At the end of the singing contest of Thyrsis and Corydon in the seventh Eclogue, the narrator Meliboeus summarizes its result in the poem's last lines (69–70):

In one of his latest papers, published the year before his death, Sir Ronald Syme surveyed the modern scholarly literature on ‘The date of Justin and the discovery of Trogus’ and argued that Justin's abbreviated version of the Historiae Philippicae of the Augustanhistorian PompeiusTrogus (not an epitome in the strict sense of that word) was composed in the later fourth century, specifically in ‘the vicinity of 390’ not in the Antonine or Severan period, as so many have contended. Syme's central argument was lexicographical: he drew attention to a number of words in Justin's vocabulary which point to a date in the fourth century rather than the second or third.

The investigations of Fletcher and Owens have documented the breadth of Ammianus’ familiarity with Latin literature; however, neither scholar was able to demonstrate a debt to Pliny the Younger. At the same time Alan Cameron has shown that in the later fourth century the Letters of Pliny enjoyed a certain vogue. The issue of Ammianus’ knowledge of Pliny is discussed by Cameron on two occasions. The evidence he cites inclines him to the duly circumspect view that Ammianus may perhaps have been familiar with Pliny's Letters after all. The aim of the present note is to argue that the grounds which have so far been adduced for entertaining such a possibility would in fact appear to be inadmissible.

Horace had good reason to know these lines (quoted by Diodorus Siculus 8.21) since they come from the foundation oracle of one of his favourite places, Tarentum, delivered to the founder Phalanthus whom Horace mentions in Odes 2.6.11–12, ‘regnata petam Laconi | rura Phalantho’. It is a regular feature of such oracles that, however absurd and impossible they may seem, they will be fulfilled in a quite unexpected way.

R. G. Austin's translation of these famous imprecations of Dido's seems to me perfectly representative, ‘and then do you, my Tyrians, hound with hate and hate again all his stock and all his race to be’. I see no strong arguments against such an interpretation of this sentence, but I think that an alternative—and very different—understanding of these words is likely.

The importance of the role of the empress Eusebia1 in the watershed years (354–5) of the life of Julian is not in question. The narrative runs as follows. When Julian was summoned to Milan in 354 to the court of his Christian cousin Constantius (337–61) in the aftermath of the execution of his half-brother Gallus for treason and was questioned about his loyalty to the emperor, it was the empress who secured an audience for him with the emperor and who effected his liberation in 355. His subsequent residency at Athens was also the suggestion of the empress. Not much later in the same year, when Julian was again recalled to the court at Milan to be appointed Caesar on 6 November, the empress supported his promotion, if not indeed being the very proponent of it. Thus began Julian's imperial career, which led him to succeed Constantius as emperor in 361.

Servius was surely not the first to show discomfort with Vergil's choice of the word violaverit. Observing that the simile in lines 67–8 derives from Homer (Il. 4.141), he seems to be apologizing for Vergil when he explains that the poet's violaverit translates Homer's νι⋯νη. And discomfort there should be. The notion of ‘tainting, spoiling, damaging, defiling’ that violare should carry seems out of place both for the ivory-image and for the picture of the beautiful girl. Modern commentators have been no less troubled than Servius. Unwilling, however, to see Vergil as blindly enslaved to Homer, they have offered another explanation: violare here is tied to the violentia of her lover Turnus. ‘Vergil connects the violentia of Turnus with the staining of the ivory in the simile used to describe Lavinia's blush.’ should like to add a third explanation for Vergil's choice of violare.

The confusion of the MSS is well justified; something has gone very wrong here. Even if ‘horrendis... profundis’ could be plausibly construed, the repetition ‘horrendis... horrendi’ is impossibly clumsy, and it seems obvious that one or the other does not belong here. I suggest that the interloper is the ‘horrendis’ of line 286, which probably derives from a simple eye-skip to ‘;horrendi.sociis’ below. The likely corollary is that the correct reading at the end of the line is ‘profundi’, later altered in an attempt to accommodate the intrusive ‘horrendis’. This approach would seem to be confirmed by the frequency of the clausula ‘stagna profundi’ in the Latin hexameter (cf. Lucan 2.571, 8.853, 9.305, Sil. 7.282, 378, 10.590, Avien. Arat. 991, Claud. 8.596, Coripp. Ioh. 6.23).

The several verbal responsions of this couplet to the preceding one are clear, and as mando produces mandata, so testor derives, I think, from testis. Read me teste ‘Idaei…’; ‘with me as witness…’. This reading adds greatly to the humour of the situation, where the hen is charged, in his presence, with caring for the fox. For testis as a witness to the audible (rather than the visible) cf. (e.g.) fors me sermoni testem dedit (Am. 1.8.21).

In Dio we first encounter Caligula in connection with the crimen maiestatis in the course of 59.1–5. This forms an introduction to Caligula and, at the same time, looks forward to some of the changes which occurred in his character and behaviour as the reign progressed.

The text is taken from the edition of D. E. Hill, Mnemosyne Supplement 79 (Leiden, 1983). The following works are referred to by author's surname only: H. W. Garrod, P. Papini Stati Thebais et Achilleis (Oxford, 1906); L. Håkanson, Statins Thebaid (Lund, 1973); A. Klotz, P. Papini Stati Thebais (Leipzig 1908; revised edn by T. C. Klinnert, 1973); R. Kühner, C. Stegmann, and A. Thierfelder, Ausführliche Grammatik der lateinischen Sprache (Leverkusen, 1955; 2 vols.); R. Lesueur, Stace Thébaïde (Paris, 1990, 1991, 1994; 3 vols.); J. H. Mozley, Statius (Loeb edition, London, 1928; 2 vols.); E. C. Woodcock, A New Latin Syntax (London, 1959).

The relative and absolute chronology of Middle Platonic philosophy is often uncertain, causing problems in connecting a philosopher either to other philosophers or to the surrounding culture.

The definition here ascribed to Philo is entirely in line with what we know of Philo from else where: Alex. Aphr. in APr. 184.6–10; Simp, in Cat. 195.33–196.5; Boethius, in de Int. 234.10–15. The same is not true of the definition here ascribed to Diodorus. For Diodorus, we are told elsewhere, defined the possible as that which either is or will be so: Cic. Fat. 13, 17; Plu. de Stoic rep. 1055d-e; Alex. Aphr. in APr. 183.42–184.5; Boethius, in de Int. 234.22–4,412.16–7. Something has therefore got garbled.