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Biographical Introduction — Catidlus 











. Dedication 



Page 169 

. To Lesbia's Sparrow 






. On the death of Lesbia's Sparrow 






. .'he praise of the Pinnace 




\ "o Lesbia 






' i'o Flavius . . . . 




To Lesbia 






To himself, on Lesbia's inconstancy 








To Verannius 

. 14 



On Varus' mistress .... 




To Furius and Aurelius, the message to Lesbia 16 





To Asinius, on his practical jokes . 




Invitation to Fabullus 

. 18 



To Llcinius Calvus, in return for a present 

of poems 




To Aurelius 

. 19 



To Aurelius and Furius, a defence of 


amatory poems .... 

. 20 



To a town, on a stupid husband 




To the garden god .... 

. 22 



The garden god .... 




The garden god 

. 23 



To Aurelius ... . . 




To Varus, on Suffenus 







23. To Furius, congratulations on poverty 

24. To Juventius 

Page 25 

Lamb Page 191 | 

25. To Thallus . 
-~26. To Furius, on his villa 
.»<«27. To his cupbearer . 

28. To Verannius and FabuUus 

29. To Caesar on Mamurra 
-30. To Alphenus . 

--31. To the Peninsula of Sirmio 

32. To Hypsithilla 

33. On the Vibennii .... 
—34. Hymn to Diana 

-35. Invitation to Cseoilius 
-"^^SSTOn the Annals of Volusius 

37. To Comificius . . . . 

—88. To the frequenters of a certain tavern 

.««39. On Egnatius 

-40. To Eavidus . . . . 

41. On Mamurra's mistress 

42. On a harlot, who detained his tablets . 
~43. To the mistress of Formianus ■ 

-44. T6 his farm 

~^5. Acme and Septimius 

-46. Farewell to Bithynia 

47. To Porcius and Socration 

48. To his Love .... 
~~49. To Marcus TuUius Cicero 

— 50. To Licinius 
-^1. To Lesbia (Sappho's Ode translated) 

—62. To himself, on the times 
—53. OnCalvus ... 
54. To Caesar, on his companions 

55. To Camerius .... 

56. To Cato .... 

57. On Mamurra and Csesar 

58. To Cselius, on Lesbia's infamy 

59. OnRufa 

60. Fragment .... 























Leigh Hunt 199 
Lamb 200 i 








Leigh Hunt 204 











Leigh Hunt 211 
Lamb 211 







































Epithalamium, on the marriage of Manlius 

and Julia Pa?e 45 

Nuptial song . .... 51 

Atys . . .'' 

The marriage of Peleus and Thetis 
Episode of Ariadne, from the same 
To Hortalus ... 
Berenice's Hair 

On a wanton's door 
Epistle to Manlius 

To Rufus 

On the inconstancy of woman's lore 


To Lesbia 

On an ingrate 
On Gellius 
To Lesbia 

To himself 
To Rufus 
To Gallus ■ 
On Gellius 
On Gellius 
To Juventius, 

To Quintius 

On Lesbia's husband 

On Arrius 

On his love . 

-86. On Quintia and Lesbia 









Lamb Page 219 
Lamb 226 

Ellon 230 

Lamb 232 

Leigh Hunt 235 

>87. (Incorporated with 75.) 

88. Against Gellius 92 

89. On Gellius 92 

90. On GeUius . . . - . ... 93 

91. On Gellius 93 

■*S2 On Lesbia's abuse of him .... 93 

-as. OnCfflsar 941 

94. OnMentula 94] 

•-*5. On the " Smyrna " of the poet Cinna . 94 

—86. To Calvus, on the death of Quintilia . . 95 


On .^milius 
To Vettius 




















































To his love .... 

Page 95 

Lamb Page 286 


On Cselius and Quintius 



The rites at his brother's tomb . 

. 96 





T<rComelius . 

To Silo 









To some one who spread rumours concern- 

ing himself and Lesbia 





On Mentula .... 





On a boy and a public crier . 





To Lesbia, the reconciliation 

. 97 




To Cominius 





To Lesbia, on her vow of constancy 

. 98 





. 98 




To Aufilena 





On Naso 









To Mentula, on his estate 

. 99 




On Mentula 





To Gellins 

. 99 



The VigU of Venus 

100 Pamell 293 
Stanley 297 


1 . The pleasures of a country life 

Part of the same 
2. To DeUa . 

3. Written in sickness and absence 
Part of the same . 

4. Priapus on the art of love 

5. The boast recanted 

105 Grainger 303 

Otway 306 

Elton 310 

. Hodgson 313 

110 Grainger 313 

Hodgson 315 

Hammond 317 

112 Grainger 318 

. Elton 321 

115 Grainger 323 

118 Grainger 326 




;. VERSE. 

6. Love slighted for wealth 

Page 120 

Grainger P. 327 

7. Delia's infidelity .... 

. 121 



8. Messala's birthday . 




9. Marathus and Pholoe . 

. 127 



10. Venal inconstancy . 




11. The excellence of peace 

. 131 




1. The Ambarvalia .... 




2. The hirth-day of Cerinthus . 

. 136 



3. Nemesis gone to the Country 




4. Slavery in love . . . . 

. 139 





5. The Sibylline Books . 

. 141 



6. The cupidity of Nemesis . 




Part of the same 



7, Appeal to Nemesis .... 

. " 147 






1. Dedication ... . ^ . 




2. Forebodings of death 






3, The lover's contempt of wealth 






4. The dream of Tibullus . 







5. Written in sickness 




6. The strife between wine and love 




Part of the same 




1. Panegyric to Messala . 




2. Eulogy of Sulpicia .... 






3. Sulpicia on her lover's going to the chase 








4. On Sulpicia's illness 




5. Sulpicia on her lover's birth-day 




6. To Sulpicia's Juno 

. 165 



7. Sulpicia to Venus, an avowal . 




8. Sulpicia to Messala .... 




9. Sulpicia to Cerinthus 










Sulpicia to Cerinthus 

Page 166 

Grainger P. 390 


Sulpicia to Cerinthus 


Grainger 390 


Sulpicia to Cerinthus . 


Grainger 391 


Tibullus to his mistress 


Grainger 391 
Moore 392 
Hammond 393 


On importunate Rumour 

. 168 

Grainger 394 

15. Epigram by Domitius Marsus, on the death of 
Tibullus .... 

168 Grainger 



A MEAGRE array of facts more or less controverted, and a few critical 
remarks, are all we ca,n offer ^:owards a biography of Valerius Catullus. 
We learn from the testimony of many ancient writers, that he was a na- 
tive of Verona or its immediate neighbourhood ; and the Marquis Scipio 
Maffei, himself a Veronese, asserts that in his day there were still traits 
of the language of Catullus in the dialect of his countrymen. "Whether 
the poet's praenomen was Caius or Quintus is uncertain, the former bemg 
assigned to him by Apuleius, the latter by Pliny. A more important ques- 
tion is that which concerns the da' is of his birth and death. According 
to Hieronymus, in the Eusebian curonicle, he was bom b. o. 87, and died 
in his thirtieth year, b. c. 57. The second date is undoubtedly erroneous, 
for we have positive evidence from his own works that he was alive in the 
consulship of Vatinius, B. c. 47. It is evident too that he must have sur- 
vived at least till b. u. 45, for Cicero, in his Letters, talks of the verses of 
Catullus against Caesar and Mamurra (xxix.) as newly written, and first 
seen by Caesar in that year. The chronologer's mistake as to the time 
of the poet's death, throws some doubt also on that which he assigns to 
his birth. We shall however be exact enough for all literary purposes, if 
we conclude with Dunlop that Catullus " was nearly contemporai-y with 
Lucretius, having come into the world a few years after him, and having 
survived him but a short period." 

It is not certain that the poet belonged to the patrician family of the 
Valerii, but his father must have been a person of some consideration, for 
he was the friend and habitual entertainer of Julius Ctesar. The son took 
up his abode in Rome in the very spring of youth (Ixviii. 15) and plunged 
withoiit restraint into all the expensive pleasures of the best — that is to 
say, the most debauched — society. This is sufficient to account for the 
jocular complaints of poverty interspersed through his writings. It IS 
easy to conceive that one whose only business was to enjoy life in an age 
and in a city of unbounded luxury, and who was a liberal purchaser of 
such commodities as were dealt in by the worthy Silo (ciii.), should have 
been often " hard up " for cash ; and that he should have had occasion for 
frequent intercourse with lawyers and orators, such as Alphenus Varus, 


Lieinius Calvus, and M. Tullius Cicero. Yet his fortune was by no means 
small, for he possessed a noble villa on the beautiful promontory of Sir- 
mio, another near Tibur, and he made a voyage from the Pontus in his 
own yacht. To improve his pecuniary circumstances, he adopted the 
usual Roman expedient for quickly filling a lank purse, and accompanied 
Caius iHemmius, the celebrated patron of Lucretius, to Bilhynia, when 
he was appointed Praetor of that province. But it is plain from his direct 
testimony, as well as from the bitterness of his invectives against his chief, 
that he derived little profit from that expedition. 

Catullus repeatedly deplores with every mark of heartfelt grief the loss 
of a brother who died in the Troad. This event is generally supposed to 
have happened whilst the poet was inBithynia; but, as Professor Ramsay 
has well remarked, "any evidence we possess leads to a different conclu- 
sion. When railing against the evil fortune which attended the journey 
to the East, he makes no allusion to any such misfortune as this ; we 
find no notice of the event in the pieces written immediately before quit- 
ting Asia and immediately after his return to Italy ; nor does the language 
of those passages in which he gives vent to his sorrow, in any way con- 
firm the conjecture." 

Gifted with a fine person, a vigorous constitution, and rare genius, Ca- 
tullus was meant by nature for better things : it was the curse of his times 
that miide him an idler and a voluptuary : 

O blame not the bard if he fly to the bowers 
Where Pleasure sits carelessly smiling at Fame ; 
He was born for much more, and in happier hours 
His soul might have glowed -with a holier flame. 

That he was not indiff'erent to public wrongs is proved by the vehe- 
mence with which he assailed Caesar in the plenitude of his power. A 
man of fine sensibility and delicate fancy, he was no less remarkable 
for the strength and depth of his feelings. Regarded as indications of 
character, his poems to Lesbia are unique in Roman literature for the 
intensity and self-oblivion of the passion they portray. Some of them 
breathe the delicious frenzy of desire ; or the sweet sadness that ever 
mingles with the best of joy, and is so like it that we scarce know 
whether to call it pain or pleasure ; the rest are heavy with the grief for 
which there is no cure, the anguish of a heart that dotes, yet more than 
doubts ; that cannot cease to love what it loathes and scorns. 

Clodia, as we learn from Apuleius, was the real name of Lesbia, " but 
this bare fact " — we again quote Ramsay — " by no means entitles us to 
jump to the conclusion at which many have arrived, that she was the 
sister of the celebrated Clodius slain by Milo. Indeed the presumption 
is strong against such an inference. The tribute of high-flown praise paid 
to Cicero would have been but a bad recommendation to the favour of 
one whom tlie orator makes the subject of scurrilous jests, and who is 
said tO' have cherished against him all the vindictive animosity of a woman 
first slighted, and then openly insulted." Of other women with whom 
he may have amused himself, Catullus names only Hypsifhilla and Aufi- 
lina, ladies of Verona ; but the language in which he writes of them de- 
notes an intercourse in which the senses were vividly interested, the afl'ec- 
tions not at all. Some of his poems are hideous from the traces of a 


turpitude to which we cannot without a painful effort make even a passing 
allusion. But so are portions of almost every Roman poet ; and amidst 
our natural disgust^ at these abominations, and at the filthy ribaldry of 
many of the short pieces of Catullus, it is right to remember that these 
things were the vices of the age rather than of the individual. " The 
filth of Catullus seldom springs from a prurient imagination revellmg ui 
voluptuous images ; it rather proceeds from habitual impurity of expres- 
sion, and probably gives a fair representation of the manners and con- 
versation of the gay society of Rome at that period." 

In the contents of a very small book, Catullus has given proof of ex- 
traordinary versatility, and consummate skill in the most dissimila,r 
moods of his art. His compass is a wide one, and he is master of all 
within it. His peculiar characteristics are neatness, racy simplicity, 
grapeful turns of thought, and exquisite happiness of expression. In 
these qualities he ha|, never been surpassed ; and they are apparent 
alike in his most playful trifles, and when he ascends to the mountain- 
heights of passion and imagination. Of him it may be affirmed with ab- 
solute truth, that he adorned all he touched ; hence the appropriateness 
of the epithet doctus which was bestowed upon him by his poetic brefliren, 
not, as many have supposed, because of his proficiency in Greek liter- 
ature, but because of his mastery in the art he professed. Doctiis does 
not always mean book-learned ; it is often used to signify skill in any art 
^as in that of archery for instance, when Tibullus calls Cupid's hands 
doctas, after they had learned the use of the bow. Doctus means " taught," 
and as one who is well taught is accomplished in his speciality, the epithet 
came naturally to bear that secondary signification. That the English 
epithet " learned " is restricted to one particular kind of proficiency, 
is merely the result of arbitrary custom. The wider import of the Latin 
word is better expressed in such obsolete phrases as " cimning of fence," 
" cunning in music, in mathematics," &c. In this sense Horace applies 
it to the great actor Roscius ; and in this sense it was applied by courtesy 
to poets in general, and distinctively and emphatically to Catullus. 

Horace unjustly assumes to himself (Epist. 19, lib. i.) the credit of 
having been the first to enrich the literature of his country with imi- 
tations of the Greek lyric poets ; Catullus had preceded him in that field, 
and with the more essential advantage which genius possesses over talent. 
" Catullus," says Dunlop, " translated many of the shorter and more 
delicate pieces of the Greeks ; an attempt which hitherto had been thought 
impossible, though the broad humour of their comedies, the vehement 
pathos of their tragedies, and the romantic interest of the Odyssey, had 
stood the transformation. His stay m Bithynia, though little advantageous 
to his fortune, rendered him better acquainted than he might otherwise 
have been with the productions of Greece ; and he was therefore in a 
great degree indebted to this expedition (on which he always appears to 
have looked back with mortification and disappointment) for those felici- 
tous turns of expression, that grace, simplicity, and purity, which are the 
characteristics of his poems, and of whioh hitherto Greece alone had af- . 
forded models. Indeed in all his verses, whether elegiac or heroic, we 
perceive his imitation of the Greeks, and it must be admitted that he has 
drawii from them his choicest stores. His Hellenisms are frequent ; his 
images, similes, metaphors, and addresses to himself, are all Greek ; and 

£ 2 


even in the versification of his odes we see visible traces of their origin. 
Nevertheless he was the inventor of a new species of Latin poetry ; and 
as he was the first who used such variety of measures, and perhaps in- 
vented some that were new, he was amply entitled to call the poetical 
volume which he presented to Cornelius Nepos Lepidum Novum Libellum. 
The beautiful expressions, too, and idioms of the Greek language, which 
he has so carefully selected, are woven with such art into the texture of 
his composition, and so aptly figure the impassioned ideas of his amorous 
muse, that they have all the ftesh and tmtamished hues of originality." 
It is certain that some, and probable that many, of the poems of Catul- 
lus have perished. Pliny makes mention of verses upon love-charms of 
which no trace remains, and Terentianus Maurus mentions some Tthy- 
phallica. The scholiasts Servius and Nonius refer to passages which are 
not to be found in the existing collection of the works of Catullus. On 
the other hand, the Ciris and the Pervigilium Veneris have been errone- 
ously ascribed to him. We should have lost him whoUy but for the for- 
tuitous discovery of a single manuscript in bad condition, which was found 
in France in the year 1425. From this source were derived all the MSS. 
on which the old editions were founded, and hence, as might be expected, 
the text is very corrupt, and presents a greater number of various and 
contradictory readings than ■ that of almost any other classic. It is cer- 
tain too that it has been repeatedly interpolated. 

The present prose translation of Catullus, the first, we believe, that has 
appeared in English, has been framed upon the principle of adhering as 
closely to the letter of the original as is consistent with the genius of the 
respective languages. For a faithful rendering of the letter, prose is the . 
best medium ; but there its powers end ; for all beyond we must have 
recourse to verse. The poetical versions that follow have been carefully 
selected from many writers, and comprise all the best specimens of their 
kind that have yet been published. 


Albius Tibullus (his prsenomen is \mknown) was a Roman knight, 
contemporary with Horace and Virgil. The date of his birth is uncertain, 
but must be placed somewhere about b. c. 59, the year in which Livy 
came into the world. A spurious distich in the fifth Elegy of book iii. 
was long accepted as proof that Tibullus was born in the same year as 
Ovid, who, on the contrary, invariably speaks of him as a more ancient 
writer and an older man than liimself, and particularly in a passage of the 
Tristia, (IV. x.,) in which he fixes the order of succession of the Elegiac 
poets ; — ■ 

Virgil I but beheld ; and greedy fate 

Denied Tibullus' friendship, wish'd too late : 

He followed Gallus, next Propertius came ; 

The last was I, the fourth successive name. Elton. 


It appears from an epigram of Doraitius Marsus, another contemporary 
of TibuUus, that he died soon after Virgil, that is to say, in or about b. c. 
19, while he was yet in the prime of life, or, as the epigram says, while he 
was still jmienis, for by that term the Komans meant one who had not 
passed his forty-sixth year. 

Te quoque, Virgilio comitem, non aequa, Tibulle, 

Mors juvenem campos misit ad Elysios : 
Ne foret, aut elegis moUes qui fleret amores, 
Aut caneret forti regia bella pede. 

Thee, young TibuUus, to th' Elysian plain 

Death bade accompany great Maro's shade ; 
Dtetermined that no poet should remain, 

Or to sing wars, or weep the cruel maid. Grainger. 
' TibuUns was descended from an ancient and wealthy equestrian family ; 
but we learn from himself that he possessed only a small portion of the 
estates of his forefathers. The cause of this decline of fortune has been 
warmly debated among the learned ; some alleging, rightly, as it seems to 
us, that we need not look further for it than to the confiscations of the tri- 
umviri, in which so many Italian estates were involved ; others, that he was 
mined by his own extravagance. The father of TibuUus had been en- 
gaged on the side of Porapey in the civil wars, and died soon after Cfesar 
had finally triumphed over the liberties of Rome. It is not to be doubted 
that the patrimony of the son should have been involved in the subsequent 
partition of the lands of Italy ; and though he saved something from the 
wreck, probably through the interest of his patron, Messala, we do not 
find in his Elegies a single expression of gratitude or compliment from 
which it might be conjectured that Augustus had atoned to him for the 
wrongs done by Octavius. It is certainly remarkable, in reference to this 
question, and it raises our respect for the man, that the name of Augustus, 
celebrated with such persevering and fulsome adulation by the other great 
poets of the day, is nowhere to be found in the writings of TibuUus. The 
notion that he wasted his large fortune in dissipation is little more than a 
gratuitous assumption, the only evidence offered in support of it being a 
poetical hyperbole. In the fourth Elegy of the second book he declares 
himself ready to sacrifice all tliat was left of his hereditary possessions to 
gratify the demands of his covetous mistress : whence some would have 
us infer, that the man who could deliberately talk thus, in a good hex- 
ameter and pentameter distich, must certainly have made ducks and drakes 
of his property. We rather think that the general tenour of his writings, 
as weU as the direct testimony of his friend Horace, leads to the opposite 
conclusion. That discreet Epicure,an would not have complimented a 
reckless spendthrift on his knowledge of the art of enjoyment. 

TibuUus acquired at an early period the friendship of his great patron, 
Messala, and retained it to the end of his life. He declined that com- 
mander's invitation to accompany him in the naval war which was des- 
tined to close with the decisive battle of Actiura, doubtless because he 
remained stedfast in his attachment to the cause for which his father had 
suffered. Immediately after that victory, Messala was detached by Cffisar 
to suppress a formidable insurrection which had broken out in Aquitaine ; 
and TibuUus accompanied him in the honourable post of contubernalis. 


corresponding nearly to that of aid-de-camp. Part of the glory of the 
Aquitaniau campaign, for which Messala, four years later, obtained a tri- 
umph, and which Tibullus celebrates in language of unwonted loftiness, 
redounds, according to the poot, to his own fame (book I. vii. 9 — 11). 
In the following year, (b. c. 30,) Messala was sent to Asia, and again 
Tibullus went with him, butwas taken ill and obliged to remain in Cor- 
cyra, an incident which forms the theme of another beautiful poem 
(book I. iii.). 

After his recovery he seems to hare returned home, and to have spent 
the rest of his days, excepting occasional visits to the capital, at his coun- 
try seat near Pedum, a small town of Latium on the skirts of the Apen- 
nines, between Praeneste and Tibur. That he lived therein the enjoy- 
ment of a liberal competence is clear enough, and also that when he speaks 
of his poverty, that term is only to be understood by contrast with the 
overgrown fortunes of many of his noble covmtrymen. This is apparent 
from many of his own expressions (e. g. book I. i. 5) ; as a Roman knight 
he must have been worth upwards of three thousand pounds ; and Horace 
even speaks of him as wealthy. According to him, Tibullus possessed all 
the blessings of life : he was beautiful in person (Horace ou this point 
confirms the strong language of the old biographers) ; he had a competent 
fortune, favour with the gi-eat, fame, health ; and knew how to enjoy all 
those blessings. Epist. iv. book i. 

Albius ! the candid critic of m3' strains, 

What shall I say thou dost on Pedum's plains ? 

Say, dost thou verses write that shall outvie 

Cassius of Parma's darling poesy ? 

Dost thou steal silent through some healthful wood. 

And muse thoughts worthy of the wise and good ? 

Thou wert not born a body void of mind ; 

Yet heaven to thee a graceful form assigned. 

Heaven gave thee riches, and it gave thee more. 

The art to use and to enjoy thy store. 

What beyond this could some fond nurse devise 

To bless her foster-son ? whose thoughts are wise. 

And graced with fluent speech ; whom favours crown 

From the high great, and, from his muse, reno-\vn ; 

Abundant health ; a style of life and board 

Genteel with decency, and purse well stored. Elton. 

Notwithstanding all liis personal and mental graces, and his singularly ' 
amiable disposition, Tibullus was not happy in love. The object of that 
attachment, which we have Ovid's authority for considering as his first, is 
celebrated Under the poetic name of Delia, a Greek equivalent for her real 
name, which Apuleius tells us was Plania. It is evident (see book I. vi.) 
that she was not of gentle blood (not ingenna, but libertince conditionis). 
She belonged, says Milman, " to that class of females of the middle orderj 
not of good family, but above poverty, which answered to the Greek 
hetairai." Tibullus became attached to her before his expedition to 
Aquitaine, and tliought of retiring to the country with her as his mistress. 
But Delia was faithless during his absence. On his return from Corcyrai 
he found her ill, and attended her with affectionate solicitude, agaia hoping 


to realize his favourite project. But first a richer rival supplanted him ; 
next there appears a husband in the way ; and after the seventh Elegy of 
tlie first book we hear no more of Delia. His last love was the mercen- 
ary Nemesis, to whom the second book and the last two years of the 
poet's life were devoted, apparently without any return. The third book 
— if this indeed is the composition of TibuUus — is chiefly occupied with 
his unfortunate passion for Neaera. Her, it would appear, he wished to 
marry, he had indeed been actually betrothed to her, but she forsook 
him on the eve of the nuptials. Lastly, there was Glycera, who gave him 
great pain by forsaking him for a younger man, and whom we have no 
reason for confounding with any of the other three, though she is not 
known to us from his own writings, but only from the Ode in wliich 
Horace attempts to console him for her inconstancy. 

TibuUus belongs eminently to that class of poets whose works reflect 
the form and colour of their OAvn history. His lot fell upon the evil days 
of his country, in which the remnant of its virtues perished with its rights. 
A long series of civil wars and proscriptions had produced that general - 
dissoluteness of manners which invariably attends uncertainty of life and 
property ; Eastern conquests had filled Rome with the accumulated wealth, 
and polluted her with the vices, of enslaved nations. Had her freedom 
survived, the old Roman spirit might" yet have rallied ; but the one died 
out when the other was crushed under the despotism of Augustus. The 
empire grew in might and majesty ; but its men and women became daily 
viler; and tlie refinement gained by imitation of foreign examples, though 
in itself a good thing, was a poor exchange. for the honour and honesty of 
the rough old republican days ; for the racy freshness of home-grown 
habits, thoughts, feelings', and affections ; for every native grace of life, 
lost for ever. Imagine a man like TibuUus cast upon such times as those, 
— a man of instinctive elegance of mind, of extreme sensibility and warm 
affections, more given to contemplation than to action, — and you may go 
near to anticipate much of the general tone of those effusions in which 
liis inward nature spontaneously reveals itself. Add to this, that he was 
unhappy in love — how could he have been otherwise ? — less prosperous in 
fortune than in early youth he had reason to expect, a member of a de- 
feated party, and faithful to the memory of a ruined cause ; and we shall 
more clearly discern the sources of that tender melancholy which is his 
habitual mood, and of those changeful and often impulsive emotions that 
break its even flow, but always subside mto it and leave it as before. Ill 
at ease among the realities of the life that surrounded him, he flew to na- 
ture, the perpetual nurse of wounded spirits, and animating his solitude 
with the traditions of the past, he lived in an ideal world. A relish for 
the delights of the country was a national characteristic of the Romans ; 
in him it had the force of a passion. Hence all those exquisite pictures 
of rural scenes and habits, which so strongly impress us witlx the idea of 
the poet's kindly nature. 

The Latin elegy, like the Greek epigram or inscription, had a latitude 
beyond its title. Practically the name implies nothing more definite than 
a poem not exceeding a certain length, and ■written in alternate hexa- 
meter and pentameter lines. Of that species wliich turns on love, Tibul- 
lus is confessedly the master. He is also the most origintil Latin poet of 
the Augustan age, by which we do not mean that he is distinguished for 


extraordinary powers of invention, but that he owed nothing to Greek 
models. His subjects, method, diction, and tone, are all his own. His 
thoughts are natural ; he abounds with delicate strokes of sentiment and 
expression ; his language is pure from conceit, and his style, though highly 
finished, has a perfectly easy and flowing simplicity. His range, however, 
as may be supposed from what we have already said, is not a wide one ; 
and it must be admitted that he recurs to one set of themes and imagery 
with something of a monotonous frequency. But this defect belongs only 
to Jiis elegies taken collectively. Separately considered, each piece is re- 
markable for the copious variety of its thoughts and images, as well as for 
the subtlety of the links by which it is made to cohere in the smoothest 
and most unconstrained manner. 

The poems which bear the name of Tibullus are comprised in four books. 
The authenticity of the first two has never been questioned ; but a con- 
troversy was raised by I. H. Voss, towards the close of the last century, 
respecting the authorship of the third book, which is addressed to Neaera, 
nominally by one Lygdamus. Who was he ? According to the common 
opinion, he was either a fictitious personage, or, much more probably, Ti- 
bullus himself imder an assumed name. Voss however contended that 
Lygdamus, or whoever wrote under that name, was not Tibullus, but an- 
other and very inferior poet. This opinion found some adherents in Ger- 
many ; but Milman, so far as we are aware, is the only scholar of note by 
whom it has been adopted in this country.' Bach, who at one time in- 
clined to the Vossian theory, has pronounced what we think a sounder 
critical opinion in his edition of 1819. He says it appears that Tibullus 
addressed the book in question to Nesera when he was very young, and 
that this circumstance sufficiently explains the faults here and there ob- 
servable in a work which bears strong marks of resemblance to the manner 
of Tibullus, and is on the whole not unworthy of his genius. As for the 
fourth book, we see no reason to dissent from the judgment prououncedi' 
upon it by Milman, in common with many of the best critics. " The hex- 
ameter poem on Messala," he says, " which opens the fourth book, is so 
bad, that although a successful Elegiac poet may have failed when he at- 
tempted Epic verse, it caimot well be ascribed to a writer of the exquisite 
taste of Tibullus. The smaller Elegies of the fourth book have all the 
inimitable grace and simplicity of Tibullus. With the exception of the 
thirteenth, (of which some Imes are hardly surpassed by Tibullus himself,) 
these poems relate to the love of Sulpicia, a woman of noble birthj for 
Cerinthus, the real or fictitious name of a beautiful youth. Sulpicia 
seems to have belonged to the intimate society of Messala (El. iv. 8). 
Nor is there any improbability in supposing that Tibullus may have writ- 
ten Elegies in the name or by the desire of Sulpicia. If Sulpicia was her- 
self the poetess, she approached nearer to Tibullus than any other writer 
of Elegies." 

1 Smith's Diet, of Greet and Rom. Biog. art. Tibullus. 




To whom do I give this sprightly little book, new, and 
just polished with dry pumice ? V To you, Cornelius ; ^ for you 
were wont to think my trifles of some account, and that even 
at the time when you alone among Italian scholars dared to 
expound the history of every age in three treatises, Jupiter ! 
how erudite and elaborate ! Accept therefore this little book, 
such as it is ; and, O protecting Virgin,' may it endure for 
many a century. 

Spaeeovp", delight of my girl, which she plays with, which 

' Dry pumice..'] The Romans wrote on parchment, and used pumice 
stone, as the modems do, to smooth the face of the sheet that it might 
the better receive the ink. When the -writing was finished they smoothed 
the outside' of the sheet also ; hence any highly finished composition was 
said figuratively to be pumice expolitum. 

' Cornelius.'] That this was Cornelius Nepos, the historian, is suffici- 
ently established by a poem of Ausonius. 

' Protecting Virgin.] Minerva, the patroness of literature. Several 
editions read patrima Virgo, an allusion to the birth of the goddess from 
the brain of Jove without a mother. But probably the whole passage 
ja spurious, as Handius argues; nor is it likely that Catullus would 
^ve .invoked the austere Minerva's patronage for his light and sportive 
effusions, though she might not have disdained a few of his poems, such 
as-the " Nuptials of Peleus and Thetis." 

< Ta LeiMa's Slparrow.] The learned Politian, Lampridias, Turnebus, 
and Voss-ius will have it, that Lesbia's sparrow is an indecent allegory, 
.typifying i.he same thing as the " grey duck " in Pope's imitation of 
Chaucer. Folitian has been smartly castigated for this by Sannazarius, 


she keeps in her bosom, to whose eager beak she offers the tip 
of her finger, and provokes its sharp peckings, when my bright- 
ly fair darling has a mind to indulge in some little endearing 
sport, as a solace, I believe, for the grief of absence, that the 
painful smarting of her bosom may be still : to be able to 
play with thee, as she does, and allay my grief and anxiety of 
mind, were as welcome to me, as they say was to the swift- 
footed girl' that golden apple, which loosed her long-bound 

in some wit^y lines, which end with something to the effect that the critic 
would like to devour the bird : 

Meus hie Pulicianus 
Tam bellum sibi passerera CatuUi 
Intra viscera habere concupiscit. 
" I agree with Sannazarius," says Noel. "Take this piece in its natural 
and obvious sense, and it is a model of grace and good taste : adopt the 
licentious allegory, and nothing can be more forced and frigid." Martial, 
the professed imitator of Catullus, and for that very reason to be dis- 
trusted as his interpreter, set the first example of this perverse refinement 
on the simple meaning of the poem. " Kiss me," he says, " and then 
Donabo tibi passerem CatuUi, I will give you CatuUus's sparrow," — by 
which he does not mean a poem. Again, in the Apophoreta there is the 
following passage about putting a bird in a cage. 

Si tibi talis erit, qualem dilecta Catullo 
Lesbia ploravit, hie habitare potest. 
" If you have such a sparrow as CatuUus's Lesbia deplored, it may lodge 
here." Chaulieu has an epigram, to the same purport : 
Autant et plus que sa vie 
Phyllis aime un passereau ; 
Ainsi la jeune Lesbie 
Jadis aima son, moineau. 
" Mais de celui de Catulle 
Se laissant aussi charmer, 
Dans sa cage, sans scrupule, 
EUe eut soin de 1' enfermer. 
• The swift-footed girl."] Atalanta would accept no one as a husband 
who could not excel her in the race. After baffling many suitors by her 
extraordinary speed, she was won by Hippomenes by means of a strata- 
gem suggested by Venus. The goddess gave him three golden apples, 
which he threw down before Atalanta at critical moments in the race ; 
she stopped to pick them up, and was beaten. 

' Loosed her zone.'] Virgins wove a girdle which was unbound by the 
1 bridegroom's own hands on the wedding night. The custom was common 
both to Greece and Italy, and, in the language of both, the phrase to undo 
the zone, was currently used to signify the loss of virginity. In Greece 
the same significance was attached to the " mitra," the band, or " snood,", 
as the Scotch call il, with which maidens bound up theic 'hair ; and in 



Lament, O Loves and Desires, and every man of refine- 
ment ! My girl's sparrow is dead, my girl's pet sparrow, 
which she loved more than her own eyes ; for it was a honeyed 
darling, and knew its mistress as well as my girl herself 
knew her mother ; nor did it ever depart from her breast, 
but hopping about now hither, now thither, would chirp ever 
more to its mistress only. Now does it go along the gloomy 
path to that region whence no one can return. Malediction 
to you ! cruel glooms of Orcus, that devour all fair things ; 
such a pretty sparrow you have taken from me. Unhappy 
event ! poor little sparrow ! On your account my girl's eyes 
are now red and swollen with weeping. 


That pinnace you see, my friends, avers that it was once 
the swiftest of vessels, and never failed to outstrip the speed 
of any craft that swam, whether the course was to be run 
with oars or canvass. And this, it says, the coast' of the 
threatening Adriatic, and the Cyclades * deny not, nor noble 
Rhodes, nor rugged Thrace,* Propontis,^ nor the angry 
Pontic Gulf;' where that pinnace, as it afterwards became, 
was formerly a leafy wood ; for often hath it uttered a rust- 
ling sound with its vocal foliage on the Cytorian range. 

Scotland formerly, the lassie who had lost her snood without permission 
of the kirk, was in danger of the cutty stool. 

• The Death of the Sparrow.'] This exquisite little poem was in high ' 
repute among the ancients. Juvenal alludes to it in his sixth Satire, and 
Martial in several places. It has been imitated, but far from equalled, 
by Ovid, in his elegy on the death of a parrot, and by Stella, Martial's 
contemporary, in a lost poem on a dove. Noel, the French translator 
of Catullus, has enumerated fifteen modern Latin imitations. 

' The Praise of the Pinnace.] Catullus appears to have written this 
poem on the occasion of his return from Bithynia. It contains a geo- 
graphical summary of his voyage in inverted order. 

^ Coast.] There is a peculiar propriety in this word; because the 
ancient navigators usually coasted along and seldom ventured on the 
open sea. 

* Cyclades.] A round cluster of islands in the Archipelago. 
' Thrace.] Now called Romania or Eoumelia. 

° Propontis.] Sea of Marmora. 

' Pontic Bay,] The Euxine, now the Black Sea. 


To you also, Pontic Amastris,' and box-clad Cytoru**ffi* 
pinnace says that these facts were well known, — says thall]||M 
its earliest origin it stood upon your summit, that it "firs| 
dipped its oars in your waters, and bore its master tteno^ 
through so many raging seas, whether the wind piped from 
larboard or from starboard, or whether favouring Jove^ fell 
on both sheets ■* together ; and that it made no vows under 
distress to the gods of the coast, when it came from the ex- 
tremity of the sea and reached this limpid lake.® 

But these things belong to the past ; it is now growing old 
in secluded repose, and dedicates itself to thee. Castor, and to 
thy twin brother.^ 


Let us live and love, my Lesbia, and a farthing for all the 
talk of morose old sages ! Suns may set and rise again ; but 
we, when once pur brief light has set, must sleep through a 
perpetual night. Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred, 
then another thousand, then a second hundred, then still' 
another' thousand, then a hundred. Then when we shall have 
made up many thousands, we will confuse the reckoning, so 
that we ourselves may not know their amount, nor any spite- 

' Amastris.] A town near Cytorus, now called Famastro. 

' Cytorus,^ A mountain in Paphlagonia in Asia Minor. Evelyn calls 
Box-hill in Surrey, " The Cytorus of England." 

' Favouring Jove.] The god of the air, put by synecdoche for the 

* Both sheets.] Utrumque pedem. The lower corners of the sail, and 
the ropes by which they were made fast, were called pedes. " Sheets " 
is the corresponding technical term in English. 

' This limpid lake.] Lake Benacus, now the Lago di Garda. 

' Dedicates itself, &c.] This little poem, which was probably sus- 
pended as an exvoto in the temple of Castor and Pollux, has compara- 
tively slight interest for modern readers, yet it has been the theme of 
countless imitations and parodies, the earliest of which is extant in the 
Catalecta Virgilii. It is a squib upon the famous Ventidius, who began 
life as n. muleteer, and afterwards rose to be praetor and consul. The 
modern parodies are very numerous. A collection of ten, edited with 
notes by Sextus Octavianus, was published at York in 1579. The most 
notable of them is one by Julius Csesar Scaliger; it is a fine sample of 
the mutual amenity of the learned of the sixteenth century. The subject 
of the lampoon is Doletus, who is shown up as a pimp, a thief, an 
assassin, and a drunkard, &c. 

' Still (mother, &o.] Usque : without intermission ; in a breath. 


ful person have it in his power to envy us • when he knows 
that our kisses were so many. 


Flavius, you would freely tell Catullus of your charmer, 
nor could you keep silence on that subject, were it not that 
she has neither sprightliness nor grace. Surely you love 
some hot-blooded jade or another, and you are ashamed to 
confess it. Your couch, scented with garlands and Syrian 
oil, is by no means silent, but tells a clamorous tale.; so too 
does the cushion equally indented in this place and in that, 
and the creaking and stamping of the quivering bed; for 
unless you can hush up these evidences, silence is of no avail. 
Who is there to whom your lank, enfeebled flanks do not 
reveal what follies you commit by night ? Tell me therefore 
what you have got, whether fair or foul ; I wish to cry up 
you and your beloved to the skies in gay verse. 


You ask how many kisses of yours, Lesbia, may be enough 
for me, and more ? As the numerous sands that lie on the spicy 
shores^ of Gyrene, between the oracle of sultry Jove^ and the 
sacred tomb of old Battus ; * or as the many stars that in the 
silence of night behold men's furtive amours ;^ to kiss you with 
so many kisses is enough and more for madly fond Catullus ; 

^ Envy VS.1 Invidere ; i. e. to hurt us by his envy ; for Roman super- 
stition recognised an occult and mischievous potency in the very senti- 
ment of envy. See the last note on Poem vii. 

' Spicy shores.'] Literally, productive of Laserpitium. This Laser- 
pitium appears to have been a gum-resin, but what was its precise nature 
is unknown to the moderns. In an old translation of three plays of 
Plautus, a note on the words of Sirpe and Laserpitium says : " This 
Sirpe is a species of Benjamin, from whence sprung an odoriferous 
liquor, called Laserpitium, quasi Lac Serpitium." 

' The Oracle, &o.] The oracle of Jupiter Ammon on the confines of 
Egypt. The epithet isstuosi, here translated sultry, is literally surging, 
and applies to the heaps of burning sand, like waves, amidst which stood 
the oases of Jupiter Ammon. 

' Old Battus.'] Battus was the royal founder of the city of Cyrene in 
Libya. His tomb was four hundred miles from Ammon's temple. 

^ As the many stars, &c.] Thus imitated by Ariosto, canto 14, 
E per quanti occhi il ciel le furtive opre 
Degli amatori a' mezza notte scopre. 


such a multitude as prying goBsips can neither count, nor be- 
witch ' with their evil tongues. 


Weetched Catullus, cease your folly, and look upon that 
as lost which you see has perished. Fair days shone once for 
you, when you bent your constant steps whither that girl drew 
them, who was loved by us as none ever will be loved. There 
all these merry things were done which you desired, and to 
which she was nothing loth. Fair days indeed shone for 
you then. Now she is not willing, be you too self-possessed,, 
and follow not one who shuns you, nor lead a miserable life, 
but bear all with obstinacy, be obdurate. Farewell, girl; 
Catullus is now obdurate : he will neither seek you more, nor 
solicit your unwilling favours. But you will grieve, false one, 
when you shall not be entreated for a single night. What 
manner of life now remains for you ? Who will visit you ? 
Who will think you charming ? Whom will you love now ? 
Whose will you be called ? Whom wiU you kiss ? Whose 
lips wiU you bite P'' But you, Catullus, be stubbornly obdurate. 


Verannius, foremost in my eyes of all my friends, had I 
three hundred thousand of them, are you come' home to your 
household gods, to your affectionate brothers, and your aged 

' Bewitch-I The Eomans thought it unlucky to let the exact count 
of any of their possessions be known. So far did they carry this super- 
stition, that when they stored their wine, they would never write " one" 
on the.first jar, but " many " as being an indefinite numbefT The French 
have an old adage which seems' to arise from the same source. " Brebis 
comptce, le loup la mange : " Codnt your sheep and the wolf will eat them. 
' Whose lips will you bite ?] Plautus speaks of Teneris labellis molles 
morsiunculse. Thus too Horace : 

Sive puer furcns 
Impressit memorem dente labris notam. 
Or on thy lips the fierce fond boy 
Marks with his teeth the furious joy. Francis. 
Plutarch tells us that Flora, the mistress of Cn. Pompey, used to say in 
commendation of her lover, that she could never quit his arms -without 
giving him a bite. 

' Verannius.'] He had folio-wed Cneius Calpurnius Piso into Spain, 
whither he went as aueslor with pretorian power. See Poem xxv. 


mother? Are you come? O happy news for me ! I shall 
,see you safe and well, and hear you tell of the regions, acts, 
and tribes of the Iberians, as your custom is ; and, rfeck to 
neck, I shall kiss your pleasant mouth' and eyes. O all ye 
;happy men, what gladness or happiness exceeds mine ? 


Varus ^ took me to see his mistress, as I was returning 
leisurely from the Forum : a wench, as it struck me at a 
glance, by no means deficient in sprightliness or beauty. 
When we came in, various subjects of conversation occurred 
to us : among them, what sort of a country was Bithynia,^ 
what was the state of things there, and how much money had 
I made in it. I answered as was the fact, that neither my- 
self, nor the prsbtors, nor their followers had made wherewith 
any one of us should show a better scented head^ on his return, 
especially as we had a blackguard proetor, who did not care a 
rush for his followers. " But surely," said she, "you at least 
got bearers for your litter, for the custom is said to have, 
originated there." ■* " Nay," said I, that I might pass myself 
off to the girl as one of the prosperous, " it did not go so 
hardly with me, bad as I found the province, that I could 
not procure eight straight-backed fellows."" But not one had 
I either here or there who could lay the broken leg of my old 
truckle-bed on his neck. Thereupon, as became a wanton, 
she said, " Lend me those fellows for a little, I entreat you, 
my Catullus, for I want to be carried, to the temple of Sera- 

' Varus.] Probatly Alphenus Varus, for whom see Poem xxvii. 

° Bithynia.'\ Catullus held some office under C. Memmius Gemellus, 
the provincial praetor of Bithynia. 

' Show a better scented head.'] A common metaphor for becoming rich. 

* Originated there.] We have followed, but with some misgiving, 
the common interpretation, which is based -upon the questionable asser- 
tion that the litter or palanquin was first introduced at Rome from 
Bithynia. But Handius maintains the true reading to be : 
quod illio 
Natum dioitur, a;re comparasti, 
that is to say, " But surely — for money (metal) is said to grow there — 
5^V bought, &c." Bithynia was a sort of Australia in old times, as 
"■PP'^^rs from many passages in classical writers, as well as from the 
namSp gf gQ,jjg ^f j^g cities, such as Chrysopolis, Chalcedon, &c. 


pis." ' " Stop," said I to the girl ; " what I just said I had, 
— I made a mistake — Cinna is my comrade — Caius Cinna — 
he bought them. But whether his or mine, what matters it 
to me ? I use them as freely as though I had bought them. 
But you are plaguily absurd and vexatious, who wiU not 
allow one to be careless." 


FuRius and Aureliua, comrades of Catullus, whether he 
shall make his way among the farthest Indians, where the 
shore is beaten by the far-resounding eastern wave ; or among 
the Hyrcani, ajid_Jhe_sa£t_ArabSj_or the Sac» and the ^r- 
thian archers/orwhere the seven-niduthed Nile colours the 
sea ; or whether he shall march across the lofty Alps, visiting 
the monuments of the great Csesar, the GjUjc Ehine and- the 
horrible>nd'l^emotesrBrit«ma|"you'wtr5~are ready to venture 
with him upon all enterprises whatever, which the will of 
the gods shaJl'impose, bear these few unwelcome .words to my i 
girl: let her live and "be happy with her paramours, three 
' hundred of whom she embraces, lovingjnot one'ofiih^a- truly, 
but-wearing theni. all jiut-alike-C^EetTher not regard my love * 
as before, a love which has fallen like a flower on the verge 
of the meadow, after it has been touched by the passing 

' Sempis.'] The temple of this Egyptian deity stood in the suburts in 
CatuUus'9 time. It was a favourite resort of loose women. 

' Furius and Aurelius.] This Furius is supposed to have been F. Bi- 
baculus, whom Quintilian ranks high among the Iambic poets ; and Aure- 
lius may have been L. Aurelius Cotta, the Praetor. Catullus soon quarrelled 
with these dear friends, as we shall see presently. 

' Wearing them all out alike.] Ilia rumpens. More exactly rendered 
by Biacca : 

E sol di tutti 
Tenta 1' iniqua ad isnervar i fianchi. 
Guarini, saj[s of a coquette, that she likes to do with lovers as •with gowns, 
have plenty oT"th^m, use one after another, and change them often. 

■* Regard my love.\ Noel discerns a peculiar grace in the word respeote*, 
which seems to portray the coquette looking back to see if she i^ 
followed by the lover she affects to shun. 

' Like a flower, &c.] Very like this is a passage in Virgil, whicki 
been imitated by Ariosto ; 

Purpureus veluti cum flos, succisus aratro 
Languescit raoriens . . . 



Marrucinus Asinius,' you use your left hand^ in no credit- 
able manner in hours of mirth and wine. You filch the 
napkins of those who are at aU heedless. Do you think this 
witty ? You do not perceive, siUy fellow, how low and un- 
becoming a thing it is. You do not believe me ? Believe 
your brother PolUo,' who would be glad if your thefts could 
be got rid of even at the cost of a talent : for he is a youth ac- 
complished in pleasantries.* Wherefore expect either three 
hundred lampoons, or send me back my napkin, which I 
regard not for its intrinsic value, but as a souvenir of my 
comrade. For FabuUus and Verannius sent me napkins as 
a present from Iberian Setabis,^ which of course I must prize 
as I do my Verannius and FabuUus. 

^ Come purpureo fior languendo more 

Che '1 vomere al passar tagliato lassa. 
Noel's remarks on this poem are ingenious. Catullus, he says, appears 
by no means cured of his passion, though he talks so boldly. He is 
jealous and piqued : he vents his resentment in no gentle terms, but dares 
not address his faithless mistress directly. He imposes that painful task 
on his friends, and implies that in so doing he puts their friendship to as 
severe a test as though he asked them to accompany him upon one of 
those formidable journeys he has enumerated. This explanation justifies the 
geographical exordium, which would otherwise seem cold and out of place. 

' Marrucintts AsiniusJ] Whether Marrucinus is a name or an epithet, 
and if the latter, what is to be understood by it, are questions much dis- 
-puted. The Marrucini were a people of Campania, situate between the 
Vestini and the Peligini : their chief town was Teate, now Chieti. They 
were distinguished for their fidelity to the Romans ; therefore Vulpius 
and Doering suppose the epithet Marrucinian is meant to reproach 
Asinius with his degeneracy from the high character of his countrymen. 
Scaliger says, the Marrucini stood in equal repute with Boeotians for 
stupidity, and accuses Avantius of proposing to read " Inter ccenam," in- 
stead of " Marrucine," merely because he was himself a Marrucinian by 
birth, and wished to destroy the record of the hebetude of his countrymen. 
Many conceive that Asinius is merely styled of the cbuntry he belonged to, 
without any, reproach implied. Lastly, Marrucinus may be a proper name. 

' Left hand.] Thievish hand is implied. 

' PoUio.] Supposed to be Asinius PoUio, the poet, orator, and states- 
man, the friend of Horace and Virgil, who played so important a part 
under the reign of Augustus. 

♦ Pleasantries.'] Facetiarum : the word has a larger meanmg than its 
English derivative " facetiousness." Facetus comes from facere, and 
signifies, as Noel well says, " un homme qui a 1' heureux don de 1' apropos 
dans tout ce qu'il dit et tout ce qu'il fait." 

= Setaiis.'] A city of Spain, on the river Tarracon. 




You will sup well at my house in a few days, my FabuUus, 
if the gods favour you, provided you bring with you a good 
and copious supper, not forgetting a fair girl, and wine, and 
wit, and all manner of laughter. These things I say if you 
bring with you, my bonny man, you shall sup well ; for the 
purse of your Catullus is full of cobwebs. But in return you 
shall have what you may call a very love,' or if there be any- 
thing else sweeter or more elegant, you may call it by that 
name. For I will give you an unguent^ which the Loves 
and Desires bestowed on my girl; and when you smell it, 
you will beseech the gods, FabuUus, to make you all nose. 


Did I not love you more than my eyes, most pleasant; 
Calvus, I should hate you with Vatinian hatred* for that pre*i 
sent of yours. For what have I done, or what have I said, 
that you should cruelly plague me with so many poets? May 
the gods heap many evils on that client who sent you such a 
lot of villains. But if, as I suspect, Sulla, the commentator,.' 

' A very love-l Accipies mens amores. Doering and others take ' 
-this to mean : You shall have whatever I can offer in token of the love 
I bear you, in other words, a hearty welcome. Achilles Statius ex- 
plains the phrase as a promise that nothmg shall be talked of at the 
supper but love, either love in general, or " my love," i. e. CatuUus's, if 
the reading be meos amores ; and' he quotes several passages in point, 
e. g. Vineta crepat mera, Hor., " He prates of nothing but vineyards." 
.Our interpretation is supported by the authority of Muretus. 

^ An unguent.^ Both Greeks and Romans used perfumes and chaplets 
of flowers at their entertainments. " Longepierre, to give an idea of the 
luxurious estimation in which garlands were held by the ancients, relates 
an anecdote of a courtesan, who in order to gratify three lovers without 
leaving cause of jealousy with any of them, gave a kiss to one, let the 
other drink after her, and put a garland on the brow of llie third ; so 
that each was satisfied with his favour and flattered himself with the pre- " 
ference." — Moore, Anacr. Ixx. 

' Calvus.] Cornelius Licinius Calvus, a celebrated lawyer, orator, and 
poet. See Poems 1. liii. >• 

■• Vatinian hatred.] Calvus had prosecuted Vatinius for bribery, and 
the man's general character for malignity made Vatinian hate proverbial. 
See/Poem 1. 


has given you this new and choice present, I am not vexed, but 
delighted that your labours were not spent in vain.' Great 
gods, what a horrible and accursed book ! . And this forsooth 
you have sent to your Catullus, that }ie might be bored to 
death all day long in the Saturnalia,'^ the best of our festivals. 
No, no, wag, this shall not pass with you so ; for as soon as 
it dawns I will run to the booksellers' stalls ; I will coUecJ; 
your Caesii, your Aquinii, Suffenus, and all sorts of poisonous 
trash, and pay you back with these torments. 

Fare you well, meanwhile, hence with you, begone to 
whence you came in evil hour, pests of the age, you execrable 


I COMMEND myself and my love to you, Aurelius, with this 
modest request ; if ever your heart was set upon an object 
and longed to find it chaste and unsullied, watch over the 
chastity of this ward I commit to your care, and keep it safe ; — 
not from the general public : I have no fear of men who hurry 
here and there through the streets, engrossed with business ; 
but I fear you and your everlasting priapism, that spares 
neither fair nor foul. Expend it abroad, how you please and 
On whom you please ; I except this one object alone, and not 
unreasonably, as I think. But if in natural depravity and 
the delirium of concupiscence, you proceed to the unpardonable 
crime of inveigling one who is dear to me as my own life, oh 
then merciless will be your fate : feet bound — doors open — 
radishes and mullets ! * 

' Labov/rs not spent in vain.] That is, I am glad that you have re- 
ceived so appropriate an honorarium for advocating the cause of that 
wretched pedant. 

" Saturnalia.'] At the festival of the Saturnalia held in December, 
friends exchanged presents ; slaves took mirthful liberties with their 
masters ; all business was suspended ; and in short, people endeavoured 
to revive for the time the famed golden age of the reign of Saturn. . 

^ Radishes, mullets.'] He threatens Aurelius with the atrocious 

punishment, which law or custom allowed the injured person to inflict 

on the spot upon the adulterer who was caught in the fact. It is thus 

described by Parthenius : Deprehensos quadrupedes constituebant, ac 

, partibus posterioribus violenter expilatis, grandiores raphanos, aut 

■ mugiles, summo cum cruciatu immitlebant, 

c 2 



I WILL trim you and trounce you,' Aurelius and Furius, 
you infamous libertines, who judge from my verses that I am 
myself indecent because they are a little voluptuous ; for it' 
becomes the true poet^ to be himself chaste ; but it is not at 
all necessary that his verses should be so.^ On the contrary, 

^ I will trim you and frounce you."] Ptsdicaho et irrumabo. These 
detestable words are used here only as coarse forms of threatening, with 
no very definite meaning. It is certain that they were very commonly 
employed in this way, with no more distinct reference to their original' 
import than the corresponding phrases of the modern Italians, T" ho in 
culo and becco fottuto, or certain brutal exclamations common in the 
mouths of the English vulgar. 

' The true poet-l Piwrn ^oeioiTO ; the idea which these words conveyed 
to the mind of a Roman corresponded very cloSely with that which is 
expressed in the words, " the poet who is true to his vocation." In Poem 
xiv. the epithet impiorum is applied to bad poets. 
^ To be chaste, &c.] Ovid has a distich to the same effect: 

Crede mihi, distant mores a carmine nostri ; 

Vita verecunda est, musa jocosa mihi. 
" Believe me there is a wide difference between my morals and my song ; 
my life is decorous, my muse is wanton." And Martial says : 

Lasciva est nobis pagina, vita proba est. 
'Which is thus translated by Maynard : 

Si ma plume est une putain, 
Ma vie est une sainte. 
Pliny quotes this poem of Catullus to excuse the wantonness of his 
own verses, which he is sending to his friend. Patemus ; and Apuleius 
cites the passage in his Apology for the same purpose. " 'Whoever," says 
Lambe, " would see the subject fully discussed, should turn to the Bssay 
on the Literary Character by Mr. Disraeli." He enumerates as instances 
of free vn-iters who have led pure lives. La Motte le Vayer, Bayle, La 
Fontaine, Smollet, and Cowley. ' The imagination,' he adds, ' may be a 
volcano, while the heart is an Alp of ice.' It would, however, be diffi^ 
cult to enlarge this list, while on the other hand the catalogue of those 
who really practised the licentiousness they celebrated, would be very 
numerous. One period alone, the reign of, Charles the Second, would 
furnish more than enough to outnumber fhe above small phalanx of 
purity. Muretus, whose poems clearly gave him every right to tnow- 
ledge on the subject, but whose known debauchery would certainly have 
forbidden any credit to accrue to himself from establishing the general 
purity of lascivious poets, at once rejects the probability of such a con- 
trast, saying : 

Quisquis versibus exprimit CatuUum 
Raro moribus exprimit Catonem. 
" One who is a Catullus in verse, is rarely a Cato in morals." 


the very thing to give them zest and charm, is that they be a 
little voluptuous and indecent, and able to excite prurience, 
I do not say in beardless boys, but in the hardened fibres of 
veterans in debauchery. You, because you have read of many 
thousand kisses in my lines, think me effeminate ; but do not 
presume upon my written follies ; hands off ! or I will give 
you awkward proof of my manhoqd. 


TOWN, that wishest to exhibit games on a long bridge, • 
and art ready to dance, but fearest the crazy legs of the little 
bridge standing on piles, lest it fall flat beyond recovery, and 
sink in the deep pool ; may a good bridge be made for thee 
after thy own heart, one on which even the Salian rites ^ may 
be undertaken ; but then, O town, grant me this most laughter- 
moving boon. 

1 want a certain townsman of mine to be pitched neck and 
heels from the bridge into the water ; and just in that part 
where the boggy slime is the bluest and deepest in the whole 
lake and fetid marsh. The man" is utterly witless ; he has 
not as much sense as a child of two years old, rocked to sleep 
on his father's arm. Tliough he has to wife a girl in her 
earliest bloom, and though this girl, more delicate than a 
tender kid, should be watched more carefully than the ripest 
grapes, he lets her play as she will, -and never cares a rush ; 
nor does he bestir himself on his own part, but lies like the 
felled alder in a Ligurian ditch,^ as wholly insensible as though 
he had no wife at all. Just so this dolt of mine sees nothing, 
hears nothing ; he does not even know who he is, or whether 
he exists or not. 

Now I want to send him head foremost from the bridge, 
in order to see if it be possible suddenly to rouse the stolid 

' Exhibit games oni a long bridge.] Public spectacles were usually 
exhibited on the town bridge ; and the practice continued in modern 
Italy in the times of Volpi and Corradini. 

' The Salian rites.'] Salisubsulus was a name of Mars, whose priests, 
the Salii, used in their rites to dance wildly through the streets, carrying 
the sacred ancilia in procession. 

^ Ligurian ditch,] The Ligurians carried on a considerable traffic in 
timber, which they felled in the forests of the Apennines. 


numskull, and leave his inert soul behind in the heavy mud, 
as the mule leaves her iron shoe ' in the stiff slough, 


This grove I dedicate and consecrate to thee, Priapus,' 
who hast thy dwelling and thy woodlands at Lampsacus ; for 
the coast of the Hellespont, abounding above all others in 
oysters, especially worships thee in its cities, 


Shaped out of a dry oak * by a rustic hatchet, I, lads, have 
fostered this place, and the marsh-land cot thatched with 
rushes and bundles of reeds, so that they have thriven more 
and more every year. For the masters of the place worship 
me and salute me as a god, both the father of the cottage 
and his son ; the one taking care with diligent husbandry to 
keep my fane clear from brambles and rough weeds, the other 
continually bringing me little offerings with liberal hand. I 
am crowned with a garland of bright flowers, the firstlings of 
the blossoming spring, and with the soft green blade and ear 
of the tender corn. Yellow violets are offered to me, and the 
yellow poppy, pale gourds and fragrant apples, and the red 
grape reared under its shady vine. Sometimes (but you will 
keep it secret)^ even the bearded he-goat and the horny-footed 
she-goat stain rny altar with blood ; in return for which 

' Iron shoe.^ The shoes of beasts, among the ancients, were not nailed 
to the hoof, but tied on with leather ; consequently they were very liable 
to slip off. 

* To the Garden God."] This fragment, and the two following poems, 
are found in the Catalecta of Virgil, but they are assigned to Catullus by 
many of the best critics, chiefly on the authority of Tereutianus Maurus. 

' Priapun.'] This lusty god, born at Lampsacus, a city of Asia Minor, 
near the Hellespont, was the son of Bacchus and Venus, and his tempera- 
ment was such as became his parentage. Hence the appropriateness of 
that peculiarly CatuUian epithet ostreosior, " more abounding in oysters," 
as applied to the coasts most favoured by the lascivious deity. 

* A dry oah.^ The bust of Priapus was commonly cut out of the 
standing trunk of a tree, and was armed with a sickle, as well as with a 
phallus of most formidable dimensions. 

' Keep it secret.^ Some understand by this that Priapus was afraid of 
the anger of the Celestials if they heard of his receiving honours due to 


honours Priapus is bound to do all those things which are 
expected of him, and to watch the master's garden and vine- 
yard. Forbear therefore, boys, from pilfering here. Our 
next neighbour is rich and his Priapus is negligent. Take 
from him ; this path will lead you to his grounds. 


I, TRAVELLER, I, fashioned by rustic art out of a dry poplar, 
watch the little field you see on the left, and the cottage and 
the little garden of the poor owner, and repel the thief's 
rapacious hands. I am crowned in spring with a wreath of 
many colours ; in the heat of summer with reddening corn ; 
in autumn with sweet grapes and green shoots of the vine, 
- and with the pale green olive. The delicate goat carries to 
the town from my pasture udders distended with milk ; and the 
fat lamb from my folds sends its owner home with a handful 
of money ;" and the tender calf, in spite of its mother's lowings, 
pours out its blood before the temples of the gods. There- 
fore, traveller, you shall revere this goA, who addresses you, 
and keep your hands off. It will be better for you ; for an 
instrument of punishment, a rndie phallus, is in readiness. "I 
should like to see it, egad," say you : then, egad, here comes 
the farmer, and that same phallus, plucked from its place by 
his sturdy arm, wUl become a handy cudgel in his fist. 


AuRELius, chief furnisher of famine-spread boards,' past, 
present, and to come, you are bent on debauching my young 
friend ; and you make no secret of it ; for you never quit the 
poor thing's side, nor lose an opportunity of toying and try- 
ing all the arts of seduction. But all in vain ; for my venge- 
ance will anticipate your insidious purposes. Now if you 
did all this upon a full stoinach, I might have patience ; but 

them alone ; for he "was one of that lower order of deities, to which Faunus, 
Hippona, and others belonged, who were not admitted into heaven, or 
entitled to blood offerings. 

' Furnisher of famine-spread hoards.'] Pater esuritionum: literally 
" father of starvations." It was usual in the banquets of the Romans to 
appoint a president, not necessarily the master of the house, who was 
called master, lord, or father of the feast. In allusion to this custom, 
Catullus humorously calls Aurelius a father of fasts. 


what vexes me is, that under your tuition the poor child must 
learn to bear hunger and thirst. Desist, now, I warn you, 
whilst you can do so with honour, lest 


That Suffeuus, whom you, Varus, know well, is a nice 
fellow, a pleasant talker, and a wit ; ' moreover he makes no 
end of verses. I believe he has written ten thousand or 
more, nor are they scribbled as usual on palimpsest.^ O no! 
royal paper, new covers, new bosses, red bands, the sheets 
ruled with lead, and the whole smoothed with pumice. When 
you read these books, then that graceful and witty Suffenus 
seems to you again a downright goatherd' or a ditrflSr, so ex- 
treme is the change. What are we to think of this ? He who 
but now seemed a professed jester, or whatever else is more 
glib and flippant, becomes stupider than a stupid country clown 
as soon as he puts his hand to poetry ; "and this same man is 
never so happy as when he is writing poetry, he so delights in 
himself, so admires himself.* Doubtless we are all likewise 
fallible, nor is there any one whom you may not perceive to 
be a Suffenus in some particular. Each has his own assign- 

' A wit.] Urbanus. Muretus, in a note on this word, adduces pass- 
ages from Horace and Plautus, in which it is applied in this sense to 
" Miners out." 

' Palimpsest.'] Parchment used a second time to write on, after 
erasing the characters previously inscribed on it, was called a palimpsest. 
The Romans called their best kinds of paper, royal, hieratic, Augustan, 
&c. The word liber, which commonly signifies a book, is here under- 
stood to mean the wrapper. The Romans had very few books of the 
modern form, libri quadrati ; their volumes [volumen, from volvere, 
to roll) were generally scrolls consisting of sheets of parchment ce- 
mented together and rolled round a piece of wood. The scroll had an 
ornamental boss, timbiliciis, attached to its lower end ; and it was tied 
up with thongs of stained leather, lora. 

' A downright goatherd.] Unus caprimulgus, h. e. plane et quantus 
quantus est. Doehing. 
* Js 7iever so happy, &c.] So Horace, Epist. ii. 2, 107 : 

Gaudent scribentes, et se venerantur, et ultro, 

Si taceas, laudant, quicquid scripsere beati. 
and Boileau in his second satire : 

Un sot en ^crivant fait tout avec pMsir ; 

II n'a pas dans ses vers 1' embarras de choisir ; 

Et toujours amoureux de ce qu' il vient d' ecrire, 

Ravi d' ^tonnement, en soi-mSme il s' admire. 


ed failing ; but we do not see what is in the wallet on our 


You, Furius, who possess neither slave nor coffer, nor a bug 
nor a spider, nor a fire,^ have yet a father and a step-mother 
whose teeth can chew up even flint. A pretty life you lead with 
your father and your father's wooden spouse ;' and no wonder ; 
for you are all in good health, you digest "^ell, you fear no- 
thing, neither fires, nor heavy losses, nor impious deeds, nor 
treacherous poison, nor any perilous chances. Moreover you 
have bodies more dried than horn, or if anything else there is 
more arid, by heat, and by cold, and hunger. Wherefore 
should you not be comfortable and happy? You are free 
from sweat, from spittle, from mucus, and unpleasant snivel at 
the nose. To this cleanliness add the still cleanlier fact that 
your posteriors are neater than a salt cellar, nor do you void 
anything from them ten times in a year, and when you do, it 
is harder than a bean or than pebbles, so that if you rub and 
crumble it in your hands you can never dirty a finger. De- 
spise not these precious advantages, Furius, nor think little 
of them, and cease to pray, as you are wont, for a hundred/ 
thousand sesterces ; for you are blest enough. 


O FAIREST bud of the Juventian race, past, present, and toN 
come, I had rather you had given my wealth to that fellow 
who has neither slave nor coffer, than suffer yourself to be 
loved by him. — What ! is he not handsome ? you will say. — 
He is ; but this handsome man has neither slave nor coffer. 
Disdain my words, and make light of them as you will ; still, 
I say, he has neither slave nor coffer. 

' The wallet, &c.] An allusion to ^sop's fable, that Jove has hung 
two wallets on every man, one in front, stuffed with his neighbour's faults, 
the other behind, containing his own. 

^ Neither slave, &c.] To have neither slave nor coffer, was a pro- 
verbial phrase to express extreme poverty. The house that could not 
maintain a bug must have been a poor one indeed. 

' Wooden spouse.'] Dry and meagre as wood ; like the woman of 
whom Scarron says, that she never snuffed the candle with her fingers 
for fear of setting them on fire. 




Lascivious Thallus, softer than rabbit's fur, or goose 
down, or the tip of tlie ear, or spider's web, yet more 
rapacious than the driving storm, when the dire wintry sea 
forces the boding birds ashore : send me back my cloak which, 
you stole, and my Setabian napkin, and my Thynian tablets, 
which you, fool, exhibit openly as if they were heir-looms. 
Unglue them how from your nails,' and send them back to 
me, lest the smarting whip inscribe ugly marks on your deli- 
cate flanks and soft buttocks, and you toss about in a way you 
are not used to, like a tiny bark caught by the raging wind 
on the vast sea. 


Your villa, Furius^is set^ not against the south wind, nor 
the west, nor the keen north, nor the east ; but against fifteen 
thousand two hundred sesterces.' horrible and pestilent 
wind ! 


Young server of old Falernian, pour out for me stronger 
cups,'' for so orders the law imposed by our president Post- 
humia, more drunken than a drunken grape-seed. But 
you, spring water, bane of wine,' begone hence whither you 

' Unglue them, &c.] Reglutina. The Italians say, " Appicarsi la 
roba alle raani," and the Italian translator of Catullus thus renders this 
line : Sciogli adunque dalla peoe 1' unghia infame. 

2 Is set.'\ Catullus puns upon the word opposita, which besides its 
ordinary meaning, opposed to, signifies also pawned for — 

' 15,200 sesterces.] A sum nominally equivalent to about £95, accord- 
ing to the calculation of Vossius, but in reality to more than ten times 
that amount. 

■* Stronger cups.] Literally more bitter, amariores, that is, draughts of 
<irier wine, the original sweetness of which has been converted into spirit 
by the slow fermentation of years. 

5 Bane of wine.'] This scorn of water implies an uncompromising de- 
termination to get drunk as soon as possible, for it was tlie general prac-. 
tice of the ancients to dilute their wine. Anacreon, like a sage tippler 
as he was, exclaims, 

Fill me, boy, as deep a draught, 

As e'er was fiU'd, as e'er was quafTd ; 


will, and migrate to the sober: here is nothing but pure 
Thyonian juice.' 


Ye followers of Piso, empty-handed train, with knapsacks 
well-packed and light of burthen, excellent Verannius and 
you my FabuUus, what are you doing ? Have you endured 
cold and hunger enough with that scamp ?^ How much of 
your profits figures in your account-books as expended ? As 
happened to myself, who, when I followed my prastor, was out 
of pocket instead of gaining. O Memmius, finely you cheated 
and abused me in all that business.^ But as far as I see, 
you, my friends, have been in the same case ; for you have 
had to do with just such another scoundrel. Court noble 
friends after this! But may gods and goddesses shower many 
curses on you,, disgraces to Romulus and Remus ! 

But let the water amply flow, 
To cool the grape's intemperate glow : 
Let not the fiery god be single, 
But with the nymphs in union mingle. 
For though the bowl 's the grave of sadness, 
Oh ! be it ne'er the birth of madness ! 
There is an ingenious epigram on this subject in the Greek Anthology, 
which' has been imitated in Latin by Pierius Valerianus. Bacchus, be 
it remembered, " was from his mother's womb untimely snatched," 
when she was consumed by the effulgence of Jove, her lover, whom she 
had rashly insisted on beholding in his native majesty. 
Ardentem ex utero Semeles lavere Lyasura 

Naiades, extincto fulminis igne sacri ; 
Cum nymphis igitur tractabilis, at sine nymphls 
Candente rursus fulmine corripitur. 
While heavenly fire consumed his Theban dame, 
A Naiad caught young Bacchus from the flame, v 

And dipp'd him burning in her purest lymph ; 
Still, still he loves the sea-maid's crystal urn, 
And when his native fires infuriate bum, 

He bathes him in the fountain of the nymph. Moore. 
' Thyonian Juice.'] Thyoneus was one of the names of Bacchus. 
^ That scamp.'] "Vappa. The word means primitively wine that is 
' grown flat and good for nothing. Vulpius remarks with much probability, 
that Catullus chose this common term of contempt for the sake of the con- 
trast with Frugi (thrifty), the surname of the Piso family. 

' O Memmius, &c.] The original of this passage will not bear to be 
translated literally. Catullus vents his indignation against Memmius in 
the most obscene invective. See the last note on Poem xxxviii. 



Who can behold this, who can endure it, save a lewd 
reprobate, and an extortioner, and a reckless squanderer, that 
Mamurra should have all the fulness of long-haired Gaul^ 
and farthest Britain ? Vicious Cassar,^ wilt thou behold and 
tolerate such things? Thou art a lewd reprobate, and an 
extortioner, and a reckless squanderer. And shall he now, 
proud and profuse, perambulate all men's beds, like the white 
dove of Venus, or Adonis ? Vicious CaBsar, wilt thou behold 
and tolerate such things ? Thou art a lewd reprobate, and 
an extortioner, and a reckless squanderer. Is it for this, sole 
and unrivalled emperor, that thou hast been to the extremest 
island of the west, that this worn-out lecher of thine should 
riot in boundless extravagance? "What matters it?" says 
thy ill-placed liberality. Has he then made away with little ? 
Has he devoured little ? First his patrimony was spent ; next 
the spoil of Pontus ; then thirdly that of Iberia, which the 
auriferous Tagus knows. He is the terror of Gaul, the terror 
of Britain. Why dost thou cherish this wretch ? Or what 

' Mamurra.^ Mamurra Formianus was a Roman knight, and com- 
mander of the artillery, prtefectum fabrim, to Caesar during his wars in 
Gaul. From the fruits of that and other ex'peditions he amassed an 
immense fortune, and is said by Pliny to have been the first in Home who 
adorned his house with pillars of solid marble. When Cajsar was on a 
visit at Cicero's villa, this poem, or that numbered Ivii., which appears to 
have been written before it, was read to him by one of his suite as he 
was bathing. He heard it without even changing countenance, and with 
a moderation which has been highly extolled, accepted the submission 
of Catullus, and invited him on the same evening to supper. But the 
nature of this submission, as implied by the word satisfacientem in the 
passage in whicb Suetonius relates this anecdote, was abject enough, for 
it was a penitent retractation made before witnesses. 

'' Long-haired Gaul.'\ Gallia comata. All Transalpine Gaul was so 

' Vicious CdBsar.] CiruBde Romule. The epithet is here applied in its 
grossest sense, which again is implied in the allusion to the spoil of Pon- 
tus ; for this, as Vossius proves, can only be understood to mean the 
wealth obtained by Coesar, when a young man, through his infamous rela- 
tions with Nicomedes, king of Pontus — as witness two lines sung by 
CsBsar's own soldiers on the occasion of his triumph : 

Ecce Csesar nunc triumphat, qui subegit Galliam ; 
I^icomedes non triumphat, qui subegit Ciesarem. 


can he do but devour fat inheritances ? Was it for this, sole 
and unrivalled emperor, that both of you, father-in-law and 
son-in-law,' ruined the. world? 


Alphenus,^ unmindful, and false to your affectionate com- 
panions, you have no pity now, hard-hearted man, for your 
dear friend. You do not hesitate to beguile and betray me, 
, perfidious wretch ! The impious deeds of deceitful men 
not the celestials ; but this you heed not, and you desert me 
in misfortune. Alas, what can men do henceforth, or in 
whom canthey have confidence ? Surely you bade me yield 
my soul to you implicitly, unjust one, luring me to love you 
as though I had nothing to fear. And now you retract, and 
.let the winds and the 'airy clouds carry away all your idle 
words and acts. If you have forgotten, yet the gods remem- 
ber. Faith ^ remembers and will make you by and by repent 
your conduct. 


SiKMio, thou precious little eye of all peninsulas and 
islands which either Neptune owns in calm lakes and in the 

' Father-in-law and son-in-law.] Pompey married Caesar's daughter, 
Julia, and is commonly supposed to be the " son-in-law " here meant ; 
but Vossius argues ■with some force, that socer and gener apply, not to 
Caesar and Pompey, but to Caesar and Mamurra. Those words, and the 
corresponding terms in Greek, were often used in an unnatural sens6, as 
for instance in an epigram on Noctuinus, attributed to Calvus, in which 
occurs this very line, Gener socerque perdidistis omnia, 

' Alphemis.] The circumstances which provoked this complaint are 
not known to us. The person to whom it is addressed is presumed to 
have been that Alfenus Varus of Cremona, mentioned by Horace, {Sat. 4, 
lib. i.,) who was originally a barber, and afterwards turned lawyer. 

' Faith had a temple at Rome and was treated with divine honours. 

* The Peninsula of Sirmic] Vulpius infers from the expression " your 
master," near the end of the poem, that the whole peninsula belonged to 
Catullus. It is a beautiful spot, finely wooded, and about two miles in 
circumference. At its extreme point on the Lago di Garda, the founda- 
tions of a very extensive edifice have been discovered— the villa, as some 
suppose, of Catullus. After the siege of Peschiera by the French, (general 
Lacombe Saint Michel surveyed the site, and drew a ground-plan lof the 
building, which is printed in Noel's notes. It indicates the existence of 


vast sea ; how willingly, how joyfully do I revisit thee, scarcely 
believing myself that I have left Thynia and the Bithynian 
plains, and behold thee in safety ! Oh, what is more blessed 
than cares dismissed ; when the mind lays down aU. its bur- 
then, and, weary with foreign toil, we come to our own home, 
and rest in the longed-for bed ! This is what alone repays 
me for so many toils. HaiT, beautiful Sirmio, and rejoice in 
thy master. Rejoice too, ye waves of the Lydian lake.' Peal 
out every laugh that is in my home. 


My sweet Hypsithilla, my delight, my merry soul ; bid me, 
like a dear girl, come to you to pass the noon.^ And if you bid 
■ me, add this, that no one bar the gate, that no fancy take you 
to go abroad, but that you remain at home, and prepare for 
us no end of amorous delights.* But if you agree, summon 
me immediately, for I am lying on my back after dinner, full, 
and pampered, and am bursting my tunic and my very cloak.* 

a noble palace in former days, and if this was the villa of Catullus, he 
must have possessed no inconsiderable fortune. The same general gave a 
brilliant fete on the spot in honour of its ancient owner, whose praises 
were said and sung on the occasion by the Italian poet Anelli. Appropri- 
ate toasts were drunk, and such was the enthusiasm of the moment, that 
the inhabitants of Sermione (the modern name of the town of Sii-mio) 
luckily just then arriving with a petition of some troops quartered upon 
them, obtained their request ! Bonaparte himself, when going to ne- 
gotiate the treaty of Campo Formio, turned out of his road between 
Brescia and Peschiera to visit the poet's residence. 

' Lydian lake.] Why Benacus should be so called is not very clear; 
Vulpius says it is because the territory of Verona, in which the lake lies, 
belonged to the RhcEti; the Rhoeti sprang from the Tuscans, and the 
Tuscans from the Lydians. 

' To pass the noon.l That is, to take my siesta with you. See Ovid, 
Amor. i. Eleg. v. 

^ Prepare for m, &o.] We have substituted a vague phrase for a sin- 
gularly plain and precise one. Noel, the French translator, approaches 
the original more nearly, but still in a covert manner : " Prepare neuf 
couronnes au front de ton vainqueur." The Abb6 Marolle, he says, 
" traduit ce passage scabreux d'une manifere assez plaisante : ' Et de neuf 
faf ons qu' il y a de caresser quand on est de bonne humeur, n'en oublie 
pas une.' II est gai, le cher abb^ ! " 

' Am bursting, &c.] Pezay, a French translator, strangely mistakes the 
meaning of the passage, as if it amounted to this, " I have gorged till I 
am ready to burst;" and he quotes the remark of "une femme'char- 
mante," who said that her only reply to such a billet-doux woul 


XXXIII. ON THE VIBENNII.i [See Metrical Version.] 


We, virgins and unblemished youths, are under the protec- 
tion of Diana. Unblemished youths and virgins, let us sing 

great Latonian progeny of mightiest Jove, whom thy 
mother laid down near the Delian olive ; 

That thou mightest be mistress of mountains, and verdant 
woods, and secluded groves, and sounding rivers ; 

Thou art called Juno Lucina by women in the pains of 
childbed ; thou art the mighty Trivia, and art called Luna with 
the borrowed light.^ . 

Thou, goddess, measuring the annual period with thy 
monthly round, fillest the rustic roofs of the husbandman 
with good harvests. 

Be sacred under whatever name it pleases thee,* and pre- 

been to send the writer an emetic. But the lady might have prescribed 
a different remedy if she had been acquainted with Martial's line : 

quoties rigidS, pulsabis pallia ven^ ! 
or with this quatrain of an old French poet : 

Ainsi depuis une semaine 

La longue roideur de ma Teine, 

Pour neant rouge et bien en point, 

Bat ma chemise et mon pourpoint. 
' On the Vibennii.'] Instead of a literal translation of this, and of some 
other pieces, which would be insufferable in English, the reader will 
please to accept Noel's free version in French prose : Effroi des bains 
.publics, iilou consomra^ dans ton art, Vibennius aux mains armies de 
glu, et toi digne fils d' un tel pere, d^goutant Ganymfede, fuyez, 1' exil 
est Totre seule ressonrce. Que feriez-vous ici ? Le pere est trop illustre 
par ses rapines, et les charmes du fils, quoique mis au rabais, ne trouvent 
plus de chalands. 

' Hymn to Diana.'] This was probably composed for some festival of 
Diana, .but chronology establishes that it was not a secular ode. Ad- 
dresses to this goddess were sung by, youths and girls of noble families. 
.Horace has three odes on the same subject. 

^ Luna tuith the borrowed light.] " Bastard light" would be a more 

literal translation. The ancients knew that the moon derived her light 

from the sun. The fact is mentioned both by Lucian and Pliny ; and. 

Luna's car was febled to be drawn by mules, as emblematic of her spu- 

' '.ious splendour. 

■ ^^ Whatever name it pleases thee.] Biana, as well as Isjs, was " Dea 


serve by thy good aid, as thou art wont, the race of Eomulus 
and Ancus. 


Say, paper, to the tender poet, my companion Caseilius, 
that he must come to Verona, forsaking the walls of New 
Comum and the Larian shore,^ for I wish him to hear certain 
reflections of his friends and mine. 'Wherefore, if he be wise, 
he will 'devour the way, though a girl a thousand times fair 
call him back, and throwing both her arms round his neck 
entreat him to delay ; a girl who now, if I am truly informed, 
yearns for him with uncontrollable love. For ever since he 
read to her his story of the mistress of Dindymus,^ fires have 
been consuming the inward marro* of the poor girl. I can 
excuse thee,, girl, more learned than the Muse of Sappho ; 
for beautifully has the Mighty Mother been sung by CseciliuSi 


Annals of Volusius, most execrable book,^ fulfil a vow for 
my girl ; for she pledged herself to sacred Venus and to 
Cupid that if I were restored to her, and ceased to brandish 
my truculent iambics,* she would give the choicest productions 

Myrionoma," a goddess of ten thousaud names. Callimachus, in a hymn 
tu Diana, represents her as asking Jove for perpetual chastity and many 
names; attributes which seem rather fjiscordant to us, who are not 
taught to esteem an alias as connected with any virtue. However, 
she thought the distinction of value, for she preserved it more care- 
fully than Jove's other gift. Minerva is, I believe, of all heathen god- 
desses, the only one of quite unimpeached chastity, except the Furies. 
This passage, begging Diana to choose the name she liked, was to avoid 
a tedious enumeration ; it was usual in invocations to the deities to call 
upon them by all their names, lest the most agreeable might be missed. 
Why was there no chance of offence from some nickname or disrelished 
title ? — Lambs. 

' Larian shore.'] The Larius Lacus is now the Lake of Como. 

' The mistress of Dindymus.] The goddess Cybele. 

' Annals of Volmms, &c.] These annals were an historical poem by 
Volusius of Padua, written, as the author hoped, after the manner of 
Ennius. " Most execrable " is a strong epithet, but not half so strong as 
the original : cacata charta; "rhapsodic digne du cabinet," says Noel, 
borrowing a phrase of Molifere's. 

* Truculent iambics.] The Iambic verse was held to be peculiar!)!- 
adapted to in,veotive and sarcasm. 


of the worst poet to the limping god,^ to be burnt with un- 
lucky wood.'^ So it is plain to my girl that by her merry 
and facetious oath she has devoted these worst of poems to the 
gods.3 Now, O offspring of the azure deep, who dwellest in 
the sacred Idalium, -and the open plains of Syria, in Ancona, 
the reedy Cnidus, Amathus and Golgos, and Dyrrachium,* 
the hostelry of the Adriatic, accept and recognise the f ulfil - 
, ment of the vow, if it is not devoid of piquancy and pretti- 
ness. Into the fire with you, meanwhile, full as you are of 
boorishness and stupidity, Annals of Volusius, most execrable 


All goes iU, Comificius,.with your Catullus, ill iiideed tad 
distressingly, afld more and more so every day and hour. I 
am angry with yon. \ Is it thus you return Ay love-^ Have 
you — it would have been the slightest and easiest task for 
you — ^have you comforted me by any line of yours? some 
little line or other would be welcome to me, though sadder than 
the tearful strains of Simonides.^ 


Lewd tavern, the ninth sign-post from the temple of the 
capped brothers,^ and you its frequenters, do you think that 

^ The limping god.'] Vulcan, who was thrown down ftom heaven to 
earth by Jupiter, and had his thigh broken by the fall. 

2 Unlucky wood.] Roman superstition classified even firewood as 
lucky and unlucky. To the former belonged in general the wood of such 
trees as bore fruit, to the latter the rest; but this rule was not without 

' So it is plain, &o.] Other meanings have been given to this passage, 
but all of them appear forced and insipid in comparison with that which 
we have adopted. The text itself is variously given ; we follow Doering's 
reading : 

Et haec pessima se puella vidit 

Jocose et lepide vovere Divis. i 

■* Idalium, &c.] Catullus here enumerates the places where Venus was 
chiefly worshipped. ' Ascalon, in the southern lowlands of Syria, was the 
first city which had a public building in honour of the goddess. Amathus 
and Golgos were cities, Idalium a forest and city, of Cyprus. Dyrracliium, 
formerly Epidamnum, is now Durazzo. 

* Simonides.'] ' An exquisite elegiac poet of the island of Ceos. 
- ' The capped brothers.'] Castor and Pollux, who were represented as 


you alone have the attributes of manhood ? that you alone are 
licensed to kiss the girls, all and sundry, [and to scorn other 
men as if they were rank goats]? ' Is it because you sit there 
night and day, a hundred boobies or two, that you do not 
think I will venture to tackle the whole two hundred of you 
at once ? Ay, but you may think it ; and I will write all 
over the front of your tavern with burnt sticks.^ For my girl, 
who has fled from my bosom, my girl whoin I loved with a love 
that will never be equalled, for whom I have waged great 
wars, has sat herself down there ; and now you all make love 
to her, pleasant, comfortable fellows, and — ^what is really too 
bad — all of you pitiful knaves, gallants of the by-streets, and 
you above aJl, Egnatius, one of the long-haired race from the 
rabbit-warrens of Celtiberia, you whose merit consists in a 
bushy beard, and teeth scrubbed with Spanish urine.^ 


Because Egnatius has white teeth he grins incessantly. 
Whether he be present at a criminal prosecution when the 

■wearing a sort of Phrygian cap, in shape like half an egg-shell, — an allu- 
sion to their birth from Leda's eggs. 

' Rank goats.~\ The line corresponding to the passage enclosed be- 
tween brackets, appears in all the editions, but is certainly spurious, aa 
Handius has shown. 

° Burnt sticks.l Scipionibus, which is the reading of all the MSS., is 
shrewdly suspected by Handius to be a transcriber's mistake for inserip- 
tionibus, a word which is here doubly appropriate, whilst the " burnt ' 
stick " is a common-place detail, the mention of which is superfluous. 
Inscriptio is the Latin equivalent for the Greek word epigram. Moreover , 
it was customary to display on the fronts of brothels the names of the 
inmates, just as shopkeepers' names were inscribed over places of more 
reputable trade : this was called insariptio or titulus. The passage thus . 
amended would mean, " I will scribble the front of your tavern all over 
witli epigrams and inscriptions of your names." 

' Spanish urine.'] This is not a malicious invention of the angry poet's. 
Strabo and Diodorus state positively that the Spaniards were in thev 
habit of beautifying their teeth and skin witli this singular cosmetic. - 
It has been necessary greatly to mitigate the obscene ribaldry of this ' 
poem in the translation ; but this perhaps has not induced any great, 
sacrifice of fidelity. There is often an immense difference between the,* 
conventional and the etymological meaning of worde, and a translator 
who regards only the latter must often grossly misrepresent his original.! 
A perfectly literal version of this poem would not be more repugnant tpj 
the taste of the English reader than to the spirit of the orieinal, which isi 

*!,..*.,*«««-«.. 1 — If .; 1 :*.. .1 ii -r : 1 


orator moves the audience to tears, he grins ; or whether at 
the scene of woe round the funeral pile of a dutiful son, when 
the bereaved mother weeps for her only child, he grins. What- 
ever is in hand, wherever he is, whatever he does, he grins. 
He has this disease upon him, a thing neither elegant, in my 
opinion, nor genteel. Wherefore I must admonish you, good 
Egnatius, if you were a native of Rome, or a Tiburtine, or au 
Umbrian hog, or a fat Etruscan, or a swarthy and huge- 
toothed Lanuvian, or a Transpadane — that I may touch upon 
my own countrymen also — or were you a native of any country 
where they wash their teeth in clean water, still I would not 
have you grin incessantly ; for nothing is sillier than silly 
laughter. But every Celtiberian in the Celtiberian land is in 
the habit of scrubbing his teeth and his red gums in the 
morning with his last night's urine, so that the more finely 
polished your teeth are, the more the fact declares you to 
have drunk of chamber-lye. 

What infatuation, wretched Eavidus, drives you headlong 
upon my iambics? What god, an evil counsellor for you, 
urges you to an insane strife ? Is it that you may become the 
common talk ? What would you have ? Do you wish to be 
notorious on any terms ? You shall be so, since you have sought 
to supplant me in my love at the cost of lasting punishment. 

Is that b&ttered strumpet in her senses, who asks me ten 
thousand sesterces?' That girl with the nasty nose, the 
mistress of the desperate spendthrift Formianus ? Te kins- 
men, to whom the care of the girl belongs, call together friends 
and physicians : the girl is insane. Do not ask what is her 
malady : she is labouring under visionary delirium.^ 

' Ten fhomand sesterces.] Nominally about £60, but equivalent to 
more than ten times that amount in coin of the present day. 

' She is labouring. Sec.'] Such is the best explanation given of the 
dubious text sciet luec imaginosum ; solet being construed as a neuter 
transitive verb., But we strongly incline to Doering's conjectural emend- 
ation : " nee rogare 

Qualis sit, solet ; en imaginosam ! 
" The girl is mad, and never thinks of asking -what sort of a looking per- 
son she is ; -what a fanciful wench ! " 

D 2 



HiTHEK, Phalffician verses ! ' hither all of you from every 
quarter ; hither one and all ! A vile harlot thinks me a fit 
laughing-stock, and refuses to return me your tablets,^ if you 
can bear this. Let us pursue her and beset her with our 
demands. Who is she, do you ask ? That jade whom you 
see moving with ugly affected gait, and grinning disgustingly 
with a mouth like a Gallic beagle. Plant yourselves round 
her and beset her with your demands ; " Filthy harlot, give 
back the tablets ; give Isack the tablets, filthy harlot. You 
care not a farthing ? lump of mud, common strumpet, 
or more infamous stiU if anything can be so ? " 

But you must not think even this enough ; if, however, it 
can do nothing more, at least let us force a blush upon her 
iron dog's-face.^ Shout again with louder voice : " Filthy 
harlot, give back the tablets ; give back the tablets, filthy 

But we can do no good ; she is not moved a jot. You 
must change your plan and method, and try if you can suc- 
ceed any better. " Chaste and virtuous maid, return the 


Hail, girl, with not over-much of a nose, with no pretty 
foot, nor black eyes, nor long fingers,-^ nor dry mouth, nor 
particularly pleasing tongue, hail, spendthrift Formian's mis- 
tress ! Does the province'* tell that you are beautiful ? Does 
it compare you with my Lesbia? O senseless and stupid 

' Phalmdan verses.'] The hendecasyllabio metre, so called from Pha- 
Ijeous, who perfected, if he did not invent it. 

^ Tablets.] Fugillaria. These- were tables of ivory or wood, thinly 
coated with wax, the writing upon which could be erased, or scratched 
in again at pleasure. Upon these Catullus set down the rough draft of 
the verses he apostrophises in this poem ; tlierefore he calls the lost 
property "yow tablets." 

^ Iron dog's-face.] The Latins said os /arejim, " iron face,'-' as we 
now say " brazen face." 

* The province.] The Transpadanian province. 



MX farm, whether Sabine or Tiburtine ' — for those who 
have no wish to vex Catullus, aver that you belong to the 
territory of Tibur ; but those who do so wish, will lay any bet 
that you are Sabine — but whether you are Sabine or rather 
Tiburtine, gladly did I find myself in your suburban villa, 
and get rid of a bad cough which my stomach bestowed upon 
me not undeservedly, whilst I indulged in sumptuous feasting. 
For Sextianus, whilst I had a mind to be a partaker of his 
good cheer, read me an. oration delivered in opposition to 
Antius, the prosecutor, full of poisonous and pestilent stuff; 
thereupon a cold I'heum and frequent cough shook me^ until 
I fled to your bosom, and doctoi:ed myself with basil and 
nettle. Wherefore, now restored to health, I return you my 
best thanks for that you have not punished my fault. Nor 
do I now object, if again I listen to Sextian's infernal writ- 
ings, but that theitt frigidity may inflict rheum and cough, not 
on me, but on Srfxtius himself, who only invites me when he 
has a bad boolj/^f his to read. 


Thus said Septimius, as he held his beloved Acme on his 
bosom : " If I do not love thee to perdition, my Acme, and am 
not bent on still loving thee constantly through all coming 
years, as much and as consumin^ly as pos^ible,^ may I be ex- 

' Sabine or Tiburtine.] The farm was situated on the confines of both 
territories. Why Catullus preferred Tibur does not appear. 

2 A cold rheum, &c.] Modern compositions have had the same influ- 
ence on their readers. Swift tells us, in his verses on burning a dull 
poem : 

" The cold conceits, the chilling thoughts, 
"Went down like stupifying draughts ; 
I found my head begin to swim ; 
A numbness crept through every limb." 
' If I do not hve thee, &o.] Granville, Lord Lansdown, has imitated 
this passage, in an inscription on a drinking glass, written under the 
name of the Lady Mary Villiers, whom he afterwards married : 
" If I not love thee, Villiers, more 
Than ever mortal loved before ; 


posed alone to a grim-eyed lion' in Libya or in scorching 
India." When he said this, Love, who had looked upon him 
before from the left, now sneezed approvingly from the 

But Acme gently bending back her head, and kissing the 
love-drunken eyes of her sweet boy with that rosy mouth of 
hers, said, " My own life, SeptimUlus, let us ever serve this 
one lord alone, so surely as the fire in my soft marrow burns 
fuller far and more fiercely than ever." ^ When she said this, 
Love, who had looked upon her before from the left, now 
sneezed approvingly from the right. 

Now sped upon their course with a good omen, they love 
and are loved with mutual affection. Love-lorn Septimius 
prefers Acme before Syria and Britain : ^ faithful Acme 
centres all her pleasure and delight in Septimius alone. Who 
ever saw happier mortals ? Who ever saw a more auspicious 
passion ! 


Now spring brings back tepid gales, now the fury of the 
equinoctial sky is hushed before the pleasant breath of zephyr. 

With such a passion, fix'd and sure, 
As e'en possession could not cure, 
Never to cease but with my hreath, 
May then this bumper be my death ! " 
' A grim^eyed Hon.] Casio leoni. This epithet, says Dr. Nott, here 
implies haying eyes of a greenish brightness, as cats, tigers, lions, and the 
generality of beasts of prey : ciesim is much the' same with the Greek 
glaucus; whence Minerva, who had such-eyes, is called glaneopis. 

' My own life, &o.] , Both Nott and Lambe appear to have mistaken 
the meaning of this passage, taaking Acme institute a comparison be- 
tween the force of her own passion and her lover's, of which we can dis- 
cover no indication in the original here subjoined : 
Sic, inquit, mea vita, Septimille, 
Huic uni domino usque serviemus, 
Ut multo mihi major acriorque 
Ignis mollibus ardet in meduUis. 
Acme's meaning is, Let our exclusive devotion to this god increase ever- 
more, as does the fervour of my passion. 

' Syria and Britain.] The Romans supposed Syria to be the centre 
of the world, and Britain the extremity. Hence tliere is a, peculiar force 
in the use of these two words in this place ; they imply that Acme was 
dearer to Septimius than all between the world's centre and its remotest 


Left be the Phrygian fields, Catullus, and the fertile soil of 
sultry Nicsea; let us fly to the illustrious cities of Asia.' 
Now my miiid, in a flutter of anticipation, longs to roam ; now 
my feet grow strong in joyful eagerness. Farewell, sweet 
circle of companions, who left your distant home together, 
and who depart by various ways. 


POECIUS and Socration, two unlucky, scurvy knaves of 
Piso, and famished underlings of Memmius, has that circum- 
cised Priapus preferred you to my Verannulus and FabuUus ? 
Do you fare sumptuously every day ; and are my comrades 
forced to look for invitations in the street?^ 

XLVIII. TO HIS LOVE.,-'.. ^ - _: 

Were I allowed to kiss your sweet eyes without stint, I 
would kiss on and on up to three hundred thousand times ; 
nor even then should I ever have enough, not though our 
crop of kissing were thicker than the dry ears of the corn-field. 


Maecus TuUius, most eloquent of the race of Eomulus, of 
all that are, that have been, and that shall be in future years, 
Catullus thanks you heartily, Catullus the worst of poets — as 
much the worst of poets as you are the best of all advocates. 


Yesteedat, Licinius, we spent our leisure in writing many 
sportive things on my tablets, as became men like us. Each 
of us writing verses of refined wit frolicked now in this mea- 
sure now in that, interchanging sallies amid mirth and wine. 
I left the place so fired by your wit and fun, that food had no 
relish for poor me, nor could sleep veil my eyes in quiet, but 

1 Phrygian fields . . . Asia."] Achilles Statius says, As Phrygia is in 
Asia, how could Catullus leave Phrygia to go into Asia ? The answer is : 
Phrygia is in Asia Minor, not in Asia Proper. 

2 Look for invitations, &c.] This hunting for invitations does not, ac- 
cording to modem notions, place the two friends of Catullus in a respect- 
able light ; but it was a common and avowed practice at Borne. 


I tossed all about the bed in unconquerable excitement, longing 
to see the light, that I might talk to you and be. with you. 

But after my wearied limbs lay half dead upon my bed, I 
■wrote these lines to you, pleasant friend, that you might per- 
ceive from them my grief at your absence. Now be not over- 
weening, and despise not my prayers I entreat you, apple of 
my eye, lest Nemesis exact penalties from you. She is a 
vehement goddess ; beware of offending her. ' 


He seems to me to be equal to a god, he seems to me, if it 
be meet, to surpass the gods, who, sitting opposite to thee, at 

' To Lesbia,] The first three stanzas of this poem are translated from 
Sappho's celebrated ode, preserved by Longinus. Ambrose Phillips's 
■well-known version of it ■will be found in a subsequent page ; here fol- 
lows one in meagre prose : 

" That man seems to me to be equal to the gods, -who sits opposite 
thee, and hearkens to thee near him s^weetly speaking and laughing. This 
flutters the heart in my breast ; for ■when I see thee, no voice comes fiBn 
my throat, but my tongue is silent ; a subtle fire immediately suiSiiaet 
my skin ; I have no sight in my eyes ; my ears boom ; a cold litfe^, 
overspreads me ; trembling seizes me all over ; I am greener than jmfK)fii 
and breathless, I seem all but dead." ' 

The reader ■will perceive that Catullus has not translated Sa^^toHJ 
last stanza, but has substituted for it (or some one else has done so), 
one of a very common-place and inapposite character. It is scarcely 
credible indeed that Catullus can have ■written such a piece of bathos at 
all ; it is more probably the patchwork of some stupid and conceited 
pedant. Three attempts have been made to supply the missing stanza. 
One is by Achilles Statius : 

Sudor it late gelidus trementi 

Artubus totis, violamque vincit 

Insidens pallor, moriens nee auras 
Ducere possum. 
Another is by Jans 'Van der Does or Douza : 

Frigidus sudor fluit ; horror artus 

Pallidos herba magis it per omnes, 

Et pati mortem videor morans in 
Limine mortis.' 
The third is by Henry Stephens : 

Manat et sudor gelidus, tremorque 

Occupat totam ; velut herba pallent 

Ora ; aperandi neque compos, orco 
Proxima credo. 
It is also to be remarked, that CatuUus has injudici<sialy awkd to 


once betolds thee and hears thy sweet laughter; but this 
takes away all my senses, wretch that I am ; for, as soon as 
I have looked upon thee, Lesbia, there remains to me [no 
voice], but my tongue is paralysed ; a subtle flame flows down 
through my limbs ; my ears ring with their own sound ; both 
my eyes are veiled in night. 

