Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry (Brill Research Perspectives in Humanities and Social Sciences) 9789004469242, 9789004469266, 9004469249

Table of contents :
Contents
Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry
Abstract
Keywords
General Introduction
Part 1: Elegy
1.1 Overview
1.2 Elegiac Catalogues and Collections
1.3 Callimachus’ Aetia
1.4 “Local” Elegy
1.5 Elegiac Philosophy and Science
1.6 Conclusions
Part 2: Lyric
2.1 Overview
2.2 Performed Lyric
2.3 Literary Lyric
2.4 Conclusions
Abbreviations
Bibliography

Citation preview

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

Classical Poetry Editor-in-Chief Scott McGill (Rice University) Associate Editors Jackie Murray (University of Kentucky) Sophia Papaioannou (University of Athens) Jonathan L. Ready (Indiana University) Catherine Ware (University College Cork)

Volumes published in this Brill Research Perspectives title are listed at brill.com/rpcp

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry By

Robin J. Greene

LEIDEN | BOSTON

This paperback book edition is simultaneously published as issue 2.2 (2020) of Classical Poetry, DOI:10.1163/25892649-12340004 The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available online at http://catalog.loc.gov

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill-typeface. ISBN 978-90-04-46924-2 (paperback) ISBN 978-90-04-46926-6 (e-book) Copyright 2021 by Robin J. Greene. Published by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Hotei, Brill Schöningh, Brill Fink, Brill mentis, Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, Böhlau Verlag and V&R Unipress. Koninklijke Brill NV reserves the right to protect this publication against unauthorized use. Requests for re-use and/or translations must be addressed to Koninklijke Brill NV via brill.com or copyright.com. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

Contents Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry 1 Robin J. Greene Abstract 1 Keywords 1 General Introduction 1 Part 1: Elegy 5 1.1 Overview 5 1.2 Elegiac Catalogues and Collections 7 1.3 Callimachus’ Aetia 24 1.4 “Local” Elegy 43 1.5 Elegiac Philosophy and Science 48 1.6 Conclusions 57 Part 2: Lyric 58 2.1 Overview 58 2.2 Performed Lyric 60 2.3 Literary Lyric 82 2.4 Conclusions 96 Abbreviations 98 Bibliography 98

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry Robin J. Greene

Providence College, RI, USA [email protected]

Abstract This volume traces the development of Greek elegy and lyric in the hands of Hellenistic and Roman-era poets, from literary superstars such as Callimachus and Theocritus to more obscure, often anonymous authors. Designed as a guide for advanced students and scholars working in adjacent fields, this volume introduces and explores the diverse body of surviving later Greek elegy and lyric, contextualizes it within Hellenistic and Roman culture and politics, and surveys contemporary critical interpretations, methodological approaches, and avenues for future study.

Keywords Greek elegy  – Greek lyric poetry  – Hellenistic  – imperial  – performance  – book culture  – aetiology  – catalogue poetry  – popular song  – paean  – literary theory – genre – intertextuality



General Introduction

It has become commonplace to begin overviews of post-classical Greek poetry by stressing the fundamental and enduring social and political changes wrought upon the Hellenic world by the conquests of Alexander and the subsequent rise of the Hellenistic kingdoms, and not without good reason. As scholars routinely emphasize, many of the distinct archaic and classical occasions for poetry – performance contexts that had been intrinsically linked to the development and differentiation of poetic genres  – were transformed, eclipsed, or abandoned in this period, particularly with the diminishing role of the citizen in what had once been polis-based poetic performance (e.g., genres

