Book VII, Epigram 27 (Ker)

The ravager of Tuscan mast, now fat with many an acorn, second in renown to the Aetolian beast, a boar which my Dexter pierced with his gleaming spear, lies here, a booty abhorrent to my hearth. Let my household gods joyously grow fat the steaming reek, and my festal kitchen blaze with felling of a hill top. But ah! the cook will consume a huge heap of pepper, and add Falernian mixed with his treasured fish-sauce. Go back to your owner my fire is too small for you, O boar that would bankrupt me! 'tis less ruinous to starve.