CHAPTER II.

LUCRETIUS A POET RATHER THAN A PHILOSOPHER—HIS LIFE—EPIC STRUCTURE OF HIS POEM—VARIETY OF HIS POETRY—EXTRACTS FROM HIS POEM—ARGUMENT OF IT—THE EPICUREAN DOCTRINES CONTAINED IN IT—MORALITY OF EPICURUS AND LUCRETIUS—TESTIMONIES OF VIRGIL AND OVID—CATULLUS: HIS LIFE, CHARACTER, AND POETRY—OTHER POETS OF THIS PERIOD.

LUCRETIUS CARUS (BORN B. C. 95.)

Lucretius Carus might claim a place amongst philosophers as well as poets, for his poem marks an epoch both in poetry and philosophy. But his philosophy is a mere reflexion from that of Greece, whilst his poetry is bright with the rays of original genius. A delineation, therefore, of his characteristics as a writer of the imagination, will present the more accurate idea of the place which he occupies amongst Roman authors. It was no empty boast of his, that, as a poet, he deserved the praise of originality—that he had opened a path through the territory of the muse, untrodden before by poet’s foot—that he had drawn from a virgin fountain, and culled fresh flowers whence the Muse had never yet sought them to wreathe a garland for the poet’s brow.[470]

Few materials exist for the compilation of his biography. From two passages[471] in his work, in which he states that his native language was Latin, it is clear that he was born within the limits of Italy. The date of his birth is generally fixed B. C. 95.[472] The prevalence of the Epicurean philosophy, and the additional popularity with which his talents invested the fashionable creed, combined to raise him to the equestrian dignity; and, consistently with his cold and hopeless atheism—his proud disbelief in a superintending Providence—he died by his own hand in the prime of life and in the forty-fourth year of his age.[473] The story that his work was written in the lucid intervals of a madness produced by a love-potion, as well as his residence at Athens for the purpose of study, rest upon no foundation.

His poem _On the Nature of Things_ is divided into six books, and is written in imitation of that of Empedocles, who is the subject of his warmest praise and admiration. Whilst its subject is philosophical and its purpose didactic, its unity of design, the one point of view from which he regards the various doctrines of the master whose principles he adopts, claims for it the rank of an epic poem.

This epic structure prevents it from being a complete and systematic survey of the whole Epicurean philosophy; but, notwithstanding this deficiency in point of comprehensiveness, the exactness and fidelity with which he represents those doctrines which he enunciates, renders him deserving of the credit of having given to his countrymen, as far as epic writing permitted, an accurate view of the philosophical system which then enjoyed the highest degree of popularity.

Although Greek philosophy furnished Lucretius with his subject, and a Greek poem served as a model, he also saw and valued the capabilities of the Latin language—he wielded at will its power of embodying the noblest thoughts, and showed how its copious and flexible properties could overcome the hard technicalities of science. Grand as were his conceptions, the language of Lucretius is not inferior to them in majesty. Without violating philosophical accuracy, he never appears to feel it a restraint to his muse: his fancy is always lively, his imagination has free scope even when his thoughts are fixed in the abstrusest theories, and engaged in the most subtle argumentation.[474]

The great beauty of the poetry of Lucretius is its variety. One might expect sublimity in the philosopher who penetrates the secrets of the natural world, and discloses to the eye of man the hidden causes of its wonderful phenomena. His object was a lofty one; for, although the irrational absurdities of the national creed drove him into the opposite evils of skepticism and unbelief, his aim was to set the intellect free from the trammels of superstition. But besides grandeur and sublimity we find the totally different poetical qualities of softness and tenderness. Rome had long known nothing but war, and was now rent by that worst and most demoralizing kind of war, civil dissension. Lucretius yearned for peace; and his prayer, that the fabled goddess of all that is beautiful in nature would heal the wounds which discord had made, is distinguished by tenderness and pathos even more than by sublimity. The whole passage is superior to the poetry of Ovid in force, although inferior in facility. His versification is not so smooth and harmonious as that of Virgil, who flourished in a period when the language had attained a higher degree of perfection, and the Roman ear was more educated, and therefore more delicately attuned, but it is never harsh and rugged, and always falls upon the ear with a swelling and sonorous melody. Virgil appreciated his excellence, and imitated not only single expressions, but almost entire verses and passages.[475]

