F. Myself at top, then Viscus, and below
Was Varius:  after us came Balatro,
Vibidius also, present at the treat
Unasked, as members of Maecenas’ suite. 
Porcius and Nomentanus last, and he,
Our host, who lay betwixt them, made the three: 
Porcius the undermost, a witty droll,
Who makes you laugh by swallowing cheesecakes whole: 
While Nomentanus’ specialty was this,
To point things out that vulgar eyes might miss;
For fish and fowl, in fact whate’er was placed
Before us, had, we found, a novel taste,
As one experiment sufficed to show,
Made on a flounder and a turbot’s roe. 
Then, turning the discourse to fruit, he treats
Of the right time for gathering honey-sweets;
Plucked when the moon’s on wane, it seems they’re red;
For further details see the fountain-head. 
When thus to Balatro Vibidius:  “Fie! 
Let’s drink him out, or unrevenged we die;
Here, bigger cups.”  Our entertainer’s cheek
Turned deadly white, as thus he heard him speak;
For of the nuisances that can befall
A man like him, your toper’s worst of all,
Because, you know, hot wines do double wrong;
They dull the palate, and they edge the tongue. 
On go Vibidius and his mate, and tilt
Whole flagons into cups Allifae-built: 
We follow suit:  the host’s two friends alone
Forbore to treat the wine-flask as their own.

A lamprey now appears, a sprawling fish,
With shrimps about it swimming in the dish. 
Whereon our host remarks:  “This fish was caught
While pregnant:  after spawning it is naught. 
We make our sauce with oil, of the best strain
Venafrum yields, and caviare from Spain,
Pour in Italian wine, five years in tun,
While yet ’tis boiling; when the boiling’s done,
Chian suits best of all; white pepper add,
And vinegar, from Lesbian wine turned bad. 
Rockets and elecampanes with this mess
To boil, is my invention, I profess: 
To put sea-urchins in, unwashed as caught,
‘Stead of made pickle, was Curtillus’ thought.”

Meantime the curtains o’er the table spread
Came tumbling in a heap from overhead,
Dragging withal black dust in whirlwinds, more
Than Boreas raises on Campania’s floor: 
We, when the shock is over, smile to see
The danger less than we had feared ’twould be,
And breathe again.  Poor Rufus drooped his head
And wept so sore, you’d think his son was dead: 
And things seemed hastening to a tragic end,
But Nomentanus thus consoled his friend: 
“O Fortune, cruellest of heavenly powers,
Why make such game of this poor life of ours?”
Varius his napkin to his mouth applied,
A laugh to stifle, or at least to hide: 
But Balatro, with his perpetual sneer,
Cries, “Such is life, capricious and severe,
And hence it comes that merit never gains
A meed of praise proportioned to its pains. 
What gross injustice! just that I may get