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THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
THE 
 
 POETS OF GREECE 
 
 EDWIN ARNOLD. M.A.. 
 
 0/ University College, Oxford, and formerly Principal of tke Poona College, Bombay ; 
 
 AUTHOR OF "GRISELDA AND OTHER POEMSj" "THE BOOK OF GOOD COUNSELS," 
 
 "dALHOUSIE's administration OF BRITISH INDIA," "THE 
 
 EUTERPE OF HERODOTUS," ETC. ETC. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 CASSELL, FETTER, AND GALPIN; 
 
 AND 596, Broadway, New York. 
 
 1869. 
 
Ms- 
 
 <L.\ 
 
 A,\17foy„ 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 CASSELL, FETTER, AND GALPIN, BELLE SAUVAGE WORKS, 
 
 LUDGATE HILL, E.C, 
 
laeUi'catitiiK 
 
 TO MY WIFE, 
 
 FANNIE M. A. ARNOLD, 
 
 [ INSCRIBE ALL THAT IS WORTHY IN THESE PAGES 
 
 TO BE HONOURED WITH HER NAME. 
 
 Flowers from Greek gardens, Fanhie ! — oM turned new, 
 
 Doric, iEolic, Attic, planted here ; 
 You made the happy sunshine, where they grew — 
 
 Such as the growth is, have the blossoms. Dear ! 
 
INDEX OF POETS. 
 
 Homer ... 
 Hesiod ... 
 The Homeric Hymns 
 
 THE CYCLIC POETS. 
 
 Stasinus ... 
 
 Arctinus 
 
 Agias 
 
 EUGAMON... 
 
 Chersias... 
 Arias 
 
 Solon 
 Phocylides 
 
 Hipponax 
 Ananias ... 
 
 THE LYRICAL POETS, 
 
 kalian. 
 Terpander 
 
 I 
 
 5S 
 69 
 
 /J 
 
 74 
 74 
 74 
 75 
 
 75 
 
 THE ELEGIAC POETS. 
 
 Callinus... ... ... ... ... ... ... y^ 
 
 TyrT^US... ... ... ... ... ... ... yn 
 
 Archilochus ... ... ... ... ... ... gj 
 
 Simonides of Amorgos ... ... ... ... ... 86 
 
 Mimnermus ... ... ... ... ... ... 8c( 
 
 •■ 91 
 
 93 
 
 Theognis ... ... ... ... ... ... 94 
 
 97 
 
 97 
 
INDEX OF POETS. 
 
 Alc^us ... 
 
 Sappho ... 
 Ionian. 
 
 Anacreon 
 
 .SiMONiDEs or Ceos 
 
 Bacchylides 
 
 Mesomedes 
 
 The Skolia 
 
 Callistratus 
 
 Hybrias ... 
 
 Erinna ... 
 
 Arion 
 Dorian. 
 
 Alcman ... 
 
 Stesichorus 
 
 Ibycus 
 
 Lasus 
 
 CORINNA ... 
 
 Telesilla 
 Pindar ... 
 
 THE LATER ORPHIC POE'J'S. 
 Cercops ... 
 Onomacritus 
 Xenophakes 
 Parmenides 
 Empedocles 
 
 OTHER POETS OF AND AFTER THE AGE OF PERICLES. 
 Panyasis... 
 Antimachus 
 Critias ... 
 Choerilus of Samos 
 Chcerilus of Iasus 
 Cleanthes 
 
INDEX OF POETS. 
 
 IX 
 
 THE ALEXANDRIANS. 
 
 LycOPHRON 
 
 Callimachus 
 Apollonius 
 
 PAGE 
 
 167 
 
 168 
 168 
 
 THE SICILIANS. 
 
 
 Theocritus 
 
 171 
 
 BlON 
 
 ... 190 
 
 MOSCHUS ... 
 
 • 197 
 
 POETS OF THE DECLINE. 
 
 Babrius ... 
 
 ... 200 
 
 Rhianus ... 
 
 ... 201 
 
 Aratus ... 
 
 ... 202 
 
 NiCANDER 
 
 203 
 
 LUCIAN ... 
 
 ... 204 
 
 Heliodorus 
 
 ... 204 
 
 Oppian ... 
 
 ... 204 
 
 MUS/EUS ... 
 
 ... 205 
 
 Proclus ... 
 
 214 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Invited by the eminent Firm which has published this 
 volume to write " The Poets of Greece " for them, 
 I might well have declined the task, both because of its 
 magnitude and my unceasing literary duties. But the 
 temptation of being thus gently obliged to wander once 
 more in the myrtle- gardens of Greek Song was too 
 strong to resist ; and if my toil has been great, so has 
 been my pleasure. 
 
 In the times which are coming the classical languages 
 will be less studied, probably, than they have been. 
 Modern life tends more and more towards practical or 
 scientific education; and although nothing can ever de- 
 pose Hellas from her throne of grace and power among 
 nations of the past, there is fear that the "glory which 
 was Greece " will have less and less influence upon 
 young minds. Mr. Froude, Mr. Lowe, and many high 
 authorities do not greatly deplore this change ; yet that 
 which the epic and lyric art of the Greeks gave to the 
 student will never be given so perfectly by any other 
 
Xii PREFACE. 
 
 language; and if Plato were not still the greatest of 
 philosophers, and Herodotus the best of antiquaries, the 
 human intellect would nevertheless have to go back to 
 Hellenic times for the most exquisite achievements in 
 poetry as in sculpture and architecture. 
 
 These pages have been accordingly composed with 
 the double hope of reminding the scholar of the variety 
 and beauty of Greek verse, and of introducing these at 
 the same time to the ordinary reader. A comparison 
 of the poets cited with the complete list appended of 
 Greek poetical authors, will at once show that no attempt 
 has been made to go through that very long catalogue. 
 The dramatic poets have been, moreover, omitted, for 
 the reason that no proper justice could be done to their 
 commanding merits in the space allotted ; while they 
 stand naturally apart from the epical, lyrical, didactic, 
 and pastoral writers. I have attempted no more, in 
 truth, than to pass down the ages of Hellenic song, 
 mentioning with homage the names of the " chief musi- 
 cians," and citing from their music enough to give a 
 just idea of its character; while many of the minor 
 minstrels are also noted, and some that were almost 
 forgotten, even by students, are restored to their poetic 
 rights. By quoting the Greek text of each passage, I 
 have hoped to make the book a " florilegium " even for 
 
PKEFACE. Xni 
 
 the learned — meantime, an English version under each 
 citation renders it one from which the general reader 
 may derive a fair view of the genius of Hellenic poesy. 
 Wherever these translations are . borrowed the author's 
 name is given ; where no name is annexed they are 
 my own versions— and indeed the plan of the book has 
 led me out of the pathway of most writers ; by a road 
 of considerable length and labour, although one made 
 pleasant and rich by many rare and almost unknown 
 flowers. 
 
 Aiming chiefly to facilitate a wider knowledge of 
 Greek poetry, I have not gone very much into points 
 of erudition ; nor troubled my readers with " readings," 
 " schools," and " eras.'' One would not thank the cicerone 
 who lectured on the date and history of each painter in 
 a gallery, instead of pointing out briefly the loveliest 
 and most worthy pictures. Large, therefore, as the 
 labour of this volume has been, it makes but slight 
 pretensions. It merely seeks to popularise, if possible, 
 the wealth of the scholar — to democratise classical learn- 
 ing a little ; and if critics shall say, "He hath been at 
 a great feast of languages and stolen the scraps," that is 
 almost precisely what I wished to do on behalf of those 
 for whom I have always written and thought most. 
 
 It remains to acknowledge my large obligations to 
 
XIV PREFACE. 
 
 the " Histoire de la Litterature Grecque" by Professor 
 Alexis Pierron, of the Lycee Louis-le-Grand ; one of 
 those excellent and laborious aids to French education 
 produced under the direction of M. Duruy. And craving 
 pardon from the august company of scholars for the 
 defects inseparable from the conditions of my task, I 
 return, not without a sigh, from verse to prose — from 
 Helicon to Fleet Street. 
 
 EDWIN ARNOLD. 
 
THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 HOMER. 
 
 From the unparalleled inspiration which poured forth the 
 " Iliad " and " Odyssey," down to Quintus of Smyrna — 
 who very feebly tried to continue in Byzantine verse the 
 " Song of Troy " — there are some fifteen hundred years. 
 During this long life of Greece, her language was, well- 
 nigh continuously, the language of the Muses ; whether 
 they spoke through the fresh morning airs of the Homeric 
 hexameters, or the noon-tide iambics of Sophocles, or the 
 soft afternoon pastorals of Bion and Theocritus, or the 
 twilight murmurs of the hymns of Proclus. And into the 
 beginning of this prolonged and beautiful day of Grecian 
 Poetic Art the great light of Homer comes up as the sun 
 comes. Rounded, finished, brilliant like the orb at its 
 rising, Greek poetry seems born full-grown along with the 
 first and greatest of the Grecian poets. Other literatures 
 have faint day-breakings, rude ballad-beginnings, timid 
 preludes upon the national lyre. Other nations practise 
 with prose and break by-and-by into song. Greece was 
 born musical, sweet in voice and quick in fancy ; and she 
 had her accomplished and perfect poets before any historian 
 
THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 or philosopher appeared. From Homer to Tryphiodorus 
 and Quintus the line of them, great and little, stretches 
 down her history ; but the first is greatest of all, and would 
 be equally greatest had he written last. The verse of 
 Homer is sufficient as the voices of nature are. It cannot 
 be imagined as being better or completer, any more than 
 the noise of the waving of the woods at dawn, or the rhyth- 
 mical beating of the sea waves upon the shore. It appears 
 as though his Achaean faith were true — as if the Goddess 
 of Poesy, ^vhom he invoked in his opening line, had indeed 
 bowed her brows to him in visible favour ; and given her 
 own heaven-strung cithara into his hands, ready set and 
 tuned. 
 
 Yet there were kings before Agamemnon, and there 
 were poets before Homer. Perhaps there were singers 
 of some kind or other upon this melodious soil of Hellas 
 in the ages even of the Pelasgians, Dryopes, Abantes, and 
 Leleges, when the language of Homer was still unformed. 
 There must have been a time, probably a very long time, 
 during which the migration which brought to Europe the 
 colonising tribes from Asia was settling down, and pre- 
 paring to make Greece famous. The speech of Homer 
 and Thucydides, contrasted with the ancient inscriptions 
 of Anadol, with the Zend scriptures, and with Sanskrit, 
 is seen to be unmistakably Oriental along its course, and 
 up to its source. The legend that Cadmus gave alpha- 
 betical letters to Hellas, only means that they came from 
 " Kadm" i.e., the East. By-and-by the pride of Greece 
 made her people boast that they were Autochthones — 
 " earth-born," " indigenous to the soil." The Athenian 
 
HOMER. 3 
 
 women wore grasshoppers of gold in their hair in sign of 
 this pretension, because grasshoppers were thought to 
 spring ready hatched and chirping out of the earth. They 
 called every other people " barbarians ; " but there could 
 not have been much distinction, for all that, at first between 
 the early Hellenes and the races of Anatolia and the 
 Levantine coasts. Homer makes his Greeks talk very 
 readily and glibly to the Trojans and all their allies from 
 various parts of Asia — Lycians, Dardanians, with the rest. 
 And if this be merely the licence of the bard — as Shake- 
 speare shows us the Prince of Morocco conversing in English 
 with the Venetian Portia, amid similar poetic liberties- — 
 yet there is a passage in ./Eschylus which proves that the 
 early close relationship of Greece with Asia was deeply 
 felt and known. The queen, Atossa, in the " Persae," 
 dreams a dream, and says — 
 
 eBo^aTrjv /tot Bvo yvvaiK eveijiove, 
 Tj fiev ireifKouTi, UeptriKOK '^cricr)fiem), 
 ■fj S" avre AmpiKolaiv, el<; oyfnv fioXeiv, 
 fieyedei re t&v vvv eiarpejreaTaTa •jtoKv, 
 KoKKei T a/jLmfMO, Kal Kaair/v^ra yevov; 
 TOUTOV' irdrpav B' evaiov rj fiev 'EXKuBa 
 KKripm ~Ka/)(ovaa yalav, rj Be ^dp^apov. 
 
 yEsch. Pers. i8l. 
 
 It seemed two women of a stately mien — 
 One in the garments of the Persians clad, 
 One in the Dorian dress — came to my sight ; 
 Of stature greater than the women now ; 
 In beauty faultless ; sisters of one house : 
 And one had Hellas for her dwelling-place, 
 And one the foreign lands. 
 
 B 2 
 
4 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 There is no clear record of the gradual parting of these 
 majestic sisters, nor any way of knowing how the seed of 
 civilisation grew so quickly and richly on the west shores 
 of the ^gean, while it produced comparatively little to 
 the eastward. Homer speaks of the ages before the siege 
 of Troy as if great cities and the ordered arts of govern- 
 ment and society already existed then in Hellas. Yet the 
 voyages of Jason must be half-mythical annals of early 
 marauding and commercial ventures in the Greek seas. 
 The tale of Helen's flight with Paris, and the consequent 
 war of the Greek chiefs and people against the Trojans, is 
 probably but the poetic recital of an especially eventful 
 specimen of this piracy. What sort of age it was is shown 
 by the words ^epraTo? and a/atcrro?, which prove that he alone 
 was considered " excellent " and " best " who was the most 
 daring robber and desperate fighter. The very earliest frag- 
 ments of Greek poesy are, indeed, all about battles, and the 
 " Iliad " duly keeps up the martial preferences of these 
 primitive singers by its style and subject. Still the Trojan 
 expedition must have been, after all, a great and serious 
 event to its period, for half the Hellenic states seem to 
 have been revolutionised either while the kings were fight- 
 ing, or else during their long vbaroi — i.e., the homeward 
 voyages. Other absentees besides the sailors of Ulysses 
 had reason to say, as our Laureate has made those say — 
 
 "Is there confusion in the little isle ? 
 The gods are hard to reconcile ; 
 'Tis hard to settle order once again." 
 
 And all can judge how the double story of the war 
 and of these long homeward cruises must have filled the 
 
HOMER. 5 
 
 imagination of Greece, by the fact that Homer chose them 
 before any others for the subjects of his two great poems. 
 There were many mythical or legendary topics and estab- 
 lished poetic models to attractshim ; for long before there 
 must have been poet-priests to invent and consolidate the 
 mythology of the Greek Pantheon, perhaps to translate 
 Aryan and Egyptian theologies into Hellenic creeds. 
 Whether Zeus and Poseidon, Hephaestus and Artemis, 
 came or did not come from Brahmanic or Thebaid tem- 
 ples — whether Narayan and Nereus, Osiris and Apollo, be 
 identical or no, certainly many a genuine, albeit priestly, 
 genius taught the early worship of her multiform and 
 beautiful divinities to ancient Hellas. He was a sacerdotal 
 poet who filled the green glens of Thessaly and the thickets 
 of Arcadia with dryads and hamadryads, and made the still 
 woods of Cyllene solemn with the unseen presence of Pan. 
 He or they had surely the Muses for companions who 
 first suited to every incident of the year its graceful re- 
 ligious fable — made out of the disappearance of the flowers, 
 Proserpine's descent into Hades; from the rustling of 
 the reeds, Syrinx's tale of peril and escape; from the 
 waving laurels. Daphne's danger and safety ; and out of 
 the coincidence of two streams of the same name in different 
 countries, a love-legend like that of Alpheus and Arethusa. 
 The daily life and common country scenes of Greece were 
 turned at once into poetry and religion by this exquisite 
 polytheism, which Homer found ready to his hand. 
 Besides all this, he certainly had teachers in the art, for 
 the hexameter and trimeter were invented. The strings 
 of the poetic shell must have been long stretched and 
 
THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 practised upon, although we know so little about it. 
 The air]hr)<i, or religious poet — resembling the Brahman 
 priest who to-day in every Indian village chants the 
 Ramayana and Mahabharata — had been for centuries 
 a great personage with Homer's countrymen. In the 
 " Odyssey " Homer makes Ulysses spare such an one 
 named Phemius, while he kills all the suitors in his hall. 
 We read, too, of the Linus, an ancient chant of an elegiac 
 kind, probably half erotic, half religious, like the song of 
 the Syrian girls for Adonis ; and in the same way, perhaps, 
 figuring by a lament the departure of the bright half of 
 the year. The Paan was a song of war of still more 
 antique origin, for hard knocks are older than sentiment 
 or the sense of beauty and pathos in nature. There 
 seem to have existed a Hymenmum also, or marriage song, 
 and a Threnos, or funeral dirge ; and Thrace especially 
 appears to have been the land of these primaeval essays. 
 To Thrace belonged Orpheus, the first name upon the 
 poetic roll not utterly mythical, although whether Orpheus 
 ever lived is very doubtful. At least this name gave itself 
 twice to a school of singers and of songs called " Orphic." 
 Musaeus is mentioned as the disciple of Orpheus, but this 
 is possibly a generic title. Then there were, it is known, 
 the Eumolpides, or " Sweet Singers " of Eleusis, priests of 
 Demeter, while the oracle at Delphi had its choir and 
 composers. Agamemnon, in leaving for Troy, confides 
 Clytemnestra, his queen, to a poet-laureate of the palace. 
 Achilles is found playing the lute in his tent when the 
 Greek lords come to ask his aid in battle; Phemius and 
 Demodocus sing in the "Odyssey," while weary captains 
 
HOMER. 
 
 and lovely princesses listen delighted and respectful. All 
 this shows that poetry of some sort was established very 
 early, and, indeed, these bards were the only historians as 
 well as musicians of their times. Thus, Helen, not without 
 justice, is made to say in the " Iliad" of herself and Paris — 
 
 olauv etrl Zev; drJKe kukov fwpov, oo? icaX OTriaao) 
 
 avOpcoirocai TreXcofieda aolBifiot iaaofiivoiai. 
 
 II. vi. 357. 
 
 All for my guilt and his deed, Zeus gives us a doom that is dreadful, 
 Ever to live in the songs, and to be a theme for the minstrels. 
 
 These same minstrels appear to have gone about as did 
 the Jongleurs and Troubadours of Languedoc. They could 
 have had no books or scrolls; the transmission of verse, 
 however long or elaborate, was oral ; and none will be 
 wonder-struck at it who has heard a Hindoo repeat 
 thousands of " shlokes " from the Sanskrit, not one of which 
 he ever read in the original Devanagari character. The 
 Rhapsodist, as this peripatetic singer was called by his con- 
 temporaries, came to be an improvisatore and rhymer on 
 his own account, as maybe seen by a passage in the "Ion" 
 of Plato (ch. 5). Rhapsodist means "one who stitches 
 together," and the word describes the way in which old 
 poems were doubtless patched, pieced-up, and kept alive in 
 the time of Homer — nay, indeed, thus Homer's own glorious 
 chants were preserved, till the time when Peisistratus and 
 Hipparchus, aided by Onomacritus the Athenian, " edited " 
 all the floating passages; after which papyrus handed them 
 to parchment, parchment to paper, and so down to print, a 
 
8 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 " KTrjiM e? ae\ " ] now a possession which the world will 
 never " let die." 
 
 So, enough is said to show that Homer did not invent 
 poesy for Greece. But was there ever any Homer at all .■• 
 Is he a mere name, like Orpheus and Musaeus, and are the 
 "Iliad" and the "Odyssey "only compilations of ancient frag- 
 mentary song, stitched or strung together by Rhapsodists 
 with such skill that the seams are not apparent ? That 
 audacious question has not only been put, but stoutly 
 maintained. Fenelon chose this very duology, the " Iliad " 
 and "Odyssey," as something human which helped, by 
 analogy, to prove the existence of God from its indubitable 
 internal signs of unity and individual design. Wolf, how- 
 ever, "denied the divinity" of Homer, and his pupjl 
 Lachmann declared there were in the twenty-four books 
 but sixteen original passages of the primal poet, whoever 
 this might have been. Nay ! pushing this perturbing 
 theory farther, the Wolfians refuse to believe that the 
 " Ihad " and the " Odyssey " are by the same hand or 
 hands. Their arguments are not very cogent : for ex- 
 ample, the " separators " say that in the " Iliad " Cassandra 
 is declared to be the fairest daughter of Priam, but 
 Laodice in the " Odyssey." Crete has one hundred cities 
 in the "Iliad," and only ninety in the "Odyssey." If 
 upon such nibbling evidence the gentle reader will not 
 abandon either poem as Homeric, he need not surrender 
 the certainly reasonable belief that there was this great 
 poet, and that he made both these noble things. It may 
 very well be that the fine taste of the Greek Rhapsodists 
 and Attic editors patched the royal purple here and 
 
there of Homer's mantle — filled up the broken mosaics of 
 his pictures with new stones delicately and critically laid 
 in. But unity is stamped upon the general conception of 
 these poems. The style is singularly even and equal : take 
 out a hundred lines of either work, from any book, and it 
 is, unmistakably, wine of one vintage — gold of one assay. 
 As a matter of probability it is harder to conceive many 
 different lips singing in such harmony, than to accept the 
 universal tradition that one pair poured forth this ancient 
 music. . As a matter of sentiment, it would be grievous to 
 rob humanity of the sublime figure which it has ever set at 
 the head of classical poets, the " Morning Star of Song," the 
 " Chief Musician " of men. No ! the world will believe in 
 Homer — and it may ! for albeit Niebuhr speaks of Plato's 
 knowledge of Greek history with calm, contemptuous 
 patronage, yet Plato, and Herodotus too, within four or five 
 centuries of the poet's date, took him steadily for granted ; 
 Alexander carried about a copy of him wherever he 
 marched, and would have impaled Frederick Augustus 
 Wolf and his disciples for their uncomfortable suspicions. 
 The two majestic productions came surely from one and the 
 same rich source : the manners and dialect are the same ; 
 the morality, the sentiments, the touch, the cachet are 
 identical. One presents the fighting times, the other the 
 sea-journeyings of the pre-historic Greek age, and both are 
 assuredly his for the honour of whose birth seven Hellenic 
 cities contended. Did they contend about a myth ">. Do 
 not credit it, good reader ! This is one voice throughout 
 which resounds in these magnificent chants — one hand 
 which touches the many-stringed lyre into pathos or psean 
 
lO THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 — one divinely-gifted heart which, in the dim first days, 
 poured forth the diapason of this masculine Greek music. 
 
 What manner of man the great Ionian was cannot be 
 certainly known. Of all the seven rival cities which dis- 
 puted his birth, Smyrna and Chios showed the best claims. 
 He belonged past doubt to that Asiatic Greece which lay 
 along the east coast of the .^gean : he was an Ionic Greek. 
 The well-known ancient bust represents him to us as a 
 blind, venerable man, the forehead radiant with high 
 thoughts, the face worn away with the fervour of their long 
 strain and stress. Such might well have been the aspect of 
 the author of the " Odyssey," the calmer and more peaceful 
 of his two poems; but the "Iliad," with its martial fanfare of 
 verse, and spirit that "saith ha! ha! amid the trumpets," 
 flashing the fire of war like the helmet of Hector ; that 
 must have been struck at red-heat from the soul of Homer 
 when he was more like the warrior-poet stamped on the 
 Smyrniote coins, and painted on the bas-reliefs of Millin. 
 The freshness, vigour, and variety, the melody and majesty, 
 the lively narrative, and the tenderness alternated with 
 manliness, of the " Iliad," have been noted very often, but 
 sufficient attention has scarcely been given to the practical 
 soldiership of the bard. His descriptions of engagements 
 are not mere poetic pieces — except, perhaps, in the numerous 
 single combats — and then even Homer writes like one who 
 knew the " music of spears." But he tells of the move- 
 ments and array of battle with a minuteness which is never 
 wearisome ; and at the same time with the air of one who 
 knows the ground and the science of war. A recent writer, 
 M. Nicolaides, native of Crete, has published an ingenious 
 
HOMER. I I 
 
 comment upon the strategics and military details of the 
 " Iliad," which is almost the first critical recognition of a 
 quality running distinctly throughout the twenty -four 
 books. And it may be remarked as an additional reason 
 to believe in the poet, as well as to study his work, that the 
 cutting up of the " Iliad " into these twenty-four books is 
 what has chiefly made it seem episodical and disconnected. 
 This was done to suit the convenience of the Rhapsodists. 
 Homer most probably divided his poem into the Epilogue, 
 the Action, and the Prologue. The Prologue ends at the 
 forty-sixth line of the second book ; the Action of the poem 
 continues to the death of Hector, after which what follows 
 is but an Epilogue or tail-piece. Viewed thus, the work is a 
 well-proportioned temple of art, with porch and peristyle 
 complete ; or, if there be stones inserted by other hands in 
 after times, they do not affect the noble outlines of the 
 edifice, nor lessen the eternal fame of the architect. 
 
 The story of the "Iliad" is briefly this. It commences at 
 the moment when, the Greeks being encamped before Troy, 
 Agamemnon, their leader, and Achilles, the chief of their 
 warriors, have quarrelled about Briseis, a beautiful captive. 
 Achilles retires to his tent in wrath, and the Greeks are 
 worsted in battle by the Trojans while he is absent. A 
 truce is made to bury the dead ; but when the fighting 
 begins again, the Trojans, under Hector, the son of King 
 Priam, still obtain the general advantage, pushing the Greeks 
 to their entrenchments with great slaughter. Discouraged 
 and in peril, they send to ask Achilles to come forth, which 
 he refuses. The combat recommences, and Patroclus, the 
 friend of Achilles, reports to him that the very ships of the 
 
12 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 besiegers are endangered. At this moment the glare of 
 the burning vessel of Protesilaus shines into the tent of the 
 great chieftain, and Achilles permits Patroclus, his bosom 
 companion, to go forth to their succour, wearing his own 
 armour. The god Apollo strips Patroclus of these borrowed 
 defences, Euphorbus wounds, and Hector kills him. The 
 rage of Achilles at this news knows no bounds. He would 
 rush into the battle unarmed, but Pallas, from heaven, arrests 
 him, and the fight is suspended for the night. He now 
 determines to take part in the endangered war, and Thetis, 
 his mother, the ocean goddess, brings him divine armour 
 forged by the god Vulcan. He dons it, and sweeps the 
 Trojans from the field, dealing destruction on all sides. 
 Only Hector dares to abide him in fight under the walls of 
 Troy, whereupon Achilles slays him with the help of his 
 tutelary deity, who deceives the gallant Trojan. Achilles 
 drags the dead body of his victim at his chariot-tail thrice 
 round the walls of Troy, and performs splendid but cruel 
 death rites to Patroclus. Then, winding up the poem with 
 a strain of solemn pathos, Priam comes to Achilles to beg 
 the dead body of his heroic son. Achilles is finally per- 
 suaded to restore it, and it is carried back to the city, where 
 the inhabitants celebrate the obsequies of their hero and 
 protector with reverence and despair. Such is an epitome 
 of the plot — simple and straightforward enough ; — but the 
 fighting books are diversified with all kinds of episodes and 
 incidents, strung upon the thread of the main purpose. 
 
 And now, how shall the fine savour of this old wine of 
 poetry be conveyed to those unlucky enough not to read 
 Homer in his own tongue .? He cannot be found, alas ! in 
 
HOMER. 
 
 13 
 
 any translation. Pope's wonderful production is very pro- 
 perly called "Pope's Homer," for it is by no means 
 Achilles' Homer, Helen's Homer, or Hector's Homer. 
 It is a marvellous piece of work, and full of beauties of 
 its own ; but as unlike the sonorous, free, and massive 
 Greek as Sarpedon in a full-bottomed wig would be unlike 
 Sarpedon in his emblazoned armour. The marshalled 
 lines of Homer cannot be broken up into such clinquant 
 couplets without loss. The long hexameter is necessary 
 for the expression, and, as it were, makes a natural music 
 to much in the sense. Take any passage for example — 
 take the oft-quoted prayer of Ajax for light : — 
 
 irotijaov S' atOprfv, So? S ocpffaXfiduriv iSecrOai 
 iv Be ^dei km oKeaaov eTrii vv toi evaSev outq)?. 
 
 /I. xvii. 647. 
 
 Pope makes of this — very elegantly and neatly, no doubt — 
 
 " If Greece must perish, we thy will obey ; 
 But let us perish in the face of day." 
 
 Yet, beside the lost glory of the music here, which cannot 
 be wholly transferred, something of the bold and ardent 
 supplication also evaporates. Not rivalling Pope, but 
 vindicating Homer, let us try if a translation can preserve 
 the gradual passion of the prayer. It should be seen how 
 the fierce heart of Ajax climbs, as it were, to the foot-stool 
 of Zeus, demanding a soldier's right with angry iteration : — 
 
 " Bring us the daylight back, and give our eyes sunshine to see by ; 
 Then faqe to face make us die, sith it seems that thy will is to slay us !" 
 
 Pope's facility and terseness are admirable, and what the 
 
14 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 rhymed couplet could do he has done — but Homer cannot 
 thus be Englished. The manner of the " Iliad " is even 
 more than its matter, and it has been well written that the 
 result of such an attempt upon the oceanic greatness of the 
 Greek is like a cross sea breaking up and confusing the 
 majestic sweep of long rolling billows. Chapman's version 
 is rugged, but powerful and rich, and, on the whole, the 
 very best of the old essays at the vast task. In blank 
 verse, which, next to the original metre, might most fairly 
 represent the Greek, Cowper stands first; Lord Derby's 
 over-praised edition wants everything which a translation 
 should have, except good intentions. Homer — Mr. 
 Conington's fine work and scholarship notwithstanding — 
 should be done into the hexametric metre, which is his 
 own, and which goes perfectly well with the genius of our 
 language, as Longfellow has proved. The American poet, 
 in truth, ought to have spent his latest labour of translation 
 on the " Iliad," or, still better, on the "Odyssey," rather than 
 upon that most difficult terza rima of Dante. " Evangeline's " 
 skilful and eloquent singer lacks nothing but the antique 
 strength which might partly arise from the task itself, to 
 have given us a right noble version. An Oxford scholar 
 and laureate, Mr. Dart, has recently published the " Iliad " 
 in this metre. His book is a worthy attempt, although not 
 so high in achievement as to be a "success." Yet, perhaps, 
 the measure and style of the old singer will be sooner 
 grasped by an extract from this translation than from any 
 other. Below is given Mr. Dart's rendering of the deaths 
 of Cebriones and Patroclus, which in the original are told 
 in these stirring dactyls : — 
 
HOMER. 
 
 IS 
 
 /SaXe S "EicTopo^ ■^vioyrja 
 Ke^ptovrjv, voOov viov ar/aKKfjo^ Ilptafwio, 
 Ittttcov 'qvC expvra, /jLerayTriov o^eC Xdi' 
 afjufjorepw; 8 ocjipyf cruveKe \l9o<;, ovSi oi e<T')(ev 
 oareov o<f>9aXfiol Se '^cifial ireaov iv Kovvqatv 
 avrov irpocrde iroBaiv' 6 S' dp', dpvevTrjpt eot^o)?, 
 KaTTTrea air eue/3760? Si^pov \hre S' ocrrea 6v/j,6<;. 
 Tov S' iiriKepTO/iecov Trpoa-e(jxrj<;, UarpoKXefi iTnrev' 
 
 12 iroiroi,, rj f/,aX iKa(f)po'i avijp' to? peta Kv^toTa. 
 ei Sj; irov Kal ttoz/to) iv I'xdvoevrt yevoi/ro, 
 TToWow av Kopeaeiev dvrjp oSe, Trjdea Stcbav, 
 vTjo^ diro6pd)CTK(ov, el Kal Svcnre/Mf)eXo<; eirj' 
 ft)? vvv ev irehup e'f 'iinraiv peia Kv^tcrTa' 
 ^ pa Kal iv Tpmeaai Kv^t(7Tr]Tfjp€<; eaatv. 
 
 '^/2? ecTTOiv, iirl Ke^piovj) ■tjpai ^e^rjKet, 
 oifui XeovTO<; e)(a)v, oare, crraOfioix; Kepai^cov, 
 e^riTO irpo<; crrij^o?, erj t6 fiiv wKeaev okKri' 
 
 The sharp stone struck on the temples 
 Hector's charioteer : he was bastard offspring of Priam, 
 Son of the famous king. For, while he was holding the bright reins, 
 Full on the top of his face came the huge stone, smashing the eyebrows. 
 Crushing the solid skuU ; and the eyeballs, forced from the sockets. 
 Fell in the dust at his feet ; while himself, as plunges a diver, 
 Plunged to the earth from the car, and the fierce soul fled from the carcass. 
 Loud, as he mark'd the act, thus scoffingly shouted Patroclus : — 
 
 " Gods ! what a nimble man ! How easy that shoot from the chariot ! 
 Did he but happen to live by the ocean, where fish are abounding, 
 Many a mouth, through him, might be satisfied, diving for oysters ; 
 Even in times of storm, from his boat-side taking his headers : 
 Easy enough for one who on land dives thus firom his war-steeds. 
 Who would have thought such tumblers had ever been found 'mid the 
 Trojans?" 
 
 Thus did Patroclus speak — then rush'd on the corpse to despoil it. 
 Like the tremendous rush of a lion first clearing the fold-yards ; 
 
1 6 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 ft)? eirX Ke^pwvtj, UarpoKXei^, aXa-o fiefiam^. 
 "EKTcap S' avff' erepioOev a^ iinrav SXto '^a/Ma^e. 
 TO) Trepl Ke^pwvao, Xeovd' ax;, h7)piv8rjTr)v, 
 S) T opeo<s Kopv^fjci vepl KTa/j,ev'rj<; i\d<poi,o, 
 afi^a ireivdovre, p-iya (ppoveovre pM')(eadov 
 ft)? irepl Ke^piovao Bvco lirjcnaipe^ diir^?, 
 ndrpoKkoi; re M6voi,Ti,dB't]<s ical (paiStp.o'i "E/CTcop, 
 levT aXX'ip^joiv ra/iieiv %/3oa vrfXei 'XoKkS. 
 "Ektwp (lev Ke^aX§(j)tv iirel Xd^ev, ov')(i fJuedUi,' 
 ndrpoKXo'i 8' eTepmOev e%6 ttoSo?' ol Be Srj aXXoi 
 Tpwe? Kal AavaoX crvvar/ov Kparepfjv va-filvrjv. 
 
 'I2<; S' E?ip6t; re Notck t ipiBaiverov aXXrjXoiiv 
 ovpeo^ iv ^rjcrcTTi'; ^aOerjv veXep,it,ep,ev vXtjv, 
 ^yrf/6v re, psXvTjv re, ravix^Xoiov re xpdveiav, 
 at re Trpo? dXX'>]Xa<; e^aXov TavvrjKea<: o^ov^ 
 VXV GecTTreo'iri, TrdTcuyo'i Se re d/ywp,evatov' 
 fti? Tpcae<; Kal 'A'xaiol eV dXXijXoiai 6op6vTe<; 
 
 Then, with a wound on his breast, by his courage brought to destruction : 
 
 Thus on Cebriones dead did Patroclus rush to despoil him. 
 
 While on the opposite side leapt Hector to earth from his war-steeds. 
 
 As on a mountain peak two lions, roaring defiance 
 
 Over a slaughter'd stag, all raving and savage with hunger, 
 
 Wage unrelenting war for the coveted prize of the carcass. 
 
 So for Cebriones slain did these two lords of the battle. 
 
 Hector, mighty in war, and Patroclus, son of Menoetius, 
 
 Aim at each other's breasts with the points of tlieir murderous weapons. 
 
 Hector held by the head to his brother's corpse, and retain'd it ; 
 
 While on the dead man's foot did Patroclus seize ; and around them 
 
 Deepen'd the roar of fight of the Trojan troops and the Argives. 
 
 As with opposing blasts, when the fury of Eurus and Notus 
 
 Falls upon some dense wood, in a glen deep down on a hill-side. 
 
 Beech or tough-grain'd ash, or the long-leaved boughs of the cornel, 
 
 And, as the blast drives over, the tall trees mingle their branches. 
 
 Rasping and grating together, or breaking, perchance, with a great crash, 
 
 So, and with equal din, did the armies of Troy and Achaia 
 
HOMER. 
 
 17 
 
 hyovv, oiiK erepoi fivcoovr oTimoIo (f)6^oco. 
 TToWa Se K.e^piovqv aiJ^ o^ea Sovpa irejrijyei, 
 loL T6 TTTepoevTe? airo vevfyfjifit Oopovre'i' 
 TToXXa Se 'xepfidBia fieyaX acTTrtSa? iarv^eki^e 
 fiapvafjievav ap^ avrov' 6 S' ev arpocfxiXiryyt kovltji; 
 KeiTO p,eyai fieyaXcocrrl, XeXacrp.evoi hnrocTwoMV. 
 
 ' O^pa p,ev ^Hikio^ p,ea-ov oiipavov afKpt^ejSrJKei,, 
 T6<f)pa fJbaX' ap-cfjoripcov ^eXe rprreTO, Trlirre Se Xaor 
 ^/to? S' 'HeKio<s p^erevuraeTO ^ovKvTovBe, 
 zeal Tore Bij p vvep alaav ^A'yaiol cfteprepoi rjaav 
 eK p,ev Ke^piovrjv ^eXitov Tjpcoa epvcrcrav 
 Tpoacov e^ ivoirfji;, koX air mpMV Tevj^e eXovTO. 
 JTarpo/cXo? Se Tpcoal kuko, i^povemv ivopovcre' 
 Tpl<; p-ev eireiT hropovcre, 0o£ uTdXavTO<; ''Aprj'i, 
 <rp,€pSaXia Idy^iov' rpk S' eyvea ^wra? eve(j)vev 
 aXX ore Srj to rirapTov iirecrcrvTO, Baip^vi 1ao<;, 
 evd dpa rot, UdrpoKXe, ^dvr) ^loroio reXem-^- 
 
 Seek each other's breasts, and fear was forgotten among them. 
 Over Cebriones' corpse was the clash and the crashing of lances, 
 Whizzing of arrow-shafts, that bounded in wrath from the bow-strings, 
 Clanging of pond'rous stones, that bruised and batter'd the bucklers 
 Of those fighting around him. He, mighty, and mightily stretch'd out, 
 Heedless of reins and steeds, slept sound 'mid the storm of the battle. 
 
 All such time as the sun stands high on his path 'mid the heavens. 
 Falls on each army the storm of the darts, and slain are the people. 
 But, when the sun stands low, and releases the labouring oxen. 
 Then, despite of fate, has Achaia the best in the struggle. 
 Dragging Cebriones off from the spears, in the face of the uproar 
 Made by Troy's foil'd host, they strip from his shoulder's the armour. 
 Then on his foes once more, in his wild wrath, hurtles Patroclus : 
 Three times, dreadful as Ares, with terrible shouts, he assails them, 
 Charging them home. Three times, nine warriors perish before him ; 
 But when, great as a god, he a fourth time charges the phalanx. 
 This, of thy narrow life, is the finishing effort, Patroclus ! 
 
 C 
 
THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 r\vTeTO fydp toi ^olj3o<; ivl Kpareprj vafiivp 
 
 Sewo?. o /j,ev tov eovra Kara kKovov ovk ivcyrjcrep' 
 
 rjepi yap iroXXfj Ke/caXv/A/iew? avTe^dX/qae. 
 
 (TTTj S' oTTide, irKrj^ev re fierd^pevov, evpee t lofio) 
 
 ^etpl KorrcsmfrqvA' aTpe(j)eBiii7]6ev Be ol ocrae. 
 
 TOV S' UTTO fiev Kparb'; kvv&jv ^aXe $ot)Sos ^AiroXXtov. 
 
 ■f) 8e KvXivBofiivr) Kava'xrjv e^e irocyaiv v(p i/Kwav 
 
 av\o)Tn<; rpv^aXeta' fiidvOrjaav Be eOeipai 
 
 aifiaTi Kal Kovirjai' Trdpo'i <ye fj,ev ov 6efj^i<; Tjev, 
 
 'fTTTTOKOfwv TT^XTjKa fMciivecrOai KovirjaW 
 
 d\X' dvBpo<; Oeioio Kapiq, xapiev re /MercoTTOv 
 
 pver ^ A'y^^tXXTJo^' rore Be ZeWEicTopi BwKev 
 
 fl Kecf>aKfj (J3opeeiv. a'^eBoOev Be ol "qev okedpo^. 
 
 irav Be ol ev •^eipeaaiv dyrj BoXi'^ocTKiov 67%09, 
 
 ^pi,9v, /leya, a-Ti^apov, iceKopvdfievoV airap cm &imov 
 
 acTTTt? (Tvv TeXafiwvo '^afjuil ireae Tepfjuoecraa' 
 
 \vae Be ol dcoprjKa dva^, /Ito? Ktoy, AvoWaiv. 
 
 For, through the midst of the fray, to assail thee, Phcebus Apollo 
 
 Moves — an unequal opponent. Patroclus never discerns him. 
 
 Since in a pile of cloud is the deity veil'd and enshrouded. 
 
 Standing in rear of the chief, on his back, 'mid his shoulders, the great god 
 
 Strikes with pond'rous hand. Swim dizzy the eyes of the hero. 
 
 Flies from his temples the helm, at tlie buffet of Phcebus Apollo ; 
 
 Far, with a clash, to the earth, far away, 'mid the hoofs of the war-steeds 
 
 Rolls that crested helm ; those bright plumes waving above it 
 
 Draggle in blood and dust They have never been wont to be soil'd so. 
 
 Never before have dust and that proud helm been acquainted. 
 
 Used, as it is, to protect in the fight the high face of a hero, 
 
 Even Achilleus' self. Now Zeus upon Hector bestows it. 
 
 Gives it to him for awhile, as he stands on the brink of destruction : 
 
 All, in Patroclus' hand, does the huge spear shiver to splinters, 
 
 Stalwart, brass -headed beam as it is ; and, afar from his shoulders. 
 
 Shield of ample orb to the earth comes down, with the shield-belt ; 
 
 And from his gallant breast is the corslet loosed by Apollo. 
 
HOMER. 
 
 19 
 
 Tov 8' arr) <f>peva<i elXe, \v6ev S' viro (fiatSt/Mi yvia' 
 cTTTj Se Ta(f>a>v' oiriOev Se fierd^pevov o^ei Sovpl 
 wfimv fieaaijyv tr'xeSodev /3aXe AdpZavo<i avrjp, 
 Ilavdo&q^ Ev(j)op^o<;, 09 rfkiKvrjv eKeKaaro 
 ejx^i & , WTTTOcrwij Te, TroSeaa-i re KapTraXl/jioiaf 
 Kol yap Br) rare ^coras eeiicoai ^rjcrev a^^ 'hnvtov, 
 irpSyr e\6a)v crvv o')(ecr^i, BiBaaKO/iepo'i irdKefioio. 
 o? rot, TrpwTO? i^riKe ^ehjo<i, IIaTp6K\ei<; l-Tr-jrev, 
 oil Se Bafuura, 6 fiev aSrt? aviSpafie, filfcro S" ofiikai, 
 eK ■)(poo<; ap-Trd^a^ Bopv fietXivov' ovS" virip^ive 
 ndrpoKhjov, yv/Mvov irep iovr, ev BrjioTrjn. 
 IIdTpoK\o<; Be deov -TfXTjyrj koX Bovpl Ba/juicrdek 
 d-\lr erdprnv eh edvo<s i'^d^ero, Krip aXeeivcov. 
 "EicToap B\ 6i><i elBe TJaTpoKkrfa fiejddvfiov 
 ai^r dvaxoXPIJ^vov, ^e^n^pAvov o^ei -xoKKm, 
 dr/vlp.oKjov pd ol rfKde Kara crri'xa^, ovra Be Bovpl 
 veiarov e? Kevwva' Bia irpo Be ')(aXKOv eKatrcre. 
 
 Mind and senses bewilder'd, his limbs unnerved by the buffet, 
 Stupid, aghast he remain'd. As he stood he was struck by a Dardan 
 Right 'mid his shoulder-blades, with a spear from behind by Euphorbus, 
 Panthous' gallant son, who headed the youths of his own age, 
 Both in the use of the spear, and in driving of steeds, and the foot-race ; 
 Twenty the chiefs at least he had tumbled to earth from their war-steeds. 
 When with his car and horses he first took lessons in battle. 
 This man thus with his spear first wounded the back of Patroclus — 
 Nor with a fatal wound ; and at once from the flesh of the hero 
 Tearing the spear, he retreated again to his friends, nor adventured 
 There to abide such a foe, though unarm'd, in the perilous death-g^ipe. 
 He, by the blow of the god and the spear-stroke stunn'd and enfeebled, 
 Shunn'd approaching fate, and retreated again to his comrades. 
 Hector remark'd from afar how Patroclus, sorely disabled, 
 Wounded by hostile steel; and his great soul cow'd, was retreating 
 Back to the Argive host ; so, cleaving the ranks, overtook him. 
 Plunging the levell'd spear through his groin, right out on the far side. 
 
 C 2 
 
20 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 SovTrrjaev Se Treawv, fMeya 8' rjKaye Xaov A')(ai5)V. 
 a>? S' ore avv aKafiavra Xiwv i^trjaaro -^apfiy, 
 a> r opeo'i Kopv<j)fjai fier/a ^poveovTe /xa'^eadov, 
 TTiBaKO'; afj^' oXir/rji;- eOeKovcn Se inefj^v ap^o)' 
 TToXXa Si T aaOfJulvovTa Xi(ov eBapMaae jSirj^iV 
 w? iraiXia'; ire^vovra Mevomov aXKtfiov viov 
 "Ektcop TIpi.ap.iBn}'; <Tj(ehov erf^el 6vp,bv airrfvpa' 
 Kai ol eTTeu^o/ttew? eirea VTepoevTa irpoaTjvBa' 
 
 UdrpoKyC, ^ TTOU etfnja-Oa -koKiv Kepai^ipxv d/jLr]v, 
 TpwlaBa^ Be iyvvalKa<;, ekevBepov rjfiap dirovpa^, 
 d^eiv iv vrjecrai (piXrjv e? irarpiBa yalav, 
 vrjTTie' TOMv Be irpocrd' "jE/icto/30? w/cee? 'nnrot, 
 iroa-alv opapkyaTat, irdXefiC^eiv' ey%fc"t B' avTO<; 
 Tpoxn (jjiXoTTToXefiouri, p^erairpewo), 09 a^iv dfivvui 
 rjp^p dvar/KoZov' ere Be t evddBe ^UTre? eBovrai. 
 a BeTX', ovBi rot, ead\o<; icov, '^paio'firjaev ^^tWeu?, 
 o? TTOV TOO p^dXa iroXKa p,evasv eTreTeXKer lovrr 
 
 Thundering he fell to the earth. Loud, deep, was the wail of Achaia. 
 Just as a stubborn boar is o'ermaster'd in fight by a lion. 
 When on a mountain-peak they have wrangled in terrible combat 
 Round some half-dried spring, which both have been eager to drink of. 
 Until the lion's might has master'd his snorting opponent : 
 Thus, having overthrown many foes, the brave son of Meno2tius 
 Yielded at length his own strong soul to the weapon of Hector, 
 Who to his fallen foe thus vauntingly spake and adiress'd him : — 
 
 " Where is the boastful hope thou'st ventured to utter, Patroclus, 
 
 Speaking of Troy's wall storm'd, and her proud dames carried as captives 
 
 Off in Achaia's barks, far away to the land of the fathers ? 
 
 Fool ! those dames and wall had protectors ready to guard them ; 
 
 Hector and his swift steeds — steeds eager for war — and their master. 
 
 First among Troy's fierce sons in the use of the spear ; a defender 
 
 Fitter to ward off fate. But thou s'lalt be prey to the vultures. 
 
 Wretch ! all brave as he is, not a jot has avail'd thee Achilleu.s, 
 
 He but urged thee to death, for he charged thee, methinks, when departim 
 
2[ 
 
 1^7] fiot irplv levai, ITaTjoo/cXet? iinroKeKevde, 
 vTja^ 67rt 'Y\a<f>vpa^, irpiv y "EKTopo<i avBpo^ovoio 
 at/ubToevTa yiT&va irepl crrrjdeaab Bat^af 
 <u? TTOV ere 7rpoere<pr}, crot, Se (^peva<; d(f>povi ireWe. 
 
 Tov S' oKvyohpavemv •irpoa-e(j)r]<;, UaTpoKkei^ hnrev- 
 rjhrj vvv, "EicTop, fJLeyd\! ev^eo' crol yap eStoKe 
 VLKTjv Zehi KpoyiBrj<; kol 'AttoXXcov, o'i jjbe SdfUKraav 
 prjLSiQ3<;' avTol yap o/tt mficov reu^e' eXovro. 
 TOiovTot S' eiirep fioi eeiKoaiv avre^oKrjo-av, 
 •jravref k avroO oKovto, ifiS viro Sovpl Sa/ievre?. 
 aXXd jjue Molp' oXof), koI Aqrov'; eKTavev kw?, 
 dvSpMV S' Ev(f}op^o<;' (TV Be fie rptTo^ e^evapi^ec^. 
 dWo Be roi ipeat, <tv B' ivl ^peai ^aSXeo aycriv, 
 oi) drjv ovS' avTO<i Brjpov ^erj, dX\d toi i]Br} 
 dr/'Xi irapea-TTjKe 0dvaTO<; Kal Molpa Kparcur), 
 X^pc'' BajxevT 'A-^iX'TJo'; dfj,vfj,ovo<s AlaKiBao. 
 *i2? dpa fuv ehrovra TeSjO<i Oavdroio KoXv^e, 
 
 Thus : ' To the hollow ships do not come again, knightly Patroclus ! 
 Seek not again this face ere thou tear from the bosom of Hector 
 Corslet and blood-stain'd vest, and bear them as trophies before thee. ' 
 Such were, perchance, his words ; and thou, poor fool ! wert the victim." 
 
