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BROADWAY 
 TRANSLATIONS 
 
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 MARTIAL 
 
 Pots TWELVE BOOKS OF 
 
 EPIGRAMS 
 
 Translated by 
 fara PO TL Vi At 
 
 and 
 
 F. A. WRIGHT, M.A. 
 
 CLASSICAL DEPARTMENT, BIRKBECK COLLEGE 
 
 With an Introduction by the latter 
 
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Pa) yal hl ove Oa wh 
 
 AT the time of his lamented death in 1920, John Arthur 
 Pott was engaged on a complete translation, in verse 
 and prose, of the Epigrams of Martial. The manuscript, 
 about half completed, was left to his friend, Mr W. R. 
 Smale of Radley College, and he, after reading it through, 
 and in part revising it, has decided that, for the moment, 
 the publication of the verse renderings only is advisable. 
 
 In memory of an accomplished poet and scholar I 
 have endeavoured to finish his work to the best of my 
 ability, and have added a short Introduction, my own 
 versions being marked with an asterisk. 
 
 FP. A. W. 
 
 ex iii 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PREFACE : iii 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 I Life of Martial . : : : , Vv 
 
 II The Epigrams . : : ‘ >. ea 
 
 III Martial as Poet : : : é é xll 
 THE EPIGRAMS 
 
 BOOK ss leas : : : é ; oe 
 
 ia ae Bene : ‘ ; ; ; ‘ 43 
 
 sae ed BE A ; : : ; . : 75 
 
 a Vs ee 3 : : ; A mph tis 
 
 - \ Ae A : ; : : . ‘ 137 
 
 ne vt 167 
 
 spel SiS ‘ 197 
 
 aa ee 231 
 
 Fie be 261 
 
 » XX 299 
 
 » Al 337 
 
 eee 371 
 
 iV 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 I 
 LIFE OF MARTIAL 
 
 Marcus VALERIUS MARTIALIS was born about the year 
 A.D. 40, during the short reign of the Emperor Caius, in 
 the Spanish town of Bilbilis. The name by which he 
 is now commonly known was probably due to the accident 
 of his birth occurring on the first of March: ‘ Marcus 
 Valerius’ forms part of the Roman dress which his 
 countrymen soon after the time of Julius Caesar had so 
 readily adopted. In the first century of our era Spain 
 passed through one of those periods of intellectual 
 activity which diversify the torpor wherein that strange 
 land normally reposes, and Martial is but one of the group 
 of brilliant Spaniards who are among the chief glories of 
 the silver age of Latin literature. Two of the galaxy, 
 the critic Quintilian, born at Calagurris A.D. 40, and the 
 poet Lucan, born at Cordova A.D. 39, were his close con- 
 temporaries, and when, abandoning Bilbilis and the 
 rushing Salo, he came to Italy to seek his fortune in 63, 
 Seneca had reached the highest point of his long and 
 magnificent career and seemed all-powerful at Rome. 
 As a humble dependent of the Senecas, and through them 
 of the Pisos, the most literary of all the great Roman 
 families, Martial made his first entry into Roman life; 
 and when in 65 B.c. on the discovery of the conspiracy 
 Seneca and Piso were involved in a common ruin, the 
 young stranger from Spain shared their downfall in his 
 small degree, and was thrown upon his own resources. 
 For many years existence for him must have been as 
 hard a struggle as it was for Charles Dickens in his youth, 
 and both writers owe much of their power to the forced 
 realization of the most important fact in life, that a man 
 must in some way or another get enough to eat. Being 
 a Roman citizen Martial had a certain value as a client— 
 if he could find a patron willing to employ him—but a 
 Vv 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 client’s pay, whether it took the form of rations or dole, 
 was almost as scanty and precarious as that which a 
 sandwich-man or a ‘super’ earns to-day. Moreover, 
 competition in that particular branch of social service 
 was excessively severe, for anyone then could be a client 
 just as anyone now can be a clerk: there were only 
 three requisites, a respectable appearance, a decent suit 
 of clothes, and a dislike for hard manual labour. Prob- 
 ably it was his pen that saved Martial from starvation, 
 and the couplets that now appear as Books Thirteen and 
 Fourteen of the Epigrams, tags written to order, like our 
 cracker mottoes, for the presents that were usually given 
 at the Saturnalia, performed at least one useful function ; 
 they kept our poet alive. Moreover they gained for him 
 some sort of reputation, and when the Colosseum was 
 opened by the Emperor Titus in the year A.D. 80 a 
 publisher was found ready to risk his first small book 
 “Liber Spectaculorum’, a set of thirty-two short poems 
 describing the games, the contests, and all the other 
 wonders of the great building. 
 
 “The Spectacles’ mark the turning-point in Martial’s 
 fortunes. Though they are of small literary value they 
 had a considerable success, and, attracting imperial notice, 
 brought to Martial such privileges as accompanied the 
 grant of ‘ father’s right’, 7s trium liberorum. His social 
 position was now assured and his poetical fame also 
 quickly increased, so that he was able in A.D. 84 to 
 publish and sell the collection of his gift verses which we 
 now possess. By the beginning of 86 he was ready for 
 a more ambitious flight and published the first two 
 books of the Epigrams, mostly composed of poems 
 referring to the reigns of Vespasian and Titus. After 
 this date he must have been in fairly easy circumstances, 
 for he was raised to equestrian rank, acquired a house on 
 the Quirinal, and a small estate at Nomentum, had many 
 rich friends, and always remained a bachelor. But old 
 habit was strong and he is never tired of enlarging on his 
 poverty and the discomforts of life at Rome. On one 
 occasion, at least, he retired for a time to Forum Corneli 
 in Gaul, and there published the third book of the 
 Epigrams in A.D. 87. He soon, however, returned to the 
 capital again and brought out Books IV, V and VI, in 
 the next three successive years. Book VII announces 
 the coming return of Domitian from his Sarmatian 
 campaigns, and must therefore have appeared about the 
 
 vi 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 end of 92, while the next three books came out at yearly 
 intervals. The death of Domitian decided Martial to 
 leave Rome for good, and after sending the Emperor 
 Nerva a selection from Books X and XI he finally returned 
 to Bilbilis in 98. A Spanish lady, Marcella, gave him an 
 estate, and there he ended his days, his last volume, 
 Book XII, being mostly written in Spain, and published 
 late in A.D. 101. The date of his death can be approxi- 
 mately fixed by.a letter of Pliny the younger, written 
 104, which is so characteristic of that very superior 
 person that it is worth quoting in full: 
 
 “I was very grieved,” Pliny writes to his friend, 
 Cornelius Priscus, “‘ to hear of Martial’s death. He was 
 a talented fellow, of shrewd and vigorous understanding, 
 his writings well seasoned with wit and sarcasm, and yet 
 good-humoured withal, I did him the compliment of 
 providing his travelling money when he left Rome: 
 that I owed both to our friendship and to some trifles of 
 verse which he wrote about me. It was an ancient 
 custom to honour and reward those writers who sang the 
 praises of individuals or states; but in our times this, 
 like many other excellent habits, has gone completely 
 out of use. Since we have ceased to do praiseworthy 
 deeds, we think that praise itself is silly. You ask what 
 are the verses for which I thus repaid him. I would 
 refer you to his book, but as a matter of fact I remember 
 some of them: if you like these, you may look up the 
 others later. He is addressing his Muse and tells her to 
 seek my house on the Esquiline, and to knock respectfully. 
 
 ‘But do not with strong liquor flown 
 Knock at a time that’s not your own. 
 His days to study he must give 
 Composing speeches, that shall live 
 With Tully’s best, to please the ears 
 And win a verdict from the Peers. 
 
 More safe ’twill be to go a-calling 
 
 If lamps are lit and night is falling. 
 
 That is your hour, when reigns the rose, 
 When brows are wet, and Bacchus flows ; 
 For when the Wine God wildly rages 
 Stern Catos well may read my pages.’ 
 
 “As he wrote thus about me was I not right then 
 to speed him on his way, and am I not right now to mourn 
 for a true friend’s death? He gave me what he could ; 
 he would have given more if he had been able. And yet 
 
 vii 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 what greater gift can a man receive than glory and praise 
 and eternity of fame? You maysay that Martial’s verses 
 will not gain eternity: perhaps they will not; but he 
 wrote them with the supposition that they would.” 
 
 II 
 THE EPIGRAMS 
 
 THE chief value of Martial’s Epigrams, disregarding for 
 the moment their literary excellence, lies in the picture 
 they give us of Roman society towards the end of the 
 first century A.D., that period in the world’s history 
 which, beyond all others, bears the closest resemblance 
 to our own times. It is a picture drawn by a realist, and 
 in its mingling of light and shade far more convincing 
 than the lurid colours and unrelieved blackness with 
 which Juvenal and Tacitus present us. Martial is a 
 Sancho Panza who sees things as they are: the satirist 
 and the historian have more likeness to the mad knight, 
 and fired by their righteous indignation tilt as blindly 
 against the established order of the Empire as Don 
 Quixote did against his giant windmills. Their moral 
 earnestness is certainly impressive, and as characters they 
 are doubtless more deserving of our esteem than is the 
 easy-going and pleasure-loving epigrammatist ; but if we 
 wish to gain a true idea of Rome and Roman life, about 
 the year A.D. go, it is to the pages of Martial, rather than 
 to Juvenal or Tacitus, that we should turn. Martial has 
 three great advantages over the other two writers: he 
 is good-tempered, while they are soured and disappointed 
 men: he is a Spaniard, to whom the Empire has brought 
 nothing but benefits, while they are Romans who can 
 never forget the time when the world was ruled in the 
 interests of Rome: he is one of the middle class, the 
 great discovery of the new system, while they belong to 
 the official hierarchy which had for centuries enjoyed the 
 doubtful privilege of government. 
 
 And so, writing from the outside without temper and 
 without bias, Martial 1s able to give us a complete 
 panorama of Roman society from top to bottom. At 
 the very summit comes His Most Gracious Majesty, the 
 Emperor Domitian, ‘ dominus et deus’, as he insisted on 
 being called by the reluctant senate, whose shadowy 
 
 Vili 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 powers he refused to recognize. ‘His most gracious 
 majesty —the words make an appropriate inscription 
 for the portrait of Domitian that Martial gives us) We 
 see, not at all a cruel and detestable tyrant, ‘ calvus 
 Nero’, but rather a patriotic, popular, and—strangely 
 enough—a rather Puritanical prince, whose benevolent 
 activities at Rome run on much the same lines as those 
 followed to-day by the London County Council. He 
 curbs the enterprise of the pushing tradesmen who 
 encroach upon the highway with their stalls; he settles 
 scales of fees, and regulates theatre accommodation ; 
 he offers handsome prizes at the literary and musical 
 competitions which take place in his Alban villa’; he 
 employs a young and deserving architect to build for him 
 a palace which shall be worthy of the world’s capital 
 city; he keeps a strict watch over the morals of the 
 community, passes laws to protect young children from 
 vicious degradation, endeavours to preserve the sanctity 
 of marriage and family life, and discourages all licen- 
 tiousness in literature, being himself so strict in his 
 regard for propriety that our poet has to be far more 
 careful than is his wont when he is writing for the 
 imperial ear. These are some of the impressions of 
 Domitian’s character that we get from a perusal of the 
 Epigrams, and although Martial is commonly accused of 
 shameless flattery and sycophantic adulation, it is well, 
 for the sake of truth, that we have in him some corrective 
 to the venom of Tacitus’ pen. Domitian had his faults, 
 but for the historian his unforgivable sin was that, 
 being himself something of a realist, he refused to acquiesce 
 any longer in the legal fiction that made the senate 
 ostensibly a co-partner in empire. 
 
 Immediately below the Emperor comes the imperial 
 entourage: Crispinus, the commander of the body- 
 guard; Regulus, the great orator, Domitian’s most 
 trusted counsellor; the freedmen, Parthenius, imperial 
 chamberlain, Sextus, librarian, and Entellus, confidential 
 secretary; the architect Rabirius, the butler Euphemus, 
 the cup-bearer Earinos, and the actors Paris and Latinus. 
 On all of these, high and low alike, Martial lavishes his 
 most ingenious flattery, receiving in return such small 
 rewards as the gift of a toga from Parthenius, described 
 with a wealth of hyperbole in Book VIII, xxviii. 
 
 Next we have the leading lights of Roman society, 
 Lx 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 political and literary, with nearly all of whom in their 
 capacity of patrons Martial seems to have been acquainted, 
 the word ‘ friend’ in their connection usually rhyming with 
 “send—me a present’’ or “ lend—me some money ”’. 
 Among the high officials, generals, administrators, and 
 governors of provinces are Licinius Sura, Domitius 
 Tullus, and his brother Lucanus, the Etrusci father and 
 son, Macer, Avitus, Paulus, Vestinus, and Antonius 
 Primus, the most brilliant commander of the Flavian 
 armies, whose capture of Cremona is described in Tacitus’ 
 Histories. The literary aristocrats include the younger 
 Pliny, Silius Italicus, author of the Punica, the poet 
 Stella and his wife Ianthis, the poetess Sulpicia and her 
 husband Calenus, Frontinus the great authority on 
 aqueducts, and Polla, widow of Lucan. Of contemporary 
 writers Quintilian and Juvenal receive complimentary 
 verses ; Statius alone is never mentioned. 
 
 Then follows a less distinguished gathering, men and 
 women of Martial’s own station in life, for whom he 
 shows in many poems a very real and sincere affection. 
 His dearest friend perhaps is his namesake, Julius Martialis, 
 on whose suburban villa he writes one of his most charming 
 pieces; but he has many other intimates, Quintus 
 Ovidius, his neighbour at Nomentum, the centurion 
 Pudens and his British wife Claudia, Canius Rufus of 
 Gades, husband of the learned Theophila, his fellow 
 poets, Castricus and Cerlalis, Faustinus and Flaccus, 
 his compatriots Decianus, Priscus, Licinianus, and 
 Maternus. To all of these he writes with genuine warmth, 
 and for many of them he obviously felt the same tender 
 regard as inspires the three beautiful epigrams on the 
 ‘death of the little slave girl Erotion (V, xxxiv, xxxvu, 
 X, lxi), poems which show that even if Martial was a 
 bachelor and no great respecter of women, he was a true 
 lover of children. 
 
 And then we are introduced to the more sordid side 
 of life in the capital, to an anonymous world for whom 
 Martial invents fictitious names—Zoilus, Caecilianus, 
 Postumus, Galla, Lesbia, Gellia—a world consisting 
 chiefly of needy clients and upstart parvenus, of old 
 ladies of excessive temperament and young ladies of 
 easy virtue. There is the captator, the adventurer who 
 tries by flattery and small services to win the good graces 
 of a childless millionaire, and to secure a legacy in his 
 will: the delator, a pernicious rascal who makes a trade 
 
 x 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 of spying on his neighbours and accusing them of some 
 offence against the imperial regime: the recitator, less 
 dangerous than the informer but even more annoying, 
 the amateur poet who insists on boring his friends with 
 recitals of his verses. Every aspect of Rome Martial 
 presents to.us. With him we pass through the crowded 
 streets and the long muddy stairways up the hill-sides, 
 along which the white-robed client in the early morning 
 has to trudge his way in order to be present at his patron’s 
 levée. We see the law courts beset by a crowd of litigants 
 and hear the applause and cheers that greet some brilliant 
 effort of eloquence by a great advocate. We visit the 
 baths, public and private, each with its own regular 
 clientéle, and watch the masseurs anointing and rubbing 
 down their customers, while sly thieves look for their 
 opportunity to filch some bather’s gown. We sit among 
 the audience in the theatre and smile as Leitus or 
 Oceanus, the two chief ushers, touch some upstart on 
 the shoulder and eject him from the rows of seats reserved 
 for senators and knights. We smell the odour of the 
 circus mingled of the blood of slain animals, the scent of 
 liquid saffron and cinnamon, and the press of the great 
 crowd. And finally we hear all the gossip of the town: 
 the shameful behaviour of the priests of Cybele, the un- 
 fortunate accident that befell an Etruscan at the sacrifice, 
 how one boy was killed by a falling icicle, another by a 
 snake lurking within a hollow statue, how a tame lion 
 mauled the circus attendants, how a hare escaped un- 
 harmed from the arena; and soon and soon. There is 
 hardly any incident however trivial which will not serve 
 Martial as the subject for an epigram, and he always 
 treats his theme with the lghtest wit and the most 
 dexterous skill. He is a realist, and one of the most 
 extreme of that school: he shrinks from nothing, dull, 
 coarse, and disgusting though it be; and consequently 
 many of his pieces are extremely offensive to a delicate 
 reader. But the blame for them, if blame must be 
 allotted—in this volume they are mostly left in their 
 original Latin—does not rest solely with Martial: ‘part 
 must be assigned to the realistic method, part to the 
 Roman character, and part to life itself. 
 
 X1 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 ea 
 MARTIAL AS “POEL 
 
 In the history of the Epigram Martial is indisputably the 
 greatest name. As regards bulk of poems, variety of 
 subject, general interest, and posthumous fame, he easily 
 surpasses all his Greek rivals, while among his own 
 countrymen there is no one who in this particular field 
 can be even compared with him. He is certainly indebted 
 in some degree—and handsomely acknowledges his debt— 
 to Catullus and Ovid for his style ; but if it is possible to 
 improve upon the dainty lightness of the one and the 
 glittering polish of the other, Martial accomplishes that 
 miraculous feat. He is the epigrammatist, and it is 
 largely owing to his predominance that the word 
 “epigram ’ in English bears a somewhat different meaning 
 from that which it has in Greek. Originally an inscrip- 
 tion, whether in verse or in prose, such as might be placed 
 on a tomb, a statue, or a temple offering, it came to 
 mean for the Greeks a short poem having, as Mr Mackail 
 says, ‘‘ the compression and conciseness of a real inscrip- 
 tion, highly finished, evenly balanced, simple, lucid.” 
 To this definition most of the pieces in the Greek 
 Anthology answer, but to the wit and point which form 
 the chief essentials of a modern epigram they make 
 little pretension. It is of Martial that the Oxford Dic- 
 tionary is thinking when it says: “‘ An epigram is a short 
 poem ending in a witty and ingenious turn of thought 
 to which the rest of the composition is intended to lead up.” 
 
 Martial’s reputation as satirist and wit has indeed 
 rather obscured his more definitely poetical qualities 
 In the Epigrams he confines himself practically to three 
 metres, the elegiac couplet, the hendecasyllabic, and the 
 lambic scazon; and it is interesting to notice the con- 
 nection that obviously exists between the choice of 
 metre and the writer’s thoughts. Though Martial lived 
 most of his days in Rome, he was in a very genuine sense 
 a lover of the country, of the simple life, and of his own 
 native land. When he is treating of these three subjects 
 and writing rather to please himself than his Roman 
 audience, he is apt to escape from the confined limits of 
 the epigram, and to employ the ‘ limping iambic’ as his 
 metre. The bizarre effect obtained by the unexpected 
 
 xil 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 spondee at the end of each line probably seemed to him 
 exactly suitable; for in those days of strained rhetoric 
 and formal antithesis it was an unusual novelty to have 
 simple ideas and to express them in simple language. 
 His model, of course, is the ‘ Sirmio’ of Catullus, and in 
 several pieces he, at least, equals his predecessor. There 
 is the beautiful description (III, lviii) of Faustinus’ farm, 
 and of the suburban retreat of Julius Martialis (IV, lxiv), 
 the outburst on the glories of Spain (IV, lv), and the 
 ecstatic picture of the seaside at Formiae (X, xxx) ; best 
 known of all perhaps the poem on the death of little 
 Erotion (V, xxxvii), with whom compared, ‘inamabilis 
 sciurus et frequens phoenix.’ These poems indeed are 
 studded with gems of phrasing—‘ grandes proborum 
 virgines colonorum ’, ‘sub urbe possides, famem mundam ’, 
 “caelo perfruitur sereniore’, ‘ viva sed quies ponti ’,— 
 and they show that Martial had latent in him a vein of 
 imagination not unlike that which Goldsmith worked 
 when he wrote ‘ The Deserted Village’. 
 
 While the best and longest of the iambic pieces 
 treat of the picturesque, the most striking of the hendeca- 
 syllabics are concerned with personal emotions. Here 
 again Martial follows Catullus in the ‘Passer’ poems, 
 but for him the place of Lesbia is taken by male friends, 
 above all by his dear Julius Martialis. To him the three 
 most charming of the series are addressed, the invitation 
 to holiday, with its reminder of the hours—‘ qui nobis 
 pereunt et imputantur’ (V, xx); the description of the 
 happy life and all that it needs (X, xlvii) ; and the final 
 poem of farewell written in sorrow from Spain—‘ nulli 
 te facias nimis sodalem ’. 
 
 It would be possible to collect from Martial a small 
 anthology, in which each piece was of high poetical 
 quality, and most of these pieces would be either in iambics 
 or in hendecasyllabics. But this was not the sort of 
 thing that really pleased Martial’s public; what they 
 wanted was humorous realism, and if the humour was 
 somewhat gross, that was rather a recommendation than 
 a fault. Consequently the large majority of the Epigrams 
 are of the humorous type, and are written in the elegiac 
 metre. Pieces more than twelve lines in length are 
 comparatively rare, and a very large number are either 
 in four lines or in two. Generally speaking, the shorter 
 the epigram is, the stronger is the effect that it produces, 
 and the device whereby the sting of the sarcasm is kept 
 for the very last word is often used with wonderful effect. 
 
 xiil 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Many of the two-line pieces in particular reach perfection 
 within their limited sphere, and defy translation. To 
 take one simple example, no better and no worse than a 
 score of similar cases—(Bk. I, xxviii) : 
 
 hesterno fetere mero qui credit Acerram 
 fallitur: in lucem semper Acerra bibit. 
 
 “Tf you think it is yesterday’s wine smells so strong 
 On Acerra, you're wrong, 
 Acerra this morning was still drinking deep, 
 While you were asleep.”’ 
 
 An English translation may give the sense, but owing 
 to the character of our language it cannot reproduce the 
 finer points of sound and position of words on which 
 Martial depends for his effect. In his epigram the vital 
 points are the position of hesterno and fallitur, and the 
 sound of the syllable—ev—six times repeated in the two 
 lines; and these must almost inevitably disappear. 
 Still the joke remains, and although slight, it is a good 
 one, as chance once proved to me many years ago when 
 I was a master at a certain public school on the south 
 coast. I had been spending the night at the club and 
 was returning home about 3 A.M. one bright summer 
 morning, when, to my joy, I met my colleague, the 
 Reverend Mr X., who was in the habit of rising with the 
 sun to enjoy a walk over the downs. To ask him to take 
 my form to-morrow and to be assured of his willingness 
 was the work of a moment, and I went on to sleep the 
 sleep of the just. About half-past nine, however, my 
 landlady ushered the school porter into my bedroom— 
 ‘“‘ There’s no one with your lads, sir, and they’re making 
 a bit of a noise’”’. Jumping up in haste I ran across and 
 reproached my friend with his breach of trust. “‘ My 
 dear boy’’, said he, ‘‘ you asked me to take them ¢o- 
 morrow’’. JI was forced to apologize, and since then I 
 have always regarded this epigram with especial respect. 
 
 FLAW; 
 
 X1V 
 

 
as a 
 
 
 

 
BOOK ONE 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 I hope that in these little books of mine I have observed such due 
 proportion that no man who is conscious of his own rectitude can 
 complain about them, seeing that their sportive mood preserves, 
 even towards the meanest individuals, that decent respect im 
 which the authors of old were so lacking that they not only made 
 wrongful use of real names, but even did this in the case of the 
 great. For myself I would seek reputation at a lower price than 
 that, and the last thing for which I desire to be commended is 
 mere smartness. :, 
 
 May the malicious commentator abstain from meddling with 
 the plain meaning of my jokes, and from writing my epigrams 
 anew ; for he 1s dishonourable who misapplies ingenuity upon 
 another's book. I would make no apology for immodest unreserve 
 in word—that 1s, for the language of epigram—were I the first to 
 use tt, but this 1s the manner in which Catullus writes, and 
 Marsus, Pedo, Gaetulicus, and every other author whose works 
 are read all through ; yet af there be any man so ostentatiously 
 prim, that one may not, even on a single page, speak plain Latin 
 to him, he can be content to go no further than this preface—or 
 vather no further than the title. Epigrams are written for those 
 who are used to look on at the games of Flora ; therefore let no 
 Cato come into our playhouse ; or tf he come let him watch the 
 show—and methinks I shall be within my rights tf I close this 
 preface with some verse— 
 
 * When you knew that the games of gay Flora were on 
 You might from the theatre refrain : 
 Or did you, stern Cato, come in with a frown 
 Just to make a grim exit again ? 
 
BOOK ONE 
 
 I 
 mE KE BACE 
 
 SEE, at your service, if you list, 
 Martial the epigrammatist ; 
 
 To whom, kind reader, here below, 
 While he the joys of fame could know, 
 Such meed of glory you have given 
 As poets seldom reap in heaven. 
 
 II 
 DOE BOOK SPEAKS 
 
 IF you would choose a book to be 
 
 Your travelling comrade, I remind you 
 To buy a handy one like me, 
 
 And leave your heavy tomes behind you. 
 
 One that a single hand can hold 
 Is best of all, and ’twere a pity 
 Should you forget where such are sold 
 And wander vaguely through the city. 
 
 Near Pallas’ forum you shall see 
 
 The shrine of Peace, and close behind them 
 Secundus’ shop—a freedman he 
 
 Of Lucca’s sage—there you shall find them. 
 
 | 
 fire OLnOR LO. His BOOK 
 
 Poor little book, but you're safer here ; 
 Why seek Booksellers’ Row—and Fame ? 
 Mistress Rome is a blasée dame, 
 
 All her children will gibe and jeer : 
 
 Even her babies can sniff and sneer, 
 
 Young and old, they are all the same, 
 
 Poor little book, but you're safer here, 
 Why seek Booksellers’ Row—and Fame ? 
 
 They whose applause may seem sincere 
 Soon will toss you aside to shame. 
 
 Think you my pen is too austere ? 
 
 Go then fly ere it harm and maim, 
 
 Poor little book—but you're safer here. 
 
 3 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 IV 
 
 LO DOMITIAN 
 
 CAESAR, if thou shouldst read what I have writ, 
 Wear not the frown a world doth quake to see ; 
 Even in triumphs may the soldiers’ wit 
 Flow unreproved, aye tho’ they jest at thee ; 
 But let the smile thou grantest Thymelé, 
 Or gay Latinus, deck thy brow serene ; 
 From censure may my harmless mirth be free, 
 My page is wanton but my life is clean. 
 
 Vv 
 CTHEVEMPEROR SS REEL 
 
 I SHOWED a pageant of the sea 
 And in return you send to me 
 Your wretched lines, you mocker ; 
 Perhaps for this reward you look, 
 That I should send both bard and book 
 To Davy Jones’ locker. 
 
 VI 
 THE HARE AND Tal liv. 
 
 SAFELY the Eagle bore young Ganymede 
 
 In careful talons through the empty air ; 
 So now the lions hear their Quarry plead, 
 
 Safe in their mighty jaws doth sport the hare ! 
 A God of power supreme each marvel wrought— 
 Is Jove’s or Caesar’s greater in thy thought ? 
 
 VII 
 THE RRL ALS 
 
 ALTHOUGH Verona hears, I dare to say 
 That Stella’s lovely cushat soars above 
 The pretty sparrow of Catullus’ love. 
 
 Aye, lesser is thy singer’s vaunted lay 
 As is the sparrow lesser than the dove. 
 
 4 
 
BOOK ONE 
 
 VIII 
 
 TO DECIANUS 
 
 In that you follow Cato’s perfect way 
 
 And Thrasea’s law, but choose to live your day, 
 Nor seek a naked blade your cares to end, 
 
 You live as I would have you live, my friend ; 
 Fame cheaply won doth mere self-slaughter give, 
 I choose for praise the worth that dares to live. 
 
 IX 
 
 TORCOLETA 
 
 You long to be a pretty spark and win a hero’s fame, 
 But ‘pretty spark’ and ‘ petty fop’ are mostly much the 
 same. 
 
 Xx 
 
 LOVES’ CHARM 
 
 MARONILLA, Gemellus doth adore thee, 
 
 With instant prayers and vows doth oft implore thee, 
 And many a lover’s gift he lays before thee ; 
 
 Since neither beauty, grace, nor charm attend thee 
 What makes him seek thee so, and thus commend thee ? 
 A churchyard cough that promises to end thee. 
 
 XI 
 
 DOr SEALILTIAN US 
 
 As a knight they allow you ten shillings a day, 
 
 But your wine bill alone is just double your pay, 
 
 So the servants would have a hard service, I think, 
 If they served you hot water to mix with your drink, 
 For to bring you enough’s an impossible feat— 
 
 But you save them the trouble by taking it neat. 
 
 5 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 AIT 
 TOUREGOLUS 
 
 NEAR to Alcides’ town, cool Tivoli, 
 
 White Albula doth spread her misty mere, 
 And close, at the fourth milestone, thou shalt see 
 
 An holy grove and fields to Muses dear ; 
 
 A farm with rugged porch for shade was here 
 That nigh had wrought a dreadful deed—ah me 
 
 So suddenly it fell !—And thou wert near, 
 Scarce from beneath thy steeds had carried thee ! 
 I wot that even Fortune shrank aghast 
 
 From crime so foul, lest hate should be her meed. 
 Now is that ruin gain: for perils past 
 
 Are things of price to all that give them heed, 
 Dear Regulus, for had thy roof stood fast, 
 
 It had not proved that there are Gods indeed. 
 
 gO b UE 
 ARRIA ANDUPALT US 
 
 WHEN Arria, that model wife, 
 
 Drew from her breast the blood-stained knife— 
 ‘ This does not hurt, dear lord,’ she said, 
 
 ‘’Tis of your hurt I am afraid.’ 
 
 i WB" 
 THE HAREV AND THE LIONS 
 
 THE other day we witnessed, Sire, a very funny thing, 
 
 When lions wantoned merrily and sported in the ring, 
 
 The while a hare leaped gaily forth from out their open jaws 
 
 And gambolled with the fearsome beasts amid our loud 
 applause. 
 
 We wondered how the captured prey escaped the lions wild 
 
 Till we were told that they were yours—and so of course were 
 mild. 
 
 XV 
 LO MATS SIL AN 
 
 Au Julius mine, I count no friend more dear, 
 So faithful love and friendship have we known ; 
 And now your sixtieth consulate is near, 
 How few the days that you can call your own ; 
 Defer not joy, but claim the past alone ; 
 6 
 
BOOK ONE 
 
 Trust not a fortune that may ne’er appear, 
 Too oft we find that wingéd joys are flown ; 
 But care and linkéd toils are ever here. 
 Nay, with both hands, we needs must grasp delight 
 And hold her to our heart while yet we may : 
 Yet even thus she oft doth mock our might 
 And from the fond embrace doth glide away. 
 True wisdom saith not ‘ Life shall soon be bright ’ ; 
 To-morrow is too late—Live thou to-day. 
 
 XVI 
 OLLA PODRIDA 
 
 GooD work you'll find, some poor, and much that’s worse, 
 It takes all sorts to make a book of verse. 
 
 XVII 
 DECLINED WITH THANKS 
 
 You say, ‘ There’s need of men to plead’ ; 
 You bid me don the gown ; 
 
 There’s need, I vow, of men to plough— 
 But must I turn a clown ? 
 
 Sy ELL 
 LO LUCCA 
 
 Wuy with this new cheap Vatican your old Falernian 
 smother ? 
 
 What wrong has the good liquor done, what benefit the other ? 
 
 Your guests perhaps deserve to die: for them I do not care. 
 
 But ’tis a shame that all must blame to slay a vintage rare. 
 
 XIX 
 A Teele lis LAY 
 
 Four teeth, I think, were left to you 
 Until, my ancient dame, 
 
 A fit of coughing shot out two, 
 A second did the same. 
 
 f 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 And now the third to come shall find 
 There’s nothing in the way, 
 
 So, Aelia, calm your anxious mind 
 And cough the livelong day. 
 
 XX 
 TO CAECILIANUS 
 
 Wuat crazy trick is this you do ? 
 Your guests look on amazed and rueful : 
 You bade them come to dine with you, 
 And now you gobble every truffle ! 
 What sort of dainty ought to fill 
 That monstrous maw, you greedy sinner ? 
 You'd eat if I could have my will 
 The truffles served for Claudius’ dinner. 
 
 XXI 
 MUCIUS AND PORSENA 
 
 THE hand that sought a King but slew a slave 
 Was thrust to perish in the altar flame, 
 And Porsena his hardy foe forgave 
 And bade him go, touched by a generous shame. 
 While Mucius endured his hand to maim 
 The monarch dared not to behold the deed ; 
 And thus that hand has earned the greater fame, 
 A truer blow had won a lesser meed. 
 
 XXIT 
 
 LHE HARE ANDATHE TIONS 
 
 FEAR not the lion, little hare, 
 
 Those dreadful fangs thou needst not flee, 
 For these have never learned to tear 
 
 A puny little beast like thee ; 
 On mightier foes he spends his rage, 
 
 From weakling necks doth he refrain, 
 And shall thy blood his thirst assuage ? 
 
 That petty draught would he disdain, 
 
 38 
 
BOOK ONE 
 
 As thou, for hounds a fitting prey, 
 His hunger canst not satisfy, 
 
 So Caesar’s might doth turn away 
 And pass the Dacian stripling by. 
 
 to XLT 
 BOON COMPANIONS 
 
 IF you would feast at Cotta’s board, 
 
 The baths your only chance afford 
 To get an invitation. 
 
 I never yet with him have dined. 
 
 My naked charms do not, I find, 
 Excite his admiration. 
 
 XXIV 
 TO DECIANUS 
 
 To look on yonder fellow’s brow austere 
 
 And shaggy locks might fill the soul with fear, 
 But hear him speak and you would surely say, 
 
 ‘ The Curius or Camillus of to-day.’ 
 
 Trust not to looks, they are a treacherous guide ; 
 But yesterday one took him for a bride ! 
 
 XXV 
 TO FAUSTINUS 
 
 PUBLISH your works—too long have you forborne— 
 Let not your polished work in darkness lie ; 
 ‘Tis such as Cecrops’ city should not scorn, 
 Nor Rome’s ripe scholars pass in silence by. 
 Nay, doth it irk you that reward is nigh ? 
 Why bar out fame who standeth at the gate ? 
 Give birth to what must live, before you die, 
 For honour paid to ashes comes too late. 
 
 XXVI 
 TO SEXTILIANUS 
 
 ALL the seats to knights allotted 
 Cannot vie with you, I think ; 
 
 At this rate you’d be besotted 
 E’en if water were your drink. 
 
 9 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 You're a beggar most persistent, 
 For you cadge from all at hand 
 And you send to seats far distant 
 Your importunate demand ; 
 Yet the liquor that you favour 
 In Abruzzi never grew, 
 And no Tuscan hill could flavour ; 
 Clusters sweet enough for you ; 
 Nay, you quaff a vintage classic 
 That Opimius knew of yore, 
 And the blackened cask of Massic 
 Yields for you its ripened store. 
 Ten full cups I don’t deny you, 
 But if more you wish to drain, 
 Then a pot-house should supply you 
 With the dregs of Laletane. 
 
 XXVII 
 LIS) WISESTOCEP ORGS 
 
 I may have asked you here to dine, 
 But that was late at night, 
 
 And none of us had spared the wine 
 If I remember right. 
 
 You thought the invitation meant, 
 Though wine obscured my wit ! 
 
 And—O most parlous precedent— 
 You made a note of it ! 
 
 The maxim that in Greece was true 
 Is true in Rome to-day— 
 
 ‘I hate a fellow-toper who 
 Remembers what I say.’ 
 
 XXVIII 
 ON ACERRA 
 
 HE reeks, you might think, of his yesterday’s drink ; 
 But knowing his customs and ways, 
 You are wrong, I’ll be sworn, for he drank till the morn, 
 So the savour is truly to-day’s. 
 10 
 
BOOK ONE 
 XXIX 
 TO FIDENTINUS 
 
 A RUMOUR Says that you recite 
 
 As yours the verses that I write. 
 
 Friend, if you'll credit them to me 
 
 I’ll send you all my poems free ; 
 
 But if as yours you’d have them known, 
 Buy them, and they’ll become your own. 
 
 XXX 
 HOPDLAULUS 
 
 A SURGEON once, you now begin 
 As undertaker’s man, 
 
 To earn a bedside practice in 
 The only way you can. 
 
 XXXI 
 THE VOW 
 
 ENCOLPUS, the centurion’s favoured slave, 
 
 Shall lay his locks, great Phoebus, at thy shrine ; 
 When Pudens hath the guerdon of the brave 
 
 In place and power, that offering shall be thine. 
 Ere down shall mar his cheek, claim thy reward, 
 
 While flowing curls the milk-white neck adorn ; 
 Long may thy boons endure to slave and lord ; 
 
 Let manhood wait, but let him soon be shorn. 
 
 8 PO O.G URE 
 ON SABIDIUS 
 
 I po not love you, Dr Fell. 
 
 The reason why I cannot tell. 
 But this at least I know full well. 
 I do not love you, Dr Fell. 
 
 1 With due acknowledgments. 
 ih 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 XXXITI 
 
 ON GELLIA 
 
 SHE weeps not for her sire if none be near, 
 
 In company she calls up many a tear. 
 
 True mourners would not have their sorrows known, 
 For grief of heart will choose to weep alone. 
 
 XXXIV 
 DOLE S BLA 
 
 You never guard or close the doors 
 To hide your pranks from observation, 
 And for those stolen joys of yours 
 Your confidant is all the nation. 
 Nay, those who see your wantonness 
 Delight you more than those who share it, 
 No pleasure pleases you unless 
 To all the world you can declare it. 
 From brazen ways pray, Lesbia, turn 
 And let the demi-mondaines teach you, 
 From Chioné or Ias learn 
 A show of virtue, I beseech you. 
 You think my censure harsh? Not so, 
 For if you follow my direction 
 I would not ask you to forgo 
 Your lovers, but to shun detection. 
 
 XXXV 
 LTO VCORNELIUS 
 
 YOU say my verses are not fit— 
 So loose and frivolous their wit— 
 For pedagogues to read in school ; 
 Cornelius, you forget the rule 
 That little verses such as these, 
 Like wives and husbands, cannot please 
 If they are prudish. Would you say 
 ‘Write me a wedding-song, but pray 
 Be grave as in a funeral dirge ’ ? 
 At Flora’s feast would any urge 
 
 12 
 
BOOK 
 
 That every light 0’ love should be 
 Veiled with a matron’s modesty ? 
 
 These merry songs, to win success, 
 Need just a touch of wantonness ; 
 A dullard would Priapus be 
 
 If made a priest of Cybele. 
 
 XXXVI 
 ESM Ne (4 ON Ne Bad cee) 
 
 LucaNnus, Tullus, if the Gods had given 
 
 To you the fate of Castor and his brother, 
 In loving emulation each had striven 
 
 To give his life in ransom for the other, 
 And he the first to seek dark Proserpine 
 
 ONE 
 
 Had said, ‘ My brother, live thy days and mine.’ 
 
 * XXXVII 
 LUC DASS US 
 Your chamber ware is made of gold, 
 Your drinking-cup of glass is ; 
 ‘Tis plain that you more precious hold 
 The food that through you passes. 
 XXXVITI 
 
 DOP IDEN TINGS 
 
 THE verse is mine but friend, when you declaim it, 
 
 It seems like yours, so grievously you maim it. 
 
 XXXIX 
 TO DECIANUS 
 
 How few the friends like those in years of yore, 
 That honest age, but if one such there be 
 
 In Hellene culture steeped and Roman lore 
 Ennobled by a true simplicity, 
 
 A soul that Right and Honour hold in fee, 
 
 Whose inmost thoughts and vows are void of shame, 
 
 Whose giant mind upholds and makes him free, 
 My life on this—that Decian is his name. 
 
 b3 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 Ny 
 THE MPO TE Tes 2 OO inate 
 
 May those who frown as they peruse this book, 
 On all with envy, no one on them, look. 
 
 XLI 
 TAR AW LD 
 
 CAECILIUS, you think your taste is pretty ; 
 Believe me, any kennel in the city 
 Could furnish rascals just as wise and witty. 
 
 Yours is the kind that every gutter hatches, 
 Across the Tiber it is bred in batches 
 And trades in broken glass and peddles matches. 
 
 If you would find your peers, the street supplies them, 
 The sellers of boiled peas, the lout that buys them, 
 The cheating quacks with snakes to advertize them. 
 
 The salt meat vendor’s hireling is your fellow, 
 To yours the street-musician’s tones are mellow, 
 The reeking sausage-seller thus does bellow. 
 
 Slave-dealing Spaniards, refuse of the nation, 
 The debauchee whose drivelling iteration 
 Is proof of babbling age and dissipation. 
 
 These are your equals. It does not beseem you 
 To count yourself what no one else will deem you, 
 No Tettius Caballus we esteem you. 
 
 Let not the meaning of his name misguide you. 
 The taste and wit that nature has denied you 
 No vulgar dullard’s horse-play can provide you. 
 
 XLII 
 LHE LOVING WIFE 
 
 WHEN Porcia heard how Brutus fell 
 And strove to join her lord, 
 
 *Twas vain, for they who loved her well 
 Withheld from her the sword. 
 
 14 
 
BOOK ONE 
 
 “ Your witless care,’ she cried, ‘ hath sought 
 My purpose to deny ; 
 
 I deemed my father’s deed had taught 
 That all who will may die, 
 
 Though troublous knaves their wish withstand 
 And every weapon hide.’ 
 
 Deep in her throat a flaming brand 
 She thrust forthwith and died. 
 
 ALIN! 
 TO MANCINUS 
 
 You bade us dine with you, three score 
 
 Invited guests, and nothing more 
 
 You gave us than a wretched boar— 
 Aye, that was all I vow. 
 
 No Autumn grapes of flavour rare, 
 
 No apple honey-sweet was there, 
 
 Nor any ripe and luscious pear, 
 Hung late upon the bough. 
 
 No rosy peaches graced the board, 
 Your baskets still their cheeses hoard, 
 No olive jar its bounty poured 
 
 To cheer our drooping mind. 
 
 In lonely state that pigling lay, 
 
 So small that ‘twere an easy prey 
 
 For any brat unarmed to slay ; 
 Yet there was worse behind ! 
 
 We never got a single bit, 
 But only sat and looked at it, 
 So in the Arena one might sit, 
 And feast his eyes while starving. 
 
 You stingy host, for such a feat 
 
 I will not wish you boar to eat, 
 
 But only hope, when next you meet, 
 The boar may do the carving. 
 
 ALLY) 
 BOA OLD MEH EME 
 
 ‘Hares and Lions again,’ so I hear you complain ; 
 If they seem but monotonous fare 
 
 And for vengeance you pine, you can ask me to dine 
 And give me two courses of hare. 
 
 15 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 XLV 
 POET’S PADDING 
 
 LEstT all overlook so tiny a book 
 And brevity lead to its loss, 
 
 I will not refuse such padding to use 
 As ‘ Tov 0 arrapePopevos.’ 
 
 eal 
 FESTINA LENTPE 
 
 WHEN you say—' Quick : let’s get it over ’— 
 I feel myself a languid lover. 
 
 It’s only when you bid me wait 
 
 That I dash from the starting-gate. 
 
 If you are in such haste to go 
 
 You'd better tell me to be slow. 
 
 XLVII 
 LOVDTIAGLGS 
 
 Now leechcraft forsaking you try undertaking 
 And furnish the funerals of men, 
 
 So your trade is the same tho’ you alter the name— 
 For you always provided them then. 
 
 SA TEVILLE 
 THE HARE ANDSIAE SIONS 
 
 THE bull was not spared by that wide-open maw ; 
 But the hare gambols lightly and frisks in his jaw, 
 Running now all the swifter, escaped from the foe, 
 And something of leonine courage doth show. 
 She was never more safe in the loneliest fen, 
 Never more sure of life in the depths of her den. 
 If you wish, wanton hare, from the greyhound to fly, 
 Then the jaws of the lion will refuge supply. 
 
 16 
 
BOOK ONE 
 
 XLIX 
 TO LICINIANUS 
 
 THE Celtiberian tribesmen tell thy praise 
 
 And proudly doth our Spain thy fame record, 
 How glad thy lot on Bilbilis to gaze, 
 
 The city famed alike for steed and sword. 
 
 Caius the ancient with his locks of snow, 
 The shattered crags of Vadavevo’s peak, 
 
 And soft Boterdus’ valley shalt thou know, 
 Whose pleasant gtoves Pomona loves to seek. 
 
 How sweet in genial Congedus to swim, 
 
 Or breast the waters of the nymphs’ calm pool, 
 In Salo’s brook to brace each weary limb 
 
 Where steel is hardened by his waters cool. 
 
 Voberca’s self—no further need’st thou stray— 
 
 Shall bring thee game, and thou shalt hunt at ease, 
 And cloudless summer’s heat canst thou allay 
 
 By golden Tagus’ bank beneath the trees. 
 
 Dercenna shall thy parching thirst assuage, 
 And Nutha colder than the frozen snow, 
 
 But ere the wrath of hoarse December rage 
 Seek the calm shores of sunny Tarraco. 
 
 Thy Laletania shall thy refuge be, 
 And there shalt thou the boar or hind ensnare, 
 The while thy verdurer tracks the stag for thee, 
 Thy sturdy steed may tire the cunning hare. 
 
 There unkempt urchins seek the genial glow 
 Thy forest-girdled hearthstone doth afford, 
 
 Where rustic guests a generous welcome know 
 And many a hungry hunter shares thy board. 
 
 The sandal, crescent-decked, the robe of state, 
 The cloak of purple dye thou shalt not need, 
 Nor fear the hoarse Liburnian at thy gate ; 
 No clients grumble there, no widows plead ; 
 
 No pale defendant breaks into thy sleep ; 
 Nay, if thou wilt, turn mornings into nights : 
 The world’s applause let others seek and keep, 
 Yet feel some pity for those hapless wights. 
 
 And while friend Sura goes 1n quest of praise, 
 Seek true delight henceforth and pride forswear, 
 Justly the joys of life demand our days, 
 For fame already hath her ample share, 
 
 17 B 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 i 
 LARA LALLA 
 
 SINCE Homer says, ‘ they sliced the other meat, 
 You call your scullion ‘ Slice ’—a gay conceit ; 
 And may not I adopt a like device ? 
 
 For ‘ T’other’ as a name is just as nice. 
 
 LI 
 THE HARE AND THE LIONS 
 
 Wuy flee the lion in vainglorious flight ? 
 The sturdiest foe alone provokes his might, 
 And will he turn from lordly bulls to thee ; 
 Or stoop to crush a neck he scarce can see ? 
 Ah, puny hare, that hope must thou forgo, 
 Thou shalt not fall to such a noble foe. 
 
 Fed 
 FALSE CLAIMS 
 
 To you will I commend my book ; 
 
 That is if Fidentinus brook 
 
 My claim to keep an owner’s rights ; 
 
 He always steals what he recites. 
 Should he oppress it or enslave, 
 
 Defend it and convict the knave ; 
 
 And if he claim its lord to be, 
 
 Say it was mine but now is free. 
 
 Three times and four the truth proclaim 
 And put the kidnapper to shame. 
 
 LIIl 
 LOS FIDENTIN GS 
 
 You stole my book—one page and one alone 
 Is yours, indelibly ’tis signed and sealed 
 With vilest imperfections all your own : 
 Thus of the rest your theft doth stand revealed. 
 18 
 
BOOK ONE 
 
 So when the courtly gallants of the Town . 
 Are elbowed by a bumpkin smeared and patched, 
 Their cloaks are sullied by the greasy clown ; 
 Is vulgar clay with clearest crystal matched ? 
 When to swan-haunted streams a crow is nigh 
 The carrion bird hath yet a fouler taint, 
 When thrills the grove to nightingales, the pie 
 Mars with her evil shriek the Attic plaint. 
 No surer proof, no advocate, I need 
 Your page stands forth to prove your felon deed. 
 
 LIV 
 ROPRUSCTS 
 
 Your friends abound on every side, 
 But is your heart all occupied ? 
 
 For if one vacant place there be 
 
 I pray you give that place to me. 
 
 A love untried may yet be true, 
 
 For all old friends have once been new. 
 Make proof of mine, since, if ’tis fit, 
 The years can only strengthen it. 
 
 HABA 
 COUN DLRY PLEASURES 
 
 DEAR Fronto, famed alike in peace and war, 
 If you would learn what my chief wishes are, 
 Know that I crave some acres few to till, 
 
 And live at ease as careless as I will. 
 
 Why should I always trudge the stony street 
 And go each morn some haughty lord to greet, 
 When all the country’s spoils are mine to get 
 Caught in the meshes of a hunting-net ? 
 
 When I with line could snare the leaping trout 
 And from the hive press golden honey out, 
 While Joan my humble board with eggs supplies 
 Boiled on a fire whose logs she never buys ? 
 May he not love this life who loves not me, 
 And still in Rome a pale-faced client be ! 
 
 19 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 AVAL 
 THE SEASONS Or Liiis 
 
 THE rain doth vex the vineyard still 
 And drips from every vine. 
 Vintner, whatever be your will, 
 You cannot sell neat wine. 
 
 EV01 
 MODERATION 
 
 You bid me say what kind of maid 
 Can draw me or repel ? 
 
 My friend, I hate a forward jade 
 But loathe a prude as well. 
 
 I love the mean : extremes are vain 
 And never bring me joy ; 
 
 Love long denied is grief and pain, 
 While easy favours cloy. 
 
 SAV LLL 
 THE CONNOISSEUR 
 
 “Er1cHT hundred down ’—the dealer said : 
 I smiled—‘ No, not to-day.’ 
 
 But Phoebus straight the money paid 
 And took the lad away. 
 
 ‘You should not be so mean,’—you cry. 
 ‘If Phoebus, why not you?’ 
 
 I am not built like him; or I 
 Might be as generous too. 
 
 LIX 
 TO GLAGCUS 
 
 THE most luxurious baths on earth, 
 Rich marbles to recline on, 
 
 And then a wretched florin’s worth 
 Is all I got to dine on! 
 
 Ah, give me Lupus’ dingy den ; 
 Tis little consolation 
 
 To bathe in luxury—and then 
 To perish of starvation. 
 
 20 
 
BOOK ONE 
 * LX 
 THE HARE AND THE LIONS 
 
 THOUGH you may pass, Miss Hare, within his jaw, 
 The lion thinks no flesh is in his maw. 
 
 Where is your back, and where those shoulders round, 
 Wherein the bullock feels the deep-struck wound ? 
 Why tease in empty sport the forest lord ? 
 
 He picks the beast that shall his meal afford. 
 
 LXI 
 Pare CAlLALOGUE OF POETS 
 
 WELL doth Verona love her poet-seer, 
 To Virgil’s sacred name doth Mantua thrill, 
 And though she deems Stella and Livy dear 
 Apona holds her Flaccus dearer still. 
 To Nile that waters Egypt’s rainless coast 
 Apollodorus hath his lustre lent. 
 Two Senecas are proud Cordova’s boast 
 With Lucan peerless and pre-eminent. 
 Cadiz the gay delights in Canius’ name 
 Augusta doth with Decian’s glory shine ; 
 So too our Bilbilis shall tell your fame 
 One day, my friend, and haply whisper mine. 
 
 LXII 
 A CHANGE OF CLIMATE 
 
 LAEVINA was a Stricter prude 
 Than Sabine dames of old, 
 
 And e’en her husband’s rigorous mood 
 Was not a whit more cold. 
 
 Alas, to bathe she loved to go 
 And thus was she undone, 
 
 For Tunbridge Wells enhanced the woe 
 That Cheltenham had begun. 
 
 *Twas there she felt the amorous flame, 
 And fled with gallant gay : 
 So ‘twas Penelope that came, 
 But Helen went away. 
 21 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 LXIII 
 TOV GELER 
 
 You’D have me read my verse. Nay that ensures 
 The consequence that you would make them yours. 
 
 (BD. GP) 
 THE BOASTER 
 
 Yow’RE rich and young, as all confess, 
 And none denies your loveliness ; 
 
 But when we hear your boastful tongue 
 You're neither pretty, rich, nor young. 
 
 LXV 
 THE DOUBLE-ENTENDRE 
 
 ‘Ficus,’ I said, but when you heard 
 You mocked it as a barbarous word 
 And called my blunder gross. 
 Your sort and mine, as now I see 
 Do differ—fundamentally : 
 So yours shall be, ‘ Ficos.’ 
 
 LXVI 
 THIS IAG DA oie 
 
 INSATIABLE thief, you’re wrong to think 
 That poets can be made at such a price ; 
 Though paper’s cheap and copying and ink, 
 Believe me eighteen-pence will not suffice. 
 Seek an unpublished work, verse yet unknown, 
 Whose virgin page its owner guards within 
 Close locked and sealed and scanned by him alone, 
 Unsmeared as yet by any studious chin. 
 For books once known can hardly be suborned 
 To change their lord ; find an unpolished scroll 
 With boss and parchment cover unadorned— 
 Some such I have and would not tell a soul— 
 Remember, if for stolen fame you look, 
 To buy the author’s silence, not his book. 
 22 
 
BOOK 
 LXVII 
 LORCERYLUS 
 
 You often say my work is coarse. ’Tis true 
 But then it must be so—it deals with you. 
 
 Ley Lib 
 Pee wNoY GLE 
 
 ‘Tis Naevia if he smile or weep ; 
 
 There’s nothing he can do without her ; 
 If silent for a while he keep, 
 
 That very silence is about her. 
 
 Tis Naevia still, do what he may 
 Drink, eat, gesticulate, or mutter 
 She only is his ‘ Yea’ and ‘ Nay’ 
 Which, save for Her, he could not utter. 
 
 When writing to salute his Sire, 
 
 His mind from her he could not sever, 
 But ended with a lover’s fire 
 
 ‘ My only life, my light for ever.’ 
 
 With mocking glance did Naevia read 
 And slyly smiled above the letter ; 
 
 But, foolish Rufus, you’ve no need 
 To rage—the’re girls as good and better. 
 
 {Nihal BD, 
 Ae MOKTAL SPAN 
 
 TARENTUM worships Canius now, 
 Of old she worshipped Pan ; 
 
 And thus the merry God doth bow 
 Before the merry man. 
 
 LXX 
 GREETINGS 
 
 Go, little book, to greet my friend for me, 
 Do reverence in Proculus’ bright halls ; 
 And if thou ask the way, I’ll tell it thee— 
 
 ONE 
 
 Pass Castor’s shrine and Vesta’s ancient walls, 
 
 That guard the Virgin Goddess’ sacred home ; 
 
 And thence a reverent temple thou shalt see 
 
 Fair with the statues of the Lord of Rome. 
 23 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Near is the vast Colossus decked with rays 
 Wherewith the Rhodian marvel may not vie ; 
 Yet hasten on and tarry not to gaze, 
 And pass the shrine of gay Lyaeus by: 
 Hard by the fane of Cybele, aglow 
 With Corybants, in colours all ablaze 
 Stands the fair house and lofty portico. 
 
 Go near thereto,’tis never barred with pride, 
 But Phoebus and the muse it holdeth dear ; 
 To these its door is ever opened wide. 
 But, if ‘tis asked why Martial is not here, 
 Say ‘ He doth weave thy praises into song 
 And may not spare an hour to aught beside, 
 For, had he come, his verse had suffered wrong.’ 
 
 LXXI 
 TO pO Ash 
 
 A SEVEN-FOLD draught to toast Justina pour, 
 For Laevia six, and five must Lycas claim, 
 To Ida three are due, to Lyde four, 
 One draught for every letter of a name ; 
 That spell should draw them, but, if vain it be, 
 I drink to sleep—he’s sure to come to me. 
 
 LXXII 
 TO FIDENTINUS 
 
 Do you design that verse of mine 
 Should bring repute to you, 
 
 Or did you deem by such a scheme 
 To be a poet too ? 
 
 Well, I suppose, the pearly rows 
 ’Twixt Aegle’s lips that glow, 
 
 Though purchased bone, she calls her own, 
 And thinks them truly so. 
 
 Lycoris, too, of mulberry hue 
 Believes—delusion fond— 
 
 The powder puff is quite enough 
 To make a lovely blonde. 
 
 Must we regard you as a bard ? 
 Why, then I will admit 
 
 Your head has shocks of lovely locks 
 Without a hair on it. 
 
 24 
 
BOOK ONE 
 
 Lei 
 TO CAECILIANUS 
 
 WHEN you offered your wife to each passer-by free, 
 Not a soul ever wanted to try her. 
 
 You have learnt wisdom now: kept beneath lock and key 
 She has crowds of men waiting to buy her. 
 
 EXXIV 
 LONPACEA 
 
 You had some chance to disavow 
 What rumour said of him and you 
 
 Until you married him: but now 
 Will any hold the tale untrue ° 
 
 LXXV 
 PRUDENCE 
 
 WHEN Linus begged a loan, his friend, 
 A prudent soul, declined to lend 
 
 But gave him half, because he found 
 That saved ten shillings in the pound. 
 
 AL 
 THE POET'S WAGES 
 
 DEAR Flaccus, you the best reward of all my anxious thought, 
 
 To manhood grown in that far town that once Antenor sought, 
 
 Have done with those Pierian strains the Muses love to sing ; 
 
 Of all the band none to your hand a shilling e’er will bring. 
 
 What from Apollo will you get ? Let Pallas be your friend, 
 
 A maid of sense without pretence, and lots of cash to lend. 
 
 What can the Bacchic ivy give? But the Palladian tree 
 
 Still useful grows with bending boughs in grey-green harmony. 
 
 On Helicon you naught will find—a lyre perhaps or rose, 
 
 Or a bright gleam of babbling stream, and noise of vain 
 “ bravos.’ 
 
 Why court the nymphs that in Permess or Cirrha have their 
 home ? 
 
 Richer by far and nearer are the markets of our Rome. 
 
 There you will hear the chink of coin: with poets only misses 
 
 Send through the air to our poor chair the sound of empty 
 kisses. 
 
 25 
 
MARTIAL'S: EPIGRAMS 
 
 LXXVII 
 ON CHARINUS 
 
 His health is good yet he is always pale ; 
 
 He drinks but little, ’tis of no avail, 
 
 So wan his face no sun can darken it, 
 
 And good digestion aids him not a whit, 
 
 Not even rouge that pallid cheek can flush— 
 And e’en his vices do not make him blush ! 
 
 LXXVIII 
 (MEP TAOS 
 
 THOUGH death had gripped his throat he knew not fear 
 When the black venom crept into his cheek, 
 But stayed awhile his sorrowing friends to cheer, 
 Then tearless turned the nether world to seek ; 
 Dark poison’s numbing draught he put aside 
 And would not brook slow famine’s long delay ; 
 Stainless he lived and as a Roman died, 
 And since he dared to tread the nobler way, 
 More glorious than Cato’s was his end 
 Who chose to die though Caesar was his friend. 
 
 LXXIX 
 
 LOPALTALGS 
 
 SOME busy task you still pursue, nor seem to care a jot 
 Whether there’s anything to do or whether there is not. 
 As business man or counsellor your ardour never cools, 
 You're busy driving bargains or as busy driving mules. 
 ‘Tis unemployment that you dread : that evil circumvent, 
 My busy friend, by dying ; for that job is permanent. 
 
 LXXX 
 LOVGANGS 
 
 You begged a meal the day you died ; 
 You got it as was due ; 
 
 And then you perished mortified 
 Because it wasn’t two. 
 
 26 
 
BOOK ONE 
 
 EXX XT 
 TO SOSIBIANUS 
 
 YOuR mother was a slave ; but though you guess it 
 Why call your father ‘ Master ’ and confess it ? 
 
 LXX XII 
 Pare GALE, 
 
 BEHOLD the crumbled mass that here 
 Spreads o’er the ground its vast extent ; 
 To crime unspeakable ’twas near, 
 Yet is the ruin innocent. 
 
 Beneath the arch its master lay, 
 The ponderous roof-tree overhead, 
 And thence he scarce was borne away 
 Ere fell the mass in ruin dread. 
 
 Whilst he was there, each mouldering wall, 
 Each straining stone, the weight endured ; 
 Ah Regulus, it dared not fall 
 Until thy safety was assured. 
 
 Now as we shrink in fear to see 
 How nigh the dreadful peril came, 
 We know the Gods have care of thee 
 And kept the ruin free from blame. 
 
 1B O89, GBT 
 TO MANNEIA 
 
 Your dog licks your mouth and you don’t push him from it. 
 But what says the proverb—‘ A dog and his vomit ’ ? 
 
 LXXXIV 
 ON QUIRINALIS 
 
 CHILDREN he wants, but fears the marriage bond ; 
 Yet his dislikes and fancies correspond ; 
 
 For kindly handmaids set the matter right ; 
 
 The fields and mansions of the worthy knight 
 
 Are well supplied with slavelings—knightlings rather ; 
 To each of whom he is a proper father. 
 
 27 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 LXXXV 
 THIS PEROT BR REV Ae te 
 
 Poor Marius! the auctioneer, 
 Who glibly spoke as he was bidden 
 To keep his client’s credit clear, 
 Revealed the truth he should have hidden. 
 
 ‘ Observe,’ said he ‘ this favoured spot 
 The land well tilled, the outlook pretty, 
 In short an eligible lot 
 Conveniently near the city. 
 
 ‘Pray, gentlemen, do not suppose 
 
 The sale is forced—that’s not suggested ; 
 The owner not a penny owes, 
 
 Nay, he has money well invested. 
 
 ‘Does some one ask what makes him sell ? 
 Mere fancy that it is not healthy ; 
 He’s lost slaves, cattle, crops—and well, 
 You know the whims that move the wealthy.’ 
 
 I hear that no one cared to buy— 
 Since none was loser by profession— 
 And Marius still wonders why 
 The land remains in his possession. 
 
 ve DDO. ©. 0.4 
 NEAR NEIGHBOURS 
 
 You think that I’m a happy man 
 With Novius so near me, 
 
 And when I lift my finger can 
 Get him at once to cheer me. 
 
 The truth is he’s as far away 
 As is my other friend 
 
 Who rules Syene’s land to-day 
 Where Nile’s blue waters end. 
 
 I never meet him at a meal, 
 Nor find his door ajar, 
 
 There’s not a soul in Rome, I feel, 
 So near and yet so far. 
 
 Well, either I or he must move 
 Away from here, that’s plain. 
 
 When we’re not neighbours, it may prove 
 That we shall meet again. 
 
 28 
 
BOOK ONE 
 * LXXXVII 
 TO FESCENNIA 
 
 THAT your breath may not smell of your yesterday’s drink 
 A pastille will serve as protection, you think. 
 
 It may whiten your teeth ; but it does not avail 
 
 To cover the reek of the far-wafted gale 
 
 That comes from your nethermost caverns : ’tis blent 
 With the fumes of your liquor, that odorous scent. 
 
 Have done with such tricks then: they do not deceive us: 
 We know you're a toper: with that you must leave us. 
 
 LXXXVIII 
 ON A PAGE-BOY’S GRAVE 
 
 DEAR Alcimus, reft from your loving lord, 
 Slain in your spring, 
 
 Here is your wayside grave with tender sward 
 For covering. 
 
 No tottering pile of marble here shall stand, 
 That, well I know, 
 
 Vain toil should raise for Time’s relentless hand 
 To overthrow. 
 
 Nay, rather shading pine and shapely yew 
 Is planted here 
 
 And meadow flowers besprinkled with the dew 
 Of many a tear. 
 
 And take, beloved, for memorial 
 This song from me, 
 
 A monument that shall not waste nor fall 
 While time shall be. 
 
 I pray when Lachesis has spun mine hours 
 To their last thread, 
 
 Thus may I lie with simple trees and flowers 
 Above my head. 
 
 LXXXIX 
 TO CINNA 
 
 CINNA, you whisper in one’s ear 
 
 The things that all the world might hear, 
 You laugh, complain, dispute, and moan 
 As if ’twere for one ear alone ; 
 
 29 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Your silence—aye your clamour—wear 
 A whispering and furtive air ; 
 
 ‘Tis thus with songs, opinions too ; 
 
 Has this disease so mastered you 
 
 That when all loyal subjects sing, 
 
 You merely hum ‘ God save the King ’ ? 
 
 XC 
 
 QuoD numquam maribus iunctam te, Bassa, uidebam 
 Quodque tibi moechum fabula nulla dabat, 
 
 Omne sed officium circa te semper obibat 
 Turba tui sexus, non adeunte uiro, 
 
 Esse uidebaris, fateor, Lucretia nobis : 
 At tu, pro facinus, Bassa, fututor eras. 
 
 Inter se geminos audes committere cunnos 
 Mentiturque uirum prodigiosa Venus. 
 
 Commenta es dignum Thebano aenigmate monstrum, 
 Hic, ubi uir non est, ut sit adulterium. 
 
 AGI 
 LORE AE TA 
 
 You blame my verse ; to publish you decline ; 
 Show us your own or cease to carp at mine. 
 
 XCII 
 
 SAEPE mihi queritur non siccis Cestos ocellis, 
 Tangi se digito, Mamuriane, tuo. 
 
 Non opus est digito : totum tibi Ceston habeto, 
 Si dest nil aliud, Mamuriane, tibi. 
 
 Sed si nec focus est nec nudi sponda grabati 
 Nec curtus Chiones Antiopesue calix, 
 
 Cerea si pendet lumbis et scriptalacerna 
 Dimidiasque nates Gallica paeda tegit, 
 
 Pasceris et nigrae solo nidore culinae 
 Et bibis inmundam cum cane pronus aquam, 
 
 Non culum, neque enim est culus, qui non cacat olim, 
 Sed fodiam digito qui superest oculum : 
 
 Nec me zelotypum nec dixeris esse malignum. 
 Denique pedica, Mamuriane, satur. 
 
 30 
 
BOOK ONE 
 
 XCITI 
 COMRADES 
 
 HERE sleeps Aquinus—to his friend at rest 
 Death doth restore him, 
 
 That friend who to the mansions of the blest 
 Had gone before him. 
 
 Each was a legion’s captain ; in the fight 
 *Twas his to lead it ; 
 
 But each has won a record yet more bright— 
 Here may’st thou read it. 
 
 They lived in honour’s hallowed bond, and died 
 That bond unparted ; 
 
 No common thought of envy could divide 
 The loyal-hearted. 
 
 eee 
 ONEANGOLDMACTRESS 
 
 WHEN you had lovers by the score 
 You never knew your part. 
 
 But now that lovers are no more, 
 Tis learnt by heart. 
 
 XCV 
 ROSA EL LOS. 
 
 WHILE others plead, you bawl and shriek— 
 The purpose we discern ; 
 
 The bribes men give you not to speak 
 Are all the fees you earn. 
 
 > GOA | 
 Merete ea lLONGUE 
 
 My halting verse, go bear for me, 
 
 Unless the task o’erburden thee, 
 
 A word for friend Maternus’ ear, 
 
 (Speak softly lest the world should hear). 
 31 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Tell of a certain man we know 
 
 Who loves sad clothes and makes a show 
 Of Baetic wool and garments grey, 
 
 But holds that red is far too gay ; 
 
 ‘While amethyst will never do 
 
 For men— ’Tis but a woman’s hue,’— 
 Though robes undyed may win his praise, 
 Or neutral tones, or simple greys. 
 
 But though with garish tints he quarrels, 
 Yet what about his lurid morals ? 
 
 “Who is the man ?’ you ask. Somehow 
 The name has slipped from me, just now. 
 
 XCVII 
 THECRRAUD 
 
 You only speak amid a chattering crowd, 
 Yet claim with eloquence to be endowed, 
 A claim that anyone can make, no doubt. 
 Hark, there’s a lull—Now, Naevolus, speak out. 
 
 XCVIII 
 GOUT UNA THESEAND 
 
 HeE’s gouty in the feet, you say, 
 This litigant who will not pay 
 His counsel’s just demand. 
 The crippling poison, I conclude 
 From this close-fisted attitude, 
 Has now attacked his hand. 
 
 ANP AIA DAS 
 THE MISER 
 
 WHEN you had but one thousand you then did appear 
 So profuse that we asked God to give 
 
 You a fortune to spend; and within half a year 
 Four legacies raised it to five. 
 
 But you, as though nothing were left you at all, 
 So miserly now have become 
 That but once in a year your companions you call 
 
 To a dinner with you at your home. 
 32 
 
BOOK ONE 
 
 We are seven good men, each an old trusty friend, 
 But the choicest repast that you offer 
 
 Costs you but a few shillings and on us you spend 
 The most doubtful coins in your coffer. 
 
 What boon shall we beg for you, generous sir ? 
 You've got five, so we’ll ask God for fifty. 
 And if in reply He should fifty confer, 
 You will soon starve to death, Master Thrifty. 
 
 C 
 TO AFRA 
 
 ‘Papa,’ ‘ Mamma,’ in childish wise, 
 How prettily you call! 
 
 Yet you appear to others’ eyes 
 The grandmamma of all. 
 
 Cr 
 MOUeTIS DEAD SECKETARY 
 
 Tuy hand has shared my labours many a time, 
 Demetrius, and courts have known thy skill ; 
 Ah, for the youth that faded in its prime, 
 The hand that ere thy twentieth year lay still ! 
 I saw thee parched by fever’s fiery breath, 
 And could not brook that thou shouldst die a slave ; 
 I gave thee freedom’s right before thy death— 
 Would that my boon had freed thee from the grave ! 
 ‘Patron’ you sighed and owned the gift from me, 
 Then fared to Lethe’s waters, glad and free. 
 
 CII 
 VENUS AND MINERVA 
 
 By giving Venus such an ugly face 
 Your artist thought to win Minerva’s grace. 
 
 33 C 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 CIII 
 TO SCAEVOLA 
 
 ‘ WOULD heaven I were a millionaire,’ you cried, 
 Ere yet for knighthood you were qualified ; 
 
 ‘Well would I lodge and sumptuously fare.’ 
 
 Then gaily laughed the Gods and heard your prayer. 
 Yet is your raiment shabbier than before, 
 
 Your shoes more patched and clouted than of yore, 
 Ten wretched olives serve you for a feast, 
 
 And out of these you save the half at least, 
 
 Two meals from every dish you try to squeeze, 
 And drink Veientan to its muddy lees, 
 
 Two pence a day is all that you expend, 
 
 One on cold pulse, one on your lady friend. 
 
 Live decently henceforth, you cheating knave, 
 
 Or else return to heaven the wealth it gave. 
 
 CIV 
 THE HARE AND THE CIOWNS 
 
 THE spotted pard, although the yoke be slight, 
 Doth bow his neck thereto ; the tiger’s might, 
 For all his rage, is by a rod controlled, 
 
 And the wild ass doth champ a curb of gold ; 
 The Libyan bear is guided by a bit, 
 
 And monster bisons to the rein submit ; 
 
 A purple halter guides a mighty boar 
 
 Vast as the brute in Calydon of yore ; 
 
 Obedient to a swarthy master’s will 
 
 Leviathan displays a dancer’s skill ! 
 
 Who would not deem a miracle was here ? 
 
 Yet doth a marvel greater still appear. 
 
