English

This mighty god in shape of bronze so small,
Whose lion's skin upon the stones doth fall,
While to the stars he looks with upturned face
Holding in either hand a cup and mace,
No Roman work or fresh in fame is he,
Lysippus' gift and handicraft you see.
This god the board of Pella's monarch showed
Ere death came quickly in the world subdued;
By him young Hannibal at the altars swore;
He bade fierce Sulla to lay down his power.
Now from the threats of courts he holds aloof
And gladly dwells beneath a private roof,

When Diodorus sailed from Egypt's shore
His prize to take at Rome, Philaenis swore,
If he returned, she'ld give him that sweet kiss
Which even Sabine matrons know is bliss.
His ship was wrecked, but through the raging main
He swam to land her promise to obtain.
Yet even so he seems a laggard spouse:
I'ld ne'er embark if my girl made such vows.

You play, Agathinus, a most risky game,
But you can't get your buckler to fall all the same;
When you shun it, it follows, returning through air,
And lights on your finger-tips, foot, back, or hair.
The stage may be wet with the red saffron rain,
And the boisterous wind make all awnings seem vain,
But unheeded it runs o'er the boy's careless limbs
Not baffled by showers or the breeze's mad whims.
Though you try to go wrong you can't do it at all;
It will need all your skill if the shield is to fall.

The Phrygian youth, delight of the other Jove,
Had seen our Emperor's darling from above
With hair new-shorn, and cried, " Great ruler, now
Grant me what Caesar doth his boy allow.
Down's on my cheeks concealed beneath these locks,
And Juno calls me man and jeers and mocks."
To him — " My sweetest boy," the Sire replied,
" Your wish by facts and not by me is denied.
Our Caesar has a thousand boys like thee;
His palace scarce can hold their company.
But if shorn hair should give thee a man's face,

In the baths what is now the most pleasing diversion
Is to go and see Maro displaying his person.

Give me the girl who's always willing,
Who can suffice for lovers three,
Whose price complete is just one shilling,
Who gives my man what she gives me.
Let Frenchmen in their arms enfold
Fine ladies with their silks and all,
They care for nothing else but gold,
Give me the girl who wears a shawl.

V ELIUS , what time he hastened to the wars,
For our great Caesar vowed a goose to Mars.
The moon had scarce eight times in circle met
When lo, the god claimed payment of the debt.
The bird rejoicing to the altar came
And fell a humble victim in the flame.
See those eight coins that hang from out its beak:
'Twould say — " For this I hid them" — could it speak,
When victims thus with silver truth reveal,
They show us, Sire, there is no need for steel.

I AM Latinus, darling of the stage,
The applause, the pride, the wonder of my age,
Who could have wooed stern Cato to the play,
And made Fabricius laugh his cares away.
Naught from the theatre did my morals take,
And only in a farce was I a rake.
Virtue you need our master's grace to win;
He is a god who sees the heart within.
" A parasite of Phoebus" — as you will:
But let Rome know I served her great Jove still.

If we gaze at your Hyllus as he passes by,
You look at your guests with a most troubled eye.
What crime is it in a fair boy to delight?
Don't the sun and the gods and the stars please our sight?
Shall I turn my eyes from him and hide my face up,
As though 'twere a Gorgon presenting my cup.
Even savage Alcides let Hylas be seen,
And Ganymede sports with young Hermes, I ween.
To your table you'd better blind Oedipus call,
If you don't want your minions to be viewed at all.

Who carved our master's bust from Latin stone
And so the Phidian ivory outshone?
'Tis Jove's own face; nay 'tis the world we see:
So the god thunders when from clouds he's free.
Athena gave thee more than that one crown;
She too this worshipped image once did own.