Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus,
and
Quaeris, quot mihi basiationes, etc.,—
written in the very height of his short-lived happiness, in the wildest tumult and most reckless abandonment of passion, when the immediate joy is felt as the only thing of any moment in life; the 8th poem—
Miser, Catulle, desinas ineptire—
in which he recalls the bright days of the past—
Fulsere quondam candidi tibi soles,—
and steels his heart against useless regret:—and another poem written in a different metre, in the same mood, and apparently after the wounds, which had been partially healed, had broken out afresh,—
Si qua recordanti benefacta priora voluptas, etc.[47];