Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

BOOK ELEVEN

When ripe the crop, fell Procne down may flit
And in her nest may garner all of it;
If it escape her ravening claws and bill,
An empty snail-shell it may chance to fill;
Priapus' figure may not here abide,
Shorn of his staff, he could not get inside;
Then for the wine, in place of cask or butt,
We store the vintage in a pitch-dressed nut;
To call the place a field is quite absurd,
Take out or change two letters of the word,
Change L to E, omit the second letter,
And give me the result, 'twould suit me better.
* XIX
TO GALLA
You ask why I will not a learned wife take?
Too often a ' mentulae lapsus ' I make.
XX
THE POET'S MODEL
You carping knave who hate my frankness, note
These merry verses that Augustus wrote:
' Since Fulvia's lord to Glycera transfers
His love, to me has Fulvia proffered hers;
Must I be proxy then, or if he plead
Play Jove with Manius for a Ganymede.
" 'Tis love or war ", says Fulvia. Be it so
No hireling will I be. Blow, Trumpet, blow! '
So Caesar wrote-plain words and merry witBut when I follow, you object to it.
XXI
LYDIA tam laxa est equitis quam culus aeni,
Quam celer arguto qui sonat aere trochus,
Quam rota transmisso totiens inpacta petauro,
Quam uetus a crassa calceus udus aqua,
Quam quae rara uagos expectant retia turdos,
Quam Pompeiano uela negata Noto.
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