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Catullus to Lesbia.
ILLE mî par esse deo videtur,
Spectat et audit
Dulce ridentem. Misero quod omnes Eripit sensus mihi; nam simul te, Lesbia aspexi, nihil est super mî.
Him rival to the gods I place,
Him loftier yet, if loftier be,
Who listens and who looks on thee;
Thee smiling soft. Yet this delight
Doth all my sense consign to death ;
Ah wretched ! flits my labouring breath.*
* By borrowing from the beautiful Ode of Sappho, which is the prototype if not the original of Catullus, I have filled up the gap, in the sense as well as in the metre, which the Latin presents to us. The first stanza of the Greek closes thus
βροχεως με φωνάς ουδέν έτ' έκει»
My tongue is palsied. Subtly hid
Fire creeps me through from limb to limb: My loud ears tingle all unbid :
Twin clouds of night mine eyes bedim.
Ease is thy plague; ease makes thee void,
Catullus, with these vacant hours, And wanton: ease, that hath destroyed Great kings, and states with all their powers.
Lorace to Pyrrha.
Op. I. 5.
Quis multâ gracilis te puer in rosâ
Cui flavam religas comam
Simplex munditiis? Heu quoties fidem
Qui nunc te fruitur credulus aureâ,
Fallacis. Miseri, quibus