Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

MARTIAL'S EPIGRAMS
A tailor's kiss is hardly bliss; one loves not hairy throats
Of farmers who convey to you a hint-and more-of goats;
By fullers next your sense is vexed, then hastens to your side
The cobbler, he, apparently, has just been kissing hideNow you shall brave a blear-eyed knave: none show you
any pity,
And then will come the very scum and refuse of the city;
The loathly crew so harries you, until you cry ' Alack,
Would I have stayed afar nor paid this price for coming back'!
LX
ON HIS BIRTHDA Y
'TWAS on thy morn, thou feast beloved of Mars,
That first I saw the lord of all the stars,
Now on green altars round my rustic home
I pay the dues erstwhile I paid in Rome;
Forgive the change; I cannot live a slave,
But would enjoy the life my Kalends gave.
In Rome my birthday made me pale with fear:' Alauda loves neat wine-but is it clear
And duly strained? And has Sabellus got
Mulled wine enough? I know he likes it hot '.
Between the courses ever on the run,
Receiving or attending every one,
My share of dinner I must sacrifice
To trot about a floor as cold as ice;
But why for casual guest endure a pain
Which valued patrons would demand in vain?
LXI
TO LIGURRA
So you pretend to fear you may be hit
By pointed epigrams, the shafts of wit?
To seem a worthy foeman you aspire,
How vain alike the fear and the desire!
Against fierce bulls the lion's wrath may rise,
He scorns to war with puny butterflies;
You want a record? Seek the sots who scrawl,
With chalk or charcoal, filth upon a wall:
But should I deign to brand so foul a knave,
Good heavens! you might be taken for my slave.
392