Epitaph for Slave Girl Erotion [Epigrams, Book V, XXXIV] by Éamon Mag Uidhir

Éamon Mag Uidhir studied at Trinity College Dublin where he edited the literary magazine Icarus, back in the day. After a career in journalism, Eamon returned to his literary roots and has been writing novels, short stories and poems in a veritable frenzy of literary endeavour. He also edits Flare Dublin’s only narrowsheet, and helps curate The Sunflower Sessions held every last Wednesday of the month in The Lord Edward opposite Christchurch Cathedral, Dublin.

Epitaph for Slave Girl Erotion [Epigrams, Book V, XXXIV]

Hanc tibi, Fronto pater, genetrix Flaccilla, puellam Oscula commendo deliciasque meas, Parvola ne nigras horrescat Erotion umbras Oraque Tartarei prodigiosa canis. Inpletura fuit sextae modo frigora brumae, Vixisset totidem ni minus illa dies. Inter tam veteres ludat lasciva patronos Et nomen blaeso garriat ore meum. Mollia non rigidus caespes tegat ossa, nec illi, Terra, gravis fueris: non fuit illa tibi.

To you my father and mother, Frontor and Flaccilla,

I entrust little Erotion, my joy and my delight, So that the dark shadows and the monstrous mouth Of Cerberus won’t frighten her. She would have survived a sixth cold winter,

Had she lived but six days more. Between such venerable protectors may she sport

And play, and babble my name in her little lisp. Let no rough turf lie on her tender bones. And do not press heavily on her, earth. She pressed but lightly on you.

A Visit from Doctor Symmachus and His Hundred Students [Epigrams, Book V, IX]

Languebam : sed tu comitatus protinus ad me venisti centum, Symmache, discipulis. centum me tetigere manus Aquilone gelatae : non habui febrem, Symmache, nunc habeo.

I was poorly, Doctor Symmachus. Then you scurried round to me with your hundred students. A hundred hands chilled by the North Wind pawed me. Though I hadn’t had fever, Symmachus, I do now.

©Éamon Mag Uidhir