LOVE IN RUINS .

Lesbia! you used to say you were
Catullus' own;
To me not Jove would you prefer,
And thereupon
I loved you as no mistress mere,
But as a son
Or daughter's husband is held dear —
Now you are known!
And though my passion 's livelier
And fiercer grown,
More vile and worthless you appear —
The wrong you 've done

RECONCILIATION .

When he who longs and sighs,
Though hope has fled,
Stumbles upon the prize,
Oh, joy indeed!
Such joy is mine, that thou,
Dearer than gold,
Lesbia, reseekest now
Thy love of old;
Thyself reseek'st my love
When hope had fled!
O day all days above,
Be honored!
Who happier lives than I?
Or who shall say

LOVE DETECTED .

Lesbia does nothing else but flout me,
She cannot hold her tongue about me!
Then hang me, but she loves me dearly!
What proof? My own behaviour clearly:
For I attack her just as stoutly,
Yet hang me! her I love devoutly.

Farewell, farewell! From thee
Today, love, must I sever.
One kiss, one kiss give me,
Ere I quit thee forever!

One blossom from yon tree
O give to me, I pray!
No fruit, no fruit for me!
So long I may not stay.

INTRODUCTORY TO " SONGS OF NATURE AND LOVE "

On history's page their names do not shine,
For humble and peaceful were they,
And yet I can see their long, long line
Stretching back through the ages gray.
Yes, here in the ancient iron-rich land
They tilled their fields by the river-strand
And smelted the ore in their day.
Neither thralldom nor pomp could they understand,
But, dwelling each like a king in his house,
They quaffed at their festal carouse.
They kissed their sweethearts in springtime's pride,

Horace . While to thee no other name was nearer,
 Ere a rival youth aspired to fling
Round thy snow-white neck embraces dearer,
 I lived richer than a king.

Lydia . Ere a new flame to thy false heart beckoned,
 When the elder passion seemed divine,
Nor was Lydia yet to Chloë second,
 Roman Ilia's glory paled to mine.

Horace . Now lute-learnèd, skilled in measures tender,
 Thracian Chloë doth my heart enslave,
Life for her I dread not to surrender,
 If the Fates my other soul will save.

He is no lover of the sea
Who loves her never faithlessly,
Who loves her never most and least,
Slavered, fierce, upleaping beast,
Who loves her neither least nor most,
The shrouded girl, the hushing ghost,
Who never loves deceitfully,
He is no lover of the sea.

Through Love did I the joy of life attain,
And walking in the way that He hath led
I found the remedy to heal all pain;
Why therefore is my pain unremedied?

At board and-banquet have I been a jest,
And whoso chose might point a gibe at me;
Full five years didst thou my stanch service test,
Now shalt thou bite thy nails to find me free.

I mind not tears — unmoved by trick so stale;
Cynthia, thy tears from artful motives flow;
I weep to part, but wrongs o'er sobs prevail;
'T is thou hast dealt love's yoke its crushing blow.

Threshold, adieu, that pitied my distress,
And door that took no hurt from angered hand;
But thee, false woman, may the inroads press

Rightly I 'm served, who had the heart to fly!
To the lone halcyons here I make my moan:
Nor shall my keel its wonted port draw nigh —
Adrift on thankless shore my vows are thrown.

Nay, more! the adverse winds espouse thy side!
Lo! in rude gusts how fiercely chides the gale!
Will no sweet Peace o'er yon wild tempest ride?
Must these few sands to hide my corpse avail?

Nay, change thy harsh complaints for milder tones!
Let night on yonder shoals my pardon buy.
Thou wilt not brook to leave unurned my bones: