The art of cookery drew us gently forthFrom that ferocious life, when void of faithThe Anthropophaginian ate his brother!To cookery we owe well-order'd states,Assembling men in dear society.Wild was the earth, man feasting upon man,When one of nobler sense and milder heartFirst sacrificed an animal; the fleshWas sweet; and man then ceased to feed on man!And something of the rudeness of those timesThe priest commemorates; for to this dayHe roasts the victim's entrails without salt.In those dark times, beneath the earth lay hidThe precious salt, that gold of cookery!But when its particles the palate thrill'd,The source of seasonings, charm of cookery! came.They served a paunch with rich ingredients stored;And tender kid, within two covering plates,Warm melted in the mouth. So art improved!At length a miracle not yet perform'd,They minced the meat, which roll'd in herbage soft,Nor meat nor herbage seem'd, but to the eye,And to the taste, the counterfeited dishMimick'd some curious fish; invention rare!Then every dish was season'd more and more,Salted, or sour, or sweet, and mingled oftOatmeal and honey. To enjoy the mealMen congregated in the populous towns,And cities flourish'd, which we cooks adorn'dWith all the pleasures of domestic life.—D'Israeli.
The art of cookery drew us gently forthFrom that ferocious life, when void of faithThe Anthropophaginian ate his brother!To cookery we owe well-order'd states,Assembling men in dear society.Wild was the earth, man feasting upon man,When one of nobler sense and milder heartFirst sacrificed an animal; the fleshWas sweet; and man then ceased to feed on man!And something of the rudeness of those timesThe priest commemorates; for to this dayHe roasts the victim's entrails without salt.In those dark times, beneath the earth lay hidThe precious salt, that gold of cookery!But when its particles the palate thrill'd,The source of seasonings, charm of cookery! came.They served a paunch with rich ingredients stored;And tender kid, within two covering plates,Warm melted in the mouth. So art improved!At length a miracle not yet perform'd,They minced the meat, which roll'd in herbage soft,Nor meat nor herbage seem'd, but to the eye,And to the taste, the counterfeited dishMimick'd some curious fish; invention rare!Then every dish was season'd more and more,Salted, or sour, or sweet, and mingled oftOatmeal and honey. To enjoy the mealMen congregated in the populous towns,And cities flourish'd, which we cooks adorn'dWith all the pleasures of domestic life.—D'Israeli.
The art of cookery drew us gently forthFrom that ferocious life, when void of faithThe Anthropophaginian ate his brother!To cookery we owe well-order'd states,Assembling men in dear society.Wild was the earth, man feasting upon man,When one of nobler sense and milder heartFirst sacrificed an animal; the fleshWas sweet; and man then ceased to feed on man!And something of the rudeness of those timesThe priest commemorates; for to this dayHe roasts the victim's entrails without salt.In those dark times, beneath the earth lay hidThe precious salt, that gold of cookery!But when its particles the palate thrill'd,The source of seasonings, charm of cookery! came.They served a paunch with rich ingredients stored;And tender kid, within two covering plates,Warm melted in the mouth. So art improved!At length a miracle not yet perform'd,They minced the meat, which roll'd in herbage soft,Nor meat nor herbage seem'd, but to the eye,And to the taste, the counterfeited dishMimick'd some curious fish; invention rare!Then every dish was season'd more and more,Salted, or sour, or sweet, and mingled oftOatmeal and honey. To enjoy the mealMen congregated in the populous towns,And cities flourish'd, which we cooks adorn'dWith all the pleasures of domestic life.—D'Israeli.
The art of cookery drew us gently forthFrom that ferocious life, when void of faithThe Anthropophaginian ate his brother!To cookery we owe well-order'd states,Assembling men in dear society.Wild was the earth, man feasting upon man,When one of nobler sense and milder heartFirst sacrificed an animal; the fleshWas sweet; and man then ceased to feed on man!And something of the rudeness of those timesThe priest commemorates; for to this dayHe roasts the victim's entrails without salt.In those dark times, beneath the earth lay hidThe precious salt, that gold of cookery!But when its particles the palate thrill'd,The source of seasonings, charm of cookery! came.They served a paunch with rich ingredients stored;And tender kid, within two covering plates,Warm melted in the mouth. So art improved!At length a miracle not yet perform'd,They minced the meat, which roll'd in herbage soft,Nor meat nor herbage seem'd, but to the eye,And to the taste, the counterfeited dishMimick'd some curious fish; invention rare!Then every dish was season'd more and more,Salted, or sour, or sweet, and mingled oftOatmeal and honey. To enjoy the mealMen congregated in the populous towns,And cities flourish'd, which we cooks adorn'dWith all the pleasures of domestic life.—D'Israeli.
The art of cookery drew us gently forth
From that ferocious life, when void of faith
The Anthropophaginian ate his brother!
To cookery we owe well-order'd states,
Assembling men in dear society.
Wild was the earth, man feasting upon man,
When one of nobler sense and milder heart
First sacrificed an animal; the flesh
Was sweet; and man then ceased to feed on man!
And something of the rudeness of those times
The priest commemorates; for to this day
He roasts the victim's entrails without salt.
In those dark times, beneath the earth lay hid
The precious salt, that gold of cookery!
But when its particles the palate thrill'd,
The source of seasonings, charm of cookery! came.
They served a paunch with rich ingredients stored;
And tender kid, within two covering plates,
Warm melted in the mouth. So art improved!
At length a miracle not yet perform'd,
They minced the meat, which roll'd in herbage soft,
Nor meat nor herbage seem'd, but to the eye,
And to the taste, the counterfeited dish
Mimick'd some curious fish; invention rare!
Then every dish was season'd more and more,
Salted, or sour, or sweet, and mingled oft
Oatmeal and honey. To enjoy the meal
Men congregated in the populous towns,
And cities flourish'd, which we cooks adorn'd
With all the pleasures of domestic life.—D'Israeli.
The same.
Cook.Do you not know that cookery has broughtMore aids to piety than aught besides?Slave.What? is the matter thus?Cook.Yes, you Barbarian!It freed us from a beast-like, faithless life,And hateful cannibalism, and introduced usTo order, and enclosed us in the worldWhere we now live.Slave.How?Cook.Listen, and I'll tell you.When cannibalism and many other crimesWere rife, a certain man, who was no fool,Slaughter'd a victim and then roasted it.So, when they found its flesh nicer than man's flesh,They did not eat each other any longer,But sacrificed their beasts and roasted them.And when they once had tasted of this pleasure,And a beginning had been made, they carriedTo greater heights the art of cookery.Hence, from remembrance of the past, men roastE'en to the present day the gods' meat-offeringsWithout employing salt; for in olden timesIt had not yet been used for such a purpose;So when their taste changed afterwards, they ateSalt also with their meat, still strictly keepingTheir fathers' custom in the rites prescribed them.All which new ingenuity, and raisingTo greater heights the art of cookery,By means of sauces, has alone becomeThe cause of safety unto all of us.Slave.This fellow is a fresh Palæphatus!Cook.Then, after this, as time was now advancing,One person introduced a season'd haggis;Another stew'd a kid right exquisitely,Or made some mince-meat, or slipp'd in a fishDisguised so quaintly that no eye observed it,Or greens, or pickled fish, or wheat, or honey.When through the pleasures that I'm now explaining,Each man was far removed from ever wishingTo eat a portion of a human corpse;They all agreed to live with one another—A populace collected—towns were built—All through the cooking art, as I have shown.Slave.Good-bye; you fit your master to a wrinkle.Cook.It is we cooks who clip the victim's hair,And sacrifice, and offer up libations,Because the gods attend to us especially,As it was we who made these great discoveries,Which tend especially towards holy living.Slave.Pray leave off talking about piety!Cook.I beg your pardon. Come and take a snackAlong with me, and get the things prepared.—Anon.
Cook.Do you not know that cookery has broughtMore aids to piety than aught besides?Slave.What? is the matter thus?Cook.Yes, you Barbarian!It freed us from a beast-like, faithless life,And hateful cannibalism, and introduced usTo order, and enclosed us in the worldWhere we now live.Slave.How?Cook.Listen, and I'll tell you.When cannibalism and many other crimesWere rife, a certain man, who was no fool,Slaughter'd a victim and then roasted it.So, when they found its flesh nicer than man's flesh,They did not eat each other any longer,But sacrificed their beasts and roasted them.And when they once had tasted of this pleasure,And a beginning had been made, they carriedTo greater heights the art of cookery.Hence, from remembrance of the past, men roastE'en to the present day the gods' meat-offeringsWithout employing salt; for in olden timesIt had not yet been used for such a purpose;So when their taste changed afterwards, they ateSalt also with their meat, still strictly keepingTheir fathers' custom in the rites prescribed them.All which new ingenuity, and raisingTo greater heights the art of cookery,By means of sauces, has alone becomeThe cause of safety unto all of us.Slave.This fellow is a fresh Palæphatus!Cook.Then, after this, as time was now advancing,One person introduced a season'd haggis;Another stew'd a kid right exquisitely,Or made some mince-meat, or slipp'd in a fishDisguised so quaintly that no eye observed it,Or greens, or pickled fish, or wheat, or honey.When through the pleasures that I'm now explaining,Each man was far removed from ever wishingTo eat a portion of a human corpse;They all agreed to live with one another—A populace collected—towns were built—All through the cooking art, as I have shown.Slave.Good-bye; you fit your master to a wrinkle.Cook.It is we cooks who clip the victim's hair,And sacrifice, and offer up libations,Because the gods attend to us especially,As it was we who made these great discoveries,Which tend especially towards holy living.Slave.Pray leave off talking about piety!Cook.I beg your pardon. Come and take a snackAlong with me, and get the things prepared.—Anon.
Cook.Do you not know that cookery has broughtMore aids to piety than aught besides?Slave.What? is the matter thus?Cook.Yes, you Barbarian!It freed us from a beast-like, faithless life,And hateful cannibalism, and introduced usTo order, and enclosed us in the worldWhere we now live.Slave.How?Cook.Listen, and I'll tell you.When cannibalism and many other crimesWere rife, a certain man, who was no fool,Slaughter'd a victim and then roasted it.So, when they found its flesh nicer than man's flesh,They did not eat each other any longer,But sacrificed their beasts and roasted them.And when they once had tasted of this pleasure,And a beginning had been made, they carriedTo greater heights the art of cookery.Hence, from remembrance of the past, men roastE'en to the present day the gods' meat-offeringsWithout employing salt; for in olden timesIt had not yet been used for such a purpose;So when their taste changed afterwards, they ateSalt also with their meat, still strictly keepingTheir fathers' custom in the rites prescribed them.All which new ingenuity, and raisingTo greater heights the art of cookery,By means of sauces, has alone becomeThe cause of safety unto all of us.Slave.This fellow is a fresh Palæphatus!Cook.Then, after this, as time was now advancing,One person introduced a season'd haggis;Another stew'd a kid right exquisitely,Or made some mince-meat, or slipp'd in a fishDisguised so quaintly that no eye observed it,Or greens, or pickled fish, or wheat, or honey.When through the pleasures that I'm now explaining,Each man was far removed from ever wishingTo eat a portion of a human corpse;They all agreed to live with one another—A populace collected—towns were built—All through the cooking art, as I have shown.Slave.Good-bye; you fit your master to a wrinkle.Cook.It is we cooks who clip the victim's hair,And sacrifice, and offer up libations,Because the gods attend to us especially,As it was we who made these great discoveries,Which tend especially towards holy living.Slave.Pray leave off talking about piety!Cook.I beg your pardon. Come and take a snackAlong with me, and get the things prepared.—Anon.
Cook.Do you not know that cookery has broughtMore aids to piety than aught besides?Slave.What? is the matter thus?Cook.Yes, you Barbarian!It freed us from a beast-like, faithless life,And hateful cannibalism, and introduced usTo order, and enclosed us in the worldWhere we now live.Slave.How?Cook.Listen, and I'll tell you.When cannibalism and many other crimesWere rife, a certain man, who was no fool,Slaughter'd a victim and then roasted it.So, when they found its flesh nicer than man's flesh,They did not eat each other any longer,But sacrificed their beasts and roasted them.And when they once had tasted of this pleasure,And a beginning had been made, they carriedTo greater heights the art of cookery.Hence, from remembrance of the past, men roastE'en to the present day the gods' meat-offeringsWithout employing salt; for in olden timesIt had not yet been used for such a purpose;So when their taste changed afterwards, they ateSalt also with their meat, still strictly keepingTheir fathers' custom in the rites prescribed them.All which new ingenuity, and raisingTo greater heights the art of cookery,By means of sauces, has alone becomeThe cause of safety unto all of us.Slave.This fellow is a fresh Palæphatus!Cook.Then, after this, as time was now advancing,One person introduced a season'd haggis;Another stew'd a kid right exquisitely,Or made some mince-meat, or slipp'd in a fishDisguised so quaintly that no eye observed it,Or greens, or pickled fish, or wheat, or honey.When through the pleasures that I'm now explaining,Each man was far removed from ever wishingTo eat a portion of a human corpse;They all agreed to live with one another—A populace collected—towns were built—All through the cooking art, as I have shown.Slave.Good-bye; you fit your master to a wrinkle.Cook.It is we cooks who clip the victim's hair,And sacrifice, and offer up libations,Because the gods attend to us especially,As it was we who made these great discoveries,Which tend especially towards holy living.Slave.Pray leave off talking about piety!Cook.I beg your pardon. Come and take a snackAlong with me, and get the things prepared.—Anon.
