University of Virginia Library

Lib. 8.

Ad Librum suum, Epig. 1.

Thou that art entring the tryumphant Court,
Learn with a blushing grace more chast to sport.
Strip'd Uenus hence: this is not thy book,
Great Cæsar's goddess come, and on me look.

Ad Cæsarem Domitianum, Epig. 4.

How great a concourse of the world doth bring
Their Iô? and make prayers for their king?
But this is not alone a humane joy,
Cæsar, the gods themselves keep Holy-day.

In Cinnam, Epig. 7.

Cinna is this to plead? and wisely say
Only nine words in ten hours of the day?
But with a mighty voyce thou cravest for thee
The hour-glass twice two times revers'd to bee,
Cinna, how great's thy taciturnitie!

Ad Quinctum, Epig. 9.

Nine ounces blear-ey'd Hylas would have payd
Now dusk he tenders half thy debt delayd:
Take his next offer: gain's occasion's short,
If he prove blinde, thou wilt have nothing for't.

De Basso, Epig. 10.

Bassus bought cloaks of the best Tyrian dy,
Forbear ten thousand pieces, gaind thereby:
But was his bargain so good cheap you'le say?
He took it upon trust, or stole't away.

Ad Priscum, Epig. 12.

Dost ask why I'de not marry a rich wife?
I'le not be subject in that double strife.
Let matrons to their heads inferior be
Else man and wife have no equalitie.

De Cinna, Epig. 19.

Cinna would seem to need,
And so he does indeed.

Ad Luciferum, Epig. 21.

Phosphor produce the day: why dost delay
Our joys? lo, Cæsar comes, produce the day.
Rome begs it. What slow Chariot carryes thee?
What signe? that thy sweet rayes retarded bee?
Take Cyllaron from the Ledæan Star,
Castor himself will lend his Horse for war,
Why dost rein in the forward eager Sun?
Apollo's Courser with their harness on,
Aurora waites: but yet the spangled night
Will not give room to the more glorious light,
Diana longs to see the Ausonian king,
Come Cæsar, though in night, thy presence bring:
For though the Stars their revolution stay,
Thee coming we shall never want a day.

Ad Cæsarem Domitianum, Epig. 24.

If I in fear chance to petition thee,
If I'me not impudent, vouchsafe it mee.
If thou'lt not grant, daign to be askd in love,
Incense and Prayers ne're offended Jove.
‘He that an Image frames in gold or stone,
‘Makes not a god, he that kneels, makes it one.

In Oppianum, Epig. 25.

Oppiane thou only once didst come to see
Me very sick: I'le oftner visit thee.

Ad Gaurum, Epig. 27.

Gaurus he that doth gifts bestow
On thee both rich and old,
If thou art wise thou needs must know
Hee'd have thee dead and cold.

In pessimos Conjuges, Epig. 35.

When that yee are so like in life
An extream wicked man and wife,
I wonder how you live in strife.

Ad Priapum, Epig. 40.

No Guardian of a Garden, or vine bud,
But (my Priapus) of a mighty wood,
From whence th'art born, and again born mayst bee,
I charge thee keep all thievish hands from me.
Preserve thy Masters grove for firing too,
For if that faile, we shall finde wood in you.

Ad Faustinum, Epig. 41.

Sad Athenagoras us no presents sent
Which in the winter he did still present:
I'le see (Faustinus) if he be so sad,
I'm sure he me hath truly sorry made.

Ad Cestum Puerum, Epig. 46.

How sweet's thy vertue, and thy shape to us?
Cestus my Boy, chast as Hippolitus!
Diana's self may teach, and swim with thee,
More wish'd then Phrygus by old Cybele.
Thou mayst succeed Ganymede in his place,
And unsuspected Smug the Thund'rer's face.
O happy she shall climbe thy tender bed!
And make thee man first for a maiden head!

In variè se tondentem, Epig. 47.

Part of thy hair is shorn, part shaved to thee,
Part pull'd: who'le think it but one head to be.

De Aspro, Epig. 49.

Blinde Asper loves a lass that beauteous is,
Yet as it seems he loves more than he sees.

Ad Cæsarem Domitianum, Epig. 54.

Though thou givest great boons oft, and wilt give more
O King of Kings, and thy self's Conquerour!
The people love thee not cause they partake
Thy Blessings: But thy Blessings for thy sake.

Ad Flaccum, Epig. 56.

When to our age times may subscribe of yore,
And Rome's encreased great with her Emperour,
Dost wonder Maro's fancy wanting is?
And none sound wars like that brave Trump of his?
Let patrons (Flaccus) Poets soon will bee,
Thy Country shall yield Uirgil unto thee.
When near Cremona Tytirus did weep
His wretched acres, and loss'd flock of sheep
The royal Tuscan smiled: Fell poverty
Repuls'd, and by command away to fly:
Bad him be rich, and best of Poets bee,
And cryed my sweet Alexis love with mee.
He that most amiable did waiting stand
Filling black falerne wine with snowy hand,
And tasted cups gave to his rosie lip,
Which might solicite Jove himselfe to sip.
Course Galatea from the Poet drops,
And Sun-burnt Thestilis in harvest crops.
Forthwith he fancied Rome, arms, and the Prince:
Which the poor Gnat mournd but a moment since.
What should I quote the Uari? Marsi? and
The glorious names of Poets rich in land?
Which to recfunt would be a tedious pain?
Shall I then be thy Virgil, if again
Thou wilt Mæcenas bounty shew to mee?
I'le not thy Virgil, but thy Marsus bee.

De Picente, Epig. 57.

Old Picens had three teeth which from him come
As he sat coughing hard over his Tombe:
Which fragments he tooke up into his brest
Dropd from his mouth: Then laid his bones to rest.
Least that his Heire should not them safely see
Interr'd: He did himself the curtesie.

Ad Entellum, Epig. 68.

Oh that the famed Alcinous garden sees
May well prefer (Entellus) thine to his.
Least nipping winter peirce the purple grapes,
And on the Vines smart Frosts commit their rapes.
Thy vintage in a gem inclosed lyes,
And the Grape cover'd, not hid from our eyes.
So female shapes shine through their Tifanie,
And Pibbles in the waters numbred bee,
What would not nature free, to wit, impart?
When winter's made an Autumn by thy art.

In Uacerram, Epig. 69.

Thou only dost admire old Poets past,
And praisest none but such have writ their last:
Hence I beseech (Uacerra) pardon mee,
Tis not worth perishing to humor thee.

Ad Liberum amicum, Epig. 77.

(Liber) thy friends sweet care! worthy to bee
Crownd with Rose-buds to all eternitie!
Art wise? still let thy hair with unguents flow!
While flowry garlands compasse in thy brow!
May thy clear glass with falerne wine black prove!
And thy soft bed growe warme with softer love!
A life thus led, though in its youth resign'd,
Is made much longer than it was design'd.

In Fabullum, Epig. 79.

When wrinckled Beldames thy familiars bee,
Or filthy Bauds, or worse if ought you see,
When these compagnions thou dost leade a-long
Through every Feast with thee, and walke, and throng,
(Fabulla) thus compared we needs must say
Th'art handsome and dost bear the bell a-way.