There seems to be a revived interest in teaching Latin in schools.

For decades I've carried in my head echoes of Ovid, thanks to the immediacy of the texts and the musicality of words and rhythms. Here is one snippet, translated by classics scholar and crossword compiler John McKie (The Herald's Myops). In it, Ovid addresses his young protegee Perilla, herself a poet. The Latin text starts: Ista decens facies longis uitiabitur annis,/rugaque in antiqua fronte senilis erit.

TO PERILLA

At length – although you're lovely now –

Old Age brings wrinkles to the brow;

With soft footfall and stealthy pace

She'll surely spoil your pretty face.

"That girl had looks," you'll hear, and cry,

Moaning your mirror tells a lie.

You've modest means; they should be great.

Imagine you're loaded. The truth is Fate

Gives on a whim and takes away:

That bum had billions yesterday.

In short, the boons of heart and mind

Are all that we can leave behind.

Take me, in exile, missing you

And home, bereft of all I knew;

Still I've a friend to profit me –

My mind, immune from powers that be.

I may be murdered; though I'm dead

My name will live and I'll be read

While from her hills Rome gazes o'er

The whole world won by her in war.

A happier outcome may await

Your poetry. Avoid my fate.