While Caesar as man of letters is most famous for his commentarii, it should not be forgotten that he also wrote two volumes on Analogy and was the author of various verses, one set of which, on the comic playwright Terence and his relationship to Menander, runs as follows (fr. 1 Courtney):

tu quoque, tu in summis, o dimidiate Menander,
poneris, et merito, puri sermonis amator.
lenibus atque utinam scriptis adiuncta foret uis,
comica ut aequato uirtus polleret honore
cum Graecis neue hac despectus parte iaceres! 5
unum hoc maceror ac doleo tibi deesse, Terenti.

The subject is in both cases the voyage of the Argo, and therefore the use of the same words is not likely to be coincidental, even though the words themselves are scarcely uncommon. One would hesitate to deny, however, that such reminiscence might be unconscious; that Lucan had famous tags in his head is suggested by another allusion to famous opening lines:

At 3.9.37–8, Propertius says that he will not bewail (sc. in epic verse) the destruction of Thebes by the Epigonoi or the earlier assault on the city by the Seven:

non flebo in cineres arcem sedisse paternos

Cadmi, nee septem proelia clade pari.

That nec…pari in 38 refers to the Seven, with Lipsius' septem for the manuscripts' semper, J. D. Morgan demonstrated beyond reasonable doubt in his discussion of the couplet in CQ 36 (1986), 186–8. But Morgan's chief concern in that discussion was with paternos at the end of 37, and it is his treatment of that adjective which prompts this note.

This paper discusses ἐπιβολαὶ τῆς διανοίας, which later Epicureans are supposed to have elevated to a fourth criterion of truth to complement perceptions, preconceptions and feelings. By examining Epicurus’ extant writings, the paper distinguishes three different senses of the term: ‘thought in general’, ‘act of attention’ and ‘mental perception’. It is argued that only the sense ‘mental perception’ yields a plausible reading of ἐπιβολαί as a criterion of truth. The paper then turns to the textual evidence on ἐπιβολαί in later authors. While the term ἐπιβολή (or its Latin equivalent) is not used by Cicero, Lucretius and Philodemus in the sense of mental perception, it is argued that this still is the most plausible way of understanding ἐπιβολή as a criterion of truth.

These lines are the first reaction to the false news of the death of Orestes. Their attribution has been much discussed. What prompts my intervention is the recent development, on this important problem, of a confident unanimity which seems to me certainly mistaken. I have been unable to find a single translator, editor, or commentator in recent years who gives the lines to Electra. The case for Electra was best made by Headlam–Thomson in 1938, and a few extra points were added very hesitantly by Winnington-Ingram in 1946. From the wealth of detailed argument in Headlam–Thomson, which has been ignored rather than refuted, I will mention and briefly develop just two points, before going on to add some of my own.

Commentators offer no satisfactory explanation of why Cleon's satellite Theorus should be sitting on the ground. Van Leeuwen suggests ‘ut infra in convivio’, which seems far-fetched and at best premature, for, though it might suit the character of Theorus as flatterer, that character is not revealed by Alcibiades' speech impediment till 45. It may be that there is nothing to explain, that Theorus is sitting on the ground because there is nowhere else to sit. But if an explanation is desired, what is wanted is something that fits the image of the crow. And if a scavenging bird positions itself on the ground in the vicinity of a monster holding a scale on which meat is being weighed out, its object is surely to pick up scraps that fall from the scale. Such behaviour symbolizes accurately enough the relationship posited between Cleon and Theorus the man – whereas a more ambitious and independent crow might try to snatch its food direct from the scale. (The antecedent of αὐτ⋯ς in 42 is probably ɸ⋯λλαιvα, not τρυτάνην, since ɸ⋯λλαινα is the subject of βούλεται in 41. But since the monster is holding the scale, Theorus, by positioning himself near the monster, is perforce well placed to seize anything that drops.)

Professor Rudolf Keydell has recently given us a greatly improved text of Nonnus' Dionysiaca. But much remains to be done. Many problems are still unsolved: many a corruption may still lie unsuspected, since the manuscript on which we rely is one in which obvious corruption tends to be concealed by conjecture (see below on 25. 424–6).

