Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

MARTIAL'S EPIGRAMS
LXVIII
TO A SCHOOLMASTER
ACCURSED Pedagogue, why plague me so?
Your girls and boys abhor you-and no wonderBefore the crested cocks begin to crow
Your savage howls and blows resound like thunder.
The clanging figure noisy blacksmiths fit
On a bronze horse with rivet and with hammer,
The howling mob that greets the favourite
In the arena cannot match your clamour.
A broken night is naught: to lie awake
The whole night through is really appalling;
Shut up the school or tell me if you'll take
As much for silence as you get for bawling.
LXIX
CUMI futuis, Polycharme, soles in fine cacare.
Cum pedicaris, quid, Polycharme, facis?
LXX
TO CAECILIANUS
OF old '0 Times, 0 Manners,' Tully cried,
In Catiline's foul days with treason rife,
When swords were red with parricidal strife,
And mourning Rome with civic blood was dyed.
Why mock our times to-day, and why deride
Our manners? Is not ours a happy life
That fears nor maddened chief nor murderous knife?
No degradation this our age doth rue,
No leprous taint of shame-excepting you.
* LXXI
A STRANGE PARTNERSHIP
AN African lion has partner become
With a jolly old ram, and they live in one home.
You may see them yourself, for together they're tied
And like trusty friends take their meals side by side.
284