English version by B. L. T.
I—AUGUSTUS BECOMES C2K.
Maecenas reminds the Emperor of a rash promise.
“Octavius, I’ve often heard you say
That you’d cut out the work some sunny day,
And have a look at our new country club.
Why not this aft, old top? Put on a sub;
Come down and watch us shoot a round of golf,
Whether you stay to play or stay to scoff.”
Augustus returns a laconic “Nix.”
“Nix on that golf stuff,” said the Emperor,
And so to prod him further I forbore.
Grabbing my clubs I chucked them in my car,
And made the two miles to the links in par;
While Caesar, peeved at having stood me off,
Let go the following remarks on golf:
Augustus defines golf as his notion of zero in recreations.
“War, glory, statecraft, and the Muses Nine
No longer charm these golf-mad friends of mine;
Wine, skirts, and song have also lost their hold
Beside this strange new game that, I am told,
By old and young and wise and foolish played is—
For which I would not give a hoot in Hades.
Me for the play or moving picture show,
A hand at bridge, or any game with go;
But chasing white pills round a vacant lot
Is my idea of entertainment, not.
But he decides to look it over.
“But here I am, singing the same old tune.
I’ve really not much on this afternoon,
And can, as old Maecenas said, knock off
And watch him shoot a hole or two at golf.
My motorcycle, boy! I’d like to see
Just wotinel this d. f. game may be.”
II—AUGUSTUS INDULGES IN STRONG LANGUAGE, BUT DECIDES TO LEARN THE GAME.
Maecenas drives, and the Emperor sniffs.
I whaled the ball two hundred yards or more—
A screamer—when up wheeled the Emperor,
Exclaiming, as he watched the sphere sail off,
“Ye gods! Is that the total sum of golf!
Weaklings and mollycoddles, what a shame
To waste your time on such a baby game!
He bawls Maecenas out.
“And you, Maecenas, ‘Son of Ancient Kings’
(As Flaccus boy satirically sings
In his last book, ‘A Line-o’-Verse or Two’),
Is that the best, old scout, that you can do?
A stroke most ladylike! Why, on my soul,
I’d back Xantippe for a ball a hole!
Say, if I couldn’t slam that piffling pill
Over the crest of yonder fir-clad hill
I’d go jump in the Tiber. Here, I say,
Give me that mallet! Caddy, stand away!”
Augustus short-circuits himself.
Preluding thus, the Top Card took his stance,
Giving the “pill” a quick, contemptuous glance,
Then swung the driver with terrific force,
And—missed the ball a foot or two, of course.
A caddy snickered, then discreetly blew,
And Caesar after him the driver threw,
With certain objurgations, warm and tinglish,
That look less rude in Latin than in English.
Maecenas speaks in part as follows.
I laughed and said, “You see, it takes some skill:
You didn’t keep your eye upon the pill.
The striking surface, you’ll observe, is small;
It’s not, Octavius, a soccer ball.”
The Emperor gets the bug.
“Aw, cut that out, for love of Mike!” said he.
“Laugh if you will—I grant it’s one on me.
Son of a bat!”—he called the nearest caddy—
“We’ll learn this game alone. Come on, my laddie;
And if you lose this new ball in the rough
What I will do to you will be enough!”
Maecenas and his friends play the Nineteenth Hole.
So off they went, while we the club bar found,
And ordered dry martinis all around.