 See how the lordly lions condescend 
 
 On swift but timid hares their might to spend ; 
 They catch, set free, and gambol with the prey 
 That safe within their gaping maw doth play. ° 
 Freely the quarry passes to and fro 
 
 Through fangs that seem to dread the puny foe ; 
 In sooth ‘tis generous shame that doth restrain 
 The might that late a lordly bull hath slain. 
 Could human art have taught them pity? Nay, 
 Tis Caesar’s law of mercy these obey. 
 
 34 
 
BOOK ONE 
 
 CV 
 OLD WINE 
 
 THouGH from Nomentan soil the vintage came, 
 Yet, as the years rolled on, by slow degrees 
 
 With age it changed its character and name ; 
 So old a cask bears any name it please. 
 
 CVI 
 THE SOBER LOVER 
 
 You drown with water every cup 
 And, though your comrades press you, 
 The feeble draught you hardly sup ! 
 What madness can possess you ? 
 
 Had Naevia sworn to crown your bliss 
 To-night, we had excused you ; 
 
 But since you groan and sigh, by this 
 We know she has refused you. 
 
 Then quaff a cup of fourfold size 
 And others let us pour you ; 
 
 To drown your sorrow must be wise, 
 If only sleep’s before you. 
 
 CVIT 
 POSLUCTOSMLULIUS 
 
 ‘ Your trifling all is vain, 
 Sing me a nobler strain ! ’ 
 Thus you implore me ; 
 Then grant the ease I crave, 
 Such as Maecenas gave 
 To bards before me. 
 
 So shall I weave a song 
 
 That through the ages long 
 May never perish ; 
 
 Nay, for the funeral flame 
 
 Cannot consume a fame 
 That all men cherish. 
 
 35 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Dully the oxen toil 
 
 On harsh and barren soil 
 That yields no treasure. 
 
 But fat and fruitful earth 
 
 Turns weariness to mirth 
 And toil to pleasure. 
 
 CVIII 
 TO GALLUS 
 
 FAIR is your stately house across the river, 
 Long be it yours to flourish all your days. 
 But now with years my feeble footsteps quiver, 
 
 And far my garret by Agrippa’s bays. 
 
 If in the early morn I come to greet you, 
 A long and weary journey I must take, 
 Fain would I travel further yet to meet you 
 And count the toil as naught for friendship’s sake. 
 
 One client less can give you little sorrow, 
 ’Tis much to me if I withhold your due; 
 And so I send my book to say good-morrow, 
 
 Ere at a later hour I come to you. 
 
 wit D4 
 ON PAP Ag CE ae 
 
 CATULLUS of a sparrow sung : 
 But Issa’s neater. 
 
 A kiss is sweet from ringdove’s tongue : 
 But Issa’s sweeter. 
 
 She’s nicer than the nicest girl, 
 
 She’s dearer than the dearest pearl ; 
 No pet can beat her. 
 
 Whene’er she whines, you’d think that she 
 Was talking sadly. 
 Sometimes she cries, sometimes in glee 
 She barks out gladly. 
 And when she needs herself to ease, 
 She lifts her paw and says—' Sir, please, 
 I want to badly.’ 
 
 36 
 
BOOK ONE 
 
 If she is sleeping on your bed 
 You do not hear her ; 
 
 Nor will she soil the blanket spread, 
 You need not fear her. 
 
 So modest is she, we can’t find 
 
 A suitor of the canine kind 
 To let come near her. 
 
 Lest death should take her from our eyes, 
 A picture giving 
 
 Her very self in shape and size 
 Portrays her striving. 
 
 Put dog and picture both together ; 
 
 You'll wonder which is paint, or whether 
 They both are living. 
 
 CX 
 PO SVELOX 
 
 ‘ SucH lengthy epigrams,’ you say, ‘ affright one.’ 
 True, yours are shorter, for you never write one. 
 
 CXI 
 TO (REGULUS 
 
 Your work is worthy of a wit 
 
 That earned a scholar’s reputation, 
 The pious care you spend on it 
 
 Is equal to your inspiration, 
 And any man who marvels why 
 
 Incense and books to you are proffered, 
 Knows not a gift should typify 
 
 His qualities to whom 'tis offered. 
 
 CXII 
 THE UNGRACIOUS PATRON 
 
 I USED to say ‘ My Lord’ and ‘ Sir,’ 
 Ere yet your worthlessness I knew ; 
 
 Now I have learned your character, 
 Plain ‘ Priscus ’ is enough for you. 
 
 37 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 CXIIT 
 THE ENTERPRISING PUBLISHER 
 
 READ, if you have good hours to waste 
 And leisure moments cloy, 
 The triflings of my callow taste 
 While yet I was a boy. 
 Though long I have forgotten it, 
 The nonsense you can buy ; 
 For Pollius will not permit 
 Its feebleness to die. 
 
 CXIV 
 LOCA STUNG 
 
 FAENIUS doth own the meadows there 
 Beside the watered plain, 
 The little plot and garden fair 
 That border your domain, 
 And here his daughter’s ashes lie 
 Beneath a hallowed stone, 
 Her name thereon: Ah, fain were he 
 That there were writ his own. 
 *Twere juster if an aged sire 
 Had crossed the Stygian wave. 
 Since fate denied him his desire, 
 He lives to tend her grave. 
 
 CXV 
 TOVPROGITIAT ss 
 
 THERE’S a maid who pines for me, 
 (Doth your envy stir ?) 
 
 Fairer than a swan is she, 
 Naught can rival her. 
 
 Silver, lilies, privet, snow, 
 All must yield their pride. 
 (Now your jealous thoughts, I know, 
 Tend to suicide.) 
 38 
 
BOOK ONE 
 
 She by whom my heart is swayed 
 (Still your angry fright :) 
 
 Is a black but comely maid 
 Darker than the night. 
 
 Ant or cricket, pitch, or crow, 
 These are not so black ; 
 
 You'll consent to live, I know. 
 Put that halter back ! 
 
 CXVI 
 
 ANIULLA’S GRAVE 
 
 By Faenius the grove and garden-plot 
 Are dedicated ; 
 
 In honour of the dead this hallowed spot 
 Is consecrated. 
 
 For here Antulla lies, too early slain, 
 Here sire and mother 
 
 Will share her grave, united once again 
 Each to the other. 
 
 _ Hast thou a hope this holy soil to own ? 
 Thou must forswear it; 
 
 ’Tis given for ever to the dead alone, 
 None else may share it. 
 
 CXVII 
 
 BROPEUPERCUS 
 
 WHENE’ER we meet you always say 
 “When may I send a servant, pray, 
 
 To fetch your book? I'll read it through 
 And straightway send it back to you.’ 
 Nay, trouble not your servant, friend, 
 
 To Pear-tree Court is far to send, 
 
 And one must climb an awkward stair 
 
 To reach my third-floor garret there. 
 
 No need is there so far to roam, 
 
 You'll find the book much nearer home. 
 You know the place where Argus died ? 
 You often pass it—close beside 
 
 Is Caesar’s forum, and a stall 
 
 By columns marked, on which they scrawl 
 The names and works of bards, to tell 
 
 A passer-by what books they sell. 
 
 39 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Here seek my works. You need not stop 
 To tell the owner of the shop— 
 
 By name Atrectus—what you seek ; 
 
 He’ll find you Martial ere you speak ; 
 
 His top or second pigeon-hole 
 
 Is sure to hold a handsome scroll, 
 
 Well smoothed and decked with purple dye. 
 It costs but half a crown to buy. 
 
 ‘So much,’ you say, ‘ for such a thing ? ’ 
 You've wise, ’tis not worth borrowing. 
 
 * CXVITI 
 LTO -CAECILIANUS 
 
 IF five score epigrams are not enow, 
 A reader must be boredom proof, I trow. 
 
 40 
 

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
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BOOK TWO 
 PREFACE 
 
 VALERIUS MARTIALIS to lis friend DECIANUS 
 GREETING 
 
 “What 1s the good of a prologue,’ you say. ‘Is tt not conces- 
 sion enough to you if I read the epigrams ? And, besides, what 
 do you mean to express in the said prologue that you could not 
 express in the verses? I see why tragedies and comedies are 
 allowed one, because they cannot speak for themselves, but 
 epigrams need no herald and are content with their own power of 
 speech—and a huriful one it 1s too ; they can do their prologising 
 on any page they will. I beseech you, if you think fit to listen, 
 not to do an absurd thing, nor dress a dancer in the long robe. 
 Furthermore consider whether a wooden sword satisfies you as a 
 weapon against a fighter armed with a net. I, for my part, 
 take my place with those spectators who protest against any such 
 unfair conditions.’ I verily believe, Decianus, that you are 
 right! Ah, if you only knew with what sort of prologue, and 
 how long a one, you nearly had to deal! Bet then as you desire, 
 and anyone who may chance to read this book shall owe it to you 
 that he comes unwearied to page one. 
 

 
BOOK TWO 
 I 
 PREFACE 
 
 You might have borne three hundred pieces? True. 
 But, if you had, could any bear with you ? 
 
 Why, little book, of brevity complain ? 
 
 It saves a waste of paper: that’s a gain ; 
 
 The scribe needs but a single hour, and then 
 
 To weightier books may turn his busy pen : 
 
 A reader too more easily may brook 
 
 The flaws and blunders of a tiny book ; 
 
 For at a banquet he could read you through, 
 
 Ere the mulled wine should cool, so short are you. 
 Yet though by brevity success you court, 
 
 Many will find you long, however short. 
 
 7, 
 LTO THE EMPEROR DOMITIAN 
 
 CRETE gave the mighty name Metellus bore, 
 
 Scipio a mightier gained on Afric shore, 
 
 But yet more grand the name from conquered Rhine 
 That, when a child, Germania made thine. 
 
 Thy sire and brother won the Jewish crown : 
 
 The wreath the Chatti send is all thine own. 
 
 Il 
 OS EX, 
 
 You disappoint no creditor, you say ? 
 True, no one ever thought that you would pay. 
 
 bY 
 TO AMMIANUS 
 
 You fondle your mother and she fondles you: 
 
 You're her ‘ brother ’ and she is your ‘ sister.’ 
 
 Why those mischievous names, I should much like to know ° 
 Why are you not her son when you've kissed her ? 
 
 45 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 If you think that such conduct is merely a jest, 
 You’re mistaken, my innocent ‘ brother.’ 
 
 When a mother as ‘ sister ’ would fain be addressed, 
 She is neither the one nor the other. 
 
 Vv 
 
 TO DECIANUS 
 
 To pass my days and nights with you, 
 
 That were my lot if I might choose it. 
 I pledge my life this word is true— 
 
 Alas, that fortune should refuse it. 
 I dwell two weary miles away, 
 
 The homeward road my toil will double, 
 And all the while I know I may 
 
 Have but the journey for my trouble. 
 For when I come, you are not there, 
 
 At least I may not come anigh you ; 
 Or I am told that public care 
 
 Or private matters occupy you. 
 I would not grudge two miles and more 
 
 To greet my friend and sit beside him : 
 *Tis weary work to travel four 
 
 And, after all, to be denied him. 
 
 VI 
 
 TOMSE VERS 
 
 ‘ PUBLISH soon,’ you used to say, 
 And pretend 
 
 That you could not bear delay, 
 Eager friend ; 
 
 Now your taste can hardly brook 
 
 Just two pages of my book, 
 
 Ere you yawn, and turn to look 
 At the end. 
 
 Yet its verses are not new 
 
 And unknown, 
 All the duller ones to you 
 
 I had shown ; 
 Then how carefully you'd note them, 
 In your pocket-book you wrote them, 
 With intent, perhaps, to quote them 
 As your own. 
 
 46 
 
BOOK TWO 
 
 Aye, at parties then you passed 
 Them about ; 
 On the interest you cast 
 Little doubt. 
 Now the book—no lengthy screed— 
 Takes you half a week to read, 
 Such enjoyment is indeed 
 Long drawn out. 
 
 As a lazy traveller lags 
 On his way ; | 
 Short the journey, yet he flags ; 
 So you stay 
 For an hour or two to bait, 
 When you've barely passed the gate ; 
 Yet ‘twas you that would not wait 
 Or delay ! 
 
 VII 
 ISOD FAI ECR ES 
 
 YOU’RE a moderate reciter, you’ve a pretty knack of pleading, 
 
 You're a pretty story-writer, and your verse is pretty reading, 
 
 You've a pretty style in dancing, and your voice is rather 
 pretty, 
 
 If your plays are not entrancing they are moderately witty, 
 
 Then your satire’s rather comic, and of letters you’ve a 
 smattering, 
 
 While on questions astronomic you’ve a pretty trick of 
 chattering, 
 
 Your music’s commonplace with no unusual ability, 
 
 At games you show some grace with no remarkable agility. 
 
 Tho’ you’re moderate at all, you’ve mastered not a thing of 
 them ; 
 
 So a sciolist I call you—and the very prince and king of them. 
 
 VIll 
 EO. PAR READER 
 
 Goop reader, do not blame the bard 
 For phrases too obscure or hard, 
 
 Or if the grammar seem to halt ; 
 Believe me that’s the scrivener’s fault. 
 
 47 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 He knew your eagerness to read 
 And sacrificed too much to speed. 
 If me you blame instead of him, 
 Your intellect must need be dim : 
 You call me but a feeble poet ? 
 I’m not so dull as not to know tt ; 
 My verse is poor, that I admit, 
 But doubt if you can better it. 
 
 IX 
 A COY MAIDEN 
 
 SHE did not answer when I wrote, 
 Refusal must be meant ; 
 
 And yet I know she read the note— 
 And silence gives consent. 
 
 x 
 
 TOF POSTUMUS 
 
 YOu give me only half a kiss ; 
 All thanks for that ; but pray 
 Grant me a further boon; ’tis this— 
 Take half that half away. 
 Yet higher should the favour be— 
 Mere speech its worth profanes— 
 If you would not inflict on me 
 The quarter that remains. 
 
 XI 
 
 TOURGUS 
 
 WITH clouded brow and weary gait, 
 Unheeding though the hour be late, 
 Doth Selius tramp the portico, 
 
 His weary head bowed down with woe ; 
 For grief that scarce can be suppressed 
 He tears his hair and beats his breast. 
 
 48 
 
BOOK TWO 
 
 Deem not this sorrow doth portend. 
 
 The loss of brother or of friend ; 
 
 His wife and sons—long life be theirs— 
 Are prosperous ; in his affairs 
 
 Bailiff and slaves are diligent, 
 
 No tenant cheats him of his rent. 
 
 ‘ Then what can cause his grief,’ you say— 
 He has to dine at home to-day. 
 
 Sow lt 
 Pie Os CE US 
 
 WHAT means it, I wonder, the odour of scent 
 That’s on your lips always, of cinnamon blent. 
 It’s suspicious this perfume whenever we meet : 
 For men always scented don’t really smell sweet. 
 
 SALE 
 IMCD VOM ORS 
 
 BotH the judge and the counsel say you're in their debt : 
 You had best pay the one where most credit you'll get. 
 
 XIV 
 THE DINER-OUT 
 
 THERE’S nothing Selius will not do or dare 
 
 Rather than sup at home on meagre fare ; 
 
 He haunts the running-ground and swears ’tis true 
 That swift Achilles never ran like you, 
 
 Paulinus ; failing him he next may go 
 
 And take his chance at Jason’s portico. 
 
 That too is blank, so off to Isis’ shrine— 
 
 Some courtesan may take him home to dine. 
 Failure once more! Well, Pompey’s porch may do, 
 Or, should that fail, perhaps his avenue : 
 
 He hurries next to Faustus’ baths and then 
 
 To Lupus’ and to Gryllus’ murky den. 
 
 Still no success! He bathes three times and more— 
 Heaven sends no better fortune than before. 
 
 49 D 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 So back he goes to spy if anyone 
 
 Perchance is basking in the evening sun 
 
 About Europa’s porch and leafy bower— 
 There’s just a chance of one tho’ late the hour. 
 O amorous bull, pray pity Selius’ plight, 
 
 And make him dine with you in heaven to-night. 
 
 Se, 
 TO HORMUS 
 
 FROM your cup no one ever to drink you allow: 
 But it really is kindness not pride that you show. 
 
 XVI 
 
 THE REMEDY 
 
 Now Zoilus is ill, ’tis said; 
 But rumour’s a deceiver. 
 
 ‘Tis only that his scarlet bed 
 Has given him scarlet fever. 
 
 He longed to make a fool’s display 
 (Good health alone prevented) 
 
 Of downy cushions, hangings gay 
 With Tyrian dyes and scented. 
 
 Not Aesculapius’ art divine 
 Is needed, I assure him; 
 
 If he would change his bed for mine 
 I know that it would cure him. 
 
 XVII 
 
 THE LADY BARBER 
 
 A LADY barber there doth dwell 
 
 Just where Suburra’s vale emerges 
 
 To join the place where Argus fell, 
 
 Where hang the lictors’ bloody scourges. 
 She sits among the cobblers’ booths 
 
 That take up half the street or block it ; 
 No chin this barber ever smooths ! 
 
 What is it that she trims ?>—Your pocket. 
 
 50 
 
BOOK 
 
 XVIII 
 BWOSOE. A TRADE 
 
 I coURT your dinners, truth to tell; 
 *Tis mean as I’m aware ; 
 
 But you're a parasite as well— 
 And so we are a pair. 
 
 I come to call, and hear that you 
 Have gone to call elsewhere ; 
 You cringe before a patron too— 
 
 And so we are a pair. 
 
 In town I join your escort’s van 
 And walk before you there ; 
 
 But you escort some other man— 
 And so we are a pair. 
 
 If serve I must, a master free 
 Shall be the boon I crave; 
 Though ill that fate, tis worse to be 
 The servant of a slave. 
 
 XIX 
 UNS ZOLLUS 
 
 To think that I would fawn on you 
 For dinner—such a dinner too 
 
 As yours, ah, what a fate ! 
 He that could face your daintiest fare, 
 Good Zoilus, had better share 
 
 With Lazarus at the gate. 
 
 so OE 
 
 THE PURCHASED MUSE 
 
 PAUL reads as his own all the poems he buys. 
 Well, all that he pays for is his, I surmise. 
 
 51 
 
 TWO 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 XXI 
 TO POSTUMUS 
 
 SOME you embrace. Some by the hand you shake ; 
 Which would I choose? Your hand, for mercy’s sake. 
 
 AXIT 
 
 ON THE SAME 
 
 Ou, Phoebus and ye sisters nine, 
 
 Why plague your bard ? What sin is mine? 
 What have I done amiss 
 
 That Postumus, who distantly 
 
 Has heretofore saluted me, 
 Now greets me with a kiss ? 
 
 XXIIT 
 
 ON THE SAME 
 
 I WILL not give his name, although you press me, 
 Let ‘ Postumus ’ suffice you in my verse. 
 
 He’s well avenged when e’er he doth caress me ; 
 Dare I provoke and make his vengeance worse ? 
 
 XXIV 
 A DIALOGUE 
 
 Candidus : If law your innocence abuse, 
 I’ll don the gown defendants use, 
 And paler far my cheek shall be 
 Than though the danger threatened me ; 
 If driven from our Motherland 
 With you I’ll seek an alien strand, 
 For shoals and rocks are naught to dare 
 With you an exile’s lot to share. 
 Martial: Well, fate has granted wealth to you. 
 Candidus: ’I'was meant for one and not for two, 
 
 52 
 
BOOK TWO 
 
 Martial: But would you give the half of it ? 
 Candidus : That’s much to ask you must admit. 
 Martial: Will you give anything to me ? 
 What? Yourefuse? It’s plain to see 
 What ‘ sharing ’ means ; your generous mood 
 Gives me the ill and keeps the good. 
 
 XXV 
 LOSGALEA 
 
 You always promise happiness 
 And still your faith betray ; 
 
 If “ yes’ means ‘no’ and ‘no’ means ‘ yes,’ 
 Say ‘no’ to me I pray. 
 
 XXVI 
 WU! Diy NICUS 
 
 THOUGH you hope that her cough will soon carry her off, 
 For gasping and swooning is she, 
 
 Do not flatter yourself that you'll finger her pelf ; 
 For her faint is a feint with an ‘e.’ 
 
 XXVIT 
 
 CUPBOARD LOVE 
 
 WHENE'ER you plead in court or read your verses, 
 Watch Selius fishing for an invitation. 
 With wild applause your words he intersperses, 
 “ Perfect,’ ‘ Hear, hear,’ ‘ Tis said to admiration,’ 
 ‘ Bravo,’ ‘ How grand the style!’ ‘ How good the matter ! ’— 
 Then you invite him, just to stop his chatter. 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 RIDETO multum qui te, Sextille, cinaedum 
 Dixerit et digitum porrigito medium. 
 
 Sed nec pedico es nec tu, Sextille, fututor, 
 Calda Vetustinae nec tibi bucca placet. 
 
 Ex istis nihil es fateor, Sextille : quid ergo es ° 
 Nescio, sed tu scis res superesse duas. 
 
 53 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 XXIX 
 
 LOO EUS 
 
 ON a front bench to let the world admire 
 He sits ; his jewelled fingers flash and glow, 
 Deeply his cloak has drunk the dyes of Tyre, 
 His robe is whiter than the virgin snow. 
 
 His locks diffuse their perfume all around, 
 White are his glittering arms without an hair, 
 New sandals daily on his feet are bound, 
 And softest hide is all that he can bear. 
 
 The crescent on his scarlet boot is seen, 
 His patch-bespangled brow bears many a Star ; 
 Dost know the creature ? Strip his forehead clean, 
 The brands thereon tell what his titles are. 
 
 XXX 
 
 LOSGALES 
 
 I CHANCED to ask a loan—a hundred merely ; 
 E’en as a gift that should not task severely 
 
 A wealthy friend, and so I asked him, knowing 
 His pockets bulge with cash to overflowing. 
 
 “Go to the Bar,’ says he, ‘ get rich by pleading “— 
 Tis cash, not counsel, Gaius, that I’m needing. 
 
 2 6.4 | 
 
 THE PARAGON 
 
 I KNOW Jenny well: she’s a right proper lass : 
 Not a girl in the town can her kisses surpass. 
 
 XXXII 
 
 OS Aen 
 
 You would not plead my cause with Balbus, lest 
 You might offend and lose his interest : 
 
 Against Licinus next I brought a suit ; 
 
 You thought him far too great to prosecute : 
 
 34 
 
BOOK TWO 
 
 Though Patrobas should trespass on my field, 
 He’s Nero’s freedman, so you bid me yield : 
 Or if Laronia keep the slaves I lend her, 
 
 A rich old widow, you will not offend her. 
 
 To serve a servant is a lot abhorred ; 
 
 Let him be free who is my overlord. 
 
 AX SIT 
 10 PHILAENIS 
 
 You ask the reasons why I never do 
 Kiss you ? 
 Fair locks I love and you have none, 
 That’s one. 
 Your face is of the beetroot’s hue, 
 That’s two. 
 Your one blear eye can hardly see, 
 That’s three. 
 That act all nature might appal, 
 
 bat s.all) 
 so GAVE 
 TO GALLA 
 
 To buy a young minion you've spent all your gold, 
 And let your three children go hungry and cold, 
 While you force him on you his male vigour to prove, 
 Who are long past the age for legitimate love. 
 
 May you grow old together, and never another 
 Embrace you but he, you unnatural mother. 
 
 ee, OOO 
 
 PORE EORBUS 
 
 As your legs are as curved as the moon’s horns when new, 
 Then your bath should be shaped like a drinking-horn too. 
 
 an 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 XXXVI 
 LOMBAIN ING GH Us 
 
 . I Woutp not have you curl your hair, 
 Though tangled locks I can’t endure ; 
 Trim hands and skin should never bear 
 The patent signs of manicure. 
 
 Ape not the beardless Eastern style, 
 The culprit’s sloven chin abhor ! 
 
 To pose as less than man is vile, 
 "Tis barbarous to pose as more. 
 
 Though manhood’s outward looks you wear 
 In hirsute limb and bearded face, 
 
 Your mind the while is plucked and bare, 
 Of manly growth there’s not a trace. 
 
 XXXVIT 
 TO  CAECILTAN GS 
 
 SCARCE was the dinner served, ere you 
 Had swept away our every dish ; 
 Sow’s udder, woodcock meant for two, 
 Pig’s ear, the choicest kinds of fish, 
 The lamprey and the chicken’s thigh, 
 The pigeon stewed in sauces rare— 
 And we, the hungry company, 
 Had nothing left to do but stare ! 
 That bulging cloth, a dripping pack, 
 Your slave bore off. Pretend or feel 
 Some shame, and put our dinner back ; 
 *Twas not for your to-morrow’s meal. 
 
 XXXVIII 
 TO LINUS 
 
 You ask me how my farm can pay, 
 Since little it will bear ; 
 
 It pays me thus.—’Tis far away 
 And you are never there. 
 
 56 
 
BOOK TWO 
 XXXIX 
 
 FINE FEATHERS 
 
 You took a woman off the street, 
 You gave her dresses rich and rare, 
 And yet the penitential sheet 
 She might with greater fitness wear. 
 
 XL 
 
 ON TONGILIUS 
 
 AGUE they say! I know what his complaint is, 
 A case of greed suppressed and thirst unsated : 
 
 Exhibit thrushes fat and other dainties ; 
 
 Red mullets too and pike are indicated ; 
 
 With fine old port his thirst should be abated, 
 
 And rare liqueurs stored in their slender bottles— 
 The faculty have all miscalculated 
 
 Hydropathy won’t cure such fevered throttles. 
 
 ET 
 
 TO MAXIMINA 
 
 “LAUGH, maiden, laugh, if thou be wise,’-— 
 
 Aye, that methinks was Ovid's rede ; 
 And yet not all doth he advise ; 
 
 But if he spake to all indeed 
 
 The poet’s saw thou can’st not plead 
 Who long are past thy maidenhood, 
 
 And hast, for teeth to serve thy need, 
 Three stumps the hue of pitch or wood. 
 
 So if thou trust thy glass and me, 
 Put thoughts of laughter out of mind ; 
 The merry mood is not for thee, 
 Nor for the fops a blustering wind. 
 These shun the jostling of their kind, 
 The beldame with her powdered grace 
 Fears rain and is not glad to find 
 Bright sunshine on her painted face. 
 
 57 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Wear looks austere, like Priam’s Queen 
 Or such as Hector’s consort wore, 
 And lest a smile should e’er be seen, 
 No plays or feasts for evermore ! 
 All merriment must thou abhor 
 With aught that might provoke to it ; 
 The depths of grief must thou explore, 
 Away with quips and roguish wit, 
 
 And rather haunt some house of woe 
 Where mourning widows sigh and moan, 
 If mother’s tears or sister’s flow 
 Take thou their sorrows for thine own ; 
 Be thine the Tragic muse alone, 
 And thus a wiser maxim keep— 
 Herein is crafty counsel shown— 
 “If thou be wise, weep, lady, weep.’ 
 
 ge SEAM 
 LO ZOLLGS 
 
 THE bath-water’s fouled when your buttocks you swill. 
 Just put in your head ; ’twill be dirtier still. 
 
 hop LIT 
 TO CANDIDUS 
 
 THE proverb goes—‘ Let friends together profit.’ 
 And this is your interpretation of it. 
 
 You sport a toga of Tarentine wool, 
 
 Such tufts as from the Parman flocks they pull : 
 Mine is so old you'd think a bull had torn it, 
 
 Or that some scarecrow in the ring had worn it. 
 Your Tyrian mantle’s one of Cadmus own : 
 
 My poor red cloak would scarce fetch half-a-crown. 
 Your marble rounds on Indian ivory rest : 
 
 My table’s wood and is on drain-pipes pressed. 
 
 For you huge mullets lie in golden dish : 
 
 I from red earthen plates eat red crawfish. 
 
 A troop of pages serve your every need : 
 
 I help myself and have no Ganymede. 
 
 ‘Profit ’ for you: for your poor friend ‘ starvation.’ 
 That of the proverb’s your interpretation. 
 
 58 
 
BOOK TWO 
 
 XLIV 
 
 ON HUNKS 
 
 Ir Hunks should see me buy a coat, 
 A slave, or something worth a groat, 
 He shudders at my spendthrift whim, 
 And lest I beg a loan of him— 
 Though I have known him many a year— 
 He whispers so that I'may hear :—- 
 ‘Four thousand Sesterces are due 
 
 To Phoebus, and Secundus too 
 
 Is pressing for his debt, ’tis seven ; 
 Philetus duns me for eleven : 
 
 I’ve not a farthing left to spend.’ 
 How clever, my ingenious friend ! 
 Were I to ask, refusing me 
 
 Would wound your generosity ; 
 
 It needs must be a harder task 
 Refusing what I do not ask. 
 
 op 8 A 
 Oe rarer LEU) S 
 
 WHEN your duty you never could do to your wife, 
 Why offer yourself to the surgeon’s sharp knife ° 
 
 SX VE 
 TO NAEVOLUS 
 
 Gay as the flowers that Hybla shows in spring, 
 What time the bees are plundering on the wing, 
 So shine your presses with their mantles bright, 
 So gleams your chest with evening wrappers white, 
 Spoils of her flocks Apulia sent to you, 
 
 Enough to clothe a Roman tribe anew. 
 
 And yet—O shame—you look with careless eye 
 Upon your friend who passes shivering by 
 
 In threadbare coat, and do not think to give 
 
 A rag or two to keep him just alive. 
 
 You would not feel the loss, you need not fear : 
 The moths alone would be the sufferers here. 
 
 09 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 XLVII 
 
 SUBDOLA famosae moneo fuge retia moechae, 
 Leuior o conchis, Galle, Cytheriacis. 
 
 Confidis natibus ? Non est pedico maritus : 
 Quae faciat duo sunt : irrumat aut futuit. 
 
 AXLVIII 
 THE BORIS INE RDS 
 
 RuFus, my simple tastes demand 
 But modest things to smooth my path, 
 Good wine and food, a barber and 
 A bath, 
 Chessmen, a board on which to play, 
 A friend whose tastes and mine agree, 
 Some books but leaving the choosing pray 
 onue: 
 
 A young and well-grown serving lad, 
 One maid if comely would not hurt, 
 ’Twould keep him busy if he had 
 A flirt. 
 Ah, friend, if you would give me these, 
 Though in a small provincial home, 
 I’d leave you all the luxuries 
 Of Rome. 
 
 BOOP S 
 ATTRACTION 
 
 “I won’t marry Betty : she’s too fond of men,’ 
 “Well, boys find her charming.’ ‘ I’ll marry her then. 
 
 bf 
 
 jk: 
 
 Quop fellas et aquam potas, nil, Lesbia, peccas. 
 Qua tibi parte opus est, Lesbia, sumis aquam. 
 60 
 
BOOK TWO 
 LI 
 
 VNUS saepe tibi tota denarius arca 
 Cum sit et hic culo tritior, Hylle, tuo, 
 
 Non tamen hunc pistor, non auferet hunc tibi copo, 
 Sed si quis nimio pene superbus erit. 
 
 Infelix uenter spectat conuiuia culi 
 Et semper miser hic esurit, ille uorat. 
 
 Lil 
 
 THREE IN ONE 
 
 O BATHING man, [ like your plan 
 Of counting, for I heard 
 
 Stout Spatale was charged as three, 
 And paid without a word. 
 
 LItl 
 
 TO MAXIMUS 
 
 You would be free, but cannot ? that’s a lie; 
 Tis easy, there’s a simple plan to try. 
 
 Cease hunting for choice dinners everywhere, 
 And be content to drink vin ordinaire ; 
 
 Let gold inlay on Cinna’s table shine, 
 
 Nor envy him ; and wear a coat like mine, 
 Waste not your substance on a courtesan ; 
 Lodge simply—’tis enough for any man. 
 
 Rule thus your mind to love but simple things 
 And you'll be freer than the Parthian Kings. 
 
 * LV 
 
 LORLINES 
 
 Your wife is not lacking in prudence or spite, 
 And that she has shown very plain ; 
 She has bidden an eunuch to watch you at night, 
 And thinks then you chaste will remain. 
 61 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 | BAY 
 TOUS EA TUS 
 
 I OFFERED love—you ask for awe ; 
 Then I'll obey you and revere ; 
 
 But don’t forget the ancient saw 
 That love will never dwell with fear. 
 
 EMA 
 TO GALLUS 
 
 THOsE Libyan rogues accuse your wife of greed, 
 And call her avaricious ; yes, indeed ! 
 
 But such a charge of rankest falsehood savours ; 
 She rather is too generous with her favours. 
 
 Vil 
 
 THE DANDY 
 
 Just watch the fellow yonder stroll along ! 
 The costliest of clothes he loves to wear, 
 And after him there comes a motley throng 
 Of clients spruce and slaves with curly hair. 
 His chair is gay and decked with curtains fair; 
 Say you the smartest dandy in the town ? 
 Just now to buy a meal of plainest fare 
 He pawned his only ring for half-a-crown. 
 
 LVI 
 POUZOLUS 
 
 YoOuR glossy clothes are superfine, 
 You mock my old ones and abhor them ; 
 At least, if threadbare, they’re mine own, 
 I didn’t cheat the tailor for them. 
 62 
 
BOOK TWO 
 EtxX 
 THE BANQUETING-HALL 
 
 You know my name, ‘ The little feasting hall’ ? 
 Take roses, unguents, wine, and feast withal ; 
 But gaze with me at Caesar’s dome which saith, 
 “A God was I—and died! Forget not death.’ 
 
 ED 6 
 IMO? fa VETS 
 
 My lad, it’s a captain’s good lady you’re meeting, 
 
 Though you think if you’re caught you'll get off with a beating. 
 He’s a sword and he'll use it. ‘ Not legal ’—you say. 
 
 Well, are they quite legal, your goings-on, pray ? 
 
 teal 
 
 Cum tibi uernarent dubia lanugine malae, 
 Lambebat medios improba lingua viros. 
 
 Postquam triste caput fastidia uispillonum 
 Et miseri meruit taedia carnificis, 
 
 Uteris ore aliter nimiaque aerugine captus 
 Adlatras nomen quod tibi cumque datur. 
 Haereat inguinibus potius tam noxia lingua : 
 
 Nam cum fellaret, purior illa fuit. 
 
 LXII 
 
 Quop pectus, quod crura tibi, quod bracchia uellis, 
 Quod cincta est breuibus mentula tonsa pilis, 
 
 Hoc praestas, Labiene, tuae (quis nescit ?) amicae. 
 Cui praestas, culum quod, Labiene, pilas ? 
 
 Patil 
 
 LO MILICHUS 
 
 Your capital was always small, 
 Yet in the mart you gave 
 
 The thousand pounds that made your all 
 To buy a pretty slave. 
 
 63 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 For love that price was high to pay 
 E’en with a bulging purse. 
 
 What's that ? You're not in love you say— 
 That makes the matter worse. 
 
 LXIV 
 
 PORTA Cis 
 
 ONCE at the Bar a longing look you cast, 
 Anon ’twas rhetoric you thought inspiring, 
 Now you are Nestor’s age, and nearly past 
 The time when others think about retiring. 
 Begin, if rhetoric attracts you greatly, 
 There’s room for teachers—three have died just lately. 
 
 But should you think you lack the teacher’s skill 
 Or spirit, or are doubtful of succeeding, 
 The courts have seethed with litigants, until 
 The Marsyas himself might turn to pleading. 
 Delay no more—we're growing tired of waiting— 
 Or you are like to die, still hesitating. 
 
 of Pf 
 
 A GRIEVOUS LOSS 
 
 ‘Way does friend Johnson wear that gloomy look ? ’ 
 “Good cause,’ you say, ‘ this very morn I took 
 
 My wife’s corpse to the grave.’ ‘Oh dear, oh dear, 
 Your rich old wife, no more we'll see her here. 
 
 And all her money now is yours to spend ! 
 
 I am indeed distressed, my worthy friend.’ 
 
 ph Be OUT 
 
 TOV LALAGE 
 
 BECAUSE one curl had come unbound 
 I hear you took your glass 
 
 And called your maid, and to the ground 
 Struck down the hapless lass. 
 
 64 
 
BOOK TWO 
 
 Cease, madam, pray, your hair to tire 
 And fill your girls with terror. 
 
 A razor is what you require 
 To make you like your mirror. 
 
 Why should they your caprice obey, 
 And to your fancies pander. 
 
 Cut all those cruel locks away, 
 Or touch a salamander. 
 
 Pale VLE 
 
 TO POSTUMUS 
 
 WHENEVER I meet you, wherever I go, 
 
 Ten times in one hour it is—‘ How do you do?’ 
 
 That ‘ How do you do ? ’ is your first word each day : 
 It is plain that there is not much doing your way. 
 
 psy Le 
 IRS) TOPE EIS 
 
 CALL it not pride, no longer I 
 Can greet you as your thrall. 
 
 I’ve won the cap of liberty, 
 Although it cost mine all. 
 
 The man whose mean desires accord 
 With all that masters crave 
 
 Must cringe ; but he shall need no lord 
 Who doth not need a slave. 
 
 LXIX 
 
 PORCLASSICUS 
 
 ALL dinner invitations grieve you ? 
 I’m sorry, sir, I can’t believe you. 
 The famous epicures of Rome 
 Were always pleased to dine from home. 
 Why, if it bores you, should you go ? 
 “TI must,’ you say—Ah yes, we know 
 All parasites that plea advance. 
 But if you're serious, now’s your chance : 
 Friend Melior bids you dine to-day, 
 So play the man and say him nay. 
 05 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 LXX 
 
 NON uis in solio prius lauari 
 
 OQuemquam, Cotile. Causa quae, nisi haec est, 
 Undis ne fouearis irrumatis ? 
 
 Primus te licet abluas : necesse est 
 
 Ante hic mentula quam caput lauetur. 
 
 LXXI 
 LO GAECILIAN GS 
 
 ONE simple trick I note in you, 
 
 That when I read a verse or two, 
 
 You instantly begin to quote 
 
 Catullus or some bard of note ; 
 
 You mean to compliment my verse 
 Perhaps by citing something worse, 
 
 And though the contrast flatters me 
 
 With its inferiority— 
 
 Assuming this intent alone, 
 
 ‘Twere better you should quote your own. 
 
 oP ALPO.OMI 
 
 TO POSTUM US 
 
 A THING, I am told, happened yesterday night, 
 Which I cannot approve, for I don’t think it right. 
 I’m informed you received such a tempest of knocks 
 As the pantaloon gets when they play Box and Cox. 
 And, what’s more surprising, folk now are repeating 
 "Twas Caecilius gave you that most unkind beating. 
 You declare it’s not true ; and I hope it as well, 
 But the fellow has witnesses, so people tell. 
 
 NLD 08 
 
 Ourp faciat uolt scire Lyris : quod sobria : fellat. 
 
BOOK TWO 
 * LXXIV 
 TO MATERNUS 
 
 BEHIND and before him the clients pace slow 
 Attending Saufeius wherever he go ; 
 
 Such crowds as great Regulus brings from the court 
 When his client’s acquitted and cuts his hair short. 
 Don’t envy him, friend, for his train of dependants : 
 He borrows the money to pay their attendance. 
 
 Abd, OG") 
 
 UVeLoOr CIRCUS 
 
 A LION wont to cower beneath the whip, 
 
 Within whose jaws the trainer oft would slip 
 
 His hand unharmed, forgot its gentle ways 
 
 And showed the fury of its Libyan days. 
 
 Two boys belonging to the youthful band, 
 
 Who with their rakes smooth out the bloody sand, 
 The savage beast with fangs accursed slew— 
 
 A greater crime the circus never knew. 
 
 Well might we cry—‘ Thou cruel thief, forbear. 
 Learn from our Roman wolf young lives to spare.’ 
 
 FTUXXVI 
 Ritmo l Thea el 
 
 Your share of Marius’ estate 
 
 Is just four pounds of battered plate. 
 You thought you’d cornered him : 7’ feg, 
 The boot is on the other leg. 
 
 LXXVII 
 LOX COSCONTUS 
 
 Try greasing wheels ; your taste reveals 
 You might be fit for that ; 
 
 Nay, truth to tell, ’twould suit you well 
 Because your wits are fat. 
 
 67 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 For length you damn my epigram ! 
 Is Brutus’ boy too small ? 
 
 Your critic eyes perhaps despise 
 Colossus as too tall ? 
 
 Tis plain indeed you never read 
 Marsus or Pedo sage ; 
 
 One piece of each will often reach 
 Beyond a single page. 
 
 A word remove and I will prove 
 You do my poem wrong. 
 
 Your couplets are too long by far— 
 That is two lines too long. 
 
 LXXVIII 
 
 TO CAECILIANTS 
 
 Your fish won’t keep in Summer-time ? Why not ? 
 You can’t have tried the baths that you call hot. : 
 
 aul EDO, Be 
 TO NASICA 
 You only asked me when you know 
 I’ve asked another man to dine. 
 And, as to-day I eat at home, 
 Your invitation I decline. 
 RED. €, 6 
 SELF SLAIN 
 WHILE Fannius the foeman fled, 
 He madly pierced his side, 
 And, lest he should be stricken dead, 
 By his own hand he died. 
 * UX AL 
 LOLOL 
 
 THOUGH in a gorgeous litter you may ride, 
 It seems a pauper’s bier when you're inside. 
 68 
 
BOOK TWO 
 LXXXII 
 TO PONTICUS 
 
 Wuy maim your slave by cutting out 
 The wretch’s tongue, you brute, 
 When all the city talks about 
 Your crimes—though he is mute ? 
 
 FeDX XXIII 
 TO A JEALOUS HUSBAND 
 
 You have robbed the young gallant of nostrils and ears, 
 And his face now of both is bereft. 
 
 But your vengeance remains incomplete it appears ; 
 He has still got another part left. 
 
 LXXXIV 
 
 MOLLIs erat facilisque uiris Poeantius heros : 
 Uolnera sic Paridis dicitur ulta Venus. 
 
 Cur lingat cunnum Siculus Sertorius, hoc est : 
 Ab hoc occisus, Rufe, uidetur Eryx. 
 
 PERO. QY 
 A CHRISTMAS GIFT 
 
 A WICKER flask with water iced inside 
 
 I send you as my gift this Christmas-tide. 
 You'll say perhaps it does not suit the season. 
 I want a summer suit: that is the reason. 
 
 LXXXVI 
 LOSOLASSIC US 
 
 TRICK verses I would never plan—that is not my endeavour ; 
 My lines read backwards will not scan on any scheme whatever ; 
 You will not hear in verse of mine that feeble iteration 
 Whereby doth echo tag each line—a Greek abomination. 
 
 69 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 And though no Attis here shall spout smooth doggerel—you 
 know it ? 
 
 Tis sound with all the sense left out—am I so vile a poet ? 
 
 What if one bade a runner try contortions acrobatic ? 
 
 Ask Ladas this, and his reply methinks will be emphatic. 
 
 A silly task it is to make all difficulties double, 
 
 And foolery for fooling’s sake is merely wasted trouble. 
 
 Such tricks let dull Palaemon do, his dullards entertaining, 
 
 And let me please the chosen few whose ear is worth the 
 gaining. 
 
 ot AED DD OA | 
 
 SRO) AI PINE ES 
 
 You pretend for your kisses the girls are athirst, 
 With your cheeks, like a diver’s, just ready to burst. 
 
 sd bP. 45 | 
 
 TO MAMERCUS 
 
 You never recite, though you pose as a poet. 
 Well, for that many thanks: we will gladly forgo it. 
 
 PU. O,..8D,< 
 
 TO GAURUS 
 
 I CAN pardon your habit of spending the night 
 O’er the wine-cup ; for Cato in that did delight. 
 And though with your verses the Muses you sully, 
 I praise them ; for here you take pattern by Tully. 
 When you vomit, you do as Mark Antony did ; 
 And your greed by Apicius’ shadow is hid. 
 
 But when you indulge in your beastliest tricks, 
 
 To find you a model I’m quite in a fix. 
 
 XC 
 
 TO QUINTILIAN 
 
 GUIDE of our wayward youth, whose golden tongue 
 Is Rome’s delight and boast, if I am wrong 
 
 In making haste to live whilst poor and young, 
 Forgive me ; others dally all too long ; 
 
 7O 
 
BOOK TWO 
 
 These gather gold beyond their fathers’ dreams, 
 Ancestral busts their crowded halls might fill— 
 To me my smoke-stained cot more pleasant seems, 
 The earth’s wild verdure and the running rill, 
 
 A comely slave, a kind but simple wife, 
 Nights of soft sleep and days unmarred of strife. 
 
 XCI 
 Beer b EMPEROR TITUS: A PETITION 
 
 Tuou glory of the world, our destinies, 
 Our very faith in heaven, are stayed on thee. 
 Should verse of mine find favour in thine eyes, 
 Though often writ in haste, ‘twill plead for me : 
 Grant me a father’s right ; though fate’s decree 
 Deny me fatherhood, that wrong redress ; 
 If I have failed, may this my comfort be, 
 And this the generous guerdon of success. 
 
 XCII 
 MOE VPETITION ‘GRANTED 
 
 Now with the rights of children three 
 Caesar rewards my Muse and me, 
 And mateless I[’ll remain. 
 The boon that one alone can give 
 By his divine prerogative 
 Must not be made in vain. 
 
 Fan GClil 
 PeiedGUE, LO ‘REGULUS 
 
 “WHERE’S number ONE,’ you say, ‘ if this book’s TWO ° ’ 
 My first is shy, so what am I to do? 
 
 But if in this the First you’d rather see, 
 
 Take one away, and then it ONE will be. 
 

 

 
BOOK THREE 
 I 
 
 AEPREPACE FROM, GAUL 
 
 THIs verse from Gaul is alien born, 
 Whatever be its worth, 
 
 And though the Roman garb adorn 
 The land that gave it birth. 
 
 Should you prefer the former book, 
 Yet I will not repine ; 
 
 Such preference I lightly brook 
 Since both of them are mine. 
 
 "Tis fit indeed that verse from Rome 
 Should be the best of all, { 
 For e’en a house-slave born at home 
 
 Is better than a Gaul. 
 
 II 
 
 HEHE AW ISSEY CHOIGE 
 
 My little book, who shall thy champion be ? 
 
 Choose thee a patron soon, or, I foresee, 
 Snatched to a gloomy kitchen in a trice 
 Thou shalt wrap dripping fish or pungent spice ; 
 
 Thy clammy end the scullion shall decree ; 
 
 Sayst thou that to Faustinus thou wouldst flee ? 
 
 A happy choice—from ills shalt thou be free 
 Safe 1n his cedar-scented paradise, 
 
 My little book, 
 
 For bindings rich no niggard hand hath he, 
 
 But thou shalt dwell a tome of high degree 
 With bosses decked and many a gay device 
 In purple rare or scarlet dyes of price, 
 
 And critics shall not dare to mangle thee, 
 
 My little book. 
 
 Di 
 ite A Ak 
 
 You veil your only charm, a pretty face, 
 
 And show a form that frights the bathing-place. 
 So, bidden by the water-nymphs, I pray, 
 
 Bathe fully dressed or cast your veil away. 
 
 he 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 IV 
 AN APOLOGY FOR ABSENCE 
 
 SEEK Rome, my book, and if she question thee 
 Whence thou art come, say, ‘ Down Aemilian Road,’ 
 And if she ask the place of my abode 
 
 Tell her Cornelius’ Forum harbours me ; 
 
 Confess that here I sojourn to be free 
 From all her pomp and show, a weary load, 
 
 And shall return when I forget to be 
 A bard and sing a jingling lyric ode. 
 
 *V 
 RECOMMENDATIONS 
 
 LITTLE book, starting off to great Rome all alone, 
 
 Would you have me commend you to many or one ? 
 One’s enough, pray believe me ; for he’ll love you well, 
 Dear Julius, of whom you have oft heard me tell. 
 
 He lives by the Closed Colonnade, in the flat 
 
 Which Daphnis some years ago used to live at. 
 
 Though you’re covered with dust when before her you stand 
 His wife will give welcome with heart and with hand. 
 
 If you see them together, or him first, or her, 
 
 Just say—’twill suffice— Marcus’ greetings I bear.’ 
 
 A letter to strangers may strangers commend ; 
 
 There’s no need for long talk when you deal with a friend. 
 
 VI 
 TO MARCELLINUS 
 
 Your budding beard is shorn—the day 
 Hath earned a double rite, 
 
 For on this lucky date in May 
 Your father saw the light. 
 
 On him hath Fortune never frowned— 
 To-day his life began 
 
 In happiness that now is crowned— 
 His son becomes a man. 
 
 76 
 
BOOK THREE 
 
 VII 
 FREE DINNERS 
 
 FAREWELL thou paltry dole, no more 
 The parboiled bath-man at the door 
 Hands out the toil-worn client’s due. 
 Poor starvelings, what a blow to you ! 
 
 The bounty given in Nero’s day 
 
 Is gone! I know that ye will say, 
 “We'll fence no more ; our cry shall be 
 “ Fixed salaries and dinners free!’ ’ 
 
 VIII 
 
 Poetee COUNTRY OF THE) BLIND 
 
 "Tis one-eyed Thais sets his love aglow ; 
 She is half-blind—and he entirely so. 
 
 IX 
 ON CINNA 
 
 HE publishes lampoons on me, ’tis said ; 
 How can he publish who is never read ? 
 
 haat 
 DHE SPENDTHARIFT 
 
 YOUNG Scatterbag’s father while he was alive 
 
 To him one pound per diem did pay ; 
 
 For he knew that a daily supply he must give, 
 
 Or the spendthrift would fling all away. 
 
 But now in his will he has put down his name 
 
 As heir to the total estate— 
 
 *Twere better for him, and would come to the same, 
 To have been disinherited straight. 
 
 7, 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 XI 
 TO QUINTUS 
 
 DEAR Quintus, why resent my joke ? 
 The one-eyed hag of whom I spoke 
 
 Was Thais, and your lady’s name 
 Hermione— tis not the same 
 
 Or similar. Had I said Thais, 
 
 Whereas your lady-love was Lais, 
 
 You might complain of that ; beside 
 You swear your love is not one-eyed ! 
 
 I called her lover ‘ Quintus ’—true : 
 Let’s change to ‘ Sextus ’—will that do ? 
 
 XII 
 LOPE ABOLTS 
 
 WHEN yesterday we came to dine, 
 
 I own you gave us unguents fine, 
 
 But there was not a thing to eat. 
 Methinks a curious sort of treat. 
 
 Perhaps you thought your guests had died 
 And came there to be mummified ! 
 
 XIII 
 TO NAEVIA 
 
 You would not carve the hare: it was not basted, 
 
 So you declared : the mullet went untasted : 
 
 The boar was more than high—our senses proved it— 
 You called it ‘ over-fresh,’ and then removed it. 
 “Uneatable and raw,’ you kept repeating ; 
 
 In proof whereof you gave your cook a beating. 
 
 A vain excuse ; we’re safe beyond all question. 
 
 A meal of nothing gives no indigestion. 
 
 OLN. 
 DHE “CANCELLEDS DORE 
 
 A STARVELING came from Spain of late ; 
 But when he reached the city gate 
 He heard about the dole in Rome, 
 And turned again to starve at home. 
 78 
 
BOOK THREE 
 XV 
 THE TRUSTFUL SWAIN 
 
 None takes such low security 
 
 Though he is poor. My praise is just. 
 For Cordus, tho’ he cannot see, 
 
 Accepts his lady-love on trust. 
 
 XVI 
 
 THE PARVENU 
 
 You give a gladiators’ show, 
 
 Vain cobbler Kinglet, prince of leather, 
 A fortune to your awl you owe, 
 
 The sword destroys it altogether. 
 
 You're drunk, no sober man would skin 
 His pocket in this careless manner. 
 
 If you go on as you begin 
 You soon must be a worthless Tanner. 
 
 I hope your foolish whim is past ; 
 Here’s my advice, if you will take it ; 
 
 Retrench—the chance may be your last, 
 No prudent cobbler should forsake it. 
 
 Syl 
 
 TRANSFORMATION 
 
 A TART passed at table was so very hot 
 
 It burned people’s hands as to each man it got ; 
 But Sam was still hotter to eat it ; and so 
 
 He puffed out his cheeks and upon it did blow. 
 
 The tartlet was cooled, nor could any one hurt ; 
 But nobody touched it ; ‘twas turned into dirt. 
 
 1 DOM AT 
 TO THE POET MAXIMUS 
 
 You began by remarking your throat was quite sore. 
 We accept your excuse: but pray read us no more. 
 
 {2 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 x LS 
 THE BRONZE BEAR 
 
 WHERE beasts in effigy the plane-grove grace, 
 
 Hard by the ‘ Hundred Columns’ has its place 
 _A bear in bronze. Young Hylas in its jaw 
 
 Thrust his fair hand to try the gaping maw. 
 
 But lo, a viper grim was lurking there, 
 
 Alert and far more deadly than the bear. 
 
 The boy knew nothing till he felt the sting. 
 
 Shame that the bear was not a living thing ! 
 
 4 OS 
 Io Ws HUM GSNe SOLE E, 
 
 TELL me, my Muse, what Canius does this morn. 
 Does he record for ages yet unborn 
 
 The deeds of Claudius, or is his theme 
 
 The screeds that foolish scribblers Nero’s deem ? 
 Does he the jests of naughty Phaedrus try, 
 
 Epic severe and wanton elegy, 
 
 And don the buskin of, great Sophocles, 
 
 Or in the ‘ Poet’s Corner ’ loll at ease 
 
 Telling gay stories full of Attic grace, 
 
 Or in the porch of Isis’ temple pace, 
 
 Or idly stroll along the portico, 
 
 Where Jason and his men their pictures show ? 
 Perchance some bathhouse sees him take a dipper, 
 Titus or Tigellinus or Agrippa ; 
 
 Or else he sits and walks quite free from care 
 Amid the box-trees where Europa fair 
 
 Enjoys the sun ; or in some snug retreat 
 
 He and Lucanus and friend Tullus meet. 
 
 It may be that near Baiae’s steaming bay 
 
 He idly sails the Lucrine all the day, 
 
 Or drives with Pollio those four short miles— 
 “Do you want to know what Canius does ? He smiles.’ 
 
 ft teh 
 
 GOOD FOR EVIL 
 
 THE slave he’d branded saved his proscribed lord, 
 Or rather shamed him: that’s the better word. 
 80 
 
BOOK THREE 
 * XXII 
 TO APICIUS 
 
 You had spent sixty thousand on gorging your fill, 
 And there only remained a poor ten thousand still. 
 That to you was starvation ; so into your cup 
 
 You poured deadly poison and drank the lot up. 
 You were always a gourmet, of that I am sure ; 
 
 But by death you were proved the complete epicure. 
 
 ve MD, oh ILE 
 
 erueeE CONSUMED ON. THE PREMISES’ 
 
 To your servants behind you you hand every dish : 
 We'll call it your footmen’s repast, if you wish. 
 
 POG 
 AST RANGE ACCIDENT 
 
 A HE-GOAT caught while gnawing down a vine 
 Was dragged to die at Bacchus’ holy shrine. 
 A Tuscan priest prepared the rogue to slay 
 And bade a rustic who had come that way 
 With sickle sharp to geld the unclean beast, 
 Lest the rank odour should offend the feast. 
 Then leaning o’er the altar with his knife 
 
 He pressed it down to rob it of its life. 
 
 But as he leaned, a hernia came to view, 
 
 And the dull rustic without more ado 
 
 Cut off the titbit, thinking, I suppose, 
 
 The gods were honoured by such meats as those. 
 So he’s a Gaul who, when the rite began, 
 
 A Tuscan was, but now no more a man. 
 
 XXV 
 A FRIGID ORATOR 
 
 No one can bear your bath, so hot it is ; 
 But there’s a cure ; I'll tell you what to do. 
 Bring Sabineius there ; a speech of his 
 Once froze the baths of Nero through and through. 
 SI F 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 XXVI 
 
 TO CANDIDUS 
 
 THE harvest of your vast estate 
 And all the hoarded wealth you own, 
 Your cup of gold and priceless plate 
 Are all reserved for you alone. 
 
 Your Massic and Opimian rare 
 For others are too exquisite, 
 
 And no man is allowed to share 
 The products of your learned wit. 
 
 These things are yours, I don’t dispute 
 So plain a fact : upon my life 
 
 Your ownership is absolute 
 In all you have—except your wife. 
 
 XXVIT 
 
 TO GALLUS 
 
 You ask me not to dine although 
 I’ve often entertained you ; 
 
 If all your hosts were treated so 
 I never had arraigned you ; 
 
 But you are mean to me alone, 
 So neither can be blameless ; 
 
 That I’m a fool I freely own 
 And, Gallus, you are shameless. 
 
 * XXVIII 
 
 TO NESTOR 
 You wonder why Marius’ ear smells so vile ? 
 
 You've been whispering to him, good sir, quite a while. 
 
 AXIX 
 
 ON ZOILUS 
 
 Now Zoilus, the knight, to Saturn brings 
 Fetters and chains; they were his former rings. 
 82 
 
BOOK THREE 
 
 XXX 
 TO GARGILIANUS 
 
 No money doles now patrons give, 
 You're fed but never feed ; 
 Yet still you try in town to live, 
 And somehow you succeed. 
 
 Your coat is passing vile, ’tis true ; 
 You rent a dingy den ; 
 
 For these and for your pleasures too 
 You sponge on other men. 
 
 ‘ My costs of living,’ so you say, 
 ‘ Are reasonably small.’ 
 
 If reason be in question, pray, 
 Why should you live at all ? 
 
 PO, 9.4 
 
 TO RUFINUS 
 
 You possess, I allow it, wide acres of land, 
 
 And your houses in town spacious gardens command, 
 Many debtors bow low to your full money-chests, 
 And dishes of gold bear the meat at your feasts. 
 
 But don’t be too scornful, for Didymus of yore 
 
 And to-day Philomelus possesses far more. 
 
 XXXIT 
 
 TO MATRONIA 
 
 ‘Tis not your age that makes me cold, 
 That’s no impediment ; 
 
 But you are something more than old, 
 You're dead to all intent. 
 
 To Hecuba or Niobe 
 My heart perhaps had warmed, 
 But not when their humanity 
 Was utterly transformed. 
 83 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 XXXII 
 ‘GIVE ME FAIR AMARYLLIS° 
 
 I’D choose a maiden gently born ; 
 But if it may not be, 
 
 A slave-born maid I would not scorn 
 Whose lord had set her free. 
 
 Or e’en a serving-wench at worst, 
 If these my love rebuff ; 
 
 Nay, I would choose the bond-maid first, 
 If she were fair enough. 
 
 XXXIV 
 TO CHIONE 
 
 You’RE cold as snow—Ah, Chione, 
 Your name and nature thus agree ; 
 Yet is that name unfitting too— 
 For how can snow be dark like you ? 
 
 XXXV 
 ON A BAS-RELIEF 
 
 THEY'RE Pheidias’ fish, engraved by him, 
 Add water—and behold they swim. 
 
 * XXXVI 
 TO FABIANUS 
 
 THE duties you claim from a friend newly made 
 You expect, Fabianus, by me should be paid. 
 To come every morning my patron to greet, 
 And follow your chair in the cold muddy street, 
 To be with you still at the close of the day, 
 When you bathe at Agrippa’s, right out of my way, 
 And I bathe with Titus. Is this my reward ~ 
 For thirty long years of attentive regard ? 
 5 
 
BOOK THREE 
 
 I’ve always been ready and zealous in office, 
 
 But yet you esteem me no more than a novice. 
 
 My toga—I bought it myself—has worn thin : 
 
 Don’t you think now my time of discharge might begin ? 
 
 XXXVIT 
 A MEAN TRICK 
 
 Ricu friends, ‘tis your fashion to get in a passion 
 With humble dependants, or feign it. 
 
 Though not very nice, ’tis a saving device, 
 Economy bids you retain it. 
 
 XXXVITI 
 LIFE IN ROME 
 
 Martial : What motive, Sextus, brings you up to town ° 
 Some idle hope of fortune or renown ? 
 Sextus: Ill be a pleader: all our courts shall know 
 I am more eloquent than Cicero. 
 Martial: So Civis thought and Atestinus too, 
 —You know them—but their rent is overdue. 
 Sextus: If that should fail, my verses might atone ; 
 They’re worthy Virgil’s pen, as you will own. 
 Martial: The man is mad; our Virgils you may meet 
 And threadbare Ovids, cowering in the street. 
 Sextus: I'll find a patron—others have before— 
 Martial: And all have starved excepting three or four. 
 Sextus: I mean to live here—tell me how I can. 
 Martial: By luck alone, if you're an honest man. 
 
 XXXIX 
 ONE EYE BETTER THAN NONE 
 
 As fair as Ida’s swan is he 
 Lycoris dotes upon. 
 Well can that one-eyed beldame see 
 Tho’ half her sight is gone ! 
 835 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 soe. 2b 
 TO TELESINUS 
 
 Just because from the wealth that your coffers contain 
 You consented a thousand to lend, 
 
 You think you’ve obliged me: but let me explain, 
 It’s the one who repays that’s the friend. 
 
 iG BA 
 
 ON AN EMBOSSED GOBLET 
 
 SET on this bowl, by Mentor’s hand portrayed, 
 The lizard lives ; to touch we are afraid. 
 
 SLIT 
 
 TOP ORTA 
 
 You daub your face and think I shall not see 
 Your wrinkles. You deceive yourself, not me. 
 A small defect is nothing when revealed ; 
 
 But greater seems the blemish ill concealed. 
 
 XLII 
 
 TO LAETINUS 
 
 You seem a youth to look upon. 
 You dyed your hair—and lo, 
 
 The locks once whiter than a swan 
 Are blacker than a crow. 
 
 Not everyone can you deceive 
 And, though you hide the grey, 
 Yet Proserpine will not believe 
 But snatch the mask away. 
 86 
 
BOOK THREE 
 XLIV 
 
 TO LIGURINUS 
 
 AT your approach the neighbours flee, 
 
 What is the cause that makes them flout you, 
 And that wherever you may be 
 
 A desert seems to spread about you ? 
 
 A tigress of her whelps bereft 
 May fill the bravest heart with terror ; 
 Untouched the basking snake is left 
 And handling scorpions is an error ; 
 
 But you provide a peril worse— 
 Tis this, you overact the poet ; 
 
 When you persist in reading verse, 
 Could any patience undergo it ? 
 
 For though I run or stand or sit 
 
 With verse my ears are still blockaded ; 
 Aye, at the baths I must submit, 
 
 My privy chambers are invaded, 
 
 You stop me on my way to dine, 
 
 Then wearied by your droning numbers 
 My seat at table I resign— 
 
 I fall asleep—you break my slumbers. 
 
 Observe the evil that you do. 
 
 Though good, men hold you as pernicious ; 
 And thus an upright bore like you 
 
 Makes even virtue look suspicious. 
 
 XLV 
 LORLH ESS AVE 
 
 Dip Phoebus flee Thyestes’ feast ° 
 No faithful record still endures. 
 But I, his bard, must be released 
 From yours. 
 
 You keep a splendid table—true, 
 To tempt the jaded appetite, 
 Yet is the feast in vain—for you 
 
 Recite. 
 
 Away with fine and dainty fish, 
 Away be all the mushrooms flung, 
 You spoil my palate with a dish 
 Of tongue. 
 87 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 * XLVI 
 YOGA TOS 
 
 My attendance as client you claim without end. 
 
 I don’t come myself, but my freedman I send. 
 
 ‘ That’s not the same thing ’—Nay, it’s more, I will swear it. 
 I can scarcely keep up with your chair ; he will bear it, 
 He will thrust people back if you get in a crush ; 
 
 My elbows are weak and too well-bred to push. 
 
 At your stories in court I find nothing to say ; 
 
 But he’ll shout ‘ bravo’ with a deafening bray. 
 
 If a law-suit you have, he will bellow abuse ;. . 
 
 My shyness forbids me strong language to use. 
 
 You will say—‘ You, my friend, have an easy task got ’"— 
 Not so: I will do all my freedman can not. 
 
 SADC ATAU! 
 ‘FRESH FROM THE TOWN’ 
 
 WHERE drips the Capene gate with drops of rain, 
 Where Almo cleans the Mother’s knife of stain, 
 Where the Horatian field with crops is green, 
 Where young Alcides’ shrine is crowded seen ; 
 There Bassus in his travelling carriage rode, 
 Bringing of country crops a mighty load ; 
 
 Great cabbages, and leeks of either kind, 
 
 Coss lettuces and beets you there might find, 
 Useful to sluggish stomachs, fat field-fares 
 Strung on a hoop, and with them Gallic hares 
 And sucking pigs ; the very footmen bore 
 
 Eggs wrapped in hay, as they ran on before. 
 
 ‘ Bassus was coming back to town ? ’—you say : 
 No: in the country he was going to stay. 
 
 ce LEVITT 
 
 A POOR INVESTMENT 
 
 FRIEND Olus sold his land, that he might get 
 The cash to build a dainty maisonette. 
 The bill came in; and now, as he confesses, 
 That maisonette is all that he possesses. 
 
 88 
 
BOOK THREE 
 
 XLIX 
 THE MEAN HOST 
 
 YOURSELF you drink a vintage rare 
 While giving me v7 ordinaire. 
 
 To smell the heel-taps of your wine 
 Is better far than drinking mine. 
 
 adhd & 
 TO LIGURINUS 
 
 You never your friends, sir, to dinner invite 
 
 Except when you have some bad verse to recite. 
 
 We have scarcely sat down when on our weary ears 
 
 Comes the sound of ‘ Book One,’ ere the hors-d’euvre appears. 
 You read through Book Two while the entrée we wait ; 
 
 Book Three makes dessert and the savoury late. 
 
 Then comes Number Four and at last Number Five: 
 
 Even dainties so frequent a surfeit would give. 
 
 If you won't to the waste-paper merchant consign 
 
 Your poems, in future alone you must dine. 
 
 AN 
 ROSGA EIA 
 
 WHENE’ER I praise your legs and arms, 
 Your eyes and rosy cheeks admire, 
 You whisper low—‘ My hidden charms 
 
 A deeper wonder will inspire.’ 
 
 And yet whenever I suggest 
 A bath together, you say no. 
 Perhaps you fear that when undressed 
 Without my clothes J shall not do. 
 
 sod Ba 
 TO TONGILIANUS 
 
 You purchased a house for two thousand or so ; 
 
 A misfortune too frequent at Rome, as we know, 
 Saw it burned to the ground in a night. 
 
 A subscription was started, and ten thousand pound 
 
 You received. Well, I hope that it will not be found 
 It was you set the building alight. 
 
 89 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 LIII 
 TORCH IOE 
 
 You boast a pretty face and arms, 
 
 So fair you think that none can flout them, 
 A pretty foot and other charms, 
 
 But, Chloe, I can do without them ; 
 
 *Twere empty toil to specify 
 
 Fach several grace—I wonder whether 
 I’ve made it clear.to you that I 
 
 Could do without you altogether. 
 
 gf Gd Bi RY 
 POP GAT iA 
 
 You need not consider or make an ado: 
 I can’t pay your price: so of course you'll say no. 
 
 Paley 
 [QEGELLIA 
 
 WHEN we see you, we think of a perfumer’s shop, 
 Or a cinnamon-jar brimming over the top. 
 
 Don’t fancy such nonsense attracts men you meet : 
 My dog, if I scent her, will smell just as sweet. 
 
 * LVI 
 A THIRSTY SEAND 
 
 AT Ravenna a cistern will vineyards outshine, 
 For water is here far more precious than wine. 
 
 LVII 
 
 WATER v. WINE 
 
 MINE host at Ravenna’s a rascally cheat ; 
 I ordered mixed wine and he gave it me neat. 
 
 gO 
 
BOOK THREE 
 melev TT 
 LOS BASS US 
 
 THE house Faustinus owns near Baiae’s coasts 
 No widowed elms, no close-clipped boxes boasts, 
 No myrtle groves extending far and wide ; 
 
 His is the true, the artless countryside. 
 
 In every corner sacks of grain recline, 
 
 And many a jar smells sweet of ancient wine ; 
 When autumn’s gone and winter days begin 
 
 The rough-clad pruner brings the last grapes in; 
 Bulls fiercely roar, as in deep vales they stray, 
 And steers as yet unhorned pine for the fray ; 
 About the farmyard poultry wander free ; 
 
 Shrill geese and jewelled peacocks you may see ; 
 There guinea-fowl and speckled partridge stand, 
 And pheasants from the impious Colchian’s land, 
 And birds that from their redness get their name, 
 And haughty cocks, each with his Rhodian dame ; 
 From the high cotes resounds a soft lament, 
 Turtles and ringdoves with the pigeons blent. 
 Fat piglets give the bailiff’s wife no rest, 
 
 And tender lambs await their mother’s breast ; 
 Young home-born slaves flock round the hearth each night, 
 And by the household gods the logs burn bright. 
 No pale-faced servants here as vintners toil, 
 
 No wrestling-masters waste the precious oil ; 
 For greedy thrush a crafty snare they set, 
 
 Or trap young roe-deer in a hunting-net, 
 
 Or catch the fish with line and quivering rod ; 
 Nor do the town-slaves wait the tutor’s nod 
 
 To get to work, but labouring with good-will 
 
 In merry mood the fruitful garden till, 
 
 While long-haired boys the bailiff swift obey ; 
 And even eunuchs find that work is play. 
 
 His country guests come not with empty hands : 
 A round of cheese from Sassina’s forest lands, 
 
 Or yellow honey in the comb safe hid, 
 
 Or drowsy dormice, or a bleating kid, 
 
 Or gelded capon ; and each sturdy maid 
 
 ‘ In baskets brings the eggs her hens have laid ; - 
 When work is done his neighbours come to dine, 
 All share the meal nor do the slaves repine, 
 
 Or grudge the guests their fill: he does not borrow 
 From to-day’s dish to serve a feast to-morrow. 
 
 QI 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 But you, my friend, in your suburban seat 
 
 Win but starvation from your garden neat ; 
 
 From your high towers you see but laurel leaves, 
 Nor need your garden god have fear of thieves ; 
 Your labourers are fed on corn from Rome, 
 
 And you import to your gay country home 
 
 Greens, apples, poultry, eggs, and wine, and cheese. 
 Mansions in town, not farms, need things like these. 
 
 Ik] B,8 
 
 ‘TIMES ARE CHANGED’ 
 
 AT Bononia a cobbler furnished a show, 
 
 At Matina a bleacher: I’m wondering now 
 At what sort of town we may possibly see 
 An innkeeper give people circus-games free. 
 
 sei bd, 
 
 LO WPON TICS 
 
 To-pay I dine with you at my own cost, 
 
 So why not fare the same, both guest and host ? 
 You swallow Lucrine oysters large and fat, 
 
 I suck a whelk and cut my lips at that. 
 
 You're served with mushrooms, I chew fungus still 
 You have to do with turbot, I with brill. 
 
 Plump yellow doves your appetite assuage, 
 
 I have a magpie starved within its cage. 
 
 I’m by your side and yet I’m far away. 
 
 The dole has gone. Let’s fare the same, I say. 
 
 i>. 
 
 TO CINNA 
 
 YoOuR impudent demands to mask, 
 You always say that what you ask 
 Is—nothing—but, if that be true, 
 What I refuse is nothing too. 
 
