Greek Anthology Books 10-12

ToposText · Greek Anthology · 828 sections

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§ 12.32 THYMOCLES Thou rememberest, I trust, thou rememberest the time when I spoke to thee the holy verse, “Beauty is fairest and beauty is nimblest.” Not the fleetest bird in the sky shall outstrip beauty. Look, now, how all thy blossoms are shed on the earth.
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§ 12.33 MELEAGER Heraclitus was fair, when there was a Heraclitus, but now that his prime is past, a screen of hide declares war on those who would scale the fortress. But, son of Polyxenus, seeing this, be not insolently haughty. It is not only on the cheeks that Nemesis grows.
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§ 12.34 AUTOMEDON Yesterday I supped with the boys' trainer, Demetrius, the most blessed of all men. One lay on his lap, one stooped over his shoulder, one brought him the dishes, and another served him with drink — the admirable quartette. I said to him in fun, “Do you, my dear friend, train the boys at night too? ”
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§ 12.35 DIOCLES One thus addressed a boy who did not say good-day: “And so Damon, who excels in beauty,, does not even say good-day now! A time will come that will take vengeance for this. Then, grown all rough and hairy, you will give good-day first to those who do not give it you back.”
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§ 12.36 ASCLEPIADES OF ADRAMYTTIUM Now you offer yourself, when the tender bloom is advancing under your temples and there is a prickly down on your thighs. And then you say, “I prefer this.” But who would say that the dry stubble is better than the eared corn?
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§ 12.37 DIOSCORIDES Love, the murderer of men, moulded soft as marrow the body of Sosarchus of Amphipolis in fun, wishing to irritate Zeus because his thighs are much more honeyed than those of Ganymede.
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§ 12.38 RHIANUS The Horae and Graces shed sweet oil on thee, and thou lettest not even old men sleep. Tell me whose thou art and which of the boys thou adornest. And the answer was, “ Menecrates.”
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§ 12.39 Anonymous Nicander's light is out. All the bloom has left his complexion, and not even the name of charm survives, Nicander whom we once counted among the immortals. But, ye young men, let not your thoughts mount higher than beseems a mortal; there are such things as hairs.
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§ 12.40 Anonymous Take not off my cloak, Sir, but look on me even as if I were a draped statue with the extremities only of marble. If you wish to see the naked beauty of Antiphilus you will find the rose growing as if on thorns.
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§ 12.41 MELEAGER I do not count Thero fair any longer, nor Apollodotus, once gleaming like fire, but now already a burnt-out torch. I care for the love of women. Let it be for goat -mounting herds to press in their arms hairy minions.
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§ 12.42 DIOSCORIDES When you look on Hermogenes, boy-vulture, have your hands full, and perhaps you will succeed in getting that of which your heart dreams, and will relax the melancholy contraction of your brow. But if you fish for him, committing to the waves a line devoid of a hook, you will pull plenty of water out of the harbour; for neither pity nor shame dwells with an extravagant cinaedus.
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§ 12.43 CALLIMACHUS I detest poems all about the same trite stories, and do not love a road that carries many this way and that. I hate, too, a beloved who is in circulation, and I do not drink from a fountain. All public things disgust me. Lysanias, yes indeed thou art fair, fair. But before I can say this clearly an echo says, “He is another's.”
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§ 12.44 GLAUCUS There was a time long long ago, when boys who like presents were won by a quail, or a sewn ball, or knuckle-bones, but now they want rich dishes or money, and those playthings have no power. Search for something else, ye lovers of boys.
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§ 12.45 POSIDIPPUS Yea, yea, ye loves, shoot. I alone stand here a target for many all at once. Spare me not, silly children; for if ye conquer me ye shall be famous among the immortals for your archery, as masters of a mighty quiver.
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§ 12.46 ASCLEPIADES I am not yet two and twenty, and life is a burden to me. Ye Loves, why thus maltreat me; why set me afire? For if I perish, what will you do? Clearly, Loves, you will play, silly children, at your knucklebones as before.
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§ 12.47 MELEAGER Love, the baby still in his mother's lap, playing at dice in the morning, played my soul away.
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§ 12.48 MELEAGER I am down; set thy foot on my neck, fierce demon. I know thee, yea by the gods, yea heavy art thou to bear: I know, too, thy fiery arrows. But if thou set thy torch to my heart, thou shalt no longer burn it; already it is all ash.
