Complete Works of Catullus

by Catullus

Altar of heroes Troy, Troy of heroical acts, (90)

  Now to my own dear brother abhorred worker of ancient

  Death. Ah woeful soul, brother, unhappily lost,

  Ah fair light unblest, in darkness sadly receding, 95

  All our house lies low, brother, inearthed in you,

  Quench’d untimely with you, joy waits not ever a morrow, (95)

  Joy which alive your love’s bounty fed hour upon hour.

  Now on a distant shore, no kind mortality near him,

  Far all household love, every familiar urn, 100

  Tomb’d in Troy the malign, in Troy the unholy reposing,

  Strangely the land’s last verge holds him, a dungeon of earth. (100)

  Thither in haste all Greece, one armed people assembling,

  Flock’d on an ancient day, left the recesses of home,

  Lest in a safe content, unreach’d, his stolen adultress. 105

  Paris inarm, in soft luxury quietly lain.

  E’en such chance, fair queen, such misery, Laodamia, (105)

  Brought thee a loss as life precious, as heavenly breath.

  Loss of a bridegroom dear; such whirling passion in eddies

  Suck’d thee adown, so drew sheer to a sudden abyss, 110

  Deep as Graian abyss near Pheneos o’er Cyllene,

  Strainer of ooze impure milk’d from a watery fen; (110)

  Hewn, so stories avouch, in a mountain’s kernel; an hero

  Hew’d it, falsely declar’d Amphytrionian, he,

  When those monster birds near grim Stymphalus his arrow 115

  Smote to the death; such task bade him a dastardly lord.

  So that another God might tread that portal of heaven (115)

  Freely, nor Hebe fair wither a chaste eremite.

  Yet than abyss more deep thy love, thy depth of emotion;

  Love which school’d thy lord, made of a master a thrall. 120

  Not to a grandsire old so priz’d, so lovely the grandson

  One dear daughter alone rears i’ the soft of his years; (120)

  He, long-wish’d for, an heir of wealth ancestral arriving, —

  Scarcely the tablets’ marge holds him, a name to the will,

  Straight all hopes laugh’d down, each baffled kinsman usurping 125

  Leaves to repose white hairs, stretches, a vulture, away;

  Not in her own fond mate so turtle snowy delighteth, (125)

  Tho’ unabash’d, ’tis said, she the voluptuous hours

  Snatches a thousand kisses, in amorous extasy biting.

  Yet, more lightly than all ranges a womanly will. 130

  Great their love, their frenzy; but all their frenzy before thee

  Fail’d, once clasp’d thy lord splendid in aureat hair. (130)

  Worthy in all or part thee, Laodamia, to rival,

  Sought me my own sweet love, journey’d awhile to my arms.

  Round her playing oft ran Cupid thither or hither, 135

  Lustrous, array’d in bright broidery, saffron of hue.

  What, to Catullus alone if a wayward fancy resort not? (135)

  Must I pale for a stray frailty, the shame of an hour?

  Nay; lest all too much such jealous folly provoke her.

  Juno’s self, a supreme glory celestial, oft 140

  Crushes her eager rage, in wedlock-injury flaring,

  Knowing yet right well Jove, what a losel is he. (140)

  Yet, for a man with Gods shall never lawfully match him

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  Lift thy father, a weak burden, unholpen, abhorr’d.

  Not that a father’s hand my love led to me, nor odours

  Wafted her home on rich airs, of Assyria born;

  Stealthy the gifts she gave me, a night unspeakable o’er us, 165 (145)

  Gifts from her husband’s dreams verily stolen, his own.

  Then ’tis enough for me, if mine, mine only remaineth

  That one day, whose stone shines with an happier hue.

  So, it is all I can, take, Allius, answer, a little

  Verse to requite thy much friendship, a contrary boon. 170 (150)

  So your household names no rust nor seamy defacing

  Soil this day, that new morrow, the next to the last.

  Gifts full many to these heaven send as largely requiting,

  Gifts Themis ever wont deal to the pious of yore.

