Book 3

1. Anonymous Epigrammatists

On the little poem of John the Grammarian The image-maker dared to paint what no portrait may lawfully show, and eloquence brought to completion a deceptive likeness of the world, near to the truth — yet the painting falsified everything.

2. Anonymous Epigrammatists

On the city of Myra in Lycia This wall of the city of fair dancing-grounds was raised on high by the sceptred Marcian, at the prompting of the prefect Palladius, and by the ordinances of prudent Artemeon; and the city in time recovered its former measure.

3. Anonymous Epigrammatists

On the tomb of Saint Nicander Seventeen years old, a child unstained and undefiled, God made me, Nicander, his faithful martyr.

4. Anonymous Epigrammatists

A funeral inscription at Nicaea, near the lake, upon the obelisk Boast, Nicaea, of this tomb that storms the heavens, and of this pyramid, neighbour to the sun; it hides the hierophant, famed among the living, buried within this immeasurable monument. This is the great barrow of Sacerdos, this the memorial of Severa, whose neighbour is heaven, not Hades.

5. Anonymous Epigrammatists

Heavenly is the monument and the gold-wrought beam of light of the man who found a tomb the equal of his life, neighbour to the stars; it bears such a man as no tomb ever held, the minister of the heavenly mystery, who lifted up his fallen homeland from the ground, who won the highest honours of mind and of speech; for whom Attica strove, she who set his corpse upon the fire, and she who received his bones into her bosom.

6. Anonymous Epigrammatists

This great monument of great Sacerdos was wrought, all-radiant, an earthly star of Ascania, facing the sunbeams; and within, the spirit lies at peace, he who stretched out his right hand even to his homeland as it lay prostrate, and bound about his brows the holy garland, renewed for the son from the father; his homeland received him, a beloved corpse, Attica hallowed him on the pyre, and all the cities of Hellas revere him.

7. Anonymous Epigrammatists

My homeland is Nicaea, my father the revealer of heaven's mysteries, and I am the heir of the rite; he it was who rescued my city, when it was shaken, from Hades by the gifts of Italian Zeus; I die far from Ascania, and upon the land of ancient Attica I mounted the pyre. A conspicuous monument was won for me by my son, namesake of his grandfather; and his virtue looks to us both.

8. Anonymous Epigrammatists

One marriage was ours, a common life, nor even in death have we two ceased to remember each other; and you, Sacerdos, the mysteries and the works of a man shall proclaim your life to all the days to come; but me, Severa, my husband, my child, my character, my beauty shall make more sung than Penelope of old.

9. Flavius Cyrus

An encomium on Theodosius the emperor

You bear all the renowned works of the son of Aeacus, save the love that ambushed him; you shoot your arrows like Teucer, yet you keep no bastard's lot, and you have a glorious form, the form of Agamemnon, but wine does not stir your wits; in prudence I liken you wholly to keen-witted Odysseus, yet far from the wicked guiles; and of the old man of Pylos you distil an equal honey-sweet voice, my king, before in time you reach and touch the third generation.

10. Anonymous Epigrammatists

Whence found we witnesses upon the deep? Tell us, you rocks, tell us, you long waves, with how many storms they battled. The ship was broken, the mast fell, the keel sank, the cargo was lost.

11. Anonymous Epigrammatists

In the citadel of Lindus Wide is the fame of ancient Lindus, who upon her heights that touch the sky received the Unwearied Maiden; but greater still upon the earth grew the lovely renown of the virgin, when she was filled with grey-eyed graces. For now the place cries aloud that it is the flourishing house of Athena, looking out upon the fruit-bearing crags; this sweet offering the priest Aglochartus gave to Athena, sharing it from his own possessions, stronger than the lands of Celeus and of Icarius wholly to increase the holy olive.

