Ah Censorinus! to my comrades trueRich cups, rare bronzes, gladly would I send:Choice tripods from Olympia on each friendWould I confer, choicer on none than you,Had but my fate such gems of art bestow'dAs cunning Scopas or Parrhasius wrought,This with the brush, that with the chisel taughtTo image now a mortal, now a god.