The Carmina of Catullus E-Book

Caius Valerius Catullus

• Herausgeber: Seltzer Books
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 315

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Sir Richard Burton's racy English translation of Latin poetry. This edition includes the original Latin, plus Burton's verse translation, plus Leonard Smither's prose translation. According to Wikipedia: "Gaius Valerius Catullus (ca. 84 BC – ca. 54 BC) was a Roman poet of the 1st century BC. His surviving works are still read widely, and continue to influence poetry and other forms of art." "Captain Sir Richard Francis Burton KCMG FRGS (19 March 1821 – 20 October 1890) was an English explorer, translator, writer, soldier, orientalist, ethnologist, linguist, poet, hypnotist, fencer and diplomat. He was known for his travels and explorations within Asia and Africa as well as his extraordinary knowledge of languages and cultures. According to one count, he spoke 29 European, Asian, and African languages. Burton's best-known achievements include traveling in disguise to Mecca, making an unexpurgated translation of The Book of One Thousand Nights and A Night (the collection is more commonly called The Arabian Nights in English because of Andrew Lang's abridgement) and the Kama Sutra and journeying with John Hanning Speke as the first Europeans, guided by Omani merchants who traded in the region, to visit the Great Lakes of Africa in search of the source of the Nile. He was a prolific author and wrote numerous books and scholarly articles about subjects including travel, fencing and ethnography. He was a captain in the army of the East India Company serving in India (and later, briefly, in the Crimean War). Following this he was engaged by the Royal Geographical Society to explore the east coast of Africa and led an expedition guided by the locals which discovered Lake Tanganyika. In later life he served as British consul in Fernando Po, Damascus and, finally, Trieste. He was a Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society and was awarded a knighthood (KCMG) in 1886."

Leseprobe

THE CARMINA OF CAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS

published by Samizdat Express, Orange, CT, USA

established in 1974, offering over 14,000 books

Ancient Greek and Roman culture, literature, and philosophy --

Plato, Complete Dialogues, translated by Jowett

The Architecture of Vitruvius

Cookery and Dining in Imperial Rome by Apicius

The Geography of Strabo

Letters of Pliny

A Selection of the Discourses of Epictetus

On the Sublime by Longinus

Treatises on Friendship and Old Age by Cicero

Thoughts of the Emperor Marcus Aurelius

The Golden Ass by Apuleius

The Golden Sayings of Epictetus

Of the Nature of Things by Lucretius

Ovid's Metamorphoses

Plutarch's Morals

Plutarch's Essays

Lives of the Poets by Suetonius

Five comedies by Plautus

Comedies by Terence

The True History by Lucian

Satyricon by Petronius

Roman Women by Brittain

Daphnis and Chloe by Longus

Aristophanes all 11 comedies

Aeschylus 7 plays

Sophocles 7 plays

Euripides 10 plays

The Consolation of Philosophy by Boethius

Virgil's Aeneid translated by William Morris

Homeric Hymns

Hesiod and Homerica

The Carmina of Catullus

Odes of Pindar

Homer's Iliad in prose translated by Andrew Lang

Homer's Iliad in verse translated by Alexander Pope

Homer's Odyssey in prose translated by Samuel Butler

Homer's Odyssey in verse translated by Alexander Pope

Aristotle's Poetic, Ethics, Politics, and Categories

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The Best of the World's Classics: Rome

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Original edition --

Now first completely Englished into Verse and Prose, the Metrical Part by Capt. Sir Richard F. Burton,

and the Prose Portion, Introduction, and Notes Explanatory and Illustrative by Leonard C. Smithers

LONDON: MDCCCXCIIII: PRINTED FOR THE TRANSLATORS:

IN ONE VOLUME: FOR PRIVATE SUBSCRIBERS ONLY

PREFACE

FOREWORD

INTRODUCTION

I.--DEDICATION TO CORNELIUS NEPOS

II.--LESBIA'S SPARROW

III.--ON THE DEATH OF LESBIA'S SPARROW

IIII.--ON HIS PINNACE

V.--TO LESBIA, (OF LESBOS--CLODIA?)

VI.--TO FLAVIUS: MIS-SPEAKING HIS MISTRESS

VII.--TO LESBIA STILL BELOVED

VIII.--TO HIMSELF, RECOUNTING LESBIA'S INCONSTANCY

VIIII.--TO VERANIUS RETURNED FROM TRAVEL

X.--HE MEETS VARUS AND MISTRESS

XI.--A PARTING INSULT TO LESBIA

XII.--TO M. ASINIUS WHO STOLE NAPERY

XIII.--FABULLUS IS INVITED TO A POET'S SUPPER

XIIII.--TO CALVUS, ACKNOWLEDGING HIS POEMS

XV.--TO AURELIUS--HANDS OFF THE BOY!

