The sic of this passage is ordinarily taken as meaning, ‘on this condition,’ viz. the condition implied in reddas and serues. But du Mesnil (Bremer Rundschau, 1885, No. 258) urged that this interpretation was illogical. The fulfilment of the condition implied in reddas involves in itself the realization of the wish expressed in regat, and so makes that wish unnecessary. To this objection two answers have been made. Schütz expresses the opinion that the prayer is for the perpetual enjoyment of the favourable conditions enumerated in verses 1–4. But apart from the unnaturalness of this explanation, it involves the north-west wind as the perpetual attendant of the vessel. This would prevent its easy return to Italy. The other answer is that such ‘matter of fact’ criticism should not be applied to poetry. But to the minds of many (myself among them) this seems a mere evasion of the question at issue. Most students of Horace, I venture to say, are far from satisfied with the traditional interpretation of the passage.

In the ninth elegy of his third book Propertius withstands the encouragements of Maecenas, who has urged him to attempt heroic themes.

He declares himself unequal and unsuited to the task: different minds have different aptitudes; Lysippus excels in one craft, Calamis in another; some race afoot and some in chariots;

So far his weapons of defence are taken from a common armoury; but in the next verses he develops the argumentum ad hominem which was foreshadowed in ‘eques’ and ‘intra fortunam qui cupis esse tuam.’ Such promptings, says he, come strangely from Maecenas, whose own discreetness and self-repression will be famous in history, and whom he is resolved, so far as in him lies, to imitate.

Every one who has used Dr. Meusel's excellent edition of Caesar's Bellum Ciuile will welcome the first volume, comprising Commentaries I.–IV., of his final edition of the Bellum Gallicum. Nominally, each of the two books is a revision of the work of other men,–in the former case of Kraner and Hofmann, in the latter of Kraner and Dittenberger; really each, especially the latter, contains the fruit of so much independent research that the personalities of the older editors are obscured. That part of the joint work of Kraner and Dittenberger which corresponds with the revision consisted of 199 pages ; the revision extends to 464. As Meusel remarks in the Preface, it is no longer intended for the use of schools, but of teachers and classical scholars. The historical introduction and the section on the Roman army, which retain much of Kraner's work, have been carefully retouched; many of the footnotes have been corrected or rewritten; many, both on linguistic points and on the subject-matter, have been added.

The first excitement consequent upon the discovery of an ancient manuscript generally leads to an exaggeration of its importance. This was especially the case with the Veronese Palimpsest, first, because it is the only MS. of the first decade of Livy earlier than the ninth century, and secondly, because it is the only extant MS. for that part of Livy, which is not derived from the Nicomachian recension. Mommsen was naturally prejudiced in favour of the Veronese Palimpsest, which he collated and published, and, when the two families of MSS. differ from one another, he usually decides for the Palimpsest. He used only MPL for his comparison, which is consequently very inadequate. It is possible now, however, with our wider and moreaccurate knowledge of the Nicomachian MSS.,thanks to the patient research of Professor Flamstead Walters and Dr. Conway, more justly to estimate the importance of the Veronese Palimpsest in Livy's first decade.

The study of Hellenistic Greek, or of the Κοινή, which has flourished increasingly since the beginning of the present century, has brought Modern Greek more and more within the view of classical philologists. As I have insisted on utilizing Modern Greek for Hellenistic philology for about twenty years, I may claim some credit if a knowledge of Modern Greek is now admitted to be indispensable to Hellenistic studies; but philologists only reluctantly acknowledge this new demand, and hesitate to acquire as full an acquaintance with Modern Greek as the study of the Κοιή demands.

Reading the Rhesus again the other day, I was struck by something strange in the rhythm of its trimeters. Whatever this was, it seemed to have nothing to do with metrical punctuation (caesura, diaeresis, and like); nor with the use of trisyllabic feet, though on that I shall have something to say. By listening hard I found a clue. The Rhesus is very spondaic at the beginning and the middle of the line.

When this was already in print, I came across an article on ‘Porsons Gesetz’ by K. Witte in Hermes xlix. (1914), pp. 229–245, which led me to another article with the same title by J. Krái in Sitzungsberichte der königlböhmischen Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften, Klasse für Philosophic usw., Jahrgang 1909, ix. Král reckons the percentage of spondees in the fifth foot of the tragic trimeter at 43·4, and he has forestalled me in finding therein a partial explanation of Porson's Law. This suggestion is curtly dismissed by Witte, who sees in the predominance of iambs not a cause but a consequence of the Law.

The opinion has been expressed frequently of late, notably by Professor Mackail and Miss Stawell, that the Odyssey may well be the work of the advanced years of the Homer of the Iliad. Miss Stawell remarks that one of an alert mind must feel that the Odyssey is the poem of an older man—one who has conceived and written a poem before. She suggests that that poem may have been the Iliad. So Professor Mackail argues that a “different mind may come to a poet with the lapse of years and with fresh experiences,” and that “the poet who produced the Iliad in the early prime of his life was a poet capable of the artistic and poetical change that is felt in the Odyssey, among new surroundings, with an altered view of life, with an imaginative ardour burning less strongly and with increased constructional mastery.”