“Just as in choruses not every one doth sing, But certain two or three mere speechless dummies stand Filling the rows, so here ’tis somehow similar: _These_ fill a space, while these, to whom God grants it, _live_!” The precinct of the Asclepieum, adjoining the Theatre, was a Sanatorium where religion and faith-cures were combined with actual medical skill. In the “Plutus” of Aristophanes the blind god, Wealth, is restored to discriminating vision. His head was covered by “Panacea” with a purple cloth, and two expert snakes operated upon his eyes.[10] This comic scene is not, it may easily be credited, too much of a burlesque upon some of the practices at such places. Magic miracles, including the “absent treatment” of recalcitrant lovers, are not unknown in other ages. But a visit to the famous health-resort of the great school of Hippocrates, on the island of Cos, will tend to inspire a respect for Greek therapeutics. The “open-air” treatment on the mountain terrace overlooking the sea may have been modern enough, and, along with the use of the sulphur spring, suggests both technical knowledge and common sense. Footnote 10: See Gardner, _Ancient Athens_, pp. 429 ff., for a vivid account of this scene and subject. Close by the Theatre to the east, hemmed in by modern houses, the beautiful little circular shrine, the Choragic Monument of Lysicrates, reminds us of the cost and rivalry attendant upon bringing out the dramas. The weathered sculpture around the top speaks once again of the inseparable connection of Athenian life and literature. It carries us back to the Homeric Hymn to Dionysus. The pirates who kidnapped the god are here undergoing punishment; some, already half changed into dolphins, are diving into the sea. In the hymn the pirates, who have carried off the youth in his purple robe, deem him a rich prize for ransom. But the vine with clustering grapes that presently entwines sail and yards proclaims the god. He transformed himself into a bear, then a lion, and they at the sight,— “All of them shunning the doom that was on them, together out-springing, Leaped to the water divine and, leaping, were turned into dolphins.” The combination at Athens of natural beauty and material splendour with moral and intellectual worth called forth praise from both guests and citizens. To Bacchylides of Ceos the city is “spacious Athens,” “splendour-loving.” The Graces “wreath-winning and violet-eyed” are to dower his songs with honour when he addresses himself to its specific praise:— “Brooding thought of the Cean isle Poet’s care men praised erst-while, Weave me now a web of song Resplendent, fit for Athens strong Where love and loveliness belong.” And Pindar, fresh from the gardens of Thebes, was impressed by the beauty of Athens at the vernal Dionysia:—