Escaping from great Rome, I'm welcomed in
Ariccia at a reasonable inn;
I've got for company our most learned Greek,
Heliodorus, who taught our friends to speak.

Next, Forum Appii, full of canalboat-men
And bloody-minded tavern-keepers. Then,
We lazily split a stretch, that fitter folks
Belt through in one: Appia's less hard for us slow-pokes.
Here I declare war on my belly because
Of the water (vile), in no philosopher's
Temper at waiting while the others dine.

Now night leads in her shady battle-line
Across the earth, and spreads her emblems in the sky;
Now slaves insult the boatmen, who reply
With insults to the slaves. "Put in here, steady
As you go."  "You've crammed three hundred in already."
"Enough! or Too much."  A whole hour goes past
While fares are settled and the mule's made fast.
Vicious gnats and frogs in the marsh turn sleep
Away; a bargee soused in wine so cheap
It's nearly vinegar sings the girl he left
Behind; a traveller sings right back his own girl's left
Behind, then sleeps at last; and giving the mule scope
To browse, the sluggish bargee ties its rope
To a boulder, and lies back, and snores.

It's day
Before we feel the wherry has no way
On her: a headstrong chap jumps out and flails
Away at the mule's and bargee's heads and tails
With a club of willow. But it's ten by the time we land.
Feronia, we make free with either hand
Washing our faces in your stream; then, full
Of breakfast, crawl three miles and the slow pull
Up into Anxur on its gleaming Volscian rock.

Here good Maecenas was to come, and Coc-
ceius, ambassadors on great affairs, two men
Well-versed in making friends agree again.
Here I've just rubbed collyrium on my
Sore eyes when, catching me black-handed, Mae-
cenas arrives, Cocceius too, with him
Fonteius Capito as neat and trim
As man could be, Mark Antony's best friend.

Fondi: we're amused by the town-clerk, round the bend
About his togs, the senatorial strip
He's sporting this year ("in the praetorship
Of Aufidius Luscus"), and his chafing-pan
For incense, but we're glad to leave the man.
Tired out, we stay in the Mamurras' town - I mean
Formiae - Murena's house, with Capito's cuisine.

The following morning is the one we greet
With most delight: Plotius and Varius meet
Our carriage at Sinuessa, and Virgil's here.
Good souls! Earth has borne none more pure and clear,
Nor one attached to them as I am.  What
Embraces, jokes and joy we gave and got!
For me there's nothing like a pleasant friend
(So long as I'm well).

                      The small house at the end
Of Latium, next to the Campanian Bridge,
Gave us a roof, and special-privilege
Firewood and salt from government suppliers.

The mules outspan at Capua early. Gaius
Maecenas naturally goes to exercise,
Virgil and I to sleep - they don't advise
Ball-games for weak-eyed, or dyspeptic, players.

Next we've the hospitality of Cocceius'
Villa, full of good things, up on the slope
Above the Caudine inns. Now Muse, I hope
You're not averse to measuring me a short
Tale, of how Messius and The Jester fought,
Who were their fathers, sprung from what great stock
They made their charges.

                        Messius (The Cock)
Is of the Oscan breed; Sarmentus' kin's
His lady owner: from such origins
They come to combat. First Sarmentus: "Horse!
You're like a wild horse!"  Since we laugh, of course
Messius grants a hit, tossing his mane.
"Hey! - if you had your cropped horn back again,
What wouldn't you do!  You're pretty threatening, polled!" -
Meaning, his forehead's spoiled by a foul old
Scar on the left, in the bristles. Building on these
Jibes at his shape and his Campanian disease,
The Jester begs him: "Do the Cyclops dance -
You don't need horror-mask and boots - Just prance!"
The Cock crows back.  "You offered up your shackles
Yet, as you vowed, to the household gods? - whose gods?", he cackles.
"Being a clerk is no escape: you're still
Bound to the service of your lady's will.
In fact, why did you ever run away? -
You slender little weed! - One pound of bread a day
Would keep you ticking over fine."   So we
Drew out the dinner very pleasantly.

Then, straight to Benevento, where mine host
So busily turns thin fieldfares as they toast
At the fire, he nearly sets his place on fire.
For sparks fall out; and lapping higher and higher
Round the old kitchen, tongues of flame start tasting
The ceiling. What a sight! Guests tired of fasting,
And frightened servants, snatched the meal outside -
Then we all put the fire out - or all tried.

From there, Apulia starts, and shows the looks
Of hills well-known to me: Atabulus cooks
Them hot and crusty - we'd never have crawled through
If not for a villa near Trivicum to
Get shelter in, and smoke that made us cry
(The stove burnt boughs with leaves on, and not dry).

Here like a fool for a lying girl I stay
Up, right till midnight - till I drift away
Aroused for Venus in my sleep, and dreams
Dapple my nightshirt with disgraceful creams,
My belly too, since I was on my back.