 Q2 
 
BOOK THREE 
 * LXII 
 TO QUINTUS 
 
 For a slave you will pay a cool thousand, or double ; 
 For a cup forty pounds: to pay gives you no trouble. 
 King Numa laid down the choice wine that you drink ; 
 Your furniture cost you ten thousand, I think. 
 
 For the price of your carriage a farm you might own ; 
 Your hackney is worth a fine mansion in town. 
 
 You imagine that taste just depends on your purse ; 
 But the truth is, my friend, it is just the reverse. 
 
 LXIII 
 TOSCOLILOGS 
 
 You’RE quite a pretty spark I heard, for many folk main- 
 tain it; 
 
 What is the meaning of the word ? pray, Cotilus, explain it. 
 
 ‘Observe,’ you say, ‘my curly hair—the style is just 
 invented— 
 
 With cinnamon and balsams rare I’m elegantly scented, 
 
 I hum the last Egyptian song, the newest dance from Cadiz, 
 
 And loll in boudoirs all day long to gossip with the ladies : 
 
 My pretty nothings soft and low I whisper with devotion, 
 
 My lily hands and gestures show the poetry of motion. 
 
 To read and answer little notes make up my daily labours, 
 
 In horror of their vulgar coats I always shun my neighbours, 
 
 And at the races I can tell the sires of all the winners.’ 
 
 That all, my friend? Youcan’t goon? Then I don’t want 
 to see one, 
 
 And save in Little Peddington would any choose to be one ? 
 
 LOS LV. 
 IeVD CCIM EM oS Tf ONd od 
 
 THE sirens, who on sailors brought 
 
 The jocund death themselves had sought, 
 
 Their spite Ulysses knew to foil : 
 
 He heard, yet robbed them of their spoil. 
 
 Great is his fame ; but greater glory 
 
 ’Twere to escape old John when he begins a story. 
 
 93 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 tbl) 
 TO DIADUMENUS 
 
 FRUIT-LADEN breath on maiden’s lips, 
 Effluence that from safran drips, 
 
 Odour of vines in early May, 
 
 Fragrance that comes from new-mown hay. 
 Earth steaming wet with summer showers, 
 Nard which from rosy chaplets pours, 
 Myrtle and amber, eastern scents, 
 
 Fires glowing pale with frankincense— 
 
 As sweet as all of these your kiss— 
 
 So grudge me not my fill of bliss. 
 
 ye NBDE | 
 ON THE MURDER OF CICERO 
 
 THE triumvir’s sword that Tully robbed of life 
 Was full as guilty as the Egyptian knife, 
 
 For he excelled all pleaders at the bar 
 
 As much as laurelled Pompey shone in war ; 
 And Antony but poor excuse can bring : 
 
 He served himself ; Pothinus served his king. 
 
 MPs Vente 
 THE LAZY (BOATMES 
 
 My lads, you naught of rowing know ; 
 You're lazy, I’m afraid. 
 
 More sluggish than the shallow tide 
 Where dips your languid blade. 
 
 The sun has climbed to heaven's height, 
 His steeds all panting seem 
 
 And now the hour of midday rest 
 Unyokes the weary team. 
 
 You pull along the placid waves ; 
 But with unstraightened back. 
 
 The boat is safe ; you take your ease ; 
 Your tars not jack but slack. 
 
 94 
 
BOOK THREE 
 
 LXVIII 
 A WARNING 
 
 MATRON, this book for you is writ, 
 Thus far: you ask about the rest ? 
 
 "Tis meant for men like me—its wit 
 Perhaps is somewhat scantly dressed. 
 
 "Tis stripped quite bare to run its race 
 And cannot wear a modest guise— 
 The wrestling-ground and bathing-place 
 
 Are sights unmeant for matron’s eyes. 
 
 The rose’s scent, the flowing bowl, 
 Have wrought on my Terpsichore, 
 
 Henceforward she doth scorn control 
 And recks not that her speech is free. 
 
 As when Priapus’ figure stands 
 O’er garden-plots his watch to keep, 
 Prudes veil their face with modest hands 
 And yet between their fingers peep. 
 
 So you had laid aside the book 
 As dull and wearisome to you ; 
 
 But now will take another look 
 Thereon—and read the volume through, 
 
 DEP, « 
 POBCUSCON ILS 
 
 In your poems there’s nothing the modest to vex, 
 Not a line in the lot that makes mention of sex. 
 For myself, I confess it, my books are too free, 
 And I praise and I wonder at your purity. 
 
 Let ladies of pleasure and naughty young men 
 And amorous elders delight in my pen : 
 
 But the chaste decent verses, which to us you sing, 
 For vestals and children will be quite the thing. 
 
 FE @,€ 
 TO SCAEVINUS 
 
 TuE wife you divorced, who has married her lover, 
 You're trying again on the sly to recover. 
 
 From the fact she’s another’s fresh charm she derives, 
 And the danger a zest to adultery gives. 
 
 95 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 EXxT 
 MENTULA cum doleat puero, tibi, Naeuole, culus, 
 Non sum diuinus, sed scio quid facias. 
 
 1B, 65.0 I 
 
 Vis futui nec ulis mecum, Saufeia, lauari. 
 Nescio quod magnum suspicor esse nefas. 
 
 Aut tibi pannosae dependent pectore mammae 
 Aut sulcos uteri prodere nuda times 
 
 Aut infinito lacerum patet inguen hiatu 
 Aut aliquid cunni prominet ore tui. 
 
 Sed nihil est horum, credo, pulcherrima nuda es. 
 Si uerum est, uitium peius habes: fatua es. 
 
 LXXIIlI 
 
 DorRMIS cum pueris mutuniatis, 
 
 Et non stat tibi, Galle, quod stat illis. 
 Quid uis me, rogo, Phoebe, suspicari ? 
 Mollem credere te uirum uolebam, 
 Sed rumor negat esse te cinaedum. 
 
 LOCA LY 
 
 TO GARGILIANUS 
 
 Do you shrink from a barber that you smooth your cheek 
 With salve, and with plaster a hair-clearance seek ? 
 
 Well, how will you manage to pare your long nails ? 
 
 With them neither resin nor gypsum avails. 
 
 Nay, cease thus your wretched old noddle to shame : 
 
 Let girls, if they wish it, indulge in that game. 
 
 LXXV 
 
 STARE, Luperce, tibi iam pridem mentula desit, 
 Luctaris demens tu tamen arrigere. 
 Sed nihil erucae faciunt bulbique salaces 
 Inproba nec prosunt iam satureia tibi. 
 Coepisti puras opibus corrumpere buccas : 
 Sic quoque non uiuit sollicitata Venus. 
 Mirari satis hoc quisquam uel credere possit, 
 Quod non stat, magno stare, Luperce, tibi ? 
 
 96 
 
BOOK THREE 
 TOCA NVI 
 LO BASSUS 
 
 A MAID you scorn, a crone for mistress have, 
 And court old dames with one foot in the grave. 
 Yours must indeed an amorous frenzy be. 
 Hecuba you love, you hate Andromache. 
 
 TES AXVIT 
 SSeS TASTES 
 
 You do not like fieldfares, you do not like mullet ; 
 Neither hare nor roast boar ever passes your gullet. 
 Sweet cakes and hot rolls to you both are unpleasant ; 
 You never have partridge, you never have pheasant. 
 But capers and onions you eat soaked in brine ; 
 Falernian you shun, but you drink resined wine. 
 
 Dry sprats you think tasty and pale salted tunny, 
 And meat from a ham that’s decidedly funny. 
 
 There’s something suspicious, that’s quite understood, 
 When a man prefers filth and avoids wholesome food. 
 
 LXXVIII 
 
 MINXISTI currente semel, Pauline, carina. 
 Meiere uis iterum ? iam Palinurus eris. 
 
 i dk, OG De 
 MPERSEVERKANTIA VINCIT ’ 
 
 JACK keeps starting new games ere the old ones are over : 
 I think he must be a most incomplete lover. 
 
 PLD, D,O,€ 
 NOL MAO OR 
 You do not find fault and you do not backbite ; 
 
 But there’s something about you that is not quite right. 
 97 G 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 LXXXI 
 
 OQuID cum femineo tibi, Baetice Galle, barathro ? 
 Haec debet medios lambere lingua uiros. 
 
 Abscisa est quare Samia tibi mentula testa, 
 Si tibi tam gratus, Baetice, cunnus erat ? 
 
 Castrandum caput est : nam sis licet inguine Gallus, 
 Sacra tamen Cybeles decipis: ore uir es. 
 
 AED OO, G8 
 SORDID SPLENDOUR 
 
 WHOE’ER can endure with Zoilus to dine 
 
 At a supper with drabs by the walls might recline, 
 
 Or drink, even sober, from Leda’s cracked jar, 
 
 For it’s cleaner than he is and sweeter by far. 
 
 He sprawls on a couch which he fills all alone, 
 
 And with elbows thrust out takes three places for one, 
 Propped on purple silk cushions in saffron green coat 
 With a minion beside him to tickle his throat 
 
 Or hand him a toothpick, and lying below 
 
 A woman to fan him and cool his hot brow. 
 
 A boy with a myrtle branch keeps off the flies, 
 
 And a dexterous masseuse her nimble art plies 
 Rubbing all his limbs over with wide-stretched-out hand, 
 While a eunuch stands waiting his finger’s command, 
 And holding his drunken lord’s person with care 
 
 The voided stream guides to the full earthenware. 
 
 The great man himself to the crowd at his feet, 
 
 Where the lap-dogs are gnawing their goose-liver meat, 
 Turns and throws bits of ham for his wrestlers to seize 
 And with turtle-doves’ rumps tries his minion to please. 
 We quaff poor new wine from Liguria’s hills 
 
 Quickly mellowed by smoke ; for his jesters he fills 
 
 A cup of bright crystal or veined alabaster 
 
 With Opimian nectar to drink to their master. 
 
 Though himself he is drenched in the costliest scent 
 
 He feels it no shame in gold shells to present 
 
 Us with grease that is used for their hair by poor whores, ~ 
 And when he’s quite drunk, he just lies back and snores ; 
 While we still at table must even refrain 
 
 From toasting each other, and silent remain. 
 
 That’s the treatment we get at Sir Malchio’s feast ; 
 
 And we can’t pay him back, he is such a foul beast. 
 
 98 
 
BOOK THREE 
 * LXXXIII 
 TO CORDUS 
 
 You advise me to write shorter poems, my friend. 
 ‘ Let Chione show you the trick.’ 
 
 With her the beginning is also the end. 
 For myself, I cannot be as quick. 
 
 LXXXIV 
 
 QUID narrat tua moecha ? non puellam 
 Dixi, Gongylion. quid ergo ? linguam. 
 
 * LXXXV 
 TO A JEALOUS HUSBAND 
 
 Wuat ailed you to cut off the young gallant’s nose, 
 And leave all unscathed the prime source of your woes. 
 
 LXXXVI 
 TO A MATRON 
 
 THESE pages were not meant for you 
 That was distinctly understood, 
 
 Yet you are reading them—I knew 
 You would. 
 
 Dear prude, through many plays you've sat. 
 Read on, nor fear my coarsest verse ; 
 
 The scenes you often chuckle at 
 Are worse. 
 
 ADDO, Org aE 
 TO CHIONE 
 
 THEY tell me, dear lady, you’ve always lived chaste 
 And your limbs by a lover have ne’er been embraced. 
 Yet for them at the baths a close cover’s supplied : 
 
 It’s your face, in my judgment, you rather should hide. 
 
 00 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 LXXXVIII 
 
 SUNT gemini fratres, diuersa sed inguina lingunt. 
 Dicite, dissimiles sunt magis an similes ? 
 
 * LXXXIX 
 TO PHOEBUS 
 
 By the look of your face I should say—‘ Change your diet.’ 
 Some lettuce or mallow will purge you: just try it. 
 
 Pon 
 INCONSTANCY 
 
 SHE will and she will not. I really can’t say 
 ’Twixt her will-not and will what she means—Yea or Nay. 
 
 cae GH 
 THE PRIEST SCOR Wika 
 
 A SOLDIER was coming back home to Ravenna 
 
 With Achillas, a pretty young runaway, when a 
 Band of effeminate priests came along 
 
 And the soldier joined up with the castrated throng. 
 The priests asked the boy where in bed the pair lay ; 
 For they thought that on him a foul trick they would play. 
 But he saw their intention and cunningly lied— 
 ‘My place,’ he declared, “is the outermost side.’ 
 After supper the priests, when the two were asleep, 
 Took a knife and in silence towards them did creep, 
 And proceeded the outermost partner to geld 
 
 While the boy his safe place on the inner side held. 
 We have seen how a stag saved the maiden of old: 
 But here for a stag we a phallus behold. 
 
 XCIT 
 
 Ur patiar moechum rogat uxor, Galle, sed unum. 
 Huic ego non oculos eruo, Galle, duos ? 
 100 
 
BOOK THREE 
 
 ACT 
 PtreveE Puli LEA 
 
 OF consuls you have seen quite fifteen score, 
 
 Of hairs you’ve three, of teeth you’ve only four, 
 Grasshopper’s breast, ant’s legs and colour pale, 
 Forehead more wrinkled than a woman’s veil. 
 Your breasts hang loose as spiders’ webs, the while 
 Your mouth gapes open like a crocodile. 
 Ravenna’s frogs and gnats may be no joke 
 
 But they are more agreeable than your croak. 
 An owl in daylight can see just as well, 
 
 A he-goat has a more attractive smell. 
 
 Your back should to a skinny duck belong, 
 
 Your front a Cynic even finds too strong. 
 
 The bathman has to put his lantern out 
 
 Ere you can join the drabs who roam about 
 
 The tombs at night in search of some stray lover. 
 For you in August winter’s still not over, 
 
 And even fever cannot now suffice 
 
 To warm your limbs and melt your ancient ice. 
 But yet you yearn for marriage, I am told, 
 
 After two hundred trials and are bold 
 
 Enough to think a man will feel desire 
 
 For your cold ashes and your burnt-out fire. 
 
 Bid such a one the solid rock to hoe ; 
 
 For how could you your wifely duties do, 
 
 When you as ‘ grandmother ’ are now addressed ? 
 Nay, if you want your shaking limbs caressed, 
 Go, get a bedstead from the realms beneath 
 
 And let your bridegroom be the Lord of Death, 
 While body-burners tend the new-made bride 
 And with their torches warm your wrinkled side. 
 
 POLY 
 
 LOVRUEUS 
 
 You call for a whip, crying out that the hare 
 Has been sent up half-raw to the table. 
 You can’t cut its flesh, as you loudly declare, 
 But to cut up the cook you'll be able. 
 IOI 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 GV 
 TO NAEVOLUS 
 
 You greet no man till first he says ‘ Good day’ ; 
 Even a talking crow is more polite ; 
 
 Why should I yield you this precedence pray ; 
 Are you my better by repute or right ? 
 
 Two Caesars praised me, and for my renown 
 A father’s due is mine, in spite of fate, 
 
 My fame and works are known in every town, 
 No posthumous reward I need await. 
 
 That I was tribune all the world doth know, 
 
 You are debarred from sitting with the knights ; 
 You boast a few dependants ; many owe, 
 
 By Caesar’s grace, to me their Roman rights. 
 
 And yet you have a claim I freely own 
 And hold one title I cannot gainsay. 
 In vice you stand pre-eminent alone ; 
 I yield precedence. Naevolus, Good day ! 
 
 Peay | 
 EO (GARGILLIGS 
 
 Just because you once kissed my dear girl on the sly, 
 You go bragging that you are her lover. 
 
 If you do it, Gargilius, when I am by, 
 Your boasting will soon be all over. 
 
 TOO VAL 
 
 LOPRU EOS 
 
 Let Chione not read this book, 
 Which does her charms attack ; 
 
 For if I don’t misjudge her look, 
 She’ll get her own well back. 
 
 XCVIII 
 
 Si1T culus tibi quam macer, requiris, 
 Paedicare potes, Sabelle, culo. 
 102 
 
BOOK THREE 
 XCIX 
 TO THE COBBLER PARVENU 
 
 Nay, why resent the jest I made ? 
 Your anger pray subdue ; 
 
 I only pointed at your trade, 
 Good cobbler, not at you. 
 
 Let not the harmless line I wrote 
 Your enmity provoke ; 
 
 You slit a gladiator’s throat— 
 May I not crack a joke ? 
 
 C 
 
 A BOON FROM HEAVEN 
 
 THE rain at midday, when I sent to you, 
 
 Must needs have soaked both book and bearer through. 
 How excellently timed! The sky no doubt 
 
 Sent down its flood to wash my blunders out. 
 
 103 
 

 
 
 | WPT RITE ey em Te ee LATED a, 
 i a. ae ’ Man Py anit Ho Ae , ] % ta! 
 
 JA 
 ba 
 
oe 
 
 
 
BOOK FOUR 
 * | 
 DOMITIAN’S BIRTHDAY 
 
 O Happy day, more hallowed than the morn 
 When on consenting Ida Jove was born, 
 
 Come oft I pray and Nestor’s years outrun, 
 Matching our Emperor’s glory with thy sun. 
 
 Long may he Pallas court, in Alba’s gold, 
 
 Long in proud hand the oak-leaf garland hold, 
 And even when a hundred years have flown 
 
 May the Great Games still see him on the throne. 
 A wondrous gift, yet owed to earth by fate ! 
 
 And for a god so high no vows can seem too great. 
 
 Iie 
 
 He ae PY CAANCE 
 
 HoRATIUS sat the games to see, 
 Unseemly black he wore ; 
 
 Tho’ all were clad in white save he 
 From churl to senator. 
 
 Then fell the snow (for heaven conspired 
 To set the error right), 
 
 Until, more decently attired, 
 Horatius sat in white. 
 
 Til 
 
 THE SNOWSTORM IN THE CIRCUS 
 
 THE silent snow a fleece doth cast 
 On Caesar’s breast and flecks his hair, 
 He scorns the frost and frozen blast 
 And humours Jove, half unaware. 
 Who spurned Bootes and the Bear 
 With dripping locks, may well defy 
 Those flakes—the toys his little heir 
 Has dropped while playing in the sky. 
 : 107 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 fA 
 LORDAS IA 
 
 STENCH from the pools of marshes newly drained, 
 Vapours from springs that bubble sulphur-stained, 
 Reek of a fish-pond old and salt and black, 
 
 Of he-goat straining on his partner’s back, 
 
 Of soldiers’ boots, when they have been long worn, 
 Of Jews who take no food on Sabbath morn, 
 
 Of fleeces dipped too much in purple dye, 
 
 Of criminals as loud they sob and sigh ; 
 
 Leda’s foul lamp whose fumes the ceiling soil, 
 Ointment that’s made from lees of Sabine oil, 
 
 A fox in flight, a viper in her lair, 
 
 All these compared with you are perfumes rare. 
 
 Vv 
 
 SUCCESS 
 
 WHAT brings you, friend, to Rome? You so upright 
 So poor and (worse) sincere in word and heart ! 
 How can you play the pimp or parasite, 
 -Or stoop to act the vile informer’s part ? 
 
 Or would you join the foul seducer’s tribe, 
 Betray a friend, court passion-freezing hags, 
 
 Feign friendship with the great, to get a bribe, 
 Roar hired applause when Canus’ acting flags ? 
 
 ‘A loyal friend am I and worthy trust,’ 
 
 You say. Poor honest wretch! no hope is there, 
 Here such an one shall never earn a crust, 
 
 Whilst Philomelus dies a millionaire. 
 
 eel 
 TO MALISIANUS 
 
 A POET at Stella’s attempted to gull us 
 By reading us verse in the style of Tibullus, 
 The low dirty rogue ; but I’d have you to know 
 He is not so dirty or roguish as you 
 Who pretend that your cheeks are with soft blushes laden, 
 And wish us to fancy that you are a maiden. 
 108 
 
BOOK FOUR 
 
 Sav LL 
 iy tS 
 
 YESTERDAY you gave a kiss, 
 Now from me you fly ; 
 
 Tell me, pray, the cause of this 
 Wanton cruelty. 
 
 “TIT am growing old,’—you say, 
 “And must careful be.’ 
 
 Nay, it was but yesterday 
 When you kissed me ! 
 
 VIII 
 THE DAILY ROUTINE 
 
 EXACTING patrons claim the first two hours, 
 
 The third doth show the raucous pleader’s powers, 
 The fourth and fifth in business Rome doth spend, 
 The sixth gives pause, the seventh brings labour’s end ; 
 The eighth to manly sports and baths assign, 
 
 And at the ninth take cushioned ease and dine ; 
 The tenth should be the season for my books, 
 When by your care, Euphemus, and the cook’s, 
 On food ambrosial god-like Caesar sups 
 
 And drains the nectar from but modest cups ; 
 Then usher in my little jests I pray— 
 
 Jove is too busy earlier in the day. 
 
 peb.< 
 A DEGENERATE DAUGHTER 
 
 DR GOODMAN’S young daughter has taken a lover, 
 And for his fine eyes thrown her own husband over ; 
 She’s giving him money too. Oh, what a shame! 
 She does not live up to the family name. 
 
 xX 
 TO FAUSTINUS WITH HIS BOOK 
 
 THE scroll is new, still rough at either end, 
 
 The ink, scarce dry, no careless touch may brook, 
 
 Yet haste and bear it to my dearest friend ; 
 
 Ere he has seen, none else thereon shall look : 
 109 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Go armed, my slave. As comrade for the book 
 Take this large sponge, a fitting gift to send. 
 
 A pen might not avail to mend each joke, 
 
 But this can do it at a single stroke. 
 
 Fe SeL 
 
 TO ANTONIUS SATURNINUS, A REVOLTING 
 GOVERNOR 
 
 THE name of Saturninus you refused, 
 
 And in vain pride Antonius only used, 
 
 When ‘neath the northern Bear you roused such strife, 
 As he who warred with his Egyptian wife. 
 
 Hadst thou forgotten, wretch, thy namesake’s fate 
 Crushed by God’s vengeance in the Actian strait, 
 
 Or did Rhine promise what the Nile ne’er gave ? 
 
 Didst think more might was in the Arctic wave ? 
 Antony beneath our swords his lot did rue; 
 
 And he a Caesar was compared to you. 
 
 of 3,08 
 
 THE UNIVERSAL PROVIDER 
 
 AT night no man do you refuse, 
 And what is worse, dear Nancy, 
 
 There’s nothing you refuse to do, 
 Whatever be his fancy. 
 
 XIII 
 
 AN EPITHALAMIUM 
 
 PuDENS to-day his Claudia doth claim 
 In love united, 
 
 A blessing, Hymen, on the twofold flame 
 Thy torch hath lighted. 
 
 These are as honey poured in rarest wine ; 
 Could aught be meeter ? 
 
 Not cinnamon with spikenard could combine 
 In fragrance sweeter. 
 
 110 
 
BOOK FOUR 
 
 Beside this tender vine her elm doth tower 
 His might to give her. 
 
 She is the myrtle sweet, the lotus flower, 
 And he her river. 
 
 Fair Concord ever o’er their lives preside 
 Unviolated ; 
 
 Dear Venus bless the bridegroom and the bride 
 So fitly mated ; 
 
 And may the coming years so far and dim 
 No change discover, 
 
 But she be loving still and fair to him, 
 Her grey-haired lover. 
 
 ABSA DN 
 Om Se eLALICUS 
 
 PRIDE of our Muses, who in deathless strain 
 Dost prove the tricks of frenzied foemen vain, 
 And make the wiles of Hannibal to yield 
 
 To gallant Scipio on Zama’s field, 
 
 Prithee, dear Silius, banish for a while 
 
 These tasks severe, and on my verses smile. 
 When mad December with her dice-box rattles, 
 Forget thy tale of sieges and of battles, 
 
 And in these days of mirth and mischief choose 
 The merry triflings of my sportive Muse. 
 
 So gay Catullus once, O noble friend, 
 
 To mighty Maro did his ‘ Sparrow’ send. 
 
 XV 
 LO CAERCILIANUS 
 
 TEN pounds you asked ; then, failing to persuade me 
 (Though in a week it was to be repaid me), 
 You said a guest was due upon the morrow, 
 And so my silver-plate you tried to borrow. 
 Are you a fool or I >—’Twere hardly thrifty 
 To save the ten and give the worth of fifty ! 
 Lag 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 ae, pI 
 
 LOMGHEE US, 
 
 To your father’s young wife in his lifetime you were 
 Something more than a stepson, so people aver. 
 
 It could not be proved while he lived, it is true, 
 
 But now he’s departed she still stays with you. 
 
 It’s a case ; were great Tully alive he could lend you 
 No aid, nor could Regulus even defend you. 
 
 When she chooses your stepmother still to remain 
 She was never a proper stepmother, that’s plain. 
 
 * XVil 
 
 DO PPAULUS 
 
 ‘WRITE a piece to Lycisca,’ you bid me, ‘ that she 
 May blush with annoyance her portrait to see.’ 
 You're an artful, sly fellow, and that you must own ; 
 You want by yourself to enjoy her alone. 
 
 RS VeLLL 
 
 THE LIQUID DAGGER 
 
 O CRUEL fate. Where now is death not found ? 
 What licence is not yours when waters wound ? 
 Where the gate drips hard by Vipsania’s Hall, 
 And from the slippery stones the raindrops fall, 
 On a boy’s throat as he passed by beneath 
 
 The frozen water fell—and brought him death : 
 A weighted dagger ; then, its fell task done, 
 
 In his warm flesh it melted, and was gone. 
 
 oi OR < 
 
 WITH THE GIFT (OF VAT Clon 
 
 Tuts cloak that on Sequanian looms was born, 
 
 A gift right welcome on a winter’s morn, 
 
 I send you now: in Sparta it is famed, 
 
 Though it be rough, and endromis is named. 
 
 Whether well-oiled you wrestle in the lists, 
 
 Or punch the light-stuffed ball with eager fists, 
 112 
 
BOOK FOUR 
 
 Or in the dust the flying bladder chase, 
 
 Or seek to conquer Athas in the race, 
 
 ‘Twill serve to keep the cold from heated limbs 
 And save you from the rainstorm’s sudden whims. 
 Your Tyrian muslins are but shelter vain ; 
 
 Clad in this gift you’ll laugh at wind and rain. 
 
 XX 
 
 OLD AND YOUNG 
 
 CAERELLIA, but a chit, apes womanhood, 
 Old Gellia affects a skittish mood : 
 
 How can one bear with either, and adjust 
 The divers claims of laughter and disgust ? 
 
 XXI 
 
 Pa b eho Or PAGS 
 
 WHEN Segius declaims he knows 
 
 That Heaven is void and gods are not, 
 It is because his record shows 
 
 That knaves may have a prosperous lot. 
 
 sy OOH 
 
 THE BATAER 
 
 Farr Nelly, just wedded and still a coy bride, 
 To escape from embraces plunged in the bright tide. 
 But the treacherous water refused to conceal her, 
 And the deeper she plunged, the more clear did reveal her. 
 So shut in clear glass you may count lilies white, 
 So crystal displays a red rose-bud to sight. 
 I leaped in behind her, and snatched a sly kiss, 
 Though the water prevented perfection of bliss. 
 II3 H 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 XXIII 
 DLHERMMUSE'S, PRIZE 
 
 MAKE thine award, Thalia, cease 
 To dally. Canst thou not discern 
 Who for the epigrams of Greece 
 The first and second crowns should earn ? 
 Go to Callimachus and learn 
 That Brutianus first must be ; 
 And if from Greece to Rome he turn, 
 Give thou the second place to me ! 
 
 XXIV 
 A USEFUL FRIEND 
 
 THEY say your lady friends have no long life, 
 Lycoris—Let me introduce my wife. 
 
 ep. 0.0) 
 A (PLEASANT RARE T Read 
 
 ALTINUM’S shore that can with Baiae vie, 
 
 And the green woods that saw young Phaethon die, 
 And thou fair Sola who didst Faunus wed 
 
 And in Euganean waters hast thy bed, 
 
 And Aquileia with Timarus blessed 
 
 Where Castor’s steed the sevenfold stream possessed, 
 If in old age my choice be given free, 
 
 You shall my place of rest, my haven be. 
 
 XXVI 
 
 CHE CLIENT Susee 
 
 ARE you anxious to hear what I lost in a year 
 By giving up calling on you ? 
 
 "Twas a guinea at most ; pray excuse me, good host, 
 A second-rate toga costs two. 
 
 II4 
 
BOOK FOUR 
 XXVII 
 ON A JEALOUS RIVAL 
 
 CAESAR, I know you often praise 
 My books—and will it change your wont 
 That yonder jealous rascal says 
 You don’t ? 
 
 If rumoured words his anger stir, 
 His envious wrath must rise anew 
 At boons no other could confer, 
 Save you. 
 
 He gnaws his grimy nails for spite, 
 Just watch him turning livid green ; 
 Grant me fresh bounties to excite 
 His spleen. 
 
 SEX MV ITT 
 Ome DEOL 
 
 You give Spanish cloaks to Lupercus as hire, 
 
 Their wool dyed in scarlet and purple of Tyre, 
 
 And a toga new dipped in Galesus’ warm tide, 
 Sardonyx from India and emeralds beside, 
 
 And a hundred new sovereigns fresh from the mint ; 
 Whatever he asks for you grant without stint. 
 
 His skin may be smooth and his cheeks may be fair ; 
 But your stripling Lupercus will soon strip you bare. 
 
 XXIX 
 TO PUDENS 
 
 THEIR wealth has wrought my verses harm, 
 Their sated reader yawns and dozes ; 
 
 ’Tis rarity gives books their charm, 
 Like early fruits or winter roses. 
 
 Let mistresses be coy and hard, 
 And men will spend their all to win them ; 
 If doors are never shut and barred 
 They cannot draw young love within them. 
 II5 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 A single volume Persius wrote, 
 
 But this in every heart enshrined him ; 
 How many now could read or quote 
 
 The epics Marsus left behind him ? 
 
 So if you read a book of mine, 
 Think it my only publication ; 
 
 I know more brightly it will shine 
 In that imagined isolation. 
 
 IMS, S 
 
 A WARNING TO FISHERMEN 
 
 Go from our Baian Lake, I bid thee go, 
 
 Ere thou the guilt of sacrilege allow. 
 
 Holy the fish that swim about this strand ; 
 They know their Lord, and fawn upon the hand 
 That is on earth most mighty, and withal 
 They have their names and answer to his call. 
 An impious wretch from Africa’s dark shore 
 Was drawing from this deep his prey of yore, 
 When sudden blindness fell upon his eyes, 
 Nor could he longer see his watery prize. 
 
 So now he holds his cursed hooks in hate, 
 And as a beggar sits at Baiae’s gate. 
 
 Revere these dainty fish and with pure heart 
 Cast them a guileless meal and then depart. 
 
 XXXI 
 
 THE DIFFICULT RHYME 
 
 WRITE you an epigram ? When you suggested it, 
 
 Friend, I was flattered that you had requested it. 
 
 Is it an honour? I pledge you my word on it, 
 
 If my poor verses a lustre conferred on it, 
 
 Gladly I’d mention your name from regard to you, 
 
 Had not your mother been cruelly hard to you. 
 
 Names so unmetrical, sesquipedalian, . 
 
 Dry up the source of the fountain Castalian, 
 
 Melpomene will not whisper or mutter it, 
 
 None of her sisters nor Phoebus can utter it. 
 
 Get you another the Muses think better of, 
 
 This is a word I can’t use the last letter of ; 
 
 ‘ Hippodamé,’ little grace I can see in it, 
 
 Though, to be sure, I might end with the ‘ e ’ in it. 
 116 
 
BOOK FOUR 
 XXXII 
 ON A BEE IN AMBER 
 
 THE bee, as though enshrined in honey clear, 
 Is seen imprisoned in an amber tear 
 
 Of Phaethusa or Lampetie ; 
 
 A just reward hast thou, O toiler bee ; 
 Methinks that gladly thou hast met thy doom, 
 Content to lie within a golden tomb. 
 
 XXXII 
 
 BUSEHUMOUS PUBLICATION 
 
 PACKED in your desk your finished verses lurk, 
 
 Or so you say. Pray, let us read your work. 
 
 “ My heirs,’ you say,.‘ shall give the world that boon.’ 
 Oh, give those heirs the chance to publish soon ! 
 
 TS AV 
 JhO! AHI VASA. 
 
 YOUR rags are grimy, but they’ve worn so thin 
 To call them ‘ snow-flakes ’ were no mortal sin. 
 
 49D, O.Q') 
 
 Mest RANGES SRECTACLE 
 
 WE have seen gentle deer charging on head to head, 
 
 And meeting together, together fall dead, 
 
 While the hounds stood amazed at this new sort of strife, 
 And the huntsman found nothing to do for his knife. 
 What frenzy to weaklings such fire could supply ? 
 
 In this fashion bulls fight, in this fashion men die. 
 
 XXXVI 
 
 LHI CONTRAST 
 
 Your locks are raven black, your beard is grey. 
 Well, wigs are easier to dye they say. 
 LL7 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 * XXXVII 
 TO AFER 
 
 ‘ ONE thousand pounds Coranus owes to me, 
 Mancinus two, and Titius owes three, 
 
 Albinus owes just twice as much, and then 
 Sabinus and Serranus each owe ten ; 
 
 My flats and farms give thirty thousand clear, 
 My Parma sheep bring sixty in each year ’“— 
 That’s how you talk, and every day’s the same ; 
 I know it better than I know my name. 
 
 Unpaid I can no more your tales endure ; 
 
 They bring a nausea only cash can cure. 
 
 XXXVITII 
 LOZGATAA 
 
 GALLA, say ‘ no ’—Tease love and you renew it. 
 But prithee, Galla, do not overdo it. 
 
 XXXIK 
 TO CHARINUS 
 
 YOUR masterpieces rich and rare 
 Are priceless and antique ; 
 
 Scopas is represented there, 
 Your ‘ Myrons’ are unique ; 
 
 Reliefs that Phidias’ graver wrought, 
 Cups by Praxiteles, 
 
 ‘Mentors’ by others vainly sought 
 Bear company with these. 
 
 You do not honour Greece alone 
 Nor later work disdain ; 
 
 Here are the finest ‘ Gratians ’ known, 
 There gold inlay from Spain. 
 
 Heirlooms these bas-reliefs must be, 
 They show ancestral taste. 
 How strange—You are a debauchee, 
 But all your plate is chased ! 
 118 
 
BOOK FOUR 
 lh 4 
 TO POSTUMUS 
 
 WHEN the wise Senecas adorned our age 
 
 And Piso’s house with all its lineage, 
 
 To those great patrons you I did prefer ; 
 
 You, a poor knight, to me a consul were. 
 
 Full thirty years have passed since that first day 
 When you and I on the same pallet lay ; 
 
 And now you're rich, an honoured magistrate, 
 With brimming purse :—yet still your gifts I wait. 
 The time has gone another lord to find ; 
 
 Had Fortune known, she had not been so kind. 
 
 XLI 
 LOVWAVDELICALE POET 
 
 ‘Tis but your throat you guard with wool 
 Ere you recite your verse. 
 
 I pray you be more pitiful, 
 Our ears will suffer worse. 
 
 * ALIT 
 
 LORE LAGCUS 
 
 IF any one wishes to give me a slave, 
 I will mention the points I would wish him to have. 
 First of all, I should like him from Egypt to come, 
 For he'll be a sly rogue if the Nile is his home. 
 Let his cheeks too be whiter than snow ; in those lands 
 That colour is rare and its value commands. 
 Let his eyes vie with stars and his hair wanton free 
 O’er his shoulders ; close-braided locks do not please me. 
 Let his forehead be low and his nose aquiline, 
 Let his lips on the roses of Paestum refine. 
 Let him court me unwilling, refuse me when fain, 
 And ever more free than his master remain, 
 For me but a boy, to the world a man grown, 
 Who as friends neither youths nor yet maidens will own. 
 ‘I know him,’ you say,—‘ you need not make this fuss ; 
 The boy that you mean’s my Amazonicus.’ 
 
 119g 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 XLII 
 TO CORACINUS 
 
 CALL you by nature vicious? Nay 
 That hardly needs denying, 
 
 For such a thing I dare not say, 
 Besides, I love not lying. 
 
 From Pontia’s flagon let me sup 
 If e’er I thought or said it, 
 
 Or even share Metilius’ cup, 
 Although the boldest dread it. 
 
 By Cybele’s mad retinue, 
 By every raving minion 
 In Isis’ train, I hold of you 
 The contrary opinion. 
 
 I passed a trifling comment, far 
 From false or injudicious, 
 
 And called you, what you know you are, 
 Unnaturally vicious. 
 
 XLIV 
 ON THE ERUPTION OF VESUVIUS wa 
 
 FAIR were thy shading vines and rich to fill 
 ' The overflowing wine-press year by year, 
 Bacchus hath loved thee more than Nysa’s hill, 
 Vesuvius, for his fauns held revel here ; 
 Sweet Venus held no other haunt so dear, 
 Alcides made thee glorious with his name, 
 Flame-swept art thou, a waste of ashes drear, 
 And heaven remorseful hides its face for shame. 
 
 XLV 
 
 PARTHENIUS MAKES OFFERING TO PHOEBUS 
 ON HIS SON’S FIFTH BIRTTDAS 
 
 TAKE my glad offering, Phoebus ; for my son 
 This fragrant censer have I filled to thee, 
 For now his second lustrum has begun 
 And many a new Olympiad let him see. 
 I20 
 
BOOK FOUR 
 
 Kind be thy tree-love so thou favour me ; 
 In stainless glory let thy sister shine ; 
 
 Yet brighter may thine ageless beauty be 
 And Bromius’ tresses never vie with thine. 
 
 SIAL 
 
 AeA Wek > DAG 
 
 SABELLUS looks haughty ; there’s reason for pride ; 
 He’s made a good harvest this last Christmastide ; 
 And he thinks and declares to the junior Bar 
 That he’s the most lucky of pleaders by far. 
 
 The reasons that make him so puffed up are these, 
 I'll give you the whole catalogue, if you please— 
 To begin with, a half peck of flour and ground rice 
 And a pound and a half of frankincense and spice, 
 Lucanian sausage, Falerian ham, 
 
 And a pot filled with African figs boiled to jam, 
 
 A Syrian flagon of dark syrup wine, 
 
 Fat onions and cheeses and snails really fine ; 
 From a client who lives in Picenum he got 
 
 A box with some olives—a very poor lot— 
 
 A napkin adorned with a senator’s band, 
 
 And seven small cups made to fit in a stand 
 Which a potter had fashioned in Spain far away. 
 And had done quite a deal of embossing—in clay ! 
 No wonder Sabellus feels self-satisfied ; 
 
 He’s beaten the record this last Christmastide. 
 
 AV IT 
 
 Ove PICTURE OF PHAETHON JIN 
 ENCAUSTIC COLOURS 
 
 ENCAUSTIC artist, alter your device ; 
 ‘Tis Phaethon, you should not burn him twice. 
 
 Se VEEL 
 POE ae YE OS 
 
 ‘TLL scream if you touch me ’—exclaimed a pert miss, 
 When her lover attempted an innocent kiss. 
 
 But when he gave up and made ready to go, 
 
 The damsel cried louder— I’ll scream till you do.’ 
 
 iat 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 XLIX 
 
 HOP EBB Wa Sire eae 
 
 WHO sneers at epigrams and feigns to scout them, 
 Believe me, does not know a thing about them. 
 The real bores are the dreary epic spinners 
 
 Who rant of Tereus’ or Thyestes’ dinners, 
 
 Who rave of cunning Daedalus applying 
 
 The wings to Icarus to teach him flying, 
 
 Or else to show what dullards they esteem us 
 Bleat endless pastorals on Polyphemus. 
 
 My unpretentious Muse is not bombastic, 
 
 But deems these robes of Tragedy fantastic. 
 
 ‘ Such things,’ you say, ‘ earn all men’s commendation, 
 As works of genius and inspiration.’ 
 
 Ah, very true—these pompous, classic leaders 
 
 Do get the praise—but then I get the readers ! 
 
 Bs 
 
 COMPARISONS 
 
 THAIS, you say that Iam old. ’Tis true: 
 But how could any be too old for you ? 
 
 ‘Tes E 
 
 LO CAECILIANTS 
 
 WHEN poor, a lordly coach and six 
 Conveyed you everywhere ; 
 
 Then you became by fortune’s tricks 
 A multi-millionaire. 
 
 But though she gave that bulging purse 
 And blindly bade you thrive, 
 
 Your former habits you reverse 
 And ‘ can’t afford to drive.’ 
 
 Tis plain such simple manners earn 
 Reward and not reproach. 
 I'll pray the gods in just return 
 To give you back your coach. 
 122 
 
BOOK FOUR 
 LI 
 
 GESTARI iunctis nisi desinis, Hedyle, capris, 
 Qui modo ficus eras, iam caprificus eris. 
 
 LIIl 
 THE BEGGAR 
 
 SEE that old knave by Pallas’ shrine, 
 He lurks there when the weather’s fine, 
 Or favours, if it chance to rain, 
 
 The doorway of our nearest fane ; 
 With staff and scrip he lounges there 
 With ragged beard and matted hair ; 
 That greasy cloak at night is spread, 
 The only blanket, on his bed. 
 
 He snarls and whines to passers-by 
 Who fling him scraps for charity. 
 You say, misled by signs like these, 
 “Some pupil of Diogenes ’ ? 
 
 Nay, he is no philosopher, 
 
 But less a cynic than a cur. 
 
 LY, 
 
 TO COLLINUS 
 
 - THE wreath of honoured oak is on thy brow, 
 
 Thine is the noblest prize the Muse can give, 
 Well was that guerdon merited, but now 
 
 If thou be wise, Collinus, learn to live. 
 Henceforth forget ambition and begin 
 
 To live each day as though thou hadst but one ; 
 For who has ever moved the maids that spin 
 
 To toil a moment when their task is done ? 
 Were Thrasea’s courage there, with Crispus’ gold 
 
 And Melior’s lavish hand, ’twere all in vain ; 
 For Lachesis should never be cajoled, 
 
 Thy portion done, to turn the wheel again ; 
 The thread her sisters wove, doth she unwind. 
 
 Three are the Fates, and there should ever be 
 One merciless, inexorable mind 
 
 To spurn thy prayer, though two had pitied thee. 
 
 123 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 wea 
 LHES GLORIES (OF VSPA 
 
 Lucius, who art the glory of thy time, 
 
 And wilt not let the splendours of our clime, 
 Tagus and ancient Caius, yield in fame 
 
 To Arpi’s eloquence and ancient name : 
 
 Let those who first in Hellas saw the light, 
 
 Sing of Mycenae and the Thebans’ might, 
 
 Of famous Rhodes and Sparta’s wrestling-game, 
 Where wanton Leda stripped nor thought of shame. 
 But let us Celts, true sons of Spanish soil, 
 
 Blush not for her to spend the midnight oil. 
 
 And bid our Muses boldly to rehearse 
 
 Our country’s rugged names in grateful verse. 
 First, Bilbilis, whose steel doth far outshine 
 
 The Chalyb metal and the Noric mine. 
 
 Then Platea, which restless Salo rings, 
 
 Noisy with iron, and keen temper brings 
 
 To her sharp swords ; and Rixamae’s fair plains, 
 Where with the god to guide the gay dance reigns. 
 Then Carduae, whose revels fill the night, 
 
 And Peteris with rosy garlands bright, 
 
 And Rigae, where our fathers played of old, 
 And Silaé so skilled the spear to hold. 
 Turguntum’s lake, Perusia’s still mere, 
 
 And little Tuetonissa’s shallows clear, 
 
 The oaks of Buradon, the god’s own place, 
 Which even lazy travellers love to pace, 
 
 The fields of Vativesca on the hills 
 
 Which Manlius with sturdy bullocks tills. 
 Perhaps at this some dainty reader smiled, 
 
 And said—‘ My friend, these names are rather wild,’ 
 They may be so indeed, but I aver 
 
 That these to your Butonti I prefer. 
 
 Via 
 TRUE IGEN EROSTIO 
 
 You generous ! Some childless crone 
 Or dotard you propitiate ; 
 
 What meaner knave was ever known ? 
 The angler’s trick you emulate ; 
 When witless creatures take the bait, 
 
 Is that a gift ? Then yours may be ; 
 The better way to indicate 
 
 Your claim is this—to give to me. 
 
 124 
 
BOOK FOUR 
 SeUVil 
 
 Omer AUolI NUS 
 
 WHILE near the wanton Lucrine I delay 
 
 And in warm springs by rocky caverns play, 
 You dwell, Faustinus, twenty miles from town, 
 Where once Catillus did his kingdom own. 
 
 But now when Leo burns with furious ire 
 
 And Baiae glows with more than native fire, 
 Farewell, ye pleasant shores, ye sacred wells, 
 Where Nereid with Nymph united dwells. 
 Surpass our heights in winter, if you will : 
 
 But in the summer yield to Tibur’s hill. 
 
 pee VILT 
 
 TO GALLA 
 
 IT is not your ‘man’ that you mourn, but your ‘ spouse’ ; 
 For the open truth modesty scarcely allows. 
 
 1 bh be, 4 
 
 ON A SNAKE IN AMBER 
 
 A VIPER crept along a poplar bough, 
 
 When lo, the amber drops that therefrom flow 
 With clinging moisture stayed her on her way 
 And fettered by the gum congealed she lay. 
 Let Cleopatra boast no more her grave, 
 
 When tiny vipers such a burial have. 
 
 EX. 
 
 Peril LOMB OF CURIATIUS AT TIBUR 
 
 Now must we say, if thou be wise 
 In summer’s heat to Ardea turn, 
 Or seek the plain where Castrum lies 
 
 And the hot stars of Leo burn. 
 
 He that is laid in yonder grave 
 Saith, ‘ Tarry not but get thee gone.’ 
 Here sought he Arno’s healing wave, 
 But found the stream of Acheron ? 
 125 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Yet what shall stay the march of death ? 
 When he is come and calleth thee, 
 Sardinia’s fever-laden breath 
 Shall taint the air of Tivoli. 
 
 bP Gl 
 TO MANCINUS 
 
 Last week you came up with a smile of content, 
 
 And whispered— Two thousand a friend just has sent.’ 
 While three days ago, when we met at the club, 
 
 You said, as I happened your mantle to rub, 
 
 —‘ That’s a gift from Pompulla ; it cost eighty pound ’— 
 Then displayed a sardonyx with lines all around 
 
 And two rings beside, both with green jewels set, 
 
 —‘ These are gifts that from Bassa and Caelia I get.’ 
 And again in the theatre last night you went out 
 
 While Pollio was playing, but found time to shout, 
 
 —‘ A friend has bequeathed me three thousand by will— 
 And to-day there’s been two other legacies still.’ 
 
 What wrong have we done you, who treat you as friend ? 
 Have pity and make of this boasting an end. 
 
 Or if you can’t silence your tongue, as I fear, 
 
 At least tell us something that’s pleasant to hear. 
 
 bade | Bp G8 
 AM BEAUIY @RECTEE 
 
 Lycoris to Tibur has taken her flight ; 
 For she fancies that everything there becomes white. 
 
 ce ADD.G EM 
 LOSCAR RE iia 
 
 ALAS, poor mother, as you made your way 
 
 Across from Bauli to fair Baiae’s bay 
 
 A tempest whelmed you ’neath the frenzied sea, 
 
 Which lost that day its name for piety. 
 
 Fierce Nero bade these waves his mother drown ; 
 
 They loathed such guilt, nor feared the tyrant’s frown. 
 126 
 
BOOK FOUR 
 
 meUSLV 
 
 COUNTRY IN TOWN 
 
 THE fields that Julius my namesake know 
 For owner, though they be but few, I trow, 
 On the Janiculum more happy rest 
 
 Than all the fabled islands of the blest. 
 
 Their sheltered acres from the hills rise high, 
 Whose level summit takes the clearer sky, 
 And even when thick mists the valley drown 
 It shines with brightness that is all its own, 
 While in the night the farmhouse gables seem 
 To lift to heaven to catch the starry gleam. 
 On this side, you may see the Seven Hills 
 And mark the space that our great city fills, 
 The heights of Tusculum and Alba’s home 
 And all the cool suburban haunts of Rome, 
 Red Roofs, and old Fidenae, and the trees 
 Where with a maiden’s blood we Anna please. 
 On that, the Flaminian and Salarian way 
 Their noiseless stream of travellers display, 
 Whose distant wheels disturb not your repose, 
 And though near by the sacred Tiber flows 
 Beneath the Milvian Bridge, no bargemen’s noise 
 Nor sailors’ shout breaks in upon your joys. 
 Whether ’tis country or a town estate, 
 
 Its master most doth grace it, and his gate 
 
 Is ever open, generous and free ; 
 
 You'ld think it might your own dominion be. 
 Alcinotis was not a kinder host, 
 
 Molorchus could not readier welcome boast. 
 Let those who this a tiny cot suppose, 
 
 Till all Praeneste with a hundred hoes, 
 
 Give to one tenant Setia on the hill, 
 
 But let me choose my friend’s few acres still. 
 
 LXV 
 A PARADOX 
 
 SHE weeps from but one eye! How is it done ? 
 Quite easily. Philaenis has but one. 
 
 127 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 LXVI 
 THERCOUN TR yee re 
 
 Linus, the country ever was your home, 
 
 How cheap that life, how costly ours in Rome ! 
 You shake the creases of your toga out, 
 
 Say once amonth. A single suit, no doubt, 
 Will last ten seasons ere its work be done— 
 Though at the first ’twas not a costly one ; 
 Your woods provide a boar, your fields a hare! 
 To meet your simple needs ; for richer fare 
 You beat the copse for thrushes, and of fish 
 Your river yields you freely many a dish. 
 
 No costly wines imported from afar 
 
 You ever need to fill your Samian jar ; 
 
 No slave from dainty Greece doth call you lord, 
 But home-bred clowns attend your rustic board ; 
 From fire and drought your house and lands are free, 
 You never lost or risked a ship at sea ; 
 
 At knuckle-bones you stake a nut or two 
 
 But keep the guileful dice-box far from you ; 
 Your mother too, whose passion was to hoard, 
 Left you a million, yet you can’t afford 
 
 To spend or give—’Tis gone, so you aver. 
 Untouched, yet gone ? You are a conjurer. 
 
 tH 8 NB 
 “RICH TO HIMSELF, BUT TO HIS COMRADES FOCKs 
 
 GAURUS, a poor but ancient friend, 
 
 Said to the preetor—‘ Will you lend 
 
 One thousand to me, for my three 
 
 Will then a sum sufficient be 
 
 That in the circus I may take my seat, 
 And as a knight our Emperor duly greet.’ 
 
 To him the preetor answer made— 
 “JT cannot help you, I’m afraid ; 
 For to my jockeys I bestow 
 More than the sum you say you owe.’ 
 Shame on that thankless purse, I fain would cry ; 
 You give to horses—and to knights deny. 
 128 
 
BOOK FOUR 
 LXVIII 
 TOSS ESL US 
 
 YOURSELF you dine in great magnificence, 
 
 And give your guest the worth of twenty pence ; 
 Say, Sextus, did you ask me here to-night 
 
 To jog my envy or my appetite ? 
 
 LXIX 
 A DOUBTFUL VINTAGE 
 
 SETINE and Massic at your board abound, 
 
 Yet some aver your wine is hardly sound ; 
 *Twas this relieved you of four wives they say ; 
 A libel—but I will not dine to-day. 
 
 LXX 
 ON AMMIANUS 
 
 HE wishes that his sire were living still, 
 
 ‘Tis strange, but with the truth I do not palter ; 
 The reason is he read that father’s will 
 
 And found his only legacy a halter. 
 
 LL. 8 
 TO RUFUS 
 
 I’vE searched through all the town to find 
 
 A maiden of reluctant mind, 
 
 And yet in Rome I can’t discover 
 
 One girl who will refuse a lover. 
 
 Is it considered base and low 
 
 For any maid to murmur ‘ no’ ? 
 
 Or is it by the law forbid ? 
 
 I never met a girl who did. 
 
 ‘And can one find no modest fair ? ’ 
 
 You ask—a thousand anywhere. 
 
 ‘ These coyer damsels, what do they ? ’ 
 
 Why, mean the ‘ yes’ they do not say. 
 129 I 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 LXXII 
 PRESENTATION COPIES 
 
 You want a copy of my works you say ; 
 
 I can’t supply it—but the bookshops may. 
 
 ‘What ? waste your coin on trash ? ’ you make reply, 
 ‘Ama fool?’ No, Quintus; nor am I. 
 
 SIXT 
 A NOBLE END 
 
 VESTINUS was ill and drew near his last breath, 
 
 A traveller bound for the waters beneath, 
 
 When he prayed the dark sisters to hold back the thread 
 And grant him a respite ere he should lie dead. 
 
 His words moved the Fates, for it was as a friend 
 
 He was thinking of others, not of his own end. 
 
 He shared out his wealth as in bed he did lie, 
 
 And then was content, like an old man, to die. 
 
 BAW, OG EY 
 A SIRANGE SIGHT IN THE Cikgi 
 
 SEE how the timid deer the strife essay, 
 
 What anger stirs them to the deadly fray. 
 
 Each doe with brow unhorned her rival wounds ; 
 If you would save them, sire, set on the hounds. 
 
 dh GY 
 TO NIGRINA 
 
 O BLEST in soul and in your husband blest, 
 Of Latin wives the noblest now confessed, 
 Content to share the wealth your father gave 
 And grant your spouse his own due part to have. 
 Let fair Evadne grace her husband’s pyre, 
 Alcestis to immortal fame aspire ; 
 You have done better, for in life you prove 
 By certain pledge the sureness of your love. 
 
 130 
 
BOOK FOUR 
 * LXXVI 
 A MULTIPLICATION SUM 
 
 I ASKED you a loan of one hundred to send, 
 
 But you say that you only have fifty to lend. 
 Well, now in the future I know what to do; 
 When I want just a hundred, I’ll ask you for two. 
 
 LXXVII 
 
 ON ZOILUS 
 
 CONTENTED with my little store, 
 I’ve never asked the gods for more ; 
 Now, Poverty, retire. 
 Why have I grown so covetous ? 
 Because I know that Zoilus 
 Will hang himself for ire. 
 
 SOLAN VII 
 
 TO AFER 
 
 Your sixtieth summer has passed, you old frisker, 
 
 And your cheeks are snow-white with a forest of whisker, 
 But yet you go gadding all over the city, 
 
 And at each sedan-chair every morning are witty. 
 
 When a tribune appears, you are sure to attend him, 
 
 If a consul comes out, then your escort you lend him ; 
 Ten times to the palace you climb the steep hill, 
 
 And your talk is of nothing but chamberlains still. 
 Young men may behave in this fashion no doubt ; 
 
 But there’s nothing looks worse than an old gadabout. 
 
 Pex ATX 
 
 TO MATHO 
 
 OF my villa at Tibur you now are possessed, 
 And reside in the house where you oft were a guest. 
 You have bought it from me and have paid the cash down : 
 Well, you’re gulled; what you’ve bought was already your 
 own. 
 131 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 FD 
 TO MARON 
 
 You’RE burning with fever, but still you recite ; 
 
 If you don’t see you’re mad, then you're really not right. 
 
 If you want to perspire, no more’s to be said ; 
 
 But a tertian ague should see you in bed. 
 
 ‘It’s important,’ you say. Nay, in that you're quite wrong ; 
 It’s important in fevers to keep a still tongue. 
 
 VID OO.4 
 “CIRCUMSTANCES ALTER CASE ae 
 
 FABULLA had read what I wrote long ago, 
 
 Complaining that girls don’t know when to say ‘ no.’ 
 
 So when for her favours I humbly applied, 
 
 Once, twice, and three times my request was denied. 
 Noes should not be final, I freely confess : 
 
 There’s a time, dear Fabulla, when girls should say ‘ yes.’ 
 
 dol ED. Bt 
 TORRES 
 
 To Venuleius these two books commend, 
 
 And beg that he to us his leisure lend 
 
 As kindly critic, nor for business care, 
 
 And for these trifles his attention spare. 
 
 But give them to him midway through the feast, 
 Not when it starts nor when it just has ceased ; 
 And if two seem too much, then split the ream ; 
 The work divided thus will briefer seem. 
 
 BD... 008 
 TO NAEVOLUS 
 
 YouR manners are horrid, when business goes right ; 
 We are slaves, left ungreeted, mere dogs in your sight. 
 But when you're in trouble they’re quite superfine ; 
 Then it’s ‘ master,’ © good sir,’ “ pray come with me to dine.’ 
 I’m your friend, my dear fellow, and don’t wish you ill : 
 But I hope that you stay in adversity still. 
 
 ba 
 
BOOK FOUR 
 LXXXIV 
 
 NON est in populo nec urbe tota 
 
 A se Thaida qui probet fututam, 
 
 Cum multi cupiant rogentque multi. 
 Tam casta est, rogo, Thais ? immo fellat. 
 
 <j 1DD.D.D, Qi 
 DO CON DTG Us. 
 
 Your guests’ cups are glass, but your own’s alabaster, 
 And so we can’t see what wine’s served to the master. 
 
 TEXAXAVI 
 TO HIS BOOK 
 
 IF you desire to please an Attic taste, 
 
 I warn you to Apollinaris haste, 
 
 And try to win him, for you will not find 
 
 A man more learned or a man more kind. 
 
 If he shall take you to his heart and lips, 
 
 You need not fear base jealousy’s eclipse, 
 
 Nor will you serve, like a condemned man’s sheet, 
 To wrap up mackerel in every street. 
 
 But if he frowns, then you must take your way 
 And lie exposed on the fishmonger’s tray, 
 
 That salted herrings in you may be tied, 
 
 And children scrawl upon your other side. 
 
 Pew A VILL 
 LOMAS UIT US 
 
 Your Bassa continually has by her seat 
 
 A baby ; she calls it her popsy and sweet. 
 
 And yet she’s not partial to children I find ; 
 
 The reason? Poor Bassa is troubled with wind. 
 
 133 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 * LXXXVIIL 
 QUID PRO QUO 
 
 SATURN’S feast is past and gone, 
 And of gifts from you not one ; 
 Not an ounce of silver-plate, 
 Nor a napkin, brought of late 
 By a disappointed friend, 
 
 For my present;did you send. 
 Not a jar with fish-sauce red, 
 Into which a tunny bled ; 
 
 No dry olives in a pottle, 
 
 From Picenum, nor a bottle 
 
 Of small Syrian figs to be 
 
 Sign that you remembered me. 
 Other people you may cheat, 
 Smiling at them when you meet ; 
 But you won’t gull me again, 
 For your trickery is plain. 
 
 LXXXIX 
 FINIS 
 
 HO Lp, little book, enough, enough ! 
 Here is the end of the scroll and thee ; 
 Stay thy course ere the path grow rough, 
 Keep thy bounds for thou art not free, 
 Many thy sheets, though one should be 
 Ample space for thy sorry stuff. 
 Hold, little book, enough, enough ! 
 Here is the end of the scroll and thee. 
 Wearied readers are harsh and gruff, 
 Now are they tired of thee and me ; 
 Soon thou shalt meet a rude rebuff, 
 List to the worn-out scrivener’s plea ; 
 ‘ Hold, little book, enough, enough ! ’ 
 
 134 
 

 
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BOOK FIVE 
 wi AI 
 TO DOMITIAN 
 
 WHETHER on Alba’s hills, great sire, thou be, 
 And hence Diana, thence fair Thetis, see ; 
 
 Or where near Rome the Ocean’s levels sleep, 
 The fateful sisters do thy answers keep ; 
 Whether green Circé, the sun’s fairest child, 
 Or great Aeneas’ nurse holds thee beguiled, 
 Or gleaming Anxur with health-giving stream— 
 I send this book to thee, whose life we deem 
 By grateful Jove is guarded to the end, 
 
 Our country’s saviour, helper, keeper, friend. 
 Receive it, sire ; then I’ll be satisfied 
 
 And think you read it, in my Gallic pride. 
 
 II 
 LAE ei bOOUS” PRINCE 
 
 Boys, matrons, gentle maids, for you 
 This modest little book is fit ; 
 My earlier pages search anew, 
 Ye that rejoice in wanton wit, 
 But this for Caesar’s eye was writ, 
 And dare not face a sovereign’s frown ; 
 He shall not blush reciting it 
 Before the maid of Cecrops’ Town. 
 
 Lia 
 A NEARER GOD 
 
 AFAR from Ister’s subject tide 
 That laves his Dacian home, 
 
 The envoy Degis dwells beside 
 The royal stream of Rome ; 
 
 The guardian of the world he saw, 
 Then turned he wondering, 
 
 Inspired with joy and raptured awe, 
 And hailed his absent king— 
 
 ‘ Brother, the fates have favoured me, 
 Born ‘neath a happy star ; 
 
 For close at hand the God I see 
 You worship from afar.’ 
 
 137 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 IV 
 THE DISGUISE 
 
 THE fumes of over-frequent cups to hide 
 
 With scented bay her wine is qualified, 
 
 For simple water suits not Myrtale ; 
 
 But when full veins and staggering gait you see, 
 You need not say, by outward signs misled, 
 “She looks on Bacchus’ wine when it is red.’ 
 ’Tis just as true and more polite to say, 
 
 ‘Our lady friend doth love Apollo’s bay.’ 
 
 V 
 
 TO SEXTUS, KEEPER OF Si 
 PALATINE LIBRARY 
 
 "TIs yours to worship at Minerva’s shrine, 
 And yours to share a Caesar’s thought divine, 
 To read his secret soul and watch the birth 
 Of cares that move the guardian of the earth. 
 I pray you find a corner for my work, 
 
 Where Pedo, Marsus, and Catullus lurk ; 
 
 No book, save it be Virgil’s, dares to stand 
 Beside the epic of the Master hand. 
 
 VI 
 THE AUTHOR'S PETITION 
 
 ONE easy favour grant, ye heavenly nine, 
 
 Say to Parthenius—is he not your friend >— 
 ‘Thine be long life with happy age, and thine, 
 
 While Caesar still doth reign, a happy end ; 
 And thou shalt live by envy unmaligned ; 
 
 Right soon thy babe shall know his father’s worth, 
 If for this modest book a place thou find 
 
 Within the holiest chamber on the earth. 
 Thou know’st when, ’mid the labours of a throne 
 
 Our Jove doth pause to rest him of his task, 
 And beams with kindly glances all his own 
 
 To grant the boons that lowly suppliants ask. 
 
 138 
 
BOOK 
 
 Fear not this little client to protect ; 
 Who comes in cedar and in purple dressed 
 In seemly wise, with ebon bosses decked, 
 Shall never make an insolent request. 
 Hold back the purple book and make no sign 
 That thou hast aught to proffer or submit.’ 
 But if I know your lord, ye heavenly nine, 
 He needs no prompting, but shall ask for it. 
 
 Vil 
 
 THE NEW ROME 
 
 Tue Phoenix from the flaming pyre 
 Renewed to life appears, 
 
 Sprung from the ashes of a sire 
 Who lived. a thousand years. 
 
 Reflecting Caesar’s grace to-day, 
 To youth and life reborn, 
 
 Our Rome renewed doth put away 
 Her aspect old and worn. 
 
 ” O God of fire, thy wrongs forget, 
 Thine ancient wrath eschew, 
 The folk of Mars are we, and yet 
 Sweet Venus’ children too. 
 
 Spare us, our father, so may she 
 Forgive the Lemnian bond, 
 
 Content henceforth to dwell with thee 
 A loyal spouse and fond. 
 
 PVT 
 
 MiVeOUNELBASANT SORPRISE 
 
 OurR master’s edict and divine command, 
 Whereby the theatre-seats in order stand 
 
 And his due place is given to each knight, 
 Phasis was praising clad in purple bright. 
 
 With swelling pride he puffed and loudly said— 
 “Now to us knights our proper honour’s paid. 
 At length to sit at ease we are allowed, 
 
 Not soiled nor elbowed by the greasy crowd.’ 
 
 139 
 
 FIVE 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 He would perhaps have made a long oration, 
 Elated by his novel situation ; 
 
 But Léitus his periods put to rout, 
 
 And to his purple mantle said—‘ Get out.’ 
 
 IX 
 THE MASTER-PHYSICIAN 
 
 I was out of sorts—not like to die— 
 Till swift to my bedside flew 
 Symmachus, fever’s best ally, 
 And a hundred pupils too ; 
 A hundred hands with the north-wind chill 
 Pawed me, until I vow 
 That, though till he came I was not ill, 
 I shiver with ague now. 
 
 xX 
 LO REGULUS 
 
 ‘ FAME comes not to the living. Strange!’ you say, 
 “ How few can love the artists of their day ! ’ 
 
 The cause is this, that envy’s cross-eyed view 
 
 Will always set the old above the new. 
 
 Thus haunt we Pompey’s ancient porch—and thus 
 Fools praise the crumbled fanes of Catulus. 
 
 So Virgil’s Rome pored still o’er Ennius’ page, 
 And Homer lived unhonoured of his age ; 
 
 Few were his peers to laud Menander’s plays ; 
 Who save Corinna knew her Ovid’s lays ? 
 
 Yet soft, my books, no haste, nor hurry fate ; 
 
 If fame must wait on death, then let it wait. 
 
 XI 
 IR OVI Me Bee TOR Me IL 
 
 TuaT diamond, emerald, and sard 
 Adorn my Stella’s hand, 
 That jaspers bright should deck the bard 
 I well can understand. 
 140 
 
-BOOK FIVE 
 
 For as he set a lovely lay 
 With jewels bright and rare, 
 
 A few escaped, and these are they 
 That now his hand doth wear. 
 
 XII 
 
 ROMEO Ee SAM E 
 
 THouGH Masclion lifts a monstrous tree 
 And struts about quite gaily, 
 
 Tis nothing to the feat I see 
 My Stella doing daily. 
 
 Can Ninus lift six boys or eight 
 When all his might he uses ? 
 
 Why, Stella’s finger bears the weight 
 Of Pallas and the Muses ! 
 
 XIII 
 
 TOPCALEISERATUS 
 
 THouGH I am poor and always have been so, 
 A Knight am I and honour can I claim. 
 Men say, ‘ Tis Martial ’ wheresoever I go, 
 Few, after death, have won so great a name. 
 Upon your pillared palace hangs your fame. 
 Your coffers—since your master made you free— 
 Have bulged with growing wealth ; you hold in fee 
 Half Egypt, own vast flocks in Gaul afar. 
 Yet what I am that you can never be, 
 While any clown might well be what you are. 
 
 29.0 IL 
 
 A THEATRE INCIDENT 
 
 NANNEIUS was wont in the days long ago 
 
 To capture a place in the very front row ; 
 
 But now they won’t let him, and so yesterday 
 
 When he’d moved once or twice, he devised a new way. 
 
 141 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 He covered his face with his cloak, save one eye 
 Wherewith he contrived at the players to spy ; 
 
 And wishing to make the best of a bad job 
 
 Crouched down ’twixt the seats just behind Hob and Nob. 
 Ejected from here, to the end of a seat 
 
 That faced on the gangway, he beat a retreat, 
 Half-standing, half-squatting, with infinite labour 
 
 To cheat both Léitus and his next-door neighbour. 
 
 XV 
 
 THE AUTHOR’S REWARD 
 
 ‘Tis my fifth book of merry verse, 
 Yet no man has protested, 
 
 Or said he is one whit the worse, 
 So gently I have jested. 
 
 But many a reader finds his name 
 Is honoured in my pages, 
 
 And these rejoice to know their fame 
 Will last throughout the ages. 
 
 “Such tributes all are profitless, 
 For no one will requite them ’— 
 
 They bring no money, I confess, 
 And yet I love to write them. 
 
 XVI 
 A FRIENDLY HINT. 
 
 You understand the quips, the gay retort, 
 And I pervert my Muse to make you sport, 
 But when you read and quote my verses, pray 
 Think of the wealth that might be mine to-day, 
 Had I but sold my tongue to plead in court ; 
 What client’s fees, what gifts I might extort, 
 What casks of wine from many a foreign port ; 
 But this I lost to frolic in a way 
 You understand. 
 
 I jest for no reward ; must I exhort 
 You further ? Well, was fame the only sort 
 Of fee that singers won in Maro’s day ? 
 ‘ We love your verse and give you praise,’ you say. 
 That all? Then I must plead, unless—in short 
 You understand ? 
 
 142 
 
BOOK FIVE 
 
 XVII 
 
 A MESALLIANCE 
 
 SHE said her traditions had taught her 
 That she as a nobleman’s daughter 
 Couldn’t marry a Knight, 
 Tho’ a Baron she might, 
 And then she eloped with a porter. 
 
 XVIII 
 TO QUINTIANUS 
 
 ‘Tis the season when we send 
 Little gifts from friend to friend, 
 Tablets, kerchiefs without end, 
 Slender spoons ; 
 Tapers too are popular, 
 And from Syrian lands afar, 
 You may get a narrow jar 
 Full of prunes. 
 
 Do I seem to you unkind ? 
 
 Do I show a stingy mind 
 
 If my offering is confined 
 To my book ? 
 
 Nay, let others calculate ; 
 
 "Tis an artifice I hate 
 
 When a present is a bait 
 On a hook ? 
 
 When the char with greedy eye 
 Sees the lure go floating by, 
 He is taken by the fly, 
 
 And it’s plain 
 If I do not give at all 
 To the rich, my purse is small, 
 So ’tis truly liberal 
 
 To abstain. 
 
 2d 19,6 
 
 TO DOMITIAN 
 
 IF we may trust the truth, this age of thine, 
 Great sire, in fame doth all the past outshine. 
 When could we look on triumphs better gained ? 
 When have the gods more duly thanks obtained ? 
 
 143 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Beneath what chief was Rome so fair to see ? 
 Under what prince enjoyed such liberty ? 
 
 One fault there is and grievous, though but one ; 
 
 A poor man gets no thanks for service done. 
 
 Who gives his wealth to old and loyal friends ? 
 Who, when you’ve made him knight, his escort lends ? 
 At Saturn’s feast to give some silver spoons 
 
 Or yellow toga worth a few half-crowns 
 
 Our millionaires to-day most generous think, 
 
 And never let us hear the sovereigns chink. 
 
 Be thou, great sire, my friend and take their place : 
 No virtue more thy majesty could grace. 
 
 Methinks you smile and say with wrinkled nose— 
 ‘For his own profit he advice bestows.’ 
 
 XX 
 10 JULIOSEMARTIALLS 
 
 Ir I might spend 
 
 My hours with you, dear friend, 
 
 Care-free, at ease 
 
 To do what I should please, 
 
 And could dispose 
 
 My leisure as I chose, 
 
 The pomp and state 
 
 Of mansions of the great 
 
 Should we disown, 
 
 And law-courts’ dreary drone, 
 
 All wordy strife, 
 
 And pride and show of life. 
 
 To drive or walk, 
 
 To bathe, enjoy a talk, 
 
 Toy with a book 
 
 Within some shady nook 
 
 Or portico 
 
 Where purling waters flow, 
 
 These should comprise 
 
 Our tasks if we were wise. 
 
