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Thatmox means, or can mean, ‘soon,’ is an assertion which is made often and positively, in works of all sorts, from the ordinary dictionaries, such as Facciolati-Forcellini and Lewis and Short, and valuable writings on lexicography such as Merguet's lexicon to Cicero and Krebs-Schmalz' Antibarbarus, down to the latest little school book at which I have looked. As I had never been able to find a passage in which it clearly and unambiguously had that meaning, in any classical author, I (...) have thought it worth while to examine all the instances in a few good writers, with a view to finding out how they really do use it. (shrink)

The notes of W. S. Maguinness on the Corpus Tibullianum contain several things which strike me as either true or at least highly plausible. In the above passage, however, I think both he and Postgate have missed the point of the first word. Tibullus has been telling the story of how Apollo turned herdsman for love's sake. He insists several times over that it is a story, not a thing he can vouch for. The infinitives in 14 a-c make it (...) sufficiently evident that the lost pentameter began with fertur or dicitur; in 18, Artemis dicitur to have blushed for her brother's unseemly occupation; in 29, fertur that the gods used to serve Venus openly. The same line reminds us that these stories refer to old days, olim. Now comes the couplet in question. (shrink)

‘Lapidem silicem tenebant iuraturi per Iouem, haec uerba dicentes: Si sciens fallo, tum me Dispiter salua urbe arceque bonis eiciat ut ego hunc lapidem.’ I do not propose to add to the mass of commentary and controversy which loads this passage of Paulus Diaconus , except to remind readers that it is a comparatively modern version of a very old formula. Under Dispiter lurks some early shape of the name of Iuppiter, certainly not of the Greek importation Dis, first worshipped (...) in Rome, apparently, in 505/249. I believe it to be older than the end of the regal period, probably much older, for it names the Arx as the important spot in Rome, not the Etruscanizing Capitol. However, this detail and my opinions concerning the oath and its takers matter little for my present purpose. It is enough if it be granted, as I think everyone will grant, that it is ‘eine alte Fetialformel’ as Fraenkel has it, at all events eine alte Formel, more ancient than the surviving literature. (shrink)

So far as I am aware, the commentators on the above passageall say that it is imitated from Euripides, Bacchae 492 sqq., and the commentators on Euripides, loc. cit., agree. It seems to me, however, that there is reason to suppose them all wrong; not of course that there is no connexion between the two passages, for there most obviously is, but that Horace is not imitating the Greek directly, but an imitation or adaptation of it by Pacuvius.

It is not without a certain feeling of surprise that I find the fragment preserved by Strabo VIII. 3, 20, and somewhat doubtfully ascribed by him to Stesichoros, still commonly attributed to that writer. As the purpose of this note is to give what seem to me cogent reasons for holding that no poem of such a metre and content could be by an author of any possible date earlier than Alexandrian times, I cite the passage of Strabo in full. (...) It runs as follows, and is part of an argument for the existence of an ancient city called Samos in Elis. (shrink)

This pretty little work of the obscure Tymnes has recently been examined by A. Wilhelm in the course of a learned attempt to explain the puzzling phrase πολλ πολλν . With the result of his research in general I am not now concerned and the interpretation of this epigram does not greatly affect the value of his conclusions; but it seems worth while to point out what I believe to be the right explanation of a curious and much-emended phrase in (...) the second couplet. (shrink)

The fact that morphological elements characteristically represent several derivational relationships, and any given relationship is typically marked by multiple morphological means has led to an assumption of basic irregularity in derivational phenomena. Creativity in this area, coupled with the limited range of variation and the relatedness of the variants within that range, in both Indonesian and English, suggests a highly constrained system for the expression of cognate noun: verb relationships.

No one has as yet done for Italy what Rohde's Psyche did for Greece, and the reason is not far to seek. Rohde had at his disposal a large amount of literary material, of which no one could doubt that it represented Greek feeling and practice of various ages; but the investigator of the corresponding Italian field is met with a twofold difficulty. He must in the first place discard a great deal of the written records, because they clearly reflect, (...) not native ideas, but those which were common to the ancient world in Hellenistic times. He is then left with a very few scanty documents, which refer, not to Italy as a whole, but practically without exception to Rome, or, at any rate, to districts strongly Romanized. To add to his perplexities, he has a great mass of archaeological evidence for all ages, from the palaeolithic onwards, which, as it is unwritten, he must interpret as best he may, bearing in mind the very wide margin of error in all such attempts, and reconcile, if he can, with what the classical authors tell him. (shrink)

The publication of Dr. Warren E. Blake's edition of the romance of Chariton has at last made it possible to know what the tradition of the text amounts to and form some opinion of its principal weaknesses. That these include lacunae will be obvious to anyone who even glances through his apparatus criticus; I think there are at least three which neither he nor any of the former editors has noted. The supplements I propose are of course mere examples of (...) how they might be filled; their existence seems pretty certain, but no more than the general sense of what is missing is likely to be got unless some new papyrus or other unexpected find puts us in possession of more evidence. (shrink)

It is no longer the fashion to imagine Herodotos a liar when he tells marvellous stories, for some of his most extraordinary statements have long since been shown to contain at least a substantial measure of truth. It is perhaps not sufficiently realized, however, that on occasion he misleads his readers and himself by too much critical unbelief in his materials and consequent application of the crude methods of mythological investigation then current. In other words, he often rationalizes in the (...) only way then possible, superficially altering the story so as to rid himself of the incredible details, or at all events, as I think, attributing to the actors motives which a somewhat drily rational mind could understand and approve or condemn. It is of course well known that at least the former method was a commonplace of the sophists, whose influence on Herodotos is manifest and widespread; it has been said, indeed, that it is much older than they and characteristically Ionic. L. Radermacher finds traces of it in the Odyssey itself and adds that, although we can sometimes catch the rationalizer at work, we cannot be sure of always doing so and ‘müssen annehmen, dass der Glaube an die Geschichtlichkeit ihrer Sage manche griechischen Autoren früh verführt hat, sie geschichtlicher zu erzählen als eigentlich erlaubt war’. This is a true and useful statement. Modern criticism has long learned to set aside ancient allegorizations of myths, about which I need say nothing, for the subject has been repeatedly and well handled by my colleague, Dr. J. Tate; it has often, however, confused ancient interpretation of myth with ancient criticism of saga. Euhemerism indeed is usually recognized for what it is, although even this is not always so; but uixere inepti ante Euhemerum multi, and their efforts are by no means always distinguished either from allegorizing or from real sagas. For an example of the former confusion I may refer to Stallbaum's note on Plato, Phaedrus, 29 C-D, where the reader is referred to the account given by Lobeck of the rise and growth of allegorization. But Plato says nothing at all of allegories in this passage. He quotes, with ironical admiration of its ‘wisdom’, a version of the story of Boreas and Oreithyia according to which she. was knocked off the Areiopagos, or some other place, by a strong north wind, and so was killed and consequently said to have been carried away by Boreas. He adds that it would be a laborious and dismal business to go through all the tales of wonder in that way, rationalizing the Hippocentaurs, Gorgons, Chimaira, Pegasos, and the rest out of existence; a wise saying which was uttered in vain for Palaiphatos and his kind. However, most moderns know a myth from a saga and an allegory from a crude rationalization which accepts the story as true except for the incredibilities and is quite ready to believe, for instance, in Romulus if we will but postulate that he was not snatched up to heaven but murdered and his body hidden. There is a much more subtle snare, consisting of a story which, although rationalized, is well told, and Herodotos in this respect can be a notable offender, for he never tells a story ill. (shrink)