English

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 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.

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

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.

'T IS strange that Phoebus dines night after night
With knaves whose deeds could never bear the light!

She flaunts in garments Tyrian dyed
By day and night as well,
'Tis not extravagance or pride,
Oh no — she likes the smell.

A BOUT 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,

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"?

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!

Q UINTUS , 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.