"End of the fifth and last book on The Materia Medica.
[The Book] of Pedanius Dioscorides on the Materia Medica."
We have followed the text of Karl Gotleib Kuhn. Medicorum Graecorum, opera quae extant. Lepzig, 1829.
Among the fantastic trifles, with which Dean Swift was accustomed to amuse his leisure, is a little string of verses on this subject which are appended, not as being of any poetic merit, but as a "curiosity of literature"—not out of place here:—
On Ink.
I am jet black, as you may see,
The son of pitch and gloomy night;
Yet all who know me will agree
I'm dead, except I live in light,
Sometimes in panegyric high,
Like lofty Pindar, I can soar,
And raise a virgin to the sky,
Or sink her to a * * * * *
My blood this day is very sweet,
To-morrow of a bitter juice;
Like milk, 'tis cried about the street
And so applied to different use.
Most wondrous is my magic power:
For with one color I can paint.
I'll make the devil a saint this hour,
Next make a devil of a saint.
Through distant regions I can fly,
Provide me with but paper wings,
And fairly show a reason why
There should be quarrels among kings.
