by Catullus
XLVII. ad Porcium et Socrationem
Porci et Socration, duae sinistrae
Pisonis, scabies famesque mundi,
vos Veraniolo meo et Fabullo
verpus praeposuit Priapus ille?
XLVII
PORCIUS and Socration, Piso’s two left hands, you plague and mere famine, has that obscene Priapus preferred you to my dear Veranius and Fabullus?
vos convivia lauta sumptuose
de die facitis, mei sodales
quaerunt in triuio vocationes?
Are you spending money and holding splendid rich banquets at vast expense in broad daylight, whilst my old friends must walk about the streets to hunt for an invitation?
XLVIII. ad Iuventium
Mellitos oculos tuos, Iuventi,
si quis me sinat usque basiare,
usque ad milia basiem trecenta
nec numquam videar satur futurus,
non si densior aridis aristis
sit nostrae seges osculationis.
XLVIII
YOUR honeyed eyes, Juventius, if one should let me go on kissing still, I would kiss them three hundred thousand times, nor would I think I should ever have enough, no, not if the harvest of our kissing were thicker than the ripe ears of corn.
XLIX. ad Marcum Tullium Ciceronem
Disertissime Romuli nepotum,
quot sunt quotque fuere, Marce Tulli,
quotque post aliis erunt in annis,
gratias tibi maximas Catullus
agit pessimus omnium poeta,
tanto pessimus omnium poeta,
quanto tu optimus omnium patronus.
XLIX
MOST skilled in speech of the descendants of Romulus, all who are, and all who have been, and all who shall be hereafter in other years, Marcus Tullius, — to thee his warmest thanks Catullus gives, the worst of all poets; as much the worst poet of all as you are the best advocate of all.
L. ad Lucinium
Hesterno, Licini, die otiosi
multum lusimus in meis tabellis,
ut convenerat esse delicatos:
scribens versiculos uterque nostrum
ludebat numero modo hoc modo illoc,
reddens mutua per iocum atque vinum.
L
YESTERDAY, Licinius, we made holiday and played many a game with my tablets, as we had agreed to take our pleasure. Each of us pleased his fancy in writing verses, now in one metre, now in another, answering each other, while we laughed and drank our wine.
atque illinc abii tuo lepore
incensus, Licini, facetiisque,
ut nec me miserum cibus iuvaret
nec somnus tegeret quiete ocellos,
sed toto indomitus furore lecto
versarer, cupiens videre lucem,
ut tecum loquerer, simulque ut essem.
I came away from this so fired by your wit and fun, Licinius, that food did not ease my pain, nor sleep spread rest over my eyes, but restless and fevered I tossed about all over my bed, longing to see the dawn, that I might talk to you and be with you.
at defessa labore membra postquam
semimortua lectulo iacebant,
hoc, iucunde, tibi poema feci,
ex quo perspiceres meum dolorem.
nunc audax cave sis, precesque nostras,
oramus, cave despuas, ocelle,
ne poenas Nemesis reposcat a te.
est vehemens dea: laedere hanc caveto.
But when my limbs were worn out with fatigue and lay half dead on my couch, I made this poem for you, my sweet friend, that from it you might learn my suffering. Now be not too proud, and do not, I pray you, apple of my eye, do not reject my prayers, lest Nemesis demand penalties from you in turn. She is an imperious goddess — beware of offending her.
LI. ad Lesbiam
Ille mi par esse deo videtur,
ille, si fas est, superare divos,
qui sedens adversus identidem te
spectat et audit
dulce ridentem, misero quod omnis
eripit sensus mihi: nam simul te,
Lesbia, aspexi, nihil est super mi
LI.
HE seems to me to be equal to a god, he, if it may be, seems to surpass the very gods, who sitting opposite you again and again gazes at you and hears you sweetly laughing. Such a thing takes away all my senses, alas! for whenever I see you, Lesbia,
lingua sed torpet, tenuis sub artus
flamma demanat, sonitu suopte
tintinant aures gemina, teguntur
lumina nocte.
otium, Catulle, tibi molestum est:
otio exsultas nimiumque gestis:
otium et reges prius et beatas
perdidit urbes.
at once no sound of voice remains within my mouth, but my tongue falters, a subtle flame steals down through my limbs, my ears tingle with inward humming, my eyes are shrouded in twofold night.
