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CATULLUS'S RETURN HOME TO THE

PENINSULA OF SIRMIO.

CARMEN XXXI.

O Best of all the scatter'd spots that lie
In sea or lake,-apple of landscape's eye,
How gladly do I drop within thy nest,
With what a sigh of full, contented rest,

PENINSULARUM, Sirmio, insularumque
Ocelle, quascunque in liquentibus stagnis
Marique vasto fert uterque Neptunus,
Quam te libenter, quamque lætus inviso,

Scarce able to believe my journey o’er,
And that these eyes behold thee safe once more!
Oh where's the luxury like a loosen'd heart,
When the mind, breathing, lays it's load apart,
When we come home again, tir'd out, and spread
The greedy limbs o'er all the wish'd-for bed!
This, this alone is worth an age of toil.
Hail, lovely Sirmio! Hail, paternal soil!
Joy, my bright waters, joy; your master's come!
Laugh, every dimple on the cheek of home!

Vix m ipse credens Thyniam atque Bithynos
Liquisse campos, et videre te in tuto!
O quid solutis est beatius curis,
Cum mens onus reponit, ac peregrino
Labore fessi venimus larem ad nostrum,
Desideratoque acquiescimus lecto!
Hoc est quod unum est pro laboribus tantis.
Salve, o venusta Sirmio, atque hero gaude !
Gaudete, vosque Lydiæ lacus undæ !
Ridete, quidquid est domi cachinnorum!

CARMEN XXXVIII.

Sick, Cornificius, is thy friend,
Sick to the heart ; and sees no end
Of wretched thoughts, that gath’ring fast
Threaten to wear him out at last.
And yet you never come and bring-
Though 'twere the least and easiest thing-
A comfort in that talk of thine:- .
You vex me:--this, to love like mine?
Prithee, a little talk, for ease, for ease,
Full as the tears of poor Simonides.

Male est, Cornifici, tuo Catullo,
Male est mehercule, et laboriose,
Et magis magis in dies et horas :
Quem tu-quod minimum facillimumque est-
Qua solatus es adlocutione?
Irascor tibi:-sic meos amores?
Paulum quid lubet adlocutionis,
Moestius lacrimis Simonideis.

ACME AND SEPTIMIUS, OR THE

ENTIRE AFFECTION.

FROM CATULLUS.—CARMEN XLV.

Oh, Acme love!' Septimius cried, As on his lap he held his bride,

If all my heart is not for thee, And doats not on thee desperately, And if it doat not more and more, As desperate heart ne'er did before,

Acmen Septimius, suos amores,
Tenens in gremio, ‘Mea,' inquit, “Acme,
Ni te perdite amo, atque amare porro
Omnes sum assidue paratus annos,
Quantum qui pote plurimum perire; ..

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