As an example of sublimity, few passages can equal that in which he describes the prostration of human intellect under the grievous superstition, the dauntless purpose of Epicurus to free men from her oppressive rule, and to enable him to burst open the portals of Nature’s treasure-house, and thus gain a victory which will place him on an equality with the inhabitants of heaven:—

Humana ante oculos fede quom vita jaceret In terris, oppressa gravi sub Religione, Quæ caput a cœli regionibus ostendebat, Horribili super aspectu mortalibus instans; Primum Graius homo mortales tendere contra Est oculos ausus, primusque obsistere contra; Quem neque fama deûm nec fulmina nec minitanti Murmure compressit cœlum, sed eo magis acrem Irritât animi virtutem, effringere ut arcta Naturæ primus portarum claustra cupiret. Ergo vivida vis animi pervicit et extra Processit longe flammantia mœnia mondi, Atque omne immensum peragravit mente animoque; Unde refert nobis victor, quid possit oriri, Quid nequeat; finita potestas denique quoique Quanam sit ratione, atque alte terminus hærens. Quare Religio, pedibus subjecta, vicissim Obteritur; nos exæquat victoria cœlo. Lib. i. 63.

The idea which the poet here presents to the mind of his readers is of the same kind with that which pervades the writings of the Greek tragedians: it is that of the limited energies of mortals resolutely struggling with a superior and almost irresistible power.

The thrilling narrative of the plague at Athens, with all its physical and moral horrors, is one of the most heart-rending specimens of descriptive poetry. The stern rejection of all fear of death, though based upon a denial of the immortality of the soul, is a noble burst of poetical as well as philosophical enthusiasm; and the fifth book displays that perfect finish and accomplished grace which characterizes all the best Roman poets. Amongst the most affecting passages may be enumerated those which describe the early sorrows of the human race, and the grief of the bereaved animal whose young one has been slain in sacrifice.[476] Two other fine passages are the philosophical explanation of Tartarus, and the panoramic view of the tempest of human desires, seen from the rocky heights of philosophy—a glorious descriptive piece which has been imitated by Lord Bacon.

The following lines show how beautifully the poet has caught the spirit and feeling of Greek fancy, and how capable the Latin language now was of adequately expressing them:—

Aulide quo pacto Triviai virginis aram Iphianassai turparunt sanguine fede Ductores Danaum delectei, prima virorum Cui simul infula, virgineos circumdata comtus, Ex utraque pari malarum parte profusa est; Et mœstum simul ante aras astare parentem Sensit, et hunc propter ferrum celare ministros, Aspectuque suo lacrumas effundere civeis; Muta metu, terram genibus summissa, petebat: Nec miseræ prodesse in tali tempore quibat, Quod patrio princeps donarat nomine regem Nam sublata virum manibus, tremebundaque, ad aras Deducta est; non ut, solenni more sacrorum Perfecto, posset claro comitari hymenæo; Sed, casta incerte, nubendi tempore in ipso, Hostia concideret mactatu mœsta parentis, Exitus ut classi felix faustusque daretur. Tantum religio potuit suadere malorum!

By that Diana’s cruel altar flowed With innocent and royal virgin’s blood: Unhappy maid! with sacred ribands bound, Religious pride! and holy garlands crowned; To meet an undeserved, untimely fate, Led by the Grecian chiefs in pomp and state; She saw her father by, whose tears did flow In streams—the only pity he could show. She saw the crafty priest conceal the knife From him, blessed and prepared against her life! She saw her citizens, with weeping eyes, Unwillingly attend the sacrifice. Then, dumb with grief, her tears did pity crave, But ’twas beyond her father’s power to save. In vain did innocence, youth, and beauty plead; In vain the first pledge of his nuptial bed; She fell—even now grown ripe for bridal joy— To bribe the gods, and buy a wind for Troy. So died this innocent, this royal maid: Such fiendish acts religion could persuade. _Creech._

It cannot be denied that there are in the poem of Lucretius many barren wastes over which are scattered the rubbish and _débris_ of a false philosophy; but even in these deserts the oases are numerous enough to prevent exhaustion and fatigue. They recur too frequently to enumerate them all. If the attempt were made, other tastes would still discover fresh examples.

