Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

BOOK ONE

I
* PREFACE
SEE, at your service, if you list,
Martial the epigrammatist;
To whom, kind reader, here below,
While he the joys of fame could know,
Such meed of glory you have given
As poets seldom reap in heaven.
II
THE BOOK SPEAKS
IF you would choose a book to be
Your travelling comrade, I remind you
To buy a handy one like me,
And leave your heavy tomes behind you.
One that a single hand can hold
Is best of all, and 'twere a pity
Should you forget where such are sold
And wander vaguely through the city.
Near Pallas' forum you shall see
The shrine of Peace, and close behind them
Secundus' shop-a freedman he
Of Lucca's sage-there you shall find them.
III
THE A UTHOR TO HIS BOOK
POOR little book, but you're safer here;
Why seek Booksellers' Row-and Fame?
Mistress Rome is a blasee dame,
All her children will gibe and jeer:
Even her babies can sniff and sneer,
Young and old, they are all the same,
Poor little book, but you're safer here,
Why seek Booksellers' Row-and Fame?
They whose applause may seem sincere
Soon will toss you aside to shame.
Think you my pen is too austere?
Go then fly erc it harm and maim,
Poor little book-but you're safer here.
3