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 Lesbia of Catullus / 
 
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a Cornell University 
 '9 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924026492904 
 
THE LESBIA OF CATULLUS 
 
The Lesbia of Catullus 
 
 Arranged and Translated by 
 J. H. A. TREMENHEERE 
 
 Iiiman Civil Service 
 
 / 
 
 LONDON 
 
 T. FISHER UNWIN 
 
 Paternoster Square 
 
 1897 
 
 K 
 
7A 
 
 ,8 5Tje 
 
 ft. 14--]^% 
 
 \ 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 
NOTE 
 
 This selection includes every poem of 
 Catullus which either certainly or not im- 
 probably concerns his relation to Lesbia, 
 or throws light upon it. 
 
 The translations have been revised 
 from Ellis's Commentaries and Simpson's 
 " Select Poems of Catullus " ; from the 
 latter have been borrowed several felicities 
 of expression, including the pun in LXVI. 
 The biographical facts and the main 
 
lO 
 
 arrangement of the poems have been 
 gathered partly from Ellis, but chiefly 
 from Sellar's " Roman Poets of the Re- 
 public," and the article " Catullus " in 
 the Encyclopcsdia Britannica. 
 
 The text used is from Simpson, Mueller, 
 and William Walker. 
 
 As palliation for defects there may be 
 pleaded long exile from the atmosphere 
 of scholarship. 
 
 " In extremes . . . Indos 
 Litus ut longe resonante Eoa 
 Tunditur unda.'' 
 
CONTENTS 
 
13 
 
 I. The Birth of Love, b.c. 61-60 15 
 
 II. Possession, b.c. 60 . . .29 
 
 III. Quarrels, b.c. 60 . . .61 
 
 IV. Reconciliation, b.c. 60 . -75 
 
 V. Doubt, b.c. 59 . . . -87 
 
 VI. A Brother's Death, b.c. 59 ^ . 95 
 
 VII. Unfaithfulness, b.c. 59-58 . 105 
 
 VIII. Avoidance, b.c. 57-56. . . 143 
 IX. The Death of Love, b.c. 56-54 161 
 
15 
 
 I 
 
 The Birth of Love 
 
i; 
 
 It is here sought to trace the course 
 
 of that ill-fated passion which wrecked 
 
 the happiness of the tenderest of Roman 
 
 poets. 
 
 ^ Catullus, like Shakespeare, loved the 
 
 wife of another; underwent ''loves wrong" 
 
 from his dearest friend ; forgave infidelity 
 
 until his mistress became " the wide worlds 
 
 common-place" ; and in the end found his 
 
 lust " a very woe." 
 
I8 
 
 In the year 62 b.c. the province in which 
 Verona lay was governed by Metellus 
 Celer, " a most illustrious and gallant 
 man, superior to almost all citizens in 
 virtue and glory and dignity." He m.ay 
 l)erhaps have been accompanied by his wife 
 Clodia, a wom-an then thirty-two years 
 of age, highly accomplished, and of the 
 noblest extraction. The father of Catullus, 
 being both in rank and in wealth one of 
 
19 
 
 the leaders in Veronese society, must have 
 paid his respects to the Governor ; and 
 it is possible that Clodia then met the 
 young poet, who had already, though only 
 twenty-two years of age, gained some 
 reputation as a writer of amatory verse. 
 It is certain that the following year(6i) 
 found Catullus in her circle at Rome, 
 where her husband was now Consul- 
 designate. 
 
20 
 
 There the lad, rich, well-born, and 
 charming, threw himself with all the 
 fervour of a boyish and passionate nature 
 into a society as vicious as it was brilliant. 
 He fell under the influence of the beautiful 
 and fascinating Clodia, and remained so 
 for four of the rem,aining seven years of 
 his short life. 
 
21 
 
 They were no doubt first drawn together 
 by similarity of taste. Clodia seems to 
 have dabbled in verse, imitating, perhaps, 
 or translating the Greek lyrists. For 
 Catullus not only names her Lesbia, after 
 the Lesbian poetess, but first makes known 
 his respectful adoration by adapting 
 Sappho's imm,ortal description of passion. 
 
22 
 
 The following rendering is from the 
 Greek : 
 
23 
 
 Who sits absorbing at thy feet 
 
 Thy winsome voice and laughter sweet 
 
 Seems peer of gods to me ! 
 That flutt'rs my heart ; I cannot speak, 
 My laden tongue is like to break 
 
 When I but look on thee. 
 
 Darts subtle fire throughout my skin ; 
 My vacant eyes take nothing in ; 
 
 The ears ring in my head ; 
 Adrip with moisture — all a-quake — 
 Than grass mot-e sallow — I seem to lack 
 
 How little to be dead ! 
 
24 
 
 The lover now turns to flattery to aid 
 him in his suit — flattery most adroit, for 
 it is at the expense of a rival beauty. 
 
25 
 
 LXXXVI 
 
 " Quintia's a beauty ! " many cry. 
 
 Say fair and tall and straight of limb ! 
 
 I grant each item, but deny 
 
 Their sum is beauty's synonym. 
 
 Where is her charm ? What pinch of wit 
 
 Has that large frame to season it ? 
 
 Lesbia's a beauty, all must own ; 
 Not only wholly exquisite, 
 But every charm is hers alone. 
 And every woman's robbed of it ! 
 
26 
 
 Still Clodia is obdurate. Catullus, in a 
 fever of passion, suffers torments which 
 a year or so later he thus describes in a 
 letter to a friend: 
 
27 
 
 LXVIII. B. II 
 
 For what woe 
 
 I bare of the wily Cyprian queen you 
 know, 
 
 And how she wrought me, kindHng my 
 desire 
 
 Hot as Thermopylae or Etna's fire. 
 
 My eyes, grown sad with weeping oft- 
 renewed. 
 