Night falls on war-weary Troy after a day of celebration, setting the stage for the final agony of the city:

uertitur interea caelum et ruit Oceano nox

inuoluens umbra magna terramque polumque

Myrmidonumque dolos

(Virg. Aen. 2.250–2)

Simply by formulating a question about the nature of ancient Greek poetry or music, any modern English speaker is already risking anachronism. In recent years especially, scholars have reminded one another that the words ‘music’ and ‘poetry’ denote concepts with no easy counterpart in Greek. μουσική in its broadest sense evokes not only innumerable kinds of structured movement and sound but also the political, psychological and cosmic order of which song, verse and dance are supposed to be perceptible manifestations. Likewise, ποίησις and the ποιητικὴ τέχνη can encompass all kinds of ‘making’, from the assembly of a table to the construction of a rhetorical argument. Of course, there were specifically artistic usages of these terms—according to Plato, ‘musical and metrical production’ was the default meaning of ποίησις in everyday speech. But even in discussions which restrict themselves to the sphere of human art, we find nothing like the neat compartmentalization of harmonized rhythmic melody on the one hand, and stylized verbal composition on the other, which is often casually implied or expressly formulated in modern comparisons of ‘music’ with ‘poetry’. For many ancient theorists the City Dionysia, a dithyrambic festival and a recitation of Homer all featured different versions of one and the same form of composition, a μουσική or ποιητική to which λόγοι, γράμματα and συλλαβαί were just as essential as ἁρμονία, φθόγγοι, ῥυθμός and χρόνοι.

Latin is one of the best documented and most extensively studied of any language: nearly every area has been subject to continued and intense scrutiny, with ideas from recent subfields of linguistics providing a fresh look at some old topics. The Latin future (or –to) imperative, the form that conveys commands for non-immediate execution, constitutes precisely such a topic in Latin linguistics: from the Roman Imperial period on, students have demarcated the usages, syntax and context-specific features associated with this form; more recently, scholars have applied ideas from various linguistic subfields to achieve new insights. Given that the –to imperative is so well understood, it might come as a surprise to find that some matters pertaining to it are still debated. This paper will address four such contested areas: first, its register (is it colloquial—that is, a feature of everyday speech—or elevated?); second, the form's politeness (is the –to imperative ‘softer’ than the present imperative?); third, the temporal scope of the –to imperative (can it ever really pertain to orders for immediate execution, and thus overlap with the present imperative?); and fourth, the sensitivity of the form to social factors, that is, to the identity of the speaker and the addressee. (Did slaves avoid using the form with superiors? Did women, held to be more polite than men, refrain from it? By contrast, was the speech of citizen males characterized by a high frequency of the –to imperative?)

Two of the most moving personal poems of Catullus, 8 and 76, present the reader with difficulties of interpretation which highlight the inadequacy of a very widely-held view of the nature of Catullus' personal poetry. In this view the poet is regarded as handling his own actual experience directly, so that the poems present reality, perhaps not entirely, but certainly to a degree that is not the case with the elegiac poets or with the Horace of the Odes. Extreme forms of this view may be seen in the old idea that Catullus threw off the Lesbia poems as the odi or the amo of the moment constrained him, and in the more recent view that the poems can usefully be seen as either attempts to contain an overpowering wave of emotion or to state, and so get to grips with, a baffling personal problem. The first of these extreme forms has been long discredited, but the second still exerts a persuasive pressure, to judge by recent discussion of Catullus.

In recent times, a previously unchallenged and longstanding communis opinio concerning the extant manuscript tradition of Valerius Flaccus' Argonautica has been shattered by Prof. W.-W. Ehlers in his revelation that the fifteenth-century Laurentianus plut. 39.38, L, written by the Florentine scholar, Niccolò Niccoli, is independent of the much exalted oldest witness, Vaticanus Latinus 3277, V, copied in Fulda in the second quarter of the ninth century. With equally silent subservience to the hazardous and now discredited principle, vetustissimus et optimus, second place in the tradition had commonly been given to a manuscript of similar age to that of V, namely S, discovered in 1416 at the monastery of St. Gall by three humanist scholars, Poggio Bracciolini, Cencio Rustici and Bartolomeo da Montepulciano, and subsequently lost, except through reconstruction from six extant fifteenth-century apographa, each instantly recognizable from the fact that they contain only 1.1–4.317. Between V and S, however, as Ehlers and others before him have argued, a common exemplar, a, must be deduced to exist.

