Heroides 11 has long enjoyed a favourable reputation among critics, largely because Ovid appears to show a tactful restraint in his description of Canace's last moments and to refrain, for once in the Heroides, from descending into what Jacobson terms ‘nauseating mawkishness’. Despite appearances, however, Ovid's wit is not entirely extinguished in this poem, for a devastating irony accompanies the certainty of Canace's imminent death. My objective is to demonstrate the nature of this irony by adopting a methodological (...) approach which owes much to Kennedy's analysis of Heroides 1 in the light of the later books of the Odyssey. Kennedy's argument – that without knowing it Penelope is about to give her letter to its intended addressee – is based on two premises which are postulated by the epistolary mode of the poem. The first is that we are to imagine Ovid's heroines writing at a specific moment within a dramatic context; the second is that they have a specific motive for writing at that moment. In Kennedy's hands, this approach assumes the privileged position of the reader of Heroides 1 who, through access to the Odyssey, is alive to the ironies which Ovid's Penelope cannot realize. I propose to establish a similarly privileged position for the reader of Heroides 11, a position from which Canace's death can be seen to be both ill-timed and unnecessary. The key to identifying the ironic circumstances of Canace's death lies in reconstructing the background to the Canace and Macareus myth and the possible precedents which Ovid drew on in his treatment of the story. The situation is more complex than in the case of Heroides 1, however, since the literary sources familiar to Ovid and his readers have, in this instance, largely been lost to us and can only be reconstructed from fragmentary evidence. (shrink)

Within the increasingly complex picture which has emerged in recent years of the manuscript tradition of Ovid's Amores the relationship of the two earliest MSS appears to remain firm: cod. P or Puteaneus of the 9th or early 10th century, which begins at Am. 1.2.51, was copied, probably directly, from the second half of the 9th-century cod. R or Regius , whose first half now ends at Am. 1.2.50. This view, which originates in S. Tafel's dissertation of 1910 and lies (...) behind the stemma constructed by E. J. Kenney for his OCT edition of 1961 , has come to be taken by Ovidian scholars to be the truth. My purpose in this first section is to show that this idea is unlikely to be the truth and, in the form in which it has most strongly been put forward, cannot be the truth. In the second section consequences for the manuscript tradition as a whole are explored. First we shall need some details. P, the slightly later manuscript, consists in all of 99 folia, of which 1–54 contain most, but not all, of the Heroides — not all, because they are in a lacunose state, a point to which we shall return in greater detail later. Foll. 55–6 are blank sheets of paper, not parchment, clearly inserted at a much later date during rebinding. (shrink)

quam dolor hie umquam spatio euanescere possit,leniat aut odium tempus et hora meum.Here “spatio” means “lapse of time” : it is illustrated by A. A. II. 113forma bonum fragile est, quantumque accedit ad annos,fit minor et spatio carpitur ipsa suo.As regards the whole couplet, besides at this place, it is found also after line 40 in all the MSS. except the Galeanus Vaticanus and Phillipps MS. There, though it fits in with the context, it is not required: here it is (...) indispensable. It should therefore be omitted from the text after line 40, where its presence is due to that species of interpolation which consisted in the insertion of other portions of a writer's work kindred in meaning, on which see Mr. Hall's Companion to Classical Texts, p. 198. (shrink)

Ovid's Tristia4.10 has in the past chiefly been considered as a source of biographical information rather than as a poem, but increasing interest in the poetry of Ovid's exile has now at last started to promote serious efforts to appreciate its literary qualities. The poem presents a formidable challenge to the critic: at first reading it seems a singularly pedestrian account of the poet's life and, although one may adduce plenty of parallels for details in its phrasing elsewhere in the (...) poetry of Ovid and the other Augustans, it is clear that Ovid's thought-processes are not to be explained solely in terms of the main stream of Greco-Roman poetic tradition. Prose biography and autobiography, rhetorical apology and eulogy, subliterary epitaphs and inscriptional lists of achievements: all these types of writing could have influenced Ovid's selection of data. (shrink)

