FROM CATULLUS.

My Lydia says, "believe me I speak true,

I ne'er will marry any one but you;

If Jove himself should mention love to me,

Not even Jove would be preferred to thee."

She says—but all that women tell

Their doting lovers—I, alas! too well

Know, should be written on the waves or wind,

So little do their words express their mind.

T.C.