The Flavian writers of epic verse took their business seriously enough and seldom permitted themselves anything that might pass for an allusion to contemporary events: so much so that only an ingenuity that runs a risk of being perverse can wrest from them much more than what they have themselves chosen to say in their dedications or invocations. Where the man survived to complete and edit his work, such a dedication, the last thing to be written, more or less bears on its face the date of publication. The proem of the Thebaïs of Statius and the ‘Flavian Panegyric,’ which Silius Italicus inserted in the third book of his Punica thus reveal, to within a year, when the whole of the one and a portion of the other were given to the world, viz. in 91–2 and in 92–3 respectively. With an unfinished work the case is different; indeed, the very presence of that panegyric might sufficeto prove that though Silius had reached the end, in a fashion, when he finished his seventeenth book, he did not truly complete his poem or himself publish it as a whole. In order to determine at what date he got as far with his poem as he ever did, some other source of information is therefore desirable. Similarly with the Argonautica. Valerius Flaccus does not appear to have composed any more than the eight books that have come down to us, nor is he known to have published any part of them save, if at all, by recitation. It is for this reason that the proem, with its invocation of Vespasian, to all appearance as still living, has always been taken to be, not a later insertion, but an integral part of the first book, and thus a clear indication of the date at which Valerius began his task.

It has been common in history for the conqueror or usurper to fortify his position by marrying a daughter of the old line. It was done by Alexander at the beginning of the Hellenistic period, by Herod at the end. There is reason to believe that it was also done both by Ptolemy I. and Seleucus.

Allegorical interpretation of the ancient Greek myths began (as I showed in C.R. XLI., pp. 214–15) not with the grammarians, but with the philosophers. As speculative thought developed, there grew up also the belief that in mystical and symbolic terms the ancient poets had expressed profound truths which were difficult to define in scientifically exact language. Assuming that the myth-makers were concerned to edify and to instruct, the philosophers found in apparent immoralities and impieties a warning that both in offensive and in inoffensive passages one must look beneath the surface for the true significance of the tales. Thus allegory was originally positive, not negative, in its aim; its purpose was not so much to defend the poetic traditions against charges of immorality as to make fully explicit the wealth of doctrine which ex hypothesi the myths contained. Those who wrote to defend the poets could, if they chose, make some use of the results of the allegorical method; passages to which exception had been taken could be shown by allegorical treatment to be quite consistent with the view that the poets were wise and divinely inspired. But the first dim beginnings of allegory can be traced to another and a weightier motive—namely, the desire of speculative thinkers to appropriate for their own use some at least of the mythical traditions. Nor is there any reason to doubt that the same motive was the main driving force in the later history of allegorical interpretation. Objectionable passages were, indeed, regarded as among the richest in deeper meaning; but the leading allegorists applied their method to offensive and inoffensive passages alike.

O.T. 463 sq.BRUHN followed Zielinski (Philol. LV. 523) in adopting είδε from F, and used the variant together with others as establishing the value of Fas an independent source. We have already seen reason for refusing to attach much importance to the authority of this MS. (384), but it should be observed that both readings are recognized by Σ, and the question between εἶπε and είδε must be settled on its merits. Γ itself has πε written over the last syllable of είδε, and Zenodotus read εἲπ for εἰδῇ in Hom. O 207. Zielinski thinks that Eur. Andr. 998 τελουμένων δὲ Δελϕὶς εἲσεται πέτρα is an echo of this passage, but the inference is by no means certain. It may be that the original text of Trin (εἶπέτρα) points to the true solution, that πε fell out by haplography, and the isolated εἶ became εἶσε or ἣδε

Too late for my edition of Propertius, but in time, I hope, to anticipate one criticism of the many that will be aimed at its details, I have detected a serious flaw in my text of his elegy upon Vertumnus (IV. ii.; IV. iii. of my edition). It is not so serious as some of the flaws caused in it by the corruption of our archetype; but instead of helping I have hindered truth in respect of two of the couplets. Now I should like to put forward a correction, which seems to set us in a fair way to recover the authors's pattern, as well as his words, in the second half of the elegy.

