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65 Although care regularly and sadly draws tired me away from the learned maidens, Hortalus, nor is the

mind able to bring forth the sweet things of the Muses, it itself surges with evil things for recently the flowing wave of the whirlpool Lethaeus has washed the pale toe of my brother, who the Trojan soil crushes under the Rhoetian shore Removed from our sight. Will I never see you, brother more loved than life, afterwards? And surely, I will always love you, I will always sing songs for your sad death, the Daulian bird sings under the dense shadow of boughs, lamenting the lost fate of Itylus -But nevertheless in such sorrows, Hortalus, I send these copied verses of Battiades to you, so that you will not think your verses to have flowed out luckily from my mind, vainly trusted to the winds, just as an apple sent to her betrothed juts out from the chaste lap of the maiden, which, forgotten, placed under a soft gown, falls out as she jumps forward while the mother has come, and then, see forward, it rolls and runs downwards, a conscious blush flows over this face.

70 My girl says that she wishes to marry no one than me, not if Jupiter himself asked her. She says this: but what a loving woman says with desire it is fitting to write it on the wind and rapid water. 72 You once said to know only Catullus, Lesbia, and not to wish to hold Jove before me. I loved you then not as a friendly mob, but as a father loves his sons and sons-in-law. Now I have known you: thus, although I am burned more exceedingly, nevertheless you are more vile and capricious to me. In what way is this able to be, you ask? Because such a harm compels a lover

to love more, but to be want to be less agreeable.