Ease is baneful to thee, Catullus; thou revellest and de- 
lightest to excess in ease ; love of- ease has ere now destroyed 
kings and prosperous cities. 


Wherefore, Catullus, wherefore dost thou delay to die ? 
Struma Nonius sits in the curule chair ; Vatinius perjures 
himself in the consulship. Wherefore, Catullus, wherefore 
dost thou delay to die ? 


I JtAUGHED at some one in the crowd at the Forum, who, 
whea my friend Calvus had marvellously well set forth the 
crimed of Vatinius, exclaimed in admiration, lifting up his 
hands : " Great gods, what an eloquent little hop-on-a- 

translate the phrase signifying " sweetly speaking." Horace has caught 
the spirit of it more faithfully : 

Dulce ridentem Lalagen amabo, 
Dulce loquentem. 
' Hcp-on-a-stool.] The word which contains the point of this epigram 
has been the subject of much debate among the learned.^ Some read 
solopacMum, mea,nmg " a. mannikin eighteen inches high;'' Saumasius 
proposes salopygium, a " wagtail ;" several editors have salaputium, an 
indelicate word nurses used to children when they fondled them, so that 
the exclamation would mean, " what a learned little puppet ! " Thus Au- 
gustus called Horace purissimum penem. The reading to which we have 
adhered is salicippium. Implying that little Calvus perched himself upon 
a stool. This reading is confirmed by a passage in Seneca, which men- 
tions the oration against Vatinius, and particularly records the fact that 
on one occasion at least Calvus imponi se supra cippum jussit, and that 
his ftiend Catullus called him salicippium disertum. 

42 CATULXtrs. 


CoAESE-MiNDED Csesar, I would that, if not everything, 
at least Otho's very puny head, Vettius's half- washed legs, and 
Libo's nasty stinking habit, were disliked by you, and by that 
double-dyed old rogue ^ Fuffitius. You shall again be angered 
by my honest iambics, unique captain ! 


I BEG you will tell me, if it is not an impertinent question, 
where is your hiding-place. I looked for you in the Lesser 
Campus, in the Circus, in all the book-shops, in the conse- 
crated temple of supreme Jove, and likewise in Pompey's pro- 
menade. I stopped all the girls I met, those more especially 
whom I saw looking serenely,^ and demanded you of them, cry- 

' To Cffisor.] Muretus declared these lines to be utterly unintelligible 
to any but a sibyl ; and so they are in the form in which they appear in 
most editions ; but the sense of the amended text, as given by Doering, 
is clear and pointed. He reads, 

Othonis caput oppido pusillum, 
Vetti, rustice, semilauta crura, 
Subtile et leve peditum Libonis, 
Si non omnia, displicere vellem 
Tibi, et Fuffitio seni reoocto. 
Irascere iterum meis iambis! 
Immerentibus, unice imperator. 
' Dovble-dyed old rogue.'] Seni recocto. Horace applies this epithet 
to one who had often served the office of quinquevir, or proconsul's not- 
ary, and who was therefore master of all the arts of chicanery. These 
are his words, Sat. v . lib. 2 : 

Plerumque recoctus 
Scriba ex quinqueviro corvum deludit hiantem. 
A seasoned scrivener, bred in office low, 
Full often dupes and mocks the gaping crow. Francis. 
The modern Italians say of a man of this stamp, Egli ha cotto il culo tie' 
ceci rossi. The phrase seni recocto may also imply one who enjoys a 
green and vigorous old age, as if made young again, as the old woman 
was by wine, of whom Petronius speaks. Anus recocta vino ; or .^son, 
who was re-cooked by Medsea. That witch, says Valerius Flaccus, Re- 
coquit fessos atate parentes, 

^ Looking serenely.'] " Meaning," says Dr. Nott, " that the lovely 
tranquillity of every female countenance convinced me you were safe ; for 
if any accident had happened to you, all the women in the city must have 
had grief pictured in their faces." " Rather," says Lambe, " supposing 


ing, " Give me up my Camerius, wicked wantons ! " One of 
them, baring her bosom, says, " Lo, here he lies hid in these rosy 
nipples." Now it would be a labour of Hercules to seek you, 
if that he true, for in such a proud lodging as that you are 
sure to he " not at home," my friend. Tell me where you are 
likely to be ; out with it boldly, give it to the light of day. 
Do the milk-white girls detain you? If you keep a close 
tongue, you will throw away all the fruits of love; Venus 
delights in tattling. Or if you will, you may keep your 
mouth shut, provided I have a share in your friendship. 
Not if I were that famed guardian of Crete;' not if I were 
borne by the flying Pegasus ; not if I were, Ladas,^ or the 
wing-footed Perseus ;' not if Rhesus'* swift, snow-white team 
were mine, — add to these the feather-footed flying sons of 
Boreas,^ take too the speed of the winds, and though you 
should bestow upon me aU these put together, stiU I should 
be wearied in the marrow of every limb, and eaten up with 
fatigue upon fatigue in hunting after you, my friend. 

LVI. TO CATO.» iSee Metrical Version.^ 

it probable that any female who looked peculisn^ 'smiling, was rejoicing 
in the possession of your love, and the knowledge of your place of con^ 
cealment." The choice between these two interpretations turns upon 
the meaning to be given to tamen in the line Quas vultu vidi tamen sereno. 
If the force of the word tamen (however) be thrown on the relative pro- 
noun, it will give us Nott's view of the passage ; but if it be made to 
bear upon the antecedent, it will give us Lambe's. Doering adopts the 
latter construction, and exhibits it in this paraphrase : illas tamen praeci- 
pue, quas vultum serenum prse se ferre videbam, vel his verbis, ut te mihi 
redderent, impensius rogabam. 

' Guardian of Crete.'] Talus, a giant with a brazen body, employed 
by Jove to guard Crete while Europa resided there as his mistress. He 
went round the whole island every day. 

^ Ladas.] One of Alexander the Great's couriers, who ran so swiftly 
as to leave no foot-marks in the sand. 

' Perseus.} Son of Jupiter and Danae. Mercury lent him his winged 
sandals to enable him to attack the Gorgons. 

* Rhesus.} King of Thrace, possessed of very swift horses, on which 
the fate of Troy depended. 

' SoTis of Boreas.} Calais and Zethus. 

' To Cato.} h' aventure est trop plaisante ! Tu vas rire mon cher 
Caton ; toi qui aimes les bons contes, tu vas en rire pour 1' amour de 
moi. Je viens de surprendre un joli enfant, que ma nymphe initiait 
complaisamment aux plus doux mysteres. J' ai perce le petit drole d' 
un trait vengeur, et Venus a souri de ma vengeance. Noel. 



"Well matclied are the infamous reprobates,' the pathic 
Mamurra and Caesar, and no wonder ; for on both foul marks, 
contracted by the one at Eome, by the other at Formise, are 
deeply and indelibly impressed. Both libidinous^ alike, a 
twin pair, sharing one bed, both dabblers in erudition,^ the 
one not a more insatiable lecher than the other, rival allies of 
the girls — well-matched are these infamous reprobates. 


C^Lius, our Lesbia, Lesb'a, that Lesbia wh(Jm Catullus 
loved more than himself and all his kin, now in the public 
streets and in alleys makes herself a common truU to the 
magnanimous descendants of Eemus.* 

' Infamous reprobates.'] Improbis cincedis. There is scarcely a phrase 
in this most atrocious lampoon which we dare reproduce in its loatjisome 

^ Libidinous.'] Morbosi, say the commentators, has the same meaning 
as pathici. Herodotus says that angry Venus smote the Scythians morbo 
muliebri. Perhaps the epithet may be elucidated by this line of Juvenal : 
Cseduntur tumidae, medico ridente, mariscae. 

' Dabblers in erudition.] Ervdituli. We are content, with the ma- 
jority of commentators, to understand this in a contemptuous, but at least 
a decent sense. Some, however, will have it that the accomplishments 
alluded to are not literary, but Priapeian. It is in this sense Petronius 
calls Gito doctissimus puer. CKzema, a grave German jurist, parodied a 
part of this piece. His epigram can be read without danger of having 
one's stomach turned. 

Belle convenit inter elegantes 
Dione's famulas, et erudites 
Antiquae Themidis meos sodales. 
Nos jus justitiamque profitemur : 
Illae semper amant coluntque rectum. 
" There is a charming coincidence of sentiment between the fair votaries 
of Venus and my learned brethren : we profess law and justice ; they 
dearly love the thing that is upright. 

* Ccelitts.'] This is conjectured to have been Cselius Rufus, Catullns's 
rival in the aifection of Lesbia, supposing — which is again conjectural — 
that she was the sister of Clodius. 

' O Cmliits, Sec] Nothing can exceed the sad sweetness of the first 
three of these five verses ; but that villanous gbMt in the last line is 
enough to poison all the waters of Aganippe. 



Can it be that Rufa of Bononia, the wife of Menins, cajoles 
the consequential Rufulus ? That Rufa whom you have seen 
in the burial-grounds snatching a meal from the funeral pile, 
and who, when she prowled for the bread that rolled down 
out of the fire, was beaten by the half-shaved body-burner ? 


Did a lioness on the Libyan mountains, or ScyUa barking 
with the part below her groins, bring thee forth of so hard 
and savage a mind that thou shouldst hold in contempt the 
voice of a suppliant in extremity ? O too savage-hearted ! 


DwiELLEE on the hiU of HeUcon, offspring of Urania, who 
snatchest away the tender virgin to Jhe bridegroom, Hymen ! 
O Hymen ! 

Bind thy brows with blossoms lof the fragrant marjoram ; 
take thy 'flame-coloured veil;^ hither, hither come, joyous, 
wearing the yellow sandaP on thy snow-white foot; 

And roused by this glad day, carolling nuptial songs with 
silvery voice, beat the ground with thy feet, shake the pine 
torch in thy hand. 

For JuUa — lovely as Idalian' Venus when she came before 

1 Epithalamium, &o.J The Epithalamium was a poem sung by youths 
or Tirgins, or both, when the bride was brought to the bridegrooni and 
placed in the thalamus or bridal bed; hence the name, from Itti and 
SiaXdiwe. Of Julia no more is known than that her cognomen Aurun- 
culeia was that of the Cotta: family ; but Manlius of the illustrious line of 
the Torquati, is a well-known character. Catullus commemorates his 
&iendship in another poem. 

' Flame-eokmred veil.'] The Flammeum, which the bride put on be- 
fore she proceeded to her husband's house. It covered her from head 
-to foot, and its bright saffron or flame colour is supposed to have been 
intended as another means of concealing her blushes. 

•> XvBov) simdal.] This has always been given to Hymen by the poets. 
It !;\-.*are usual to crown him with roses than with marjoram. 


the Phrygian judge — Julia, a virgin good, with good omen 
weds Manlius,' — 

Julia, shining forth as the myrtle on Asian ground' with 
its blossomed branches, which the Hamadryads nourish with 
dewy moisture to be the scene of their sports. 

Come then ; wending hither, forsake the Aonian grottoes of 
the Thespian rock, over which flows the cool water of 

And call home the lady yearning for her bridegroom, bind- 
ing her mind with love, as the clinging ivy enfolds the tree,' 
spreading its sprays all over it. 

And. you too, joining with us, chaste virgins for whom a 
like day approaches, come, repeat in measure. Hymen, 
Hymen ! 

That so much the more willingly hearing himself summoned 
to his office, the conductor of chaste Venus, the conjoiner of 
true love, may wend his way hither. 

What god, oh what god, is more worthy to be invoked by 
lovers ? Which of the celestials shouW men worship more ? 
Hymen, O Hymen ! 

Thee the anxious parent invokes for his children ; for thee 
virgins loose the zone from their bofeoms ; ■• thee the agitated 
bridegroom listens for with craving ear. 

'Thou givest to the arms of the fi,ery youth the blooming 
maid, snatched from her mother's bosom. Hymen, O Hymen ! 

No indulgence can Venus take without thee which fair 
fame approves ; but with thy consent she may. What power 
may be compared with this god ? 

No house can have heirs without thee, no parent race be 

' Julia, a virgin, &o.] Julia will her Manlius wed, 

Good with good, a blessed bed. Leigh Hunt. 
' Asian ground.] A marshy tract of land, with a town on it of the 
same name, between the river Cayster and Mount Tmolus. 

' As the clinging ivy, &c.] This natural simile is constantly recurring 
in the poets ; and tljeir fondness for it is fully justified by its beauty. In 
Shakspeare, Titania thus addresses her monstrous idol. Bottom : 
Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms ; 
Fairies, begone, and be all ways away ! 
So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle 
Gently entwist ; the female ivy so 
Enrings the barky fingers of the elm. 
1 Loose the zone, &c.] See the last note to Poem viii. 


prolonged in its progeny ; but with thy consent it may. What 
power may be compared with this god ? 

The land that lacks thy rites cannot give itself magistrates ; ' 
but with thy consent it may.. What power may be compared 
with this, god ? 

Gates, unfold your wings ! The virgin is at hand. See 
you how the torches shake their gleaming hair ' /^But thou 
tarriest ; the day is waning ; come, bride, come ! j V 

Ingenuous shame retards her, and she weep* more and 
more, hearing that she must needs advanqe. But thou tarri- 
est; the day is waning ; come, bride, come ! 

Cease to weep ; there is no danger for thee, Aurunculeia, 
that any fairer w^oman shall see the bright day coming up 
from the ocfean. ' ^ 

So stands, the hyacinth amidst the varied bloom of a rich 
ow^^r's garden. But thou tarriest ; the day is waning ; 
cotne, bride, come ! 

Come, bride, come, (now she is in sight,) and hear our 
words. See you how the torches shake their golden hair ? 
Come, bride, come ! , 

Not like a profligate sunk in vile adultery, not in pursuit of 
base pleasures, will thy hustiand wish to rest apart from thy " 
tender breast. . 

As the clinging vine entwines its companion tree, will he be 
entwined in thy embrace. But the day is waning; come, 
bride, come ! , 

O white-footed bed, ^ 

What joys await thy master, what joys in the rayless 
night and in the noon-day. But the d'ay is waning ; come, 
bride, come ! 

Lift up your torches, boys, I see the flame-coloured veil 
approaching. Come, carol in measure, Hymen, 0, Hymen ! 

' Magistrates. 1 Before tHe time of the Cssars those of illegitimate birth 
were excluded from all magisterial ofEces. 

'. Three lines are wanting here. 

' Here we omit some lines which foully disfigure this beautiful poem. 
They are thus rendered by Noel : 

Que les airs retentissent de vos chansons foiatres ; la fete permet un 
peu de licence; et toi, favori d' hier, ddlaiss^ aujourdhui, jelte a ces 
enfans lea noix que 1' usage leur abandonne. 


It is said of thee, essenced bridegroom, that thou canst 
iiardly abstain from thy illicit joys i>but abstain. Hymen, 
O Hymen ! 

We know that only those delights have been known to thee 
which are allowed ; but those same delights are not allowable 
for a married man. Hymen, O Hymeffi 

Aiid thou too,^ bride, beware of refusing what thy husband 
craves, lest he go and seek it elsewhere. Hymen, O Hymen ! 

Lo, what a potent and prosperous house thou hast in thy 
husband's, which shall obey thee for ever ; Hymen, O Hymen ! 

Until white-haired age nods perpetual assent with thy 
tremulous head. Hymen, O Hymen ! 

Bear thy golden feet with a good omen over the threshold,' 
and enter the polished gates. Hymen, Hymen ! 

Look how thy husband, reclining within on the purple 
couch, expects thee with his whole soul. H3rmen, O Hymen I 

A flajne glows in his inmost breast, no less than in thine, 
but with deeper searching fire. Hymen, O Hymen ! 

Ce jeu de leur age ne convient plus au tien. L' Hymen dont Manliua 
suit les loix, rend desonnais ton ministere inutile. 

Hier encore, fier de la faveur du maJtre, tu dedaignais les avances'dea 
jeunes fiUes. Aujourdhui tes beaux clieveux vont tomber sous le fer ; 
favori disgracie, donne a ces enfans les noix qu' ils attendent. 

" This coarse imitation of the Fescennine poems," says Dunlop, (His- 
tory of Roman Literature,) " leaves on our minds a stronger impression 
of the prevalence and extent of Roman vices, than any other passage in 
the Latin classics. Martial, and Catullus himself elsewhere, have branded 
their enemies ; and Juvenal, in bursts of satiric indignation, has re- 
proached his countrymen with the blackest crimes. But here in a com- 
plimentary poem to a patron and intimate friend, these are jocularly 
alluded to as the venial indulgence of his earliest youth." 

' Over the threshold.'] The bride entering her husband's house was 
lifted over the threshold, that she might not touch it. Various reasons 
have been assigned for this, among others, that the threshold was sacred 
to Vesta, the goddess of chastity, who might be offended at the nuptials ; 
or that the bride should avoid touching any spell which some jealous 
rival might have secretly laid there. Perhaps the true reason is less 
recondite. Cicero speaks of the offensio pedis, (striking the threshold with 
the foot,) generally as an ill omen ; and Ovid and TibuUus both mention 
it as to be avoided at the outset of any undertaking. Shakspeare, Henry 
VI., part 3, makes Gloucester say. On finding the gates of York closed 
against him and Edward IV., 

" The gates made fast ! Brother, I like not this ; 
For many men, that stumble at the threshold, 
Are ^^•ell foretold that danger lurks within." 


Let go the maiden's arm, smooth, purple-robe^ boy,' and 
let her now go to her husband's bed. Hymen, Hymen ! 

You, worthy matrons, known for your faithfulness to your 
aged husbands, place the maiden.^ Hymen, Hymen ! 

Now, bridegroom, thou mayest come ; thy wife is in the 
bridal chamber, her blooming face shining like the white 
camomile and the yellow poppy.' 

But, so help me the celestials, thou bridegroom art no less 
handsome, nor does Venus neglect thee. But the day is 
waning ; forward ! make no delay. 

Thou hast not long delayed ; thou comest now ; may kind 
"Venus aid thee, since thou takest openly what thou desirest, 
nor dost thou make a secret of thy virtuous love.„ ' 

Let him first compute the number of the Red Sea's sands, 
or of the glittering stars, who would count your many thou- 
sand sports and joys. 

Sport to your hearts' content, and soon produce children : 

' Purple-robed boy."} This was the paranymphus, whose province it 
•was to escort the bride home ; he was chosen of noble birth, and there- 
fore wore the prcBtexta or garb bordered with purple. 

^ Place the maiden.'] Widows, and matrons who had contracted a 
second marriage, were disqualified for this office. 

' White camomile, &6.] Commentators have expended a, world of 
labour in endeavouring to identify the parthenice, which we have rendered 
"camomile," in accordance with what seem^ to us 'the most plausible 
conjecture. The " yellow poppy," luteum papaver, suggests to the 
English reader an unfortunate image which was certainly not contem- 
plated by Catullus. According to Parthenias, the poet's meaning is, that 
the fair complexion of the bride looks as beautiful through her yellow 
marriage veil, as the white blossom of the parthenice does beside the 
yellow poppy. Dr. Nott thinks this interpretation ingenious, but un- 
sound, for, he says, " When the bride is in bed {uxor in thalamo est) we 
must suppose the flammeum or veil thrown aside ; there is then no apt- 
ness in the comparison, which evidently relates to her blooming counten- 
ance (o« Jhrididum') : I should rather think luteus was meant to express 
a colour bordering on red. We are very ignorant of the true meaning of 
liattn words that have a reference to colours." Admitted ; but luteus is 
one of the least ambiguous words of its class, and is decidedly more sug- 
gestive of jaundice tiian of the roseate hue of youthful beauty. And 
why must we suppose that the act of removing the bride's veil was not a 
pleasure and a privilege reserved for the bridegroom himself, as is the 
custom among some oriental nations to this day ? In the celebrated 
Aldobrandini fresco-painting, found in the baths of Titus, the bride is 
seated veiled on a bed, with the promiba or biidesmatron near her, whilst 
the bridegroom sits at the foot of the bed. 



it is not meet that so ancient a name should be without ehil- 
di'en, but that heirs to it tehould be engendered evermore.' 

I long to see a little Torquatus,^ stretching out his tender 
hands from his mother's bosom, smile sweetly at his father 
with little lips half-opened. 

May he be like his father Manlius, and easily recognised by 
every stranger, so that he shall attest his mother's chastity 
with his face. 

And may a fair repute approve his birth from his good 
mother, such a rare fame as devolved from his excellent 
mother on Telemachus, the son of Penelope. 

Close the doors, virgins ; ' we have sported enough. And 

' Engendered,'] Indidem semper ingenerari. The word indidem is not 
superfluous ; it emphasizes the wish that the heirs should be of the same 
race, not adopted from other families. 
^ A little I'orqtmtus.] Parvulus Torquatus. 

Si quis mihi parvulus aul^ 
Luderet .lEneas, qui te tantum ore referret; 
says Virgil's Dido : but there the parallel necessarily ceased ; the charm- 
ing image which accompanies the same wish in Catullus, could not be 
expressed by the forsaken queen. Bia'cca, the Italian translator, has been 
happy in his version of this passage : 

M' auguro de' Torquati un figlio erede 
Veder scherzando della madre in seno, 
Con la tenera man cercar le poppe ; 
E con la bocca ridente e mezza aperta, 
Quasi Toglia parlar, volgersi al padre. 
It has been thus imitated by Sir William Jones : 
And soon, to be completely blest, 

Soon may a young Torquatus rise, 
Who, hanging on his mother's breast, 

To his known sire shall turn his eyes, 
Outstretch his infant arms awhile, 
Half ope his little lips and smile. 
' Close the doors, mrgina.l The virgins addressed are those who accom- 
panied the bride in the procession. Some suppose, however, that the 
Muses are meant, and cite in favour of that opinion Ovid's distich, X ■ 
Conscius ecce duos accepit lectus amantes ; 
Ad thalami clausas, Musa, resists fores. 
" The conscious bed has received the loving pair ; halt, Muse, before the 
closed door of the bridal chamber." 

This epithalamium, says Noel, is incontestably the paragon of all 
poems of its kind. Those who would compare it with oUiers, may 
refer to Seneca's tragedy of Medea for the epithalamium of Jason 
and Creusa, chanted by the chorus ; to Statins, for that of Stella and 


now live happily, well-matehed pair, and exercise unceasingly 
the functions of your lusty youth. 


Hesperus is here, arise, youths, together; Hesperus^ is 
just now lifting his long-expected light in the heavens. It is 
now time to rise, and leave the rich tahles. Now will the 
virgin come ; now let the hymenaeal song be raised. Hymen, 
Hymen, hither, Hymen ! 


Virgins, do you see the youths ? Eise up against them. 
Doubtless the evening star shows its CEtaaan fires.^ It is so 
indeed. Do you see how swiftly they -have rushed forth? 
■They have not rushed forth for nothing; ihey will sing what 
it is for you to surpass. Hymen, Hymen, hither. Hymen ! 


No easy triumph awaits us, comrades. Look how the vir- 
gins muse and meditate together; nor do they meditate in 
vain ; they have found something worthy of memory. We 
have divided our attention, giving our minds to one thing, our 
ears to another;^ justly therefore shall we be defeated; vic- 

Violantella ; and to Claudian, for that of Honorius and Marca, the 
daughter of Stilicho. The modem Latin poets have frequently employed 
themselves upon this subject. A great number of specimens will be found 
in the Delicitn. I \vill only mention two : Buchanan's epithalamium on 
Francis II. and the unfortunate Mary Stuart, and one by another Scot, 
Thom. Rhoedus. The former is remarkable for grandeur of thought and 
pomp of style ; the other for the elaborate oddity of its libertine allusions. 

' Nuptial SongS] This is an epithalamium as well as the preceding 
poem, but there is no evidence to support the ccgijecture of Achilles 
Statius that it was made on the same marriage. 

' Hesperris.'] The evening star. Its rising was the signal for conduct- 
ing the bride in procession to the bridegroom's house. 

' CEtaan fires.} Eising from Mount GEta in Thessaly. 

* We have divided, &c.] Nos alio mentes, alio divisimus aures. Dr. 
Nott understands this to mean, We have suffered our attention to be 
diverted from , the matter in hand, by the beauty and the sweet voices of 
the virgins. But the words cannot possibly admit of such a construction. 
The Delphin editor's interpretation is. We direct our minds to one thing, 
our ears to another ; and this brings us half-way to the clearer explana- 
' E 2 


tory favours diligence. Wherefore, now at least apply your 
minds to your task; the virgins will presently begin their 
strain ; you will presently Jiave to reply. Hymen, Hymen, 
hither, Hymen! 


Hesperus, what more cruel light does heaven bear than 
thine ? who canst tear the child from her mother's embrace, 
tear from her mother's embrace the child that clings fast to 
it,' and bestow the chaste girl on a hot youth. What worse 
than this could enemies do in a captured city ? Hymen, Hy- 
men, hither. Hymen ! 


Hesperus, what more cheerful light shines in heaven than 
thine ?. who ratifiest with thy beams the compacts of wed- 
lock which' lovers and parents have previously made, but 
which they never fulfil before thy fires have risen. What is 
there in the gift of the gods more desirable than that blissful 
hour ? Hymen, Hymen, hither. Hymen ! 


Hesperus has taken from us one of our companions.^ » * * * 
At thy appearance the wakeful guard is set, spoilers^ always 
prowl by night, and often, Hesperus, returning with an altered 
name,^ thou catchest them still in the fact. Hymen, Hymen, 
hither, Hymen ! 

tion given by Vulpius, namely, that the young men, having to improvise 
their responses, must i>ttend to what the virgins sing, and think at the 
same time of what they shall reply. 

' Clings to it.'] This is not merely a metaphorical expression. It was 
a part of the established etiquette of the marriage procession, that it 
should begin with forcing away the daughter, whilst she pretended to 
cling to her mother .with all her might. This custom is said to have been 
instituted in commemoration of the rape of the Sabinea. 

' There is here a line lost of the original : its import must have been 
to charge Hesperus with furtive propensities, proof of which is offered in 
the lines that follow. Another hiatus at the end of the virgins' part, pro- 
bably involves rio more than the burden. 

' Spoilers.'] Fv/res, thieves, meaning lovers; for by almost every 
Latin poet, lovers are called fures, and amours furta. 

* Altered name.] The same planet that at night is called Hesperus, 
is in the morning called Phosphorus or Lucifer. It is the first star to 
rise, and the last to set. 



The virgins are pleased to attack thee with feigned re- 
proaches. What if they attack whom they in their secret 
hearts desire ? Hymen, Hymen, hither, Hymen ! 


As a flower grows sequestered in a fenced garden, unknown 
to the cattle, bruised by no ploughshare, whilst the breezes 
freshen it, the sun gives it strength, and the shower nourishes 
it ; many a youth, many a girl covets it. But when plucked 
from its tender stem and faded, no youths, no girls covet it. 
So whilst the virgin remains untouched, she is dear to her 
kindred ; but when she has lost her chaste flower from her 
polluted body, she remains no longer pleasing to youths, nor 
dear to maids.' Hymen, Hymen, hither, Hymen ! 

^ As a flower, &c.] This exquisite passage has been imitated times 
without number, but by no poet so closely as by Ariosto, cant. i. 42. 

La verginella fe simile alia rosa, 

Che 'n bel giardin su la nativa spina, 

Mentre sola, e sicura si riposa, 

Ne gregge, nfe pastor se le aTvicina ; 

L' aura soave, e 1' alba rugiadosa, 

L' acq^ua, la terra al suo favor s' inchina . 

Giovini vaghi, e donne innamorate 

Amano aveme e seni, e tempie ornate. 

Ma non si tosto dal materno stelo 

Rimossa viene, e dal suo ceppe verde, 

Che, quantb avea da gli uomini, el dal cielo, 

Favor, grazia, e bellezza, tutto perde. 

La vergine, che '1 fior, di che piu zelo 

Che de' begli occhi, e deUa vita, aver dfe, 

Lascia altrui corre, il pregio, ch' avea innanti, 

Perde nel cor di tutti gli altri amanti. 
Tasso has certainly had Catullus in view, while drawing a different moral 
from the same subject : 

Deh ! inira (egli canto) spuntar la rosa 

Dal verde suo modesta, e verginella, 

Che mezzo aperta ancora, e mezzo ascosa, 

Quanto si mostra men tanto fe piii bella 

Ecco poi nudo it sen gia baldanzosa 

Dispiega, ecco poi languOj e non par quella, 

Quella non par, che desiata avanti 

Fu da mille donzelle, e mille amanti. 



As the unwedded vine which grows in a naked field, never 
lifts its head, never matures a mellow grape, but bending 
prone its tender body under its own weight, touches its top- 
most shoot with its root ; no hinds, no herdsmen cherish it ; 
but if perchance it be united with a husband elm, many hinds, 
many herdsmen cherish it : so the virgin, whilst she remains 
untouched, grows old, uncared for ; when she has secured a 
fit union in due season, she is dearer to her spouse, and less 
irksome to her parent. 


Then offer no resistance, virgin, to such a spouse as thine. 
It is not right to resist one to whom thy father has given thee, 
thy father himself with thy mother whom thou must obey. 
Thy virginity is not wholly thine own ; it is partly thy pa- 
rents'. One third of it belongs to thy father, another to thy 

Cosi trapassa al trapassar d' un giorno 
Delia vita mortale il ftore, e 'I verde, 
Ne perche facoia in dietro april ritorno 
Si rinfiori ella mai, ne si renverde. 
Cogliam la rosa in su '1 mattino adorno 
Di questo dJ, clie tosto il seren perde, 
Cogliam d' amor la rosa : amiamo or, quando 
Esser si puote riamato amando. 
Tlius exquisitely rendered by Spencer, Faery Queen, b. ii. c. 12 : 

The ■whiles some one did chaunt this lovely lay : 

" Ah ! see, whoso fayre thing doest faine to see, 
In springing flowre the image of thy day ! 

All ! see the virgin rose, how sweetly she 

Doth first peepe foorth with bashful! modestie, 
That fairer seemes the lesse ye see her may ! 

Lo see soone after how more bold and free 
Her bared bosome she doth broad display ; 
Lo ! see soone after how she fades and falls away ! 
" So passeth, in the passing of a day, 

Of mortal life the leafe, the bud, the flowre ; 
Ne more doth flourish after flrst decay. 

That grst was sought to deck both bed and bowre 

Of many a lady, and many a paramoure ! 
Gather therefore the rose whilest yet is prime, 

For soone comes age that will her pride deflowre ; 
Gather the rose of love whilest yet is time, 
Whilest loving thou mayst loved be with equal crime." 


mother, the remaining third alone is thine : do not strive 
against two parents who have bestowed their own rights 
along with thy dower on their son-in-law. Hymen, Hymen, 
Tiither Hymen ! 


Borne over thd dpep seas in a swift bart, Atys eagerly 
touched the 'Phrygian forest with hurried foot, and went to 
the gloomy, wood-covered grounds of the goddess; where, 
goaded by raging madness, he emasculated himself with a 
sharp flint. 

So when he found his limbs bereft of manhood, and while 
stiU spotting the ground with fresh blood, this new-made ivo- 
man ^ hurriedly took in her snowy hands the light timbrel, 
the timbrel and the trumpet ^ proper to thy initiatory rites, 
mighty mother Cybele, and, shaking the hollow bull's liide in 
her tender fingers, she began, quivering with excitement, to 
sing thus to her followers : 

" Come, speed ye together, Gallse,^ to Cybele's deep forests ; 

' Atya.'] This poem, unique in subject and in metre, is spoken of by- 
Gibbon -with enthusiasm. " Perhaps," says Ramsay, " the greatest of 
all our poet's works is the Atys, one of the most remarkable poems in 
the whole range of Latin literature. Rolling impetuously along in a flood 
of wild passion, bodied forth in the grandest imagery and the noblest 
diction, it breathes in every line the frantic spirit of orgiastic worship, 
the fiery vehemence of the Greek dithyramb." It is the only specimen 
we have in Latin ^ the Galliambio measure ; so called because sung by 
the Galli, the emaSulated votaries of Cybele. The Romans under the 
republic, being a more sober and severe people than the Greeks, gave less 
encouragement than they to the celebration of orgiastic rites, such as 
those of Bacchus and Cybele, and have left few examples of dithyrambic 

' This new-made woman.'] These words are a prosaic substitute for 
the abrupt transition to the feminine gender, which is so striking in the 

^ Timbrel.'] Tympanum. An instrument like the moc^m tambourine, 
but without Its jingling metallic appendages. The Cymhabam was a small 
cup-like brazen instrument with a handle. Vossius reads tympanum 
t«io»8, without a comma interposed, and understands the passage to 
mean, " the tympanum which serves in lieu of a trumpet in the mys- 
teries of Cybele." This reading is authorized by Suidas, who says ex- 
pressly, that the onl; ^ inst ruments used in those rites were the tympanum 
and JlagelluTn. 

* GalliB.] Catullus substitutes the feminine form Gall<B for the mascu- 


speed ye together, roving cattle of the mistress of Dindymus ; ' 
who seeking foreign lands, like exiles, following my sect, led 
by me, have borne as my comrades the rapid salt-sea wave, 
the fierceness of the deep, and have unmanned your bodies 
in intense hatred of Venus ; gladden your souls with frenzied 
excitement ; let dull delay begone from your minds ; speed 
ye together ; follow to the Phrygian' home of Cybele, to the 
goddess's Phrygian forests, where the cymbals resound, where 
the timbrels roar aloud, where the Phrygian flutist drones on 
the curved pipe, where the ivy-crowned Maenades^ wildly 
toss their heads, where they ply their hallowed mysteries 
with piercing yells ; where that roving train of the goddesses 
is wont to run to and fro, thither it befits us to hasten in 
quick-step dancing measure." 

When Atys, the new-made woman, thus sang to her mates, 
the whole rout^ forthwith yelled with quivering tongues, the 
light timbrel booms, the hollow cymbals clash, and up to 
Ida goes the impetuous rout with hurried steps ; with them 
goes Atys with her timbrel, raving, panting, like one lost 
and demented, and leads the way through the murky forests, 
like an. unbroke heifer shunning the burthen of the yoke. 
Swiftly the Gallse follow their ha,sty-footed leader.* So when 
they reach the home of Cybele, wearied with excessive exer- 
tion, they fall asleep fasting. Heavy sleep covers their droop- 
ing eyes with languor, and their raving phrensy subsides in 
soft repose. 

line Gain, the ordinary name of the emasculated prie^ of Cybele. They 
■were so called from Gallus, a river aof Phrygia, the water of which mad- 
dened those who drank it. 

' Dindymus.'] A part of Mljunt Ida, sacred to Cyhele.- 

^ Mcenades.'] Women devoted to the service of Bacchus or of Cybele ; 
for many things were common to the rites of both deities. The name is 
derived from fiaiviaBai, to rave. 

' TTie whole rout.'j Thiasus is properly a chorus of sacred singers and 
dancers, living in community, like a college of dervishes, who, indeed, 
are an exact counterpart of the Galli as regards their howling and dancing 
ritual, but have the advantage of their predecessors in one important 

1 Hasty-footed leader.'] We adopt the suggestion of Vossius, who ob- 
jects to the tautology of the common reading, Mapidte duoem segwuntur 
Galla propero pede. For propero pede he substitutes properipedem, which, 
as he further observes, is more conformable to the style of this poem, in 
which Catullus affects the use of compound words, such as hederigerce, 
aonipedibus, herifugce, sylvicultrix, nemorivagus, &o. 


But when the sun surveyed with the radiant eyes of his 
golden face the aether, and the firm land, and the wild sea, 
and chased the shades of night with his sonorous-footed steeds, 
then Sleep swiftly fled from awakened Atys, and the divine 
Pasithea ' received the fugitive to her bosom. So when, her 
madness allayed by soothing rest, Atys reflected on her own 
acts, and saw with lucid mind what she had lost, and where 
she was, again with surging soul she retraced her way to the 
shore. There, gazing on the vast sea with streaming eyes, the 
sorrowing wretch thus piteously apostrophized her native land. 

" My country ! O creatress, parent country ! which I, 
wretch, forsaking, as fugitive slaves forsake their masters, 
fled to the forests of Ida, to dwell amid snow and the chill 
dens of wild beasts, and to roam frantically among all their 
lairs ! Where, in what quarter, shall I now deem thee placed, 
my country ? My very eyeball longs to turn its rays to thee, 
whilst my mind is for a brief while free from fierce delirium. 
Must I roam these woods remote from my own home ? Must 
I dwell far away from my country, from all I possess, from 
my friends, my parents ; far from the forum, the palsestra, the 
stadium, and the gymnasia ?^ wretched, wretched soul ! for 
ever and for ever must I wail. For what kind of form is 
there that I have not worn ? I have been man,^ youth, strip- 
ling, boy. I was the flower of the gymnasium and the pride 
of the wrestling ground. My gate, my hospitable threshold 
was thronged, my home was hung ^ith flowery chaplets,* when 

■ ' PasitheaS] One of the three Graces, whom Juno bestowed in mar- 
riage on the god of sleep for exerting his power over Jupiter, while Juno 
was assisting the Trojans. 

" The forum, &c.] Atys enumerates the recreations of his manhood : 
the public spectacles of the forum ; the wrestling ground (paltestra) ; the 
race course (stadium); and the schools for gymnastic exercises. 

' A man.J Fvher. We adopt without hesitation this amended reading 
of Scaliger's instead of mulier, which is irreconcilable with the general 
tenor 6f the passage. 

' Hung with flowery chaplets-l It was customary with lovers to hang 
garlands before the doors of the beloved. See TibuUus, book i. El. ii. 
There are some beautiful lines on this subject by a modern poet, Angeri- 
anus, translated by Moore : 

Ante fores madidse sic sic pendete coroUse, 

Mane orto imponet Cselia vos capiti ; 
At quum per niveam cervicem influxerit humor, 
Dicite, non roris sed pluvia hiEC lacrymse. 


I had to leave my couch at sunrise. Mast I rank as a vota- 
ress of the gods, as Cybele's bondsmaid ? Must I be a Maenas, 
a part of myself, a sterile man ? Must I dwell in green Ida's 
snow-clad regions, and pass my life under the lofty peaks of 
Phrygia, where dwell the sylvan stag, and the forest-ranging 
boar ? Now do I grieve, now do I repent what I have done." 

When these sounds escaped her rosy lips,' then Cybele, un- 
yoking the lions from her chariot, and pricking the left hand 
foe of the herd, thus speaks : " Up, fierce beast, up, she says ; 
go, hence with him, in madness, make him return hence, smit- 
ten with madness, into the forest, who audaciously desires to 
fly from my sway. Up ! beat thy flanks with thy tail ; lash 
thyself; make the whole region resound with thy roaring. 
Toss fiercely thy tawny mane on thy brawny neck." — So said 
terrific Cybele, and unfastened the yokes with her hand. The 
beast, inciting himself, pricks up his impetuous spirit, runs, 
roars, and breaks down the bushes in his headlong course. 
But when he reached the verge of the foam-whitened shore, 
and saw soft Atys near the breakers, he made a rush. The 
bewildered wretch fled into the wild forest, and there he re- 
mained all his life long a bondsmaid ^ to Cybele. 

Goddess, mighty goddess, goddess lady of Dindymus, far 
from my house be all thy fury, dread mistress : goad others 
to such rage ; madden others ; but leave me free. 


Pines that grew on Mount Pelion are said to have swum 
through Neptune's liquid waves to the banks of the river 

By Caelia's arbour all the night 

Hang, humid wreath, the lover's vow ; 
And haply, at the morning light, 

My love shall twine thee round her brow. 
Then, if upon her bosom bright 

Some drops of dew shall fall from thee, 
Tell her, they are not drops of night, 
But tears of sorrow shed by me. 
' Tlosy lips.l The line beginning Geminaa Deorum is condemned as 
spurious by the best commentators. We have not translated it. 

" A bondsmaid.'] Famtda. This mingling of two genders in the same 
sentence exists in the original. . 
' T/ie Marriage of Peleus and Thetis.'] This longest and most elaborate 


Phasis ' and the ^etsean confines ; when chosen youngj men, 
the flower of the stout Argive youth, desiring to carW off 
the Golden Fleece^ from Colchis, dared to traverse the sMt 
seas in a fleet ship, sweeping the azure plains with oars of fir. 
The goddess who holds the citadels in the high places of 
towns,' herself made for them the chariot that flew with a 
light ' breath of wind, connecting the knitted pine timbers * 
with the curved keel. That ship first acquainted inexperi- 
enced Amphi trite* with navigation. As soon as it clove the 
windy sea with its prow, and the oar-tortured wave grew 
white with foam, wild faces emerged out of the whitening 
deep, namely, the marine Nereids, wondering at the prodigy;^ 
on that day, and no other, mortal eyes saw sea-nymphs with 
naked bodies exposed to the breasts from out the hoary wa- 
ters. Then Peleus is said to have been inflamed with love 
for Thetis ; then Thetis did not despise human nuptials ; then 
father Jove himself consented that Peleus should be united 
to Thetis.'' 

O heroes born in that happier age, hail, progeny of gods ! 

of the poems of Catullus has been erroneously styled an Epithalamium, 
for no other reason than because it treats of a marriage. We might be 
content to reject the misnomer in silence, were it not that it has been 
made the pretext for some very silly criticism, according to which we are 
to regard the poem as altogether void of method and symmetry, a mere 
tissue of splendid faults -, and this because its structure does not conform 
to that of the epithalamium, a species of composition with which it has 
Jio sifiinity. It is wonderful how much there is in a name. Call the 
,, poem, with Gurlitt, a small Epos, which it really is, and you take away 
I all ground for objection, especially as to the length of the episode of 
■Ariadne, which no man of taste would wish to short-en by a single line; 

' Phasis^^ A river of Colchis, up which the Argonauts sailed to the 
capital of king ^etes, the father of Medea. 

- Golden Fleece.'] The expedition of the Argonauts to rob jEetas, king 
of Colchis, of the golden fleece, is narrated by Ovid, and is, the subject of 
ii Greek poem by Apollonius Ehodius, and of a Latin poem by Valerius 

= The goddess, &c,] Minerva. 

' Knitted pine timbers^ Pinea texta. To build ships is in Latin texere 
naves ; and the shipbuilder's yard is textrinum. 

' Amphitrite.l The wife of Neptune, .here put for the sea. 
, ', « IVondering at the prodigy.'] The reader of the original will not fail 
to note the fine effect produced by making admirantes the ending of a 
spondaic hexameter. 

' Jove consented, &c.] Jupiter had himself intended to marry Thetis, 
but, learning- from Prometheus that she was fated to b^ear a son who should 
Bciipse the glory of his father, he bestowed her on his grandson Peleus. 


good mother ' of the brave! Often will I invoke thee in my 
song ; and thee too so surpassingly honoured by thy happy 
marriage, Thessalia's bulwark, Peleus, to whom Jupiter him- 
self, the father of the gods himself, resigned his love. Did 
Thetis, fairest daughter of Neptune, accept thee? Did 
Tethys grant thee to wed her grandchild, and did Oceanus 
consent, who embraces the whole globe with the sea ? 

Now when in due time the longed-for day was come, all 
Thessaly thronged to the abode of Peleus; the palace is filled 
by the joyous assemblage ; they bring presents ; and declare 
with their faces the gladness of their hearts. Scyros is deserted ; 
they leave Phthian Tempe, and Cranon's homes and the walls 
of Larissa ; they flock to Pharsalia,^ and throng the Pharsa- 
lian halls. No one tills the lands ; the callous necks of the 
steers are left to soften ; the low vine is not cleared from 
weeds with rakes ; no bull tears up the glebe with the prone 
plough ; no pruner's hook thins the trees' shady boughs ; 
squalid rust overspreads the deserted ploughshares. 

But the mansion, in every part of its opulent interior, 
glitters with shining gold and silver ; white are the ivory 
seats ; goblets gleam on the tables ; the whole dwelling re- 
joices in the splendour of regal wealth. In the midst of the 
mansion is placed the genial couch of the goddess, inlaid 
wjth polished Indian tooth, and covered with purple dyed with 
the shell's rosy juice. This coverlet, diversified with figures 
of the men of yore, portrays the virtues of heroes with won- 
drous art.^ 

' Good mother.'] The ship Argo, poetically called the mother of her 
valiant crew. 

' Scyros, &c.] An island in the -SIgean, off the coast of Thessaly. 
The celebrated vale of Tempe in Thessaly is called Phthiotica from the 
neighbouring city of Phthia, or from Phthiotis, the region to which the 
city belongs. Cranon and Larissa were towns of Thessaly. Pharsalus, 
where stood the palace of Peleus, is well known as the scene of the 
battle between Csesar and Pompey. 

' This coverlet, diversified, &g.] The tapestry comprised two pictures, 
each of which represented a scene in tlie history of Ariadne, which the 
poet now proceeds to expound. We are to imagine him standing by the 
picture, and explaining to the admiring crowd not only the incidents 
actually portrayed, but also their causes and consequences ; and hence 
we account for the words ferunt, perhibent, and so forth, which occur 
throughout the narrative. In the first compartment Ariadne is seen just 
at the moment when she has discovered her lover's perfidy, and stands 
petrified by the shock, saxea ut effigies bacchantis. 


For, gazing from the -wave-sounding shore of Dia,' Ari- 
adne,^ her heart filled with- unconquered rages, beholds The- 
seus departing with his swift ship ;^ nor does she yet believe 
that she sees what she does see,* as but just awakened from 
her treacherous sleep she finds herself wretched and deserted 
on the lonely sands. But the ungrateful youth, flying from 
her, smites the sea with his oars, abandoning his vain pro- 
mises to the stormy winds. ''"With sad eyes the daughter of 
Minos, like a stone image of a Maenad yelling Evoe, gazes on 
him speeding far from the weedy strand, and she heaves with 
great waves of sorrow. No more she retains the slender fiUet 
on her yellow hair ; no more the light veil conceals her 
bosom; no more the smooth cincture* binds her struggling 

' Dia.] Naxos, the divine island, 5ia, sacred to Bacchus, is generally- 
held to have been the scene of Ariadne's desertion ; but -Vossius contends 
that the Dia in question -was an islet near Crete, no-w called Standia. His 
arguments, ho-wever, have very little weight. 

" Ariadne.'] For the sake of brevity -we will here compress together the 
leading facts connected -with the story of Theseus and Ariadne. The 
Athenians having joined in the murder of Androgeus, son of Minos, king 
of Crete, the latter made war on them, and compelled them to send every 
year to Crete seven youths and as many virgins to be devoured by the 
Minotaur. This monster was the fruit of an unnatural passion which 
Pasjphae, the daughter of the Sun, and the wife of Minos, had conceived 
for a bull. Daedalus, who had lent his mechanical skill to the fulfilment 
of the queen's desires, built the famous labyrinth to conceal her half- 
human, half-brute offspring. Theseus, son of ^geus, king of Athens, 
slew the monster, and made his way out of the labyrinth by means of a 
-clue supplied to him by Ariadne, one of the two daughters of Minos and 
Pasiphae. Theseus then departed for his home, taking with him Ariadne, 
who was accompanied by her sister Phaedra ; but he deserted the former 
at Naxos, and took the latter to Athens as his bride. Catullus, however, 
omits this part of the story, and says expressly that Ariadne left her sister 
behind when she fled from Crete.' 

' Swift ship.] Classis must here stand for a single ship, for a fleet was 
not requisite to convey to Crete the tribute of fourteen human victims. 

* Nor does she yet believe, &c.] The true reading of this line is very 
uncertain ; we have adopted that proposed by -Vossius. Achilles Statins 
-would read Needum etiam. sese qua sit turn credidit esse, " Nor does she 
yet believe that she is herself." 

' Cincture.] The strophium was a band which confined the breasts 
and restrained the exuberance of their growth. Martial apostrophizes 

it thus : 

Fascia, crescentes dominse..compesce papiUas, 

Ut sit quod capiat nostra tegatque manus. 
" Confine the growth of my fair one's breasts, that they may be just large 
eifciugh for my hand to enclose thpm." 



breasts ; the salt wave sports with them all, draped from 
her body, and scattered at her feet. But thinking neither of 
iillet, nor of floating veil, lost and undoije, she was intent on 
thee, Theseus, with her whole heart, and soul, and mind. 
Ah wretched Ariadne, whom Venus doomed to distracting 
sorrows,' implanting thorny cares in thy bosom, what time 
cruel Theseus, issuing from the curved shores of the Pirseus,^ 
reached the Gortynian^ abode of the unjust king. ' ' 

For ancient legends tell that, compelled by-adire pestdence 
to atone for the murder of Androgeos, the Cecropian city^ 
was wont to present choice youths and fairest virgins as food 
for the Minotaur. Seeing that the little city was thus afflicted, 
Theseus desired to sacrifice his own body for his dear Athens, 
rather than that such unfuneralled funerals^ of Athens should 
be carried to Crete. Borng^ therefore in a fleet ship by 
gentle winds, he canje to the arrogant "^ Minos and his superb 
abode. There as soon as the royal virgin beheld him with 
desiring eye, she whom the chaste bed, breathing sweet 
odours, cherished jin her mother's soft embrace, lovely as the 
myrtles which the waters of Eurotas' rea^, or the various- 
coloured flowers which the breath of spring brings forth; 
she did not take her glistening eyes off him until her whole 
bosom was thoroughly on fire, and she burned to her inmost 
marrow. Alas ! divine boy, ^ho confoundest together human 
joys and sorrows, with ruthless heart exciting wretched mor- 
tals to frenzy, and thou who rulest G-olgos, and the evergreeil 
^dalium,* on what billows ye tossed that soul-kindled maiden, 

' Doomed to distracting sorrows."] Extemavit,-^nt teside thyself. 

" PirtBws.']- The harbour of Athens, but mentioned here with poetic 
independence of liistorical fact, for it was not made a naval station until 
the.time of Themistocles. 

' Qortt/nian.'] Gortyna, a. city of Crete. 

* Cecropian city.]: Athens, founded by Cecrops. i,jSi, 

' Unfuneralled funerals.] Funera nefwnera : a Greek form of ^jl^i; 
sion, frequently imitated in Latin. 

' Arrogant.] Magnanimum. Doering justly observes that this epithet 
must here be understood in a bad sense. 

' Eii/roias.] The river of Sparta. 

' Idalium.] Lambe's note on this passage is judicious. " Venus? 
says, " is not mentioned merely as the goddess of love, as seems tol 
been conceived by most commentators. Pasiphae, Ariadne's mother.^i 
the daughter of the Sun and Perseis, one of the Oceanides ; and Vsriiw'' 
persecuted all the descendants of Apollo, because that god discovered iax 
amour with Mars. This is finely alluded to in the Phedre-of Racine : \t. 


often sighing for the yellow-haired stranger ! What fears she 
endured in her fainting heart ! How often did she grow wan- 
ner than the sheen of gold ! When Theseus, eager to contend 
with the dread monster, was about to encounter death or the 
glory of victory, then did she timidly frame vows with silent 
lip,' promising gifts to the gods, gifts not unacceptable to them, 
but offered unprofitably for herself. For as an irresistible 
whirlwind tears up an oak that shakes its branches on the 
summit of Taurus, or a cone-bearing pine with oozing stem, 
twisting the trunk with its blast ; uprooted it falls prone, 
covering a wide space, and breaking all beneath it far and 
near ; so Theseus prostrated the carcase of the vanquished 
monster, vainly tossing its horns to the empty air. Thence 
he returned safely with great renown, directing his wander- 
ing steps by a slender thread, that the' indistinguishable maze 
inight not baffle his attempt to issue from its labyrinthine 

But why, digressing from my first subject, need I tell more ? 
How the daughter, forsaking her father's fac^, forsaking the 
embrace of her sister, and even of her mother, who wept in 
despair for her child, gladly preferred the sweet love of Theseus 
to them all ? Or how their ship was borne to the foamy shores 
of Dia ? Or how her husband) departing with ungrateful 
breast, left her with her eyes closed in calamitous sleep ? Often, 
'tis said, with a heart on fire with rage, she sent out shrill 
shrieks in gushes^ from the bottom of her breast ; then sadly 
climbed the precipitous mountains, whence she could stretch 
forth her gaze over the wide billows ; then ran into the oppos- 
ing wiives of the agitated sea, lifting up the soft coverings from 
her bared leg,^ and with streaming face and shivering sobs, 
uttered these words in the extremity of her. woe : 

' O haine de Venus ! O fatale colfere ! 
Dans quels ^garemens 1' amour jeta ma m6re ! 
Ariane, ma soeur ! De quel amour bless^e,' &c." 
^ Timidly frame vows, &c.] TcuAto suspendit vota laiello. This is an 
uncommon and beautiful use of the word suspendit, the meaning of which 
may be deduced from the familiar phrase pedem suspendere, to'tread cau- 
tiously, as if one feared to set one foot before the other. Ariadne durst 
aot breathe a syllable of the wishes of her heart. 
* In giishes.] Fiidisse. 

" Lifting, &c.J Nott quotes with approval the remark made on this 
passage by ap English annotator on TibuUus, who notes as " a fine stroke 


" Is it thus, perfidious ! thou hast left me, borne away from my 
native shores, left me, perfidious Theseus ! on the desert strand? 
Is it thus thou departest, in contempt of the gods, ingrate ! and 
carriest home thy perjuries and the curses that cling to them ? ' 
Could nothing change the purpose of thy cruel mind ? Was 
there no mercy about thee, that thy ruthless breast might haye 
pity on me ? But not such were the promises thou gavest me 
formerly ; this was not what thou badest me, miserable girl, 
to expect, but joyful union, happy rites, of wedlock ; — all idle 
words scattered by the winds ! Henceforth let no woman believe 
man's oaths ; let none hope that a man's words are trusty ; for 
whilst their lusting minds are bent on obtaining, they shrink 
from no oaths, they spare no promises ; but as soon as their 
lustful desire is satiated, they have no fear to break their 
words, they care nothing, for perjury. Surely I rescued thee 
when thou wast in the midst of the vortex of death, and re- 
solved rather to lose my brother than to fail thee, treacherous 
as thou art, in that supreme moment. For this 1 shall be 
given as a prey to be torn asunder by wild- beasts and birds, 
and when dead, I shall remain unentombed, with no earth cast 
upon my body. "What lioness gave thee birth under some lonely 
rock? What sea conceived and spat thee forth from her 
foaming waves ? What Syrtis, what greedy Scylla, what vast 
Charybdis, bore thee, who jeturnest such rewards for sweet 
life ? If thou wast averse to wedlock with me because thoa 
didst abhor the cruel edicts of my stern father,^ yet thou 
mightest have taken me to thy (Jwelling, and I would have 
served thee as a handmaid' with cheerful labour, bathing thy 

of genius " this picture of " Ariadne ijinning into the sea, as though to 
catch Theseus, who was sailing off." And then in the very next sentence 
he tells us that the " coverings " of which she bared her legs were her 
buskins ! Instead of instinctively catching up the robe that impeded her 
movements, an act which would have been consistent with the most im-'. 
petuous emotion, she stopped, like a thrifty girl, to take off her best bus- 
kins, lest the salt water should spoil them ! 

' Perjuries and the curses, &c.] Devota polyuria, perjuries that are 
diris obnoxia, that infer the wrath of the gods. 

^ Stem father.l Pnsci ; one whose cast of mind retains the primitive 
harshness of earlier times. 

^ Served thee as a handmaid-l Larabe quotes from the old ballad of 
Childe Waters, in Percy's collection, a simple but pathetic parallel tc*, , 
this touching passage : 

" To-morrow, Ellen, I must forth ride 
Farr into the north countrie ; 


■white feet with limpid water, or spreading the purple coverlet 

on thjched. — -^==vW- : '- '■ 

" But why, beside myself with woe, do I complain in Vain 
to the ignorant winds, which being endowed with no senses, 
can neither hear uttered words,' nor return any ? He is now 
nearly mid-way on the sea, and no mortal appears on the 
vacant beach. Thus cruel fortune, too much insulting me 
in my last moments, grudges even ears to hear my lamenta- 
tions. Almighty Jove, would that neither in the beginning 
the Cecropian ships had touched the Gnossian shores ; nor that 
the perfidious mariner had ever unmoored for Crete, bringing 
dire tribute to the unconquered bull ; nor that yon bad man, 
concealing cruel purposes under a winning forifl, had rested 
as a guest in our abode ! For whither shall I betake myself? 
On what hope shall I, undone, rely ?' Shall I seek the Cretan 
mountains ? But the fierce severing sea divides me from them 
with its wide expanse. Can I hope for aid from my father, 
whom I left of my own accord to follow" the . yout'h stained 
with my brother's gore? Can I console myself with the 
trusty love of a husband who flees from me, bending his 
pliant oars in the deep? If I pass from the shore, the 
lonely island is without a roof ; nor is there any exit opeA 
from it, encompassed as it is "by the waves. There is no 
means of' escape, no hope ; all around is silence and desolation ;, 
all around is death. Not however shall my eyes languish in 
death, nor shall my senses depart from my weary body, before 
I implore from the gods a just penalty for my betrayal, and 
invoke the faith of the celestials in my last hour. Wherefore,_ 
ye who visit the deeds of men with avenging chastisement, 
Eumenides, whose brows, covered with serpents for hairs, be- 
speak the wrath that exhales from your breasts,' hither, 

.The fairest lady that I can find, 

Ellen, must goe with me." 
" Though I am not that lady fayre, 

Yet let me goe with thee ; 
And ever, I pray you, Childe Waters, 
Your foot-page let me bee." 
• Wrath that exhales.'] Expirantis pectoris iras : literally,, 
of . . .i expiring breast." That Is, as we understand it, 
breasts, or, according to Elton, " my" breast, i. c. Ariadne's 
phin editor absurdly interprets the passage as meaning "1* 
covered, iSc, tyiiify.the anguish of the dying man." 


hitherispeed ye, hear my wailings, which I, how wretched ! am 
forced, helpless, with burning brain, blind with raving mad- 
ness, to ,pour out from my inmost vitals. And since they 
truly spring from the bottom of my heart, suffer hot my cries 
of agony to pass idly away ; but through that spirit which 
prompted 'Theseus to leave me forlorn, through that same 
spirit, goddesses, let him bring destruction on him and his." 

After the anguished girl, imprecating punishment on the 
cruel deeds of her betrayer, sent forth these words from her 
sad bosom, the ruler of the celestial gods assented with'his po- 
tent nod, tsrhereat the earth and the rough sea trembled, and 
the firmament shook its glittering stars. But Theseus him- 
self, seized with thick mental darkness, lost from his oblivious 
bosom all those injunctions which he before held fast in mind, 
and hoisted no glad signals for his sad father, to show that he 
was in sight of harbour safe and rescued. For they say that 
previously, when JEgeus intrusted his son to the winds, as he 
was leaving the city of the goddess Pallas with his fleet, em- 
bracing his son, he gave the young man these injunctions: ■ 

" My only son, dearer to me than long life, my son, lately 
restored to me at the end of an extreme old age,' and whom 
I am compelled to send away to dangerous adventures, sinc^ 
my ill fortune and thy hot valour tear thee away from me so 
loth to part with thee, for not yet have my dim eyes had 
enough of my son's dear face : not in joy and gladness of heart 
will I send thee away, nor will I let thee show tokens of pros- 
perous fortune ; but first I will send forth many a lamentation 
ji'om my heart, defiling my white hairs with earth and dust ; 
and then I will hang dyed sails upon the flitting mast, that so 
the Iberian canvass with its dark dye may declare my grief, and 
the burning anguish of my mind. But if the dweller on sacred 
Itone^ (who has promised us, her trusting votaries, to defend 
our race and these abodes) grants thee to stain thy right hand 
with the blood of the bull, then bi sure that these injunctions 
C^rce, stored up in thy hearjt, and that no lapse of time 
them. As soon as thine eyes behold our hills,j Fet 
drop every where their funereal clothing, and let 

\^e.siored to me.'] Theseus was born in TrcEzene, and brought 
\jj|(.tcrnal grandfather Pittheua. 

town in BcEotia, in which Pallas was especially wor- 


the twisted ropes hoist white sails, so that discerning them as 
soon as possible, I may recognise their glad tidings with joy, 
when a prosperous time- p^ts thee, returned , hpfnye^ mp " 

s clouds driven by tlie breath of the winds leave a snowy 
mountain's airy crest, so these injunctions departed from the 
memory of Theseus, who had previously retained them with 
constant mind. But his father, as he looked out from the top 
of the fortress, wasting his anxious eyes in ceaseless tears, 
when first he beheld the canvass of the inflated sail, threw 
himself headlong fron^the top of the rocks, believing that 
Theseus was lost by a cruel fate. Thus exulting Theseus, 
entering a house woe-stricken by his father's death,'' himself 
encountered such sorrow as he had inflicted by his forgetful- 
ness on the daughter of Minos S while' she, wholly r3plr**ill — 
gazedjjpan-lus--departmg''sMpj\nd heart-stricken, was agi- 
tated with manifold woes.^ — 

But on another part of the coverlet the blooming lacchus 
was hastening with his crew of Satyrs and the Nysa-reared 
Sileni, seeking thee, Ariadne, and burning with love for thee. 
{In wild joy they raved all around him, yelling Evoe, Evoe, 
and rolling their heads about. Some of them brandished 
thyrsi with ivy-covered points ; some snatched away the 
limbs of oxen torn to pieces ; some girt themselves with 
twisted serpents ; some celebrated mysterious orgies with im- 
plements contained in wicker-baskets, orgies which the unini- 
tiated vainly desire to hear. Others beat timbrels with ex- 
tended hands, or produced fine tinklings with 'the smooth brass. 
Horns yielded hoarse blasts to many, and the barbarian pipe 
droned with horrible notes.^ 

' 2%Ms exulting Theseus, &c.] We follow Vossius and Doering in their 
interpretation of this passage. Others understand it thus : Theseus, ex- 
ulting in the death of the monster, entered his -woe-stricken paternal 
dwelling, &c. 
' While she, wholly rapt, &c.] The common reading is, 
Qwce turn prospectans cedentem mcesta carinam. 
We prefer that given by Vossius on manuscript authority, 
Quos tamen aspeetans cedentem cuncta carinam. 
Theseiia had reached home, but though his ship was no longer in sight, 
she still remained with her gaze fixed on vacancy, and whoUy absorbed 
in gazing, as though the ship wa^ still before her eyes. 

" Horrible notes,'] The introduction of Bacchus closes the episode with 
an animated picture, and forms a pleasing contrast to the melancholy 

F 2 


Magnificently adorned with such figures, the coverlet con- 
cealed the bed, enfolding it with its drapery. After the 
young men of Thessaly had satisfied themselves with eagerly . 
inspecting itj_theyjiegan_tojnake room for theholy_gods. As 
Zepl^fwith his morning breatircnspng~"1ilecaim sea, when 
Aurora rises, just at the dawn of the journeying sun, stirs 
up the slanting waves, which first move slowly, urged by a 
mild breath, and sound with a gentle noise of laughter, but 
afterwards as the wind increases, grow more and more fre- 
quent> and gleam afar as they float %way from the purple 
light : so then leaving the royal vestibule they departed, each 
to his own home, with steps diverging in all directions. 

After they were gone, foremost from the summit of Pelion, 
came Chiron,' bringing sylvan gifts. For all kinds of flowers 
which the fields produce, which the Thessalian land engenders 
on its broad mountains, and which the pregnant breath of 
warm Favonius brings forth beside the running waters, these 
he brought interwoven in promiscuous garlands, and the house 
laughed, impregnated with their pleasant odour. 

Presently comes Peneus, leaving green Tempe, girt jyith 
over-hanging woods, leaving Tempe to be frequented by the 

scenes that precede it. At the same tinle the poet, delicately breaking 
off ■without ever hinting at the fair one's ready acceptance of her new 
lover, leaves the pity we feel for her abandonment imweakened on the 
mind. — Dunlop. 

' Chiron.'\ The mortals having departed, the demigods next arrive ; 
who neither inhabited Olympus with Jupiter, nor were of rank enough 
to join his train. Catullus has with peculiar propriety selected those who 
had promoted or were interested in the nuptials, or were connected by 
some tie with the bride or bridegroom. The centaur Chiron, the inhabit- 
ant of Mount Pelion in Thessaly, the kingdom of Peleus, and afterwards 
tutor of Achilles, the predestined offspring of the marriage, first bears his 
offerings. Next Peneus, the offspring of Ooeanus and Tethys, is selected 
from the water deities as the most celebrated river of Thessaly, and as a 
kinsman of the bride. He bears an appropriate offering of the tiees that 
grow on his banks, and with Chiron decks the palace with flowers and 
boughs ; with which it was usual to decorate every part of the bride- 
groom's abode, and particularly the door, as we learn from Ovid, Fast. 4, 
Juvenal, Sat. 6, and Plutarch in Erotico. To these are added Prome- 
theus, who, by his prophecy of the powerful offspring to spring from 
Thetis, had induced Jupiter to sanction her union with Peleus, and might 
regard the wedding as his own work. These three are the fitting fore- 
runners of the celestial host, who, with Jupiter,- descend from Olympus 
to honour the bridal which he had sanctioned. — Lambe. 


Dorian choirs of the Nessonides ; • nor does he come empty- 
handed, for he has brought tall beeches, roots and all, and 
stately bay-trees with straight stems, with the nodding plane- 
tree, and lightning-stricken Phaethon's flexible sister,^ and 
the airy cypress. These, grouped together, he planted widely 
round the mansion, that the vestibule might look verdant with 
its pleasant leafy screen. 

After him follows ingenious Prometheus, bearing partly 
effaced traces of his old punishment, which he once endured, 
chained to a rock, and suspended from the precipitous peaks 
of Caucasus.^ 

Then the father of the gods came from heaven with his 
divine spouse and his children, leaving only thee, Phoebus,* 
and thy twin sister, dweller on the mountains of Ida; for 
like thee she scorned Peleus, and would not celebrate the 
nuptials of Thetis. 

After the gods bent their snowy limbs on the seats, the 
tables were copiously covered with various cheer. Mean- 
while the Parcse, shaking their bodies with infirm gesture, 
began to utter soothsaying canticles. A white garment wrap- 
ping their tremulous bodies all round, was encircled with a 
purple hem where it reached their heels ; snowy fillets sat on 
their ambrosial heads, ^ and their hands plied their eternal 
task, according to their custom. The left hand held the dis- 
taff covered with soft wool ; the right hand, lightly drawing 
forth the threads, formed them with upturned fingers, then 
twisting them on the downward-pointed thumb, made the 

' Leaving Tempe to be, &c.] The MSS. are very corrupt in this place, 
and nearly a score of various readings have been proposed. Nessonides : 
nymphs of Nessos, a lake near Tempe. Dorian choirs : the girls of the 
Dorian race danced naked on certain occasions. 

' Phaethon's flexible sister.'] Phaethon's sisters, inconsolable for the 
death of their brother, who perished in his mad attempt to drive the 
chariot of his father, the Sun, were changed into poplars. 

' Prometheus, &c.] An eagle had preyed on his liver for thirty years. , 

* Phtebus.] Homer makes Apollo play the lyre at the nuptials of 
Peleus and Thetis. The reason why Catnllus rejected this tradition, was 
probably that the prescient Apollo could not look with favour on a mar- 
riage which was to give birth to Achilles, the destroyer of his favourite 
Trojans, and whom the gbd himself was to slay. 

> Ambrosial heads.] Ambrosio is manifestly preferable to the common 
reading At rosea, for ros ends or"aiiy an incongruous ornament for the 
hoary heads of the awfung that its bight coab,_„^^^^^^^ 



spindle revolve smoothly and swiftly; their nipping teeth 
always smoothed the work, and the woolly fibres which had 
stood out from the'^S^ thread, being bitten off, adhered to 
their dry lips. Wicker-baskets, before their feet, held fleeces 
of white wool. With shrill voices, as they drew out the 
threads, they poured forth these fates in divine song, in song 
which no after-time shall convict of falsehood : ' 

" O Peleus, of most illustrious birth,^ safeguard of Thes- 
saly, enhancing signal honour by great virtues,' hear the truth- 
telling oracle which the sisters reveal to thee on this joyful 
day ; and you, whereon fates depend, run, spindles, ruii, and 
draw out the threads. __— 

lesperus will soon come, and bring thee what bride- 
grooms desire ; with that auspicious star will come the spouse, 
who bathes thy mind in soul-softening love, and prepares to 
sink to sleep with thee in pleasing languor, putting her smooth 
arms under thy strong neck. Kuri, spindles, run, and draw 
out the threads. 

" No hous^ ever united such loves beneath one roof ; ' no 
love ever bound lovers together in such unanimity, so reci- 
procal is the concord between Thetis and Peleus. Run, spin- 
dles, run, and draw out the threads. 

" To you shall be born Achilles void of fear, known to the 
foe, not by his back, but by his valiant bfeast ; who many a 
time victor in the rapid race, shall outstrip the fiery steps of 
the swift stag. Run, spindles, run, and draw out the threads. 

" No hero shall compare with him in war, when the Phry- 
gian streams shall flow with Trojan blood, and the third heir 
of perjured Pelops,* waging long war against the Trojan city, 
shall lay it waste. Run, spindles; run, and draw out the 

• Convict of falsehood.'] Whereas, says Miiretus, this could not be 
""said of the prophecy reported by others to have been delivered on the 

same occasion by Apollo. 

° Illuatrious birth.] Instead ,of clarissime natu, some read clariisime 
nato, " illustrious in thy son," a phrase which would not indeed be inap- 
priate in the mouths of the Fates, though that son was not yet born ; but 
which appears superfluous, since ample mention is subsequently made of 
the glories of Achilles. 

' United . . . beneath one fbof] So Achilles Statins- interprets con- 

* Pelops.] The first two succp's^ wita Jupitjs, were his sons Thyestes 
and Atreus ; the tKird •".... u ne had sanctioned.- Atreus. 


_ " Mothers shall often confess, in the death of their sons, 
his egre^ous valour and illustrious deeds, when they shall 
let fall their hair whitened with dust, and beat their livid 
breasts with their feeble hands. Eun, spindles, run, and 
draw out the vital thread. 

" For as the husbandman, prostrating the ears of com, 
mows the crops that yellow under the hot sun, so shall he 
prostrate the bodies of the sons of Troy with hostile sword. 
Eun, spindles, run, and draw out the threads. 

" A witness of his great valour shall be the wave of Sca- 
mander, which is poured diffusely into the rapid Hellespont ; 
and choking whose course with heaps of slain, he shall make 
the deep stream warm with mingled gore. Eun, spindles, 
run, and draw out the threads. 

" A witness too shall be the captive given to death, when 
the smooth pile heaped upon the lofty mound shall receive the 
snowy limbs of the slaughtered virgin.'^ Eun, spindles, run, 
and draw out the threads. 

" For as soon as fortune shall have enabled the Greeks to 
break through the Neptunian walls of the Dardanian city, 
the lofty sepulchre shall'-be wetted with Polyxena's blood; 
who, like a victim falling beneath a two-edged knife, kneeling 
to the stroke, shall fall a headless corpse. Eun, spindles, run, 
and draw out the threads. 

" Come then, consummate the amorous longings of your 
souls ; let the bridegroom receive the goddess in happy wed- 
lock ; let the bride be delivered to the husband long eager for 
her. Eun, spindles, run, and draw out the threads. 

" Her nurse, when she visits her again at dawn of day, 
shall not be able to surround her neck with yesterday's thread.^ 
Eun, spindles, run, and draw out the threads. 

' The slaughtered virgin.^ Achilles Avas about to marry Polyxena, the 
■ daughter of Priam, when he was slain by Paris in the temple of Apollo. 
After the fall of Troy Pyrrhus, the son of Achilles, immolated her on his 
father's tomb. 

' Yesterday's thread.'] The swelling of the bride's neck, ascertained 
by measurement with a thread on the morning after the nuptials, was 
held to be sufficient proof of their happy consummation. The ancients, 
says Pezay, had faith in another equally absurd test of virginity. They 
measured the circumference of the neck with a thread. Then the girl 
under trial took the two ends of the magic thread in her teeth, and if it 
was found to be so long that its bight could be passed oTer her head, it, 


" Nor shall her mother grieve to see her daughter at dis- 
cord with her mate, and sleeping apart ; nor cease to hope 
for grandchildren. Eun, spindles, run, and draw out the 

Thus prophesjdng in days of yore, the Fates sang the happy 
destinies of Peleus with divine omen. For formerly, ere virtue 
was yet despised, the inhabitants of heaven were wont to visit 
in person the guiltless abodeS of heroes, and to show them- 
selves in mortal assemblies. Often did the father of the gods, 
revisiting ' his splendid temple, when the annual solemnities 
arrived with the festal days, behold a hundred chariots run- 
ning along the ground. Often did roving Bacchus drive his 
screaming Thyads with dishevelled hair from the highest 
peak of Parnassus,^ when the Delphians, eagerly rushing out 
from the whole city, joyfully welcomed the god with smoking 
altars. Often, in the deadly strife of war. Mars, or the mistress 
of the rapid Triton,' or the Ehamnusian virgin,^ in person 
exhorted armed troops of men. But after the earth was 
stained with nefarious crime, and all men drove out justice 
from their covetous souls ; after brothers drenched their hands 
in brothers' blood ; the son ceased to mourn his dead parents ; 
the father desired the death of his firstborn son, that he might 
be free to enjoy the beauty of an unwedded step-dame ;^ after 

was clear she was not a maid. By this rule all the thin girls might pass 
for vestals, and ail the plump ones for the reverse. 

' Revisiting, &c.] Templo in fulgente revisens : an archaic form of 
expression, says Scaliger, like reviso domi, reviso ad eum. 

' Pamassits.'] One summit of the blforked hill was sacred to Bacchus, 
(Pezay says, " in favour of the fine lines which wine inspires,") and his 
worship was cultivated at Delphi, as well as that of ApoUo. This we 
learn from Lucian, book v. 

Between the ruddy west and eastern skies, 
In the mid-earth, Parnassus' tops arise : 
To Phoebtfs, and the cheerful god of wine. 
Sacred in common stands the hill divine. 
Still as the short revolving year comes round. 
The Msenades, with leafy chaplets crown'd. 
The double deity in solemn songs resound. RowE. 
' Triton.'] A torrent in Bceotia ; also a river and marsh in Africa ; 
both sacred to Pallas. 

■* Rhammtsian virgin.'] Nemesis, so called from Rhamnus, a town in 

* An unwedded step-dame.] Unwedded, but whom he wished to wed. 
Sallust states that Catiline murdered his son, because the young man 
was an obstacle to his marriage with Aurelia Orestilla. 


the impious mother, submitting herself to the embrace of her 
unconscious son,' feared not to contaminate her household 
gods with sacrilege ; all right and wrong confounded together 
by the madness of guilt, averted from us the righteous minds 
of the gods. Wherefore they neither deign to visit assem- 
blages so composed, nof suffer themselves to be encountered 
in the light of day.^ 


Though care, and incessant, consuming sorrow, aUenate 
me, Hortalus, from the learned virgins, nor is my mind capa- 
ble of drawing forth the sweet younglings of the Muses, with 
such afflictions is it agitated ; for the wave that flows from 
the Lethsean gulf hath lately washed the pallid foot of my 

' 2%e impioiis mother, &c.] Semiramis is said to have done thus by 
her son Ninus. 

' Day,'] The Marriage of Peleus and Thetis fully justifies Scaliger's , 
opinion that " it approached nearer to the divinity of the 0iad than any 7- 
other poem." He might however have added, that some part of that 
divinity was even borrowed from it. The parting of Egeus and Theseus 
is the prototype of that of Evander and Pallas ; the despair of Dido is 
•worked up with sentiment and passion probably suggested by that of Ari- 
adne ; and even the beautiful commemoration of Marcellus is an im- 
provement upon the prophecy of the career of Achilles. — Lambe. Ovid 
has treated the subject of Ariadne not less than four times, and has bor- 
rowed largely from Catullus. In the Epistle of Ariadne to Theseus he 
has painted, like his predecessor, her disordered person, her sense of de- 
sertion, and remembrance of the benefits she had conferred on Theseus. 
But the epistle is a cold production, chiefly because her grief is not im- 
mediately presented before us ; and she merely tells that she had wept, 
and sighed, and raved. The minute detail, too, into which she enters, is 
inconsistent with her vehement passion. She recollects too well each 
heap of sand which retarded her steps, and the thorns on the summit of 
the mountain. Returning from her wanderings, she addresses her couch. 
Of which she asks advice, till she becomes overpowered by apprehension 
for the wild beasts and marine monsters, of which she presents her false 
lover with a faithful catalogue. The simple ideas of Catullus are fre- 
quently converted into conceits, and his natural bursts of passion into 
quibbles and artificial points. In the eighth book of the Metamorphoses, 
the melancholy part of Ariadne's story is only recalled m order to intro- 
duce the transformation of her crown into a star. In the third book of 
the Fasti, she deplores the double desertion of Theseus and Bacchus. 
It is in the first book of the Art of Love that Ovid approaches nearest to 
Catullus, particularly in the sudden contrast between the solitude and 
melancholy of Ariadne, and the revelry of the Bacchanalians.— Dun/op. 


brother, whom, snatched from my eyes, the Trojan earth 
covers beneath the Rhoetean shore.' * * * * Ah brother 
dearer than life, shall I never henceforth behold thee ? But 
surely I will always love thee ; the songs I sing shall always 
be saddened by thy death, like those which the bird of Daulia^ 
warbles beneath the shade of thick boughs, bewailing the fate 
of the lost Itys. Yet in the midst of such grief I send thee, 
Hortalus, these strains imitated from Battiades,' that you may 
not perchance suppose that your words have escaped from my 
mind, to be given idly to the passing winds, but as the apple,* 
the clandestine gift of the wooer, rolls out from the virgin's 
chaste bosom ; * for she forgets, poor thing, that it is placed 
beneath her soft robe, and as she starts up at her mother's 
coming, it is shaken out ; down it falls at once to the ground, 
whilst a conscious blush suffuses the face of the distressed 

' A line is wanting here. 

' The bird of DauUa.l Daulia in Thrace was the scene of the tragedy 
of Itys. Tereus, king of Thrace, ravished Philomela and cut out her 
tongue. Her sister Procne, the wife of Tereus, revenged the deed by 
killing her son Itys, and cooking him for his father's supper. All four 
were transformed into birds. Philomela 'became a nightingale. 

' Battiades.'] The Greek poet Callimachus, who was descended from 
Battus the founder of Cyrene. It would seem that Hortalus had re- 
quested Catullus to translate from Callimachus the next poem after this, 
" Berenice's Hair." 

* The apple,"] The gift of an apple had a very tender meaning ; ac- 
cording to Vossius it was qvMsi pignus concubitus, that is to say, it was 
the climax 

To " all those token flowers that tell 
What words can never speak so well." 
The emperor Theodosius caused Paulinus to be murdered for receiving 
an apple from his empress. In one of the love epistles of . Aristsenetus, 
Phalaris complains to her friend Petala, how her younger sister, who had 
accompanied her to dine with Pamphilus, her lover, attempted to seduce 
him, and among other wanton tricks did as follows : " Pamphilus, biting 
off a piece of an apple, chucked it dexterously into her bosom ; she took 
it, kissed it, and thrusting it under her sash, hid it between her breasts." 

' Bosom.l The Romans had an ungallant proverb, nee muUeri, nee 
gremio eredi oportere, nothing should be intrusted to a woman or a bo- 
som, because, says Festus, the former are light and variable, and what- 
ever is put in the latter is forgotten when one stands up. 

« The distressed damsel.] The intrinsic beauty of this comparison is 
universally admitted, but many of its warmest admirers confess that they 
have little to say in defence of its appositeness. But, says Doering, this 
is because they have not rightly apprehended it. If, for instance,- we ac- 


(the haik speaks.) 

CoNON, who hath investigated all the lights in the great 
firmament ; who hath ascertained the rising and the setting 
of the stars, and knows, how the splendour of the rapid sun is 
obscured, how the stars depart at certain times, and how sweet 
love detaining Diana among the crags of Latmos, withdraws 
her from her airy circuit ; that same Conon saw, shining bril- 
liantly with celestial light, me, the hair of Berenice's head, 
which she, outstretching her smooth arms, had promised to 
many gods, at the time when the king, recently blest in mar- 
riage, and bearing marks of the nocturnal struggle in which 
he had been engaged for the virgin's spoils, had gone to lay 
waste the Assyrian territory. Is Venus odious to the newly 
wedded ? Why do brides frustrate their parents' joys by the 
feigned tears they pour out profusely within the nuptial 
chamber ? Their grief is not real, so help me the gods ! 

cept the interpretation given by Muretus, " Do not think that your words 
have lapsed from my mind like an apple from a girl's bosom," then indeed 
the comparison is quite frigid. But this -was not what Catullus intended ; 
his meaning was, " It is true I forgot for a while what I had promised 
you, but forgot it just as it sometimes happens to a maiden to forget a 
thing she prizes most dearly, and to be overcome with shame and confu- 
sion when she is suddenly reminded of her inattention." 

,' Berenice's Hair."] According to Hyginus, whom all the commentators 
have implicitly followed, Berenice, the daughter of Ptolemy Philadelphus 
and Arsinoe, married her brother Ptolemy Euergetes, in accordance with 
the Egyptian custom. But^ we know from Justin, lib. xxvi. c. 3, that 
Berenice was not really Ptolemy's sister, but his cousin-german, a rela- 
tionship to which ancient usage gave the name of sisterhood. Her hus- 
band having soon afterwards nlarched with bis army into Syria, Berenice 
devoted her beautiful locks to Venus on condition of her husband's vic- 
torious return. Her prayers were heard, and she suspended her locks 
■with her own hand in the temple of the goddess, whence they disappeared 
before the next morning, to the great vexation of both the royal consorts. 
Conon, a famous astronomer of Samos, and a no less adroit courtier, 
averred that a divine hand had withdrawn them, and placed them among 
the stars. 0n-4his hint Callimachus composed a poem, which Catullus 
has here imitated. But though the poem of Callimachus may have been 
seriously written, and gravely read by the court of Ptolemy, the lines of 
Catullus often approach to something like pleasantrv or persiflage. The 
original is lost, which is the more tmfortunate, as no work of Catullus 
has been more disfigured by transcribers than this. 


This truth my queen taught me by her many lamentations, 
when her newly-wedded spouse set out for grim battles. It 
was not, however, for the loneliness of thy deserted bed that 
thou didst grieve, but for the sad departure of thy dear bro- 
ther, when sorrow so consumed thy very marrow, and thy 
whole bosom was so racked, that sense and reason departed ! 
But surely I have known thee magnanimous since thou wast 
but a little maiden. Hast thou forgotten that good deed,' by 
which thou didst win a royal marriage, a deed than which 
none ever dared to do a bolder?^ But what words thou didst 
utter at thy sad parting from thy husband ! O Jupiter ! how 
often thou didst wipe thine eyes with thy hand ! What 

■ ' That good deed."] Hyginus gives a romantic and incredible explana- 
tion of these verses, in -wliicli he is followed by modem commentators. 
Berenice is represented as a heroine, who broke horses, drove chariots, 
and practised all military exercises. The exploit here alluded to was, 
they say, her rescue of her father in battle, when surrounded by enemies ; 
in reward for which her brother married her. But the poet certainly 
alludes to a memorable passage in history, related by Plutarch in his Life 
of Demetrius. Magas, the uterine brother of Ptolemy Philadelphus, was 
by the influence of his mother promoted to the government of Cyrene and 
Libya. (Pausanias in Attic.) He governed those provinces many years 
with ability, and having fortified his own power by the affection of the 
natives and by his marriage with Apame, daughter of Antiochus Soter, 
king of Syria, he determined to secure to his own family the dominion of 
the countries which he had long ruled as a viceroy. His revolt was suc- 
cessful ; but the supposed contingency which had at first inspired him 
with disaffection to his brother, failed to happen. He had reached the 
extremity of old age, and his queen Apame had brought him no male 
children, and only one daughter, Berenice. Under this disappointment 
Magas expressed a desire to compose all differences with his brother 
Ptolemy Philadelphus, by marrying his only daughter with Ptolemy's 
eldest son, and giving as her dower the restored allegiance of Cyrene and 
Libya. The treaty was accepted, but Magas died before the conditions 
of it were executed. The ambitious Apame, unwilling that her husband's 
independent kingdom should sink into h tributary province, invited to 
Cyrene Demetrius, the brother of Antigonus Gonatas, king of Macedon, 
promising him her daughter in marriage. But the figure and accomplish- 
ments of this young prince changed her resolutions and captivated her 
affections. Demetrius, instead of marrying the daughter, became the 
paramour of the mother. But the slighted Berenice determined to avenge 
her wrongs. A conspiracy was formed in the palace. Demetrius was 
slain in the embraces of Apame ; the daughter conducting the assassins 
to the chamber and bed of her mother. Apame was sent into Syria, and 
Berenice repaired to Alexandria, and consummated her marriage with 
young Ptolemy, afterwards called Euergetes. — Tytler. 

' A deed than which, &c.] Quo non fortius ausit alis. Alis for alius. 


mighty god thus changed thee ? Was this because lovers are 
loth to be long absent from the beloved one ? And there thou 
didst promise me, together with blood of buUs, to all the gods 
for thy dear spouse, if he returned in no long time, and added 
vanquished Asia to the bounds of Egypt. For these reasons, 
I, now numbered among the celestial assembly, discharge thy 
pristine vow by a new gift. 

Unwillingly, O queen, did I quit thy crown ; ' unwillingly, 
I swear by thee and thy head ; and fit chastisement befall 
whoever takes that oath lightly ! But who can hope to with- 
stand steel? That mountain too was cut down with steel, 
over which, the largest on the coasts, the illustrious race of 
Thia^ was borne, when the Medes swept through a new sea, 
and the Barbarian youth navigated through the midst of 
Athos. What can hairs do when such things yield to steel ? 
Perish, O Jupiter, the whole race of the Chalybes,' and who- 
ever in the beginning instituted the practice of seeking out 
veins under ground and forging hard iron ! My sister hairs, 
just before separated from me, were bewailing my fate, when 
Ethiopian Memnon's brother, the winged steed of Chloris, 
beating the air with quivering wings, presented himself in 
Arsinoe's temple, and catching me up flew through the dusky 
ether and laid me in the chaste bosom of Venus.'' Zephyritis 

• UmoUlinghj, &c.] Macrobius remarks that Virgil, who was well 
acquainted with the works of his predecessors, has borrowed this line 
from Catullus {Mn. iv. 460) : 

Invitus, Regina, tuo de littore cessi. 

^ Thia.'\ Macedon, who gave his name to Macedonia, the original 

country of the Ptolemies, was the son of Jupiter and Thia, the daughter of 

Deucalion. The Macedonians were among the auxiliaries of Xerxes when 

he invaded Greece, cutting a channel through Mount Athos on his way. 

' The Chalybes.} A. people of Asia Minor, descended from Chalybs, 
a son of Mars, who first taught the use of iron. Pope has imitated this 
passage in the third canto of the Rape of the Lock : 

What time would spare, from steel receives its date, 

And monuments, like men, submit to fate. 

Steel could the labours of the gods destroy. 

And strike to dust the imperial towers of Troy ; 

Steel could the works of mortal pride confoimd, 

And hew triumphal arches to the ground ; 

What wonder then, fair nymph, thy hairs should feel 

The conquering force of unresisted steel ? 

* The chaste bosom of Venus.'] The Venus here meant is the more 


herself had sent her servant to the pleasant regions on the 
Canopian shores, to the end that not only the golden crown 
from Ariadne's temples should be fixed in the varied extent 
of heaven, but that we, the consecrated spoils of Berenice's 
yellow head, might shine there too. As moist with tears! 
entered the temple of the gods, divine Venus placed me as a 
new constellation among the ancient ones. For contiguous 
to the stars of the Virgin and of the fierce Lion, adjoining 
Calisto the daughter of Lycaon, I turn to the west, preced-. 
ing the slow Bootes, who sinks late and reluctantly into the 
deep ocean. But though the footsteps of the gods press me 
by night,' yet by day I am restored to the bosom of white- 
haired Tethys. Let me be allowed to say these things with 
thy permission, Rhamnusian virgin, for I wiU not conceal the 
truth from any fear ; no, though the stars assail me with in- 
vectives, I will unfold the secret feelings of my sincere mind : 
I am not so rejoiced by these events, as not to be tortured by 
the thought that I am for ever parted from the head of my 
mistress, with whom I imbibed many thousand fragrant oint- 
ments, though whilst she was yet a virgin I never had any.^ 

Now you, on whose union the marriage torch has shone 
with its precious light, give not your persons to your fond 
mates, nor throw off your robes and bare your bosoms, before 
your onyx box presents me with pleasing libations ; let your 
onyx box do this, all you who seek the rights of wedlock in 
a chaste bed. But whoso gives herself up to impure adultery, 
let the light dust unwillingly imbibe her loathed gifts ; for I 

reputable of the two goddesses of that name, the one who presides over 
lawful wedlock. Multitudinous blunders in the MSS. combine with 
mythological intricacies to make this whole passage one of the most ob- 
scure in the works of Catullus. Briefly, its meaning appears to be this ; 
Zephyrus, son of Aurora, brother of Memnon, and husband of Chloris, 
carried off the liair by order of Venus, who is also called Arsinoe, from 
her temple in the town of that name founded by Ptolemy Philadelphus 
in honour of his sister-spouse ; and Zephyritis, from the Egyptian pro- 
montory of Zephyrium where she was ■\yorshipped. Some commentators 
make Zephyritis identical with Chloris. 

' The footsteps of the gods press me.'] The Comtt B«r«mces is situated 
in the Milky Way, the road by which the gods passed over the sky to 
and from Olympus. 

2 Never had any.] Maidens used simple oil alone, and no perfumes 
for their hair, or only such as were extracted from single plants, but not 
those composite essences which were always implied by the words un- 
ffuentum and /uwppn. They wore no garlands of flowers, only plain fillets. 


desire no offerings from the unworthy. Eather, brides, may- 
concord and constant love always abide in your dwellings. 

But thou, O queen, when gazing on the stars thou shalt 
propitiate Venus with festive torches, let not me, thine own, 
be left without my share of sacrifice, but rather present me 
with copious offerings. 

Why do the stars hold me ? "Would I might again become 
the hair of my royal mistress ! Orion might then shine next 
to Aquarius ' for aiight I cared. 


Hail, door, dear to the amiable husband and dear to his 
father, and may Jove bless thee with his good aid, door, I 
who they say didst formerly serve Balbus with good will, \ 
when the old man lived here ; and who they say again didst \ 
serve an evil intent after the old man was stretched out and 
the mistress was again made a bride. Come, tell me why thou 
art reported to be so changed and to have thus renounced thy 
old fidelity to thy master. 


As I hope to please Csecilius, to whom I now belong, it is 
not my fault, although it is said to be so ; nor can any one 
say that any offence has been committed by me ; but if you 
believe the people, everything is the door's doing : for when- 
ever anything is known to have been done amiss, they all cry 
out at me, " It is your fault, door." 


It is not enough to assert this by word only ; but you must 
make it so plain that any one may understand and see it. 


How can I ? No one asks, or cares to know. 

■ Orion .... Aquarius.'] These two constellations are very far asunder; 
the mention.of them implies, Could I but get back to my old place, the 
whole order of the heavens might be upset for aught I cared. 

* On a wanton's door.] The persons and the circumstances alluded to 
in this satire being totally unknown, our interest in it is greatly impaired. . 
Several commentators have endeavoured to explain its personal allusions, 
but their conjectures are quite arbitrary and therefore worthless. 



I do : do not hesitate to tell me. 


In the first place then it is false that she was delivered to 
us a virgin : not that her impotent husband had first been in- 
timate with her ; but her own father is said to have violated 
his son's bed, and to have dishonoured his unfortunate house ; 
whether it was that his incestuous soul burned with blind 
passion, or that his enervated son was incapable of marital 
functions, and that abler means to loose the virgin's zone had 
to be sought elsewhere. 


You make known to me a rare instance of admirable pa- 
rental conscientiousness ; — to cuckold his own son ! 


But this is not the only thing which Brixia professes to know, 
Brixia, situated below the Cycnaaan peak, beloved mother of 
my Verona,' which the yellow Mela traverses with its gentle 
stream. But it tells of the amours of Posthumius and of Cor- 
neUus, with whom she committed shameful adultery. Now 
some one may say : " How do you know these things, door, 
you who are never free to quit your master's threshold, nor 
to hear the talk of the people, but, fastened to this post, are 
wont only to shut or open the house?" I have often heard 
her in private talking of these wicked deeds of hers, with her 
handmaids, in a stealthy voice, and mentioning by name those 
I have mentioned ; for she did not of course expect that I had 
tongue or ear. Moreover, she spake of a certain person whom 
I do not wish to mention by name, lest he bristle up his red 
eyebrows. He is a long, lanky fellow, who formerly got in- 
volved in great litigation about a simulated pregnancy and 
false parturition. 

' Beloved mother, &o.] Maffei ( Verona Illustrata) maintains that the 
two lines which predicate this relationship of Brescia and Verona contradict 
history, and that they are spurious. 



That, bowed down by misfortune and sore calamity, you 
send me this epistle blotted with your tears, praying me to 
raise you up as a shipwrecked man flung ashore by the foam- 
ing billows, and to rescue you from the gates of death ; and 
telling me that neither sacred Venus suffers you to enjoy soft 
slumber in your lonely, deserted bed, nor do the Muses delight 
you with the sweet strains of old poets, whilst your sorrow- 
ing mind knows no rest ; this is gratifying to me, for as much 
as you esteem me your friend, and therefore ask of me the 
gifts of the Muses and of Venus. But that my sorrows may 
not be unknown to you, Manlius, and that you may not sup- 
pose I shrink from the duties incumbent on your guest,^ hear 
now in what billows of misfortune I myself am plunged, and 
ask no more for the gifts of the happy from a wretch like 

When first the white robe^ was conferred upon me, when 
my flowery years were in their jocund spring, I disportai 
variously enough ; * I ha'Ve not been unknown to the goddess . 

' To Manlius-I Most commentators conclude from the fifth and sixth lines 
of this poem that it was addressed to Manlius on the occasion of the death 
of his wife Julia, celebrated in the first epithalamium. But this seems 
incongruous with the wish expressed at the end of the piece, that Man- 
lius and the lady, whoever she was, who is emphatically termed " his 
life," may long live happily .together. Doering supposes that the fond 
pair had quarrelled ; but that hypothesis fails also if tried by the same 
test ; besides, the poet oflFers no hint or inducement towards reconciliation, 
as he would naturally have done in such a case. It is to be regretted that 
; left in the dark as to the occasion on which this poem was com- 
i for we are thus deprived of the means of clearing up many of its 
,!!'lties, and of becoming reconciled to many things in it which now 
.11 as blemishes upon a work which presents many extraordinary 
, . .s. 

' ur guest.'] The Romans regarded hospitality as a permanent 

u\\:'i.' relation, and assigned to it a high place among the duties of life. 

. ,,; ijellius thus classifies social duties in the order in which they are 

ireferred when they happen to clash with each other — First, the 

- awards parents and guardians ; next, that towards clients and 

,:. dependants; thirdly, the duties of those who accepted or inter- 

.,,.,,4 hospitality; and lastly, duties toward jjiindred and relations. 

:ji,;ies of hospitality, he says, are sometime placed second. 

• ":' .', white robe.] The toga mrilis, assumed at the age of puberty, and 

- ;;,; '.ras of but one colour ; the boy's robe was bordered with purple. 

!sported variously enough.] Some interpret this to mean, I toyed 



who mingles Sweet bitterness ' with our cares. But my brother's 
death has absorbed all such tastes in grief. O my brother, 
whose loss hath left me wretched ! Thou hast broken all my 
enjoyments by thy death, brother ; our whole house is buried 
along with thee ; with thee have perished all my delights, 
which thy dear love fostered in thy lifetime. Since thy de- 
parture I have wholly abandoned all my fondness for poetry, 
and all my favourite pursuits. Therefore as for what you 
write, that " It is a shame for Catullus to be at Verona, for 
there a man of mark must warm his cold limbs in his solitary 
bed ;"2 this is not shameful, Manlius ; say rather it is pitiable. 
You will pardon me then if I do not send you those gifts of 
which sorrow has bereft me, since I am unable. For that I 
have no great stock of writings by me is a result of my living 
at Rome ; that is my home, my domicile ; there my life is 
passed. Only one case of books ^ out of many has accom- 
panied me to this place. This being so, I would not have 
you conclude that it is from ill will, or illiberality of mind on 
my part, that both your requests are not fulfilled. I would 

■with the Muses ; others, I dallied -with love ; we rather think that 
Catullus meant both. 

' Sweet bitterness.'] This was a familiar idea with the ancients, and 
Byron's imitation of Lucretius has naturalized it in England : 
Medio de fonte leporum 
Surgit amari aliquid quod in ipsis floribus angat. 
Full from the fount of joy"s delicious springs 
Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings. 
Anacreon, Ode 45, describes the manufacture of Cupid's arrow-heads : 
Vulcan forges them, Venus then dips them in honey, and Cupid after- 
wards in gall. Claudian gives a somewhat difi'erent account of the mat- 
ter : 

Labuntur gemini fontes, hie dulcis, amarus 
Alter, et infusis corrumpit melle venenis, 
Unde Cupidiueas armavit fama sagittas. 
In Cypris' isle two rippling fountains fall, 
And one with honey flows and one with gall ; 
In these, if we may take the tale from fame. 
The son of Venus dips his darts of flame. Mooee. 
^ It is a shame, &c.] Lamb, and many others before him, have- 
strangely mistaken the meaning of this passage, as though it signified 
that while Catullus bup"d himself in a provincial town, others were taking 
the place he left vacaniS'by Lesbia's side at home. 

' Case of books.] Capsula, a portable case in which the ancients k«pt 
their books, whence the slaves who carried the books of patrician boys 
when they went to school were called Capsarii. 


gladly send you both books and verses, if I had any supply of 

1 cannot forbear, O goddesses, to tell in what things 
Manlius has aided me, and how great has been his kindness, 
lest fleeting, oblivious time veil in obscurity this friendship of 
his for me. But I will tell you all: do you tell it again to 
many thousands, and make this paper talk of it when it shall 
have become an ancient writing. **»»** [Let him become 
more and more famous when dead, '] and let not the pendent 
spider, weaving her fine web, ply her work over the neglected 
name of Manlius. 

For you know. Muses, what anxiety wily Venus ^ caused 
me, and in what manner she fired my bosom ; when it boiled 
like the bowels of ^tna, or the Malian fountain in OEtaean 
Thermopylse ; ' when my eyes were bedimmed wi^h incessant 
tears, and my cheeks were wet with sad showers. As the 
limpid stream bursts from the mossy stone on the airy moun- 
tain's crest, and having rolled down the sloping valley, makes 
its way through the midst of a dense population, presenting a 
sweet refreshment to the weary traveller, when the, oppressive 
heat makes the parched fields crack and gape : and as a soft 
and favouring wind comes' to mariners whom a black tempest 
has tossed, and who invoke the aid of Castor and Pollux ; such, 
and so helpful has Manlius been to me. He widely extended 
the limits of my narrow domain ; he gave me the house I dwell 
in and its mistress, whom we might love in common.* Thither 

' Let him become, &c.] Handius suspects this'line to be an interpolation. 

