Chapter 3

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 invenustast. 5 Non credis mihi? crede Polioni Fratri, qui tua furta vel talento Mutari velit: est enim leporum Disertus puer ac facetiarum. Quare aut hendecasyllabos trecentos 10 Expecta aut mihi linteum remitte, Quod me non movet aestimatione, Verumst mnemosynum mei sodalis. Nam sudaria Saetaba ex Hibereis Miserunt mihi muneri Fabullus 15 Et Veranius: haec amem necessest Vt Veraniolum meum et Fabullum.

XII.

TO M. ASINIUS WHO STOLE NAPERY.

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. 5 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 10 Therefore expect thou, or return forthright Linens whose loss affects me not for worth But as mementoes of a comrade mine. For napkins Sætaban from Ebro-land Fabúllus sent me a free-giftie given 15 Also Veránius: these perforce I love E'en as my Veraniólus and Fabúllus.

Marrucinius Asinius, thou dost use thy left hand in no fair fashion 'midst the jests and wine: thou dost filch away the napkins of the heedless. Dost thou think this a joke? it flies thee, stupid fool, how coarse a thing and unbecoming 'tis! Dost not credit me? credit thy brother Pollio who would willingly give a talent to divert thee from thy thefts: for he is a lad skilled in pleasantries and facetiousness. Wherefore, either expect hendecasyllables three hundred, or return me my napkin which I esteem, not for its value but as a pledge of remembrance from my comrade. For Fabullus and Veranius sent me as a gift handkerchiefs from Iberian Saetabis; these must I prize e'en as I do Veraniolus and Fabullus.

XIII.

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. 5 Haec si, inquam, attuleris, venuste noster, Cenabis bene: nam tui Catulli Plenus sacculus est aranearum. Sed contra accipies meros amores Seu quid suavius elegantiusvest: 10 Nam unguentum dabo, quod meae puellae Donarunt Veneres Cupidinesque, Quod tu cum olfacies, deos rogabis, Totum ut te faciant, Fabulle, nasum.

XIII.

FABULLUS IS INVITED TO A POET'S SUPPER.

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. 5 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 mere loves shalt take Or aught of sweeter taste or fairer make: 10 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.

Thou shalt feast well with me, my Fabullus, in a few days, if the gods favour thee, provided thou dost bear hither with thee a good and great feast, not forgetting a fair damsel and wine and wit and all kinds of laughter. Provided, I say, thou dost bear hither these, our charming one, thou wilt feast well: for thy Catullus' purse is brimful of cobwebs. But in return thou may'st receive a perfect love, or whatever is sweeter or more elegant: for I will give thee an unguent which the Loves and Cupids gave unto my girl, which when thou dost smell it, thou wilt entreat the gods to make thee, O Fabullus, one total Nose!

XIIII.

Ni te plus oculis meis amarem, Iocundissime Calve, munere isto Odissem te odio Vatiniano: Nam quid feci ego quidve sum locutus, Cur me tot male perderes poetis? 5 Isti di mala multa dent clienti, Qui tantum tibi misit inpiorum. Quod si, ut suspicor, hoc novum ac repertum Munus dat tibi Sulla litterator, Non est mi male, sed bene ac beate, 10 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! 15 Non non hoc tibi, salse, sic abibit: Nam, si luxerit, ad librariorum Curram scrinia, Caesios, Aquinos, Suffenum, omnia colligam venena, Ac te his suppliciis remunerabor. 20 Vos hinc interea (valete) abite Illuc, unde malum pedem attulistis, Saecli incommoda, pessimi poetae.

XIIIIb.

Siqui forte mearum ineptiarum Lectores eritis manusque vestras 25 Non horrebitis admovere nobis, * * * *

XIIII.

TO CALVUS, ACKNOWLEDGING HIS POEMS.

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? 5 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, 10 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. 15 No! No! thus shall't not pass wi' thee, sweet wag, For I at dawning day will scour the booths Of bibliopoles, Aquinii, Cæsii and Suffenus, gather all their poison-trash And with such torments pay thee for thy pains. 20 Now for the present hence, adieu! begone Thither, whence came ye, brought by luckless feet, Pests of the Century, ye pernicious Poets.

XIIIIb.

An of my trifles peradventure chance You to be readers, and the hands of you 25 Without a shudder unto us be offer'd * * * *

Did I not love thee more than mine eyes, O most jocund Calvus, for thy gift I should abhor thee with Vatinian abhorrence. For what have I done or what have I said that thou shouldst torment me so vilely with these poets? May the gods give that client of thine ills enow, who sent thee so much trash! Yet if, as I suspect, this new and care-picked gift, Sulla, the litterateur, gives thee, it is not ill to me, but well and beatific, that thy labours [in his cause] are not made light of. Great gods, what a horrible and accurst book which, forsooth, thou hast sent to thy Catullus that he might die of boredom the livelong day in the Saturnalia, choicest of days! No, no, my joker, this shall not leave thee so: for at daydawn I will haste to the booksellers' cases; the Caesii, the Aquini, Suffenus, every poisonous rubbish will I collect that I may repay thee with these tortures. Meantime (farewell ye) hence depart ye from here, whither an ill foot brought ye, pests of the period, puniest of poetasters.

