The Poems and Fragments of Catullus | Page 8

refin'd rare wit, Suffenus, O no ditcher e'er appeared more rude, 10 No looby coarser; such a shock, a change is there.
How then resolve this puzzle? He the birthday-wit,?For so we thought him--keener yet, if aught is so--?Becomes a dunce more boorish e'en than hedge-born boor, If e'er he faults on verses; yet in heart is then 15 Most happy, writing verses, happy past compare,?So sweet his own self, such a world at home finds he.
Friend, 'tis the common error; all alike are wrong,?Not one, but in some trifle you shall eye him true?Suffenus; each man bears from heaven the fault they send, 20 None sees within the wallet hung behind, our own.
XXIII.
Needy Furius, house nor hoard possessing,?Bug or spider, or any fire to thaw you,?Yet most blest in a father and a step-dame,?Each for penury fit to tooth a flint-stone:?Is not happiness yours? a home united? 5 Son, sire, mother, a lathy dame to match him.
Who can wonder? in all is health, digestion,?Pure and vigorous, hours without a trouble.?Fires ye fear not, or house's heavy downfal,?Deeds unnatural, art in act to poison, 10 Dangers myriad accidents befalling.
Then your bodies? in every limb a shrivell'd?Horn, all dryness in all the world whatever,?Tann'd or frozen or icy-lean with ages.?Sure superlative happiness surrounds thee. 15 Thee sweat frets not, an o'er-saliva frets not,?Frets not snivel or oozy rheumy nostril.
Yet such purity lacks not e'en a purer.?White those haunches as any cleanly-silver'd?Salt, it takes you a month to barely dirt them. 20 Then like beans, or inert as e'er a pebble,?Those impeccable heavy loins, a finger's?Breadth from apathy ne'er seduced to riot.
Such prosperity, such superb profusion,?Slight not, Furius, idly nor reject not. 25 As for sesterces, all the would-be fortune,?Cease to wish it; enough, methinks, the present.
XXIV.
O thou blossom of all the race Juventian?Not now only, but all as yet arisen,?All to flower in after-years arising;
Midas' treasury better you presented?Him that owns not a slave nor any coffer, 5 Ere you suffer his alien arm's presuming.
What? you fancy him all refin'd perfection??Perfect! truly, without a slave, a coffer.
Slight, reject it, away with it; for all that?He, he owns not a slave nor any coffer. 10
XXV.
Smooth Thallus, inly softer you than any furry rabbit,?Or glossy goose's oily plumes, or velvet earlap yielding, Or feeble age's heavy thighs, or flimsy filthy cobweb;
And Thallus, hungry rascal you, as hurricane rapacious, When winks occasion on the stroke, the gulls agape declaring: 5
Return the mantle home to me, you watch'd your hour to pilfer, The fleecy napkin and the rings from Thynia quaintly graven, Whatever you parade as yours, vain fool, a sham reversion:
Unglue the nails adroit to steal, unclench the spoil, deliver, Lest yet that haunch voluptuous, those tender hands caressant, 10 Should take an ugly print severe, the scourge's heavy branding;
And strange to bruises you should heave, as heaves in open Ocean, Some little hoy surprised adrift, when wails the windy water.
XXVI.
Draughts, dear Furius, if my villa faces,?'Tis not showery south, nor airy wester,?North's grim fury, nor east; 'tis only fifteen?Thousand sesterces, add two hundred over.?Draft unspeakable, icy, pestilential! 5
XXVII.
Boy, young caterer of Falernian olden,?Brim me cups of a fiercer harsher essence;?So Postumia, queen of healths presiding,?Bids, less thirsty the thirsty grape, the toper.?But dull water, avaunt. Away the wine-cup's 5 Sullen enemy; seek the sour, the solemn!?Here Thyonius hails his own elixir.
XXVIII.
Starving company, troop of hungry Piso,?Light of luggage, of outfit expeditious,?You, Veranius, you, my own Fabullus,
Say, what fortune? enough of empty masters,?Frost and famine, a lingering probation? 5
Stands your diary fair? is any profit?Enter'd _given_? as I to serve a praetor?Count each beggarly gift a timely profit.
Trust me, Memmius, you did aptly finger?My passivity, fool'd me most supinely. 10
Friends, confess it; in e'en as hard a fortune?You stand mulcted, on you a like abashless?Rake rides heavily. Court the great who wills it!
Gods and goddesses evil heap upon ye,?Rogues to Romulus and to Remus outcast. 15
XXIX.
Can any brook to see it, any tamely bear--?If any, gamester, epicure, a wanton, he--?Mamurra's own whatever all the curly Gauls?Did else inherit, or the lonely Briton isle??Can you look on, look idly, filthy Romulus? 5
Shall he, in o'er-assumption, o'er-repletion he,?Sedately saunter every dainty couch along,?A bright Adonis, as the snowy dove serene??Can you look on, look idly, filthy Romulus??Look idly, gamester, epicure, a wanton, you. 10
Unique commander, and was only this the plea?Detain'd you in that islet angle of the west,?To gorge the shrunk seducer irreclaimable?With haply twice a million, add a million yet??What else was e'er unhealthy prodigality? 15
The waste? to lust a little? on the belly less??Begin; a glutted hoard paternal; ebb the first.?To this, the booty Pontic; add the spoil from out?Iberia, known to Tagus' amber ory stream.?Not only Gaul, nor only quail the Briton isles. 20
What help a rogue to fondle? is not all his