---
title: "Poems · Carmina"
author: "Catullus"
translator: "Sir Richard Francis Burton"
languages: [la, en]
shelf: "Classical Latin"
section: 1 of 4
url: https://scriptura.si/works/catullus-poems/1/
cite: "Catullus, tr. Sir Richard Francis Burton, Poems · Carmina, section 1. Scriptura (scriptura.si), https://scriptura.si/works/catullus-poems/1/"
---

# Poems · Carmina

*Catullus, tr. Sir Richard Francis Burton*

Lesbia, the sparrow, a thousand kisses, a brother’s grave: the poems of Catullus in Latin beside English.

> Latin: ed. Elmer Truesdell Merrill, from the Perseus Digital Library (canonical-latinLit, phi0472.phi001, CC BY-SA 4.0).

> English: Sir Richard Francis Burton, from the Perseus Digital Library (phi0472.phi001.perseus-eng3). Notes are not included.

> Rows follow the references the two texts share (books, chapters and sections), cut where both reach the end of a sentence.

## 1. Poems 1–41

Source: https://scriptura.si/works/catullus-poems/1/ · cite a paragraph as https://scriptura.si/works/catullus-poems/1/#p-N

[¶0] Now smooth’d to polish due with pumice dry
Whereto this lively booklet now give I?
To thee (Cornelius!); for wast ever fain
To deem my trifles somewhat boon contain;
E’en when thou single ’mongst Italians found
Daredst all periods in three Scripts expound
Learned (by Jupiter!) elaborately.
Then take thee whatso in this booklet be,
Such as it is, whereto O Patron Maid
To live down Ages lend thou lasting aid!

> Latin: Cui dono lepidum novum libellum
arido modo pumice expolitum?
Corneli, tibi; namque tu solebas
meas esse aliquid putare nugas,
iam tum cum ausus es unus Italorum
omne aevum tribus explicare chartis,
doctis, Iuppiter, et laboriosis!
quare habe tibi quidquid hoc libelli
qualecumque, quod, o patrona virgo,
plus uno maneat perenne saeclo.

[¶1] Sparrow! my pet’s delicious joy,
Wherewith in bosom nurst to toy
She loves, and gives her finger-tip
For sharp-nib’d greedingneb to nip,
Were she who my desire withstood
To seek some pet of merry mood,
As crumb o’ comfort for her grief,
Methinks her burning lowe’s relief:
Could I, as plays she, play with thee,
That mind might win from misery free!
…
To me t’were grateful (as they say),
Gold codling was to fleet-foot May,
Whose long-bound zone it loosed for aye.

> Latin: Passer, deliciae meae puellae,
quicum ludere, quem in sinu tenere,
cui primum digitum dare adpetenti
et acris solet incitare morsus,
cum desiderio meo nitenti
carum nescio quid libet iocari
(et solaciolum sui doloris,
credo, ut tum gravis adquiescat ardor),
tecum ludere sicut ipsa possem
et tristis animi levare curas!
…
Tam gratum est mihi quam ferunt puellae
pernici aureolum fuisse malum,
quod zonam solvit diu ligatam.

[¶2] Weep every Venus, and all Cupids wail,
And men whose gentler spirits still prevail.
Dead is the Sparrow of my girl, the joy,
Sparrow, my sweeting’s most delicious toy,
Whom loved she dearer than her very eyes;
For he was honeyed-pet and anywise
Knew her, as even she her mother knew;
Ne’er from her bosom’s harbourage he flew
But ’round her hopping here, there, everywhere,
Piped he to none but her his lady fair.
Now must he wander o’er the darkling way
Thither, whence life-return the Fates denay.
But ah! beshrew you, evil Shadows low’ring
In Orcus ever loveliest things devouring:
Who bore so pretty a Sparrow fro’ her ta’en.
(Oh hapless birdie and Oh deed of bane!)
Now by your wanton work my girl appears
With turgid eyelids tinted rose by tears.

> Latin: Lugete, o Veneres Cupidinesque
et quantum est hominum venustiorum!
passer mortuus est meae puellae,
passer, deliciae meae puellae,
quem plus illa oculis suis amabat;
nam mellitus erat, suamque norat
ipsa tam bene quam puella matrem,
nec sese a gremio illius movebat,
sed circumsiliens modo huc modo illuc
ad solam dominam usque pipiabat.
qui nunc it per iter tenebricosum
illuc unde negant redire quemquam.
at vobis male sit, malae tenebrae
Orci, quae omnia bella devoratis;
tam bellum mihi passerem abstulistis.
o factum male! o miselle passer!
tua nunc opera meae puellae
flendo turgiduli rubent ocelli.

[¶3] Yonder Pinnace ye (my guests!) behold
Saith she was erstwhile fleetest-fleet of crafts,
Nor could by swiftness of aught plank that swims,
Be she outstripped, whether paddle plied,
Or fared she scudding under canvas-sail.
Eke she defieth threat’ning Adrian shore,
Dare not denay her, insular Cyclades,
And noble Rhodos and ferocious Thrace,
Propontis too and blustering Pontic bight.
Where she (my Pinnace now) in times before,
Was leafy woodling on Cytórean Chine
For ever loquent lisping with her leaves.
Pontic Amastris! Box-tree-clad Cytórus!
Cognisant were ye, and you weet full well
(So saith my Pinnace) how from earliest age
Upon your highmost-spiring peak she stood,
How in your waters first her sculls were dipt,
And thence thro’ many and many an important strait
She bore her owner whether left or right,
Where breezes bade her fare, or Jupiter deigned
At once propitious strike the sail full square;
Nor to the sea-shore gods was aught of vow
By her deemed needful, when from Ocean’s bourne
Extreme she voyaged for this limpid lake.
Yet were such things whilome: now she retired
In quiet age devotes herself to thee
(O twin-born Castor) twain with Castor’s twin.

> Latin: Phasellus ille, quem videtis, hospites,
ait fuisse navium celerrimus,
neque ullius natantis impetum trabis
nequisse praeterire, sive palmulis
opus foret volare sive linteo.
et hoc negat minacis Hadriatici
negare litus insulasve Cycladas
Rhodumque nobilem horridamque Thraciam
Propontida trucemve Ponticum sinum,
ubi iste post phasellus antea fuit
comata silva: nam Cytorio in iugo
loquente saepe sibilum edidit coma.
Amastri Pontica et Cytore buxifer,
tibi haec fuisse et esse cognitissima
ait phasellus; ultima ex origine
tuo stetisse dicit in cacumine,
tuo imbuisse palmulas in aequore,
et inde tot per impotentia freta
erum tulisse, laeva sive dextera
vocaret aura, sive utrumque Iuppiter
simul secundus incidisset in pedem;
neque ulla vota litoralibus diis
sibi esse facta, cum veniret a mari
novissimo hunc ad usque limpidum lacum.
sed haec prius fuere: nunc recondita
senet quiete seque dedicat tibi,
gemelle Castor et gemelle Castoris.