 Then with his failing breath, thus answered knightly Patroclus : — 
 
 " It is thy season to boast, and thou boastest enough. But thy conquest 
 
 Comes from Zeus himself, and from Phoebus — they have subdued me 
 
 Easily, as gods could ; themselves disarming my shoulders. 
 
 If twice ten such as thou had encounter'd me fairly in battle, 
 
 All had sunk in fight, and had bow'd to the brunt of my lance-point. 
 
 Fate overthrew me the first : it is Leto's son who has slain me ; 
 
 Then came of men Euphorbus, and thou standest third in the death work. 
 
 But, take heed to my words, and ponder them well as I speak them : 
 
 Know that thyself, proud man, art doom'd not long to survive me. 
 
 Death and relentless fate are standing already beside thee, 
 
 Doom'd, ere long, to be slain by the hands of the noble Achilleus !" 
 
 Thus, as he spake, came death with its dark shade gloomily o'er him, 
 
22 THE^'yPOETS OF GREECE. 
 
 ■^vyj] 8' SK pedewv irTafievrj 'AiBoaSe ^e^ij/cei, 
 
 bv irorfJiov ryoowaa, Xiirovcr dSpoTrJTa koX rj^'qv. 
 
 II., Bk. i6. 
 
 Flitted the naked soul from the beautiful body to Hades, 
 Wailing its hapless fate, and the vigour and youth it abandon'd. 
 
 DarCs Iliad. 
 
 In that passage there are many of the chief charac- 
 teristics of Homer ; and such is the nature of all the 
 fighting. The great chiefs stalk before the rank and 
 file, and sustain almost alone the fortunes of the day. It is 
 the oligarchy of battle — the monopoly of carnage ! Ajax 
 is a battalion on one side, Hector a corps d''armke on the 
 other, while Achilles, when he does condescend to sally 
 forth, slaughters Trojans by the score. The combatants 
 proclaim their own merits like Red Indians, and insult the 
 dead with bitter and barbarous taunts, as Patroclus in the 
 above extract. There is a thoroughly savage element 
 about the actual combats, which takes us back, indeed, to 
 pre-civilised times; for scarcely a great soldier in the 
 " Iliad," except Hector, comes up at all to the modern idea 
 of " an officer and a gentleman." Achilles, in the opening 
 quarrel of the poem, rails at Agamemnon (his king and 
 general, be it remembered), in this classical Billingsgate : — 
 
 OiVo/Sape?, Kvvm ofifiaT e%a)i', KpaZl/qv S' eXd<f>oto, 
 ovre iroT e? TroXe/wv ajui Xaa 6coprj')(j9rjvai, 
 ovre Xo'XpvB' Uvai aiiv apterr'^eacrtfV ^Ayai&v 
 TerXr/zca? Bvfup. n. i. 225. 
 
 Wine-sodden sot, with the face of a dog, and the heart of a roe-buck ! 
 
 Never once into the war, at the head of thy troops, in thine armour, 
 
 Never once out on the ambush, along with the lords of Achaia — 
 Daredst thou to go ! 
 
HOMER. 23 
 
 But Achilles is simply a beautiful brutal creature — the 
 apotheosis of animal force and passion — an incarnation of 
 selfish anger, only redeemed by perfect grace and bodily 
 excellence ; though his very courage is marred by the know- 
 ledge that he has the protection of Athene, and of his god- , 
 dess-mother, who have made him all but invulnerable. His 
 friendship for Patroclus seems of a dubious elevation, and 
 his rage at the death of his friend is rendered more furious, 
 apparently, by personal pique than devotion. It may be 
 said that the words which he exchanges with his horses 
 (Iliad xix. 420) prove that he foresaw and recognised his 
 fate by the arrow of Paris. If his prowess be rehabilitated 
 by this passage, his ferocity remains at least undefended 
 and indefensible. He is exactly as Horace paints him — 
 
 "Impiger, iracundus, inexorabilis, acer.'' 
 
 No man gets mercy of him in war; valour does not make him 
 respect it, nor youth win him to compassionate it. When 
 he breaks forth at last " like a hungry lion " from his tent, 
 he rages over the plain, inebriate with blood. A lion is not 
 the right simile, for a lion has generosity : Achilles, in his 
 grace and blood-thirstiness, resembles a panther rather, 
 which slays for mere lust of slaughter when peril or appetite 
 are over. Read the passage in which, after endless killing, 
 he encounters and puts to the sword the son of Alastor : — 
 
 o /iei/ avTM'i rjXvOe, yovvav, 
 
 fjur)he KoraicTeiveiev, 6/j/riKiKtiqv 6kerja-a<;' 
 wjTTto?, ovBe TO ySrj, o oil TreureaBab 6fie\'\£v. 
 ov yap Tt yXvKvdvfw; avqp rjv, ouS' ar/avo<f)pwv. 
 
24 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 aXXd fiaX' e'/i/ie/iCMB?. 6 /Mev JyTrrero %e//D60-t yovvofp, 
 le/j^vo'i Xla(Tea6\ 6 8e <pa(7ydva> ovTa Koff ?prap- 
 e/c Se ot ^Trap okiaOev, arap fj^Xav alfia xar ainov 
 KoXiTov evhrXriae, tov Se aKOTOt; oaae KoXv^e, 
 dvfiov Bevofievov. II. xix. 420. 
 
 Nor less unpitied young Alastor bleeds. 
 In vain his youth, in vain his beauty, pleads. 
 In vain he begs thee, vifith a suppliant moan. 
 To spare a form, an age so like thy ovi^n ! 
 Unhappy boy ! no prayer, no moving art. 
 E'er bent that fierce inexorable heart. 
 While yet he trembled at his knees, and cried, 
 The ruthless falchion oped his tender side. 
 The panting liver pours a flood of gore 
 That drovrais his bosom, till he pants no more. 
 
 Popis Iliad. 
 
 It is here Homer, his Hmner, who calls the Greek hv t\ 
 'fKvKvdvfio'i, "nothing sweet-natured," and Homer keeps all 
 his painting consistent and equal, so that wherever we find 
 Achilles we find this same insolent and heartless ideal of a 
 " fighting man," the a/oto-ro? of the ancient pattern. When 
 the unfair gods have given Hector into his hands, and the 
 glorious Dardan lies, with the spear-wound in his neck, 
 bleeding to death, he pleads with Achilles to let his body 
 be buried. " By thy life, by thy knees, by thy father and 
 mother," Hector entreats, " let not the dogs have my flesh. 
 Take what ransom you will ; Troy will pay any sum 1 
 But as you are brave and victorious, let my remains go 
 to my own people." Whereupon the arrogant conqueror 
 — the cannibal, rather — answers — 
 
 jM) fie, Kvov, JOVVC0V yovvd^eo, /iMjSe TOKrjuiv. 
 at ydp TTci)? avTov /ie fiivof koX 6vfw<; dv^y 
 
HOMER. 25 
 
 &)/A aTTOTa/jLvofievov Kpea eB/ievai, old (i eopya<;' 
 
 w? ovK €<t6 , o? <rrj<; ye Kwai K€<f)aX% anrdXakKOf 
 
 ovB' et Kev Se/caKt? re /cat elKocrivrjpvT diroiva 
 
 arr)a-a>(7 ivOdS" aryovre^, vvoa'xcovrai Se koX aXKcu- 
 
 ouB ei Kev a ainov j^pvcrm epvaaaOai avdyyot 
 
 AapBaviBrr)^ IIpiafio<;' ouS' <m? tre 76 voTVia fiyqT'qp 
 
 evOefievrj Xe^ieaai yo-qa-eTai, ov rexev avrr], 
 
 aXKa Kvve'i re Koi olcovol Kara •jrdvra Bdcrovrai. 
 
 n. xix. 345- 
 
 No, wretch accurs'd ! (relentless he replies : 
 Flames, as he spoke, shot flashing from his eyes). 
 Not those who gave me breath should bid me spare. 
 Nor all the sacred prevalence of prayer. 
 Could I myself the bloody banquet join ! 
 No — to the dogs that carcass I resign. 
 Should Troy to bribe me bring fortb all her store, 
 And, giving thousands, offer thousands more ; 
 Should Dardan Priam and his weeping dame 
 Drain their whole realm to buy one funeral flame : 
 Their Hector on the pile they should not see. 
 Nor rob the vultures of one limb of thee. 
 
 Pope's Iliad. 
 
 " Right well," the dying hero sighs, " I knew you were 
 iron-hearted !" Once, truly, the strong and savage nature 
 melts, when the reaction of rage sets in, and he sees Priam 
 kneeling before him, kissing the hands which have killed 
 the hope of Troy, and imploring tfiat the precious body 
 may be surrendered. Achilles softens then, and it is well- 
 nigh the only time in the " Iliad " when he is not as hateful 
 as he is fair, and as fierce as he is swift and splendid. 
 
 Hector is the " Christian soldier," as far as such a type 
 could exist before the strange doctrine astonished the world 
 that we should " love our enemies." He is even braver 
 
26 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 than Achilles, for he has no charm against spears and 
 arrows except the favour of those few Gods who happen 
 to take sides with Troy ; yet he sustains the fortunes of his 
 native city from the first to the last with generous and 
 manly valour. The noblest sentiments of the poem come 
 all from his mouth. It is he who laughs at the auguries 
 when they forbid the battle, saying — 
 
 6t9 ol(ovo<i apicrro^ dfivvecrOai, irepl Trar/o^?. 
 
 Without a bird his sword the brave man draws, 
 And asks no omen but his country's cause. 
 
 It is he who is ever ready to expose himself for the com- 
 mon cause against the most doughty champion offering, 
 and his anger is seldom roused except towards cowardice. 
 For that his patriotic soul has no manner of patience. 
 When Paris, the cause of all the war, turns back from the 
 face of Menelaus in the fight, the great warrior rebukes 
 him very sternly : — 
 
 Avtnrapi, iiho'i aptare, '^vvaiiMwh, •^epotrevTo, 
 al'^' o^eXe? ayovo<; t efievai, ar/afiot; t a'jroKiaOai. 
 Kai Ke TO ^ovXalfi^jv, Kai kev •ttoXv KepSwv rjev, 
 rj ovTco Xa>^r]v t efievai km viroyfriov dWoiv. 
 r) TTOV KoryxaXococri KaprfKOjioavTe^ ^A')(au)X, 
 
 H 
 
 Unhappy Paris ! but to women brave ! 
 
 So fairly form'd, and only to deceive ! 
 
 Oh ! hadst thou died when first thou saw'st the light. 
 
 Or died at least before thy nuptial rite ! 
 
 A better fate than vainly thus to boast. 
 
 And fly, the scandal of thy Trojan host. 
 
 Gods ! how the scornful Greeks exult to see 
 
 Their fears of danger undeceiv'd in thee ! 
 
 Thy figure promis'd with a martial air, 
 
HOMER. 27 
 
 <j)dvTe<; apioTTJa irpofiov efifievai, ovvma koKov 
 6tSo? eTr'' aTOC ovk ecrrt ^ir) ippecrlv, oi/Be Tt? oXkj]. 
 ^ TOiotrSe 60)1/ iv irovToiropoun veeaai, 
 irovTov eTTtTrXwffa?, erdpov^ epvqpcK ar/eipa<;, 
 fJLi'XOel'; aXKoSairoiin, yuvalic eveiBe dvrjye<; 
 i^ ^Airirji} 7awj?, vvov avSpav al'XJMjrdofv ; 
 irarpi re am fieya wfj/ia, iroKrj't re, travn re Bi]/J>a>, 
 hvafieveai, (lev 'xapfia, Kar'qi^eL'qv Se o-ql aira> ; 
 OVK av hi) fieiv€ui<; 'Aprjt<l)iXov MeveXaov ; 
 yvoiTji; ^ , olov <^q)to? ejects OdXep'qv irapdicomv. 
 OVK av roi 'xpaia-firj KidapK, rd re hStp 'A(j>poBirri'i, 
 7] re KOfiT], ro re elSo<;, or ev KovLrjai, fityeirj^, 
 dXKa fidXa Tp&e^ BeiS^fiov6<;' 17 re xev rjhr) 
 \dlvov ecrcro •)(yr&va, KUKav eve)^, oaaa eopja<;. 
 
 11. iii. 39-57- 
 
 But ill thy soul supplies a form so fair. 
 
 In former days, in all thy gallant pride, 
 
 When thy tall ships triumphant stemm'd the tide, 
 
 When Greece beheld thy painted canvas flow. 
 
 And crowds stood wondering at the passing show ; 
 
 Say, was it thus, with such a baffled mien. 
 
 You met th' approaches of the Spartan queen ; 
 
 Thus from her realm convey'd the beauteous prize, 
 
 And both her warlike lords outshin'd in Helen's eyes ? 
 
 This deed, thy foes' delight, thy own disgrace. 
 
 Thy father's grief, the ruin of thy race ; 
 
 This deed recalls thee to the proffer'd fight ; 
 
 Or hast thou injur'd whom thou dar'st not right ? 
 
 Soon to thy cost the field would make thee know 
 
 Thou keep'st the consort of a braver foe. 
 
 Thy graceful form instilling soft desire, 
 
 Thy curling tresses, and thy silver lyre, 
 
 Beauty and youth, in vain to these you trust, 
 
 When youth and beauty shall be laid in dust 
 
 Troy yet may wake, and one avenging blow 
 
 Crush the dire author of his country's woe. 
 
 Popis Homer's Iliad. 
 
28 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 But when Paris, ashamed and reminded of himself, offers 
 to engage Menelaus in single combat, Hector's heart leaps 
 up for joy to find his brother no poltroon : exapt] fiiya. He 
 is mightily glad, for he harbours no petty feeling, and will 
 fight twice ten years, if necessary, after that, for Paris and 
 Helen. Towards the beautiful Greek who is the cause of 
 such woe to his country, Hector is ever exquisite in manner. 
 The few passages wherein they encounter represent him as 
 gravely courteous, and her as in turn sincerely respectful ; 
 and though we must not mistake their age for one of much 
 '• morahty" in the modern sense, it is plain, from Hector's 
 well-marked deference, and the mild language of King 
 Priam, that Helen was meant by Homer to seem no 
 wanton "light o' love." Obviously 
 
 "The face that launched a thousand ships, 
 And sacked the topless towers of Ilium " 
 
 appeared to the Trojan generalissimo — one of a breed of 
 
 sea-pirates himself — excuse for a good deal. Yet in his 
 
 grave and dutiful speeches, and far different estimate of 
 
 love, as evinced towards Andromache; as well as in Homer's 
 
 obvious preference for the gallant chieftain, we see the light 
 
 of a purer principle very clear. Perhaps the most lovely 
 
 passage of the " Iliad " is that oft-cited one in which 
 
 Hector bids adieu to his wife and child before joining 
 
 battle. It is this : — 
 
 Aaifiovie, (fiOiaei, ae to aov fievo^, ovS" eXeatpet? 
 
 TraiBd re vrjTrta'Xpv, kclL efju dfi/wpov, rj rd'^a XV PV 
 
 aev ecrofjiai,. Td^a yap ere KaraKTaveova-tv 'Axacol, 
 
 Too daring prince ! ah ! whither dost thou run ? 
 Oh ! so forgetful of thy wife and son ! 
 And think'st tliou not how wretched we shall be, 
 
HOMER. 
 
 29 
 
 iravT&i e^opfn)devT6<;. i/wl 8e ke KepSiov eti], 
 crev d<f}afuipTovcrri, j(d6va Svfievai, oil yap eV oXKt] 
 earai OaXTTtopr], i-Trel av avye iroTfiov iviaTry^, 
 dXX a%6'. ovBe (Wi iarl -jraTrjp Koi irorvia /ii^TT/p' 
 ijTot yap irarep dfiov dm-eKrave Sto? '^^tWeu?, 
 6K Se irokiv nrepae KiXUav eS vaierdcoa-av, 
 0rjj3riv {/■yfriirvXov Kara S' eKTavev ^ Hericova, 
 ovBi fuv i^evdpi^e' ae^daaaTO yap Toye Ovfua- 
 dXK apa fuv Kariicrje aiiv evrecri SaLSoKeoicriv, 
 17S' 67rt crfj/Jk eyeev irepi he irT6\ea<; i^xnevcrav 
 NvfKpai 'Opea-TidBei;, Kovpai Aio<; aiyio'xpio. 
 o'C Si fioi eirrd KacrLyvrjrot,' eaav ev /leydpoio'iv, 
 ol fiev TTaiTfi? IS Kiov fjpuTL "AiSos el'fTW 
 irdvTa'; ydp KaTi'jre<f>ve TroBdpKr]'; Blo<! '^p^tWew, 
 ^ovalv eir eiki/rrohecrcn Kol dpyem>fj<; otecrcn. 
 
 A widow I, a helpless orphan he ? 
 
 For sure such courage length of life denies ; 
 
 And thou must fall, thy virtue's sacrifice. 
 
 Greece in her single heroes strove in vain ; 
 
 Now hosts oppose thee, and thou must be slain. 
 
 Oh ! grant me, gods ! ere Hector meets his doom, 
 
 All I can ask of Heaven, an early tomb ! 
 
 So shall my days in one sad tenor run ; 
 
 And end with sorrows as they first begun. 
 
 No parent now remains my giiefs to share, 
 
 No father's aid, no mother's tender care. 
 
 The fierce Achilles wrapp'd our walls in fire ; 
 
 Laid Thebi waste, and slew my warlike sire ! 
 
 His fate compassion in the victor bred. 
 
 Stem as he was, he yet rever'd the dead ; 
 
 His radiant arms preserv'd from hostile spoil, 
 
 And laid him decent on the funeral pile : 
 
 Then rais'd a mountain where his bones were burn'd. 
 
 The mountain nymphs the rural tomb adorn'd. 
 
 Jove's sylvan daughters bade their elms bestow 
 
 A barren shade, and in his honour grow. 
 
30 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 fx/ryrkpa S', rj ^aaiXevev mro Hkdicm vkTiecrarj), 
 rrjv iirel ap Sevp' riya/y a/j, aXKoicn KTeaTe(Tcnv, 
 a^jr oye ttjv airekvae, Xa^wJ avepeicn cmroiva' 
 Trarpo? 8' ev fieydpoiai /SaX' ''Aprefik'i Loj(e.ai,pa. 
 "EKTop, anrap av jJboi, ea-al Trarrjp Kal irorvia /jLrjrrjp, 
 yBe KaauyvriTO';, av Se fioi 6a\£po<; irapaKourr)';. 
 aXX' 076 vvv eXeaipe, Kal avrov jjLifw eVt TTvpyai, 
 /jbi] TraZS' 6p(f>aviKov 6eiri<;, XVPV^ '^^ ywaiKa' 
 \aov Be cTTrjaov Trap" ipiveov, ev6a fiaXicrra 
 afijSaro'i ecrrt TroXt?, km, hrihpofwv hrXero ret^o?. 
 Tp\<; yap r^ <y iXdovreii iireipTicravd 01 aptaroi 
 afj,(j) A'iavre hv<o, Kal wyaicKvTov ^ISofievrja, 
 jJS' a/jbcj) 'ArpelSa^, Kal TvBeo<; aXKifiov vlov 
 fjTTov t/? a^iv evia-ire deoTTpOTrlwv ev elBw^, 
 r) vv Kal avTcbv 6vfio<; i'jroTpvvei Kai avaiyei. 
 
 By the same arm my seven brave brothers fell, 
 In one sad day beheld the gates of hell. 
 While the fat herds and snowy flocks they fed, 
 Amid their fields, the hapless heroes bled ! 
 My mother liv'd to bear the victor's bands. 
 The queen of Hippoplacia's sylvan lands, 
 Redeem'd too late, she scarce beheld again. 
 Her pleasing empire and her native plain, 
 ■When, ah ! oppress'd by life-consuming v^oe. 
 She fell a victim to Diana's bow. 
 Yet, while my Hector still survives, I see 
 My father, mother, brethren, all in thee. 
 Alas ! my parents, brothers, kindred, all 
 Once more will perish, if my Hector fall. 
 Thy wife, thy infant, in thy danger share : 
 Oh ! prove a husband's and a father's care ! 
 That quarter most the skilful Greeks annoy, 
 Where yon wild fig-trees join the wall of Troy. 
 Thou from this tower defend th' important post. 
 There Agamemnon points his dreadful host. 
 That pass Tydides, Ajax, strive to gain ; 
 And there the vengeful Spartan fires his train. 
 Thrice our bold foes the fierce attack have given, 
 
HOMER. 
 
 Trjv S' avre Trpocreenre fiirya'i KopvOaCoKo^ "EKrap" 
 ?l Kal ifiol rdSe irdvra fiekei, <yvvai' oXKA fiaX' alva><; 
 alSiofuu Tpa>a<; Kal TpmdSa<; eX/eeirtTreTrXou?, 
 at Ke, KaKO<; w?, voar^iv aKv<TKd^a> iroXifioLO. ' 
 
 ouS' ifM€ dvfio<; civxtr/ev eVel fidOov e/ifievai, eV^Xo? 
 alei, Kal -irpmroiai, fiera Tpotecrai fj.d'xeaOai, 
 dpvufievo'; Trarpo? re fjbeya kSAo';, ^S' ijJMV airov. 
 €v fjiev yap ToSe otSa Kara ^peva Kal Kara 6v/m6v, 
 ecrcrerai rjfiap, or av ttot omom) l/ucy; ipr], 
 Kal IIpLafio<;, Kal Xao!; evfifieXuo IIpidfioLO. 
 d.\X' ov fiot Tpdxov Toacrov fiiXei a\ryo<; ovla-cro), 
 ovT avTTj'; 'EKa^r]';, oiWe Upidfioio dvaKTO^, 
 oirre Kaav^vrfrwv, ot Kev TroXee^ re Kai iadXol 
 iv Kovirjai ireaoiev inr dvhpdcn Bvafieveeacriv, 
 oa-crov (ret, ore ksv n<i ^A'^aiap 'xoXko-xitcovcov 
 
 Or led by hopes, or dictated from heaven. 
 Let others in the field their arms employ ; 
 But stay my Hector here, and guard his Troy. 
 
 The chief replied : That post shall be my care. 
 Nor that alone, but all the works of war. 
 How would the sons of Troy, in arms renown' d. 
 And Troy's proud dames, whose garments sweep the ground. 
 Attaint the lustre of my former name. 
 Should Hector basely quit the field of fame ! 
 My early youth was bred to martial pains. 
 My soul impels me to th' embattled plains. 
 Let me be foremost to defend the throne. 
 And guard my father's glories and my own. 
 Yet come it will, the day decreed by fates, 
 (How my heart trembles, while my tongue relates !; 
 The day when thou, imperial Troy ! must bend, 
 And see thy warriors fall, thy glories end. 
 And yet no dire presage so wounds my mind. 
 My mother's death, the ruin of my kind, 
 Not Priam's hoary hairs defil'd with gore. 
 Not all my brothers gasping on the shore, 
 
 31 
 
32 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 BaKpvoeacrav ayrjrai, iKevOepov rjfiap airovpas;- 
 Kai KEV, iv ''Apyei eovaa, tTjOO? aXXr)<; iarbv vcpaivoK, 
 Kai K€v vBap <popioi<; Mea<7r)iBo<; rj 'Tirepevr)';, 
 iroK)C deKa^o/iivri' Kparepr) S" eTTiKeiaer avop/Kr)- 
 KM TTOTe TK eiirrjaiv, IBmv Kara StiKpv yeovaav 
 "EKTopo^ rjBe yvvT], 09 aptareveaKe fJud'yecrOab 
 Tpwcov liT'Kohdfiav, ore IXiov dfj,^efj,a')(ovTo. 
 (W9 TTore Tt9 epier crol 8' av viov eaaerai aX/yo? 
 ^j^rei' TOLovB' avBpb^, dfivveiv SovXiov rjp,ap. 
 dXKa fie redveiMTa %iit^ Kara yaia KaXvirroi, 
 irpiv ye ri arji; re /So?)?, aov 0" eXKrjdnolo irvdiaOai. 
 */2? eiTToov, OX) iraiSo'i opi^aro ^aLSifioi "EKrap. 
 ayjr S' d Trat? •Trpo? koXttov ev^covoio TiO'yjmji; 
 i/cXivOij ld')(u>v, Trarpo'i iplXov &\jriv dTV)(9eU, 
 Tap^rjaas; 'xoKkov t, rjBe Xdc/ioz/ l'inno')(a,l,Triv, 
 
 As thine, Andromache ! thy griefs I dread. 
 I see thee trembling, weeping, captive led, 
 In Argive looms our battles to design, 
 And woes of which so large a part was thine : 
 To bear the victor's hard commands, or bring 
 The weight of waters from Hyperia's spring. 
 There, while you groan beneath the load of life, 
 They cry, behold the mighty Hector's wife ! 
 Some haughty Greek, who lives thy tears to see, 
 Embitters all thy woes, by naming me. 
 The thoughts of glory past and present shame, 
 A thousand griefs shall waken at the name ! 
 May I lie cold, before that dreadful day, 
 Press'd with a load of monumental clay ! 
 Thy Hector, wrapt in everlasting sleep, 
 Shall neither hear thee sigh, nor see thee weep. 
 
 Thus having spoke, th' illustrious chief of Troy, 
 Stretcli'd his fond arms to clasp the lovely boy. 
 The babe clung crying to his nurse's breast, 
 Scar'd at the dazzling helm and nodding crest. 
 With secret pleasure each fond parent smil'd ; 
 
33 
 
 hetvov aif aKpoTarT)'; KopvOo^ vevovra voricraf 
 6K Be yiXatrae warjjjo re ^t'Ko<;, koi iroTvia firjrrjp. 
 avTiK a/TTo KpaTo^ Kopvff' etXero ^aLhijJLO'; "EKTeop, 
 Kol Trjv fiev KaTe6r)Kev eTrt ydovl irafi^avowcrav. 
 aiirap, oy ov <f)l\ov vlov eVet Kva-e, TrfjXe re 'xepa-lv, 
 eiTrev eirev^dfj,evo<; Ait t, aXKoiai re Oedlaf 
 
 Zev, dXKoi re deol. Sore S^ icai Tovhe yepsadai, 
 TTCuS' ifwv, o)? KoX iyci) irep, apiTrperrea Tpaieaaw, 
 (oBe ^Lfjv T a/yadbv, koI 'TXtou t(^t dvdaaeiv. 
 Kal TTori Tt9 eiirrjcn,' vraTjOO? S' 076 troXKov d/iew/wv 
 e« TToKsfiov aviovra' <^spoi S' euapa ^poToevra, 
 KTeiva<; Bi^'iov avSpa, -xapetf] Se (ppeva fjuijT'rjp. 
 
 '^/2? el-irmv, dXo'Xpio (plXrj!; iv 'xeperlv edtjKe 
 •rralS' kov r) B' dpa fiLV KrjaBei Bi^aro Kokirw, 
 
 And Hector hasted to relieve his child ; 
 The glittering terrors from his brows unbound, 
 And placed the beaming helmet on the ground : 
 Then kiss'd the child, and, lifting high in air, 
 Thus to the gods preferr'd a father's prayer : 
 
 O thou ! whose glory fills th' ethereal throne. 
 And all ye deathless powers ! protect my son ! 
 Grant him, like me, to purchase just renown. 
 To guard the Trojans, to defend the crown ; 
 Against his country's foes the war to wage. 
 And rise, the Hector of the future age ! 
 So when, triumphant from successful toils, 
 Of heroes slain he bears the reeking spoils. 
 Whole hosts may hail him with deserv'd acclaim, 
 And say, This chief transcends his father's fame : 
 While, pleas'd amidst the general shouts of Troy, 
 His mother's conscious heart o'erflows with joy. 
 
 He spoke, and, fondly gazing on her charms, 
 Restor'd the pleasing burden to her arms. 
 Soft on her fragrant breast the babe she laid, 
 Hush'd to repose, and with a smile survey'd. 
 The troubled pleasure soon chastis'd by fear. 
 She mingled with the smile a tender tear. 
 
 D 
 
34 
 
 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 haKpvoeu yeXdrTaaa. iroffK S' ikerjae vorjaa/;, 
 X^i-P^ Te fitv Karipe^ev, eVo? t' e(paT, e'« r ovo/ia^e- 
 
 Aaifiovi'T), jjirj jwi Tt XMjf aKa')(i^eo Ovfxm. 
 oil yap Ti9 fi vvep alaav avrjp ''AlBt, Trpo'iayjrei. 
 fiolpav S' ovTivd (fyijui ire^vyp-evov e/Jifievai dvBpwVt 
 oil KUKov, oi/Se fiev e<r0kov, i-Trrjv TaTrpSrra yevryrai, 
 dXfC ek diKov lovaa to, travrrj'; epja KOfii^e, 
 lOTov T, rjXaKCLTqv T6, Kai dix^iTToKoKTi, KeKeve 
 epyov hroiT(€(7dar TroXe/io'; 8' dvSpeaai fieXrjaei 
 
 iraaiv, i/Mol Se jxaXicrra, Toi 'I\i(p eyyeyda<nv. 
 
 II. vi. 394—494. 
 
 The soften'd chief with kind compassion view'd, 
 And dried the faUing drops, and thus pursued : 
 
 Andromache ! my soul's far better part ! 
 Why with untimely sorrows heaves thy heart ? 
 No hostile hand can antedate my doom, 
 Till fate condemns me to the silent tomb. 
 Fix'd is the term to all the race of earth ; 
 And such the hard condition of our birth. , 
 No force can then resist, no flight can save ; 
 All sink alike, the fearful and the brave. 
 No more — but hasten to the tasks at home ; 
 There guide the spindle, and direct the loom. 
 Me glory summons to the martial scene ; 
 The field of combat is the sphere for men. 
 Where heroes war, the foremost place I claim. 
 The first in danger, as the first in fame. Pope's Homer's Iliad 
 
 The quotation is long, but Hector well deserves it ; for what 
 can be finer than the strong soldier's tenderness, the gentle 
 manliness which he displays towards his wife, and that 
 sweet touch of nature, linking the far-off day with all which 
 is soft and loving in human spirits for ever, when he takes 
 off his nodding helmet-plume that the little Astyanax may 
 not be frightened } What can be more eloquent, either, 
 
HOMER. 3 5 
 
 than the SaKpvoev yeXda-aa-a, the " tearful smile " of Andro- 
 mache ? Usage has wrought this noble Trojan much wrong 
 in making the verb " to hector " imply, as it does, " to 
 swagger," " to bluster." The chief talks fiercely and big 
 at time?, like the others ; but from first to last he is the 
 Bayard of the " Iliad," " sans peur et sans reproche." 
 
 This identity in the personal qualities of the Homeric 
 heroes is to a just mind one of the greatest proofs of the 
 unity of the work. It is preserved through all the leading 
 characters. Ajax is ever blunderingly brave — a "heavy" 
 of the Greek foot-guards; a "beef-witted lord,' "good at 
 need," in truth, but with muscle somewhat cumbrously 
 overlying mind. Paris is light, womanish, sensitive, grace- 
 ful, and unstable ; Diomed, quick in council and agile in 
 the fight — a Greek Paris without the , feminine element. 
 We are nowhere jarred by such inconsistencies as patch- 
 work composition would have brought in. Ulysses, doubly 
 important because he is the hero of the second poem of 
 this duology, never once loses his character as TroXu/LtT/rt?. 
 He fights like a cunning man, and plots like a brave one ; 
 he has neither any cowardice in him, nor any imprudence — - 
 nor, to speak the truth, very much true elevation of soul. 
 He is Common Sense in splendid armour — a mailed pere 
 de famille ; wise, substantial, unvulgar, but as practical as a 
 British tax-payer. The clear, broad lines in which Homer 
 paints this favourite of Pallas — as also the companion- 
 portrait of ^neas, the Trojan prince — are almost as strong 
 as proof can be to the careful student that one and the 
 same genius created or recalled to life the grand company 
 of captains amid which these live and move. It may be 
 
 D 2 
 
36 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 seen by the "^neid " and in " Troilus and Cressida" how 
 perfectly easy it was to identify and transfer such vitahsed 
 and consistent individualities. 
 
 But the women of Homer must have due mention. 
 First in beauty and world-wide fame — not in virtue, alas ! 
 comes that fair plague of men — 
 
 'EXeva<;, eXavBpo<;, JXeTrroXt?, 
 
 the "causa teterrima belli" — HELEN, Homer takes care 
 that we shall know how glorious her charms were, and 
 why so many Greeks and Trojans died gladly for their 
 sake. When she passes out upon the wall among the 
 old men of the city, even they chirrup praises at her like 
 grasshoppers, Terrl'^eaauv eoiKOT6<;. They say, with effusion 
 of admiration — 
 
 Ov vefieai.^, Tpwa^ koX evKVrjfj.tha'i ^A-)(aLov<; 
 
 ToiyS' afj,(f>l ywMKl iroXiiv 'xpovov ahyea Tracrp^ew 
 
 alva^ adavdrycn Oefjt; 649 wira eooKev. 
 
 aXKa KoX W9, Tohi irep eova, ev vvvcrl vekadai, 
 
 IJ/qK Tfiuv TeKeecrrri r oiriaffm Trrjfia XhroiTO, 
 
 II. iii. 155. 
 
 Sure 'tis no marvel that Troy and the well-greaved men of Achaia 
 All this while should struggle and bleed for a woman like that one ! 
 Awfully lovely she is, and like the. immortals to look on ; 
 Still, it were well she went back in the ships with her terrible beauty, 
 Rather than tarry, a curse upon us, and our children hereafter. 
 
 And Helen — her history notwithstanding, and notwith- 
 standing that she has to look out from the Trojan wall and 
 point below it to Menelaus, her deserted husband — is in 
 Homer no wanton, but a gentle, though sinful, and .sor- 
 rowful dame. Priam comforts her with pious words about 
 
HOMER. 
 
 37 
 
 the "power of the gods;" Hector is, as has been said, 
 invariably respectful and polite ; Antenor, and all the 
 chiefs — full allowance being made for the laxer morality 
 of the old days — are still particularly tender and pitiful 
 towards her, as if Priam's view of the matter were upon 
 all their minds— 
 
 ovTi fjiot alruq iaaX, 6eoi vv fwi airiot iuriv. 
 
 II. iiL 1 60. 
 'Tis not you are the cause — the gods are the cause— the gods only. 
 
 Her best plea for consideration throughout the carnage 
 which takes place around and on account of her, is, that 
 she never forgives herself. Others may see in her but 
 the victim of the will of Zeus — she for herself is deeply 
 ashamed and penitent ; even in her tenderest passages 
 with Paris, she retains enough of the Greek princess in 
 her to upbraid him for his cowardice and to regret her 
 guilt ; while before Hector's face she abases herself 
 into the dust with the agony of self-reproach, and pours 
 out all a woman's burning pity for her thousands of 
 bleeding victims. In the " Odyssey '' these qualities in 
 her, so carefully emphasised by the great artist, have 
 brought her as much peace of mind as the dreadful war 
 can have left. She is discovered to us restored, and 
 not without honour and happiness, to the court of her 
 husband Menelaus — modest, hospitable, but high-serious 
 with her past shame and present forgiveness. Very 
 tender and full of a later wisdom are those last words 
 of Helen in the " Odyssey " — 
 
 evff clIC^MjI Tpaal Xlry eKmKvov avrap ifwv Krjp 
 X''''^P> ^7^^^ V^V M"* KpaZiTj TeTpaiTTO veecrdai 
 
^8 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 ai|r oLKOvE , aTt\v Se nerecrrevov, fjv 'A^poSirij 
 
 SwT^', ore fi ijyaye Kelcre <j)iX/ri<; aTro TrarpiSos air)';, 
 
 •jraiSd T ifiTjv vocr<f)ityaafievrjv BaXafiov re irbcriv re 
 
 ov rev Bevofievov, ovt ap ^peva<; ovt€ ti etSo?. 
 
 Od. iv. 261. 
 
 Troy and the Trojan dames were sad. But I then the rather 
 Gladdened, because my heart was turned to sail the sea over 
 Back to my home — for I mourned the sweet mischief the goddess had 
 
 done me, 
 Aphrodite the strong, in tempting me far from my country. 
 Far from my child, my home — far, worst of all, from my lord here. 
 Second to no one — ah me ! in heart, nor in beauty of body. 
 
 But, indeed, if virtue had its rights of precedence, Hector's 
 wife should come first. Andromache, shrined in the very- 
 loveliest verses wherever her name occurs, and heroine of 
 that already-quoted passage which breaks the clouds of 
 war like the evening star, is therein sufficiently pourtrayed. 
 Andromache is one of those perfect wives whose instinctive 
 honour and purity taught the world' the happy lesson of 
 such words as honour and purity in times when constancy 
 and wedded troth were only being learned. None of the 
 goddesses in the Iliadic heaven are so divine as this Trojan 
 mother and wife, whose grace and goodness, pourtrayed 
 so early, and belonging to an age so far removed, help 
 us to believe that "sweetness and light" were among the 
 most ancient of the possessions of the world, and, above 
 all, of that sex which the other treats as " inferior." 
 
 The morality of Homer has been a subject of much 
 discussion in all ages, from Plato down to Mr. Gladstone. 
 The Athenian philosopher, who drove the poets from his 
 republic, makes no exception in favour of the Father of 
 them. He condemns him for a theology where the Gods 
 
HOMER. 
 
 39 
 
 are of lite passions with men ; sharing their angers ; hot 
 with their foolish factions ; fighting in unfair disguise amid 
 their ranks; and even wounded by their spears. This, 
 however, is no fault of the poet. He found the religion of 
 his time anthropomorphic, and he merely turned it into 
 charming verse. Nor is there always wanting an esoteric 
 meaning in his melange of gods and chieftains. If 
 Apollo favours Hector, and Pallas aids Ulysses, this was 
 •the old-world way of teaching that " Heaven helps those 
 who help themselves." Judged by the religious thought 
 of later days, or even by the high and clear light of 
 Plato's intellect and conscience. Homer no doubt was but 
 a "heathen-man." The machinery of the blind singer's 
 creed is clumsy — his Jove is overmastered by Fate, and 
 weighs the lives of contending lords against each other 
 with no more power of control than a grocer possesses to 
 make two pounds of one commodity lighter than a pound 
 and a half of another. His heroes fight like Chinese braves 
 for swagger, like cannibals for ferocity; and Diomed and 
 Ulysses, upon a midnight reconnoitring expedition, kill 
 sleeping men without the smallest compunction. But 
 making reservation for the age and the training of Homer, 
 his work is to be unhesitatingly declared as one of a clear 
 and pronounced morality. Horace has not praised him too 
 much in saying that he " teaches the noble and ignoble, 
 the becoming and unbecoming, better than Chrysippus and 
 Grantor." He pourtrays his warriors very much, in truth, 
 au naturel — they eat and drink, fight and repose, jest 
 roughly or weep with effusion, like the sons of nature that 
 they were. He is not answerable, however, for them, nor 
 
40 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 for his uxorious Jove, nor yet for the tiger-Hke fighting- 
 men who tear the spear from the entrails of their enemy, 
 and deride him as he sobs and dies. But the chivalry 
 of Sarpedon, the patriotic devotion of Hector, the perfect 
 wifehood of Andromache, and the heart-felt repentance 
 of Helen, with many a passage of lofty honour, and much 
 sentiment, rich with the spirit of knighthood before 
 its time, show Homer to have been true to his "divine 
 mission" as a poet. For a real poet is divine, and priest 
 of God by better consecration than any which the churches 
 can confer. St. Basil did very well, therefore, to cite " the 
 blind old man " as one who always upheld virtue and high 
 ends and thoughts in life. To this chief merit must be 
 added his radiant cheerfulness of mind, and simple delight 
 in the world of objects and of actions — the true and glad 
 Greek nature — in itself a virtue. He tells us of the Fates, 
 the Gods, the scenes of "camp and city, the joys and troubles, 
 the tears and smiles of his heroes artd heroines, with that 
 serene calm which only the best singers have. He will no 
 more be affected by the carnage of his theme than a river 
 will be always stained with the blood from a battle. There 
 is the melancholy, indeed, of early religious thought about 
 him when he speaks of " the races of men falling like the 
 leaves ;" and the awe of mankind's eternal wonder at the 
 " for ever " when he describes soul after soul of his fighting 
 men " unwillingly seeking the gloomy shades below." Yet, 
 like the Greek he was, he turns for ever to the light — for 
 ever to the lovely things which are in the world — to this 
 gay, picturesque, sufficing, delightful, many-coloured exist- 
 ence of mankind ; and though Jove sports with mortals, and 
 
HOMER. 
 
 41 
 
 Fate controls Jove, the sense of some sweeter and holier 
 dva^, of some more just and potent God above both, js 
 rather felt than read in these his two grand pagan epics. , 
 Their style, as has been said, cannot be conveyed, fof 
 the old wine, in this case, truly bursts the new bottles. 
 The study of Greek might well be undertaken were it 
 only for the possession of Homer's music and manner. His 
 Achaean hexameters have the utmost vigour, puissance, 
 and billow-like might and flow of which this powerful 
 metre is capable. It carries itself with such swing and 
 skill, that one forgets the art, which is all the while ex- 
 quisite, though never finical. Solemn or sweet, majestic or 
 simple, slow as the march of legions, or fiery as the charge 
 of fight, the dactyls and spondees roll along, their very 
 syllables making the music to the sense, as if the verses 
 broke — which doubtless most of them did— straight from 
 the lips of the bard, while his blind eyes worked with the 
 splendour of the vivid .vision of each scene. The way in 
 which the spirit of Homer thus drives along the rolling 
 vocables of his Greek in rhythmic flood, is like the action of 
 the wind upon the wide sea. The nature-like power of the 
 poet is, indeed, his central quality ; he has so much to tell, 
 and goes the nearest way to tell it, with no apparent art, 
 and no pomp of diction but the glorious language of his 
 race, and the poetry inherent in his theme. He possesses 
 the qualities of a narrator sufficiently to excite and assure 
 attention — but you must sit down' and listen ; he will not 
 bribe you with artifices and surprises ; when the action de- 
 mands it, he will tell a message twice over, or repeat a long 
 speech ; if one word serves his purpose, he will use it as 
 
42 
 
 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 often as he wants it, not hunting for synonyms. He is 
 the freshest, easiest, serenest, and simplest bard, as he was 
 he first ; the colours of his page are clear and strong as 
 ..hose of the dawn ; the air of him is like the breath of 
 morning moving over a waking earth ; the light upon 
 him lies like the light of heaven upon the highest alpine 
 peaks — white, broad, beautiful, unbroken. 
 
 The " Odyssey " deals with a theme as interesting and 
 momentous for Greece as the siege of Troy, namely, the 
 w(7T0t, or home voyages of the Achaean leaders. It is 
 easy to see in the early history of Hellas that the pro- 
 longed return of Agamemnon, Teucer, Ulysses, and many 
 other chieftains, led to all sorts of revolutions in their 
 states. For his second epic Homer takes the adventurous 
 cruise of Ulysses, or " Odysseus," as he is always called 
 in the Greek. It is many years since Troy was taken 
 when we find Ulysses still afar from Ithaca, which he 
 for ever desires to reach. Penelope, his wife, left on the 
 island with her son Telemachus, is besieged by the suits 
 of the princes ruling the Ionian Archipelago, who live in 
 her palace upon the belongings of the absent hero, be- 
 having in an abominable manner, and are, in truth, on the 
 point of forcing her to choose one of them as husband. 
 Telemachus denounces the conduct of these rioters before 
 the Ithacans, and then goes away to seek for his father 
 in the courts of Nestor and Menelaus. Ulysses has, mean- 
 while, been in many places, and last of all languishing in 
 the isle of Ortygia, the residence of Calypso ; but a reviving 
 impulse constrains him to break away from the enchanting 
 
HOMER. 
 
 43 
 
 goddess, and he escapes upon a raft. The wrath of Nep- 
 tune follows him over the sea in the shape of a terrible 
 tempest, which casts him away upon the islets inhabited by 
 the Phaeacians. Alcinous, the king, receives him with great 
 hospitality, and here Ulysses relates a series of his past 
 maritime adventures, which makes the " Odyssey " a mine 
 of delightful fables, as fascinating— but as little veracious 
 — as those of the "Arabian Nights." The Greek warrior 
 and mariner recounts how the winds have tossed him from 
 peril to peril, from sea to sea ; how he has been with the 
 Circonians, reclined with his sailors along the sleepy rills 
 of Lotus-land, escaped the awful clutches of the Cyclops 
 Polypheme, lodged with King ^olus, and the Lestry- 
 gonians (classic cannibals), and feasted safely in that magic 
 isle of .^ea where Circe, the fair and wicked witch, turns 
 men into beasts. Spell-bound, the Phaeacians listen to 
 him — as does his reader now — while he descends into the 
 very shades, and speaks with souls of the dead, athirst 
 for the scent of the sacrifices. He tells how he came 
 past the bewitching but deadly seductions of the Sirens ; 
 avoided the double danger of Scylla and Charybdis ; and 
 fled from the wrath of the Deity of the Sun, whose bullocks 
 his companions had rashly eaten. All these tales of the 
 sea, full of the flavour of strange voyaging — when the world 
 was young, and anything might very well be true — follow 
 one another in a charming recitation. We listen yet to our 
 Greek Sindbad with an attention which becomes intense 
 and youthful ; and we forget to disbelieve him — we forget 
 even Penelope and the wicked suitors — tracking these 
 weird and wondrous travels by the lips of the cunning and 
 
44 
 
 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 brave island-prince. It is Lotus-land of the mind to sit 
 and hear the long hexameters rolling, like the measured 
 sea curling on the placid beach of the real golden-lighted 
 Lotus-land — 
 
 rlbv 8' 05 Tt? "Kandlo (jja/yot fieXirjoea Kapirov, 
 
 ov/ceT a/TTorfyeiXat TrdXtv r)6eKev ovSe veeadai,, 
 
 aXX' avTov ^ovKovro fier avBpdcri Aarocpar/oiaiv 
 
 XcoTOV epejTTOfievot, /Mevifiev voarov re XaOeaOai. 
 
 Od. ix. 94. 
 
 Whoso has tasted the honey-sweet fruit from the stems of the lotus, 
 Nevermore wishes to leave it, and never once longs to go homeward ; 
 There would he stay if he could, content, with the eaters of lotus, 
 Pluckmg and eating the lotus, forgetting that he was returning. 
 
 We forget that Ulysses must return, and we awake half- 
 sadly to a life where the charm of the fables fades away into 
 their abiding lessons — where the Sirens are, as we perceive, 
 the perilous pleasures of sense ; and Circe is the ensnaring 
 witchery of animal appetites ; and Calypso is no fiction at 
 ail, nor Ortygia a mythical prison-house of temptations. 
 However, the Phaeacians presently send their guest away 
 in a new ship, and lay him asleep on his own island, with 
 his presents and property beside him. He wakes and 
 thinks he is again deserted, and far from Ithaca ; but 
 soon meets and recognises his old servant Eumseus the 
 swineherd, who reports all the enormities of the suitors 
 to him, and brings Telemachus, by this time returned 
 home, to his father's side. The three concert together a plan 
 for the punishment of the suitors, and Ulysses is intro- 
 duced as a beggar to the palace among these personages ; 
 who are eating and drinking his substance and persecuting 
 
HOMES, 
 
 45 
 
 his queen. No one guesses that the ragged stranger is the 
 island King, except an old nurse about the palace and the 
 dog Argos, which wags its tail at sight of its master, and 
 dies outright for joy, The situation is here extremely- 
 dramatic, and the interest of the poem most absorbing. 
 
 Penelope, ignorant of her husband's return — doubtful, 
 indeed, of his existence — has engaged, after all kinds of 
 evasions, to give her assent to that one of the Ithacan 
 suitors who can win the prize in a match at the targets. 
 But the bow used must be the one which Ulysses left 
 when he sailed away for Troy, and not a man of them can so 
 much as string it. Telemachus obtains permission for the 
 ragged beggar to try his hand ; whereupon, to the astonish- 
 ment of all, this vagabond stranger strings and manages 
 the weapon with ease, and sends an arrow from it clean 
 and straight into the distant mark. Now commences as 
 moving a piece of description in the Greek as ever has 
 been put in words, and it is a marvel that no great 
 painter has yet essayed to fix upon his canvas this 
 splendid and terrible scene of the vengeance of Ulysses. 
 The hero strides from the shooting-ground, bow in hand, 
 to the threshold of the hall where the suitors are revel- 
 ling; and there he flings the mendicant's dress from off 
 his armour, and flashes out upon the princely robbers 
 like an armed vision of Nemesis. There can be no better 
 passage quoted to show the power and music of the 
 "Odysseiad." Thus begins the twenty-second book, and 
 afterwards are given such words as come to the author's 
 pen, anxious but not able to convey a full taste of the 
 rich pleasure of this Greek : — 
 
46 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 Airap 6 yvfivmOf) paKeav 'iro\vfir)rt'; 'OSuo-ffew, 
 
 oXto S' eVi fiijav ovSov 6%&)i/ /3tw ^Se (j)apeTp7)v 
 
 Iwv efnrXecTjv, raxea<; 8' eKxevar olarToxx; 
 
 avTOv irpoa-de ttoSiov, fiera Se fivrjcrnipaiv eei-rrev 
 
 " ouTO? fiev St] ded\o<; adaTO<; iKTereXearar 
 
 vvv avre aKO-rrov dWov, ov ov ttco tk ^akev avrip, 
 
 eia-ofiai, ai K6 rvxcofit, iroprj Se fioi ev^o? ' AiroKKav' 
 
 ''H, KOi eV 'AvTivoa lOvvero iriKpov oIcttov. 
 ijTOi 6 KoKov aXeicrov avaiprjaeaOai kfieWev, 
 Xpv(7eov afi^coTOV, Koi Srj jjuera xepa-w evcofia, 
 oSpa TTLOi o'lvoiO' (j>6vo<; 8e 01 ovk ivl av/xm 
 fjLep,^\eTO' tI^ k o'ioiro /J,er' avSpdai haiTVfioveacnv 
 jxovvov ivl ifKeovecrai, Koi el. fiaXa KapTepa elrj, 
 61 Tev^etv ddvarov re KaKov Kat, Krjpa /xeXaivav ; 
 Tov 8' 'OSucreii? Kara 'Xaifiov eVi.cr^Oyaej'o? ^aXev la), 
 avTiKpv 8' diroKoto St' avxevo<; rjKv6' aKaKr]. 
 eKkivOr] 8' irepcoae, Seira? Se 01 exireae x^''P°'^ 
 pkTjfjievov, avriKU 8' auXo? dva plvas; irax^'i r)X6ev 
 
 Thereupon, stripping his tatters away, many-counselled Ulysses 
 
 Strode to the threshold, and stood there, upholding his bow, and his quiver 
 
 Brim-full of shafts ; on the ground he poured forth the light-wingM arrows 
 
 All in a pile at his feet, then turned to the suitoi-s and spake this : 
 
 ' ' Yonder match has been played ; ye have seen my skill at the target : 
 
 Now I will shoot a shot that no man, I fancy, will better. 
 
