AN inquiry into the use of paradeigma in the Iliad must begin with Niobe. At 24. 602 Achilles introduces Niobe in order to encourage Priam to have some food. The dead body of the best of Priam's sons has now been placed on the wagon ready for its journey back to Troy. Achilles says (I paraphrase), ‘Now let us eat. For even Niobe ate food, and she had lost twelve children. Apollo and Artemis killed them all; they lay nine days in their blood and there was no one to bury them, because Zeus had turned the people into stone. On the tenth day the gods buried them. But she managed to eat some food, when she was tired of weeping. And now among the mountains, although turned into stone, she still broods over her sorrows. But come, let us also eat. You can weep for your son again later’ (24. 601–19).

In over thirty lines of the Agamemnon I think I discern lurking in the apparatus of modern editions truths unnoticed by recent editors, and needing for the most part merely redivision, repunctuation, or reaccentuation to become recognizable. At a few points I offer alternative interpretations of readings that have been accepted by some at least among modern editors.

The contention that the Homeric epics, and perhaps also the Hesiodic poems and the Homeric Hymns, are the products, directly or at a very short remove, of a tradition of orally improvised poetry is widely accepted as a basic premiss in Homeric criticism. The cogency of the argument depends on the frequency and characteristic use of formulae in the early hexameter poetry, and their rarity in the literature of Classical, Hellenistic, and Roman times, which is known or assumed to have been composed in the study. The reasoning appears to me valid, but in some respects overstated or ambiguously stated in recent publications, and the first fault arises out of the second.

‘And now invoking as our helper overseas Zeus' calf and the son of the flower-browsing ancestress cow by conception from the on-breathing of Zeus—’: so begins the appeal of Danaos' daughters to their forefather Epaphos; the opening sentence is interrupted by a digression and never completed. In 43 M reads (Porson) is almost universally adopted. However, (Tucker) is printed in the current Oxford text (1955). Porson's emendation was attacked by Tucker on various grounds: (1) it was palaeographically unsatisfactory, (2) it added an otiose epithet to but left unqualified, (3) it involved a ‘scarcely Greek’ use of the participle, and (4) it coined a form in having the unique sense ‘graze’ instead of ‘handle’. My purpose is to defend as the true reading and to explore its contextual significance. I begin by taking Tucker's objections in order.

The manuscript tradition of the Theogony is not as good as that of the Erga, a poem which has always been more popular. The earliest complete manuscripts of the Theogony date only from the end of the thirteenth century, while those upon which the recensio must chiefly be based are of the fourteenth and fifteenth. The number of extant manuscripts, however, especially of the fifteenth century, is not inconsiderable, and knowledge of them has hitherto been far from complete. What is known is known largely in consequence of the labours of Alois Rzach. Rzach collated many of the manuscripts, and tried, with some success, to establish the relationships between them. He published his conclusions in Wiener Studien xix (1897), 15–70, and used them as the basis for his great edition of 1902.

In the sixth mime of Herodas is described a visit by a woman called Metro to her friend Coritto. After an introduction ( I-I 7) largely taken up with abuse of Coritto's slave, Metro comes to the point: she asks, (18–19). Coritto is furious that knowledge of this precious possession has spread so far, and without answering the question asks where Coritto saw it: the reply is, (20–21). Coritto laments the faithlessness of those she thought her friends, but is consoled by Metro, who repeats her question. Coritto now reveals that the craftsman was Cerdon, and describes him and his works: and she was prevented from this last only by the presence of a neighbour's slave. Metro now asks how Coritto got to know Cerdon, and on hearing that it was through Artemeis, she declares her intention of going to see her, to learn more of Cerdon, and departs (95–98). The poem ends with Coritto giving orders for the door to be closed and the hens counted.

Professor G. E. L. OWEN has demonstrated (C.Q. N.S. X [1960], 84 ff.) that Parmenides' Way of Truth is to be taken as a self-contained logical argument. The basis for this argument is a proof that whatever we may choose to think about The first stage of this proof is contained in B 2.