“Ovid’s Old Age” is a sung poem written by the Polish poet and musician Jacek Kaczmarski which engages with the myth of Ovid’s exile. Kaczmarski’s works were heavily influenced both by classical culture and his experience of political emigration during the communist era. He was famed as an unofficial bard of the opposition movement, but is as yet little known to classical reception scholars. This paper presents Kaczmarski’s creative engagement with Ovid as both a deeply personal reflection on the nature (...) of exile and at the same time a universal commentary on poetry under authoritarian regimes. Our interpretation is based on a thematic analysis of the poem, including landscape, imperialism, displacement, “national” poets in exile, nostalgia, and the force of poetry. We set the reception in its social, political, and biographical context, with reference to several mediating receptions of the Ovidian exile. In Kaczmarski’s poem, the Ovidian voice helps the poet to express the trials of emigration and reveals their effect on his art. It shows how engagements with classical culture may flourish, even while the formal discipline of Classics has been undernourished. We provide a bilingual translation of “Ovid’s Old Age” to foster the understanding of migratory experiences in contemporary poetry and enrich international scholarship on the reception of Ovid with a response from communist Poland. (shrink)

Market participants continue to demand greater transparency from boards of directors, yet little is known about the effect of increased transparency on director decisions. Using a sample of practicing board members, our first experiment provides evidence that increased transparency via disclosure may license directors to make more biased decisions. Guided by rich insights provided by these directors, we examine whether considering a company’s ethical values can deter disclosure-induced licensing by activating a morality mindset. In two additional experiments, we find that (...) exposure to a code of conduct that includes an ethics component does not mitigate the licensing effects we observed; however, considering a separate, concise ethics statement does mitigate these effects. Our findings highlight important differences between the code of conduct and ethics statement for decision-making which can help organizations to mitigate adverse effects of disclosure. Implications for users of financial information and regulators are also discussed. (shrink)

Here Ovid treats the demiurge's disposition of weightless aether over the other elements. This section of the cosmogony follows one that is devoted to the sphere of aer where the creator settles the turbulent winds and other threatening meteorological phenomena. Recently Denis Feeney has suggested that Ovid's demiurge ‘does not act in a very epic manner’ by placing weightless aether on top of the winds. He argues: ‘The oddness of the control is caught in a moment of comparison with Vergil's (...) universe: Vergil's Jupiter controls the winds by putting on top of them a mass of mountains, while Ovid's mundi fabricator places above them the aether, explicitly “liquid and lacking weight, containing nothing of earthly sediment” ’. Feeney's observation has much to recommend it. To begin with, Ovid's excursus on the cardinal winds evokes Vergil's set piece on the cave of Aeolus in Aeneid l. And the demiurge's subsequent placement of aether seems to echo the action of the Vergilian Jupiter. However, Feeney's conclusion that the demiurge's action is ‘redolent of anti-epic allegiances’ needs some adjustment.4 For his reading neglects an important verbal and structural allusion to the cosmogony of Lucretius . Accordingly, the conclusion to be drawn from lines 67–8 may be, not that Ovid momentarily reveals his Callimachean colours in an epic context, but that he plays Lucretius off against Vergil and so establishes his own position in the epic tradition of cosmological poetry. (shrink)

