{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/perseus_phi0472_phi001_phi0472.phi001.perseus-eng3/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/perseus_phi0472_phi001_phi0472.phi001.perseus-eng3","id":"perseus_phi0472_phi001_phi0472.phi001.perseus-eng3","license":"CC-BY-SA-4.0","rights_basis":"perseus_github_repo_license_cc_by_sa_4.0","source":"perseus","source_url":"https://github.com/PerseusDL/canonical-latinLit/blob/master/data/phi0472/phi001/phi0472.phi001.perseus-eng3.xml","summary":null,"tags":["C. Valerius Catullus"],"text":"DEDICATION TO CORNELIUS NEPOS Now smooth\u2019d to polish due with pumice dry Whereto this lively booklet now give I? To thee (Cornelius!); for wast ever fain To deem my trifles somewhat boon contain; E\u2019en when thou single \u2019mongst Italians found Daredst all periods in three Scripts expound Learned (by Jupiter!) elaborately. Then take thee whatso in this booklet be, Such as it is, whereto O Patron Maid To live down Ages lend thou lasting aid! LESBIA\u2019S SPARROW Sparrow! my pet\u2019s delicious joy, Wherewith in bosom nurst to toy She loves, and gives her finger-tip For sharp-nib\u2019d greedingneb to nip, Were she who my desire withstood To seek some pet of merry mood, As crumb o\u2019 comfort for her grief, Methinks her burning lowe\u2019s relief: Could I, as plays she, play with thee, That mind might win from misery free! To me t\u2019were grateful (as they say), Gold codling was to fleet-foot May, Whose long-bound zone it loosed for aye. ON THE DEATH OF LESBIA\u2019S SPARROW Weep every Venus, and all Cupids wail, And men whose gentler spirits still prevail. Dead is the Sparrow of my girl, the joy, Sparrow, my sweeting\u2019s most delicious toy, Whom loved she dearer than her very eyes; For he was honeyed-pet and anywise Knew her, as even she her mother knew; Ne\u2019er from her bosom\u2019s harbourage he flew But \u2019round her hopping here, there, everywhere, Piped he to none but her his lady fair. Now must he wander o\u2019er the darkling way Thither, whence life-return the Fates denay. But ah! beshrew you, evil Shadows low\u2019ring In Orcus ever loveliest things devouring: Who bore so pretty a Sparrow fro\u2019 her ta\u2019en. (Oh hapless birdie and Oh deed of bane!) Now by your wanton work my girl appears With turgid eyelids tinted rose by tears. ON HIS PINNACE Yonder Pinnace ye (my guests!) behold Saith she was erstwhile fleetest-fleet of crafts, Nor could by swiftness of aught plank that swims, Be she outstripped, whether paddle plied, Or fared she scudding under canvas-sail. Eke she defieth threat\u2019ning Adrian shore, Dare not denay her, insular Cyclades, And noble Rhodos and ferocious Thrace, Propontis too and blustering Pontic bight. Where she (my Pinnace now) in times before, Was leafy woodling on Cyt\u00f3rean Chine For ever loquent lisping with her leaves. Pontic Amastris! Box-tree-clad Cyt\u00f3rus! Cognisant were ye, and you weet full well (So saith my Pinnace) how from earliest age Upon your highmost-spiring peak she stood, How in your waters first her sculls were dipt, And thence thro\u2019 many and many an important strait She bore her owner whether left or right, Where breezes bade her fare, or Jupiter deigned At once propitious strike the sail full square; Nor to the sea-shore gods was aught of vow By her deemed needful, when from Ocean\u2019s bourne Extreme she voyaged for this limpid lake. Yet were such things whilome: now she retired In quiet age devotes herself to thee (O twin-born Castor) twain with Castor\u2019s twin. TO LESBIA, (OF LESBOS-CLODIA?) Love we (my Lesbia!) and live we our day, While all stern sayings crabbed sages say, At one doit\u2019s value let us price and prize! The Suns can westward sink again to rise But we, extinguished once our tiny light, Perforce shall slumber through one lasting night! Kiss me a thousand times, then hundred more, Then thousand others, then a new five-score, Still other thousand other hundred store. Last when the sums to many thousands grow, The tale let\u2019s trouble till no more we know, Nor envious wight despiteful shall misween us Knowing how many kisses have been kissed between us. TO FLAVIUS: MIS-SPEAKING HIS MISTRESS Thy Charmer (Flavius!) to Catullus\u2019 ear Were she not manner\u2019d mean and worst in wit Perforce thou hadst praised nor couldst silence keep. But some enfevered jade, I wot-not-what, Some piece thou lovest, blushing this to own. For, nowise \u2019customed widower nights to lie Thou \u2019rt ever summoned by no silent bed With flow\u2019r-wreaths fragrant and with Syrian oil, By mattress, bolsters, here, there, everywhere Deep-dinted, and by quaking, shaking couch All crepitation and mobility. Explain! none whoredoms (no!) shall close my lips. Why? such outfuttered flank thou ne\u2019er wouldst show Had not some fulsome work by thee been wrought. Then what thou holdest, boon or bane be pleased Disclose!For thee and thy beloved fain would I Upraise to Heaven with my liveliest lay. TO LESBIA STILL BELOVED Thou ask\u2019st How many kissing bouts I bore From thee (my Lesbia!) or be enough or more? I say what mighty sum of Lybian-sands Confine Cyrene\u2019s Laserpitium-lands \u2019Twixt Oracle of Jove the Swelterer And olden Battus\u2019 holy Sepulchre, Or stars innumerate through night-stillness ken The stolen Love-delights of mortal men, For that to kiss thee with unending kisses For mad Catullus enough and more be this, Risses nor curious wight shall count their tale, Nor to bewitch us evil tongue avail. TO HIMSELF RECOUNTING LESBIA\u2019S INCONSTANCY Woe-full Catullus! cease to play the fool And what thou seest dead as dead regard! Whil\u00f2me the sheeniest suns for thee did shine When oft-a-tripping whither led the girl By us beloved, as shall none be loved. There all so merry doings then were done After thy liking, nor the girl was loath. Then cert\u00e8s sheeniest suns for thee did shine. Now she\u2019s unwilling: thou too (hapless!) will Her flight to follow, and sad life to live: Endure with stubborn soul and still obdure. Damsel, adieu! Catullus obdurate grown Nor seeks thee, neither asks of thine unwill; Yet shalt thou sorrow when none woos thee more; Reprobate! Woe to thee! What life remains? Who now shall love thee? Who\u2019ll think thee fair? Whom now shalt ever love? Whose wilt be called? To whom shalt kisses give? whose liplets nip? But thou (Catullus!) destiny-doomed obdure. TO VERANIUS RETURNED FROM TRAVEL Veranius! over every friend of me Forestanding, owned I hundred thousands three, Home to Penates and to single-soul\u2019d Brethren, returned art thou and mother old? Yes, thou art come. Oh, winsome news come well! Now shall I see thee, safely hear thee tell Of sites Iberian, deeds and nations \u2019spied, (As be thy wont) and neck-a-neck applied I\u2019ll greet with kisses thy glad lips and eyne. Oh! Of all mortal men beatified Whose joy and gladness greater be than mine? HE MEETS VARUS AND MISTRESS Led me my Varus to his flame, As I from Forum idling came. Forthright some whorelet judged I it Nor lacking looks nor wanting wit, When hied we thither, mid us three Fell various talk, as how might be Bithynia now, and how it fared, And if some coin I made or spared. There was no cause (I soothly said) The Praetors or the Cohort made Thence to return with oilier head; The more when ruled by Praetor, as pile the Cohort rating. Quoth they, But certes as \u2019twas there The custom rose, some men to bear Litter thou boughtest? I to her To seem but richer, wealthier, Cry, Nay, with me \u2019twas not so ill That, given the Province suffered, still Eight stiff-backed loons I could not buy. (Withal none here nor there owned I Who broken leg of Couch outworn On nape of neck had ever borne!) Then she, as pathic piece became, Prithee Catullus mine, those same Lend me, Serapis-wards I\u2019d hie. Easy, on no-wise, no, quoth I, Whate\u2019er was mine, I lately said Is some mistake, my camarade One Cinna-Gaius-bought the lot, But his or mine, it matters what? I use it freely as though bought, Yet thou, pert troubler, most absurd, None suffer\u2019st speak an idle word. A PARTING INSULT TO LESBIA Furius and Aurelius, Catullus\u2019 friends, Whether extremest Indian shore he brave, Strands where far-resounding billow rends The shattered wave, Or \u2019mid Hyrcanians dwell he, Arabs soft and wild, Sacis and Parthians of the arrow fain, Or where the Seven-mouth\u2019d Nilus mud-defiled Tinges the Main, Or climb he lofty Alpine Crest and note Works monumental, Caesar\u2019s grandeur telling, Rhine Gallic, horrid Ocean and remote Britons low-dwelling; All these (whatever shall the will design Of Heaven-homed Gods) Oh ye prepared to tempt; Announce your briefest to that damsel mine In words unkempt:\u2014 Live she and love she wenchers several, Embrace three hundred wi\u2019 the like requitals, None truly loving and withal of all Bursting the vitals: My love regard she not, my love of yore, Which fell through fault of her, as falls the fair Last meadow-floret whenas passed it o\u2019er touch of the share. TO M. ASINIUS WHO STOLE NAPERY Marr\u00facinus Asinius! ill thou usest That hand sinistral in thy wit and wine Filching the napkins of more heedless hosts. Dost find this funny? Fool it passeth thee How \u2019tis a sordid deed, a sorry jest. Dost misbelieve me? Trust to Pollio, Thy brother, ready to compound such thefts E\u2019en at a talent\u2019s cost; for he\u2019s a youth In speech past master and in fair pleasantries. Of hendecasyllabics hundreds three Therefore expect thou, or return forthright Linens whose loss affects me not for worth But as mementoes of a comrade mine. For napkins Saetaban from Ebro-land Fab\u00fallus ent me a free giftie given Also Ver\u00e1nius: these perforce I love E\u2019en as my Verani\u00f3lus and Fab\u00fallus. FABULLUS IS INVITED TO A POET\u2019S SUPPER Thou\u2019lt sup right well with me, Fab\u00fallus mine, In days few-numbered an the Gods design, An great and goodly meal thou bring wi\u2019 thee Nowise forgetting damsel bright o\u2019 blee, With wine, and salty wit and laughs all-gay. An these my bonny man, thou bring, I say Thou\u2019lt sup right well, for thy Catullus\u2019 purse Save web of spider nothing does imburse. But thou in countergift more loves shalt take Or aught of sweeter taste or fairer make: I\u2019ll give thee unguent lent my girl to scent By every Venus and all Cupids sent, Which, as thou savour, pray Gods interpose And thee, Fab\u00fallus, make a Naught-but-nose. TO CALVUS, ACKNOWLEDGING HIS POEMS Did I not liefer love thee than my eyes (Winsomest Calvus!), for that gift of thine Cert\u00e8s I\u2019d hate thee with Vatinian hate. Say me, how came I, or by word or deed, To cause thee plague me with so many a bard? The Gods deal many an ill to such a client, Who sent of impious wights to thee such crowd. But if (as guess I) this choice boon new-found To thee from Commentator Sulla come, None ill I hold it\u2014well and welcome \u2019tis, For that thy labours ne\u2019er to death be doom\u2019d. Great Gods!What horrid booklet damnable Unto thine own Catullus thou (perdie!) Did send, that ever day by day die he In Saturnalia, first of festivals. No! No! thus shall\u2019t not pass wi\u2019 thee, sweet wag, For I at dawning day will scour the booths Of bibliopoles, Aquinii, Caesii and Suffenus, gather all their poison-trash And with such torments pay thee for thy pains. Now for the present hence, adieu! begone Thither, whence came ye, brought by luckless feet, Pests of the Century, ye pernicious Poets. Labeled 14b in the print. An of my trifles peradventure chance You to be readers, and the hands of you Without a shudder unto us be offer\u2019d TO AURELIUS\u2014HANDS OFF THE BOY! To thee I trust my loves and me, (Aurelius!) craving modesty. That (if in mind didst ever long To win aught chaste unknowing wrong) Then guard my boy in purest way. From folk I say not: naught affray The crowds wont here and there to run Through street-squares, busied every one; But thee I dread nor less thy penis Fair or foul, younglings\u2019 foe I ween is! Wag it as wish thou, at its will, When out of doors its hope fulfil; Him bar I, modestly, methinks. But should ill-mind or lust\u2019s high jinks Thee (Sinner!), drive to sin so dread, That durst ensnare our dearling\u2019s head, Ah! woe\u2019s thee (wretch!) and evil fate, Mullet and radish shall pierce and grate, When feet-bound, haled through yawning gate. TO AURELIUS AND FURIUS IN DEFENCE OF HIS MUSE\u2019S HONESTY I\u2019ll you twain and Pathic Aurelius!F\u00farius, libertines! Who durst determine from my versicles Which seem o\u2019er softy, that I\u2019m scant of shame. For pious poet it behoves be chaste Himself; no chastity his verses need; Nay, gain they finally more salt of wit When over softy and of scanty shame, Apt for exciting somewhat prurient, In boys, I say not, but in bearded men Who fail of movements in their hardened loins. Ye who so many thousand kisses sung Have read, deny male masculant I be? You twain I\u2019ll and OF A PREDESTINED HUSBAND Colony! fain to display thy games on length of thy town-bridge! There, too, ready to dance, though fearing the shaking of crazy Logs of the Bridgelet propt on pier-piles newly renew\u00e8d, Lest supine all sink deep-merged in the marish\u2019s hollow, So may the bridge hold good when builded after thy pleasure Where Salis\u00fabulus\u2019 rites with solemn function are sacred, As thou (Colony!) grant me boon of mightiest laughter. Certain a townsman mine I\u2019d lief see thrown from thy gangway Hurl\u00e8d head over heels precipitous whelmed in the quagmire, Where the lake and the boglands are most rotten and stinking, Deepest and lividest lie, the swallow of hollow voracious. Witless surely the wight whose sense is less than of boy-babe Two-year-old and a-sleep on trembling forearm of father. He though, wedded to girl in greenest bloom of her youth-tide, (Bride-wife daintier bred than ever was delicate kidlet, Worthier diligent watch than grape-bunch blackest and ripest) Suffers her sport as she please nor rates her even at hair\u2019s worth, Nowise \u2019stirring himself, but lying log-like as alder Felled and o\u2019er floating the fosse of safe Ligurian woodsman, Feeling withal, as though such spouse he never had own\u2019d; So this marvel o\u2019 mine sees naught, and nothing can hear he, What he himself, an he be or not be, wholly unknowing. Now would I willingly pitch such wight head first fro\u2019 thy bridge, Better a-sudden t\u2019arouse that numskull\u2019s stolid old senses, Or in the sluggish mud his soul supine to deposit Even as she-mule casts iron shoe where quagmire is stiffest. TO PRIAPUS, THE GARDEN-GOD This grove to thee devote I give, Priapus! Who home be Lampsacus and holt, Priapus! For thee in cities worship most the shores Of Hellespont the richest oystery strand. To PRIAPUS This place, O youths, I protect, nor less this turfbuilded cottage, Roofed with its osier-twigs and thatched with its bundles of sedges; I from the dried oak hewn and fashioned with rustical hatchet, Guarding them year by year while more are they evermore thriving. For here be owners twain