Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

MARTIAL'S EPIGRAMS

Dully the oxen toil
On harsh and barren soil
That yields no treasure.
But fat and fruitful earth
Turns weariness to mirth
And toil to pleasure.
CVIII
TO GALLUS
FAIR is your stately house across the river,
Long be it yours to flourish all your days.
But now with years my feeble footsteps quiver,
And far my garret by Agrippa's bays.
If in the early morn I come to greet you,
A long and weary journey I must take,
Fain would I travel further yet to meet you
And count the toil as naught for friendship's sake.
One client less can give you little sorrow,
'Tis much to me if I withhold your due;
And so I send my book to say good-morrow,
Ere at a later hour I come to you.
* CIX
ON A LITTLE DOG
CATULLUS of a sparrow sung:
But Issa's neater.
A kiss is sweet from ringdove's tongue:
But Issa's sweeter.
She's nicer than the nicest girl,
She's dearer than the dearest pearl;
No pet can beat her.
Whene'er she whines, you'd think that she
Was talking sadly.
Sometimes she cries, sometimes in glee
She barks out gladly.
And when she needs herself to ease,
She lifts her paw and says-' Sir, please,
I want to badly.'
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