Martial, : the twelve books of Epigrams,.

MARTIAL'S EPIGRAMS

Wear looks austere, like Priam's Queen
Or such as Hector's consort wore,
And lest a smile should e'er be seen,
No plays or feasts for evermore!
All merriment must thou abhor
With aught that might provoke to it;
The depths of grief must thou explore,
Away with quips and roguish wit,
And rather haunt some house of woe
Where mourning widows sigh and moan,
If mother's tears or sister's flow
Take thou their sorrows for thine own;
Be thine the Tragic muse alone,
And thus a wiser maxim keepHerein is crafty counsel shown —
'If thou be wise, weep, lady, weep.'
* XLII
TO ZOILUS
THE bath-water's fouled when your buttocks you swill.
Just put in your head; 'twill be dirtier still.
* XLIII
TO C4.ANDIDUS
THE proverb goes-' Let friends together profit.'
And this is your interpretation of it.
You sport a toga of Tarentine wool,
Such tufts as from the Parman flocks they pull:
Mine is so old you'd think a bull had torn it,
Or that some scarecrow in the ring had worn it.
Your Tyrian mantle's one of Cadmus own:
My poor red cloak would scarce fetch half-a-crown.
Your marble rounds on Indian ivory rest:
My table's wood and is on drain-pipes pressed.
For you huge mullets lie in golden dish:
I from red earthen plates eat red crawfish.
A troop of pages serve your cevery need:
I help myself and have no Ganymede.
' Profit ' for you: for your poor friend ' starvation.'
That of the proverb's your interpretation.
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