who greet and worship my Godship, He of the poor hut lord and his son, the pair of them peasants: This with assiduous toil aye works the thicketty herbage And the coarse water-grass to clear afar from my chapel: That with his open hand ever brings me offerings humble. Hung up in honour mine are flowery firstlings of spring-tide, Wreaths with their ears still soft the tender stalklets a-crowning; Violets pale are mine by side of the poppy-head pallid; With the dull yellow gourd and apples sweetest of savour; Lastly the blushing grape disposed in shade of the vine-tree. Anon mine altar (this same) with blood (but you will be silent!) Bearded kid and anon some horny-hoofed nanny shall sprinkle. Wherefore Priapus is bound to requite such honours by service, Doing his duty to guard both vineyard and garth of his lordling. Here then, O lads, refrain from ill-mannered picking and stealing: Rich be the neighbour-hind and negligent eke his Priapus: Take what be his: this path hence leadeth straight to his ownings. To PRIAPUS I thuswise fashion\u00e8d by rustic art And from dried poplar-trunk (O traveller!) hewn, This fieldlet, leftwards as thy glances fall, And my lord\u2019s cottage with his pauper garth Protect, repelling thieves\u2019 rapacious hands. In spring with vari-coloured wreaths I\u2019m crown\u2019d, In fervid summer with the glowing grain, Then with green vine-shoot and the luscious bunch, And glaucous olive-tree in bitter cold. The dainty she-goat from my pasture bears Her milk-distended udders to the town: Out of my sheep-cotes ta\u2019en the fatted lamb Sends home with silver right-hand heavily charged; And, while its mother lows, the tender calf Before the temples of the Gods must bleed. Hence of such Godhead, (traveller !) stand in awe, Best it befits thee off to keep thy hands. Thy cross is ready, shaped as artless yard; I\u2019m willing, \u2019faith (thou say\u2019st) but \u2019faith here comes The boor, and plucking forth with bended arm Makes of this tool a club for doughty hand. To AURELIUS THE SKINFLINT Aurelius, father of the famisht crew, Not sole of starvelings now, but wretches who Were, are, or shall be in the years to come, My love, my dearling, fain art thou to strum. Nor privately; for nigh thou com\u2019st and jestest And to his side close-sticking all things questest. \u2019Tis vain: while lay\u2019st thou snares for me the worst, By I will teach thee first. An food-full thus do thou, my peace I\u2019d keep: But what (ah me ! ah me !) compels me weep Are thirst and famine to my dearling fated. Cease thou so doing while as modest rated, Lest to thy will thou win\u2014but To VARUS ABUSING SUFFENUS Varus, yon wight Suffenus known to thee Fairly for wit, free talk, urbanity, The same who scribbles verse in amplest store\u2014 Methinks he fathers thousands ten or more Indited not as wont on palimpsest, But paper-royal, brand-new boards, and best Fresh bosses, crimson ribbands, sheets with lead Ruled, and with pumice-powder all well polished. These as thou readest, seem that fine, urbane Suffenus, goat-herd mere, or ditcher-swain Once more, such horrid change is there, so vile. What must we wot thereof? a Droll erst while, Or (if aught) cleverer, he with converse meets, He now in dullness, dullest villain beats Forthright on handling verse, nor is the wight Ever so happy as when verse he write: So self admires he with so full delight. In sooth, we all thus err, nor man there be But in some matter a Suffenus see Thou canst: his lache allotted none shall lack Yet spy we nothing of our back-borne pack. TO FURIUS SATIRICALLY PRAISING HIS POVERTY Furius !Nor chest, nor slaves can claim, Bug, Spider, nor e\u2019e n hearth aflame, Yet thine a sire and step-dame who Wi\u2019 tooth can ever flint-food chew! So thou, and pleasant happy life Lead wi\u2019 thy parents wooden wife. Nor be this marvel: hale are all, Well ye digest; no fears appal For household-arsons, heavy ruin, Plunderings impious, poison-brewin\u2019 Or other parlous case forlorn. Your frames are hard and dried like horn, Or if more arid aught ye know By suns and frosts and hunger-throe. Then why not happy as thou\u2019rt hale? Sweat\u2019s strange to thee, spit fails, and fail Phlegm and foul snivel from the nose. Add cleanness that aye cleanlier shows A bum than salt-pot cleanlier, Nor ten times cack\u2019st in total year, And harder \u2019tis than pebble or bean Which rubbed in hand or crumbled, e\u2019en On finger ne\u2019er shall make unclean. Such blessings (Furius !) such a prize Never belittle nor despise; Hundred sesterces seek no more With wonted prayer\u2014enow\u2019s thy store! TOJUVENTIUS CONCERNING THE CHOICE OF A FRIEND O of Juventian youths the flowret fair Not of these only, but of all that were Or shall be, coming in the coming years, Better waste Midas\u2019 wealth (to me appears) On him that owns nor slave nor money-chest Than thou shouldst suffer by his love possest. What! is he vile or not fair?Yes! I attest, Yet owns this man so comely neither slaves nor chest My words disdain thou or accept at best Yet neither slave he owns nor money-chest. ADDRESS TO THALLUS THE NAPERY-THIEF Thou bardache Thallus! more than Coney\u2019s robe Soft, or goose-marrow or ear\u2019s lowmost lobe, Or Age\u2019s languid yard and cobweb\u2019d part, Same Thallus greedier than the gale thou art, When the Kite-goddess shows thee Gulls agape, Return my muffler thou hast dared to rape, Saetaban napkins, tablets of Thynos, all Which (Fool!) ancestral heirlooms thou didst call. These now unglueing from thy claws restore, Lest thy soft hands, and floss-like flanklets score The burning scourges, basely signed and lined, And thou unwonted toss like wee barque tyned \u2019Mid vasty Ocean vexed by madding wind! CATULLUS CONCERNING HIS VILLA Furius! our Villa never Austral force Broke, neither set thereon Favonius\u2019 course, Nor savage Boreas, nor Epeliot\u2019s strain, But fifteen thousand crowns and hundreds twain Wreckt it, \u2014Oh ruinous by-wind, breezy bane! TO HIS CUP-BOY Thou youngling drawer of Falernian old Crown me the goblets with a bitterer wine As was Postumia\u2019s law that rules the feast Than ebriate grape-stone more inebriate. But ye fare whither please ye (water-nymphs!) To wine pernicious, and to sober folk Migrate ye: mere Thyonian juice be here! TO FRIENDS ON RETURN FROM TRAVEL Followers of Piso, empty band With your light budgets packt to hand, Ver\u00e1nius best! Fab\u00fallus mine! What do ye? Bore ye enough, in fine Of frost and famine with yon sot? What loss or gain have haply got Your tablets? so, whenas I ranged With Praetor, gains for loss were changed. O Memmius! thou did\u2019st long and late me supine slow and But (truly see I) in such case Diddled you were by wight as base Sans mercy. Noble friends go claim! Now god and goddess give you grame Disgrace of Romulus! Remus\u2019 shame! TO CAESAR OF MAMURRA, CALLED MENTULA Who e\u2019er could witness this (who could endure Except the lewdling, dicer, greedy-gut) That should Mamurra get what hairy Gaul And all that farthest Britons held whil\u00f2me? (Thou bardache Romulus!) this wilt see and bear? Then art a lewdling, dicer, greedy-gut! He now superb with pride superfluous Shall go perambulate the bedrooms all Like white-robed dovelet or Adonis-love. Romulus thou bardache! this wilt see and bear? Then art a lewdling, dicer, greedy-gut! Is\u2019t for such like name, sole Emperor thou! Thou soughtest extreme Occidental Isle? That this your Mentula Millions and Milliards might at will absorb? What is\u2019t but Liberality misplaced? What trifles wasted he, small heirlooms spent? First his paternal goods were clean dispersed; Second went Pontus\u2019 spoils and for the third,\u2014 Ebro-land,\u2014weets it well gold-rolling Tage. Fear him the Gallias? Him the Britons\u2019 fear? Why cherish this ill-wight? what \u2019vails he do? Save fat paternal heritage devour? Lost ye for such a name, o puissant pair (Father and Son-in-law), our all-in-all? To ALFENUS THE PERJUROR Alf\u00e9nus! short of memory, false to comrades dearest-dear, Now hast no pity (hardened Soul!) for friend and loving fere? Now to betray me, now to guile. thou (traitor!) ne\u2019er dost pause? Yet impious feats of fraudful men ne\u2019er force the Gods\u2019 applause: When heed\u2019st thou not deserting me (Sad me!) in sorest scathe, Ah say whate\u2019er shall humans do? in whom shall man show faith? For sure thou bad\u2019st me safely yield my spirit (wretch!) to thee, Lulling my love as though my life were all security. The same now dost withdraw thyself and every word and deed Thou suffer\u2019st winds and airy clouds to sweep fromout thy head. But an forget thou, mindful be the Gods, and Faith in mind Bears thee, and soon shall gar thee rue the deeds by thee design\u2019d. ON RETURN TO SIRMIO AND HIS VILLA Sirmio! of Islands and Peninsulas Eyelet, and whatsoe\u2019er in limpid meres And vasty Ocean either Neptune owns, Thy scenes how willing-glad once more I see, At pain believing Thynia and the Fields Bithynian left, I\u2019m safe to sight thy Site. Oh what more bless\u00e8d be than cares resolved, When mind casts burthen and by peregrine Work over wearied, lief we hie us home To lie reposing in the longed-for bed! This be the single meed for toils so triste. Hail, O fair Sirmio, in thy lord rejoice: And ye, O\u2019 waves of Lybian Lake be glad, And laugh what laughter pealeth in my home. CRAVING IPSITHILLA\u2019S LAST FAVOURS ILL love my Ipsithilla sweetest, My desires and my Wit the meetest, So bid me join thy nap o\u2019 noon! Then (after bidding) add the boon Undraw thy threshold-bolt none dare, Lest thou be led afar to fare; Nay bide at home, for us prepare Nine-fold continuous love-delights. But aught do thou to hurry things, For dinner-full I lie aback, And gown and tunic through I crack. ON THE VIBENNII-BATH-THIEVES OH, best of robbers who in Baths delight, Vibennius, sire and son, the Ingle hight, (For that the father\u2019s hand be fouler one And with his anus greedier is the Son) Why not to banishment and evil hours Haste ye, when all the parent\u2019s plundering powers Are public knowledge, nor canst gain a Cent Son! by the vending of thy pil\u00e8d vent. HYMN TO DIANA Diana\u2019s faith inbred we bear Youths whole of heart and maidens fair, Let boys no blemishes impair, And girls of Dian sing! O great Latonian progeny, Of greatest Jove descendancy, Whom mother bare \u2019neath olive-tree, Deep in the Delian dell; That of the mountains reign thou Queen And forest ranges ever green, And coppices by man unseen, And rivers resonant. Thou art Luc\u00edna, Juno hight By mothers lien in painful plight, Thou puissant Trivia and the Light Bastard, yclept the Lune. Thou goddess with thy monthly stage, The yearly march doth mete and guage An d rustic peasant\u2019s messuage, Dost brim with best o\u2019 crops, Be hailed by whatso name of grace, Please thee and olden Romulus\u2019 race, Thy wonted favour deign embrace, And save with choicest aid. AN INVITATION TO POET CECILIUS Now to that tender bard, my Comrade fair, (Cecilius) say I, Paper go, declare, Verona must we make and bid to New Comum\u2019s town-walls and Larian Shores adieu; For I determined certain fancies he Accept from mutual friend to him and me. Wherefore he will, if wise, devour the way, Though the blonde damsel thousand times essay Recall his going and with arms a-neck A-winding would e\u2019er seek his course to check; A girl who (if the truth be truly told) Dies of a hopeless passion uncontroul\u2019d; For since the doings of the D\u00edndymus-dame, By himself storied, she hath read, a flame Wasting her inmost marrow-core hath burned. I pardon thee, than Sapphic Muse more learn\u2019d, Damsel: for truly sung in sweetest lays Was by Cecilius Magna Mater\u2019s praise. ONTHE ANNALS\u2014A SO-CALLED POEM OF VOLUSIUS Volusius\u2019 Annals, paper scum-bewrayed! Fulfil that promise erst my damsel made; Who vowed to Holy Venus and her son, Cupid, should I return to her anon And cease to brandish iamb-lines accurst, The writ selected erst of bards the worst She to the limping Godhead would devote With slowly-burning wood of illest note. This was the vilest which my girl could find With vow facetious to the Gods assigned. Now, O Creation of the azure sea, Holy Idalium, Urian havenry Haunting, Ancona, Cnidos\u2019 reedy site, Amathus, Golgos, and the tavern hight Durrachium-thine Adrian abode\u2014 The vow accepting, recognize the vowed As not unworthy and unhandsome naught. But do ye meanwhile to the fire be brought, That teem with boorish jest of sorry blade, Volusius\u2019 Annals, paper scum-bewrayed. TO THE FREQUENTERS OF A LOW TAVERN Salacious Tavern and ye taverner-host, From Pileate Brothers the ninth pile-post, D\u2019ye claim, you only of the, mentule boast, D\u2019ye claim alone what damsels be the best To swive: as he-goats holding all the rest? Is\u2019t when like boobies sit ye incontinent here, One or two hundred, deem ye that I fear Two hundred at one brunt? Ay, think so, natheless all your tavern-front With many a scorpion I will over-write. For that my damsel, fro\u2019 my breast took flight, By me so lov\u00e8d, as shall loved be none, Wherefor so mighty wars were waged and won, Does sit in public here. Ye fain, rich wights, All woo her: thither too (the chief of slights !) All pitiful knaves and by-street wenchers fare, And thou, (than any worse), with hanging hair, In coney-breeding Celtiberia bred, Egnatius! bonnified by beard full-fed, And teeth with Spanish urine polish\u00e8d. A COMPLAINT TO CORNIFICIUS Cornificius! \u2019Tis ill with thy Catullus, \u2019Tis ill (by Hercules) distressfully: Iller and iller every day and hour. Whose soul (as smallest boon and easiest) With what of comfort hast thou deign\u2019d console? Wi\u2019 thee I\u2019m angered! Dost so prize my love? Yet some consoling utterance had been well Though sadder \u2019twere than Simon\u00eddean tears. ON EGNATIUS OF THE WHITE TEETH Egnatius for that owns he teeth snow-white, Grins ever, everywhere. When placed a wight In dock, when pleader would draw tears, the while He grins. When pious son at funeral pile Mourns, or lone mother sobs for sole lost son, He grins. Whate\u2019er, whene\u2019er, howe\u2019er is done, Of deed he grins. Such be his malady, Nor kind, nor courteous-so beseemeth me\u2014 Then take thou good Egnatius, rede of mine! Wert Thou Corrupt Sabine Or A Tiburtine, Stuffed Umbrian or Tuscan overgrown Swarthy Lanuvian with his teeth-rows shown, Transpadan also, that mine own I touch, Or any washing teeth to shine o\u2019er much, Yet thy incessant grin I would not see, For naught than laughter silly sillier be. Thou Celtiber art, in Celtiberia born, Where man who\u2019s urined therewith loves a-morn His teeth and ruddy gums to scour and score; So the more polisht are your teeth, the more Argue they sipping stale in ampler store. THREATENING RAVIDUS WHO STOLE HIS MISTRESS What thought of folly R\u00e1vidus (poor churl!) Upon my iambs thus would headlong hurl? What good or cunning counsellor would fain Urge thee to struggle in such strife insane? Is\u2019t that the vulgar mouth thy name by