 Into a different mark — if I may— and Apollo shall aid me." 
 
 Straight at Antinous then a keen-bladed arrow he levelled. 
 Grasping a golden cup stood the chief — a cup with two handles ; 
 Deep in the draught he was, no thought in his mind of destruction ! 
 How should a lord at the feast, in the midst of the banquetters, drinking, 
 Dream that, one against many — nay, though the strongest of mortals, 
 Thus could do him to death, and send him to sudden perdition ? 
 Even as he quaffed, in the jowl the shaft of OduBseus transfixed him ; 
 Right thro' the soft o' the neck the steel point travelled ; his body 
 Tottered, bent, and fell ; from his fingers the two-handled goblet 
 
HOMER. 47 
 
 ai^aTO'i dpSpOfieoiO' do5)<i S' atro elo rpaire^av 
 were TToSl ifK'q^a';, airo S' eoSara ')(eveu epa^e- 
 crtTo? T6 Kpea r ottto, <j)opvveTO- toI S' 6ixa^r)aav 
 fJ,vrj(TTrjpe<; Kara Sco/jmO', otto)? iSov avSpa irearovra, 
 SK Se Opovwv avopovaav optvdevTe^ Kara Sm/mi, 
 iravToae TraTTTawovTe? evhixrfTov^ ttotL roi')(pv<;' 
 ovSe irr) a<T'jr\<; erjv, ovS' aXKifiov e7%t/? eKkadai. 
 veiKeiov S 'OSuoTja ')^oXo3Tota'iv hreeaaiv 
 " ^elve, KaKSi<i dvSp&v ro^d^eaf ovKer dedXmv 
 aXXcov avTidcrei'!' vvv rot o-w? ahrv<; oKe9po<;. 
 Koi jap Srj vvv (pcora KaTeKravei os fiey dpicrTO<s 
 Koipwv elv 'Idd/crj- rip a ivOdSe yvire'; eBovrai." 
 
 ' ItTKev eKftCTTO? dvrjp, eirel ^ ^dcrav ovk edeKovra 
 dvSpa KaraKreivai- ro Se vrprioi ovk ivo'qaav, 
 di<; hrj cr<f)iv Kal irdiTW oKedpov irecpar i^rJTrro. 
 roixi S' dp' VTToSpa ISwv irpoaei^T] iTo\vfJir)ri<; 'OSvo'crew 
 " & Kvve<i, ov fi er i^daKeS' inrorpoirov o'oKaS' iKetrdai 
 
 Clattered ; a gush of blood burst thick and hot from his nostrils ! 
 
 Sprawling and writhing, the feet of him kicked the board and o'erset it, 
 
 Spilling the viands and wine, overturning the roast meat and boiled meat, 
 
 Mixing the cates and fruit with his blood. The suitors, aflfrighted. 
 
 Sprang from the benches on this side and that side, and ran to the dead man. 
 
 Glaring for shield or for spear along the walls of the palace : 
 
 Not one spear there was, nor sword, nor target to help them ; 
 
 Then they turned with furious words on Odusseu<!, and cursed him. 
 
 " Stranger, thou shootest too well ; but this is the last of thy shooting ! 
 
 Death shall have thee for this ! Thou hast killed with thy villanous arrow 
 
 One of the Ithaca princes, as noble and lordly as any. 
 
 Great in birth and deed : for this thing the vultures shall pick thee. " 
 
 Each of them waited, expecting the man would surely crave pardon. 
 Saying, " the arrow slipped," that " the deed was wrought maladventure. " 
 Fools, who did not feel Death's portals yawning to take them ! 
 Then with terrible eyes broke forth the wrathful Odusseus : 
 " Dogs ! ye did not think I should ever live to come hither. 
 
48 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 B^/jLov a-TTO Tpwmv, ort fidt. KareKeipere oIkov, 
 Bficoyaiv Be <yvvai^\ '7rapevvdt,e(T6e ^jateo?, 
 avTov re ^(oovro'; vTre/Mvdaade lyvvatKa, 
 oiiTe deoiii; Beiaavre^, ot ovpavov evpiiv e'xpvcruv, 
 ovre Tiv dvOpciyTTcov vefiecriv KaroinaOev eaeaOac. 
 vvv vfiiv Kol iraaiv oKedpov veipar e^TjTrrat. 
 
 '^/2? (pdro, TOW S' apa •7rdvra<; vtto -xXapov Beo<; elXev. 
 [TraTTTTjvev Be eKaa-TO<i oTry ^vyot aliriiv 6\e6pov\\ 
 EvpvfMiyo'; Be fiiv olo<; dfiet/So/jLevo'; Trpoaeenrev 
 " el fiev Br] ^OBvcreii'i ^IdaKTjawi eoKr/XovOwi, 
 ravra fiev atcrt/ia elira^i, Sera pe^ecTKOv A')(aiOi, 
 TToXXa fxev ev fieydpoiaiv aTdaGoKa, TToXXa S' eV uiypov. 
 aXX' fiev ijBr] Kelrai 01 aiTio<; eTrXero Travrmv, 
 ^AvTivoo^' ouTo? yap erriqXev raSe epya, 
 01) Ti yd/j-ov Tocraov Kex^prjfievo'i ovBe ')(aTit,u>v, 
 aXX' aXXa (ppovecov, rd 01 ovk ireKeacre KpovLwv, 
 6<^p 'IddicTj'; Kara Brjfiov ivKTifievr)'; jSaaiKevoi 
 
 Back from the city of Troy ; and so ye harried my palace, 
 Ravished my handmaids, and, I being breathing, ye dared to beset her — 
 ■ Her ! my wife, Penelope — her ! with youif impudent suings, 
 Nothing regarding the gods, who reign in infinite heaven, 
 Neither believing that any man lived who would shrewdly requite you. 
 Now for all of you — all ! — the hour is arrived of your judgment." 
 
 Sickly their visages waxed with fear as his accents resounded ; 
 Hither and thither they rolled their eyes to find any refuge ; 
 Only Eurymachus gathered his breath, and answered in this way : 
 " If, of a truth, thou art he, the Odusseus of Ithaca, living. 
 Just are thy words, and rightful thy wrath at the deeds of the princes. 
 Done vrithout shame in thy halls, and done in thy fields, without number. 
 Yet this dead man here was the head and front of the sinning : 
 He, Antinous, s^t us on to the worst of our doings ; 
 Caring not half so much for thy beauteous queen, nor to win her. 
 As that this thing might be, the which dread Zeus has forbidden, 
 Namely, to reign alone over all thine Ithacan kingdom, 
 King and Lord — having slain thy son and gotten his birthright 
 
HOMER. 
 
 49 
 
 avTO%, cLTap crov ira&a KaraKTeiveie 'Ko'^rjcra'i. 
 vvv K 6 fiev iv fioipt] -TTe^arai, crii Be ^eiBeo Tuicov 
 <tS)v arap afifie; oiriaOev dpecrad/jievoi kuto, Brjfiov, 
 baa-a toc i/cireTroTai kuI eS^Borat iv fieydpoicriv, 
 Tifirjv dfi<jn<; djovre'; eeiKocrd^oiov eicaaTO<;, 
 'XpCKKOv re ■)(pv(Tov t diroBmcro/iev, et? o Ke aov icfjp 
 lavdfj- irplv S' ov n vefJbeacrrjTov Ke')(oXS3<r6ai,." 
 
 Tov B dp mroBpa IBwv •irpoa-e<jnj TToXvfirjTK 'OBvaaeiK;- 
 " Evpvp,ax, oiiB' el fioi irarpala irdvT diroBoh-e, 
 oaaa re vvv vfj,/M ecrn, koI e'i iroQev dX)C eiridelTe, 
 ovBi K€v (S? en '^elpwi i/jid'; Xri^aifii (povoto 
 •jrpiv irdaav fivrj<TTripa<} v'7rep/3a<7ii]v aTroTicrai. 
 vvv vfilv irapdKeirai evctvTiov rje jid-^eaQai 
 7] ^evyetv, 09 Kev ddvarov koi Kripa<; dXv^rj. 
 dXkd Tiv ov (peu^ea-dai otofiai ahrvv okeOpov.'' 
 
 '^/2? (fiaTO, Toov B' avTov Xvto yovvara koi <pi%ov rJTop. 
 Tolaiv 8' EvpviJba-)(o<; '7rpoa-e(f>a)vee Bevrepov aiiTi<;- 
 
 Now he is dead for his scheme ; but do thou have mercy and spare us — 
 Liegemen of thine and submissive — then we, going home to our houses, 
 Thence will bring for whatever was eaten or drunk in thy palace 
 Each of us twenty-fold back to thee here, a great restitution, 
 lirass and gold we will fetch, and whatsoever may please thee. 
 Only be merciful now, and let not thine anger o'erwhelm us." 
 
 Him, with a look of fire, the mighty Odusseus thus answered : — 
 " Not if ye brought me, Eurymachu.s, all that ye have on the islands. 
 All that is yours to-day, and all ye may ever own after. 
 Would I for this hold back my hand from its office of death here. 
 Deed for deed I will have my price in the blood of your bodies. 
 Now, then, choose ye your way to die, and face me and fight me ; 
 Else turn about and fly from the fates that I send from my bowstring — 
 If, indeed, ye can fly — for I think my shafts will go faster." 
 
 Hearing his words, their knees grew loose and their hearts were like water. 
 Yet once more Eurymachus spake — this time to the suitors : 
 
 E 
 
CO THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 " & </>t\ot, ov yap o-x^o-et avrjp oBe %6i/)a? aaTTTOu?, 
 aX\' eVel eKKa^e to^ov iii^oov ^Se (f)apeTpr)v, 
 ovBov dvo ^ecTTOv To^daaerat., ek o Ke Trdvra'i 
 dfj,p,e KaraKTeivy dXKa fivrjadtp-eda xa/3/A7??. 
 <j)d(Tyavd re airdcra-aa-de, Koi dvTlcr')(6<T6e Tpaire^af 
 IS)V mKVjiopmv eirl S' avT^ ■7rdvTe<; excofiev 
 dOpooi, el' Ke fjiiv ovBov diraxrofiev ^Se Ovpdcov, 
 eXdcofiev S' dva darv ^of) S' wKiara yevono. 
 TO) Ke Tdy o5to? dvrjp vvv va-rara ro^aaaaiTO." 
 
 ■ '^/2t dpa <f>iov>](7a<; elpixraaro (jidayavov o^ii 
 vaKKeov, dfi(poTepa)6ev aKajQievov, aXro B eV avTO) 
 er/MepSaXea Id-^ayv 6 8' diMiprfi Bio's ^OBvxrcrevi; 
 Ibv aTTOirpoleh /SaXXe cttjj^o? irapd p.a^ov, 
 ev Be oi rpraTi irrj^e 6oov /3eXo?* eK B' dpa x^i-pof 
 (pdcryavov ^Ke ')(ana^e, irepipp^Bri^ Be rpaTre^r/ 
 KaTTireae BivrjOeh, aTTo S' eiBara '^evev epa^e 
 Ka\ Beira'i d/j,<piKy7reXKov 6 Be ')(6ova TinrTe fieTWTra) 
 
 " Friends, the man is in earnest ; he will not be stayed from his purpose, 
 But while an arrow is left he will shoot from his terrible bow there 
 Shot upon shot from the threshold, till each of us fall by his fellow, 
 Slain in a pile. Recall, then, our manhood ! Stand not to be butchered ! 
 Draw what swords we have, and hold the board up before us, ■ 
 So, with its fence, let us rush in close order upon him ! If one man 
 Thrust his way past the door, he may come to the town and call succour, 
 Then peradventure this shooter will pull his bow for the last time. " 
 
 So, as he spoke, from its scabbard Eurymachus drew forth his falchion. 
 Bronze in the blade, two-edged, and rushed with a yell to the portal. 
 Waving it high ; but right as he came the watchful Odusseus 
 Let go a whistling shaft which took him under the breast-bone. 
 Plunging barb-deep in the liver. Down out of his grasp fell the falchion, 
 Clattering he rolled in the wreck of the festival, screaming and twisting : 
 Platters and food flew about, and cups whirled hither and thither, 
 While the wretch hit this way and that his head on the pavement. 
 Mad with the anguish, and struck with his feet the boards and the benches. 
 Beating a horrid tune, till death's fog clouded his eyeballs. 
 
HOMER. 
 
 SI 
 
 QvfiSt avicApav, irom, h\ Qpovov d/x<j)OTipoicnv 
 XaKTi^tov envaacre' Kar o^OaXfiav 8' ej^wr' a^^Xu?. 
 
 AfKplvo/jbO'i S' 'OBvarjo<i eeUraTO KvSaXlfwio 
 avTLO<; ai^a<;, eipvro he ^dcryavov o^ii, 
 el 770)9 01 e'i^eie Bvpaav akX' apa fuv <f)67J 
 Trj\eiia-)(p<; KaTotnaOe ^aXmv 'xaXK^pei Sovpl 
 (ofiwv fie(7(rriyv^, Bia Be oT-^Oea-^iv eXaaaev 
 SovTrrjaev Be irecrcbv, ^(Oova S' iptMae iravrl /iertoTrp. 
 Tr]X,efia'XP<; ^' o,iropov(re, Xnraiv BoXi'^octkiov eyxo<; 
 avTov ev ' Afi<piv6fjLCj>' irepl jap Bie (irj rt? 'A'xaiwv 
 eyp^o? aveXKO'fievov Bo\i)(0(TKiov fj eXdaeiev 
 ^aayavo) ai^af rje irpoTTpfjvet tv^w^. 
 ppj Be deeiv, fidXa 8' &Ka <ptXov irarep elcra^bKavev, 
 'Ay)(ov 8' lardfievo'; eirea irTepoevra irpocrr^vBa' ^ 
 
 " 5} iraTep, tjSv toi aaKO's otcrw koX Bvo Bovpe 
 Koi Kvverjv irdyxaXKOP, eVt KpoTd^oi<; dpapvlav, 
 AvTO's T diJ,(f)i^a\evfiai lav, Bmao) Be av^anri 
 KoX ra> ^ovKoKm dXKa' Terev)(r](76ai yap dfieivov." 
 
 Tov 8' dira/iei^ofievo'; Trpocre^T; troXvfiriTti; 'OBvcro-ev^- 
 
 Next Amphinomus faced his fate, and ran at Odusseus 
 Headlong, drawing his keen-edged blade, and desperately hoping 
 If he might break his way ; but him Telemachus dealt with, 
 Striking him quick as he passed with the bronze-barbed spear in the shoulders — 
 Right through the back it drove, and out at the ribs made its passage. 
 Down with a crash he fell, full-front on the stones of the pavement : 
 Nay, and Telemachus left him so, with the spear in his shoulders, 
 Dreading lest one of the suitors, the while he tugged at the weapon. 
 Either with sword or club should find him helpless, and slay him ; 
 Therefore back to his father he came, and spoke in his ear this : 
 
 " Father, 'twere good I fetched thee shield and spears and a helmet ; 
 Armed thou shouldst be for the rest of this matter, and I, having donned it, 
 Armour will bring for the swineherd and cowherd, if thou canst abide here." 
 
 Answered him, under his breath, the watchful and tnighty Odusseus : 
 
 E 2 
 
52 
 
 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 " ot(7e Qkaiv, eiwi? /ttot ayuVvecrQai, Trap olcrroi, 
 
 jj^rj fi aTroKivrjaacTi Ovpdwv fiovvov eovra." 
 
 Od. xxii. I — 107. 
 
 " Go for them quickly, Telemachus ! while I have arrows to stop them. 
 Lest the dogs should see me in straits, and push their way past me." 
 
 Telemachus hastens to the upper apartments, and brings 
 the weapons and armour, while Ulysses shoots still into 
 the affrighted flock of princes. 
 
 avTup eirel Xlttov lot oiaTevovTa avuKTa, 
 TO^ov fiev Trpo? o'Tudfiov ivaTadio'; fieydpobo 
 eicKiv iard/Mevai,, Trpo? ivMTria irafK^avotcvTa, 
 avTO^ 8' dfifj) wfioiai aaKO^ 6eT0 TeTpa6eKvp,vov, 
 Kparl 8' 67r' lipdifiq) KvveTjv eiiTVKTOv edrjKev, 
 "inrovpiv Seivov Se Xo^o? Kadinrepdev evevev 
 eiXero S' a\Kifia Sovpe Bvco KeKopvdp,eva yoKKo.. 
 
 Od. xxii. 119 — 125. 
 
 So, when the arrows were shot — each arrow a death for the suitors — 
 Calmly he set down his bow at the porch, in the nook of the door-post ; 
 Then about his arm a shield of four thicknesses bracing. 
 Over his brows a helmet he fastened, dreadfully nodding 
 'Thwart his countenance fierce with its black plumes of horse-hair, and each 
 
 hand 
 Grasped a spear of bronze, keen-sharpened, awful to smite with. 
 
 But Telemachus has left the door of the armoury open, and 
 there is a back way by which the princes send Melanthius to 
 fetch them lances and mail. Ulysses perceives the danger 
 when some of them are already equipped ; so by his orders 
 the swineherd and cowherd go up to surprise and bind 
 Melanthius. Upon this Minerva appears in the form of 
 Mentor to encourage Ulysses, and afterwards perches upon 
 the roof in the likeness of a swallow. The suitors agree 
 
HOMER. 53 
 
 to hurl six javelins at a time against Ulysses, but Minerva 
 renders the first shower vain, and the return spears of the 
 four at the door kill four more princes. In the next 
 exchange Amphimedon indeed strikes Telemachus upon 
 the left wrist, and Ctesippus grazes the left shoulder of 
 Eumseus ; but Telemachus kills Amphimedon in return, 
 and each of the others slays his man. Hereupon abject 
 terror falls upon the guilty lords. They herd together 
 and rush about, "like cattle when the days are long and 
 hot, and the gad-fly stings," and Ulysses, with his three 
 companions, chases and dispatches them " like a hawk 
 striking fluttering birds." Two only are spared, Phemius 
 the poet, and Medon. By this time the end of the bloody 
 work is come and revenge is complete. Odusseus looks 
 round, but none are left alive to dispatch. 
 
 Tov? Se tSei' jjioiXa Travrav iv aifutTi, /cal Kovirjaiv 
 
 irerrreSiTas iroXKow, ws t l')(6va<;, ovi 6' aXfije? 
 
 KoiXov e? alr/iaXov TrdXirj^ eKToerOe daKdcra-rj<; 
 
 SiKTva e^epvaav TroKvayTrm' ol Se re Travrei 
 
 Kv/j,ad' aXo? •7rodiovTe<; eVi ■y^ajiddoicrt Kej^yvrat,' 
 
 Toav fiev T ^6\to? ^aeOmv i^elXero dv/iov. 
 
 ft)9 tot' apa fivqcTTripe'i err aXXiyXotcrt Keyfiwro. 
 
 Od. xxii. 383—389. 
 
 All, wherever he gazed, lay motionless, bloody, and dusty, 
 Tumbled together and foul ; like fish that the fisherman gathers 
 Out of the foamy sea, and hales on the brink of the shingle. 
 There' they sprawl, gills wide, heaped head and tail, and the sunshine 
 Dries them where they lie on the yellow bend of the sea-shore : 
 Just so the suitors lay, like a haul of fish, on the pavement. 
 
 The debt so long due to gods and men is paid. The 
 insulters of Penelope are no more : nothing remains but 
 
54 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 to drag the carcases away, clean the stained floor, and 
 punish the servants who had helped the princes' in their 
 outrages. This splendid and varied poem ends hereupon 
 in the recognition of Ulysses by his wife. The last book 
 seems to be an unnecessary and unsuitable sequel : the 
 dramatic construction and moral interest of the "Odyssey" 
 alike close with the faithful Penelope's words of calm and 
 proud love at line 285 of Book xxiii. What follows appears 
 to be the work of another and a weaker hand — or must be 
 taken patiently, as the last faint notes of a noble measure, 
 dying slowly away, the better to break the passage for the 
 ear from perfect music to silence. 
 
HESIOD. 
 
 Hesiod the Eolian is a classic and an antiquary, but not 
 a poet. A magnificent accident has Hnked his name 
 through all the ages with the Ionian Homer, and he 
 enjoys a kind of reflected light from the circumstance; 
 but Homer and Hesiod are not so much to be compared as 
 the sun and the moon. Standing prominent in the early 
 times of Grecian poesy, he is, of course, clarum et venerabile 
 nomen, and he has certain merits which are by no means 
 to be denied ; but the veritable afflatus is not upon his 
 spirit ; and he would not occupy a higher pedestal among 
 his compatriots, except for his ancient date, than Dr. 
 Darwin or Bloomfield among English poets. The resem- 
 blance which exists between the style of Homer and 
 Hesiod is superficial chiefly, and limited to expressions, 
 epithets, and methods which both in common borrowed 
 from the earlier minstrels. The probability is strong that 
 "the Ascrsean" lived before the singer of the Iliad and 
 Odyssey, although there was a tradition that he had con- 
 tended with Homer at Chalcis for a prize; but nothing 
 can be affirmed from the dt>ubtful data existing with 
 regard to his exact period. 
 
 He does not interest us personally like his grand 
 countryman. Bceotia, wherein he was born, was the Essex 
 of Greece, vervecum patria, a land of dull folks and heavy 
 atmospheres ; and Hesiod's verse has something about it 
 
56 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 of the fogs of Ascra. He was poet enough, nevertheless, to 
 have detested the bucolic locality, situated though it was 
 at the foot of Mount Helicon. It was miserably damp in 
 winter, and burning hot in summer; therefore nothing but 
 the business of the paternal estate kept him, he tells us, 
 at such a place. By the style in which he addresses his 
 fellow-townsmen in the " Theogony," they must have been 
 true Boeotians, naturally suitable; to the spot. He makes 
 his muses say — 
 
 Uoifieve^ arypavXoi, icaic ekep/')(ea, ryaaripe^ olov, 
 
 iBfiev -ylrevSea iroXKa \iyeiv ervfioicriv ofiota, 
 
 iBfiev B', evT ideXcofiev, aXr/dea fivOrjaaadai. 
 
 Theog. 26—28. 
 
 Hinds of the field, and mock'ries of men, living still for the belly, 
 We can tell you lies that you would take to be true things ; 
 Yea ! and things which are truly true, if we list to recount them. 
 
 But it may be that the Boeotians were better than the poet 
 makes out, and that their fault was mainly inappreciation 
 of their townsman, for there are passages which prove 
 him to have been vain to a degree— and at any rate, he 
 himself has no doubt about his own inspiration. "Three 
 celestial Muses," he says — 
 
 (TKrjTnpov ehov, Bd(pinji; ipiOrjXeo^ 6fyv, 
 
 Bpe-t^aaai OrjTjTOV ivhrvevaav Be fioi avBriv 
 
 delrjv, ft)9 Kkelotfii rd r eaaofieva irpo t iovTW 
 
 KM fie KeKovd vfivelv fiaKapcov 761/09 alev iovrtov, 
 
 a<j)d<; T avTa<; TrpStrov re Koi, iiarepov alev delBeiv. 
 
 Theog. 16. 
 
 A branch of laurel gave, which they had plucked, 
 To be my sceptre ; and they breathed a song 
 In music on my soul, and bade rae set 
 
HESIOD. 5 7 
 
 Things past and things to be to that high strain ; 
 Also they bade me sing the race of gods, 
 Themselves, at first and last, ever remembering. 
 
 However, if the Ascraeans neglected their laureate in his 
 life, they paid public honours to him afterwards. They 
 raised him a statue at Thespise, and another upon Mount 
 Helicon. They gave out that his ashes had put a stop to 
 a pestilence in Orchomenus, when they were transported 
 there, and pilgrims used to go to visit his tomb in this 
 place. Thus Hesiod was well reputed with posterity, if not 
 amid his especial public. What else we know of him is 
 little, and it is not even certain whether he died by vio- 
 lence, as was always believed. He had a younger brother 
 named Parses, to whom he addresses his "Works and 
 Days," and who seems to have been a somewhat trouble- 
 some relation. Add to this dearth of personal interest, 
 that the religious part of Hesiod's writings is either drj, 
 catalogue or unrelieved superstition, while the didactic 
 section of them seems practical and shrewd rather than 
 elevated ; and it becomes natural that Hesiod bears no 
 commanding presence in Grecian literature like the great 
 Ionian generally coupled with him. He presents himself 
 to the fancy of a modern student as a grave and quiet 
 composer of very respectable versicles — with a sacerdotal 
 mind, marked by agricultural tastes and tendencies ; never 
 exactly "inspired," but not wanting a certain skilfulness of 
 speech occasionally, and power of expression, combined 
 with a strong rural substantiality of thought, which unite 
 to make the little that remains of him a portion of the 
 roll of song that the student, and especially the historic 
 
58 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 Student, cannot neglect. He has no flights of imagination; 
 his language, crasso sub aere nata, displays the Ascrsean 
 air of heaviness about it ; and he shows very little poetic 
 art in the composition of his paragraphs — unless, indeed, 
 time has done him much more wrong than we know, 
 and broken up. his labour into fragments. He never 
 carries the mind along like the wave of Homer's line, 
 crested with its sparkling epithets ; we follow him, rather, 
 slowly and tediously, as if his verse were a ploughshare, 
 turning up the fat clay of Bceotia. 
 
 Once or twice only — if, indeed, these passages be his — 
 we come upon spirited descriptions, as, for example, the 
 war of the Titans in the " Theogony," and it must be 
 allowed that such exhibit a vigour of outline and strong 
 trick of colour, recalling, in another field of art, the broad 
 manner of the Dutch painters, who also gave themselves, 
 like Hesiod, impartially to boors and theology. But he 
 is essentially a moralist and adviser-general, and may 
 perhaps be regarded as the inventor of the didactic fable — 
 at any rate, as regards Greece. He introduces his poetic 
 apologues in an abrupt manner, wherever and whenever 
 they strike him. The subjoined is suddenly interpolated 
 into the " Works and Days " after such a fashion, and 
 gives a fair idea of the rather melancholy and unexalted 
 morality of the poet : — 
 
 5iS iprj^ wpo^eei/irev drjBova 7roi.Kt\6Setpov, 
 i5i|ft /LtaV ev ve^eecrcri <f)ipa)v bw^eacri, /ie/xapTTfUf 
 r] S' iXeov, jva/MiTTolcn Treirapfievr] afj,^^ ovvyeaai, 
 fivpeTo- rrjv S' 07' ewLKpan-ew^ Trpbt p,v6ov eeiire- 
 
HESIOD. 59 
 
 AaifwyLri, tL XeXTjKat; ; e^j^et vv ere iroWov dpeimv 
 Ttj eZ? y <T av h/a> irep dja, Koi aoiSbv eovaav 
 oeiTTVov S', ai k iOeXai, iroii^aofuu,, rje fieO'^ao}. 
 acppcov B' o? K eOkXri ■trpos Kpei<Taova<s avTKpepl^eiv. 
 viKrj<} T6 (TTeperai tTjOO? t' a'icryea-iv ahr/ea Tratr^et. 
 
 Works and Days, 201 — 209. 
 
 Once a hawk said this to a nightingale ; — 
 
 The robber had the singer in his claws, 
 
 High up among the clouds, and Philomel, 
 
 Trembling, and nipped in those sharp crooked talons, 
 
 Bewailed ; whereat the hawk savagely screamed : 
 
 " Why pipe, my friend ? I am too strong to heed ; 
 
 I take you where I will, for all your singing ; 
 
 To eat you if I like, or let you go ; 
 
 And he's a fool that fights against his fate. 
 
 He loses, and gets shame, beside his tears. " 
 
 The poem of the " Works and Days " begins with a 
 brief litany to Zeus, strongly reminding the oriental scholar 
 of the religious preface to all Sanskrit hymns and writings. 
 Then Hesiod favours his brother with a dissertation on 
 good and evil rivalries, and seeks to impress upon him the 
 duties of industry and probity. He describes the suc- 
 cessive ages of the human race — the gold, the silver, the 
 brazen, and the iron age — that ever comfortless "now," in 
 which such weather as the abominable fogs of Ascra, 
 and such folks as the Boeotians, were so much as possible. 
 Amid these ill times and hard societies he counsels 
 prudence to the feeble, but warns the strong that " there 
 are gods." He teaches, not without emphasis and faith, 
 that " it is measured to each as each metes," and his 
 idea of an avenging Providence is even stricter than 
 the Mosaic doctrine. " A whole town," he declares, " is 
 
60 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 often punished because there is one wicked man in it." 
 " Thirty thousand watchful angels," Hesiod declares, are 
 detailed to observe the deeds of men in authority : and 
 Justice, he boldly and nobly proclaims, has her place in 
 heaven " beside the right hand of Zeus himself." A very 
 striking passage, and one which will recall the parallel 
 teaching in the New Testament, is subjoined : — 
 
 Tr]V jjiev Toi KaKOTTjTa Koi iXaBbv ecrnv eXeadai 
 
 prjlSio}';' XelT) jxev oSo?, fiaXa 8' iyyvdl valet. 
 
 Trj<; 8' apeT7J<; iSpaiTa Oeol Trpoirdpoidev eOrjicav 
 
 aOdvarof iJ.aKpo<i Se /cat 6p0i,o<; oifio'i eir avrrjv 
 
 Kol TpTj'vii'; TO irpwTOV iirfjv 8' eh aKpov Mrjai, 
 
 pTjiSuT) Br) eirei/ra TreXei, j^aXeiTT) irep iovcra. 
 
 Works and Days, 286. 
 
 Evil is manifold and quickly reached ; 
 Smooth is the road thereto, and nigh the way ; 
 But the high gods do make us sweat for Good ; 
 Strait is the gate to that, and long the road, 
 And steep at first — but when the top is won, 
 All then is easy that was hard before. 
 
 After much of this not unworthy moral teaching — pro- 
 longed till about the middle of the poem — Hesiod proceeds 
 to descant upon agricultural works, and the days of good 
 and ill luck in the rural calendar. Here his love of nature 
 comes forth, and whatever the Royal Society might think 
 of his farming, he paints with the eye of a landscape artist 
 the rude winters of the Bceotian mountains, the green 
 Greek spring, and again the joyous time of harvest — 
 
 ''Hfio<s Se aKoXvfio'; t dvdei, Kal rf)(kTa rexTt^ 
 SevSpio) e(j)e^6fievo<; Xi/yvprjv eTTCxeveT doiBrjv 
 
HESIOD. 6 1 
 
 irvKvov VTTO TTTepvyoiv, Oepeo'i KafiaroaBeot; wprj, 
 TTj/io? TnoTarai t alj6<; koX olvo<; apia-TO<;. 
 
 Works and Days, 580—583. 
 
 When worts are yellow, and the grasshopper 
 Sings his shrill song upon the tree — his wings 
 Quick beating — in the toilsome summer-time, 
 When goats are fullest, and the wine is best. 
 
 Then, although he confesses himself no sailor, Hesiod 
 proceeds to dilate on maritime commerce, the choice of 
 a good craft, and the seasons favourable to navigation. 
 Afterwards he falls into a very remarkable vein of didactic 
 maxims, some of which are more practical than elegant 
 in their character, but all very well intended, and fur- 
 nishing a perfect code of etiquette for a Boeotian gentle- 
 man, such as was Perses. The poem — if certain graceful 
 snatches of music in it can earn for it this title — ends with 
 a very bare and dry enumeration of lucky and unlucky 
 days for rural and domestic pursuits, a kind of " Ascraean 
 Tenant- Farmer's Almanack," probably the oldest specimen 
 of the sort extant. It will be seen that there is not 
 much connection between the various divisions of the 
 composition, and those who have never made a study 
 of the " Works and Days " in the original may be disap- 
 pointed to find a rnighty classic described as so jejune. 
 But such is Hesiod, although he must not be refused 
 a sincere tribute for his moral teaching, which is well- 
 meaning and pure, albeit melancholy in tone and sombre 
 with superstition ; and he has, indeed, left in this rather 
 disjointed little literary monument, "tricks of a master's 
 touch," vigorous bits of Boeotian simplicity and quiet 
 
62 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 pastoral feeling, which have sufficed to keep it existing 
 and even celebrated. 
 
 His " Theogony " — a higher work in scheme — is not so 
 free from interpolations ; and the side notes of grammarians 
 and commentators have been obviously worked into the 
 text. One even finds stray lines and passages of Homer 
 inlaid with the Hesiodic material ; and it is probable 
 that neither the introduction nor the disconnected finish 
 of this poem are by the same hand which wrought the 
 central and genuine portion. Only the antiquarian, or 
 the resolute student of Greek for its mythological and 
 ethnological treasures, could pretend to speak of the " Theo- 
 gony'' as a whole with any enthusiasm. The prefatory 
 lines to the Muses are perhaps in the best manner of 
 the old poet. After that exordium the main part of the 
 hexameters creak and groan along, like over-laden wagons 
 on the dusty roads of Ascra, burdened with the names 
 and attributes of gods and goddesses, nymphs, nereids, 
 dryads, and hamadryads, till the poet disappears entirely, 
 and nothing is left of him except a catalogue-maker. He 
 repeats— and perhaps did very much to crystallise into 
 a faith such mythological tales of the deities— the quarrel 
 of Uranus and his children ; how Saturn mutilated his 
 father and devoured his own offspring; how Rhea saved 
 Jupiter, and how Jupiter, with the aid of the Titans, 
 deposed Saturn — in fact, all that strange labyrinth of 
 celestial fable, which must have made Greek orthodoxy 
 far more forbidding as a subject for examination at Delphi 
 or Elis than even our own Athanasian theology in the 
 Divinity Schools at Oxford or Cambridge. The poet 
 
HESIOD. 63 
 
 dwells most of all upon this mythic battle between the 
 elder and younger gods and Titans. Here he truly rises 
 to something like Miltonic fervour of description ; and 
 his god? — who, to tell the truth, are generally very 
 earthly deities in attribute and tone — become grand and 
 solemn by the vastness of the field of battle, the terror 
 of its weapons, the awfulness of the shock of Earth with 
 Heaven, and the picturesque nature of the combatants. 
 The language is remarkably sonorous, and the images 
 imposing, when Jupiter makes his great onset. 
 
 ovo ap ert iieii? i'<^X^ ^"^ fievo<;' aXKa vv rovye 
 
 eWap fiev fieveo<; TrXrjvTO Spivs'!, Sk Be re "Tracrav 
 
 (f>aLve /Sw/v a/^iuSt? S' ap" air oiipavov rjS air 'OXv/mttov 
 
 currpoKTosv ecrTeiye (rvvoy^aBov ol Be Kepavvol 
 
 iKTap afia ^povry re xal aoTepoTrfj -jroreovTO 
 
 veipcx; atro (rTi^apri<;, leprjv (})X6ja etkv^owvre^ 
 
 Tap(f>ee<;, afi^l Be yala cj}epea-^io^ icriuipcuyi^ev 
 
 Kaiofievr], XaKe B' dficju trvpl fiejdlC acrTrero? vXr], 
 
 e^ee Be ■ydoov irdcra icaX 'Sl/ceavolo piedpa, 
 
 TTOVTO^ S' dTpvyeTO<;' rov<; B' dfi^eire Oepfio'i dOrfifj 
 
 Then Zeus let loose his wrath ! his awful heart, 
 Briihfull of anger, gave his will its way ! 
 From Heaven's vault and high Ol3rmpus' crags 
 Impetuous he bade start the leashed-up fires : 
 Lightning and thunder and the thunderbolts 
 Flew from his mighty hand — flame with the crash, 
 And bolts with both — fire, noise, and bolts all mixed ! 
 Groaned fruitful Mother Earth, wrapped in the war ; 
 All her vast forests crackled, lightning-scorched ; 
 The parched fields heaved and split ; the ocean-floods 
 Bubbled, with all the streams, and lurid smoke 
 Curled round the Titans fighting — whence the glare 
 Blazed up across and through the infinite air ; 
 
64 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 TiTrjvwi ')(6ovLov<i, (j)\6^ S' r}epa Blav iKavev 
 ao-Trero?, ocrcre B' afiepBe koX l<pOifia)v irep eovrwv 
 
 aiiyr] /Mip/jbaipovaa Kepavvov re arepoTrrj^ re. 
 
 Theog. 687—699. 
 So that those warrior-ranks, albeit lilie gods, 
 Were blinded with the dazzle of the flash, 
 And deaf with leaping peals. 
 
 Hesiod is here almost Homeric^ and the description con- 
 tinues in the same sustained splendour of terror and 
 trouble, concluding thus with the imprisonment of the 
 giants : — 
 
 X0TT09 re Bpidpeeo'i re rvrj^ r daTO<; TroXifioio. 
 o" pa rpirjKocrca'; Trer/sa? crri^aprnv airo yeipwv 
 Tre/j/TTov eiraacrvTepa'i, Kara K icxKLaaav ^ekeeaai 
 Tvrrjva';' Kai tov; fiev vtto 'y6ovo<i evpvoBei'rj'i 
 ■Trififfrav KM, hecTfioiaiv iv apyaXeoiaiv eBrjaav, 
 viKrjaaine'; ^(epalv inrep6v/Mov<i irep iovTa'i, 
 Toaaov evepB' inro y'Pj<i, ocrov ovpav6<; iar aTro 70.1779 
 evvea yap vvKTa<; re ical rjiiara y(aX,Keo<i aK/j,a>v 
 ovpavodev KaTimv BeKaTy e? <yaiav 'movto' 
 evvea h av vvKTa^i re Kai rj/jLara '^aXKeo<; aKficov 
 eK yaiTji; Karmv BeKOTT) e? Tdprapov iKoi. 
 
 Theog. 714—724. 
 Cottus, Briareus, and Gyes strong 
 Gluttons of war, let fly a hail of rocks. 
 Three hundred thick, from their enormous hands. 
 And 'whelmed the Titans with a cloud of spears. 
 Then imderneath the earth they drove the crew. 
 And caged them there, and loaded them with chains 
 Ponderous and pitiless, for all their might. 
 As deep their dungeon was below the earth 
 As heaven is above ; nine days and nights 
 A brazen anvil falling from the sky 
 Would need to reach the ground, and then nine more 
 Would bring it the tenth morn to Tartarus. 
 
HESIOD. 65 
 
 A noticeable point about the ^olian bard is his 
 misogynism. He was no " Frauenlob," as the best poets 
 have been; no eulogist and defender of noble and good 
 ladies. It is true that he tells Perses, in the " Works and 
 Days," how nothing is better than a good woman ; but 
 then his very praise, like lago's, has this reservation, "if 
 ever such wight were;" and in the subjoined account of 
 the creation of the Greek Eve, Pandora, his last line is 
 very ungallant : — 
 
 */2? e^aff' 01 B' hridovTO Aii, Kpovicovi avaicri. 
 avTiKa S iic 'yaiT]'; ifkdarcre kKvto^ ' Afji,<f>ijvi^ei<i 
 [Trapdivp alBoirj 'iKeKov, KpovlBeeo Bia /SouXa?" 
 afji,(j)l Se ol XdpiTe<; re deal koL irorvta Ueida) 
 opfiov<; j(pv<7eiov<} eOecrav xpot' aficftl Be Trjvye 
 ^flpat KaWlicofj.01 aTe(J30v avOeaiv elapvvolaf 
 iravTa Be oi %jOoi' koct/jlov iipijpfioae UaXXa'i 'Adrjvr). 
 ev B' apa ol arridea-a-t BiaKTopo^ 'Apyei^ovTrji; 
 iJrevSed ff aifivKiovi re X67011S Kol hrUXoTTOv rjdo<; 
 rev^e Aui<; ^ovXfjcn ^apvKTinrov ev S' apa (fxovrjv 
 OrJKe OeSiV Krjpv^' 6v6fir)ve Be Tj^vSe <yvvalKa 
 
 He spake, and all obeyed the king of gods : 
 
 And straight from clay the lame Hephaistus thumbed 
 
 A figure beautiful and virginal. 
 
 The Graces three and soft Persuasion hung 
 
 Chains of wrought gold upon her lovely skin ; 
 
 The fair-haired Hours adorned her brow with flowers 
 
 Plucked from the spring ; Pallas Athene brought 
 
 A pleasing majesty to all her form, 
 
 And wily Hermes, Heaven's quick messenger, 
 
 Filled her heart full with all his deep deceits, 
 
 With subtlest ways and cunning stratagems. 
 
 So Hermes did, obedient ; and he gave 
 
 A voice sweet-toned ; and thus the first of Shes 
 
 F 
 
66 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 IlavStofyqv, on irdvTe'i ^OXv/xiria Sco/utT e^ovTe<i 
 
 BS)pov iSojpria-av, Trfjfi avhpdcnv aXi^cTTyaiv. 
 
 Works and Days, 69—81. 
 
 Was called " the gift of all," for all had given, 
 And her they sent to be a plague to man. 
 
 But to return to the " Theogony " and the poet's more 
 elevated themes. After the celestial battle the piece 
 subsides again, through a series of mythical genealogies 
 and anecdotes of Olympian annals, to the instances of 
 goddesses who have given birth to mortals, and of mortal 
 women who have been loved by immortals. There is 
 not much of the lively and bright Greek belief in the 
 contact of Heaven and Earth about all these enumera- 
 tions of the heavenly personages. Hesiod writes like 
 a priest rather than a poet ; and polytheism was still 
 a creed, in his days, upon which the glorious genius of 
 Athenian art had not yet stamped deep the beauty of 
 the Anadyomene, the majesty of the Pallas of Phidias, 
 the sylvan mystery of Pan's cloven feet and wreathed 
 horns. There is an emptiness about it all, and a sense 
 of insufficiency; — a melancholy and un-Greek-like tone — 
 notably those lines upon Sleep and Death. 
 
 tS)v erepa fiev jfjv re koI eiipea vcoTa dakda-arj'? 
 
 ^au^o^ avarpi^erai Koi fielXi'^o^ avdpdyTroicn, 
 
 Tov 5e aoSrjper) fiev KpaSir), yoKKeov Si ol fjTop 
 
 vniKeh ev a-TTjdea-aiv 'ij^ei S' t)v TrpojTa Xd^rjaiv 
 
 dvOparTTcov e)(6po<i Be koX adavarolcn deoLcnv. 
 
 Theog. 762 — 766. 
 
 Of whom the one soothes all the earth, and calms 
 The brdad back of the sea ; gentle to men : 
 
HESJOD. fj 
 
 « 
 
 The other has a heart of steel — a breast 
 Brazen and pitiless, and clutches all. 
 Hateful to men and to th' immortal gods. 
 
 A later age of Hellenic thought mocked these poor 
 " immortal " Gods who died ; laughed at the mysteiy of 
 death with Socrates ; and twisted garlands of smiling 
 flowers about the funeral urn : but the blossoms of that 
 bright unbelief were not blown in Hesiod's time and town. 
 There remains to be noticed a probably spurious poem, 
 called the " Shield of Hercules." It is a torso, not with- 
 out dignity and good work, but hardly from the Hesiodic 
 chisel. In the middle of the combat of Hercules with 
 Cycnus, son of Mars — abruptly commenced — begins, yet 
 more abruptly, the description of the shield which the 
 son of Alcmena carried. Hesiod would not have spent 
 so much time upon the piece in continuation of his 
 narrative of 'JTotat, or Heroines ; and unless he plagiarised 
 from himself, the poem can hardly be his, for there are 
 verses of the " Works and Days " inserted bodily, and 
 many expressions intercalated from the same source. 
 The description of the shield is, at the same time, too 
 ample and careful for an episode ; it must have made part 
 of a special poem, of which we have only the moiety. 
 Some Rhapsodist, perhaps, composed it, with Homer's 
 picture of the shield of Achilles in his mind ; for the 
 language is Homeric, and some of the turns of verse 
 identical with the great Ionian's. Assuredly the " Shield 
 of Hercules " was chased by no mean hand ; no slight 
 artist beat up the repousse-work of this poetic buckler. 
 
 The two hundred hexameters which paint it for us have 
 
 F 2 
 
68 ■ THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 energy, movement, and music ; but the nameless poet who 
 wrote it, or pieced it together, has lost his spray of laurel ; 
 while Hesiod has gained that honour, as well as the credit 
 for many other ancient poems quite lost now, or else frag- 
 mentary, like the " Lessons of Chiron," " The Melampodia," 
 "The Marriage of Ceyx,'' and "The Descent of Theseus 
 and Pirithous into Hades." In fact, the name of Hesiod 
 was long a centre of gravity for the stray asteroids of poesy 
 in his age, especially throughout Boeotia; and he is thus 
 a literary accretion, in regard of which we cannot always 
 tell what is fly and what is amber. His own countrymen 
 in Pausanias' time doubted whether even the " Theogony " 
 belonged to him. In so cold and foggy an atmosphere 
 of scepticism, uncomfortable as Hesiod has told us that 
 of Ascra was ; it is reassuring to be tolerably certain 
 that the "Works and Days," with their homely wisdom 
 and pastoral sincerity, are the .^olian poet's ; and to 
 agree that, for the sake of that alone, he will ever deserve 
 to wear the myrtles gathered from the majestic Helicon 
 which overshadowed his home. 
 
THE HOMERIC HYMNS. 
 
 In these ancient and often beautiful fragments of Greek 
 poetry we have doubtless many that are as old as the 
 " Iliad " and " Odyssey," and others which were probably 
 inspired long afterwards by the spirit of Homer, and 
 composed by the most skilful of the Rhapsodists. Some 
 of the shorter poems of the group known by this name 
 may have been portions of lost epic pieces — the prefatory 
 dedication common to all antique verse-making. Others 
 are per se important and self-sufficient works, of con- 
 siderable length and constructive art ; complete in them- 
 selves, as mythological litanies in honour of some one or 
 other deity. The fact that Thucydides ascribes to Homer 
 himself the " Hymn to the Delian Apollo " shows, indeed, 
 that the golden age of Greece was nowise so critical as 
 ours, and also that the style of these poems is by no means 
 low. These hymns are of a comparatively modern date 
 in Grecian literature whenever we find them perfect ; and 
 in some cases appear to be new crystallisations of verse 
 around old poetic remains. In the Hymn to the Delian 
 Apollo, Homer, truly, is made to call himself its author 
 — but this is probably the artifice of an unknown writer. 
 The opening of the hymn is wanting; but it proceeds, 
 after an invocation of Latona and her son, to describe 
 how Delos gave shelter to the goddess, and how Apollo 
 was born at the foot of a palm-tree ; and then it paints a 
 
70 
 
 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 fine Poussin-like picture of the feasts of the worshippers 
 of the Sun God. The '' Hymn to the Pythian Apollo " 
 is probably older than this, and celebrates the Deity of 
 the valley of Crissa. It relates how the God of Day 
 descended from Olympus to find a spot in Greece for 
 his temple ; and how Telphusa, the Boeotian Naiad, recom- 
 mended him to repair to Crissa. This she did, knowing , 
 that a great serpent ravaged the lands there, and wishing 
 ill to the god. Apollo killed the monster, and built a 
 temple among the rocks ; but to punish the perfidious 
 maiden he made the waters of her fountain disappear. 
 Such is the matter of this hymn — the manner has nothing 
 to deserve particular attention ; it is smooth and skilful, 
 a neatly written liturgy of a very old church. 
 
 The " Hymn to Venus " may have been composed, as 
 is thought, as late as the Messenian war, to flatter some 
 of the princes of Mount Ida, who called themselves 
 descendants of .^Eneas ; but the supposition is far-fetched. 
 What remains of it seems to have belonged to a series 
 of sacred poems, the work of the Homeric imitators and 
 reciters. It relates the loves of Aphrodite and the Trojan 
 Anchises. The Goddess of Love appears to the happy 
 hero upon Mount Ida under the form of a Phrygian 
 princess. At her leave-taking she reveals herself, and 
 tells Anchises that she shall bear a son to him, but he 
 must never divulge its mysterious origin, under pain 
 of the wrath of Jupiter. This piece of heathendom is 
 extremely lively and easy in its versification, but not 
 otherwise remarkable. 
 