Ovid completes his narrative of the origin of Croton with the following lines (Met. 15.58–9):

talia constabat certa primordia fama
esse loci positaeque Italis in finibus urbis.

It was agreed by sure fame that such were the beginnings
of the place and of the city established within Italian borders.

At Iliad 13.751-3, Hector heeds Polydamas' advice to rally the Trojans by gathering their best fighters together and debating their next move (13.736-47). The speech is followed by a simile that has puzzled some commentators, in which Hector is compared to a snowy mountain as he moves through the Trojan ranks. The passage runs as follows:

‘Πουλυδάμα σὺ μὲν αὐτοῦ ἐρύκακε πάντας ἀρίστους,
αὐτὰρ ἐγὼ κεῖσ’ εἶμι καὶ ἀντιόω πολέμοιο·
αἶψα δ’ ἐλεύσομαι αὖτις ἐπὴν εὖ τοῖς ἐπιτείλω.’
ἦ ῥα, καὶ ὁρμήθη ὄρεϊ νιφόεντι ἐοικὼς
κεκλήγων, διὰ δὲ Τρώων πέτετ’ ἠδ’ ἐπικούρων. 755
οἳ δ’ ἐς Πανθοΐδην ἀγαπήνορα Πουλυδάμαντα
πάντες ἐπεσσεύοντ’, ἐπεὶ Ἕκτορος ἔκλυον αὐδήν.

Fraenkel dismissed Epode 11 with the statement that it ‘is an elegant piece of writing, but there is little real life in it’. By this ambiguously expressed comment he did not mean that the poem fails to ‘come alive’, but that it is artificial: he saw the poem as little more than an assembly of themes and motifs which recur in other genres, especially epigram and elegy. This has also been the perspective of some other twentieth-century scholars: Georg Luck's self-styled ‘interpretation’ of the poem consists largely of a numbered list of thirteen motifs which the epode has in common with elegy and which in Luck's opinion were derived by Horace from Gallus. Alessandro Barchiesi, on the other hand, capitalizes on the perceived elegiac motifs in order to see the poem as a dynamic fusion of elegy and iambus. As for commentators, although older representatives seem to have regarded Epode 11 as generally self-explanatory, the poem receives increasing attention from Cavarzere, Mankin and Watson, the last of whom originally discussed some of its problems in a paper published twenty years earlier. Yet various problems still remain, and in this paper I propose to re-examine lines 1–6 and 15–18 in the hope that a clearer view of the epode as a whole may emerge.

To whom is Aeschinus speaking? Editors in general follow Eugraphius (ad 156–7) and have Aeschinus address his lines to the psaltria. According to this interpretation, it would be the psaltria who anxiously looks back (cf. quid respectas?, 157); since Sannio is the only person on stage whom the girl would have reason to fear, the leno would have to be standing behind her, and hence must have followed the psaltria (and Aeschinus and Parmeno who are escorting her) on to the stage.

The letters are constant in the tradition of 1. 19 and must be taken as genuine. It follows that we have to do either with ‘lead’ or with one of its compounds. At any rate nobody has found another word of like appearance that will fit the context.

Since the first publication of P. Oxy. xxi.

Hosius and others have suspected v. 87 on the ground that it is omitted by most of the good MSS. But the omission, as Weber saw, is due to the similar endings of vv. 86–87 (cura-hora). It is difficult to see how a student of Lucan could convince himself that any other person is the author of v. 87, which not only improves the passage, but is wholly in keeping with the gloomy fatalism of Pompey as represented by Lucan in many other places. Francken's objection that the emphatic me should have a pronoun contrasted with it may be sufficiently answered by a reference to vv. 396–398 of the same book; many instances from other authors could be added.