 For ever melted, all my cheeks bedewed 
 
 With melancholy rain. 
 
II 
 
 Possession 
 
30 
 
 At last the gods in irony granted the 
 desire of Catullus; and the woman of 
 thirty-four, whose husband is now actually 
 Consul (b.c. 6o), steals from his arms to 
 meet her boyish lover at a villa which a 
 friend had lent. 
 
31 
 LXVIII. B. 
 
 O you have seen, 
 High on some airy mountain-top, the sheen 
 Of water shooting from the mossy stone ; 
 Headlong adown the gorge the stream 
 
 is thrown : 
 But soon some thickly-peopled country-side 
 It winds along, and when fierce summer- 
 tide 
 Scorches the fields and sets them all 
 
 agape, 
 O then no solace in more kindly shape 
 
32 
 
 Awaits the traveller, sweat-begrimed and 
 
 tired :— 
 And sweet are favouring breezes, long- 
 desired 
 In prayer of Pollux or his brother twin. 
 That softly breathing come to sailor-men 
 Tossed in a murky hurricane at sea ; — 
 So sweet, so kindly AHius was to me. 
 
33 
 
 Through him the field was opened and 
 the road 
 Made broad and easy ; and to him I owed 
 A welcome to the house and mistress there 
 So he and I might meet our ladies fair. 
 Thither my lustrous goddess softly crept, 
 And o'er the polish of the threshold 
 
 stepped 
 A-tiptoe ; there her silver foot she stayed 
 Upon the creaking which her sandal made. 
 
34 
 
 Not otherwise with passion all aflame 
 
 Home to her lord Laodamia came ; 
 
 * * * * 
 
 To whom in little or nothing second then, 
 
 Light of my soul, these arms you nestled 
 in, 
 
 While oft and oft about you Cupid played, 
 Flashing from this side and from that, 
 
 arrayed 
 Lustrous in saffron robe. 
 
36 
 
 What was the scene of this first stolen 
 interview ? The fenced field, the narrow 
 path, the retired villa to which Clodia could 
 steal from her husband, point to some 
 country resort of fashion, probably Tibur 
 on the distant hills overlooking the city. 
 
 In that neighbourhood, indeed, Catullus 
 is soon found settled in a villa. His 
 friend teazed him about its pretensions, 
 and he himself was ready enough to laugh 
 at it. To what wind is it exposed? To 
 the wind he had raided towards buying it ! 
 
XXVI 
 
 Due on my little villa falls — 
 
 A west wind ? Or a southern one ? 
 
 Or northern, full of squalls and brawls ? 
 
 Or that which follows up the sun ? 
 
 A blast more foul, more plaguey yet ; — 
 
 A fifteer) thousand mortgage-debt ! ' 
 
38 
 
 Of course occasional stealthy meetings 
 could not satisfy the lovers. Catullus 
 complains of the- weight of passion, and 
 playfully pretends that it bears harder 
 upon him than upon his m-istress : 
 
39 
 
 II 
 
 O Sparrow, all my. Lady's joy, 
 With whom she ever loves to toy. 
 To hold thee in her breast and give 
 A finger-tip provocative 
 To tempt thy sallies and excite 
 Many a cruel, cruel bite ! 
 Since pretty follies such as these 
 My sweetheart exquisite can please, 
 (Sure, in distraction of her pain 
 Till fevered passion cool again !) — 
 Would I could toy like her with thee 
 And ease a lover's misery ! 
 
40 
 
 The pretty bird, alas ! dies, and this is 
 
 its 
 
41 
 
 III 
 
 O Loves and Graces, bow the head, 
 
 And all mankind who beauty prize ! 
 
 My Lady's sparrow, he is dead. 
 
 Whom more she cherished than her eyes. 
 
 The sparrow, all my Lady's joy ! 
 
 For her the little honey knew 
 
 Well as girls their mothers do ; 
 
 Nor would he from her bosom fly, 
 
 But, round his mistress flutter-flitter. 
 
 To her and her alone would twitter. 
 
42 
 
 And now he journeys on that darksome 
 way 
 Thither, whence none returns, they say. 
 Then curse upon thee, cursed Night, 
 Who ravinest on all pretty things that be. 
 So pretty a bird to ravish from our keeping! 
 A cursed deed ! O luckless, luckless mite ! 
 
 My Lady's eyes, through thee, 
 Are swoll'n and red with weeping ! 
 
44 
 
 The following poem, though written by 
 Catullus not for himself and not indeed 
 till five or six years later, is so redolent 
 with the mem-ory of this im,passioned 
 period, that it m,ust be read here : 
 
45 
 
 XLV 
 
 Septimius murmured as he pressed 
 
 His sweetheart Acme to his breast, 
 
 "O Acme, if I love not thee 
 
 To frenzy, and in love must be 
 
 As madly through each coming year 
 
 As ever lover with his dear. 
 
 In parched Ind may I alone 
 
 A grim-eyed lion chance upon ! " 
 
46 
 
 Here Love, no longer in despite. 
 Sneezed out God-bless-you on the right. 
 
47 
 
 But Acme lightly lifts her head, 
 Kissing with lips divinely red 
 Her minion's passion-sodden eyes ; 
 " My Life, Septimius ! " she replies. 
 " So may we willing slaves adore 
 This only Master evermore, 
 As burns this tender heart of mine 
 With larger, fiercer flame than thine ! " 
 
48 
 
 Here Love, no longer in despite, 
 Sneezed out God-bless-you on the right. 
 
49 
 
 With happy omen now they start, 
 Loving and loved with equal heart. 
 Love-sick, for her would he forego 
 Your Syrias and your Britains too ; 
 To him doth Acrrie faithful prove 
 With all the sweetest arts of love. 
 What luckier pair were seen on earth ? 
 What Venus of a happier birth ? 
 
so 
 
 Gossips began to talk, and the husband to 
 
 preach. 
 Love in his turn takes up the text : 
 
51 
 
 V 
 
 Let's live and love, O Lesbia mine, 
 
 And value at a single copper 
 
 Chatter of grey-beards too too proper ! 
 