 A far more valuable relic is the " Hymn to Ceres " — if, 
 
THE HOMERIC HFMA'S. 7 I 
 
 indeed, the work be veritably antique — which Ruhnkenius, 
 the philologist, dug up from the rubbish of oblivion. The 
 lacuna in it, as well as its style and nature, compel the 
 conclusion that it is genuine. It is a religious poem 
 devoted to that profoundest of all the Grecian cults, 
 the worship of Ceres or Demeter, "Mother Earth." The 
 writer was probably initiated into the Eleusinian mysteries, 
 although he dared not write of them exoterically. His 
 nearly perfect litany celebrates the glories of the fane at 
 Eleusis — it praises the wisdom of the initiated, and urges 
 the acquisition of philosophic and spiritual knowledge, 
 while it narrates the mystical tale of Ceres. It is here 
 sung how she lost her daughter Proserpine, and refused 
 the gifts of corn and grass to men, till Zeus gave her 
 back her child ; with licence to stay half of each year 
 beside her mother, and 'then to return for the other half 
 to her dreary spouse, the Lord of Hell. This legend, 
 deeply engrafted in the East, and shadowing forth the 
 changes of the year from summer with its flowers to bare 
 winter, and from winter again to summer, is told with 
 poetic grace and enthusiasm. To any ear it must have 
 sounded sweetly — to those of the initiated at Eleusis every 
 line probably bore a delicate and transcendental meaning. 
 Whoever will see one of these curious liturgical pieces 
 translated to the very best advantage should read the 
 exquisite " Hymn to Mercury," by Shelley. The Greek 
 is very bright and graceful, and loses nothing whatever in 
 the delicious Spenserian stanza, except its form. Indeed, 
 the only fault of such verses as the following is that they 
 are a little too rich : — 
 
72 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 To whom thus Hermes slily answered ; " Son 
 Of great Latona, what a speech is this ! 
 Why come you here to ask me what is done 
 With the wild oxen which it seems you miss ? 
 I have not seen them ; nor from any one 
 Have lieard a word of the whole business. 
 If you should promise an immense reward, 
 I could not teH more than you now have heard. 
 
 " An ox-stealer should be both tall and strong ; 
 
 And I am but a little new-born thing, 
 
 Who, yet at least, can think of nothing wrong. 
 
 My business is to suck, and sleep, and fling 
 
 The cradle-clothes about me all day long ; 
 
 Or, half asleep, hear my sweet mother sing, 
 
 And to be washed in water clean and warm, 
 
 And hushed and kissed, and kept secure from harm. 
 
 "Oh, let not e'er this quarrel be averred ! 
 
 The astounded gods would laugh at you if e'er 
 
 You should allege a story so absurd. 
 
 As that a new-born infant forth could fare 
 
 Out of his home after a savage herd. 
 
 I was born yesterday ; my small feet are 
 
 Too tender for the roads so hard and rough ; 
 
 And will you think that this is not enough ? 
 
THE CYCLIC POETS. 
 
 This name was given to a group of mediocre imitators of 
 Homer, who wrote upon the episodes of the Trojan war : 
 some of them in admiration, some in jealousy of the 
 great Ionian — one or two, it may be, with grace and skill 
 sufficient to get a place for a bar or so of their work amid 
 the immortal music of the " blind old man." There were 
 also other " Cyclic poems," reflecting the style of Hesiod, 
 and all beginning, like one of the old Spanish tragedies, with 
 the creation of the world. Such as they were, these pro- 
 ductions are lost, but the world is probably not Very much 
 the poorer. They were never called classical by the critics 
 of the golden age of Greece ; and Horace, who lived near 
 enough to the writers to have seen them on parchment or 
 papyri, selects from one of them his example of utterly 
 bad taste and literary bombast. Perhaps he was alluding 
 to Stasinus when he remarks that, "to relate the wrath 
 of Achilles, Homer does not remount to the eggs of Leda." 
 Stasinus, one of these Cyclic minstrels, was said, however, 
 to have received the copy of his " Cyprian Songs " from 
 Homer himself He narrated the incidents preceding the 
 Trojan war from the birth of Helen downwards. According 
 to this writer, Zeus caused the Trojan war to arise out of 
 pity for the earth, which was overloaded with inhabitants. 
 Judging from the conduct of kings and aristocracies in all 
 history, this view is far from unparalleled or devilish. But 
 
74 
 
 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 Stasinus never learned such a theory from the noble intellect 
 and heart of Homer. Arctinus was another improver or 
 legatee of Homer. He carried on the " Iliad " haud passibus 
 cequis, in a poem entitled the " Ethiopiad," a work old 
 enough to be also ascribed, by uncritical tradition, to 
 Homer. It commences with the arrival of the Amazons 
 before Troy, after the obsequies of Hector. The writer de- 
 scribes the deaths of Memnon and of Achilles, the stratagem 
 of the wooden horse, and the capture of Ilion^and doubt- 
 less from such sources the " ^neid " of Virgil and the many 
 sequels of the " Tale of Troy " were largely drawn. There 
 were nine thousand lines in the " Ethiopiad," but almost all 
 are gone, node premuntur ; and the scholiast who pre- 
 serves us a fragment of the perished mass calls it " The 
 Sack of Ilium," by a wrong title. Another Cyclic, called 
 Lesches, wrote or patched together a " Little Iliad." Aris- 
 totle quotes it as a rude and undigested mass of matter, 
 and what remains of this Lesbian shows that he was 
 but a mere chronicler in rhyme of old Grecian traditions. 
 "The Homeward Voyages" of Agias, with the "Telegonid" 
 of EuGAMON, are two other Cyclic poems, of no greater 
 artistic value ; although they would have immense archae- 
 ological interest, could we recover them, as relics in verse of 
 very ancient fables. The first relates the return of Atrides 
 and other chiefs ; the second is the complement of the 
 " Odyssey." It recounts the adventures of Telegonus, 
 the son of Ulysses and Circe ; how he wandered over the 
 earth seeking out his father, to wreak upon him the spite 
 of the Enchantress; how he landed at last upon Ithaca, 
 and took to highway robbery for his living ; till in one of 
 
THE CYCLIC POETS. 75 
 
 his encounters he waylays Ulysses and kills him unknow- 
 ingly. The " Thebaid " and the " Heracleid " are names 
 of antique works, pertaining to this same period of the 
 Rhapsodists and Cyclics, who sprang as thickly from 
 the great stem of Homer, as saplings do from an oak. The 
 first was occupied with the wars of Thebes ; of the second, 
 called also "The Taking of CEchalia," but one line remains. 
 The " Phoronid," the " Europsea," and the " Corinthiaci," 
 are titles of works wholly lost ; and to complete this list of 
 faded human labour and forgotten singing, ChersIAS of 
 Orchomenus, and Arias of Tamos, were also Cyclic poets, 
 of whom positively not so much as the author's signature 
 survives. Stant nominum, umbrae ; their very names are 
 blotted. 
 
THE ELEGIAC POETS. 
 
 The hexameter was the metre of the epical poems of 
 Greece — but Poesy now stretched her wings wider, and 
 invented the Elegiac measure. The etymology of the 
 word, and a certain plaintive fall which the pentameter 
 has in succeeding the hexameter, have attached a definite 
 tradition of sadness to the couplet thus composed. "EXe- 
 709 is derived from the verb of woe, 'ekiyeiv, or the word 
 6\609, " pity." And perhaps the first use of this mixed 
 metre was to enshrine a funeral song — the checked and 
 broken utterance of mourning. The beautiful wailing 
 chants of Corsica have the same musical sob in them, 
 the same slow burial-pace. But if the original Elegiac 
 of Greece bore this character, it soon became enlarged. 
 The hexameter and pentameter together was virtually 
 made to serve for the step from epical to lyrical singing ; 
 and the most ancient relics of this second measure of 
 Greek poesy are devoted as much to light or stirring 
 themes as to sad and solemn ones. Some of the elegiac 
 poets of the mid-age of Hellas are satirical, some martial 
 and patriotic. Let two of these last appear ! 
 
CALLINUS. 
 
 Callinus of Ephesus lived about seven hundred years 
 before the Christian era. The particular city of Ionia in 
 which he resided was much threatened by the martial 
 people of the north, who had destroyed Magnesia and other 
 places, and hung like a storm-cloud over the effeminate 
 Greeks of the coast. The neighbouring lands had already 
 been overrun when Callinus took up his lyre ; the lonians 
 were in danger, and the Ephesian poet appears to have 
 devoted his undoubted genius to the task of animating 
 and reproving his degenerate countrymen. His verses 
 are full of an energetic and manly spirit, and descant 
 upon the miseries of cowardice, the value and joy of 
 courage, and the bounden duty of fighting for country, 
 kindred, and honour. Here is a specimen of the strong 
 and gallant strain of the Ionian : — 
 
 Tififjev re yap ian ical ar/Kaov avBpl fid-^eaOai 
 yfji; irepi Kol TratSwi' KovpiBirif r dXo'^ov 
 
 Sv<;/Ji£vea-iv. Odvaroi; Be tot eWerat, OTriroTe kev Br] 
 Molpac hnKKoxyoiiT . oKKa ti<s idv<; tVo) 
 
 Fair and becoming it is for a man 
 
 To fight for home and children and wife ; 
 And death, that comes when the Fates please, can 
 
 Come never but once. To the glorious strife 
 
78 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 e<yxp<} ava(Tj(p)ievo<; koL inr affTr/So? aXKifiov rjTop 
 
 €\aa<; to irpwTOV fivyvvfieuov iroXirjov. 
 oi yap 7r&)9 ddvaTov ye (ptryeiv eifiapfievov iarlv 
 
 avSp" oiiB' el irpoyovcov y yevo<i adavcLTtov. 
 
 Let each, then, go with a heart of brass, 
 As hard as the blade that his fingers draw ! 
 
 Die well ! for die we must, alas, 
 
 Though the gods were our fathers. 'Tis Heaven's law ! 
 
 We do not know what effect the verses of Callinus had 
 upon the soft Ephesians. They were good enough to 
 have put spirit into sensualists or slaves. 
 
TYRT^US. 
 
 This was another and a still more famous singer of warlike 
 lays, the contemporary of Callinus, and an Ionian. His 
 martial muse found her theme in the events of the 
 Messenian war, which was waged from 685 B.C. to 668. 
 The outbreak of this conflict found him at Athens, and 
 it is said that he came to take part in it, from a very 
 singular incident. The Spartans, who were fighting with 
 the Messenians, were advised by the oracle to seek a 
 leader from Athens. The " city of the violet-crown " sent 
 them in derision the obscure Tyrtseus, who was a school- 
 master, and lame of one leg. But if it were so, the oracle 
 and the Spartans had the best of the jest, for Tyrtaeus 
 turned out a hero of the first water, and his spirited 
 verses were worth whole battalions of peltasts to Lace- 
 daemon. All this may signify something very different 
 from the tradition. Tyrtsus was more likely a " master '' 
 of a school of philosophy, politics, and poetry, than a 
 mere pedagogue; and the story of his lameness may 
 possibly — though, perhaps, not very probably — have arisen 
 from the fact that he wrote the elegiac, or "halting" 
 verse, which limps from hexameter to pentameter, and 
 was new at this date to continental Greece. Tyrtaeus, at 
 any rate, came to Sparta, and rendered noble services to 
 his adopted country. If it be true, as is reported, that 
 he calmed popular riots with his poetic writings, Plato 
 
80 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 ought to blush in that he has excluded poets from the 
 model republic. Unluckily, nothing remains of a labour 
 so remarkable, and so desirable for certain modern go- 
 vernments. What remains to us of Tyrtaeus is but little, 
 yet that little is full of martial incentives and the praise 
 of patriotism and courage. Even from these fragments 
 we must conclude that the bard well deserved the laurels 
 which surround his brow in all classical pages. Ionian 
 by birth, the character of his genius was rather Dorian — 
 Dorian in its stern eulogy of fortitude, its austere con- 
 tempt of pleasure and selfishness, its fear of shame, its 
 defiance of death. Here are four clarion-like lines in 
 praise of the brave soldier : — 
 
 owSpdai fiev 6rp]T0<i IBeiv, 6paT0<; Se 'yvvai^l 
 f(Bo? ea>v, KoXo^ S' iv Trpofia^oiat nream). 
 
 alChM Tt5 h) Sia^af fieveTco iroalv dficfjorepoi^tv 
 <n7]pi/)(6e\<; iirl r^fj'i, p^etXo? ohovcn Saxcov. 
 
 Envied by men, by women praised and loved ; 
 
 Alive, a king ; a hero, dead on shield ; 
 Stand like him to the front, with hearts, unmoved ! 
 
 Bite the lip grimly — root the foot to the field ! 
 
 Three of the stirring war-songs of Tyrtaeus survive, 
 from the first of which the above is an extract. In the 
 second the poet reminds the Spartans that they are 
 descendants of Zeus himself, and ought to fight like 
 ■demi-gods. A certain sad and desperate courage, a 
 stoic and melancholy calm of soul, is in these elegiacs. 
 They have the Pagan's contempt for "the life that now 
 is," rather than the Christian soldier's faith in "the life 
 which is to come." One understands how the souls of 
 
TYRTMUS. 8 1 
 
 Leonidas and the three hundred of Thermopylae might 
 be suckled upon this strong and cold milk of the Muses. 
 The men who combed their hair smooth, to die by the 
 Persian lances ; and thanked Heaven that the arrows flew 
 so thickly, " because they could fight in the shade," were 
 well weaned from the weakness of life upon such lines as 
 these : — 
 
 kclI iroSa Trap' ttoBI 6el<; Koi err aairiho'i aairiS' ipelcrwi 
 
 iv Be Xo^ov T€ X6<j)(p KOI Kvverjv Kwirj 
 Koi arepvov crripv^ TreirXrifj.ivo'i avSpl fMf)(ea6a), 
 
 rj ^i(f)eo<; Kwnr'rjv rj Bopv fiaKpov eXtui'. 
 
 Foot against foot, buckler to buckler pressed ; 
 
 Plumes tossed on plumes, helmet with helmet clashing ; 
 Breast in the reeling fight knit close to breast, 
 
 So wield the blade and send the long lance flashing. ! 
 
 On such stern stuff were nourished the minds of those 
 Spartan dames, who bade their sons go forth to battle ; 
 and for a maternal blessing and farewell said, " Come back 
 with your shield, or come back upon it." The mother of 
 Brasidas taught these elegiacs to her boy; she who ob- 
 served, when the news of his glorious death was brought, 
 "Sparta hath many better soldiers than he." For the 
 songs of Tyrtaeus became " household words " in Lace- 
 daemon. Living, he was honoured with every distinction 
 and respect ; and dead, he was made a dear and famous 
 name for ever in Sparta. He was their war-poet long 
 after his death, and in many other battles beside those 
 at Ithome; and when the Lacedaemonians went out into 
 the field, they were always wont to sing the stirring 
 couplets of their old leader and laureate to the Spartan 
 
82 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 flute. Tyrtseus gained many a bloody day for the Dorians 
 with verses like these and their like, " singing of death and 
 of honour that cannot die." 
 
 ovhi TTOTe «Xeo9 eaOXov aTroXKurai ovB ovofi avTov, 
 
 dXX' inro yf/^ irep emv yiyverai aOdvarof 
 ovTtv apiffTevovTa fievovrd re fiapvajxevov re 
 
 yrjt; irepl Kol ■jraihaiv dovpo'i ' Aprj^ oXeay. 
 el Se <f>v<yji fihi icripa ravijXeyio^ Oavdroio 
 
 viK-ijaa^ S' al'Xjjirj<; dy\abv ev'xp'i eXr), 
 7rdvT€<; fiiv Tifiuiaiv 6fia)<; veoi rfhe traXaioi, 
 
 TToXXo. Be repirvd iradcov ep-xerai et? 'AiBrjv. 
 
 Never the glorious tale of him dies, nor the deeds of him ever ! 
 
 Under the earth he may lie, yet he is greater than Fate, 
 Whomso, firm in the battle, unyielding, awaiting his death-blovi', 
 
 Fighting for children and home. Mars the omnipotent slevi'. 
 But if he 'scape the message of death — the far-reaching slayer — 
 
 'Scape it and come safe home, bringing the garland of war ; 
 Then in his town he is honoured, by old men and young men together, 
 
 Many a glory and joy hath he, or ever he dies. 
 
ARCHILOCHUS. 
 
 An unkind mistress and an unbending father made Archi- 
 lochus, the Parian, a satirist and writer of what Horace calls 
 furentes iambos. He was contemporary of Tyrtaeus, and 
 composed the war-songs peculiar to his age for the battles 
 between the Naxians and Parians. The islander fought 
 himself, but his fame does not live only in consequence 
 of his valour or valorous verses. He loved a maiden of 
 Paros, called Neobule, the daughter of Lycambes. Records 
 of his early passion for this damsel are to be found among 
 the ruins of his writings. She must have been beautiful. 
 Here are something like stray threads from the tresses of 
 this antique beauty : — 
 
 Her flowing hair 
 Shaded her shoulders, and her neck and waist. 
 
 And again — 
 
 ea:fJiVpi.<Tfieva<s KOfiwi 
 
 KOI crTr]^<; w? ay kui, jepwv rjpaaaaTO. 
 
 Her scented hair 
 And bosom, sweet enough to stir old blood. 
 
 But great love and great hatred tremble into each other 
 
 from either side of an invisible, line, and Archilochus came 
 
 to write things as bitter of fair Neobule as these are sweet. 
 
 Lycambes had promised Neobule to the poet, but subse- 
 
 G 2 
 
84 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 quently changed his mind ; or else the young lady was 
 fickle, and had a heart after all of Parian marble. Archi- 
 lochus took a poetic and merciless Vengeance. He had 
 strung his cithara with new chords to make the iambic 
 line, and he used them like whip-lashes upon the unlucky 
 family. He was less than gentlemanly in his epigrams 
 upon Neobule ; and satirised the unfortunate father till 
 tradition says that that aggrieved Parian hanged himself 
 in sheer despair. It will be seen that these Greeks of the 
 middle ages of Hellas, whether they wrote battle chants or 
 hymns ; love songs or songs of hatred, put fervour into 
 them and living stuff. The lampoons of Archilochus had 
 such a disastrous success that iambics and satire came to 
 mean the same thing. Neobule should have kept her 
 word, but then poetic art would have waited longer for 
 the development of the flowing line, which the tragedians 
 afterwards borrowed from the angry muse of Archilochus 
 to employ in the noblest uses. The disappointed lover 
 pressed into the service of his rage a fine sense of epithet, 
 a simple, clear, lively style, and a deep knowledge of the 
 weak places in human nature ; as well as an originally 
 noble and poetic spirit, which this hapless passion warped. 
 In Archilochus is first found that generous sentiment — 
 
 ov r^ap eadXov KorQavovai KeprofiieLv eV avBpaav. 
 It is not good to speak ill of the dead. 
 
 And the following verse breathes a better religion than 
 hatred : — 
 
 fl Zed, TTwrep Zev, crov /Mev oiipavov KpaTOf. 
 (TV 8 6(37' eV avOpanr-fOV opa? 
 
ARCHILOCHUS. 85 
 
 Xetopya Kal Oefiicnd, aro\ he drjpicov 
 {5y8/3t? re Kal Blkt) fieXei. 
 
 Oh, Father Zeus, the Heavens are thine, 
 
 And thou dost know all works of men. 
 Evil and good. Thine edicts shine 
 
 All-potent, in the wild-beasts' den. 
 
 But little except broken samples of the man's goodness 
 or badness remains — enough, no doubt, to show that Archi- 
 lochus had mastered the iambic and the tetrametric line, 
 and that " epode " which Horace imitated, as he himself 
 allows in the "Epistles." Here is one fragment of the 
 " raging iambics :" — 
 
 Alv6(; TK avapwiruiv oSe, 
 to? ap' aXmirr]^ Kakrot; ^vvasviriv 
 e/Mi^av. 
 
 Of monstrous birth and terrible this man, 
 As if an eagle and a fox had mixed 
 To get him. 
 
 No wonder Lycambes hanged himself; Paros is a little 
 place, and he was " between the devil and the deep sea." 
 
SIMONIDES OF AMORGOS. 
 
 There is no new idea! We are plagiarists from our 
 ancestors in the most modern novelties of thought, and 
 Dr. Darwin's theory of " Natural Selection'' was anticipated 
 in the time of Archilochus by his imitator, Simonides of 
 Amorgos ! The iambic line which the poet of Paros 
 employed for private resentments, Simonides used for 
 public satire. He is especially notable for a poem upon 
 women, Tre/jt 'yvvaoKOiv. In this production a very curious 
 view is broached, to the effect that all womankind is 
 derived from the lower animals, and that the various 
 characters and caprices of the sex are due to the dif- 
 ferences between the nature of the creatures from which 
 they are developed. This is very rude, however philo- 
 sophical ; but Simonides never pretended to be gallant. 
 He twice repeats in this little satire of only ninety couplets 
 the line — 
 
 Zev<; yap fieytarov rovr eivoirjaev kukov lyvvaiKw;. 
 
 For Zeus hath sent the worst of all his plagues in womankind. 
 
 Certainly everybody must have noticed among the 
 countenances of the passengers in any thronged street, how 
 strangely and frequently the features recall the charac- 
 teristics of some animal. The horse-face, the squirrel-face, 
 the cat-face, the bird-face are quite common. And when 
 a dog-picture of Sir Edwin Landseer is studied — as, for 
 instance, the " Laying down the Law," or " Alexander and 
 
SIMONIDES OF AMORGOS. 8/ 
 
 Diogenes" — we are curiously sensible of a hidden and 
 subtle likeness between the canine race and mankind, 
 which the skilful artist has rather noted than invented. 
 That poodle, how grave, judicial, and ponderously wise 
 he looks ! That she " King Charles," what a dame du 
 cour the little coquette is ! and the blood-hound, what a 
 heavy-jowled " plunger " of the canine Horse Guards ! 
 Simonides worked the idea out upon a broader poetical 
 canvas than the painter. His view is that every woman 
 has been in a previous life some bird, beast, or insect; 
 for of the men he said nothing. The ill-favoured and 
 sluttish one was a sow, the cunning one a vixen-fox, the 
 busybody a bitch, the greedy and dull an ass, the gay 
 and vain a mare, the pinched and malicious one an ape. 
 Let us hasten, however, from these unkind genealogies 
 to the single poor little piece of praise which the lago of 
 Amorgos awards to that sex which has ever been the 
 victim, first of male tyranny, and afterwards of male 
 sarcasm and abuse. One sort of woman is good and 
 sweet, the woman born from a bee : — 
 
 ^iKi] Se (7VV (juXevvn yripdcTKec iroaei, 
 reKovaa koXov KOvvojjbaicKvTOV yevo'i' 
 Kapt7rpeirrj<; fiev iv ywat^l yvyverat 
 irda-rjcri, Qeir} S' afi(f>LSeBpofj,ev %ajOt9* 
 ovB' iv yvvai^lv •^Serai Kadr^fievrj, 
 
 Dear to her spouse from youth to age she grows ; 
 Fills with fair girls and sturdy boys his house ; 
 Among all women womanliest seems, 
 And heavenly grace about her mild brow gleams. 
 A gentle wife, a noble spouse she walks. 
 
88 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 OKOV Xeyovcnv a^pohi(TLOv<s Xoyov;. 
 Toia<; yvvalKa'; avBpdaiv ^(apl^eTai 
 Zev<s Ta? apiara<; Koi TroXv^paSearaTa^. 
 
 Nor ever with the gossipmongers talks ; 
 Such women sometimes Zeus to mortals gives, 
 The glory and the solace of their lives. 
 
 But it is too plain that Simonides believed very little in 
 the existence of these " bee-women." His style, however, 
 was better than his life, there is reason to believe, and 
 such kinds only swarm into clean and honest hives. 
 
MIMNERMUS. 
 
 Danger is good for nations as for men. When Ionia was 
 delivered from the constant menace of invasion, by being 
 made a subject province of Lydia, the fire and the bright 
 honour flashing in the elegiacs of Callinus died out. Then 
 came a race of soft, effeminate singers like Mimnermus, 
 who " flourished " B.C. 600. Sweet and eloquent was this 
 Colophonian, and his countrymen called him \tp/vcTTahri<;, 
 " the melodious." But the strings of his cithara thrill only 
 with the passions which enervate. Ionia had no glories 
 left, and her poets no pride. The verses of Mimnermus 
 are tender and skilful, but they exhibit a voluptuous soul 
 abandoned to pleasure, a light and fine Greek nature, find- 
 ing youth, love, beauty, wine and feasting, joys bountiful 
 enough for contented existence, if only the black shadow 
 of death did not overhang them. Here is a strain from 
 the sorely-changed minstrelsy of Ionia : — 
 
 TlfS Be /S/09, T/f Se Tepirvov arep ')(pvaerj'i 'A(j)poSiTrji; ; 
 
 Tedvavrfl) ore /jloi ^Keri Toura fwKoi, 
 KpvTrraSlrj ^CKorr)<; Kal fiei\t')(a S&pa Koi evvr). 
 
 avdea T7J<i ^/St?? jlryverai apiraKea 
 dvSpdcnv ^Se r^wM^iv iirel S' ohvvrjpov eireTiBr] 
 
 Life without golden love — what bliss in this ? 
 
 Oh, let me die when I can love no more ! 
 The stolen words, the honeyed gifts, the kiss, 
 
 These are the blossoms that youth's branches pour 
 
go THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 jripa<; 6 T alaypov 6fia)<; koX kukov dvBpa ridei, 
 alel fiev cf>peva<; a/J,(JH Kaicai reipovcn fiepcfivav. 
 
 On lovers and their loved ones ; but vile time 
 Spoils the glad heart, and makes the bright eyes dim. 
 
 This antique epicurean fixed sixty years of age as the 
 time at which he would wish to die. Did he keep to his 
 wish when threescore years had drifted their snows upon 
 his head .■■ We know Httle more of him than that he was 
 still poet and lover enough to win the heart of beautiful 
 Nanno, a flute-player, when he was near that age ; and 
 that Solon, the law-giver, thought him worthy of a poetic 
 remonstrance, while Horace has embalmed his roseate 
 philosophy in the lines — 
 
 " Si, Mimnermus uti censet, sine amore jocisque , 
 Nil est jucundum — vivas in amore jocisque." 
 
 Hor. Ep. i. vi. 65. 
 
SOLON. 
 
 But place for a greater name ! Solon, the legislator of the 
 Athenians, was among these elegiac poets, and no mean 
 competitor either of the very best. If Plutarch's story 
 be true about his poem upon Salamis — as may well be 
 believed from the noble verses which survive — Solon 
 might have won a name as great in poetry as he has left 
 in the architectonic art of government. The Athenians, 
 weary with their long struggle against the people of 
 Megara for the possession of the island of Salamis, had 
 passed an impatient law, decreeing death against any 
 one who should mention the name of the place. Solon's 
 patriotic heart chafed at this unworthy prohibition, and, 
 according to the story, he let it go about that he was 
 out of his senses. One day he broke forth from his 
 house into the market-place, and mounting the stone, 
 he commenced reciting a poem that he had composed, 
 in which the shame of losing so beautiful an islet was 
 pictured with such force, that almost before the verses 
 could be finished the young men of the city exploded in 
 cries of indignation, and the law was repealed by accla- 
 mation, an expedition determined upon almost on the 
 spot, and Salamis was finally regained and added to Attica. 
 We retain still the fiery words which kindled this spirit in 
 the young Athenians ; — 'iofiev, the Law-giver poet, cried : — 
 
 'iofiev 619 Sdka/uva fiw^n^crofievoi, irepl vqcrov 
 IfjjepTfj^- ■xaKeTTop t aia-j(p'i anraaofievoi. 
 
92 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 To Salamis ! sail we to Salamis ! 
 
 To win the lovely isle, arid end our shame ! 
 
 Solon, it is declared, conceived the idea at first of 
 writing his laws in metre ; and if ever jurisprudence could 
 be versified, his was certainly the two-fold genius to have 
 accomplished that curious feat. We have some relics — 
 too few, alas ! — of his didactic and moral poems. All 
 breathe a lofty and faithful spirit — not austere, never 
 narrow, but "of large discourse" — full of a strong belief 
 in the eternal principles of the good and the true, the 
 singing of one who 
 
 " Heard in his soul the music 
 Of wonderful melodies.'' 
 
 Indeed, none can rightly honour Solon the law-maker 
 in history, who have not met him upon the slopes of 
 Parnassus. The fervour and humanity of the poet are 
 explanations thrown upon the justice and wisdom of his 
 statutes ; round about his Greek brow there shone the 
 glory of a heavenly inspiration, as, like a Greek Moses, 
 he stood before his people with the tablets of the law in 
 hand. 
 
PHOCYLIDES. 
 
 Miletus gave birth to this Ionian, who may be called 
 the Tusser of the elegiac style — at any rate, as far as 
 he can be judged of by his remnants. He wrote some- 
 thing very much like the " Five Hundred Points," except 
 that his theme was moral and social instead of agricul- 
 tural. He dealt in " wise saws " and ancient " instances," 
 and has an egotistic way of announcing every fresh 
 dictum or gnome with koI roSe ^mKvXihias, " Phocylides 
 also saith this." A certain finish and neatness charac- 
 terise these proverbs, among which the subjoined is perhaps 
 a fair specimen of his manner and generally unexception- 
 able philosophy : — 
 
 Tvrj(Ti,6<; elfu (ptKo's, Kal rov <pi\ov to? <^iXov olSa, 
 Tou? Se KaKov<i BioXov Traz/ra? aTroaTpe(f>ofiai. 
 ovSiva OcoTreiKO tt/jo? vTroKpicriv bus S' apa rinS), 
 TOVTOv; i^ o-PXV'' f^^XP'' ''■^^ow ar/aTTCt). 
 
 A friendly friend I am, who love my lover ; 
 
 The bad I hate, and wholly keep at bay. 
 No man I court for show — but those I honour 
 
 I honour from the first to the last day. 
 
THEOGNIS. 
 
 What has come down to us as the bequest of Theognis 
 in Hterature is apparently a mosaic from all sorts of elegiac 
 writers; and, on the other hand, Theognis has probably- 
 parted to Phocylides and others with something which 
 belonged to himself. True, he was a Dorian, but the 
 Ionic dialect was so thoroughly the language of verse at 
 this date, that nobody yet thought of composing except 
 in this, which was the classical vernacular for all the 
 Hellenic peoples. Theognis belonged to the aristocratic 
 class of Megara, which Theagenes thrust from power in 
 the sixth century before Christ, amid which revolution 
 the poet lost everything, and was obliged to go into exile. 
 His soul is, therefore, sorely embittered by the world as 
 he has known it ; and he writes much as a Tory bishop 
 of the present time, with disestablishment impending, 
 might write from an Irish see. His maxims and reflec- 
 tions are addressed chiefly to one Cyrnus, and the progress 
 of the popular triumph at Megara may be traced in these 
 sad or rather atrabilious lines. Theognis denounces the 
 Megara Reform Bill, objects to have the taxes rectified, 
 objects to everything which has happened, in point of 
 fact. Even the women of the city fall under his lash ; 
 and if he has painted his fair fellow citoyennes accurately, 
 Megara in 550 B.C. must have been but too much like 
 Belgravia in the present year of grace. He writes :— 
 
THEOGNIS. 
 
 95 
 
 ovhe. yvvfj kukov avSpb<; avaiverat elvai ciKoini; 
 
 TrXovaiov, aXK' a^veov /Sovkerai avT ar/aOov. 
 ^(prjfjbara yap Tifiaxri, koI e'/c kukov itr&Ko^ eyrjfjL.ev 
 
 KUi, KUKo^ e^ ajaOov' Tr\ovTO<{ e/Mi^e <yevo<i. 
 
 No maid declines to be a bad man's wife. 
 
 Is he but rich ? ricljes will make him good ; 
 Of wealth alone they think ; foul marries fair. 
 
 Fair, foul ; God Plutus pairs the greedy brood. 
 
 Theognis, it will be seen, had much of the easy flow 
 and finish of his time ; and there are passages of his work 
 extant where he is not quite so moody and ill-tempered. 
 Yet there is nothing that can be called lofty in thought 
 or fine in style among the relics of this oligarch, who 
 presents himself to us in fancy as a Megarean Horace 
 Walpole, fallen upon times very distasteful to his habits 
 and disagreeable for his pocket. In the following lines 
 he gives Megara and the world up altogether, with a faint 
 reservation in favour of what a Tory now-a-days would 
 call some future "Conservative reaction :" — 
 
 'EXTrh iv avOpanroicrt fiovi) 6eo<; iaOXr) evecrnv, 
 aXXoi S' OvkvfJbTrovh' e/c7r/3oXt7roi'T6? e/3ai/. 
 
 a>X,^To fiev Hia-Ti'; fieyjXr] 6e6<;, oiJ^eTO 8' avhpSiv 
 Sa}(f)poa-vvr), Xdpire<i r, w 0t'Xe, yfjv eKnrov. 
 
 opKot, S' oiiKeri TncTTol iv avOpdmoccri, Blkuioi, 
 ovBe deov<; ovBeU a^erai aOavdrovi. 
 
 Hope is the only god or goddess left. 
 
 The others are gone up Olympus' side. 
 Faith, holiest of all, is fled ; bereft 
 
 Is Modesty ; the Graces terrified 
 Have quitted earth ; oaths are observed no more. 
 
 And no man any longer fears great heaven : 
 
96 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 evcre^eayv B' avBpav jivo<; e(pdiTO, ovBe Qefucrra^ 
 ovKert ji/yvcoaKova ovBe fiev evi7ej3iai. 
 
 The age of piety is past and o'er, 
 
 And righteousness to all the winds is given. 
 
 But we may trust that Megara was not altogether so 
 bad as this. It produced some good men in after years, 
 when Theognis had cooled his indignation and settled pro- 
 saically down at Thebes. 
 
HIPPONAX AND ANANIUS. 
 
 These unknown celebrities, whose names have survived 
 their fame, invented, or were amongst the very first to em- 
 ploy, the choliambus, or " halting iambic," a measure which, 
 in its rhythm and character, goes very well to satire, and 
 was used for satirical verse. Hipponax was an Ionian of 
 Ephesus, living in the latter half of the sixth century 
 before Christ. He led a worried and unlucky existence, 
 as did Theognis, and died in exile — circumstances which 
 tended to sour the milk of his kindness. He lashed the 
 vices of his age with much consequent severity, especially 
 its prodigality and luxury. He lashed the vicious also. 
 Bupalus and Athenis, two worthless sculptors of Chios, 
 made a caricature in marble of this stern moralist of 
 Ephesus, unkindly exaggerating every point of his thin and 
 awkward figure. The poet paid them back in their own 
 bitter way ; he flayed them alive with his choliambics — 
 drove them up and down Ionia with stinging epigrams and 
 ingenious epithets, which burned like Greek fire; till at 
 last, according to the legend, the hapless artists hanged 
 themselves, after the fashion of Lycambes, and found 
 refuge in death from this terrible satiric muse. 
 
 His contemporary and imitator, Ananius, is nominis 
 umbra — a name, and nothing more; but the two poets 
 must have a place together upon the roll of Hellenic 
 art for a still better reason than the invention of the 
 
 "choliambics." They conceived, or first perfected, that 
 
 H 
 
q8 the poets of GREECE. 
 
 great weapon of wit and humour, the Parody. Hipponax 
 has the credit of having earliest discovered how to " sap 
 a solemn creed with solemn sneer," to prolong a huge 
 and organised jest, to make serious fun of seriousness, 
 and render gravity ridiculous with grave words. The 
 oldest and still the best example of this potent instru- 
 ment of mockery is the " Batrachomyomachia," or " Battle 
 of the Frogs and the Mice." There is a foolish tradition 
 that Homer himself composed this parody. It is, indeed, 
 almost lively and close enough to deserve the compliment, 
 but Homer would never thus have travestied himself. 
 The " Batrachomyomachia " is a bright, clever, witty 
 parody of the Iliad, in which the heroics of Greeks and 
 Trojans are mocked in the most amusing style, under 
 cover of an imaginary battle between the frogs and the 
 mice. Epithet, phrase, metre, imagery, " pride, pomp, 
 circumstance of glorious war," are all hit off after the 
 Homeric method with a perfectly captivating art ; and 
 this well-sustained jeu d' esprit remains as fresh in interest 
 and rich mirth as when it was first written down on 
 parchment or palm-leaf by its ancient author. Even in 
 the translation of Parnell, the comic force and " inex- 
 tinguishable laughter " of the excellent poem is very fully 
 seen. The author, whoever he be, had learned his lesson 
 from Hipponax, the first parodist ; and to Hipponax every 
 clever travesty must pay the tribute of gratitude ; while 
 it is scarcely too much to say that the riant spirit pro- 
 voked by this mdcking-bird muse had as direct a share 
 in producing the Greek Comedy, as Homer's majestic 
 verses in the outcoming of Greek Tragedy. 
 
THE LYRICAL POETS OF ^OLIA. 
 
 Lesbos, soft in name, is pleasant and beautiful to behold. 
 It lies like a green and purple cloud upon the JEgean sea, 
 as the traveller sails down the winding Gulf of Smyrna ; 
 and as he opens the Kara-Ras, or Black Cape, the cloud 
 grows up into a glorious island, whose very brambles 
 are wild vines, and its underwood myrtles and jasmine — 
 among which the white and red houses of the towns and 
 villages shine, at a distance, like flowers. The women 
 are still the fairest in the Archipelago, the air the finest, 
 the soil the richest ; and, until the earthquake lately 
 ravaged this smiling scene, it was the happiest and 
 wealthiest of the Ottoman Turk's sea-possessions. But 
 what makes the wandering scholar love it, and hasten 
 towards its emerald shores, to land upon them with 
 eager delight, is the memory of its lyric glories. Alcseus 
 and Sappho, Erinna and Arion were islanders of lovely 
 Lesbos. Here was born that softer music of the Grecian 
 muse, which seems to lisp, as it were, in its open ^Eolic 
 vowels— fierce as it knew how to be in war-songs, and 
 passionate in the frenzies of love or hate. 
 
 H 2 
 
TERPANDER. 
 
 Lesbos was ^olian, and consecrated, from the earliest 
 
 poetic age, by no meaner relics than the head and the 
 
 lyre of Orpheus. When the Maenads tore him to pieces, 
 
 and threw his mutilated body into the Hebrus, the 
 
 river bore it to the sea, and the sea washed it up upon 
 
 the Lesbian coast. The Lesbians preserved the sacred 
 
 head at Antissa, in a shrine of marble, and suspended the 
 
 lyre above it ; and it was always believed that not only 
 
 the poets and poetesses of the island derived a sweeter 
 
 science from the trophy, but that the very nightingales 
 
 had certain delicious notes in their song unknown to 
 
 birds in any other woods in Greece. Terpander was one 
 
 of those who must often have lingered at this hallowed 
 
 tomb, to hear the .^gean winds setting a-thrill the chords 
 
 of the lyre of Orpheus as it hung. But Terpander's great 
 
 fame in the Temple of Greek poetic art is due to the 
 
 fact that he improved that lyre ; he added three strings to 
 
 the four of Orpheus, and by that innovation not merely 
 
 invented the phorminx — and Greek music with it — but 
 
 we may also say, the harmonic music of the western 
 
 world. As a poet, Terpander cannot now be fairly judged, 
 
 for the remnants of his writings are very few, and found 
 
 chiefly in quotations. It is as a musician, the forerunner 
 
 of the lyrists, that Terpander was greatest. This is not the 
 
 place to discuss the very interesting question of Greek 
 
TERPANDER. lOI 
 
 musical art ; but it may be safely believed that, side by 
 side with a poesy so noble and varied as the choruses 
 of the Tragedians and the odes and dithyrambs of all the 
 later lyric singers, a sister science must have marched, 
 not unworthy of such stately company. The fact that 
 Greek music was divided so distinctly into " modes " and 
 " gnomes," shows how far it stood from being a mere bar- 
 baric accompaniment. There was the Dorian, the Lydian, 
 and the Phrygian " mode." The Dorian was simple, 
 grave, "Gregorian" in character; the Lydian was lighter, 
 livelier, more tender and gay ; fit for feast-days and 
 holidays, wine-cups and flower-crowns, and it went best, 
 say the classics, to flutes and feminine voices. The 
 Phrygian mode was wild, excited, " Wagner-like " in its 
 vague, aspiring strains, for both the Phrygian and Lydian, 
 as their names show, were semi-Asiatic. Terpander seems 
 to have taken these existing "modes," and blending 
 them together, to have constructed a system of melody 
 and harmony which passed into Greece, and gave to 
 poetry — already richly and variously developed — a music 
 rich and various enough, albeit still undeveloped, to be 
 worthy of setting to the words of such writers as Alcman 
 and Sappho, Pindar and Sophocles. 
 
ALC^US. 
 
 Already it has been seen, by incidental remarks, how 
 Hellas was throughout divided into the aristocratic and 
 democratic elements. In point of fact, its political history 
 is a recital of the struggle between these principles, 
 which are never absent from any human story of civilisa- 
 tion, and which make the staple of all civil annals alike 
 in Greece between lonians and Dorians, in Rome be- 
 tween plebeians and patricians, in England between 
 Conservatives and Radicals. Alcseus was an oligarch 
 like Theognis of Megara, and a busy, fierce, embittered; 
 political personage. It is not necessary to recite the events 
 of his stormy career ; but fair as Lesbos was, its face was 
 often ravaged by civil and foreign warfare, and to give 
 the poet his just place in the temple of fame, the influences 
 of his time and society must be duly allowed for. 
 Alcaeus used the gift of poetry for a Weapon in the 
 intestine contests of Mitylene. Those odes which Horace 
 borrows so freely from this Lesbian singer, were wet 
 with blood at least as often as with wine. The " Oh navis 
 te referent" is taken nearly word for word from a Greek 
 ode of Alcaeus ; but the original was a wild and furious 
 diatribe against the popular constitution towards which 
 Myrsilus was conducting the islanders. The "Nunc est 
 bibendum," again, which is a favourite bacchanalian quota- 
 tion for modern as it was for Roman revellers, stands 
 
ALCMUS. 103 
 
 really, in the verses of the aristocratic poet, as a death- 
 song, savage like a Red Indian's, inhuman as a cannibal's, 
 composed upon the occasion of the murder of Myrsilus, 
 the democratic chief of Mitylene. Alcaeus flung his 
 musical anger abroad upon the heads of his enemies, with 
 all the prejudice of a Greek Tory, and all the polished 
 and fastidious scorn of an English patrician. One has to 
 keep in mind his real poetic gift, and the nobility of some 
 of his writings, to give him therefore his unquestionable 
 place in the sacred procession of poets. This he claims 
 and must have, for his faults were due to the breeding and 
 the morality of his time — his generous and lofty instincts 
 were his own. He it was who wrote the noble sentence 
 that " The best ramparts of a city are the manly breasts 
 within it." He fought bravely for his opinions ; and the 
 story that he threw away his shield at the battle of 
 Sigaeum is probably not true. There is bitterness and 
 there is rancour in Alcseus, but no trace of cowardice ; 
 his odes, on the contrary, are full of warlike fire, which 
 the life of the poet reflected. Nor, in truth, did war and 
 politics wholly fill the heart of the .^olian — he wrote songs 
 for the banquet and the festival, which Horace has copied 
 by whole stanzas together ; as well as religious hymns and 
 choruses, after the ancient manner as far as epithet and 
 ideas go, but in his own new lyric strain. This strain 
 — the Alcaic verse — he is thought to have invented, and 
 Horace calls him its inventor. It is not one which has 
 found many imitators in any other tongues except the 
 Greek and Latin, but it has a singular neatness, energy, 
 and march in those classical languages, with a power of 
 
I04 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 sustained music which the sweeter Sapphic verse cannot 
 boast. Here is an Alcaean stanza, one of the many stolen 
 by the Roman lyrist, the metre of which is preserved in 
 the translation : — 
 
 Kdj3^aX\e rov ')(eiiJ,S)v hr\ fiev ndeh 
 TTvp, iv Se KipvuK olvov d^€iBeco<; 
 fieXf^pov, avrap a/j,^l Kopcra 
 
 IxaXdaKov d/Mcjjt^aKaiv yvdcpaWov. 
 
 Drive out the winter, piling up plentiful 
 Fire-wood, and mingling cups of the honey-wine 
 Freely, while upon our foreheads 
 Sprays of the winter-green thus we fasten. 
 
SAPPHO. 
 
 But the greatest distinction of Alcseus— at least, in the 
 minds of all those who take delight in the Nine Muses 
 — ^was that he was the lover of the " Tenth Muse." By this 
 proud title the admiring Lesbians called that exquisite 
 poetess, their countrywoman, whose genius among all 
 feminine votaries of ancient singing stands incontestably 
 highest. Sappho is the figure in all antiquity which 
 rises to the mind of the scholar as the purest imperso- 
 nation of the art of lyric song. Her name is musical 
 and gentle; the verse to which she has given that name 
 for ever is a soft and musical measure of melodious and 
 perfect flow, while about her story there hangs a mystery 
 revealing enough for sympathy, enough for imagination, 
 enough for the heart to work with, in order to embody 
 a delicate, but yet sufficient image of the Lesbian as she 
 lived. All that we possess of her delicious singing (each 
 line a precious thing) sheds upon her brow the light of a real 
 and divine poetic inspiration ; stamps her a Singer of the 
 Singers — a true and undoubted poetess. Her name has 
 grown famous in all the earth; the ALgea.n and the Adriatic 
 Seas have been visited for her sake by travellers, who ask 
 where Sappho lived, and whence Sappho sprang into the 
 billows, now that nearly twenty-five centuries are passed 
 since her time. The islands of those seas have seemed richer 
 for the treasure of her fame, their waves shine brighter 
 with the light of it ; and whether the voyager, sailing past 
 
I06 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 Lesbos and Leucate, conjures up in his mind a Sappho 
 of his own creation, or recalls that beautiful figure which 
 the French sculptor Pradier has graved of her, the air, the 
 water, the land, the spirit of these spots are full of the 
 grace and sorrow of the Lesbian lady. A young English 
 poet, perhaps the only one who could translate Sappho 
 worthily — if he had at his disposal all the lost wealth of 
 her poems — although he stoops to repeat the untrue and 
 unnatural scandal against her sweet name which gossiping 
 generations have invented — does brilliant justice to her 
 deathless genius, and speaks unquestionable truth in these 
 lines from his "Anactoria." 
 
 " These hath God made, and me as these, and wrought 
 Song, and hath Ut it at my lips ; and me 
 Earth shall not gather, though she feed on thee. 
 
 Albeit they hide me in the deep dear sea. 
 
 And cover me with cool wave foam, and ease 
 
 This soul of mine as any soul of these, 
 
 And give me water, and great sweet waves, and make 
 
 The very sea's name lordlier for my sake, 
 
 The whole sea sweeter — albeit I die indeed. 
 
 And hide myself, and sleep, and no man heed. 
 
 Of me the high God hath not all his will ! 
 
 Blossom of branches, and on each high hill 
 
 Clear air, and wind, and under, in clamorous vales. 
 
 Fierce noises of the fiery nightingales, 
 
 Buds burning in the sudden spring like fire. 
 
 The wave-washed sand, and the wave's vain desire ; 
 
 Sails seen like blown white flowers at sea, and words 
 
 That bring tears swiftest, and long notes of birds 
 
 Violently singing, till the whole world sings — 
 
 I, Sappho, shall be one with all these things. 
 
 With all high things for ever ; and my face 
 
 Seen once, my songs once heard in a strange place 
 
 Cleave to men's lives, and waste the days thereof 
 
 With gladness and strange sadness and with love. " 
 
 Swinburn^s " Poems and Ballads. '" 
 
SAPPHO. 
 
 107 
 
 Such, and so blended with all that is passionate and 
 lovely on the lyric lyre of Greece, is the memory of 
 Sappho to the scholar. Let not that memory be ungrate- 
 fully and unjustly sullied by those who should defend it ! 
 Sappho the poetess never burned with an unnatural fire, 
 as is alleged ; nor corrupted the maidens of Lesbos ; nor 
 did nor said nor thought the things which are attributed 
 to her by unkind or blundering critics. Nay, and though 
 romance may complain, and a lovely scene of land and 
 water may lose one of its charms for the traveller, 
 Sappho the poetess never leaped from the rock of 
 Leucate, and never, in spite of the mellifluous verses of 
 Ovid, sighed for, nor even saw Phaon. One, the most 
 shameful of these calumnies, has sprung from the simple 
 fact that she taught the love and the art of her perfect 
 song to a circle of Lesbian women. Herodotus men- 
 tions Sappho, but says nothing about Phaon, nor does 
 Hermesianax either, or Antipater of Sidon, who, indeed, 
 on the contrary, relates that she died peacefully in her 
 own island. Furthermore, in the Bibliotheca of Photius, 
 an extract is given from a work of Ptolemy, the son of 
 Hephsestion, in which there is a catalogue of all the de- 
 spairing lovers who had leaped from the Leucadian steep, 
 and therein there is no allusion at all to the Lesbian 
 poetess. The Sappho who did leap into the Ionian waves 
 was " Sappho of Eresus," also a native of the island of 
 Lesbos — and this personage may, perhaps, have deserved 
 all that the unpleasant scandal of the ages has heaped 
 upon the noble and pure singer. Let, then, such slanders 
 die, and let the laurels upon the brow of Sappho gleam 
 
I08 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 free of canker or blight. Is the verse which she addressed 
 to Alcaeus such as a " light o' love " would have written ? 
 The poet had sent her this line : — 
 
 QeKco Tt euTrrjv, a\Xa fie KQ)\vei 
 Something I would say, but that shame prevents me. 
 
 And Sappho replied with the following poetical rebuke : — 
 
 Al B' iKe 0"' l<T&\,Siv i/jiepo<; rj kuXcov 
 Kal iJ/ri Ti ehrriv jXwatr' skvku Kaicov, 
 alhd><; «€ ffev ovk el'^ev binraT, 
 aXK' eKer/e<; irepl tw BiKauo. 
 
 If thou wert longing for right things or fair things, 
 If thy lips trembled with nothing that was sinful, 
 Shame had not held thee from speaking out thy meaning ; 
 Silence had not so chained thy tongue. 
 
