Nor e'er was dove more loyal to her mate,

That bird, which, more than all, with clinging beak Kiss after kiss will pluck insatiate,—

Though prone thy sex its joys in change to seek,

Than thou, Laodamia! Tame and cold

Was all their passion, all their love to thine; When thou to thy enamour'd breast didst fold Thy blooming lord in ecstasy divine!

As fond, as fair as thou, so came the maid,
Who is my life, and to my bosom clung,
Whilst Cupid round her fluttering, array'd
In saffron vest, a radiance o'er her flung.

And though at times her wayward fancy stray
To other lovers, shall I then complain,
Her favours with my jealousies repay,

And torture her and vex myself in vain ?

Such is the way of fools; yea oft, 'tis true,
Heaven's queen, great Juno, burn'd with ire, when Jove

To furtive dalliance stole, for well she knew,
How wantonly her lord was wont to rove.

Yet 'tis unseemly, mortals to compare

With gods; and wherefore over her should I Keep fearful watch, with all a father's care,

And on her stol'n endearments play the spy?

She came not to me, by a father led,

Whilst Syrian odours welcomed home the bride, But in the hush of night to me she sped,

Oh night of rapture! from her husband's side,

And therefore, so that I, and I alone,
Possess her on the days she culls for me,
And signalizes with a whiter stone,

I care not, how inconstant she may be.

This gift of verse, the best I have, I send
In poor return for benefits untold,
That Time's debasing rust may not, my friend,
Obscure thy name, when thou and I are cold.

Thee with all other boons the gods endow,

Which Themis gave the good, who were her care! Blest be thy home, scene of our sports, and thou, And she, thy life, who reigns the mistress there!

And he who made us friends, my days to cheer
With all thy love; and chiefly blest be she,
My light, my joy, who, than myself more dear,
Makes life all sweetness, while she lives, for me!

ON AN INGRATE.

O more thy pains for others' welfare spend,
Nor think by service to attach a friend:
All are ungrateful-love goes slighted still,-
Nor merely so, but is repaid by ill;
Witness myself, whose bitterest foe is he,
Who never had a friend on earth but me.

TO RUFUS.

H Rufus, trusted as my friend and more,
Trusted in vain, and fruitlessly! Ah, no,
Not fruitlessly; for bitter fruit it bore,
That trust I gave, of wrong and cureless woe.

Was it for this into my heart you crept,
To steal away the worshipp'd idol, there
Within its inmost shrine so fondly kept,
And blast my days with horror and despair?

Like thief you stole it with a caitiff guile,

Bane of my life, our friendship's blight and pest!

Oh hell! that your foul kisses should defile
The stainless lips mine own so oft have press'd!

Yet shalt thou not escape my vengeance. No!
For through the ages shall thy tainted name
Live in men's mouths a bye-word and a show,
Doom'd to a drear eternity of shame!

ON LESBIUS.

DESBIUS is handsome, I allow!

And he is more to Lesbia's mind, Catullus, own the fact, than thou, Than thou, and all thy kind.

But this same exquisite is free
To sell me, and my kin to boot,
If he can point as friends to three,
Yes, three men of repute.