The following is, in a few words, the plan and structure of the poem:—Its professed object is to emancipate mankind from the debasing effects of superstition by an exposition of the leading tenets of the Epicurean school. It is divided into six books. In the first, the poet enunciates and copiously illustrates the grand axiom of his system of the universe, together with the corollaries which necessarily arise from it. “Nothing is created out of nothing.” He commences also the subject of the atomic theory. In the second book he pursues the subject of creation generally, and the various functions of animal life. The third treats of the nature of the soil. The fourth contains the theory of sensation, especially of sight; of the relation which thought bears to matter; of the passions, and especially of the influence of love, both physical and moral. The fifth book is devoted to the history of mankind. The sixth explains the phenomena of the natural world, including those of disease and death.

The following are the leading Epicurean doctrines imbodied in the poem:—There are divine beings, but they are neither the creators[477] nor the governors of the world.[478] They live in the enjoyment of perfect happiness and repose, regardless of human affairs, unaffected by man’s virtues and vices, happiness or misery. Neither have they the power any more than the will to interfere in the affairs of the world, for they cannot resist the eternal laws of nature and destiny. Whilst, in deference to the innate sense which revolts at the denial of a God, he acknowledges the existence of divine beings, the proofs which he adduces as derived from his great master are weak and unsatisfactory.[479] The corollary of this disbelief in Divine Providence is practical atheism. The ideas which man entertains of God are false, because they are the mere creations of the imagination. Ignorant of the real causes which lead to natural phenomena, he conjures up these as the machinery to account for them.[480] The popular belief is groundless; and yet the poet believes that if this system is overthrown there is nothing to supply its place, and hence all worship, whether prayer or praise, is grovelling superstition.[481] The only true piety consists in calm and peaceful contemplation.[482]

To those who argue that unbelief leads to ungodliness, his answer is that what man calls religion has led to the greatest crimes.[483] He is not entirely destitute of the religious sentiment or the principle of faith, for he deifies nature[484] and has a veneration for her laws; and hence his infidelity must be viewed rather in the light of a philosophical protest against the degrading results of heathen superstition than a total rejection of the principle of religious faith.

It is here that Lucretius seems for awhile to leave the authority of Epicurus; and with the inspiration of a poet, which is hardly consistent with a total absence of veneration and faith, to forsake his cold and heartless system. Although he asserts that the phenomena of nature are the result of a combination of atoms, that these elementary particles are self-existent and eternal, he seems to invest nature with a sort of personality. The warm sensibility of the poet overcomes the cold logic of the philosopher. Dissatisfied with the ungenial idea of an abstract lifeless principle, he yearns for the maternal caresses of a being endued with energies and faculties with which he can sympathize. He therefore ascribes to nature an attribute which can only belong to an intelligent agent having ruling power. Nay, he even goes farther than this, and absolutely contradicts the dogmas of the Epicurean school. Even the works of nature are represented as instinct with life.[485] The sun is spoken of as a being who, by the warmth of his beams, vivifies all things: the earth, from whose womb all things spring, fosters and nurtures all her children. The very stars may possibly be living beings, performing their stated motions in search of their proper sustenance.[486] These are, doubtless, the fancies of the poet rather than the grave and serious belief of the philosopher; but they prove how false, hollow, and artificial is a system which pretends to account for creation by natural causes, and how earnestly the human mind craves after the comfort and support of a personal deity.

The denial of the immortality of the soul is inferred from the destructibility of the material elements out of which it is composed. It must perish immediately that it is deprived of the protection of the body.[487] In accordance with this psychical theory, he accounts for the difference of human tempers and characters. Character results from the combination of the elementary principles:—a predominance of heat produces the choleric disposition; that of wind produces timidity; that of air a calm and equable temper.[488] But this natural constitution, the strength of the will, acted upon by education, is able, to a certain extent, to modify, though it cannot effect a complete change. Thus it is that, although moral as well as physical phenomena are produced in accordance with fixed laws, human ills result from unbridled passions, and may be remedied by philosophy.

Although, if tried by a Christian standard, the Lucretian morality is by no means pure,[489] yet even where he permits laxity he is not insensible to the moral beauty, the happy and holy results of purity and chastity.[490] Nor, notwithstanding the assertions of Cicero,[491] can the charge of immorality or of a selfish love of impure pleasure be made against Lucretius or Epicurus. The distinction which the latter drew between lawful and unlawful pleasures was severe and uncompromising. The former speaks of the hell which the wicked sensualist always carries within his own breast[492]—of the satisfaction of true wisdom,[493] and of a conscience void of offence.[494]