Otium, Catulle, tibi molestumst:
otio exultas nimiumque gestis.
otium et reges prius et beatas
perdidit urbes
Idleness, Catullus, does you harm, you riot in your idleness and wanton too much. Idleness ere now has ruined both kings and wealthy cities.
LII. in Novium
Quid est, Catulle? quid moraris emori?
sella in curuli struma Nonius sedet,
per consulatum peierat Vatinius:
quid est, Catulle? quid moraris emori?
LII
WHAT is it, Catullus? why do you not make haste to die? Nonius Struma sits in a curule chair; Vatinius forswears himself by his consulship. What is it, Catullus? why do you not make haste to die?
LIII. ad Gaium Licinium Calvum
Risi nescio quem modo e corona,
qui, cum mirifice Vatiniana
meus crimina Caluos explicasset
admirans ait haec manusque tollens,
‘di magni, salaputium disertum!’
LIII
A FELLOW in the crowd made me laugh just now: when my dear Calvus had drawn out in splendid style his accusations against Vatinius, he lifted up his hands in wonder, and “Great gods,” says he, “what an eloquent manikin!”
LIV. de Octonis capite
Othonis caput oppido est pusillum,
et eri rustice semilauta crura,
subtile et leve peditum Libonis,
si non omnia, displicere vellem
tibi et Sufficio seni recocto...
irascere iterum meis iambis
inmerentibus, unice imperator.
LIV
OTHO’S head (very small it is) and your half-washed legs, rustic Erins... these points at least, if not all about them, I should wish to be disliked by you and Fuficius, that old fellow renewed to youth again.
LIVb.
* * * *
Irascere iterum meis iambis
immerentibus, unice imperator
LIVB (a fragment)
You will again be angered by my iambics, my innocent iambics, you one and only general.
LV. ad Camerium
Oramus, si forte non molestum est,
demonstres ubi sint tuae tenebrae.
te Campo quaesivimus minore,
te in Circo, te in omnibus libellis,
te in templo summi Iovis sacrato.
in Magni simul ambulatione
femellas omnes, amice, prendi,
quas vultu vidi tamen sereno.
avelte, sic ipse flagitabam,
Camerium mihi pessimae puellae.
LV
I BEG you, if I may without offence, show me where is your dark corner. I have looked for you in the lesser Campus, in the Circus, in all the booksellers’ shops, in the hallowed temple of great Jove. And when I was in Pompey’s portico, I stopped all the women there, my friend, who, however, faced me with untroubled look. You it was that I kept asking them for: “Give me my Camerius, you wicked girls!”
quaedam inquit, nudum reduc...
‘en hic in roseis latet papillis.’
sed te iam ferre Herculi labos est;
tanto te in fastu negas, amice.
dic nobis ubi sis futurus, ede
audacter, committe, crede luci.
nunc te lacteolae tenent puellae?
si linguam clauso tenes in ore,
fructus proicies amoris omnes.
verbosa gaudet Venus loquella.
vel, si vis, licet obseres palatum,
dum vestri sim particeps amoris.
One of them, baring her naked bosom, says, “Look here, he is hiding between my rosy breasts.” Well, to bear with you is now a labour of Hercules. Not though I should be moulded in brass like the fabled warder of Crete, not though I were to soar aloft like flying Pegasus, not if I were Ladas or wing-footed Perseus, not if I were the swift snow-white pair of Rhesus could I overtake you: add to these the feather-footed gods and the winged, and with them call for the swiftness of the winds: — though you should harness all these, Camerius, and press them into my service, yet I should be tired out to my very marrow, and worn away with frequent faintness, my friend, while searching for you. Do you deny yourself so haughtily, my friend? Tell us where you are likely to be, out with it boldly, trust me with it, give it to the light. Do the milk-white maids detain you? If you keep your tongue shut up within your mouth, you will waste all the gains of love; Venus loves an utterance full of words. However, if you will, you may lock up your lips, so long as you let me be a sharer in your love.
