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Select Epigrams from the Greek Anthology Part 22

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Pluto turns away the dead rhetorician Marcus, saying, "Let the dog Cerberus suffice us here; yet if thou needs must, declaim to Ixion and Melito the song-writer, and t.i.tyus; for I have no worse evil than thee, till Rufus the critic comes to murder the language here."

XXV CALAMUS AUTHOR UNKNOWN

I the reed was a useless plant; for out of me grew not figs nor apple nor grape-cl.u.s.ter; but man consecrated me a daughter of Helicon, piercing my delicate lips and making me the channel of a narrow stream; and thenceforth, whenever I sip black drink, like one inspired I speak all words with this voiceless mouth.

XXVI IN THE CLa.s.sROOM CALLIMACHUS

Simus son of Miccus, giving me to the Muses, asked for himself learning, and they, like Glaucus, gave a great gift for a little one; and I lean gaping up against this double letter of the Samian, a tragic Dionysus, listening to the little boys; and they repeat /Holy is the hair/, telling me my own dream.



XXVII THE POOR SCHOLAR ARISTON

O mice, if you are come after bread, go to another cupboard (for we live in a tiny cottage) where you will feed daintily on rich cheese and dried raisins, and make an abundant supper off the sc.r.a.ps; but if you sharpen your teeth again on my books and come in with your graceless rioting, you shall howl for it.

XXVIII THE HIGHER METAPHYSIC AGATHIAS

That second Aristotle, Nicostratus, Plato's peer, splitter of the straws of the sublimest philosophy, was asked about the soul as follows: How may one rightly describe the soul, as mortal, or, on the contrary, immortal? and should we speak of it as a body or incorporeal? and is it to be placed among intelligible or sensible objects, or compounded of both? So he read through the treatises of the transcendentalists, and Aristotle's /de Anima/, and explored the Platonic heights of the /Phaedo/, and wove into a single fabric the whole exact truth on all its sides. Then wrapping his threadbare cloak about him, and stroking down the end of his beard, he proffered the solution:--If there exists at all a nature of the soul--for of this I am not sure--it is certainly either mortal or immortal, of solid nature or immaterial; however, when you cross Acheron, there you shall know the certainty like Plato. And if you will, imitate young Cleombrotus of Ambracia, and let your body drop from the roof; and you may at once recognise your self apart from the body by merely getting rid of the subject of your inquiry.

XXIX THE PHAEDO OF PLATO AUTHOR UNKNOWN

If Plato did not write me, there were two Platos; I carry in me all the flowers of Socratic talk. But Panaetius concluded me to be spurious; yes, he who concluded that the soul was mortal, would conclude me spurious as well.

x.x.x CLEOMBROTUS OF AMBRACIA CALLIMACHUS

Saying, "Farewell, O Sun," Cleombrotus of Ambracia leaped off a high wall to Hades, having seen no evil worthy of death, but only having read that one writing of Plato's on the soul.

x.x.xI THE DEAD SCHOLAR CALLIMACHUS

One told me of thy fate, Herac.l.i.tus, and wrung me to tears, and I remembered how often both of us let the sun sink as we talked; but thou, methinks, O friend from Halicarna.s.sus, art ashes long and long ago; yet thy nightingale-notes live, whereon Hades the ravisher of all things shall not lay his hand.

x.x.xII ALEXANDRIANISM CALLIMACHUS

I hate the cyclic poem, nor do I delight in a road that carries many hither and thither; I detest, too, one who ever goes girt with lovers, and I drink not from the fountain; I loathe everything popular.

x.x.xIII SPECIES AETERNITATIS PTOLEMAEUS

I know that I am mortal, and ephemeral; but when I scan the mult.i.tudinous circling spirals of the stars, no longer do I touch earth with my feet, but sit with Zeus himself, and take my fill of the ambrosial food of G.o.ds.

x.x.xIV THE PASTORAL POETS ARTEMIDORUS

The pastoral Muses, once scattered, now are all a single flock in a single fold.

x.x.xV ON A RELIEF OF EROS AND ANTEROS AUTHOR UNKNOWN

Nemesis fas.h.i.+oned a winged Love contrary to winged Love, warding off bow with bow, that he may be done by as he did; and, bold and fearless before, he sheds tears, having tasted of the bitter arrows, and spits thrice into his low-girt bosom. Ah, most wonderful! one will burn with fire: Love has set Love aflame.

x.x.xVI ON A LOVE BREAKING THE THUNDERBOLT AUTHOR UNKNOWN

Lo, how winged Love breaks the winged thunderbolt, showing that he is a fire more potent than fire.

x.x.xVII ON A LOVE PLOUGHING MOSCHUS

Laying down his torch and bow, soft Love took the rod of an ox-driver, and wore a wallet over his shoulder; and coupling patient-necked bulls under his yoke, sowed the wheat-bearing furrow of Demeter; and spoke, looking up, to Zeus himself, "Fill thou the corn-lands, lest I put thee, bull of Europa, under my plough."

x.x.xVIII ON A PAN PIPING ARABIUS

One might surely have clearly heard Pan piping, so did the sculptor mingle breath with the form; but in despair at the sight of flying, unstaying Echo, he renounced the pipe's unavailing sound.

x.x.xIX ON A STATUE OF THE ARMED VENUS AUTHOR UNKNOWN

Pallas said, seeing Cytherea armed, "O Cyprian, wilt thou that we go so to judgment?" and she, laughing softly, "why should I lift a s.h.i.+eld in contest? if I conquer when naked, how will it be when I take arms?"

XL ON THE CNIDIAN VENUS OF PRAXITELES AUTHOR UNKNOWN

The Cyprian said when she saw the Cyprian of Cnidus, "Alas where did Praxiteles see me naked?"

XLI ON A SLEEPING ARIADNE AUTHOR UNKNOWN

Strangers, touch not the marble Ariadne, lest she even start up on the quest of Theseus.

XLII ON A NIOBE BY PRAXITELES AUTHOR UNKNOWN

From life the G.o.ds made me a stone; and from stone again Praxiteles wrought me into life.

XLIII ON A PICTURE OF A FAUN AGATHIAS

Untouched, O young Satyr, does thy reed utter a sound, or why leaning sideways dost thou put thine ear to the pipe? He laughs and is silent; yet haply had he spoken a word, but was held in forgetfulness by delight? for the wax did not hinder, but of his own will he welcomed silence, with his whole mind turned intent on the pipe.

XLIV ON THE HEIFER OF MYRON AUTHOR UNKNOWN

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