In the darkest year that Europe has known since the tenth century, being too old and deaf to be of any active service to the country, I have found myself invigorated by fresh reading of HOmer, Virgil, Milton, Wordsowrth, and some other poets who, like these, are very old friends. A chance visit from a scholar who loves his Virgil, and happened to drop an opportune word or two about the "Gathering of the Clans," sent me once more to the seventh Aeneid, which always brings to mind the quiet, conversational, but most valuable lectures of my college tutor, Henry Nettleship, of which I still have the notes. I need hardly say that a fresh reading revealed new beauties, new secrets; and especially the "catalogue," as it is sometimes injuriously called, claimed from me a long and enjoyable study, of which the fruits, such as they are, are contained the following pages. -- Preface.