Dr. Leaf finds the passage full of ‘healthy sensuousness,’ but to other readers it may well seem thoroughly unpleasant, both in its sentiment and its language—for example, the horrible reiteration of ΤΟΙ, ‘mon chéri,’ at the end of Hera’s speech of invitation. Still, it is a valuable document. The brutal god and the crafty goddess are plainly the poet’s ideals of man and woman; and his ideals are very low. These two passages from the Iliad may serve as specimens of the second method of attack, that of sarcastic depreciation under the guise of realism, of which we have some further examples in Hesiod. The strange medley that now bears his name is in the same position as the Iliad. There is much ancient wisdom, in which woman has little part. ‘Get first a house, and then a woman, and then a ploughing ox,’ and there are also many passages plainly inspired by the new Ionian spirit. The few facts that we know of Hesiod’s life would suggest that he was an Ionian poet who migrated to Bœotia, and incorporated into his verse the ancient lore of the country, much of it as old as anything we have in Greek literature. Hesiod’s father was a merchant who lived at Kyme, on the coast of Asia Minor. The son passed most of his life at Askra, but of his life we know little, of his death a good deal. He had a friend, a citizen of Miletus, who came to stay with him in Greece. The two Ionians travelling together were entertained by one Phegeus, a citizen of Locris. They repaid his hospitality by seducing his daughter: the girl committed suicide, and her brothers, taking the law into their own hands, avenged her ruin by killing both Hesiod and his friend, who indeed was said to have been the chief culprit. This tale, which is by far the best-authenticated fact in Hesiod’s life, does not give us a very pleasant impression as to the poet’s capacity for passing judgment on women, and probably the details of the Pandora myth are his own invention. The story itself is very old, but, as told by Hesiod, it has all the sham epic machinery, while it is linked on to the ancient fable of Prometheus. To revenge the gift of fire to men, Zeus resolves to make a woman. ‘I will give them an evil thing,’ he says; ‘every man in his heart will rejoice therein and hug his own misfortune.’ Accordingly, Hephaestus mixes the paste and fashions the doll. Athena gives her skill in weaving, Aphrodite ‘sheds charm about her head and baleful desire and passion that eats away the strength of men.’ Finally, Hermes gives her ‘a dog’s shameless mind and thieving ways.’ Then the doll is dressed with kirtle and girdle, chains of gold are hung about her body, spring flowers put upon her head, and she is sent down to earth. ‘A sheer and hopeless delusion, to be the bane of men who work for their bread.’