O qui flosculus es Iuventiorum, Non horum modo, sed quot aut fuerunt Aut posthac aliis erunt in annis, Mallem divitias Midae dedisses Isti, quoi neque servus est neque arca, 5 Quam sic te sineres ab illo amari. 'Qui? non est homo bellus?' inquies. est: Sed bello huic neque servos est neque arca. Hoc tu quam lubet abice elevaque: Nec servom tamen ille habet neque arcam. 10
TO JUVENTIUS CONCERNING THE CHOICE OF A FRIEND.
O of Juventian youths the flowret fair Not of these only, but of all that were Or shall be, coming in the coming years, Better waste Midas' wealth (to me appears) On him that owns nor slave nor money-chest 5 Than thou shouldst suffer by his love possest. "What! is he vile or not fair?" "Yes!" I attest, "Yet owns this man so comely neither slaves nor chest My words disdain thou or accept at best Yet neither slave he owns nor money-chest." 10
O thou who art the floweret of Juventian race, not only of these now living, but of those that were of yore and eke of those that will be in the coming years, rather would I that thou hadst given the wealth e'en of Midas to that fellow who owns neither slave nor store, than that thou shouldst suffer thyself to be loved by such an one. "What! isn't he a fine-looking man?" thou askest. He is; but this fine-looking man has neither slaves nor store. Contemn and slight this as it please thee: nevertheless, he has neither slave nor store.
Cinaede Thalle, mollior cuniculi capillo Vel anseris medullula vel imula oricilla Vel pene languido senis situque araneoso, Idemque Thalle turbida rapacior procella, Cum diva munerarios ostendit oscitantes, 5 Remitte pallium mihi meum, quod involasti, Sudariumque Saetabum catagraphosque Thynos, Inepte, quae palam soles habere tamquam avita. Quae nunc tuis ab unguibus reglutina et remitte, Ne laneum latusculum manusque mollicellas 10 Inusta turpiter tibi flagella conscribillent, Et insolenter aestues velut minuta magno Deprensa navis in mari vesaniente vento.
Thou bardache Thallus! more than Coney's robe Soft, or goose-marrow or ear's lowmost lobe, Or Age's languid yard and cobweb'd part, Same Thallus greedier than the gale thou art, When the Kite-goddess shows thee Gulls agape, 5 Return my muffler thou hast dared to rape, Saetaban napkins, tablets of Thynos, all Which (Fool!) ancestral heirlooms thou didst call. These now unglue-ing from thy claws restore, Lest thy soft hands, and floss-like flanklets score 10 The burning scourges, basely signed and lined, And thou unwonted toss like wee barque tyned 'Mid vasty Ocean vexed by madding wind!