XVI.--TO AURELIUS AND FURIUS, IN DEFENCE OF HIS MUSE'S HONESTY

XVII.--OF A "PREDESTINED" HUSBAND

XVIII.--TO PRIAPUS, THE GARDEN-GOD

XVIIII.--TO PRIAPUS

XX.--TO PRIAPUS

XXI.--TO AURELIUS THE SKINFLINT

XXII.--TO VARUS, ABUSING SUFFENUS

XXIII.--TO FURIUS, SATIRICALLY PRAISING HIS POVERTY

XXIIII.--TO JUVENTIUS CONCERNING THE CHOICE OF A FRIEND

XXV.--ADDRESS TO THALLUS, THE NAPERY-THIEF

XXVI.--CATULLUS CONCERNING HIS VILLA

XXVII.--TO HIS CUP-BOY

XXVIII.--TO FRIENDS ON RETURN FROM TRAVEL

XXVIIII.--TO CÆSAR, OF MAMURRA--CALLED MENTULA

XXX.--TO ALFENUS THE PERJURER

XXXI.--ON RETURN TO SIRMIO AND HIS VILLA

XXXII.--CRAVING IPSITHILLA'S LAST FAVOURS

XXXIII.--ON THE VIBENII--BATH-THIEVES

XXXIIII.--HYMN TO DIANA

XXXV.--AN INVITATION TO POET CECILIUS

XXXVI.--ON "THE ANNALS"--A SO-CALLED POEM OF VOLUSIUS

XXXVII.--TO THE FREQUENTERS OF A LOW TAVERN

XXXVIII.--A COMPLAINT TO CORNIFICIUS

XXXVIIII.--ON EGNATIUS OF THE WHITE TEETH

XXXX.--THREATENING RAVIDUS WHO STOLE HIS MISTRESS

XXXXI.--ON MAMURRA'S MISTRESS

XXXXII.--ON A STRUMPET WHO STOLE HIS TABLETS

XXXXIII.--TO MAMURRA'S MISTRESS

XXXXIIII.--CATULLUS TO HIS OWN FARM

XXXXV.--ON ACME AND SEPTUMIUS

XXXXVI.--HIS ADIEUX TO BITHYNIA

XXXXVII.--TO PORCIUS AND SOCRATION

XXXXVIII.--TO JUVENTIUS

XXXXVIIII.--TO MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO

L.--TO HIS FRIEND LICINIUS

LI.--TO LESBIA

LII.--CATULLUS TO HIMSELF

LIII.--A JEST CONCERNING CALVUS

LIIII.--TO JULIUS CÆSAR (?)

LV.---OF HIS FRIEND CAMERIUS

LVI.--TO CATO, DESCRIBING A "BLACK JOKER"

LVII.--ON MAMURRA AND JULIUS CÆSAR

LVIII.--ON LESBIA WHO ENDED BADLY

LVIIII.--ON RUFA

LX.--TO A CRUEL CHARMER

LXI.--EPITHALAMIUM ON VINIA AND MANLIUS

LXII.--NUPTIAL SONG BY YOUTHS AND DAMSELS (EPITHALAMIUM)

LXIII.--THE ADVENTURES OF ATYS

LXIIII.--MARRIAGE OF PELEUS AND THETIS (FRAGMENT OF AN EPOS)

LXV.--TO HORTALUS LAMENTING A LOST BROTHER

LXVI.--(LOQUITUR) BERENICE'S LOCK

LXVII.--DIALOGUE CONCERNING CATULLUS AT A HARLOT'S DOOR

LXVIII.--TO MANIUS ON VARIOUS MATTERS

LXVIIII.--TO RUFUS THE FETID

LXX.--ON WOMAN'S INCONSTANCY

LXXI.--TO VERRO

LXXII.--TO LESBIA THE FALSE

LXXIII.--OF AN INGRATE

LXXIIII.--OF GELLIUS

LXXVII.--TO RUFUS, THE TRAITOR FRIEND

LXXVIII.--OF GALLUS

LXXVIIII.--OF LESBIUS

LXXX.--TO GELLIUS

LXXXI.--TO JUVENTIUS

LXXXII.--TO QUINTIUS

LXXXIII.--OF LESBIA'S HUSBAND

LXXXIIII.--OF ARRIUS, A ROMAN 'ARRY

LXXXV.--HOW THE POET LOVES

LXXXVI.--OF QUINTIA

LXXXVII --TO LESBIA

LXXVI.--IN SELF-GRATULATION

LXXXVIII.--TO GELLIUS

LXXXVIIII.--ON GELLIUS

LXXXX.--ON GELLIUS

LXXXXI.--TO GELLIUS

LXXXXII.--ON LESBIA

LXXXXIII.--ON JULIUS CÆSAR

LXXXXIIII.--AGAINST MENTULA (MAMURRA)

