Carmina

Catullus

Catullus, Gaius Valerius. The Carmina of Caius Valerius Catullus. Burton, Sir Richard Francis, translator. London, Printed for the Translators, 1894.

  1. Whoe'er shall dare compare?
  2. Thou wanting, never son and heir
  3. The Hearth can bear, nor parents be
  4. By issue girt, yet can it bear,
  5. Thou willing:—with such Deity,
  6. Whoe'er shall dare compare?
  7. An lack a land thy sacring rite,
  8. The perfect rule we ne'er shall see
  9. Reach Earth's far bourne; yet such we sight,
  10. Thou willing:—with such Deity
  11. Whoe'er shall dare compare?
  12. Your folds ye gateways wide-ope swing!
  13. The maiden comes. Seest not the sheen
  14. Of links their splendent tresses fling?
  15. Let shame retard the modest mien.
  16. ---
  17. ---
  18. Who more she hears us weeps the more,
  19. That needs she must advance.
  20. Cease raining tear-drops! not for thee,
  21. Aurunculeia, risk we deem,
  22. That fairer femininety
  23. Clear day outdawned from Ocean stream
  24. Shall ever more behold.
  25. Such in the many-tinted bower
  26. Of rich man's garden passing gay
  27. Upstands the hyacinthine flower.
  28. But thou delayest, wanes the day:
  29. “Prithee, come forth new Bride.”
  30. Prithee, come forth new Bride! methinks,
  31. Drawing in sight, the talk we hold
  32. Thou haply hearest. See the Links!
  33. How shake their locks begilt with gold:
  34. Prithee, new Bride come forth.
  35. Not lightly given thy mate to ill
  36. Joys and adulterous delights
  37. Foul fleshly pleasures seeking still
  38. Shall ever choose he lie o' nights
  39. Far from thy tender paps.
  40. But as with pliant shoots the vine
  41. Round nearest tree-trunk winds her way,
  42. He shall be ever twined in thine
  43. Embraces:— yet, lo! wanes the day:
  44. Prithee, come forth new Bride!
  45. Couchlet which to me and all
  46. ---
  47. With bright white bedstead foot.
  48. What joys the lord of thee betide!
  49. What love-liesse on vaguing way
  50. 0' nights! What sweets in morning tide
  51. For thee be stored! Yet wanes the day: