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 herTo seem but richer, wealthier,Cry, "Nay, with me 'twas not so illThat, given the Province suffered, stillEight stiff-backed loons I could not buy.'(Withal none here nor there owned IWho broken leg of Couch outwornOn nape of neck had ever borne!)Then she, as pathic piece became,"Prithee Catullus mine, those sameLend me, Serapis-wards I'd hie." "Easy, on no-wise, no," quoth I, "Whate'er was mine, I lately said Is some mistake, my camaradeOne Cinna-Gaius-bought the lot, But his or mine, it matters what?I use it freely as though bought, Yet thou, pert troubler, most absurd, None suffer'st speak an idle word."

A PARTING INSULT TO LESBIAFurius and Aurelius, Catullus' friends, Whether extremest Indian shore he brave,Strands where far-resounding billow rendsThe shattered wave,Or 'mid Hyrcanians dwell he, Arabs soft and wild,Sacis and Parthians of the arrow fain,Or where the Seven-mouth'd Nilus mud-defiled Tinges the Main,Or climb he lofty Alpine Crest and noteWorks monumental, Caesar's grandeur telling,Rhine Gallic, horrid Ocean and remoteBritons low-dwelling;All these (whatever shall the will designOf Heaven-homed Gods) Oh ye prepared to tempt; Announce your briefest to that damsel mine In words unkempt :—Live she and love she wenchers several,Embrace three hundred wi' the like requitals, None truly loving and withal of allBursting the vitals: My love regard she not, my love of yore,Which fell through fault of her, as falls the fair Last meadow-floret whenas passed it o'ertouch of the share.

TO M. ASINIUS WHO STOLE NAPERYMarrúcinus Asinius! ill thou usestThat hand sinistral in thy wit and wineFilching the napkins of more heedless hosts.Dost find this funny? Fool it passeth theeHow 'tis a sordid deed, a sorry jest.Dost misbelieve me? Trust to Pollio,Thy brother, ready to compound such theftsE'en at a talent's cost; for he's a youthIn speech past master and in fair pleasantries.Of hendecasyllabics hundreds threeTherefore expect thou, or return forthrightLinens whose loss affects me not for worthBut as mementoes of a comrade mine.For napkins Saetaban from Ebro-landFabúllus ent me a free giftie givenAlso Veránius: these perforce I loveE'en as my Veraniólus and Fabúllus.

FABULLUS IS INVITED TO A POET'S SUPPERThou'lt sup right well with me, Fabúllus mine,In days few-numbered an the Gods design,An great and goodly meal thou bring wi' theeNowise forgetting damsel bright o' blee,With wine, and salty wit and laughs all-gay.