12. Leo the Philosopher

Well do you treat me, Fortune, tending me with the most pleasant freedom from troubles of Epicurus, and delighting me with quiet; why then should I have need of men's care-laden busyness? I do not want wealth, that blind and fickle friend, nor honours; for the honours of mortals are a feeble dream. Away from me, dark cave of Circe; for I am ashamed, born for heaven, to eat acorns like a beast; I hate the sweet food of the Lotus-eaters, that makes a man forget his country; the alluring song of the Sirens I reject as my enemy; but I pray to receive from God the soul-saving flower, the moly, the defence against evil opinions, and stopping my ears securely with wax, to flee the desire bred in my flesh. Saying and writing these things, may I reach the end of my life.

13. Constantine

On his own throne If you are wise, sit down; but if of the Muse with your fingertip you have only barely tasted, . . . stand far from me, and seek your seat elsewhere; for I am a chair that carries men who know wisdom.

14. Theophanes the Confessor

A reply to this

And what special mark do you bear, O vainglorious one, that you love the wise and drive away the unlettered? You wear no gold, no silver, no ivory, but the men who are masters of carpentry made you, ignorant of Calliope and untaught of Hephaestus, to be a wooden seat for the wise and the unwise alike.

15. Constantine

On the cross which he dedicated in Lindus Constantine, son of John and Eudocia, made me, his glorious offering, whom proud Lindus brought forth as a man more excellent than the former generation, a faithful servant of the sceptred Leo; with whom his brother Alexander and his son Constantine together led the god-supported sceptres of the empire.

16. Constantine

On the same cross Every work falls short of your worth, O Mistress of the world, beyond all wonder; for your glory is beyond all works and beyond decay; yet this work, which Constantine has offered you, is worthy, if indeed, O Virgin, it well portrays the sceptre of your offspring, and the thrice-blessed Passion of his flesh.

17. Constantine

On the icon of the Mother of God If anyone wished to paint you, O Virgin, he would need the stars rather than colours, that you might be drawn with lights, as the gate of light; but these things do not yield to the words of mortals; so what nature has granted and the law of painting, with these we depict and portray you on our part.

18. Anonymous Epigrammatists

On the gaming-board Your bones, Palamedes, ought to have been sawn into the instruments of the art that comes from war; for while you were in wars, you revealed another war, upon a wooden field, the war of friends.

19. Anonymous Epigrammatists

On a certain physician, Asclepiades The physician Asclepiades carried off a girl by force. And after the ruin of the marriage won by abduction he called a crowd to the lawless wedding, of dancing men and wretched women; but the house collapsed in the evening, and all were brought down to the halls of Hades, corpses lay fallen upon corpses; and the stately bridal chamber, woven of roses, dripped crimson blood from the slaughter.

20. Palladas

In silence pass through this wretched life, imitating in your silence time itself; live unnoticed, and if not, then die unnoticed.

21. Theocritus

Bedfellow of no one, and mother of Far-fighting War, she bore the swift guide of the midwife counter-rock, not Cerastes, whom once the bull-fathered one reared, but him whose end once burned away the mind before the shield's rim, a whole name, of double nature, who held the longing of the windswept, voice-bearing daughter of Merops; who fashioned a shrill song for the violet-crowned Muse, a wound, an ornament of fire-crackling desire; who quenched the equal-voiced manhood of the grandfather-slain, and the Tyrian . . . , to whom Paris Simichidas set this lovely possession of the blind-bearing one. A soul, O cattle-treading, gadfly of the standing Saettan, of stolen father, fatherless, chest-limbed, rejoicing, may you sing sweetly to the mute girl, to Calliope, unseen.

22. Simias

To be written thus: A gift to man-goddess Athena the Phocian gave, repaying the grace of mighty counsel, at that time when, with fire-breathing wax, he set ablaze the holy city — not counted among the foremost fighters of the Achaeans, but now he has gone upon the Homeric road, thrice blessed, on whom in your heart this happiness breathes ever. Look graciously about us. For your grace, holy and full-counselling Pallas; but, in disgrace, bring the stream from the pure springs; of the sons of Dardanus, and the gold-dyed lords he hurled from their foundations; Epeius gave the axe, with which once he cast down the height of the god-built towers.

