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According to a marginal lemma in the only manuscript that carries the poem (Palat. gr. 23+ Paris, gr. suppl. 384), the painting of the world described in a well-known ecphrasis by John of Gaza was situated in the winter baths of Gaza. According to the standard edition of John's poem by P. Friedlaender, these are the baths Choricius of Gaza refers to as in course of construction at Gaza in A.D. 535 or 536. If so, then both the painting and John's poem would have to be later than this. And since the poem does not claim to have been written for the dedication of the baths, it might be considerably later. G. Krahmer even dated it to the seventh century, on the grounds that John misunderstood some details of the picture he was describing.

The poet Philitas was so thin, they say, that he had to wear lead weights on his shoes to avoid being blown away by a gust of wind. We have two versions of the anecdote. First Aelian, Varia Historia 9.14

The story of Atlantis, inspiration (on a recent estimate) of more than 20,000 books, rests entirely on an elaborate Platonic myth (Timaeus 20d–26e, continued in Critias 108d–121c), allegedly based on a private, oral tradition deriving from Solon. Solon himself is supposed to have heard the story in Egypt; a priest obligingly translated it for him from hieroglyphic inscriptions in a temple in Sais. It might be added that (unlike his modern readers) Plato is less concerned with Atlantis than with her rival and conqueror, the Athens of that antediluvian age 9600 B.C. That Plato himself made the whole story up (fashionable recent theories about Thera notwithstanding) is indeed virtually demonstrable. This is not the place for such a demonstration (not that any amount of proof could destroy the faith of the true believer), but it is at any rate possible to eliminate completely one of the crucial props on which belief has always leaned.

Five epigrams in the Greek Anthology are ascribed to Sophronius, sophist, poet, theologian and finally patriarch of Jerusalem when it fell to the Arabs in 638. Sophronius' other extant poems are all in the anacreontic metre, which he wrote with a certain fluency but (judged by classical standards) without perfect mastery. It is in principle quite possible that he also composed in so traditional a genre as the classicizing epigram, but (as we shall see) there are in fact considerable doubts about four of the five in question.

The last book we shall have from the hand of Denys Page is an edition of that ‘talented but inscrutable writer’ the epigrammatist Rufinus.1 It is a model of its kind, distinguished by all the virtues we have come to associate with Page's work - erudition, intelligence and judgement. But on the long-debated question of Rufinus’ date he may be as much as three centuries out.

The text of Claudian has received little serious attention since the great edition of Theodor Birt in 1892 (MGH Auct. Ant. x). The Teubner edition of the following year is by a pupil of Birt, J. Koch, and, though it is a handy text with a useful preface, it cannot really be used independently of Birt. After that, apart from two not very substantial contributions by J. P. Postgate (C.Q. iv [1910], 257–62)

The latest volume of the Antinoopolis Papyri (iii [1967], no. 115) contains fragments of some 40 iambic lines in praise of a certain Archelas. The papyrus is dated by J. W. B. Barns, the editor of the piece, to the sixth century A.D., and the poem itself can be no older, since corrections and alterations show it to be an author's draft. According to Barns it is ‘an iambic encomium of a type not uncommon in late Greek occasional poetry from Egypt’ (p. 20). I would suggest rather that the surviving lines come in fact from an iambic preface to a hexameter encomium.In the fourth, fifth, and sixth centuries it was standard, if not universal, practice to preface a hexameter poem with an iambic prologue. Since details are not readily available, and are relevant to my argument, I tabulate them here. First the four examples that have come to us by manuscript tradition, as it happens the same manuscript (Palatinus 23), and all dating from the second half of the sixth century.

That Ammianus Marcellinus was a pagan is agreed on all sides. He was no Eunapius to vilify and slander the Christians, and no Macrobius to pretend that they did not exist; nevertheless, while not (at any rate overtly) hostile to the new religion, he still adhered to the old. It is, however, customary to quote as an illustration of his attitude to Christianity the numerous passages where he refers to things Christian in a curiously roundabout fashion, as if unfamiliar with the words he was using. Instances such as ‘Christiani ritus presbyter (utipsi appellant)’ (31. 12. 8), ‘coetus in unum quaesitus eiusdem legis cultorum (synodus ut appellant)’ (15. 7. 7), ‘inductus est (ut appellant Christiani) diaconus’ (14. 9. 7), would seem at first sight to justify the conclusion of P. de Jonge that ‘Ammianus speaks of Christianity as an alien religion which is not professed by him’.

Whatever fond hopes their author may have entertained when he published them, the Letters of the younger Pliny did not meet with an appreciative public. The first, indeed almost the only, writer before modern times to have read them with care and to have signalled his admiration by imitation is Sidonius Apollinaris, bishop of Auvergne in the late fifth century.

Opinion has long been divided as to the exact interpretation of the phrase de tenero ungui, the Latin version of a Greek proverbial expression The competing explanations are:A. ‘from the depth of her being’, penitus.B. ‘from her earliest childhood’, ab infantia; that is, presumably, from the time when the nails were still soft like those of a very young baby (though cf. E. W. Fay, A.J.Ph. xxix [1908], 205).

Despite Lachmann's attempt to place them in the second century, it is now generally agreed that the Fables of Avianus cannot have been written before the late fourth or early fifth century. The linguistic and metrical evidence is decisive. For these matters I merely refer to the material collected in the prefaces to the editions of Ellis and Hervieux. Though these works appeared in 1887 and 1894 respectively, when the study of Late Latin was in its infancy, I suspect that a fresh study with the aid of modern tools would serve only to confirm their conclusions.

As is well known, the Amores of Ovid appeared in two different editions, of which only the second survives. Hence, scholars being what they are, it is hardly surprising that almost as much has been written about the first as the second. If I have ventured to add yet another contribution to the already over-long bibliography of the subject

(Anth. Pal. 10.92)So the Palatinus, our only source for this poem. No satisfactory explanation of has ever been propounded, and the words are surely corrupt. By deftly changing two letters and replacing by Jacobs restored a sense of sorts

A. F. Norman has recently suggested that a hitherto overlooked passage in Suidas is a fragment from the history of Eunapius of Sardis. He is clearly correct in referring the passage to an incident at the siege of Maiozamalcha during the Persian campaign of the emperor Julian, but I am not so sure that he is right in ascribing it to Eunapius, or in the conclusions he draws from this ascription. I give in parallel columns the accounts of Ammianus Marcellinus, Zosimus, and the passage from Suidas, together with a further version of the incident, unfortunately without names, from the pen of Libanius

The only evidence we have concerning the date of Porphyry's is that it was written during his stay in Sicily, which lasted from 268 until his return to Rome after Plotinus’ death in 270. How soon after is unknown. Castricius’ lapse from the vegetarianism of the Plotinian school and Porphyry's attempt to recall him to the fold with De Abstinentia should presumably be placed after Plotinus’ death, and Porphyry was still in Sicily at the time. Cassius Longinus’ letter from Phoenicia, apparently written after Plotinus’ death, seems to have found Porphyry still in Sicily. Thus he may still have been there in 271, or possibly even later. There is nothing to support the common view that he returned to Rome immediately or even soon after Plotinus’ death.

In C.Q. N.S. xv (1965), 293 f., in a discussion of the popularity of theyounger Pliny's Letters in the late fourth century, I adduced three passages of St. Jerome which reveal acquaintance with the Letters. The list may be extended.