Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

BOOK SIX

Aye, we are babes of tender ageTo 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
THE RETURN
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.
LXXII
SACRILEGE
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!
* LXXIII
A STATUE OF PRIAPUS
'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.
I87