LXXXXV.--ON THE "ZMYRNA" OF THE POET CINNA

LXXXXVI.--TO CALVUS, ANENT THE DEAD QUARTILLA

LXXXXVII.--ON ÆMILIUS THE FOUL

LXXXXVIII.--TO VICTIUS THE STINKARD

LXXXXVIIII.--TO JUVENTIUS

C.--ON CÆLIUS AND QUINTIUS

CI.--ON THE BURIAL OF HIS BROTHER

CII.--TO CORNELIUS

CIII.--TO SILO

CIIII.--CONCERNING LESBIA

CV.--ON MAMURRA

CVI.--THE AUCTIONEER AND THE FAIR BOY

CVII.--TO LESBIA RECONCILED

CVIII.--ON COMINIUS

CVIIII.--TO LESBIA ON HER VOW OF CONSTANCY

CX.--TO AUFILENA

CXI.--TO THE SAME

CXII.--ON NASO

CXIII.--TO CINNA

CXIIII.--ON MAMURRA'S SQUANDERING

CXV.--OF THE SAME

CXVI.--TO GELLIUS THE CRITIC

NOTES ILLUSTRATIVE AND EXPLANATORY

PREFACE

DEAR MR. SMITHERS,

By every right I ought to choose you to edit and bring out Sir Richard Burton's translation of Catullus, because you collaborated with him on this work by a correspondence of many months before he died. If I have hesitated so long as to its production, it was because his notes, which are mostly like pencilled cobwebs, strewn all over his Latin edition, were headed, "NEVER SHEW HALF-FINISHED WORK TO WOMEN OR FOOLS." The reason of this remark was, that in all his writings, his first copy, his first thought, was always the best and the most powerful. Like many a painter who will go on improving and touching up his picture till he has destroyed the likeness, and the startling realistic nature of his subject, so would Sir Richard go on weakening his first copy by improvements, and then appeal to me to say which was the best. I was almost invariably obliged, in conscience, to induce him to stick to the first thought, which had grasped the whole meaning like a flash. These notes were made in a most curious way. He used to bring his Latin Catullus down to table d'hôte with him, and he used to come and sit by me, but the moment he got a person on the other side, who did not interest him, he used to whisper to me, "Talk, that I may do my Catullus," and between the courses he wrote what I now give you. The public school-boy is taught that the Atys was unique in subject and metre, that it was the greatest and most remarkable poem in Latin literature, famous for the fiery vehemence of the Greek dithyramb, that it was the only specimen in Latin of the Galliambic measure, so called, because sung by the Gallæ--and I suspect that the school-boy now learns that there are half a dozen others, which you can doubtless name. To my mind the gems of the whole translation are the Epithalamium or Epos of the marriage of Vinia and Manlius, and the Parcae in that of Peleus and Thetis. Sir Richard laid great stress on the following in his notes, headed "Compare with Catullus, the sweet and tender little Villanelle, by Mr. Edmund Gosse," for the Viol and Flute--the XIX cent. with the I^{st.}

"Little mistress mine, good-bye!

  I have been your sparrow true;

Dig my grave, for I must die.

Waste no tear, and heave no sigh;

  Life should still be blithe for you,

Little mistress mine, good-bye!

In your garden let me lie

  Underneath the pointed yew,

Dig my grave, for I must die.

We have loved the quiet sky

  With its tender arch of blue;

Little mistress mine, good-bye!

That I still may feel you nigh,

  In your virgin bosom, too,

Dig my grave, for I must die.

Let our garden friends that fly

  Be the mourners, fit and few.

Little mistress mine, good-bye!

  Dig my grave, for I must die."

Sir Richard seriously began his Catullus on Feb. 18th, 1890, at Hamman R'irha, in North Africa. He had finished the first rough copy on March 31st, 1890, at Trieste. He made a second copy beginning May 23rd, 1890, at Trieste, which was finished July 21st, 1890, at Zurich. He then writes a margin. "Work incomplete, but as soon as I receive Mr. Smithers' prose, I will fill in the words I now leave in stars, in order that we may not use the same expressions, and I will then make a third, fair, and complete copy." But, alas! then he was surprised by Death.

I am afraid that Sir Richard's readers may be disappointed to find that, unlike Mr. Grant Allen, there is no excursus on the origin of Tree-worship, and therefore that, perhaps, through ignorance, I have omitted something. Sir Richard did write in the sixties and seventies on Tree-alphabets, the Ogham Runes and El Mushajjar, the Arabic Tree-alphabet,--and had theories and opinions as to its origin; but he did not, I know, connect them in any way, however remote, with Catullus. I therefore venture to think you will quite agree with me, that they have no business here, but should appear in connection with my future work, "Labours and Wisdom of Sir Richard Burton."

All these three and a half years, I have hesitated what to do, but after seeing other men's translations, his incomplete work is, in my humble estimation, too good to be consigned to oblivion, so that I will no longer defer to send you a type-written copy, and to ask you to bring it through the press, supplying the Latin text, and adding thereto your own prose, which we never saw.

Yours truly,

ISABEL BURTON.

July 11th, 1894.

FOREWORD

A scholar lively, remembered to me, that Catullus translated word for word, is an anachronism, and that a literal English rendering in the nineteenth century could be true to the poet's letter, but false to his spirit. I was compelled to admit that something of this is true; but it is not the whole truth. "Consulting modern taste" means really a mere imitation, a re-cast of the ancient past in modern material. It is presenting the toga'd citizen, rough, haughty, and careless of any approbation not his own, in the costume of to-day,--boiled shirt, dove-tailed coat, black-cloth clothes, white pocket-handkerchief, and diamond ring. Moreover, of these transmogrifications we have already enough and to spare. But we have not, as far as I know, any version of Catullus which can transport the English reader from the teachings of our century to that preceding the Christian Era. As discovery is mostly my mania, I have hit upon a bastard-urging to indulge it, by a presenting to the public of certain classics in the nude Roman poetry, like the Arab, and of the same date....

RICHARD F. BURTON.

Trieste, 1890.

[The Foreword just given is an unfinished pencilling on the margin of Sir Richard's Latin text of Catullus. I reproduce below, a portion of his Foreword to a previous translation from the Latin on which we collaborated and which was issued in the summer of 1890.--L. C. S.]

A 'cute French publisher lately remarked to me that, as a rule, versions in verse are as enjoyable to the writer as they are unenjoyed by the reader, who vehemently doubts their truth and trustworthiness. These pages hold in view one object sole and simple, namely, to prove that a translation, metrical and literal, may be true and may be trustworthy.

