David Koehn: Catullus 32 Matching Quiz

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

at siesta

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

prepare yourself

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.

Suits my company? lend a farthing hearing:

            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.

Bides thy will? with a sudden haste command me;

            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 old world is broken:

            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 chaplets of old are above us,

            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

without question,

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

Intention: love.

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.



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

please, Ipsithilla

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.