Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

BOOK TEN
* XXV
A CIRCUS SCENE
IF Mucius, when you saw him yesterday,
His hand within the fire boldly lay,
Seemed to you brave and valiant and strong,
Then to Abdera's people you belong.
For when the torturer says-' Thrust in your hand ',
The brave man's he who hears not the command.
XXVI
ON THE DEATH OF VARUS
HONOURED of all but yesterday,
Loved of his men and of Egypt's throng,
Now in a stranger land, the prey
Of death, for his coming we vainly long;
O'er that marble face we might not weep,
Not ours with perfume the pyre to steep;
But the traitor Nile cannot take away
The fame that lives in a deathless song.
* XXVII
TO DIODORUS
AT your board on your birthday the senate reclines,
And many a knight in your company dines.
Each guest gets a crown when the banquet is done:
And yet people say you are nobody's son.
XXVIII
THE TEMIPLE OF JANUS
FOUNDER of time and all therein,
With thee our prayers and vows begin,
Janus, thou glorious god,
Too mean of yore was thine abode,
For through thine arch as by a road
Rome's hurrying myriads trod;
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