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SYNESIUS

SYRUS

will return one day to their native land, butthey will return as enemies. The young manwill devastate the fields which he cultivated asa boy by his lather’s side. Yet if we had hadgood generals it would have been easy enough totake vengeance on this sacrilegious and contemp-tuous enemy. What holy places have thebarbarians spared ? Have they not devastatedthe very tombs upon the plain of Barca ? Havethey not burnt and ruined my churches atAmpelis ? Have they not defiled the holy tables,and used them for their feasts ? Have not thesacred vessels of our public worship been carriedoff to be used in the worship of daemons ? It isuseless to speak of the forts they have demolished,the cattle they have seized in the caves of themountains, the goods they have carried off.Pentapolis is ruined, is extinguished, has perished.I have no longer a country to fly from . . . Alasfor Cyrene where the public records trace mydescent from Hercules! Alas for the tombswhere I shall not be laid, the tombs of theDorians! Alas for Pentapolis, of which I amthe last bishop! But the calamity is too nearme—I can say no more—tears check my tongue.... I am overwhelmed at the thought of aban-doning the house and services of God. I mustsail away to some island, but when I am sum-moned to the ship I shall pray them to leave mea little longer here. First I shall go to God’stemple; I shall embrace the altar, I shall wetwith my tears the precious pavement, I will notleave till I have kissed the well-known door, thewell-known seat. How often shall I call on Godfor help ; how often shall I turn back, how oftenclasp the altar-screen ... I would I could re-fresh my eyes with sleep, unbroken by thetrumpet’s sound. How long am I to be sta-tioned on the battlements, how long am I tomount guard upon the wall? I am weary ofsetting the watches, guarding and being guardedin turn. I, who used to spend whole nights inobserving the movements of the stars, am wornout by looking night after night for the move-ments of the enemy. Our time for sleep ismeasured by the water-clock, and often itis broken by the alarm bell. And if I do dozea little, what frightful dreams I have! In mydreams I fly, I am taken prisoner, 1 am wounded,I am fettered, I am sold as a slave. How oftenhave I started from my sleep with joy because Iescaped from my tyrant! How often have Iawoke panting, bathed in perspiration, for theend of my sleep was the end of my flight fromthe soldier who pursued me ... If the islandsare free from such troubles as these, I will cer-tainly set sail when the storm is abated. But Ifear the calamity will overtake us before we canescape. The day for the assault draws near.When the peril of the city is extreme, then willbe especially the time for the bishop to hasten toGod’s temple. I will stay in my country, in mychurch. I will place before me the sacredvessels of holy water. I will cling to the sacredpillars which raise the holy table from theground. There will I remain while living, therewill I lie when dead. I am God’s minister,appointed to present the offerings to Him : it isperhaps His will that I should present to Him theoffering of my life. Surely God will not lookwith indifference on His altar, stained for the firsttime with blood, the blood of His bishop.”

But this was not to be. A new general Marcellinus, arrived “ like a God upon the scene ”la a short time discipliae was restored amoncthe soldiers, and the Ausurians defeated in adecisive battle. Ptolemais was saved for atime, but the country was ruined. The enemywere gone, but desolation, poverty, and diseaseremained. In the winter Synesius lost “ the lastcomfort of his life, his little son.” The blow wastoo much for the father already crushed by thecares of his office, the labours of the siege, andthe misery of his country. As death drew’nearhis thoughts were curiously divided between thetwo objects to which in life he had given hisfaith. His last letter was addressed to Hypatia.His last poem was a prayer to Christ. Thepagan philosopher retained to the end thereverence and affection of the Christian bishop.“You have been to me a mother, a sister, ateacher, and in all these relationships have doneme good. Every title and sign of honour is yourdue. As for me, my bodily sickness comes fromsickness of the mind. The recollection of thechildren who are gone is slowly killing me.Would to God I could either cease to live, orcease to think of my children’s graves.” In thehymn to Christ Synesius added an epilogue tothe poems in which he had already recountedthe drama of his soul. The actor who began soconfident of success ended with a humble prayerfor pardon. “ 0 Christ, Son of God most high,have mercy on Thy servant, a miserable sinner,who wrote these hymns. Release me from thesins which have grown up in my heart, whichare implanted in my polluted soul. 0 SaviourJesus, grant that hereafter I may behold Thydivine glory.” So in gloom and sadness, cheeredby the Christian hope of the resurrection, closedthe career of one, who in his time had indeedplayed many parts, who had been a soldier, astatesman, an orator, a poet, a sophist, a philo-sopher, a bishop, and in all these characters hadacted as a man who deserved to be admired andstill more to be loved. [T. R. H.]

Note. —This article was written by the Rev. T. R.Halcomb, Fellow of Lincoln College, Oxford, who diedprematurely at Nice in the summer of 18 H 0 . Mr. Hal-comb has also left behind him a considerable work onSt. Gregory the Great, but it is unfortunately in tooincomplete a condition to be published.

SYNUSIASTAE (SvvovtnmrTaC), a namegiven by Cyril to those who maintained that thedivine and human natures were so united in oneChrist that only one nature remained after theUnion. (Cyrill. Alex. Opp. ed. Migne, Pair.Graec. Ixxvi. 1427 ; Mai, Bib. Bov. Putnim, ii.445.) [Polemics (1).] [G. T. S.]

SYRIANUS, dux of Egypt, who in 356, in-stigated by the Arians, burst with his armedsoldiery into the cathedral of Alexandria in thetime of divine worship, when men were tram-pled down, women crushed to death and some ofthem stripped naked, while Athanasius himselfbarely escaped being torn in pieces (Athan. Ap.ad Const. $§ 22, 25, Hist. Ar. ad Mon. § 81JTillem. viii. 151, 153-156). [G> HJ

SYRUS, the abbat of a monastery in Egypt*to whom is addressed one of the epistles otBachomius with a mystic use of the Greek