No More Learning

ON HIS PINNACE.

Yonder Pinnace ye (my guests! ) behold
Saith she was erstwhile fleetest-fleet of crafts,
Nor could by swiftness of aught plank that swims,
Be she outstripped, whether paddle plied,
Or fared she scudding under canvas-sail. 5
Eke she defieth threat'ning Adrian shore,
Dare not denay her, insular Cyclades,
And noble Rhodos and ferocious Thrace,
Propontis too and blustering Pontic bight.
Where she (my Pinnace now) in times before, 10
Was leafy woodling on Cytorean Chine
For ever loquent lisping with her leaves.
Pontic Amastris! Box-tree-clad Cytorus!
Cognisant were ye, and you weet full well
(So saith my Pinnace) how from earliest age 15
Upon your highmost-spiring peak she stood,
How in your waters first her sculls were dipt,
And thence thro' many and many an important strait
She bore her owner whether left or right,
Where breezes bade her fare, or Jupiter deigned 20
At once propitious strike the sail full square;
Nor to the sea-shore gods was aught of vow
By her deemed needful, when from Ocean's bourne
Extreme she voyaged for this limpid lake.
Yet were such things whilome: now she retired 25
In quiet age devotes herself to thee
(O twin-born Castor) twain with Castor's twin.

That pinnace which ye see, my friends, says that it was the speediest of
boats, nor any craft the surface skimming but it could gain the lead,
whether the course were gone o'er with plashing oars or bended sail. And
this the menacing Adriatic shores may not deny, nor may the Island
Cyclades, nor noble Rhodes and bristling Thrace, Propontis nor the gusty
Pontic gulf, where itself (afterwards a pinnace to become) erstwhile was a
foliaged clump; and oft on Cytorus' ridge hath this foliage announced
itself in vocal rustling. And to thee, Pontic Amastris, and to box-screened
Cytorus, the pinnace vows that this was alway and yet is of common
knowledge most notorious; states that from its primal being it stood upon
thy topmost peak, dipped its oars in thy waters, and bore its master thence
through surly seas of number frequent, whether the wind whistled 'gainst
the starboard quarter or the lee or whether Jove propitious fell on both
the sheets at once; nor any vows [from stress of storm] to shore-gods were
ever made by it when coming from the uttermost seas unto this glassy lake.
But these things were of time gone by: now laid away, it rusts in peace and
dedicates its age to thee, twin Castor, and to Castor's twin.

V.

Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus,
Rumoresque senum severiorum
Omnes unius aestimemus assis.
Soles occidere et redire possunt:
Nobis cum semel occidit brevis lux, 5
Nox est perpetua una dormienda.
Da mi basia mille, deinde centum,
Dein mille altera, dein secunda centum,
Deinde usque altera mille, deinde centum.
Dein, cum milia multa fecerimus, 10
Conturbabimus illa, ne sciamus,
Aut nequis malus invidere possit,
Cum tantum sciet esse basiorum.

V.

TO LESBIA, (OF LESBOS--CLODIA? )

Love we (my Lesbia! ) and live we our day,
While all stern sayings crabbed sages say,
At one doit's value let us price and prize!
The Suns can westward sink again to rise
But we, extinguished once our tiny light, 5
Perforce shall slumber through one lasting night!
Kiss me a thousand times, then hundred more,
Then thousand others, then a new five-score,
Still other thousand other hundred store.
Last when the sums to many thousands grow, 10
The tale let's trouble till no more we know,
Nor envious wight despiteful shall misween us
Knowing how many kisses have been kissed between us.

Let us live, my Lesbia, and let us love, and count all the mumblings of
sour age at a penny's fee. Suns set can rise again: we when once our brief
light has set must sleep through a perpetual night. Give me of kisses a
thousand, and then a hundred, then another thousand, then a second hundred,
then another thousand without resting, then a hundred. Then, when we have
made many thousands, we will confuse the count lest we know the numbering,
so that no wretch may be able to envy us through knowledge of our kisses'
number.

VI.

Flavi, delicias tuas Catullo,
Nei sint inlepidae atque inelegantes,
Velles dicere, nec tacere posses.