Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

BOOK TEN

XLI
TO PROC ULEIA
You left your honoured spouse on New Year's day
And claimed your dowry back; what sudden strain
Has burst the bond? What is the quarrel pray?
I know the reason you will not explain;
His proper state as Praetor to maintain
A thousand pounds or so he must disburse,
However meanly done be Rhea's show;
And on the public games to make it worse
Two hundred more-no matrimonial woe
You urge, but fear that he should wrong your purse.
* XLII
TO DIND YM US
So soft on your cheeks is the shadowy down
That it fades with a breath in the breeze or the sun.
Such a delicate bloom as on quinces oft lingers
That shine when they're plucked by a maiden's soft fingers.
And if too repeated my kisses I press
On your lips, a new beard springs up from my caress.
XLIII
A PRODUCTIVE ESTATE
SEVEN wives you've had and all of them lie buried in your
field;
I don't suppose that any land could boast more rich a yield.
* XLIV
TO QUINTUS OVIDIUS
DEAR Ovid, who to Caledonia's snow
And Tethys and old Ocean now must go,
Leaving Nomentum and King Numa's heights
And that warm hearth in which your age delights,
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