"Bithynia, lady!" I replied,
"Is a fine province for a prætor;
For none (I promise you) beside,
And least of all am I her debtor."
"Sorry for that!" said she. "However,
You have brought with you, I dare say,
Some litter-bearers; none so clever
In any other part as they.
"Bithynia is the very place
For all that's steady, tall, and straight;
It is the nature of the race.
Could you not lend me six or eight?"
"Why, six or eight of them or so,"
Said I, determined to be grand;
"My fortune is not quite so low
But these are still at my command."
"You'll send them?"—"Willingly!" I told her,
Although I had not here or there
One who could carry on his shoulder
The leg of an old broken chair.
"Catullus! what a charming hap is
Our meeting in this sort of way!
I would be carried to Serapis
To-morrow!"—"Stay, fair lady, stay!
"You overvalue my intention.
Yes, there are eight ... there may be nine:
I merely had forgot to mention
That they are Cinna's, and not mine."
Paraphrase of W. S. Landor.