rote? What will\u2019st thou? Wishest on any wise such note? Then shalt be noted since my love so lief For love thou sued\u2019st to thy lasting grief. ON MAMURRA\u2019S MISTRESS That Ametina, worn-out whore, Me for a myriad oft would bore, That strumpet of th\u2019 ignoble nose, To leman, rakehell Formian chose. An ye would guard her (kinsmen folk) Your friends and leaches d\u2019ye convoke: The girl\u2019s not sound-sens\u2019d; ask ye naught Of her complaint: she\u2019s love-distraught. ON A STRUMPET WHO STOLE HIS TABLETS Come, Hendecasyllabics, many as may All hither, every one that of you be! That fulsome harlot makes me laughing-stock And she refuses at our prayer restore Our stolen Note-books, an such slights ye bear. Let us pursue her clamouring our demands. Who\u2019s she? ye question: yonder one ye sight Mincingly pacing mime-like, perfect pest, With jaws wide grinning like a Gallic pup. Stand all round her dunning with demands, Return (O rotten whore!) our noting books. Our noting books (O rotten whore!) return! No doit thou car\u2019st? O Mire! O Stuff O\u2019 stews! Or if aught fouler filthier dirt there be. Yet must we never think these words suffice. But if naught else avail, at least a blush Forth of that bitch-like brazen brow we\u2019ll squeeze. Cry all together in a higher key Restore (O rotten whore!) our noting books, Our noting books (O rotten whore!) restore! Still naught avails us, nothing is she moved. Now must our measures and our modes be changed An we would anywise our cause advance. Restore (chaste, honest Maid!) our noting books! To MAMURRA\u2019S MISTRESS Hail, girl who neither nose of minim size Owns, nor a pretty foot, nor jetty eyes, Nor thin long fingers, nor mouth dry of slaver Nor yet too graceful tongue of pleasant flavour, Leman to Formian that rake-a-hell. What, can the Province boast of thee as belle? Thee with my Lesbia durst it make compare? O Age insipid, of all humour bare! CATULLUS TO HIS OWN FARM O Farm our own, Sabine or Tiburtine, (For style thee Tiburs Who have not at heart To hurt Catullus, whereas all that have Wage any Wager thou be Sabine classed) But whether Sabine or of Tiburs truer To thy suburban Cottage fared I fain And fro\u2019 my bronchials drave that curs\u00e8d cough Which not unmerited on me my maw, A-seeking sumptuous banquetings, bestowed. For I requesting to be Sestius\u2019 guest Read against claimant Antius a speech, Full-filled with poisonous pestilential trash. Hence a grave frigid rheum and frequent cough Shook me till fled I to thy bosom, where Repose and nettle-broth healed all my ills. Wherefore recruited now best thanks I give To thee for nowise punishing my sins: Nor do I now object if noisome writs Of Sestius hear I, but that cold and cough And rheum may plague, not me, but Sestius\u2019 self Who asks me only his ill writs to read. ON ACME AND SEPTUMIUS To Acm\u00e9 quoth Septumius who his fere Held on his bosom\u2014Acm\u00e9, mine! next year, Unless I love thee fondlier than before, And with each twelve month love thee more and more, As much as lover\u2019s life can slay with yearning, Alone in Lybia, or Hind\u2019s clime a-burning, Be mine to encounter Lion grisly-eyed! While he was speaking Love on leftward side (As wont) approving sneeze from dextral sped. But Acm\u00e9 backwards gently bending head, And the love-drunken eyes of her sweet boy Kissing with yonder rosy mouth, My joy, She murmured, my life-love Septumillus mine! Unto one master\u2019s hest let\u2019s aye incline, As burns with fuller and with fiercer fire In my soft marrow set, this love-desire! While she was speaking, Love from leftward side (As wont) with sneeze approving rightwards hied. Now with boon omens wafted on their way, In mutual fondness, love and loved are they. Love-sick Septumius holds one Acm\u00e9\u2019s love, Of Syrias or either Britains high above, Acm\u00e9 to one Septumius full of faith Her love and love-liesse surrendereth. Who e\u2019er saw mortals happier than these two? Who e\u2019er a better omened Venus knew? HIS ADIEU46 TO BITHYNIA Now Spring his cooly mildness brings us back, Now th\u2019 equinoctial heaven\u2019s rage and wrack Hushes at hest of Zephyr\u2019s bonny breeze. Far left (Catullus!) be the Phrygian leas And summery Nicaea\u2019s fertile downs: Fly we to Asia\u2019s fame-illumined towns. Now lust my fluttering thoughts for wayfare long, Now my glad eager feet grow steady, strong. O fare ye well, my comrades, pleasant throng, Ye who together far from homesteads flying, By many various ways come homewards hieing. TO PORCIUS AND SOCRATION Porcius and Socration, pair sinister Of Piso, scabs and starvelings of the world, You to Fab\u00fallus and my Veriani\u00f3lus, Hath dared yon snipt Priapus to prefer? Upon rich banquets sumptuously spread Still gorge you daily while my comrades must Go seek invitals where the three roads fork? TOJUVENTIUS Those honied eyes of thine (Juventius!) If any suffer me sans stint to buss, I\u2019d kiss of kisses hundred thousands three, Nor ever deem I\u2019d reach satiety, Not albe denser than dried wheat-ears show The kissing harvests our embraces grow. TO MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO Most eloquent \u2019mid race of Romulus> That is or ever was (Marc Tullius!) Or in the coming years the light shall see, His thanks, the warmest, offers unto thee Catullus, poet sorriest that be, And by such measure poet sorriest, As thou of pleaders art the bestest best. TO HIS FRIEND LICINIUS Idly (Licinius!) we our yesterday, Played with my tablets much as pleased us play, In mode becoming souls of dainty strain. Inditing verses either of us twain Now in one measure then in other line We rang the changes amid wit and wine. Then fared I homewards by thy fun so fired And by thy jests (Licinius!) so inspired, Nor food my hapless appetite availed Nor sleep in quiet rest my eyelids veiled, But o\u2019er the bedstead wild in furious plight I tossed a-longing to behold the light, So I might talk wi\u2019 thee, and be wi\u2019 thee. But when these wearied limbs from labour free Were on my couchlet strewn half-dead to lie, For thee (sweet wag!) this poem for thee wrote I, Whereby thou mete and weet my cark and care. Now be not over-bold, nor this our prayer Outspit thou (apple of mine eyes !): we pray Lest doom thee Nemesis hard pain repay:\u2014 She\u2019s a dire Goddess, \u2019ware thou cross her way. TO LESBIA Peer of a God meseemeth he, Nay passing Gods (and that can be!) Who all the while sits facing thee Sees thee and hears Thy low sweet laughs which (ah me!) daze Mine every sense, and as I gaze Upon thee (Lesbia!) o\u2019er me strays My tongue is dulled, my limbs adown Flows subtle flame; with sound its own Rings either ear, and o\u2019er are strown Mine eyes with night. Ease has thy lot, Catullus, crost, Ease gladdens thee at heaviest cost, Ease killed the Kings ere this and lost the tallest towns. CATULLUS TO HIMSELF What is\u2019t, Catullus? Why delay to out die? That Wen hight Nonius sits in curule chair, For Consulship Vatinius false doth swear; What is\u2019t, Catullus? Why delay to out die? A JEST CONCERNING CALVUS I laughed at one \u2019mid Forum-crowd unknown Who, when Vatinius\u2019 crimes in wondrous way Had by my Calvus been explained, exposed, His hand upraising high admiring cried Great Gods! the loquent little Doodle-diddle! To JULIUS CAESAR(?) The head of Otho, puniest of pates The rustic half-washt shanks of Nerius And Libo\u2019s subtle silent fizzling-farts. I wish that leastwise these should breed disgust In thee and old Fuficius, rogue twice-cookt. Again at these mine innocent iamb-lines Wi\u2019 wrath be wrothest; unique Emperor! OF HIS FRIEND CAMERIUS We pray, an\u2019 haply irk it not when prayed, Show us where shadowed hidest thou in shade! Thee throughout Campus Minor sought we all, Thee in the Circus, thee in each bookstall, Thee in Almighty Jove\u2019s fane consecrate. Nor less in promenade titled from The Great (Friend!) I accosted each and every quean, But mostly madams showing mien serene, For thee I pestered all with many pleas\u2014 Give me Cam\u00e9rius, wanton baggages! Till answered certain one a-baring breasts Lo, \u2019twixt these rosy paps he haply rests! But now to find thee were Herculean feat. Not if I feigned me that guard of Crete, Not if with Pegas\u00e8an wing I sped, Or Ladas I or Perseus plumiped, Or Rhesus borne in swifty car snow-white: Add the twain foot-bewing\u2019d and fast of flight, And of the cursive\u2019 winds require the blow: All these (Cam\u00e9rius!) couldst on me bestow. Tho\u2019 were I wearied to each marrow bone And by many o\u2019 languors clean forgone Yet I to seek thee (friend!) would still assay. In such proud lodging (friend) wouldst self denay? Tell us where haply dwell\u2019st thou, speak outright, Be bold and risk it, trusting truth to light, Say do these milk-white girls thy Steps detain? If aye in tight-sealed lips thy tongue remain, All Amor\u2019s fruitage thou shalt cast away: Verbose is Venus, loving verbal play! But, an it please thee, padlockt palate bear, So in your friendship I have partner-share. TO CATO, DESCRIBING A BLACK JOKER. O risible matter (Cato!) and jocose, Digne of thy hearing, of thy sneering digne. Laugh (Cato!) an thou love Catullus thine; The thing is risible, nay, too jocose. Erstwhile I came upon a lad who a lass Was and (so please it Dion!) I Pierced him with stiffest staff and did him die. ON MAMURRA AND JULIUS CAESAR Right well are paired these Cinaedes sans shame Mamurra and Caesar, both of pathic fame. No wonder!Both are fouled with foulest blight, One urban being, Formian t\u2019other wight, And deeply printed with indelible stain: Morbose is either, and the twin-like twain Share single Couchlet; peers in shallow lore, Nor this nor that for lechery hungers more, As rival wenchers who the maidens claim Right well are paired these Cinaedes sans shame. ON LESBIA WHO ENDED BADLY Caelius! That Lesbia of ours, that Lesbia, That only Lesbia by Catullus loved, Than self, far fondlier, than all his friends, She now Where four roads fork, and wind the wynds Husks the high-minded scions Remus-sprung. ON RUFA Rufa the Bolognese drains Rufule dry, (Wife to Menenius) she \u2019mid tombs you\u2019ll spy, The same a-snatching supper from the pyre Following the bread-loaves rolling forth the fire Till frapped by half-shaved body-burner\u2019s ire. TO A CRUEL CHARMER Bare thee some lioness wild in Lybian wold? Or Scylla barking from low\u2019st inguinal fold? With so black spirit, of so dure a mould, E\u2019en voice of suppliant must thou disregard In latest circumstance ah, heart o\u2019er hard? Epithalamium On Vinia And Manlius Of Helicon-hill, O Thou that be Haunter, Urania\u2019s progeny, Who hurriest soft virginity To man, O Hymenaeus Hymen, O Hymen Hymenaeus. About thy temples bind the bloom, Of Marjoram flow\u2019ret scented sweet; Take flamey veil: glad hither come Come hither borne by snow-hue\u2019d feet Wearing the saffron\u2019d sock. And, roused by day of joyful cheer, Carolling nuptial lays and chaunts With voice as silver ringing clear, Beat ground with feet, while brandisht flaunts Thy hand the piney torch. For Vinia comes by Manlius woo\u2019d, As Venus on th\u2019 Idalian crest, Before the Phrygian judge she stood And now with blessed omens blest, The maid is here to wed. A maiden shining bright of blee, As Myrtle branchlet Asia bred, Which Hamadryad deity As toy for joyance aye befed With humour of the dew. Then hither come thou, hieing lief, Awhile to leave th\u2019 Aonian cave, Where \u2019neath the rocky Thespian cliff Nymph Aganippe loves to lave In cooly waves outpoured. And call the house-bride, homewards bring Maid yearning for new married fere, Her mind with fondness manacling, As the tough ivy here and there Errant the tree enwinds. And likewise ye, clean virginal Maidens, to whom shall haps befall Like day, in measure join ye all Singing, O Hymenaeus Hymen, O Hymen Hymenaeus. That with more will-full will a-hearing The call to office due, he would Turn footsteps hither, here appearing, Guide to good Venus, and the good Lover conjoining strait. What God than other Godheads more Must love-sick wights for aid implore? Whose Godhead foremost shall adore Mankind? O Hymenaeus Hymen, O Hymen Hymenaeus. Thee for his own the trembling sire Invokes, thee Virgins ever sue Who laps of zone to loose aspire, And thee the bashful bridegrooms woo With ears that long to hear. Thou to the hand of love-fierce swain Deliverest maiden fair and fain, From mother\u2019s fondling bosom ta\u2019en Perforce, O Hymenaeus Hymen O Hymen Hymenaeus. Thou lacking, Venus ne\u2019er avails\u2014 While Fame approves for honesty\u2014 Love-joys to lavish: ne\u2019er she fails Thou willing:\u2014with such Deity Whoe\u2019er shall dare compare? Thou wanting, never son and heir The Hearth can bear, nor parents be By issue girt, yet can it bear, Thou willing:\u2014with such Deity, Whoe\u2019er shall dare compare? An lack a land thy sacring rite, The perfect rule we ne\u2019er shall see Reach Earth\u2019s far bourne; yet such we sight, Thou willing:\u2014with such Deity Whoe\u2019er shall dare compare? Your folds ye gateways wide-ope swing! The maiden comes.Seest not the sheen Of links their splendent tresses fling? Let shame retard the modest mien. Who more she hears us weeps the more, That needs she must advance. Cease raining tear-drops! not for thee, Aurunculeia, risk we deem, That fairer femininety Clear day outdawned from Ocean stream Shall ever more behold. Such in the many-tinted bower Of rich man\u2019s garden passing gay Upstands the hyacinthine flower. But thou delayest, wanes the day: \u201cPrithee, come forth new Bride.