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§ 12.49 MELEAGER Drink strong wine, thou unhappy lover, and Bacchus, the giver of forgetfulness, shall send to sleep the flame of thy love for the lad. Drink, and draining the cup full of the vine-juice drive out abhorred pain from thy heart.
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§ 12.50 ASCLEPIADES Drink, Asclepiades. Why these tears.? What aileth thee? Not thee alone hath cruel Cypris taken captive; not for thee alone hath bitter Love sharpened his arrows. Why whilst yet alive dost thou lie in the dust? Let us quaff the unmixed drink of Bacchus. The day is but a finger's breadth. Shall we wait to see again the lamp that bids us to bed? Let us drink, woeful lover. It is not far away now, poor wretch, the time when we shall rest through the long night.
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§ 12.51 CALLIMACHUS To the Cup-bearer Pour in the wine and again say “To Diocles,” nor does Achelous touch the ladlefuls hallowed to him. Beautiful is the boy, Achelous, passing beautiful; and if any say “Nay” — let me alone know what beauty is.
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§ 12.52 MELEAGER The South Wind, blowing fair for sailors, O ye who are sick for love, has carried off Andragathus, my soul's half. Thrice happy the ships, thrice fortunate the waves of the sea, and four times blessed the wind that bears the boy. Would I were a dolphin that, carried on my shoulders, he could cross the seas to look on Rhodes, the home of sweet lads.
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§ 12.53 MELEAGER Richly loaded ocean ships that sail down the Hellespont, taking to your bosoms the good North Wind, if haply ye see on the beach of Cos Phanion gazing at the blue sea, give her this message, good ships, that Desire carries me there not on shipboard, but faring on my feet. For if you tell her this, ye bearers of good tidings, straight shall Zeus also breathe the gale of his favour into your sails.
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§ 12.54 MELEAGER Cypris denies that she gave birth to Love now that she sees Antiochus among the young men, a second Love. But, ye young men, love this new Love; for of a truth this boy has proved to be a Love better than Love.
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§ 12.55 Anonymous, or some say by ARTEMON Child of Leto, son of Zeus the great, who utterest oracles to all men, thou art lord of the sea-girt height of Delos; but the lord of the land of Cecrops is Echedemus, a second Attic Phoebus whom soft-haired Love lit with lovely bloom. And his city Athens, once mistress of the sea and land, now has made all Greece her slave by beauty.
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§ 12.56 MELEAGER Praxiteles the sculptor wrought a statue of Love in Parian marble., fashioning the son of Cypris. But now Love, the fairest of the gods, making his own image, hath moulded Praxiteles, a living statue, so that the one amid mortals and the other in heaven may be the dispenser of love-charms, and a Love may wield the sceptre on earth as among the immortals. Most blessed the holy city of the Meropes,i which nurtured a new Love, son of a god, to be the prince of the young men.
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§ 12.57 MELEAGER Praxiteles the sculptor of old time wrought a delicate image, but lifeless, the dumb counterfeit of beauty, endowing the stone with form; but this Praxiteles of today, creator of living beings by his magic, hath moulded in my heart Love, the rogue of rogues. Perchance, indeed, his name only is the same, but his works are better, since he hath transformed no stone, but the spirit of the mind. Graciously may he mould my character, that when he has formed it he may have within me a temple of Love, even my soul.
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§ 12.58 RHIANUS Troezen is a good nurse; thou shalt not err if thou praisest even the last of her boys. But Empedocles excels all in brilliance as much as the lovely rose outshines the other flowers of spring.
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§ 12.59 MELEAGER Delicate children, so help me Love, doth Tyre nurture, but Myiscus is the sun that, when his light bursts forth, quenches the stars.
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§ 12.60 MELEAGER If I see Thero, I see everything, but if I see everything and no Thero, I again see nothing.
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§ 12.61 Anonymous Look! consume not all Cnidus utterly, Aribazus; the very stone is softened and is vanishing.
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§ 12.62 Anonymous Ye Persian mothers, beautiful, yea beautiful are the children ye bear, but Aribazus is to me a thing more beautiful than beauty.
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§ 12.63 MELEAGER Heraclitus in silence speaks thus from his eyes: “I shall set aflame even the fire of the bolts of Zeus.” Yea, verily, and from the bosom of Diodorus comes this voice: “I melt even stone warmed by my body's touch.” Unhappy he who has received a torch from the eyes of the one, and from the other a sweet fire smouldering with desire.
