Thy Charmer (Flavius!) to Catullus' ear
Were she not manner'd mean and worst in wit
Perforce thou hadst praised nor couldst silence keep.
But some enfevered jade, I wot-not-what,
Some piece thou lovest, blushing this to own. 5
For, nowise 'customed widower nights to lie
Thou 'rt ever summoned by no silent bed
With flow'r-wreaths fragrant and with Syrian oil,
By mattress, bolsters, here, there, everywhere
Deep-dinted, and by quaking, shaking couch 10
All crepitation and mobility.
Explain! none whoredoms (no!) shall close my lips.
Why? such outfuttered flank thou ne'er wouldst show
Had not some fulsome work by thee been wrought.
Then what thou holdest, boon or bane be pleased 15
Disclose! For thee and thy beloved fain would I
Upraise to Heaven with my liveliest lay.
O Flavius, of thy sweetheart to Catullus thou would'st speak, nor could'st
thou keep silent, were she not both ill-mannered and ungraceful. In truth
thou affectest I know not what hot-blooded whore: this thou art ashamed to
own. For that thou dost not lie alone a-nights thy couch, fragrant with
garlands and Syrian unguent, in no way mute cries out, and eke the pillow
and bolsters indented here and there, and the creakings and joggings of the
quivering bed: unless thou canst silence these, nothing and again nothing
avails thee to hide thy whoredoms. And why? Thou wouldst not display such
drainèd flanks unless occupied in some tomfoolery. Wherefore, whatsoever
thou hast, be it good or ill, tell us! I wish to laud thee and thy loves to
the sky in joyous verse.