No More Learning

ON THE VIBENII--BATH-THIEVES.

Oh, best of robbers who in Baths delight,
Vibennius, sire and son, the Ingle hight,
(For that the father's hand be fouler one
And with his anus greedier is the Son)
Why not to banishment and evil hours 5
Haste ye, when all the parent's plundering powers
Are public knowledge, nor canst gain a Cent
Son! by the vending of thy piled vent.

O, chiefest of pilferers, baths frequenting, Vibennius the father and his
pathic son (for with the right hand is the sire more in guilt, and with his
backside is the son the greedier), why go ye not to exile and ill hours,
seeing that the father's plunderings are known to all folk, and that, son,
thou can'st not sell thine hairy buttocks for a doit?

XXXIIII.

Dianae sumus in fide
Puellae et pueri integri:
_Dianam pueri integri_
Puellaeque canamus.

O Latonia, maximi 5
Magna progenies Iovis,
Quam mater prope Deliam
Deposivit olivam,

Montium domina ut fores
Silvarumque virentium 10
Saltuumque reconditorum
Amniumque sonantum.

Tu Lucina dolentibus
Iuno dicta puerperis,
Tu potens Trivia et notho's 15
Dicta lumine Luna.

Tu cursu, dea, menstruo
Metiens iter annuom
Rustica agricolae bonis
Tecta frugibus exples. 20

Sis quocumque tibi placet
Sancta nomine, Romulique,
Antique ut solita's, bona
Sospites ope gentem.

XXXIIII.

HYMN TO DIANA.

Diana's faith inbred we bear
Youths whole of heart and maidens fair,
Let boys no blemishes impair,
And girls of Dian sing!

O great Latonian progeny, 5
Of greatest Jove descendancy,
Whom mother bare 'neath olive-tree,
Deep in the Delian dell;

That of the mountains reign thou Queen
And forest ranges ever green, 10
And coppices by man unseen,
And rivers resonant.

Thou art Lucina, Juno hight
By mothers lien in painful plight,
Thou puissant Trivia and the Light 15
Bastard, yclept the Lune.
Thou goddess with thy monthly stage,
The yearly march doth mete and guage
And rustic peasant's messuage,
Dost brim with best o' crops, 20

Be hailed by whatso name of grace,
Please thee and olden Romulus' race,
Thy wonted favour deign embrace,
And save with choicest aid.

We, maids and upright youths, are in Diana's care: upright youths and
maids, we sing Diana.

O Latonia, progeny great of greatest Jove, whom thy mother bare 'neath
Delian olive,

That thou mightst be Queen of lofty mounts, of foliaged groves, of remote
glens, and of winding streams.

Thou art called Juno Lucina by the mother in her travail-pangs, thou art
named potent Trivia and Luna with an ill-got light.

Thou, Goddess, with monthly march measuring the yearly course, dost glut
with produce the rustic roofs of the farmer.

Be thou hallowed by whatsoe'er name thou dost prefer; and cherish, with
thine good aid, as thou art wont, the ancient race of Romulus.

XXXV.

Poetae tenero, meo sodali
Velim Caecilio, papyre, dicas,
Veronam veniat, Novi relinquens
Comi moenia Lariumque litus:
Nam quasdam volo cogitationes 5
Amici accipiat sui meique.
Quare, si sapiet, viam vorabit,
Quamvis candida milies puella
Euntem revocet manusque collo
Ambas iniciens roget morari, 10
Quae nunc, si mihi vera nuntiantur,
Illum deperit inpotente amore:
Nam quo tempore legit incohatam
Dindymi dominam, ex eo misellae
Ignes interiorem edunt medullam. 15
Ignosco tibi, Sapphica puella
Musa doctior: est enim venuste
Magna Caecilio incohata mater.

XXXV.

AN INVITATION TO POET CECILIUS.

Now to that tender bard, my Comrade fair,
(Cecilius) say I, "Paper go, declare,
Verona must we make and bid to New
Comum's town-walls and Larian Shores adieu;"
For I determined certain fancies he 5
Accept from mutual friend to him and me.
Wherefore he will, if wise, devour the way,
Though the blonde damsel thousand times essay
Recall his going and with arms a-neck
A-winding would e'er seek his course to check; 10
A girl who (if the truth be truly told)
Dies of a hopeless passion uncontroul'd;
For since the doings of the Dindymus-dame,
By himself storied, she hath read, a flame
Wasting her inmost marrow-core hath burned. 15
I pardon thee, than Sapphic Muse more learn'd,
Damsel: for truly sung in sweetest lays
Was by Cecilius Magna Mater's praise.

To that sweet poet, my comrade, Caecilius, I bid thee, paper, say: that he
hie him here to Verona, quitting New Comum's city-walls and Larius' shore;
for I wish him to give ear to certain counsels from a friend of his and
mine.