Artemon and the Fates

It wasn't all that long ago he skulked about

In filthy, lice-infested rags, wore wooden earrings

And around his ribs the ox-hide stripped

From a cast-off shield. Sweet-talker that he was,

He cadged his meals off bakery girls and local whores,

Though sometimes you might've found him bound

Neck-down on a whipping block, or strapped

To a wheel and ratcheted up while thumb-sized

Gobbets of his scalp tore off. How is it, then,

That this same man now rides through town

In a gilded, silk-screened litter, wears jeweled

Earrings like a mix-with-all, and shades

Himself with a dowager's ivory parasol?

Anacreon, sixth century B.C.