Agathias invokes his patron

 

 

 

A very large chunk of Agathias' proem to his Cycle is taken up with praise of his all-conquering Emperor. It used to be taken for granted that he meant Justinian (ruled 527-565), who did indeed get a lot done, but Alan and Averil Cameron challenged this consensus in a 1966 JHS article and suggested we instead consider his son, Justin II.

 

That's not a debate into which I propose right now to wade. Anyway, encomium delivered, Agathias returns to consideration of his own literary conquests. The Camerons also challenge the identification of Agathias' patron with the Theodorus who was magister officiorum under Justinian and Justin. Again, I'm feeling too tired to consider going there, so I'll just give you my translation of the bit that immedaitely follows all the world-conquering stuff.

Maybe one day I'll translate the whole thing, but there's at least one book I really ought to finish first.

 

And so, since all the lands of men are filled
With lovely peace, and since all anxious fears
Of foreign and domestic martial strife
Are blown to pieces by our Emperor,
Then let us call a contest of the wise,
My blessed Theodore, and set in train
The entertainments of the bardic dance.
You see, it was for you I toiled to shape
This prize, and wrought this wordy artefact,
Gathering tight within my monograph
All the promiscuous commerce of the bee,
And gathering a universal bloom
From reams of elegy; I hung for you
A wreath of Calliope eloquent,
As one might offer beech to Kronos’ son,
Hulls to the Earthshaker, a warrior’s belt
To Ares, or a quiver full of darts
To lord Apollo; Hermes, tortoises;
Dionysus, the cultivated vine.
I know that Theodorus’ eponym
Will drizzle endless critical acclaim
Upon my marathon of diligence.

 I'm trivially pleased with how 'marathon of diligence' reshuffles the Greek, though I doubt many readers will want to know about that. Perhaps to be followed up in some future blog post.

In the immediate sequel to this section, and as the conclusion to his proem, Agathias lays out the kinds of poem he will offer us -- and that's something I definitely want to translate.

 

Agathias in the toilet

Agathias 'Scholasticus' ('the Advocate') was the sixth-century anthologist of a Cycle of contemporary epigrammatists, including much work of his own. Some of these are inscriptional in form and I would like to think the following two were inscribed for real, in a public toilet in Byzantium. According to the second poem, Agathias himself had paid to have it renovated. The first poem is newly translated; the second is in the book.

9.644

How justly blessed are you that work the soil,
Stout-hearted labourer, who all your life
Must brace against the agonies of toil
And poverty: the meals you eat are small,
And in the thickets you lay down your head,
Awash with water as your beverage.
Fit as a fiddle, here you sit a while
Unburdening your belly in a flash;
You do not knuckle at your lower spine,
Or thump your thighs in anguish as you shed
Your wholesome cargo. Pitiful are they,
Those who possess or flock about great wealth,
Who set more store by feasting than by health.

 

9.662 

I was a place detestable to see,
A mud-brick warren. Here the strangers came,
And native folk and boorish countrymen,
To noisily excrete their bowel waste,
Until our city’s father intervened.
Agathias transformed me: now I shine,
Who was so ignominious before.