Sophocles for the use of Schools. Edited with Introductions and English Notes, by Lewis Campbell, M.A., LL.D., Professor of Greek in the University of St. Andrew's, and Evelyn Abbott, M.A., LL.D., Balliol College, Oxford. New and Revised Edition. In Two Volumes. Vol. I. Text. Vol. II. Explanatory Notes. 10s. 6d.

A novel photon-based proton model is developed. A proton’s ground state is assumed to be coherent to the degree that all of its mass-energy precipitates into a single uncharged spherical structure. A quantum vortex, initiated by the strong force, but sustained in the proton’s ground state by the circular Unruh effect and a spherical Rindler horizon, is proposed to confine the proton’s mass-energy in its ground state. A direct connection between the circular Unruh effect, the zitterbewegung effect, spin, and general (...) relativity is proposed. Such a structure acts as an uncharged zitterbewegung fermion, and may explain neutrino mass. A ground-state proton’s central zitterbewegung fermion is assumed to be surrounded by a halo of charge shells of both signs. Virtual photon standing waves are assumed to synchronize the inner shell with the central zitterbewegung fermion. The charge shells are proposed to be associated with isospin and proton g-factor. There are only two model inputs—proton mass and quantized electronic charge—and just one adjustable parameter. The adjustable parameter, reduced only by about 0.4% from an initial estimate, provides the proton’s experimentally determined magnetic moment to arbitrary precision. The resulting modeled proton charge radius agrees very well with the 2018 CODATA value. Magnetic moment and charge radius are calculated algebraically in a manner easily understood by undergraduate physics students. This proposed ground-state proton model could be considered a low-energy approximation to a full quantum chromodynamical proton model. (shrink)

So Diggle's recent text and apparatus criticus; so too its predecessor in the Oxford series . Advocates of πντα δ' ξελον βον have, however, been in a considerable majority, and include Porson, Elmsley, Bothe, Weil, Wecklein, Nauck, Paley, Verrall, Meridier, and, more recently, Schiassi and Ebener . But Page's objection cannot be lightly dismissed: ‘With βον here, σο must be understood; and the ellipse seems intolerable.’ To this I would add what appears to have been largely disregarded, namely that (...) the contextual and thematic significance of δμον is an even stronger argument in its favour. Medea is πολις , having lost not only her home in Colchis but also her new home in Corinth . In a sense the fate cruelly forced upon the daughters of Pelias by Medea is now visited upon Medea herself, who finds herself deserted and alone . This isolation brings with it the realization that to those to whom she should be ίλη she is now χθρ , while those whom she should be able to regard as λoι are now χθρ . Her response? As Medea had done in Iolcus, so δμον τε πντα συγχασʼ ονος | ξετιτι γαας κτλ. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:American Journal of Philology 123.4 (2002) 633-637 [Access article in PDF] Susan E. Alcock, John F. Cherry, and Jas; Elsner, eds. Pausanias: Travel and Memory in Roman Greece. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001. xii + 379 pp. Cloth, $65. As he moves from monument to monument and polis to polis, Pausanias gives the impression that the sun is always shining and the weather fresh and sweet. Beyond the next (...) turn in the road, there might be a grove or spring and maybe a precinct of Demeter, a statue of Artemis, or a little temple of Aphrodite. If they were "worth seeing," we can rely on Pausanias to let us know. Delivering a mixed narrative that weaves together history, myth, and his own style of ekphrasis, his even-toned voiceover makes him a comfortable traveling companion. Or does it? We know that the oaks on Mt. Parnon make the forest dark (they are still there today), but for Pausanias, the land is called Skotitas, "Dark," not for the shadows of the oaks, but for Zeus Skotitas who had his sanctuary nearby. As Ada Cohen points out in her essay, Pausanias does not describe the landscape itself but only the places where it intersects with divinity. As the collaborators here make clear, similar principles of selection operate on other levels. Pausanias may enable us to visualize a lost world, but the view is sanitized. Writing at the peak of Roman wealth, power, and privilege, he gives us old Greece with hardly a trace of Rome. He presents cities without houses, landscapes without agriculture, sanctuaries without worshippers, and the past without the present. Like the cardboard and cellophane 3-D glasses worn by cinema audiences in the 1950s, his text brings into temporary and unstable focus a very specialized scene, but the view is that of a virtual museum, a theme park created for our viewing enjoyment.How did he do it and what are the consequences? I admit that when it comes to Pausanias, I am one of those "seekers after lost religions" whom Elsner classifies with archaeologists surveying the text of Pausanias for possible excavation sites. We will all be a little more careful after reading this book. Yet, where else [End Page 633] could we find the information Pausanias gives? Habicht rehabilitated Pausanias in the 1980s by demonstrating how well his text stands up when compared with the surviving external record. Pausanias did not have a spreadsheet to keep straight the sixty-nine altars at Olympia, but he must at least have taken notes.The arrangement of the articles presented here replicates a familiar academic setting. Structured like a weekend conference, the book divides into three sessions ("The Traveler and the Text," "Studies and Comparisons," and "Nachleben"), with four papers and two comments in each session. Very generally, the topics are: landscape as language (J. Elsner); mental baggage and method (E. Bowie); informants and information (C. P. Jones); pilgrimage and the inspiration of vision (I. Rutherford); selection and cultural choice (M. Torelli); memory and memorization (D. Konstan); identity, monumentality and the recall of mo(nu)ments sublime (J. Porter); representation of space and movement (A. Cohen); archaic text and image on the chest of Kypselos (A. M. Snodgrass); filling the empty map of Messenia (S. E. Alcock); Greek narratives in Roman images (B. Bergmann); other Spartas (P. Cartledge); shaping the genre of travel writing (S. B. Sutton); Leake's Pausanias and Greek topography (J. M. Wagstaff); rearranging Pausanias or Farnell on Greek ritual (J. Henderson); Harrison and Verrall present Pausanias for the hoipolloi (M. Beard); Sparta and the French Enlightenment (S. Bann); and remembering and reforming the past (J. Cherry).There isn't space enough here to do justice to every argument, but I will take a sentence to praise the editors for inspiring the synergy of so many specialties. Archaeologists talk about texts; literary scholars talk about places and objects; and art historians discuss the relation between the two. The section entitled Nachleben surveys the nineteenth-century efflorescence of Pausanias and from four very different vantage points evaluates his influence on... (shrink)