[¶4] Love we (my Lesbia!) and live we our day,
While all stern sayings crabbed sages say,
At one doit’s value let us price and prize!
The Suns can westward sink again to rise
But we, extinguished once our tiny light,
Perforce shall slumber through one lasting night!
Kiss me a thousand times, then hundred more,
Then thousand others, then a new five-score,
Still other thousand other hundred store.
Last when the sums to many thousands grow,
The tale let’s trouble till no more we know,
Nor envious wight despiteful shall misween us
Knowing how many kisses have been kissed between us.

> Latin: Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus,
rumoresque senum severiorum
omnes unius aestimemus assis.
soles occidere et redire possunt:
nobis, cum semel occidit brevis lux,
nox est perpetua una dormienda.
da mi basia mille, deinde centum,
dein mille altera, dein secunda centum,
deinde usque altera mille, deinde centum,
dein, cum milia multa fecerimus,
conturbabimus illa, ne sciamus,
aut ne quis malus invidere possit,
cum tantum sciat esse basiorum.

[¶5] Thy Charmer (Flavius!) to Catullus’ ear
Were she not manner’d mean and worst in wit
Perforce thou hadst praised nor couldst silence keep.
But some enfevered jade, I wot-not-what,
Some piece thou lovest, blushing this to own.
For, nowise ’customed widower nights to lie
Thou ’rt ever summoned by no silent bed
With flow’r-wreaths fragrant and with Syrian oil,
By mattress, bolsters, here, there, everywhere
Deep-dinted, and by quaking, shaking couch
All crepitation and mobility.
Explain! none whoredoms (no!) shall close my lips.
Why? such outfuttered flank thou ne’er wouldst show
Had not some fulsome work by thee been wrought.
Then what thou holdest, boon or bane be pleased
Disclose! For thee and thy beloved fain would I
Upraise to Heaven with my liveliest lay.

> Latin: Flavi, delicias tuas Catullo,
ni sint inlepidae atque inelegantes,
velles dicere, nec tacere posses.
verum nescio quid febriculosi
scorti diligis: hoc pudet fateri.
nam te non viduas iacere noctes
nequiquam tacitum cubile clamat
sertis ac Syrio fragrans olivo,
pulvinusque peraeque et hic et ille
attritus, tremulique quassa lecti
argutatio inambulatioque.
nam nil stupra valet, nihil, tacere.
cur? non tam latera ecfututa pandas,
ni tu quid facias ineptiarum.
quare, quidquid habes boni malique,
dic nobis: volo te ac tuos amores
ad caelum lepido vocare versu.

[¶6] Thou ask’st How many kissing bouts I bore
From thee (my Lesbia!) or be enough or more?
I say what mighty sum of Lybian-sands
Confine Cyrene’s Laserpitium-lands
’Twixt Oracle of Jove the Swelterer
And olden Battus’ holy Sepulchre,
Or stars innumerate through night-stillness ken
The stolen Love-delights of mortal men,
For that to kiss thee with unending kisses
For mad Catullus enough and more be this,
Risses nor curious wight shall count their tale,
Nor to bewitch us evil tongue avail.

> Latin: Quaeris quot mihi basiationes
tuae, Lesbia, sint satis superque.
quam magnus numerus Libyssae harenae
laserpiciferis iacet Cyrenis,
oraclum Iovis inter aestuosi
et Batti veteris sacrum sepulcrum,
aut quam sidera multa, cum tacet nox,
furtivos hominum vident amores,
tam te basia multa basiare
vesano satis et super Catullo est,
quae nec pernumerare curiosi
possint nec mala fascinare lingua.

[¶7] Woe-full Catullus! cease to play the fool
And what thou seest dead as dead regard!
Whilòme the sheeniest suns for thee did shine
When oft-a-tripping whither led the girl
By us beloved, as shall none be loved.
There all so merry doings then were done
After thy liking, nor the girl was loath.
Then certès sheeniest suns for thee did shine.
Now she’s unwilling: thou too (hapless!) will
Her flight to follow, and sad life to live:
Endure with stubborn soul and still obdure.
Damsel, adieu! Catullus obdurate grown
Nor seeks thee, neither asks of thine unwill;
Yet shalt thou sorrow when none woos thee more;
Reprobate! Woe to thee! What life remains?
Who now shall love thee? Who’ll think thee fair?
Whom now shalt ever love? Whose wilt be called?
To whom shalt kisses give? whose liplets nip?
But thou (Catullus!) destiny-doomed obdure.

> Latin: Miser Catulle, desinas ineptire,
et quod vides perisse perditum ducas.
fulsere quondam candidi tibi soles,
cum ventitabas quo puella ducebat
amata nobis quantum amabitur nulla.
ibi illa multa tum iocosa fiebant,
quae tu volebas nec puella nolebat.
fulsere vere candidi tibi soles.
nunc iam illa non vult: tu quoque, impotens, noli,
nec quae fugit sectare, nec miser vive,
sed obstinata mente perfer, obdura.
vale, puella! iam Catullus obdurat,
nec te requiret nec rogabit invitam:
at tu dolebis, cum rogaberis nulla.
scelesta, vae te! quae tibi manet vita!
quis nunc te adibit? cui videberis bella?
quem nunc amabis? cuius esse diceris?
quem basiabis? cui labella mordebis?
at tu, Catulle, destinatus obdura.

[¶8] Veranius! over every friend of me
Forestanding, owned I hundred thousands three,
Home to Penates and to single-soul’d
Brethren, returned art thou and mother old?
Yes, thou art come. Oh, winsome news come well!
Now shall I see thee, safely hear thee tell
Of sites Iberian, deeds and nations ’spied,
(As be thy wont) and neck-a-neck applied
I’ll greet with kisses thy glad lips and eyne.
Oh! Of all mortal men beatified
Whose joy and gladness greater be than mine?

> Latin: Verani, omnibus e meis amicis
antistans mihi milibus trecentis,
venistine domum ad tuos penates
fratresque unanimos anumque matrem?
venisti! o mihi nuntii beati!
visam te incolumem audiamque Hiberum
narrantem loca, facta, nationes,
ut mos est tuus, applicansque collum
iucundum os oculosque saviabor.
o, quantum est hominum beatiorum,
quid me laetius est beatiusve?

[¶9] Led me my Varus to his flame,
As I from Forum idling came.
Forthright some whorelet judged I it
Nor lacking looks nor wanting wit,
When hied we thither, mid us three
Fell various talk, as how might be
Bithynia now, and how it fared,
And if some coin I made or spared.
“There was no cause” (I soothly said)
“The Praetors or the Cohort made”
“Thence to return with oilier head;”
“The more when ruled by … ”
“Praetor, as pile the Cohort rating.”
Quoth they, “But certes as ’twas there”
“The custom rose, some men to bear”
“Litter thou boughtest?” I to her
To seem but richer, wealthier,
Cry, “Nay, with me ’twas not so ill”
“That, given the Province suffered, still”
“Eight stiff-backed loons I could not buy.”
(Withal none here nor there owned I
Who broken leg of Couch outworn
On nape of neck had ever borne!)
Then she, as pathic piece became,
“Prithee Catullus mine, those same”
“Lend me, Serapis-wards I’d hie.” …
“Easy, on no-wise, no,” quoth I,
“Whate’er was mine, I lately said”
“Is some mistake, my camarade”
“One Cinna-Gaius-bought the lot,”
“But his or mine, it matters what?”
“I use it freely as though bought,”
“Yet thou, pert troubler, most absurd,”
“None suffer’st speak an idle word.”

> Latin: Varus me meus ad suos amores
visum duxerat e foro otiosum,
scortillum, ut mihi tunc repente visum est,
non sane inlepidum neque invenustum.
huc ut venimus, incidere nobis
sermones varii, in quibus, quid esset
iam Bithynia, quo modo se haberet,
ecquonam mihi profuisset aere.
respondi id quod erat, nihil neque ipsis
nec praetoribus esse nec cohorti,
cur quisquam caput unctius referret,
praesertim quibus esset irrumator
praetor nec faceret pili cohortem.
“at certe tamen,” inquiunt, “quod illic”
“natum dicitur esse comparasti,”
“ad lecticam homines.” ego, ut puellae
unum me facerem beatiorem,
“non,” inquam, “mihi tam fuit maligne,”
“ut, provincia quod mala incidisset,”
“non possem octo homines parare rectos.”
at mi nullus erat neque hic neque illic
fractum qui veteris pedem grabati
in collo sibi conlocare posset.
hic illa, ut decuit cinaediorem,
“quaeso,” inquit, “mihi, mi Catulle, paulum”
“istos commoda: nam volo ad Sarapim”
“deferri.”“Mane,” inquii puellae,
“istud quod modo dixeram, me habere,”
“fugit me ratio: meus sodalis”
“Cinna est Gaius; is sibi paravit.”
“verum, utrum illius an mei, quid ad me?”
“utor tam bene quam mihi pararim.”
“sed tu insulsa male et molesta vivis,”
“per quam non licet esse neglegentem.”

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

> Latin: Furi et Aureli, comites Catulli,
sive in extremos penetrabit Indos,
litus ut longe resonante Eoa
tunditur unda,
sive in Hyrcanos Arabasve molles,
seu Sacas sagittiferosve Parthos,
sive quae septemgeminus colorat
aequora Nilus,
sive trans altas gradietur Alpes
Caesaris visens monimenta magni,
Gallicum Rhenum, horribile aequor, ulti-
mosque Britannos,
omnia haec, quaecumque feret voluntas
caelitum, temptare simul parati,
pauca nuntiate meae puellae
non bona dicta.
cum suis vivat valeatque moechis,
quos simul complexa tenet trecentos,
nullum amans vere, sed identidem omnium
ilia rumpens;
nec meum respectet, ut ante, amorem,
qui illius culpa cecidit velut prati
ultimi flos, praetereunte postquam
tactus aratro est.

[¶11] Marrúcinus Asinius! ill thou usest
That hand sinistral in thy wit and wine
Filching the napkins of more heedless hosts.
Dost find this funny? Fool it passeth thee
How ’tis a sordid deed, a sorry jest.
Dost misbelieve me? Trust to Pollio,
Thy brother, ready to compound such thefts
E’en at a talent’s cost; for he’s a youth
In speech past master and in fair pleasantries.
Of hendecasyllabics hundreds three
Therefore expect thou, or return forthright
Linens whose loss affects me not for worth
But as mementoes of a comrade mine.
For napkins Saetaban from Ebro-land
Fabúllus ent me a free giftie given
Also Veránius: these perforce I love
E’en as my Veraniólus and Fabúllus.

> Latin: Marrucine Asini, manu sinistra
non belle uteris in ioco atque vino:
tollis lintea neglegentiorum.
hoc salsum esse putas? fugit te, inepte!
quamvis sordida res et invenusta est
non credis mihi?crede Pollioni
fratri, qui tua furta vel talento
mutari velit; est enim leporum
disertus puer ac facetiarum.
quare aut hendecasyllabos trecentos
exspecta, aut mihi linteum remitte,
quod me non movet aestimatione,
verum est mnemosynum mei sodalis.
nam sudaria Saetaba ex Hiberis
miserunt mihi muneri Fabullus
et Veranius: haec amem necesse est
et Veraniolum meum et Fabullum.

[¶12] Thou’lt sup right well with me, Fabúllus mine,
In days few-numbered an the Gods design,
An great and goodly meal thou bring wi’ thee
Nowise forgetting damsel bright o’ blee,
With wine, and salty wit and laughs all-gay.
An these my bonny man, thou bring, I say
Thou’lt sup right well, for thy Catullus’ purse
Save web of spider nothing does imburse.
But thou in countergift more loves shalt take
Or aught of sweeter taste or fairer make:
I’ll give thee unguent lent my girl to scent
By every Venus and all Cupids sent,
Which, as thou savour, pray Gods interpose
And thee, Fabúllus, make a Naught-but-nose.

> Latin: Cenabis bene, mi Fabulle, apud me
paucis, si tibi di favent, diebus,
si tecum attuleris bonam atque magnam
cenam, non sine candida puella
et vino et sale et omnibus cachinnis.
haec si, inquam, attuleris, venuste noster
cenabis bene; nam tui Catulli
plenus sacculus est aranearum.
sed contra accipies meros amores
seu quid suavius elegantiusve est:
nam unguentum dabo, quod meae puellae
donarunt Veneres Cupidinesque,
quod tu cum olfacies, deos rogabis
totum ut te faciant, Fabulle, nasum.

[¶13] Did I not liefer love thee than my eyes
(Winsomest Calvus!), for that gift of thine
Certès I’d hate thee with Vatinian hate.
Say me, how came I, or by word or deed,
To cause thee plague me with so many a bard?
The Gods deal many an ill to such a client,
Who sent of impious wights to thee such crowd.
But if (as guess I) this choice boon new-found
To thee from “Commentator” Sulla come,
None ill I hold it—well and welcome ’tis,
For that thy labours ne’er to death be doom’d.
Great Gods! What horrid booklet damnable
Unto thine own Catullus thou (perdie!)
Did send, that ever day by day die he
In Saturnalia, first of festivals.
No! No! thus shall’t not pass wi’ thee, sweet wag,
For I at dawning day will scour the booths
Of bibliopoles, Aquinii, Caesii and
Suffenus, gather all their poison-trash
And with such torments pay thee for thy pains.
Now for the present hence, adieu! begone
Thither, whence came ye, brought by luckless feet,
Pests of the Century, ye pernicious Poets.

