Two young heroes of Athens

These two epitaphs are among those collected in Hansen's Carmina Epigraphica Graeca. Both are from Athens in the late sixth century BC, and adorned marble bases on which stood statues of the deceased.

The first inscribed block was found where it belonged, in the ancient cemetery of the Ceramicus, the potters' quarter of Athens (hence our 'ceramic'). The second may well have begun in that same cemetery, but a century later it was carted off and built into the Themistoclean Wall near the Piraeus Gate, about a kilometer away. I make Nelo's tomb a 'mound' because in the context of burial the verb kheō means to pile up earth into a tumulus. It harks back to the heroic age, and I think the writer consciously echoes Homer and thereby seeks to associate the dead Xenophanes with the fallen heroes of the Iliad and Odyssey.

Nelonides literally means 'Son of Nelo'; the names may have swapped back and forth, generation to generation, until Nelonides' untimely death brought the cycle to a close.

41
This is the tomb of dead Xenophanes.
His father Cleoboulus built it here
To mark his excellence and modesty.
 
(on the left side: ‘Aristion of Paros made me’)
 
42
The son of Nelo, called Nelonides,
Is buried in the mound his father raised,
A fine memorial of his character.

(as a separate inscription: 'Endoius made this one too')

A lost bronze athlete

You crafted voice of marble, tell me true:
Who set this statue here to glorify
Apollo’s altar? Panamyes, he,
Casbōllis’ son, and if you press for more,
It was the tenth such gifted to his store.

Hansen CEG 429, a verse incription from the stone base of a bronze statue, early fifth BC. The base was found built into the city wall of Halicarnassus; the statue, like so many, will have been melted down. Its metal has wandered through centuries of coins, cannons and cooking-pots, and an odd atom of it may be within spitting-distance of you right now.

 Donald Lavigne writes compellingly about this dedicatory poem and how it evokes and interacts with the statue's surroundings in the temple precinct:

 This opening up of the context, the placement of this statue and its two voices into an implied dialogue with the other monuments there suggests the importance of the relationship between the dedications as a whole—a this implies a that. It is not one dedication, but many, that actualizes the power of and honor due to the god.  Similarly, Panamyes gains honor from his individual dedication, but also, through association and competition with those other great men of Halicarnassus who are sure to have left their mark there as well.  The context actualizes the honor of the god hinted at in the epigram, which itself focuses upon the honor of Panamyes; but, both external and internal honorand are inseparable and mutually reinforcing.

The Carian-named Panamyes son of Casbōllis went on to some kind of role as an official witness (Mnēmōn or 'Remembrancer') for his city; he is named on the contemporary 'Lygdamis Decree' stele, discussed by Edwin Carawan in a chapter of a volume edited by E. Anne Mackay (BMCR review here). Apollo was again the beneficiary, this time of the entire worldly goods of on any party who broke the terms of the agreement thereby promulgated. You can read an English translation of the decree here.

Readers who get it

I googled myself because I am shallow and vain. Here are some reviews of Epigrams from the Greek Anthology by non-classicist readers on goodreads. They are the favouritest reviews I've ever had.

 

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The cover will mislead you.

It is not an aesthetic, Pre-Raphaelite, typical classic poetry collection, sometimes it is pretty dumb. It is so dumb that I burst out laughing at night like nobody is alive. 

 
Of course it is about the gossip of gods, the heroic action of the semi-gods, the fight of the mortals, the decay of our body, the pathetic nature of humanity, the nobility of the saints, and gay porn. But they are all in one book (although originally it was 16 books), that's how tremendous this book is.

In fact, there are too much references and questions that I for one not sure how I can possibly finish the book with the confidence claiming I know all it says. I simply skipped all the notes as I don't think my goal is to be a Greek mythology and history expert. I'm here for the word play.

It is also surprisingly one of the most effective story tellings; some of the poems are so dramatic and complete that they could as well be the original flash fiction. It's the most surprising read of the year for me.

 

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Snapshots of an ancient world that was just like ours: replete with tourists, showoffs, and those torn up by love and grief. I’ll be honest: some of the most affecting of these are the pederastic ones; but there are excellent hetero sex and love poems here too. I also loved the dedicatory epigrams, through which tools praise the craftsmen who made or wielded them, and the epitaphs. Many of these are prefatory to, or otherwise hint at, lost works — another way in which the book opens its milieu to the modern reader. And it’s copiously rude, satirical, lowbrow.

 

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Nisbet’s translations into iambic pentameter are generally very fluent. He’s also a terrific annotator, going above and beyond in the introduction and, especially, the endnotes to really contextualise these condensed droplets of ancient human existence.

 

I'm not entirely sure what I expected from this book, but boi howdy, did it break my heart. There are some really funny poems in it and the erotic ones made me highly uncomfortable as I was on public transport, but the children ones... Just brace yourself if you don't want to read about the death of children, genuinely. Other than that I did really like this!

  

Two splendid chaps

 

These two genuine inscriptions are among those selected by Richard Thomas for inclusion in his Green-and-Yellow Greek Epitaphic Poetry (2022). The first is from Thessaly, in the wild north of Greece, and dates to the late fifth century BC; the second is from Athens, and was inscribed around the same time or perhaps a little later. Of the Thracian poem, Hunter writes: 'A clear echo of Od. 1.1 raises the possibility that there is play with his name, as the Homeric Odysseus was the hero par excellence of gastēr, the stomach and its demands.' If you want to know what that echo is, read his commentary.

