H.'s commentary on Aen. 6 has to be numbered among the major achievements of classical philology. Working on one of the most difficult texts of Latin poetry and inevitably facing the great Eduard Norden, H. has succeeded in completing a real monumentum. The commentary on Aen. 6 follows the well-established tradition of H.'s Virgilian commentaries, but in a new two-volume format, with continuous pagination, making it very useful and handy for the reader: the first, short volume contains an introductory essay, extensive bibliography, four pages of Praemonenda (a welcome aid for the reader, explaining, for example, H.'s customary method of printing the bold letters O, P and T in the margin of the text to indicate a note in the commentary on orthography, punctuation and text; see also p. xxviii), Latin text fronted by an accurate and reliable English translation; the second, larger volume contains the commentary and three appendices. Virgilian scholars are well accustomed to the particular style of H.'s commentaries, and so I will limit myself to just a few general observations.

H.'s Aen. 6 is a systematic and thorough analysis of the text, firmly centred on the dominant personality of the commentator, a choice that is much more significant in our days, when the methodology of the commentary on classical texts is the subject of critical debate. This particular atmosphere, so typical of H.'s commentaries, explains the personal and sometimes even confidential mode of the discussion: for example the analytical examination of bibliography, where the contribution of every single scholar is scrutinised in detail (also for their possible silence, censured by the formula tacet: e.g. p. 91 ad 18 sacravit; or for quoting an irrelevant locus parallelus: e.g. p. 104 ad 47). Perhaps not every reader of Virgil will be interested in the factual mistakes or wrong interpretations of H.'s predecessors, but in his particular way H. performs an invaluable service, offering a reliable selection and discussion of an enormous amount of bibliography. The reader will not be surprised by the presence of those personal considerations so congenial to H.'s way of commenting, sometimes sprinkled by a touch of humour: for example p. 148 ad 126 (end of note); p. 312 ad 413 (end of page); not to be missed: ‘this is PVM, not PW (or even MRR)’ (p. 511, introd. to 756–846; H. loves abbreviations and here plays with them). Perfectly convenient to the idiosyncratic mode of H., who clearly has in mind a select public of homines docti, are the three appendices that end the second volume: the first one, where H. extends his exegesis to the much debated plena deo (a phrase attributed to Virgil that is not in fact present in the text of the Aeneid), the second one, where H. tells the story of his long career as a Virgilian scholar, and especially as a researcher ‘at the Sibyl's heels’ (the appendix was written originally for a collection of essays on Aen. 6 [cf. p. 643 n. 4], but is perfectly at home here) and the last one, significantly entitled ‘In the shadow of Eduard Norden’.

It is difficult to imagine how one could add anything to H.'s notes, that seem to fill, so to speak, all the space in the margin of the text. Sometimes, however, the reader is left to do some filling in, because in spite of its richness H.'s commentary is not always exhaustive about the ancient texts that are necessary for interpretation: for example the reader who is curious about the Greek literary antecedents of Daedalus as voyager is directly referred to secondary bibliography (p. 89 ad 14); in a similar way one does not find in H.'s notes even the basic ancient sources on Androgeos (p. 92 ad 20–2); at p. 128 ad 94 the annotation starts with ‘cf.’ and a reference to RFIC. But H.'s readers know that patience always yields its reward.

As far as the text is concerned, H. has taken full advantage of the critical edition of G.B. Conte, published just four years earlier. Thanks to these two recent works readers and scholars have access to a full and up-to-date synthesis of the status quaestionis on every portion of the text. Sometimes one has the feeling that some well-known problems such as Tantalus in 601–7 (see pp. 416–19) or the much debated 743–4 (p. 502) remain unsolved, but agreement between Conte and H. is usually a strong argument for plausibility. I will limit myself to just a couple of examples concerning the difficult and elusive question of punctuation: 858 sistet eques, sternet (see p. 591, where Conte should be added to Mynors and Geymonat); 122 quid Thesea magnum, / quid eqs. (p. 146). For the fundamental question of the Aeneid as unfinished text, H. is not inclined to explain all the incongruent or disordered passages by resorting to the unfinished stage of composition: see for example p. 128 ad 94 (but contrast p. 608 ad 886–901, where the ‘no small accumulation of little flaws’ is aptly considered as good evidence of a ‘seriously unrevised passage’).