 An answer like this could not come, one would say, from 
 any but a good and honourable spirit ; it ought of itself 
 to silence the absurd accusations which people have not 
 been ashamed to heap upon the gentle head of the Sappho 
 of Mitylene. Besides, when Sappho's brother Charaxus 
 brought from Egypt, where he had purchased her, a 
 beautiful woman called Rhodopis, of the same ill trade 
 with the Sappho of EresUs — the really profligate Sappho 
 — this one, our poetess, upbraided him in very severe 
 verses ; and when she wrote them, be it remarked, she 
 must have been far past the usual age of romance or 
 of suicide on account of passion, since Amasis was King 
 of Egypt when Rhodopis lived there ; and as that 
 monarch did not begin to reign till B.C. 570, Sappho the 
 
SAPPHO. 109 
 
 poetess must have been even then .fifty years old, peace- 
 fully and purely living, as these facts go to show, with 
 her daughter Cleis, the child of her husband Cercolas. 
 Equally untrue appears the statement that Anacreon was 
 a lover of the Lesbian singer: although Alcaeus, as has 
 been seen, paid court to her ; nor indeed is it likely that 
 she was not sought by many in Lesbos, since the islanders 
 regarded her with absolute enthusiasm, and stamped her 
 face upon their coins, where they were wont to impress the 
 effigies of the gods only. There are other lines of Alcaeus 
 extant, breathing towards her a very tender and respect- 
 ful sentiment. " Violet-crowned " he calls her, " modest 
 and sweetly-smiling;" and this again is not the language 
 in which a courtesan or corrupter of the girls of Lesbos 
 would be addressed by a lover like Alcaeus. No doubt, 
 we must not try the manners and morals of the island 
 by the standards of later ages ; it is not to be supposed 
 that Sappho was a cold or insensible person, who wrote 
 a few songs, lived an altogether ordinary life, and died 
 "as the leaves do." Enough if the ungenerous calumny 
 has been repelled which loads her nature with cruel 
 injustice, and her name with unnatural disgrace — enough 
 if these brief remarks permit us to hear the music of 
 her exquisite and tender lyre, without the painful feeling 
 that the song is sweet, but the singer evil. 
 
 Too few, alas ! for art, for music, for all those ears 
 which know the subtle sound of perfect poetry, are the 
 echoes that still survive of her delicious singing. Love is 
 the burden of the greater part of them — love, passionate, 
 burning, intense ; but such as pure and noble hearts will 
 
I lO THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 and may feel, though few have set the sighs of it to 
 words so eloquent as these : — 
 
 UoiKikoOpov addvaT ' A(^pohira, 
 TTttt Aio<i SoKoirXoKe, Xiffaofiai ae, 
 fjuTj jj! acraicn firjB^ aviaicn tdfiva, 
 
 TTOTVla, dvfiov. 
 dXXa TviB' e\6', ai nrora Karepwra, 
 TO? e/x.a? avBa<; aioicra' iroXXd S' 
 e/cXue?, TraTjoo? Se Sofiov Xiirotcra 
 
 ')(pvc7eov rfKOe^ 
 dpfi^ inro^ev^acra' KaXol Se a ar/ov 
 ftj/cee? arpovdol irrepvy ? fj,e7ui,iva<} 
 irvKvd Sivfjvret Trepariov dir aiOe- 
 
 po'; Sia fiecrcrof 
 al\lra 8' i^LKovTO' tv S', & fiaKaipa, 
 ^e&acraia ddavdro) TrpoacoTrtp, 
 fjpe OTTi Sijiire nrenrovda, kotti 
 
 8rjVT€ KdXT)IJ,i, 
 
 Splendour-throned Queen ! immortal Aphrodite ! 
 Daughter of Jove — Enchantress ! I implore thee 
 Vex not my soul with agonies and anguish ; 
 
 Slay me not, Goddess ! 
 Come in thy pity — come, if I have prayed thee ; 
 Come at the cry of my sorrow ; in the old times 
 Oft thou hast heard and left thy father's heaven. 
 
 Left the gold houses, 
 Yoking thy chariot. Swiftly did the doves fly, 
 Swiftly they brought thee, waving plumes of wonder — 
 Waving their dark plumes all across the aether. 
 
 All down the azure ! 
 Very soon they lighted. Then didst thou. Divine one, 
 Laugh a bright laugh from lips and eyes immprtal, 
 Ask me, " What ailed me — wherefore out of heaven 
 
 "Thus I had called thee? 
 
SAPPHO. I I I 
 
 KOTTi ifim fiaXtcTTa diXo) yeveadai, 
 fiaivoXa dvfjbo), rlva Srjvre irelOoi 
 Kai (rayrjvdecrcrav (pikoraT, otk <t , Si 
 
 Koi yap al (^euyu, Ta)(e<o<; Sioo^ei, 
 al he hStpa fit) Sskst, aXXa hatcrei, 
 al Se firj ^iXei, Ta;^e£0? ^Ckrjcyei 
 
 KOVK eOekoiaav. 
 i\,0e fj.01 Kol vvv, ■xaXsTrav Se Xvaov 
 iic fiepifjivav, 6<T<Ta Be fioi TeXecrcrai 
 dufiov Ifieppei reXecrov, aii S' aiira 
 
 crvfi/iaxp'i e(7(T0. 
 
 " What it was made me madden in my heart so?" 
 Question me, smiling — say to me, " My Sappho, 
 " Who is it wrongs thee? tell me who refuses 
 
 " Thee, vainly sighing." 
 " Be it who it may be, he that flies shall follow ; 
 " He that rejects gifts, he shall bring thee many ; 
 " He that hates now shall love thee dearly, madly — 
 
 " Ay, though thou wouldst not." 
 So once again come, Mistress ; and, releasing 
 Me from my sadness, give me what I sue for. 
 Grant me my prayer, and be as heretofore now 
 Friend and protectress ! 
 
 The translation here given seems, in truth, to the trans- 
 lator, as much as it possibly can to any one else, to lack 
 the tender earnest ./Eolic melody of the original ; while 
 phrases or words which in that original have a Sapphic 
 sweetness, a sense and fervour utterly peculiar and original, 
 are quite lost as the lovely Greek passes forth into English. 
 As it passes, indeed, into a7ty tongue ; for see how poorly 
 even Catullus deals with the first two stanzas of the best 
 known of all the poems of Sappho : — 
 
112 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 (jjaiverdi /moi /crjvo^ it70<; Oeolaiv 
 e/j,/j,ev aivrjp, 6aTi<i evavrio's rot,, 
 l^dvei Kal ifKrfcriov dBii (fxovev- 
 
 aa<; xnraKovei 
 Kal yeXacawi ifiepoev to fiot rdv 
 Kaphidv iv oTTjOecriv eirroao'ev 
 0)9 rSa) yap ere ^po^e, W9 fie (pmvw 
 
 Qvoei" 6T t/cet. 
 
 This the Roman poet turns into Latin as follows : — 
 
 Ille ml par esse deo videtur, 
 Ille, si fas. est, superare divos 
 Qui sedens, adversus identidem te 
 
 Spectat et audit. 
 Dulce ridejitem, misero quod omnit 
 Eripit sensus mihi ; nam simul te 
 Lesbia adspexi nihil est super mi. 
 
 (Voce relictum. ) 
 
 This version of Catullus, ingenious as it is, halts clumsily 
 over the I'cros Oeotcriv, and expands the two words into a 
 line and a half, with the foolish si fas est interpolated ; 
 while in other respects it serves but to show how airy 
 and evanescent is the charm of Sappho. The familiar 
 lines are far better — 
 
 Blest as the immortal gods is he, 
 The youth who fondly sits by thee ; 
 And hears and sees thee all the while 
 Softly speak and sweetly smile. 
 
 But her verse is like the plant mentioned by Milton, which 
 bore its " bright golden flower " only in its " own soil." 
 It is like the white Lesbian roses which are said to lose 
 their strange scent of honey when they are transplanted 
 elsewhere. 
 
SAPPHO. 
 
 113 
 
 One fragment of her music, sounding like a few soft 
 notes of an ^olian harp, is this : — 
 
 ' Ecnrepe iravra (fiipeK, oaa <f>aivo\,i<; eaKehaa-' avQ}<;- 
 ^epea oiv, (/)6/36ts aiya, (jiepeK fiarepi wdtSa. 
 
 Hesperus brings all things back 
 Which the day-light made us lack. 
 Brings the sheep and goats to rest, 
 Brings the baby to the breast. 
 
 It breathes of the calm island evenings, when Lesbos 
 lay shadowed upon the sleeping sea ; the star of dusk 
 gleaming upon her quiet villages, the vineyard-gates just 
 closed ; the flocks returning, the families gathering for 
 the homely meal and the happy sleep. 
 
 Another different echo from these long-silent strings is 
 the following, addressed to some Lesbian woman — a rival, 
 perhaps — ignorant of the joys of the Muses, dull and 
 vain. Over the grave of such an one Sappho has inscribed 
 this contemptuous epitaph : — 
 
 KaTOavolaa 8e Kelaeai, ovBe irore iwafioavva criOev 
 icrcrer' ovre tot ovt vaTepov ov lycup TreSevet? ^poBcov 
 Tcbv eic Utepia?, oKX' a(pavrj<; Kriv 'Atha BofiOK 
 <j)oiTd(reK TreS' afiaupSiV vbkuwv iKTreTroTafieva. 
 
 Thou liest dead, and there will be no memory left behind 
 Of thee or thine in all the earth, for never didst thou bind 
 The roses of Pierian streams upon thy brow ; thy doom 
 Is writ to flit with unknown ghosts in cold and nameless gloom. 
 
 I 
 
114 '^^^ POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 The subjoined might well describe her own eminence 
 among the poets and poetesses of Lesbos : — 
 
 ^Aarepe'i fiev afj,(j)v KcCKav aeXavav 
 ayfr a-rroKpinrTOiai (paevvov elSo?, 
 OTTiroT av TfKr)6oi(Ta fiaXiara Xdfnrr] 
 
 yav [eW Traaav] 
 dpyvpea. 
 
 The stars about the lovely moon 
 Fade back and vanish very soon. 
 When, round and full, her silver face 
 Swims into sight, and lights all space. 
 
 On many such a moonlight night she had wandered along 
 the sea by Mitylene; looking up the lovely gulf to the 
 Ionic hills, upon the far-off mainland of Asia. And not 
 alone, doubtless ; for though Sappho was, as we have 
 maintained, a true woman, she was no cold worshipper 
 of the Graces and the Loves. She loved, and loved 
 more than once, and loved to the point of desperate 
 sorrow ; though it did not come to the mad and fatal 
 leap from Leucate, as the unnecessary legend pretends. 
 There are, nevertheless, worse steeps than Leucate down 
 which the heart may fall ; and colder seas of despair 
 than the Adriatic in which to engulf it. We know not 
 whether the passion was prosperous or hopeless, serious 
 or slight, which is faintly chronicled thus : — 
 
 r^pajiav fxev iym (rkdev, 'Arffi, ttoKm Trore. 
 
 I loved thee, Atthis, dearly, 
 A long while ago. 
 
SAPPHO. 
 
 IIS 
 
 And thus again — 
 
 "Epo'; Brjvri fi 6 Xvo'i/ieXtj's Sovel, 
 ykvKviriKpov afid-xavov opirerov. 
 
 Love torments me once again, 
 Sweetly-bitter, sadly-dear. 
 Binds me with a rosy chain. 
 Hard to break, and hard to bear. 
 
 While these tender words, which paint a picture of two 
 lives, come, doubtless, out from the same ancient heart- 
 ache — 
 
 rXu/cejot fuiTep, ovtoi Swofiai ttpmriv top toToi', 
 trod^ Ba/ielaa TraiSo? ^paBivav Bi ' Aj>pohirav. 
 
 I ceinnot, s*eet my mother. 
 
 Throw shuttle any more ; 
 My heart is full of longing, 
 
 My spirit troubled sore, 
 All for a loye of yesterday, 
 
 A bay not seen before. 
 
 It seems that the Lesbian poetess excelled especially 
 in Epithalamia or Marriage Hymns, which Catullus 
 imitated in his " Peleus and Thetis," and other well-known 
 pieces. It would be hard, perhaps, to make such a sacri- 
 fice, but if we could have the Greek of Sappho back, who 
 would not gladly surrender to oblivion the Latin of the 
 Roman for it ! Into these compositions she seems to 
 have thrown all her rich and passionate soul, her love of 
 nature, her finest delicacy in phrase, her tenderest sense 
 of music, her indefinable and, so to speak, "lady-like" 
 grace of thought. Thus she speaks, in one fragment, 
 about the untouched beauty of the bride: — 
 
 I 2 
 
Il6 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 Olov TO jXvkvijLoKov ipevOerai aKpa eV ocrBq) 
 d/cpov STT aKpoTcira' XeXiiOovTO Be fioKoBpoTnje^, 
 oil fJMv eKKeXdOovT , a\X' ovk iBvvavr i(f)iKea-0ai. 
 
 \ 
 
 Grown to her rosy grace like the rose-apple, high on the branches, 
 Hanging highest of all — so high that the canker-worms miss it — 
 Nay, not " miss it," in truth, but cannot in any way reach it. 
 
 And again, in a little piece of broken sweetness, Sappho 
 thus speaks of the unhappy one whose life is lived in 
 loneliness and loveless solitude : — 
 
 Omv rav vaKivdov iv ovpeai iroLpAve^ dvSpe'i 
 iroaral Karaarel^oiai, j(afml Be re Trop(j)vpov dv6o<;. 
 
 Pines she like to the hyacinth out on the path by the hill-top ; 
 Shepherds tread it aside, and its purples lie lost on the herbage. 
 
 Then there are slighter echoes, fragmentary refrains of 
 gayer or more careless singing, such as this, directed 
 again at a rival : — 
 
 Tt? Tot ar/poiS)Ti<s ar^poiSniv eirefifjieva 
 
 aroXav . . . OeX/yei voov, 
 
 OVK ewLcrrapAva to, ^paKe ekKtjv eirl roiv <T(f)vpa)v ; 
 
 What country damsel charms thee 
 
 With country smock and face ? 
 Who knows not how to fasten, 
 
 A stole, nor step with grace. 
 
 And what a Greek love of life, what a " longing lingering " 
 thought of the " warm precincts " of that pleasant island 
 is audible in these half satirical words : — 
 
SAPPHO. 117 
 
 AiroQvdaKeiv KaKov 01 9eoi ryap ovtco KeKpiKoxriv 
 airedvao'Kov yap av, aiirep ^v koXov cuiroOvdcrKeiv. 
 
 To die must needs be sad, the gods do know it ; 
 
 For were death sweet, they'd die, and straightway show it. 
 
 Such are a few specimens of the singing which remain 
 to us from this unrivalled singer — the truest genius of all 
 the Greek lyric schools, whether Ionian, Dorian, or ^olian. 
 It may seem extravagant praise to say this of a poetess, 
 whose longest surviving work is but an ode or two of a 
 few verses in each ; while the rest of her musical work has 
 all vanished except detached lines, phrases, names, and 
 words. But the fragrance and the splendid tints of a rose- 
 garden can be guessed at by detached petals ; and he 
 that has the scholar's knowledge and the poet's ear and 
 heart, will never deny to Sappho the admiration which we 
 know she received from her countrymen and country- 
 women. There is nothing, let it be repeated, in the often 
 passionate expressions of her muse to justify the calumny 
 of those ancient critics. There is fire, there is fervour, 
 there is burning love ; but these are not crimes, nor 
 monstrosities. The same ugly and ignorant slander which 
 has branded an evil word upon the brow of Sappho, 
 might as well dare to do the same to Shakespeare because 
 of his sonnets, or to Tennyson on account of his solemn 
 " In Memoriam." Emphatically we repudiate the charge, 
 and repeat the assertion that Sappho was true to her 
 art and true to her womanhood. And if romance com- 
 plains to find that she never leaped at all from the fatal 
 promontory, and never wrote the elegant letter to Phaon 
 
I I 8 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 which Ovid has composed for her, there still remains, we 
 think, an image as stately, as graceful, as passionate, as 
 enchanting, and more noble in the Sappho which these 
 verses and this broken music recall, than in that sadder 
 fictitious Sappho whom poets or sculptors have pictured, 
 bending among the myrtles with her broken lyre at her 
 foot, before she sprang to her death in the blue grave of 
 the Saronic sea. 
 
THE IONIAN LYRISTS. 
 
 ANACREON. 
 
 If all that glitters with the name of Anacreon were real 
 Anacreontic gold, a great space would have to be devoted 
 to the poet of Teos. But his genius and style have been 
 made to stand godfathers to very many odes and poems 
 which were never written by him. The metres that 
 he invented or popularised are so simple and easily 
 managed, and his usual themes are so much within 
 the compass of ordinary inspiration, that a large volume 
 of spurious Greek verse has crystallised about the very 
 small nucleus of genuine Anacreontics. He is said to 
 have written five books of songs, of which sixty-eight are 
 presented to us as veritable remains of the poet. Very 
 few of these could pass the barrier of stern compa- 
 rative criticism. Some of them may be the production of 
 imitators almost as brilliant as the master; some may 
 have resulted from the not very secular labours of the 
 monks, who in the middle ages gave much attention to 
 the classical authors. But there are a few, obviously 
 from the master's hand, which convict the false preten- 
 ders by their greater grace and skill of versification, for 
 Anacreon was certainly a lyrist of the first order. There 
 is enough of his singing still extant to prove that his 
 
I 20 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 reputation among the Greeks, and the friendship enter- 
 tained towards him by Polycrates, was well deserved. 
 There is something extremely graceful, bright, and original 
 in the versicules of the Teian bard ; yet with their airy 
 sweetness there mingles also an occasional pathos — the 
 soft shadow of the glad sunshine of his spirit. In the 
 translations of Moore the English reader has this spirit 
 very aptly transmitted, for the genius of the Ionian and 
 Irish singers was almost identical. The praise of love, 
 of music, and of feasting engaged each ; and each had 
 that subtle-sweet power of sensuous language which seems 
 to sparkle with the colour of the wine, and to glow with 
 the warmth of the passion. The subjoined is as tender 
 and pretty as a plaque of Watteau painted on a Rose 
 du Barri jar of Sevres china : — 
 
 Jiipcoi; TTOT ev pooqiai 
 
 ovK elBev, aXX' erpmOr] 
 rov BaKTvXov. iraTavOel'i 
 Ta<; ')(elpa<; aoXaKv^ev 
 Bpa/Mav Se Kal TreracrOeli 
 7r/309 T^w KoKr/v Kv0i]prjv, 
 
 Love once among the roses 
 
 Perceived a bee reposing, 
 
 And wondered what the beast was, 
 
 And touched it, so it stung him. 
 
 Sorely his finger smarted, 
 
 And bitterly he greeted, 
 
 And wrung his hands together ; 
 
 And half he ran, half fluttered 
 
 Unto Cythera's bosom. 
 
 Unto his fair, sweet mother. 
 
ANACREON. 121 
 
 oXctfXa, firJTep, ehrev, 
 oKo)ka Kairo6vi]a'K(o. 
 6(^K fi ervyfre fiiKpo^ 
 
 7rT6j0O)TO9, OV KOXOVO'CV 
 
 (jjikuTTav oi yecopryoL 
 d 8' ehrev el to xevrpov 
 •jTovel TO TO? p,eXiTTa<;, 
 TToaov BoKeK ttovovctcv, 
 "EjOfB?, ocrovi (7V ^aXKea ; 
 
 Loud sobbed he, "Ai! ai! mother! 
 Olola ! I am murdered ! 
 Olola ! it has killed me ! 
 A small brown snake with winglets, 
 That men the bumble-bee call, 
 Has bit me. " But Cythera 
 Said, laughing, "Ah, my baby, 
 If bees' stings hurt so sorely. 
 Bethink thee what the smart is 
 Of those, Love, that thou piercest." 
 
 It seems that Anacreon generally, though by no 
 means always, wrote in this light and swift little measure 
 — admirably adapted to the banquet and the dance — 
 but so easily composed by a practical verse-maker, that 
 it must have bubbled from the lips of the old Teian like 
 Cyprus wine from a grey amphora. Here is just such a 
 chamonette as may have thus sprung into existence at a 
 moment's inspiration, within some Samian festal-hall ; 
 on some night, perhaps, when Polycrates unbent his brow 
 from toils of state, and called upon his Ionian laureate 
 for a defence of drinking : — 
 
 'iJ 75} fiekawa irivet,, 
 
 TTivei Se BevBpe avTrjv, 
 
122 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 iriveu daKa<Tc7 avavpov;, 
 6 8' ijXto? daXacraav, 
 Tov S' TjXbov (reKrjvr]. 
 Tb fioi fid'^eaff, eralpoi, 
 KaiiTm deXovri iriveiv; 
 
 The black earth tipples rain, 
 The earth is sucked by trees, 
 The seas the rivers drain, 
 The sun drinks up the seas ; 
 And the moon drinks the sun ; 
 Why, then, will any one 
 Contend with me, who think 
 That all the world should drink ? 
 
 It is said that' this votary of the wine-cup died at the 
 age of eighty-five, choked by a grape-stone. That mode 
 of dissolution seemed almost too apropos to be true ; but 
 he certainly lived to a great age, chirping out his light- 
 hearted Lieder, amid the turmoil of the revolt of Histiaeus, 
 and all kinds of other national and civic troubles. Remark 
 how merrily he bears the snows of approaching senility ! — 
 
 Aeyovcriv al lyvvaiKe^, 
 AvaKpecov, yepav el. 
 Xa/Sa)!/ etTOTTTpov adpei 
 KOfia'! fiev ovKer ova-a<;, 
 ilnXov Be aev fieTwirov. 
 eyob Se Ta<; KOfia^ fiev. 
 
 The women to me say, 
 
 ' ' Anacreon, you grow grey ! 
 
 Look in your glass, and see 
 
 Your hairs, how scantily 
 
 They flow — your brows are bare. " 
 
 Then I : "As for the hair. 
 
ANACREON. 123 
 
 etV ehriv elr aTnjXdov, 
 ovK olSa- TovTO S' olBa, 
 <B? TO) jepovTi fiaXKov 
 irperrei to Tepirvb, Tral^eiv, 
 Sera) TreXas t^ Moip'r)<;. 
 
 That may be, or may not, 
 I reck it not a jot ; 
 But this I know, indeed. 
 If I grow old, more need 
 To have ray fling of laughter, 
 ■ The sooner Fate comes after." 
 
 And if a grape-stone choked him, as is alleged, it must 
 have been because he tried, indomitable to the last in 
 his Greek gaiety, to sing while he was drinking. . 
 
SIMONIDES OF CEOS. 
 
 Grave and learned, discfeet atld nice, Simonides of Ceos, 
 of the same school and time with Anacreon, is his exact 
 contrast in literature. He was, like the Teian, a friend 
 of kings and rulers, but not because he sang to them at 
 their banquet-hours. He had Hipparchus at Athens for 
 his patron, and lived long enough to be intimate with 
 Themistocles and Pausanias. He reconciled the two 
 Sicilian monarchs, Hiero of Syracuse and Theron of Agri- 
 gentum, at the moment when their armies were opposed 
 in battle array. Finally, Plato calls him emphatically 
 "a wise man," and Cicero writes of Simonides, "Non enim 
 poeta solum mavis, verum etiam cseteroquin doctus sapi- 
 ensque traditur." He was a teacher of his art to Pindar, 
 and his somewhat triste and contemplative genius gave to 
 the word eXeyo'; that funereal signification which " elegy " 
 has ever since possessed. He invented, it is declared, four 
 letters of the Greek alphabet; but his chief reputation 
 arose from his epitaphs, which are sometimes remarkably 
 elegant and ingenious. He appears to have enjoyed a 
 quite unrivalled reputation for the couplets or verses 
 which the Greeks were wont to carve upon their trophies 
 and monuments. The fashion was to inscribe metrical 
 legends, generally a hexameter and pentameter ; and 
 Simonides is said to have carried the garland away from 
 .S^schylus himself in a competition for the verses to be 
 
SIMON IDES OF CEOS. 125 
 
 placed over the dead Greeks who fell in battle against the 
 Persians at Thermopyls. It is said that the subjoined 
 couplet was that which gained so great a distinction : — 
 
 /2 ^etv', a776\X«i' Aa/ceSai/xovioK otI raBe 
 Keifxeda roh Keivcov p-^fMocTi TreiBofjLevoi. 
 
 Go, stranger ! tell the Spartans here we lie, r~ 
 
 Faithful to death, because they bade us die. I 
 
 This which follows was dedicated to the Athenians who 
 died at Marathon : — 
 
 'EWi^vcov Trpofj.a'XpvvTe'! 'Adrjvaloi MapaOmvi 
 'Xpvcro^opav Mi]Eo)v etnopeaav Svvafiiv. 
 
 Athens at Marathon, in front of Greece, 
 
 Met the proud Mede, and made his boasting cease. 
 
 And this is one of another group of epitaphs, written for 
 the monumental erections with which the states of Hellas 
 commemorated the glorious repulse of the barbarian : — 
 
 MvpiouTiv irore Ta8e rptaKoa-iai'; ifj.d'xovTO 
 iic UekoTTOwdaov j(CkiaZe<; TeTope<!. 
 
 Here, with three hundred myriad Persians, fought 
 Four thousand Greeks from Peloponnesus brought. 
 
 These also were composed upon the same great event of 
 mingled sadness and gladness in Grecian history : — 
 
 El TO icaXci'i 6vrta-K6iv dpeTf}<; /tie/oo? eVrt fik^urrov, 
 rjfuv eK irdvTcov tovt iireveifie TV')(r)' 
 
 EWdSt jap a-TrevSovTei; ikevOepirjv trepideivai 
 K6i/ie6^ dyrjpdvrq) ■^^pw/ievoi evXoyiri. 
 
126 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 If a fair end be Virtue's chiefest glory, 
 To us of all men Fortune that gift gave, 
 
 Who, dying here, won an undying story. 
 
 Saving our dear land from the name of " slave." 
 
 ''Aa^e<nov icKeo'; o'ihe ^tkr) irepl irarpiBi divre'; 
 
 Kvdveov BavoLTOV a/i<f>e^akovTO ve<f)o<i, 
 ovBe redvacn 6av6vre<;, iirel a<j) dperr] KaOinrepOe 
 
 Kvhaivova dvar/et, Sd>fiaTO<; i^ 'Ai'Beco. 
 
 Here, giving all for Greece, her bravest children 
 
 Wrapped themselves from us in the dark death-wreath ; 
 
 Yet these dead are not dead, their virtue leads them 
 In glory upward from- the place beneath. 
 
 Ev/cXea? aia KSKevde, AeaviSa, o'l /xera crelo 
 rfjE' edavov, ^7rdpTr]<; evpv)(ppov ^ao-jXev, 
 
 •JT-Xetarav Srj to^cov re koX cokvttoSojv adevo<i "wirav 
 M-rjSelwv dvhpSiv Se^dfievoi. iroXifiq). 
 
 Glorious the soil that holds these Spartan men 
 
 Who died, Leonidas, for Greece with thee, 
 Not caring for the storm of javelins, 
 
 Nor all the thundering Persian cavalry. 
 
 Simonides was one of the most prolific writers known, 
 and the relics of his prodigious fertility are still numerous, 
 but for the most part not very remarkable. He had, 
 however, a vein of pathos and melancholy eloquence 
 which might be illustrated by more than one S'pecimen 
 of his remains; but his fame as the epitaph-maker of 
 Greece bears sufficient testimony to this sombre trait in 
 his genius. He could write stinging satire, too, upon a 
 tombstone; witness the distich which he dedicated to the 
 
SIMONIDES OF CEOS. 127 
 
 hapless memory of Timocreon of Rhodes, a sour poetaster, 
 who was greedy and scurrilous : — 
 
 HoKKa TTiwv KM iroXka (par/mv km TroWa kuk eitrcov 
 avOpdnrov; KeifiM TifioKpecov 'PoBbov. 
 
 With drink, meat, slander, fuddled fat and foul, 
 Timocreon of Rhodes lies in this hole. 
 
 It is said that Simonides grew avaricious and mer- 
 cenary towards the close of his life ; but the spirit of the 
 poet, refined and contemplative, does not seem to warrant 
 this; and antiquity is sometimes, as Sappho's instance 
 proves, an arrant slander-monger. It was he who gave 
 the famous answer about "the nature of God." Hiero, 
 King of Syracuse, asked him his opinion upon this pro- 
 blem, and Simonides demanded a day to reply, then 
 another, and another, and so put the king off till his 
 patience was worn out, when the poet explained himself 
 by saying, " The longer I think upon it, the farther off 
 appears the possibility of any true reply." This may 
 remind Sanskrit scholars of the definition which the Veda 
 gives of Brahm, viz., "Om" — that is to say, spoken silence, 
 the sound that the lips make in closing to say " nothing." 
 
BACCHYLIDES. 
 
 Of Ceos also, and the nephew of Simonides, this poet 
 had something of the grace and finish of his uncle, and 
 acquired reputation enough at the court of Hiero of 
 Syracuse to move the envy of Pindar himself A Dorian 
 manner pervades his writings, although his extraction was 
 Ionian. Something of the melancholy also which is visible 
 in his uncle's writings colours the verses of Bacchylides : 
 he is constantly repeating the despondent sentiment of 
 these lines : — 
 
 OvaTotcri firj <pvvat (jjepiarov, 
 fj.rjB' aeXiov irpo'siBetv ^eyyo';' 
 6X/8to? S ovSew ^porcov iravra 'xpovov. 
 
 'Twere best never to be, 
 
 Never sunlight to see, 
 
 For no man lives whose happiness endures. 
 
 One may see in such complaining music how the 
 child-like inclination of these early Greeks to live and 
 love and be happy within the delicious limits of their 
 climate and land, chafed at the grim interruptions of 
 wars and troubles, disease and death. The soft ^gean 
 and Sicilian airs, the fertility of Ceos, and the graceful 
 ease of Hiero's court, made this world very pleasant 
 to Bacchylides but for the shadow of such things. He 
 loves to sing, like Anacreon, of wine and roses ; and if 
 he could he would have placid joys and gentle music 
 
BA CCHYLIDES. I Sg 
 
 always embellishing life. Here is a piece of his verse, 
 as charming in sentiment and picturesque in detail as 
 Landseer's lovely parable in colours of "Peace," where 
 the little children play upon the grass on the cliff, and 
 the lamb nibbles daisies from the muzzle of the rusted 
 cannon. " Ah,3weet peace !" sings Bacchylides :— 
 
 Tt«T6t Se T6 QvaroLO'iv Elpdva fieyaXa 
 itTmvtov fieXtyTMO-a-cav r ootBav avOea, 
 Sai,Sa7i£0)V r inrl jSoa/i&v deoiaiv aWeaOai ^oStv 
 ^av6a ^Xoyl fifjpa TavvTpv)(asv re firj'kmv, 
 ryvfJivcuTUov re veoi,<i aiikSiv re koX kco/mo)v fieXeiv. 
 ev Be ffiSapoBiroif iropTra^iv alOav 
 apaj(yav Itrrol ireKovrai' 
 
 eyxed re Xoyxara ^i^ed r dfj-^dKe evpci)^ Sdfivarai,' 
 j(aXKeav S' ovxen traXTrvyycDV Krinro';. 
 
 Peace, potent Peace ! gives all good gifts to men, 
 
 The wealth of soft words, and the flower of song ; 
 
 The smoking on the ancient altar-tops 
 
 Of sheep in yellow flame of sacrifice ; 
 
 And in the towns and villages the shout 
 
 Of happy youth at play and exercise : 
 
 While helms and bucklers hang, and spiders weave 
 
 Their nets across the iron hollows of 'em ; 
 
 And the rust eats the sword-edge and the spear. 
 
 And horrid trumpets hush. 
 
MESOMEDES. 
 
 One name must be included, somewhat by anticipation, 
 in the catalogue of writers of lyric verse — that of Mesp- 
 medes the Cretan — for the sake of the wonderful, the 
 almost terrible poem which bears his authorship. Of the 
 poet nothing more is known than that he was, a freedman 
 of Hadrian, and therefore of a very late age in Greek 
 literature. Two of his epigrams only are extant, with 
 an invocation to Nemesis, the Goddess of Divine Equity 
 and Final Restitution. This latter piece paints that 
 dread deity — she who, in Greek belief, "wronged the 
 wronger, till he rendered right " — as no other passage 
 in Greek literature does. It runs as follows : — 
 
 Nef/i6ai TrrepoecTcra, ^lov poTra, 
 • KvavSiiri 6ed, Ovr^arep AiKa<;, 
 
 a Kovcpa (^pvcuyixara dvarwv 
 
 iire'^ei^ ahafiavTi '^aXivm, 
 e')(dovad S" v^piv okoav ^poraip 
 
 fxekava <f>66vov eWo? eXawet?. 
 
 Daughter of Justice, winged Nemesis ; 
 
 Thou of the awful eyes. 
 Whose silent sentence judgeth mortal life ! 
 
 Thou with thy curb of steel, 
 
 Which proudest jaws must feel, 
 Stayest the snort and champ of human strife ; 
 And, hating miserable pride of men, 
 Dost tame fierce hearts, and turn them meek agen. 
 
MESOMEDES. 
 
 'Ttto (70V rpo'xpv aaraTov, acm^rj 
 -Xapoira fiepoTTWv arpicperai, ^^(a, 
 "Krjdovcra he irap iroBa /SatWi?, 
 •yavpovfievov av'^iva /cXtVets* 
 vTTo irrjyyv ae\ ^iorov fierpei'; 
 ^uyiov fiera %et/3a Kparovcra. 
 
 Under thy wheel, unresting, trackless, all 
 
 Our joys and griefs befall ; 
 In thy full sight our secret things go on ; 
 
 Step after step thy wrath 
 
 Follows the caitiff's path. 
 And in his triumph breaks his vile neck-bone. 
 To all alike thou metest out their due. 
 Cubit for cubit, inch for inch — stern — true. 
 
 131 
 
 J 2 
 
THE "SKOLIA." 
 
 DiAGORAS, Praxilla, and Pythermas, are some out of many- 
 others which, being mere names, belong to the catalogue 
 of Hellenic poets, rather than to any critical sketch of 
 their style and works. But there arose a class of composi- 
 tion at this date which deserves allusion. It was an elegant 
 custom of the Greeks, at their festal repasts, especially in 
 the time of Pericles, to pass r9und the table from hand 
 to hand, after the serious business of the banquet was 
 over, a lyre or a branch of myrtle. Each person to whom 
 it came was expected to recite or sing, or to express at 
 least some agreeable sentiment, clothed in the language 
 of the Muses. Terpander is thought to have introduced 
 the fashion, which is first mentioned, however — at least of 
 the authors known to us — ^by Pindar and Aristophanes. 
 The word aKoXiof means " crooked," and might have been 
 applied to these vers de societe either because the metre 
 was dithyrambic and uneven for the most part (as might 
 well be the case, when unpractised guests were called 
 upon to improvise in rhythmic language), or else because 
 the manner was to pass the myrtle-branch irregularly 
 from one hand to the other ; part of the gaiety being, 
 doubtless, to surprise an unready guest, and thus enjoy 
 his confusion at being suddenly " knocked down " for 
 something brilliant in Doric or Ionic Greek. Sometimes, 
 however, great poets seized these occasions to produce 
 
THE "SKOLIA." 1 33 
 
 something really fine ; and many of such " impromptus " 
 — perhaps not always made without a little previous pre- 
 paration — are carefully preserved. A collection of them, 
 complete and fragmentary, has been made by the Prussian 
 critic, Ilgen, whereby the curious may fully study this 
 "literature of the Greek salon." For those who can be 
 contented with a few examples, we proceed to quote the 
 celebrated (tkoKmv of Callistratus, in honour of the 
 slayers of Hipparchus ; a song which was the Marseillaise 
 of Athens, and the very anthem of Revolution and 
 Liberty. It must have been at a circle of fiery young 
 Republicans, on some night of wild and patriotic talk, 
 that such a hymn as this answered to the challenge of 
 the myrtle-branch : — 
 
 Ev jxiprov kKoZX to ^t^o? ^oprjo-o), 
 &<nrep 'Apfju)Sio<s k 'Apia-royeirmv, 
 
 ore Tov Tvpawov KravkTrp) 
 
 uTOvofww T 'AOijvai; eiroiTjaaTrp). 
 
 ^tXraff 'ApfjLoBi, ov tL ttov Te6vr]Ka<s, 
 jr^ffOK S' ev fuucdpcov ae ^acriv elvai, 
 "va irep ttoBcokh]'} 'A'^tXev^, 
 TvBeiSrjv T6 i^xunv Aio/j/^Sea. 
 
 My sword I wreathe in a myrtle-spray, 
 Aristogeiton's and Harmodius' way ; 
 When they the king had valorously slain. 
 And made our Athens free and great again. 
 
 Ah, dear Harmodius ! but thou art not dead ; 
 Unto the Blessed Islands thou art sped ; 
 Where, as they say, swift-limbed Achilles is, 
 And Tydeus' son, the happy Diomed. 
 
134 ^^-^ POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 'Ev fivpTov icKahX to ^i^o<; (fjop'^aco, 
 wairep' Apfiohwi k ^ApiaToyeircov, 
 OT ^A6r)va[ri'; ev 6v(riat<; 
 avZpa Tvpavvov" Iirirap^ov i/caiveTrjv. 
 
 ^Ael d^mv KXeo'! kaaerai Kar aiav, 
 (jjiXraO^ ApjjLohio'i k Apicrroyei/rcov, 
 on Tov Tvpavvov KTavirrjv, 
 iaovofjbov; t 'A6-^va<; eiroi/qacuTriv. 
 
 My sword I wreathe in the myrtle-spray, 
 Aristogeiton's and Harmodius' way ; 
 When at the feast of Pallas those brave youths 
 The King Hipparchus gloriously did slay. 
 
 Ever and everywhere their fame shall be, 
 Aristogeiton and Harmodius ! 
 Because they killed the wicked king for us, 
 All to make this our Athens great and free. 
 
 The second o-koXiov best worthy citing is a soldier's 
 catch — rough, insolent, audacious, yet with music in it 
 of rare and masculine sort — such a song, in fact, as a 
 Cretan swash-buckler like its author Hybrias might 
 well have struck off at heat, when the "rosy wine had 
 done its deed." The good steel sword is my wealth ! he 
 sings : — 
 
 Srpoip')]. 
 "Eart fiot TrXovTO<; fj^yw; Bopv koI ^i(fio<;, 
 Koi TO KoXov Xaurrjlov •7rp6^rjij,a j^patTO^' 
 
 The wealth I have is my sword and spear. 
 And the fence I fight with, my buckler fair ; 
 With these, the lord of all, I go. 
 With these I plough, with these I sow ; 
 
THE "SKOLIA." 135 
 
 TOVTCp yap apS>, tovtco 6epi^(o, 
 
 TOUTft) Trareo) tov aSiiv olvov air afi-rriXxo' 
 
 TovTO) Sea-TTora? /LtT/wict? KeKkrjfiai. 
 
 ^ AvTi,aTpo^rj. 
 
 Kal TO Kokov Xaiaijiov, irpo^rjfia ')(pmTO<;, 
 
 TTcii'Te? yovv ireiTTTfSiTe'i afibv 
 
 KvvevvTi T6 Bea-n-orav 
 
 Koi fieyav ^acnXrja ifxaviovTef. 
 
 With these I tread the sweet red wine 
 From grapes and vats tliat never were mine ; 
 With these, albeit no varlets I fee, 
 Wherever I come, men lackey me. 
 
 For the knaves are afeard of sword and spear, 
 And the fence I fight with, my buckler fair ; 
 And so at my knees they humbly fall, 
 Bringing me all and giving me all ; 
 And they fawn upon me because of my sword, 
 And because of my spear they call me lord ; 
 For wealth unbounded is sword and spear. 
 And the fence that I fight with, my buckler fair. 
 
 Here is a specimen of these table songs, which might 
 have been produced when philosophers sate together at 
 a light and learned feast : — 
 
 la e^v oiroioi; rt? ijv e/catrro? 
 TO a-TTjOo^ BieXovT, eirecTa tov vow 
 icnSovra, KkelaavTa iraXiv, 
 avSpa ipiXov vo/jui^eiv aSoXw (f>pevL 
 
 If it only were right, how delightful 'twould be. 
 
 To open the breast of a friend ; 
 And peep at his heart, and replace it again, 
 
 -And believe in him then without end. 
 
136 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 And here another, which Alcibiades might have mur- 
 mured into the ear of Aspasia when philosophers were 
 far away : — 
 
 5'w /tot -nlve, avvri^a, awepa, avaTe<^avr]^6pei, 
 (Tvv fioi fiaivofiev^ fialveo, avv crdi(j}povi a-co<j}p6v€t. 
 
 Drink from my cup, Dear ! live my life — be still 
 Young with my youth ! have one heart, viford, and will, 
 One love for both ; let one wreath shade our eyes 5 
 Be mad when I am — wise when I am wise. 
 
ERINNA. 
 
 The wearer of this famous and melodious name was 
 the pupil and the friend of Sappho. She was one of 
 those Lesbian maidens who learned the secrets of song 
 from the great poetess, and the little by which we can 
 judge of her genius, together with the praise which her 
 mistress gave her, and the admiration with which she is 
 mentioned by the critics of antiquity, combine to make 
 it seem that she might have been in time a rival of the 
 renowned Lesbian. But she left the harsh weather of this 
 lower life at eighteen, before the flower of her genius 
 was full-blown. A tender epitaph, which her hand in- 
 scribed upon the funeral urn of a fellow learner in the 
 school of Sappho, is a becoming memorial of herself, 
 and musical as her sweet name. A sad fragrance lingers 
 about it, like that of a dead violet, blown in the brief 
 sunshine, and killed by the first wind of March : — 
 
 Nv/i<j>a<; BavxiSo^ ififii' irdkvicKaxn-av Se irapepTraiv 
 OToKav, tS Kara ya<; tovto \eyoi,<} ^AtBa' 
 
 " Bd(rKavo<; eair , 'AtSa" to, Se rot KaXa aafuiiff op&vri 
 mfwraTav BavKOV'i arf^ekiovrt TV')(a,v, 
 
 I am the urn of Baucis ! Look down low, 
 Past urn and stone, and say to Death thereunder, 
 
 "Thou art a cheat, O, Death !" Then turn and know 
 From these fair griefs inscribed what horrid wonder 
 
138 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 tL? rav iralK, 'Tfievaio<; e<^' ah deiSero Trev/cat?, 
 raicrS' iirl /caSeura? e^Xeye irvpKalS.' 
 
 Koi (TV fiev, 03 'Tfievaie, ydficov fj.oX7ralav doiSdp 
 6? OprjVMV joep&v <p6ejfia fieOap/xoaao. 
 
 The juggler wi'ought : how, when the lamps were lighted 
 For marriage, he did turn the bed to bier. 
 
 Lit it therewith, and made Hymen, affrighted, 
 Change bridal songs to sound of sob and tear. 
 
ARION. 
 
 Herodotus tells a story of this poet, which makes him 
 the very Jonah of literature. He was thrown overboard 
 by sailors,, like that prophet ; but a dolphin, charmed by 
 his exquisite music, took him upon its back, and carried 
 him safely to shore. Modern interpreters think that 
 the " whale " of the Biblical story was but a Phoenician 
 ship, called by such a name, and " bound outward " from 
 Tyre or Sidon, which picked up Jonah, a derelict, at 
 sea; and possibly the legend of Arion on the dolphin's 
 back would come to this — if we knew the truth — that 
 a vessel of Sicily gave him a free passage, on condition, 
 as is often done now-a-days, that he should supply the 
 crew with music on the voyage. Thus the poet would 
 emerge from the fog of fable which obscures him now, 
 and we might recognise in him no mythical bestrider of 
 fishes, but a simple citizen of Methymna, uncommonly 
 skilful in lyre-playing, and especially remarkable for the 
 development which he gave to the dithyramb. This, in 
 its ancient form, was probably a wild chant in praise of 
 the Indian Bacchus — a loud, excited, and half-articulate 
 succession of cries, like the "hymn" of the Mohurrum 
 among the Islamites, or the monotonous shouts of the 
 dancing dervishes. Arion reduced the short phrenetic 
 measure to ordered music, keeping its characteristics of 
 
14.0 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 swift emotion, but supplying graces of art and language 
 to the altered dithyramb, which he employed to narrate 
 the adventures of the various gods. The verses which he 
 thus composed were sung by dancers, who held hands, 
 and paced or whirled round the altars of the temples at 
 Corinth, where the inventor's skill had made him the 
 favourite of Periander, the ruler of the City of Two 
 Seas. The following fragment of such a choral song — 
 chanted many a time, doubtless, by the Saronic Gulf in 
 praise of Poseidon — may serve to represent the manner 
 of Arion : — 
 
 Xpvaorplaive IlocreiSov, 
 
 yai'^oy^^e, Kv/Mvdp'^a. 
 
 fipar/'^wi irepX Sk ae TrXarot Brjpe^ 
 
 •Xppevova-iv iv kvkKw, 
 
 Kov^oiai irohSiv pifx,/Ma<nv 
 
 i\a<})pa avairoKXofievoi' 
 
 a-bfioL, cj}pi^av)(ive<;, 
 
 WKvSpofioi aKvkaKe<;, 
 
 <})iKo/iovaov BeXcpive'}, 
 
 evdXa Ope/M/Mara tcovpav 
 
 Mighty Master of the ocean ! 
 Neptune of the golden trident ! 
 Oh, Earth-shaker ! oh, Storm-maker ! 
 Gilled things, snorting, slimy, strident, 
 Glide about thee in a ring 
 Winnowing fins with rapid motion ; 
 Fish with beaks and fish with backs 
 Bristly, and the dog-fish packs ; 
 
ARION. 141 
 
 N7jpr)iBa>v Oedv, 
 
 &? ir/eivaro 'AfJufiiTpiTa, 
 
 Silvery dplphins dear to song, 
 With the salt-sea maids that throng, 
 Scale-tailed Nereids, one with other, 
 Whereof Amphitrite was mother. 
 
THE DORIAN LYRISTS. 
 
 ALCMAN. 
 
 The Dorian genius and dialect did not lend themselves 
 readily to the softer muses, but these brilliant schools of 
 ^olic and Ionic singers had rivals, nevertheless, of no 
 mean merit in the cities and islands which looked to 
 Sparta as their centre. Yet it is notable that the greatest 
 master of the Doric lyre was a Lydian, and probably a 
 slave. Alcman was born at Sardis, about 680 B.C., and 
 was a Lacedemonian only by residence at Sparta in the 
 house of his master Agesidas. His talent procured him 
 freedom at a time when the Dorian races were in a 
 state of peace — very rare with them — and therefore at 
 leisure to listen to the notes of this Asiatic bird which 
 they had caught and tamed. It is observable that many 
 o f the artistic celebrities of antiquity were originally slaves, 
 a fact which probably arose from the use which their 
 owners made of them as amanuenses, singers, musicians, 
 and the like. Alcman never forgot the Eastern home 
 which he had left ; but he was proud of his Spartan 
 reputation notwithstanding. Thus he sings : — 
 
 SapSte<;, ap')(cuo^ Trareprnp vo/MO'i, el fiev iv v/uv 
 iTpe^ofiav, Kepva'i rjv Tt? av fj ^aKeka's 
 
ALCMAN. 143 
 
 ')(pv(70(popo'i, prjcaaiv KaXa rvfnrava' vvv Se jxoi 'A\K/j,av 
 ovvofia Kal XTrdpra^ elfil TroXvTpi-iroSo';, 
 
 KoX Movawi iBdrjv 'EXiKcoviSwi, au fie Tvpavvav 
 OrjKav Aaa-Kxikeoa jMeitpva Kal rvyao). 
 
 Sardis, my father's city ! had my fate 
 
 So willed, by this time I were priest in thee, 
 
 Gold-robed, beating the drum ; now I am great 
 As Alcman, and a Spartan known and free. 
 
 And Heliconian Muses make my name 
 
 Higher than Gyges of Dascylium. 
 
 In truth, the Oriental airs of Alcman and the stern 
 character of Doric speech and manners were strange 
 things to be mingled. His ardent love songs and soft 
 passages of lyric verse grew upon the trunk of Spartan 
 history much like the leaves and berries of the mistletoe 
 upon oak. So far as we can judge of Alcman, he was 
 a genuine poet, inspired by a love of nature remark- 
 able amid his race and time — a thinker, a moralist, and, 
 in an Eastern minstrel's way, even a philosopher. Among 
 the numerous but very fragmentary relics of the Slave 
 of Agesidas, the subjoined is one which shows a poet's 
 sense of the awful calm of nature during some still and 
 moonless midnight : — 
 
 EvSovaiv S' opecov Kopv^ac re Kal (pdpar/ye'; 
 •TTpcoove^ re Kal ^(apdhpai, 
 (pvXa T6 epirerd ff' ocraa rpeipet fiekaiva yaia, 
 dfjpev T opeaKMOi 
 
 The mountain brows, the rocks, the peaks are sleeping. 
 Uplands and gorges hush ! 
 
 The thousand moorland things are stillness keeping ; 
 The beasts under each bush 
 
144 
 
 THE POSTS OF GREECE. 
 
 Kcbt 'fivo'i fieKuj-ffwv 
 
 Kal KvcoBaXa iv ^evdeai 7rop(j}vpa<; a\o9. 
 
 evSovatv 8' olasvmv <^vKa ravuvrepvyav. 
 
 Crouch, and the hiv&d bees 
 
 Rest in their honied ease ; 
 
 I' the purple sea fish lie as they were dead, 
 
 And each bird folds his wing over his head. 
 
