The Poems and Fragments of Catullus Part 15

'Tis not enough so merely to say, so think to decide it. 15 Better, who wills should feel, see it, who wills, to be true.

DOOR.

How then? if here none asks, nor labours any to know it.

CATULLUS.

Nay, _I_ ask it; away scruple; your hearer is I.

DOOR.

First, what rumour avers, they gave her to us a virgin-- They lie on her. A light lady! be sure, not alone 20 Clipp'd her an husband first; weak stalk from a garden, a pointless Falchion, a heart did ne'er fully to courage awake.

No; to the son's own bed, 'tis said, that father ascended, Vilely; with act impure stain'd the facinorous house.

Whether a blind fierce l.u.s.t in his heart burnt sinfully flaming, 25 Or that inert that son's vigour, amort to delight, Needed a st.u.r.dier arm, that franker quality somewhere, Looser of youth's fast-bound girdle, a virgin as yet.

CATULLUS.

Truly a n.o.ble father, a glorious act of affection!

Thus in a son's kind sheets lewdly to puddle, his own. 30

DOOR.

Yet not alone of this, her crag Chinaean abiding Under, a watch-tower set warily, Brixia tells, Brixia, trails whereby his waters Mella the golden, Mother of her, mine own city, Verona the fair.

Add Postumius yet, Cornelius also, a twice-told 35 Folly, with whom our light mistress adultery knew.

Asks some questioner here "What? a door, yet privy to lewdness?

You, from your owner's gate never a minute away?

Strange to the talk o' the town? since here, stout timber above you, Hung to the beam, you shut mutely or open again." 40 Many a shameful time I heard her stealthy profession, While to the maids her guilt softly she hinted alone.

Spoke unabash'd her amours and named them singly, opining Haply an ear to record fail'd me, a voice to reveal.

There was another; enough; his name I gladly dissemble; 45 Lest his lifted brows blush a disorderly rage.

Sir, 'twas a long lean suitor; a process huge had a.s.sail'd him; 'Twas for a pregnant womb falsely declar'd to be true.

LXVIII.

If, when fortune's wrong with bitter misery whelms thee, Thou thy sad tear-scrawl'd letter, a mark to the storm, Send'st, and bid'st me to succour a stranded seaman of Ocean, Toss'd in foam, from death's door to return thee again; Whom nor softly to rest love's tender sanct.i.ty suffers, 5 Lost on a couch of lone slumber, unhappily lain; Nor with melody sweet of poets h.o.a.ry the Muses Cheer, while worn with grief nightly the soul is awake: Well-contented am I, that thou thy friendship avowest, Ask'st the delights of love from me, the pleasure of hymns; 10 Yet lest all unnoted a kindred story bely thee, Deeming, Mallius, I calls of humanity shun; Hear what a grief is mine, what storm of destiny whelms me.

Cease to demand of a soul's misery joy's sacrifice.

Once, what time white robes of manhood first did array me, 15 Whiles in jollity life sported a spring holiday, Youth ran riot enow; right well she knows me, the G.o.ddess, She whose honey delights blend with a bitter annoy.

Henceforth dies sweet pleasure, in anguish lost of a brother's Funeral. O poor soul, brother, O heavily ta'en, 20 You all happier hours, you, dying brother, effaced; All our house lies low mournfully buried in you; Quench'd untimely with you joy waits not ever a morrow, Joy which alive your love's bounty fed hour upon hour; Now, since thou liest dead, heart-banish'd wholly desert me 25 Vanities all, each gay freak of a riotous heart.

How then obey? You write 'Let not Verona, Catullus, Stay thee, if here each proud quality, Rome's eminence, Freely the light limbs warms thou leavest coldly to languish,'

Infamy lies not there, Mallius, only regret. 30 So forgive me, if I, whom grief so rudely bereaveth, Deal not a joy myself know not, a beggar in all.

Books--if they're but scanty, a store full meagre, around me, Rome is alone my life's centre, a mansion of home, Rome my abode, house, hearth; there wanes and waxes a life's span; 35 Hither of all those choice cases attends me but one.

Therefore deem not thou aught spiteful bids me deny thee; Say not 'his heart is false, haply, to jealousy leans,'

If nor books I send nor flatter sorrow to silence.

Trust me, were either mine, either unask'd should appear. 40

G.o.ddesses, hide I may not in how great trial upheld me Allius, how no faint charities held me to life.

Nor shall time borne fleetly nor years' oblivion ever Make such zeal to the night fade, to the darkness, away.

As from me you learn it, of you shall many a thousand 45 Learn it again. Grow old, scroll, to declare it anew.

So to the dead increase honour in year upon year. 50 Nor to the spider, aloft her silk-slight flimsiness hanging, Allius aye unswept moulder, a memory dim. (50)

Well you wot, how sore the deceit Amathusia wrought me, Well what a thing in love's treachery made me to fall; Ready to burst in flame, as burn Trinacrian embers, 55 Burn near Thermopylae's Oeta the fiery springs.

