Chapter C: Sollivs Modestvs Apollinaris Sidonivs (2)

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NO wrath of Men, or rage of Seas,
Can shake a just man's purposes:
No threats of Tyrants, or the Grim
Visage of them can alter him;
But what he doth at first entend
That he holds firmly to the end.

HERRICK.

THE man of firm and noble soul
No factious clamours can control:
No threatening tyrant's darkling brow
Can swerve him from his just intent;
Gales the warring waves which plough,
By Auster on the billows spent,
To curb the Adriatic main
Would awe his fixed determined mind in vain.

Ay, and the red right arm of Jove,
Hurtling his lightnings from above,
With all his terrors there unfurled,
He would unmoved, unawed behold.
The flames of an expiring world,
Again in crushing chaos rolled,
In vast promiscuous ruin hurled,
Might light his glorious funeral pile,
Still dauntless 'mid the wreck of earth he'd smile.

BYRON.

_145_

BANDUSIA, stainless mirror of the sky!
Thine is the flower-crowned bowl, for thee shall die
When dawns yon sun, the kid
Whose horns, half-seen, half-hid,

Challenge to dalliance or to strife--in vain.
Soon must the firstling of the wild herd be slain,
And these cold springs of thine
With blood incarnadine.

Fierce glows the Dog-star, but his fiery beam
Toucheth not thee: still grateful thy cool stream
To labour-wearied ox,
Or wanderer from the flocks:

And henceforth thou shalt be a royal fountain:
My harp shall tell how from thy cavernous mountain,
Where the brown oak grows tallest,
All babblingly thou fallest.

C.S. CALVERLEY.

_148_

The rendering that follows is printed in the author's _Ionica_ not as a translation, but as a poem, under the title _Hypermnestra_. It represents our poem of Horace from the 25th line onwards.

LET me tell of Lydè of wedding-law slighted,
Penance of maidens and bootless task,
Wasting of water down leaky cask,
Crime in the prison-pit slowly requited.

Miscreant brides! for their grooms they slew.
One out of many is not attainted,
One alone blest and for ever sainted,
False to her father, to wedlock true.

Praise her! she gave her young husband the warning.
Praise her for ever! She cried, 'Arise!
Flee from the slumber that deadens the eyes;
Flee from the night that hath never a morning.

Baffle your host who contrived our espousing,
Baffle my sisters, the forty and nine,
Raging like lions that mangle the kine,
Each on the blood of a quarry carousing.

I am more gentle, I strike not thee,
I will not hold thee in dungeon tower.
Though the king chain me, I will not cower,
Though my sire banish me over the sea.

Freely run, freely sail, good luck attend thee;
Go with the favour of Venus and Night.
On thy tomb somewhere and some day bid write
Record of her who hath dared to befriend thee.'

W. JOHNSON CORY.

_149_

UNSHAMED, unchecked, for one so dear
We sorrow. Lead the mournful choir,
Melpomene, to whom thy sire
Gave harp and song-notes liquid-clear!

Sleeps he the sleep that knows no morn?
O Honour, O twin-born with Right,
Pure Faith, and Truth that loves the light,
When shall again his like be born?

Many a kind heart for him makes moan;
Thine, Vergil, first. But ah! in vain
Thy love bids heaven restore again
That which it took not as a loan.

Were sweeter lute than Orpheus' given
To thee, did trees thy voice obey;
The blood revisits not the clay
Which he, with lifted wand, hath driven

Into his dark assemblage, who
Unlocks not fate to mortal's prayer.
Hard lot. Yet light their griefs, who _bear_
The ills which they may not undo.

C.S. CALVERLEY.

_152, ii_

THE snow, dissolv'd, no more is seen,
The fields and woods, behold, are green;
The changing year renews the plain,
The rivers know their banks again;
The sprightly Nymph and naked Grace
The mazy dance together trace;
The changing year's successive plan
Proclaims mortality to Man.
Rough winter's blasts to spring give way,
Spring yields to summer's sovran ray;
Then summer sinks in autumn's reign,
And winter holds the world again.
Her losses soon the moon supplies,
But wretched Man, when once he lies
Where Priam and his sons are laid,
Is naught but ashes and a shade.
Who knows if Jove, who counts our score,
Will toss us in a morning more?
What with your friend you nobly share
At least you rescue from your heir.
Not you, Torquatus, boast of Rome,
When Minos once has fixed your doom,
Or eloquence or splendid birth
Or virtue shall restore to earth.
Hippolytus, unjustly slain,
Diana calls to life in vain,
Nor can the might of Theseus rend
The chains of hell that hold his friend.

SAMUEL JOHNSON.

_153_

NOW have I made my monument: and now
Nor brass shall longer live, nor loftier raise
The royallest pyramid its superb brow.
Nor ruin of rain or wind shall mar its praise,
Nor tooth of Time, nor pitiless pageantry
O' the flying years. In death I shall not die
Wholly, nor Death's dark Angel all I am
Make his; but ever flowerlike my fame
Shall flourish in the foldings of the Mount
Capitoline, where the Priests go up, and mute
The maiden Priestesses.
From mean account
Lifted to mighty, where the resolute
Waters ot Aufidus reverberant ring
O'er fields where Daunus once held rustic state,
Of barren acres simple-minded king,--
There was I born, and first of men did mate
To lyre of Latium Aeolic lay.
Clothe thee in glory, Muse, and grandly wear
Thy hardly-gotten greatness, and my hair
Circle, Melpomene, with Delphian bay.

H.W.G.

_161_

HE who sublime in epic numbers rolled,
And he who struck the softer lyre of love,
By Death's unequal hand alike controlled,
Fit comrades in Elysian regions move!

BYRON.

_166_

HAD he not hands of rare device, whoe'er
First painted Love in figure of a boy?
He saw what thoughtless beings lovers were,
Who blessings lose, whilst lightest cares employ.

Nor added he those airy wings in vain,
And bade through human hearts the godhead fly;
For we are tost upon a wavering main;
Our gale, inconstant, veers around the sky.

Nor, without cause, he grasps those barbed darts,
The Cretan quiver o'er his shoulder cast;
Ere we suspect a foe, he strikes our hearts;
And those inflicted wounds for ever last.

In me are fix'd those arrows, in my breast;
But sure his wings are shorn, the boy remains;
For never takes he flight, nor knows he rest;
Still, still I feel him warring through my veins.

In these scorch'd vitals dost thou joy to dwell?
Oh shame! to others let thy arrows flee;
Let veins untouch'd with all thy venom swell;
Not me thou torturest, but the shade of me.

Destroy me--who shall then describe the fair?
This my light Muse to thee high glory brings:
When the nymph's tapering fingers, flowing hair,
And eyes of jet, and gliding feet she sings.

ELTON.

_179_

NO longer, Paullus, vex with tears my tomb:
There is no prayer can open the black gate.
When once the dead have passed beneath the doom,
Barred is the adamant and vows too late.

E'en though the lord of hell should list thy prayer,
Thy tears shall idly soak the sullen shores:
Vows may move heaven; when Charon holds his fee,
The grass-grown pile stands closed by lurid doors.

So the sad trumpets told their funeral tale
While from the bier the torch dislodged my frame;
What did my husband, what my sires avail,
Or all these numerous pledges of my fame?