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§ 12.64 ALCAEUS Zeus, Lord of Pisa, crown under the steep hill of Cronos Peithenor, the second son of Cypris. And, Lord, I pray thee become no eagle on high to seize him for thy cup-bearer in place of the fair Trojan boy. If ever I have brought thee a gift from the Muses that was dear to thee, grant that the god-like boy may be of one mind with me.
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§ 12.65 MELEAGER If Zeus still be he who stole Ganymede in his prime that he might have a cup-bearer of the nectar, I, too, may hide lovely Myiscus in my heart, lest before I know it he swoop on the boy with his wings.
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§ 12.66 Anonymous Judge, ye Loves, of whom the boy is worthy. If truly of the god, let him have him, for I do not contend with Zeus. But if there is something left for mortals too, say. Loves, whose was Dorotheus and to whom is he now given. Openly they call out that they are in my favour; but he departs. I trust that thou, too, mayst not be attracted to beauty in vain.
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§ 12.67 Anonymous I see not lovely Dionysius. Has he been taken up to heaven. Father Zeus, to be the second cup-bearer of the immortals? Tell me, eagle, when thy wings beat rapidly over him, how didst thou carry the pretty boy? has he marks from thy claws?
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§ 12.68 MELEAGER I wish not Charidemus to be mine; for the fair boy looks to Zeus, as if already serving the god with nectar. I wish it not. What profits it me to have the king of heaven as a competitor for victory in love? I am content if only the boy, as he mounts to Olympus, take from earth my tears to wash his feet in memory of my love; and could he but give me one sweet, melting glance and let our lips just meet as I snatch one kiss! Let Zeus have all the rest, as is right; but yet, if he were willing, perchance I, too, should taste ambrosia.
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§ 12.69 Anonymous Take thy delight, Zeus, with thy former Ganymede, and look from afar, O King, on my Dexandrus. I grudge it not. But if thou carriest away the fair boy by force, no longer is thy tyranny supportable. Let even life go if I must live under thy rule.
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§ 12.70 MELEAGER I will stand up even against Zeus if he would snatch thee from me, Myiscus, to pour out the nectar for him. And yet Zeus often told me himself, “What dost thou dread? I will not smite thee with jealousy; I have learnt to pity, for myself I have suffered.” That is what he says, but I, if even a fly buzz past, am in dread lest Zeus prove a liar in my case.
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§ 12.71 CALLIMACHUS Thessalian Cleonicus, poor wretch, poor wretch! By the piercing sun I did not know you, man. Where have you been? You are nothing but hair and bone. Can it be that my evil spirit besets you, and you have met with a cruel stroke from heaven? I see it; Euxitheus has run away with you. Yes, when you came here, you rascal, you were looking at the beauty with both eyes.
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§ 12.72 MELEAGER Sweet dawn has come, and lying sleepless in the porch Damis is breathing out the little breath he has left, poor wretch, all for having looked on Heraclitus; for he stood under the rays of his eyes like wax thrown on burning coals. But come, awake, all luckless Damis! I myself bear Love's wound, and shed tears for thy tears.
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§ 12.73 CALLIMACHUS It is but the half of my soul that still breathes, and for the other half I know not if it be Love or Hades that hath seized on it, only it is gone. Is it off again to one of the lads? And yet I told them often, “Receive not, ye young men, the runaway.” Seek for it at Theutimus', for I know it is somewhere there that the gallows-bird, the love-lorn, is loitering.
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§ 12.74 MELEAGER If I perish, Cleobulus (for cast, nigh all of me, into the flame of lads' love, I lie, a burnt remnant, in the ashes), I pray thee make the urn drunk with wine ere thou lay it in earth, writing thereon, “ Love's gift to Death.”
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§ 12.75 ASCLEPIADES If thou hadst wings on thy back, and a bow and arrows in thy hand, not Love but thou wouldst be described as the son of Cypris.
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§ 12.76 MELEAGER If Love had neither bow nor wings, nor quiver, nor the barbed arrows of desire dipped in fire, never, I swear it by the winged boy himself, couldst thou tell from their form which is Zoilus and which is Love.
