Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

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.
* XXXI
THE ACROBATS
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 SPENDTHRIFT'S ESTATE
HE didn't leave his wife a sou-why not?
He had but one and that he still has got.
* XXXIII
THE CRITIC
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!
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