FAREWELL TO BITHYNIA. BALMY warmth comes wafted o'er the seas Now quit, Catullus, quit the Phrygian plain, Where days of sweltering sunshine soon shall crown Nicæa's fields with wealth of golden grain, And fly to Asia's cities of renown! Already through each nerve a flutter runs My feet, new-wing'd for travel, yearn to stray. And you, ye band of comrades tried and true, Who side by side went forth from home, farewell! How far apart the paths shall carry you Back to your native shore, ah, who can tell? TO A BEAUTY. H, if I thine eyes might kiss, Nor should these a surfeit bring, Not though that sweet crop should yield Kisses far outnumbering Corn-ears in the harvest-field. TO CICERO. OST eloquent of all the line From Romulus who claim, 'That e'er have shone, or e'er will shine, Marc Tully, honour'd name! Catullus, of all bards the worst, TO LICINIUS. OW pleasantly, Licinius, went With your rare wit and sayings deep, 'Tis come, but here I lie half dead With aching limbs upon my bed; Whence I to you these lines have penn'd, Oh brilliant and amusing friend, That so you may divine my mood Of feverish disquietude! |