 The setting sun again will shine ; 
 
 But once has set our little light 
 
 We sleep for ever one unbroken Night. 
 
 Give me a thousand kisses then. 
 
 And now a hundred, and again 
 
 A thousand, and a hundred yet. 
 
 And this and that reiterate ! 
 
 When these to many thousands mount 
 
 Jumble them up — for fear we count 
 
 Or Malice look with envious eye 
 
 On kisses mounting up so high ! 
 
52, 
 
 Catullus and Clodia, if any one, knew 
 " the stars that watch the stealthy loves of 
 ■men ; " but these natural philosophers used 
 the knowledge only to tell their tale of 
 kisses : 
 
S3 
 
 VII 
 
 How many kisses showered on thee 
 
 Were plenty and to spare for me ? 
 
 O count the Libyan sands that girt 
 Cyrene, land of laser-wort, 
 From horrid Amnion's voice of doom 
 To hoary Battus' holy tomb ! 
 
 Count stars at hush of night that spy 
 When lovers meet clandestinely ! 
 
 So many kisses plenty were 
 For fond Catullus and to spare, 
 Beyond the count of prying eyes 
 Or evil tongues' malignities ! 
 
54 
 
 At last the lovers have a chance of meet- 
 ing at a banquet ; the guests are to supply 
 the food, Catullus, the host, contributing 
 little enough : 
 
55 
 XIII 
 
 If you're in luck, you'll soon, Fabullus ! 
 
 Sup famously with your Catullus. 
 But bring provision rich and plenty 
 (Besides some little Sweet-and-Twenty !) 
 And wine and wit and all the laughter ! 
 Bring these, my exquisite, and after 
 Sup famously ; my purse, alas ! 
 A plethora of cobwebs has. 
 Such raptures I'll contribute yet. 
 Or ectasies more delicate ! 
 For lo ! an unguent shall be ready, 
 The Loves and Graces gave my Lady. 
 Smell it, and Heaven you shall implore 
 To make you Nose and nothing more ! 
 
56 
 
 " 'Twere no offence to reason " to suppose 
 that this was the very banquet celebrated 
 in the following song. Poor Propriety is 
 mocked at in the very manner of this period. 
 Clodia, however, was not the queeij. of the 
 feast who so misconducted herself : 
 
57 
 
 XXVII 
 
 With old Falernian, boy, fill up, 
 A stronger and a stronger cup ; 
 For so decrees the banquet's queen 
 (More soaked than ever grape has been !). 
 Then Water, hence ! You poison wine ! 
 Flit to a home more strict than mine ! 
 This, simple, is the very draught 
 That Bacchus in his orgies quaffed ! 
 
58 
 
 The following compliment, though pro- 
 bably of a later date, m.ay be reproduced 
 here, as it seizes by contrast to give some 
 dim picture of Clodia ; a dark aristocratic 
 beauty, whose glowing eyes of passion we 
 read of elsewhere : 
 
59 
 
 XLIII 
 
 The daintiest nose — eyes black of hue — 
 Feet shapely — fingers tapering too — 
 No slobbery lips— a tongue that is 
 Fastidious even to excess — 
 Pray which of all these points doth stamp 
 Your mistress of the Formian scamp ? 
 I make you, child, my humble duty ! 
 Is't you the Province calls a beauty ? 
 Our Lesbia is compared with you ? 
 Ah, foolish world, and tasteless too ! 
 
Ill 
 
 Quarrels 
 
62 
 
 Some lovers quarrel now took place, and 
 Catullus treated it in this half-serious, 
 half-smiling way. Clodia, of course, was 
 angrier than ever at a satire which gravely 
 asked how she could live without assigna- 
 tions, and which assumed that she could 
 find no one else in Rome to admire her. 
 
63 
 
 VIII 
 
 Why rave, Catullus, passion-tossed ? 
 What's dead and gone, why, count as lost! 
 Once brightly shone the sun o'erhead. 
 You fluttering where your Lady led 
 Beloved as shall again be none. 
 Then many a merry thing was done 
 That you desired nor she forbade ; 
 Ay, brightly shone the sun o'erhead. 
 Now she forbids, desire were folly ; 
 Seek not what flies ! Hang melancholy ! 
 
64 
 
 Be hard and cold, and harder still ! 
 Catullus hardens ; Sweet, farewell ! 
 He'll woo you not against your bent. 
 But, naughty one, you'll soon repent 
 When no one comes at night to woo. 
 What sort of life is left for you ? 
 Uncourted, unadmired, without 
 Some one to love, to be teased about, 
 To kiss, to bite i' the lip ? 
 
 But you, 
 Catullus, harden through and through 1 
 
66 
 
 The poet vehemently denies that he had 
 slandered his mistress, and thus attacks a 
 talebearer: 
 
67 
 
 CIV 
 
 Do you think I could slander my Life, 
 Who is dearer than both of my eyes ? 
 O no ! If I could, I should never 
 Consume with such passionate fever ! 
 But whenever a horror is rife 
 'Tis you and the Sot give it rise. 
 
68 
 
 The independent tone of the next two 
 poems was not calculated to appease Clodia: 
 
69 
 
 XCII 
 
 Lesbia does nothing else but flout me, 
 Yet cannot hold her tongue about me. 
 Then hang me, but she loves me dearly ! 
 What proof? My own behaviour clearly! 
 For I attack her just as stoutly, 
 And hang me but I love devoutly ! 
 
70 
 
 LXXXIII 
 
 Her husband nigh, 
 Lesbia maligns me every minute, 
 
 While he stands by, 
 Poor dolt, and grins with pleasure in it. 
 
