Short Poems

At your board on your birthday the senate reclines,
And many a knight in your company dines.
Each guest gets a crown when the banquet is done:
And yet people say you are nobody's son.

If Mucius, when you saw him yesterday,
His hand within the fire boldly lay,
Seemed to you brave and valiant and strong,
Then to Abdera's people you belong.
For when the torturer says—‘Thrust in your hand’.
The brave man's he who hears not the command.

If ‘promise’ and ‘give’ mean exactly the same,
Though you never hand over, I'll play your own game,
Please accept all the ore of Asturia's mines
And the rich golden sand that old Tagus refines,
Accept all the pearls that in India rest,
And the wealth that the phoenix conceals in his nest,
Accept the wet purple that Tyrians store,
Accept all the world—but in promise, no more.

From Cupid Afer stole a dart
And with it pierced a maiden's heart.
It's true her dowry fanned love's flame;
But then friend Afer knows the game.

You say you're my friend, but you never will lend
E'en a trifle: it's always ‘No, No’!
Your coffers are brimming, your Nile-fields are swimming
With plenty, while I hungry go.
When winter draws nigh do you ever supply
Me with gown, or a fat present make?
No proof can I find of your friendship but wind:
And that in my face you will break.

So soft on your cheeks is the shadowy down
That it fades with a breath in the breeze or the sun.
Such a delicate bloom as on quinces oft lingers
That shine when they're plucked by a maiden's soft fingers.
And if too repeated my kisses I press
On your lips, a new beard springs up from my caress.

You search the vaults of Gaul for doctored wine,
Jars mellowed (save the mark!) in smoky heat,
Across the sea this poison you consign
At vast expense your luckless friends to cheat;
The price of it would buy Falernian sweet,
With this would Setine vineyards be content,
And far from home you work lest you should meet
And have to drink the filthy wine you sent.

May the gods grant thee, Sire, thy due reward,
Who dost the rights of injured patrons guard.
That they should not by freedmen exiled be,
And make thee blessed for perpetuity.
But clients also know thee for their friend
Prepared to their just claims thy help to lend.
Thou dost deserve, and hast, the power to aid:
May it be thine to prove these words I've said.

Eight ounce of pepper! I'm sorry to state,
Instead of a pound of good bright silver-plate.
I will not disparage your kindness, my lord:
But pepper, at that price, I cannot afford.

Your close-sheeted tables may be very fine,
But, if you cannot see them, so likewise are mine.