Orationes 8

47. Happy indeed is the race of poets, and in every way exempt from troubles. For not only is it open to them to set up such themes as they themselves may wish on each occasion — themes neither true nor sometimes even plausible, but not even having any coherence at all, if one wished to look at them rightly — but they also handle these themes just as it seems good to them, with conceits and devices, of which some, if one were to take away what comes before and after, one could not even learn, taken just by themselves, what they mean. But when all is said together, we understand and accept it, as though pleased that we have understood. Of some they have stated the beginnings and then let the rest go, as though condemning it; of others they have robbed the beginning, and of others again excised the middle, and thought it sufficient, like tyrants over their conceits. And then nothing is unventured or beyond their resources, but they raise up gods from the machine, and put them aboard ship to sail with whomever they please, and make them not only sit, if it so chance, beside men, but even drink with them and hold lamps to make light. And in this they are so magnificent — and from this the whole of this discourse set out — that they are happy, in Homer's very phrase, "living at ease," whenever they make their hymns and paeans to the gods. The strophes or periods fill out the whole. And when they have said "sea-girt Delos," or "Zeus delighting in thunder," or "the loud-roaring deep," and have passed on to how Heracles came to the Hyperboreans, and how Iamus was an ancient seer, or how Heracles overcame Antaeus, or have added Minos, or Rhadamanthys, or Phasis, or 48. Ister, or how they themselves are nurslings of the Muses and certain unconquerable masters of wisdom in their utterance, they think they have hymned the god sufficiently for themselves, and not one of the laymen demands anything more of them. And we hold them so very sacred and exalt them so highly that we have yielded to them even the very making of hymns to the gods and the addressing of them, as though they were truly the prophets of the gods. And not even the man whose appointed task it is to set forth rightly and to handle in all things, with full examination, what is fitting, and to go through every exactness so far as is possible for a man — not even he do we think should use his art at all toward the gods; but for all other contests we use speech, and we praise festal gatherings and recount the deeds of men and wars, and we compose tales, and contend in the law-courts, and our speech, one may say, comes to everything; but toward the very gods who gave it to us we do not at all think fit to use it. Rather, concerning the rites themselves and the sacrifices that are performed, we have, in prose, set forth what must be done, writing laws; but hymns we do not think we ought to make in this manner. Is it then that the poets have need of the gods, but we of what it is not lawful to speak? Yet this very thing is attested even by the poets themselves, that "all men have need of the gods." It is fitting, then, that all should honour them according to the power that each possesses. But are the poets alone dear to the gods, and from them alone do the gods most gladly receive their gifts? Why then did we not make the poets alone the priests of the gods as well? Is it because, by Zeus, the prophets of the gods, all who are skilled in divination, declare in metre what must be done? But the greater part, by Zeus, is declared without metre — by the prophetess herself at Delphi, by the priestesses at Dodona, by Trophonius, by the dreams from Asclepius and Sarapis. And indeed it is more in accordance with nature for a man to use prose, just as it is, I think, more natural 49. to walk than to be carried in a vehicle. For metres did not come first, and then speech and conversation were thus discovered; nor did men become poets and then arrange the words one must use; but words and prose existing, the worker of these — poetry — came in afterward, for the sake of a certain charm and pleasing of the soul. So that if we honour nature, we should be honouring the arrangement and will of the gods themselves; and we should be doing better, even in the poets' own judgement, by holding more honourable the earlier and elder thing, in addressing the gods who arranged all these things with such an address — just as we are not ashamed to address ourselves without metres.

