The horses would them like to horses sketch,
To oxen, oxen, and their bodies make
Of such a shape as to themselves belongs.”
Let us hear, then, the lyric poet Bacchylides speaking of the divine:
“Who to diseases dire[858] never succumb,
And blameless are; in nought resembling men.”
And also Cleanthes, the Stoic, who writes thus in a poem on the Deity:[859]
“If you ask what is the nature of the good, listen—
That which is regular, just, holy, pious,
Self-governing, useful, fair, fitting,