what may be called a somewhat conventional cast, which acquire individuality from the colour of local associations, such as the introduction (at xii. 715) of two bulls battling together (as they are also described in the Georgics)—— ingenti Sila, summove Taburno; the comparison (at xii. 701 etc.) of Aeneas, towering in all his warlike power, to Athos or Eryx aut ipse, coruscis Cum fremit ilicibus, quantus, gaudetque nivali and that at ix. 680, etc., in which the two sons of Alcanor are likened to two tall oaks growing Sive Padi ripis Athesim seu propter amoenum". But there are other comparisons in Virgil indicative of more original invention, observation, and reflexion, which serve the true purpose of imaginative analogies, viz. that of exalting the peculiar sentiment with which the poet desires the situation he is describing to be regarded. In the perception of these analogies it is not merely intellectual curiosity that is gratified by the apprehension of the roûTO Kevo in the phenomena; but the imagination is enlarged by the recognition of analogous forces operating in different spheres, which separately are capable of producing a vivid and noble emotion. As an instance of this perception of the analogy between great forces in different spheres, the one of human, the other of natural activity, we may take the comparison of the Italian host advancing in orderly march after its tumultuous gathering from many quarters, to the movement of mighty rivers when their component waters have found their appointed bed Ceu septem surgens sedatis amnibus altus Per tacitum Ganges, aut pingui flumine Nilus Or with the grandeur of father Appenninus himself, when he makes his waving ilexes heard aloud, and is glad as he towers with snowy summit to the sky.' 2 Either on the banks of the Po, or by the fair Adige.' As Ganges swelling high in silence with its seven calm streams, or the Others again show the vivid interest mixed with poetical wonder which animated Virgil's power of observation in his Georgics— as for instance that at i. 430 of the busy workers in Carthage to bees in early summer toiling among the flowery fields—an image ennobled also by Milton, who characteristically describes the bees as 'conferring their state-affairs, while it is not to their political, but to their industrial, martial, and social or domestic aptitudes, (cum gentis adultos Educunt fetus) that Virgil draws attention. Of the same class is the comparison at iv. 404, etc., of the Trojans preparing to leave the shores of Carthage to the movement of ants engaged in gathering together some heap of corn for their winter's store It nigrum campis agmen, etc. Others again are suggested by his subtle and sympathetic discernment of the conditions of inward feeling; as the comparison at iv. 70, etc. of Dido to the hind, which, unsuspecting of danger, has received a mortal wound from a hand ignorant of the harm which it has inflicted haeret lateri letalis harundo. The awe and mystery of the unseen world suggest the comparison of the crowd of shades pressing round Charon's boat to innumerable leaves falling in the woods, or to flocks of birds driven across the sea by the first cold of autumn Quam multa in silvis autumni frigore primo Lapsa cadunt folia, aut ad terram gurgite ab alto The point of comparison in this simile is not merely the obvious Nile when with its fertilising flood it ebbs from the plains, and has already subsided within its channel. ix. 30-2. 'As many as the leaves that fall in the woods at the first cold touch of autumn, or as many as the birds which are gathered to the land from the deep, when the chill of the year banishes them beyond the sea, and wafts them into sunny lands.' vi. 309–312. one of the number of leaves falling or birds flying across the sea in autumn, but rather the inner likeness between the passive helplessness with which the leaves have yielded to the chill touch of the year, and that with which the shades-vekÚv ȧμevηvà kápηva-have yielded to the chill touch of death. Nor perhaps is it pressing the language of Virgil too far to suppose that in the words 'terris inmittit apricis' he means to leave on the mind a feeling of some happier possibilities in death than the certainty of cold obstruction.' One of the most cha racteristically Virgilian similes-that at vi. 453 qualem primo qui surgere mense Aut videt, aut vidisse putat per nubila Lunam is almost a translation of the lines of Apollonius (iv. 1447)- but the whole poetical power of the passage consists in the application of the image to the sudden recognition by Aeneas of the pale and shadowy form of his forsaken love, dimly discerned through the gloom of the lower world. Other images are suggested by the poet's delicate sense of grace in flower or plant, combined with his tender compassion for the beauty of youth perishing prematurely. Such are those which enable us more vividly to realise the pathos of the death of Euryalus and of the burial of Pallas. Yet though these images are characteristically Virgilian, they also bear unmistakeable traces of imitation. The lines Purpureus veluti cum flos succisus aratro and again— 1 'Like the moon when one sees it early in the month, or fancies he has seen it rise through mists.' 