Τίπτε μοι τόδ’ ἔμπεδον δεῖμα προστατήριον καρδίας τερασκόπου ποτᾶται; μαντιπολεῖ δ’ ἀκέλευστος ἄμισθος ἀοιδά, οὐδ’ ἀποπτύσαι δίκαν δυσκρίτων ὀνειράτων θάρσος εὐπειθὲς ἵζει φρενὸς φίλον θρόνον; χρόνος δέ τοι πρυμνησίων ξυνεμβολαῖς ψαμμίας ἐξ ἀκτᾶς βέβηκεν, εὖθ’ ὑπ’ Ἴλιον ὦρτο ναυβάτας στρατός. It soon becomes plain that the passage is, at any rate in the main, trochaic. The first two lines scan easily, ending with a catalectic foot. We note that the third seems to drag at the end:— – ⏑ – ⏑ – ⏑ – ⏑ – – καρδι|ας τερ|ασκοπ|ου ποτ|αται, for we remember that in the trochaic octonarius the last complete foot is never a spondee. But in the fourth line we are quite baffled:— – ⏑ ⏑ – ⏑ ⏑ – μαντιπ|ολει δ | ακελευστ|ος...? Anapæsts are very rare in trochaics, iambi unknown. That the iambus should never replace the trochee is quite natural. It would be hideous rhythm, in the first line of _Locksley Hall_, instead of “Cómrades, leave me here a little ...,” to write “Dragoóns, leave me ...”. The foot ο̆λεῑ cannot be right. The line seems hopeless; or rather, if we have any knowledge of Homeric and Virgilian metre, we recognize something like the dactylic hexameter:— – ⏑ ⏑ – ⏑ ⏑ – ⏑ ⏑ – ⏑ ⏑ – – μαντιπολ|ει δ ακελ|ευστος αμ|ισθος α|οιδα. But is such a passage possible in a trochaic passage written for Greek music? It is known that in Greek music the notes corresponded closely to the syllables; music composed for trochees will certainly be in three-eighths time, for dactyls in four-eighths time. All these feet should have three beats, not four. The next two lines are plainly similar to the first and second. In the seventh line we first wonder why, though we are in the midst of a grammatical sentence, the words should begin farther to the right than is usual, as if for a new paragraph. When we try to scan, we find once more the iambus-difficulty:— – ⏑ – – ⏑ – θαρσος | ευπειθ|ες ιζ.... If we work backwards from the end, -ος φιλον θρονον gives the familiar trochaic-octonarius ending, –⏑|–⏑|–ꞈ. But the middle of the line has fallen to pieces, and for the present we leave it. The eighth line seems at first more familiar. Is it not the ordinary iambic senarius of § II? But where is the cæsura? And can we suddenly insert an iambic line into a trochaic system? Is it then possible after all to scan it as some kind of trochaics? Begin at the end. ... ε̅μ̅βο̆λα̅ι̅ςꞈ suits excellently; and if we work backwards we soon find that the whole would fall readily into trochaics if only we could ignore the first syllable:— – ⏑ – – – ⏑ – ⏑ – ⏑ – χρονος δε | τοι προμν|ησι|ων ξυν|εμβο|λαιςꞈ But why should we ignore it? And why does the line begin farther to the left? The ninth line again offers perplexity in the first half, clearness in the second:— – ⏑ – ⏑ – ⏑ ᷋ ηκεν | ευθ υπ | Ιλι|ονꞈ.