Greek Anthology Book 16 Planudean

ToposText · Greek Anthology · 394 sections

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§ 195 SATYRUS On a Statue of Love Bound Who fettered thee, the winged boy, who bound swift fire with chains? Who laid his hand on Love's burning quiver and made fast behind his back those hands swift to shoot, tying them to a sturdy pillar? Such things are but chill consolation for men. Did not, perchance, this prisoner himself enchain once the mind of the artist?
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§ 196 ALCAEUS OF MESSENE On the same Who impiously hunted thee down and set thee here in fetters? Who crossed and bound thy hands, and wrought thee with this rueful face? Where, poor child, is thy swift bow, where the bitter quiver that held thine arrows? Of a truth in vain the sculptor laboured, making fast in this trap thee who dost tempest the gods with the fury of desire.
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§ 197 ANTIPATER OF SIDON On the same Who bound thy hands to the pillar in a fast knot? Who took captive fire by fire and guile by guile? My boy, bedew not thy sweet face with tears, for thou dost take delight in the tears of young men.
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§ 198 MAECIUS On the same WEEP, thou wrong-headed god, with thy hands made fast beyond escape; weep bitterly, letting fall soul-consuming tears, scorner of chastity, thief of the mind, robber of the reason, Love, thou winged fire, thou unseen wound in the soul. Thy bands, O wrong-headed boy, are to mortals a release from complaint; remain fast bound, sending thy prayers to the deaf winds, and watch that torch that thou, eluding all vigilance, didst light in men’s hearts, being quenched now by thy tears. 199. CRINAGORAS On the same Weep and moan, thou artful schemer, the sinews of thy hands made fast: thou hast thy desert. None will untie thee; make not those piteous faces; for thou thyself, Love, didst wring the tears from other eyes, and piercing the heart with thy bitter darts, didst instil the venom of desire that takes fast hold. The woes of mortals are thy sport. Thou hast suffered what thou hast done. An excellent thing is justice.
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§ 200 MOSCHUS On Love Ploughing CURLY-HAIRED Love, laying aside his torch and bow, took an ox -driver's rod and wore a bag on his shoulders; coupling the patient necks of the oxen under the yoke, he began to sow the wheat-bearing furrow of Demeter. Looking up he said to Zeus himself, “Fill the cornfield, lest I put thee, Europe's bull, to the plough.*'
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§ 201 MARIANUS SCHOLASTICUS On Love Garlanded “WHERE is that back-bent bow of thine, and the reed-arrows driven by thee into the middle of the breast? Where are thy wings, where thy torturing torch, and wherefore dost thou bear three garlands in thy arms and wear another on thy head?" “Stranger, I am not sprung from vulgar Cypris nor from the earth; I am no offspring of material joy. But I am he who lights the torch of learning in the pure minds of mortals, and leads the soul up to heaven. From the four Virtues I weave garlands, and carrying these, one of each, I crown myself with the first, the crown of Wisdom."
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§ 202 ANONYMOUS On the same Say not, stranger, that I am he from Lebanon, he who delights in the converse by night of youths who love the revel. I am a little Love and country-bred, the son of the Nymph who dwells hard by, and I further but the gardener’s labour. Hence from my dear fruitful plot I am crowned with four crowns by the four Horae (seasons).
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§ 203 JULIANUS, PREFECT OF EGYPT On the Eros of Praxiteles PRAXITELES, who stooped his proud neck for my sandals to tread on, wrought me with his captive hands. For, working me in bronze, he gave me, that very Love that was hidden within him, to Phryne, an offering of friendship. But she again brought it to give to Love; for it is lawful for lovers to bring Love himself as a gift to Love.
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§ 204 PRAXITELES On the same Praxiteles perfectly portrayed that Love he suffered, taking the model from his own heart, giving me to Phryne in payment for myself. But I give birth to passion no longer by shooting arrows, but by darting glances.
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§ 205 TULLIUS GEMINUS On the same PRAXITELES, in return for love, gave me, Love, a god to mortal Phryne, creating at once a guerdon and a god. But she repulsed not the artist, for in her mind she feared lest the god should take up his bow to fight for the sculptor’s art. She dreads no longer the son of Cypris, but thy offspring, Praxiteles, knowing that Art is his mother.
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§ 206 LEONIDAS OF ALEXANDRIA (?) On the same The Thespians venerate Love, the son of Cytherea, alone amongst the gods, and not Love copied from any other model, but the god whom Praxiteles knew, seeing whom in Phryne he gave him to her as the ransom of his desire.
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§ 207 PALLADAS On a Statue of Love Love is unarmed; therefore he smiles and is gentle, for he has not his bow and fiery arrows. And it is not without reason that he holds in his hands a dolphin and a flower, for in one he holds the earth, in the other the sea.
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§ 208 GABRIEL THE PREFECT On Love Asleep on a Pepper- Castor Neither when asleep, nor when lifeless, nor at the banquet, is Love without a fire-scattering nip.
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§ 209 ANONYMOUS A: Love Couplet THOU who dost blow on thy torch to light the lamp, come and light it from my soul. I am all aflame.
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§ 210 PLATO When we entered the deep-shadowed wood we found within it the son of Cytherea, like unto rosy apples. Nor had he the quiver that holds arrows, nor his bent bow, but they were hanging on the leafy trees, and he lay among the rose-blossoms smiling, bound fast by sleep, and above him the tawny bees were sprinkling on his dainty lips honey dripping from the comb.
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§ 211 STATYLLIUS FLACCUS On Love Asleep Thou sleepest, thou who bringest sleepless care on mortals; thou sleepest, O child of the baneful daughter of the foam, not armed with thy fiery torch, nor sending from thy backward-bent, twanging bow the dart that none may escape. Let others pluck up courage, but I fear, thou overweening boy, lest even in thy sleep thou see a dream bitter to me.
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§ 212 ALPHEIUS On the same I SHALL snatch the fiery pine-brand from thy hand, O Love, and strip thee of the quiver that hangs across thy shoulders, if in truth thou sleepest, thou child of fire, and we mortals have peace for a little season from thy arrows. But even so I fear thee, thou weaver of wiles, lest thou have one hidden for me and see a cruel dream in thy sleep.
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§ 213 MELEAGER OR STRATO: Though on thy back thou hast swift outstretched wings, though thou hast thy sharp-pointed Scythian arrows, I shall escape from thee, Love, under the earth. Yet what shall that avail me? For even Hades himself, who overcometh all things, did not escape thy might.
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§ 214 SECUNDUS On Statues of Loves LOOK how the Loves delight in their spoils; look how, in childish triumph, they wear the weapons of the gods on their sturdy shoulders: the tambourine and thyrse of Bacchus, the thunderbolt of Zeus, the shield of Ares and his plumed helmet, the quiver of Phoebus well stocked with arrows, the trident of the sea-god, and the club from the strong hands of Heracles. What shall men’s strength avail when Love has stormed heaven and Cypris has despoiled the immortals of their arms!
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§ 215 PHILIPPUS On the same Look how the Loves, having plundered Olympus, deck themselves in the arms of the immortals, exulting in their spoils. They bear the bow of Phoebus, the thunderbolt of Zeus, the shield and helmet of Ares, the club of Heracles, the three-pronged spear of the sea-god, the thyrse of Bacchus, Hermes’ winged sandals, and Artemis’ torches. Mortals need not grieve that they must yield to the arrows of the Loves, if the gods have given them their arms wherewith to busk themselves.
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§ 216 PARMENION On a Statue of Hera Polycleitus of Argos, who alone saw Hera with his eyes, and moulded what he saw of her, revealed her beauty to mortals as far as was lawful; but we, the unknown forms beneath her dress's folds, are reserved for Zeus.
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§ 217 ANONYMOUS On a Statue of Calliope I am Calliope, and I gave to Cyrus my breast to suck, the breast which nourished divine Homer, and from whence sweet Orpheus drank.
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§ 218 JOANNES BARBOCALLUS: The painter wished to portray Melpomene, but as she was absent he painted Calliope.
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§ 219 BY THE SAME: This is a portrait of thee, Polymnia, and thou art a portrait of the Muse; for both have one name and one form.
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§ 220 ANTIPATER OF SIDON On Statues of the Muses Three are we, the Muses who stand here; one bears in her hands a flute, another a harp, and the third a lyre. She who is the work of Aristocles holds the lyre, Ageladas’ Muse the harp, and Canachas’s the musical reeds. The first is she who rules tone, the second makes melody of colour, and the third invented skilled harmony.
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§ 221 THEAETETUS SCHOLASTICUS On the Nemesis of the Athenians I AM a white stone which the Median sculptor quarried with his stone-cutter s tools from the mountain where the rocks grow again, and he bore me across the sea to make of me images, tokens of victory over the Athenians. But when Marathon resounded with the Persian rout, and the ships voyaged on bloody waves, Athens, the mother of beautiful works, carved of me Adrasteia, the goddess who is the foe of arrogant men. I counterbalance vain hopes, and I am still a Victory to the Athenians, a Nemesis to the Assyrians.
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§ 222 PARMENION On the same I, THE stone of whom the Medes hoped to make a trophy, was changed opportunely to the form of Nemesis, the goddess justly planted on the shore of Rhamnus to be a witness to the Attic land of victory and the skill of her artist.
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§ 223 ANONYMOUS On a Statue of Nemesis Nemesis warns us by her cubit-rule and bridle neither to do anything without measure nor to be unbridled in our speech.
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§ 224 ANONYMOUS On the same I, Nemesis, hold a cubit-rule. “Why?” you will say. I proclaim to all men, “Nothing beyond due measure.”
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§ 225 ARABIUS SCHOLASTICUS On a Statue of Pan We might, perhaps, have clearly heard Pan piping, for the sculptor infused breath into the statue, but left resourceless when he saw fickle Echo flying, the god renounced the unavailing voice of the pipe.
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§ 226 ALCAEUS OF MESSENE On the same O Pan, who walkest on the mountains, breathe music with thy sweet lips, delighted with thy shepherd’s reed, pouring forth melody from the sweet-toned pipe, and bring its shrill notes into tune with the words it accompanies, and round thee to the beat of the rhythm let the inspired feet of these water-nymphs move in the dance.
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§ 227 ANONYMOUS On a Statue of Hermes Throw thyself down here, wayfarer, on the green meadow, and rest thy languid limbs from painful toil; here where the pine also, tossed by the western breeze, shall soothe thee as thou listenest to the song of the cicadas, and the shepherd likewise on the hills, piping at mid-day by the fountain under the leafy plane-tree. Thus, having escaped the burning heat of the autumnal dog -star, thou shalt in good time cross the hill. Take this counsel that Hermes gives thee.
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§ 228 ANYTE: Stranger, rest thy weary legs under the elm; hark how sweetly the breeze murmurs in the green leaves; and drink a cold draught from the fountain; for this is indeed a resting-place dear to travellers in the burning heat.
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§ 229 ANONYMOUS On a Picture of Pan This, our dearest one, is the issue of the loins of Zeus himself and the cloud over his head testifies to it. For Zeus the cloud-gatherer begot Hermes the King, and Hermes begot Pan the goatherd.
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§ 230 LEONIDAS OF TARENTUM: Traveler, drink not here in the solitude this warm water so full of mud from the torrent, but go a little farther over this hill whereon the heifers are grazing, and by the shepherds* pine there thou wilt find a fountain bubbling up through the generous rock, colder than the snow from the north.
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§ 231 ANYTE On a Statue of Pan A. “WHY, rural Pan, thus seated in the lonesome shadowy wood, dost thou sound this sweet-voiced reed-pipe?” B. “So that the heifers may graze over these dewy mountains, cropping the luxurious tresses of the herbage.”2
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§ 232 SIMONIDES On the Statue of Pan erected by Miltiades Miltiades erected me, goat -footed Pan, the Arcadian, the foe of the Medes, the friend of the Athenians.
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§ 233 THEAETETUS SCHOLASTICUS On the same The walker in the woods, the lover of the trees, the spouse of Echo who dwells on the hills, I, Pan, the scout, the keeper of the homed flock of sheep, Pan with the shaggy legs, the fruitful god, I who, leaving my home, ran to meet the warlike Assyrians in battle, stand here set up by Miltiades, as his fellow-soldier and pursuer of the Persians, in return for my unsummoned succour. Let others stand on citadels, but Marathon, which slew the Medes, is the common portion of myself and the men who fought at Marathon.
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§ 234 PHILODEMUS: The stone has place for three immortals; for the head clearly shows me to be goat -horned Pan, the breast and belly tell I am Heracles, the rest of the thighs and the legs are the portion of wing-footed Hermes. Refuse me not a sacrifice, stranger, for thy one sacrifice will earn the thanks of the three gods.
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§ 235 APOLLONIDES OF SMYRNA On a Statue of Pan I AM the country-folk’s god. Why do you shed for me offerings from cups of gold, and pour me out strong Italian wine, and bind to the stone the curved necks of bulls? Spare your pains; I take no pleasure in such sacrifices. I, Pan, the dweller on the mountains, carved from a tree-trunk, am a feaster on mutton, and drink my must from a bowl of clay.
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§ 236 LEONIDAS On a Statue of Priapus Here on the garden wall did Dinomenes set me up, wakeful Priapus, to guard his greens. But look, thief, how excited I am. And is this, you say, all for the sake of a few greens? For the sake of these few.
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§ 237 TYMNES On the same I BEHAVE like Priapus to everyone, even be he Cronos, so little distinction do I make between thieves here beside this kitchen-garden. Someone will tell me it is not meet for me to say this for the sake of greens and pumpkins. It is not meet, but I say it.
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§ 238 LUCIAN On the same Eutychides set me, Priapus, here in vain, for the sake of convention, to guard his dried-up vines; and there is a high cliff all round me. Whoever attacks me has nothing to steal but myself, the guardian.
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§ 239 APOLLONIDES On the same Anaxagoras set me up here, a Priapus not standing on my feet, but resting both knees on the ground. Phylomachus made me; but seeing lovely Charito standing beside me, you will seek no longer why I fell on my knees.
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§ 240 PHILIPPUS On the same A (a traveller). I see the figs are ripe. Won’t you let me take a few? B ( Priapus ). Don’t touch a single one. A. How angry Priapus is! B. You will say so still, and you will have come to no purpose. A. Indeed, I beseech you. B. Give me; for I, too, am in want of something. A. What! do you want anything from me? B. There is a law, I think, “Give and take.” A. Even though you are a god, are you greedy for money? B. It is another thing that I am fond of. A. What is that? B. If you eat my figs, give me with a good grace that fig you have behind.
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§ 241 MARCUS ARGENTARIUS “It is ripe.” “I know that myself as well as you, traveller. Stop praising the fig, and keep your eyes off the branch near you. I, Priapus the warden, am very sharp-eyed, and keep proper watch over the figs; and if you even touch a fig you shall give me a fig, for equality in all things is most just”
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§ 242 ERYCIUS On the same How heavy and well-hardened, Priapus, is this weapon, which springs all of it from thy loins, not unready for marriage! Thou art athirst for women, my friend, and all thy heart is swollen with desire. But appease this swollen organ and hide it under a flowered robe, for thou dost not dwell on a lonely mountain, but guardest holy Lampsacus by the shore of the Hellespont.
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§ 243 ANTISTIUS On the same I STAND here the guardian of the farm in the rich field, watching over Phricon’s hut and his plants, and to everyone I say this, “When you have done laughing at the sight of me with this appendage, go your way. But if you transgress and do what is unlawful, your hairy face will not help you; I know how to pierce all.”
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§ 244 AGATHIAS SCHOLASTICUS On a Painting of a Satyr holding a Reed-Pipe to his Ear as if it were Listening “Does thy pipe, little Satyr, send forth sound of its own accord, or why dost thou bend thine ear and put it to the reed?” But the Satyr smiled and spoke not; perchance he would have uttered words, but his delight held him in forgetfulness. For it was not the wax that hindered him, but he chose of his own will to be silent, turning his whole soul to his occupation with the pipe.
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§ 245 LEONTIUS SCHOLASTICUS On a Statue of a Satyr DIONYSUS, seeing the Satyr in such pain, and pitying him, made him into stone, but not even so did he cease from his anguish ill to bear; but even though he be stone he still suffers, the luckless creature.
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§ 246 ANONYMOUS On Another Either a Satyr secretly entered the bronze, or the bronze, compelled by art, poured itself round a Satyr.
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§ 247 NILUS SCHOLASTICUS On a Satyr in Mosaic at Antioch A. All Satyrs are fond of jeering, but tell me, thou too, why, looking at everyone, dost thou pour forth this laughter? Β. I laugh because I marvel how, being put together out of all kinds of stones, I suddenly became a Satyr.
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§ 248 PLATO (THE YOUNGER) On a Satyr chased on a Cup Diodorus did not engrave this Satyr, but sent him to sleep. Prod him and you will wake him up: the silver is asleep.
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§ 249 ANONYMOUS O: Thou who lookest on this lovely statue, seat thee near it and worship Aphrodite; and praise Glycera, the daughter of Dionysius, who set me up as an offering by the soft waves of the purple shore.
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§ 250 ANONYMOUS On Love See how winged Love is breaking the winged thunderbolt, showing that there is a fire stronger than fire.
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§ 251 ANONYMOUS On Eros and Anteros Who fashioned a winged Love and set him opposite winged Love? Nemesis, taking vengeance on the bow with the bow, that he may suffer what he did; and he, the bold boy never daunted before, is crying as he tastes the bitter arrows, and thrice he spits in the deep folds of his bosom! 3 Oh, most marvellous! One shall burn fire with fire, Love has touched Love to the quick.
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§ 252 ANONYMOUS On the same I, TOO, am of the blood of Cypris, and my mother exhorted me to take my bow and take wing against my brother.
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§ 253 Anonymous On a Picture of unarmed Artemis A. ARTEMIS, where are thy bow and the quiver that hung from thy neck? Where are thy Cretan hunting-boots and the buckle wrought of gold that gathers up thy purple robe as high as thy knee? B. That is the armour I don for the chase, but to my sacrifices I go as I am, to meet the holy incense cloud.
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§ 254 Anonymous On a Statue of Hermes by the Roadside Men who pass by me have heaped up a pile of stones sacred to Hermes, and I, in return for their small kindness, give them no great thanks, but only say that it is seven stadia more to Goat Fountain.
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§ 255 ANONYMOUS On another Hermes guarding a Garden WAYFARER, come not near the vines, nor yet the apples, nor where the medlars grow, but pass me by there along the rope, so as not to disturb or break off any of these things which the gardener Midon got with labour. He it was who set me up here, but if thou give not ear to me, thou shalt know how Hermes rewards wicked men.
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§ 256 Anonymous On another Hermes The place where I dwell is steep and desert, traveller; it is no fault of mine, but of Archelochus who set me up. For Hermes, Sir, is no lover of the mountains, no dweller on the hill-tops, but rather takes delight in roads; but Archelochus, being himself a lover of solitude and without neighbours, settled me, O passer by, beside him, making me even as he is.
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§ 257 Anonymous On Dionysus Lo! from the fire1 for the second time, Dionysus, thou hast appeared in bronze. Myro gave thee a second birth.
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§ 258 Anonymous On Pan In the fane of Dictynna, where blaze the altar fires, did the Cretan erect me such as you see me in bronze, goat -footed Pan. I wear a skin and carry two hare-staves, and from the cave in the rock gaze with both eyes at the hill.
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§ 259 ANONYMOUS On the Statue of Pan on the Athenian Acropolis On the citadel of Pallas did the Athenians set me up, trophy-bearing Pan wrought of Parian marble.
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§ 260 ANONYMOUS On a Statue of Priapus If I, Priapus, see you stepping near the kale, you thief, I will uncover your nakedness by the kale-bed itself. You will say that this is a shameful duty for a god to have. I know myself that it is shameful, but I would have you know that for this purpose I was set up.
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§ 261 LEONIDAS On PRIAPUS I, Priapus, stand as a guardian at the meeting of the roads, my club standing straight out from my thighs. For Theocritus set me up to serve him faithfully. But keep your distance, Sir thief, lest you weep, receiving the thing you see.
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§ 262 ANONYMOUS: Goat-footed Pan with the wine-skin on his shoulder, and the Nymphs, and lovely Danae, are all by Praxiteles. They are all of marble, and the hands that wrought them were supremely skilled. Momus himself will cry out “Father Zeus, this was perfect skill.”
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§ 263 Anonymous On NEMESIS The Persians first brought me here, a stone to use for setting up the trophy of their victory, but now I am Nemesis. I stand here for both, a trophy of their victory for the Greeks, and for the Persians the Nemesis of war.
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§ 264 Anonymous On a Procession to Isis To Isis, parent of crops, mother of the corn, thousand-shaped, in a stone basket without the toiling plough, go of their own accord the fruits of the field, even to their mother.
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§ 264A Anonymous: To the Nymphs is this statue dedicated, and the place is their care. Yea, may it be their care that a constant stream flow from the fountain.
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§ 265 Anonymous On Momus Who with blameless hands fashioned Momus (Blame) the thrice accurst, who mourns at all good things? How the old man, like one alive throwing himself on the ground, seeks to find rest from his sorrows, his limbs heavy to him. They tell who he is, that deadly double row of teeth gnashing at the good fortune of the neighbours, that wasted burden of a body; on one of his senile hands he rests his bald head, and with the other, grinning sardonically, he plants his staff on the ground, quarrelling aimlessly with the lifeless rock.
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§ 266 ANONYMOUS On the same Waste away, starting from thy wretched nails, all-devouring Momus; waste and gnash thy poisoned jaws. They tell who thou art, those stretched sinews and the veins of thy limbs, and their dying strength devoid of flesh, and the harsh locks that hang over thy wrinkled forehead (one line missing). Tell me, who fashioned thee so, the living plague of men, not leaving a place for thy teeth to fasten on?
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§ 267 SYNESIUS SCHOLASTICUS On a Picture of Hippocrates A. FROM whence was he who placed thee here? B. A Byzantine. A. And his name? B. Eusebius. A. And who art thou? B. Hippocrates of Cos. A. And why did he paint thee? B. In return for his discourses the city gave him the privilege of making my picture. A. And why did he not paint his own portrait? B. Because, by honouring me instead of himself, he gains greater glory.
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§ 268 ANONYMOUS: In Praise of the same Either Apollo wrote thy words, Hippocrates, or thou art the witness of his healing power.
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§ 269 ANONYMOUS On the same This is he who opened the secret paths of medicine, the divine healer of men, Hippocrates of Cos.
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§ 270 MAGNUS THE PHYSICIAN On a Portrait of Galen There was a time, Galen, when, owing to thee, Earth received men mortal and reared them in immortality. The halls of tearful Acheron were bereaved by the force of thy healing hand.
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§ 271 ANONYMOUS On Sosander, the Veterinary Surgeon Thou wast the healer of men, Hippocrates, but thou of horses too, Sosander, learned in the secrets of medicine. Either exchange your professions or your names. The one should not be named from the art of which the other was the master.
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§ 272 LEONTIUS SCHOLASTICUS On a Picture of the Physician Iamblichus This is Iamblichus, sweetest among men, who reached old age without knowing the converse of Aphrodite; but practising medicine and teaching his skill to others, he did not hold out his hand to receive even righteous gain.
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§ 273 CRINAGORAS On a Picture of the Physician Praxagoras The son of Phoebus himself, anointing his hand with juice of the all-healing herb, rubbed into thy breast, Praxagoras, the pain-stilling science of medicine. Therefore thou knowest from gentle Hepione herself all woes that spring from long fevers, and what drugs it is fitting to lay on flesh cut by the knife. Had mortals had sufficient of such healers, the boat heavy with the dead would never have crossed the ferry.
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§ 274 ANONYMOUS On Oribasius the Physician This is the great physician of the Emperor Julian, divine Oribasius, right worthy of this pious gift; for he had a wise mind like a bee, gathering from this place and that the flowers of former physicians.
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§ 275 POSIDIPPUS On a Statue of Time by Lysippus A. Who and whence was the sculptor? B. From Sicyon. A. And his name? B. Lysippus. A. And who art thou? B. Time, who subdueth all things. A. Why dost thou stand on tip-toe? B. I am ever running. A. And why hast thou a pair of wings on thy feet? Β. I fly with the wind. A. And why dost thou hold a razor in thy right hand? B. As a sign to men that I am sharper than any sharp edge. A. And why does thy hair hang over thy face? B. For him who meets me to take me by the forelock. A. And why, in Heaven’s name, is the back of thy head bald? B. Because none whom I have once raced by on my winged feet will now, though he wishes it sore, take hold of me from behind. A. Why did the artist fashion thee? B. For your sake, stranger, and he set me up in the porch as a lesson.
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§ 276 BIANOR On a Statue of Arion Periander set up here this statue of Arion and the dolphin of the sea that swum together with him when he was perishing. The story says of Arion, “We are killed by men and saved by fish.”
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§ 277 PAULUS SILENTIARIUS On a Picture of a Female Lyrist in Constantinople The painting does not justly show thy beauty, and would it had had the power to portray the sweet tones of thy melodious mouth, so that our eyes and ears might have been equally entranced by thy face and thy lyre-playing.
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§ 278 BY the same On the Picture of Maria the Singer and Lyrist She has the plectrum of the lyre, she has also the plectrum of love, and she beats with one the heart, with the other the lyre. Pitiable are they to whom her mind does not unbend, but he whom she favours is a second Anchises, a second Adonis. And if, O stranger, it is thy wish to hear her celebrated name and her country, she is Maria of Alexandria.
