c quae fugit sectare, nec miser vive, 10
Sed obstinata mente perfer, obdura.
Vale, puella. iam Catullus obdurat,
Nec te requiret nec rogabit invitam:
At tu dolebis, cum rogaberis nulla.
Scelesta, vae te! quae tibi manet vita! 15
Quis nunc te adibit? cui videberis bella?
Quem nunc amabis? cuius esse diceris?
Quem basiabis? cui labella mordebis?
At tu, Catulle, destinatus obdura.

VIII.

TO HIMSELF RECOUNTING LESBIA'S INCONSTANCY.

Woe-full Catullus! cease to play the fool
And what thou seest dead as dead regard!
Whilome the sheeniest suns for thee did shine
When oft-a-tripping whither led the girl
By us beloved, as shall none be loved. 5
There all so merry doings then were done
After thy liking, nor the girl was loath.
Then certes sheeniest suns for thee did shine.
Now she's unwilling: thou too (hapless!) will
Her flight to follow, and sad life to live: 10
Endure with stubborn soul and still obdure.
Damsel, adieu! Catullus obdurate grown
Nor seeks thee, neither asks of thine unwill;
Yet shalt thou sorrow when none woos thee more;
Reprobate! Woe to thee! What life remains? 15
Who now shall love thee? Who'll think thee fair?
Whom now shalt ever love? Whose wilt be called?
To whom shalt kisses give? whose liplets nip?
But thou (Catullus!) destiny-doomed obdure.

Unhappy Catullus, cease thy trifling and what thou seest lost know to be
lost. Once bright days used to shine on thee when thou wert wont to haste
whither thy girl didst lead thee, loved by us as never girl will e'er be
loved. There those many joys were joyed which thou didst wish, nor was the
girl unwilling. In truth bright days used once to shine on thee. Now she no
longer wishes: thou too, powerless to avail, must be unwilling, nor pursue
the retreating one, nor live unhappy, but with firm-set mind endure, steel
thyself. Farewell, girl, now Catullus steels himself, seeks thee not, nor
entreats thy acquiescence. But thou wilt pine, when thou hast no entreaty
proffered. Faithless, go thy way! what manner of life remaineth to thee?
who now will visit thee? who find thee beautiful? whom wilt thou love now?
whose girl wilt thou be called? whom wilt thou kiss? whose lips wilt thou
bite? But thou, Catullus, remain hardened as steel.

VIIII.

Verani, omnibus e meis amicis
Antistans mihi milibus