England was probably the first country in Europe to construct a sense of itself as a nation state, but even as it did so the boundaries of native tradition remained uncertain. In the sixteenth century two competing narratives of nationhood are visible, one British and the other Anglo-Saxon (Warner, Spenser, Drayton), and it is the second, more specifically English narrative that comes to supersede the British story (Shakespeare’s histories). Those narratives are complemented in the field of verse form by a further competition between art, represented by classical metres, and nature, represented by native English ‘rhyme’, in which the latter asserts its claims to literary status and value, and history and prosody then converge in the idea of the long line. The achievement of a sense of English national identity in literature is finally constructed as a triumph of nature over art (Daniel).

The second chapter engages an area that should not exist, according to the traditional historiography. If Calvin, as a good evangelical reformer, avoided all entanglements with the tradition by maintaining his sole focus on the scriptures, a chapter that considers tradition and exegesis should be impossible. But the evidence demonstrates that is far from the case. In examinations of Calvin’s Commentaries on Romans and II Corinthians, and his Lectures on Genesis and Daniel, the readers will see an extraordinary array of considerations of the orthodox exegetical traditions. Further, evidence is presented to show moments when Calvin turned away from the plain sense of scripture in order to pursue the “fuller sense” that would allow him to provide the stronger doctrinal teaching – even at the cost of less-strict maintenance of the doctrine of the scriptures. This was carried out across his considerations of both testaments, and in both the earlier and later stages of his career.

Nabopolassar fought with an Assyrian-style army and took the throne of Babylon. Thirteen years later, Nineveh fell despite Egyptian help. Babylon took over much of the Assyrian empire. Later he defeated the last Assyrian king at Harran. His success was seen as Marduk’s revenge. Captured wealth from Assyrian royal cities allowed major building work at Babylon, which was continued by Nabopolassar’s son Nebuchadnezzar II. Neither king left statues of themselves, and cylinder seals represent gods by their symbols. Major subsidence in the citadel required frequent rebuilding on the Southern Palace. The names of temples and gates were compiled on to a clay tablet as a literary work. Colour-glazed bricks adorned the Processional Way leading to the temple of the New Year festival outside the citadel walls. That festival is described. Some of his creations Nebuchadnezzar described as a Wonder, but he made no mention of the Hanging Garden. In a separate part of the citadel, Nebuchadnezzar built a Summer Palace. His conquests included Tyre and Ashkelon but not Egypt or Lydia. He sacked the Temple in Jerusalem and deported its royal family to Babylon. Other captives settled on land nearby. Business archives of long duration continue into the Achaemenid period.

The NT displays the greatest intellectual retrieval of Hebraic thought and literature in antiquity. In this chapter, I explore the idea that the New Testament authors largely favor the Hebraic philosophical style and strategically engage the styles of Jewish-Hellenism and Roman philosophy. Any consideration of the philosophical style of the NT authors must reckon with the Hellenistic styles du jour. Hellenism’s philosophies developed into sophisticated Roman rhetorical forms in the first century, forms in which some of the NT authors might have been steeped. In this chapter, I consider which aspects of Hebraic and Hellenistic philosophical styles the gospel authors employ and possible motivations behind their employments.

Using the question – Can humans naturally infer a creator from created things? – I explore examples of Hellenistic Jewish thinking that hybridizes the Hebraic philosophical style with the Hellenist. Wisdom of Solomon and Philo are compared to Paul's treatmetn of this question in Athens (Acts 17; Rom 1–2). Paul takes a distinctively Hebraic approach while Wisdom and Philo show signs of significant hybridity.

Past studies of the Nero-Antichrist paradigm have tended to focus on whether or not Nero is a plausible Antichrist figure by looking at the characteristics of the Antichrist and deciding whether the Nero we know from classical historiography does or does not fit the role. In doing so, some assume that the biblical writers themselves were thinking primarily of Nero, the same Nero with whom we are now familiar through the historiographical tradition, when composing their works. Left unexplored is the possibility that the Nero link was phase of the reception of biblical texts in late antiquity and not programmed into the texts themselves. This chapter investigates the problem of whether the historical Nero is in the Bible at all, and argues that the Bible’s Antichrist figures do not bear enough of a similarity to the historical Nero to warrant the assumption of intent on the part of its authors.

A volume on the Bible and literature affords an opportunity to explore the conjunction of these terms in relation to a writer whose great work Moby-Dick (1851) – the story of the hunting-down of a white whale by an obsessed sea captain – came to have, after Melville’s lifetime, a mythic role for his nation and for the Western world. Melville’s life (1819–91) spanned the nineteenth century and he was one of its outstanding thinkers. His work throughout is profoundly influenced by biblical texts. This essay, noting the influence of the Wisdom books of the Old Testament, highlights both their capacity to help Melville think through the problems of his age, and their influence on his understanding of the power of story and the capacities of language. After a brief account of Melville’s formative years, the essay considers a long passage from Moby-Dick for the complexity of its resonances with Ecclesiastes and Proverbs. A discussion of the role of Wisdom in Melville’s long dramatic poem Clarel follows, with emphasis on the book of Job. A late sketch, “Daniel Orme” offers, through the figure of Daniel, material for a final reflection on Melville’s role as thinker and visionary for his society.

The essay contributes to the scholarly conversation about apocalyptic literature by emending the definition of the genre to take into account the ancient rhetorical techniques the apocalyptic authors use, namely, vivid visual rhetoric. The essay considers the facets of genre, audience, and style, three of the literary elements of ancient apocalyptic literature essential for understanding the Biblical texts. The heart of the essay looks at the main texts of apocalyptic literature in the Bible, Daniel, Mark 13, and Revelation. In looking at them the focus is on storytelling, why the authors told the story in a certain way and what effects this mode of communication might have had on each audience’s political, economic, and social outlook. The discussion about the Biblical materials paves the way for thinking about the way they are used in art, contemporary literature, media, politics, and even religious pilgrimage sights.