TRANSLATIONS from CATULLUS I Miser Catulle &c.

TRANSLATIONS
from
CATULLUS
I
Miser Catulle &c. [1] 

Fond Catullus! cease to grieve
What is lost, esteem as lost.
Never can regrets retrieve
Pleasures which thy fates have crost.
Brilliant shone the star of day,5
Smiling o'er thy happy hours,
When beneath thy Lesbia's sway,
Love diverted all thy powers.
Loving more than youth e'er lov'd,
Once adored! I sure may say10
O'er the joys we both have prov'd,
Brilliant shine the star of day!
But she joys in thee no more,
Bid the false one then Adieu!
Wretched fool! at length give o'er15
Her, who flies thee, to pursue.
But no more thy love desiring,
See me changed, thy scorn forbear!
Nothing now from thee requiring,
Hard of heart, and false as fair!20
Yet I know, regret will oft
Stain thy cheeks with tears for me,
When recalled in moments soft,
There our pleasures past shalt see.
When no more thy slave returning25
Dwells enraptured on thy charms,
Who with equal transports burning
E'er shall seek thy circling arms?
Thou who know'st so well the pleasure
Of the fond, impassion'd sigh,30
Thou wilt mourn thy slighted treasure,
What can love like mine supply?
Yes, I know that soon relenting,
Scorn for scorn she shall receive,
But thy fate no more lamenting,35
Fond Catullus, cease to grief!
______________________

Notes

[1] EDITOR'S NOTE: "Fond Catullus! cease to grieve" does not appear in Psyche, with Other Poems or Mary (or Collected Poems and Journals) and is undated in Verses. It presents a verse translation of Catullus's 19-line Carmina poem 8 (“Poor Catullus, ‘tis time you should cease your folly,” Francis Cornish translation):

Miser Catulle, desinas ineptire,
et quod vides perisse perditum ducas.
fulsere quondam candidi tibi soles,
cum ventitabas quo puella ducebat
amata nobis quantum amabitur nulla.5
ibi illa multa tum iocosa fiebant,
quae tu volebas nec puella nolebat.
fulsere vere candidi tibi soles.
nunc iam illa non vult: tu quoque, impotens, noli,
nec quae fugit sectare, nec miser vive,10
sed obstinata mente perfer, obdura.
vale, puella! iam Catullus obdurat,
nec te requiret nec rogabit invitam:
at tu dolebis, cum rogaberis nulla.
scelesta, vae te! quae tibi manet vita!15
quis nunc te adibit? cui videberis bella?
quem nunc amabis? cuius esse diceris?
quem basiabis? cui labella mordebis?
at tu, Catulle, destinatus obdura.
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