LVI. ad Catonem
O rem ridiculam, Cato, et iocosam,
dignamque auribus et tuo cachinno!
ride quidquid amas, Cato, Catullum:
res est ridicula et nimis iocosa.
deprendi modo pupulum puellae
trusantem; hunc ego, si placet Dionae,
protelo rigida mea cecidi.
LVI
O, CATO, what an absurdly funny thing, worthy for you to hear and laugh at! Laugh, as much as you love Catullus, Cato. The thing is too absurd and funny....
LVII. ad Gaium Iulium Caesarem
Pulcre convenit improbis cinaedis,
Mamurrae pathicoque Caesarique.
nec mirum: maculae pares utrisque,
urbana altera et illa Formiana,
impressae resident nec eluentur:
morbosi pariter, gemelli utrique,
uno in lecticulo erudituli ambo,
non hic quam ille magis vorax adulter,
rivales socii puellularum.
pulcre convenit improbis cinaedis.
LVII
WELL agreed are the abominable profligates, Mamurra the effeminate, and Caesar; no wonder either. Like stains, one from the city and one from Formiae, are deeply impressed on each, and will never be washed out. Diseased alike, very twins, both on one sofa, dilettante writers both, one as greedy in adultery as the other, rivals and partners in love. Well agreed are the abominable profligates.
LVIII. ad Marcum Caelium Rufum
Caeli, Lesbia nostra, Lesbia illa.
illa Lesbia, quam Catullus unam
plus quam se atque suos amavit omnes,
nunc in quadriviis et angiportis
glubit magnanimi Remi nepotes.
LVIII
O, CAELIUS, my Lesbia, that Lesbia, Lesbia whom alone Catullus loved more than himself and all his own, now in the cross-roads and alleys serves the filthy lusts of the descendants of lordly-minded Remus.
LVIIIb. ad Camerium
Non custos si fingar ille Cretum,
non Ladas ego pinnipesve Perseus,
non si Pegaseo ferar volatu,
non Rhesi niveae citaeque bigae;
adde huc plumipedas volatilesque,
ventorumque simul require cursum,
quos iunctos, Cameri, mihi dicares:
defessus tamen omnibus medullis
et multis languoribus peresus
essem te mihi, amice, quaeritando.
LVIIIb.
Not if I were molded into the Cretan guard, not if I were born with Pegasean wing, or I Ladas, or Perseus with winged foot, or Rhesus’ swift and snowy team: add to these the feathery-footed and winged ones, ask at the same time the course of the winds: which bound up, Camerius, you name as mine; yet exhausted in my every marrow and with many a faintness consumed, I would be in my quest for you, my friend.
LIX. in Rufum
Bononiensis Rufa Rufulum fellat,
uxor Meneni, saepe quam in sepulcretis
vidistis ipso rapere de rogo cenam,
cum devolutum ex igne prosequens panem
ab semiraso tunderetur ustore.
LIX
RUFA of Bononia... the wife of Menenius, she whom you have often seen in the graveyards grabbing the baked meats from the very pyre, when as she ran after the loaf rolling down out of the fire she was thumped by the half-shaved slave of the undertaker.
LX.
Num te leaena montibus Libystinis
aut Scylla latrans infima inguinum parte
tam mente dura procreavit ac taetra,
ut supplicis vocem in novissimo casu
contemptam haberes, a nimis fero corde?
LX
WAS it a lioness from Libyan mountains or a Scylla barking from her womb below that bare you, you that are so hard-hearted and monstrous as to hold in contempt your suppliant’s voice in his last need, ah, too cruel-hearted one?
