the shade of the
vine, [are offered] to me. Sometimes, (but keep silent as to this) even the
bearded he-goat, and the horny-footed nanny sprinkle my altar with blood;
for which honours Priapus is bound in return to do everything [which lies
in his duty], and to keep strict guard over the little garden and vineyard
of his master. Wherefore, abstain, O lads, from your evil pilfering here.
Our next neighbour is rich and his Priapus is negligent. Take from him;
this path then will lead you to his grounds.

XX.

Ego haec ego arte fabricata rustica,
Ego arida, o viator, ecce populus
Agellulum hunc, sinistra, tute quem vides,
Herique villulam, hortulumque pauperis
Tuor, malasque furis arceo manus. 5
Mihi corolla picta vero ponitur:
Mihi rubens arista sole fervido:
Mihi virente dulcis uva pampino:
Mihique glauca duro oliva frigore.
Meis capella delicata pascuis 10
In urbem adulta lacte portat ubera:
Meisque pinguis agnus ex ovilibus
Gravem domum remittit aere dexteram:
Tenerque, matre mugiente, vaccula
Deum profundit ante templa sanguinem. 15
Proin', viator, hunc Deum vereberis,
Manumque sorsum habebis hoc tibi expedit.
Parata namque crux, sine arte mentula.
Velim pol, inquis: at pol ecce, villicus
Venit: valente cui revulsa brachio 20
Fit ista mentula apta clava dexterae.

XX.

TO PRIAPUS.

I thuswise fashioned by rustic art
And from dried poplar-trunk (O traveller!) hewn,
This fieldlet, leftwards as thy glances fall,
And my lord's cottage with his pauper garth
Protect, repelling thieves' rapacious hands. 5
In spring with vari-coloured wreaths I'm crown'd,
In fervid summer with the glowing grain,
Then with green vine-shoot and the luscious bunch,
And glaucous olive-tree in bitter cold.
The dainty she-goat from my pasture bears 10
Her milk-distended udders to the town:
Out of my sheep-cotes ta'en the fatted lamb
Sends home with silver right-hand heavily charged;
And, while its mother lows, the tender calf
Before the temples of the Gods must bleed. 15
Hence of such Godhead, (traveller!) stand in awe,
Best it befits thee off to keep thy hands.
Thy cross is ready, shaped as artless yard;
"I'm willing, 'faith" (thou say'st) but 'faith here comes
The boor, and pluckin