© Robin J. Greene, 2021 | doi:10.1163/9789004469266_002

2

Greene

of choral lyric).1 Instead, organized associations professionalized much of popular poetic performance (below, 2.2), while royal patrons often supported the upper echelons of Hellenistic literati. The reduced role of the citizen in poetry led some scholars in the twentieth century to espouse the view that the erudite Hellenistic poets cared only for aesthetics in the wake of poetry’s perceived impotence to respond to politics or contemporary social issues.2 However, that “l’art pour l’art” perspective has long since been abandoned, and much of current scholarship, as we shall see, considers the roles played by poetry – elite and popular – in reflecting and often supporting the concerns, images, and ideologies fostered by Hellenistic rulers and others among the politically powerful (below, e.g., 1.3.5; 2.2–2.3). Scholars’ frequent comparisons to similar relationships between poets and tyrants in the archaic period underscore the continued, if altered, vitality of poetry as a medium for both articulating cultural values and promoting political positions.3 Hellenistic poetry’s decoupling from occasion coincided with the onset and dominance of “book culture,” a phenomenon most associated with the great centers of the new monarchies but certainly not limited to them.4 The literature of the past flooded into places like Alexandria and Pergamum, and the learned poets there largely experienced the works of authors like Pindar and Sappho as text-based literature. In turn, new literary tastes privileged composing in poetic forms amenable to easy textualization, i.e., dactylic and elegiac meters as opposed to the melic, strophic, non-stichic forms associated with archaic lyric.5 Regardless of their preferred meter, however, poets’ access to and interest in the whole spectrum of the Greek literary past through texts facilitated their cultivation of some of Hellenistic poetry’s most fundamental features, namely its dynamic and often allusive engagement with earlier works and models,6 for which scholars tend to favor intertextual approaches for interpretation, and its self-conscious incorporation of elements culled from different genres into elegiac and hexametric verse. Such generic experimentation is often identified as Kreuzung der Gattungen, “crossing genres,” a term 1 Excellent introductory discussions provided by Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004, 17–41; Krevans and Sens 2006; Barbantani 2009; Sistakou 2017b. 2 E.g., Bonelli 1979, esp. 5–9; Schwinge 1986, esp. 44–47. 3 E.g., Hunter 1996, 1–3; Krevans and Sens 2006, 193; D’Alessio 2007, 1.14–15; Morrison 2007, 12–14; Kampakoglou 2019, 20–21. 4 The much-cited third century Lille papyrus of Callimachus’ Victory of Berenice found in the Fayum, for example, indicates the spread of poetry as text beyond the cultural hubs of cities like Alexandria, on which see, e.g., Parsons 1977; Bing 2009, 111–112. 5 Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004, 27–28. 6 For a history of Pasquali’s “arte allusiva” from its beginnings through the works of such scholars as Croce, Giangrande, Conte, and into contemporary approaches, see Citroni 2011.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

3

challenged for its implications of a pre-existing notion of generic purity and as “too blunt a tool” to describe the intricate interplay of genres in ancient literature.7 Yet, regardless of the terminology used, Hellenistic generic exploration and its transplantation of specific generic qualities into various other types of poetry encourage us to perceive genres as active processes rather than static categories.8 For example, as discussed below in section 1.3.4, Callimachus’ two elegiac epinicians for athletic victors, perhaps performed at court or in similarly exclusive elite gatherings, adapted the tones and practices of the past, especially Pindaric epinician, into a form aligned with contemporary tastes and performance settings much removed from the public archaic occasions of encomiastic praise for athletes. The question of potential performance contexts for Callimachus’ elegiac epinicians brings us to the modern debate regarding “high” Hellenistic poetry’s audience. On the one hand, many scholars understand such poetry as principally text-based literature designed for circulation as texts, though more recent formulations admit recitative performance in such settings as the royal courts and exclusive symposia.9 However, others downplay, to varying degrees, the role of book culture, a position principally championed by Cameron, and emphasize the proliferation of performance opportunities for the circulation of poetry beyond the “ivory tower,” e.g., musical agones and cult festivals, as well as symposia.10 While the first position perceives a duality in the experience of Hellenistic literature, a divide between “high” and “low” poetry, the other side argues for more cohesion and continuity between the sophisticated poetry produced in cultural centers like Alexandria and the typically-performed poetry aimed at popular consumption. In recent years, as we shall see in Part 2, many scholars have reconsidered the complex relationships between performed poetry and “book” or literary poetry, and their work