2 Wily Venus.'] "We agree with Muretus in thinking that the epithet 
duplex has the same meaning as that in which Horace applies it to 
Ulysses. Scaliger understands by it Venus Urania and the common 
Venus. Vossius and Vulpius think it alludes to the Venus with two 
faces, one of them bearded, who was worshipped by the people of 

3 The Malian fountain, &c.] Thermopylffi is etymologically The Pass 
of the Hot Wells : 9epiibs, warm, irvXti, gate. 

* Love in common.'] Vulpius quotes instances from Plautus and 
other writers, to prove that this excess of friendship was not unusual 
in Rome. An epigram in the Grfek Anthology condemns the practice, 
and thereby proves its existence ; and Donatus states that Virgil refused 
an invitation from Varjus to establish such an ii^macy. It seems to be 
generally taken for granted that the mistress here in question was Lesbia; 
ihia is merely a conjecture, and a very improbable one, as it ap- 


my fair divinity turned her light steps,' and halted on the 
threshold, pressing it with her shining foot and creaking san- 

^dals.^ So came of yore Laodamia,^ burning with love, to the 
home of Protesilaus, a home she entered with hopes doomed to 
be frustrated, since no victim had yet propitiated the lords of 
heaven with consecrated blood. May nothing, O Nemesis, 
ever engage my affections so strongly, as that I should rashly 

Jsnter upon its enjoyment without the sanction of the gods. 

"Laodamia learned by the loss of her husband how hungrily 
the altar craves for sacrificial blood ; for she was compelled to 
quit the neck of her lately wedded spouse, before a second 

- return of the long winter nights had so satisfied her eager love, 

. that she could survive the dissolution of her marriage, which 
the Fates knew would not be far remote in time, if her hus- 
band went in arms to the walls of Ilium. For Troy had then 
begun to provoke the leaders of the Greeks against it by the 
rape of Helen : accursed Troy ! the common sepulchre of 
Europe and Asia ; Troy, the cruel grave of brave men and 
noble qualities ; to which I also owe the lamentable death of 
my brother. O brother, lost to my sorrow ! O light of glad- 
ness, lost to thy wretched brother ! Our whole house is buried 
with thee. With thee have perished all my delights, which 
thy sweet love fostered in thy lifetime. Now, an alien land 
holds thee so far from me, in its remote soil, laid not among 
familiar t9mbs, not near kindred ashes, but buried in infamous, 
unhappy Troy. 

Thither hastened from all quarters the whole manhood of 
Greece, forsaking their domestic hearths, that Paris might not 
enjoy his stolen adulteress in the ease and freedom of a> peae@.- 

' Light steps.] Molli pedi : Noel, the French translator of jIM^Uu^ • 
■understands by this, " The grace of a voluptuous gait; a fen^iijDe at- 
traction which was so highly prized, that we find it commemorated in 
ancient inscriptions : Sermone lepido, turn autem incessu commoSHk Pro- 
pertius has specified it in a pretty line : 

Et camit, ut solent molliter ire pedes'' , 

^ Creaking sandals.'] Arguta solea is susceptible of a different mean- 
ing, viz. ".small and pretty : " we prefer that which we hiive given, for 
reasons which no lover will be at a loss to assign. 

3 Laodamia.] Too fondly impatient to consummate her marriage with 
Protesilaus, Laodamia neglected previously to propitiate tlie gO&^MM 
'sacrifices. In revenge they caused her husband to be the first hc^p*^" 
before Troy. She desired to see his shade, and died embracing 14 


ful bed. Thus it happened that thou, fairest Laodamia, 
wast bereft of a spouse dearer to thee than life and soul. A 
very whirlpool of love had sucked thee in, and plunged thee 
down a gulf as deep as the rich soil which the Greeks tell us 
was dried by the drainage of the marsh near Cyllenean Phe- 
neus, and which the falsely supposed son of Amphitryon is 
said to have'^ug, when he cut through the hearts of moun- 
tains, at the time when he smote the Stymphalian monsters 
with his sure arrows, by command of a less valiant lord ; ' that 
the gateway of heaven might be trodden by a divinity the 
more, and that Hebe ^. might not be long a virgin. But thy 
deep love was deeper than that gulf which taught the god to 
bear tamely the yoke of a master.^ For no only daughter 
rears a late-born child so dear to his aged grandsire, a child 
who, when hope was almost gone, appears at last as heir to 
his ancestral wealth, has had his name inserted in the attested 
will, and thus extinguishing the unkindly joy of the baffled 
next of kin, drives away the vulture that hovered over the 
grandsire's hoary head ; ^ nor did any dove ever delight so 
much in its snowy mate, (though that bird is said to surpass 
all others in the indefatigable ardour of its billing kissed,) as 
thou didst, Laodamia, though woman is pre-eminently incon- 
stant. But thou alone didst surpass every great love ever 
fenown, when once thou wast united with thy yellow-haired 

' The drainage of the marsh, &c.] Hercules, son of Jupiter, by Alc- 
mena, the wife of Amphitryon, was by an artifice of Juno's made subject 
to his less heroic uterine brother Eurystheus. The two labours of Her- 
cules, here mentioned, are the destruction of the monstrous birds of prey 
that infested tlie neighbourhood of Stymphalus in Arcadia, and the drain- 
ing of a marsh formed by the waters of the Pheneus, which he effected 
by opening a passage through a mountain. 

2 Hebe.'] Whom Hercules married after his reception into heaven, and 
his reconciliation to her mother, Juno. 

* l^t tomght the god, &c.] The various readings of this passage are in- 
namerable ; Muretus, one of the most judicious of commentators, frankly 
.confesses that he cannot-make sense of it. It must be confessed tha.t the 
whole of this allusion to Hercules has very much the air of an illustra- 

tion, dragged in by the head and shoulders. 

< Thm rniUw-e, &c.] That is, the heir at law, who watched liki 

e a 

^irrioii iird of prey for the old man's death. 

,*_!' But thou alone, &c.] Noel inclines to the opinion that the death of 

Ailia was the real theme of this poem, notwithstanding the mention of 

\e lady, who would seem to have anticipated Catullus in consoling the 


Worthy to yield to her in no respect, or but little, the light 
of my life came to my bosom ; while often fluttering round 
her here and there, fair Cupid shone in saffron tunic. And 
though indeed she is not content with Catullus alone, I will 
bear with the few infidelities of my discreet mistress, that I 
may not make myself intolerable as fools do. [Often, even Juno, 
the greatest of the celestial goddesses, raged at the daily faults 
of her consort, knowing the many amours of most volatile 
Jove. But it is not meet that men should be compared with 
gods.] Let me be rid however of the annoying burthen of her 
fldgetty father. Why should he interfere ? For ' she was not 
delivered to me by a father's hand, when she came to my 
house scented with Assyrian perfume ; but quitting the very 
bosom of her husband, she bestowed furtive favours on me in 
that delicious night. Enough then, if she gives to me alone^ 
that day which she marks with a white stone. 

I send you, /Manlius, this gift of verse, the best I could 
compose, in return for many acts of friendship, that this day, 
or that, or another, may not touch your name with the un- 
seemly rust of oblivion. May the gods add, moreover, all 
kinds of gifts which Themis was wont to bestow on the vir- . 
tuous of yore. May you both be happy, yourself and she who 
is your life ; and happy be the house in which we have dal- 
lied, and its mistress, and he who first made me known to 
you, and from whom all my good fortune was primarily de- 
rived ; and happy beyond all others be that light of my days, 
who is dearer to me than myself, and who while she lives 
makes life sweet to me. 

widower ; for he says that the ancients were not so squeamish in such 
matters as the modems. In confirmation of this conjecture, he asks : 
" Would it be unreasonable to suppose that this digression about Laoda- 
mia, which seems so foreign to the subject, is an allusion to the love of 
Julia for Manlius, — Julia carried off like her in tlie bloom of youth ? " 

' Let me be rid, &c.] We have given this line the only interpretation by 
which it seems possible to connect ii with the received context; but the 
latter bears obvious marks of some clumsy interpolater's handiwork. If 
we reject with Handius the preceding passage enclosed between brackets, 
the meaning will come out clearly thus : " Let me not be unreasonably 
fretful about such slight grievances, after the manner of fools ; away with 
the onerous and ungracious task of watching and chiding, like a fidseHHf 
parent rather than a lover." 



WoNDEE not, Eufus, why no woman will submit to your 
embrace, nor why you can tempt none by the gift of a choice 
robe, or an exquisite transparent gem. Your reputation suf- 
fers from a certain ugly story that is current, to the effect that a 
horrid buck goat is lodged in your armpits. They are all 
afraid of him, and no wonder, for he is a very dreadful beast, 
and one which no fair damsel could sleep along-side of. 
Wherefore either slay that dire foe to their noses, or cease to 
wonder why the women shun you. 


Mr mistress says there is none she would rather wed than 
me ; not though Jove himself should woo her. She says so : '■ 

' She says «o.] Dicit. Noel traces a strong resemblance between this 
ejVigram and one by Callimachus, especially in the graceful repetition, 
wihich serves so well to introduce the closing thought. The Greek epi- 
grsim is to this effect : 

"J Oalignotus has sworn to lonis that he will never love any one better 
thaip her. He has sworn it : but it is a true saying that lovers' oaths do 
mJ- reach th6 ears of the immortals." 

■ Some very pretty lines of similar tenor by Montemayor, a Spanish 
poe^lave frequently been imitated in English : ' 

" One eve of beauty, when the sun 
Was on the waves of Guadalquiver, 
To gold converting one by one 

The ripples of the mighty river ; 
Beside me on the bank was seated 
A Seville girl, with auburn hair. 
And eyes that might the world have cheated, 
A wild, bright, wicked diamond pair." 
" She stoop'd and wrote upon the sand, 
Just as the loving sun was going, 
With such a soft, small, shining hand, 

You would have sworn 'twas silver flowing. 
Three words she wrote and not one more ; 

What could Diana's motto be ? 
The syren wrote upon the shore : 
" Death, not inconstancy." 
" And then her two large languid eyes 
So turn'd on mine, that, devil take me, 
I set the air on fire with sighs, 
And was the fool she chose to make me. 


but what a woman says to an eager lover, should be written 
on the wind and the running water. 


If ever, Verro, any worthy was infested with a cursed buck- 
goatish effluvia from his armpits ; or if hobbling gout ever ' 
deservedly racked auy one, that rival of yours, who supplants 
you in your love, has with marvellous fitness acquired both 
maladies ; for as often as he enjoys his conquest, he avenges 
you on the pair ; her he stifles with his rank smell, and he 
himself is half killed by the gout. 


You used once'to say, Lesbia, that you knew none hut i/our 
own Catullus, and that you would not prefer even Jove to me. 
I loved you then not merely as men commonly love a mistress, 
but as a father loves his sons and his sons-in-law. Now I 
know you. Wherefore though I burn for you more veKe- 
mently than ever, yet are you much more despicable ^d 
worthless in my eyes. How can this be ? you ask. Because 
such wrongs as mine compel a lover to love more, but to like 
less. ^ 


Cease to wish to deserve well of any one, or to think that 
any one can be made faithfully observant of his obligations. 
The whole wodd is ungrateful : kinj acts are of no avail ; 
nay, they even weary, they weary and offend rather. [So it is 
in my own case ; for no one pursues me with more acrimonious 
hostility than he who but lately had in me his one only friend.'] 

LXXIV. OK GELLIUS.2 [See Metrical Veraion.'] 

Saint Francis would have been deceived 

By such an eye, and such a hand : 
But one week more, and I believed 

As much the woman as the sand." 

' So it is, &c.] The passage enclosed between brackets is palpably 

' On GelUus.'] Les oncles sont grondeurs ; Gellius n' ignorait pas que 
le slen d^clamait en rigorirte outi^ contre les propos gais et les galantes 



No woman can say truly she has been loved so well as 
thou, my Lesbia, hast been loved by me. Never was so much 
faith observed in any coBapact as hath been manifested on my 
part in my love for thee.'j Now is my mind brought to this pass 
by thy perfidy, my Lesbia, and has so lost itself in its devotion 
to thee, that I can neither like thee, shouldst thou become 
faultless, nor cease to love thee,' do what thou wiltT 


Ip there be any pleasure to a man in the remembrance of 
former good deeds, when he considers that his conduct 
is upright,"^ and that he has not broken sacred faith, or 
abused the sanction of the gods, in any compact, to. the de- 
ception of men ; many delights remain in store for thee, 

Catullus, for lonp; yppra tn camp , nut n£-t l m 4 - ,. ill i Tr . mii t p rl-lnr^: 

of thine. fFor all the kindness that men can show to any one 
by Word or deed, has been evinced in thy words and deeds ; 
but all has been lavished in vain on a thankless mind. Why 
then torture thyself more ? Why not summon up resolution 
enough to withdraw utterly from that illusion, and cease to be 
wretched in defiance of the gods ?^ It is hard to put ofi" sud- 

fredaines. L' habile neveu a commence pat interesser sa tante en sa 
faTeur, et a fini par faire de son oncle un Harpocrate. C ^tait le moyen 
de reussir ; car, pour fairs taire la censure, 11 n' y a rien de mieux que 
de fermer la boucbe au censeur. Noel. 

There were two persons of the name of Gellius at Rome in the time 
of Catullus— an uncle and nephew. The first was a notorious profligate, 
who had wasted his patrimony, and afterwards headed mobs in the forum 
for hire (Cicero, pro Sextio, c. 51). The nephew was equally dissolute. 
After the death of Caesar he conspired to assassinate Cassius in the midst 
of his army, and haTing been pardoned, deserted to Antony. One of the 
various crimes of which he was suspected identifies him as the Gellius 
branded by our poet, atfd whose vices were so enormous that all tlie 
water of the sea could not wash him clean. (Ixxxvii.) 

' For thee.] The first part of this poem, as far as the words "for thee," 
appears in some editions as a separate poem or fragment, numbered 

2 Upriffht.] Pium; a term which implies a conscientious regard for 
all social as well as religious duties. 
» In defiance of the gods.'] Viz. Venus and Cupid. 


denly a long-cherished love : it is hard, but do it how thou 
mayest. This is thine only safety ; this must be achieved by 
thee ; this thou shalt do, be it possible or impossible. ye 
gods, if it is your attribute to have pity, or if ever you 
granted aid to mortals in the very crisis of mortal agony, look 
upon my misery ; and if I have led ^ pure life, pluck from me 
this plague and destruction, which, creeping like a lethargy 
through every fibre of my frame, has expelled all gladness 
from my breast. I do not now ask that she may love me in 
return, or, what is impossible, that she should be chaste ; I 
desire myself to be healed, and to cast off this dire diseafte. 
Grant me this, O gods, in reward of my piety. 


Eurus, whom fruitlessly and in vain I treated as a friend ; 
fruitlessly ? nay, to my great loss and damage ; hast thou thus 
cajoled 'me, and consuming ray vitals, ravished from me all 
my joys ? Thou hast ravished them from me. cruel poison 
of my life ! plague of my friendship I /And uww I grieve 
that thou hast beslavered my girl's sweet lips with thy filthy 
kisses. But thou shalt not escape with impunity; for all 
ages shall know thee, and long-lived fame shall teU what 
thou art. 


Galltjs has brothers, one of whom has a very charming 
wife; the other a charming son. Gallus is a nice man; for 
he panders sweetly, and puts the handsome aunt and the 
handsome nephew to bed together. Gallus is a fool ; for he 
does not stop to consider that he is a husband and an uncle, 
before he demonstrates how an uncle may be made a cuckold. 


(GrELLius is handsome : who can doubt it? since Lesbia 
prefers him to you, CatuUus, and your whole race. Neverthe- 
less this handsome youth is at liberty to sell Catullus and his 
race, if he find three men of condition to salute him. 

LXXX. TO GELLIUS.' [See Metrical Version.} 
' To GelUus,'] Nous diras tu, Gellius, pourquoi tes Ifevres de rose out 




^ Was there no one in so great a multitude, Juventius, no 
nice fellow, to whom you might take it into your head to be- 
come attached, besides that host of yours from deadly malari- 
ous Pisaurum,! wanner then a gilded statue ; who is now 
dear to you, whom you dare to prefer to me ? Ah ! you know 
not what you do. 


If you would have Catullus owe his eyes tg you, Quintius, 
or aught else dearer to him than his eyes, if such thing there 
be, do not ravish from him what is much dearer to him than 
his eyes, or than anything still dearer. 


Lesbia says all sorts of abusive things of me, when her 
husband is by, and this is a great delight to that numskull. 
Ass ! do you not see that if she forgot me and said nothing, 
she would be all right ? Whereas now she snarls and rails, she 
not only remembers, but what is worse, she is angry : that is 
to say, she is on fire and she speaks. ■ 


Whenever Arrius had occasion to saythe word comniodi- 
ous he would say chommodious, and hinsidious when he meant 
insidious, and he hoped that he had spoken marvellously well 
when he had aspirated hinsidious as much as he ct)uld. I be- 
lieve his mother, his uncle Liber, and his maternal grand- 
father and grandmother spoke thus. When he was sent into 
Syria, our ears had all a respite, for they heard the same words 

pris la blancheur de la neige, lorsque dans les longs jours d' ^t6, la huiti- 
%xae heme t' arrache a la mollesse d' un repos voluptueux ? En croirons 
nous les bruits qui t' accusent de preter ta bouche a d' infames complais- 
sances ? II le taut bien ; 1' ^puisement de ton ami Victor, et les traces 
honteuses que conservent tes Ifevres d^colorees, ne deposent que trop 
centre vous deux. Noel. 

' Pisaurum.'] A town of Umbria noted for its insalubrity, now called 
Pesaro. Vossius says that in his time it had the same character, and 
there were few old inhabitants there. 


pronounced smoothly and lightly. Thenceforth they had no 
dread of them, when suddenly the horrible news arrives, that 
the Ionian waves, after Arrius had gone thither, were ' no 
longer Ionian but Hionian. 


I HATE and love. You ask perhaps how can that be. I 
know not ; but I feel that it is so, and I am tortured.' 

QuiNTiA is handsome in the opinion of many ; in mine she 
is fair, tall, straight; this I acknowledge; I admit these 
several details, but that aggregate " handsome" I deny ; for 
there is no loveliness, not a grain of piquancy, in her whole 
person, large as it is. Lesbia is handsome; for, beautiful all 
over as she is, she combines in her single self all the graces 
stolen from her whole sex. 

LXXXVII. [See note on LXXV.1 

What does he do,Gellius, who indulges his prurience with 
his mother and his sister, and is naked and busy all night ? 
What does he do, who suffers not his uncle to be a husband ? 
Have you any idea, what a load of guilt he takes upon him ? 
He takes upon him, Gellius, so much as not Tethys to her far- 
thest bounds, not Oceanus the farthest of the Nymphs, can 
wash away.' For there is no possible kind or form of guilt 
which can exceed this : Non si demisso se ipse voret capite. 


Gellius is thin ; and why not ? when he has such a kind 

' / hate and love, &c.] The reader may perhaps like to hear the opinion 
of the pure and saintly Fenelon concerning our obscene pagan author. 
" Catullus," he says, " whom we cannot name without shuddering at his 
obscenities, is perfection itself in impassioned simplicity. Odi et amo, 
&c. Compare him here with Ovid and Martial ; how far inferior are their 
ingenious and artificial points to these unadorned words, in which the 
suffering heart talks with itself alone in an access of despair." 

' Wash away.'] The ancients believed the sea had the virtue to 
purge moral impurity, and that not typically or metaphorically, but in 


mother, such a buxom and comely sister, such a good easy 
uncle, and such lots of female cousins,' how should he cease 
to be lean ? Though he never touches anything but what it is 
nefarious to touch, you will find cause enough why he should 
be as lean as you please. 


Let there be born from the nefarious commerce of 
Gellius and his mother a Magus, who shall learn the Persian 
system of augury. For a Magus must be born of a mother 
and her son, if the impious religion of the Persians is true, 
that their offspring may worship the gods with acceptable hymns, 
melting the fat omentum* in the flame of the altar. 


It was not because I know you well, Gellius, and thought 
you constant, or capable of refraining from infamous villany, 
that T hoped you would be faithful to me in this matter of my 
wretched, my desperate love ; but because I saw that this girl, 
for whom I was consumed with passion, was neither your 
mother nor your sister ; and though I had the experience of 
much personal intercourse to guide my judgment, I did not 
believe that there was enough in such a case to tempt you. 
You thought there was ; so great is your delight in every of- 
fence in which there is some mixture of enormous guilfe; 


Lesbia always abuses me, and never ceases to talk i^l^t 
me. May I die but Lesbia loves me. How does that »ppear 'i 
As if I am not perpetually reviling her just as much ; yet may 
I die but I love her.^ 

' Lots of female cotisins.] Omnia plena puellis cognatis. This very 
idiomatic expression is frequently used by Latin authors. Omnia miser 
riarum plenissima. Cic. Epist. 24, L. ii., ad Attic. Lacrymis omnia 
plena, Tibul. Eleg. 9, L. i. 

' Omentum.'] The fat of the -victim, wrapped in the omentum, a mem- 
braue that covers the intestines, was thrown into the fire on the altar, and 
auguries were drawn from the appearance of the flame. 

' Lesbia, &o.] Bussy de Eabutin has pretty well imitated this epigram : 



I DO not greatly care to court your good will, Csesar, nor to 
know whether you are white or black. 


The flesh sins : certainly the flesh sins. That is as much 
as to say, The pot gathers garden stuff for the pot.' 


At last my friend Cinna's Smyrna is published, after the 
lapse of nine years since it was begun ; whereas Hortensius 
has in the mean while thrown off his fifty thousand verses in 
one ***** The Smyrna shall reach as far as the 
deep waves of Atrax ;' distant ages shall peruse the Smyrna ; 
but the Annals of Volusius * # * and shall often furnish 
loose wrappers for mackarel. The brief works of my friend 
Cinna are precious to me * * ; but let the mob delight in 
the turgid Antimachus.* 

Phillis dit le diable de moi ; 

De son amour et de sa foi 

C'est Tine preuve assez nouvelle : 

Ce qui me fait croire pourtant 

Qu' elle ra' aime effectiseraent, 

C'est que je dis le diable d'elle, 

Et que je I'aime eperduraent. 
' The flesh, &c.] There is a double meaning in the original, and the 
translator can give but half of it. Mcntula, synonymous with penis, is a 
nickname applied by Catullus to Mamurra, of whom he says (cxv.) that 
he is not a man, but a great thundering mentula. Maherault has hap- 
pily rendered the meaning of the epigram in French, in which language 
there is an equivalent for Mentula, that is to say, a man's name which is 
also a popular synonyme for what characterizes the god Priapus. " Jean 
Chouard fornique; eh! sans doute, c'est bien Jean Chouard. C'est 
ainsi qu'on peut dire que c'est la marmite qui-eueillg^les choux." 

^ The Smyma."] The author of this lost poem was" flie iiidj^kyCjnna, 
who was torn " for his bad verses " by Antony's mob after thea!silBBna- 
tion of Caesar. The text of this poem is defective in three places. 

' AtraxJ] A town and riyer of Thessaly, introduced here merely to 
express distance. Volusius' Annals have been before celebrated. 

* Turgid Antimachus.'] A Greek poet who wrote an Epic poem on the 
Theban war ; and having composed twenty-four books without mention- 
ing Thebes, unfortunately died, and never got to his subject in this 
world. His name is used, here for any prolix and tiresome poet. 



If anything pleasing and acceptable can accrue to the mute 
grave from our sorrow, Calvus, and from the yearning with 
which we revive the memory of old loves, and weep over long- 
lost friendships ; ^ surely Quintilia mourns less her premature 
death, than she is gladdened by your love. 

XCVII. ON ^MILIUS.2 [See Metrical yersion.-} 


To you, stinking Vettius, if to any one, may be applied 
what is said to babblers and fools. "With that tongue of yours 

' The yearning, &c.] "The two lines of the original," says Lamb, 
" beginning Quo desideris, flow with a sweet melancholy that defies imi- 
tation. Shakspeare has a sonnet much resembling it in idea and ex- 
pression : 

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought 
I summon up remembrance of things past, 
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought. 
And with old woes new wail my time's dear waste. 
Then can I drown an eye (unused to flow) 
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night. 
And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe, 
And moan th' expense of many a ravish'd sight. 
° On JBmilius^ There is in the Greek Anthology a similar epigram 
by Nicarchus, which has been thus translated by Grotius : 
Non culo, Theodore, minus tibi foetida bucca est 

Noscere discrimen sit sapientis opus. 
Scribere debueras hie podex est meus, hie os : 

Nunc tu cum pedas atijne loquare simul, 
Discere non valeo, quid venerit inde vel inde ; 
Vipera namque infra sibilat atque supra. 
' To Vettius.'] Justus Lipsius has written a dissertation with regard 
to Vettius, whom he supposes to be the person mentioned in Cicero's Let- 
lers to Atticus, and by Suetonius, as having been suborned by Csesar to 
illow himself to be seized with a weapon on his person, and to confess 
that he had been employed by the chiefs of the senate to assassinate 
Pompey — a device contrived by Csesar in order to set Pompey and the 
senate at variance. Vettius was strangled in prison, and Cicero charged 
Fatinius with the murder. He had previously served Cicero as a spy in 
;he affair of Catiline's conspiracy, and had accused Csesar of being impli- 
cated in it. He was a dirty fellow (see Poem liv.) and' ready for any 
iirty work. 


you may wipe cowkeepers' shoes and nastier things yet, if you 
have occasion. If you wish utterly to destroy us all, Vettius, 
open your mouth ; you will effect your purpose to a certainty 


I SNATCHED from you, while you played, honeyed one, a kiss 
sweeter than sweet ambrosia ; but not with impunity ; for 
I remember that I hung for more than an hour on the cross, all 
the while endeavouring to excuse myself, but unable to abate 
your cruelty in the least. For as soon as the act was committed, 
you rinsed your lips again and again, and rubbed them with 
every joint of your fingers ; that no particle from my mouth 
should remain on them, as though it were the filthy slaver of 
a common trull. Moreover you have never ceased to subject 
my miserable being to the despites of love, and to torture me 
in every way : so that now that kiss is changed for me from 
ambrosia to be bitterer than bitter hellebore. Since such is 
the penalty you impose on unfortunate love, never more will 
I steal kisses. 

C. ON CCELIUS AND QUINCTIUS> [See MetricaZ Version.'] 


Thkough many nations,, over many seas I am come, bro- 
ther, to these sad funeral rites, to bestow upon thee the last 
gifts to the dead, and vainly to address thy mute ashes, since 
fortune has bereft me of thyself, ah ! poor brother, cruelly 
taken from me ! Now then accept those gifts, profusely 
watered with a brother's tears, which the ancient usage, de- 
rived from our ancestors, prescribes for the sad rites of tb i 
grave ; and now for ever hail, brother, and farewell I '■ 

' On CosHus and Quinctius.'] Ccelius et Quinctins, la fleur de 1»J 
nesse de V^rone, brulent tous deu-x, 1' uu pour Aufil^nus, 1' autre "^ 
Aufilfina. VoiU ce qu' on peut appeler une charmante confrate? i 
Pour qui seront mos vceux ? Pour 1' ami du frfere, on pour 1' amaw 
la scEur ? Coelius ! j' ai trop reconnu la sincerity de ton amiti<t^ 
que les feux d' amour qui m' embrasaient me rendaient son indul'^W 
ndcessaire. Puisse done 1' amour couronner tes ardeurs ! Puisa^' a| 
1e montrer digne des faveurs de 1' amour ! 



If ever anything was committed by a confiding friend to 
the secret keeping of another whose fidelity was thoroughly 
known, you will find me too, Cornelius, religiously bound to 
secrecy ; so think that I am become Harpocrates. 


Either be good enough to return me ten thousand sesterces, 
and then be as surly and savage as you please ; or if you like 
the money too well, cease, I beg, to be a pimp, and at the same 
time surly and savage. 


Do you believe that I could revile my life, who is dearer to 
me than both my eyes ? I neither could do so, nor if I could, 
should I love her so desperately. But you invent all sorts of 
monstrous things with your friend the tavern-keeper. 


Mentula 'Strives to climb the Pimplasan mountain : the 
Muses pitch him down headlong with forks. 

CVI. ON A BOY AND A PUBLIC CRIER.' [See Metrical Version.} 


If ever any one who desires and longs for anything, but haa 
no hope of it, obtains the object of his wishes, then is it pecu- 
liarly welcome to his soul : therefore it is welcome to me, and 
more precious than gold, that you, Lesbia, restore yourself to 
my longing breast. You restore yourself, and of your own 
accord give yourself back to me unexpectedly. O day of 
whiter mark ! Who can say what happier man lives than I, 
or what there is more to be desired in life than this ? 

' On a Boy, &c.] Un crieur paraitre en public k cbl€ &.' un jeune et 
beau gaiQon ! C est done pour afficher qu' il est a vendre et qu' il 
chetche cbalaud ? 



Ip your hoary age, Cominius, defiled by foul habits, were to 
perish by the sentence of the people, I make no doubt but that 
your tongue, so hostile to the good, would be cut out and 
thrown to a vulture ; the crow would pick out your eyes and 
swallow them down its black throat ; dogs would devour your 
intestines, and wolves the rest of your carcase. 


Mt hfe, my Lesbia, you profess that this love of ours shall 
be mutually fond and perpetual. Great gods ! grant that she 
may be able to promise truly, and that she say this sincerely 
and from her soul ; that we may be permitted to maintain 
throughout our lives this hallowed bond of affection. 


Goop friendly wenches ar.e always praised, Aufilena ; they 
take the price of what they mean to perform. But you are the 
reverse of good and friendly, because you have made me 
promises and not kept them ; and forasmuch as you never 
give, and often take, you are criminal. It became you, Au- 
filena, either as a frank, honest girl to keep your word, or as 
a modest girl not to promise. But to clutch what is given 
you, and bilk the giver, exceeds the infamy of the greediest 
harlot, that prostitutes herself with her whole body. 


To live content with one husband, Aufilena, is the first 
among the choicest glories of married women ; but it is allow- 
able to yield to any lover, rather than to be the mother of one's 
own cousins german.' 

CXII. ON NAS0.8 [See Metrical Version.] 

' Cousins german.^ Fratres ex patruo. Uncles' sons were called yVoirM 
orfratres patrueles. Thus- in Ovid, Ajax claims as a brother's right the 
arms of his dead cousin Achilles : Frater erat,fratema peto. Metam. 13. 

^ On Naso.'] A tes yeux, Nason, tu es un grand personnage. Mais 
comment concilier cette haute opinion de toi meme avec 1' Strange hu- 
miliation a la quelle tu te soumcts ? 



When Pompey was consul the first time, there were two 
known adulterers in Eome ; when he was again made consul, 
the number was stiU two ; but several thousands have been 
superadded to each one of the pair. Adultery is prolific. 

YouK Formian estate, Mentula, is not untruly reputed rich, 
for how many fine things does it comprise ! Feathered game of 
all kinds, fish, beasts, pasture and arable lands. All in vain ; 
for your expenditure exceeds the income. I grant then your 
estate is rich, but you are destitute ; let us praise the wealth of 
your estate, but you are a beggar. 


Mentula has something like thirty acres of meadow and 
forty of arable land : the rest is as icide as the sea. Why can 
he not surpass Croesus in wealth, who possesses so many fine 
things in one domain ; meadows, arable land, vast woods 
and forests, and marshes, stretching away to the world's end 
and to the ocean ? AU these are great ; but greatest of all 
by far is himself, no man, but truly a great threatening 



Though often inquiring how I might send you the poems of 
Battiades to be carefully investigated, that so I might soften 
you towards me, and that you might not attempt to prick my 
head with your gnat's sting ; I now see that I took all this 
trouble in vain, Gellius, and that my prayers to that eflfect 
were of no avail.' So then I will ward off your weapons with 
my cloak alone, but you shall suffer condign punishment, pierced 
by mine. 

' Though often inquiring, &c.] On this epigram Lamb remarks : 
" From the former poems on Gellius, it would not be expected to find Ca- 
tullus at last trying to conciliate him by the compliment of asking for his 
criticisms. This poem however shows that it was so, and that the attempt 
had failed." We notice this remark as an instance of the false inferences 
often drawn from the order in which the poems of Catullus are arranged, 
as if that was chronological. For aught we know to the contrary, this 
epigram is just as likely to have been the first as the last addressed to 

H 2 


To-MOEEOW let those love, who have never loved ; let those 
who have loved, love to-morrow. 

The new spring is come, the warbling spring, the season 
in which the world was born. In spring the loves impel to 
union ; in spring the birds mate together, and the woods, 
quickened by prolific showers, shake loose their locks of ver- 
dure. To-morrow she who knits the bonds of love will visit 
the shady groves, and twine the myrtle sprays into green 
bowers : to-morrow, seated on her lofty throne, Dione pub- 
lishes her edicts. 

To-morrow, &c. 

It was in spring that, from its foamy womb, impregnated 
by celestial blood, the mighty deep produced Dione,^ floating 

' The Vigil of Venus.'] This pretty poem has been by turns ascribed 
to a great number of authors, among the rest, to Catullus ; but all the 
learned are now agreed that it is certainly the ■work of an anonymous 
writer, and probably of the second century, if not of later date. The 
language of the piece is evidently that of an age of degenerate Latinity, 
and in its florid htxuriance, as well as in certain peculiarities of expres- 
sion, it exhibits the closest affinity to that African school, of which 
Apuleius is the most remarkable example. When the poem was first 
rescued from oblivion by Pierre Pithou and Claude Saumaise, the text 
was corrupt in every line, sometimes in every word of a line ; and al- 
though much labour has since been bestowed on its correction, its condi- 
tion in many places is still far from satisfactory. The subject of the 
poem is the Festival of Venus, which was celebrated on the first three 
days of April, beginning at nightfall on the last day of March. For, 
says Macrobius, Satumal. i. 21, "When the sun ascends above the 
lower parts of the earth, and passes the bounds of the vernal equinox, 
lengthening the days, then is Venus glad, the fair fields are green with 
corn, the meadows with grass, the trees with leaves. For this reason our 
forefathers dedicated the month of April to Venus." 

^ Produced Dione.'] The " celestial blood " of w^iich Dioue or Venus 
was engendered, was that which fell from the god CceIus, when he was 
mutilated by his son Saturn, the father of Jove. 


over the waves, amidst the azure throngs of Tritons and 
Nereids, and the biped horses.' 

To-morrow, &c. 

She paints the year with flowers that purple it as with 
gems ; she urges the buds, swelling with the breath of Zephyr, 
into the warm bridal bed of air ;'^ she scatters the bright dewy 
moisture left by the humid air of night ; how its tears glitter 
and tremble as if they would fall ; but each pendent drop re- 
mains self-balanced by its little orb. That moisture which 
the stars shed in the calm night loosens the virgin buds in the 
morning from their hiimid robe, and displays the crimson 
blushes of the flower. She has commanded that to-morrow 
all the virgins shall wear roses. The rose tinged with the blood 
of Venus,' perfumed by the kisses of Love, and glowing with 
the lustre of gems, of flames, of the siin's orient splendours, 
to-morrow will not be ashamed to loose as a bride her last 
knot, and display the crimson concealed beneath her robe of 

To-morrow, &c. 

The goddess hath bidden the Nymphs assemble in the myrtle 
grove. Her boy accompanies them ; but Love cannot be 
trusted as a harmless associate in the festival if he carries his 
arrows. Go, Nymphs ; Love has laid aside his arms, he is 
harmless. He is ordered to go unarmed and naked, that he 
may do no mischief with his bow, or his arrows, or Ms torch. 
Yet, Nymphs, beware, for Cupid is beautiful. Love is all 
armed even when he is naked. 

To-morrow, &c. 

' Biped horses.] Tlie horses of Neptune were, like seals, furnished 
only with fore feet, and these were webbed. 
- The warm bridal bed of air.] We read with Lipsius in toros tepentis. 
' The blood of Venus.] The following epigram tells how this happened : 
Ilia quidem studiosa suum defendere Adonim, 

Gradivus stricto quem petit ense ferox, 
Affixit duris vestigia cffica rosetis, 
Albaque divino picta cruore rosa est. 

While the enamour'd queen of joy 
Flies to protect her lovely boy, 

On whom the jealous war-god rushes ; 
She treads upon a thorned rose, 
And wliile the wound with crimson flows, 

The snowy flowret feels her blood, and blushes ! Mooee. 


Virgin of Delos, Venus sends tliee virgins modest as thy- 
self. There is one thing we beg of thee. Leave this grove 
to her avrhile unsullied by the slaughters of the chase. She 
would fain invite thee if thy maiden modesty would yield to 
her prayer. She would gladly see thee at her festival if the 
scene were not repugnant to thy virgin mind. For three 
nights thou wouldst see the festive choirs, crowned with 
flowers, wandering through the groves, or disporting in its 
myrtle bowers. Ceres and Bacchus ' will be there, and the 
god of the poets ; the whole wakeful night will resound with 
song. Dione shall reign in the woods ; give place to her, 

To-morrow, &c. 

The goddess hath commanded a tribunal to be reared of 
flowers of Hybla. She will preside there ; the Graces will 
be her assessors. Hybla, pour out every flower that the year 
produces ; Hybla, cast forth a tapestry of flowers, vast as that 
which adorns the plain of Enna. Hither will come the Nymphs 
of the fields and the mountains, and those that dwell in forests, 
groves, and streams. The mother of the winged boy has 
bidden them all to attend, and has enjoined them not to trust 
Love though he be naked. 

To-morrow let those love, who have never loved ; let those 
who have loved, love to-morrow, and weave a verdant shade 
with new-opened flowers. The day returns to-morrow on 

' Ceres and Bacchus.^ Every one knows the aphorism in Terence's 
Eunuch, " Sine Cerere et Baccho friget Venus," " Without Ceres and 
Bacchus Venus freezes ;" or, as Le Noble oddly paraphrases it, 

Point de beau feu sans la marmite ; 

Mille acoidens m'ont convaincu 

Que I'Amour n'est qu'uu froid-au-cu. 

Si Ceres et Bacchus ne marchent a sa suite. 

After the line of the original beginning Nee Ceres, nee Bacchus, Lipsius 
places the four following, which he believes to be by the author of the 
Vigil: , ' 

Hie Apollo, deinde Liber hie videtur ignifer ; 

Ambo flammis sunt creati, prosatique ex ignibus ; 

Ambo de comis calorem, vite, radio conserunt : 

Noctis hie rumpit tenebras, hie tenebras pectoris. 

" Here are seen Apollo and fire-giving Bacchus ; both were born of flames 
and begotten of lire ; both shed warmth from what crowns their brows, 
the vine, and the rays : the one bursts the gloom of night, the other the 
gloom of the breast." 


which the primal sether consummated its nuptials ; ' that he, 
the father of the dew, might beget the year with his innu- 
merable clouds, The bridegroom-shower flowed into the bo- 
som of his genial spouse, and spread throughout her vast body 
to nurture all its germs of life. The great procreant goddess 
herself breathing through all the veins and the mind, governs 
them with occult powers ; suffuses her penetrating influence 
by every channel of generation through heaven and earth, 
and the sea's depths ; and bids the world know the ways of 

To-morrow, &c. 

She transported the Trojan Penates to the shores of La- 
tium ; she gave the Laurentian maid as a spouse to her son 
-^neas ; she gave a chaste vestal to the arms of Mars ; she 
effected the marriage of the Romans with the Sabines, whence 
sprang the Ramnes and the Quirites, and for the weal of 
Romulus's remote descendants — the Caesars, father and ne- 

To-morrow, &c. 

The goddess of Pleasure fructifies the fields ; they feel the 
presence of Venus ; Love himself, Dione's son, is said to 
have been born among them.^ It was when they were in their 
season of parturition that his mother first folded him to her 
bosom, and she reared his infancy on the perfumed juice of 

To-morrow, &c 

' Consummated its nuptials.] Of all marriages the most ancient is that 
of the air with the earth, and it is renewed every year in spring. This 
idea, and the very forms in which it is here expressed, are taken from 
Virgil, Georg. ii. 325. Stanley cites a kindred passage from Euripides, 
which he thus renders : 

How far Cythera's power extends 

No speech, no fancy comprehends. 

Me, thee, and all she doth sustain. 

The barren earth affects the rain : 

Heaven big with showers, this Queen of Loves 

To fall into Earth's bosom moves : 

These two, commixed with mutual heat, 

All things that serve mankind, beget. 

« Love himself, &c.] Tibullus gives the same account of the birth of 
Love, Book ii. El. 1. 


The bonds of marriage bind all creatures. See the bulls 
spread their broad flanks over the brooms ; the bleating ewes 
flock to the shade -with the rams ; the lakes resound with the 
hoarse voice of the swan ; and the goddess has forbidden the 
tuneful birds to be silent. The nightingale sings in the shade 
of the poplar, that you would suppose she was uttering in 
music the emotions of love, not that she was complaining to 
her sister of the barbarity of Tereus. She sings : we are silent ! 
When shall my spring come ? When shall I be like Chelidon, 
and silent" never more ? I have lost the Muse's favour by 
keeping silence, and Phoebus no longer regards me. So was 
Amyclaj undone by silence.^ 
To-morrow, 8sc.^ 

' Amycl(B undone by silenceJ]^ Amyclse was a town of Italy between 
Cuieta and Terracina. Its people having been frequently terrified by false 
alarms of the approach, of besiegers, passed a law forbidding that any 
one should make report of danger on any grounds whatever. The be- 
siegers came at last, and the place was taken by surprise. 

^ It was with reference to this poem that Dousa (Van des Deos) plan- 
ned a hoax upon his learned contemporaries, like that which Muretus 
practised on Scaliger. He gave out that one of his friends had seen 
another Vigil in a library in France, and had retained these four lines of 
it in his memory — 

Nemo tentis raentulis det, nemo nervis otium. 

Ecce passeres salaces, ecce rauci turtures, 

Hac super virenti myrto nos amoris adnionent. 

JJJemo tentis, etc. 
The trick succeeded ; the learned unanimously recognised the genuine 
air of antiquity in this fragment ; and when they were undeceived, they 
consoled them as Scaliger had done, by virulently abusing the clever 




Let another heap up wealthy store of yellow gold,^ and 
hold many thousand acres ^ -of cultivated land; so shall he be 
troubled with incessant dread of the approaching enemy, and 
his slefep be scared by the trumpet's blast. As for me, let 
my poverty consign me to a life without excitement, whilst the 

' Elegy /.] An invitation from Messala to accompany him to the wars, 
with a view to repairing the poet's fortunes, appears to have been the 
occasion of this Elegy, in which Tibnllus declares his determination to 
abandon the pursuit of wealth and power, and to retire to the country, 
there to lead a life of calm and simple enjoyment with the girl of his 
heart. We may confidently fix the date of the poem about the begin- 
ning of B. c. 31, the year in which Messala won the battle of Actium 
for Octavius. According to Scaliger and Bronkhusius, whose arrange- 
ment of the text we generally follow, this Elegy consists of 92 lines ; 
Heyne and the Vulgate give it 78. TibuUus has sufiered a twofold injury 
at the hands of ignorant copyists, who, not content with mutilating and 
changing his words, have in many instances broken the order of his 
lines, and shuffled them about in pairs and in scores in the most ran- 
dom manner. 

^ Gold, &c.] The poet here specifies wealth in money and wealth in 
land, both however with reference to the " praemia militiffi." The soldier 
acquired gold by direct plunder from his foes, and at this period it was the 
practice to make an assignment of land to each veteran when discharged 
from service. 

' Mamy acres-l Jitgera. The Roman Jugerum contained two actus, 
the actiis being a square whose side was one hundred and twenty Roman 
feet. The Roman foot was equal to 11'64 English inches. From these 
data it is easily calculated that the jugerum was not quite two-thirds of 
an English acre. 


fire on my hearth is always bright ; ' nor let hope disappoint 
me, but always yield me heaps of fruit, and a vat full of rich 
must. ' Myself a rustic, I will plant my tender vines and large 
apples with ready hand in due- season. Nor yet wiU I shame 
to handle the fork at times, or to- hasten the slow oxen with 
the goad, I will not be loth to carry home the lamb in my 
bosoni, or the kid deserted by its mother. Here it is my 
yearly custom to fumigate, my shepherd, and to sprinkle the 
altar of the placid Pales ^ with milk; for I revere every 
divinity, whether a forlorn bole in the fields, or an old stone in 
a forking of the' roads bear flowery garlands ; and whatever 
apples the new year rears for ine, their firstlings are placed 
before the goddess of the fields. 

Yellow Ceres, let there be a crown woven from the corn- 
ears of our crOp, to hang before the door of thy temple ; and 
let Priapus, ruddy* guardian, stand in my orchard to frighten 
the birds with his menacing sickle. And you too receive 
your oiFerings. my Lares,* guardians of a onee rich, now poor, 

^ Ths f/te — nlways bright.'] Assiduo luceat igne focus : or, if we read 
exiguo, for which there is equal MS. authority, " whilst my hearth shines 
with a small fire." The chief objection to assiduo is the occurrence of 
the same word three lines before. On the other hand exiguo would per- 
haps imply sordid poverty, as Ramsay remarks. The " blazing hearth" 
was the emblem of domestic comfort among the Romans as well as among 
ourselves. There is a sepulchral inscription preserved in Fabretti, c. iv. 
283, apparently engraved by a husband as a memorial to his wife and 
friend, which concludes with these words, — tvnc. mevs.Jassidve. sempeb. 


2 Pales.'] The goddess of shepherds. See II. v. 

' Ruddy.] Ruber. Painted with vermilion. See Virg. E. i. 26. 
Pliny has a curious passage (N. H. xxxiii. 7) on the custom practised 
by the early Romans of adorning the faces of their gods, and even the 
bodies of their triumphant generals, triumphaniumgue corpora, with red 
paint. Camillua, he says, followed that fashion when he triumphed. 

< Lares.'] The word Lar is of Tuscan origin, and in that language 
was a title of honour, equivalent, apparently, to chief or prince. Thus we 
read of Lar Porsenna, king of Clusium, Lar Tolumnius, king of the 
Veiientes. The testimony of those among the Romans who were best quali- 
fied to form an opinion upon such a subject is so precise that we can enter- 
tain no doubt that, according to the popular belief, the deities denominated 
Lares were certain spirits of dead men, who were supposed to watch over 
and protect the living. They were very numerous, and were ranked in 
classes according to the departments over which they presided, the iirst 
grand division being into private and public Lares. The former were 
tutelary spirits who received the homage of all the individuals residing 
under the same roof. The spot peculiarly sacred to them was fhefocm 


domain. In those days a slaughtered calf was the propitia- 
tory sacrifice for vast herds ; now a lamb is a sumptuous vic- 
tim to -come from my small estate. A lamb shall fall before 
you, and round it the rustic youth shall cry : " lo ! give us a 
plenteous harvest and a good vintage." Favour us with your 
presence, go(ls ; scorn not the gifts of a poor table, nor liba- 
tions from' clean, pottery. Such vessels the husbandman of 
yore made for himself and formed them of ductile clay. 

And you, ye thieves and wolves, spare my few heads of 
cattle, and take your prey from large herds. I do not regret 
the wealth of my fathers, and the plenty which their stored 
liarvests afforded of yore. For me a small crop is enough ; it 
is enough to rest under my own roof, if I may, and to stretch 
my limbs on my wonfed couch. How delightful it is to hear 
the pitiless winds as we lie in bed, and fold the mistress we 
love to our bosom ; or when the wintry south wind pours 
down its sleety waters, to sleep on securely, lulled by the 
plashing rain ! Let this be my lot. Let him grow rich, as is 
but fair, who can bear the rage of the sea and the dismal rain. 
Now I, who am content to live on a little, cannot do this, nor 
can I be alway resigned to" long wayfaring ; ' but my choice is 

or hearth, situated in the principal apartment (^atrium), and considered 
the central point of the mansion. Here stood the altar for domestic 
sacrifice, and near to this there was usually a niche, containing little 
images of these gods, and denominated lararium cedicnla, which in the 
sumptuous palaces of later times was not unfrequently enlarged into a 
chapel with magnificent decorations. The public Lares were of several 
kinds: e. g. Lares Rurales, guardians of flocks, herds, and fruits of the 
earth : the poet addresses' these in the lines before us : Lares Compitales, 
worshipped at the spot where two or more roads crossed ; Lares Prastites, 
protectors of the city, &c. &c. The Lares bear a striking resemblance to 
the saints of modern Italy. Moreover the holy books of the Etruscans 
described certain sacred rites, by means of which the souls of men might 
be changed into gods, a process somewhat analogous to canonization. 
The Penates were the deities worshipped in the perms, or innermost part 
of the house. Penates is a generic term, and includes the Lares and cer- 
tain other gods who were worshipped at the hearth, especially Vesta, who 
was herself the Goddess of the Hearth. — Ramsay. 
' Now I, who am content, &c.] 

Jam modo non possum contentus vivere parvo. 
Nee semper longse deditus esse viae. 
The first of these lines has greatly perplexed all the editors ; for, separ- 
ated from its true context, and punctuated as above, it seems to express 
the very reverse of its author's undoubted meaning. The difiiculty arises 


to shun the heat when the sultry dogstar is in the ascendant, 
reposing under the shade of foliage, beside the running stream.' 
Oh perish all the gold and gems^ in the world rather than any 
girl should weep for my wayfaring ! 

y It is for thee, Messala, to war by land and sea, that thy 
house may display the spoils of the foe. Me the bonds of a 
fair girl hold captive, and I sit like a gate-keeper' before her 
obdurate door. I care not to be praised, my Delia ; only let 
me be with thee, and I am content to be called slow and 

entirely from the dislocation we have spoken of in a preceding note ; for 
in most editions the foregoing twenty-five lines, from "Adsitis divi," 
" Favour us with your presence, gods," down to " ferre potest pluvias," 
" can bear, &c. the dismal rain," are printed out of their proper place. 
After their restoration to it, nothing more is wanted to make the sense 
quite clear, except a comma after ^osswm. 

' Under tJie shade of foliage, Si-c."] In Dunlop's notice of Catullus (Hist. 
Rom. Lit.) we find a passage which commends itself especially to the reader 
of TibuUus : " The Romans, and particularly the Roman poets, as if the 
rustic spirit of their Italian ancestry was not altogether banished by the 
buildings of Rome, appear to have had a genuine and exquisite relish for 
the delights of the country ; not as we are apt to enjoy it, for the sake of 
exercise or field sports, but for its amenity and repose, and the mental 
tranquillity which it diffused. With them it seems to have been tmly — 

' The relish for the calm delight 

Of verdant fields and fountains bright ; 

Trees that nod on sloping hills, 

And caves that echo tinkling rills.' 
Love of the country among the Romans thus^hjcame conjoined with the 
idea of a life of pastoral tranquillity and retirement, a life of iiiendship, 
liberty, and repose, free from labour and from care, and from all turbu- 
lent passions. Scenes of this kind delight and interest us supremely, 
whether they be painted as what is hoped or what is enjoyed. We feel 
how natural it is for a mind with a certain disposition to relaxation and 
indolence, when fatigued With the bustle of life, to long for serenity and 
quiet, and for those sequestered scenes in which they can be most exqui- 
sitely enjoyed. There is much less of this in the writings of the Greeks, 'i 
who were originally a seafaring and piratical, not, like the Italians, a pas- 
toral, Ijeople. It is thus that even in their highest stage of refinement 
the manners and feelings of nations bear some affinity to their original 
rudeiiess, though that rudeness itself has been imperceptibly converted 
into a source of elegance and ornament." 

2 Gems.'] Smaragdi. It appears extremely probable that the ancients 
gave this name not merely to the precious gem which we call an emerald, 
but also to fluor spar, green vitrified lava, (green Iceland agate,) green 
jasper, and green glass. 

^ / sit, &c.] A remark of Heyne's happily disposes of the apparent 
incongruity between the two images of wearing chains and sitting as a 
door-keeper. Porters in Rome were chained to the doors. 


spiritless. /Let me be free to yoke my oxen ; so I be but with 
thee; my Delia, and to feed my flock on the lone mountain ; 
and, if I may but hold thee in my fond arms, soft be my sleep 
on the rude ground ! What boots it to lie down on a Tyrian 
couch without favouring love, when the sleepless night must 
be passed in tears ? Vain then are down, and richly dyed 
tapestry, and even the gentle murmuring of water, to induce 
slumber. The man were iron who, when he could have thee, 
should stupidly prefer to follow arms and rapine. He may 
drive before -him vanquished troops of Cilicians, and pitch 
his martial camp on the conquered soil ; caparisoned all over 
with gold and silver, he may bestride his swift steed in all the 
pomp of his glory. / Let me behold thee when my last hour is 
come, thee let me hold with my dying hand^' Thou wilt weep, 
Delia, when I am laid on the funeral pile, and thou wilt give 
me kisses mingled with sad tears ; thy bosom is not cased in 
hard ironj nor hast thou flint in thy tender heart. No youth, 
no virgin will be able to return from that funeral with dry 
eyes. But pain not my Manes ; spare thy dishevelled hair, 
Delia, and spare thy tender cheeks. 

Meanwhile, as long as the fates permit, let us indulge our 
mutual love. Soon death will come with its head wrapt in 
gloom ; soon sluggish age will creep upon us ; nor will it be 
seemly to love or to talk amorously with hoary heads. Now 
is our time to ply light Venus, whilst we may without blush- 
ing break doors, and commit riotous frolics. In this warfare 
I am a captain and a good soldier. Banners and trumpets, 
begone ! Bestow wounds and rich booty on heroes who long 
for them ; as for me, secure in the store I possess, I will 
despise both opulence and penury. 

• Let me behold theeS\ No other poet so often introduces the dismal 
images of death. TibuUus does not, like Anacreon or Catullus, present 
them for a moment, or on the back-ground of his pictures of joy, but ex- 
hibits them at full length and on the front of the canvass. When he 
thinks of death he thinks so profoundly, and so long contemplates its 
ifliage, that the ideas it suggests must have occupied a large space in his 
soul. Even to the most joyous thoughts of TibuUus some mournful_ or 
plaintive sentiment is generally united, and his most gay and smiling 
figures wear chaplets of cypress on their brows. While deeming himself 
liappy in comparison with the great Messala, because he will pass his life 
unknown in the arms of Delia, he thus concludes his address to this be- 
loved mistress : " Let me behold thee," &c. Dunlop. 



Moke wine ! Lull my new pains with wine, till sleep hold 
my weary eyes in subjection. Let no one wake me as I lie 
with my bi-ain drenched by Bacchus, and have a respite from 
the wretchedness of love. Let me drink ; for a stern watch- 
is set upon my girl, and the obdurate door is firmly barred 
upon her for the night. ' Surly door, may the rain beat upon 
thee, may the lightning smite thee by Jove's command. 
Open, door, for me only, subdued by my plaintive entreaties, i 
afad make no noise as thou turnest stealthily on "thy hinges. 
And if my crazy passion has given thee any bad words, par- 
don me ; let them be upon my aWn head, I pray. Remember 
all the thousand things I said to thee, in suppliant tone, when 
I hung thy frame with garlands of flowers.^ And thou too, 
Delia, be not afraid to elude thy guards. Be venturous ; 
Venus herself aids the, bold. She favours enterprise whether 
some youth assays new thresholds or a girl opens the barred 
doors. She teaches how to creep stealthily out of the soft 
bed ; how to step with noiseless foot ; how to converse in 
speaking signs in presence of a husband, and to convey hidden 
phrases of soft import in preconcerted tokens. 

Nor does she teach this to all, but only to those who are 
neither laggards, nor forbidden by fear to rise in the dark night. ^^ !, 
As for me, when I wander anxiously over the whole city in 
darkness, Venus makes me fearless in the darkness, nor does 
she let any one meet me to wound my iody with steel, or to 

' Elegy 7/.] Delia having married during her lover's absence from ',■ 
Rome, he tries to drown his grief in wine. Then he alternately abuses : 
and coaxes her obdurate door, and begs her to summon courage enough v= 
to admit him, assuring her that he has procured magic means to hinder 
all discovery. 

' Garlands.'] We have already seen that this kind of gallantry was 
much practised by the Romans : thus Lucretius : 

At lacrimans exclusus amator limina ssepe 
Floribus, et sertis operit, postesque superbos 
Ungit amaracyno. 
Meantime excluded, and exposed to cold, 
The whining lover stands before the gates, 
And there with humble adoration waits ; 
Crowning with flowers the threshold and the floor, 
And printing kisses on -the obdurate door. Drtdbs. ! 


make booty of my garments.' Whoever is possessed by love, 
mgy go where he will, safe and sacred ; it is not for him to 
fear any lurking dangers. I am not hurt by the numbing 
cold of the winter nights ; nor when the rain falls in torrents ; 
all this does not harm me, if only Delia unclose the door, 
and mutely summon me to the beck of her finger. Man or 
woman who come in my way, hold oiF with lights ! Venus 
chooses that her thefts should be concealed. Alarm me not 
with the sound of your feet ; ask not my name, nor bring the 
light of a blazing torch near me. If any indiscreet person see 
me, let him forget who I am, and swear by all the gods he 
does not know me. For should any one chatter, he shall be 
made to feel that Venus is born of blood and of the swiftly- 
roused sea. 

Your husband however will not believe this impertinent 
meddler, as a truth-telling sorceress hath assured me by means 
of her magic art. I have seen her draw down the stars from 
heaven ; she turns the course of the swift lightning by her 
incantations ; she cleaves the earth, brings out the Manes from 
the sepulchres, and calls down the bones from the still 
smould lug pile. Now she makes the infernal hosts swarm 
round iicr with her magic screamings,- and now she bids them 
be gone, sprinkling them with milk. When she pleases, she 
sweeps away the clouds from the sombre sky ; when she 
pleases, she calls down the snow in summer by a word from 
her mouth. She is said to possess alone all the evil herbs 
known to Medea, alone to have brought the fierce dogs of He- 
cate under subjection. This witch has composed for me chants 
by which you may deceive all eyes. Chant thrice, spit thrice^ 
after reciting the charm ; your husband will be unable to be- 

• To wound my body, &c.] • During the civil warSj and for a long time 
after them, Rome was full of thieves and cut-throats. 

' Spit thrice.^ The poor Irishwoman who spits for luck on the first 
coin she takes in the day, has classical authority for the practice. The 
reader who wishes to be informed of the many uses made of spittle in 
medicine, in magic, in expiations, in averting witchcraft, and in concili- 
ating love, may consult Pliny the Elder, and those commentators whom 
Brockhusius has quoted. The Romans had great faith in it as a pre- 
servative against fascination. Accordingly on the day when an infant 
was named (the eighth after hirth for girls, the ninth for boys) the grand- 
mother or aunt, walking round it in a ring, rubbed, with her middle finger, 
the child's forehead with spittle, which was hence called lustralis saliva. 
The occult potency of odd numbers is well known. 



Ueve any one's tale about us, or even himself though he see 
us with his own eyes on the soft bed. Abstain however from 
others ; for he will discern all else ; of me alone he will know 

What shall I think of it ? This same witch actually told 
me that she could dissolve my love by incantations or herbs. 
She fumigated me with torches, and a black victim was sa- 
crificed in the dead of night to the magic gods. I prayed not 
that my love should wholly depart, but that it should be re- 
ciprocated; nor can I wish to be able to live without you.' 


You will traverse the ^gean waves without me, Messala ; 
may the gods grant that you and your followers remember me. 
Phaeacia^ detains me, a sick man in her unknown land : keep 
off thy hands, violent death ; keep them off, black death, I 
implore. My mother is not here to gather my burned bones to 
her sad bosom ; nor my sister to pour Assyrian odours on my 
ashes, and weep with dishevelled hair before my sepulchre. 
There is no Delia here, who, when she was about to let me go 
from the city, is said to have first consulted all the gods. 
Thrice she drew the boy's sacred lots ; * the boy brought 

' To live without you."] Though this is evidently the conclusion of the 
Elegy, yet some editors have strangely tacke^d to it " Ferreus ille fuit," 
and the thirteen following lines, which belong to the first Elegy, And not 
content with this, they have forced " Num Veneris magnee," and the 
seven succeeding verses, from their natural place in the fifth Elegy of this 
book, and have added them to the other transposition. 

" Ehgy J//.] Soon after his successful campaign in Aquitania, Mes- 
sala was despatched by Augustus on a mission to the East. TibuUus 
formed one of his retinue, but was taken ill and compelled to remain 
behind at Corcyra, where this Elegy was composed, B. c. 29. 

^ FheeaA>ia.'] The island of Corcyra, now Corfu. 

* The tofa.] Sortes. These were of various kinds. The first words 
spoken by the virgin in the temple of Juno were the sortes in cases of 
marriage ; as the first spoken by a boy in the high-way, gave the omen 
commonly depended upon before a journey was undertaken. An example 
will better explain this obscure piece of superstition. A lady who was 
betrothed went with a young companion to the temple of the goddess of 
marriage to watch the first words spoken by a woman. Anxiously at- 
tentive, she seated herself while her companion stood. Two hours having 
passed without a word being uttered, or anybody entering the temple, 
the younger at last said, " My dear, I am tired ; will you permit me to 


her news of sure omens from the streets. Everything prog- 
nosticated my return, yet nothing could hinder her from weep- 
ing and turning to look after me as I went. I myself, to 
console her,'Trhen I had already given orders for my departure, 
still anxiously sought for pretexts to delay; and alleged 
either an unpromising appearance of the birds, or dire omens, 
or that Saturn's unluc^ky day' detained me. Oh how often 
at the outset of my journey did I say that a stumble at the 
threshold 2 had given me sinister warning ! Let no one dare 
to set out on a journey in spite of love, or if he does, let him 
know that his course is begun under the prohibition of the 

What does your Isis for me now, Delia ? What avail me 
those brazen sistra of hers so often shaken by your hand ?^ 
Or what am I the better for remembering that, while you 
were pursuing her rites, you bathed purely and lay alone in 

sit in your chair a little ? " These were the first words. The sequel ac- 
corded with them. The betrothed lady died soon after, and the other was 
married to the bridegroom in her stead. Another way of taking the lots 
was by means of slips of parchment or pieces of wood, upon which certain 
words or sentences were inscribed. They were shuffled together i;i a bcTx 
or urn ; one was drawn or shaken out at random, and a concl'ui'ion drawn 
from the import of its inscription. Fortune-tellers dr^^^e a brisk trade' in 
Rome, and frequented the Forum, the Circus Jliiimus, and other places 
of public resort. In the case before us, Delia sent a boy to a place where 
three ways met, that he might watch for an omen ; or if we read trinis 
instead of triviis, she employed him to draw the lots from the urn three 
times — the mystical number. 

' Saturn's unlueky day.'] It was doubtless from observing the conduct 
of the Jews on their sabbath, which corresponded with Saturn's day, 
(Saturday,) that the superstitious Romans thought that an unlucky day 
to begin a journey. Thus Ovid, A. A. i. 415, 

Quaque dies redeunt rebus minusX^pta gerendis 
Culta Pala!Stino septima sacra Syro. 
" The passage before us," says Ramsay, " is remarkable as being the first 
in which we find mention of a day of the week named after a planet, 
and it is by no means certain that the planetary names for the other si? 
were at this time known to the Romans." 

= Stumble at the threshold.'] The worst of all omens to a person set- 
ting out upon a journey, or about to begin any important undertaking. 

' Sistrum,:] A bronze instrument which the worshippers of Isis held 
in their hands, and shook whilst performing their devotions. It re- 
sembled the frame of a racket or battledore in miniature, with trans- 
verse rods' loosely fitted in, by means of which a jingling sound was 

114 TlBtlLLUS. 

a pure bed. Now, now, goddess, succour me ; for that man 
may be healed by thee, is proved by many a picture in thy 
temples. Let my Delia, dressed in linen,i sit before thy sacred 
doors, performing vigils vowed for me ; and twice a day, with 
haJE unbound, conspicuous among the Pharian crowd, let her 
recite thy due praises ; but be it my lot to Celebrate my native 
Penates, and io oiFer monthly incense to my ancient Lar. 

How happily men lived when Saturn reigned, before the 
earth was laid open by long rAads ! Not yet had the pine 
contemned the azure waves, and shaken out its bellying sails 
to the winds, nor had the roving mariner, seeking gain in un- 
known lands, loaded his ship with foreign merchandise. In 
those days the strong bull did not bear the yoke ; the horse 
did not champ the bit in his subject mouth ; no house had 
doors ; there was no stone fixed on the fields, to mark the 
precise boundaries of each man's crop ; the very oaks yielded 
honey, and the sheep spontaneously offered their milky udders, 
and gave no trouble to those who wanted them. There were 
no armies, no enmity, no wars ; nor had the cruel smith forged 
the sword with ruthless art. 

Now under the rule of Jove, slaughter and swords are in- 
cessant ; now sea and land offer a thousand ways of sudden 
death. Spare rpe, Father ; I have not a conscience frightened 
by any perjuries^ or impious words uttered against the holy 
gods. But if I have now completed, my destined years, let a 
stone stand over my bones, with this inscription : — Here lies 
TibuUus, consumed by pitiless _death, while following Messala 
by land and sea. 

But because I am always obsequious to tender Love, Venus 
herself will conduct me to the Elysian fields. There dance 
and song are perpetual, and birds flitting in all directions 
warble sweetly with their small throats. The uncultivated 
vegetation bears cinnamon, and the benignant ground blooms 
all over with fragrant roses. Groups of youth sport with 

' Linen.l The priests of Egypt -were compelled to pay the most scru- 
pulous regard to personal cleanliness. To insure this, they shaved their 
heads, and wore no garments but such as were made of linen, and per- 
haps cotton. It appears from this passage that the worshippers of Isis, 
when they appeared at his shrine, wore habits of this description, which 
would be very remarkable at Rome, where the clothing of all ranks was 
chiefly woollen. The fullest account of the worship of Isis is given by 
Apuleius in the eleventh book of his Metamorphoses. 


tender damsels, and love incessantly mingles them in pleasihg 
strife. There is the place of every one whom rapacious death 
interrupts in the midst of his love, and he .bears myrtle wreaths 
on his distinguished head. 

But the abode of guilt lies buried in deep night, and black 
floods roar around it. There rages Tfsiphone with fierce 
tangled snakes for hair, and the crowd of the wicked flies 
hither and thither before her. Black Cerberus hisses with 
his serpents ' at the entrance, and watches before the brazen 
gates. There the guilty limbs of Ixion, who dared to attempt 
Juno, are whirled round on the rapid wheel, and Tityos, ex- 
tended over nine acres of ground, feeds the ever-ravening 
birds with his dark entrailg. Tantalus is there, with a lake 
around him ; but the water baffles his hot thirst just as he is 
about to drink : and the children of Danaus, who committed 
sacrilege against Venus, carry the water of Lethe into pierced 
casks. There let him be, whosoever troubled my love, and 
wished for me the tedious anxieties of warfare. 

But, Delia, remain faithful, I implore, and let an old woman 
always sit by your side, a sedulous guardian of your sacred 
modesty. Let her tell you stories, and fill long spindles with 
the threads she draws from the distaff by lamp-light ; and let 
the girl near her, intent on her busy task, yield gradually to 
sleep and leave off her work. Then I will come suddenly ; 
no one shall announce me, but I shall seem to you as if I had 
dropped from the sky. Then run to me, Delia, just as you 
are, with bare feet and your long hair in disorder. This is my 
prayer ; may fair Aurora bring us that bright day with her ' 
rosy horses. 


So may you always have a shady canopy, Priapus, to de- 
fend your head from sun and snow ; but tell me by what 

1 Cerberus hisses, &c.] The three-headed dog Cerberus had a crest 
and mane of hissing serpents, and the tail of a dragon. 

= Elegy IV.] Unsuccessful in an amour, Tibullus consults Priapus, 
•who delivers so animated a lecture on the art of conducting such matters, 
that his pupil at once proclaims himself advanced to the ranks of a pro- 
fessor ; but ends by confessing that he has still much to leain. Bach 
thinks it probable the date of the poem is not earlier than b. c. 24. The 
translator has been compelled to be unfaithful to the original with regard 

I 2 


cunning art of yours do you captivate the fair ? Truly your 
beard is not glossy, your hair is not neat ; naked you endure 
the winter's frost, and naked you endure the parching season 
of the dog-star. 

So said I, and thus answered the rustic son of Bacchus 
armed with his curved sickle. " Be not disheartened, if haply 
a girl refuse you at first ; by degrees she will give her neck to 
the yoke. Time has taught lions to obey man ; with time soft 
water cuts its way through stone. A year ripens the grapes 
on the sunny hills ; a year brings round the changes of the 
constellations in sure order. Be not afraid to swear ; the 
oaths broken in the sight of Venus the winds scatter over 
land and sea. For this, great thanks to Jove : the great father 
himself has forbidden to have any force, whatever oaths 
thoughtless love may have eagerly sworn ; and Diana allows 
you to pledge yourself with impunity by her arrows, and 
Minerva by her hair. But if you are not prompt you will 
miss all. Time passes away ! The day does not stand still, 
or return. How soon the earth loses its brilliant hues ! How 
soon the tall poplar its comely tresses ! How helpless lies, 
when the fates of old age are come upon him, the courser that 
was first to bound forth from the Etean starting-place. I have 
seen one who was but now a youth, lamenting, when graver 
years pressed upon him, the days that had passed foolishly 
away. Cruel gods ! the serpent casts his skin and comes forth 
anew every year : but the Fates have granted no delay to 
beiauty. Eternal youth belongs to Phoebus and Bacchus alone, 
for unshorn locks adorn both gods. 

" Whatever your fair one has a mind to do, let her have 
lier own way. Love achieves many victories by compliance. 
Do not refuse to accompany her, though a long journey 
is intended, and the fiery dog-star parches the fields ; though 
the watery bow, marking the sky with its parti -coloured 
dyes, portend the coming rain. Or if she desires to roam 
over the azure waves, ply the oar yourself and speed the light 
bark over the waters. Grudge not to undergo hard labour, 
and to chafe your hands unused to such work. And if she 
wishes to enclose deep valleys with the hunter's toils, let not 

to gender. This change haa occasioned some awkwardness in a few 
places ; but without it the ijoem, which is one of the most elegant of the 
author's works, could not have been presented in English. 


your shoulders refuse to carry the nets, if so you may please 
her. If she will practise arms, you will try to fence with a 
light hand, and often expose your unguarded side that she may- 
make a hit. Then she wiU be indulgent ; then you will be 
allowed to snatch sweet kisses ; she will struggle, but give 
them after all. First she will give what you steal ; afterwards 
she will offer them for you to take, and at last she will freely 
clasp your neck. 

" Alas, how vilely these times treat unfortunate art. The 
tender girl is now grown used to desire presents. Now may 
the stone press wretchedly on thy bones, whoever thou art, 
that first taught Venus to sell her favours. love the Muses, 
young beauties, and love learned poets ; let not golden gifts out- 
do the Muses. Through song is the hair of Nisus ' purple ; if 
song were not, ivory would not have shone from the shoulder 
of Pelops. Whom the Muses extol, shall live whilst the earth 
has trees, the sky has stars, the river rolls waters. But whoso 
hears not the Muses, whoso [buys or] sells love, be it theirs 
to follow the chariot of Idan Ops, let them fill three hundred 
cities with their wanderings, and mutilate their vile bodies in 
Phrygian fashion. Venus desires that there be room for the 
winning ways of courtship; she favours plaintive supplica- 
tions and piteous tears." 

These precepts the god delivered to me that I might sing 
them to Titia, but Titia's spouse bids her not mind them. 
" O beware of trusting the amorous crowd of youths," he says, 
" for they never want a plausible pretext for love. This one 
finds favour because he reins the steed with address ; that 
one, because he cleaves the calm waters with snowy breast ; 
another captivates, because he is strong and daring; and a 
fourth, because maiden modesty sits upon his soft cheeks." 

Let her obey her monitor ; but as for you, whom the wily 
boy maltreats, extol me as your guide and master. To each 
belongs her own glory ; to me let all lovers who are scorned 
come for consultation : my door is open to them aU. The 
time will come when a studious crowd of youths wiU attend 
the aged TibuUus as he expounds the doctrines of Venus. 

Alas, alas, with what slow tortures Titia racks me< Vain 

' The hair of Nisus.] Nisus, king of Megara, had among his white 
locks a single purple one, on the preservation of -which his life depended. 
Ovid, Met. viii. 8. 


are all my arts, vain all my wiles. Spare me, Titia, I implore, 
let me not become the laughing-stock of my acolytes, when 
they see how idle is the science I profess. 


I WAS cross, and said that J could bear a rupture well, but 
now my brave boasting is far aAay ; for I am whirled like the 
top'^ which the nimble boy witn practised skill lashes along 
the smooth ground. Burn, torture me for my insolence ; cure 
me of all desire to -talk big in future ; put down my bluster- 
ing. Yet spare me, I implore you, by our confederate bed- 
thefts, by Venus, and by your own comely head. 

I am he who is declared to have snatched you from the 
grasp of death by my vows when you lay overcome by griev- 
ous illness. I tnyself performed fumigations roun^ you with 
pure sulphur, whilst the old woman was busied v^ith magic 
incantations. I took care that you should not be troubled 
with painful dreams, which I caused to be charmed away by 
a thrice-consecrated' cake. ^ Veiled in linen, with robes un- 
bound, I paid nine vows to Trivia in the silent night. I did 
all; another now enjoys your love, and is happy in the fruits 
of my prayers ; whilst, fool that I was, I pictured to myself 
the happy life that should- be mine, if you were saved; but the 
gods opposed my hopes. 

I win cultivate liiy fields ; my Delia will be the keeper of 
my garners, whilst the harvest is threshed under the hot sun ; 
or she will keep my "grapes in full baskets, and my rich must 
pressed with nimble feet. She will grow used to number 


' Elegy V. ] TibuUus recants the boast he had made, that he coald easily 
reconcile himself to the loss of Delia, and pleads to her the care he had 
bestowed when she was ill, and the hopes he had built on her recovery. 
Bach concludes from internal evidence that the Elegy was written not 
earlier than b. c. 29. 

' Like the top.] No poet perhaps ever used fewer similes than TibuUus. 
The principal object always employed him too much to think of resem- 
blances. Virgil has applied the simile of the top to Amata in the seventh 
book of the .Slneid; as Valerius Flaccus does to Medea in the eighth 
book of his Argonautus. Things of no dignity in themselves become im- 
portant in the hands of a real poet. — Grainger. 

' Thrice-consecrated cofe.] This cake, which was made three times a 
year by the Vestal virgins, was a composition of flour and two kinds of 

TIBULLirS. 119 

my flock ; the prattling boy born in my house will grow used 
to play on the lap of my mistress ; she will know how to offer 
to the gO|d of the husbandman grapes for the vines, ears of 
corn for the crops, meat-offerings for the flock. Let her 
rule all my people ; let her have charge of everything, and 
let it be a pleasure to me to be as nothing in my house 
and all that belongs to it. Hither will come my Messala ; 
Delia will set before him sweet apples from choice trees ; and 
reverencing so great a man, she will sedulously entertain him, 
obey his wishes, and herself serve the banquet and wait upon 
him. These things I pictured to myself, but now Eurus and 
Notus have swept the fond visions to the odorous shores of 

Have' I outraged the divinity of great Venus by any words 
of mine, and do I now suffer the penalty due to my impious 
tongue ? Am I charged with having assailed the abodes of 
the gods, and torn the garlands from. their sacred shrines? 
Let me not hesitate, if I have incurred this guilt, to prostrate 
myself in their temples and kiss their sanctified thresholds ; 
I will not refuse to crawl suppliantly on my knees, and beat 
my wretched head against the holy doors.' But you who ex- 
ultingly deride my woe, beware ; your own turn will come by 
and by; one god will not always be wroth alone. I have 
seen an old man, because he-had mocked the unfortunate loves 
of his juniors, him|e]f afterwards for cecf to bend his neck to 
the bonds of Venus ; and to' shape fils quavering voice to the 
utterance of soft things, and to try to arrange his white hairs 
with his hands. Nor was hp ashamed to stand before the 
dear girl's doors, and to stop her servant in the middle of the 
forum. Boys and youths encompassed him in dense crowds, 
and each one spat upon his own soft bosom.^ 

But spare me, Venus : my mind has always been devoted 
to thy service ; why dost thou rancorously consume thy own 
harvests ? 

> Beat my head.'] According to Broekhusius, the beating of the head 
against the sacred threshold was an expiatory ceremony brought _ from 
Egypt along with the goddess Isis. This is the only passage of antiquity 
where this extraordinary rite is mentioned ; whence that commentator 
concludes that it neither prevailed long, nor was generally received at 

Rome. . 1. V J 

» Spat upon his own soft bosom.'] As a preservative agamst the bad 
omen of such preposterous love. 



Often have I tried to dispel mj cares with wine ; but 
grief turned all my wine to tears. I have often clasped an- 
other fair one in my arms ; but just as I was at the point of 
enjoyment, Venus reminded me of my mistress and deserted 
me. Then the woman quitted me, saying I was bewitched,^ 
and, oh shame ! she goes about telling that she knows abomin- 
able things about me. 

No witch does this by magic words ; my girl it is that be- 
witches me with her face, her gentle arnos, and her yellow 
hair ; lovely as Thetis,^ the daughter of Nereus, when she was 
wafted of yore by a bridled fish to ^^Imonian Peleus. This 
is what wrought my hurt. That she has a rich lover, is the 
work of a cunning bawd wlio interfe^res for my destruction. 
May she eat bloody food, and drink with gory mouth cups aU 
bitter with gall. May souls complaining of their fate always 
hover round her, and the screech-owl hoot wildly on her roof. 
Goaded to madness by hunger, may she pluck grass from the 
sepulchres, and the bones left by ravening wolves. May she 
run naked and howling through the towns, and snarling packs 
of dogs hunt her from the cross-ways. It will come to pass ; 
a god forebodes it ; there is a divinity in a lover, and Venus 
unjustly forsaken takes dire vengeance. 

But you, my girl, reject forthwith the counsels of this 
greedy witch. Is all love overcome by gifts ? The- poor lover 

• Elegy F7.] TibuUus relates the failure of sundry remedies he has 
tried for his unfortunate passion ; curses the go-hetween -who has intro- 
duced a wealthier lover to Delia ; and demonstrates the error committed 
ty ladies who prefer a rich lover to a poor one — a general doctrine which 
he applies to his own advantage. Some editors have very injudiciously 
tacked this Elegy to the preceding one, with which it coincides in date. 

' Bewitched.l Devotum. Devovere, says Broekhusius, properly signi- 
fies, frigore ferire earn partem qua viri sumus, ut quantumvis cupiamus, 
tamen minime possumus. The French call it nouer I'mguilhtte ; and the 
doctors of the canon law say that such persons are ff igidi and malifloiati. 

^ Lovely as Thetis.'] The heathen poets, in comparing a person to any 
of their deities, had a sure method of giving the reader a picture of that 
person, as the statues of their gods were known to every one and their 
features ascertained ; and this, says the ingenious author of the Poly- 
metis, is one reason why similes of this kind are so frequent in ancient 


will be ever at your command ; the poor lover will be the 
first to fly to you, and will cling inseparably to your side. 
The poor lover will be your faithful escort through the 
crowd, will fend off the pressure with his hands, and make 
way for you. The poor lover will furtively conduct you to 
the secret carousals of his friends, and will himself untie your 
shoes and take them off your snow-white feet. Alas, I sing 
in vain ; the door will not open for words alone, but must be 
knocked at by a well-filled hand. 

But you who now have the advantage, beware; light- 
wheeled fortune spins rapidly round. 


Love, thou offerest me always a smiling countenance in 
order to allure me ; but afterwards I find thee, to my sorrow, 
gloomy and severe. What quarrel hast thou with me, cruel 
boy ? Is it a great glory for a god to have laid snares for a 
man ? Toils are now spread for me ;_ now crafty Delia fur- 
tively cherishes I know not whom ^ in the silent night. She 
indeed denies this over and over again ; but it is hard to be- 
lieve her, for she makes just as pertinacious denials about me 
to her husband. Unfortunate that I am, I taught her myself 
how to elude her guardians ; alas, alas ! I am now the victim 
of my own art. She has now learned how to invent pre- 
tences for lying alone, and how to make the doors turn on 
noiseless hinges. And then I gave her juices and herbs, for 

' Elfigy VII."] This must hare been written before the preceding Elegy, 
(and probably in a. n. c. 724,) for here he only suspects what there he 
speaks of as a fact already beyond all doubt. The unfortunate lover 
complains that he is caught in his own trap, for he has taught Delia how 
to deceive. Then he appeals to her husband, makes a clean breast of it, 
and invites the poor man to make common cause with him. This is 
rather a bold step, it must be owned ; it is asking too much, as Ovid says, 
Trist. ii. 457 : 

Denique ab incauto nimium petit ille marito 
Se quoque uti servet, peccet ut ilia minus. 
Grainger and Dunlop are shocked at the impropriety of this proceeding, 
but without much reason. They forget the class to which Delia belonged, 
and the probability that her intimacy with Tibullus was no news to her 
husband. The address to that person is an exquisite piece of persiflage, 
and nothing more. 

" I know not whom.'] Nescio quem: this is not to be understood liter- 
ally, but as an expression of contempt. 

122 TIBULLtrS. 

removing the livid marks wMch mutual Venus makes by the 
impress of the teeth. 

But you, incautious husband of the tricksome girl, keep 
me too, that she may be hindered from erring at all. Take 
care that she is not profuse in her compliments to young 
men, nor let her recline with her robe loose so as to ex- 
pose her bosom ; let her not betray you with secret looks and 
nods, nor dip her finger in liquid, and draw marks on the table. 
If she goes out very often, be on your guard ; or if she says 
she intends to visit the rites of the Bona Dea to which males 
are not admitted. But if you will intrust her to me, I wiU 
follow her alone to the altar ; and then far it be from me to 
doubt the vigilance of my own eyes. I remember that I often 
touched her hand under pretence of examining her jewels or 
her ;seal. Often I plied you with strong wine tiU you fell 
asleep, while I secured my victory by drinking sober draughts 
mingled with water. I did not wrong you intentionally ; for- 
give me, as I confess my fault ; Love commanded it should be 
so, and who can fight against the gods ? I am the very man, 
nor will I now be ashamed to teH the truth, at whom your dog 
used to bark all night long. It is not for nothing that some 
one just now is always stopping before your threshold; that he 
looks about, retreats, pretends to pass the house, and presently 
comes back alone, and hawks and hems close by the door. Some 
furtive amour is preparing for you, I know not what ; bestir 
yourself, I beg, while you may ; as yet your boat swims in 
smooth water. What use is it to have a charming wife, if you 
cannot keep what you have got ? It is in vain you have locks 
to your doors. While she embraces you, she sighs for other 
absent loves, and suddenly feigns a head-ache. But intrust 
her to my keeping ; I do not refuse to endure stripes, I do 
not object to have my feet put in fetters, if I let her escape. 
Then keep oflf, all you who dress your hair with art, whose 
tunics hang loose upon your breasts. Any man that comes 
this way, to hinder all chance of his doing mischief, let him 
keep off, and not stop until he is far away in another street. 

Thus the god himself commands it to be done ; thus the 
great priestess has conveyed to me the injunctions of the 
divine oracle. Once she is agitated and distraught by the 
impulse of Bellona, she fears neither scorching flame, nor 
lashes ; she lacerates her own arms with an axe, and unmur- 

tibullus. 123 

muringly sprinkles the goddess with her blood ; with a spike 
thrugt through her side, and her bosom torn, she stands, and 
chants the events which the great goddess foretells. " For- 
bear from assailing a girl whom Love guards, lest you be 
afterwards taught a terrible lesson. Touch her, and your 
wealth shall pass away, like the blood from my wounds, like 
these ashes scattered by the winds." And on you, my Delia, 
she denounced I know not what penalties : but if you receive 
me, I will pray her to be light with you. I do not spare you 
for your own sake ; but your mother moves me, and the ex- 
cellent old woman subdues my resentment. She brings you 
to me in the dark, and mutely and in great fear joins our 
hands together. She waits for me by night, fixed to the door, 
and recognises the sound of my footstep a long way off. Long 
may you live for me, sweet old woman : fain would I com- 
pound my own years with yours, were it possible. I will 
always love you, and your daughter for your sake ; whatever 
she does, she is, after all, your blood. Teach her only to be 
chaste, though no' fillet binds her hair, no long robe impedes 
her feet.' And on me, too, let hard laws be impose^, nor let 
it be possible for me to praise any beauty, unless she is before 
my eyes. And if I am adjudged to have offended in any 
way, and am pulled by the hair undeservedly, and am dragged 
along the sloping street ;^ let me not think of striking of you ; 
but if such madness seizes me, I should wish myself without 
hands. And be not chaste through fear alone, but let mutual 
love keep you faithful in mind to me when I am absent. The 
girl who was faithful to no lover, after age has overcome her, 
sinks into want, and draws out the twisted threads with her 

• Though no fiUet, &c.] The vitta and the stola were worn onlj' by 
matrons and maidens of free descent (ingenuie). Delia was therefore 
libertinee conditionis, a foreigner, or the daughter or grand-daughter of 
one who had been a slave. The condition of such women iii Rome was 
very like that of the free quadroon girls of New Orleans, who are all 
destined to become the mistresses of white men, never their wives. This 
is coulirmed by Ovid, Ep. ex Pont. iii. 3 ; 

Scio tamen, ut liquido juratus dicere possis 

Non me legitimes solicitasse toros. 
Scripsimus hfec istis, quarum nee vitta pudicos 
Contingit crines, nee stola longa pedes. 
' The sloping street. "l Pronas vias: most of the streets in Rome ran 
up and down hill. 


tremulous hand, and interweaves the woof with the firm warp, 
and picks off the rough fibres drawn from the snowy fleece. 
The young men gather round her rejoicing to see her so em- 
..ployed, and remark that she deserves to bear all this in her 
Wd age. Venus looks down disdainfully on her tears from 
ttte summit of Olympus, and shows by such an example how 
sev'ere~she is to the faithless. 

May these curses befall others; may we, Delia, be examples 
of love when we are both white-haired. 


The FateStWho weaye the threads which no god can break, 
sang of this day ; they foretold that He would be, who should 
overthrow the tribes of Aquitania,^ and whom vanquished Atur 
should tremble to see approaching in martial might. The 
Roman youth has seen new trimnphs, and" kings with their 
arms bound. And thou, Messala, crowned.with laurel, wast 
borne in an ivory chariot drawn by white horses. Thy hon- 
ours were not won without me ; Tarbella^ of the Pyrenees is 
witness, and the shores of the Santonic Sea ;* witness the Arar 
and the rapid Ehone, and the great Garonne, the yellow-haired 
Carnuto, and the Loire's' blue water. And thee, Cydnus, I 
will sing, which flowest softly with noiseless water, and vast 

' Elegy VIII.'} On his return from the East, E. c. 27, Messala enjoyed 
the honour of a magnificent triumph for his victories over the Aquitani. 
His birthday, which occurred soon after in the same year, is celebrated 
in this Elegy. The poet enumerates Messala's exploits in Gaul, Cilioia, 
Syria, Egypt, dwelling especially on the wonders and fertility of the latter, 
and singing the praises of Osiris the inventor of agriculture. He then 
calls upon the genius of Messala to come and receive the honours which 
were peculiarly his own upon such an occasion, and concludes with 
prayers for his patron and his descendants. 

' Aquitania.] The southern part of Gaul, extending from the Garumna, 
the modern Garonne, to the Pyrenees. The river Atax is now the Ande. 

^ Tarbella.] The Tarbelli, one of the tribes of Aquitaine, have left their 
name to the city of Tarbes. They occupied the valley of the Atur 

* Santonic Sea, &c.] The Santones were another. tribe of Aquitania, 
who dwelt north of the Garumna (Garonne) in the province lately called 
Saintonge. The Arar is the modern Saone ; tlie " Rhodanus celer " is 
" the arrowy Rhone :" the Liger is the Loire ; the principal town of the 
Carnuti was Autricum (Chartres). 


frozen Taurus lifting its head among the clouds, the mountain 
.#the bearded Cilicians. \ 

Why need I tell how the sacred white dbve^ flutters un- 
touched about the numerous cities of Syrian Palestine ? Or- 
how Tyre, which first learned how to give the bark to the 
gale, looks out over the vast sea from its towers. And hoV 
the fertile Nile abounds in summer floods when the dog-star 
splits the parched ground ? Father N'ile, wherefore or in 
what lands can I say that thou hast hidden thy jjead ? Through 
thee thy land has no need of rain, nor does the parched grass 
supplicate .pluvious Jove. The barbarian youth, taught to 
bewail the bull of Memphis, sings thee, and admires its own 
Osiris.^ Osiris with skilful hand first fashioned the plough, 
and fretted the soft soil with iron. He first committed seed 
to the inexperienced earth, and gathered fruit fronj unknown 
trees. He taught the practice of attaching the tender vine 
to the stake, and lopping the green foliage with the pruning- 
hook. To him first the ripe grape, pressed by the feet of 
clowns,' yielded sweet juice. That liquor taught men to mo- 
dulate their voices in song, and move their unpractised limbs to 
certain measures. Bacchus gave the over -laboured husband- 
men what cheers their heavy hearts ; and Bacchus brings rest 
to oppressed mortals, though their legs sound to the knock- 
ings of their hard fetters. No sad cares or wailings are 

• Sacred dove.] The dove was not used as food by the Syrians, being 
sacred to their goddess Astarte, whom the Greeks identified with Aphro- 
dite (Venus). 

^ Osiris.'] The chief god of the Egyptians. The inventor of agricul- 
ture and vine husbandry. The Greeks and Latins confounded him with 
Bacchus ; and this is probably the reason why the latter was represented 
with horns ; for the bull was an incarnation of Osiris : Memphitem ... 
bovem. The sacred animal was called Apis, and was kept at Memphis 
in Lower Egypt in a magnificent temple and park. He was said to live 
for twenty-five years, at the end of which period he was supposed to 
drown himself by leaping into the Nile. He was then buried with great 
pomp, and the priests wandered about for some days shrieking, beating 
their breasts {plangere bovem), and exhibiting every outward sign of grief 
until a new Apis was found, when the discovery was celebrated by a joy- 
ful festival. 

' By the feet of clowns^ Incultis—pedibus does not mean " with slovenly, 
dirty feet," as most commentators suppose : a disgusting mistake ! Dissen 
alone has pointed out that the phrase is an example of a very common 
poetical figure, and equivalent to incultorum pedibus, "by the feet of men 
as yet rude and uncivilized." 


thine, Osiris, but dance, and song, and light, ready love ; vari- 
ous flowers, and a forehead wreathed with ivy ; yellow robes 
flowing down to thy soft feet : and Tyrian garments, and the 

sweet flute, and the light ark with its hidden mysteries. 

— Come' hither and celebrate a hundred games, and delight 
the Genius ' with dances, and steep the brain in wine. Let 
perfumed ointments drop from his smooth hair, and let him 
wear soft garlands on his head and neck. Come thus to-day, 
that I may honour thee with incense, and offer thee cates 
sweetened with Arcadian honey. 

But may a progeny spring from thee, Messala, which shall 
add to their father's deeds, and stand in honour round the old 
man. Nor silent be the road-monuments^ which the Tusculan 

.' Genius.'] The Genius was a spiritual being who presided over the 
birth of man, watched over him during life, and perished at his death. 
Each individual had a separate Genius who regulated his lot, and was re- 
presented as black or w-hite according to his fortunes. The Genius of 
women was called a Juno. It was natural that the birthday should be 
particularly set apart for the worship of the Genius, and that the marriage 
bed should be under his special protection, and hence called genialis torus. 
Genialis is used generally as an epithet for anything which conduces to 
festivity, mirth, or pleasure. To practise abstinence is " to defraud one's 
Genius ;" on the other hand, " to indulge one's Genius " is to eat, drink, 
and be merry. . 

' The monuments, &c.] The passage refers to some repairs executed 
upon the Via Latina by Messala at the command of Augustus. This road 
began at the Porta Capena, ran through the Albana Vallis, and joined the 
Via Appia at Beneventum. Messala's road must have been esteemed a 
strong and durable work, since Martial, to represent that perpetuity of 
fame, to which he thought himself entitled as a poet, alludes to it in these 
words, (B. viii. E. 3,) Et cum rupta situ Messalae saxa jacebunt. " The 
public ways ranked among the most important works of Roman magnifi- 
cence. Amazing labour, with vast expense, were devoted and combined 
in extending them from the capital to the utmost limits of Uie known 
world ; and in many instances they seem to have been calculated by their 
construction to outlast the empire, of which they have not inaptly been 
termed the arteries. Nor was their construction alone the object of soli- 
citude, the care of looking to their repair was not tliought unworthy the 
greatest men of the republic. None but those of the highest rank were 
eligible to the office of superintending that service ; and we find Augustus 
himself taking the charge of a district. The Appian Way, the most an- 
cient as well as the most noble, being distinguished by the epithet regina 
viarum, as originally made by Appius Claudius the censor, extended from 
Rome to Capua. It was composed of three strata ; the lower of rough 
stones or flint cemented together, formed a foundation or statumen ; the 
middle stratum or rudera was of gravel ; the upper of well-jointed stones 
of irregular forms. It remains in many places perfect to the present 
day." — Sir William Gell's "Pompeii." 


land holds, and fair Alba in its ancient abode. For by thy 
command here the hard pebbles are compacted together, there 
the blocks of stone are aptly fitted to each other. The hus- 
bandman sings thy praise when he comes home late from the 
great city, and finds his feet uninjured. 

And thou, Messala's natal day, return and be celebrated 
through many years, ever fairer and fairer. 


It cannot be concealed from me what import there is in a 
lover's language of signs, and his softly-whispered words. 
I have not the gift of sortilege, or of reading the secrets of 
the gods in entrails ; nor does the song of birds forewarn me 
of things to come ; but Venus, binding my arms behind me 
with a magic knot, hath thoroughly instructed me, not without 
many stripes. 

Cease to dissemble. The god of love burns more merci- 
lessly those whom he sees to have succumbed to him unwill- 
ingly. You, Marathon, have done this. What does it avail 
you now to have bestowed such pains on your soft locks, and 
to have so often changed their arrangement ? to have adorned 
your cheeks with shining dye ? to have had your nails trim- 
med by the artist's skilful hand ? In vain are your garments 
frequently changed, and your feet compressed in tight shoes. 
She charms though she comes with a face which she has taken 
no pains to beautify, and though she has not spent much time 
and art in dressing her shining head. Has an old woman be- 
witched you with incantations and potent herbs in the silent 
time of night ? Incantations steal away the crops from the 
fields ; incantations stop the course of the enraged serpent ; 
incantations attempt to drag down the moon from her chariot, 
and would do it, were it not for the sound of the clashing 
brasses. But why do I accuse incantations of having worked 
you woe ? Why do I talk of herbs ? Beauty has no need of 

' Elegy /X]' Tibullus pleads the cause of his favourite Marathus, 
who was ill-used by the coquette, Pholoe, and lectures the former on his 
foppishness, and the latter on her arrogance and avarice. The date of the 
poem is not determined, but it is later than that of El. iv. Certain allu- 
sions to a theme more extensively treated in the latter, have again ren^ 
dered necessary some infidelity in the translation. 


magic auxiliaries. The charm that is really noxious, is to 
have touched the fair body, to have given long kisses, to have 
been mutually entwined. 

Remember this, Pholoe, and be not unkind to the youth ; 
Venus punishes such misdeeds. Ask not for presents ; let 
the .white-headed lover give presents, that you may warm his 
frigid frame in your bosom. More precious than gold is a 
youth with smooth shining face, and no irough beard to scrape 
the bosom he embraces. Put your white arms beneath his 
shoulder, and despise the treasures of kings. Venus will find 
you opportunities to yield furtively to the ardent boy, when 
he presses your tender bosom, and to give him moist kisses 
with tilting tongue as he pants for breath, and to mark his 
neck with your teeth. 

No joy can precious stones and jewels yield to her who 
sleeps alone in the cold, and who is an object of desire to no 
man. Alas, too late is love, too late is youth recalled, when 
age has shed its whiteness on the head. Then is the 
toilette a serious business ; then are the locks tinctured and 
changed with the green husk of the walnut, to disguise the 
effect of years ; then what pains are taken to root out white 
hairs, and to make the face cast its skin .and be new again. 

But you whose life is in its blooming prime, use it while 
you may ; it is gliding away with no slow foot. And torture 
not Marathus : what glory is there in smiting a boy ? Be 
obdurate to the old ; but spare the tender youth, I beseech 
you. It is not bodily ailment, but excessive love, that tinges 
his complexion with yellow. Poor lad ! How often, when 
you are far away, he pours out piteous complaints and sheds 
no end of tears ! 

" Why does she scorn me ?" he says. " The vigilance of 
those who watch her might be defeated. The god of love 
himself has given lovers the power of eluding restraint, I 
know the arts of furtive Venus, how to breathe softly, and 
how to snatch kisses without letting them be heard. I can 
creep in noiselessly even in the dead of night, and open the 
doors without the least sound. But what avail these arts, if 
she spurns her wretched lover, and flies, cruel girl, from the 
very bed in which I would embrace her ? Even when she 
promises, with sudden perfidy she breaks her word, and I 
must watch the livelong night in countless torments. While 


I delude myself with the thought that she will come, I think 
ev€ry movement I hear is the sound of her steps. Ah, perish 
aU vain arts and observances of wooing ! I will clothe my 
squalid body in shaggy garments. If my girl's door is shut, 
if I have few opportunities of seeing her, alas, what good does 
it do an unfortunate wretch like me to wear a flowing toga?" 
Cease your tears, poor youth ; her hard heart is unmoved, 
and your wearied eyes are swollen with weeping. The gods 
hate disdain, I warn you, Pholoe, and those who are guilty of 
it offer incense in vain at their holy altars. This Marathus 
used formerly to mock unhappy lovers, not aware that an 
avenging god was behind him. He is said even to have often 
laughed at the tears of an anguished lover, and purposely to 
have thrown obstacles in his way. Now he hates all arrogant 
disdain ; now he loathes every door that is shut fast at night. 
Your punishment too wiU come unless you cease to be haughty. 
With what yearning you will then desire to recall this day ! 


Why, if you were to wrong my wretched love, why did 
you give me pledges in the name of the gods, which were to 
be secretly broken ? Ah ! cruel one, though perjuries be at 
first concealed, yet chastisement comes at last with noiseless 
Steps. Spare her, gods ; it is just that the lovely should be 
free once to break with impunity oaths sworn by your sacred 
names. In hope of gain the husbandman yokes his bulls to 
the plough, and plies the hard work of agriculture. In hope 
of gain unstable ships are led by sure stars over seas that obey 
the winds. My girl has been seduced by gifts : but may an 
avenging god turn them into ashes and water. I shall soon 
see her punished ; dust shall disfigure her beauty ; her hair 
shall be roughened by the winds ; her face and her locks shall 
be sun-bui-nt, and her delicate feet shall be way-worn. 

