Mausoleum of the Flavii 2nd C. CE

June 28, 2020

Mausoleum of the Flavii 2nd C. CE

This three-story funerary monument is inscribed with a 110 line poem dedicated to the 110 year life of the elder Titus Secundus by his son (the younger Titus Secundus):

Although the time of short life is fleeting

And the brief hour of snatched days quickly goes by

And she submerges mortal bodies in the Elysian fields,

Lachesis is gravely aware of the thread that is continually broken.

In spite of these things a memorial of flattering craft was discovered

Through which men, who had already emerged into greater ages,

A longer-lasting memory could greet

And with itself more resiliently preserve many things through inscriptions in the face of years otherwise about to devour them.

See, the recent filial dedication, about to meet with complete approval,

Deserves a vast amount of fame accompanied by praise,

Pregnant with an extraordinary precedent,

Which Flavius Secundus, acting in accordance with ancestral custom, has marked with an illustrious honor.

Who would not approve of the noble virtues of his mind?

Who would not marvel at this work and from seeing the riches that were spent

Stand too awestruck to comprehend such wealth for himself

The very wealth by means of which the monument rises through the ethereal breezes?

The effectiveness of this fortune must be praised more graciously,

In such a way, for himself, do his expenditures create a fixed and permanent abode,

In such a way does money know how to preserve customs - immortal -

So long as its expenditure is prudent and transfixed on its eternal use.

Let that furious desire beware, which is driven by excessive gold,

Which the radiance of silver, bought by blood, drags along as a captive

And let that deluded desire for extravagance which has been squandered on fleeting passions beware,

Extravagance which has learned to seek foreign garments and gems, seductive in their luster,

Or gifts coming from the Aeruthrean water,

Such extravagance foreigners with their diverse competition of goods have exploited,

Greece with her boys, Hispania with the skill of Pallas,

The land of Libya with its animals for hunting, the Orient with its spice,

Egypt with her dainty Pharians,

Gaul always proud of its accomplished works of art, Campania rich in wine.

These things quickly fade and maintain but a brief show of affection,

Condemned by their own fleeting nature,

But if anyone were to reflect on all the disasters of life and strive

To measure each man by his own brief span, then he would learn to believe

That nothing is better

Except what is able to endure the resilience of aging in harmony with the blessing of the Gods.

Now I should not doubt,

If the senses remain after death,

That often, Secundus, your father rejoices amidst the mute shades of Acheron

And that often he spurns the rest of the squadrons of shades

Because he knows that the great face of his tomb survives him with its eternal innovation,

That the shining congruity of slabs endure in such a way

That the stairs have grown more splendid, raised from their foundation in such a way

That even every angle has been fashioned in such a way, as if it were formed from a thread of softened wax.

Light sculpture, with its mobile design, marks an innovation.

And – it is fitting – that the wandering crowd gives their approval to these adornments

And is equally amazed by the shining columns that are suspended overhead.

What about when you gave to the spirits of the dead the inscription of your father’s military career

And your father himself, who often sees these delights

Which he himself once gave to the region,

During the time when he produces the many gifts of Bacchus and desires to lay out the first vines

And provides the grove with rather frequently rerouted streams.

May the fates and Stygian ruler of dread night allow me to say:

Now, behold, in such a way your father ought to be considered immortal

And to have fled from the gloomy house of abandoned Dis,

While for the rest of time

He prefers to attend these monuments and to live for eternity

Amidst inscribed honors, to remain in the familiar groves,

Continuously to look fondly from here upon the buildings of his native heights

And to always keep the Penates which he gave to his children near.

Perhaps many, speaking in a manner of baseless gossip,

Might say that these things are the forebodings of a more swiftly coming death

If anyone puts up a monument for future generations while he still lives.

Such sentiments do not exist in my heart,

But, I believe that they are free from cares

Those who have resolved to prepare a lasting abode

And with the determined rigor of life to set up walls that will never fall.

Life’s course has been determined by the Fates and Atropos does not change her mind in the midst of her spinning;

As soon as she begins to draw out the first thread

Believe me, Secundus, so you will so you will have reached your allotted years.

But not only will you be free from care, but also rich throughout your whole spirit,

So long as you are able to be burdensome to no man and you make wills that are not filled with obligation,

When your heir does not fear that he must build a monument such as this.

Whatever you leave behind even now - all of it will arrive, in whatever way your desire desires to go about it.

But concern for the work and its lofty beauty calls me back. Its glory stands uplifted and strikes the neighboring clouds

And measures the course of the sun.

If, by chance, the eyes should desire to survey the hills, their peaks are dominated each in turn.

If you should glimpse the plains, the ground lies obstructed, hidden below.

Not in such a way is the Colossos said to rise up into the Romulean hills,

Nor the obelisks of the circus into the middle of the airs,

Nor in such a way do the channels of the sistrum-bearing Nile reveal themselves

When Pharos exposes her waters with her discerning flames.

What does piety not accomplish, once it has been taught by experience?

Behold the stone perforated with many windows as it coaxingly invites bees to hasten inside

And to construct their wax colored home within,

So that this abode, sweetened by Thymbraean nectar

Might exude the juices of sweet-smelling flowers while they produce fresh honey.

For the purpose of praising, here again, Pietas, reinvigorate my spirits, which have paid their homage.

And in keeping with the custom you know so well, show favor to my songs.

See here again is Secundus, who with a virtuous heart

Gave to his father not just a monument, but a new type of shrine.

Now for what reason, Calliope, do you compel me to go back down roads,

Along an identical path, which I have already traversed?

Truly, a description of the great work was accomplished by us,

Indeed we mentioned the polished rocks fitted snuggly in their places,

The surrounding groves, the waters flowing pleasantly

And the bees frequently bringing back their honey.

This thing nevertheless, only this one thing, I think, escaped our craft,

Since you yield to many trifles, intoxicated Muse,

On top we did not mention the fluttering wings of the cock,

Which, I think, flies higher than the highest cloud.

If nature had given a voice to its body,

This cock would compel all the Gods to rise in the morning.

And now the entrance is inscribed with the appropriate words,

And a life is clearly seen that can be confident in the record of its achievement I hope that you, Secundus, can live out many years in happiness

And that you may peruse the monument which you have erected.