Chapter XXXVIII
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Cornificius, ill is your Catullus,
Ill, ah heaven, a weary weight of anguish,
More more weary with every day, with each hour.
You deny me the least, the very lightest
Help, one whisper of happy thought to cheer me. 5
Nay, I'm sorrowful. You to slight my passion?
Ah! one word, but a tiny word to cheer me,
Sad as ever a tear Simonidean.
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The Poems and Fragments of CatullusChapter XXXVIII
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