Cook.Do you not know that cookery has brought
More aids to piety than aught besides?
Slave.What? is the matter thus?
Cook.Yes, you Barbarian!
It freed us from a beast-like, faithless life,
And hateful cannibalism, and introduced us
To order, and enclosed us in the world
Where we now live.
Slave.How?
Cook.Listen, and I'll tell you.
When cannibalism and many other crimes
Were rife, a certain man, who was no fool,
Slaughter'd a victim and then roasted it.
So, when they found its flesh nicer than man's flesh,
They did not eat each other any longer,
But sacrificed their beasts and roasted them.
And when they once had tasted of this pleasure,
And a beginning had been made, they carried
To greater heights the art of cookery.
Hence, from remembrance of the past, men roast
E'en to the present day the gods' meat-offerings
Without employing salt; for in olden times
It had not yet been used for such a purpose;
So when their taste changed afterwards, they ate
Salt also with their meat, still strictly keeping
Their fathers' custom in the rites prescribed them.
All which new ingenuity, and raising
To greater heights the art of cookery,
By means of sauces, has alone become
The cause of safety unto all of us.
Slave.This fellow is a fresh Palæphatus!
Cook.Then, after this, as time was now advancing,
One person introduced a season'd haggis;
Another stew'd a kid right exquisitely,
Or made some mince-meat, or slipp'd in a fish
Disguised so quaintly that no eye observed it,
Or greens, or pickled fish, or wheat, or honey.
When through the pleasures that I'm now explaining,
Each man was far removed from ever wishing
To eat a portion of a human corpse;
They all agreed to live with one another—
A populace collected—towns were built—
All through the cooking art, as I have shown.
Slave.Good-bye; you fit your master to a wrinkle.
Cook.It is we cooks who clip the victim's hair,
And sacrifice, and offer up libations,
Because the gods attend to us especially,
As it was we who made these great discoveries,
Which tend especially towards holy living.
Slave.Pray leave off talking about piety!
Cook.I beg your pardon. Come and take a snack
Along with me, and get the things prepared.—Anon.
Cratinus.(Book xiv. § 81, p. 1057.)
On the light wring of Zephyr that thitherward blows,What a dainty perfume has invaded my nose;And sure in yon copse, if we carefully look,Dwells a dealer in scents, or Sicilian cook!—W. J. B.
On the light wring of Zephyr that thitherward blows,What a dainty perfume has invaded my nose;And sure in yon copse, if we carefully look,Dwells a dealer in scents, or Sicilian cook!—W. J. B.
On the light wring of Zephyr that thitherward blows,What a dainty perfume has invaded my nose;And sure in yon copse, if we carefully look,Dwells a dealer in scents, or Sicilian cook!—W. J. B.
On the light wring of Zephyr that thitherward blows,What a dainty perfume has invaded my nose;And sure in yon copse, if we carefully look,Dwells a dealer in scents, or Sicilian cook!—W. J. B.
On the light wring of Zephyr that thitherward blows,
What a dainty perfume has invaded my nose;
And sure in yon copse, if we carefully look,
Dwells a dealer in scents, or Sicilian cook!—W. J. B.
Bato.(Book xiv. § 81, p. 1058.)
Good, good, Sibynna!Ours is no art for sluggards to acquire,Nor should the hour of deepest midnight seeUs and our volumes parted:—still our lampUpon its oil is feeding, and the pageOf ancient lore before us:—What, what hathThe Sicyonian deduced?—What school-pointsHave we from him of Chios? sagest ActidesAnd Zopyrinus, what are their traditions?—Thus grapple we with mighty tomes of wisdom,Sifting and weighing and digesting all.—Anon.
Good, good, Sibynna!Ours is no art for sluggards to acquire,Nor should the hour of deepest midnight seeUs and our volumes parted:—still our lampUpon its oil is feeding, and the pageOf ancient lore before us:—What, what hathThe Sicyonian deduced?—What school-pointsHave we from him of Chios? sagest ActidesAnd Zopyrinus, what are their traditions?—Thus grapple we with mighty tomes of wisdom,Sifting and weighing and digesting all.—Anon.
Good, good, Sibynna!Ours is no art for sluggards to acquire,Nor should the hour of deepest midnight seeUs and our volumes parted:—still our lampUpon its oil is feeding, and the pageOf ancient lore before us:—What, what hathThe Sicyonian deduced?—What school-pointsHave we from him of Chios? sagest ActidesAnd Zopyrinus, what are their traditions?—Thus grapple we with mighty tomes of wisdom,Sifting and weighing and digesting all.—Anon.
Good, good, Sibynna!Ours is no art for sluggards to acquire,Nor should the hour of deepest midnight seeUs and our volumes parted:—still our lampUpon its oil is feeding, and the pageOf ancient lore before us:—What, what hathThe Sicyonian deduced?—What school-pointsHave we from him of Chios? sagest ActidesAnd Zopyrinus, what are their traditions?—Thus grapple we with mighty tomes of wisdom,Sifting and weighing and digesting all.—Anon.
Good, good, Sibynna!
Ours is no art for sluggards to acquire,
Nor should the hour of deepest midnight see
Us and our volumes parted:—still our lamp
Upon its oil is feeding, and the page
Of ancient lore before us:—What, what hath
The Sicyonian deduced?—What school-points
Have we from him of Chios? sagest Actides
And Zopyrinus, what are their traditions?—
Thus grapple we with mighty tomes of wisdom,
Sifting and weighing and digesting all.—Anon.
Amphis.(Book xv. § 42, p. 1103.)
A.Milesian hangings line your walls, you scentYour limbs with sweetest perfume, royal myndaxPiled on the burning censer fills the airWith costly fragrance.B.Mark you that, my friend!Knew you before of such a fumigation?—J. A. St. John.
A.Milesian hangings line your walls, you scentYour limbs with sweetest perfume, royal myndaxPiled on the burning censer fills the airWith costly fragrance.B.Mark you that, my friend!Knew you before of such a fumigation?—J. A. St. John.
A.Milesian hangings line your walls, you scentYour limbs with sweetest perfume, royal myndaxPiled on the burning censer fills the airWith costly fragrance.B.Mark you that, my friend!Knew you before of such a fumigation?—J. A. St. John.
A.Milesian hangings line your walls, you scentYour limbs with sweetest perfume, royal myndaxPiled on the burning censer fills the airWith costly fragrance.B.Mark you that, my friend!Knew you before of such a fumigation?—J. A. St. John.
A.Milesian hangings line your walls, you scent
Your limbs with sweetest perfume, royal myndax
Piled on the burning censer fills the air
With costly fragrance.
B.Mark you that, my friend!
Knew you before of such a fumigation?—J. A. St. John.
Alexis.(Book xv. § 44, p. 1105.)
Nor fellHis perfumes from a box of alabaster;That were too trite a fancy, and had savour'dO' the elder time—but ever and anonHe slipp'd four doves, whose wings were saturateWith scents, all different in kind—each birdBearing its own appropriate sweets:—these doves,Wheeling in circles round, let fall upon usA shower of sweet perfumery, drenching, bathingBoth clothes and furniture—and lordlings all—I deprecate your envy, when I add,That on myself fell floods of violet odours .—Mitchell.
Nor fellHis perfumes from a box of alabaster;That were too trite a fancy, and had savour'dO' the elder time—but ever and anonHe slipp'd four doves, whose wings were saturateWith scents, all different in kind—each birdBearing its own appropriate sweets:—these doves,Wheeling in circles round, let fall upon usA shower of sweet perfumery, drenching, bathingBoth clothes and furniture—and lordlings all—I deprecate your envy, when I add,That on myself fell floods of violet odours .—Mitchell.
Nor fellHis perfumes from a box of alabaster;That were too trite a fancy, and had savour'dO' the elder time—but ever and anonHe slipp'd four doves, whose wings were saturateWith scents, all different in kind—each birdBearing its own appropriate sweets:—these doves,Wheeling in circles round, let fall upon usA shower of sweet perfumery, drenching, bathingBoth clothes and furniture—and lordlings all—I deprecate your envy, when I add,That on myself fell floods of violet odours .—Mitchell.
Nor fellHis perfumes from a box of alabaster;That were too trite a fancy, and had savour'dO' the elder time—but ever and anonHe slipp'd four doves, whose wings were saturateWith scents, all different in kind—each birdBearing its own appropriate sweets:—these doves,Wheeling in circles round, let fall upon usA shower of sweet perfumery, drenching, bathingBoth clothes and furniture—and lordlings all—I deprecate your envy, when I add,That on myself fell floods of violet odours .—Mitchell.
Nor fell
His perfumes from a box of alabaster;
That were too trite a fancy, and had savour'd
O' the elder time—but ever and anon
He slipp'd four doves, whose wings were saturate
With scents, all different in kind—each bird
Bearing its own appropriate sweets:—these doves,
Wheeling in circles round, let fall upon us
A shower of sweet perfumery, drenching, bathing
Both clothes and furniture—and lordlings all—
I deprecate your envy, when I add,
That on myself fell floods of violet odours .—Mitchell.
Simonides.(Book xv. § 50, p. 1110.)
Oh! Health, it is the choicest boon Heaven can send us,And Beauty's arms, bright and keen, deck and defend us;Next follows honest Wealth—riches abounding—And Youth's pleasant holidays—friendship surrounding. —D. K. Sandford.
Oh! Health, it is the choicest boon Heaven can send us,And Beauty's arms, bright and keen, deck and defend us;Next follows honest Wealth—riches abounding—And Youth's pleasant holidays—friendship surrounding. —D. K. Sandford.
Oh! Health, it is the choicest boon Heaven can send us,And Beauty's arms, bright and keen, deck and defend us;Next follows honest Wealth—riches abounding—And Youth's pleasant holidays—friendship surrounding. —D. K. Sandford.
Oh! Health, it is the choicest boon Heaven can send us,And Beauty's arms, bright and keen, deck and defend us;Next follows honest Wealth—riches abounding—And Youth's pleasant holidays—friendship surrounding. —D. K. Sandford.
Oh! Health, it is the choicest boon Heaven can send us,
And Beauty's arms, bright and keen, deck and defend us;
Next follows honest Wealth—riches abounding—
And Youth's pleasant holidays—friendship surrounding. —D. K. Sandford.
(Book xv. § 50, p. 1110.)
With his claw the snake surprising,Thus the crab kept moralizing:—"Out on sidelong turns and graces,Straight's the word for honest paces!" —D. K. Sandford.
With his claw the snake surprising,Thus the crab kept moralizing:—"Out on sidelong turns and graces,Straight's the word for honest paces!" —D. K. Sandford.
With his claw the snake surprising,Thus the crab kept moralizing:—"Out on sidelong turns and graces,Straight's the word for honest paces!" —D. K. Sandford.
With his claw the snake surprising,Thus the crab kept moralizing:—"Out on sidelong turns and graces,Straight's the word for honest paces!" —D. K. Sandford.
With his claw the snake surprising,
Thus the crab kept moralizing:—
"Out on sidelong turns and graces,
Straight's the word for honest paces!" —D. K. Sandford.
Callistratus.(Book xv. § 50, p. 1111.)
Wreathed with myrtles be my glaive.Like the falchion of the brave,Death to Athens' lord that gave.Death to tyranny!Yes! let myrtle wreaths be roundSuch as then the falchion bound,When with deeds the feast was crown'dDone for liberty!Voiced by Fame eternally,Noble pair! your names shall be,For the stroke that made us free,When the tyrant fell.Death, Harmodius! came not near thee,Isles of bliss and brightness cheer thee,There heroic breasts revere thee,There the mighty dwell! —D. K. Sandford.
Wreathed with myrtles be my glaive.Like the falchion of the brave,Death to Athens' lord that gave.Death to tyranny!Yes! let myrtle wreaths be roundSuch as then the falchion bound,When with deeds the feast was crown'dDone for liberty!Voiced by Fame eternally,Noble pair! your names shall be,For the stroke that made us free,When the tyrant fell.Death, Harmodius! came not near thee,Isles of bliss and brightness cheer thee,There heroic breasts revere thee,There the mighty dwell! —D. K. Sandford.
