This article explores the propensity of Iliadic landscape similes to encourage reflections on human fragility. Landscape in the similes is usually interpreted as a medium which conveys a consistent symbolic value (for example storms as the hostility of nature); however, landscape is often a more flexible medium. By offering close readings of three Iliadic similes (winter torrents at 4.452–6, snowfall at 12.279–89 and clear night at 8.555–9), this article argues that landscape allowed the poet to frame the main narrative in various ways, both helping the listener to imagine described events and interrupting the listener's immersion in the main narrative. While many have analysed how similes offer analogies to the main narrative, the ways in which the same simile can also disrupt and reframe the narrative are less understood. This article observes that shifts in narrative space and time played a key role in changing the perspective of the listener. Taking a broadly phenomenological approach, it proposes that embodied descriptions of space, which recreate the experience of the moving body in landscape, invite the listener to consider the temporal scale of the natural world. By looking at how landscape in select similes shifts the listener's spatial and temporal experience, this article argues that landscape contributes to the wider Iliadic theme of human fragility. In particular, it identifies the potential for landscape similes to minimize the scale of human experience, question the possibility of human agency, and reveal the limitations of human perspectives and knowledge.

Our extant texts never give a fully comprehensive or representative impression of classical literature. Fragments are valuable because they tell—or hint at—a different story. They represent vestigial traces of a counterfactual alternative version of literary history, and they offer tantalizing glimpses of voices or varieties of human experience that were (accidentally or deliberately) excluded from the classical canon. To ‘think fragmentarily’ is to think beyond the canon and to question traditionally dominant modes of thought. This article uses a neglected fragment of Damoxenus (fr. 3 PCG) as a case study for ‘fragmentary thinking’. This extraordinary fragment reveals that Damoxenus’ comedy dramatized a homosexual love story, in sharp contrast to the familiar heteronormative marriage plots of Menander and other Greek and Roman comic playwrights. Careful examination of a single fragment can prompt us to re-examine conventional scholarly narratives of sexuality in New Comedy.

This article argues for an alternative interpretation of the ekphrasis of Pelops and Myrtilos among Adrastus’ parade of ancestral images in lines 6.283–5 of Statius’ Thebaid. The majority of scholarly readings believe that the scene described in these lines alludes to the mythical chariot-race between Pelops and Oenomaus. Using a combination of visual, intertextual and intratextual evidence, this article suggests that these lines more likely refer to a later part of the myth—Pelops’ murder of Myrtilos, as the former hurls the latter into the Myrtoan sea from a flying chariot. This paper concludes by exploring what implications this alternative reading has for our understanding of Statius’ use of ekphrasis as a narrative technique and, more specifically, its significance on our reading of the ekphrasis of Adrastus’ ancestral images.

This note addresses briefly the difficulties associated with the personalities named in the epigram Anth. Lat. 109.8 ShB and their roles before suggesting that tibi should be read rather than mihi in line 8.

De fato 35 is part of Cicero's argument against the Stoic theory of causation. He claims in general that the Stoic chain of causes consists of antecedent but not efficient causes. To the examples cited in the previous chapter he adds verses from the opening of Ennius’ Medea exul (lines 208–11 Jocelyn = FRL 2 and TRF 89.1–4) containing the Nurse's lamentation over the origins of the Argonautic expedition that led, ultimately, to Medea's current mental distress. Then follows the question quorsum haec praeterita? and the answer quia sequitur illud, ‘nam numquam era errans mea domo ecferret pedem | Medea, animo aegro, amore saeuo saucia’, non ut eae res causam adferrent amoris, citing Ennius, Medea exul 215–16 Jocelyn = FRL 2 and TRF 89.8–9. Editors and commentators have struggled to explain the relation of the answer to the question. Here it is argued that the relation becomes clear if one adopts non<ne> for non and punctuates with a query after amoris. The sense will be: ‘Why have these past events been cited? In view of the sequel … was it not so that they bring on the cause of love?’ In other words, the Nurse, like the Stoics in Cicero's view, cites antecedent events as if they were efficient causes.

This article examines a pair of anecdotes in the works of Suetonius and Cassius Dio, describing Nero's passionate late-career interest in the instrument known as the hydraulis or water-organ. The first half of the article contextualizes the water-organ episode in light of both the history of the instrument's reputation and the wider characterization of Nero in the literary sources. The rest of the article uses the episode to shed light on Nero's self-representation as princeps, focussing on the significance of the water-organ as both a musical instrument and a technological marvel. On the one hand, the organ's popularity with Roman audiences of the Early Imperial period made it a politically strategic choice for a music-loving emperor with strong populist leanings. On the other hand, the association of the organ with the intellectual world of Hellenistic Alexandria appealed to a certain group of Roman elites (including Nero himself), who shared a keen interest in technological innovation and technical knowledge more broadly. In the end, however, Nero's experiments with the water-organ were cleverly trivialized by hostile writers and redeployed as an illustration of the emperor's most appalling vices.