As I told the public (Camoens: Life and Lusiads ii. 185-198), it has ever been my ambition to reverse the late Mr. Matthew Arnold's peremptory dictum:--"In a verse translation no original work is any longer recognisable." And here I may be allowed to borrow from my Supplemental Arabian Nights (Vol. vi., Appendix pp. 411-412, a book known to few and never to be reprinted) my vision of the ideal translation which should not be relegated to the Limbus of Intentions.

"My estimate of a translator's office has never been of the low level generally assigned to it even in the days when Englishmen were in the habit of translating every work, interesting or important, published out of England, and of thus giving a continental and cosmopolitan flavour to their literature. We cannot at this period expect much from a 'man of letters' who must produce a monthly volume for a pittance of £20: of him we need not speak. But the translator at his best, works, when reproducing the matter and the manner of his original, upon two distinct lines. His prime and primary object is to please his reader, edifying him and gratifying his taste; the second is to produce an honest and faithful copy, adding naught to the sense or abating aught of its especial cachet. He has, however, or should have, another aim wherein is displayed the acme of hermeneutic art. Every language can profitably lend something to and take somewhat from its neighbours--an epithet, a metaphor, a naïf idiom, a turn of phrase. And the translator of original mind who notes the innumerable shades of tone, manner and complexion will not neglect the frequent opportunities of enriching his mother-tongue with novel and alien ornaments which shall justly be accounted barbarisms until formally naturalized and adopted. Nor will any modern versionist relegate to a foot-note, as is the malpractice of his banal brotherhood, the striking and often startling phases of the foreign author's phraseology and dull the text with well-worn and commonplace English equivalents, thus doing the clean reverse of what he should do. It was this beau idéal of a translator's success which made Eustache Deschamps write of his contemporary and brother bard,

Grand Translateur, noble Geoffroy Chaucier.

Here

'The firste finder of our fair langage'

is styled 'a Socrates in philosophy, a Seneca in morals, an Angel in conduct and a great Translator,'--a seeming anti-climax which has scandalized not a little sundry inditers of 'Lives' and 'Memoirs.' The title is no bathos: it is given simply because Chaucer translated (using the term in its best and highest sense) into his pure, simple and strong English tongue with all its linguistic peculiarities, the thoughts and fancies of his foreign models, the very letter and spirit of Petrarch and Boccaccio."

For the humble literary status of translation in modern England and for the short-comings of the average English translator, public taste or rather caprice is mainly to be blamed. The "general reader," the man not in the street but the man who makes up the educated mass, greatly relishes a novelty in the way of "plot" or story or catastrophe while he has a natural dislike to novelties of style and diction, demanding a certain dilution of the unfamiliar with the familiar. Hence our translations in verse, especially when rhymed, become for the most part deflorations or excerpts, adaptations or periphrases more or less meritorious and the "translator" was justly enough dubbed "traitor" by critics of the severer sort. And he amply deserves the injurious name when ignorance of his original's language perforce makes him pander to popular prescription.

But the good time which has long been coming seems now to have come. The home reader will no longer put up with the careless caricatures of classical chefs d'oeuvre which satisfied his old-fashioned predecessor. Our youngers, in most points our seniors, now expect the translation not only to interpret the sense of the original but also, when the text lends itself to such treatment, to render it verbatim et literatim, nothing being increased or diminished, curtailed or expanded. Moreover, in the choicer passages, they so far require an echo of the original music that its melody and harmony should be suggested to their mind. Welcomed also are the mannerisms of the translator's model as far as these aid in preserving, under the disguise of another dialect, the individuality of the foreigner and his peculiar costume.

That this high ideal of translation is at length becoming popular now appears in our literature. The "Villon Society," when advertizing the novels of Matteo Bandello, Bishop of Agen, justly remarks of the translator, Mr. John Payne, that his previous works have proved him to possess special qualifications for "the delicate and difficult task of transferring into his own language at once the savour and the substance, the matter and the manner of works of the highest individuality, conceived and executed in a foreign language."

In my version of hexameters and pentameters I have not shirked the metre although it is strangely out of favour in English literature while we read it and enjoy it in German. There is little valid reason for our aversion; the rhythm has been made familiar to our ears by long courses of Greek and Latin and the rarity of spondaic feet is assuredly to be supplied by art and artifice.

And now it is time for farewelling my friends:--we may no longer (alas!) address them, with the ingenuous Ancient in the imperative

Vos Plaudite.

RICHARD F. BURTON.

July, 1890.

     *       *       *       *       *

INTRODUCTION

The present translation was jointly undertaken by the late Sir Richard Burton and myself in 1890, some months before his sudden and lamented death. We had previously put into English, and privately printed, a body of verse from the Latin, and our aim was to follow it with literal and unexpurgated renderings of Catullus, Juvenal, and Ausonius, from the same tongue. Sir Richard laid great stress on the necessity of thoroughly annotating each translation from an erotic (and especially a paederastic) point of view, but subsequent circumstances caused me to abandon that intention.

The Latin text of Catullus printed in this volume is that of Mueller (A.D. 1885), which Sir Richard Burton chose as the basis for our translation, and to that text I have mainly adhered. On some few occasions, however, I have slightly deviated from it, and, although I have consulted Owen and Postgate, in such cases I have usually followed Robinson Ellis.