 To you and me 
 
 Life is not full ; we see 
 
 The good days fly 
 
 And, ah, how grievously 
 
 Their sum doth mount, 
 
 Set all to our account ; 
 
 Why dally we 
 
 Who know what life should be ? 
 144 
 
BOOK FIVE 
 XXI 
 PELMANISM 
 
 No name of old could he recall, 
 But always mixed them thus, 
 
 A Mr. Gross was Mr. Small, 
 And Quintus Decimus ; 
 
 But now his greetings are correct, 
 Each name he rightly quotes ; 
 How much can care and toil effect, 
 
 He learned them from his notes ! 
 
 er LL 
 LOPeACLUS 
 
 IF I did not this morning deserve your ‘ good day,’ 
 May your Esquiline house be still further away. 
 
 But I by the Tiburtine column reside, 
 
 Where the temple of Flora has Jove by its side, 
 
 And thence from Suburra the steep hill I climb, 
 
 The path dirty stones and all reeking with grime, 
 Where it’s no easy matter to get through a drove 
 
 Of mules pulling hard as the marble they move, 
 
 And what is much worse, when at last I have come, 
 Worn out to your house, all I get’s—‘* Not at home.’ 
 That is all my reward for a walk in the rain, 
 
 And it’s scarce worth the trouble this journey in vain. 
 You're so busy yourself your friends on you can’t wait: 
 So you won't be my patron unless you sleep late. 
 
 XXIII 
 THE KNIGHT'S PRIVILEGE 
 
 You sat where’er you chose in raiment coarse, 
 What time the slumbering law you dared to slight ; 
 But now our censor doth that law enforce, 
 And stern Oceanus maintains the right, 
 You flaunt in purple and in scarlet bright. 
 Can that deceive us? Nay, the chance is small. 
 If clothes could prove the title of a knight, 
 Cordus had won his spurs before us all. 
 
 145 K 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 ETO LV 
 
 THE PRIDESOR SAE his 
 
 HERMES the Martial darling of our day, 
 Hermes well-skilled in every kind of fray, 
 Hermes a fighter-teacher, both in one, 
 Hermes whom Helius fears and fears alone, 
 Hermes before whom Advolans falls mute, 
 Hermes himself his only substitute, 
 
 Hermes to whom his frightened pupils bow, 
 Hermes who wins nor needs to strike a blow, 
 Hermes from whom the theatre wealth derives, 
 Hermes the bane of gladiators’ wives, 
 Hermes the joy of lady-connoisseurs, 
 
 Hermes whose spear the victory ensures, 
 Hermes terrific with his drooping crest, 
 Hermes whose trident lays the foe to rest, 
 Hermes who does each kind of fighting grace, 
 Hermes in all unique, the triple ace. 
 
 * XXV 
 THE EQUESTRIAN CENSUS 
 
 You’vE not got three thousand, my friend, so make haste ; 
 Léitus is coming, you’ve no time to waste. 
 
 Up quick, run away : or perhaps some kind friend 
 
 To you of his superabundance will lend. 
 
 Whom now shall I put on the record of glory, 
 
 So that after his death men may still read his story ? 
 Would not this be true virtue and far better done 
 
 Than to make all the theatre with red saffron run. 
 
 Or to give the three thousand to some senseless gee 
 
 That Scorpus his nose all of gold we may see ? 
 
 Dissemblers of friendship! Your wealth you won’t use, 
 Though you read this and praise it. What glory you lose ! 
 
 XXVI 
 
 f GLASSES 
 
 “A DANDY patron, quality AI,’ 
 Tis true I called you so ; twas only fun. 
 But if you think that I insulted you, 
 Call me ‘a seedy client, class Bz.’ 
 
 146 
 
BOOK FIVE 
 XXVIT 
 
 THE INTRUDER 
 
 Your culture, manners, birth, and wit 
 Are worthy knighthood, I admit ; 
 
 But, seeing you have not our rights, 
 Why choose the benches of the knights ? 
 Is it worth while to blench with fear 
 Whene’er you see the usher near ? 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 ENVY 
 
 WHATEVER you may be or do 
 
 Evil he thinks and speaks of you ; 
 *Twere nothing tho’ you soared above 
 The Curii in filial love ; 
 
 Though yours were Nerva’s gentle mind, 
 As Macer’s just, as Ruso’s kind, 
 
 As Junius upright, with the wit 
 
 Of Paulus added on to it, 
 
 And Regulus’ persuasive skill, 
 
 His envious fangs would gnaw you still. 
 Is that the sort of man you call 
 
 A common peril to us all ? 
 
 Nay, who belittles all men thus 
 
 Can only hurt himself, not us. 
 
 XXIX 
 
 Senile LROOP OF THE PUDDING’ 
 
 WHENE’ER you send a hare, my friend, 
 You quote the saw anew, 
 
 “Who eats a hare must needs be fair 
 At least a day or two’ ; 
 
 And yet in sooth if that be truth, 
 Not merely wanton fun, 
 
 ’Tis very clear that you, my dear, 
 Have never eaten one. 
 
 147 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 XXX 
 TO VARRO WITH HIS BOOK 
 
 ALTHOUGH with Sophocles thou share the bays, 
 Though matchless be thy touch on Roman lyre, 
 Away with work, nor read Catullus’ plays, 
 Awhile bid trim-tressed Elegy retire ; 
 I send my verse to cheer thee at the fire 
 A comrade meet at Saturn’s festival, 
 Unless thou deem the season doth require 
 But merry games nor any book at all. 
 
 oF DO. | 
 
 THE ACKOBA Ts 
 
 SEE how they leap, the acrobatic crowd, 
 
 And how the placid bull accepts the load. 
 
 One clasps his horns, one on his broad back stands 
 Brandishing shield and sword with careless hands. 
 The fierce beast stays unmoved, nor, could the plain 
 Give surer foothold or more firm remain. 
 
 The boys have naught to fear: the bull indeed 
 Himself is more concerned they should succeed. 
 
 XXXII 
 
 THE SPENDIGORIFI 3S folage 
 
 He didn’t leave his wife a sou—why not ? 
 He had but one and that he still has got. 
 
 © ASL 
 THE] CRIAIG 
 
 A CERTAIN young lawyer, I hear people say, 
 
 Runs down my poor books in the most scornful way. 
 
 I don’t know the name of this legal top-sawyer, 
 
 But when I find out—heaven help you, young lawyer ! 
 pata 
 
BOOK FIVE 
 
 XXXIV 
 FOR EROTION’S GRAVE 
 
 TuHovu Mother dear and thou my Father’s shade, 
 To you I now commit the gentle maid, 
 
 Erotion, my little love, my sweet ; 
 
 Let not her shuddering spirit fear to meet 
 The ghosts, but soothe her lest she be afraid. 
 How should a baby heart be undismayed 
 To pass the lair where Cerberus is laid ? 
 
 The little six-year maiden gently greet. 
 Dear reverend spirits, give her kindly aid 
 And let her play in some Elysian glade, 
 
 Lisping my name sometimes—and I entreat 
 
 Lie softly on her, kindly earth ; her feet, 
 Such tiny feet, on thee were lightly laid. 
 
 og iO OA") 
 Pee ee ROGDEIPORTER 
 
 WHEN Léitus came up to our rich high-born knight, 
 
 And said— Now get out ; to that seat you’ve no right ’— 
 Euclides in scarlet did loudly declare 
 
 That his farms brought him in sixteen hundred a year 
 
 At Patrae, and from his Corinthian land 
 
 A still larger revenue he could command. 
 
 But as he was drawing a long pedigree 
 
 From Leda, there fell from his pocket—a key. 
 
 It was really most awkward to be so betrayed, 
 
 For every one knew now our boasting friend’s trade. 
 
 XXXVI 
 INGRATITUDE 
 
 I PRAISED him in a book of mine ; 
 He feigns he does not know it ; 
 That ignorance is but the sign 
 He means to cheat the poet. 
 
 149 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 * XXXVII 
 EROTION 
 
 A CHILD more sweet-voiced than a swan full-grown, 
 Softer than all Galaesus’ lamb’s-wool down, 
 
 More dainty than the shells from Lucrine meres, 
 More fair than new-cut ivory appears, 
 
 Or Red Sea stones, or snow, or lilies white, 
 
 Whose locks than Baetic fleeces shine more bright 
 And could the dormouse and Rhine’s knots surpass, 
 Whose breath than Paestan roses sweeter was, 
 
 Or Attic honey, or an amber ball 
 
 Snatched from a maiden’s hand and warm withal, 
 Compared with whom a peacock’s hues were pale, 
 Squirrels seemed clumsy, and a phoenix stale— 
 
 My little love-bird, my Erotion, 
 
 Lies in the pyre still warm ; her life is done ; 
 
 Six winters had not passed above her head 
 
 When fate relentless struck my playmate dead. 
 
 And yet friend Paetus bids me not to grieve— 
 “ My wife,’ he cries, ‘is buried, but I live. 
 
 And she was rich and proud, of lineage brave. 
 Why weep so sorely for a little slave ?’ 
 
 And therewithal, to show his heartfelt pain, 
 He beats his breast and tears his hair again. 
 How brave is Paetus. He endures his life: 
 And yet he’s got a fortune from his wife. 
 
 XXXVIII 
 A LESSON FROM MYTHAHOLOGS 
 
 You claim a knighthood ? True, your purse might bear it, 
 But then you have a brother who must share it ; 
 To halve your paltry means were foolish, very, 
 Who takes two bites at such a paltry cherry ° 
 One horse for both won’t do—the scheme’s a mad one. 
 Plague on your brother! Had you never had one, 
 You might be Castor ; Pollux makes the trouble, 
 For though you count as one, you can’t sit double ; 
 To say “ unus sedemus ’ makes one stammer, 
 It isn’t common sense—or even grammar. 
 Follow the plan of Leda’s sons—your brother 
 Might be a knight one day and you another. 
 
 150 
 
BOOK FIVE 
 
 XXXIX 
 DISAPPOINTED HOPES 
 
 FULL thirty times this year you’ve signed a will, 
 And every time I send you dainties rare 
 
 With scented honey fresh from Hybla’s hill ; 
 I can’t go on—my purse and feelings spare ! 
 To make so many wills is hardly fair : 
 
 Do it for good and all, and then fulfil 
 
 The promise of that guileful cough that still 
 Deludes all hope. Now is my pocket bare, 
 
 And common gifts, if oft repeated thus, 
 
 Would turn a Dives to a Lazarus. 
 
 eels 
 TO ARTEMIDORUS 
 
 MInERVA’S the goddess of painters, but yet 
 On limning Queen Venus your fancy is set. 
 Minerva and Venus are rivals, men tell ; 
 
 So be not surprised if your picture don’t sell. 
 
 of OG iAl 
 FOSDIDY MUS 
 
 THE softest of eunuch’s more manly than you, 
 
 Or Atys himself whom the castrated crew 
 
 Proclaim at Celaenae as lord of their rout 
 
 While they worship the Mother with maddening shout : 
 And yet of the seats in the theatre you prate, 
 
 Of edicts and stripes, Ides and clasps, and estate ; 
 
 And point at us poor men the finger of scorn 
 
 Which with pumice-stone rubbings you love to adorn. 
 It may be perhaps you can sit as a knight ; 
 
 But to sit with the husbands you've surely no right. 
 
 XLII 
 TRUE WEALTH 
 
 SoME thief may steal your wealth away, 
 Although by massive walls surrounded ; 
 Or ruthless fire in ashes lay 
 The ancient home your fathers founded ; 
 
 I51 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 A debtor may withhold your dues, 
 Deny perhaps a debt is owing, 
 
 Or sullen ploughlands may refuse 
 To yield a harvest to your sowing. 
 
 A cunning trollop of the town 
 
 May make your agent rob his master, 
 Or waters of the ocean drown 
 
 Your goods and ship in one disaster. 
 
 But give to friends whate’er you may, 
 
 ’Tis safe from fortune’s worst endeavour : 
 The riches that you give away, 
 
 These only shall be yours for ever. 
 
 ere LOL 
 THE CHANGE 
 
 MOoLvL’s teeth are black, while Susan’s white have grown. 
 The reason. Sue’s are bought, but Moll’s her own. 
 
 XLIV 
 THERA RASIIE 
 
 DENTO, what means this sudden change ? 
 Four times of late—’tis passing strange— 
 You have refused to dine ; to-day 
 
 I followed and you rushed away 
 
 From me whom once you tried to meet 
 In bath, in theatre, or street. 
 
 The reason I can well divine, 
 
 You’ve found a richer board than mine, 
 And dogs like you will always creep 
 Towards the fattest midden heap ; 
 
 But soon your host, beyond a doubt, 
 Will find you—aye and kick you out : 
 Then you will fawn in currish wise 
 
 For scraps of what you now despise. 
 
 POLE 
 LOCBASSA 
 You say that you are fair, of spotless fame : 
 
 Bassa, to state is not to prove a claim. 
 152 
 
BOOK FIVE 
 Pan eV I 
 TO DIADUMENUS 
 
 I po not care for kisses, 
 Save when we battle wage ; 
 For me the greatest bliss is 
 To see you burn with rage. 
 I strike, then fondle: so, my dear, 
 I neither have your love nor fear. 
 
 ALVII 
 SHORT COMMONS 
 
 HE never dines at home ? ’tis true no doubt— 
 Unless he’s given a meal he goes without. 
 
 ees V LLL 
 THE VOW 
 
 WuatT will Love not compel! Though Pudens murmured 
 ‘ No,’ 
 
 Yet he did not prevent young Encolpos, and so 
 
 He cut off his hair, while his master wept sore 
 
 And complained, like Apollo and Phaethon of yore ; 
 
 Than Hylas more fair or Achilles, when he 
 
 Rejoiced from his mother’s love-locks to be free ; 
 
 In return for the gift may he beardless remain, 
 
 And though his hair’s short seem a boy once again. 
 
 XLIX 
 EO@LABIEN US 
 
 You sat alone, yet I declare 
 
 I thought I saw three people there, 
 
 It was your head deceived me quite, 
 Somehow I could not count it right, 
 For it was decked on either side 
 
 With locks a boy might own with pride, 
 But there’s a vast expanse between 
 Where not a single hair is seen. 
 
 153 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 A fine arrangement as you found, 
 When Caesar’s festal gifts went round ; 
 You got three baskets I am told. 
 Methinks that Geryon of old 
 
 Looked just like you—pray do not go 
 Too near Philippus’ portico ; 
 
 If Hercules should see your head, 
 
 All’s over, you're as good as dead. 
 
 Lb, 
 THE IMPORTONATE GUist 
 
 WHENE ER I dine at home I know that you 
 Will surely take offence if not invited ; 
 I verily believe you’d run me through 
 Did you perceive my kitchen fire was lighted ; 
 Pray let me off this once, this once eschew 
 Your greed, ’tis truly dreadful when excited ; 
 No longer at my kitchen chimney spy, 
 But let my cook elude your eagle eye. 
 
 sh | 
 LHE VSOURDY SAD OC 
 
 THAT fellow who holds all those books in his hand, 
 Surrounded by clerks in a chattering band, 
 
 Who at every long brief and full note-book looks dully, 
 
 A Cato forsooth or a Brutus or Tully ; 
 
 Though you tortured him hard you could not make him speak, 
 Or give you ‘ good morning ’ in Latin or Greek. 
 
 Do you think that with truth I am rather too free >— 
 
 Well, let’s go and greet him, and then you will see. 
 
 bat | 
 SELE- PRAISE 
 
 CAN I forget your many favours? Nay. 
 Why don’t I mention them ? Because you do. 
 If I begin, some one is sure to say 
 ‘ Your patron told me all he did for you’ ; 
 Friend there are tasks cannot be done by two ; 
 Shall this be yours or mine ? for I submit 
 However great a gift, there nothing due 
 To any giver who shall boast of it. 
 
 154 
 
BOOK FIVE 
 LItl 
 
 TO BASSUS 
 
 For Pelops or Andromache 
 Your style is quite unsuited, 
 
 Your ‘ Colchian Queen ’ and ‘ Niobe’ 
 Are tragedy diluted. 
 
 You ought to find Deucalion 
 A subject sympathetic, 
 
 Or is not fire-doomed Phaethon 
 Still apter—and prophetic ? 
 
 LIV 
 
 A FEAT OF MEMORY 
 
 HE spoke your name without his note-book’s aid, 
 The first impromptu speech he ever made ! 
 
 ‘al LANE 
 ARUIALOGUE 
 
 Wuom dost thou carry, queen of birds? ‘Tis Jove. 
 Why does he grasp no lightning? He’s in love. 
 With whom? A boy. And why with visage meek 
 Dost thou look back ? Of Ganymede I speak. 
 
 EVI 
 
 BepReCl ICAL EDUCATION 
 
 LoncG have you pondered what employ 
 Or training you should give your boy ; 
 Firstly, a cultured education 
 
 To-day is reckoned sheer damnation ; 
 All classic authors are a curse, 
 
 Bacon is ruin, Milton worse, 
 
 If he loves rhyme, he must forgo it, 
 Good Lord ! he might become a poet ! 
 If art be naught and money all— 
 Why, train him for the Music Hall, 
 
 Or if he’s dull of intellect 
 
 Make him a tout or architect. 
 
 155 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 a LL 
 
 A’ SLIP(OPAIAEY TONGUE 
 
 TuouGH I called you ‘ My lord,’ you’ve no reason for pride : 
 For so to your slaves I have often replied. 
 
 Sev LLL 
 TORE OST UMS 
 
 ‘ To-MORROW, to-morrow I mean to start living “"— 
 So you say, but to-morrow’s some time in arriving. 
 Where is your ‘ to-morrow,’ where can it be found, 
 In Armenia or Parthia or hid underground ? 
 
 It’s as ancient as Priam or Nestor of old. 
 
 How much would it fetch if you wanted it sold ? 
 
 ‘ To-morrow ’ :—nay, do not this moment delay. 
 The wise man is he who has lived yesterday. 
 
 rs 
 LOSS DE ie 
 
 DEAR poet friend, desirous to befriend you 
 It is not gold or silver that I send you, 
 
 For costly gifts demand a costly guerdon ; 
 My pretty gift shall free you from a burden. 
 
 Fhe 
 TQVA’ JEALOUS RIVAL 
 
 You may bark at me always and snarl and attack, 
 
 But I mean to deny you the fame that you lack ; 
 
 And I do not intend that your name should be read 
 
 In my books and thereby through the wide world be spread. 
 Why you should be heard of ? There’s no reason why ; 
 Unknown you have lived and unknown you may die. 
 
 One or two men in Rome, or perhaps three or four, 
 
 Will play ‘ dog bite dog,’ if it is in their power ; 
 
 But I, let me tell you, am not one of these, 
 
 And my nails I shall keep off your scabs, if you please. 
 
 156 
 
BOOK FIVE 
 ALD 
 TO MARIANUS 
 
 Who is the young fopling, who is he, I say, 
 
 Whom we see with your wife at her side all the day. 
 
 Who whispers soft nothings into her warm ear 
 
 And presses his elbow so dangerously near, 
 
 While on every finger a light ring he shows 
 
 And never a hair on his smooth legs allows. 
 
 Can't you give me an answer? What’s that >—‘ For my 
 wife 
 
 He’s agent, —A trusted one too, on my life. 
 
 He looks well the part of an agent, does he: 
 
 Aufidius the rake would not more earnest be. 
 
 My dear Marianus, we’ll see you both soon 
 
 On the stage: he’ll be clown and you old pantaloon. 
 
 “ Your wife’s business man ’—A young fopling like that ! 
 
 It’s your business, my friend, not your wife’s, that he’s at. 
 
 LXII 
 
 AN INVITATION 
 
 A WELCOME to my garden, if you care 
 To sit upon the ground, for seats are lacking ; 
 Or bring, good guest, a table and a chair ; 
 These have resigned, they stand awry and cracking ; 
 There is not e’en a cushion-cover there, 
 The couch has broken ties and rotten sacking. 
 I bought the gardens—you can beautify them 
 ’Twill cost you less than what I paid to buy them. 
 
 LXIII 
 
 LOSEON TLE US 
 
 You’RE always saying, ‘ Marcus, as a friend, 
 Tell me about my books and how they strike you’ ; 
 ‘Quite wonderful, unique—lI dare contend 
 That Regulus has written nothing like you.’ 
 ‘Kind friend,’ you say, ‘ May Jove and Caesar too 
 Treat you as you deserve!’ ‘The same to you.’ 
 
 157 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 LXIV 
 CAPE ey) Ea 
 
 SLAVE, a full draught of vintage fine, 
 
 And bid thy comrade cool the wine, 
 Let snow its heat allay ; 
 
 Twine rosy wreaths to deck my head, 
 
 Nard shall its precious fragrance shed 
 To crown my locks to-day ; 
 
 For Caesar’s tomb that standeth nigh 
 
 Doth warn that even gods can die, 
 I'll live while yet I may. 
 
 pale AY 
 
 TO DOMITIAN 
 
 THE Nemean lion and Arcadian boar, 
 
 In spite of Juno, gave the stars of yore 
 
 To great Alcides who laid Eryx low, 
 
 And forced the Libyan wrestler to bow 
 
 Before his might, and slew the woodland pest, 
 Cacus, of stolen kine by craft possessed. 
 
 And yet how small to-day his deeds appear. 
 Each morn we see more glorious conflicts here. 
 How many boars by Caesar now are slain 
 
 And beasts more fierce than that of Nemea’s plain 
 How soon would Geryon admit defeat 
 
 If he our famous champion should meet ! 
 
 And how could Hydra with each head renewed 
 For all her fury face the Nile’s fierce brood! 
 He by his valour swiftly rose to heaven : 
 
 To thee, great Emperor, may it late be given. 
 
 FOL UVil 
 
 TO PONTILIANUS 
 
 THouGH I often to you a ‘ Good morning * have said, 
 You ne’er answer back, any more than the dead. 
 The next time ’twill be, if you do not reply,— 
 “Good-bye, dear departed, for ever good-bye.’ 
 
 158 
 
BOOK FIVE 
 LXVII 
 A TARDY NEMESIS 
 
 WHEN swallows sought a sunnier clime, 
 One laggard tarried, and the rest 
 Returned again in summer-time 
 And found the traitress in her nest ; 
 So was her guilty deed confessed, 
 And she was slain, for tardy fate 
 In her an ancient wrong redressed ; 
 But Itys was avenged too late. 
 
 LXVIII 
 
 Om Es DLA 
 
 I SEND you tresses from the North ; behold 
 How far more lustrous is your braided gold. 
 
 AED AD, < 
 THENUEAT ESOP CICERO 
 
 ANTONY, more guilty than Pothinus’ knife, 
 
 Whose lists of death weigh less than Tully’s life, 
 Why draw the sword against the mouth of Rome ? 
 Not Cataline himself to this had come. 
 
 To your base soldiers murder was a trade, 
 
 And for that tongue a golden fee you paid. 
 
 You hushed that sacred voice in senseless hate : 
 Now the whole world is Cicero’s advocate. 
 
 vy ALD D,© 
 
 TO MAXIMUS 
 
 Syriscus a full hundred thousand received 
 
 From his patron, and though it will scarce be believed, 
 He managed at taverns to squander the lot 
 
 About the four baths, drinking pot after pot. 
 
 What a thirst he must have such a fortune to drown, 
 And to do it too standing without sitting down. 
 
 159 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 LXXI 
 A SUMMER HOLIDAY 
 
 To Trebula thy footsteps turn, 
 
 For here be valleys cool and deep ; 
 Hot though the stars of Cancer burn 
 
 Her pleasant fields their verdure keep ; 
 
 And Aeolus right well doth know 
 My little farm and country cot, 
 
 He sends his gentle breeze to blow 
 That ardent Leo parch them not. 
 
 Come, for the uplands call: with me 
 Pass the long days of harvest heat ; 
 
 Compared with these, cool Tivoli 
 Shall seem a winter’s warm retreat. 
 
 ToL ACH 
 LO Os 
 
 ‘THE mother of Bacchus was Jove ’—it were rather 
 More proper to say—‘ Semele was his father.’ 
 
 LXXIII 
 RETURN FAVOURS 
 
 Wuy don’t I send my book to you. 
 Although you often urge me to ? 
 
 The reason’s good, for if I did 
 
 You’d send me yours—which God forbid ! 
 
 LXXIV 
 ON THE DEATH OF POMPEY AND AisgoGe 
 
 AsIA has Sextus’, Europe Gnaeus’ grave, 
 Their sire doth lie beneath the Libyan wave, 
 Or haply on her strand, we wot not where : 
 What marvel every continent should share 
 Their sundered ashes ? One could not embrace 
 The mighty ruin of that mighty race. 
 
 160 
 
BOOK FIVE 
 LXXV 
 A NOVEL UNION 
 
 SINCE legal penalties you held in awe 
 You married Laelia ; she’s your wife-in-law ! 
 
 EO ayal 
 THE MITHRIDATIC CURE 
 
 By drinking poison daily, soon 
 
 Did Pontus’ King become immune, 
 
 So, judging by your daily dinner, 
 You'll soon be hunger-proof, my Cinna. 
 
 yA WG" WT 
 LOTMAROULLUS 
 
 A wIT once remarked—‘ When his patron is near, 
 You'ld think that Marullus had oil in his ear.’ 
 
 LXXVIII 
 ABCUUNDT RY UMENU 
 
 TORANIUS come and dine (or fast) with me, 
 
 If you should find your lonely table bore you ; 
 Have you a jaded palate ? there shall be 
 
 No lack of leeks or lettuce to restore you ; 
 Sliced tunny with its egg—fresh broccoli 
 
 On a black plate my slave shall set before you, 
 This from my garden cool—but touch it not 
 With careless fingers, ’twill be piping hot. 
 
 A sausage on polenta snowy white, 
 
 Plump lentils duly flanked with streaky bacon ; 
 Then if dessert can stir your appetite, 
 
 Raisins and Syrian pears shall next be taken, 
 Chestnuts from learned Naples, cooked aright 
 
 In slowest heat their savour to awaken, 
 And from my humble wine-jar do not shrink, 
 The better seems the wine the more you drink. 
 
 161 i 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 And then, these dainties done, if Bacchus please 
 To stir new craving, I can satisfy it 
 With fine, fat olives from Picenum’s trees, 
 Or lupins, or parched peas. I don’t deny it 
 Is a poor dinner ; yet to lie at ease 
 Nor need to hear small gossip, or supply it, 
 Is something gained : and here you need not wear 
 The jaded diner’s artificial air. 
 
 I’ll read no heavy tome when dinner’s done, 
 
 Nor strive by any dancer’s aid to.quell you, 
 Those Spanish jades are minxes, every one, 
 
 Their artful attitudes would but repel you, 
 But Condylus shall pipe—and there is none 
 
 More skilled than he—perhaps I ought to tell you 
 That you'll sit next the lady you adore. 
 Whom shall we ask to make a cosy four ? 
 
 ELEY, O41 4 
 LOVZOLLUS 
 
 From the table eleven times you must get up 
 
 And appear in eleven fresh gowns while we sup ; 
 
 For you fear, I suppose, that a draught while you sweat 
 Will give you a cold if your clothes should be wet: 
 Why do I by your side suffer no such distress ? 
 
 Well, it’s cooling perhaps to have only one dress. 
 
 PA DDS, OS 
 LO SEVERUS 
 
 I BEG you give me of your treasure, 
 
 Part of an hour when you're at leisure, 
 
 And while you read these trifles light 
 
 A debit in your ledger write. 
 
 ‘°’Tis hard my holiday to spoil ’ 
 
 Nay, prithee friend, endure the toil. 
 
 For if Secundus too will read 
 
 This little booklet, then indeed— 
 
 —I hope I don’t presume too much— 
 
 *Twill owe it to your critic touch 
 
 That I, like Sisyphus in pain, 
 
 Shall not find all my trouble vain, 
 162 
 
BOOK FIVE 
 
 To you indebted more than me 
 And free from all anxiety, 
 
 When yours and wise Secundus’ file 
 Has chastened its defects of style. 
 
 LXXXI 
 
 Lier EO SLI E 
 
 GOLD only draws to gold, so it is plain, 
 If you are poor, that poor you will remain. 
 
 PT 
 
 PORGAGR US 
 
 Why yesterday promise two thousand,. my friend, 
 When to-day you can’t even a bare hundred lend ? 
 ‘You can, but you won’t ’"—that’s the worst cut of all. 
 You're a paltry curmudgeon ; and damn you withal. 
 
 LXXXIII 
 
 POPOL STORY 
 
 FoLtLow, and I shall flee, 
 Fly, I shall follow thee ; 
 Such is the bent 
 Of love’s perversity ; 
 Denial draweth me, 
 But not assent. 
 
 LXXXIV 
 
 LORGALLA 
 
 RELUCTANT urchins leave their play 
 Their clamorous pedagogue to face, 
 And rattling dice-boxes betray 
 ‘The fevered gambler’s lurking place, 
 Haled from his lair in sorry case, 
 For now the feast its course has run, 
 Abject he seeks the aedile’s grace, 
 The Saturnalia are done. 
 163 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Yes, done, but I have had from you 
 No little gift my heart to cheer, 
 
 You never sent me much, ’tis true ; 
 But nothing came this barren year ; 
 Ah well, your feast will soon be here, 
 
 March brings my opportunity, 
 
 Then I'll return to you, my dear, 
 
 The compliment you’ve paid to me. 
 

 
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BOOK SIx 
 I 
 
 TORTULLOS MARTIALTS 
 
 TAKE this my book, dear critic sage, 
 For if thou purge its faults away, 
 It scarce shall tremble in the day 
 When Caesar’s hand shall turn its page. 
 
 ea 
 PNmUOMITIAN S REVIVAL OF THE LEX JULIA 
 
 ONCE ’twas a sport to break the marriage vow 
 
 And gelding was a pastime: not so now. 
 
 Both thou forbiddest, Caesar ; and hereby 
 
 Hast rid from shame unborn posterity. 
 
 No eunuchs, no adulterers, we see 
 
 Here, where e’en eunuchs once with wives made free. 
 
 LL 
 ON THE EXPECTED BIRTH OF DOMITIAN’S HEIR 
 
 BE born, thou name to [ulus promised long, 
 
 Be born, true scion of the heavenly throng ; 
 
 With snow-white fingers Julia shall take 
 
 The golden fleece and thence thy life-threads make. 
 But pass the ages ere thy sire resign 
 
 The reins and join his elder power with thine. 
 
 IV 
 
 ON DOMITIAN’S MORAL REFORMS 
 
 THOU prince of princes, our most puissant lord, 
 What triumphs does thy city owe to thee ! 
 Temples new-builded, crumbling fanes restored, 
 What holy rites, what gorgeous pageantry, 
 What cities won !—Yet hast thou given to Rome 
 A greater boon—her purity of home. 
 167 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Vv 
 TO CAECILIANUS 
 
 AT vast expense I bought my farm and grounds ; 
 Can you oblige me with a thousand pounds ? 
 That silence means I may not pay—'tis true, 
 And that is why I stooped to beg of you. 
 
 VI 
 THE SUPERNUMERARY 
 
 IN Comedy are actors three, no more, 
 
 And though on Paula’s stage are gallants four, 
 She does not violate the rules of Art, 
 
 For one of these has not a speaking part. 
 
 VII 
 EASY BONDS 
 
 SoME thirty days ago not more, we saw 
 Enacted once again the Julian law 
 
 And outward decency restored : since then 
 Has Telesilla married husbands ten ! 
 
 This oft-played farce is ‘ marriage’! I confess 
 A demi-mondaine would offend me less. 
 
 Vale 
 A PRUDENT, FATHER 
 
 OF praetors two and of tribunes four, 
 Of pleaders and poets half a score, 
 
 All asked for a sage’s girl to wife. 
 
 He sought to give her an easy life, 
 
 So he made a prudent if hasty plan, 
 And married her off to a broker’s man. 
 
 JAAD ,< 
 THE SCEEPING; SPECIATION 
 AT the theatre in slumber your eyelids you close 
 
 And grumble when Ocean disturbs your repose. 
 168 
 
BOOK SIX 
 
 Dc 
 THE GIFT DEFERRED 
 
 For some few thousands Jupiter I prayed— 
 “Who gave me temples, he will give ’"—he said. 
 Temples he gave to Jupiter: to me 
 
 Naught did he give. I sinned through modesty 
 And asked too little. Yet my humble screed 
 With what a gentle visage did he read. 
 
 So looked he when he crowns to Dacians sent 
 Or down the Sacred Way in triumph went. 
 
 Tell me, O maid, who dost his secrets know, 
 How says he ‘ yes,’ when thus he answers ‘ no ’ ?— 
 Thus I; and thus, her Gorgon laid aside, 
 Pallas—‘ A gift deferred is not denied.’ 
 
 UeexXl 
 THE FRIENDLY LEAD 
 
 “Is friendship dead ? ’ you sigh, ‘ in days like these 
 Orestes cannot find a Pylades.’ 
 
 Think you Orestes lived on daintier fare 
 
 Or quaffed a cup his friend might never share ? 
 Your palate’s not more delicate than mine, 
 
 Yet I get whelks, you oysters plump and fine. 
 Coarse robes I wear, you flaunt in rich attire, 
 
 Can Gallic fustian love the robes of Tyre ? 
 
 Such friendship shows in word and not in deed, 
 
 I can’t play Pylades without a lead. 
 
 XII 
 BYeRIGHICOR PURCHASE 
 
 THOSE purchased tresses which her head adorn 
 Fabulla swears are hers—is she forsworn ? 
 
 XIII 
 Sei olALUE OF JULIA, NIECE OF DOMITIAN 
 
 HATH Pheidias’ chisel graved that lovely form ? 
 Nay, Pallas’ art hath wrought it ; she alone 
 Could make the soulless marble speak and warm 
 With all the grace of life the cold white stone. 
 
 169 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 And, see, a gentler hand than Venus’ own 
 Toys with a cestus—Cupid brought it her; 
 
 Let Juno, yea, or Venus, beg that zone 
 To lure the War God or the Thunderer. 
 
 XIV 
 LOE SILCEN DaSINGEAG 
 
 You write no tuneful verse. You say you can, 
 But from the proof your modest pen doth shrink. 
 You could and will not! Self-denying man ! 
 O Milton, guiltless of your country’s ink ! 
 
 XV 
 ON AN ANT IN AMBER 
 
 THE amber dripped from Phaethon’s fair tree 
 And whelmed a petty ant that wandered there, 
 And, though of little worth in life was she, 
 Now in her death she is a treasure rare. 
 
 FOIL 
 THE ORCHARD KEEPER 
 
 PRIAPUS, who dost these few acres guard, 
 With phallus and with sickle keeping ward ; 
 Never may hoary thieves these fences break, 
 But only boys and girls thy apples take. 
 
 DOVE 
 ABBREVIATIONS 
 
 You’RE Cinna now, not Cinnamus, 
 O Barber, you are Barbarous, 
 In clipping names you err. 
 Suppose you shared the honoured name 
 Of Furius, would you do the same, 
 And crop it down to ‘ Fur?’ 
 170 
 
BOOK SIX 
 
 POV ITT 
 AN EPITAPH 
 
 IN Spanish soil doth Saloninus rest, 
 
 Noblest of souls, a spirit ever blest. 
 
 *Twere wrong to grieve : he still is with us herc ; 
 For Priscus lives, to him than life more dear. 
 
 XIX 
 
 THE ELOQUENT ORATOR 
 
 *TIs not a poisoning case obscure, 
 Nor murder, nor assault ; 
 
 Three goats are stolen, and I’m sure 
 My neighbour is in fault. 
 
 The judge has asked for evidence, 
 ’Tis all we’re waiting for ; 
 
 But counsel paints with eloquence 
 The Mithradatic war. 
 
 He roars of Carthage—perjured land, 
 And Cannae doth discuss, 
 
 And then applauds with voice and hand 
 The deeds of Marius. 
 
 With Sulla’s acts he makes us quake, 
 O’er Mucius he gloats ; 
 
 Now, Postumus, for goodness’ sake 
 Say something of the goats. 
 
 nD. @,% 
 PROCRASTINATION 
 
 You said to me— Can I do nothing for you ? ’ 
 So I asked for a loan, as a bill had come due. 
 
 And now for a week it’s been doubt and delay. 
 Refuse me at once, don’t torment me this way. 
 
 171 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 XXI 
 TAN THATS AN DVS ELA 
 
 WHEN Venus knit the bond that tied 
 Ianthis to her poet, 
 
 “No greater gift is mine,’ she cried, 
 ‘On Stella I bestow it.’ 
 
 So spake she for the bride to hear, 
 Anon, her craft betraying, 
 
 She murmured low in Stella’s ear, 
 “Thou rogue, beware of straying ; 
 
 The wanton war-god oft hath known 
 The wrath of vengeful Venus, 
 
 Before he was my spouse alone 
 When rivals came between us. 
 
 Now wedded, none disputes with me 
 My sway supreme and royal, 
 
 And Juno well may wish that she 
 Could boast a mate as loyal.’ 
 
 She ceased and gave the blow unseen, 
 From which no hearts recover ; 
 
 Now smite alike, O gracious queen, 
 The lady and her lover. 
 
 XXII 
 RESPECTABILA Ty, 
 
 Now, a suspected past to cover, 
 
 You make a husband of your lover, 
 
 Lest law should visit your transgression ; 
 This is not marriage but confession ! 
 
 oh, OnG HEE 
 DORLCE SBI 
 
 You want me, dear lady, to be always ready. 
 
 But love, you must know, is a thing most unsteady. 
 Your words and your gestures invite me to go 
 
 To extremities with you. Your face—that says ‘ No. 
 
 172 
 
BOOK SIX 
 
 LV 
 
 VHRR OALPURNALTA 
 
 You are indeed a reckless lad, 
 At Saturn’s feast in toga clad ! 
 
 reek V. 
 Pipe lLOriGH PD sANOTHER DAY 
 
 DEAR Marullinus, noble sire’s true son, 
 
 Who ’neath the frozen stars of North hast gone, 
 Hear me, thy father’s friend, as now I pray, 
 And to thy mindful heart this message lay. 
 Restrain thy courage, nor with valour rash 
 
 Too swift against the foemen’s battle dash. 
 
 Let madmen fly into the furious strife : 
 
 Father and chief alike both need thy life. 
 
 XXVI 
 
 PERICLITATUR capite Sotades noster. 
 Reum putatis esse Sotaden ? non est. 
 Arrigere desit posse Sotades : lingit. 
 
 XXVII 
 
 TO NEPOS 
 
 NEpoS, like me you dwell near Flora’s shrine 
 In town ; your country house is near to mine, 
 So well I know you have a daughter who 
 —All honour to your dame—is just like you ; 
 And yet why save your ancient wines for her ? 
 Hard cash to mellow casks will she prefer ; 
 Reward her love and leave her stores of gold, 
 And if you will, new wine—it will be old 
 Before she needs it. May a childless man, 
 But not a father, love good Caecuban ? 
 
 173 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 XXVIII 
 ONT AY BOYS (GRAVE 
 
 BENEATH a marble, by Flaminius’ way 
 Lies Glaucias, whom Melior made free, 
 For well he loved him in his little day ; 
 All knew his fame and mourned his fate—for he 
 Was pure in soul and modest, fair to see, 
 And rich in every dower of heart and head, 
 Yet only twelve full summers he had known 
 And, ere the next was done, the child was dead. 
 Hast thou a tear to drop above the stone ? 
 Be that the last that ever thou shalt shed. 
 
 XXIX 
 ON THE SAME 
 
 No common household serf, no purchased slave, 
 But worthy Melior’s pure love was he, 
 
 Long ere he knew the boon his patron gave 
 In just reward, already he was free, 
 
 For who so good and dear, so fair to see, 
 Dowered with a beauty that a God might wear ? 
 If aught be priceless, short its life must be ; 
 
 May naught thou lovest be over dear or fair ! 
 
 XXX 
 HOPE DEFERRED 
 
 ‘ WuatT, fifty pounds !’ you said to me, 
 ‘ Take it of course—a gift you know.’ 
 Ah, tenfold more my debt should be 
 If deed had followed word—but no, 
 You waited month on month, and though 
 At last you gave it me, ’tis sad 
 That gratitude died long ago, 
 And you are fifty to the bad. 
 
 174 
 
BOOK 
 
 TEXT 
 
 TO CHARIDEMUS 
 
 You know your good lady has got an affair 
 With a doctor, yet at it you wink. 
 
 You won’t need a fever to die with that pair : 
 Toss off what they give you to drink. 
 
 ve PO, OG Mi 
 
 OTHO AT BEDRIACUM 
 
 SHE wavered yet, the fury of our fray, 
 
 And wanton Otho still could win the day ; 
 But cursing war with all its price of blood, 
 He pierced his heart and perished as he stood. 
 Let Cato’s life than Caesar’s greater be: 
 
 But in their death is Otho first or he ? 
 
 oD, O00 
 
 TROP D’AMOUR 
 
 YounG Nancy was once the most happy of men, 
 But now he’s quite weary of life ; 
 
 SIX 
 
 Thefts, runaway slaves, fires, mourning and death, 
 
 And worst thing of all—a fond wife. 
 
 XXXIV 
 AMRECKONING OP KISSES 
 
 GIVE me fond kisses. ‘ Nay, how many more ? 
 You ask? Ah, count the ripples of the seas, 
 
 The myriad shells that strew the ocean’s shore, 
 Fare to Hymettus’ hill and tell the bees, 
 
 What time, unhoped for, Caesar meets her view 
 
 The plaudits of all Rome, canst reckon these ° 
 
 What Lesbia gave her bard should not appease 
 
 My thirst. Who numbers kisses needs but few. 
 175 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 XXXV 
 ON A LONG-WINDED ORATOR 
 
 So loud you clamoured, the reluctant bench 
 
 Gave you seven hours to speak—a generous tether— 
 But still your speech drags on—your throat you drench 
 
 With many a tepid draught—bethink you whether 
 You might not drain the extra clock, and quench 
 
 That burning eloquence and thirst together. 
 
 XXXVI 
 
 MENTULA tam magna est, tantus tibi, Papyle, nasus, 
 Ut possis, quotiens arrigis, olfacere. 
 
 XXXVI 
 
 SECTI podicis usque ad umbilicum 
 Nullas relliquias habet Charinus, 
 
 Et prurit tamen usque ad umbilicum. 
 O quanta scabie miser laborat ! 
 Culum non habet, est tamen cinaedus. 
 
 AXXVITII 
 
 ON REGULUS’ LITTLE SON 
 
 SEE little Regulus ; he claps his hands 
 To hear his sire, not three years old is he, 
 
 Yet quits his mother’s lap and proudly stands 
 To share the loud applause ; he loves to see 
 The bench, the crowding throng, and hails with glee 
 
 The pomp of court and lawyers’ busy drone. 
 
 So high-bred colts will long a race to run, 
 
 Bulls lust for battle ere their horns be grown. 
 Preserve him, heaven, until, his triumphs won, 
 
 His father see them, and his mother own 
 Pride in the sire redoubled in the son. 
 
 176 
 
BOOK SIX 
 TOA AXITX 
 A FAMILY MAN 
 
 MARULLA has made you the father of seven, 
 
 But they are not your children or your neighbour’s even. 
 Conceived in slaves’ beds or on mats where she lay, 
 Their faces your wife’s peccadilloes betray. 
 
 This curly-haired rascal we see by his look 
 
 Is a nigger, the offspring of Santra the cook. 
 
 The next, blubber-lipped, with a flat, crushed-in nose, 
 The wrestler Pannychus’ own image shows. 
 
 The third is blear-eyed and you know who’s his maker 
 If you’ve ever beheld blear-eyed Dama the baker. 
 
 The fourth is pale-cheeked, with a catamite’s face ; 
 
 To Lygdus your minion his birth we can trace. 
 
 The fifth, with sharp head and two long asses’ ears, 
 
 Is the son of your fool Cyrta, so it appears. 
 
 Last of all the two sisters, one dark-haired, one red, 
 From your bailiff and Crotus the flautist were bred, 
 While your Niobid troupe would have been at least ten 
 Had Coressus and Dindymus only been men. 
 
 XL 
 THE GRAMMAR OF LOVE 
 
 As Glycera was perfect, so 
 Lycoris is to me, 
 
 How can the past be present, tho’ 
 Their futures may agree ? 
 
 ‘Love,’ ‘ Loved,’ ah, Time’s omnipotence ! 
 His grammar rules are crude ; 
 
 By merely altering a tense 
 He brings a change of mood. 
 
 XLI 
 Pore PORN WI Law AS COLD 
 
 A WRAP, because his voice is weak, 
 About his throat is flung ; 
 
 So he admits he cannot speak 
 And will not hold his tongue. 
 
 177 M 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 * XLII 
 THE PERFECT BATH 
 
 IF you never have bathed with Etruscus, my friend, 
 Then you'll die still unbathed when you come to your end. 
 No waters are quite so alluring, you'll own: 
 
 Not the founts of Aponus to maidens unknown, 
 
 Or soft Sinuessa, or Passer’s hot stream, 
 
 Proud Anxur, or Phoebus, or Baiae supreme. 
 Nowhere so serene is the ight the sun pours, 
 Nowhere does the day last for so many hours. 
 
 Green slabs from Taygetus and African stone 
 Contend with the marble in Phrygia hewn, 
 
 While rich alabaster deliciously warm 
 
 Adds its glow to the snake-stone’s peculiar charm. 
 
 If you like Spartan methods, first try their dry heat, 
 Then a plunge where the Virgo and Marcia meet ; 
 
 For the water’s so bright and the stone shines so clear 
 You would never suspect any water was there. 
 
 Here, dash it: wake up: listen: don’t shut your eye. 
 Very well: you will never have bathed when you die. 
 
 ALI 
 
 AVOUIET MRE DRE 
 
 *Mip luxury in Baiae’s sun you bask, 
 
 Fair Naiads call you to their healing pool, 
 To me my country cot gives all I ask, 
 
 No burdensome broad acres there I rule. 
 
 Here is my sunshine, here my waters cool, 
 My priceless luxury—lI went in quest 
 
 Of pleasure once to waters of renown 
 What time long travel gave but added zest ; 
 
 But now I hate to journey far from town 
 And only seek for comfort and for rest. 
 
 XLIV 
 
 LTO CALLIODORUS 
 
 COARSE jokes you think are Attic salt, 
 That you are gay and debonair, 
 That clownish insults must exalt 
 Your reputation everywhere. 
 178 
 
BOOK SIX 
 
 But now for naked truth prepare ! 
 So vile the venom you call wit, 
 That none your cup will ever share, 
 
 If once your lips have poisoned it. 
 
 LV 
 Pier Ans SPOOLS 
 
 ENOUGH, you've had your fling, ye wantons gay, 
 Get married now as law ordains—but stay— 
 
 If Lygdus weds Laetoria, law, methinks, 
 
 But turns a single to a married minx. 
 
 peels VL 
 Puma oLUR CHARTOLEER 
 
 You lash your nags hard; but they know they’re the Blues, 
 And they won’t put on pace: ’tis their glory to lose. 
 
 DG EMA HT 
 PoE PORIJ Ss VOW. 
 
 GLIDING through Stella’s house, thy waters lave 
 Thy lord’s fair halls and court, thou nymph divine ; 
 Egeria sent thee forth from Trivia’s cave 
 Perchance, or art thou of the heavenly nine ? 
 This victim here I offer at thy shrine, 
 Since, sick, thy healing draught I took by stealth ; 
 Take thou my quittance, nymph, and be it mine 
 Freely to quaff henceforth full draughts of health. 
 
 * XLVITI 
 BOUGHT VAL PIAUSE 
 THE well-dressed spectators shout loudly ‘ Bravo ’— 
 
 It’s a debt to your eloquent dinner they owe. 
 179 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 of DG IH 1D € 
 
 Ay STATUE OR: PRIALGS 
 
 I was not from a frail elm hewn, 
 And this stark column plainly shown 
 Is of no ordinary timber, 
 
 But carved from out a cypress limber 
 Which dreads not age’s slow decay 
 Nor centuries as they pass away. 
 Beware then, rascals: if thou wound 
 The smallest vine in this my ground, 
 My cypress rod will graft on thee 
 Figs that as tumours we shall see. 
 
 “dk, 
 
 THE ROAD TI OW Arig 
 
 Last year Telesinus possessed one poor gown, 
 
 But his comrades as good decent fellows were known. 
 To-day he consorts with a villainous crew 
 
 And his lands, plate, and table are matched by but few. 
 Honest friends are no use: if you want to be rich, 
 
 You must not be afraid, my dear boy, to touch pitch. 
 
 EA 
 
 A REVENGE 
 
 I KNow the way to get revenge on you 
 
 For seldom asking me ; next time you do 
 
 You'll know my wrath. Yes, you may beg and send 
 And urge me as you will, but then, my friend— 
 ‘What, what ? ’ you gasp with terror nearly dumb, 
 ‘What shall I do indeed!’ well—I shall come. 
 
 a UA 
 THE BOY BARBER 
 
 HERE lies Pantagathus in boyhood dead, 
 
 His master’s grief and sorrow, from whose head 
 
 With scissors swift he would the loose hair clip 
 
 And pass his razor over cheek and lip. 
 
 Though thou lie light, kind Earth, upon him, still 
 
 Thou wilt not match the lightness of his skill. 
 180 
 
BOOK SIX 
 LIIl 
 A BAD DREAM 
 
 HE bathed and supped with me—how bright he seemed ; 
 Next morn they found him dead. What fell disease 
 Slew him so suddenly ? Alas, he dreamed 
 
 That by him stood the quack Hermocrates. 
 
 Ser Vs 
 
 THINK BIG 
 
 IF John can’t use ‘ so big’ in either gender, 
 He scarcely can the simplest fréczs render. 
 Why’s that, you say ? Well, I myself surmise 
 In either gender John admires size. 
 
 pe SLUN 
 LOA EOP 
 
 You have always perfume on, 
 Cassia or cinnamon, 
 
 Taken from a phoenix nest 
 
 Or from barbers’ vials pressed ; 
 And at us poor folk you jeer 
 Who must unperfumed appear. 
 Well, I’ld rather scentless be 
 Than be scented lavishly. 
 
 LVI 
 
 Quop tibi crura rigent saetis et pectora uillis, 
 Uerba putas famae te, Charideme, dare ? 
 Extirpa, mihi crede, pilos de corpore toto 
 Teque pilare tuas testificare natis. 
 “Quae ratio est ?’ inquis.. Scis multos dicere multa : 
 Fac pedicari te, Charideme, putent. 
 18] 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 LVII 
 ON A BALD MAN WHO PAINTED HIS SCALP 
 
 WHEN nature’s tresses you would imitate 
 
 By smearing unguents on your greasy pate, 
 
 At least the barber’s toil and shears you save— 
 A sponge can give a clean and easy shave. 
 
 LVIII 
 LO THE CENTURION PUDENS 
 
 FAR in the North you fought and loved to see 
 Gleam bright above your head the frozen wain, 
 
 Nor knew how Lethe’s waters threatened me 
 And the dim mists that shroud Elysium’s plain ; 
 Wandered mine eyes to find your face again, 
 
 ‘ Pudens’: my lips, nigh speechless, murmured still. 
 But now if no black thread for me be spun, 
 
 If listening gods mine orisons fulfil, 
 Soon shall I see you safe, the guerdon won 
 
 Of high command worthy your fame and skill. 
 
 pb b.< 
 ON BACCARA 
 
 BAcCARA has so many great-coats that he growls 
 
 Unless the frost bites and the icy wind howls. 
 
 He likes the dark days and the cold and the snow : 
 
 Mild weather in winter to him is a blow. 
 
 What harm has my cloak, which a light wind can raise 
 From my shoulders, done to you that winter you praise ? 
 How much more straightforward and kind it would be 
 In August to let us your frieze wrappers see ! 
 
 LX 
 THE ENVIOUS CRITIC 
 
 ME kindly Rome loves, quotes my books, and buys them ; 
 But till that critic feigning to despise them 
 Blushed and turned pale, then yawned and looked confounded, 
 I never felt my fame was surely grounded. 
 
 182 
 
BOOK SIX 
 
 LXI 
 FAME 
 
 Martial: | Pompullus’ end is gained, he will be read 
 And over all the world his fame be spread. 
 Faustinus : The Tow-haired knaves of Germany, say you, 
 Share such repute—and other rebels too ! 
 Martial: | Yet some account him clever you must own. 
 Faustinus : Fame cannot follow cleverness alone. 
 The moth and worm love many a learned book 
 That no one wants to buy except a cook. 
 Ifor song needs more than cleverness can give 
 And, save through genius, it shall not live. 
 
 TeX DL 
 ON FORTUNE-HUNTERS 
 
 Now he has lost his only son 
 And there is no one to protect him ; 
 Take him a gift, make haste and run, 
 Now he has lost his only son. 
 
 By cruel fate is he undone, 
 
 For soon you vultures will detect him, 
 Now he has lost his only son 
 
 And there is no one to protect him. 
 
 LALIT 
 ON PLA E SAME 
 
 HE courts you—of the fact you are aware ; 
 He is a greedy rogue—you know that too ; 
 And yet, poor fool, you name him as your heir, 
 Content the rascal should succeed to you ! 
 ‘He sent fat gifts,’ you say: so anglers do ; 
 But earn they gratitude from silly fish ? 
 If you would have him mourn with sorrow true, 
 Then leave him nothing, you will have your wish. 
 183 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 ATELY: 
 TO AN ENVIOUS DETRACTOR: 
 A HEXAMETER POEM 
 
 You are not of the Fabian sort, 
 Nor such a one as Curius’ lady, 
 When she her ploughman’s luncheon brought, 
 Gave birth to ’neath an oak-tree shady. 
 Your mother’s trade I will not name, 
 Your father shaves before a glass, 
 And though you have a wife, the dame 
 Addresses you as—* Pretty lass.’ 
 
 But yet you dare to criticise 
 My books, and slate them without pity, 
 Though they find favour in the eyes 
 Of men of rank in court and city. 
 Great Silius deems them worth a place, 
 Upon his bookshelves you will meet them, 
 And Regulus admires their grace— 
 In rounded tones will oft repeat them. 
 
 Dear Sura too who lives close by 
 Diana on the Aventine, 
 And thence the Circus can espy, 
 Admires them, just because they’re mine. 
 And most of all, our mighty Chief, 
 On whom the weight of Empire falls, 
 In these light trifles finds relief 
 And often for a volume calls. 
 
 Yet you forsooth have keener wit 
 
 Than in these great ones we shall find. 
 Your taste—Minerva sharpened it, 
 
 And subtle Athens formed your mind. 
 Why, damn it all, the offal meat 
 
 Is far less rank than your behaviour, 
 Which butchers hawk from street to street 
 
 And vex our noses with its savour. 
 
 You dare at me to aim that stuff 
 Which spoils the paper where ’tis written : 
 Well, if you stir my bile enough 
 You'll find yourself severely bitten. 
 My teeth in you will set a mark 
 That barber’s tricks will ne’er erase. 
 So curb your disagreeable bark 
 And don’t attempt a bear to face. 
 
 184 
 
BOOK SIX 
 
 He may at first quite placid be 
 
 And lick your hand in gentle fashion, 
 But if you hurt him you will see 
 
 What bears can do when in a passion. 
 So do not you the strife begin 
 
 Nor yet provoke his foaming jaw. 
 Bite, if you must, an empty skin 
 
 And find some quiet meat to gnaw. 
 
 LXV 
 ON EPIGRAM LXIV 
 
 “ HEXAMETERS for epigrams ’—absurd ! 
 Such breach of rules, you say, is simply awful ! 
 Yet others use that metre—in a word, 
 ‘Tis lawful. 
 But yours are long, you say: That’s lawful too: 
 Many have written so, you can’t deter them, 
 And you can read the distiches if you 
 Prefer them. 
 We'll make a bargain—you shall license me 
 To write long epigrams nor need to clip them, 
 While, Tucca, on your part you shall be free 
 To skip them. 
 
 7 AbD A | 
 THE BOLD AUCTIONEER 
 
 Our friend Gellianus had sent him for sale 
 
 A certain young damsel—whereby hangs a tale. 
 
 She was one of the sort who Suburra frequent 
 
 And bore some plain signs of the life she had spent ; 
 
 So wishing to show there was not any risk— 
 
 For the bidding ran low and was not at all brisk— 
 
 He plucked up his courage and kissed the coy dear, 
 Twice, thrice, and again, just to make matters clear. 
 And what do you think by his courage he got ? 
 
 The one bid—five pounds—was withdrawn on the spot. 
 
 LAV 
 
 Cur tantum eunuchos habeat tua Caelia, quaeris, 
 Pannyche ? Uolt futui Caelia nec parere. 
 185 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 AND AITE 
 
 THE DEATH OF (EULY Gigs 
 
 WEEP for your crime, weep o’er the Lucrine lake, 
 Ye Naiads, till your cries e’en Thetis wake. 
 
 For Eutychos “neath Baiae’s waves you drew 
 And for my Castricus his comrade slew, 
 
 Who was his comfort and his chiefest joy, 
 
 Loved by our bard as Virgil loved his boy. 
 
 Did the nymph see thee naked in the mere 
 And give Alcides back his Hylas dear ? 
 
 Or does the goddess in thy love delight 
 
 And for thy arms neglect Hermaphrodite ? 
 Whate’er the cause of rape so sudden be, 
 Let earth, I pray, and wave be kind to thee. 
 
 b>. Do, 
 
 A PROBLEM 
 
 I DON’T wonder your Bassa wants water to drink ; 
 But why should her daughter? I really can’t think. 
 
 LXX 
 
 HEALVRAES iV bad ie 
 
 His sixtieth harvest-tide is done, 
 
 Nay more, yet by his own confession, 
 Of all his days no single one 
 
 Was lost by fever’s fell oppression. 
 
 At Dason, Alcon, Symmachus, 
 
 He points a gay and mocking finger ; 
 Ah, friend, ’tis different with us, 
 
 Though long our life may seem to linger. 
 
 Fever and weariness and pain— 
 Of many days have these bereft us ; 
 Leave,these unreckoned, few remain, 
 And little of real life is left us. 
 186 
 
BOOK SIx 
 
 Aye, we are babes of tender age— 
 To count by years is idle dreaming— 
 The Trojan king, the Pylian sage, 
 Were only old to outward seeming. 
 
 The blunderer who deems them so, 
 Misreckons life and much mistakes it, 
 
 He thinks ’tis drawing breath—we know 
 *Tis health alone that mars or makes it. 
 
 * LXXI 
 
 LHP ORE LORN. 
 
 TELETHUSA knows well how to dance a fandango 
 When the castanets sound or a soft wanton tango, 
 
 A charmer who could have set Pelias on fire 
 
 Or tempted King Priam to leave Hector’s pyre. 
 To-day she has got her old man on the rack : 
 
 She was sold as a slave, and as mistress bought back. 
 
 EX A 
 SACKILEGE 
 
 ONCE a Cilician rascal tried 
 
 To raid a garden: far and wide 
 
 He searched, but nothing he espied 
 Above the barren sod, 
 
 Except the stone Priapus, foe 
 
 To thieves, but he was loth to go 
 
 All empty-handed thence—and so 
 He stole the guardian god ! 
 
 lee LLL 
 Heo LALUPMOm PALA PUSS 
 
 *Twas no rude ditcher made me with rough knife, 
 The steward’s work am I and true to life. 
 For Hilarus upon these smiling hills 
 The richest farm in Caere’s village tills. 
 187 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 I seem not made of wood, so clear I’m shown ; 
 Nor shall my emblem to the fire be thrown. 
 For look, this cypress phallus deathless stands, 
 As though it came from Phidias’ own hands. 
 So, neighbours, to Priapus’ honour pay, 
 
 And from these fourteen acres keep away. 
 
 ve 1D OG 
 
 THESTOOTALESS GULSa 
 
 THouGH the three hairs he’s left make smooth paths 
 on his pate, 
 And he takes the best place at the table, 
 And uses a toothpick ; it’s not what he ate. 
 He’s no teeth and to bite is not able. 
 
 PADD.) 
 TO PONTIA 
 
 A THRUSH, and a cake, and a leg of a hare, 
 
 You send me, most delicate food you declare. 
 
 I won’t give them away ; they shall stay on my shelf. 
 But—I don’t think somehow I shall eat them myself. 
 
 TU asay 
 
 ON A ROMAN TOMB IN DACIA 
 
 HERE Fuscus lies, who did our Emperor guard 
 And in the Palace keep his civic ward. 
 
 Yet this at least is granted him by Fate ; 
 
 His tombstone need not fear the foemen’s hate. 
 For now the Dacians to our empire bow 
 
 And as their lord the victor’s shade allow. 
 
 7 LV At 
 LOMA EK 
 
 YOU'RE as poor as a church-mouse, as strong as a horse, 
 
 As brisk as a prize-fighter full of brute force, 
 
 And yet you delight on six shoulders to ride, 
 
 In spite of the fact that you’re laughed at and guyed 
 188 
 
BOOK SIX 
 
 More than you would be if you strolled through the town 
 Quite stripped to the buff and to all naked shown. 
 
 A giant astride of a mule his own size 
 
 Would not be a mark for more wondering eyes ; 
 
 A mahout on an elephant would not attract 
 
 More scornful attention, and that is a fact. 
 
 Don’t you see how your litter in all our throats sticks ; 
 Why even your corpse should not be borne by six. 
 
 LXXVIII 
 
 CUOREIWOKSE ETHAN DISEASE 
 
 ONE eye was gone and the other dim, 
 But a notable thirst had he. 
 
 ‘Drink no more wine,’ said the leech to him, 
 ‘Or blind you. will surely be! ’ 
 
 He smiled and said to his sight, ‘ Good-bye,’ 
 
 And he drank both deep and long— 
 What next? He poisoned his only eye, 
 But his thirst is well and strong. 
 
 cA LASS 
 
 BORIC US: 
 
 IN spite of your luck you seem gloomy of late: 
 Take care, or Dame Fortune will dub you ‘ Ingrate. 
 
 ? 
 
 LXXX 
 
 ROSES IN WINTER 
 
 HER winter roses Nile hath sent to thee, 
 Caesar, in boastful mood and deemed them rare ; 
 But now her envoy marvelling to see 
 Thy gate, holds Pharos’ garden poor and bare ; 
 He marked sweet Flora’s treasure everywhere 
 And splendour from the Paestan rosaries ; 
 Where’er he turned there met his wandering eyes 
 A street ablaze with wreaths, a flower-clad Rome. 
 Egypt, thou canst not match our Roman skies, 
 Send us thy sheaves and take our roses home. 
 189 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 amd BP @,, Ge, | 
 TOC CHARIDEMU.S 
 
 You must have a grudge against every poor bather 
 
 When you plunge in the bath and begin there to lather 
 Your middle. What’s that ? ‘ You are washing your head.’ 
 We’ld rather it was then your middle instead. 
 
 AOA 
 
 TOM IORTEUS 
 
 A FELLOw last week scanned me this way and that, 
 As though I were a slave or a prize-fighter fat 
 
 That he wanted to purchase, and when with his eye 
 And finger he’d shown me to each passer-by, 
 
 He ventured at last to come nearer a bit, 
 
 And said: ‘ Tell me, pray, are you Martial the wit, 
 With whose funny verses all men are acquainted, 
 Who are not with Philistine boorishness tainted.’ 
 
 I bowed and replied with my most civil leer—: 
 “The person you mention you see standing here.’ 
 “Why then,’ quoth the stranger, ‘that shocking bad gown ? ’ 
 ‘I’m a shocking bad poet,’ said I, ‘ that I own.’ 
 For a bard one such contretemps surely’s enough. 
 So send me, dear friend, a new gown of good stuff. 
 
 sabal 89,09, G0 | 
 TO DOMITIAN 
 
 THE debt that Etruscus the elder doth owe 
 
 To his son’s fond petition all men must allow 
 
 Is due, Sire, to thee from them both on this day ; 
 For the lightning thou sent thou hast bid pass away. 
 Ah, would that Jove’s fires were equally kind ; 
 
 Then seldom full use for them all would he find. 
 From thy bounty, Etruscus, two favours has earned : 
 With his father to exile he went—and returned. 
 
 FOL OEXALY, 
 
 RIGHT JUDGMENT 
 
 ON eight shoulders Philippus is carried along : 
 If you think he’s all right, you yourself are all wrong. 
 190 
 
BOOK SIX 
 LXXXV 
 ONT PRES DEATH. OF (RUFUS 
 
 THE book is done, but dead the dear desire 
 That you should read it, friend ; you are afar. 
 An evil land seen ’neath a baneful star 
 
 Sends but thy dust and ashes to thy sire. 
 
 Weep, sad Bononia, orphaned of thy son, 
 Let all Aemilius’ way resound with grief. 
 How bright that piety, that life how brief, 
 
 But five Olympiads passed and all was done ! 
 
 Rufus, you loved to con my verses gay, 
 To hold them in your heart in memory, 
 Take now my sorrowing song and let it be 
 The incense of a friend from far away. 
 
 LXXXVI 
 emis Le he PORT 
 
 O SETINE vintage, queenly snow, 
 Ye generous bumpers, tell me— 
 
 When shall I drink again with no 
 Begrudging leech to quell me. 
 
 Unworthy of the gift divine 
 That precious Bacchus offers, 
 The graceless loon prefers to wine 
 The wealth of Midas’ coffers. 
 
 May he that doth your joys withhold 
 Amass from every quarter 
 
 All Libya’s corn, all Tagus’ gold, 
 But let him drink hot water ! 
 
 ey AOSV LE 
 
 TO DOMITIAN 
 
 May thou and God bestow 
 Whate’er is due to thee. 
 
 If aught to me men owe, 
 Grant, thou and God, my plea. 
 
 IQI 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 AVL 
 
 TO CAECILIANUS 
 
 I CHANCED yesterday on my patron to call 
 
 And used his bare name without titles at all. 
 
 Do you ask what it cost me, this freedom of tongue ? 
 I was docked of my dole, and I’m half-a-crown wrong. 
 
 irl b>, O,@.0 Be 
 FULL MEASURE 
 
 WHEN our friend Squire Allgood had got through a lot 
 
 Of liquor last night, he called loud for a pot. 
 
 So they brought him a jar which himself he had drained 
 And alone put away all the wine it contained, 
 
 While he then most exactly and quite at his leisure 
 
 Repaid to the vessel his debt in full measure. 
 
 Do you wonder the jar all his liquor could hold ? 
 
 There’s no need, my good friend: he drinks neat, I am told. 
 
 sf DS 
 TO GELLIA 
 “I HAVE only one lover ’—you loudly persist. 
 The sin is the worse: you're a rank bigamist. 
 ta ACI 
 POR CO Tus 
 Our lord’s sacred edicts adultery ban. 
 
 But you need not fear ; for you are not a man. 
 
 XCIT 
 THE TOKEN 
 
 A SNAKE round Ammianus’ cup doth twine, 
 Wrought there by Myron’s art: 1’faith, ’tis fit 
 His cup should bear a serpent as a sign 
 Of the vile poison that he drinks from it. 
 
 192 
 
BOOK SIX 
 + XCIII 
 
 mete LOU LTDA STS 
 
 THAIS smells even worse than a fuller’s old crock, 
 When, set in the street, it succumbs to a knock, 
 A he-goat when rutting, a lion’s foul breath, 
 
 A skin of a dog done by tanners to death, 
 
 A chicken gone rotten while still in the shell, 
 
 A jar filled with sauce that has not kept too well. 
 So wishing somehow to disguise this foul reek, 
 Whenever she comes to the baths in the week, 
 She’s covered with unguent and vinegared flour 
 And layers of powder at least three or four. 
 
 But spite of these dodges, and do what she will, 
 The fact is that Thais of Thais smells still. 
 
 EX CLV 
 
 ON CALPETIANUS 
 
 WHENE’ER he dines he’s served on gold in state, 
 In town or out, in company, alone, 
 
 Aye at aninn! Has he no meaner plate ? 
 No, he has none ; for this is not his own. 
 
 193 N 
 

 
w Eo 
 
 a a a” 
 
 
 
 Sues 
 
 a 
 
 
 
on™, 
 
 
 
BOOK SEVEN 
 
 I 
 ON DOMITIAN’S CUIRASS 
 
 Tuy breastplate, dread as Pallas’ own, whereon 
 The Gorgon dare not gaze, now, Caesar, don ! 
 Seems it but mortal armour? It shall be 
 
 A very Aegis when it touches thee. 
 
 cl 
 ON THE SAME 
 
 Tuovu who to Sarmate arrows ne’er wilt yield, 
 More trusty than the War God’s Getic shield, 
 Woven from countless boars with talons bright 
 And proof against e’en Meleager’s might, 
 Rejoice, good cuirass, in thy happy part 
 
 To guard our god and touch his beating heart. 
 Go thou unharmed and soon, the triumph won, 
 Restore our chief the palm-leaved gown to don, 
 
 Il 
 THE REASON 
 
 You ask me why my books were never sent ? 
 For fear you might return the compliment. 
 
 IV 
 THE ESSENTIAL 
 
 To pallid skin his verse is due, 
 To this alone we owe it ; 
 
 He thought that interesting hue 
 Enough to make a poet. 
 
 197 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 Ld AVA 
 LO DOMITIAN ON THE DANUBE 
 
 Ir for thy people’s love thou hast a care, 
 
 And wilt a joyful issue grant to prayer, 
 
 Then, sire, give back our god: Rome grudges thee 
 To foreign lands though thou victorious be. 
 
 Our foemen have the Lord of Earth in sight, 
 
 And in thy face find terror and delight. 
 
 wate 
 ONSET Ea Aves 
 
 DotuH Caesar now to Ausonia wend his way 
 
 From that far land where northern frosts hold sway ? 
 No token sure have we, but Rumour’s voice— 
 
 Fain would I think her true—cries loud ‘ Rejoice.’ 
 Glad faces at the notice-boards are seen 
 
 And martial spears are wreathed with garlands green. 
 Soon Rome thy glorious triumph’s tale shall tell, 
 And hail thee once again ‘ Invincible.’ 
 
 But now, that we in joy may more believe, 
 
 Come thou thyself the laurel to receive. 
 
 mevLL 
 
 ON DHE FOAM E 
 
 E’EN though the wintry North and Peucé’s ice 
 And wanton Rhine, his horn now shattered thrice, 
 And Danube glowing with fierce horse’s feet, 
 Would keep thee, sire, while thou dost bring defeat 
 Upon their perjured realms, thou canst not stay | 
 Now longer from thy people: hark, they pray 
 Alone for thy return, whom Lord Supreme 
 
 And Father of the World we Romans deem. 
 
 In mind and thought we all are there with thee, 
 And in the circus so thy face we see, 
 
 That people know not, when the race is done, 
 Whether the Sparrow or the Tiger’s won. 
 
 198 
 
BOOK SEVEN 
 aL L 
 ON THE SAME 
 
 Now, now, ye Muses, sport ; for ’tis the time 
 
 Our victor god returns from northern clime. 
 
 Thou first, December, bade the folk rejoice ; 
 
 Soon we may cry—‘ He comes ’—with lifted voice. 
 Happy thy lot! We could not let thee go 
 
 If January’s joys thou didst bestow. 
 