To be read thus:

A gift to man-goddess Athena the Phocian gave, repaying the grace of mighty counsel, Epeius gave the axe, with which once he cast down the height of the god-built towers, at that time when, with fire-breathing wax, he set ablaze the holy city of the sons of Dardanus, and the gold-dyed lords he hurled from their foundations; — not counted among the foremost fighters of the Achaeans, but, in disgrace, brought the stream from the pure springs upon the road; but now he has gone upon the Homeric road, for your grace, holy and full-counselling Pallas; thrice blessed, on whom in your heart you look graciously about us. This happiness breathes ever.

23. Anonymous Epigrammatists

On the book of Mark If you wish to master grief, unfolding this blessed book go through it carefully, beneath whose most blessed judgement readily you will see the things to come, the things that are and the things gone by, that delight and pain alike are nothing better than smoke.

24. Simias

Behold me, lord of deep-bosomed Earth, who set the son of Acmon elsewhere, and do not tremble, though so great, that I am laden with shaggy thick beard. For I came to be at the time when Necessity ruled, and all things yielded to Earth's grievous designs, the creeping things, all that creep through the air. And of Chaos I am born; not the child of Cypris, swift-flying, nor am I called of Ares; for I ruled not by force, but by soft-spoken persuasion; and Earth yielded to me, and the recesses of the Sea, and the brazen Heaven; from these I took for myself the primeval sceptre, and I ordained the laws for the gods.

25. Besantinus

The brine of holy things wets me not with its drops, as the murex stains with its purple ooze; and the Naxian knives, whetted upon the stone, spared the possessions of Pan; not with eddying smoke does the fragrant birdlime blacken me of the Nysian shoots. For you see me as an altar made neither of bricks of gold nor fixed of the lumps of Alybe; nor that one which the Cynthus-born race fashioned, taking the horns of the bleating goats, about the smooth ridges that the Cynthian goats graze — none such may be set as equal to me. For with the offspring of Heaven the earth-born ninefold company made me; and the king of the immortals nodded assent to their ever-living craft. But you, who have drunk of the fountain which the son of the Gorgon cleft, sacrifice and pour libation to me a draught far sweeter than that of Hymettus; come in good courage, to my structure, for I am pure of the venom-sending portents, such as that one hides about the Thracian Neae, whom near to Myrine the thief of the purple ram dedicated to you, Triple-Father.

26. Dosiadas

The husband of fate-male standing maiden made me, a mortal twice-grandsire, not ash-bedded, the son of the spectre, the doom of the Teucrian herdsman and of the dog's offspring, the lover of Chrysa, when the man-boiler shattered the limb-brazen wind, which the fatherless twice-wedded one, mother-cast, brought to ruin. But beholding my fabric the slayer of Theocritus, the burner of the thrice-evening one, cried out and lamented; for the belly-crawler galled him with venom, having shed its old age. And him who ever pours upon the wave-washed shore, the bedfellow of Pan's mother, the thief, twice-living, and the son of the man-eater, the destroyers of Ilium, with their arrows they led to thrice-sacked Troy.

27. Simias

The Egg of Simias Of the chattering one, here this fresh-woven web receive with a willing heart; for of the holy the loud-voiced Hermes, herald of the gods, came and bade it grow great, before, from a single-footed measure swiftly bearing above, slantwise the nod of the scattered feet he showed; exchanging limbs like the swift dappled fawns, the children of the swift-footed deer, all of them rushing on swift feet over the heights of the hills, on the track of their dear nurse; and some wild-hearted beast, having received in its breast the cry hurled to and fro, in the innermost chamber of its lair, and then, swiftly pursuing the hearing of the cry, at once it rushes through the shaggy snow-strewn mountain glen; to these the deity, shaking with feet swift as theirs, sends after them the intricate measures of the song, swiftly leaving the rock-bedded bed it sprang, seeking to seize the wandering child of the dappled mother; the bleatings of the sheep over the well-pastured mountains came to the grazing-ground of the slender-ankled, into the caves of the Nymphs; and they, with immortal longing for their dear mother, hasten at once after the lovely teat, striking with their track . . . the all-dappled, single-sounding voice of the Pierians, to the topmost tenth of their footsteps, dispensing the order of the rhythms, to the tribes of mortals, taking it beneath the wings of its dear mother; the shrill birth-pang of the mother bore it mightily in labour, of the Dorian nightingale the mother.

