the first sketch of Macaulay's famous character of
William III. is said to be contained in a Cambridge prize essay on the
subject, so the _Culex_ contains the first draft of some of the greatest
passages in Virgil's later works--the beautiful description of the
charms of country life in the _Georgics_, for instance, and the account
of Tartarus in the sixth book of the _AEneid_. The story is slight, as
was usually the case in these little epics, where the purple patches are
more important than the plot. A shepherd falls asleep in the shade by a
cool fountain, just as he would do in Southern Italy to-day, for his
rest after the midday meal. Suddenly a snake, the horrors of which are
described with a vividness that is truly Virgilian, appears upon the
scene and prepares to strike the shepherd. A passing gnat, the hero of
the poem, sees the danger, and wakes the shepherd by stinging him in the
eye. He springs up angrily, brushes it off with his hand, and dashes it
lifeless to the ground. Then, to his horror, he sees the snake, and
promptly kills it with the branch of a tree.

While he lies asleep that night, the ghost of the gnat appears to him in
a dream, and bitterly reproaches him for the cruel death with which it
has been rewarded for its heroic services. Charon has now claimed it for
his own. It goes on to give a lurid description of the horrors of
Tartarus, and contrasts its hard lot with that of the shepherd. When he
wakes, the shepherd is filled with remorse for his conduct and is also,
perhaps, afraid of being continually haunted by the ghost of his tiny
benefactor. He therefore sets to work to raise a mound in honour of the
gnat, facing it with marble. Round it he plants all kinds of flowers,
especially violets and roses, the flowers usually offered to the dead,
and cuts on a marble slab the following inscription: "Little gnat, the
shepherd dedicates to thee thy meed of a tomb in return for the life
thou gavest him."[77]

There is also an interesting story of Pindar, told by Pausanias.[78] In
his old age the great poet dreamt that Persephone appeared to him and
told him that she alone of all the goddesses had not been celebrated in
song by him, but that he should pay the debt when he came to her.
Shortly after this he died. There was, however, a relation of his, a
woman then far advanced in years, who had practised the singing of most
of his hymns. To her Pindar appeared in a dream and sang the hymn to
Proserpin