Did I, Cornelia, find the fates less harsh?
Five fingers now can lift my weight complete.
Accursed nights, and stagnant Stygian marsh,
And every sluggish wave that clogs my feet,

Early yet guiltless came I to this bourne;
So let the sire deal gently with my shade
If Aeacus sit judge with ordered urn,
By kin upon my bones be judgement made:

There let his brothers sit, the Furies fill
By Minos' seat the Court, an audience grave.
Let Sisyphus rest, Ixion's wheel be still,
And Tantalus once grasp the fleeting wave;

To-day let surly Cerberus hunt no shade,
By the mute bar loose let his fetters lie.
I plead my cause: if guilty, be there laid
On me that urn, the sisters' penalty.

If any may boast trophies of old days,
Still Libya tells my sires the Scipios' name;
My mother's line their Libo peers displays,
And each great house stands propp'd by scrolls of fame.

When I doffed maiden garb 'neath torches' glow,
And with the nuptial band my locks were tied,
'Twas to thy bed I came, doomed thus to go:
Let my stone say I was but once a bride.

Those ashes by Rome reverenced I attest,
Whose titles tell how Afric's pride was shorn,
Perseus that feigned his sire Achilles' breast,
And him that brought Achilles' house to scorn;

For me the censor's rule ne'er swerved from place,
Your hearth need never blush for shame of mine:
Cornelia brought such relics no disgrace,
Herself a model to her mighty line.

I never changed, I lived without a stain
Betwixt the marriage and the funeral fire:
Nature gave laws drawn from my noble strain,
Fear of no judge could higher life inspire.

Let any urn pass sentence stern on me:
None will be shamed that I should sit beside;
Not she, rare maid of tower-crowned Cybele,
That hauled the lagging goddess up the tide;

Not she for whom, when Vesta claimed her fire,
The linen white revealed the coals aglow.
What changed in me but fate would'st thou desire,
Sweet mother mine? I never wrought thee woe.

Her tears, the city's grief, applaud my fame:
And Caesar's sobs plead for these bones of mine;
His daughter's worthy sister's loss they blame,
And we saw tears upon that face divine.

And yet I won the matron's robe of state,
'Twas from no barren house that I was torn:
Paullus and Lepidus, balm of my fate,
Upon your breast my closing eyes were borne.

My brother twice I saw in curule place,
Consul what time his sister ceased to be.
Child, of thy father's censorship the trace,
Cleave to one husband only, copy me.

Prop the great race in line: my bark of choice
Sets sail, my loss so many to restore.
Woman's last triumph is when common voice
Applauds the pyre of her whose work is o'er.

These common pledges to thee I commend:
Still burned into my ashes breathes this care.
Father, the mother's offices attend:
This my whole troop thy shoulders now must bear.

When thou shalt kiss their tears, kiss too for me:
Henceforth thy load must be the house complete.
If thou must weep with them not there to see,
When present, with dry cheeks their kisses cheat.

Enough those nights thou weariest out for me,
Those dreams that often shall my semblance feign;
And with my shade in secret colloquy,
Speak as to one to answer back again.

But should the gate confront another bed,
And on my couch a jealous step-dame sit,
Laud, boys, and praise the bride your sire has wed;
She will be won charmed with your ready wit.

Nor praise your mother overmuch; she may
Feel contrast and free words to insult turn.
But if contented with my shade he stay,
And hold my ashes of such high concern;

His coming age learn to anticipate,
Leave to the widower's cares no path confessed.
Be added to your years what mine abate,
And in my children Paullus' age be blessed.

'Tis well: for child I ne'er wore mourning weed;
But my whole troop came to my obsequies.
My plea is done. While grateful earth life's meed
Repays, in tears ye witnesses arise.
Heaven opes to such deserts; may mine me speed
To join my honoured fathers in the skies.

L.J. LATHAM.

_217_

I give a part of the version of Stepney, whom Dr. Johnson describes as 'a very licentious translator'.

IF mighty gods can mortal sorrows know,
And be the humble partners of our woe,
Now loose your tresses, pensive Elegy,--
Too well your office and your name agree.
Tibullus, once the joy and pride of Fame,
Lies now--rich fuel--on the trembling flame;
Sad Cupid now despairs of conquering hearts,
Throws by his empty quiver, breaks his darts,
Eases his useless bows from idle strings.
Nor flies, but humbly creeps with flagging wings--
He wants, of which he robbed fond lovers, rest,--
And wounds with furious hands his pensive breast.
Those graceful curls which wantonly did flow,
The whiter rivals of the falling snow,
Forget their beauty and in discord lie,
Drunk with the fountain from his melting eye.
. . . . . . . .
In vain to gods (if gods there are) we pray,
And needless victims prodigally pay;
Worship their sleeping deities, yet Death
Scorns votaries and stops the praying breath:
To hallowed shrines intending Fate will come,
And drag you from the altar to the tomb.
Go, frantic poet, with delusions fed,
Thick laurels guard your consecrated head--
Now the sweet master of your art is dead.
What can _we_ hope, since that a narrow span
Can measure the remains of thee, Great Man?
. . . . . . . .
If any poor remains survive the flames
Except thin shadows and mere empty names,
Free in Elysium shall Tibullus rove,
Nor fear a second death should cross his love.
There shall Catullus, crowned with bays, impart
To his far dearer friend his open heart;
There Gallus (if Fame's hundred tongues all lie)
Shall, free from censure, no more rashly die.
Such shall our poet's blest companions be,
And in their deaths, as in their lives, agree.
But thou, rich Urn, obey my strict commands,
Guard thy great charge from sacrilegious hands;
Thou, Earth, Tibullus' ashes gently use,
And be as soft and easy as his Muse.

G. STEPNEY.

_240_

AFTER death nothing is, and nothing death--
The utmost limits of a gasp of breath.
Let the ambitious zealot lay aside
His hope of heaven, whose faith is but his pride;
Let slavish souls lay by their fear,
Nor be concerned which way, or where,
After this life they shall be hurled.
Dead, we become the lumber of the world,
And to that mass of matter shall be swept
Where things destroyed with things unborn are kept.
Devouring Time swallows us whole,
Impartial Death confounds body and soul.
For Hell and the foul Fiend that rules
The everlasting fiery goals,
Devised by rogues, dreaded by fools,
With his grim grisly dog that keeps the door,
Are senseless stories, idle tales,
Dreams, whimsies and no more.

JOHN WILMOT, EARL OF ROCHESTER.