These things I have said not to dishonour the race of poets, nor to take away the rank they hold, but to demonstrate, from the very things conceded to them, that this too we might justly reckon in addition, like sacrificial victims set beside what already exists. And if what is according to nature is, in whatever case you may name, more pleasing to the gods, then we should, in all likelihood, be more pleasing to them by honouring them in this way than in that; and the gods would rather honour us, if we should render the precedence to the same things to which they render it; since even metre itself assigns the fair fame of the name to the poets, but in usefulness is far more ours. For there the line measures only the iambic verse, whether it fills out the cadence; but here it measures out the whole discourse and truly runs through all, and begins at once from the noun. For it allows neither to exceed nor to fall short of the worth, but bids one render to each what is its due. Then it does not allow superfluous things to be thrown in — which is ridiculous — for the sake of the metre; then, coming to the periods, it demands the self-sufficient, the hardest, I think, of all metres; and over all these it surveys this which I said before, whether the whole has symmetry, and whether it has fulfilled the proposed aim. Just as, then, 50. the market measures by which we reckon are, I think, the very thing they are called; yet we would not say that it is most among the hucksters that the hitting of the measure is to be found, because they possess a choenix and a cotyle, but these are the measures of particular things — or rather the names, so to speak, of measure; while the whole measure, to which these too are often needed, and to which all things must be referred concerning every matter, and which is what is truly worth the whole and conduces to virtue — something else, we would say, both to know and to possess: so here too there are these particular measures among the poets, I think, but not the whole measure among them. And one should by no means shrink, on account of the fair fame of the name, as though the poets alone knew the measure of discourses. For it is possible, even without metres, to hit the measure of such things, and the contrary too — just as a physician, without weights and measures, can reckon what is needful, and again one who uses these can err through inexperience of the matter for which the measures are wanted. But I am not unaware, as I said, that it is far easier to do these things in song than in prose, and that to the poets such contests have been yielded; and reasonably. For they have many advantages, and are sovereign to make whatever they please. But for us it is not permitted to open a jar of hymns, nor a chariot of the Muse, nor a ship of ten thousand burden, nor clouds, nor griffins, nor any such thing, nor to be over-bold, nor to throw in a phrase outside the matter; but we must truly remain within the measure, and remember ourselves through everything, like a man keeping his post on campaign. Nevertheless we must try to carry through the address, especially as we are also fulfilling a vow, since we were saved, and at the same time it is not fitting to dwell on discoursing about measure. So be it. For you indeed every man calls upon as a helper in every crisis, Sarapis; grant that I may speak this discourse 51. graciously — for nothing is impossible to you — and provide a beginning that is dear to you; and as you gave the first things, so, hearkening, become the giver of the second also. For all things everywhere, through you and for your sake, come to us, all that we would most wish to come to us.

Who the god is, and what nature he has, let it be left to the priests and learned men of the Egyptians to say and to know; but how many and what manner of good things he is shown to be the cause of for men — these I might praise sufficiently, speaking as for the present occasion; and at the same time his nature too may be examined through these very things. For if we say what he is able to do and bestows, we have well-nigh said both who he is and what nature he has. For he is not other than such as he reveals and shows himself from his works. What, then, are the works of Sarapis? This, it seems to me, does not yet require a human answer. Why, Homer says that he could not, even with ten tongues and ten mouths, tell the number of the ships that followed the Achaeans, unless the Muses should tell him and lead his discourse; but for me to tell the works and gifts of the greatest of the gods, ever being accomplished toward men — surely it is utterly impossible, even if one acquired the mouths of all men and all the human voice there is, unless some gods should truly become the leaders of my discourse. And so let gods be called upon again, and let us tell the works of the god. For he wishes and grants that men should speak of those things by which the life of men is administered and preserved — these are the works of Sarapis. And we must begin, as they say, from the beginning. These three things are observed in every man and hold his life together: the soul, the body, and all those things outside these that come into use. Over all these this god is set, both leading us from the beginning into the light and into his own dominion, and, once we are born, taking forethought how each thing shall be ours: adorning our soul with wisdom, which alone shows to men their 52. kinship with the gods, and by which we differ from other mortal creatures or living things; which gave men the very conception of the gods, and discovered rites and initiations and all honours, and further taught and established laws and civic life and all contrivances and all the arts, and gave the discernment of false and true, and, in a word, made our life — purifying the soul, as I said, with wisdom, and preserving the body by giving it health, without which it is possible neither to use the goods of the soul nor to enjoy any other good fortune. And health has such power and honour among gods and men that it does not even depart from the houses of the gods — not before, at any rate, the stars from heaven and heaven itself should ever depart from its own region; and as for men, those whom it abandons are pitied while living more than when dead. And it alone is equally honoured by kings and by private men, equally by the wise and the base, by the great and the lesser, by those who fare well and the reverse: to the one giving the enjoyment of their existing happiness, and to the others becoming, alone, a recompense for all their other troubles. And again that possession after health most earnestly sought by men — the possession of wealth — this too Sarapis gives, without wars and battle and dangers; so kindly is he to us through the whole of life, and no region was left idle to this god, but, together with those things by which a man must be conceived, he examines all things, and in every part has benefaction, beginning from the soul and ending in the outward resources. And he has made our life for us a kind of harmony and joined it together with his gifts, making us love wisdom through health, and rendering health sweeter with abundance, and binding together the extremes by the middle as by a peg, and securing by health the goods of the soul and the enjoyment of our possessions. How then must one not proclaim him 53. in festal gatherings and on all days as the guardian and saviour of all men, a self-sufficient god?