If by chance ye ever be readers of my triflings and ye will not quake to lay your hands upon us,

* * * *

XV.

Commendo tibi me ac meos amores, Aureli. veniam peto pudentem, Vt, si quicquam animo tuo cupisti, Quod castum expeteres et integellum, Conserves puerum mihi pudice, 5 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. 10 Quem tu qua lubet, ut iubet, moveto, Quantum vis, ubi erit foris, paratum: Hunc unum excipio, ut puto, pudenter. Quod si te mala mens furorque vecors In tantam inpulerit, sceleste, culpam, 15 Vt nostrum insidiis caput lacessas, A tum te miserum malique fati, Quem attractis pedibus patente porta Percurrent raphanique mugilesque.

XV.

TO AURELIUS--HANDS OFF THE BOY!

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. 5 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! 10 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, 15 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.

I commend me to thee with my charmer, Aurelius. I come for modest boon that,--didst thine heart long for aught, which thou desiredst chaste and untouched,--thou 'lt preserve for me the chastity of my boy. I do not say from the public: I fear those naught who hurry along the thoroughfares hither thither occupied on their own business: truth my fear is from thee and thy penis, pestilent eke to fair and to foul. Set it in motion where thou dost please, whenever thou biddest, as much as thou wishest, wherever thou findest the opportunity out of doors: this one object I except, to my thought a reasonable boon. But if thy evil mind and senseless rutting push thee forward, scoundrel, to so great a crime as to assail our head with thy snares, O wretch, calamitous mishap shall happen thee, when with feet taut bound, through the open entrance radishes and mullets shall pierce.

XVI.

Pedicabo ego vos et inrumabo, Aureli pathice et cinaede Furi, Qui me ex versiculis meis putastis, Quod sunt molliculi, parum pudicum. Nam castum esse decet pium poetam 5 Ipsum, versiculos nihil necessest, Qui tum denique habent salem ac leporem, Si sunt molliculi ac parum pudici Et quod pruriat incitare possunt, Non dico pueris, sed his pilosis, 10 Qui duros nequeunt movere lumbos. Vos, quom milia multa basiorum Legistis, male me marem putatis? Pedicabo ego vos et inrumabo.

XVI.

TO AURELIUS AND FURIUS IN DEFENCE OF HIS MUSE'S HONESTY.

I'll ---- you twain and ---- Pathic Aurélius! 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 5 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 10 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 ----

I will paedicate and irrumate you, Aurelius the bardache and Furius the cinaede, who judge me from my verses rich in love-liesse, to be their equal in modesty. For it behoves your devout poet to be chaste himself; his verses--not of necessity. Which verses, in a word, may have a spice and volupty, may have passion's cling and such like decency, so that they can incite with ticklings, I do not say boys, but bearded ones whose stiffened limbs amort lack pliancy in movement. You, because of many thousand kisses you have read, think me womanish. I will paedicate and irrumate you!

XVII.

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, 5 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 10 Lividissima maximeque est profunda vorago. Insulsissimus est homo, nec sapit pueri instar Bimuli tremula patris dormientis in ulna. Quoi cum sit viridissimo nupta flore puella (Et puella tenellulo delicatior haedo, 15 Adservanda nigerrimis diligentius uvis), Ludere hanc sinit ut lubet, 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, 20 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, 25 Ferream ut soleam tenaci in voragine mula.

XVII.

OF A "PREDESTINED" HUSBAND.

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 5 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, 10 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, 15 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; 20 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 25 Even as she-mule casts iron shoe where quagmire is stiffest.

O Colonia, that longest to disport thyself on a long bridge and art prepared for the dance, but that fearest the trembling legs of the bridgelet builded on re-used shavings, lest supine it may lie stretched in the hollow swamp; may a good bridge take its place designed to thy fancy, on which e'en the Salian dances may be sustained: for the which grant to me, Colonia, greatest of gifts glee-exciting. Such an one, townsman of mine, I want from thy bridge to be pitched in the sludge head over heels, right where the lake of all its stinking slime is dankest and most superfluent--a deep-sunk abyss. The man is a gaping gaby! lacking the sense of a two-years-old baby dozing on its father's cradling arm. Although to him is wedded a girl flushed with springtide's bloom (and a girl more dainty than a tender kid, meet to be watched with keener diligence than the lush-black grape-bunch), he leaves her to sport at her list, cares not a single hair, nor bestirs himself with marital office, but lies as an alder felled by Ligurian hatchet in a ditch, as sentient of everything as though no woman were at his side. Such is my booby! he sees not, he hears naught. Who himself is, or whether he be or be not, he also knows not. Now I wish to chuck him head first from thy bridge, so as to suddenly rouse (if possible) this droning dullard and to leave behind in the sticky slush his sluggish spirit, as a mule casts its iron shoe in the tenacious slough.

