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

In far Tartessus stands a house renowned,
Where rich Corduba Baetis woos in peace
And western sheep with living gold are crowned
Whose native ore makes pale the yellow fleece.

Within its midst is mighty Caesar's plane
Which as a shoot by his own hand was given.
It seems to know from whom its life began;
So green it grows, so high it springs to heaven.

Oft drunken fauns have sported in its shade
And with their piping roused the house to fear,
Oft have its boughs concealed a Dryad maid
Who felt that Pan was in the darkness near.

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.

A BOUT the Saepta shops Mamurra strolled
Where opulence may squander wealth untold,
And first he viewed fair slaves with gloating eyes,
Not those an open shop will advertise,
No, but the kind reserved for private view
Unseen by common folk like me and you;
He then stripped table-tops of antique make
And ivories kept aloft for safety's sake.
That couch of tortoise-shell inlay was small
And would not fit his citron board at all;
He tried Corinthian bronzes by their scent,
Thought Polycleitus' work indifferent,

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"?

There is nothing worn smoother than Hedylus' cloak:
Not the neck of a mule that has long known the yoke,
Not the handle of some old Corinthian jar,
Not the ramshackle wheel of a slow-moving car,
Not the leg that for ten years a fetter has borne,
Not the hoe that long usage in vineyards has worn,
Not pebbles nor ruts on our northern highway,
Not a pauper's wan toga who's seen his last day,
Not a bison's posterior scraped by the cage,
Not the tusk of a boar savage in his old age;
Yes, there is just one thing: and he will not deny it:

S PENDOPHORUS must on his lord attend
And soon to Libya his way will wend.
Give him, dear Love, a wand and those soft darts
Wherewith thou woundest eager lovers' hearts.
Cuirass and shield and helm I leave to thee,
He will be safe if naked he shall be,
E'en as Parthenopaeus felt no blow
From foemen's dart while they could see his brow.
But whomsoe'er he pierces straight will die
Of love — how happy in death's agony!
O beauty bright, from Africa come home
And grow to manhood here with us in Rome.

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!

If I lived in Picenum and fattened field-fares,
Or a Sabine laid out in the woods my meshed snares:
If a fowler's long rod gained for me its light prey,
Or if birds on limed twigs were for me forced to stay,
Then, Carus, my kinship would give you your due;
Neither brother nor grandsire should come before you.
As it is, o'er my fields only starlings take wing,
And finches and chattering sparrows in spring,
To the magpie's loud call my rough ploughman replies
And the ravening kite flies aloft to the skies.

Q UINTUS , a little birthday gift I planned,
But you refuse and nothing will persuade you;
Well, reconcile my wish and your command
By giving me the gift I should have made you.