The reader who, knowing H.'s previous Virgilian commentaries, has some expectations of his Aen. 6 will not be disappointed and maybe not too surprised by the general attitude of scepticism that H. shows on Realien in Virgil. The most telling case is H.'s rejection of the idea of Virgil as a meticulous ‘topographer’ (esp. p. 74). No doubt Virgil's love and knowledge of ancient Campania were two important reasons that made him mindful of the general traits of landscape, but H.'s approach is salutary in discouraging the reader from a naive confidence in the Aeneid as a repository of precise archaeological evidence (see e.g. p. 131 ad 98 ex adyto). For example in 41 alta in templa the connotation of ‘highness’ must not be interpreted as archaeologically relevant to the ancient site of Apollo's temple in Cumae, as H. observes (p. 102: ‘no topographical “conclusions” may be ventured’); there may also be a rhetorical reference to the impressive and ‘high’ Apolline citadel on the Roman Palatine (Apollo as the highest god of the Augustan Age and hence his high temple; cf. 9–10 arces quibus altus Apollo / praesidet). On some points of interpretation in relation to historical and ‘real’ facts, discussion has to remain open, but very often H. reaches solid and unquestionable results, for example on the doves that, pace Norden, are not augural in the true sense of the word (p. 155 ad 136–48 [4]; also p. 653), or on the victims of abortion, that some interpreters have attempted to see in 428, but have no place in the text of the Aeneid nor in its complex pattern of implications (p. 324).

As usual in H.'s commentaries, enormous erudition goes together with a fine sense of language and style, that the reader sees in action in a number of splendid notes (see e.g. pp. 323–4 ad 427 in limine primo, where linguistic and philological skills happily converge: pure H. at his best). Sometimes, however, the reader (even the expert reader) has the impression that on matters of language the commentary is too cryptic: see for example p. 67 ad 4 ancora fundabat navis, where the bibliographical reference (LHS in the first instance) does not explain what the linguistic question at issue is. But in general readers of all stripes have much to learn from H.'s attentive and systematic annotations. I think that H. is right to react against the overuse of the concept of ‘technical’ language, that is common and widespread in the praxis of exegetical work on classical texts. It is true, as H. observes, that ductis sortibus in 22 (pp. 93–4) is not exactly technical, because it is not ‘special vocabulary of a professional group’, but the label of ‘technischer’ (Norden) vel sim. is often simply intended to connote a phrase or a word as used in some ‘specific’ context (Norden here: ‘technischer Ausdruck der alten Sprache’): one has to presume that Norden knew well that ducere sortem is normal Latin (and the loci compared by H., Hor. Epist. 1.20.28 and Culex 162 are very particular and not exactly homologous). Every reader of Virgil knows how difficult and complex are the style and expressive ways of the poet, which are often complicated by an emotional, sometimes pathos-laden element (hence the powerful quality of his expression, typically elusive and not always easy to explain and rationalise). But as to the matter of ‘ambiguity’ H. shows a wise reluctance, putting strict limits on it: see for example p. 94 ad 24 crudelis amor tauri, where H. makes his choice, referring crudelis to amor and not to tauri; this is right, I think, because crudelis refers usually to unhappy love, as in Ecl. 10.29 (add 8.47–50), whereas the bull need not be considered cruel, because he is not unwilling to accept the love of (disguised) Pasiphae; cf. also Ecl. 6.45–60.

Here follow more specific observations on a few points chosen at random. On p. 68 ad 4–5: the audacious image litora curuae praetexunt puppes may find a parallel (and reinterpretation?) in Ov. Ars 1.255 quid referam Baias praetextaque litora Bais (v.l. velis); on p. 138 ad 116 where H. writes: ‘orans curious (so already Serv.) when the Sibyl is well able to give orders; but orare, orator is archaic for “speak”, “spokesman”’; in Aeneas’ words, here Anchises (not the Sibyl) speaks with emphasis, since he is almost beseeching his son to follow his prescriptions (mandata); so precisely Servius: maior enim ad impetrandum vis est eum rogare, qui possit iubere; on p. 153 ad 136–48 (g): for pulchra Proserpina (Greek καλλίστη?) cf. also Tab. defix. (CIL I.2 2520) 1 bona pulchra Proserpina, Plutonis uxor.

