Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

BOOK EIGHT
* LXV
DOMITIAN'S BIRTHPLACE
HERE, where Returning Fortune's precincts shine,
Was erst the place where stood our lord divine,
Graced with the noble dust of northern fight
And shedding from his face refulgent light,
While Rome did greet her chief in white array
With voice and hand, her locks enwreathed with bay.
Great is its fame; for here besides there stands
The arch triumphant over conquered lands,
With droves of elephants and chariots twain
Wherein our golden chief doth hold the rein.
This gate, true entry to the War-God's town
Befits thy triumphs, Sire; so all men own.
* LXVI
A NOBLE HOUSE
INCENSE and victims to Augustus bring,
Ye Muses, for your Silius' offering..Now Caesar, Rome's most sure and only ward,
Hath for our poet once again regard,
And bids the lictor strike upon his door
And the twelve axes to his son restore,
So that but one thing waits to crown his joy,
The happy purple for his second boy.
Though Pompey threefold office once obtained,
And great Agrippa triple honours gained,
Yet Silius thinks he the same fame has won
If Janus holds the name of either son.
* LXVII
THE EARLY GUEST
IT is not yet eleven, and yet you have come
Prepared to dine with me in my humble home.
The courts have just finished the first morning session,
And at Flora's games now 'tis the hunter's procession.
Well, well! Call the boys-they had gone up the town
To bathe-spread the couches: my dear friend, sit down.
'Warm water '-you say: nay, the cold's not here yet,The stove has gone out, and the kitchen's all wet.
Come another time sooner and don't till noon wait
For dinner you're early, for breakfast you're late.
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