CATULLUS TO HIS OWN FARMO Farm our own, Sabine or Tiburtine,(For style thee "Tiburs" Who have not at heartTo hurt Catullus, whereas all that haveWage any Wager thou be Sabine classed)But whether Sabine or of Tiburs truerTo thy suburban Cottage fared I fainAnd fro' my bronchials drave that cursèd coughWhich not unmerited on me my maw,A-seeking sumptuous banquetings, bestowed.For I requesting to be Sestius' guestRead against claimant Antius a speech,Full-filled with poisonous pestilential trash.Hence a grave frigid rheum and frequent coughShook me till fled I to thy bosom, whereRepose and nettle-broth healed all my ills.Wherefore recruited now best thanks I giveTo thee for nowise punishing my sins:Nor do I now object if noisome writsOf Sestius hear I, but that cold and cough