Robinson Ellis - Catullus (Part XXIII) lyrics

Needy Furius, house nor hoard possessing, Bug or spider, or any fire to thaw you, Yet most blest in a father and a step-dame, Each for penury fit to tooth a flint-stone: Is not happiness yours? a home united? Son, sire, mother, a lathy dame to match him. Who can wonder? in all is health, digestion, Pure and vigorous, hours without a trouble. Fires ye fear not, or house's heavy downfal, Deeds unnatural, art in act to poison, Dangers myriad accidents befalling. Then your bodies? in every limb a shrivell'd Horn, all dryness in all the world whatever, Tann'd or frozen or icy-lean with ages.15 Sure superlative happiness surrounds thee. Thee sweat frets not, an o'er-saliva frets not, Frets not snivel or oozy rheumy nostril. Yet such purity lacks not e'en a purer. White those haunches as any cleanly-silver'd Salt, it takes you a month to barely dirt them. Then like beans, or inert as e'er a pebble, Those impeccable heavy loins, a finger's Breadth from apathy ne'er seduced to riot. Such prosperity, such superb profusion, Slight not, Furius, idly nor reject not. As for sesterces, all the would-be fortune, Cease to wish it; enough, methinks, the present.