35
When he had said this and much more of the © same sort, he ended his talk. Until then I had listened to him in awe, fearing that he would cease. When he stopped, I felt like the Phaeacians of old,Odyss. 11, 333. for I stared at him a long time spellbound. Afterwards, in a great fit of confusion and giddiness, I dripped with sweat, I stumbled and stuck in the endeavour to speak, my voice failed, my tongue faltered, and finally I began to cry in embarrassment; for the effect he produced: in me was not superficial or casual. My wound was deep and vital, and his words, shot with great accuracy, clove, if I may say so, my very soul in twain.
36
For if I too may now adopt the language of a philosopher, my conception of the matter is that the soul of a well-endowed man resembles a very tender target. Many bowmen, their quivers full of words of all sorts and kinds, shoot at it during life, but not with success in every case. Some draw to the head and let fly harder than they should: though they hit the target, their arrows do not stick in it, but owing to their momentum go through and continue their flight, leaving only a gaping wound in the soul.. Others, again, do the opposite; themselves too weak, their bows too slack, the arrows do not even carry to the target as a rule, but often fall spent at half the distance; and if ever they do carry, they strike with a mere fret o’ the skin, Iliad 17, 599. and do not make a deep wound, as they were not sped with a strong pull.
