Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

MARTIAL'S EPIGRAMS

XI
TO PARTHENIUS
Go forth my Muse, salute my friend and thine
Who oft has drunk of thy Pierian spring,
From out thy cave no clearer lyre doth ring
Than his; and Phoebus loves him, and the Nine;
Is he at leisure for thy songs and mine?
Fond hope! give him our humble offering
To lay before the Prince; four words it needs;
Let him say only 'This thy city reads'.
* XII
TO POLLIO
YOU'RE lavish with promises after a bout
Of drinking that lasts all the night;
But when in the morning your friends meet you out,
There's never a penny in sight.
I wish that sometimes you'ld get drunk in the day,
And then what you promise perhaps you would pay.
XIII
TO AUCTUS
THE rich feign wrath-a profitable plan;
'Tis cheaper far to hate than help a man.
* XIV
LOOK BEFORE YOU LEAP
BE careful, Priscus, with your dashing steed;
Such haste against poor hares you do not need.
Oft will the huntsman to his prey atone,
And thrown to earth find all his hunting done.
E'en level ground a rider may ensnare
Though neither ditch nor mound nor stones be there.
Others in plenty may enjoy their fling
Whose death on Fate would not such odium bring;
But if to deeds of valour you must soar,
Let us with safer courage hunt the boar.
Why this rash riding? If you are not stopped
You'll find that you, and not the hares, are chopped.
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