Complete Works of Catullus

by Catullus

  How her ship on a shore of foaming Dia did harbour;

  How, when her eyes lay bound in slumber’s shadowy prison,

  He forsook, forgot her, a wooer traitorous-hearted:

  Oft, say stories, at heart with frenzied fantasy burning,

  Pour’d she, a deep-wrung breast, clear-ringing cries of oppression; 125

  Sometimes mournfully clomb to the mountain’s rugged ascension,

  Straining thence her vision across wide surges of ocean;

  Now to the brine ran forth, upsplashing freshly to meet her,

  Lifting raiment fine her thighs which softly did open;

  Last, when sorrow had end, these words thus spake she lamenting, 130

  While from a mouth tear-stain’d chill sobs gushed dolorous ever.

  ‘Look, is it here, false heart, that rapt from country, from altar,

  Household altar ashore, I wander, falsely deserted?

  Ah! is it hence, Theseus, that against high heaven a traitor

  Homeward thou thy vileness, alas thy perjury bearest? 135

  Might not a thought, one thought, thy cruel counsel abating

  Sway thee tender? at heart rose no compassion or any

  Mercy, to bend thy soul, or me for pity deliver?

  Yet not this thy promise of old, thy dearly remembered

  Voice, not these the delights thou bad’st thy poor one inherit; 140

  Nay, but wedlock happy, but envied joy hymeneal;

  All now melted in air, with a light wind emptily fleeting.

  Let not a woman trust, since that first treason, a lover’s

  Desperate oath, none hope true lover’s promise is earnest.

  They, while fondly to win their amorous humour essayeth, 145

  Fear no covetous oath, all false free promises heed not;

  They if once lewd pleasure attain unruly possession,

  Lo they fear not promise, of oath or perjury reck not.

  Yet indeed, yet I, when floods of death were around thee,

  Set thee on high, did rather a brother choose to defend not, 150

  Ere I, in hate’s last hour, false heart, fail’d thee to deliver.

  Now, for a goodly reward, to the beasts they give me, the flying

  Fowls; no handful of earth shall bury me, pass’d to the shadows.

  What grim lioness yeaned thee, aneath what rock’s desolation?

  What wild sea did bear, what billows foamy regorged thee? 155

  Seething sand, or Scylla the snare, or lonely Charybdis?

  If for a life’s dear joy comes back such only requital?

  Hadst not a will with spousal an honour’d wife to receive me?

  Awed thee a father stern, cross age’s churlish avising?

  Yet to your household thou, your kindred palaces olden, 160

  Might’st have led me, to wait, joy-filled, a retainer upon thee,

  Now in waters clear thy feet like ivory laving,

  Clothing now thy bed with crimson’s gorgeous apparel.

  Yet to the brutish winds why moan I longer unheeded,

  Crazy with an ill wrong? They senseless, voiceless, inhuman 165

  Utter’d cry they hear not, in answers hollow reply not.

  He rides far already, the mid sea’s boundary cleaving,

  Strays no mortal along these weeds stretched lonely about me.

  Thus to my utmost need chance, spitefuller injury dealing,

  Grudges an ear, where yet might lamentation have entry. 170

  Jove, almighty, supreme, O would that never in early

  Time on Gnossian earth great Cecrops’ navies had harbour’d,

  Ne’er to that unquell’d bull with a ransom of horror atoning,

  Moor’d on Crete his cable a shipman’s wily dishonour.

  Never in youth’s fair shape such ruthless stratagem hiding 175

  He, that vile one, a guest found with us a safe habitation.

  Whither flee then afar? what hope, poor lost one, upholds thee?

  Mountains Idomenean? alas, broad surges of ocean

  Part us, a rough rude space of flowing water, asunder.

  Trust in a father’s help? how trust, whom darkly deserting, 180

  Him I turned to alone, my brother’s bloody defier?

  Nay, but a loyal lover, a hand pledg’d surely, shall ease me.

  Surely; for o’er wide water his oars move flexibly fleeting.

  Also a desert lies this region, a tenantless island,

  Nowhere open way, seas splash in circle around me, 185

  Nowhere flight, no glimmer of hope; all mournfully silent,

  Loneliness all, all points me to death, death only remaining.

