It has long been accepted as a principle by editors and writers on Greek metre that brevis in longo and hiatus in tragic lyrics often coincide with some kind of sense-pause. The object of this inquiry is (i) to determine the incidence of pause in such places, and show that it is significantly high; (ii) to show that there is a comparable incidence in the corresponding places in strophic systems; (iii) to show that period-ends determined by criteria other than brevis and hiatus are attended by similar conditions. It might seem that if all this were true it would have been recognized long ago, particularly as the connection between sense and metrical structure, and symmetry of sense in strophe and antistrophe, has often been pointed out.

A vast amount has been written on the relationship between Terence's and Menander's Eunuchus. On some points a good measure of agreement has been reached, but much remains in dispute. In an important article W. Ludwig convincingly demonstrated the inner unity of Terence's plot, against earlier theories of large-scale ‘contaminatio’ The nature of the changes made by Terence in introducing two characters from Menander's Colax (30–3) is now fairly clear, although argument is possible over details. The changes are numerous but relatively small and do not affect the main lines of Menander's plot. In this paper I shall argue that Terence made similar changes in two other parts of the play, and that these caused certain anomalies which have prompted theories of more drastic Terentian change.

The battle of Salamis can be dated with a high degree of certainty. Probably about the time of that battle, Cleombrotus was at the Isthmus, constructing the defences there (Hdt. 8. 71. 1). At some point while building the wall, he considered giving chase to the Persian army. When his sacrifice was answered by a solar eclipse, he took this as a bad omen and immediately returned to Lacedaemon (9. 10. 2–3). The eclipse visible to Cleombrotus could only have been that of 2 October 480. Now it is generally supposed that Cleombrotus would not have thought to abandon the construction of the wall and pursue Xerxes unless the latter had just begun his retreat from Athens. Thus, as Herodotus says that a few days () after the battle of Salamis Xerxes withdrew from Attica (8. 113. 1), the battle of Salamis probably occurred before 2 October 480.

Procopius, Bell. Goth. 8.20 (pp. 589 ff., ed. Haury), gives us information about Britain which is of the first importance, but I have not seen a convincing interpretation of what he says. Since the standard English translation, that of H. B. Dewing in the Loeb series (vol. v, pp. 252 ff.), includes a number of unfortunate mistakes I rive a literal translation of some of Procnnius' sentences.

The aim of this paper is to discuss Terence's use of Greek loan-words and to examine their distribution by plays and by characters. How far are they used for stylistic effect and what relationship do they have to the themes of different plays? Is there any evidence for the concentration of these words, which often tend to be colloquial in tone, in the mouths of slaves and characters of low social status for the purposes of linguistic characterisation? Finally, does Terence's use of these words develop in the course of his short career? The usefuleness of a previous note on this subject by J. N. Hough is limited by the absence of any comprehensive list of occurrences, so that its objectivity is difficult to check. A more helpful discussion by P. Oksala gives a fuller list, but concentrates mainly on a comparison with Plautine usage in the type and frequency of these words and does not discuss their distribution within the Terentian corpus.

The question of characterisation by linguistic means, particularly in the field of New Comedy, has received considerable attention in recent years. The doctrine that a character's speech should be appropriate to his or her age, sex or social status, is well attested in the ancient world, with reference both to the theatre and to the law-courts. The ancient scholia on Aristophanes, as well as the fourth-century commentary on Terence that goes under the name of Donatus, contain comments on the appropriateness of particular words and phrases to particular character types. Leo, commenting long ago on the distribution of Greek words in Plautus, observed that they were used predominantly by slaves and characters of low social standing, a point made earlier by N. Tuchhaendler. More recently M. E. Gilleland has produced detailed statistical evidence for both Plautus and Terence which tends to back up these observations.

καλὸν δ᾽ ἐπὶ σήματι σῆμα
σκέπτεσθαι, μᾶλλον δὲ δυοῖν εἰς ταὐτὸν ἰόντων
ἐλπωρὴ τελέθοι, τριτάτῳ δέ κε θαρσήσειας. (Phaen. 1142–4)