 It is disputed whether, in a certain fragment, this 
 writer has called Memory {Mvafia) " back-glancing " {iraXl 
 hopKo<s), or {(j>paa-i BopKosi), the " eye of the mind." Either 
 epithet would show the dawn of that reflective and meta- 
 physical poesy which we shall have to notice hereafter. 
 A large portion of the songs of Alcman were classed and 
 called " Parthenia," or "Songs for Maidens;" but only a 
 few incoherent phrases or lines survive of these famous 
 compositions, which were once recited in all the Dorian 
 temples, and which certainly must have been tender and 
 charming, coming from the heart and lips of this accom- 
 plished lyrist. 
 
STESrCHORUS. 
 
 Stesichorus was the contemporary of Alcman ; but born 
 at Himera, in Sicily, a lovely southern city half Dorian 
 and half Ionian, which produced many singers, and two 
 of this name. His original cognomen appears to have 
 been Tisias, and that of Stesichorus, which means " Choir 
 Leader," or " Choir Stayer," may have been conferred 
 because he seems to have introduced the " Epode," a verse 
 of the choral song chanted about the altars, in which the 
 dancers or worshippers stayed their movements for awhile 
 instead of passing round to right or left. Pindar and 
 the Tragedians adopted the innovation, so that it must 
 not be regarded as unimportant. Stesichorus also wrote 
 epithalamia, and lyric poems, into which ancient legends 
 were worked ; imitated, probably, by Pindar in his fourth 
 " Pythian," where the adventures of the Argonauts are 
 recited. We have many titles of these productions, but 
 very little of the texts. His " Europiad," which detailed 
 the voyages and deeds of Cadmus, would be a welcome 
 trouvaille of antiquity — if anybody could light upon it 
 under the lily roots at Himera — for the sake of poesy 
 less perhaps than of its legendary lore. Quintilian, 
 indeed, speaks with enthusiasm of the artistic power of 
 Stesichorus, but blames him for diffuseness and excess 
 of imagery. Only scanty material survives to us for a 
 
146 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 review of the critic's decision; and, as the Himera 
 singer has himself written — 
 
 arekioTwra Srj, km afidj((iva tov<; Bavovra^ KKaleiv. 
 
 It is idle and helpless to sigh for the dead. 
 
IBYCUS. 
 
 Ibycus of Rhegium is remembered more for his death 
 
 than his life. He was a poet who lovtd Nature, and the 
 
 natural objects. which jnake life gay and populous; but 
 
 cruel men waylaid the singer upon one of his lonely 
 
 wanderings, and murdered him. As he bled to death, 
 
 without any hope of the detection and punishment of 
 
 his assassins, a flock of cranes passed overhead, and 
 
 bent their flight near to him. " Be my witnesses, birds," 
 
 the dying poet cried, " and make known these wicked 
 
 murderers." Some time afterward the villains were at 
 
 Corinth together, where Ibycus was daily expected. 
 
 The poet did not come, but a certain man, one of his 
 
 friends, heard one assassin whisper to another, when a 
 
 flight of cranes settled near to them, " Ah ! here are 
 
 the witnesses of Ibycus ! " They were arrested, put to 
 
 the torture, and, upon confession, punished for their 
 
 crime with death. This story, true or not, was as 
 
 familiar to Dorian boys and girls as the tale of Robin 
 
 Redbreast is with ours. It has given to the Rhegian 
 
 singer more enduring fame than his verses could, for 
 
 very few of them exist. Yet, in the following example, 
 
 there is not only richness of epithet, but the apparent 
 
 effort at a new style of song writing, in which rhyme 
 
 was to play its part — a striking innovation : — 
 
 K 2 
 
148 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 Tov fiev TreraXoicnv iir aKporaTOiacv 
 ^avOal iroiKLkai alo\68eipoi 
 iraviKoire'i 6' aKi-irop^vpihe^ re koX 
 aXKVove'i Tavvaiirrepoi. 
 
 On the topmost height of the tree a flight 
 
 Of painted finches did sit' and sing, 
 With sea-birds and land-birds in plumage bright, 
 
 And halcyons azure, and long of wing. 
 
 It describes either a piece of jeweller's work, or a real 
 tree or plant ; but there is an " assonant rhyme " about the 
 lines which seems to foreshadow the monkish style of 
 later ages, such as, for instance, that Latin song — 
 
 "Ave, cujus calcem dare 
 Nee centenni commendare 
 Sciret Seraph studio." 
 
 However, if Ibycus had it in his soul to invent the 
 new beauty of rhymed verse, the highwaymen spoiled 
 his design ; and his own sad words are very true : — 
 
 ovK. ecTTiv aTro^Otfievoi'; ^ojas en (pdpflaKov evpeiv. 
 
 The dead are done with care and cure. 
 
LASUS. 
 
 Only two lines remain from Lasus the dithyrambic poet 
 of Hermione in Argolis, but he must be mentioned with 
 some respect, if it be true, as alleged, that he helped 
 to teach Pindar the art of verse, and was the first who 
 won the crown at the Olympic Games for dithyrambs. 
 His two surviving lines have a peculiar claim to be 
 quoted, as they are specimens of the dislike which Lasus 
 had for the letter sigma — the Greek S. 
 
 AajxaTpa /AeXirco Kopav re KXvfievoio aXo^op MeXl^oiav, 
 vjjLvoav avar/a)v AloKih^ dfj,a ^apv^pofiov dpfwviav. 
 
CORINNA. 
 
 This poetess was a native of Tanagra in Boeotia, and she 
 must have been no mean singer, if it be true, as is alleged, 
 that she four times wrested the prize of song from the 
 great Pindar himself. There is nothing extant to account 
 for this high triumph, or only a few incoherent fragments, 
 quoted here and there by Apollonius, Hephaestio, and 
 others. Thus it is at least possible, as certain mi-schievous 
 authors report, that the beauty of Corinna had more 
 effect upon the mind of her judges than her verses. 
 
TELESILLA. 
 
 Of this daughter of the Muses also there is next to 
 nothing remaining; but she deserves to be remembered 
 as a singer for her virtues as a woman.. When the Lace- 
 daemonians killed their Argive prisoners in the temple, 
 and advanced to the city to take it and put the in- 
 habitants to the sword, Telesilla summoned her country- 
 women to resistance, and, placing an Argive's helmet upon 
 her long black hair, she led forth the girls and matrons 
 of the place against the enemy. The Spartans, seeing 
 this extraordinary host, halted, and finding that Telesilla 
 was seriously bent on fighting, they turned round and 
 marched back to their camp, considering it — so says Pau- 
 sanias — a desperate thing to fight with an army of females, 
 since to vanquish them would be no honour, while to be 
 vanquished would seem an intolerable disgrace. The 
 only echo which survives of this heroic Argive poetess 
 is a fragment of what seems to have been a hymn in 
 honour of Diana : — 
 
 'A S' ''ApT6/Mi<; a> Kopat 
 (pevyocaa rov AXcpeov. 
 
 Diana — listen, girls ! 
 Flying from Alpheus' love. 
 
 It is fitting that, as the one deed reported of her was 
 noble, so the one verse should be in praise of purity. 
 
152 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 They made her a statue in the Temple of Venus, but 
 Argos should have known better : her fair face beneath 
 the plumed helmet, her figure with the lyre in one hand 
 and the brazen spear in the other, belonged rather to 
 the shrine of Pallas, or of her white mistress Diana. 
 
PINDAR. 
 
 " The great Emathian conqueror," as Milton writes, " bid 
 spare " the house of Pindar at Thebes ; and Time, which 
 conquers conquerorii, has not been less lenient to the 
 fame of the most celebrated of Greek lyrical poets. 
 Enough remains of his voluminous compositions to make 
 us comprehend, and in great part confirm, the enthusiastic 
 judgment which Greece passed upon the laureate of her 
 national games. The life of Pindar passed as an ideal 
 poetic life. He was the cherished s!nger of his time, the 
 " Master of Music," welcome in every city and court. 
 Great kings, like Arcesilas of Gyrene and Amyntas of 
 Macedonia, were glad to be his friends ; states voted him 
 public receptions ; rich citizens implored the honour of 
 his visits ; Athens made him proxenns, or " public guest ;" 
 and Ceos, though well supplied with her own poets, paid 
 him sumptuously for a choral prayer written on the occa- 
 sion of an island festival. His long and honoured career 
 was one continuous fete ; he passed from town to town, 
 paying for everything with his rich gift of song ; and when 
 he died at a ripe age, wearied with fame and admiration, 
 his descendants at Thebes were allowed many privileges 
 simply because they bore his name ; while the much- 
 prized crowns of the games ceased to be so highly valued 
 when Pindar's rapid and resonant verses no longer made 
 the laurel-leaves immortal. 
 
1^4 ^^•2' POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 Such a career could not have fallen to any but a 
 remarkable man ; for kings cannot make poets by patron- 
 age, and Greece, besides, was critical. Yet the judgment 
 of Horace upon Pindar sounds high-flown and extravagant, 
 for he vows the Theban poet to be " unapproachable — 
 a Dircean swan singing and soaring out of sight in the 
 clouds." It is true that the Roman does not base this 
 appreciation of the Greek upon the poems we now 
 possess. The " Epinicia," or " songs of victory," which 
 have come down to us, are precisely those compositions 
 which Horace puts in the background ; while he speaks 
 with boundless enthusiasm of the Paeans, Dithyrambs, 
 and Parthenia of the lyrist. 
 
 Nor is it reasonable to believe that Pindar's muse is 
 best represented in these congratulatory odes. His fiery 
 and vivid spirit found a rare delight, doubtless, in the 
 themes suggested by the contests of the Olympic, 
 Isthmian, Nemean, and Pythian games, and there are 
 many passages where the anapsests of Pindar truly fly 
 with the flash of the chariot-wheels, and are full of 
 all the life and splendour that stirring thoughts and 
 burning energy can impart to speech. But, on the 
 other hand, these odes were written " to order " by 
 him as the laureate of the Greek games, and we know 
 that genius cannot play the courtier without loss. No 
 doubt we owe their preservation, where so much is 
 lost, to the pride of those families that boasted any 
 hero commemorated by the poet. Greeks descended 
 from a victor upon whose head Pindar had laid the 
 leaves of coronal would obviously preserve the verses 
 
PJNDAR. 
 
 ISS 
 
 written by him as sacred family archives. Thus a 
 hundred lips would be familiar with such odes, while 
 the statelier and more solid pieces have disappeared. 
 
 Still, in these " official " singings there is nothing venal 
 or unworthy. Pindar always, or nearly always, writes 
 like a poet, full of the dignity of his calling. He does 
 not fear to reprove monarchs for tyranny or injustice, 
 and he extracts from nearly every flower of mythology 
 which he weaves into his verse the honey of the moral 
 that virtue is the only good. His countrymen, to their 
 shame, had taken part with the Persians in the recent 
 invasion of Hellas. He never extenuates this treason, 
 but ardently praises those who fought and fell at Salamis 
 and Plataea. 
 
 As for the rhythm, the music, of these renowned 
 triumphal chants, let it be frankly said that there is 
 none at all, at least for modern eyes and ears. Pindar 
 is printed according to the fancy of his editor; for, ex- 
 cepting the divisions of strophe and antistrophe, and a 
 certain vague sort of recurring cadence now and then 
 recognisable, nobody can tell where the lines should 
 begin and end. Had we the Lydian or Dorian measures 
 extant to which such odes were sung at the festival, 
 some light might fall upon the versification of the poet ; 
 but as it is, the stanzas of Mr. Walt Whitman, the 
 American dithyrambist, are not more wild and appa- 
 rently lawless than Pindar's. As for the plan of these 
 "Epinicia," it is for the most part simple and uniform. 
 There comes first a eulogy of the particular victor in 
 the games; next honorific allusions to his family; then 
 
156 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 praise of his place of birth ; and lastly, pious allusions 
 to the gods and goddesses who preside over the fes- 
 tivities. Pindar diversifies the method of this quadru- 
 partite encomium with legends and traditions, counsels 
 and maxims — sometimes with personal allusions and 
 deliverances. In these it must be avowed that the in- 
 attentive student becomes here and there hopelessly 
 lost ; there is a wild Olympic dust raised now and then 
 by the rush of his fancy, wherein the meaning grows 
 utterly obscure. His rapid course takes him sometimes 
 flying, as it were, away from the goal, instead of neatly 
 ■ rounding it, as his victors were trained to do. Thus 
 Pindar is decidedly "hard reading," and unattractive to 
 many ; although, when the winding channel of his verse 
 is faithfully followed, exquisite expressions and rich 
 beauties of style and thought reward the scholar, who 
 will never doubt that Pindar was of the first order 
 of lyrical singers, when he has once mastered the 
 peculiar manner and caught the poetic " aroma " of 
 the man. 
 
 It is next to impossible to translate Pindar ; the 
 perfume of his genius evaporates in handling. There is 
 a charm completely sui generis about his diction which 
 disappears in the act of exhibition like the stars and 
 patterns of melting snow-flakes. Perhaps Heber suc- 
 ceeded as well as any in this dangerous task, and the 
 subjoined " Olympian," with his version of it, may con- 
 vey something of the character of the famous Theban's 
 style. It is the triumphal hymn to Psaumis of Cama- 
 rina, conqueror in the chariot race : — 
 
J'J.VDAJi. 
 
 157 
 
 EKarrjp vweprare /Spov- arp. 
 
 rdf uKa/xavTOTToBo';, 
 Zev' real yap Tlpat 
 wo '7roi,KiKo(f}op/j,iyyo^ aoi- 
 oi? eXtcrcrofieval //,' eTrefi^av, 
 
 v\{rrj\oTdTcov fiiiprvp aed\o3V 
 ^eivcov S ev TrpaacrovTuiv, ecra- 
 vav avriK ayyeklav 
 irorl yXvKeiav iaXor 
 aXX\ S) Kpovov iral, o<s Airvav e-)(ei,^, 
 Virov rjvefioecra-av eKaToyKe(f)dXa 
 Tucj)a)i>o^ ofi^pifwu, 
 OuXv/iTTioviKav Bexev 
 Xapircov bkuti tovSe Kwfiov, 
 
 ')(povi,j>TaTov (pdo^ eu- ion. 
 
 pvcrOevetov dperav. 
 
 Oh, urging on the tireless speed 
 Of Thunder's elemental steed, 
 Lord of the world, Almighty Jove ! 
 Since these thine hours have sent me fortl. 
 The witness of thy champions' worth. 
 And prophet of thine olive grove ; 
 And since the Good thy poet hear, 
 And hold his tuneful message dear ; 
 Satumian Lord of Etna hill ! 
 Whose storm-cemented rocks encag. 
 The hundred-headed rebel's rage ; 
 Accept with favourable will 
 The Muses' gift of harmony ; 
 The dance, the song, whose numbers high 
 Forbid the hero's name to die, 
 A crown of life abiding still ! 
 
 Hark, round the car of victory, 
 Where noble Psaumis sits on high. 
 The cheering notes resound ; 
 
I 58 THE POETS OF GREECE 
 
 6)(e(ov 09, iXaia crTe<pavco- 
 ^et? Hiadm^i, kvSo'; opaab 
 
 airevhei, KafutpLva. 6eov €V(f)ptdv 
 ei7] Xonrals ev')(aZ<i- eirec 
 fMV alvlo), jiaXa fxev 
 TpocpaK eroi/jLov iTTTraiv, 
 ■^aipovTo, re ^ei/tat? iravhoKOK, 
 Kol •jrpo<; acrvyiav (piXoTToXcv Kadapa 
 lyvcofjLa Terpa/xfievov. 
 ov T|reu8et re^^w Xoyov. 
 hMireipd Toi ^poT&v eXeY)(^o<;- 
 dwep KXvfJLevoLO Tralha 
 AafividBcov yvvaiKCOv 
 eXvaev e^ wrifjuia^. 
 ■)(aKKeoicn 8' eV evreai viKuv hponov, 
 
 Who vows to swell with added fame 
 His Camarina's ancient name ; 
 
 With Pisan olive crown'd. 
 And thou, oh father, hear his prayer ! 
 For much I praise the knightly care 
 
 That trains the warrior steed : 
 Nor less the hospitable hall 
 Whose open doors the stranger call ; 
 Vet, praise I Psaumis most of all 
 
 For wise and peaceful rede, 
 And patriot love of liberty. 
 What ? do we weave the glozing lie ? 
 Then whoso list my truth to try, 
 
 The proof be in the deed ! 
 To Lemnos' laughing dames of yore, 
 Such was the proof Ernicus bore. 
 
 When, matchless in his speed. 
 All brazen-arm'd the_ racer hoar. 
 Victorious on the applauding shore, 
 
 Sprang to the proffer'd meed ; 
 
IS9 
 
 eenrev T-^oirvKeia, fiera crrei^avov laiv 
 o5to9 €70) ra-)(VTaTf 
 ;y;6i/3£? Se koX ^rop taov. 
 (jivovrai Se Koi v6oi<i 
 ev dvBpaaiv TroXtat 
 dafia, KoL irapa tov akiifia^ 
 iotKora ■)(povov. 
 
 Bow'd to the queen his wreathed head : 
 " Thou seest my limbs are light," he said ; 
 
 ' ' And, lady, mayst thou know, 
 That every joint is firmly strung. 
 And hand and heart alike are young ; 
 Though treacherous time my locks among 
 ■ Have strew'd a summer snow !" 
 
 Heber's Poems. 
 
THE LATER ORPHIC POETS. 
 
 While the epic strains of Homer and Hesiod had melted 
 off into these many elegiac and lyric echoes, the mystical 
 poems of Orpheus and his followers found their later 
 imitators. Under the name of " Orphic verses " are now 
 grouped many fragmentary productions of various Greek 
 sages, loftier in inspiration than most of the slight pieces 
 hitherto quoted. Cercops and Onomacritus were two 
 of these Orphic singers. The former developed the 
 principle of Orpheus in a poem called " Sacred Legends;" 
 the latter, a friend of Pisistratus, made, at the statesman's 
 request, a collection of the oracular sayings of Musseus. 
 Following these in a long and serious stemma came the 
 philosophic poets Xenophanes, Empedocles, Parmenides, 
 and the Pythagoreans. The examination of the remains 
 of these writers would lead the present conspectus 
 away from its purpose of naming, estimating, and lightly 
 acquainting the reader with the poets of Greece in their 
 poetic rather than philosophic character. The pen would 
 be tempted, by the great themes opened by such frag- 
 ments, to wander into those metaphysical regions where 
 the horizon is infinity. That these poets had boldness 
 may be judged by the lines in which Xenophanes 
 derides even the honours of the Olympian games in com- 
 parison with wisdom. Not even the victory of ira/^Kpamov, 
 he says, is to be compared to philosophy. 
 
THE LATER ORPHIC POETS. l6l 
 
 pmixr)'^ <yap afielvcov 
 avBpmv ^S' nnrcov fifierefyq ao^vt). 
 
 Our lore 
 Than strength of athlete and of steed is more. 
 
 This poet blames the Colophonians, his countrymen, for 
 their luxury and effeminate manners with severity and 
 fearless freedom, as well as a certain sarcastic humour. 
 One of his elegiac relics is a curious expression of the 
 belief of Pythagoras in transmigration : — 
 
 jKttt TTore fjjiv orvcfieTu^ofJievov aicv'Kaico'i irapiovTa 
 (paaiv iiroiKTeipai, koX roBe (^dadat eTro<;' 
 
 Uavaai, fir]Be pdwi^', iireir) (jjiXov dvepo<; earl 
 "^"XV' "^h^ eyvcov (f>6ey^a/j,ivT}<; aimv. 
 
 Going abroad, he saw one day a hound was beaten sore ; 
 
 Whereat his heart grew pitiful : " Now beat the hound no more ! 
 Give o'er thy cruel blows," he cried ; "a man's soul verily 
 
 Is lodged in that same crouching beast — I know him liy the cry." 
 
 Parmenides, the disciple and philosophic heir of 
 Xenophanes, set pantheistic metaphysics to verse 'in a 
 poem entitled -jrepl (f>v(Teco<;. Lucretius has borrowed from 
 him, and might do so without blushing at the mention 
 of his creditor, for the poetry of the Elean was of a 
 high order. His name is rendered immortal by the 
 dialogue which Plato has consecrated to it, and that 
 which we know of him helps to prove that he deserved 
 the honour of figuring in those stately pages as the 
 "philosophic poet" par excellence. 
 
 Empedocles was another and the greatest of these 
 later " Orphics ; " philosopher, poet, and historian in one^ 
 
1 62 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 the pride of Agrigentum ; and, if the tale be true that 
 he perished in the eruption of Etna, doubtless an over- 
 ardent natural philosopher to boot. Indeed, we know 
 that he was a man of science, for he drained marsh- 
 lands, practised medicine, cured madness and passion 
 by music, and was even said to have restored a dead 
 woman to life. Such attributions disclose the experi- 
 mentalist, whose achievements the vulgar take in early 
 days for miracles. He seems, if one can judge from 
 fragmentary poetic relics, to have encouraged that 
 popular superstition which greeted him almost as a god 
 whenever he appeared abroad ; and perhaps those 
 very verses have given rise to the absurd idea that he 
 precipitated himself into the crater of the volcano, in 
 order that his death might be unknown. He was a 
 Pythagorean in belief, admitted the metempsychosis, 
 and gave out that he had been in turn a girl, a boy, a 
 shrub, a bird, a fish, and Empedocles. But lest this 
 order should strike modern ideas of development as too 
 ludicrously inconsequent, it should be added that he 
 maintained the organic majesty and latent divinity in 
 man ; and looked upon him after the Buddhist's idea, as . 
 separated by accident, not essence, from the Supreme. 
 He was brave, humane, virtuotis, and so simple-minded 
 that he refused the crown of his native country. His ex- 
 tant writings show a grave and gifted mind : his style 
 is rich, nervous, and vital with thought; so that profound 
 respect must be felt for the name which Greek critics 
 coupled with Homer's, and which Lucretius declared to 
 be the greatest glory of Sicily. 
 
THE GREEK THEATRE. 
 
 The scope of this review does not include the great tragic 
 poets of Hellas, ^SCHYLUS, SOPHOCLES, and Euripides; 
 nor the ancient master of comedy, Aristophanes ; nor 
 yet the writers of the. Middle and New Comic Drama 
 of Greece; nor even those whose reputation largely 
 depends upon dramatic verse, like Antiphanes and 
 Alexis, Philemon and Menander. The perfect genius 
 of the three great tragedians, the wit and force of 
 Aristophanes, and the vast merits of Menander, among 
 many others, demand a graver tribute than the brief 
 examination which could be here bestowed. Referring 
 to these illustrious names, therefore, in due order of 
 the poetic succession ; our survey passes on to the de- 
 clining hours of Greek poesy, to witness the light of 
 Greek song dying down from Athens and the home 
 cities of Hellas, to flicker a little at Alexandria with 
 reflected beams, and in Sicily with the sunset colours of 
 Theocritus, Bion, and Moschus ; before it sinks — not 
 destitute of a last sad lustre — with Proclus. 
 
 L 2 
 
OTHER POETS OF AND AFTER THE 
 AGE OF PERICLES. 
 
 There are certain singers of the Grecian moyen-&ge 
 who deserve to be briefly mentioned as stars of the 
 second and third magnitude, shining in the same sky 
 with the great tragic writers, here reluctantly overpassed. 
 Panyasis, the uncle of the historian Herodotus, com- 
 posed an epic poem upon the adventures of Hercules, 
 which came to be held a classic by the Alexandrian 
 critics. Antimachus, called the Colophonian, attained 
 in the estimation of the same judges the next place 
 after Homer for- his poem "The Thebaid ;" and Quin- 
 tilian praises him excessively. It is not possible to quote 
 anything which could justify these high eulogies. Time 
 has been severer with Antimachus than his Greek and 
 Egyptian reviewers. Critias, one of the thirty tyrants 
 of Athens, also left some elegant but laboured verses, 
 among them an encomium upon the Spartan customs 
 at table, from which the subjoined lines in praise of 
 temperate drinking may be worth presenting : — 
 
 01 AuKeBaifiovieov Be Kopoi Tvivova Toaovrov 
 a)?T6 ^pev ek tXapav ncrjriSa Trdvr avar/eiv 
 
 et? re ^iXo^poavvr^v yXa, v tuv fierpiov re 'yiXoiTa. 
 TOLavTT) Se TToait (rd>iJ,wTL t w<^eKifio'i 
 
 At Spartan feasts they drink no more 
 
 Than takes the cloud from off the mind, 
 Makes the tongue merry, wrinkles mell 
 
 In sober laughter, hearts feel kind : 
 
OTHER POETS OF AND AFTER THE AGE OF PERICLES. I65 
 
 yvwfir] T£ KT-qcrei re, AcaXw? S' et? 6/37' ^ A<f)poBiTrj<; 
 
 TTpo? ^' vTTVov r/pfioa-rai, tov KafMOiTOsv Xifieva, 
 7rpo<; TYjv TepirvoTaT'rjv re Qemv Qvtjtoi^ Tjieiav 
 
 Koi Trjv Eva6^L7j<; yeirova Xto(f>poavm]v. 
 
 And this is good for flesh and blood, 
 
 Pricks wit, helps thrift, makes lusty youth ; 
 
 Brings restful sleep, wins heavenly health, 
 And pleases Prudence, sib of Truth. 
 
 Chcerilus of Samos earned a certain fame by 
 writing a poem upon the invasion of Xerxes, wherein 
 the Athenians were profusely lauded ; and on that 
 account, rather than because of his poetic merits, a law 
 was passed that extracts from it should be read in public 
 every year, at the festival of the Panathensa. It was 
 a namesake of this writer, Chcerilus o'f lasus, who 
 made the perilous contract to write a panegyric on 
 Alexander the Great, for every good line of which he 
 was to receive a piece of gold, and for every bad one a 
 blow with a scourge. The rash minstrel, alas! earned 
 only seven " staters," and then all but died under the 
 critical lash. 
 
 Cleanthes of Assos, the " Well-drawer," as he was 
 called at Athens, though rather a philosopher than a 
 poet, merits a niche in the gallery of Grecian singers. 
 His love of the Muses was so passionate that he came 
 to Zeno with only four drachmae in his pouch in order 
 to study. The citizens, observing him to be hale and 
 hearty, although a philosopher and a poet, and not prac- 
 tising any visible trade, cited him to the Areopagus, to 
 account for his mode of living. The young poet produced 
 
1 66 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 a gardener for whom he drew water by night, and also 
 a woman for whom he ground meal, explaining that he 
 paid his academic fees and got his modest livelihood in 
 that way. He was so poorly provided for the climbing 
 of Helicon, that he used to write down the heads of 
 his master's lectures about poetry and art upon bones 
 and potsherds. This humble and devoted servant of the 
 Muses has left a fairly-written " Hymn to Jupiter," and 
 rose from his obscurity to such fame that the Roman 
 Senate voted him a statue at Assos, in Lydia, his native 
 cit)'. 
 
 With these names the poetic roll of Ionia closes. 
 Athens, the chief Ionian city, in the generations follow- 
 ing that age of Pericles which was made so brilliant 
 with the glory of arms abroad and the grandeur of art 
 at home, abruptly declined from political life. She re- 
 mained a school of philosophy ; a foster-nurse of foreign 
 poets and poetasters, but she was mother of no more chief 
 minstrels — her myrtles lived, but blossomed no longer. 
 
THE ALEXANDRIANS. 
 
 While Greece, in the third century before Christ, thus 
 suffered decay and trouble, the traditions of her arts were 
 established in many countries which her genius had con- 
 quered. Sicily, as will be seen, caught the mantle of 
 poesy from her, all purple and perfect ; and Egypt, while 
 the Ptolemies were ruling and attracting a brilliant court 
 of philosophers and scholars, re-succeeded in some measure 
 to the studies and skill which had come, in the first 
 place, from the Nile to the Ilissus. The libraries of 
 Alexandria grew to be the richest in the world ; there 
 the- famous " Seventy " translated the Hebrew Scriptures ; 
 there Manetho made his archaeological researches ; Euclid, 
 the geometer, created the science of plane geometry, and 
 a crowd of " poets," more or less worthy of that high 
 title, wrote in the dying Attic tongue. In philosophy the 
 Alexandrian age is of the first importance, in poetry it 
 makes a certain mark. A few of its leading names 
 must here claim attention, more for their reputation than 
 any great foundation for it. 
 
 Lycophron composed a poem called the "Alex- 
 andra," which Joseph Scaliger and a few others have 
 claimed to comprehend and admire. It is cumbrous, 
 turgid, and obscure, and the most notable point is, per- 
 haps, that Lycophron puts Hercules into the belly of 
 a whale, like Jonah, where he utters piteous lamentations. 
 
1 68 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 The work was nick-named to a-Koreivov •jroirj/ui, " The 
 Dark Poem ;" it is written in iambics, smooth and neat 
 enough sometimes, and is a mixture of prophetic allu- 
 sions uttered by Cassandra during the Trojan war. 
 
 Callimachus was a master of the Alexandrian 
 schools, much regarded by the Romans. He wrote 
 enormously, but the value of his works is well summed 
 up by Ovid — 
 
 ' ' Ingenio non valet, arte valet. " 
 
 He was more of a pedant than a poet, and his " Ibis,'' 
 directed against an ungrateful pupil, was a miracle of 
 book-worming. If we could have back his "Settling of 
 Islands and Founding of Cities," it might be worth more 
 to the Royal Geographical Society than all his poesy 
 to the Muses. Yet one line of Callimachus ought to be 
 cited, from the hymn to the " Washing of Pallas," as it 
 is excessively neat, and may point many a modern lover's 
 compliment with an ancient turn. " Bring no myrrh 
 nor alabaster unguent-boxes for Minerva," he says : — 
 
 oKTere /ATjSe KaTOTrrpov ael koXov ofifia to r-^va^. 
 
 Nor hold a tiring-glass to her ; her face is alvpays fair. 
 
 Apollonius wrote a very excellent poem upon the 
 expedition of the Argonauts, which was badly received 
 by the Alexandrians, and its ill success drove the writer 
 in chagrin to Rhodes. The work has come down to us 
 in four books, and has a steady, praiseworthy march, not 
 without touches of tenderness and descriptive beauty. 
 Longinus calls the author aTTTwro?, or the " unstumbling," 
 
THE ALEXANDRIANS. 1 69 
 
 which gives very justly the idea of his easy but sure 
 poetic paces. Varro Atacinus, among the Latins, trans- 
 lated the " Argonautica," and Virgil, in the fourth ^neid, 
 has imitated it ; indeed, the poet lived to become fashion- 
 able again in the city of the Ptolemies, where he was 
 made librarian in the great Bibliotheca. He was perhaps 
 the best of the Alexandrine poets — no vast distinction 
 among the names of Philiscus, Sositheus, Sosiphanes, and 
 the like — though, as has been remarked, Alexandria was 
 so rich in philosophers, scholars, and commentators. 
 
THE SICILIANS. 
 
 THEOCRITUS. 
 
 Here at length is a high and veritable poet, a name 
 to rank with the foremost of Greek minstrels. Sicily 
 possessed famous singers before this date, whose renown 
 has received homage in this procession of laurelled 
 musicians. The gift of Greek verse fell, therefore, 
 naturally to the beautiful island when Hellas was given 
 over to decay and slavery ; nevertheless the Muse, in 
 emigrating from the slopes of snowy Parnassus to flowery 
 Himera and the southern languor of Syracuse, under- 
 went a certain change. Her fair cheeks were bronzed 
 to a country russet, her stately braids grew a little 
 dishevelled, and her sweet voice broadened into the 
 Dorian of the Trinacrian people. Theocritus was never- 
 theless the most perfect, because the most sincere, of 
 pastoral poets. Many have borne that title whose 
 pictures of the country appear no more rural than the 
 brocaded figures of Watteau, or the bepatched beauties 
 of Lely and Kneller. Theocritus painted the bucolic 
 life that was actually lived around him ; the lovely 
 Sicily days led in the soft weather, under smiling skies, 
 amid scenes of exquisite beauty, by a race cultured 
 
THEOCRITUS. IJF 
 
 enough to enjoy existence to the lees, yet not so cultured 
 as to speculate upon and spoil it His delicious lines 
 are sweet with all which was sweet in paganism, and 
 graceful with the polish of the finest poetic art, albeit so 
 simple and easy* Were one called upon to name the 
 four truest poets of Hellas, the vote should be given for 
 Homer, Sappho, Euripides, and Theocritus, with many a 
 pang to do such apparent irreverence to the great names 
 omitted, yet with no hesitation at all about the right of 
 the Sicilian to that place of honour, at least so long as — 
 
 " They shall be accounted poet kings, 
 Who simply tell the most heart-easing things " 
 
 Little is known of the history of Theocritus. He was 
 a Syracusan, the pupil of Philetas and friend of that 
 Aratus whose name will by-and-by have to be men- 
 tioned. It seems that he spent part of his life in 
 Alexandria — where Ptolemy Philadelphus was his patron 
 — and the remainder in Sicily, where some think he 
 was put to death by Hiero the Second, whom he had 
 offended, it is said, by a satirical epigram. The sup- 
 position rests, however, upon a passing expression of 
 Ovid, which may mean anything; and certainly he who 
 can have murdered such a poet must have been a ferocious 
 and " unmusical " tyrant indeed. There is an eulogy 
 written by him upon this very Syracusan ruler, which 
 would surely outweigh any conceivable satire. But, in 
 truth, the tradition is a groundless one ; we may believe 
 that Theocritus died at an old age, honoured and happy, 
 except for the fact that he must have witnessed, before 
 
172 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 he ceased to live and sing, the siege and capture of his 
 native city by the Romans. 
 
 Of his elegies, hymns, and iambics, none but the merest 
 fragments remain ; some epigrams survive, more or less 
 certainly attributed to him ; but the idylls, about thirty 
 in number, are those which embalm his fame, and form 
 one of the most delightful volumes of verse which litera- 
 ture possesses. A doubt, indeed, hangs over more than 
 two of these charming poems ; but if the suspected 
 flowers be not from the asphodel meadows of Theocritus, 
 such fair blossoms of poetry were surely grown from 
 the same seed, and the doubt need not greatly vex the 
 mind of the reader. The poems bear the name of 
 idylls, which does not signify that they are all pastoral 
 in subject. This one is an epic piece, that wholly lyrical ; 
 the other a comedy in exquisite hexameters, and yet 
 another is an epithalamium. But there are enough of 
 a purely rural character to have stamped upon the word 
 " Idyll," which merely means " sketch," or " fugitive 
 piece," its now traditional signification of a bucolic com- 
 position. Almost all the thirty are written in Dorian, 
 and in the hexametric line, which, under the magical 
 skill of Theocritus, bends and plays with the burden 
 of its meaning like a Sicilian stream laden with lilies. 
 His Greek is the softest ever spoken or written-^so 
 musical that the turns and phrases of his exquisite lines 
 cling to the ear, and fix themselves by their melody. 
 All is simple and natural with him — sometimes too 
 natural, perhaps — for he makes his shepherds and shep- 
 herdesses say very plain things occasionally ; but the 
 
THEOCRITUS. 173 
 
 grace, the freshness, the country music, the fragrance of 
 his flowery valleys ; the light of his bright noons, the 
 myrtle thickets and clear Greek rivers which shine 
 through his pastoral landscapes ; and in the others his 
 rich relish of human life, his tenderness, his grace, his 
 pagan contentment with the beautiful world, are all 
 fascinating, and never to be forgotten by one who has 
 caught the spirit of this Sicilian. " Contentment ! " have 
 we said ? Nay, indeed ! — among these very Sicilians, gay 
 as cicadcB, light as vine-leaves, musical with summer joy 
 as rivulets, the saddest verses in the region of verse- 
 making are to be found. MOSCHUS writes — 
 
 ai, al, ToX fia\d)(at /lev eirav Kwra Komov oXiovTac, 
 rj TO, '^(Xaypa aeXcva, to t evdaXe^ ovKov avrjdov, 
 vaTepov av ^(oovtv km el'i ero? aX\o (pvomf 
 dfifie'i S', 01, fisydXoi, Kal Kaprepol rj ao^ol avhpe'i, 
 OTTTTOTe TTpdra 6dva)fi€<;, dvaKooi iv ■)(6ovl KoiXa 
 euSsfjLE^ eu fiaXa, /j,xKpoi> dripfiova vrfyperrov vttvov. 
 
 Alas ! alas ! when mallows die, when winter tempests kill 
 The light-leaved humble parsley, or the curly tufted dill. 
 They live again, and come to leaf and seed each opening year ; 
 But we that are the lords of all — we men of wisdom clear. 
 So strong and great and crafty, in dying once die out. 
 And lie for ever in the ground, stark, quiet, wrapped about 
 With sleep that has no waking up ; — 
 
 For them, in truth, the earth was almost too fair ; life was 
 so sweet that death seemed too dreadful to think about ; 
 but they hid the thought of it aws.y under amaranth 
 flowers, and chirped like summer crickets heeding little 
 of winter. Thus begins the first idyll of Theocritus ; the 
 
174 I'H^ POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 pine music and the bubble of the fountain whisper and 
 tinkle through its lines : — 
 
 0TP2I2. 
 ' Ahv Ti TO ■y^iOvpiafJU Kot d irvTVi, ahroke, Ttjva, 
 a TTOTt rai? -TTCvyalcn, fieXiuherat,' dBii Be Koi rv 
 ffUjOiVSe?" /Mera Uava to BevTepov dSXov diroia-fj. 
 aXaa tTjvo^ e\rj Kepabv Tpdr/ov, alya tv Xayjrrj' 
 aiKa S" alya Xd^rj Trivoi jepa<;, e? re Karappei 
 d ■x^cfiapo<;' 'x^ifidpco Be koKov Kpfj<;, e?Te k dneX^rjs- 
 
 Softly the sway of the pine-branches murmurs a melody, Shepherd ! 
 Down by the rim of the fountain, and softly dost thou, on the Pan-pipes, 
 Pipe to the pines : next to Pan thou bearest the bell for rare music. 
 Say that he wins a great-horn'd goat, then thine is a she-goat ; 
 Say that the she-goat is his, but thine is the kid, then ; and tender 
 Savours the meat of a kid — till she comes to the bearing and milking. 
 
 AinOA03. 
 
 "ABiov, o) TTOifidv, TO Teov fieXc;, rj to KaTa^e<s 
 Tffv aTTO Ta? TTeT/sa? xaTaXei^eTai vy{r60ev vBwp. 
 atxa Tal MSxyai tclv ouBa Bwpov cvymvTat, 
 dpva TV craxiTav "Kayfrfj yepa^' al Be k dpeaKrj 
 Tr)vai<; apva Xa/Seiv, tv Be tclv oiv vcrrepov d^fj. 
 
 GOATHERD. 
 
 Sweeter I call thy strain than the tinkle of water that trickles, 
 
 Tinkling, and trickling, and rippling adown the green shelves of the mountain. 
 
 If we must grant the high Muses their prize from the pick of the wethers, 
 
 Certainly thine is a ewe : or if a ewe pleases their fancy, 
 
 Then at the least a lamb comes to thee — to drive to thy sheep-folds. 
 
 0TPSI2. 
 ^^?, TTOTi Tav Nvficpdv, \^9, aliroXe, ToBe Kadi^a<;, 
 u>^ TO KaTavTet; tovto <yed)\o^ov at re fivplicai., 
 SvpiaBev ; ra? B' alya^ eyav ev TmBe vofjievaSi. 
 
THEOCRirUS. 175 
 
 THYRSIS. 
 
 Sit thee adown, good friend — sit down, and pipe to us, Shepherd ! 
 Here where the side of the hill slopes fair, and the myrtles are thickest. 
 Blow the fine music out : the yearlings can pasture around us J 
 
 AinOAOS. 
 
 Ov 6efit<;, & iroifidv, rb /J^trafji^pivov, ov 6efM<i afifiw 
 avpierBev tov Ilava BeBoiicafie'i' ^ yap air ar^poM 
 ToviKa KeKfiaKa)!; a/Miraverai' ivrl Be ttik/jo?, 
 Kai, 01 aei Spifieia X"^ ttotl pivl KaOrjrat. 
 aXKa {tv yap 8)7, Qvpo'i, ra AdcftviBo'; otA/yea etSe?, 
 Kal ra? /Saj/eoXj/ea? iirl to irXiov 'Ueo fj,a}cra<;), 
 Beup', virb rdv TrreXiav iaSoafieda, rS) re Upupro) 
 Kav rav KpavtdSav Karevavriov, airep 6 OoiKO'i 
 TTJpoi; o 7rotfj,eviKo<} Kal ral Bpve^. al Be k deUrrif, 
 £09 TTOKa TOV Ai^vaOe ttoti Xpofiiv aaa^ iplaBcov, 
 aiya re rot Soxrw BiBv/uitokov e's rpt? dfieX^ai, 
 a, Bu" expicr iptcjjco^, TroTajxiK^eTai €9 Bvo TreXSui^, 
 Kai ^aOu Kicrerv^iov, KeKkvafikvov aSei Kapm, 
 dfj,cf)(be<!, veoTev)(e<;, en yXvcjidvoio ttotoo-Bov 
 
 GOATHERD. 
 
 Nay ! 'twere a sin, 'twere a sin — the sun's at his highest, my Thyrsis ; 
 Pan would be auger'd to hear me — just now, he breaks off from hunting, 
 Stretches his hairy limbs in the shade, and puffs his great nostrils. 
 Panting, and surly for lack of breath, and longing for slumber. 
 You now, Thyrsis, might sing ! you know the ballad of Daphnis : 
 None of our woodside singers have half such a trick at the measure. 
 Couch we here under these elms, on the grass at the foot of the stone-god, 
 Facing the fountain, and looking right on to the mountains and meadows, 
 Over the tops of the oaks ; and if you sing but as deftly 
 As you did once on the day when Chromis the African dared you, 
 Look ! I'll give you yon she-goat ; the dam of a couplet of weanlings ; 
 Udder she carries for both, and then to fill two of thy milk-bowls. 
 Her, and a cup cut in beech, two-handled and polished with beeswax. 
 Clean and new, with the smell of the chisel and fresh wood about it ; V 
 
I'zg THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 TO) irepl filv %etXi7 jxapveTat, ir^odt, /ctcriro?, 
 Kocrabi; ekf)(pva<ii KSKOvicrfievo^' a Se KaT avTOv 
 KapTTQ} eXt^ eiXeirat ajaWo/jieva KpoKoevri,. 
 evToadev Se yuvd, tl Oewv SaiBaXfia, Terv/craL, 
 a(7Kr}Ta 7r67r\&> re koi ap/irvKf Trap Be ol avBpet 
 KoXov ideipd^ovre^ ufioi^aSh dXkodev aXKot 
 veiKeiova enreeaai' rd B ov ^pevo<i aTTTerai avrd<;' 
 dXX' OKa fiev ttjvov TroTiBepKerat dvBpa yeXevo'a, 
 dXXo/ca 8' av ttotI-tov pnrTel voov. ol S" vtt epwro? 
 Bridd Kv\c^Bi,6covre<; irwaia fji,o-^6i^ovTi. 
 Toi'; Be jxera lypiirev^ re yepcov, nrerpa re TervKrai 
 Xevr/aci?, e'l^' a a-irevBwv fieya Blktvov e? ^oKov eKiceo 
 6 TTjOeCT/Su?, Ku/MVovTi TO Kaprepov dvBpl eoiica><;. 
 <^ai7)<; Kev yviatv viv oaov aQevo'i iWoTrieveiv 
 a>Be 01 a>BrjK.avTi kwt au-)(eva irdvToOev lve<s, 
 KoX TToXioi -rrep iovrr to Be adevo'; d^iov a^a<;. 
 tutBov S' oacrov dvwdev dXiTpvTOio yepovTO<; 
 irvpvaiai'; ara^vXalai KaXov ^e^piOev aXccd' 
 
 All round its rim, en the top, there creeps a string of ground ivy, 
 Twisted and tangled with woodbine, while here and there, in the circle. 
 Tendrils curl and clasp — with bunches of berries among them. 
 Outside a damsel is carved— so fair the gods might have wrought her ! 
 Neat and trim, with her mantle and net — and — this hand and that hand — 
 Two youths — both long-hair'd — both comely — contend for her favours 
 Angrily — never a jot cares my pretty jade for their anger ! 
 Sometimes she flings a smile to one, and frowns to his fellow, 
 Sometimes she softens to t'other — and there they stand in the beechwood, 
 Laugh'd at, but mad with love— half-teased, half-pleased at the wanton. 
 Next a fisherman comes, cut out on a rock, and its ledges 
 Jut up rough and stark— the old boy, done to a marvel. 
 Staggers and sweats at his work — ^just like a fisherman hauling ; 
 Looking upon it you'd swear the work was alive, and no picture : 
 So do the veins knot up and swell in his neck and his shoulders. 
 For, though he's wrinkled and grey, there's stuff left yet in the ancient. 
 Next to this old sea-dog you see a vine, with its branches 
 
THEOCRITUS. 
 
 177 
 
 rav o\vyo<; ti? /ca>/309 e'l^' alfiaa-ialai (j)v\da-<ret. 
 Tffievof afi(f>l Se fiiv Su aXwTreKe?, a /lev av opy(o<; 
 <j)oiTy (j-ivo/jbeva rav rpco^ifiov, d S' iirl irrjpav 
 iravra BoXov Tevypicra, to TrmBiov ov -irplv avrjo-eiv 
 tpan, irplv rj dxpana-Tov iirl ^r)poiat Kadi^rj. 
 avTup 07 dv6eplKe<T<n KcCKav irXeKei uKpiBodrjpav, 
 (yjfplvrp i<f)apfi6(TSo}v fieXerai, Be 01 oiire tl irrfpaf, 
 obre (jiDTWv roacrrjvov, ocrov trepX irXey/jian yadei. 
 iravra o ajx^X Beiras irepiiriirTaTat vyph<; aKav0o^, 
 AloXiKov Tt ddrifia- repa<; Ke tv Bvfwv drv^ai. 
 T&> fiev eyw iropOfJ.^ KdkvBcovla alyd r eBwKa 
 atvov, KOI TvpaiVTa fiiyav XevKolo ydkaKTO<;' 
 ovBk TL ira irorl %et\o9 ifwv dir/ev, dX>C en KeiTat 
 d)(pavTov. TO) Kev tv p.dXa irpo^pwv dpeaaiiiav, 
 a'iKev fJbOL TV <piXo<; top e^ijiepov v/nvov delcrrj'i. 
 Kov TOi TL <f>9ovea). TTOTay , w yaOe' tuv yap doLBdv 
 ovTL ira el's AtBav ye tov eKXeXddovTa ^vXa^ei?. 
 
 Heavy with globing grapes — a little lad sits by a thicket 
 Guarding the grapes, but close at hand two foxes come creeping, 
 One in the- vineyard munches the clusters — one's after the wallet : 
 Gods ! you can see his scheme — he'll keep his eye on the youngster. 
 Till that he finds a chance, and leaves him dinnerless. Blind one ! 
 Why do you sit there weaving with grasses a cage for your crickets, 
 Plaiting the grasses, and wholly forgetting your wallet and dinner, 
 Wholly forgetting your grapes— wrapped up in those grasshopper-engines ? 
 All the work in this cup's filled in with leaves of acanthus ; 
 'Tis an ^olic thing — and sooth, of a wonderful fancy, 
 Sirs ! it cost me to buy of the Calydon sailor, a big cheese 
 Made of snow-white curds, and a she-goat into the bargain ; 
 Yet it has touch'd no lip, but lies this while in my cottage. 
 See now ! I mean it for you ! 'tis yours, if you sing us that ditty 
 Half so well as you sang it before to the Himera shepherds. 
 No thanks ! do but sing ! — there's no more sunshine nor singing 
 Under the grass — in the realm of the dead— where all is forgotten ! 
 
 M 
 
178 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 This is the pastoral vein of the great poet of Trinacria ; 
 the second idyll is a good specimen of his picturesque and 
 passionate manner, -and of the exquisite melody of his 
 line. It is a love piece, tender and fierce alternately, as 
 were the dark eyes of the island girls. The English 
 version given below of this remarkable poem is a para- 
 phrase in part, rather than an exact translation ; but there 
 are passages in the " Pharmakeutria " which go almost 
 beyond the grace of English. In this idyll Simoetha, a 
 Syracusan girl, deserted by her lover Delphis, performs, to 
 bring him back to her, the " Incantation of the Bird ; " 
 wherein the bird called the wryneck was bound to a 
 wheel, and whirled round, while prayers were made to the 
 Moon and the deities of the Night. The sweet Greek 
 runs thus : — 
 
 US, jMoi Tol Bu(j)vai, ; ipepe, ©ecrrvXi' ira 8e ra (piX/rpa ; 
 
 (7Te'\lrov Tav KeXe^av ^oivcKeco oto? ua>T(p, 
 
 (u? Tov 6/j,ov ^apvv evvTa (f>LXoi> KaraOvcrofiai, avBpa, 
 
 o? fioi BcoBeKaTolo'; d(^' w rciXa? ovBeTrod' rjKei, 
 
 oiS' ir^vui, iroTepov TeQvaKaiie'i fj foot eifiii, 
 
 ovSe Ovpa's apa^ev avapcno';- rj pd ol dXXa 
 
 aixer e-^Mv o r "Epo)'; rap^w/a? (f)peva<;, a r 'A(f)poBiTa. 
 