Wreathed with myrtles be my glaive.Like the falchion of the brave,Death to Athens' lord that gave.Death to tyranny!Yes! let myrtle wreaths be roundSuch as then the falchion bound,When with deeds the feast was crown'dDone for liberty!Voiced by Fame eternally,Noble pair! your names shall be,For the stroke that made us free,When the tyrant fell.Death, Harmodius! came not near thee,Isles of bliss and brightness cheer thee,There heroic breasts revere thee,There the mighty dwell! —D. K. Sandford.
Wreathed with myrtles be my glaive.Like the falchion of the brave,Death to Athens' lord that gave.Death to tyranny!Yes! let myrtle wreaths be roundSuch as then the falchion bound,When with deeds the feast was crown'dDone for liberty!Voiced by Fame eternally,Noble pair! your names shall be,For the stroke that made us free,When the tyrant fell.Death, Harmodius! came not near thee,Isles of bliss and brightness cheer thee,There heroic breasts revere thee,There the mighty dwell! —D. K. Sandford.
Wreathed with myrtles be my glaive.
Like the falchion of the brave,
Death to Athens' lord that gave.
Death to tyranny!
Yes! let myrtle wreaths be round
Such as then the falchion bound,
When with deeds the feast was crown'd
Done for liberty!
Voiced by Fame eternally,
Noble pair! your names shall be,
For the stroke that made us free,
When the tyrant fell.
Death, Harmodius! came not near thee,
Isles of bliss and brightness cheer thee,
There heroic breasts revere thee,
There the mighty dwell! —D. K. Sandford.
The same.
With myrtle-wreathed I'll wear my sword,As when ye slew the tyrant lord,And made Athenian freedom brighten;Harmodius and Aristogiton!Thou art not dead—it is confess'd—But haunt'st the Islands of the Blest,—Beloved Harmodius!—where Pelides,The swift-heel'd, dwells, and brave Tydides.With myrtle-wreathed I'll wear my sword,As when ye slew the tyrant lordHipparchus, Pallas' festal night on;Harmodius and Aristogiton!Because ye slew the tyrant, andGave Athens freedom, through the landYour flashing fame shall ever lighten;Harmodius and Aristogiton! —Walsh.
With myrtle-wreathed I'll wear my sword,As when ye slew the tyrant lord,And made Athenian freedom brighten;Harmodius and Aristogiton!Thou art not dead—it is confess'd—But haunt'st the Islands of the Blest,—Beloved Harmodius!—where Pelides,The swift-heel'd, dwells, and brave Tydides.With myrtle-wreathed I'll wear my sword,As when ye slew the tyrant lordHipparchus, Pallas' festal night on;Harmodius and Aristogiton!Because ye slew the tyrant, andGave Athens freedom, through the landYour flashing fame shall ever lighten;Harmodius and Aristogiton! —Walsh.
With myrtle-wreathed I'll wear my sword,As when ye slew the tyrant lord,And made Athenian freedom brighten;Harmodius and Aristogiton!Thou art not dead—it is confess'd—But haunt'st the Islands of the Blest,—Beloved Harmodius!—where Pelides,The swift-heel'd, dwells, and brave Tydides.With myrtle-wreathed I'll wear my sword,As when ye slew the tyrant lordHipparchus, Pallas' festal night on;Harmodius and Aristogiton!Because ye slew the tyrant, andGave Athens freedom, through the landYour flashing fame shall ever lighten;Harmodius and Aristogiton! —Walsh.
With myrtle-wreathed I'll wear my sword,As when ye slew the tyrant lord,And made Athenian freedom brighten;Harmodius and Aristogiton!Thou art not dead—it is confess'd—But haunt'st the Islands of the Blest,—Beloved Harmodius!—where Pelides,The swift-heel'd, dwells, and brave Tydides.With myrtle-wreathed I'll wear my sword,As when ye slew the tyrant lordHipparchus, Pallas' festal night on;Harmodius and Aristogiton!Because ye slew the tyrant, andGave Athens freedom, through the landYour flashing fame shall ever lighten;Harmodius and Aristogiton! —Walsh.
With myrtle-wreathed I'll wear my sword,
As when ye slew the tyrant lord,
And made Athenian freedom brighten;
Harmodius and Aristogiton!
Thou art not dead—it is confess'd—
But haunt'st the Islands of the Blest,—
Beloved Harmodius!—where Pelides,
The swift-heel'd, dwells, and brave Tydides.
With myrtle-wreathed I'll wear my sword,
As when ye slew the tyrant lord
Hipparchus, Pallas' festal night on;
Harmodius and Aristogiton!
Because ye slew the tyrant, and
Gave Athens freedom, through the land
Your flashing fame shall ever lighten;
Harmodius and Aristogiton! —Walsh.
The same.
I'll wreathe my sword in myrtle-bough,The sword that laid the tyrant low,When patriots, burning to be free,To Athens gave equality.Harmodius, hail! though 'reft of breath,Thou ne'er shalt feel the stroke of death;The heroes' happy isles shall beThe bright abode allotted thee.I'll wreathe my sword in myrtle-bough,The sword that laid Hipparchus low,When at Athena's adverse faneHe knelt, and never rose again.While Freedom's name is understood,You shall delight the wise and good;You dared to set your country free,And gave her laws equality. —Bland.
I'll wreathe my sword in myrtle-bough,The sword that laid the tyrant low,When patriots, burning to be free,To Athens gave equality.Harmodius, hail! though 'reft of breath,Thou ne'er shalt feel the stroke of death;The heroes' happy isles shall beThe bright abode allotted thee.I'll wreathe my sword in myrtle-bough,The sword that laid Hipparchus low,When at Athena's adverse faneHe knelt, and never rose again.While Freedom's name is understood,You shall delight the wise and good;You dared to set your country free,And gave her laws equality. —Bland.
I'll wreathe my sword in myrtle-bough,The sword that laid the tyrant low,When patriots, burning to be free,To Athens gave equality.Harmodius, hail! though 'reft of breath,Thou ne'er shalt feel the stroke of death;The heroes' happy isles shall beThe bright abode allotted thee.I'll wreathe my sword in myrtle-bough,The sword that laid Hipparchus low,When at Athena's adverse faneHe knelt, and never rose again.While Freedom's name is understood,You shall delight the wise and good;You dared to set your country free,And gave her laws equality. —Bland.
I'll wreathe my sword in myrtle-bough,The sword that laid the tyrant low,When patriots, burning to be free,To Athens gave equality.Harmodius, hail! though 'reft of breath,Thou ne'er shalt feel the stroke of death;The heroes' happy isles shall beThe bright abode allotted thee.I'll wreathe my sword in myrtle-bough,The sword that laid Hipparchus low,When at Athena's adverse faneHe knelt, and never rose again.While Freedom's name is understood,You shall delight the wise and good;You dared to set your country free,And gave her laws equality. —Bland.
I'll wreathe my sword in myrtle-bough,
The sword that laid the tyrant low,
When patriots, burning to be free,
To Athens gave equality.
Harmodius, hail! though 'reft of breath,
Thou ne'er shalt feel the stroke of death;
The heroes' happy isles shall be
The bright abode allotted thee.
I'll wreathe my sword in myrtle-bough,
The sword that laid Hipparchus low,
When at Athena's adverse fane
He knelt, and never rose again.
While Freedom's name is understood,
You shall delight the wise and good;
You dared to set your country free,
And gave her laws equality. —Bland.
The same.
In myrtle my sword will I wreathe,Like our patriots the noble and brave,Who devoted the tyrant to death,And to Athens equality gave.Loved Harmodius, thou never shalt die!The poets exultingly tellThat thine is the fulness of joyWhere Achilles and Diomed dwell.In myrtle my sword will I wreathe,Like our patriots the noble and brave,Who devoted Hipparchus to death,And buried his pride in the grave.At the altar the tyrant they seized,While Athena he vainly implored.And the Goddess of Wisdom was pleasedWith the victim of Liberty's sword.May your bliss be immortal on high.Among men as your glory shall be!Ye doom'd the usurper to die,And bade our dear country be free. —D.
In myrtle my sword will I wreathe,Like our patriots the noble and brave,Who devoted the tyrant to death,And to Athens equality gave.Loved Harmodius, thou never shalt die!The poets exultingly tellThat thine is the fulness of joyWhere Achilles and Diomed dwell.In myrtle my sword will I wreathe,Like our patriots the noble and brave,Who devoted Hipparchus to death,And buried his pride in the grave.At the altar the tyrant they seized,While Athena he vainly implored.And the Goddess of Wisdom was pleasedWith the victim of Liberty's sword.May your bliss be immortal on high.Among men as your glory shall be!Ye doom'd the usurper to die,And bade our dear country be free. —D.
In myrtle my sword will I wreathe,Like our patriots the noble and brave,Who devoted the tyrant to death,And to Athens equality gave.Loved Harmodius, thou never shalt die!The poets exultingly tellThat thine is the fulness of joyWhere Achilles and Diomed dwell.In myrtle my sword will I wreathe,Like our patriots the noble and brave,Who devoted Hipparchus to death,And buried his pride in the grave.At the altar the tyrant they seized,While Athena he vainly implored.And the Goddess of Wisdom was pleasedWith the victim of Liberty's sword.May your bliss be immortal on high.Among men as your glory shall be!Ye doom'd the usurper to die,And bade our dear country be free. —D.
In myrtle my sword will I wreathe,Like our patriots the noble and brave,Who devoted the tyrant to death,And to Athens equality gave.Loved Harmodius, thou never shalt die!The poets exultingly tellThat thine is the fulness of joyWhere Achilles and Diomed dwell.In myrtle my sword will I wreathe,Like our patriots the noble and brave,Who devoted Hipparchus to death,And buried his pride in the grave.At the altar the tyrant they seized,While Athena he vainly implored.And the Goddess of Wisdom was pleasedWith the victim of Liberty's sword.May your bliss be immortal on high.Among men as your glory shall be!Ye doom'd the usurper to die,And bade our dear country be free. —D.
In myrtle my sword will I wreathe,
Like our patriots the noble and brave,
Who devoted the tyrant to death,
And to Athens equality gave.
Loved Harmodius, thou never shalt die!
The poets exultingly tell
That thine is the fulness of joy
Where Achilles and Diomed dwell.
In myrtle my sword will I wreathe,
Like our patriots the noble and brave,
Who devoted Hipparchus to death,
And buried his pride in the grave.
At the altar the tyrant they seized,
While Athena he vainly implored.
And the Goddess of Wisdom was pleased
With the victim of Liberty's sword.
May your bliss be immortal on high.
Among men as your glory shall be!
Ye doom'd the usurper to die,
And bade our dear country be free. —D.
The same.
In myrtles veil'd will I the falchion wear;For thus the patriot swordHarmodius and Aristogeiton bare,When they the tyrant's bosom gored;And bade the men of Athens beRegenerate in equality.Oh, beloved Harmodius! neverShall death be thine, who liv'st for ever!Thy shade, as men have told, inheritsThe islands of the blessed spirits;Where deathless live the glorious dead;Achilles fleet of foot, and Diomed.In myrtles veil'd will I the falchion wear;For thus the patriot swordHarmodius and Aristogeiton bare,When they the tyrant's bosom goredWhen, in Minerva's festal rite,They closed Hipparchus' eyes in night.Harmodius' praise, Aristogeiton's name,Shall bloom on earth with undecaying fame;Who, with the myrtle-wreathed sword,The tyrant's bosom gored;And bade the men of Athens beRegenerate in equality. —Elton.
In myrtles veil'd will I the falchion wear;For thus the patriot swordHarmodius and Aristogeiton bare,When they the tyrant's bosom gored;And bade the men of Athens beRegenerate in equality.Oh, beloved Harmodius! neverShall death be thine, who liv'st for ever!Thy shade, as men have told, inheritsThe islands of the blessed spirits;Where deathless live the glorious dead;Achilles fleet of foot, and Diomed.In myrtles veil'd will I the falchion wear;For thus the patriot swordHarmodius and Aristogeiton bare,When they the tyrant's bosom goredWhen, in Minerva's festal rite,They closed Hipparchus' eyes in night.Harmodius' praise, Aristogeiton's name,Shall bloom on earth with undecaying fame;Who, with the myrtle-wreathed sword,The tyrant's bosom gored;And bade the men of Athens beRegenerate in equality. —Elton.
In myrtles veil'd will I the falchion wear;For thus the patriot swordHarmodius and Aristogeiton bare,When they the tyrant's bosom gored;And bade the men of Athens beRegenerate in equality.Oh, beloved Harmodius! neverShall death be thine, who liv'st for ever!Thy shade, as men have told, inheritsThe islands of the blessed spirits;Where deathless live the glorious dead;Achilles fleet of foot, and Diomed.In myrtles veil'd will I the falchion wear;For thus the patriot swordHarmodius and Aristogeiton bare,When they the tyrant's bosom goredWhen, in Minerva's festal rite,They closed Hipparchus' eyes in night.Harmodius' praise, Aristogeiton's name,Shall bloom on earth with undecaying fame;Who, with the myrtle-wreathed sword,The tyrant's bosom gored;And bade the men of Athens beRegenerate in equality. —Elton.
