Ease has thy lot, Catullus, crost,
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Ease gladdens thee at heaviest cost,
Ease killed the Kings ere this and lost
The tallest towns.
He to me to be peer to a god doth seem, he, if such were lawful, to o'er-top the gods, who sitting oft a-front of thee doth gaze on thee, and
doth listen to thine laughter lovely, which doth snatch away from sombre me mine every sense: for instant falls my glance on thee, Lesbia, naught is left to me [of voice], but my tongue is numbed, a keen-edged flame spreads through my limbs, with sound self-caused my twin ears sing, and mine eyes are enwrapped with night.
Sloth, O Catullus, to thee is hurtful: in sloth beyond measure dost thou exult and pass thy life. Sloth hath erewhile ruined rulers and gladsome cities.
LII.
Quid est, Catulle? quid moraris emori?