by Catullus
Yearly, whene’er his day did rites ceremonial usher,
Gazed on an hundred slain, on strong bulls heavily falling.
Often on high Parnassus a roving Liber in hurried 390
Frenzy the Thyiads drave, their locks blown loosely, before him.
While all Delphi’s city in eager jealousy trooping,
Blithely receiv’d their god on fuming festival altars.
Mavors often amidst encounter mortal of armies,
Streaming Triton’s queen, or maid Ramnusian awful, 395
Stood in body before them, a fainting host to deliver.
Only when heinous sin earth’s wholesome purity blasted,
When from covetous hearts fled justice sadly retreating,
Then did a brother his hands dye deep in blood of a brother,
Lightly the son forgat his parents’ piteous ashes. 400
Lightly the son’s young grave his father pray’d for, an unwed
Maiden, a step-dame fair in freer luxury clasping.
Then did mother unholy to son that knew not abase her,
Shamefully, fear’d not unholy the blessed dead to dishonour.
Human, inhuman alike, in wayward infamy blending, 405
Turned far from us away that righteous counsel of heaven.
Therefore proudly the Gods such sinful company view not,
Bear not day-light clear upon immortality breathing.
LXV.
Though, outworn with sorrow, with hours of torturous anguish,
Ortalus, I no more tarry the Muses among;
Though from a fancy deprest fair blooms of poesy budding
Rise not at all; such grief rocks me, uneasily stirr’d:
Coldly but even now mine own dear brother in ebbing 5
Lethe his ice-wan feet laveth, a shadowy ghost.
He whom Troy’s deep bosom, a shore Rhoetean above him,
Rudely denies these eyes, heavily crushes in earth.
Ah! no more to address thee, or hear thy kindly replying,
Brother! O e’en than life round me delightfuller yet, 10
Ne’er to behold thee again! Still love shall fail not alone in
Fancy to muse death’s dark elegy, closely to weep.
Closely as under boughs of dimmest shadow the pensive
Daulian ever moans Itys in agony slain.
Yet mid such desolation a verse I tender of ancient 15
Battiades, new-drest, Ortalus, wholly for you.
Lest to the roving winds these words all idly deliver’d,
Seem too soon from a frail memory fallen away.
E’en as a furtive gift, sent, some love-apple, a-wooing,
Leaps from breast of a coy maiden, a canopy pure; 20
There forgotten alas, mid vestments silky reposing, —
Soon as a mother’s step starts her, it hurleth adown:
Straight to the ground, dash’d forth ungently, the gift shoots headlong;
She in tell-tale cheeks glows a disorderly shame.
LXVI.
He whose glance scann’d clearly the lights uncounted of ether,
Found when arises a star, sinks in his haven again,
How yon eclipsed sun glares luminous obscuration,
How in seasons due vanishes orb upon orb;
How ‘neath Latmian heights fair Trivia stealthily banish’d 5
Falls, from her upward path lured by a lover awhile;
That same sage, that Conon, a lock of great Berenice
Saw me, in heavenly-bright deification afar
Lustrous, a gleaming glory; to gods full many devoted,
Whiles she her arms in prayer lifted, as ivory smooth; 10
In that glorious hour when, flush’d with a new hymeneal,
Hotly the King to deface outer Assyria sped,
Bearing ensigns sweet of that soft struggle a night brings,
When from a virgin’s arms spoils he had happily won.
Stands it an edict true that brides hate Venus? or ever 15
Falsely the parents’ joy dashes a showery tear,
When to the nuptial door they come in rainy beteeming?
Now to the Gods I swear, tears be hypocrisy then.
So mine own queen taught me in all her weary lamentings,
Whiles her bridegroom bold set to the battle a face. 20
What? for an husband lost thou weptst not gloomily lying?
Rather a brother dear, forced for a while to depart?
This, when love’s sharp grief was gnawing inly to waste thee!
Ah poor wife! whose soul steep’d in unhappiness all,
Fell from reason away, nor abode thy senses! A nobler 25
Spirit had I erewhile known thee, a fiery child.