From here our carriages whirl us down the track
Twenty-four miles, to stay in a small town
Which can't be named in verse. But it's pinned down
Simply enough in images: they sell dear
The cheapest thing on earth - that's water - here.
It's vile, too; but the bread's the loveliest
For miles: the canny traveller east or west
Takes on a packful.
                    For at Canosa bread is gritty,
They're no more well-to do for water - the city
Was sited by tough Diomed, they say.
Here Varius' friends weep as he sadly leaves the way.

From there we arrive at Ruvo, tired by hours
On the long road, made rougher still by showers.

The weather next day's better, the road worse
Right to the walls of fishy Bari.
Then there's
Another place whose water-nymphs were annoyed
When it was built: Egnazia. We enjoyed
The joke that incense at their temple door
Melts without fire.  Such laughs, as they assure
Us of their myth!  That miracle-writing Jew
Apella can swallow it; I'm not going to.
For I was taught the gods live a retired
Life without care: though nature is inspired
With wonders now and then, the gods don't go
Dropping us things from their high portico -
They don't have fits of sullenness or rage.

Brindisi makes the end of my long journey, and my page.

TAKEN SHORT

O dung-producers, keep on going -
go to the city-wall.
If you're caught here,
you'll have to bear
the punishment.
Beware.

[Anonymous inscription,
painted on a wall in Pompeii (in district V, in the building next
to the most northerly one)
(CIL IV 7038)]

A LOVER'S THREAT

Crescens! - If any rival fucks my woman friend
   I pray a bear will bite him in the end.
I mean, I hope the taste of her little fountains
   Gives him a taste for walking in the mountains
And as he daydreams of her pulls and pushes
   A bear bites off his prick and eats him in the bushes.
Or he goes to the Circus, sits in front, and falls
   Onto the sand, and the bear bites off his balls.

[Anonymous inscription found in Rome
on the Palatine, on the south side of the Slope of Victory,
on the fifth arch as you come from the Velabrum.
(CIL IV.1645)]

PART I: Ingredients, sources, taste, morality,
 gifts and mythology
Ovid, Dispatches from the Black Sea, I, viii, 41-62
 O for an allotment
Martial, Epigrams, III, 47
 Coals to Newcastle
Ennius, Hedyphagetica
 Nice food
Ovid, Metamorphoses, XV, 72-142
 Pythagoras on meat
Seneca, Thyestes, 970-1006
 Forbidden food
Catullus, Poem 59
 Disgusting food
Anonymous, Pompeii, Corpus Inscript. Latinarum, IV.6635
 Micon and Pero
Juvenal, Satire IV
 Big Fish
Lucretius, De Rerum Natura, IV, 617-672
 The physics of taste
Ovid, Metamorphoses, XV, 453-78
 Souls
Seneca, Thyestes, 442-470
 Poor but honest food
Petronius, Satyricon, 55
 Luxury
Ovid, Metamorphoses, XV, 158-175
 Metempsychosis and food
Martial, Epigrams, VIII, 23
 To a friend from the country
Martial, Epigrams, VII, 91
 To Juvenal at Saturnalia time
Martial, Epigrams, XII, 65
 A present for Phyllis
Ovid, Metamorphoses, XI, 89-145
 The golden touch
Virgil, Aeneid, VII, 107-134
 The first Roman meal
Lucan, Civil War, IX, 587-618
 The need for water
Horace, Satires, I, 5
 A journey to Brindisi
Anonymous, Pompeii, Corpus Inscrip. Latinarum, IV.7038
 Taken short
Anonymous, Rome, Corpus Inscrip. Latinarum, IV.1645
 A lover’s threat

PART II: Meals - invitations, occasions, manners,
 courses and aims
Catullus, Poem 13
 An invitation
Martial, Epigrams, I, 27
 A sort of invitation
Martial, Epigrams, XII, 82
 Cadging an invite
Phaedrus, Fabulae, I, 13
 Catching a meal
Horace, Odes, II, vii
 Excuse for a party
Juvenal, Satire VI, 418-33
 The empty stomach problem
Martial, Epigrams, V, 78
 Dinner with a poor poet
Ovid, Ars amatoria, III, 755-68
 Table manners for girls
Catullus, Poem 12
 Napkins
Martial, Epigrams, III, 50
 A literary host
Martial, Epigrams, V, 79
 Top dresser
Ovid, Ars amatoria, I, 565-578
 Wine at table
Martial, Epigrams, I, 71
 Toasts
Virgil, Aeneid, III, 210-249
 The Harpies spoil a picnic
Martial, Epigrams, X, 
 The dream place in the country
Horace, Odes, II, xiv
 Drink it now
Anonymous, Rome, Corpus Inscrip. Latinarum, VI.18131
 Eating and drinking

PART III: Making the day’s food
Anonymous, Moretum
 Moretum
Ovid, Tristia, IV, x
 The birthday cake