Sad, these piteous eyes did waste all wearily weeping, (55) Sad, these cheeks did rain ceaseless a showery woe.

Wakeful, as hill-born brook, which, afar off silvery gleaming, O'er his moss-grown crags leaps with a tumble adown; 60 Brook which awhile headlong o'er steep and valley descending, Crosses anon wide ways populous, hastes to the street; (60) Cheerer in heats o' the sun to the wanderer heavily fuming, Under a drought, when fields swelter agape to the sky.

Then as tossing shipmen amid black surges of Ocean, 65 See some prosperous air gently to calm them arise, Safe thro' Pollux' aid or Castor, alike entreated; (65) Mallius e'en such help brought me, a warder of harm.

He in a closed field gave scope of liberal entry; Gave me an house of love, gave me the lady within, 70 Busily there to renew love's even duty together; Thither afoot mine own mistress, a deity bright, (70) Came, and planted firm her sole most sunny; beneath her Lightly the polish'd floor creak'd to the sandal again.

So with pa.s.sion aflame came wistful Laodamia 75 Into her husband's home, Protesilaus, of yore; Home o'er-lightly begun, ere slaughter'd victim atoning (75) Waited of heaven's high-thron'd company grace to agree.

Nought be to me so dear, O Maid Ramnusian, ever, I should against that law match me with opposite, I. 80 Bloodless of high sacrifice, how thirsts each desolate altar!

This, when her husband fell, Laodamia did heed, (80) Rapt from a bridegroom new, from his arms forced early to part her.

Early; for hardly the first winter, another again, Yet in many a night's long dream had sated her yearning, 85 So that love might wear cheerly, the master away; Which not long should abide, so presag'd surely the Parcae, (85) If to the wars her lord hurry, for Ilion arm.

Now to revenge fair Helen, had Argos' chiefs, her puissance, Set them afield; for Troy rous'd them, a cry not of home, 90 Troy, dark death universal, of Asia grave and Europe, Altar of heroes Troy, Troy of heroical acts, (90)

Now to my own dear brother abhorred worker of ancient Death. Ah woeful soul, brother, unhappily lost, Ah fair light unblest, in darkness sadly receding, 95 All our house lies low, brother, inearthed in you, Quench'd untimely with you, joy waits not ever a morrow, (95) Joy which alive your love's bounty fed hour upon hour.

Now on a distant sh.o.r.e, no kind mortality near him, Far all household love, every familiar urn, 100 Tomb'd in Troy the malign, in Troy the unholy reposing, Strangely the land's last verge holds him, a dungeon of earth. (100)

Thither in haste all Greece, one armed people a.s.sembling, Flock'd on an ancient day, left the recesses of home, Lest in a safe content, unreach'd, his stolen adultress. 105 Paris inarm, in soft luxury quietly lain.

E'en such chance, fair queen, such misery, Laodamia, (105) Brought thee a loss as life precious, as heavenly breath.

Loss of a bridegroom dear; such whirling pa.s.sion in eddies Suck'd thee adown, so drew sheer to a sudden abyss, 110 Deep as Graian abyss near Pheneos o'er Cyllene, Strainer of ooze impure milk'd from a watery fen; (110) Hewn, so stories avouch, in a mountain's kernel; an hero Hew'd it, falsely declar'd Amphytrionian, he, When those monster birds near grim Stymphalus his arrow 115 Smote to the death; such task bade him a dastardly lord.

So that another G.o.d might tread that portal of heaven (115) Freely, nor Hebe fair wither a chaste eremite.

Yet than abyss more deep thy love, thy depth of emotion; Love which school'd thy lord, made of a master a thrall. 120

Not to a grandsire old so priz'd, so lovely the grandson One dear daughter alone rears i' the soft of his years; (120) He, long-wish'd for, an heir of wealth ancestral arriving,-- Scarcely the tablets' marge holds him, a name to the will, Straight all hopes laugh'd down, each baffled kinsman usurping 125 Leaves to repose white hairs, stretches, a vulture, away; Not in her own fond mate so turtle snowy delighteth, (125) Tho' unabash'd, 'tis said, she the voluptuous hours s.n.a.t.c.hes a thousand kisses, in amorous extasy biting.

Yet, more lightly than all ranges a womanly will. 130 Great their love, their frenzy; but all their frenzy before thee Fail'd, once clasp'd thy lord splendid in aureat hair. (130)

Worthy in all or part thee, Laodamia, to rival, Sought me my own sweet love, journey'd awhile to my arms.

Round her playing oft ran Cupid thither or hither, 135 l.u.s.trous, array'd in bright broidery, saffron of hue.

What, to Catullus alone if a wayward fancy resort not? (135) Must I pale for a stray frailty, the shame of an hour?

Nay; lest all too much such jealous folly provoke her.

Juno's self, a supreme glory celestial, oft 140 Crushes her eager rage, in wedlock-injury flaring, Knowing yet right well Jove, what a losel is he. (140)

Yet, for a man with G.o.ds shall never lawfully match him . . . . . . . . . .

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