How often have I admonished you thus ! " Sully not your 
loveliness for gold, countless ills often lurk beneath it. If any 
one, beguiled by wealth, does violence to Love, Venus visits 
her with rigorous severity. Rather give my head to the 

' Elegy X] Happily tliis is the last occasion on which the translator 
will have had to ask the reader's indulgence for a necessary, but not always 
successful, remodelling of the original. 


flames, smite my body with steel, and gore my back with 
lashes. Nor hope when you are about to sin that you can 
conceal it : there is a god who will not let perfidy be hidden. 
That god makes the taciturn confederate speak out freely 
when he has drunk largely. That god compels dreamers to 
articulate, and unwillingly to declare things they would hide." 
Thus did I say ; and now I blush to think that I spoke in 
tears, and prostrated myself before your fair feet. Then you 
swore to me that you would not barter your faith for heaps 
of gold or gems ; no, not if all Campania, not if the Falemian 
soil so dear to Bacchus, were offered to you. With such words 
as these you might have brought me to deny that the stars 
shine in heaven, or that there was purity in the water of the 
stream. You wept too ; and I, unpractised in deceit, and 
credulous, wiped your moist cheeks assiduously. How would 
you treat me, were you not yourself in love ? ' I pray that 
the object of your passion may follow the example you give 
of fickleness. « * » * ^ Wretch that I was, I believed that 
I was loved ; believed it foolishly, for I might have been more 
wary against your snares. Smitten with your charms, I sang 
your praises ; but now I am ashamed of myself and my Muses. 
May Vulcan consume those songs with swift flame ; may they 
be washed out by the waters of the stream. Out Upon you, 
whose only care is how to sell your beauty, and to fill your 
hand with a large payment. 

But you, who have dared to corrupt my girl with presents, 
may your wife make you with impunity the dupe of her in- 
cessant wiles ; and when she shall have tired out her favoured 
youth in furtive concourse, may she keep you aloof in bed. 
May strangers always press your bed, and may your house 
always lie open and at the command of wooers. Let not 
even your lascivious sister be said to have drained more cups, 
or used up more men, than your wife ; and that sister, they 

' Were you not yourself in love.} And tlierefore partly softened by the 
thought that you are liable to the same unkindness as that which I com- 
plain of. 

^ quoties, verbis ne quisquam conscius esset 

Ipse comes multa lu'mina nocte tuli ! 

Ssepe insperanti venit tibi munere nostro, 

Et iiUiit clausas post adoperta fores. 

As these lines are incapable of being modified in the same way as the 

rest, we have not translated them. 


say, often prolongs her Bacchic revels until the risen orb of 
Lucifer portends the day ; nor is any one abler than she to 
consume the night, and to fill it with variety of occupation. 
But your wife has learned these accomplishments; and you, 
dolt, do not perceive this when she practises with you the 
lesson she has learned from another.' Do you imagine it is 
for you she arranges her hair, and parts it with a close- 
toothed comb ? Is it that face of yours that induces her to 
wear golden bracelets, and to fold her bosom in a purple robe ? 
It is not in your eyes she wishes to seem beautiful, but in 
those of a certain youth, for whom she would let your house 
and fortune go to ruin. Nor is it with evil intent she does 
this ; but like a girl of cultured taste she shuns your gouty 
deformed body, and your senile embraces. 

And this man my girl has taken to her bed : after this I 
can believe her capable of fondling a wild beast. Have you 
dared to sell to others the endearments that were mine ? to 
give my kisses, infatuated girl, to others ? But your turn 
will come to weep when another shall claim me as her con- 
quest, and shall imperiously rule the bosom that was yours. 
Then will I rejoice in your punishment, and a golden shield 
suspended in the temple of my kind protectress, Venus, shaU 
make known my case in these words : " Freed from the toils 
of a perfidious mistress, TibuUus dedicates this to thee, god- 
dess, and prays thee to regard him with favour." 


Who was it that first produced horrid swords ? How 
ravage, how utterly iron-hearted he was ! From that day 
began battles and carnage, and a shorter way was opened to 
dire death." But the unhappy inventor apprehended nothing 
like this ; we turn to our own destruction the weapons he gave 
us against wild beasts. This is the fault of gold ; there were 

' When she practises, &c.] QuuTn tibi non solita corpus ab arte movef. 

^ Elegy XI.] The poet, being about to quit Rome on military serrice, 
expresses his abhorrence of war, and of avarice, the cause of war ; and 
praises the blissful security of those simple ages when strife was yet un- 
known. He prays to his Lares ta preserve him that he may end his days 
in the quiet of his rural home ; and concludes with an enumeration of 
the joys of peace. This Elegy appears to have been written on the eve of 
Messala's expedition to Aquitaine, a. u. 724. 

K 2 


no wars waen the beeclien platter held the feast; there were 
no citadels or ramparts, and the shepherd slept sdcure^amidst 
his particoloured flock.' Would I had lived then, and^ad not 
known the horrors of arms, nor heard with quivering heart the 
blast of the trumpet. Now I am forced away to war, and now 
perhaps some enemy carries the ■vyeapon that is to be buried 
in my body. Preserve me, paternal Lares ; you who nurtured 
me when I ran about in childhood before your feet. Be it no 
shame that you are fashioned out of an old trunk, for even so 
you inhabited the abode of my old grandfather. The men of 
those days kept better faith, when a wooden idol stood in a 
small shrine, and received poor offerings. The deity was pro- 
pitiated, if one gave it a libation from the new vintage, or set 
a crown of corn-ears on its sacred head. Whoever had had 
■h^s wishes fulfilled, carried offerings to the god with his own 
hand, followed by a little girl bearing fine honeycomb. 

Turn away keen-pointed shafts from us, O Lares ; your 
victim shall be a pig from the full rustic stye. I will follow 
it dressed in white, with a myrtle wreath onfmy head, and 
carrying baskets twined with-myrtle. So may I please yo5 : 
let any one else be mighty in arms, and prostrate hostile cap- 
tains by favour of Mars ; enough for me that the soldier nar- 
rate his deeds to me as I drink, and sketch his camp on the 
table with his finger dipped in wine. What madness to seek 
dark death in war ! It is always at hand, and approaches un- 
seen with silent step. There are no corn-crops below, no 
cultivated vineyards ; but fierce Cerberus and the Stygian 
ferry-boat. There a pale crowd, with fleshless chaps and 
burnt hair, wander by the gloomy marsh. 

How much more to be praised is the lot of him who, with 
his progeny round him, passes his old age in his little cabin. 
He follows his sheep, his son attends to the lambs ; and his 
wife prepares warm water to refresh him when he returns 
home weary. So may I live ; may my head grow white, and 
may I relate as an old man the deeds done in my early days. 

' Parti-colov/red flock-l Varias. This epithet, says Ramsay, points to 
the primitive simplicity of those ancient times. The sheep in the flock 
were varice — that is, spotted, no anxiety having been as yet displayed with 
regard to the fineness and purity of the fleece. Bach thinks that varias 
means, roaming at pleasure as they fed — an image of security more appo- 
site than any question of colour. Brukhusius, not satisfied.with any ex- 
planation oi varias, reads saturas, "full pastured." 


Meanwhile may peace bless our fields. Fair peace first 
brought the steers under the curved yoke of the plough. Peace 
reared the vines, and stored the juice of the grape, that the 
cask filled by the father might yield cheering draughts to the 
son. In peace the mattock and plough are in full play, but 
cobwebs gather in dark lumber-holes over the weapons of the 
stern soldier. The rustic, not very sober, carries home his 
wife and his children in his cart from the grove.' tBut fhen^ 
the wars of Venus grow hot ; a woman complains of locks 
cut oif her head, and of her doors broken open ; she weeps 
and shovjs the "bruises on her tender cheeks ; and then the 
victor himself weeps to think that his mad hands were so 
strong. Meanwhile wanton Love suggests spiteful words to 
sweU the quarrel, and seats himself at his ease between the 
angry pair. Ah, he must be stone or iron, who beats his own 
girl ; he brings down tlje swift vengel&nce of the gods from 
heaven. Be it enough to cut ofi' the fine hem of her robe ; to 
undo the arrangement of her tresses ; to make her shed tears ; 
thrice happy he whos'e anger has the power to make a gentle 
girl weep. But whoever shall be guilty of ill usage with his 
hands, let him carry shield and :pike, and keep far aloof from 
gentle VeniwJ ~v 

Come to tis, bounteous peace, holding ears of corn in thy 
hand, whilst thy lap overflows with fruit. 


ELEGY 1." 

FAVOtTK us, each and all who are present ; we perform the 
lustration of our crops and fields, as the rite has been handed 

' The ffrove.] The consecrated grove, where he had been paying 
homage to the gods, and feasting with his wife and children. 

" Elegy /.] Written apparently in the spring of b. c. 26. The subject 
is the ambarvalia celebrated in spring for the purification of the fields and 
all belonging to them. The name was derived from the ceremony of lead- 
ing the victims in procession round the limits of the farm or district on be- 
half of which they were to be ofiered. Ceres and Bacchus are invoked to 


down from times of yore. Come, Bacchus, and let the sweet 
grape hang from thy horns ; and Ceres, bind thy brows with 
ears of corn. Let the earth rest on this sacred day ; let the 
ploughman rest, and suspend the hard labour of tie furrow. 
Unfasten the yokes ; the oxen must now stand at the fijll man- 
gers with garlanded heads. Let all things be devoted to the god : 
let no woman dare to put her hand to the spindle. You too I 
command to stand aloof, approach not the altars, you who last 
night enjoyed the pleasures of Venus. Chaste things are 
pleasing to the gods ; come in clean garments, and cleanse 
your hands in spring water. 

See where the consecrated lamb advances to the glowing 
altar ; a Crowd follows it crowned with fair olive branches. 
Gods of our native land, we purify our fields, we purify our 
hinds ; repel, ye gods, all evils from our boundaries. Let not 
our crops cheat the labours of the harvest with deceitful 
blades,' nor the slow-footed lamb fear the swift wolves. Then 
the sleek rustic, cheered by the plenteousness of his fields, will 
heap large logs on the blazing hearth ; and a crowd of born- 
thralls,^ good signs of a thriving farmer, will sport, and erect 
bowers of twigs before the altar.^ 

My prayers for the future wiE be fulfilled. See you how 
the presaging entrails give happy tokens that the gods are 
placid. Now bring me smoky Falernian of an old consul- 
ship, and unbind the Chian cask. Let wine celebrate the^day ; 

bless the fann, and the omens appearing favourable, all present are en- 
couraged to spend the day in jollity. Then follows a hymn in honour of 
the rural deities, and of Love, their foster-brother. The phrase " favour 
us" is sacerdotal; faitour us with your tongues, is implied, that is to say, 
either with words proper to the occasion, or .with silence. See the be- 
ginning of the next Elegy. 

' Deceitful blades.] Falladbus herbis : with com that looks well in the 
blade but carries light ears, and yields less grain in proportion than straw. 

^ Born-thralls.] Tiirba vernarum. The vernis were slaves born in 
their owner's house or on his estate. « 

' Bowers of twigs.] Many of the best commentators understand those 
words to refer to the erection of little temporary bowers by the slaves, 
under the shelter of which they might drink and amuse themselves. 
Others suppose that the vernce in question are the slave children (the 
" picaninnies ") of the family, who are represented as building baby-houses, 
one of the amuseAents enumerated in the catalogue of Horace, Sat. II. 
iii. 2.17, 

iEdifioare casas, plostello adjungere mures, 
Ludere par impar, equitare in arundine longa. 


it is no shame to be tipsy on a holiday and to reel and stagger. 
But, Health to Messala ! say every one as he takes his cup, and 
in every phrase that is uttered let the name of the absent hero 
be heard. 

Messala, renowned for thy triumphs over the Aquitanian 
nation, victor who reflectest glory on thy rough-haired an- 
cestors, ' come hither, inspire me while I raise my song of 
thanks to the rural gods. ' I sing, the country and the gods of 
the country : under their instruction, mankind ceased to re- 
lieve their hunger with acorns. They first taught how to 
cover the little log-hut with green thatch. They too are said 
to have first taught buUs to serve ugder the yoke, and to have 
put wheels to the cart. Then vsdld food was dressed i then 
apples were grafted ; then the fertile garden drank irrigating 
waters ; then the golden grape yielded its pressed juices to 
the feet ; and sober water was mingled with the care-dispel- 
ling liquor of the vine. The country yields harvests, when 
the earth annually sheds its locks in the season of the hot star. 
In the vernal country the light- winged bee gathers the Spoil of 
flowers in its hive, and busily fills its combs with sweet honey. 
The husbandman, wearied with the continual labours of the 
plough, first sang rustic words in determinate measure ; and 
first modulated, after his repasts, on the dry oaten pipe, the 
. airs he prepare^d to sing befdre the adorned images of the gods. 
The husbandmarf, with cheeks reddened with ochre, first led' 
thy unfashioned chorus, O Bacchus; a he-goat, the leader of 
the flock, was given to him from the fuU fold — a notable re- 
ward.^ In the country the youth first wove crowns of flowers, 
and placed them on the heads of his ancient Lares. In the 
country too the bright-fleeced sheep bears on its back the 
wool that is to be the care of the tender damsels. Hence is 
derived the labour of the females in the household, the dis- 
taff" clothed with wool, and the spindle that revolves under 

' Rough -haired ancestors.] BarberS' were unknown in Rome until four 
hundred and fifty-four years after the foundation of the city, when they 
were imported from Sicily. In earlier times the Romans universally wore 
flowing hair and long heards ; Scipio Africanus is said to have first set 
the example of shaving. 

- A he-goat, &c.] Tragedy was at first nothing but an annual hymn, 
sung by peasants in honour of Bacchus ; and he who acquitted himself 
best upon this topic was rewarded with a goat. Hence the Greek name 

136 TiBULLtrs. 

the touch of the thumb ; and hence the task of the weaver, 
who sings as she busily plies the work of Minerva, and the 
web sounds to the stroke of the lay. 

Cupid himself too is said to have been born in the fields 
among the herds and the unbroken mares. There he made 
his first inexpert eiforts with the bow : ah me ! what ex- 
pert hands he has now ! Nor does he take cattle for his 
mark, as he did then ; his delight is to transfix girls and to 
bring down proud-spirited men. He strips the young man of 
his wealth ; and constrains the old man ta utter words that 
disgrace him at the angry fair one's door. (Led by him, the 
girl steps furtively over the bodies of the sleeping watch, and 
meets the youth alone in the dark."~) Timorously she treads the 
ground on tiptoe, and gropes ha^lind way. Alas, unhappy 
they whom the god severely persecutes ; and happy he on 
whom kind Love breathes gently. 

Come, sacred boy, to our festive banquet ; but lay aside thy 
arrows, and hide far, far hence, thy glowing torch. Celebrate 
the god, all of you, in song, and summon him with your 
voices to the flock ; let each' summon openly to the flock, and 
secretly to himself; or even openly each to lumself, for the 
jocund rout is boisterous, and the curved pipe dins in Phry- 
gian tone. Be merry : Night is now yoking her horses, and 
the yellow Stars are following the chariot of their mother in 
wanton dance ; after them comes silent Sleep with sombre 
wings outspread, and black Dreams with dubious gait. 


Let us speak good words at the altars ; the natal day is 
come. All who are present, man and woman, favour us with 
your tongues. Let pious incense be burnt on the hearths, 
and odours which the luxurious Arab sends us from his rich 
land. Let the Genius himself be present to behold his own 
honours, with his sacred locks adorned with soft garlands. 
Let his temples drop with pure spikenard, and let him have 
his fill of libations of pure wine. May he grant you, Cer- 
inthus, whatever you shall demand. Come, why do you 
delay? He wiU grant; make your request. I augur that 

» Elegy II.] This Elegy properly belongs to the foiirtli book, for it 
celebrates the birth-day of Cerinthus, the lover of Sulpicia. 


you -will wisli for tke faithful love of a wife. I suspect the 
gods themselves are already aware of this/ and that you would 
be less pleased to have all the fields in the whole world which 
the stout rustic ploughs with the strong ox, or all the gems 
produced by the earth in wealthy India, where shines the 
ruddy wave of the eastern sea. Your vows are ratified.^ 
See you how Love flies hither with quivering wings, and 
bears the yellow bonds of marriage ? Bonds which will en- 
dure for ever, until decrepit age brings wrinkles and hoary 
hair. Come with this winged omen, O natal day, and 
supply a progeny ; and may a young group sport before thy 


The country and her villa detain my girl, Cornutus ; oh, 
one must be made of iron to remain in the city. Venus her- 
self has now migrated to the glad fields. And Love is learn- 
ing the ploughman's rustic words. Oh, if I might behold my 
mistress the while, how bravely would I there turn up the 
ground with the stout prong ! I would follow the curved 
plough, like a husbandman, when the bullocks prepare the 
ground for sowing ; nor would I complain that the sun scorched 
my delicate limbs, and the burst blisters made my soft hands 

Even beauteous Apollo fed the oxen of Admetus ; neither 
his harp nor his unshorn locks availed him, nor could he cure 
his amorous distresses with wholesome herbs ; love had con- 
quered all the powers of his medical art. The god himself 

' / suspect the gods, &c.] That is, I suspect that this is the burthen 
of all yoiir prayers to them. 

2 Your vows are ratified.'] Vota cadimt. Most editors take this to mean 
just the reverse, " your vows are made, in vain; " the same words are 
used in this sense in Propertius, i. 17. But we have the authority of 
Bach and others for the sense which we have adopted, and which is 
alone consistent with what follows. 

2 Elegy III.] Nemesis, to whom the remaining Elegies of this book 
are addressed, had gone from Rome to her country house, and Tibullus 
declares his intention of becoming a peasant, and working in her fields, 
after the example of Apollo, who in similar circumstances became the 
herdsman of Admetus. So exasperated is he by the departure of his 
mistress, that he curses his favourite pursuit of agriculture for having 
caused it, and wishes for a return of the happy times when men fed on 


was wont to drive the cows from the stalls, and take them after 
feeding time to the streams to drink. Then the light rush 
basket was woven by his hand, and fine openings were left 
between the meshes for the passage of the whey. Oh how 
often is his sister said to have blushed when she met him 
carrying a calf across the fields ! Oh how often when he sang 
in some deep valley did the cattle dare to interrupt his exqui- 
site strains with their lowing ! Often did princes seek oracles 
in their anxiety, hut found them not, and the crowd returned 
home, frustrated, from the temple. Often did Latona grieve 
to see the rough disorder of those sacred locks, which a step- 
dame herself had before admired. Whoever had seen that 
undressed head and that unbound hair, would have asked 
where were the locks of Phosbus ? Where is thy.Delos now, 
Phoebus ? Where is the Delphic Pythoness ? Love com- 
mands thee to dwell in a little cabin. 

Happy the days of yore, when, as story tells, the immortals 
were not ashamed to serve Venus. That love-smitten god is 
now a common jest ; but one to whom his mistress is dear, 
would rather be a common jest than a god without love. 

But oh, cruel Ceres, who wilest away Nemesis from the city, 
may the earth never faithfully return thee the seed committed 
to it. And thou, youthful Bacchus, planter of the pleasant 
vine, do thou abandon the accursed vats. Thou canst not bury 
lovely woman in the dreary fields with impunity ; thy vintage 
is not worth such a price; father. O farewell to the fruits of 
the earth ; rather than our girls should be banished to the 
country, let us eat acorns and drink water in primitive fashion. 
What were the men of those times the worse for not having 
sown furrows ? When love inspired them, kind Venus gave 
them joys in the shady vaUey. There were no guards then, 
no doors that shut out those who would come in ; charming 
customs, return, if it be possible ! 

Lead on : I will till the land in obedience to my mistress. 
I do not shrink from chains and blows. 



I SEE my slavery, and a mistress ready : farewell now, 
freedom of my fathers. A hard servitude is imposed upon 
me; I am held in chains ; and Love wiU never relax my bonds. 
And whether I have done well or ill, he burns me. I am 
burned ; oh remove the torch, cruel girl ! Oh, that I might 
not feel such pangs, how much rather would I be a stone on 
the frosty mountain ; or stand like a rock breasting the mad 
winds, and beaten by the wrecking rage of the vast sea ! Now 
bitter is the day, and more bitter the shades of night : all 
seasons are now filled with gall and wretchedness. Elegies 
help me not, nor Apollo, the author of song : her craving hand 
is always stretched out for pay. Avaunt, Muses, if you are of 
no help to a lover. I do not worship you in order to sing of 
wars ; I describe not the journeyings of the Sun, "nor how 
the Moon, when she has completed her orbit, turns her horses 
back again. I seek easy access to my mistress by my songs : 
avaunt, Muses, if they are of no avail. 

But means of largess must be won by me by slaughter and 
crime^ that I may not lie weeping before her closed doors. 
Or I will carry off the tokens suspended in the holy fanes ; 
and Venus above all others shall be the object of my violence. 
She tempts me to wickedness by giving me a rapacious mis- 
tress : let her feel my sacrilegious hands. 

O perish, whoever gathers green emeralds, and dyes the 
snowy fleece with the Tyrian shell ! He gives girls motives 
for avarice, and so does the Coan robe, and the clear pearl from 

' Elegy IV-I Hopelessly devoted to a thankless mistress, TibuUus 
execrates her venality, but is ready to indulge it at all hazards. " The 
"whole poem," says Grainger, " is a tempest of amorous and contrary 
affections. By these our author is particularly distinguished from Ovid 
and Propertius. These poets generally begin and end their elegies with 
the same passion ; whereas the reader will often find in one of Tibullus's 
all those contrarieties and transitions which peculiarly characterize the 
passion of love, and are so beautiful in poetry. This justifies the elegant 
encomium which Joannes Baptista Pius bestows on our author : Princeps 
elegorum poetarum est dubio procul Al. TibuUus, quia vere amantem 
agit. Modo superbit, modo supplicat; annuit, renuit ; minatur, inter- 
cedit ; dedignatur, devovet, orat ; inconstans est, quod voluit non vult, 
quod optavit, refugit ; secum dissidens, ut in vera Cupidinis rota circumagi 


the Red Sea.' These things have made them ill-natured ; 
hence the door has come to know the key, and the dog has 
begun to guard the threshold. But if you oifer a large pre- 
sent, the guard is overcome, the locks do not oppose your 
entrance, and the dog is dumb.^ Alas, v\rhosoever of the gods 
gave beauty to an avaricious woman, what a good thing he 
buried under many bad ones ! Hence tears and quarrels ; 
this in fine is what has made Love an ill-famed god. But you 
who bar the door against lovers scorned for lucre, may wind 
and fire rob you of your ill-got gain. Let young men look 
with joy on the conflagration of your property, and not one of 
them trouble himself to throw water on the flames. Or death 
win overtake you ; and there will be none to mourn, or sadly 
to minister to your obsequies. But the girl who was good- 
natured and not avaricious, though she live a hundred years, 
shall be wept for before the blazing pyre ; and some aged 
man, revering the memory of his old love, shall- yearly deck 
her reared tomb with flowers, and say as he quits it, " Rest 
well and placidly, and light be the earth above thy quiet 
bones ! " 

My warnings are true ; but what does truth avail me ? 
I must love her upon her own conditions. Even if she bid 
me sell my ancestral domain, go, my Lares, pass into the prae- 
tor's hands and into the schedule.^ All the poisons of Circe 
and of Medea, all the deadly herbs produced by the soil of 
Thessaly, and the virulent hippomanes* which drops from the 

' perisli, &c.] Stanley has rendered this passage in the notes on 
Ids translation of Anacreon, first published in 1655; 

Oh may the man who digg'd green emeralds first, 
And dipt white wool in Tyrian dye, be curs'd ! 
Garments from Cos, and orient pearls he brought 
From the Red Sea, and women avarice taught. 
" The dag is dumb.] We know not who is the author of the following 
sarcastic epitaph on a dog which belonged to a married lady : 
Latratu fures excepi, rautus amantes : 
Sic placui domino, sic placui doming. 
I barked at thieves, was mute when lovers came ; 
And thus I pleased my master, pleased my dame. 
' Pass into the prtetor's hatids, &c.] Ite sub imperium, sub titulumqm 
Lares : Be placed at the disposal of the prsetor to be sold by auction, and 
be inscribed in the public lists of property for sale. 
* Hippomanes.] Both authors and critics vary greatly in their opinions 


lustful mare, when Venus inspires the unbroken herd, — if 
only Nemesis looks upon me complacently — let her mix these 
and a thousand other dreadful ingredients, and I will drink 


Thy favour, Phoebus ! A new priest enters thy temple : 
hither, come hither with harp and song ; I entreat thee now 

respecting this mysterious ingredient of witchcraft. Aristotle and The- 
ocritus mention a plant of that name, the smell of which made mares 
turn mad for the stallion. Pliny says the Mppomanes was a fig-like ex- 
crescence on the forehead of the new-born foal, which the dam immedi- 
ately bit oif and swallowed; and if she was prevented, she would not let 
the foal suck. Virgil, Georg. iii., agrees with TibuUus in making it a 
liquid exudation. 

' Elegy F.] Thesubjectof this Elegy is the appointment of Messalinus, 
Messala's eldest son, as one of the Quindecemviri, the fifteen priests of 
Apollo, who had charge of the Sibylline books. "The Romans," says 
Grainger, "were proud of being thought the posterity of the Trojans; 
and their poets embraced every opportunity of making their court to the 
people by adopting that notion. Nor was this prejudice confined to the 
meaner sort of Romans ; Julius Caesar, and his successor, either believed, 
or affected from political motives to believe, that they were descendants 
of jEneas. Nay, so far was this folly carried, that Augustus entertained 
a design of transferring the seat of empire fi'om Rome to Troy. This 
the Romans dreaded not a little; and to such a height did their ap- 
prehensions increase, a. u. c. 734, when Augustus was in Syria, that Ho- 
race, all courtier as he was, is supposed to have written that noble ode, 
Justum et tenacem, lib. iii. od. 5, obliquely to dissuade the emperor from 
that measure. As this, however, was a very delicate subject, and none 
knew better how to flatter his patron than Horace, he abruptly breaks off, 
— non hsec jocosae conveniunt lyrse : these things are unsuited to the 
sportive lyre. TibuUus, however, not lying under the same obligations 
to Augustus as the lyric poet, and neither courting the smiles nor dread- 
ing the frowns of the court, he, like a true patriot in all the enthusiasm 
of poetry, introduces the Sibyl pushing on jEneas to the new settlement 
destined by heaven for him and his followers in Italy. As Augustus pro- 
fessed a great veneration for the Sibylline books, and wal-anxious to be 
thought the son of Apollo, who, he said, fought for him at the battle of 
Actium ; the people (whose prejudices to the removing of their seat of 
empire must have been, augmented by our poet's well-timed prophecy) 
would have regarded Augustus's breach of the Sibyl's orders as the most 
impious of violations. Besides, so flagrant a disrespect, and in one too of 
such eminence, might have produced the most fatal consequences to his 
government, by weakening the reverence which his subjects entertained 
for the Sibylline writings. This, Augustus was too sensible not to per- 
ceive, and too politic not to avoid." 


to strike the vocal chords with thy thumb, and shape the 
strains to words of praise. With thy temples bound with 
triumphal laurel, come to thy own rites, while they heap the 
altar ; but come neat and fair ; put on now thy choicest gar- 
ment;' comb well thy long locks, and appear as they say 
thou didst, when after the rout of King Saturn thou sangest 
praises to victorious Jove. Thou seest coming events long 
beforehand ; the augur, vowed to thee, knows well what the 
prescient bird sings.' Thou governest lots ; through thee the 
aruspex forecasts the future, when a god has set marks on 
the slippery entrails. Guided by thee, the Sibyl who sings 
in hexameters the hidden things of fate, has never misled the 
Eomans. Phoebus, suffer Messalinus to touch the books of 
the prophetess, and expound to him thyself, I beseech thee, 
what she sings. 

She made known his destiny to ^neas, after, as the legend 
tells, he bore off his father and his rescued Lares, nor thought 
that Rome would be, when he looked back in sorrow from the 
deep on Bion and its burning gods. Romulus hai, not yet 
formed the walls of the eternal city, in which his associate 
Remus was not destined to dwell ; but cows fed there on 
the grassy Palatine, and humble cabins stood on the site of 
Jove's citadel. Milk-swilUng Pan lodged there under the 
shade of the holm-oak, and wooden Pales carved with a rustic 
biU-hook. The garrulous pipe, sacred to the woodland god, 
hung on a tree, as the homage of the roving shepherd : the pipe, 
in which the range of reeds decreases continually, for a smaller 
tube is joined with wax to thex first, and so on to the end. 
But where the open region of the Velabrjim^ extends, a little 
boat used to ply over the water. In it the girl who was to 
charm the rich master of the flock, was often ferried over to 
the youth on festal days. Gifts of the fruitful country re- 
turned with her, a cheese, and the white lamb of a snowy 

' Thy choicest garment.^ Sepositum. The poet in plain terms requests 
the god to wash his face, comb his hair, and put on his best suit, the one 
which is laid by for liigh days and holidays. 

^ The Velabrum.'i The low ground lying between the Cnpitoline and 
the Aventine hills, and stretching from the forum to the river. It was 
anciently a swamp, until drained by the Cloaca Maxima and its branches, 
after which it was covered with streets and became one of the most popu- 
lous districts of the city. 


" Intrepid ^neas," sang the Sibyl, " brother of winged Love, 
who carriest the sacred things of Troy in thy ships as thou 
fliest, Jupiter now assigns to thee the Laurentian fields ; that 
hospitable land now invites thy wandering Lares. Troy will 
then indeed marvel at itself, and own that thou hast done 
wisely in traversing so long a way. There thou wilt be sanc- 
tified when the honoured water of Numicus ' shall have sent 
thee to heaven as one of the Dii Indigetes. Lo, victory hovers 
over thy wave- worn ships. At last the hatighty godiJess joins 
the Trojans. Lo, the flames gleam before me in the camp of 
the Eutuli ; now I foretell death to thee, b»rbarip,n Turnus. 
Before my eyes is the Laurentian camp and the wall of La- 
vinium, and Alba Longa founded by Prince Ascanius. Thee, 
too, I see, priestess, who wilt charm Mars ; Ilia, thou hast 
deserted the altars of Vesta ; I see your stealthy embraces, 
and the fiUets cast on the ground, and the arms of the ardent 
god left on the shore. Pluck, buEs, the grass'from the seven 
mountains while now you may ; this will be the site of a great 
city. Rome, thy name is destined by fate to rule the earth, 
wherever Ceres looks down from heaven on her fields, from 
where the rising' of the sun is seen, to where his panting steeds 
bathe in the restless waves. I sing true things : so may I 
ever feed unharmed on the sacred laurel,^ and my virginity 
be eternal." 

Thus the prophetess sang, and called thee, Phoebus, to her, 
and tossed her head and her dishevelled hair. Expound also 
to Messalinus whatever Amalthea, whatever Mermessia told ; 
what Herophile, beloved of Phoebus, announced ; and the sa- 
cred oracles which Aniena of Tibur carried dry in her bosom 
through the floods.^ These foretold that there would be a 

^ Numiaiis^ JSneas lost his life either in the river Numicus or in a 
battle fought near it. See Livy, i. 2. Modem topographers fix on a 
small stream called the Rio Torto as the ancient Numicus ; it passes 
■within a short distance of Pontica, which is generally recognised as the 
ancient Lavinium. 

^ Feed an the sacred laurel.'] The Pythia before she ascended the tri- 
pod bathed in the water of Castalia, crowned herself with laurel, and 
chewed its leaves to increase the inspiration. 

' Amalthea, Mermessia, &c.] According to the most learned of the 
Romans there were ten Sibyls : the Persian, Libyan, Delphic, Cumeean, 
Erythraean, Samian, Cuman, Hellespontic, Phrygian, and Tiburtine. But 
the list may be greatly curtailed, for in some cases two or more of these 
local titles were given to the same person. It seems certain that the 


comet, evil sign of war, and that many stones would rain down 
upon the earth ; and they say that trumpets and clashing arms 
were heard in the sky, and that the sacred groves predicted 
flight. The cloudy year, too, saw the rayless sun yoke his pale 
horses ; and the images of the gods shedding warm tears ; and 
heard oxen foretelling the fates with human voices. 

These things were of old ; but now, mild Apollo, sink such 
portents beneath the tameless ocean ; and may the lighted 
laurel crackle well in the sacred fire, giving omen of a happy 
and sacred year. Ho, the laurel hath given good tokens ; 
farmers, rejoice ! Ceres will distend the full granaries with 
corn, and the rustic, tipsy wit^ must, will tread the grapes 
till cisterns and vats shall fail to hold the abundant liquor. 
The shepherd bedewed by Bacchus shall celebrate his festival 
of Pales ; then keep aloof from the stalls, ye wolves. Filled 
with drink he will set fire solemnly to heaps of straw, and leap 
through the sacred flames. And the matron will bear chil- 
dren, and the son will catch hold of hi§ father by the ears 
and kiss him ; nor will the grandfather weary of watching 
over his little grandson, and prattling broken words with the 
child. Then the lads who have done service to the gods will 
stretch themselves on the grass where falls the light shade of 
an ancient tree. Or they will spread out their garments for 
screens and tie thern with flowery sprays ; and a crowned 
goblet shall stand before them. Each spreads a banquet for 
himself, and erects a table and a couch of turf. There the 
yoiitfa will fling spiteful words at his girl in his drink, which 
he will soon wish unsaid ; for savage as he is just now, he will 
weep when he is sober, and swear that he was not in his right 

So please thee, Phoebus, perish bows, perish arrows, only 
let Love roam the earth unarmed. Good is the art of archery, 
bilt since Cupid took up arms, alas, alas, to how many has 
that art been ■woeful ! And to myself especially, for I have 
lain wounded for this year past ; and I encourage the fester ■■ 
ing sore, so pleased am I with the pain ! Scarcely have I 

CumEEan, Cuman, Erythrtean, and Hellespontic were one aiid the same. 
The names of these prophetesses, Amalthea, Herophile, &c., are involved 
in almost hopeless confusion. Tdbullus appears to have taken at random 
names commonly current without investigating very closely their origin 
or their relations to each other. 


power left to sing my Nemesis, without whom I cannot find 
words or measure for a line. 

But thee, girl, I warn (for poets are under the safeguard of 
the gods) spare the sacred poet ; that I may celebrate Messa- 
linus, when vanquished towns ' shall be borne as honours of 
war before the chariot in which hd sits crowned with laurel ; 
whilst the soldier also, bound with the laurel of the fields, 
shall sing aloud, lo, triumphe ! Then let fiis father, my Mes- 
sala, present a hallowed spectacle to the crowd,^ as he ap- 
plauds the son who passes before him in the chariot of victory.. 
Grant this, Phoebus : so may thy locks be unshorn ; so may 
thy sister be ever pure. 


Macbe is bound for the camp : what will become of tender 
Love ? Shall he go with him, and bravely bear arms on his 
neck ? And whether Macer toils on the long march by, land, 
or crosses the uncertain sea, will Love be ready to go by his 
side equipped with weapons ? Burn him, boy, I beseech thee, 
for thus savagely forsaking the leisure of thy service, and 
bring back the deserter beneath thy banners. If thou sparest 
soldiers, here too is one who wiU be a soldier, ay, and even 
fetch his own thin potation of water in his helmet. 

* Vanquished tcyums.^ Plans of towns taken in war formed part of the 
pageantry of triumphs. They were at first of wood ; but in Caesar's last 
triumph they were of silver. 

° Ihen let Ma father, &c.] Turn Messala meus det pia spectacula iurha, 
Et plaudat curru pratereunte pater. Grainger, following the false lead of 
irost commentators, translates these lines thus : 

His father hails him as he rides along, 
And entertains with pompous shows the throng. 
The interpretation we have given above is that of Heyne ; the father ap- 
plauding his son's triumph were a spectacle of paternal pride and affec- 
tion that would claim the sympathy of the beholders : such is the force of 
the word^ia. 

' Elegy F/.] Impatient of the cruelty of Nemesis, TibuUus proposes 
to follow the example of his brother poet, Macer, and go to the wars, 
but quickly recollects how often he had made similar resolutions, but 
wanted firmness to persevere in them. The poem must have been writ- 
ten about E. c. 24, when Augustus was preparing to send jElius Gallus 
into Arabia Felix. The'latter part of this Elegy, beginning with, " But 
come, whoever thou art," is, in the common text, inserted into the third 
Elegy of the second book, where, as the best editors admit, it is quite out 
of place. 



I am for the camp : farewell Venus, farewell the girls ! I, 
too, am valiant, and the trumpet was made for me. I talk 
big ; but when I have talked magnifi6ently big, the barred 
door upsets all my brave words. How often have I sworn 
that I would never return to her threshold ! And when 
I have sworn stoutly, my foot goes back there of its own 
accord. Cruel Love, may I see thy arrows broken, and thy 
torch extinguished, if it be possible ! Wretch that I am, thou 
torturest me, and forcest me to curse myself, and to utter 
mad blasphemies. 

But come, whoever thou art, to whom Cupid is a grim- 
visaged commander, come to my tent and, let us share the toils 
of war together. This iron age prizes not Venus, but booty ; 
yet booty is won with many hardships. Booty hath girded 
fierce ranks with hostile arms-; hence comes bloodshed, and 
slaughter, and expedited death. Booty impelled men to double 
their dangers on the restless sea, when it put warlike prows 
to insecure ships. He who fights for booty longs to possess 
immense fields, that he may have countless flocks feeding 
over multitudes of acres. He is anxious to procure foreign 
stone ; a column is carried to his ' mansion, amidst the con- 
fusion of the city, by a thoi^and strong pairs of oxen ; and a 
mole locks in the tameless sea, that the fish at ease within it 
may disregard the wintry billows. But let Samian pottery, 
and plastic clay fashioned on the Cuman wheel, bear glad 
cheer for yoh. Alas, alas, I see that our girls delight in 
wealthy lovers. Come then spoil and plunder, (if Venus 
craves for opulence ; that my Nemesis may swim in luxury, 
and be made conspicuous by my presents as she walks through 
the city. Let her wear thin robes spun by the Coan women 
and inwoven with gold ; let her be attended by dark-skinned 
servants scorched in India, and blackened by the fire from 
the near chariot of the sun ; let Africa and Tyre vie in sup- 
plying her with their choicest colours, their purples of violet 
and crimson tinge. 

I speak things notorious to all lovers : that fellow is now 
royally installed, who was often forced to show his chalked 
feet ' on the barbarian platform. 

' Chalked feet,'\ Slaves imported from abroad, -when they were ex- 
posed for sale, had their feet whitened with chalk or gypsum (plaster of 
Paris). The poet's successful rival was some wealthy freedman. 



I WOULD ere this have put an end to my woes by death ; 
but credulous hope cherishes life, and always says that to- 
morrow will be better. Hope cheers the husbandman ; hope 
commits the seed to the ploughed furrow, to be repaid by 
the field with large interest. She catches birds with the 
snare, and iishes with the rod, when the bait has previ- 
ously concealed the fine hooks. Hope consoles even the 
slave who is fastened in strong fetters : the irons rattle on his 
legs, yet he sings at his work. Hope assures me that Neme- 
sis will be kind ; but she refuses. Oh, stubborn girl, be not 
stronger than a goddess ! Spare me, I implore you by the 
bones and premature death of your sister ; so may the little 
one rest well beneath the gentle eartL She is sacred to me ; 
I will offer gifts upon her tomb, and garlands wet with my 
tears. I will fly to her tomb, and sit there a suppliant, and 
complain of my' fate to her mute dust. She will not suffer 
me, her client, always to weep for your sake. I deprecate 
her #ords, that you be kind to me, lest her neglected manes 
send ybu bad dreams, and your sad sister stand before your 
hed as you sleep, such in appearance as when, falling head- 
long from a high window, she went all bloody to the shades. 

I drop the subject, lest the bitter grief of my mistress be 
renewed. I am not worth that she should weep once through 
me; nor does she deserve that her speaking eyes should be 
spoiled with tears. It is a bawd that injures me ; my girl 
herself is good-natured. Phryne, the bawd, denies me ad- 
mittance, and goes backwards and forwards carrying notes 
concealed in her bosom. Often v?hen I hear sweet tones 
from my mistress's hard threshold, that old wretch says she 
is not at home. Often when a night has been promised me 
she brings me word that my girl is ill, or that she is frightened 
by some threatening events or other. Then I am mortally 

' Ekffy VII.] The poet would long ago have ended his woes by death, 
had he not been sustained by the caliolic cordial of hope. He implores 
Nemesis to have pity on him, adjuring her by the manes of her sister, to 
whose tomb he will repair as a suppliant ; and he inveighs against the go- 
between who thwarts his passion. In many editions this poem is joined 
to the preceding one. 

L 2 


tormented ; then my mind is lost in conjecturing who it is 
that enjoys my girl, and in how many ways. Then, bawd, I 
curse you ; you will have a sore life enough, if the gods fulfil 
the least part of my prayers. 



The festive calends of Roman Mars are come. This was 
the beginning of the year for our ancestors ; and now, accord- 
ing to estabUshed custom, gifts fly about in all directions 
through the streets of the city, and the houses. Say, Muses, 
with what gift shall I do homage to her who, mine or not 
mine, is always dear Nesera ? 


" The lovely are won with song, the avaricious with gold. 
Let her rejoice, as she is worthy to do, in your verses. But 
let a yellow wrapper enclose the snow-white book, and let the 
pumice first of all smooth its white leaves. On the surface 
of the thin paper let there be a finely-executed inscription, 
declaring your name, and between the two fronts let there be 
stained ornamental tips ; for thus should the work be adorned 
to be fit to send to her." 


I entreat you by yourselves, who have dictated my strains, 
and by the Castalian shade and the Pierian waters, go to h'eir 
house, and give her the handsome book as it was ; let it lose 
none of its gloss. She wiU send me back word, whether she 

' Elegy /.] This is a dedication,, iu the form of a dialogue between 
the poet and the Muses. Romulus, who divided the year into ten months, 
dedicated the first to his father Mars. Numa Pompilius added the months 
of January and February to the calendar of Romulus ; but the custom 
of presenting New-year's gifts continued, nevertheless, to be observed on 
the first of March. 


regards me with mutual affection, or with less, or whether I 
have lost all place in her bosom. But first wish her long 
health as she deserves, and say thus to her in submissive 
tone : " Your husband that will be,- your brother that now is, 
chaste Nesera, sends you this little gift and begs you to ac- 
cept it. And he swears that you are dearer to him than his 
vitals, whether you are to be his wife or his sister ; but his 
wife rather : nothing but Pluto's pallid water shall take from 
him the hope of that name." 


He was made of iron who first tore the beloved maid from 
the youth, and the beloved youth from the maid. Hard too 
was he who could bear such grief, and survive the loss of his 
mistress. I have not such fortitude ; such power of endur- 
ance is not in my nature. Sorrow breaks even stout hearts. 
Nor am I ashamed to speak the truth, and to confess my dis- 
gust for a life that has suffered so many woes. So when I 
shall have been changed into a thin shade, and the black dust 
shall cover my white bones, may Neara with long disheveUed 
hair come and weep before my funeral pile. But let her come 
accompanied by her dear sorrowing mother ; and let the one 
mourn a son-in-law, the other a husband. Then having ad- 
dressed my manes, invoked my soul, and washed their pious 
hands in water, let them with their black robes unbound col- 
lect all that will remain of my body, my whitened bones. And 
when they have collected them, let them first sprinkle them 
with old vidne, then wash them with white milk ; afterwards 
soak the moisture from them with linen cloths, and lay them 
dry in their marble home. Then be there poured upon them 
the materials supplied by rich Panchgia, the Eastern Arabians, 
and fruitful Assyria, and with them tears to my memory. 
Thus I desire to be disposed of when I am turned to bonfes. 
And let an inscription declare the sad cause of my death, and 
display these words on the conspicuous front of the tomb : 
Here lies Lygdamus ; grief and pining love for his lost bride 
Neaera were the cause of his death. 

' Elegy //.] Written oil the occasion of Nesera's departure from Rome 
with her mother. 



WhAt avails it, Nesera, to have weai-ied the gods with 
vows, and to have offered them pleasing incense with many 
prayers ? I have not done this that I might issue forth from 
a marble mansion, as the distinguished scion of an illustrious 
house ; or that my oxen might till many acres of land, and 
the kindly earth yield me large crops ; but that I might share 
with you the joys of a long life, and that my age might sink 
to rest on your bosom, when I should have completed my 
allotted span of life, and should be compelled to be ferried 
naked in the Lethsean boat. For what were I the better for 
a vast weight of gold ? Or though a thousand oxen tilled my 
fertile land? What to me were a mansion supported on 
Phrygian columns, or on those from your quarries, Taenarus 
or Caristus ?2 Or to have in my house plantations resembling 
sacred groves, and gilded beams, and a marble floor ? What 
delight have I in cloths dyed with the shell collected on the 
Red Sea's shore, or with the murex of Sidon, or in all the 
things besides which the vulgar admire ? These things excite 
envy. The things which the vulgar love are mostly worthless. 
A man's mind is not lightened or his cares removed by wealth, 
for Fortune rules time and its events by her own law. To 
me let poverty be welcome with thee, Nesera, but without 
thee I care for no gifts of kings. brightly fair day, that 
shall restore thee to me ! day for me thrice and four times 
blessed ! But if my god hears with no averted ears whatever 
vows are offered for that sweet return, I care not for kingdoms, 

' Elegy III.'] Tibullus complains of the inflexible cruelty of Neaera, 
and of the failure of all his vows and offerings to the gods — vows and 
offerings the object of which was not wealth, but that he might enjoy tlie 
society of his beloved one until the close of life. He values not wealth 
without love, and would gladly embrace poverty with Nesera. Without 
her, he would gladly die. 

^ Phrygian columns, &c.] The Phrygian marble, so highly prized by 
the Romans, was obtained from the quarries of Dorimia, a village near 
Synnada, one of the chief towns of Phrygia Magna. It was white with 
purple spots. Black marble, now.knoAvn as Nero Antico, was obtained 
from the promontory of Tsenarus in Laconia (Cape Matapan). Carystus 
iu the island of Euboea produced a white and green marble, resembling 
in hue the lower part of the stalk and outer coat of an onion or leek ; 
and hence it has received the name of Cipollino marble. 

tibulltjs. 151 

nor for the golden stream of Lydia,' nor for all the riches 
which the whole earth contains. Let others covet them ; to 
me be it granted to enjoy my dear spouse, content in humble 

Come, daughter of Saturn, and favour my timid vows; come, 
Cyprian goddess, wafted on thy sheU, and favour them. But 
if the return I pray for is denied by fate and by the sad 
sisters who spin the threads and sing the things that are to 
be, may lurid Orcus in his dull water call me to the vast 
rivers and the black marsh of the realms below. 


Mat the gods grant me better things ; nor let those dreams 
be true which hateful sleep presented to me last night. Avaunt, 
dreams ; turn away your false, delusive faces, and expect no 
longer to be believed. The gods give true warnings of com- 
ing destiny ; the entrails examined by the Tuscan seers give 
true warnings ; but idle dreams beguile us in the deceitful 
night, and fill our timorous minds with false fears ; yet man- 
kind, born for trouble, deprecate the omens of night with con- 
secrated meal and crackling salt. Be this as it may, whether 
they will 'believe the true soothsayer or a lying dream, / will 
pray that Lucina make my nightly fears to be vain, and grant 
that my anticipations be not fulfilled ; if my mind is conscious 
of no base deed, nor has my tongue impiously blasphemed 
the great gods. 

Night having traversed the firmament in her black chariot, 
had washed her wheels in the azure flood, nor had I been 
lulled by the god that is wholesome to the sick mind. Sleep 
fails before the house of care. At length when Phoebus looked 
forth from the verge of the orient, tardy sleep closed my weary 
eyes. Then a youth, with temples wreathed in chaste laurel, 
was seen to set foot within my dwelling. His unshorn locks 
flowed down his long neck, and breathed Syrian perfumes. 
His fairness was like that which shines from the face of 
Latona's daughter, and a rosy hue mingled with his snowy 

' Tlie golden stream of Lydia.'] The Pactolus. The name is now 
corrupted by the Turks into Bagouly. 

* Elegy I Vl. TibuUus describes a dream in -which Apollo appeared to 
him, and warned him of Nesera's inconstancy. 

152 TIBrLLUS. 

whiteness ; like the blush that suffuses the soft cheeks of the 
maid when first she is delivered to her young husband ; like 
as when maidens twine white lilies with amaranths ; like as 
when autumn ruddies the white apples. A palla' played upon 
his ankles, for that was the garb in which his fair body was 
clothed. On his left side hung the speaking lyre, a work of 
rare art, shining with tortoise-shell and gold. Striking its 
chords with an ivory plectrum as soon as he entered, he gave 
forth auspicious sounds, accompanying them with his lips. 
And when his fingers and his voice had mingled in harmony, 
he uttered these words in sweet, sad measure : 

" Hail, favourite of gods ; for Phoebus, and Bacchus, and 
the Muses constantly favour the chaste poet. But Bacchus, 
son of Semele, and the learned Sisters, are unable to declare 
what the future will bring, but to me my father has given to 
be able to see the laws of fate, and the events of coming 
time. Hear therefore what I, unfailing prophet, what I, the 
Cynthian god, will utter with true lips. She who is dear to 
thee as no daughter is to her mother, as no fair girl is to the 
eager bridegroom ; she for whom thou dost weary the gods 
with vows, who suffers not thy days to pass in peace, and 
who mocks thee with nightly visions when sleep has wrapped 
thee in her sombre mantle ; she who is celebrated in thy 
songs, the beautiful Nesera, prefers to be the bride of another. 
The unkind girl has her own amorous cares which are not 
for thee ; Nesera rejoices not in the thought of entering a pure 
house as a bride. Ah, cruel sex ! woman, faithless name ! 
Ah perish whosoever she be that has learned to betray a 
lover's hopes ! But she may be bent ; their minds are change- 
able ; only stretch out thy arms to her with abundant prayers. 
Harsh Love hath taught his votaries to perform stubborn 
tasks ; harsh Love hath taught them to bear stripes. That 
I once pastured the white herds of Admetus, is not a tale in- 
vented for idle pastime. At that time I could neither take 
pleasure in my tuneful lute, nor accompany its chords with 
my voice ; but I practised airs on a shining oaten pipe, I, the 
great son of Latona and Jove. Thou knowest not what love 
is, young man, if thou refusest to bear with a cruel and in- 
tractable mistress. Hesitate not therefore to employ the per- 

' A palla.'\ This was a loose robe reaching from the head to the feet. 
It was the appropriate garb of harpers, and of their patron Apollo. 


suasive accents of sorrow j hard hearts' are overcome by soft 
prayer. If there be truth in the oracles chanted in the sacred 
temples, report these words to her in my name : The Delian 
god himself promises thee this marriage, this happy marriage ! 
Cease to wish for another husband." 

He said, and dull sleep departed from me. Ah may I 
escape the sight of such ills ! I cannot believe that thy wishes 
are contrary to mine, nor that there is such guilt in thy heart. 
For thou wast not born of the waters of the vast deep, nor of 
the fierce, fire-vomiting Chimaera ; nor of the dog with three 
tongues and three heads, whose back is covered with a ser- 
pent brood ; nor of Scylla, whose virgin form is cinctured with 
dogs ; nor did a savage lioness conceive and bring thee forth, 
nor the barbarous land of Scythia, nor dread Syrtis ; but thou 
wast born in a civilized dwelling, not inhabited by cruel beings, 
and of a mother exceeding all others in gentleness, and of the 
most amiable of fathers. 

May the god turn these cruel dreams to a better result, and 
bid the soft south winds sweep them away as frustrated presages. 


You are staying at the waters that flow from the Tuscan 
fountains, waters not to be visited in the dog-days, but now 
excelling even the sacred wells of Baiae,^ whilst the earth is 
renewing itself in the purple spring. To me Persephone 
announces the fatal hour ; spare, goddess, an innocent youth ! 
I have not attempted audaciously to reveal the inviolable rites 
of the goddess worthy of all praise. My hand has not tainted 
the cup with deadly juices, nor given sure poisons to any one ; 
I have not sacrilegiously set fire to temples ; no impious deeds 
rack my heart with remorse ; nor have I opened my mouth to 
utter mad blasphemies against the gods. My black hair is 

^ Elegy V.'] The poet, suffering under a protracted fever, addresses 
eome friends who were visiting the liot springs of Etrurig.. He laments 
his prospect of untimely death, and entreats his friends to offer sacrifices 
for his recovery. • - i 

= But now excelling, &c.] The common reading of the origmal is 
unanimously given up as unintelligible. We hav.e .adopted Bach's con- 
jectural emendation, which appears to us one of the happiest efforts of the 
kind with which we are acquainted : Nunc autem ante sacrds Baiarum 
maxima lympTias. 


not yet touched with grey, nor has age, bent and slow-footed, 
come upon me. [My parents first saw my birth-day when 
both consuls fell by the same fate,] ' Why rob the vine of its 
growing grapes ; and pluck with marring hand the just-formed 
apples ? Spare me, all ye gods who possess the pale waters, 
you to whose lot has fallen the third dread realm ! Let me 
become acquainted hereafter with the Elysian fields, and the 
bark of Lethe, and the Cimmerian lakes,^ when my face is 
pale with wrinkled age, and I, an old man, relate the events of 
early days to youths.^ May the fear which this fever causes 

' Both consuls fell.'] Meaning Hirtius and Pansa, who were mortally 
■wounded at Mutina, in the battle against Antony, b. c. 43. The passage 
enclosed between brackets is certainly an interpolation ; not only has it 
no necessary dependence on the context, but the latter would be improved 
if it were taken away. The original consists of two lines, the second of 
which is found verbatim in Ovid, Trist. iv. 10, 6 ; 

Here was I born: then rose my natal day, 
When by one fate both consuls slaughter'd lay. 

If TibuUus was bom in the same year with Ovid, it is singular that 
the latter, who was so minutely communicative, should have omitted so 
remarkable a fact, the mention of which would seem naturally prompted 
by his-esteem for TibuUus. But on the contrary he leaves us to suppose, 
from a successive enumeration of poets, that TibuUus was considerably 
his senior ; and he regrets that fate had not allowed him to cultivate his 
friendship. Moreover the chronology which these lines would establish, 
can by no means be reconciled with various known events of our poet's 
life. For instance, it would show him to have been only thirteen or 
fourteen years of age when he bore a distinguished part in his patron 
Messala's victorious campaign in Gaul. TibuUus fell sick at Corcyra on 
his voyage with Messala to Syria, which was undertaken at the latest in 
726 (b. c. 28) ; and it appears from the Elegy which he wrote on that oc- 
casion that he must have been for some time the favoured lover of Delia. 
That Elegy is one of his most successful compositions, and his precocity 
is unexampled, if before reaching the age of sixteen, he had earned ail 
these triumphs in war, and love, and poetry. Lastly, Horace must have 
been forty when he wrote the Epistle in which he compUments TibuUus as 
the candid critic of his satirical and epistolary " discourses : " a very un- 
likely sort of deference to one who was more than twenty years his 

' Cimmerian lakes."] In Homer and his imitators the Cimmerians are a 
people who dweU in the mysterious regions of the far west, in a sunless 
land, shrouded in mists and clouds on the borders of the Ocean Stream, 
near the entrance to the realms of Hades. 

', My black hair . . . to youths.] These lines have been happily imi- 
tated by Hammond : — 

No stealth of time has thinned Tny flowing hair," 
Nor age yet bent me with her iron hand ; 


me prove groundless I I have now lain ill these fifteen days, 
whilst you are celebrating the divine powers of the Tuscan 
waters, and the yielding wave is parted by your straining 
arms. Live happy, and remember me, whether I remain on 
earth, or the Fates will that I shall be no more. Meanwhile, 
promise black victims to Pluto, and libations of white milk 
mingled with wine. 


Come, fair Bacchus : so may the mystic vine be thine per- 
petually ; so may thy brows be ever bound with ivy. Take 
away my pangs, thou who hast thyself had need of the same 
medication : often has Love succumbed beneath the power of 
thy attribute. Dear boy, let the goblets mantle with generous 
Bacchus ; go pour out Falernian for me with prone hand. Be 
gone far hence, cares and troubles, a tormenting race ! Here 
let the Delian god show his radiant presence with white birds 
of good omen. And you, sweet friends, second my purpose, 
and let no one decline to follow my example. Or if any one 
refuses the friendly strife of wine, may the girl he loves de- 
ceive him by some impenetrable artifice. 

That god makes the soul wealthy ; he tames the haughty 
spirit, and makes it obedient to the will of a mistress ; he 
conquers Armenian tigers and tawny lions, and gives soft 
hearts to savage beasts. These things, and greater yet. Love 
can do. But call for the gifts of Bacchus ! Which of you 
likes an empty cup ? Bacchus is equitable ; he does not look 
grimly on those who honour him, and with him merry wine ; 
but to the sober he shows his wrath more and more : whoso 
fears the might of an angry god, let him drink ! How dread- 

Ah why so soon the tender blossom tear, 

Ere autumn yet the ripened fruit demand ? 
Ye gods who dwell in gloomy shades below. 

Now slowly tread your melancholy round ; 
Now wandering view the baleful rivers flow, 

And musing hearken to their solemn sound : 
let me still enjoy the cheerful day. 

Till, many years unheeded o'er me rolled. 
Pleased in my age I trifle life away, 

And tell how much I loved ere I grew old. 
' Elegy VI.'\ Nesera has married a man of her own rank in life, and 
TibuUus seeks solace in wine for his disappointed affections. 


ful he is to such, and witfh what chastisement he visits them, 
the gory victim of the Cadmean matron teaches us.' But far 
from us be this fear ; let her feel, wherever she be, what is 
the force of an offended deity's anger ! 

What prayer do I utter, insensate that I am ! Let my rash 
wishes be scattered to the winds and the clouds. Though 
thou no longer carest for me, Nesera, be happy, and fair be 
thy destiny. For us, let us give our careless moments to the 
table ; one serene day is come after many bad ones. — Ah me, 
it is hard to affect false joys ; it is hard to feign merriment 
when the mind- is sad; the forced smile sits ill on lips that 
belie the heart, and the words of drunken revelry ill befit the 
anxious. — Why do I grieve and whine ? Base cares, begone ! 
Father Lenseus hates sad talk. 

Thus didst thou weep of yore the perjury of Theseus, O 
Gnosian maid, deserted on the unknown shore. Thus, 
daughter of Minos, did skilled Catullus sing for thee, and . tell 
of the abominable acts of the ungrateful man. And I now 
warn you, my. comrades: Happy will you be if you learn from 
another's suffering to avoid your own. Be not insnared by 
arms that hang round your neck, nor beguiled by the coaxing 
prayers of a crafty tongue. Though the false one swear by 
her own eyes, and by her Juno and her Venus, there will be 
no faith in her oaths : Jupiter smiles at lovers' perjuries, and 
bids the winds scatter them. Why then do I complain so 
often of the words of a deceiving girl ? Away from me, all 
serious words. — How gladly would I rest with thee the live- 
long night, and wake with thee the live-long day ! False to 
me without cause ; not kind to me though with cause to be 
so ; false, but though false, yet dear ! 

Bacchus loves the Naiads ;\why do you loiter, slow attend- 
ant ? Dilute this old wine with water. If my fickle mis- 
tress shuns my table, preferring the bed of a low rival, I 
will not spend the whole night in sighing. Go, boy, bring 
stronger wine. I ought long ago to have perfumed my head 
with Syrian nard, and have twined flowers in my hair. 

' The gory victim, &c.] Pentheus, king of Thetes, having denied tlie 
divinity of Bacchus, and given orders that he should be treated as a crimi- 
nal, the god inspired all the women of the land with raving madness, and 
the king's own mother, Agave, the daughter of Cadmus, headed the 
Bacchanals who tore him to pieces. 




I "WILL sing of thee, Messala. Though thy known worth 
makes me fear that my feeble powers may be unequal to the 
task, yet I will begin. But if my song fails to express the 
praise due to thee, though I be a humble recorder of such 
great deeds as thine, and no one by thyself can so commit thy 
exploits to writing but that still greater things shall remain 
to tell, it is enough for me to have had the will. Nor do thou 
scorn my humble offering. Even the Cretan ^ offered accept- 
able gifts to PhcBbus ; and Icarus^ was the most pleasing of all 
hosts to Bacchus, as the constellations of Erigone and the Dog 
testify in the clear sliy, beyond denial by any future age. 
Moreover Alcides, who was to ascend Olympus as a god, set 
his glad feet within the house of Molorchus.* Often have the 
celestials been propitiated with a little salt, nor are bulls with 
gilded horns always sacrificed to them. Let this little work 
too be accepted by thee, that I may have courage thence to 
compose many another copy of verses in thy praise. Be it 
another's task to tell of the wondrous work of the great uni- 
verse ; how the earth hath taken its place beneath the im- 

' Poem /.] A laboured, clumsy, dull production, such as could not 
have been written by TibuUus; Some editors apologize for it upon the 
assumption that it was a juvenile effort ; but that cannot be admitted, since 
it is certain that it cannot be referred to an earlier date than that of the 
first Elegy of the first book, wliich is perhaps the most beautiful in the 
whole collection. 

° The Cretan.] The legend to which this refers is not known. 

' Icartis.] A king of Laconia. Bacchus taught him the art of making 
wine, a favour for which he paid dearly ; for some peasants whom he 
treated with the strange liquor thought they were poisoned, and mur- 
dered him. His daughter Erigone hanged herself for grief. Bacchus 
changed the father and daughter and their bitch Mera into constella- 

* Molorchtis.'] A shepherd of Cleonia, who gave hospitality to Hercules. 
The hero rewarded him by killing the Nemsean lion, the ravager of the 
shepherd's flock. 


mense atmosphere ; how the ocean hath gathered itself into 
a globular form ; how the unstable air where it strives to 
rise from the earth, is everywhere mingled with the fiery 
ether, and how the whole is enclosed above by the pendent 
sky. But whatever my Muses may avail to do, whether they 
can match thy glory, or, surpass it, which I have no hope of, 
or fall short, and they will certainly fall short of it, I will de- 
dicate all this song to thee, that my poem may not want the 
dignity of thy great name. 

Though thou hast inherited the abundant renown of thy 
ancient race, thy glory was not content with, ancestral fame ; 
•nor dost thou inquire only what the inscription states beneath 
each bust, but thou strivest to surpass the old honour of thy 
line, and to shed more lustre on thy ancestors than they on 
thee, But not the inscription alone beneath thy image, shall 
contain thy deeds, but great volumes shall be filled for thee 
with immortal verse ; and writers will spring up on all sides to 
celebrate thee in verse and prose. There will be a contest 
among them, who best praises thee. May I be victor among 
them, that 1 may inscribe my name upon such great acts. 

For who does greater things than thou dost, in camps and in 
the forum ? Thy merit is neither greater nor less in the one 
or the other ; as when a just balance is pressed down by 
equal weights in both scales, and neither falls nor rises ; 
whereas if the weights in either scale be unequal ; it fluctu- 
ates alternately up and down. If the inconstant, discordant 
populace is in commotion, no other can appease them like 
thee ; or if the anger of the judge is to be assuaged, no orator 
can soften him more. Pylos or Ithaca had not such a man 
in Nestor, or Ulysses, that great glory of a small state, though 
the former lived until Titan in his orbit had coinpleted three 
centuries with prosperous hours ; and the latter had daringly 
roamed through unknown cities where the earth is enclosed 
by the farthest waters of the sea. For he defeated the Cicones 
in arms, nor could the lotus stop him from his course. The 
Neptunian dweller among the crags of JEtna was vanquished 
by him, and, drunk with Thracian wine, was deprived of sight. 
He carried the winds of ^olus with him over the smooth sea, 
and visited the savage Lestrigonians, and Antiphates, through 
whose territory flows the cold stream of the noble Artacia. 
Him alone the magic beverage of the learned Circe did not 


transform, although she was the child of the Sun, and skilled 
in changing old forms by herbs or incantations. He arrived 
too at the cities of the Cimmerians on which day never rose, 
whether Phoebus was on that part of his course above the 
earth or on that below it. He saw how the great progeny of 
gods, made subjects of Pluto's realm below, went about among" 
the light shades. He passed swiftly the shores of the Syrens 
in his ship. Swimming between two confines of death, he was 
not affrighted by the ravening mouths of Scylla, when the 
monster writhed with her dogs amidst the mad waves ; nor 
did violent Oharybdis swallow him as was her wont, whether 
she rose aloft from the depths of the waves, or with yawning 
gulf laid bare the bottom of the sea. Nor let the slaughtered 
herds of the journeying Sun be passed in silence, nor the love 
of Calypso the daughter of Atlas, and her fruitful fields, nor 
the Phoeacian lands, the end of his weary wanderings. But 
whether these things are facts known to our earth, or whether 
fable has given them a new world, his may have been the 
greater toil, but thine is the greater eloquence. 

No one is more expert than thyself in the arts of war ; 
-how to encircle the camp with a safe ditch ; how to plant 
palisades against the approach of the enemy ; what Spot is 
most fit to enclose with intrenchments ; .how the earth throws 
out springs of fresh water ; how the approach may be made 
easy for thy own men, and difficult for the enemy, and how 
the soldier may be kept in vigour by continual rivalry for 
praise; who best casts the heavy javelin or the light arrow, 
or bursts through impediments with the stiff pike ; who can 
restrain the swift steed with a tight rein, or throw the reins 
loose to the slow one, and urge the animal straight forward, 
or compel it to wheel round in a narrow circle ; who excels 
•with the shield, in guarding right or left, whether the shock 
of the spear come this way or that ; or in hitting the mark 
with the sling. When coines the strife of bold Mars, and the 
adverse lines prepare to meet, then thy promptitude is seen in 
forming the order of battle, whether it is requisite that the 
forces should be drawn up in a square with a long -and even 
front, or in two wings, so that the right should attack the 
enemy's left, the left his right, and that the two should achieve 
a double victory. Nor does my song praise at random ; for 
I state things proved in war : witness for me the brave soldier 


of the vanquished lapydia; witness the crafty Pannonian, 
everywhere driven back into the cold Alps ; and witness that 
poor Arupinian, a soldier bom, to see whom, so unbroken by 
age, might make one wonder less at Pylian Nestor's reputed 
three centuries. For though the old man may have seen 
■ Titan bring back a hundred fruitful years, yet he will spring 
boldly on a swift courser's back, and govern him with the 
reins. Undfer thy command the horse-taming nation, that 
never turned their backs before, bent their free necks to the 
Roman chain. 

Nor shalt thou be content with these things ; for greater 
are at hand, as I have ascertained by veracious auguries such 
as Melampus son of Amythaon' could not surpass. Thou 
hadst j ust put on a garment shining with Tyrian woof at the 
dawn of the day that led in the fertile years ; when the Sun 
rose brighter out of the waves, and the discordant winds held 
their rude breath, nor did the sinuous streams run^ their ac- 
customed course ; even the stormy sea was calm, no bird 
swept through the air, no rough quadruped depastured the 
dense woods, when deep silence was afforded for the hearing 
of thy wishes. Jupiter himself came in his light chariot 
through the empty air, left the heaven-touching top of Olym- 
pus, lent an attentive ear to thy prayers, and assented to 
them all with his infallible nod. The fire applied to the altar 
shone out joyously above the "heaped brands. Begin then 
with divine encouragement to do great deeds ; be thy triumphs 
unlike those of others. Neighbouring Gaul will not be able 
to withstand thee in war, nor the bold warriors of broad Spain; 
nor the wild land possessed by the Tyrian colonists, nor those 
through which flows the Nile, or the royal water of Choaspes,^ 
or when the rapid Gyndes wears away the Arectsean plains 
with its many mouths, monuments of the infatuation of Cyrus,' 
nor the realmis to which Tomyris gave the Araxes for bound- 

' Melampus/] A great soothsayer, extolled in the Odysse)'. 

' Choaspes.] A river of Media, a confluent of the Tigris. The Per- 
sian kings drank no other water, and were provided with a supply of it 
wherever they went. 

' 2'Ac infatuation of Cyrus.] When about to attack Babylon, Cyrus 
drew off the waters of the river Gyndes through three hundred and sixty 
new-made channels, and spent so much time on the work, that the Baby- 
lonians were enabled to collect large forces against him. 


ary ; • nor the remotest land where the Padaeans, nearest of 
men to the rising sun, hold their inhuman banquets ;2 nor 
the Getse, whose country is watered by the Hebrusj the Tanai's, 
and the Mosynos. Why dwell on details ? Far as Oceanus 
bounds the habitable globe with his waters, there is no region 
which will stand against thee in arms. The Briton, yet un- 
conquered by Roman warfare, awaits thee, and the other part 
of the world beyond the course of the sun. For the earth is 
seated in the midst of the ambient air, and its whole orb is 
divided into five parts ; and two of these are always made 
waste by icy cold. There the gromid is always covered with 
thick mist, and the flowing wave is arrested in its course by 
frost, and stiffens into dense ice and snow ; for Titan has 
never carried his beams above those regions. But the middle 
region is always exposed to the heat of Phoebus, whether he 
approaches nearer the earth in his summer orbit, or hurries 
swiftly through the short days of winter. There therefore 
the earth is not thrown up by the ploughshare, nor does it 
yield corn-crops or fodder. Neither Bacchus nor Ceres blesses 
the fields, nor do animals inhabit the scorched region^ Be- 
tween it and the cold regions are placed the two fertile zones, 
our own and that which is opposite to it. Both these are 
tempered alike by the climate that adjoins them on either 
hand, in such wise that the one climate counteracts the other. 
Hence the year revolves for us through mild seasons ; hence 
the bull has learned to submit his neck to the yoke, and the 
flexible vine to ascend the lofty branches of the elm; the 
annual crop yields mature harvests, the earth is cleft with 
steel, the sea with the keel, and towns arise with walls of 
masonry. So when thy deeds shall have marched through 
new triumphs, thou alone wilt be declared the greatest in the 
two worlds. 

1 am not adequate to the heralding of such glory, not 
though Phoebus himself should dictate to me the strains I 
should sing. Thou hast Valgius, who may gird himself up 
for this great effort ; no one comes nearer than he to immortal 
Homer. I too will not be idle, but will devote my labour to 

' The Araxes for boundary. } Tomyris, queen of the Scythians, de- 
feated Cyrus on the Araxes. 

2 Inhuman banquets.} Herodotus (Thalia) mentions the Padsei as a 
cannibal people of India, who ate their sick relations. 



thy praises, though Fortune, adverse to me, impairs my powers, 
as is her wont. For whereas of old my house shone with 
great wealth, I had yellow crops to enrich granaries that were 
too small for my exuberant harvests, and vast flocks and herds 
feeding on the hiUs, plenty for their master, and too much for 
thieves and wolves ; now regret remains ; for my grief is re- 
newed as often as sad memory recalls the years that are past. 
But though worse befall, and I am despoiled of what is left, 
my Muses will not fail to celebrate thee. Nor shall Pierian 
honours alone be paid to thee ; for thee I would dare to go 
through the wild waves, though the wintry billows swell be- 
neath the winds ; for thee I would stand alone in the thick of 
battle, or cast my small body into the flames of ^tna. AU I 
am is thine ; if then thou hast a little regard for me ; be it as 
much or as little as thou wilt, if it be but at all ; the Lydian 
realm or the fame of Gylippus.' were not more precious to 
me, nor would I choose in preference the ability to write 
books like Homer's. But if this poem of mine, the whole or 
a part of it, be, either well approved or slightly skimmed by 
thee, no Fates shall put an end to my poetic laudations of 
thee. Even when the tomb shall have covered my bones ; 
whether my death is near at hand, or a long life remains for 
me ; should I be transformed, and range the solid plains as a 
horse, or become a bull, the glory of the slow herd, or as a 
bird be wafted with wings through the liquid air, whatever 
human form I may assume again after a long lapse of time, 
I wiU add new poems in thy praise to those I have begun. 


SuLPiciA is adorned on thy calends, great Mars ; come thy- 
self from heaven to behold her if thou art wise. Venus will 
pardon this ; but thou, truculent god, beware, lest, struck with 
admiration, thou let thy arms fall ignobly. When Love wants 
to fire gods, he lights tvfo torches at her eyes. Whatever she 
does, wherever she goes, Grace attends her unseen, and ar- 
ranges her attire. If she unbinds her hair, loose locks be- 

' Gylippus.] Coinmander of the Lacedaemonians, who defeated the 
Athenians in the Syracusan war. 


come her ; if she braids it, she is adorable in braided hair. 
She inflames all hearts if she walks abroad in a purple robe -, 
she inflames them if she is clad in pure white. So they say 
blessed Vertumnus wears a thousand dresses in eternal Olym- 
pus, and wears a thousand becomingly. She alone among 
girls is worthy of robes twice dipped" in the precious dye of 
Tyre, and to possess all the odorous produce gathered by the 
wealthy Arab husbandman in his fragrant fields, and all the 
gems which the blact Indian, nearest neighbour of the East- 
ern waves, collects on the red shore. Sound her praise, ye 
Muses, on the festive calends, and thou, proud Phoebus, on 
the vocal shell. May she 'enjoy this solemn rite for many 
years. No girl is worthier of your choir. 



Spaee my dear youth, boar that rangest the good pastures 
of the plain, or the intricacies of the shady mountain | be it 
of no avail for thee to have whetted thy hard teeth for fight, 
but may Love preserve him safe for me. But Diana and the 
chase drive all thoughts of me from his mind. Oh perish the 
forests and the hounds ! What infatuation to wish to hurt 
your soft hands in enclosing thick-wooded hills with toils ! 
What pleasure is it to creep stealthily into the lairs of wild 
beasts, and scar your white legs with hooked brambles ? Yet 
that I might roam with you, Cerinthus, I myself would carry 
the twisted nets through the mountains. I myself would 
track the steps of the swift stag, and loose the iron chains 
from the hound. Then, then would the forests please me, 
though I be convicted of lying down with you, light of my 
eyes, before the very toils. Then let the boar come to them ; 
he shall escape unhurt, rather than he shall disturb the joys of 
eager Venus. Now let there be no Venus without me ; but, 
obedient to Diana's law, spread the nets, chaste youth, with 
chaste hands. And whosoever shall surreptitiously trespass 
upon my delight, may she fall into the grasp of wild beasts 
and be torn to pieces. But you, Cerinthus, leave the chase 
to your father, and come back quickly to my bosom. 

M 2 



Come hither and dispel the sickness of my tender mistress, 
come hither, superb Phoebus of the unshorn locks ! Hasten, 
Phoebus, and believe me thou wilt not be ' sorry to have ap^ 
plied thy healing hands to the beautiful girl. Suffer not pale- 
emaciation to settle upon her limbs, nor a sickly hue to 
blemish her fair body ; and let the running waters of the river 
sweep all her malady and all our sad fears into the sea. Come, 
god, and bring with thee all the medicinal juices and all the 
chants that relieve bodily suffering. Torture not a youth, who 
fears the death of his mistress, and makes innumerable vows 
for her recovery. At times he vows, at times he utters angry 
Words against the immortal gods, because she lies ill. Lay 
aside your fears, Cerinthus; no god does hurt to lovers. 
Only'love always, and your girl's safety is insured to you. 
Thefe is no need to weep ; it will be a fitter time to use tears 
if ever she becomes a little unkind to you. But now she is 
wholly yours ; the fair girl thinks of you alone, and the cre- 
dulous crowd of suitors beset her doors in vain. Be favour- 
able, Phosbus ; it will be a great renown for thee, in saving 
one to have restored two. Thou wilt be celebrated, thou wilt 
be joyful, when both shall joyfully vie in paying their vows 
an thy holy altar. Then the blessed assembly of the gods 
Will pronounce thee "happy, and each will covet the possession 
of thy arts. '~' 



This day which gave you birth, Cerinthus, is sacred for 
me, and always to be reckoned among festal days. At your 
birth the Fates foretold new servitude for girls, and bestowed 
proud sovereignty on you. I beyond all others am inflamed ; 
and pleased am I, Cerinthus, to be inflamed, if you burn with 
a mutual flame for me. Be it so, I entreat you, by our sweet 
secret blisses, by your eyes, and by your Genius ! ' Divine 
Genius, take graciously the gifts I offer, and favour my vows, 
if only he glows' when he thinks of me. But if haply he now 


siglis for other loves, then, I beseech thee, quit his faithless 
hearth. Nor be thou unjust, Venus ; either let both serve thee, 
bound alike, or take off my bonds. But rather let us both be 
held in a strong chain, which no day to come shall be able to 
break. The youth ' wishes »the same things as I, but wishes 
them more covertly ; for he is ashamed to speak these words 
openly. But thou, O natal god, since thou knowest all, as- 
sent ; what matters it whether he ask in secret or openly ? 



Take, Natal Juno, the sacred tribute of incense which an 
accomplished girl presents with her tender hand. To-day is 
wholly thine ; to-day she has with a heart full of gladness 
adorned herself, that she might stand before thy altar worthy 
to be seen. She ascribes indeed the cause of her adornment 
to the goddess, yet there is one whom in secret she wishes to 
please. But grant thy favour, divine Juno, and let nothing 
part the lovers; but prepare mutual bonds, 1 implore thee, 
for the ' youth. Thus ■^ilt thou well unite them. He can- 
not more worthily serve any girl, nor she any man. Let 
not thp watchful guard be able to detect the longing pair, but 
let L(ive supply a thousand ways of eluding them. Give 
thy asseftat ; "come resplendent in thy purple robe ; thrice, 
chaste goddess; libation is made to thee of wine. The care- 
ful mother prescribes her own wishes to the daughter, but she 
in her secret heart prays for another thing. She burns like 
the swift flames on the allar, nor would she, though she could, 
be cured. Let her be iiear to the youth, and when the next 
year is come, let this love, then mutual and old, assist at her 



The love is come at last, which I glory less in modestly 
concealing, than in openly confessing. Moved by the sup- 
plications of my Muse, Cytherea has brought it, and laid it in 
my bosom. Venus fulfils her promises ; let any one tattle of 
my joys who is known not to have had the favours of bis own 


mistress. I will not commit anything to a sealed letter, that 
none may read me before my own lover ; but I rejoice to have 
sinned ; I loathe to shape my face in deference to public 
opinion ; let it be told of me that I have been with one who 
was worthy of me, and I of him. , 



The unwelcome natal day is come, which must be sadly 
spent in the odious country and without Cerinthus. What is 
sweeter than the city ? Is a villa a fit place for a girl ? And 
the cold Arnus ■ in the Aretine district ? Now stay here, 
Messala, who indeed are too importunately anxious about me, 
and too often ready to take me on an unseasonable journey. 
Carried hence, I leave my soul and my senses behind me, 
since you will not let me exercise my own will. 



Do you know that your girl has put all thoughts of the un- 
welcome journey out of her mind ? We may now remain in 
Eome on her birthday. Let that day be passed by us all as a 
birthday, which now comes to you perhaps unexpectedly. 


I AM glad that you very securely promise yourself that I 
will not in foolish infatuation suddenly fall. If you like the 
harlot with her toga and her basket better than Sulpicia the 
daughter of Servius ; others care for me and regard her with 
anger ; nor will I, who am an object of the greatest interest 
to many, patiently bear to have a low wench preferred to me. 


Do you feel an affectionate concern, Cerinthus, for your 
girl, whose weary frame is now racked by fever ? Ah, 1 can- 


not wish to overcome this painful illness, unless I think that 
you wish it too. For what were I the better for recovering 
from illness, if you can bear my sufferings with easy mind ? 



Light of ray eyes, let me no longer be so fervently loved 
by you as I think I was some days ago, if ever I committed 
a fault in all my foolish youth of which I confess myself more 
penitent, than that I left you alone last night, wishing to dis- 
semble the ardour of my passion. 


No woman shall steal me from your bed ; our compact of 
love was made from the first on this condition. You alone 
charm me, and no girl but you in the whole city is lovely in 
my eyes. And I would that you might seem lovely to me 
alone. ' Be without charms for others ! so shall I be safe. I 
want not to be envied ; away with vulgar notoriety ; let him 
who is wise rejoice in his own silent heart. So may I be 
able to live happily in the sequestered woods, where there is 
no path trodden by human foot. You are rest to my cares ; 
you are my light even in the black night ; you are for me a 
numerous company in lonely' places. ' Were a mistress sent 
down this moment " from heaven to Tibullus, she would be 
sent in vain, and would move no desire.' This I swear to 

' Were a mistress, &c.] Thus smartly imitated by Croxall : 
Were I invited to a nectar feast 
In heaven, and Venus named me for her guest ; 
Though Mercury the messenger should prove, 
Or her own son, the mighty god of love ; 
At the same instant let but honest Tom 
From Sylvia's dear terrestrial lodging come, 
With look important say, " Desires — at three, 
Alone^your company — to drink some tea ;" 
Though Tom were mortal. Mercury divine. 
Though Sylvia gave me water, Venus wine. 
Though heaven was here, and Bow Street lay as far 
As the vast distance of the utmost star ; 
To Sylvia's arms with all my strength I'd fly : 
Let who would meet the Beauty of the sky. 


you by the divinity of your Juno, whom alone I revere before 
the other gods. Fool that I am ! what have I done ? I have- 
given up my securities. How stupid I was to swear ! that 
fear on your part made me safe. . Now you will be bold, now 
you will torture me more daringly. This is the unfortunate 
result of letting my tongue run on. too fast. I will now do 
whatever you please ; I will remain yours for ever, nor seek 
to escape frcim the service of my acknowledged mistress ; but 
I will sit down in bonds before the altar of blessed Venus ; 
she lashes the unjust, and favours suppliants. 


EuMOUB says that my girl often -wrongs me ; now would I 
that my ears were deaf. These charges are not made without 
pain to me. Why dost thou torture me, importunate Ru- 
mour ? Be silent. 


Thee too, Tibullus, an untimely death has sent young to 
the Elysian fields, as a companion to Virgil, that there should 
be none to breathe the tenderness of love in plaintive elegies, 
or to sing of royal wars in heroic measure. 





Mt little volume is complete, 
With all the care and polish neat 

That'makes it fair to see : 
To whom shall I then, to whose praise. 
Inscribe my lively, graceful lays ? 

Cornelius, friend, to thee. 

Thou only of th' Italian race 

Hast dared in three small books to trace 

All time's remotest flight : 
O Jove, how labour'd, learn'd, and wise ! 
Yet still thou ne'er wouldst quite despise 

The trifles that I write. 

Then take the book I now address. 
Though small its size, its merit less, 

'Tis all thy friend can give ; 
And let me, guardian Muse, implore 
That when at least one age is o'er, 

Tliis volume yet may live. Lamb. 



Spaeeow ! my nymph's delicious pleasure ! 

Who with thee, her pretty treasure, 

Fanciful in frolic, plays 

Thousand, thousand wanton ways ; 

And, fluttering, lays to panting rest 

On the soft orbings of her breast ; 

Thy beak with finger-tip incites, 

And dallies with thy becks and bites ; 

When my beauty, my desire. 

Feels her darling whim inspire, 

With nameless triflings, such as these, 

To snatch, I trow, a tiny ease 

For some keen fever of the breast. 

While passion toys itself to rest ; 

I would that happy lady be, 

And so in pastime sport with thee. 

And lighten love's soft agony. 

The sweet resource were bliss untold, 

Dear as that apple of ripe gold. 

Which, by the nimble virgin found, ' 

tJnloos'd the zone that had so fast been bound. 



Dear sparrow, long my fair's delight, 

Which in her breast to lay. 
To give her finger to whose bite. 
Whose puny anger to excite, 

She oft is wont in play. 
For thus, when we are forced to part. 

Her thoughts she from me steals ; 
Thus solaces by sportive art 
The soft regret, the fretful smart, 

I fondly hope she feels. 
Then may not I in absence play, 

As she has play'd with thee ; 
Nor thou, who couldst her grief allay, 
Assuage my pangs when she's away, , 

And bring relief to me. 


Thou wilt be welcome, as 't is known 

Was to tlie nimble maid 
The golden fruit that loosed the zone, 
Her virgin guard, and bade her own 

A lover's warmth repaid. Lamb. 


MouEN, all ye loves and graces ; mourn, 

Te wits, ye gallant, and ye gay ; 
Death from my fair her bird has torn, 

Her much-loved sparrow 's snatch'd away. 

Her very eyes she prized not so. 

For he was fond, and knew my fair 
Well as young girls their mothers know, 

Flew to her breast and nestled there. 

When fluttering round from place to place. 

He gaily chirp'd to her alone ; 
He now that gloomy path must trace, 

Whence Fate permits return to none. 

Accursed shades o'er hell that lower, 

Oh be iny curses on you heard ! 
Ye, that all pretty things devour. 

Have torn from me my pretty bird. 

Oh evil deed ! oh sparrow dead ! 

Oh what a wretch, if thou canst see 
My fair one's eyes with weeping red, 

And know how much she grieves for thee ! ' L*mb. 


Each Love, each Venus, mourn with me ! 

Mourn, every son of gallantry ! 

The sparrow, my own nymph's delight. 

The joy and apple of her sight ; 

The honey-bird, the darling, dies, 

To Lesbia dearer than her eyes. 

As the fair one knew her mother, 

So he knew her from another. 

' The preposterous phrase, " Oh what a wretch," is most unlike the 
original, " O mi'selle passer ! " 


With his gentle lady wrestling ; 

In her snowy bosom nestling ; 

With a flutter, and a bound, 

Quiv'ring round her and around ; 

Chirping, twitt'ring, ever near. 

Notes meant only for her ear. 

Now he skims the shadowy way. 

Whence none return to cheerful day. 

Beshrew the shades ! that thus devour 

All that's pretty in an hour. 

The pretty sparrow thus is dead ; 

The tiny fugitive is fled. 

Deed of spite ! poor bird ! — ah ! see, 

For thy dear sake, alas ! for me ! — 

My nymph with brimful eyes appears 

Eed from the flushing of her tears. Elton. 


That pinnace, friends, can boast that erst 

'Twas swiftest of its kind ; 
Nor swam the bark whose fleetest burst 

It could not leave behind ; 
Whether the toiling rower's force. 
Or swelling sail, impell'd its course. 

This boast, it dares the shores that bound 

The Adrian's stormy space. 
The Cyclad islands sea-girt round, 

Bright Rhodes or rugged Thrace, 
The wide Propontis to gainsay, 
Or still tempestuous Pontic bay. 

There, ere it swam 'mid fleetest prows, 

A grove of spreading trees 
On high Cytorus' hill, its boughs 

Oft whisper'd in the breeze. 
Amastris, pride of Pontic floods, 
Cytorus, green with boxen woods, 


Te knew it then, and all its race, 

And know the pinnace too, 
Which, from its earliest rise, to grace 

Thy lofty summit grew ; 
And in the waves that wash thy shores 
Which moisten'd first its sturdy oars. 

Thence many vainly-raging seas 

It bore its master through ; 
Whether from right or left the breeze 

Upon the canvass blew ; 
Or prosperous to its course the gale 
Spread full and square the straining sail. 

No vows to Ocean's gods it gave, 

For then no storm could shake ; 
When erst from that remotest wave 

It sought this limpid lake : 
But, ah ! those days are fled at length; 
And fled with them are speed and strength. 

Now old, worn out, and lost to fame. 

In rest that's justly due. 
It dedicates this shatter'd frame, 

Ye glorious Twins, to you — 
To you, whose often cheering ray 
Beam'd light and safety on its way. Lamb. 


LoTE, my Lesbia, while we live ; 

Value all the cross advice 
That the surly greybeards give 

At a single farthing's price. 

Suns that set again may rise ; 

We, when once our fleeting light. 
Once our day in darkness dies. 

Sleep in one eternal night. 

Give me kisses thousand-fold. 

Add to them a hundred more ; 
Other thousands still be told 

Other hundreds o'er and o'er. 


But, with thousands when we burn, 

Mix, confuse the sums at last, 
That we may not blushing learn 

All that have between us past. 

None shall know to what amount 

Envy's due for so much bliss ; 
None — for none shall ever count 

All the kisses we will kiss. Lamb. 


Let us, my Lesbia ! live and love ; 
Though the old should disapprove : 
Let us rate their saws severe 
At the worth of a denier. 

Suns can set beneath the main. 
And lift their faded orbs again : 
But we, when sets our scanted light, 
Must slumber in perpetual night. 

Give me, then, a thousand kisses 
Add a hundred billing blisses : 
Give me a thousand kisses more ; 
Then repeat the hundred o'er: 
Give me other thousand kisses 
Give me other hundred blisses ; 
And when thousands now are done, 
Let us confuse them every one : 
That we the number cannot know ; 
And none that saw us kissing so, 
Might glut his envious busy spleen, 
By counting o'er the kisses that had been. Elton 


Ah, Flavius, you would gladly tell 
Catullus, whom you love so well, 

What girl your favourite reigns : 
Nor could your restless tongue forbear 
To speak her name ; unless you wear 

Some jade's disgraceful chains. 


And now you love, I fain must guess, 
Some shameless wanton's coarse caress, . 

Whom you would blush to own : 
For, vainly mute, your couch that smells 
Of flowers and Syrian essence, tells 

You never lie alone. 

Your fragrant room, disorder'd bed, 
And, ah ! 'bove all, your drooping head. 

Your thin and languid frame. 
The fruits of love-sick loose excess, 
Speak what your silence would suppress, 

And all the truth proclaim. 

Oh ! boldly then your flame declare, 
Or false or true, or plain or fair. 

The damsel that you prize : 
My sprightly verse will lend a grace 
To deck your worst amours, and place 

With honour in the skies. Lamb. 


Thy kisses dost thou bid me count, 
And tell thee, Lesbia, what amount 
My rage for love and thee could tire. 
And satisfy and cloy desire ? 

Many as grains of Libyan sand 

Upon Gyrene's spicy land 

From prescient Ammon's sultry dome 

To sacred Battus' ancient tomb : 

Many as stars that silent ken 

At night the stolen loves of men. 

Yes, when the kisses thou shalt kiss 

Have reach'd a number vast as this, 

Then may desire at length be stay'd. 

And e'en my madness be allay'd : 

Then when infinity defies 

The calculations of the wise ; 

Nor evil voice's deadly charm 

Can work the unknown number harm. Lamb. 



As many stellar eyes of light, 

As through the silent waste of night, 

Gazing upon the world of shade. 

Witness some secret youth and maid, 

Who fair as thou and fond as I, 

In stolen joys enamour'd lie ! 

So many kisses, ere I slumber, 

Upon those dew-bright lips I'll number ; 

So many vermil, honied kisses, 

Envy can never count our blisses : 

No tongue shall tell the sum, but mine ; 

No lips shall fascinate but thine ! Moobe. 


ON lesbia's inconstancy. 

Cease from this idle fooling trade — 
Cease, wretch Catullus, all is o'er; 

And what thou seest has long decay'd. 
E'en think it lost for evermore. 

Of old thy suns were bright and clear, 
When thou, where'er her path has lain, 

Wouldst chase the damsel, loved so dear 
As none will e'er be loved again. 

Then were the sports of amorous jest 
Still urged by thee with new delight ; 

While she scarce chid and not repress'd — 
Oh then thy suns were truly bright ! 

She now rejects thee — cast her off. 
Nor weakly chase a flying fair ; 

Nor grieving live to be her scoff, 
But coldly steel thy mind to bear. 

Damsel, farewell ! Catullus stern 

Thy scorn disdains, thy love will shun ; 

And soon thy pride to grief shall turn, 
When left by him, and woo'd by none. 


Think, wanton, what remains for thee : 

Who will pursue thy lonely way ? 
"Who in thy form will beauty see ? 

Whose fervent love shalt thou repay ? 

Whose fondling care shalt thou avow ? 

Whose kisses now shalt thou return ? 
Whose lip in rapture bite ? — But thou — 

Hold ! hold ! Catullus, cold and stern. Lasib, 


Cease the sighing fool to play ; 
Cease, to trifle life away j 
Nor vainly think those joys thine own, 
Which all, alas, have falsely flown. 
What hours, Catullus, once were thine. 
How fairly seem'd thy day to shine. 
When lightly thou didst fly to meet 
The girl whose smUe was then so sweet — 
The girl thou lov'dst with fonder pain 
Than e'er thy heart can feel again. 

Ye met — your souls seem'd all in one. 
Like tapers that commingling shone ; 
Thy heart was warm enough for both, 
And hers in truth was nothing loth. 

Such were the hours that once were thine ; 
But, ah ! those hours no longer shine. 
For now the nymph delights no more 
In what she loved so much before ; 
And all Catullus now can do. 
Is to be proud and frigid too ; 
Nor follow where the wanton flies, 
Nor sue the bliss that she denies. 
False maid ! he bids farewell to thee, 
To love, and all love's misery'; 
The hey-day of his heart is o'er, 
Nor will he court one favour more. 

Fly, perjured girl ! — ^but whither fly ? 
Who now will praise thy cheek and eye ? 


Who now will drink the syren tone, 

Which tells him thou art all his own ? 

Oh, none : — and he who loved hefore 

Can nSver, never love thee more. Mooke. 


Catullus ! give thy follies o'er : 

Ah ! wretch ! what's lost expect no more: 

Thy suns shone bright, when to and fro 

Thou, at her beck, didst come and go : 

The nymph who once thy passion proved 

As never nymph shall e'er be loved. 

What frolic joys would then enchant. 

When thou wouldst ask and she would grant ! 

Then clear and bright thy suns would shine : 

And doth she now thy love decline ? 

Then be alike refusal thine. 

Follow not her, who flies from thee ; 

Nor wretched in despondence be. 

But scorn the weakness that can feel. 

And bear thy grief with breast of steel. 

Farewell, O girl ! whom I adore ! 

Catullus now laments no more : 

Firm he persists : he will not woo, 

Nor for unwilling favours sue. 

Yet wilt thou grieve, when ask'd by none, 

Think, cruel ! how thy days will run ! 

Who to thy side shall now repair ? 

In whose fond eyes shalt thou be fair ? 

Whom wilt thou for thy lover choose ? 

Whose shall they call thee ? false one ! whose ? 

Who shall thy darted kisses sip. 

While thy keen love-bites scar his lip ? 

But thou, Catullus ! scorn to feel : 

Persist — and let thy heart be steel. Elton. 



Op all the many loved by me, 
Of all my friends most dear, 
Verannius, is thy travel o'er, 
And art thou home return'd once more 
To light thy brother's smile of glee, 
Thy mother's age to cheer ? 

Thou'rt come. Oh blissful, blessed news ! — 
Thou'rt come, and I again 

Shall see and hear thee, in the way 
I loved in former time, portray 
The splendid towns, the mountain views, 
The tribes, and deeds of Spain. 

I warm shall press thee to my breast. 
Where fervent welcomes burn. 

What mortal, though he dare to think 
Of pleasure he may largely drink, 
Is half so joyful, or so blest, 

As I in his return ? Lamb. 


As I was idling time away 
Just by the Forum t'other day, 

My Yarns took me thence 
To see the wanton, his dehght ; 
And, faith ! she struck me at first sight 

To want nor charms nor sense. 

We then fell into conversation 
About Bithynia's situation. 

The value of the land. 
And what my profit there had been : 
I mention'd truly all I'd seen, 

And how things really stand. 
N 2 


" That not the Pretor nor his train 
Could there afford from any gain 

More sumptuous dress or fare ; 
And sure not we, that Prater's slaves, 
The worst of profligates and knaves, 

Who prized us not a hair." 
" Of course," she said, " as they relate 
'Tis usual, you some slaves for state 

To bear your litter bought." 
I felt a little pride arise ; 
And was not willing in her eyes 

To be 3, pauper thought. 
So cried, " Oh, yes. Though luck was bad. 
It was not on the whole so sad. 

That I eight slaves should lack." 
In truth, I never here nor there 
Possess'd a single slave to bear 

My litter on his back. 
Said she, a harlot thorough-bred ! 
" Catullus, lend me, pray, that bed, 

I wish but to be taken 

To where Serapis holds his fane " 

" Stay ! stay !" said I, " let's think again — 

I 've none — I was mistaken. 

" 'Tis Cinna's bed, scarce his alone, 
I use it just as 'twere my own : 

Who's owner nought care I. 
Thou'rt an uncivil, troublous jade, 
Whose artful, mercenary trade 

Won't let one tell a lie." Lamb. 


Companions, who would gladly go 
With me through every toil below 

To man's remotest seats : 
Whether Catullus should explore 
Far India, on whose echoing shore 

The eastern billow beats : 


"Whether he seek Hyrcania wild, 
The Tartar hordes, or Arabs mild, 

Or Parthia's archer train : 
Or tread that intersected isle, 
Whence pouring forth the sev'n-fold Nile 

Discolours all the main. 

Whether across the Alps he toil. 
To view the war-ennobled soil 

Where Caesar's trophies stand ; 
The Ehine that saw its Graul's disgrace, 
Or dare the painted Briton race 

In their extremest land. 

Companions dear, prepared to wend 
Where'er the gods may place your friend. 

And every lot to share ; 
A few unwelcome words receive. 
And to that once-loved fair I leave 

My latest message bear. 

Still let her live and still be blest. 
By profligates in hundreds prest. 

Still sport in ease and wealth ; 
Still of those hundreds love not one, 
Still cast off each by turns undone 

In fortune and in health. 

But let her deem my passion o'er : 

Her guilt has crush'd, to bloom no more, 

The love her beauty raised ; 
As droops the flower, the meadow's pride, 
Which springing by the furrow's side 

The passing share has grazed. Lamb. 


CoMKADES and friends, with whom where'er 
The Fates have will'd through life I've roved, 

Now speed ye home, and with you bear 
These bitter words to her I've loved. 


Tell her from fool to fool to run, 
Where'er her vain caprice may call ; 

Of all her dupes, not loving one, 
But ruining and maddening all. 

Bid her forget — ^what now is past — 
Our once dear love, whose ruin lies 

Like a fair flower, the meadow's last. 

That feels the ploughshare's edge, and dies. 



AsiNius, Marrucinian vile. 

Think you, when wine gives hfe to jest, 
'Tis wit to filch with left-hand wile 

The napkin of the careless guest ? 

Poor idiot, can you not perceive 

How rude, how low the deed you do ? 

But should you not my words believe, 
Tour brother, Polho, says so too. 

Pollio with, hoards of gold would part 
No more to see you thus disgraced ; 

For that's a youth of generous heart. 
Of Hvely wit, and purest taste. 

Expect a satire coarse and keen. 
Or back to me your plunder send ; 

'Tis not its value moves my spleen. 
But it's the keepsake of a friend. 

A dearest friend from Spanish skies 
Sent me the gift you stole so sly ; 

And when the giver's love I prize, 

I prize his smallest gift as high. Lamb. 


Pabullus, thou shalt be my guest 
At supper soon, if Heaven's behest 
No otherwise decree : 


The feast too must be rich, and rare, 
And since thou lov'st luxurious fare, 
Bring such a feast with thee. 

And bring the girl with breast of snow, 
And wine and wit of ready flow, 

And laughter's joyous peal ; 
Bid but all these my board attend. 
And then no doubt, my gallant friend, 

We'U have a glorious meal. 

For in my coffers spiders weave 
Their webs in peace : so thou receive 

For all thy kind expense 
My lays, of love alone that sing, 
Or aught, if aught thy friend can bring. 

To please some finer sense. 

