Indeed to fair Eurypyle
The ill-famed Artemon is dear!
Erstwhile he wore a shabby garb —
A turban tightly wound around his head
And wooden ear-rings in his ears,
And round his ribs the bald hide of an ox,
The filthy covering of a shabby shield.
This good-for-nothing Artemon,
Consorting then with cooks and prostitutes,
Picked up a fraudulent livelihood;
His neck was often fastened to the stocks
And often to the torturing wheel;
About his back the whip-lash often curled;
His beard and hair were rudely plucked,
But now he mounts his chariot,
This son of Kyke, decked with golden rings,
And like a woman bears aloft
A sunshade made of ivory!