larger poems, we seem to find ground for dissent from the opinion of several otherwise weighty critics of Catullus, that they were the earlier exercises of his poetic career—a subject upon which, as there is the scantiest inkling in either direction, it is admissible to take the negative view. As a work of art, no doubt the "Nuptials of Peleus and Thetis" are damaged by the introduction of the episode of Ariadne's desertion within the main poem—an offence obviously against strict epic unity. But it is not by any means sure that this is so much a sign of youthful work as of an independence consistent with poetic fancy, and certainly not amenable to the stigma of Alexandrinism, which must be en règle, if anything. It is with this largest, and in many respects finest, sample of Catullus's epic capacity, that we propose to deal at greatest length, reserving space for a glance or two at the "Atys" and the "Hair of Berenice." "The whole poem" (Peleus and Thetis), to quote Mr Sellar once more, "is pervaded with that calm light of strange loveliness which spreads over the unawakened world in the early sunrise of a summer day." If here and there a suspicion of over-wrought imagery and description carries back the mind to a remembrance of the poet's model, it must be allowed that, for the most part, this poem excels in variety, in pictorial effects, in force of fancy, and clever sustentation of the interest. It begins with the day on which, in the hoar distance of mythic ages, the Pelion-born Argo was first launched and manned, and the first sailor of all ever burst on the realm of Amphitrite—a statement which we must not