 Soon shall wreathed soldiers fling their jests afar, 
 Walking attendant on thy laurelled car ; 
 
 For Triumph loves the merry song and joke, 
 
 And even Caesar then will banter brook. 
 
 ibs 
 A PROMISING YOUTH 
 
 AT sixty years of age is he 
 A man of promise still : 
 Methinks he needs eternity 
 That promise to fulfil ! 
 
 x 
 iH feeb us VDI) Y 
 
 Eros and Linus are debauched, you say. 
 Their private life is no concern to you ; 
 
 If Matho’s mistress costs him thousands, pray, 
 Does that expense deplete your revenue ° 
 And, seeing you can snore the whole night through, 
 
 What matter though Sertorius drink till day ? 
 Is Lupus deep in debt? If you refuse 
 To give or lend to him you will not lose. 
 
 Your own concerns that need attending to 
 You carefully ignore and thrust away— 
 
 Your clothes unpaid for still, tho’ far from new, 
 That no one now will trust you for a day ; 
 Item, your lady is a trifle gay ; 
 
 Item, your daughter’s dower is overdue ; 
 
 So with a dozen points; but I agree 
 That your affairs are no concern to me. 
 
 199 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 etl 
 TO PUDENS 
 
 You ask me, dear Pudens, to make my corrections 
 Myself in your copy and cure imperfections. 
 
 You're really too kind and too easy to please, 
 
 When you want my own hand in such trifles as these. 
 
 Sek 
 TO FAUSTINUS 
 
 So may the Emperor read me with calm brow 
 And to my jests his wonted favour show, 
 
 E’en whom I justly hate I ne’er revile, 
 
 Nor strive for glory with a scoffing smile. 
 
 Yet what avails it? Knaves to me assign 
 Their own scurrilities and call them mine, 
 
 And shrinking cowardly from the honest light 
 Under my name breathe out their snakish spite. 
 My jests you know are harmless, that I swear 
 By Fame’s bright spirit, and by the Muses dear 
 And by thy love, kind reader, who by me 
 
 Art judged a god, from cruel envy free. 
 
 XIII 
 
 A MIRACLE 
 
 In Tibur’s sunshine she was told 
 
 That ivory though stained and old 
 May win its whiteness back ; 
 
 Alcides’ hills have potent air ; 
 
 A little while she sojourned there 
 And now returns jet black. 
 
 By) 
 
 LOTACLUS 
 
 My girl has just suffered a most cruel blow, 
 Her favourite plaything she’s lost, you must know. 
 It was not a sparrow like that which of yore 
 Catullus to Lesbia could not restore. 
 
 200 
 
BOOK SEVEN 
 
 Nor was it a dove such as Stella to-day 
 
 From his darling Ianthis saw stolen away. 
 
 My girl is not taken by trifles so vain, 
 
 And the loss of a bird would not cause her much pain. 
 She has lost her pet page-boy who promised to be 
 
 In his virile appendage a real prodigy. 
 
 ne 
 PwearotAlUn OF THE BOY ARGYNNUS 
 
 Has Hylas fled the fountain’s naiad queen, 
 
 Or who is this by Ianthis’ waters seen ? 
 
 Well is it that Alcides’ shrine is nigh 
 
 And that he can these wanton waves espy. 
 Serve then thy spring, Argynnus, nor have care 
 Of amorous nymphs: the god himself beware. 
 
 XVI 
 MEARE LY CUSTOMER 
 
 I’vE not a shilling left ; what can I do 
 Save sell your presents? May I sell them you ? 
 
 XVII 
 ON THE LIBRARY OF JULIUS MARTIALIS 
 
 Far o’er the town thy window looks, 
 Fair library, nor hears its din : 
 
 Shrine of the graver Muse’s books, 
 Can gay Thalia venture in ? 
 
 Upon thy lowest shelf may stand 
 These seven scrolls of wit and mirth 
 Purged throughly by the author’s hand— 
 *Tis this alone that gives them worth— 
 
 Yet guard them well, be proud in them, 
 Though small my gift of love may be, 
 The world shall hail it as the gem 
 Of Julius’ far-famed library. 
 201 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 XVIII 
 
 Cum tibi sit facies de qua nec femina possit 
 Dicere, cum corpus nulla litura notet, 
 
 Cur te tam rarus cupiat repetatque fututor 
 Miraris ? Uitium est non leue, Galla, tibi. 
 
 Accessi quotiens ad opus mixtisque mouemur 
 Inguinibus, cunnus non tacet, ipsa taces. 
 
 Di facerent ut tu loquereris et ille taceret : 
 Offendor cunni garrulitate tui. 
 
 Pedere te mallem : namque hoc nec inutile dicit 
 Symmachus et risum res mouet ista simul. 
 
 Quis ridere potest fatui poppysmata cunni ? 
 Cum sonat hic, cui non mentula mensque cadit ? 
 
 Dic aliquid saltem clamosoque obstrepe cunno 
 Et, si adeo muta es, disce uel inde loqui. 
 
 XIX 
 ON A FRAGMENT OF THE ARkKGO 
 
 THOUGH but a worthless log it seem to be, 
 Of old through seas, unknown before, it steered ; 
 Unscathed it passed the Clashing Rocks, nor feared 
 
 The deadlier perils of the Scythian Sea ; 
 
 And now, though Time, the Victor, vanquish thee, 
 Brave plank, what stately ship is so revered ? 
 
 ft, O.< 
 LARGO 
 
 For vile greedy tricks Santra beats all creation. 
 When he hears of a dinner, for his invitation 
 He angles for weeks, and then hurries off straight 
 To the banqueting hall lest perchance he be late. 
 To start with he asks—‘ seven helpings of boar,’ 
 And snatches some oysters to add to his score : 
 Then seizes the legs and the wings of a hare, 
 And lyingly shouts—‘ I have had no field-fare.’ 
 With mouthfuls of cake his soiled napkin he stains 
 Wherein a small scrap of pomegranate remains, 
 And raisins and mushrooms, and figs oozing ripe 
 And a horrible skin from the stuffing of tripe. 
 202 
 
BOOK SEVEN 
 
 When the napkin at last no more fragments can hold 
 He hides his gnawed bones in his toga’s warm fold, 
 And with them a pigeon devoid of its head, 
 
 Nor thinks any harm his hand downward to spread 
 And gather the pieces the dogs would not eat 
 
 And fill up with heel-taps a jar at his feet. 
 
 At the end when all’s finished up two hundred stairs 
 With his load on his shoulder he gaily repairs, 
 
 And when to his garret he safely has got, 
 
 The very next morning—“e sells all the lot. 
 
 i OG 
 ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF LUCAN’S BIRTH 
 
 Tus is the day which, proud of that great birth, 
 Gave Lucan to thee, Polla, and to earth. 
 
 Ah, cruel Nero! murder ’twas most foul. 
 
 This crime at least lies heavy on thy soul. 
 
 TAAL 
 ONETHE SAME 
 
 SMILE, all ye Muses, on this sacred morn 
 When Lucan, bard of Phoebus, erst was born; 
 Since that great day ’tis only just, I deem, 
 Baetis should mingle with Castalia’s stream. 
 
 Te LLL 
 
 ON THE SAME 
 
 CoME, Phoebus, come ; as when thou didst inspire 
 
 The second singer of our Roman quire 
 
 To thunderous strains of war. What shall I pray 
 
 From heaven that may befit this glorious day ? 
 
 Only that Polla still her love may show 
 
 To his great shade, and he her love may know. 
 203 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 XXIV 
 
 THE MISCHIEF-MAKER 
 
 THovu would’st embroil me with my Juvenal ! 
 What wilt not dare? A tongue so treacherous 
 Might sour the love of Pylades to gall, 
 Or sever Theseus from Pirithous, 
 Pollux from Castor, rob Amphinomus 
 Or Agamemnon of a brother’s heart ; 
 No fouler thing can be,—I curse thee thus, 
 Mayst thou continue even what thou art ! 
 
 el 
 LOCA RIVALS EOER 
 
 Your verses are full of a sugary grace, 
 
 As spotless and pure as a well-powdered face, 
 
 Not an atom of salt or suspicion of gall, 
 
 So how can they but on an audience pall ! 
 
 Even food does not please if the cooking’s too simple, 
 And cheeks lack in charm when they haven’t a dimple. 
 A child may like apples and figs without savour ; 
 
 But give me the sort that have got a sharp flavour. 
 
 XXVI 
 TO APCLEINARTS 
 
 Go seek my friend and, if his cares permit, 
 Give him this book whatever be its worth ; 
 
 Some it must have, for he hath part in it, 
 And let his taste refine my simpler mirth ; 
 
 Go then my verse and, if he smile on thee, 
 Seek that protection I have known of yore ; 
 
 Such passion for my merry muse hath he 
 That I myself could hardly love her more. | 
 
 Needst thou a patron mighty to defend 
 
 If spite assail thee ? Go and seek my friend. 
 
 204 
 
BOOK SEVEN 
 
 XXVII 
 ON A PRESENT OF A WILD BOAR 
 
 On Tuscan acorns fed, in monster size 
 
 He yields to Meleager’s boar alone, 
 
 Now pierced by Dexter’s glittering spear he lies 
 In bulk that makes my humble kitchen groan ; 
 Hearth gods, grow fat, in unctuous vapour bask, 
 Strip a whole hill for festal logs—but hold ! 
 How vast a mound of spice the cook will ask 
 And for a crafty sauce good wine and old ; 
 Return, thou costly brute ; my fire aghast 
 Shrinks from thy bulk: ’T%s cheaper far to fast. 
 
 XXVIII 
 INOh IME POLO RS 
 
 FRIEND may your woods where Dian roves 
 Grow still more fair for you, 
 
 Though oft you lop the leafy groves 
 May these their grace renew. 
 
 Rich olives in Tartessus grow, 
 Be yours more full and fine ; 
 
 And your vast cisterns overflow 
 With pure and sweetest wine. 
 
 Let all admire that silver tongue 
 That court and forum sways, 
 
 And o’er your doors the palm be hung 
 To tell the victor’s praise ; 
 
 But let the Saturnalia bring 
 A little holiday, 
 
 Then hear these merry songs I sing 
 And polish them I pray— 
 
 ‘A parlous task,’ you say, ‘ to tell 
 Plain truth to any bard !’ 
 
 You love to hear the truth so well, 
 To tell it is not hard. 
 
 ni POMBE 
 LOSEHE SLY ELS 
 
 DEAR Thestylus, Voconius Victor’s joy 
 
 And pleasant torment, most beloved boy, 
 
 I pray that fair without your locks you seem 
 And that your bard no maid more comely deem. 
 205 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 A little while his learned scrolls lay by 
 While to your lord I read my poetry. 
 
 So great Maecenas, who could Virgil hear, 
 Let Marsus’ dark Melaenis charm his ear. 
 
 XXX 
 RAR VEXOLICNLOViEn 
 
 CAELIA, you love a Teuton swain, 
 An Asiatic stirs your pity, 
 
 For you swart Indians cross the main, 
 Copts flock to you from Pharos’ city. 
 
 A Jew, a Scythian cavalier, 
 
 Can please you—but I can’t discover 
 Why you, a Roman, are austere 
 
 To none except a Roman lover. 
 
 XXXI 
 
 COUNTRY PRODUCE? 
 
 THESE cackling fowls and eggs I send you, 
 These Chian figs grown ripe in tempered heat, 
 The shaggy kid for which his dam doth bleat, 
 
 The cabbage white with rime of frozen dew 
 
 That hath not marred the olives’ tender hue, 
 Think you that all are from my country-seat ? 
 
 Nay, Regulus, you will not understand, 
 Naught in my starveling field could you descry 
 Save me ; far Umbria doth your need supply 
 And rich suburban gardens nigh at hand : 
 What Tusculum doth yield at your demand 
 I hunt through all the market-place to buy. 
 
 FDS ODE 
 
 LO MATIC 
 
 OF an eloquent race you're reviving the name, 
 
 And let not your house lie forgotten by fame : 
 
 Minerva’s good votaries ever attend you 
 
 And sages delight their wise leisure to lend you. 
 206 
 
BOOK SEVEN 
 
 Other youths with a thick-eared old boxer you see 
 
 And a filthy masseur takes his scarcely-earned fee ; 
 
 But you don’t prepare for your bath with a ball— 
 Whether bladder or feather or solid withal— 
 
 Nor strike with blunt sword at some poor dummy image, 
 Nor darting with speed snatch the ball from the scrimmage, 
 Nor yet waste your time at the wrestler’s toil 
 
 With arms set akimbo all covered with oil. 
 
 You go for a run where the clear Virgo flows 
 
 Or where Europe’s bull in the portico shows. 
 
 To trifle with games in a square, I confess, 
 
 When one might take a run, is just sheer idleness. 
 
 0, OO. 4 9 6 
 TO CINNA 
 
 Your toga is filthy, your shoes white as snow ; 
 
 But your toga hangs down so your feet do not show. 
 Pull it up, silly fellow, and let them appear : 
 
 As it is their effect is quite wasted, I fear. 
 
 > XLV 
 
 UVetoee bArHAS (OR CHARINUS 
 
 How is it, you ask, that a rascal so low, 
 
 As Charinus could yet this one service bestow ? 
 
 I'll explain. Was not Nero a monster confessed, 
 
 Yet are not his baths still accounted the best ° 
 
 At this some base knave with a sly sneering nod 
 
 May remark—‘ To the gifts of our master and god 
 
 You prefer something else ’—Nay, that is your vile fancy. 
 I preferred Nero’s baths to the baths of a Nancy. 
 
 XXXV 
 
 INGUINA succinctus nigra tibi seruos aluta 
 Stat, quotiens calidis tota foueris aquis. 
 
 Sed meus, ut de me taceam, Laecania, seruos 
 Iudaeum nuda sub cute pondus habet, 
 
 Sed nudi tecum iuuenesque senesque lauantur. 
 An sola est serui mentula uera tui ? 
 
 Ecquid femineos sequeris, matrona, recessus, 
 Secretusque tua, cunne, lauaris aqua ° 
 
 207 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 XXXVI 
 
 A*REMINDER SO STELLA 
 
 WHAT time my rugged cot endured the bane 
 Of winter’s drenching floods, your kindly care 
 Sent wherewithal the havoc to repair 
 
 And so my roof defies the sudden rain. 
 
 Think how rude Boreas roars ; the boon is vain 
 That clothes the farm but leaves the farmer bare. 
 
 XXXVIT 
 
 THE DEATH SIGNAL 
 
 You know the dread signal of death I suppose ? 
 But one whimsical quaestor has lately ordained 
 A new one, and said if he once blew his nose 
 It was sentence of death on the culprit arraigned. 
 Till winter drew on was the custom maintained, 
 Then the judge caught catarrh from December’s chill breath 
 And his colleagues rushed up and his hands they restrained 
 Or all the accused had been sentenced to death. 
 
 XXXVIII 
 ON TWO MONSTROSITIES SHOWN IN THE CIRCUS 
 
 THE Cyclops of old, could he only behold 
 Polyphemus, would start with surprise, 
 
 And Scylla for shame’s sake would turn from her namesake 
 So ghastly their faces and size. 
 
 Ah, would it were fated the pair should be mated 
 Their terror they hardly could smother, 
 
 Just think of the sight when each shuddered with fright 
 And fainted at view of the other ! 
 
 XXXIX 
 
 PRETENCE COMESAURGE 
 
 FRIEND Caelius vowed he would no longer bear 
 
 To run and dance attendance everywhere 
 
 On Patrons, face their haughtiness and scorn 
 
 Or be compelled to greet them every morn. 
 208 
 
BOOK SEVEN 
 
 So to escape these toils he feigned the gout, 
 
 But, fearing lest his patron found him out, 
 
 With drugs he smeared and bandaged both his feet, 
 And crawled with dragging footsteps down the street ; 
 So well he feigned disease, when he had not it, 
 
 That now he shams no more; for he has got it. 
 
 ios. Le 
 
 ON THE TOMB OF CLAUDIUS ETRUSCUS 
 AND HIS WIFE 
 
 HERE lies the sage, long in the palace known, 
 
 Who bore the Emperor’s favour and his frown 
 Undaunted. By their children’s love at rest 
 Husband and wife are of one grave possessed. 
 
 She died in youth, robbed of her life’s spring bloom ; 
 The father to his ninetieth year did come. 
 
 Yet all who see his children’s tears believe 
 
 That they for one untimely taken grieve. 
 
 XLI 
 
 Poe CHUIZEN OF THE! WORLD 
 
 You boast ‘ The world’s my country!’ Be it so; 
 It takes all sorts to make a world you know! 
 
 XLII 
 
 HOPCASERICUS 
 
 WHO can dispute with you the meed 
 For tuneful verse or noble deed ? 
 Not I, who readily concede 
 
 The palm ; 
 *Tis ease and quiet I pursue— 
 ‘Then why send feeble verses?’ True, 
 Yet coals to Newcastle can do 
 
 No harm. 
 
 209 O 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 XLITI 
 SHILTLY- SHALLY 
 
 THE best you can do is to grant my demand, 
 Your second-best course to refuse it off-hand ; 
 I welcome assent and denial excuse—- 
 
 But, Cinna, you neither consent nor refuse. 
 
 THC LLY) 
 TO. OVIDIUS, WITH A PORTRAIT OF (CAESOH 
 
 HERE in this bust your dear Caesonius lives, 
 And in the wax his very look survives. 
 
 Nero condemned him ; but you boldly dared 
 To condemn the tyrant and his exile shared. 
 You would not in the consul’s cortége go, 
 
 But went, a banished man, to Scylla’s flow. 
 
 If names I write shall long endurance have 
 And these my books survive my mortal grave, 
 Know, future ages and this age to-day, 
 
 His care for Seneca you did him repay. 
 
 GME 
 LO THE SAME 
 
 *Tis he, the friend of Seneca, not less 
 Beloved than dear Serenus of the sage, 
 Whose kindly greetings writ on many a page 
 Serve still to testify his tenderness. 
 
 And you that crossed the wide Sicilian sea 
 To follow him and share his exile drear, 
 Ovid, we praise you still and hold you dear, 
 Who scorned a monarch’s frenzied tyranny. 
 
 The days of old of Pylades may prate 
 Who to a wrathful woman’s victim clave, 
 Thine, Ovid, was the nobler part, to brave— 
 And all for love—a. Nero’s cruel hate. 
 210 : 
 
BOOK SEVEN 
 
 XLVI 
 LOePRISGOS 
 
 WHILST you attempt your present to commend 
 In verses fit for Homer’s approbation, 
 You suffer agonies, ambitious friend, 
 And I starvation ; 
 ‘Tis Martial suffers while your Muse is mute ; 
 The rich can wait for verse—on them bestow it : 
 Hard cash, tho’ unaccompanied, would suit 
 A needy poet. 
 
 TOD YLT 
 
 MomLiClINIUS.SURA, ON HIS RECOVERY 
 FROM SICKNESS 
 
 SuRA, ‘mid learned men most famed of all, 
 Whose tongue our ancient grandsires did recall, 
 Oh by what grace did Fate to us restore 
 
 Thy life which near had come to Lethe’s shore ! 
 Our fears were past ; at ease we wept and sighed 
 And in our thoughts at least our friend had died. 
 
 But death’s dark king that odium could not brave, 
 And to the fates again their distaff gave. 
 
 Thou knowest now what grief thy false death brought 
 And canst enjoy posthumous fame unsought. 
 
 Live as on booty then: pluck joy in haste : 
 
 Life thus restored has not one day to waste. 
 
 PVE 
 
 LOSANNIUS 
 
 AT three hundred tables your fare might be spread, 
 
 But with you we find three hundred waiters instead. 
 They snatch off the plates and make each course fly fast. 
 Enough! I don’t care for a walking-repast. 
 
 2i1 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 oat. bal Br 
 TO SEVERUS 
 
 Eaes for your meal and dessert apples, friend, 
 As gifts from my suburban home I send. 
 
 rly 
 ON A FOUNTAIN 
 
 FOUNTAIN wherein Ianthis doth delight, 
 
 Glory of garden and of mansion bright, 
 
 Where youths in marble beauty deck the mead, 
 And each cool wave reflects a Ganymede, 
 What does Alcides in yon woodland shrine ? 
 Why holds the god a grot so near to thine ? 
 Does he keep guard against the Naiads, pray, 
 Lest every Hylas should be stolen away ? 
 
 Ll 
 
 LO ,URBICGGS 
 
 You want to hear my verse, but not to buy it ? 
 If that’s your longing, you can gratity it : 
 Find Auctus (near Mars’ temple is his dwelling, 
 Perhaps you know the man and need no telling) 
 In civic as in legal lore a leader, 
 He is himself my book and no mere reader. 
 A written scroll could not record it better, 
 He reels it off, and never drops a letter, 
 So if he said ’twas his, all would believe him, 
 But were my fame diminished, that would grieve him. 
 Call about four, till then he’s not at leisure, 
 And dine @ deux ; he will recite with pleasure ; 
 The while you drink, declaiming endless verse for you ; 
 If you are bored, why then so much the worse for you: 
 Cry ‘ Hold—enough,’ yet on he still will run with it, 
 You cannot stop him once he has begun with it. 
 
 212 
 
BOOK SEVEN 
 LII 
 INOE Y MOL OWNERS 
 
 FRIEND, it is pleasant that you read 
 My verse to Celer—if indeed 
 He cares to hear ; 
 But since he ruled my native shore 
 Where none was feared and trusted more, 
 I shrink in fear ; 
 No common auditor is he, 
 And such a critic well may be 
 A judge severe. 
 
 Hd 
 TO UMBER 
 
 ALL the presents this year that at Christmas you got 
 You have sent on to me—and they are a choice lot! 
 Seven toothpicks, twelve tablets, a napkin, a mug, 
 
 A half-peck of beans, and a sponge, and a jug 
 
 Of Laletan wine, some dried prunes, and a casket 
 
 Of Picenian olives, and figs in a basket. 
 
 I think that in all they were worth half a crown ; 
 
 Yet it took eight big footmen to carry them down. 
 You'ld have found it less trouble one page-boy to send 
 With five pounds of plate as your present, my friend. 
 
 LEV 
 
 OMENS 
 
 EACH morn you tell some evil dream you've had 
 About me, till you drive me nearly mad ; 
 To charms I have resorted to divine 
 The omen ; that has used up all my wine, 
 My salted meal, whole mounds of frankincense, 
 And half my flocks and herds—a vain expense. 
 Pigs, fowls, and eggs are gone ; for mercy’s sake 
 Do dream about yourself—or stay awake. 
 
 213 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 PI BANS 
 TORGHRES EUS 
 
 THOUGH you send me no presents I’d not care a bit 
 If it were not that Tom, Dick, and Harry, and Kit 
 Get plenty. The next time you play dirty tricks, 
 I’ll ask you on some Jewish gentry to fix. 
 
 EMAL 
 
 TO, RABIKIUS, ARCHITECISUR 
 DOMITIAN’S PALACE 
 
 To heaven thou must in thought at least have come 
 Who didst design our Emperor’s palace home. 
 
 Were Phidian Jove due lodging to receive, 
 
 Pisa would beg our God thy aid to give. 
 
 LVII 
 LADY") FAVOURS 
 
 HE was great with the gloves, but the lady he loves 
 Said boxing must now be deserted ; 
 
 A Knight she has made him, and so has displayed him 
 As Pollux to Castor converted. 
 
 LAB 
 TO GALLA 
 
 SIX or seven young Nancies already you’ve wed, 
 Allured by their beards and their neatly-brushed head. 
 You test and you try them and find that each one 
 Falls very much short and is much too soon done. 
 So you give him the go-by and try a fresh sheet ; 
 Only there once again disappointment to meet. 
 You had better endeavour a sage to discover 
 With rough, shaggy hair, if you want a true lover. 
 And even with them you may light on a Nan: 
 It is hard for a lady to find a real man. 
 
 214 
 
BOOK SEVEN 
 pei 
 COURT US 
 
 WHEN Caecilian dines, a boar’s always on view. 
 It’s the one guest he has—and a proper one too. 
 
 iy LD, 
 POMPUPIPERSOCA PITOLINUS 
 
 O SACRED ruler of Tarpeia’s hall, 
 
 Whom, while our chief is safe, we Thunderer call ; 
 Let other men to thee petition make 
 
 And ask that they thy gifts divine may take ; 
 But be not wroth with me if naught I crave, 
 
 Nor bounty for myself desire to have. 
 
 For Caesar all my prayers are made to heaven : 
 From Caesar all I need is freely given. 
 
 of 1b a 
 THE OPEN-AIR MARKET 
 
 Bo Lp hucksters had seized on the roads all about, 
 The contents of each shop you would see inside out, 
 Till the Emperor told them to beat a retreat, 
 
 And what was an alley made once more a street. 
 
 No cups chained to pillars to-day are allowed, 
 
 No barbers ply razors unseen in the crowd, 
 
 No longer through mud do our magistrates stray, 
 No longer do cookshops spread out o’er the way 
 Within doors butcher, barber, cook, vintner remain : 
 Rome was one big bazaar ; she’s herself now again. 
 
 [brid t 
 
 REcLusIs foribus grandes percidis, Amille, 
 Et te deprendi, cum facis ista, cupis, 
 Ne quid liberti narrent seruique paterni 
 Et niger obliqua garrulitate cliens. 
 Non pedicari se qui testatur, Amille, 
 Illud saepe facit quod sine teste facit. 
 215 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 LXIII 
 ONNSIDIVUS SLTALICUS 
 
 Con o’er his books that time shall not destroy, 
 His songs well worthy Rome ; but, as ye read, 
 Deem not Pieria was his only joy, 
 That Bacchus’ garland was his only meed. 
 Virgilian fire had touched him not, until 
 His golden tongue had earned a Tully’s fame ; 
 The forum looks with awe upon him still 
 And grateful clients still revere his name. 
 He ruled as consul through the wondrous year, 
 That year made holy by a world made free ; 
 These tasks well wrought, the Muses held him dear 
 And now upon their mountain dwelleth he. 
 
 LXIV 
 
 TO THE BARBER CINNAMUS 
 
 You had won much renown as a barber in town 
 And then got a knighthood by fraud 
 
 Of an amorous lady—the business was shady 
 And led you to hurry abroad ; 
 
 Now your living is gone and the years will drag on, 
 I pity your idle condition, 
 
 You cannot profess to teach grammar—amuch less 
 To be an expert rhetorician ;_ 
 
 Philosophical preaching is vain, so is teaching, 
 No hope at the bar you can harbour, 
 
 And the claque is no good—so you can’t if you would 
 Be anything else but a barber. 
 
 LXV 
 
 LHE OBSTINATE LITIGANT 
 
 You are weary and wan, yet the lawsuit drags on, 
 Now its twentieth year is complete. 
 So you must be a dunce ; it had ended at once 
 Had you only admitted defeat. 
 2106 
 
BOOK SEVEN 
 
 LXVI 
 A POOR INVESTMENT 
 
 In Fabius’ will sole legatee, 
 Why is not Labienus glad ? 
 In courting the testator, he 
 Had spent far more than Fabius had. 
 
 VLE 
 
 PEDICAT pueros tribas Philaenis 
 
 Et tentigine saeuior mariti 
 
 Undenas dolat in die puellas. 
 Harpasto quoque subligata ludit 
 
 Et flauescit haphe, grauesque draucis 
 Halteras facili rotat lacerto, 
 
 Et putri lutulenta de palaestra 
 Uncti uerbere uapulat magistri : 
 
 Nec cenat prius aut recumbit ante 
 Quam septem uomuit meros deunces ; 
 Ad quos fas sibi tunc putat redire, 
 Cum coloephia sedecim comedit. 
 Post haec omnia cum libidinatur, 
 Non fellat (putat hoc parum uirile), 
 Sed plane medias uorat puellas. 
 
 Di mentem tibi dent tuam, Philaeni, 
 Cunnum lingere quae putas uirile. 
 
 LXVIII 
 TOMLIN GAN TLS ROBOS 
 
 BE cautious how you recommend 
 My verses to your father, friend ; 
 The merry quip, the sportive whim, 
 Might hurt a sober soul like him ; 
 But if he likes my wanton work 
 *Twould pass an elder of the Kirk. 
 
 nal B.D, € 
 LTO CANIUS 
 
 BEHOLD Theophila, your promised bride, 
 Whose mind with Attic learning deep is dyed. 
 Well might the garden of the happy sage 
 Claim her and all the Stoic equipage. 
 
 217 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 So little like the common female kind, 
 
 Your books in her a critic sure will find ; 
 
 For e’en Pantaenis cannot her outshine 
 Though she be ranked with the Pierian nine. 
 It was a lover praised fair Sappho’s art, 
 Your maid’s as skilled and has a purer heart. 
 
 LXX 
 
 IPSARUM tribadum tribas, Philaeni, 
 Recte, quam futuis, uocas amicam. 
 
 aed Wop Cd | 
 
 AN UNFORTUNATE FAMILY 
 
 THE wife and the husband both suffer from piles, 
 And so does their daughter, her husband, and boy. 
 The ulcer their steward and bailiff defiles, 
 And every farm-hand who is in their employ ; 
 There are piles on them all, both on young and on old: 
 But piles of farm produce you'll nowhere behold. 
 
 eh EDO. EI 
 
 TG PAULGS 
 
 I HOPE this December will bring you good store : 
 Not trumpery tablets or napkins galore, 
 Nor half pounds of incense—and short weight at that ; 
 But may some rich client or millionaire fat 
 Weigh in with some plate from his family treasure ; 
 Or what will, I know, give you even more pleasure, 
 May you beat all the experts you tackle at chess, 
 And when you play ball in your light athlete’s dress 
 May you win the applause of the well-oiled bystanders, 
 And beat even Polybus with his left-handers. 
 Then if some low fellow should put down to me 
 A lampoon all reeking of base jealousy, 
 Come quick to my aid and protest—‘ This is spite— 
 Such rubbish as that Martial never could write.’ 
 
 218 
 
BOOK SEVEN 
 
 LXXIIl 
 
 TO MAXIMUS 
 
 ONE house upon the Esquiline, 
 One where patricians dwell, 
 And hard beside Diana’s shrine 
 
 You have a third as well. 
 
 You live near mournful Cybele, 
 You’ve Vesta’s fane in view ; 
 Jove’s ancient temple you can see, 
 
 You look upon the new. 
 
 With seven dwellings I despair 
 To find you when I call, 
 
 He who has mansions everywhere 
 Has not a home at all. 
 
 ATER GG 
 
 TO THE GOD MERCURY 
 
 CYLLENE’S glory, heaven’s pride, thou messenger with 
 cunning tongue, 
 
 Whose golden wand with coiling snake doth splendid shine 
 the gods among, 
 
 May thou thy stolen loves attain, fair Venus or young 
 Ganymede, 
 
 And may thy mother’s Ides adorned with bay proclaim some 
 noble deed, 
 
 And Atlas bear a lighter load, if Carpus and Norbana now 
 
 To celebrate the nuptial day when first they met thou wilt 
 allow. 
 
 A pious priest of wisdom he to wisdom pays his gift of love, 
 
 Sending his incense up to thee and faithful also unto Jove. 
 
 SLA 
 
 TO AN AMOROUS OLD WOMAN 
 
 You are ancient and ugly and haven't got money : 
 But yet you expect your full share of love’s honey. 
 219 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 LXXVI 
 TIE eTOADY: 
 
 To feasts and theatres you love to go 
 With men of rank and, when you chance to meet, 
 To lounge with them about a portico 
 Or street. 
 
 They let you bathe and dine with them, but what 
 Your dullard pride will never comprehend 
 
 Is that you are their mountebank, and not 
 Their friend. 
 
 LXXVII 
 PRESENTATION COPIES 
 
 PRESENT you with my books? Not I indeed. 
 I know you want to sell them, not to read. 
 
 LXXVIII 
 POOR FOR HIMSELF 
 
 You dine on skate—or now and then 
 On greasy beans ; what is the reason 
 
 That makes you send to other men 
 The rarest dainties of the season ? 
 
 Boar, oysters, truffles, mullet, hare, 
 You give them. What an aberration, 
 
 To grudge yourself that generous fare 
 And spend your all on ostentation. 
 
 LXXIX 
 A CHOICE BRAND 
 
 HE gave Consular wine when he asked me to dine, 
 ‘What! Opimius’ vintage ? ’ you say, 
 ‘’Tis a brand of renown.’ Nay, my host laid it down, 
 And he was made consul to-day. 
 220 
 
BOOK SEVEN 
 
 * LXXX 
 TO FAUSTINUS 
 
 SINCE now our Roman peace the North refrains, 
 
 And war’s grim trumpets cease their dreadful strains, 
 This little book to Marcellinus send, 
 
 For now to verse his leisure he can lend. 
 
 And if you wish the petty gift to increase 
 
 Send too a page to serve his hours of peace. 
 
 Not such a one as nursed by Getic cattle 
 
 On ice-bound rivers makes his hoopstick rattle, 
 
 But some young Lesbian boy whose cheeks glow warm, 
 Or Spartan yet unscourged by mother’s arm. 
 
 He’ll send to you instead from Hister’s dales 
 
 A serf to feed your sheep in Tibur’s vales. 
 
 LXXXI 
 PROPORTIONS 
 
 You’VE read my poems and condemn 
 Some thirty, so you say, of them : 
 The book’s a good one I submit, 
 
 If there are thirty good in it. 
 
 A MED DOME 
 eit Pe UOT 
 
 MENOPHIL wore for all to see 
 A ‘ ceinturon de chasteteé,’ 
 Big enough for the company. 
 
 I thought he wished his voice to spare 
 And so this trusty guard did wear 
 To keep him from temptation clear. 
 
 But I was wrong: the other night, 
 
 When he was dancing full in sight, 
 
 It fell—he knows the game all right. 
 221 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 LXXXIII 
 
 AN HENDEESS) TADS 
 
 His face is so vast that his barber aghast 
 Perceived, ere his shaving was done, 
 
 A new crop had appeared ; there were whiskers and beard 
 On the side where his task had begun. 
 
 LXXXIV 
 TO SECUNDUS WITH AIS (Bpers 
 
 My portrait painted by a cunning hand 
 Shall follow you, my little book, but go 
 To subject Ister and the Getic land, 
 For there Secundus rules the conquered foe. 
 Well shall he love your petty worth, and know 
 You show him Martial as no picture may ; 
 No Time nor Chance shall mar your brightness, though 
 Apelles’ work has mouldered in decay. 
 
 LXXXV 
 LOSSABEEEUGS 
 
 Your few quatrains are not amiss, 
 
 Your couplets too are neat ; for this 
 You earn a mild regard, 
 
 But little fame, for many men 
 
 Can write good verses now and then— 
 To make a book is hard. 
 
 LXXXVI 
 THE REASON AND EXCUSE 
 
 You always asked me to attend 
 Your birthday feasts when not your friend ; 
 Then why this change—so sudden too ? 
 For years you tried and proved me true, 
 Yet now at last you leave me out— 
 I know the cause beyond a doubt ; 
 
 222 
 
BOOK SEVEN 
 
 No Spanish plate in compliment, 
 
 No dainty robe or cloak I sent, 
 
 Your ‘ generous’ dinner to requite ; 
 
 Tis gifts not friends that you invite. 
 Now you will say, ‘ That wretched slave 
 Forgot my note ; I'll beat the knave.’ 
 
 ALD OSD, Oi 
 ABI.) 
 
 IF Flaccus delights in a long-eared fox-hare, 
 
 If Canius dotes on his Libyan fair, 
 
 If Publius’ darling’s a dear little bitch, 
 
 And Cronius’ a monkey as black as a witch, 
 
 If a knavish ichneumon gives Marius pleasure, 
 
 And his talking magpie seems to Lausus a treasure, 
 If Glaucilla entwines round her neck chilly snakes, 
 Telesilla a tomb for her nightingale makes ; 
 
 When they find their joy in such monsters as these, 
 Whom would not the face of fair Labycas please ? 
 
 LXXXVIII 
 RORTICAGLORY 
 
 CAN this be true? In fair Narbonne ’tis said 
 
 My books are loved, all boys and sages con them, 
 Sweet matrons read them openly nor dread 
 
 To see a lord austere look sourly on them ! 
 
 I count it naught so I am praised of these, 
 Should farthest Nile to me her homage proffer, 
 Should Hybla and Hymettus feed my bees, 
 Or gold of Tagus fill my swollen coffer. 
 
 For this is fame indeed ; my heart was sad 
 
 And doubting feared lest flattering might deceive it ; 
 When Lausus damned one song in three as bad 
 
 I thought his judgment erred, but now believe it. 
 
 LXXXIX 
 TO APOLLINARIS WITH A ROSE GARLAND 
 
 Go happy rose, let thy soft petals bind 
 Those locks now bright, and if, when they are white 
 With Time’s chill snows, thou still thereon art twined, 
 May fate be kind, and Venus never slight 
 The flower she choose, the flower of her delight. 
 223 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 XC 
 
 THRE GDOLESLEV EE 
 
 My work’s uneven, you protest 
 
 And sometimes falls beneath my best ; 
 A compliment, say I: 
 
 Dull bards on level plains that grope 
 
 Shall never err—or soar—with Pope, 
 Although they shine with Pye. 
 
 wit. € Oil 
 LO JUVENAL WITH A CHRISTMAS PRESEa 
 
 THESE nuts at Saturn’s feast to thee I send, 
 Dear Juvenal, my friend. 
 
 The rest to girls Priapus gave away, 
 
 With whom he loves to play. 
 
 XO 
 
 VAIN WORDS 
 
 TEN times a day I’ve heard you say, ‘ If there is aught you 
 need, 
 
 Pray come to me and you will see I am a friend indeed.’ 
 
 I’m hailed for debt with angry threat, with usurers I plead, 
 
 But though you hear, you are not clear if there is aught I 
 need. 
 
 My landlord came his rent to claim; though there, you gave 
 no heed 
 
 To my distress, but cannot guess if there is aught I need. 
 
 Tis all in vain that I complain my cloak has run to seed. 
 
 ’Tis worn and chill ; you wonder still if there is aught I need. 
 
 Ye stars malign, your powers combine false chatter to impede, 
 
 And let this bore not ask me more if there is aught I need. 
 
 XCITII 
 TO QUINTUS OVIDIUS IN ABSENCE 
 
 NARNIA, aloof upon thy cloven hill 
 Where milk-white eddies ever whirl and play, 
 Why wilt thou keep my Quintus from me still ? 
 Tis thy delight to hold my friend away ; 
 224 
 
BOOK SEVEN 
 
 That spite doth mar the very fields I till ; 
 
 Save when he dwells thereby, no worth have they, 
 Spare me, nor let thy greed our friendship sever, 
 So may thy wondrous bridge endure for ever. 
 
 Mes CLV’ 
 UNE APIO. 
 
 SOME unguent rare was kept with care 
 In a small onyx dish. 
 
 Papilus came and smelt the same— 
 And now it’s putrid fish ! 
 
 XCV 
 VIN PE Irs S 
 
 In December’s frost and sleet 
 
 Still your chilly kisses greet 
 
 Every friend you chance to meet ! 
 What a trick ! 
 
 Such a vengeance to pursue 
 
 ~ Were a cruel thing to do, 
 
 Though they all had beaten you 
 With a stick. 
 
 If my wife or little maid 
 
 To embrace me had essayed, 
 
 I had started quite afraid 
 In such weather, 
 
 And if you suppose your kiss 
 
 Is a yet sublimer bliss, 
 
 That idea you may dismiss 
 Altogether. 
 
 From your snout (’tis like a dog’s) 
 
 Hangs the rime of frozen fogs, 
 
 And the beard it fairly clogs 
 Round your throat, 
 
 Where the shaggy mass coheres 
 
 Till it actually appears 
 
 Like the mass a shepherd shears 
 From a goat. 
 
 Though a greasy Gaul’s caress 
 
 Might disgust me, I confess, 
 
 Would it cause such wretchedness 
 As you bring ? 
 
 225 P 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Common decency display, 
 
 And in charity, I pray 
 
 Put your kisses safe away 
 Till the spring. 
 
 eeAC Via 
 ON VA) CHIT DS yCRAVae 
 
 SHED a tear and so pass by : 
 
 Here a little child doth lie, 
 Roman both by birth and name, 
 Who to death too early came. 
 Baby face and baby prattle 
 Could not save him in that battle. 
 Cruel Fate cut short his thread : 
 Little Urbicus lies dead. 
 
 May thy children happier be, 
 
 And live on surviving thee. 
 
 SAV 
 TO eA ISS BOOK 
 
 LITTLE book, when to Caesius Sabinus you come, 
 
 The bright shining star of his Umbrian home, 
 
 With friend Aulus Pudens, his townsman so true, 
 
 Even though he be busy he'll find time for you. 
 
 A thousand distractions may fill him with care, 
 
 But for my poor verses some hours he will spare ; 
 
 For he loves to peruse them, and gives them their station 
 Second only to Turnus in his estimation. 
 
 What glory and fame you are going to win, 
 
 How many a lover will call you within. 
 
 Every banquet and market will echo your praise, 
 Shops, houses, and porches, and little byways. 
 
 You are sent to one man, but as soon as you're known, 
 You'll be read, let me tell you, all over the town. 
 
 XCVIIT 
 LOHEGSPEND EE Ria 
 THERE’S nothing that you do not buy? Ah well, 
 
 Soon there'll be nothing that you do not sell. 
 226 
 
BOOK SEVEN 
 in ACIDS 
 TO CRISPINUS, DOMITIAN’S FAVOURITE 
 
 SO may you see the Thunderer always kind 
 
 And Rome as loving as your Egypt find. 
 
 If my poor books you in the Palace hear— 
 
 For they are wont to amuse the Emperor’s ear— 
 Venture to say—as fits a candid friend— 
 
 “ He too some honour to this age doth lend. 
 
 Not Marsus nor Catullus him outshine ’ 
 
 ‘Twill be enough. I trust our Lord divine. 
 
 227 
 
Oy as tel ka A 
 2 eae 
 
 oy Cy 
 
 
 
 i 
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 i 
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 . 
 
 
 

 
 - BOOK EIGHT 
 

 
BOOK EIGHT 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 VALERIUS MARTIALIS to the EMPEROR DOMI- 
 TIANUS CAESAR AUGUSTUS GERMANICUS 
 DACICUS GREETING 
 
 All these books of mine, Sir, to which you have given their 
 reputation, that 1s, their life, are your devoted servants, and I 
 have no doubt that for this reason they will be read. But this 
 volume, which 1s the eighth of my collected works, enjoys, in a 
 greater degree than did the others, opportunities to show its 
 loyalty, for which cause I have had less occasion for skilled 
 invention, seeing that the subject-matter compensated for lack 
 of wt, and yet I have tried to produce some variety of theme now 
 and again by the intermixture of a light jest or so, lest every 
 verse should force upon your angelic modesty the praises which 
 are its due, a course which might more easily be wearisome to 
 you than satisfying to myself. 
 
 Although epigrams written by the gravest persons and men of 
 the highest rank have been so composed as to assume the loose 
 language of mimes, yet I have not allowed these of mine to speak 
 with such accustomed licence, for as part of the book, and that 
 the larger and better part, is associated with the majesty of your 
 sacred name, the work must need remember that only those made 
 clean by solemn purification may come near the temples, and 
 to the end that my readers may know that I shall keep this precept, 
 I have resolved to make my declaration of it in quite a short 
 epigram at the beginning of this volume. 
 
 231 
 

 
 ed | ion i 
 a he it ks 
 
 as. 
 
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 f 
 4 
 ’ 
 ‘ 
 ‘ 
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 r Ete 
 
BOOK EIGHT 
 * J 
 PROPRIETY 
 
 LEARN to be modest, book, and pure of speech, 
 Before the Emperor’s laurelled halls you reach. 
 Go, naked Venus: here thou hast no place. 
 Our Caesar’s Pallas shall these pages grace. 
 
 Bel 
 LONG LIFE TO THE EMPEROR 
 
 JANuS, father of the year, 
 Double-faced and many-eyed, 
 
 When he saw our victor near 
 Gazed on still unsatisfied. 
 
 “To your god and lord ’—said he, 
 ‘Four times Nestor’s years I give.’— 
 
 One thing more we ask from thee : 
 Give him too thy life to live. 
 
 Iil 
 TRE NINTH MUSE 
 
 ‘ FIVE books had been enough ; a further pair 
 Are over many ; ere thy jesting pall, 
 Retire, my muse, for fame hath given her all, 
 And thou and I find welcome everywhere. 
 
 Thy tomb, Messalla, shall be overthrown, 
 To dust shall sink thy marbles, Licinus, 
 While nations yet to be shall cherish us 
 And bear our songs to motherlands unknown.’ 
 
 “Twas thus I spake and scarce had done, when she 
 Who by the perfume of her floating hair 
 And fragrant robe made sweet the laden air, 
 She, the ninth muse, Thalia, answered me. 
 
 “Ingrate, wouldst leave thy quips to play the sage ? 
 Ah, sluggish bard, what more dost thou desire, 
 Wilt take the buskin for the sock, aspire 
 
 To thunder savage war in epic rage ? 
 
 233 
 
 MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 So might some bawling pedant cite thee—one 
 Whom generous youth and ripening maiden hate— 
 On swelling themes let prigs and dullards prate 
 Whose toil the midnight lamp sees yet undone. 
 
 Season with native salt thy merry lay, 
 Show Rome her very self in word and deed, 
 And so the piping of thy slender reed 
 
 Shall sound when clarion blasts have died away.’ 
 
 mV 
 TO DOMITIAN WITH THE NEW YEAR 
 
 Lo, the whole universe performs her vow, 
 And at thy altars makes her offering now. 
 The joy of men, methinks, doth not suffice : 
 The gods themselves to thee make sacrifice. 
 
 V 
 SQUANDERED WEALTH 
 
 You spent so much on rings for many a fair one, 
 That now, a Knight no more, you may not wear one. 
 
 * VI 
 ANTIQUES 
 
 OLD Auctus is really a terrible bore 
 
 With his pedigree plate: I would rather he’d pour 
 The wine from cheap ware, for he tells such a tale 
 About every piece that the liquor goes stale— 
 
 ‘ Laomedon once owned this goblet, my boy : 
 
 To get it Apollo with music built Troy.— 
 
 With this cup fierce Rhoetus engaged in the fray, 
 Against the Lapiths : it’s still dinted to-day— 
 These beakers their value from Nestor derive, 
 
 He rubbed that dove smooth with his hand when alive— 
 In this bowl Achilles was wont for his friends 
 
 To mix a strong dose of his choicest old blends— 
 From this mug fair Dido did Bitias plight, 
 
 When she gave the repast to Aeneas that night ’— 
 
 So he goes on: each tankard of old Priam smacks ; 
 But you'll find that the wine is young Astyanax. 
 
 234 
 
BOOK EIGHT 
 
 VII 
 
 APGIHT OF SILENCE 
 
 Your skill, your eloquence, are vast indeed, 
 One word an hour suffices you—or less ; 
 
 Yet for extended time you loudly plead : 
 How great your golden gift of speechlessness ! 
 
 pe VLLT 
 DOMITIAN’S RETURN 
 
 THOUGH, Janus, you begin the flying year 
 
 And ages long renew when you appear ; 
 Though vows and incense first to you we pay, 
 And consuls at your feet their offerings lay ; 
 More joy is yours to know that in your time 
 Our God returns to Rome from northern clime. 
 
 IX 
 A FAIR OFFER 
 
 HyYLAS, one quarter of his eyesight gone, 
 Proposed to pay three quarters of your fee ; 
 But now one eye is ruined, whereupon 
 He says he’ll pay you half: if you agree, 
 Close with the offer quick ere worse befall, 
 Or soon, stone-blind, he will not pay at all. 
 
 Xx 
 
 A BARGAIN 
 
 His cloak is brand-new, the best Tyrian hue, 
 
 He has got a good bargain I know. _ 
 ‘Was it cheap?’ do you say? Well, of course, he won’t pay, 
 And what is ten thousand—/o owe ? 
 
 235 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 * XI 
 THE EMPEROR’S HOME-COMING 
 
 RHINE knows that thou at last hast come to Rome, 
 For our loud cheers reach even to his home. 
 Sarmatian tribes and savage Getae fear, 
 
 And Hister trembles at our shouts of cheer ; 
 
 While in the Circus, homage once begun, 
 
 No man perceived four races had been run. 
 
 No chief has Rome so loved, nor thee of yore ; 
 Now, though she wished, she cannot love thee more. 
 
 XII 
 TOREPRISEUS 
 
 I MARRY wealth and be for life 
 Naught save the husband of my wife ? 
 Nay ‘twere a galling tether. 
 The man must rule, the wife obey, 
 Priscus, there is no other way 
 To make them pull together. 
 
 XIIt 
 THE GUARANTEE 
 
 I BOUGHT him as a fool at vast expense ; 
 Pay back the price, he shows a gleam of sense. 
 
 dD LING 
 GLASS-HOUSES 
 
 Lest your trees should turn yellow and shrink from the cold 
 Or too biting an air on their branches get hold, 
 Glass casements face south, keeping chill winds away, 
 And let in the sunlight and undefiled day : 
 But my garret’s window has just one cracked pane 
 Where Boreas himself would not care to remain. 
 Do you wish your old friend to stay there till he freeze ? 
 I should be better off as the Se of your trees. 
 23 
 
BOOK EIGHT 
 BOX. 
 DOMITIAN’S TRIUMPH 
 
 PANNONIAN victories thy glory prove 
 
 And every altar greets returning Jove. 
 
 The Latin tribes their triple largess earn, 
 
 And people, knights, and senate incense burn. 
 Our loyal love thou takest, Sire, on trust, 
 
 And Rome conceals her triumphs ; for she must. 
 But thy peace-laurels all the brighter show : 
 
 A prince’s virtue is his folk to know. 
 
 XVI 
 ON CYPERUS 
 
 THOUGH long a baker, now you are 
 Seeking a fortune at the bar ; 
 
 Your gains are spent as soon as made, 
 You borrow too—the same old trade ; 
 Of old you made your bread : somehow 
 You still contrive to make it now. 
 
 And you will find that spendthrifts must 
 Like bakers seek to raise a crust. 
 
 PVE 
 THE MODEST ADVOCATE 
 
 WE agreed that my fee should be twenty. Why then, 
 When the pleadings are over, now only send ten ?>— 
 
 ‘ You scarce said a word, and you lost me my case ’—- 
 Nay, you owe all the more, if I blushed in your place. 
 
 ey LLL 
 TO CERRINIUS 
 
 IF once your verse to public knowledge came, 
 You soon would equal or surpass my fame. 
 
 But for your friend such love you've ever shown 
 That you prefer his glory to your own. 
 
 237 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 So Virgil who might e’en with Pindar vie 
 
 Ne’er against Flaccus sung in rivalry, 
 
 And though he could have passed him in the race, 
 In tragedy to Varius gave place. 
 
 Full many a friend will give you wealth and fields ; 
 But rare is he who thus in genius yields. 
 
 XIX 
 
 FALSE APPEARANCES 
 
 HE makes parade of poverty—a plot 
 To make us think him rich when he is not. 
 
 XX 
 
 THE WISE FOOL 
 
 You write a hundred lines a day ? 
 That means a crazy brain. 
 
 And yet you publish none, you say ; 
 That shows that you are sane. 
 
 pe PO, GI 
 
 TO THE DAYSTAR ON THE MORNING OF 
 DOMITIAN’S RETURN 
 
 BRIGHT star, bring back the day: why check delight ? 
 Our Caesar comes: bright star, bring back the light. 
 Dost thou then ride with the slow-moving bear, 
 Thou art so long the city’s call to hear ? 
 
 Castor to thee his flying steed would lend, 
 
 That so the dawn thou might more quickly send. 
 Why stay the sun? His steeds are fain to take 
 The bit, and Memnon’s mother is awake. 
 
 Nay, ‘tis the moon that will not yield to day 
 
 And with the stars would fain in heaven stay 
 
 To see our chief. Sire, e’en in darkness come: 
 
 Thy people need not light, if thou be home. 
 
 238 
 
BOOK EIGHT 
 
 XXIT 
 NATURAL HISTORY 
 
 You said it was wild boar you gave me, Sir ; 
 ’Twas but a farm-yard hog—you greatly err 
 Who think I can be cheated by a name ; 
 Only a mongrel mixes wild with tame. 
 
 XXIII 
 LAE ACOOK 
 
 BECAUSE I beat my cook who spoilt the dinner 
 You say ‘ Oh cruel wretch, oh greedy sinner, 
 Such penalties for greater faults are fit.’ 
 
 What greater crime, I ask, can cooks commit ? 
 
 XXIV 
 TO DOMITIAN 
 
 IF aught we ask, my modest book and I, 
 Grant it—we speak in no presumptuous tone, 
 Or suffer us to ask though thou deny ; 
 Incense and prayer offend not Jove on high, 
 Men fashion images in gold or stone, 
 Not gods ; ’tis worship gives them sanctity. 
 
 aA) 
 INDIFFERENCE 
 
 ONLY once when I was ill 
 You on me compassion took 
 
 To look in; so now I will 
 Often give you an ill look. 
 
 239 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 * XXVI 
 DOMITIAN’S CIRCUS GAMES 
 
 THE Indian hunter by the Eastern mead, 
 
 When pale he flies on his Hyrcanian steed, 
 
 Sees not as many tigers as have come 
 
 To-day, great Sire, to give delight to Rome. 
 Your games outshine those victory spoils of yore 
 That Bacchus once from Erythraea bore : 
 
 For when dark India to his car did bow, 
 
 A pair of tigers were for him enow. 
 
 XXVII 
 TO“ GAUROS 
 
 You rich old fool, the gifts that toady gave 
 Mean he would like to give one more—a grave. 
 
 * XXVIII 
 ON THE GIFT OF A TOGA FROM PARTHENIUS 
 
 SAY, gown, most welcome gift from learned friend, 
 To what famed flock dost thou new glory lend ? 
 Did the Apulian herbage for thee bloom 
 
 Where once Phalanthus had his Spartan home 
 And dark Galaesus with Calabrian tide 
 
 Brings riches to the teeming country-side ? 
 Dost come from many-mouthed Timarus’ bank 
 Whose waters Castor’s noble charger drank, 
 
 Or did my Spanish Baetis wash thee too 
 
 When thou wert wool on some Hesperian ewe ? 
 No Spartan dye thy whiteness might decrease, 
 Nor was Miletus worthy of thy fleece, 
 
 Than lilies and young privet brighter still 
 
 And ivory on Tibur’s glorious hill, 
 
 Nor swan nor pigeon can compare with thee 
 Nor pearls fished up from Erythraean sea. 
 
 Yet though his gift is fairer than the snow 
 Parthenius is yet more fair, I trow. 
 240 
 
BOOK EIGHT 
 
 No Babylonian robe could match with this 
 Though it were broidered by Semiramis, 
 
 Nor should I more the golden fleece admire 
 If Phryxus gave it me for my attire. 
 
 Oh how absurd my poor old cloak has grown, 
 Which I must wear with this palatial gown. 
 
 XXIX 
 SHORT AND LONG 
 
 WHo writes a distich hopes to please 
 By brevity, the soul of wit ; 
 
 But if he fill a tome with these, 
 I pray you where's the benefit ? 
 
 tae O,€ 
 MU GUIS LN. CHE CIRCUS 
 
 WHAT in our circus we count sport 
 
 Was glory once of noblest sort. 
 
 See in the blaze he thrusts his hand 
 And does the faltering fire command, 
 Spectator of the sacrifice, 
 
 Where his right arm may scarce suffice ; 
 For if the torture were not stayed 
 
 His left too in the fire were laid. 
 
 His crime I do not want to know, 
 
 To see that hand’s for me enow. 
 
 XXXI 
 PALER SORIGH I 
 
 IT throws a somewhat lurid light 
 Upon your private life 
 
 That you should crave the ‘ father’s right ’ 
 When you have got a wife. 
 
 You tease the sovereign as a boon 
 To call you ‘ Sire of three’ ; 
 Go home, my friend, ‘tis none too soon, 
 And cease your urgent. plea. 
 241 Q 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 But you are qualified—and more, 
 For in that distant home 
 
 You'll find your wife has borne you four 
 Whilst you were here in Rome. 
 
 gO. OG 
 ARETLOLILA'SSDOVE 
 
 THROUGH the still air to Aretulla’s breast 
 
 A dove came gliding down and sank to rest. 
 
 *Twas chance, you say: yet there the bird remained 
 And from its proffered liberty refrained. 
 
 It may be that a sister’s pious love 
 
 Avaiis the ruler of this world to move, 
 
 And from Sardinia’s shore, the exile’s home, 
 
 The dove with news of pardon now has come. 
 
 * XXXITI 
 
 ON RECEIVING A PRESENT OF “A VERY ae 
 METAL CUP 
 
 A PIECE of gold leaf from your magistrate’s crown 
 You send me, and say—‘ A gold tankard write down.’ 
 It coated the floor of the stage, I should say, 
 And by the red saffron was washed quite away. 
 Or perhaps on the leg of your couch it appeared, 
 Till a nail scraped it off, for twas only veneered. 
 It shakes when a gnat in the distance goes by, 
 And is moved by the wing of a small butterfly. 
 The heat of a lamp makes it dance about neatly, 
 And to dip it in wine would dissolve it completely. 
 So those small nuts are coated which mean clients bring 
 With a sixpence perhaps as New Year’s offering. 
 Bean tendrils are of thicker filaments spun, 
 A lily’s leaf coarser that fades in the sun. 
 More dense stands the chalk on old Fabia’s face, 
 More dense are the bubbles upon a mill-race, 
 More solid the fringe-nets that Roman girls wear, 
 And the German pomade which dyes yellow their hair. 
 A skin like to this has a chick still unhatched, 
 And with spots so transparent our dandies go patched. 
 Why send me a tankard? A ladle or spoon 
 Would be surely sufficient—I’m speaking too soon : 
 A nice little shell you my present might call, 
 Or what is still cheaper—send nothing at all. 
 242 
 
BOOK EIGHT 
 XXXIV 
 AN OLD MASTER 
 
 A GENUINE ‘ old master ’ this, 
 And it would be, as I infer, 
 
 An even more authentic Mys, 
 If you were not that master, Sir. 
 
 XXXV 
 JOIETER Mah VANO NOY MS Bel 
 
 IT is very strange, as 1t seems to me, 
 That you and your wife should not agree, 
 Since each is as vile as vile can be. 
 
 * XXXVI 
 ON DOMITIAN’S PALACE 
 
 No longer now need foreign Memphis prate 
 Of her high pyramids and regal state. 
 
 How small a part of thy Palatial Hall, 
 
 Doth Egypt make, earth’s fairest sight of all. 
 You'ld fancy there the seven hills to espy 
 And Pelion on Ossa’s not so high. 
 
 It pierces heaven, rising through the cloud, 
 And ‘mid the stars its bright peaks thunder loud, 
 And take their fill of Phoebus’ hidden light 
 Ere e’en Circeii has the sun in sight. 
 
 Yet though with heaven it may equal be, 
 
 It is not great enough, dear Sire, for thee. 
 
 XXXVIT 
 TRUE KINDNESS 
 
 You gave him back his bond, but why 
 
 Should you suppose you gave thereby 
 The money that was due ? 
 
 He owed the hundred pounds before ? 
 
 To please him lend him twenty more— 
 And keep the I O U. 
 
 243 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 * XMAVITIT 
 
 TO MELIOR ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF 
 BLAESUS'’ (DEAT EH 
 
 HE who with constant love doth gifts bestow 
 On one who lives and can his kindness know, 
 Perchance a legacy expects in turn ; 
 
 But he who honours thus a funeral urn 
 
 Shows the great gulf ‘twixt goodness and pretence, 
 For naught but solace hopes he from expense. 
 Such is your gift, by rumour known to all, 
 Who will not let the name of Blaesus fall 
 
 To sheer oblivion, but with birthday feast 
 After his death his glory have increased, 
 
 And from rich purse the clerkly throng supply 
 With funds to celebrate his memory. 
 
 While life remains, this shall your tribute be ; 
 And when you die this feast we still shall see. 
 
 FO XOCIIL 
 ON DOMITIAN’S BANQUETING HALL 
 
 TILL now there was no place that could contain 
 
 Thy banquets, Sire ; no place where thou couldst drain 
 The sacred nectar mixed by Ganymede : 
 
 To-day thou hast the palace thou dost need. 
 
 Long be it ere to Jove thou shalt ascend 
 
 As guest : if he’s in haste, let him descend. 
 
 wl 
 TO. A STATUE OF PRIALGS 
 
 No vine I give, no orchard fair, 
 Thou guardian god, to be thy care ; 
 Naught but thy native copse—and there 
 Are others like to thee. 
 Warn off the thief, keep watch and ward, 
 And save the trees to warm their lord, 
 For if they fail—thou couldst afford 
 At least one fire for me. 
 
 244 
 
BOOK EIGHT 
 
 XLI 
 
 TWO SORROWS 
 
 So he is ‘ sorry not to send 
 
 His New Year gift —I wonder now 
 In what sense he’s a sorry friend. 
 
 He makes me sorry anyhow. 
 
 AL) a 
 
 TO MATHO 
 
 SEEK you a richer patron? Many do 
 
 For these can give them larger doles, it’s true. 
 Yet mine will give a hundred baths to you: 
 The best of luxuries is cheapest too. 
 
 XLII 
 
 DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND 
 
 HE poisons wives, she husbands by the dozen, 
 With Pluto’s torch the marriage-god they cozen 
 Unite them, Venus, in the marriage tether, 
 
 So death shall carry off the two together. 
 
 a lal AY 
 
 ING SI AREG RA EES 
 
 Live, my Titullus, live. ’Tis still too late 
 
 In boyhood to begin ; and yet you wait 
 
 Though age has come, and waste the precious days 
 Cooling your heels attendant at levées. 
 
 Through the three forums where the mud spurts at you, 
 Past Mavors’ shrine and great Augustus’ statue, 
 
 We see you rush each morn from nine to noon 
 
 Wet with the slobberings of all the town. 
 
 245 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Rob, plunder, hoard : your wealth you must resign. 
 What though with yellow gold your coffers shine, 
 And bulky ledgers tell of thousands lent ! 
 
 Your heir will swear you have not left a cent. 
 
 And when upon your bed of stone you lie, © 
 While paper-fed your funeral pyre burns high, 
 Your mourning son will his sad loss assuage 
 By taking the first night your favourite page. 
 
 > IEA 
 ON THE RETURN OF PRISCUS FROM MSG si 
 
 My Priscus has returned from Aetna’s shore, 
 A milk-white pearl should mark the happy date ; 
 Strain clear the wine—thy precious essence pour, 
 Jar that hast known thy hundredth consulate. 
 When shall my joyous board so celebrate 
 A feast so dear, and warm my heart once more ? 
 Not till the Cyprian goddess shall restore 
 My Flaccus, shall I keep a feast so great. 
 
 TLL 
 DORE Sn 
 
 THovu whose young beauty is by virtue graced, 
 Dear Cestus, than Hippolytus more chaste, 
 Diana fain would have thee at her side 
 
 To teach thee how to breast the rushing tide ; 
 And Cybele would let her Atys go, 
 
 On thee yet whole her favours to bestow ; 
 Even to Jove thou couldst have given bliss, 
 
 If thou hadst known to do aught else but kiss. 
 Ah happy bride, who thee a man shall make, 
 And in her arms a groom so tender take. 
 
 XLVII 
 AWE RTE Lia GL Tike 
 
 Part of your beard is plucked away, part shorn, part clipped 
 instead ; 
 Who would believe me should I say you’ve but a single head ? 
 246 
 
BOOK EIGHT 
 Te VALI 
 
 A WARNING 
 
 CRISPINUS was changing his dress yesterday 
 
 And handed his cloak to a stranger, they say. 
 
 Please return it, good sir, and we'll count it a joke: 
 
 It is not Crispinus who asks, but the cloak. 
 
 With commonplace wearers that stuff will not go,. 
 
 Its Syrian purple requires a beau. 
 
 If you’re just out for plunder and don’t want it known, 
 The next time you try, lay your hands on a gown. 
 
 2 NIB 
 
 ON ASE ik 
 
 For beauty I’d reckon blind Asper’s girl high : 
 But it’s plain that with him it’s not lust of the eye. 
 
 wee 
 ON DOMITIAN’S TRIUMPHAL BANQUET 
 
 GREAT as the feast in heaven on that night, 
 Which did proclaim the Giant’s fallen might, 
 When humble godlets could with Jove recline, 
 And Fauns had leave to call on him for wine : 
 So great thy victory banquet, Sire, to-day, 
 When our rejoicings make e’en heaven gay. 
 Knights, senate, people, all are welcome there, 
 And with their chieftain taste ambrosial fare. 
 How has thy looked-for largess been increased : 
 A dole thou promised and hast given a feast. 
 
 AN | 
 
 ON AN EMBOSSED BOWL 
 
 WHENCE comes this bowl, by Mys or Myron made, 
 By Mentor or by Polycleitus graved ? 
 
 No leaden spots upon its surface stay, 
 
 Nor cloudy mass that fears the fire’s assay. 
 
 Its golden ore more bright than amber gleams, 
 
 Its frosted silver snow-white ivory seems. 
 
 247 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 And with like skill is the fair metal dight, 
 Round as the moon in full refulgent light. 
 
 A goat stands out arrayed in fleece of gold, 
 Such as fair Hellé might have loved of old ; 
 E’en a Cinyphian shearer would repine 
 
 To shear his coat, and Bacchus give his vine. 
 A golden love two-winged across him strides, 
 And blithely pipes as on his back he rides, 
 E’en as a dolphin once Arion bore, 
 
 A vocal burden, to the further shore. 
 
 No menial slave must fill this bowl with wine ; 
 Cestus, the hand that bears it must be thine. 
 Pour thou the nectar, gracious one ; for see 
 Both goat and god are fain to drink with me: 
 And let the giver’s name its letters lend 
 IsTANTI RuFI to the cups you blend. 
 
 If Telethusa comes at this, love’s hour, 
 
 I'll keep myself for her and drink but four : 
 If she is doubtful, then I'll toss off seven : 
 But if she comes not, I’ll have all eleven. 
 
 cAI 
 THE LONG TASK 
 
 I LENT my friend Rufus my barber, a boy 
 
 As skilful as Thalamus, once Nero’s toy, 
 
 Who did the imperial family shave ; 
 
 For my friend said he wished just one clipping to have. 
 So the lad at his bidding cut off every hair, 
 
 Rufus, mirror in hand, seeing that he took care ; 
 
 And when he had finished with infinite pain, 
 
 Was ordered to do it all over again. 
 
 Indeed, that one head he so many times sheared, 
 
 That when he came back he himself had a beard. 
 
 LL 
 
 LOCA LU ia 
 
 FAIREST of beauties, now or long ago ; 
 
 Vilest of wantons, long ago or now ; 
 
 How oft I’ve wished, when I held you embraced, 
 You were less beautiful or else more chaste. 
 
 248 
 
BOOK EIGHT 
 ely. 
 TO DOMITIAN 
 
 GREAT are thy gifts and greater yet shall be— 
 For thou alone, dear Sire, canst conquer thee. 
 But ’tis not they that our affection move ; 
 
 It is because of thee thy gifts we love. 
 
 PAN: 
 
 ON A LION SHOWN BY DOMITIAN IN 
 MeWd” (CAPM ERS 
 
 FIERCE as the roar we hear in Afric lands 
 When the wood raves with countless lion bands, 
 And the pale shepherd to his Punic farm 
 
 Calls back his bulls and sheep in dire alarm ; 
 
 So in our Roman ring there echoed loud 
 
 A monster, who but one yet seemed a crowd, 
 So great, all lions would his empire own, 
 
 And marble-decked Numidia yield the crown. 
 
 What glory to his neck his raised mane gave, 
 Falling majestic in a golden wave ! 
 
 How that broad breast became our hunter’s might ; 
 What joy was his to die, Lord, in thy sight ! 
 
 Who to the Afric woods such glory lent ? 
 
 Was he perchance from Cybele’s chariot sent ° 
 
 Or did thy brother or thy mighty sire 
 
 Send down the beast from great Alcides’ fire ° 
 
 PRIN L 
 
 PALRONSAND POEL 
 
 THE days of our grandfathers to our own great times must 
 
 yield 
 
 And with her mighty Emperor Rome holds a wider field. 
 Why is it then, you ask, that Virgils never now appear 
 
 To sing of war and war’s alarms in accents loud and clear ? 
 Well, give me a Maecenas and I'll soon find you a Maro ; 
 Perhaps on your own farm to-day some Virgil guides the 
 
 harrow. 
 
 249 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Young Tityrus in years gone by bewailed his plundered sheep, 
 
 And fields by poor Cremona’s side his father could not keep, 
 
 Until at last the Tuscan knight dispelled his tearful grief 
 
 And drove away grim poverty and gave him swift relief. 
 
 ‘ Here’s gold,’ he said; ‘ enjoy it and become our greatest 
 poet ; 
 
 And love my fair Alexis too, if you would like to do it.’ 
 
 That lovely youth, as it would chance, was standing then at 
 table, 
 
 Whose mouth ambrosial to tempt e’en Jupiter was able ; 
 
 And at the words he poured the dark Falernian rosy-lipped 
 
 And gave the goblet to the guest wherefrom himself had 
 sipped. 
 
 At once the enraptured bard forgot his sun-burnt Thestylis 
 
 And stalwart Galatea for a more romantic bliss, 
 
 And he who with ‘The Gnat’s Decease’ in humble strains 
 began, 
 
 Chanted the praise of Italy and sang the ‘ Arms and Man.’ 
 
 Why should I tell of Varius and Marsus and the rest, 
 
 How many a singer has a patron’s benefits confessed ? 
 
 You say—‘ Were I Maecenas, then would you have Virgil’s 
 art 2’ 
 
 No, no: but I’m a Marsus and I well could play his part. 
 
 eg AED ANI ; 
 DEAD MEN’S BONES 
 
 THREE teeth had Picens till one afternoon 
 Beside the tomb where he’ll be buried soon, 
 
 He coughed them up and laid them there to rest, 
 Last fragments of the set he once possessed. 
 
 He’s spared his heir one duty: that he owns : 
 For he himself has gathered his own bones. 
 
 ES AG 
 TO ARTEMIDORUS 
 
 My friend, although you take your name 
 From Artemis, you cannot claim 
 She gave you such a cloak ; 
 So rough and soldier-like is it ; 
 Henceforward I shall call you * Kit ’“— 
 Tis just—a Martial joke ! 
 250 
 
BOOK EIGHT 
 
 ARDS 
 
 THESMASTER THIEF 
 
 Do you see that old fellow with only one eye 
 
 And beneath his rogue’s brow a big black cavity ? 
 Beware: he’s a thief and a hard one to catch ; 
 Autolycus even was scarcely his match. 
 
 If he’s ever your guest, watch him closely ; for then 
 He revels in plunder and beats two-eyed men. 
 
 Your slaves see the cups disappear with dismay, 
 And ladles and napkins he tucks snug away, 
 
 While even your mantle he draws from your arm 
 And goes off himself with two cloaks nice and warm. 
 If he sees a poor slave-boy asleep by the side 
 
 Of his lamp, he will steal it : he’s no proper pride. 
 And if all else fail, lest his cunning he lose, 
 
 He will stealthily filch from his man his own shoes. 
 
 LX 
 
 ON CLAUDIA 
 
 “SHE’S just of the Colossus’ height,’ say you ? 
 Were she a cubit shorter, ’twould be true. 
 
 DX 
 
 ON CHARINUS 
 
 HE’s pale with rage, to bursting he is nigh enough, 
 
 With angry spite he cannot rave or cry enough, 
 
 He’d hang himself on any bough that’s high enough. 
 