_261_

AND so Death took him. Yet be comforted:
Above this sea of sorrow lift thy head.
Death--or his shadow--look, is over all;
What but an alternating funeral
The long procession of the nights and days?
The starry heavens fail, the solid earth
Fails and its fashion. Why, beholding this,
Why with our wail o'er sad mortality
Mourn we for men, mere men, that fade and fall?
Battle or shipwreck, love or lunacy,
Some warp o' the will, some taint o' the blood, some touch
Of winter's icy breath, the Dog-star's rage
Relentless, or the dank and ghostly mists
Of Autumn--any or all of these suffice
To die by. In the fee and fear of Fate
Lives all that is. We one by one depart
Into the silence--one by one. The Judge
Shakes the vast urn: the lot leaps forth: we die.
But _he_ is happy, and you mourn in vain.
He has outsoared the envy of gods and men,
False fortune and the dark and treacherous way,
--Scatheless: he never lived to pray for death,
Nor sinned--to fear her, nor deserved to die.
We that survive him, weak and full of woes,
Live ever with a fearful eye on Death--
The how and when of dying: 'Death' the thunder,
'Death' the wild lightning speaks to us.
In vain,--
Atedius hearkens not to words of mine.
Yet shall he hearken to the dead: be done,
Sweet lad he loved, be done with Death, and come,
Leaving the dark Tartarean halls, come hither;
Come, for thou canst: 'tis not to Charon given,
Nor yet to Cerberus, to keep in thrall
The innocent soul: come to thy father, soothe
His sorrow, dry his eyes, and day and night
A living voice be with him--look upon him,
Tell him thou art not dead (thy sister mourns,
Comfort her, comfort as a brother can)
And win thy parents back to thee again.

H.W.G.

_262_

WHAT sin was mine, sweet, silent boy-god, Sleep,
Or what, poor sufferer, have I left undone,
That I should lack thy guerdon, I alone?
Quiet are the brawling streams: the shuddering deep
Sinks, and the rounded mountains feign to sleep.
The high seas slumber pillowed on Earth's breast;
All flocks and birds and beasts are stilled in rest,
But my sad eyes their nightly vigil keep.
O! if beneath the night some happier swain,
Entwined in loving arms, refuse thy boon
In wanton happiness,--come hither soon,
Come hither, Sleep. Let happier mortals gain
The full embrace of thy soft angel wing:
But touch me with thy wand, or hovering
Above mine eyelids sweep me with thy train.

W.H. FYFE.

I append six _Sonnets to Sleep_ by six English poets of very different genius, none of whom, save perhaps Drummond, seems to have been influenced by Statius. Cowley's poem _To Sleep_ in the _Mistress_ may perhaps also be read--the last line shows that Cowley recalled Statius.

COME, Sleep, O Sleep! the certain knot of peace,
The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe,
The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release,
The indifferent judge between the high and low;
With shield of proof shield me from out the prease
Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw:
Oh, make in me those civil wars to cease!
I will good tribute pay if thou do so.
Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed,
A chamber deaf to noise and blind of light,
A rosy garland and a weary head:
And if these things, as being thine by right,
Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me
Livelier than elsewhere Stella's image see.

SIDNEY.

CARE-CHARMER Sleep, son of the sable Night,
Brother to Death, in silent darkness born,
Relieve my languish and restore the light;
With dark forgetting of my care, return:
And let the day be time enough to mourn
The shipwreck of my ill-adventured youth:
Let waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn,
Without the torment of the night's untruth.
Cease dreams, the images of day's desires,
To model forth the passions of the morrow;
Never let rising Sun approve you liars,
To add more grief to aggravate my sorrow.
Still let me sleep, embracing clouds in vain,
And never wake to feel the day's disdain.

DANIEL.

SLEEP, Silence' child, sweet father of soft rest,
Prince whose approach peace to all mortal brings,
Indifferent host to shepherds and to kings,
Sole comforter of minds with grief opprest;
Lo! by thy charming-rod all breathing things
Lie slumbering, with forgetfulness possest,
And yet o'er me to spread thy drowsy wings
Thou spares, alas! who cannot be thy guest.
Since I am thine, oh come, but with that face
To inward light which thou art wont to show;
With feignèd solace ease a true-felt woe;
Or if, deaf god, thou do deny that grace,
Come as thou wilt, and that thou wilt bequeath,--
I long to kiss the image of my death.

DRUMMOND.

A FLOCK of sheep that leisurely pass by,
One after one; the sound of rain, and bees
Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds, and seas,
Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky;--
I have thought of all by turns, and yet do lie
Sleepless; and soon the small birds' melodies
Must hear, first uttered from my orchard trees;
And the first cuckoo's melancholy cry.
Even thus last night, and two nights more, I lay,
And could not win thee, Sleep! by any stealth:
So do not let me wear to-night away:
Without Thee what is all the morning's wealth?
Come, blessèd barrier between day and day,
Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!

WORDSWORTH.

O SOFT embalmer of the still midnight!
Shutting with careful fingers and benign,
Our gloom-pleased eyes, embowered from the light,
Enshaded in forgetfulness divine;
O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close,
In midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes,
Or wait the amen, ere thy poppy throws
Around my bed its lulling charities;
Then save me, or the passèd day will shine
Upon my pillow, breeding many woes;
Save me from curious conscience, that still lords
Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole;
Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards,
And seal the hushèd casket of my soul.

KEATS.

THE crackling embers on the hearth are dead;
The indoor note of industry is still;
The latch is fast; upon the window-sill
The small birds wait not for their daily bread;
The voiceless flowers--how quietly they shed
Their nightly odours; and the household ill
Murmurs continuous dulcet sounds that fill
The vacant expectation, and the dread
Of listening night. And haply now She sleeps;
For all the garrulous noises of the air
Are hushed in peace; the soft dew silent weeps,
Like hopeless lovers for a maid so fair:--
Oh! that I were the happy dream that creeps
To her soft heart, to find my image there.

HARTLEY COLERIDGE.

Side by side with these sonnets may be placed Thomas Warton's _Ode_--a fine poem, too little known:--

ON this my pensive pillow, gentle Sleep,
Descend in all thy downy plumage drest,
Wipe with thy wings these eyes that wake to weep,
And place thy crown of poppies on my breast.
O steep my senses in Oblivion's balm,
And soothe my throbbing pulse with lenient hand,
This tempest of my boiling blood becalm--
Despair grows mild, Sleep, in thy mild command.

Yet ah! in vain, familiar with the gloom,
And sadly toiling through the tedious night,
I seek sweet slumber while that virgin bloom
For ever hovering haunts my unhappy sight.
Nor would the dawning day my sorrows charm:
Black midnight and the blaze of noon alike
To me appear, while with uplifted arm
Death stands prepared, but still delays, to strike.

T. WARTON.

_287_

AH! gentle, fleeting, wav'ring sprite,
Friend and associate of this clay!
To what unknown region borne
Wilt thou now wing thy distant flight?
No more with wonted humour gay,
But pallid, cheerless, and forlorn.

BYRON.

Byron's version is a weak piece of youthful work. I add here Pope's _Dying Christian to his Soul_, a noble poem suggested by that of Hadrian, and emphasizing powerfully the contrast between pagan and Christian sentiment:--

VITAL spark of heavenly flame!
Quit, oh quit this mortal frame!
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying,
Oh the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life!

Hark, they whisper; angels say,
'Sister spirit, come away!'
What is this absorbs me quite?
Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
Drowns my spirit, draws my breath?
Tell me, my soul, can this be death?

The world recedes; it disappears!
Heaven opens on my eyes! my ears
With sounds seraphic ring:
Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
O Grave, where is thy victory?
O Death, where is thy sting?

POPE.

