Virgil's list of the qualities that are desirable in a brood cow corresponds closely to those in Varro's De re rustica and in the texts which, though later, can be plausibly taken as evidence of an existing tradition. Yet, there is one exception, and it is an exception to which the poet carefully draws attention. Varro's, Columella's and Palladius’ ideal cows all share with Virgil's and with each other hairy ears, very long dewlaps and tail, and other features. However, whereas they all have narrow hooves (ungulis breuibus, Palladius), moderate at most (ungulis modicis, Columella), and certainly not broad (pedibus non latis, Varro), Virgil's cow emphatically has big feet (Verg. G. 3.51–9):

optima toruae
forma bouis cui turpe caput, cui plurima ceruix,
et crurum tenus a mento palearia pendent;
tum longo nullus lateri modus: omnia magna,
pes etiam, et camuris hirtae sub cornibus aures. 55
nec mihi displiceat maculis insignis et albo,
aut iuga detrectans interdumque aspera cornu
et faciem tauro propior, quaeque ardua tota
et gradiens ima uerrit uestigia cauda.

The best shape
for a fierce cow is one which has an ugly head, which has a lot of neck
and whose dewlaps hang from her chin all the way down to her legs;
then let there be no limit to the length of her flank: let everything be big,
even the foot, and hairy ears under in-curving horns,
and I would approve of her being marked with white spots,
either refusing the yoke or sometimes fierce with her horn
and in appearance closer to a bull, and who is lofty in every respect
and when walking sweeps her tracks with the tip of her tail.

The fifth scene represented on the Shield of Aeneas describes Porsenna's siege of Rome and the resistance of the Romans, with the two classic exempla of Horatius Cocles and Cloelia (Verg. Aen. 8.646–51):

nec non Tarquinium eiectum Porsenna iubebat
accipere ingentique urbem obsidione premebat;
Aeneadae in ferrum pro libertate ruebant.
illum indignanti similem similemque minanti
aspiceres, pontem auderet quia uellere Cocles 650
et fluuium uinclis innaret Cloelia ruptis.

Many attempts have been made to define the precise philosophical outlook of Ovid's account of cosmogony from the beginning of the Metamorphoses, while numerous different and interconnected influences have been identified including Homer, Hesiod, Empedocles, Apollonius Rhodius, Lucretius and Virgil. This has led some scholars to conclude that Ovid's cosmogony is simply eclectic, a magpie collection of various poetic and philosophical snippets haphazardly jumbled together, and with no significant philosophical dimension whatsoever. A more constructive approach could see Ovid's synthesis of many of the major cosmogonic works in the Graeco-Roman tradition as an attempt to match textually his all-encompassing history of the universe that purports to stretch from the first beginnings of the world up to the present day (Met. 1.3−4). Furthermore, if the beginning of the Metamorphoses is designed to be both cosmologically and intertextually all-encompassing, it is surprising that the influence of arguably the major philosophical work on cosmogony from the ancient world, Plato's Timaeus, remains to be evaluated.

The Culex is now widely recognized as a piece of post-Ovidian, possibly Tiberian, pseudo-juvenilia written by an author impersonating the young Virgil, although it was attached to Virgil's name already in the first century c.e., being identified as Virgilian by Statius, Suetonius and Martial. Dedicated to the young Octavian (Octaui in line 1), the poem seems to fill a biographical gap in Virgil's career before his composition of the Eclogues. It is introduced as a ludus, which Irene Peirano suggests may openly refer to ‘the act of impersonating Virgil’, and, like many of the poems in the Appendix Vergiliana, it seems to have a parodic intent. The Culex has been interpreted as a parody of neoteric style and the epyllion, as mock-epic, as Virgil parody (John Henderson called it a ‘spoof Aeneid in bucolic drag’), as pointed Augustan satire, as mock Ovidian ‘Weltgedicht’ and as just very bad poetry (Housman's ‘stutterer’). Glenn Most has observed that the poem's three ‘acts’ structurally recapitulate Virgil's three major works in chronological succession. Little attention, however, has been paid to the Culex's final lines, which contain a catalogue of flowers the pastor places on the gnat's tomb. Recent scholarship has reintroduced an older interpretation of the gnat's tomb as a political allegory of Augustus’ Mausoleum; in this paper I suggest instead that the tomb and its flowers serve a closural and metapoetic function at the end of the poem.

