The question regarding the author of the Pervigilium Veneris is still a _lis sub judice_. Aldus, Erasmus, and Meursius, attributed it to Catullus; but subsequent editors have, with much more probability, contended that its age is considerably later. We may notice a scholastic and philosophical spirit about it, which is ill-suited to the Bard of Verona. Lipsius claimed it for the Augustan age, in consequence of the mention of Cæsar which is introduced. But we think we may safely assume, that the observance of this vigil grew into custom after the time of Ovid, otherwise it is difficult to account for the total absence of all allusion, in his Fasti, to a subject so perfectly adapted to his verse. But we will not enter any further into a discussion which Salmasius and Scaliger could not settle, but shall at once present our readers with the following translation of the Pervigilium Veneris:-- He that never loved before, Let him love to-morrow! He that hath loved o'er and o'er, Let him love to-morrow! Spring, young Spring, with song and mirth, Spring is on the newborn earth. Spring is here, the time of love-- The merry birds pair in the grove, And the green trees hang their tresses, Loosen'd by the rain's caresses. To-morrow sees the dawn of May, When Venus will her sceptre sway, Glorious, in her justice-hall: There where woodland shadows fall, On bowers of myrtle intertwined, Many a band of love she'll bind. He that never, &c. To-morrow is the day when first From the foam-world of Ocean burst, Like one of his own waves, the bright Dione, queen of love and light, Amid the sea-gods' azure train, 'Mid the strange horses of the main. He that never, &c. She it is that lends the Hours Their crimson glow, their jewel-flowers: At her command the buds are seen, Where the west-wind's breath hath been, To swell within their dwellings green. She abroad those dewdrops flings, Dew that night's cool softness brings; How the bright tears hang declining, And glisten with a tremulous shining, Almost of weight to drop away, And yet too light to leave the spray. Hence the tender plants are bold Their blushing petals to unfold: 'Tis that dew, which through the air Falls from heaven when night is fair, That unbinds the moist green vest From the floweret's maiden breast. 'Tis Venus' will, when morning glows, 'Twill be the bridal of each rose. Then the bride-flower shall reveal, What her veil cloth now conceal, The blush divinest, which of yore She caught from Venus' trickling gore, With Love's kisses mix'd, I trow, With blaze of fire, and rubies' glow, And with many a crimson ray Stolen from the birth of day. He that never, &c.