XVIII

I cannot think I'd have gone with Julius Caesar to Britain;

To the Popina right here, Florus would tug me with ease.

Fogs of the dreary north remain a more baleful remembrance

Than in the kitchens of Rome tribes of assiduous fleas.

After today, I'll remember you even more kindly, tavernas,

You osterias, as you are called, aptly by those here in Rome.

That was the place I encountered my mistress today with the uncle

Whom she so often deceives, so that she can have me.

Here's where I sat at a table surrounded by good-natured Germans;

Over on that side the girl, finding a seat for herself

Next to her mother where, frequently shifting her bench, she arranged

Nicely for me to perceive profile and curve of her neck;

Speaks just a little more loudly than women in Rome are accustomed;

Significant glance as she pours--misses the glass with the wine