The Carmina of Caius Valerius Catullus
We, maids and upright youths, are in Diana's care: upright youths and maids, we sing Diana.
That when, opprest by fortune and in grievous case, thou didst send me this epistle o'erwrit with tears, that I might bear up shipwrecked thee tossed by the foaming waves of the sea, and restore thee from the threshold of death; thou whom neither sacred Venus suffers to repose in soft slumber, desolate on a a lonely couch, nor do the Muses divert with the sweet song of ancient poets, whilst thy anxious mind keeps vigil:- this is grateful to me, since thou dost call me thy friend, and dost seek hither the gifts of the Muses and of Venus. But that my troubles may not be unknown to thee, O Manius, nor thou deem I shun the office of host, hear how I am whelmed in the waves of that same fortune, nor further seek joyful gifts from a wretched one. In that time when the white vestment was first handed to me, and my florid age was passing in jocund spring, much did I sport enow: nor was the goddess unknown to us who mixes bitter-sweet with our cares. But my brother's death plunged all this pursuit into mourning. O brother, taken from my unhappy self; thou by thy dying hast broken my ease, O brother; all our house is buried with thee; with thee have perished the whole of our joys, which thy sweet love nourished in thy lifetime. Thou lost, I have dismissed wholly from mind these studies and every delight of mind. Wherefore, as to what thou writest, "'Tis shameful for Catullus to be at Verona, for there anyone of utmost note must chafe his frigid limbs on a desolate couch;" that, Manius, is not shameful; rather 'tis a pity. Therefore, do thou forgive, if what grief has snatched from me, these gifts, I do not bestow on thee, because I am unable. For, that there is no great store of writings with me arises from this, that we live at Rome: there is my home, there is my hall, thither my time is passed; hither but one of my book-cases follows me. As 'tis thus, I would not that thou deem we act so from ill-will or from a mind not sufficiently ingenuous, that ample store is not forthcoming to either of thy desires: both would I grant, had I the wherewithal. Nor can I conceal, goddesses, in what way Allius has aided me, or with how many good offices he has assisted me; nor shall fleeting time with its forgetful centuries cover with night's blindness this care of his. But I tell it to you, and do ye declare it to many thousands, and make this paper, grown old, speak of it * * * * And let him be more and more noted when dead, nor let the spider aloft, weaving her thin-drawn web, carry on her work over the neglected name of Allius. For you know what anxiety of mind wily Amathusia gave me, and in what manner she overthrew me, when I was burning like the Trinacrian rocks, or the Malian fount in Oetaean Thermopylae; nor did my piteous eyes cease to dissolve with continual weeping, nor my cheeks with sad showers to be bedewed. As the pellucid stream gushes forth from the moss-grown rock on the aerial crest of the mountain, which when it has rolled headlong prone down the valley, softly wends its way through the midst of the populous parts, sweet solace to the wayfarer sweating with weariness, when the oppressive heat cracks the burnt-up fields agape: or, as to sailors tempest-tossed in black whirlpool, there cometh a favourable and a gently-moving breeze, Pollux having been prayed anon, and Castor alike implored: of such kind was Manius' help to us. He with a wider limit laid open my closed field; he gave us a home and its mistress, on whom we both might exercise our loves in common. Thither with gracious gait my bright-hued goddess betook herself, and pressed her shining sole on the worn threshold with creaking of sandal; as once came Laodamia, flaming with love for her consort, to the home of Protesilaus - a beginning of naught! for not yet with sacred blood had a victim made propitiate the lords of the heavens. May nothing please me so greatly, Rhamnusian virgin, that I should act thus heedlessly against the will of those lords! How the thirsty altar craves for sacrificial blood Laodamia was taught by the loss of her husband, being compelled to abandon the neck of her new spouse when one winter was past, before another winter had come, in whose long nights she might so glut her greedy love, that she could have lived despite her broken marriage-yoke, which the Parcae knew would not be long distant, if her husband as soldier should fare to the Ilian walls. For by Helena's rape Troy had begun to put the Argive Chiefs in the field; Troy accurst, the common grave of Asia and of Europe, Troy, the sad ashes of heroes and of every noble deed, that also lamentably brought death to our brother. O brother taken from unhappy me! O jocund light taken from thy unhappy brother! in thy one grave lies all our house, in thy one grave have perished all our joys, which thy sweet love did nurture during life. Whom now is laid so far away, not amongst familiar tombs nor near the ashes of his kindred, but obscene Troy, malign Troy, an alien earth, holds thee entombed in its remote soil. Thither, 'tis said, hastening together from all parts, the Grecian manhood forsook their hearths and homes, lest Paris enjoy his abducted trollop with freedom and leisure in a peaceful bed. Such then was thy case, loveliest Laodamia, to be bereft of husband sweeter than life, and than soul; thou being sucked in so great a whirlpool of love, its eddy submerged thee in its steep abyss, like (so folk say) to the Graian gulph near Pheneus of Cyllene with its fat swamp's soil drained and dried, which aforetime the falsely-born Amphitryoniades dared to hew through the marrow of cleft mountains, at the time when he smote down the Stymphalian monsters with sure shafts by the command of his inferior lord, so that the heavenly portal might be pressed by a greater number of deities, nor Hebe longer remain in her virginity. But deeper than that abyss was thy deep love which taught [thy husband] to bear his lady's forceful yoke. For not so dear to the spent age of the grandsire is the late born grandchild an only daughter rears, who, long-wished-for, at length inherits the ancestral wealth, his name duly set down in the attested tablets; and casting afar the impious hopes of the baffled next-of-kin, scares away the vulture from the whitened head; nor so much does any dove-mate rejoice in her snow-white consort (though, 'tis averred, more shameless than most in continually plucking kisses with nibbling beak) as thou dost, though woman is especially inconstant. But thou alone didst surpass the great frenzies of these, when thou wast once united to thy yellow-haired husband. Worthy to yield to whom in naught or in little, my light brought herself to my bosom, round whom Cupid, often running hither thither, gleamed lustrous-white in saffron-tinted tunic. Still although she is not content with Catullus alone, we will suffer the rare frailties of our coy lady, lest we may be too greatly unbearable, after the manner of fools. Often even Juno, greatest of heaven-dwellers, boiled with flaring wrath at her husband's default, wotting the host of frailties of all-wishful Jove. Yet 'tis not meet to match men with the gods, * * * * bear up the ungrateful burden of a tremulous parent. Yet she was not handed to me by a father's right hand when she came to my house fragrant with Assyrian odour, but she gave me her stealthy favours in the mute night, withdrawing of her own will from the bosom of her spouse. Wherefore that is enough if to us alone she gives that day which she marks with a whiter stone. This gift to thee, all that I can, of verse completed, is requital, Allius, for many offices, so that this day and that, and other and other of days may not tarnish your name with scabrous rust. Hither may the gods add gifts full many, which Themis aforetimes was wont to bear to the pious of old. May ye be happy, both thou and thy life's-love together, and thy home in which we have sported, and its mistress, and Anser who in the beginning brought thee to us, from whom all my good fortunes were first born, and lastly she whose very self is dearer to me than all these - my light, whom living, 'tis sweet to me to live.