The second period was that of special refinement in prose, and of increased erudition. Cæsar and Sallust are its exponents as historians, and Cicero is its chief representative as an orator and philosopher. In a word, it was the great culmination of the Augustan age, wherein Lucretius and Catullus were the harbingers of Virgil, Horace, and Ovid, and the varied treasures of all the great masters of prose and learned poetry were garnered in the lucid narrative of Livy. As the first period was redolent of life, and the second teemed with learning, so the third is known by its excessive embellishment. It was called "the silver age," and was covered with abundance of filigree. It produced the only fabulist of Rome, Phædrus; Juvenal, the satirist; Martial, the epigrammatist; Tacitus, the historian; Quintilian, the critic; and the elegant letter-writer, Pliny. These are the best names of the later period of the Augustan age, and these decisively mark the progress of decline. Fancifulness and formalism ruled supreme, and whatever of independent thought the earlier periods had known, was now superseded by servility and decay. The Romans inherited no legendary stories adapted to the higher order of dramatic composition. The early traditions which formed the groundwork of their history were private, and not public, property--the pedigrees and memorials of separate families, and therefore not interesting to the people at large. There were no Attic Eumolpidæ on the seven hills to preserve antique reminiscences as a national treasure, nor did they, like fragrant plants, twine themselves along the rocky base of the Roman capitol, as the thrilling traditions of ancestral Greece did round the chaste altars of that susceptible people. The Latin poets might sometimes collect withered fictions, and weave them into their rhythmical records of antiquity; but they possessed no vital beauty, no talismanic power for awakening national enthusiasm. Indeed, who could heartily enjoy allusions to the past, since old Rome had been superseded by a new race. The few veterans who yet survived the bloody wars of Greece, Africa, Gaul, and Spain, were settled in remote military colonies, and a careless disregard of every thing in the metropolis, except luxurious sustenance and shows, paved the way for a speedy downfall. Rome was peopled with step-sons only, as Scipio Æmilius designated the populace, and the tragedy most genial to their taste and ambition was that which was most replete with fulsome compliments to favorite individuals. In Greece, the poet was deemed an inspired being, and his tongue was regarded as the divinest medium for the communion of the visible with the invisible; but at Rome, poetry was nothing more than a dull recreation, and its author was no better than a parasite or a slave. At Athens, the impersonation of a tragedy was an act of worship; the theatre was a temple, and the altar of a deity was its central, point. With the Romans, the thymele