Anacreon

thumb|Ah, cruel 'tis to love,And cruel not to love,But cruelest of allTo love and love in vain. Anacreon (582 BC – 485 BC) was a Greek lyric poet, notable for his drinking songs and hymns. Quotes thumb|All my care is for to-day;What's to-morrow who can say? I would not have Amalthea's horn, nor even a reign of a hundred years and fifty over all-happy Tartessus. Poems, Book I, 8 (tr. Edmonds, 1924, pp. 140-3) Lo now! golden-haired Love hits me with his purple ball and calls me forth to play with a motley-slippered maid, but no, she hails from grand Lesbos, and so she finds fault with my hair because it is white, and goes gaping after another. Poems, Book I, 84 (tr. Edmonds, 1924, pp. 144-7) Thracian filly, tell me why You look askance when I come nigh, And flee unkind, as though I knew Naught of how to manage you? Should it please me, truth to tell, I could bridle you right well, And take and ride you hand on rein Up the course and down again; And if instead you graze your fill And frisk it in the meadow still, 'Tis but because a man like me Knows how long to leave you free. Iambics, Book IV, 84 (tr. Edmonds, 1931, vol. i, p. 27) Anacreontea Ἂν δ᾽ ὁ γέρων χορεύῃ,τρίχας γέρων μέν ἐστιν,τὰς δε φρένας νεάζει. But when an old man dances,His locks with age are grey,But he's a child in mind. Odes, XXXIX (XXXVII), 3 (tr. Harbottle, 1897, p. 323) Τὸ σήμερον μέλει μοι,τὸ δ᾽ αὔριον τίς οἶδεν; To-day belongs to me,To-morrow who can tell. Odes, VIII (VII), 9 (tr. Harbottle, 1897, p. 512) Variant translation: All my care is for to-day;What's to-morrow who can say? Thomas Stanley, Anacreon, Ode XV Πηγὴ ῥέουσα πειθοῦς. Persuasion's flowing well. Odes, XVIII, 18 (6) (tr. Harbottle, 1897, p. 479) Ἡ γῆ μέλαινα πίνει,πίνει δένδρεα δ᾽ αὖ γῆν.πίνει θάλασσ᾽ ἀναύρους,ὁ δ᾽ ἥλιος θάλασσαν,τὸν δ᾽ ἥλιον σελήνη·τί μοι μάχεσθ᾽, ἑταῖροι,καὐτῷ θέλοντι πίνειν; The black earth drinks, in turnThe trees drink up the earth.The sea the torrents drinks, the sun the sea,And the moon drinks the sun.Why, comrades, do ye flout me,If I, too, wish to drink? Odes, 21 (tr. Harbottle, 1897, p. 384) Variant translation: Fruitful earth drinks up the rain,Trees from earth drink that again;The sea too drinks the air, the sunDrinks the sea, and him the moon.Is it reason, then, do ye think,That I should thirst when all else drink? Thomas Stanley, Anacreon, Ode XIX Φύσις κέρατα ταύροις,ὁπλὰς δ᾽ ἔδωκεν ἵπποις,ποδωκίην λαγωοῖς,λέουσι χάσμ᾽ ὀδόντων, τοῖς ἰχθύσιν τὸ νηκτὸν, τοῖς ὀρνέοις πέτασθαι, τοῖς ἀνδράσιν φρόνημα, γυναιξὶν οὐκέτ᾽ εἶχεν· τί οὖν; δίδωσι κάλλος,ἀντ᾿ ἀσπίδων ἁπασῶν,ἀντ᾿ ἐγχέων ἁπάντων·νικᾷ δὲ καὶ σίδηρονκαὶ πῦρ καλή τις οὖσα. Nature gave horns to the bull,Hoofs gave she to the horse.To the lion cavernous jaws,And swiftness to the hare.The fish taught she to swim,The bird to cleave the air;To man she reason gave;Not yet was woman dowered.What, then, to woman gave she?The priceless gift of beauty.Stronger than any buckler,Than any spear more piercing,Who hath the gift of beauty,Nor fire nor steel shall harm her. Odes, XXIV (tr. Harbottle, 1897, p. 529) Variant translation: The bull by nature hath his horns,The horse his hoofs, to daunt their foes;The light-foot hare the hunter scorns;The lion's teeth his strength disclose.The fish, by swimming, 'scapes the weel;The bird, by flight, the fowler's net;With wisdom man is arm'd as steel;Poor women none of these can get.What have they then?