Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

BOOK THREE

* LVIII
TO BASSUS
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.
9I