Well-balanced literary finesse is shown by H. in dealing with some classic problems of the book, that are central to every general interpretation of Virgil. Such is the case of the well-known v. 211 cunctantem (see p. 156 b, pp. 158–60 ad 137), discussed at length and with exemplary open-mindedness by H., who offers a wide range of possible answers to the problem of the exact force of the participle, which, in my opinion, ought to be interpreted as subjective, that is, signifying Aeneas’ point of view: Aeneas is impatient and eager (210 auidus) to carry on with his undertaking (descending to the Underworld, going to Latium, etc.), and in that moment of anxiety the golden bough seems to him to be reluctant and ‘hesitating’. And here we see Virgil's mastery as narrative poet too: the Aeneid itself, now nearing its midpoint, has to relaunch the narration and go on, and so the bough must be picked rapidly by Aeneas (remember the theme of mora at the conclusions of the second Iliadic part of the poem: R. Tarrant, Virgil, Aeneid, Book XII [2012], pp. 3–4). Consider also how brusquely the Sibyl deters Aeneas from contemplating the splendid doors of Daedalus, in the very first scene of the book: non hoc ista sibi tempus spectacula poscit (37). Aeneas (and the reader with him) is warned: it is time for action, not for ecphrasis and contemplation.

In interpreting the poetical construction of the text H. deploys his profound competence regarding poetic language: see for example p. 519 ad 756, where he is right to point to the proemial function of these verses (although obviously Anchises cannot invoke the Muses, as we see by comparing the proem to Book 7, where Virgil is speaking in propria persona). The vastness of H.'s interests and knowledge of classical literature is well matched to the dense complexity of Virgil's sixth book. Such extraordinary erudition finds H. making significant additions to Norden (and, moreover, on very ‘Nordenian’ texts, such as Orac. Sib.: see p. 132 ad 102). Sometimes one has the feeling that H. inclines to undervalue some poetic models, especially Virgil's own earlier poems: in 883 lilia plenis the resonance of Ecl. 2.45 (noted as a parallel, but only in relation to the colour of lilia: p. 606) aims probably at a gentle homage to the puer Marcellus, or in 444 the silua (myrtea) is particularly appropriate as a hiding-place for lovers, considering the bucolic connotation of the word (the siluae who listen to Corydon in Ecl. 2.5; also Ecl. 1.5, etc.; see p. 334). But also the encomiastic side of Aen. 6 owes much to a precocious and fundamental text such as Ecl. 4, a text that deserved more consideration in the detailed and acute notes on vv. 791–805 (esp. pp. 538–9). In the section that opens with the emphatic hic uir, hic est (791) Virgil is rewriting the (sibylline) prophecy of Ecl. 4: it will not be the son of Antony and Octavia, according to the most plausible interpretation of Ecl. 4, nor some other infant born or conceived in 40 b.c. (Ecl. 4.3 te consule), that will restore the aurea saecula, but this man, Augustus himself. Keeping Ecl. 4 in mind the interpreter of Aen. 6 will easily understand why Augustus here, after a circumstantial mention of Egypt (799–800), is seen as going beyond Alcides and Liber (801–5), i.e. two typically Antonian models of divine power. Now the time of the foedus Brundisinum, the time of Asinius Pollio as a point of balance between Antony and Octavian, is over, and Augustus is the unique dominating figure of imperium: hence an emphatic tone that has embarrassed many interpreters (occasionally causing misinterpretation, as in the case of Austin on 791 saepius audis, opportunely noted by H. [p. 539]).

With his new commentary on Aeneid 6 H. has given classical scholarship a fundamental tool for the interpretation of one of the most complex works of poetry ever written. The volume is very well edited: considering its size misprints are impressively few and never found in Latin words. Even the syllabification of individual Latin words is correct (nowadays an unicum, alas, even among philological commentaries), except for p. 123 r. 23 from below desid-eras. For the Greek I have spotted just one misprint: in Soph. fr. 879 Radt (Kannicht) νεκρῶν should be printed just once rather than twice, as on p. 477, in the middle of the page.