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§ 12.77 ASCLEPIADES or POSIDIPPUS If thou wert to grow golden wings above, and on thy silvery shoulders were slung a quiver full of arrows, and thou wert to stand, dear, beside Love in his splendour, never, by Hermes I swear it, would Cypris herself know which is her son.
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§ 12.78 MELEAGER If Love had a chlamys and no wings, and wore no bow and quiver on his back, but a petasus, yea, I swear it by the splendid youth himself, Antiochus would be Love, and Love, on the other hand, Antiochus.
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§ 12.79 Anonymous Antipater kissed me when my love was on the wane, and set ablaze again the fire from the cold ash. So against my will I twice encountered one flame. Away, ye who are like to be love-sick, lest touching those near me I burn them.
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§ 12.80 MELEAGER Sore weeping soul, why is Love's wound that was assuaged inflamed again in thy vitals? No, No! for God's sake, No! For God's sake, O thou lover of unwisdom, stir not the fire that yet glows under the ashes! For straightway, O unmindful of past woe, if Love catch thee again, he shall vilely use the truant he has found.
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§ 12.81 MELEAGER Love -sick deceivers of your souls, ye who know the flame of lads' love, having tasted the bitter honey, pour about my heart cold water, cold, and quickly, water from new-melted snow. For I have dared to look on Dionysius. But, fellow-slaves, ere it reach my vitals, put the fire in me out.
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§ 12.82 MELEAGER I made haste to escape from Love; but he, lighting a little torch from the ashes, found me in hiding. He bent not his bow, but the tips of his thumb and finger, and breaking off a pinch of fire secretly threw it at me. And from thence the flames rose about me on all sides. O Phanion, little light that set ablaze in my heart a great fire.
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§ 12.83 MELEAGER Eros wounded me not with his arrows, nor as erst lighting his torch did he hold it blazing under my heart; but bringing the little torch of Cypris with scented flame, the companion of the Loves in their revels, he struck my eyes with the tip of its flame. The flame has utterly consumed me, and that little torch proved to be a fire of the soul burning in my heart.
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§ 12.84 MELEAGER Save me, good sirs! No sooner, saved from the sea, have I set foot on land, fresh from my first voyage, than love drags me here by force, and as if bearing a torch in front of me, turns me to look on the loveliness of a boy. I tread in his footing, and seizing on his sweet image, formed in air, I kiss it sweetly with my lips. Have I then escaped the briny sea but to cross on land the flood of Cypris that is far more bitter?
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§ 12.85 MELEAGER Receive me, ye carousers, the newly landed, escaped from the sea and from robbers, but perishing on land. For now just as, leaving the ship, I had but set my foot on the earth, violent Love caught me and drags me here, here where I saw the boy go through the gate; and albeit I would not I am borne hither swiftly by my feet moving of their own will. I come thus as a reveller filled with fire about my spirit, not with wine. But, dear strangers, help me a little, help me, strangers, and for the sake of Love the Hospitable' receive me who, nigh to death, supplicate for friendship.
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§ 12.86 MELEAGER It is Cypris, a woman, who casts at us the fire of passion for women, but Love himself rules over desire for males. Whither shall I incline, to the boy or to his mother? I tell you for sure that even Cypris herself will say, “The bold brat wins.”
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§ 12.87 Anonymous Persistent Love, thou ever whirlest at me no desire for woman, but the lightning of burning longing for males. Now burnt by Damon, now looking on Ismenus, I ever suffer long pain. And not only on these have I looked, but my eye, ever madly roving, is dragged into the nets of all alike.
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§ 12.88 Anonymous Two loves, descending on me like the tempest, consume me, Eumachus, and I am caught in the toils of two furious passions. On this side I bend towards Asander, and on that again my eye, waxing keener, turns to Telephus. Cut me in two, I should love that, and dividing the halves in a just balance, carry off my limbs, each of you, as the lot decides.
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§ 12.89 Anonymous Cypris, why at one target hast thou shot three arrows, why are three barbs buried in one soul? On this side I am burning, on the other I am being dragged; I am all at a loss which way to turn, and in the furious fire I burn away utterly.
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§ 12.90 Anonymous No longer do I love. I have wrestled with three passions that burn: one for a courtesan, one for a maiden, and one for a lad. And in every way I suffer pain. For I have been sore exercised, seeking to persuade the courtesan's doors to open, the foes of him who has nothings and again ever sleepless I make my bed on the girl's couch, giving the child but one thing and that most desirable, kisses. Alack! how shall I tell of the third flame? For from that I have gained naught but glances and empty hopes.