\u201d Prithee, come forth new Bride! methinks, Drawing in sight, the talk we hold Thou haply hearest.See the Links! How shake their locks begilt with gold: Prithee, new Bride come forth. Not lightly given thy mate to ill Joys and adulterous delights Foul fleshly pleasures seeking still Shall ever choose he lie o\u2019 nights Far from thy tender paps. But as with pliant shoots the vine Round nearest tree-trunk winds her way, He shall be ever twined in thine Embraces:\u2014 yet, lo! wanes the day: Prithee, come forth new Bride! Couchlet which to me and all With bright white bedstead foot. What joys the lord of thee betide! What love-liesse on vaguing way O\u2019 nights! What sweets in morning tide For thee be stored! Yet wanes the day: Prithee, come forth fresh Bride! Your lighted links, O boys, wave high: I see the flamey veil draw nigh: Hie, sing in merry mode and cry O Hymen Hymenaeus io, O Hymen Hymenaeus! Lest longer mute tongue stays that joys In festal jest, from Fescennine, Nor yet denay their nuts to boys, He-Concubine! who learns in fine His lordling\u2019s love is fled. Throw nuts to boys thou idle all He-Concubine! wast fain full long With nuts to play: now pleased as thrall Be thou to swell Talasios\u2019 throng: He-Concubine throw nuts. Wont thou at peasant-girls to jape He-whore! Thy Lord\u2019s delight the while: Now shall hair-curling chattel scrape Thy cheeks: poor wretch, ah! poor and vile:\u2014 He-Concubine, throw nuts. \u2019Tis said from smooth-faced ingle train (Anointed bridegroom!) hardly fain Hast e\u2019er refrained; now do refrain! O Hymen Hymenaeus io, O Hymen Hymenaeus! We know that naught save licit rites Be known to thee, but wedded wights No more deem lawful such delights. O Hymen Hymenaeus io, O Hymen Hymenaeus. Thou too, O Bride, whatever dare Thy groom, of coy rebuff beware, Lest he to find elsewhither fare. O Hymen Hymenaeus io, O Hymen Hymenaeus. Lo! here the house of high degree Thy husband\u2019s puissant home to be, Which ever shall obey thy gree. O Hymen Hymenaeus io, O Hymen Hymenaeus! Till Time betide when eld the hoar Thy head and temples trembling o\u2019er Make nod to all things evermore. O Hymen Hymenaeus io, O Hymen Hymenaeus. O\u2019erstep with omen meetest meet The threshold-stone thy golden feet Up, past the polisht panels fleet. O Hymen Hymenaeus io, O Hymen Hymerneus. Within bestrewn thy bridegroom see On couch of Tyrian cramoisy All imminent awaiting thee. O Hymen Hymenaeus io, O Hymen Hymenaeus. For in his breast not less than thine Burn high the flames that deepest shrine, Yet his the lowe far deeper lien. O Hymen Hymemeus io, O Hymen Hymenaeus. Let fall the maid\u2019s soft arms, thou fair Boy purple-hem\u2019d: now be thy care Her bridegroom\u2019s couch she seek and share. O Hymen Hymenaeus io, O Hymen Hymenaeus. Ye wives time-tried to husbands wed, Well-known for chastity inbred, Dispose the virginette a-bed. O Hymen Hymenaeus io, O Hymen Hymenaeus. Groom, now \u2019tis meet thou hither pace, With bride in genial bed to blend, For sheenly shines her flowery face Where the white chamomiles contend With poppies blushing red. Yet bridegroom (So may Godhead deign Help me!) nowise in humbler way Art fair, nor Venus shall disdain Thy charms, but look! how wanes the day: Forward, nor loiter more! No longer loitering makest thou, Now comest thou.May Venus good Aid thee when frankly takest thou Thy wishes won, nor true Love woo\u2019d Thou carest to conceal. Of Afric\u2019s wolds and wilds each grain, Or constellations glistening, First reckon he that of the twain To count alone were fain to bring The many thousand joys. Play as ye please: soon prove ye deft At babying babes,\u2014\u2019twere ill design\u2019d A name thus ancient should be left Heirless, but issue like of kind Engendered aye should be. A wee Torquaitus fain I\u2019d see Encradled on his mother\u2019s breast Put forth his tender puds while he Smiles to his sire with sweetest gest And liplets half apart. Let son like father\u2019s semblance show (Manlius!) so with easy guess All know him where his sire they know, And still his face and form express His mother\u2019s honest love. Approve shall fair approof his birth From mother\u2019s seed-stock generous, As rarest fame of mother\u2019s worth Unique exalts Telemachus Penelope\u2019s own son. Fast close the door-leaves, virgin band: Enow we\u2019ve played.But ye the fair New-wedded twain live happy, and Functions of lusty married pair Exercise sans surcease. Nuptial Song By Youths And Damsels Epithalamium Youths Vesper is here, O youths, rise all; for Vesper Olympus Scales and in fine enfires what lights so long were expected! Time \u2019tis now to arise, now leave we tables rich laden, Now shall the Virgin come; now chaunt we the Hymenaeus. Hymen O Hymenaeus: Hymen here, O Hymenaeus! Damsels View ye the Youths, O Maids unwed? Then rise to withstand them: Doubtless the night-fraught Star displays his splendour Oetean. Sooth \u2019tis so; d\u2019ye sight how Speedily sprang they to warfare? Nor for a naught up-sprang: they\u2019ll Sing what need we to conquer. Hymen O Hymenaeus: Hymen here, O Hymenaeus! Youths Nowise easy the palm for us (Companions!) be proffer\u2019d, Lo! now the maidens muse and meditate matter of forethought Nor meditate they in vain; they muse a humorous something. Yet naught wonder it is, their sprites be wholly in labour. We bear divided thought one way and hearing in other: Vanquish\u2019t by right we must be, since Victory loveth the heedful. Therefore at least d\u2019ye turn your minds the task to consider, Soon shall begin their say whose countersay shall befit you. Hymen O Hymenaeus: Hymen here, O Hymenaeus! Damsels Hesperus! say what flame more cruel in Heaven be fanned? Thou who the girl perforce canst tear from a mother\u2019s embraces, Tear from a parent\u2019s clasp her child despite of her clinging And upon love-hot youth bestowest her chastest of maidenhoods! What shall the foeman deal more cruel to city becaptured? Hymen O Hymenaeus, Hymen here, O Hymenaeus! Youths Hesperus! say what flame more gladsome in Heavens be shining? Thou whose light makes sure long-pledged connubial promise Plighted erewhile by men and erstwhile plighted by parents. Yet to be ne\u2019er fulfilled before thy fire\u2019s ardours have risen! What better boon can the gods bestow than hour so desir\u00e8d? Hymen O Hymenaeus, Hymen here, O Hymenaeus! Damsels Hesperus! one of ourselves (Companions!) carried elsewhither Hymen O Hymenaeus, Hymen here, O Hymenaeus! Youths For at thy coming in sight a guard is constantly watching. Hidden o\u2019nights lurk thieves and these as oft as returnest, Hesper! thou seizest them with title changed to Eous. Pleases the bevy unwed with feigned complaints to accuse thee. What if assail they whom their souls in secrecy cherish? Hymen O Hymenaeus, Hymen here, O Hymenaeus! Damsels E\u2019en as a flow\u2019ret born secluded in garden enclosed, Unto the flock unknown and ne\u2019er uptorn by the ploughshare, Soothed by the zephyrs and strengthened by suns and nourish\u2019t by showers Loves her many a youth and longs for her many a maiden: Yet from her lissome stalk when cropt that flower deflowered, Loves her never a youth nor longs for her ever a maiden: Thus while the virgin be whole, such while she\u2019s the dearling of kinsfolk; Yet no sooner is lost her bloom from body polluted, Neither to youths she is joy, nor a dearling she to the maidens. Hymen O Hymenaeus, Hymen here, O Hymenaeus! Youths E\u2019en as an unmated vine which born in field of the barest Never upraises head nor breeds the mellowy grape-bunch, But under weight prone-bowed that tender body a-bending Makes she her root anon to touch her topmost of tendrils; Tends her never a hind nor tends her ever a herdsman: Yet if haply conjoined the same with elm as a husband, Tends her many a hind and tends her many a herdsman: Thus is the maid when whole, uncultured waxes she aged; But whenas union meet she wins her at ripest of seasons, More to her spouse she is dear and less she\u2019s irk to her parents. Hymen O Hymenaeus, Hymen here, O Hymenaeus! Youths and Damsels But do thou cease to resist (O Maid!) such bridegroom opposing, Right it is not to resist whereto consigned thee a father, Father and mother of thee unto whom obedience is owing. Not is that maidenhood all thine own, but partly thy parents! Owneth thy sire one third, one third is right of thy mother, Only the third is thine: stint thee to strive with the others, Who to the stranger son have yielded their dues with a dower! Hymen O Hymenaeus: Hymen here, O Hymenaeus! THE ADVENTURES OF ATYS O\u2019er high deep seas in speedy ship his voyage Atys sped Until he trod the Phrygian grove with hurried eager tread And as the gloomy tree-shorn stead, the she-god\u2019s home, he sought There sorely stung with fiery ire and madman\u2019s vaguing thought, Share he with sharpened flint the freight wherewith his form was fraught. Then as the she-he sensed limbs were void of manly strain And sighted freshly shed a-ground spot of ensanguined stain, Snatched she the timbrel\u2019s legier load with hands as snowdrops white, Thy timbrel, Mother Cybele, the firstings of thy rite, And as her tender finger-tips on bull-back hollow rang She rose a-grieving and her song to listening comrades sang. Up Gallae, hie together, haste for Cybele\u2019s deep grove, Hie to the Dindymnean dame, ye flocks that love to rove; The which affecting stranger steads as bound in exile\u2019s brunt My sect pursuing led by me have nerved you to confront The raging surge of salty sea and ocean\u2019s tyrant hand As your hate of Venus\u2019 hest your manly forms unmann\u2019d, Gladden your souls, ye mistresses, with sense of error bann\u2019d. Drive from your spirits dull delay, together follow ye To hold of Phrygian goddess, home of Phrygian Cybebe, Whereloud the cymbal\u2019s voice resounds with timbrel-echoes blending, And where the Phrygian piper drones grave bass from reed a-bending, Where toss their ivy-circled heads with might the Maenades Where ply mid shrilly lullilooes the holiest mysteries, Where to fly here and there be wont the she-god\u2019s vaguing train, Thither behoves us lead the dance in quick-step hasty strain. Soon as had Atys (bastard-she) this lay to comrades sung The Chorus sudden lulliloos with quivering, quavering tongue, Again the nimble timbrel groans, the scooped-out cymbals clash, And up green Ida flits the Choir, with footsteps hurrying rash Then Atys frantic, panting, raves, a-wandering, lost, insane, And leads with timbrel hent and treads the shades where shadows rain, Like heifer spurning load of yoke in yet unbroken pride; And the swift Gallae follow fain their first and fleet-foot guide. But when the home of Cybele they make with toil out-worn O\u2019er much, they lay them down to sleep and gifts of Ceres scorn; Till heavy slumbers seal their eyelids langourous, drooping lowly, And raving frenzy flies each brain departing softly, slowly. But when Dan Sol with radiant eyes that fire his face of gold Surveyed white aether and solid soil and waters uncontrol\u2019d, And chased with steeds sonorous-hooved the shades of lingering night, Then sleep from waking Atys fled fleeting with sudden flight, By Nymph Pasithae welcomed to palpitating breast. Thus when his frenzy raging rash was soothed to gentlest rest, Atys revolved deeds lately done, as thought from breast unfolding, And what he\u2019d lost and what he was with lucid sprite beholding, To shallows led by surging soul again the way \u2019gan take. There casting glance of weeping eyes where vasty billows brake, Sad-voiced in pitifullest lay his native land bespake. Country of me, Creatress mine, born to thee and bred, By hapless me abandoned as by thrall from lordling fled, When me to Ida\u2019s groves and glades these vaguing footsteps bore To tarry \u2019mid the snows and where lurk beasts in antres frore And seek the deeply hidden lairs where furious ferals meet! Where, Country! whither placed must I now hold thy site and seat? Lief would these balls of eyes direct to thee their line of sight, Which for a while, a little while, would free me from despite. Must I for ever roam these groves from house and home afar? Of country, parents, kith and kin (life\u2019s boon) myself debar? Fly Forum, flyPalestra, fly the Stadium, the Gymnase? Wretch, ah poor wretch, I\u2019m doomed (my soul!) to mourn throughout my days, For what of form or figure is, which I failed to enjoy? I full-grown man, I blooming youth, I stripling, I a boy, I of Gymnasium erst the bloom, I too of oil the pride: Warm was my threshold, ever stood my gateways opening wide, My house was ever garlanded and hung with flowery freight, And couch to quit with rising sun, has ever been my fate: Now must I Cybele\u2019s she-slave, priestess of gods, be hight? I Maenad I, mere bit of self, I neutral barren wight? I spend my life-tide couch\u2019t beneath high-towering Phrygian peaks? I dwell on Ida\u2019s verdant slopes mottled with snowy streaks, Where homes the forest-haunting doe, where roams the wildling boar? Now, now I rue my deed foredone, now, now it irks me sore! Whenas from out those roseate lips these accents rapid flew, Bore them to ears divine consigned a Nuncio true and new; Then Cybele her lions twain disjoining from their yoke The left-hand enemy of the herds a-goading thus bespoke: Up feral fell! up, hie with him, see rage his foot-steps urge, See that his fury smite him till he seek the forest verge, He who with over-freedom fain would fly mine empery. Go, slash thy flank with lashing tail and sense the strokes of thee, Make the whole mountain to thy roar sound and resound again, And fiercely toss thy brawny neck that bears the tawny mane! So quoth an angered Cybele, and yoke with hand untied: The feral rose in fiery wrath and self-inciting hied, A-charging, roaring through the brake with breaking paws he tore. But when he reached the humid sands where surges cream the shore, Spying soft Atys lingering near the marbled pave of sea He springs: the terror-madded wretch back to the wood doth flee, Where for the remnant of her days a bondmaid\u2019s life led she. Great Goddess, Goddess Cybele, Dindymus dame divine, Far from my house and home thy wrath and wrack, dread mistress mine: Goad others on with Fury\u2019s goad, others to Ire consign! Marriage of Peleus and Thetis Pine-trees gendered whilome upon soaring Peliac summit Swam (as the tale is told) through liquid surges of Neptune Far as the Phasis-flood and frontier-land Aeetean; Whenas the youths elect, of Argive vigour the oak-heart, Longing the Golden Fleece of the Colchis-region to harry, Dared in a poop swift-paced to span salt seas and their shallows, Sweeping the deep blue seas with sweeps a-carven of fir-wood. She, that governing Goddess of citadels crowning the cities, Builded herself their car fast-flitting with lightest of breezes, Weaving plants of the pine conjoined in curve of the kelson; Foremost of all to imbue rude Amphitrite with ship-lore. Soon as her beak had burst through wind-rackt spaces of ocean, While the oar-tortured wave with spumy whiteness was blanching, Surged from the deep abyss and hoar-capped billows the faces Seaborn, Nereids eyeing theprodigy wonder-smitten. There too mortal orbs through softened spendours regarded Ocean-nymphs who exposed bodies denuded of raiment Bare to the breast upthrust from hoar froth capping the sea-depths. Then Thetis Peleus fired (men say) a-sudden with love, Then Thetis nowise spurned to mate and marry with mortal, Then Thetis\u2019 Sire himself her yoke with Peleus sanctioned. Oh, in those happier days now fondly yearned-for, you heroes Born; (all hail!) of the gods begotten, and excellent issue Bred by your mothers, all hail! and placid deal me your favour. Oft with the sound of me, in strains and spells I\u2019ll invoke you; You too by wedding-torch so happily, highly augmented, Peleus, Thessaly\u2019s ward, in whose favor Jupiter himself, The Father of the gods, resigned his passions. You Thetis, fairest of maids Nereian, vouchsafed to marry? You did Tethys empower to woo and wed with her grandchild; Nor less Oceanus, with water compassing th\u2019 Earth-globe? But when ended the term, and wisht-for light of the day-tide Uprose, flocks to the house in concourse mighty, convened, Thessaly all, with glad assembly the Palace fulfilling: Presents afore they bring, and joy in faces declare they. Cieros abides a desert: they quit Phthiotican Tempe, Homesteads of Crannon-town, eke bulwarkt walls Larissa; Meeting at Pharsalus, and roof Pharsalian seeking. None will the fields