Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

MARTIAL'S EPIGRAMS

XLIX
POPULAR TASTE
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!
L
COMPARISONS
THAIS, you say that I am old. 'Tis true:
But how could any be too old for you?
LI
TO CAECILIANUS
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.
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