Robinson Ellis - Catullus (Part LXV) lyrics

Though, outworn with sorrow, with hours of torturous anguish, Ortalus, I no more tarry the Muses among; Though from a fancy deprest fair blooms of poesy budding Rise not at all; such grief rocks me, uneasily stirr'd: Coldly but even now mine own dear brother in ebbing Lethe his ice-wan feet laveth, a shadowy ghost. He whom Troy's deep bosom, a shore Rhoetean above him, Rudely denies these eyes, heavily crushes in earth. Ah! no more to address thee, or hear thy kindly replying, Brother! O e'en than life round me delightfuller yet, Ne'er to behold thee again! Still love shall fail not alone in Fancy to muse d**h's dark elegy, closely to weep. Closely as under boughs of dimmest shadow the pensive Daulian ever moans Itys in agony slain. Yet mid such desolation a verse I tender of ancient Battiades, new-drest, Ortalus, wholly for you. Lest to the roving winds these words all idly deliver'd, Seem too soon from a frail memory fallen away. E'en as a furtive gift, sent, some love-apple, a-wooing, Leaps from breast of a coy maiden, a canopy pure; There forgotten alas, mid vestments silky reposing,— Soon as a mother's step starts her, it hurleth adown: Straight to the ground, dash'd forth ungently, the gift shoots headlong; She in tell-tale cheeks glows a disorderly shame.