now till; soft wax all necks the oxen, Never the humble vine is purged by curve of the rake-tooth, Never a pruner\u2019s hook thins out the shade of the tree-tufts, Never a bull up-plows broad glebe with bend of the coulter, Over whose point unuse displays the squalor of rust-stain. But in the homestead\u2019s heart, where\u2019er that opulent palace Hides a retreat, all shines with splendour of gold and of silver. Ivory blanches the seats, bright gleam the flagons a-table, All of the mansion joys in royal riches and grandeur. But for the Diva\u2019s use bestrewn is the genial bedstead, Hidden in midmost stead, and its polisht framework of Indian Tusk underlies its cloth empurpled by juice of the dye-shell. This be a figured cloth with forms of manhood primeval Showing by marvel-art the gifts and graces of heroes. Here upon Dia\u2019s strand wave-resonant, ever-regarding Theseus borne from sight outside by fleet of the fleetest, Stands Ariadne with heart full-filled with furies unbated, Nor can her sense as yet believe she \u2019spies the espied, When like one that awakes new roused from slumber deceptive, Sees she her hapless self lone left on loneliest sandbank: While as the mindless youth with oars disturbeth the shallows, Casts to the windy storms what vows he vainly had vowed. Him through the sedges afar the sad-eyed maiden of Minos, Likest a Bacchant-girl stone-carven, (O her sorrow!) \u2019Spies, a-tossing the while on sorest billows of love-care. Now no more on her blood-hued hair fine fillets retains she, No more now light veil conceals her bosom erst hidden, Now no more smooth zone contains her milky-hued paplets: All gear dropping adown from every part of her person Thrown, lie fronting her feet to the briny wavelets a sea-toy. But at such now no more of her veil or her fillet a-floating Had she regard: on you, Theseus! all of her heart-strength, All of her sprite, her mind, forlorn, were evermore hanging. Ah, sad soul, by grief and grievance driven beside you, Sowed Erycina first those brambly cares in thy bosom, What while issuing fierce with will enstarkened, Theseus Forth from thebow-bent shore Piraean putting a-seawards Reacht the Gortynian roofs where dwelt the injurious Monarch. For \u2019twas told of yore how forced by pestilence cruel, Eke as a blood rite due for the Androgeonian murder, Many a chosen youth and the bloom of damsels unmarried Food for the Minotaur, Cecropia was wont to befurnish. Seeing his narrow walls in such wise vexed with evils, Theseus of freest will for dear-loved Athens his body Offered a victim so that no more to Crete be deported Lives by Cecropia doomed to burials burying nowise; Then with a swifty ship and soft breathed breezes a-stirring, Sought he Minos the Haughty where homed in proudest of Mansions. Him as with yearning glance forthright espied the royal Maiden, whom pure chaste couch aspiring delicate odours Cherisht, in soft embrace of a mother comforted all-whiles, (E\u2019en as the myrtles begot by the flowing floods of Eurotas, Or as the tincts distinct brought forth by breath of the springtide) Never the burning lights of her eyes from gazing upon him Turned she, before fierce flame in all her body conceived she Down in its deepest depths and burning within her marrow. Ah, with unmitigate heart exciting wretchedmost furies, You, Boy sacrosanct! man\u2019s grief and gladness commingling, You too of Golgos Queen and Lady of leafy Idalium, Whelm\u2019d you in what manner waves that maiden fantasy-fired, All for a blond-haired youth suspiring many a singulf! Whiles how dire was the dread she dreed in languishing heart-strings; How yet more, ever more, with golden splendour she paled! Whenas yearning to mate his might with the furious monster Theseus braved his death or sought the prizes of praises. Then of her gifts to gods not ingrate, nor profiting naught, Promise with silent lip, addressed she timidly vowing. For as an oak that shakes on topmost summit of Taurus Its boughs, or cone-growing pine from bole bark resin exuding, Whirlwind of passing might that twists the stems with its storm-blasts, Uproots, deracinates, forthright its trunk to the farthest, Prone falls, shattering wide what lies in line of its downfall,\u2014 Thus was that wildling flung by Theseus and vanquisht of body, Vainly tossing its horns and goring the wind to no purpose. Thence with abounding praise returned he, guiding his footsteps, While a fine drawn thread checked steps in wander abounding, Lest when issuing forth of the winding maze labyrinthine Baffled become his track by inobservable error. But for what cause should I, from early subject digressing, Tell of the daughter who the face of her sire unseeing, Eke her sister\u2019s embrace nor less her mother\u2019s endearments, Who in despair bewept her hapless child that so gladly Chose before every and each the lively wooing of Theseus? Or how borne by the ship to the yeasting shore-line of Dia Came she? or how when bound her eyes in bondage of slumber Left her that chosen mate with mind unmindful departing? Often (they tell) with heart inflamed by fiery fury Poured she shrilling of shrieks from deepest depths of her bosom; Now she would sadly scale the broken faces of mountains, Whence she might overglance the boundless boiling of billows, Then she wouldrush to bestem the salt-plain\u2019s quivering wavelet And from her ankles bare the dainty garment uplifting, Spoke she these words (\u2019tis said) from sorrow\u2019s deepest abysses, While from her tear-drencht face outburst cold shivering sobs. Thus from my patrial shore, O traitor, hurried to exile, Me on a lonely strand hast left, perfidious Theseus? Thus wise farest, despite the godhead of Deities spurned, (Reckless, alas!) to your home convoying perjury-curses? Naught, then, ever availed that mind of cruelest counsel Alter? No saving grace in you was evermore ready, That to have pity on me vouchsafed your pitiless bosom? Nevertheless not in past time such were the promises wordy Lavished; nor such hopes to me the hapless were bidden; But the glad married joys, the longed-for pleasures of wedlock. All now empty and vain, by breath of the breezes bescattered! Now, let woman no more trust her to man when he sweareth, Ne\u2019er let her hope to find or truth or faith in his pleadings, Who when lustful thought forelooks to somewhat attaining, Never an oath they fear, shall spare no promise to promise. Yet no sooner they sate all lewdness and lecherous fancy, Nothing remember of words and reck they naught of fore-swearing. Certes, you did I snatch from midmost whirlpool of ruin Deadly, and held it cheap loss of a brother to suffer Rather than fail your need (O false!) at hour the supremest. Therefore my limbs are doomed to be torn of birds, and of ferals Prey, nor shall upheapt Earth afford a grave to my body. Say me, what lioness bare you \u2019neath lone rock of the desert? What sea spued you conceived from out the spume of his surges! What manner Syrt, what ravening Scylla, what vasty Charybdis? you who for sweet life saved such meeds are lief of returning! If never willed your breast with me to mate you in marriage, Hating the savage law decreed by primitive parent, Still of your competence \u2019twas within your household to home me, Where I might serve as slave in gladsome service familiar, Laving your snow-white feet in clearest chrystalline waters Or with its purpling gear your couch in company strewing. Yet for what cause should I complain in vain to the winds that unknow me, (I so beside me with grief!) which ne\u2019er of senses endued Hear not the words sent forth nor aught avail they to answer? Now be his course well-nigh engaged in midway of ocean, Nor any mortal shape appears in barrens of sea-wrack. Thus at the latest hour with insults over-sufficient E\u2019en to my plaints fere Fate begrudges ears that would hear me. Jupiter! Lord of All-might, Oh would in days that are bygone Ne\u2019er had Cecropian poops toucht ground at Gnossian foreshore, Nor to the unconquered Bull that tribute direful conveying Had the false Seaman bound to Cretan island his hawser, Nor had yon evil wight, \u2019neath shape the softest hard purpose Hiding, enjoyed repose within our mansion beguested! Whither can wend I now? What hope lends help to the lost one? Idomenean mounts shall I scale? Ah, parted by whirlpools Widest, yon truculent main where yields it power of passage? Aid of my sire can I crave? Whom I willing abandoned, Treading in tracks of a youth bewrayed with blood of a brother! Can I console my soul with the helpful love of a helpmate Who flies me with pliant oars, flies overbounding the sea-depths? Nay, if this Coast I quit, this lone isle lends me no roof-tree, Nor aught issue allows begirt by billows of Ocean: Nowhere is path for flight: none hope shows: all things are silent: All be a desolate waste: all makes display of destruction. Yet never close these eyes in latest languor of dying, Ne\u2019er from my wearied frame go forth slow-ebbing my senses, Ere from the Gods just doom implore I, treason-betrayed, And with my breath supreme firm faith of Celestials invoke I. Therefore, O you who \u2019venge man\u2019s deed with penalties direful, Eumenides! aye wont to bind with viperous hairlocks Foreheads,\u2014Oh, deign outspeak fierce wrath from bosom outbreathing, Hither, Oh hither, speed, and lend you all ear to my grievance, Which now sad I (alas!) outpour from innermost vitals Maugre my will, sans help, blind, fired with furious madness. And, as indeed all spring from veriest core of my bosom, Suffer you not the cause of grief and woe to evanish; But with the Will wherewith could Theseus leave me in loneness, Goddesses! bid that Will lead him, lead his, to destruction. E\u2019en as she thus poured forth these words from anguish of bosom, And for this cruel deed, distracted, sued she for vengeance, Nodded the Ruler of Gods Celestial, matchless of All-might, When at the gest earth-plain and horrid spaces of ocean Trembled, and every sphere rockt stars and planets resplendent. Meanwhile Theseus himself, obscured in blindness of darkness As to his mind, dismiss\u2019d from breast oblivious all things Erewhile enjoined and held hereto in memory constant, Nor for his saddened sire the gladness-signals uphoisting Heralded safe return within sight of the Erechthean harbour. For \u2019twas told of yore, when from walls of the Virginal Deess Aegeus speeding his son, to the care of breezes committed, Thus with a last embrace to the youth spoke words of commandment: Son! far nearer my heart (you alone) than life of the longest, Son, I perforce dismiss to doubtful, dangerous chances, Lately restored to me when eld draws nearest his ending, Since such fortune in me, and in you such boiling of valour Tear you away from me so loath, whose eyes in their languor Never are sated with sight of my son, all-dearest of figures. Nor will I send you forth with joy that gladdens my bosom, Nor will I suffer you show boon signs of favouring Fortune, But from my soul I\u2019ll first express an issue of sorrow, Soiling my hoary hairs with dust and ashes commingled; Then will I hang stained sails fast-made to the wavering yard-arms, So shall our mourning thought and burning torture of spirit Show by the dark sombre-dye of Iberian canvas spread. But, grant me the grace Who dwells in Sacred Itone, (And our issue to guard and ward the seats of Erechtheus Sware She) that if your right is besprent with blood of the Man-Bull, Then do you so-wise act, and stored in memory\u2019s heart-core Dwell these mandates of me, no time their traces untracing. Dip, when first shall arise our hills to gladden your eye-glance, Down from your every mast the ill-omened vestments of mourning, Then let the twisten ropes upheave the whitest of canvas, Wherewith splendid shall gleam the tallest spars of the top-mast, These seeing sans delay with joy exalting my spirit Well shall I wot boon Time sets you returning before me. Such were the mandates which stored at first in memory constant Faded from Theseus\u2019 mind like mists, compelled by the whirlwind, Fleet from aerial crests of mountains hoary with snow-drifts. But as the sire had sought the citadel\u2019s summit for outlook, Wasting his anxious eyes with tear-floods evermore flowing, Forthright e\u2019en as he saw the sail-gear darkened with dye-stain, Headlong himself flung he from the sea-cliff\u2019s pinnacled summit Holding his Theseus lost by doom of pitiless Fortune. Thus as he came to the home funest, his roof-tree paternal, Theseus (vaunting the death), what dule to the maiden of Minos Dealt with unminding mind so dree\u2019d he similar dolour. She too gazing in grief at the kelson vanishing slowly, Self-wrapt, manifold cares revolved in spirit perturbed. ON ANOTHER PART OF THE COVERLET But from the further side came flitting bright-faced Iacchus Girded by Satyr-crew and Nysa-reared Sileni Burning with love unto thee (Ariadne!) and greeting thy presence. Who flocking eager to fray did rave with infuriate spirit, Evoe frenzying loud, with heads at Evoe rolling. Brandisht some of the maids their thyrsi sheathed of spear-point, Some snatcht limbs and joints of sturlings rended to pieces, These girt necks and waists with writhing bodies of vipers, Those with the gear enwombed in crates dark orgies ordained\u2014 Orgies that ears profane must vainly lust for o\u2019er hearing\u2014 Others with palms on high smote hurried strokes on the cymbal, Or from the polisht brass woke thin-toned tinkling music, While from the many there boomed and blared hoarse blast of the horn-trump, And with its horrid skirl loud shrilled the barbarous bag-pipe Showing such varied forms, that richly-decorated couch-cloth Folded in strait embrace the bedding drapery-veiled. This when the Thessalan youths had eyed with eager inspection Fulfilled, place they began to provide for venerate Godheads, Even as Zephyrus\u2019 breath, seas couching placid at dawn-tide, Roughens, then stings and spurs the wavelets slantingly fretted\u2014 Rising Aurora the while \u2019neath Sol the wanderer\u2019s threshold\u2014 Tardy at first they flow by the clement breathing of breezes Urged, and echo the shores with soft-toned ripples of laughter, But as the winds wax high so waves wax higher and higher, Flashing and floating afar to outswim morn\u2019s purpurine splendours,\u2014 So did the crowd fare forth, the royal vestibule leaving, And to their house each wight with vaguing paces departed. After their wending, the first, foremost from Pelion\u2019s summit, Chiron came to the front with woodland presents surcharged: Whatso of blooms and flowers bring forth Thessalian uplands Mighty with mountain crests, whate\u2019er of riverine lea flowers Reareth Favonius\u2019 air, bud-breeding, tepidly breathing, All in his hands brought he, unseparate in woven garlands, Whereat laughed the house as soothed by pleasure of perfume. Presently P\u00e9neus appears, deserting verdurous Tempe\u2014 Tempe girt by her belts of greenwood ever impending, Left for the Mamonides with frequent dances to worship\u2014 Nor is he empty of hand, for bears he tallest of beeches Deracinate, and bays with straight boles lofty and stately, Not without nodding plane-tree nor less the flexible sister Fire-slain Pha\u00ebton left, and not without cypresses airy. These in a line wide-broke set he, the Mansion surrounding, So by the soft leaves screened, the porch might flourish in verdure. Follows hard on his track with active spirit Prometheus, Bearing extenuate sign of penalties suffer\u2019d in by-gones. Paid erewhiles what time fast-bound as to every member, Hung he in carkanet slung from the Scythian rocktor. Last did the Father of Gods with his sacred spouse and his offspring, Proud from the Heavens proceed, thee leaving (Phoebus) in loneness, Lone wi\u2019 thy sister twin who haunteth mountains of Idrus: For that the Virgin spurned as thou the person of Peleus, Nor Thetis\u2019 nuptial torch would greet by act of her presence. When they had leaned their limbs upon snowy benches reposing, Tables largely arranged with various viands were garnisht. But, ere opened the feast, with infirm gesture their semblance Shaking, the Parcae fell to chaunting veridique verses. Robed were their tremulous frames all o\u2019er in muffle of garments Bright-white, purple of hem enfolding heels in its edges; Snowy the fillets that bound heads aged by many a year-tide, And, as their wont aye was, their hands plied labour unceasing. Each in her left upheld with soft fleece clothed a distaff, Then did the right that drew forth thread with upturn of fingers Gently fashion the yarn which deftly twisted by thumb-ball Speeded the spindle poised by thread-whorl perfect of polish; Thus as the work was wrought, the lengths were trimmed wi\u2019 the fore-teeth, While to their thin, dry lips stuck wool-flecks severed by biting, Which at the first outstood from yarn-hanks evenly fine-drawn. Still at their feet in front soft fleece-flecks white as the snow-flake Lay in the trusty guard of wickers woven in withies. Always a-carding the wool, with clear-toned voices resounding Told they such lots as these in song divinely directed, Chaunts which none after-time shall \u2019stablish falsehood-convicted. 