Again, Epicurus was a man of almost Christian gentleness. Stoical grossness and contempt of refinement revolted him; the unamiable severity of that sect was alien to his nature. He was thus driven to the opposite extreme; and although he was careful to make pure intellectual pleasure the _summum bonum_, his standard laid him open to objections from his jealous adversaries. The zeal with which many distinguished females devoted themselves to his system, and became his disciples because his doctrines and character especially recommended themselves to the female sex, made it easy for his enemies to stigmatize them as _effeminate_, instead of praising them as _feminine_. With that illiberality which refused to woman freedom of conduct and a liberal education, his adversaries calumniated the characters of his pupils, represented them as unchaste, and their instructor as licentious. Nor did they hesitate even to support these accusations by forgeries.[495]

A careless reception of their calumnies without investigation, added to the general, and perhaps wilful, misapprehension which prevailed among the Romans in the days of Cicero, led to the misrepresentations which are found in his writings. These have been handed down to after ages: and thus the doctrines taught by Epicurus have been loaded with undeserved obloquy.[496] There is, however, no doubt that Epicurism was adopted by the Romans in a corrupt form, and that it became fashionable because it was supposed to encourage indifferentism and sensuality. It is probable, too, that the denial of immortality contributed much to the depravation and distortion of his system. Nothing so surely demoralizes as destroying the hopes of eternity. Man cannot commune with God, or soar on high to spiritual things, unless he hopes to be spiritualized and to see God as He is. Whatever the philosopher may teach as to the true nature of happiness, man will set up his own corrupt standard, which his passions and appetites lead him to prefer: he will act on the principle “Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die.” Still it must be confessed that the views of Epicurus respecting man’s duty to God were disinterested—founded on ideas of the Divine perfections, not merely on hopes of reward.[497] His views of sensual pleasures were in accordance with his simple, frugal life, diametrically opposed to intemperance and excess. He taught by example as well as by precept, that he who would be happy must cultivate wisdom and justice, because virtue and happiness are inseparable. He attached his disciples to him by affection rather than by admiration; submitted to weakness and sickness with patient resignation; and died with a heroism which no Stoic could have surpassed.

Such was the master whom Lucretius followed, and the school to which he belonged; and though the sternness of the Roman character breathed into his protest against superstition a bolder spirit of defiance than that of the placid and resigned Greek, his teaching was equally pure and noble, and he would have proudly disdained to make philosophy a cloak for voluptuous profligacy. Poets who surpassed him in gracefulness, and who were fortunate enough to flourish when the Latin language had become more plastic, paid due honour to his greatness. Virgil celebrates the happiness of that man:—

—— qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas, Atque metus omnes, et inexorabile fatum Subjecit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari.[498]

His muse is instinct with Lucretian spirit when he describes with such graphic skill the murrain attacking the brute creation;[499] and Ovid exclaims that the sublime strains of Lucretius shall never perish until the day shall arrive when the world shall be given up to destruction.

CATULLUS (BORN B. C. 86.)

Contemporary with the great didactic poet, but nine years his junior in age, flourished C. Valerius Catullus. He was a member of a good family, residing on the Lago di Garda, in the neighbourhood of Verona,[500] and his father had the honour of frequently receiving Cæsar as his guest.[501] At an early age he went to Rome, probably for education, but his warm temperament and strong passions plunged him into the licentious excesses of the capital. During this period of his career, passed in the indulgence of pleasure and gayety, and in the midst of a dissipated society, he had no more serious occupation than the cultivation of his literary tastes and talents. The elegant tenderness of his amatory poetry made him a favourite with the fair sex, for its licentiousness was not out of keeping with the sentiments and conversation prevalent in the Roman fashionable world. It must not be supposed that the tone of society amongst the higher classes was pure and moral, like that of Cicero and his friends, or that it was not marked by the same licentious freedom which polluted some even of their most graceful poems.

The poetry of Catullus was such as might be expected from the tenor of his life. The excuse which he made for its character was not a valid one;[502] for the line in Hadrian’s epitaph on Voconius could not possibly be applied to him:—

Lascivus versu, mente pudicus eras.[503]

His mistress, whom he addresses under the feigned name of Lesbia, was really named Clodia.[504] It has been said that she was the sister of the infamous Clodius; but there are no grounds for the assertion.

A career of extravagance and debauchery terminated in ruin, and though his fortune had been originally ample, his affairs became hopelessly embarrassed; and in order to retrieve them by colonial plunder, he accompanied Memmius, the friend of Lucretius, when he went as prætor to Bythinia. Owing, however, to the grasping meanness of his patron his expectations were disappointed. He returned home “with his purse full of cobwebs.” Still he enjoyed the privilege of visiting those cities of Greece and Asia which were the most celebrated for literature and the fine arts.