_368_

HAPPY the man who his whole time doth bound
Within the enclosure of his little ground.
Happy the man whom the same humble place,
The hereditary cottage of his race,
From his first rising infancy has known,
And by degrees sees gently bending down
With natural propension to that earth
Which both preserved his life and gave him birth.
Him no false distant lights by Fortune set
Could ever into foolish wanderings get.
He never dangers either saw or feared;
The dreadful storms at sea he never heard,
He never heard the shrill allarms of war,
Or the worse noises of the lawyers' Bar.
No change of consuls marks to him the year;
The change of seasons is his calender.
The cold and heat Winter and Summer shows,
Autumn by fruits, and Spring by flowers he knows.
He measures time by landmarks, and has found
For the whole day the Dial of his ground.
A neighbouring wood born with himself he sees,
And loves his old contemporary trees.
He's only heard of near Verona's name,
And knows it, like the Indies, but by fame:
Does with a like concernment notice take
Of the Red Sea and of Benacus Lake.
Thus health and strength he to a third age enjoys,
And sees a long posterity of boys.
About the spacious world let others roam,
The Voyage Life is longest made at home.

COWLEY.

I append the version of a poet who was accounted in his time 'the best translator since Pope'.

BLEST who, content with what the country yields,
Lives in his own hereditary fields;
Who can with pleasure his past life behold,
Whose roof paternal saw him young and old;
And, as he tells his long adventures o'er,
A stick supports him where he crawled before;
Who ne'er was tempted from his farm to fly,
And drink new streams beneath a foreign sky:
No merchant, he, solicitous of gain,
Dreads not the storms that lash the sounding main:
Nor soldier, fears the summons to the war,
Nor the hoarse clamours of the noisy bar.
Unskilled in business, to the world unknown,
He ne'er beheld the next contiguous town.
Yet nobler objects to his view are given,
Fair flowery fields and star-embellished heaven.
He marks no change of consuls, but computes
Alternate consuls by alternate fruits;
Maturing autumns store of apples bring,
And flowerets are the luxury of spring.
His farm that catches first the sun's bright ray
Sees the last lustre of his beams decay:
The passing hours erected columns show,
And are his landmarks and his dials too.
Yon spreading oak a little twig he knew,
And the whole grove in his remembrance grew.
Verona's walls remote as India seem,
Benacus is th' Arabian Gulph to him.
Yet health three ages lengthens out his span,
And grandsons hail the vigorous old man.
Let others vainly sail from shore to shore--
Their joys are fewer and their labours more.

F. FAWKES.

NOTE UPON THE SATURNIAN METRE

This metre is illustrated by Nos. 1-4 (?), 5-6, 8, 10, 12-13 in this selection. Three views have been taken of its character.

1. It was at one time supposed to be purely quantitative. This view had the support of Bentley, who in the _Phalaris_ (226-8) identified the Saturnian with a metre of Archilochus.[11] 'There's no difference at all', he says blithely. In more recent times the quantitative theory, in one form or another, has numbered among its adherents scholars of repute: e.g. Ritschl, Lucian Mueller, Christ, Havet. To-day it may be said to be a dead superstition. Its place has been taken by what may be called the 'semi-quantitative' theory.

2. The 'semi-quantitative' theory was popularized in this country by H. Nettleship[12] and J. Wordsworth[13]. It enjoyed the vogue which commonly attends a compromise; and it still has its adherents, as, for example, E.V. Arnold[14] (who follows the Plautine scholar F. Leo). But the more it is examined the more it tends, I think, to melt into a 'pure-accentual' theory. 'It allows the shortening of a long syllable when unaccented (_devictis_)', says Nettleship[15]. Surely to say that _devictis_ is 'allowed' for _devictis_ is to abandon the cause outright. But it is considerations of a more general character which seem likely to render untenable both the 'quantitative' and the 'semi-quantitative' theories. The recent researches of Sievers[16] and others into the earliest metrical forms tend to shew that this metre is an 'Indo-European' heritage, and that it must be judged in the light of its Eastern and Germanic cognates.

3. The best opinion, therefore, in recent years has been strongly on the side of the view which makes the principle of the Saturnian metre purely accentual. At the moment this view may, in fact, be said to hold the field. Unhappily those who agree in regarding the metre as purely accentual agree in little else. We may distinguish two schools:

(a) There is, first, what I may perhaps be allowed to call the Queen-and-Parlour school. 'There cannot be a more perfect Saturnian line', says Macaulay, 'than one which is sung in every English nursery--

The queen was in her parlour eating bread and honey'.

Place beside this English line the Latin line which has come to be regarded as the typical Saturnian--

dabunt malum Metelli Naeuio poetae.

If we accent these five words as Naevius and the Metelli would in ordinary speech have accented them, we shall have to place our accents thus:--

dábunt málum Metélli Naéuio poétae;

since by what is known as the Law of the Penultimate the accent in Latin always falls on the penultimate syllable save in those words of three (or more) syllables which have a short penultimate and take the accent consequently on the ante-penultimate syllable. But those who accommodate the Latin saturnian to the rhythm of 'The queen was in her parlour ...' have to postulate an anomalous accentuation:--

dabúnt malúm Metélli | Naéuió poétae.

The Saturnian line is, they hold, a verse falling into two cola, each colon containing three accented (and an undefined number of unaccented) syllables--word-accent and verse-accent (i. e. metrical _ictus_) corresponding necessarily only at the last accented syllable in each colon (as Metélli ... poétae above).

Now here there are at least four serious difficulties:

1. While the principle of the verse is accentual half the words in any given line may be accented as they were never accented anywhere else.

2. Sometimes verse-accent and word-accent do not correspond even at the last accent in a colon. There is, for example, no better authenticated Saturnian than

Cornelius Lucius Scipio Barbatus:

and it is incredible that at any period in the history of the Latin language the word-accent ever fell on the middle syllable of _Lucius_[17].

3. The incidence of word-accent is left unfixed save so far as the incidence of verse-accent enables us to fix it. But the incidence of the verse-accent is itself hopelessly uncertain. In a very large percentage of saturnian lines we abandon the natural word-accent and have at the same time no possible means of determining upon what syllable of what word we are to put the verse-accent.

dabúnt malúm Metélli Naéuió poétae

is simple enough: but when we come to

sin illos deserant fortissimos uiros
magnum stuprum populo fieri per gentes

dedet Tempestatibus aide meretod

we come, to speak frankly, to chaos.

4. A large number of well-attested saturnians yield only two accents in the second _colon_.

(b) Beside the 'Queen-and-Parlour' theory there is what I may call the Normal Accent Theory. It originated with two papers by W.M. Lindsay in the _American Journal of Philology_ vol. xiv--papers which furnish a more thorough and penetrating treatment of the whole subject than is to be found anywhere else. Lindsay's view is in substance this:

1. The saturnian line falls into two _cola_ of which the first (_a_) contains _three_, the second (_b_) _two_ accented syllables.

2. _a_ contains seven syllables in all, _b_ contains six (occasionally five), save when -- takes the place of one accented syllable.

3. The accent is always the normal Latin accent, according to the Law of the Penultimate.

(A tetrasyllabic word has two accents when it stands at the beginning of a line, and a pentasyllabic word always.)