  Yet these luminous orbs shall sink not feebly to darkness,

  Yet from grief-worn limbs shall feeling wholly depart not,

  Till to the gods I cry, the betrayed, for justice on evil, 190

  Sue for life’s last mercy the great federation of heaven.

  Then, O sworn to requite man’s evil wrathfully, Powers

  Gracious, on whose grim brows, with viper tresses inorbed,

  Looks red-breathing forth your bosom’s feverous anger;

  Now, yea now come surely, to these loud miseries harken, 195

  All I cry, the afflicted, of inmost marrow arising,

  Desolate, hot with pain, with blinding fury bewilder’d.

  Yet, for of heart they spring, grief’s children truly begotten,

  Verily, Gods, these moans you will not idly to perish.

  But with counsel of evil as he forsook me deceiving, 200

  Death to his house, to his heart, bring also counsel of evil.

  When from an anguish’d heart these words stream’d sorrowful upwards,

  Words which on iron deeds did sue for deadly requital,

  Bow’d with a nod of assent almighty the ruler of heaven.

  With that dreadful motion aneath earth’s hollow, the ruffled 205

  Ocean shook, and stormy the stars ‘gan tremble in ether.

  Thereto his heart thick-sown with blindness cloudily dark’ning,

  Thought not of all those words, Theseus, from memory fallen,

  Words which his heedful soul had kept immovable ever.

  Nor to his eager sire fair token of happy returning 210

  Rais’d, when his eyes safe-sighted Erectheus’ populous haven.

  Once, so stories tell, when Pallas’ city behind him

  Leaving, Theseus’ fleet to the winds given hopefully parted,

  Clasping then his son spake Aegeus, straitly commanding.

  Son, mine only delight, than life more lovely to gaze on, 215

  Son, whom needs it faints me to launch full-tided on hazards,

  Whom my winter of years hath laid so lately before me:

  Since my fate unkindly, thy own fierce valour unheeding,

  Needs must wrest thee away, ere yet these dimly-lit eye-balls

  Feed to the full on thee, thy worshipt body beholding; 220

  Neither in exultation of heart I send thee a-warring;

  Nor to the fight shalt bear fair fortune’s happier earnest;

  Rather, first in cries mine heart shall lighten her anguish,

  When greylocks I sully with earth, with sprinkle of ashes;

  Next to the swaying mast shall a sail hang duskily swinging; 225

  So this grief, mine own, this burning sorrow within me,

  Want not a sign, dark shrouds of Iberia, sombre as iron.

  Then, if haply the queen, lone ranger on haunted Itonus,

  Pleas’d to defend our people, Erectheus’ safe habitations,

  Frown not, allow thine hand that bull all redly to slaughter, 230

  Look that warily then deep-laid in steady remembrance,

  These our words grow greenly, nor age move on to deface them;

  Soon as on home’s fair hills thine eyes shall signal a welcome,

  See that on each straight yard down droop their funeral housings,

 
Whitely the tight-strung cordage a sparkling canvas aloft swing, 235

  Which to behold straightway with joy shall cheer me, with inward

  Joy, when a prosperous hour shall bring to thee happy returning.

  So for a while that charge did Theseus faithfully cherish.

  Last, it melted away, as a cloud which riven in ether

  Breaks to the blast, high peak and spire snow-silvery leaving. 240

  But from a rock’s wall’d eyrie the father wistfully gazing,

  Father whose eyes, care-dimm’d, wore hourly for ever a-weeping,

  Scarcely the wind-puff’d sail from afar ‘gan darken upon him,

  Down the precipitous heights headlong his body he hurried,

  Deeming Theseus surely by hateful destiny taken. 245

  So to a dim death-palace, alert from victory, Theseus

  Came, what bitter sorrow to Minos’ daughter his evil

  Perjury gave, himself with an even sorrow atoning.

  She, as his onward keel still moved, still mournfully follow’d;

  Passion-stricken, her heart a tumultuous image of ocean. 250

  Also upon that couch, flush’d youthfully, breathless Iacchus

  Roam’d with a Satyr-band, with Nisa-begot Sileni;

  Seeking thee, Ariadna, aflame thy beauty to ravish.

