Catullus 32: Match the year of publication on the left with the version on the right
In the following listing the publication dates are mismatched with their versions. Can you arrange them properly? What number 1-32 in the right column matches with A? With B? And so on…
1969, Vintage: A Division of Random House, The Poems of Catullus, A Bilingual Edition translated by James Michie
Please, Ipsitilla, sugar,
my doll, kid, baby, please
tell me to come this afternoon;
contribute to my ease
by letting no one lock your door,
by staying where you are; what’s more,
get set to soothe me, as I choose,
with nine uninterrupted screws.
Whatever gives, don’t make me wait:
I’m lying, filled with all I ate,
watching my tunic stand up straight.
1957 Ann Arbor / University of Michigan Press, Catullus. The Complete Poetry, translated by Frank O. Copley
Please, my love, sweet Ipsitilla,
My darling, my own clever girl,
Command my presence at siesta
And if you do, help by ensuring
That no one bolts your outer door
And that you don’t go out on impulse
But stay home and prepare for us
Nine uninterrupted fuctions.
In fact if you’re willing command me now.
I lie back after a large lunch
Boring holes in tunic and cloak.
1966, Penguin Classics, THE POEMS OF CATULLUS, Peter Whigham
Call me to you
we’ll make love
my gold & jewels
my treasure trove
my sweet Ipsithilla,
when you invite
me lock no doors
nor change your mind
& step outside
but stay at home
& in your room
to come nine times
straight off together,
in fact if you
should want it now
I’ll cone at once
for lolling on
the sofa here
with jutting cock
and stuffed with food
I’m ripe for stuffing
my sweet Ipsithilla.
1991, Oxford University Press. World Classics, THE POEMS OF CATULLUS, Guy Lee
I don’t feel like I need to air my grievances with them or anybody else in my translation. I’m just telling you. Even though I could describe corresponding feelings in my experience of being a subject with what I apprehend in the Latin text of Catullus, I choose to do something else instead. Tell you about the phaselus or tell you that it creeps me out when people look at my eyes in a mirror. Don’t do that when we’re talking near a mirror, okay? And in return, I’ll tell you a list of some of the names and epithets.
1959 Bobbs-Merrill, ODI ET AMO, THE COMPLETE POETRY OF CATULLUS, Roy Arthur Swanson
Dear Ipsitilla, my sweetheart.
My darling, precious, beautiful tart,
Invite me round to be your guest
At noon. Say yes, and i’ll request
Another favour: make quite sure
That no one latches the front door
And don’t slip out for a breath of air,
But stay inside, please, and prepare
A love-play with nine long acts in it,
No intervals either! Quick, this minute,
Now if you’re in the giving mood;
For lying here, full of good food,
I feel a second hunger poke
Up through my tunic and my cloak.
1979, Johns Hopkins, THE POEMS OF CATULLUS, Charles Martin
I entreat you, my sweet Ipsitilla, my darling, my charmer, bid me come and spend the afternoon with you. And if you do bid me, grant me this kindness too, that no one may bar the panel of your threshold, nor you yourself have a fancy to go away, but stay at home an have ready for me nine consecutive copulations. And bid me come at once if you are going to at all: for I’m on my back after lunch, thrusting through tunic and cloak.
1894 Catullus. Carmina. Sir Richard Francis Burton. London. Smithers.[VERSE]
Please, please, please, my darling Ipsithilla,
oh my delicate dish, my clever sweetheart,
please invite me home for the siesta–
and, supposing that you do invite me, make sure
no one happens to bolt and bar your shutters,
and that you don’t, on a whim, decide to
go off out: just stay home and prepare for
us nine whole uninterrupted fuckfests.
Fact is, if you’re on, ask me at once, I’ve
lunched, I’m full, flat on my back and bursting
up, up, up, through undershirt and bedclothes!
1894, Catullus. The Carmina of Caius Valerius Catullus. Leonard C. Smithers. London. Smithers.[PROSE]
Please, my sweet Ipsithilla, my delight, my charmer: order me to come to you at noon. And if you should order this, it will be useful if no one makes fast the outer door [against me], and don’t be minded to go out, but stay at home and prepare for us nine continuous love-makings. In truth if you are minded, give the order at once: for breakfast over, I lie supine and ripe, poking through both tunic and cloak.
1913-2005, Harvard University Press, Catullus, translated by F.W. Cornish, Loeb Classical Library .[PROSE]
I want you, my delicious Ipsitilla,
my sweet and my delicate.