Bearing in mind my duty to the reader as well as to the author, I have aimed at producing a readable translation, and yet as literal a version (castrating no passages) as the dissimilarity in idiom of the two languages, Latin and English, permit; and I claim for this volume that it is the first literal and complete English translation as yet issued of Catullus. The translations into English verse which I have consulted are The Adventures of Catullus, and the History of his Amours with Lesbia (done from the French, 1707), Nott, Lamb, Fleay, (privately printed, 1864), Hart-Davies, Shaw, Cranstoun, Martin, Grant Allen, and Ellis. Of these, none has been helpful to me save Professor Robinson Ellis's Poems and Fragments of Catullus translated in the metres of the original,--a most excellent and scholarly version, to which I owe great indebtedness for many a felicitous expression. I have also used Dr. Nott freely in my annotations. The only English prose translation of which I have any knowledge is the one in Bohn's edition of Catullus, and this, in addition to being bowdlerized, is in a host of passages more a paraphrase than a literal translation.

I have not thought it needful in any case to point out my deviations from Mueller's text, and I have cleared the volume of all the load of mythological and historical notes which are usually appended to a translation of a classic, contenting myself with referring the non-classical reader to Bohn's edition of the poet.

Of the boldness of Sir Richard Burton's experiment of a metrical and linear translation there can be no question; and on the whole he has succeeded in proving his contention as to its possibility, though it must be confessed that it is at times at the cost of obscurity, or of inversions of sentences which certainly are compelled to lay claim to a poet's license. It must, however, be borne in mind that in a letter to me just before his death, he expressed his intention of going entirely through the work afresh, on receiving my prose, adding that it needed "a power of polishing."

To me has fallen the task of editing Sir Richard's share in this volume from a type-written copy literally swarming with copyist's errors. With respect to the occasional lacunae which appear, I can merely state that Lady Burton has repeatedly assured me that she has furnished me with a faithful copy of her husband's translation, and that the words omitted (which are here indicated by full points, not asterisks) were not filled in by him, because he was first awaiting my translation with the view of our not using similar expressions. However, Lady Burton has without any reason consistently refused me even a glance at his MS.; and in our previous work from the Latin I did not find Sir Richard trouble himself in the least concerning our using like expressions.

The frontispiece to this volume is reproduced from the statue which stands over the Palazzo di Consiglio, the Council House at Verona, which is the only representation of Catullus extant.

LEONARD C. SMITHERS.

July 11th, 1894.

C. VALERII CATVLLI LIBER. I.

Quoi dono lepidum novom libellum

Arida modo pumice expolitum?

Corneli, tibi: namque tu solebas

Meas esse aliquid putare nugas,

Iam tum cum ausus es unus Italorum                             5

Omne aevum tribus explicare chartis

Doctis, Iuppiter, et laboriosis.

Quare habe tibi quidquid hoc libelli,

Qualecumque, quod o patrona virgo,

Plus uno maneat perenne saeclo.                               10

I. DEDICATION TO CORNELIUS NEPOS.

Now smooth'd to polish due with pumice dry

Whereto this lively booklet new give I?

To thee (Cornelius!); for wast ever fain

To deem my trifles somewhat boon contain;

E'en when thou single 'mongst Italians found                   5

Daredst all periods in three Scripts expound

Learned (by Jupiter!) elaborately.

Then take thee whatso in this booklet be,

Such as it is, whereto O Patron Maid

To live down Ages lend thou lasting aid!                      10

To whom inscribe my dainty tome--just out and with ashen pumice polished?

Cornelius, to thee! for thou wert wont to deem my triflings of account, and

at a time when thou alone of Italians didst dare unfold the ages' abstract

in three chronicles--learned, by Jupiter!--and most laboriously writ.

Wherefore take thou this booklet, such as 'tis, and O Virgin Patroness, may

it outlive generations more than one.

II.

Passer, deliciae meae puellae,

Quicum ludere, quem in sinu tenere,

Quoi primum digitum dare adpetenti

Et acris solet incitare morsus,

Cum desiderio meo nitenti                                      5

Carum nescioquid libet iocari

Vt solaciolum sui doloris,

Credo ut iam gravis acquiescat ardor:

Tecum ludere sicut ipsa possem

Et tristis animi levare curas!                                10

    *    *    *    *

Tam gratumst mihi quam ferunt puellae

Pernici aureolum fuisse malum,

Quod zonam soluit diu ligatam.

II. LESBIA'S SPARROW.

Sparrow! my pet's delicious joy,

Wherewith in bosom nurst to toy

She loves, and gives her finger-tip

For sharp-nib'd greeding neb to nip,

Were she who my desire withstood                               5

To seek some pet of merry mood,

As crumb o' comfort for her grief,

Methinks her burning lowe's relief:

Could I, as plays she, play with thee,

That mind might win from misery free!                         10

    *    *    *    *

To me t'were grateful (as they say),

Gold codling was to fleet-foot May,

Whose long-bound zone it loosed for aye.

Sparrow, petling of my girl, with which she wantons, which she presses to

her bosom, and whose eager peckings is accustomed to incite by stretching

forth her forefinger, when my bright-hued beautiful one is pleased to jest

in manner light as (perchance) a solace for her heart ache, thus methinks

she allays love's pressing heats! Would that in manner like, I were able

with thee to sport and sad cares of mind to lighten!