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§ 279 ANONYMOUS On the Lyre-playing Stone at Megara As thou passest by Nisaea remember me, the musical stone; for when Alcathous was building his towered wall, then Phoebus lifted on his shoulder the building stone, laying down his Delphian lyre in me. Hence I am a lyrist; strike me with a small pebble and get evidence of what I boast.
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§ 280 ANONYMOUS On a Bath With the money of Agathon did the people of Tegea build the bath here, a marvel to future generations too.
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§ 281 ANONYMOUS On a Bath at Praenetus in Bithynia What is now a bath was formerly no bath, but a rubbish ground, a place of excretion; but now it excels in splendour those delightful and lovely baths of which all men sing the praises. For Alexander, the bishop of Nicaea, the star of illustrious learning, built it at his own expense.
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§ 282 PALLADAS: Here we are, the Victories, the laughing maidens, bringing victories to the city that loveth righteousness. Those to whom the city is dear painted us, fashioning us in such forms as are proper to Victories.
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§ 283 LEONTIUS SCHOLASTICUS On a Painting of a Dancing Girl Rhodoclea is the tenth Muse and fourth Grace, the delight of men, the glory of the city. Her eyes and her feet are swift as the wind, and her skilled fingers are better than both Muses and Graces.
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§ 284 BY THE SAME On another Picture of a Dancing Girl in the Sosthenion I AM Helladia of Byzantium, and here I stand where the people in spring celebrate the dance, here where the land is divided by the strait; for both continents praised my dancing.
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§ 285 BY THE SAME On the Gilded Picture of a Female Lyrist No one put gold on Anthusa, but the son of Cronos poured himself on her, as once on Danae. But he did not come near her body, for his mind was seized with shame, lest against his will he should consort with one of the Muses.
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§ 286 BY THE SAME On the Dancer Helladia The feminine nature excels in dancing: give way, ye young men! The Muse and Helladia laid down this law, the one because she first invented the rhythm of movement, the other because she reached perfection in the art.
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§ 287 BY THE SAME On the same Someone sung the lay of Hector, a new tune, and Helladia, donning a chlamys,accompanied the melody. In the dancing of this goddess of war there was both desire and terror, for with virile strength she mingled feminine grace.
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§ 288 BY THE SAME On a Picture of the Dancer Libania MAIDEN, thou hast thy name from frankincense, thy body is the Graces *, thy spirit is Peitho’s, the cestus of Aphrodite flows from thy waist, but in the dance thou dost frolic like light Eros, attracting all by thy beauty and art.
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§ 289 ANONYMOUS On the Dancer Xenophon of Smyrna We thought we were looking on Bacchus himself when the old man lustily led the Maenads in their furious dance, and played Cadmus tripping it in the fall of his years, and the messenger coming from the forest where he had spied on the rout of the Bacchants, and frenzied Agave exulting in the blood of her son. Heavens! how divine was the man's acting!
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§ 290 ANTIPATER OF THESSALONICA On the Dancer Pylades Pylades put on the divinity of the frenzied god himself, when from Thebes he led the Bacchants to the Italian stage, a delight and a terror to men, so full by his dancing did he fill all the city with the untempered fury of the demon. Thebes knows but the god who was born of the fire; the heavenly one is this whom we see brought into the world by these hands that can utter everything.
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§ 291 ANYTE: To shock-headed Pan and the Nymphs of the sheepfold did the shepherd Theodotus set this his gift here under the hill, because, when he was sore tired by the parching summer heat, they refreshed him, holding out to him sweet water in their hands.
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§ 292 ANONYMOUS On the two Homeric Poems HOMER, son of Meles, thou hast won eternal glory for Hellas and thy fatherland Colophon, and these two daughters didst thou beget by thy divine soul, writing from thy heart the twain tablets. The one sings the many wanderings of Odysseus in his homecoming, and the other the Trojan War.
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§ 293 ANONYMOUS On Homer Who wrote on his pages the Trojan War, and who the long wanderings of the son of Laertes? I cannot be certain about his name or his city. Heavenly Zeus, can it be that Homer gets the glory of thine own poems?
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§ 294 ANONYMOUS On the same Or what country shall we record Homer to be a citizen, the man to whom all cities reach out their hands? Is it not the truth that this is unknown, but the hero, like an immortal, left as a heritage to the Muses the secret.of his country and race?

Via ToposText (topostext.org), a project of the Aikaterini Laskaridis Foundation created by Brady Kiesling. Translated by William Roger Paton (1857-1921). Composed ca. 500 CE. Licence: public domain. Source.