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 foolAnd what thou seest dead as dead regard!Whilòme the sheeniest suns for thee did shineWhen oft-a-tripping whither led the girlBy us beloved, as shall none be loved.There all so merry doings then were doneAfter thy liking, nor the girl was loath.Then certès sheeniest suns for thee did shine.Now she's unwilling: thou too (hapless!) willHer flight to follow, and sad life to live:Endure with stubborn soul and still obdure.Damsel, adieu! Catullus obdurate grownNor seeks thee, neither asks of thine unwill;Yet shalt thou sorrow when none woos thee more;Reprobate! Woe to thee! What life remains?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.

TO VERANIUS RETURNED FROM TRAVELVeranius! over every friend of meForestanding, owned I hundred thousands three,Home to Penates and to single-soul'dBrethren, returned art thou and mother old?Yes, thou art come. Oh, winsome news come well!Now shall I see thee, safely hear thee tellOf sites Iberian, deeds and nations 'spied,(As be thy wont) and neck-a-neck appliedI'll greet with kisses thy glad lips and eyne.Oh! Of all mortal men beatifiedWhose joy and gladness greater be than mine?

HE MEETS VARUS AND MISTRESSLed me my Varus to his flame,As I from Forum idling came.Forthright some whorelet judged I itNor lacking looks nor wanting wit,When hied we thither, mid us threeFell various talk, as how might beBithynia now, and how it fared,And if some coin I made or spared."There was no cause (I soothly said)"The Praetors or the Cohort madeThence to return with oilier head;The more when ruled byPraetor, as pile the Cohort rating."Quoth they, "But certes as 'twas thereThe custom rose, some men to bearLitter thou boughtest ?" I to her