 ^aaevfJ^ai irorl rav Tifiay^roio wdXaicTTpav 
 
 Thestylis ! where are the laurel-leaves ? Quick, girl ! bring me the love- 
 spells ! 
 Fasten the scarlet thread in and out round the brim of the beaker ! 
 Quick ! for I mean to charm my lover, my false-hearted lover. 
 Twelve long days are passed, and he never has once come to see me, 
 Knows not if I be living or dead — never sends me a message, 
 No ! not even a word at my door ! Has he gone to some new love, 
 I^ight as the wings of Eros, and fleeting as Queen Aphrodite ? 
 Down to the town I will hasten to-morrow, and see him, and ask him 
 
THEOCRITUS. lyg 
 
 avptov, w? viv t'Stu' Kal (jLiifi-t^ofiai, old fie iroiet. 
 vvv he vty 6« Qveav KaraOixrofjiai. dXXa, IleXdva, 
 tjioive KoXov tIv jap -Troraeia-ofiat acrv^a, Sai/iov, 
 TO. ■xdovia ff' 'EicaTa, rav ^(al (TKvXaKe<; rpo/MeovTt, 
 ep-)(Ofievav veicvoov dvd t rjpld Koi fieXav al/ia. 
 X^tp 1 'Exdra BamrXfJTi, koI e? TeXo^ dfifiiv 6'jrdBei, 
 (papfiuKa ravd epBotaa ^fpeiova fit^re n KipKa';, 
 fXT^re n Mr/SeLa';, firjTe ^avOd'; JTejOt/xj^Sa?. 
 
 "Ivj^, eXKe TV Trjvov e/iov ttotX hwfia tov dvSpa. 
 aXfptra roi Trpdrov irvpi rdKeraf dXX' eTrLiracrae, 
 OeaTvkf heiXaia, ira rd? (ppiva'i eKireiroTaaai ; 
 fj pd lye rot fiitaapd koi tIv eVt^ap/xa rirvyfiai, ; 
 Trdtro" ap,a koi Xeye ravra' tu AeK^iZo^ bcnea irdcr&oj. 
 
 "Ivy^, eX«e tv Trjvov i/ibv "ttotI Boofta tov avBpa. 
 AeX(pi<; efi dviaaev ejcb S' eVl AeX^iBi Bd(j)vav 
 aWa- x <"? avrd Xaaet fieya Kairvvpicraaa, 
 
 Face to face, why he treats me so coldly : but Thestylis ! thou now 
 Help me to try him with charms, and oh Moon ! glitter thy brightest ! 
 Shine, pale Moon ! for thee I invoke, and thy sister and shadow 
 Hecate — the under-world Moon, whom even the little dogs howl at 
 When she goes forth o'er the graves, and all her footmarks are bloody : 
 Make my magic to-night as strong as ever was Circe's, 
 Potent as white Perimede's, and mighty as Colchian Medea's ! 
 
 Little bird ! whirl and scream, and whirl, and bring me my lover ! 
 Turn wheel, turn ! and burn, cake, burn ! Ah ! Thestylis, sprinkle ! 
 What are you doing to tremble so ? sprinkle the salt on the brazier ! 
 Where are your wits gone, girl ! or is it that you too must vex me ? 
 Sprinkle the salt, and say, " Flesh and blood of Delphis I scatter ! " 
 
 Little bird ! scream, and whirl, and scream, and bring me my lover ! 
 
 Delphis grieves me — in my turn 
 I will grieve him. Laurel, burn ! 
 As thy bright leaves curl and crack. 
 Smoke and blaze and vanish black, 
 
 M 2 
 
l8o THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 Kfj^airlva<; a^drj, KOvSk ottoBov eiBofie<; avra?" 
 ovToa rot Koi AeK^i,<i ivl ^Xoyl adpic afia6vvoi. 
 
 "Ivy^, e\Ke rii Trfvov ifwv ttotX Bu/jm top dvBpa. 
 (a? TOVTOv TOP Kapov eym avv Balp-ovi tukq), 
 w? TCiKoiff utt' epwTO'i 6 MvvBto'i avrUa JeX^t?" 
 ■^ ft)9 BiveW oBe pofi^o<; 6 ■)(a\,Keo'i, i^ 'A^poBiTa<; 
 ft)? KelvQ<i Blvoito tto^' dp,ereprjcn Ovpr/aiv. 
 
 "liiy^, €\k6 rii Tifjvov ijiov ttotI BS)/j,a tov dvBpa. 
 vvv dvcrai to, •jrlrvpa, rii B", ''Aprefii, Koi tov ev aBa 
 Kivrjaai'; oBd/xavra, koi evri irep da^a\e<; dXKo. 
 QearvkL, toX Kwa dfifitv dvd tttoXiv mpvovrai. 
 d Oeo'i ev TpioBoiai- to ■)(a\Kiov to? Td-)(p<i dj(ei,. 
 
 "lijy^, eKK€ tv Trjvov i/iov ttotI Bmfia tov dvBpa. 
 rfvi^e airfo, fiev ttwto?, criy&VTi B difTaf 
 
 Leaving not a leaf to see ; 
 
 May his heart love-scorchid be ! 
 
 Little bird ! whirl, and scream, little bird ! and bring me my lover ! 
 
 As I melt this waxen ball 
 
 May the great gods hear me call, 
 
 And Delphis melt with love for me ! 
 
 And as this wheel turns rapidly 
 
 So may Queen Venus speed the charms 
 
 And bring him quickly to my arms ! 
 
 Little bird, whirl, whirl, whirl ! scream ! scream ! and bring me my lover ! 
 
 Now I scatter on the flame 
 Bran. Oh ! Artemis ! thy name 
 Moves the Judge of Hell to fear, ■ 
 Rhadamanth himself ! Then hear ! 
 Hear ! oh, hear me ! Thestylis, 
 Did the dogs bark ? Yes, it is ! 
 'Tis the goddess in the street ! 
 Beat the cymbals ! quick, girl ! beat ! 
 
 Little bird, scream — scream louder ' and bring me my false-hearted lover ! 
 
THEOCRITUS. I 8 I 
 
 a S e/ta ov a-iya (rrepvcov evToaOev avta, 
 
 aXK iirl t'^v^ iraaa KoraiOofiat, o? /ie raXaivav 
 
 dvrl 7wa{/co9 eOrjice KUKav Kai airdpOevov ^fiev. 
 
 "lijy^, eXxe TV ttjvov ifwv ttotI hoijia top dvSpa. 
 e? TjOt? dTToa-irevBo), koX Tpl<s rdSe, iroTvia, (jtavo)' 
 eire jvvd rrpia irapaKeicKiTai,, eire koX dvrip, 
 Tocraov e'xpi 7M0a<s, ocrcrov iroKO, 0aaea (pavrl 
 iv Am Xcwdfjp,ev ivTrXoKa/ieo 'ApidBva<;. 
 
 "Ivy^, eKice tv Trjvov ifwv iron B&fia top dvBpa. 
 hnrofJMV€<i (pvrov etrri trap ApKoar rm S' em irdaav 
 KoX "jraXoi (laivovrai dv mpea km Goal iinroi. 
 o}<; Kal AeK(f>iv iBoifif km, i<s roSe B&fia irepdaat 
 fiaivofievq) wceXo?, XnTapd<; SKToaOe 7ra\alarpa<;. 
 
 Ivy^, e\Ke rv ttjvov efiov iron ocofia tov avopa. 
 TOVT aTTO ra? ')(\a!,vw} to KpdoTreSov aikea-e Aek^L<i, 
 ar/m vvv nXKoiaa KaT d/^pUo iv irvpl ^oKXeo. 
 
 Look ! the restless sea is sleeping, 
 Milk-white ripples curling, creeping ! 
 Listen ! all the winds are quiet. 
 Folded up from rage and riot ! 
 Only in my heart the pain 
 Wakes, and will not sleep again ! 
 Bitter pain the sport to be 
 Of him who hath unmaidened me. 
 
 Little bird, whirl — whirl fast ! scream sharp — scream ! call me my lover ! 
 
 Thrice libations due I pay 
 Thrice, great goddess ! this I say : 
 Whom he loves now I know not, 
 But let her come to be forgot ! 
 Clean forgot from head to feet 
 As Ariadne was of Crete. 
 
 Scream, little bird ! more — more ! and whirl, and fetch me my lover ! 
 
 In Arcady there grows a flower, 
 Stin^ the herds with subtle power, 
 
I 82 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 at at, epcot; aviape, ri fiev fieXav eic XP°°'> *'/""" 
 i/j,(f>v'i (B9 \ifivaTi<; a/Kav m ^heKKa ireiraKa'i ; 
 
 'liij^, eXre rii Trjvov ijJLov ttotI S&fta tov avopa. 
 cavpav TOO Tpl^jraaa, KaKov ttotov avpiov oiaw. 
 Qea-TvKi, vvv Se Xa^olaa tv ra 6p6va Tavff' vTrofia^ou 
 Ta<; rtjvw (fiXba'i Kadvireprepov, a? eVt /cao vvv 
 iK OvjjlS) SeSe/ittf o he fiev 'Kxr/ov oiiSeva iroiel' 
 Kol Xey e7n^6u^oi(ra' ra A6X<l3tSo^ oaTea fjMcrcra). 
 
 "lijy^, eX/ce tv Tfjvov i/j,ov ttotI Bwfia tov dvBpa. 
 vvv Br] fjLovvr] iolcra -Trodev tov epcoTa Baicpvam ; 
 eK Ttro? dp^evpbat ; rt? fioi, Kaxov a/yar/e tovto ; 
 r\vff a Tco' v^ovXoio Kava^6po<; ap,fuv 'Ava^to 
 aX(709 6? 'ApTefj,iBo^- TO, Br] TOKa ttoXXo. fjiev aXKa 
 67]pia TTO/MTreveaKe TreptaToBov, ev Be Xeatva. 
 
 Drives them mad on vale and height : 
 Would I had that flower to-night ! 
 Delphis should come quick to me, 
 Come, whate'er his company ! 
 
 Scream for me still, little bird ! scream once, and call me my lover ! 
 
 Delphis left this gift with me : 
 In the fire I fling it. See ! 
 Bum it red and burn it black. 
 Angry hissing flames ! Alack ! 
 It leaps away — he'll not return ! 
 It only bumeth as I bum. 
 And now 'tis ashes, pale and grey. 
 As pale as I grow day by day. 
 
 Scream ere you die, little bird ! one cry to call me my lover ! 
 
 Lizards green and gold I take 
 (Mighty magic this will make); 
 Slit them down from chin to tail. 
 Squeeze their cold blood, cold and pale. 
 Thestylis, take this to-morrow 
 (It can work hira bliss or sorrow). 
 
THEOCRITUS. I S3 
 
 ^pa^€o fiev Tov ep(o6\ o9ev iketo, voTva SeXuva. 
 Kat, /J, a Qev^ctptKa, Qpacrcra rpo(^o^ a naKaplrt';, 
 wy^idvpot; valoLaa, Karev^aTo, Kal \iTavev<7e 
 rav. irofvirav Odcraadaf eyco Be 01 a /MeyaXoiTO'i 
 difjLapTew, ^uaaooo koXov avpotaa •)(t,TSiva, 
 Kafi<f>i(7Tet\afieva rav ^vcrrlha rav KXeapiarai;. 
 
 ^pd^eo fj£v TOV epoff", odgv wcero, iroTva SeXdva. 
 ijSt] S' ev<Ta iJ,e<rav Kar dfia^iTOv, a rd AvKcovof, 
 elBov AeK^iv ofwv re koX EvBd/iLinrov l6vTa<;. 
 Toi? S' ^v ^avdorepa fiev eXf^^pvaoM •yeveid';, 
 aTr)Qea Be tyriK^ovTa iroXv irXkov, rj tv, SeXdva, 
 609 aTTO yv/MvacTwu) KaXov irovov dpn XfTrovcri. 
 
 Lay it on his threshold stone, 
 Spit to the left, and say alone, 
 "She whose heart you tread on here 
 Charms you, Delphis ! Love or Fear !" 
 
 Dead are you, poor little fool ! and you could not bring me ray lover ! 
 
 Ah, me ! what shall I do ? Alone, alone ! — 
 
 I'll think the story over of my love. 
 
 How it began — what made the sweet pain come. 
 
 It was the day Anaxo was to walk 
 
 Bearing the basket for great Artemis, 
 
 With striped and spotted beasts in the procession. 
 
 Oh ! — and you recollect — a lioness ! 
 
 Lady Moon ! listen and pity ! and help me, bringing my lover ! 
 
 And my old Thracian nurse, Theucharila 
 Came — you remember — teasing, tempting me 
 To go and see them pass, and so I went. 
 O fool ! I went wearing the yellow bodice, 
 And Clearista's purple train from Tyre. 
 
 Lady Moon ! listen and pity, and say where tarries my lover ! 
 
 And when we came hard by where Lycon lives 
 Upon the paved way, there I saw him first, 
 Delphis, with Eudamippus — oh, you know ! 
 
184 'l''IE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 ^pd^eo fiev rov epQ}d\ 66ev Iksto, iroTva Se^uva. 
 T^co? iBov, ft)? ifjidvriv, w? ixev irepi Ovfxo'; ld<f>67) 
 Seikaia^' ro 8e KaWo? irdKero, KovBi rt Tro/xTra? 
 T^va<; e^paadfiav, ovB w? TrdXiv olicaB uTrijvOov 
 eyvcov uWd jxe ri's Kairvpa voao<; i^aXdira^e' 
 Keifiav 8' iv KKiVTrjpt, Biic afw/ra koX BeKa vvKraf. 
 
 0pd^e6 /J-ev TOP epwff , odev cKeTo, ttotvu SeXdva. 
 Kal fiev ■)(po}^ fiev 6fwio<; ejiveTO iroKKaKi 6d-\lrq)- 
 eppevv S' 6/c Ke<^aXa<; iraaai rpi'xe'i' avrd Be Xonra 
 cxTTe er ^9 Kal Bipfj,a' Kai i'i tlvo<; ovk evepaaa 
 i) TTOi'a? eXtirov 'ypaia<; Bo/iov, dni iiraBev ; 
 dW' ■^y ovBev e7ui<pp6v 6 Be ■)(p6vo'; dvvTO (jtevjwv. 
 
 ^pd^eo fiev rov epo)6\ odev iKero, iroTva SeXdva. 
 ■^ ovrco ra BcoXa tov dXadea fwdov eXe^a' 
 
 His hair danced back from off his brow, like sprays 
 Of bright amaracus, when the west blows. 
 And all his neck, flushed with the heat of the games, 
 Shone as thou shinest. Moon ! but rosier pearl ! 
 
 Lady Moon ! Lady Moon, listen, and pity, and bring me my lover ; 
 
 I saw him — looked ! loved ! oh, my foolish eyes ! 
 
 Oh me ! the coward colour of my cheeks ! 
 
 Oh, heart that straight went mad ! I did not mark 
 
 Those tame beasts any more ; how I came home 
 
 I cannot call to mind ; you know I lay 
 
 Ten days and nights indoors, and never rose. 
 
 Lady Moon, sweet pale Moon ! have mercy, and bring me this lover 
 
 I grew as pale — as white as thapsus-wood ! 
 
 Say if I braided up my hair, or sang? 
 
 Say if I grew not to a ghost, with thinking ? 
 
 When was the day you sought not who he was, 
 
 Where was the crone we did not plague for charms 
 
 To bring him ? All in vain ; he never came ! 
 
 Oh, Moon ! hide not thy face. Oh, white Moon ! listen and pity ! 
 So I grew sick with waiting, and I said, 
 
THEOCRITUS. 1 85 
 
 et S' aye ©effTiAt fioi yoKerrraii voaa evpe n fia'^p';. 
 vaaav e-)(ei fie ToKaivav 6 MvvBio<;. aXKa fioXoiaa 
 Trjprjo-ov ttotI rav Tifiwy-^TOio "rraXaioTfav' 
 TTjvel yap (poiTrj, rrjvel Be ot dBu Kodrja-Bai, 
 
 ^pd^eo fiev rov epmS', odev 'iKero, irorva SeXdim. 
 Kr)irei icd viv eovra fidOrjt; jxovov, acrvxa vevaov, 
 K^(f) , oTi ^ifiaida TV Kokei, Kol v<^dr/eo raBe. 
 w? e<f}dfj,av d S" rjvOe, koI ar/cvye tov Xnrapo'xpccv 
 el<i efid Bcofiara jdeK(f>iv eym Be fitv to? ivorjora 
 dpTi dvpa<; virep ovBov dfieu^ofievov TroSt Kovtpo), 
 
 ^pd^eo fiev tov epaff', odev iKero, irorva Xekdva, 
 Trdca iJ,ev eyfrv^07)v ^toi'o? TrXiov, e/c Be fieToiTrco 
 [Bpa)<; fiev KoyyBeaKev 'icrov voTiaiatv iep<7ai<;, 
 ovBi Ti (fxovacrai Bvvdfiav, oiiB' 6cr(Tov ev vrrvw 
 Kw^evvTOi ^(ovevvTa ^IXav ttotX fuvrepa TeKvw 
 dX\' efidr/rjv BayvBi koKov XP^"' "TdvToOev tcra. 
 
 " Oh, Thestylis, help !— heal me, or I die ! 
 
 " This Greek boy hath bewitched me. Go, my friend ! 
 
 " Watch at the gateway of the wrestling-school. 
 
 " He Cometh there, I think, to play or sit. 
 
 Silver-faced Queen of the stars, thou know'st we are not as immortals ! 
 
 " And when he is alone, whisper full soft 
 " And say, ' Simoetha bids thee come,' and then 
 " If he will, bring him !" So you went and came 
 Bringing my love to me. But when I heard 
 His sandals on the step, and saw his face — 
 Lady Moon ! hear this now, and pity, and shine while I tell you ! 
 And saw his face, I turned as cold as snow. 
 And tears — I wot not why — sprang to my lids. 
 And how to speak I knew not ; not so much 
 As little children startled in the night. 
 That sob and know it is all well — but sob, 
 And will not stint even for their mother's voice. 
 I was as dumb as dead things, Thestylis. 
 
I 86 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 ^pd^eo fiev tov epai6\ odev lketo, iroTva SeXdva. 
 Kai \x! icriBcov &(TTopyo<;, eVt ■)(6ovo'; ofifiara irrj^a^, 
 e^€T iirl KKiVTrjpi, koX et,6fievo<; ^dro fivOov 
 ■q pd fie, SifMiOa, Toaov e^Oaira';, ocrcrov iya> 6r)v 
 frpdv TTOKa tov j(apleina rpep^foi' e<j)0a^a $iX!evov, 
 e? TO Teov KoKeaaaa roSe crreyo^, rj fie iraprjfiev. 
 
 ^pdijeo fiev tov Mprnff", odev "keto, iroTva SeXdva. 
 rjvOov yap Ktjydiv, vol tov jXvkvv, rfvOov, epcoTa, 
 rj TpLTO<i r)e TeTapTO^ ea)v (/>i\o?, avTiKa vvkto^, 
 fiaXa fiev iv koXttokti, Aiavvcroio ^vXacraav, 
 KpaTi S' e'xoiv XevKav, 'H.paicKeo<; lepov epvo^, 
 ■wdvTocre irop^vperjai irepi^uxjTprjcriV eXiKTdv. 
 
 0pd^e6 fiev TOV epcod', '66 ev '(.KeTO, -rroTva IleXdva. 
 KaL fi el fiev k iBe')(e<TOe, TdS" ^9 ipiXa' Kal jap eXa<ppoi 
 Kal KaXo'i irdvTeaai fiST rjldeoiai KaXevfiat. 
 
 Queen of the planets and stars ! forgive, and listen, and pity ! 
 
 For he with a bright gladness — not too bold — 
 
 Entered ; and looked hard once and then looked down ! 
 
 And sat against my feet ; and sitting, said, 
 
 "Only so little, sweet Simoetha! thou 
 
 ' ' Hast been the first to speak — as I was first 
 
 "Against Philinus in the race to-day, — 
 
 White-sandalled Mistress of Night ! have patience, and hear me and help me. 
 
 ' ' I should have come, I swear it by my head ! 
 ' ' To-morrow at the dusk. I meant to bring 
 " Some choice rose-apples in my breast. Mayhap 
 " You love them ; and a crown of poplar leaves 
 " Twisted with myrtle-buds and tied with red ; 
 
 Lady Moon, where is he now ? so soft, so gentle, so fickle ! 
 
 " And if you had seemed kind I should have spoke. 
 
 " I was not hopeless, for I won the prize 
 
 " At running, and the maidens call me fair. 
 
 ' ' The one prize I have longed for since the feast 
 
 ' ' Was once to touch the goal of those dear lips ; 
 
THEOCRITUS. 1 87 
 
 ivZov S', ai Ke fiovov to koS^v OTOfia ret)? icptXaaa, 
 el S" aXXa /m mdelre, Kal d Ovpa etjgero fMo^XS, 
 TrdvTco<i Kal TreXe/cet? Kot Xa/ATTaSe? rjvdtw e^' vfiea<;. 
 
 0pd^e6 fiev tov epmff', oOev 'licero, iroTva SeXdva. 
 vvv Se 'xdpiv fiev e^av to, KinrpiSi rrpdrov 6<f>etX€iv, 
 Kal fierd rdv Kxnrptv tv fie Seurepa e/c tthjOG? eiXev, 
 ft> lyvvai, icTKaXeaaa-a reov ttotI tovto fjbekadpov, 
 avT(o<} r/fii^XeKTov "Epcoi B' dpa Kal Aiirapaiov 
 7roXXdKi<; 'A^aiaroio creXas ^Xoyepmrepov aWei. 
 
 ^pd^eo fiev tov epcoO', oOev 'iKero, iroTva SeXdva. 
 <7vv Se KaKUK fiaviaK Kau trapdevov e/c BaXdfioio 
 Kal vvfjL^dv i(j)6^T)<7', en Bifivia Oepfia Xiirolaav 
 dvepo<;' w? o fih> elirev i<ya> Be 01 d Ta')(V'iTei6r)<; 
 'XetpK e<f)aylrafieva fiaXaK&v mXiv etrl XeKTpwv 
 Kal ra'^ii %/3a)9 eVt 'xpcorl Treiraivero, Kal rd irpoawira 
 QepjJLOTep fj'; rj irpocfOe' Kal e\^i6vpLa-Bofie<s dSv. 
 
 " Then I could rest — not else ! But had you frowned, 
 ' ' And bade me go, and barred your door on me, 
 ' ' Oh, Sweet ! I think I should have come with lamps, 
 " And axes, and have stolen you like gold ! 
 
 Lady Moon, where is he now ? so gentle, so earnest, so winning ! 
 
 " How shall I," he went on, "thank the gods first, 
 "And next you — you ! the queen and life of me ! 
 " My kindest love — who badst me hither come 
 " When I did burn for leave — yea ! for I think 
 ' ' HephEestus hath no flame like Eros knows ! " 
 
 Lady Moon, look out of heaven, and find him, and bring him for pity. 
 
 So he spake, low and fair, and I, alas ! 
 
 What could I do, but reach my hand to him, 
 
 And let him take it, and take me, and have 
 
 The kiss he sued for, and another such ? 
 
 My cheeks were white no more, nor my heart sad, 
 
 Nor any trouble left ; but we sat close. 
 
88 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 p^w? Ko. Toi /Mr] fjMKpd, <f)i\a, 6pv\6a)fii, ^eKdva, 
 hrpouvdr) to, fjLer/urra, Kal e? irodov ijv6ofie<! dfi^co. 
 Koine Ti rfjvo'i ifuv eireiiiji-^aTO fiea-(^a toi ej(6e<;, 
 OUT e'Yft) av ti]Vw- aW' rjjvQk fioi a re ^i\icrTa<; 
 fidrrjp ra? 7' diJiaf avkrjrpiBo^, d re MeXi^ovi?, 
 adfJLepov, dviKa Trip re ttot' ovpavov erpej^pv hnroi, 
 doi rdv poh6'}ra')(yv air flKeavoio (pepoiaaf 
 Kyire p-oi oKKa re iroWd, koI ta? dpa AeX^i^ epdraf 
 icyre p,iv avre yvvaiKo<i ej(eb 7r60o<;, etre Kal dvBp6<;, 
 ovK 'ii^ar drpexe^ iBfiev, drdp t6<tov alev eparot 
 dKpdro) eVe^etTO, Kal e's reXo? Sj^ero (pevymv, 
 Kal <f>dTO 01 <7Te^dvoi(Ti rd B(Ofiara Trjva irvKdahev. 
 ravrd fwt d ^eiva fivd-^aaro' effTi S' dXadrj'i' 
 rj yap /Moi Kal Tpl<i Kal reTpdKi<; aWor i^oirrj, 
 Kal Trap' ifilv irlOei rdv AaipiZa iroKKdKi's ciKirav 
 vvv Be re BtoBeKaTaio'i d^' mri viv ovBeiroK elBov. 
 
 And the light talk bubbled from lip to lip 
 
 Like fountains in the roses. All that time, 
 
 And many a time we sat so : never once 
 
 He failed to keep his word, and never once 
 
 Left save with lingering foot. But one ill day 
 
 He did not come, and then it was I heard 
 
 Stories, that vexed me, of another love : 
 
 Melixa's mother, and the harp-player 
 
 Told me — and both are friends — he'd come no more. 
 
 And that his house was loud with pipes and songs, 
 
 And gay with crowns, not woven now for me. 
 
 Oh, Thestylis ! twelve days ago this was, 
 
 And never have I seen him since that day. 
 
 And never shall, unless my magic works : 
 
 Therefore blow up the flame, and whirl the wheel ! 
 
 Lady Moon ! speed this spell ; and fetch me my false-hearted lover. 
 
 Speed this spell ! if it brings you, 
 Delphis, love shall live anew : 
 
THEOCRITUS. 1 89 
 
 17 p ovK aWo Tt Tepirvov e'^ei, a/i&v Be XeXaarai ; 
 vvv fiev TOL<! ^tKrpoK KaraOvaofiaf al B' en Kij/jue 
 Xinrfj, rav 'AiBao iriiXav, val M.oipa';, apa^ei. 
 Toid ol ev KiaTa kuko, <j)dpfiaKa ^apX (^vkdaaevv, 
 'AaiTvpico, heairoiva, irapd ^eivoto fiadolaa. 
 
 ^AKKa. rb (lev ^(aipoiaa iror ^iliteavov rpeire ircoKov;, 
 iroTVt' iym S' olam tov ifiov irovov, wairep VTreorav. 
 ^atpe, SeXavaia Xiirapo'xpoe' j^aipere 8 , aXKoi 
 d(rTepe<;, evKijXoio kwt avrwya vvicto<; oTraBoi. 
 
 If in vain I watch and wait, 
 
 Delphis, love will turn to hate ! 
 
 Subtle drugs I treasure here, 
 
 Drugs of awful force and fear : 
 
 A Syrian witch culled these for me 
 
 In lonely caverns by the sea. 
 
 Delphis, if I brew this drink 
 
 It will send you, as I thinl<, 
 
 Down to Hades' gate, to seek 
 
 A sweeter lip, a fairer cheek. 
 
 Oh, Moon ! spare me this at last ! 
 
 Oh, Moon ! speed it — if I must. 
 
 And now farewell ! for one day more 
 
 I wait, and love him as before ! 
 
 Farewell, pale Moon, and planets bright. 
 
 Watchers with me this silent night ! 
 
BION. 
 
 There are two Dorian writers who have obtained and 
 deserved the glory of perpetual fellowship with Theocritus 
 in the procession of Greek poets. In the third idyll of 
 Moschus these names are all embalmed together, where 
 the death of Bion is lamented by his fellow poet, and 
 Theocritus is named as joining in the sorrow inspired by 
 his early end. The three poets compose together a 
 delicious chord of country music. Theocritus is far the 
 most varied, skilful, and sustained ; while time, which has 
 dealt hardly by the gracious and finished verses of Bion, 
 and the cameo-like poetic gems of Moschus, has spared 
 enough of the Syracusan to survive as a full-blown classic. 
 Much, indeed, of what is called " classical " might be freely 
 — well-nigh contemptuously — given away for more of the 
 soft melodies of Bion and Moschus. Little is known of 
 the lives of these two friends of Theocritus. Bion was 
 born, it seems, near Smyrna, but dwelt in Sicily, where 
 he was poisoned, we know not how ; though his death is 
 recorded in many lovely lines by Moschus, of which these 
 are four: — 
 
 ^apfiaKov rjXde, Blcov, ttotI crov arofia, (jtdpfiaKOv jJSe? 
 roiovroi^ '^etKeaai vore^pa^e, kovk hfKvK&vQ'r] ; 
 T('<f 8e ^poTO'i rocraovTov avdfiepo<;, rj Kepdcrai toc, 
 r] oovvM XaXeovTi to (j)dp/j,aKov ; eK(f)uyev wSdv. 
 
BION. 191 
 
 Ah ! Bion thou art poisoned — an ill drink hath brought thee low ; 
 How could it pass such lips as thine, and not to honey grow ? 
 And who in all the world could be so bad in heart and head, 
 To hear thee speak, then murder thee? — 'tis Poesy that's dead. 
 
 His best extant work is the half-religious, half-erotic 
 " Lament of Adonis," so splendidly plagiarised by Shelley 
 in the "Adonais." It is too beautiful to withhold, though 
 its conceits are of a later and less natural air than those 
 which fill the verses of Theocritus with scents of myrtle 
 and pine. Bion learned the art of Song in the Asiatic 
 atmosphere, where lingered mystic traditions of Thammuz, 
 and the Syrian fervour of this warm litany of love. 
 
 Alci^co TOP "ABmviv onroiKeTO KaXo<s ''AScovi^. 
 wXero A:aXo? ''ABa)vi,<;, ivatd^ovaiv "Epa)Te<;. 
 fj-rjicen Trop^vpeoK ipl (f)dpeat, Kvirpi, Kadevhe' 
 ejpeo Seikat'a KvavocrToXe, km TrXaTwyrjcrov 
 (TTadea, koI \eje irdcTLV a/iroikeTO icdXo^ ' ABcovk. 
 
 Ald^Q} TOP 'ABcoviv iiratd^ovaiv "Epa)Te<i. 
 Keh-ai KoXo'i "ABwvk eV wpeai, firjpov oBovrt 
 XeuKw Xevjcov ohovTi TUTret'?, koX Kvirpiv dvia 
 Xetrrov diro'^vywv to Be 01 fiekav ei/Serai alfia 
 ')(^[ovea'; Kara aapKO';- vtt o^pvao 8' ofifiara vapK?), 
 
 Woe is me for Adonis ! gone dead is the comely Adonis ! 
 Dead is the god-like Adonis ! the young Loves wail for him, ai ! ai ! 
 Sleep no more, wrapped in thy mantles of Tyrian, lady of Cyprus ! 
 Rise, don thy raiment of azure, pale mourner, and beat on thy bosom ! 
 Tell out thy sorrow to all— he is dead, thy darling Adonis. 
 
 Ai ! ai ! wail for Adonis ! — the young Loves wail for him, ai ! ai ! 
 Hurt on the hill lies Adonis the beautiful ; torn with the boar's tusk. 
 Torn on the ivory thigh with the ivory tusk, his low gasping 
 Anguishes Cypris' soul : the dark blood trickles in rivers 
 
192 
 
 THE POETS OF GRE&CE. 
 
 KoX TO poSov <f)evyei rS> j^etXeos" a/i.<^i Se Trjva 
 Ovda-Kei Koi to <j)t\afui, to fi'^oTe Kinrpi<; dtpijerei. 
 KwrpiBt fiev to cjitXa/Ma koX ov ^a>ovTO<; apecTKei, 
 aXK' ovK olSev ''Ahwwi o fiiv OvdaKOVT i^ikaaev. 
 
 Ald^m Tov ''ABccviv hraid^ovtriv 'EpcoTe^. 
 aypiov, ap/piov eKKO<; e-^ei kuto, firjpov ''ABcovi';' 
 fieVjov S' a Kv6epeia (fiepei ironicdpBiov e\KO?. 
 Keivov (lev irepX iralSa (piXoi kvv6<; mBvpavTo, 
 Koi Nv/J,(f>ai K\aiov(TLV 'O/setaSe?. d 8' 'A^poBira, 
 \va'ap,eva TrXo/ca/atSa?, dvd Spvfiw<; dXdXrjTai 
 •jrevOdkea, vrjirKeKTO'i, d(rdvBdKo<;- al Be ^dToi viv 
 ipj^o/Mevav KeipovTi, Kal lepov alfia BpeTrovTUf 
 o^v Be KtoKvovaa Bl dyKea fuiKpd (^opeiTai, 
 ^Acravpiov ^ooajaa irocnv, Kal iralBa KcCKevcra. 
 dfi<f)l Be fiiv fieXav alfia irap ofi(f>a\ov rjmpeiTO, 
 (TTrjQea S' e'/c fj,rjpS)V (j)ot,vi<Ta'eTO, oi S' iiirofia^ol 
 ')(i6veoi, TO irdpoodev 'ABcoviBo irop^vpovTO. 
 
 Down from his snowy side — his eyes are dreamily dimming 
 
 Under their lids ; and the rose leaves his lip, and the kisses upon it 
 
 Fade, and wax fainter, and faintest, and die, before Cypris can snatch them ; 
 
 Dear to the Goddess his kiss, though it be not the kiss of the living ; 
 
 Dear — but Adonis wists none of the mouth that kissed him a-dying. 
 
 Ai ! ai ! wail for Adonis ! — ai ! ai ! say the Loves for Adonis. 
 Cruel ! ah, cruel the wound on the thigh of the hunter Adonis,' 
 Yet in her innermost heart a deeper wears Queen Cythersea. 
 Round the fair dead boy his hounds pace, dismally howling ; 
 Round him the hill-spirits weep ; but chiefest of all Aphrodite, 
 Letting her bright hair loose, goes wild through the depths of the forest 
 Passionate, panting, unkempt ; with feet unsandalled whose beauty 
 Thorn-bushes tear as she passes, and drip with the blood of the Goddess. 
 Bitterly bitterly wailing, down all the long hollows she hurries, 
 Calling him Husband and Love — her Boy — her Syrian Hunter. 
 Meantime dead in his gore lieth he — from groin unto shoulder 
 Bloody ; from breast to thigh ; the fair young flank of Adonis, 
 Heretofore white as the snow, dull now, and dabbled with purple. 
 
BION. 193 
 
 AX at Tav KvOipeiav, iiraiaXovcnv ^'EpcoTe<s. 
 w\6<76 Tov KcCKJov dvBpa, auvaikeaev iepov e2So9. 
 KvTTpiBi fjLev KoKov elSoi, ore ^aietrKev ''ASavK, 
 KarOave 8' a fiop<f}a a-iiv 'ABaviSi KinrpiBos:, at at. 
 mpea iravra \er/ovTi, xal at Bpve<;, At tov "ABcoviv. 
 Kol iroTafiol KkaiovTi to, TrevOea ra? 'A<ppoBlTa<;, 
 Kol irar/aX tov "ABavtv ev aipeat BaKpvovn, 
 avOea S' e^ oBvva<; ipvdaiveTM' d Se KvOrjpa 
 •7ra.VTa<i dva Kvafj,a)<;, dva ttSlv vavo'; OLKTpov deiSei. 
 
 At at Tav Kvdipeiav, dirdXeTO Kd\,o<} "AScovi^. 
 d'^u) B' dvTe^oaaev, dircoXeTO Ka\b<; "ABcovk. 
 'KinrpiBo<; alvov epcoTa tI^ ovk eKKavaev av ; at a'L 
 <a? XBev, «B9 ev6r)<rev 'ABaviSo^ da"X£Tov eX/co?, 
 «? t'Se (poivtov alfia fiapatvo/Mevm irepl firjp^, 
 iTd')(ea<i dfiTreTacracra, KtvvpeTo, Meivov ''ABtovi, 
 BvairoTfie fielvov ''ABcovi, iravvcTTaTOV w? o-e Kiyeiw, 
 &<; (76 TrepiiTTV^co, koI 'XjeiXea ^j^etXetrt fil^co. 
 
 Ai ! ai ! woe for Adonis ! the Loves say, "woe for Adonis !" 
 That which hath killed her sweet lover hath killed a grace which was god- 
 like ! 
 Perfect the grace seemed of Cypris so long as Adonis was living ; 
 Gone is her beauty now — ai ! ai ! gone dead with Adonis : 
 All the hills echo it — all the oaks whisper it, " Ah, for Adonis ! " 
 Even the river- waves ripple the sorrows of sad Aphrodite, 
 Even the springs on the hills drop tears for the hunter Adonis ; 
 Yea, and the rose-leaves are redder for grief ; for the grief Cytherjea 
 Tells in the hollow dells, and utters to townland and woodland. 
 
 Ai ! ai ! Lady of Cyprus, " Lo ! dead is my darling Adonis ! " 
 Echo answers thee back, " Oh ! dead is thy darling Adonis." 
 Who, good sooth, but would say, Ai ! ai ! for her passionate story ? 
 When that she saw and knew the wound of Adonis — the death-wound — 
 Saw the blood come red from the gash, and the white thigh a-waning, 
 Wide outraught she her arms, and cried, " Ah ! stay, my Adonis ! 
 Stay for me, ill-starred love ! — stay ! stay ! till I take thee the last time, 
 Hold thee and fold thee, and lips meet lips, and mingle together. 
 
 N 
 
194 
 
 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 &Ypeo tVtOov ''AScovi, to B' au -Trufiarov fie cf>l\acrov 
 ToacTovTov fji,e (f>i\aaov, ocrov ^a>ei to t^tXajxa, 
 aypt,<; airo '^vvf)<; e? e'^aoi' (tto/jlu Ket? e/juov rjirap 
 TTvevfJia Teov pevarj, to Se <rev yXvici) ^tXTpov afieX^w; 
 €K Se TTio) Tov epo3Ta' ^iXa/ia Be tovto (pvXa^m, 
 (B? avTov TOV "AB(oviv eirel av fie, Buafiope, (pevjeK, 
 (fjevyei'i fnaKpov, "ABtovt,, Kot ep^eai ek 'A^^epovTa 
 Koi (TTir/vov ^aaiXrja Koi &yptov d Be ToXaiva 
 ^aia, Kal deb<; ififii, koi oil Bvvafiai ere Bi(OKe(,v. 
 \dfij3ave, Hepae^ova, tov ifiov irocnv eaal r^ap avTa 
 "TToXKov ifiev Kpeacrav to Be irdv KaXov e's ae KUTappei 
 elfu S' eyo) Travd-TroTfio'i, e'^o) S" uKopecrTov dvvqv, 
 Kal Kkaia tov "ABcoviv, 6 fiot Odve, koX cre (po^evfiai. 
 dvdaKet<;, & TpiiroOaTe' irodot; Be fioi co? ovap e-TTTTj. 
 XVPV ^' "■ KvOepeta, Kevol S' dva BcofiaT "Epa>Te<;. 
 aol B' dfua keitto? oXcoXe- tI yap ToXft,r]pe icvvcuyei<i ; 
 KaXo^ ecov TocraovTOV efirjvao Otjpo'i, TraXaieiv ; 
 
 Rouse thee — a little, Adonis ! kiss back for the last time, beloved ! 
 
 Kiss me — kiss me — only so long as the life of a kiss is ! 
 
 So I may suck from thy soul to my mouth, to my innermost heart-beat, 
 
 All the breath of thy life, and take the last of its love-spell 
 
 Unto the uttermost drop — one kiss ! I vi^ill tenderly keep it 
 
 As I did thee, my Adonis, sith thou dost leave me, Adonis ! 
 
 Far thou dost go and for long — thou goest to the region of shadows. 
 
 Unto a hateful and pitiless Power, and I, the unhappy, 
 
 Live ! and alack ! am a goddess, and cannot die and go after ; 
 
 Take thou my spouse, dark Queen, have here my husband, as thou art 
 
 Stronger by far than I, and to thee goeth all that is goodly. 
 
 Utterly hapless my fate, and utterly hopeless my grief is. 
 
 Weeping my love who is dead, and hating the Fate that hath slain him. 
 
 Fled is my joy, like a dream ; thou art dead, thrice lovely and longed for ! 
 
 Queen Cythera^a is widowed — the Loves in my bowers are idle — 
 
 Gone my charmed girdle with thee ; why, rash one, went'st thou a-himting 'i 
 
 Mad wert thou, being so fair, to match thee with beasts of the forest." 
 
BION. 195 
 
 /2S' o\o<f)VpaTO Kvwpt<;' eiraiatpvabv "Epare^, 
 at, at rav K.v6epeiav, dTrcoXero KaXo<{ "ASmvK. 
 SaKpvov a IIa<f)ia toctctov %eetj oaaov ''ABcovk 
 alfxa %eef Tci he irdvTa frorl ')(dovl 'yvyverai av6rj. 
 alfia poSov TLKTet, to, Be hdicpva rav dveficovav. 
 
 Alcdjco Tov ''ABmviv CLTTcoXero kuXo'; ''ABeovi<; 
 Ixr/iceT ev\ Bpv/jLolcri, tov dvepa fjuvpeo, Kinrpo. 
 ecTT dr/add ari^di, eartv ^ABcoviBi, c^i/Wa? eTolfia- 
 XeKTpop e)(ei,, Kvdepeia, to crov ToBe veKpo<; "ABcovk 
 Kal veKv^ a)v /caXo? ecrrt, KaXo^ veicv^, ola KadevBoav. 
 KaTOeo vuv fiaXaKOK ivl cjjdpecriv, ok eviavev, 
 Tot? fieTo, aeu dvd vvKTa tov lepbv virvov ifio'^dei, 
 iray^pvcrrp KXivTrjpi,' irodec Kal aTvyvov ''ABcoviv. 
 /SaXXe S' ivl aTe^dvoiai, Kai dvOeaf Travra aw avTa>, 
 to? TTjvo'i TeOvaice, Kal dvdea ttuvt efj^apdvOrj. 
 halve Be jxiv KoXoiaiv a\ei<j}acn, paive fjnipoiai. 
 oXkvadco p-vpa irdvTa- to crov fivpov wXer' "ABwvi,'=;. 
 KeKXiTai a/3/309 ''ABavK iv e'lfiaai, iropcfsvpeoicnv 
 
 So grieved the Lady of Cyprus — the young Loves vi^ept for her sorrow, 
 Saying, " Ai ! ai ! Cythersea ! gone dead is her darling Adonis." 
 Drop by drop as the hunter bleeds, the tears of the Goddess 
 Fall and blend Yi^ith the blood, and both on the ground become flowers ; 
 Rose-blossoms grow from the blood, and wind-lilies out of the tear-drops. 
 
 Ai ! ai ! comely Adonis — gone dead is the god-like Adonis ; 
 Wander no longer bewailing in glade and in thicket, sad lady ! 
 Fair is his bed of leaves, and fragrant the couch where the dead lies. 
 Dead, but as lovely as life — yea, dead — but as lovely as sleep is ; 
 Lap him in mantles of silken — such robes as he once took delight in 
 Wlien by thy side he passed in caresses the season of starbeams. 
 Lulled on a couch of gold — though dead, the raiments become him ; 
 Heap on him garlands and blossoms and buds, entomb them together ; 
 When that Adonis died, the flowers died too, and were withered ! 
 Rain on him perfumes and odours, shed myrrh and spices upon him ; 
 Let all delightful things die and go with him, for dead is the dearest. 
 So lies he lovely, in death-shroud of purple, the fair young Adonis ; 
 
 N 2 
 
Iq6 the poets of GREECE. 
 
 diJ,(f>l Be fMv KKaLOVTe<; avacrTevdyovcrw "Epcore'}, 
 
 KeipdjjLevoi, ^(aiTas; eir ^ABcoviSf ^&> fiev otcrTW?, 
 
 09 8' iirl To^ov ejSaiv, 09 S' evmepov wye (j^aperpav 
 
 ■)(w fjiev eXvcre ireSiXov 'ABmviBo'i' 09 Be Xe^r]TL 
 
 •^pvcrela} <J30per]aLV vBap' 6 Be firjpLa Xovef 
 
 09 S' oTTiOev TTTepvyecrcriv dvay^v)(ei tov "ABcovlv. 
 
 AvTov TOV Kvdipeiav hraiaZpvcnv "Epa)re<;. 
 ecr^eae Xa/MTrdBa iraaav evrt cfyKiai'i TfJievaw^, 
 Kal a-re^o'i i^eireTaacre r^a^ir^Kiov. ovk en B' 'Tfidv, 
 'Y/J,dv OVK eV deiBofievov fJie\,o<; aBerai, at at, 
 at at' Kal tov "ABcoviv en ifKeov, rj Tfievaio^, 
 ai Xdpire^ KXaiovTi, tov vlea tco Ktvvpao, 
 ftiXero Ka\o<; "ABcovk, iv dXKrfXTjaL Xeyoicrai' 
 Kal Moicrai tov ''ABojviv dvaKXaiovcnv "ABcoviv, 
 Kai fiiv eiraeiBovciV 6 Be acpicTiv ovk eTraKover 
 oil fiav OVK edeKei, Kd)pa Be fiiv ovk aTToXvei. 
 
 Afjje yowv, Kvdepeia, Tocrrj^epov i(T')(eo KOfi/xav 
 Bel ere irdXiv KXavaai, irdXiv el's eT0<; dXXo BaKpvaai. 
 
 Round about his couch the Loves go piteously wailing, 
 
 Tearing their hair for Adonis ; and one has charge of his arrows, 
 
 One of his polished bow, and one of his well-feathered quiver; 
 
 One unclasps his sandal, and one in a water-pot golden 
 
 Brings bright water to lave his limbs, and one at the bier-head 
 
 Fans with her pinions the forehead and eyes of the sleeping Adonis. 
 
 Ah ! but for Cypris herself the young Loves son-ow the sorest ; 
 Quenched are the marriage-lamps in the halls of the God Hymenseus, 
 Scattered his marriage crowns ; no more he sings, " Hymen, oh ! Hymen,'' 
 " Hymen !" no more is the song he goes singing, but evermore ai ! ai ! 
 " Ah, for Adonis," he cries, and " Ah !" say the Graces, " Adonis !" 
 More than the marriage-god even, they weep for the Syrian huntsman, 
 One to the other still saying, ' ' Dead — dead is the lovely Adonis ! " 
 All the nine Muses bewail — but he hears no more music and singing, 
 Nay, not if that he would ; Fate holds him fast and for ever. 
 
 Cease, Cytheraea, thy sobs ; a little while rest from thine anguish, 
 Soon must thy tears flow again, and again comes the season of sorrow. 
 
MOSCHUS. 
 
 Of the life of Moschus no details exist ;, it is doubtful 
 where and when he lived, and the surest piece of history 
 about him is the passage already quoted, wherein the 
 poet speaks of Theocritus as his contemporary. In the 
 long elegy which he has left upon Bion, he calls himself 
 the " heir " of the second of the Sicilian Trio. Nor was 
 he undeserving so proud a name, for his remaining 
 verses are of the true Sicilian softness, as may be judged 
 by the two extracts given. Let no one care too much 
 for dates and dry particulars of such lives as these three 
 Dorian poets must have led. Enough that the dying 
 flower of Grecian poesy was nursed by them into such 
 various but lovely colour in the rich Trinacrian air. 
 Moschus, albeit the least and last of the three, hardly 
 has his rival, nevertheless, for fineness of ear and nice 
 taste in words ; and this sonnet or little idyll of his has 
 been famous ever since the poet made it, lying amid 
 the asphodel by Arethusa : — 
 
 Tav aXa rav y7\Mvicav orav covefio^ drpifia ^aXKy, 
 rav (ppeva Tav Sei\av epeOitpfiai, oi/S' eri fioo 7a 
 evrX <f}l\a, iroTor/ei Se ttoXv ifKeov dfifie <ydKdva. 
 <i\X' orav a/xijcrrj TroXto? ^vdoi, a Be 6aXacraa 
 
 When winds that move not its calm surface sweep 
 
 The azure sea, I love the land no more : 
 The smiles of the serene and tranquil deep 
 
 Tempt my unquiet mind. But when the roar 
 
198 
 
 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 KvpTov iiracppL^ri, to. Be KV/xara fJMKppL fiefirjvrj, 
 
 69 yOova waiTTaiva) koX SevBpea, rav S' aXa <pevyw 
 
 ya Be fioi aa-TTacTTd, %' a BdcTKio<; evaBev vka, 
 
 ev6a Kai, rjv nvvevar] iroXix; ave/u-o^, a ttiti/? dBei. 
 
 fj KUKOV 6 rypiireii'; ^a>eo /S/ov, a, Bo/u.o'; d vav<;, 
 
 KoX TTOvo'i eVTi OaXacraa, km l'^6v<; a. "TfKavo^ dypa. 
 
 avTap ifMol lyXvKV^ VTrvo<i inro ifKaTavfp ^a6v(f)vX\<p, 
 
 Kol 7rcvyd<i (j>ikeoi,/j,i tov lyyvdev ?]Xov ctKoveiv, 
 
 a Tepirei ■^o^koiaa tov dypiov, ov-^^l Tapdaaei. 
 
 Of ocean's, grey. abyss resounds, and foam 
 
 Gathers upon the sea, and vast waves burst, 
 I turn from that drear aspect to the home 
 
 Of earth and its deep woods, where, interspersed, 
 AVhen winds blow loud pines make sweet melody ; 
 Whose house is some lone bark, whose toil the sea, 
 Whose prey the wandering fish — an evil lot 
 Hath chosen. But I my languid limbs will fling 
 Beneath the plane, where the brook's murmuring 
 Moves the calm spirit, but disturbs it not. Shelley. 
 
