increase the number of the scattered Cyclades, as that accomplished poet finely says; with an exaltation of language too in keeping with his theme, he exclaims: All was sea; to the sea there was no shore. It is a pity he reduced that burst of genius and his splendid subject to childish twaddle by adding: The wolf has to swim among the sheep, the wave carries tawny lions. There is too little seriousness in making sport in this way when the 13 earth has been swallowed up. He expressed a fine thought and caught a vivid picture of the utter confusion when he said: Through the open plains the rivers wander at their will, ... The towers totter and sink beneath the flood. That was splendid, if he had not minded what the wolf and the sheep were doing. Could anything, in fact, swim amid such deluge and destruction? Was not every hoof drowned in the same torrent as carried it off? You conceived a worthy image, Ovid, when all the world was overwhelmed, and the sky itself descended upon earth. Keep it up. You will know what it ought to be if you reflect that the whole world was afloat. Now we must return to our discussion. XXVIII There is a section of philosophers who hold that while the earth may 1 be greatly harassed by excessive rains, it cannot be overwhelmed by them. By a mighty blow this mighty earth must be smitten. Rain will spoil the crops, hail will knock off the fruit; but the rivers will only be swollen above their banks, and will subside again. Some, again, are satisfied that the cause of the widespread destruction will be derived from the movements of the sea. The great shipwreck of the world cannot, they think, arise from injury by cataract, river, or rain. I am willing to grant that when that day of destruction is at hand, and 2 Heaven is resolved to create a new race of men, the rain will pour down incessantly, and there will be no limit to the floods, the north and other dry winds will cease to blow; the south will bring up in plenty clouds and rain and stream. But hitherto only damage has been inflicted. The crops are laid low, and to the grief of the farmer, All hope of increase is abandoned; the toil of the long year is wasted and vain.