In spite of the labours of Sedlmayer,1 Ehwald2 and Palmer,3 it cannot be said that there exists a completely satisfactory edition of Ovid's Heroides. One or all of these editors sometimes leave a corrupted text, sometimes adhere too closely to a manuscript reading, and sometimes introduce untenable emendations. A new edition is called for, with revised collati ons of the known manuscripts, and an augmented apparatus criticus, exhibiting the large class of what I may term the ‘Vulgate’ manuscripts, which represents (...) a tradition different from, and probably later than that of our chief authority, the excellent but unfortunately incomplete eleventh-century Parisinus , which, like all primary manuscripts of this type, contains many readings or corruptions which should not on account of its mere authority be accepted slavishly. Light is often thrown on the text from less important sources, and the truth may be recovered from manuscripts of the ‘Vulgate’ family, where our better authority fails. In this connexion the study of my own manuscript has led me to some conclusions in certain passages which I venture to set forth as suggestions towards an improved constitution of the text of the Heroides. Though it is clear from the preceding investigation into its nature that O is no primary manuscript, but belongs rather to that large class which has passed through various stages of reproduction involving alterations due either to carelessness of copyists or, more rarely, to deliberate alteration, it presents at the same time a phenomenon not unusual with such manuscripts, inasmuch as it often supports the best tradition, and in some cases preserves a reading which yields the truth, or from which the truth can be elucidated. I have used the following symbols: P = Parisinus 8242 s. xi. E = Etonensis s. xi. G = Gueferbytanus s. xii. V = Schedae Vindobonenses s xii. O = my manuscript s. xiv. D = Dresdensis s. xiii. ω = all or the majonly of the ‘Vulgate’ manuscripts. ζ = some of these manuscripts. (shrink)

This article takes as its starting point the frequency with which Ovid refers to his earlier works in his Tristia and Epistulae ex Ponto. Alongside his treatment of the Metamorphoses in the exile poetry, it is suggested that Ovid refers, on a number of occasions, to his Fasti and the progress he is making on it. He does so by using the incipit of his calendar poem, Tempora; this term is sometimes combined with signa (‘stars’), which are also mentioned in (...) the opening couplet of the Fasti. It is proposed that Ovid's attitude toward his Fasti changes over the course of his exile, during which time he is, at various junctures, editing his calendar, and that some of these changes are discernible in the exile poetry; they result in part from his entertaining the possibility of using his Fasti as leverage in securing a mitigation of his punishment. Poems discussed in detail are Tristia 1.1, 1.7, 2.547–52, 5.3; Epistulae ex Ponto 2.1, 4.8. (shrink)

Critics generally have not warmed to Heroides 8. Jacobson opined that the poem is ‘not very successful’ and claimed that the lengthy argumentation is ‘rather boring, not to say sometimes silly and annoying’, while Palmer described it as ‘the feeblest and least poetical of all the Heroides’. However, scholars have largely neglected some typically Ovidian cleverness and complexity in kaleidoscopic play with character. Ovid's Hermione is Hermione, but she also takes on the guise of other mythological heroines, and she represents (...) a complete inversion of an earlier depiction of Hermione. All of this gives the poem a distinct intellectual appeal to supplement the emotional impact, with witty touches to ensure that the epistle is not mawkish. (shrink)

Act 4, scene 1 of Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream opens with the amorous dialogue between Titania and her newly beloved Nick Bottom. In a show of immoderate attention to one of the "hempen home-spuns,"1 Titania's affectionate imperatives add to the scene's dramatic irony: "Come, sit thee down upon this flow'ry bed / While I thy amiable cheeks do coy, / And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head, / And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy". Titania's pursuit (...) of Bottom is so excessive that the love scene becomes sadly comical: not only has the queen of the fairy world been tricked into falling in love with one of the "rude mechanicals" but he is one whose head, as we know, has... (shrink)