Pass’d that deed forgotten, a royal wooer had earn’d thee?
Deed that braver none ventureth ever again?
Yet what sorrow to lose thy lord, what murmur of anguish!
Jove, how rain’d those tears brush’d from a passionate eye! 30
Who is this could wean thee, a God so mighty, to falter?
May not a lover live from the beloved afar?
Then for a spouse so goodly, before each spirit of heaven,
Me thou vowd’st, with slain oxen, a vast hecatomb,
Home if again he alighted. Awhile and Asia crouching 35
Humbly to Egypt’s realm added a boundary new;
I, in starry return to the ranks dedicated of heaven,
Debt of an ancient vow sum in a bounty to-day.
Full of sorrow was I, fair queen, thy brows to abandon,
Full of sorrow; in oath answer, adorable head. 40
Evil on him that oath who sweareth falsely soever!
Yet in a strife with steel who can a victory claim?
Steel could a mountain abase, no loftier any thro’ heaven’s
Cupola Thia’s child lifteth his axle above,
Then, when a new-born sea rose Mede-uplifted; in Athos’ 45
Centre his ocean-fleet floated a barbarous host.
What shall a weak tress do, when powers so mighty resist not?
Jove! may Chalybes all perish, a people accurst,
Perish who earth’s hid veins first labour’d dimly to quarry,
Clench’d in a molten mass iron, a ruffian heart! 50
Scarcely the sister-locks were parted dolefully weeping,
Straight that brother of young Memnon, in Africa born,
Came, and shook thro’ heaven his pennons oary, before me,
Winged, a queen’s proud steed, Locrian Arsinoë.
So flew with me aloft thro’ darkening shadow of heaven, 55
There to a god’s pure breast laid me, to Venus’s arms.
Him Zephyritis’ self had sent to the task, her servant,
She from realms of Greece borne to Canopus of yore.
There, that at heav’n’s high porch, not one sole crown, Ariadne’s,
Golden above those brows Ismaros’ youth did adore, 60
Starry should hang, set alone; but luminous I might glisten,
Vow’d to the Gods, bright spoil won from an aureat head;
While to the skies I clomb still ocean-dewy, the Goddess
Placed me amid star-spheres primal, a glory to be.
Close to the Virgin bright, to the Lion sulkily gleaming, 65
Nigh Callisto, a cold child Lycaonian, I
Wheel obliquely to set, and guide yon tardy Bootes
Where scarce late his car dewy descends to the sea.
Yet tho’ nightly the Gods’ immortal steps be above me,
Tho’ to the white waves dawn gives me, to Tethys, again; 70
(Maid of Ramnus, a grace I here implore thee, if any
Word should offend; so much cannot a terror alarm,
I should veil aught true; not tho’ with clamorous uproar
Rend me the stars; I speak verities hidden at heart):
Lightly for all I reck, so more I sorrow to part me 75
Sadl
y from her I serve, part me forever away.
With her, a virgin as yet, I quaff’d no sumptuous essence;
With her, a bride, I drain’d many a prodigal oil.
Now, O you whom gladly the marriage cresset uniteth,
See to the bridegroom fond yield ye not amorous arms, 80
Throw not back your robes, nor bare your bosom assenting,
Save from an onyx stream sweetness, a bounty to me.
Yours, in a loyal bed which seek love’s privilege, only;
Yieldeth her any to bear loathed adultery’s yoke,
Vile her gifts, and lightly the dust shall drink them unheeding. 85
Not of vile I seek gifts, nor of infamous, I.
Rather, O unstain’d brides, may concord tarry for ever
With ye at home, may love with ye for ever abide.
Thou, fair queen, to the stars if looking haply, to Venus
Lights thou kindle on eves festal of high sacrifice, 90
Leave me the lock, thine own, nor blood nor bounty requiring.
Rather a largesse fair pay to me, envy me not.
Stars dash blindly in one! so might I glitter a royal
Tress, let Orion glow next to Aquarius’ urn.