 One more pretty, sparkling piece of Greek, and we 
 have done with the sweetest trio of singers in all the 
 Pan-Hellenic choir. Charming itself, it is rendered note 
 for note throughout its playful music by the same delicate 
 English voice. Moschus sings : — 
 
 "Hpa Hdv 'A'^Sit; Td<i yelTovo<;, -Sjparo S' '-4^a) 
 aKipTrjrd ^arvpui, HdTvpo? 8' iirefialveTO AvBa, 
 0)1 'A')((b TOV Udva, Toaov SdTvpo'; (j)Xeyev ^Aj^Si, 
 KoX AvBa SuTvpiaKov epco'; 8' eafiv-yeT d/Moi^a. 
 ocracv jdp Trjvwv rk ifilaee tov <j)iXeovTa, 
 Toaaov o/iw? (piXecov ey^Oaipero, Trda'^^e 8' diroiva. 
 TavTa Xiyeo irdaiv Ta BiBdr/fiaTa rot? dvepdoTOi'i' 
 (TTepyeTe tov<; (fnXeovTW;, Xv , rjv ^CkerjTe, (ptXriade. 
 
MOSCHUS. 199 
 
 Shelley's translatiop runs : — 
 
 Pan loved his neighbour Echo, but that child 
 
 Of Earth and Air pined for the Satyr leaping ; 
 The Satyr loved with wasting madness blind 
 
 The bright nymph Lyda — so the three went weeping. 
 As Pan loved Echo, Echo loved the Satyr, 
 
 The Satyr Lyda — and so love consumed them. 
 And so to each, which was a woful matter, 
 
 To bear what they inflicted Justice doomed them : 
 For inasmuch as each might hate tlie lover, 
 
 Each loving, so was hated. Ye that love not 
 Be warned ; in thought turn this example over. 
 
 That when ye love the like return ye prove not ! Shelley, 
 
BABRIUS. 
 
 Babrius, or Gabrias, for his very name is disputed 
 as well as his date, wrote fables in choliambic verse, 
 which were called " Mythiambes." It is not long that 
 the admirable little apologues of this author have been 
 in the possession of scholars. The labours of Berges at 
 Munich, and the lucky trouvaille of a MSS. in a convent 
 at Mount Athos, containing one hundred and twenty 
 three of the parables of Babrius, have restored one of the 
 most ingenious and lively writers of the latest period of 
 Greek art to his rights. No fabulist can well be original, 
 for fables have been the work of the wit of mankind 
 from the earliest days, and the " mythiambist " only 
 collects and epigrammatises them. But .the Greek of 
 Babrius is clear and neat, and his style remarkable — the 
 more so, if, as some think, he was a Roman living in the 
 East, and no Greek or Byzantine. 
 
RHIANUS. 
 
 Among the few writers who kept up elsewhere the fading 
 traditions of Greek song during the third century before 
 Christ, this one, native of Bena in Crete, is to be men- 
 tioned. Originally a slave in a gymnasium, he rose to 
 considerable reputation as an epical and historical poet. 
 He wrote the " Heracleid," " Thessalica," " Messeniaca," 
 " Achaica," and " Eliaca," of which very scanty fragments 
 are remaining ; together with a few scattered epigrams. 
 
ARATUS. 
 
 This astronomical versifier compiled a volume called 
 " Appearances and Signs," which was held good enough 
 to be translated into Latin verse by Cicero, Germanicus, 
 and Avienus. It described the constellations, and dis- 
 coursed upon the influences of the heavenly bodies. 
 Virgil was under obligations to Aratus for passages in 
 his " Georgics," and a world of grammarians and mathe- 
 maticians have made the Cilician writer their subject. 
 It is from Aratus that St. Paul quoted as " one of your 
 own poets" to the Athenians, citing the words tov yap 
 Kal lyevo'; eafjLev, in the 17th chapter of the Acts of the 
 Apostles. 
 
NICANDER. 
 
 Poet, physician, and grammarian, Nicander was born at 
 Claros, near Colophon, where he held the hereditary 
 office of priest of Apollo. He was a man of high 
 science for his time, and his researches and conclusions 
 were embodied in two works called respectively Theriaca, 
 treating of " Antidotes against the bites of venomous 
 animals," and Alexipharmaca, or "Antidotes against 
 poisons." Nicander, though a credulous and unreliable 
 naturalist and savant, has some ingenious suggestions 
 and valuable observations. He was the first to explain 
 the mechanism of the serpent's poison-fang; and his 
 remarks on many animals are full of the signs of close 
 study. Still, we find him believing that wasps are pro- 
 duced from horseflesh in a putrid state ; and in his 
 treatise on mineral poisons he only knows, or seems to 
 know, of whitelead and litharge. The Greek of these 
 rhymed treatises upon medicine is extremely polished, 
 and the general correctness and good sense of his 
 physiological views such as to command admiration — 
 regard being had to the age in which he lived. 
 
LUCIAN, OPPIAN, WITH OTHERS. 
 
 Hermesianax, the writer of love-poems to the beautiful 
 but profligate Leontium ; and Meleager, the collector of 
 epigrams under the title of Srecjyavo';, need not arrest this 
 closing review ; while Lucian, the witty, bitter, tasteful 
 satirist of Samosata, belongs to the history of Greek 
 prose, albeit he wrote certain agreeable verses of society. 
 Yet, excepting Lucian's far-fetched epigrams, we scarcely 
 find a voice perpetuating in Greek the culture of the 
 Muses during the three centuries preceding Oppian and 
 Proclus. Heliodorus, the author of the first real novel, 
 wrote a poem on alchymy. Oppian, a native of Cilicia, 
 preceded him, living in the time of Septimius Severus 
 and Caracalla, and wrote upon subjects connected with 
 field sports. His " Cynegetica," or treatise on hunting, 
 was so much to the taste of the Emperor Caracalla, 
 that a piece of gold was given to the fortunate poet for 
 every line. He died of the plague at Anaxarbus, a town 
 of Cilicia, in the thirtieth year of his age ; and an epitaph 
 declared upon his tomb that Oppian had been called to 
 the society of the gods because he already excelled all 
 mankind. Beside the " Cynegetica," Oppian — or another 
 poet of the same name, as is maintained by some — 
 composed " Halieutica," or a " Discourse on Fishing," and 
 " Ixeutica," or a " Discourse on Fowling." The style 
 of Oppian is animated and ornate ; his descriptions are 
 lively and just, and Bufifon himself has not hesitated to 
 draw upon the young naturalist for facts and particulars. 
 
MUS^US. 
 
 The date of this writer is much disputed, and has been 
 variously fixed at terms between the third and thirteenth 
 centuries after Christ — but the purity of diction, and the 
 numberless graces of " the grammarian's " style, give to 
 his poem upon "Hero and Leander" a claim to be 
 quoted among the classics of Hellas, whatever its precise 
 period. There are certainly signs about it of a very 
 late age in Grecian composition, and some images and 
 conceits are excessively modern in character. The story, 
 however, is in itself so world-wide and tender, and 
 Musseus narrates it with such liveliness and sympathy 
 for the lovers, that it shall be cited freely enough to 
 show all its best passages. 
 The poem thus opens : — 
 
 Elire, 06a, icpv^icov iirifidprvpa Xii'^vov epdnav, 
 Kol vv')(i,ov TrXMTrjpa daXaacroiropaiv vfievaicov, 
 Kol rydfwv d')(Kv6evra, tov ovk I'Sev a<j>diTO^ J?(B9, 
 Kal Htjcttov koX "A^vBov, ottt] jdfio^ evvv^o'i 'Hpov<;. 
 vqvop.evov re AeavBpov ofiov koX Xv^vov dicovco, 
 Xvvvov aTToryyeWovTa BiaKTopiriv ^AcppoSi.Trj'i, 
 
 Sing, Muse, the beacon gleaming bright above, 
 That lit the nightly swimmer to his love ; 
 The hidden meeting, and the midnight tide 
 Which bore the bridegroom to his watchful bride ; 
 The marriage-robes sea-soaked, the moist embrace, 
 Abydos' town, and Sestos — Hero's place ; 
 
2o6 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 'Hpov'i vuKnydfioto r^ajMoaTokov ayyeXmrriv, 
 Xvxyov, epuiro<i dyaXfia, rbv cojieXev aldepio'; Zewi 
 ivvvxMV iJ-er aeOXov wyeiv h o/J-yjyvpiv darpcov, 
 Kai jMiv i-micXrja-ai vvfi^OTToXov aarpov ipu)Tcov, 
 OTTi ireXev avvepido'i ipcofiavecov oBvvacov 
 ar/yeXi7]v t e^vXa^ev aKoofiijrcov vfj,evaia)P, 
 Tvplv ■xctXe-TTOV TTVOi^criv ariiievai e^dpov drjTrjv. 
 dXX' dye jmi, fj,sX'7rovTi, p-iav avvdeiBe TeXevrrjv 
 XvYvov a^ewvfievoLO, ical oXXvuevoco AedvSpou. 
 
 Htjo-to'? erjv ical ''A^vSo<; ivavriov, iyyvdi ttovtov, 
 yeiTovh eiai, TroXrjea" 'Epco^ S', dvd To^a Turawoav, 
 dp.^oTeprj'i irroXieaaw eva ^werjKev oIcttov, 
 rfWeov ipXi^a^ Kol irapOevov ovvojxa S avrSyv 
 ijjiepoeK re AeavSpo'; er}v, Kal irapdevo'i Hpco. 
 7) fjLev X^tjTov evaiev, 6 Se TrroXiedpov 'A^vBov, 
 d/ji,(fioTepcov iroXuov TrepiicaXXee'; acrrepe? aficjjo), 
 
 Longing Leander on the salt-wave's crest, 
 The lamp that led him to 'sweet Hero's breast ; 
 Kind lamp — love's jewel— which the mighty Jove 
 Might well have taken to the orbs above, 
 And set it shining in the spangled sky 
 To be Love's star of all Heaven's company, 
 Seeing it was the planet of their bliss. 
 The glittering summons to the sleepless kiss, 
 ■ Till the hard waves made end of him and this : 
 But help, high Muse ! and teach me how to sing 
 Leander's death and lamp's extinguishing. 
 
 Sestos and white Abydos, cities twain, 
 Fronted each other upon Helle's main. 
 God Eros there, setting his shaft to string, 
 Wounded two bosoms with one shaft-shooting ; 
 A maiden's and a youth's — Leander he. 
 And lovely Hero, Sestos' sweetest, she : 
 Each of each town the very best and boast, 
 A noble pair. If ever to that coast 
 
MUSALUS. 
 
 eiKekoi aXKrj\oi(7b. ah S', et irore KeWi ireprjcreK, 
 Bi^so jMoi riva Trvpyov, OTrt] irore ^rjcTTMii 'Hpeo 
 Lcrraro, Xif)(yov eypvcra, koX rjyef/^oveve AedvSpa- 
 Si^eo S' apxaCrjs aXi.r]^ea iropd/^bv 'A^iiBou, 
 etcrert ttov icKaiovTa fiopov koI epara AedvBpou. 
 uXXa TTodev AelavBpo^, 'A^uBodt Bio/Mara vaiav, 
 Hpov'i e? TTodov ^\6e, ttoQw S' iveB'TjO'e koX avrijv ; 
 'Hpco fiev ')(apU(7(7a, Bi,0Tpecj)6<; alp,a Xa^ovcra, 
 KvTrpbBo^ ?]v iipeta, yd/j,(ov S' aSi'Sa/cTO? iovaa, 
 TTvpyov diro irpoyovcov irapa yeirovt vote 6aXd<jcrrj, 
 aXKr) Kinrpi<i dvaaaa- craocppocrvvp Be Kal alBol 
 ovSeiroT dypofjievriai iie0cofii,\7]ae yvvai^lv, 
 ovBe 'xppov 'xapievra fier^XvOev r/XiKO^ V^T!) 
 fiMfiov dXevofjbivr] ^rfX^jfj-ova drjXvTepdav 
 Kal yap eV dr/Xairj ^riX'^fiovh elcn yvvalice<;- 
 cDOC alel KvOepeiav iXacrKOfievr] ^A^poBiTTjv, 
 TToXXdKi Kal Tov ' Epmra Traprjyopeea-Ke dvrjXal'i 
 
 Thou goest, inquire for Hero's tower, and roam 
 Where she Love's light-house nightly did illume. 
 Inquire for white Abydos, too, and muse 
 Where young Leander life and love did lose ; 
 But now to tell how he fair Hero loved, 
 And how the maid to dote on him was moved. 
 
 Honey-sweet Hero, of a god-like race, 
 Was priestess to Queen Venus in that place ; 
 And in her father's house by the sea set 
 Herself a Queen of Love, though virgin yet, 
 Dwelt ; yet for modesty and beauty's shame 
 She never to the city-markets came. 
 Nor mingled with the feast-days or the dance. 
 Lest envious eyes upon her eyes should glance ; 
 For those ill-favoured flout at fairer faces ; 
 But ever in the holy temple-places 
 She worshipped rose-lipped Venus, queen above, 
 
 207 
 
208 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 fiTjTpl <Tvv ovpavirj, (pXoyeprjv Tpofj.iovo'a (fyaperprjv. 
 oXK' oils' ft)? aXeeive •Trvpi/nvewvTa<; 6lcrTov<;. 
 
 And Eros eke, the tiny God of Love, 
 Beseeching that she might unscathed go, 
 Yet not the more 'scaped she delicious woe. 
 
 Musseus then describes a festival which took place 
 yearly in honour of Aphrodite, to which all the towns- 
 folk of Sestos and Abydos, with those of the neighbouring 
 cities, were wont to repair — and even the secluded Hero 
 always bore part in this great day of her goddess. Not 
 a maid or youth, indeed, lingered at home on such an 
 occasion — though the poet archly hints that the maidens 
 went more for the charming spectacle than anything 
 religious, and the youths that they might behold the 
 maidens. Among them, stateliest and loveliest, Hero 
 appears — 
 
 'H he 6efj<; ava mjov hrw^ero 'Tra,pdevo<; 'Hpw, 
 fjiapfJMpvyrjv )(api,evTO^ diraaTpaTrTova-a TrpocrcoTrov 
 via, re XevKOTrdprjo'; iiravTeWovaa (reKrjvr^. 
 aicpa Be ■^lovicov (fioiviacreTO Kvicka 'jrapeiSiv, 
 ft)? poBov eK KcCkiiKdiv hihv/MO'^oov rj To^a (f>ai'r]<; 
 Hpov'i ev fieXeecrcTi, poBcov Xei/M&va (j)ainjvai' 
 ■ypoLTji/ yap fji,e\ecov epvOaivero' viacro/xeinj'; Se 
 Kal poBa XevKO'^iTcavo'; inro cr(f>vpa XdfjurreTO Kovpr]<;, 
 
 And Hero, too, went up unto the shrine, 
 The beauty of her fair face all a-shine, 
 Like the pure Moon's when first she swims the sky ; 
 Her tender cheeks were touched with that soft dye 
 Which rosebuds show, when neither white nor red. 
 But crimson paled with milk. You would have said 
 She was all made of rose-leaf, she did show 
 So rose-bud pink under her thin robe's flow. 
 
MUS.-EC/S. 209 
 
 TToXXal S' Sk fieT^Atov Xapireis piov, ol Be iraXaiol 
 T/aet? XdpiTa<; ■\{rev<TavTO ire^vicevaf eh he rt? 'Hpov^ 
 6<f)daXfio<; yekoeov eKorov Xapirea-cn redrjkei,. 
 
 So roseate-necked, so rosy-footed. See ! 
 Of old they said the Graces were but three, 
 But each bright eye of Hero, as it seemed. 
 With love-lights of a hundred Graces gleamed. 
 
 The forced fancy of these latter lines exemplifies how 
 Greek poetry had declined from the stately simplicity of 
 old models. The poet proceeds to narrate what ardent 
 admiration Hero excited at the festival, and how Lean- 
 der, suddenly encountering her there, fell instantly in 
 love with the fair Sestian. Nor was she less struck 
 with the young townsman of Abydos. Her beautiful 
 eyes timidly return the messages of his; and Leander is 
 emboldened, when the evening star breaks up the festival, 
 to steal behind her in the throng, and then, 
 
 ^/96/xa fihr ffKijSwv poBoeiSea BdicnJKa Kovpr]<;, 
 /3v(Ta-60ev ioTovax^i^ev d6e<T<^aT0V' r) Be aimiry, 
 ota re j(oyofievri, poBer]v e^eoTraae J^etpa. 
 tB? S' ipaTT]^ ivorjcre '^aKi^pova vevfuna K0vp7)<i, 
 6apa-dSAoi<i ■jraXd/jLrj TToKvBaiBaXov I\k6 ^(iTwva, 
 eajfora TtfJ,i]evTO<; ar/eov eVt Kevdea vr}ov, 
 oKvaXeoK Be iroBecrinv e(f>ecr7reTo 7rapdevo<} Upas, 
 
 Lightly he touched her soft and rosy hand, 
 Heaving a deep sigh, plain to understand ; 
 And she, as one an angered, drew it in, 
 But so that he might see 'twas no great sin. 
 Then bolder, by her stole he took the maid, 
 And prayed her turn one minute to the shade ; 
 Whereat with pretty frown and faltering feet 
 
210 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 old-Trep ovK edeXovaa, roa-rjv B' aveveMaro (ficovrjv, 
 6r)\vTepoi<; iireea-criv arrreCKeiovcra Aedvhptp- 
 
 'Selve, Ti fiapyaivei<; ; rl fie, Svafiope, irapOevov eXiceif ; 
 aXKrjv hevpo KekevOov ifiov S' a-TroXet-Tre ■)(i,TSiva. 
 
 She turned and stayed, and said with chiding sweet — 
 " Sir ! are you mad ? How dare you hold me so? 
 " Leave phicking of my gown, and let me go,'' 
 
 But it all ends, nevertheless, in the " old, old story." 
 Leander pleads eloquently, and Hero is persuaded almost 
 before she begins to listen. They exchange information 
 as to each other's names and birth, and the minute grows 
 to an hour during which they thus linger talking. Hero 
 is in despair when she finds that the Hellespont flows 
 between her lover's town and her own ; but he passion- 
 ately declares the Hellespont is nothing : — 
 
 UapOeve, crov Bi epcora koL dypiov olS/j,a irepijaco, 
 el TTvpl TracpXd^oiTo, kol cnfKoov eaaerat liBcop. 
 oil Tpofiem ^apv '^evfia, rerjv fieTavevfiepoi; evvfjv, 
 oil ^pofiov r]j(r)evTa TrepnrraxTcroifit 6dKdaa7)<;. 
 dXh! alel Kara vincra (j)opevfJi.evo<; vypb<; aKoirr]';, 
 vrj^ofiai EXKrjcnrovTov drydppoov ov^ eicaOev yap 
 avTia aelo irokrjo^ e'^co TrroXieOpov 'A^vBov. 
 fiovvov ifiol eva Xv^vov dir rfKb^aTov crio Trvpyov 
 
 Sweet, for thy love the watery way I'd cleave, 
 
 Though foam were fire, and waves with flame did heave ; 
 
 I fear not billows if they bear to thee, 
 
 Nor tremble at the hissing of the sea ; 
 
 Do but one thing — set thine own lamp on high, 
 
 To shine at evening through the silent sky, 
 
 And I will be Love's ship, my pilot-star 
 
 That beam ; whereto oaring my way afar. 
 
MUS^US. 211 
 
 eK TTCjOaT')?? avd<f)Mve Kara Kvicf>a<;' ocj}pa voijaa^ 
 ea-a-o/iai oX/ca? "EpmTO<;, e^eov aedev aarepa Xvvvov. 
 Kai fjLvv OTmrrevcov Svvt oyjrofiat ovre Bocottjv, 
 ov Opacruv 'Slpuova, koX a^po)(ov oKkov ' Afid^r]<;- 
 Trar^too? dvmropoio ttoti yXvKvv opjxov iKoifJuqv. 
 dXKa, ^IXt], ire^vXa^o ^apvirveiovTa<; drjTa<;, 
 fir] fjLLv aTToa^eaaaxTi, Kal avTiKa dufJ-ov oKeaao). 
 
 I shall not see Bootes, nor the Wain, 
 And bright Orion will be bright in vain. 
 Only take heed, dear, of the winds, and shield 
 The light, that when I toil, by waves concealed. 
 It be not quenched by any envious blast, 
 Lest I go down, a ship and venture lost. 
 
 Hero agrees to this arrangement, and the lovers part ; 
 she to her tower, and Leander to Abydos, where he 
 counts the hours until the appointed night. Musaeus 
 then describes very charmingly how the youth watches 
 for the gleam of the lamp, and how, beholding it, he 
 casts himself into the sea-waves, after a prayer to Eros 
 and the Deity of the Deep. Hero, on her side, has 
 kindled the beacon, and stands shielding it against the 
 breezes with the folds of her garment ; while Leander 
 
 XafiTTO/Mevov S' eairevhev dh Karevavria \v-)(yov 
 di/TO? icov eperr]^, avToaroKo^, avTOjxaro'i vrjv^. 
 
 Steered with his face set hard where that ray shone. 
 Ship, pilot, rower, merchant, all in one. 
 
 He touches land at last, arrives beneath the tower, and 
 
 Hero 
 
 'Ek Be dvpdav 
 
 vu/M(j}iov daQfialvovra Trepiirrv^aa-a aicoTrrj, 
 
 O 2 
 
212 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 a^poK6fiov<; pa6d/iiyya<; en ard^ovTa OdXda-a-rjt;, 
 T]ycir/e vvfi^oKoiMOio iw)(pv^ hri •jrap6eu€&vo<;, 
 KCLi "Xpoa ttdina Kadype, Sifiw; S" ej(piev i\ai(p 
 evohfMp, poSeq), Kol oKIttvoov ea-^eaev ohjjurjv. 
 ela-en S" dcrdfiaivovTa ^aOvcrTpmroK ivl Xe/cr/jot? 
 vvfitfiiov d/Mfx^x^OeLo-a, (f)i\ijvopa^ ta'^e fivOov;' 
 
 Nvfi<j}ie, •TToXXoL /jboy^cra';, a fir) irdOe vvfi<pu>ii aXKot, 
 vv/jb^k, TToWa; fji,oyi]<ra<;, oXk vv rot SiXfwpov iiScop, 
 oS/jj'q T l)(dv6eaaa jSapvySovTroio daXda'ai}';' 
 Sevpo, Teous ISpSyrai efiol<; eviKardeo koXttoi';, 
 
 In gladness past all words her white arms flung 
 Round him, and on his panting bosom hung. 
 And led him from the cold and foamy beach 
 Up to her tower ; and when her room they reach, 
 She wiped his pearly body clean of brine, 
 And took the salt smell off with unguents fine. 
 In rose-leaves dyed and scented rich and rare ; 
 And then she clothed him with her own deep hair. 
 Yet panting from his voyage — while in his ear 
 She poured these tender accents : — 
 
 " Husband dear ! 
 " Sore hast thou toiled, as never one save thee, 
 " Battling the horrid deep to come to me : 
 " Forget upon my lips the waves' harsh taste, 
 " The fierce sea-monsters and the roaring waste. 
 " The port is reached : anchor, dear ship, and have 
 ' ' The goods you sailed for in your Hero's love. " 
 
 Many such delicious times Leander makes the pas- 
 sage ; but by-and-by the winter came, with wild storms 
 in the Hellespont — and yet neither can Hero refuse to 
 light her lamp, nor will her lover let the rough waves 
 keep him away. The whole world knows the sequel of 
 this ancient love story. One night, with more than " half 
 a gale" blowing from the Sestos shores, the beacon gleams 
 
MUSMVS. 213 
 
 out, and the swimmer starts ; but the storm blows the 
 flame out when Leander is half-way, and, overwhelmed 
 by the cruel billows, he is drowned, and flung ashore at 
 the foot of the tower. Hero, when the morning breaks, 
 beholds his corpse lying there, and flings herself down 
 to perish by his side. 
 
 Enough has been cited of this little Greek epic to 
 show that, whoever the author might be, it contains not 
 only real poetry, but a deep and vivid sympathy and 
 great power of narrative. Its faults are equally apparent, 
 and separate it entirely from the majestic severity of 
 ancient models, while they show how, under the subjec- 
 tive form of thinking characteristic of later times, the art 
 of verse became transformed, and not a little corrupted. 
 
PROCLUS. 
 
 Our long list of poets, which began with the grand 
 singing of Homer, and has faded away into such minor 
 musicians as Callimachus and Rhianus, such mere rhym- 
 ing professors as Nicander and Oppian, may end at least 
 with a most noble name. Proclus was born at Constan- 
 tinople in A.D. 412, and it is not too much to say that some- 
 thing eloquent from the greatest poet and something lofty 
 from the greatest philosopher of Hellas — an inheritance 
 at once of the melody of Homer and of the mind of Plato 
 — fell upon this last of the Greek minstrels. It is for his 
 philosophic works and career, no doubt, that Proclus is 
 best known. His commentary on the " Timseus " of Plato 
 was a masterpiece of erudition for the age. His mystic 
 and religious writings are deeply interesting ; and sublime 
 in theory and aim, even where most extravagant. In his 
 treatises on Providence, Fate, and Evil, he states with 
 eloquent force the doctrine that all pain and sorrow 
 spring from the limitation of human knowledge. In his 
 " Eighteen Arguments against the Christians," he main- 
 tains the eternity of the world — a favourite thesis of the 
 Platonists — and all these, as well as his other works, are 
 saturated with the ardent and spiritual nature of a soul 
 truly poetic and aspiring. A profound spirit characterises 
 the six religious poems which Proclus has left ; and it is 
 interesting to notice how, retaining the form, the names, 
 the mythological traditions of the hieratic and Orphic 
 
PROCL US. 215 
 
 poets, this Neo-Platonic philosopher and singer bends 
 all their old machinery to the needs of his time, teach- 
 ing the high hopes and daring innovations of the 
 Alexandrian school in the language of a religion which 
 had really died four hundred years back, at the time 
 when the Greek sailors heard that awful cry moaning 
 round the islands of the Echinades, " Great Pan is dead! " 
 These six hymns of Proclus close the long catalogue of 
 Hellenic poesy with a solemn apd tender strain. Take, 
 for example, his " Prayer to the Muses," which breathes 
 the spirit of an utterly new age, speaking though it does 
 in the phrases used twenty centuries back. It is, in fact, 
 an epitaph upon a buried religion, written in its own 
 disused hieroglyphics ; an elegy for Greek song, now at 
 last ending for ever, along with its beautiful false fables 
 and lovely intermingling of the lives of gods and men. 
 
 'Tiiveofiev, fiepoTrcov dvajayYiov v/iveofiep ^w?, 
 ivvea dir/aTipa<; fieyoKov Au)<: ar/Kcuxpcovov;, 
 ai ■\jnr)(a<;, Kara ^evdo<; aXcoofieva<; /StOTOto, 
 a^avToa reXeTrjcnv ijepaivocov airo jSi^Xcov 
 
 Glory and praise to those sweet lamps of earth, 
 
 The nine fair Daughters of Almighty Jove, 
 Who all the passage dark to death from birth 
 
 Lead wandering souls with their bright beams of love. 
 
 Through cares of mortal life, through pain and woe, 
 
 The tender solace of their counsel saves ; 
 The healing secrets of their songs forego 
 
 Despair ; and when we tremble at the waves 
 
 Of life's wild sea of murk incertitude. 
 
 Their gentle touch upon the helm is pressed. 
 Their hand points out the beacon-star of good, 
 
 Where we shall make our harbour, and have rest — 
 
2l6 THE POETS OF GREECE. 
 
 ftY^evkwv pvcravTO BvcravT-^Ttov oBvvdav, 
 
 KoL airevheiv iBiBa^av xnrep ^a6ir)(evfiova Xijdijp 
 
 L'Xyo'i ej^ew, KoOapai; Be fioXetv ttotI irvvvofwv aarpov, 
 
 evOev aTreifKcuyxPrjcraVi or eh yevedX'^iov aicTTjv 
 
 KcmTreaov, liKorpaefiecrcri, Trepl KKripoiai fiaveiaai. 
 
 aXka, 6eal, koI i/jLeio iroXvTTTolrjTov iparjv 
 
 Travaare, Koi voepol^ fjue (ro<f)S>v ^aKxevcrare fivdon' 
 
 firjBe fi airoirKap/^eiev BeicriBimv <yepo^ avBpatv 
 
 arpainTov \ja6eq<;, ipi<p6yyeo<;, ar/KaoKapirov 
 
 alel S' 6^ ofidBoio iroKxnfKarfKTOio <yeve0\7j<; 
 
 eK/cer ifirjv ylfirxrjv iravaXijfiova ttjOO? <j)do<; dyvov, 
 
 vfierepav ^plOova-av ae^ivocnv diro ^ipKicov, 
 
 Kal KXeo^ eveirir]^ (ppevode'Kfyio'; alev e')(pvaav. 
 
 KKvre deal ao^lrji i€pfj<; oir]Ka<! e^ovTe?, 
 
 oi '\jrv^a<t jMepoTrmv, dvar^(ayu>v dyjrdfjbevoi irvp. 
 
 The planet of our home wherefrom we fell, 
 Allured by this poor show of lower things, 
 
 Tempted among earth's dull deceits to dwell : 
 But oh ! great Sisters, hear his prayer who sings. 
 
 And calm the restless flutter of his breast, 
 
 And fill him with the thirst for wisdom's stream ; 
 
 Nor ever suffer thoughts or men unblest 
 To turn his vision from the eternal beam. 
 
 Ever and ever higher, from the throng 
 
 Lawless and witless, lead his feet aright 
 Ijife's perils and perplexities among. 
 
 To the white centre of the sacred light. 
 
 Feed him with food of that rich fruit which grows 
 On stems of splendid learning — dower him still 
 
 With gifts of eloquence to vanquish those 
 
 Who err — let soft persuasion change their will. 
 
 Hear, heavenly Sisters, hear ! oh, ye who know 
 The vrinds of wisdom's sea, the course to steer ; 
 
 Who light the flame that lightens all below, 
 And bring the spirits of the perfect there 
 
PROCLUS. 217 
 
 eKxer i<s aOavaTovi, ctkotiov KevdfiSwa Xnrova-a^, 
 vfivav apprfTOun Ka6rjpd/j,evoi, Tekerfjaf 
 icKvre traoaTrjpe<! /jLeydXoi, ^adieov S' diro iSi^Xeov 
 vevaar e/wl <f>do<; dypov, diroa'KeSaeravTe<i 6fJ.l)(\r]v, 
 o^pa Kev eu fvum 9eov afi^porov, ■^Be Kal avSpa. 
 /U.i;S' ifie \Tjdaioi,<; xnro '^(exiyMaw ovh/oa, pktfiiv 
 Baificov alev e^oi, futKcipcov dirdvevdev eovra. 
 fir) Kpv6prj<; <Yeve0X7)<! ivl KVfMwc ireTTTcoicviav 
 ■v^u^'^i' ovK eOeSavcrav epJqv hri hrjpov dXaaOai 
 Ilotvij Tt? Kpvoeacra ^lov hearfjuolai ireB^cTrj, 
 dXKa 6eol aotjybj^ iptXapmeo^ '^efiovfjei, 
 KeK\vr, iveir/o/jbivai Se tt/jo? wlri^opjjTov arapirov 
 opyui Kal TeKera^ lep&p dvtK^alvere fivOwv. 
 
 Where the immortals are, when this life's fever 
 
 Is left behind as a dread gulf o'erpassed ; 
 And souls, like mariners, escaped for ever, 
 
 Throng on the happy foreland, saved at last. 
 
 So bring, high Muses ! open me the scroll 
 
 Where Truth is vfrit in characters of fire ; 
 Roll from my eyes the mists of life — oh ! roll. 
 
 That I may have my spirit's deep desire. 
 
 Discerning the divine in undivine, 
 
 The god in man — the life of me in death ; 
 Nor let dire powers pluck this soul of mine 
 
 From its most precious hope — to merge beneath 
 
 Deep floods of black oblivion, far from bliss. 
 From light, from wisdom — never let their doom 
 
 Shut my lost soul in such despair as this, 
 My soul that is so weary of the gloom ! 
 
 But hear and help, ye wise and shining Nine ! 
 
 I yearn and strive towards your heavenly side ; 
 Teach me the secret of the mystic sign. 
 
 Give me the lore that guards, the words that guide. 
 
THE PRINCIPAL ERAS IN GREEK 
 LITERATURE. 
 
 (FROM UDDELL AND SCOTT.) , 
 
 I. The Early Epic Period, comprising tlie Iliad and Odyssey, the Homeric 
 Hymns, and the Poems of Hesiod. 
 H. From about 800 to 530 A. c, in which Literature chiefly flourished in 
 Asia Minor and the Islands ; the Period of the early Lyric, Elegiac, 
 and Iambic Poets. 
 
 III. From 530 to 510 A.C., the Age of Peisistratus, &c. ; the beginning of 
 
 Tragedy at Athens. 
 
 IV. From 510 to 470 A.c, the Age of to n^pa-iKd, in which the Great 
 
 Tragic Poets began to exhibit, and Simonides and Pindar brought 
 Lyric Poetry to perfection. 
 V. From 470 to 431 A.C., the Age of Athenian Supremacy : perfection of 
 Tragedy. 
 VI. From 431 to 403 A.C., the Age of the Peloponnesian War : perfection 
 
 of the Old Comedy. 
 VII. From 403 to about 336, the Age of Spartan and Theban Supremacy, 
 and of Philip : Middle Comedy. 
 VIII. From about 336 to the Roman Times : (i) Macedonian Age : New 
 Comedy. (2) Alexandrian Age : later Epic and Elegiac writers, 
 Callimachus, Theocritus, ApoUonius Rhodius, &c. 
 IX. Roman Age : Epigrammatic Poets. The revived Atticism of Lucian, 
 the Sophists, &c. 
 
COMPLETE LIST OF GREEK POETS. 
 
 
 Floruit 
 
 CIRCA 
 
 
 A.C. 
 
 P.C. 
 
 Achseus, Tragicus 
 
 ... 447 
 
 
 
 ^schylus, Tragicus ... ... (Date of 
 
 first prize) 484 
 
 — 
 
 Agatho, Tragicus 
 
 ... 416 
 
 
 
 Alcaeus, Lyricus ... 
 
 ... 610 
 
 
 
 Comicus (Vet) 
 
 ... 388 
 
 
 
 Alcman, Lyricus ... 
 
 ... 650 
 
 — 
 
 Alexis, Comicus (Med.) 
 
 ... 356 
 
 — 
 
 Alexander, Comicus (Incert. ) 
 
 ■ •■ 350? 
 
 — 
 
 Amipsias, Comicus (Vet.) ... 
 
 ■•■ 423 
 
 — 
 
 Araphis, Comicus (Med.) ... 
 
 •■■ 35° 
 
 — 
 
 Anacreon, Lyricus 
 
 •■■ S59 
 
 — 
 
 Ananius, lambographus ... 
 
 - 540? 
 
 — 
 
 Anaxandrides, Comicus (Med. ) 
 
 ... 376 
 
 — 
 
 Anaxilas, Comicus (Med.)... 
 
 •■• 340 
 
 — 
 
 Anaxippus, Comicus (Nov.) 
 
 ■•• 303 
 
 — 
 
 Antidotus, Comicus (Med. ) 
 
 ••■ 350 
 
 — 
 
 Antimachus, Elegiacus 
 
 ... 405 
 
 — 
 
 Antipater Sidonius 
 
 ... 127 
 
 — 
 
 Thessalonicensis ... ^ ... 
 
 ... — 
 
 50 
 
 Antiphanes, Comicus (Med.) 
 
 ... 388 
 
 — 
 
 ApoUodorus (tres, Comici Nov.) 
 
 330 
 " 1 260 
 
 
 
 Mythologus ... 
 
 ... 140 
 
 — 
 
 ApoUonius Rhodius, Epicus 
 
 ... 194 
 
 — 
 
 ApoUophanes, Comicus (Vet. ) 
 
 ... 407 
 
 — 
 
 Araros, Comicus (Med.) ... 
 
 - 375 
 
 — 
 
 Aratus, Poeta physicus 
 
 ... 272 
 
 — 
 
 Archedicus, Comicus (Nov. ) 
 
 ... 302 
 
 — 
 
 Archilochus, lambographus 
 
 ... 690 
 
 — 
 
222 
 
 COMPLETE LIST OF GREEK POETS. 
 
 Archippus, Comicus (Vet.) 
 Aristagoras, Comicus (Vet. ) 
 Aristias, Tragicus 
 Aristomenes, Comicus (Vet.) 
 Aristonymus, Comicus (Vet.) 
 Aristophanes, Comicus (Vet.) 
 Aristoplio, Comicus (Med.) 
 Asius, Elegiacus ... 
 Astydamas, Tragicus 
 AtheiiKus 
 
 Athenio, Comicus (Incert. ) 
 Autocrates, Comicus (Vet.) 
 Axionicus, Comicus (Med.) 
 Babrius, Fabularum Scriptor 
 Bacchylides, Lyricus 
 Bate, Comicus (Nov.) 
 Bion, Bucolicus ... 
 Callias, Comicus (Vet.) 
 Callicrates, Comicus (Med. ) 
 Callimachus, Epicus 
 Callinus, Elegiacus 
 Callippus, Comicus (Incert.) 
 Cantliarus, Comicus (Vet. ) 
 Cepliisodorus, Comicus (Vet.) 
 Chseremon, Tragicus 
 Chariclides, Comicus (Incert.) 
 Chionides, Coinicus (Vet.)... 
 Choerilus, Epicus... 
 Chcerilus, Tragicus 
 Clearchus, Comicus (Incert.) 
 Coluthus, Epicus... 
 Corinna, Lyrica ... 
 Crates, Comicus (Vet. ) 
 Cratinus, Major, Comicus (Vet.) 
 
 Minor, Comicus (Med.) 
 
 Critias, Elegiacus et Tragicus 
 Crito, Comicus (Incert.) 
 Crobylus, Comicus (Incert.) 
 Damoxenus, Comicus (Nov.) 
 
 (Tile Aa.iTa\€ts) 
 
 Floruit 
 
 A.C, 
 
 .. 410 
 .. 450 
 
 •■ 425 
 420 
 
 427 
 
 350? 
 700 
 
 398 
 
 CIRCA 
 P.C. 
 
 200? 
 
 350? 
 
 390 
 
 340 
 
 . . ? 
 
 472 
 
 260 
 
 272 
 
 424 
 
 350? 
 256 
 
 730 
 . . ? 
 420 
 402 
 380 
 . . ? 
 487 
 440 
 480 
 . . ? 
 
 500 
 450 
 454 
 350 
 411 
 ? 
 335 
 345? 
 
 500? 
 
COMPLETE LIST OF CREEK POETS, 223 
 
 Floruit circa 
 
 Demetrius (duo, Comici) ... ... ... ... ... W^ — 
 
 ■■■ (299 — 
 
 Demonicus, Comicus (Incert. ) ... ... ... ? 
 
 Dexicrates, Comicus (Incert.) ... ... ... ? _ 
 
 Dinolochus, Comicus Doricus ... ... ... ... 487 
 
 Diodes, Comicus (Vet.) ... ... ... ... ... 470 — 
 
 Diodonis, Comicus (Med.)... ...' ... ... ... 354 
 
 Dionysius, Comicus (Med. ) ... ... ... ... 350 
 
 Diopliantus, Comicus (Vet.) ... ... ... ? 
 
 Dioxippus, Comicus (Nov. ) ... ... ... ? 
 
 Diphilus, Comicus (Nov. )... ... ... ... ... 320 
 
 Dromo, Comicus (Med.) ... ... ... ... ... 350? 
 
 Ecphaiitides, Comicus (Vet. ) ... ... ... ... 460 
 
 Empedocles, Poeta philosophicus ... ... ... ... /\/^/ ^ 
 
 Epliippus, Comicus (Med. ) ... ... ... ... 368 
 
 Epicharmus, Comicus Syracusanus ... ... ... ... 500 — 
 
 Epicrates, Comicus (Med.)... ... ... ... ... 376 — 
 
 Epigenes, Comicus (Med.) ... ... ... ... 378 
 
 Epilycus, Comicus (Vet. ) ... ... ... ... ... 394 — 
 
 Epinicus, Comicus (Nov.) ... ... ... ... ... 270? — 
 
 Erinna, Lyrica ... ... ... ... ... ... 610? — 
 
 Eriphus, Comicus (Med. ) ... ... ... ... ... 350? I 
 
 Euangelus, Comicus (Incert.) ... ... ... ? 
 
 Eubulides, Comicus (Med. ) ... ... ... ... 350? 
 
 Eubulus, Comicus (Med.) ... ... ... ... ... 375 — 
 
 Eudoxus, Comicus (Nov.)... ... ... ... ? 
 
 Euenus, Elegiacus ... ... ... ... ... 450 
 
 Eunicus, Comicus (Vet) ... ... ... ... ... 394 — 
 
 Euphorion ... ... ... ... ... ... 235 — 
 
 Euphro, Comicus (Nov. ) ... ... ... ... ... 280 — 
 
 Eupolis, Comicus (Vet. ) ... ... ... ... . 429 — 
 
 Euripides, Tragicus ... ... (Date of first prize) 441 — 
 
 Euthycles, Comicus (Vet.)... ... ... ... ... 400? — 
 
 Hegemon, Comicus (Vet. )... ... ... ... ... 413 — 
 
 Hegesippus, Comicus (Nov. ) ... ... ... ... 300 — 
 
 Heliodorus, Scriptor Eroticus ... ... ... ... — 390 
 
 Heniochus, Comicus (Med.) ... ... ... ... 350? — 
 
 Heraclides, Comicus (Med. ) ... ... ... ... 348 — 
 
 Hermesianax, Elegiacus ... ... ... ... ... 290? — 
 
-f' 
 
 ' 
 
 224 COMPLETE LIST OF GREEK POETS. 
 
 
 
 Floruit cihca 
 
 
 A.C. P.C. 
 
 Hermippus, Comicus (Vet. ) 
 
 •• 432 — 
 
 Hesiodus, Epicus 
 
 .. . . ? 
 
 Hipparchus, Comicus (Nov. ) 
 
 .. 320 — 
 
 Hipponax, lambographus ... 
 
 .. 546 — 
 
 Homerus, Epicus 
 
 .. . . — 
 
 Ibycus, Lyricus ... 
 
 .. S60 - 
 
 Ion, Tragicus 
 
 ■• 451 — 
 
 Laon, Comicus (Incert.) ... ... ' ... 
 
 ,, , ,1, 
 
 Lasus, Dithyrambicus 
 
 •• 503 — 
 
 Leonidas Alexandrinus 
 
 .. — 60 
 
 Tarentinus 
 
 .. 280 ... 
 
 Leuco, Comicus (Vet.) 
 
 •• 423 — 
 
 Lucianus 
 
 — 160 
 
 Lycophron, lambographus (Alexandrinus) ... 
 
 ■• 259? — 
 
 Lynceus, Comicus (Nov.) ... 
 
 .. 300 — 
 
 Lysippus, Comicus (Vet.) ... 
 
 •• 434 — 
 
 Macho, Comicus (Nov.) ... 
 
 .. 230 — 
 
 Magnes, Comicus (Vet.) ... 
 
 .. 460 — 
 
 Melanippides, Dithyrambicus 
 
 .. 520 — 
 
 Meleager, Elegiacus 
 
 •• 95 — 
 
 Menander, Comicus (Nov.) 
 
 ■ ■ 321 — 
 
 Metagenes, Comicus (Vet.) 
 
 .. 410 — 
 
 Mimnermus, Elegiacus 
 
 • ■ 630 — 
 
 Mnesimachus, Comicus (Med.) 
 
 .. . . ? — 
 
 Moschus, Bucolicus 
 
 - 154 — 
 
 MusKus 
 
 ..? 
 
 Myrtilus, Comicus (Vet.) ... 
 
 ■ • 430 — 
 
 Nausicrates, Comicus (Med.?) 
 
 •• 350? — 
 
 Nicander, Po6ta physicus ... 
 
 .. 182 — 
 
 Nicochares, Comicus (Vet.) 
 
 .. 388 - 
 
 Nicolaus, Comicus (Incert. ) 
 
 .. ..? — 
 
 Nicomachus, Comicus (Nov. ?) 
 
 ,. . . ? 
 
 Nicophon, Comicus (Vet.) 
 
 .. 388 - 
 
 Nicostratus, Comicus (Med.) 
 
 .. 240? — 
 
 Nonnus, Epicus ... 
 
 .. — 500? 
 
 Ophelio, Comicus (Med.) .... 
 
 •• 370 — 
 
 Oppianus, Poeta physicus ... 
 
 — 204 
 
 Orphica... 
 
 . . ? 
 
 Panyasis, Epicus ... 
 
 .. 489 - 
 
COMPLETE LIST OF GREEK POETS. 22S 
 
 Parmeuides, Poeta philosophicus ... ... ... ... 503 
 
 Parthenius, Sciiptor Eroticus ... ... ... ... 63 
 
 Paulus Silentiarias 
 
 Floruit circ,\ 
 A.C. p.c. 
 
 — 530 
 
 Phanocles, Elegiacus ... ... ... ... ... 280? 
 
 Pherecrates, Comicus (Vet.) ... ... ... ... 436 
 
 Pherecydes, Minor, Historicus ... ... ... ... 480 
 
 Philemon, Comicus (Nov.) ... ... ... ... 330 
 
 Minor, Comicus (Nov. ) ... ... ... ... ■vxi'i 
 
 Phileta;rus, Comicus (Med.) ... ... ... ... 250 
 
 Philetas, Elegiacus ... ... ... ... ... 300 
 
 Piiilippides, Comicus (Nov.) ... ... ... ... 3-3 c 
 
 Philiscus, Comicus (Med. )... ... ... ... ... 380 
 
 Pliilonides, Comicus (Vet.) ... ... ... ... 430 
 
 Philostephanus, Comicus (Incert. ) ... ... ... ? 
 
 Pliiloxenus, Dithyrambicus ... ... ... ... -jng 
 
 Pliilyllius, Comicus (Vet. )... ... ... ... ... -tn, 
 
 Phocylides, Elegiacus ... ... ... ... ... caa 
 
 Phrynicus, Comicus (Vet.)... ... ... ... ... 429 
 
 Tragicus ... ... ... ... .. ru 
 
 Pindarus, Lyricus ... ... ... ... ... 450 
 
 Plato, Comicus (Vet.) ... ... ... ... ... 428 
 
 Poliochus, Comicus (Incert.) ... ... ... J 
 
 Polyidus, Dithyrambicus ... ... ... ... ... 3^3 
 
 Polyzelus, Comicus (Vet.) ... ... ... ... ... 402 
 
 Posidippus, Comicus (Nov.) ... ... ... ... 280 
 
 Pratinas, Tragicus ... ... ... ... ... 499 
 
 Praxilla, Lyrica ... ... ... ... ... J 
 
 — 450 
 
 Proclus ... 
 
 Quintus Smyrnfeus (or Calaber), Epicus ... ... ... 
 
 Rhianus, Elegiacus ... ... ... ... ... 222 
 
 Sannyrio, Comicus, (Vet.) ... ... ... ... ... 407 
 
 Sappho, Lyrica ... ... ... ... ... ... 610 
 
 Scymnus, Poeta Geographicus ... ... ... ... 90 
 
 Simonides of Amorgus ... ... ... ... ... 404 
 
 ofCeos ... ... ... ... ... 525 
 
 Solon, Elegiacus... ... ... ... ... ... 604 
 
 Sophilus, Comicus (Med.) ... ... ... ... ... 350? 
 
 Sophocles, Tragicus ... ... (Date of first prize) 468 
 
 Sophron, Mimographus ... ... ... ... ... 450 
 
 P 
 
226 , COMPLETE LIST OF GREEK POETS. 
 
 Floruit circa 
 A.c. p.c. 
 . ? __ 
 
 Sosicrates, Comiais (Nov.) 
 
 Sosipater, Comicus (Nov. )... ... ... ... ... 290? — 
 
 Sotades, Comicus (Med.) ... ... ... ... ? — 
 
 Steplianus, Comicus (Nov.) ... ... ... ... 332 — 
 
 Stesichorus, Lyricus ... ... ... ... ... 610 — 
 
 Stobaeus ... ... ■■• ... ... ... — Soo? 
 
 Strattis, Comicus (Vet.) ... ... ... ... ... 407 — 
 
 Susario, Comicus (Vpt ) ... ... ... ... ... 560 ' — 
 
 Synesius ... ... ... . ... ... ... — 410 
 
 Teleclides, Comicus (Vet. ) ... ... ... ... .440 — 
 
 Telesilla, Lyrica ... ... ... ... ... ... 510 — 
 
 Telestes, Ditliyrambicus ... ... ... ... ... 4CI — 
 
 Theocritus, Bucolicus '... ... ... .. ... 272 ^ 
 
 Theogiietus, Comicus (Nov.) ... ... ... .....? — 
 
 Theognis, Elegiacus ... ... ... ... ... 540 — 
 
 Tlieophilus, Comicus (Med.) ... ... ... ... 330 — 
 
 Theopompus, Comicus (Vet.) ... ... ... ... 390 — 
 
 Thugenides, Comicus (Incert.) ... ... ... ..'...? — 
 
 Timocles, Comicus (Med.) ... ... ... ... 350 — 
 
 Timocreon, Lyricus ... ... ... ... ... 471 — 
 
 Timon, Sillographus ... . . ... ... ... 279 — 
 
 Timostratus, Comicus (Incert. ) ... ... ... ? 
 
 Timotheus, Comicus (Med.) ... ... ... ... 350? — 
 
 Dithyrambicus ... ... ... ... 398 
 
 Tryphiodorus, Epicus ... ... ... ... ... — ..? 
 
 TyrtsEus, Elegiacus ... ' ... ... ... ... 680 — 
 
 Xenarchus, Comicus (Med. ) ... .. ... ... 350 — 
 
 Xeno, Comicus (Incert.) ... ... ... ... .....? — 
 
 Xenophanes, Poeta Pliilosopliicus ... ... ... ... 538 — 
 
 CASSELL, PETTER, AND GALl'lN, BELLE SAUVAGE WORKS, LONDON, E.C. 
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