Order me to come
at noon and if you can help it,
don’t play with the door bolt
or wander outside.
But wait at home and be ready
for nine continuous fuckings.
Order me on spot. It’s after lunch.
I’m on my back and I’m full of it,
through the hole in my tunic and cloak.
2005, University of California Press, The Poems of Catullus, Peter Green
I beg of you, my sweet, my Ipsitilla,
my darling, my sophisticated beauty,
summon me to a midday assignation;
and, if you’re willing, do me one big favor:
don’t let another client shoot the door bolt,
and don’t decide to suddenly go cruising,
but stay at home & get yourself all ready
for nine–yes, nine–successive copulations!
Honestly, if you want it, give the order:
I’ve eaten, and I’m sated, supinated!
My prick is poking through my cloak & tunic.
1946, The Poems of Catullus, W&W Norton and Company, Horace Gregory
O Mellow, sweet, delicious little
piece, my Ipsithilla,
I love you dearly.
Tell me to come at noon
and I’ll come galloping
at your threshold.
Let no one bar the door today
but stay at home, my little one,
to fit yourself for nine long
bouts of love. And if you’re so inclined,
call me at once;
my morning meal is over
and I reclining
my tree of life (your bedfellow)
has risen joyfully tearing through my clothes,
impatient to be at you.
2004, Catullus, Poems of Love and Hate, Bloodaxe Press, Josephine Balmer
List, I charge thee, my gentle Ipsithilla,
Lovely ravisher and my dainty mistress,
Say we’ll linger a lazy noon together.
See no jealousy make the gate against me,
See no fantasy lead thee out a-roaming.
Keep close chamber; anon in all profusion
Count me kisses again again returning.
Full and wistful, at ease reclin’d, a lover
Here I languish alone, supinely dreaming.
2002, The Complete Poetry of Catullus, The University of Wisconsin Press, David Mulroy
My sweet Hypsithilla, my delight, my merry soul; bid me, like a dear girl, come to you to pass the noon. And if you bid me, add this, that no one bar the gate, that no fancy take you to go abroad, but that you remain at home, and prepare for us no end of amorous delights. But if you agree, summon me immediately, for I am lying on my back after dinner, full, and pampered, and am bursting my tunic and my very cloak.
1866, Stanza 41, Address to Priapus, Algernon Charles Swinburne
XXXII The Rendezvous. To Hypsithilla.
Kind of heart, of beauty bright,
Pleasure’s soul, and love’s delight,
None by nature graced above thee,
Hypsithilla, let me love thee.
Tell me then, that I shall be
Welcome when I come to thee;
And at noon’s inspiring tide
Close thy gate to all beside.
Let no idle wish to roam
Steal thy thought from joys at home;
But prepare thy charms to aid
Every frolic love e’er play’d.
Speed thy message. Day goes fast.
Now’s the hour; the banquet’s past:
Mid-day suns and goblets flowing
Set my frame with passion glowing.
Spend thee, wanton, fair and free!
Tell me I must haste to thee.
1871, The Poems and Fragments of Catullus, Translated in the Metres of the Original, London: John Murray, Albemarle Street; by Robinson Ellis
My Hypsithilla, charming fair,
My life, my soul, ah! hear my prayer:
The grateful summons quickly send,
And bless at noon, with joy, thy friend.
And if my fair one will comply,
And not her sighing swain deny
Take care the door be then unbarr’d,
And let no spy be on the guard.
And thou, the aim of my desire,
Attend at home my amorous fire.
Prepare to meet repeated joy,
Continued bliss without alloy;
Dissolving still in thy dear arms,
Still raised by thy reviving charms,
To onsets fresh of sprightly pleasure,
Tumultuous joy beyond all measure,
But dally not with my desire,
Nor quash with thy delays of fire,
Bursting with love upon my couch I lie,
Forestalling with desire the distant joy.
1887, Erotica. The Poems of Catullus and Tibullus, and The Vigil of Venus., London George Bell and Sons, York Street, Covent Garden, Walter K. Kelly [PROSE]
What broke off the garlands that girt you?
What sundered you spirit and clay?
Weak sins yet alive are as virtue
To the strength of the sins of that day.
For dried is the blood of thy lover,
Ipsithilla, contracted the vein,
Cry aloud ‘Will he rise and recover,
Our Lady of Pain?’
Cry aloud, for the Phrygian is priest,
And rears not the bountiful token
And spreads not the fairly feast.