The construction assumed for the first sentence in this passage is that adopted by Verrall and Headlam, apart from some differences in detail. It seems unlikely that δών can refer to what precedes, as some have thought; for it can hardly be supposed that the poet, who is using speed and economy , would pause to tell us that the great Seer merely ‘sees’ two distinctively coloured birds which ‘have appeared near by in a conspicuous station’ compare Homer's method (...) . Also it would involve us in the doubtful construction Ατρεϊδας έδάη λαγοδαίτας for ‘he knew the . to be the λ.’ ; the nearest parallel to this would appear to be Xen. Anab. 1. 7. 4 οους γνώσεσθε τοùς νθρπονς, where the adjective makes some difference. (shrink)

The lover of Aeschylus and Verrall, remembering the appendix to Verrall's Seven against Thebes, pricks up his ears at etetumos and listens for a verbal equivocation.

Many critics have condemned, some have defended, Euripides for composing a play ‘altogether wanting in the satisfaction which nothing but a unity of ideas could produce.’ It helps us little to marvel, with Paley, at the ‘obtuseness of critics who forsooth prefer “unity of ideas” to profoundly moving incidents, etc.,’ though it may be admitted that Paley has detected part of the truth when he calls attention to the importance of the fact that Athens is, throughout the play, the only (...) possible asylum for the hero. Verrall's analysis has the merit that it attempts to account for the play as a whole, but it is hard to believe that the Athenian audience was composed of subtle critics, endowed with Verrall's ingenuity and acumen. Still, though it is easy to disagree with Verrall, it is less easy to give the reasons for one's disagreement. In detail one can say: ‘The straightforward and obvious sense of the words is adequate; the subtle suggestion is not likely to have occurred to an audience which had never heard of Schlegel or of Swinburne.’ That leaves us with the fact that the impression made on most of us by the whole work is not one of formal perfection. To most readers there seem to be three episodes, each excellent, but not intimately connected with the other two: in the first we are concerned for the fate of the tyrant Lycus, and rejoice at his just destruction; in the second we are moved by the sudden reversal in the fortunes of the beneficent Heracles; and in the third we are impressed by the magnanimity, and, perhaps, delighted with the Athenian connections, of the excellent Theseus. There is a good deal of talk which we ascribe to the tendency of Euripides to make his characters the mouthpieces for current debate. There are choral odes which we think charming, but, on the whole and as a rule, slightly irrelevant to the main ‘incidents.’ My purpose in this paper is to suggest, first, that the audience was occupied with certain quite familiar ideas upon which Euripides has built his play, and was, therefore, not at leisure to catch at subtleties of detail, suggestions, ambiguities, ironies, points of logic and of lack of logic, such as Verrall emphasizes; and, secondly, that if we also remember these ideas, we shall find both unity in the construction and relevance in the choral odes. (shrink)

θήσμαιis not.is not‘I shall regard,’ as has often been supposed, for the reason that the two lines thus become tautological:‘I shall account my master's fortune prosperous; this beacon is a stroke of good luck.’ Verrall writes:'"My lord's good fortune I shall score to my game," i.e. regard it as my own.' The weakness of this seems to be that it gets too much out of the termination of one verb;1 something likeoίkειώσoμαι is needed to support the emphasis.

In beginning to speak of Euripides in this University of Manchester, one's thoughts naturally turn to the work of Professor Norwood in this direction, and it is with an especially keen sense of pleasure that I find myself not only following in his footsteps—a long way after!—but helping in a small way to contribute some further confirmation to the views on Euripides established by him and Professor Verrall.

In this study, we argue that contemporary nursing care has been overtaken by new public management strategies aimed at curtailing budgets in the public hospital sector in Australia. Drawing on qualitative interviews with 15 nurses from one public acute hospital with supporting documentary evidence, we demonstrate what happens to nursing work when management imposesroundingas a risk reduction strategy. In the case study outlined rounding was introduced across all wards in response to missed care, which in turn arose as a result (...) of work intensification produced by efficiency, productivity, effectiveness and accountability demands. Rounding is a commercially sponsored practice consistent with new public management. Our study illustrates the impact that new public management strategies such as rounding have on how nurses work, both in terms of work intensity and in who controls their labour. (shrink)