1. O who by virtues great all highmosthonours enhancest, Guard of Em\u00e1thia-land, most famous made by thine offspring, Take what the Sisters deign this gladsome day to disclose thee, Oracles soothfast told,\u2014And ye, by Destiny followed, Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O Spindles. 2. Soon to thy sight shall rise, their fond hopes bringing to bridegrooms, Hesperus: soon shall come thy spouse with planet auspicious, Who shall thy mind enbathe with a love that softens the spirit, And as thyself shall prepare for sinking in languorous slumber, Under thy neck robust, soft arms dispreading as pillow. Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O Spindles. 3. Never a house like this such loves as these hath united, Never did love conjoin by such-like covenant lovers, As th\u2019according tie Thetis deigned in concert wi\u2019 Peleus. Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O Spindles. 4. Born of yon twain shall come Achilles guiltless of fear-sense, Known by his forceful breast and ne\u2019er by back to the foeman, Who shall at times full oft in doubtful contest of race-course Conquer the fleet-foot doe with slot-tracks smoking and burning. Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O Spindles. 5. None shall with him compare, howe\u2019er war-doughty a hero, Whenas the Phrygian rills flow deep with bloodshed of Teucer, And beleaguering the walls of Troy with longest of warfare He shall the works lay low, third heir of Pelops the perjured. Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O Spindles. 6. His be the derring-do and deeds of valour egregious, Often mothers shall own at funeral-rites of their children, What time their hoary hairs from head in ashes are loosened, And wi\u2019 their hands infirm thay smite their bosoms loose dugg\u00e8d. Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O Spindles. 7. For as the toiling hind bestrewing denseness of corn-stalks Under the broiling sun mows grain-fields yellow to harvest, So shall his baneful brand strew earth with corpses of Troy-born. Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O Spindles. 8. Aye to his valorous worth attest shall wave of Scamander Which unto Hell\u00e8-Sea fast flowing ever dischargeth, Straiter whose course shall grow by up-heaped barrage of corpses, While in his depths runs warm his stream with slaughter commingled. Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O Spindles. 9. Witness in fine shall be the victim rendered to death-stroke, Whenas the earthern tomb on lofty tumulus builded Shall of the stricken maid receive limbs white as the snow-flake. Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O Spindles. 10. For when at last shall Fors to weary Achaians her fiat Deal, of Dardanus-town to burst Neptunian fetters, Then shall the high-reared tomb stand bathed with Polyxena\u2019s life-blood, Who, as the victim doomed to fall by the double-edged falchion, Forward wi\u2019 hams relaxt shall smite a body beheaded. Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O Spindles. 11. Wherefore arise, ye pair, conjoin loves ardently longed-for, Now doth the groom receive with happiest omen his goddess, Now let the bride at length to her yearning spouse be delivered. Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O Spindles. 12. Neither the nurse who comes at dawn to visit her nursling E\u2019er shall avail her neck to begird with yesterday\u2019s ribband. [Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O spindles.] Nor shall the mother\u2019s soul for ill-matcht daughter a-grieving Lose by a parted couch all hopes of favourite grandsons. Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O Spindles. Thus in the bygone day Peleus\u2019 fate foretelling Chaunted from breasts divine prophetic verse the Parcae. For that the pure chaste homes of heroes to visit in person Oft-tide the Gods, and themselves to display where mortals were gathered, Wont were the Heavenlies while none human piety spurned. Often the Deities\u2019 Sire, in fulgent temple a-dwelling, Whenas in festal days received he his annual worship, Looked upon hundreds of bulls felled prone on pavement before him. Full oft Liber who roamed from topmost peak of Parnassus Hunted his howling host, his Thyiads with tresses dishevelled. Then with contending troops from all their city outflocking Gladly the Delphians hailed their God with smoking of altars. Often in death-full war and bravest of battle, or Mavors Or rapid Triton\u2019s Queen or eke the Virgin Rhamnusian, Bevies of weaponed men exhorting, proved their presence. But from the time when earth was stained with unspeakable scandals And forth fro\u2019 greeding breasts of all men justice departed, Then did the brother drench his hands in brotherly bloodshed, Stinted the son in heart to mourn decease of his parents, Long\u00e8d the sire to sight his first-born\u2019s funeral convoy So more freely the flower of step-dame-maiden to rifle; After that impious Queen her guiltless son underlying, Impious, the household gods with crime ne\u2019er dreading to sully\u2014 All things fair and nefand being mixt in fury of evil Turned from ourselves avert the great goodwill of the Godheads. Wherefor they nowise deign our human assemblies to visit, Nor do they suffer themselves be met in light of the day-tide. TO HORTALUS LAMENTING A LOST BROTHER. Albeit care that consumes, with dule assiduous grieving, Me from the Learn\u00e8d Maids (Hortalus!) ever seclude, Nor can avail sweet births of the Muses thou to deliver Thought o\u2019 my mind; (so much floats it on flooding of ills: For that the Lethe-wave upsurging of late from abysses, Lav\u00e8d my brother\u2019s foot, paling with pallor of death, He whom the Trojan soil, Rhoetean shore underlying, Buries for ever and aye, forcibly snatched from our sight. I can address; no more shall I hear thee tell of thy doings, Say, shall I never again, brother all liefer than life, Sight thee henceforth? But I will surely love thee for ever Ever what songs I sing saddened shall be by thy death; Such as the Daulian bird \u2019neath gloom of shadowy frondage Warbles, of Itys lost ever bemoaning the lot.) Yet amid grief so great to thee, my Hortalus, send I These strains sung to a mode borrowed from Battiades; Lest shouldest weet of me thy words, to wandering wind-gusts Vainly committed, perchance forth of my memory flowed\u2014 As did that apple sent for a furtive giftie by wooer, In the chaste breast of the Maid hidden a-sudden out-sprang; For did the hapless forget when in loose-girt garment it lurk\u00e8d, Forth would it leap as she rose, scared by her mother\u2019s approach, And while coursing headlong, it rolls far out of her keeping, O\u2019er the triste virgin\u2019s brow flushes the conscious blush. (LOQUITUR) BERENICE\u2019S LOCK. He who every light of the sky world\u2019s vastness inspected, He who mastered in mind risings and settings of stars, How of the fast rising sun obscured be the fiery splendours, How at the seasons assured vanish the planets from view, How Diana to lurk thief-like \u2019neath Latmian stone-fields, Summoned by sweetness of Love, comes from her a\u00ebry gyre; That same C\u00f3non espied among lights Celestial shining Me, Berenice\u2019s Hair, which, from her glorious head, Fulgent in brightness afar, to many a host of the Godheads Stretching her soft smooth arms she vowed to devoutly bestow, What time strengthened by joy of new-made wedlock the monarch Bounds of Assyrian land hurried to plunder and pill; Bearing of nightly strife new signs and traces delicious, Won in the war he waged virginal trophies to win. Loathsome is Venus to all new-paired? Else why be the parents\u2019 Pleasure frustrated aye by the false flow of tears Poured in profusion amid illuminate genial chamber? Nay not real the \u2019groans; ever so help me the Gods! This truth taught me my Queen by force of manifold \u2019plainings After her new groom hied facing the fierceness of fight. Yet so thou mournedst not for a bed deserted of husband, As for a brother beloved wending on woefullest way? How was the marrow of thee consumedly wasted by sorrow! So clean forth of thy breast, rackt with solicitous care, Mind fled, sense being reft! But I have known thee for certain E\u2019en from young virginal years lofty of spirit to be. Hast thou forgotten the feat whose greatness won thee a royal Marriage\u2014a deed so prow, never a prower was dared? Yet how sad was the speech thou spakest, thy husband farewelling! (Jupiter!) Often thine eyes wiping with sorrowful hand! What manner God so great thus changed thee? Is it that lovers Never will tarry afar parted from person beloved? Then unto every God on behalf of thy helpmate, thy sweeting, Me thou gayest in vow, not without bloodshed of bulls, If he be granted return, and long while nowise delaying, Captive Asia he add unto Egyptian bounds. Now for such causes I, enrolled in host of the Heavens, By a new present, discharge promise thou madest of old: Maugr\u00e8 my will, O Queen, my place on thy head I relinquished, Maugr\u00e8 my will, I attest, swearing by thee and thy head; Penalty due shall befall whoso makes oath to no purpose. Yet who assumes the vaunt forceful as iron to be? E\u2019en was that mount o\u2019erthrown, though greatest in universe, where through Th\u00eda\u2019s illustrious race speeded its voyage to end, Whenas the Medes brought forth new sea, and barbarous youth-hood Urged an Armada to swim traversing middle-Athos. What can be done by Hair when such things yield them to Iron? Jupiter! Grant Chalybon perish the whole of the race, Eke who in primal times ore seeking under the surface Showed th\u2019 example, and spalled iron however so hard. Shortly before I was shorn my sister tresses bewail\u00e8d Lot of me, e\u2019en as the sole brother to Memnon the Black, Winnowing upper air wi\u2019 feathers flashing and quiv\u2019ring, Chloris\u2019 wing-borne steed, came before Arsino\u00eb, Whence upraising myself he flies through a\u00ebry shadows, And in chaste Venus\u2019 breast drops he the present he bears. Eke Zephyritis had sent, for the purpose trusted, her bondsman, Settler of Grecian strain on the Canopian strand. So willed various Gods, lest sole \u2019mid lights of the Heavens Should Ariadne\u2019s crown taken from temples of her Glitter in gold, but we not less shine fulgent in splendour, We the consecrate spoils shed by a blond-hued head, Even as weeping-wet sought I the fanes of Celestials Placed me the Goddess a new light amid star-lights of old: For with Virgo in touch and joining the furious Lion\u2019s Radiance with Callisto, maid of Lyc\u00b4on beloved, Wind I still to the west, conducting tardy Bo\u00f6tes, Who unwilling and slow must into Ocean merge. Yet though press me o\u2019night the pacing footprints of Godheads, Tethys, hoary of hair, ever regains me by day. (Lend me thy leave to speak such words, Rhamnusian Virgin, Verities like unto these never in fear will I veil; Albeit every star asperse me with enemy\u2019s censure, Secrets in soothfast heart hoarded perforce I reveal.) Nowise gladdens me so this state as absence torments me, Absence doom\u00ebd for aye ta\u2019en fro\u2019 my mistress\u2019s head, Where I was wont (though she such cares unknew in her girlhood) Many a thousand scents, Syrian unguents, to sip. Now do you pair conjoined by the longed-for light of the torches, Earlier yield not selves unto unanimous wills Nor wi\u2019 the dresses doft your bar\u00e8d nipples encounter, Ere shall yon onyx-vase pour me libations glad, Onyx yours, ye that seek only rights of virtuous bed-rite. But who yieldeth herself unto advowtry impure, Ah! may her loathed gifts in light dust uselessly soak, For of unworthy sprite never a gift I desire. Rather, O new-mated brides, be concord aye your companion, Ever let constant love dwell in the dwellings of you. Yet when thou sightest, O Queen, the Constellations, I pray thee, Every festal day Venus the Goddess appease; Nor of thy unguent-gifts allow myself to be lacking, Nay, do thou rather add largeliest increase to boons. Would but the stars down fall! Could I of my Queen be the hair-lock, Neighbour to Hydrochois e\u2019en let Oarion shine. DIALOGUE CONCERNING CATULLUS AT A HARLOT\u2019S DOOR. Quintus. O to the gentle spouse right dear, right dear to his parent, Hail, and with increase fair Jupiter lend thee his aid, Door, \u2019tis said wast fain kind service render to Balbus Erst while, long as the house by her old owner was held; Yet wast rumoured again to serve a purpose malignant, After the elder was stretched, thou being oped for a bride. Come, then, tell us the why in thee such change be reported That to thy lord hast abjured faithfulness owed of old? Door. Never (so chance I to please Caeci1ius owning me now-a-days!) Is it my own default, how so they say it be mine; Nor can any declare aught sin by me was committed. Yet it is so declared (Quintus!) by fable of folk; Who, whenever they find things done no better than should be, Come to me outcrying all:\u2014Door, the default is thine