4. Each line begins with an accented syllable.

These are the essential rules. In addition Lindsay has been at pains to determine carefully the accentuation of 'word-groups'. Each word in a Latin sentence has not necessarily an accent of its own. Thus _apud uos_ is accented _apúd-uos_; so again _in-grémium_, _quei-númquam_, _ís hic-sítus_. No part of Lindsay's papers throws so much light on the scansion of the saturnian verses as that which deals with these word-groups: but it is impossible here to deal with the subject in detail. I will give here the first two Scipio Epitaphs (5. _i_, _ii_) as they are scanned and accented by Lindsay:--

_i._

_ii._

But is it certain, after all, that the accent-law in Saturnian verse _is_ the Law of the Penultimate? There was, as is well known, a period in the history of the Latin language when this Law did not obtain, but all Latin words were alike accented on the first syllable. When this period ended we cannot precisely determine. But, as Lindsay himself points out, the influence of the old protosyllabic accentuation was not quite dead even in the time of Plautus.[18] Now the saturnian verse undoubtedly reaches back to a very remote antiquity: even of our extant specimens some are very likely as old as the eighth century. It is probable enough, therefore, that the accent-law known at any rate to the first saturnian poets was the old protosyllabic law. And when we remember the hieratic character of the earliest poetry, when we take into account the conservatism of any priestly ritual or rule, may we not suppose it possible that saturnian verse retained the ancient law of accentuation long after the Law of the Penultimate had asserted itself in ordinary speech and in other forms of literature? Accented, as Lindsay accents it, according to the Law of the Penultimate, the saturnian loses the lilt and swing which it has under the old 'Queen-and-Parlour' system.

dábunt málum Metélli Naéuio poétae

is not a music to pray to or dance to or die to. A much easier and more lively movement would be

dábunt málum Mételli Naéuio póetae,

that is, the movement given by the old protosyllabic accentuation.

The suggestion that the protosyllabic accent survived as a conscious archaism in saturnian verse right down to the time of the Scipios is, I think, at any rate worth considering. It carries us into speculations far wider than the particular problem with which it is immediately concerned. For if the protosyllabic law did actually survive in this way we can the more easily explain the swift and decisive victory which the Hellenizing Latin poetry won over the old native verse. What was conquered was an archaism, something purely artificial. The conquering force was not merely Hellenism but Hellenism _plus_ a complete and radical change in Latin speech.

If anyone cares to analyse the extant remains of saturnian verse in the light of this suggestion, I would formulate three rules which can, I think, be deduced:

1. Each line has five feet, and each foot contains one accented syllable _plus_ either one or two unaccented syllables.[19] The first foot, however, _may_ consist of a monosyllable.

2. The third foot must consist of a trisyllabic word or 'word-group'[20]: save that occasionally the second and third feet together may be formed of a quadrisyllabic (or pentasyllabic) word with secondary accent.

3. The first and second, and again the fourth and fifth, feet may be either disyllabic or trisyllabic: but (_a_) two trisyllables may not follow one another in the first two feet, and (_b_) if the fifth foot (usually trisyllabic) is a disyllable the fourth must be trisyllabic.

The normal type is

/ / / / /
-- -- | -- -- | -- -- -- || -- -- | -- -- --
/
|| -- -- --

A common variation in the first two feet is either / / / / -- -- -- | -- --, or -- -- | -- -- --. A somewhat rare variation / / / in the last two is -- -- -- | -- --. In the first foot -- sometimes / / replaces -- -- (or -- -- --), no doubt owing to the greater stress at the opening of the verse.

Some exceptions (or apparent exceptions) to these rules will no doubt be found. But the rules cover most of the extant examples of saturnian verse: and it must be remembered that the text of our fragments is often not at all certain. The system outlined has, however, the merit--which it shares with Lindsay--that it dispenses with most of the alterations of the text in which other systems involve us.

THE HYMN OF THE ARVAL BROTHERHOOD.

I have given the text of this celebrated piece according to what may be called the Vulgate; and in the sub-title, in the Glossary and in my Introduction p. 1 I have followed the ordinary interpretation. I may perhaps be allowed here to suggest a different view of the poem.

It begins with an appeal to the Lares. These are apparently the Lares Consitivi, gods of sowing. Then comes an appeal to Marmar, then to Mars. Then the Semones are invoked, who, like the Lares, are gods of sowing. There follows a final appeal to Marmar.

It is pretty clear that the Mars, Marmar, or Marmor, invoked in such iteration is not the war-god, but Mars in his more ancient character of a god of agriculture. But if this be so, what are we to make of lines 7-9,

satur fu, fere Mars: limen sali: sta berber,

'Be thou glutted, fierce Mars, leap the threshold, stay thy scourge',--or, as Buecheler takes it, 'stand, wild god'? This sort of language is appropriate enough to Mars as god of war, but utterly inappropriate to the farmer's god[21].

Now it so happens that for

satur fu, fere Mars: limen sali, sta berber

the monumental stone to which we owe this inscription offers at one point

satur fu, fere Mars limen saii sia berber.

Now, when we remember the Lares Consitivi and the Semones, does it not look very much as though _satur_ stood for _sator_, as though _fere_ were a blunder for _sere_, as though _saii_ were the vocative of Saius, 'sower' (cf. Seia a goddess of sowing, and Greek {saô sêthô}), as though _sia_ were the imperative of the verb _sio_ (moisten)[22], and as though, finally, _berber_ were to be connected with the Greek {borborys} and meant 'loam'? (I would give much the same sense, 'fat soil' to _limen_: (from the root _lib-_: cf. Gk. {leibô leimôn}).)

We get, then,

sator fu: sere Mars limen Saii, sia berber,

'Be thou the sower: sower Mars, sow the soil, moisten the loam'. And this suggests what _ought_ to be the meaning of _enos iuuate_. _enos_ _ought_ to mean _harvests_, or at any rate something in that kind. And why should it not? Hesychius knew a word {enos} which he glosses by {eniautos, epeteios karpos}. See Suidas _s.v._ and Herwerden _Lexicon Suppletorium_.

The Hymn is a hymn for Seedtime. We know, however, that the festival at which it was sung fell in the month of May. The explanation of this has been hinted at by Henzen.[23] Henzen points out that the Arval Brothers entered on their duties at the Saturnalia, and that their worship is probably connected in its origin with Saturn, the god of sowing. (See Varro _L.L._ 5, 57, and _apud_ Aug. _C.D._ 7. 13 p. 290, 28, Festus _s.v._ Saturnus.) We must suppose, therefore, that at some date when the meaning of its words had been already lost this hymn was transferred from a seedtime festival to a harvest festival.

GLOSSARY OF OLD LATIN

_i._

cante: _cante_ (sometimes said to be an Athematic imper.
2 pers. plur.).

_ii._

quome: _cum_.
Leucesie: (_Lucerie_?) a title of Jupiter as god of lightning.
tet: _te_.
tremonti: _tremunt_.
quor: _cur_.
Curis: 'god of spear-men' (?): Etruscan _curis_, a spear:
(cf. _Iunonis Curitis_).
decstumum: _dextimum_, 'on the right' (the suffix _-imus_ is not
strictly a superlative suffix, but denotes position: cf. _summus_
(_sup-mus_), _finitimus_, _citimus_).