 Why, thick-skinned fool. 
 Could she keep silence and forget. 
 
 Her heart were whole. 
 'Tis memory makes her fume and fret. 
 
71 
 
 Or, which is worse, 
 'Tis anger she must still be wreaking. 
 
 Falling to curse. 
 Thus 'tis her very passion speaking ! 
 
72 
 
 At last Catullus is brought to his 
 knees; probably by Clodia receiving the 
 attentions of some other aspirant : 
 
73 
 
 LX 
 
 Was it a lioness on Libyan hills, 
 Or Scylla barking from her nether part 
 That brought thee forth ? Who so in- 
 human art, 
 That now in this worst crisis of my ills 
 Thou scorn'st my prayer ! O, too, too 
 savage heart ! 
 
IV 
 
 Reconciliation 
 
76 
 
 The last despairing appeal was success- 
 ful. Clodia relented ; but the crisis seems 
 to have sobered Catullus in the next two 
 poems : 
 
77 
 
 CVII 
 
 When he who longs and sighs, 
 
 Though hope has fled, 
 Stumbles upon the prize, 
 
 O joy indeed ! 
 Such joy is mine, that thou, 
 
 Dearer than gold, 
 Lesbia, reseekest now 
 
 Thy love of old ; 
 
78 
 
 Thyself reseek'st my love 
 
 When hope had fled. 
 O day all days above, 
 
 Be honoured ! 
 Who happier lives than I ? 
 
 Or who shall say 
 That life can give more joy 
 
 Than mine to-day ? 
 
79 
 
 CIX 
 
 My Life, you swear this love of ours 
 Shall pleasant and perp.etual be. 
 
 Fulfil her promise, Heavenly Powers 
 And grant it honest, frank, and free, 
 
 That all our lives be ordered by 
 This league of solemn amity ! 
 
8o 
 
 To a reconciliation Clodia had imposed 
 two conditions ; one, that Catullus should 
 not satirise her again, which could easily 
 be promised ; the other, that she should 
 burn her pick of the writings of ''the 
 worst poet " in Roms. He affects not to 
 know that he himself was aim.ed at, and 
 gravely offers for a victim the pretentious 
 work of a rival poet : 
 
8i 
 
 XXXVI 
 
 O vile " Historical Review," 
 
 My Lady's vow be paid with you ! 
 
 For, by St. Cupid and St. Venus, 
 
 She vowed if peace were patched between 
 
 us 
 (And my satirics dropped, to show it ! ) 
 She'ld take the city's sorriest poet 
 And sacrifice his choicest folly 
 On fire all fed with wood unholy ; 
 Aiming her vow, so sly, so witty, 
 At this the sorriest trash i' the city. 
 
82 
 
 Then, O begotten of the foam, 
 Goddess who lov'st to make thy home 
 In blest Idalium and abide 
 In Urii of the prospect wide ; 
 Ancona knows thy presence saving. 
 And Cnidus, land of reeds a-waving, 
 Amathus, Gdlgi, and withal 
 The Adriatic's house of call, 
 , Dyrrachium ; — Goddess, hold in pity 
 Her vow discharged, so gay, so witty ! 
 
83 
 
 Meanwhile into the flames with you 
 My rustic witling ! So adieu, 
 O vile " Historical Review " ! 
 
84 
 
 The strained relations between Catullus 
 and his Lady had been carefully watched 
 by rivals, one of whom dares now to parade 
 his passion : 
 
8s 
 
 XL 
 
 What madness hurls you, lovesick swain, 
 Headlong on my satiric strain ? 
 What god, by thee invoked amiss, 
 Stirs up a war so rash as this ? 
 Or must you be the talk o' the town ? 
 Cost what it may, you'll win renown ? 
 You shall ; such longing you exhibit 
 Both for my mistress — and a gibbet ! 
 
V 
 Doubt 
 
Catullus happircess had now lasted two 
 years, but had run its course. 
 
 In the year 59 B.C. Clodia's htisband 
 suddenly died, and Catullus had some sort 
 of expectation held out to him by the 
 widow. He cannot trust it, as her con- 
 duct with other men is raising a barrier 
 of doubt between them. 
 
89 
 
 LXX 
 
 To me, she vows, no mate would she 
 prefer 
 Tho' Jove her suitor were. 
 She vows ! Oh, vows to a lover fond 
 engrave 
 In wind or fleeting wave! 
 
90 
 
 He appeals piteously to a friend not to 
 come between him. and his love : 
 
91 
 
 LXXXII 
 
 Would'st have Catullus owe to thee his 
 eyes, 
 Or aught that dearer were ? 
 Than those or that, far dearer doth he 
 prize 
 One thing he begs thee spare ! 
 
92 
 
 Another intimate friend, the handsome 
 Rufus, now appears on the scene, returning 
 from service in Africa. He seems to have 
 paid assiduous court to Clodia, and 
 aroused Catulhts jealousy by his rich 
 Eastern presents. The poet attacks him 
 with a bitterness that cannot be repro- 
 duced, in the following paraphrase : 
 
93 
 
 LXIX 
 
 O wonder not all ladies swear 
 You are no cavalier for them — 
 
 Tho' bribed with vesture rich and rare 
 Or prettily translucent gem — 
 
 'Tis said — but let the tale go by : 
 
 Wash, and you'll cease to wonder why. 
 
VI 
 A BROTHER'S Death 
 
96 
 
 At this critical period of his love (59 
 B.C.), with so many wasps buzzing round 
 the honey, Catullus learns that his only 
 brother has died while travelling near 
 Troy, and at once goes home to his father in 
 Verona. His references to this brother are 
 am.ong the most pathetic passages in Latin 
 literature. They are inserted here, together 
 with other poem.s not directly affecting his 
 relations with Clodia, because they illustrate 
 the developtnent of character which deter- 
 mined his later attitude towards her. 
 
