The seasoned collector's pulse in unlikely to race at the thought of yet another Pavarotti anthology made up out of previously published recordings. The sound of it is another matter, and something is wrong with the collector or the pulse if the first sung phrases produce no response. I doubt whether in all the 45 different varieties of ''Celeste Aida'' on the collector's shelves there will be found one which starts the recitative with more impulsive excitement or which ends the aria with greater taste and skill. Throughout, the voice shines with unflawed purity of tone, the style has grace and the feeling carries conviction. It is not invariably so: in the Rigoletto excerpts, for instance, ''Questa o quella'' has ruthlessness without charm, ''Parmi veder le lagrime'' has more power than poise, ''La donna e mobile'' more bravura than gaiety. After a fine performance of the recitative, the Luisa Miller aria goes its relentless way without poetry or reflection. Macduff's cries for his lost children are mere operatic routine with no real grief in them. Yet the many shading of the Traviata solo are scrupulously observed and imaginatively interpreted, and in the Ballo in maschera excerpts there is the sense of an artist who has gone to school and found out something fresh and valuable about the music he is singing. Perhaps, inevitably, we are sent away with the great high C of Il trovatore ringing in our ears, yet equally has been the fine line-drawing of ''Ah si, ben mio'', a highly finished performance and worth studying in some detail.'