Copa (also called the Female Tavern Keeper) is a minor work commonly attributed to the poet Vergil, though it is not mentioned in his list of works by the historian Donatus; it is however mentioned by the biographer Servius. Modern scholars attribute it as not from Vergil, and likely from a contemporary imitator. It is dated roughly to the early 1st Century AD.
The poem is famous for its carpe diem like last line: " Death, pulling on your ear, says “I am coming, so live today."
The Syrian Hostess,
Her head wrapped by Greek headband,
Skilled at moving her hips to the sound of the clappers,
Is dancing drunkenly and sexily in her smoke filled tavern,
And tapping hoarse reeds against her elbows,
“What help would it have been to have gone away in the summer dust;
How much better is it to drink and lie on my couch!
Here there are murals, and screens, handled cups, roses,
flutes, lyres, and a shady pavilion cooled by reeds.
And listen! Below the cave,
A pan-like country girl sweetly plays the pipes in the manner of a shepherd.
There is newly poured flat wine from a pitch sealed jar,
And there is a small stream of rustling water that murmurs by.
Also, there’s garlands of violets from a saffron colored flower,
And purple and yellow garlands, mixed with roses,
And lilies, which Achelois (a nymph), has gathered from a pure river,
And brought in wicker baskets.
And also, there are small cheeses which dry in small baskets made of rush,
Waxed plums from the days of autumn, and nuts from a chestnut tree, red apples as well,
And here there is graceful Ceres, there is Amor, there is Bacchus the roaring one,
Also there are blood red mulberries and bunches of grapes,
And hanging from a reed are greenish-blue cucumbers.
And the hut has a guard with a willow scythe, he has a large penis but he is not terrible.
Come here, tavern lover! Your tired little donkey is sweating, spare it, for Vesta is fond of them.
Now cicadas, with frequent singing, overrun the trees,
Now lizards hide in varied cool resting places.
Now If you are wise, lying back, refresh yourself with a summer glass,
Or if you wish, bring out cups of crystal.
Come here! Tired man, rest below the shade of the vine,
And bind your heavy head with a rosy wreath,
plucking the beautiful face of a tender girl,
May he perish who has ancient arrogance!
Why do you preserve the sweet smelling wreaths of ungrateful ashes?
Can it be that you want your bones covered by a crowned stone?
Grab the unmixed wine and the bone dice;
Let him perish who cares about tomorrow!
Death, pulling on your ear, says
“I am coming, so live today.""
Notes On Text
...murals... - from Greek τόπια (tópia), literally meaning garden/landscape murals
...pan-like... - Latin "Maenalio," meaning from Maenalio/Arcadia, where, according to some myths, the god Pan is from. It could also be translated as “rustic” or more literally “Arcadian.”
...Bacchus the Roaring One... - In the Latin text, only the word Bromius is used, which is an epithet of Bacchus
...but he is not terrible. - In Roman culture, larger genitalia were seen as barbaric/foreign; it could be argued that the hostess is saying that he is not a foreigner. It could also be argued that the man isn't real and, in fact, is describing a statue.