97 
 
 LXV 
 
 Grief walks with me, and guides my weary 
 
 heart 
 Far from the virgin-goddesses of Art ; 
 Their garnered sweetness not for me to 
 
 know, 
 Tossing so helpless on a sea of woe. 
 For late the stream of Lethe, rolling on. 
 Hath washed my brother's foot, all pale 
 
 and wan ; 
 Buried upon the shore of Troy he lies, 
 Ravished and hidden from our longing 
 
 eyes. 
 
98 
 
 O dearer far than life ! Can then it be, 
 Brother, that I no more shall look on 
 
 thee ? 
 Yet ever shall I love thee, ever sing 
 Songs sadly chastened by thy perishing ; 
 The nightingale doth use no other key 
 Thrilling dark woods with old-wofld 
 
 tragedy. 
 
 How large my sorrow looms ! Yet see, I 
 
 send 
 Callimachus translated for my friend ; 
 
99 
 
 Lest you should think your wish had 
 
 slipped my mind, 
 Vainly entrusted to a wandering wind. 
 So hides an innocent maid the apple, 
 
 thrown 
 By some sly lover, in her delicate gown, 
 Then, silly child, forgets ; but see her rise 
 To meet her lady-mother, out it flies ! 
 Plump ! headlong falls the treasure. Ah, 
 
 poor maid ! 
 By what a flood of blushes self-betrayed ! 
 
lOO 
 
 LXVIII. A. II 
 
 But, lest my sorrows be unknown, and lest 
 You think I shirk my duty to a guest, 
 Hear in what waves of fate myself am 
 
 tossed, 
 Nor ask for happy gifts of one so lost. 
 
 When first I donned the white robe, and 
 my spring 
 
 Of manhood gaily blossomed, did I sing 
 
 Light songs enough ; that goddess knows 
 no less 
 
 Who flavours love with such sweet bitter- 
 ness ! 
 
lOI 
 
 All that is hateful since my brother died 
 So sadly! Brother, ravished from my 
 
 side, 
 Thou dying, all my joy is changed to 
 
 gloom ; 
 All, all our house is buried in thy tomb. 
 Brother, with thee have all my pleasures 
 
 gone 
 Which ev'r had been thy sweet love 
 
 nourished on. 
 Those dear pursuits I've banished ; they 
 
 are fled, 
 And all such toys of the mind — for thou 
 
 art dead ! 
 
I02 
 
 LXVIII. B. 49 
 
 Accursed Troy — Europe and Asia's 
 
 tomb — 
 Of all great men and things the bitter 
 
 doom! 
 Troy was the cause that my poor brother 
 
 died 
 So sadly ! Brother, ravished from my side, 
 Alas ! thy pleasant light is quenched in 
 
 gloom ; 
 All, all our house is buried in thy tomb. 
 Brother, with thee have all my pleasures 
 
 gone 
 Which ev'r had been thy sweet love 
 
 nourished on : 
 
I03 
 
 Who now afar, not the known tombs 
 
 among, 
 Nor with our kinsmen's ashes laid along, 
 In hateful Troy, in Troy accursed doth 
 
 lie 
 At the land's end beneath a foreign sky. 
 
VII 
 
 Unfaithfulness 
 
io6 
 
 While prostrate with grief for his 
 brother, Catullus receives a letter from 
 Baits informing him, that Lesbia is un- 
 faithful. At first he hardly seems to 
 grasp the fact, though feeling that it adds 
 another woe to his burdened heart : 
 
I07 
 
 LXVIII. A. 27 
 
 You write ; that in Verona I should be 
 Is shame indeed, with every gallant free 
 To warm cold limbs where once I used to 
 
 lie— 
 O no ! that is not shame, but misery ! 
 
io8 
 
 In this calm air of home he can recog- 
 nise that falseness breeds falseness. But 
 he loves Clodia still, and could say with 
 Shakespeare : 
 
109 
 
 " Tell me thou lov'st elsewhere, but in my 
 
 sight, 
 Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye 
 
 aside." 
 
no 
 
 I I 
 
 LXVIII. B. 95 
 
 Whom now though I, 
 Catullus, singly cannot satisfy, 
 Yet shall I bear her frailties, so they are 
 But few and shamefast, lest I go too far 
 After the manner of fond, jealous fools. 
 Oft even Juno's self, in heaven who rules. 
 Smothered her burning anger, not un- 
 knowing 
 The many frailties of her lord's misdoing. 
 
Ill 
 Insatiate Jove. But gods compared with 
 
 men 
 Is no fair measure ; let me play not then 
 That hateful part, the ever-tremulous sire. 
 Nay more, no father's hand led my desire 
 Bride-like to meet me, neither to a home 
 Fragrant with Eastern odours did she 
 
 come, 
 But in the hush of night she stole away 
 E'en from the husband's arms wherein she 
 
 lay. 
 Wherefore enough, if mine that day alone 
 Which she is marking with a whiter stone. 
 
112 
 
 And now good luck be with you and 
 
 with her 
 Who is your Hfe, and with the villa 
 
 where 
 We played the lovers ; also with its dame 
 And with the friend from whom all good 
 
 things came, 
 Who gave firm ground on which to build 
 
 my love ; 
 And her, before all these and far above, 
 Light of my soul — dearer than self she is, 
 And while she liveth life is happiness. 
 
114 
 
 Late in this year 59, on his returning 
 to Rome, the cup of Catullus misery ran 
 over, when Clodia received Rufus as an 
 acknowledged lover into a house on the 
 Palatine. 
 