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§ 12.91 POLYSTRATUS A double love burns one heart. O eyes that cast yourselves in every direction on everything that ye need not, ye looked on Antiochus, conspicuous by his golden charm, the flower of our brilliant youth. It should be enough. Why did ye gaze on sweet and tender Stasicrates, the sapling of violet-crowned Aphrodite? Take fire, consume, be burnt up once for all; for the two of you could never win one heart.
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§ 12.92 MELEAGER O eyes, betrayers of the soul, boy-hunting hounds, your glances ever smeared with Cypris' bird-lime, ye have seized on another Love, like sheep catching a wolf, or a crow a scorpion, or the ash the fire that smoulders beneath it. Do even what ye will. Why do you shed showers of tears and straight run off again to Hiketas? Roast yourselves in beauty, consume away now over the fire, for Love is an admirable cook of the soul.
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§ 12.93 RHIANUS Boys are a labyrinth from which there is no way out; for wherever thou castest thine eye it is fast entangled as if by bird-lime. Here Theodorus attracts thee to the plump ripeness of his flesh and the unadulterate bloom of his limbs, and there it is the golden face of Philocles, who is not great in stature, but heavenly grace environs him. But if thou turnest to look on Leptines thou shalt no more move thy limbs, but shalt remain, thy steps glued as if by indissoluble adamant; such a flame hath the boy in his eyes to set thee afire from thy head to thy toe and finger tips. All hail, beautiful boys! May ye come to the prime of youth and live till grey hair clothe your heads.
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§ 12.94 MELEAGER Delightful is Diodorus and the eyes of all are on Heraclitus, Dion is sweet-spoken, and Uliades has lovely loins. But, Philocles, touch the delicate-skinned one, and look on the next and speak to the third, and for the fourth — etcetera; so that thou mayst see how free from envy my mind is. But if thou cast greedy eyes on Myiscus, mayst thou never see beauty again.
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§ 12.95 MELEAGER Philocles, if thou art beloved by the Loves and sweet-breathed Peitho, and the Graces that gather a nosegay of beauty, mayst thou have thy arm round Diodorus, may sweet Dorotheus stand before thee and sing, may Callicrates lie on thy knee, may Dion warm that well-aimed horn of yours by holding it in his hand, may Uliades peel it back, may Philon give you a sweet kiss, may Theron chatter, and may you squeeze the breast of Eudemus under his chlamys. For if God were to grant thee all these delights, blessed man, what a Roman salad of boys wouldst thou dress.
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§ 12.96 Anonymous Not in vain is this saying bruited among mortals, “The gods have not granted everything to everyone.” Faultless is thy form, in thy eyes is illustrious modesty, and the bloom of grace is on thy bosom. And with all these gifts thou vanquishest the young men; but the gods did not grant to thee to have the same grace in thy feet. But, good Pyrrhus, this boot shall hide thy foot and give joy to thee, proud of its beauty.
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§ 12.97 ANTIPATER Eupalamus is ruddy red like Love, as far as Meriones, the captain of the Cretans; but from Meriones onwards Podaleirius no longer goes back to the Dawn: see how envious Nature, the universal mother, is. For if his lower parts were equal to his upper he would excel Achilles, the grandson of Aeacus.
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§ 12.98 POSIDIPPUS Love, tying down the Muses' cicada on a bed of thorns, would lull it there, holding fire under its sides. But the Soul, sore tried of old amid books, makes light of other pain, yet upbraids the ruthless god.
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§ 12.99 Anonymous I am caught by Love, I who had never dreamt it, and never had I learnt to feed a male flame hot beneath my heart. I am caught. Yet it was no longing for evil, but a pure glance, foster-brother of modesty, that burnt me to ashes. Let it consume away, the long labour of the Muses; for my mind is cast in the fire, bearing the burden of a sweet pain.
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§ 12.100 Anonymous To what strange haven of desire hast thou brought me, Cypris, and pitiest me not, although thou thyself hast experience of the pain? Is it thy will that I should suffer the unbearable and speak this word, “ Cypris alone has wounded the man wise in the Muses' lore”?
