Socrates. Had the Epidaurians instituted a contest of rhapsody in honour of the God?
Ion. And not in rhapsodies alone; there were contests in every species of music.
Socrates. And in which did you contend? And what was the success of your efforts?
Ion. I bore away the first prize at the games, O Socrates.
Socrates. Well done! You have now only to consider how you shall win the Panathenæa.
Ion. That may also happen, God willing.
Socrates. Your profession, O Ion, has often appeared to me an enviable one. For, together with the nicest care of your person, and the most studied elegance of dress, it imposes upon you the necessity of a familiar acquaintance with many and excellent poets, and especially with Homer, the most admirable of them all. Nor is it merely because you can repeat the verses of this great poet, that I envy you, but because you fathom his inmost thoughts. For he is no rhapsodist who does not understand the whole scope and intention of the poet, and is not capable of interpreting it to his audience. This he cannot do without a full comprehension of the meaning of the author he undertakes to illustrate; and worthy, indeed, of envy are those who can fulfil these conditions.
Ion. Thou speakest truth, O Socrates. And, indeed, I have expended my study particularly on this part of my profession. I flatter myself that no man living excels me in the interpretation of Homer; neither Metrodorus of Lampsacus, nor Stesimbrotus the Thasian, nor Glauco, nor any other rhapsodist of the present times can express so many various and beautiful thoughts upon Homer as I can.
Socrates. I am persuaded of your eminent skill, O Ion. You will not, I hope, refuse me a specimen of it?
Ion. And, indeed, it would be worth your while to hear me declaim upon Homer. I deserve a golden crown from his admirers.