From the midmost of Ida, from shady
Recesses that murmur at morn,
They have brought and baptized her, Our Lady,
A goddess new-born.
And the oyster bed teems out of reach,
Old poets outsing and outlove us,
And Catullus makes mouths at our speech.
Who shall kiss, in thy father’s own city,
With such lips as he sang with, again?
Intercede for us all of thy pity,
Our Lady of Pain.
1887, Erotica. The Poems of Catullus and Tibullus, and The Vigil of Venus., London George Bell and Sons, York Street, Covent Garden, Walter K. Kelly (Lamb’s verse version)
Be a sweetie, Ipsithilla,
joy and charm personified,
invite me to join in your afternoon nap.
But merely inviting is not enough.
Make certain that nobody locks the door.
Resist your desire to wander the streets.
Stay in the house and prepare to engage
in nine continuous copulations.
If this is agreeable, tell me at once.
I’m lying on my back, digesting my lunch,
and boring a hole in my tunic and cloak.
1887, 1887, Erotica. The Poems of Catullus and Tibullus, and The Vigil of Venus., London George Bell and Sons, York Street, Covent Garden, Walter K. Kelly (Anonymous version)
An Afternoon with Ipsitilla
Please, please me, dear Ipsitilla,
my own sweetness, my so clever,
invite me in for siesta
and I’ll come — but at your leisure.
Don’t block your passage, fold down flaps,
slip off out for other pleasures.
Hold on, get set, let’s fill the gap:
nine full-time, full-on, fuck-fuckings;
just say you’re game, just say you will,
you see I’ve eaten, had my fill,
yet still my lunch-box is bulging.
1996, The erotic spirit: an anthology of poems of sensuality, love, and longing, Shambala Publications, Inc., Sam Hamill
Ipsithilla, baby girl,
Sugar, honey, let me curl
Up with you this afternoon,
Tell me that I can come soon,
Tell me none will bar your door,
That you’re not busy, and what’s more
That you will wait for me and choose
To give me nine successive screws.
Oh, don’t delay, don’t make me wait,
I’m resting, stuffed with all I ate,
Feeling my pecker stand up straight.
1970, Catullus, The Complete Poems for American Readers, E.P. Dutton & CO., INC., New York; Reney Myers and Robert J. Ormsby
Please darling, dear Ipsithilla,
All my pleasure, my only attraction,
Order me to you this afternoon.
And if you do order me, please arrange also
That no one shall get in my was as I enter,
And don’t you go off either at the last moment.
But stay at home and organize for us
Nine copulations in rapid series.
If there’s anything doing, send round immediately;
For here I am, lying in my bed;
I have had my lunch, the thing sticks out of my tunic.
1966, The Poetry of Catullus, Viking Press, C.H. Sisson
My lovely, sweet Ipsithilla,
my delicious, my passion,
call for me this afternoon.
Please send for me so I may come
And don’t sneak off as I enter.
Stay, and wait, and dream up
nine different kinds of copulation
to keep us entertained.
Send for me here, after lunch,
where I’m supine on my bed
with my cock peeking out from my tunic.
1926, Broadway Translations: Catullus: The Complete Poems, London: George Routledge & Sons Ltd, London, F.A. Wright
My dear sweet Ipsitilla,
My pet, you’re the very girl:
Have me report to you this pip emma.
If the answer’s Roger, be sure
(a) No one bolts your door before I do
(b) You don’t get an itch to go roaming.
I want you indoors,
With nine complete plans of campaign.
The exercise? Fucking by numbers.
So: if you’re on, send a runner.
I’ve had my hot meal and I’m in the picture:
Lying here stiff at attention
Bashing holes in my Number One Dress.
1974, Selected Poems of Catullus by Gaius Valerius Catullus, Mason and Lipscomb, Carl Sesar
Ipsithilla, heart’s delight,
Little charmer, dainty sprite,
Ask me in for a siesta,
And arrange it, darling, lest a
Busybody or a bore
Block my way outside your door.
Please don’t take it in your head
To be out, but stay in bed:
Give me nine goes straight away:
If you’re game, –to-day’s the day;
For I’m lying, newly dined,
On my back, with belly lined,
And I’m rising to the test
Right through cloak and right through vest.
1991, Catullus Complete Poetic Works, Spring Publications, Jacob Rabinowitz
I’m a bow, my dual kiss, Ipsithilla,
my daily key, eye, my eye’s little leap-horse,
you bid me to “when,” I’m your meridian.
