Venice masks

Tuesday, 21 July 2026

Liber III: Ye Venuses and Cupids mourn, - Catullus

Ye Venuses and Cupids mourn,
Ye whom the graces most adorn.
Come, and your tears of sorrow shed:
My Lesbia's little bird is dead—
Her darling sparrow; here he lies,
Whom she loved better than her eyes.
Sweet fellow, who from every other
Knew her, as does the. child her mother.
Would in her bosom, nestling lie.
And when his mistress called him, fly,
And here and there as round he fluttered
His cheerful chirping peepings uttered.
New he has gone to that dark place,
Whose dismal pathway none retrace.
But out upon thee! Orcus drear,
Devouring all things lovely here:
Who to thy dwelling dark and narrow,
Hast borne away my pretty sparrow.
Ah! hapless sparrow—cruel fate!
See my poor girl disconsolate,
Sobs o’er her pet beside her lying,
Till her swollen eyes are red with crying.

Gaius Valerius Catullus (c. 84 BC – c. 54 BC) Italy (ancient Rome)
Translated by W.B. Bliss
Source: Translations from Catullus, Horace, &c. by W.B. Bliss, Halifax, 1872

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