> Latin: Ni te plus oculis meis amarem,
iucundissime Calve, munere isto
odissem te odio Vatiniano:
nam quid feci ego quidve sum locutus,
cur me tot male perderes poetis?
isti di mala multa dent clienti
qui tantum tibi misit impiorum.
quod si, ut suspicor, hoc novum ac repertum
munus dat tibi Sulla litterator,
non est mi male, sed bene ac beate,
quod non dispereunt tui labores.
di magni, horribilem et sacrum libellum,
quem tu scilicet ad tuum Catullum
misti, continuo ut die periret,
Saturnalibus, optimo dierum!
non, non hoc tibi, false, sic abibit:
nam, si luxerit, ad librariorum
curram scrinia, Caesios, Aquinos,
Suffenum, omnia colligam venena,
ac te his suppliciis remunerabor.
vos hinc interea valete, abite
illuc unde malum pedem attulistis,
saecli incommoda, pessimi poetae.

[¶14] An of my trifles peradventure chance
You to be readers, and the hands of you
Without a shudder unto us be offer’d
…

> Latin: Si qui forte mearum ineptiarum
lectores eritis manusque vestras
non horrebitis admovere nobis,
…

[¶15] To thee I trust my loves and me,
(Aurelius!) craving modesty.
That (if in mind didst ever long
To win aught chaste unknowing wrong)
Then guard my boy in purest way.
From folk I say not: naught affray
The crowds wont here and there to run
Through street-squares, busied every one;
But thee I dread nor less thy penis
Fair or foul, younglings’ foe I ween is!
Wag it as wish thou, at its will,
When out of doors its hope fulfil;
Him bar I, modestly, methinks.
But should ill-mind or lust’s high jinks
Thee (Sinner!), drive to sin so dread,
That durst ensnare our dearling’s head,
Ah! woe’s thee (wretch!) and evil fate,
Mullet and radish shall pierce and grate,
When feet-bound, haled through yawning gate.

> Latin: Commendo tibi me ac meos amores,
Aureli. Veniam peto pudentem,
ut, si quicquam animo tuo cupisti
quod castum expeteres et integellum,
conserves puerum mihi pudice,
non dico a populo: nihil veremur
istos qui in platea modo huc modo illuc
in re praetereunt sua occupati;
verum a te metuo tuoque pene
infesto pueris bonis malisque.
quem tu qua libet, ut libet moveto
quantum vis, ubi erit foris paratum:
hunc unum excipio, ut puto, pudenter.
quod si te mala mens furorque vecors
in tantam impulerit, sceleste, culpam,
ut nostrum insidiis caput lacessas,
ah tum te miserum malique fati,
quem attractis pedibus patente porta
percurrent raphanique mugilesque.

[¶16] I’ll … you twain and …
Pathic Aurelius! Fúrius, libertines!
Who durst determine from my versicles
Which seem o’er softy, that I’m scant of shame.
For pious poet it behoves be chaste
Himself; no chastity his verses need;
Nay, gain they finally more salt of wit
When over softy and of scanty shame,
Apt for exciting somewhat prurient,
In boys, I say not, but in bearded men
Who fail of movements in their hardened loins.
Ye who so many thousand kisses sung
Have read, deny male masculant I be?
You twain I’ll … and …

> Latin: Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo,
Aureli pathice et cinaede Furi,
qui me ex versiculis meis putastis,
quod sunt molliculi, parum pudicum.
nam castum esse decet pium poetam
ipsum, versiculos nihil necesse est,
qui tum denique habent salem ac leporem,
si sunt molliculi ac parum pudici
et quod pruriat incitare possunt,
non dico pueris, sed his pilosis,
qui duros nequeunt movere lumbos.
vos quod milia multa basiorum
legistis, male me marem putatis?
pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo.

[¶17] Colony! fain to display thy games on length of thy town-bridge!
There, too, ready to dance, though fearing the shaking of crazy
Logs of the Bridgelet propt on pier-piles newly renewèd,
Lest supine all sink deep-merged in the marish’s hollow,
So may the bridge hold good when builded after thy pleasure
Where Salisúbulus’ rites with solemn function are sacred,
As thou (Colony!) grant me boon of mightiest laughter.
Certain a townsman mine I’d lief see thrown from thy gangway
Hurlèd head over heels precipitous whelmed in the quagmire,
Where the lake and the boglands are most rotten and stinking,
Deepest and lividest lie, the swallow of hollow voracious.
Witless surely the wight whose sense is less than of boy-babe
Two-year-old and a-sleep on trembling forearm of father.
He though, wedded to girl in greenest bloom of her youth-tide,
(Bride-wife daintier bred than ever was delicate kidlet,
Worthier diligent watch than grape-bunch blackest and ripest)
Suffers her sport as she please nor rates her even at hair’s worth,
Nowise ’stirring himself, but lying log-like as alder
Felled and o’er floating the fosse of safe Ligurian woodsman,
Feeling withal, as though such spouse he never had own’d;
So this marvel o’ mine sees naught, and nothing can hear he,
What he himself, an he be or not be, wholly unknowing.
Now would I willingly pitch such wight head first fro’ thy bridge,
Better a-sudden t’arouse that numskull’s stolid old senses,
Or in the sluggish mud his soul supine to deposit
Even as she-mule casts iron shoe where quagmire is stiffest.
This grove to thee devote I give, Priapus!
Who home be Lampsacus and holt, Priapus!
For thee in cities worship most the shores
Of Hellespont the richest oystery strand.
This place, O youths, I protect, nor less this turfbuilded cottage,
Roofed with its osier-twigs and thatched with its bundles of sedges;
I from the dried oak hewn and fashioned with rustical hatchet,
Guarding them year by year while more are they evermore thriving.
For here be owners twain who greet and worship my Godship,
He of the poor hut lord and his son, the pair of them peasants:
This with assiduous toil aye works the thicketty herbage
And the coarse water-grass to clear afar from my chapel:
That with his open hand ever brings me offerings humble.
Hung up in honour mine are flowery firstlings of spring-tide,
Wreaths with their ears still soft the tender stalklets a-crowning;
Violets pale are mine by side of the poppy-head pallid;
With the dull yellow gourd and apples sweetest of savour;
Lastly the blushing grape disposed in shade of the vine-tree.
Anon mine altar (this same) with blood (but you will be silent!)
Bearded kid and anon some horny-hoofed nanny shall sprinkle.
Wherefore Priapus is bound to requite such honours by service,
Doing his duty to guard both vineyard and garth of his lordling.
Here then, O lads, refrain from ill-mannered picking and stealing:
Rich be the neighbour-hind and negligent eke his Priapus:
Take what be his: this path hence leadeth straight to his ownings.
I thuswise fashionèd by rustic art
And from dried poplar-trunk (O traveller!) hewn,
This fieldlet, leftwards as thy glances fall,
And my lord’s cottage with his pauper garth
Protect, repelling thieves’ rapacious hands.
In spring with vari-coloured wreaths I’m crown’d,
In fervid summer with the glowing grain,
Then with green vine-shoot and the luscious bunch,
And glaucous olive-tree in bitter cold.
The dainty she-goat from my pasture bears
Her milk-distended udders to the town:
Out of my sheep-cotes ta’en the fatted lamb
Sends home with silver right-hand heavily charged;
And, while its mother lows, the tender calf
Before the temples of the Gods must bleed.
Hence of such Godhead, (traveller!) stand in awe,
Best it befits thee off to keep thy hands.
Thy cross is ready, shaped as artless yard;
“I’m willing,’faith” (thou say’st) but ’faith here comes
The boor, and plucking forth with bended arm
Makes of this tool a club for doughty hand.
Aurelius, father of the famisht crew,
Not sole of starvelings now, but wretches who
Were, are, or shall be in the years to come,
My love, my dearling, fain art thou to strum.
Nor privately; for nigh thou com’st and jestest
And to his side close-sticking all things questest.’Tis vain: while lay’st thou snares for me the worst,
By … I will teach thee first.
An food-full thus do thou, my peace I’d keep:
But what (ah me! ah me!) compels me weep
Are thirst and famine to my dearling fated.
Cease thou so doing while as modest rated,
Lest to thy will thou win—but …
Varus, yon wight Suffenus known to thee
Fairly for wit, free talk, urbanity,
The same who scribbles verse in amplest store—
Methinks he fathers thousands ten or more
Indited not as wont on palimpsest,
But paper-royal, brand-new boards, and best
Fresh bosses, crimson ribbands, sheets with lead
Ruled, and with pumice-powder all well polished.
These as thou readest, seem that fine, urbane
Suffenus, goat-herd mere, or ditcher-swain
Once more, such horrid change is there, so vile.
What must we wot thereof? a Droll erst while,
Or (if aught) cleverer, he with converse meets,
He now in dullness, dullest villain beats
Forthright on handling verse, nor is the wight
Ever so happy as when verse he write:
So self admires he with so full delight.
In sooth, we all thus err, nor man there be
But in some matter a Suffenus see
Thou canst: his lache allotted none shall lack
Yet spy we nothing of our back-borne pack.

> Latin: O Colonia, quae cupis ponte ludere longo,
et salire paratum habes, sed vereris inepta
crura ponticuli assulis stantis in redivivis,
ne supinus eat cavaque in palude recumbat,
sic tibi bonus ex tua pons libidine fiat,
in quo vel Salisubsili sacra suscipiantur,
munus hoc mihi maximi da, Colonia, risus.
quendam municipem meum de tuo volo ponte
ire praecipitem in lutum per caputque pedesque,
verum totius ut lacus putidaeque paludis
lividissima maximeque est profunda vorago.
insulsissimus est homo, nec sapit pueri instar
bimuli tremula patris dormientis in ulna:
cui cum sit viridissimo nupta flore puella
(et puella tenellulo delicatior haedo,
adservanda nigerrimis diligentius uvis),
ludere hanc sinit ut libet, nec pili facit uni,
nec se sublevat ex sua parte, sed velut alnus
in fossa Liguri iacet suppernata securi,
tantundem omnia sentiens quam si nulla sit usquam
talis iste meus stupor nil videt, nihil audit,
ipse qui sit, utrum sit an non sit, id quoque nescit.
nunc eum volo de tuo ponte mittere pronum,
si pote stolidum repente excitare veternum
et supinum animum in gravi derelinquere caeno,
ferream ut soleam tenaci in voragine mula.
Aureli, pater esuritionum,
non harum modo, sed quot aut fuerunt
aut sunt aut aliis erunt in annis,
pedicare cupis meos amores.
nec clam: nam simul es, iocaris una,
haerens ad latus omnia experiris.
frustra: nam insidias mihi instruentem
tangam te prior irrumatione.
atque id si faceres satur, tacerem:
nunc ipsum id doleo, quod esurire,
ah me me, puer et sitire discet.
quare desine, dum licet pudico,
ne finem facias, sed irrumatus.
Suffenus iste, Vare, quem probe nosti,
homo est venustus et dicax et urbanus,
idemque longe plurimos facit versus.
puto esse ego illi milia aut decem aut plura
perscripta, nec sic, ut fit, in palimpsesto
relata: chartae regiae, novi libri,
novi umbilici, lora, rubra membrana,
derecta plumbo et pumice omnia aequata.
haec cum legas tu, bellus ille et urbanus
Suffenus unus caprimulgus aut fossor
rursus videtur: tantum abhorret ac mutat.
hoc quid putemus esse? Qui modo scurra
aut si quid hac re tritius videbatur,
idem infaceto est infacetior rure
simul poemata attigit, neque idem unquam
aeque est beatus ac poema cum scribit:
tam gaudet in se tamque se ipse miratur.
nimirum idem omnes fallimur, neque est quisquam
quem non in aliqua re videre Suffenum
possis. Suus cuique attributus est error,
sed non videmus manticae quod in tergo est.

[¶18] Furius! Nor chest, nor slaves can claim,
Bug, Spider, nor e’e n hearth aflame,
Yet thine a sire and step-dame who
Wi’ tooth can ever flint-food chew!
So thou, and pleasant happy life
Lead wi’ thy parents wooden wife.
Nor be this marvel: hale are all,
Well ye digest; no fears appal
For household-arsons, heavy ruin,
Plunderings impious, poison-brewin’
Or other parlous case forlorn.
Your frames are hard and dried like horn,
Or if more arid aught ye know
By suns and frosts and hunger-throe.
Then why not happy as thou’rt hale?
Sweat’s strange to thee, spit fails, and fail
Phlegm and foul snivel from the nose.
Add cleanness that aye cleanlier shows
A bum than salt-pot cleanlier,
Nor ten times cack’st in total year,
And harder ’tis than pebble or bean
Which rubbed in hand or crumbled, e’en
On finger ne’er shall make unclean.
Such blessings (Furius!) such a prize
Never belittle nor despise;
Hundred sesterces seek no more
With wonted prayer—enow’s thy store!

> Latin: Furi, cui neque servus est neque arca
nec cimex neque araneus neque ignis,
verum est et pater et noverca, quorum
dentes vel silicem comesse possunt,
est pulchre tibi cum tuo parente
et cum coniuge lignea parentis.
nec mirum: bene nam valetis omnes,
pulchre concoquitis, nihil timetis,
non incendia, non graves ruinas,
non furta impia, non dolos veneni,
non casus alios periculorum.
atqui corpora sicciora cornu
aut si quid magis aridum est habetis
sole et frigore et esuritione.
quare non tibi sit bene ac beate?
a te sudor abest, abest saliva,
mucusque et mala pituita nasi.
hanc ad munditiem adde mundiorem,
quod culus tibi purior salillo est,
nec toto decies cacas in anno;
atque id durius est faba et lapillis,
quod tu si manibus teras fricesque,
non unquam digitum inquinare possis.
haec tu commoda tam beata, Furi,
noli spernere nec putare parvi,
et sestertia quae soles precari
centum desine: nam satis beatu's.