To be read as in the main text but to be written thus:

Of the chattering one, the mother here this fresh-woven web of the Dorian nightingale, receive with a willing heart; for of the holy the shrill birth-pang of the mother bore it mightily in labour; the loud-voiced Hermes, herald of the gods, came, to the tribes of mortals, taking it beneath the wings of its dear mother; and bade it grow great, before, from a single-footed measure, to the topmost tenth of their footsteps, dispensing the order of the rhythms; swiftly bearing above, slantwise the nod of the scattered feet he showed, striking with their track . . . the all-dappled, single-sounding voice of the Pierians, exchanging limbs like the swift dappled deer, the children of the swift-footed; and they, with immortal longing for their dear mother, hasten at once after the lovely teat, all of them rushing on swift feet over the heights of the hills, on the track of their dear nurses; the bleatings of the sheep over the well-pastured mountains came to the grazing-ground of the slender-ankled, into the caves of the Nymphs; and some wild-hearted beast, having received in its breast the cry hurled to and fro, in the innermost chamber of its lair, swiftly leaving the rock-bedded bed it sprang, seeking to seize the wandering child of the dappled mother; and then, swiftly pursuing the hearing of the cry, at once it rushes through the shaggy snow-strewn mountain glen; to these the deity, shaking with feet swift as theirs, sends after them the intricate measures of the song.

28. Anastasius Traulus

On the Crucifixion Christ was once pierced upon the cross, naked, in the midst, with robbers fastened on either side; and his mother, deeply grieving, lamented him shrilly, standing in her weeping, and another companion, a virgin; and laughing men, the wayfarers, reviled him, calling him a wretched, worthless, feeble creature; and to him in his thirst the lawless people of the Jews, delighting in blood, offered a hateful drink, mixing a bitter cup with vinegar, the food of destruction. But Christ stretched out in silence and did not ward it off, Christ, the son of Mary and of the immortal Father. What man will be so insolent and foolish as he reckons in his heart and beholds these things upon the painted panels; for it is God of man, and the mortal is no better than nothing.

29. Ignatius

Ignatius, having lived amid many transgressions, have left the light of the sweet-shining sun; and now I am hidden here in the dark tomb, alas, my soul long enduring its punishment. But, O Judge — I am a mortal, and you are deathless and merciful — be gracious, be gracious to me with kindly eye.

30. Ignatius

On Paul the monk The body, not the virtue, of good Paul does this tomb hide beneath it; for like the sun his most glorious words flash forth with radiance, and the labours of his virtue hold a great boast. Twenty years and three he served upon the earth, and living by reason he received a noble end.

31. Ignatius

On Samuel the deacon of the Great Church Holy Samuel is hidden in the bosom of the earth, having left all of life, all that he had, to God; and now he has run into the bright court of the pious, to receive glory for his great labours.

32. Arethas

written when he had become archbishop of Caesarea in Cappadocia, upon his own sister Though swift fate quenched my lamp of life, robbing me of the light of my torch, yet the demon was content, in the rage of his malice, to fill my whole life with grief; he made me a widow with the babe still lifted to my breast, nor did I see my fair child playing, a sweet ornament in the arms of its parents; therefore grief unbearable subdued me with the fierce fire of consumption. Three years past twenty this tomb received me, the host of my birth; here weave, my parents, aged, a dirge, tearing your grey hairs, and the band of well-born brothers groaning, remembering Anna, gladly recalling the splendour of her beauty.

