The whole description of the bees in Book IV. derives its chief interest from the ethical lessons which it conveys of thrift (4. 155), of social order (4. 158 seq.), of loyalty (4. 210 seq.), of individual self-sacrifice for the good of the community (4. 204-9). It suggests even deeper thoughts as to the nature of instinct or intelligence (4. 219 seq.), and the possible existence throughout the universe of one all-extending, all-preserving Soul,' 1 while, perhaps, nowhere are humour and pathos so wonderfully blended as in the lines which close the 'Battle of the Bees' hi motus animorum atque haec certamina tanta (iii) Further, to Virgil nature is not a dead thing but living and sentient. He constantly speaks of things as possessing almost human feeling. The crops and the fields rejoice' (1. 10 n.); the ploughlands 'mourn for the tillers they have lost (1. 507 n.); they 'feel' heat and cold (1. 48 sensit, cf. 1. 136 sensere), as trees 'feel' their strength (2. 426); they have 'characters (ingeniis 2. 177), and can be awkward' (difficiles) and 'churlish' (maligni) or 'kind' (facilem) and 'patient' (patientem 2. 223); the earth shows 'gratitude' (1.83) and is most righteous' (iustissima 2. 460); Mysia is 'proud' and Gargarus 'astonished' at its own productiveness (1. 102; cf. 2. 82). So, too, the moon 'blushes' (1. 431); the south wind plans' mischief (1. 462); 1 Pope Essay on Man 3. 22. 2 The more I read these lines, the less I can believe that a poet so sensitive as Virgil could possibly have written them without being conscious of the double meaning they so obviously admit of. the sun 'feels pity' (1. 466). Numberless instances might be collected, but it is sufficient to note especially the way in which trees in Book II. are almost regularly spoken of as sentient. This is particularly the case in such a beautiful line as 2. 23 hic plantas tenero abscindens de corpore matrum, but observe also (2. 52) how they put off their wild disposition' and learn arts' submissively; how they ‘pluck up spirit' when watered (2. 350); how in ‘early youth' they need kindness (2. 362) and protection (2. 372) while the leaf is 'tender and inexperienced in troubles,' but a firm hand when they wax wanton in their strength (2. 367-70). (iv) Animals throughout are endowed with human feelings. Crows enjoy an evening with their children. (1. 413), and the ant exhibits thrift and industry (1. 186); the tiny mouse rivals the architecture of man - he lays the foundation of his houses and builds his barns.' In Book III. the poet attributes 'pride,' 'vexation' (3. 102), and many other similar qualities to horses; but we are such a horse-loving people that his language may perhaps strike us as comparatively cold, and it is necessary to turn to the lines (3. 225-28) in which he depicts the defeated bull leaving his ancient realm' in order to grasp his strong sympathy with animals, a sympathy which also comes out in the beautiful epithet meritos (2. 575) applied to oxen, the touching question quid labor aut benefacta iuvant? (3. 525), and above all in the passage 3. 517, which has been already referred to, but which is incomparable and could only have been written by a man to whom the patient labouring ox is a genuine object of affection.1 The human interest of the account of bees has been mentioned, but notice too the way in which they enjoy an evening at home after a day in the fields (4. 55), and a gossip on the door-step before going to bed (4. 183), and mark the sad sense of universal suffering which breathes in such lines as 4. 251, 252 si vero, quoniam casus apibus quoque nostros or finally the pathos, not untouched with humour,2 of 4. 255 tum corpora luce carentum exportant tectis et tristia funera ducunt. 1 Virgil is clearly much less in sympathy with horses than with cattle. His description of the war-horse is imposing, a young colt catches his artistic eye (3.75) and he marks its pleasure in having its neck patted (3. 185), while the dying racer suggests a sad contrast with its former glories (3. 479); but it is cattle that he really understands and really loves. In this he resembles the French peasant, see notes on 3. 