stima il Perreio; ovvero quale ὰποσπασμάτιον catulliani poematis, quod peirierit, com’è opinione dello Stazio, del Teuffel e dello Spengel, certo è, che in questo loco ci stanno a evidente sproposito. Anche Byron, che tradusse, a modo suo, questo carme, non facendo caso di codesti versi, preferì l’ultima strofa della divina fanciulla di Lesbo. Riporterò per intero la versione inglese per mostrare che sì può esser grandi poeti e fare delle cattive traduzioni.
Translation from Catullus ad Lesbiam.
Equal to Jove that youth must he, —
Greater than Jove he seems to me —
Who, free from Jealousy’s alarms
Secureley views thy matchles charms.
That cheek, which aver dimpling glows,
That mouth, from whence such music flows,
To him alike are always known,
Reserved for him, and him alone.
Ah, Lesbia! though’t is death to me,
I cannot choose but look on thee;
But at the sight my senses fly;
I needs must gaze, but, gazing, die;
Whilst trembling with a thousand fears,
Parch’d to the throat my tongue adheres,
My pulse beats quick, my breath heaves short,
My limbs deny their slight support,
Gold dews my pallid face o’erspread
Wìth deadly langaor droops my head,
My ears with tingling echoes ring.
And life itself is on the wing;
My eyes refuse the cheering light,
Their orbs are veiled in starless night:
Such pangs my nature sinks beneath
And feels a temporary death.
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