The Athenian epigram addresses temperate self-control (Sōphrosunē, often translated 'wisdom') in a personified divine form, hailing her as potnia, an honorific for goddesses and powerful royal women. Modesty is Aidōs, the sense of propriety and self-respect that dissuades people of good sense from breaking the laws of men and gods; it is often translated 'shame'. Cleidemus' aidōs was megalophrõn, great-hearted and driving him to courage in the service of his city.

Aidōs was worshipped as a goddess, most particularly at Athens. Cleidemus was born in Melite, a deme of central Athens just to the west of the Acropolis, making him a fairly close neighbour to the altar of Aidōs that Pausanias was to report on, six or seven hundred years later (1.17.1).

V

This is the tomb of Gastro, who was friend
To every stranger, and whose death gave pain
To many both at home and far away.

VI

Our lady Temperance, child of Modesty
Who nurtures self-respect, the man laid here
Honoured you much, and martial Virtue too:
Cleidemus, offspring of Cleidemides,
Of Melite, who was his father’s pride
While yet he lived; in death, his mother’s pain.

Cleidemus is the son of Cleidemides, whose name means 'son of Cleidemus'; I would put money on him being named for his grandfather, and had he lived to sire children, the firstborn male would surely have kept the Cleidemus-Cleidemides cycle going. The tone of the epitaph makes it all but certain that he died in battle. Compare the following epitaph by Simonides preserved in the Greek Anthology (7.514), in which aidōs dissuades a young hoplite from bringing shame on his family by shrinking from the fight:

Beside Theaerus’ bank, respect for self
Led Cleodemus to lamented death
When he engaged a force of Thracians;
There too the spearman son of Diphilus
Established glory for his father’s name.

Two rollicking versions from Lucillius

 These are by my favourite carol-collecting translator of Greek epigram, Reverend George Ratcliffe Woodward, sometime Vicar of Walsingham. His little collection from the skoptic poets of Book 11, Tart and Homely Gibes of Greek Epigrammatists, is in the typical format of his small-press volumes and produced with his and his housekeeper's characteristic care. This pair happily met my eye when I opened it up just now.

In my usual way, I reproduce Woodward's archaising flourishes, but update his typographic fondness for that old-fashioned 's' that looks just an 'f'.

THE FEAST
(Lucillius: xi, 137)

Raw beef-steak you set before us,
Heliodorus;
Ast, three stoups of cruder wine;
Then come epigrams to souse us,
Drench and douse us.
Now, if I had robbed a shrine,
Or had err’d by eating any
Of the many
Sacro-sanct Trinacrian kine,
Guilty then I’de drink and drain, sir,
Nor complain, sir,
At one gulp, the deep-sea brine;
But, as hence the sea is distant,
Unresistant
Drown me in yon well of thine.

THE NIGGARD
(Lucllius: xi, 397)

Artemidoros, counting o’er,
But spending not his myriad store,
Lives life of mules and asses,
Which oftly carry weighty tacks
Of costly gold upon their backs,
But feed themselves on grasses.

Two reluctant women

Two from Book 5 of the Anthology. 'Cyprian' and 'Cytherea' are cult titles of Aphrodite; Melittias's name is sweet (melissa or melitta is a honey-bee).

5.85
ASCLEPIADES

You hoard your maidenhead, and to what gain?
When you go down to Hades, bashful girl,
You will not find yourself a lover there;
The pleasures of the Cyprian are meant
For us, the living, who as bones and dust
Will sleep forever on the Acheron.

5.87
RUFINUS

Melissias denies she is in love,
And yet her body shrieks the quiverful
Of arrows that have pierced it. So her step
Is frantic, like the racing of her breath;
Hollow the eyes where love-darts found their mark.
But, unfulfilled Desires, I call on you
By Cythereia of the shining crown:
This woman who disdains your mother’s fame —
Burn her till she admits, ‘I feel your flame.’

Two literary epitaphs by Antipater of Sidon

The Anthology has two Antipaters; this is the earlier (2nd century BC). The later one came from Thessalonica and was patronised by Lucius Calpurnius Piso, a trusted friend of Augustus. Both leave us plenty of excellent epigrams.

These two are 7.23 and 7.34 in the Anthology.

Anacreon, the great lyric poet of love and wine, was a favourite choice of subject for literary epitaphs; more such survive than for Homer, even.

May ivy flourish here, ANACREON,
Thickly in clusters, and the tender blooms
Of purple-dotted meadows also grow
About your place of burial; may springs
Of chalk-white milk burst forth from rocks around,
And sweetly smelling wine from fountains flow,
So that your ashes and your bones may know
Delightful entertainment in your stead,
If there is any joy among the dead.

The trumpet-blast of the Pierians,
The grave and burly smith who hammered out
Such nimble hymns: PINDAR this dust entombs,
Whose song, if you should hear it, you would say
Was moulded by a swarm of honey-bees
Sent by the Muses to the bedchamber
That Cadmus shared with lady Harmony.

Since making these I've come across a lovely version of by Roderick Saxey on his fascinating blog.