When he went to Asia he visited the grave of a brother who had died in the Troad, and who was buried on the Rhætian promontory; and a poem which he addressed on the occasion to Hortalus, the dissipated son of the orator Hortensius, as well as another dedicated to Manlius, bear witness to the warmth of his fraternal affection. The former is a beautiful and touching specimen of his elegiac style:—

Multas per gentes et multa per æquora vectus, Adveni has miseras frater ad inferias. Ut te postremo donarem munere mortis Et mutum nequidquam alloquerer cinerem. Quandoquidem fortuna mihi tete abstulit ipsum Has miser indigne frater adempte mihi! Nunc tamen interea prisco quæ more parentum Tradita sub tristes munera ad inferias Accipe fraterno multum manantia fletu Atque in perpetuum frater ave atque vale!

On his return to Rome he resumed his old habits, and died in the prime of life, probably B. C. 47, as that is the latest date to which allusion is made in his writings.

His works consist of numerous short fugitive pieces of a lyrical character; elegies, such as that already quoted; a secular hymn to Diana; a poem, somewhat of a dithyrambic character, entitled Atys; and the Epithalamium of Peleus and Thetis, a mythological poem in heroic verse. His taste was evidently formed on a study of the Greek poets, from whom he learnt not only his beautiful hendecasyllables, but also their modes of thought and expression. He had skill and taste to adopt the materials with which his vast erudition furnished him, and to conceal his want of originality and inspiration. Some of his pieces are translations from the Greek, as, for example, the elegy on the hair of Berenice, which is taken from the Greek of Callimachus, and the celebrated ode of Sappho.[505] He was one of the most popular of the Roman poets—firstly, because he possessed those qualities which the literary society of Rome most highly valued, namely, polish and learning; and secondly, because, although he was an imitator, there is a living reality about all that he wrote—a truly Roman nationality. He did not merely disguise the inspiration of Greece in a Latin dress, but invested Roman life, and thoughts, and social habits with the ideal of Greek love and beauty. For these reasons his fame flourished as long as Rome possessed a classical literature. Two eminent men only have withheld their admiration—Horace in the golden age; Quintilian in the period of the decline. The former disparages him as a lyrical poet; the latter almost passes him over in silence. Horace was jealous of a rival who was so nearly equal to himself: he could not bear the remotest chance of his claim being disputed to be the musician of the Roman lyre;[506] and he dishonestly declared that he first adapted Æolian strains to the Roman lyre,[507] notwithstanding the Lesbian character and hendecasyllabic metres of his predecessor. Quintilian could not appreciate Catullus, because his own taste was too stiff and affected, and spoilt by the rhetorical spirit of his age.

Catullus had a talent for satire, but his satire was not inspired by a noble indignation at vice and wrong. It was the bitter resentment of a vindictive spirit: his love and his hate were both purely selfish. His language of love expresses the feelings of an impure voluptuary; his language of scorn those of a disappointed one. He gratified his irritable temper by attacking Cæsar most offensively; but the noble Roman would not crush the insect which annoyed him; and although Catullus insulted him personally by reading his lampoons in his presence, not a change passed over his countenance: he would not stoop to avenge himself: and the imperial clemency disarmed the anger of the libeller. The strong prejudice of Niebuhr in favour of Roman antiquity led him to pronounce Catullus a gigantic and extraordinary genius, equal in every respect to the lyric poets of Greece previously to the time of Sophocles; he believed him to be the greatest poet Rome ever possessed, except, perhaps, some few of the early ones; but that great man also thought that Virgil had mistaken his vocation in becoming an epic instead of a lyric poet.[508] Catullus certainly possessed great excellences and talents of the most alluring and captivating kind. No genius ever displayed itself under a greater variety of aspects. He has the playfulness and the petulance of a girl, the vivacity and simplicity of a child. He has never been surpassed in gracefulness, melody, and tenderness. No one, unless he possessed the coolness and self-command of a Cæsar, could have avoided wincing under the sharp attacks of his wit: he had passion and vehemence, but he had not the grandeur and sublimity either of Lucretius or Virgil.