In his magisterial work Persephone, Zuntz drew a basic distinction between two sets of Orphic gold leaves—those known from the elaborate tumuli at Thurii, which he called Group A, and a more widely scattered series, Group B, then represented by two longer texts from Petelia in southern Italy and Pharsalus in Thessaly, and, in a shortened form, by a series of six (now seven) short texts from the environs of Eleutherna in Crete (his Group C). Three further finds have reinforced Zuntz's distinctions: first, a tablet from Hipponium, the colony of Epizephyrian Locri in southern Italy, published by Foti and Pugliese Carratelli, then a lamella said to be from Thessaly but now in Malibu and published by Breslin, and finally a tablet said to be from Entella in Sicily and recently in Geneva, which was published in a bad transcription by Frel and much clarified by Riedweg. The first and third belong to Zuntz's Group B, while the second is close to his Group C. Pugliese Carratelli has published an exceptionally fine set of photographs of all the texts except those from Petelia and Entella. My restudy of the leaf from Petelia has led to some improved readings. Not even a drawing exists of the Entellan leaf, which no scholar except its first editor has ever seen. This fact prompted a reviewer of this article to wonder about its authenticity. In the absence of the object itself, such doubts can only be allayed if its text consistently contributes to improving our understanding of the archetype from which it is derived. One of the aims of this article is to show that it does indeed do so.

Demosthenes prophesied1 that, unless Athens stopped Philip in the north, she would have to deal with him in Greece itself, and the events of 346 proved him right. Right in this much, he has been presumed right in general, and the policies of those he opposed have received only scant consideration before being dismissed as the selfish pursuit of peace by the rich, who were so blinded by their material interests that they could not see the real issues involved. It is the purpose of this article to question, from a purely military standpoint, the soundness of Demosthenes' policy.

For the life of the poet Ion we have more certain dates than for most of the Other writers of the fifth century. He produced his first tragedy in the 82nd Olympiad, 452–448 B.C., another in the year of the archon Epameinon 429/428 B.C. —after the death of Perikles and when the revolt of Lesbos was imminent—and his death is fixed for us by a passage in the Peace of Aristophanes, which we may well call an obituary, in summer 422 or even in winter 422/421 B.C. The approximate date of his birth we learn from his own words in a story preserved by Plutarch, and deriving no doubt from the book to which later librarians gave the title 'Επι7dgr;ημίαι or 'Υπομνήμαтα: 5 συδειπν⋯σαι δè т⋯ι Κίμωνί ϕησιν ⋯ Ἴων πανάπασιν μειράκιον ἢκων εἰς 'Aθήνας Χίου παρà Ααομέδονтι. Hence he was about fifteen years of age when he first came to Athens, apparently in order to get his higher education there—a fact which seems significant of the position which Athens had won for herself by the foundation of the Delian League. At the same time this fact clearly indicates that his father Orthomenes, whom they called Xuthos, had whole-heartedly espoused the cause of Athens. He bequeathed his loyalty to his son Ion, who adhered to Athens through all vicissitudes of fortune, and he in his turn bequeathed it to his son Tydeus, who paid for it with his life.

It has been strongly disputed that Philoponus is the author of the commentary on the third book of De Anima printed in vol. xv of CAG under his name, and Stephanus of Alexandria has been taken to be its real author. The evidence for the authorship of Stephanus is as follows: (I) Codex Parisinus gr. 1914, written in the twelfth century, has an adscript by a later hand saying βιβλ⋯ον τρ⋯τον ⋯π⋯ ϕωνης στεϕ⋯νου (‘third book from the voice of Stephanus’), and the same appears in the fifteenth-century Codex Estensis iii F 8. (II) In 543.9 there is a clause saying ὡς ⋯ν τῷ περ⋯ ⋯ρμηνε⋯ας ⋯μ⋯θομεν (‘as we learnt in the De Interpretatione’), which was taken by M. Hayduck to be direct reference to Stephanus' commentary on the De Interpretatione, edited also by Hayduck in vol. xiii/3 of CAG. (III) The third book, says Hayduck, is short (brevis) and jejune (jejunus), in contrast to the verbosity of the preceding two books. (IV) The commentary on the third book of De Anima is divided into lectures (πρ⋯ξεις), but the first two books are not. (V) Some locutions are used constantly in the third book and in Stephanus' in De Interpretatione as well. (VI) In the Codex Vaticanus gr. 241 fol. 6 (fourteenth century) we are told that Stephanus also wrote a commentary on the De Anima.

It is well known that sometime before 700 b.c. the Greeks took over from the Near East a complex theogonic myth about the succession of rulers in heaven, involving the motifs of the castration of Sky and a swallowing and regurgitation by his successor, and that this story forms the framework of Hesiod's Theogony. It is less well known that at a later epoch, sometime before the middle of the sixth century b.c., a quite different and no less striking oriental myth about the beginning of things was introduced to Greece: the myth of the god Unaging Time, who created the materials for the world from his own seed, and of the cosmic egg out of which the heaven and the earth were formed. I have discussed this myth and its variants elsewhere. My purpose in re-examining it here is firstly to clarify various details of the Phoenician versions of the cosmogony as reported in Greek sources, secondly to obtain a sharper picture of its original form, and thirdly to argue that the world model of the early Ionian philosophers, which to some extent set the pattern for subsequent Greek cosmology, owed more to the myth than has generally been appreciated.