LXI. epythalamius Iunie et Mallii
Collis o Heliconii
cultor, Uraniae genus,
qui rapis teneram ad virum
virginem, o Hymenaee Hymen,
o Hymen Hymenaee;
cinge tempora floribus
suave olentis amaraci,
flammeum cape laetus, huc
huc veni, niveo gerens
luteum pede soccum;
excitusque hilari die,
nuptialia concinens
voce carmina tinnula,
pelle humum pedibus, manu
pineam quate taedam.
LXI
O HAUNTER of the Heliconian mount, Urania’s son, thou who bearest away the tender maid to her bridegroom, O Hymenaeus Hymen, O Hymen Hymenaeus!
Bind thy brows with the flowers of fragrant marjoram, put on the marriage veil, hither, hither merrily come, wearing on thy snow-white foot the yellow shoe, — .
and wakening on this joyful day, singing with resonant voice the nuptial songs, beat the ground with thy feet, shake with thy hand the pine torch.
namque Iunia Manlio,
qualis Idalium colens
venit ad Phrygium Venus
iudicem, bona cum bona
nubet alite virgo,
floridis velut enitens
myrtus Asia ramulis
quos Hamadryades deae
ludicrum sibi roscido
nutriunt umore.
quare age, huc aditum ferens,
perge linquere Thespiae
rupis Aonios specus,
nympha quos super irrigat
frigerans Aganippe.
For now shall Vinia wed with Manlius, Vinia as fair as Venus who dwells in Idalium, when she came to the Phrygian judge; a good maiden with a good omen,
like the Asian myrtle shining with flowering sprays, which the Hamadryad goddesses with dewy moisture nourish as a plaything for themselves.
Hither then, come hither, haste to leave the Aonian caves of the Thespian rock, which the nymph Aganippe besprinkles with cooling shower from above;
ac domum dominam voca
coniugis cupidam novi,
mentem amore revinciens,
ut tenax hedera huc et huc
arborem implicat errans.
vosque item simul, integrae
virgines, quibus advenit
par dies, agite in modum
dicite, o Hymenaee Hymen,
o Hymen Hymenaee.
ut libentius, audiens
se citarier ad suum
munus, huc aditum ferat
dux bonae Veneris, boni
coniugator amoris.
call to her h
ome the lady of the house, full of desire for her bridegroom; bind her heart with love, as here and there the clinging ivy straying clasps the tree-
Ye too with me, unwedded virgins, for whom a like day is coming, come, in measure say, “O Hymenaeus Hymen, O Hymen Hymenaeus!”
that hearing himself summoned to his own office, the god may come more readily hither, the herald of genial Venus, the coupler of honest love.
quis deus magis est ama-
tis petendus amantibus?
quem colent homines magis
caelitum, o Hymenaee Hymen,
o Hymen Hymenaee?
te suis tremulus parens
invocat, tibi virgines
zonula solvunt sinus,
te timens cupida novos
captat aure maritus.
tu fero iuveni in manus
floridam ipse puellulam
dedis a gremio suae
matris, o Hymenaee Hymen,
o Hymen Hymenaee.
What god is more worthy to be invoked by lovers who are loved? whom of the heavenly ones shall men worship more than thee? O Hymenaeus Hymen, O Hymen Hymenaeus!
Thee for his children the aged father invokes, for thee the maidens loose their garments from the girdle: for thee the bridegroom listens fearfully with eager car,
Thou thyself givest into the hands of the fiery youth the blooming maiden from her mother’s bosom, O Hymenaeus Hymen, O Hymen Hymenaeus!
nil potest sine te Venus,
fama quod bona comprobet,
commodi capere, at potest
te volente. quis huic deo
compararier ausit?
nulla quit sine te domus
liberos dare, nec parens
stirpe nitier; ac potest
te volente. quis huic deo
compararier ausit?
quae tuis careat sacris,
non queat dare praesides
terra finibus: at queat
te volente. quis huic deo
compararier ausit?
claustra pandite ianuae.
virgo adest. viden ut faces
splendidas quatiunt comas?
No pleasure can Venus take without thee, such as honest fame may approve; but can, if thou art willing. What god dare match himself with this god?
