Carmina

Catullus

Catullus, Gaius Valerius. The Carmina of Caius Valerius Catullus. Burton, Sir Richard Francis, translator. London, Printed for the Translators, 1894.

  1. Now to that tender bard, my Comrade fair,
  2. (Cecilius) say I, " Paper go, declare,
  3. Verona must we make and bid to New
  4. Comum's town-walls and Larian Shores adieu;"
  5. For I determined certain fancies he
  6. Accept from mutual friend to him and me.
  7. Wherefore he will, if wise, devour the way,
  8. Though the blonde damsel thousand times essay
  9. Recall his going and with arms a-neck
  10. A-winding would e'er seek his course to check;
  11. A girl who (if the truth be truly told)
  12. Dies of a hopeless passion uncontroul'd;
  13. For since the doings of the Díndymus-dame,
  14. By himself storied, she hath read, a flame
  15. Wasting her inmost marrow-core hath burned.
  16. I pardon thee, than Sapphic Muse more learn'd,
  17. Damsel : for truly sung in sweetest lays
  18. Was by Cecilius Magna Mater's praise.
  1. Volusius' Annals, paper scum-bewrayed!
  2. Fulfil that promise erst my damsel made;
  3. Who vowed to Holy Venus and her son,
  4. Cupid, should I return to her anon
  5. And cease to brandish iamb-lines accurst,
  6. The writ selected erst of bards the worst
  7. She to the limping Godhead would devote
  8. With slowly-burning wood of illest note.
  9. This was the vilest which my girl could find
  10. With vow facetious to the Gods assigned.
  11. Now, 0 Creation of the azure sea,
  12. Holy Idalium, Urian havenry
  13. Haunting, Ancona, Cnidos' reedy site,
  14. Amathus, Golgos, and the tavern hight
  15. Durrachium-thine Adrian abode—
  16. The vow accepting, recognize the vowed
  17. As not unworthy and unhandsome naught.
  18. But do ye meanwhile to the fire be brought,
  19. That teem with boorish jest of sorry blade,
  20. Volusius' Annals, paper scum-bewrayed.
  1. Salacious Tavern and ye taverner-host,
  2. From Pileate Brothers the ninth pile-post,
  3. D'ye claim, you only of the, mentule boast,
  4. D'ye claim alone what damsels be the best
  5. To swive: as he-goats holding all the rest?
  6. Is't when like boobies sit ye incontinent here,
  7. One or two hundred, deem ye that I fear
  8. Two hundred . . . . at one brunt?
  9. Ay, think so, natheless all your tavern-front
  10. With many a scorpion I will over-write.
  11. For that my damsel, fro' my breast took flight,
  12. By me so lovèd, as shall loved be none,
  13. Wherefor so mighty wars were waged and won,
  14. Does sit in public here. Ye fain, rich wights,
  15. All woo her: thither too (the chief of slights !)
  16. All pitiful knaves and by-street wenchers fare,
  17. And thou, (than any worse), with hanging hair,
  18. In coney-breeding Celtiberia bred,
  19. Egnatius! bonnified by beard full-fed,
  20. And teeth with Spanish urine polishèd.
  1. Cornificius! 'Tis ill with thy Catullus,
  2. 'Tis ill (by Hercules) distressfully:
  3. Iller and iller every day and hour.
  4. Whose soul (as smallest boon and easiest)
  5. With what of comfort hast thou deign'd console?