AN INVITATION TO DINNER
If the gods will, Fabullus mine,
With me right heartily you'll dine.
Bring but good cheer—that chance is thine
Some days hereafter;
Mind, a fair girl too, wit, and wine,
And merry laughter.
Bring these—you'll feast on kingly fare;
But bring them—for my purse—I swear
The spiders have been weaving there;
But thee I'll favor
With a pure love, or what's more rare,
More sweet of savor,
An unguent I'll before you lay
The Loves and Graces t'other day
Gave to my girl—smell it—you'll pray
The gods, Fabullus,
To make you turn all nose straightway.
Yours aye, Catullus.
Translation of James Cranstoun.
A BROTHER'S GRAVE
Brother! o'er many lands and oceans borne,
I reach thy grave, death's last sad rite to pay;
To call thy silent dust in vain, and mourn,
Since ruthless fate has hurried thee away:
Woe's me! yet now upon thy tomb I lay—
All soaked with tears for thee, thee loved so well—
What gifts our fathers gave the honored clay
Of valued friends; take them, my grief they tell:
And now, forever hail! forever fare thee well!
Translation of James Cranstoun.