—fair Beauty's grace,A two-edged sword, a trusty shield;No force resists a lovely face,Both fire and sword to Beauty yield. "A. W." (anonymous translator), in Davison's Poetical Rhapsody, Ode II Χαλεπὸν τὸ μὴ φιλῆσαι·χαλεπὸν δὲ καὶ φιλῆσαι·χαλεπώτερον δὲ πάντωνἀποτυγχάνειν φιλοῦντα. Ah, cruel 'tis to love,And cruel not to love,But cruelest of allTo love and love in vain. Odes, XXIX (XXVII), 1 (tr. Harbottle, 1897, p. 530) Γένος οὐδὲν εἰς Ἔρωτα·σοφίη, τρόπος πατεῖται·μόνον ἄργυρον βλέπουσιν. Love for lineage nothing cares,Tramples wisdom under foot,Worth derides, and only looksFor money. Odes, XXIX (XXVIL, b), 5 (tr. Harbottle, 1897, p. 343) Ἀπόλοιτο πρῶτος αὐτὸςὁ τὸν ἄργυρον φιλήσαςδιὰ τοῦτον οὐκ ἀδελφὸς,διὰ τοῦτον οὐ τοκῆες·πόλεμοι, φόνοι δι᾽ αὐτόν. Cursed be he above all othersWho's enslaved by love of money.Money takes the place of brothers,Money takes the place of parents,Money brings us war and slaughter. Odes, XXIX (XXVIL, b), 8 (tr. Harbottle, 1897, p. 333) Πόθεν οἴδαμεν τὸ μέλλον;ὁ βίος βροτοῖς ἄδηλος. Whence can we the future learn?Life to mortals is obscure. Odes, XXXVIII (XXXVL), 19 (tr. Harbottle, 1897, p. 481) Φιλολοιδόροιο γλώττηςἔφυγον βέλεμνα κουφά. I fled the headless darts of slanderous tongue. Odes, XLII (XL), 11 (tr. Harbottle, 1897, p. 527) Θανεῖν με δεῖ κἂν μὴ θέλω·τὶ τὸν βίον πλανῶμαι; E'en though I would not, die I must;Why stray I thus through life? XLV (XLIII), 5 (tr. Harbottle, 1897, p. 392) Τὸ θανεῖν γὰρ μετὰ πάντα. And last of all comes death. Odes, L (XLVIII), 28 (tr. Harbottle, 1897, p. 510) Quotes about Anacreon I see Anacreon smile and sing;His silver tresses breathe perfume,His cheek displays a second springOf roses, taught by wine to bloom.Away, deceitful cares, away!And let me listen to his lay;While flowery dreams my soul employ;While turtle-wing'd the laughing hours,Lead hand in hand the festal powers,Lead youth and love, and harmless joy. Mark Akenside, Ode on Lyric Poetry (1745), st. 2. Ὦ ξένε, τόνδε τάφον τὸν Ἀνακρείοντος ἀμείβων,σπεῖσόν μοι παριών εἰμὶ γὰρ οἰνοπότης. Pour a libation, stranger, as you pass.It is Anacreon's tomb. He loved his glass. Anonymous, Palatine Anthology, bk. 7, no. 28. Translated by The Earl of Cromer, Paraphrases and Translations from the Greek (London: Macmillan & Co., 1902), p. 66 This tomb be thine, Anacreon; all aroundLet ivy wreath, let flow'rets deck the ground,And from its earth, enrich'd by such a prize,Let wells of milk and streams of wine arise:So will thine ashes yet a pleasure know,If any pleasure reach the shades below. Antipater of Sidon, On Anacreon (Jacobs II. 26, lxxii.), as translated in The Spectator, No. 551 (December 2, 1712). All thy verse is softer farThan the downy feathers areOf my wings, or of my arrows,Of my mother's doves or sparrows.Sweet as lovers' freshest kisses,Or their riper following blisses,Graceful, cleanly, smooth, and round,All with Venus girdle bound. Abraham Cowley, Elegy upon Anacreon {Spoken by the God of Love} (1656), lines 11–18. It grieves me when I see what fateDoes on the best of mankind wait.Poets or lovers let them be,'Tis neither love nor poesyCan arm against death's smallest dartThe poet's head, or lover's heart.For when their life in its declineTouches th' inevitable line,All the world's mortal to 'em then,And wine is aconite to men.Nay, in death's hand the grape-stone provesFatal as thunder is in Jove's. Abraham Cowley, Elegy upon Anacreon {Who was choaked by a Grape-Stone} (1656), lines 105–116. Nec si quid olim lusit Anacreon,delevit aetas. blithe Anacreon's sportive layStill lives, in spite of time's destructive sway. Horace, Carmina, Book IV (13 BC), Ode 9, lines 9–10 (tr. Duncombe). With roses crown'd, on flowers supinely laid,Anacreon [blithe] the sprightly lyre essay'd,In light fantastic measures beat the ground,Or dealt the mirth-inspiring juice around:No care, no thought, the tuneful Teian knew,But mark'd with bliss each moment as it flew. Judith Madan, The Progress of Poetry (1721), lines 67–72. References Thomas Benfield Harbottle, Dictionary of Quotations: Classical (London: Swan Sonnenschein, 1897) John Maxwell Edmonds, Elegy and Iambus, vols. i and ii (1931) · Lyra Graeca, vol. ii (1924) See also Robert Herrick, "The Wounded Cupid" · Robert Greene, "Cupid Abroad was Lated in the Night" External links Poems by Anacreon English translations Category:BCE births Category:BCE deaths Category:Poets from Greece Category:Songwriters Category:Hymnwriters Category:LGBT people Category:Epigrammatists of the Greek Anthology