Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

MARTIAL'S EPIGRAMS

CIII
TO SCAEVOLA
'WOULD heaven I were a millionaire,' you cried,
Ere yet for knighthood you were qualified;
' Well would I lodge and sumptuously fare.'
Then gaily laughed the Gods and heard your prayer.
Yet is your raiment shabbier than before,
Your shoes more patched and clouted than of yore,
Ten wretched olives serve you for a feast,
And out of these you save the half at least,
Two meals from every dish you try to squeeze,
And drink Veientan to its muddy lees,
Two pence a day is all that you expend,
One on cold pulse, one on your lady friend.
Live decently henceforth, you cheating knave,
Or else return to heaven the wealth it gave.
CIV
THE HARE AND THE LIONS
THE spotted pard, although the yoke be slight,
Doth bow his neck thereto; the tiger's might,
For all his rage, is by a rod controlled,
And the wild ass doth champ a curb of gold;
The Libyan bear is guided by a bit,
And monster bisons to the rein submit;
A purple halter guides a mighty boar
Vast as the brute in Calydon of yore;
Obedient to a swarthy master's will
Leviathan displays a dancer's skill!
Who would not deem a miracle was here?
Yet doth a marvel greater still appear.
See how the lordly lions condescend
On swift but timid hares their might to spend;
They catch, set free, and gambol with the prey
That safe within their gaping maw doth play.
Freely the quarry passes to and fro
Through fangs that seem to dread the puny foe;
In sooth 'tis generous shame that doth restrain
The might that late a lordly bull hath slain.
Could human art have taught them pity? Nay,
'Tis Caesar's law of mercy these obey.
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