According to Owen's reconstruction of the argument, Parmenides' method is to take the three possible answers to the question (i.e. an unqualified yes; an unqualified no; and a noncommittal answer that some- times we must say yes, sometimes no) and rule out two of them. This view involves giving equal status to each of the two wrong answers; but Parmenides appears not to do this. At the start of B 2 he undertakes to tell us

Tragic allusions to contemporary events are not, as a rule, taken on trust, but the Eumenides of Aeschylus provides three notable exceptions. The view that the Athenian-Argive alliance of 462 B.C. (Thuc. 1. 102. 4, Paus. 4. 24. 6–7) is reflected in Eum. 287–91, 667–73, anc^ 762–74 has won wide acceptance, although no systematic theory of the relation between the drama and the historical context has yet been advanced. If demonstration in detail has been wanting, the view seems to be supported by three general considerations. In the first place, the emphasis put on the dramatic declaration of friendship exceeds the requirements of the plot: the acquittal of Orestes rather than his gesture of gratitude to Athens is the natural climax of this part of the drama, 1–777, and yet the gesture has been considered important enough to be heralded twice before it is actually made in 762–74. Secondly, Orestes' declaration is not limited in duration but binding on his successors in perpetuity; it seems, therefore, to have been deliberately formulated in order to react upon historical fact. Thirdly, in instituting the Council of the Areopagus and dwelling upon the importance of its constitutional function (see especially 681–710), Aeschylus seems to have gone out of his way to pass judgement of some sort on the recent reforms of Ephialtes and Pericles; the theory that he has also appreciated their foreign policy on the tragic stage is thus relieved of some of the obvious practical objections and made inherently more plausible.

I Have argued elsewhere, and still believe, that the Phaedo was written before Plato's first journey to Italy, when the strong Pythagorean influences displayed in that dialogue were reaching him through the Pythagorean centres on the Greek mainland, in particular Phleius and Thebes; and that in the Republic and Phaedrus it is possible to trace equally strong Pythagorean influence but different in detail, because Plato had now come into contact with the Pythagoreans who still remained in Italy, particularly Archytas. The most remarkable of these influences from whatever source was the doctrine of the immortality and transmigration of the soul, which we know to have been held by the earliest Pythagorean society, and the account of the soul's experience in the world below.

The parodos of the Frogs is one of the most controversial passages in Aristophanes. Was it intended to parody the Eleusinian Mystery procession—or some other ritual? A writer wishing to discuss any part of the parodos must first outline his position with regard to this basic problem. I shall therefore as simply and briefly as possible state my own view and the reasons for it before dealing with the specific question posed by the title of the article.

In the myth of the Phaedrus Plato sets forth a picture of the life of discarnate souls in heaven. He represents these souls by the symbol of a winged charioteer driving winged horses. In the case of the souls of the gods (theoi), the charioteers and horses are good (246 a ). In the case of the other souls whom Plato calls daimones, and among whom our own souls are included, the soul is represented by a charioteer with two horses of which the right one is good but the left one evil (246 b ). It is generally agreed that the right and left horses represent thumos and passion respectively, while the charioteer symbolizes reason. Plato goes on to describe a procession which the gods and daimones make up to the outer edge of heaven in order to contemplate the Forms which lie beyond. The gods, we are told, make the ascent easily and when they reach the edge of heaven have no difficulty in staying there and beholding the Forms. The daimones, however, experience difficulty due to the recalcitrance of the evil horse, which all their charioteers possess (247 b Plato divides the daimones into three main groups: those who succeed in beholding the Forms though with difficulty; those whose vision is only partial; those, finally, who fail to see the Forms at all. Since contemplation of the Forms provides the nourishment by which the wings of the soul are nurtured, those daimones who fail to see the Forms at all lose their wings and fall to earth. They have to go through a series of earthly existences for 10,000 years, before they regain their wings and return to heaven.

IN examining Herodotos' account of the Samian tyranny, historians have long been disturbed by two considerations. First, it seems strange that the period of settled tyranny should have begun no earlier than the rise of Polykrates and his two brothers c. 533 B.C., even though Samos was among the most advanced cities in Ionia. Yet it seems equally impossible to revise this accession date in an upward direction, at least by any significant margin. Furthermore, there had been at work in Samos from c. 600 or earlier many of the factors which elsewhere in Ionia did in fact lead to a comparatively stable period of tyranny at that date, for instance at Miletos and Ephesos. Secondly, though Herodotos knows of no tyrant before Polykrates, it has been observed that the policies ascribed to him as characteristic were very largely the continuation of policies initiated a generation or more previously.

The causes and the outbreak of the Corinthian war, as well as the events immediately preceding it, have often been discussed by modern historians. Since the Corinthian war is the first attempt at achieving a new settlement in Greece after the Peloponnesian war and since it brought about new political alliances and the revival of old imperial rivalries, it is not only an episode in the continual warfare among the Greek states, but may also be regarded as a key to the understanding of a part, at least, of the pattern of Greek history in the fourth century B.C.

