Complete Works of Catullus

by Catullus

  qui stellarum ortus comperit atque obitus,

  flammeus ut rapidi solis nitor obscuretur,

  ut cedant certis sidera temporibus,

  ut Triviam furtim sub Latmia saxa relegans

  dulcis amor gyro devocet aereo:

  idem me ille Conon caelesti in limine vidit

  e Beroniceo vertice caesariem

  fulgentem clare, quam multis illa dearum

  levia protendens brachia pollicita est,

  qua rex tempestate novo auctus hymenaeo

  vastatum finis iuerat Assyrios,

  dulcia nocturnae portans vestigia rixae,

  quam de virgineis gesserat exuviis.

  estne novis nuptis odio Venus? anne parentum

  frustrantur falsis gaudia lacrimulis,

  ubertim thalami quas intra limina fundunt?

  non, ita me divi, vera gemunt, iuerint.

  id mea me multis docuit regina querellis

  invisente novo proelia torva viro.

  et tu non orbum luxti deserta cubile,

  sed fratris cari flebile discidium?

  quam penitus maestas exedit cura medullas!

  ut tibi tunc toto pectore sollicitae

  sensibus ereptis mens excidit! at ego certe

  cognoram a parva virgine magnanimam.

  anne bonum oblita es facinus, quo regium adepta es

  coniugium, quod non fortior ausit alis?

  sed tum maesta virum mittens quae verba locuta est!

  LXVI

  The Lock of Berenice

  CONON, he who scanned all the lights of the vast sky, who learnt the risings of the stars and their settings, how the flaming blaze of the swift sun suffers eclipse, how the stars recede at set seasons, how sweet love calls Trivia from her airy circuit, banishing her secretly to the rocky cave of Latmus — that same Conon saw me shining brightly among the lights of heaven, me, the lock from the head of Berenice, me whom she vowed to many of the goddesses, stretching forth her smooth arms, at that season when the king, blest in his new marriage, had gone to waste the Assyrian borders.... Is Venus hated by brides? and do they mock the joys of parents with false tears, which they shed plentifully within their virgin bowers? No, so may the gods help me, they lament not truly. This my queen taught me by all her lamentations, when her newly wedded husband went forth to grim war. But your tears, forsooth, were not shed for the desertion of your widowed bed, but for the mournful parting from your dear brother, when sorrow gnawed the inmost marrow of your sad heart. At that time how from your whole breast did your anxious spirit fail, bereft of sense! and yet truly I knew you to be stout-hearted from young girlhood. Have you forgotten the brave deed by which you gained a royal marriage, braver deed than which none other could ever dare? But at that time in your grief, when parting from your husband, what words did you utter!

  Iuppiter, ut tristi lumina saepe manu!

  quis te mutavit tantus deus? an quod amantes

  non longe a caro corpore abesse volunt?

  atque ibi me cunctis pro dulci coniuge divis

  non sine taurino sanguine pollicita es,

  si reditum tetulisset. is haut in tempore longo

  captam Asiam Aegypti finibus addiderat.

  quis ego pro factis caelesti reddita coetu

  pristina vota novo munere dissolvo.

  invita, o regina, tuo de vertice cessi,

  invita: adiuro teque tuumque caput,

  digna ferat quod si quis inaniter adiurarit:

  sed qui se ferro postulet esse parem?

  ille quoque eversus mons est, quem maximum in oris

  progenies Thiae clara supervehitur,

  cum Medi peperere novum mare, cumque iuventus

  per medium classi barbara navit Athon.

  quid facient crines, cum ferro talia cedant?

  Iuppiter, ut Chalybon omne genus pereat,

  et qui principio sub terra quaerere venas

  institit ac ferri stringere duritiem!

