Robinson Ellis - Catullus (Part XLI) lyrics

Ameana, the maiden of the people, Asks me sesterces, all the many thousands. Maiden she with a nose not wholly faultless, Bankrupt Formian, your declar'd devotion. Wherefore look to the maiden, her relations: Call her family, summon all the doctors. Your poor maiden is oddly touch'd; a mirror Sure would lend her a soberer reflexion.