“Νυν ποι τραπωμαι; ποτερα προς πατρος δομους Ὁυς σοι προδουσα και πατραν αφικομην.” The grief and repentance of Ariadne are at length followed by a sense of personal danger and hardship; and her pathetic soliloquy terminates with execrations on the author of her misfortunes, to which— “Annuit invicto cœlestûm numine rector; Quo tunc et tellus, atque horrida contremuerunt Æquora, concussitque micantia sidera mundus,” an image probably derived from the celebrated description in the Iliad—Ἠ και κυανεησιν, &c. This promise of Jupiter was speedily accomplished, in the well-known and miserable fate of Ægeus, the father of Theseus. We are naturally led to compare with Catullus, the efforts of his own countrymen, particularly those of Ovid and Virgil, in portraying the agonies of deserted nymphs and princesses. Both these poets have borrowed largely from their predecessor. Ovid has treated the subject of Ariadne not less than four times. In the epistle of Ariadne to Theseus, he has painted, like Catullus, her disordered person—her sense of desertion, and remembrance of the benefits she had conferred on Theseus: But the epistle is a cold production, chiefly because her grief is not immediately presented before us; and she merely tells that she had wept, and sighed, and raved. The minute detail, too, into which she enters, is inconsistent with her vehement passion. She recollects too well each heap of sand which retarded her steps, and the thorns on the summit of the mountain. Returning from her wanderings, she addresses her couch, of which she asks advice, till she becomes overpowered by apprehension for the wild beasts and marine monsters, of which she presents her false lover with a faithful catalogue. The simple ideas of Catullus are frequently converted into conceits, and his natural bursts of passion, into quibbles and artificial points. In the eighth book of the _Metamorphoses_, the melancholy part of Ariadne’s story is only recalled, in order to introduce the transformation of her crown into a star. In the third book of the _Fasti_, she deplores the double desertion of Theseus and Bacchus. It is in the first book of the _Art of Love_, that Ovid approaches nearest to Catullus, particularly in the sudden contrast between the solitude and melancholy of Ariadne, and the revelry of the Bacchanalians. Some of Virgil’s imitations of Catullus have been already pointed out: But part of the complaint of Dido is addressed to her betrayer, and contains a bitterness of sarcasm, and eloquence of reproof, which neither Catullus nor Ovid could reach.