"5 
 
 " It is a greater grief 
 To bear love's wrong than hate's known 
 injury. 
 
ii6 
 
 The bitterest hate and scorn inhabited 
 his mind as he addressed the false friend : 
 
117 
 
 LXXVII 
 
 The trust I had in thee, 
 Is all in vain, in vain ; 
 
 Nay, rather costing me 
 A world of pain. 
 
 To steal into my blood. 
 Burning my heart away, 
 
 And all I had of good 
 To make thy prey ! 
 
 O cruel poison ! Thou 
 My very life hast sped ! 
 
 O plague ! Infected now 
 Our friendship's dead ! 
 
Ii8 
 
 He now htrns to Clodia, and upbraids 
 her in two tottching poems, the note of 
 which reappears in our own great poet : 
 
119 
 
 " But my five wits nor my five senses can 
 Dissuade one foolish heart from loving 
 thee." 
 
 And again : 
 
 " Who taught thee how to make me love 
 
 more 
 The more I hear and see just cause of 
 
 hate ? " 
 
I20 
 
 LXXII 
 
 Lesbia ! You used to say you were 
 
 Catullus' own ; 
 To me, not Jove, would you prefer, 
 
 And thereupon 
 I loved you as no mistress mere. 
 
 But as a son 
 Or daughter's husband is held dear— 
 
 Now are you known ! 
 And though my passion's livelier 
 
 And fiercer grown. 
 More vile and worthless you appear- 
 
 The wrong you've done 
 May make Desire to wanton freer, 
 
 But lays Love prone. 
 
121 
 
 LXXXVII AND LXXV 
 
 Such love as woman never won 
 Was, Lesbia ! mine for thee ; 
 
 Such truth as never league had known 
 Thy love had found in me. 
 
 My heart, by falseness now repelled 
 Yet vain with passion strives ; 
 
 Turn honest, yet esteem were killed, 
 Be vile, yet love survives. 
 
122 
 
 Catullus then cries out upon ingratitude : 
 
123 
 
 LXXIII 
 
 Of man no longer seek to merit well, 
 Nor dream that faith may faithfulness 
 
 compel ! 
 The world is thankless ; favours past are 
 
 vain, 
 Nay, are a growing burden and a bane. 
 
 Thus no one shows me deadlier hate than 
 
 he 
 Who lately stood all friendless but for me ! 
 
124 
 
 The next two poems show him resenting 
 the neglect or the falseness of friends in his 
 adversity : 
 
I2S 
 
 XXXVIII 
 
 111 times for your Catullus, friend, 
 111 times and hard, nor like to mend ; 
 Nay, worse and worse each day and hour ! 
 
 And yet — how easily in your power ! — 
 No word of comfort comes from you. 
 
 I'm vexed to the heart. O love untrue! 
 A few, few words, in sadder keys 
 Than tears of sad Simonides ! 
 
126 
 
 XXX 
 
 So soon forgetful ? False to comrades 
 true, 
 And pitiless to a friendship once so 
 sweet ? 
 Dare you be false and perjured traitor, 
 you? 
 O Heaven abhors such impious deceit. 
 
 You care not. — Quit me in my hour of 
 dole? 
 Then say what man should do, on whom 
 rely ! 
 You bade me confidently yield my soul, 
 Lured me to Love in fond security. 
 
127 
 
 Yet now betray me. Words and actions all 
 To the winds and airy rack thrown im- 
 potent ! 
 Though you forget them, yet doth Heaven 
 recall, 
 And Faith who soon shall force you to 
 repent ! 
 
128 
 
 We have now reached a time when Clodia 
 tired of Rufus and scattered her favours 
 through a wide circle of admirers, many of 
 whom had lived with Catullus in an in- 
 timacy which his affectionate nature mistook 
 for friendship. He turns upon one of these 
 false friends : 
 
129 
 
 CXVI 
 
 Oft had my mind been eager in the quest 
 To send thee songs Callimachus had made ; 
 That I might melt thy heart, and so arrest 
 The shafts of hatred aimed against my 
 head. 
 
 Now see I this my labour was in vain, 
 And all my prayers herein have not 
 
 availed ; 
 Henceforth my cloak shall turn those shafts 
 
 again. 
 But thou shalt meet thy doom, by mine 
 impaled ! 
 
I30 
 
 Here is a speciinen of his counter-attack . 
 
131 
 
 XGI 
 
 In all the misery and distress 
 Of this my love so comfortless, 
 One hope I cherished still — that you, 
 Gellius, would never prove untrue. 
 
 'Twas not that I esteemed you well. 
 As constant or incapable 
 Of vulgar baseness ; but that she 
 For whom great love was wasting me 
 The spice of incest lacked for you. 
 
132 
 
 And though we were old friends, 'tis true, 
 That seemed poor cause — to my poor mind. 
 Not so to yours ; such joy you find 
 In every vice which men commit 
 Let but some vileness season it ! 
 
134 
 
 The person next gibbeted, closely related 
 to Clodia, was surnamed The Handsome. 
 His suspected intrigue gave rise to these 
 lines : 
 
135 
 
 LXXIX 
 
 Lesbius is a handsome man. 
 
 Why not ? Since Leshia cares to prize him 
 
 Above yourself and all your clan, 
 
 Catullus ! Yet this handsome man 
 
 May sell Catullus with his clan 
 
 If three old friends will recognise him. 
 
136 
 
 We 710 longer hear of Venus and her 
 Loves, and for a very good reason. Clodia 
 had by this time set up in her house a 
 statue of Venus the Despoiler, on which 
 she hung as trophies the presents given 
 by her different lovers. 
 
 Now hate is born, though love will not 
 die. 
 
137 
 
 LXXXV 
 
 I hate and love. — Can hate and love be 
 blent ? — 
 
 I know not, I. 
 I feel them, and upon a cross am rent 
 In agony. 
 
