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MARCUS MARTIAL.

MARTIAL (MARCUS VALERIUS MARTIALIS), a Latin poet; born at Bilbilis, Spain, about 43; died there about 104. He came to Rome in 66, and seems to have resided there until 100, when he returned to Bilbilis. From Domitian he obtained the jus trium liberorum with the rank of eques and of tribune. He seems to have been intimate with Juvenal, Pliny, Quintilian, Fronto, Silius, and Valerius Flaccus. He inveighs against Nero, but flatters Domitian; after whose death he vilifies his memory, and burns incense to Nerva and Trajan. His works consist of fourteen books, comprising about fifteen hundred Epigrams. There is also a “Liber de Spectaculis," containing epigrams on the games of the amphitheatre. He has been frequently translated into English.

THOU REASON'ST WELL.

THE atheist swears there is no God

And no eternal bliss:

For him to own no world above

Doth make a heaven of this.

NEVER IS, BUT ALWAYS TO BE.

You always say "to-morrow," "to-morrow" you will live;
But that "to-morrow," prithee, say when will it arrive?
How far is 't off? Where is it now? Where shall I go to find it?
In Afric's jungles lies it hid? Do polar icebergs bind it?

It 's ever coming, never here; its years beat Nestor's hollow!
This wondrous thing, to call it mine, I'll give my every dollar!
Why, man, to-day 's too late to live the wise is who begun
To live his life with yesterday, e'en with its rising sun!

TERTIUM QUID.

WHEN poets, croaking hoarse with cold,

VOL. XIV.

To spout their verses seek,

They show at once they cannot hold
Their tongues, yet cannot speak.

-32

SIMILIA SIMILIBUS.

I WONDER not that this sweetheart of thine
Abstains from wine;

I only wonder that her father's daughter
Can stick to water.

CANNIBALISM.

WITHOUT roast pig he never takes his seat:
Always a boor- a boar-companions meet!

EQUALS ADDED TO EQUALS.

You ask why I refuse to wed a woman famed for riches: Because I will not take the veil and give my wife the breeches. The dame, my friend, unto her spouse must be subservient quite : No other way can man and wife maintain their equal right.

THE COOK WELL DONE.

WHY call me a bloodthirsty, gluttonous sinner
For pounding my chef when my peace he subverts?
If I can't thrash my cook when he gets a poor dinner,
Pray, how shall the scamp ever get his deserts?

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EVOLUTION.

- twin personages:

A SURGEON once a sexton now-
Identical professions, only different stages!

VALE OF TEARS.

ALONE she never weeps her father's death;

When friends are by, her tears time every breath.
Who weeps for credit, never grief hath known;
He truly weeps alone, who weeps alone!

SIC VOS NON VOBIS.

Ir that the gods should grant these brothers twain
Such shares of life as Leda's Spartan's led,

A noble strife affection would constrain,

For each would long to die in brother's stead; And he would say who first reached death's confine, "Live, brother, thine own days, and then live mine!"

SILENCE IS GOLDEN.

YOU'RE pretty, I know it; and young, that is true; And wealthy there's none but confesses that too: But you trumpet your praises with so loud a tongue That you cease to be wealthy or pretty or young!

SO NEAR AND YET SO FAR.

YES, New and I both here reside:
Our stoops you see are side by side;

And people think I'm puffed with pride,

And envy me serenely blessed,

With such a man for host and guest.

The fact is this he's just as far

As folks in Borrioboola Gha.

What! booze with him? or see his face,
Or hear his voice? In all the place
There's none so far, there's none so near!
We'll never meet if both stay here!
To keep from knowing New at all,
Just lodge with him across the hall !

THE COBBLER'S LAST.

PREDESTINED for patching and soling,
For fragrance of grease, wax, and thread,

You find yourself squire by cajoling,

When with pigs you should hobnob instead;

And midst your lord's vertu you're rolling,
With liquor and love in your head!
How foolish to send me to college,

To soak up unpractical views!
How slow is the progress of knowledge
By the march of your three-dollar shoes!

BUT LITTLE HERE BELOW.

His grave must be shallow,

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the earth on him light,

Or else you will smother the poor little mite.

E PLURIBUS UNUS.

WHEN hundreds to your parlors rush,
You wonder I evade the crush?

Well, frankly, sir, I'm not imbued
With love of social solitude.

FINE FRENZY.

LONG and Short will furnish verse

To market any fake:

Do poets any longer dream,

Or are they wide-awake?

LIVE WITHOUT DINING.

Now, if you have an axe to grind, or if you mean to spout,
If

your invite is to a spread, then you must count me out:

I do not like that dark-brown flask, I dread the thought of gout,
I'm restless at the gorgeous gorge that ostentation dares.
My friend must offer me pot-luck on wash-days unawares;
I like my feed when his menu with my own larder squares.

TO CALENUS.

(From Epigrams. Translated by Hay.)

WHEN Some time since you had not clear
Above three hundred pounds a year,

You lived so well, your bounty such,

Your friends all wished you twice as much:
Heaven with our wishes soon complied;

In six months four relations died,
But you, so far from having more,
Seem robbed of what you had before;

A greater miser every day,
Live in a cursed, starving way,
Scarce entertain us once a year,

And then not worth a groat the cheer;
Seven old companions, men of sense,
Scarce cost you now as many pence.
What shall we wish you on our part?
What wish can equal your desert?
Thousands a year may heaven grant!
Then you will starve and die for want.

TO HIS BOOK.

(From Epigrams.)

THREE hundred epigrams thou might'st contain, But who, to read so many can sustain ?

Hear what in praise of brevity is said:

First, less expense and waste of paper's made ;
The printer's labor next doth sooner end;
And to more serious works he may attend;
Thirdly, to whomsoe'er thou shalt be read,
Though naught, not tedious yet thou canst be said;
Again, in length, while thou dost not abound,
Thou mayst be heard while yet the cups go round;
And when this caution's used, alas! I fear
To many yet thou wilt too long appear.

ON REGULUS.

(From Epigrams. Translated by Elphinston.)

ON Tibur's road to where Alcides towers,
And hoary Anio smoking sulphur pours;
Where laugh the lawns, and groves to Muses dear,
And the fourth stone bespeaks Augusta near,
An antique porch prolonged the summer shade:
What a new deed her dotage half essayed?
Reeling, herself she threw with instant crash,
Where Regulus scarce passed in his calash.
Sly Fortune started, for herself aware;
Nor could the overwhelming odium bear.
Thus ruins ravish us, and dangers teach,
Still standing piles could no protection preach.

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