own! Quintus. This be never enough for thee one-worded to utter, But in such way to deal, each and all sense it and see. Door. What shall I do? None asks, while nobody troubles to know. Quintus. Willing are we? unto us stay not thy saying to say. Door. First let me note that the maid to us committed (assert they) Was but a fraud: her mate never a touch of her had, But that a father durst dishonour the bed of his first-born, Folk all swear, and the house hapless with incest bewray; Or that his impious mind was blunt with fiery passion Or that his impotent son sprang from incapable seed. And to be sought was one with nerve more nervous endow\u00e8d, Who could better avail zone of the virgin to loose. Quintus. \u2019Sooth, of egregious sire for piety wondrous, thou tellest, Who in the heart of his son lief was ! Yet professed herself not only this to be knowing, Brixia-town that lies under the Cycnean cliff, Traversed by Mella-stream\u2019s soft-flowing yellow-hued current, Brixia, V\u00e9rona\u2019s mother, I love for my home. Door. Eke of Posthumius\u2019 loves and Cornelius too there be tattle, With whom dared the dame evil advowtry commit. Quintus. Here might somebody ask:\u2014How, Door, hast mastered such matter? Thou that canst never avail threshold of owner to quit, Neither canst listen to folk since here fast fixt to the side-posts Only one office thou hast, shutting or opening the house. Door. Oft have I heard our dame in furtive murmurs o\u2019er telling, When with her handmaids alone, these her flagitious deeds, Citing fore-cited names for that she never could fancy Ever a Door was endow\u2019d either with earlet or tongue. Further she noted a wight whose name in public to mention Nill I, lest he upraise eyebrows of carroty hue; Long is the loon and large the law-suit brought they against him Touching a child-bed false, claim of a belly that lied. To MANIUS ON VARIOUS MATTERS. When to me sore opprest by bitter chance of misfortune This thy letter thou send\u2019st written wi\u2019 blotting of tears, So might I save thee flung by spuming billows of ocean, Shipwreckt, rescuing life snatcht from the threshold of death; Eke neither Venus the Holy to rest in slumber\u2019s refreshment Grants thee her grace on couch lying deserted and lone, Nor can the Muses avail with dulcet song of old writers Ever delight thy mind sleepless in anxious care; Grateful be this to my thought since thus thy friend I\u2019m entitled, Hence of me seekest thou gifts Muses and Venus can give: But that bide not unknown to thee my sorrows (O Manius!) And lest office of host I should be holden to hate, Learn how in Fortune\u2019s deeps I chance myself to be drown\u00e8d, Nor fro\u2019 the poor rich boons furthermore prithee require. What while first to myself the pure-white garment was given, Whenas my flowery years flowed in fruition of spring, Much I disported enow, nor \u2019bode I a stranger to Goddess Who with our cares is lief sweetness of bitter to mix: Yet did a brother\u2019s death pursuits like these to my sorrow Bid for me cease: Oh, snatcht brother! from wretchedest me. Then, yea, thou by thy dying hast broke my comfort, O brother; Buried together wi\u2019 thee lieth the whole of our house; Perisht along wi\u2019 thyself all gauds and joys of our life-tide, Douce love fostered by thee during the term of our days. After thy doom of death fro\u2019 mind I banish\u00e8d wholly Studies like these, and all lending a solace to soul; Wherefore as to thy writ:\u2014Verona\u2019s home for Catullus Bringeth him shame, for there men of superior mark Must on a deserted couch fain chafe their refrigerate limbs: Such be no shame (Manius!): rather \u2019tis matter of ruth. Pardon me, then, wilt thou an gifts bereft me by grieving These I send not to thee since I avail not present. For, that I own not here abundant treasure of writings Has for its cause, in Rome dwell I; and there am I homed, There be my seat, and there my years are gathered to harvest; Out of book-cases galore here am I followed by one. This being thus, nill I thou deem \u2019tis spirit malignant Acts in such wise or mind lacking of liberal mood That to thy prayer both gifts be not in plenty suppli\u00e8d: Willingly both had I sent, had I the needed supply. Combined with 68 in the print edition. Separated here in keeping with convention. Nor can I (Goddesses!) hide in what things Allius sent me Aid, forbear to declare what was the aidance he deigned: Neither shall fugitive Time from centuries ever oblivious Veil in the blinds of night friendship he lavisht on me. But will I say unto you what you shall say to the many Thousands in turn, and make paper, old crone, to proclaim And in his death become noted the more and the more, Nor let spider on high that weaves her delicate webbing Practise such labours o\u2019er Allius\u2019 obsolete name. For that ye weet right well what care Amath\u00fasia two-faced Gave me, and how she dasht every hope to the ground, Whenas I burnt so hot as burn Trinacria\u2019s rocks or Mallia stream that feeds \u0152t\u00e9an Thermopylae; Nor did these saddened eyes to be dimmed by assiduous weeping Cease, and my cheeks with showers ever in sadness be wet. E\u2019en as from a\u00ebry heights of mountain springeth a springlet Limpidest leaping forth from rocking felted with moss, Then having headlong rolled the prone-laid valley downpouring, Populous region amid wendeth his gradual way, Sweetest solace of all to the sweltering traveller wayworn, Whenas the heavy heat fissures the fiery fields; Or, as to seamen lost in night of whirlwind a-glooming Gentle of breath there comes fairest and favouring breeze, Pollux anon being prayed, nor less vows offered to Castor:\u2014 Such was the aidance to us Manius pleased to afford. He to my narrow domains far wider limits laid open, He too gave me the house, also he gave me the dame, She upon whom both might exert them, partners in love deeds. Thither graceful of gait pacing my goddess white-hued Came and with gleaming foot on the worn sole of the threshold Stood she and prest its slab creakihg her sandals the while; E\u2019enso with love enflamed in olden days to her helpmate, Laodam\u00eda the home Protesil\u00e9an besought, Sought, but in vain, for ne\u2019er wi\u2019 sacrificial blood shed Victims appeased the Lords ruling Celestial seats: Never may I so joy in aught (Rhamnusian Virgin!) That I engage in deed maugr\u00e8 the will of the Lords. How starved altar can crave for gore in piety poured, Laodamia learnt taught by the loss of her man, Driven perforce to loose the neck of new-wedded help-mate, Whenas a winter had gone, nor other winter had come, Ere in the long dark nights her greeding love was so sated That she had power to live maugr\u00e8 a marriage broke off, Which, as the Parcae knew, too soon was fated to happen Should he a soldier sail bound for those llian walls. For that by Helena\u2019s rape, the Champion-leaders of Argives Unto herself to incite Troy had already begun, Troy (ah, curst be the name) common tomb of Asia and Europe, Troy to sad ashes that turned valour and valorous men! Eke to our brother beloved, destruction ever lamented Brought she: O Brother for aye lost unto wretchedmost me, Oh, to thy wretchedmost brother lost the light of his life-tide, Buried together wi\u2019 thee lieth the whole of our house: Perisht along wi\u2019 thyself forthright all joys we enjoy\u00e8d, Douce joys fed by thy love during the term of our days; Whom now art tombed so far nor \u2019mid familiar pavestones Nor wi\u2019 thine ashes stored near to thy kith and thy kin, But in that Troy obscene, that Troy of ill-omen, entomb\u00e8d Holds thee, an alien earth-buried in uttermost bourne. Thither in haste so hot (\u2019tis said) from allwhere the Youth-hood Grecian, far\u00e8d in hosts forth of their hearths and their homes, Lest with a stolen punk with fullest of pleasure should Paris Fairly at leisure and ease sleep in the pacific bed. Such was the hapless chance, most beautiful Laodamia, Tare fro\u2019 thee dearer than life, dearer than spirit itself, Him, that husband, whose love in so mighty a whirlpool of passion Whelmed thee absorbed and plunged deep in its gulfy abyss, E\u2019en as the Grecians tell hard by Phen\u00e9us of Cyll\u00e9ne Drained was the marish and dried, forming the fattest of soils, Whenas in days long done to delve through marrow of mountains Dar\u00e9d, falsing his sire, Amphtry\u00f3niades; What time sure of his shafts he smote Stymphalian monsters Slaying their host at the hest dealt by a lord of less worth, So might the gateway of Heaven be trodden by more of the godheads, Nor might H\u00e9b\u00e9 abide longer to maidenhood doomed. Yet was the depth of thy love far deeper than deepest of marish Which the hard mistress\u2019s yoke taught him so tamely to bear; Never was head so dear to a grandsire wasted by life-tide Whenas one daughter alone a grandson so tardy had reared, Who being found against hope to inherit riches of forbears In the well-witnessed Will haply by name did appear, And \u2019spite impious hopes of baffled claimant to kinship Startles the Vulturine grip clutching the frost-bitten poll. Nor with such rapture e\u2019er joyed his mate of snowy-hued plumage Dove-mate, albeit aye wont in her immoderate heat Said be the bird to snatch hot kisses with beak ever billing, As diddest thou:\u2014yet is Woman multivolent still. But thou \u2019vailedest alone all these to conquer in love-lowe, When conjoindd once more unto thy yellow-haired spouse. Worthy of yielding to her in naught or ever so little Came to the bosom of us she, the fair light of my life, Round whom fluttering oft the Love-God hither and thither Shone with a candid sheen robed in his safflower dress. She though never she bide with one Catullus contented, Yet will I bear with the rare thefts of my dame the discreet, Lest over-irk I give which still of fools is the fashion. Often did Juno eke Queen of the Heavenly host Boil wi\u2019 the rabidest rage at dire default of a husband Learning the manifold thefts of her omnivolent Jove, Yet with the Gods mankind \u2019tis nowise righteous to liken, Rid me of graceless task fit for a tremulous sire. Yet was she never to me by hand paternal committed Whenas she came to my house reeking Assyrian scents; Nay, in the darkness of night her furtive favours she deigned me, Self-willed taking herself from very mate\u2019s very breast. Wherefore I hold it enough since given to us and us only Boon of that day with Stone whiter than wont she denotes. This to thee\u2014all that I can\u2014this offering couched in verses (Allius!) as my return give I for service galore; So wi\u2019 the seabriny rust your name may never be sullied This day and that nor yet other and other again. Hereto add may the Gods all good gifts, which Themis erewhiles Wont on the pious of old from her full store to bestow: Blest be the times of the twain, thyself and she who thy life is, Also the home wherein dallied we, no less the Dame, Anser to boot who first of mortals brought us together, Whence from beginning all good Fortunes that blest us were born. Lastly than every else one dearer than self and far dearer, Light of my life who alive living to me can endear. TO RUFUS THE FETID. Wonder not blatantly why no woman shall ever be willing (Rufus!) her tender thigh under thyself to bestow, Not an thou tempt her full by bribes of the rarest garments, Or by the dear delights gems the pellucidest deal. Harms thee an ugly tale wherein of thee is recorded Horrible stench of the goat under thine arm-pits be lodged. All are in dread thereof; nor wonder this, for \u2019tis evil Beastie, nor damsel fair ever thereto shall succumb. So do thou either kill that cruel pest o\u2019 their noses, Or at their reason of flight blatantly wondering cease. ON WOMAN\u2019S INCONSTANCY. Never, my woman oft says, with any of men will she mate be, Save wi\u2019 my own very self, ask her though Jupiter deign! Says she: but womanly words that are spoken to desireful lover Ought to be written on wind or upon water that runs. TO VERRO. An of a goat-stink damned from armpits fusty one suffer, Or if a crippling gout worthily any one rack, \u2019Tis that rival o\u2019 thine who lief in loves of you meddles, And, by a wondrous fate, gains him the twain of such ills. For that, oft as he , so oft that penance be two-fold; Stifles her stench of goat, he too is kilt by his gout. TO LESBIA THE FALSE. Wont thou to vaunt whil\u00f2me of, knowing only Catullus (Lesbia!) nor to prefer Jupiter\u2019s self to myself. Then, too, I loved thee well, not as vulgar wretch his mistress But as a father his sons loves and his sons by the law. Now have I learnt thee aright; wherefor though burn I the hotter, Lighter and viler by far thou unto me hast become. How can this be? dost ask: \u2019tis that such injury ever Forces the hotter to love, also the less well to will. OF AN INGRATE. Cease thou of any to hope desir\u00e8d boon of well-willing, Or deem any shall prove pious and true to his dues. Waxes the world ingrate, no deed benevolent profits, Nay full oft it irks even offending the more: Such is my case whom none maltreats more grievously bitter, Than does the man that me held one and only to friend. OF GELLIUS. Wont was Gellius hear his uncle rich in reproaches, When any ventured aught wanton in word or in deed. Lest to him chance such befall, his uncle\u2019s consort seduced he, And of his uncle himself fashioned an Harpocrates. What so he willed did he; and nowdays albe his uncle he, no word ever that uncle shall speak. Now is my mind to a pass, my Lesbia, brought by thy treason, So in devotion to thee lost is the duty self due, Nor can I will thee well if best of women thou prove thee, Nor can I cease to love, do thou what doings thou wilt. IN SELF-GRATULATION. If to remember deeds whil\u00f2me well done be a pleasure Meet for a man who deems all of his dealings be just, Nor Holy Faith ever broke nor in whatever his compact Sanction of Gods abused better to swindle mankind, Much there remains for thee during length of living, Catullus, Out of that Love ingrate further to solace thy soul; For whatever of good can mortal declare of another Or can avail he do, such thou hast said and hast done; While to a thankless mind entrusted all of them perisht. Why, then, crucify self now with a furthering pain? Why not steady thy thoughts and draw thee back from such purpose, Ceasing wretched to be maugr\u00e8 the will of the Gods? Difficult \u2019tis indeed long Love to depose of a sudden, Difficult \u2019tis, yet do e\u2019en as thou deem to be best. This be thy safe-guard sole; this conquest needs to be conquered; This thou must do, thus act, whether thou cannot or can. If an ye have (O Gods!) aught ruth, or if you for any Bring at the moment of death latest assistance to man, Look upon me (poor me!) and, should I be cleanly of living, Out of my life deign pluck this my so pestilent plague, Which as a lethargy o\u2019er mine inmost vitals a-creeping, Hath from my bosom expelled all of what joyance it joyed, Now will I crave no more she love me e\u2019en as I love her, Nor (impossible chance!) ever she prove herself