138 
 
 At length Catullus feels that his only 
 chance of happiness is to withdraw from 
 the neighbotirhood of Clodia : 
 
139 
 LXXVI 
 
 To treasure thoughts of kindness shown 
 
 And feel no duty left undone, — 
 
 No outraged faith, no league of love 
 
 Betrayed in mock appeal to Jove — 
 
 If this be pleasure, many a joy, 
 
 Catullus, waits you by and by 
 
 From this ungrateful love. By you 
 
 All kindly things to say or do 
 
 Were said and done ; — all to no good 
 
 Offered to such ingratitude ! 
 
 Why further rack yourself? O borrow 
 
 Strength for withdrawal yet more thorough, 
 
 And grieve not Heaven by wooing Sorrow! 
 
140 
 
 'Tis hard at once old love to quell. 
 'Tis hard, but you must do it still. 
 This is your only chance of life ; 
 Victor you must be in this strife. 
 If mortal can, this you shall do — 
 Aye, even though he cannot too ! 
 
141 
 O God ! if Thine be pity — if Thou 
 E'en in the jaws of death erenow 
 Hast wrought salvation — look on me, 
 And if my life seem fair to Thee 
 
 tear this plague, this curse away, 
 Which, gaining on me day by day, 
 A creeping, slow paralysis. 
 
 Hath driven away all happiness. 
 
 1 ask Thee not that she return 
 
 My love, nor that she yet may yearn 
 
 For Purity — O that were vain ! 
 
 I pray but to be well again. 
 
 Quit of this foul disease. O bless 
 
 Thus, thus, O God ! my duteousness ! 
 
VIII 
 Avoidance 
 
144 
 
 Catullus was now to carry out his resolve 
 to tear himself away from Clodia. He 
 was able to combine this object with a visit 
 to the scene of his brother s death near 
 Troy, by obtaining an appointment on the 
 staff of the Proprcetor of Bithynia. In 
 the spring of ^ij he left Italy for that 
 governTnent, which lay on the further side 
 of the Bosporus, and extended for some 
 distance both inland and along the southern 
 shore of the Black Sea. 
 
 There he spent a year, during which 
 time he visited his brothers tomb : 
 
145 
 CI 
 
 Through many a tribe, o'er many a sea I 
 
 come, 
 Brother, for these sad rites against thy 
 
 tomb : 
 To give thee here the last poor gifts of 
 
 death 
 And vainly on thy mute ashes spend my 
 
 breath ; 
 Vainly, for fate hath stolen thy spirit arid 
 
 left 
 Me mourning, dearest, for the cruel theft. 
 But now in manner our forefathers taught. 
 These gifts to thy sad obsequies are 
 
 brought ; 
 Tho' wet with a brother's tears, accept 
 
 them still. 
 And now for ever. Hail dear, and Farewell! 
 
 lO 
 
146 
 
 By the spring of ^6 Catullus had built 
 himself a yacht, in which to sail koine 
 leisurely, visiting the world-famous cities 
 of Asia Minor. His mind seems to have 
 r£covered its tone as he thus bids farewell 
 to the staff : 
 
147 
 
 XLVI 
 
 Spring's thawy warmths return at last ; 
 Heaven's equinoctial rage is past 
 
 Since jolly Zephyr came ; 
 Catullus, fly the Phrygian wealds 
 And hot I^Jicsea's teeming fields 
 
 For Asia's towns of fame ! 
 
 Now pants the impatient heart for flight, 
 And now the feet in fond delight 
 
 Quicken beneath the spell ; 
 Sweet band of comrades, far from home 
 Together wending, back we roam 
 
 By various ways, — Farewell ! 
 
148 
 
 After a long voyage the yacht reached 
 Sirmio on the Lago di Garda, and in his 
 villa there Catullus recruited both body and 
 ■mind. This is his song of home-coming : 
 
149 
 
 XXXI 
 
 Of all peninsulas and isles that lie 
 In lakes pellucid or the vasty seas, 
 Sirmio, thou art the very eye of these, 
 How willingly, nay gleefully, I fly 
 
 To thy dear shores ! Scarce can I trust 
 
 my sense 
 That we have left Bithynia, that we are 
 Here and in safety. O to be quit of care — 
 Can there be purer joy? when all suspense 
 
ISO 
 
 Is thrown aside and with far labours pale 
 
 We reach our home and rest in the longed- 
 for bed ? — 
 
 This, this repays us, and naught else 
 instead, 
 
 For labours vast. — O lovely Sirmio, hail ! 
 
 Smile on thy lord ! Smile ev'ry ripple 
 
 about ! 
 Each happy laugh of home, ring out, ring 
 
 out ! 
 
152 
 
 It was perhaps during this restful period 
 that he wrote a poem of condolence to a 
 friend who had lost his wife : 
 
I S3 
 
 XCVI 
 
 If aught begotten of our sorrow's womb, 
 Calvus, can soothe and cheer the silent 
 
 tomb, 
 What time our yearning hearts bring back 
 
 anew 
 Old love and weep for friends long lost to 
 
 view, — 
 Quintilia mourns untimely dying less 
 Than is she raptured in thy lovingness ! 
 
154 
 
 These marriage-songs too seem the pro- 
 duct of a m.ind that has recovered health 
 and turned back willingly to thoughts of 
 innocent happiness : 
 
Lxn. 39-61 
 
 The Maids. 
 
 A flower in the sheltering zone 
 
 Of a garden enwalled ; 
 To the browse of the flock unknown, 
 
 Of the plough ungalled ; 
 With sweetness given of the winds of 
 heaven, 
 
 And strength of the sun, 
 And shooting amain as the kindly rain 
 
 Impelleth it on ; 
 
156 
 
 O many a lad and a lass 
 Are sighing therefor : 
 
 Yet a nip of a nail as you pass, 
 And the flower is o'er, 
 
 And never a lad or a lass 
 Shall sigh for it more. 
 