In myrtles veil'd will I the falchion wear;For thus the patriot swordHarmodius and Aristogeiton bare,When they the tyrant's bosom gored;And bade the men of Athens beRegenerate in equality.Oh, beloved Harmodius! neverShall death be thine, who liv'st for ever!Thy shade, as men have told, inheritsThe islands of the blessed spirits;Where deathless live the glorious dead;Achilles fleet of foot, and Diomed.In myrtles veil'd will I the falchion wear;For thus the patriot swordHarmodius and Aristogeiton bare,When they the tyrant's bosom goredWhen, in Minerva's festal rite,They closed Hipparchus' eyes in night.Harmodius' praise, Aristogeiton's name,Shall bloom on earth with undecaying fame;Who, with the myrtle-wreathed sword,The tyrant's bosom gored;And bade the men of Athens beRegenerate in equality. —Elton.
In myrtles veil'd will I the falchion wear;
For thus the patriot sword
Harmodius and Aristogeiton bare,
When they the tyrant's bosom gored;
And bade the men of Athens be
Regenerate in equality.
Oh, beloved Harmodius! never
Shall death be thine, who liv'st for ever!
Thy shade, as men have told, inherits
The islands of the blessed spirits;
Where deathless live the glorious dead;
Achilles fleet of foot, and Diomed.
In myrtles veil'd will I the falchion wear;
For thus the patriot sword
Harmodius and Aristogeiton bare,
When they the tyrant's bosom gored
When, in Minerva's festal rite,
They closed Hipparchus' eyes in night.
Harmodius' praise, Aristogeiton's name,
Shall bloom on earth with undecaying fame;
Who, with the myrtle-wreathed sword,
The tyrant's bosom gored;
And bade the men of Athens be
Regenerate in equality. —Elton.
Hybrias.(Book xv. § 50, p. 1112.)
My wealth is here—the sword, the spear, the breast-defending shield;With this I plough, with this I sow, with this I reap the field;With this I tread the luscious grape, and drink the blood-red wine;And slaves around in order wait, and all are counted mine!But he that will not rear the lance upon the battle-field,Nor sway the sword, nor stand behind the breast-defending shield,On lowly knee must worship me, with servile kiss adored,And peal the cry of homage high, and hail me mighty Lord! —D. K. Sandford.
My wealth is here—the sword, the spear, the breast-defending shield;With this I plough, with this I sow, with this I reap the field;With this I tread the luscious grape, and drink the blood-red wine;And slaves around in order wait, and all are counted mine!But he that will not rear the lance upon the battle-field,Nor sway the sword, nor stand behind the breast-defending shield,On lowly knee must worship me, with servile kiss adored,And peal the cry of homage high, and hail me mighty Lord! —D. K. Sandford.
My wealth is here—the sword, the spear, the breast-defending shield;With this I plough, with this I sow, with this I reap the field;With this I tread the luscious grape, and drink the blood-red wine;And slaves around in order wait, and all are counted mine!But he that will not rear the lance upon the battle-field,Nor sway the sword, nor stand behind the breast-defending shield,On lowly knee must worship me, with servile kiss adored,And peal the cry of homage high, and hail me mighty Lord! —D. K. Sandford.
My wealth is here—the sword, the spear, the breast-defending shield;With this I plough, with this I sow, with this I reap the field;With this I tread the luscious grape, and drink the blood-red wine;And slaves around in order wait, and all are counted mine!But he that will not rear the lance upon the battle-field,Nor sway the sword, nor stand behind the breast-defending shield,On lowly knee must worship me, with servile kiss adored,And peal the cry of homage high, and hail me mighty Lord! —D. K. Sandford.
My wealth is here—the sword, the spear, the breast-defending shield;
With this I plough, with this I sow, with this I reap the field;
With this I tread the luscious grape, and drink the blood-red wine;
And slaves around in order wait, and all are counted mine!
But he that will not rear the lance upon the battle-field,
Nor sway the sword, nor stand behind the breast-defending shield,
On lowly knee must worship me, with servile kiss adored,
And peal the cry of homage high, and hail me mighty Lord! —D. K. Sandford.
The same.
My riches are the arms I wield,The spear, the sword, the shaggy shield,My bulwark in the battle-field:With this I plough the furrow'd soil,With this I share the reaper's toil,With this I press the generous juiceThat rich and sunny vines produce;With these, of rule and high commandI bear the mandate in my hand;For while the slave and coward fearTo wield the buckler, sword, and spear,They bend the supplicating knee,And own my just supremacy. —Merivale.
My riches are the arms I wield,The spear, the sword, the shaggy shield,My bulwark in the battle-field:With this I plough the furrow'd soil,With this I share the reaper's toil,With this I press the generous juiceThat rich and sunny vines produce;With these, of rule and high commandI bear the mandate in my hand;For while the slave and coward fearTo wield the buckler, sword, and spear,They bend the supplicating knee,And own my just supremacy. —Merivale.
My riches are the arms I wield,The spear, the sword, the shaggy shield,My bulwark in the battle-field:With this I plough the furrow'd soil,With this I share the reaper's toil,With this I press the generous juiceThat rich and sunny vines produce;With these, of rule and high commandI bear the mandate in my hand;For while the slave and coward fearTo wield the buckler, sword, and spear,They bend the supplicating knee,And own my just supremacy. —Merivale.
My riches are the arms I wield,The spear, the sword, the shaggy shield,My bulwark in the battle-field:With this I plough the furrow'd soil,With this I share the reaper's toil,With this I press the generous juiceThat rich and sunny vines produce;With these, of rule and high commandI bear the mandate in my hand;For while the slave and coward fearTo wield the buckler, sword, and spear,They bend the supplicating knee,And own my just supremacy. —Merivale.
My riches are the arms I wield,
The spear, the sword, the shaggy shield,
My bulwark in the battle-field:
With this I plough the furrow'd soil,
With this I share the reaper's toil,
With this I press the generous juice
That rich and sunny vines produce;
With these, of rule and high command
I bear the mandate in my hand;
For while the slave and coward fear
To wield the buckler, sword, and spear,
They bend the supplicating knee,
And own my just supremacy. —Merivale.
The same.
Great riches have I in my spear and sword,And hairy shield, like a rampart thrownBefore me in war; for by these I am lordOf the fields where the golden harvests are grown;And by these I press forth the red red wine,While the Mnotæ around salute me king;Approaching, trembling, these knees of mine,With the dread which the spear and the falchion bring. —J. A. St. John.
Great riches have I in my spear and sword,And hairy shield, like a rampart thrownBefore me in war; for by these I am lordOf the fields where the golden harvests are grown;And by these I press forth the red red wine,While the Mnotæ around salute me king;Approaching, trembling, these knees of mine,With the dread which the spear and the falchion bring. —J. A. St. John.
Great riches have I in my spear and sword,And hairy shield, like a rampart thrownBefore me in war; for by these I am lordOf the fields where the golden harvests are grown;And by these I press forth the red red wine,While the Mnotæ around salute me king;Approaching, trembling, these knees of mine,With the dread which the spear and the falchion bring. —J. A. St. John.
Great riches have I in my spear and sword,And hairy shield, like a rampart thrownBefore me in war; for by these I am lordOf the fields where the golden harvests are grown;And by these I press forth the red red wine,While the Mnotæ around salute me king;Approaching, trembling, these knees of mine,With the dread which the spear and the falchion bring. —J. A. St. John.
Great riches have I in my spear and sword,
And hairy shield, like a rampart thrown
Before me in war; for by these I am lord
Of the fields where the golden harvests are grown;
And by these I press forth the red red wine,
While the Mnotæ around salute me king;
Approaching, trembling, these knees of mine,
With the dread which the spear and the falchion bring. —J. A. St. John.
Aristotle.(Book xv. § 51, p. 1113.)
O sought with toil and mortal strifeBy those of human birth,Virtue, thou noblest end of life,Thou goodliest gain on earth!Thee, Maid, to win, our youth would bear,Unwearied, fiery pains; and dareDeath for thy beauty's worth;So bright thy proffer'd honours shine,Like clusters of a fruit divine,Sweeter than slumber's boasted joys,And more desired than gold,Dearer than nature's dearest ties:—For thee those heroes old,Herculean son of highest Jove,And the twin-birth of Leda, stroveBy perils manifold:Pelides' son with like desire,And Ajax, sought the Stygian fire.The bard shall crown with lasting bay,And age immortal makeAtarna's sovereign, 'reft of dayFor thy dear beauty's sake:Him therefore the recording NineIn songs extol to heights divine,And every chord awake;Promoting still, with reverence due,The meed of friendship, tried and true. —Bland.
O sought with toil and mortal strifeBy those of human birth,Virtue, thou noblest end of life,Thou goodliest gain on earth!Thee, Maid, to win, our youth would bear,Unwearied, fiery pains; and dareDeath for thy beauty's worth;So bright thy proffer'd honours shine,Like clusters of a fruit divine,Sweeter than slumber's boasted joys,And more desired than gold,Dearer than nature's dearest ties:—For thee those heroes old,Herculean son of highest Jove,And the twin-birth of Leda, stroveBy perils manifold:Pelides' son with like desire,And Ajax, sought the Stygian fire.The bard shall crown with lasting bay,And age immortal makeAtarna's sovereign, 'reft of dayFor thy dear beauty's sake:Him therefore the recording NineIn songs extol to heights divine,And every chord awake;Promoting still, with reverence due,The meed of friendship, tried and true. —Bland.
O sought with toil and mortal strifeBy those of human birth,Virtue, thou noblest end of life,Thou goodliest gain on earth!Thee, Maid, to win, our youth would bear,Unwearied, fiery pains; and dareDeath for thy beauty's worth;So bright thy proffer'd honours shine,Like clusters of a fruit divine,Sweeter than slumber's boasted joys,And more desired than gold,Dearer than nature's dearest ties:—For thee those heroes old,Herculean son of highest Jove,And the twin-birth of Leda, stroveBy perils manifold:Pelides' son with like desire,And Ajax, sought the Stygian fire.The bard shall crown with lasting bay,And age immortal makeAtarna's sovereign, 'reft of dayFor thy dear beauty's sake:Him therefore the recording NineIn songs extol to heights divine,And every chord awake;Promoting still, with reverence due,The meed of friendship, tried and true. —Bland.
O sought with toil and mortal strifeBy those of human birth,Virtue, thou noblest end of life,Thou goodliest gain on earth!Thee, Maid, to win, our youth would bear,Unwearied, fiery pains; and dareDeath for thy beauty's worth;So bright thy proffer'd honours shine,Like clusters of a fruit divine,Sweeter than slumber's boasted joys,And more desired than gold,Dearer than nature's dearest ties:—For thee those heroes old,Herculean son of highest Jove,And the twin-birth of Leda, stroveBy perils manifold:Pelides' son with like desire,And Ajax, sought the Stygian fire.The bard shall crown with lasting bay,And age immortal makeAtarna's sovereign, 'reft of dayFor thy dear beauty's sake:Him therefore the recording NineIn songs extol to heights divine,And every chord awake;Promoting still, with reverence due,The meed of friendship, tried and true. —Bland.
O sought with toil and mortal strife
By those of human birth,
Virtue, thou noblest end of life,
Thou goodliest gain on earth!
Thee, Maid, to win, our youth would bear,
Unwearied, fiery pains; and dare
Death for thy beauty's worth;
So bright thy proffer'd honours shine,
Like clusters of a fruit divine,
Sweeter than slumber's boasted joys,
And more desired than gold,
Dearer than nature's dearest ties:—
For thee those heroes old,
Herculean son of highest Jove,
And the twin-birth of Leda, strove
By perils manifold:
Pelides' son with like desire,
And Ajax, sought the Stygian fire.
The bard shall crown with lasting bay,
And age immortal make
Atarna's sovereign, 'reft of day
For thy dear beauty's sake:
Him therefore the recording Nine
In songs extol to heights divine,
And every chord awake;
Promoting still, with reverence due,
The meed of friendship, tried and true. —Bland.
The same.
Oh! danger-seeking Glory, through the spanOf life the best and highest aim of man:Say, have not Greeks, to win thy love, in fightBraved hottest perils, found in death delight?E'en Leda's twins, when felt thy dart than deathKeener, than gold more potent, than the breathOf balmy sleep more grateful, with hearts fix'dBy glory's charms, undaunted and untiredTo honour march'd? Nor with less eager paceAlcides battled on in glory's race;For love of thee Achilles sought his doom;For love of thee, 'round Ajax came the gloomOf madness and of death; for thee, of lightTh' Atarnean's eyeballs widow'd sunk in night,Him, therefore, shall the muse, by poet's power,Though mortal make immortal. Glory's hourFlits not from such: who hand and heart have givenTo crown, with honours due, the child of heaven. —G. Burges.
