Part 4 (1/2)
A COUNTERBLAST AGAINST GARLIC
May the man who has cruelly murdered his sire-- A crime to be punished with death-- Be condemned to eat garlic till he shall expire Of his own foul and venomous breath!
What stomachs these rustics must have who can eat This dish that Canidia made, Which imparts to my colon a torturous heat, And a poisonous look, I'm afraid!
They say that ere Jason attempted to yoke The fire-breathing bulls to the plow He smeared his whole body with garlic,--a joke Which I fully appreciate now.
When Medea gave Glauce her beautiful dress, In which garlic was scattered about, It was cruel and rather low-down, I confess, But it settled the point beyond doubt.
On thirsty Apulia ne'er has the sun Inflicted such terrible heat; As for Hercules' robe, although poisoned, 't was fun When compared with this garlic we eat!
Maecenas, if ever on garbage like this You express a desire to be fed, May Mrs. Maecenas object to your kiss, And lie at the foot of the bed!
AN EXCUSE FOR LALAGE
To bear the yoke not yet your love's submissive neck is bent, To share a husband's toil, or grasp his amorous intent; Over the fields, in cooling streams, the heifer longs to go, Now with the calves disporting where the p.u.s.s.y-willows grow.
Give up your thirst for unripe grapes, and, trust me, you shall learn How quickly in the autumn time to purple they will turn.
Soon she will follow you, for age steals swiftly on the maid; And all the precious years that you have lost she will have paid.
Soon she will seek a lord, beloved as Pholoe, the coy, Or Chloris, or young Gyges, that deceitful, girlish boy, Whom, if you placed among the girls, and loosed his flowing locks, The wondering guests could not decide which one decorum shocks.
AN APPEAL TO LYCE
Lyce, the G.o.ds have heard my prayers, as G.o.ds will hear the dutiful, And brought old age upon you, though you still affect the beautiful.
You sport among the boys, and drink and chatter on quite aimlessly; And in your cups with quavering voice you torment Cupid shamelessly.
For blooming Chia, Cupid has a feeling more than brotherly; He knows a handsaw from a hawk whenever winds are southerly.
He pats her pretty cheeks, but looks on you as a monstrosity; Your wrinkles and your yellow teeth excite his animosity.
For jewels bright and purple Coan robes you are not dressable; Unhappily for you, the public records are accessible.
Where is your charm, and where your bloom and gait so firm and sensible, That drew my love from Cinara,--a lapse most indefensible?
To my poor Cinara in youth Death came with great celerity; Egad, that never can be said of you with any verity!
The old crow that you are, the teasing boys will jeer, compelling you To roost at home. Reflect, all this is straight that I am telling you.
A ROMAN WINTER-PIECE
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