  Wildly behind they rushed and wildly before to the folly,

  Euhoe rav’d, Euhoe with fanatic heads gyrated; 255

  Some in womanish hands shook rods cone-wreathed above them,

  Some from a mangled steer toss’d flesh yet gorily streaming;

  Some girt round them in orbs, snakes gordian, intertwining;

  Some with caskets deep did blazon mystical emblems,

  Emblems muffled darkly, nor heard of spirit unholy. 260

  Part with a slender palm taborines beat merrily jangling;

  Now with a cymbal slim would a sharp shrill tinkle awaken;

  Often a trumpeter horn blew murmurous, hoarsely resounding.

  Rose on pipes barbaric a jarring music of horror.

  Such, wrought rarely, the shapes this quilt did richly apparel, 265

  Where to the couch close-clasped it hung thick veils of adorning.

  So to the full heart-sated of all their curious eying,

  Thessaly’s youth gave place to the Gods high-throned in heaven.

  As, when dawn is awake, light Zephyrus even-breathing

  Brushes a sleeping sea, which slant-wise curved in edges 270

  Breaks, while mounts Aurora the sun’s high journey to welcome;

  They, first smitten faintly by his most airy caressing,

  Move slow on, light surges a plashing silvery laughter;

  Soon with a waxing wind they crowd them apace, thick-fleeting,

  Swim in a rose-red glow and far off sparkle in Ocean; 275

  So thro’ column’d porch and chambers sumptuous hieing,

  Thither or hither away, that company stream’d, home-wending.

  First from Pelion height, when they were duly departed,

  Chiron came, in his hand green gifts of flowery forest.

  All that on earth’s leas blooms, what blossoms Thessaly nursing 280

  Breeds on mountainous heights, what near each showery river

  Swells to the warm west-wind, in gales of foison alighting;

  These did his own hands bear in girlonds twined of all hues,

  That to the perfume sweet for joy laugh’d gaily the palace.

  Follow’d straight Penios, awhile his bowery Tempe, 285

  Tempe, shrined around in shadowy woods o’erhanging,

  Left to the bare-limb’d maids Magnesian, airily ranging.

  No scant carrier he; tall root-torn beeches his heavy

  Burden, bays stemm’d stately, in heights exalted ascending.

  Thereto the nodding plane, and that lithe sister of youthful 290

  Phaethon flame-enwrapt, and cypress in air upspringing:

  These in breadths inwoven he heap’d close-twin’d to the palace,

  Whereto the porch wox green, with soft leaves canopied over.

  Him did follow anear, deep heart and wily, Prometheus,

  Scarr’d and wearing yet dim traces of early dishonour, 295

  All which of old his body to flint fast-welded in iron,

  Bore and dearly abied, on slippery crags suspended.

  Last with his awful spouse, with children goodly, the sovran

  Father approach’d; thou, Phoebus, alone, his warder in heaven,

  Left, with that dear sister, on Idrus ranger eternal. 300

  Peleus sister alike and brother in high misprision

  Held, nor lifted a torch when Thetis wedded at even.

  So when on ivory thrones they rested, snowily gleaming,

  Many a feast high-pil’d did load each table about them;

  Whiles to a tremor of age their gray infirmity rocking, 305

  Busy began that chant which speaketh surely the Parcae.

  Round them a folding robe their weak limbs aguish hiding,

  Fell bright-white to the feet, with a purple border of issue.

  Wreaths sat on each hoar crown, whose snows flush’d rosy beneath them;

  Still each hand fulfilled its pious labour eternal. 310

  Singly the left upbore in wool soft-hooded a distaff,

  Whereto the right large threads down drawing deftly, with upturn’d

  Fingers shap’d them anew; then thumbs earth-pointed in even

  Balance twisted a spindle on orb’d wheels smoothly rotating.

  So clear’d softly between and tooth-nipt even it ever 315

  Onward moved; still clung on wan lips, sodden as ashes,

  Shreds all woolly from out that soft smooth surface arisen.

  Lastly before their feet lay fells, white, fleecy, refulgent,

  Warily guarded they in baskets woven of osier.

  They, as on each light tuft their voice smote louder approaching, 320

  Pour’d grave inspiration, a prophet chant to the future,

  Chant which an after-time shall tax of vanity never.