517 and Pierre Dupont's (1821-1870) popular song 'Les Bœufs' J'ai deux grands bœufs dans mon étable, Deux grands bœufs blancs, marqués de roux ; La charrue est en bois d'érable, L'aiguillon en branche de houx. C'est par leur soin qu'on voit la plaine Verte l'hiver, jaune l'été. Ils gagnent dans une semaine Plus d'argent qu'ils ne m'ont coûté. S'il me fallait les vendre, J'aimerais mieux me pendre. 2 The sense of humour, though the humour is quiet, restrained, and sometimes almost melancholy, is clearly exhibited in some passages of the Georgics. The idea of bees conducting a funeral procession has a certain charm of incongruity about it which would have suited ་ Those, however, who wish fully to appreciate the skill exhibited in the Georgics should read the authors from whom the poet has largely borrowed his facts. They should read some hundred lines of Aratus or a few chapters of Theophrastus, they should look through Cato and Varro (though these two writers have much that is very curious and original), and then turn to Virgil. They must not, of course, turn to the passages in which he gives the rein to his own imagination, but to those in which he reproduces the practical rules or statements of his authorities, for it is in these that his technical excellence is best seen. As these passages are rarely noted it is worth while to call attention to two. The lines 2.9-34, which describe Charles Lamb, and that this incongruity was intentional will be acknowledged by any one who will turn to Aen. 4. 402 and study the slow and stately spondees in which Virgil describes a procession of ants it nigrum campis agmen, the phrase being borrowed from Ennius, who used it in describing elephants, and being in striking contrast with the tragic character of the context. It is this same sense of incongruity which is purposely aroused when the young bees are called parvos Quirites (4. 402), or the work of the hive compared to the toil of the gigantic Cyclopes in their Aetnean smithy (4. 170 seq.)—a passage which has given rise to much tedious discussion as to the justice of the comparison. The description of the mouse (1. 181) is clearly humorous; the imitation of a frog's croak (1. 378) is certainly intended to raise a smile and the description of the sea-birds bathing (1. 383—87) to amuse, while the pictures of a 'moping owl' (note nequiquam) in 1. 402, 403 and still more of a raven (1. 388, 389) are perhaps not strictly humorous, but call up images which are the reverse of gloomy. In 2. 246 the description of a man making wry faces is the one instance of broad humour in the Georgics. See too the description of wines referred to in the next paragraph. The how trees grow or are cultivated, are based entirely on Theophrastus (Hist. Plant. 2. 1). The subject is almost impossible. What is any one to do with a chapter which begins thus—αἱ γενέσεις τῶν δένδρων καὶ ὅλως τῶν φυτῶν ἢ αὐτόμαται ἢ ἀπὸ σπέρματος ἢ ἀπὸ ῥίζης ἢ ἀπὸ παρασπάδος κ.τ.λ. ? Yet it is all reproduced in Virgil and by a series of minute touches transmuted into poetry. Then, too, what could be more dreary than a list of vines ? Yet Virgil charms it into verse. lines 2.88-109 are of surpassing excellence in their workmanship. The cleverness alone with which he passes from one sort of vine to another so as to conceal the appearance of a list is extraordinary, while his description of the 'subtle' Lagean and of the respectful behaviour even of 'royal Phaneus' in the presence of a nobler vintage, and his admonition to the Rhaetic vine not to lose its head with praise are perfect in their curiosa felicitas. So, too, is the delicate politeness with which he addresses the two wines which he leaves till last on his list; he apologises to them as if they were two distinguished friends who might possibly think they had been slighted; he cannot imagine that he could have passed them over.' Only an artist in words could have written two such lines, and the whole section deserves close study. Lastly, the extreme care and skill which the work exhibits may be judged by the exquisite finish of the rhythm. Professor Sellar states that in rhythmical movement the poem exhibits the highest perfection of which Latin verse is capable, and the statement is absolutely true. The examination of the following lines will sufficiently illustrate this, though, of course, |