As the first poem of the last book of Ovid'sAmores, 3.1 parallels the programmaticrecusatioof the first two books, which present the traditional opposition of elegy to epic. InAmores3.1, the personified Elegy and Tragedy compete for Ovid's poetic attention, and scholars have accordingly scrutinized the generic tension between elegy and tragedy in this poem. My study, by contrast, focusses on the import of the metapoeticlocusin which Ovid sets his contest between the two genres, by considering the linguistic and allusive play in (...) the opening lines. Ovid exploits the metaphor of literary tradition as an ancient and sacred forest to transform an author's choice of poetic genre into a walk in the woods. Moreover, allusions to Virgil'sAeneid6.179 and Ennius'Annales175 (Sk.) in the first line guide Ovid's audience to expect the more traditional opposition of elegy and epic. The less conventional contest between the genres of elegy and tragedy soon overturns this expectation; nevertheless, elegy's customary opposite, epic, maintains a presence in the form of a woodland context for Ovid's innovative generic opposition. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Ovid’s Literary Loves: Influence and Innovation in the AmoresBetty Rose NagleBarbara Weiden Boyd. Ovid’s Literary Loves: Influence and Innovation in the Amores. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1997. xii 1 252 pp. Cloth, $39.50.The “literary love affair” (130) in the Amores is as much (or more) an affair conducted with literature as it is one represented in literature. Although Barbara Boyd never puts it that way, this (...) is the essence of her argument. In her reading, this three-book collection of amatory elegies is the narrative of Ovid’s early career as a poet. This novel use of the genre—for literary autobiography—is one of the ways in which Ovid expands its boundaries. In Ovid’s Literary Loves Boyd intends to help readers appreciate the originality of the Amores, in part by showing in it the beginnings of that interest in redefining generic boundaries which in the past decade we have come to recognize, through the work of Stephen Hinds and others, as a hallmark of Ovid’s whole corpus.In her introduction, “The Isolation of Ovid’s Amores,” Boyd digests and assesses the current opinion about Ovid’s collection. Its “literary isolation” has resulted from the combined effects of the “generic fallacy” and what she calls the “progressive fallacy.” The latter (her own coinage) is the critical position which holds either that “what comes first is worst” or that “what comes last is worst” (5); accordingly, the Amores are early Ovid and hence inferior, and Ovid is the last of the elegists and hence inferior. As an antidote to the “generic fallacy” Boyd proposes James Zetzel’s “challenge of generic freedom,” itself the latest variation of Kroll’s “Kreuzung der Gattungen.” [End Page 468]Chapter 1, “Reused Language: Genre and Influence in the Interpretation of the Amores,” takes its point of departure from a comparison of the two propemptica Am. 2.11 and Propertius 1.8a. Boyd sets out “both to simplify and to clarify a method for reading imitation in the Amores” (19), and in doing so she makes a substantial contribution to the typology of imitation in Latin literature as a whole. She does this by bringing together two unlikely bedfellows, integrating G. P. Goold’s ideas about Ovid’s “formulae” and “instinctive” versification with G. B. Conte’s concepts of “poetic memory” and poetic language as “reused language.” She also employs Conte’s distinction between “exemplary model” (verbatim imitation) and “code model” (the system of generic rules familiar beforehand) and Richard Thomas’s preference for the term “reference” instead of “imitation.” For her purposes she distinguishes (30–31) between a “parallel,” which may “simply be a common topos” (30) rather than an actual imitation; a “formula,” which may be “a very precise mark of a poetic tradition” (30) without making a specific reference; and a “reference,” which is likely to engage with a whole tradition rather than simply allude to a single source. Finally, she distinguishes (47) “external allusion” (to another poet) from “self-imitation,” which in turn is differentiated into “’internal reference’ proper” (to an earlier poem in the same collection) and “self-imitation” (“reference across works”). These latter may well be, as she claims, “two different, though related, phenomena” (47), but “self-imitation” is not relevant to Boyd’s own discussion until her last chapter. In posing the question “How do we recognize ‘imitation’?” she distinguishes between imitation of “form and theme” (33) and imitation of “content” (34), using the latter term rather idiosyncratically to include “precise features, such as style, diction, and metrical character” (34).Chapter 2, “Literary Means and Ends: Ovid’s Ludus Poeticus,” continues the treatment of imitation in considering Ovid’s practice of “multiple allusion” (67, 89), according to Boyd “an aspect of his style that is far too little recognized and understood” (67). The goal is to clarify how Ovid views his literary past and what meaning his sources have for his use of them—in brief, as she neatly summarizes, “to move beyond equating Ovid’s inspiration and purpose with Propertius and parody, respectively” (50). She shows how in creating Sulmo as a literary landscape (Am. 2.16... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Ovid's Narcissus (Met. 3.339-510):Echoes of OedipusIngo Gildenhard and Andrew ZissosNarcissistic Thebes?Ovid's tales of Echo and Narcissus, while mutually enhancing in their magnificently suggestive symmetries,1 have long been considered an oddity in their larger narrative context.2 Otis, for instance, is not alone in feeling that they are quite "extraneous" to the Theban milieu which dominates this particular stretch of the Metamorphoses, since they seem only superficially linked to the tragic (...) city through the figure of Tiresias.3 Some scholars have tried to solve the problem of their inclusion in Ovid's "Thebaid" (3.1-4.603) by pointing to thematic correspondences that connect "Narcissus and Echo" to other episodes in the narrative vicinity, such as fatal love,4 the intervention of a vengeful divinity, 5 or the problematization of sight.6 Such sequences of thematic patterns, though, are a rather ubiquitous "surface phenomenon" which can be traced in various ways throughout the entire poem, and which hardly ever explain Ovid's poetry in and of themselves.7 Thus, such thematic [End Page 129] links should not be considered a sufficient justification for Ovid's rendition of the Narcissus and Echo episodes at this point in the poem. Nor should one invoke poetic license, as Bömer does when he suggests that Ovid here merely branches out into the wider mythology of Boeotia (Narcissus being a Boeotian youth).8 Rather, here as elsewhere the narratological enigmas of the Metamorphoses are rooted in the peculiar logic of Ovidian poetics.Within Ovid's Theban history, the presence of Narcissus is not the only puzzling feature. The narrative is here constructed around a remarkable absence as well. As Zeitlin has demonstrated, the imagination of Attic drama, which informs this section of the Metamorphoses, employs three principal clusters of myth in order to render Thebes on the tragic stage: the events surrounding Cadmus' arrival in Boeotia and his founding of the city; the house of Laius, in particular the story of his son Oedipus; and the conception and birth of Dionysus as well as his confrontation with his cousin Pentheus upon returning to his maternal city.9 The third book of the Metamorphoses, which contains the first half of Ovid's Theban narrative, is clearly influenced by the structuring principles used by the tragic playwrights to fashion a thematics of Theban mythology. The book opens with a restaging of Thebes' ktisis legend (3.1-130), and the sparagmos of Pentheus provides the appropriate closure (3.511-733), set up and anticipated by the Semele episode (3.253-315). But Ovid curiously excludes the house of Laius, skipping over a vital part of the city's mythological corpus. Even more surprisingly, he does not make up for this peculiar omission elsewhere in the poem.10 The absence of any extended reference to the myth of Oedipus in Ovid's otherwise rather comprehensive mythological compendium is a remarkable silence, and one that merits investigation.At first glance it does appear that Ovid swerves boldly from his all but predetermined narrative path by recounting the episode of Narcissus at the very juncture when the sequence of Theban legends calls for the appearance of an Oedipal figure. Yet the poet does not simply efface the horizon of expectation established by the sequence of Theban [End Page 130] tales. The glaring absence of Oedipus and the baffling presence of Narcissus are in fact flip sides of the same problem. As has been suggested by Loewenstein and Hardie, Ovid uses Narcissus to render vicariously the thematic complex of Oedipus by relating his Narcissus tale to the most powerful literary representation of Oedipus' fate, Sophocles' Oedipus Tyrannus.11 We now build on this insight and further explore the precise modalities by which Ovid turns Sophocles' Oedipus and his own Narcissus into the Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum of an extraordinary intertextual dynamic.Establishing the IntertextualityAn intertextual relationship, especially one as seemingly arbitrary as that between Sophocles' Oedipus Tyrannus and Ovid's Narcissus narrative, needs to be strongly marked if it is to be appreciated by the audience. 12 Ovid signals the connection by introducing the figure of Tiresias into his text immediately... (shrink)