And I can give thee essence rare 
That Loves and Graces gave my fair : 

So sweet its odour flows ; 
Thou 'It pray the gods " may touch and taste 
Be quite in smell alone effaced, 

And I become all nose." Lamb. 



Did I not dearer than my eyes 
Your friendship, lively Calvus, prize. 
With flercer hate I should regard you. 
Than e'en Vatinius feels toward you. 

For what can I have ever done. 
Or ever said in spite or fun. 
That you my leisure hours should curse 
With such a heap of wretched verse ? 
Gods, on that client curses send, 
Who gave these poems to my friend ! 
Yet, if the gift so choice and pleasant 
Was that poor pedant Sulla's present, 
I'm glad, your legal toil to aid. 
So vile a wretch is thus repaid. 


Great gods ! — I cannbt calmly- look 
Upon tiie dreadful cursed book, 
Which cruel Calvus yet could send 
Catullus, whom he calls his friend. 
I bore from morn till day was flying, 
The torments of protracted dying ; 
E'en while the Saturnalia gay 
Eejoiced the year's most festive day. 

But, wag, you shall not 'scape me so ; 
With earliest sunrise will I go 
Eound every library and stall, 
Collect Suffenus' works, and all 
That e'er that crew of viler note, 
The Cesii and Aquinii wrote ; 
All foolish odes, and poisonous trash, 
And dull bombast and balderdash; 
And send them, to repay to thee 
The torments thou hast heap'd on me. 

For you, ye scribblers, hence ! I spurn you ; 
Again to that same place return ye 
Whence ye began your cursed journey. 
Avaunt, our age's worst disasters ! 
Avaunt, ye wretched poetasters { Lamb. 


Myself and my best loves to thee, 
'Tis a small boon of modesty, 

Aurelius, I commend ; 
Then spare, although thy pamper'd taste 
May long for what is fresh and chaste, 

The favourite of thy friend. 

I mean not from the harmless throng, 
Who busy walk the streets along, 

Intent on sordid pelf. 
But from thy passion's rampant rage. 
That dares both old and young engage, 

From thy lascivious self. 


Let this one single instance be 
Of thy surprising chastity ; — 

When gone, indulge thy flame ; 
But should thy lustful heat now dare 
To wound me where I least can bear, 

And clothe my head with shame ; 

Soon may the punishment, prepared 
For such oifence, be thy reward ; 

Exposed to public view. 
Oh may thy legs be fitly tied. 
Radish and mullets then applied 

Inflict the torture due ! , Nott. 


And dare ye, profligates, arraign 
The ardour of my sprightly strain, 

And e'en myself asperse ? 
And, if his lines are gay and free. 
Deem ye the poet's self must be 

As wanton as his verse ? 

The sacred bard, to Muses dear, 
Himself should pass a chaste career. 

And pure his blood should roll: 
But let his numbers warmly flow. 
And paint in all their native glow 

The passions of the soul. 

His verse should be of power to move 
Not only fervent boys with love, 

Aijd feed the blazing flame ; 
But torpid age should feel the strain 
Raise every youthful heat again. 

And nerve the feeblest frame. 

No more, ye rakes, peruse my line : 
By minds debauch'd and base as thine 
It scarce is understood. 


It sings of wine, of woman's charms, 
Of love, of all that cheers and warms 
The generous and the good. 

But ye, on whom no fair one smiles. 
Whose hours no social board beguiles, 

I scorn your blame or praise. 
Whom love and favouring woman bless, 
Who taste the raptures they express, 

Will never blame my lays. Lamb. 


Thou lively town, that wouldst with gladness see 
On thy long bridge the sports of rustic glee, 

And nimble dancers bounding to the strain. 
Didst thou not fear the rotten props would throw 
Thy tottering bridge into the marsh below. 

Ne'er from its muddy bed to rise again ; 

One boon, one sight, to raise my laughter, grant ; 
And may a bridge so strong supply thy want, 

That the wild Salii's dance can nothing hurt. 
I ask that one, a townsman of thine own, 
May only from thy bridge be headlong thrown. 

And neck and shoulders plump into the dirt. 

It should be there, where lies the deepest mud, 
And greenest mire of all the stagnant flood. 

The man's a senseless dolt, whom nought can warm. 
His wit or sense no rivalry can hold 
With any boy, who is but two years old, 

And rock'd to sleep upon his father's arm. 

His wife 's a girl in blooming beauty's dawn. 
More soft and tender than the youngling fawn ; 

Like ripest grapes demanding gentlest care. 
He lets her rove uncheck'd her giddy way. 
Where'er, with whom she lists, to jest and pla/, 

Nor values all her charms a single hair. 


Life, for his only care himself, he keeps. 
Dull as the axe-fell'd alder tree, that sleeps 

In some remote Ligurian ditch confined : 
He scarcely seems to. know he has a wife ; 
And dozes on his lethargy of life 

Deaf to her accents, to her beauty blind. 

E'en while he breathes, while strong his life-blood flows, 
Whether he lives or not he scarcely knows. 

Oh, let him from thy bridge be headlong cast, 
Plunged deep with all his stupor in the flood j 
And his dull soul in the congenial mud, 

Like the mule's iron shoe, leave sticking fast ! Lamb. 


To thee I dedicate this green retreat ; 

Priapus, sacred be the shade to thee : 
Whether some grove, or Lampsacus thy seat, 

Detains thy steps, sylvan deity ! 
Thou who in towns that deck the shelly coast 
Of much-famed Hellespont art wcjrshipp'd most. Nott. 


This farm, young passengers, these marshy meads, 
This cottage thatch'd with sedge and matted reeds, 
Hewn from the season'd oak by rustic skill, 
I long have nursed, and am their guardian still. 

Years stiU succeeding by my influence bear 
Some wealth, some added blessing to my care. 
For sire and sons, who live and prosper here. 
Worship my name, and as their god revere. 
The grateful sire is careful to erase 
Moss and rough brambles round my altar's base. 
The gifts are small that childish hands impart. 
But gain their value from the giver's heart ; 
A crown of flowers, the earhest of the year. 
And the green corn's yet moist and tender ear. 
Eound me the purple violets are pour'd ; 
The poppy's crimson flower, the pallid gourd, 


The fragrant apple, are as offerings paid, 
And grapes that ripen in the vineyard's shade. 
Oft bearded goats (but tell it not again.) 
And their hoof 'd ewes with blood my altar stain. 

For all these honours, fix'd upon this spot, 
I guard my master's vines and humble cot. 
Then, boys, refrain from theft, nor pilfer here ; 
Eich is our neighbour, and his garden's near: 
There a small loss Priapus little heeds ; 
There's plenteous spoil. This pathway thither leads. 


xx. the garden god's threat. 

Form'd from the season'd poplar's heart 

By the unskilful rustic's art, 

From every foe and danger free, 

I guard the little spot you see ; 

And save from theft and rapine's hand 

My humble master's cot and land. 

To me the flowery chaplet. Spring ; 
The deep brown ear doth Summer bring ; 
Autumn the luscious grape bestows ; 
The pale-green olive, Winter snows. 
The she-goat bears from my rich down 
Dugs swoll'n with milk to yonder town. 
The lamb that's fatten'd in my fold 
Sends back its owner chinking gold. 
The tender heifer hence that goes, 
While here the frantic mother lows, 
Oft pours its gushing blood to stain 
The threshold of the richest fane. 

Then, trav'Uer, view this god with fear. 
And check all thirst for plunder here. 
'Twere well thou didst ; for I can be 
Quick means of punishment to thee. 
Say'st thou, " Come on," and scorn'st advice ? 
Behold the cotter in a trice ; 
And, if he please thy sides to drub, 
Myself will serve him for a club. Lamb. 



AuEBLius, father of the treat, 
Where hunger finds not aught to eat ; 
Such fasting treats were ne'er of yore, 
Nor are, nor ever will be more ; 
Thy lustful thoughts too freely rove, 
Fain wouldst thou tempt my pretty love. 
Nor mak'st a secret of the thing. 
But to my chaxmer's side dost cUng ; 
Dost boldly, impudently toy, 
And every wanton art employ ; 
Yet vain shall prove thy base intent. 
For e'en my guilt should thine prevent : 
Wert thou high fed, all this I 'd bear ; 
But that the one I hold most dear 
Should learn to hunger and to thirst. 
So moves my choler that 'twill burst. 
Then hold, while thou canst honest be ; 
If not, I '11 do a deed for thee. Nott. 


Vaeeus, you well SufFenus know. 
The wit, the scholar, and the beau. 
Alas ! he also makes at times 
A fearful quantity of rhymes. 
I think a thousand lines, ay ten. 
Or more, have issued from his pen. 
Not written upon foolscap base. 
To blot, and alter, and erase ; 
On royal paper smooth and fine 
He pens at once the perfect line ; 
With edges gilt, and binding new, 
And silver clasp; and silken clew, 
Its shape by rule exactly right, 
And all with highest polish bright. 

But, if his verses are but read. 
The wit's, the scholar's fame is fled. 

190 Catullus. 

The veriest oaf, the dullest proser, 
Must seem more bright than the composer : 
Such different lights to those will show him 
Who see himself, or read his poem. 

What title can this creature fit, 
Who now appears a very wit. 
Or aught, if ever aught arises, 
Society more seeks and prizes ; 
But, when to verse he turns his mind, 
Is duller than the dullest hind ; 
Yet, ah ! for ever spends his time 
In toil to build the lofty rhyme ? 
He 's ne'er so truly blest, as when 
He uses his poetic pen ; 
So high he rates his wit, and ever 
Wonders to find himself so clever. 

Yet we are all, I doubt, in truth 

Deceived like this complacent youth ; 

All, I am much afraid, demean us 

In some one thing just like Sufienus. 

For stiU to every man that lives 

His share of errors nature gives ; 

But they, as 'tis in fable sung, 

Are in a bag behind us hung ; 

And our formation kindly lacks 

The power to see behind our backs. Lamb. 


Varrus, that wretch Sufienus, whom you know 

Is handsome, talkative, and is a beau ; 

What's more, the coxcomb makes pretence to wit. 

And verses has incontinently writ. 

So great his stock of rhymes, so large his store. 

He has at least ten thousand lines or more, 

All written out so curious and so clean. 

That common writing paper's thought too mean. 

His paper's royal, and his books are new, 

With silver bosses tempting to the view, 

Tied up with ribbons of the deepest red, [lead. 

Each page with pumice smooth'd, and ruled with crimson 


But read him, and tljis fop so neat and nice 

Is changed into a sloven in a trice. 

Suffenus— Oh ! the foolish scribbling dotard 

In's writings seems a ditcher or a goatherd ; 

So much he 's altered from the man he was. 

How can this be ? and what can be the cause ? 

Yet he that but just now in others' sense 

Was destitute of every excellence, 

Was made the common jest of all the town, 

And thought much more unlearned than a clown, 

Is wise, and to perfection, in his own. 

When he puts pen to paper and indites, 

No man so blest as he in what he writes. 

He joys so much, and wonders at his skUl, 

As if the Muses had inspired his quill. 

No wonder ; all are subject to mistakes ; 

None but in something a SuiFenus makes. 

Our neighbour's bunch upon his back is known. 

But we forget what rises from our own. Anon. 


FuRius, thy life no servants tease. 

No chests of gold with watchings tire ; 
No downy bed to harbour fleas. 

No blazing hearth thy house to fire. 

Thou feed'st thy father and his wife. 

Whose sharp-set teeth on flints could browse. 

How blest must be your careless life 
With him, and his old wooden spouse ! 

Oh truly blest ! — ye keep your health. 

Digest your food with ease ; nor dread 
Nor fire, nor ruin's curse, nor stealth. 

Plunder, nor poison in your bread. 

Ye all the ills and dangers scorn. 

The fear of which makes many sigh'; 
Your bodies drier are than Horn, 

Or aught, if there is aught more dry. 


Still warm'd by Summer's burning rays, 
Or cool'd in Winter's snowy vest, 

Physick'd by famine, can your days 
Be otherwise than truly blest ? 

All fears of plethora ye may spurn, 
And gout's and fever's anguish keen. 

When others swell, and throb, and burn. 
Ye still continue cool and clean. 

Furius, no more these gifts disdain. 
Nor rate thein small, nor e'er infest 

The gods with prayers for wealth again ; 
For really thou art very blest. Lamb. 


Nob menial slave, nor coffer strong. 
Nor blazing hearth to thee belong ; 
Nor e'en a spider, nor a louse, 
Can live within thy famish'd house : 
Yet does my Furius to his cost 
A father and a step-dame boast ; 
So hungry, so extremely thin. 
Their teeth a very flint would skin ; 
And such thy sire, so lean his wife. 
You needs must lead a pleasant life : 
What wonder ? when, beyond a question. 
You all are blest with good digestion ; 
Have nought to fear, nor fire, nor losses. 
Nor impious deeds, nor poisonous doses ; 
Nor all the dangers which await 
The wretchedness of human state. 
Your harden'd bodies drier are 
Than horn, or aught that 's diier far ; 
And nursed by hunger, cold, and heat. 
How can your bliss but be complete ? 
From you no sweat, no spittle flows ; 
No rheum, no snivel from your nose : 
Besides, one cleanliness superior 
To all you boast, that your posterior 
Is so exceedir(g trim and sweet, 
A salt-cellar's not half so neat: 


Scarce ten times in a year you vent 
Your indurated excrement ; 
So indurated ne'er was known 
Or slirivell'd bean, or hardest stone ; 
Which, rubb'd, and crumbled o'er and o'er, 
Would leave the finger as before. 
Then hold not cheap, nor yet despise 
Blessings, my Furius, you should prize ; 
Nor, as you 're wont, ask more of heaven. 
To thee enough's already given ! Nott. 


Deak boy, of thy race thou 'rt the blossom and pride ; 

Not only of all who these days may adorn. 
But all who through ages long distant have died. 

And of all who shall ever hereafter be born. 

With a wretch, who commands neither servant nor purse, 
Wilt thou then thus warmly in friendship combine ? 

Oh ! rather than thee his affection should curse, 
I would almost have made him a crony of mine. 

" He's a gallant," thou say'st. May be so ; still 'tis pliun 
This gallant nor slave has, nor cash at command ; 

And, whate'er thou may'st deem him, the world wUl disdain, 
Till a slave 's at his heels, or a purse in his hand. 



LOVELIEST of Juventian bloom ! 
Thou bud with early beauty graced ! 

Unequall'd by the age to come, 
Or by the present or the past ! 

Oh hadst thou given but paltry pelf 
To him who wants both slave and chest, 

1 had not grieved ! — But that thyself 
By yon lewd wretch should be possest ! 


Ton '11 cry, " He 's handsome !" — so he may ; 

StiU that he 's poor you needs must grant : 
Eeject, extenuate all I say ; 

Both slave and chest he 's doom'd to want ! Nott. 


Voluptuous Thallus ! soft, I own. 
As rabbit's fur, as cygnet's down ; 
Soft as the tip of softest ear ; 
As flimsy age, or spider's silken snare ! 

Yet more rapacious than the sea, 
Which vext with storms sweeps all away ; 
Whilst boding birds, with dismal cry, 
O'er the tempestuous, wintry billows fly. 

My cloak thou shalt return, I vow. 
My fine Setabian napkin too ; 
My tablets from the Thynian coast ; 
All which as lineal wealth, vain fool, you boast ! 

Unglue thy hands, my things restore ! 
Lest thy soft breech and sides made sore 
With Tinaccustom'd stripes, you rave, 
Lash'd like some skiff that dares wild ocean's wave. 




Tht villa, Furius, is not placed 

The southern gales to bear ; 
Nor north, nor east, nor west is faced, 

But screen'd from every air. 

But, oh ! 'tis out at mortgage placed, 

'Gainst sums thou can'tst repay ; 
And that 's of all the likeliest blast 

To sweep it quite away. Lamb. 


BOT, who in my festive home 
Mak'st the rich Falernian foam, 


Broach my oldest wine, and pour 
Till the goblet mantles o'er. 
Gay Postumia thus ordains, 
When she at my banquet reigns. 
Not the juice that swells its shape 
Is so native to the grape, 
As the draught that fills the bowl 
Is congenial to her soul. 

Hence, ye waters ! hence abstain, 

Generous liquor's chilly bane ! 

Hence, where'er it please you, flow ! 

Hence, to surly wisdom go ! 

Pure this draught as from the vine 

Bacchus' self had press'd the wine. Lamb. 


Well, friends, who big with hopes of gain, 
Have follow'd Piso into Spain, 
Your luggage is compact and tight. 
And as it went of carriage light. 
Verannius, friend, Fabullus, say. 
What wealth ye gather'd in your way ? 

Did ye in that curmudgeon's suite 
Enough of cold and hunger meet ; 
And do now your accounts contain 
Expenses in the place of gain, 
Like me, who from my Pretor's tour 
Game, 'stead of richer, much more poor ? 

Ah, Memmius ! ill your train you treated, 
And all the time abused and cheated : 
And now, for aU that I can view, 
It's just the same with both of you. 
Ye, by your scoundrel trick'd, repine ; 
Your scoundrel is as great as mine. 

Now speed, thou fool, whoe'er intends 
To thrive by courting noble friends ; 


And every evil man can know- 
May gods and goddesses bestow 
On you, ye Pretors, who disgrace 
The Roman name and Roman race. Lamb. 


Who can behold, or who endure ; 

Save rakes devoid of truth and shame, 
Or gambling cheats, or gluttons tame ; 
That base Mamurra should procure 
And squander free the spoil and products all 
Of farthest Britain's isle, and rich Transalpine Gaul ? 

Miscreant Romulus, canst thou see. 

And suffer this ? — Then thine the shame, 
The rake's, the cheat's, the glutton's name. 
Soon proud and all-abounding he 
Through all our marriage beds shall wanton rove, 
Gay as Adonis young, or Venus' snowy dove. 

Canst thou still see and bear this thing. 
Miscreant Romulus ? — Thine the shame. 
The rake's, the cheat's, the glutton's name. 
And for this name, unrivall'd king. 
Proud didst thou bear afar thy conquering crest. 
E'en to the farthest isle that gems the distant West, 

That he, thy lustful friend, should prey 

' On all the spoil, thy valour's prize ? 
" What matters it ? " thy bounty cries, 

" A little wealth he throws away." 
And has he then but little wealth devour'd ? 
First he his father's hoards on low companions shower'd ; 

Then by the spoil of Pontus fed. 
And then by all Iberia gave. 
And Tagus from its golden wave. 
Him justly Gaul and Britain dread. 
Justly his grasping S\vay may cause alarms 
More than his emperor's name and all-victorious arms. 


Oh ! why so base a favourite choose, 
Who has nor wit, nor use, nor power, 
Save all thy riches to devour ? 
Didst thou, son-in-law ! then lose, 
Didst thou, conquering father ! then obtain 
The empire of the world to be this minion's gain ? Lamb. 


Forgetful, false to those who love thee best, 
Alphenus, can no kindness from thy breast 

E'en I, thy loved companion, know ? 
No pitying pause, no doubts relenting stay 
Thy reckless course, still eager to betray 

With equal falsehood friend or foe. 

Yet faithless deeds the lords of heaven offend ; 
Though thou regardless canst behold thy friend 

By anguish and despair opprest. 
All trust is past, let man of man beware. 
Thou, who by show of faith and friendliest care 

Hadst made me open all my breast, 

Changed from thyself, now bid'st the roving air 
Thine oaths, thy pledges, far from memory bear, 

And scatter in the tempest's course. 
The gods, though thou forgett'st, remember all. 
And outraged faith will to thy breast recall 

Thy perjury, and its due remorse. Lamb. 


SiEMio, of all the shores the gem, 

The isles where circling Neptune strays ; 
Whether the vast and boisterous main 
Or lake's more limpid waves they stem. 
How gladly on thy lands I gaze ! 
How blest to visit thee again ! 

I scarce believe, while rapt I stand. 
That I have left the Thynian fields, 
And all-Bithynia far behind, 


And safely view my favourite land. 
Oh bliss, v?hen care dispersing yields 
To full repose the placid mind ! 

Then when the mind its load lays down ; 
When we regain, all hazards past. 
And with long ceaseless travel tired. 
Our household god again our own ; 
And press in tranquil sleep at last 
The well-known bed so oft desired — 

This can alone atonement make 

For every toil. Hail, Sirmio sweet ! 
Be gay, thy lord hath ceased to roam ! 
Ye laughing waves of Lydia's lake. 
Smile all around ! Thy master greet 
With all thy smiles, my pleasant home ! Lamb. 


SiEJiio ! the lovely eye of every isle 
And green peninsula, where'er they smile ; 
Whether the fresh or briny wave surround, 
The floating lake, or ocean's blue profound ; 
With what a joyous willingness of mind 
I thee revisit, leaving far behind, 
Still half incredulous, Bithynia's plain. 
And gaze in safety on thy scenes again ! 
Oh ! what more blissful than to loose the breast 
From cares, and bid the unburden'd spirit rest ? 
Sit by our home fire-side ; forget the toil 
Of weary wanderings on a foreign soil ; 
And on the long'd-for bed sink down at last 
In full-felt ease ; o'erpaid for hai'dships past ! 
Hail, pleasant Sirmio ! for thy master's sake 
Rejoice ! ye waters of the Lydian lake, 
Brighten in joy I and each remember'd thing. 
That laughs of home, shall smile my welcoming ! 



Sweet Sirmio ! thou the very eye 
Of all peninsulas and isles, ' 


That in our lakes of silver lie, 

Or sleep, enwreath'd by Neptune's smiles — 

How gladly back to thee I tiy ! 

Still doubting, asking — can it be 
That I have left Bithynia's sky. 

And gaze in safety upon thee ? 

Oh ! what is happier than to find 

Our hearts at ease, our perils past ; 
When, anxious long, the lighten'd mind 

Lays down its load of care at last. 

When tired with toil o'er land and deep, 

Again we tread the welcome floor 
Of our own home, and sink to sleep 

On the long-wish'd-for bed once more. 

This, this it is, that pays alone 

The ills of all life's former track. — 
Shine out, my beautiful, my own 

Sweet Sirmio, greet thy master back. 

And thou, fair Lake, whose water quaffs 

The light of heaven like Lydia's sea. 
Rejoice, rejoice — let all that laughs 

Abroad; at home, laugh out for me ! Mooee. 


O BEST of all the scatter'd spots that lie 

In sea or lake, — apple of landscape's eye, — 

How gladly do I drop within thy nest. 

With what a sigh of full, contented rest. 

Scarce able to believe my journey's o'er. 

And that these eyes behold thee safe once more ! 

Oh where 's the luxury like the smUe at heart, 

When the mind breathing, lays its load apart, — 

When we come home again, tired out, and spread 

The loosen'd limbs o'er all the wish'd-for bed ! 

This, this alone is worth an age of toil. 

Hail, lovely Sirmio ! HaU, paternal soil ! 

Joy, my bright waters, joy ; your master 's come ! 

Laugh every dimple on the cheek of home ! 

Leigh, Hunt. 

200 C4.TtILI,US. 


Kind of heart, of beauty bright, 
Pleasure's soul, and love's delight, 
None by nature graced above thee, 
Hypsithilla, let me love thee. 

Tell me then, that I shall be 
Welcome when I come to thee ; 
And at noon's inspiring tide 
Close thy gate to all beside. 
Let no idle wish to roam 
Steal thy thought from joys at home ; 
But prepare thy charms to aid 
Every frolic love e'er play'd. 
Speed thy message. Day goes fast. 
Now's the hour ; the banquet's past : 
Mid-day suns and goblets flowing 
Set my frame with passion glowing. 

Speed thee, wanton, fair and free ! 
Tell me I must haste to thee. Lamb. 


Mt Hypsithilla, charming fair, 
My life, my soul, ah ! hear my prayer: 
Thy grateful summons quickly send, 
And bless at noon, with joy, thy friend. 
And if my fair one will comply. 
And not her sighing swain deny, 
Take care the door be then unbarr'd, 
And let no spy be on the guard. 
And thou, the aim of my desire. 
Attend at home my amorous fire. 
Prepare thy bosom to receive 
All that so much love can give : 
Prepare to meet repeated joy. 
Continued bliss without alloy ; 
Dissolving still in thy dear arms, 
Still raised by thy reviving charms, 


To onsets fresh of sprightly pleasure. 
Tumultuous joy beyond all measure. 
But dally not with my desire, 
Nor quash with thy delays my fire. 
Bursting with love upon my couch I lie, 
Forestalling with desire the distant joy. Anon- 


Old Vibennius of all the bath thieves thou first thief ! 

Of all monsters in lust, young Vibennius thou chief! 

This is gifted with hands which are ever rapacious, 

That is gifted with parts which are full as voracious ; 

Then, oh why don't ye both into banishment go. 

And deservedly wander in deserts of woe ? 

Not a soul but the father's mean rapines must tell ; 

And thou, son, ca?ist no more thy stale infamy sell. Nott. 


ViEGiNs fair, and boys yet chaste. 

We Diana's service bear ; 
Raise her votive chorus, haste, 

Spotless youths and virgins fair ! 

Mighty child of mightiest Jove, 

Thee, Latona, we adore ; 
In the Delian olive grove 

Thee thy beauteous mother bore. 

Born to be the sacred queen 

Of the mountain and the wood, 
Of the valley's placid scene, 

Of the river's echoing flood. 

Soothing woman's labourihg throe. 

Goddess, thou Lucina hight ; 
Thee, we powerful Trivia know, 

Luna, thee, with borrow'd light. 

By thy monthly rise and wane 

Still th' apportion'd year is sped ; 
Still thy power with fruits and grain 

Stores the peasant's homely shed. 


Be thou, hy whatever name 

Please thee, sacred ; and embrace 

Still with guardian care the same 
Ancient Rome's heroic race. Lamb. 


Go, paper, to Cecilius say, 

To him I love, the bard whose lay 

The sweetest thoughts attend ; 
Say, he must quit his loved retreat, 
Comum and Larius' lake, to greet 

Verona and liis friend. 

Here let him some advice receive, 
A friend of his and mine will give. 

If wise, he'll speed his way ; 
Although the fair his haste may check 
A thousand times, and on his neck 

May hang, and beg his stay. 

For, when of old she read his strains 
To her on Dindymus who reigns. 

Did raging passion seize 
On all her heart ; and since that day 
She idly wears his youth away 

In love and slothful ease. 

Tet thee, fair girl, I not abuse, 
More learned than the Sapphic Muse, 

And warm with all her fire ; 
For, ah ! so soft, so sweetly flow'd 
His melting strains, his tender ode. 

They well might love inspire. Lamb. 


VoLusius' Annals — worthless lay ! 

E'en than thy writer's self more stupid ; 
Tis thou, my damsel's vow must pay 

To sacred Venus, and to Cupid. 


She vow'd, that, should my soften'd heart 

Be reconciled to her again ; 
And at her I should cease to dart 

My cross and keen Iambic strain ; 

That she would give to him, the lame 
Grim god, whom yet Jove's anger curses, 

To be consumed by evil flame, 

The chosen worst of all bad verses. 

No fruitful tree must form the pyre. 

Which heaven protects and man loves well ; 

lU-omen'd wood shall feed the fire. 
Dear only to the gods of hell. 

Thou art the poem, all declare, 

Fore-destined by her frolic oath ; 
Then, oh, thou goddess bright and fair, 

Form'd of the azure ocean's froth ; 

Groddess of Syria's open meads, 

, Of sacred woods, Idalia's boast, 
Cnidus, where grow the poet's reeds, 

Amathus, and Ancona's coast. 

Of Golgos, and Dyrrachium's port, 

The market of the Adrian main ; 
Accept the vow, nor deem our sport 

That taste should shun, or wit disdain. 

Then come, ye pointless, rugged lays. 

Into the fire ; 'tis there you're due. 
Then, whether Venus blame or praise. 

We shall at least get rid of you. Lamb. 


O CoBNiFicius ! all goes ill, , 
With wasting cares I bend ; 

And more each day and hour they still 
Oppress thy wretched friend; 


The tender lay which thou couldst frame 

Might somewhat grief remove ; 
And oft thy reckless heart I blame, 

That thus neglects my love. 

Some plaintive strain my grief might please, 

How sad soe'er it be : ^ 

The sighs of old Simonides 

Are not too sad for me. Lamb. 


Sick, Cornificius, is thy friend, 

Sick to the heart ; and sees no end 

Of wretched thoughts, that gathering fast 

Threaten to wear him out at last. 

And yet you never come and bring — 

Though 't were the least and easiest thing — 

A comfort in that talk of thine : — 

You vex me : — this, to love like mine ? 

Prithee, a little talk for ease, for ease, 

Full as the tears of poor Simonides'. Leigh Hunt. 


THOU brothel most lewd, and you dissolute host, 
From the cup-honour'd brothers who hold the ninth post ! 
Do you think that you only have passions and power. 
Thus to mingle with wantons and spend the soft hour ? 
That no girl, be she dwarfish, tall, snowy, or brown, 

— Each soul else a rank goat — but must kiss you alone ? 
What ; because a good hundred at least, if not two, 
You for ever sit down at the door of your stew ; 
Do you fancy, you fools, as resentment may call, 

1 'II not venture one stroke, and let fly at you all ? 

Oh, in faith, but I will ! — and 'twere serving you right. 
With my stick, duly burnt, o'er your brothel to write : 
Since my girl, whom these arms could no longer detain ; 
So beloved that none e'er shall be so loved again ; 
For whose sake in a thousand mad riots I've bled ; 
Hath with you ta'en her place both to board and to bed : 


And you love her forsooth ; you sweet, delicate souls ! 

Oh 'tis shameful, you wretches, fit only for trulls ! 

But of all the lewd, infamous posse, I vow. 

The most lewd, the most worthless, Egnatius, art thou. 

Celtiberia's soft son, for long tresses renown'd ; 

Celtiberia, the country where rabbits abound ; 

Of thy bushy, black beard, who canst only be vain, 

And thy teeth nicely polish'd with urine of Spain. Nott. 


Because Egnatius' teeth are nicely white, 

To grin and show them is his sole delight. 

If haply at some trial he appear. 

Where eloquence commands the gushing tear. 

He grins. — If, at the pile, the duteous son, 

The childless mother weeps, for ever gone, 

He giins. — In short, whate'er the time or place. 

Do as he may, the grin still marks his face : 

'Tis his disease ; and, speaking as I feel, 

We cannot call it decent or genteel. 

Then, good Egnatius, list to what I sing : 

Didst thou from Roman or from Sabine spring. 

From Tiburine, or Umbrian highly fed ; 

Or with Etrurians greasy wert thou bred ; 

Wert thou descended of Lanuvian race, 

Eemark'd alike for teeth, and swarthy face ; 

Or — that my native land may mention claim — 

Wert thou like me of Transpadanian name ; 

Wert thou a son of any region, where 

Teeth are kept clean with water that is fair ? 

E'en then that ceaseless, iU-timed grin forego : 

A silly laugh 's the silliest thing I know : 

But, Celtiberian ! in that country born, 

Where what you make at night you every mom 

Rub on your teeth and scarlet gums ; for you 

To smirk and smile but proves this scandal true : 

The more your teeth are polish'd white and fine, 

The more you 've only swill'd of filthy brine. Nott. 



Wretch Eavidus, what impulse ill 

Has hurried thee away 
A base, unenvied place to fill 

In my Iambic lay ? 
What deity thus ill-invoked 
This senseless squabble hath provoked ? 

Wbuldst thou be known and mention'd wide 

The theme of trite report ? 
Well, have thy wish. — Since thou hast tried 

My fair one's love to court ; 
My verses shall preserve thy name 
In everlasting scorn and shame. Lamb. 


Can that hackney'd jade be sane ? 

She, whom dirt and vice surrounds, 
Spendthrift Formian's mistress plain 

Asks me for two hundred pounds. 

Neighbours, quick, physicians have in. 
All her friends and kinsmen summon. 

Doubt not she is mad ; she 's raving, 

Thinks herself a pretty woman. Lamb. 


Come, verses, come at my request ; 

Nor, Satire, now thy coarseness lack ; 
Yon filthy wench makes me her jest. 

And will not give your tablets back. 

If ye can bear the task, with me 

Come claim them, worry, tease, and bait. 

Ask ye of whom ? — Of her ye see 
Who struts with yon affected gait ; 


Who gapes with stunning laughter wide 

As is the Gallic beagle's grin. 
Come, Satire, come, demand, and chide, 

And persecute with ceaseless din. 

Restore them, wench of vilest trade ! 

Eestore the tablets, wretch accurst ! 
Dost thou not heed ? Oh filth ! oh jade ! 

Oh aU that's lowest, basest, worst ! 

And will not this abuse prevail ? 

At least, however rare, let 's place 
One blush,. if in all else we fail, 

Upon the strumpet's iron face. 

Shout then, in terms more loud and keen, 
" Drab, harlot ! give them back again ! 

Give back the tablets, filthy quean ! " 
Tet she 's not moved, and all is vain. 

Ah ! we must breathe a softer tale. 

Then, " Chaste and modest maid, restore . 
Our tablets, pray!" — That- must prevail. 

For that she never heard before. Lamb. 


Though splaw thy feet, and snub thy nose. 
Thy fingers short, and unlike sloes 

Thine eyes in hue may be ; 
Thy lip with driv'Uing moisture dew'd. 
Thy language vulgar, manners rude. 

Yet, wanton, hail to thee ! 

And does the province praise thy grace ; 
And e'en presume thy form and face 

With Lesbia to compare ? 
Then why should I thy charms dispraise? 
'Mid vulgar fools, in tasteless days, 

'Tis useless to be fair. Lamb. 



Whethee, my farm, the Sabine bounds, 
Or Tibur hold thy peaceful grounds ; 

(For those who love me like a friend 
Call thee of Tibur ; those who come 
To vex my pride, with any sum 

That thou art Sabine will contend.) 

But whether that, or truly class'd 

'Mong Tibur's lands, well pleased I've pass'd 

Some days in thy sequester'd seat. 
Thou from my loaded breast hast driven 
A cough my stomach's sins had given. 

Deserved by many a costly treat. 

And when I plainly hoped to feed 
As Sextius' guest, my host would read 

His speech 'gainst Attius, made of old. 
'Twas full of poison and disease ; 
It made me shiver, made me sneeze. 

And gave me a bad cough and cold. 

At length I fled into thy breast ; 
And there with med'cine and with rest 

Have cured myself in little time : 
So now, in health and spirits gay, 
My warmest thanks to thee I pay, 

Who thus hast done away my crime. 

And, when I e'er again shall go 

To hear his works, may they bestow 

Their cough and cold, not on my head. 
But upon Sextius' self, who ne'er 
Asks me to sup, but when the fare 

Is hearing his own nonsense read ! Lamb. 


Septimius said, and fondly prest 
The doting Acme to his breast : — 


" My Acme, if I prize not thee ■ 
With love as warm as love can be, 
With passion spurning any fears 
Of growing faint in length of years. 
Alone may I defenceless stand 
To meet, on Libya's desert sand, 
Or under India's torrid sky, 
The tawny lion's glaring eye ! " 

Love, before who utter'd still 
On the left-hand omens ill. 
As he ceased his faith to plight 
Laugh'd propitious on the right. 

Then Acme gently bent her head, 
Kiss'd with those lips of cherry red 
The eyes of the delighted boy. 
That swam with glistening floods of joy ; 
And whisper'd as she closely prest — 

" Septimius, soul of Acme's breast. 
Let all our lives and feelings own 
One lord, one sovereign, Love alonq ! 
I yield to love, and yield to thee. 
For thou and love art one to me. 
Though fond thy fervent heart may beat, 
My feelings glow with greater heat. 
And madder flames my bosom melt 
Than aU that thou hast ever felt." 

Love, before who utter'd stiU 
On the left-hand omens ill. 
As she ceased her faith to plight 
Laugh'd propitious on the right. 

Since favouring omens thus approved. 

They mutual love and are beloved ; 

Septimius prizes Acme more 

Than Syria's realm and Britain's shore ; 

And- from Septimius only flows 

The bliss that faithful Acme knows. 

Then search the world, and search in vain 
For fonder maid or happier swain. 


Ask men below, and gods above, 

Ask Venus kind, and potent Love, 

If e'er they with propitious care 

Heap'd equal bliss on any pair. Lamb. 


On Septimius' lap entwining. 
While his Acme sank reclining ; 
" If I love thee not," he criedj 
" Oh my Acme ! oh my bride ! 
Even to perdition love thee, 
And shall feel thy beauties move me, 
As the rapid years roll by, 
Like men who love distractedly, 
Then, where Afric's sands are spread. 
Or India's sun flames overhead. 
May a lion cross me there 
With his green-eyed, angry glare." 
Love stood listening in delight, 
And sneezed his auspice on the right. 

Acme, as her lover said. 
Lightly bending back her head. 
And with lips of ruby skimming 
His tipsy eyes, in pleasure swimming ; 
" Septimillus ! darling mine ! 
So may we thus ever twine. 
Victims vow'd at Cupid's shrine. 
As with still more keen requitals 
Thou art felt within my vitals ! " 
Love stood listening in delight, 
And sneezed his auspice on the right. 

In the heavenly omen blest 

They love, caressing and carest ; 

The poor youth would lightlier prize 

Syria's groves than Acme's eyes ; 

Acme centres in the boy 

All her longings, aU her joy. 

Who more bless'd has mortals seen ? 

When has a kinder passion been ? Elton. 



" Acme, love !" Septimius criedy 
As on his lap he held his bride, — 
" If all my heart is not for thee. 
And dotes not on thee desperately, 
And if it dote not more and more, 
As desperate heart ne'er did before. 
May I be doom'd on desert ground 
To meet the lion in his round ! " 

He said ; and Love on tiptoe near him, 

Kind at last and come to cheer him, 

Clapp'd his little hands to hear him. 

But Acme to the bending youth 

Just dropping back that rosy mouth, 

Kiss'd his reeling, hovering eyes. 

And, " O my life, my love ! " replies, 

" So may our constant service be 

To this one only deity. 

As with a transport doubly true 

He thriUs your Acme's being through ! " 

She said ; and Love on tiptoe near her. 

Kind at last, and come to cheer her, 

Clapp'd his little hands to hear her. 

Favour'd thus by heaven above, 

Their lives are one return of love ; 

For he, poor fellow, so possess'd, 

Is richer than with east and west, — 

And she, in her enamour'd boy, 

Finds all that she can-frame of joy. 

Now who has seen, in Love's subjection, 

Two more blest in their connexion. 

Or a more entire affection? Leigh Hunt. 


Spring returns, and blended meet 
Winter's cold and Summer's heat. 
Zephyr's soothing airs assuage 
Heaven's equinoctial rage, 
p 2 


Leave, Catullus, Phrygia's plains, 
Leave Nicsea's rich domains ; 
And to Asia take thy flight 
Where her splendid towns invite. 

All my mind 's for travel fired ; 

Hope hath all my limbs inspired : 

Loved society, farewell, 

Friends with whom I've joy'd to dwell ; 

From our happy jovial home 

Now- we all together roam ; 

Very soon how far and wide 

Various paths shall all divide. Lamb. 


Now Spring renews her gentle charms, 
And lull'd in Zephyr's balmy arms. 

Soft grows the angry sky ; 
Haste then, and leaving Phrygia's plains. 
Leaving Nicsea's rich domains, 

To Asia's cities fly. 

My soul all trembling pants, to stray. 
My bounding feet the call obey ; 

Friends of my youth, farewell ! 
Loved friends with whom I left my home, 
Now doom'd through various ways to roam. 

In different lands to dwell. Petek. 


Oh Porcius and Socration ! minions base. 
Panders to Piso's avarice, lust, and lies. 

You, 'bove my friends, does that vile Pretor gra,ce, 
Above Verannius and FabuUus prize ? 

While ye at splendid banquets daily meet, 

Revel from morn till day its light has hidden ; 

My loved companions wandering in the street 
Might vainly beg a place, where ye are bidden. 

Still are they my companionSj still most dear. 
Though vice abhor and poverty pursue : 


Their honest lot is mine, and mine their cheer, 

More blest to starve with them than feast with you ! 



If, all-complying, thou wouldst grant 

Thy lovely eyes to kiss, my fair. 
Long as I pleased ; oh ! I would plant 

Three hundred thousand kisses there. 
Nor could I even then refrain. 

Nor satiate leave that fount of blisses ; 
Though thicker than autumnal grain 

Should be our growing crop of kisses. Lame. 


TuLLT, most eloquent, most sage 

Of all the Eoman race. 
That deck the past or present age, 

Or future days may grace. 

Oh ! may Catullus thus declare 

An overflowing heart ; 
And, though the worst of poets, dare 

A grateful lay impart ! 

'T will teach thee how thou hast surpast 

All others in thy line ; 
For, far as he in his is last, 

Art thou the first in thine. Lamb. 


'T WAS yesterday our careless sport, 
Licinius, made the day seem short ; 
As suited men of taste and wit, 
We sported just as fancy hit ; 
And in my tablets all day long 
Wrote various kinds of verse and song ; 
While mutual jokes and flowing bowls 
United all our jo Vial souls- 


When home I went, my fancy run 
So wholly on your wit and fun, 
I loathed my lonely, cheerless meal, 
Nor sleep would o'er my senses steal : 
All night I toss'd from side to side, 
Each corner of my bed I tried, 
Still vainly wishing night would end, 
And dawn bring pleasure and my friend. 

Now listless, weary, almost dead, 

I lie unrested on my bed ; 

And 't is from thence this verse I write, 

To let you know my cheerless plight. ■ 

Now be not stern, but have S, care ; 

Nor dare neglect my sportive prayer. 

My earnest wishes cannot brook 

One scoffing word or sneering look. 

Neglect me ! — I shaU straight avow 

Hatred as warm as friendship now ; 

And Nemesis herself shall be 

Invoked for vengeance upon thee. 

She is a goddess little tender ; 

Beware, beware, how you offend her ! Lamb. 


Blest as th' immortal gods is he. 
The youth, who fondly sits by thee. 
And hears and sees thee all the while 
Softly speak, and sweetly smile. 

'T was that deprived my soul of rest, 
And raised such tumults in my breast ; 
For while I gazed, in transport toss'd. 
My breath was gone, my voice was lost. 

My bosom glow'd ; the subtle flame 
Ran quick through aU my vital frame ; 
On my dim eyes a darkness hung ; 
My ears with hollow murmurs rung ; 

With dewy damp my limbs were chill'^ ; 
My blood with gentle horrors thrill'd ; 


My feeble pulse forgot to play ; 
I fainted, sank, and died away. 

Ambkose Phillips. 


That man is like a god to me 
Who, sitting face to face with thee, 
Shall hear thee sweetly speak, and see 
Thy laughter's gentle blandishing. 

'Tis this astounds my trembling heart : 
I see thee, lovely as thou art : 
My fluttering words in rdurmurs start, 
My broken tongue is faltering. 

My flushing skin the fire betrays 
That through my blood electric strays : 
My eyes seem darkening as I gaze, 
My ringing ears re-echoing. 

Cold from my forehead glides the dew : 
A shuddering tremour thrills me through : 
My cheek a green and yellow hue : 

All gasping, dying, languishing. Elton. 


How now, wretch CatuUus ? say, 
■ Why you still your death delay ? 

For Struma Nonius fills the Curule chair ; 

Perjured Vatinius holds the Consul's care : 
How now, wretch Catullus? say. 
Why you stiU your death delay ? Lamb. 


When Calvus. short denounced aloud 

Vatinius' venal rule ; 
And, to be level with the crowd. 

Had jump'd upon a stool: 

" O learned stool ! " cried some one near, 
" How high thy fame should shime ! 


Since, but for thee, the words we cheer, 
Nor he could speak, nor we could hear ; 
The eloquence is thine ! " Lamb. 


THOU to taste, to feeling dead ! 
If neither Otho's dwarfish head, 

Nor Libo's filthy gibe. 
Nor Vettius' unwash'd feet ; if these 
Thee nor Fuifecius can displease, 

Thine old and hackney'd scribe. 

Then, mighty emperor, once again 

1 '11 pour forth my Iambic strain 

Uncourtly, bold, and free : 
Again shalt thou my truth condemn ; 
And he, who will be friend to them, 

Shall still be foe to me. Lamb. 


Mayst thou, though fond of all the vicious tribe, 
May old Fuffitius too, thy hackney'd scribe. 
At least detest vile Otho's shallow brain. 
That vulgar upstart of the rabble train ! 
May stinking Libo your displeasure share, 
Whose unbathed feet the filthy brute declare ! 
Fume on, proud monarch, as thou read'st this strain ; 
It breathes but truth ; then fume, and read again. 



Oh ! tell me, dear friend, if it can be reveal'd, 
In what dark abode you are lying conceal'd ; 

For I vainly have traversed of late 
The campus, the libraries all, and above 
The circus, the temple of thundering Jove, 

And the gardens of Pompey the Great. 

I question'd the damsels that roam'd through the place, 
Whenever I met any fair one, whose face 
Was bedeck'd in contentment and smiles ; 


" Restore me Camerius ! " I confident cried. 
" Restore me Camerius ! nor venture to hide 
Any more by your profligate wiles." 

Then one of them laughing and wantonly said, 
Who drew down her vest and her bosom display'd — 

" Hidden here in these roses he lies : 
But, ah ! 't were a labour Herculean to tear 
Your friend from that seat ; for while revelling there, 

He aU friendship will proudly despise." 

Then say where you are, whither going, I pray, 
And boldly declare it in face of the. day ; 

If some snow-bosom'd fair one employs 
Your moments in bliss, you by secrecy blight 
The fruits of your love ; for to love 't is delight 

To converse and to boast of its joys. 

Or Secret be still, if your pleasure it be : 
But yet, oh ! preserve, I entreat it, for me 

As of old, in your friendship a place ; 
For if I were Talus, the guardian of Crete, 
Or rode I the winds upon Pegasus fleet. 

Or were Ladas, the first in the race. 

Or could I the sandals of Perseiis obtain. 

The speed with which Rhesus rush'd over the plain 

Whea he urged on his horses of snow ; 
The force and the lightness of all living things 
That gods ever gifted with swiftness or wings 

Of the winds when the fiercest they blow : 

All these might be join'd in my body alone ; 
Yet wearied and faint in each sinew and bone, 

Every nerve, every limb I should be ; 
And failing, and sinking, exhausted and lame, 
"Would languor eat up all the strength of my frame, 

O Camerius ! in searching for thee. Lamb. 


'Tis ridiculous, Cato, 'tis really droll ; 

When you hear it, I 'm sure you will laugh from your soul : 

Cato, laugh ! if to thee thy Catullus is dear ; 

For 'tis droll and ridiculous past aU compare : 


The fact is, this moment I caught my young blade 
Just attempting to rifle an innocent maid : 
Then, sweet Venus, if thou wilt not take it amiss, 
I will find out the shaft that shall punish for this ! 



No debauchees were better pair'd 
Than vile Mamurra and his lord ; 

Nor can we think it strange; 
The Roman's and the Formian's name, 
With equal infamy and shame 

Deep stampt, no tinie can change. 

Vicious alike one couch .they press ; 
A little learning both possess ; 

Both rank adulterers are : 
No debauchees were better pair'd 
Than vile Mamurra and his lord. 

Twin rivals of the fair. Nott, 


Celius ! think, our Lesbia, once thy pride ; 

Lesbia, that Lesbia whom Catullus prized 
More than himself, and aU the world beside, 

Now gives for hire to profligates despised 
In the dark alley, or the common lane. 
The charms he loved, the love he sigh'd to gain ! Lamb. 


Can that wretch of Bononia, can Rufa, mean soul ! 

Can that vile wife of Menius, Rufulus cajole ? 

She who haunted each burying-place, merely to steal 

From the pile that was burning her infamous meal ; 

Who from funeral flames as collecting her meat, 

By the low-lived, half-shaved body-burners was beat. 




Whence sprang that savage, tliat unfeeling mind ? 

Art thou some offspring of the lion kind, 

On scorching Libya's thirsty mountains born ; 

Or from the womb of barking Scylla torn ? 

That thus thou'rt deaf to all my urgent woes ; 

O heart too harden'd that no pity knows ! Nott. 


THOU, Urania's heaven-born son, 
Whose loved abode is Helicon ; 
Whose power bestows the virgin's charms 
To bless the youthful bridegroom's arms ; 
O Hymen ! friend to faithful pairs ; 
O Hymen ! hear our fervent prayers ! 

Around thy brow the chaplet bind. 
Of fragrant marjoram entwined ; 
And bring the veil with crimson dyed, 
The refuge of the blushing bride. 
Come, joyous, while thy feet of snow 
With yellow sandals brightly glow ' 

Arouse thee on this happy day ; 
Carol the hymeneal lay ; 
Raise in the strain thy silver voice, 
And in the festal dance rejoice ; 
And brandish high the blissful sign. 
The guiding torch of flaming pine. 

When Venus claim'd the golden prize, 
And bless'd the Phrygian shepherd's eyes ; 
No brighter charms his judgment sway'd 
Than those that grace this mortal maid ; 
And every sigh and omen fair 
The nuptials hail, and greet the pair. 


The myrtle's sweet on Asia's ground, 
Its branches fair with blossoms crown'd ; 
Which oft the Hamadryad crew 
In frolic nourish with the dew : 
But not less fair, but not less sweet, 
Her Manlius now does Julia meet. 

Then hither speed thy course to take : 
Awhile the Thespian hill forsake; 
Nor waste awhile the lingering hours 
Reclining in Aonian bowers. 
Where Aganippe's springing fount 
Eefreshes all the sacred mount. 

Propitiate here the maiden's vows, 
And lead her fondly to her spouse ; 
And firm as ivy clinging holds 
The tree it grasps in mazy folds, 
Let virtuous love as firmly bind 
The tender passions of her mind. 

Te virgins, whom a day like this 
Awaits to greet with equal bliss. 
Oh ! join the song, your voices raise 
To hail the god ye love to praise. 
O Hymen ! god of faithful pairs ; 
O Hymen ! hear our earnest prayers ! 

The god, who loves the pure, will hear 
A virgin's prayer with willing ear, 
Will swiftly to his office haste 
To bless the fond, reward the chaste ; 
The god, who ever feels delight 
When virtuous hearts in love unite. 

O ye ! who warmly, truly love ; 
Invoke no other god above : 
To none beside address your sighs 
Of all enthroned amid the skies. 
O Hymen ! god of faithful pairs ; 
O Hymen ! hear our earnest prayers t 


Invoked by sires, with anxious fear, 
Their children's days with bliss to cheer ; 
By maidens, who to thee alone 
Unloose the chaste, the virgin zone ; 
By fervid bridegrooms, whose deUght 
Is staid till thou hast blest the rite. 

Thy influence tears, thy fond behest, 
The damsel from her mother's breast ; 
And yields her blooming, blushing charms 
To fiery man's resistless arms. 
O Hymen ! god of faithful pairs ; 
O Hymen ! hear our earnest prayers ! 

Though wanton Venus feed the flame ; 
Nor grateful praise, nor virtuous fame 
Can wait on those, who loose and free 
Indulge a love unblest by thee. 
What other god can mortals dare 
"With genial Hymen to compare ? 

No house can boast a lengthen'd race ; 
Ko heir can parents' honours grace ; 
They serve to deck their tombs alone. 
If parents' lives thy sway disown. 
What other god can mortals dare 
With genial Hymen to compare ? 

In vain the son, if scorn'd thy band. 
Seeks power or greatness in the land ; 
If blest by thee his natal day, 
The proudest realm may own his sway. 
What other god can mortals dare 
With genial Hymen to compare ? 

Unbar the door, the gates unfold ! 
The bashful virgin comes. — Behold, 
How red the nuptial torches glare ; 
How bright they shake their splendid hair ! 
Qome, gentle bride ! — The waning day 
Eebukes thy lingering, cold delay. 


We will not blame thy bashful fears, 
Eeluctant step, and gushing tears. 
That chide the swift approach of night 
To give thy bridegroom all his right. 
Yet come, sweet bride ! — The waning day 
Rebukes thy lingering, cold delay. 

Daughter of Cotta, cease to weep, 
For love shall watch, and falsehood sleep. 
The sun, at dawn that lifts his blaze 
From ocean, and the world surveys, 
Shall never look, shall never shine 
On beauties that shall rival thine. 

Thus blooms, amid the gay parterre. 
Some wealthy owner's pride and care, 
The hyacinth with colours proud. 
The loveliest of the varied crowd. 
Come, gentle bride ! — The waning day 
Eebukes thy lingering, cold delay. 

Then come, sweet bride, and bless thy spouse, 
And sanction love by nuptial vows. 
At length our friendly numbers hear : 
The torches high their brilliance rear. 
And richly shake with glowing pride 
Their golden hair. — Then come, sweet bride ! 

No profligate, no faithless swain, 
No follower of the wanton train. 
No rake, who joys in wild excess. 
Now woos/thee to his warm caress. 
He ne'er will taste of welcome rest, 
But pillow'd on thy tender breast. 

As round the husband elm entwine 
The tendrils of the clinging vine. 
Thus will he woo thee still to place 
Round him a fondling close embrace. 
Come, gentle bride ! — The waning day 
Eebukes thy lingering, cold delay. 


O festal couch ! with garlands sweet, 
What joys thy happy lord will greet ! 
What joys in many a sleepless night ! 
What joys in day's inspiring light ! 
Come, gentle bride ! — The waning day 
Eebukes thy lingering, cold delay. 

Raise, boys, the beaming torches high ! 
She comes — but veil'd from every eye ; 
The deeper dyes her blushes hide : 
With songs, with preans greet the bride ! 
Hail, Hymen ! god of faithful pairs ! 
Hail, Hymen ! who hast heard our prayers ! 

Now pour the warm Fescennine lays, 
And all the bridegroom's passion raise : 
Now let his pure, his plighted hand 
Throw nuts to all the youthful band. 
Base emblems of the looser joys 
He henceforth leaves to wanton boys. 

Throw, bridegroom, throw thy nuts away ! 
Enough in joy's voluptuous day 
Hast thou beguiled thy youthful time ; 
But now thy manhood's riper prime 
Let pure, let bless'd Thalassus sway : 
Then throw thy mystic nuts away. 

'Tis whisper'd, that the wanton's charms 
Will yet allure thee to her arms : 
Oh ! let no shameless rival's pride 
Degrade and pain thy gentle bride. . 
Hail, Hymen ! god of faithful pairs ! 
Hail, Hymen ! who hast heard our prayers ! 

Unloved, unwedded youths and boys 
May freely sport in wanton joys : 
Let him, that's blest by wedlock's rite. 
In wedlock seek his sole delight. 
Hail, Hymen ! god of faithful pairs ! 
Hail, Hymen ! who hast heard our prayers ! 


And let no coldness damp Ms fire, 

Fair bride, nor coyness check desire. 

Oh ! make Ms heart less sweet confess 

All lawless love, than thy caress. 

Hail, Hymen ! god of faithful pairs ! 

Hail, Hymen ! who hast heard our prayers ! 

Eiches, and power, and rank, and state, 
With Manlius' love thy days await : 
These all thy youth shall proudly cheer, 
And these shall nurse thy latest year. 
Hail, Hymen ! god of faithful pairs ! 
Hail, Hymen ! who hast heard our prayers ! 

Till dotage, with enfeebling sway, 

Shall tremble in thy temples grey ; 

And shake the brow, as if it meant 

To nod perpetual assent. 

Hail, Hymen ! god of faithful pairs ! 

Hail, Hymen ! who hast heard our prayers ! 

Let not the threshold, omen blest ! 

Be with thy golden slipper prest ; 

But swiftly spring with lightness o'er, 

And swiftly pass the polish'd door. 

Hail, Hymen ! god of faithful pairs ! 

Hail, Hymen ! who hast heard our prayers ! 

See, on the Tyrian couch reclining. 

The bridegroom for thy summons pining : 

By thee are all his senses fired ; 

By thee is all his frame inspired. 

Hail, Hymen ! god of faithful pairs ! 

Hail, Hymen ! who hast heard our prayers ! 

As warm as thine, his passion's heat. 
As strong his rapturous pulses beat ; 
Nay, fiercer flames must still pervade 
The bridegroom than the timid maid. 
Hail, Hymen ! god of faithful pairs ! 
Hail, Hymen ! who hast heard our prayers ! 


Purple-robed boy, whose pleasing care 

Has been to lead the lingering fair, 

Release her arm : — By others led 

She now ascends the bridal bed. 

Hail, Hymen ! god of faithful pairs ' 

Hail, Hymen ! who hast heard our prayers ! 

Ye chaster matrons, who have known 
One honour'd husband's love alone, 
Of truth in years long virtuous tried, 
'Tis yours to place the lovely bride. 
Hail, Hymen ! god of faithful pairs ! 
Hail, Hymen ! who hast heard our prayers ! 

Now haste, young bridegroom, swiftly haste ; 
The bride is in the chamber placed : 
Inspiring blushes warmly streak 
The fairness of her snowy cheek. 
So mix'd ■with poppies' crimson glow 
The white parthenium's flow'rets blow. 

Nor is thy form, by heaven above ! 

Unworthy such a fair one's love. 

"Venus in rival'charms array'd 

The manly youth and tender maid. 

Haste, bridegroom, haste ! — One western ray, 

Still faintly lingering, chides delay. 

Needs not to chide ; thou swift hast sped. 
Propitious Venus bless thy bed ! 
For sanction' d passion, solemn rites. 
On thee bestow thy wish'd delights : 
Not lust perverted, shame supprest. 
The pure desires that warm thy breast. 

Whoe'er the number would define 
Of sports and joys that shall be thine. 
He first must count the grains of sand 
That spread the Erythraean strand. 
And every star and twinkling light 
That stud the glistening arch of night. 


226 catulltjS. 

Oh ! boundless be your love's excess, 
And soon our hopes let children bless ! 
Let not this ancient honour'd name 
Want heirs to guard its future fame ; 
Nor any length of years assign 
A limit to the glorious line. 

Soon may we see a baby rest 
Upon its lovely mother's breast ; 
Which, feebly playful, stretching out 
Its little arms to those about. 
With lips apart a tiny space. 
Is laughing in its father's face. 

Let young Torquatus' look avow 

All Manlius' features in his brow ; 

That those, who know him not, may trace 

The knowledge of his noble race ; 

And by his lineal brow declare 

His lovely mother chaste as fair. 

Then shall maternal virtue claim 
As splendid praise, as pure a name 
To deck her child, as erst was known 
To young Telemachus alone, ■* 
Whom, then of all most fair and chaste, 
Penelope with honour graced. 

Now close the doors, ye maiden friends" ; 

Our sports, our rite, our service ends. 

With you let virtue still reside, 

O bridegroom brave, and gentle bride ! 

And youth its lusty hours employ 

In constant love and ardent joy. Lamb. 



'Tis Hesper beams ! — Behold his rising light 
Brings on, at length, the long-expected night. 
Then, youths, arise ; the festal banquet leave. 
Obey the summons of the star of eve! 


The virgin comes, led by his genial ray ; 
*Tis yours to greet her with the nuptial lay. 
O Hymen, hear !' O sacred Hymen, haste ; 
Come, god and guardian of the fond and chaste ! 


Behold, the youths are ris'n ! — Rise, maidens, rise ; 
Hesper o'er Eta's height illumes the skies. 
Blithe are the youths ; with tuneful art they frame 
A tender song, that to surpass were fame. 
Hymen, hear ! O sacred Hymen, haste ; 
Come, god and guardian of the fond and chaste ! 


Not to an easy conquest we aspire ; 
Mark with what studious zeal the lovely quire 
Polish their lay ; nor wiU the care be vain, 
Fame long shall cherish their harmonious strain. 
Our minds, while verse should be their only care, 
Still muse enraptured on th' attendant fair ; 
Heedless how wild the measure flows along. 
Our ears still dwell on their entrancing song. 
We shall be justly conquer 'd. Victory wise 
On zeal and labour still bestows her prize. 
At least, then, rally all our mental powers, 
And let the palm of poetry be ours. 
They sing — ^let us then pour responsive lays. 
Repel their chiding or return their praise. 
Hymen, hear ! O sacred Hymen, haste ; 
Come, god and guardian of the fond and chaste ! 


Hesper, whose fatal splendour flames on high. 
Most cruel star of all that stud the sky ! 
Who still art prompt, while no remorse can check, 
To tear the daughter from her mother's neck, 
E'en while that daughter clinging begs delay ; 
And give to man her chastity a prey. 
What blacker deed do brutal victors act 
In cities doom'd by vengeance to be sack'd ? 
Yet, Hymen, hear ! O sacred Hymen, haste ; 
Come, god and guardian of the fond and chaste ! 

Q 2 



Hesper, most blissful star of all above, 
Thy torch stiU ratifies the bond of love. 
Long since their sires the sacred compact made, 
Long since their youthful hearts the call pbey'd. 
Yet still their ardent breasts apart have sigh'd. 
Till thy kind light would bless the knot they tied. 
What god can give, what proud celestial power, 
A richer boon than thy connubial hour ? 
O Hymen, hear ! O sacred Hymen, haste ; 
Come, god and guardian of the fond and chaste ! 


Hesper, sweet maids, hath from us dared to rend 
A childish playmate and a youthful friend. 
G-uards, star of ill ! at thy appearing light. 
Watch for the various plunderers of the night : 
Then prowl, when bright thy favouring beams above, 
Seduction, ravishment, and lawless love ; 
Till changed thy task, thy renovated ray. 
As morning's star forewarns them of the day. 


Hear not the maids who these reproaches feign, 
Their secret breasts adore thine amorous reign. 
Shine still serene ! then, Hesper, proudly shine. 
Nor heed their words, whose hearts are wholly thine. 
O Hymen hear ! O sacred Hymen, haste ; 
Come, god and guardian of the fond and chaste ! 


When in the garden's fenced and cultured ground, 
Where browse no flocks, where ploughshares never wound, 
By sunbeams strengthen'd, nourish'd by the shower. 
And sooth'd by zephyr, blooms the lovely flower : 
Maids long to place it in their modest zone. 
And youths enraptured wish it for their own. 
But, from the stem once pluck'd, in dust it lies. 
Nor youth nor maid will then desire or prize. 
The virgin thus her blushing beauty rears. 
Loved by her kindred and her young compeers ; 


But, if her simple charm, her maiden grace, 
Is sullied by one spoiler's rude embrace, 
Adoring youths no more her steps attend, 
Nor loving maidens greet the maiden friend. 
O Hymen, hear ! O sacred Hymen, haste ; 
Come, god and guardian of the fond and chaste ! 


As in the naked field the vine's weak shoot 

Nor lifts its languid stem, nor glows with fruit ; 

But by itself weigh'd down it lowly strays, 

And on its root its highest tendril lays : 

The herdsmen then, the passing hinds, neglect 

The lonely vine, nor cherish, nor protect. 

If by some happy chance its feeble boughs 

Twined round the trunk shall make the elm a spouse ; 

No herdsmen then, nor passing hinds, neglect 

The wedded vine, but cherish and protect. 

So scorn'd the maid, who flies the fond embrace, 

And withering adds no honours to her race. 

So is the fair beloved, who binds her fate 

In wedlock chaste to some accordant mate : 

She gives the joys that warm her husband's breast. 

And doting parents by her bliss are blest. 


Then, gentle maiden, shun no more the spouse 

To whom thy father pledged thy bridal vows. 

If thou hast loved as daughters should, obey 

The latest dictate of parental sway. 

Thou must thy timid wish to his resign ; 

Nor is thy chastity entirely thine ; 

Thy parents gave it thee with life and light ; 

Part is thy father's, part thy mother's right. 

They to thy bridegroom yielded with his bride 

Her filial duty and her maiden pride. 

Then yield, nor damp by chill reluctant shame 

Thy parents' wishes and thy lover's flame. 

O H3rmen, hear ! sacred Hymen, haste ; 

Come, god and guardian of the fond and chaste. Lamb. 




Vesper ascends : ye youths ! together rise : 
Eve's long-expected stai- has gilt the skies. 
Rise, leave the feast ; the bride will soon appear ; 
The bridal song be sung : Hymen, Hymen, hear ! 


Mark ye the youths ? to face them, maidens, rise ; 
Night-shedding Hesper lights the spangled skies : 
Look up ; 'tis so ; and sav7 ye how their throng 
Sprang forth ? nor idly : soon to raise the song : 
Let us in rival strain surpass the lay : 
O Hymen, Hymen, bless the wedding day ! 


Arduous the palm of strife : oh, friends ! be strong : 

For see yon maidens muse some mutter'd song : 

Nor idly muse : some memorable lay ; 

Whilp we our ears and thoughts have turn'd away : 

We merit shame, since victory favours care : 

Yet now your parts with emulation bear : 

'Tis theirs to speak : let us responses frame ! 

O Hymen, Hymen, bless the marriage flame ! 


Hesper ! knows heaven a star like thee severe. 
That tear'st the maiden from her mother dear ? 
The ling'ring maiden from her mother's arms. 
And yield'st some fervid youth her spotless charms ; 
What wrongs more fierce can cities storm'd display ! 
Come, Hymen, hither ! Hymen, grace the day ! 


Hesper ! what star more joyous shines above ? 
Thy flames confirm the plighted troth of love : 
By covenants of men, of parents seal'd, 
Thy dawn alone the wish'd embrace can yield : 
What hour can gods bestow more wish'd than this ? 
Come, Hymen, hither ! crown the hour of bliss ! 



Alas, companions ! Hesper's dawning ray 

Has stolen a playmate of our sports away. 

Oh, dreaded star ! how many sentries wait 

At thy pale glance to watch the guarded gate ! 

Through nightly shades the stealthy robbers rove. 

The soft, th' insidious ravishers of love : 

And oft, as Lucifer, from morning skies 

Does thy pale gleam their hairbreadth 'scapes surprise. 


This, Hesper ! js th' unwedded fair one's joy : 
To rail on thee who dost her thoughts employ. 
What if their railing be a trick of art, 
And him they flout, they worship in their heart ? 
They long for him whom prudishly they chide, , 
O Hymen, Hymen, at this hour preside ! 


As in fenced gardens blows some floweret rare, 
Safe from the nibbling flock, or griding share : 
Which gales refresh, sun strengthens, rain-drops rear. 
To many a youth and many a maiden dear : 
Clipt by the nail, it bends the stem and fades : 
No more by youths admired, or wish'd by maids ; 
So loved the unpolluted virgin blooms ; 
But when the blighting touch her flower consumes. 
No more she charms the youth, or charms the maid. 
Come, Hymen, Hymen, give the nuptials aid ! 


As on the naked field the lonely vine 
Yields no sweet grape, nor lifts its tendril twine : 
Droops with its weight, and winds its tendril shoots 
With earthward bend around their twisted roots. 
Nor herd nor peasant, in the noon-day heat. 
Beneath its chequer'd, bow'ry shade retreat : 
But if it clasp some elm with married leaves. 
Its shade the peasant and the herd receives : 
Such is the virgin who untouch'd remains. 
While still unwoo'd her useless beauty wanes. 


But wedded in lier bloom, those charms delight 
Her husband's eyes, nor shame her parents' sight. 


Resist not fiercely, virgin ! — but obey 

Thy mother, father : thy betrothers they : 

Not thine thy virgin flower : a part is theirs : 

Thy sire a third ; a third thy mother shares ; 

A third thy own : then struggle not, coy maid ! 

For in thy bridegroom both are disobeyed : 

They with thy dower have yielded every right. 

Come, Hymen, Hymen, bless the marriage night ! Elton. 


BoENE swiftly o'er the seas to Phrygia's woody strand, 
Atys with rapid haste infuriate leap'd to land ; 
Where high-inwoven groves in solemn darkness meet, 
Rush'd to the mighty deity's remote and awful seat, 
And wilder'd in his brain, fierce inspiration's prey, 
There with a broken flint he struck his sex away. 

Soon as he then beheld his comely form unmann'd. 
While yet the purple blood flow'd reeking on the land ; 
Seized in his snowy grasp the drum, the timbrel light, 
That still is heard, dread Cybele, at thine initiate rite, 
And struck the quivering skin, whence hollow echoes flew. 
And raised this panting song to his infuriate crew. 

" Ye priests of Cybele, or rather let me say. 

For ye are men no longer, ye priestesses, away ! 

Together pierce the forest, great Cybele's domains, 

Ye vagrant flocks of her on Dindymus who reigns. 

Ye, like devoted exiles, who, seeking foreign lands. 

Have follow'd me your leader, have bow'd to my commands ; 

Have cross'd the salt-sea wave, have dared the raging storms, 

And, loathing woman's love, unmann'd your lusty forms ; 

The sense of error past let laughing frenzy blind ; 

Let doubt, let thought itself be driven from the mind. 

Haste, haste, together haste to Cybele divine ! 

Seek we her Phrygian grove and dark sequester'd shrine, 


Where cymbals clash, where drums resound their deepening 

Where Phrygia's crooked pipe breathes out its solemn drone, 
Where votaresses toss their ivy-circled brows, 
And urge with piercing yells their consecrated vows, 
Where the delirious train disport as chance may lead : 
Thither our vows command in mystic dance to speed." 
Thus Atys, female now, to female comrades sung. 
The frantic chorus rose from many a panting tongue ; 
Re-echoes the deep timbrel, the hollow cymbals ring. 
And all to verdant Ida run madly as they sing. 
Though breathless, still impetuous with inspiration's force. 
Raving and bewilder'd, scarce conscious of her course. 
As the unbroken heifer will fly the threaten'd yoke, 
Atys through gloomy woods, where never sun-beam broke, 
Loud-striking the light timbrel, rush'd on with bounding stride. 
And all the frantic priestesses pursue their rapid guide. 
The fearful fane at length their panting ardour stops, 
Each, faint and unrefresh'd, in leaden slumber drops. 
In languor most profound their eyelids are deprest. 
And all ecstatic rage is lull'd in torpid rest. 

But when again the sun returning to the skies 

Put forth his golden brow, when now his radiant eyes 

Throughout white heaven, and eaxth, and ocean pour'd their 

And with thunder-pacing steeds he chased the shades of night. 
Sleep then leaving Atys, who started from her rest, 
To fair Pasithea fled, and sunk upon her breast. 
Whea slumber's reign serene had frenzy's flame subdued ; 
When Atys her feh deed in clearer reason view'd, 
Beheld in what abode her future lot was placed. 
And, ah ! how low she stood in nature's rank disgraced ; 
Then, hurried to despair by passion's rising tide, 
Again she wildly sought the country's sea-girt side ; 
There, casting her full eyes o'er boundless ocean's flow, 
Address'd her native land in plaintive words of woe. 

" My country, oh my mother ! creatress, parent earth ! 
My coiintry, oh my nurse that fed me from my birth ! 
From whom, as churlish slaves their kindly lord have fled, 
To Ida's gloomy wood an exile I have sped. 


With beasts their frozen dens for my abode to share, 
And madly roaming rouse the fierce one from his lair. 
Ah ! where, in what far point of this surrounding sky, 
Shall I now deem, my native land, thy loved shores lie ? 
My longing eyeballs strain to cast their sight to thee, 
While yet awhile my mind is from its frenzy free. 
' Must I for dreary woods forsake my native shore, 
And see my friends, my home, my parents never more ? 
No more the Forum seek, the gay Palestra's court. 
The Stadium, urge no more each famed gymnastic sport ? 
O wretched, wretched man ! while years shall slowly roll 
For ever o'er and o'er again, grieve, grieve, my soul ! 

" What grace, what beauty is there, that I did not enjoy ? 

I, when in manhood's prime, a youth, or yet a boy. 

The flower of all who trod the firm gymnastic soil. 

The victor 'mid the crowd who wore the wrestler's oil. 

My gates were ever throng'd, and full my threshold swarm'd ; 

With blooming garlands hung, that lovesick maidens form'd ; 

My mansion gaily glitter'd each morning as I sped 

At earliest blush of sunrise with lightness from my bed. 

" And must I ever now a maniac votaress rave, 
Heaven's devoted handmaid, to Cybele a slave. 
Her frantic orgies ply, disgraced in nature's plan, 
A part of what I was, a maim'd, a barren man ; 
And dwell in Ida's caves which snow for ever chills ; 
And pass my savage life on Phrygia's rugged hills. 
Placed with the sylvan stag, the forest-ranging boar ? 
Oh ! now how soon I rue the deed, how bitterly deplore ! " 

As from her rosy lips these wandering murmurs broke. 

They rose to heaven and bore th' unwonted words she spoke : 

Indignantly unyoking her lions on the plain. 

And rousing the grim beast that bore the left-hand rein. 

Great Cybele, enraged, her dread injunction told ; 

And thus to fury waked the tyrant of the fold. 

" Haste, fierce one, haste away ! rush on with glaring ire ; 
With inspiration's rage, with frenzy's goad of fire. 
Drive the too-daring youth, who wbuld my service fly, 
Again to seek the gloom of yonder forest high. 


Haste : lash thyself to rage till all thy flank be sore : 

Let all around re-echo to thine appalling roar : 

Toss with thy sinewy neck on high thy glossy mane." 

So spake terrific Cybele, and loosed her lion's rein. 

Gladly the beast awakes his ruthlessness of mind, 

Bounds, rages, reckless leaves the thicket crush'd behind, 

Then swiftly gain'd the beach, wash'd by the foamy flood, 

Where Atys in despair amid the breakers stood, 

And springing fiercely forth — the wretch, no longer brave, 

Into the forest plunged, and in a living grave 

There pass'd her long devoted life, a priestess and a slave. 

O great, O fearful goddess ! O Cybele divine ! 
O goddess, who hast placed on Dindymus thy shrine ! 
Far be from my abode thy sacred frenzy's fire, 
Madden more willing votaries, more daring minds inspire ! 



Atts o'er the distant waters, driving in his rapid bark. 
Soon with foot of wild impatience touch'd the Phrygian forest 

Where amid the awful shades possess'd by mighty Cybele, 
In his zealous frenzy blind, 
And wand'ring in his hapless mind. 
With flinty knife he gave to earth the weights that stamp 
_ virility. 
Then as the widow'd being saw its wretched limbs bereft of 

And the unaccustom'd blood that on the ground polluting ran. 
With snowy hand it snatch'd in haste the timbrel's airy 

round on high, 
That opens with the trumpet's blast, thy rites, Maternal 

Mystery ; 
And upon its whirling flngers, while the hollow parchment 

Thus in outcry tremulous to its wild companions sung : — 

" Now come along, come along with me, 

Worshippers of Cybele, 

To the lofty groves of the deity ! 


Ye vagabond herds that bear the name 

Of the Dindymenian dame ! 
Who seeking strange lands, like the banish'd of home, 
With Atys, with Atys distractedly roam ; 
Who your limbs have unmann'd in a desperate houi% 
With a frantic disdain of the Cyprian power ; 
Who have carried my sect through the dreadful salt sea, 
Rouse, rouse your wild spirits careeringly ! 

No delay, no delay, 

But together away, 
And follow me up to the Dame all-compelling, 
To her high Phrygian groves, and her dark Phrygian' 

Where the cymbals they clash, and the drums they resound. 
And the Phrygian's curved pipe pours its moanings around ; 
Where the ivy-crown'd priestesses toss with their brows, 
And send the shrill howl through their deity's house ; 
Where they shriek, and they scour, and they madden about, — 
'Tis there we go bounding in mystical rout." 

No sooner had spoken 
This voice half-broken, 
When suddenly from quivering tongues arose the universal cry. 
The timbrels with a boom resound, the cymbals with a clash 

And up the verdant Ida with a quicken'd step the chorus flew, 
While Atys with the timbrels' smite the terrible procession 

drew ; 
Eaging, panting, wild, and witless, through the sullen shades 

it broke, 
Like the fierce, unconquer'd heifer bursting from her galling 

And on pursue the sacred crew, till at the door of Cybele, 
Faint and fasting, down they sink, in pale immovability : 
The heavy sleep — the heavy sleep — grows o'er their failing 

And lock'd in dead repose the rabid frenzy lies. 
But when the Sun look'd out with eyes of light 
Round the firm earth, wild seas, and skies of morning white, 
Scaring the lingering shades 
With echo-footed steeds, 


Sleep took his flight from Atys, hurrying 

To his Pasithea's arms on tremulous wing ; 

And the poor dreamer woke, oppress'd with sadness, 

To memory woke and to collected madness. — 

Struck with its loss, with what it was, and where, 

Back trod the wretched being in despair 

To the sea-shore, and stretching forth its eye 

O'er the wide waste of waters and of sky, 

Thus to its country cried with tears of misery : — 

" My country, oh my country, parent state. 

Whom like a very slave and runagate, 

Wretch that I am, I left for wilds like these, 

This wilderness of snows and matted trees. 

To house with shivering beasts and learn their wants, 

A fierce intruder on their sullen haunts, — 

Where shall I fancy thee ? Where cheat mine eye 

With tricking out thy quarter in the sky ? 

Fain, while my wits a little space are free, 

Would my poor eye-balls strain their points on thee ! 

Am I then torn from home and far away ! 

Doom'd through these woods to trample day by day. 

Far from my kindred friends and native soil, 

The mall, the race, and wrestlers bright with oil ? 

Ah wretch, bewail, bewail ; and think for this 

On all thy past variety of bliss. 

I was the charm of life, the social spring. 

First in the race, and brightest in the ring : 

Warm with the stir of welcome was my home ; 

And when I rose betimes, my friends would come 

Smiling and pressing in officious scores, 

Thick as the flowers that hang at lovers' doors : — 

And shall I then a minist'ring madman be 

To angry gods ? A howling devotee ? — 

A slave to bear what never senses can, — 

Half of myself, sexless, — a sterile man ? 

And must I feel, ;with never-varied woes. 

The o'erhanging winter of these mountain snows. 

Skulking through ghastly woods for evermore. 

Like the lean stag, or the brute vagrant boar ? 


Ah me ! ah me ! Already I repent ; 

E'en now, e'en now I feel my shame and punishment !" 

As thus with rosy lips the wretch grew loud, 

Startling the ears of heaven's imperial crowd, 

The Mighty Mistress o'er her lion yoke 

Bow'd in her wrath, — and loosening as she spoke 

The left-hand' savage, scatterer of herds, 

Roused his fell nature with impetuous words. 

" Fly, ruffian, fl.y, indignant and amain, 

And scare this being, who resists my reign, . 

Back to the horror-breathing woods again. 

Lash thee, and fly and shake with sinewy might 

Thine ireful hair, and as at dead of night 

Fill the wild echoes with rebellowing fright." 

Threatening she spoke, and loosed the vengeance dire, 

Who gathering all his rage and glaring fire. 

Starts with a roar, and scours beneath her eyes, 

Scattering the splintei-'d bushes as he flies : 

Down by the sea he spies the wretch at last. 

And springs precipitous : — the wretch as fast. 

Flies raving back into his living grave. 

And there for ever dwells, a savage and a slave 

O goddess ! Mistress. Cybele ! dread name ! 

mighty power ! O Dindymenian dame ! 

Far from my home thy visitations be : 

Drive others mad, not me : 

Drive others into impulse wild, and fierce insanity. 

Leigh Hunt. 


When erst the pines, hewn from the towering wood 
On Pelion's summit, swam o'er Neptune's fiood 
Far as the streams of Phasis, and the land 
Aetes ruled : what time the daring band. 
The chosen strength of all the youth of Greece, 
•Resolved to plunder Colchos of its fleece, 
In their swift vessel braved the salt domain, 
And swept with oars of fir its azure plain ; 












Not these thy promises so fondly vow'd, 
When all affections to thine accent bow'd : 
Thou never bad'st me hope a fate like this, 
But festive spousals and connubial bliss. 
The oaths thy passion urged thee then to swear 
Are now all scatter'd to the senseless air. 
Then let no woman hence in man believe, 
Or think a lover speaks but to deceive. 
He, while ungratified desire is high, 
Shrinks from no oath, no promise wiU deny ; 
Soon as his lust is satiate with its prize, 
He spurns his vows, and perjury's curse defies. 
I snatch'd thee, lost, from death's ingulfing wave ; 
I rather doom'd my brother to the grave, 
Than fail in peril's desperate hour to aid 
Thee, hard and false ; and I am thus repaid ; 
Am giv'n to beasts a prey ; nor shall remorse 
Heap e'en the rudest grave upon my corse. 

" What lonely lioness thy childhood fed, 
What raging sea disgorged, what quicksand bred, 
What vast Charybdis, .or what Scylla stern ; 
Who mak'st for life preserved such fell return ? 
Though by the will of thy harsh father tied 
Thou couldst not wed, and hail me as thy bride ; 
Thou might'st have borne me to thy native soil, 
And I, thine handmaid, plied my pleasing toil ; 
O'er thy fair feet the tepid stream have shed. 
And smoothed the purple covering of thy bed. 

" But, ah ! has grief subdued my tortured mind. 
Or why complain I to the reckless wind ; 
Which with no sense endow'd, no feeling warm. 
Nor hears my utterance, nor can answer form ? 
The midmost sea his barks already reach ; 
No man, no creature treads the silent beach. 
Harsh fate, insulting thus my latest pain, 
Denies the last sad solace, to complain. 
Oh ! would, all-powerful Jove, th' Athenian fleet 
Had neve" touch'd upon the shore of Crete ; 
Nor treacherous sailor to its port convey'd 
The fatal tribute to the monster paid ; 

K 2 


Nor he, whose form too bright, whose look too kind, 

Cloak'd well the savage purpose of his mind, 

This heartless, cruel man, had never prest 

My father's threshold, a perfidious guest ! 

Lost as I am, what path, what hopes remain ? 

Shall I my native mountains seek again ? 

Ah ! the wide depth of ocean's pathless roar 

Bars my approach ; and dare I hope once more 

My sire's affection, whom I left to wed 

The reeking murderer of my brother dead ? 

Can love's sweet musings any solace give, 

Or pictur'ed truth, or promised rapture live ; 

When the dear youth, on whom this heart relied, 

Forsakes my bed and flies o'er yonder tide ? 

No home, no busy cots around me smile, 

And seas confine me to this hapless isle. 

No means, no hope of flight, no living breath, 

All round is desert, but all big with death. 

" But yet, ere fate shall close my languid eye. 
Ere from my woe -worn breast my senses fly ; 
I from the gods some ample curse will claim 
On him who outraged their attested name ; 
"Will still, betray'd, invoke their awful power, 
And pray for vengeance in my latest hour. 

",Ye, who avenge their crimes on all mankind. 
Furies, whose hair with angry snakes entwined 
Paint on the threatening brow the heU-born breast, 
Haste, hither haste, and hear my fell request. 
'Tis helpless frenzy, senseless, blind despair ; 
Teach me, 'tis all that 's left, my frantic prayer ; 
Rend from my secret heart each cold restraint, 
And pour forth all my soul in my complaint. 
Since then it warmly flows from heartfelt pain, 
Let me not speak my rage, my grief in vain ; 
But grant, that still the reckless, ruthless mind 
Which made him fly, and leave a wretch behind, 
May guide, may urge his life with headlong pace, 
Till Theseus curse alike himself and all his race." 

As from her burning breast this prayer she pour'd, 
And vengeful penance on his crime implored, 


The heavenly ruler, Jove, all-powerful god ! 
Nodded his stern assent ; and at that nod 
Earth and wild ocean tremhled, and on high 
The glistening stars were shaken in the sky. 
Then dark oblivion every thought supprest 
Which Theseus yet had treasured in his breast : 
Of the fond precepts he had long revered 
He kept no memory, and no sign he rear'd, 
No wish'd-for signal, that his sire might learn 
His glorious triumph and his safe return. 

For story tells, that Egeus, when the fleet 
Unmoor'd to leave Minerva's favour'd seat. 
Ere yet he launch'd him on the boisterous wave. 
Embraced his son, and this injunction gave. 

" My son, my only child, more dear than life. 
Son I am forced to send 'mid deadly strife ; 
Oh ! late restored to cheer my closing day, 
While age yet lingers in its last decay ! 
Since niy stern doom and thy too generous heart 
Parts thee from me ; alas ! how loth to part ! 
While these weak eyes of fastly-dying flame 
Yet long to gaze upon thy manly frame ; 
I do not send thee forth with hope elate, 
Nor shalt thou bear the garb of prosperous fate. 
Let me with dust strew my grey temples o'er ; 
Let all its sighs my swelling bosom pour : 
Then will I hang to your loose yards on high 
Funereal sails dark with Iberian dye ; 
And let their hue proclaim to every wind 
The black despair and misery of my mind. 

" But should the goddess in Itone known, 
Pallas, who still protects our race and throne. 
Propitious grant thy conquering arm to stain 
In gushing life-blood of the monster slain ; 
Then heed, my son, that treasured in thy heart 
This precept live, nor e'er with time depart. 
Soon as these hills once more thine eyes shall hail. 
Let every yard cast oif its gloomy sail ; 
And hoisted high in air let every rope 
With snow-white canvass greet thy father's hope. 

246 CATITLLtrS. 

I still shall watch, and I the first be blest, 
If happier days give thee return and rest." 

Theseus had kept these words in memory bright 
'Mid peril's turmoil, and through love's delight ; 
Now light as clouds, when tempests rudely sweep 
The sky-hid summit of some frozen steep, 
They fled his mind, nor bless'd the prosperous time, 
Forgot in safety's hour and victory's prime. 
Wearing with constant tears his eager sight, 
His sire still watch'd upon the rampart's height, 
Saw the dark sails the clear horizon stain, 
Madden'd with thoughts of Theseus fiercely slain, 
And from the lofty rock plunged headlong to the main. 

Thus, when his natal threshold Theseus prest, 
A father's death reproach'd his reckless breast. 
Scarce less his woe, scarce lighter was his care 
Than he had heap'd on the deserted fair ; 
Whose hopeless gaze there linger'd to descry 
His sails just fading into viewless sky, 
While, broken-hearted, in her thoughts she drew 
All shapes of woe and miseries ever new. 

On the rich covering from another part. 

With love for thee high raging in his heart. 

Thee seeking, Ariadne, Bacchus young 

Hurries with flying steps the shores along. 

Before his path the Satjrrs madly prance. 

The gay Sileni, Nysa's ofispring, dance ; 

Wild sporting round him range the frantic rout. 

And toss their brows, and Eva, Evje ! shout. 

Some brandish high their ivy-cover'd spears ; 

Some tear the quivering limbs from mangled steers ; 

Some round their waists enwrithing serpents tie ; 

Some with their stores from ozier caskets ply 

Those fearful orgies, that high mystic rite 

That 's ever hid from uninitiate sight ; 

Some their lank arms on echoing timbrels dash ; 

Some from the cymbals their thin tinklings clash ; 

Some wake the trumpet's hoarser blast and strife, 

Or the sharp note of the discordant fife. 


Such were the portraitures profusely spread 

O'er the rich covering of the nuptial hed. 

Pall'd with the sight the throng now bending home 

Left for celestial guests the festal dome. 

As when young Zephyr flits across the plain, 

Rippling with early breath the placid main ; 

What time Aurora smiles on day begun 

With all the freshest glory di the sun ; 

Soft break the waves, and low their laughing sound. 

But soon with blasts increasing swell around, 

And loud and louder roar, and far away 

Raging toss back the purple beams of day ; 

So the close crowd, that left the palace, spread, 

And wide dispersing urged their quickening tread. 

Chiron the first, when all the dome was still, 
His rural offering bore from Pelion's hill. 
Whatever flowers the meads produce, whate'er 
Thessalia's broad and fertile mountains bear, 
Whatever blossom some poor streamlet near 
The tepid breezes of Favonius rear, 
He brought in chaplets of promiscuous bloom ; 
And aU the palace breathed their glad perfume. 

Then Peneus came from Tempe's verdant glades, 

Tempe, encircled by o'erhanging shades. 

Where Nessos' lovely maids their carols pour. 

Peneus the towering beech uprooted bore. 

The plane, whose leaves in every zephyr play. 

The lofty cypress, and the tapering bay. 

And that tall tree whose form the sisters fair 

Of blasted Phaeton were doom'd to bear. 

These round the dome he placed, a blooming screen, 

And veil'd the porch with interwoven green. 

Next came Prometheus, rich in craftiest lore. 
Who yet faint marks of ancient penance bore ; 
When erst his limbs in flinty bondage stiff 
' Were hung extended on the dizzy cliff. 

Then with his sacred queen and all his race 
The sire of gods the palace deign'd to grace ; 

248 CATutLus. 

All, save thee, Phcebus, and thy sister bright. 
The sylvan huntress upon Ida's height ; 
Alike ye Peleus both beheld with scorn, 
Nor Thetis' nuptials would as guests adorn. 
Soon as the glorious host were seated round, 
A lavish feast the costly table crown'd ; 
Then through their frames while aged tremors ran, 
The ancient Fates their prescient song began. 
Round their weak bodies a white robe was flung, 
Whose crimson border o'er their ankles hung ; 
Their purple locks with snowy bands were tied ; 
And ay6 their hands the sacred labour plied. 
The left the distaff grasp'd, the right hand drew 
The wool from thence, and twisted in the clew, 
On the bent thumb the winding spindle held, 
And as the whirlwind moves its course impeh'd. 
Still as they spun they bit off every shred 
That roughly hung about the new-made thread ; 
And the coarse fibres rent in ragged strips 
Clung white and dry upon their shrivell'd lips. 
Rush-baskets held of wo6l a snowy choice : 
Still as they toil'd they pour'd a piercing voice, 
And hymn'd prophetic destiny's behest, 
Whose truth all future ages shall attest. 

" Peleus, Emathia's stay, and virtue's care, 
Renown'd thyself and glorious in thine heir, 
Hear on thy nuptial day the Sisters sing 
The splendid destiny that time shall bring ; 
And, spindles, speed, so life and fate are sped ; 
Speed ye, who ceaseless draw the mortal thread ! 

" Hesper, who gives the bridegroom's sweetest right, 
Shall lead thy bride with his auspicious light : 
Then she and Love, Love that all hearts obey. 
Shall make thy soul in bliss dissolve away ; 
Fix'd round thy neck her smooth embrace will keep. 
And both in soothing languor sink to sleep. 
O spindles, speed, thus love and life are sped ; 
Speed ye, who ceaseless twine the vital thread ! 

" No festal palace e'er such loves possess'd. 
No loves were ever by such nuptials bleat, 


As those that Peleus to his Thetis wed. 

Ye spindles, speed, who draw the vital' thread ! 

" Achilles' birth shall bless your fond career, 

Of heart unstrung to know the touch of fear. 

Ne'er his receding back, but well the foe 

His breast exposed, and fierce attack, shall know : 

He, in the devious race for ever first. 

Shall leave behind the stag's most fiery burst. 

Ye spindles, speed, so life and fate are sped ; 

Speed ye, who ceaseless twine the vital thread ! 

" No other warrior equal fame shall gain, 
When Trojan gore shall Phrygian rivers stain ; 
And perjured Pelops' grandson shall destroy 
With weary siege the towering walls of Troy. 
Speed, spindles, speed, thus life and fate are sped ; 
Speed ye, who ceaseless draw the mortal thread ! 

" His valour oft, his ever dauntless breast 
Shall mothers' grief o'er children's biers attest ; 
While each with diist her hoary forehead strows. 
And beats her livid breast with trembling blows. 
Ye spindles, speed, thus fate and death are sped ; 
Speed ye, who ceaseless draw the fatal thread ! 

" As, when the corn by autumn's heat is brown'd. 
The reaper strews the crowded stalks around ; 
Thus shall his sword the falling Trojans spread. 
Speed ye, who ceaseless draw the mortal thread ! 

" Scamander's waves, in hurrying eddies tost. 
That roll to Hellespont, and there are lost, 
Shall see his glorious deeds, his deadly force ; 
When heaps of slain shall narrow all its course. 
When its encumber'd stream the shore shall flood. 
And all its depths shall glow with reeking blood. 
Speed, spindles, speed, thus fate and death are sped ; 
Speed ye, who ceaseless draw the fatal thread ! 

" At length the virgin too, by victoi-y's doom, 
Shall fall to grace his obsequies and tomb : 
There shall her snowy hmbs, an offering laid, 
Attest his glory and appease his shade. 


Speed, spindles, speed, so love and death are sped ; 
Speed ye, who ceaseless twine the fatal thread ! 

" When to the war-worn Greeks by fraud shall faE 
Neptune's proud work, the sacred Trojan wall ; 
Then on his tomb Polyxena shall kneel, 
A victim stooping to the two-edged steel ; 
Shall there, a headless corpse, her life-blood pour, 
And dye the sepulchre with maiden gore. 
Speed, spindles, speed, thus love and life are sped ; 
Speed ye, who ceaseless draw the fatal thread ! 

" Then haste, let wedlock's blissful knot be tied ; 
Receive, great Peleus, thine immortal bride : 
Now lead the fair one to the bridegroom's bed, 
And, spindles, speed, and twine the vital thread ! 

" Her nurse the morrow's morn shall find too tight 
The band that girds her slender neck to-night. 
Speed, spindles, speed, thus love and life are sped ; 
Speed ye, who ceaseless twine the vital thread ! 

" Ne'er shall the mother mourn, their passion o'er, 
The separate homes and bride beloved no more ; 
Nor see her hopes of playful grandsons fled. 
Still, spindles, speed, thus life and fate are sped ; 
Speed, ever ceaseless speed, and twine the mortal thread ! 

Such was the bliss to Peleus which of old 
In lofty song the prescient Fates foretold. 
For oft, while piety was yet revered 
By pristine man, the gods on earth appear'd ; 
And, entering oft some hero's pure abode. 
To human crowds immortal beauty show'd. 

Oft heaven's dread father, when the festal day 
Would to his name its yearly rite display. 
Himself would visit the resplendent fane. 
And see his hundred chariots scour the plain. 
Oft from Parnassus Bacchus drove his flocks 
Of Thyads rev'Uing with dishevell'd locks ; 
When all the Delphians'from their city pour'd, 
And glad with smoking shrines the god adored. 


Oft 'mid the deadly warfare, proudly seen, 
Would horrid Mars, or rapid Triton's queen, 
Or Nemesis, Ehamnusian maid, incite 
Their armed throngs to brave the thickest fight. 
But when this earth with impious crime was stain'd, 
When virtue fled from man, and passion reign'd ; 
When brothers dyed their hands in brothers' gore ; 
When children wept a parent's death no more ; 
When the harsh father sigh'd for early fate 
To snatch the first-born of his buried mate ; 
And leave him free from fonder ties, to press 
Some blooming stepdame in his faint caress ; 
When e'en the mother, warm'd by youthful charms, 
Lured her unconscious offspring to her arms ; 
Bade incest's curse her household gods condemn. 
Impious alike to nature and to them ; 
When rival honour crime and virtue knew ; 
Their favour justly all the gods withdrew ; 
No more to visit sinful earth would deign. 
Nor let the eye of man their forms profane. Lamb. 


No peasant tills the fields ; the steers are eased 

Of the neck-gaUing yoke ; no bull upturns 

With downward sloping share the mouldering glebe ; 

Discolouring rust soils the deserted plough, 

Nor the bent rake clears from the creeping vine 

The crumbling earth ; nor he that prunes the bough 

Lops with his lightening hook the leafy tree. 

The palace, through its inner space discern'd 

Of long receding halls, shone gorgeously 

With gold and burnish'd silver ; couches gleam'd 

Whitening with ivory ; tables glitter'd thick 

With goblets ; all the splendid mansion laugh'd 

With regal opulence. The couch, prepared 

In the mid chamber for the goddess bride, 

Rose high with plumy cushions. It was carved 

From teeth of Indie elephants, and spread 

With the shell purple's crimson of the sea. 


The tapestried covering, -wrought with antique forms 

Of men, display'd heroic lore, in threads 

Of wondrous art. For there upon the shore 

Long echoing to the flowing sound of waves 

Stood Ariadne, casting a far look 

On Theseus as in rapid bark he pass'd 

Away ; and pangs of furious wild despair 

Master'd her throbbing heart. Nor yet believed 

That she was Ariadne j while scarce waked 

From her deceiving sleep, she saw herself 

Left wretched on the solitary sands. 

The youth, who could forget her, flying beat 

The billows with his oars, and left his vows 

Light scatter'd to the winds and to the storms. 

Him when the princess from the weedy shore 

Discern'd remote, she bent her straining eyes. 

In posture like the statue of a nymph 

Nodding in Bacchic orgies ; troubled thoughts 

Rush'd on her soul, like waves; nor suffer'dshe 

The slender mitre on her yellow hair ; 

Or the transparent scarf that o'er her breast 

Spread light its covering ; or the girdle's grasp 

'Gainst which her bosom's struggling orbs rebell'd ; 

But all torn wildly off from all her form 

Lay strewn on every side, and the salt seas. 

White foaming at her feet, broke over them. 

She nor her mitre, nor her floating zone 

Regarded aught : on thee, O Theseus ! — still 

On thee she dwelt with heart and mind and soul 

Distracted. Ah ! unhappy one ! how grief 

And senseless frenzy seized her ! and what thorns 

Of anguish Venus planted in her breast ! 

In that heroic age did Theseus leave 

Piraeus' winding bay, and visited 

The Cretan walls of that inhuman king. 

For legends tell that Athens, erst constrain'd 

By cruel pestilence, atoned the death 

Of slain Androgeos ; and a tribute sent 

Of chosen youths, and maids in beauty's flower. 

To glut the monstrous Minotaur. When thus 

The noble city underneath it^ curse 


G-roan'd heavily, the gallant Theseus chose 

To perish self-devoted, in behalf 

Of his dear Athens, rather than these maids 

Find graves in Crete, yet need a funeral rite. 

So, in light bark, with gentle breeze he sail'd 

To awful Minos, and his stately court. 

When on the stranger fell the eager gaze 

Of that same royal virgin, who reposed 

Within her mother's arms, on pillow chaste 

That breathed sweet perfumes, like the myrtle buds 

On green Eurotas' river-banks, or breath 

Of the spring gale, that draws the colours forth 

From all the streaky flowers. No sooner then 

The gazing maid withdrew her glowing eyes. 

And bent them on the floor, than all her breast 

Conceived a flame, and aU her vitals burn'd. 

Oh sacred boy ! that, merciless of heart, 
Troublest, alas, how cruelly ! the soul 
With passion's fury, yet with human griefs 
Minglest delights ; and thou, Venus ! queen 
Of Golgos and Idalia's leafy lawns ; 
With what a sea of troubles did ye toss 
The maiden's heart i with what a flame consume ! 
When for the stranger of the yellow locks 
She drew fuU many a sigh. How languish'd she 
In heart-struck terrors ! how her cheek grew pale 
With yellowing tinge, like the wan shine of gold, 
When Theseus, match'd against the monster, sought 
Death or the palm of glory ! Nor to heaven 
Vow'd she unpleasing offerings, though to her 
Fruitless ; nor vainly on her silent lips 
Whisper'd suspended hopes. For as the blast 
Of irresistible whirlwind with a rush 
Of sudden eddy shakes a branching oak 
On the Mount Taurus ; or cone-rustling pine, 
Dropping with gum ; and smites the knotted trunk ; 
Wrench'd from the roots, the tree falls headlong down. 
And crushes aU beneath it : with such force 
Did Theseus quell the savage prostrated 
In dust, and beating with his horns the wind. 


Then, in his glory, he secure retraced 

His footsteps, governing with silken skein 

His wandering feet ; lest measuring forth his way 

From winding of the labyrinth, he should err, 

Foil'd by the cunning edifice, that spread 

Its undiscoverable maze around. 

