The objects described in this article have for the most part been acquired by the Trustees of the British Museum in the course of the last four years through Sir Cecil Smith, late Keeper of the Department of Greek and Roman Antiquities. Sir Cecil Smith has kindly given his assent to their publication, and Mr. Arthur Smith, the present Keeper, has added his permission.

P.Oxy. 4711 (from a papyrus codex of the sixth century AD) contains elegiacs with at least three metamorphosis myths (Adonis, Asterie, Narcisssus). In this article I argue against the suggestion by (among others) the first editor of this papyrus that the verses might be by Parthenius. I do so by examining the evidence for Parthenian authorship (especially the presumed imitations by Ovid and Gregory of Nazianzus) and by comparing the style of the new piece with what we actually possess of Parthenian poetry (especially with fr. 28 Lightfoot, which might come from the Metamorphoseis). Instead I suggest a late date of composition and would regard the fragments as a collection of the-matically arranged διηέματα in verse which are related to the production of progymnasmata in schools.

Cho. 581–2

τὰ δ᾿ ἄλλα τσύτῳ δεῦρ᾿ ἐποπτεῦσαι λέγω ξιφηφρους ἀγῶνας όρθώσοντί μοι

In a recent article {JHS Iv. 20-34) I have argued that this passage is based on an allusion to the Eleusinian hro-meiot, the second grade of the Mysteries. My purpose now is to explain more clearly the significance of that conception.

Plato likened the soul of man to a charioteer, who drove two horses, one good, the other bad, one docile, the other recalcitrant (Phaedr. 246—7) : ἔνθα δὴ πόνος τε καὶ ἀγὼν ἔσχατος ψυχῇ πρόκειται. And he saw human life as a struggle in which many of the chariots clashed and fell (248b): θόρυβος οῦν καί ἅμιλλα λαί ἱδρὼς ἔσχατος γίγνεται … πᾶσαι δὲ πολὺν ἔχουσαι πόδρον ἀτελεῖς τῆς τοῦ ὄντος θέας ἀπέρχονται.

‘Since the discovery of the ῾Αθηναίων Πολιτεία in 1890’ the learned editors of the Oxyrhynchus papyri tell us, ‘Egypt has not produced any historical papyrus at all comparable in importance to these portions of a lost Greek historian, obviously of the first rank, dealing in minute detail with the events of the Greek world in the years 396 and 395 B.C.’ Drs. Grenfell and Hunt are indeed to be congratulated first on having made so great a discovery—a piece of luck which their long and arduous labours, systematically and scientifically conducted, have so richly deserved—and secondly they are still more to be congratulated on the success with which they have pieced together and deciphered the text and illumined their interpretation with clearly written and closely argued introduction and notes. They have not contented themselves, as they well might have done, merely with arranging and deciphering the text—a work demanding the greatest patience and the most exact scholarship—but they have boldly tackled, and with great acumen, the difficult question of the authorship of the work and many historical problems raised both by the fragmentary nature of the text itself and by comparison of its statements with those of other extant authorities.

J'espérais bien n'en plus parler; j'en ai parlé, jadis, assez longuement. Mais un important article, publié en 1915 dans l'Hermes par E. von Stern et dont je n'ai eu connaissance qu'en ces temps derniers, m'oblige à en dire encore quelques mots.

Il s'agit, une fois de plus, de ce Πτολεμαῖος ὁ Λυσιμάχου appelé aussi Πτολεμαῖος Έπίγονος dont fait mention un décret voté, en 240 avant notre ère, par les citoyens de Telmessos en Lycie; qui, par la faveur de Ptolémée III Évergètes, était devenu peu avant cette date prince souverain de Telmessos; et qui reçut des Telmessiens, en récompense de ses bienfaits, les plus rares honneurs.

In the early years after its foundation in 1857, the Victoria and Albert Museum at South Kensington pursued its policy of acquisition with a vigorously catholic taste. Since then its scope has become gradually limited to exclude work of the pre-Christian era, but in addition to the original purchases of Greek vases, the accession of large miscellaneous collections containing antiquities has contributed to what is now an excellent group of Greek and Roman objects. Important Greek vases were included in the big collection of modern European ceramics transferred in 1901 from the Museum of Practical Geology, Jermyn Street, and in 1910 the late George Salting bequeathed his entire collection, other than paintings, to the Victoria and Albert Museum. His good taste in every other direction was sufficient guarantee that the Greek civilisations should be represented by work of more than average merit. Unfortunately, Salting kept few records concerning the provenance of his acquisitions, and so one of the finest Etruscan engraved mirrors in existence came to the Museum without a past history.

The twenty-fifth chapter of the Aristotelian Constitution of Athens contains a circumstantial account of the overthrow of the Areopagus, which differs from the accepted version of the same affair in ascribing an important, though not the foremost, part in the attack to Themistocles. The newly discovered version does not, it is true, stand entirely by itself. But it is found elsewhere only in an argument to the Areopagiticus of Isocrates, written probably by a sixth-century Christian. As between the argument and the papyrus, it is the latter that alone can give any serious historical value to the former. But what is the historical value of the account in the Constitution? If it is true, then, as was recognised at once by Kenyon in his editio princeps, it revolutionises the history of the later part of Themistocles' career.

The late fifth-century or sixth-century AD writer Fulgentius appears to quote Stesimbrotus of Thasos for a grisly detail of the death of Polycrates, describing how his corpse was carried away on a stretcher. Fulgentius is not a source to command confidence, and Jacoby dismisses this fragment as ‘unecht’ without further discussion. There is a case for being more cautious. It is not impossible that Stesimbrotus described Polycrates’ death, and, if so, Herodotus may be setting himself against that narrative when he says that Polycrates was killed ‘in a way which does not bear mentioning’. There may be a broader sense too in which both Herodotus and Thucydides are ‘defining their narratives against’ the work of Stesimbrotus among others.