_iii._

ulod: _illo_ (?) (_ollod_) (cf. Umbrian _ulu_).
oriese: _oriere_: future for imperative as in 2 _aduocapit_.
isse: _ipse_ (_ipese_): the form _isse_ is merely
the vulgar spelling of a later period.
ueuet: _uiuit_.
po melios: _optimus_ (?) ('_po_ pro _potissimum_ positum est in
Saliari carmine', _Festus_).
eu: _heu_ (admirantis).
recum: _regum_ (as _uirco_ for _uirgo_ in the _Duenos Inscription_:
and so always in early Latin until 312 B.C.).

enos: _nos_ (?) cf. {eme, emoi}.
Lases: _Lares_.
lue rue: _luem et ruinam_.
Marmar: _Mars_.
sins: _sinas_ (?).
sers: _siueris_ (?).
pleoris: _pluris_ (cf. {plheiôn} = {pleons} = pleios = pleor).
fu: _esto_ (_fufere_ = _esto_, others: as though _fufuere_).
sta berber, 'stay thy scourge' (?): sta = {hista}; berber: _uerbera_.
Others interpret, 'stand, fierce one' (berber = _barbare_).
semunis: _semones_, 'gods of the sown fields'.
aduocapit: _aduocabitis_.

_i._

Gnaiuod: _Gnaeo_: the old abl. in -d: cf. _meretod_ in _ii_.
parisuma: superlative of _par_.
Taurasia Cisauna Samnio: _Taurasiam Cisaunam (in) Samnio_
(or _Samnium_). The dropping of _-m_ (cf. _oino_, _aede_ in _ii_) is,
however, not in any way a peculiarity of early Latin.
subigit: _subegit_.
abdoucsit: _abduxit_.

_ii._

oino: _unum_.
ploirime: _plurimi_.
duonoro .. uiro: _bonorum .. uirum_.
Scipione: _Scipionem_.
Corsica Aleriaque urbe: _Corsicam Aleriamque urbem_.
aide: _aedem_.
meretod: _merito_.

_iii._

apice insigne: _apicem insignem_.
recipit: _recepit_ (as _subigit_ in _i_).

_iv._

quei minus: _cur minus_.
mactus: 'blessed', 'honoured', 'endowed'.

_i._

insece: _inseque_, imperat. from _inquam_ (_in(s)quam_): {ennepe}.

_iv._

dacrimas: _lacrimas_.
noegeo: 'noegeum amiculi genus', _Festus_: {pharos}.

_v._

hemonem: _hominem_ (cf. _ne-hemo_ = _nemo_) 'son of earth'
(_humus_: cf. Oscan _humuns_ = _homines_).
quamde: _quam_.
topper: _celeriter_: _(is)tod_ + _per_: the old explanation,
_toto opere_, is false.

_vi._

inserinuntur: _inseruntur_. So in the active we find the 3 pl. pres.
in _-nunt_: _danunt_ (_dant_) _prodinunt_ (_prodeunt_) _nequinunt_
(_nequeunt_). But the forms are unexplained anomalies.

_vii._

deuenies: _deueniens_ (?).
ommentans: _ob-manens_ (_manto_ freq. of _maneo_).

_ii._

ipsus: _ipse_: so _ollus_ and _olle_ for _ille_.

_iii._

procat: _poscit_.

_v._

confluges: 'loca in quae diversi rivi confluunt', _Nonius_.

_vi._

anculabant: _hauriebant_ (cf. Gk. {antlein}).

_vii._

struices: 'struices antiqui dicebant exstructiones omnium rerum',
_Festus_.

_viii._

nefrendem: _sine dentibus_ (_ne_ + _frendo_).

_ii._

Anchisa: _Anchises_ (_-as_): as _Aenea_ in _iv_, and in later
Latin _Atrida_ &c.

_iii._

Troiad: _Troia_ (abl.).

_iv._

Aenea: _Aeneas_: so _Anchisa_ in _ii_.

_vi._

concinnat: 'concinnare est apte componere', _Festus_.

_viii._

mavolunt: _malunt_ (_mage-uolunt_).

_iii._

cedo: _dic, da_ (the demonstrative particle _-ce_ + old imperative
of _dare_).

_v._

promicando: 'promicare est extendere et longe iacere', _Nonius_.

12.

nouentium: *nuentium (_annuentium_): cf. the spelling _souo_ = _suo_
in 44. So regularly in the oldest Latin. _ou_ for _u_.
duonum: _donum_ (cf. Umbrian _dunu_, Oscan _dunum_: old Latin
_duo_ = _do_).
negumate: _negate_ (_nec autumate_).

13.

endostaurata facito: _fac ut instaurentur_.

15.

quam mox: 'quam mox significat quam cito', _Festus_.

17.

indu: Greek {endon}; as 21. _viii_, and 32 (_endo_): later
the word became confused with, and then entirely supplanted by, _in_.
uolup, 'pleasantly': neut. of an extinct _volupis_,
used adverbially: cf. _facul_, _difficul_.
suaset: (i.e. _suasset_), _suasisset_.
uerbum paucum: _uerborum paucorum_.

21.

_viii._

imbricitor: _qui imbres ciet_.

23.

euitari: _uita priuari_.

24.

melior mulierum: like _melios recum_ in 1. _iii_.

25.

postilla: _postea_.

29.

accedisset: _accidisset_.

34.

faxit: _fecerit_.

41.

perproquinquam: _perpropinquam_ (cf. {pente (pempe} = quinque,
{hippos} = _equus_, _Pontius_ = _Quintius_).
uerruncent: _uertant_.

42.

dum .. dum: {tote men .. tote de}: cf. the use of _dum_ in
_primumdum_, _agedum_, _adesdum_.

44.

souo: _suo_.

45.

clueor: _uocor_ (cf. {klytos}).

51.

_iii._

cresti: _(de)creuisti_.

54.

fuat: _sit_.
fatust: _fatus est_.

INDEX OF AUTHORS AND PASSAGES

ABBREVIATIONS

_T.R._ = Ribbeck, _Tragicorum Romanorum Fragmenta_

_C.R._ = Ribbeck, _Comicorum Romanorum Fragmenta_

_P.L.M._ = Baehrens, _Poetae Latini Minores_

_F.P.R._ = Baehrens, _Fragmenta Poetarum Romanorum_

_A.L._ = Riese, _Anthologia Latina, Ed. ii_

_C.E._ = Buecheler, _Carmina Epigraphica_

The numerals in large type indicate the number of the _piece_ (not the _page_, save where _p_. is prefixed).

(In the early fragments the numerals indicate the number of the _line_ as given in the principal editions.)