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§ 12.01 MELEAGER Myiscus, shooting me, whom the Loves could not wound, under the breast with his eyes, shouted out thus: “It is I who have struck him down, the overbold, and see how I tread underfoot the arrogance of sceptred wisdom that sat on his brow.” But I, just gathering breath enough, said to him, “Dear boy, why art thou astonished? Love brought down Zeus himself from Olympus.”
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§ 12.102 CALLIMACHUS The huntsman on the hills, Epicydes, tracks every hare and the slot of every hind through the frost and snow. But if one say to him, “Look, here is a beast lying wounded,” he will not take it. And even so is my love; it is wont to pursue the fleeing game,i but flies past what lies in its path.
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§ 12.103 Anonymous I know well to love them who love me, and I know to hate him who wrongs me, for I am not unversed in both.
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§ 12.104 Anonymous Let my love abide with me alone; but if it visit others, I hate, Cypris, a love that is shared.
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§ 12.105 ASCLEPIADES I am a little love that flew away, still easy to catch, from my mother's nest, but from the house of Damis I fly not away on high; but here, loving and beloved without a rival, I keep company not with many, but with one in happy union.
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§ 12.106 MELEAGER I know but one beauty in the world; my greedy eye knows but one thing, to look on Myiscus, and for all else I am blind. He represents everything to me. Is it just on what will please the soul that the eyes look, the flatterers?
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§ 12.107 Anonymous Ye Graces, if lovely Dionysius' choice be for me, lead him on as now from season to season in ever-renewed beauty, but if, passing me over, he love another, let him be cast out like a stale myrtle-berry mixed with the dry sweepings.
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§ 12.108 DIONYSIUS If thou lovest me, Acratus, mayest thou be ranked with Chian wine, yea and even more honey-sweet; but if thou preferest another to me, let the gnats buzz about thee as in the fume of a jar of vinegar.
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§ 12.109 MELEAGER Delicate Diodorus, casting fire at the young men, has been caught by Timarion's wanton eyes, and bears, fixed in him, the bitter-sweet dart of Love, Verily this is a new miracle I see; fire is ablaze, burnt by fire.
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§ 12.110 MELEAGER It lightened sweet beauty; see how he flasheth flame from his eyes. Hath Love produced a boy armed with the bolt of heaven? Hail! Myiscus, who bringest to mortals the fire of the Loves, and mayest thou shine on earth, a torch befriending me.
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§ 12.111 Anonymous Winged is Love and thou art swift of foot, and the beauty of both is equal. We are only second to him, Eubius, because we have no bow and arrows.
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§ 12.112 Anonymous Silence, ye young men; Arcesilaus is leading Love hither, having bound him with the purple cord of Cypris.
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§ 12.113 MELEAGER Even Love himself, the winged, hath been made captive in the air, taken by thy eyes, Timarion.
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§ 12.114 MELEAGER Star of the Morning, hail, thou herald of dawn I and mayest thou quickly come again, as the Star of Eve, bringing again in secret her whom thou takest away.
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§ 12.115 Anonymous I have quaffed untempered madness, and all drunk with words I have armed myself with much frenzy for the way. I will march with music to her door, and what care I for God's thunder and what for his bolts, I who, if he cast them, carry love as an impenetrable shield?
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§ 12.116 Anonymous I will go to serenade him, for I am, all of me, mighty drunk. Boy, take this wreath that my tears bathe. The way is long, but I shall not go in vain; it is the dead of night and dark, but for me Themison is a great torch,
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§ 12.117 MELEAGER “Let the die be cast; light the torch; I will go.” “Just look! What daring, heavy with wine as thou art! ” “What care besets thee? I will go revelling to her, I will go.” “Whither dost thou stray, my mind?” “Doth love take thought? Light up at once.” “And where is all thy old study of logic? ” “Away with the long labour of wisdom; this one thing alone I know, that Love brought to naught the high mind of Zeus himself.”
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§ 12.118 CALLIMACHUS If I came to thee in revel, Archinus, willingly, load me with ten thousand reproaches; but if I am here against my will, consider the vehemence of the cause. Strong wine and love compelled me; one of them pulled me and the other would not let me be soberminded. But when I came I did not cry who I was or whose, but I kissed the door-post: if that be a sin, I sinned.
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§ 12.119 MELEAGER I shall bear, Bacchus, thy boldness, I swear it by thyself; lead on, begin the revel; thou art a god; govern a mortal heart. Born in the flame, thou lovest the flame love hath, and again leadest me, thy suppliant, in bonds. Of a truth thou art a traitor and faithless, and while thou biddest us hide thy mysteries, thou wouldst now bring mine to light.