As he draws toward the conclusion of a lengthy string of Roman exempla on the topic of moderatio, a virtue highly regarded by the reigning Emperor Tiberius, Valerius introduces a brief discussion on the challenges he faces in producing the kind of account he wants to create. Unfortunately, for a rare passage in which Valerius speaks about his own work, the text is uncertain: various problems have been identified and different solutions have been proposed, but not, I will argue, ones that satisfactorily recognize the prominence of Valerius’ authorial role here or understand his meaning or pay appropriate attention to the immediate context in which he makes his remarks. I propose a new emendation which helps clarify that the primary challenge concerns the scale and the style of coverage of individual exempla required by the Facta et dicta memorabilia. I will show that Valerius deliberately alludes to his own programmatic remarks in the work's preface, which then illuminate his purpose and practice, both broadly in relation to his mission to record and praise outstanding individuals and more narrowly in providing a transition to a specific exemplum.

Columella invites his readers to plant different flowers, including violets—which will be the main focus of the following discussion (10.94–102):

uerum ubi iam puro discrimine pectita tellus
deposito squalore nitens sua semina poscet, 95
pangite tunc uarios, terrestria sidera, flores:
candida leucoia et flauentia lumina caltae,
narcissique comas et hiantis saeua leonis
ora feri, calathisque uirentia lilia canis,
necnon uel niueos uel caeruleos hyacinthos. 100
tum quae pallet humi, quae frondes purpurat auro,
ponatur uiola, et nimium rosa plena pudoris.

tum quae pallet humi, quae frondes purpurat auro,
ponatur uiola, et nimium rosa plena pudoris.

The so-called Latin Iliad, the main source for the knowledge of the Greek epic poem in the Latin West during the Middle Ages, is a hexametric poetic summary (epitome) of Homer's Iliad likely dating from the Age of Nero, which reduces the 15,693 lines of the original to a mere 1,070 lines (6.8%).

The Bellum ciuile has been the subject of three major editions in the past thirty years, attributable to D.R. Shackleton Bailey, R. Badalì and G. Luck. The existence of these three works highlights the resurgence of sustained interest surrounding Lucan as of the 1970s, with the publication of two significant works, Lucan: An Introduction by F. Ahl and the collective volume of Entretiens à la fondation Hardt, yet it also demonstrates the difficulty in establishing the text of the Pharsalia.

Pompey does not accept defeat at Pharsalus. Rather, in an effort to gain support from powers beyond Rome, he makes for Egypt and, unbeknownst to him, his decapitation. As narrated in Lucan's Bellum ciuile, after deliberating in Cilicia with his senatorial advisers (8.259–455), Pompey stops at the island of Cyprus (8.456–9):

tum Cilicum liquere solum Cyproque citatas
immisere rates, nullas cui praetulit aras
undae diua memor Paphiae, si numina nasci
credimus aut quemquam fas est coepisse deorum.

In sections 4.80 and 4.81 of the Historia Naturalis, Pliny the Elder describes the peoples living beyond the Danube River in his own day in the later first century c.e.:

In 2016 Justin Stover published an important editio princeps of a fragmentarily preserved text that was originally discovered by Raymond Klibansky in the first half of the twentieth century: a kind of Summarium librorum Platonis which Klibansky took as a Latin translation of a lost Greek original, whereas Stover argues it was written by Apuleius, namely as the third book of his De Platone. The following notes deal primarily with details pertaining to the constitution of the text, but I will start with one remark on a detail of Stover's translation and close with a discussion concerning the alleged medieval reception of the so-called ‘New Apuleius’. Chapters, pages, Latin text, apparatus criticus entries, and translations are quoted according to Stover's edition; all bold highlights are mine, as are all translations from works other than the ‘New Apuleius’ if not indicated otherwise.