Oh! danger-seeking Glory, through the spanOf life the best and highest aim of man:Say, have not Greeks, to win thy love, in fightBraved hottest perils, found in death delight?E'en Leda's twins, when felt thy dart than deathKeener, than gold more potent, than the breathOf balmy sleep more grateful, with hearts fix'dBy glory's charms, undaunted and untiredTo honour march'd? Nor with less eager paceAlcides battled on in glory's race;For love of thee Achilles sought his doom;For love of thee, 'round Ajax came the gloomOf madness and of death; for thee, of lightTh' Atarnean's eyeballs widow'd sunk in night,Him, therefore, shall the muse, by poet's power,Though mortal make immortal. Glory's hourFlits not from such: who hand and heart have givenTo crown, with honours due, the child of heaven. —G. Burges.
Oh! danger-seeking Glory, through the spanOf life the best and highest aim of man:Say, have not Greeks, to win thy love, in fightBraved hottest perils, found in death delight?E'en Leda's twins, when felt thy dart than deathKeener, than gold more potent, than the breathOf balmy sleep more grateful, with hearts fix'dBy glory's charms, undaunted and untiredTo honour march'd? Nor with less eager paceAlcides battled on in glory's race;For love of thee Achilles sought his doom;For love of thee, 'round Ajax came the gloomOf madness and of death; for thee, of lightTh' Atarnean's eyeballs widow'd sunk in night,Him, therefore, shall the muse, by poet's power,Though mortal make immortal. Glory's hourFlits not from such: who hand and heart have givenTo crown, with honours due, the child of heaven. —G. Burges.
Oh! danger-seeking Glory, through the spanOf life the best and highest aim of man:Say, have not Greeks, to win thy love, in fightBraved hottest perils, found in death delight?E'en Leda's twins, when felt thy dart than deathKeener, than gold more potent, than the breathOf balmy sleep more grateful, with hearts fix'dBy glory's charms, undaunted and untiredTo honour march'd? Nor with less eager paceAlcides battled on in glory's race;For love of thee Achilles sought his doom;For love of thee, 'round Ajax came the gloomOf madness and of death; for thee, of lightTh' Atarnean's eyeballs widow'd sunk in night,Him, therefore, shall the muse, by poet's power,Though mortal make immortal. Glory's hourFlits not from such: who hand and heart have givenTo crown, with honours due, the child of heaven. —G. Burges.
Oh! danger-seeking Glory, through the span
Of life the best and highest aim of man:
Say, have not Greeks, to win thy love, in fight
Braved hottest perils, found in death delight?
E'en Leda's twins, when felt thy dart than death
Keener, than gold more potent, than the breath
Of balmy sleep more grateful, with hearts fix'd
By glory's charms, undaunted and untired
To honour march'd? Nor with less eager pace
Alcides battled on in glory's race;
For love of thee Achilles sought his doom;
For love of thee, 'round Ajax came the gloom
Of madness and of death; for thee, of light
Th' Atarnean's eyeballs widow'd sunk in night,
Him, therefore, shall the muse, by poet's power,
Though mortal make immortal. Glory's hour
Flits not from such: who hand and heart have given
To crown, with honours due, the child of heaven. —G. Burges.
Ariphron.(Book xv. § 63, p. 1122.)
Health! supreme of heavenly powers,Let my verse our fortunes tell—Mine with thee to spend the hours,Thine with me in league to dwell.If bright gold be worth a prayer,If the pledge of love we prize,If the regal crown and chairMatch celestial destinies—If sweet joys and stolen treasuresVenus' furtive nets enclose,If divinely-granted pleasuresYield a breathing-space from woes—Thine the glory, thine the zest!Thine the Spring's eternal bloom!Man has all, of thee possest,Dark, without thee, lowers his doom. —D. K. Sandford.
Health! supreme of heavenly powers,Let my verse our fortunes tell—Mine with thee to spend the hours,Thine with me in league to dwell.If bright gold be worth a prayer,If the pledge of love we prize,If the regal crown and chairMatch celestial destinies—If sweet joys and stolen treasuresVenus' furtive nets enclose,If divinely-granted pleasuresYield a breathing-space from woes—Thine the glory, thine the zest!Thine the Spring's eternal bloom!Man has all, of thee possest,Dark, without thee, lowers his doom. —D. K. Sandford.
Health! supreme of heavenly powers,Let my verse our fortunes tell—Mine with thee to spend the hours,Thine with me in league to dwell.If bright gold be worth a prayer,If the pledge of love we prize,If the regal crown and chairMatch celestial destinies—If sweet joys and stolen treasuresVenus' furtive nets enclose,If divinely-granted pleasuresYield a breathing-space from woes—Thine the glory, thine the zest!Thine the Spring's eternal bloom!Man has all, of thee possest,Dark, without thee, lowers his doom. —D. K. Sandford.
Health! supreme of heavenly powers,Let my verse our fortunes tell—Mine with thee to spend the hours,Thine with me in league to dwell.If bright gold be worth a prayer,If the pledge of love we prize,If the regal crown and chairMatch celestial destinies—If sweet joys and stolen treasuresVenus' furtive nets enclose,If divinely-granted pleasuresYield a breathing-space from woes—Thine the glory, thine the zest!Thine the Spring's eternal bloom!Man has all, of thee possest,Dark, without thee, lowers his doom. —D. K. Sandford.
Health! supreme of heavenly powers,
Let my verse our fortunes tell—
Mine with thee to spend the hours,
Thine with me in league to dwell.
If bright gold be worth a prayer,
If the pledge of love we prize,
If the regal crown and chair
Match celestial destinies—
If sweet joys and stolen treasures
Venus' furtive nets enclose,
If divinely-granted pleasures
Yield a breathing-space from woes—
Thine the glory, thine the zest!
Thine the Spring's eternal bloom!
Man has all, of thee possest,
Dark, without thee, lowers his doom. —D. K. Sandford.
The same.
Health, brightest visitant from Heaven,Grant me with thee to rest!For the short term by nature given,Be thou my constant guest!For all the pride that wealth bestows,The pleasure that from children flows,Whate'er we court in regal stateThat makes men covet to be great;Whatever sweet we hope to findIn love's delightful snares,Whatever good by Heaven assign'd,Whatever pause from cares,—All flourish at thy smile divine;The spring of loveliness is thine,And every joy that warms our heartsWith thee approaches and departs. —Bland.
Health, brightest visitant from Heaven,Grant me with thee to rest!For the short term by nature given,Be thou my constant guest!For all the pride that wealth bestows,The pleasure that from children flows,Whate'er we court in regal stateThat makes men covet to be great;Whatever sweet we hope to findIn love's delightful snares,Whatever good by Heaven assign'd,Whatever pause from cares,—All flourish at thy smile divine;The spring of loveliness is thine,And every joy that warms our heartsWith thee approaches and departs. —Bland.
Health, brightest visitant from Heaven,Grant me with thee to rest!For the short term by nature given,Be thou my constant guest!For all the pride that wealth bestows,The pleasure that from children flows,Whate'er we court in regal stateThat makes men covet to be great;Whatever sweet we hope to findIn love's delightful snares,Whatever good by Heaven assign'd,Whatever pause from cares,—All flourish at thy smile divine;The spring of loveliness is thine,And every joy that warms our heartsWith thee approaches and departs. —Bland.
Health, brightest visitant from Heaven,Grant me with thee to rest!For the short term by nature given,Be thou my constant guest!For all the pride that wealth bestows,The pleasure that from children flows,Whate'er we court in regal stateThat makes men covet to be great;Whatever sweet we hope to findIn love's delightful snares,Whatever good by Heaven assign'd,Whatever pause from cares,—All flourish at thy smile divine;The spring of loveliness is thine,And every joy that warms our heartsWith thee approaches and departs. —Bland.
Health, brightest visitant from Heaven,
Grant me with thee to rest!
For the short term by nature given,
Be thou my constant guest!
For all the pride that wealth bestows,
The pleasure that from children flows,
Whate'er we court in regal state
That makes men covet to be great;
Whatever sweet we hope to find
In love's delightful snares,
Whatever good by Heaven assign'd,
Whatever pause from cares,—
All flourish at thy smile divine;
The spring of loveliness is thine,
And every joy that warms our hearts
With thee approaches and departs. —Bland.
The same.
Oh! holiest Health, all other gods excelling,May I be ever blestWith thy kind favour, and in life's poor dwellingBe thou, I pray, my constant guest.If aught of charm or grace to mortal lingersRound wealth or kingly sway,Or children's happy faces in their play,Or those sweet bands, which Aphrodite's fingersWeave round the trusting heart,Or whatsoever joy or breathing-spaceKind Heaven hath given to worn humanity—Thine is the charm, to thee they owe the grace.Life's chaplet blossoms only wherethouart,And pleasure's year attains its sunny spring;And where thy smile is not, our joy is but a sigh. —E. B. C.
Oh! holiest Health, all other gods excelling,May I be ever blestWith thy kind favour, and in life's poor dwellingBe thou, I pray, my constant guest.If aught of charm or grace to mortal lingersRound wealth or kingly sway,Or children's happy faces in their play,Or those sweet bands, which Aphrodite's fingersWeave round the trusting heart,Or whatsoever joy or breathing-spaceKind Heaven hath given to worn humanity—Thine is the charm, to thee they owe the grace.Life's chaplet blossoms only wherethouart,And pleasure's year attains its sunny spring;And where thy smile is not, our joy is but a sigh. —E. B. C.
Oh! holiest Health, all other gods excelling,May I be ever blestWith thy kind favour, and in life's poor dwellingBe thou, I pray, my constant guest.If aught of charm or grace to mortal lingersRound wealth or kingly sway,Or children's happy faces in their play,Or those sweet bands, which Aphrodite's fingersWeave round the trusting heart,Or whatsoever joy or breathing-spaceKind Heaven hath given to worn humanity—Thine is the charm, to thee they owe the grace.Life's chaplet blossoms only wherethouart,And pleasure's year attains its sunny spring;And where thy smile is not, our joy is but a sigh. —E. B. C.
Oh! holiest Health, all other gods excelling,May I be ever blestWith thy kind favour, and in life's poor dwellingBe thou, I pray, my constant guest.If aught of charm or grace to mortal lingersRound wealth or kingly sway,Or children's happy faces in their play,Or those sweet bands, which Aphrodite's fingersWeave round the trusting heart,Or whatsoever joy or breathing-spaceKind Heaven hath given to worn humanity—Thine is the charm, to thee they owe the grace.Life's chaplet blossoms only wherethouart,And pleasure's year attains its sunny spring;And where thy smile is not, our joy is but a sigh. —E. B. C.
Oh! holiest Health, all other gods excelling,
May I be ever blest
With thy kind favour, and in life's poor dwelling
Be thou, I pray, my constant guest.
If aught of charm or grace to mortal lingers
Round wealth or kingly sway,
Or children's happy faces in their play,
Or those sweet bands, which Aphrodite's fingers
Weave round the trusting heart,
Or whatsoever joy or breathing-space
Kind Heaven hath given to worn humanity—
Thine is the charm, to thee they owe the grace.
Life's chaplet blossoms only wherethouart,
And pleasure's year attains its sunny spring;
And where thy smile is not, our joy is but a sigh. —E. B. C.
Philemon.(Book vii. § 32, p. 453.)
Cook.A longing seizes me to come and tellTo earth and heaven, how I dress'd the dinner.By Pallas, but 'tis pleasant to succeedIn every point! How tender was my fish!How nice I served it up, not drugg'd with cheese,Nor brown'd above! It look'd the same exactly,When roasted, as it did when still alive.So delicate and mild a fire I gave itTo cook it, that you'll scarcely credit me.Just as a hen, when she has seized on somethingToo large to swallow at a single mouthful,Runs round and round, and holds it tight, and longsTo gulp it down, while others follow her;So the first guest that felt my fish's flavourLeapt from his couch, and fled around the room,Holding the dish, while others chased a-stern.One might have raised the sacred cry, as ifIt was a miracle; for some of themSnatch'd something, others nothing, others all.Yet they had only given me to dressSome paltry river-fish that feed on mud.If I had had a sea-char, or a turbotFrom Athens—Zeus the Saver!—or a boar-fishFrom Argos, or from darling SicyonThat fish which Neptune carries up to HeavenTo feast the Immortals with—the conger-eel;Then all who ate it would have turn'd to gods.I have discover'd theelixir vitæ;Those who are dead already, when they've smeltOne of my dishes, come to life again. —Anon.