LXVII.
CATULLUS.
O to the goodman fair, O welcome alike to the father,
Hail, and Jove’s kind grace shower his help upon you!
Door, that of old, men say, wrought Balbus ready obeisance,
Once, when his home, time was, lodged him, a master in years;
Door, that again, men say, grudg’d aught but a spiteful obeisance, 5
Soon as a corpse outstretch’d starkly declar’d you a bride.
Come, speak truly to me; what shameful rumour avouches
Duty of years forsworn, honour in injury lost?
DOOR.
So be the tenant new, Caecilius, happy to own me,
I’m not guilty, for all jealousy says it is I. 10
Never a fault was mine, nor man shall whisper it ever;
Only, my friend, your mob’s noisy “The door is a rogue.”
Comes to the light some mischief, a deed uncivil arising,
Loudly to me shout all, “Door, you are wholly to blame.”
CATULLUS.
’Tis not enough so merely to say, so think to decide it. 15
Better, who wills should feel, see it, who wills, to be true.
DOOR.
How then? if here none asks, nor labours any to know it.
CATULLUS.
Nay, I ask it; away scruple; your hearer is I.
DOOR.
First, what rumour avers, they gave her to us a virgin —
They lie on her. A light lady! be sure, not alone 20
Clipp’d her an husband first; weak stalk from a garden, a pointless
Falchion, a heart did ne’er fully to courage awake.
No; to the son’s own bed, ’tis said, that father ascended,
Vilely; with act impure stain’d the facinorous house.
Whether a blind fierce lust in his heart burnt sinfully flaming, 25
Or that inert that son’s vigour, amort to delight,
Needed a sturdier arm, that franker quality somewhere,
Looser of youth’s fast-bound girdle, a virgin as yet.
CATULLUS.
Truly a noble father, a glorious act of affection!
Thus in a son’s kind sheets lewdly to puddle, his own. 30
DOOR.
Yet not alone of this, her crag Chinaean abiding
Under, a watch-tower set warily, Brixia tells,
Brixia, trails whereby his waters Mella the golden,
Mother of her, mine own city, Verona the fair.
Add Postumius yet, Cornelius also, a twice-told 35
Folly, with whom our light mistress adultery knew.
Asks some questioner here “What? a door, yet privy to lewdness?
You, from your owner’s gate never a minute away?
Strange to the talk o’ the town? since here, stout timber above you,
Hung to the beam, you shut mutely or open again.” 40
Many a shameful time I heard her stealthy profession,
While to the maids her guilt softly she hinted alone.
Spoke unabash’d her amours and named them singly, opining
Haply an ear to record fail’d me, a voice to reveal.
There was another; enough; his name I gladly dissemble; 45
Lest his lifted brows blush a disorderly rage.
Sir, ’twas a long lean suitor; a process huge had assail’d him;
’Twas for a pregnant womb falsely declar’d to be true.
LXVIII.
If, when fortune’s wrong with bitter misery whelms thee,
Thou thy sad tear-scrawl’d letter, a mark to the storm,
Send’st, and bid’st me to succour a stranded seaman of Ocean,
Toss’d in foam, from death’s door to return thee again;
Whom nor softly to rest love’s tender sanctity suffers, 5
Lost on a couch of lone slumber, unhappily lain;
Nor with melody sweet of poets hoary the Muses
Cheer, while worn with grief nightly the soul is awake:
Well-contented am I, that thou thy friendship avowest,
Ask’st the delights of love from me, the pleasure of hymns; 10
Yet lest all unnoted a kindred story bely thee,
Deeming, Mallius, I calls of humanity shun;
Hear what a grief is mine, what storm of destiny whelms me.
Cease to demand of a soul’s misery joy’s sacrifice.
Once, what time white robes of manhood first did array me, 15
Whiles in jollity life sported a spring holiday,
Youth ran riot enow; right well she knows me, the Goddess,
She whose honey delights blend with a bitter annoy.
