is one of the best known of Latin poems;
and before its sorrow, its simplicity, its piteous tenderness, the
astonishing cadence of its rhythms, praise itself seems almost
profanation.

"Tenderest of Roman poets nineteen hundred years ago--" so Tennyson in
one of his own beautiful lyrics addresses Catullus; and it is this
unsurpassed tenderness that more than all his other admirable
qualities, than his consummate technical skill, than his white heat of
passion, than his "clearness as of the terrible crystal," brings him
and keeps him near our hearts.

That wonderful Ciceronian age has left its mark as few ages have, deep
upon human history. The conquests and legislation of Julius Caesar
determined the future of Europe and laid the foundation of the modern
world. The prose invented by Cicero became and still remains the
common language of civilized mankind. Among the poems of Catullus are
verses addressed to both of these men; but his own young ivy-crowned
brows shine out of the darkness and the distance, with no less pure a
radiance and no less imperishable a fame.

[Signature: J.W. Mackail]

NOTE.--In Mr. Mackail's closing phrase the lover of Ovid will
note an echo from that poet's famous elegy suggested by the
premature death of still another Roman singer, Tibullus. Among
the kindred spirits--says Ovid--who will welcome the new-comer
to the Elysian fields,--

"Thou, O learned Catullus, thy young brows ivy-encircled,
Bringing thy Calvus with thee, wilt to receive him appear."

ED.

DEDICATION FOR A VOLUME OF LYRICS

This dainty little book and new,
Just polished with the pumice, who
Shall now receive?--Cornelius, you!

For these my trifles even then
You counted of some value, when
You only of Italian men

Into three tomes had dared to cast
The story of all ages past,--
Learned, O Jupiter, and vast!

So take it, prize it as you may.
--And, gracious Virgin, this I pray:
That it shall live beyond our day!

Translation of W. C. Lawton.

A MORNING CALL

Varus would take me t'other day
To see a little girl he knew,--
Pretty and witty in her way,
With impudence enough for two.

Scarce are we seated, ere she chatters
(As pretty girls are wont to do)
About all persons, places