Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

MARTIAL'S EPIGRAMS

LXXXI
ON AN ENV'IOUS RIVAL
UNPOLISHED '-so that scribbler sneers,
While he that reads and he that hears,
Approve my little books;
I do not care a single jot,
My fame is for my guests and not
To please my rival cooks.
* LXXXII
A QUICK END
AN astrologer said that you would not last long,
And I really imagine he was not far wrong,
For, wishing to leave not one penny behind,
In a year you have thrown your estate to the wind;
A very nice fortune you've managed to spend,
So I think we may say that you've had a quick end.
LXXXIII
ON A REFORM OF DOMITIA N'S
FAIR were the pageants given in days of yore,
To Caesar owe we deeper obligations;
Our eyes confess they owe him much, far more
Our grateful ears-he banned the recitations!
* LXXXIV
TO NORBANUS
WHILE for our lord with loyalty unstained
The rage of lawless foemen you restrained,
I who your love have e'er my glory made,
Was sporting safely in the Muses' shade.
But when to Rhaetia my poems came,
And the far north was busy with my name,
Never did you our friendship then deny
But ' He's my own, my comrade,' oft would cry.
Soon may the author read to your kind ears
All you have heard about in these six years.
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