[¶19] O of Juventian youths the flowret fair
Not of these only, but of all that were
Or shall be, coming in the coming years,
Better waste Midas’ wealth (to me appears)
On him that owns nor slave nor money-chest
Than thou shouldst suffer by his love possest.
“What! is he vile or not fair?”“Yes!” I attest,
“Yet owns this man so comely neither slaves nor chest”
“My words disdain thou or accept at best”
“Yet neither slave he owns nor money-chest.”

> Latin: O qui flosculus es Iuventiorum,
non horum modo, sed quot aut fuerunt
aut posthac aliis erunt in annis,
mallem divitias Midae dedisses
isti cui neque servus est neque arca,
quam sic te sineres ab illo amari.
“quid? Non est homo bellus?” inquies. est:
sed bello huic neque servus est neque arca.
hoc tu quam libet abice elevaque:
nec servum tamen ille habet neque arcam.

[¶20] Thou bardache Thallus! more than Coney’s robe
Soft, or goose-marrow or ear’s lowmost lobe,
Or Age’s languid yard and cobweb’d part,
Same Thallus greedier than the gale thou art,
When the Kite-goddess shows thee Gulls agape,
Return my muffler thou hast dared to rape,
Saetaban napkins, tablets of Thynos, all
Which (Fool!) ancestral heirlooms thou didst call.
These now unglueing from thy claws restore,
Lest thy soft hands, and floss-like flanklets score
The burning scourges, basely signed and lined,
And thou unwonted toss like wee barque tyned
’Mid vasty Ocean vexed by madding wind!

> Latin: Cinaede Thalle, mollior cuniculi capillo
vel anseris medullula vel imula auricilla
vel pene languido senis situque araneoso,
idemque Thalle turbida rapacior procella,
cum † diva mulier aries ostendit oscitantes,
remitte pallium mihi meum quod involasti
sudariumque Saetabum catagraphosque Thynos,
inepte, quae palam soles habere tanquam avita.
quae nunc tuis ab unguibus reglutina et remitte,
ne laneum latusculum manusque mollicellas
inusta turpiter tibi flagella conscribillent,
et insolenter aestues velut minuta magno
deprensa navis in mari vesaniente vento.

[¶21] Furius! our Villa never Austral force
Broke, neither set thereon Favonius’ course,
Nor savage Boreas, nor Epeliot’s strain,
But fifteen thousand crowns and hundreds twain
Wreckt it, —Oh ruinous by-wind, breezy bane!

> Latin: Furi, villula vestra non ad Austri
flatus opposita est neque ad Favoni
nec saevi Boreae aut Apeliotae,
verum ad milia quindecim et ducentos.
o ventum horribilem atque pestilentem!

[¶22] Thou youngling drawer of Falernian old
Crown me the goblets with a bitterer wine
As was Postumia’s law that rules the feast
Than ebriate grape-stone more inebriate.
But ye fare whither please ye (water-nymphs!)
To wine pernicious, and to sober folk
Migrate ye: mere Thyonian juice be here!

> Latin: Minister vetuli puer Falerni
inger mi calices amariores,
ut lex Postumiae iubet magistrae,
ebrioso acino ebriosioris.
at vos quo libet hinc abite, lymphae,
vini pernicies, et ad severos
migrate: hic merus est Thyonianus.

[¶23] Followers of Piso, empty band
With your light budgets packt to hand,
Veránius best! Fabúllus mine!
What do ye? Bore ye enough, in fine
Of frost and famine with yon sot?
What loss or gain have haply got
Your tablets? so, whenas I ranged
With Praetor, gains for loss were changed.
“O Memmius! thou did’st long and late”
“… me supine slow and … ”
But (truly see I) in such case
Diddled you were by wight as base
Sans mercy. Noble friends go claim!
Now god and goddess give you grame
Disgrace of Romulus! Remus’ shame!

> Latin: Pisonis comites, cohors inanis
aptis sarcinulis et expeditis,
Verani optime tuque mi Fabulle,
quid rerum geritis? Satisne cum isto
vappa frigoraque et famem tulistis?
ecquidnam in tabulis patet lucelli
expensum, ut mihi, qui meum secutus
praetorem refero datum lucello,
“o Memmi, bene me ac diu supinum”
“tota ista trabe lentus irrumasti.”
sed, quantum video, pari fuistis
casu: nam nihilo minore verpa
farti estis. pete nobiles amicos.
at vobis mala multa di deaeque
dent, opprobria Romuli Remique.

[¶24] Who e’er could witness this (who could endure
Except the lewdling, dicer, greedy-gut)
That should Mamurra get what hairy Gaul
And all that farthest Britons held whilòme?
(Thou bardache Romulus!) this wilt see and bear?
Then art a lewdling, dicer, greedy-gut!
He now superb with pride superfluous
Shall go perambulate the bedrooms all
Like white-robed dovelet or Adonis-love.
Romulus thou bardache! this wilt see and bear?
Then art a lewdling, dicer, greedy-gut!
Is’t for such like name, sole Emperor thou!
Thou soughtest extreme Occidental Isle?
That this your … Mentula
Millions and Milliards might at will absorb?
What is’t but Liberality misplaced?
What trifles wasted he, small heirlooms spent?
First his paternal goods were clean dispersed;
Second went Pontus’ spoils and for the third,—
Ebro-land,—weets it well gold-rolling Tage.
Fear him the Gallias? Him the Britons’ fear?
Why cherish this ill-wight? what ’vails he do?
Save fat paternal heritage devour?
Lost ye for such a name, o puissant pair
(Father and Son-in-law), our all-in-all?

> Latin: Quis hoc potest videre, quis potest pati,
nisi impudicus et vorax et aleo,
Mamurram habere quod comata Gallia
habebat ante et ultima Britannia?
Cinaede Romule, haec videbis et feres?
et ille nunc superbus et superfluens
perambulabit omnium cubilia
ut albulus columbus aut Adoneus?
cinaede Romule, haec videbis et feres?
es impudicus et vorax et aleo.
eone nomine, imperator unice,
fuisti in ultima occidentis insula,
ut ista vestra diffututa mentula
ducenties comesset aut trecenties?
quid est alid sinistra liberalitas?
parum expatravit an parum elluatus est?
paterna prima lancinata sunt bona;
secunda praeda Pontica; inde tertia
Hibera, quam scit amnis aurifer Tagus.
nunc Galliae timetur et Britanniae.
quid hunc malum fovetis? aut quid hic potest
nisi uncta devorare patrimonia?
eone nomine † urbis opulentissime
socer generque, perdidistis omnia?

[¶25] Alfénus! short of memory, false to comrades dearest-dear,
Now hast no pity (hardened Soul!) for friend and loving fere?
Now to betray me, now to guile. thou (traitor!) ne’er dost pause?
Yet impious feats of fraudful men ne’er force the Gods’ applause:
When heed’st thou not deserting me (Sad me!) in sorest scathe,
Ah say whate’er shall humans do? in whom shall man show faith?
For sure thou bad’st me safely yield my spirit (wretch!) to thee,
Lulling my love as though my life were all security.
The same now dost withdraw thyself and every word and deed
Thou suffer’st winds and airy clouds to sweep fromout thy head.
But an forget thou, mindful be the Gods, and Faith in mind
Bears thee, and soon shall gar thee rue the deeds by thee design’d.

