Publisht appears when now nine of his winters be gone;Thousands fifty of lines meanwhile Hortensius in single"Zmyrna" shall travel afar as the hollow breakers of Satrax,"Zmyrna" by ages grey lastingly shall be perused.But upon Padus' brink shall die Volusius his annalsAnd to the mackerel oft loose-fitting jacket afford.Dear to my heart are aye the lightest works of my comrade,Leave I the mob to enjoy tumidest Antimachus.
TO CALVUS ANENT DEAD QUINTILIA.If to the dumb deaf tomb can aught or grateful or pleasing(Calvus!) ever accrue rising from out of our dule,Wherewith yearning desire renews our loves in the bygone,And for long friendships lost many a tear must be shed;Certès, never so much for doom of premature death-dayMust thy Quintilia mourn as she is joyed by thy love.
ON AEMILIUS THE FOUL.Never (so love me the Gods!) deemed I 'twas preference matterOr Aemilius' mouth choose I to smell or his . . . .Nothing is this more clean, uncleaner nothing that other,Yet I ajudge . . . . cleaner and nicer to be;For while this one lacks teeth, that one has cubit-long tushes,Set in their battered gums favouring a muddy old box,Not to say aught of gape like wide-cleft gap of a she-muleWhenas in summer-heat wont peradventure to stale.Yet has he many a motte and holds himself to be handsome—