VIII: Ah poor Catullus, learn to play the fool no more

Ah poor Catullus, learn to play the fool no more.
Lost is the lost, thou know'st it, and the past is past.

Bright once the days and sunny shone the light on thee,
Still ever hasting where she led, the maid so fair,
By me belov'd as maiden is belov'd no more.

Was then enacting all the merry mirth wherein
Thyself delighted, and the maid she said not nay.
Ah truly bright and sunny shone the days on thee.

Now she resigns thee; child, do thou resign no less,
Nor follow her that flies thee, or to bide in woe
Consent, but harden all thy heart, resolve, endure.

Farewell, my love. Catullus is resolv'd, endures,
He will not ask for pity, will not importune.

But thou'lt be mourning thus to pine unask'd alway.
O past retrieval faithless! Ah what hours are thine!
When comes a likely wooer? who protests thou'rt fair?

Who brooks to love thee? who decrees to live thine own?
Whose kiss delights thee? whose the lips that own thy bite?
Yet, yet, Catullus, learn to bear, resolve, endure.