> Latin: Alfene immemor atque unanimis false sodalibus,
iam te nil miseret, dure, tui dulcis amiculi?
iam me prodere, iam non dubitas fallere, perfide?
nec facta impia fallacum hominum caelicolis placent;
quae tu neglegis, ac me miserum deseris in malis.
eheu, quid faciant, dic, homines, cuive habeant fidem?
certe tute iubebas animam tradere, inique, me
inducens in amorem, quasi tuta omnia mi forent.
idem nunc retrahis te ac tua dicta omnia factaque
ventos irrita ferre ac nebulas aerias sinis.
si tu oblitus es, at di meminerunt, meminit Fides,
quae te ut paeniteat postmodo facti faciet tui.

[¶26] Sirmio! of Islands and Peninsulas
Eyelet, and whatsoe’er in limpid meres
And vasty Ocean either Neptune owns,
Thy scenes how willing-glad once more I see,
At pain believing Thynia and the Fields
Bithynian left, I’m safe to sight thy Site.
Oh what more blessèd be than cares resolved,
When mind casts burthen and by peregrine
Work over wearied, lief we hie us home
To lie reposing in the longed-for bed!
This be the single meed for toils so triste.
Hail, O fair Sirmio, in thy lord rejoice:
And ye, O’ waves of Lybian Lake be glad,
And laugh what laughter pealeth in my home.

> Latin: Paene insularum, Sirmio, insularumque
ocelle, quascumque in liquentibus stagnis
marique vasto fert uterque Neptunus,
quam te libenter quamque laetus inviso,
vix mi ipse credens Thyniam atque Bithynos
liquisse campos et videre te in tuto!
o quid solutis est beatius curis,
cum mens onus reponit, ac peregrino
labore fessi venimus larem ad nostrum
desideratoque adquiescimus lecto?
hoc est quod unum est pro laboribus tantis.
salve, o venusta Sirmio, atque ero gaude;
gaudete vosque, o Lydiae lacus undae;
ridete, quidquid est domi cachinnorum.

[¶27] ILL love my Ipsithilla sweetest,
My desires and my Wit the meetest,
So bid me join thy nap o’ noon!
Then (after bidding) add the boon
Undraw thy threshold-bolt none dare,
Lest thou be led afar to fare;
Nay bide at home, for us prepare
Nine-fold continuous love-delights.
But aught do thou to hurry things,
For dinner-full I lie aback,
And gown and tunic through I crack.

> Latin: Amabo, mea dulcis Ipsithilla,
meae deliciae, mei lepores,
iube ad te veniam meridiatum.
et si iusseris illud, adiuvato,
ne quis liminis obseret tabellam,
neu tibi libeat foras abire;
sed domi maneas paresque nobis
novem continuas fututiones.
verum, si quid ages, statim iubeto:
nam pransus iaceo et satur supinus
pertundo tunicamque palliumque.

[¶28] OH, best of robbers who in Baths delight,
Vibennius, sire and son, the Ingle hight,
(For that the father’s hand be fouler one
And with his anus greedier is the Son)
Why not to banishment and evil hours
Haste ye, when all the parent’s plundering powers
Are public knowledge, nor canst gain a Cent
Son! by the vending of thy pilèd vent.

> Latin: O furum optime balneariorum
Vibenni pater, et cinaede fili,
(nam dextra pater inquinatiore,
culo filius est voraciore)
cur non exsilium malasque in oras
itis, quandoquidem patris rapinae
notae sunt populo, et natis pilosas,
fili, non potes asse venditare?

[¶29] Diana’s faith inbred we bear
Youths whole of heart and maidens fair,
Let boys no blemishes impair,
And girls of Dian sing!
O great Latonian progeny,
Of greatest Jove descendancy,
Whom mother bare ’neath olive-tree,
Deep in the Delian dell;
That of the mountains reign thou Queen
And forest ranges ever green,
And coppices by man unseen,
And rivers resonant.
Thou art Lucína, Juno hight
By mothers lien in painful plight,
Thou puissant Trivia and the Light
Bastard, yclept the Lune.
Thou goddess with thy monthly stage,
The yearly march doth mete and guage
An d rustic peasant’s messuage,
Dost brim with best o’ crops,
Be hailed by whatso name of grace,
Please thee and olden Romulus’ race,
Thy wonted favour deign embrace,
And save with choicest aid.

> Latin: Dianae sumus in fide
puellae et pueri integri;
Dianam pueri integri
puellaeque canamus.
O Latonia, maximi
magna progenies Iovis,
quam mater prope Deliam
deposivit olivam,
montium domina ut fores
silvarumque virentium
saltuumque reconditorum
amniumque sonantum;
tu Lucina dolentibus
Iuno dicta puerperis,
tu potens Trivia et notho es
dicta lumine Luna.
tu cursu, dea, menstruo
metiens iter annuum
rustica agricolae bonis
tecta frugibus exples.
sis quocumque tibi placet
sancta nomine, Romulique,
antique ut solita es, bona
sospites ope gentem.

[¶30] Now to that tender bard, my Comrade fair,
(Cecilius) say I, “Paper go, declare,”
“Verona must we make and bid to New”
“Comum’s town-walls and Larian Shores adieu;”
For I determined certain fancies he
Accept from mutual friend to him and me.
Wherefore he will, if wise, devour the way,
Though the blonde damsel thousand times essay
Recall his going and with arms a-neck
A-winding would e’er seek his course to check;
A girl who (if the truth be truly told)
Dies of a hopeless passion uncontroul’d;
For since the doings of the Díndymus-dame,
By himself storied, she hath read, a flame
Wasting her inmost marrow-core hath burned.
I pardon thee, than Sapphic Muse more learn’d,
Damsel: for truly sung in sweetest lays
Was by Cecilius Magna Mater’s praise.

> Latin: Poetae tenero, meo sodali
velim Caecilio, papyre, dicas,
Veronam veniat, Novi relinquens
Comi moenia Lariumque litus:
nam quasdam volo cogitationes
amici accipiat sui meique.
quare, si sapiet, viam vorabit,
quamvis candida milies puella
euntem revocet manusque collo
ambas iniciens roget morari,
quae nunc, si mihi vera nuntiantur,
illum deperit impotente amore:
nam quo tempore legit incohatam
Dindymi dominam, ex eo misellae
ignes interiorem edunt medullam.
ignosco tibi, Sapphica puella
Musa doctior: est enim venuste
Magna Caecilio incohata Mater.

