Thou thy palace shalt behold,
Bright with ivory and gold;
While each ship that ploughs the main,
Fill'd with Egypt's choicest grain,
Shall unload her pon'drous store,
Thirsty comrade! at thy door.
Ephippos. (Book ii. § 30, p. 79.)
How I delight
To spring upon the dainty coverlets;
Breathing the perfume of the rose, and steep'd
In tears of myrrh!—J. A. St. John.
Alexis. (Book ii. § 44, p. 90.)
Mean my husband is, and poor,
And my blooming days are o'er.
Children have we two,—a boy,
Papa's pet and mamma's joy;
And a girl, so tight and small,
With her nurse;—that's five in all:
Yet, alas! alas! have we
Belly timber but for three!
Two must, therefore, often make
Scanty meal on barley-cake;
And sometimes, when nought appears
On the board, we sup on tears.
My good man, once so strong and hale,
On this fare grows very pale;
For our best and daintiest cheer,
Through the bright half of the year,
Is but acorns, onions, peas,
Ochros, lupines, radishes,
Vetches, wild pears nine or ten,
With a locust now and then.
As to figs, the Phrygian treat,
Fit for Jove's own guests to eat,
They, when happier moments shine,—
They, the Attic figs, are mine.—J. A. St. John.
