Carmina

Catullus

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

  1. That teem with boorish jest of sorry blade,
  2. 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?
  6. Wi' thee I'm angered! Dost so prize my love?
  7. Yet some consoling utterance had been well
  8. Though sadder 'twere than Simonídean tears.
  1. Egnatius for that owns he teeth snow-white,
  2. Grins ever, everywhere. When placed a wight
  3. In dock, when pleader would draw tears, the while
  4. He grins. When pious son at funeral pile
  6. Mourns, or lone mother sobs for sole lost son,
  7. He grins. Whate'er, whene'er, howe'er is done,
  8. Of deed he grins. Such be his malady,
  9. Nor kind, nor courteous-so beseemeth me—
  10. Then take thou good Egnatius, rede of mine!
  11. Wert Thou Corrupt Sabine Or A Tiburtine,
  12. Stuffed Umbrian or Tuscan overgrown
  13. Swarthy Lanuvian with his teeth-rows shown,
  14. Transpadan also, that mine own I touch,
  15. Or any washing teeth to shine o'er much,
  16. Yet thy incessant grin I would not see,
  17. For naught than laughter silly sillier be.
  18. Thou Celtiber art, in Celtiberia born,
  19. Where man who's urined therewith loves a-morn
  20. His teeth and ruddy gums to scour and score;
  21. So the more polisht are your teeth, the more
  22. Argue they sipping stale in ampler store.
  1. What thought of folly Rávidus (poor churl!)
  2. Upon my iambs thus would headlong hurl?
  3. What good or cunning counsellor would fain