Although the peculiar characteristics of his poetry are chiefly to be found in his lyric and elegiac poems, there are in his longer pieces, which are less known and less admired, passages of singular sweetness and beauty. He had not sufficient grasp and comprehensiveness of mind to conduct an epic poem. His knowledge of human nature, confined as it was to one of its phases—the development of the softer affections—did not admit of sufficient variety for so vast a work. His intellectual taste, like his moral principles, was too ill-regulated to construct a well-digested plan, necessary to the perfection of an epic poem; but wherever ingenuity and liveliness in description, or pathos in moving the affections, are required, the poetry of Catullus does not yield to that of Ovid or of Virgil.

The poem, entitled the marriage of Peleus and Thetis, bears some slight resemblance to an heroic poem. Its subject is heroic, for it imbodies a legend of the heroic age. The characters of mythology play a part in it, similar to that which they support in the poems of Homer or Virgil. But it is unconnected and deficient in unity; and the plan is far too extensive for the dimensions by which it is circumscribed. Nevertheless, with all these faults, it is pleasing on account of the luxuriance of its fancy and the brilliancy of its genius. The most beautiful passage, perhaps, is the episode relating the story of Theseus and Ariadne, which is introduced into the main body of the poem as being woven and embroidered on the hangings of the palace of Holeus. The following verses are taken from this episode,[509] and form part of the complaint of Ariadne for the perfidious desertion of Theseus:—

Siccine discedens, neglecto numine Divûm, Immemor ah! devota domum perjuria portas? Nullane res potuit crudelis flectere mentis Consilium? tibi nulla fuit clementia præsto, Immite ut nostri vellet mitescere pectus? At non hæc quondam nobis promissa dedisti Voce; mihi non hoc miseræ sperare jubebas; Sed connubia læta, sed optatos hymenæos; Quæ cuncta aërii discerpunt irrita venti. Jam jam nulla viro juranti fœmina credat, Nulla viri speret sermones esse fideles; Qui, dum aliquid cupiens animus prægestit apisci, Nil metuunt jurare, nihil promittere parcunt; Sed simul ac cupidæ mentis satiata libido est, Dicta nihil metuere, nihil perjuria curant. Certe ego te in medio versantem turbine leti Eripui, et potius germanum amittere crevi, Quam tibi fallaci supremo in tempore deessem. Pro quo dilaceranda feris dabor, alitibusque Præda, neque injecta tumulabor mortua terra. Quænam te genuit sola sub rupe leæna? Quod mare conceptum spumantibus exspuit undis? Quæ Syrtis, quæ Scylla vorax, quæ vasta Charybdis, Talia qui reddis pro dulci præmia vitæ? Si tibi non cordi fuerant connubia nostra, Sæva quod horrebas prisci præcepta parentis; Attamen in vestras potuisti ducere sedes, Quæ tibi jucundo famularer serva labore, Candida permulcens liquidis vestigia lymphis, Purpureave tuum consternens veste cubile. Sed quid ego ignaris nequicquam conqueror auris, Externata malo? quæ nullis sensibus auctæ Nec missas audire queunt, nec reddere voces.—132–161.

And couldst thou, Theseus, from her native land Thy Ariadne bring, then cruel so Desert thy victim on a lonely strand? And didst thou, perjured, dare to Athens go, Nor dread the weight of Heaven’s avenging blow? Could naught thy heart with sacred pity touch? Naught make thy soul the baleful plot forego ’Gainst her that loved thee? Ah! not once were such The vows, the hopes, thy smooth professions did avouch!

Then all was truth, then did thy honeyed tongue Of wedded faith the flattering fable weave. All, all unto the winds of heaven are flung! Henceforth let never listening maid believe Protesting man. When their false hearts conceive The selfish wish, to all but pleasure blind, No words they spare, no oaths unuttered leave; But when possession cloys their pampered mind, No care have they for oaths, no words their honour bind.

For this, then, I from instant death did cover Thy faithless bosom; and for this preferred, Even to a brother’s blood, a perjured lover; Now to be torn by savage beast and bird, With no due form, no decent rite, interred! What foaming sea, what savage of the night, In murky den thy monstrous birth conferred? What whirlpool guides and gave thee to the light, The welcome boon of life thus basely to requite?

What though thy royal father’s stern command The bond of marriage to our lot forbade, Oh! safely still into thy native land I might have gone thy happy serving maid; There gladly washed thy snowy feet or laid Upon thy blissful bed the purple vest. Ah, vain appeal! upon the winds conveyed, The heedless winds, that hear not my behest: No words his ear can reach or penetrate his breast!

