neglect by Trajan, he returned to his native country,
and, a few years after, ended his days, at the age of seventy-five.

He had lived at Rome in great splendour and affluence, as well as in high
esteem for his poetical talents; but upon his return to Bilbilis, it is
said that he experienced a great reverse of fortune, and was chiefly
indebted for his support to the gratuitous benefactions of Pliny the
Younger, whom he had extolled in some epigrams.

The poems of Martial consist of fourteen books, all written in the
epigrammatic form, to which species of composition, introduced by the
Greeks, he had a peculiar propensity. Amidst such a multitude of verses,
on a variety of subjects, often composed extempore, and many of them,
probably, in the moments of fashionable dissipation, it is not surprising
that we find a large number unworthy the genius of the author. Delicacy,
and even decency, is often violated in the productions of Martial.
Grasping at every thought which afforded even the shadow of ingenuity, he
gave unlimited scope to the exercise of an active and fruitful
imagination. In respect to composition, he is likewise liable to
censure. At one time he wearies, and at another tantalises the reader,
with the prolixity or ambiguity of his preambles. His prelusive
sentiments are sometimes far-fetched, and converge not with a natural
declination into the focus of epigram. In dispensing praise and censure,
he often seems to be governed more by prejudice or policy, than by
justice and truth; and he is more constantly attentive to the production
of wit, than to the improvement of morality.

But while we remark the blemishes and imperfections of this poet, we must
acknowledge his extraordinary merits. In composition he is, in general,
elegant and correct; and where the subject is capable of connection with
sentiment, his inventive ingenuity never fails to extract from it the
essence of delight and surprise. His fancy is prolific of beautiful
images, and his (505) judgment expert in arranging them to the greatest
advantage. He bestows panegyric with inimitable grace, and satirises
with equal dexterity. In a fund of Attic salt, he surpasses every other
writer; and though he seems to have at command all the varied stores of
gall, he is not destitute of candour. With almost every kind of
versification he appears to be familiar; and notwithstanding a facility
of temper, too accommodating, perhaps, on many occasions,