But why, thus starting from my theme, recount 

Superfluous tales ? how Ariadne left 

Her father's aspect, and her sister's kiss, 

And mother's folding arms ; who, wretched made. 

Should with flush'd weeping mourn her daughter lost ? 

But Theseus' love was dearer than them all. 

Or how the ship was wafted to the shore 

Of Naxos' foaming isle ; or how, when closed 

Her heavy eyes in that disastrous sleep, 

Ingrate he fled, and left her. — Oft, they say, 

With burning indignation she pour'd forth 

Shrill outcries from the bottom of her heart ; 

Climb'd sad the steepy mountains, and threw out 

A long glance o'er the vast and foamy deep ; 

Or on the flat shore ran amidst the waves. 

That swell'd their rippling surface opposite. 

From her bared leg lifting the drapery light ; 

Then, in extremity of anguish, spoke 

These wild upbraidings, with her cheek all bathed 

In tears, while shivering sobs confused her words: 

"And is it thus, perfidious man ! led far 
From my own country, thou forsak'st me now, 
Perfidious Theseus ! on a desert shore ? 
And dost thou then depart, of watchful gods 
Heedless, and ah ! bear with thee to thy home 
Those vows, accurs'd by me ? Could nothing turn 
Thy cruel purpose ? did no sudden thought 
Of pity cross thee ? did thy hard heart feel 
No soft, compunctious visitings for me ? 
Not such thy utter'd promises ; not these 
The hopes thy lips convey'd to me undone ; 
But wedding joys and wishes all fulfiU'd 
Of marriage love : now to the winds of air 
Blown and dispers'd ! Let never woman trust 


The oath of man ; let never woman hope 

Faith in his tender speeches ! He, while aught 

Inflames his ardour to possess, will fear 

No oath, will spare no promise. But when once 

His gust is sated, fears not what he spoke ; 

Heeds not his perjured promise. Yet 'twas I 

That from death's whirlpool snatch'd thee, and resolved 

To sacrifice my brother Minotaur, 

That I might spend with thee life's latest hour. 

Deceiver as thou art ! — and 'tis for this 

That forest beasts must tear me ; birds of prey 

Dismember ; and no heap of friendly earth 

Be scatter'd o'er my corpse ! — What lioness 

In wilderness of rocks first brought thee forth ? 

What sea conceived thee in its roaring depths, 

And from its foaming billows cast thee out ? 

Syrt, Scylla, or Charybdis, which, or what 

Art 'thou, that for the sweets of life bestow'd 

Mak'st this return ? But if thy heart repell'd 

Union with me ; and if to thee seem stern 

The laws of marriage which old Cecrops framed ; 

Thou couldst at least have brought me to thy home, 

That I with pleasant labour might have been 

Thy handmaid ; tenderly thy snowy feet 

Laving in limpid waters, or thy couch 

Spreading with purple coverings. Ah ! what boots 

This frenzy of misfortune ? Why complain 

To the unconscious air, that neither hears 

My utter'd speech, nor can in words reply ? 

He now has nearly pass'd the middle seas ; 

And not one solitary mortal meets 

My gaze along the ocean's weedy shore ; 

And Fate, insulting even my dying hour, 

Envious denies the blessing of complaint 

To listening ears. Oh, mighty Jupiter ! 

Wpuld that in time long past no ships had touch'd 

From Athens on our coast ; no mariner 

With dreadful tribute to the bull had loosed 

His cable, and, perfidious, sail'd for Crete ! 

Nor e'er that stranger, masking in sweet form 

His cruel purpose, rested in my home ! 


Whither shall I betake me ? on what hope 

Lean for support ? Say, shall I seek again 

The hills of Cretan Ide ? ah me ! the deep 

EoUs broad its severing flood, and cruel forms 

Of the wide seas a gulf impassable. 

Or might I hope my father's succouring hand ? 

I, who could leave him, following this stern youth 

While reeking with niy brother's sprinkled blood ? 

Shall I console my sorrows with the love 

Of that so faithful spouse, while now his oars 

Bend pliant in the billows, as he flies ? 

Shall I pass inland, and forsake the shore ? 

No dwelling has this lone, unpeopled isle : 

There is no egress hence ; the sea-waves roll 

A girdle round ; no plan, no hope of flight ; 

All solitary, silent, desolate ; 

A prospect of inevitable death. 

But let not yet my dying eyes grow dim. 

Nor sense my faint limbs leave, ere, thus betray'd, 

I ask the gods for vengeance, and attest 

With my last breath the holy faith of heaven. 

Ye, then, that with retributive revenge 

Visit the deeds of men ; whose forehead 'twined 

With snaky hair, waves with th' avenging wrath 

Of my expiring breast, arise and hear ! 

Come to my side : come listen the complaints. 

Which, oh me miserable ! I perforce 

Now from my inmost vitals breathe, thus lost, 

Burning, and blind with my delirious rage. 

Since from the very bottom of my heart 

I heave this plaintive voice, oh suiFer not 

My tears and groans to vanish on the winds ! 

But in the spirit that within him wrought, 

When he forsook me on the desert shore. 

In that same spirit, deadly to himself 

And to his kindred, let him stain his house 

With horror and pollution." 

When she thus 
Had given her sorrows utterance, and had call'd 
In her distraction heavenly vengeance down 
On Theseus' cruel deed, heaven's ruler bow'd 


His head, and at his unresisted nod 
Earth and sea trembled, and the firmament 
Rock'd its bright orbs. But Theseus, dark of mind, 
Dismiss'd from memory all injunctions past. 
Though long with heed retain'd : nor lifted up 
The gladdening symbol, that he safe return'd 
To his own country's harbours, in the eyes 
Of his long sorrowing father. Story tells 
That when old ^geus trusted to the winds 
His son, who bent his galley's sails to leave 
Minerva's towers, he clasp'd him in his arms. 
And gave this mandate : — 

" Oh, my only son ! 
More pleasant in mine eyes than length of life : 
My son ! whom I, perforce, dismiss to cope 
With doubtful perils ; son ! so lately lent 
Again to these fond arms, in the last stage 
Of feeble years : since now my mournful hap 
And thy own fervid valour tear thee hence 
From these unwilling eyes, whose languid orbs 
Still gaze unsated on my son's dear face ; 
Not glad I send thee hence ; nor shalt thou bear 
Symbols of prosperous Fortune. I will ease 
My bosom of complaint, and soil in dust 
My hoary locks ; and on thy flitting mast 
Suspend discolour'd sails ; that this my grief 
And soul-inflaming anguish may be read 
In thy Iberian canvass, while its folds 
Are tinged with dusky blue. If she, who dwells 
In blest Itonus, Pallas, who defends 
Our race and city, grant that in the blood 
Of that half human bull thy hand be red ; 
Then bury these injunctions in thy heart ; 
Let them take growth, and flourish, so that time 
May never root them out. Soon as thine eyes 
Behold our hills again, then let thy crew 
The dismal canvass on the yard-arm furl. 
And hoist with ropes the sails of snowy white : 
That, seeing, I may recognise the joy 
Of that blest moment, when auspicious time 
Eetums thee present to mine eyes again." 


These mandates, which before with constant mind 
He cherish'd, now from Theseus' memory fled, 
Like mists from airy ridge of snowy Alp 
Swept by the whirlwind. Still the father bent 
From a high turret's top his straining eyes. 
Anxious, and dim with weeping. When he saw 
The sable swelling sails, from the steep rocks 
He cast himself down headlong ; deeming then 
His Theseus lost by an inhuman death. 
So Theseus, glorying in the monster slain, 
Enter'd beneath his father's roof, now changed 
With funeral horror ; and himself now felt 
A portion of that anguish, which, ingrate 
Of soul, he fix'd in Ariadne's breast : 
When, wounded to the heart, a thousand griefs 
EoU'd in her bosom, while she pensive bent 
On the receding ship her lengthening gaze. 

But in another part, lacchus, flush'd 
With bloom of youth, came flying from above. 
With choirs of Satyrs, and Sileni, born 
In Indian Nyse : seeking thee he came, 
O Ariadne ! with thy love inflamed. 
They, blithe, from every side came revelling on, 
Distraught with jocund madness : with a burst 
Of Bacchic outcries, and with tossing heads. 
Some shook their ivy-shrouded spears ; and some 
From hand to hand, in wild and fitful feast, 
Snatch'd a torn heifer's limbs : some girt themselves 
With twisted serpents : others bore along, 
In hollow arks, the mysteries of the god : 
Mysteries to uninitiated ear 
In silence wrapt. On timbrels others smote 
With tapering hands, or from smooth orbs of brass 
Clank'd shriU a tinkling sound ; and many blew 
The horn's hoarse blare, and the barbaric pipe 
Bray'd hai'sh upon the ear its dinning tune. 

Thus gorgeously with colour'd figures wrought 
The drapery spread its mantling folds, and veil'd 
With arras coverlet the wedding couch. 


When now the throng of Thessaly had gazed 
Their eager fill, they rev'rently gave place 
To step of gods approaching. As the gale, 
Euffling the calm sea with its murm'ring breeze, 
Stirs the sloped waves, at rising of the dawn, 
Beneath the flitting lustre of the sun : 
They, forward driven vrith gentle blast, roll on 
Slowly, and as with sounds of laughter shrill 
Dash their soft echo ; till the growing wind 
Freshens, and more and more in heaving swell 
They float far glittering in the purple light : 
So from the palace vestibule the throng 
Flow'd gradual forth, and wander'd wide away. Elton. 


Though grief, my Hortalus, that wastes Ay heart, 
Forbids the culture of the learned Nine ; 

Nor can the Muses with their sweetest art 
Inspire a bosom worn with grief like mine ; 

For Lethe laves my brother's clay-cold foot, 
His spirit lingers o'er its lazy wave ; 

The Trojan earth at high Ehetssum's root 
O'erwhelms his relics in a distant grave ! 

Shall I then never, in no future year, 
O brother, dearer far that vital breath ! 

See thee again ? yet will I hold thee dear, 
And in sad strains for ever mourn thy death. 

Such as the Daulian bird so sadly pours ; 

As, in some gloomy grove, whose branches crost 
Inweave their shade, she still at night deplores 

The hapless destinies of Itys lost. 

Yet not forgetting thy request, my friend. 
My love awhile can anguish disregard ; 

And, though opprest by heaviest woe, I send 
These lines, the chosen of Gyrene's bard, 
s 2 


Lest, vainly borue upon the zephyrs swift, 

Thou deem'st thy wishes fled my thought and care ; 

As the dear apple, love's clandestine gift, 
Falls from the bosom of the virgin fair ; 

Which she forgetting in her vest conceal'd. 
Springs her returning mother's kiss to claim, 

It falls, and as it rolls to view reveal'd. 

Her blushes own, like me, neglect and shame. Lamb. 



(the hair speaks.) 

CoNOif, who knew the lights of yonder skies. 

Told how the constellations set and rise ; 

How the sun's glorious beam is clouded o'er ; 

How stars at certain times are seen no more •> 

How love calls Dian from her orbit's place 

To steal in Latmos' cave the mute embrace ; 

He first mark'd me with heavenly light o'erspread, 

The honours once of Berenice's head : 

Which she, with arms outstretch'd in suppliant love, 

Vow'd to devote to many gods above ; 

What time the king, scarce past the nuptial rite, 

Warm from th' unequal contest of the night, 

Flush'd with its spoil and proud of amorous wounds, 

Had led his warriors to Assyria's bounds. 

Do brides, O Venus ! hate the bridal bed. 

Or feign the tears they oft profusely shed, 

The tears that parents gladly mark arise 

At wedlock's summons in a daughter's eyes ; 

That to their doting hearts pay every debt 

Of love, of gratitude, and fond regret ? 

Yes, by the gods, feign'd are the tears they shed 

To grace the nuptial rite and bridal bed ! 

This truth my mistress taught, who wept each day 

While war detain'd her youthful spouse away. 

But, queen, thy sorrows did not mourn alone 

A bridegroom's loss and nuptial rapture flown ; 


When from thy brother-husband forced to part, 
A sister's purer love usurp'd thy heart: 
That virtuous grief devour'd her pensive mind ; 
Reason, by that subdued, all sway resign'd : 
Then sunk that spirit, which had earn'd the praise 
Of dauntless valour e'en in childish days. 

Hadst thou forgotten the great deed, which won 
A royal spouse, a deed yet dared by none ; 
Jove ! that at parting thou couldst weakly plain, 
While tears, still vainly dried, still gush'd again ? 
What mighty god transform'd thee ? Could the woe 
Which every lover must in absence know. 
Make thee thus promise to the heavenly throne, 
Nor wonted blood nor hecatombs alone. 
But bid the lovesick offering e'en embrace 
Thy temple's shade and forehead's wavy grace. 
That heaven might speed thy lord's returning hour, 
And Asia's nation bow to Egypt's power ? 
He conquer'd and return'd. — The vow was paid, 
And heaven received the sweet oblation made. 
Eeluctant, queen, by thee and by thy brow ! 
(Evil to him who heeds not such a vow !) 
I swear, reluctant from that brow I fell. 
But what can iron's mighty strength repel ? 
For e'en that mountain, that the tallest height 
In Greece o'ertopp'd by swift Hyperion's light, 
E'en Athos yielded when the Median host 
Form'd a new ocean on the wondering coast. 
And through its hills their gorgeous navy bore 
The youth barbaric to the Grecian shore. 
.Could feeble hair that potent metal brave 
Which cleaves the mountain, and directs the wave ? 

Accursed, O Jove, be all the Scythian race. 
And they who, daring first her veins to trace, 
Earth's hidden product from her entrails tore, 
And shaped and harden' d the destructive ore ! 

The sister locks I left bewail'd my fate. 
When Ethiop Memnon's brother, Flora's mate, 


Fanning the yielding air with pennons fleet, 

Toung Zephyr sought Arsinoe's sacred seat. 

Through gloomy night he hurried me away 

To the pure regions of ethereal day ; 

On Venus' bosom placed me then to rest, 

And drink celestial nature from her breast. 

Such, where Canopus crowns the fertile wave, 

The mandate Flora to her Zephyr gave. 

" Permit no more," she cried, " the Cfown, that shed 

Its radiance erst round Ariadne's head, 

Alone in heaven to lift its lovely flame. 

Nor any star possess congenial fame : 

Bid the rich spoil of Berenice's brow 

Dart rival beams and share that glory now." 

To heaven the goddess raised me, bathed in tears. 

An added splendour to the starry spheres. 

Betwixt the Lion and the Virgin chaste, 

Close to Lycaon's child Callisto placed, 

Turn'd from the east, I slow Bootes guide 

In tardy progress to the western tide. 

I stud that way, in that bright path I lie, 

Oft pass'd by gods when journeying o'er the sky : 

When night is still, and dark the solar blaze, 

They tread my light, and trample on my rays ; 

But dawn returning bids me Tethys greet. 

And hide my splendour in her cool retreat. 

But still — and let me. Nemesis, reveal 

In peace the truth no terror shall conceal ; 

Let every star reproachful curses dart, 

I will unfold the secret of my heart ! 

Though high 'mid heaven's immortal splendour placed, 

I still regret the fair whom erst I graced. 

Upon her polish'd brows, while yet a maid, 

Unbraided, unperfumed, my ringlets stray'd ; 

And drank the breath in wedlock's costlier hours 

Of rarest unguents and the balmiest flowers. 

And, O yei fair ! allured by Hymen's light. 

Ere yet the husband gains his dearest right. 

Ere your smooth bosoms heave from cincture free. 

Let sweets in rich libation flow to me. 


Dear is the incense on my altar spread 

By all who seek the chaste, the nuptial bed ; 

But the foul offering of disgraceful lust 

Shall sink forgotten in the barren dust : 

Adulterers' gifts with loathing I reject, 

Nor prize their worship, nor their love protect. 

But bliss and passion ever young reside 

With the fond bridegroom and the faithful bride. 

But, queen, when thou shalt gaze upon the skies. 

And bid thine orisons to Venus rise, 

Though blood must never stain the Paphian shrine ; 

Hope not by prayers alone to make me thine : 

With purest offerings urge thy costly vows. 

And speed my wish'd return to deck thy brows. 

There wiU I wave, nor heed what ills betide. 

Though dark Orion seek Aquarius' side. 

And constant storms and elemental wars 

Proclaim the wild disorder of the stars. Lamb. 


The sage who view'd the shining heav'ns on high, 
Explored the glories of th' expanded sky ; 
Whence rise the radiant orbs, where stiU they bend 
Their wand'ring course, and where at length descend ; 
Why dim eclipse obscures the blazing sun ; 
Why stars at certain times to darkness run ; 
How Trivia nightly stole from realms above 
To taste on Latmos' rocks the sweets of love. 
Immortal Conon, blest with skill divine, 
Amid the sacred skies beheld me shine, 
Ev'n me, the beauteous hair, that lately shed 
Refulgent beams from Berenice's head ; 
The lock she fondly vow'd with lifted arms, 
Imploring aU the powers to save from harms 
Her dearer lord, when from his bride he flew, 
To wreak stern vengeance on th' Assyrian crew ; 
While yet the monarch bore the pleasing scars 
Of softer triumphs and nocturnal wars. 

O sacred queen, do virgins stiU despise 
The joys of Venus and the nuptial ties. 


When oft in bridal rooms their sighs and tears 
Distract the parent's heart with anxious fears ? 
The tears descend from friendly powers above; 
The sighs, ye gods ! are only sighs of love. 
With tears like these fair Berenice mourn'd 
When for her virgin spoils the monarch burn'd ; 
With sighs like these she gave him all her charms, 
And bless'd the raptured bridegroom in her arms. 

But on the widow'd bed you wept alone, 
And mourn'd the brother in the husband gone. 
What sorrow then my pensive queen opprest, 
What pangs of absence tore her tender breast ; 
When, lost in woe, no trace remain'd behind 
Of all her virgin mirth and strength of mind. . 
Hadst thou forgot the deed thy worth achieved, 
For which thy brows the imperial crown received ; 
The wondrous deed that placed thee far beyond 
Thy fair compeers and made a monarch fond ? 

But when for wars he left your tender arms. 

What words you spoke, with what endearing charms, 

Still breathed your soft complaints in mournful sighs. 

And wiped with lifted hands your streaming eyes. 

Didst thou, fair nymph, lament by power divine. 

Or for an absent lover only pine ? 

Then to the gods you vow'd with pious care 

A sacred oifering, your immortal hair, 

With blood of slaughter'd bulls, would heaven restore 

Tour lord in triumph to his native shore ; 

Should he, returning soon, with high renown 

Add vanquish'd Asia to the Egyptian crown : 

And I, fair lock, from orbs of radiance now 

Diffuse new light to pay thy former vow. 

But hear, O queen, the sacred oath I swear, 

By thy bright head, and yet remaining hair, 

I join'd unwilling the ethereal sphere ; 

And well I know what woes the perjured feel : 

But none can conquer unresisted steel. 

Steel heaved the mightiest mountain to the ground 

That Sol beholds in his diurnal round, 

CATULLUS. 265 !5 

Through Athos' rocky sides a passage tore, 
When first the Medes arrived at Phthia's shore. 
Then winds and waves drove their swift ships along, 
And through the new-made gulf impell'd the throng. 
If these withstood not steel's all-conquering blow. 
What could thy hairs against so dire a foe ? 
O mighty Jove ! may still thy wrath divine 
Pour fierce destruction on their impious line. 
Who dug with hands accurst the hollow mine ; 
Who first from earth could' shining ore produce, 
First temper'd steel, and taught its various use. 

As thy bright locks bewail'd their sister gone, 
Arsinoe's horseman, Memnon's only son. 
On flutt'ring wings descended from on high, 
To bear the beauteous hairs above the sky ; 
Then upward bent his flight, and softly placed 
Thy radiant lock in chaste Arsinoe's breast, 
Whom we Zephyritis and Venus name, 
And on Canopus' shores her altars flame ; 
When late the winged messenger came down 
At her desire, lest Ariadne's crown 
Should still unrivall'd glitter in' the skies ; 
And that thy precious hair, a richer prize, 
The spoils devoted to the powers divine. 
Might from the fields of light as brightly shine. 
Yet bathed in tears I wing'd my rapid flight. 
Swift from her shrine to this ethereal height, 
And, placed amidst the fair celestial signs. 
Thy lock for ever with new glory shines. 
Just by the Virgin in the starry sphere, 
The savage Lion, and the Northern Bear. 
Full to the west with sparkling beams I lead. 
And bright Bootes in my course precede. 
Who scarcely moves along the ethereal plain. 
And late and slowly sinks beneath the main. 

Though feet of gods surround my throne by night ; 
And in the seas I sleep with morning light. 
Yet, O Rhamnusian maid, propitious hear 
The words of sacred truth unawed by fear. 


The words of truth I wish not to conceal, 
But still the dictates of my breast reveal. 
Though these resplendent orbs in wrath should rise 
And hurl me headlong from the flaming skies, 
Though placed on high, sad absence I deplore, 
Condemn'd to join my lovely queen no more, 
On whose fair head, while yet in virgin bloom, 
I drank unmeasured sweets and rich perfume. 

But now, ye maids, and every beauteous dame. 
For whom on nuptial nights the torches flame, 
Though fondly wedded to some lovely boy. 
Your virgin choice, and partner of your joy. 
Forbear to taste the pleasures of a bride. 
Nor from your' bosoms draw the veU aside, 
Till oils in alabaster ye prepare. 
And chastely pour on Berenice's hair. 
But I th' impure adulteress will confound. 
And dash the ungrateful offering on the ground. 
From her no rich libation I demand ; 
I scorn the gift of her unhallow'd hand : 
But if the virtuous fair invoke my power. 
Unbounded bliss shall crown the nuptial hour ; 
To her shall concord from high heaven descend, 
And constant love her soft retreats attend. 

And when, bright queen, on solemn feasts your eyes 

Shall hail Arsinoe radiant in the skies ; 

When she demands, bright opening on your view, 

The sacred rites to heavenly Venus due ; 

If thy loved lock appear resplendent there. 

Let me with her an equal offering share. 

But why should these surrounding stars detain 

Thy golden hairs in this ethereal plain ? 

Oh could I join thy beauteous head once more, 

The sacred head on which I grew before ; 

Though I should ever lose my light divine. 

And moist Arcturus next tlie Virgin shine. Tttler. 

CATULLUS. 26t it 


Hail, door, to husband and to father dear ! 
And may Jove make thee his peculiar care ! 
Thou who, when Balbus lived, if fame say true, 
Wast wont a thousand sorry things to do ; 
And, when they carried forth the good old man, 
For the new bride who didst them o'er again ; 
Say, how have people this strange notion got. 
As if thy former faith thou hadst forgot ? 


So may Caecilius help me, whom 1 now 
Must own my master, as I truly vow ! — 
Be the oflfences talk'd of great or small ; 
Still I am free, and ignorant of all : 
I boldly dare the worst that can be said ; 
And yet, what charges to my fault are laid ! 
No deed so infamous, but straight they cry, 
" Fie, wicked door ! this is your doing, fie ! " 


This downright, bold assertion ne'er will do ; 
Tou must speak plainer, and convince us too. 

I would J — but how, when no one wants to know ? 


I want ; — collect your facts, and tell them now. 


First, then, I will deny, for so 'tis thought. 
That a young virgin to my charge was brought : 
Not that her husband, with ungovern'd flame. 
Had stolen, in hasty joy, that sacred name ; 
So vile his manhood, and so cold his blood. 
Poor, languid tool ! he could not, if he would : 
But his own father, 'tis expressly said. 
Had stain'd the honours of his nuptial bed ; 


Whether because, to virtue's image blind, 
Thick clouds of lust had darken'd all his mind ; 
Or, conscious of his son's unfruitful seed. 
He thought some abler man should do the deed. 


A pious deed, in truth ; and nobly done — 
A father makes a cuckold of his son ! 


Nor was this all that conscious Brixia knew ; 
Sweet mother of the country where I grew 
In earliest youth ! who, from Chineea's height. 
Sees boundless landscapes burst upon the sight ; 
Brixia ! whose sides the yellow Mela laves 
With the calm current of its gentle waves : 
She also knows what bliss Posthumius proved ; 
And how, in triumph, gay Cornelius loved ; 
With both of whom, so wanton was the fair, 
She did not blush her choicest gifts to share. 
" But how," you'll ask, "could you, a senseless door. 
These secrets, and these mysteries explore ; 
Who never from your master's threshold stirr'd, 
Nor what the people talk'd of ever heard ; 
Content upon your hinges to remain. 
To ope, and shut, and then to ope again." — 
Learn, that full oft I've heard the whispering fair. 
Who ne'er suspected I had tongue or ear, 
To her own slaves her shameful actions tell. 
And speak the very names I now reveal. 
One more she mention'd, whom I will not speak. 
Lest warm displeasure flush his angry cheek : 
Thus far I'll teU thee; he's an awkward brute. 
Whose spurious birth once caused no small dispute. 


The plaintive letter, Manlius, thou hast sent, 
While low by fate and sudden misery bent, 
That bids me raise thee from the whelming wave, 
And rescue from the threshold of the grave ; 

CATULLUS. 269 3 

Since mighty Venus lets not slumber shed 

Its lulling influence o'er thy lonely bed ; 

Nor all the verse, our tuneful sires' bequests, 

Can soothe thy mind where anguish never rests ; 

That hapless letter still my bosom cheers. 

Those lines are dear, though written with thy tears : 

For, ah ! they speak thy love, and bid me send 

Verse from the bard, affection from the friend. 

Think not I wish my duty to disown 

To the first friend my life has ever known ; 

But, Manlius, learn my own unhappy state ; 

Learn in how rough a sea of troublous fate 

I sink o'erwhelm'd ; nor ask from hopeless woe 

For gifts the happy only can bestow. , 

When the white robe of man I first assumed, 

When youth's light Spring with every pleasure bloom'd, 

Free were my sports, nor did that goddess spare, 

Who blends the bitter sweets of lovers' care. 

But all these joys my brother's death has torn 

From the lone wretch whom he hath left to mourn. 

Brother, thy death has wrapt my days in gloom. 

And all our house lies buried in thy tomb ; 

Thy friendship still my life with pleasures fed. 

And every pleasure now with thee is dead. 

His early fate has from my bosom chased 

All former joys, and all the mind can taste. 

Then cry not, " Shame, Catullus should be known 

To droop and linger in Verona's town. 

While any noble's frigid form partakes 

The warmth of that soft bed which hfe forsakes .! " 

No, Manlius, caR it not disgrace or shame. 

For keenest misery is the fitter name. 

Forgive me then, if thou shalt ask in vain 

The gifts that sorrow from myself has ta'en. 

No hoard of writers here their fires infuse. 

To guide my taste and cheer my drooping Muse : 

Few favourite volumes serve to fiU the void. 

And chase the gloom of leisure unemploy'd. 

Eome holds my home, my comfort, and my care, 

And life is only life when I am there. 


Then think not fretful envy prompts my part, 
Or gratitude is irksome to my heart ; 
Forced to refuse to each request of thine 
Gifts I had sent unask'd, had they been mine. 
Yet can I not, ye Nine, the tale repress, 
How Manlius still has toil'd my life to bless ; 
Nor let oblivious time its gloom extend 
O'er the dear memory of so true a friend. 
To you I speak his praise, do ye unfold 
To countless crowds the praises I have told. 
Let this time-honour'd verse for ever teU 
To future days the name I loved so well ; 
And when at length, alas ! his aged head 
Shall rest inurn'd among the noble dead, 
Wider and wider still his praise proclaim. 
When all of him that lives will be his fame. 
Thus, by its theme immortal, shaU my page 
Live still perused in every distant age ; 
Nor spider ever venture to profane 
With lazy web my laudatory strain. 

Ye know how Venus false my life oppress'd. 

With what destroying flame she scorch'd my breast. 

Hot as the fires that Etna's crater fill, 

Or Malia's springs that boil near Eta's hiU. 

With wasting tears my eyes were dim and weak, 

And sorrow's drops for ever bathed my cheek. 

As, springing on some mountain's airy throne. 

The crystal streamlet from the mossy stone 

Through the slope valley hurrying headlong down, 

Crosses the busy road to some rich town ; 

A blest refreshment to the trav'ller's toil. 

When arid heat has crack'd the fever'd soil. 

As, when through storms the sailor long has pray'd 

To Pollux now, and now for Castor's aid, 

Soft breathes the favouring air and calms the sea ; 

Such Manlius was, such help and bliss to me. 

When narrow bounds confined my poor domain. 

He made me master of a spacious plain ; 

He bounteous placed me in a rich abode, 

And the fond girl, whose love we shared, bestow'd. 

CATULLUS. . 271 

That home my goddess blest : that mansion bore 
Her graceful foot upon its tell-tale floor ; 
There oft her creaking sandal, sweet to hear, 
Foretold the fair one to her lover's ear. 

Thus erst, while love warm'd every blissful thought, 
Her husband's home Laodamia sought. 
Too eager bride ! No victim led to die 
Had yet propitiated the gods on high. 
(Thy power, dread Nemesis, hath still suppress'd 
All hopes unsanction'd by the heavens' behest : 
Hapless, who grasp, unless the gods approve. 
The proffer'd gift of glory, wealth, or love !) 
Soon did she learn how keen the thirsty fane 
Desires the sacred blood of victims slain, 
Forced from her parting husband's neck to tear 
The close embrace that long'd to linger there ; 
Ere yet two winters in their length of nights 
Had glutted passion with its own delights ; 
Or taught the bride, a strength how hard to give ! 
To lose the mate she loved, and yet to live. 
The Fates well knew this doom not distant far 
If the bold chieftain sought the Trojan war. 
For then had Troy by stealth of Helen's charms 
Eoused 'gainst herself the kings of Greece to arms. 
Troy, baleful, impious Troy ! the common grave 
Of Europe's warriors and of Asia's brave ! 
Troy, whose vast ruin the sad ashes boasts 
Of wisdom, valour, and unnumber'd hosts ! 
Troy, where my brother died, untimely torn 
From the lone wretch whom he has left to mourn ! 
Alas ! his eyes are closed in lasting gloom ! 
Brother, our house lies with thee in the tomb ; 
Thy friendship still my life with pleasures fed. 
And all my pleasures now with thee are dead. 
Not 'mid ancestral tombs for ages traced. 
Nor with the urns of kindred ashes placed ; 
But hateful Troy, Troy's melancholy plains 
Hold in ungenial soil thy loved remains. 
To Troy then hastening, the assembled band 
Of Grecian youth had left their native land, 


To burst on Paris with the din of arms, 

To rouse him from th' adulteress matron's charms ; 

Nor let his wrong its lawless rapture shed 

On days of quiet or a peaceful' bed. 

'Twas in that hour, that he, beloved too well, 
Thine heart-dear spouse, Laodamia, fell ; 
And wild despair with overwhelming flow 
Hurried thee down the deep abyss of woe. 
Less deep that gulf described in Grecian lands, 
Where Pheneus fltws and high Cyllene stands. 
Which pour'd the waste of waters through its drain, 
And gave to man the firm and fertile plain. 
Amphytrion's falsely-father'd son, they say, 
Through the broad mountain clove its lofty way. 
When, by a worthless lord's command employ'd. 
His darts the birds of Stymphalus destroy'd : 
'Twas for a throne in heaven his task he plied, 
And blooming Hebe for his virgin bride. 

How vast, how deep that gulf upon whose soil 
A slaving god had spent a lengthen'd toil ! 
More vast the love that warm'd thy bridal vows ; 
More deep thy sorrow for thy plighted spouse. 
Not to the sire so dear, when grey with years. 
The late-born son an only daughter rears ; 
Who, soon as first he draws the vital air, 
Named by his grandsire for bis only heir. 
Blasts the fond hopes that hungry kinsmen fed ; 
And drives like vultures from the hoary head. 
Not e'en so much the tender sports of love 
Please the soft partner of the snowy dove. 
Who still with fire, to which her mate's is weak. 
Plucks ceaseless kisses with a clinging beak. 
(Never can love to manly breasts impart 
The doting ardour of the female heart.) 
With all their fires thy glowing passion vied, 
When first the fair-hair'd warrior claim'd his bride. 

Thus erst, thy bright compeer in Ipve and charms, 
Light of my life, the damsel sought my arms ; 


While Cupid, then in saffron vest array'd, 
Hovering on sportive wing around her play'd. 
What though, too warm to freeze in rigid truth. 
Her love at times may bless some other youth ; 
Well may her favourite uncomplaining bear 
The stolen falsehoods of the modest fair. 
"Vex not your amorous lives with jealous pain, 
Juno, (if such compare be not profane,) 
Imperial Juno knew the lusts of Jove, 
Still daily false, yet view'd him stiU with love. 
Love, independent love, no care requires, 
No chilling sanction of intrusive sires ; 
For by no father's formal conduct brought, 
No Syrian odours fiU'd the home she sought; 
But on that wondrous night, all nights above ! 
She gave at once the fullest gift of love ; 
In that same night bestow'd, in that possess'd. 
Warm from her lawful bed and husband's breast. 
Enough that I that night of rapture pass'd. 
Enough, had e'en that rapture been my last ! 

This gift of verse, 'tis all I can, I send 
To pay the duties of a grateful friend : 
This grateful verse shall keep thy name and praise 
Known and revered through all succeeding days. 
To thee the gods will every boon supply 
Which Themis' self, in ages long gone by. 
Whom never softness sway'd nor favour woo'd, 
Heap'd on the wise, the pious, and the good. 

Then, Manlius, blest be thou, and blest be she. 

The fair, whose life is life and love to thee ! 

Blest be the lass, who, stUl of either fond, 

Link'd love and friendship in a common bond : 

Be e'en the mansion blest, whose walls contain'd 

Our fervid sports in passion unrestrain'd ; 

And he who made us friends, from whom hath grown 

The highest solace that my days have known ; 

And blest, more blest than all, that nymph divine, 

Whose life alone can still give bliss to mine. Lamb. 



Nat, wonder not that no gay nymph will twine 

In am'rous folds her tender frame with thine ! 

Nor think the costly vest, the gem's proud glare, 

Proffer'd by thee, yrill ever tempt the fair ! 

A sorry tale they tell ; that thou hast got 

Under thy arms a vile and filthy goat : 

Hence females fly ; nor strange — for never, sure. 

Can the sweet maid a beast in bed endure. 

Then, Rufus, first that noxious pest destroy ; 

Or cease to wonder why the nymphs are coy. Nott. 


My Fair says, she no spouse but me 
Would wed, though Jove himself were he. 

She says it ; but I deem 
That what the fair to lovers swear 
Should be inscribed upon the air. 

Or in the running stream. Lamb. 


If gouty pangs, or a rank goatish smell. 

Did ever with poor mortal justly dwell ; 

Thy rival, Virro, to console thy care, 

Hath got of each disease an ample share : 

For, when in hot embrace the lovers burn. 

She's choked with stench, and he with gout is torn. 



To me alone, thou said'st, thy love was true, 

And true should be, though Jove himself might woo. 

I loved thee, Lesbia, not as rakes may prize 

The favourite wanton who has pleased their eyes ; 

Mine was a tender glow, a purer zeal ; 

'Twas all the parent for the child can feel. 


Thy common falsehood now, thyself I know ; 

And though my frame with fiercer heat may glow, 

Yet Lesbia 's vile and worthless in my sight, 

Compared with Lesbia once my heart's delight ; 

Nor wonder passion's unrestrain'd excess 

Makes me desire thee more, but love thee less. Lamb. 


Thou told'st me, in our days of love, 

That I had all that heart of thine ; 
That ev'n to share the couch of Jove, 

Thou wouldst not, Lesbia, part from mine. 

How purely wert thou worshipp'd then ! 

Not with the vaguB and vulgar fires 
Which Beauty wakes in soulless men, — 

But loved, as children by their sires. 

That flattering dream, alas, is o'er ; — 
I know thee now — and though these eyes 

Dote on thee wildly as before. 
Yet, ev'n in doting, I despise. 

Yes, sorceress — mad as it may seem — 
With all thy craft, such spells adorn thee. 

That passion ev'n outlives esteem. 

And I at once adore — and scorn thee. Mooke. 


Cease, cease to toil for thanks, to merit well, 
Or think that gratitude with man can dwell. 
All are ungrateful. Selfish sloth 's the trade. 
The only course by which we are repaid. 
This hateful truth still more and more I rue. 
Still more each day and hour I feel it true. 

Alas for me ! whom no one hates so sore. 
Whom no one angers, injures, tortures more, 
Than he who owes me all man ever owes 
■ To the first, best, and only friend he knows. Lamb. 

T 2 

276 CATnLLus. 


Gellius had frequently been told, 

His uncle used to rave and scold. 

If any of his friends should be 

Doing or talking wantonly : 

He, to avoid reproof and strife, 

Affects to flout his uncle's wife ; 

His uncle silent, and his friend 

Thus made, Gellius had gain'd his end ; 

Who now this very uncle jeers. 

And not one word of censure feajs. Nott. 


No fair was ever yet so dear 

As thou, my Lesbia, wert to me ; 
No faith was ever so sincere . 

As that which bound my heart to thee. 

Now even by thy frailties caught, 

So straitly is my will confined ; 
The tender duties it hath wrought 

So wholly have enslaved my mind ; 

Practise each virtue o'er and o'er, 

Or every vice in turn approve. 
Nor that could make me love thee more. 

Nor this could make me cease to love. Lamb. 


No nymph among the much-loved few 

Is loved as thou art loved by me : 
No love was e'er so fond, so true. 

As my fond love, sweet maid, for thee ! 

Yes, e'en thy faults, bewitching dear ! 

With such delights my soul possess. 
That whether faithless or sincere, 

I cannot love thee more, nor less ! Anon. 



If virtuous deeds, if honour ever fair, 

Pleasure the memory and console the mind ; 

And faith preserved, and pious vows that ne'er 
Attested heaven to deceive mankind ; 

Then great the bliss that waits your future day, 
From thy past passion for this thankless maid ; 

For all that tenderest love could do or say 
By thee, Catullus, has been done and said. 

'Twas vain ; false Lesbia's breast forgot it all. 

Why on this rack thy heart then longer stretch ? 
Cast off, undauntedly, your slothful thrall. 

And cease, in spite of heaven, to be a wretch. 

'Tis hard to lay long-cherish'd love aside ; 

'Tis hard at once. But 'tis your only plan ; 
'Tis all yoar hope. This love must be defied ; 

Nor think you cannot, but assert you can. 

Ye gods, if pity 's yours, if e'er ye raise 

The wretch who sinks by hovering death opprest, 

Oh ! look on me. — If I have lived with praise, 
Boot out this plague and fury from my breast ; 

Which, like a torpor creeping through my frame. 
Have peace and pleasure from my heart displaced. 

I ask not that she should return my flame. 
Or, what e'en ye could never give, be chaste : 

I ask to have my life again mine own. 

Eased of the languid load that on me weighs. 

Oh! grant me this, ye gods ; with this alone 
Repay my piety, and bless my days. Lamb. 


RuFUS, oh thou I deem'd my friend, on whom 
I love in vain and fruitless trust bestow'd. — 


Fruitless, ah no ! for from that trust a doom 
Of heaviest loss and sad misfortune flow'd. 

Thus didst thou creep into my secret breast ; 

And wasting thus my very heart with woe, 
'Reft from me all that yet my life had bless'd, 

And all the future bliss it hoped to know ? 

Alas ! alas ! thou poison of my days ! 

Alas ! alas ! my easy friendship's pest ! 
And now thy noisome mouth 's foul dew bewrays 

That purest fair's pure lip I oft have press'd. 

Yet not unpunish'd shall thy falsehood go, 
That thus destroys my love's ecstatic flame : 

All ages foul and base thy life shall know. 

And Fame, when doting, gossip of thy shame. Lamb. 


Two brothers has Gallus : the one 
Boasts a wife most seducingly fair ; 

The other is blest with a son 
As seducing in person and air. 

Now Gallus, so weak, so gallant, 

Would the beautiful stripling persuade 

To make a bold push at his aunt. 
And entice the sweet thing to his bed : 

But Gallus must surely want thought ; 

For, since married, methinks it should strike. 
That nephews, so charmingly taught. 

Will cornute every uncle alike. Nott. 


Gkllius is handsome. — I agree. — 
Yes, Lesbia would thy race and thee 

For him, Catullus, spurn. 
Yet he shall all my race devote 
To sale, if but three men of note 

His greeting will return. 

CATULLUS. 279 ) 

Whom Rome abhors, her sons despise, 
And pass with scorn-averted eyes, 

My anger ne'er can move. 
I do not envy, cannot hate ; 
I grudge him, bought at such a rate. 

Not even Lesbia's love. Lamb. 


Whence can those lips, that far out-shamed the rose, 
Assume a paleness like the wintry snows ; 
When from his home each morning Gellius flies. 
Or when at two in summer noons he'R rise? 
Fame whispers then, (but does she whisper right ?) 
" Too much thou revel'st in obscene delight." — 
Fame whispers right ; for thy parch'd lips must show 
Thy lustful flame ; nay, Virro tells it too. Nott. 


CouLDST thou, in all the Roman race, 

No youth more pleasing see ; 
And could thy favour no one grace 

A worthier friend for thee. 

Than one of that unhealthy crew 

From damp Pisaurus' vale ? 
The gilded statue's sallow hue 

Is never half so pale. 

Is such a wretch so dearly prized 

By thy disgusting whim ; 
And must I be by thee despised. 

And also yield to him ? 

Thou canst not see this foul abuse, 

I fain would think, in kindness ; 
And for thee seek thy sole excuse 

In ignorance and blindness. Lamb. 


Can none of all the Roman race 
Engage your heart ? and shall alone 


Be folded iu your fond embrace 
One of Pisaurus' sickly town ! 

The wretch whom you so much prefer, 

Is sallow as a gilded bust : 
But, sweet fav'rite, have a care ! 

You little know to whom you trust. Nott. 


QuiNTius, if 'tis thy wish and will 
That I should owe my eyes to thee, 

Or anything that 's dearer still, 

If aught that 's dearer there can be ; 

Then rob me not of that I prize, 
Of the dear form that is to me. 

Oh ! far, far dearer than my eyes. 

Or aught, if dearer aught there be. Lamb. 


Lesbia Still loads me with abuse, 
And when her husband 's by, the goose 

O'erjoys to hear her flout me. 
Dolt ! were she mute, did she not deign 
To speak my name, 't would then be plain 

She cared no jot about me. 

But while she me for ever chides, 
'Tis plain she thinks of none besides : 

Indifference never spent 
On one despised such daily din ; 
And hot must be the flames within 

That need such constant vent. Lamb. 


When Arrius would commodious say, 
Chommodious always was his way ; 
And when insidious he would name. 
Straight from his lips hinsidious came : 

CATULLUS. 281 1 

Nay more, he thouglit, with that strong swell, 
He spoke hinsidious wondrous well. 
His uncle Liber, and his mother, 
I doubt not, so address'd each other ; 
And that his grandsire, and grandame, 
By female line, did just the same. 

When Arrius was to Syria sent, 
Each wearied ear became content : 
But now no more these words displease, 
Pronounced with neatness and with ease ; 
Of aspiration no one thought ; 
When sudden this dread news was brought. 
That Arrius was return'd, and, strange ! 
Had dai'ed th' Ionian sea to change ; 
For 'twas no more th' Ionian sea, 
But the Hionian, from that day. Nott. 


I HATE and love — ask why — I can't explain ; 
I feel 'tis so, and feel it racking pain. Lamb. 


I LOVE thee and hate thee, but if I can tell 
The cause of my love and my hate, may I die ! 

I can feel it, alas ! I can feel it too well. 

That 1 love thee and hate thee, but cannot tell why. 



The crowd of beauteous Quintia prate : 
To me she is but fair and straight ; 

So far I can comply. 
Those stated charms her form displays ; 
But still the full, the general praise ' 

Of beauteous I deny. 

No grain of sprightliness or grace 
In all her lofty form we trace. 
I Lesbia beauteous call : 


Who, stealing from the lovely host 
The separate charms each fair could boast, 
Herself united all. Lamb. 


QuiNTiA is beauteous in the million's eye : 

Yes — beauteous in particulars, I own ; 
Fair-skinn'd, straight-shaped, tall-sized ; yet I deny 

A beauteous whole ; of charmingness there's none : 
In all that height of figure there is not 
A seasoning spice of that — I know not what ; 
That piquant something, grace without a name : 
But Lesbia's air is charming as her frame ; 
Yes — Lesbia, beauteous in one graceful whole, 
From all her sex their single graces stole. Elton. 


Tell me, Gellius, what merits that fellow who '11 itch 
For his mother and sisters ; and stript of his vest. 

Waste the whole night with either, 'tis no matter which, 
Or the conjugal bliss of his uncle molest ? 

Dost thou know the extent of his baseness, I say ? 

So enormous it is that great Tethys in vain. 
With old Ocean, who fathers the Nymphs of the sea, 
-Would attempt to wash out the indelible stain. 

'Tis so great, 'tis a crime of such matchless offence, 

That the wretch of all wretches is scarce more to blame. 

Who, deaf to the dictates of nature and sense, 
Lays his hand on himself, and bows down to his shame. 



From Gellius' and his parent's guilt shall rise 
A sage deep vers'd in Eastern sacrifice j 
For, as from Persian oracles we learn. 
Of son and mother must the sage be born ; 
Soon for the gods the solemn song he'll frame. 
And cast the entrails in the mystic flame. NoTi 

CATULLUS. 283 3 


Gellius, my hope, that thou wouldst faithful prove 

To the rash trust of my unhappy love, 

On no tried honesty nor truth relied, 

No dread of infamy nor jealous pride. 

But not from thee could my confided fair 

Claim filial duty or fraternal care : 

No incest heighten'd with its richer gust 

The simple treachery of the broken trust. 

'J'hough I, 'twas true, from thee could justly claim 
All that is due to friendship's holy name ; 
Still did I deem thy daring love for crime 
Sought richer prey and trophies more sublime ; 
Nor such trite petty sin could aught impart 
To suit the blacker relish of thy heart. 

But I was fool'd. — Thy guilt can e'en descend 

To spoil a female or betray a friend. 

Thine avarice lets no sin that 's offer'd go, 

Still grasps the high, but ne'er neglects the low ; 

While amply gorged with crimes of highest price. 

Still finds some pleasure in the smallest vice. Lamb. 


Lesbia still rails at me when by. 
Still does the same though far I fly ; 
Yet Lesbia loves me, or I '11 die. 

You ask me how I tell : 
How ! why for ever do not I 
Retort her words ? yet let me die 

But I love Lesbia well. Lamb. 


So little I for Csesar care, 

Whatever his complexion be. 
That whether dark, or whether fair, 

I vow 'tis all the same to me ! 


His favourite so debauch'd is got, 
Yes, so debauch'd is his rank blood, 

Folks say, he 's like a kitchen pot 

That 's cramm'd with ev'ry dainty food. Nott. 


Smyrna, my Cinna's poem, which nine years 
His Muse hath labour'd, now at length appears ; 
While brisk Hortensius hath conceived, and done. 
And given the world five thousand lines in one. 
Far Atrax' waves will hear of Smyrna's name. 
And latest ages still keep Smyrna's fame ; 
The while Volusius' Annals, soon forgot. 
Shall wrap up herrings and in Padua rot. 

The smaller labours of poetic art 

Still please my feelings most and touch my heart ; 

But let the crowd's applauses still be cast 

On long Antimachus and dull bombast. Lamb. 


Smyrna, my Cinna's little book, has ta'en 
Its author nine years' labour of the brain. 
When swift Hortensius has, in less than one. 
Of fifty thousand lines a volume done. 
But here's the difference: times unborn shall hear 
Smyrna rehearsed with an attentive ear. 
When vile Hortensius' short-lived work shall die. 
Neglected by our ear and by our eye ; 
For nothing fit, though noisy and sublime, 
But to wrap mack'rel with in mack'rel time. 
Oh ! let my verse be few, but great my pains ; 
None but the mob can like Antimachus's strains. 


xcvi. to calvus. 

on the death of quintilia. 

Calvus, if any joy from mortal tears 
Can touch the feelings of the silent dead ; 


When dwells regret on loves of former years, 

Or weeps o'er friendsliips that have long been fled, 

Oh ! then far less will be Quintilia's woe 

At early death and fate's severe decree. 
Than the pure pleasure she wiU feel to know 

How w^U, how truly she was loved by thee ! Lamb. 


Ip e'er in human grief there breathe a spell 

To charm the silent tomb, and soothe the dead ; 
When soft regrets on past affections dwell. 

And o'er fond friendships lost, our tears are shed ; 
Sure, a less pang must touch Quintilia's shade 

While hov'ring o'er her sad, untimely bier, 
Than keen-felt joy that spirit pure pervade. 

To witness that her Calvus held her deax. Elton. 


Bt all that 's sacred I declare 

I 'm doubtful which I should prefer ; 

Whether, ^milius, I would choose 

Thy odious mouth, to feast my nose. 

Or that more odious part, which shame 

Forbids me in my verse to name ! 

Neither is over-clean at best ; 

But if I must, I 'd take the last ; 

It 's .toothless sure ; whereas, you know 

Your mouth has tusks a yard or so ; 

Has gums so full of holes and stink, 

'Twas a worm-eaten chest you 'd think ; 

And then its width ! which to my mind 

Brings some toil'd mule that 's oft inclined 

To stale, when, chafed by summer heats, 

The brine's lax aperture dilates. 

Yet to the nymphs this homely swain 

Makes love, and of his form is vain : 

Oh, worthier sure a lash to feel, 

And work with asses at the mill ! 

Who 'd kiss that wretch might kiss, I swear, 

A pale-faced hangman you know where. Nott. 



Whatb'ek is said that 's rude and gross 
To the most silly and verbose, 
May well with meaning just and true 
Be, foul-mouth'd Vettius, said to you. 
Your rugged tongue might sound and whole 
Lick e'en the ploughboy's filthy sole. 

If all you know, 't would give you joy 

To blast, to injure, and destroy. 

But ope your mouth the wish to teach. 

And no one can outlive the speech. Lamb. 


While playfully sporting, I ventured to snatch 
A kiss from thy lips, dearest maid of my soul ; 

And all heaven's ambrosia itself could not match 
The ravishing sweetness of that which I stole. 

Ah ! 'twas not unpunish'd. — I suffer'd more pain 
Than the crucified wretch left to linger awhile. 

For pardon I sued ; but not tears could obtain 
One accent of kindness, one favouring smile. 

You scornfully cleansed from the lip I 'd possess'd 
Every trace, every feeling by mine left behind ; 

And wash'd it, as if by some profligate prest. 
The foulest in person and basest in mind : 

You sought every method to banish my bliss. 
And Love the tormentor's rough duty embraced ; 

Till all its ambrosia was lost to the kiss. 
And 'twas bitter as bitterest helleWe's taste. 

If this penance must follow each amorous slip, 
From such thefts I for ever an abstinence vow ; 

For not even the sweetness I taste on your lip 

Can repay me the anger that sits on your brow. Lamb, 

CATULLUS. 287 7 


Brothek, I come o'er many seas and lands 
To the sad rite wiich pious love ordains, 

To pay thee the last gift that death demands ; 
And oft, though vain, invoke thy mute remains : 

Since death has ravish'd half myself in thee, 

wretched brother, sadly torn from me ! 

And now ere fate our souls shall re-unite. 
To give me back all it hath snatch'd away, 

Receive the gifts, our fathers' ancient rite 
To shades departed still was wont to pay ; 

Gifts wet with tears of heartfelt grief that tell, 

And ever, brother, bless thee, and farewell I Lamb. 


Slow pacing on, o'er many a land and sea, 

Brother ! I come to thy sad obsequy : 

The last fond tribute to the dead impart. 

And call thee, speechless ashes as thou art, 

Alas, in vain ! since fate has ravish'd thee. 

E'en thee, thyself, poor brother ! torn from me 

By too severe a blow ; let this be paid, 

This rite of ancestry, to soothe thy shade ; 

Let this; all bathed in tears, my friendship tell, 

And oh ! for ever bless thee ! and farewell ! Elton. 


O'ee many a realm, o'er many an ocean tost, 

1 come, my brother, to salute thy ghost ! 
Thus on thy tomb sad honour to bestow. 
And vainly call the silent dust below. 
Thou too art gone ! Yes, thee I must resign. 
My moi-e than brother — ah ! no longer mine. 
The funeral rites to ancient Romans paid. 
Duly I pay to thy lamented shade. 

Take them — these tears their heart-felt homage tell ; 
And now — all hail for ever, and farewell ! Hodgson. 



If e'er friend dared a secret impart 

To the friend in whose faith he believed ; 

Or in any aifectionate heart 

Confided, and was not deceived : 

Believe me, Cornelius, as just ; 

To secrecy's duties as true. 
There needs but a friend who will trust 

To make me Harpocrates too. Lamb. 


Silo, restore the sums I paid. 
And lay aside the pander's trade 

To seek an honest name : 
Then practise every coarse affront. 
Be noisy, quarrelsome, and blunt ; 

And I win nothing blame. 

But if you venal pass your days. 
Then low obedience, servile praise. 

Must be your fitting mood. 
A cheat and pander must not wear 
Such rudeness as we scarce forbear 

To censm-e in the good. Lamb. 


Did you believe that I had cursed 
My heart, my life, my cherish'd fair ? 

No cause inflamed my rage to burst ; 

Or had I cause, the gravest, worst. 
My desperate love must still forbear 


But whence the tale I well conceive, 

For when with noise and wine elated, 
When with your tavern host at eve. 
Let one but talk and one believe, 

And any miracle 's created. Lamb. 


Lo ! Formian, in his daring flight. 
Would soar to Pimpla's tuneful brow ; 

But, with their pitchforks, from the height 

The Muses chuck him down below. JSTott. 


When along with a sly auctioneer 
Such a dainty young thing we behold, 

To the, world it must surely appear, 

That its beauty is meant to be sold. Nott. 


When the first wish the bosom knows. 

But hope has never dared to plight. 
Some unexpected hour bestows, 

How heartfelt is the mind's delight ! 

Thus grateful to my lovesick vow. 

Than all the wealthiest can acquire 
More precious far, thus, Lesbia, thou 

Eestor'st thyself to my desire. 

Yes, thou restor'st thyself, my fair. 

When high my love, but hope how dark ! 
And this recorded day shall bear 

Of all my hfe the happiest mark. 
I ask the prosperous crowd in vain 

For one possess'd of greater bliss : 
Yes, challenge thought itself to feign 

A boon' that blesses more than this. Lamb. 



If your foul age, which every vice defiles, 
Were doom'd, Cominius, by the people's law ; 

First your co?irse tongue, that all the good reviles. 
Cut out, would glut the vulture's hungry maw ; 

The crow's black gorge your torn-out eyes digest ; 

Your entrails dogs devour, and wolves the rest. Lamb. 


Dost thou, my life, a tender bond propose 
Of lasting truth and constant love's delights ? 

G-ods grant, that truly from thy heart it flows. 
And nerve that heart to keep the faith it plights ! 

Thus let their halloVd vows, their fond career 
Till both shall end, our lives and loves pursue ; 

And coming time through each succeeding year 

Find me as fond as now, and her as true. Lamb. 

the same. 

Sat you, my life, that we shall ever love ? 

Oh ! may no time the pleasing words disprove ! 

Heav'n to these words eternal truth impart ; 

Let her have breathed them from her inmost heart ; 

And through our lives to Lesbia's spirit grant 

Firmness to keep this holy covenant. Hodgson, 


I LIKE girls, Aufilena, of consciences nice, 

For the favours they grant who are honestly paid ; 
But you, who have cheated, and taken the price 


Commits a base fraud, which would shame and disgrace 
The lowest and worst of the prostitute race. Lamb. 


With only one fond spouse to live content, 

O Aufilena ! best becomes the bride ; 
Yet, if thou art on prostitution bent, 

Go sin with those to whom thou'rt not allied ; 
But let no uncle share thy body's shame, 
Nor raise up children thou must blush to name. Nott. 


Does greatness to that man belong, 

(And in thy own esteem, I know, 
Thou'rt counted great,) who in lust's throng 

Descends to all that's vile and low ? — 
Naso, it does : for we behold in thee 
Greatness, combined with lustful infamy. Nott. 


When Pompe'y was Rome's Consul first, 
'Twas but with two adulterers curst ; 
And, Cinna, when again he reign'd. 
Those two, still unreforra'd, remain'd. 
But, ah ! so skill'd their trade to teach, 
A thousand then had sprung from each. 

For easier much can love be grown 
For others' wives than for our own. 



Justly, Mamurra, does your Formian land 

The grateful epithet of rich command : 

All rural wealth, all wholesome fruits abound, 

And fish, and game, and plough'd and pasture ground. 

u 2 

292 , CATULLUS. 

Yet spite of all, how great your own distress, 
Who squander three times more than you possess. 
Eich then you are, if 'tis a name alone. 
And means your farm's abundance, not your own. 



FoRMLANDS, that vile debauchee, is possest 

Of a good thirty acres of meadow at least. 

With some full forty more, all in arable lands ; 

Nay, whole oceans of fortune the letcher commands. 

With the wealth of rich Croesus his wealth surely vies, 

So immensely extended his opulence lies : 

His huge forests, his moors, with grove, pasture, and plain. 

Would reach furthermost Scythia, or stretch o'er the main : 

Yet this wretch, who such ample possessions can boast. 

Is a blustering, bawdy poltroon at the most. Xott. 


Gellius, I oft in thought debated, 

Whether I should the poem send 
I from Callimachus translated. 

For you to criticise and mend. 

I hoped it might have soothed your hate. 
And all your weak attempts have ended, 

Poor fly ! to sting my well-arm'd pate 
By store of weapons well defended. 

But vain I find is all my toil ; 

You. will not to my wish incline. 
So still my doak your darts shall foil ; 

While you shall keenly smart with mine. Lamb. 


Let those love now, who never loved before ; 
And those who always loved, now love the more. 

The spring, the new, the warWing spring appears, 
The youthful season of reviving years ; 
In spring the loves enkindle mutual heats, 
The feather'd nation choose their tuneful mates. 
The trees grow fruitful with descending rain, 
And, drest in different greens, adorn the plain. 
She comes ; to-morrow beauty's empress roves 
Through walks that winding run within the groves ; 
She twines the shooting myrtle into bowers, 
And ties their meeting tops with wreaths of flowers ; 
Then, raised sublimely on her easy throne. 
From nature's powerful dictates draws her own. 

Let those love now, who nev^r loved before ; 
And those who always loved, now love the more. 

'Twas on that day which saw the teeming flood 
Swell round, impregnate with celestial blood ; 
Wand'ring in circles stood the finny crew, 
The rest was left a void expanse of blue ; 
Then parent ocean work'd with heaving throes, 
And dripping wet the fair Dione rose. 

Let those love now, who never loved before ; 
And those who always loved, now love the more. 

She paints the purple year with varied show, 
Tips the green gem, and makes the blossom glow. 
She makes the turgid buds receive the breeze, 
Expand to leaves and shade the naked trees. 
When gath'ring damps the misty nights diffuse. 
She sprinkles all the mom with balmy dews ; 


Bright trembling pearls depend at every spray, 
And kept from falling, seem to fall away. 
A glossy freshness hence the rose receives, 
And blushes sweet through all her silken leaves ; 
(The drops descending through the silent night. 
While stars serenely roll their golden light ;) 
Close till the morn her humid veil she holds ; 
Then deck'dwith virgin pomp the flower unfolds. 
Soon will the morning blush, ye maids, prepare ; 
In rosy garlands bind your flowing hair ; 
[fTis Venus' plant : the blood fair Venus shed, 
Ip'er the gay beauty pour'd immortal red : 
p'rom love's soft kiss a sweet ambrosial smell 
ilWas taught for ever on the leaves to dwell ; 
'From gems, from flames, from orient rays of light. 
The richest lustre makes her purple bright ; 
And she to-morrow weds ; the sportive gale 
Unties her zone ; she bursts the verdant veil ; 
Through all her sweets the rifling lover flies, 
And as he breathes, her glowing fires arise. 

Let those love now, who never loved before ; 
And those who always loved, now love the more. 

Now fair Dione to the myrtle grove 

Sends the gay Nymphs, and sends her tender love. 

And shall they venture ? Is it safe to go. 

While nymphs have hearts and Cupid wears a bow ? 

Yes, safely venture ; 'tis his mother's wiU ; 

He walks unarm'd and undesiring ill ; 

His torch extinct, his quiver useless hung, 

His arrows idle, and his bow unstrung. 

And yet, ye nymphs, beware, his eyes have charms ; 

And love that 's naked, still is love in arms. 

Let those love now, who never loved before ; 
And those who always loved, now love the more. 

From Venus' bower to Delia's lodge repairs 

A virgin train complete with modest airs : 

" Chaste Delia, grant our suit ! oh shun the wood, 

Nor stain this sacred lawn with savage blood. 


Venus, O Delia, if she could persuade, 
"Would ask thy presence, might she ask a maid." 
Here cheerful choirs for three auspicious nights 
With songs prolong the pleasurable rites : 
Her crowds in measures lightly decent move ; 
Or seek by pairs the covert of the grove. 
Where meeting greens for arbours arch above, 
And mingling flowerets strew the scenes of love. 
Here dancing Ceres shakes her golden sheaves ; 
Here Bacchus revels, deckt with viny leaves ; 
Here wit's enchanting god, in laurel crown'd, 
Wakes all the ravish'd hours with silver sound. 
Ye fields, ye forests, own Dione's reign. 
And Delia, huntress Delia, shun the plain. 

Let those love now, who never loved before ; 
And those who always loved now love the more. 

Gay with the bloom of all her opening year, 
The Queen at Hybla bids her throne appear, 
And there presides ; and there the fav'rite band. 
Her smiling Graces, share the great command. 
Now, beauteous Hybla ! dre^ thy flowery beds 
With all the pride the lavish season sheds ; 
Now all thy colours, all thy fragrance yield. 
And rival Enna's aromatic field. 
To fill the presence of the gentle court 
From every quarter rural Nymphs resort, 
From woods, from mountains, from these humble vales, 
From waters curling with the wanton gales. 
Pleased with the joyful train, the laughing Queen 
In circles seats them round the bank of green ; 
And, "lovely girls," she whispers, "guard your hearts; 
' My boy, though stript of arms, abounds in arts." 

Let those love now, who never loved before ; 
And those who always loved, now love the more. 

Let tender grass in shaded alleys spread ; 
Let early flowers erect their painted head ; 
To-morrow's glory be to-morrow seen ; 
That day old Ether wedded Earth in green. 


The vernal father bade the spring appear, 
In clouds he coupled to produce the year ; 
The sap descending o'er her bosom ran. 
And all the various sorts of soul began 
By wheels unknown to sight, by secret veins 
Distilling life ; the fruitful goddess reigns 
Through all the lovely realms of native day, 
Through all the circled land and circling sea ; 
With fertile seed she fiU'd the pervious earth, 
And ever fix'd the mystic ways of birth. 

Let those love now, who never loved before ; 
And those who always loved, now love the more. 

'Twas she, the parent, to the Latian shore 
Through various dangers Troy's remainder bore. 
She won Lavinia for her warlike son. 
And winning her, the Latian empire won. 
She gave to Mars the maid whose honour'd womb 
Swell'd with the founder of immortal Rome. 
Decoy'd by shows the Sabine dames she led, 
And taught our vigorous youth the means to wed. 
Hence sprung the Romans, hence the race divine 
Through which great Cfesar draws his Julian line. 

Let those love now, who never loved before ; 
And those who always loved, now love the more. 

In rural seats the soul of pleasure reigns ; 
The love of Beauty fills the rural scenes ; 
Ev'n Love (if fame the truth of Love declare) 
Drew first the breathings of a rural air, 
Some pleasing meadow pregnant Beauty prest, 
She laid her infant on its bowery breast ; 
From nature's sweets he supp'd the fragrant dew, 
He smiled, he kiss'd them, and by kissing grew. 

Let those love now, who never loved before ; 
And those who always loved, now love the more. 

Now bulls o'er stalks of broom extend theif sides, 
Secure of favours from their lowing brides. 


Now stately rams their fleecy consorts lead, 

Who bleating follow through the wand'ring shade. 

And now the goddess bids the birds appear, 

Raise all their music, and salute the year ; 

Then deep the swan begins, and deep the song 

Runs o'er the water where he sails along ; 

While Philomela tunes a treble strain. 

And from the poplar charms the list'ning plain. 

We fancy love exprest at every note ; 

It melts, it warbles in her liquid throat. 

Of barbarous Tereus she complains no more. 

But sings for pleasure, as for grief before. 

And still her graces rise, her airs extend, 

And all is silence till the syren end. 

How long in coming is my lovely spring ? 

And when shall I, and when the swallow sing ? 

Sweet Philomela, cease ; — or here I sit. 

And silent loose my rapturous hour of wit. 

'Tis gone ; the fit retires, the flames decay ; 

My tuneful Phoebus flies averse away. 

His own Amyclffi thus, as stories run. 

But once was silent, and that once undone. 

Let those love now, who never loved before, 
And those who always loved, now love the more. 



\_First printed 1651.] 

Love he to-morrow, who loved never ; 
To-morrow, who hath loved, persever. 

The spring appears, in which the earth 
Receives a new harmonious birth ; 
When all things mutual love unites ; 
When birds perform their nuptial rites ; 
And fruitful by her watery lover, 
Each grove its tresses doth recover. 
Love's Queen to-morrow, in the shade, 
Which by these verdant trees is made, 

298 THE TiaiL OF VENUS. 

Their sprouting tops in wreaths shall bind, 
And myrtles into arbours wind ; 
To-morrow, raised on a high throne, 
Dione shall her laws make known. 

Love he to-morrow, who loved never ; 
To-morrow, who hath loved, persever. 

Then the round ocean's foaming flood 
Immingled with celestial blood, 
'Mongst the blue purple of the main, 
And horses whom two feet sustain, 
Rising Dione did beget 
With fruitful waters dropping wet. 

Love he to-morrow, who loved never ; 
To-morrow, who hath loved, persever. 

With flowery jewels everywhere 
She paints the purple-colour'd year ; 
She, when the rising bud receives 
Favonius' breath, thrusts forth the leaves. 
The naked roof with these t' adorn ; 
She the transparent dew o' th' morn, 
Which the thick air of night still uses 
To leave behind, in rain diffuses ; 
These tears with orient brightness shine. 
Whilst they with trembling weight decline, 
Whose every drop, into a small 
Clear orb distill'd, sustains its fall. 
Pregnant with these the bashful rose 
Her purple blushes doth disclose. 
The drops of falling dew that are 
Shed in calm nights by every star, 
She in her humid mantle holds, 
And then her virgin leaves unfolds. 
r th' morn, by her command, each maid 
With dewy roses is array'd ; 
Which from Cythera's crimson blo(Jd, 
From the soft kisses 'Love bestow'd, 
From jewels, from the radiant flame, 
And the sun's purple lustre, came. 


She to her spouse shall married be 
To-morrow ; not ashamed that he 
Should with a single knot untie 
Her fiery garment's purple dye. 

Love he to-morrow, who loved never ; 
To-morrow, who hath loved, persever. 

The goddess bade the nymphs remove 

Unto the shady myrtle grove ; 

The boy goes with the maids, yet none 

Will trust, or think Love tame is grown, 

If they perceive that anywhere 

He arrows doth about him bear. 

Go fearless, nymphs, for Love hath laid 

Aside his arms, and tame is made. 

His weapons by command resign'd. 

Naked to go he is enjoin'd. 

Lest he hurt any by his craft, 

Either with flame, or bow, or shaft. 

But yet take heed, young nymphs, beware 

You trust him not, for Cupid 's fair, 

Lest by his beauty you be harm'd ; 

Love naked is completely arm'd. 

Love he to-morrow, who loved never ; 
To-morrow, who hath loved, persever. 

Fair Venus virgins sends to thee, 
Indued Tvith equal modesty: 
One only thing we thee desire, 
Chaste Delia, for a while retire ; 
That the wide forest, that the wood, 
May be unstain'd with savage blood. 
She would with prayers herself attend thee, 
But that she knew she could not bend thee ; 
She would thyself to come have pray'd, 
Did these delights beseem a maid. 
Now might'st thou see with solemn rites 
The Chorus celebrate three nights ; 
'Mongst troops whom equal pleasure crowns, 
To play and sport upon thy downs ; 


'Mongst garlands made of various flowers, 

'Mongst ever-verdant myrtle bowers. 

Ceres nor Bacchus absent be, 

Nor yet the poet's deity. 

All night we wholly must employ 

In vigils, and in songs of joy ; 

None but Dione must bear sway 

Amongst the woods ; Delia, give way. 

Love he to-morrow, who loved never ; 
To-morrow, who hath loved, persever. 

She the tribunal did command 
Deck'd with Hyblcean flowers should stand ; 
She will in judgment sit ; the Graces 
On either side shall have their places ; 
Hybla, thy flowers pour forth, whate'er 
Was brought thee by the welcome year ; 
Hybla, thy flowery garment spread. 
Wide as is Enna's fruitful mead ; 
Maids of the country here will be ; 
Maids of the mountain come to see ; 
Hither resort all such as dwell 
Either in grove, or wood, or well. 
The wing'd boy's mother every one 
Commands in order to sit down ; 
Charging the virgins that they must 
In nothing Love, though naked, trust. 

Love he to-morrow, who loved never ; 
To-morrow, who hath loved, persever. 

Let the fresh covert of a shade 
Be by these early flowers display'd, 
To-morrow (which with sports and play 
We keep) was Other's wedding day ; 
When first the father of the spring 
Did out of clouds the young year bring. 
The husband Shower then courts his spouse. 
And in her sacred bosom flows, 
That all which that vast body bred 
By this defluxion may be fed : 


Produced within, she all there swaj-s 
By a hid spirit, which by ways 
Unknown diffused through soul and veins, 
All things both governs and sustains. 
Piercing through the unsounded sea, 
And earth, and highest heaven, she 
All places with her power doth fill. 
Which through each part she doth distil ; 
And to the world the mystic ways 
Of all production open lays. 

Love he to-morrow, who loved never ; 
To-morrow, who hath loved, persever 

She to the Latins did transfer 
The Trojan nephews ; and by her 
Was the Laurentian virgin won. 
And join'd in marriage to her son. 
By her assistance did Mars gain 
A votaress from Vesta's fane. 
To marriage Romulus betray'd 
The Sabine women, by her aid, 
(Of Eomans the wide-spreading stem,) 
And in the long descent of them 
In whom that offspring was'dilated, 
Csesar her nephew she created. 

Love he to-morrow, who loved never ; 
To-morrow, who hath loved, persever. 

The fields are fruitful made by pleasure ; 
The fields are rich in Venus' treasure ; 
And Love, Dione's son, fame yields 
For truth, his birth had in the fields ; 
As soon as born the field reliev'd him. 
Into its bosom first receiv'd him ; 
She bred him from his infant hours 
With the sweet kisses of the flowers. 

Love he to-morrow, who loved never ; 
To-morrow, who hath loved, persever. 

See how the bulls their sides distend. 
And broom-stalks with the burthen bend ; 


Now every one doth safely lie 

Confined within his marriage tie ; 

See, with their husbands here are laid 

The bleating flocks beneath the shade. 

The warbling birds on every tree 

The goddess wills not silent be. 

The vocal swans on every lake, 

With their hoarse voice a harsh sound make ; 

And Tereus' hapless maid beneath 

The poplar's shade her song doth breathe ; 

Such as might well persuade thee, love 

Doth in those trembling accents move ; 

Not that the sister in those strains 

Of the inhuman spouse complains. 

We silent are whilst she doth sing, 

How long in coming is my spring ? 

When will the time arrive, that I 

May swallow-like my voice untie ? 

My muse for being silent flies me, 

And Phcebus will no longer prize me : 

So did Amiclae once, whilst all 

Silence observed, through silence fall. 

Love he to-morrow, who loved never ; 
To-morrow, who hath loved, persever. 

TH0M.4.S Stanley 




The glittering ore let others vainly heap, 

O'er fertile vales extend th' enclosing mound ; 

With dread of neighb'ring foes forsake their sleep, 
And start aghast at every trumpet's sound. 

Me humbler scenes delight, and calmer days ; 

A tranquil life fair poverty secure ! 
Then boast, my hearth, a small but cheerful blaze. 

And, riches grasp who will, let me be poor. 

Nor yet be hope a stranger to my door. 

But o'er my roof, bright goddess, still preside ! 

With many a bounteous autumn heap my floor, 
And swell my vats with must, a purple tide. 

My tender vines I'll plant with early care, 
And choicest apples with a skilful hand ; 

Nor blush, a rustic, oft to guide the share. 
Or goad the tardy ox along the land. . 

Let me, a simple swain, with honest pride, 

If chance a lambkin from its dam should roam. 
Or sportful kid, the little wanderer chide, 

And in my bosom bear exulting home. 
Here Pales I bedew with milky showers, 

Lustrations yearly for my shepherd pay, 
Revere each antique stone Isedeck'd with flowers 

That bounds the field, or points the doubtful way. 


M7 grateful fruits, the earliest of the year, 
Before the rural god shall duly wait. 

From Ceres' gifts I'll cull each browner ear. 
And hang a wheaten wreath before her gate. 

The ruddy god shall save my fruit from stealth, 
And far away each little plunderer scare : 

And you, the guardians once of ampler wealth, 
My household gods, shall still my off'rings share. 

My num'rous herds that wanton'd o'er the mead 
The choicest falling then could richly yield ; 

Now scarce I spare a little lamb to bleed 
A mighty victim for my scanty field. 

And yet a lamb shall bleed, while, ranged around, 
The village youths shall stand in order meet. 

With rustic hymns, ye gods, your praise resound. 
And future crops and future Wines entreat. 

Then come, ye powers, nor scorn my frugal board. 
Nor yet the gifts clean earthen bowls convey ; 

With these the first of men the gods adored. 
And form'd their simple shape of ductile clay. 

My little flock, ye wolves, ye robbers, spare. 
Too mean a plunder to deserve your toil ; 

For wealthier herds the nightly theft prepare ; 
There seek a nobler prey, and richer spoil. 

For treasured wealth, nor stores of golden wheat, 
The hoard of frugal sires, I vainly call ; 

A little farm be mine, a cottage neat. 

And wonted couch where balmy sleep may fall. 

" What joy to hear the tempest howl in vain. 
And clasp a fearful mistress to my breast ; 

Or luU'd to slumber by the beating rain. 
Secure and happy sink at last to rest." 

These joys be mine ! — grant me only these. 
And give to others bags of shining gold. 

Whose steely heart can brave the boist'rous seas, 
The storm wide-wasting, or the stifF'ning cold. 

Content with little, I would rather stay 

Than spend long months amid the wat'ry waste ; 


In cooling shades elude the scorching ray, 
Beside some fountain's gliding waters placed. 

Oh perish rather aU that 's rich and rare, 

The diamond quarry, and the golden vein, 
Than that my absence cost one precious tear, 

Or give some gentle maid a moment's pain. 
With glittering spoils, Messala, gild thy dome. 

Be thine the noble task to lead the brave ; 
A lovely foe me captive holds at home, 

Chain'd to her scornful gate, a watchful slave. 

Inglorious post ! — and yet I heed not fame : 
Th' applause of crowds for Delia I'd resign: 

To live with thee I'd bear the coward's name. 
Nor 'midst the scorn of nations once repine. 

With thee to live I'd mock the ploughman's toil. 

Or on some lonely mountain tend my sheep ; 
At night I'd lay me on the flinty soil, 

And happy 'midst thy dear embraces sleep. 

What drooping lover heeds the Tyrian bed, 

While the long night is pass'd with many a sigh ; 

Nor softest down with richest carpets spread. 
Nor whisp'ring rills can close the weeping eye. 

Of threefold iron were his rugged frame. 

Who, when he might thy yielding heart obtain. 

Could yet attend the calls of empty fame, 
Or follow arms in quest of sordid gain. 

Unenvied let him drive the vanquish'd host, 

Through captive lands his conquering armies lead ; 

Unenvied wear the robe with gold emboss'd. 
And guide with solemn state his foaming steed. 

Oh may I view thee with life's parting ray, 
And thy dear hand with dying ardour press : 

Sure thou wilt weep — and on thy lover's clay. 
With breaking heart, print many a tender kiss ! 

Sure thou wilt weep — and woes unutter'd feel. 
When on the pile thou seest thy lover laid ! 

For well I know, nor flint, nor ruthless steel. 
Can arm the breast of such a gentle maid. 

306 TiBULLtrs. 

From the sad pomp, what youth, what pitying fair, 
Returning slow, can tender tears refrain ? 

O Delia, spare thy cheeks, thy tresses spare. 
Nor give my ling'ring shade a world of pain. 

But now while smiling hours the Fates bestow, 
Let love, dear maid, our gentle hearts unite ! 

Soon death will come and strike the fatal blow ; 
Unseen his head, and veil'd in shades of night. 

Soon creeping age will bow the lover's frame, 
And tear the myrtle chaplet from his brow : 

With hoary locks ill suits the youthful flame. 
The soft persuasion, or the ardent vow. 

Now the fair queen of gay desire is ours, 
And lends our follies an indulgent smile : 

'Tis lavish youth's t' enjoy the frolic hours. 
The wanton revel and the midnight broil. 

Your chief, my friends and fellow-soldiers, I 
To these light wars will lead you boldly on : 

Far hence, ye trumpets, sound, and banners fly ; 
To those who covet wounds and fame begone. 

And bear them fame and wounds ; and riches bear ; 

There are that fame and wounds and riches prize. 
For me, while I possess one plenteous year, 

I'll wealth and meagre want alike despise. Grainger. 


Let others raise enormous heaps of gold, 

And by sure tenure numerous acres hold ; 

Whom daily fears of neighbouring foes afR-ight, 

While the shrill trumpet breaks their sleep at night. 

Me let my easy poverty release 

From anxious cares, in liberty and ease ; 

While my glad hearth with daily fires is bright. 

And slumbers, undisturbed with cares, at night. 

Still let the seasons crown my smiling field. 

Of Idndly fruits a plenteous harvest yield. 

Still may the product of my loaded vine 

Swell all my vessels with nectareous wine. 


Myself th' industrious husbandman will be, 

And set with ready hand the apple tree ; 

And in due season plant the tender vine ; 

Nor e'er the joys of solitude resign. 

Nor shall I blush the rustic fork to wield. 

Or goad the sluggish ox to plough the field ; 

Or in my arms to bear the straggling lamb. 

Or tender kid, home to the mourning dam. 

With rural rites my careful shepherd here 

I'm used to lustrate each revolving year ; 

Propitious sacred Pales to retain, 

I sprinkle milk upon the rising grain, 

For still I worship wheresoe'er I see 

An ancient ftone, or remnant of a tree, 

With flowery garlands crown'd in open field. 

Or where three ways decisive limits yield. 

The rural gods as offerings shall receive 

The earliest fruit my loaded orchards give. 

Thy temple gates, O Ceres, I '11 adorn 

With auburn wreaths of ripen'd ears of corn. 

And in my orchard let Priapus stand 

With the dire sickle in his ruddy hand. 

To scare the noxious birds from off my land. 

And you, my household gods, shall have your due, 

More spreading fields were once preserved by you. 

The guardians once of large extended plains. 

Now one small farm your kind protection gains. 

A cow-calf then for numerous herds of kine 

Fell a lustration to your powers divine. 

A lambkin now at your bless'd altar dies, 

Of narrow soil the mighty sacrifice. 

A lambkin to your deities shall fall. 

While round the rustic youths on you shall call. 

" Good harvest and good vintage, oh ! bestow ! 

Harvest and vintage to your smiles we owe. 

Be present, O ye gods ! nor yet disdain 

To take the off'rings of a lowly swain, 

Though such small earthen vessels them contain. 

The swains of old in earthen bowls caroused, 

E'er glittering gold or silver yet were used. 

X 2 


And you, ye thieves and wolves, my flock refrain, 
Your prey from larger herds you 'II easier gain. 
My father's wealth's below my just desire. 
Or the full granaries of his potent sire. 
A little crop my wishes will supply, 
It is enough upon my couch to he. 
Let me on that my wearied limbs repose, 
And give a toilsome grandeur to my foes. 
On that reclined, how pleasing 'tis to hear 
The winds inclement make tumultuous war. 
Clasping within my arms my clinging fair ! 
Or when, by winter's cold congeal'd, the rain, 
In rattling showers assaults my hut in vain. 
Delia and I secure to slumbers haste, * 
Lull'd by the rocking storms and winter's blast. 
This be my fate ; let riches be their share 
Who can the fury of the billows dare. 
And, patient of the weather, tempests bear. 
My wishes move within a narrow bound, 
Content at last with little I have found. 
The tedious paths to wealth no more I'll stray, 
My easy soul abhors that rugged way. 
Beneath the shadow of some spreading tree. 
From fear, from hope, from toil, from wishes free. 
Upon the brink of a cool tumbling stream, 
I shun the dog-star's fierce and sultry gleam. 

Oh ! perish rather, all ye glittering gold. 
And jewels which fond mortals precious hold, 
Than any tender she let fall a tear, 
Struck, by the danger of my ways, with fear ! 
In thee, Messala, war has wondrous charms. 
While land and sea are conquer'd by thy arms ; 
When as the crown of all thy glorious toils. 
Thou seest thy house adorn'd with hostile spoils. 
Bound with Love's fetters, here will I remain, 
I cannot break soft beauty's lovely chain. 
No lust of praise invades my peaceful breast, 
Whilst thus with thee, my Delia, I am blest. 
Of sloth and idleness I court the fame ; 
Thou art a solid good, that but a name. 


If thou, my Delia, still with me remain, 
To yoke the steers myself aiFords no pain. 
I can, when thou art by, on lonely downs 
Feed my own herds, secure from Delia's frowns. 
While thee I can within my bosom keep, 
I on the rugged ground can calmly sleep. 
Of what avail are Tyrian beds of down, 
When love averse will only give a frown ? 
The tedious night in tears will slowly move, 
The joys of night we only owe to love. 
'Tis not the down, nor yet the Tyrian loom. 
Nor all the golden carpets of thy room, 
Nor the soft murmurs of the water's fall. 
Can to thy rescue gentle slumbers caU. 

How dull is he ! more lumpish far than lead. 
Who can have thee within his happy bed. 
And yet would leave thee for the dire alarms 
(In chase of spoils) of horrid martial arms : 
Though his victorious troops subdue the foe, 
And wait his nod where'er he please to go ; 
Though clad in silver, cover'd o'er with gold, 
Upon his prancing horse, most graceful to behold. 
Thee let me view when I resign my breath, 
Thee let me.grasp e'en in the pangs of death ; 
And press, with falt'ring hands, thy lovely arms, 
In death my Delia still would have her charms. 
You'd weep, my Delia, when you saw me die. 
Beheld me on my bed expiring lie ; 
On my cold lips thy kisses thou wouldst fix. 
While flowing tears with thy dear kisses mix. 
Yes, you would weep, you would let fall a tear ; 
Those lovely eyes a drooping grief would wear. 
I know thee well, all tenderness thou art. 
Nor steel, nor stone, in thee have any part, 
But love and soft compassion fill tby heart. 
No, from my funeral no kind youth woidd go. 
Nor tender virgin, ere their tears did flow. 
Spare, spare my Manes, gentle Delia, spare 
Thy lovely locks, thy bright, dishevell'd hair. 
And violence to that dear face forbear. 


While fate permits, then let us join our loves, 
Death with his gloomy brow too swiftly moves ; 
And feeble age steals on, when love will be 
Indecent and in vain in thee and mOi 
With hoary hairs soft toys will not agree. 
Now is the time bright Venus to enjoy. 
And taste the pleasures of the wanton boy. 
While youth is high, the pretty strifes of love. 
Its war and peace, a sweet delight will move. 
In this a soldier's merit I may claim. 
And e'en a general's more exalted fame : 
Far hence, ye ensigns ! far, ye trumpets' sounds,. 
To those who court them bear your blood and wounds ; 
Bear to the same the heaps of ^old away. 
For gold and fame I yield their sordid prey. 
Pleased with my present store, securely wise, 
Hunger and wealth I equally despise. OtwaTj 


Let others pile their yellow ingots high, 

And see their cultured acres round them spread ; 

While hostile borderers draw their anxious eye. 
And at the trumpet's blast their sleep is tied. 

Me let my poverty to ease resign ; 

While my bright hearth reflects its blazing cheer ; 
In season let me plant the pliant vine, 

And, with light hand, my swelling apples rear. 

Hope, fail not thou ! let earth her fruitage yield ; 

Let the brimm'd vat flow red with virgin wine : 
For still some lone bare stump that marks the field, 

Or antique cross-way stone, with flowers I twine. 

In pious rite ; and, when the year anew 
Matures the blossom on the budding spray, 

I bear the peasant's god his grateful due, 
And firstling fruits upon his altar lay. 

Still let thy temple's porch, Ceres ! wear 
The spiky garland from my harvest field ; 

And, 'midst my orchard, 'gainst the birds of air. 
His threatening hook let red Priapus wield. 


Ye too, once guardians of a rich domain. 
Now of poor fields, domestic gods ! be kind. 

Then, for unnumber'd herds, a calf was slain ; 
Now to your altars is a lamb consign'd. 

The mighty victim of a scanty soil, 

A lamb alone shall bleed before your shrine ; 

While round it shout the youthful sons of toil, 

" Hail ! grant the harvest ! grant the generous wine ! " 

Content with little, I no more would tread 

The lengthening road, but shun the summer day, 

Where some o'eivbranching tree might shade my head, 
And watch the murmuring rivulet glide away. 

Nor could I blush to wield the rustic prong. 
The lingering oxen goad ; or some stray lamb, 

Embosom'd in my garment, bear along, 
Or kid forgotten by its heedless dam. 

Spare my small flock ! ye thieves and wolves, assail 
The wealthier cotes, that ampler booty hold ; 

Ne'er for my shepherd due lustrations fail ; 
I soothe with milk the goddess of the fold. 

Be present, deities ! nor gifts disdain 

From homely board ; nor cups with scorn survey, 
Earthen, yet pure ; for such the ancient swain 

Form'd for himself, and shaped of ductile clay. 

I envy not my sires their golden heap ; 

Their garners' floors with sheafy corn bespread ; 
Few sheaves suflice : enough, in easy sleep 

To lay my limbs upon th' accustom'd bed. 
How sweet to hear, without, the howling blast. 

And strain a yielding mistress to my breast ! 
Or, when the gusty torrent's rush has past. 

Sink, luU'd by beating rains, to shelter'd rest ! 

Be this my lot ; be his th' unenvied store. 

Who the drear storm endures, and raging sea ; 

Ah ! perish emeralds and the golden ore, 

If the fond, anxious nymph must weep for me ! 

Messala ! range the earth and main, that Rome 
May shine with trophies of the foes that fell ; 


But me a beauteous nymph enchains at home, 

At her hard door a sleepless sentinel. 
I heed not praise, my Delia ! while with thee ; 

Sloth braiui my name, so I thy sight behold ; 
Let me the oxen yoke ; oh come with me ! 

On desert mountains I will feed my fold. 

And, while I press'd thee in my tender arms, 
Sweet were my slumber on the rugged ground : 

What boots the purple couch, if cruel charms 

In wakeful tears the midnight hours have drown'd ? 

Not the soft plume can yield the limbs repose. 
Nor yet the broider'd covering soothe to sleep ; 

Not the calm streamlet that in murmurs flows, 
With sound oblivious o'er the eyelids creep. 

Iron is he who might thy form possess, 

Yet flies to arms, and thirsts for plunder's gains ; 

What though his spear Cilician squadrons press, 

What though his tent be pitch'd on conquer'd plains ? 

In gold and silver mail conspicuous he 

May stride the steed, that, pawing, spurs the sand ; 
May I my last looks fondly bend on thee, 

And grasp thee with my dying, faltering hand ! 

And thou wilt weep when, cold, I press the bier. 
That soon shall on the flaming pyre be thrown ; 

And print the kiss, and mingle many a tear ; 
Not thine a breast of steel, a heart of stone. 

Yes — thou wilt weep. No youth shall thence return 
With tearless eye, no virgin homeward wend : 

But thou forbear to violate my urn. 

Spare thy soft cheeks, nor those loose tresses rend. 

Now fate permits, now blend the sweet embrace : " 
Death, cowl'd in darkness, creeps with stealing tread ; 

111 suits with sluggish age love's sprightly grace, 
And murmur'd fondness with a hoary head. 

The light amour be mine ; the shiver'd door ; 

The midnight fray ; ye trumps and standards, hence ! 
Here is my camp ; bleed they who thirst for ore : 

Wealth I despise in easy competence. Elton. 

TIBUllLUS. 313 J 


Iron were he, who, when he could possess 
Thy charms, preferr'd renown to happiness. 
Though deck'd with spoils, the guerdon of the brave, 
O'er conquer'd lands he bids his banners wave. 
Though captive monarchs throng his sounding car, 
And bow beneath that thunderbolt of war. 
I envy not the blood-stain'd hero's pride, 
Content to feed my flocks at Delia's side. 

If thou art with me, oh ! how sweet my toil. 
Though doom'd to turn for bread a thankless soil ! 
On the cold hill to lay my pensive head, 
If thou art with me, oh ! how soft my bed ! 
What joy remains, when gentle love has flown? 
On downy pillows, wretched and alone. 
Still through the night the sons of fortune weep. 
Nor gold, nor blushing purple, brings them sleep ; 
Celestial music pours a fruitless strain. 
Murmur soft airs and fountains flow in vain. 



With wine, more wine, my recent pains deceive. 
Till creeping slumber send a soft reprieve : 
Asleep, take heed no whisper stirs the air. 
For waked, my boy, I wake to heart-felt care. 
Now is my Delia watch'd by ruthless spies. 
And the gate, bolted, all access denies. 
Relentless gate ! may storms of wind and rain 
With mingled violence avenge my pain ! 
May forky thunders, hurl'd by Jove's red hand, 
Burst every bolt, and shatter every band ! 
Ah no ! rage turns my brain ; the curse recall ; 
On me, devoted, let the thunder fall ! 
Then recollect my many wreaths of yore, 
How oft you've seen me weep, insensate door ! 
No longer then our interview delay, 
And as you open let no noise betray. 


In vain I plead ! — dare then my Delia rise ! 
Love aids the daqntless, and will blind your spies ! 
Those who the godhead's soft behests obey, 
Steal from their pillows unobserv'd away ; 
Qn tip-toe traverse unobserv'd the floor ; 
The key turn noiseless, and unfold the door : 
In vain the jealous each precaution take, 
Their speaking fingers assignations make. 
Nor wiU the god impart to all his aid : 
Love hates the fearful, hates the lazy maid ; 
But through sly windings and unpractis'd ways 
His bold knight-errants to their wish conveys : 
For those whom he with expectation fires 
No ambush frightens, and no labour tires ; 
Sacred the dangers of the dark they dare, 
No robbers stop them, and no bravoes scare. 
Though wintry tempests howl, by love secure. 
The howling tempest I with ease endure : 
No watching hurts me, if my Delia smile, 
Soft turn the gate, and beckon me the while. 

She's mine. Be blind, ye ramblers of the night, 
Lest angry Venus snatch your guilty sight : 
The goddess bids, her votaries' joys to be 
From every casual interruption free : 
With prying steps alarm us not, retire, 
Nor glare your torches, nor our names inquire ; 
Or if ye know, deny, by heaven above, 
Nor dare divulge the privacies of love. , 
From blood and seas vindictive Venus sprung. 
And sure destruction waits the blabbing tongue ! 
Nay, should they prate, you, Delia, need not fear ; 
Your lord (a sorceress swore) should give no ear ! 
By potent spells she cleaves the sacred ground, 
And shuddering spectres wildly roam around ! 
I 've seen her tear the planets from the sky ! 
Seen lightning backward at her bidding fly ! 
She calls ? from blazing pyres the corse descends, 
And, re-enliven'd, clasps his wondering friends ! 
The friends she gathers with a magic yell. 
Then with aspersions frights them back to hell ' 

TIBULLXIS. 315 15 

She wills, — glad summer gilds the frozen pole ! 

She wills, — ^in summer wintry tempests roU ! 

She knows ('tis true) Medea's awful spell ! 

She knows to vanquish the fierce guards of hell ! 

To me she gave a charm for lovers meet, 

(" Spit thrice, my fair, and thrice the charm repeat.") 

Us in soft dalliance should your lord surprise. 

By this imposed on he'd renounce his eyes ! 

But bless no rival, or th' affair is known ; 

This incantation me befriends alone. 

Nor stopp'd she here; but swore, if I'd agree. 

By charms or herbs to set thy lover free. 

With dire lustrations she began the rite ! 

(Serenely shone the planet of the night,) 

The magic gods she call'd with hellish sound, 

A sable sacrifice distain'd the ground 

I stopp'd the spell : I must not, cannot part : 

I begg'd her aid to gain a mutual heart. Graingek. 


Oh ! give me wine, to heal my wounded breast, 

And close my aching eyes in pleasant rest. 

Let not a sound disturb the blissful bed. 

Where love itself lies tranquil as the dead. 

For cruel guards my weeping girl immure, 

And heavy bolts her iron gate secure. 

Gate of my rival ! enemy to love ! 

May lightning blast thee, darted from above ! 

No, gentle gate, thou 'It listen to my prayer. 

Turn on thy noiseless hinge, and guide me to my fair. 

And, if a lover's phrensy wish'd thee ill. 

Heaven on himself avenge his guilty will. 

Eather, kind gate, recall my suppliant hours, 

And thy bright pillars hung with living flowers. 

Thou too, my Delia,' boldly brave thy guards — 

Venus herself the dauntless pair rewards ; 

And helps the boy who jealous walls explores, 

And helps the girl who opes forbidden doors ! 

To glide in silence from the downy bed. 
To mount the staircase with a noiseless tread. 


Hold the warm language of the varying eye, 
And kiss by tokens when the fool is by — 
Powers to the favour'd few by Venus given, 
Betray the cuckold-making aid of heaven. 
Such arts are theirs who fly from sluggard ease. 
Cross the dark moor, and in the tempest freeze. 
Till, safely nestling in their fair one's arms. 
They feel the glowing change exalt her charms. 

No lawless robber in my path shall rove. 
For sacred is the messenger of love ; 
Nor storm nor howling rain shall cloud my road. 
If Delia beckon to the dear abode ; 
Draw the soft bolt, and silently advise 
My sounding footsteps with her fearful eyes. 
With eager finger on her lip imprest, 
Impatient brow, and quickly-beating breast. 
Veil, veil your lamps, whoever travel nigh. 
The thefts of Venus shun the curious eye. 
Nor tread too loudly, nor inquire my name. 
Nor to my face advance your taper's flame. 
And ye, who chance to see, the sight forswear, 
And vow by all the gods ye were not there. 
The prating babbler shall confess with pain 
That Venus issued from the savage main. 
Nay, e'en your lord the tell-tale shall distrust. 
And scorn the lying rumour of your lust. 

So sang the witch, whose prophecy divine 
Assured my hopes, and made thee wholly mine. 
She draws the stars from heaven with influence strong. 
And turns the course of rapid streams by song ; 
Cleaves the firm ground, the dead with life inspires, 
Bids rattling bones start forth from burial fires. 
With magic yell the gathering ghosts commands, 
Or purifies with milk their parting bands. 
Wills she — the clouds of thunder disappear ! 
Wills she — dark whirlwinds overcast the sphere ! 
Sole mistress she of dire Medea's charms. 
Her power alone the dogs of hell disarms. 
A rhyme she framed, which if thou thrice rehearse, 
Thy lord shall yield such homage to the verse. 


That not a tale his spies relate of me, 
No, nor the hot embrace his eyes may see, 
Shall win his faith — but if my rivals dare 
To snatch the slightest favour from my fair. 
Her jealous lord shall every theft perceive. 
Know all he suffers, all he hears believe. 

Shall I too trust the sorceress' potent art, 
By herb, or song, to free my captive heart ? 
The lustral torches blazed at midnight hour. 
Fell the black victim to each magic power, 
And thus I pray'd — " Oh ! cure me not of love ! 
But Delia's breast with mutual fondness move ! 
I would not wish for freedom from my pains. 
Oh ! what were life unless I wore her chains ! " 



With wine, more wine, deceive thy master's care. 
Till creeping slumber soothe his troubled breast ; 

Let not a whisper stir the silent air. 
If hapless love a while consent to rest. 

Untoward guards beset my Cynthia's doors, 

, And cruel locks th' imprison'd fair conceal. 

May lightnings blast whom love in vain implores. 
And Jove's own thunder rive those bolts of steel. 

Ah, gentle door, attend my humble call, 

Nor let thy sounding hinge our thefts betray; 
So all my curses far from thee shall fall. 

We angry lovers mean not half we say. 
Remember now the flowery wreaths I gave, 

When first I told thee of my bold desires ; 
Nor thou, O Cynthia, fear the watchful slave, 

Venus will favour what herself inspires. 

She guides the youth who see not where they tread ; 

She shows the virgin how to turn the door. 
Softly to steal from off her silent bed. 

And not a step betray her on the floor. 

The fearless lover wants no beam of light ; 

The robber knows him, nor obstructs his way ; 
Sacred he wanders through the pat];iless night, 

Belongs to Venus, and can never stray. 


I scorn the chilling wind and beating rain, 
Nor heed cold watchings on the dewy ground, 

If all the hardships I for love sustain, 

With love's victorious joys at last be crown'd : 

With sudden step let none our bliss surprise. 
Or check the freedom of secure delight — 

Eash man, beware, and shut thy curious eyes, 
Lest angry Venus snatch their guilty sight. 

But shouldst thou see, th' important secret hide. 

Though question'd by the powers of earth and heaven : 

The prating tongue shall love's revenge abide, 
Still sue for grace, and never be forgiven. 

A wizard dame, the lover's ancient friend. 

With magic charm has deaft thy husband's ear ; 
At her command I saw the stars descend. 

And winged lightnings stop in mid career. 
I saw her stamp and cleave the solid ground, 

While ghastly spectres round us wildly roam ; 
I saw them hearken to her potent sound. 

Till, scared at day, they sought their dreary home. 

At her command the vigorous summer pines, 
And wintry clouds obscure the hopeful year ; 

At her strong bidding, gloomy winter shines, 
And vernal roses on the snows appear. 

She gave these charms, which I on thee bestow ; 

They dim the eye, and dull the jealous mind ; 
For me they make a husband nothing know. 

For me, and only me, they make him blind. 

But what did liiost this faithful heart surprise, 
She boasted that her skill could set it free : 

This faithful heart the boasted freedom flies ; 

How could it venture to abandon thee ? Ha'mmond. 


While you, Messala, plough th' iEgean sea, 
Oh sometimes kindly deign to think of me : 
Me, hapless me, Phasacian shores detain. 
Unknown, unpitied, and oppress'd with pain. 


Yet spare me, death, ah spare me, and retire : 
No weeping mother 's here to light my pyre : 
Here is no sister, with a sister's woe, 
Rich Syrian odours on the pile to throw : 
But chief, my soul's soft partner is not here. 
Her locks to loose, and sorrow o'er my bier. 