    *    *    *    *

This were gracious to me as in story old to the maiden fleet of foot was

the apple golden-fashioned which unloosed her girdle long-time girt.

III.

Lugete, o Veneres Cupidinesque,

Et quantumst hominum venustiorum.

Passer mortuus est meae puellae,

Passer, deliciae meae puellae,

Quem plus illa oculis suis amabat:                             5

Nam mellitus erat suamque norat

Ipsa tam bene quam puella matrem

Nec sese a gremio illius movebat,

Sed circumsiliens modo huc modo illuc

Ad solam dominam usque pipiabat.                              10

Qui nunc it per iter tenebricosum

Illuc, unde negant redire quemquam.

At vobis male sit, malae tenebrae

Orci, quae omnia bella devoratis:

Tam bellum mihi passerem abstulistis.                         15

O factum male! io miselle passer!

Tua nunc opera meae puellae

Flendo turgiduli rubent ocelli.

III. ON THE DEATH OF LESBIA'S SPARROW.

Weep every Venus, and all Cupids wail,

And men whose gentler spirits still prevail.

Dead is the Sparrow of my girl, the joy,

Sparrow, my sweeting's most delicious toy,

Whom loved she dearer than her very eyes;                      5

For he was honeyed-pet and anywise

Knew her, as even she her mother knew;

Ne'er from her bosom's harbourage he flew

But 'round her hopping here, there, everywhere,

Piped he to none but her his lady fair.                       10

Now must he wander o'er the darkling way

Thither, whence life-return the Fates denay.

But ah! beshrew you, evil Shadows low'ring

In Orcus ever loveliest things devouring:

Who bore so pretty a Sparrow fro' her ta'en.                  15

(Oh hapless birdie and Oh deed of bane!)

Now by your wanton work my girl appears

With turgid eyelids tinted rose by tears.

Mourn ye, O ye Loves and Cupids and all men of gracious mind. Dead is the

sparrow of my girl, sparrow, sweetling of my girl. Which more than her eyes

she loved; for sweet as honey was it and its mistress knew, as well as

damsel knoweth her own mother nor from her bosom did it rove, but hopping

round first one side then the other, to its mistress alone it evermore did

chirp. Now does it fare along that path of shadows whence naught may e'er

return. Ill be to ye, savage glooms of Orcus, which swallow up all things

of fairness: which have snatched away from me the comely sparrow. O deed of

bale! O sparrow sad of plight! Now on thy account my girl's sweet eyes,

swollen, do redden with tear-drops.

IIII.

Phaselus ille, quem videtis, hospites,

Ait fuisse navium celerrimus,

Neque ullius natantis impetum trabis

Nequisse praeter ire, sive palmulis

Opus foret volare sive linteo.                                 5

Et hoc negat minacis Adriatici

Negare litus insulasve Cycladas

Rhodumque nobilem horridamque Thraciam

Propontida trucemve Ponticum sinum,

Vbi iste post phaselus antea fuit                             10

Comata silva: nam Cytorio in iugo

Loquente saepe sibilum edidit coma.

Amastri Pontica et Cytore buxifer,

Tibi haec fuisse et esse cognitissima

Ait phaselus: ultima ex origine                               15

Tuo stetisse dicit in cacumine,

Tuo imbuisse palmulas in aequore,

Et inde tot per inpotentia freta

Erum tulisse, laeva sive dextera

Vocaret aura, sive utrumque Iuppiter                          20

Simul secundus incidisset in pedem;

Neque ulla vota litoralibus deis

Sibi esse facta, cum veniret a marei

Novissime hunc ad usque limpidum lacum.

Sed haec prius fuere: nunc recondita                          25

Senet quiete seque dedicat tibi,

Gemelle Castor et gemelle Castoris.

IIII. ON HIS PINNACE.

Yonder Pinnace ye (my guests!) behold

Saith she was erstwhile fleetest-fleet of crafts,

Nor could by swiftness of aught plank that swims,

Be she outstripped, whether paddle plied,

Or fared she scudding under canvas-sail.                       5

Eke she defieth threat'ning Adrian shore,

Dare not denay her, insular Cyclades,

And noble Rhodos and ferocious Thrace,

Propontis too and blustering Pontic bight.

Where she (my Pinnace now) in times before,                   10

Was leafy woodling on Cytórean Chine

For ever loquent lisping with her leaves.

Pontic Amastris! Box-tree-clad Cytórus!

Cognisant were ye, and you weet full well

(So saith my Pinnace) how from earliest age                   15

Upon your highmost-spiring peak she stood,

How in your waters first her sculls were dipt,

And thence thro' many and many an important strait

She bore her owner whether left or right,

Where breezes bade her fare, or Jupiter deigned               20

At once propitious strike the sail full square;

Nor to the sea-shore gods was aught of vow

By her deemed needful, when from Ocean's bourne

Extreme she voyaged for this limpid lake.

Yet were such things whilome: now she retired                 25

In quiet age devotes herself to thee

(O twin-born Castor) twain with Castor's twin.

