Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

MARTIAL'S EPIGRAMS

He knew your eagerness to read
And sacrificed too much to speed.
If me you blame instead of him,
Your intellect must need be dim:
You call me but a feeble poet?
I'm not so dull as not to know it;
My verse is poor, that I admit,
But doubt if you can better it.
IX
A COY MAIDEN
SHE did not answer when I wrote,
Refusal must be meant;
And yet I know she read the noteAnd silence gives consent.
x
TO POSTUM1US
You give me only half a kiss;
All thanks for that; but pray
Grant me a further boon; 'tis thisTake half that half away.
Yet higher should the favour beMere speech its worth profanesIf you would not inflict on me
The quarter that remains.
XI
TO RUFUS
WITH clouded brow and weary gait,
Unheeding though the hour be late,
Doth Selius tramp the portico,
His weary head bowed down with woe:
For grief that scarce can be suppressed
He tears his hair and beats his breast.
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