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Updated: June 21, 2025
The lower class of the population, Ovid tells us, streamed out to the "festum geniale" of Anna, and spent the whole day in the Campus Martius, lying about in pairs of men and women, indulging in drinking and all kinds of revelry. Some lay in the open; some constructed tents, or rude huts of boughs, stretching their togas over them for shelter.
Null answered stiffly, "I am in consultation with Doctor Benjulia; and I expect him to-day." The reply startled her. "Dr. Benjulia?" she repeated. "The greatest man we have!" Mr. Null asserted in his most positive manner. She silently determined to wait until Doctor Benjulia arrived. "What is the last news of Mr. Ovid?" she said to him, after an interval of consideration.
It was a great disadvantage that they could not control the choice of the travelling companions, but he would go at once and see if he could exercise any influence. The packing consumed several hours. This unemotional activity would have strengthened Fabia, had it not had a completely unnerving effect on Ovid.
After a pause produced, as her next words implied, by an effort of memory she suddenly took Carmina into her confidence. "Don't tell!" she began. "I saw another man look like Ovid." "When, dear?" Carmina asked meaning, at what past date. "When his face was close to yours," Zo answered meaning, under what recent circumstances.
"Nay," said the Dominie, again abstracted, "the metaphor is not just. `Life's dull stream. `Lethe tacitus amnis, as Lucan hath it; but the stream of life flows ay, flows rapidly even in my veins. Doth not the heart throb and beat yea, strongly peradventure too forcibly against my better judgment? `Confiteor misere molle cor esse mihi, as Ovid saith. Yet must it not prevail!
"Pardon me," Ovid interposed, "what is there to agitate my mother in this?" Mr. Mool made his apologies for not getting sooner to the point, with the readiest good-will. "Professional habit, Mr. Ovid," he explained. "We are apt to be wordy paid, in fact, at so much a folio, for so many words! and we like to clear the ground first.
The elegy in which they occur is certainly not by Tibullus, and may well be the work of some contemporary of Ovid. They point to the battle of Mutina, 43 B.C., in which Hirtius and Pansa lost their lives. The poet's death is fixed to 19 B.C. by the epigram of Domitius just quoted. Tibullus was a Roman knight, and inherited a large fortune.
Ovid represents Pythagoras addressing his disciples in these words: "Souls never die, but always on quitting one abode pass to another. I myself can remember that in the time of the Trojan war I was Euphorbus, the son of Panthus, and fell by the spear of Menelaus. Lately being in the temple of Juno, at Argos, I recognized my shield hung up there among the trophies.
McAllister took him on his knee and gravely began to entertain him with a story, for which kindness Jacky kicked his shins and struggled to get away; so the worthy man smiled sadly, and let him go, remarking that Ovid himself would be puzzled to metamorphose him into a good boy this in an undertone, of course. Hector Macdonald was somewhat sanguine and irascible in temper.
"Virgil's shepherds are too well read in the philosophy of Epicurus and of Plato"; "there is a kind of rusticity in all those pompous verses, somewhat of a holiday shepherd strutting in his country buskins"; "Theocritus is softer than Ovid, he touches the passions more delicately, and performs all this out of his own fund, without diving into the arts and sciences for a supply.
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