Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

MARTIAL'S EPIGRAMS

THE HAPPY MlEAN
FLACCUS, no scraggy maid for me
To whom a finger-ring would be
A bracelet, one whose hip and knee
Might prick like any pin.
A jagged saw-like spine I shun,
And yet I do not like a ton
Of solid blubber, give me one
Who's neither fat nor thin.
* CI
TO FLACCUrS
JANE is so thin that if, as you declare,
You see her, you can see what is not there.
CII
TO LYDIA
THEY told me you were lovely-yes,
The word is true, the judgment just,
While you are silent, motionless
As pictured form or waxen bust;
Your speech turns love to sheer disgust.
Your face it mars, your charm it balks;
Beware the aedile, all mistrust
The omen if a statue talks.
* CIII
TO SAFRONIUS
So modest arc you both in looks and life,
I wonder how you ever knew your wife.
366