But here, O Lalage, whence, through the holy joys of the azure,
thou sendest thy soul-glance;
here Valerius Catullus moored to the wet rocks, of old,
his frail pitched canoe,
sat through the long days and watched in the waves, phosphorescent and tremulous,
the eyes of his Lesbia;
yea, and saw in those waves the changing moods of his Lesbia,
saw her perfidious smile,
the while she beguiled with her charms, through darksome haunts of the town,
the princely nephews of Romulus.