Cook.A longing seizes me to come and tellTo earth and heaven, how I dress'd the dinner.By Pallas, but 'tis pleasant to succeedIn every point! How tender was my fish!How nice I served it up, not drugg'd with cheese,Nor brown'd above! It look'd the same exactly,When roasted, as it did when still alive.So delicate and mild a fire I gave itTo cook it, that you'll scarcely credit me.Just as a hen, when she has seized on somethingToo large to swallow at a single mouthful,Runs round and round, and holds it tight, and longsTo gulp it down, while others follow her;So the first guest that felt my fish's flavourLeapt from his couch, and fled around the room,Holding the dish, while others chased a-stern.One might have raised the sacred cry, as ifIt was a miracle; for some of themSnatch'd something, others nothing, others all.Yet they had only given me to dressSome paltry river-fish that feed on mud.If I had had a sea-char, or a turbotFrom Athens—Zeus the Saver!—or a boar-fishFrom Argos, or from darling SicyonThat fish which Neptune carries up to HeavenTo feast the Immortals with—the conger-eel;Then all who ate it would have turn'd to gods.I have discover'd theelixir vitæ;Those who are dead already, when they've smeltOne of my dishes, come to life again. —Anon.
Cook.A longing seizes me to come and tellTo earth and heaven, how I dress'd the dinner.By Pallas, but 'tis pleasant to succeedIn every point! How tender was my fish!How nice I served it up, not drugg'd with cheese,Nor brown'd above! It look'd the same exactly,When roasted, as it did when still alive.So delicate and mild a fire I gave itTo cook it, that you'll scarcely credit me.Just as a hen, when she has seized on somethingToo large to swallow at a single mouthful,Runs round and round, and holds it tight, and longsTo gulp it down, while others follow her;So the first guest that felt my fish's flavourLeapt from his couch, and fled around the room,Holding the dish, while others chased a-stern.One might have raised the sacred cry, as ifIt was a miracle; for some of themSnatch'd something, others nothing, others all.Yet they had only given me to dressSome paltry river-fish that feed on mud.If I had had a sea-char, or a turbotFrom Athens—Zeus the Saver!—or a boar-fishFrom Argos, or from darling SicyonThat fish which Neptune carries up to HeavenTo feast the Immortals with—the conger-eel;Then all who ate it would have turn'd to gods.I have discover'd theelixir vitæ;Those who are dead already, when they've smeltOne of my dishes, come to life again. —Anon.
Cook.A longing seizes me to come and tellTo earth and heaven, how I dress'd the dinner.By Pallas, but 'tis pleasant to succeedIn every point! How tender was my fish!How nice I served it up, not drugg'd with cheese,Nor brown'd above! It look'd the same exactly,When roasted, as it did when still alive.So delicate and mild a fire I gave itTo cook it, that you'll scarcely credit me.Just as a hen, when she has seized on somethingToo large to swallow at a single mouthful,Runs round and round, and holds it tight, and longsTo gulp it down, while others follow her;So the first guest that felt my fish's flavourLeapt from his couch, and fled around the room,Holding the dish, while others chased a-stern.One might have raised the sacred cry, as ifIt was a miracle; for some of themSnatch'd something, others nothing, others all.Yet they had only given me to dressSome paltry river-fish that feed on mud.If I had had a sea-char, or a turbotFrom Athens—Zeus the Saver!—or a boar-fishFrom Argos, or from darling SicyonThat fish which Neptune carries up to HeavenTo feast the Immortals with—the conger-eel;Then all who ate it would have turn'd to gods.I have discover'd theelixir vitæ;Those who are dead already, when they've smeltOne of my dishes, come to life again. —Anon.
Cook.A longing seizes me to come and tell
To earth and heaven, how I dress'd the dinner.
By Pallas, but 'tis pleasant to succeed
In every point! How tender was my fish!
How nice I served it up, not drugg'd with cheese,
Nor brown'd above! It look'd the same exactly,
When roasted, as it did when still alive.
So delicate and mild a fire I gave it
To cook it, that you'll scarcely credit me.
Just as a hen, when she has seized on something
Too large to swallow at a single mouthful,
Runs round and round, and holds it tight, and longs
To gulp it down, while others follow her;
So the first guest that felt my fish's flavour
Leapt from his couch, and fled around the room,
Holding the dish, while others chased a-stern.
One might have raised the sacred cry, as if
It was a miracle; for some of them
Snatch'd something, others nothing, others all.
Yet they had only given me to dress
Some paltry river-fish that feed on mud.
If I had had a sea-char, or a turbot
From Athens—Zeus the Saver!—or a boar-fish
From Argos, or from darling Sicyon
That fish which Neptune carries up to Heaven
To feast the Immortals with—the conger-eel;
Then all who ate it would have turn'd to gods.
I have discover'd theelixir vitæ;
Those who are dead already, when they've smelt
One of my dishes, come to life again. —Anon.
Hegesander.(Book vii. § 36, p. 455.)
Pupil.Good master, many men have written largelyOn cookery; so either prove you're sayingSomething original, or else don't tease me.Cook.No, Syrus; think that I'm the only personWho've found and know the gastronomic object.I did not learn it in a brace of years,Wearing the apron just by way of sport;But have investigated and examinedThe art by portions during my whole life—How many kinds of greens, and sorts of sprats—The manifold varieties of lentils:—To sum up all—when I've officiatedDuring a funeral feast, as soon as everThe company return'd from the procession,All in their mourning robes, by merely liftingMy saucepan's lid I've made the weepers laugh,Such titillations ran throughout their bodies,As if it was a merry marriage-banquet.Pupil.What? just by serving them with sprats and lentils?Cook.Pshaw! this is play-work merely! If I getAll I require, and once fit up my kitchen,You'll see the very thing take place againThat happen'd in the times of the old Sirens.The smell will be so sweet, that not a manWill have the power to walk right through this alley;But every passer-by will stand directlyClose to my door, lock-jaw'd, and nail'd to it,And speechless, till some friend of his run up,With nose well plugg'd, and drag the wretch away.Pupil.You're a great artist!Cook.Yes, you do not knowTo whom you're prating. There are very manyThat I can spy amongst the audience there,Who through my means have eat up their estates. —Anon.
Pupil.Good master, many men have written largelyOn cookery; so either prove you're sayingSomething original, or else don't tease me.Cook.No, Syrus; think that I'm the only personWho've found and know the gastronomic object.I did not learn it in a brace of years,Wearing the apron just by way of sport;But have investigated and examinedThe art by portions during my whole life—How many kinds of greens, and sorts of sprats—The manifold varieties of lentils:—To sum up all—when I've officiatedDuring a funeral feast, as soon as everThe company return'd from the procession,All in their mourning robes, by merely liftingMy saucepan's lid I've made the weepers laugh,Such titillations ran throughout their bodies,As if it was a merry marriage-banquet.Pupil.What? just by serving them with sprats and lentils?Cook.Pshaw! this is play-work merely! If I getAll I require, and once fit up my kitchen,You'll see the very thing take place againThat happen'd in the times of the old Sirens.The smell will be so sweet, that not a manWill have the power to walk right through this alley;But every passer-by will stand directlyClose to my door, lock-jaw'd, and nail'd to it,And speechless, till some friend of his run up,With nose well plugg'd, and drag the wretch away.Pupil.You're a great artist!Cook.Yes, you do not knowTo whom you're prating. There are very manyThat I can spy amongst the audience there,Who through my means have eat up their estates. —Anon.
Pupil.Good master, many men have written largelyOn cookery; so either prove you're sayingSomething original, or else don't tease me.Cook.No, Syrus; think that I'm the only personWho've found and know the gastronomic object.I did not learn it in a brace of years,Wearing the apron just by way of sport;But have investigated and examinedThe art by portions during my whole life—How many kinds of greens, and sorts of sprats—The manifold varieties of lentils:—To sum up all—when I've officiatedDuring a funeral feast, as soon as everThe company return'd from the procession,All in their mourning robes, by merely liftingMy saucepan's lid I've made the weepers laugh,Such titillations ran throughout their bodies,As if it was a merry marriage-banquet.Pupil.What? just by serving them with sprats and lentils?Cook.Pshaw! this is play-work merely! If I getAll I require, and once fit up my kitchen,You'll see the very thing take place againThat happen'd in the times of the old Sirens.The smell will be so sweet, that not a manWill have the power to walk right through this alley;But every passer-by will stand directlyClose to my door, lock-jaw'd, and nail'd to it,And speechless, till some friend of his run up,With nose well plugg'd, and drag the wretch away.Pupil.You're a great artist!Cook.Yes, you do not knowTo whom you're prating. There are very manyThat I can spy amongst the audience there,Who through my means have eat up their estates. —Anon.
Pupil.Good master, many men have written largelyOn cookery; so either prove you're sayingSomething original, or else don't tease me.Cook.No, Syrus; think that I'm the only personWho've found and know the gastronomic object.I did not learn it in a brace of years,Wearing the apron just by way of sport;But have investigated and examinedThe art by portions during my whole life—How many kinds of greens, and sorts of sprats—The manifold varieties of lentils:—To sum up all—when I've officiatedDuring a funeral feast, as soon as everThe company return'd from the procession,All in their mourning robes, by merely liftingMy saucepan's lid I've made the weepers laugh,Such titillations ran throughout their bodies,As if it was a merry marriage-banquet.Pupil.What? just by serving them with sprats and lentils?Cook.Pshaw! this is play-work merely! If I getAll I require, and once fit up my kitchen,You'll see the very thing take place againThat happen'd in the times of the old Sirens.The smell will be so sweet, that not a manWill have the power to walk right through this alley;But every passer-by will stand directlyClose to my door, lock-jaw'd, and nail'd to it,And speechless, till some friend of his run up,With nose well plugg'd, and drag the wretch away.Pupil.You're a great artist!Cook.Yes, you do not knowTo whom you're prating. There are very manyThat I can spy amongst the audience there,Who through my means have eat up their estates. —Anon.
Pupil.Good master, many men have written largely
On cookery; so either prove you're saying
Something original, or else don't tease me.
Cook.No, Syrus; think that I'm the only person
Who've found and know the gastronomic object.
I did not learn it in a brace of years,
Wearing the apron just by way of sport;
But have investigated and examined
The art by portions during my whole life—
How many kinds of greens, and sorts of sprats—
The manifold varieties of lentils:—
To sum up all—when I've officiated
During a funeral feast, as soon as ever
The company return'd from the procession,
All in their mourning robes, by merely lifting
My saucepan's lid I've made the weepers laugh,
Such titillations ran throughout their bodies,
As if it was a merry marriage-banquet.
Pupil.What? just by serving them with sprats and lentils?
Cook.Pshaw! this is play-work merely! If I get
All I require, and once fit up my kitchen,
You'll see the very thing take place again
That happen'd in the times of the old Sirens.
The smell will be so sweet, that not a man
Will have the power to walk right through this alley;
But every passer-by will stand directly
Close to my door, lock-jaw'd, and nail'd to it,
And speechless, till some friend of his run up,
With nose well plugg'd, and drag the wretch away.
Pupil.You're a great artist!
Cook.Yes, you do not know
To whom you're prating. There are very many
That I can spy amongst the audience there,
Who through my means have eat up their estates. —Anon.
Footnotes.[146]According to some, Plato.[147]The lines are versions of parts of the long poem as found in Athenæus.
Footnotes.[146]According to some, Plato.[147]The lines are versions of parts of the long poem as found in Athenæus.
Footnotes.
[146]According to some, Plato.
[146]According to some, Plato.
[147]The lines are versions of parts of the long poem as found in Athenæus.
[147]The lines are versions of parts of the long poem as found in Athenæus.
Abates, a Cilician wine, 54.
Abrotonum, a courtesan, mother of Themistocles, 921.
Abydenes, profligacy of the, 841.
Academicians, bad character of some of the, 814.
Acanthias, or thorny shark, 461.
Acanthus, wine of, 50.
Acatia, a kind of drinking cup, 740.
Accipesius, question as to what fish intended, 462.
Acesias cited, 828.
Acestius cited, 828.
Achæinas, a kind of loaf, 181.
Achæus the Eretrian cited, 51, 104, 277, 420, 425, 435, 579, 592,593, 653, 654, 673, 712, 743, 767, 796, 1025, 1066, 1100, 1102.
Acharnus, a fish, 449.
Achillean fountain, the, 71.
Acorns, sea, 151.
Acorns of Jupiter, 87.
Acratopotes, a hero honoured in Munychia, 64.
Adæus, surnamed the cock, defeated and killed by Chares, 853.
Adæus of Mitylene cited, 751, 967.
Adespoti, freedmen among the Lacedæmonians, 427.
Admete of Argos, story of, 1072.
Adonis, a kind of fish, 525.