7 Quoting Morrison 2007, 19. Kreuzung der Gattungen was first proposed by Kroll 1924, 202–204. The practice and terminology are extensively discussed amongst ancient genre theorists, e.g., Rossi 1971; Fantuzzi 1993; Hinds 2000; Rossi 2000; Barchiesi 2001; Farrell 2003; Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004, 17–41; Harrison 2007, esp. 2–18; Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2017. 8 Moreover, as Carey 2009, Acosta-Hughes 2010b, and Murray 2010, 108 (among others) observe, archaic and classical genres were hardly static or “pure” generic phenomena. 9 E.g., Zanker 1987, 1–37; Bing 1988; Gentili 1988, 169–176; Fantuzzi 1988, xxxiv–xlii; Fantuzzi 1993; Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004, 17–41; Hunter 2003; Bing 2009; Montana 2015, 60–67. Cf., e.g., Bing and Bruss, 2007; Bruss 2010, 124–129; Höschele 2010, 27–37 on sympotic recitation/performance, though see the doubts of Kwapisz 2014. 10 E.g., Cameron 1995, esp. 44–103; Falkner 2002, esp. 343–344; Krevans and Sens 2006, 192– 194; Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012; Sbardella 2019.

4

Greene

continues to rethink, redefine, and in some cases challenge the conceptual boundary between the two types.11 A second critical discussion centers upon the very spirit of Hellenistic poetry itself. Some studies – those of Zanker and Bing in particular – stress the persistent sense of epigonality and cultural rift felt by Hellenistic poets deeply conscious of their temporal and geographical separation from the past that comes to them enshrined in the texts of archaic and classical literature to which they so often allude.12 These scholars interpret Hellenistic poets’ pervasive engagement with their literary past as an attempt to repair this rupture. Theirs is the poetry of diaspora, written in cities like Alexandria that have no past, as Selden upholds.13 Fantuzzi and Hunter emphasize the poets’ constant awareness of their own “belatedness” as paired with their drive to innovate upon and radically (re)invent poetic traditions that speak to their own present.14 However, other scholars detect no nostalgia in, for example, the poetry of Callimachus,15 while some question just how intimidated by the past such a poet truly was.16 A few voices remind us that Hellenistic poets understood their society as the crowning telos of Greek history and not, as we so often view the period, the “in-between” culture separating Classical Greece from Augustan Rome.17 These various interpretations rely on examples drawn from the whole spectrum of Hellenistic poetry (especially hexameter poetry and epigram), though they undergird much of the scholarship reviewed in this study and will be returned to in discussions of readings of Callimachean elegy as creating cultural identity (section 1.3.5). In the two discrete parts of this study, I survey recent scholarly responses to post-classical elegy and lyric, the latter understood in the narrow sense as “melic” (i.e., not elegiac or iambic). Given that few works in either genre survive from the Roman periods – hexameter and epigram being far more favored forms in later ages – the focus will chiefly be upon Hellenistic examples. My aim throughout is to aid those embarking on the study of poetry in these genres by familiarizing them with select ancient examples, by introducing contemporary scholarly approaches to and evaluations of them, and by providing ample 11

Compare the ongoing debate regarding popular performance of Callimachus’ “mimetic” hymns, e.g., Petrovic 2007; Vestrheim 2012; Gramps 2018. 12 Zanker 1987; Bing 1988, esp. 50–90. 13 Selden 1998. 14 Fantuzzi and Hunter, 2004. Although the co-authors clarify who wrote each chapter, hereafter I cite their work as “Fantuzzi and Hunter.” Cf., e.g., Hunter 1996; Hunter 2001. 15 E.g., Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012, esp. 202–203. 16 E.g., Payne 2011, 495–497. 17 Radke 2007; cf. Acosta-Hughes 2010b, 91.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

5

starting bibliographies of significant recent research. Here I loosely define “recent” as starting around 1995, and I rely on the more modern cited scholarship to provide readers direction to critical studies of earlier generations.