  Joys come plenty to thee, to thy own fair lady together, 175 (155)

  Come to that house of mirth, come to the lady within;

  Joy to the forward friend, our love’s first fashioner, Anser,

  Author of all this fair history, founder of all.

  Lastly beyond them, above them, on her more lovely than even

  Life, my lady, for whose life it is happy to be. 180 (160)

  LXIX.

  Rufus, it is no wonder if yet no woman assenting

  Softly to thine embrace tender a delicate arm.

  Not tho’ a gift should seek, some robe most filmy, to move her;

  Not for a cherish’d gem’s clarity, lucid of hue.

  Deep in a valley, thy arms, such evil story maligns thee, 5

  Rufus, a villain goat houses, a grim denizen.

  All are afraid of it, all; what wonder? a rascally creature,

  Verily! not with such company dally the fair.

  Slay, nor pity the brute, our nostril’s rueful aversion.

  Else admire not if each ravisher angrily fly. 10

  LXX.

  Saith my lady to me, no man shall wed me, but only

  Thou; no other if e’en Jove should approach me to woo;

  Yea; but a woman’s words, when a lover fondly desireth,

  Limn them on ebbing floods, write on a wintery gale.

  LXXII.

  Lesbia, thou didst swear thou knewest only Catullus,

  Cared’st not, if him thine arms chained, a Jove to retain.

  Then not alone I loved thee, as each light lover a mistress,

  Lov’d as a father his own sons, or an heir to the name.

  Now I know thee aright; so, if more hotly desiring, 5

  Yet must count thee a soul cheaper, a frailty to scorn.

  ‘Friend,’ thou say’st, ‘you cannot.’ Alas! such injury leaveth

  Blindly to doat poor love’s folly, malignly to will.

  LXXIII.

  Never again think any to work aught kindly soever,

  Dream that in any abides honour, of injury free.

  Love is a debt in arrear; time’s parted service avails not;

  Rather is only the more sorrow, a heavier ill:

  Chiefly to me, whom none so fierce, so deadly deceiving 5

  Troubleth, as he whose friend only but inly was I.

  LXXIV.

  Gellius heard that his uncle in ire exploded, if any

  Dared, some wanton, a fault practise, a levity speak.

  Not to be slain himself, see Gellius handle his uncle’s

  Lady; no Harpocrates muter, his uncle is hush’d.

  So what he aim’d at, arriv’d at, anon let Gellius e’en this 5

  Uncle abuse; not a word yet will his uncle assay.

  LXXVIII.

  Brothers twain has Gallus, of whom one owns a delightful

  Son; his brother a fair lady, delightfuller yet.

  Gallant sure is Gallus, a pair so dainty uniting;r />
  Lovely the lady, the lad lovely, a company sweet.

  Foolish sure is Gallus, an o’er-incurious husband; 5

  Uncle, a wife once taught luxury, stops not at one.

  LXXIX.

  Lesbius, handsome is he. Why not? if Lesbia loves him

  Far above all your tribe, angry Catullus, or you.

  Only let all your tribe sell off, and follow, Catullus,

  Kiss but his handsome lips children, a plenary three.

  LXXXI.

  What? not in all this city, Juventius, ever a gallant

  Poorly to win love’s fresh favour of amorous you,

  Only the lack-love signor, a wretch from sickly Pisaurum,

  Guest of your hearth, no gilt statue as ashy as he?

  Now your very delight, whose faithless fancy Catullus 5

  Banisheth, Ah light-reck’d lightness, apostasy vile!

  LXXXII.

  Wouldst thou, Quintius, have me a debtor ready to owe thee

  Eyes, or if earth have joy goodlier any than eyes?

  One thing take not from me, to me more goodly than even

  Eyes, or if earth have joy goodlier any than eyes.

  LXXXIII.

  Lesbia while her lord stands near, rails ever upon me.

  This to the fond weak fool seemeth a mighty delight.

