Bacchus often is wont with a moderate bunch to be sated,When the deep brim-full vats hardly the must shall contain;So when the threshing-floors all fail for the plentiful harvestCeres' ringlets to crown only one garland we bring.Thou too, a minor god, example borrow from the major--Though few apples we give, take thou our gift in good part.

E, D, an thou write, conjoining the two with a hyphen,What middle D would bisect this shall be painted to view.

Who could believe my words? 'Tis shame to confess that the sickleYon thief-folk have availed e'en from my fingers to thieve.Nor doth its loss so much affect my mind or dishonourAs the just, natural dread other my weapons to lose,