Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

BOOK TWELVE

* LXII
THE WELCOME HOME
KING of the former world and ancient sky
With whom no toil disturbed tranquillity,
No bolt fell fierce to punish men for sin,
And earth unriven kept her gold within,
Come, Saturn, to thine own repast of joy
Which Priscus gives to greet his darling boy.
For thou, kind Sire, hast made him safely come
In this sixth winter from old Numa's home.
Seest thou the lavish honours to thee paid,
How like a Roman mart the feast is made
With plenteous cheer and tokens on the board
Which shall a goodly store of gifts afford,
And how to give such worth a greater price
A careful father makes thee sacrifice.
Do thou then, Sire, in this thy bright December
Grant that such days we ever may remember.
LXIII
ON 4 CORDOVA.4N PLAGIARIST
CORDOVA, your store of rich olives is more
Than even Venafrum can boast,
You can vie with the best that are brought from Trieste
Or the groves of the Istrian coast;
Though Tarentum declare that her fleeces are fair
And unrivalled in texture and tone,
Yet they borrow their hue-but more honest are you
And content to exhibit your own;
So your fame you should guard by reproving your bard
Who is stealing my verse. I confess
That I should not much mind were his own of a kind
That would give me a chance of redress!
But a bachelor's free from reprisals, if he
Run away with your wife, for he's not one,
And ' eye for an eye' one can hardly apply
To a culprit unless he has got one;
So a robber may feel more incitement to steal
When there's nothing at all in his purse,
And your poet obscure may be perfectly sure
That no other will pilfer his verse.
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