A. W. Verrall (The Altar of Mercy, Literary Essays Classical and Modern, Cambridge, 1913) considers rightly that the scene at Thebaid I 2. 481 ff. is ‘the cardinal point of the whole poem’. I hope to show that Statius has portrayed the goddess Clementia as a force which functions in a way very different from that which his readers would expect from their experience of the usage of the word clementia and that his new portrayal is closely related to a theme of the poem. I shall suggest that his redefinition of the concept was inspired by the political situation in which he found himself. The Altar of Mercy focuses Statius' thoughts on the position of man in the universe and of the individual in society, and coming as it does after eleven books of disaster offers some comfort to man in his suffering. Statius is concerned in the Thebaid with man as a tragic victim, and the Altar of Mercy affords him comfort precisely in that area in which he most seeks it.

The Culex remains the most bewildering of poems. The consensus of modern opinion holds that it is a deliberate forgery, post-Ovidian in date, purporting to be a work of the youthful Virgil and thus serving to fill the large biographical vacuum in the career of the poet before the publication of the Eclogues. If this is the case, it must be asked why the forger chose to fill that gap with a poem thematically and stylistically so idiosyncratic which nevertheless managed to gain ready acceptance as Virgilian by the end of the first century A.D. This is a very large question, but in postulating the close dependence of parts of the poem on Cornelius Gallus (I), particularly on his symbolism of poetic inspiration (II–V), I hope to go some of the way towards providing an answer (VI). If this article is directed primarily at the problem of the Culex, I would like to think it makes a contribution also to the much more important study of Gallus, whose reputation has suffered somewhat since the publication of those wretched lines from Qasr Ibrîm. Yet, if not a single line of his work had survived, the one thing we could say of his poetry with confidence is that it inspired. Anyone trying to make an assessment of Gallus' poetic achievement should first make a close study of Virgil's Sixth and Tenth Eclogues and then ask whether fragments have ever formed a firm basis for the evaluation of an author's work. Rehabilitation should not be necessary.

Whatever fond hopes their author may have entertained when he published them, the Letters of the younger Pliny did not meet with an appreciative public. The first, indeed almost the only, writer before modern times to have read them with care and to have signalled his admiration by imitation is Sidonius Apollinaris, bishop of Auvergne in the late fifth century.

Cicero, Lucullus 38: ‘…non potest animal ullum non adpetere id quod accommodatum ad naturam adpareat (Graeci id οỉκεῖον appellant)…’

From earliest childhood every man wants to possess something. One man collects horses. Another wants gold. Socrates has a passion for companions. He would rather have a good friend than a quail or a rooster. In this way, Socrates begins his interrogation of Menexenus. He then congratulates Menexenus and Lysis for each having what he himself still does not possess. How is it that one gets a friend, Socrates asks?

Since the nineteenth century many who have read these lines have found them repulsive. Scholars have damned the Lysis for its selfish egoism, for regarding persons as personal belongings. At the turn of the century some sought to discredit the dialogue as a forgery and a calumny. Others debated the dating of the dialogue as Socratic or Platonic, seeking whom to blame rather than whom to credit. And those who have regarded the dialogue as Platonic have tried to redeem it by detecting hints of Plato's theory of Forms. A few have attempted to salvage reputations by understanding the argument of the Lysis as a reductio of egoism, or else by invoking the loyalty of Socrates' friends and the history of Plato's friendship for Dion of Syracuse to speak up for their defence. Guthrie has condemned the dialogue as a failure of method and presentation (‘even Plato can nod’), and Vlastos has pronounced it a failure of love: ‘The lover Socrates has in view seems positively incapable of loving others for their own sake, else why must he feel no affection for anyone whose good-producing qualities he did not happen to need?’

The Lysis appears to make no positive contribution to the Greek tradition on friendship when compared to the Symposium or the Phaedrus. And in the subsequent tradition, whatever Aristotle might have borrowed from the dialogue he uses for his own purposes. Aristotle too is quite critical of specific points raised in the Lysis. Now it might seem that Aristotle made a place for the selfish love of the Lysis in his own theory, as an inferior grade of utility love. But even this cannot be so, if we are to agree with recent studies of Aristotle's ethics. According to Aristotle, if a client is friendly to his benefactor because of the latter's usefulness, this utilitarian motive must accompany a genuine concern (εὔνοια) for the benefactor's own interest in that relation, if they are to be friends. Inferior and genuine friendship may differ in purpose but not in regard for the well-being of the beloved. This respect for the object of one's love has no parallel in the Lysis, according to the standard reading of the dialogue.