Thucydides reports that in 414/13, after severe losses in Sicily, Nikias wrote to Athens, asking to be replaced in command and saying that it was necessary either to recall the expedition from the island or to send a new army as a reinforcement. The Athenians, however,

[When the Athenians had heard his letter,] instead of relieving him of his command, chose two members of the force in Sicily, Menandros and Euthydemos, to act as additional commanders until the selection and arrival of other colleagues, so that the position of sole commander would not cause Nikias suffering in his illness. They also voted to send another force, both military and naval, composed of Athenians on the muster-roll and of their allies. After the selection of Demosthenes, the son of Alkisthenes, and Eurymedon, the son of Thoukles, as Nikias' colleagues, they sent Eurymedon forthwith, around the winter solstice, to Sicily with ten ships and one hundred and twenty talents in silver …

Chapters 3 and 4 of Book 80 of Dio Cassius, dealing with the founding of the new Sassanid dynasty in Persia, have to be reconstructed from Xiphilinus on the one hand and the Excerpta Valesiana on the other. Zonaras 12. 15 in turn excerpts Xiphilinus; but Zonaras 12. 15, p. 572. 7–10 B. is not to be found in either of the excerptors of Dio. The words are as follows:

The purpose of this paper is to inquire into the fate of Cleomenes' reforms after his defeat at Sellasia and to show that contrary to the prevailing opinion their main part was not abolished by the victors. It will be necessary to summarize briefly the reforms and to discuss their relation to the patrios politeia of Sparta before we examine their fate after Cleomenes' defeat.

One of the clearest phonological developments of the language of Attic inscriptions of the Hellenistic period down to the end of the second century B.C. is the change . I have studied this phenomenon with particular reference to the period 323–146 B.C., taking into account also the trends before 323 (i.e. between 403 and 323) and after 146 B.C. down to the end of the pre- Christian era. The object of this article is to draw attention to the fact that in only one instance, the relative pronoun, is there not a marked progressive increase in the frequency of at the expense of .

When a poet's work survives only in fragments our judgement of its merit is bound to be strongly influenced by the arrangement given to the fragments by their editors. And yet some superficial indication of the subject-matter is not infrequently seized upon as though it were a sound basis for so responsible an operation, and horror uacui proving stronger than amor ueri, stronger even than desiderium noua docendi, the ill-founded solution is passed on from one edition to the next although it may be wholly out of character with the author's style and may make a great poet appear a wretched hack. An example of this was given in C.Q. N.S. X (1960), 188 f., where the traditional attribution of a commonplace statement to a speech which called for the very opposite of a commonplace was shown to be mistaken. The standard interpretation of the fragment to be discussed here is no less striking as an instance of injustice done to the poet, even more liable to expose him to ridicule, and perhaps of wider interest as a specimen of stylistic indications unduly neglected.

There is a touch of foolhardiness in the attempts to establish a precise identification for the great majority of birds mentioned by the authors of classical antiquity. Only a small minority of the ancient references and descriptions contains features which are indisputably diagnostic, while a probably not much bigger minority of the Mediterranean avifauna possesses characteristics of appearance, behaviour, or voice that would have enabled an ordinary Greek or Roman immediately to distinguish a member of one species from absolutely all others, using the sole aids of his eyes, ears, and the largely inaccurate medley of lore handed down from one generation to the next. Thus any modern attempt to pin down the identity of this or that bird in an ancient author is fraught with many dangers and difficulties which must be recognized at the outset

The argument as far as 205 is simply and clearly laid out by Munro, but later editors have rejected his explanation, and proposed more involved analyses. The first purpose of this paper is to support the simple interpretation and refute later complications.

The only serious difficulty lies in the mention of plants in line 189. Without this line the argument would run as follows. ‘Nothing can move upwards of its own accord’ (184–6). ‘Don&t be misled by the atoms of flames, for they spring into being and take their increase in an upward direction, although all weights, left to themselves, move downwards’ (187–90). ‘Nor must we believe that when fire leaps up to the roofs of houses …, it does so of its own accord’ (191–3). Now the two analogicalarguments: ‘For blood spurts up into the air and timbers leap out of the water, yet everybody agrees that their weights left to themselves move downwards’ (194–202). Now the conclusion repeating the original proposition: ‘This is how it must be that flames too rise, forced out upwards through the air although their weights, left to themselves, move downwards’ (203–5).