Catullus

Catullus wrote of love and its loss in poetry. It is unknown precisely when he began writing, though it was likely between 84 B.C. (his birth) and 54 B.C. (his death) (Norton 921). He was considered a “neoteric,” or new poet, and rejected the fashionable style of poetry from the period: the epic (Poets.org). The poems found in The Norton Anthology: Western Literature, Vol. 1 are a mere handful of the 116 poems he left behind, though they speak plainly of his passion for--and suffering over--the woman he calls "Lesbia" (Norton 921). This is due to his personal style, which is such that it touches the audience because it exposes a very vulnerable image that is reminiscent of Sappho's love poems. Catullus’ poems are most interesting because together or apart, they tell a story of love (and its loss) that reaches across generations. 

Lesbia and Catullus' love story is a rocky one. "Lesbia, let us live only for loving" is the first line of poem 5, which perfectly sums up the beginning emotions of any romantic relationship (Norton 922). It is from here that we see the shape of something beautiful beginning to blossom. Then, poem 2 expresses a playful intimacy with the pure image of a sparrow standing in for something a little more risqué (921). All stages of love are seen in Catullus' verses, as we go from Lesbia being the boon of his heart to its bane (no, not that kind of Bane). In 109, Catullus describes feelings of doubt in the reciprocation of his love for Lesbia, "Darling, we'll both have equal shares in the sweet love you offer,/ and it will endure forever--you assure me" (Norton 923, lines 1-2). In 83, we find that Lesbia is married, and as she says hurtful things to Catullus, he contents himself by insulting Lesbia's husband and calling him a fool (923, lines 1-3). He also believes the reason for Lesbia's abuse is simply that she has not forgotten her love for Catullus and "...this burns her" (923, line 6).


As Catullus' rocky love story continues, he writes in poem 70, "...what a woman says to a passionate lover/ ought to be scribbled on wind, on running water" (Norton 924, lines 3-4), 72 "Now that I know you... ...I regard you as almost utterly worthless" and "...cruelty forces/lust to assume the shrunken place of affection" (lines 5-8). From poem 85 and on until poem 76, everything goes downhill. In poem  76, lines 17-19 sum up the emotion of one trying to heal the hurt of a lost love: "O gods, if pity is yours, or if ever to any/ who lay near death you offered the gift of your mercy, look on my suffering..." (Norton 926).


The beauty of this work is its pure agony as well as its superb joy. The words are felt so powerfully in their telling that one cannot help but feel for Catullus in his story of lost love.