Adramyttes, king of Lydia, 826.
Adrian, wine so called, 54.
Æacis, a kind of drinking cup, 739.
Ægimius cited, 1028.
Æginetans, their numerous slaves, 428.
Ælius Asclepiades cited, 1080.
Æmilianus of Mauritania, the grammarian, a Deipnosophist, 2.
Æolian harmony, its character, 996;called afterwards Sub-Dorian, 997.
Æolus, a kind of fish, 503.
Æschines, his bad character, according to Lysias, 975;cited, 349, 536, 915.
Æschylides cited, 1040.
Æschylus, invented scenic dresses, and arrayed the choruses of hisplays, 35;his appeal to posterity, 548;accused of intemperance, 676;cited, 18, 28, 62, 84, 111, 112, 120, 143, 145, 165, 265, 282, 475,497, 547, 571, 588, 592, 620, 634, 664, 669, 706, 739, 748, 759,764, 783, 784, 789, 797, 805, 916, 957, 958, 961, 1001, 1005,1009, 1050, 1065, 1076, 1102, 1120.
Æschylus the Alexandrian cited, 956.
Æthlius cited, 1040, 1045.
Ætolians involved in debt by extravagance, 844.
Affection of various animals for man, 967.
Agallis of Corcyra wrote on grammar, 23.
Agatharchides cited, 46, 250, 270, 387, 395, 428, 466, 609, 844, 845,862, 880, 881, 1041.
Agatho cited, 336, 703, 931.
Agathocles, a favourite of Philip, 407.
Agathocles of Atracia wrote on fishing, 21.
Agathocles of Babylon cited, 49, 592, 825.
Agathocles of Cyzicus cited, 1039.
Agathon cited, 287, 717, 846.
Agelæi, a kind of loaves, 183.
Agelochus cited, 87.
Agen, a satyric drama, question as to its author, 83.
Agias cited, 1000.
Agiastos cited, 144.
Agis cited, 827.
Aglais, the female trumpeter, her voracity, 654.
Aglaosthenes cited, 131.
Agnocles the Rhodian cited, 567.
Agnon the Academic cited, 961.
Agron, king of the Illyrians, kills himself with drinking, 695.
Alban wine, two kinds of, 43, 54.
Alcæus the Mitylenean, fond of drinking, 679;cited, 37, 63, 123, 178, 182, 497, 584, 628, 630, 644, 669, 670,678, 679, (poetic version, 1180,) 726, 767, 1000, (1211,) 1076,1083, 1098, 1104, 1108.
Alcetas the Macedonian, a great drinker, 689.
Alcibiades, character of, 855;his triumphant return to Athens, 856;attached to courtesans, 916;his death, 917.
Alcidamas cited, 945.
Alcides of Alexandria, a Deipnosophist, 3.
Alcimus cited, 506, 696, 830.
Alciphron cited, 52.
Alcisthenes of Sybaris, his rich garment, 865.
Alcman, recorded by himself as a great eater, 656;cited, 52, 64, 136, 137, 183, 190, 227, 588, 614, 656, 797, 958,(poetic version, 1206,) 995, 1017, 1036, 1087, 1089.
Aleison, a kind of drinking cup, 740.
Alexamenus cited, 808.
Alexander the Great, death of, 686;his drunkenness, 687;his debauchery, 961;his luxury and extravagance, 860;gross flattery offered to him, 861;his letter to Philoxenus cited, 36, 70;his letter to the satraps of Asia cited, 742;his Agen cited, 935.
Alexander, king of Egypt, 880.
Alexander, king of Syria, 335.
Alexander the Ætolian cited, 273, 444, 465, 650, 1117.
Alexander the Myndian cited, 94, 107, 351, 610, 611, 613, 615, 616,617, 618, 619, 620, 622, 623, 628.
Alexandrides cited, 94.
Alexarchus, his strange letter, 164.
Alexinus the logician cited, 1113.
Alexis the comic poet, an epicure in fish, 543;cited, 30, 34, 42, 47, 51, 56, 60, 64, 66, 75, 77, 81, 90,(poeticversion, 1126,) 95, 99, 105, 110, 111, 125, 126, 128, 157, 158,159, 167, 173, 177, 178, 180, 183, 189, 193, 194, (1133,) 198,202, 203, 204, 206, 207, 209, 218, 219, 220, 222, 259, 263, 264,(1136,) 265, 271, 272, 274, 354, 355, 356, (1139,) 357, 358,(1142,) 359, (1143,) 362, 363, 372, (1146,) 374, (1150,) 378, 379,380, 381, 384, 389, 390, 399, 400, 405, (1156, 1157,) 406, 452,460, 472, 475, 482, 494, 510, 514, 532, (1163,) 535, 536, 537,558, 562, 571, 575, 576, 579, 582, 596, (1174,) 599, 603, 605,607, 622, 623, 658, 660, 663, 664, 665, 672, 678, 680, 681, 697,700, 701, 705, 709, (1180,) 731, (1183,) 743, (1185,) 749, 751,752, 754, 768, 772, 792, 797, 800, 803, 804, 805, 818, (1186,)828, 865, 871, 884, 885, 894, (1190,) 899, (1191,) 901, (1193,)904, (1194,) 907, 908, (1194,) 915, 918, 935, 936, 942, 950, 966,974, 978, 991, (1210,) 1020, 1026, 1027, 1029, 1040, 1041, 1043,1047, 1048, 1057, 1059, 1060, 1072, 1083, 1095, 1098, 1104, 1105,(1217,) 1107, 1118, 1119, 1120.
Alexis cited, 660.
Alexis the Samian cited, 916.
Alexon cited, 283.
Almonds, 85;various kinds, 85.
Alphesticus, a fish, 442.
Alps, the, or Rhipæan mountains, 468.
Amalthea, horn of, a grove so called, 867;a drinking cup, 741.
Amaranthus cited, 542, 653.
Amasis, the Egyptian king, how he obtained the throne, 1086;fond of mirth, 409;a great drinker, 692.
Ambrosia nine times sweeter than honey, 64;a flower so called, 1093.
Ameipsias cited, 12, 103, 113, 426, 482, 497, 516, 580, 644, 673,705, 754, 1066.
Amerias cited, 129, 189, 281, 282, 420, 581, 670, 741, 774, 1089,1118, 1121.
Amiæ, or tunnies, 436.
Amiton the Eleuthernæan, a harp-player, 1019.
Ammonius cited, 907.
Amœbius the harp-player, 993.
Amphicrates cited, 921.
Amphictyon, king of the Athenians, honours paid to Bacchus by, 63.
Amphilochus, advice to, 823.
Amphion the Thespæan, cited, 1003.
Amphis the comic writer, cited, 12, 50, 57, 71, 78, 83, 93, 110, 114,167, 279, 356, (poetic version, 1138,) 435, 463, 531, 608, 663, 666,671, 707, 894, 901, 908, 944, 1026, 1103, (1216.)
Amphis, a wine so called, 52.
Amusements, fondness of the Greeks for, 31.
Amyntas cited, 110, 698, 800, 848.
Anacharsis the Scythian, his satire on drunkenness, 691.
Anacreon, a sober and virtuous man, 677;cited, 18, 34, 282, 283, 362, 625, 673, 680, 685, 705, 726, 730,738, 753, 757, 758, 796, 854, 903, 955, (poetic version, 1205,)957, 1012, 1013, 1014, 1015, 1030, 1072, 1075, 1076, 1083, 1098,1102, 1108.
Ananius cited, 132, 443, 583, 997.
Anaxagoras cited, 94, 119, 120.
Anaxandrides destroys his unsuccessful plays, 589;cited, 47, 57, 78, 112, 158, 175, 214, 266, 281, 283, 352, 359, 381,382, 389, 400, 410, 413, 463, 470, 483, 520, 589, 720, 727, 731,768, 769, 803, 886, 912, 980, 1013, 1020, 1026, 1046, 1047, 1098,1102, 1104, 1110, 1119.
Anaxarchus the philosopher, his mode of life, 877.
Anaxilas, or Anaxilaus, cited, 104, 113, 158, 205, 275, 284, 355, 399,482, 540, 590, 607, 656, 672, 742, 877, 893, (poetic version, 1187,)914, 994, 1047.
Anaximander cited, 796.
Anaximenes of Lampsacus cited, 365, 851, 944.
Anaxippus cited, 271, (poetic version, 1136,) 656, 776, 974.
Anchiale and Tarsus built in one day by Sardanapalus, 848.
Anchimolus, a water-drinker, 72.
Anchovies, 447;mode of cooking, 448.
Ancona, wine of, 44.
Ancyla, a kind of drinking cup, 739.
Andreas of Panormus, cited, 1012.
Andreas the physician cited, 191, 490, 491.
Andriscus cited, 131.
Androcottus the Lydian, luxury of, 849.
Androcydes cited, 404.
Andron of Alexandria cited, 285, 1087.
Androsthenes cited, 155.
Androtion cited, 126, 137, 591.
Anicetus cited, 741.
Anicius, Lucius, his burlesque triumph, 981.
Animals, fondness of the Sybarites for,832.
Annarus the Persian, luxury of, 849.
Antagoras, the poet, repartee of, 538.
Antalcidas the Lacedæmonian, favoured by the king of Persia, 79.
Antelopes, 625.
Antheas the Lindian, 702.
Anthias, the, 442;why called a sacred fish, 443.
Anthippus cited, 637, (poetic version, 1176.)
Anticlides cited, 254, 605, 735, 754.
Antidotus cited, 181, 378, 1027, 1050.
Antigenides, witticism ascribed to, 1008.
Antigonus the Carystian cited, 73, 137, (poetic version, 1129,) 146,466, 475, 544, 661, 691, 876, 901, 904, 962, 969.
Antimachus cited, 471, 478, 745, 746, 748, 757, 758, 770, 775.
Antinous, garland of, 1081.
Antiochus of Alexandria cited, 769.
Antiochus the Great, his favour for players and dancers, 31;his drunkenness, 692, 694.
Antiochus Epiphanes, games celebrated by, 310;a great drinker, 692.
Antiochus Grypus, his magnificent entertainment, 864.
Antiochus Theos banishes the philosophers, 875.
Antipater, the king, his plain mode of life, 878;a check on the disorderly conduct of Philip, 687.
Antipater of Tarsus cited, 546, 1028.
Antiphanes, his remark to king Alexander, 888;cited, 4, 5, 7, 12, 17, 24, 29, 37, 45, 46, 47, 62, 65, 70, 71, 77,78, 93, 96, 99, 100, 104, 108, 109, 110, 112, 119, 125, 126, 130,140, (poetic version, 1129,) 157, 160, 165, 167, 172, (1133,) 179,186, 195, 198, 202, 203, 206, 207, 209, 214, 231, 252, 255, 258,259, 260, 271, 272, 273, 276, 279, 353, 354, 355, (1137,) 357,(1142,) 358, 364, 375, (1151,) 376, 389, 404, (1156,) 405, 411,452, 462, 463, 469, 471, 474, 476, 482, 486, 491, 492, 507, 508,520, 535, 536, 537, 541, 542, 565, 577, 579, 583, 599, 618, 624,625, 626, 633, 634, 635, 645, 666, 667, 697, 701, 703, 704, 708,710, 711, (1181,) 720, 724, 737, 751, 756, 774, 776, 777, 778,789, 800, 805, 806, 843, 872, 885, 886, 895, 905, 908, 914, 915,934, 936, 937, 986, 993, 1026, 1028, 1030, 1033, 1047, 1050, 1057,1058, 1064, 1065, 1072, 1084, 1088, 1096, 1101, 1102, 1104, 1107.
Antiphanes the orator, cited, 626.
Antiphon cited, 666, 841, 1040.
Antisthenes cited, 343, 344, 350, 822.
Antony, Marc, assumes the style of Bacchus, 239.
Antylla, revenues of, the pin money of Egyptian and Persian queens,55.
Anytus, a friend of Alcibiades, 856.
Aotus, a kind of drinking cup, 740.
Apanthracis, a kind of loaf, 182.
Apellas cited, 104, 581.
Aphetæ, freedmen among the Lacedæmonians, 427.
Aphritis, a kind of anchovy, 447.
Apicius, an epicure, 10.
Apion cited, 802, 1027, 1086.
Apollo the fish-eater, 545.
Apollocrates, a drunkard, 688.
Apollodorus of Adramyttium cited, 1090.
Apollodorus the arithmetician cited, 660.
Apollodorus of Athens cited, 104, 108, 137, 148, 276, 442, 486, 512,770, 774, 795, 801, 907, 913, 930, 935, 943, 1017, 1032, 1037, 1059,1088.
Apollodorus of Carystus cited, 57, 127, 440, 441, 480.
Apollodorus the comic poet cited, 4, (poetic version, 1123.)
Apollodorus the Cyrenean cited, 777.