Accius, L., 41-43 (_T.R._ 17, 391; 156, 234, 314, 621, 651, 203)

Albinovanus: _see_ Pedo

Alcimius, 322-324 (_A.L._ 740, 713, 715, 714)

Anonymous, 105 (_A.L._ 414),
" , 189 (Tibullus 3, 20)
" , 191 (_C.E._ 960)
" , 193 (_Copa_),
" , 194 (_P.L.M._ i, p. 119)
" , 222 (_A.L._ 720)
" , 228 (_Aetna_ 9-93)
" , 229 (_A.L._ 5)
" , 230 (_C.E._ 960)
" , 231 (_P.L.M._ i, p. 78)
" , 246 (_A.L._ 726)
" , 249 (_P.L.M._ i, p. 234)
" , 286, _i_ (_C.E._ 1109)
" , 286, _ii_ (_C.E._ 1111)
" , 288 (_C.E._ 97)
" , 289 (_C.E._ 213)
" , 290 (_C.E._ 29)
" , 301 (_C.E._ 245)
" , 305 (_C.E._ 106)
" , 306 (_A.L._ 718)
" , 307 (_A.L._ 388 _a_)
" , 308 (_C.E._ 1175)
" , 315 (_A.L._ 487 _a_)
" , 321 (_C.E._ 1279)
" , 353 (_C.E._ 111)
" , 359 (_A.L._ 719)
" , 360 (_A.L._ 22)
" , 361 (_A.L._ 722)
" , 362 (_A.L._ 866)

Arval Brotherhood, 2 (_C.E._ 1)

Asclepiadius, 355, 358 _a_ (_A.L._ 629, 563)

Asmenius, 354 (_A.L._ 635)

Avianus, 371-372 (_Fab._ 5, 15)

Avienus, 352 (_Aratea_ 1-76)

Ausonius, D. Magnus, 325-346 (Schenkl, _Op._ 23;
_Epist._ 15, 21;
_Epigr._ 18, 20, 82, 23, 2, 35, 56, 10, 81, 99, 53;
_Par._ 11, 24, 29;
_Epiced. in Patr. Prof._ 16;
_Epitaph._ 3, 14, 30;
_De Herediolo_;
_Ecl. Lib._ 2;
_Epist._ 7)

(pseudo-) Ausonius, 348-351 (_A.L._ 646;
Schenkl, _Auson._ p. 252; _A.L._ 263;
Schenkl, _Auson_. p. 261.)

Caesar, C. Iulius, 63 (_F.P.R._ p. 326)

Calpurnius (T. Calpurnius Siculus), 247 (Ecl. iv)

Cato, 311 (_P.L.M._ iii, p. 216 sqq.)

Calvus (C. Licinius Calvus Macer), 64-65 (_F.P.R._ p. 320)

Catullus, C. Valerius, 74-104 (34, 62, 63, 61, 1, 9, 35, 46, 31, 45,
51, 2 and 3, 5 and 7, 109 and 87, 70, 73, 82, 72 and 75, 8, 85, 60,
11, 30, 76, 68_b_, 101, 96, 51_b_, 38, 14_b_)

Catulus, Q. Latatius, 47-48 (_F.P.R._ p. 275)

Cicero, M. Tullius, 55-59 (_F.P.R._ 3, 19, 29, 33, 41)

Cicero, Q. Tullius, 62 (_F.P.R._ p. 315)

Cinna, C. Helvius, 60 (_F.P.R._ p. 323)

Claudia, Epitaph of, 44 (_C.E._ 52)

Claudian (Claudius Claudianus), 365-370 (Koch 6, 20, 10;
_Carm. Min._ 20, 31, 15)

Claudius, 309 (_A.L._ 723)

Columella, L. Iunius Moderatus, 245 (x. 255-310)

Cornelius Severus, 192 (_F.P.R._ p. 352)

Domitius Marsus, 161 (Tibullus, Fragm.)

Ennius, Q., 14-34 (Vahlen, _Ann._ 35, 77, 194, 234, 303, 401, 266;
1, 52, 110, 367, 140 and 187, 287, 370, 443, 457, 514;
_Scen._ 27, 85, 54, 35, 316, 312, 234, 246, 215;
_Varia_ 19, 21;
_Sat._ 6;
_Var._ 15 and 17)

Euphorbius, 358 _c_ (_A.L._ 559)

Flavius Felix, 378 (_A.L._ 216)

Florus, Annius, 291-298 (_A.L._ 245-252)

Furius (M. Furius Bibaculus), 52-53 (_F.P.R._ p. 317)

Gallienus, P. Licinius, Imperator, 302 (_A.L._ 711)

Germanicus, Ti. Cl. Caesar, 223-224 (_P.L.M._ i, p. 153;
_A.L._ 708)

Hadrian, P. Aelius Hadrianus, Imperator, 287 (_F.P.R._ p. 373)

Horace (Q. Horatius Flaccus), 120-153 (_Odes_ iv. 3, 9, 12;
i. 9, 30, 5;
iii. 9;
iv. 10, 13;
iii. 26;
iv. 1;
iii. 8;
ii. 6, 7, 14;
iii. 29, 21, 1, 2, 3;
ii. 1;
iii. 5;
i. 37;
iii. 14;
ii. 13;
iii. 13;
ii. 3;
iv. 2;
iii. 11;
i. 24;
ii. 18;
_Epode_ xiii;
_Odes_ i. 4 and iv. 7;
iii. 30)

Lactantius (L. Caelius Lactantius Firmianus), 310 (_A.L._ 485 _a_)

Laevius, 51 (_F.P.R._ p. 287)

Laurea, M. Tullius, 61 (_F.P.R._ p. 316)

Licinus, Porcius, 49-50 (_F.P.R._ p. 277)

Livius (L. Livius Andronicus), 6-7 (_F.P.R._ 1, 3, 4, 21, 22, 28, 9,
26, 36, 38;
_T.R._ 5, 12, 13, 16, 18, 30, 37, 38, 40, 7)

Lucan (M. Annaeus Lucanus), 248 (_A.L._ 668)

Lucretius (T. Lucretius Carus), 66-73 (i. 1-148;
ii. 1-58, 600-657;
iii. 1-93, 931-1052;
v. 1-54, 925-1010, 1161-1240)

Luxorius, 379-382 (_A.L._ 288, 332, 366, 347, 289)

Lygdamus, 184-185 (Tibullus iii. 4, 5)

Maecenas, C. Cilnius, 108 (_F.P.R._ p. 338)

Manilius, M., 195-204 (i. 1-105, 703-804, 865-926;
ii. 1-149, 579-607, 755-787;
iii. 1-39;
iv. 1-118, 866-932 v. 538-631)

Marcius, 12-13 [54] (_F.P.R._ p. 36 [p. 35])

Martial (M. Valerius Martialis), 263-285 (i. 61;
vii. 97;
iv. 14;
x. 4;
viii. 56 and i. 76;
ii. 90 and xii. 18 and v. 20 and x. 47;
ix. 52; iv. 13;
i. 88 and vi. 28 and xi. 13 and v. 37;
i. 36;
iv. 64;
iii. 65;
ix. 11 and 12;
x. 62;
vi. 70;
xii. 34, 47;
xi. 6;
x. 7, 35;
i. 25;
x. 9;
iv. 89)

Maximinus, 357 _c_ (_A.L._ 510)

Messallae Panegyristae, 190 (Tibullus iii. 7;
_Catalepton_ ix)

Modestinus, 347 (_A.L._ 273)

Naevius, Cn., 8-10 (_F.P.R._ 1, 3, 4, 24, 32, 37, 38, 39, 63;
_T.R._ 15, 21, 7;
_C.R._ 10, 15, 75;
_F.P.R._ p. 296)

Nemesianus, M. Aurelius Olumpius, 304-305 (_Cyneg._ 1-102;
_Ecl._ iii)

