Against Sundials -- Plautus

Guest poem submitted by William Grey, in response to
yesterday's offering:

(Poem #1901) Against Sundials The gods confound the man who first found out How to distinguish hours! Confound him, too, Who in this place set up a sundial, To cut and hack my days so wretchedly Into small portions! When I was a boy, My belly was my sundial -- one surer, Truer, and more exact than any of them. This dial told me when 'twas proper time To go to dinner, when I had aught to eat; But nowadays, why even when I have, I can't fall to unless the sun gives leave. The town's so full of these confounded dials The greatest part of the inhabitants, Shrunk up with hunger, crawl along the street. -- Plautus

        (c.254-184 BC)

This fragment from Plautus is offered in juxtaposition to Henry Austin
Dobson's "On The Hurry of This Time" (Poem #1905). As Martin justly
observes, 'Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose.' The verse fragment
(with my suggested title) is from "The Boeotian Woman", (3rd century
BC), preserved by Aulus Gellius (2nd century AD), and discussed in his
Attic Nights, [1], p. 247.

William Grey

[1] Aulus Gellius, The Attic Nights of Aulus Gellius. Vol 1 Loeb Library
Edition (trans John C. Rolfe). London: Heinemann, 1927.