  How often, O Jupiter, did you brush away the tears with your hand! What mighty god has changed you thus? is it that lovers cannot bear to be far away from the side of him they love? And there to all the gods for your dear husband’s welfare you vowed me not without blood of bulls, so he should complete his return. He in no long time had added conquered Asia to the territories of Egypt. This is done; and now I am given as due to the host of heaven, and pay your former vows with a new offering. Unwillingly, O queen, I was parted from your head, unwillingly, I swear both by you and by your head; by which if any swear vainly, let him reap a worthy recompense. — But what man can claim to be as strong as steel? Even that mountain was overthrown, the greatest of all in those shores which the bright son of Thia traverses, when the Medes created a new sea, and when the youth of Persia swam in their fleet through mid Athos. What shall locks of hair do, when such things as this yield to steel? O, Jupiter, may all the race of the Chalybes perish, and he, who first began to seek for veins underground, and to forge hard bars of iron!

  abiunctae paulo ante comae mea fata sorores

  lugebant, cum se Memnonis Aethiopis

  unigena impellens nutantibus aera pennis

  obtulit Arsinoes Locridis ales equos,

  isque per aetherias me tollens avolat umbras

  et Veneris casto collocat in gremio.

  ipsa suum Zephyritis eo famulum legarat

  Graiia Canopitis incola litoribus.

  hi dii ven ibi vario ne solum in lumine caeli

  ex Ariadnaeis aurea temporibus

  fixa corona foret, sed nos quoque fulgeremus

  deuotae flavi verticis exuviae,

  vuidulam a fluctu cedentem ad templa deum me

  sidus in antiquis diva novum posuit.

  Virginis et saevi contingens namque Leonis

  lumina, Callisto iuncta Lycaoniae,

  vertor in occasum, tardum dux ante Booten,

  qui vix sero alto mergitur Oceano.

  sed quamquam me nocte premunt vestigia divum,

  lux autem canae Tethyi restituit

  (pace tua fari hic liceat, Ramnusia virgo,

  namque ego non ullo vera timore tegam,

  nec si me infestis discerpent sidera dictis,

  condita quin veri pectoris evoluam),

  non his tam laetor rebus, quam me afore semper,

  afore me a dominae vertice discrucior,

  quicum ego, dum virgo quondam fuit omnibus expers

  unguentis, una milia multa bibi.

  My sister locks, sundered from me just before, were mourning for my fate, when the own brother of Ethiopian Memnon appeared, striking the air with waving wings, the winged courser of Loerian Arsinoe. And he sweeping me away flies through the airs of heaven and places me in the holy bosom of Venus. On that service had the Lady of Zephyrium, the Grecian queen, who sojourns on the shores of Canopus, herself sent her own minister. Then Venus — that among the various lights of heaven, not only should the golden crown taken from the brows of Ariadne be fixed, but that I also might shine, the dedicated spoil of Berenice’s sunny head — me too, wet with tears, and transported to the abodes of the gods, me a new constellation among the ancient stars did the goddess set; for I, touching the fires of the Virgin and the raging Lion, and close by Callisto daughter of Lycaon, move to my setting, while I point the way before slow Bootes, who scarce late at night dips in deep ocean. But though at night the footsteps of the gods press close upon me, whilst by day I am restored to gray Tethys (under thy sufferance let me speak this, O Virgin of Rhamnus; no fear shall make me hide the truth, no, not even though the stars shall rend me with angry words will I refrain from uttering the secrets of a true heart), I do not so much rejoice in this good fortune, as grieve that parted, ever parted must I be from the head of my lady; with whom of old, while she was still a virgin, delighting herself with all kinds of perfumes, I drank many thousands.

  nunc vos, optato quas iunxit lumine taeda,

  non prius unanimis corpora coniugibus

  tradite nudantes reiecta v
este papillas,

  quam iucunda mihi munera libet onyx,

  vester onyx, casto colitis quae iura cubili.

  sed quae se impuro dedit adulterio,

  illius a mala dona levis bibat irrita pulvis:

  namque ego ab indignis praemia nulla peto.

  sed magis, o nuptae, semper concordia vestras,

  semper amor sedes incolat assiduus.

  tu vero, regina, tuens cum sidera divam

  placabis festis luminibus Venerem,

  unguinis expertem non siris esse tuam me,

  sed potius largis affice muneribus.

  sidera corruerint utinam! coma regia fiam,

  proximus Hydrochoi fulgeret Oarion!

  Now, ye maidens, when the torch has united you with welcome light, yield not your bodies to your loving spouses, baring your breasts with vesture opened, before the onyx jar offers pleasant gifts to me, the jar which is yours, who reverence marriage in chaste wedlock. But as for her who gives herself up to foul adultery, ah! let the light dust drink up her worthless gifts unratified: for I ask no offerings from the unworthy. But rather, O ye brides, may concord evermore dwell in your homes, ever abiding Love. And you, my queen, when gazing up to the stars you propitiate Venus with festal lamps, let not me your handmaid want perfumes, but rather enrich me with bounteous gifts. Why do the stars keep me here? I would fain be the queen’s lock once more; and let Orion blaze next to Aquarius.