In the opening chapter of the Iudicium de Dinarcho Dionysius quotes a passage from the Περì ὁμωνὐμων of Demetrius Magnes, mat the end of which come the words ἧ δέ λὲξις ἐςτί τοῦ Δεινάρχου κυρὶως ἠθική πάθος κινοῦσα σχεδòν τῇ πικρíᾳ μóνον καì τῷ τóνῶ τοὖ Δημοσθθενικοὖ χαρακτῆρος λειπομὲνη τοῦ δέ πιθανοὖ καì κυρíιυ μηδὲν ἐνδέονσα. [I have deliberately omitted all punctuation marks, because the punctuation of this sentence is still doubtful, though I hope to suggest a possible interpretation of its meaning at the end of this article.] Now there is nothing in this sentence or in the words preceding it to indicate beyond all possibility of doubt the precise meaning ofκυρíως ἠθικὴ. And in such circumstances, to allow free play to personal (or perhaps natural) prejudices regarding the significance of thephrase is more than dangerous. The whole problem of ἠθική λὲξις has been treated too cursorily. If one mentions the phrase to a non-professional student of Greek, who, however, has some acquaintance with the Attic orators, he immediately replies: ‘I suppose you mean the sort of thing you meet in Lysias.’ And he is to beexcused, because, after all, that is the predominant meaning of the term. But it has other senses, and therefore one must fight shy of vague statements like that of Finke, who, after quoting the above lines, comment: ‘Demetrius Magnus attribuit ei (sc. Dinarcho)τἡν κυρíαν λὲξιν qua non sit Demosthene inferior’(the last few words of which are possibly not even a correct translation of the text); or of Burgess, who enumerates qualities, ideas, and topics ‘of special value to the epideictic and court orators, ’ among which appears ἠθοποιἷα which he merely translates ‘impersonation or delineation of character, ’ without offering any further comment. Sandys talks of ‘the ethical warmth of colouring, by which the dullest details are lit up with a fresh life and interest.’ Gromska is even more vague (and seems almost to confuse ἦθ∨ς and χαρακτὴρ: ‘Grammatici antiqui, qui de Hyperide tractabant, de eloquentiae eius genere disputabant, orationum Hyperidearum compositionem et ἦθ∨ς respicientes, i.e. quantum in arte rhetorica et oratoria valeret, examinantes.’ In the hope, therefore, of being able to represent the difficulty inherent in these lines, and of attempting to remove it, or at any rate to shed a broader beam of light upon it than has been shed hitherto, I propose to review very briefly the fluctuations of meaning in the life of this phrase and its equivalents, as we find them used in the critical writings of the Greek philosophers and rhetoricians.

In his recent pamphlet on Herodotus the Historian, Friederich Focke has discussed the lion-portent which accompanied the birth of Pericles: έκ δἐ Ίππоκπἁτεоς Μεγακλἑνσ τε Ξλλоσ καὶ ᾈγαπίоτνς, ὶ;ϰλ· ίλπ ταὶ ᾽Αγαριστŋς ίхоυσα τò о;νоѵоνα. ῆ σооνικńσασί τε ξανθίππψ τῷ᾽ Απιφρоνоς καὶ ἔλκυоς éоûα είδε ὄψℓν ἐν τῷ ὕπνῳ. ἐδὁκεε δἐ λἑοντα τεκεῖṿ καὶ υετ᾽ ợλίγας ἡυἑρας τίκτει Пερικλἑα ξανθίππψ. As this is the only occasion on which Herodotus mentions Pericles by name, those critics who are concerned to show that Herodotus was ‘Pericles' man’ have made much of the passage, and have deduced therefrom that Herodotus here means to express all his pent-up admiration for Pericles, which otherwise the scope of his work did not give him an opportunity of displaying. This admiration is at least conveyed in cryptic form, and Focke, following up a hint of Nissen that Pericles is here called a lion ambiguously, combats the view that Herodotus is expressing great reverence for him; and after examining fifth-century parallels, comes to the conclusion that Herodotus was repeating (whether as a mere marvel or with some personal arrière pensée he cannot decide) a tradition that had been set afoot as a purposely ambiguous and derogatory reference to Pericles as a ‘tyrannical man of might.’ After an examination of Focke's evidence, however, I remain unconvinced. It seems possible to account for most of thes quotations which Focke makes by bringing them into line with the ordinary Greek use of leonine symbolism, which, as I shall try to show, was complimentary, not derogatory

The two years which intervened between the consulship of Pompey and Crassus 70 B.C. and the tribunate of Cornelius in 67 B.C. are for the most part neglected in standard histories of the period. It is true that they were uneventful, if by uneventful meant the absence of open hostilities between the two political parties. a careful investigation of the political affiliations of the men who were prominent these years, and of the significance of events which usually are considered of moment, reveals political undercurrents which go far towards explaining meaning, not only of what happened in 67 B.C, but also of the more serious four years later.

Epitrepontes 353–355:

ἐκείνην λήψεται ταύτην [δʹἐγὠἐπεύξ[ομαι τ]ὴν ἒνδον ἀπολείπειν δ μως και νῦν χαριέντως ἐκνενενκέναι δο κῶν τὸ μὴ δι΄ ἐμοῦ ταντι κυκᾶσθαι.