Epitaphia
Epitaphia Late Antiquity Ausonius, Decimus Magnus Latinpr. Ausonius to his Reader, greeting. I thought it pertinent that I should finish even a slight little work of a congruent subject, and that, to the little book which holds the commemoration of those who taught at Bordeaux, whether as strangers, or, being Bordelais, taught abroad, I should append Epitaphs — that is, the sepulchral inscriptions of the heroes who took part in the Trojan War. These, being ancient, when I had found them in a certain philologist, I turned into the Latin tongue, not that I might be a slave to the zeal of following the order through, but that I might restrain myself freely and not wander astray.
FOR AGAMEMNON. The king of kings, son of Atreus, avenger of my brother's wife, I myself fell by the hands of my own wife. What does it profit to have punished, grieving, the rape of Helen, when Clytemnestra slays the avenger of adultery?
FOR MENELAUS. O happy Menelaus, to whom is owed a seat among the gods and Elysium, decreed for pious shades; beloved son-in-law of Tyndareus, beloved of the Thunderer; vindicator of marriage, avenger of adultery, strong with an eternal age and eternal youth, you suffered neither the time of death nor of old age.
FOR AJAX. In the tomb of Ajax I, Virtue, am buried too, overwhelmed, myself weeping at the pyre of my own funeral, my uncombed hair torn, because the crooked son of Atreus compelled me to yield by his contrived snares. Now I shall give a purple flower from his bright blood, attesting with a groan the crimes of the judgement.
FOR ACHILLES. Not one land holds the grandson of Aeacus: his bones are covered on the Sigean shore, his hair Larisa burned. Part lies set apart in tombs, part was carried back in the fleet; but in the whole world Homer shall show him brought to life again.
FOR ULYSSES. In this tomb is buried Ulysses, son of Laertes: read through the Odyssey, you who wish to know all.
FOR DIOMEDES. Here is buried Diomedes, better than his good father, driven from his dowered Argos for his wife's crime; who founded Argyripa and Arpi, famous for its men — more famous in his new city than in the ancient seat of his homeland.
FOR ANTILOCHUS. Good in counsels and in war — a union that is rare — dear both to the sons of Atreus and dear to the sons of Aeacus: having gained at once the rewards of valour and of piety, I, Antilochus, died, my father Nestor saved. This was not the right order: but more justly was he the survivor, without whom treacherous Troy could not be taken.
FOR NESTOR. In this tomb am I covered, Nestor, now lavish of a fourth lifetime, famous in counsel and in eloquence; for whose death my son threw himself in the way and was slain, and the father lives on by the wound of his child. Alas, why does it please the fates so to apportion the years — so long for us, so short for Antilochus?
FOR PYRRHUS. I am covered in the middle of the world (at Delphi), greater than my father in valour, in that I, Pyrrhus, as a boy bore even the rich spoils of a king. Impious Orestes slew me by treachery before the altars — what wonder, raving now that his mother was slain?
FOR EURYALUS. Nor does Pleuronia hold me unworthy of an inscription — Pleuronia, which was a home shared with Diomedes and Euryalus and Sthenelus: for I, the third, possessed this kingdom, of which now a tomb is enough.
FOR GUNEUS. The sea holds Guneus; a tomb without a body holds his name. His fame is among men, his soul seeks the sky again; all the elements are a common sepulchre for so great a leader. Which? Sky and earth and sea and the mouths of men.
FOR PROTESILAUS. A fateful name was assigned to me, Protesilaus; for I, first of the Danaans, died in the Phrygian war, having stepped onto the Sigean shores with a bold leap, caught by the snares of the wily son of Laertes; who, that he might not press the shores of the Trojan land with his foot, himself leapt down upon his own shield. Why do I complain? This death even then my fates foretold, when my father imposed such a name upon me.
FOR DEIPHOBUS. Betrayed to punishment by the treachery of the wicked Spartan woman, and with my body disfigured, I, Deiphobus, have no tomb, except the one which pious Aeneas and Maro composed for me by the voice of one calling.
FOR HECTOR. This is the tomb of Hector, with whom his Troy was buried: they are buried together, who perished together.
FOR ASTYANAX. The flower of Asia, and the one survivor of so great a race — a tiny child, but already to be feared by the Argives because of my father — here I lie, Astyanax, cast down from the high Scaean gates. Ah, grief! The Neptunian ramparts of the Trojan wall saw something crueller than the dragging of Hector.
FOR SARPEDON. I, Sarpedon the Lydian, begotten of Jove, hoped by my father's divine power for heaven; but I am covered in this tomb, wept with bloody tears: O iron fates — and he suffers grief who has power to prevent it.
FOR NASTES AND AMPHIMACHUS. Nastes and Amphimachus, the renowned offspring of Nomion, leaders once, we are dust and shadow.
FOR TROILUS. With Hector laid low, having met the savage grandson of Aeacus (Achilles) with neither gods nor strength his equal, I, Troilus, dragged by the chariot, am joined to my brother's honour; and by his example the penalty is not heavy for me either.
FOR POLYDORUS. Withdraw afar, and flee that myrtle, you unknowing guest: it is a crop of darts, grown ripe with my blood. Pierced with javelins, and buried by that very slaughter, I, Polydorus, am hidden twice in this tomb. Pious Aeneas knows, and you, impious king, that a Thracian punishment presses me, while a Trojan care covers me.
FOR EUPHEMUS. The land of Troy buried Euphemus, leader of the Cicones, after the likeness of spear-bearing Mars; nor is it enough to have cut the inscription of the tomb in stone; over it too they burden the front of the statue with a mass. Sooner do those things fall which are set up so heaped: where the adornment is greater, a great ruin lies beneath.
