“No sooner gathered from the vernal bough, Where fresh and blooming to the sight it grew. Than all who marked its opening beauty blow, Forsake the tainted sweet, and faded hue. And she who yields, forgetful of her vow, To one but newly loved, another’s due, Shall live, though high for heavenly beauty prized, By youths unhonoured, and by maids despised.” One of the lines in the passage of Catullus, “Multi illum pueri—multæ optavere puellæ,” and its converse, “Nulli illum pueri—nullæ optavere puellæ,” have been copied by Ovid in his _Metamorphoses_(499), and applied to Narcissus, “Multi illum pueri, multæ cupiere puellæ. Sed fuit in tenerâ tam dura superbia formâ, Nulli illum juvenes, nullæ tetigere puellæ.” The origin of the line, “Nec pueris jucunda manet, nec cara puellis,” may be traced to a fragment of the Greek poet Mimnermus: “Ἀλλ’ ἐχθρος μεν παισιν, ατιμαστος δε γυναιξιν.” 63. _De Ati_.—The story of Atis is one of the most mysterious of the mythological emblems. The fable was explained by Porphyry; and the Emperor Julian afterwards invented and published an allegory of this mystic tale. According to them, the voluntary emasculation of Atis was typical of the revolution of the sun between the tropics, or the separation of the human soul from vice and error. In the literal acceptation in which it is presented by Catullus, the fable seems an unpromising and rather a peculiar subject for poetry: indeed, there is no example of a similar event being celebrated in verse, except the various poems on the fate of Abelard. It is likewise the only specimen we have in Latin of the Galliambic measure; so called, because sung by Galli, the effeminate votaries of Cybele. The Romans, being a more sober and severe people than the Greeks, gave less encouragement than they to the celebration of the rites of Bacchus, and have poured forth but few dithyrambic lines. The genius of their language and of their usual style of poetry, as well as their own practical and imitative character, were unfavourable to the composition of such bold, figurative, and discursive strains. They have left no verses which can be strictly called dithyrambic, except, perhaps, the nineteenth ode of the second book of Horace, and a chorus in the _Œdipus_ of Seneca. If not perfectly dithyrambic, the numbers of the _Atis_ of Catullus are, however, strongly expressive of distraction and enthusiasm. The violent bursts of passion are admirably aided by the irresistible torrent of words, and by the cadence of a measure powerfully denoting mental agony and remorse. In this production, now unexampled in every sense of the word, Catullus is no longer the light agreeable poet, who counted the kisses of his mistress, and called on the Cupids to lament her sparrow. His ideas are full of fire, and his language of wildness: He pours forth his thoughts with an energy, rapidity, and enthusiasm, so