Part 1: Elegy

1.1 Overview Elegy certainly earns its reputation as the most versatile of meters.18 Employed in the archaic period to treat topics ranging from the erotic, sympotic, and philosophical to the martial, historical, mythological (and more), its generic and topical malleability persisted, and even expanded, in the hands of Hellenistic poets. In addition to Callimachus’ epinicians, we also have fragments of elegiac epithalamia (wedding songs) and epicedia (poems of mourning).19 Most striking is Callimachus’ fifth Hymn in elegiacs, which Bulloch suggests reflects local Argive hymnic practice (the setting of the poem), while others connect it to archaic threnody.20 The later hymnist Isidorus replicates the elegiac meter, along with other gestures to Callimachus, in two of his four hymns engraved on pillars at the sanctuary of Isis-Hermouthis at Medinat Madi.21 Despite the variety of post-classical elegy, we find few examples clearly reflective of the two principal strands of archaic elegy: shorter sympotic poems on erotic, philosophical, and other subjects that were composed by the likes of Theognis and Mimnermus, and long, publicly-performed mythological/historical and encomiastic elegies (e.g., Mimnermus’ Smyrneis, Panyassis’ Ionica, and especially Simonides’ Plataea elegy).22 Yet, as Barbantani shows, evidence suggests the latter type of elegy remained rather popular in the Hellenistic period, 18 19

See, e.g., West 1974, 2–21; Gerber 1997, 91; Murray 2010, 107. Epithalamia: Call. fr. 385–391 and fr. 392 Pf.; SH 14; SH 961; Barbantani 2017, 356–357 surveys the examples. See below on Parthenius’ epicedia. 20 Bulloch 1985, 31–35 summarizes the various arguments. Effective treatment of scholarship on the hymn would require extensive discussion of Callimachus’ hexameter hymns, so this poem will not be treated further here. Commentaries are available by Bulloch 1985; Manakidou 2013; and Stephens 2015. See the recent studies of Vestrheim 2012; Cheshire 2014; Vergados 2015; Manikidou 2017. On the vexed tradition of archaic elegiac threnody, see recently Nobili 2011 and the overview of Murray 2010, 107–108. 21 On which see Faraone 2012 and Moyer 2016. 22 The modern bibliography on archaic elegy is tremendous. Bowie 1986 remains fundamental, with Bowie 2009; Aloni 2009 offers a helpful overview. Aloni and Iannucci 2007 and Lulli 2011 provide exhaustive discussion and updated bibliography, especially for the “new” Archilochus and Simonides. For Archilochus, see especially Obbink 2006b. For Simonides, see especially Boedeker and Sider 2001.

6

Greene

expressed in the form of historical elegiac encomia for contemporary monarchs that were perhaps performed at court or in symposia.23 All that remains, however, are single fragments from two poems that commemorate the military actions of kings (Attalids or, more likely, Ptolemy) against the Galatians, SH 958 and 969.24 Barbantani underscores their relationship with archaic historical and encomiastic elegy, particularly Simonides’ Plataea elegy in the case of SH 58, which characterizes the Galatians relative to the Medes (958.13-17) and employs Homeric stylization.25 By tracing such elements, Barbantani contextualizes the poems’ adaptation of archaic and classical forms within Hellenistic environments of royal patronage and praise.26 Bits of post-classical sympotic elegy also survive, most notably P.Oxy 13270, a fragment of an early-third century symposiastic anthology from Elephantine that includes three lyric skolia (drinking songs) and an occasional elegy on the rules of the symposium.27 However, the very form of its preservation – in an anthology – emphasizes sympotic elegy’s experience as a result of textualization. Scholarship, most significantly Gutzwiller’s monograph, highlights the late-fifth century rise in anthological collections of both shorter archaic elegies (e.g., Mimnermus’ songs and the Simonidean sylloge) and epigrams.28 The latter, once distinct from elegy by their inscriptional nature, eventually were divorced from material context and collected, while later poets like Asclepiades began the trend for literary epigrams that treated, among other topics, sympotic and erotic themes.29 Textualization in such anthologies, Gutzwiller stresses, resulted in the two genres effectively melding together, with shorter elegies generally being absorbed into (and effectively displaced by) the rising star of Hellenistic epigram. 23 24 25

