my mind a line of poetry in which he is said to be the god
who

'Gives peace on earth and calms the stormy deep, Who stills the winds
and bids the sufferer sleep.'

This is he who empties men of disaffection and fills them with
affection, who makes them to meet together at banquets such as these: in
sacrifices, feasts, dances, he is our lord--who sends courtesy and sends
away discourtesy, who gives kindness ever and never gives unkindness;
the friend of the good, the wonder of the wise, the amazement of the
gods; desired by those who have no part in him, and precious to those
who have the better part in him; parent of delicacy, luxury, desire,
fondness, softness, grace; regardful of the good, regardless of the
evil: in every word, work, wish, fear--saviour, pilot, comrade, helper;
glory of gods and men, leader best and brightest: in whose footsteps
let every man follow, sweetly singing in his honour and joining in that
sweet strain with which love charms the souls of gods and men. Such
is the speech, Phaedrus, half-playful, yet having a certain measure of
seriousness, which, according to my ability, I dedicate to the god.

When Agathon had done speaking, Aristodemus said that there was a
general cheer; the young man was thought to have spoken in a manner
worthy of himself, and of the god. And Socrates, looking at Eryximachus,
said: Tell me, son of Acumenus, was there not reason in my fears? and
was I not a true prophet when I said that Agathon would make a wonderful
oration, and that I should be in a strait?

The part of the prophecy which concerns Agathon, replied Eryximachus,
appears to me to be true; but not the other part--that you will be in a
strait.

Why, my dear friend, said Socrates, must not I or any one be in a strait
who has to speak after he has heard such a rich and varied discourse? I
am especially struck with the beauty of the concluding words--who could
listen to them without amazement? When I reflected on the immeasurable
inferiority of my own powers, I was ready to run away for shame, if
there had been a possibility of escape. For I was reminded of Gorgias,
and at the end of his speech I fancied that Agathon was shaking at me
the Gorginian or Gorgonian head of the great master of rhetoric, which
was simply to turn me and my speech into stone, as Homer says (Odyssey),
and strike me dumb. And then I perceived how foolish I had been in
consenting to take my turn with you in praising love, and saying