 *Tis not my world-wide fame that makes him furious, 
 
 Nor my repute at home he holds injurious, 
 
 Nor yet my scrolls in form and hue luxurious ; 
 
 I have a little house—’tis no aspiring one, 
 
 A summer cot, a modest and retiring one ; 
 
 I buy the mules I ride, instead of hiring one ; 
 
 Hence all this angry spite, what can one say for it ? 
 
 What evil curses imprecate and pray for it ? 
 
 Would my estate were his, then he should pay for it. 
 251 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 DeCit 
 A BAD OMEN 
 
 You write on the back of your paper, ‘tis wrong, 
 A thing of ill omen to do; 
 _ For how can you wonder the genius of song 
 Is turning his back upon you ? 
 
 ps LL 
 
 LOR ACG 
 
 You are courting Alexis and Thestylus too, 
 
 And my Hyacinthus you're ready to woo. 
 
 You're a true poet-lover, of that there’s no doubt, 
 For a poet’s pet fancy you always smell out. 
 
 ge ED OI! 
 LOCCL YIU S 
 
 EIGHT times, Clytus, in each year 
 Birthday gifts to you we bear. 
 Every month save three or four 
 Heralds in your natal hour. 
 Though your cheeks may smoother be 
 Then a stone worn by the sea, 
 And your hair more black withal 
 Than a mulberry ripe to fall ; 
 Though you're softer far than down 
 Or new cheese, and though you own 
 Breasts as round and full as those 
 Virgin brides keep for their spouse ; 
 Yet to us you seem quite worn 
 With old age, more often born 
 Than King Priam was of yore 
 Or the chief of Pylos’ shore. 
 Prithee, cease, this thievish play, 
 In one year have one birthday. 
 Or if you don’t stop your fun 
 I shall call you ‘ No man’s son.’ 
 252 
 
BOOK BIGHT 
 
 vA Vi 
 DOMITIAN’S BIRTHPLACE 
 
 HERE, where Returning Fortune’s precincts shine, 
 Was erst the place where stood our lord divine, 
 Graced with the noble dust of northern fight 
 
 And shedding from his face refulgent light, 
 
 While Rome did greet her chief in white array 
 With voice and hand, her locks enwreathed with bay. 
 Great is its fame ; for here besides there stands 
 The arch triumphant over conquered lands, 
 
 With droves of elephants and chariots twain 
 Wherein our golden chief doth hold the rein. 
 
 This gate, true entry to the War-God’s town 
 Befits thy triumphs, Sire ; so all men own. 
 
 * LXVI 
 A NOBLE HOUSE 
 
 INCENSE and victims to Augustus bring, 
 
 Ye Muses, for your Silius’ offering. 
 
 Now Caesar, Rome’s most sure and only ward, 
 Hath for our poet once again regard, 
 
 And bids the lictor strike upon his door 
 
 And the twelve axes to his son restore, 
 
 So that but one thing waits to crown his joy, 
 The happy purple for his second boy. 
 
 Though Pompey threefold office once obtained, 
 And great Agrippa triple honours gained, 
 
 Yet Silius thinks he the same fame has won 
 
 If Janus holds the name of either son. 
 
 =-UXVII 
 DHEBEARL YI GUEST 
 
 It is not yet eleven, and yet you have come 
 
 Prepared to dine with me in my humble home. 
 
 The courts have just finished the first morning session, 
 And at Flora’s games now ’tis the hunter’s procession. 
 Well, well! Call the boys—they had gone up the town 
 To bathe—spread the couches: my dear friend, sit down. 
 ‘Warm water ’—you say: nay, the cold’s not here yet, 
 The stove has gone out, and the kitchen’s all wet. 
 
 Come another time sooner and don’t till noon wait : 
 
 For dinner you're early, for breakfast you're late. 
 
 253 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 FOU ALT 
 
 TOSENLELEUS 
 
 E’EN those who’ve seen Alcinéus’ domains 
 Prefer the country that your house contains. 
 Lest jealous winter should the clusters sear 
 And frost consume the gifts of Bacchus there, 
 Your vineyard blooms ’neath a transparent lid, 
 Its lucky grapes roofed over yet unhid. 
 
 So shine a maiden’s limbs through bombasine, 
 So are the pebbles in clear water seen. 
 
 What power will nature not allow to skill! 
 You make grim winter to be autumn still. 
 
 LXIX 
 
 LAUDATOR TEMPORIS AGie 
 
 ALL save the ancient poets you decry, 
 The living cannot gain your approbation ; 
 Excuse me—’tis not worth my while to die, 
 Even to earn your valued admiration. 
 
 LAX 
 
 TO NERVA 
 
 GENTLE is Nerva, and his tongue doth shrink 
 Too modestly to show her proper skill, 
 And he that might have drained Permessus’ rill 
 Constrained his thirst and sipped the very brink ; 
 
 And though his brow wear but a sprig of bay, 
 And though he will not woo the breeze of fame, 
 Yet him doth learned Nero’s verse acclaim 
 
 And greet him the Tibullus of to-day. 
 
 AEP Gl 
 
 TO POSTUMIANUS 
 
 Four pounds’ weight of silver ten winters ago 
 
 You sent as my present, I’ld have you to know. 
 Next year I hoped more, or at least just the same, 
 But to my disgust ‘twas but two pounds that came. 
 
 254 
 
BOOK EIGHT 
 
 In the third and fourth years your gift still smaller grew, 
 In the fifth ’twas one pound, and most common stuff too. 
 The sixth dropped to a platter, eight ounces I found ; 
 And then came a cup that weighed just half a pound. 
 The eighth brought a ladle, two ounces or less, 
 
 The ninth a thin tea-spoon, I blush to confess. 
 
 You can’t lower go in this tenth year, it’s plain : 
 
 So let’s, if you please, start at four pounds again. 
 
 TAU NOL 
 
 memnisebOOK, AN ADVANCE COPY FOR 
 ARCANUS 
 
 You are not yet with purple gay, 
 Nor is your roughness smoothed away, 
 But hasten, book, and catch my friend, 
 Who now his distant way must wend 
 To lovely Narbo and once more 
 Take up his task of legal lore. 
 You have indeed a happy lot, 
 
 - For now two joys at once you’ve got ; 
 Both him and that fair town you'll view : 
 Ah, how I wish that I were you! 
 
 cesT 
 TO INSTANTIUS RUFUS 
 
 INSTANTIUS, than whom no man more true 
 Lives on this earth, no friend more sure than you ; 
 If you would have my Muse true vigour prove, 
 Give me, O give me something I can love. 
 “Twas Cynthia made Propertius a poet ; 
 Lycoris showed young Gallus how to do it ; 
 From Nemesis Tibullus gained his name ; 
 Through Lesbia Catullus rose to fame. 
 
 And so with me: if some Corinna kind 
 
 Or beautiful Alexis I could find, 
 
 Even in Mantua my verse were known, 
 
 And Ovid’s folk would hail me as their own. 
 
 255 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 LXXIV 
 ON A DOCTOR TURNED GLADIATOR 
 
 A FIGHTER to-day and a doctor before, 
 Time makes little change in your course. 
 
 The force of your physic was fatal before, 
 So now is your physical force ! 
 
 LE OaY 
 
 DEAD GAULS 
 
 A GAUL late one night, who had just come to Rome, 
 Was making his way from the Colonnade home, 
 
 When he caught his big toe and his ankle-bone sprained, 
 And stretched at full length on the pavement remained. 
 What was to be done? He could not himself rise, 
 
 And the one servant with him was so small in size 
 
 That he scarcely a very light lantern could bear, 
 
 And helplessly gazed at his lord lying there. 
 
 Chance came to his aid ; for four slaves came along 
 With a pauper’s cheap corpse, one of that endless throng 
 Who move to the burial-ground every day, 
 
 And his man plucked up courage the bearers to stay— 
 
 ‘ Please stop: you may do what you like with the dead, 
 If you'll take on your bier my fat master instead.’ 
 
 The loads were soon changed and the Gaul, lifted high, 
 Made shift on the pauper’s scant litter to lie. 
 
 We might very well now sing the circus refrain, 
 
 “You are dead, master Gaul ’—over him once again. 
 
 LXXVI 
 LOPGATEICGS 
 
 “Pray tell me plainly what you think of it,’ 
 You always say, ‘ I love a frank report.’ 
 
 Thus when you read the products of your wit, 
 Thus when you plead a client’s case in court, 
 You pester me a verdict to extort, 
 
 And since a flat refusal seems uncouth 
 Here is the truth you ask for, plain and short— 
 
 That truth is that you do not want the truth. 
 
 256 
 
BOOK EIGHT 
 LXXVII 
 
 TO LIBER 
 
 IF friends could choose, so dearly loved art thou, 
 Liber, unfading roses should be thine, 
 Short-lived are ours, yet bind therewith thy brow, 
 And let thy locks with rarest unguents shine, 
 Crown high the cups with dark Falernian wine, 
 And follow love with all his dear delight ; 
 Though brief the span that grudging fates assign, 
 Joy thus may lengthen it in their despite. 
 
 SELL 
 
 Somepor GAMES GIVEN BY STELLA IN 
 DOMITIAN’S HONOUR 
 
 SUCH games as might the gods’ own victory grace, 
 Or Bacchus celebrate with smiling face, 
 
 Now for thy northern triumph Stella gives 
 
 And still unworthy of his love believes. 
 
 For him suffice not Hermus’ golden sands 
 
 Nor Tagus with the wealth of western lands. 
 
 Each day hath its own gift ; the bounteous cord 
 Rich plunder to the people doth afford. 
 
 Now sportive tokens fall in sudden cloud 
 
 And give the arena victims to the crowd : 
 
 Now birds, no longer mangled, come by lot 
 Unharmed to those who have the ticket got. 
 
 Why should I tell of prizes three times ten, 
 Such as the consuls’ games scarce give to men. 
 For there is one thing that surpasses all ; 
 Thou, Sire, art here to watch thy festival. 
 
 LXXIX 
 LH ESCONERAS J) 
 
 Your lady friends are ill to see, 
 
 All old or ugly as can be, 
 
 And in their company you go 
 
 To banquet, play, and portico ; 
 
 This hideous background you prepare 
 To seem, by contrast, young and fair. 
 
 257 R 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 * UOXXX 
 ON DOMITIAN’S REVIVAL OF PUGILISM 
 
 Tuovu dost restore the wondrous days gone by, 
 And suffer not the hoary past to die ; 
 
 For in the circus now by our old rite 
 
 Valour with simple strength of hand may fight. 
 So ’neath thy rule we tend each ancient shrine, 
 And worship Jove, yet hold the cot divine. 
 New rites established, old revived, we see: 
 What is, what was, alike we owe to thee. 
 
 nA BD, 6,0 | 
 ONVGELLIA SSE EAE 
 
 Not on the Mother’s sacred vows, 
 Not on Isis’ bovine spouse, 
 
 Not on any god at all, 
 
 Gellia in her oaths doth call. 
 
 It is by her pearls she swears, 
 
 Kisses every one she wears, 
 
 Fondles it and ‘calls it brother, 
 Sister : though she is a mother 
 With two babes, she loves her pearls 
 Better than she loves her girls ; 
 Swears she could not live a day 
 
 If her pearls were stol’n away. 
 Would you lead the dame a dance ? 
 Now, sir cracksman, here’s your chance. 
 
 LXXXII 
 TO DOMITIAN 
 
 WHILST others come thy grace to supplicate, 
 My little wreath before thy throne I lay ; 
 Lord, who canst tend the Muses and the state, 
 So may my garland please thee—and I pray 
 Uphold thy bards, they are thy glory, they 
 Thy chief delight and care: for thy renown, 
 Though decked with Saviour’s oak or victor’s bay, 
 May we not weave our poet’s ivy crown ? 
 
 258 
 
BOOK NINE 
 
BOOK NINE 
 PREFACE 
 
 Hail, dear Toranius, brother most beloved. The epigram 
 which is supernumerary to my book I wrote to Stertinius, a 
 man of the highest rank who has expressed a wish to place a 
 bust of me in his library. I thought it well to write to you about 
 him that you might know who this Avitus 1s—Farewell and 
 prepare to act the host. 
 
 Fame 1s your right, O noble soul, 
 Though you reject your due 
 
 Till Death, defying your control, 
 Shall force the crown on you. 
 
 Meantime may this quatrain I send 
 Beneath my bust proclaim 
 
 ’Twas you that chose to set your friend 
 With bards of noblest name. 
 
 Reader, I gained what I desired, 
 The palm for lighter verse, 
 
 And tf you hold me not inspired 
 You love me none the worse. 
 
 Let others claim the epic rage, 
 The seers of lofty dreams, 
 
 While men unwearted con my page 
 That trills on little themes. 
 
 201 
 

 
BOOK NINE 
 ea 
 ON DOMITIAN’S TEMPLE 
 
 WHILE Janus gives his name to winter’s tide ; 
 
 While from Domitian autumn gains new pride, 
 
 As summer from Augustus ; while the day 
 
 Of the Germanic Kalends marks our sway 
 
 O’er conquered Rhine ; while Jove’s rock-temple stands, 
 And matrons come with prayer and suppliant hands 
 Worship to pay to Julia divine ; 
 
 So long shall last the mighty Flavian shrine, 
 
 With sun and stars coeval and with Rome, 
 
 Work of unconquered hand, the heaven its home. 
 
 II 
 LOS EUR US 
 
 ON us you’ve not a farthing to expend, 
 
 But oh, how generous to your lady friend! 
 
 On dainty cakes and pastries she is fed, 
 
 Your guest has only black and musty bread ; 
 For her iced wine is poured of vintage rare, 
 For him a muddy acid ordinaire ; 
 
 You sell a farm her favours to command 
 
 For one short hour ; your friend tills alien land. 
 She flaunts in priceless Orient pearls—and yet 
 Your client haled away is sold for debt ; 
 Eight Syrian slaves the minx’s litter bear, 
 Your needy friend a pauper’s bier will share : 
 Rhea, you choose the scum of all the nation, 
 Is he not worthy of—initiation ? 
 
 aLet 
 TO DOMITIAN 
 
 WERE you, great Sire, from heaven to reclaim 
 All you have given, a creditor in name, 
 Though great Olympus were put up for sale 
 And the gods auctioned, naught would it avail— 
 ~ Atlas would bankrupt go, nor Tonans get 
 A shilling in the pound to pay his debt. 
 263 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 How could he settle for the Capitol 
 
 Or for his shrine with oak-leaf garlands full ? 
 Pallas I leave ; she shares with you, we know: 
 But what must Juno for two temples owe ? 
 And then the twins, Alcides and Apollo, 
 
 The Flavian chapel—and there’s more to follow. 
 You must be patient, Sire, and wait your day : 
 Jove’s coffers lack the wherewithal to pay. 
 
 mL. 
 
 THE, PRICE OF SECKEGY 
 
 A COUPLE of pound hasn’t much of a sound, but for everyday 
 use it’s enough ; 
 
 If you want something more you will have to pay four and 
 for that you get really hot stuff. 
 
 Some people give ten, but the inference then is of black- 
 mailers they are afraid, 
 
 And betwixt you and me, as I think you'll agree, what they 
 pay for is—‘ Not a word said.’ 
 
 ut \'¢ 
 
 TWO OF “AV TRADE 
 
 CLEVER Jenny wants to wed, 
 Wants to marry Joe. 
 
 Master Joseph shakes his head : 
 Joe is clever too. 
 
 * VI 
 
 ON DOMITIANS REVIVAL OFS EE 
 DEXMSCAN LIN TA 
 
 THEE, O world-father who with conquering sword 
 The Rhine hast humbled, O most modest lord, 
 The cities thank for people : in thy time 
 
 To bring forth children is at last no crime. 
 
 No boy, polluted by a pander’s art, 
 
 Mourns for his manhood now, no mother’s heart 
 Is wrung by grief when to her child she shows 
 The pittance which the haughty pimp allows. 
 The shame our marriage-beds had lost, by thee 
 Even in brothels we begin to see. 
 
 264 
 
BOOK NINE 
 FaVvil 
 
 TO AFER 
 
 Now youw’re home from your travels in lands far away, 
 
 For a week I’ve been wanting to bid you good-day. 
 
 ‘ He’s engaged,’ ‘ he’s asleep’ ; that has been my reply : 
 
 That’s enough; if you won’t have—‘ good-day,’ here’s— 
 ‘ good-bye.’ 
 
 eA 
 
 ON DOMITIAN’S LAW PROTECTING CHILDREN 
 
 As though, O shame, it did not him suffice 
 
 To prostitute our youths to venal vice, 
 
 The pander seized our cradles for his prey 
 
 And forced young babes to earn him shameful pay, 
 Till Rome’s great father wrathful at the sight 
 
 Saved the poor children from their monstrous plight ; 
 E’en as to youths he lately gave his aid 
 
 Lest they by cruel lust be sterile made. 
 
 Boys, youths, and elders loved thee, Sire, before : 
 Now infants too thy majesty adore. 
 
 PADS 
 Ome hL ay NIGUS 
 
 Not a penny from Fabius, though every year, 
 Fifty pounds’ worth of presents you gave! 
 
 Never mind: we are all in the same boat, I fear, 
 And in future that money you'll save. 
 
 LADD 
 TO CANTHARUS 
 
 YOU'RE very glad with friends to dine, 
 
 Yet there you bawl, backbite, and blether. 
 Such ways, good sir, you’d best resign : 
 
 Free speech and greed go ill together. 
 
 205 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 ana 
 
 TO DOMITIAN’S CUPBEARER EARINOS 
 (‘ SPRINGBOY ’) 
 
 A NAME that’s born with the primrose, 
 Wherefrom the year its best part knows, 
 Which draws from Attic flowers their scent 
 And phoenix perfumes subtly blent, 
 Sweeter than nectar’s juice divine, 
 
 Which, Atys, thou wouldst wish were thine, 
 And he who holds for Jove his cup ; 
 
 A name which in our court brings up 
 Venus and Cupid to the call, 
 
 Soft, delicate, and famed withal ; 
 
 This in deft verse I fain would tell, 
 
 But, stubborn syllable, you rebel. 
 
 ‘ Eiarinos ’ the poets write ; 
 
 But they are Greeks who may indite 
 Whate’er they please and in their song 
 Have Ares short and Ares long. 
 
 We cannot such glib license use, 
 
 For Romans court a sterner Muse. 
 
 ee 
 TO THE SAME 
 
 IF I got my name from autumn, I Oporinos should be: 
 
 Winter stars would give another, then Chimerinos you'ld see : 
 
 Therinos the months of summer would for me as title bring : 
 
 Tell me now what you should call me when I take my name 
 from Spring ? 
 
 ie fe 
 TO THE SAME 
 
 Tuou hast a name which tells of vernal hours 
 When Attic bees lay waste the short-lived flowers ; 
 Which Venus with her pen would joy to write 
 Or broider with soft silk and needle bright ; 
 Which should be made with pearls from India’s land 
 Or amber balls warmed by a virgin’s hand ; 
 Which cranes with flying wing to heaven bear, 
 And finds its rightful place with Caesar here. 
 266 
 
BOOK NINE 
 a TALY, 
 ONPARPAKASITE 
 
 Do you think that this man, whom your generous board 
 Has got you for friend, can true friendship afford ? 
 
 It’s your oysters and mullet he loves, sir, not you : 
 
 If my dinners were good, he would be my friend too. 
 
 KV 
 A MUCH-MARRIED LADY 
 
 CHLOE seven husbands had, 
 
 In the churchyard laid ’em, 
 On the stone the record sad, 
 
 All their names engraved ’em ; 
 Then added—‘ Chloé’s work you see.’ 
 O what delicious naiveté ! 
 
 if DOTA 
 EARINOS’ VOW 
 
 His mirror, beauty’s wisdom, and his hair 
 To Aesculapius an offering 
 The boy our lord most loves to-day doth bear, 
 Who by his name recalls the hours of spring. 
 Happy the land that is with such gifts fee’d : 
 For him we would not take e’en Ganymede. 
 
 7 RVI 
 ON THE SAME 
 
 LATONA’S grandson, by whose potions mild 
 
 The Fates with too brief distaff are beguiled, 
 These locks, his lord’s delight, thy boy sends now 
 To thee from Rome to pay his solemn vow, 
 
 And this bright glass has added to the hair 
 Whose verdict oft assured him he was fair. 
 
 Gone are his tresses bright ; yet none the less 
 Preserve for him his youthful comeliness. 
 
 267 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 XVIII 
 A PETITION TO THE EMPERGE 
 
 WHILE Caesar reigns, long may my country cot 
 And tiny house in Rome be mine ; but lo, 
 Yon straining pole doth bring my garden-plot 
 Its scanty waters from the vale below: 
 But here, though nigh at hand the fountains flow 
 No quickening drop doth slake my parching home ; 
 One rill divine a bard would love to owe 
 To him, the Muses’ lord, the God of Rome. 
 
 XIX 
 TORSADLLLUS 
 
 You praise the gourmet’s baths ; do you design 
 To share his water, or his food and wine ? 
 
 ie, OS 
 
 ON THE FLAVIAN TEMPLE, BUILT UPC 
 SITE OF DOMITIANS BIRTHPLAGE 
 
 THIS open space, with marble and with gold 
 Emblazoned, knew our infant lord of old. 
 
 O happy earth, that heard his wailing cry, 
 
 And as he crept could see and help supply. 
 
 Here stood the house which to our world has given 
 What Rhodes and pious Crete bestowed on heaven. 
 Then eunuch priests the baby god concealed 
 
 With all their strength, loud rattling lance on shield ; 
 For thee, great Caesar, Jove himself had care, 
 
 And bolt and aegis stood for shield and spear. 
 
 XXI 
 LIVE UPTO" YOOU RN A Mas 
 
 ARTEMIDORUS bought a pretty slave 
 
 And sold his lands to pay—the price was great— 
 But Calliodorus with the sum he gave 
 
 Became the master of the whole estate. 
 
 268 
 
BOOK NINE 
 
 Who bears the name of Artemis should rate 
 Love at a price far meaner ; and its charm, 
 
 To him that’s called from beauty, prove a bait 
 Much more alluring than a dirty farm. 
 
 XXII 
 POREASELOR 
 
 FRIEND, if for larger wealth I seem to pine, 
 It is not as the vulgar herd desire it ; 
 They long that Rheims may toil to give them wine, 
 And slave-drive half a county to acquire it ; 
 They hunt for ormolu and Adams fine 
 Or gilded ‘ Empire ’ stuff,—I don’t admire it— 
 And quaff from crystals of the rarest sort 
 Dark draughts of richest Burgundy or Port. 
 
 The liveried menial lies beneath my ban, 
 I seek no crowd of fools to bow before me, 
 Let others keep the pampered serving-man, 
 To see a six-foot flunkey standing o’er me, 
 To drive a four-in-hand, or spick-and-span 
 To ride the Row—these things would simply bore me. 
 What do I want ? (may heaven upon me frown 
 If this is false.)—To beautify the town. 
 
 FO. G0 I 
 
 MomeakUo, ON AWREATHED BUST 
 OF DOMITIAN 
 
 Martial: Tell me where now the golden garland lies 
 That Alban Pallas gave thee for thy prize. 
 Carus: See’st thou our master’s face in marble wrought ? 
 To grace his locks my crown took wings unsought. 
 Martial: The pious oak may grudge the olive now 
 Its glory ; for it wreathes our victor’s brow. 
 
 * SX ALV 
 ON CAE SAME 
 
 WHO carved our master’s bust from Latin stone 
 And so the Phidian ivory outshone ? 
 
 ’Tis Jove’s own face ; nay ‘tis the world we see : 
 So the god thunders when from clouds he’s free. 
 Athena gave thee more than that one crown ; 
 She too this enemies tues once did own. 
 
 209 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 gh OSM 
 
 DUALLY. 
 
 IF we gaze at your Hyllus as he passes by,, 
 
 You look at your guests with a most troubled eye. 
 
 What crime is it in a fair boy to delight ° 
 
 Don’t the sun and the gods and the stars please our sight ? 
 Shall I turn my eyes from him and hide my face up; 
 
 As though ’twere a Gorgon presenting my cup. 
 
 Even savage Alcides let Hylas be seen, 
 
 And Ganymede sports with young Hermes, I ween. 
 
 To your table you’d better blind Oedipus call, 
 
 If you don’t want your minions to be viewed at all. 
 
 XXVI 
 TO NERVA 
 
 SEND verse to Nerva? Nay, a bard so bold 
 
 Might give cheap scent to Cosmus, hope to please 
 Paestum with privet flowers or marigold, 
 
 Send bitter honey to Hymettus’ bees. 
 
 Yet is there grace in humbler lines—for these 
 Are olives taken after daintier cheer ; 
 Yet wonder not should my Thalia fear 
 
 (Knowing her meaner power) your face to see ; 
 Did not a Nero dread your taste austere, 
 
 Reading his merry verse ? and so doth she. 
 
 XXVIT 
 
 Cum depilatos, Chreste, coleos portes 
 Et uulturino mentulam parem collo 
 Et prostitutis leuius caput culis, 
 Nec uiuat ullus in tuo pilus crure, 
 Purgentque saeuae cana labra uolsellae, 
 Curios Camillos Quintios Numas Ancos 
 Et quidquid usquam legimus pilosorum 
 Loqueris sonasque grandibus minax uerbis, 
 Et cum theatris saeculoque rixaris. 
 Occurrit aliquis inter ista si draucus 
 Iam paedagego liberatus et cuius 
 Refibulauit turgidum faber penem, 
 Nutu uocatum ducis, et pudet fari 
 Catoniana, Chreste, quod facis lingua. 
 270 
 
BOOK NINE 
 2 ANVILT 
 
 PoeearpUottOr Sar ACTOR LATINUS 
 
 I am Latinus, darling of the stage, 
 
 The applause, the pride, the wonder of my age, 
 Who could have wooed stern Cato to the play, 
 And made Fabricius laugh his cares away. 
 Naught from the theatre did my morals take, 
 And only in a farce was I a rake. 
 
 Virtue you need our master’s grace to win ; 
 
 He is a god who sees the heart within. 
 
 ‘ A parasite of Phoebus ’—as you will: 
 
 But let Rome know I served her great Jove still. 
 
 SADE 
 
 ON AN OLD WOMAN’S GRAVE 
 
 DEATH snatched you away before your day and took you to 
 Lethe’s shore, 
 
 You could beat old Parr, but Methuselah might give you a 
 month or more. 
 
 What a voice to be dumb—it could overcome the market’s 
 or schoolroom’s clatter, 
 
 A revivalist hymn, or the river’s brim with a million cranes 
 a-chatter. 
 
 There was none like you foul tricks to do, as a witch you have 
 left no double : 
 
 Be your covering slight and of sand so light that the dogs 
 may have little trouble. 
 
 XXX 
 Ove Diese ALOR ROUSTLICUS 
 
 Fout Asian coast, his life hast thou betrayed, 
 On thee by guilty waves his corpse was tossed. 
 Close in her breast his loving spouse conveyed 
 The sacred urn, too soon the seas were crossed, 
 Too soon those ashes in the earth she laid, 
 And seemed twice widowed of a love twice lost. 
 271 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 * XXXI 
 
 ON A PICTURE OF A VOTIVE OFFERING 
 
 VELIUS, what time he hastened to the wars, 
 
 For our great Caesar vowed a goose to Mars. 
 
 The moon had scarce eight times in circle met 
 
 When lo, the god claimed payment of the debt. 
 
 The bird rejoicing to the altar came 
 
 And fell a humble victim in the flame. 
 
 See those eight coins that hang from out its beak : 
 *Twould say—‘ For this I hid them ’—could it speak. 
 When victims thus with silver truth reveal, 
 
 They show us, Sire, there is no need for steel. © 
 
 OL 
 SIM PLICII 
 
 GIVE me the girl who’s always willing, 
 Who can suffice for lovers three, 
 Whose price complete is just one shilling, 
 Who gives my man what shé gives me. 
 Let Frenchmen in their arms enfold 
 Fine ladies with their silks and all, 
 They care for nothing else but gold, 
 Give me the girl who wears a shawl. 
 
 oe O.0 0 8 8 
 THE WONDER 
 In the baths what is now the most pleasing diversion 
 Is to go and see Maro displaying his person. 
 XXXIV 
 
 ON DOMITIAN’S TEMPLE 
 
 THE King of Gods beheld our Flavian shrine 
 And mocked his own on Ida for a cheat ; 
 Deep were the cups he quaffed of nectar sweet, 
 Ere for Rome’s patron, Mars, he poured the wine. 
 272 
 
BOOK NINE 
 
 Phoebus and Dian there he saw recline 
 By Hercules and duteous Mercury, 
 
 And said, ‘ Ye built my fane of old in Crete ; 
 But Caesar is more dutiful than ye.’ 
 
 XXXV 
 THE NEWSMONGER 
 
 THESE are the tricks that you devise to pay for hospitality, 
 
 You forge a hundred silly lies and state them as reality, 
 
 You know King Ferdinand’s design discussed in far Bulgaria, 
 
 And what reserves are on the Rhine, their numbers in Bavaria, 
 
 Haig’s last dispatches you have conned while still undried 
 the ink of them, 
 
 You see the victor laurels donned before the soldiers think of 
 them. 
 
 You tell the Tigris’ rise in feet, and what the flood has meant 
 to us, 
 
 How many pounds of maize or meat America has sent to us. 
 
 The next Nobel awards you know, and all the facts that 
 guided them, 
 
 You give the winners’ names although the Trust has not 
 decided them. 
 
 Give up this foolish fashion pray, you get but small regard 
 from it, 
 
 And if you grace my board to-day, remember ‘ News’ is 
 barred from it. 
 
 v9, OAH! 
 
 TO EARINOS 
 
 THE Phrygian youth, delight of the other Jove, 
 Had seen our Emperor’s darling from above 
 
 With hair new-shorn, and cried, ‘ Great ruler, now 
 Grant me what Caesar doth his boy allow. 
 
 Down’s on my cheeks concealed beneath these locks, 
 And Juno calls me man and jeers and mocks.’ 
 
 To him—‘ My sweetest boy,’ the Sire replied, 
 “Your wish by facts and not by me is denied. 
 
 Our Caesar has a thousand boys like thee ; 
 
 His palace scarce can hold their company. 
 
 But if shorn hair should give thee a man’s face, 
 
 I should have no one left my board to grace.’ 
 
 273 Ss 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 XXXVIT 
 TORGADIEA 
 
 WHILST in your room you deck your beauty bright, 
 
 Next door the coiffeur braids your lovely hair, 
 Your frocks and teeth are laid away at night, 
 
 So portioned out in boxes here and there 
 
 You lie, and your complexion sleeps elsewhere ; 
 Beneath a brow, remodelled day by day, 
 Your eye still ogles men. JBe reverent, pray, 
 
 Nor hawk about each prehistoric charm : 
 Though love is dull and dim of sight they say, 
 
 He sees you well enough to take alarm. 
 
 FOX DVL 
 
 ON A BOY JUGGLING WITH A Soieee 
 
 You play, Agathinus, a most risky game, 
 
 But you can’t get your buckler to fall all the same ; 
 When you shun it, it follows, returning through air, 
 And lights on your finger-tips, foot, back, or hair. 
 The stage may be wet with the red saffron rain, 
 
 And the boisterous wind make all awnings seem vain, 
 But unheeded it runs o’er the boy’s careless limbs 
 Not baffled by showers or the breeze’s mad whims. 
 Though you try to go wrong you can’t do it at all ; 
 It will need all your skill if the shield is to fall. 
 
 XXXIX 
 
 ON CAESONIA’S BIRTHDAY 
 
 RuEA, thou shouldst have chosen for thy son 
 This day that saw our lord of Thunder’s birth 
 And sweet Caesonia’s. In all the earth 
 
 Is none that owes her mother more and none 
 More glad than he, her Sire, to bless the morn 
 Whereon his Caesar and his child were born. 
 
 274 
 
BOOK NINE 
 ph. B 
 NUPTIAL ‘FAVOURS 
 
 WHEN Diodorus sailed from Egypt’s shore 
 
 His prize to take at Rome, Philaenis swore, 
 
 If he returned, she’ld give him that sweet kiss 
 Which even Sabine matrons know is bliss. 
 
 His ship was wrecked, but through the raging main 
 He swam to land her promise to obtain. 
 
 Yet even so he seems a laggard spouse : 
 
 I’ld ne’er embark if my girl made such vows. 
 
 XLI 
 
 PONTICE, quod numquam futuis, sed paelice laeua 
 Uteris et Veneri seruit amica manus, 
 Hoc nihil esse putas ? Scelus est, mihi crede, sed ingens, 
 Quantum uix animo concipis ipse tuo. 
 Nempe semel futuit, generaret Horatius ut tres ; 
 Mars semel, ut geminos Ilia casta daret. 
 Omnia perdiderat si masturbatus uterque 
 Mandasset manibus gaudia foeda suis. 
 Ipsam crede tibi naturam dicere rerum 
 ‘Istud quod digitis, Pontice, perdis, homo est.’ 
 
 XLII 
 
 Pome leLiA, THAT HE: MAY GAIN THE 
 CONSULSHTP 
 
 For ever may Myrina’s wealth be thine, 
 Phoebus, and swan-song give thee joy divine, 
 The Muses do thy will in loyal truth, 
 
 Thy Pythian priestess ever say thy sooth, 
 And may the Palace—glory far above 
 
 These lesser joys—still worship thee and love, 
 If thou wilt ask and Caesar grant thy plea, 
 The fasces for my Stella ; then to thee 
 
 Will I, thy debtor, build an altar fair 
 
 With rustic greenery, and offer there 
 
 A yearling steer bedecked with gilded horn ; 
 Delay no more, he is already born. 
 
 275 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 ee ed BAR GI 
 ON A STATUETTE OF HERGCIa 
 
 THis mighty god in shape of bronze so small, 
 Whose lion’s skin upon the stones doth fall, 
 While to the stars he looks with upturned face 
 Holding in either hand a cup and mace, 
 
 No Roman work or fresh in fame is he, 
 Lysippus’ gift and handicraft you see. 
 
 This god the board of Pella’s monarch showed 
 Ere death came quickly in the world subdued ; 
 By him young Hannibal at the altars swore ; 
 He bade fierce Sulla to lay down his power. 
 Now from the threats of courts he holds aloof 
 And gladly dwells beneath a private roof, 
 
 And as of old he was Molorchus’ guest, 
 
 So now the god with Vindex loves to rest. 
 
 XLIV 
 ON THE SAME 
 
 You know the Hercules that Vindex bought, 
 So fair is he that once I asked the god 
 Whose chisel, thus inspired, the statue wrought ; 
 He laughed—that is his wont—and with a nod 
 Towards the base ; ‘ Knowst thou not Greek ? ’ says he, 
 “And thou a bard? His name yon letters tell! ’ 
 They said ‘ Lysippus ’ or my thought should be 
 That none but Pheidias could have wrought so well. 
 
 ee GLA 
 TO MARCELLINUS IN THE CAUCASUS 
 
 A SOLDIER you have borne the Getic sky, 
 
 And watched the sluggish Wain with careful eye, 
 But now you travel further from us still 
 
 Even to Prometheus and his storied hill. 
 
 How will you cry when those grim rocks you see, 
 Whereon he suffered—' Yet more hard was he.’ 
 And then will add—‘ Who could such pains endure 
 Was fit to mould the race of man, be sure.’ 
 
 276 
 
 
 
 ’ 
 
BOOK NINE 
 Ky! 
 THE MISER’S EXCUSE 
 
 Wat is the use of Gellius saying 
 
 That he is building when he’s laying 
 Door-mats or fitting keys and latches 
 Or changing window-panes and catches ? 
 Can any reason lie behind it ? 
 
 Ask for a loan and you will find it ; 
 
 It is the best of all excuses ; 
 
 To say ‘ I’m building ’ has its uses. 
 
 XLVII 
 
 DEmocriTos, Zenonas inexplicitosque Platonas 
 Quidquid et hirsutis squalet imaginibus, 
 
 Sic quasi Pythagorae loqueris successor et heres ; 
 Praependet sane nec tibi barba minor : 
 
 Sed, quod et hircosis serum est et turpe pilosis, 
 In molli rigidam clune libenter habes. 
 
 Tu, qui sectarum causas et pondera nosti, 
 Dic mihi, percidi, Pannyche, dogma quod est ? 
 
 XLVIII 
 
 LONGARRICUS 
 
 A QUARTER of your goods you vowed to leave me, 
 And swore by all the gods you’d not deceive me ; 
 I thought you speaking truly when you said it,— 
 For who would doubt what he desires to credit >— 
 So sent you gifts to foster your intentions ; 
 Amongst them was a boar of huge dimensions 
 Like Meleager’s. Half the town you féted 
 
 Till even greediest epicures were sated ; 
 Yet—who’d believe it ?—I was not invited, 
 
 No scraps of ribs or tail my gift requited ; 
 
 If not one single ounce of pig I merit, 
 
 What of the pounds I hoped I might inherit ? 
 
 277 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 DD, 
 
 ON HIS PARTHENIAN GOWN 
 
 TuIs is the gown which my fond readers know, 
 For oft I’ve sung its praises. Long ago 
 
 It was a poet’s gift, Parthenian hight, 
 
 And in it clothed I walked a splendid knight. 
 Then it was new and worthy of its giver, 
 
 Its glossy wool as shining as a river. 
 
 To-day the meanest pauper would decline, 
 
 To wear it, tis indeed so ‘ snow-flake fine.’ 
 What will not time and length of days destroy °? 
 Your once grand gown is now like you, my boy. 
 
 ae 
 MINIATURES 
 
 My puny epigrams befit, 
 So you declare, my puny wit ; 
 I am too stupid I admit 
 
 To wade like you in blood 
 
 Through twelve long books—my genius sets 
 T’ wards finished marble statuettes, 
 The while your lofty soul begets 
 
 A giant built of mud. 
 
 AB 
 ON THE DEATH OF LUCANGS 
 
 THAT which in his despite you sought from heaven, 
 To die before your brother, has been given. 
 
 But Tullus grudges you the Stygian shade 
 
 And in his elder’s grave would fain be laid. 
 
 You dwell at peace in the Elysian zone, 
 
 Now first rejoicing that you are alone ; 
 
 And if for Pollux Castor comes again, 
 
 You'll say—‘ Seek not high heaven to regain.’ 
 
 278 
 
BOOK NINE 
 ai 
 
 moeeoulNTUS OVIDIUS ON HIS BIRTHDAY 
 
 I Des you, Quintus, and revere your birthday, holding it as 
 ear, 
 Aye dearer than mine own ; 
 And if both March and April are marked in love’s loyal 
 calendar 
 With pearls and precious stone, 
 Your April I must rank above my March because one gave 
 me love, 
 The other life alone. 
 
 LIII 
 TO THE SAME 
 
 QUINTUS, a little birthday gift I planned, 
 
 But you refuse and nothing will persuade you ; 
 Well, reconcile my wish and your command 
 
 By giving me the gift I should have made you. 
 
 MLL: 
 WITH A PRESENT OF FOWLS 
 
 IF I lived in Picenum and fattened field-fares, 
 
 Or a Sabine laid. out in the woods my meshed snares : 
 If a fowler’s long rod gained for me its light prey, 
 
 Or if birds on limed twigs were for me forced to stay, 
 Then, Carus, my kinship would give you your due ; 
 Neither brother nor grandsire should come before you. 
 As it is, o’er my fields only starlings take wing, 
 
 And finches and chattering sparrows in spring, 
 
 To the magpie’s loud call my rough ploughman replies 
 And the ravening kite flies aloft to the skies. 
 
 So now these poor fowl from my farmyard I send : 
 Pray accept them and be my good kinsman and friend. 
 
 LV 
 IMaBD Jel €s GAAS, 
 
 ONE brace of birds for Stella, one for you, 
 Were ready for the ‘ Kinsman’s feast ’ to send, 
 When rose before my mind a clamorous crew 
 Of spectres, claiming each to be my friend ; 
 I cannot send to all, to give to two, 
 As I had purposed, might be to offend ; 
 So, to oblige all round and seem impartial, 
 I now propose to give both brace to Martial ! 
 
 279 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 tet PAA 
 EAPAVOYAGE 
 
 SPENDOPHORUS must on his lord attend 
 And soon to Libya his way will wend. 
 Give him, dear Love, a wand and those soft darts 
 Wherewith thou woundest eager lovers’ hearts. 
 - Cuirass and shield and helm I leave to thee, 
 He will be safe if naked he shall be, 
 E’en as Parthenopaeus felt no blow 
 From foemen’s dart while they could see his brow. 
 But whomsoe’er he pierces straight will die 
 Of love—how happy in death’s agony ! 
 O beauty bright, from Africa come home 
 And grow to manhood here with us in Rome. 
 
 PLY 
 COMPARISONS 
 
 THERE is nothing worn smoother than Hedylus’ cloak : 
 Not the neck of a mule that has long known the yoke, 
 Not the handle of some old Corinthian jar, 
 
 Not the ramshackle wheel of a slow-moving car, 
 
 Not the leg that for ten years a fetter has borne, 
 
 Not the hoe that long usage in vineyards has worn, 
 Not pebbles nor ruts on our northern highway, 
 
 Not a pauper’s wan toga who’s seen his last day, 
 
 Not a bison’s posterior scraped by the cage, 
 
 Not the tusk of a boar savage in his old age ; 
 
 Yes, there is just one thing: and he will not deny it ; 
 The place where he sits on’s more smooth, if you try it. 
 
 LVIII 
 ON A LAKE TEMPLE BUILT BY SABIAN 
 
 QUEEN of the hallowed lake, with pious care 
 
 Sabinus built thy fane that shall endure, 
 And long may Umbrian hillmen worship there, 
 
 Thy townsmen never yield to Baiae’s lure ; 
 If these my timid books thy favour share 
 
 My Muse shall greet thee as her fountain pure. 
 Say’st thou, “ who gives his book to nymphs to keep 
 Must own their proper grave is in the deep’ ? 
 
 280 
 
BOOK NINE 
 
 EEX 
 A GOOD CUSTOMER 
 
 AxBoutT the Saepta shops Mamurra strolled 
 
 Where opulence may squander wealth untold, 
 
 And first he viewed fair slaves with gloating eyes, 
 Not those an open shop will advertise, 
 
 No, but the kind reserved for private view 
 
 Unseen by common folk like me and you ; 
 
 He then stripped table-tops of antique make 
 
 And ivories kept aloft for safety’s sake. 
 
 That couch of tortoise-shell inlay was small 
 
 And would not fit his citron board at all; 
 
 He tried Corinthian bronzes by their scent, 
 Thought Polycleitus’ work indifferent, 
 
 And said the crystal vase was flawed—the two 
 
 Of agate he would mark, for they might do ; 
 
 Some bowls and ancient cups he took and weighed 
 As perfect gems as Mentor ever made, 
 
 Appraised the emeralds in enamel clear 
 
 And pearl-drops made to deck some snow-white ear, 
 Hunted for sardonyx through half the town 
 
 And tried to beat the price of jaspers down. 
 
 Then tired at nightfall, having ransacked Rome, 
 He bought two farthing crocks and took them home. 
 
 7 ALIS 
 WITH A PRESENT OF FLOWERS 
 
 BRIGHT garland, whether you from Paestum come, 
 Or Tibur or Praeneste is your home ; 
 
 Whether rich Tusculum your blossoms yields, 
 
 Or you give fame to fair Campanian fields ; 
 
 That for Sabinus you may have more charm, 
 Pretend you come from my Nomentan farm. 
 
 F 
 
 Oma LANE TREE PLANTED BY 
 RULLOS, CABSARRINGSEATN 
 
 In far Tartessus stands a house renowned, 
 Where rich Corduba Baetis woos in peace 
 And western sheep with living gold are crowned 
 Whose native ore makes pale the yellow fleece. 
 281 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Within its midst is mighty Caesar’s plane 
 
 Which as a shoot by his own hand was given. 
 It seems to know from whom its life began ; 
 
 So green it grows, so high it springs to heaven. 
 
 Oft drunken fauns have sported in its shade 
 And with their piping roused the house to fear, 
 Oft have its boughs concealed a Dryad maid 
 Who felt that Pan was in the darkness near. 
 
 The scent of Bacchic revels too it knows, 
 
 And thick have grown its leaves from spilth of wine, 
 While from red garlands fell the scattered rose, 
 
 And none could say of any bloom— ’Twas mine.’ 
 
 O dear to heaven, mighty Caesar’s tree, 
 Fear not the fire, the sacrilegious knife ; 
 
 It was not Pompey’s hand that planted thee, 
 Thy honours shall enjoy eternal life. 
 
 Ibe 
 ON PHILAENIS 
 
 SHE flaunts in garments Tyrian dyed 
 By day and night as well, 
 
 Tis not extravagance or pride, 
 Oh no—she likes the smell. 
 
 CAT 
 ON PHOEBUS 
 
 ‘Tis strange that Phoebus dines night after night 
 With knaves whose deeds could never bear the light ! 
 
 en INS 
 ON THE TEMPLE OF HERCULES-DOMITIAN 
 
 Our Caesar deigns to take Alcides’ face 
 And with new shrine the Latin Road to grace, 
 Just where the traveller to Diana’s home 
 Sees by the stone he is eight miles from Rome. 
 Here Hercules with vows and victims’ blood 
 Was worshipped once : now there’s a greater god 
 Whom men beseech for rank and wealth each day, 
 And from the other only trifles pray. 
 
 282 
 
BOOK NINE 
 
 TIA 
 
 ON THE SAME 
 
 ALCIDES, now as our fair Caesar seen, 
 
 Most welcome to the Latin Jove, I ween, 
 
 If such had been thy visage in men’s sight 
 What time the monsters yielded to thy might, 
 They had not seen thee bear thy cruel thrall, 
 Nor as a slave to Argive monarch fall. 
 
 Ne’er hadst thou wool for Omphalé unwound, 
 Or viewed the Styx and the Tartarean hound ; 
 Eurystheus would have bowed to thy behest, 
 Nor Lichas brought the Centaur’s guileful vest ; 
 Unvexed by Oeta thou hadst reached the heaven 
 Which by the pyre at last to thee was given. 
 Now Juno smiles, fair Hebé’s love is thine, 
 
 And Nymphs before thee blush for their rapine. 
 
 LXVI 
 
 PO Cra bOULLOS 
 
 ALTHOUGH your wife is young and fair, 
 You want a father’s right to share, 
 And that by legal fiction ; 
 But what you want of Caesar might 
 Be yours of ordinary right 
 Beyond all contradiction. 
 
 EXVIT 
 
 LASCIUAM tota possedi nocte puellam, 
 Cuius nequitias uincere nulla potest. 
 Fessus mille modis illud puerile poposci : 
 Ante preces totas primaque uerba dedit. 
 Inprobius quiddam ridensque rubensque rogaui : 
 Pollicitast nulla luxuriosa mora. 
 Sed mihi pura fuit ; tibi non erit, Aeschyle, si uis 
 Accipere hoc munus condicione mala. 
 
 283 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 LXVIII 
 
 TOVAS SCHOOLMAST ik: 
 
 ACCURSED Pedagogue, why plague me so ? 
 
 Your girls and boys abhor you—and no wonder— 
 Before the crested cocks begin to crow 
 
 Your savage howls and blows resound like thunder. 
 
 The clanging figure noisy blacksmiths fit 
 
 On a bronze horse with rivet and with hammer, 
 The howling mob that greets the favourite 
 
 In the arena cannot match your clamour. 
 
 A broken night is naught: to lie awake 
 
 The whole night through is really appalling ; 
 Shut up the school or tell me if you'll take 
 
 As much for silence as you get for bawling. 
 
 LXIX 
 
 Cum futuis, Polycharme, soles in fine cacare. 
 Cum pedicaris, quid, Polycharme, facis ? 
 
 1b), 4 
 TO CAECILIANUS 
 
 OF old ‘O Times, O Manners,’ Tully cried, 
 In Catiline’s foul days with treason rife, 
 When swords were red with parricidal strife, 
 And mourning Rome with civic blood was dyed. 
 Why mock our times to-day, and why deride 
 Our manners? Is not ours a happy life 
 That fears nor maddened chief nor murderous knife ? 
 No degradation this our age doth rue, 
 No leprous taint of shame—excepting you. 
 
 pint ES ©, GI 
 
 A STRANGE PARTNERSHIP 
 
 AN African lion has partner become 
 
 With a jolly old ram, and they live in one home. 
 
 You may see them yourself, for together they’re tied 
 
 And like trusty friends take their meals side by side. 
 284 
 
BOOK NINE 
 
 They don’t feed on acorns, nor does grass suffice ; 
 A tender young lamb seems to both very nice. 
 
 The Nemean terror and Hellé’s old ram 
 
 Compared with these two were a fraud and a sham. 
 If a place in the stars should to creatures be given, 
 Our goat and our lion are worthy of heaven. 
 
 b>.) @ 
 1O]TRE BOXER LIBER 
 
 A CHAMPION in the craft that Pollux knew, 
 
 A Greek in skill, Roman in might and thew, 
 
 You share the name of Bacchus—yet ’tis true 
 
 That in the basket I received from you 
 
 No jar I found the viands to bedew 
 
 Of—you know what—your name should give the clue. 
 
 oF LED, 9 NM 
 ON A PARVENU COBBLER 
 
 WITH your teeth you were wont on old leather to bite, 
 And stretch out a sole that was mud-rotten quite, 
 
 But now you have got your dead patron’s estate, 
 Who did not possess e’en a garret of late, 
 
 And in his bright crystal your hot drink enjoy 
 
 While you wanton at ease with his favourite boy. 
 
 Oh what a mistake that my fond parents taught 
 
 Me my letters, and tutors and schoolmasters sought ! 
 If these are the profits from mending old shoes, 
 Good-bye books and pens, and adieu to the Muse. 
 
 8 
 
 LXXIV 
 ON A PORTRAIT OF CAMONIUS 
 
 HERE may we trace the aspect that he wore 
 
 In childhood’s hour, the bud but not the flower ; 
 His sire forbore to paint his manhood’s grace, 
 
 Lest evermore grief should renew her power 
 Standing before that loved and silent face. 
 
 285 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 LXXV 
 ON TUCCA’S BATH 
 
 No flint, no ashlar, here are seen, 
 
 No brick like that wherewith her Queen 
 Built Babylon’s great wall ;. 
 
 It is of timber, planks, and lath, 
 
 This cooling room in Tucca’s bath 
 That is not cool at all ; 
 
 So closely all the timbers fit 
 
 That if he chose to sail in it 
 *Twould make a perfect boat. 
 
 The hot room’s rich with pillars wrought 
 
 By Phrygian quarrymen or brought 
 From Afric lands remote, 
 
 Though Sparta sent her marbles rare, 
 
 Though rich Euboea’s gems are there 
 Perfect in hue and form, 
 
 Tis always chill that marble tomb ; 
 
 O Tucca, use the cooling room 
 To make the hot one warm. 
 
 aad ed. .G04! 
 ON A. PICTURE OF CAMONIUS IN CHIDDEGGS 
 
 BEHOLD, the young Camonius you see 
 
 As when he sported in his infancy. 
 
 In twenty years his face had manlier grown 
 And his fair cheeks were shadowed by a down 
 Whose darkness just had felt the barber’s knife, 
 When jealous fate cut short his thin-spun life. 
 Far, far away he died ; and to his sire 
 
 Only came ashes from the funeral pyre. 
 
 So while this picture gives his childish face, 
 
 A later image in these lines I trace. 
 
 LXXVII 
 MUSIC WITH MEALS 
 
 Priscus describes with learned zest 
 The sort of feast he holds the best 
 In pages full of interest 
 
 And erudition ; 
 
 286 
 
BOOK NINE 
 
 But, if you ask my private view, 
 The best of all is that where you 
 Are not required to listen to 
 
 A damned musician. 
 
 LXXVIII 
 
 ON PICENTINUS’ MARRIAGE WITH GALLA 
 
 SEVEN husbands she got, 
 Made away with the lot, 
 And has buried them all—but I know 
 That as you’re number eight, 
 She has not long to wait 
 Before she rejoins them—below. 
 
 IED Od D8 
 
 ON DOMITIAN’S HOUSEHOLD 
 
 THE servants once who stood at Caesar’s board 
 In the proud palace were by Rome abhorred. 
 But now your men to all, Sire, are so dear 
 That our own households are our second care ; 
 So deferential are they and so kind, 
 
 Such modest calm in every face we find. 
 
 Each page takes pattern by his master’s ways 
 And not his own, but Caesar’s, mood displays. 
 
 ano 
 A BAD BARGAIN 
 
 Poor John in his youth was so very sharp-set, 
 
 He married a grand dame for what he could get. 
 
 To-day he discovers there’s plenty to do ; 
 
 For he has both to feed her and fondle her too. 
 287 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 LXXXI 
 ON ANS ENVIGUS RIVA 
 
 ‘ UNPOLISHED ’—so that scribbler sneers, 
 While he that reads and he that hears, 
 Approve my little books ; 
 I do not care a single jot, 
 My fame is for my guests and not 
 To please my rival cooks. 
 
 * LXXXII 
 A QUICK END 
 
 AN astrologer said that you would not last long, 
 And I really imagine he was not far wrong, 
 
 For, wishing to leave not one penny behind, 
 
 In a year you have thrown your estate to the wind ; 
 A very nice fortune you’ve managed to spend, 
 
 So I think we may say that you’ve had a quick end. 
 
 LXXXITI 
 
 ON A REFORM OF DOMITIAN’S 
 
 FAIR were the pageants given in days of yore, 
 To Caesar owe we deeper obligations ; 
 
 Our eyes confess they owe him much, far more 
 Our grateful ears—he banned the recitations ! 
 
 atid BP... PG 
 
 TO NORBANUS 
 
 WHILE for our lord with loyalty unstained 
 
 The rage of lawless foemen you restrained, 
 
 I who your love have e’er my glory made, 
 
 Was sporting safely in the Muses’ shade. 
 
 But when to Rhaetia my poems came, 
 
 And the far north was busy with my name, 
 Never did you our friendship then deny 
 
 But ‘ He’s my own, my comrade,’ oft would cry. 
 Soon may the author read to your kind ears 
 
 All you have heard about in these six years. 
 
 288 
 
BOOK NINE 
 LXAXXV 
 THE SICK HOST 
 
 HE is ill he states, 
 But he violates 
 All medical orthodoxy, 
 And so to atone 
 He gorges alone 
 And fasts as it were by proxy. 
 On the evidence 
 It is all pretence, 
 So quickly the illness rose up ; 
 But I see it quite 
 In a serious light, 
 For my dinner has turned its toes up ! 
 
 * LXXXVI 
 Vie Loe DEATH OF SEVERUS 
 
 WHEN Silius, twofold lord of Latin tongue, 
 The fate untimely of Severus sung, 
 
 I to the Muses made my mournful cry 
 
 And thus did great Apollo give reply— 
 
 ‘J wept for Linus, and Calliopé 
 
 Who stands hard by, has borne like grief with me. 
 Yea, cruel Fate has ventured e’en to move 
 With bitter grief the heart of either Jove, 
 The Thunderer in his Tarpeian shrine 
 
 And the great dweller on the Palatine. 
 Since then e’en they to fate relentless bow, 
 Forbear to charge the gods with envy now.’ 
 
 LXXXVII 
 TOPEURERGUS 
 
 SEVEN goblets of Opimian, a bumper full was each, 
 
 I quaffed, and that will make a man a trifle thick of speech. 
 You chose this hour to come and say, ‘ My Nasta I have freed, 
 He was my father’s servant, pray just sign and seal the deed.’ 
 My seal is busy ; if you call to-morrow ‘twill be right, 
 
 The seal upon a cork is all that it can mark to-night. 
 
 289 rT: 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 LXXXVITII 
 THE BREAKING-POINT 
 
 You used to send me gifts, now having won 
 My favour, as you think, you send me none ; 
 Tis best to feed a captive now and then, 
 The boar ill-fed is like to force his den. 
 
 ve dG DG 
 LOWS JE REA 
 
 YouR guests must write you rhymes 
 Before they may fall to ; 
 
 It’s very hard sometimes— 
 ‘Well, any stuff will do.’ 
 
 XC 
 
 LOPETACCUS 
 
 In flowery meadows may you lie 
 
 With pebbly streamlets rippling by 
 
 Whose banks with blossoms are aglow ; 
 
 No care or sorrow may you know. 
 
 Cool be your cups of mellow wine 
 
 And sweet the chaplets that you twine. 
 
 Yours be a love who’s all your own, 
 
 A maid who pines for you alone. 
 
 This, Flaccus, is mine earnest prayer, 
 
 But, friend, shun Cyprus and her glare 
 
 What time they thresh the parching grain 
 
 And flame doth glow in Leo’s mane. 
 
 O Paphian Queen, my wish fulfil, 
 
 Restore the youth untouched of ill, 
 
 So hallowed shall thy Kalends be 
 
 And many a cake be offered thee 
 
 With gifts of frankincense and wine 
 
 Poured out before thy gleaming shrine. 
 290 
 
BOOK NINE 
 
 7h >.< OF | 
 ON DOMITIAN’S BANQUETING-HALL 
 
 IF I were called to diverse feasts above, 
 
 This way by Caesar and that way by Jove, 
 Though heaven were near, the palace far away, 
 These were the words that to the gods I’ld say— 
 “Seek some one else to be the Thunderer’s guest. 
 I have my Jove on earth : 7e sus, 7e reste.’ 
 
 NCL 
 
 TRUE SERVITUDE 
 
 ‘ How easy live the free,’ you say, and brood 
 Upon your long but easy servitude. 
 See Gaius tossing on his downy bed ; 
 Your sleep’s unbroken tho’ the couch be rude ; 
 He pays his call ere chilly dawn be red, 
 You need not call on him, you sleep instead ; 
 He’s deep in debt, hears many a summons grim 
 From creditors that you need never dread, 
 You might be tortured at your master’s whim ; 
 Far worse the gout that racks his every limb ; 
 Think of the morning qualms, his vicious moods, 
 Would you for thrice his freedom change with him ? 
 
 XCITI 
 A TOAST TO DOMITIAN 
 
 Pour out six measures from the older cask ; 
 Why dally so? Nay, pour the deathless wine. 
 “What holy name has letters six, you ask, 
 Save Caesar’? Aye my thought you can divine ; 
 So in my wreath ten lovely roses twine 
 For him the builder of the Flavian fane 
 And give me kisses ten to be a sign 
 That as a god Sarmaticus doth reign. 
 291 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 XCIV 
 TUNA’ DOGTOE 
 
 To me ’tis filthy strychnine you dispense, 
 
 Then ask for wine! Why, damn your impudence ! 
 In Homer, Glaucus for a crazy whim 
 
 Exchanges gold for bronze—am I like him ? 
 
 Give a sweet draught to you and take instead 
 That bitter stuff? The fool is off his head. 
 
 Well take it then—but ere you drink it up 
 
 Pour a stiff dose of bromide in the cup ! 
 
 * XCV_ (A) 
 ON A BACHELOR NEWLY WED 
 
 WHEN Algernon Brown was a bachelor gay 
 
 He was put by the girls at the top of class A ; 
 But his value has sadly decreased since he wed, 
 And now he appears at the bottom of Z. 
 
 * XCV_ (B) 
 ON THE SAME 
 
 You ask—‘ Has he any real name of his own, 
 
 This person you call Mr Algernon Brown’ ? 
 
 I’m damned if I know: call him Brown, my dear fellows: 
 I can’t bear the blame of your friend’s peccadilloes. 
 
 *-XCVI 
 
 ON A DOCTOR 
 
 Doctor HEROD when caught with a cup in his pocket 
 Said—' Wine does you harm ; if you’re wise, you will dock it.’ 
 292 
 
BOOK NINE 
 XCVII 
 JEALOUSY 
 
 WITH jealousy he’s like to burst— 
 
 What have I done to rouse him so— 
 Until he cracks with rage accurst ? 
 Rome reads my books—that is the worst 
 
 Of all offence to him—and lo! 
 
 With jealousy he’s like to burst ; 
 But other grudges he has nursed, 
 
 I’m pointed out in street and show 
 Until he cracks with rage accurst 
 Because the grant is not reversed 
 
 That Titus gave me long ago. 
 
 With jealousy he’s like to burst, 
 Not yet my crimes are all rehearsed ; 
 
 My house and farm annoy my foe 
 Until he cracks with rage accurst ; 
 He’d ban my friendships if he durst ; 
 
 My dinners give him bitter woe ; 
 With jealousy he’s like to burst. 
 
 Men love me, spite has not aspersed 
 
 My fame—that makes his gall to flow 
 Until he cracks with rage accurst ; 
 He’s near to bursting—let him burst ! 
 
 ACVIIT 
 LHEY LAST RESOURCE 
 
 ALL round the vintage failed ; upon the trade 
 
 Ruin marched quick—the saving rain yet quicker : 
 Logwood and Company I hear have made 
 
 A hundred hogsheads of their usual liquor. 
 
 PAL. 
 LOU ATTICUS 
 
 ANTONIUS loves my humble verses, friend, 
 If to his letter we may credence lend ; 
 The glory of our wise Tolosa he, 
 
 Child of repose and bland felicity. 
 
 293 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Go then, my book, and be of love a token 
 
 Whose strength by journeys long is never broken, 
 A trivial thing, if one should buy and give, 
 
 But from the author value you derive. 
 
 Great is the difference tween fountain-head 
 
 And water stagnant in a trough of lead. 
 
 C 
 TOBA SIU S 
 
 THE feast you gave me cost but half a crown, 
 Yet I must call next day in proper trim 
 
 And walk before your chair through half the town 
 To call on ten old hags of aspect grim. 
 
 My toga’s worn and shabby I admit, 
 
 But half a crown won’t buy the like of it. 
 
 EoGL 
 TO DOMITIAN-HERCULES 
 
 Tuou Appian Way, of all our roads the queen, 
 Whom Caesar hallows as Alcides seen, 
 
 If thou wouldst know the toils of Hercules, 
 
 Hark to the tale and listen—they are these. 
 
 He killed the Libyan, won the fruit of gold, 
 
 And took her girdle from the Amazon bold ; 
 
 The lion and the Arcadian boar he slew, 
 
 Nor let the hydra’s heads spring forth anew ; 
 The brazen stag, the birds of Stymphalus, 
 
 He drove away, from hell dragged Cerberus, 
 
 And to the Tiber Geryon’s cattle brought : 
 
 These are the deeds the lesser hero wrought. 
 Now for the greater god: his exploits hear 
 Whom the sixth stone from Alba doth revere. 
 The Palatine he saved from ruthless lords 
 
 And for his god in boyhood crushed their swords. 
 Then when alone he’d gained the sovranty 
 
 He gave it up, consenting third to be. 
 
 Three times he’s humbled northern Hister’s brow, 
 And three times bathed his steeds in Getic snow, 
 And takes a victor’s name from Arctic skies, 
 Albeit he scorns these easy victories. 
 
 Peace, morals, stars, divinities to heaven, 
 Temples to gods, and wreaths to Jove, he’s given. 
 For him Alcides must too puny prove ; 
 
 Come now, our god ; appears as father Jove. 
 
 294 
 
BOOK NINE 
 A 
 LOmPHORBUS 
 
 You return me my bond for four thousand : ’twere better 
 To lend me a thousand and leave me your debtor. 
 
 You must find some one else to oblige in that way ; 
 
 The money’s my own which I cannot repay. 
 
 ve TOTO 
 ON TWO PAGE-BOYS 
 
 Wuat Leda in another swan’s embrace 
 
 Bore you these pages twain so like in face ? 
 
 In Hierus a Pollux we behold, 
 
 Asylus wears the mien of Castor bold, 
 
 And both have Helen’s beauty. Had they been 
 In Sparta when small gifts made Venus queen, 
 Paris had cried— No Tyndaris I need : 
 
 I choose instead this double Ganymede.’ 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
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BOOK 
 
 I 
 PREFACE 
 
 Am I too big to suit your mind ? 
 Is ‘ finis ’ long delayed ? 
 Read but few epigrams, and find 
 How short I can be made ! 
 Choose the quatrains and couplets—see 
 The columns end with these— 
 For so a bulky tome may be 
 As little as you please. 
 
 etl 
 
 BiveALOLUGY (AS VPREPACE 
 
 IN too great haste I published Volume Ten : 
 Behold it here revised with careful pen. 
 
 Some things you'll recognise in their new dress, 
 But of the pieces most, you'll find, are fresh. 
 Be kind to both, dear reader ; for of old 
 
 Rome said to me— Your readers are your gold. 
 By them the stream of Lethé you'll survive, 
 
 By them the better part of you will live.’ 
 
 The wild fig splits Messalla’s marbles through, 
 And Crispus’ steeds are shattered quite in two: 
 
 TEN 
 
 But books are helped by time nor hurt by thieves, 
 
 Memorials that death uninjured leaves. 
 
 ig 
 
 TOMER SOUS 
 
 SLAVES’ jargon, filthy venom, he doth spit, 
 The scenes of Billingsgate it might befit, 
 
 Pedlars who prowl the slums for broken glass 
 
 Would scorn to give a sulphur match for it. 
 
 He calls it mine to sully my repute, 
 The slinking knave is easy to refute ; 
 
 Would parrots copy quails, would Canus take 
 
 The squealing bagpipes for the mellow flute ? 
 Far from my books be that degraded fame, 
 
 They soar on jewelled wings unmarred of shame ; 
 
 *Twill cost me nothing if I hold my peace— 
 Then wherefore toil to win a sullied name ? 
 
 299 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 weal 
 REAL LIFE 
 
 YE folk, who read of Oedipus and Scylla and Medea 
 
 And King Thyestes in the dark, you'll find no wonders here. 
 
 What good to us are boys who lived in ages long by gone, 
 
 Parthenopaeus, Attis, and the drowsed Endymion, 
 
 Or ravished Hylas, or the lad who lost his pinions white, 
 
 Or he who hates the amorous stream, the young Herma- 
 phrodite. 
 
 In silly fables such as these the foolish may delight, 
 
 But of this volume Life will say—‘ ’Tis mine ’—and she'll be 
 right. 
 
 No Centaurs here nor Gorgons nor fierce Harpies you will see ; 
 
 My pages have the savour of our own humanity ; 
 
 ‘To read about myself,’ you say, ‘ is scarcely worth my while.’ 
 
 Then turn to old Callimachus: you'll find him just your 
 style. 
 
 Vv 
 THE SCANDAL-MONGER 
 
 May that proud knave, who in his loathly verses 
 The fame of noble dame and lord asperses, 
 Trudge through the slums outcast from every hovel, 
 From every haunt where clamorous beggars grovel ; 
 So may he crave the crusts of curs rejected, 
 Without a den to lurk in, unprotected ; 
 Through the long dripping winter may he quiver 
 *Mid endless biting blasts to make him shiver, 
 Acclaim as blest, and envy every mortal 
 Borne out to enter Orcus’ gloomy portal ; 
 Long may he pray that lagging death may ease him, 
 And, when the thread is spun ere Pluto seize him, 
 Hear dogs that howl to gnaw his bones and tear them, 
 See carrion birds and wave his rags to scare them ; 
 And then may hell of suffering never purge him, 
 But Aeacus with bitter lashes scourge him, 
 With Sisyphus let him lie crushed and bleeding, 
 With Tantalus be parched ’mid waves receding, 
 Bear every pang that poets have reported ; 
 And when the furies have the truth extorted, 
 May conscience make more bitter all his curses, 
 And he confess ‘ twas I that wrote the verses.’ 
 
 300 
 
BOOK TEN 
 mAVGL 
 
 ON TRAJAN’S RETURN TO ROME 
 
 Au happy they, whom Fortune grants to see 
 
 Our chief ablaze with northern pageantry. 
 
 When shall our maidens at their windows stand 
 And fill the Campus with their happy band ? 
 When shall all Rome on the Flaminian Way 
 
 See the dust rise that ends the dear delay ? 
 
 While knights and painted Moors and people cry— 
 “He comes, he comes ’—as Caesar passes by. 
 
 VII 
 ON THE SAME 
 
 EAcH stream and Naiad fed on Northern snows, 
 O Rhine, to thee, the sire, her life blood owes ; 
 Henceforth unfettered be thy waters fair 
 
 That no barbarian wheel shall ever dare, 
 
 When thou art bound by frost, to traverse thee ; 
 If thou wouldst go thy way, thy banks made free, 
 And thou be Roman, thou must needs restore 
 Our Trajan to his folk and town once more. 
 
 His presence doth the royal Tiber need ; 
 
 Thine overlord is he, do thou give heed ! 
 
 VIII 
 THE CONDITION 
 
 THouGH Paula wants to marry me, 
 That wealthy hag, I can’t agree ; 
 
 I really do not think I could: 
 
 If she were older, then I would ! 
 
 IX 
 POETIC FAME 
 
 I AM a poet famed the wide world through 
 For measures Ovid and Catullus knew, 
 For merry wit and kindly—this I claim. 
 Yet envy not—A Derby winner’s fame 
 Is greater ; mine of course must rank below it, 
 I am a poet. 
 301 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 * xX 
 TO PAULUS 
 
 THOUGH your laurel-wreathed axes announce the new year 
 At a thousand levees every morn you appear. 
 
 What to us do you leave ? What in Rome can I do, 
 Who am one of the people, the poor vulgar crew ? 
 
 Shall I hail him as ‘ lord’ who scarce gives me a glance ? 
 The greeting you give your proud honours enhance. 
 
 Shall I follow his chair? You to bear it desire 
 
 And strive to go first through the thick of the mire. 
 
 Shall I rise to applaud him ? That chance you ne’er miss 
 And are standing already to throw him a kiss. 
 
 What shall poor fellows do whom no patron will own ? 
 Your consular purple has ousted our gown. 
 
 XI 
 TO CALLIODORUS 
 
 Or Theseus and Pirithous you rave 
 And boast yourself the peer of Pylades. 
 Hang me if you are fit to play the slave, 
 To clean a sty, or feed the swine for these ! 
 You boast the thrice-turned coat, the loan you gave 
 Your friend to meet his need—Remember, please, 
 The heroes gave no doles, but shared their store ; 
 Whatever you may give you keep far more. 
 
 Ds UL 
 TO DOMITIUS 
 
 SOON upon the Aemilian Way you will go 
 
 And visit Vercellae and see the broad Po. 
 
 Deuce take it, I’m glad you are going, my friend, 
 
 Though upon you my days for enjoyment depend. 
 
 I shall miss you, but still it is worth it, I own: 
 
 For one summer you're free from the burden of Town. 
 
 Let your skin drink the sunlight in each greedy pore— 
 
 How handsome you'll grow on that far distant shore ! 
 
 When you come back you'll seem quite a different man ; 
 
 We poor pallid townsfolk will envy your tan. 
 
 But though you be burned, as by Egypt’s hot sun, 
 
 Stay a few weeks in Rome and that brown will be gone. 
 302 
 
BOOK TEN 
 XIII 
 
 BOGOTA 
 
 A CARRIAGE bears your pampered horde along, 
 A Libyan toils behind to guard the throng, 
 
 Your rooms are strewn with couches everywhere, 
 You stain the very sea with unguents rare, 
 
 Fine vintages your crystal goblets crown, 
 
 And Venus lies not on a softer down ; 
 
 Yet at the threshold of a haughty fair 
 
 All night you lie—she heeds not tear or prayer— 
 Sighs rend your heart—I know beyond a doubt 
 What’s wrong—you never learned to do without. 
 
