Carmina

Whom now art tombed so far nor ’mid familiar pavestones

Nor wi’ thine ashes stored near to thy kith and thy kin,

But in that Troy obscene, that Troy of ill-omen, entombèd

Holds thee, an alien earth-buried in uttermost bourne.

Thither in haste so hot (’tis said) from allwhere the Youth-hood

Grecian, farèd in hosts forth of their hearths and their homes,

Lest with a stolen punk with fullest of pleasure should Paris

Fairly at leisure and ease sleep in the pacific bed.

Such was the hapless chance, most beautiful Laodamia,

Tare fro’ thee dearer than life, dearer than spirit itself,

Him, that husband, whose love in so mighty a whirlpool of passion

Whelmed thee absorbed and plunged deep in its gulfy abyss,

E’en as the Grecians tell hard by Phenéus of Cylléne

Drained was the marish and dried, forming the fattest of soils,

Whenas in days long done to delve through marrow of mountains

Daréd, falsing his sire, Amphtryóniades;

What time sure of his shafts he smote Stymphalian monsters

Slaying their host at the hest dealt by a lord of less worth,

So might the gateway of Heaven be trodden by more of the godheads,

Nor might Hébé abide longer to maidenhood doomed.

Yet was the depth of thy love far deeper than deepest of marish

Which the hard mistress’s yoke taught him so tamely to bear;

Never was head so dear to a grandsire wasted by life-tide

Whenas one daughter alone a grandson so tardy had reared,

Who being found against hope to inherit riches of forbears

In the well-witnessed Will haply by name did appear,

And ’spite impious hopes of baffled claimant to kinship

Startles the Vulturine grip clutching the frost-bitten poll.

Nor with such rapture e’er joyed his mate of snowy-hued plumage

Dove-mate, albeit aye wont in her immoderate heat

Said be the bird to snatch hot kisses with beak ever billing,

As diddest thou:—yet is Woman multivolent still.

But thou ’vailedest alone all these to conquer in love-lowe,

When conjoindd once more unto thy yellow-haired spouse.

Worthy of yielding to her in naught or ever so little

Came to the bosom of us she, the fair light of my life,

Round whom fluttering oft the Love-God hither and thither

Shone with a candid sheen robed in his safflower dress.

She though never she bide with one Catullus contented,

Yet will I bear with the rare thefts of my dame the discreet,

Lest over-irk I give which still of fools is the fashion.

Often did Juno eke Queen of the Heavenly host

Boil wi’ the rabidest rage at dire default of a husband

Learning the manifold thefts of her omnivolent Jove,

Yet with the Gods mankind ’tis nowise righteous to liken,

Rid me of graceless task fit for a tremulous sire.

Yet was she never to me by hand paternal committed

Whenas she came to my house reeking Assyrian scents;

Nay, in the darkness of night her furtive favours she deigned me,

Self-willed taking herself from very mate’s very breast.

Wherefore I hold it enough since given to us and us only

Boon of that day with Stone whiter than wont she denotes.

This to thee—all that I can—this offering couched in verses

(Allius!) as my return give I for service galore;

So wi’ the seabriny rust your name may never be sullied

This day and that nor yet other and other again.

Hereto add may the Gods all good gifts, which Themis erewhiles

Wont on the pious of old from her full store to bestow:

Blest be the times of the twain, thyself and she who thy life is,

Also the home wherein dallied we, no less the Dame,

Anser to boot who first of mortals brought us together,

Whence from beginning all good Fortunes that blest us were born.

Lastly than every else one dearer than self and far dearer,

Light of my life who alive living to me can endear.

Wonder not blatantly why no woman shall ever be willing

(Rufus!) her tender thigh under thyself to bestow,

Not an thou tempt her full by bribes of the rarest garments,

Or by the dear delights gems the pellucidest deal.

Harms thee an ugly tale wherein of thee is recorded

Horrible stench of the goat under thine arm-pits be lodged.

All are in dread thereof; nor wonder this, for ’tis evil

Beastie, nor damsel fair ever thereto shall succumb.

So do thou either kill that cruel pest o’ their noses,

Or at their reason of flight blatantly wondering cease.

Never, my woman oft says, with any of men will she mate be,

Save wi’ my own very self, ask her though Jupiter deign!

Says she: but womanly words that are spoken to desireful lover

Ought to be written on wind or upon water that runs.

An of a goat-stink damned from armpits fusty one suffer,

Or if a crippling gout worthily any one rack,

’Tis that rival o’ thine who lief in loves of you meddles,

And, by a wondrous fate, gains him the twain of such ills.

For that, oft as he , so oft that penance be two-fold;

Stifles her stench of goat, he too is kilt by his gout.

Wont thou to vaunt whilòme of, knowing only Catullus

(Lesbia!) nor to prefer Jupiter’s self to myself.

Then, too, I loved thee well, not as vulgar wretch his mistress

But as a father his sons loves and his sons by the law.

Now have I learnt thee aright; wherefor though burn I the hotter,

Lighter and viler by far thou unto me hast become.

How can this be? dost ask: ’tis that such injury ever

Forces the hotter to love, also the less well to will.

Cease thou of any to hope desirèd boon of well-willing,

Or deem any shall prove pious and true to his dues.

Waxes the world ingrate, no deed benevolent profits,

Nay full oft it irks even offending the more:

Such is my case whom none maltreats more grievously bitter,

Than does the man that me held one and only to friend.

Wont was Gellius hear his uncle rich in reproaches,

When any ventured aught wanton in word or in deed.