"Why is it that the living win

So little fame or praise?

And why do readers not admire

The Work of their own days?"

Well, Regulus, it is the way

of human jealousy

Men always loathe all modern things

and love antiquity

We seek the ancient shade of Pompey's

Ugly portico

And praise the temple of Catullus

We loves its crudeness so

O Rome, you read old Ennius

Though Virgil's works survive

They say that even Homer was

Ridiculed while alive

Laureled Menander rarely had

Much honor given to him

And as for Ovid in his day

Only Corinna knew him.

But you my little books dont rush

to win me a great name

If only death brings praise im in

no hurry for that fame