  Dolt, you see not at all. Could she forget me, to rail not,

  Nought were amiss; if now scold she, or if she revile,

  ’Tis not alone to remember; a shrewder stimulus arms her, 5

  Anger; her heart doth burn verily, thus to revile.

  LXXXIV.

  Stipends Arrius ever on opportunity shtipends,

  Ambush as hambush still Arrius used to declaim.

  Then, hoped fondly the words were a marvel of articulation,

  While with an h immense ‘hambush’ arose from his heart.

  So his mother of old, so e’en spoke Liber his uncle, 5

  Credibly; so grandsire, grandam alike did agree.

  Syria took him away; all ears had rest for a moment;

  Lightly the lips those words, slightly could utter again.

  None was afraid any more of a sound so clumsy returning;

  Sudden a solemn fright seized us, a message arrives. 10

  ‘News from Ionia country; the sea, since Arrius enter’d,

  Changed; ’twas Ionian once, now ’twas Hionian all.’

  LXXXV.

  Half I hate, half love. How so? one haply requireth.

  Nay, I know not; alas feel it, in agony groan.

  LXXXVI.

  Lovely to many a man is Quintia; shapely, majestic,

  Stately, to me; each point singly ’tis easy to grant.

  ‘Lovely’ the whole, I grant not; in all that bodily largeness,

  Lives not a grain of salt, breathes not a charm anywhere.

  Lesbia — she is lovely, an even temper of utmost 5

  Beauty, that every charm stealeth of every fair.

  LXXXVII & LXXV.

  Ne’er shall woman avouch herself so rightly beloved,

  Friend, as rightly thou art, Lesbia, lovely to me.

  Ne’er was a bond so firm, no troth so faithfully plighted,

  Such as against our love’s venture in honour am I.

  Now so sadly my heart, dear Lesbia, draws me asunder, 5

  So in her own misspent worship uneasily lost,

  Wert thou blameless in all, I may not longer approve thee,

  Do anything thou wilt, cannot an enemy be.

  LXXVI.

  If to a man bring joy past service dearly remember’d,

  When to the soul her thought speaks, to be blameless of ill;

  Faith not rudely profan’d, nor in oath or charter abused

  Heaven, a God’s mis-sworn sanctity, deadly to men.

  Then doth a life-long pleasure await thee surely, Catullus, 5

  Pleasure of all this love’s traitorous injury born.

  Whatso a man may speak, whom charity leads to another,

  Whatso enact, by me spoken or acted is all.

  Waste on a traitorous heart, nor finding kindly requital.

  Therefore cease, nor still bleed agoniz’d any more. 10

  Make thee as iron a soul, thyself draw back from affliction.

  Yea, tho’ a God say nay, be not unhappy for aye.

  What? it is hard long love so lightly to leave in a moment?

  Hard; yet abides this one duty, to do it: obey.

  Here lies safety alone, one victory must not fail thee. 15

  One last stake to be lost haply, perhaps to be won.

  O great Gods immortal, if you can pity or ever

  Lighted above dark death’s shadow, a help to the lost;

  Ah! look, a wretch, on me; if white and blameless in all I

  Liv’d, then take this long canker of anguish away. 20

  If to my inmost veins, like dull death drowsily creeping,

  Every delight, all heart’s pleasure it wholly benumbs.

  Not anymore I pray for a love so faulty returning,

  Not that a wanton abide chastely, she may not again.

  Only for health I ask, a disease so deadly to banish. 25

  Gods vouchsafe it, as I ask, that am harmless of ill.

  LXXVII.

  Rufus, a friend so vainly believ’d, so wrongly relied in,

  (Vainly? alas the reward fail’d not, a heavier ill;)

  Could’st thou thus steal on me, a lurking viper, an aching

  Fire to the bones, nor leave aught to delight any more?

  Nought to delight any more! ah cruel poison of equal 5

  Lives! ah breasts that grew each to the other awhile!