That pinnace which ye see, my friends, says that it was the speediest of

boats, nor any craft the surface skimming but it could gain the lead,

whether the course were gone o'er with plashing oars or bended sail. And

this the menacing Adriatic shores may not deny, nor may the Island

Cyclades, nor noble Rhodes and bristling Thrace, Propontis nor the gusty

Pontic gulf, where itself (afterwards a pinnace to become) erstwhile was a

foliaged clump; and oft on Cytorus' ridge hath this foliage announced

itself in vocal rustling. And to thee, Pontic Amastris, and to box-screened

Cytorus, the pinnace vows that this was alway and yet is of common

knowledge most notorious; states that from its primal being it stood upon

thy topmost peak, dipped its oars in thy waters, and bore its master thence

through surly seas of number frequent, whether the wind whistled 'gainst

the starboard quarter or the lee or whether Jove propitious fell on both

the sheets at once; nor any vows [from stress of storm] to shore-gods were

ever made by it when coming from the uttermost seas unto this glassy lake.

But these things were of time gone by: now laid away, it rusts in peace and

dedicates its age to thee, twin Castor, and to Castor's twin.

V.

Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus,

Rumoresque senum severiorum

Omnes unius aestimemus assis.

Soles occidere et redire possunt:

Nobis cum semel occidit brevis lux,                            5

Nox est perpetua una dormienda.

Da mi basia mille, deinde centum,

Dein mille altera, dein secunda centum,

Deinde usque altera mille, deinde centum.

Dein, cum milia multa fecerimus,                              10

Conturbabimus illa, ne sciamus,

Aut nequis malus invidere possit,

Cum tantum sciet esse basiorum.

V.  TO LESBIA, (OF LESBOS--CLODIA?)

Love we (my Lesbia!) and live we our day,

While all stern sayings crabbed sages say,

At one doit's value let us price and prize!

The Suns can westward sink again to rise

But we, extinguished once our tiny light,                      5

Perforce shall slumber through one lasting night!

Kiss me a thousand times, then hundred more,

Then thousand others, then a new five-score,

Still other thousand other hundred store.

Last when the sums to many thousands grow,                    10

The tale let's trouble till no more we know,

Nor envious wight despiteful shall misween us

Knowing how many kisses have been kissed between us.

Let us live, my Lesbia, and let us love, and count all the mumblings of

sour age at a penny's fee. Suns set can rise again: we when once our brief

light has set must sleep through a perpetual night. Give me of kisses a

thousand, and then a hundred, then another thousand, then a second hundred,

then another thousand without resting, then a hundred. Then, when we have

made many thousands, we will confuse the count lest we know the numbering,

so that no wretch may be able to envy us through knowledge of our kisses'

number.

VI.

Flavi, delicias tuas Catullo,

Nei sint inlepidae atque inelegantes,

Velles dicere, nec tacere posses.

Verum nescioquid febriculosi

Scorti diligis: hoc pudet fateri.                              5

Nam te non viduas iacere noctes

Nequiquam tacitum cubile clamat

Sertis ac Syrio fragrans olivo,

Pulvinusque peraeque et hic et ille

Attritus, tremulique quassa lecti                             10

Argutatio inambulatioque.

Nam nil stupra valet, nihil, tacere.

Cur? non tam latera ecfututa pandas,

Nei tu quid facias ineptiarum.

Quare quidquid habes boni malique,                            15

Dic nobis. volo te ac tuos amores

Ad caelum lepido vocare versu.

VI. TO FLAVIUS: MIS-SPEAKING HIS MISTRESS.

Thy Charmer (Flavius!) to Catullus' ear

Were she not manner'd mean and worst in wit

Perforce thou hadst praised nor couldst silence keep.

But some enfevered jade, I wot-not-what,

Some piece thou lovest, blushing this to own.                  5

For, nowise 'customed widower nights to lie

Thou 'rt ever summoned by no silent bed

With flow'r-wreaths fragrant and with Syrian oil,

By mattress, bolsters, here, there, everywhere

Deep-dinted, and by quaking, shaking couch                    10

All crepitation and mobility.

Explain! none whoredoms (no!) shall close my lips.

Why? such outfuttered flank thou ne'er wouldst show

Had not some fulsome work by thee been wrought.

Then what thou holdest, boon or bane be pleased               15

Disclose! For thee and thy beloved fain would I

Upraise to Heaven with my liveliest lay.

O Flavius, of thy sweetheart to Catullus thou would'st speak, nor could'st

thou keep silent, were she not both ill-mannered and ungraceful. In truth

thou affectest I know not what hot-blooded whore: this thou art ashamed to

own. For that thou dost not lie alone a-nights thy couch, fragrant with

garlands and Syrian unguent, in no way mute cries out, and eke the pillow

and bolsters indented here and there, and the creakings and joggings of the

quivering bed: unless thou canst silence these, nothing and again nothing

avails thee to hide thy whoredoms. And why? Thou wouldst not display such

drainèd flanks unless occupied in some tomfoolery. Wherefore, whatsoever

thou hast, be it good or ill, tell us! I wish to laud thee and thy loves to

the sky in joyous verse.

VII.

Quaeris, quot mihi basiationes

Tuae, Lesbia, sint satis superque.

Quam magnus numerus Libyssae arenae

Lasarpiciferis iacet Cyrenis,

Oraclum Iovis inter aestuosi                                   5

Et Batti veteris sacrum sepulcrum,

Aut quam sidera multa, cum tacet nox,

Furtivos hominum vident amores,

Tam te basia multa basiare

Vesano satis et super Catullost,                              10

Quae nec pernumerare curiosi

Possint nec mala fascinare lingua.