 See LV 
 
 We Ee KOO ESOP CE RIENDSHTP 
 
 You say you're my friend, but you never will lend 
 F’en a trifle: it’s always ‘No, No’! 
 Your coffers are brimming, your Nile-fields are swimming 
 With plenty, while I hungry go. 
 When winter draws nigh do you ever supply 
 Me with gown, or a fat present make? 
 No proof can I find of your friendship but wind : 
 And that in my face you will break. 
 
 eV 
 Dit CAKEPOULD LOVER 
 
 From Cupid Afer stole a dart 
 
 And with it pierced a maiden’s heart. 
 It’s true her dowry fanned love’s flame ; 
 But then friend Afer knows the game. 
 
 AO SAE 
 
 TO GAIUS 
 
 IF ‘ promise ’ and ‘ give’ mean exactly the same, 
 Though you never hand over, I’ll play your own game. 
 Please accept all the ore of Asturia’s mines 
 
 And the rich golden sand that old Tagus refines, 
 
 393 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Accept all the pearls that in India rest, 
 
 And the wealth that the phoenix conceals in his nest, 
 Accept the wet purple that Tyrians store, 
 
 Accept all the world—but in promise, no more. 
 
 XVII 
 TO MACER 
 
 "Tis vain my Muse that you refuse your seasonable wit ; 
 
 And so to do is lawless too, since Macer asks for it ; 
 
 A quip, a jest will please him best—no solemn verses, pray— 
 
 For he complains your metry strains have ceased for many 
 a day ; 
 
 Reports, indeed, he ought to read as guardian of the roads ; 
 
 O Appian Way, what will you say if he reads heavy odes ? 
 
 XVIII 
 ON MARIUS 
 
 HE never entertains nor gives to any, 
 
 He never lends, he has not got a penny ; 
 
 Though barren his regard, men strive to win it ;— 
 Your toga, Rome, has many a fool within it. 
 
 eh DG WA 
 ROR PIS: 
 
 Go now, my Muse, and take this screed 
 For learned Plinius to read : 
 
 It is not wise nor yet discreet 
 
 But still it has a spice of wit. 
 
 Short is the way ; just climb the height 
 Across Suburra till you sight 
 Spray-sprinkled Orpheus ’mid the throng 
 Of beasts enraptured with his song, 
 And by his side the eagle bold 
 
 That bore the boy to Jove of old, 
 
 And so to Pedo’s modest home, 
 
 Its frieze bird graven, you will come. 
 
 304 
 
BOOK TEN 
 
 But do not with strong liquor flown 
 Knock at a time that’s not your own. 
 His days to study he must give, 
 Composing speeches that shall live 
 With Tully’s best, to please the ears 
 And win a verdict from the Peers. 
 
 More safe ’twill be to go a-calling 
 
 If lamps are lit and night is falling. 
 That is your hour, when reigns the rose, 
 When brows are wet, and Bacchus flows ; 
 For when the Wine-god wildly rages 
 Stern Catos well may read my pages. 
 
 dD 
 INO AU ONERER 
 
 DEAR Manius, comrade of my boyhood’s years, 
 Than whom none dearer in the land of Spain, 
 No man more worthy of my love appears, 
 ‘Tis you who make me wish to see again 
 My native homesteads and the golden shore 
 That Celtiberian Salo washed of yore. 
 
 If you were with me I would be content 
 To dwell in Afric village parched and dry, 
 With you beside to share my banishment 
 I would endure the cold of Scythia’s sky : 
 Yea, every place to us a Rome would be 
 Where every thought is shared ’twixt you and me. 
 
 XXI 
 LHE PEDANT 
 
 Way should you choose to make your verse obscure ? 
 The most expert grammarians it amazes, 
 
 Till Bentley doubts and Porson is not sure 
 About the meaning of your crabbed phrases ; 
 
 No mortal can appreciate your style, 
 It needs the intellect of an Apollo ; 
 Think you that Virgil being clear is vile, 
 And Cinna nobler being hard to follow ? 
 
 395 U 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Since in obscurity you put your trust, 
 
 If there be fame in that, your verse should win it ; 
 Mine is for men of taste—no Dry-as-dust 
 
 Need toil to extricate the meaning in it. 
 
 XXIT 
 
 PRECAUTIONS 
 
 I SMEAR my lips with salve, my chin with plaster, 
 And yet, Philaenis, there is naught amiss ; 
 
 I only use them to avoid disaster ; 
 What do I apprehend, you say ?>—A kiss. 
 
 XXIII 
 
 TO ANTONIUS PRIMUS ON HIS 
 SEVENTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY 
 
 THOSE five-and-seventy years now safely gone, 
 How happy is your quiet age, how dear 
 
 Are memory’s pictures that you gaze upon, 
 You need not shrink, tho’ Lethe’s wave be near ; 
 The past has not a shade for you to fear, 
 
 No page of all its book you dread to con; 
 Redoubled happiness and life hath he 
 Whose joy doth live again in memory. 
 
 FOX CLV 
 
 ON HIST BIRT HDA 
 
 DEAR first of March, my natal morn, 
 Fairest of days, when I was born, 
 Such gifts as I from maidens take, 
 This censer and this birthday-cake 
 I, fifty-seven now, do bring 
 
 To your high shrine as offering. 
 
 If it be well that I should live 
 
 Twice nine years more may heaven give ; 
 And then I will not ask for more, 
 But go still hale to Pluto’s shore, 
 Rejoicing that three parts I’d run 
 Of life, before my days were done. 
 
 306 
 
BOOK TEN 
 * XXV 
 A CIRCUS SCENE 
 
 Ir Mucius, when you saw him yesterday, 
 
 His hand within the fire boldly lay, 
 
 Seemed to you brave and valiant and strong, 
 
 Then to Abdera’s people you belong. 
 
 For when the torturer says—‘ Thrust in your hand ’, 
 The brave man’s he who hears not the command. 
 
 XXVI 
 ONG OE DEATH OF VARUS 
 
 HONOURED of all but yesterday, 
 
 Loved of his men and of Egypt’s throng, 
 Now in a stranger land, the prey 
 
 Of death, for his coming we vainly long ; 
 O’er that marble face we might not weep, 
 Not ours with perfume the pyre to steep ; 
 But the traitor Nile cannot take away 
 
 The fame that lives in a deathless song. 
 
 FX XVIT 
 BO DIODORK U.S 
 
 AT your board on your birthday the senate reclines, 
 And many a knight in your company dines. 
 
 Each guest gets a crown when the banquet is done: 
 And yet people say you are nobody’s son. 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 PREP EM PLES OmSLAN US 
 
 FOUNDER of time and all therein, 
 
 With thee our prayers and vows begin, 
 Janus, thou glorious god, 
 
 Too mean of yore was thine abode, 
 
 For through thine arch as by a road 
 Rome’s hurrying myriads trod ; 
 
 397 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Where’er thy fourfold face doth turn 
 A forum now mayst thou discern ; 
 Thy shrine may none profane. 
 For Caesar’s gift, a boon so great, 
 Keeps fast for aye thine iron gate 
 In sign that peace doth reign. 
 
 XXIX 
 LO SEAT LTAN GE 
 
 On Saturn’s feast you used to send 
 Me plate, but now my luck is dead, 
 You give it to your lady friends 
 Instead. 
 
 My natal day no toga brought, 
 That customary gift you dock 
 Because the price of it has bought 
 
 Her frock. 
 
 How cheap is she, that lady gay, 
 For not a penny you have lost ; 
 You win her favour and J pay 
 The cost. 
 
 XXX 
 A VILLA AT FORMIAE 
 
 SWEET Formiae, the pleasant home 
 Apollinaris loveth well, 
 Released from all the cares of Rome 
 ’*Tis here that he would choose to dwell ; 
 Tibur his heart cannot beguile 
 Though there his, loving spouse was born ; 
 He seeks not Circe’s witching isle, 
 Praneste, Antium, he doth scorn ; 
 Though fair be Tusculum’s retreat, 
 And Caieta has ancient fame, 
 Though Liris’ gentle stream be sweet, 
 His fealty they cannot claim ; 
 He chooses not thy cooling shade. 
 Marica, and he would forsake 
 The fountain of the water-maid 
 Who plunges in the Lucrine lake ; 
 
 308 
 
BOOK TEN 
 
 Here is no stagnant sea or air 
 The deep, a living thing, exhales, 
 Soft breath to toy with Thais’ hair 
 And gently fill the painted sails ; 
 How lightly here the Zephyrs play, 
 As though a maiden’s dainty hand 
 The heat of summer to allay, 
 Her loveliness had softly fanned ; 
 Not far the fisher needs to roam, 
 But in the waters clear and still 
 Beneath the casement of his home 
 May watch and take his prey at will ; 
 And here though Aeolus should rave, 
 The table lacks not dainty fare ; 
 The fish-pool fears no angry wave, 
 Pike, mullet, lampreys all are there, 
 Home-bred its denizens and tame 
 Huge mullets here and barbel swim, 
 Whose keeper knows them all by name 
 And at his call they come to him ; 
 Their lord, alas, through all the year 
 From city toil is seldom free, 
 Few days, O Rome, thou givest him here, 
 How many he must give to thee ; 
 Oh happy they who may abide 
 In this fair place although in thrall ; 
 These pleasures doth their lord provide, 
 His servants have the joy of all. 
 
 XXXI 
 TORCALLIQDOKUS 
 
 WHEN yesterday you sold a slave and spent 
 On one luxurious feast the price he brought, 
 How foul that feast ; the mullet that you bought, 
 Its very crown and pride, to all intent 
 Was not a fish, and thus we brand your greed— 
 Ah, loathly wretch, on human life you feed. 
 
 * XXXII 
 ON A PORTRAIT 
 
 You ask whose lineaments this picture shows, 
 Which now I deck with violet and rose. 
 
 Here stands Antonius in his youthful prime 
 Who thus in age still knows his manhood’s time. 
 Ah would thus pictured we his mind could see ! 
 No painting to the world more fair would be. 
 
 309 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 Yeo. hill 
 TO MUNATIUS GALLUS 
 
 SIMPLER than Sabines in their golden age, 
 
 In virtue loftier than the Attic sage, 
 
 My loyal friend, may Venus grant thee this, 
 That, through thy lovely daughter’s wedded bliss, 
 Thy union with a house of ancient fame 
 
 Endure for ever, so thou clear my name 
 
 That foul malevolence has dared asperse ; 
 
 If any say I wrote that poisoned verse, 
 
 Do thou reply as often thou hast said, 
 
 “None writes like that whose verse is ever read.’ 
 My Muse speaks never ill of any man ; 
 
 "Tis but their vices lie beneath her ban. 
 
 PD SOE AY: 
 TO THE EMPEROR TRAJAN 
 
 May the gods grant thee, Sire, thy due reward, 
 Who dost the rights of injured patrons guard. 
 That they should not by freedmen exiled be, 
 And make thee blessed for perpetuity. 
 
 But clients also know thee for their friend 
 Prepared to their just claims thy help to lend. 
 Thou dost deserve, and hast, the power to aid: 
 May it be thine to prove these words I’ve said. 
 
 OOO, Qi) 
 LHEVEPORT VSOEPICIE 
 
 YE wives, Sulpicia’s pages scan, 
 
 Who wish to please one only man : 
 
 Ye husbands, read Sulpicia too, 
 
 Who wish one only bride to woo. 
 
 She tells not of Medea’s rages ; 
 
 Scylla and Byblis in her pages 
 
 Have no existence, in the least, 
 
 Nor yet Thyestes’ direful feast ; 
 
 She tells of love that’s pure and good, . 
 
 Where wit meets mirth in happy mood, 
 310 
 
BOOK TEN 
 
 And honest critics well may say 
 
 None is more modest, none more gay. 
 E’en so Egeria, well I wot, 
 
 Would jest with Numa in her grot. 
 Had Sappho her as teacher seen, 
 
 More wise, more modest, she had been ; 
 Though were she set by Sappho’s side 
 Phaon would choose her for his bride ; 
 Yet all in vain: she would not follow 
 Jupiter, Bacchus, or Apollo 
 
 To be their mate, or live one day 
 
 If her Calenus passed away. 
 
 XXXVI 
 
 TO MUNNA 
 
 You search the vaults of Gaul for doctored wine, 
 Jars mellowed (save the mark !) in smoky heat, 
 Across the sea this poison you consign 
 At vast expense your luckless friends to cheat ; 
 The price of it would buy Falernian sweet, 
 With this would Setine vineyards be content, 
 And far from home you work lest you should meet 
 And have to drink the filthy wine you sent. 
 
 XXXVIT 
 TO MATERNUS 
 
 Honest of speech by your skill you reign 
 Unchallenged lord of the Courts of Rome ; 
 Your friend and comrade is going home, 
 
 Have you any commands for the Spanish main ? 
 
 Is it better to catch foul frogs or bait 
 For worthless sticklebacks here or there, 
 To throw again to his rocky lair 
 The mullet of less than three pounds’ weight ? 
 
 Of tasteless mussels a feast you make, 
 And think dwarfed cockles are dainty fare, 
 Whilst Baiae envies the oysters there, 
 And even the slaves a share may take. 
 311 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Which is the better, a fox to snare 
 That wounds your hounds with his poisoned teeth, 
 Or to draw full nets from the deeps beneath 
 
 And set them again for a leaping hare ? 
 
 Here is your keeper—he looks quite vain 
 Having caught a badger—oh dainty dish ! 
 You dwell by the coast, Rome sends you fish, 
 
 Have you any commands for the Spanish main ? 
 
 POSEN TH 
 
 CALENUS AND SUPEIC I 
 
 For fifteen years, Calenus, by your side, 
 Sulpicia has lived, a blooming bride. 
 
 O nights of bliss, whose each immortal hour 
 
 Is marked by pearls from distant India’s shore. 
 What conflicts and what rivalry of love 
 
 Has your bed witnessed and the lamp above ! 
 These fifteen years alone you hold as life, 
 
 Nor count the days before you had a wife. 
 
 For if kind Fate would turn again the page 
 One day surpasses four times Nestor’s age. 
 
 XXXIX 
 
 TH ESOLD MS Er hes 
 
 LESBIA, in owning you were born 
 
 When Charles was King, you are forsworn ; 
 And if ’twas Charles Martel you meant, 
 You lie again : it’s evident 
 
 That one with your experience must 
 
 Have sprung with Adam from the dust ! 
 
 tes Le 
 INNOCENT AMUSEMENTS 
 
 I was told that my Polla had taken a fancy 
 
 To intimate talks all alone with a Nancy. 
 
 I ventured upon them one evening to call, 
 
 And I found that he was not a Nancy at all. 
 312 
 
BOOK TEN 
 XL 
 LO PROCULEIA 
 
 You left your honoured spouse on New Year’s day 
 And claimed your dowry back ; what sudden strain 
 Has burst the bond? What is the quarrel pray ? 
 I know the reason you will not explain ; 
 His proper state as Praetor to maintain 
 A thousand pounds or so he must disburse, 
 However meanly done be Rhea’s show ; 
 And on the public games to make it worse 
 Two hundred more—no matrimonial woe 
 You urge, but fear that he should wrong your purse. 
 
 oe ET 
 TO DINDYMUS 
 
 So soft on your cheeks is the shadowy down 
 
 That it fades with a breath in the breeze or the sun. 
 
 Such a delicate bloom as on quinces oft lingers 
 
 That shine when they’re plucked by a maiden’s soft fingers. 
 And if too repeated my kisses I press 
 
 On your lips, a new beard springs up from my caress. 
 
 ALIII 
 MeeRODUCTIVE ESTATE 
 
 SEVEN wives you’ve had and all of them lie buried in your 
 field ; 
 I don’t suppose that any land could boast more rich a yield. 
 
 BNL LV, 
 On CU By SiO VLE US 
 
 DEAR Ovid, who to Caledonia’s snow 
 
 And Tethys and old Ocean now must go, 
 
 Leaving Nomentum and King Numa’s heights 
 And that warm hearth in which your age delights, 
 
 313 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Fate cannot be differred though pleasure may, 
 
 Her threads to your account each moment pay. 
 
 So when you’ve shown, your comrade dear to please, 
 That you prefer your promise to your ease, 
 
 Then to your Sabine farm your presence lend 
 
 And count yourself your own most precious friend. 
 
 XLV 
 
 PERVERTED TASap 
 
 THE graceful tributes of my verse, 
 My tender lyrics, you asperse ; 
 Too suave and soft their tone ; 
 And, like a mongrel cur, eschew 
 The dainties that I offer you, 
 And choose to gnaw a bone ; 
 For liquor sour in taste and scent 
 Go seek elsewhere, for mine is meant 
 For cultured taste alone. 
 
 See LVL 
 
 TO MATHO 
 
 You must always be witty : ’twere better, you know, 
 To blend good and bad with the just so-and-so. 
 
 FDS ENN 
 
 THE SEAPPY SEE 
 
 THE things that make a happy life, 
 My genial friend, are these : 
 
 A quiet dwelling free from strife, 
 Health, strength, a mind at ease ; 
 
 Money bequeathed, not hardly won, 
 
 A blazing fire when work is done. 
 
 Ingenuous prudence, equal friends, 
 Bright talk and simple fare, 
 
 A farm that crops ungrudging lends, 
 Soberness free from care, 
 
 A wife who’s chaste yet fond of sport, 
 
 And sleep that makes the night seem short. 
 
 314 
 
BOOK TEN 
 
 With what you are be satisfied, 
 
 Nor let ambition range ; 
 Contented still whate’er betide 
 
 And caring naught for change. 
 Pray not for death, nor yet feel fear 
 When the last hour of life draws near. 
 
 XLVIII 
 THE INVITATION 
 
 THE priests proclaim the hour at Isis’ shrine, 
 
 When guard is changed ’tis time to bathe and dine ; 
 Cool are the baths too hot an hour ago, 
 
 At the sixth hour with Nero’s heat they glow ; 
 Friends, are you ready? There are five of you, 
 My horse-shoe couch holds seven—Bring Lupus, too. 
 My bailiff’s wife has gathered mallows light 
 
 And garden treasures for the feast to-night. 
 
 Sliced leeks there are, dwarf lettuce cool and smooth, 
 Rocket to stimulate and mint to soothe, 
 
 Anchovies crowned with egg and dressed with rue, 
 And pickled pork with tunny wine, will do 
 
 To whet the appetite, and following these 
 
 A kid the ravening wolf had hoped to seize, 
 Rissoles that need no carving-knife are there, 
 Spring cabbages and beans—the labourer’s fare, 
 
 A fowl, a ham that twice has served: and last 
 Sweet apples come to crown the whole repast. 
 
 Then as to home-grown wine, I know ’tis clear, 
 Free from all crust, for it was made this year ; 
 
 Gay jest and kindly wit shall this beget 
 
 With naught to bring repentance or regret ; 
 
 Safely we'll gossip of the racing season, 
 
 The cup shall stir no guest of mine to treason. 
 
 XLIX 
 LOPGOTLA 
 
 IN cups of amethystine hue 
 Was rich Opimian poured for you, 
 ’Twas common Sabine raw and new 
 You gave to me, and said, 
 ‘Wilt have a cup of gold for it’ ? 
 No, I will not, for I submit 
 A golden cup is hardly fit 
 For drink as dull as lead. 
 
 315 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 1 
 ON THE DEATH OF THE CHARIOTEER, SCOKPOUS 
 
 BREAK, Victory, the palm of thy renown, 
 Let Favour smite her naked breast, and Fame 
 Don sorrow’s garb ; let Glory cast the crown 
 That decked her tresses to the cruel flame ; 
 Robbed of his youthful prime—ah deed of shame— 
 The grim black steeds doth Scorpus yoke: of yore 
 Swiftly he drove, swift to the goal he came, 
 Too swiftly now his race of life is o’er. 
 
 M6] 
 LAE MOY SROes Pi 
 
 THE Bull looks backwards on the Ram, for now 
 
 The changing twins have stilled the winter’s breath : 
 The meadow smiles and green is every bough, 
 
 And Philomel doth wail for Itys’ death. 
 
 My busy friend, for thee calm joy is banned, 
 Ah for the sunshine and ungirdled ease, 
 
 The groves, the water-springs, the shining sand, 
 With Anxur bright above the dancing seas. 
 
 Ah for the couch from which on either side 
 Thou seest the boats at sea, or in the port 
 
 Or on the stream, for here thou canst deride 
 Rome’s baths, and theatres and.wrangling court, 
 
 And here no gleaming temple soars aloft, ' 
 Here hath the Thunderer no towering shrine ; 
 Now tired thou sayest—methinks I hear thee oft— 
 ‘ Rome keep thine own but let my life be mine.’ 
 
 LI 
 
 THEYLIN uiderat in toga spadonem, 
 Damnatum Numa dixit esse moecham. 
 
 316 
 
BOOK TEN 
 Lill 
 ONG Pherae OL SCORPUS 
 
 ScorPus am I, the charioteer 
 Who gained a glorious name, 
 
 The noisy circus held me dear, 
 But ah, how brief my fame ! 
 
 At twenty-seven my course was done, 
 For Lachesis, cajoled 
 
 By counting up the palms I won, 
 Had thought that I was old. 
 
 POLL 
 LOZOLUS 
 
 Your close-sheeted tables may be very fine, 
 But, if you cannot see them, so likewise are mine. 
 
 LV 
 
 ARRECTUM quotiens Marulla penem 
 Pensauit digitis diuque mensa est, 
 Libras scripula sextulasque dicit ; 
 Idem post opus et suas palaestras 
 Loro cum similis iacet remisso, 
 Quanto sit leuior Marulla dicit. 
 
 Non ergo est manus ista, sed statera. 
 
 LVI 
 LOULGALLUS 
 
 I wAIT on you all day, my home forsaking, 
 Thrice climb the Aventine tho’ great the height is ; 
 Now A can stop or draw a tooth that’s aching, 
 And B perhaps may heal conjunctivitis, 
 To deal with scars is C’s sole undertaking, 
 While D can cure a case of tonsilitis ; 
 Had I a hernia to E you’d send me ; 
 But I’m a total wreck—and who can mend me ? 
 
 317 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 eSLNIL 
 TO SEXTUS 
 
 EIGHT ounces of pepper! I’m sorry to state, 
 Instead of a pound of good bright silver-plate. 
 I will not disparage your kindness, my lord : 
 But pepper, at that price, I cannot afford. 
 
 2 AEAVANAL 
 
 LOerACST TINGS 
 
 A CALM retreat by Anxur’s sparkling foam, 
 
 A nearer Baiae, and a seaside home, 
 
 A wood cicadas could not noisy make 
 
 In the hot summer, and a river lake ; 
 
 While these were mine, with you the Muse I wooed ; 
 But now great Rome consumes my solitude. 
 
 I toil in vain, no day is here my own, 
 
 Tossed like a mariner on the waves of Town, 
 While my suburban acres J maintain 
 
 And humble dwelling near Quirinus’ fane. 
 But there are other ways to show regard 
 Than lounging at your levees, and a bard 
 Must never waste a moment ; yet I swear, 
 Though I neglect them, you I hold most dear. 
 
 LIX 
 
 LO A DAINTY CRITIG 
 
 You like the shortest poems, not the best, 
 
 ’Tis those you always read—and skip the rest ; 
 I spread a varied banquet for your taste, 
 
 You take made dishes and the rest you waste. 
 And wrong your appetite, for truth to tell 
 
 A satisfying meal needs bread as well. 
 
 1X 
 
 ON MUNNA 
 
 Munna has asked the right for children three, 
 Two boys he has—a schoolmaster is he. 
 
 318 
 
BOOK TEN 
 LXI 
 EROTION’S GRAVE 
 
 HERE sleeps the body of the little maid, 
 Erotion, 
 
 Ere her sixth winter fate had called her shade 
 To hasten on ; 
 
 Whoe’er thou art who after me shall own 
 This tiny plot, 
 
 Lay year by year the dues upon her stone ; 
 Forget her not. 
 
 So shall thy house endure nor suffering know, 
 And this remain 
 
 The only sign and monument of woe 
 On thy domain. ) 
 
 Per 
 TO A SCHOOLMASTER 
 
 GooD schoolmaster, pray give your classes a rest. 
 If you do, I will ask that next term you be pressed 
 By curly-haired boys flocking close to your table, 
 And no short-hand clerk or quick counter be able 
 To boast that he has a more studious crew 
 
 Of pupils and fonder of teacher than you. 
 
 The hot sunny days are upon us again, 
 
 And blazing July burns the ripening grain, 
 
 So let your grim rod and your whip, put to sleep, 
 Till the Ides of October a holiday keep. 
 
 In summer if children can only stay well, 
 
 They learn quite enough and can rest for a spell. 
 
 IES, SA 
 ON A MATRON’S GRAVE 
 
 GREAT is mine honour, tho’ my tomb be small ; 
 No marble pile, no pyramid you see. 
 Twice I beheld Tarentum’s festival, 
 And lived a long life through from sorrow free ; 
 Five sons, five daughters, Juno granted me, 
 And all survived to hear my latest breath. 
 High glory seldom won I gained—for he 
 I loved was mine, I his alone till death. 
 
 319 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 * LAIV 
 TO POLLA, WIFE OF LUCA 
 
 DEAR lady, if you read this little book, 
 
 Do not with frowns upon my jesting look. 
 He, your own bard, our Muse’s chiefest glory, 
 When on Pierian trump he sang war's story, 
 Was not ashamed to write in playful strain— 
 ‘If I’m no Ganymede, why here remain ? ’ 
 
 NED GM 
 TO CHARMENION 
 
 You are from Corinth—loathly den 
 And I a Spanish citizen 
 From Tagus’ land, I wonder then 
 
 That you should call me ‘ brother’ ; 
 While you are decked with tresses fair 
 And smooth your limbs with daily care, 
 I have the Spaniard’s shaggy hair ; 
 
 Are we like one another ? 
 
 You lisp and squeak, I far prefer 
 
 My baby’s tone as manlier ; 
 
 Are pigeons like to eagles, Sir ? 
 Pray cease my ears to blister 
 
 With such endearments ; it is plain 
 
 Kids cannot wear the lion’s mane; 
 
 Just call me ‘ brother ’ once again, 
 And I will call you ‘ sister ’. 
 
 SP LESSVeL 
 10. THE PAGE, THEOPOMEGS 
 
 WHO pray could be so harsh, so proud of look 
 As to declare that you should be a cook ? 
 Could any man endure your face to shame 
 With soot, or mar your hair with greasy flame ? 
 Who in your place will hold the crystal glass, 
 Or with more grace the old Falernian pass ? 
 If fates like this you angel boys attend, 
 Ganymede too will in the kitchen end. 
 
 320 
 
BOOK TEN 
 
 LXVII 
 ON AN OLD WOMAN’S GRAVE 
 
 SHE saw the flood in Noah’s time, 
 
 To Cush she acted foster-mother, 
 But she was rather past her prime 
 
 When Muilcah flourished and her brother ; 
 With reverence seemly in a sage 
 
 Old Abram spoke of her as ‘ Granny ’, 
 And it was in her middle age 
 
 That Isaac loved to call her “ Nanny ’. 
 No hoary crow her years surpassed, 
 
 But still a mate we don’t deny her : 
 Here lies she—amorous to the last— 
 
 With Jacob’s oldest shepherd by her. 
 
 ALP 
 TO A LADY WHO APES FOREIGN FASHIONS 
 
 You were not born in Paris nor yet Armentieres, 
 And you live in a flat near Park Lane, it appears. 
 Your father I know was a native of Thame, 
 
 And your simple old mother from Somerset came ; 
 Yet though you're as English as honest Queen Bess, 
 As ‘ chéri’ and ‘ mon chou’ all your men you address. 
 A couch is the place for such phrases as these, 
 When a maiden is anxious her lover to please. 
 Perhaps you would learn like our matrons to speak, 
 And ways of allurement to win lovers seek ? 
 
 Well, though you may practise the tricks of Paree, 
 You will never a Madame de Pompadour be. 
 
 ta b>, Cid, 
 THE BREECHES-WEARER 
 
 WHEN a wife keeps her man under close lock and key 
 And herself goes wherever she will ; 
 I think in this case every one will agree 
 That Jack is the lady not Jill. 
 321 X 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 IED, &, © 
 IREDIROUENTE ERS 
 
 In twelve whole months one book I hardly finished, 
 So you declare my industry too small ; 
 
 What hours have I by trouble undiminished ? 
 The wonder is that I should write at all. 
 
 Ere dawn I call on patrons who ignore me, 
 To wish them all the luck that’s never mine ; 
 Then social care and business come to bore me, 
 To seal some deed I scale the Aventine ; 
 
 The Consul or the Praetor may detain me, 
 Or I am caught in their attendant throng, 
 Often a dismal poet will constrain me 
 To hear his wretched verses all day long ; 
 
 If men of law or critics have waylaid me 
 With some request, I dare not say them nay ; 
 And when at weary eve my dole is paid me 
 What time is left for writing verses pray ? 
 
 FIL 
 AN EPITAPH, IN DEATH UNiGee 
 
 WHOE ER thou art who dost for parents pray 
 
 A late and happy end, one moment stay 
 
 And read the record on this tomb engraved, 
 Wherein Rabirius in death has laid 
 
 His father and his mother. They together 
 
 Lived sixty years through fair and stormy weather, 
 And then together died without regret, 
 
 While on one pyre their bodies both were set. 
 
 And yet Rabirius unconsoled doth mourn 
 
 As though from him they were untimely torn. 
 
 LXXII 
 THE NEW REGIME 
 
 Go smooth-lipped flatteries ; this verse of mine 
 Is now made free. I need no more abase 
 My Muse, nor call our chief a ‘ Lord Divine’, 
 Henceforth in Rome have ye no resting-place. 
 322 
 
BOOK TEN 
 
 Seek the bedizened Persian King who craves 
 Abjects about his jewelled feet to crawl ; 
 
 Here Trajan rules, no lord of grovelling slaves, 
 A senator, most righteous of them all ; 
 
 From death to life is rugged truth restored, 
 And here in simple grandeur reigneth she ; 
 
 O Rome, be wise—forget the words abhorred 
 That tyranny aforetime wrung from thee ! 
 
 b>. O.4 AGE 
 LTO MARCUS 
 
 A WELCOME pledge your letter brings, I own, 
 The formal gift of an Italian gown ; 
 
 Not such a one as old Fabricius wore, 
 
 But such as gay Maecenas donned of yore. 
 Less precious were it from another hand— 
 Not every victim heaven can command— 
 But sent from you I must the name approve, 
 F’en if the gift itself I did not love ; 
 
 And more than gift and name do I commend 
 The kindly judgment of my learned friend. 
 
 LXXIV 
 REPOSE 
 
 SPARE me, for | am tired with labour long 
 
 And social calls ; O Rome, thou canst discern it ; 
 Still must I toil amid the clients’ throng 
 
 For one half-crown, and spend all day to earn it. 
 
 Great sacks of gold the charioteer reward, 
 
 It takes him but a single hour to win them ; 
 My little books demand no golden hoard, 
 
 For well they know how little there is in them. 
 
 I do not ask Apulian fields to till, 
 
 Hybla’s or Egypt’s wealth that none may number, 
 Or vineyards rich that crown the Setine hill ; 
 
 The greater boon I ask is merely slumber ! 
 
 323 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 * LXXV 
 THE CLIMAX 
 
 WITH Galla it once was—‘ Two hundred, mon cher ’— 
 And I will confess it, she did not seem dear. 
 
 A year passed away, and one hundred seemed more, 
 When she sank to that figure, than two had before. 
 Another half-year and ’twas— Twenty I'll make it’: 
 I offered her ten, but she said—‘ I can’t take it’. 
 
 Two or three months went by and I got a short note— 
 ‘Five pounds I am asking ’—the good lady wrote. 
 
 I did not respond, so she came to a pound, 
 
 And even a sovereign too much I found. 
 
 When we met the next time, she was willing to have 
 The paltry half-crown I had given my slave. 
 
 Do you think she was able much lower to go ? 
 
 Yes. ‘Take me for nothing’. My answer was— No’. 
 
 LXXVI 
 THE POET’S REWARD 
 
 Now, Fortune, is this fair in you ? 
 
 Here’s one, no Parthian or Jew, 
 
 No abject slave, re-made as knight, 
 
 But Roman both by blood and right ; 
 Learned in Greek and Latin, kind, 
 
 A trustier friend were hard to find— 
 
 Yet he was shivering, while in scarlet 
 Mule-drivers flaunt. You say ‘ the varlet 
 Is guilty of acrime’? I knowit; 
 
 A sad one too—he 1s a poet. 
 
 LXXVII 
 ONGCAKUS 
 
 CARUS is dead ; the infamous deceiver ; 
 
 To crown his many crimes he died of fever ! 
 That fever too was cruel and malignant, 
 
 It should have been a quartan, more benignant ; 
 For had it brought the germs of that to fill him, 
 He might have lived to let the doctor kill him. 
 
 324 
 
BOOK TEN 
 Seas eV ULE 
 
 TO MACER 
 
 To far Salonae now your way you wend, 
 Whom loyalty and love of right attend, 
 And power that never seeks its purse to fill, 
 But has fair virtue for its handmaid still. 
 
 O happy dwellers in that golden land, 
 
 Your ruler will return with empty hand, 
 And you with tearful joy on his last day 
 Will seek pretexts to make him longer stay. 
 But I, who long to see you once again, 
 
 Go now my way to Gaul, and savage Spain : 
 But on each page from Tagus’ wave I write, 
 My pen shall Macer’s honoured name indite. 
 And so when you peruse the bards of old, 
 May I a favoured place among them hold, 
 And of that goodly band of poets see 
 
 None save Catullus taken before me. 
 
 if 1h? OGD. 
 THE RIVALS 
 
 TORQUATUS acquired a mansion near town ; 
 
 Otacilius at once bought a plot for his own. 
 
 Torquatus built baths that with marble shine bright ; 
 Otacilius set up a bath-pot that night. 
 
 Torquatus laid out laurel-groves for his ease ; 
 
 Otacilius planted a hundred nut-trees. 
 
 When Torquatus was consul, the other became 
 
 A town mayor, and thought that the posts were the same. 
 Like the frog in the fable who puffed till he burst, 
 Otacilius won’t let Torquatus be first. 
 
 TX OX. 
 THE CONNOISSEUR 
 
 WHEN Eros weeps in blank despair 
 To see a cup of Myrrine ware, 
 Fair slaves, a citrus table-top, 
 The very pick of all the shop, 
 
 325 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 And groans for bitterness to spy them 
 Because, poor wretch, he cannot buy them, 
 You laugh and jeer to hear him sigh, 
 
 Good onlooker, whose eyes are dry ! 
 Though envious tears your soul bedew, 
 
 Is he a greater fool than you ? 
 
 LXXXI 
 
 Cum duo uenissent ad Phyllida mane fututum 
 Et nudam cuperet sumere uterque prior, 
 
 Promisit pariter se Phyllis utrique daturam, 
 Et dedit : ille pedem sustulit, hic tunicam. 
 
 1? O,4 0 
 LOSGALLGS 
 
 IF in my suffering any good you find, 
 I’ll call at dawn or midnight, nor complain, 
 Nipped by the bitter blast of freezing wind, 
 Endure the snow and brave the chilling rain ; 
 But not a single farthing you can gain, 
 And I must bear a tortured slave’s distress— 
 Oh spare a weary wight the wanton pain 
 That racks him and to you is profitless ! 
 
 of EPO, BE 
 TO MARINUS 
 
 You scrape a few hairs from the side of your head, 
 So that over your bare-shining baldness they spread ; 
 But blown by the wind they return to their place 
 And with two big curls your poor naked poll grace. 
 You'ld think that we had old Silenus in sight 
 Between young Adonis and Hermaphrodite. 
 
 Confess your old age and leave all your head bare : 
 There’s nothing more ugly than bald men with hair. 
 
 LXXXIV 
 THE BEDFELLOW 
 
 HE sits up late, you think it odd demeanour ? 
 Think of his wife! Good heavens, have you seen her ? 
 
 326 
 
BOOK TEN 
 
 LXXXV 
 A PARADOX 
 
 AN ancient boatman bought a plot of ground 
 Beside the stream where he had plied his calling, 
 But Tiber’s winter flood rose quickly round 
 The field, and threatened ruin most appalling ; 
 And so with stones he filled his useless boat 
 Which, now a dam, averted inundation. 
 Strange miracle! a craft that would not float 
 Has proved a troubled mariner’s salvation ! 
 
 LXXXVI 
 THE ARCHER 
 
 YounG Laurus with unerring aim 
 Strove eagerly to capture fame. 
 
 So much he loved the butts that he, 
 Old and retired, a butt must be ! 
 
 LXXXVII 
 Vetoes Bin LtDAY OF RESTITUTOS 
 
 Tuy pious duty Rome fulfil, 
 In prayer and silence greet the morn, 
 Ye wrangling courts, your clamour still, 
 To-day your orator was born ; 
 The trash a pauper client lays 
 Before his lord for offering 
 May wait for Saturn’s merry days, 
 Ye rich, your choicest treasure bring ; 
 Proud huckster from Agrippa’s street 
 Send him a cloak of Tyrian hue, 
 Gay reveller, a robe should greet 
 The counsel who defended you. 
 Oh wronged but now triumphant dame, 
 Bring gems to him, no glittering paste ; 
 And, antiquary, he doth claim 
 Silver that Phidias’ chisel chased ; 
 From hind or hunter, kid or hare, 
 From fisher, treasure of the sea, 
 If each a fitting gift must bear, 
 What should the poet’s offering be ? 
 
 327 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 of AEA, O18 WO 
 A’ PIGKER UP OF TRIPLES 
 
 BEFORE the sittings have begun 
 Friend Cotta into court will run, 
 And every judge’s notice scan. 
 He is indeed a busy man ! 
 
 LXXXIX 
 ON. THE HERA OF POLYCLETIGS 
 
 How glorious the Hera who hath brought 
 To Polycleitus an undying fame, 
 
 The perfect loveliness his hand hath wrought 
 Phidias the master might have longed to claim. 
 On Ida’s mount the shepherd, free of blame, 
 
 Had crowned her as the fairest ever seen ; 
 
 Aye, she had set the heart of Zeus aflame 
 
 Had he not loved his sister and his Queen. 
 
 XC 
 
 QUID uellis uetulum, Ligeia, cunnum ? 
 Quid busti cineres tui lacessis ? 
 
 Tales munditiae decent puellas 
 
 (Nam tu iam nec anus potes widerl) ; 
 Istud, crede mihi, Ligeia, belle 
 
 Non mater facit Hectoris, sed uxor. 
 Erras si tibi cunnus hic uidetur, 
 
 Ad quem mentula pertinere desit. 
 Quare si pudor est, Ligeia, noli 
 Barbam uellere mortuo leoni. 
 
 XC] 
 
 OMNES eunuchos habet Almo nec arrigit ipse : 
 Et queritur pariat quod sua Polla nihil. 
 
 328 
 
BOOK TEN 
 XCII 
 TO MARIUS 
 
 ATINA boasts you are her son, but here 
 
 Oft have you shared my peace and hold it dear. 
 Guard my twin pines, the glory of the glade, 
 
 And the holm-oaks, for Faunus loves their shade ; 
 Here doth the lord of Thunder’s altar stand, 
 Built rudely by my bailiff’s rustic hand, 
 
 With one to wild Silvanus by its side 
 
 Which blood of lamb and kid has often dyed ; 
 Diana rules the little shrine you see, 
 
 And Mars is there, his sister’s guest, for he 
 
 Is patron of my month. Keep this, I pray, 
 
 And likewise tender Flora’s grove of bay, 
 
 Her refuge when Priapus doth pursue ; 
 
 Pay sacrifice to all in order due, 
 
 And when the kindly gods you recompense 
 
 With offerings of blood and frankincense, 
 
 Speak thus :—‘ Though far away doth Martial dwell, 
 Wherever he may be, he loves you well ; 
 
 Think he is here to share my pious task, 
 
 And grant us both whatever boon we ask’. 
 
 PLT 
 DOSCLEMENS 
 
 Ir Padua should greet your eyes 
 Ere yet I may behold her, 
 
 Where from the spreading plains arise 
 The vine-clad hills to fold her, 
 
 My songs to your Sabina bear, 
 No reader yet has conned them ; 
 Proudly their purple robe they wear 
 But only now have donned them ; 
 
 How fair the earliest roses look, 
 With rapture we regard them ! 
 Fair the fresh pages of a book 
 Ere any touch has marred them. 
 
 329 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 XCIV 
 WITH A BASKET OF APPERS 
 
 Not like Pheacia’s are my trees, 
 
 No guardian dragons turn about them ; 
 Nomentum has no need of these, 
 
 Her orchards are secure without them. 
 
 The prowling thieves my fruits eschew, 
 For-all the season through they harden. 
 The autumn spoils I send to you 
 Were harvested in Covent Garden ! 
 
 XCV 
 
 INFANTEM tibi uir, tibi, Galla remisit adulter. 
 Hi, puto, non dubie se futuisse negant. 
 
 OAL 
 LOS AVI OS 
 
 You wonder why I, who in Rome have grown old, 
 Should still yearn for Salo and Tagus’ rich gold, 
 
 And ever of far-distant lands sing the charms, 
 Desiring the fields of their opulent farms. 
 
 Well, I long for the place where a little supplies 
 
 All you need, and each cottage contains luxuries. 
 
 Here a farm means expense, there its owner it pays ; 
 Here a poor stingy fire, but there a bright blaze. 
 
 Here hunger costs money and shops your purse drain ; 
 There your table is stocked from your own rich domain. 
 Here four or more gowns in one summer wear through 
 There one will suffice for four autumns to go. 
 
 Fie then on your patrons. The country affords 
 
 Such wealth as you ne’er will obtain from proud lords. 
 
 XCVIT 
 DISAPPOINTMENT 
 
 Now all was done—the funeral pyre 
 Was built and ready for the fire ; 
 
 His wife—fast fell the tears from her— 
 Had bought the spices and the myrrh ; 
 
 208 
 
BOOK TEN 
 
 Bier, urn, and grave were ready too, 
 And bearers all in order due ; 
 At the last gasp old Numa still 
 Had just the strength to sign his will 
 
 - With me as heir—then back he fell— 
 And died? Oh no, he got quite well ! 
 
 ad DACA WE 
 POSE ODES 
 
 WHEN your page is more wanton than young Ganymede, 
 And is far better dressed, as by all is agreed, 
 
 Than your sister or wife or your daughter or mother, 
 As they lie on the couches beside one another ; 
 
 Do you want me instead at your ivories to stare, 
 
 Or seem for your lamps and your tables to care. 
 
 If you don’t want to think of your guests any harm, 
 Let the pages who serve us be fresh from the farm, 
 Unkempt, underhung, without manners at table, 
 The sons of your herd reeking still of the stable. 
 Your tastes are betrayed by the look in your eyes ; 
 For minions and morals do not harmonise. 
 
 mA CLX 
 
 Cheat ORLRAIT OP. JULIUS RUFUS 
 Peet Are hOMHIS m OALLRE SS. 
 
 HAD Socrates a Roman been, 
 As Julius Rufus here he’s seen. 
 
 C 
 ON Par PLACTAKEST 
 
 To mix with yours my verse you steal, 
 The knavish trick is far from deft ; 
 The easy contrast will reveal 
 The theft. 
 
 Think you a lion’s lordly roar 
 Resembles the hyena’s howl, 
 Or would you with the eagle soar, 
 Poor owl ? 
 
 331 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Had you one wooden leg, and one 
 Endowed with Ladas’ might of limb 
 Do you suppose that you could run 
 Like him ? 
 
 PG 
 ON THE PROFESSIONAL WIT, CAPIEOERNTS 
 
 IF old Galba, once so happy with Augustus as his lord, 
 
 Were to us from his Elysium for a day to be restored, 
 
 And against Capitolinus now a jesting-match should try, 
 ‘Boorish Galba, cease your fooling ’"—all the audience would 
 
 cry. 
 
 CII 
 THE WONDERS OF NATURE 
 
 A AND his wife long years have lived apart, 
 And now that wife has given him a son. 
 Well, B can match that miracle in art ; 
 He fathers verse, but has begotten none. 
 
 eeCiit 
 TO HIS FELLOW-TOWNSMEN 
 
 YE sons of Bilbilis, beneath whose walls 
 The rushing Salo leaps and foams and falls, 
 My fellow-townsmen, do you take delight 
 In your bard’s verses, and his glory bright ? 
 Be sure I am your honour and your fame, 
 And that Verona owes no more her name 
 To gay Catullus than you yours to me, 
 
 She who is fain that I her son should be. 
 Now four-and-thirty summers have gone by 
 Since without me to Ceres’ deity 
 
 You bring your rustic cakes, while I away 
 In Italy have seen my hair turn grey. 
 
 If you will welcome my return, I come: 
 
 If not, | must go back again to Rome. 
 
 332 
 
BOOK TEN 
 
 CRAY! 
 MVESSAGE TO, SPAIN 
 
 Go, cross the wide but kindly sea 
 With Flavus, go, my little book, 
 And may the gales propitious be 
 Until on Tarraco you look ; 
 Thence in a carriage travel fast 
 Till Bilbilis, and Salo too, 
 Shall greet you, five swift stages past,— 
 What orders do I give to you ? 
 Let naught be done till you have been 
 To greet the few I loved of yore, 
 The comrades that I have not seen 
 These four-and-thirty years and more ; 
 Bid Flavus find a pleasant spot 
 —I ask no costly luxuries— 
 A cheap but comfortable cot 
 Where weariness may lie at ease. 
 The captain’s cursing you amain, 
 Fair is the breeze, he will not brook 
 Delay and one must not detain 
 A ship—Good-bye, my little book ! 
 
 333 
 
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BOOK ELEVEN 
 
 if 
 LO His BOOK 
 
 How spruce you are, my book ; how debonair ! 
 Is Tyrian dye the hue for daily wear ? 
 
 You're decked to see Parthenius ? Foolish rover, 
 Go—and return with not a page turned over : 
 
 He pores o’er documents of state alone 
 
 And shuns your Muse, and seldom courts his own. 
 Are lesser folk too mean for you? Nay, go 
 
 And seek forthwith Quirinus’ portico ; 
 
 Tis near, and you will find an idler host 
 
 Than Pompey’s or Europa’s porches boast, 
 
 Or that wherein the heartless Jason stands ; 
 Some two or three perhaps, with curious hands, 
 May shake the bookworms from your trifling page, 
 That is, should nothing serious engage 
 
 Their mind, and they be tired of sporting chat— 
 Of course you cannot hope to vie with that. 
 
 etl 
 CARNIVAL 
 
 FORBIDDING Cato with your rigid frown, 
 And old Fabricius’ daughters, get you gone ; 
 And masked Conceit, and stiff Propriety 
 And all that in the darkness we put by. 
 
 Ho for the Saturnalia, my boys ! 
 
 Ours under Nerva are permitted joys. 
 
 Read crabbed Santra, if you so incline ; 
 
 But let me be; this little book is mine. 
 
 i Ali 
 A PATRON WANTED 
 
 My song is not for city-folk alone, 
 Not ears of idlers only hear my lay, 
 But stern centurions its magic own, 
 "Mid Getic frost they thumb my pages gay, 
 And painted Britons sing my songs, men say ; 
 ‘What profit ’ ? saith my empty purse to me. 
 Yet could I sound a strain of deathless worth, 
 So loud and clear my clarion tone should be, 
 If Heaven that gives Augustus back to earth 
 Would send Maecenas, niggard Rome, to thee. 
 
 Dos V 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 IV 
 ON NERVA’S THIRD CONSULSHIP 
 
 HoME-Gops, whom great Aeneas saved of old, 
 Leaving his wealth when Troy was all afire, 
 And Jove, now imaged in eternal gold, 
 Thou child, thou sister of the heavenly sire, 
 And Janus too, fulfil my heart’s desire— 
 Preserve unchanged the prince thou hast enrolled 
 Thrice on thy page—and let the Senate be 
 In following Nerva, perfect e’en as he. 
 
 paral’ 
 TO THE EMPEROR NERVA 
 
 In thee such reverence for right we see 
 
 As Numa showed us in his poverty, 
 
 Though hard it is your ways on his to mould 
 When Croesus ne’er could vie with you in gold. 
 Were the great names of yore to live again, 
 And we might empty the Elysian plain, 
 Camillus with thee will for freedom stand, 
 Fabricius gold accept from out thy hand, 
 Brutus accept thy guidance, Sulla grant 
 
 To thee the power he doth no longer want ; 
 Pompey his love in private will allow 
 
 And Crassus on thee all his wealth bestow. 
 Yea, even Cato, from hell’s nether tide 
 Returning, now will be on Caesar’s side. 
 
 VI 
 HO FOR THE, SATURNAL ES 
 
 GLAD are the days of ancient Saturn’s feast 
 What time the lordly dice-box reigns, a king ; 
 O cap-decked Rome, is not my Muse released 
 From trammels now? You laugh—so I may sing ; 
 Hence, hence ye pallid cares, get far away 
 And let me speak whatever comes to mind, 
 No need have I of surly thought to-day— 
 But first a lavish draught of Nero’s kind, - 
 
 338 
 
BOOK ELEVEN 
 
 Half wine, half water ; that’s the rule, my slave ; 
 So fill the generous cup ; then mingle more 
 Than erst Pythagoras to Nero gave ; 
 Sober I’m naught, but if good wine you pour 
 A tenfold spirit shall my song inspire : 
 And add the kisses that Catullus knew, 
 Then should I sing with all Verona’s fire 
 And even match the ‘ sparrow song’ for you. 
 
 PLE 
 TOMPA CLA 
 
 NEVER more will you say to your poor silly dolt 
 Of a husband—before to your lover you bolt— 
 “The Emperor bade me this morning to go 
 
 To Circeii or Alba ’—That trick’s useless now. 
 Under Nerva you might a Penelope be, 
 
 If from your old itch you could only get free. 
 
 But how will you manage ? Suppose you pretend 
 You are going to see a poor sick lady-friend— 
 Your husband will trot at your heels all the way 
 And insist on your people a visit to pay. 
 
 Other wantons perhaps to cool their inner fire 
 Might say that a spitz-bath is what they require : 
 But to tell the plain truth is much better by far, 
 And to cry—‘ There’s my lover. I’m off. Tra-la-la’. 
 
 ce MAILE 
 WIS SES 
 
 BREATH of balm from foreign trees, 
 Scent of saffron on the breeze, 
 Fields abloom in leafy spring, 
 Winter apples ripening, 
 
 Silken robes worn by a queen, 
 Amber in maids’ hands that’s been, 
 Dark Falernian from a jar 
 
 When 'tis shattered—but afar, 
 Hyblan bees o’er garden beds, 
 Chaplets from rich feasters’ heads, 
 Altars, where the incense burns, 
 Cosmus’ alabaster urns— 
 
 a 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Why say more? All fragrant scents, 
 
 If you mingle their contents, 
 
 Do no more than match the kiss 
 
 Of my lover. What is this ? 
 
 Want to know his name? Ah, well, 
 
 Swear that you will never tell. 
 
 You say you’ve sworn already. That won’t do. 
 Methinks, my friend, you want too much to know. 
 
 IX 
 ON THE TOMB OF THE ACTOR MEMOR 
 
 ENNOBLED by the poet’s crown, 
 Memor, the glory of the stage, 
 
 Death may not vanquish thy renown, 
 Art bids thee live from age to age. 
 
 xX 
 ON TURNUS, BROTHER OF MEMOR 
 
 For lighter verse is Turnus known, 
 The tragic bays he would not claim ; 
 
 Since these had Memor made his own, 
 He would not mar a brother’s fame. 
 
 eel 
 OLD FASHIONS AREY SES 
 
 OFF with these chaliced bowls from Nile’s warm land 
 And give me, boy, the mug with careless hand 
 Which once my sires from close-cropped pages took, 
 That so my board may have its ancient look. 
 Sardanapallus, drink from jewelled cup, 
 
 You who for women’s pots broke Mentor up ! 
 
 340 
 
BOOK ELEVEN 
 PL 
 LOSZOILGS 
 
 TAKE, if you will, a ‘ father’s right ’ for seven, 
 You who’ve no father nor yet mother even. 
 
 aL 
 Swerve TOMB OL VTHE ACTOR PARIS 
 
 STAY, traveller, and pass not by 
 This noble monument unread, 
 The city’s darling here doth lie, 
 Wit, art, and grace with him are fled 
 And Rome doth mourn uncomforted. 
 Lost is her dear delight and prize, 
 For love and all desire are dead, 
 Hid in the grave where Paris lies. 
 
 TEXLYV 
 ON A DWARF’S TOMB 
 
 HoB is too small to have a mound raised o’er him: 
 One clod of earth would be too heavy for him. 
 
 sf Da 
 THE EES LIVES SEASON 
 
 SoME books of mine old Cato’s bride 
 And sober Sabine dames might read ; 
 This one throws gravity aside 
 And is a very naughty screed. 
 
 It’s wet with wine and feels no shame 
 With Cosmian perfumes to be sprayed, 
 It tells of Cupid’s wanton game 
 And boldly calls a spade a spade. 
 
 But so did Numa long ago ; 
 
 And these loose verses, pray remember, 
 Do not my life and manners show, 
 
 They’re meant to suit with gay December. 
 
 341 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 he Qi 
 A WARNING TO PRUDES 
 
 GRAVE reader, go—wherever you may please— 
 I’m writing now for Roman cits at ease. 
 
 This scroll is full of Priapean rhymes 
 
 And sound of castanets from Spanish climes. 
 Though you more stern than ancient Curius be 
 You will be fired, methinks, if you read me. 
 Yet modest maidens at this sportive book 
 May in their cups perchance with favour look, 
 And matrons hide it from their lords away— 
 Meaning to finish it some other day. 
 
 XVII 
 TO SABINUS 
 
 THouGH for convivial hours my verse be fit 
 Somewhat of sober thought doth lurk in it. 
 
 XVIII 
 LOVE OLS 
 
 You gave me an estate near town, you say : 
 My window-ledge provides a larger! Nay, 
 How can you dare to term it so to me? 
 
 One sprig of rue Diana’s grove must be, 
 
 A cricket’s leg could shade it over quite, 
 
 An ant despoil it in a single night, 
 
 The tiniest rose-leaf cover it, and rare 
 
 As Cosmus’ nard is any herbage there ; 
 
 A gherkin cannot lie at length ; though small 
 And tightly coiled a snake can cover all ; 
 
 A slug half-starved there is—the willow-bed 
 Nurtured a gnat—the famished brute is dead ; 
 A mole is ditcher—and he ploughs as well ; 
 There was a mushroom but it could not swell ; 
 The fig and violet, so cramped were they 
 
 As not to open to the light of day ; 
 
 A mouse is there, my bailiff dreads it more 
 Than if it were the Calydonian boar ; 
 
 342 
 
BOOK ELEVEN 
 
 When ripe the crop, fell Procne down may flit 
 And in her nest may garner all of it ; 
 
 If it escape her ravening claws and bill, 
 
 An empty snail-shell it may chance to fill ; 
 Priapus’ figure may not here abide, 
 
 Shorn of his staff, he could not get inside ; 
 Then for the wine, in place of cask or butt, 
 We store the vintage in a pitch-dressed nut ; 
 To call the place a field is quite absurd, 
 
 Take out or change two letters of the word, 
 Change L to E, omit the second letter, 
 
 And give me the result, ’twould suit me better. 
 
 PONG: 
 TO GALLA 
 
 You ask why I will not a learned wife take ? 
 Too often a ‘ mentulae lapsus’ I make. 
 
 XX 
 ieee OUn I SOD ET: 
 
 You carping knave who hate my frankness, note 
 These merry verses that Augustus wrote : 
 ‘Since Fulvia’s lord to Glycera transfers 
 His love, to me has Fulvia proffered hers ; 
 Must I be proxy then, or if he plead 
 Play Jove with Manius for a Ganymede. 
 “Tis love or war ’’, says Fulvia. Be it so 
 No hireling will I be. Blow, Trumpet, blow ! 
 So Caesar wrote—plain words and merry wit— 
 But when I follow, you object to it. 
 
 , 
 
 XXI 
 
 LypiA tam laxa est equitis quam culus aeni, 
 Quam celer arguto qui sonat aere trochus, 
 Quam rota transmisso totiens inpacta petauro, 
 
 Quam uetus a crassa calceus udus aqua, 
 Quam quae rara uagos expectant retia turdos, 
 Quam Pompeiano uela negata Noto. 
 
 343 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Quam quae de pthisico lapsa est armilla cinaedo, 
 Culcita Leuconico quam uiduata suo, 
 
 Quam ueteres bracae Brittonis pauperis, et quam 
 Turpe Rauennatis guttur onocrotali. 
 
 Hanc in piscina dicor futuisse marina. 
 Nescio ; piscinam me futuisse puto. 
 
 XXII 
 
 MOLLIA quod niuei duro teris ore Galaesi 
 Basia, quod nudo cum Ganymede iaces, 
 (Quis negat ?) hoc nimiumst. Sed sit satis ; inguina saltem 
 Parce fututrici sollicitare manu. 
 Leuibus in pueris plus haec quam mentula peccat 
 Et faciunt digiti praecipitantque uirum : 
 Inde tragus celeresque pili mirandaque matri 
 Barba, nec in clara balnea luce placent. 
 Diuisit natura marem : pars una puellis, 
 Una uiris genita est. Utere parte tua. 
 
 eee LU 
 THE UNWILLING BENEDICE 
 
 UPON any conditions Dame Sila wants me, 
 
 But upon no conditions her husband I'll be. 
 
 When she pressed me I said—‘ I require from my wife 
 Ten thousand as dowry, no less on my life. 
 
 Moreover we'll sleep in a separate room 
 
 And not e’en the first night to your bed shall I come. 
 You will not interfere when my girl I embrace, 
 
 And will send your own maid, if I ask, in your place. 
 At dinner on different sides we’ll recline, 
 
 And the fringe of your shawl must not hang down on mine. 
 One kiss in a month, and don’t ask for another ; 
 
 And then not as wife but as elderly mother. 
 
 So if to these conditions you now will agree— 
 
 You may get some one else for your husband, not me.’ 
 
 XXIV 
 LO AN EXACTING PATRON 
 
 WHILST I escort or see you home and hear 
 Your endless babble with a servile ear, 
 
 Praise everything you do, and laud your taste, 
 How many epigrams have gone to waste ! 
 
 344 
 
BOOK ELEVEN 
 
 Seems it a paltry thing to lose to-day 
 
 What Romans read and strangers far away ? 
 
 To knights and senators my lines appeal, 
 
 These lawyers love and poets often steal ; 
 
 And now much work has died still-born—’tis true 
 I swear, my worthy friend,—and all through you ; 
 Is this endurable, that to increase 
 
 Your crowd of clients, half my work must cease ? 
 
 Thus of my book a single page is done, 
 
 Although it is a month since ‘twas begun ; 
 
 Such is the penalty of bards at Rome— 
 
 They only do their work who dine at home. 
 
 XXV 
 
 ILLA salax nimium nec paucis nota puellis 
 Stare Lino desit mentula. Lingua, caue. 
 
 BGs VL 
 LOVE SSE RUITION 
 
 My pleasant solace, my delightful care, 
 
 Than whom no heart has ever been more dear, 
 O give me first a kiss with wine-stained lip 
 Before I take the cup wherefrom you sip ; 
 And then if you will love’s true joys bestow, 
 Not Jove himself surpasses me, I trow. 
 
 XXVIT 
 COmnEACGUS 
 
 A MAN of adamant you surely are 
 
 To love a dame who loves stale vinegar, 
 
 A dame whose palate whelks and tripe enchant, 
 Who thinks bananas too extravagant, 
 
 Whose maid brings in (rare trove !) a common pot 
 Of spoiled sardines to eat before they rot ; 
 
 Grown lowish now and not afraid to shock 
 
 She begs for flannelette to make a frock ; 
 
 My dame will ask for attar, precious stuff, 
 
 ‘Worth’ for her frocks is hardly good enough ; 
 
 345 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Fine graded pearls and emeralds I must find. 
 And gold is copper to her generous mind. 
 
 Is any mistress worth the cost ? Oh no— 
 And yet she ought to think I think her so. 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 INUASIT medici Nasica phreneticus Eucti 
 Et percidit Hylan. Hic, puto, sanus erat. 
 
 XXIX 
 TORED aes 
 
 TRYING to fan his passion into flame, 
 
 You ancient dame, you choke a languid lover ; 
 And when you call him many a pretty name, 
 
 It takes him simply ages to recover. 
 
 That’s not the way—such blandishments abjure— 
 Offer him gold, a cellar, wine to fill it, 
 
 Slaves, houses, gorgeous plate, and furniture, 
 These may warm passion, your caresses chill it. 
 
 XXX 
 
 Os male causidicis et dicis olere poetis. 
 Sed fellatori, Zoile, peius olet. 
 
 XXXI 
 GOURDS 
 
 THOUGH Atreus, so the fable runs, 
 
 Sliced up and cooked Thyestes’ sons, 
 Caecilius with humaner mind 
 
 Plays Atreus with the pumpkin kind ; 
 Hors d’oeuvres of gourd are offered you 
 And gourd for courses one and two— 
 Then comes a change ? Oh no, you'll see 
 Some sort of gourd for number three ; 
 
 346 
 
BOOK ELEVEN 
 
 Next for dessert—you then may take 
 Compote of gourd and pumpkin cake, 
 Insipid it must be confessed, 
 
 Although the cook has done his best 
 With pumpkin puffs and dates like those 
 So popular in all the shows ; 
 
 Then the mixed dishes, to one’s view 
 Lentil or beans, are pumpkin too. 
 Mock mushrooms and mock tunny fin, 
 Mock rissoles, mock sardines—within 
 Are merely pumpkin pulp, and though 
 All flavourings the cook doth know, 
 Not rue nor any sauce can hide 
 
 The fact that they are gourd inside ; 
 Each dish, the greatest like the least, 
 Is pumpkin! This he calls a feast, 
 Because he gives you courses many 
 Which altogether cost one penny. 
 
 XXXIT 
 
 TO NESTOR 
 
 No coat or bed, however foul, you own, 
 
 No mat of reeds, although a cheap and hard one, 
 No slave or young or old, no child or crone, 
 
 No cup, no bolt, no door, no dog, to guard one. 
 
 Yet you pretend—an idle stratagem— 
 
 That you are poor, ah, vain, self-flattering fancy ! 
 Many are poor ; you cannot rank with them, 
 
 Yours is not poverty but mendicancy. 
 
 XXXII 
 THE GREEN CHARIOT 
 
 How oft the green hath won! ‘Aye’, envy saith, 
 “ By Nero’s favour were the rest undone ’. 
 Doth Nero’s favour then outlive his death ? 
 For since he died more palms the green hath won ! 
 
 347 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 XXXIV 
 A GOOD NEIGHBOUR 
 
 APER has bought a ruin foul 
 Too grimy for the moping owl, 
 A cunning rogue is he ; 
 Hard by doth wealthy Maro dwell, 
 So Aper looks to board right well, 
 Though vile his lodging be. 
 
 XXXV 
 LOVFABUCULLUS 
 
 OF all the guests you ask to dine 
 
 I know not one, so I decline ; 
 
 Why should you grumble? ’Tis not rude 
 To hate a crowded solitude. 
 
 XXXVI 
 LO. [OLTOS RROCI Ss 
 
 JULIUS, a pearl should mark the day whereon 
 Heaven gave you life in answer to my prayer ; 
 Now joy is deeper for the dread that’s gone, 
 Less glad are they who never knew despair ; 
 Hypnus, you sluggard, pour a vintage rare, 
 This festal day my oldest cask may claim, 
 And I would quaff and you, my slave, shall share 
 A draught to every letter of his name. 
 
 XXXVIT 
 FRTPERSSOR COLE 
 
 Wry gird a jewel with a pound of gold ? 
 Poor Sardonyx, ’tis smothered I declare ! 
 Nay, Zoilus, a finger cannot bear 
 
 The weight you bore upon your leg of old. 
 
 348 
 
BOOK ELEVEN 
 XXXVITI 
 HIS CONFIDANT 
 
 HE bought a slave to drive his mule 
 And paid a thousand—what a fool ! 
 The slave is deaf—all hearing gone— 
 The buyer was a Solomon ! 
 
 XXXIX 
 PROM SOLU LO TOR 
 
 You rocked my cradle, were my boyhood’s guide, 
 And faithful comrade ever at my side ; 
 And now my beard makes black the shaving-cloth 
 And these my bristles rouse my lady’s wrath, 
 You think me still the child you used to chide, 
 My bailiff trembles, pale and terrified, 
 My roof, too, quakes when your reproof goes forth, 
 I’m only free to do what you decide. 
 
 So if I game or flirt, you mourn your woes ; 
 I use some scent, you scarce refrain from blows, 
 For that my father never used to do ; 
 So if I wear a cloak of Tyrian hue 
 Or drink a draught of wine, one might suppose 
 You had to pay. Bring grumbling to a close, 
 I hate a freedman who’s a Cato too. 
 AmJamanyouask? My lady knows. 
 
 eee 
 Ho AUeCALAM LEY 
 
 LUPERCUS is beautiful Glycera’s lover, 
 
 But for a whole month not one kiss he’s had of her, 
 His passionate ardour to slake. 
 
 He goes about town in most sorrowful guise, 
 
 And to friendly inquirers he sadly replies— 
 ‘I’m afraid that she has a toothache ’. 
 
 349 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 aay SG Bi 
 THE CAREFUL SWINEHERD 
 
 YounG Amyntas considered his pigs extra fine, 
 
 And was rather too anxious to pamper the swine, 
 Till one day while shaking down acorns beneath 
 
 He fell from the branches and so met his death. 
 
 His father condemned the fell tree to the fire 
 
 And burned all its wood on the funeral pyre. 
 
 Let my neighbours insist that their pigs fattened be, 
 If my man counts the herd, that’s sufficient for me. 
 
 ALIT 
 LO CAECITIANGS 
 
 You ask for lively epigrams, but give 
 
 Themes dull and dead—no art could make them live. 
 If Attic bees were fed upon a field 
 
 Of bitter herbs, what honey would they yield ? 
 
 PUTT 
 
 DEPRENSUM in puero tetricis me uocibus, uxor, 
 Corripis et culum te quoque habere refers. 
 Dixit idem quotiens lasciuo Iuno Tonanti! 
 Ille tamen grandi cum Ganymede iacet. 
 Incuruabat Hylan posito Tirynthius arcu : 
 Tu Megaran credis non habuisse natis ? 
 Torquebat Phoebum Daphne fugitiua : sed illas 
 Oebalius flammas iussit abire puer. 
 Briseis multum quamuis auersa iaceret, 
 Aeacidae propior leuis amicus erat. 
 Parce tuis igitur dare mascula nomina rebus 
 Teque puta cunnos, uxor, habere duos. 
 
 XLIV 
 LEGACY-HUNTERS 
 
 CHILDLESS and rich and of an age untold, 
 
 Can these new friends be true as were the old 
 
 When you were young ere wealth had come to you ? 
 Nay, ’tis your will that’s courted by the new. 
 
 350 
 
BOOK ELEVEN 
 aLV 
 
 INTRASTI quotiens inscriptae limina cellae, 
 Seu puer adrisit siue puella tibi, 
 
 Contentus non es foribus ueloque seraque, 
 Secretumque iubes grandius esse tibi: 
 
 Oblinitur minimae si qua est suspicio rimae 
 Punctaque lasciua quae terebrantur acu. 
 
 Nemo est tam teneri tam sollicitique pudoris 
 Qui uel pedicat, Canthare, uel futuit. 
 
 XLVI 
 
 [AM nisi per somnum non arrigis et tibi, Maeui, 
 Incipit in medios meiere uerpa pedes, 
 
 Truditur et digitis pannucea mentula lassis 
 Nec leuat extinctum sollicitata caput. 
 
 Quid miseros frustra cunnos culosque lacessis ? 
 Summa petas: illic mentula uiuit anus. 
 
 XLVII 
 
 Omni femineis quare dilecta cateruis 
 Balnea deuitat-Lattara ? Ne futuat. 
 Cur nec Pompeia lentus spatiatur in umbra 
 Nec petit Inachidos limina? Ne futuat. 
 Cur Lacedaemonio luteum ceromate corpus 
 Perfundit gelida Virgine ?Ne futuat. 
 Cum sic feminei generis contagia uitet, 
 Cur lingit cunnum Lattara? Ne futuat. 
 
 feo LV IIT 
 
 ON A MONUMENT ERECTED BY SILIUS AT 
 VIRGIL’S GRAVE 
 
 To Virgil’s tomb this honour Silius pays, 
 
 Who holds the lands where Cicero spent his days. 
 As heir and owner of his home and grave 
 
 None other Tully or Maro would have. 
 
 351 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 a adily.< 
 ON TRE SAME 
 
 ONE humble hind remained the rites to pay 
 To Maro’s ashes where alone they lay : 
 Silius resolved to help the abandoned shade 
 And now his brother-poet comes to aid. 
 
 LF. 
 WOMEN’S TRICKS 
 
 PHYLLIS, you rob me every day, 
 It is my foolish love that lets you, 
 The cunning, too, that you display, 
 Wherein your lying maid abets you ! 
 
 She hints of ring or mirror lost, 
 
 Of scent all gone, or missing jewel, 
 Or smuggled silk at trifling cost, 
 
 To miss so rare a chance were cruel ! 
 
 You need a cask of wine—the best 
 
 To help some witch’s charm (or gullet ?), 
 Or else an unexpected guest 
 
 Has come and you want pike or mullet. 
 
 I pray you, Phyllis, show some small 
 Regard for truth, and frankly use me, 
 
 Remembering, if I give my all, 
 Whate’er I ask you can’t refuse me. 
 
 wal 
 
 TANTA est quae Titio columna pendet 
 Quantam Lampsaciae colunt puellae. 
 Hic nullo comitante nec molesto 
 Thermis grandibus et suis lauatur, 
 Anguste Titius tamen lauatur. 
 
 352 
 
BOOK ELEVEN 
 
 LIl 
 PULLS Gh RTA LS 
 
 ComE, Julius, share a pleasant meal with me, 
 If you should have no better occupation, 
 (We'll bathe together—keep the eighth hour free, 
 You know the bath adjoins my habitation), 
 Sliced leeks and wholesome lettuce there will be, 
 And tunny fry in happy combination 
 With rue and sauce of egg—I like it well 
 When rather larger than a mackerel. 
 
 Eggs also, poached upon a slack-wood fire, 
 Picenian olives touched by frost but lightly, 
 These first. Shall I tell more ?—in my desire 
 To bring you, pardon my romancing slightly ; 
 My fish, birds, game, a gourmet might inspire, 
 A Stella’s table does not see them nightly ; 
 No verse I’ll read but you shall give me all 
 Your epic and Virgilian pastoral. 
 