The Art of War application to education is about solving problems to improve student and school success. The Art of War describes the significance of a leader and his knowledge and prudent application of the strategies. At the core of theses strategies is the non-negotiable moral purpose of the leader to be reinforced by other fine qualities as wisdom, commitment, discipline, and courage.

I would refer to the introductory paragraphs of J. Diggle's ‘Notes on Ovid's Tristia, Books I-II’ , 401–19). His list of modern editions does not include F. Della Corte, I Tristia , which I too have not seen. For Book IV we have an edition by T. J. de Jonge.

A survey of three types of cell population models is presented in this paper. The main issue in all the surveyed words is whether or not there exists astable type distribution (s.t.d.). In the last few years, many efforts were directed towards describing the most general models which still exhibits.t.d. Progress made in the case ofsize density models are discussed. A slightly extended version of atime continous daughter cell model, studied in Arino et al. (1991), is presented. Recently, some authors (...) have undertaken the task of comparing models of various origins and types. Such works are alluded to in a discussion. (shrink)

Ovid’s poetic descriptions of Rome are not as vivid, as pictorial as one tends to suppose. In the poems from exile the lack of detail and the flat imagery seem to be programmatic. Thus, the reader’s attention is directed to the metapoetic message conveyed, by bringing into focus the role of enargeia/evidentia and the rivalry between literature and the visual arts. Evidence for this hypothesis is furnished by passages from the “Metamorphoses”, the “Tristia” and the “Epistulae ex Ponto” as well (...) as by statements concerning the ancient theory of evidentia. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:American Journal of Philology 123.2 (2002) 257-273 [Access article in PDF] The Colonial Subject in Ovid's Exile Poetry P. J. Davis IN RECENT YEARS ONE FOCUS FOR THE DISCUSSION of Ovid's poetry, including of course the exile poetry, has been its relationship to the Augustan regime. Although employing essentially the same critical assumptions, scholars have divided into more and less conservative camps, arguing for a pro- or anti-Augustan Ovid. (...) 1 However, in the case of the exile poetry at least, this situation has been altered by a chapter in a recent book by Thomas N. Habinek, in which he argues for what might be termed a conservative (i.e., pro-Augustan) reading, but employing forms of argument that, in classical studies at least, are decidedly unconservative. 2 Drawing on the work of the cultural materialists, 3 Habinek draws an analogy between Tristia and Epistulae ex Ponto and later European colonization narratives in order to argue that "Ovid's laments from exile and dispatches from the contact zone of Pontus sentimentalize his own and his readers' involvement in the project of Roman imperialism." 4The suggestion that Ovid's representation of Tomis and the Black Sea region in the first century C.E. has affinities with later European accounts of foreign and especially colonized territories is an intriguing one that clearly merits consideration. Habinek takes the idea still further and suggests that Ovid's mental attitude in Tomis is akin to that of a colonist living in one of the European colonial empires. Indeed, he quotes D. K. Fieldhouse's explanation of the durability of these empires: "The [End Page 257] basis of imperial authority was the mental attitude of the colonist. His acceptance of subordination—whether through a positive sense of common interest with the parent state, or through inability to conceive of any alternative—made empire durable." 5 For us, who are primarily concerned with Ovid, the important issue here is: who is the colonist with whom Ovid is being compared? After all, between the sixteenth and twentieth centuries, across two American continents, Asia, Africa, and Australia, European colonies took many different forms, incorporated many different peoples and embodied widely varying relationships with the metropolitan power. In fact, Fieldhouse's concern here is with the startling character of the American Revolution, for he argues that "loyalty was the norm and rebellion a break with long-established tradition"(1966, 103). For Fieldhouse the colonist whose mental attitude is so important is a male inhabitant of one of Britain's North American colonies in the second half of the eighteenth century. Fieldhouse is not concerned with colonists in general. How appropriate is the situation of this colonist, say, a locally born resident of pre-Revolutionary Boston or New York, as an analogy for that of Ovid among the Tomitans? The resemblance is not immediately striking.Although citing Fieldhouse's analysis of the nascent United States, Habinek makes it clear that in fact he has a very different kind of colony in mind, a colony in which a European power has control over a numerically superior non-European population: "A comparable claim can be made with regard to the agents of Roman imperialism—soldiers, administrators, and culture workers alike—especially as the Roman system was transformed during the Augustan age from what Conrad's Marlow called 'merely a squeeze' to a colonial system of pacification backed up by an idea, namely, the superiority of Roman culture to that of its subject populations." 6 The use of the phrase "White Man's Burden" 7 as the title for this section of the chapter and the reference to Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness 8 suggest that Habinek conceives of Roman Moesia as [End Page 258] analogous to one of Britain's twentieth-century Asian or African colonies. How appropriate is this analogy? No doubt there were soldiers and administrators in the province. Indeed, Ex Ponto 4.7 is addressed to Julius Vestalis, prefect of the maritime coast, 9 while 4.9 refers to L. Pomponius Flaccus, who had held... (shrink)

