Aufugit mi animus; credo, ut solet, ad Theotimum
devenit. sic est; perfugium illud habet.
quid si non interdixem ne illunc fugitivum
mitteret ad se intro, sed magis eiceret?
ibimus quaesitum. verum, ne ipsi teneamur,
formido. quid ago? da, Venus, consilium.
(Catulus, fr. 1)
My soul has run away; to Theotimus, I think, as usual, it has fled. So it is: it always has him as sanctuary. It’s not as if I hadn’t forbidden him to admit that runaway to his home, but to throw him out. We shall go in search. But I’m afraid we’ll be caught as well. What to do? Venus, advise. (tr. Peter E. Knox)
Crambe Repetita 