Here may we trace the aspect that he wore
In childhood's hour, the bud but not the flower;
His sire forbore to paint his manhood's grace,
Lest evermore grief should renew her power
Standing before that loved and silent face.

A CHAMPION in the craft that Pollux knew,
A Greek in skill, Roman in might and thew,
You share the name of Bacchus — yet 'tis true
That in the basket I received from you
No jar I found the viands to bedew
Of — you know what — your name should give the clue.

L ASCIUAM tota possedi nocte puellam,
Cuius nequitias uincere nulla potest.
Fessus mille modis illud puerile poposci:
Ante preces totas primaque uerba dedit.
Inprobius quiddam ridensque rubensque rogaui:
Pollicitast nulla luxuriosa mora.
Sed mihi pura fuit: tibi non erit, Aeschyle, si uis
Accipere hoc munus condicione mala.

Although your wife is young and fair,
You want a father's right to share,
And that by legal fiction;
But what you want of Caesar might
Be yours of ordinary right
Beyond all contradiction.

Our Caesar deigns to take Alcides' face
And with new shrine the Latin Road to grace,
Just where the traveller to Diana's home
Sees by the stone he is eight miles from Rome.
Here Hercules with vows and victims' blood
Was worshipped once: now there's a greater god
Whom men beseech for rank and wealth each day,
And from the other only trifles pray.

'T IS strange that Phoebus dines night after night
With knaves whose deeds could never bear the light!

She flaunts in garments Tyrian dyed
By day and night as well,
'Tis not extravagance or pride,
Oh no — she likes the smell.

Bright garland, whether you from Paestum come,
Or Tibur or Praeneste is your home;
Whether rich Tusculum your blossoms yields,
Or you give fame to fair Campanian fields;
That for Sabinus you may have more charm,
Pretend you come from my Nomentan farm.

Queen of the hallowed lake, with pious care
Sabinus built thy fane that shall endure,
And long may Umbrian hillmen worship there,
Thy townsmen never yield to Baiae's lure;
If these my timid books thy favour share
My Muse shall greet thee as her fountain pure.
Say'st thou, " who gives his book to nymphs to keep
Must own their proper grave is in the deep"?

One brace of birds for Stella, one for you,
Were ready for the " Kinsman's feast" to send,
When rose before my mind a clamorous crew
Of spectres, claiming each to be my friend;
I cannot send to all, to give to two,
As I had purposed, might be to offend;
So, to oblige all round and seem impartial,
I now propose to give both brace to Martial!