  O in valorous acts thy wondrous glory renewing,

  Rich Aemathia’s arm, great sire of a goodlier issue,

  Hark on a joyous day what prophet-story the sisters 325

  Open surely to thee; and you, what followeth after,

  Guide to a long-drawn thread and run with destiny, spindles.

  Soon shall approach, and bear the delight long-wish’d for of husbands,

  Hesper, a bride shall approach in starlight happy presented,

  Softly to sway thy soul in love’s completion abiding, 330

  Soon in a trance with thee of slumber dreamy to mingle,

  Making smooth round arms thy clasp’d throat sinewy pillow.

  Trail ye a long-drawn thread and run with destiny, spindles.

  Never hath house closed yet o’er loves so blissful uniting,

  Never love so well his children in harmony knitten, 335

  So as Thetis agrees, as Peleus bendeth according.

  Trail ye a long-drawn thread and run with destiny, spindles.

  You shall a son see born that knows not terror, Achilles,

  One whose back no foe, whose front each knoweth in onset;

  Often a conqueror, he, where feet course swiftly together, 340

  Steps of a fire-fleet doe shall leave in his hurry behind him.

  Trail ye a long-drawn thread and run with destiny, spindles.

  Him to resist in war, no champion hero ariseth,

  Then on Phrygian earth when carnage Trojan is utter’d;

  Then when a long sad strife shall Troy’s crown’d city beleaguer, 345

  Waste her a third false heir from Pelops wary descending.

  Trail ye a long-drawn thread and run with destiny, spindles.

  His unmatchable acts, his deeds of glorious honour,

  Oft shall mothers speak o’er sons untimely departed;

  While f
rom crowns earth-bow’d fall loosen’d silvery tresses, 350

  Beat on shrivell’d breasts weak palms their dusky defacing.

  Trail ye a long-drawn thread and run with destiny, spindles.

  As some labourer ears close-cluster’d lustily lopping,

  Under a flaming sun, mows fields ripe-yellow in harvest,

  So, in fury of heart, shall death’s stern reaper, Achilles,

  Charge Troy’s children afield and fell them grimly with iron. 355

  Trail ye a long-drawn thread and run with destiny, spindles.

  Deeds of such high glory Scamander’s river avoucheth,

  Hurried in eddies afar thro’ boisterous Hellespontus;

  Then when a slaughter’d heap his pathway watery choking,

  Brimmeth a warm red tide and blood with water allieth. 360

  Trail ye a long-drawn thread and run with destiny, spindles.

  Voucher of him last riseth a prey untimely devoted

  E’en to the tomb, which mounded in heaps, high, spherical, earthen,

  Grants to the snow-white limbs, to the stricken maiden a welcome.

  Trail ye a long-drawn thread and run with destiny, spindles. 365

  Scarcely the war-worn Greeks shall win such favour of heaven,

  Neptune’s bonds of stone from Dardan city to loosen,

  Dankly that high-heav’d grave shall gory Polyxena crimson.

  She as a lamb falls smitten a twin-edg’d falchion under,

  Boweth on earth weak knees, her limbs down flingeth unheeding. 370

  Trail ye a long-drawn thread and run with destiny, spindles.

  Up then, fair paramours, in fond love happily mingle.

  Now in blessed treaty the bridegroom welcome a goddess;

  Now give a bride long-veil’d to her husband’s passionate yearning.

  Trail ye a long-drawn thread and run with destiny, spindles. 375

  Her when duly the nurse with day-light early revisits,

  Necklace of yester-night — she shall not clasp it about her.

  Trail ye a long-drawn thread and run with destiny, spindles.

  Nor shall a mother fond, o’er brawls unlovely dishearten’d,

  Lay her alone, or cease the delight of children awaiting. 380

  Trail ye a long-drawn thread and run with destiny, spindles.

  In such prelude old, such good-night ditty to Peleus,

  Sang their deep divination, ineffable, holy, the Parcae.

  Such as in ages past, upon houses godly descending,

  Houses of heroes came, in mortal company present, 385

  Gods high-throned in heaven, while yet was worship in honour.

  Often a sovran Jove, in his own bright temple appearing,