And indeed, holding together for men the whole measures of life, and being the steward of what makes life livable, on this account he might justly be thought to have embraced all things and, as it were, to steer the whole of our life. The citizens, then, of the great city beside Egypt invoke him as Zeus also, and as one Zeus, because he has not been left behind in any surpassing power, but comes through all things and has filled the whole. For of the other gods the powers and the honours are divided, and men call upon different gods for different things; but he, as it were the leader of the chorus, holds the beginnings and ends of all things. And he alone is ready for the man who has need of anything to call upon; so that men, with respect to the others, are not carried along in the same way, but honour different gods, some these, some those, while this one alone all alike reckon among their own. For because he holds the powers of all, some serve him instead of all the rest, while others reckon him too in addition to whatever gods they reckon for any purpose, as one common and pre-eminent over the whole earth. And not only does he hold all the powers on earth, being one in each, nor is he posted, as one god here and another there, nor did he draw by Homer's lot a third part, as that poet said Zeus and Poseidon and Pluto divided by lot; but this god is great also in the sea, and merchant-ships and triremes are steered under him, and in the upper air and the clouds — that the care of land and sea should belong to him, reason compels us to conclude. Homer, then, said that the earth was left in common, and Olympus, to the gods; but he is shown to be both the special holder of the earth's lot, surpassing others, and again the partner of each in his own several portions, being himself all things to all, one able for the same things, working together every action and every supply of resources 54. in all crises and places, holding, the poets would say, the keys of land and sea; since even after the necessary end of life he still remains ruler over men. And to him one must walk from himself — this, indeed, that is said, "from home homeward," to himself. And he it is who assigns to each their places according to their worth, in respect of their way of life upon earth and of the judgement of those who come after, by day going over the things above the earth, and by night making the judgements unseen by the living — himself saviour and conductor of souls, leading into the light and again receiving, in every way embracing all. And if a man makes mention of any of the gods, and of Sarapis, he is filled at once with both good cheer and awe. For he is the most benevolent of the gods and himself the most fearful, holding for men the profitable fear, that they may neither do nor suffer evil at one another's hands, nor by one another. Toward pity, then, he is the more inclined; and what Homer said of all the gods, that they are "to be turned and entreated," this he most of all confirms — so many turns he turns for the salvation of those who from time to time have need. And accordingly men share in sacrifices with this god alone, in pre-eminent degree, in the exact partnership, both calling him to the hearth and setting him forth as guest and host, so that, while different men fill up different feast-clubs, he is the common filler of all feast-clubs, holding the rank of master of the feast for those who from time to time gather in the same place. Just as Homer said that Athena herself both poured the libation and performed each rite, being herself both a sharer in the libation and the one who receives the libations, both coming to the revel and calling revellers to himself, who, dancing under him the dance free from evils, and carrying home with their garlands the good cheer, render the second libation, having called upon him. And much the same is the partnership with him in other respects too — an equal-honoured partnership, not toward an equal in honour, such as that 55. of merchants and shipowners, who not only set apart tithes, but even make him a partner on equal terms, as a fellow-merchant and partner in all that passes between — to such a degree has he been mingled in with men. He it is who is in very truth the steward of the winds, far more than the islander whom Homer made; he it is who is "master both to still them and to rouse whomever he will"; he sent up sweet water in the midst of the sea; he raised up the prostrate; he showed the much-desired light of the sun to its beholders, whose sacred repositories hold countless numbers of holy books. And full, they say, are the market-places and harbours and the open spaces of the cities of those who recount his works one by one. But for me, attempting to speak, an endless multitude of days flowing in will hold the catalogue still unfinished. For his works do not stand still, nor are they only so many as have already happened, but by day and night others come on upon others. And just as, with all eternity advancing each single day, one cannot say what has been spent, but always the equal remains, so neither, of the works which the god works, is it possible to say whether those we have received are the more, or those that are to come; so many do they become. If, then, anyone should attempt to recount these, he will be pursuing what escapes him, like those who pursue the streams of rivers from behind; and he will do much as if he claimed to live all eternity — for he would certainly need it.

But these things in their seasons different men will proclaim, some seeing them happen in themselves, others in others. And let it now be said by us in a common discourse, as in the announcement of a truce. There is no fear at all that we shall speak falsely. What, then, we laid down at the beginning is shown through all: that these things, by which the human race is led, are the works of Sarapis, and that we never escape his power, but that he both preserves us, and that there is hereafter the providence that comes from him.

56. And he presides also over the birth and nourishment of all living things, and many of the sacred animals, like men, are fed at his table. He brings up the Nile in the season of summer, he calls it back in winter; he holds the forty-two sanctuaries throughout Egypt; he holds together and adorns all the temples in the land, guardian of the manifest and the secret, leader of men and divinities. And now he will turn our discourse round to himself, and, when we have addressed him, it is time to make an end. O you who hold the fairest of the cities you behold, which fulfils for you the festal gathering each year; O light common to all men, who appeared to us also conspicuously not long ago, when, the sea pouring in and rising high on every side, and nothing visible but destruction coming and well-nigh already present, you, lifting your hand, revealed the hidden sky and granted us to see land and to come to anchor, so far beyond hope that we could not believe it even when we had set foot ashore — for these things great thanks be to you, much-honoured one; and now too do not abandon me, but save me securely, and receive this hymn, made as it could be in such circumstances, with a glad welcome: a thank-offering for those former things, and a supplication and entreaty concerning the things to come, that they may prove sweeter and better than the present.