{"collection":"Classics","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/cla/priap/prp84.htm","path":"cla/priap/prp84.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/cla/priap/prp84.htm","text":"Quid hoc novi est? Quid ira nuntiat deum?\n Silente nocte candidus mihi puer\n tepente cum iaceret abditus sinu,\n venus fuit quieta, nec viriliter\n iners senile penis extulit caput.\n Placet, Priape, qui sub arboris coma\n soles, sacrum revincte pampino caput,\n ruber sedere cum rubente fascino?\n At, o Triphalle, saepe floribus novis\n tuas sine arte deligavimus comas,\n abegimusque voce saepe, cum tibi\n senexve corvus impigerve graculus\n sacrum feriret ore corneo caput.\n Vale nefande destitutor inguinum,\n vale Priape: debeo tibi nihil.\n Iacebis inter arva pallidus situ,\n canisque saeva susque ligneo tibi\n lutosus affricabit oblitum latus.\n At o sceleste penis, o meum malum,\n gravi piaque lege noxiam lues.\n Licet querare, nec tibi tener puer\n patebit ullus, imminente qui toro\n iuvante verset arte mobilem natem,\n puella nec iocosa te levi manu\n fovebit apprimetve lucidum femur.\n Bidens amica Romluli senis memor\n paratur, inter atra cuius inguina\n latet iacente pantice abditus specus,\n vagaque pelle tectus annuo gelu\n araneosus obsidet forem situs.\n Tibi haec paratur, ut tuum ter aut quater\n voret profunda fossa lubricum caput.\n Licebit aeger angue lentior cubes,\n tereris usque, donec (a miser! miser!)\n triplexque quadruplexque compleas specum.\n Superbia ista proderit nihil, simul\n vagum sonante merseris caput luto.\n Quid est, iners? Pigetne lentitudinis?\n Licebit hoc inultus auferas semel,\n sed ille cum redibit aureus puer,\n simul sonante senseris iter pede,\n rigente nervos excubet libidine,\n et inquietus inguina arrigat tumor,\n neque incitare cesset usque dum mihi\n venus iocosa molle ruperit latus.\nWhat news be here? what send those angry gods?\n Whenas in silent night that snow-hued boy\n To my warm bosom clasp\u00e8d lay concealed,\n Venus was dormant nor in manly guise\n My sluggard prickle raised his senile head.\n Art pleased (Priapus!) under leafy tree\n Wont with vine-tendrils sacred sconce to wreathe\n And seat thee ruddy with thy ruddled yard?\n But, O Triphallus, oft with freshest flowers\n Artlessly garlanded thy brow we crowned\n And with loud shouting often drove from thee\n What ag\u00e8d Raven or what agile 'Daw\n Would peck thy holy face with horny beak.\n Farewell, Priapus! naught to thee owe I\n Farewell, forsaker damn'd of private parts!\n Pale with neglect amid the fields shalt he\n Where savage bandog shall bepiss thee or\n Wild boar shall rub thee with his ribs mud-caked.\n Accurs\u00e8d Penis! Oh, by whom my pains\n Shall with sore righteous penalty be paid?\n Howe'er thou 'plain, no more shall tender boy\n Ope to thy bidding, nor on groaning bed\n His mobile buttocks writhe with aiding art:\n Nor shall the wanton damsel's legier hand\n Stroke thee, or rub on thee her lubric thigh.\n A two-fanged mistress, Romulus old remembering,\n Awaits thee; middlemost whose sable groin\n And hide time-loosened thou with coynte-rime bewrayed\n And hung in cobwebs fain shalt block the way.\n Such prize is thine who thrice and four times shalt\n Engulf thy lecherous head in fosse profound.\n Though sick or languid lie thou, still thou must\n Rasp her till wretched, wretched thou shalt fill\n Thrice or e'en fourfold times her cavernous gape;\n And naught this haughty sprite shall 'vail thee when\n Plunging thine errant head in plashing mire.\n Why lies it lazy? Doth its sloth displease thee?\n For once thou mayest weaken it unavenged;\n But when that golden boy again shall come,\n Soon as his patter on the path shalt hear,\n Grant that a restless swelling rouse my nerve\n Lustful a-sudden and upraise it high,\n Nor cease excite it and excite it more\n Till wanton Venus burst my weakened side.\nWhat news is this? What does the anger of the gods announce? When in the silent night a lovely boy lay with me hidden in my warm bosom, my desire was quiescent, nor did the sluggish penis courageously raise its senile head. Does it please thee, Priapus? who under the foliage of a tree art wont, thy sacred head circled with the leaves and tendrils of the vine, ruddy to sit with rubicund fascinum. But, O Triphallus, oft fresh flowers with loving care have I wreathed in thy locks; and oft driven off with my shouts an aged raven or an active jackdaw when it would have pecked thy sacred head with its horny bill. Fare thee well, Priapus, I owe thee naught. Farewell, impious forsaker of the privities, thou shalt he in the glebe mouldy with neglect; a savage dog shall continually piss upon thee, or a wild boar rub against thee his side befouled with mire. O cursed father of the penis, to whom my calamity [is due], thou shalt expiate this injury with a severe and pious atonement. Thou canst complain: no tender lad shall yield to thee who on the groaning bed with aiding art shall writhe his mobile buttocks. Nor shall a sportive girl caress thee with her gentle hand, or press against thee her lubricious thigh. A mistress with two teeth is prepared for thee, who can call to mind the time of Romulus; and amid her gloomy loins and loose-stretched hide, covered with frost and full of mould and cobwebs, thy privity shall blockade the entrance. This is the one prepared for thee, that thrice and four times her bottomless ditch may swallow up thy lubricious head. Notwithstanding weak and languid thou liest, thou shalt shag her again and again until, O miserable wretch, thrice and fourfold thou fillest her cavity. And now thy pride shall avail thee naught when thou plungest thy reeling head into the splashing mire. Why is [my yard] inert? doth not its sluggishness displease thee? This once thou mayst deprive it of vigour with impunity. But when that golden boy shall return, at the same time that thou hearest the patter of his foot upon the path, on a sudden let a restless swelling excite my nerves with lust and raise my privy part; nor let it cease to incite more and more until sportive Venus shall have spent my feeble strength.","title":"84. What news be here? what send those angry gods?","type":"page"}