Acting as a priest, the Trojan Helenus, now by a favourable reverse of fortunes the ruler of Achilles’s former kingdom, makes a curious prophecy that centres on a white sow with thirty piglets. Perhaps he had covered his head to officiate at the sacrifice, as was the later Roman custom. The Roman shown here is the Emperor Augustus, dressed as the Pontifex Maximus (High Priest). Hear the poem in Latin with an English translation here.

Are the Olympian Gods – if they exist – too remote to take an interest in human affairs, as the followers of the Philosopher Epicurus thought? An awe-inspiring natural event causes Horace to think again about his beliefs. Hear Horace’s Latin and follow in English here.

In this wall painting from Herculaneum, Zeus and Hera celebrate their marriage; see photo credits for licensing details.

Horace’s second Ode reflects on the world of Rome turned upside down by civil war and restored to an even keel by the Emperor Augustus. Hear Horace’s Latin performed and follow in translation here; see the illustrated blog post here.

Today’s post completes Pantheon Poets’ set of extracts from Virgil’s Georgics. See and hear Virgil’s story of Aristaeus and his bees here, and access the full set of Georgics extracts here.

Where and how did we get hold of Catullus? There are clues in this photo of the opening page of the Oxford text.

On the right, the footnotes above the line give details of ancient writers who quoted from the two poems above. There are a lot, which is useful for textual scholars and shows how well-known Catullus was in antiquity. The notes below the line are about places where the various manuscripts that we depend on for our text of Catullus have wording which differs from that chosen by the editor for the Oxford text. There are a lot of these too, considering that they deal with only thirteen lines of poetry, and this implies that the strength of the manuscript evidence is not particularly great. That is borne out by the left-hand page, which describes the manuscript evidence itself. This amounts to four manuscript copies of Catullus made as late as the fourteenth century. They all lead back to one manuscript, known as V – for Verona, because it existed there around the end of the first millennium. That manuscript was lost centuries ago, but it is the one and only known line of transmission through which Catullus, copied and re-copied many times with varying degrees of accuracy, survived from antiquity. If the Verona manuscript had been lost before, rather than after, being copied, we would have found ourselves with no complete Catullus poems except one (no. 62, a wedding-hymn, which survived separately in an anthology), in other words, without Lesbia and her sparrow and her kisses. It is a chilling thought.