33. Arethas

On the same woman The reverend character, the kindly grace, the obedience of her ways toward her parents — for modesty led her, like a great teacher, ever present — the bright tokens of her lineage, and her loving resolutions against nature that shook the unsteady with the violence of widowhood, overcome instead by the entwining of better things; the radiant garlands from which, according to worth, the one-husbanded boldness shining forth of Anna — the tomb shall not be able to dim it. For the mouth of her shall never escape any, that bore a fair admonition to life; and if it should, the inscription shall speak more than all, this one, set beside the very tomb.

34. Arethas

On Phebronia the nun Do something even among the spirits of men below, Phebronia, the tokens of your fellow-feeling, if there is here any need of the rich for the poor — for not even there are the souls of the great-hearted forgetful of their own kindness; and though the span of our life be sufficient, may it be God's to send her on to the bridal chamber of Christ, whom she chose, a holy bride of incorruption, brightening the lamp with the oil of love for the poor; of her know this to be the sign of her long sleep.

35. Theophanes the Confessor

Would that I had become a white lily, that with your hands plucking me, you might rather sate yourself with my flesh.

36. Cometas the Grammarian Both your tablets, O man of many words, Cometas, beholding, aged as they were, he has made them ever-flourishing.

37. Cometas the Grammarian

On the poetry of Homer corrected by him Your books, great-hearted Homer, two of them outright Cometas, finding them aged, made younger; for scraping off their age, he showed them most splendid to mortals, to the wise, in whom there is understanding.

38. Cometas the Grammarian

On the same Cometas, finding the Homeric books corrupted and in no way punctuated, having punctuated them, I worked them over skilfully, wiping away the rottenness as useless, and writing, I made the usefulness new again. From this the copyists, no longer erring, learn, as it seems, to learn.

39. Ignatius

On his own works Ignatius wrought these things, well-skilled in wise song; Ignatius wrought these things, who brought to light the art of grammar, hidden in the sea of forgetting.

39A. Ignatius

Having searched out the depths of Plato, you have torn up the passions of the reasonings.

40. Cometas the Grammarian

When the good son of the All-ruler, leader of men, who is lord over all mortals and immortals, spoke to his disciples, the wise fishermen: "Lazarus, our friend, has left the light of the sun forever, and now four days dead the boundless earth has hidden him." But he lay speechless, with lips closed in silence, his body rotting, and his bones and his fair flesh, and his soul, flying from his limbs, had gone down to Hades, and laid upon his friends unspeakable wailing and grief, and most of all upon Martha and Mary, his kindred, his own sisters; for they loved their brother dearly, who lay in the midst among the dead, lifeless, breathless even so. Bewailing his fate and mourning they made lament, sitting outside the tomb, and seated about the grave. While the sun ran its third day toward the earth, so long among the dead Lazarus wasted, breathless; but when the fourth rosy Dawn came, then the son of the great God spoke to his beloved well-born friends, who were born of God, who in counsel surpassed mortals, and surpassed all, whom he loved exceedingly, as though they were sons of God, from whose tongue a voice flowed sweeter than honey, and words like the snowflakes of winter: "O bright-souled friends, since God is with us, hear me, all you who hold God within, that I may tell what my heart in my breast commands me: come to Bethany, where Lazarus' life-breath left him, let us hasten with all speed, that I may win undying glory; for I go to raise our dear friend even from Erebus." And the noble bright-souled men answered him: "Let us go, as you command, you who are like to your father." They spoke; and he himself went on, and led his disciples. Hastening they followed in the footsteps of the All-ruler, as go the swarms of thronging bees, ever coming new from the hollow rock — so the disciples followed behind the great God. But when they came to the much-wept tomb, then the sisters and the kinsfolk, rolling at his feet, besought Christ the All-ruler: "We beseech you, lord, who dwell in the highest halls; Lazarus, whom you loved, has gone into the bowels of Hades; for had you been here, Aïdoneus, lord of the dead, would never have endured to wait, since you were far the mightiest; but even so, if you will, you can raise him again." And then the Most High answered: "Where does he lie?" And they swiftly went up the barrow in a body, and when they had shown God the man and the grievous tomb, he said: "Set yourselves and lift the lid of the grave." But when the grievous tomb of the dead man was opened, then God who is great, and man as well, cried aloud: "Lazarus, come here, hear me, and come forth." So when the dead man heard the Word of God speaking, loose-limbed he rose, bound, breathing, with the smell of death upon him. And the crowds, seeing him, were amazed in their hearts. At once they glorified the good God who rules on high, and the great Father won undying glory for his goodly Son.