FOR HIPPOTHOUS AND PYLEUS, BURIED IN A GARDEN. Hippothous and Pyleus the lowest earth holds in its bosom: with cabbages and mallows the surface above grows green. Nor does the cultivation of the garden vex the quiet ashes, while with a sparing hand the soft pot-herb is tended.
FOR ENNOMUS AND CHROMIUS. Here lie Ennomus and Chromius: of whom Mysia was the realm, of whom Alcinous the father and Oceanus the ancestor. What does so great a nobility avail? The more illustrious the race of these is, the heavier the condition of death.
FOR PRIAM. This is not Priam's tomb, nor am I buried in this seat: the Danaans tore off my head. But I, when I had a mangled, nameless corpse, fled, a father, to the ashes of Hector; there I found my sons, and Troy and Asia buried, and whatever of mine lies anywhere.
LIKEWISE FOR PRIAM. Whoever seeks the tomb of Priam, let him read Hector's first. That is mine, which I myself gave before to my son. — FOR HECTOR. The sepulchre of Hector and of his homeland is at once a common one, since the ruin of both was joined.
FOR HECUBA. I who was a queen, who was born of famous Dymas, who was the wife of Priam, who bore Hector — here I, Hecuba, perished, overwhelmed by the stones hurled upon me, but having first avenged myself by the fury of my tongue. Trust not in kingdoms and offspring and the lineage of your forefathers, whoever you are who read this, my σῆμα κυνός (the tomb of the dog).
FOR POLYXENA. I, the Trojan Polyxena, joined to the pyre of Achilles, would rather have been covered, when dead, by no turf at all. Not well, Achaeans, do you mingle discordant tombs: this was to violate rather than to bury.
ON NIOBE, BURIED ON MOUNT SIPYLUS BESIDE A SPRING. I was the queen of Thebes, who am now the rock of Sipylus: I wronged the divine powers of Leto's children. A mother glad and proud of twice seven children, I, a mother, led out as many funerals as I bore; nor was this enough for the gods: surrounded by hard stone, I lost the likeness of a human body; yet grief clings, though my vitals are stopped up, and waters perpetual tears from a pious spring. O wicked deed! Are there such great wraths in heavenly minds? The mourning still endures, the mother's image perishes.
ON THE TOMB OF DIOGENES THE CYNIC, IN WHICH, FOR AN INSCRIPTION, THERE IS THE FIGURE OF A DOG. "Tell, dog, whose tomb is this?" — "The Dog's." — "But who is this Dog?" — "Diogenes." — "Has he died?" — "He has not died, but departed." — "Diogenes, whose store was a wallet, whose dwelling a jar — has he departed to the shades?" — "Cerberus forbids him thence." — "And whither, then?" — "Where the star of the bright Lion blazes, the Dog is now added to just Erigone."
LIKEWISE FOR DIOGENES. A wallet, barley-meal, a cloak, a staff, a cup — that scanty furniture was the Cynic's: but he thinks even this too much. For, seeing a ploughman drink with hollowed hands: "Why, cup," he said, "do I carry you, superfluous?"
LIKEWISE. Your image, King Croesus, richest of kings, Diogenes the Cynic saw among the shades. "Nothing," he said, "is your own, Croesus; all things are left over to me. I was naked: so I am. I had nothing: this I have." The king says: "I lacked nothing, while you, beggar, were without all things; and do I lack, if only I do not want?"
ON THE TOMB OF A HAPPY MAN. Sprinkle my ashes, guest, with wine of sweet smell and with the unguent of nard, and add balsam to the crimson roses. The tearless urn keeps for me a perpetual spring, and I have changed worlds, not died. None of the joys of my old life have perished for me, whether you think I remember all, or nothing.
ON THE NAME OF A CERTAIN LUCIUS, CARVED IN MARBLE. One letter indeed gleams, but parted by twin points: thus the praenomen — L: the single mark makes it. After it, an .M. has been mocked: thus, I think, M: it is not seen whole; the apex has burst apart, damaged by a fragment of the stone. Nor can anyone know by sure tokens whether Marius or Marcius or Metellus lies here. The letters lie wrenched apart, their shapes maimed; all perish among the confused marks. Do we marvel that men have perished? Monuments crumble; death comes even to stones and to names.
ON A WONDERFUL HORSE, BY ORDER OF AUGUSTUS. Phosphorus, wont as victor to go the seven laps over the spacious expanses of the clamorous circus, running your first courses from the starting-gate without hurry, that, strong, you might prevail over the horses gone before: it was an easy thing to outstrip the swift four-horse teams; but to conquer even the victors is the better praise. Take this inscription as the solace of an empty tomb, and go, swift, to the wing-footed of Elysium. May Pegasus run for you on the right, Arion on the left; may the rope (the trace-horse) go for you, and may Castor give you a fourth horse.
ON THE EMPTY TOMB OF CARUS. A common sepulchre for himself and his wife and his children Carus appointed against his late funeral; and now for a long while the monuments stand empty, and may this be a longer complaint, and may each come in his own order, who is given by the law of birth — and through a peaceful age be buried: he who is the elder by birth, let him be the first.
ON THE TOMB OF A SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD MATRON. All things that are desired in a long course of life, Anicia consumed before a full quadruple lustrum (twenty years) — nay, before sixteen. As an infant she frolicked, she grew up a girl and a maiden, she married, conceived, gave birth, and, now a mother, died. Who would accuse death? Who would not accuse it in her case? By the merits of her years she is an old woman; by her years a girl.