CARMEN VIII.-TO HIMSELF.

Catullus, cease thy folly, love that's gone
Look on as something lost, a joy undone,

Erst had'st thou happy days and blissful nights,
And erst the sun with added splendour shone ;

When thou the favours of that maid did'st gain,
As thou lov'dst her thou ne'er shall love again,
Thy visiting feet she to her friendly house
Full oft would draw, and thou to go wert fain,
And there those merry joys to taste did'st use
Longed for by thee, and she would nought refuse,
Most brilliant shone those happy days for thee;
But now she is unkind, do thou infuse

Into thy breast a resolution stern,

And cease to follow one who will not turn,
Nor spend thy days in miserable plight,
Nor with an unrequited passion burn.

Be firm, Catullus! now my heart is strong;
Farewell false maid, for thee no more doth long

Thy former lover, nor will he ever ask

Thy favours, who hast done him grievous wrong.

But thou wilt mourn when not a single night
Catullus now thy presence will invite,

Who will approach thee? who will think thee fair? Whom wilt thou kiss? whose amorous lips wilt bite?

Possessed by none, what kind of life for thee
Will still remain, now thou art left by me?

But thou, Catullus, 'gainst her steel thy breast, And in thy firm resolve unshaken be.

CARMEN IX.-TO VERANNIUS.

Verannius, thou whom far above

All other friends I prize and love,
Hast thou turned home thy wandering feet
Thy household gods again to greet,

Thy aged mother's smile to see,

Thy brothers too, who longed for thee?
Thou hast come; how that news my soul
Doth gladden; thee unscathed and whole
I presently shall see again,

And hear thy talk of distant Spain,
Of actions done and peoples seen
In that far land where thou hast been,

As is thy wont, and then thy face

Shall draw to mine in close embrace,

Thy pleasant mouth and eyes shall kiss,

What rapture e'er can equal this,

E'en of the happy who can vie

With me in joy, more blest than I?

CARMEN X.-ON VARUS' MISTRESS.

I was strolling away

From the Forum one day

When Varus just asked me to step round and see

A girl that he had, and it struck me that she

Was good-looking, nice-mannered, and all she should be. So down we all sat,

And had a long chat

About various things; amongst others about
Bithynia, and what kind of life we had led,
And whether I'd managed to squeeze money out
Of the people while there, and so on; and I said
What was really the truth, that neither myself
Nor the prætor, nor followers made any pelf,

And that when we came back, we had no better scent
On our heads than we had at the time when we went.
And our prætor, I said, was a blackguard who ne'er
For the wants of his followers took any care.

"But," said they then,

"At least you got men

As porters on journeys to carry your bed,

For from Asia first, it has always been said,

That the custom came in," "Ah well," answered I,

"The province was bad, that I cannot deny,

But not quite so bad that I could not get there,

Eight strong upright fellows to carry my chair."
This I said, like an ass,

Intending to pass

Myself off in the eyes of the girl as the one,
Who much better than all my companions had done.
But I hadn't a man who could put on his head,
A piece of my old broken-down truckle-bed :
Whereupon, like a regular wanton she said,
"Catullus my friend,

Will you just kindly lend

Me those fellows a moment, I want to attend
At Serapis's temple." "But hold on," I cried,
"I am afraid that you can't very well take a ride
In my litter; in fact I was blundering when

I said they were mine, they are Caius's men,

Cinna Caius, my comrade, he bought them, and I
Use them too, just as if they were mine, and that's why

In talking this moment, I made the mistake,

All the same, his or mine, what odds does it make?

But you're so absurd,

You scan every word,

It's a terrible bore to be taken up when

One makes a mistake, as one must now and then.”

CARMEN XI. TO FURIUS AND AURELIUS.

Aurelius my companion true,

And Furius my comrade, who

Will ever follow me,

Whether I seek far India's land,

Where on the long-resounding strand
Is dashed the Eastern sea.

Or whether I to Sacia go,

Or where the Parthians bend the bow,

Or the Hyrcanian plain,

Or where the soft Arabians dwell,

Or where the Nile with seven-mouthed swell

Colours the turbid main.

Or whether o'er the Alpine ways

I reach the land which Cæsar sways,

Where Cæsar's triumphs shine,

Or go to farthest Britain's shore,

Where waves round barren headlands roar, Or to the Gallic Rhine.

With me such toils, or worse than these,
Whatever heaven's will may please

Ye are prepared to meet.