Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 18, 2025
Twenty cubits of the city wall were pulled down to make a gate for the triumphal entry. There was another great feast at the government house. The purse of an hundred drachmæ, due by law to Isthmian victors, was presented. A street was named for Glaucon in the new port-town of Peiræus. Simonides recited a triumphal ode. All Athens, in short, made merry for days.
Glaucon said, with a ludicrous earnestness: By the light of heaven, how amazing! Yes, I said, and the exaggeration may be set down to you; for you made me utter my fancies. And pray continue to utter them; at any rate let us hear if there is anything more to be said about the similitude of the sun. Yes, I said, there is a great deal more. Then omit nothing, however slight.
“Down with your lance-head, Rūkhs. By Mithra, I think this Hellene is brave as he is beautiful! See how he stands. We must have him to the Prince.” “Excellency,” spoke Glaucon, in his best court Persian, “I am a courier to the Lord Mardonius. If you are faithful servants of his Eternity the king, where is your camp?” The chief started.
Now at last our prayers and his skill have conquered; you awake to life and gladness.” Glaucon lay wondering, not knowing how to reply, and only understanding in half, when the dark-haired goddess spoke, in purer Greek than her companion. “And I, O Glaucon of Athens, would have you suffer me to kiss your feet.
The good woman commenced by reminding the strategus how he had visited her and her brother Polus to question them as to the doings of the Babylonish carpet merchant, and how it had seemed plain to them that Glaucon was nothing less than a traitor.
Another flashed from the lordly crest of Pentelicus, telling the news to all Attica. There was singing in the fishers’ boats far out upon the bay. In the goat-herds’ huts on dark Hymethus the pan-pipes blew right merrily. Athens spent the night in almost drunken joy. One name was everywhere:— “Glaucon the Beautiful who honours us all! Glaucon the Fortunate whom the High Gods love!”
More vows, prayers, exhortations. Glaucon stood and received all the homage in silence. A little flush was on his forehead. His arms and shoulders were very red. Lycon rose slowly. All could hear his rage and curses. The heralds ordered him to contain himself. “Now, fox of Athens,” rang his shout, “I will kill you!”
Have a brave heart. Remember that Helios can shine lustily even if you are not in Athens, and pray the gods to give a fair return.” Glaucon felt the money pressed within his palm. He saw Phormio turning away. He caught the fishmonger’s hard hand and kissed it twice. “I can never reward you. Not though I live ten thousand years and have all the gold of Gyges.”
And you see that hope is not quite dead.” “I dare not cherish it. If I were but a man!” repeated Hermione. But she thanked Phormio many times, would not let him refuse her money, and bade him come often again and bring her all the Agora gossip about the war. “For we are friends,” she concluded; “you and I are the only persons who hold Glaucon innocent in all the world. And is that not tie enough?”
Was this black slumberous water to be the scene at dawn of a combat beside which that of Hector and Achilles under Troy would be only as a tale that is told? And was he, Glaucon, son of Conon the Alcmæonid, sitting there in the skiff alone with Sicinnus, to have a part therein, in a battle the fame whereof should ring through the ages? Bump, bump—still the monologue of the oars.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking