Upon your highmost-spiring peak she stood,How in your waters first her sculls were dipt,And thence thro' many and many an important straitShe bore her owner whether left or right,Where breezes bade her fare, or Jupiter deigned At once propitious strike the sail full square;Nor to the sea-shore gods was aught of vowBy her deemed needful, when from Ocean's bourneExtreme she voyaged for this limpid lake.Yet were such things whilome: now she retiredIn quiet age devotes herself to thee(0 twin-born Castor) twain with Castor's twin.
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 riseBut we, extinguished once our tiny light,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,The tale let's trouble till no more we know,Nor envious wight despiteful shall misween usKnowing how many kisses have been kissed between us.
TO FLAVIUS: MIS-SPEAKING HIS MISTRESSThy Charmer (Flavius!) to Catullus' earWere she not manner'd mean and worst in witPerforce thou hadst praised nor couldst silence keep.But some enfevered jade, I wot-not-what,Some piece thou lovest, blushing this to own.For, nowise 'customed widower nights to lieThou 'rt ever summoned by no silent bedWith flow'r-wreaths fragrant and with Syrian oil,By mattress, bolsters, here, there, everywhereDeep-dinted, and by quaking, shaking couchAll crepitation and mobility.Explain! none whoredoms (no!) shall close my lips.Why? such outfuttered flank thou ne'er wouldst showHad not some fulsome work by thee been wrought.Then what thou holdest, boon or bane be pleased Disclose! For thee and thy beloved fain would IUpraise to Heaven with my liveliest lay.
TO LESBIA STILL BELOVEDThou ask'st How many kissing bouts I boreFrom thee (my Lesbia!) or be enough or more?I say what mighty sum of Lybian-sandsConfine Cyrene's Laserpitium-lands'Twixt Oracle of Jove the SweltererAnd olden Battus' holy Sepulchre,Or stars innumerate through night-stillness kenThe stolen Love-delights of mortal men,For that to kiss thee with unending kissesFor mad Catullus enough and more be this,Risses nor curious wight shall count their tale,Nor to bewitch us evil tongue avail.
TO HIMSELF RECOUNTING LESBIA'S INCONSTANCYWoe-full Catullus! cease to play the fool