When dealing with manuscripts transmitting otherwise unknown ancient texts and without a subscriptio, the work of a philologist and literary critic becomes both more difficult and more engrossing. Definitive proof is impossible; at the end there can only be a hypothesis. When dealing with a unique grammatical text, such a hypothesis becomes even more delicate because of the standardization of ancient grammar. But it can happen that, behind crystallized theoretical argumentation and apparently canonical formulas, interstices can be explored that lead to unforeseen possibilities, more exciting—and even more suitable—than those that have already emerged.

Two well-known ancient witnesses report that Aristophanes of Byzantium was responsible for the arrangement of Pindar's poems into seventeen book-rolls according to lyric genres (dithyrambs, hymns, etc.). These witnesses form fr. 381 in the edition of Aristophanes’ fragments by W.J. Slater (Aristophanis Byzantii fragmenta [Berlin and New York, 1986]):

A much-debated question is whether the order of the poems attested by the papyrus can be credited to Aristophanes, since an ordering principle is apparently not to be found in the list transmitted by it. Moreover, there are some disagreements with the list of Pindar's works transmitted by the Vita Ambrosiana, which is generally deemed the most authoritative catalogue of the poet's corpus, on account of its well-recognized criterion of classification: the poems are divided between those for gods (from hymnoi to hyporchēmata) and those for men (from enkōmia to epinikia), and both of these categories of songs are arranged from the most general (respectively, the hymns and the enkōmia) to the most specific (the remaining genres). This catalogue has been thought to reproduce the order established by Aristophanes in his edition of Pindar.

An influential position in the scholarship on Longus is that the narrator of Daphnis and Chloe is dissociated from, and ironized by, the author. Two articles by John Morgan, in particular, have propounded this interpretation. Morgan argues that Longus’ narrator relates the story with simplicity and naivety, and in ignorance of the more complex subtleties to which only Longus and the more discerning reader have access: ‘Daphnis and Chloe is told by its narrator as if it were a simpler and more conventional story than it really is, and invites its reader to read it in the same way. One way to describe this textual duplicity is to think in terms of a surface “narrator's text” and a deeper “author's text”. We can conceive the narrator, as established by the prologue, as a distorting and simplifying lens between the story and us. As readers we effectively have the choice of accepting what we see through the lens (that is the “narrator's text” as the “narrator's narratee”) or of correcting it and reading around the narrator (that is reading the “author's text” as the “author's narratee”).’ This type of separation of author and narrator is identifiable in Petronius’ Satyrica, in which the first-person narrator Encolpius who tells his story in hindsight is ridiculed and his narration destabilized by the hidden author who ‘is also listening, along with the reader, to Encolpius’ narrative—and along with the reader is smiling at it’.

Greek had held an important place in Roman society and culture since the Late Republican period, and educated Romans were expected to be bilingual and well versed in both Greek and Latin literature. The Roman school ‘curriculum’ was based on Hellenistic educational culture, and in the De grammaticis et rhetoribus Suetonius says that the earliest teachers in Rome, Livius and Ennius, were ‘poets and half Greeks’ (poetae et semigraeci), who taught both Latin and Greek ‘publicly and privately’ (domi forisque docuisse) and ‘merely clarified the meaning of Greek authors or gave exemplary readings from their own Latin compositions’ (nihil amplius quam Graecos interpretabantur aut si quid ipsi Latine composuissent praelegebant, Gram. et rhet. 1–2). Cicero, the Latin neoteric poets and Horace are obvious examples of bilingual educated Roman aristocrats, but also throughout the Imperial period a properly educated Roman would be learned in utraque lingua. The place of Greek in Quintilian's Institutio Oratoria reveals the importance and prevalence of Greek in Roman education and literature in the late first century a.d. Quintilian argues that children should learn both Greek and Latin but that it is best to begin with Greek. Famously, in the second century a.d. the Roman author Apuleius gave speeches in Greek to audiences in Carthage, and in his Apologia mocked his accusers for their ignorance of Greek.

