Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

BOOK ONE
That every light o' love should be
Veiled with a matron's modesty?
These merry songs, to win success,
Need just a touch of wantonness;
A dullard would Priapus be
If made a priest of Cybele.
XXXVI
THE BROTHERS
LUCANUS, Tullus, if the Gods had given
To you the fate of Castor and his brother,
In loving emulation each had striven
To give his life in ransom for the other,
And he the first to seek dark Proserpine
Had said, ' My brother, live thy days and mine.'
* XXXVII
TO BASSUS
YOUR chamber ware is made of gold,
Your drinking-cup of glass is;
'Tis plain that you more precious hold
The food that through you passes.
XXXVIII
TO FIDENTINUS
THE verse is mine but friend, when you declaim it,
It seems like yours, so grievously you maim it.
XXXIX
TO DECIANUS
How few the friends like those in years of yore,
That honest age, but if one such there be
In Hellene culture steeped and Roman lore
Ennobled by a true simplicity,
A soul that Right and Honour hold in fee,
Whose inmost thoughts and vows are void of shame,
Whose giant mind upholds and makes him free,
My life on this-that Decian is his name.
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