The writers of the Augustan age and their successors paid Catullus what they considered the highest compliment, when they called him _learned_. Criticism referred everything to the Greek standard. The qualities which they recognised by this epithet were those which they deemed most valuable—more so even than originality and invention—an extensive acquaintance with the materials of Greek story, an elaborate study of the poets taken as models, a scientific appreciation of the cadences and harmonies of Greek versification. They were grateful for the blessings which they were conscious of having derived from mental cultivation; and the highest praise which they could bestow was to confer upon a poet the title of a learned and accomplished man.

This period, at which prose reached its zenith, could boast of other poets, also, besides Lucretius and Catullus, whose merits were considerable although they did not satisfy the fastidious taste of the Augustan age. There flourished C. Licinius Calvus,[510] C. Helvius Cinna, Valerius Cato, Valgius, Ticida, Furius Bibaculus, and Varro Atacinus.

The first of these was a lively little man,[511] an orator as well as a poet. His speeches were elaborately modelled after those of the Attic orators; and had his poems displayed the same polish, they might have satisfied Horace[512] and his contemporaries, and thus have been preserved. As it is, the fragments which remain are so brief, that it is impossible to say whether his merits were such as to justify Niebuhr in placing him amongst the three greatest poets of his age. His poetry resembled that of Catullus in spirit and morality. It was the fashionable poetry of the day, and consisted of tender elegy, playful and sentimental epigram, licentious love-songs, and bitter personality.

Cinna,[513] besides smaller poems, was the author of an epic, entitled Smyrna; the subject is unknown: but Catullus, who was his intimate friend, praises it highly, and Virgil modestly declares that, as compared with Varius and Cinna, he himself appears a goose amongst swans.[514] Valerius Cato was a grammarian as well as a poet. His two principal poems were entitled Lydia and Diana;[515] and a fragmentary poem, to which the title _Diræ_ or _Curses_[516] has been given, has been generally attributed to him on the grounds that the author pours forth his woes to a mistress named Lydia. The argument of the piece is as follows:—The estate of Cato, like that of Virgil, was confiscated and made a military colony; and smarting under a sense of wrong, he imprecates curses on his lost home. Then the theme changes: his heart softens; and in sad accents he bewails his separation from his mistress, and from all his rural pleasures. This poem was formerly believed to be the work of Virgil, but neither the language nor the poetry can be compared to those of the Mantuan bard; nor do the sentiments resemble the calmness and resignation with which he bears his misfortunes. J. Scaliger, impressed with these considerations, transferred the authorship from Virgil to Cato. But there are no sufficient grounds for determining the question.

Respecting C. Valgius Rufus all is doubt and obscurity. The grammarians quote from him; Pliny[517] speaks of his learning; Horace[518] refers to him as an elegiac poet, and expresses the greatest confidence in his critical taste and judgment. Ticida is mentioned by Suetonius as bearing testimony to the merits of Valerius Cato. Bibaculus was a bitter satirist, who spared not the feelings of his friend Cato when reduced from affluence to poverty;[519] who himself had the vanity to attempt an epic poem, and by his vulgar taste provoked the severe criticism of Horace.[520]

P. Terentius Varro Atacinus was a contemporary of Varro Reatinus; and for this reason his works have often been confounded with those of the latter. He was born B. C. 82,[521] near the river Atax in Gaul, and hence he was surnamed Atacinus, in order to distinguish him from his learned namesake, who derived his appellation from property which he possessed at Reati. Very few fragments of his works are extant,[522] although his poetry was of such a character that Virgil deemed some of his lines worthy of plagiarizing.[523] His principal work, which is not spoken of in very high terms by Quintilian,[524] is a translation of the Argonautica of Apollonius Rhodius. Besides this, he wrote two geographical poems, namely, the _Chorographia_ and _Libri Navales_, a heroic poem entitled _Bellum Sequanicum_, on one of the Gallic campaigns of J. Cæsar, and also some elegies, epigrams, and saturæ.[525]

A fragment of the Chorographia is preserved by Meyer,[526] the concluding lines of which were evidently imitated by Virgil, and also the following severe epigram on Licinius:—

Marmoreo Licinus tumulo jacet, at Cato nullo, Pompeius parvo; Quis putet esse Deos? Saxa premunt Licinum, levat altum fama Catonem, Pompeium tituli. Credimus esse Deos.