A COUNTERBLAST AGAINST GARLIC
| May the man who has cruelly murdered his sire— A crime to be punished with death— Be condemned to eat garlic till he shall expire Of his own foul and venomous breath! What stomachs these rustics must have who can eat This dish that Canidia made, Which imparts to my colon a torturous heat, And a poisonous look, I'm afraid! They say that ere Jason attempted to yoke The fire-breathing bulls to the plow He smeared his whole body with garlic,—a joke Which I fully appreciate now. When Medea gave Glauce her beautiful dress, In which garlic was scattered about, It was cruel and rather low-down, I confess, But it settled the point beyond doubt. On thirsty Apulia ne'er has the sun Inflicted such terrible heat; As for Hercules' robe, although poisoned, 't was fun When compared with this garlic we eat! Mæcenas, if ever on garbage like this You express a desire to be fed, May Mrs. Mæcenas object to your kiss, And lie at the foot of the bed! |
AN EXCUSE FOR LALAGE
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To bear the yoke not yet your love's submissive neck is
bent, To share a husband's toil, or grasp his amorous intent; Over the fields, in cooling streams, the heifer longs to go, Now with the calves disporting where the pussy-willows grow. Give up your thirst for unripe grapes, and, trust me, you shall learn How quickly in the autumn time to purple they will turn. Soon she will follow you, for age steals swiftly on the maid; And all the precious years that you have lost she will have paid. Soon she will seek a lord, beloved as Pholoe, the coy, Or Chloris, or young Gyges, that deceitful, girlish boy, Whom, if you placed among the girls, and loosed his flowing locks, The wondering guests could not decide which one decorum shocks. |