With greater madness than before; How's this you ask? The wrongs I bore
Make me esteem thee, ah! far less,
But love thee with a fiercer stress.
CARMEN LXXIII.-ON AN INGRATE.
Cease to dream that thou wilt earn Meed of thanks, 'tis all in vain,
Kindness meets with no return,
Brings to none an aftergain.
Gratitude hath past away,
No one is by goodness won,
But with evil men repay,
And with scorn deeds kindly done.
This alas! full well I know,
Once I had a friend, but he,
He is now my fiercest foe,
He who had no friends but me.
CARMEN LXXIV.-ON GELLIUS.
Gellius was often told
That his uncle used to scold,
If a man of pleasure talked,
Or in paths of pleasure walked. So to shun unseemly strife
He seduced his uncle's wife, Making him with perfect ease Silent as Harpocrates :
For his uncle his own shame Scarce is willing to proclaim.
No woman e'er can boast that she Loved with a truer love hath been, Than thou, my Lesbia, wast by me, Nor yet 'mongst men was ever seen
A mutual compact where one bounden heart Showed faith more firm than love hath on my part.
But through thy fault, my Lesbia, thou
Hast led astray my captive mind
Lost in devotion, so that now
Wert thou the best of womankind,
Esteem for thee could ne'er my bosom move,
Wert thou the worst, I ne'er could cease to love.
CARMEN LXXVI.—TO HIMSELF.
If ever men can pleasure find When comes the past before the mind, In thinking o'er good actions wrought, Faith plighted kept, no evil sought, No base deceit by word or act To set aside a solemn pact, With impious oaths by gods above, O then from thy unhappy love, Catullus, as the long years wane, Rich store of bliss shall aye remain, For thou did'st all that lover could Or do or say in kindly mood.
But all was lost, a thankless mind Received the gifts and then forgot. Why wilt thou still fresh anguish find Remembering her who loves thee not? Make thy soul strong, from love forbear, And from thy heart her image tear, And cease, though gods give no relief To languish in thy present grief.
A love that has through long years grown Cannot at once aside be thrown ; 'Tis a hard task, but it must be, This hope alone remains for thee,
It must and shall be, come what may, This passion shall be flung away.
O gods, if ye men's prayers can hear, And if ye can with pity bend,
And if when death's last pain was near Ye e'er on earth did succour send, Behold me plunged in depths of woe, And if a lifetime I can show
All purely spent, this plague from me Remove, and set my bosom free; For now within my heart all joy
This spreading madness doth destroy, Creeping like torpor through the frame; Her love I do no longer claim, Nor do I ask what could not be, That she should live in chastity;
I long for freedom, and to ease My heart from this most dire disease. For this alone, ye gods, I pray :
Do ye my goodness thus repay.
Thee, Rufus, once I deemed a friend,
My thoughts were vain, aye worse than vain,
Thou did'st disgrace upon me send And mighty loss and grievous pain, Creeping into my inmost thought, Thou didst my very soul destroy. All, all is gone, my life is nought, For thou hast ta'en away my joy ; Thou poison dire that didst invade My life and taint our friendship's tie! I grieve to think that that pure maid In thy impure embrace should lie. But thou shalt not unpunished go, For every age shall know thy crime, My verse thy villany shall show Through all the lapse of hoary time.
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