DEMOCRITUS JUNIOR TO HIS BOOK
PARAPHRASTIC METRICAL TRANSLATION.
Go forth my book into the open day;
Happy, if made so by its garish eye.
O'er earth's wide surface take thy vagrant way,
To imitate thy master's genius try.
The Graces three, the Muses nine salute,
Should those who love them try to con thy lore.
The country, city seek, grand thrones to boot,
With gentle courtesy humbly bow before.
Should nobles gallant, soldiers frank and brave
Seek thy acquaintance, hail their first advance:
From twitch of care thy pleasant vein may save,
May laughter cause or wisdom give perchance.
Neatly put, Robert!
(Ooh, I do like a nice paraphrastic metrical translation: it's the best sort, don't you think?)