41. Anonymous Epigrammatists

On the statue of Constantine the charioteer You stood not in bronze while still you lived, Constantine; for in place of fair fame, envy prevailed. But when you died, then the whole city honours you with what it can; yet what is worthy of your horsemanship?

42. Anonymous Epigrammatists

Since Constantine went down within the house of Hades, with him departed all the glory of charioteers.

43. Anonymous Epigrammatists

A golden prize in place of merit befitted Constantine, for the art brought forth no other like him. As a youth he conquered the famed drivers; and grown old he showed the young to be feebler. Whom even after death, by some ever-remembered decree, the people and the emperor set up in reverence.

44. Anonymous Epigrammatists

On Porphyrius the charioteer Porphyrius, who had ceased from his toils and loosed his band, and who already stood in bronze in place of merit, here again they set up in bronze and in silver. Old man, you who have met with the gifts of strangers, at the people's shouting you took up the reins again, and as one twice young you rage in the race-courses.

45. Anonymous Epigrammatists

On Julian the charioteer This Julian, offspring of a Tyrian nurse, a charioteer who won many crowns, the emperor himself, and all the people, and the august council set up, casting a common vote. For in old age he ceased from the race-courses; and to all he left a love-charm, in whom flowered the passion for rivals.

46. Anonymous Epigrammatists

On Porphyrius the charioteer This is Porphyrius the Libyan; upon the victorious chariots he alone won crowns of every kind. For royal victory, divided among the people, changed fortunes with colours and with robes; it fitted him to belong more to the Blues, from whom he rose, golden in place of merit, bronze in place of toils.

47. Anonymous Epigrammatists

This Porphyrius Libya bore, and Rome reared him, and victory crowned him in turn, now from one colour, now another, bearing the tokens of victory on his head. For often he changed his factions, often his colts; now first, now last, now in the middle, he conquered all together, rivals and comrades alike.

48. Anonymous Epigrammatists

On Uranius the charioteer Equal to the glorious — to Faustiniades and to Faustinus himself — the emperor set Uranius up beside them both, to whom the people gave, for his measureless victories, the surname of holy Pelops. "As ever God leads like to like" — so one beholding these would speak in truth.

49. Anonymous Epigrammatists

To you alone, both while contending and after you ceased from contests, Victory gave this prize twice, Uranius, from both factions; for of old among the Blues you wear the crown of twenty most glorious years. You ceased from horsemanship; but the Greens sought you; to these you gave victory, and they gave you the prize.

50. Anonymous Epigrammatists

You ought to have borne arms, not to carry these robes, since you are a driver, and a champion of wars. For when the tyrant-slaying spear-point of the emperor came, you too, taking up the lance, touched the sea-battle; and, cunning one, you skilfully seized a double victory, the one of the horse-race, the other of the tyrant's slaying.

51. Archias

On the Calydonian boar I am bronze, but behold how great the boldness of the boar the sculptor achieved, fashioning a living beast, the mane upon his neck bristling, gnashing his whetted tusk, sending a fearful gleam from his eyes, his lips all wetted with foam; no longer is it a marvel if he destroyed a chosen army of demigods.