First a wild-fig-tree trunk was I, not useful as timber,When the mechanic in doubt anent making me stool or PriapusChose me for being a god; so a god to the thieves and the birdiesDirest of dreads I became, my right the robbers restraining,Eke with a ruddy pole from parts obscenely projected,While th' importunate fowls affrights a reed on my head-pollPlanted, and hinders their flock from 'lighting in newly made gardens.Erst to be hither borne from narrow cellules ejectedCorpses by fellow-slaves were coffined in biers of the vilest.This was the common yard to ensepulchre wretched plebeians,Pantolabus the buffoon and Nomentanus the rake-hell.Frontage a thousand feet, three hundred fieldwards, a land markHere assigned, lest the ground monumental follow the heir folk.Now 'tis salubrious made: one fives in th' Esquiliae, alsoWalks on the sunny mound, where erstwhile showed to folk sad-eyedFields by bones deformed a-glistening ghostly and ghastly;Yet for me never was aught, or thieves or ferals accustomedThis foul spot to behaunt, a cause of such care and such troubleAs are the hags who by spells and poisons upset and envenomSpirits and minds of mankind; these nowise bring to perdition