  LXVII. de ianua moechae cuiusdam

  O dulci iucunda virgo, iucunda parenti,

  salve, teque bona Iuppiter auctet ope,

  ianua, quam Balbo dicunt servisse benigne

  olim, cum sedes ipse senex tenuit,

  quamque ferunt rursus gnato servisse maligne,

  postquam es porrecto facta marita sene.

  dic agedum nobis, quare mutata feraris

  in dominum veterem deseruisse fidem.

  LXVII

  Catullus

  HAIL, house-door, once dear to a well-beloved husband and dear to his father; hail, and may Jupiter bless you with kindly help; you door, who once, they say, did kindly service to Balbus, when the old man himself held the house, and who since then, as they tell us, are doing grudging service to his son, now that the old man is dead and laid out, and you are become the door of a wedded house. Come tell us why you are said to be changed, and to have deserted your old faithfulness to your master.

  ‘Non (ita Caecilio placeam, cui tradita nunc sum)

  culpa mea est, quamquam dicitur esse mea,

  nec peccatum a me quisquam pote dicere quicquam:

  verum istius populi ianua qui te facit,

  qui quacumque aliquid reperitur non bene factum

  ad me omnes clamant: ianua, culpa tua est.’

  House-door

  It is not — so may I please Caecilius, whose property I am now become — it is not my fault, though it is said to be mine, nor can any one speak of any wrong done by me. But of course people will have it that the door does it all; all of them, whenever any ill deed is discovered, cry out to me, “House-door, the fault is yours.”

  Non istuc satis est uno te dicere verbo.

  sed facere ut quivis sentiat et videat.

  Catullus

  It is not enough for you to say that with a single word, but so to do that any one may feel it and see it.

  ‘Qui possum? nemo quaerit nec scire laborat?’

  House-door

  How can I? No one asks or cares to know.

  Nos volumus: nobis dicere ne dubita.

  Catullus

  I wish to know — do not scruple to tell me.

  ‘Primum igitur, virgo quod fertur tradita nobis,

  falsum est. non illam vir prior attigerit,

  languidior tenera cui pendens sicula beta.

  numquam se mediam sustulit ad tunicam;

  sed pater illius gnati violasse cubile

  dicitur et miseram conscelerasse domum,

  sive quod impia mens caeco flagrabat amore,

  seu quod iners sterili semine natus erat,

  ut quaerendum unde foret nervosius illud,

  quod posset zonam solvere virgineam.’

  House-door

  First then, that she came to us a virgin is untrue. She gave her maidenhead, not to her husband, but to his father.

  Egregium narras mira pietate parentem.

  qui ipse sui gnati minxerit in gremium.

  Catullus

  What? A father in love with his own daughter-in-law? An affectionate father indeed!

  Atqui non solum hoc dicit se cognitum habere

  Brixia Cycneae supposita speculae,

  flavus quam molli praecurrit flumine Mella,

  Brixia Veronae mater amata meae,

  sed de Postumio et Corneli narrat amore,

  cum quibus illa malum fecit adulterium.

  House-door

  And yet this not only does Brixia say she well knows, Brixia that lies close under the citadel of Chinea, the town through which runs the soft stream of golden Melo, Brixia dear mother of my own Verona; but she tells stories about Postumius, and the amours of Cornelius, with whom she enjoyed unlawful love.

  dixerit hic aliquis: quid? tu istaec, ianua, nosti,

  cui numquam domini limine abesse licet,

  nec populum auscultare, sed hic suffixa tigillo

  tantum operire soles aut aperire domum?

  Catullus

  Here some one will say: “What, house-door, do you know all this, you who never may be away from your master’s threshold, nor hear the people talk, but fixed under this lintel have nothing to do but to shut or open the house?

  saepe illam audivi furtiva voce loquentem

  solam cum ancillis haec sua flagitia,

  nomine dicentem quos diximus, utpote quae mi

  speraret nec linguam esse nec auriculam.

  praeterea addebat quendam, quem dicere nolo

  nomine, ne tollat rubra supercilia.

  longus homo est, magnas cui lites intulit olim

  falsum mendaci ventre puerperium.’