Ovid regarded the Epistulae Heroidum as a collection with a consistent theme. He indicates as much at Am. 2.18.18–26, where he describes the unified conception of nine or ten of the Heroides as the result of Amor's insistence that he be an elegiac poet.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Ovid’s Causes: Cosmogony and Aetiology in the MetamorphosesMargaret Worsham MusgroveK. Sara Myers. Ovid’s Causes: Cosmogony and Aetiology in the Metamorphoses. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1994. xvi + 206 pp. Cloth, $32.50.This book takes seriously Ovid’s claim in the proem of the Metamorphoses that his work will encompass the entire universe. Ovid’s primaque ab origine mundi (1.3) must be read as a statement of thematic, not merely (...) chronological scope. “The origin of the world” will continue as a central concern throughout the poem. Myers reads the cosmogony of Book 1 as a continuation of the programmatic statement of the proem: Ovid is allying himself with the tradition of natural-philosophical poetry, as originated by Hesiod and adapted to Hellenistic standards by Apollonius and Vergil. The theme of cosmogony does not merely “frame” the poem, and does not surface only in the explicit creation stories of Book 1 and the didactic discourse of Pythagoras in 15, but instead pervades the entire work. Aetiological stories, as explanations of where individual phenomena come from, continue the scientific theme displayed in the opening cosmogony. The whole Metamorphoses can thus be read as an exploration of the type of poetry which investigates origins of everything, from the universe to natural features to cultural institutions. We should credit Myers with elucidating this cosmogony-aetiology link, which breaks us free of narrow, literal categories, and allows us to see the similar poetic aims of these two literary devices. Her introductory chapter, exploring “The Generic Question” of the Metamorphoses and of post-Callimachean literature in general, points out how recent Latin scholarship has already begun to blur some of those long-unquestioned black-and-white distinctions between genres.At the same time, Myers acknowledges the clash between science (or natural philosophy) and myth. Ovid uses “scientific” language, often in the form of Lucretian allusions, to recount fantastic mythological tales of creatures whose very existence would be questioned by the philosophers. Chapter 1 examines metamorphosis stories which involve natural phenomena, such as the cosmos itself, various animals, etc. Metamorphosis is seen and narrated as a kind of scientific process; hence Ovid’s detailed descriptions of the moment of transformation. [End Page 338] But by calling attention to the incongruity of his subject and his language, Ovid questions the authority of cosmogony to validate myth and of myth to convey the truth.The remainder of Myers’ book focuses on the way in which Ovid unmasks the devices used in aetiological poetry’s claim to a voice of authority. Chapter 2 examines the Alexandrian affiliations of aetiological stories explaining the origins of cultural or religious institutions. This chapter follows something of the approach of P. Knox in the studious attempt to look at the elegiac, unepic features of Ovid’s narrative. Myers investigates the language used to mark a story as an aetion: words such as causa, origo, novus, and unde. Partially through comparison with Ovid’s technique in Fasti (a consistently aetiological, didactic poem) and through examination of the fragments of Callimachus, she also points out certain narrative techniques as characteristic of aetiology. The embedded narrative, related by a supposedly authoritative informant, is revealed as part of the modus operandi of didactic and aetiological poetry.This chapter is perhaps Myers’ most valuable contribution, because it gives us a rationale for some of the seemingly odd features of Ovid’s narrative. One example: why, at Met. 4.772–89, are Perseus’ most famous adventures reported only in indirect statement? Variatio for its own sake is not an adequate answer. Genre would seem to be part of the explanation: battles with monsters belong in epic, a genre which Ovid eschews, at least for the moment. But beyond that negative explanation, Myers suggests a positive one. After the indirect report, someone asks Perseus for an aetiological story: why Medusa had snakes in her hair. His answer in direct speech displays several of the linguistic features which Myers has identified as characteristic of aetia. Thus, Ovid depicts Perseus not so much at a Homeric banquet, with stories of battles and conquests, but at a Callimachean one, with learned exchanges of aetiological myths (cf... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Two Creations: Metamorphoses: i.5–162, 274–415 OVID (Translated by C. Luke Soucy) The Metamorphoses of Ovid opens with the creation of the world, only to recount its destruction and recreation almost immediately after. These stories begin Ovid’s mythic anthology with a sustained exploration of the uncertain origin of humanity, the conflicts in its nature, and its uneasy place in a world governed by divine forces. The following excerpts endeavor (...) to reproduce and contextualize that exploration in a blank verse translation, preserving much of the original wordplay and employing the same number of lines as in the Latin. Before there were seas, lands, and arching skies, Throughout the whole world, nature bore one face, Which was called Chaos, an unordered, rough And tumble mass of lifeless weight, wherein Lay packed the jangling elemental seeds. 10 No Titan1 then brought sunlight to the earth, No Phoebe2 yet wrought full her lunar curve; Nor hung the Earth self-poised in swaddling air, With Amphitrite’s3 arms stretched round her banks. For though the land, the sea, and air were there, 15 The land could bear no tread, the waves no stroke, The mist no light. No being retained its shape, And each opposed with each, for in one self arion 28.3 winter 2021 1. The Sun, son of the Titan Hyperion. 2. Diana, here representing the moon. 3. A Nereid and the wife of Neptune, here representing the sea. 46 the two creations Heat battled cold, wet strove with dry, soft parts Struck against hard, and weight fought weightless things. 20 A god—and better nature—broke this strife. He tore the lands from sky and seas from land, And from the dense air split the crystal heaven. Then, after he released the separate forms, Plucked from that sightless mass, he fastened them 25 In place with common peace. Next, weightless fire Leapt up and claimed its place in vaulting heaven, With air beneath, the next by lightness placed. But denser earth sank under its own weight And drew down heavy masses by its side. 30 The circling water took hold last of all, And wrapped the solid earth inside its flow. Once he, whichever of the gods he was, Had so reduced the whole to living parts, He spun the land into a giant sphere, 35 And, to begin, lest all sides be alike, He ordered straits to stream and swell beneath The sweeping winds and clasp the circled earth. And he made springs and lakes and boundless pools, And tilted banks hemmed in by slanting streams, 40 A share of which the earth absorbs; the rest Runs to the sea, where, in a freer flood, It pounds no banks, but breaks on ocean shores. He ordered fields unrolled and valleys sunk, The forests wreathed with leaves, the mountains raised; 45 And, as two regions on both left and right Divide the sky (a fiery fifth between), So did the might of god segment its load: The same five bounds are stamped upon the earth. The middle zone is home to heat alone, 50 The outer two to snow, but those between He gave both flame and frost in measured fare, And over all, the air—as great a weight Compared to fire as water feels from earth. Ovid 47 He ordered there the mists and there the clouds, 55 And thunder, soon to frighten mortal minds, And, mixed with bolts of light, the flashing Winds. To them, the maker did not grant the air Outright (for even now, when each one blows In his own realm, the brothers quarrel so 60 They scarce withhold from shattering the world). So Eurus sought Arabian lands of dawn And Persian peaks aglow with morning rays, While near the western shores by sunset warmed, Dwells Zephyrus; and wintry Boreas seized 65 The Scythian north, while southern lands drip wet With constant clouds and rain by Auster’s hand. Above them all, the god let aether flow, A liquid lacking weight or earthly trace. Such boundaries had he scarcely set in place 70 Before the stars, which had so long been crushed In sightless gloom, began to light the sky. And... (shrink)