Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

BOOK NINE

They don't feed on acorns, nor does grass suffic;
A tender young lamb seems to both very nice.
The Nemean terror and Helle's old ram
Compared with these two were a fraud and a sham.
If a place in the stars should to creatures be given,
Our goat and our lion are worthy of heaven.
LXXII
TO THE BOXER LIBER
A CHAMIPION in the craft that Pollux knew,
A Greek in skill, Roman in might and thew,
You share the name of Bacchus-yet 'tis true
That in the basket I received from you
No jar I found the viands to bedew
Of-you know what-your name should give the clue.
* LXXIII
ON A PARVENU COBBLER
WITH your teeth you were wont on old leather to bite,
And stretch out a sole that was mud-rotten quite,
But now you have got your dead patron's estate,
Who did not possess e'en a garret of late,
And in his bright crystal your hot drink enjoy
While you wanton at ease with his favourite boy.
Oh what a mistake that my fond parents taught
Me my letters, and tutors and schoolmasters sought!
If these are the profits from mending old shoes,
Good-bye books and pens, and adieu to the Muse.
LXXIV
ON A PORTRAIT OF CAMONIUS
HERE may we trace the aspect that he wore
In childhood's hour, the bud but not the flower;
His sire forbore to paint his manhood's grace,
Lest evermore grief should renew her power
Standing before that loved and silent face.
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