Catullus 62

Original Latin

Vesper adest, iuvenes, consurgite: Vesper Olympo

exspectata diu vix tandem lumina tollit.

surgere iam tempus, iam pinguis linquere mensas,

iam veniet virgo, iam dicetur hymenaeus.

Hymen o Hymenaee, Hymen ades o Hymenaee!

Cernitis, innuptae, iuvenes? consurgite contra;

nimirum Oetaeos ostendit Noctifer ignes.

sic certest; viden ut perniciter exsiluere?

non temere exsiluere, canent quod vincere par est.

Hymen o Hymenaee, Hymen ades o Hymenaee!

non facilis nobis, aequales, palma parata est:

aspicite, innuptae secum ut meditata requirunt.

non frustra meditantur: habent memorabile quod sit;

nec mirum, penitus quae tota mente laborant.

nos alio mentes, alio divisimus aures;

iure igitur vincemur: amat victoria curam.

quare nunc animos saltem convertite vestros;

dicere iam incipient, iam respondere decebit.

Hymen o Hymenaee, Hymen ades o Hymenaee!

Hespere, quis caelo fertur crudelior ignis?

qui natam possis complexu avellere matris,

complexu matris retinentem avellere natam,

et iuveni ardenti castam donare puellam.

quid faciunt hostes capta crudelius urbe?

Hymen o Hymenaee, Hymen ades o Hymenaee!

Hespere, quis caelo lucet iucundior ignis?

qui desponsa tua firmes conubia flamma,

quae pepigere viri, pepigerunt ante parentes,

nec iunxere prius quam se tuus extulit ardor.

quid datur a divis felici optatius hora?

Hymen o Hymenaee, Hymen ades o Hymenaee!

Hesperus e nobis, aequales, abstulit unam.

* * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * *

namque tuo adventu vigilat custodia semper,

nocte latent fures, quos idem saepe reuertens,

Hespere, mutato comprendis nomine Eous

at lubet innuptis ficto te carpere questu.

quid tum, si carpunt, tacita quem mente requirunt?

Hymen o Hymenaee, Hymen ades o Hymenaee!

Ut flos in saeptis secretus nascitur hortis,

ignotus pecori, nullo convolsus aratro,

quem mulcent aurae, firmat sol, educat imber;

multi illum pueri, multae optavere puellae:

idem cum tenui carptus defloruit ungui,

nulli illum pueri, nullae optavere puellae:

sic virgo, dum intacta manet, dum cara suis est;

cum castum amisit polluto corpore florem,

nec pueris iucunda manet, nec cara puellis.

Hymen o Hymenaee, Hymen ades o Hymenaee!

Ut vidua in nudo vitis quae nascitur aruo,

numquam se extollit, numquam mitem educat uvam,

sed tenerum prono deflectens pondere corpus

iam iam contingit summum radice flagellum;

hanc nulli agricolae, nulli coluere iuvenci:

at si forte eadem est ulmo coniuncta marito,

multi illam agricolae, multi coluere iuvenci:

sic virgo dum intacta manet, dum inculta senescit;

cum par conubium maturo tempore adepta est,

cara viro magis et minus est invisa parenti.

Hymen o Hymenaee, Hymen ades o Hymenaee!

Et tu ne pugna cum tali coniuge virgo.

non aequom est pugnare, pater cui tradidit ipse,

ipse pater cum matre, quibus parere necesse est.

virginitas non tota tua est, ex parte parentum est,

tertia pars patrest, pars est data tertia matri,

tertia sola tua est: noli pugnare duobus,

qui genero suo iura simul cum dote dederunt.

Hymen o Hymenaee, Hymen ades o Hymenaee!

My Translation

Bachelors, evening is here, rise!

Evening, long-awaited, 

at last lifts his light from Olympus. 

Bachelors, rise! Leave the bountiful tables, 

for the bride will now come, 

and the wedding song will be sung. 

Hymen O Hymenaee,

Hymen arrive, O Hymenaee!

Do you see them, bachelors, the maidens? Rise and meet them!

The Evening Star shines with Thessalian fire – do you see how excitedly they leap up?

They have not risen in vain – the song must be sung. 

Hymen O Hymenaee,

Hymen arrive, O Hymenaee!

Our prize, my friends, is not easily won –

by God, look at how those maidens tirelessly rehearse! 

They will not practice in vain, for their song is worth remembering–

it’s no wonder they strain their minds.

But we let our thoughts run off one way, our ears another–

if we do not stop, we will rightly be beaten:

victory rewards hard work. So focus!

They will soon sing, and we must answer. 

Hymen O Hymenaee,

Hymen arrive, O Hymenaee!

Evening Star, who tears a daughter, clinging desperately,

from her mother’s embrace 

and gives the pure maiden to the

burning passion of her husband, 

what heavenly fire is crueler than you?

What do enemies, besieging a city, 

do that could ever be worse?

Hymen O Hymenaee,

Hymen arrive, O Hymenaee!

Evening Star, who strengthens a marriage bond with your flame,

who secures what men and parents have promised, 

what heavenly light is kinder than you?

What other gift granted by the gods 

to the fortunate could ever be better than yours?

Hymen O Hymenaee,

Hymen arrive, O Hymenaee!

Evening Star, you’ve stolen one of us away!

When you awaken, the clock is not resting –

thieves hide in the shadows, 

who you catch when you return under a different name:

Morning Star. 

But still, the maidens love to complain about you, with 

disingenuous cries. 

Why do they complain, when it’s the same you they long for?

Hymen O Hymenaee,

Hymen arrive, O Hymenaee!

The rain cultivates the flower, 

sheltered in a fenced garden 

ungrazed by cattle, unharmed by plough, 

caressed by the breeze, strengthened by sun, 

which many young men and maidens yearn for;

but once plucked and fallen from bloom, 

no bachelors, no girls desire it.

A maiden, pure, is endearing to all. But when 

she loses her flower of chastity, 

her body stained with sex, 

she pleases no boy, 

and delights no girl. 

Hymen O Hymenaee,

Hymen arrive, O Hymenaee!

A vine, growing alone in a barren wood, 

never rises to the heavens, nor carries a gentle grape–

its tender body collapses under its own weight, 

kissing the roots with its tip–

no farmers bother to tend it, nor oxen push it to grow. 

A maiden, pure, grows old uncultivated–

but if she marries well at the right time, 

she will be dearer to her husband, and 

less of a burden for her parents. 

Hymen O Hymenaee,

Hymen arrive, O Hymenaee!

And you, bride, do not fight with your husband! 

It’s not right to struggle with the one 

your father himself gifted to you – you must obey the one

your father himself and your mother gave. 

Your purity is not just your own –

a third belongs to your father, another third to your mother, 

only one third to you. Do not fight against the majority 

who have given their rights and money 

to your husband. 

Hymen O Hymenaee,

Hymen arrive, O Hymenaee!