Numa Pompilius, 1 (_F.P.R._ 1, 2, 3)

Ovid (P. Ovidius Naso), 207-222 (_Trist._ iv. 10;
_Amores_ i. 1;
ii. 18;
iii. 1;
i. 9 and ii. 12;
i. 2, 3, 13;
iii. 6, 15;
ii. 6;
_Heroides_ ii;
_Amores_ iii. 9;
_Tristia_ i. 5;
iii. 3;
_Amores_ i. 15)

Pacuvius, M., 35-40 (_T.R._ 409, 86, 177, 268;
Aul. Gell. 1, 24, 4)

Palladius, 356, 357 _a_ (_A.L._ 628, 518)

Pedo, Albinovanus, 205 (_F.P.R._ p. 351)

Pentadius, 313-314 (_A.L._ 266, 268)

Petronius Arbiter, 250-254 (_A.L._ 464, 702, 697, 477, 706)

Phaedrus, C. Iulius, 225-227 (iii. 9;
v. 8;
iv. _Epilogus_)

Phocas, 384 (_A.L._ 671)

Plautus, T. Maccius, 11 (_F.P.R._ p. 296)

Pompilius, 45 (_F.P.R._ p. 274)

Propertius, Sextus, 162-183 (i. 22;
iii. 1, 2;
i. 1;
ii. 12;
i. 9, 7;
iii. 10;
ii. 28 _b_;
ii. 26 _a_;
i. 5;
ii. 9, 8;
iii. 21;
ii. 11;
iv. 7;
i. 20;
iv, 11;
ii. 10;
iii. 18;
ii. 27, 13)

Reposianus, 312 (_A.L._ 253)

Rutilius Claudius Namatianus, 373 (_P.L.M._ v, p. 6)

Scipios, Epitaphs of the, 5 (_C.E._ 6-9)

Seneca, L. Annaeus, 232-244 (_A.L._ 232, 237, 411, 420, 445,
417 and 418;
_Herc. Fur._ 838-874;
_Phaedra_ 761-784;
_Tro._ 371-408;
_Med._ 56-115;
_Thyest_. 339-403, 596-602;
_Herc. Oet._ 1031-1127)

Sidonius Apollinaris (C. Sollius Modestus Apollinaris Sidonius),
374-7 (Luetjohann pp. 233, 242, 243, 30)

Statius, P. Papinius, 256-262 (_Silv._ ii. 7, 4;
i. 2, 3;
iii. 3;
ii. 1;
v. 4)

Sulpicia, 186-188 (Tibullus iii. 11, 10, 17)

Sulpicius (C. Sulpicius Apollinaris), 299-300 (_A.L._ 653, 667)

Sulpicius Lupercus Servasius Iunior, 363, 364 (_A.L._ 648-649)

Tiberianus, 315-320 (_P.L.M._ iii. pp. 264-268;
_Pervig. Ven. A.L._ 200)

Tibullus, Albius, 154-160 (i. 1, 3, 5, 10;
ii. 1, 5, 6)

Valerius Aedituus, 46 (_F.P.R._ p. 275)

Varius, L., 106-107 (_F.P.R._ p. 337)

Vergil (P. Vergilius Maro), 109-119 (_Catalepton_ iii, v;
_Ecl._ iv, viii;
_Georg._ i. 121-159, 424-514;
ii. 136-176, 458-540;
iii. 1-48;
iv. 460-527;
_Catalepton_ xiv;
_Aen._ 1 _a_-4 _a_).

Verginius (L. Verginius Rufus), 255 (_F.P.R._ p. 371)

Vitalis, 358 _b_ (_A.L._ 555)

Vomanius, 357 _b_ (_A.L._ 514)

INDEX OF FIRST LINES

No.

Ablatus mihi Crispus est amicus 236

Acmen Septimios suos amores 83

Additur orator Cornelius suauiloquenti 18

Adeste Musae, maximi proles Iouis 354

Adhuc supersunt multa quae possim loqui 227

Ad regum thalamos numine prospero 241

Adulescens tam etsi properas, hoc te saxulum 40

Aeneadum genetrix, hominum diuumque uoluptas 66

Aequam memento rebus in arduis 146

Aëris in campis, memorat quos musa Maronis 345

Alcime, quem raptum domino crescentibus annis 271, i

Ales, dum madidis grauata pennis 318

Alfene immemor atque unanimis false sodalibus 96

Amborum uxores 8, iii

Amnem, Troiugena, Cannam fuge, defuge Cannam 54

Amnis harundinibus limosas obsite ripas 213

Amnis ibat inter arua ualle fusus frigida 316

Anceps forma bonum mortalibus 239

Andromedae sequitur sidus, quae piscibus ortis 204

Angustam amice pauperiem pati 138

Animula uagula blandula 287

Aquam Albanam, Romane, caue lacu teneri 13

Arma graui numero uiolentaque bella parabam 207, i

A siluis ad agros, ab agris ad proelia uenit 357, b

A sole exoriente supra Maeotis paludes 32

Asper eram et bene discidium me ferre loquebar 156

Aspice quem ualido subnixum Gloria regno 109

Aspicite, o ciues, senis Enni imaginis formam 34

At celer hasta uolans perrumpit pectora ferro 6, x

At chorus aequalis Dryadum clamore supremos 118

At genus humanum multo fuit illud in aruis 72

At tuba terribili sonitu taratantara dixit 21, v

At uos incertam, mortales, funeris horam 182

Audiuere, Lyce, di mea uota, di 128

Aufugit mi animus; credo, ut solet, ad Theotimum 47

Aurea securi quis nescit saecula regis? 228

Aurum, quod nigri manes, quod turbida mersant 317

Bacche, uitium repertor, plenus adsis uitibus 293

Barbara praeruptis inclusa est Corsica saxis 233

Blande et docte percontat, Aenea quo pacto 8, iv

Bucula sum caelo genitoris facta Myronis 334

Caelo tonantem credidimus Iouem 141

Callimachi Manes et Coi sacra Philetae 163

Carmen ad iratum aum tu perducis Achillen 207, ii

Carmine diuinas artis et conscia fati 195

Carminibus pecudes et rus et bella canendo 357, c

Carminis incentor mihi Iuppiter! auspice terras 352

Castra Macer sequitur: tenero quid fiet Amori? 160

Catonis modo, Galle, Tusculanum 53

Cedo, qui rem uestram publicam tantam amisistis tam cito? 9, iii

Cernere facundi Tibur glaciale Vopisci 259

Ceu canis umbrosam lustrans Gortynia uallem 106, ii

Claudia, Rufe, meo nubit Peregrina Pudenti 270

Clausus ab umbroso qua tundit pontus Auerno 181

Collis o Heliconiei 77

Concurrent ueluti uenti cum spiritus Austri 21,viii

Conditus his ego sum, cuius modo rustica Musa 357, a

Confluges ubi conuentu campum totum inumigant 7, v

Conqueri fortunam aduersam, non lamentari decet 39

Conse, ulod oriese 1, iii

Constiteram exorientem Auroram forte salutans 48

Consules fiunt quotannis et noui proconsules 298

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The Oxford Book of Latin VerseChapter C: Sollivs Modestvs Apollinaris Sidonivs (2)

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