26 27 28 29

Barbantani 2001, 3–62; cf. Cameron 1995, 274–302. Barbantani 2001, 118–135, with a persuasive case for Ptolemy. Barbantani 2001, 116–179, esp. 123; Barbantani 2002/3, esp. 35, with discussion throughout of the elegy’s relationship to the general trend for poetic commemoration of the Persian Wars. Simonides’ evocation of Homer is much-discussed; see, e.g., the essays, particularly Stehle’s, in Boedeker and Sider 2001. Cf. Murray 2010, 111–112 on this fragment and on Persian War poetry – particularly Choerilus’ Persica – as instrumental in the collapse of elegy and epic under the term epos. See Barbantani 2002/3 on such poems being possible targets of Callimachus’ contempt in the Aetia prologue. Pordomingo Pardo 2013, 163–168; Condello 2016. Gutzwiller 1998, esp. 3–6, 115–122; Murray 2010, 108–110. For the organization of anthologies, see also Krevans 2007. On Simonides’ collection, see most recently Sider 2016; on Mimnermus, see below, 1.2. On which see, e.g., Gutzwiller 1998, 122–182; Bowie 2007; Bruss 2010. On Asclepiades, see Sens 2011.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

7

Two types of elegy fairly distinct from their archaic ancestors instead came to the fore in the early Hellenistic period. First, long mythological pieces focused on a single narrative seem to have proliferated. Little remains beyond titles – which we often cannot confidently assert are elegies rather than hexametric narratives of a similar type  – and the scrappy fragments of our two most significant examples, Philitas of Cos’ widely-influential Demeter and Eratosthenes of Cyrene’s Erigone (section 1.4). Scholars can say quite a bit more about the second dominant strand of Hellenistic elegy, elegiac collections and catalogues, whose few fragments survive in better condition. These poems gather and arrange diverse material all related in some way to a general theme, be it mythological murderesses, erotic misadventures, threats against rivals, or stories on the origins of cultural phenomena (sections 1.2 and 1.3). Later witty examples even use the form for such topics as literary math problems and medicinal recipes (section 1.5). Collected references and narratives range in length from single verse mentions to episodes that span hundreds of lines, and the poems themselves may occupy multiple books or barely exceed the length of an epigram. Indeed, as discussed in the next section, some scholars suggest this genre evolved in part from the late-classical textualization and collection of shorter sympotic elegiac poems into anthology form. In amassing and linking content of various types, typically mythological stories but often historical material as well (e.g., Hermesianax, Alexander Aetolus, Callimachus), these elegies embody the “learned” post-classical spirit so characterized by a plurality of interests and the drive to collect, archive, and compare. The form, moreover, offers unparalleled opportunities for creative freedom. Unlike other mythological and historical poetry, catalogues and collections are unbound from any constraints on their material, may ignore linear narrative and historical progression, and have no limits upon their chronological or geographical scope. They are, in effect, circumscribed only by the poet’s own judgment and vision for their work. Elegy of this sort reached its zenith with the Aetia of Callimachus (section 1.3), who matches the almost dizzying diversity of his poem’s content with his self-conscious and often playful exploration and expansion of the traditional generic boundaries of the most versatile of Greek meters. 1.2 Elegiac Catalogues and Collections For much of the twentieth century, post-classical elegies other than those of Callimachus were studied not so much for themselves but as potential evidence for debates about other poetry. The fragments of a core group of elegies, most of them catalogue poems with perceived erotic dimensions, stood at the center of one of the most abiding controversies in ancient literary theory, the