What though fair Delia my return implored. 
Each fane frequented, and each god adored ; 
What though they bade me every peril brave. 
And Fortune thrice auspicious omens gave ; 
All could not dry my tender Delia's tears. 
Suppress her sighs, or calm her ansious fears ; 
E'en as I strove to minister relief, 
Unconscious tears proclaim'd my heart-felt grief: 
Urged still to go, a thousand shifts I made, 
Birds now, now festivals my voyage stay'd : 
Or, if I struck my foot against the door. 
Straight I return'd, and wisdom was no more. 
Forbid by Cupid, let no swain depart ; 
Cupid is vengeful, and will wring his heart. 

What do your offerings now, my fair, avail ? 
Your Isis heeds not, and your cymbals fail ! 
What though array'd in sacred robes you stood, 
Fled man's embrace, and sought the purest flood ? 
While this I write, I sensibly decay, — 
" Assist me, Isis, drive my pains away : 
That you can every mortal ill remove, 
The numerous tablets in your temple prove : 
So shall my Delia, veil'd in votive white. 
Before your threshold sit for many a night ; 
And twice a day, her tresses all unbound. 
Amid your votaries famed, your praises sound : 
Safe to mj household gods may I return,- 
And incense monthly on their altars burn." _^ 

How blest man liv'd in Saturn's golden days. 
E'er distant climes were join'd by lengthen'd waya 
Secure the pine upon the mountain grew. 
Nor yet o'er billows in the ocean flew ; 
Then every clime a wild abundance bore. 
And man liv'd happy on his natal shore : 


For then no steed to feel the bit was broke, 

Then had no steer submitted to the yoke ; 

No house had gates, (blest times ! ) and, in the grounds, _ 

No scanty land-marks parceU'd out the bounds : 

From every oak redundant honey ran, 

And ewes spontaneous bore their milk to man : 

No deathful arms were forged, lio war was waged. 

No rapine plunder'd, no ambition raged. 

How changed, alas ! Now cruel Jove commands ; 

Gold fires the soul, and falchions arm our hands : 

Each day, the main unnumber'd lives destroys ; 

And slaughter, daily, o'er her myriads joys. ^^ 

Yet spare me, Jove, I ne'er disown'd thy sway, 

I ne'er was perjur'd ; spare me, Jove, I pray. 

But, if the Sisters have pronounced my doom. 
Inscribed be these upon my humble tomb. 
" Lo ! here inurn'd a youthful poet lies. 
Far from his Delia, and his native skies ! 
Far from the lov'd Messala, whom to please 
TibuUus foUow'd over land and seas." 

Then Love my ghost (for Love I still obey'd) 
Will grateful usher to th' Elysian shade : 
There joy and ceaseless revelry prevail ; 
There soothing music floats on every gale ; 
There painted warblers hop from spray to spray. 
And, wildly-pleasing, swell the general lay : 
There every hedge, untaught, with cassia blooms. 
And scents the ambient air with rich perfumes : 
There every mead a various plenty yields ; 
There lavish Flora paints the purple fields : 
With ceaseless light a brighter Phcebus glows, 
No sickness tortures, and no ocean flows ; 
But youths associate with the gentle fair, 
And stung with pleasure to the shade repair : 
With them Love wanders wheresoe'er they stray. 
Provokes to rapture, and inflames the play : 
But chief, the constant few, by death betray'd. 
Reign, crown'd with myrtle, monarchs of the shade. 

Not so the wicked ; far they drag their chains. 
By black lakes sever'd from the blissful plains ; 

TIBULLU8. 32 1 1 

Those should they pass, impassable the gate 
Where Cerberus howls, grim sentinel of fate. 
There snake-hair'd fiends with whips patrol around, 
Rack'd anguish bellows, and the deeps resound ; 
There he, who dared to tempt the queen of heaven, 
Upon an ever-turning wheel is driven : 
The Danaids there still strive huge casks to fill, 
But strive in vain, the casks elude their skill : 
There Pelops' sire, to quench his thirsty fires, 
Still tries the flood, and stiU the flood retires : 
There vultures tear the bow'ls, and drink the gore, 
Of Tityus, stretch'd enormous on the shore. 
Dread love, as vast as endless be their pain 
Who tempt my fair, or wish a long campaign. 

O let no rival your affections share, 
Long as this bosom beats, my lovely fair ! 
StiU on you let your prudent nurse attend ; 
She'll guard your honour, she's our common friend. 
Her tales of love your sorrowings will allay, 
And, in my absence, make my Delia gay : 
Let her o'er all your virgin-train preside. 
She'll praise th' industrious, and the lazy chide. 
But see ! on all enfeebling languors creep ; 
Their distaffs drop, they yawn, they nod, they sleep. 
Then, if the destinies propitious prove. 
Then will I rush, all passion, on my love : 
My wish'd return no messenger shall tell, 
I'll seem, my fair, as if from heaven I fell. 
A soft confusion flushes all your charms, 
Your graceful dishabille my bosom warms. 
You, Delia, fly and clasp me in your arms. 

For this surprise, ye powers of love, I pray. 
Post on, Aurora, bring the rosy day. Geainger. 


How well they lived in Saturn's golden times, 
Ere earth lay open to her farthest climes ; 
Ere hollow pine-trees mounted on the wave, 
And to the wind their swelling canvass gave ; 
Or sailors, wand'ring to a world unknown, 
Prest their deep bark with produce not their own. 

322 TlBULLUSi 

No lordly bull then dragg'd the pond'rous wain, 
Nor noble horse obey'd the slavish rein ; 
No house was guarded by the jealous wall, 
No selfish landmark robb'd the wealth of all. 
Spontaneous oaks distill'd their honey'd dews, 
Their milk was offer'd by the teeming ewes : 
War had not yet his iron front display'd. 
Nor savage craft contrived the murd'rous blade. 
Danger and death pursue the thunderer's reign. 
And cross, by countless paths, the land and main. 
Oh ! spare me, Jove ! no perjured tongue is mine. 
No impious curses hurl'd at names divine. 
Yet, if my fated length of life is gone. 
Be this inscription graved upon J3j.j stone, 
" Here young TibuUus slumbers with the dead, 
O'er earth and sea by loved Messala led." 

But I, who living yield to gentle love. 
Dying shall. seek the blest Elysian grove. 
There tuneful choirs o'er verdant meadows stray. 
And dance and song delight th' immortal day ; 
Ilncultur'd cassia scents the teeming ground. 
And od'rous roses flourish all around. 
There many a tender girl and favour'd boy 
Renew the wonted interchange of joy. 
There roam the pairs of guiltless lovers dead. 
With wreaths of myrtle on each youthful head. 

But Guilt's pale dens lie hid in night profound. 
Where sable floods rush horribly around ; 
Their snake-crown'd heads the hissing Furies rear. 
And the damn'd souls are hurried here and there ; 
His scorpion jaws black Cerberus expands, 
And at the brazen gate expecting stands ! 
There, on the rapid wheel is lust impaled, 
Lust that the queen of heaven herself assail'd. 
There Tityus, stretch'd at his enormous length, 
Feeds the keen vulture with his bleeding strength. 
There thirsting Tantalus, with eager eyes 
And outstretch'd hands, pursues the stream that flies. 
There the false brides who shed their husbands' blood, 
Through hollow vessels pour the ceaseless flood. 


There be the wretch who wishes me to rove, 
In painful absence from my only love. 

But rest for ever pure, my lovely bride, 
Thy aged nurse still watching at thy side. 
Telling sweet tales of seasons long gone by — 
While, at their lamps, the circling damsels ply 
The curious labours of the length'ning thread, 
Or o'er the distaff bend their drowsy head. 
Then, on a sudden, will thy lover come. 
As if from heaven descending to his home : 
No courier's speed my Delia shall prepare, 
But in her chance undress I'll find the fair. 
Then will she run these smiling eyes to meet. 
Loose her dark locks, and bare her snowy feet. 
Oh ! with what joy I'll strain her to my breast. 
While tears and tender murmurs speak the rest. Elton. 


So round my god may shady coverings bend, 
No sun-beams scorch thy face, no snows offend ! 
Whence are the fair so proud to win thy heart, 
Tet rude thy beard, and guiltless thou of art ? 
Naked thou stand'st, expos'd to wintry snows ! 
Naked thou stand'st when burning Sirius glows ! 
Thus I — and thus the garden-power replied, 
A crooked sickle glittering by his side. 


Take no repulse — at first what though they fly ! 
O'ercome at last, reluctance will comply. 
The vine in time full ripen'd clusters bears. 
And circling time brings back the rolling spheres : 

■ Those who understand the original, need not to be told the reasons 
■which obliged the translator to alter and omit many passages of this Elegy ; 
■which, ■with some few others of the same stamp, were probably those 
parts of Tibullus, which made the pious Anthony Possevin apply to heaven 
in prayer, to preserve him from temptation ■whenever he purposed to read 
oux poet. — Grainger. 

T 2 


In time soft rains through marble sap their way, 
And time taught man to tame fierce beasts of prey. 
Nor awed by conscience meanly dread to swear ; 
Love-oaths, unratified, wild tempests bear ! 
Banish then scruples, if you'd gain a heart ; 
Swear, swear by Pallas' locks, Diana's dart, 
By all that's most rever'd — if they require : 
Oaths bind not eager love, thank heaven's good sire ! 
Nor be too slow ; your slowness you'll deplore ; 
Time posts ; and, oh ! youth's raptures soon are o'er : 
Now forests bloom, and purple earth looks gay ; 
Bleak winter blows, and all her charms decay : 
How soon the steed to age's stifihess yields. 
So late a victor in th' Olympic fields ? 
I've seen the aged oft lament their fate, 
That senseless they had learnt to live too late. 
Ye partial gods, and can the snake renew 
His youthful vigour and his burnish'd hue ? 
But youth and beauty past, is art in vain 
To bring the coy deserters back again ? 


Jove gives alone the powers of wit and wine, 
In youth immortal, spite of years, to shine. 


Yield prompt compliance to the maid's desires ; 
A prompt compliance fans the lover's fires : 
Go pleased where'er she goes, though long the way, 
Though the fierce dog-star dart his sultry ray ; 
Though painted Iris gird the bluish sky. 
And sure portends that rattling storms are nigh : 
Or, if the fair one pant for sylvan fame. 
Gay drag the meshes and provoke the game : 
Nay, should she choose to risk the driving gale, 
Or steer, or row, or agile hand the sail : 
No toil, though weak, though fearful, thou forbear ; 
No toils should tire you, and no dangers scare. 
Occasion smiles, then snatch an ardent kiss ; 
The coy may struggle, but will grant the bliss : 
The bliss obtain'd, the fictious struggle past, 
Unbid, they'll clasp you in their arms at last. 



Alas ! in such degenerate days as these, 
No more love's gentle wiles the beauteous please ! 
If poor, all gentle stratagems are vain ! 
The fair ones languish now alone for gain ! 
Oh may dishonour be the wretch's share. 
Who first with hateful gold seduced the fair ! 


Ye charming dames, prefer the tuneful choir. 
Nor meanly barter heavenly charms for hire. 
What cannot song ? The purple locks that glow'd 
On Nisus' head, harmonious song bestow'd ! 
What cannot strains ? By tuneful strains alone 
Fair iv'ry, Pelops, on thy shoulder shone ! 
While stars with nightly radiance gild the pole, 
Earth boasts her oaks, or mighty waters roll, 
The fair, whose beauty poets deign to praise. 
Shall bloom uninjur'd in poetic lays : 
While she who hears not when the Muses call. 
But flies their fav'rites, gold's inglorious thrall ! 
Shall prove, believe the bard, or soon, or late, 
A dread example of avenging fate ! 

Soft, flattering songs, the Cyprian queen approves : 
And aids the suppliant swain with all her loves. 


The god, no novice in th' intriguing trade, 
This answer, Titius, to my question made : 
But caution bids you fly th' insidious fair, 
And paints the perils of their eyes and air ; 
Nor these alone devoted man subdue. 
Devoted man their slightest actions woo. 

Be cautious those who list — ^but ye who know 
Desire's hot fever, and contempt's chill woe. 
Me grateful praise — contempt shall pain no more ; 
But wish meet wish, instructed by my lore : 
By various means, while others seek for fame, 
Scom'd love to counsel be my noblest aim. 


Wide stands my gate for all — I rapt foresee 

The time, when I Love's oracle shall be ! 

When round my seat shall press th' enamour'd throng, 

Attend my motions, and applaud my song. 

Alas ! my hopes are fled, my wiles are vain ; 
The fair I dote on treats me with disdain : 
Yet spare me, charmer, your disdain betrays 
To witty laughter my too boastful lays. Grainger. 


Of late I boasted I could happy be, 

Resume the man, and not my Delia see ! 

My boasts of manhood, boasts of bliss are vain; 

Back to my bondage I return again ! 

And like a top am whirl'd, which boys, for sport, 

Lash on the pavement of a level court ! 

What can atone, my fair, for crimes like these ? 
I'll bear with patience, use me as you please ! 
Yet, by Love's shafts, and by your braided hair, 
By all the joys we stole, your suppliant spare. 
When sickness dimm'd of late your radiant eyes. 
My restless, fond petitions won the skies. 
Thrice I with sulphur purified you round, 
And thrice the rite, with songs, th' enchantress bound : 
The cake, by me thrice sprinkled' put to flight 
The de&th-denouncing phantoms of the night : 
And I nine times, in linen garbs array'd. 
In silent night, nine times to Trivia pray'd. 
What did I not ? Yet what reward have I ? 
You love another, your preserver fly ! 
He tastes the sweet effects of all my cares. 
My fond lustrations, and my solemn prayers. 

Are these the joys my madding fancy drew. 
If young-eyed health restored your rosy hue ? 
I fondly thought, sweet maid, oh thought in vain ! 
With' you to live a blithesome village swain. 
When yellow Ceres asks the reaper's hand, 
Delia (said I) wiU guard the reaper's band ; 


Delia will keep, when hinds unload the vine, 
The choicest grapes for me, the richest wine : 
My flocks she'll count, and oft will sweetly deign 
To clasp some prattler of my menial train : 
With pious care will load each rural shrine. 
For ripen'd crops a golden sheaf assign. 
Gates for my fold, rich clusters for my vine : 
No, no domestic care shall touch my soul ; 
You, Delia, reign despotic o'er the whole ; 
And will Messala fly from pomp of state, 
And deign to enter at my lowly gate ? 
The choicest fruitage that my trees afford 
Delia will cull herself to deck the board ; 
And wondering, such transcendent worth to see, 
The fruit present, thy blushing hand-maid she. 

Such were the fond chimeras of my brain. 
Which now the winds have wafted o'er the main. 

power of Love, whom still my soul obey'd, 
What has my tongue against thy mother said ? 
Guiltless of ill, unmark'd with incest's stain, 

1 stole no garland from her holy fane : 

For crimes like these I'd abject crawl the ground, 
Kiss her dread threshold, and my forehead wound. 

But ye who, falsely wise, deride my pains. 
Beware j your hour approaches — love has chains. 
I've known the young, who ridiculed his rage. 
Love's humblest vassals when oppress'd with age : 
Each art I've known them try to win the fair, 
Smooth their hoarse voice, and dress their scanty hair : 
I've known them, in the street, her maid detain ; 
And weeping, beg her to assist their pain. 
At such preposterous love each school-boy sneers ; 
Shuns, as an omen ; or pursues with fleers. 

Why do you crush your slave, fair queen of joy ? 
Destroying me, your harvest you destroy! Grainger. 


With wine I strove to soothe my love-sick soul. 
But vengeful Cupid dash'd with tears the bowl: 


All mad with rage, to kinder nymphs I flew ; 
But vigour fled me, when I thought on you. 
Balk'd of the rapture, from my arms they run, 
Swear I'm devoted, and my converse shun ! 

By what dire witchcraft am I thus betray'd ? 
Your face and hair unnerve me, matchless maid : 
Not more celestial look'd the sea-born fair. 
Received by Peleus from her pearly chair. 
A rich admirer his addresses paid. 
And bribed my mistress by a beldam's aid. 
From you my ruin, curst procuress, rose ; 
What imprecations shall avenge my woes ? 
May heaven, in pity to my sufierings, shed 
Its keenest mischief on your plotting head ! 
The ghosts of those you robb'd of love's delight. 
In horrid visions haunt your irksome night ! 
And, on the chimney, may the boding owl 
Your rest disturb, and terrify your soul ! 
By famine stung, to churchyards may you run ; 
There feast on offals hungry wolves would shun ! 
Or howling frantic, in a tatter'd gown, 
Fierce mastiffs bait you through each crowded town ! 

'Tis done ! a lover's curse the gods approve ; 
But keenest vengeance fires the queen of love. 
Leave then, my fair, the crafty, venal jade ; 
What passion yields not, when such foes invade ? 

Your hearts, ye fair, does modest merit claim ? 
Though small his fortunes, feed his gentle flame ; 
For genuine love's soft raptures would ye know ? 
These raptures merit can alone bestow ; 
The sons of opulence are folly's care, 
But want's rough child is sense and honour's heir. 

In vain we sing — the gate still bolted stands ; 
Come, vengeance, let us burst its sullen bands. 
Learn, happy rival, by my wrongs to know 
Your fate ; since Fortune governs all below. 


TIBULLUS. 329 9 


Love still invites me with a smiling eye ! 
Beneath his smiles what pains and anguish lie ! 
Yet since the gods, dread power, must yield to thee, 
What laurels canst thou gain from conquering me ? 
Me Delia loved ; but by thy subtle wiles, 
The fair, in secret, on another smiles : 
That my suspicion's false, 'tis true, she swears ; 
And backs her imprecations with her tears ! 
False fair, your oaths and Syren tears refrain ; 
Tour Syren tears and oaths no credit gain ; 
For when your lord suspected me of yore. 
As much you wept, as many oaths you swore. 

Yet wherefore blame I Love ? the blame is mine ; 
I, wretched I, first taught her to design ! 
I first instructed her her spies to foil ; 
Back on myself my wanton arts recoil : 
Herbs of rare energy my skill supplied. 
All marks of too-fond gallantry to hide ! 
More artful now, alone the wanton lies ; 
And new pretexts her cozening brains devise. 

Uncautious lord of a too cunning spouse ! 
Admittance grant me, she shall keep her vows ! 
Be warn'd, my friend, observe her when her tongue 
Commends in wanton phrase the gay-dress'd young ; 
Oh let her not her heaving bosom bare. 
Exposed to every fop's immodest stare. 
When leaning on the board, with flowing wine. 
She seems to draw some inconsiderate line ; 
Take heed, take heed, (I know the warning true,) 
These random lines assign an interview. 
Nor let your wife to fanes so frequent roam, 
A modest wife's best temple is at home : 
But if your prohibitions all are vain, 
Give me the hint, I'll dodge her to the fane; 
What though the goddess snatch my curious sight, 
I'll bring her wanton privacies to light. 

Some gem she wore, I'd oft pretend to view. 
But squeez'd her fingers unperceiv'd of you : 


Oft with full racy bowls I seal'd your eyes, 
Water my bev'rage, and obtain'd the prize. 
Yet since I tell, forgive the pranks I play'd, 
Love prompted all, and Love must be obey'd ! 

Nay, 'twas at me (be now the truth avow'd) 
Your watchful mastiff used to bark so loud ; 
But now some other, with insidious wait, 
Intent observes each creaking of your gate. 
At which, whoever of the house appears. 
Passing, the mien of quick despatch he wears ; 
But comes again the minute they remove. 
And coughs, sure signal of impatient love ! 

What boots, though marriage gave a wife so fair. 
If careless you, or she eludes your care ? 
While men are artful, and your wife can feign. 
Vain are your brazen bolts, your mastiffs vain. 

Cold to the raptures of the genial bed. 
She lays the fault upon an aching head : 
'Tis false ; the wanton for some other sighs ; 
From this her coolness, this her aches arise. 

Then, then be warn'd, intrust her to my care ; 
Whips, chains I laugh at, if you grant my prayer. 
" Hence from my ward, ye sparkish essenced beau.s ; 
Illegal love oft springs from essenced clothes." 
Where'er she walks, not distant I'll attend, 
And guard your honour from the casual friend ! 
" Off, gallants, off: for so the gods ordain, 
So the dread priestess in unerring strain ! " 
(When holy fury fires the frantic dame, 
She mocks all torture, and exults in flame ; 
Her snow-white arms and heaving breast she tears ; 
And with the gushing gore Bellona smears ; 
Deep in her side she plants the glittering sword ; 
And the dread goddess prompts each fateful word.) 
" Ye youths, beware, nor touch whom Cupid guards, 
Unpunish'd none attempt his gentle wards : 
As my blood flows, and as these ashes fly. 
Their wealth shall perish, and their manhood die.'' 

She menaced then the fair with dreadful pain ; 
E'en were you guilty, may her threats be vain : 


Not on your own account ; your mother's age, 
Tour worthy mother deprecates my rage : 
When Love and Fortune smiled, her gentle aid 
Oft me conducted to the blooming maid ; 
My footsteps, wakeful, from afar she knew, 
Unbarr'd the gate, nor fear'd the nightly dew : 
Half of my life's long thread I'd pleas'd resign, 
My sweet conductress, could I lengthen thine ! 
Still, still, though much abus'd, I Delia prize ; 
She 's still thy daughter, and enchants my eyes. 

Tet though no coy cimarr invest the fair. 
Nor vestal fillet bind her auburn hair ; 
Teach her what decent modesty requires, 
To crown my fire, alone, with equal fires. 
Me too confine ; and if, in wanton praise 
Of other maids, my tongue luxuriant strays. 
Let thy suspicion then no limits know. 
Insult me, spurn me, as thy greatest foe ! 
But if your jealousies are built in air. 
And patient love your usage cannot bear ; 
What wrath may perpetrate, my soul alarms. 
For wrath, I warn you, heeds not female charms. 
Nor yet be chaste from mean unamorous fear ; 
Be still most modest when I am not near. 

For those, whom neither wit nor worth secure. 
Grow old, unpitied ; palsied, worthless, poor ; 
Yet with each servile drudgery they strive. 
To keep their being's wretchedness alive ! 
The gay regard their woe with laughing eyes ; 
Swear they deserve it, and absolve the skies ! 
Nor Venus less exults ! " May such a fate, 
(From heaven she prays) upon th' inconstant wait." 

The same my wish ! but oh may we two prove, 
In age, a pattern of unalter'd love I Grainger. 


" This day" (the Fates foretold in sacred song. 
And singing drew the vital twine along) 


" He comes, nor shall the gods the doom recall. 
He comes, whose sword shall quell the rehel Gaul. 
With all her laurels him shall Conquest crown, 
And nations shudder at his awful frown ; 
Smooth Atur, now that flows through peaceful lands, 
Shall fly afirighted at his hostile bands." 
'Tis done ! this prophecy Eome joys to see, 
Far-famed Messala, now fulfiU'd in thee : 
Long triumphs ravish the spectators' eyes, 
And fetter'd chieftains of enormous size : 
An ivory car, with steeds as white as snow. 
Sustains thy grandeur through the pompous show. 

Some little share in those exploits I bore ; 
Witness Tarbella, and the Santoigne shore ; 
Witness the land where steals the silent Soane, 
Where rush the Garonne, and th' impetuous Ehone ; 
Where Loire, enamour'd of Carnutian bounds. 
Leads his blue water through the yellow grounds. 

Or shall his other acts adorn my theme ? — 
Fair Cydnus, winding with a silver stream ? 
Taurus, that in the clouds his forehead hides, 
And rich Cilicia from the world divides ; 
Taurus, from which unnumbei;'d rivers spring, 
The savage seat of tempests, shall I sing ? 
Why should I tell, how sacred through the skies 
Of Syrian cities, the white pigeon flies ? 
Why sing of Tyrian towers, which Neptune laves ; 
Whence the first vessel, venturous, stemm'd the waves ? 
How shall the bard the secret source explore, 
Whence, father Nile, thou draw'st thy watery store ? 
Thy fields ne'er importune for rain the sky, . 
Thou dost benignly all their wants supply : 
As Egypt, Apis mourns in mystic lays. 
She joins thy praises to Osiris' praise. 

Osiris first contrived the crooked plough, 
And puU'd ripe apples from the novice bough ; 
He taught the swains the savage mould to wound. 
And scatter'd seed-corn in th' unpractised ground. 
He first with poles sustain'd the reptile vine. 
And show'd its infant tendrils how to twine ; 


Its wanton shoots inst3ructed man to shear, 
Subdue their wildness, and mature the year : 
Then too the ripen'd cluster first was trod ; • 
Then in gay streams its cordial soul bestow'd ; 
This as swains quaff'd, spontaneous numbers came, 
They praised the festal cask, and hymn'd thy name ; 
All ecstasy, to certain time they bound, 
And beat in measured awkwardness the ground. 
Gay bowls serene the wrinkled front of care ; 
Gay bowls the toil-oppressed swain repair ! 
And let the slave the laughing goblet drain ; 
He blithesome sings, though manacles enchain. 

Thee sorrow flies, Osiris, god of wine ; 
But songs, enchanting Love, and dance are thine : 
But flowers and ivy thy fair head surround, 
And a loose saffron mantle sweeps the ground. 
With purple robes invested, now you glow ; 
The shrine is shown, and flutes melodious blow : 
Come then, my god, but come bedew'd with wine ! 
Attend the rites, and in the dance combine ; 
The rites and dances are to Genius due ! 
Benign Osiris, stand confess'd to view ! 
Rich unguents drop already from his hair, 
His head and neck soft flowery garlands share ! 
O come, so shall my grateful incense rise. 
And cates of honey meet thy laughing eyes ! 

On thee, Messala, ('tis my fervent prayer,) 
May heaven bestow a wise, a warlike heir : 
In whom, increased, paternal worth may shine. 
Whose acts may add a lustre to thy line, 
And transports give thee in thy life's decline. 

But should the gods my fervent prayer deny, 
Thy fame, my glorious friend, shall never die. 
Long as (thy bounteous work) the well-made way 
Shall its broad pavement to the sun display, 
The bards of Alba shall in lofty rhyme 
Transmit thy glory down the tide of time : 
They sing from gratitude : nor less the clown 
Whom love or business have detain'd in town 


Till late, as home he safety plods along, 
Thee chants, Messala, in his village song. 

Blest morn, which still my grateful Muse shall sing, 
Oft rise, and with you greater blessings bring. 



In vain would lovers hide their infant-smart 
From me, a master in the amorous art ; 
I read fheir passion in their mien and eyes, 
O'erhear their whispers, and explain their sighs. 
This skill no Delphian oracles bestow'd. 
No augurs taught me, and no victims show'd ; 
But Love my wrists with magic fillets bound, 
Lash'd me, and lashing, mutter'd many a sound. 
No more then, Marathus, indifference feign, 
Else vengeful Venus will enhance your pain ! 

What now, sweet youth, avails your anxious care, 
So oft to essence, oft to change your hair ? 
What though cosmetics all their aid supply. 
And every artifice of dress you try ? 
She's not obliged to bredes, to gems, to clothes. 
Her charms to nature Pholoe only owes. 

What spells devote you ? say, what philtres bind ? 
What midnight sorceress fascinates your mind ? 
Spells can seduce the corn from neighbouring plains ! 
The headlong serpent halts at magic strains ! 
And did not cymbals stop thy prone career, 
A spell thee, Luna, from thy orb would tear ! 

Why do I magic for your passion blame. 
Magic is useless to a perfect frame ! 
You squeez'd her hands, your arms around her threw, 
Join'd lip to lip, and hence your passion grew. 

Cease then, fair maid, to give your lover pain ; 
Love hates the haughty, will avenge the swain. 
See youth vermilions o'er his modest .face ! 
Can riches equal such a boy's embrace ? 
Then ask no bribe — when age affects the gay, 
Your every smile let hoary dotage pay ; 


But you your arms around the stripling throw, 
And scam the treasure monarchs can bestow. 
But she who gives to age her charms for pay,, 
May her wealth perish and her bloom decay. 
Then when impatience thrills in every vein, 
May manhood shun her, and the young disdain. 

Alas ! when age has silver'd o'er the head, 
And youth that feeds the lamp of love is fled, 
In vain the toilette charms ; 'tis vain to try. 
Grey scanty locks with yellow nuts to die ; 
You strip the tell-tales vainly from their place, 
And vainly strive to mend an aged face. 

Then in thine eyes while youth triumphant glows, 
And with his flowers thy cheeks, my fair one, sows, 
Incline thine heart to love and gentle play. 
Youth, youth has rapid wings, and flies away ! 
The fond old lover vilify, disdain ; 
What praise can crown you from a stripling's pain ? 
Spare then the lovely boy ; his beauties die, 
By no dire sickness sent him from the sky : 
The gods are just ; you, Pholoe, are to blame ; 
His sallow colour from your coyness came. 

Oh, wretched youth ! how oft, when absent you, 
Groans rend his breast, and tears his cheeks bedew ! 
" Why dost thou rack me with contempt ? " he cries, 
" The willing ever can elude their spies. 
Had you, oh had you felt what now I feel, 
Venus would teadh you from your spies to steal. 
I can breathe low ; can snatch the melting kiss, 
And noiseless ravish Love's enchanting bliss ; 
At midnight I securely grope my way. 
The floor tread noiseless, noiseless turn the key. 
Poor fruitless skill ! my skill if she despise, 
And cruel from the bed of rapture flies. 
Or if a promise haply I obtain. 
That she will recompense at night my pain ; 
How am I duped ! I wakeful listen round. 
And think I hear her in each casual sound. 
Perish the wiles of Love and arts of dress I 
In russet weeds I'll shroud my wretchedness. 


The wiles of Love and arts of dress are vain, 
My fair to soften and admittance gain." 

Youth, weep no more, your eyes are swoln with tears ; 
No more complain, for oh ! she stops her ears. 
The gods, I warn you, hate the haughty fair, 
Reject their incense, and deny their prayer. 
This youth, this Marathiis, who wears your chains. 
Late laugh'd at love, and ridiculed its pains ! 
Th' impatient lover in the street would stay ! 
Nor dreamt that vengeance would his crimes repay. 
Now, now he moans his past misdeeds with tears, 
A prey to love, and all its frantic fears : 
Now he exclaims at female scorn and hate ; 
And from his soul abhors a bolted gate ! 

Like vengeance waits you, trust th' unerring Muse, 
If still you 're coy, and still access refuse ! 
Then how you'll wish, when old, contemn'd of all. 
But vainly wish, these moments to recall ! Gkaingee. 


Why did you swear by all the powers above, 
Yet never meant to crown my longing love ? 
Wretch, though at first the perjured deed you hide, 
Wrath comes with certain, though with tardy stride ; 
Yet, yet, offended gods, my charmer spare ! 
Yet pardon the first fault of one so fair ! 

For gold the careful farmer ploughs the plain, 
And joins his oxen to the cumbrous wain ; 
For gold, through seas that stormy winds obey, 
By stars, the sailor steers his watery way. 
Yet, gracious gods, this gold from man remove, 
That wicked metal bribed the fair I love. ■ 

Soon shall you suffer greatly for your crime, 
A weary wanderer in a foreign clime ; 

' The translator has been oWiged to use pretty much the same freedom 
with this Elegy as with the fourth. Had the other Elegies of TibuUus 
been like these two, he had never taken the trouble of translating them. 
But, as both in this version are new modelled, it is hoped that neither of 
them can shock the most delicate modesty. 


Your hair shall change, and boasted bloom decay, 
By wintry tempests and the solar ray. 

" Beware of gold," how oft did I advise ! 
" From tempting gold what mighty mischiefs rise ! 
Love's generous power," I said, " with ten-fold pain, 
The wretch will rack, who sells her charms for gain. 
Let torture all her cruelties exert. 
Torture is pastime to a venal heart. 

. " Nor idly dream your gallantries to hide, 
The gods are ever on the suflFerer's side. 
With sleep or wine o'ercome, so fate ordains. 
You'll blab the secret of your impious gains." 

Thus oft I warn'd you ; this augments my shame ; 
My sighs, tears, homage, henceforth I disclaim. 

" No wealth shall bribe my constancy," you swore ; 
" Be mine the bijrd," you sigh'd, " I crave no more : 
Not all Campania shall my heart entice, 
For thee Campania's autumns I despise. 
Let Bacchus in Falernian vineyards stray. 
Not Bacchus' vineyards shall my faith betray.'' 

iSuch strong professions, in so soft a strain. 
Might well deceive a captivated swain ; 
Such strong professions might aversion charm, 
Slow doubt determine, and indifference warm. 
Nay more, you wept, unpractised to betray, 
I kiss'd your cheeks, and wiped the tears away. 

But if I tempting gold unjustly blame, 
And you have left me for another flame, 
May he, like you, seem kind, like you, deceive, 
And oh may you, like cheated me, believe. 

Oft I by night the torch myself would bear. 
That none our tender converse might o'erhear ; 
When least expected, oft some youth I led, 
A youth all beauty, to the genial bed, 
And tutor'd him your conquest to complete. 
By soft enticements, and a fond deceit. 

By these 1 foolish hoped to gain your love ! 
Who than TibuUus could more cautious prove ? 


Fired with uncommon powers, I swept the lyre, 
And sent you melting strains of soft desire. 
The thought o'erspreads my face with conscious shame. 
Doom, doom them victims to the seas or flame. 
No verse be theirs, who Love's soft fires profane, 
And sell inestimable joys for gain. 

But you who first the lovely maid decoy'd, 
By each adulterer be your wife enjoy'd. 
And when each youth has rifled all her charms, 
May bed-gowns guard her from your loathed arras ! 
May she, oh may she like your sister prove, 
As famed for drinking, far more famed for love ! 
'Tis true, the bottle is her chief delight. 
She knows no better way to pass the night ; 
Your wife more knowing can the night improve, 
To joys of Bacchus joins the joys of love. 

Think'st thou for thee the toilette is her care ? 
For thee, that fillets bind her well-dress'd hair ? 
For thee, that Tyrian robes her charms enfold ? 
For thee, her arms are deck'd with burnish'd gold ? 
By these, some youth the wanton would entice. 
For him she dresses, and for him she sighs ; 
To him she prostitutes, unawed by shame. 
Your house, your pocket, and your injured fame : 
Nor blame her conduct, say, ye young, what charms 
Can beauty taste in gout and age's arms ? 

Less nice my fair one, she for money can 
Caress a gouty, impotent old man ; 
thou by generous Love too justly blamed ! 
All, all that Love could give, my passion claim'd. 
Yet since thou couldst so mercenary prove, 
The more deserving shall engross my love : 
Then thou wilt weep when these adored you see ; 
Weep on, thy tears will transport give to me. 
To Venus I '11 suspend a golden shield. 
With this inscription graved upon the field : 

" Tibullus, freed at last from amorous woes, 
^ This offering. Queen of Bliss, on thee bestows : 
And humbly begs, that henceforth thou wilt guard 
From such a passion thy devoted bard." Grainger. 



Who was the first that forged the deadly blade ? 
Of rugged steel his savage soul was made ; 
By him, his bloody flag ambition waved, 
And grisly carnage through the battle raved. 
Yet wherefore blame him ? we're ourselves to blame ; 
Arms first were forged to kill the savage game : 
Death-dealing battles were unknown of old ; 
Death-dealing battles took their rise from gold. 
When beechen bowls on oaken tables stood, 
When temperate acorns were our fathers' food, 
The swain slept peaceful with his flocks around, 
No trench was open'd and no fortress frown'd. 

Oh had I lived in gentle days like these. 
To love devoted and to home-felt ease ; 
Compell'd I had not been those arms to wear, 
Nor had the trumpet forced me from the fair ; 
But now I'm dragg'd to war, perhaps my foe 
E'en now prepares th' inevitable blow ! 

Come then, paternal gods, whose help I've known 
From birth to manhood, still protect your own. 
Nor blush, my gods, though carved of ancient wood. 
So carved in our forefathers' times you stood ; 
And though in no proud temples you were praised, 
Nor foreign incense on your altars blazed. 
Yet white-robed faith conducted every swain. 
Yet meek-eyed piety serened the plain ; [hair, 

While clustering grapes, or wheat-wreaths round your 
Appeased your anger, and engaged your care : 
Or dulcet cakes himself the farmer paid, 
When crown'd his wishes by your powerful aid ; 
While his fair daughter brought with her from home 
The luscious ofiering of a honey-comb : 
If now you'll aid me in the hour of need, 
Your care I'll recompense — a boar shall biped. 
In white array'd, I'U myrtle baskets bear. 
And myrtle foliage round my temples wear : 
In arms redoubtable let others shine. 
By Mars protected mow the hostile line ; 


You let me please, my head with roses crown, 

And every care in flowing goblets drown ; 

Then when I'm joyous let the soldier tell, 

What fogs were captived and what leaders fell ; 

Or on the board describe with flowing wine, 

The fijrious onset and the flying line. 

For reason whispers. Why will short-lived man 

By war contract his too contracted span ? 

Yet when he leaves the cheerful realms of light. 

No laughing bowls, no harvests cheer the sight. 

But howl the damn'd, the triple monster roars. 

And Charon grumbles on the Stygian shores : 

By fiery lakes the blasted phantoms yell, 

Or shroud their anguish in the depths of hell. 

In a thatch'd cottage happier he by far. 
Who never hears of arms, of gold, or war. 
His chaste embrace a numerous ofispring crown. 
He courts not fortune's smile, nor dreads her frown : 
While lenient baths at home his wife prepares. 
He and his sons attend their fleecy cares. 
As old, as poor, as peaceful may I be. 
So guard my flocks, and such an oflTspring see. 
Meantime, soft Peace, descend ; oh bless our plains ! 
Soft Peace to plough with oxen taught the swains. 
Peace plants the orchard and matures the vine. 
And first gay-laughing prest the ruddy wine ; 
The father quaffs, deep quaff his joyous friends. 
Yet to his son a well-stored vault descends. 

Bright shine the ploughshare, our support and joy ! 
But rust, deep rust, the veteran's arms destroy ! 

The villager, (his sacred offerings paid 
In the dark grove and consecrated shade,) 
His wife and sons, now darkness parts the throng. 
Drives home, and whistles as he reels along. 
Then triumphs Venus ; then love-feuds prevail ; 
The youth all jealous then the fair assail ; 
Doors, windows fly, no deference they pay. 
The chastest suffer in th' ungentle fray : 
These beat their breasts and melt in moving tears ; 
The lover weeps and blames his rage and fears ; 


Love sits between, unmoved vcith tears and sighs, 
And with incentives sly the feud supplies. 

Ye youths, though stung with taunts, of blows beware ; 
They, they are impious, who can beat the fair ': 
If much provoked, or rend their silken zone, 
Or on their tresses be your anger shown : 
But if nor this your passion can appease. 
Until the charmer weep, the charmer tease ! 
Blest anger, if the fair dissolves in tears ! 
Blest youth, her fondness undisguised appears ! 
But crush the wretch, O war, with all thy woes, 
Who to rough usage adds the crime of blows. 

Bland Peace, descend with plenty on our plains. 
And bless with ease and laughing sport the swains. 




Attend ! and favour ! as our sires ordain. 

The fields we lustrate, and the rising grain : 

Come, Bacchus, and thy horns with grapes surround ; 

Come, Ceres, with thy wheaten garland crown'd ; 

This hallow'd day suspend each swain his toil, 

Rest let the plough, and rest th' uncultured soil : 

Unyoke the steer, his racks heap high with hay. 

And deck with wreaths his honest front to-day. 

Be all your thoughts to this grand work applied ! 

And lay, ye thrifty fair, your wool aside ! 

Hence I command you mortals from the rite. 

Who spent in amorous blandishment the night. 

The vernal powers in chastity delight. 

But come, ye pure, in spotless garbs array'd ! 

For you the solemn festival is made ; 

Come ! follow thrice the victim round the lands ! 

In running water purify your hands ! 


See ! to the flames the willing victim come ! 

Ye swains with olive crown'd, be dumb ! be dumb ! 

" From ills, O sylvan gods, our limits shield, 

To-day we purge the farmer and the field ; 

Oh let no weeds destroy the rising grain ; 

By no fell prowler be the lambkin slain ; 

So shall the hind dread penury no more. 

But gaily smiling o'er his plenteous store, 

With liberal hand shall larger billets bring. 

Heap the broad hearth, and hail the genial spring. 

His numerous bond-slaves all in goodly rows, 

With wicker huts your altars shaU. enclose. 

That done, they'll cheerly laugh, and dance, and play. 

And praise your goodness in their uncouth lay." 

The gods assent ! see ! see ! those entrails show 
That heaven approves of what is done below ! 
Now quaff Falernian, let my Chian wine, 
Pour'd from the cask, in massy goblets shine ! 
Drink deep, my friends ; all, all, be madly gay, 
'Twere irreligion not to reel to-day ! 
Health to Messala, every peasant toast. 
And not a letter of his name be lost ! 

O come, my friend, whom Gallic triumphs grace. 
Thou noblest splendour of an ancient race ; 
Thou whom the arts all emulously crown. 
Sword of the state, and honour of the gown ; 
My theme is gratitude, inspire my lays ! 
Oh be my Genius ! while I strive to praise 
The rural deities, the rural plain. 
The use of foodful corn they taught the swain. 
They taught man first the social hut to raise, 
And thatch it o'er with turf, or leafy sprays : 
They first to tame the furious bull essay'd. 
And on rude wheels the rolling carriage laid. 
Man left his savage ways ; the garden glow'd, 
Fruits not their own admiring trees bestow'd. 
While through the thirsty ground meandering runnels 

There bees of sweets despoil the breathing spring, 
And to their cells the dulcet plunder bring. 


The ploughman first to soothe the toilsome day, 
Chanted in measur'd feet his sylvan lay : 
And, seed-time o'er, he first in blithesome vein, 
Piped to his household gods the hymning strain. 
Then first the press with purple wine o'erran. 
And cooling water made it fit for man. 
The village lad first made a wreath of flowers 
To deck in spring the tutelary powers : 
Blest be the country, yearly there the plain 
Yields, when the dog-star burns, the golden grain ; 
Thence too thy chorus, Bacchus, first began. 
The painted clown first laid the tragic plan. 
A goat, the leader of the shaggy throng, 
The village sent it, recompensed the song. 
There too the sheep his woolly treasure wears ; 
There too the swain his woolly treasure shears ; 
This to the thirsty dame long work supplies ; 
The distaff hence, and basket took their rise. 
Hence too the various labours of the loom, 
Thy praise, Minerva, and Arachne's doom ! 
Mid mountain herds Love first drew vital air, 
Unknown to man, and man had nought to fear ; 
'Gainst herds, his bow th' unskilful archer drew ; 
Ah my pierced heart, an archer now too true ! 
Now herds may roam untouch'd, 'tis Cupid's joy, 
The brave to vanquish, and to fix the coy. 
The youth whose heart the soft emotion feels, 
Nor sighs for wealth, nor waits at grandeur's heels ; 
Age fired by Love is touch'd by shame no more. 
But blabs its follies at the fair one's door ! 
Led by soft Love, the tender, trembling fair 
Steals to her swain, and cheats suspicion's care. 
With outstretched arms she wins her darkling way. 
And tiptoe listens that no noise betray ! 

Ah wretched those on whom dread Cupid frowns ! 
How happy they whose mutual choice he crowns ! 
Will Love partake the banquet of the day ? 
O come — but throw thy burning shafts away. 

Ye swains, begin to mighty Love the song. 
Your songs, ye swains, to mighty Love belong I 


Breathe out aloud your wishes for my fold, 
Your own soft vows in whispers may be told. 
But hark ! loud mirth and music fire the crowd — 
Ye now may venture to request aloud ! 

Pursue your sports ; night mounts her curtain'd wain ; 
The dancing stars compose her filial train ; 
Black muffled sleep steals on with silent pace, 
And dreams flit last, imaginations race ! GtRAIngeh. 


EiSE, happy morn, without a cloud arise ! 
This morn, Cornutus blest his mother's' eyes ! 
Hence each unholy wish, each adverse sound, 
As we his altar's hallow'd verge surround ! 
Let rich Arabian odours scent the skies. 
And sacred incense from his altar rise ; 
Implored, thou tutelary god, descend ! 
And deck'd with flowery wreaths the rites attend ! 
Then as his brows with precious unguents flow, 
Sweet sacred cakes and liberal wine bestow. 

Genius, grant whate'er my friend desires ; 
The cake is scatter'd, and the flame aspires ! 
Ask then, my noble friend, whate'er you want : 
What, silent still ? your prayer the god will grant : 
Uncovetous of rural wide domains, 
You beg no woody hills, no cultured plains : 
Not venal, you request no Eastern stores, 
Where ruddy watgrs lave the gemmy shores : 
Your wish I guess ; you wish a beauteous spouse, 
Joy of your joy, and faithful to your vows. 
'Tis done ! my friend ! see nuptial Love appears ! 
See ! in his hand a yellow zone he bears ! 
A yellow zone, that spite of years shall last. 
And heighten fondness, e'en when beauty's past. 

With happy signs, great power, confirm our prayer. 
With endless concord bless the married pair. 
grant, dread Genius, that a numerous race 
Of beauteous infants crown their fond embrace ; 


Their beauteous infants round thy feet shall play, 
And keep with custojn'd rites this happy day. 



Mt fair, Cornutus, to the country's flown. 
Oh how insipid is the city grown ! 
No taste have they for elegance refined, 
No tender blossoms, who remain behind : 
Now Cytherea glads the laughing plain. 
And smiles and sports compose her sylvan train. 
Now Cupid joys to learn the ploughman's phrase, 
And clad a peasant, o'er the fallows strays. 
Oh how the weighty prong I'll busy wield ! 
Should the fair wander to the labour'd field ; 
A farmer then, the crooked ploughshare hold. 
Whilst the dull ox prepares the vigorous mould : 
I'd not complain though Phoebus burnt the lands, 
And painful blisters swell'd my tender hands. 

Admetus' herds the fair Apollo drove. 
In spite of med'cine's power, a prey to love ; 
Nor aught avail'd to soothe his amorous care. 
His lyre of silver sound, or waving hair. 
To quench their thirst the kine to streams he led. 
And drove them from their pasture to the shed : 
The milk to curdle, then, the fair he taught. 
And from the chees6 to strain the dulcet draught. 
Oft, oft his virgin sister blush'd for shame, 
As bearing lambkins o'er the field he came ! 
Oft would he sing the list'ning vales among, 
Till lowing oxen broke the plaintive song. 
To Delphi trembling, anxious chiefs repair, 
But got no answer, Phoebus was not there. 
Thy curling locks that charm'd a step-dame'a eye, 
A jealous step-dame now neglected fly ! 
To see thee, Phoebus, thus disfigured stray, 
Who could discover the fair god of day ? 
Constrain'd by Cupid in a cot to pine, 
Where was thy Delos, where thy Pythian shrine ? 


Thrice happy days, when Love almighty sway'd ! 
And openly the gods his will obey'd. 
Now Love's soft power's become a common jest — 
Yet those who feel his influence in their breast, 
The prude's contempt, the wise man's sneer despise, 
Nor would his chains forego to rule the skies. 

Curst farm ! that forced my Nemesis from town, 
Blasts taint thy vines, and rains thy harvests drown. 
Though hymns implore your aid, great god of wine ! 
Assist the lover, and neglect the vine ; 
To shades, unpunish'd, ne'er let beauty stray ; 
Not all your vintage can its absence pay ! 
Rather than harvest should the fair detain, 
May rills and acorns feed th' unactive swain ! 
The swains of old no golden Ceres knew. 
And yet how fervent was their love and true ! 
Their melting vows the Paphian queen approved, 
And every valley witness'd how they loved. 
Then lurk'd no spies to catch the willing maid ; 
Doorless each house ; in vain no shepherd pray'd. 
Once more, ye simple usages, obtain ! 
No — lead me, drive me to the cultur'd plain ! 
Enchain me, whip me, if the fair command ; 
Wliipp'd and enchain'd I'll plough the stubborn land ! 



Chains and a haughty fair I fearless view ! 
Hopes of paternal freedom, all adieu. 
Ah, when will Love compassionate my woes ? 
In one sad tenour my existence flows : 
Whether I kiss or bite the galling chain, 
Alike my pleasure, and alike my pain. 
I burn, I burn ! oh banish my despair ! 
Oh ease my torture, too, too cruel fair : 
Rather than feel such vast, such matchless woe, 
I'd rise some rock o'erspread with endless snow ; 
Or frown a cliff on some disastrous shore. 
Where ships are wreck'd, and tempests ever roar ! 


In pensive gloominess I pass the night, 
Nor feel contentment at the dawn of light. 
What though the god of verse my woes indite, 
What though I soothing elegies can write, 
No strains of elegy her pride control ; 
Gold is the passport to her venal soul. 
I ask not of the Nine the epic lay ; 
Ye Nine ! or aid my passion, or away. 
I ask not to describe in lofty strain 
The sun's eclipses, or the lunar wane ; 
To win admission to the haughty maid, 
Alone I crave your elegiac aid ; 
But if she still contemns the tearful lay, 
Ye and your elegies away, away !. 
In vain I ask, but gold ne'er asks in vain ; 
Then will I desolate the world for gain ! 
For gold, I'll impious plunder every shrine ; 
But chief, O Venus, will I plunder thine ! 
By thee compeU'd I love a venal maid. 
And quit for bloody fields my peaceful shade : 
By thee compell'd I rob the hallow'd shrine. 
Then chiefly Venus will I plunder thine ! 

Perish the man ! whose curst industrious toil 
Or finds the gem, or dyes the woolly spoil ; 
. Hence, hence the sex's avarice arose, 
And art with nature not enough bestows : 
Hence the fierce dog was posted for a guard, 
The fair grew venal, and their gates were barr'd. 
But weighty presents vigilance o'ercome, 
The gate bursts open, and the dog is dumb. 

From venal charms, ye gods ! what mischiefs flow ! 
The joy, how much o'erbalanced by the woe ! 
Hence, hence so few, sweet Love, frequent thy fane. 
Hence impious slander loads thy guiltless reign. 

But ye ! who sell your heavenly charms for hire, 
Your ill-got riches be consumed with fire ! 
May not one lover strive to quench the blaze, 
But smile malicious as o'er all it preys ! 
And when ye die no gentle friend be near. 
To catch your breath or shed a genuine tear ! 


Behind the corpse to march in solemn show, 
Or Syrian odours on the pile bestow. 

Far other fates attend the generous maid ; 
Though age and sickness bid, her beauties fade, 
Still she 's revered ; and when death's easy call 
Has freed her spirit from life's anxious thrall. 
The pitying neighbours all her loss deplore. 
And many a weeping friend besets the door ; 
While some old lover, touch'd with grateful woe. 
Shall yearly garlands on her tomb bestow ; 
And home returning, thus the fair address, 
" Light may the turf thy gentle bosom press.'' 

'Tis truth ; but what has truth with love to do ? 
Imperious Cupid, I submit to you ! 
To sell my father's seat should you command, 
Adieu, my father's gods, my father's land ! 
From madding mares, whate'er of poison flows. 
Or on the forehead of their offspring grows, 
Whate'er Medea brew'd of baleful juice. 
What noxious herbs ^mathian hills produce ; 
Of all, let Nemesis a draught compose. 
Or mingle poisons, feller still than those ; 
If she but smile, the deadly cup I'll drain, 
Forget her avarice, and exult in pain ! Grainger. 


I SEE my slavery, and a mistress near ; 

Oh, freedom of my fathers ! fare thee well ! 
A slavery wretched, and a chain severe. 

Nor Love remits the bonds that o'er me fell. 

How have I. then deserved consuming pain ? 

Or for what sin am I of flames the prey ? 
I burn, ah me ! I burn in every vein ! 

Take, cruel girl, oh take thy torch away ! 

Oh ! but to 'scape this agonizing heat. 

Might I a stone on icy mountains lie ! 
Stand a bleak rook by wreaking billows beat. 

And swept by madding whirlwinds of the sky ! 


Bitter the day, and ah ! the nightly shade ; 

And all my hours in venom'd stream have roU'd ; 
No elegies, no lays of Phosbus, aid ; 

With hollow palm she craves the tinkling gold. 

Away, ye Muses ! if ye serve not Love : 

I, not to sing of battles, woo your strain ; 
How walks the bright-hair'd sun the heavens above, 

Or turns the fuU-orb'd moon her steeds again. 

By verse I seek soft access to my fair ; 

Away, ye Muses ! with the useless lore ; 
Through blood and pillage I must gifts prepare ; 

Or weep, thrown prostrate at her bolted door. 

Suspended spoils I'll snatch from pompous fanes ; 

But Venus first shaU violated be ; 
She prompts the sacrilege, who forged the chains ; 

And gave that nymph insatiable to me. 

Perish the wretch ! who culls the emerald green, 
Or paints the snowy fleece with Tyrian red ! 

Through fihny Coan robes her limbs are seen. 
And India's pearls gleam lucid from her head. 

'Tis pamper'd avarice thus corrupts the fair ; 

The key is turn'd ; the mastiff guards the door : 
The guard's disarm'd, if large the bribe you bear ; 

The dog is hush'd ; the key withstands no more. 

Alas ! that e'er a heavenly form should grace 
The nymph that pants with covetous desires ! 

Hence tears and clamorous brawls, and sore disgrace 
E'en to the name of love, that bliss inspires. 

For thee, that shutt'st the lover from thy door, 
Foil'd by a price, the gilded hire of shame, 

May tempests scatter this thy ill-got ore, 
Strewn on the winds, or melted in the flame. 

May climbing fires thy mansion's roof devour. 

And youths gaze glad, nor throw the quenching wave ; 

May none bemoan thee at thy dying hour. 
None pay the mournful tiibute to thy grave. 

But she, unbribed, unbought, yet melting kind, 
May she a hundred years, unfading," bloom ; 


Be wept, while on the flaming pile reclined, 
And yearly garlands twine her pillar'd tomb. 

Some ancient lover, with his locks of grey, 

Honouring the raptures that his youth had blest, 

Shall hang the wreath, and slow-departing say, 

" Sleep ! — and may earth lie light upon thy breast ! " 

Truth prompts my tongue ; but what can truth avail ? 

The love her laws prescribe must now be mine ; 
My ancestors' loved groves I set to sale — 

My household gods, your title I resign ! 

Nay — Circe's juice, Medea's drugs, each plant 
Of Thessaly, whence dews of poison fall ; — 

Let but my Nemesis' soft smile enchant. 

Then let her mix the cup — I'll drink them all ! Elton. 


■ To hear our solemn vows, O Phoebus, deign ! 
A novel pontiff treads thy sa:cred fane : 
Nor distant hear, dread power ! 'tis Eome's request, 
That with thy golden lyre thou stand'st confest : 
Deign, mighty bard ! to strike the vocal string, 
And praise thy pontiff; we his praises sing: 
Around thy brows triumphant laurels twine. 
Thine altar visit, and thy rites divine : 
New flush thy charms, new curl thy waving hair ; 
O come the god in vestment and in air ! 
When Saturn was dethroned, so crowned with bays. 
So robed, thou sung'st th' almighty victor's praise. 
What fate, from gods and man, has wrapt in night. 
Prophetic flashes on thy mental sight : 
From thee diviners learn their prescient lore, 
On reeking bowels as they thoughtful pore : 
The seer thou teachest the success of things. 
As flies tlie bird, or feeds, or screams, or sings : 
The Sibyl-leaves if Rome ne'er sought in vain. 
Thou gav'st a meaning to the mystic strain : 
Thy sacred influence may this pontiff know, 
And as he reads them with the prophet glow. 

TIBULLUS. 351351 

When great ^neas snatch'd his aged sire, 
And burning lares, from the Grecian fire, 
She, she foretold this empire fix'd by fate, 
And all the triumphs of the Eoman state ; 
Yet when he saw his Ilion wrapp'd in flame, 
He scarce could credit the mysterious dame. 

(Quirinus had not plann'd eternal Rome, 
Nor had his brother met his early doom ; 
Where now Jove's temple swells, low hamlets stood, 
And domes ascend, where heifers cropp'd their food. 
Sprinkled with milk. Pan graced an oak's dun shade. 
And scythe-arm'd Pales watch'd the mossy glade ; 
For help from Pan, to Pan on every bough 
Pipes hung, the grateful shepherd's vocal vow ; 
Of reeds, still lessening, was the gift composed, 
And friendly wax th' unequal junctures closed. 
So where Velabrian streets like cities seem. 
One little wherry plied the lazy stream. 
O'er which the wealthy shepherd's favourite maid 
Was to her swain, on holidays, convey'd ; 
The swain, his truth of passion to declare, 
Or lamb, or cheese, presented to the fair.) 


" Fierce brother of the power of soft desire. 
Who fliest, with Trojan gods, the Grecian fire ! 
Now Jove assigns thee Laurentine abodes. 
Those friendly plains invite thy banish'd gods ! 
There shall a nobler Troy herself applaud. 
Admire her wanderings, and the Grecian fraud ! 
There thou from yonder sacred stream shalt rise 
A god thyself, and mingle with the skies ! 
No more thy Phrygians for their country sigh, 
See conquest o'er your shatter'd navy fly ! 
See the Rutulian tents, a mighty blaze ! 
Thou, Turnus ! soon shalt end thy hateful days ! 
The camp I see, Lavinium greets my view I 
And Alba 1 brave Ascanius ! built by you : 
I see thee. Ilia ! leave the vestal fire, 
And, clasp'd by Mars, in amorous bliss expire ! 


On Tiber's bank thy sacred robes I see, 

And arms abandon'd, eager god ! by thee. 

Your hills crop fast, ye herds ! while fate allows ; 

Eternal Rome shall rise, where now ye browse : 

Rome, that shall stretch her irresistless reign 

Wherever Ceres views her golden grain ; 

Far as the east extends his purple ray, 

And where the west shuts up the gates of day. 

The truth I sing ; so may the laurels prove 

Safe food, and I be screen'd from guilty love." 

Thus sung the sibyl, and address'd her prayer, 
Phcebus ! to thee, and madding, loosed her hair. 
Nor, Phoebus ! give him only these to know, 
A further knowledge on thy priest bestow : 
Let him interpret what thy fav'rite maid, 
What Amalthea, what Mermessia said : 
Let him interpret what Albuna bore 
Through Tiber's waves, unwet, to Tiber's farthest shore. 

When stony tempests fell, when comets glared, 
Intestine wars their oracles declared : 
The sacred groves (our ancestors relate) 
Foretold the changes of the Roman state : 
To charge the clarion sounded in the sky, 
Arms clash'd, blood ran, and warriors seem'd to die : 
With monstrous prodigies the year began ; 
An annual darkness the whole globe o'erran ; 
Apollo, shorn of every beamy ray. 
Oft strove, but strove in vain, to light the day : 
The statues of the gods wept tepid tears ; 
And speaking oxen flU'd mankind with fears ! 

These were of old : no more, Apollo ! frown. 
But in the waves each adverse omen drown. 
Oh ! let thy bays in crackling flames ascend, 
So shall the year with joy begin and end ! 
The bays give prosperous signs ; rejoice, ye swains ! 
Propitious Ceres shall reward your pains. 
With must the jolly rustic purpled o'er, 
Shall squeeze rich clusters, which their tribute pour. 
Till vats are wanting to contain their store. 


Far hence, ye wolves ! the mellow shepherds bring 
Their gifts to Pales, and her praises sing. 
Now, fired with wine, they solemn bonfires raise, 
And leap, untimorous, through the strawy blaze ! 
From every cot unnumber'd children throng. 
Frequent the dance, and louder raise the song : 
And while in mirth the hours they thus employ. 
At home the grandsire tends his little boy ; 
And in each feature pleased himself to trace. 
Foretells his prattler will adorn the race. 

The sylvan youth, their grateful homage paid, 
Where plays some streamlet, seek th' embowering shade ; 
Or stretch'd on soft enamel'd meadows lie. 
Where thickest umbrage cools the summer sky: 
With roses, see ! the sacred cup is crown'd. 
Hark ! music breathes her animating sound : 
The couch of turf, and festal tables stand 
Of turf, erected by each shepherd-hand ; 
And all well-pleased the votive feast prepare, 
Each one his goblet and each one his share. 
Now drunk, they blame their stars and curse the maid, 
But sober, deprecate whate'er they said. 

Perish thy shafts, Apollo ! and thy bow ! 
If Love unarmed in our forests go. 
Yet since he learn'd to wing th' unerring dart, 
Much cause has man to curse his fatal art : 
But most have I ; the sun has wheel'd his round 
Since first I felt the deadly festering wound ; 
Yet, yet I fondly, madly, wish to burn, 
Abjure indiiference, and at comfort spurn ; 
And though from Nemesis my Genius flows. 
Her scarce I sing, so weighty are my woes ! 

O cruel Love ! how joyous should I be, 
Your arrows broke and torch extinct to see ! 
From you, my want of reverence to the skies I 
From you, my woes and imprecations rise ! 
Yet I advise you, too relentless fair ! 
(As heaven protects the bards) a bard to spare ! 

E'en now, the pontiff claims my loftiest lay, 
In triumph soon he'll mount the sacred way.' 

2 A 


Then pictured towns shall show successful war, 
And spoils and chiefs attend his ivory car : 
Myself will bear the laurel in my hand, 
And pleased, amid the pleased spectators stand : 
While war-worn veterans, with laurels crown'd. 
With lo-triumphs shake the streets around. 
His father hails him as he rides along, 
And entertains with pompous shows the throng. 

O Phoebus ! kindly deign to grant my prayer ; 
So may'st thou ever wave thy curled hair ; 
So ever may thy virgin-sister's name 
Preserve the lustre of a spotless fame. Grainger. 


Macer campaigns ; who now will thee obey, 
Love ! if Macer dare forego thy sway ? 
Put on the crest, and grasp the burnish'd shield, 
Pursue the base deserter to the field : 
Or if to winds he gives the loosen'd sail. 
Mount thou the deck, and risk the stormy gale : 
To dare desert thy sweetly-pleasing pains. 
For stormy seas, or sanguinary plains ! 
'Tis, Cupid ! thine, the wanderer to reclaim. 
Regain thy honour and avenge thy name ! 
If such thou spar'st, a soldier I will be. 
The meanest soldier, and abandon thee. 
Adieu, ye trifling loves ! farewell, ye fair ! 
The trumpet charms me, I to camps repair ; 
The martial look, the martial garb assume, 
And see the laurel on my forehead bloom ! 
My vaunts how vain ! debarr'd the cruel maid. 
The warrior softens, and my laurels fade. 
Piqued to the soul, how frequent have I swore, 
Her gate so servile to approach no more ! 
Unconscious what I did, I still return'd. 
Was still denied access, and yet I burn'd ! 

Ye youths, whom Love commands with angry sway, 
Attend his wars, like me, and pleased obey. 


This iron age approves his sway no more.: 

All fly to camps for gold, and gold adore : 

Yet gold clothes kindred states in hostile arms ! 

Hence blood and death, confusion and alarms ! 

Mankind, for lust of gold, at once defy 

The naval combat, and the stormy sky ! 

The soldier hopes, by martial spoils, to gain 

Flocks without number, and a rich domain : 

His hopes obtain'd by every horrid crime, 

He seeks for marble in each foreign clime : 

A thousand yoke sustain the pillar'd freight, 

And Rome, surprised, beholds th' enormous weight. 

Let such with moles the furious deep enclose, 

Where fish may swim unhurt, though winter blows : 

Let flocks and villas call the spoiler lord ! 

And be the spoiler by the fair adored ! 

Let one we know, a whipp'd barbarian slave. 

Live like a king, with kingly pride behave ! 

Be ours the joys of economic ease. 

From bloody fields remote, and stormy seas ! 

In gold, alas ! the venal fair delight ! 
Since beauty sighs for spoil, for spoil I'll fight ! 
In all my plunder Nemesis shall shine. 
Yours be the profit, be the peril mine : 
To deck your heav'nly charms the silk-worm dies. 
Embroidery labours, and the shuttle flies ! 
For you be rifled ocean's pearly store ! 
To you Pactolus send his golden ore ! 
Ye Indians ! blacken'd by the nearer sun, 
Before her steps in splendid liveries run ; 
For you shall wealthy Tyre and Afric vie, 
To yield the purple and the scarlet dye. Grainger. 


Few are the maids that now on merit smile. 
On spoil and war is bent this iron age : 

Yet pain and death attend on war and spoil, 
Unsated vengeance and remorseless rage. 
2 A 2 


To purchase spoil, ev'n love itself is sold, 
Her lover's heart is least Nesera's care. 

And I through virar must seek detested gold, 
Not for myself, but for my venal fair : 

That while she bends beneath the weight of dress. 
The stiifen'd robe may spoil her easy mien : 

And art mistaken make her bea;uty less. 
While still it hides some graces better seen- 

But if such toys can win her lovely smile. 
Hers be the wealth of Tagus' golden sand, 

Hers the bright gems that glow in India's soil. 
Hers the black sons of Afric's sultry land. 

To please her eye. let every loom contend. 

For her be rifled ocean's pearly bed. 
But where, alas ! would idle fancy tend, 

And soothe with dreams a youthful poet's head ? 



Thousands in death would seek an end of woe. 
But hope, deceitful hope ! prevents the blow ! 
Hope plants the forest, and she sows the plain, 
And feeds with future granaries the swain ; 
Hope snares the winged vagrants of the sky, 
Hope cheats in reedy brooks the scaly fry ; 
By hope the fetter'd slave, the drudge of fate. 
Sings, shakes his irons, and forgets his state ; 
Hope promised you, you haughty still deny ; 
Yield to the goddess, my fair ! comply. 
Hope whisper'd me, " Give sorrow to the wind ! 
The haughty fair one shall at last be kind." 
Yet, yet you treat me with the same disdain : 
let not hope's soft whispers prove in vain I ' 

Untimely fate your sister snatch'd away ; 
Spare me, spare me, by her shade I pray ! 
So shall my garlands deck her virgin-tomb ; 
So shall I weep, no hypocrite, her doom ! 
So may her grave with rising flowers be drest, 
And the green turf lie lightly on her breast. 

TiBULLus. 357 7 

Ah me ! will nought avail ? the world I'll fly, 
And, prostrate at her tomb, a suppliant sigh ! 
To her attentive ghost, of you complain ; 
Tell my long sorrowing, tell of your disdain. 
Oft, when alive, in my behalf she spoke : 
Your endless coyness must her shade provoke : 
With ugly dreams she'll haunt your hour of rest. 
And weep before you, an unwelcome guest ! 
Ghastly and pale as when besmear'd with blood, 
Oh fatal fall ! she pass'd the Stygian flood. 

No more, my strains ! your eyes with tears o'erflow, 
This moving object renovates your woe : 
You, you are guiltless ! I your maid accuse ; 
You generous are ! she, she has selfish views. 
Nay, were you guilty, I '11 no more complain ; 
One tear from you o'erpays a life of pain ! 
She, Phryne, promised to promote my vows : 
She took, but never gave my billet-doux. 
You 're gone abroad, she confidently swears. 
Oft when your sweet-toned voice salutes mine ears : 
Or, when you promise to reward my pains, 
That you're afraid, or indisposed, she feigns: 
Then madding jealousy inflames my breast ; 
Then fancy represents a rival blest ; 
I wish thee, Phryne ! then, a thousand woes ; — 
And if the gods with half my wishes close, 
Phryne ! a wretch of wretches thou shalt be, 
And vainly beg of death to set thee free ! Geaingee. 


Many by death their fatal ills would end. 
Credulous hope does still their reign extend. 
And promise wonders from the following day ; 
To-morrow's sun shines always bright and gay. 
Hope feeds the husbandman, and soothes his toil ; 
Hope lends the seed-corn to the furrow'd soil. 
That with a large increase the fertile field 
May to his thirsty wishes golden harvests yield : 
This to the snare the heedless birds betrays, 
This to the hidden hook the finny race. 


The galley-slave, bound fast in solid gyves, 

Prom this a comfort in his woes derives ; 

Who, whilst his legs resound with clinking chains, 

Tugs at the oar and sings amidst his pains. 

Hope sliows me Nemesis all soft and kind. 

But still averse the froward nymph I find. 

Let not the goddess of thy name appear. 

Ah ! cruel maid ! less fierce and less severe, 

Ah ! spare my anguish and thy hate abate, 

I beg this for thy sister's timeless fate. 

Disturb not with thy cruelty her grave, 

But with a speedy smile thy votary save. 

She is my saint, I to her tomb will bear 

My gifts and chaplets wet with many a tear ; 

Yes, to her tomb I'll fly, her suppliant prove. 

And with her silent urn deplore my love : 

She will not leave her client to his pain, 

Nor let his tears for thee be ever vain. 

I charge thee therefore in her name to prove 

More swiftly kind to my complaining love. 

Lest her neglected manes in the night 

Thy conscious slumbers with sad' dreams affright ; 

And stand before thee all besmear'd with blood. 

As she fell downward to the Stygian flood. 

But hold — that dismal story I'll forbear. 

Lest I renew my fair one's anxious care ; 

I am not so much worth to call from her one tear, 

Nor is it fit that tears should e'er disguise , 

The lustre of those dear loquacious eyes. 

The bawd's my foe, and makes my vows all vain ; 

The tender maid would pity else my pain : 

Phryne the bawd against me bars the door, 

A bawd is still obdurate to the poor. 

Within her secret bosom she conveys 

The amorous billets for the man that pays. 

Oft when the pleasing music of her voice 

Alarms my heart with the approaching joys, 

Though to the door the well-known accents come. 

This cursed bawd will swear she's not at home. 

And often when my soul is all on fire, 

Summon'd by love, and swelling with desire, 


E'en in the harbour all my joys are split, 

The eager lover Phryne won't admit ; 

But with dissembled terror in her air, 

Pretends that sudden pangs have seized my fair ; 

Or that some threaten'd danger must that night 

Prorogue the promised moments of delight. 

Oh ! then my wounded soul in cares expires. 

And feels new anguish from my jealous fires : 

My pregnant fancy soon begets alarms, 

And paints some happy lover in her arms ; 

Paints aU the tumults of the ravish'd pair. 

And all the several ways he grasps the fair. 

Then fall my curses on thy destin'd head, 

Detested Phryne ! better thou wert dead, 

Than that the gods but one of them should hear ; 

For all the racks that the most guilty fear. 

Would be thy hated lot, thy cursed share. Otwat. 



Tht calends, Mars ! are come, from whence of old 
The year's beginning our forefathers told : 
Now various gifts through every house impart 
The pleasing tokens of the friendly heart. 
To my Neaera, tuneful virgins ! say, 
What shall I give, what honour shall I pay ? 
Dear, e'en if fickle ; dearer, if my friend ! 
To the loved fair what present shall I send ? 


Gold wins the venal, verse the lovely maid : 
In your smooth numbers be her charms display'd, 
On polish'd ivory let the sheets be roU'd, 
Tour name in signature, the edges gold. 


No pumice spare to smooth each parchment scroll. 
In a gay wrapper then secure the whole. 
Thus to adorn your poems be your care ; 
And, thus adorn'd, transmit them to the fair. 


Fair maids of Pindus ! I your counsel praise: 
As you advise ine, I'll adorn mj lays : 
But by your sti^eams, and by your shades, I pray. 
Yourselves the volume to the fair convey. 
O let it lowly at her feet be laid, 
Ere the gilt wrapper or the edges fade ; 
Then let her tell me, if her flames decline, 
If quite extinguish'd, or if still she's mine. 
But first your graceful salutations paid. 
In terms subijiissive thus address the maid : 
" Chaste fair ! the bard, who dotes upon j^our charms. 
And once could clasp them in his nuptial arms. 
This volume sends ; and humbly hopes that you 
With kind indulgence will the present view. 
You, you ! he prizes more, he vows, than life ; 
Still a loved sister, or again his wife. 
But oh ! may Hymen bless his virtuous fire, 
And once more grant you to his fond desire I 
Fix'd in this hope, he'll reach the dreary shore. 
Where sense shall fail and memory be no more." 


ELEGY 11, 

Hard was the first who ventured to divide 
The youthful bridegroom and the tender bride : • 

' Hard was the first, &c.] This sentiment is finely expressed by Ham- 
mond, El. ix. 

He wlio could first two gentle hearts unbind, 
And rob a lover of his Aveeping fair. 

Hard was the man ; but harder, in my mind, 
The lover still who died not of despair. 

TIBULLtlS. 36 

More hard the bridegroom who can bear the day 
When force has torn his tender bride away. 
Here too my patience, here my manhood fails ; 
The brave grow dastards, when fierce grief assails ; 
Die, die I must ! the truth I freely own ; 
My life too burthensome a load is grown. 
Then, when I flit a thin an empty shade, 
When on the mournful pile my corse is laid, 
With melting grief, with tresses loose and torn, 
Wilt thou, Nesera ! for thy husband mourn ? 
A parent's anguish will thy mother show. 
For the lost youth, who lived, who died for you ? 

But see the flames o'er all my body stray ! 
And now my shade ye call, and now ye pray. 
In black array'd ; the flame forgets to soar ; 
And now pure water on your hands ye pour ; 
My loved remains next, gather'd in a heap. 
With wine ye sprinkle, and in milk ye steep. 
The moisture dried, within the urn ye lay 
My bones, and to the monument convey. 
Panchaian odours thither ye will bring. 
And all the produce of an Eastern spring : 
But what than Eastern springs I hold more dear, 
Oh wet my ashes with a genuine tear ! 


With mean disguise let others nature hide, 
And mimic virtue with the paint of art ; 

I scorn the cheat of reason's foolish pride. 
And boast the graceful -weakness of my heart. 

Sad is my day, and sad my lingering night, 
When, wrapt in silent grief, I weep alone ; 

Delia is lost ! and all my past delight 
Is now the source of unavailing moan. 

What follows is an improvement on TibuUus : 

Where is the wit, that heighten'd beauty's charms ? 
Where is the face, that fed my longing eyes ? 


Thus, by you both lamented, let me die, 
Be thus perform'd my mournful obsequy ! 
Then shall these lines, by some throng'd way, relate 
The dear occasion of my dismal fate : 
" Here lies poor Lygdamus ; a lovely wife. 
Torn from his arms, cut short his thread of life." 



An iron soul had he who first could part 

The tender lover from the tender fair ; 
But sure that youth had still a harder heart, 

Who bore the loss, and died not of despair. 

Not for endurance is my nature known ; 

Grief breaks the heart, the brave are vanquish'd too : 
I blush to speak my shame, I blush to own, 

Life, worn with sufferings, paUs upon my view. 

Then, when I change to flitting shade and air, 
And dusky ashes my white bones bespread, 

Before my pile, with long dishevell'd hair. 
Bathed in her tears, let chaste Nesera tread. 

But let her with her sorrowing mother come, 
And one a son, and one a husband weep ; 

Call my departed soul, and bless my tomb,. 
And their pure hands in living waters steep. 

Ungirded then collect whate'er was mine, 
My ivory bones in sable vestment swathe ; 

First sprinkle with the mellow juice of wine. 
Anon with snowy milk the relics bathe. 

Absorb the moisture soft with linen veils, 
And dry, repose them in a marble tomb ; 

With gums, whose incense dew'd Panchaia's gales, 
Arabia's balm, and Syria's rich perfume. 

With odours let remembrance mingle tears ; 

So, turn'd to dust, would I in peace be laid ; 
While the sad cause of death inscribed appears, 

Thus, in graved characters of verse, display'd : 


" The tomb of Lygdamus you here survey ; 

With love and anguish worn he pining sigh'd ; 
He saw his spouse Nessra torn away, 

And, yielding to the sorrow, sank and died." Elton. 


Wht did I supplicate the powers divine ? 

Why votive incense burn at every shrine ? 

Not that I marble palaces might own, 

To draw spectators, and to make me known ; 

Not that my teams might plough new-purchas'd plains, 

And bounteous autumn glad my countless swains : 

I begg'd with you my youthful days to share, 

1 begg'd in age to clasp the lovely fair ; 

And when my stated race of life was o'er, 

I begg'd to pass alone the Stygian shore. 

Can treasured gold the tortured breast compose ? 
Or plains, wide cultured, soothe the lover's woes ? 
Can marble-pillar'd domes, the pride of art, 
Secure from sorrow the possessor's heart ? 
Not circling woods, resembling sacred groves. 
Not Parian pavements, nor gay-gilt alcoves. 
Not all the gems that load an Eastern shore, 
Not whate'er else the greedy great adore, 
Possess'd, can shield the owner's breast from woe, 
Since fickle fortune governs all below : 
Such toys, in little minds, may envy raise ; * 

Still little minds improper objects praise. 
Poor let me be, for poverty can please 
With you ; without you, crowns could give no ease. 

Shine forth, bright morn ! and every bliss impart. 
Restore Nesera to my doting heart I 
For if her glad return the gods deny. 
If I solicit still in vain the sky. 
Nor power, nor all the wealth this globe contains. 
Can ever mitigate my heart-felt pains ; 
Let others these enjoy ; be peace my lot, 
Be mine Neaera, mine a humble cot I 


Saturnia, grant thy suppliant's timid prayer ! 
And aid me, Venus ! from thy pearly chair ! 

Yet, if the Sisters, who o'er fate preside. 
My vows contemning, still detain my bride. 
Cease, breast, to heave ! cease, anxious blood, to flow ! 
Come, death ! transport me to thy realms below. 



Why should my vows, Neaera ! fill the sky, 

And the sweet incense blend with many a prayer ? 

Not forth to issue on the gazing eye 
From marble vestibule of mansion fair. 

Not that unnumber'd steers may turn my field. 
And the kind earth its copious harvests lend : 

But that with thee the joys of life may yield 
Their full satiety, till life has end. 

And, when my days have measured out their light, 
And, naked, I must Lethe's bark survey ; 

I on thy breast may close my fading sight, 
And feel my dying age fall soft away. 

For what avails the pile of massive gold ? 

What the rich glebe by thousand oxen plough'd ? 
Roofs, that the Phrygian pillars vast uphold, 

Tsenarian shafts, Carystian columns proud ? 

Mansions, whose groves might seem some temple's wood ; 

The gilded cornice, or the marble floor ? 
Pearls glean'd from sands of Persia's ruddy flood, 

Sidon's red fleece, and all the crowd adore ? 

For envy clings to these : the crowd still gaze, 

Charm'd with false shows, and love with little skill : 

Not wealth the cares of human souls allays. 
Since fortune shifts their happiness at will. 

With thee, O sweet Nesera ! want were bliss ; 

Without thee I the gifts of kings disdain : 
Oh clear the light ! blest day, that brings me this ; 

Thrice blest, that yields thee to my arms again ! 


If to my vows for this tliy sweet return, 
Love's god, kind, listen, nor avert his ear ; 

Then Lydia's river, rolling gold, I'll spurn: 

Kingdoms and wealth of worlds shall poor appear. 

Seek these who may : a frugal fare be mine : 
With my dear consort let me safely dwell : 

Come, Juno ! to my timid prayers incline ! 
Come, Venus ! wafted on thy scallop'd shell ! 

But, if the Sister Fates refuse my boon. 

Who draw the future day with swift-spun thi'ead, 

Hell to its gulfy rivers call me soon, 

To sluggish lurid lakes, where haunt the dead. Elton. 


Last night's ill-boding dreams, ye gods, avert ! 
Nor plague, with portents, a poor lover's heart ! 
But why ? From prejudice our terrors rise ; 
Vain visions have no commerce with the skies : 
Th' event of things the gods alone foresee, 
And Tuscan priests foretell what they decree. 
Dreams flit at midnight round the lover's head. 
And timorous man alarm with idle dread : 
And hence oblations to divert the woe. 
Weak, superstitious minds on heaven bestow. 
But since whate'er the gods foretell is true. 
And man's oft warn'd, mysterious dreams ! by you ; 
Dread Juno ! make my nightly visions vain, 
Vain make my boding fears, and calm my pain ! 
The blessed gods, you know, I ne'er reviled, 
And nought iniquous e'er my heart defiled. 

Now night had laved her coursers in the main, 
And left to dewy dawn a doubtful reign ; 
Bland sleep, that from the couch of sorrow flies, 
(The wretch's solace,) had not closed my eyes ; 
At last, when morn unbarr'd the gates of light, 
A downy slumber shut my labouring sight : 
A youth appear'd, with virgin laurel crown'd. 
He moved majestic, and I heard the sound. 


Such charms, such manly charms, were never seen, 

As fired his eyes, and harmonized his mien ; 

His hair, in ringlets of an auburn hue, 

Shed Syrian sweets, and o'er his shoulders flew ; 

As white as thine, fair Luna ! was his skin, 

So vein'd with azure, and as smoothly thin ; 

So soft a blush vermilion'd o'er his face, 

As when a maid first melts in man's embrace ; 

Or when the fair with curious art unite 

The purple amaranth and lily white. 

A bloom like his, when tinged by autumn's pride. 

Reddens the apple on the sunny side ; 

A Tyrian tunic to his ancles flow'd, [show'd. 

Which through its sirfled plaits his godlike beauties 

A lyre, the present mulciber, bestow'd. 

On his left arm with easy grandeur glow'd ; 

The peerless work of virgin gold was made 

With ivory, gems, and tortoise interlaid ; 

O'er all the vocal strings his fingers stray, 

The vocal strings his fingers glad obey. 

And, harmonized, a sprightly prelude play : 

But when he join'd the music of his tongue, 

These soft, sad elegiac lays he sung : 

" All hail, thou care of heaven ! (a virtuous bard, 
The god of wine, the Muses, I regard ; ) 
But neither Bacchus nor the Thespian Nine, 
The sacred will of destiny divine : 
The secret book of destiny to see. 
Heaven's awful sire has given alone to me ; 
And I, unerring god, to you explain 
(Attend and credit) what the Fates ordain. 

" She who is still your ever-constant care. 
Dearer to you than sons to mothers are. 
Whose beauties bloom in every soften'd line. 
Her sex's envy, and the love of thine : 
Not with more warmth is female fondness moved. 
Not with more warmth are tenderest brides beloved. 
For whom you hourly importune the sky, 
For whom you wish to live, nor feax to die. 


Whose form, when night has wrapt in black the pole, 
Cheats in soft vision your enamour'd soul ; 
Neaera ! whose bright charms your verse displays, 
Seeks a new lover, and inconstant strays ! 
For thee no more with mutual warmth she burns. 
But thy chaste house and chaste embrace she spurns. 

" Oh cruel, perjured, false, intriguing sex ! 
Oh born with woes poor wretched man to vex ! 
Whoe'er has learn'd her lover to betray. 
Her beauty perish, and her name decay ! 

" Yet, as the sex will change, avoid despair ; 
A patient homage may subdue the fair. 
Fierce Love taught man to suffer, laugh at pain ; 
Fierce Love taught man, with joy, to drag the chain ; 
Fierce Love, nor vainly fabulous the tale. 
Forced me, yes, forced me, to the lonely dale : 
There I Admetus' snowy heifers drove. 
Nor tuned my lyre, nor sung, absorb'd in love. 
The favourite son of heaven's almighty sire, 
Preferr'd a straw-pipe to his golden lyre. 

" Though false the fair, though Love is wild, obey, 
Or, youth, you know not Love's tyrannic sway. 
In plaintive strains address the haughty fair ; 
The haughty soften at the voice of prayer. 
If ever true my Delphian answers prove, 
Bear this my message to the maid you love. 

" Pride of your sex, and passion of the age ! 
No more let other men your love engage ; 
A bard on you the Delian god bestows. 
This match alone can warrant your repose." 

He sung. When Morpheus from jpy pillow flew, 
And plunged me in substantial griefs anew. 

Ah ! who could think that thou hadst broke thy vows. 
That thou, Nesera ! sought'st another spouse ? 
Such horrid crimes as all mankind detest, 
Could they, how could they, harbour in thy breast ? 


The ruthless deep, I know, was not thy sire ; 
Nor fierce Chimsera, belching floods of fire ; 
Nor didst thou from the triple monster spring. 
Round whom a coil of kindred serpents cling ; 
Thou art not of the Libyan lion's seed, 
Of barking Scylla's, nor Charybdis' breed ; 
Nor Afric's sands, nor Scythia gave thee bii'th ; 
But a compassionate, benignant earth. 
No ! thou, my fair ! deriv'st thy noble race 
From parents deck'd with every human grace. 

Ye gods ! avert the woes that haunt my mind, 
And give the cruel phantoms to the wind. Grainger. 


Now heaven forefend ! — nor bring those dreams to light 

That haunted the pale close of yesternight ! 

Away ! far hence, ye false, vain shadows, fly ! 

Hope not to win my fond credulity : 

From gods alone unerring warnings come. 

When seers in entrails read the future doom. 

Dreams, like the cheating shades of night, we find. 

Play with false fears upon the timid mind. 

Such midnight omens superstition sees. 

Which crackling salt and holy meal appease. 

But whether truth to others shadow'd seem 

In the seer's warning, or the lying dream ; 

At least may Luna chase these fears in air, 

Which my poor heart has ill deserved to bear : 

If pure my conscience from crime's deepening dye, 

Nor e'er my tongue blasphemed the powers on high. 

Night now had measured heaven's cserulean steep 
With sable steeds ; her laved wheels touch'd the deep : 
But sleep, that soothes the wretched, soothed not me ; 
Still from an anxious chamber prompt to flee : 
Till, when the sun peep'd faint from eastern skies. 
Late slumber settled on my languid eyes. 
When lo ! a youth was seen my floor to tread. 
Chaste laurels nodding round his wreathed head. 


No form so fair adorn'd the age of gold : 

No form So fair could spring from human mould : 

Loose o'er his tapering neck the ringlets flew, 

That breathing myrtle dropp'd with Tyrian dew : 

White as the moon did his complexion show, 

And tinting crimson flush'd his skin of snow. 

As virgin cheeks with tender blushes dyed, 

When to the youth consents the yielded bride : 

As girls with purple am'ranths lilies thread ; 

As apples pale catch autumn's streaky red. 

A sweeping robe around his ankles trail'd ; 

His dazzling limbs the gorgeous vesture veil'd : 

On his left side a harp suspended hung. 

Of precious shell, with gold resplendent strung : 

Soft, at his first approach, the chord he smote 

With ivory quill, with sweet-breathed vocal note : 

His fingers and his voice preluded clear, 

Then sweet, but sad, his accents thrill'd my ear. 

" Hail, care of heaven ! the bard of spotless love 

Apollo, Bacchus, and the Nine approve : 

But ah ! not Bacchus, not the Nine, have power 

To read the shadows of the future hour : 

To me the father gave the laws of doom, 

The mystic volume of events to come. 

What I, unerring prophet, tell, receive : 

The god's true lips shall speak ; do thou believe. 

She whom thou dear hast held, and loved to prize, 

Dear as a daughter in her mother's eyes ; 

Dear as the virgin when, with blushing charms, 

She sinks within her panting bridegroom's arms ; 

For whom thy voice has wearied heaven with prayer ; 

For whom thy feverish days are cross'd with care ; 

And who, when sleep its umber'd mantle throws. 

With nightly phantoms haunts thy vain repose : 

She — 'fair Nesera — in thy verse divine. 

Inconstant sighs for other arms than thine ; 

Far other wishes heave her sinful breast. 

Nor in her chaste home is Nesera blest. 

Ah, cruel sex ! ah woman ! faithless name I 

Be every man-deceiver's portion, shame ! 

2 B 

370 TIBDLLtrS. 

Yet may she bend ; for mutable the race : 

Do thou, still patient, stretch thy true embrace. 

Fell Love has taught the hardest toils to dare ; 

Fell Love has taught e'en cruel stripes to bear : 

I, once Admetus' snowy heifers fed ; 

Not vain the tale in sportful fictions read : 

No more my hand the harp sonorous play'd ; 

No more my voice responsive cadence made ; 

But on a flimsy oat I whisper'd love : 

E'en I, Latona's son, the son of Jove. 

Ah ! youth ! thou know'st not love ! unless thou bear 

A thorny pillow, an unfeeling fair. 

Yet doubt not, nor despair ; but soft complain : 

Hard hearts at soft complaint have turn'd again. 

If true my temple's oracles, now go : 

This in my name let false Nessra know : 

' PhtBbus himself insures this marriage tie : 

Here blest, no longer for another sigh.'" 

He said : the idle slumber took its flight : 
Ah ! from such ills I turn my loathing sight : 
I dare not think thy vows are vow'd from me ; 
That sins can harbour'd in thy bosom be : 
For not from ocean's depths thy being came, 
Nor fierce Chimsera breathed thee forth in flame : 
Not hell's grim dog with viperous brood o'erhung, 
Monster of triple head and triple tongue ; 
Not Scylte,, twi-form'd maid, thy nature gave, 
Around whose waist the dogs engendering rave ; 
No lioness produced thee in the wild, 
Nor Syrt, nor Scythia, rear'd thee as its child. 
But thine a.polish'd and humane abode, 
Where never cruelty its features show'd : 
In thy mild mother all her sex we view, 
Thine, amiablest of men, a father too. 
Now, pray the gods ! these dreams befall me fair ! 
Light may they vanish on the tepid air ! Elton. 


While you at Tuscan baths for pleasure stay, 
(Too hot when Sfrius darts his sultry ray, 


Though now that purple spring adorns the trees, 

Not Baia's more medicinal than these,) 

Me harder fates attend, my youth decays ; 

Yet spare, Persephone ! my blameless days : 

With secret wickedness unstung my soul ; 

I never mix'd, nor gave the baneful bowl ; 

I ne'er the holy mysteries proclaim'd ; 

I fired no temple, and no god defamed ; 

Age has not snow'd my jetty locks with white, 

Nor bent my body, nor decay'd my sight. 

(When both the consuls fell, ah fatal morn ! 

Fatal to Eoman freedom ! I was born.) 

Apples unripe, what foUy 'tis to pull, 

Or crush the cluster ere the grapes are full ! 

Ye gloomy gods ! whom Acheron obeys, 
Dispel my sickness, and prolong my days ! 
Ere to the shades my dreary steps I take, 
Or ferry o'er th' irremeable lake. 
Let me (with age when wrinkled all my face) 
Tell ancient stories to my listening race. 

Thrice five long days and nights consumed with fire, 
(O soothe its rage !) I gradually expire ; 
While you the Naiad of your fountain praise. 
Or lave, or spend in gentle sport your days : 
Yet, O my friends ! whate'er the Fates decree, 
Joy guide your steps, and still remember me ! 

Meantime, to deprecate the fierce disease, 
And hasten glad returns of vigorous ease. 
Milk, mix'd with wine, O promise to bestow, 
And sable victims, on the gods below. 




Come, Bacchus, come ! so may the mystic vine 
And verdant ivy round thy temples twine I 
My pains, the anguish I endure, remove ; 
Oft hast thou vanquish'd the fierce pangs of love. 
' Grainger has taken needless liberties -with this Elegy, and apologizes for 
them as follows : " This poem, which is one continued struggle between 

2 B 2 


Haste, boy, with old Falernian crown the bowl, 
In the gay cordial let me drench my soul. 
Hence, gloomy care ! I give you to the wind ; 
The god of fancy frolics in my mind ! 
My dear companions ! favour my design. 
Let's drown our senses all in rosy wine ! 


Those may the fair with practised guile abuse. 
Who, sourly wise, the gay dispute refuse : 
The jolly god can cheerfulness impart. 
Enlarge the soul, and pour out all the heart. 


But Love the monsters of the wood can tame, 
The wildest tigers own the powerful flame : 
He bends the stubborn to his awful sway, 
And melts insensibility away : 
So wide the reign of Love ! 


Wine, wine, dear boy ! 
Can any here in empty goblets joy ? 
No, no ! the god can never disapprove, 
That those who praise him should a bumper love. 
What terrors arm his brow ? the goblet drain : 
To be too sober is to be profane ! 
Her son, who mock'd his rites, Agave tore, 
And furious scatter'd round the yelling shore ! 
Such fears be far from us, dread god of wine ! 
Thy rites we honour, we are wholly thine ! 
But let the sober wretch thy vengeance prove : 

the powers of Love and Wine, but in which the latter triumphs over the for- 
mer, the translator has thrown into a dialogue between the Lover and one 
of his boon Companions. This gives it a more spirited air, but does not 
entirely remove all ita obscurities ; and hence the translator has been led 
to believe that it is Imperfect ; unless, with some judicious critics, it is 
supposed that, as the author was agitated with a diversity of passions at 
the time of his composing it, so the hyperbaton and disorderly connexion 
was the result of judicious choice, and not the fault of imperfection. 



Or her, whom all my sufferings cannot move ! 
— What pray'd I rashly for ? my madding prayer, 
Ye winds ! disperse, unratified, in air : 
For though, my love ! I'm blotted from your soul, 
Serenely rise your days, serenely roll ! 


The love-sick struggle past, again be gay : 
Come, crown'd with roses, let's drink down the day ! 


Ah me ! loud-laughing mirth how hard to feign ! 
When doom'd a victim to Love's dreadful pain : 
How forced the drunken catch, the smiling jest, 
When black solicitude annoys the breast ! 


Complaints, away ! the blithesome god of wine 
Abhors to hear his genuine votaries whine. 

» » * * * 


You, Ariadne ! on a coast unknown, 
The perjur'd Theseus wept, and wept alone ; 
But learn'd Catullus in immortal strains 
Has sung his baseness, and has wept your pains. 


Thrice happy they who hear experience call. 
And shun the precipice where others fall. 
When the fair clasps you to her breast, beware. 
Nor trust her by her eyes although she swear ; 
Not though, to drive suspicion from your breast, 
Or love's soft queen, or Juno she attest : 
No truth the women know ; their looks are lies. 


Yet Jove connives at amorous perjuries. 
Hence, serious thoughts ! then why do I complain ? 
The fair are licensed by the gods to feign. 


Yet would the guardian powers of gentle love, 

This once indulgent to my wishes prove, 

Each day we then should laugh, and talk, and toy, 

And pass each night in hymeneal joy. 

O let my passion fix thy faithless heart ! 

For still I love thee, faithless as thou art ! 

Bacchus the Naiad loves ; then haste, my boy ! 

My wine to temper cooler streams employ. 

What though the smiling board Nesera flies, 

And in a rival's arms perfidious lies, 

The live-long night, all sleepless, must I whine ? 



Quick, servants ! bring us stronger wine. 


Now Syi'ian odours scent the festal room. 
Let rosy garlands on our foreheads bloom. Gkainger. 


Ah me ! how hard, the mask of joy to wear 

And feign the jest, with thoughts of brooding care ! 

Ill suits the smile with looks that joy belie. 

Or wine's gay wit with mental misery. 

Fond wretch ! what boots complaint ? vile cares, away ! 

Know, father Bacchus hates the mournful lay. 

So thou, O Cretan maid ! didst once deplore 

A perjured tongue, left lonely on the shore. 

As skill'd Catullus tells, who paints in song . 

The ingrate Theseus, Ariadne's wrong. 

Take warning, youths ! oh blest ! whoe'er shall know 

The art to profit by another's woe ! 

Let not the hanging nymph's embrace deceive. 

Nor protestations of base tongues believe : 

Not though the traitress by her eyes may swear ; 

Her Juno, Venus ; for no faith is there. 

Jove laughs at lovers' perjuries ; the gales 

Of heaven disperse these light protesting tales. 

Why, then, so oft the treacherous nymph arraign ? 

Begone sad words ! begone the pensive strain ! 


How would I rest whole nights within thy bower ! 
And share whole days thy every waking hour ! 
Faithless ! with undeserved disdain severe ! 
Faithless ! yet faithless as thou art, most dear ! 
Bacchus the Naiad loves : quick — loitering slave ! 
Temper the mellow wine with Martian wave : 
No — if the giddy nymph my board has fled, 
And. fickle sought some unknown lover's bed; 
I will not through the night in sighings pine : 
Boy ! mix it pure : come — dash it strong with wine : 
Nay — long ago the Syrian nard should breathe 
Eound my moist brow, and flowers my hair inwreath. 




Messala, thee I sing, although thy name, 

Thy well-known merit, and thy spreading fame 

Startle me, lest I feebly should repeat 

A verse inferior to desert so great ; 

But though unequal to the theme I raise, 

Yet I'll attempt at least to sing thy praise : 

I, the designer of an humble verse. 

Since none with justice can thy praise rehearse, 

Unless he had thy language to express. 

And clcthe thy mighty deeds with manly dress ; 

A task superior to my trifling skill, 

Yet take (if the performance fails) the will ; 

Let that suffice, nor thou the gift refuse. 

The humble tribute of an humble Muse. 

Thus Phoebus kind received with smiling cheer 
The little gift the Cretan could prefer. 
Thus Icarus, by his celestial guest, 
Bacclius, was far preferr'd before the rest, 
As those bright signals in the Iieavens declare, 
Fair Virgo, and the scorching Syrian star : 


Alcides, destined for unbounded power, 

Oft visited the poor Molorchus' bower. 

The gods above do not mean off'rings scorn, 

Nor always claim the ox with gilded horn ; 

So may this humble verse, so small it be, 

Come an accepted off 'ring due to thee ; 

That I encouraged may, in time, repeat 

A verse more worthy, and thy praise more great. 

Others, inspired with a sublimer flame. 
May sing the vast creation's wondro"us frame ; 
And how the earth is press'd with air around. 
And how the circling sea confines the ground ; 
And how the fluid body of the air 
Is moved with constant motion here and there ; 
And lightly wafting upwards does aspire 
To join the high and pure ethereal fire ; 
And lastly, how different those bodies lie 
Enclosed with the vast concave of the sky. 

But if my verse can well express thy praise. 
Or (what's a desperate thought) can higher raise ; 
Or if it cannot to thy name be just. 
But sinks below thy worth, as sure it must ; 
Whatever thoughts are spread in every line, 
Whate'er I sing, the votive verse be thine. 

You, though your race illustriously are known, 
Unsatisfied with honours handed down ; 
Still follow glory with a steady pace, 
And emulate the greatness of your race ; 
Thus all those merits which your fathers kntew, 
Your sons may see again revived in you. 

Nor shall an empty title hold thy fame, 
But endless volumes shall record your name : 
Crowds shall contend to have thy worth declared. 
The orator, historian, and the bard : 
But may the task at length on me be laid. 
That so my name may with thy deeds be read. 

For who can greater cause for praises yield 
Than you ? Or in the forum or the field, 


With equal worth you claim a just renown, 
Braced in the helmet, or the peaceful gown. 
The spreading laurels lie in equal scales. 
And neither pendent hemisphere prevails. 

You, if the giddy vulgar rise to rage. 
Appease their fury and their heat assuage. 
Nor Pylus, nor could Ithaca contain 
So great a worthy in their boasted train : 
Nor Nestor, noted for his vast renown, 
Nor great Ulysses of a little town ; 
Though one had seen three hundred suns go round 
Their annual courses, and revive the ground ; 
The other all the cities did explore, 
Where'er the farthest sea includes the shore. 