IS7 
 
 And so with a maiden, the boast 
 
 Of her sisterhood all. 
 But what an her flower be lost 
 
 And a taint befall ? 
 No more is she glad to the eyes of a lad, 
 
 To the lassies a pride ! 
 Yet Hymen is here — He is hovering near 
 
 The bed of the bride ! 
 
158 
 
 The Men. 
 
 A vine forsaken and bare 
 In an open croft ; 
 
 No clustering sweetness there, 
 No ranging aloft ; 
 But the weakling droops at the burden 
 
 and stoops 
 
 Down, down to her foot— 
 You would almost say that the uppermost 
 
 spray 
 
 Is clasping the root ; 
 
1 59 
 Not a hind there plyeth his skill, 
 
 Not a hoof doth tread : 
 But give the vine if you will 
 
 With an elm to wed, 
 And many a hind shall till 
 
 And a yoke be sped. 
 
 And so with a maid if she wait 
 
 For the wooing of Time. 
 But what an she win her a mate 
 In the flush of her prime ? 
 No longer so dire a reproach to her sire, 
 
 She's a husband's pride ! 
 And Hymen is here — He is hovering near 
 The bed of the bride ! 
 
IX 
 The Death of Love 
 
 II 
 
i63 
 
 ^ , After a short stay at Sirmio and in 
 Verona, Catullus returned to Rome, and 
 must have found the totan full of talk 
 about the trial of Rufus, which had just 
 taken place. Rufus had been prosecuted, 
 at Clodia's instigation for attempting to 
 poison her, and a great part of his 
 defence by Cicero was taken up in de- 
 nunciation of her vices. 
 
164 
 
 One or two extracts may be given : — 
 
 " TAe accusers talk to us about lusts and 
 loves and adulteries and Baice and doings 
 on the seashore and banquets and revels and 
 songs and music-parties and water-parties." 
 
 " Who made herself com,m.on to every- 
 body ; who had always some one or other 
 openly avowed as her lover; to whose 
 gardens, to whose house, to whose baths 
 the lusts of every one had free access as of 
 their own right." 
 
i6s 
 
 " The lust of that woman is so head- 
 long that she, even while behaving in the 
 most shameless m,anner, exults in the 
 presence of the most numerous crowd and 
 in the broadest daylight." 
 
 " She has opened her house to the pas- 
 sions of everybody, and has been ac- 
 customed to frequent the banquets of m,en 
 with whom, she has no relationship ; if 
 she does so in the city, in country-houses, 
 and in that Tnost frequented place, Baice ; 
 . . . by embracing men, by kissing them- 
 at water-parties and sailing-parties and 
 banquets" (Bohn). 
 
i66 
 
 This exposure, however, did not restrain 
 Clodia, and Catullus, writing to a friend 
 in Verona, thus describes her conduct as he 
 found it on his return : 
 
1 6/ 
 
 LVIII 
 
 Coelius ! That Lesbia who was mine, 
 
 And for whose love alone 
 Myself, my friends, did I resign. 
 
 That Lesbia once my own. 
 To-day makes square and lane her home 
 To prostitute to haughty Rome ! 
 
i68 
 
 It must be noted, however, that these 
 words are no more to be taken literally 
 than Cicero's forensic abuse. Outrageous 
 accusation was one of the fashions of the 
 tim^, and the m-ost horrible calumnies 
 passed as witty exaggerations. Vicious and 
 degraded Clodia doubtless was, but she 
 seems to have retained her place in a 
 vicious and degraded society. 
 
 At another tim,e Catullus addresses the 
 frequenters of a tavern (or a house his 
 satire represents as such), and draws the 
 following picture of the wom,an he had 
 loved, once the m.ost brilliant, distinguished, 
 and exquisite lady in Rom,e : 
 
169 
 
 XXXVII. II 
 
 My Lady, who had fled from me, 
 Beloved as none again shall be. 
 For whom I long and stoutly warred. 
 Has joined your gang and is adored 
 By each high-born and wealthy spark, 
 Nay (shame !), by each low gutter-shark 
 
I/O 
 
 A year later, in the winter of '^'^ or the 
 spring of 54, Clodia seems to have shown 
 some desire to be reconciled with Catullus. 
 He, however, would not even address her 
 directly, but by two of his least reputable 
 friends sends a m,essage, the coarseness of 
 which cannot be reproduced in English. . . 
 His love is dead, killed by her fault : 
 
171 
 
 XI 
 
 Comrades ! whom I can trust to stand by 
 me 
 Whether I pierce to India's further 
 shore, 
 Where beats the surf and thunders ever- 
 more ; 
 Whether where Nile discolours all the sea 
 
 Seven-mouthed ; or yonder airy Alps 
 
 transcend 
 
 To meditate on things memorial, 
 
 Of Caesar's greatness in the Rhine-swept 
 
 Gaul [end ; 
 
 And savage Britain, where the world hath 
 
172 
 
 Ready with me to dare what Heaven shall 
 will! 
 This bitter cry bear her I loved of 
 
 yore ; — 
 " Ah shameless, loveless lust ! Sweet, 
 seek no more 
 To win back love ; by thine own fault it 
 fell; 
 
 In the far corner of the field though hid, 
 Touched by the plough at last, — the flower 
 is dead ! " 
 
173 
 
 A few months later (b.c. 54), at the 
 early age of thirty, Catullus died, lamenting 
 with almost his latest breath ^Hhe medley of 
 all things, fair and foul, brought about by 
 sin and madness " ; but blind to the last to 
 his own share in this confusion. 
 
 Clodia's end is unknown. 
 
 THE END. 
 
Ube ©teabam ©tees 
 
 DNWIN BROTHERS, 
 ■WOKING AND LONDON. 
 
JUL » Bat 
 AUG 19 1904 
 
 NOV 3 1^)5