Franklin P. Adams

Capitolo 4

Horace:  You book II, Ode 2

_"Nellus I silver east color avaris."_

Sallust, I know her about old man,
As you hate the gold sight--
"Inactive ingots that encumber
Mother Earth"--I have Your number.

Because it is known Proculeius
From Elmira to Malone?
For his/her money? Don't upset me!
For his/her love of people--you find me?

You suffocate the Rockefellers they have a big desire of
For the jail of men of I fit with iron!
Felicità won't coin us,
Pick him/it up from Your Uncle Quintus.

Elaborate food and rich drink
You raise Gehenna with a gink;
Confectionery, turtle of sweet water and cheeses
You get gout and illnesses of long sea.

Phraates on the throne
Old King Cyrus possessed
He/she doesn't succeed in putting the blinker or to deceive me,
Cyrus was some king, believes me!

Right finds me:  a prince of man's-ransom
He/she knows that money it is an apple quince.
When they sees the Yellow Candy,
Principles of Reg'lar it doesn't go daffy.



Xanthias Jollied

AD XANTHIAM PHOCEUM

Horace:  You book II, Ode 4.

_"Ne sits ancillae tibi love modesties."_


No, Xanthias, feels him without shame
  What her You love is but a servant.
Memoirs, in love far more famous
  It was in the moment in which fervent.

Achilles loved the beautiful slave
  Briseis for his/her clear complexion;
And to Tecmessa Ajax it gave
  His/her young affection.

Because, Agamemnon to the height
  To banquet, triumphs and unction,
Let all hold, a night,
  A small appointment.

And it is you sure the girl You love--
  This houseservant on who you have Your set of heart
It is modest--that she is not of
  The Roman intelligent set?

A young girl modest as it is her,
  So full of the sweetness and the indulgence,
It has to be correct entirely;  its people have to be
  Delicious parents.

His/her arm and it faces me I can praise,
  And, as the writer of a poem,
Me fains would compliment, the old friend,
  The edges under 'the em.

No, is not jealous. You stop Your fears.
  My tendencies are away from sporting.
Besides, the number of my years
  It is on forty.



Horace the Wise man

AD PYRRHAM