chaste: Would I were only healed and shed this fulsome disorder. Oh Gods, grant me this boon unto my piety due! TO RUFUS, THE TRAITOR FRIEND. Rufus, trusted as friend by me, so fruitlessly, vainly, (Vainly? nay to my bane and at a ruinous price!) Hast thou cajoled me thus, and enfiring innermost vitals, Ravished the whole of our good own\u2019d by wretchedest me? Ravished; (alas and alas!) of our life thou cruellest cruel Venom, (alas and alas!) plague of our friendship and pest. Lines 7-10 of poem 77 in this edition are presented below as part of poem 78 in keeping with convention. OF GALLUS. Gallus hath brothers in pair, this owning most beautiful consort, While unto that is given also a beautiful son. Gallus is charming as man; for sweet loves ever conjoins he, So that the charming lad sleep wi\u2019 the charmer his lass. Gallus is foolish wight, nor self regards he as husband, When being uncle how nuncle to cuckold he show. Yet must I now lament that lips so pure of the purest Damsel, thy slaver foul soiled with filthiest kiss. But ne\u2019er hope to escape scot free; for thee shall all ages Know, and what thing thou be, Fame, the old crone, shall declare. OF LESBIUS. Lesbius is beauty-man: why not? when Lesbia wills him Better, Catullus, than thee backed by the whole of thy clan. Yet may that beauty-man sell all his clan with Catullus, An of three noted names greeting salute he can gain. TO GELLIUS. How shall I (Gellius!) tell what way lips rosy as thine are Come to be bleached and blanched whiter than wintry snow, When as thou quittest the house a-morn, and at two after noon-tide Roused from quiet repose, wakest for length of the day? Cert\u00e8s sure am I not an Rumour rightfully whisper TO JUVENTIUS. Could there never be found in folk so thronging (Juventius!) Any one charming thee whom thou couldst fancy to love, Save and except that host from deadliest site of Pisaurum, Wight than a statue gilt wanner and yellower-hued, Whom to thy heart thou takest and whom thou darest before us Choose? But villain what deed doest thou little canst wot! TO QUINTIUS. Quintius! an thou wish that Catullus should owe thee his eyes Or aught further if aught dearer can be than his eyes, Thou wilt not ravish from him what deems he dearer and nearer E\u2019en than his eyes if aught dearer there be than his eyes. OF LESBIA\u2019s HUSBAND. Lesbia heaps upon me foul words her mate being present; Which to that simple soul causes the fullest delight. Mule! naught sensest thou: did she forget us in silence, Whole she had been; but now what so she rails and she snarls, Not only dwells in her thought, but worse and even more risky, Wrathful she bides. Which means, she is afire and she fumes. ON ARRIUS, A ROMAN \u2019ARRY. Wontis Arrius say Chommodious whenas commodious Means he, and Insidious aspirate Hinsidious, What time flattering self he speaks with marvellous purity, Clamouring Hinsidious loudly as ever he can. Deem I thus did his dame and thus-wise Liber his uncle Speak, and on spindle-side grandsire and grandmother too. Restful reposed all ears when he was sent into Syria, Hearing the self-same words softly and smoothly pronounc\u00e8d, Nor any feared to hear such harshness uttered thereafter, Whenas a sudden came message of horrible news, Namely th\u2019 lonian waves when Arrius thither had wended, Were lonian no more\u2014they had Hionian become. HOW THE POET LOVES Hate I, and love I. Haps thou\u2019lt ask me wherefore I do so. Wot I not, yet so I do feeling a torture of pain. OF QUINTIA. Quintia beautiful seems to the crowd; to me, fair, and tall, Straight; and merits as these readily thus I confess, But that she is beauteous all I deny, for nothing of lovesome, Never a grain of salt, shows in her person so large. Lesbia beautiful seems, and when all over she\u2019s fairest, Any Venus-gift stole she from every one. TO LESBIA. Never a woman could call herself so fondly beloved Truly as Lesbia mine has been beloved of myself. Never were Truth and Faith so firm in any one compact As on the part of me kept I my love to thyself. See poem 75 for the remainder of the lines presented here in the print edition. TO GELLIUS. What may he (Gellius!) do that ever for mother and sister Itches and wakes thro\u2019 the nights, working wi\u2019 tunic bedoffed? What may he do who nills his uncle ever be husband? Wottest thou how much he ventures of sacrilege-sin? Ventures he (O Gellius!) what ne\u2019er can ultimate Tethys Wash from his soul, nor yet Ocean, watery sire. For that of sin there\u2019s naught wherewith this sin can exceed he his head on himself. ON GELLIUS. Gellius is lean: Why not?For him so easy a mother Lives, and a sister so boon, bonny and buxom to boot, Uncle so kindly good and all things full of his lady- Cousins, how can he cease leanest of lankies to be? Albeit, touch he naught save that whose touch is a scandal, Soon shall thou find wherefor he be as lean as thou like. ON GELLIUS. Born be a Magus, got by Gellius out of his mother (Marriagenefand!) who shall Persian augury learn. Needs it a Magus begot of son upon mother who bare him, If that impious faith, Persian religion be fact, So may their issue adore busy gods with recognised verses Melting in altar-flame fatness contained by the caul. TO GELLIUS. Not for due cause I hoped to find thee (Gellius!) faithful In this saddest our love, love that is lost and forlore, Or fro\u2019 my wotting thee well or ever believing thee constant, Or that thy mind could reject villany ever so vile, But that because was she to thyself nor mother nor sister, This same damsel whose Love me in its greatness devoured. Yet though I had been joined wi\u2019 thee by amplest of usance, Still could I never believe this was sufficient of cause. Thou diddest deem it suffice: so great is thy pleasure in every Crime wherein may be found somewhat enormous of guilt. ON LESBIA. Lesbia naggeth at me evermore and ne\u2019er is she silent Touching myself: May I die but that by Lesbia I\u2019m loved. What be the proof?I rail and retort like her and revile her Carefully, yet may I die but that I love her with love. ON JULIUS CAESAR. Study I not o\u2019ermuch to please thee (Caesar!) and court thee, Nor do I care e\u2019en to know an thou be white or be black. AGAINST MENTULA (MAMURRA). Mentula wooeth much: much wooeth he, be assur\u00e8d. That is, e\u2019en as they say, the Pot gathers leeks for the pot. ON THE ZMYRNA OF THE POET CINNA. Zmyrna begun erstwhile nine harvests past by my Cinna Publisht appears when now nine of his winters be gone; Thousands fifty of lines meanwhile Hortensius in single Zmyrna shall travel afar as the hollow breakers of Satrax, Zmyrna by ages grey lastingly shall be perused. But upon Padus\u2019 brink shall die Volusius his annals And to the mackerel oft loose-fitting jacket afford. Dear to my heart are aye the lightest works of my comrade, Leave I the mob to enjoy tumidest Antimachus. TO CALVUS ANENT DEAD QUINTILIA. If to the dumb deaf tomb can aught or grateful or pleasing (Calvus!) ever accrue rising from out of our dule, Wherewith yearning desire renews our loves in the bygone, And for long friendships lost many a tear must be shed; Cert\u00e8s, never so much for doom of premature death-day Must thy Quintilia mourn as she is joyed by thy love. ON AEMILIUS THE FOUL. Never (so love me the Gods!) deemed I \u2019twas preference matter Or Aemilius\u2019 mouth choose I to smell or his Nothing is this more clean, uncleaner nothing that other, Yet I ajudge cleaner and nicer to be; For while this one lacks teeth, that one has cubit-long tushes, Set in their battered gums favouring a muddy old box, Not to say aught of gape like wide-cleft gap of a she-mule Whenas in summer-heat wont peradventure to stale. Yet has he many a motte and holds himself to be handsome\u2014 Why wi\u2019 the baker\u2019s ass is he not bound to the mill? Him if a damsel kiss we fain must think she be ready With her fair lips TO VICTIUS THE STINKARD. Rightly of thee may be said, an of any, (thou stinkingest Victius!) Whatso wont we to say touching the praters and prigs. Thou wi\u2019 that tongue o\u2019 thine own, if granted occasion availest Brogues of the cowherds to kiss, also their Wouldst thou undo us all with a thorough undoing (O Victius!) Open thy gape:\u2014thereby all shall be wholly undone. TO JUVENTIUS. E\u2019en as thou played\u2019st, from thee snatched I (O honied Juventius!) Kissletof savour so sweet sweetest Ambrosia unknows. Yet was the theft nowise scot-free, for more than an hour I Clearly remember me fixt hanging from crest of the Cross, Whatwhile I purged my sin unto thee nor with any weeping Tittle of cruel despite such as be thine could I \u2019bate. For that no sooner done thou washed thy liplets with many Drops which thy fingers did wipe, using their every joint, Lest of our mouths conjoined remain there aught by the contact Like unto slaver foul shed by the butter\u00e8d bun. Further, wretchedmost me betrayed to unfriendliest Love-god Never thou ceased\u2019st to pain hurting with every harm, So that my taste be turned and kisses ambrosial erstwhile Even than hellebore-juice bitterest bitterer grow. Seeing such pangs as these prepared for unfortunate lover, After this never again kiss will I venture to snatch. ON CAELIUS AND QUINTIUS. Caelius Aufil\u00e9nus and Quintius Aufil\u00e9na, Love to the death, both swains bloom of the youth Veronese, This woo\u2019d brother and that sue\u2019d sister: so might the matter Claim to be titled wi\u2019 sooth fairest fraternalest tie. Whom shall I favour the first?Thee (Caelius!) for thou hast prov\u00e8d Singular friendship to us shown by the deeds it has done, Whenas the flames insane had madded me, firing my marrow: Caelius! happy be thou; ever be lusty in love. ON THE BURIAL OF HIS BROTHER. Faring thro\u2019 many a folk and plowing many a sea-plain These sad funeral-rites (Brother!) to deal thee I come, So wi\u2019 the latest boons to the dead bestowed I may gift thee, And I may vainly address ashes that answer have none, Sithence of thee, very thee, to deprive me Fortune behested, Woe for thee, Brother forlore!Cruelly severed fro\u2019 me. Yet in the meanwhile now what olden usage of forbears Brings as the boons that befit mournfullest funeral rites, Thinebe these gifts which flow with tear-flood shed by thy brother, And,for ever and aye (Brother!) all hail and farewell. TO CORNELIUS. If by confiding friend aught e\u2019er be trusted in silence, Unto a man whose mind known is for worthiest trust, Me shalt thou find no less than such to secrecy oath-bound, (Cornelius!) and now hold me an Harpocrates. TO SILO. Or, d\u2019ye hear, refund those ten sestertia (Silo!) Then be thou e\u2019en at thy will surly and savage o\u2019 mood: Or, an thou love o\u2019er-well those moneys, prithee no longer Prove thee a pimp and withal surly and savage o\u2019 mood. CONCERNING LESBIA. Canst thou credit that I could avail to revile my life-love, She who be dearer to me even than either my eyes? Ne\u2019er could I, nor an I could, should I so losingly love her: But with Tappo thou dost design every monstrous deed. ON MAMURRA. Mentula fain would ascend Pipl\u00e9an mountain up-mounting: Pitch him the Muses down headlong wi\u2019 forklets a-hurled. THE AUCTIONEER AND THE FAIR BOY. When with a pretty-faced boy we see one playing the Crier, What can we wot except longs he for selling the same? TO LESBIA RECONCILED. An to one ever accrue any boon he lusted and longed for Any time after despair, grateful it comes to his soul. Thus \u2019tis grateful to us nor gold was ever so goodly, When thou restorest thyself (Lesbia!) to loving-most me, Self thou restorest unhoped, and after despair thou returnest. Oh the fair light of a Day noted with notabler white! Where lives a happier man than myself or\u2014this being won me\u2014 Who shall e\u2019er boast that his life brought him more coveted lot? ON COMINIUS. If by the verdict o\u2019 folk thy hoary old age(O Cominius!) Filthy with fulsomest lust ever be doomed to the death, Make I no manner of doubt but first thy tongue to the worthy Ever a foe, cut out, ravening Vulture shall feed; Gulp shall the Crow\u2019s black gorge those eye-balls dug from their sockets, Guts of thee go to the dogs, all that remains to the wolves. TO LESBIA ON HER VOW OF CONSTANCY. Gladsome to me, O my life, this love whose offer thou deignest Between us twain lively and lusty to last soothfast. (Great Gods!) grant ye the boon that prove her promises loyal, Saying her say in truth spoken with spirit sincere; So be it lawful for us to protract through length of our life-tide Mutual pact of our love, pledges of holy good will! TO AUFILENA. Aufil\u00e9na! for aye good lasses are lauded as loyal: Price of themselves they accept when they intend to perform. All thou promised\u2019st me in belying proves thee unfriendly, For never giving and oft taking is deed illy done. Either as honest to grant, or modest as never to promise, Aufil\u00e9na! were fair, but at the gifties to clutch Fraudfully, viler seems than greed of greediest harlot Who with her every limb maketh a whore of herself. TO THE SAME. Aufil\u00e9na! to live content with only one husband, Praise is and truest of praise ever bestowed upon wife. Yet were it liefer to lie any wise with any for lover, Than to be breeder of boys uncle as cousins begat. ON NASO. Great th\u2019art (Naso!) as man, nor like thee many in greatness Lower themselves (Naso!): great be thou, pathic to boot. TO CINNA. Pompey first being chosen Consul, twofold (O Cinna!) Men for amours were famed:also when chosen again Two they remained; but now is each one grown to a thousand Gallants:\u2014fecundate aye springeth adultery\u2019s seed. ON MAMURRA\u2019S SQUANDERING. For yon Firmian domain not falsely Mentula hight is Richard, owning for self so manyexcellent things\u2014 Fish, fur, feather, all kinds, with prairie, corn-land, and ferals. All no good: for th\u2019 outgoing, income immensely exceeds. Therefore his grounds be rich own I, while he\u2019s but a pauper. Laud we thy land while thou lackest joyance thereof. OF THE SAME. Mentula! masterest thou some thirty acres of grassland Full told, forty of field soil; others are sized as the sea. Why may he not surpass in his riches any a Cr\u0153sus Who in his one domain owns such abundance of good, Grasslands, arable fields, vast woods and forest and marish Yonder to Boreal-bounds trenching on Ocean tide? Great are indeed all these, but thou by far be the greatest, Never a man, but a great Mentula of menacing might. TO GELLIUS THE CRITIC. Seeking often in mind with spirit eager of study How I could send thee songs chaunted of Battiad\u00e9s, So thou be softened to us, nor any attempting thou venture Shot of thy hostile shaft piercing me high as its head,\u2014 Now do I ken this toil with vainest purpose was taken, (Gellius!) nor herein aughthave our prayers avail\u00e8d. Therefore we\u2019ll parry with cloak what shafts thou shootest against us; And by our bolts transfixt, penalty due thou shalt pay.","title":"C. Valerius Catullus, Carmina (tr. Sir Richard Francis Burton)","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":20328}