42

To Priapus

Laetus Aristagoras natis bene vilicus uvis
de cera facili dat tibi poma, deus.
at tu sacrati contentus imagine pomi
fac veros fructus ille, Priape, ferat.

Bailiff Aristagoras of his grapes high-pedigree'd boasting
Apples moulded in wax giveth, O Godhead, to thee:
But thou, pleased with the fruit in effigy placed on thine altar,
Genuine 'fruit' vouchsafe he, O Priapus! shall bear.

The steward Aristagoras, rejoicing in his promising grapes, offers to thee, O God, apples formed from wax. Do thou, O Priapus, contented with the semblance of a votive apple, cause him to bear genuine fruit.[1]