XVIII.

Hunc lucum tibi dedico, consecroque, Priape, Qua domus tua Lampsaci est, quaque silva, Priape, Nam te praecipue in suis urbibus colit ora Hellespontia, caeteris ostreosior oris.

XVIII.

TO PRIAPUS, THE GARDEN-GOD.

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 grove I dedicate and consecrate to thee, Priapus, who hast thy home at Lampsacus, and eke thy woodlands, Priapus; for thee especially in its cities worships the coast of the Hellespont, richer in oysters than all other shores.

XVIIII.

Hunc ego, juvenes, locum, villulamque palustrem, Tectam vimine junceo, caricisque maniplis, Quercus arida, rustica conformata securi, Nunc tuor: magis, et magis ut beata quotannis. Hujus nam Domini colunt me, Deumque salutant, 5 Pauperis tugurii pater, filiusque coloni: Alter, assidua colens diligentia, ut herba Dumosa, asperaque a meo sit remota sacello: Alter, parva ferens manu semper munera larga. Florido mihi ponitur picta vere corolla 10 Primitu', et tenera virens spica mollis arista: Luteae violae mihi, luteumque papaver, Pallentesque cucurbitae, et suaveolentia mala, Vva pampinea rubens educata sub umbra. Sanguine hanc etiam mihi (sed tacebitis) aram 15 Barbatus linit hirculus, cornipesque capella: Pro queis omnia honoribus haec necesse Priapo Praestare, et domini hortulum, vineamque tueri. Quare hinc, o pueri, malas abstinete rapinas. Vicinus prope dives est, negligensque Priapus. 20 Inde sumite: semita haec deinde vos feret ipsa.

XVIIII.

TO PRIAPUS.

This place, O youths, I protect, nor less this turf-builded 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, 5 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, 10 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!) 15 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: 20 Take what be his: this path hence leadeth straight to his ownings.

This place, youths, and the marshland cot thatched with rushes, osier-twigs and bundles of sedge, I, carved from a dry oak by a rustic axe, now protect, so that they thrive more and more every year. For its owners, the father of the poor hut and his son,--both husbandmen,--revere me and salute me as a god; the one labouring with assiduous diligence that the harsh weeds and brambles may be kept away from my sanctuary, the other often bringing me small offerings with open hand. On me is placed a many-tinted wreath of early spring flowers and the soft green blade and ear of the tender corn. Saffron-coloured violets, the orange-hued poppy, wan gourds, sweet-scented apples, and the purpling grape trained in the shade of the vine, [are offered] to me. Sometimes, (but keep silent as to this) even the bearded he-goat, and the horny-footed nanny sprinkle my altar with blood; for which honours Priapus is bound in return to do everything [which lies in his duty], and to keep strict guard over the little garden and vineyard of his master. Wherefore, abstain, O lads, from your evil pilfering here. Our next neighbour is rich and his Priapus is negligent. Take from him; this path then will lead you to his grounds.

XX.

Ego haec ego arte fabricata rustica, Ego arida, o viator, ecce populus Agellulum hunc, sinistra, tute quem vides, Herique villulam, hortulumque pauperis Tuor, malasque furis arceo manus. 5 Mihi corolla picta vero ponitur: Mihi rubens arista sole fervido: Mihi virente dulcis uva pampino: Mihique glauca duro oliva frigore. Meis capella delicata pascuis 10 In urbem adulta lacte portat ubera: Meisque pinguis agnus ex ovilibus Gravem domum remittit aere dexteram: Tenerque, matre mugiente, vaccula Deum profundit ante templa sanguinem. 15 Proin', viator, hunc Deum vereberis, Manumque sorsum habebis hoc tibi expedit. Parata namque crux, sine arte mentula. Velim pol, inquis: at pol ecce, villicus Venit: valente cui revulsa brachio 20 Fit ista mentula apta clava dexterae.

XX.

TO PRIAPUS.

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. 5 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 10 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. 15 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 20 Makes of this tool a club for doughty hand.

I, O traveller, shaped with rustic art from a dry poplar, guard this little field which thou seest on the left, and the cottage and small garden of its indigent owner, and keep off the greedy hands of the robber. In spring a many-tinted wreath is placed upon me; in summer's heat ruddy grain; [in autumn] a luscious grape cluster with vine-shoots, and in the bitter cold the pale-green olive. The tender she-goat bears from my pasture to the town milk-distended udders; the well-fattened lamb from my sheepfolds sends back [its owner] with a heavy handful of money; and the tender calf, 'midst its mother's lowings, sheds its blood before the temple of the Gods. Hence, wayfarer, thou shalt be in awe of this God, and it will be profitable to thee to keep thy hands off. For a punishment is prepared--a roughly-shaped mentule. "Truly, I am willing," thou sayest; then, truly, behold the farmer comes, and that same mentule plucked from my groin will become an apt cudgel in his strong right hand.

XXI.