Say , gown, most welcome gift from learned friend,
To what famed flock dost thou new glory lend?
Did the Apulian herbage for thee bloom
Where once Phalanthus had his Spartan home
And dark Galaesus with Calabrian tide
Brings riches to the teeming country-side?
Dost come from many-mouthed Timarus' bank
Whose waters Castor's noble charger drank,
Or did my Spanish Baetis wash thee too
When thou wert wool on some Hesperian ewe?
No Spartan dye thy whiteness might decrease,
Nor was Miletus worthy of thy fleece,
Than lilies and young privet brighter still
And ivory on Tibur's glorious hill.
Nor swan nor pigeon can compare with thee
Nor pearls fished up from Erythraean sea.

Yet though his gift is fairer than the snow
Parthenius is yet more fair, I trow.
No Babylonian robe could match with this
Though it were broidered by Semiramis,
Nor should I more the golden fleece admire
If Phryxus gave it me for my attire.
Oh how absurd my poor old cloak has grown,
Which I must wear with this palatial gown.