  Yet far most this grieves me, to think thy slaver abhorred

  Foully my own love’s lips soileth, a purity rare.

  Thou shalt surely atone thine injury: centuries harken,

  Know thee afar; grow old, fame, to declare him anew. 10

  LXXXVIII.

  Gellius, how if a man in lust with a mother, a sister

  Rioteth, one uncheck’d night, to iniquity bare?

  How if a man’s dark passion an aunt’s own chastity spare not?

  Canst thou tell what vast infamy lieth on him?

  Infamy lieth on him, no farthest Tethys, or ancient 5

  Ocean, of hundred streams father, abolisheth yet.

  Infamy none o’ersteps, nor ventures any beyond it.

  Not tho’ a scorpion heat melt him, his own paramour.

  LXXXIX.

  Gellius — he’s full meagre. It is no wonder, a friendly

  Mother, a sister is his loveable, healthy withal.

  Then so friendly an uncle, a world of pretty relations.

  Must not a man so blest meagre abide to the last?

  Yea, let his hand touch only what hands touch only to trespass; 5

  Reason enough to become meagre, enough to remain.

  XC.

  Rise from a mother’s shame with Gellius hatefully wedded,

  One to be taught gross rites Persic, a Magian he.

  Weds with a mother a son, so needs should a Magian issue,

  Save in her evil creed Persia determineth ill.

  Then shall a son, so born, chant down high favour of heaven, 5

  Melting lapt in flame fatly the slippery caul.

  XCI.

  Think not a hope so false rose, Gellius, in me to find thee

  Faithful in all this love’s anguish ineffable yet,

  For that in heart I knew thee, had in thee honour imagin’d,

  Held thee a soul to abhor vileness or any reproach.

  Only in her, I knew, thou found’st not a mother, a sister, 5

  Her that awhile for love wearily made me to pine.

  Yea tho’ mutual use did bind us straitly together,

  Scarcely methought could lie cause to desert me therein.

  Thou found’st reason enow; so joys thy spirit in every

  Shame, wherever is aught heino
us, of infamy born. 10

  XCII.

  Lesbia doth but rail, rail ever upon me, nor endeth

  Ever. A life I stake, Lesbia loves me at heart.

  Ask me a sign? Our score runs parallel. I that abuse her

  Ever, a life to the stake, Lesbia, love thee at heart.

  XCIII.

  Lightly methinks I reck if Cæsar smile not upon me:

  Care not, whether a white, whether a swarth-skin, is he.

  XCIV.

  Mentula — wanton is he; his calling sure is a wanton’s.

  Herbs to the pot, ’tis said wisely, the name to the man.

  XCV.

  Nine times winter had end, nine times flush’d summer in harvest,

  Ere to the world gave forth Cinna, the labour of years,

  Zmyrna; but in one month Hortensius hundred on hundred

  Verses, an unripe birth feeble, of hurry begot.

  Zmyrna to far Satrachus, to the stream of Cyprus, ascendeth; 5

  Zmyrna with eyes unborn study the centuries hoar.

  Padus her own ill child shall bury, Volusius’ annals;

  In them a mackerel oft house him, a wrapper of ease.

  Dear to my heart be a friend’s unbulky memorial ever;

  Cherish an Antimachus, weighty as empty, the mob. 10

  XCVI.

  If to the silent dead aught sweet or tender ariseth,

  Calvus, of our dim grief’s common humanity born;

  When to a love long cold some pensive pity recals us,

  When for a friend long lost wakes some unhappy regret;

  Not so deeply, be sure, Quintilia’s early departing 5

  Grieves her, as in thy love dureth a plenary joy.

  XCVIII.

  Asks some booby rebuke, some prolix prattler a judgment?

  Vettius, all were said verily truer of you.

  Tongue so noisome as yours, come chance, might surely on order

  Bend to the mire, or lick dirt from a beggarly shoe.

  Would you on all of us, all, bring, Vettius, utterly ruin? 5

  Speak; not a doubt, ‘twill come utterly, ruin on all.