Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

BOOK SEVEN

1
ON DOMITIAN'S CUIRASS
THY breastplate, dread as Pallas' own, whereon
The Gorgon dare not gaze, now, Caesar, don!
Seems it but mortal armour? It shall be
A very Aegis when it touches thee.
* II
ON THE SA ME
THOU who to Sarmate arrows ne'er wilt yield,
More trusty than the War God's Getic shield,
Woven from countless boars with talons bright
And proof against e'en Meleager's might,
Rejoice, good cuirass, in thy happy part
To guard our god and touch his beating heart.
Go thou unharmed and soon, the triumph won,
Restore our chief the palm-leaved gown to don.
III
THE REASON
You ask me why my books were never sent?
For fear you might return the compliment.
IV
THE ESSENTIA L

To pallid skin his verse is due,
To this alone we owe it;
He thought that interesting hue
Enough to make a poet.
'97