empty generation!

XLIV.

O thou my Sabine farmstead or my Tiburtine,
For who Catullus would not harm, avow, kind souls,
Thou surely art at Tibur; and who quarrel will
Sabine declare thee, stake the world to prove their say:

But be'st a Sabine, be'st a very Tiburtine, 5
At thy suburban villa what delight I knew
To spit the tiresome cough away, my lungs' ill guest,
My belly brought me, not without a sad weak sin,
Because a costly dinner I desir'd too much.

For I, to feast with Sestius, that host unmatch'd, 10
A speech of his, pure poison, every line deep-drugg'd,
His speech against the plaintiff Antius, read through.

Whereat a cold chill, soon a gusty cough in fits,
Shook, shook me ever, till to thy retreat I fled,
There duly dosed with nettle and repose found cure. 15
So, now recruited, thanks superlative, dear farm,
I give thee, who so lightly didst avenge that sin.

And trust me, farm, if ever I again take up
With Sextius' black charges, I'll rebel no more;
But let the chill things damn to cold, to cough, not me 20
That read the volume--no, but him, the man's vain self.

XLV.

1.

While Septimius in his arms his Acme
Fondled closely, 'My own,' said he, 'my Acme,

If I love not as unto death, nor hold me
Ever faithfully well-prepar'd to largest
Strain of fiery wooer yet to love thee, 5

Then in Libya, then may I alone in
Burning India face a sulky lion.'

Scarce he ended, upon the right did eager
Love sneeze amity; 'twas before to leftward.

2.

Acme quietly back her head reclining 10
Towards her boy, with a rosy mouth delightful
Kissed his passionate eyes elately swimming,

Then 'Septimius, O my life' she murmur'd,
'So may he that is in this hour ascendant

Rule us ever, as in me burns a greater 15
Fire, a fiercer, in every vein triumphing.'

Scarce she ended, upon the right did eager
Love sneeze amity; 'twas before to leftward.

3.

So, that augury joyous each possessing,
Loves, is lov'd with an even emulation. 20

Poor Septimius, all to please his Acme,
Recks not Syria, recks not any Britain.