By the mid fourth century c.e., violently divergent Christian communities had developed across the Roman empire: Nicene or Homoousian (God and Jesus ‘are of the same substance’), Homoiousian (‘are of similar substance’), Homoian (Jesus is ‘like’ God), Anomoean or Heterousian (God and Jesus ‘are of different substance’) and others. The first emperor to be a strong supporter of traditional cult in more than a generation, Julian ruled over an empire of numerous religious groups that were often at variance with one another, both extra- and intra-communally, and how all of these should be treated was one of the chief problems pressing the emperor upon his accession in late 361. Julian's religious thought and action during his short sole reign (3 November 361 to 26 June 363) has long exercised scholars, its impact on Christians and Christianity in particular. To be sure, Julian tended to be hostile to Christians and Christianity, but he was by no means hostile to all, and he even favoured some Christians, some of whom he counted among his friends and officials. The emperor's Christian policy thus was complicated. One of the best examples of this complexity is Julian's epistle to the Heterousian Christian leader Aetius (Ep. 15 Wright = 46 Bidez). In a shorter note published in this journal, Pierre-Louis Malosse focussed his attention on Julian's letter to Aetius, which dates to early 362 and which is the only such epistle to this future bishop that is extant. As transmitted, Julian's missive to Aetius is critical for the light it helps to shed on the emperor's views and treatments of Christians at the outset of his sole reign, and my conclusions on this missive differ from those of Malosse.

Scholars of the ancient world are increasingly recognizing the importance of ancient collections for our understanding of antiquity. In his afterword to Museum Archetypes and Collecting in the Ancient World (2015), Jaś Elsner argues that much of our knowledge of antiquity is based on collections assembled within the ancient world, and that the study of these collections provides us with a unique opportunity to uncover the mentalities of the people whom they surrounded. Pointing out that they ‘packaged the past and the present for its own needs, much as modern museums do now’, Elsner argues that ancient collections may be approached as ‘significant engine[s] for social and cultural self-definition’.

In his Res Gestae, the historian Ammianus Marcellinus describes the Egyptian city of Thebes and the obelisks that can be found there. There is an unusual passage in which he describes hieroglyphic writings. He goes on to show, through two examples, how hieroglyphs might seem bizarre, but in fact contain their own logic which can be explained (Amm. Marc. 17.4.10–11, translation mine):

45 τόλμᾳ γὰρ εἰκώϲ
θυμὸν ἐριβρεμετᾶν θηρῶν λεόντων
ἐν πόνῳ, μῆτιν δ᾽ ἀλώπηξ,
αἰετοῦ ἅ τ᾽ ἀναπιτναμένα ῥόμβον ἴϲχει·
χρὴ δὲ πᾶν ἔρδοντ᾽ ἀμαυρῶϲαι τὸν ἐχθρόν.

εἰ δέ τιϲ ὄλβον ἔχων μορφᾷ παραμεύϲεται ἄλλουϲ,
ἔν τ᾽ ἀέθλοιϲιν ἀριϲτεύων ἐπέδειξεν βίαν,
θνατὰ μεμνάϲθω περιϲτέλλων μέλη, 15
καὶ τελευτὰν ἁπάντων γᾶν ἐπιεϲϲόμενοϲ.
ἐν λόγοιϲ δ᾽ ἀϲτῶν ἀγαθοῖϲί νιν αἰνεῖϲθαι χρεὼν
καὶ μελιγδούποιϲι δαιδαλθέντα μελίζεν ἀοιδαῖϲ.