He overcame the Thracians, fierce in arms, 
Nor was subdued by Lotophagian charms. 
He check'd the one-eyed monster's fell design, 
Making him drunk with Maronean wine, 
-ffiolian gales he carried o'er the sea. 
And to the Lestrygonians took his way, 
Hough race ! o'er whom Antiphates was king. 
Where cool Artacia spreads her limpid spring. 
Circe's bewitching arts by him were known ; 
Circe ! the powerful daughter of the Sun, 
Who by her skill in magic simples knew 
To change old Nature's forms to bodies new : 
Then to Cimmerian caves he took his way. 
Wherever Phoebus roused the lightsome day. 
Whether above the earth, or underneath the sea. 
He view'd the dark Plutonian coasts below, 
There saw the demi-gods and heroes go. 
Mingled among the spectres to and fro. 
Secure his easy vessel sail'd along, 
Unstopp'd by the alluring Syren's song : 
Him steering 'twixt the jaws of death his course. 
Nor Scylla could affright with rapid source ; 
Though dreadful and tremendously she raves. 
Girt round with barking dogs beneath the waves : 
Nor could Charybdis, with tempestuous sea, 
Destroy his vessel in her usual way : 


Nor when to heaven uprose the waves profound, 
Nor when dividing they disclosed the ground : 
Nor shall I pass great Jove's severe award, 
Declared for Phosbus' violated herd : 
Nor how at length he fair Calypso found, 
Her generous love and hospitable ground : 
Nor how PhEeacia was the happy isle 
That closed his journey and relieved his toiL 

Now whether these were in the world we know, 
Or fables feign them in some world below ; 
Let him his labour boast and hardy deed, 
While you in moving eloquence exceed. 

In you the ready skill of war is found, 
How to intrench the camp and raise the ground ; 
And how against the adverse host oppose. 
Defensive palisadoes placed in rows. 
And where to lead the ditch and ground enclose ; 
And ere you pitch the camp, to choose that ground 
Which does with pure refreshing springs abound. 
Swift through your troops communications go, 
Wliich are cut off before they reach the foe. 
You various sports and active games devise. 
To keep the troops in manly exercise. 

What chief like you can toss the pond'rous spear ? 
Or send the flying arrow through the air ? 
Or throw the jav'lin with an arm so strong. 
To cut the air and drive the clouds along ? 
Or who direct the fiery courser's will. 
Or moderate the rein with greater skill ? 
Or ride th' extended race with swifter force, 
Or wheel the circling ring and round repeated course ? 
Or who more ready heaves the shield in fight, 
To guard the left side, or secure the right ? 
To ward with sure defence, or here, or there. 
And take the fury of th' invading spear? 

In time, when raging Mars with fury glows, 
When ensigns ensigns face, and spears do spears oppose, 
Then you in meet array the squadrons place. 
And fix" the battle with a threat'ning face, 


Whether you join them in a solid square, 
That equal sides compact the foes may dare ; 
Or into other forms the battle fling, 
And lead the soldiers to a spreading wing ; 
That either may a mutual aid dispense, 
And guard each other with a joint defence. 

But let me not uncertain trophies raise, 
For wars I sing, and wars confirm thy praise : 
Witness the lUyrians taught the Eoman sway, 
The base Pannonian rebels to obey : 
And Arupinum taken, which did yield 
One born to arms, and constant in the field : 
Poor and unknown, him whosoe'er had seen, 
Uhbroke with age, and e'en in winter green. 
With less surprise would hear the story told 
Of rev'rend Nestor's fame, three cent'ries old : 
For though since first he had received his birth, 
A hundred annual suns had warm'd the earth ; 
He springing in the saddle press'd the horse. 
And fix'd, he sat him in the swiftest course : 
An able vet'ran for the dusty plains. 
And a just moderator of the reins. 
Subdued by thee, when all their power was vain, 
They bent their necks beneath the Roman chain. 

But these shall not suffice to speak thy praise, 
Actions to come shall greater honours raise ; 
For I have more surprising things in view, 
From omens sure as e'er Melampus knew. 
For on that day when you, sublimely great. 
Was clothed in purple and enrobed in state, 
The sun above the ocean raised his head. 
And o'er the earth uncommon lustre spread : 
The seas with swelling billows rise no more. 
But roU'd their silent waters to the shore ; 
The struggling winds their noisy discord cease. 
And every whisp'ring gale lay hush'd in peace. 
No bird did through the air his journey steer. 
Or shook his whistling pinions in the air : 
No savage beasts were grazing in the shade ; 
But all st6od silent at the vows you made. 


Jove, in his chariot wafted through the air, 
Left his Olympus to receive thy prayer ; 
And seem'd intent to bend a list'ning ear. 
Th' assenting power to every word you said 
Gave the majestic nod, and waved his head: 
Sudden the shining altars seem'd more bright, 
And shooting flames diffused a greater light. 

The gods approve ! begin the mighty deed, 
For thee uncommon triumphs are decreed. 
Not neighbouring Gallia shall confine thy course, 
Nor vast Hispania with its savage force ; 
Nor wealthy confines which the Tyrians sow, 
Nor where the Nile and great Cho^pes flow ; 
Nor where swift Gyndes does the land divide. 
The lasting proof of Cyrus' foolish pride ; 
Nor where the waters through their sulph'rous veins 
Diffuse the heat to Arect^an plains ; 
Nor that vast land where Thomyris bore sway. 
And swift Araxes rolls his rapid way ; 
Nor vile Padaeans at the farthest east, 
Who load their tables with a hateful feast ; 
Nor where the Hebrus spreads his golden sand. 
Nor where the Tanais laves the Scythian land. 

But why should I insist on these alone, 
When thy vast conquest the whole world shall own : 
For thee remains the distant British shore. 
Unbent by Roman power, a conquest yet in store ; 
For thee remains the farthest torrid zone, 
Regions remote, and countries yet unknown. 

For air does this terraqueous globe surround, 
And five divisions in the orb are found ; 
Two parts whereof in chilly regions lie, 
Perpetual frosts, and an inclement sky. 
The earth is there with darkness wrapp'd around. 
And sullen ni*ht sits brooding o'er the ground : 
No living waters there the earth divide, 
Nor cheerful streams in pleasant wand'rings glide ; 
But everlasting ice the floods constrains, 
And drifts of snow o'erspread the dreary 'plains ; 


There never did the sun diffuse a ray, 
Or give the cheerful promise of a day. 

The middle regions feel the scorching sun, 
Whether he nearer brings our summer on ; 
Or when he does a swifter course display, 
And wheels in circles short the wintry day : 
Therefore the plough is never there in use, 
No corn the fields, nor herbs the lands produce ; 
No god indulgent makes the fields his care, 
Bacchus and Ceres never visit there. 
No cattle there can graze the smoking ground ; 
There nothing that possesses life is found. 

Between this freezing cold and scorching heat 
Our temperate zone is placed, a happy seat : 
To this opposed, a fellow climate lies, 
The same meridian holds, and temperate skies. 
Here first the stubborn steer to toil was broke. 
And oxen bent their neck beneath the yoke. 
Here vines were taught their flexile shoots to ease. 
And hang their clusters on the neighbouring trees, 
And annual harvest gave a large increase. 
Here first the earth received the vexing plough, 
And first the sea was raised with brazen prow : 
Then by degrees at distance cities rise, 
And swelling walls and towers divide the skies. 

Therefore where'er by fame thy acts are hurl'd. 
They shall be known by all in either world. 
For me, I cannot so much praise rehearse. 
Though Phcebus should himself inspire my verse. 
But Valgius, he can swell a warrior's name ; 
Valgius, next Homer in eternal fame. 
The works will not my leisure hours decay, 
Though Fortune vexes me, as is her way. 

For I could once command a stately seat, 
Splendidly wealthy, and sublimely great : 
And yellow harvests waving o'er the plain, 
Seem'd to o'ercrowd my fields with golden grain. 
When my unnumber'd flock of flocks were fled. 
And o'er the hills in crowded herds were spread. 


Sufficient for their lord my lambs did stray, 
And too, too many for the beasts of prey ; 
But now of every pleasing view bereft. 
Reflection on their loss is all I've left. 
Fresh grief I feel, and still repeated cares, 
Oft as I cast my eye on former years. 

But though the Fates, with more severe decrees, 
Shall fix a train of heavier woes than these. 
Yet still unwearied with my misery. 
The Muse shall never fail to sing of thee. 

Nor will the Muse alone suffice to prove 
How much I prize my friend, how much I love. 
For thee I 'd run the hazard of the sea, 
And tempt the roughest of the waves for thee. 
For thee I singly could whole troops oppose. 
Or throw myself where flaming ^tna glows. 

And while I think you but regard my name, 
I neither wish the Lydian realms to claim. 
Nor the vast honours of Gylippus' fame : 
Nor would I ask Apollo to inspire 
My Muse with Homer's strength and lasting fire ; 
If but this humble verse can pleasing be, 
No time shall stop my tongue from praising thee. 

And when I've sufier'd Fate's unalter'd doom. 
Closed in the gloomy mansion of a tomb ; 
If death in time shall make his forceful rape. 
Or I survive, though in a different shape ; 
If as a horse I beat the dusty plain, 
Or in a bull's majestic form remain ; 
Or if I as a feather'd fowl appear, 
And beat with flutt'i-ing wings the fluid air ; 
Or in a human form increase my days, 
I '11 always fill whole volumes with thy praise. Dart. 



Great god of war ! Sulpicia, lovely maid, 
To grace your calends, is in pomp array'd. 


If beauty warms you, quit th' ethereal height, 

E'en Cytherea 'will indulge the sight : 

But while you gaze o'er all her matchless charms. 

Beware your hands should meanly drop your arms ! 

When Cupid would the gods with love surprise, 

He lights his torches at her radiant eyes. 

A secret grace her every act improves. 

And pleasing follows wheresoe'er she moves : 

If loose her hair upon her bosom plays, 

Unnumber'd charms that negligence betrays : 

Or if 'tis plaited with a labour'd care. 

Alike the labour'd plaits become the fair. 

Whether rich Tyrian robes her charms invest. 

Or all in snowy white the nymph is drest, 

All, all she graces, still supremely fair, 

Still charms spectators with a fond despair. 

A thousand dresses thus Vertumnus wears. 

And beauteous equally in each appears. 

The richest tints and deepest Tyrian hue, 
To thee, wondrous maid ! are solely due : 
To thee th' Arabian husbandman should bring 
The spicy produce oS his eastern spring : 
Whatever gems the swarthy Indians boast, 
Their shelly treasures, and their golden coast. 
Alone thou merit'st ! Come, ye tuneful choir ! 
And come, bright Phoebus ! with thy plausive lyre ! 
This solemn festival harmonious praise, 
No theme so much deserves harmonious lays. 



Mars ! on thy calends, fair Sulpitia see, 
Deck'd in her gay habiliments for thee. 
Gome — Venus will forgive : descend, if wise : 
To view her beauties leave thyself the skies. 
But oh beware ! lest, gazing on her charms, 
Fierce as thou art, thou drop thy shameful arms. 
For from her eyes, when gods are Cupid's aim, 
He lights two lamps, that burn with keenest flame. 


In every act, and step, and motion seen, 

Grace stealthy glides, and forms her easy mien : 

Graceful her locks in loose disorder spread ; 

Graceful the smoother braid that binds her head : 

She charms, when Tyrian purple folds her limbs ; 

She charms, when white her snowy drapery swims : 

Thus blithe Vertumnus in th' Olympian haE 

Shifts all his thousand shapes, and charms in all. 

She only of her sex deserves the grain 

Of wool twice dipp'd in Tyrus' crimson stain : 

Hers to possess whate'er the Arab reaps 

Of harvest shrubs, whence liquid fragrance weeps : 

Whatever pearls the sable Indian's hand 

Culls on his eastern ocean's ruddy sand. 

Her on these calends, O ye Muses ! sing : 

Let thy shell'd harp, exulting Phoebus ! ring : 

The festal rite let future years prolong ; 

No nymph more worthy of your choral song. Elton. 



Whether, fierce churning boars ! in meads ye stray, 
Or haunt the shady mountain's devious way ; 
Whet not your tusks, my loved Cerinthus spare ! 
Know, Cupid ! I consign him to your care. 
What madness 'tis, shagg'd tractless wilds to beat. 
And wound with pointed thorns your tender feet : 
Oh ! why to savage beasts your charms oppose ? 
With toils and blood-hounds why their haunts enclose ? 
The lust of game decoys you far away ; 
Ye blood-hounds, perish, and ye toils, decay ! 

Yet, yet could I with loved Cerinthus rove 
Through dreary deserts and the thorny grove ; 
The cumbrous meshes on my shoulders bear, 
And dare the monsters with my barbed spear ; 
Could track the bounding stags through tainted grounds, 
Beat up their cover, and unchain the hounds : 
But most to spread our artful toils I 'd joy, 
For while we watch'd them, I could clasp the boy ! 


Then, as entranced in amorous bliss we lay, 
Mix'd soul with soul, and melted all away ! 
Snared in our nets, the boar might safe retire, 
And owe his safety to our mutual fire. 

Oh ! without me ne'er taste the joys of love, 
But a chaste hunter in my absence prove. 
And oh ! may boars the wanton fair destroy. 
Who would Cerinthus to their arms decoy ! 
Yet, yet I dread ! — Be sports your father's care ; 
But you, all passion ! to my arms repair ! Grainger. 


Ah ! spare, ye gentle boars, my lovely boy, 
(From his dear arms you need not fear annoy,) 
Whether through flowery meads you take your way; 
Or o'er the shadowy pathless mountains stray. 
Nor whet your tusks with fury to destroy ; 
Love is the guardian of my lovely boy : 
The lust of hunting leads his feet astray. 
And far from love directs his devious way. 
Oh ! perish all ye woods, ye yelping hounds, 
Wound me no more with your detested sounds. 
What strange fantastic notions fill that mind, 
That in these sports can any pleasure find ; 
To set the woody hills around with toils, 
With hands all torn to seek such worthless spoils ! 
Yet could I with my dear Cherinthus rove. 
Through devious forests and the shady grove. 
O'er mountains I the winding net would bear. 
And chase with pleasure the swift-footed deer ; 
I would uncouple with these hands the hounds, 
And fancy music in their deep-mouth'd sounds ; 
Then would the fields, then would the woods delight, 
If in thy arms I lay, my love, my light, 
Before the very toils, my charming boy. 
Dissolved in pleasure, panting with the joy ; 
Though in the net, the boar might safe retire, 
And not disturb our bliss with furious ire. 
Then without me ne'er taste the sweets of love, 
But a chaste hunter in my absence prove ; 


And may the ravenous beasts of prey destroy 
Whatever she would clasp my lovely boy. 
Then to thy parent quit the huntsman's charms, 
And swiftly fly to thy Sulpitia's arms. Otwat. 


Oh savage boar ! where'er thy haunt is found, 
In champaign meads or mountain thickets deep. 

Spare my dear youth ; nor whet thy fangs to wound ; 
May guardian Love the lover harmless keep. 

Him far away the wandering chase has led : 
Wither all woods and perish every, hound ! 

What frantic mood, the tangled net to spread. 
And sore his tender handi with brambles wound ! 

Where is the joy, to thread the forest lair, 

While with hook'd thorns thy snowy legs are fray'd ? 

But if, Cherinthus, I thy wanderings share, 

Thy nets I'll trail through every mountain glade. 

Myself will track the nimble roebuck's trace, 
And from the hound the iron leash remove : 

Then woods will charm me, when in thy embrace 
The conscious nets behold me, oh my love ! 

Unharm'd the boar shall break the tangling snare. 
Lest our stolen hours of bliss impeded be : 

But, far from me, soft Venus' joys forbear ; 
With Dian spread the nets, when far from me. 

May she, that robs me of thy dear embrace, 
Fall to the woodland beasts, by peacemeal torn : 

But to thy father leave the toilsome chase ; 

Fly to my arms, on wings of transport borne. Elton. 

ON sulpicia's illness. 

Come, Phoebus ! with your loosely floating hair, 
Oh soothe her torture, and restore the fair ! 
Come, quickly come ! we supplicant implore, 
Such charms your happy skill ne'er saved before ! 


Let not her frame consumptive pine away, 
Her eyes grow languid, and her bloom decay ; 
Propitious come ; and with you bring along 
Each pain-subduing herb and soothing song ; 
Or real ills, or whate'er ills we fear, 
To ocean's farthest verge let torrents bear. 
Oh 1 rack no more, with harsh, unkind delays. 
The youth, who ceaseless for her safety prays ; 
'Twixt love and rage his tortur'd soul is torn ; 
And now he prays, now treats the gods with scorn. 

Take heart, fond youth ; you have not vainly pray'd. 
Still persevere to love th' enchanting maid : 
Sulpicia is your own ! for you she sighs, 
And slights all other conquests of her eyes : 
Dry then your tears ; your tears would fitly flow 
Did she on others her esteem bestow. 

O come ! what honour will be yours, to save 
At once two lovers from the doleful grave ? 
Then both will emulous exalt your skill ; 
With grateful tablets both your temples fill ; 
Both heap with spicy gums your sacred fire ; 
Both sing your praises to th' harmonious lyre : 
Your brother-gods will prize your healing powers. 
Lament their attributes, and envy yours. Grainger. 



With feasts I '11 ever grace the sacred morn. 
When my Cerinthus, lovely youth ! was born. 
At birth to you th' unerring Sisters sung 
Unbounded empire o'er the gay and young : 
But I, chief I ! (if you my love repay,) 
With rapture own your ever-pleasing sway. 
This I conjure you, by your charming eyes, 
Where love's soft god in wanton ambush lies ! 
This by your genius and the joys we stole. 
Whose sweet remembrance still enchants my soul ! 
2 c 2 


Great natal Genius ! grant my heart's desire, 
So shall I heap with costly gums your fire ! 
Whenever fancy paints me to the boy, 
Let his breast pant with an impatient joy : 
But if the libertine for others sigh, 
(Which Love forbid !) Love ! your aid deny. 
Nor, Love ! be partial, let us both confess 
The pleasing pain, or make my passion less. 
But oh ! much rather 'tis my soul's desire, 
That both may feel an equal, endless fire. 

In secret my Cerinthus begs the same. 
But the youth blushes to confess his flame : 
Assent, thou god ! to whom his heart is known. 
Whether he public ask, or secret own. Gkaingek. 



Accept, natal queen ! with placent air. 

The incense ofier'd by the learned fair. 

She's robed in cheerful pomp, O power divine ! 

She 's robed to decorate your matron shrine ; 

Such her pretence ; but well her lover knows 

Whence her gay look, and whence her finery flows. 

Thou who dost o'er the nuptial bed preside. 
Oh ! let not envious night their joys divide, 
But make the bridegroom amorous as the bride! 
So shall they tally, matchless lovely pair ! 
A youth all transport, and a melting fair ! 
Then let no spies their secret haunts explore ; 
Teach them thy wiles, O Love ! and guard the door. 

Assent, chaste queen ! in purple pomp appear ; 
Thrice wine is pour'd, and cakes await you, here. 
Her mother tells her for what boon to pray ; 
Her heart denies it, though her lips obey. 
She burns, that altar as the flames devour ; 
She burns, and slights the safety in her power. 


So may the boy, whose chains you proudly wear, 
Through youth the soft indulgent anguish bear ; 
And when old age has chill'd his every vein, 
The dear remembrance may he still retain ! 



sulpicia's avowal. 

Let other maids, whose eyes less prosperous prove. 
Publish my weakness, and condemn my love. 

Exult, my heart ! at last the queen of joy. 
Won by the music of her votary's strain, 

Leads to the couch of bliss herself the boy ; 
And bids enjoyment thrill in every vein. 

Last night entranced in ecstasy we lay, ^ 

And chid the quick, too quick return of day ! 

But stop, my hand ! beware what loose you scrawl. 

Lest into curious hands the billet fall. 

No— the remembrance charms ! — begone, grimace ! 

Matrons ! be yours formality of face. 

Know, with a youth of worth the night I spent. 

And cannot, cannot for my soul, repent ! Geaingek. 

POEM Vlly 

At last the natal odious morn draws high, 
When to your cold, cold villa I must go : 

There, far, too far from my Cerinthus sigh : 
Oh why, Messala ! will you plague me so ? 

Let studious mortals prize the sylvan scene. 
And ancient maidens hide them in the shade ; 

Green trees perpetually give me the spleen ; 
For crowds, for joy, for Eome, Sulpicia's made ! 

Your too officious kindness gives me pain. 

How fall the hail-stones ! hark ! how howls the wind ! 
Then know, to grace your birth-day should I deign, 

My soul, my all, I leave at Eome behind. Gkain-gek. 




At last the fair's determiii'd not to go : 

My lord ! you Hnow the whimsies of the sex. 

Then let us gay carouse, let odours flow ; 
Your mind no longer with her absence vex : 

For, oh ! consider, time incessant flies ; 

But every day's a birth-day to the wise ! Grainger. 



That I, descended of Patrician race, 

With charms of fortune, and with charms of face, 

Am so indifferent grown to you of late. 

So little cared for, now excites no hate. 

Rare taste, and worthy of a poet's brain. 

To prey on garbage, and a slave adore ! 
In such to find out charms, a bard must feign 

Beyond what fiction ever feign'd of yore. 
Her friends may think Sulpicia is disgraced ; 
No ! no ! she honours your transcendent taste. 


sulpicia to CERINTHUS. 

On my account, to grief a ceaseless prey. 
Dost thou a sympathetic anguish prove ? 

I would not wish to live another day. 
If my recovery did not charm my love : 

For what were life, and health, and bloom to me, 

Were they displeasing, beauteous youth ! to thee. 




Ip from the bottom of my love-sick heart, 

Of last night's coyness I do not repent, 
May I no more your tender anguish hear, 
No longer see you shed th' impassion'd tear. 

You grasp'd my knees, and yet to let you part — 
Oh night more happy with Cerinthus spent ! 
My flame with coyness to conceal I thought. 
But this concealment was too deatly bought. 




To you my tongue eternal fealty swore. 

My lips the deed with conscious rapture own ; 

A fickle libertine I rove no more. 

You only please, and lovely seem alone. 

The numerous beauties that gay Rome can boast. 
With you compared, are ugliness at best ; 

On me their bloom and practised smiles are lost, 
Drive then, my fair ! suspicion from your breast. 

Ah no ! suspicion is the test of love : 
I too dread rivals, I'm suspicious grovm ; 

Your charms the most insensate heart must move ; 
Would you were beauteous in my eyes alone ! 

I want not man to envy my sweet fate, 

I little care that others think me blest ; 
Of happy conquests let the coxcomb prate ; 

Vain-glorious .vaunts the silent wise detest. 

Supremely pleased with you, my heavenly fair ! 

In any trackless desert I could dwell ; 
From our recess your smiles would banish care, 

Your eyes give lustre to the midnight cell. 


For various converse I should long no more, 
The blithe, the moral, witty, and severe ; 

Its various arts are hers whom I adore ; 
She can depress, exalt, instruct, and cheer. 

Should mighty Jove send down from heaven a maid. 
With Venus' cestus zoned, my faith to try, 

(So, as I truth declare, me Juno aid !) 
For you I'd scorn the charmer of the sky. 

But hold ! you 're mad to vow, unthinking fool ! 

Her boundless sway you're mad to let her know: 
Safe from alarms, she'll treat you as a tool — 

Ah, babbling tongue ! from thee what mischiefs flow ! 

Yet let her use me with neglect, disdain ; 

In all, subservient to her will I'll prove; 
Whate'er I feel, her slave I'U still remain ; 

Who shrinks from sorrow, cannot be in love ! 

Imperial Queen of Bliss ! with fetters bound, 
I'll sit me down before your holy fane ; 

You kindly heal the constant lover's wound, 
Th' inconstant torture with increase of pain. 



" Never shall woman's smile have power 
To win me from those gentle charms ! " 

Thus swore I in that happy hour 

When Love first gave them to my arms. 

And still alone thou charm'st my sight — 
Still, though our city proudly shine 

With forms and faces fair and bright, 
I see none fair or bright but thine. 

Would thou wert fair for only me. 
And couldst no heart but mine allure ! 

To all men else unpleasing be. 
So shall I feel my prize secure. 


Oh love like mine ne'er wants the zest 

Of others' envy, others' praise ; 
But in its silence safely blest, 

Broods o'er a bliss it ne'er betrays. 

Charm of my life ! by whose sweet power 
All cares are hush'd, all ills subdued — 

My light in ev'n the darkest hour, 
My crowd in deepest solitude ! 

No ; not though heaven itself sent down 
Some maid of more than heavenly charms, 

With bliss undreamt thy bard to crown. 

Would I for her forsake those arms. Mooke. 


No second love shall e'er my heart surprise. 
This solemn league did first our passion bind : 

Thou, only thou, canst please thy lover's eyes, 
Thy voice alone can soothe his troubled mind. 

Oh that thy charms were only fair to me. 
Displease all others, and secure my rest, 

No need of envy, — ^let me happy be, 
I little care that others know me blest. 

With thee in gloomy deserts let me dwell. 

Where never human footstep mark'd the ground ; 

Thou, light of life, all darkness canst expel, 
And seem a world with solitude around. 

I say too much — my heedless words restore. 
My tongue undoes me in this loving hour ; 

Thou know'st thy strength, and thence insulting more, 
Wilt make me feel the weight of all thy power. 

Whate'er I feel, thy slave I will remain. 
Nor fly the burden I am form'd to bear ; 

In chains 111 sit me down at Venus' fane. 

She knows my wrongs, and will regard my prayer. 




Fame says, my mistress loves another swain ; 

Would I were deaf, when Fame repeats the wrong ! 
All crimes to her imputed give me pain, 

Not change my love : Fame, stop your saucy tongue ! 




C. stands for Catullus ; T. for TibuUus ; V. for the Vigil of Venus. Roman 
numerals mark the number of the poem, Arabic that of tiie page. 

Achilles, song of the Fates pro- 
phetic of, 68. 

Acme and Septimius, C. xlii. 

Admetus, Apollo pastured the oxen 
of, T. I. iii., HI. iv. 

Adultery, punishment for, C. xt. ; 
the growth of, C. cviii. 

.^igeus, father of Theseus, 66. 

iEmilius, nasty, C. xcvii. 

.lEneas, the Sibyl's prophecy to, T. 

II. V. 

Aganippe, the cold, C. Ixi. 
Alba Longa, T. ii. t. 
Alphenus, C. xxvii. See Varus. 
Amalthea, the Sibyl, T. ii. v. 
Amastris, town of, C. iv. 
Amathus, town of, C. xxvi. 
Amathusian Venus, 83, note. 
Ambarvalia, the, T. ii. i. 
Amyclse undone by silence, V. 104. 
Anacreon quoted, 26, 31. 
Ancena, a Sibyl, T. ii. v. 
Androgeos, C. Ixiv. 
Angerianus, lines by, translated by 

Moore, 57, note. 
Annals of Volusius, the, C. xxxvi., 

Antimachus, the turgid, C. xci. 
Apollo. See Phoebus. 
Apple, the, a love token, 74. 
Aquinius, a bad poet, C. xiv. 
Aquitaine, T. i. vii., ii. i. 

Arar, river, T. i. vii. 

Ariadne, the story of, 61 ; T. in. vi. 

Ariosto, imitations of Catullus by, 

13, 17, 53. 
Amus, T. IV. viii. 
Arrius and his ^aspirations, C. Ixxxi. 
Arsinoe, wife of Ptolemy, C. Ixvi. 
Arupinian, the aged, T. iv. i. 
Asinius, a practical joker, C. xii. 
Atalanta, the swift, C. ii. 
Athos, Mount, 77. 
Atys, the poem- of, C. Ixiii. 
Aufilena, C. c. ex. exi. 
Aufilenus, C. c. 

Aurelius, to, C. xi. xv. xvi. xxi. 
Aurunculeia. See Julia. 


Bacchus loves the Naiads, T. iii. v., 
C. xxvii. ; identified with Osiris, 
T. I. viii. 

Balbus, C. Ixiv. 

Battiades, (Callimachus,) C. Ixv. 

Battus, C. vii. 

Bellona, the priestess of, 122. 

Berenice's Hair, C. Ixvi. ; her his- 
tory, 76, note. 

Bithynia, C. v. ; its mineral wealth, 
C. X. ; the return home from, C. 
xxxi. ; farewell to, C. xlvi. 



Britons, the horrible and remotest, 
C. xlv. 

Brixia, 80. 

Bussy — Rabutin, imitation of Ca- 
tullus by, 94. 

CeecUius, invitation to the poet, C 

Csecilius, C. Ixiv. 
Caelius, C. Iviii. c. 
Ceesar, Julius, lampoons on, C. xxix. 

liv. Ivii. ; contempt for, C. Ixxxix 
Ciesius, a bad poet, C. xiv. 
Callimachus, 28, 74, 75, 87. 
Callisto, daughter of Lycaon, C. 

Calvus, C. Licinius, an orator and 

poet, C. xiv. 1. liii. xcvi. 
Camerius, the search for, C. Iv. 
Camomile, 49. 
Camutus, T. i. viii. 
Cato, a friend of Catullus, C. Ivi. 
Catullus, Life of, 1 ; to himself, C. 

viii. Ixxiii. ; his dialogue ■with a 

door, C. Ixiv. ; styled " doctus," 

3, T. III. vi. ; his grief for his 

brother's death, C. Ixv. Ixviii. ci. ; 

liis villa, C. xxxi. ; his farm, C. 

Celtiberians wash their teeth with 

urine, C. xxxviii. xxxix. 
Cerinthus, T. ii. ii., iv. iii. iv. v. 

viii. ix. — xii. 
Chalked feet of slaves, 146. 
Chalybes, the, 77. 
Chaulieu, Epigram by, 10, note. 
Chiron, 68. 
Choaspes, river, 160. 
Cicero, M. Tullius, C. xlix. 
Cinna, C. x. xci. 
Claudian, extract from, 81. 
Cnidus, reedy, C. xxxvi. 
Coan garments, 139. 
Colonia, to the town of, C. xvii. 
Cominius, C. cviii. 
Conon, an astronomer, C. Ixvi. 
Cornelius Nepos, C. i. ; perhaps also 

Oomilicius, C. xxxviii. 

Comutus, T. II. iii. 

Country, Love bom in the, 103, 

136 ; relish of the Romans for 

the, 108, note. 
Cranon, a town of Thessaly, 60. 
Croxall, imitation of Tibullus, 167. 
Cybele, C. xxxv. Ixiii. 
Cycnaean peak, the, 80. 
Cydnus, river, T. i. viii. 
Cyrene, C. vii. 
Cyrus, the folly of, T,. iv. i. 
Cytorus, box-clad, C. iv. 

Delia, (Diana,) V. 102. 

Delia, the mistress of Tibullus, her 

real name, 6 ; addressed, T. i. i. 

ii. iii. V. vi. vii. ; her condition in 

life, 123 ; her mother, ib. 
Devovere, the meaning of the word 

explained, 120, note. 
Dia, or Naxos, 61 . 
Diana, hymn to, C. xxxiv. 
Dindymene. See Cybele. 
Dione, the same as Venus, C. Ivi., V. 
Dog, the watch,dumb for the wealthy 

lover, 140. 
Domitius Marsus on the death of 

Tibullus, 5, 168. 
Dyrrachium, C. xxxvi. 


Egnalius grins to show his white 
teeth, C. xxxix. ; which he scrubs 
with his own urine, ib. and 

Elysium, the lover in, T. i. iii. 

Emerald, or Smaragdus, T. i. i.> 
II. iv. 

Epithalamia, C. Ixi. Ixii. 

Etruscans, fat, C. xxxix. 

FabuUus, C. xii. ; invitation to, C. 

Faith, a goddess, C. xxvii. 
Fenelon on Catullus, 92, note. 
Flavins, mysterious amour of, C. vi. 



Flammeum, the, C. Ixi. 

Formianus. See Mamurra. 

Fuffitius, an old rogue, C. liv. 

Funeral, details of a Roman, T. iii. 

meats devoured ty the des- 
titute, C. xlvii. ^ 

ceremonies at his brother's 

tomb, C. xcvi. 
Furius, lines to, C. xi. xvi. xxiii. 

GallsB, priests of Cybele, C. Ixiii. 

Gallic beagle, C. xlii. 

Gallus, C. Ixxviii. 

Garlands hung on lovers' doors, C. 
Ixiii., T. I. ii. 

Garumna, river, T. i. viii. 

Gaul, long-haired, 28. 

Gellius, C. Ixxiv. Ixxix. Ixxx. 
Ixxxviii. Ixxxix. xc. xci. cxvi. 

Genius, the god, 1 26. 

Golden Fleece, the, 59. 

Grotius, Latin version of an epi- 
gram from the Greek Anthology, 

Gylippus, T. IV. i. 

Gyndus, river, 160. 


Hamadryads, C. Ixi. 

Harpocrates, C. cii. 

Herophile, a Sibyl, T. ii. v. 

Hippomanes, the, 140, note. 

Hope, T. II. 

Hortalus, epistle to, C. Ixv. 

Hospitality, how regarded by the 

Romans, 81. 
Hymen, C. Ixi. 
Hymn to Diana, C. xxxiv. 
HypsithiUa, petition to, C. xxxii. 

Icarus, kiug of Laconia, the legend 

of, 157. 
Ilia embraced by Mars, T. ii. v. 
Inconstancy of woman, C. Ixvii. 

Infernal regions described, T. i. iii. 
Infidelity, venial, of a mistress, 

Ionian, pronounced Hionian, C. 

Isis, the worship of, 113, 114, 119. 

Jones, Sir William, imitation of 

Catullus, 50. 
Julia, Ailrunculeia, on the marriage 

of Manlius and, C. Ixi. 
Juno, 126, Tiote. 
Juventius, to, C. xxiv. Ixxxi. 


Kalends of March, T. iii. i. 
Kisses, insatiable appetite for, C. v. 

vii. xlviii. ; and bites, C. viii. ; 

medicaments for removing the 

livid marks caused by, T. 121 ; 

bitter, C. xcix. 

Ladas, C. Iv. 

Lansdown's, Lord, imitation of Ca- 
tullus, 37. 

Lanuvian,swarthy and long-toothed, 
C. xxxix. 

Laodamia, C. Ixviii. 

Lares and Penates, 106, note. 

Larian lake, C. xxxv. 

Laserpitium, 0. vii. note. 

Laughter of waves, 68 ; of a house, 
C. xxxi. Ixiv. (68.) 

Lesbia, her real name, 2 ; her spar- 
row, C. ii. iii.; her kisses, C. v. 
vii. ; farewell to, C. viii. ; mes- 
sage to, C. xi. ; Sappho's Ode ap- 
plied to, C. Ii. ; her infamy, C. 
Iviii. ; Catullus loves and scorns 
her, C. Ixix. ; his utter infatuation 
for her, C. Ixxiii. ; her husband 
pleased to hear her abuse Catul- 
lus, C. Ixxx. ; Quintia inferior to 
her in beauty, C. Ixxxiii. ; her 
love manifests itself by railing, 
C. Ixxxviii. ; Catullus denies that 



he has reviled her, C. xcix. ; his 
reconciliation Tvith her, C. cii. ; 
her vow, C. civ. 

Libo, filthy, C. liv. 

Liciniua. See Calvus. 

Liger, or Loire, the, T. i. 

Lots, divination by, T. i. 

Love, the god, bom in the country, 
V. 103, T. II. i. ; disarmed, yet 
armed, V. 101. 

Love, and hate, 0. Ixxxii. ; lecture 
on the art of, T. i. iv. ; partner- 
ship in, 83 ; stratagems, T. i. vii. 

Lover, the, divinely protected from 
danger, T. i. ii. 

Lucretius quoted, 82, 110. 

Lydian Lake, the, C. xxxi. 

Lygdamus, T. iii. ii. 


Macer, T. ii. vi. 

Msenades, C. Ixi. 

Magic, T. I. ii. 

Magus, the birth of a, C. xc. 

Mamurra, C. xxix. xli. xliii. Ivii. 
See Mentula. 

Mamurra's mistress, C. xli. xliii. 

Manlius, marriage of, C. Ixi. ; epis- 
tle to, C. Ixviii. 

Marathus, T. i. iv. viii. 

Marjoram, sweet. Hymen's wreath 
of, C. Ixi. 

Marriage of Peleus and Thetis, C. 

Marrucinian, remarks on the. epi- 
thet, 17, note. 

Mars and Ilia, T. ii. v. 

Martial quoted, 10. 

Melampus, 160. 

Memmius, C. xxix. 

Memnon, C. Ixvi. 

Memphis, the bull of, 125. 

Menenus, C. lix. 

Mentula, a nickname of Mamurra, 
C. xciv. cv. cxiv. cxv. 

Mermessia, T. ii. v. 

Messala, T. i. i. iii. v. vii., ii. i. v., 
IV. i. viii. 

Messalinus, T. ii. v. 

Minos, C. Ixiv. 

Minotaur, the, C. Ixiv. 
Molorchus, 157. 


Naso, epigram on, C. cxii. 

Neaera, mistress of TibuUus, T. iii. 

i. ii. iii. iv. vi. 
Nemesis, C. 40, 72. 
Nemesis, mistress of Tibullus, T. 

II. iii. iv. vi. vii. 
Nereids gazing on the Argo, 59. 
Nile, the, T. i. viii. 
Nisus, the purple hair of, 117. 
Nonius Struma, C. Iii. 
Numicus, river, T. ii. v. 

Osiris, identified with Bacchus, 125. 
Otho, C. liv. 

Ovid, imitations of Catullus by, 73 ; 
quoted, 20, 50, 113, 121, 123, 154. 

Pales, T. 1. i., ii. v. 

PalDia, the, T. ii. v. 

Pan, T. II. V. 

Panchaia, T. iii. ii. 

Pasithea, C. Ixi. 

Peace, invocation to, T. i. x. 

Peleus and Thetis, inarriage of, C. 

Peueus, 68. 

Pentheus, the legend of, 156. 
Perjuries, lovers', T. i. iv., m. vi. 
Pliseacia, T. i. iii., iv. i. 
Phcebus, appears to Tibullus in a 

dream, T. iii. iv. 
Pholoe,T. I. viii. 
Phrygian marble, 150. 
Phryne, a bawd, T. ii. vi. 
Pinnace, the praise of the, C. iv. 
Pirajus, C. Ixiv. 
Pisaurum, C. Ixxxi. 
Piso, C. xxviii. 

Poet, the chaste, T. in. iv., G. xvi. 
Poetry, rustic origin of, 135. 
PoUio, C. xii^' 
Polyxenaf C. Ixiv. 



Pontus, the spoil of, 28. 
Pope's imitation of CatuUus, 77. 
Porcius, C. xlTii. 

Porters, house, at Rome, 108, note. 
Posthumia, a toper, C. xxvii. 
Poverty, congratulations on, C. xx. 
Priapus, C. xvui. xix. xx., T. i. i. 

Prometheus, 69. 
Protesilaus, 84. 


Quarrel of rustic lovers, the, 133, 

Quintia and Lesbia compared, C. 

Quintilia, on the death of, C. xcvi. 
Quintius, C. Ixxxii. t. 


Ravidus, to, C. xl. 

Rhesus, king of Thrace, C. It. 

Roads, Roman, 126. 

Romulus, Csesar addressed by that 

name, C. xxix. 
Rose, the, tinged by the blood of 

Venus, 101. 
Rufa, C. lix. 
Rufulus, C. lix. 
Rufus, to, C. Ixvi. Ixxiv. 

Salisubsuli, priests of Mars, C. xvii. 

Santonic Sea, T. i. Tiii. 

Sappho, translation of ode by, C. U. 

Saturnalia, the, C. xiv. 

Saturn's unlucky day, T. i. iii. ; 

reign, ib. 
Satyrs, 67. 

Septimius and Acme, C. xUi. 
Serapis, temple of, C. x. 
Setabis, napkins from, C. xii. xxv. 
Sextianus, reads a speech to his 

guests, C. xliv. 
Shoes, women's, C. Ixviii. ; of horses 

not nailed on, C. xvii. 
Sileni, 67. 
Silo, a pimp, C. xcviii. 

Siraonides, C. xxxviii. 
Sirmio, peninsula of, C. xxxi. 
Sistrum, the, T. i. iii. 
Smyrna, Cinna's poem, C. xcv. 
Sneezing, C. xlv. 
Socration, C. xlvii. 
Sparrow, Lesbia's, C. ii. iii. 
Spencer's Faery Queen quoted, 54. 
Spinning, the act of, described, 69. 
Spittle, its occult Tikues, T. i. ii. v. 
Struma Nonius, C. Iii. 
Sulfenus, a bad poet, C. xiv. xxii. 
Sulla, C. xiv. 
Sulpicia, T. it. 

Tablets, C. xxxix. 

Tagus, the golden, C. xxix. 

Talus, C. Iv. 

Tasso quoted, 53. 

Telemachus, C. Ixi. 

Tethys, C. Ixvi. IxxxviU. 

Thalassius, C. Ixi. 

Thallus, to, C. xxv. 

Theseus and Ariadne, C. Ixiv., T. 
III. vi. 

Thetis, marriage of Peleus and, C. 

Thia, 77. 

Thiasus, 56. 

Thyades, C. Ixiv. 

Thynia, C. xxxL 

Thyonian juice, C. xxvii. 

Top, simile of the, T. i. v. 

Torquatus. See Manlius. 

Town, to a, C. xvii. 

Troy, C. 1. Ixv. 84 ; project for 
making it the capital of the Ro- 
man empire, 141. 

Tumus, T. II. V. 

Tyro, daughter of Salmoneus, C, 


Umbrian hog, C. xxxix. 
Unlucky, things deemed, C. v. vii. 

xxiii. Ixi. (4S), T. I. iii. 
Urania, C. Ixi, 


Valgius, T. II. T. 
Vatinian hatred, C. xiv. 
Vatinius, C. lii. liii. 
Velabrum, the, T. ii. t. 
Venus, the source of all 

Verannius, C. ix. xii. xxviii. 
Verona, 80, 82. 
Verro, C. Ixxi. Ixxx. 

Vertumnus, T. iv. ii. 
Vettius, stinking, C. liv. xcviii. 
Vibennii, on the, C. xxxiii. 
Virginity protected by the zone, 10; 

singular test of, 71. 
VolusiuB, a bad poet, C. xxxvi. xci. 

Zephyritis, C. Ixvi. 

Zone, loosing the, C. ii. Ixi. 


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PLAXMAN'S HOMER. Seventy-five beautiful Compositions to the Iliad and Odybsby, 
«ogravcd under Flaxma«'s inspection, by Pikoli, Mos-bb, and Blake. 2 vols, oblong folio 
^pub. at si. as.), boards 21. 2s. I8O5 

F1AX1VIAN*S /ESCHYLUS, Thirty-six beautiful CompoBidons from. Oblong folio (pub. at 
21. I2s. 6d.), boards U. Is. 1831 

FLAXMAN'S HESIOD, Thirty-seven beautiful Compositions from. Oblong folio (pub. at 

21. 12s. 6d.), boards U. bs. 1817 

" Flaxman's unequalled Compositions from Homer, .Sechylus, and Heslod. have long 

been the adLulzation of Europe; of their simplicity and beauty the pen is quite mcapabie oC 

conveying an adequate impression." — Sir Thomas Laimence. 

FLAXMAN'S ACTS OF MERCY. A Series of Eight Compositions, in the manner of 
Ancient Sculpture, engraved in imiution of the original Drawings, by F. C. Lewis. Oblong 
folio (pub. at 2t. 2s.), half-hound morocco, 16s. 1831 


Gold and Colours. 2 vols, super-royal 8vo, hall-bound, micut (pwb. at U. lOs.), U. 10s. 
_, the same, large paper, 2 vols, royal 4to, half-hound, uncut (pub. at lo;. 10«.), Oi. 6s. 

QELL AND GANDY'S POMPEIANA; or, r-jpography, Edifices, and Ornaments 0/ 

Pompeii. Original Series, containing theHesifct-of the Excavations previous to 18IB 2 vols 
royal 8vo, best edition, with upwards of 100 beautiful Line Engravings by Goodall, Cookw' 
Heath, Pye, etc. (pub. at IL 4s.), boards, 3i. 3*. 1824 

GEMS OF -ART, 36 FINE ENGRAVIWGS, after Rembrandt, Cuyp, Reynolds, Pous- 
SIX, Teniebs, Cokre&io, Vakdebvelue, folio, proof impressions, in portfolio 
(pub. at it. 8s. ), U. Lis. &d. 

GILLRAY'S CARICATURES, printed from the Original Plates, all engraved hy himself 
between 1779 and 1810, comprising the best Political and Humorous Satires ol tlie Reisn of 
George the Third, ill upwards of 600 highly spirited En^avnifts. In I large vul. atlas folio 
(exactly uniform with the original Hogarth, as sold by the advertiser), half-bound ved morocco 
extra, gilt edges, 8/. Rs. 

Remarks on Domestic Architecture. Royal 8to, Plates, cloth (pub, at U.), 7s. 

GOETHE'S FAUST, ILLUSTRATED BY RETZSCH in 26 beautiful Outlines. Royal 
atoiPuD. at U. Is.), gilt c'"th. 10s. 6d. , . . , 

This edition contains a iiauslation of the ongmal poem, viiD historical and descriptive notti. 

B % 


GOODWIN'S DOMESTIC ARCHITECTURE A Scries of New Designs for ManBlom; 
vtllas, Kectory-HouseH. Parsonage-Houses; Jtuiliff's, Garrlerer's, Gamekeeper's, and Park- 
Gale Lodges: Ccittajrca and oilier Kesfdences, in llie Grecian, Italiaii, and Old Engliali Style 
of Arcliiiecture : wUli EBtimales. 2 vols, royal 4to, % PJatea (pub. at bi. 5j,), cloth, 2/. 12*. &/.. 


TECTUllE : chl( *1- ci. the Wertteni Side of India. Atlas 4io. ConslKtinp of 30 most be&uli- 

ftilly coloured Plates, hifclily IJiiislied, in iniiuition of Drawings; with Descriptive Lett«- 

press. [Pull* at Vil. 12».), lialf-houiid mniocco. jrill ednes, U. &i. 1830 

This is perhaps the most exquiaitcly-coloured volume of landscapes ever produced. 

HANSARD'S ILLUSTRATED BOOK OF ARCHERY. P-eing the complete History and 
PratClce oftlie Art: tntersperHuil with numerous Anuudotes; forniinp a complete Manual for^ 
tYiK ^•'"*■nlan. 8vo. Illustrated hv .19 heautiful Line Engravljigs;, exquisitely fimshed, by 
ENGi.Eiit,ART, PORTEURY, etc., after Designs by Stephasofp (pub. at U. Ui.Gd,), gilt clotb, 
10a. Gd. 

folio. 30 beautifully colcured Engravings, with 30 Vignenes of Heads, Skins, &c. (pub. at' 
10^. lOn.}, hf. morocco, bi, 6s. 1841 

HARRIS'S WILD SPORTS OF SOUTHERN AFRICA. Imp!. Svo. 26 beautifully co- 
loured Engravings, and a Map (pub. at 21. 2s.}, gilt cloth, gilt edges, IL If. 184^ 

HEATH'S CAR'CATURE SCRAP BOOK, on fiO sheets, containing upwards of lOOO Coinic'< 
Subjects after Seymour, CRUiKSHANk Phjz, and other eminent Caricaturists, oblong folio; 
(pub. at 21. 2*.), cloth, gilt, I5>. 

This clever and entertaining voIun,e Is now enlarged by ten additional sheets, each eytt-r 
taining numerous subjects. It includes the whole ol Heath's Omnium Gatherum, both Series; 
Illuslration-s of Demonology and Witchcraft, Old Ways and New Ways; Nautical Dictionaryi 
Scenes in London ; Sayings and Do ngs, etc. ; a series of humorous illustrations of Proverbs, 
etc. As a largp and almost infinite storeliouae of humour it stands alone. To the yonny 
artist it would he found a most valuable collection of studies; and to the family circle a con- 
stant source of unexceptionable amusement. 

HOGARTH'S WORKS ENGRAVED BY HIMSELF. 153 fine Plates (including the twtr 
well-known " suppressed Plates"), with elaborate Letterpress Descriptions, by J. Nichols.; 
AtUs folio (pub. at 50/.), half-bound morocco, gilt back and edges, with a secret pocket for; 
suppressed plates, 71- 7<> 1822-^ 

HOLBEIN'S COURT OF HENRY THE EIGHTH. A Series of 80 exquisitely beatiti/tal 

Portraits, engraved by Baktoi.ozzi, Coupeh, and others. In imitation of the originalj 
Drawings preserved in the Royal Collection at Windsor; with Historical and B iograpbicali 
Letter-press by Edmund Louce, Est). Published hy John Chamberlaikr. Imperial 4to' 
(puJ). at 151. 15s.), half-bound morocco, full gilt back ami edges, 5^ 15i. 6d. 1B1& 

HOFLANDS BRITISH ANGLER'S MANUAL; Edited by Edward Jessb. Esa.; or/ 
the Art of Angring in England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland ; including a Piscatorial Account 
of the prlncipu! Rivers, Lakes, and Trout Streams, with Instructions in Fly Fishing, Trolling^ 
and Angling of every Description. With upwards of 80 exquisite Plates, many of which arft, 
highly-finished Landscapes engraved on Steel, the remainder beautifully engraved on Wood.' 
8V0, elegant in gilt cloth, 12«. 184&;, 

HOPE'S COSTUME OF THE ANCIENTS. Illustrated in upwards of 320 beautifiilly- 
engraved Plates, containing Representations of Egy]itian, Greek, and Roman Habits and 
Dresses, 2 vols, royal Svo^ New Edition, with neariy 20 additional Plates, boards, reduced 
to 2t. 5s. 1841 

HOWARD (FRANK) ON COLOUR, as ti Means of Art, being an adaptation of the Expe-i 
rienue of Professorate the practice of Amateurs, illustrated by 18 coloured Plates, post 8to, 
cloth gilt, 8s. 

In this able volume are shown the cround colours in which the most celebrated painters 
worked. It is very valuable to the connoisseur, as well as the sIudeDt, in pulniing and water- 
colour drawing. 

HOWARD'S (HENRY, R. A.) LECTURES ON PAINTING. Delivered »rt the Royal" 
Academy, with a Memoir, by bis son, Fkank Howard, large postSvo, cloth, 7j. Gd, ISlft; 

HOWARD'S (FRANK) SPIRIT OF SHAKSPEARE. 48S fine outline Plates, illustrative of 

all the principal iDcidents iu the Dramas of our national Bard, 5 vols. 8vo (pub. at 14/. 8s.},; 

clsth, 21. 2«. 1827— 3S : 

*^* The 483 Plates may bo had without the letter-press, for illustrating all 8vo editions of I 

Shnkfipcarn, for \i. Us. Qd, 


llluNtnited with 12 splendid Examples from the Great Masters of the Art, selected from Misaalsp; 
all b««utifulty Illuminated. Square 12mo, ducoraied blriding, 1/. Is. 

HUMPHREY'S COINS OF. ENGLAND, a Sketch nf the iirogress of the English Coinage, 
ft-om the earllcKt period to the present time, with 22» beautiful fac-siniiles of the most interest- 
ing specimenti. illuminated in gold, silver, and copper, square Hvo, neatly decorated binding, 18i. 


HABITATIONS. Hoyul 4to, 37 Plates (pub. at 2/. 2s.), half morocco 

4eo 2/ Flatei (p'>b. at 1^ Is.), half uoruoc'', ]U. IMl 


""^^'?„°^f'o9'?^ ''°" Rf^T^, lr9,°°^S, GAMEKEEPERS' COTTAGES, ETC. 

Uoyal 4u>, 13 Flutes {i><xu. ut It. la.), half morocco, 14«. Ig41i 

DENERS' HOUSES, etc. IN THE ITALIAN ATYLE.. 12 Plates, royal 4lo fpLb, at 
1^ Is.], halTmorocco, 14s. Iggv 

ILLUMINATED BOOK OF CHRISTMAS CAROLS, squarosvo. 24 Bordtn Illuminated 
in Gold aiid Coloura, and 4 beautiful Miniatures, riclily Oruameated BinUiiig (pub. at U. 5».)„ 
los. 184S' 

ILLUMINATED BOOK OF NEEDLEWORK, By Mrs. Owen, with a Hist iry of Needle- 
work, bv the Co ifNTEHS of Wilton, Coloured Plates, poat 8vo (pub. at 18s. ), gilt cf jth, Qa. 1847 

ILLUMINATED CALENDAR FOR 1850. Copied from a celehrated Misaal known as the 
•* Hours " of the Duke of Anjou, imperial 8vo, 3G exquisite Miniatures and Burdera, in gold and 
colours. Ornamented Binding (pub. at li^. 2s.), lbs. 

ILLUSTRATED FLY-FISHER'S TEXT BOOK. A Complete GvJde to the Science of Troutli 
and Salmon Fishing. By Theophilds Soinn, Gent. (Ed. Chitty, BARRjsiBti). Withk 
23 hcHutiful Engrawiugs on Steel, alter Paintings by Cooper, Newtom, Fielding, Lee, and 
others, tivo (pub. at \l. U<. Gil.), cloth, gilt, lus. 6a. 1S45 

ITALIAN SCHOOL CF DESIGN. Consisting of IDO Plates, chiefly engraved by Bahto- 
LOzzi, after the original Pictures und Drawings of GuERCiNO, Michael Anqelo, Domeni^ 
ciii-No, Annibale, Ludovico, and Agostiko C>racci, Pietro da Cohtona, Carlo Ma- 
RATTi, iind others, in the Collection of Her Majesty. Imperial 4to (pub. at lOw 10a.}, half mo-, 
rocco, gilt edges, 3^. 3a. 1843 

JAMES' (G P. R.) BOOK OF THE PASSIONS, royal 8vo, inustraled with 16 splendid 
Line EngraviDKS, after drawings by Ehivard Courbould Stephanoff Ciiaj.on, Kennt 
Meadows, and Jenkins; engraved under the superintendence of Charles Heath. New 
and improved edition (just published), elegant in gilt cloth, gilt edges (pub. at 1(. lis. 6d.)^ 


impl. avc. 21 beautimi Portraits (pub. at 21. 5s.), cloth, 1^ la. 1838 

JOHNSON'S SPORTSMAN'S CYCLOPEDIA of the Science and Practice of the Field, the 
Turf, and the Sod, or operations of the Chase, the Course, and the Stream, in one very thick 
vol. 8vo, illustrated with upwards of 50 Steel Engravings, alter Cooper, Ward, HAKCOCxi and 
others (pub. at 1/. lis. fit/.), cloth, Iss. 


Introduction and Text. Imperial folio. First Series, containing -iO beautiful and highly inte- 
resting Views of Ecclesiastical Buildings in Italy, several of which are expensively illuminated 
in gold and colours, half- hound morocco, 5^. as. 1843 

I Second and Concluding Series, containing 41 beautiflil and highly interesting Views of Eccle- 

siastical Buildings in Italy, arranged in Chronological Order; with Descriptive Letter-pretis. 
Imperial folio, half-hound morocco, 5/. 5s. 1841 

irate the Normana in Sicily. Imperial folio, ao large Engravinsrs, consisting of Ficturesqua 
Views, Architectural Remains, Interiors aLd Exteriors of Buildings, with Descriptive Letter- 

' press. Coloured like Drawings, half-bound morucco, 8/. 8s, i846 

But very few copies are now first executed in this expeaalve manner. 

KNIGHT'S PICTORIAL LONDON. 6 vols, bound in 3 thick handsome vols, imperial 870^, 
illustrated by C50 Wood Engravings (pub. at 3^ 3s.), cloth, gilt. It, 18a. 1811-ii 


HISTORICAL ILLUSTRATIONS of the most Interesting and Curious Architectural 
Monuments of the City and Suburbs of London and Weatminster, e.g., MonaBteries, Churches, 
Charitable Foundations, Palaces, Halls, Courts, Processions, Places of early Amusements, 
Tlieatres, and Old Houses. 2 vols, imperial 4to, containing 207 Copper-plate Engravings, with 
Historical and Descriptive Letter-press (pub. at 261. 5a.}, half-bound morocco, it. .la. 1819-25 


LANDSCAPE ARCHITECTURE. New Edition, 250 Wood Cuts, Portrait, thicli 8vo, clotli 
lettered (pub. at U. lOs.), 15a. 

LYSON'S ENVIRONS OF LONDON; being an HlBtorical Account of the Towns, Villagea 
and Hamlets in the Counties of Surrey, Kent, Essex, Herts, and Middlesex, 5 vols. 4to, Plate* 
(pub. at 10^ lOa.], cloth, 2l. lUa. 

) The same, large paper, 5 vols, royal 4to (pub, at 15L 15a.), cJoth, SL 3». 


COLUMBUS, to the year 1846, comprising its History and Statistics, 2 remarkablf thick 
volumes, imperial **o. cloth lettered (pub. at 4/. 14a. Gd.), ii. 11a. 6c/, 1847 

WARTIN'S CIVIL COSTUME OF ENGLAND, from thrConquestto the Piesent Perww*. 

fromTauestrv, MSS. Sio litoyal «t« 61 Platss, >>»%uti^jlljr JUuminated in Gold and Colouri, 
■ eleth, «]lt. 2i. 12*. 6d. »»« 



'a CrKicAl Inquiry into Ancient Armour as it exiated in Europe, but particularly in Enfflaid^ 
from the Nonuun Con(|iit:!it to the Reign of diaries II, with a Glossary, etc. by SiK Sahubu 
HviH Mevhkk, LL.I)., F.&.A.,etc., new and greatly Improved Edition, lorrected and «! . 
)aru«d ttir<iiitfh<iui hy the Author himiielf, with the assistance of Literary and Aiitlqliariub 
FriendH (Albkkt Way, etc.). 3 vols, imperial 4to, inusirated by more than 100 PlateiSrylL 
ipleiiiliilly Illuminated, mostly in gold and silver, exhihiting some of the gnesi Specbne^ tu 
cxltitiiiK ill ISiipUiid; also a new Plate of the Tournament of Locks and Keys (pub. at 21£.)^ 
liair-bouiKl morocco, Rilt edges, ifl^ lOa. 134t n^' 

Sir Walter Scoxt justly describes thia collection aa "thb im comparable AKjiorET." |^ 
^Ediiilmrvh Heotew. , 


li>iii iif Goiidrich Court, 15U Engravings by Jos. Skblton* 2 vols, folio (pub. at llj. 11«,}, ^ 
half morncco, tup edgesgtlt, 4^. 14>. fief. \ u 



Varies, Statues, Bustii, Bas-fteliefs, and other Kemains of Grecian Art. Q2 larffe and beautifnl' 

EfigrDviiKrh. mostly coloured, With Letter-press Descriptions, imperial 4to (pub. at fi^ 9i.), W 

half morocco, «. Us. erf. 1821 ^ 


Tazz:ia. Tombs, Mausoleums, Sepulchral Chambers, Cinerary Urns, SarcophaRi, Cippi; and" rj 
bther t>rnaments, 1'70 IMates, Several of which are coloured, witb Letter-press, by HoF£,small'' ": 
8vo (|iub. at3/. 3s.), cloth, U. 5<. ISU ^ 

iSflU-Rpmy'S ARABIAN AIMTIQUITIES of SPAIN; represenUng, In loo very hlghlyi'^ 
finitilieil line EiiKravin^it, by Le Keux, Fivdbn, Lakdkeea, G. Cooke, Sec, the moslJ 
reniiirkable Remains of the Architecture, Sculptare, Palntin|rs, and Mosaics of the Spanlsbjiji^ 
^iiiibN nt)W existins in the Peninsula, including the magnificent Palace of Altiamhra; th(| p^ 
'tei>lebnttei) MnsqUe and Bridge at Cordova; the Royal Villa of Generaliffej and the Caaade^ ;t 
CaVbon : accompanied by Lutter-press Descriptions, in 1 vol. atlas folio, orijiinal and brilliant 
ifriprCKiJioiiii of thre Plates <p'ub. at 42^), half morocco, \2L Via. 18U jtKl 

Vat'iiinb. Sectliins, and Views of the; with \ts History aim Description, and an Introductory 
DiNi-ourpe on GOTHI C ARCHITECTL RE, imperial folio, 27 fine Copper Plates, engraved fS 
by Ln w av ( puh. at 6Z. Gs. ), half morocco, 2U Ss. ITU '^'^ 

'NA^POLEON GAULEfiY; Or UluBtratlons of the Life and Times ofthe Emperor, with 99,fi^ 
'Etcliin^<j an Steel by REVEiL,and other eminent Artists, in one thick volume post -Svo. (pub.'^' 
at U. U.j, gill cloth, gilt edges, IOj. 6(f. ^^mn 


OF THE BKITI'SH EMPIRE; with an Account ol the Medals, Crosses, and Clasps which '* 
have been conlerred for Naval and Military Services; together with a History of the Order of' 

"tlie Guelphs of "Hanover. 4 vols. Imperial 4to, splendidly printed and illustrated by numeroui vtQ 
fine Wdoili-uts of Badges, Crosses, Collars, Stars, Medals, Ribbands, Clasps, etc. and man; t.' 
large I'laleN, Illuminated in gold and colours, including full-length Portraits of Q,ueen Vic. ^ 

'tofia, Prince •Albert, llie King of Hanover, and the Dukes of Cambridge and Sussex. (Pnb.1 ■" 
at )4/. 14s.), cloth, with morncco backs, 5^. 15s. 6d. *«* Comptete to \UT -^ 

■ — t^ " - the same, with tlie Plates richly coloured but not Illuminated, and without the' ,, 

extra portraits, 4 vols, royal 4to. cloth, 8/. 10«. 6d. ' , 

"Sir Harris N1coIh» has produced the first comprehensive History ofthe British Orders of ,. 
Kniiililhood: and it is one (\f Ihe most elaborately prepared anti rpl^iididty prtvttd umrkt that art t_, 
issued Jyinn ike urfst,. Tlie Author uppeurs to us to have neglected nq sources of infDrmatiaD|| 
and to have exnausted them, as far as regards the general scope and purpose of the inquiigr, gjjff 
The GraphiliftI Mltistratinns are such as become a wot^ of this character upon such a suqje^ (.•-, 
at, ofcourse, a lavish coat. The resources of the recently revived art of wood-engraving ha« n. 
been combined with the new art of jirinting In colours, so as to produce u rich effect, almost 
4'ivallinL' ihai of ilicmonastii'illuminations. Surh a book vi sure qf a plncr b\ evrry great Miror^yUM 
It contains mntter calculated to Interest extensive classes of readers, and we hope by ou gj 
specimen to excite their curiosity." — Quarterly Review. 


PlaiCH hy Ldwry, new edition, revised by Jos. Gwiit, Esq., one volume, royal 6vo, B"'< 

For cl.isslcal Architecture, the text book of the Profession, the most useftj Guide to the™ 
'Student,' and the liest Compendium for the Amateur. An eminent Architccl has declared 
It to be "not only the most useful book of the kind ever published, but absolutely lQdlspeii«[|]J|^ 
sable to the Student." f^ 


THli GREAT, Including a complete History of the Seven Years' War. By FranxiA I^ 
Kudi.ita. Illustrated by Adulvh Mehzbl. Aoyal Svo, with above 500 Woodcuts (pub,^ k 
II. 8«.), cloth gilt, Vis. im iL 

PICTORIAL laALt-ERY OF PTACE-HORSES. Containing Portraits of all the Wtanlniil''* 
Horses ofthe Derby, Oaku, and St. Leger Stakes during the last Thirteen Yeiiri., and a His- II! 
tory of the prlncipiil Operations of the Turf. By Wildra-ke (v>too, Tjitlersall, Esq.). nny«l| "" 
'8vo, containing Qi* heautirul Engravings Of Horses, after Pictures by Cohi-er, HgrringV ^ 
Hancock, AlKen.'jxo. Also full-length characteristic Portraits of ce'lebrated lirlngSporU* ^ 
>min ("Cracks ol the Dav"). by Sxykouk (p^. at 21, 2a.), scarlet cloth, gilt, U,iM 



Sartk'ulur DesiTiutioQB of Richmond, Windsor, and Hamoton Court. By John Pishba 
IUB.RAY. IllustrAied V upwards of lOO veiy liiKhly-flnished Wood Engravings hy ORaijr 
Smith, Brakston, Lardells, Livton, and other eminent artiBtv; to which are added 
sev^r^J heautirui Copper and Steel Plate En^ravin^s hy Cooka aud others. Oue large baad- 
sonie volume, royal Svo (pub. at 11, 5a.', gilt cloth, \ut. Gd. 1845 

The most he«rT*ff'jl volume of Topographical Lignographa ever produced. 

i-arm>^ Banditti, Sic, 27 Platea, imperijil 4to, half-hound morocco, la». ifotxe, IHO 

ing, w^ 


(pub. . 


Betting forth the Origin, History, and Signification of inS^i^^JEmbleins l)evfe« and Svm 
bolical Coloura peculiar to ChriBtian bes.gns of U.e MldSt AgaS^*' I ?uVraurbrnlar% 
Pl^=s, spleudidly printed in gold and colours. Royal 4to, lialfmorocco extra, top edges K 

PUGIN'S ORNAMENTAL TIMBER GABLES, selected from Ancient Examples in 
England and Normandy. Royal 4to, 30 Platen, cloth, II. Is. ^ ISsq 

**^^L1'^ EXAMPLES OF GOTHIC ARCHITECTURE, selected from Ancient 
Edifices in Enijlatid ; consisting of Plans, Elevations, Sections, and Parts at large, with Uisto- 
ncal and Descriptive letter-press, illustrated by 225 Engravings by La Ksiix. 3 vols. 4t» 
(pub. at \2L 12».), cloth, n. 17». Gd, <» » j ^^ 

aUGlN'S GOTHIC ORN AM ENTS. 90 fine Plates, drawn on Stone by J. D. Haedikg and 

others. Royal 4to, half morocco, 3L 3*. 1844 

•UGINS NEW WORK ON FLORIATED ORNAMENT, with so plates, aplendidlr 
printed in Gold and Colours, royal 4to, elegantly bound in ciotli, with rich gold omanteatsi 

RADCLIFFE'S NOBLE SCIENCE OF FOX-HUNTING, for the use of Sportsmen, royal 
8vo., nearly 40 beautiful Wood Cuts of Hunting, Hounds, ftc (pub. at U. it,), cloth gilt, 
10s. 6d. 1B39 


Aoyal 4to., containing IG Plates, Engraved by Mosbs, stiff covers. 7<. Gd. 

ing 8 Plates. Engraved by Moses, stitT covers, ia. QiL 

REYNOLDS' (SIR JOSHUA^ GRAPHIC WORKS. 300 beautiftil Engravings (eom. 
prising nearly 4(io subjects) after this delightftil {isiiiter, engraved on Steel by S. W. Reyaoldi. 
3 vols., folio (pub. at 3Sl.], half bound morocco, gilt edges, 12^ 12«. 

REYNOLDS' (SIR JOSHUA) LITERARY WORKS. Comprising his Discourses, 
delivered at the Royal Academy, on the Theory and I^ractice of Fainting; his Journey t* 
.landers and Holland, with Criticisms on Pictures; Du Presnoy's Art of Painting, with Note^ 
o o which is prefixed, a Memoir of the Author, with Remarks illustrative of his Principles and 
biactice, by Bebchet. Mew Edition. 2 vols. fcap. Svo, with Portrait (pub. ai ISs.l, gilt 
-..oth, int. 1846 

"His admirable Diaconrsea contain such a body ofjuat criticism, clothed In such perspicuous^ 
elegant, and nervous language, that It la no exaggerated oenegyrfc to assert, that tliey will last 
as long as the English tongue, and contribute, not less tlian the productions of fala pencil, to 
render his name immortal." — Norlhcote. 

ROBINSON'S RURAL ARCHITECTURE; being a Series of Designs for Ornamental 
Cottages, in 95 Plat«i, with Estimates. Fourth, greatly improved. Edition. Royal 4to [pub. 
at il. 4jt. ) , lialf morocco, 21. o*. 


56 Plates by Habdino and Alloic. Royal 4to, halfmorocco, 21. 2». 
ROBINSON'S ORNAMENTAL VILLAS, 9G Platea (pub. at 4f.4i.), half morocco, 2ttfc 
ROBINSON'S FARM BUILDINGS. 56 Plates (puh. at 2i. 2*.), halfmorocco, U. lUM, 

ROBINSON'S LODGES AND PARK ENTRANCES. 48 Plates (pob. at 2i. a«.J, bktf 

morocco, U. lis. 6d, 
ROBINSON'S VILLAGE ARCHITECTURE. Fourth Edition, with additional Plat*. *i 

Plates (pub at U. 16j.), half bound nnlform, M.*a. 

tar. Hous."!^ JOHX Beittos, Imperial folio, so tt». eogravlnn, b, L. ^01 (pub.. 
\6t.'\Qt. ) half morocco, gilt edge., 31. 13.. 6tL »■« 

aOYAI_ VICTORIA GALLERY, coinprislmr 33 beiuttfui EngraTinm, .fter ptctutes « 
BUCKINGHAM PALACE, partiouarly BeJbhakdt, the Ostades, *Ei«MS, OERiai. 
dJ^^ BoiK cVvp, RiTKOLDrTiliAS, aid RUBEKS, e-gravod by Geeatbach 8. W 
Ki"ioLD5" FkeIbubt, Borsei, Scj with letlet-picsa by U«iiklj, toj.1 a, (pub. •> 
4/. 4..), balf lEDrocco, U. lU. fid. 


DLPLNDENCIKS. Three vola., 4to., IS'J phites, (puh. at fiZ. tis.) cloth, 4/. 4-. imo 

wLth leather ^nck, imiierial Svu, ]l, is. 

SHAW AND BRIOGENS' DESIGNS FOR FURN ITURE, with Candelahw *"d intennr 

Decoration, 6" PUtes, royaUto, (piih. at3i. a».), Iialf-bound, uncut, U. H^ <«^- 18^6 

Tbe same, large paper, impl. 4to, the Platea coloured (yub. at 6'- o'-J« tif'-'>d., uncut, 3/. 3«, 

SHAW'S LUTON CHAPEL, its Architecture and Ornaments, illustrafjd in a series of 20 
highly finished Line Engravings, Imperial foliu [pub. at 3^. 3j.)i balfmoi ceo, uncui, 1/. IGj. 


SILVESTRE'S UNIVERSAL PALEOGRAPHY, or Fac-similes of the wrllinps of every 
affe, taken from the most authentic Missals and otlier interesting Ai'inuscripts existing In ihe 
Libraries of France, Italy, Gcnnany, and England. By M. iiilvestre, containing upwards ot 
300 large and most "oeautifully executed fac-similes, on Copper and Stone, most richly iliumi- 
nated in the finest stylo of art, 2 vols, atlas folio, h^lf morocco extra, gilt edges, 311. Ids. 

Tbe Hiatorical and Descriptive Letter-press by Ch amp. il lion, Figeac, and Cham- 

pollion, j'.ia. With additions and corrections by Sir Frederick Madden. 2 vols, royal 8vo, 

cloth, 11. IG«. 1S50 

■ " ■ tlie same, 2 vols, royal 8to, hf. raor. gilt edges (uniform with the folio work), 21. 8a. 

Fac-simili!S of intcicsting Autograplis, Scenes of remarkihle Historical Events and interesting 
Localities, Engravinirs of Old Houses, Illuminated and Missal Ornamenis, Antiquities, &c. 

' &c. , contniiiing lott Plates, some illuminated, with occasional Letter-press. Id 1 volume 4to, 
balf morocco, uncut, reduced to 3/. IgjQ 

the 7th to the IGth Century, with Historical Illustrations, folio, with 62 coloured plates illu- 
minated with gold and silver, and highly finished (pub. at 10^ lu«.) ball bound, morocco, 
extra, gilt edges, 3^ 13>, Gd. 

SPORTSMAN'S REPOSITORY; comprising a Series of highly finished Line Engraving* 
representing the Horse and the DO(f, in all tlieir varieties, by the celebrated engraver Joiis 
Scott, from original paintincjs hy Reinagle, Gilpin, Stuhbs, Cooper, and Landseer, accom- 
panied by a com]irehensive Gescriptioi by the Author of the "British Field Spurts," 4to, with 
37 large Copper Plates, and numerous Wood Cut? by Burnett and others (pub. at2Z. 12j. Gd.), 
cloth gilt, li. ij. 

8vo., with 2KG engravings (pub. at JL lOj.), half morocco, 2/. 12. 6d. 

finished Etchings, all of which are more nr less tinted, and some of them highly iSluminateiliu 
gold and colours, witli Historical Descriptions and Introduction, by Kempe. Folio (pub. at 
19/.), half morocco, 8/. Si. 

STRUTT'S SYLVA BRITANNICA ET S'^OTICA; or, Portraits of Forest Trees, distin- 
guished ior their Antiquity, Maifuitnde, nr Beauty, comprisinif 50 very large and highly-finished 
painters' Etchings, imperial folio ( pub. at 01. ds, ] , halt' morocco extra, gilt edges, il. Hit. 


the EstJibllshment of tbe Saxons in Britain to the present time; with an liistorical anil 
Critical Int|uiry into every branch of Costume. New and greatly improved Edilion, with Cri- 
ti'-al and Explanatory Notes, by J. R. Planche', Esi., F.S.A. 2 vols, royal ito, ):);( Plates, 
cloih, il. 4^. Thf Plates, coloured, 7t. 7s. The Plates splendidly illuminated in gold, siUcr, 
and opaque colours, in the ^lissal style, 2O1. i^fj 

Coiitiiiniiig the most authentic Kepresentations of all the English Monarcbs from Edward the 
Confessor to Henry the Eizlilh ; together with many of the Great Personages that were emi- 
nent under their several Iteigns. New and greatly improved Edition, by J. 11, Planciie' 
Es(2,, F.S.A. Reyal -Ito, 72 Plates, cloth, 21. Ss. The Plates coloured, il. it. i>plendid].v 
' illuminated, uniform with the Dresses, 12^ 12s. 184*2 

STUBBS' ANATOMY OF THE HORSE, 21 fine large Coppor-plate Engravings. Impe- 
rial folio (pub. .It 4i. 4n ), hoards, leather back, U. lis. Qd, 

The original edition of this fine old woik, which is iudlBpenaable to artists. It has long been 
considered rare. 

TATTERSALL'S SPORTING ARCHITECTURE, comprising the Stud Far-n. tbe .suil 
the St,ible, the Kennel, Race Studs, &c. with 43 beautiful steel and wood illuattariwts aevera! 
After IlAHuncK, cloth gilt (])ub. at 1/. lU, Qd.), u, is. j^^o 


8V0. Woodcuts (pill), at 1/. Is.), clotli, Tt. Gd. 'jj|| ^ 

*'ThB best view of the state of modern art."— United Statea' Gazette, ' 


ANA). lij- Lieut. Colonel J. ToD, impcnnl «o, embellished with above -■sVx.remelv beanu' 
llll Itae Ensravmgs by FlSDiit, and capital laree folding map (IL u.. M.) cloth, aS lS» 


TURNER AND GIRTINS RIVER SCENERY; loUo, 20 beauUfuI ercravings on tteeL 
iUtitr the drawinifs of J. M. W. Turser, brUiiiiiit impressions, :□ a porttolio, with morocca 
bai.-k (pull, at :>t. 54.;, reduced to U. Us. 6d. 

— the same, «Uli thick glazed paper beiween the plates, half bound morocco, «iU 

ed^cs ( put), at Ql. Gs.), reduced to 21. 2s. 

WALKER'S ANALYSIS OF BEAUTY IN WOMAN. Preceded by a critical Vfew of tht 
■reiieral Hypoiheses respecting Heauty, by Lednardo ha Vixri, Mbngs, Wlvckelmasn, 
HuitK, lIOGAitTH, BuKKK, KsiGMT, AL!So.v, aiid Others. New Edition, royal 8vo, illus- 
trated iiy 22 beautiful Plates, after drawings from life, by H. Hqwakd, by Gauci and Lane 
(pub. at 2^ 2<.), giitclotli, U.U. I84g 


Account of tlje Principal ArtisUs, ami Catalogue of Engravers, who have been honi or rcdided 
in EnL;lani', with Notes by Dai.laway; New Edition, Revised and Enlargeii, by Ralph 
"WoRNUM, Esq., compifcte in 3 vols. 8vo, with nujnerouB heautiflU portraits and plates, 'il. 2*. 

WATTS'S t^SALMS ANO HYMNS, Ili ustkated Edition, complete, with induxes of 
"Subjects," " First Lines," and a Table of Script iires, 8vo, printed in a very large and beauti- 
ful type,r(;mliellished with 24 beautiful Wood Cv*s by ?tartiu, Westtall, and others (pub. at 
1/. li.), gilt clotb, 7<. 5d. 

WHISTON'S JOSEPHUS, ILLUSTRATED EDITION, complete: containing both tli« 
Anti()uities aiid the Wars of the Jews. 2 vols. Sva, handsomely printed, embcllihlted with b2 
beautiful Wood Engravings, by various Artists (pub. at U. 4s.), cloth bds., elegantly gilt, Ua. 


most iippri'ved methods oTi^itating every kind of fancy Woud and Marble, in Oil or Distemper 
Colour, Designs for ncoratiiig Apartments, and the Art of Staining and Painting on Qlasi, 
SZc, with Examples fr mi Ancient Windows, with the Supplement, 4to, illustrated with 104 
plates, of which 44 are coloured, (pub. a.l2l. Ha.) cloth, W. lOi. 

WHITTOCK'S MINIATURE PAINTER'S MANUAL. Foolscap Svo., 7 coloured plates, 
and nuuiernus woodcuts (pub. at 5s.) cloth, 3s. 

WIGHTWtCK'S PALACE OF ARCHITECTURE, a Romance of Artand History. Impt- 
rial 8V0, with :ill Illustrations, Steel Plates, and Woodcuts (pub. at 21. t2i. Gd.)^ cioth. It. U. 


WtLD'S ARCHITECTURAL GRANDEUR of Belgium. Germany, and France, 24 fine 
Plates by Le Keux, &c. Imperial 4to (pub. at W. 18>.), half morocco, 11. ii. 1837 

WILD'S FOREIGN CATHEDRALS, 12 Plalea, coloured and mounted like Drawings, In a 
handitome porthilio (puh, at 13^. 124.), imperial folio, bi, St. 

WILLIAMS' VIEWS IN GREECE, H beautiful Line Ensrravings by, Hoksburgh, 
and others. 2 vols, imperial 8vo (pub. at 6^. 61.). half bound mor. extr:i, gilt edges, 21. I2>. Gd. 



Rkiti-hie. new edition, edited by E. Jesse, Esq., illustrated with upwards of 50 beautiful 
Engravings on Steel and Wood, royal Bvo., gilt cloth, U* 


UALHKC. 2 vols, in 1, imperial folio, onntaining 110 fine Copper-plate Engravings, some 
very large and folding (pub. at 71. 7s.), half morocco, uncut, 31. 13f. Gd. 1827 

jaaturnl i^istorg, Agriculture, ?rc. 

ANDREWS' FIGURES OF HEATHS, with Scientific Descriptions, 6 vols, royal Bvo, 
with 30(1 beautifully coloured Plates (pub. at 15/.), cloth, gilt, 71. 10«. 1845 

MEniCTNAL PLANTS OF GREAl' BRITAIN. 2 vols. 8vo, illustrated by upwards of 208 
Colo'ired Figures of Plants { pub. at 3t. 3i. ), cloth, 1/. IC*. 1845 


in which the characters of eact. Genus are displaved in the most elaborate manner, in a series 
of magniDed Dissections and Figures, highly finished in Colours. Imp. 8vo, Plates, 6/. 1838-43 

Accour.t of the Plants collected hy Messrs. Lay and Collie, and other Officers of thft 
Expedition, during the Voyage to the Pacific and Behring's StraSPs. By Sih William 
Jacksox Hooker, and G. A. W. Arsott, Esq., illustrated by 100 Plates, beautiliilly en- 
graved, complete in 10 parts, 4to (pub. at 71. lo«.), 5/. 1831-41 

Collections and Notes of Caotain BEEniHY and the Scieniific Gentlemen who accompanied 
the Expedition. The Mammalia, bv Dr. lUrHARHSOs; Ornithology, by N. A. Viroes, Esq., 
Fishes, bv G. T. Lay, Ekq., and F.. T. Bknvett, Esq.; Crustacea, by Richakh Oweh; 
Esq.: Reptiles, bv Johs Edward Gray, Esq.: Sb?lls, by W. Sowerby, Esft.; and Geology, 
hy the Rev. Dr. BVcklj^ \d. 4tc, illustrated b.+ 47 Plates, containing many hundred Figure!, 
Veautifi'illvco'curcd by Sowerby (pub. alil. 5».l. dnih, 3i. 13a. Gd. 1U9 



'l<lKUreH, the size of Life, of the Birds, both Male and Female, tn tlieir most Natural Attitudes: 
their Nests aiid Epffs, Food, Favourite Plants, Shrubs, Trees, &c. &c. New Edition, revised 
And very conRiileraoly augmented. 2 vols, in 1, medium 4to, containing 8D beautifully colouied j 
filates (pub. at HI. Ba.), half bound morocco, gilt backs, gilt edges, 31, 3«. 1645 

coloured plates of dowers and groups (pub. at 4/. lOs.}, cloth, 1^. Us. 184B 


OF GKEAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND; with Figures, Descriptiona, and Localities of all 
the Species. Royal Bvo, containing (in 27 larsc PlatuM, .130 Figures of ail the linown British 
Speci<-8, tn iheir full size, accurately drawn from Nature (pub, at lit.), cloth, lOg. Qd. 1845 

CURTISS FLORA LONDINENSIS; Revised and Improved by Georgb Graves, ex- 
tended and continued by Sir W, J^ukkok Hookkr; comprising the Uistnry of Flaiits tndi- 
genous to Great Brittiin, with Indexes; the Drawmgs made by Syden'ha.m, Edwards, and 
LiNDi.EY. a vols, royal folio (or luit parts), containing 1)47 Plates, exhibiting the full ndtural 
size of each Plant, with magnified DissiiClions of the Parts of t^ructificattcn, &c., ail beauti- 
fully colnured (pub. at B71. 4«. in parts], lialf bound morocco, top edges gill, 30^. 1S3S 

fiPF.ClES OF PARASITE INSECTS (^piibllshed under the |lalrona^'e of the British Aasooia- 
tion), 8vn, numerous beautifuii} cuJiiured plate.i of Lice, containing several hundred magnified , 
figures, cintb, I ( ll/> M. 1842 


numerous woodcuts (pub. at 14^. 8a.), ckttli, II. lis. (iu. 1831-1838 

DON'S HORTUS CANTABRIGlENSIS; thirteenth Edition, 8vo (pub. at l^. 4i.}, cloth, 12i. 


j. O. Wgstwood, Esi|., F.L.S., 4ti), with S8 iii.ites, containing upwards of 12U exquisitely 
coloured figures (pub. at 6^ (>«.), cl»th, :dlt, reduced to 21. 2». lis^ 

J. O. WmsTwonn. Esg., F.L.S., 4to, with 30 plates, containing upwards of 12(J extjuisitely 
coloured figures (puh. at 6^ 6t.), cloth, gilt, 21. 5a. 

" Donovaii'tt workR on the In.sectb of India and China are splendidly illustrated and ex- 
tremely useful."— Ao(Kr'i/w(. 

"The entomological plates of our countryman Donovan, are highly coloured, elegant, and 
useful, especially those in his ijuarto volumes ( Insects of India and China), where a 
great number of species are delineated for the first time." — Surainaon. 

i— Blnls, in vols.- Shells, 5 vols.— Fishes, ,"> vols.— ftuadrupeds, 3 vols.— together 39 vols. 8vo. 
containing ll'lFt beautifully coloured plates (puh. at G6/. g>.), boards, 2'M. 17*. The same set cf 
89 vols, hound in 21 (nub. at 7^/. Itu.), half green morocco extra, gilt edges, gilt bacbs, 30^. 
Any of the classes may oe had separately. 

Gener^il.New Edition, Enlarged, thick 8vo., with 70 wood engravings (pub. at ISi.), cloth, 
S3. Rd. 1643 


- 'Upwards (jf fiOO exiitic IiisecU, of the East and West Indies, China, New Holland, North and 

S(»utb America, Germany, &c. By J. O. We.stwodv, E.s«., F.L.S. Secretary ot the Eiitomo- 

loirical Snciety, Stc. 3 vols, 4tn, l."iO Plates, most hhaulifuUy containing above 600 

figures of Insects (originally puh. at 15^ Ija.], half bound morocco, 61. ICa. Gd. 183? 

EVELYN'S SYLVA AND TERRA. A Discourse of Fnrest Trees, and the Propagation of 
Tlintier, a Philosophical Diacnurse ofthe Earth, with Life ofthe Aaibor, and Notes by Dr. A. 
Hunter, 2 vols, royal 4to. Fillh Unproved Eitition, with 46 Plates (p ih. 9t 51. 5*.), cloth, 22. 



Idd plates, mostly coloured, ;i vids. royal 4to. (puh. at iH.), cloth, U. ba. 1838-43 

GREVILLE'S CRYPTOGAMIC FLORA, cnnipvlsing the Principal Species found in Great 
Britain, inclusive of all the New Species recciiHy discovered in Scotland. 6 vols, royal 8vo, 
300 beautifully colmireil Plates (pub. at \6t. Ifw.), half morocco, 8/. 8*. 1B23-8 

1'hls, though a complete Work In Itsttlf, forms an almost indispensable Supplement tu the 
thlrtv-slx volumes of Sowerby's EnK!<fih Botany, which does not comprehend Cryptogamous 
Plants. It Is one of the must scientific and best executed vorka on Indigenous Rotauy eve: 
produced In this country. 

HARDWICKE AND GRAY'S INDIAN ZOOLOGY. Twenty parts, fbrming iwo voln., 
royal folio, 2U3 coloured platea (pub. at 3W.), sewed, 121. Vta.^ or half moroccu, gilt edges, 
Ul. Uf. 


Nalural Hl«tor>-, together with the Plants on which they feed; Now and groatlv Improved 
Edltlnn, by J. O. VrBsTWOon, Kstl., F.L.S. , ftc, In 1 vol. am. folio, with 44 plates, coiHainiiiB 
ibove 41111 ilguics of Moths, Bulterllies, Cntorplllars.ftc, and the Plants on which they feed, 
•Ktiulsltely cttloureu nUer tVe original diawings, half-bound morocco, 4/. 4«. 1840 

Thla extrcmftly bwutlfu! work Is the only one which contains our Kngllah Moths and Butter- 
BiM ofthe full natural al», In all their channea of Caterpillar, Chrj-aalia, &c., witti tbe pluV 
•n which thty f«e^ 



witii DESC'RIPTIONS, many of whicli have been altogether uniiutired by Buuniite, m hav« 

not been correctly Rzured. 2 vols, folio, with 240 beautifully coloured Platen (pub. at 251. 4x.), 

half morocco. eiltedRes, 121. 12a. 1820-31 

The irraudeBt and most valuable of the lusny scientific Woibs produced bySlr'^'llDam Hooser. 

lOOKER'S EXOTIC FLORA, containing Figurea and DescriptloDS of Rttre, or otherwtaft' 
interesting Exotic Plants, especially of 8uch as are deserving of being cultivated in our Gar- 
dens. 3 vols. Imperial 8vo, containing 232 large and beautifully coloured Piates (pub. at 15^), 
cloth, 6/. e». 1823-1827 , 

This is the most superb and attractive of all Dr. Hooker's valuable works, 
•'The ' Exotic Flora,' by Dr. Hooker, is like that of all the Botanical puhllcatlona of the in- 
defatigable author, excellent; and it assumes an ai>pearance of finish and perfection to 
which neither the Botanical Magazine nor Register can externally lay claim."— iout/on. 

^OOKER'S JOURNAL OF BOTANY; containing Figures and Descriptions of siich Plants 
&3 recommend themselves by their novelty, rarity, or history, or by the uses to which they are 
applitd 111 the Arts, in irfediciiie, and in Domestic Economy; together vrlih occiislona*. 
Botanical Notices and Informntion, and occasional Portraits aiid Memoirs of eminent 
Botanists. 4 vols. 8vo, numerous plates, some coloured (pub. at 31.), cloth, li. 1H:H-42 

HOOKER'S BOTANICAL MISCELLANY; cnntahiing Figures and l)e.scrlptions of Plants 
which recinnmend themselves bv their novelty, rarity, or history, nr by tlie ui^cs to whit li they 
are applied in the Arts, in M-edlcine, and in Domestic Economy, toiiellier with ncciivioiial 
Botanical Notices and tnfbnnation, including many valuable Communications from ilihlin- 
euisheil Mcieniific Travellers. Complete in 3 thick vols. royaJ 8vo, with 1J3 piates, man> finely 
coloured (pub. at 5i. 5*.), gilt cloth, 2l. 12s. 6d. 1830-33-; 


NORTH AMERICA. Illustrated by 2-10 plates, complete In Twelve Parts, royaHto, (pub. 
at I2i. I2s. 1. it. The Twehe Parta complete, done up in 2 vols, royal Ho, extra cloth, 8/. 


New anil greatly improved Edition, containing also the latesl Disroveries and Iniiinwt-menta 
in evary deiiurtnient of the Apiarv, with a ilescription of the most approved Hiv|.;.s now in "se, 
thick 12mo. Portrait and numerous Woodcuts ( pub. at KM. Gd. ), cloth, gill, di. Gd. IKU 

JOHNSON'S GARDENER, complete in 12 vols, with numerous woodcuts, containing the 
Polaiu one vol — Cncuniber, one vol.— Graiie Vine, two vols.— Auricula and AsparHgu-s one 
vol -Pine Apple. '*« vols.— Strawberrv, niie vol.— Dalilia, one voi.- Peach, one vol.— Apple, 
two' vols.— together 12 vols. 12mo, woo'dcuts (pub. at U. llta.), cloth, 12f. 1B47 

— either of the volumes may he had separately (pub. al 2t, 6d.), at li, 

thick l2nio, cloth lettered (pub. at 10^. M.), At. A comprehensive and elesant volume. 1846 

LATHAM'S GENERAL HISTORY OF BIRDS Being the Natural History and Descrin- 
tion of all the Birds (aliove four tliousandl hitherto, known oi described by Naliiralist.s, «ith.' 
the Svnoinmes of preceding Writers; the second enlarged and improved Edition, compre- 
hending all the discoveries in Ornilhnloiv snlise(|r.ent to Hit- Inriner publication, and a General 
Index II vols in lu, ^to, with upwards o'f 2ilii coloured Plmes, lettered (pub. al 2GI. JU.), oloth» ■ 
tl 17a'. 6'i. n'inehrafer, lR21-2«. The same with the plates excinititely coloured like drawings, 
11 vols, in in, elegantly half hound, green morocco, gilt edges, 12i. 12*. 


" Third Edition with an Index of the Scientific Names and Synnnymes. by Mr. Gould and Mr. . 
Ettiin, folio. 27 plates, coloured (pub. at il. An. I, hf. bd. morocco, 21. 2i. 1838 

roval Hvn "ciin'fiining 1.".2 most beautilully coloured plates, chiffl.s by Mrs. Withkrs, Artiafe- 
tothe Horticultural Society (pub. at lOl. 10«.), half hound, murocQO ext^(^, gilt edces, bL &i. 

"This is an exiiuisilely heai'tiful work. Every plate U l|ke a Tilghly finished drawing, 
similar to those in Uie Horticultural Transactions.' 
LtNDLEY'S DIGITALIUM MONOGRAPHIA. Folio. 28 plates of the Foxglove {pub. st 

4^. 4ji.), Cloth, U. lU. 6rf, 
-^^ the same, the plates beautifully coloured (pub. at 6/. 6f.), cloth, 2t. 12|. 6(1, 


Tales and Anecdotes of more than Five Hundretl Animals, comprehending all he Quadruneu, 
iS Fishes, Reptiles, Insects, &t. or which a knoi^ledge U mdispensahle in polite «luo»:* 
SnWitl Indexes of Scientific ai 1 Popular Names, an Explaration ol Terms, and an Ap- 
tson.. «'»^f;;jf^,,^ Animals, Illustrated by upwards of .^Ou beautiful woodcuts ^.y Bkw.«- 
Whimpf.r, and others. New Edition, revised, enlarged, and corrected U> 

pendix of I 

la the 

presenistate ofZoological Knowledge. In one thick vol. post 8vo. gilt cloth, 7>. 6d. ISM 

Trees and SlirubVofBrUain; Native and Foreign, delineated and described wiih their propa- 
«ri!fn^?i'mrrrnanaireme^^ and uses. SecSnd improved Edition, 8 vols. 8vo, with abover 
«Op"ates ofSerSup^^daofasoo .oodci«.af trees and shrubs (pub. at M.], 5t. 5,. ISM 



or First Lessons in Geology, and in the Study of'lrfranic Remains; including Geological Ex" ■ 
cursion-i to tl.e Isle of Sheppev, lirigliton, Lewes, Tilpate Forest, Charnwoou Forest, FarrinK" 
don, Swlntlon, Calne, Bath, Bristol, Clirion, Matlock, Crich Hill, kc. By Gipeox Algeu- 
KON MaK'iei.l, Esq., LL.IJ., F.R.S., &c. Two ttii'Jk vols, foolscap 8vo, with coloured 
Plates, and several hundred beautiful Wooilcuts of Foosil Remains, cloth gilt, 1/. Is. 1S44 

MANTELLS WONDERS OF GEOLOGY, or a Familiar Exposition of Geological Plie- 
nomena. Sixth greatly enlarged and improved Edition. 2 voia. post Svo, coloured Plates, and 
upwards of 200 Woodcuts, gilt cloth, 18j. ISiS 


ami along the adjacent Coast of Dorsetshire. In 1 vol, post 8vu, with numerous beautifuIlT 
executed Woodcuts, and a Geological Map, clcth gilt, 12^. 1841 


TRIBES TF 'IHE BRmSH ISLANDS. 2 vols. 8vo. New Edition, the Plates beauli- 
fully coloured (pub. at II. 8s.), cloth giit, IGs. ISSS ' 

"This is, without any exception, the most truly charming work on Ornithology which has 
hitherto apjieared, from the days of WHloughhy downwards. Other authors descrihe, 
Miidic paints; other authors give the husk, Mudie the kernel. We most heartily concur ■ 
■with the a[>inion expressed of this work hy Leigh Hunt (a kindred spirit) in the first few 
Dumhers of his right pleasant London Journal. The deKcriptions of Bewick, Pennant, 
Lewin, Montagu, and even Wilson, will not for an instant stand comparison wilh the 
spirit-stirring einaniitions of Miidie's ' living pen,' as it lias been called. W> are not ac- ( 
quaiuted wilh any author who so felicitously unites beauty of style witi. strength and nerve ; 
of expression; he does not specify, but Ydir\U."—Waod'a OmHhologica{ Guide. 

RICHARDSON'S GEOLOGY FOR BEGINNERS, comprising a familiar Explanation of 
Geology and its associate ISciences, Mineralogy, Physical Geolo^v, Fossil Conchoiogy, Fossil 
Botany, ami Palajontoloirv, including Direrlions for forming Collections. &c. By G. F. 
.Richardson, F.G.S. (formerly with Dr. Mantell, now of the British Museum). Second 
Edition, considerably enlarged imil improved. One thick vol. post 8vo, illustrated by upwards 
of 260 Woodcuts (pub. at in.i. Gd.), cloth, 7fl. 6d. 1846 

SELBY'S COMPLETE BRITISH ORNITHOLOGY. A most magnificent work of the 

Figures of British Birds, coiitainit^ exact and faithful representations in their fuil natural tize, 

of all the known species found in Great Britain, 383 Figures in 228 beautifully coloured Plates. 

2 vols, elephant folio, elegantly half bound morocco (pub. at 105^.), gilt back and gilt edges, 

1 ZU. 10s, 1834 

"The grandest work on Ornithology published In this country, the same for British Birds 
that Audubon's is for the birds of America. Every figure, excepting in a very few instances of 
extremely large birds, ia of the full natural size, beautifully and accurately drawn, with all the 
■pirit of life."~OTOi(Ao/"(/Hrs Text Bnuk. 

"What a treasure, during a rainy forenoon in the country, is such a gloriously illuminated 
work as this of Mr. Seihy 1 It is, wiihoiii doubt, the most splendid of the kind ever published 
In Britain, and will stand'a comparison, without any eclipse of its lustre, with the most magni- 
ficent ornithological illustrations of tlie French school. Mr. Selby has long and deservedly 
ranked high as a scientific naturalist." — Blackmood'' » Magazine. 


Edition (pub. at U. Is.), boards, \2s. 1833 

SIBTHORP'S FLORA GR>ECA The most costly and magnificent Botanical work ever pub- 
lished. 10 vols, folio, with 1000 beautifully coloured Plates, half bound morocco, publishing 
by subscription, and the number strictly limited to those subscribed for (pub. at 252i. ), C3Z. 

Separate Prospectuses of this work are nov ready for delivery. Only forty copies of the 
original stock exist. No greater number of subscribers' names can therefore be received, 

SIBTHORP'S FLORit GR/EC/E PRODRONIUS. Sive Plantarum omnium Ennmeratio, 
quas In Provintiis aut Insulis Graci:e invenil JoH. Sidthorp: Characteres et Synonynia 
omnium cum Annotationihus Jac, Edy, Smith, Four parts, in 2 thick vols, Svo'ipul'i. at 
21. 211.), I4s. Lo}idini, 1K16 

SOWERBY'S MANUAL OF CONCHOLOGY. Containing a complete Introduction to the 
Science, illustrated by upwards of 650 V'igureB of ShellK, etchod on copper-plates, in which the 
most characteristic otamplcs are given of nil the Genera estsbi:K^cd jp to the present time, 
arranged in Lamarckian Order, accompanied hy co)dous Explanations ^ Observations respect- 
ing the Geographical or Gcoloicical distribution of each; Tabular Views of the Systems of 
Lamar(,'k and De B'flvnvillp; a Glossary of Technical Terms, Sec. Now Edition, considerably 
' enlarged and improved, with numerous Woodcuta in the text, now first added, 8vo, cloth, 18.i. 
The plates coloured, ututh, 1/. l&t. 1846 


OF ALr. THE HITHKR.TO UNFlGURRD SHELLS, comulete in :(U0 Goells, 8vo, compris- 
* ing nevcral tliuuiiand FUrures, In parts, all licaittifuLy coloured (pub. at 15/.), il. lOs. 1S4.'< 

SPRY'S bRITlSH COLEOPTERA DELINEATED; contafnlug Figures ana Descriptions 
of all the Genera of Bdtlsh Beetles, edited by SiiucKARn, 8vo, with D4 plates, comprising 688 
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PERCY TALES OF THE KINGS OF ENGLAND; Stories of Campn and Battle-Fields, 
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LIFE OF SIR ASTLEY COOPER, Intcrapersed with bis Sketches of Distinguished; Cha- 

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brou)rht down to the present time ; several highly finished Steel PortraiiB, had a frnntiiipiece, 
extra gilt cloth, 7s. Gd. Ib4; 


I 2 vols, in 1, 4i. 
ROBINSON CRUSOE, Including his further Adventures, with a Life of Defoe, &c. upward* 
of 60 tine Woodcuts, from designs by llAJiviiy and Whimper, ii. 

'■STARLING'S (MISS) NOBLE DEEDS OF WOMAN, or Examples of Peniale Court* 
Fortitude, and Virtue, Third Editioa. e&larged and Impvoved, wiUi two very buutifUl FrouOi 
nlacea. alesuit is cl0&. £j. IIU