Apollodorus of Gela cited, 206, 752.
Apollodorus, son of Pasion, cited, 916.
Apollodorus the physician cited, 1078.
Apollonius cited, 162.
Apollonius of Herophila cited, 1099.
Apollonius Rhodius cited, 445, 712.
Apollophanes cited, 190, 745, 775.
Apopyrias, 185.
Apopyris, the, a fish, 529.
Apparatus, the cook's, 271.
Appian the grammarian, 402.
Apples, 135;various kinds, 136;battle of apples, 435.
Aracis, a drinking cup, 803.
Arææ, islands, why so called, 412.
Araros cited, 77, 144, 159, 175, 281, 374, 751, 899.
Aratus cited, 781, 782, 786.
Arbaces, the Mede, his interview with Sardanapalus, 847.
Arbutus, the, 82, 83.
Arcadians, cultivation of music by the, 999.
Arcadion, epitaph on, 689.
Arcesilaus, ready wit of, 662.
Archagathus cited, 254.
Archaianassa, the mistress of Plato, his song on her, 940;(poetical version, 1197.)
Archedicus cited, 459, 460, 745.
Archelaus of the Chersonese cited, 615, 888.
Archemachus cited, 414.
Archestratus the soothsayer, weighed only one obol, 884.
Archestratus the Syracusan cited, 7, (poetic version, 1123,) 48,92, 105, 154, (1130,) 168, 169, 174, 185, 193, 196, 260, 262, 437,447, 449, 450, 452, 460, 461, 462, 468, 471, 473, 476, 477, 479,480, 482, 487, 489, 491, 494, 496, 501, 502, 503, 505, 506, 507,510, 512, 513, 514, 515, 516, 517, 520, 604, 630, 1013.
Archidamas, king, fined for marrying a rich instead of a beautifulwife, 905.
Archilochus the Parian poet, cited, 11, (poetic version, 1123,) 51,86, 128, 143, 184, 201, 296, 468, 612, 654, 685, 706, 771, (1186,)838, 839, 841, 1000, 1002, 1021, 1045, 1099.
Archimelus cited, 333.
Archippus cited, 144, 151, 159, 359, 436, 482, 489, 495, 506, 517,519, 524, 541, 668, 671, 798, 1024, 1049, 1083.
Archonides the Argive, never thirsty, 72.
Archytas, his kindness to his slaves, 832;cited, 137, 286, 828.
Arctinus the Corinthian cited, 36, 436.
Areopagus, persons cited before the, for extravagant living, 268.
Arethusa, fountain of, 69.
Argas, a parodist, 1024.
Argyraspides, or Macedonian body-guard, 863.
Argyris, a drinking cup, 742.
Ariphron cited, 1122, (poetic version, 1222.)
Aristagoras cited, 913.
Aristarchus the grammarian, 65, 86, 295, 297, 301, 797, 801, 1012.
Aristarchus the tragic poet cited, 978.
Aristeas cited, 994.
Aristias cited, 99, 1095.
Aristides cited, 1024.
Aristippus, his retort on Plato, 541;given to luxury, 870;bears the practical jokes of Dionysius, 871;justifies his conduct, 871, 939.
Aristobulus of Cassandra cited, 71, 394, 686, 849.
Aristocles cited, 227, 278, 989.
Aristocrates cited, 138.
Aristodemus cited, 384, 387, 534, 544, 792.
Aristogeiton cited, 944.
Aristomenes cited, 17, 190, 451, 605, 1040, 1052.
Ariston the Chian cited, 63, 660, 902.
Aristonicus cited, 33.
Aristonicus the ball-player, statue to, 31.
Aristonymus the harp-player, 715;his riddles, 715;cited, 145, 447, 448, 451.
Aristophanes cited, 35, 50, 68, 79, 81, 83, 86, 92, 93, 94, 103, 107,109, 111, 126, (poetic version, 1129,) 129, 130, 134, 144, 145,(1130,) 149, 150, 151, 157, 159, 160, 173, 178, 181, 182, 183, 184,186, 189, 193, 195, 197, 209, 214, 218, 226, 249, 251, 255, 260,271, 273, 274, 276, 277, 285, 286, 293, 362, 434, 448, 450, 452,469, 471, 472, 474, 483, 485, 488, 489, 494, 495, 497, 505, 509,510, 512, 518, 519, 541, 545, 575, 577, 578, 579, 585, 586, 587,589, 590, 591, 599, 606, 607, 608, 610, 611, 619, 623, 624, 627,628, 629, 630, 645, 646, 659, 666, 668, 669, 702, 705, 726, 727,742, 744, 762, 763, 764, 771, 773, 774, 778, 789, 790, 792, 803,841, 845, 882, 907, 911, 945, 987, 1003, 1004, 1017, 1025, 1031,1032, 1033, 1040, 1044, 1045, 1066, 1081, 1086, 1102, 1103, 1104,1108, 1118, 1119, 1121.
Aristophanes the grammarian cited, 138, 143, 361, 451, 591, 604,644, 797, 930, 987, 1054.
Aristophon cited, 104, 375, 376, (poetic version, 1151,) 475, 752,884, 895, (1190,) 901, (1193,) 902.
Aristos the Salaminan cited, 689.
Aristotle wrote drinking songs, 5;criticisms on his Natural History, 555;cited, 40, 52, 56, 66, 72, 104, 107, 146, 147, 148, 149, 151, 154,174, 277, 288, 293, 372, 428, 436, 442, 443, 447, 449, 450, 461,464, 467, 469, 471, 472, 473, 474, 475, 476, 477, 479, 480, 481,482, 483, 484, 485, 487, 490, 491, 492, 494, 495, 496, 497, 499,500, 501, 502, 503, 506, 509, 510, 513, 514, 516, 517, 518, 520,524, 531, 548, 609, 611, 612, 615, 616, 617, 618, 620, 621, 622,626, 679, 686, 687, 706, 732, 794, 798, 808, 813, 834, 838, 839,849, 865, 889, 890, 891, 902, 920, 987, 1024, 1025, 1042, 1045,1046, 1049, 1076, 1077, 1106, 1113, 1114, (poetic version, 1221.)
Aristoxenus, a luxurious philosopher, 11;cited, 76, 278, 279, 283, 286, 660, 744, 872, 889, 988, 989, 991,995, 1005, 1006, 1007, 1008, 1013, 1014, 1015, 1019, 1037.
Armenidas cited, 51.
Arnexias cited, 85.
Aroclum, a kind of drinking cup, 740.
Artaxerxes, his favour for Timagoras, 79.
Artemidorus, (the false Aristophanes,) collected savings on cookery,7;cited, 184, 609.
Artemidorus the Aristophanian, 283, 609, 775, 1058, 1059, 1060.
Artemidorus of Ephesus cited, 184, 527.
Artemon becomes suddenly rich, 854;Anacreonic verses on him, 854.
Artemon cited, 826, 1017, 1018, 1109.
Artichokes, 116.
Artus, king of the Messapians, 180.
Aryasian wine, 54.
Aryballus, a drinking cup, 741,
Arycandians involved in debt through their extravagance, 845.
Arystichus, a drinking cup, 742.
Asclepiades of Myrlea cited, 82, 740, 756, 760, 778, 779, 780, 797,801, 802, 806, 908, 1084.
Asclepiades and Menedemus, 269.
Asclepiades Tragilenses cited, 720.
Asius of Samos cited, 206, 842.
Asopodorus, his remark on popular applause, 1008;cited, 1021.
Asparagus, 103.
Aspasia, the mistress of Pericles, 854;fills Greece with courtesans, 911;accused of impiety, and defended by Pericles, 940;cited, 348, 349.
Astaci, 174.
Asteropæus, Laurentius likened to, 4.
Astydamas the athlete, strength and voracity of, 651.
Astydamas, the tragic poet, 56;cited, 65, 648, 793.
Astypalæa, island of, overrun with hares, 631.
Atergatis, her love of fish, 546.
Athanis cited, 164.
Athenæus, author of the Deipnosophists, 1;cited, 335.
Athenian flattery, 397;loaves, 186;law for the protection of slaves, 419;banquets, 733;courtesans, 916, 930.
Athenion cited, 1056, (poetic version, 1212.)
Athenion becomes tyrant of Athens, 336.
Athenocles the artist, 738.
Athenocles the Cyzicene cited, 291.
Athenodorus cited, 832.
Athens, large number of slaves in, 428.
Athletes, censure of, 651.
Attic banquet, description of an, 220;form of certain words, 627.
Attitudes of guests, 307.
Aurelius, Marcus, the emperor, 3.
Autoclees wastes his fortune, and commits suicide, 859.
Autocrates cited, 622, 726.
Autocratic wines, 54.
Autopyritæ, 183.
Axiochus, a companion of Alcibiades, 856.
Axionicus cited, 158, 266, 280, 377, 384,539, 698.
Axiopistos cited, 1037.
Babylon, wine from, called nectar, 53.
Bacchides, inscription on his tomb, 531.
Bacchus, likened to a bull, and to a leopard, 63.
Bacchylides cited, 33, 59, (poetic version, 1125,) 291, 739, 799,1065.
Bacchylus, 185.
Bachelors, how treated in Sparta, 889.
Bæton cited, 698.
Bagoas the eunuch, 962.
Baiæ, bad water at, 70.
Balani, or sea-acorns, 151.
Ball-play said to be invented by the Lacedæmonians, 23;various kinds, 24.
Ball-player, statue erected to a, 31.
Bambradon, a fish, 451.
Banishment and death of philosophers, 875, 975.
Banquets, posture at, 29;dancing at, 219;an Attic banquet, 220;Lacedæmonian, 224;Cretan, 231;Persian, 233;Cleopatra's, 239;Phigalean, 240;Arcadian, 241;at Naucratis, 241;Egyptian, 242;Thracian, 243;Celtic, 245;Parthian, 246;Roman, 247;philosophic banquets, 288;described by Homer, 289, 300;by Epicurus, 298;by Xenophon, 299;dole-basket, 575;public, on occasion of victory, 853.
Barbine wine, 44.
Bards, the old Grecian, modest and orderly, 22.
Barley-cakes, 189.
Basilus cited, 614.
Bathanati, gold proscribed by the, 369.
Baths, their injurious character, 29;various kinds, 40;recommended by Homer, 292.
Bathyllus of Alexandria, the introducer of tragic dancing, 33.
Batiacium, a drinking cup, 742.
Baton cited, 171, (poetic version, 1132,) 262, 395, 689, 1022, 1058,(1216,) 1084.
Baucalis, a drinking cup, 742.
Beans, the Egyptian, 121.
Bean-soup, 643.
Beauty, prizes for, 905, 972.
Beef, the Greek chiefs fed on, 13.
Beer, an Egyptian drink, 56.
Beet-root, 584.
Belone, the, a fish, 502.
Bembras, a kind of anchovy, 451.
Berosus cited, 1021.
Bessa, a drinking cup, 742.
Bibline wine, 51.
Bicus, a drinking cup, 743.
Bill of fare at entertainments, 81.
Bion cited, 74.
Bion the Borysthenite cited, 261, 664.
Bion of Soli cited, 906.
Birds, traps and nets for catching, 41.
Bisaltæ, their device for conquering the Cardians, 834.
Bithynians enslaved by the Byzantines, 426.
Biton cited, 1012.
Blackbirds eaten, 108.
Blackcap, the, 107.
Blæsus cited, 184, 777.
Blema, a kind of bread, 189.
Blennus, a fish, 452.
Blepsias cited, 188.
Boar, the wild, 632.
Boaxes, or boeces, 450, 491;origin of the name, 550.
Bœotian, reply of a, 466.
Bœotians, gluttony of the, 657.
Bœotus, a parodist, 1116.
Boiled meats, 41;why preferred to roast, 1049;boiled wines, 52;boiled water, 201.
Boius cited, 620.
Boletinus, a kind of bread, 189.
Bombylius, a drinking cup, 743.
Book, a great, a great evil, 121.
Bormus, dirge for, 988.
Boscades, a species of duck, 623.
Boys, love of, 902, 959.
Brain of the palm, 118.
Brains, the word thought ill-omened, 108.
Bread, 179;various kinds, 180, 188;modes of making, 186;wholesomeness or unwholesomeness, 190.
Breakfasts in the Homeric times, 17.
Brizo, a goddess, 529.
Bromias, a drinking cup, 743.
Buffoons and mimics, 32.
Buglossus, a shell-fish, 452.
Bustard, the, 614.
Buxentine wine, 44.
Byzantines addicted to drunkenness, 698;luxury of the, 844.
Cabbage, a preventive of drunkenness, 56;various kinds, 582;oaths by the, 583.
Cactus, the, 117.
Cadiscus, a kind of cup, 754.
Cadmus, the grandfather of Bacchus, said to be a cook, 1053.