a danger that we shall be split up again, and we shall have to go about in basso-relievo, like those figures with only half a nose which you may see sculptured on our columns.
Agathon, the young tragic poet, then takes up the parable. Love is the best and fairest of the gods, walking in soft places, with a grace that is all his own, and nestling among the flowers of beauty. Again. Love is
"the wonder of the wise, the amazement of the gods; desired by those who have no part in him, and precious to those who have the better part in him; parent of delicacy, luxury, desire, fondness, softness, grace; careful of the good, uncareful of the evil. In every word, work, wish, fear—pilot, helper, defender, saviour; glory of gods and men."—J.
Lastly, Socrates tells them a story, which he has heard from Diotima, "a wise woman." Love is not in reality a god at all, but a spirit which spans the gulf between heaven and earth, carrying to the gods the prayers of men, and to men the commands of the gods. He is the child of Plenty and Poverty. Like his mother, he is always poor and in misery, without house or home to cover him; like his father, "he is a hunter of men, and a bold intriguer, philosopher, enchanter, sorcerer, and sophist," hovering between life and death, plenty and want, knowledge and ignorance. Love is something more than the desire of beauty;—it is the instinct of immortality in a mortal creature. Hence parents wish for children, who shall come after them, and take their place and preserve their