Henceforth dies sweet pleasure, in anguish lost of a brother’s
Funeral. O poor soul, brother, O heavily ta’en, 20
You all happier hours, you, dying brother, effaced;
All our house lies low mournfully buried in you;
Quench’d untimely with you joy waits not ever a morrow,
Joy which alive your love’s bounty fed hour upon hour;
Now, since thou liest dead, heart-banish’d wholly desert me 25
Vanities all, each gay freak of a riotous heart.
How then obey? You write ‘Let not Verona, Catullus,
Stay thee, if here each proud quality, Rome’s eminence,
Freely the light limbs warms thou leavest coldly to languish,’
Infamy lies not there, Mallius, only regret. 30
So forgive me, if I, whom grief so rudely bereaveth,
Deal not a joy myself know not, a beggar in all.
Books — if they’re but scanty, a store full meagre, around me,
Rome is alone my life’s centre, a mansion of home,
Rome my abode, house, hearth; there wanes and waxes a life’s span; 35
Hither of all those choice cases attends me but one.
Therefore deem not thou aught spiteful bids me deny thee;
Say not ‘his heart is false, haply, to jealousy leans,’
If nor books I send nor flatter sorrow to silence.
Trust me, were either mine, either unask’d should appear. 40
Goddesses, hide I may not in how great trial upheld me
Allius, how no faint charities held me to life.
Nor shall time borne fleetly nor years’ oblivion ever
Make such zeal to the night fade, to the darkness, away.
As from me you learn it, of you shall many a thousand 45
Learn it again. Grow old, scroll, to declare it anew.
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So to the dead increase honour in year upon year. 50
Nor to the spider, aloft her silk-slight flims
iness hanging,
Allius aye unswept moulder, a memory dim. (50)
Well you wot, how sore the deceit Amathusia wrought me,
Well what a thing in love’s treachery made me to fall;
Ready to burst in flame, as burn Trinacrian embers, 55
Burn near Thermopylae’s Oeta the fiery springs.
Sad, these piteous eyes did waste all wearily weeping, (55)
Sad, these cheeks did rain ceaseless a showery woe.
Wakeful, as hill-born brook, which, afar off silvery gleaming,
O’er his moss-grown crags leaps with a tumble adown; 60
Brook which awhile headlong o’er steep and valley descending,
Crosses anon wide ways populous, hastes to the street; (60)
Cheerer in heats o’ the sun to the wanderer heavily fuming,
Under a drought, when fields swelter agape to the sky.
Then as tossing shipmen amid black surges of Ocean, 65
See some prosperous air gently to calm them arise,
Safe thro’ Pollux’ aid or Castor, alike entreated; (65)
Mallius e’en such help brought me, a warder of harm.
He in a closed field gave scope of liberal entry;
Gave me an house of love, gave me the lady within, 70
Busily there to renew love’s even duty together;
Thither afoot mine own mistress, a deity bright, (70)
Came, and planted firm her sole most sunny; beneath her
Lightly the polish’d floor creak’d to the sandal again.
So with passion aflame came wistful Laodamia 75
Into her husband’s home, Protesilaus, of yore;
Home o’er-lightly begun, ere slaughter’d victim atoning (75)
Waited of heaven’s high-thron’d company grace to agree.
Nought be to me so dear, O Maid Ramnusian, ever,
I should against that law match me with opposite, I. 80
Bloodless of high sacrifice, how thirsts each desolate altar!
This, when her husband fell, Laodamia did heed, (80)
Rapt from a bridegroom new, from his arms forced early to part her.
Early; for hardly the first winter, another again,
Yet in many a night’s long dream had sated her yearning, 85
So that love might wear cheerly, the master away;
Which not long should abide, so presag’d surely the Parcae, (85)
If to the wars her lord hurry, for Ilion arm.
Now to revenge fair Helen, had Argos’ chiefs, her puissance,
Set them afield; for Troy rous’d them, a cry not of home, 90
Troy, dark death universal, of Asia grave and Europe,