Titus Lucretius Carus was probably born in the early first century B.C., and died in the year 55. Little is known of his life, although two tantalizing bits of gossip were passed on by St. Jerome: that he was poisoned by a madness-inducing aphrodisiac given him by his wife, and that his great poem On the Nature of Things was posthumously edited by Cicero. For the latter assertion, writes Anthony Esolen in his introduction to the present volume, there is little evidence, and none whatsoever for the former.

What does survive is a masterful poetic work that stands as the greatest exposition of Epicurean philosophy. Writing in the waning days of the Roman Republic -- as Rome's politics grew individualistic and treacherous, its high-life wanton, its piety introspective and morbid -- Lucretius sets forth a rational and materialistic view of the world which offers a retreat into a quiet community of wisdom and friendship.

Even to modern readers, the sweep of Lucretius's observations is remarkable. A careful observer of nature, he writes with an innocent curiosity into how things are put together -- from the oceans, lands, and stars to a mound of poppy seeds, from the "applause" of a rooster's wings to the human mind and soul. Yet Lucretius is no romantic. Nature is what it is -- fascinating, purposeless, beautiful, deadly. Once we understand this, we free ourselves of superstitious fears, becoming as human and as godlike as we can be. The poem, then, is about the universe and how human beings ought to live in it. Epicurean physics and morality converge.

Until now, there has been no adequate English verse translation of Lucretius's work. Anthony Esolen fills that gap with a versionthat reproduces -- with remarkable faithfulness -- the meaning, pace, and tone of the original Latin.

Here is a book that will introduce a new generation of readers to a thinker whose powers of observation and depth of insight remain fresh to the present day.

"Esolen has the rare gift of being both a fine poet and a lover of languages. His diction is poetic and natural; he has a fine ear for sound, and the translation benefits greatly from being read aloud -- as Latin poetry was meant to be. This translation is clear and forceful. It can, and will, be read." -- Kenneth J. Reckford, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill

This volume brings together leading thinkers who offer reflections on the place of Western civilization in the academy, at a time when there is indifference or even antipathy toward the study of the West at most institutions of higher learning. Alternative narratives-including multiculturalism, diversity, and sustainability-have come to the fore in the stead of Western civilization. The present volume is designed to explore the roots, extent, and long-term consequences of this educational climate: How and why did undergraduate education turn its back on what was once an important component of its mission? To what extent has such change affected the experience of undergraduates and the ability of colleges to educate citizens of a constitutional republic? What are the likely individual and social outcomes of such a shift in educational priorities? The volume's theme is, and will continue to be, the subject of national scholarly and media attention.

Late in the eleventh century the First Crusade culminated in the conquest of Jerusalem by Christian armies. Five centuries later, when Torquato Tasso began to search for a subject worthy of an epic, Jerusalem was governed by a sultan, Europe was in the crisis of religious division, and the Crusades were a nostalgic memory. Tasso turned to the First Crusade both as a subject that would test his poetic ambition and as a reflection on the quandaries of his own time. He sought to create a masterpiece that would deserve comparison with the great epics of the past.

"Gerusalemme liberata" became one of the most widely read and cherished books of the Renaissance. First published in 1581, it was translated into English by Edward Fairfax in 1600. That translation has been the standard, even though Fairfax was only a good, not a great, poet. Fairfax tried to fit Tasso's verse into Spenserian stanzas, adding to and subtracting from the original and often changing Tasso's meaning.

Anthony Esolen's new translation captures the delight of Tasso's descriptions, the different voices of its cast of characters, the shadings between glory and tragedy--and it does all this in an English as powerful and clear as Tasso's Italian. Tasso's masterpiece finally emerges as an English masterpiece.