That: so you see as sure as that adjuvant,
no case, limb, menace obscure your tableland,
no tidbit love you outdoors far as a bier.
Stay home, my man he asks we pair us – no bis –
nine continuous gasps, no refutations.
Very, so he could, yes start if you bid to:
he’s primed now a joke-stuffed satyr, so pin us!
pert under the tunic, pulling up the quilt.
1950, The Poems of Catullus, E. P. Dutton; William Aiken
O please, my sweet Ipsitilla, dear delightsome child, let
me come visit you at noon?
You will? And one other thing–be sure no-one else is
there. Be sure you’re at home, leave the door
unlocked, get ready
for nine uninterrupted fucks. In fact, why not now?
I just had lunch, I’m lolling here, gorged,
and practically punching a hole through my toga.
1969, Catullus, Cape Goliard Press. London. Celia and Louis Zukofsky
Come on, my little Ipsithilla sweet,
you delicious piece, be a good girl
and let me take a nap with you.
Say the word, and if you do, be nice,
don’t lock the door on me,
or pull a disappearing act,
but just stay home, warm it up,
and spread out nine straight fucks for me.
How about right now, in fact?
I mean I’m full, and flat on my back,
blasting through my underwear for you.
1929, CATULLUS CATULLI CARMINA, THE POEMS OF CATULLUS; London, The Piazza Press, F.C.W. Hiley,
My dearest dear, my sweetest pet,
Send me a line, and don’t forget,
This afternoon; and, if you do,
Be sure you don’t a-shopping go,
So that I find you not at home;
But wait indoors until I come.
Pray, let me have your answer quick
And I’ll be with you in a tick:
For I am ready for the fray
And promise you nine rounds to-day.
1979, THE POEMS OF CATULLUS, David R. Godine Publisher, Frederic Raphael and Kenneth McLeish,
Ipsithilla sweet, my pretty pet,
soul of my pleasure! Pray do not forget
to send me grateful information soon
that you’re receiving guests this afternoon;
and if, my darling, you will but agree
to save one hour privately for me,
then bar your friendly gates to all beside
myself; don’t let a foolish whim to ride
abroad remove you from my sight, but stay
till each intemperate frolic love can play
has been enjoyed by us nine times–or more,
if I can further raise the lusty score!
Hasten your summons then, for time runs fast;
dinner is ended, and the sun is past
the zenith; garlands fade; the goblet’s dry;
by you I’d eager stand, as here I lie
alone, full-surfeited, aroused aflame to fire
the furnace of reciprocal desire.
1983, Catullus, Duckworth Pub., G.P. Goold
Sweet Ipsithilla, see me soon,
O be a dear, you sweet young thing,
ask me to visit you at noon.
If yes it is, don’t change once more
and bid some servant bar the door;
and don’t rush out to call or shop,
but nicely wait for what I’ll bring,
and then, nine hugs without a stop!
So, if you’re there, at once reply.
I’ve lunched and sprawling here I lie
with tunic monstrously awry.
1948, Catullus: The Complete Poems, Sylvan Press, Jack Lindsay
L’Après-midi d’un faune
Please, my darling Ipsitilla,
my beloved, my delight,
invite me to your place to spend the afternoon.
And if you do, have the further kindness to see
that no one locks the panel on your threshold,
and don’t take it into your head to go out,
but stay at home and have ready for me
nine consecutive copulations.
And invite me at once if you are going to at all:
for I’m on my bed after lunch, supine and fed,
thrusting through tunic and cloak.
2011, The Poems of Gaius Valerius Catullus, Krupskaya Press, Brandon Brown
my darling, my delight
tell me you’ll be home
when I come in the hotly still of noon
tell me and if you tell
be this much kind to me
no lock to block the door
no note “gone out back soon”
stay home and make you ready for me
nine times to feel the pulse of love.
what? you’ll be busy?
then tell me now
for I lie full and flat, and feel
love knocking, beating at my passion’s door.
2008, The Complete Poems of Gaius Valerius Catullu, Bootstrap Press, Ryan Gallagher
I’ll love my Ipsithilla sweetest,
My desires and my Wit the meetest,
So bid me join thy nap o’ noon!
Then (after bidding) add the boon
Undraw thy threshold-bolt none dare,
Lest thou be led afar to fare;
Nay bide at home, for us prepare
Nine-fold continuous love-delights.
But aught do thou to hurry things,
For dinner-full I lie aback,
And gown and tunic through I crack.