  House-door

  I have often heard her telling these crimes of hers with hushed voice alone with her maids, speaking of those by name of whom I spoke; she thought, no doubt, that I had neither tongue nor ear. She added besides one whom I do not choose to mention by name, lest he should arch his red brows. He is a tall man, and was once troubled with a great lawsuit, from a falsely imputed child-birth.

  LXVIII. ad Mallium

  Quod mihi fortuna casuque oppressus acerbo

  conscriptum hoc lacrimis mittis epistolium,

  naufragum ut eiectum spumantibus aequoris undis

  sublevem et a mortis limine restituam,

  quem neque sancta Venus molli requiescere somno

  desertum in lecto caelibe perpetitur,

  nec veterum dulci scriptorum carmine Musae

  oblectant, cum mens anxia pervigilat:

  id gratum est mihi, me quoniam tibi dicis amicum,

  muneraque et Musarum hinc petis et Veneris.

  LXVIII. To Manlius

  THAT you, weighed down as you are by fortune and bitter chance, should send me this letter written with tears, to bid me succour a shipwrecked man cast up by the foaming waters of the sea, and restore him from the threshold of death, whom neither does holy Venus suffer to rest, deserted in his widowed bed, nor do the Muses charm him with the sweet poetry of ancient writers, when his mind keeps anxious vigil; — this is grateful to me, since you call me your friend, and come to me for the gifts both of the Muses and of Love.

  sed tibi ne mea sint ignota incommoda, Mani,

  neu me odisse putes hospitis officium,

  accipe, quis merser fortunae fluctibus ipse,

  ne amplius a misero dona beata petas.

  tempore quo primum vestis mihi tradita pura est,

  iucundum cum aetas florida ver ageret,

  multa satis lusi: non est dea nescia nostri,

  quae dulcem curis miscet amaritiem.

  B
ut, dear Manlius, that my troubles may not be unknown to you, and that you may not think I am tired of the duty of a friend, let me tell you what are the waves of fortune in which I too am whelmed; so will you not again require gifts of happiness from one who is unblest. At the time when first a white dress was given to me, when my youth in its flower was keeping jocund spring-time, I wrote merry poems enough; not unknown am I to the goddess who mingles with her cares a sweet bitterness.

  sed totum hoc studium luctu fraterna mihi mors

  abstulit. o misero frater adempte mihi,

  tu mea tu moriens fregisti commoda, frater,

  tecum una tota est nostra sepulta domus,

  omnia tecum una perierunt gaudia nostra,

  quae tuus in vita dulcis alebat amor.

  cuius ego interitu tota de mente fugavi

  haec studia atque omnes delicias animi.

  But all care for this is gone from me by my brother’s death. Ah me unhappy, who have lost you, my brother! You, brother, you by your death have destroyed my happiness; with you all my house is buried. With you all my joys have died, which your sweet love cherished, while yet you lived. By reason of your death, I have banished from all my mind these thoughts and all the pleasures of my heart.

  quare, quod scribis Veronae turpe Catullo

  esse, quod hic quisquis de meliore nota

  frigida deserto tepefactet membra cubili,

  id, Mani, non est turpe, magis miserum est.

  ignosces igitur si, quae mihi luctus ademit,

  haec tibi non tribuo munera, cum nequeo.

  And so, when you write, “It is no credit to you, Catullus, to be at Verona; because here, where I am, all the young men of better condition warm their cold limbs in the bed deserted by you”; that, Manlius, is rather a misfortune than a discredit. You will forgive me then, if I do not render to you those services which grief has taken from me at a time when I cannot do it.

  nam, quod scriptorum non magna est copia apud me,

  hoc fit, quod Romae vivimus: illa domus,

  illa mihi sedes, illic mea carpitur aetas;

  huc una ex multis capsula me sequitur.

  quod cum ita sit, nolim statuas nos mente maligna

  id facere aut animo non satis ingenuo,

  quod tibi non utriusque petenti copia posta est:

  ultro ego deferrem, copia siqua foret.

  For as for my not having plenty of authors at hand, that is because I live at Rome: that is my home, that is my abode, there my life is spent; when I come here only one small box out of many attends me. And since this is so, I would not have you judge that it is due to niggardly mind or ungenerous temper, that you have not received a full supply of what you ask of each kind: I would have offered it unasked, if I had any such resources.