Non horti neque palmitis beati
sed rari nemoris, Priape, custos,
ex quo natus es et potes renasci,
furaces, moneo, manus repellas
et siluam domini focis reserues:
si defecerit haec, et ipse lignum es.
Neither of garden nor of blessèd vine
But of a little holt (Priapus!) guard,
Wherein wast born and may'st be born again;
I warn thee plundering hand alway repel
And keep the fuel for thy master's fire--
An this be wanting, mind! of wood thou art.
Priapus, guardian not of a garden nor of the sacred vine but of the little grove from which thou wert born and mayst again be born. I warn thee drive off thievish hands and preserve the wood for thy master's hearth. If this be wanting, remember thou too art wooden.[1]