[¶31] Volusius’ Annals, paper scum-bewrayed!
Fulfil that promise erst my damsel made;
Who vowed to Holy Venus and her son,
Cupid, should I return to her anon
And cease to brandish iamb-lines accurst,
The writ selected erst of bards the worst
She to the limping Godhead would devote
With slowly-burning wood of illest note.
This was the vilest which my girl could find
With vow facetious to the Gods assigned.
Now, O Creation of the azure sea,
Holy Idalium, Urian havenry
Haunting, Ancona, Cnidos’ reedy site,
Amathus, Golgos, and the tavern hight
Durrachium-thine Adrian abode—
The vow accepting, recognize the vowed
As not unworthy and unhandsome naught.
But do ye meanwhile to the fire be brought,
That teem with boorish jest of sorry blade,
Volusius’ Annals, paper scum-bewrayed.

> Latin: Annales Volusi, cacata charta,
votum solvite pro mea puella:
nam sanctae Veneri Cupidinique
vovit, si sibi restitutus essem
desissemque truces vibrare iambos,
electissima pessimi poetae
scripta tardipedi deo daturam
infelicibus ustilanda lignis.
et hoc pessima se puella vidit
iocose lepide vovere divis.
nunc, o caeruleo creata ponto,
quae sanctum Idalium Uriosque apertos,
quaeque Ancona Cnidumque harundinosam
colis, quaeque Amathunta, quaeque Golgos,
quaeque Durrachium Hadriae tabernam,
acceptum face redditumque votum,
si non inlepidum neque invenustum est.
at vos interea venite in ignem,
pleni ruris et inficetiarum
Annales Volusi, cacata charta.

[¶32] Salacious Tavern and ye taverner-host,
From Pileate Brothers the ninth pile-post,
D’ye claim, you only of the, mentule boast,
D’ye claim alone what damsels be the best
To swive: as he-goats holding all the rest?
Is’t when like boobies sit ye incontinent here,
One or two hundred, deem ye that I fear
Two hundred … at one brunt?
Ay, think so, natheless all your tavern-front
With many a scorpion I will over-write.
For that my damsel, fro’ my breast took flight,
By me so lovèd, as shall loved be none,
Wherefor so mighty wars were waged and won,
Does sit in public here. Ye fain, rich wights,
All woo her: thither too (the chief of slights!)
All pitiful knaves and by-street wenchers fare,
And thou, (than any worse), with hanging hair,
In coney-breeding Celtiberia bred,
Egnatius! bonnified by beard full-fed,
And teeth with Spanish urine polishèd.

> Latin: Salax taberna vosque contubernales,
a pilleatis nona fratribus pila,
solis putatis esse mentulas vobis,
solis licere quidquid est puellarum
confutuere et putare ceteros hircos?
an, continenter quod sedetis insulsi
centum an ducenti, non putatis ausurum
me una ducentos irrumare sessores?
atqui putate: namque totius vobis
frontem tabernae sopionibus scribam.
puella nam mi, quae meo sinu fugit,
amata tantum quantum amabitur nulla,
pro qua mihi sunt magna bella pugnata,
consedit istic. hanc boni beatique
omnes amatis, et quidem, quod indignum est,
omnes pusilli et semitarii moechi:
tu praeter omnes une de capillatis,
cuniculosae Celtiberiae fili,
Egnati, opaca quem bonum facit barba
et dens Hibera defricatus urina.

[¶33] Cornificius!’Tis ill with thy Catullus,’Tis ill (by Hercules) distressfully:
Iller and iller every day and hour.
Whose soul (as smallest boon and easiest)
With what of comfort hast thou deign’d console?
Wi’ thee I’m angered! Dost so prize my love?
Yet some consoling utterance had been well
Though sadder ’twere than Simonídean tears.

> Latin: Male est, Cornifici, tuo Catullo,
male est me hercule ei et laboriose,
et magis magis in dies et horas.
quem tu, quod minimum facillimumque est,
qua solatus es adlocutione?
irascor tibi.sic meos amores?
paulum quid libet adlocutionis,
maestius lacrimis Simonideis.

[¶34] Egnatius for that owns he teeth snow-white,
Grins ever, everywhere. When placed a wight
In dock, when pleader would draw tears, the while
He grins. When pious son at funeral pile
Mourns, or lone mother sobs for sole lost son,
He grins. Whate’er, whene’er, howe’er is done,
Of deed he grins. Such be his malady,
Nor kind, nor courteous-so beseemeth me—
Then take thou good Egnatius, rede of mine!
Wert Thou Corrupt Sabine Or A Tiburtine,
Stuffed Umbrian or Tuscan overgrown
Swarthy Lanuvian with his teeth-rows shown,
Transpadan also, that mine own I touch,
Or any washing teeth to shine o’er much,
Yet thy incessant grin I would not see,
For naught than laughter silly sillier be.
Thou Celtiber art, in Celtiberia born,
Where man who’s urined therewith loves a-morn
His teeth and ruddy gums to scour and score;
So the more polisht are your teeth, the more
Argue they sipping stale in ampler store.

> Latin: Egnatius, quod candidos habet dentes,
renidet usque quaque.si ad rei ventum est
subsellium, cum orator excitat fletum,
renidet ille. si ad pii rogum fili
lugetur, orba cum flet unicum mater,
renidet ille.quidquid est, ubicumque est,
quodcumque agit, renidet.hunc habet morbum
neque elegantem, ut arbitror, neque urbanum.
quare monendum est te mihi, bone Egnati.
si urbanus esses aut Sabinus aut Tiburs
aut parcus Umber aut obesus Etruscus
aut Lanuvinus ater atque dentatus
aut Transpadanus, ut meos quoque attingam,
aut qui libet qui puriter lavit dentes,
tamen renidere usque quaque te nollem;
nam risu inepto res ineptior nulla est.
nunc Celtiber es: Celtiberia in terra,
quod quisque minxit, hoc sibi solet mane
dentem atque russam defricare gingivam,
ut quo iste vester expolitior dens est,
hoc te amplius bibisse praedicet loti.

[¶35] What thought of folly Rávidus (poor churl!)
Upon my iambs thus would headlong hurl?
What good or cunning counsellor would fain
Urge thee to struggle in such strife insane?
Is’t that the vulgar mouth thy name by rote?
What will’st thou? Wishest on any wise such note?
Then shalt be noted since my love so lief
For love thou sued’st to thy lasting grief.

> Latin: Quaenam te mala mens, miselle Ravide,
agit praecipitem in meos iambos?
quis deus tibi non bene advocatus
vecordem parat excitare rixam?
an ut pervenias in ora vulgi?
quid vis? qua libet esse notus optas?
eris, quandoquidem meos amores
cum longa voluisti amare poena.

[¶36] That Ametina, worn-out whore,
Me for a myriad oft would bore,
That strumpet of th’ ignoble nose,
To leman, rakehell Formian chose.
An ye would guard her (kinsmen folk)
Your friends and leaches d’ye convoke:
The girl’s not sound-sens’d; ask ye naught
Of her complaint: she’s love-distraught.

> Latin: Ameana puella defututa
tota milia me decem poposcit,
ista turpiculo puella naso,
decoctoris amica Formiani.
propinqui, quibus est puella curae,
amicos medicosque convocate:
non est sana puella, nec rogare
qualis sit solet aes imaginosum.