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§ 12.120 POSIDIPPUS I am well armed, and will fight with thee and not give in, though I am a mortal. And thou. Love, come no more against me. If thou findest me drunk, carry me off a prisoner, but as long as I keep sober I have Reason standing in battle array to meet thee.
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§ 12.121 RHIANUS Tell me, Cleonicus, did the bright Graces meet thee walking in a narrow lane and take thee in their rosy arms, dear boy, that thou hast become such a Grace as thou art? From afar I bid thee all hail, but ah! dear, it is not safe for a dry corn-stalk to draw nearer to the fire.
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§ 12.122 MELEAGER Ye Graces, looking straight on lovely Aristagoras, you took him to the embrace of your soft arms; and therefore he shoots forth flame by his beauty, and discourses sweetly when it is meet, and if he keep silence, his eyes prattle delightfully. Let him stray far away, I pray; but what does that help? For the boy, like Zeus from piympus, has learnt of late to throw the lightning far.
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§ 12.123 Anonymous When Menecharmus, Anticles' son, won the boxing match, I crowned him with ten soft fillets, and thrice I kissed him all dabbled with blood as he was, but the blood was sweeter to me than myrrh.
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§ 12.124 ARTEMON As Echedemus was peeping out of his door on the sly, I slyly kissed that charming boy who is just in his prime. Now I am in dread, for he came to me in a dream, bearing a quiver, and departed after giving me fighting cocks, but at one time smiling, at another with no friendly look. But have I touched a swarm of bees, and a nettle, and fire?
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§ 12.125 MELEAGER Love in the night brought me under my mantle the sweet dream of a softly-laughing boy of eighteen, still wearing the chlamys; and I, pressing his tender flesh to my breast, culled empty hopes. Still does the desire of the memory heat me, and in my eyes still abideth sleep that caught for me in the chase that winged phantom. O soul, ill-starred in love, cease at last even in dreams to be warmed all in vain by beauty's images.
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§ 12.126 MELEAGER Pain has begun to touch my heart, for hot Love, as he strayed, scratched it with the tip of his nails, and, smiling, said, “Again, O unhappy lover, thou shalt have the sweet wound, burnt by biting honey.” Since when, seeing among the youths the fresh sapling Diophantus, I can neither fly nor abide.
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§ 12.127 MELEAGER I saw Alexis walking in the road at noon-tide, at the season when the summer was just being shorn of the tresses of her fruits; and double rays burnt me, the rays of love from the boy's eyes and others from the sun. The sun's night laid to rest again, but love's were kindled more in my dreams by the phantom of beauty. So night, who releases others from toil, brought pain to me, imaging in my soul a loveliness which is living fire.
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§ 12.128 MELEAGER Ye pastoral pipes, no longer call on Daphnis in the mountains to please Pan the goat -mounter; and thou, lyre, spokesman of Phoebus, sing no longer of Hyacinthus crowned with maiden laurel. For Daphnis, when there was a Daphnis, was the delight of the Mountain Nymphs, and Hyacinthus was thine; but now let Dion wield the sceptre of the Loves.
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§ 12.129 ARATUS Philocles of Argos is “fair” at Argos, and the columns of Corinth and tombstones of Megara announce the same. It is written that he is fair as far as Amphiaraus' baths. But that is little; they are only letters that beat us. For they are not stones that testify to this Philocles' beauty, but Rhianus, who saw him with his own eyes, and he is superior to the other one.
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§ 12.130 Anonymous I said and said it again, “He is fair, he is fair,” but I will still say it, that Dositheus is fair and has lovely eyes. These words we engraved on no oak or pine, no, nor on a wall, but Love burnt them into my heart. But if any man deny it, believe him not. Yea, by thyself, O God, I swear he lies, and I who say it alone know the truth.
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§ 12.131 POSIDIPPUS Goddess who hauntest Cyprus and Cythera and Miletus and the fair plain of Syria that echoes to the tread of horses, come in gracious mood to Callistion, who never repulsed a lover from her door.

Via ToposText (topostext.org), a project of the Aikaterini Laskaridis Foundation created by Brady Kiesling. Translated by William Roger Paton (1857-1921). Composed ca. 900 CE. Licence: public domain. Source.