For these my trifles even then You counted of some value, when You only of Italian men Into three tomes had dared to cast The story of all ages past,-- Learned, O Jupiter, and vast! So take it, prize it as you may. --And, gracious Virgin, this I pray: That it shall live beyond our day! Translation of W. C. Lawton. A MORNING CALL Varus would take me t'other day To see a little girl he knew,-- Pretty and witty in her way, With impudence enough for two. Scarce are we seated, ere she chatters (As pretty girls are wont to do) About all persons, places, matters:-- "And pray, what has been done for _you_?" "Bithynia, lady!" I replied, "Is a fine province for a prætor; For none (I promise you) beside, And least of all am I her debtor." "Sorry for that!" said she. "However, You have brought with you, I dare say, Some litter-bearers; none so clever In any other part as they. "Bithynia is the very place For all that's steady, tall, and straight; It is the nature of the race. Could you not lend me six or eight?" "Why, six or eight of them or so," Said I, determined to be grand; "My fortune is not quite so low But these are still at my command." "You'll send them?"--"Willingly!" I told her, Although I had not here or there One who could carry on his shoulder The leg of an old broken chair. "Catullus! what a charming hap is Our meeting in this sort of way! I would be carried to Serapis To-morrow!"--"Stay, fair lady, stay! "You overvalue my intention. Yes, there _are_ eight ... there may be nine: I merely had forgot to mention That they are Cinna's, and not mine." Paraphrase of W. S. Landor. HOME TO SIRMIO Dear Sirmio, that art the very eye Of islands and peninsulas, that lie Deeply embosomed in calm inland lake, Or where the waves of the vast ocean break; Joy of all joys, to gaze on thee once more! I scarce believe that I have left the shore Of Thynia, and Bithynia's parching plain, And gaze on thee in safety once again! Oh, what more sweet than when, from care set free, The spirit lays its burden down, and we, With distant travel spent, come home and spread Our limbs to rest along the wished-for bed! This, this alone, repays such toils as these! Smile, then, fair Sirmio, and thy master please,-- And you, ye dancing waters of the lake, Rejoice; and every smile of home awake! Translation of Sir Theodore Martin. HEART-BREAK With your Catullus ill it fares, alas! O Cornificius, and most wearily; Still worse with all the days and hours that pass. And with what greeting do you comfort me? The least of boons, and easiest to bestow; Wroth am I, that my love is answered so. A word of greeting, pray you; what you please; More sad than tear-drops of Simonides!