VII.  TO LESBIA STILL BELOVED.

Thou ask'st How many kissing bouts I bore

From thee (my Lesbia!) or be enough or more?

I say what mighty sum of Lybian-sands

Confine Cyrene's Laserpitium-lands

'Twixt Oracle of Jove the Swelterer                            5

And olden Battus' holy Sepulchre,

Or stars innumerate through night-stillness ken

The stolen Love-delights of mortal men,

For that to kiss thee with unending kisses

For mad Catullus enough and more be this,                     10

Kisses nor curious wight shall count their tale,

Nor to bewitch us evil tongue avail.

Thou askest, how many kisses of thine, Lesbia, may be enough and to spare

for me. As the countless Libyan sands which strew the spicy strand of

Cyrene 'twixt the oracle of swelt'ring Jove and the sacred sepulchre of

ancient Battus, or as the thronging stars which in the hush of darkness

witness the furtive loves of mortals, to kiss thee with kisses of so great

a number is enough and to spare for passion-driven Catullus: so many that

prying eyes may not avail to number, nor ill tongues to ensorcel.

VIII.

Miser Catulle, desinas ineptire,

Et quod vides perisse perditum ducas.

Fulsere quondam candidi tibi soles,

Cum ventitabas quo puella ducebat

Amata nobis quantum amabitur nulla.                            5

Ibi illa multa tum iocosa fiebant,

Quae tu volebas nec puella nolebat.

Fulsere vere candidi tibi soles.

Nunc iam illa non vult: tu quoque, inpotens, noli

Nec quae fugit sectare, nec miser vive,                       10

Sed obstinata mente perfer, obdura.

Vale, puella. iam Catullus obdurat,

Nec te requiret nec rogabit invitam:

At tu dolebis, cum rogaberis nulla.

Scelesta, vae te! quae tibi manet vita!                       15

Quis nunc te adibit? cui videberis bella?

Quem nunc amabis? cuius esse diceris?

Quem basiabis? cui labella mordebis?

At tu, Catulle, destinatus obdura.

VIII.  TO HIMSELF RECOUNTING LESBIA'S INCONSTANCY.

Woe-full Catullus! cease to play the fool

And what thou seest dead as dead regard!

Whilòme the sheeniest suns for thee did shine

When oft-a-tripping whither led the girl

By us belovèd, as shall none be loved.                         5

There all so merry doings then were done

After thy liking, nor the girl was loath.

Then certès sheeniest suns for thee did shine.

Now she's unwilling: thou too (hapless!) will

Her flight to follow, and sad life to live:                   10

Endure with stubborn soul and still obdure.

Damsel, adieu! Catullus obdurate grown

Nor seeks thee, neither asks of thine unwill;

Yet shalt thou sorrow when none woos thee more;

Reprobate! Woe to thee! What life remains?                    15

Who now shall love thee? Who'll think thee fair?

Whom now shalt ever love? Whose wilt be called?

To whom shalt kisses give? whose liplets nip?

But thou (Catullus!) destiny-doomed obdure.

Unhappy Catullus, cease thy trifling and what thou seest lost know to be

lost. Once bright days used to shine on thee when thou wert wont to haste

whither thy girl didst lead thee, loved by us as never girl will e'er be

loved. There those many joys were joyed which thou didst wish, nor was the

girl unwilling. In truth bright days used once to shine on thee. Now she no

longer wishes: thou too, powerless to avail, must be unwilling, nor pursue

the retreating one, nor live unhappy, but with firm-set mind endure, steel

thyself. Farewell, girl, now Catullus steels himself, seeks thee not, nor

entreats thy acquiescence. But thou wilt pine, when thou hast no entreaty

proffered. Faithless, go thy way! what manner of life remaineth to thee?

who now will visit thee? who find thee beautiful? whom wilt thou love now?

whose girl wilt thou be called? whom wilt thou kiss? whose lips wilt thou

bite? But thou, Catullus, remain hardened as steel.

VIIII.

Verani, omnibus e meis amicis

Antistans mihi milibus trecentis,

Venistine domum ad tuos Penates

Fratresque unanimos anumque matrem?

Venisti. o mihi nuntii beati!                                  5

Visam te incolumem audiamque Hiberum

Narrantem loca, facta, nationes,

Vt mos est tuus, adplicansque collum

Iocundum os oculosque suaviabor.

O quantumst hominum beatiorum,                                10

Quid me laetius est beatiusve?

VIIII.  TO VERANIUS RETURNED FROM TRAVEL.

Veranius! over every friend of me

Forestanding, owned I hundred thousands three,

Home to Penates and to single-soul'd

Brethren, returned art thou and mother old?

Yes, thou art come. Oh, winsome news come well!                5

Now shall I see thee, safely hear thee tell

Of sites Iberian, deeds and nations 'spied,

(As be thy wont) and neck-a-neck applied

I'll greet with kisses thy glad lips and eyne.

Oh! Of all mortal men beatified                               10

Whose joy and gladness greater be than mine?

Veranius, of all my friends standing in the front, owned I three hundred

thousands of them, hast thou come home to thy Penates, thy longing brothers

and thine aged mother? Thou hast come back. O joyful news to me! I may see

thee safe and sound, and may hear thee speak of regions, deeds, and peoples

Iberian, as is thy manner; and reclining o'er thy neck shall kiss thy