 Lill 
 ON CLAGCDIA URUPINA 
 
 THOUGH from the painted Britons Claudia came, 
 Her noble soul befits the Roman race, 
 
 Her kinship dames of Italy might claim, 
 Greeks laud her beauty ; and by heaven’s grace 
 Offspring she hath ; so ere her lovely face 
 
 Hath lost its youth, they too shall wed, and she 
 Loving her lord, in him shall ever place 
 
 Her trust, rejoicing in her children three. 
 
 LIV 
 EOMZOLECS 
 
 You snatched that half-burned incense from the fire, 
 Stole cinnamon and nard from bier and pyre, 
 
 Your myrrh and cassia have tainted breath. 
 
 Restore, polluted knave, your spoils to Death ; 
 
 Small wonder that your hands have learned to cheat ; 
 Slave, runaway, they learned it from your feet. 
 
 JO Zs 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 LV 
 TOBA Y POCKIIi 
 
 HE hopes that you may have a son, he says ; 
 A silly lie, there’s naught he wishes less ; 
 This is the fortune-hunter’s trick—he prays 
 For what, if granted, would his soul distress ; 
 Just watch the rascal blench if you profess 
 That your Cosconia expects an heir ; 
 And let your will suggest that all success 
 (How he will rave !) attended on his prayer. 
 
 AAI EATAL 
 THE* POOR PHILOSOPHE: 
 
 You want me, Chaeremon, your courage to praise 
 Because you'ld be glad of an end to your days. 
 
 "Tis your poor broken pitchers this virtue create, 
 
 Your bugs, and thin blankets, and fireless grate, 
 
 Your bare truckle bedstead, and short scanty gown ~ 
 Which is worn all the day and at night on you thrown. 
 You must be a marvellous hero indeed 
 
 To give up your vinegar and straw and black bread. 
 
 Come, suppose that your pillow is stuffed with soft wool, 
 And that over your couch close-clipped purple you pull, 
 While you have by your side the fair page who at dinner 
 Made each of your guests in his fancy a sinner. 
 
 How then would you wish to be Nestor thrice over, 
 
 And reasons for living each fresh day discover ! 
 
 It’s easy in trouble this world to despise ; 
 
 The brave man is he who endures miseries. 
 
 LVII 
 INV 9 ONS Ot Kd Bie 
 
 Do not wonder if I send 
 
 Rhyme to greet a poet friend 
 
 Who in learning doth transcend 
 All I know. 
 
 354 
 
BOOK ELEVEN 
 
 As we offer at his shrine, 
 
 Who is fed on food divine, 
 
 Common meats and earthly wine, 
 Even so 
 
 I may send it, may I not ? 
 
 Though I cannot add a jot 
 
 To the blessings you had got 
 Long ago. 
 
 LVIII 
 
 Cum me uelle uides tentumque, Telesphore, sentis, 
 Magna rogas: puta me uelle negare : licet ? 
 
 Et nisi iuratus dixi ‘ Dabo ’, subtrahis illas, 
 Permittunt in me quae tibi multa, natis. 
 
 Quid si me tonsor, cum stricta nouacula supra est, 
 Tunc libertatem diuitiasque roget ? 
 
 Promittam ; neque enim rogat illo tempore tonsor, 
 Latro rogat ; res est inperiosa timor : 
 
 Sed fuerit curua cum tuta nouacula theca, 
 Frangam tonsori crura manusque simul. 
 
 At tibi nil faciam, sed lota mentula laeua 
 Aatkafery cupidae dicet auaritiae. 
 
 Seen. 
 THE IMPECUNIOUS DANDY 
 
 SIX rings on each finger young Algernon wears, 
 
 And keeps them all on in his bath, it appears, 
 
 And when he is lying asleep of a night. 
 
 “The reason? He has not aring-case’? That’s right. 
 
 LX 
 
 S1T Phlogis an Chione Veneri magis apta requiris ? 
 Pulchrior est Chione ; sed Phlogis ulcus habet, 
 
 Ulcus habet Priami quod tendere possit alutam 
 Quodque senem Pelian non sinat esse senem ; 
 
 Ulcus habet quod habere suam uult quisque puellam, 
 Quod sanare Criton, non quod Hygia potest. 
 
 At Chione non sentit opus nec uocibus ullis 
 Adiuuat, absentem marmoreamue putes. 
 
 Exorare, dei, si uos tam magna liceret 
 Et bona uelletis tam pretiosa dare, 
 
 Hoc quod habet Chione corpus faceretis haberet 
 Ut Phlogis, et Chione quod Phlogis ulcus habet. 
 
 355 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 LXI 
 
 LINGUA maritus, moechus ore Nanneius, 
 Summemmianis inquinatior buccis ; 
 
 Quem cum fenestra uidit a Suburana 
 Obscena nudum Leda, fornicem cludit 
 Mediumque mauult basiare quam summum ; 
 Modo qui per omnes wiscerum tubos ibat 
 
 Et uoce certa consciaque dicebat 
 
 Puer an puella matris esset in uentre, 
 (Gaudete cunni; uestra namque res acta est) 
 Arrigere linguam non potest fututricem. 
 Nam dum tumenti mersus haeret in uolua 
 Et uagientes intus audit infantes, 
 
 Partem gulosam soluit indecens morbus. 
 Nec purus esse nunc potest nec inpurus. 
 
 LXII 
 BOUGHT PLEASURES 
 
 SHE never gives herself for love ? No doubt. 
 She has to buy her loves or do without ! 
 
 LXIII 
 
 SPECTAS nos Philomuse cum lauamur, 
 Et quare tibi tam mutuniati 
 
 Sint leves pueri subinde quaeris. 
 Dicam simpliciter tibi roganti : 
 Pedicant, Philomuse, curiosos. 
 
 LXIV 
 POR 
 
 I KNow not what you write to girls, and yet— 
 I know the answer that you never get. 
 
 356. 
 
BOOK ELEVEN 
 Da" 
 TO JUSTINUS 
 
 To-DAyY your birthday board to grace 
 You ask a horde of guests to dine. 
 In other years an honoured place— 
 And none disputed it—was mine ; 
 You bid me come to-morrow? Nay, 
 Let ‘ friends,’ with whom I am not classed, 
 Observe the feast, but must I pay 
 With presents for a feast that’s past ? 
 
 * LXVI 
 TO VACERRA 
 
 INFORMER, libel-monger, cut-throat, knave, 
 Pander, to every loathsome vice a slave, 
 Vacerra, it is marvellous that you 
 
 With these resources are a pauper too. 
 
 ED A 
 TO MARO 
 
 NAUGHT will you give me while you live ; 
 You'll leave your wealth to me ? 
 
 Then if you're sane, it must be plain 
 What my desire will be. 
 
 LXVIII 
 LOYVMATHO 
 
 THE great refuse you little loans? Then press 
 For great ones, so refusal shames one less. 
 
 any 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 LXIX 
 ON A DOG’S GRAVE 
 
 TRAINED in the amphitheatre and found 
 Ruthless in chase and yet a gentle hound, 
 Lydia my name ; my lord had chosen me 
 Before thy loyal friend, Erigone ; 
 
 Or him who, following Cephalus afar 
 
 From: Dicte’s land, became with him a star, 
 The faithful hound that loved Dulichium’s lord 
 Was numbed, of lagging years, and age abhorred ; 
 The flashing tushes of a slavering boar, 
 
 Huge as the brute in Calydon of yore, 
 
 Thrust me in youth to death. Shall I repine ? 
 Nay for a nobler fate could not be mine. 
 
 il FP. @,€ 
 LOELUGCA 
 
 How can you endure to sell your poor boys ; 
 
 Each cost you a thousand, these delicate toys. 
 
 Do not their caresses your stubborn heart move, 
 
 Their artless complaints, and the signs of their love. 
 
 If you want ready money, there's land you can sell, 
 Your house and your plate, cups and tables as well, 
 
 Old slaves of your father’s—I’m sure they won't mind— 
 Nothing matters as long as the boys stay behind. 
 
 It was reckless to buy them—that none will deny— 
 But to sell them would recklessness greater imply. 
 
 
 
 DANI 
 
 HyYSTERICAM uetulo se dixerat esse marito 
 Et queritur futui Leda necesse sibi ; 
 
 Sed flens atque gemens tanti negat esse salutem 
 Seque refert potius proposuisse mori. 
 
 Uir rogat ut uiuat, uirides nec deserat annos, 
 Et fieri quod iam non facit ipse sinit. 
 
 Protinus accedunt medici medicaeque recedunt, 
 Tollunturque pedes. O medicina grauis ! 
 
 358 
 
BOOK ELEVEN 
 LXXII 
 
 Drauci Natta sui uocat pipinnam, 
 Conlatus cui Gallus est Priapus. 
 
 y Le OG ag 
 LOSEY GOGS 
 
 How often you've promised that to me you'ld come, 
 And fixed both the time and the place ; 
 While I, all impatience, have waited at home, 
 And ne'er got a glimpse of your face. 
 What curse shall I ask on your shoulders be laid ? 
 May you carry a one-eyed old lady’s sunshade ! 
 
 LXXIV 
 
 CURANDUM penem commisit Baccara Raetus 
 Riuali medico. Baccara Gallus erit. 
 
 LXXV 
 
 THECA tectus ahenea lauatur 
 
 Tecum, Caelia, seruus ; ut quid, oro, 
 Non sit cum citharoedus aut choraules ? 
 Non uis, ut puto, mentulam uidere. 
 Quare cum populo lauaris ergo ? 
 
 Omnes an tibi nos sumus spadones ? 
 Ergo, ne uidearis inuidere, 
 
 Seruo, Caelia, fibulam remitte. 
 
 LXXVI 
 A RICH CREDITOR 
 
 You dun me for ten pounds I owe, and on the petty grounds 
 
 That some one else has failed, and so you lose two hundred 
 pounds, 
 
 But why exact from me the dues unpaid by other men ? 
 
 For if two hundred you can lose, why, you can lose the ten. 
 
 359 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 LXXVII 
 
 InN omnibus Vacerra quod conclauibus 
 Consumit horas et die toto sedet, 
 Cenaturit Vacerra, non cacaturit. 
 
 LXXVIII 
 
 VTERE femineis conplexibus, utere, Victor, 
 Ignotumque sibi mentula discat opus. 
 
 Flammea texuntur sponsae, iam uirgo paratur, 
 Tondebit pueros 1am nous nupta tuos. 
 
 Pedicare semel cupido dabit illa marito, 
 Dum metuit teli uulnera prima noul: 
 
 Saepius hoc fieri nutrix materque uetabunt 
 Et dicent : ‘ Vxor, non puer, ista tibi est ’. 
 
 Heu quantos aestus, quantos patiere labores, 
 Si fuerit cunnus res peregrina tibi ! 
 
 Ergo Suburanae tironem trade magistrae. 
 Illa uirum faciet ; non bene uirgo docet. 
 
 LXXIX 
 PEVATIORV ES ye 
 
 *TWAS evening ere I got a mile from town, 
 Yet I am not the sluggard that you thought me. 
 To your account the fault is written down ; 
 Remember, Paetus, ’twas your mules that brought me ! 
 
 1ED.O.O.4 
 THE CHAKMS (OF VBA rae 
 
 BAIAE is happy Venus’ golden shore, 
 
 Nature’s alluring gift, her joy and pride, 
 And, though a thousand verses I should pour, 
 
 Yet must I leave her beauty half-belied. 
 
 Is Julius there? Nay, Fortune should deride 
 My greed if I should pray to meet him there ; 
 
 And yet might heaven that double boon provide 
 Julius and Baiae—what a joy it were ! 
 
 360 
 
BOOK ELEVEN 
 LXXXI 
 
 CUM sene communem uexat spado Dindymus Aeglen 
 Et iacet in medio sicca puella toro. 
 
 Uiribus hic, operi non est hic utilis annis : 
 Ergo sine effectu prurit utrique labor. 
 
 Supplex illa rogat pro se miserisque duobus, 
 
 Hunc iuuenem facias, hunc, Cytherea, uirum. 
 
 yd ba, OI 
 THE WINE-BIBBER 
 
 A GUEST, going home to his lodging at night, 
 
 Had near Sinuessa an unpleasant fright, 
 
 For hurrying down a long stairway he fell, 
 
 And all but joined hapless Elpenor in hell. 
 
 He would never have fallen, ye Nymphs of the shrine, 
 If he’d kept to your water and kept off the wine. 
 
 LAXAITI 
 BRAVING I GUESTS 
 
 TuHE childless rich—and only they— 
 For nothing may with Andrew stay— 
 But, when he pockets large bequests, 
 We see they’re really paying guests. 
 
 LXXXIV 
 
 THE BARBER 
 
 You would not feel [xion’s wheel or change with Sisyphus ? 
 Oh then, beware the barber’s chair of dread Antiochus ! 
 
 The frenzied crowd may cry aloud with howls delirious ; 
 Their arms they slash—your deadly gash is worse, Antiochus. 
 One may endure a surgeon’s ‘ cure ’ in fashion valorous, 
 
 Or broken bone without a groan—but not Antiochus. 
 ’Twould take the crew of cynics who are most necessitous, 
 Or else a horse, whose mane is coarse, to bear Antiochus. 
 Though vultures tear Prometheus there upon the Caucasus, 
 
 361 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 A ravening bird would be preferred to you, Antiochus. 
 
 Pentheus would flee to Agavé, that mother infamous, 
 
 Or Orpheus face the Maenad race—but not Antiochus. 
 
 I’ve lost the skin from cheek and chin, the cause would you 
 discuss ? 
 
 It was not strife or frenzied wife—it was Antiochus ! 
 
 Old pugilists from other’s fists are oft disfigured thus ; 
 
 But I am marred and mauled and scarred all by Antiochus. 
 
 The goat alone hath wisdom shown, more sensible than us, 
 
 He grew a beard because he feared to meet Antiochus ! 
 
 LXXXV 
 
 SIDERE percussa est subito tibi, Zoile, lingua, 
 Dum lingis. Certe, Zoile, nunc futuis. 
 
 LXXXVI 
 THE GREEDY PATIENT 
 
 To heal your throat and give your cough relief 
 The doctor put you on a pleasant diet, 
 Sweet kernels, honey, cakes—the things, in brief, 
 We give to noisy boys to keep them quiet. 
 That cough goes on—the treatment seems no use for it— 
 ‘Tis greed, my friend, and coughing the excuse of it ! 
 
 LXXXVII 
 
 DIUEs erat quondam : sed tunc pedico fuisti 
 Et tibi nulla diu femina nota fuit. 
 
 Nunc sectaris anus. O quantum cogit egestas ! 
 Illa fututorem te, Charideme, facit. 
 
 LXXXVIII 
 
 MULTIsS iam, Lupe, posse se diebus 
 Pedicare negat Charisianus. 
 
 Causam cum modo quaererent sodales, 
 Uentrem dixit habere se solutum. 
 
 362 
 
BOOK ELEVEN 
 * LXXXIX 
 Om eel 
 
 Way give me garlands that you’ve never fingered ? 
 Send rather roses where your hands have lingered. 
 
 XC 
 HOSGHKES LIEEGS 
 
 SMOOTH verse you hate, but love the kind 
 That tumbles over crags linguistic ; 
 Milton is weaker to your mind 
 Than any babbler archaistic. 
 
 You set up rugged word and phrase 
 For imitation—’twould not hurt you 
 
 If, like the ancients whom you praise, 
 You too adopted rugged virtue. 
 
 7eXCl 
 ON THE TOMB OF A CHILD WHO DIED.OF CANCER 
 
 Poor Canacé lies buried in this tomb, 
 
 A child whose seventh winter scarce had come. 
 
 O shame, O monstrous crime! Yet, stranger, hear ; 
 Tis not for life cut short we shed this tear. 
 
 Than death itself more cruel was death’s guise, 
 The cancerous growth that spread before our eyes 
 And did at last so eat her lips away 
 
 That half-consumed upon the pyre they lay. 
 
 If ’twere decreed that death should come so soon, 
 Some other way the fell deed had been done. 
 
 But lest her plaintive cries the gods should reach 
 Fate closed the channel of her baby speech. 
 
 XCII 
 THE EPITOME 
 
 HE said you were a vicious man? He lied: 
 You're not a man, you're vice personified. 
 
 363 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 XCIII 
 THE’ GODS’ MISTAKE 
 
 A POET’S house consumed by fire ! 
 
 Phoebus and ye, the heavenly choir, 
 
 What vengeance will ye now require 
 For such a fell disaster ? 
 
 How foul a deed, how black a shame ! 
 Can men acquit the gods of blame 
 When they delivered to the flame 
 
 The house and not its master ? 
 
 RACINE 
 TO AN ENVIOUS JEW RIVAL 
 
 OF course you envy all I write or do, 
 
 But that is pardonable in a Jew; 
 
 You steal the verse you sneer about ; this too 
 
 Is naught and shows some wisdom for a Jew. 
 But now you dare my loved one to pursue, 
 
 Must I endure that insult from a Jew? 
 
 You swear by Jove you do not? That’s untrue: 
 Swear by your Syrian gods, you perjured Jew! 
 
 XCV 
 
 INCIDERIS quotiens in basia fellatorum, 
 In solium puta te mergere, Flacce, caput. 
 
 XCVI 
 
 ON A GERMAN WHO DROVE A ROMAN BOY 
 FROM THE MARCIAN AQUEDUCT 
 
 Tuis is the Marcian stream ; afar 
 Doth flow your native Rhine ; 
 Yet from the fount you dare debar 
 
 One of the victor’s line ! 
 
 364 
 
BOOK ELEVEN 
 
 His is the free, the conquering race, 
 And, slave, although you thirst, 
 
 Our Roman pool should it abase 
 To serve a German first. 
 
 XCVII 
 
 VNA nocte quater possum : sed quattuor annis 
 Si possum, peream, te, Telesilla, semel. 
 
 XCVIIT 
 BEER ONDESALUT E 
 
 THERE’S no chance to escape from the kissers of Rome, 
 They meet you and cross you and follow you home, 
 They will hurry in hundreds from every place, 
 
 No salve-besmeared lips and no pimple-decked face, 
 Sore cheek or raw chin, will preserve you from those, 
 Though an icicle click at the end of your nose. 
 
 Be it cold, be it hot, or whatever betide, 
 
 They will steal the best kiss you had kept for your bride ; 
 You can wrap up your head in a hood of stout leather, 
 Or curtain your litter—that fails altogether ; 
 
 Through smallest of crevices kissers can crawl. 
 
 Will the dignified consul escape? Not at all. 
 
 No, the tribune and he, though the lictors resist 
 
 With rod and with voice, will be certainly kissed ; 
 
 If you sit in the lofty tribunal and there 
 
 You administer law in the emperor’s chair, 
 
 You may think, it may be, that you're safe for the time— 
 But no ; to that altitude kissers can climb. 
 
 Nor is fever—or mourning—a valid excuse ; 
 
 You can swim out to sea, but you'll find it no use ; 
 
 Is there then no escape? Yes, one chance may exist : 
 Make friends with the kissers—you'll cease to be kissed. 
 
 XCIX 
 
 DE cathedra quotiens surgis (iam saepe notaui), 
 Pedicant miserae, Lesbia, te tunicae. 
 
 Quas cum conata es dextra, conata sinistra 
 Uellere, cum lacrimis eximis et gemitu : 
 
 Sic constringuntur magni Symplegade culi 
 Et nimias intrant Cyaneasque natis. 
 
 Emendare cupis uitium deforme ? Docebo: 
 Lesbia, nec surgas censeo nec sedeas. 
 
 305 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 C 
 THE HAPPY MEAN 
 
 FLACCUS, no scraggy maid for me 
 
 To whom a finger-ring would be 
 
 A bracelet, one whose hip and knee 
 Might prick like any pin. 
 
 A jagged saw-like spine I shun, 
 
 And yet I do not like a ton 
 
 Of solid blubber, give me one 
 Who’s neither fat nor thin. 
 
 “ad OL 
 LOB TAGC tS 
 
 JANE is so thin that if, as you declare, 
 You see her, you can see what is not there. 
 
 Cul 
 RO) EV GbIL,| 
 
 THEY told me you were lovely—yes, 
 The word is true, the judgment just, 
 While you are silent, motionless 
 As pictured form or waxen bust ; 
 Your speech turns love to sheer disgust, 
 Your face it mars, your charm it balks ; 
 Beware the aedile, all mistrust 
 The omen if a statue talks. 
 
 AOSHI 
 TO SAFRONIUS 
 So modest are you both in looks and life, 
 
 I wonder how you ever knew your wife. 
 
 366 
 
BOOK ELEVEN 
 GLY, 
 
 Vxor, uade foras aut moribus utere nostris : 
 Non sum ego nec Curius nec Numa nec Tatius. 
 
 Me iucunda iuuant tractae per pocula noctes : 
 Tu properas pota surgere tristis aqua. 
 
 Tu tenebris gaudes: me ludere teste lucerna 
 Et iuuat admissa rumpere luce latus. 
 
 Fascia te tunicaeque obscuraque pallia celant : 
 At mihi nulla satis nuda puella iacet. 
 
 Basia me capiunt blandas imitata columbas : 
 Tu mihi das auiae qualia mane soles. 
 
 Nec motu dignaris opus nec uoce iuuare 
 Nec digitis, tamquam tura merumque pares: 
 
 Masturbabantur Phrygii post ostia serui, 
 Hectoreo quotiens sederat uxor equo, 
 
 Et quamuis Ithaco stertente pudica solebat 
 Illic Penelope semper habere manum. 
 
 Pedicare negas: dabat hoc Cornelia Graccho, 
 Iulia Pompeio, Porcia, Brute, tibi ; 
 
 Dulcia Dardanio nondum miscente ministro 
 Pocula, Iuno fuit pro Ganymede Ioui. 
 
 Si te delectat grauitas, Lucretia toto 
 Sis licet usque die ; Laida nocte uolo. 
 
 FE CN. 
 DOeGARKICUS 
 
 Your present last year weighed exactly a pound, 
 But I see it’s a quarter to-day : 
 
 Your system of reckoning’s very unsound ; 
 At least, sir, a half you should pay. 
 
 CVI 
 Oe bist Suave aay PVE US 
 
 IF you have leisure, glance at this quatrain ; 
 You busy men shirk labour when you can, 
 
 So skip the rest and I shall not complain ; 
 You skip this too? That zs the wiser plan. 
 
 367 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 CVII 
 TITMROR As 
 
 You brought me back my book, read through I know, 
 *Twas all unrolled ; the evidence assures 
 
 My mind and I believe it : aye, just so, 
 ‘TI lost no time in reading five of yours ’ ! 
 
 CVIII 
 
 AL AINE 
 
 THOUGH so lengthy a book should your taste satisfy, 
 You have asked me for more: but my household will cry 
 For some food, and the usurer’s drained me quite dry ; 
 So reader . . . you see what I mean to imply ? 
 
 You are silent and don’t understand me? Good bye! 
 
 368 
 
BOOK TWELVE 
 

 
BOOK TWELVE 
 PREFACE 
 
 VALERIUS MARTIALIS to his friend PRISCUS 
 GREETING 
 
 I am aware that I owe you some sort of defence against a charge 
 of most obstinate indolence persisting for three years, an indolence 
 which could not be condoned even in one immersed in the engage- 
 ments of city life, in which we more easily succeed in being a 
 nuisance to our friends than an assistance to them. Still less 
 is 1 excusable when one lives in this provincial desolation in 
 which, unless a man spend his time in actually excessive study, 
 he has no consolation nor any excuse for having run away from 
 Rome.—Hear then my verses, wherein the chief and primary 
 point is that I miss that cultured city audience to which I was 
 accustomed, and feel as though I were conducting a lawsuit in 
 a foreign court: for if there be anything pleasing in my books 
 it 1s my hearers who put it there. 
 
 That critical delicacy, that inspiration drawn from one’s 
 surroundings, the libraries, theatres, and associations with men 
 wherein pleasure learns without feeling that it is learning, those 
 things, in a word, which I left in a mood of fastidiousness, I 
 long for now, as though I were deserted. Besides this, there is 
 the backbiting, typical of provincials ; the envy that takes the 
 place of balanced judgment ; and the fact that, in a paltry little 
 place like this, one or two malicious persons are as bad as a host 
 elsewhere.—In the face of this, it 1s not easy always to maintain 
 good-humour ; you need not wonder, therefore, that I abandon in 
 disgust occupations which I used to follow with relish. But now 
 you are coming from Rome and you ask me for my work, and 
 that I might not meet you with a refusal—although, in giving 
 you all I can, I am by no means clearing my debt of gratitude 
 to you—I laid upon myself as a duty the task I used to perform 
 as a pleasure, and devoted just a few days to it, so that I might 
 spread, as it were, a welcoming banquet before your ears which 
 ave always so very friendly to me. I only desire for these 
 verses, which with you alone run no risk of disapproval, that 
 you weigh ther merits carefully and examine them without 
 veluctance—also (though this 1s very difficult in your case) that 
 in dealing with my irifles you will put aside all the glamour of 
 friendship, lest I should send to Rome—that 1s 1f you decide that 
 I ought to send—a book that not only comes from the provinces, 
 but is utterly provincial, 
 
 371 
 

 
BOOK TWELVE 
 
 I 
 AN IDLE HOUR 
 
 WHEN you hear no music from baying hound, 
 
 When the woods are still and no boar is found, 
 And the nets afford no sport, 
 
 Let my little book have an hour with you, 
 
 For in less than that can you read it through, 
 Though a winter hour be short. 
 
 “fA 
 PUSH SOO k 
 
 YE verses that to Pyrgi once would go, 
 Follow the Sacred Way not dusty now. 
 
 il 
 BACK TO ROME 
 
 FRoM Rome of old to many a foreign land 
 
 You went, my little book, but now set forth to Rome. 
 From Salo’s bank and Tagus’ golden strand 
 
 The native stream of mine ancestral home. 
 
 Not wholly strange nor all unknown are you, 
 For Remus’ lofty town knows well your kin ; 
 Seek as of right the fane now built anew, 
 Is not the Muses’ shrine restored therein ? 
 
 Or if to Stella’s dwelling you would fare, 
 Seek the Subura where it climbs the hill ; 
 
 My consul has his bay-decked dwelling there 
 And quaffs the waters of Ianthe’s rill, 
 
 A lordly fountain cool and glassy clear— 
 The holy nine oft drink there, so ’tis said— 
 Through him your verse the citizens shall hear. 
 By knights and senators shall you be read. 
 
 373 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 1 We 
 TO PRISCUS TERENTIOS 
 
 A SIMPLE knight, but one of kingly line, 
 To Horace, Varius, and the mighty seer, 
 Was help and stay of old: and you are mine, 
 As in the years long hence the world shall hear, 
 For fame shall tell it and my ageing page ; 
 Through you my inspiration came to me, 
 And power—if power |] have—and in my age 
 Such days of leisure as befit the free. 
 
 Vv 
 
 TO THE EMPEROR NERVA, WITH A 
 SELECTION, OF: POEMS 
 
 My book was longer than was fit, 
 This new edition shortens it, 
 And many verses I omit, 
 So this is my petition— 
 Let idle folk the larger choose, 
 And he who toils for us peruse 
 The shorter—he may not refuse 
 Some day the full edition. 
 
 VI 
 
 TO NERVA 
 
 Now Nerva kindliest of lords, doth reign, 
 To range on Helicon no more we dread, 
 Fair faith and Clemency return again 
 And tempered Might—but trembling Fear hath fled ; 
 O loyal Rome, thy Tribes and peoples pray 
 That Nerva and his like may reign alway ! 
 
 Hail to that noble soul, as Numa’s pure, 
 Like Cato’s—could a cheerful Cato be ; 
 Hail to that generous hand that aids the poor, 
 Nay, heaven itself is not more kind than he: 
 In evil days no evil stained his mind, 
 Ruled by a cruel prince he dared be kind. 
 
 374 
 
BOOK TWELVE 
 VII 
 THE KEY-NUMBER 
 
 IF in the total number of her hairs we have a key, 
 We are surely right in saying that Ligeia’s age is three. 
 
 * VIII 
 TO TRAJAN 
 
 WHEN Rome, the goddess of all men and lands, 
 To whom no equal and no second stands, 
 Counted the years for Trajan that remain 
 Through many ages, and beheld again 
 
 One who was young and valiant and beside 
 
 A mighty captain, glorying she cried— 
 
 “Come, Parthian chiefs, ye Seric leaders come, 
 Ye Thracians and ye Britons troop to Rome, 
 Come, Sauromatians, and ye Getae too, 
 
 I have a Caesar now to show to you’. 
 
 * IX 
 TO TRAJAN 
 
 PALMA is ruler now of our dear Spain 
 
 And his mild sway gives peace across the main. 
 O kindly emperor, grateful should we be 
 
 Who sendest to us manners like to thee. 
 
 x 
 ON AFRICANUS 
 
 ALTHOUGH he is an millionaire, 
 
 He courts the rich who lack an heir ; 
 Fortune gives much to many a one, 
 But just enough she grants to none. 
 
 SAO 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 a) 
 TO PARTHENIUS 
 
 Go forth my Muse, salute my friend and thine 
 
 Who oft has drunk of thy Pierian spring, 
 
 From out thy cave no clearer lyre doth ring 
 Than his ; and Phoebus loves him, and the Nine ; 
 Is he at leisure for thy songs and mine ? 
 
 Fond hope! give him our humble offering 
 To lay before the Prince ; four words it needs ; 
 Let him say only ‘ This thy city reads’. 
 
 SLL 
 (RO AONE LE 
 
 You’RE lavish with promises after a bout 
 Of drinking that lasts all the night ; 
 But when in the morning your friends meet you out, 
 There’s never a penny in sight. 
 I wish that sometimes you'ld get drunk in the day, 
 And then what you promise perhaps you would pay. 
 
 XIII 
 LTOVAU GINS 
 
 THE rich feign wrath—a profitable plan ; 
 ‘Tis cheaper far to hate than help a man. 
 
 pa LV 
 LOOK BEFORE YOU LEAP 
 
 BE careful, Priscus, with your dashing steed ; 
 
 Such haste against poor hares you do not need. 
 
 Oft will the huntsman to his prey atone, 
 
 And thrown to earth find all his hunting done. 
 
 E’en level ground a rider may ensnare 
 
 Though neither ditch nor mound nor stones be there. 
 Others in plenty may enjoy their fling 
 
 Whose death on Fate would not such odium bring ; 
 But if to deeds of valour you must soar, 
 
 Let us with safer courage hunt the boar. 
 
 Why this rash riding? If you are not stopped 
 You'll find that you, and not the hares, are chopped. 
 
 376 
 
BOOK TWELVE 
 
 XV 
 DOMITIAN’S PALACE OPENED 
 
 SEE, given to the gods, before our eyes 
 
 The glittering gems a Nero used to prize, 
 
 And Jupiter doth marvel to behold 
 
 The emerald’s lambent flame upon the gold, 
 The costly gauds that for a tyrant’s whim 
 
 A ruined world must buy and give to him, 
 
 The jewelled goblets fit to grace the board 
 Where Ganymede doth serve Olympus’ lord ; 
 Trajan enriches Jupiter, and we 
 
 Henceforth may live from dread exactions free, 
 That erst had robbed and burdened every home 
 And—shame upon it—spoiled the shrines of Rome ! 
 
 XVI 
 
 ADDIXTI, Labiene, tres agellos ; 
 Emisti, Labiene, tres cinaedos. 
 Pedicas, Labiene, tres agellos. 
 
 XVII 
 LAE VRICGH INVALID 
 
 FEVER abides with you too long, you say ; 
 
 That guest, whose lengthy visits you deplore, 
 Loves drives, luxurious bathing day by day, 
 And for his dinner, mushrooms, oysters, boar ; 
 Loves getting drunk—and you have ample store 
 Of wines, and always iced !—he loves display 
 Of rose-wreaths, essences, and hangings gay, 
 And downy beds like yours he doth adore ; 
 
 So, Dives, if you choose to treat him thus, 
 
 Why should he leave to live with Lazarus ? 
 
 XVIII 
 eee EINAL, ON THE PLEASURES OF SPAIN 
 
 AH, friend, while you are trudging still 
 The noisy streets as heretofore, 
 
 Or toiling up Diana's hill, 
 Or waiting at a patron’s door, 
 
 O77 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 How hot your toga seems, how high 
 To heavy feet the Coelian ! 
 
 For me such ills are past, for I 
 Am just a country gentleman ; 
 
 And here in Bilbilis, that yields 
 Rich gold and iron, lies my home, 
 Gaily I till Boterdum’s fields 
 (How strange our names must sound in Rome !) 
 
 All night I sleep, and steal from day 
 Three hours or more ; for those arrears 
 Long overdue would I repay— 
 The debt that ran for thirty years. 
 
 The toga is an unknown thing, 
 And, should I ask new clothes to wear, 
 ‘Tis likely that my slave would bring 
 The cover from an old armchair. 
 
 Then blazing oak-logs welcome me, 
 The forest skirts my pleasant cot, 
 Which cook (my bailiff’s wife is she) 
 Has crowned with many a hissing pot. 
 
 My close-shorn bailiff I receive ; 
 
 The boys, he thinks, their duty shirk : 
 He’s jealous and he wants my leave 
 
 To crop their locks and make them work. 
 
 My keeper next, a comely boy, 
 
 His beauty would delight your eye. 
 This is the life I now enjoy 
 
 Thus ever would I live and die. 
 
 XIX 
 POE PICNIC 
 
 LiGuT refreshments at the Baths we see Aemilius buying ; 
 So when he says he’s dining out, we know he isn’t lying. 
 
 378 
 
BOOK TWELVE 
 
 XX 
 THE ALTERNATIVE 
 
 You wonder how he lives unmarried ? Cease 
 To marvel, for his Reverence has a niece. 
 
 XXI 
 TO MARCELLA 
 
 WHO could believe, Marcella, that your home 
 Was this rude land? Such beauty doth adorn 
 Your lovely soul, the court of royal Rome, 
 Hearing your voice, would claim you Roman born ; 
 No high-bred city dame should ever scorn 
 Or ever rival you, a form so rare 
 Surpasses all, though beauty gathers there 
 From every land. Ah Rome! I longed for thee; 
 Now I shall pine and grieve no more, for where 
 Marcella dwells, that spot is Rome to me. 
 
 SONS 
 THE BEAUTY 
 
 ONE-EYED Nan is so ugly, I’m sure you will own 
 She would be better looking if both eyes were gone. 
 
 XXITI 
 foes LADY WHOTHAS JUST LOST HERVEVE 
 
 FALsE hair and teeth you're not ashamed to buy ; 
 What will you do, my dear, about your eye ? 
 
 379 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 XXIV 
 
 ON RECEIVING A PRESENT OF A 
 TRAVELLING-CARRIAGE 
 
 Wuat gift could be more pleasant than 
 This carriage, sent by Aelian, 
 
 A cosy gig, more private far 
 
 Than curricles or coaches are ? 
 
 Here we can talk, a friend and I, 
 
 Of what we will, nor dread a spy ; 
 
 No groom, no negro coachman’s near, 
 No footman cocks a prying ear, 
 
 The cobs are sure to be discreet, 
 
 And what they hear they won't repeat ; 
 I would Avitus were a third 
 
 With us, for what he overheard 
 
 Would matter nothing, were he nigh 
 How fast the happy day would fly. 
 
 XXV 
 LOWER EES IINGS 
 
 I ASKED a friendly loan, but you had got 
 
 No money, till I pledged my garden plot ! 
 And so it came to this that you would lend 
 To trees and cabbages, but not a friend. 
 
 Now, charged with treason, you appeal to me: 
 Why should I help you? Go and ask a tree! 
 Will I go with you if you’re banished ? No. 
 Invite the cabbages you trusted so. 
 
 NVI 
 EQUAL PAY 
 
 ALTHOUGH a Senator, you do not scorn 
 
 To court the great, while I, a knight abjure it ; 
 But when I trudge the streets from early morn, 
 
 Tis but for idle greetings I endure it ; 
 You seek the consulate or would adorn 
 
 A post as governor, and you secure it, 
 I will not cheat my sleep and face the mire too. 
 Is that so lazy ? What could I aspire to ? 
 
 380 
 
BOOK TWELVE 
 
 Must 1 escort you till my toes shall peer 
 Through broken shoes, or face in desperation 
 The sudden storm (one’s slave is never near 
 In such a case) to win the invitation 
 Your servant whispers in my frozen ear ? 
 Your dinner too? I’d rather face starvation ; 
 You get a province, ladinner? Nay, 
 For equal work let us have equal pay. 
 
 XXVII 
 
 A LATRONIBUS esse te fututam 
 Dicis, Saenia : sed negant latrones. 
 
 XXVIII 
 TO CINNA 
 
 I DRAIN but a cup, while you empty a beaker ; 
 And yet you complain that your tipple is weaker. 
 
 XXX 
 HERMOGENES 
 
 Massa was bold in stealing gold—and yet Hermogenes, 
 Our napkin thief, in my belief, surpasses him with ease ; 
 You watch his wrist and seize his fist, or tie it up or knot it, 
 And yet anon, your napkin’s gone—Hermogenes has got it ! 
 So Iris may charm rain away, though heavy storm-clouds 
 lower, 
 Or stags at will draw serpents chill, by their mysterious power ; 
 The arena’s crowd once cried aloud to save a man alive 
 And kerchiefs waved—ere he was saved, Hermogenes got five ; 
 When in his place to start a race the praetor had to stop, 
 His kerchief white was gone from sight, ere it had time to 
 drop ; 
 The folk of Rome now leave at home their kerchiefs, for they 
 dread 
 Hermogenes who, lacking these, takes table-cloths instead ; 
 If none be there he’ll even dare to steal more bulky things, 
 Though tightly stitched he’s oft unhitched the sofa coverings ; 
 In summer’s heat the sun may beat on people at the shows ; 
 Despite the glare, if he be ae: away the awning goes ; 
 381 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Or should he be on wharf or quay, a panic will prevail, 
 
 The sailors haste—no time they waste in furling every sail ; 
 
 It frightens, too, great Isis’ crew ; her shaveling devotees 
 
 Are linen clad, they run like mad before Hermogenes. 
 
 All folk agree wherever he may dine, there’s not a doubt, 
 
 When dinner’s done he'll leave with one although he came 
 without. 
 
 XXX 
 ON TAPER 
 
 HeE’s sober and abstemious ? One commends 
 These qualities in slaves, but not in friends. 
 
 XXXI 
 MARCELLA’S GIFT 
 
 THE grove, the woven shade of arching vine, 
 
 The streams, the runnels in their conduit clear, 
 Fields, roses—Paestum’s hardly vie with mine— 
 
 The herbs that never know a winter drear, 
 
 The pond that teems with eels, the dovecote there, 
 All snowy-white, for whiter doves a shrine, 
 
 My lady gave when I returned to Spain 
 After long years ; Pheacia’s realm divine 
 
 Nausicaa should offer me in vain : 
 
 Tis in Marcella’s I would choose to reign. 
 
 XXXIT 
 MOVING DAY 
 
 VACERRA, when you moved on quarter-day 
 
 I saw your household goods, a foul display— 
 
 Most had been seized for two years’ rent unpaid— 
 Borne by your wife, a carrot-headed jade, 
 
 —Seven hairs were left to prove the fact, no less— 
 Your sister, hideous, blousy giantess, 
 
 Trudged with the hag, your mother (truth to tell 
 
 I thought them furies coming up from hell). 
 
 382 
 
BOOK TWELVE 
 
 You followed them, a starveling pinched with cold 
 The very tint of boxwood bleached and old ; 
 
 Irus are you, the type of pauperdom, 
 
 Your goods the fitting extract of a slum, 
 
 Three legs the bedstead owned, the table two, 
 Item a lantern, scarce a ray comes through, 
 
 Item a dirty pot and earthen bowl, 
 
 (The former cracked and dripping through a hole), 
 Item a brazier, with mould ’tis green, 
 
 Embracing which a battered crock is seen, 
 
 Item a jar whose ancient fish-like smell 
 
 Proclaims that there anchovies used to dwell,— 
 
 A dried-up fish-pool thus insults the breeze— 
 
 Nor was there lacking rinds of rotten cheese, 
 
 Or wreaths of flea-bane, stale and mouldering, 
 Garlic or onions dropping from the string, 
 
 Item some resin—this your mother owns— 
 
 An aid to beauty used by gutter crones ; 
 
 Why are you ‘ moving house’? It seems to me 
 Such families as yours should live rent free : 
 Don’t mock house-agents ; for your household stuff 
 The arches of the bridge are good enough. 
 
 XXXII 
 
 UT pueros emeret Labienus uendidit hortos. 
 Nil nisi ficetum nunc Labienus habet. 
 
 XXXIV 
 POMPU LLU SM AR EIALIS 
 
 DEAR Julius, four-and-thirty years have flown 
 Since first our love began, and we have known 
 
 Delight and mingled sorrow through them all ; 
 Does not the joy for all the grief atone ? 
 
 You doubt it ? Set aside the pearls that mark 
 The happy days, and by them set the dark 
 
 Dull stones that stand for sorrow ; reckon all ; 
 Which are the more? Yet life is stern and stark, 
 
 And would you guard against its bitterness, 
 
 Its sharpest pangs of grief? Let none possess 
 The very heart and soul of you, for then 
 
 Joy may be marred but sorrow shall be less. 
 
 383 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 oO Vi 
 LTO CALIIST RALTUsS 
 
 As though you were really the frankest of men 
 
 You talk of your amours, the how, why and when. 
 You are not as frank as you’ld have me believe, 
 
 For a lad who says so much hides more up his sleeve. 
 
 XXXVI 
 LO A STINGY PAT KOS 
 
 BECAUSE you send a needy friend a pound of plate—or less— 
 
 A coat threadbare or cape to wear—is that free-handedness ? 
 
 Because a few gold pieces too (how pleasantly they chink) 
 
 You sometimes sent—’tis two months’ rent—you're liberal, 
 you think. 
 
 The rest, ’tis true, give less than you, but generous you are 
 not, 
 
 What are you then? ’Mid meaner men the best of a bad lot ; 
 
 Piso I knew, and Crispus too, while yet their fortune stood, 
 
 Compared with such you would be much the worst of all the 
 good ; 
 
 Let any steed who boasts of speed our thoroughbreds outpace : 
 
 ‘Tis small applause you get because you win a donkey-race ! 
 
 + ASS VAL 
 THE CRITICAL Shy se 
 
 WHEN we Say of a critic—* What wonderful flair ’ 
 We don’t to his out-size in noses refer. 
 
 POX AVE 
 TO CANDIDUS 
 
 THERE’S a fellow just now too well-known about town, 
 Whom in sedan-chairs we see borne up and down, 
 
 With hair black and oily, in bright purple dressed, 
 
 Smooth legs, wanton eyes, and a broad hairless breast. 
 
 You might think with your wife he some mischief will plan ; 
 But you need not be frightened—he is not a man, 
 
 384 
 
BOOK TWELVE 
 XXXIX 
 THE PRETTY FELLOW 
 
 I KNOW your name is Prettyman ; but then, 
 
 My Prettyman, I hate all pretty men, 
 
 For pretty petty poppets are accurst, 
 
 And of the lot you, Prettyman, are worst. 
 
 ‘Twere pretty conduct should you grant one boon— 
 Fade Prettyman, and do it pretty soon ! 
 
 of 
 TO PONTILIANUS 
 
 I DRINK when you're drinking, I sing when you sing, 
 
 I praise your poor verse, I believe anything, 
 
 You beat me at draughts, and I feign not to hear 
 
 When the sound of your wind strikes me full in the ear. 
 And yet for all this I get nothing. You say— 
 
 “There’s my will’. I don’t want it—but please pass away. 
 
 Fd BA | 
 LOSLUCCA 
 
 It does not suffice you to be a gourmet : 
 You want to be known and to hear what men say. 
 
 DS EAM 
 A FASHIONABLE MARRIAGE 
 
 As when a virgin joins a husband ’s side, 
 
 So Afer took Callistratus for bride. 
 
 The torches shone, his face was hid by veil, 
 Nor did the marriage song—‘ Talassus ’—fail. 
 A dowry too was given, and men say 
 
 Rome now is waiting for accouchement-day. 
 
 385 2B 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 + GEBE 
 
 FACUNDOs mihi de libidinosis 
 Legisti nimium, Sabelle, uersus, 
 Quales nec Didymi sciunt puellae 
 Nec molles, Elephantidos libelli. 
 Sunt illic Veneris nouae figurae, 
 Quales perditus audeat fututor, 
 Praestent et taceant quid exoleti, 
 Quo symplegmate quinque copulentur, 
 Qua plures teneantur a catena, 
 Extinctam liceat quid ad lucernam. 
 Tanti non erat esse te disertum. 
 
 BOL Vs 
 LO UNICOUS 
 
 I HAIL you kinsman both in blood and heart, 
 For kin we are alike in soul and aim ; 
 
 You might have matched your brother’s loftier art, 
 But, for his love, that palm you will not claim ; 
 Aye, Lesbia might have loved you and your fame 
 
 Have lured Corinna ; but an humbler part 
 You chose and still, for brother-love, you deign 
 To hug the shore who might have sailed the main ! 
 
 EWEN 
 TO PHOEBUS 
 
 Your temples and bald-pated crown are quite hid 
 By a skilful contraption of close-fitting kid. 
 
 A wit passing by made a charming bon mot— 
 ‘By Jingo, the man’s got his head in a shoe’. 
 
 XLVI 
 THESBUSINESS SO LN SE 
 GALLUS has sold his songs! How can you then 
 
 Maintain that poets are not business men ? 
 
 386 
 
BOOK TWELVE 
 
 XLVII 
 ACO RIC GOCE 
 
 CAPTIOUS, yet kind ; pleasant but testy too ; 
 I cannot bear to part, or live with you. 
 
 XLVITI 
 HIGH LIVING 
 
 I WILLINGLY accept your dainty fare 
 If hospitality be undesigning ; 
 Not so, if you imagine that I care 
 For nothing in the world so much as dining ; 
 A dozen oysters will not make you heir 
 To my reputed wealth for which you're pining ; 
 The feast is elegant ; that I admit 
 But on the morrow what is left of it ? 
 
 Upon the morrow? Where is it to-day 
 
 The moment after it has passed your gullet ? 
 The broken gobbets all are swept away 
 
 By dirty mops, and pork and hare and mullet 
 Become to dogs and scavengers a prey, 
 
 And you to gout—and who can cure or lull it ? 
 A yellow, pasty face, and tortured feet, 
 These are the legacies of dainty meat. 
 
 Will richest priestly banquets pay for these ? 
 Were nectar offered me I should esteem it, 
 At such a cost, mere vinegar, the lees 
 Of doctored Vatican ; and do you deem it 
 A likely thing that fare of yours could please 
 My palate and ensnare me? Do not dream it: 
 To me a simple, friendly board is best, 
 I love the fare I too can give a guest. 
 
 XLIX 
 THE WARDROBE-KEEPER 
 
 RIcH is the mistress who commits 
 To you her dainty favourites, 
 Besides her plate and jewels rare 
 The curly darlings are your care ; 
 
 387 2 B2 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 And, Linus, may she always trust 
 And think of you as true and just ; 
 But, Linus, hear me when I pray 
 And for one moment turn away ; 
 For I am frenzied with desire, 
 
 My very heart and soul afire, 
 
 For those dear things—I cannot rest 
 But long to hug them to my breast, 
 Those lovely snowy, perfect—girls ? 
 Oh no, I mean those perfect pearls ! 
 
 D 
 SPLENDID ISOLATION 
 
 YOU own a spacious bath that none may share, 
 And groves of bay and plane and towering pine, 
 A hundred-pillared portico, where shine 
 Rich onyx pavements with their dusky glare, 
 Drives where the clattering hoofs resound, and where 
 The plashing streams and fountains leap in foam, 
 But not a chamber for a guest is there— 
 O gorgeous palace! Splendid lack of home ! 
 
 Bool 
 LOVAULUS 
 
 It’s no use to give friend Fabullinus the office : 
 A good man, remember, is always a novice. 
 
 LAG 
 ON THE GRAVE OF KUBGS 
 
 PIERIA’S garland oft has decked his head, 
 His eloquence the wondering forum knew, 
 
 And now, Sempronia, though his life be fled, 
 His very ashes glow with love of you. 
 
 Now, in Elysium is the story told 
 
 And Helen marvels at your nobler heart, 
 It was for love she fled her lord of old, 
 
 You fled your lover, ’twas the fairer part. 
 
 388 
 
BOOK TWELVE 
 
 Aye, and this greater tale of Troy beguiles 
 E’en Menelaus to forget the past ; 
 
 For as he hears thereof he turns and smiles, 
 Through you the Phrygian is forgiven at last. 
 
 When to the mansion of the blest you go, 
 Sempronia, no shade shall rank above you, 
 Such sorrow well Proserpina does know, 
 And this, your tale, shall win the Queen to love you. 
 
 Eiri 
 THE MISER 
 
 THouGH abundant wealth you own— 
 Such a treasure few have known— 
 Yet you sit and brood alone 
 O’er your pelf ; 
 Like the dragon coiled of old 
 Round the Colchian fleece of gold, 
 Every halfpenny you hold 
 For yourself. 
 To delude us you romance 
 On your ‘ son’s’ extravagance, 
 You may cozen fools perchance, 
 Though indeed 
 You are right to say your ‘ son,’ 
 For your life had scarce begun 
 Ere your soul begot you one, 
 Namely greed. 
 
 LUV. 
 
 LOVZOILUS 
 
 WITH your short stumpy feet and your eyes pink and blear, 
 Your swarthy complexion and flaming red hair, 
 
 If with these marks upon you, you could honest be, 
 
 You would seem nothing less than a monstrosity. 
 
 389 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 LV 
 
 GRATIS qui dare uos iubet, puellae, 
 Insulsissimus inprobissimusque est. 
 Gratis ne date, basiate gratis. 
 
 Hoc Aegle negat, hoc auara uendit 
 (Sed uendat : bene basiare quantum est !) 
 Hoc uendit quoque nec leui rapina : 
 Aut libram petit illa Cosmiani 
 
 Aut binos quater a noua moneta, 
 Ne sint basia muta, ne maligna, 
 
 Ne clusis aditum neget labellis. 
 Humane tamen hoc facit : recusat 
 Gratis quae dare basium, sed unum, 
 Gratis lingere non recusat Aegle. 
 
 Dy. 
 FULFILMENT 
 
 You’RE often ill, that hapless friends 
 May féte you when the danger’s past ; 
 Let the next fever make amends 
 For former greed, and be your last. 
 
 LVII 
 THE NOISES OF ROME 
 
 Wuy do I seek my poor Nomentan home 
 
 And squalid hearth, my fields by drought oppressed ? 
 Because I cannot find a place in Rome 
 
 Where men as poor as I can sleep or rest. 
 
 At early dawn the schoolmasters begin, 
 By nights the pastry-cooks no respite give, 
 Smiths make the daylight hideous with their din 
 Of clashing hammers. What a life to live! 
 
 Here is a money-changer ringing coins 
 Upon his dirty counter—lazy cheat— 
 
 Next door the Spanish goldsmith’s shop adjoins, 
 All day the glittering mallets thump and beat. 
 
 399 
 
BOOK TWELVE 
 
 Bellona’s frenzied minions howl and rant, 
 A bandaged sailor begs, a Jewish child, 
 
 Taught by his mother, whines his lying cant, 
 Blear-eyed match pedlars shout and drive me wild. 
 
 But who may count the noises of the Town 
 
 That murder sleep ? Nay, you could count as soon 
 The clashing cymbal-strokes that try to drown 
 
 The Colchian incantation to the moon. 
 
 But, Sparsus, you can never know such ills, 
 Softly you le and lapped in rustic peace, 
 Your lowest room is far above our hills, 
 Long ere they reach you noise and clamour cease. 
 
 A country house within the city bounds 
 Your labourers can live within the wall— 
 
 With vineyards rich and drives and spacious grounds, 
 All these are yours and quiet sleep withal. 
 
 At will the glaring sunlight you exclude, 
 
 Rome throngs about my bed, I start from sleep 
 To tramping footsteps and to laughter rude, 
 
 Till, wearied, to my country cot I creep. 
 
 DVAIL 
 Peri ae PALR 
 
 SAYS your wife with a sneer, ‘ You're the lady-maid’s dear’, 
 And she mocks at your conduct as shady ; 
 
 But well-matched you must be; ‘tis notorious that she 
 Is the gentleman’s gentleman’s lady ! 
 
 IEID.< 
 GREETINGS 
 
 THREE lustres passed and when, at last, you came again to 
 Rome, 
 You hoped she might omit the rite of welcoming you home ; 
 But by the town you're hunted down, and needs must undergo 
 ie 
 More kisses there you get than e’er sweet Lesbia gave her 
 poet ; 
 
 391 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 A tailor’s kiss is hardly bliss ; one loves not hairy throats 
 
 Of farmers who convey to you a hint—and more—of goats ; 
 
 By fullers next your sense is vexed, then hastens to your side 
 
 The cobbler, he, apparently, has just been kissing hide— 
 
 Now you shall brave a blear-eyed knave: none show you 
 any pity, 
 
 And then will come the very scum and refuse of the city ; 
 
 The loathly crew so harries you, until you cry ‘ Alack, 
 
 Would I have stayed afar nor paid this price for coming back’! 
 
 LX 
 ON AIS BIRT DAg 
 
 ’Twas on thy morn, thou feast beloved of Mars, 
 That first I saw the lord of all the stars, 
 
 Now on green altars round my rustic home 
 
 I pay the dues erstwhile I paid in Rome ; 
 Forgive the change ; I cannot live a slave, 
 
 But would enjoy the life my Kalends gave. 
 
 In Rome my birthday made me pale with fear :— 
 ‘ Alauda loves neat wine—but is it clear 
 
 And duly strained ? And has Sabellus got 
 Mulled wine enough? I know he likes it hot’. 
 Between the courses ever on the run, 
 
 Receiving or attending every one, 
 
 My share of dinner I must sacrifice 
 
 To trot about a floor as cold as ice ; 
 
 But why for casual guest endure a pain 
 
 Which valued patrons would demand in vain ? 
 
 LXI 
 TO LIGURRA 
 
 So you pretend to fear you may be hit 
 
 By pointed epigrams, the shafts of wit ? 
 
 To seem a worthy foeman you aspire, 
 
 How vain alike the fear and the desire ! 
 
 Against fierce bulls the lion’s wrath may rise, 
 
 He scorns to war with puny butterflies ; 
 
 You want arecord? Seek the sots who scrawl, 
 With chalk or charcoal, filth upon a wall : 
 
 But should I deign to brand so foul a knave, 
 Good heavens ! you might be taken for my slave. 
 
 392 
 
BOOK TWELVE 
 * LXIT 
 THE WELCOME HOME 
 
 KinG of the former world and ancient sky 
 With whom no toil disturbed tranquillity, 
 
 No bolt fell fierce to punish men for sin, 
 
 And earth unriven kept her gold within, 
 
 Come, Saturn, to thine own repast of joy 
 Which Priscus gives to greet his darling boy. 
 For thou, kind Sire, hast made him safely come 
 In this sixth winter from old Numa’s home. 
 Seest thou the lavish honours to thee paid, 
 How like a Roman mart the feast is made 
 With plenteous cheer and tokens on the board 
 Which shall a goodly store of gifts afford, 
 
 And how to give such worth a greater price 
 
 A careful father makes thee sacrifice. 
 
 Do thou then, Sire, in this thy bright December 
 Grant that such days we ever may remember. 
 
 LXIII 
 ON A CORDOVAN PLAGIARIST 
 
 CorRDOVA, your store of rich olives is more 
 Than even Venafrum can boast, 
 
 You can vie with the best that are brought from Trieste 
 Or the groves of the Istrian coast ; 
 
 Though Tarentum declare that her fleeces are fair 
 And unrivalled in texture and tone, 
 
 Yet they borrow their hue—but more honest are you 
 And content to exhibit your own ; 
 
 So your fame you should guard by reproving your bard 
 Who is stealing my verse. I confess 
 
 That I should not much mind were his own of a kind 
 That would give me a chance of redress ! 
 
 But a bachelor’s free from reprisals, if he 
 Run away with your wife, for he’s not one, 
 
 And ‘ eye for an eye’ one can hardly apply 
 To a culprit unless he has got one ; 
 
 So a robber may feel more incitement to steal 
 When there’s nothing at all in his purse, 
 
 And your poet obscure may be perfectly sure 
 That no other will pilfer his verse. 
 
 ay. 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 Se LVi 
 A ROUND PEG 
 
 A PAGE-BOY whose cheeks did the roses surpass 
 Cinna sent to the kitchen, the gluttonous ass. 
 
 Tex, 
 AYDELICATE DAMSEE 
 
 PHYLLIs had shown herself to me 
 
 As yielding as she well could be, 
 
 I thought, shall I reward the fair 
 With essences or unguents rare, 
 
 Fine cloth, perhaps a pretty frock, 
 Or “ yellow boys’ her purse to stock ? 
 But, ere I knew, this dainty love 
 Clung, kissing like an amorous dove, 
 About my neck, and begged of me 
 
 A quart or so—of eau-de-vie ! 
 
 of ED ONG 
 TO AMOENUS 
 
 IT cost you a thousand, the house you possess, 
 
 And you would be quite willing to sell it for less ; 
 
 But you're trying to gull us with tricks, people say, 
 
 And disguise its poor rooms with pretentious display. 
 
 Your tortoiseshell couches inlaid brightly shine, 
 
 And your tables of African citrus look fine, 
 
 Your sideboard is loaded with silver and gold, 
 
 And your page-boys are quite a delight to behold. 
 
 Then you cry out—‘ Two thousand: it’s worth it ’—I hear. 
 Well, with furniture in it, that’s really not dear. 
 
 7 SUXV IT 
 TO SILIUS ITALICUS, ON VIRGIL'S Bina 
 
 TuE Ides of May as Hermes’ day is known, 
 The Ides of August Dian holds her own, 
 Maro has made October’s Ides divine ; 
 
 To keep that feast and this with his be thine. 
 
 394 
 
BOOK TWELVE 
 
 PXVITL 
 A WARNING TO HIS SPANISH FRIENDS 
 
 I FLED from Rome and early calls, 
 So, Spanish friends, I pray you, 
 
 Be wise and seek the lordly halls 
 Of those who can repay you. 
 
 I hate the courts, and legal strife 
 My lazy mind refuses, 
 
 For I am getting on in life 
 And love to serve the Muses ; 
 
 Unbroken sleep I love ; the stir 
 And din of Rome destroy it ; 
 But I am going back to her 
 If here I can't enjoy it. 
 
 = Td hep ed 8 
 LOeE AG TUS 
 
 Your friends are like your pictures and your wine : 
 All three are old and all are genuine. 
 
 Ao. 
 FORCED SOBRIETY 
 
 WHEN his bath-towel by one bow-legged servant was carried, 
 And a one-eyed old crone watched his gown while he tarried, 
 And he got his scant oil from a ruptured masseur, 
 
 Then Afer could never potations endure ; 
 
 And if he saw any one drinking would say— 
 
 “Smash the bottle and throw the vile liquor away ’. 
 
 But since he’s been left his old uncle’s estate, 
 
 I am told from the baths he can seldom walk straight. 
 Chaliced cups and five slaves have more charm than you think : 
 While Afer was poor he’d no fancy for drink. 
 
 Jef ED.D, GI 
 OY DOS. 
 
 THERE is nothing you do not deny me to-day : 
 Yet once there was nothing to which you said nay. 
 
 395 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 LXXII 
 TO PANNYCHOS 
 
 A FIELD and tumble-down abode 
 
 Behind the Tombs that line the Road, 
 You quit the bar for these ! 
 
 You earned a decent living when 
 
 You harrowed only jury-men, 
 And raised a crop of fees, 
 
 The Clients paid in kind and you 
 
 Had wheat to sell and barley, true 
 The profits were not high ; 
 
 But now ’tis easy to foretell 
 
 That all the things you used to sell 
 Henceforward you must buy ! 
 
 sd Bi, Se HL 
 LORCALO TIE GS 
 
 You say that you’ve made me your heir : all the same 
 I shan’t feel too certain till I read my name. 
 
 LED. GAY 
 WITH A GIFT OF CHEAP GLASS-WAKE 
 
 EGyptT shall send you crystal glass, meanwhile 
 These cups I bought in Rome perhaps may do; 
 
 You know ’tis called ‘ Bold ware’, but would you style 
 Me bolder still for sending it to you ? 
 
 Cheap stuff has virtues, this no thief would think 
 Of stealing ; boiling water will not mar it ; 
 And then the guest is not afraid to drink 
 And servants need not tremble if they jar it ; 
 
 ‘Tis nervous hands that let a vessel fall— 
 And here again’s a point you should not miss— 
 When toasts are drunk you will not mind at all 
 If you should have to break a cup like this. 
 
 396 
 
BOOK TWELVE 
 LXXV 
 
 FESTINAT Polytimus ad puellas ; 
 Inuitus puerum fatetur Hypnus ; 
 Pastas glande natis habet Secundus ; 
 Mollis Dindymus est sed esse non uult ; 
 Amphion potuit puella nasci. 
 
 Horum delicias superbiamque 
 
 Et fastus querulos, Auite, malo 
 
 Quam dotis mihi quinquies ducena. 
 
 LXXVI 
 THE EXCHANGE 
 
 WitTH his wheat at ten shillings a sack 
 And wine next to nothing, alack ! 
 
 No farmer need thirst, all may eat till they burst : 
 But they haven't a coat for their back. 
 
 Sees VIL 
 AN UNFORTUNATE ACCIDENT 
 
 As he stood on his toes with his face turned to heaven, 
 
 By an internal tempest poor Aethon was riven. 
 
 Men laughed; but Jove thought that the wind which he 
 broke 
 
 Could not be regarded as merely a joke ; 
 
 And so as a penalty bade him to stay 
 
 And dine by himself for three nights from that day. 
 
 LXXVIII 
 LOVBITAYNICUS 
 
 I WROTE no libel touching you ; 
 You say on oath I must deny it ? 
 
 No! there’s a better thing to do, 
 I'll write one now—and justify it. 
 
 597 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 a EDO. B.S 
 LOVATHICLUEA 
 
 WuaT you ask for I always have given—and more ; 
 Yet you still keep on asking, the same as before. 
 
 If a man does not know when the word should be ‘ No, 
 It means there’s no length to which he will not go. 
 
 rd 
 
 LXXX 
 TOVGALLISTRA TUS 
 
 ALL men you praise because you would 
 Withhold their honour from the good ; 
 So none are bad? If that’s your view, 
 Then no one can be good to you. 
 
 LXXXT 
 ADDITIONS 
 
 His presents take the ampler shape 
 His larger means allow ; 
 
 Of old he used to send a cape 
 He sends me capers now. 
 
 LXXXII 
 THE ANGLER 
 
 You may struggle as you please to escape Menogenes 
 In the bath or on the playground ; at a match, 
 In the hottest game of ball, right and left he catches all, 
 But he registers to you his every catch. 
 Or though shod and ready dressed through the dust he runs 
 in quest 
 Of your football, and politely hands it back ; 
 Of your towels he will say, “Oh how snowy-white are they ’, 
 Though a mewling baby’s bib is not as black ; 
 As you comb your scanty hairs, then the parasite declares 
 The arrangement is the Achillean style ; 
 Then he mixes your emetic and in.fashion sympathetic 
 Will administer to you that potion vile, 
 He will mop your brow and tend you if the nauseous draught 
 should rend you— 
 ‘Tis compounded from the lees of smoky wine. 
 When he’s lauded and admired everything, till you are tired, 
 You, from simple boredom, bid him come and dine! 
 
 398 
 
BOOK TWELVE 
 
 * LXXXIII 
 KNOW THYSELF 
 
 FABIANUS, the terror of men about town, 
 Was wont once at hernia to jeer, 
 While, if you were ruptured, the noisiest clown 
 Could not match the insults you would hear. 
 But he saw his own figure at bath yesterday, 
 And now on that subject he’s nothing to say. 
 
 ELDON LV 
 Memo bei AGE-DOY. POLY LTIMUS 
 
 I THOUGHT it a pity to cut your long hair, 
 
 But now I am glad that I granted your prayer. 
 
 Like to this was young Pelops when for his fair bride 
 His ringlets clipped short showed his ivory side. 
 
 LXXXV 
 
 PEDICONIBUS Os olere dicis. 
 Hoc si, sicut ais, Fabulle, uerum est, 
 Quid tu credis olere cunnilingis ? 
 
 LXXXVI 
 
 TRIGINTA tibi sunt pueri totidemque puellae : 
 Una est nec surgit mentula. Quid facies ? 
 
 LXXXVII 
 ONe COTTA 
 
 ONCE to excuse his lack of shoes, his servant he’d condemn, 
 
 And say his slaves, the careless knaves, were always losing 
 them. 
 
 —His slaves forsooth! In simple truth he had but one, no 
 more, 
 
 And he must shout and rush about as though he were a score— 
 
 A further plan now—guileful man !—his cunning executes ; 
 
 Barefoot he goes, we may suppose, lest he should lose his 
 boots ! 
 
 399 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 
 SONY LT 
 ON ARG EI LG 
 
 TONGILIANUS is most keen of scent : 
 But all his efforts on his nose are spent. 
 
 A HED.O.©.0 PS 
 
 TO CHARINUS WHO CONCEALED HIS BALDNESS 
 WITH BANDAGES 
 
 A BAND round your head you continually wear : 
 It is not your ears that are wrong, but your hair. 
 
 XC 
 INDEMNITY 
 
 His friend was old and sick ! and Maro made 
 A vow for him—for he was like to die— 
 
 And said if heaven the burning fever stayed, 
 A victim should be given to Jove on high ; 
 The crisis passed : the leeches testify 
 
 That all is well—the fever’s course is run— 
 So Maro makes new vows wherewith to buy 
 
 Indemnity against the former one. 
 
 POL 
 TO MAGULLA 
 
 SINCE with your husband everything you share, 
 His bed and board—and eke his minion fair— 
 Why have another page-boy when you sup ? 
 Ah yes, I see: there’s danger in the cup. 
 
 XC 
 RIDDLES 
 
 What should I be if great and rich ? 
 That is the sort of question which 
 One cannot prophesy on ; 
 Apply it to yourself: e.g., 
 What sort of lion will you be 
 If you become a lion 
 400 
 
BOOK TWELVE 
 
 pea CLil 
 
 THE GO-BETWEEN 
 
 LABULLA’S invented a curious play, 
 
 Her lover to kiss when her lord’s in the way. 
 
 She kisses her zany a hundred times over, 
 
 And wet from her mouth he goes straight to her lover, 
 Who adds a few more from his own eager lips, 
 
 And back to his sly smiling mistress he slips. 
 
 And so it goes on. But between you and me, 
 
 What a very big zany the husband must be! 
 
 XCIV 
 
 DHEA CO ley Sd 
 
 I TOOK to Epic ; you began it too ; 
 
 I ceased, because I would not vie with you. 
 
 The tragic buskin then my Muse puts on ; 
 Forthwith the robe of tragedy you don. 
 
 I thought to tune the sweet Horatian lyre ; 
 
 You snatched the plectrum, seized with like desire. 
 Satire I tried ; then Satire was your aim. 
 
 I sang light elegies ; you did the same. 
 
 I sought with simple epigrams to charm ; 
 
 And you would rob me of my humble palm. 
 Pray curb this greed ; say what you don’t affect, 
 And leave to me one style that you reject ! 
 
 XCV 
 
 MusaEI pathicissimos libellos, 
 Qui certant Sybariticis libellis, 
 Et tinctas sale pruriente chartas 
 Instanti lege Rufe ; sed puella 
 Sit tecum tua, ne thalassionem 
 Indicas manibus libidinosis 
 Et fias sine femina maritus. 
 
 401 
 
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS 
 XCVI 
 
 Cum tibi nota tui sit uita fidesque mariti 
 Nec premat ulla tuos sollicitetue toros, 
 Quid quasi paelicibus torqueris inepta ministris, 
 In quibus et breuis est et fugitiua Venus ? 
 Plus tibi quam domino pueros praestare probabo : 
 Hi faciunt ut sis femina sola uiro ; 
 Hi dant quod non uis uxor dare. ‘ Do tamen’ inquis 
 “Ne uagus a thalamis coniugis erret amor ’. 
 
 XCVII 
 
 VxoR cum tibi sit puella qualem 
 Uotis uix petat inprobus maritus, 
 Diues nobilis erudita casta, 
 
 Rumpis, Basse, latus, sed in comatis, 
 Uxoris tibi dote quos parasti. 
 
 Et sic ad dominam reuersa languet 
 Multis mentula milibus redempta ; 
 Sed nec uocibus excitata blandis, 
 Molli pollice nec rogata surgit. 
 
 Sit tandem pudor aut eamus in lus. 
 Non est haec tua, Basse: uendidisti. 
 
 XCVIII 
 THE NEW RULER 
 
 O BAETIS, olive-crowned, whose waters clear 
 Transmute to gold the fleeces of thy sheep, 
 
 Thou stream to Bacchus and to Pallas dear, 
 Now, Albula, the mistress of the deep, 
 Sends Rufus to thy shores: these may he keep 
 
 In happy fortune through the coming year— 
 Hard task !—as Macer kept them ; he hath weighed 
 The burden and he takes it unafraid. 
 
 PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY 
 THE EDINBURGH PRESS, 9 AND II YOUNG STREET, EDINBURGH 
 

 

 

 
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 H. I. WOOLF 
 
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 MONTESQUIEU’S PERSIAN LETTERS 
 
 JOHN DAVIDSON 
 
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 F, A. WRIGHT 
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 W. ROSE, Ph.D. 
 
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 FOUR FRENCH COMEDIES OF THE XVIIIth 
 CENTURY RICHARD ALDINGTON 
 
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 HELIODORUS’ AN AETHIOPIAN ROMANCE 
 
 THOS. UNDERDOWNE, 1587 
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 THREE PLAYS OF LUNACHARSKI 
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 HEINE’S POEMS, SONGS, AND, BALLADS 
 L. UNTERMEYER 
 
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 THEOCRITUS, BION, AND MOSCHUS 
 J. H. HALLARD 
 
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 THREE TIBETAN MYSTERIES H. I. WOOLF 
 
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 REYNARD THE FOX WM. CAXTON, 1481 
 
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 *SUETONIUS’ HISTORY OF TWELVE CAESARS 
 
 PHILEMON HOLLAND 
 
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 1684-5. 
 
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 JAMES MABBE, 1631 
 
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 *AKSAKOFF’S CHRONICLES OF A RUSSIAN 
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 COUNT LUCANOR, OR THE FIFTY PLEASANT 
 TALES OF PATRONIO JAMES YORK, 1868 
 
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 by L. S. Woods. 
 
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 THREE PLAYS OF PLAUTUS F. A. WRIGHT and 
 
 H, E. ROGERS 
 
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 *GESTA ROMANORUM Rev. CHARLES SWAN 
 
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 *A BOOK OF CHARACTERS 
 RICHARD ALDINGTON 
 
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 MME DE LAFAYETTE’S PRINCESS OF CLEVES 
 
 Prof. H. ASHTON 
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 *BANDELLO’S NOVELS GEOFFREY FENTON, 
 
 156 
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 THE POETS OF THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY 
 F. A. WRIGHT 
 
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