The Animal Epigrams of Anyte of Tegea

translated from the greek by mary hamil gilbert. art by claire lesar. original by anyte.

 

Pollux 5.48

ὤλεο δή ποτε καὶ σὺ πολύρριζον παρὰ θάμνον
Λόκρι, φιλοφθόγγων ὠκυτάτα σκυλάκων,
τοῖον ἐλαφρίζοντι τεῷ ἐγκάθετο κώλῳ
ἰὸν ἀμείλικτον ποικιλόδειρος ἔχις.

For a Dog

By a thick-rooted bush in Locris you died,
Swiftest of all the bark-loving pups,
When a colorful snake pricked your fun-loving foot
With cruel poison.


 

Anth. Gr. 7.202

οὐκέτι μ᾽ ὡς τὸ πάρος πυκιναῖς πτερύγεσσιν ἐρέσσων
ὄρσεις ἐξ εὐνῆς ὄρθριος ἐγρόμενος:
ἦ γάρ ς᾽ ὑπνώοντα σίνις λαθρηδὸν ἐπελθὼν
ἔκτεινεν λαιμῷ ῥίμφα καθεὶς ὄνυχα.

 

For a Rooster

You’ll wake me no more at first light as before
Flapping your fast-beating wings with the dawn.
For Sinis the cat snuck up quick while you slept;
And ended your life with a claw to the neck.


 

Anth. Gr. 7.215

οὐκέτι δὴ πλωτοῖσιν ἀγαλλόμενος πελάγεσσιν
αὐχέν᾽ ἀναρρίψω βυσσόθεν ὀρνύμενος,
οὐδὲ περὶ σκαλάμοισι νεὼς περικαλλέα χείλη
ποιφύσσω, τἀμᾷ τερπόμενος προτομᾷ:
ἀλλά με πορφυρέα πόντου νοτὶς ὦς᾽ ἐπὶ χέρσον,
κεῖμαι δὲ ῥαδινὰν τάνδε παρ᾽ ἠιόνα.

 

For a Dolphin

I frolic no more in the fish-laden sea,
Or toss my head back as I rise from the deep;
Nor spout water out by a beautiful prow,
Pleased with my face carved upon the ship’s beak;
The wine-colored sea tossed me onto dry land,
And now I lie dead on this bit of beach.


 

Anth. Gr. 6.312

ἡνία δή τοι παῖδες ἐνί, τράγε, φοινικόεντα
θέντες καὶ λασίῳ φιμὰ περὶ στόματι,
ἵππια παιδεύουσι θεοῦ περὶ ναὸν ἄεθλα,
ὄφρ᾽ αὐτοὺς ἐφορῇ νήπια τερπομένους.

 

To a Billy Goat

The children have draped you in dark purple reins,
And stuck a bit into your thick-bearded mouth;
They ride you, dear goat, like a horse through the shrine;
So the god can look on as they caper about.


 

Anth. Gr. 7.190

Ἀκρίδι τᾷ κατ᾽ ἄρουραν ἀηδόνι, καὶ δρυοκοίτᾳ
τέττιγι ξυνὸν τύμβον ἔτευξε Μυρώ,
παρθένιον στάξασα κόρα δάκρυ: δισσὰ γὰρ αὐτᾶς
παίγνι᾽ ὁ δυσπειθὴς ᾤχετ᾽ ἔχων Ἀίδας.

 

For a Cricket and Cicada

Myro wept girlish tears when she built a twin grave
for a cricket and tree-hung cicada to share;
Just now they sang songs, nightingales of the grass,
But hard‑hearted death came and snatched both her pets.

Translator's Note

This selection of five short poems features Anyte’s most memorable animals: a frisky puppy, a merciless snake, a sporting dolphin, an indulgent goat, and a pair of musical insects. Her animals enchant us with their charming song, playful movement, ruthless killing, and short, but spirited lives. With the possible exception of “To a Goat,” the poems are eulogies, written to celebrate animals that have died. While they lived, these animals were very much part of the human world, and it is this intimacy between humans and animals that Anyte captures so vividly in her verse: a girl holds a funeral for her pet bugs, a billy goat “horses” around with the local children, and a dolphin leaps to and fro around the hull of a ship, delighting in its likeness carved on the prow. This last scene is particularly reminiscent of the Dionysus Cup which features dolphins swimming near a boat with a dolphin beak figurehead.

Anyte does not always name her animals. The epigrams may have been attached to a physical representation of the animal (an ekphrastic epigram), or the identity of some animals may have been intended as a riddle. I have chosen to name the animals in the titles of my translations (the titles are my own, not Anyte’s), but sometimes their identities are far from certain. For example, I call the deceased animal of the second poem a rooster, but it has been suggested that the creature’s “fast-beating wings” would be better suited to an insect than a bird. In that same poem I interpret the killer as a cat, but that too is a conjecture; others have suggested a fox, a weasel, or any other animal that might find a suitable eponym in Sinis, a mythological highwayman. The meter of Anyte’s verse is dactylic hexameter, and her descriptions are often punctuated with metaphors and epithets similar to those found in Homeric epic. Myro’s insects, for example, are called “nightingales of the grass,” a metaphor that elevates the cicada’s shrill whine to the lovely song of a bird with an exceptionally rich literary pedigree. In a similar vein, Anyte highlights the vigorous character of the dog by describing it as “swiftest of all the bark-loving pups” (φιλοφθόγγων ὠκυτάτα σκυλάκων). “Swift” (ὠκύς) is an adjective closely associated with the great warrior Achilles, and the novel “bark-loving” (φιλοφθόγγων) imitates epic compound adjectives like “laughter-loving” (φιλομμειδής, of Aphrodite). The resulting epithet adds a note of levity to the poem without diminishing the pathos of the dog’s early death. In my translations I have tried to capture the playfulness of Anyte’s voice without neglecting the heroic register of her word choice and meter.


Mary Hamil Gilbert

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