'So to see, as when one sees or fancies he has seen the dim moon in the early dawn.' 2As when a purple flower cut down by the plough pines and dies, or as poppies droop their head wearily, when weighed down by the rain.' Qualem, virgineo demessum pollice, florem, Cui neque fulgor adhuc, nec dum sua forma recessit; recall not only the thought and feeling of Homer μήκων δ ̓ ὡς ἑτέρωσε κάρη βάλεν etc., but the cadences and most cherished illustrations of Catullus, in whose imagination the grace of trees and the bloom of flowers are ever associated with the grace and bloom of youth and youthful passion. Had Virgil lived to devote three more years to the revisal of his work, there is no reason to suppose that he would have added anything to its substance. Some inconsistencies of statement, as, for instance, that between iii. 256 and vii. 123, would have disappeared, and some difficulties would have been cleared up. But the chief part of the 'limae labor' would have been employed in bringing the rhythm and diction of the poem to a more finished perfection than that which they exhibit at present. The unfinished lines in the poem would certainly have been completed and more closely connected with the passages immediately succeeding them. There is no indication that these lines were left purposely incomplete in order to give emphasis to some pause in the narrative. Virgil was the last poet likely to avail himself of so inartistic an innovation to give variety to his cadences. For the most part they appear to be weak props ('tibicines '2) used provisionally to fill up the gap between two passages, and indicating but not completing the thought that was to connect them. What more of elegance, of compact structure, or of varied harmony Virgil might have imparted to his rhythm, it is impossible to determine. We might conjecture that his aim 1 'Like a delicate violet, or a drooping hyacinth, when plucked by a maiden, from which the bloom and the beauty have not yet departed—but the earth does not now nourish it and supply its forces.' 2 Ac ne quid impetum moraretur quaedam imperfecta transmisit, alia levissimis versibus veluti fulsit, quos per iocum pro tibicinibus interponi aiebat ad sustinendum opus, donec solidae columnae advenirent.' Donatus, quoted by Ribbeck in the Life prefixed to his smaller edition of Virgil. would have been, as regards both expression and metrical effect, to act on the maxim 'ramos compesce fluentes,' than to give them ampler scope. In a long narrative poem like the Aeneid that perfect smoothness and solidity of rhythmical execution which characterise the Georgics-in which poem the position and weight of each single word in each single line is an element contributing to the whole effect-is hardly to be expected. A narrative poem demands a more easy, varied, and even careless movement than one of which the interest is contemplative, and which requires to be studied minutely line by line and paragraph by paragraph, before its full meaning is realised. If the movement in the Aeneid appears in some place rougher, or less compact, or more languid than in others, this may be explained not only by the imperfect state in which the poem was left, but by the difficulty or impossibility of maintaining the same uniform level of elevation in so long a flight. Yet it cannot be said that there is any loss of power, any trace of contentment with a lower ideal of perfection in the general structure of the verse of the Aeneid. The full capacities of the Latin hexameter for purposes of animated or impressive narrative, of solemn or pathetic representation, of grave or impassioned oratory, of tender, dignified, or earnest appeal to the higher emotions of man, are realised in many passages of the poem. Virgil's instrument fails, or, at least, is much inferior to Homer's, in aptitude for natural dialogue or for bringing familiar things in the freshness of immediate impression before the imagination. The stateliness of movement appropriate to such utterances as Ast ego quae Divom incedo regina1 does not readily adapt itself to the description of the process of kindling a fire or preparing a meal Ac primum silici scintillam excudit Achates, 1 'But I the stately Queen of the Gods.' 2 And first Achates struck a spark from a flint, and caught the light |