the established fame of Simonides would afford a favourable introduction. Now, one of the fragments of Bacchylides (Bergk, no. 17) runs:—ἕτερος ἐξ ἑτέρου σοφὸς τό πάλαι τό τε νῦν· | οὐδὲ γὰρ ῥᾷστον ἀρρήτων ἐπέων πύλας | ἐξευρεῖν: "bard follows bard [i.e. poet teaches poet by example]: for 'tis no light quest to find the gates of unattempted song" [to devise a thoroughly original strain]; where ἀρρήτων means,—not "unspeakable" (like Milton's "inexpressive" song),—but "unspoken," unsung before: cp. Soph. Antig. 556, ἀλλ' οὐκ ἐπ' ἀρρήτοις γε τοῖς ἐμοῖς λόγοις. This is the sentiment of one who viewed lyric poetry as a traditional art—as, indeed it was, and an art of elaborate method—without any strong consciousness of original genius. Nay, we should do no force to the words if we read in them an implied tribute from the nephew to the uncle who had been his master and his model. When Pindar depreciates the singer who is a mere pupil of others; when he says that "one training will not form us all," or lift the uninspired man to the heights of poetry; may he not be hinting that the young Bacchylides—a new competitor for Sicilian laurels—was only a feeble echo of Simonides? In an ode written for Hiero in 474 B.C. Pindar expresses the hope of "surpassing rivals" (ἀμεύσασθ' ἀντίους, Pyth. i. 45): he touches on the baneful power of envy and slander,—but adds, "yet forego not noble aims; 'tis better to be envied than pitied" (κρέσσων γὰρ οἰκτιρμοῦ φθόνος, ib. 85). The tone of this and other passages is (to my mind)