8

Greene

debate over the origins of Latin amatory elegy. Scholars scoured the remains of poems like Lyde and Leontion for signs of subjective, first-person erotic frameworks so as to prove or disprove proposed biological models for the development of Roman poetic forms.30 Moreover, Alan Cameron’s resounding defeat in 1995 of the once-pervasive view that the Prologue to the Aetia targets epic thrust the same group of elegiac fragments center stage in discussions regarding the sorts of elegy and elegiac aesthetics that Callimachus, according to Cameron, was rejecting (section 1.3.2).31 On the one hand, this intense scholarly interest, regardless of the reason, has provided invaluable insights into such poets as Antimachus and Phanocles, many of whom will be discussed in this section. The relative lack of attention paid to the poems outside the context of larger debates is also understandable given the paucity of substantial fragments. Not a single long elegy survives intact, and most are no more than names to us. There is, frankly, relatively little to study. On the other hand, interest in what the elegiac fragments could be used for led to an imbalance in the field. Far more ink has been spilled over the potential amatory qualities of Philitas’ supposed long elegy Bittis – a poem for which we have no fragments and which likely did not exist – than over the poetics of the longest elegiac fragment preserved, Hermesianax fr. 7.32 In the last few decades, more and more scholarship has taken steps to correct this imbalance, moving beyond questions of the fragments’ relevance to Roman poetics or Callimachean aesthetics to consider them instead on their own terms. This section thus aims to reflect the fruits of these studies by introducing and briefly surveying current approaches to and evaluations of the principal examples of non-Callimachean catalogue elegy and collections. Unfortunately, the state of the fragments often limits methodological approaches beyond general literary interpretation and discussion of stylistics, possible models, and, in 30

Bessone 2013 provides an overview of the debate; so also Cairns 2006, 67–86 and 87–95. Cf. Knox 1993; Butrica 1996; Günther 1998. The debate has largely stalled, with general acceptance that some Greek elegies had such frameworks (see below), though their influence over Latin amatory elegy was likely limited. Lightfoot 1999, 17–34 passim offers insights into the complicated issue of narrator subjectivity in Hellenistic elegy. 31 Cameron 1995, esp. 303–338. 32 The most recent commentators agree that we have no concrete evidence for the existence of Philitas’ Bittis, and suggest that the name “Bittis,” which Hermesianax’s catalogue (fr. 7.75-78) links to Philitas, may refer to a character in or addressee of an epigram. If the work did exist, there is nothing firm we can say about it. On the debate over its existence, see Sbardella 2000, 53–60; Spanoudakis 2002, 29–34; Asquith 2005, 284–285. Cf. Bing 2003, 340–341 and Caspers 2005 for explanations of “Bittis/bittis” as a glossographical pun.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

9

some cases, specific allusions. Many of our most critical questions have yet to find answers. For example, the poems’ organizational principles, the relative lengths of discreet episodes, and the ways that poets may have forged links between narratives to build thematic resonance remain, for the most part, unsolved mysteries. Nonetheless, as we shall see, contemporary research has found much to say about the catalogue elegies and collections, particularly in terms of their development, relationships to myth and history, and engagement with other literary traditions. Considerable effort has been devoted to tracing catalogue elegy’s evolution, and currently many scholars view the late-fifth/early-fourth century poet and scholar Antimachus as a critical influence.33 Only a few dozen very short fragments survive of his two-book elegy Lyde, which apparently collected somber mythological stories about such figures as the Argonauts, Bellerophon, Oedipus, and Adonis. However, little can be said based upon the fragments about Lyde’s structure, organization, and development of major themes. Scholars instead have latched onto the pseudo-Plutarchian Consolation to Apollonius as our best witness for its character (Mor. 106b-c = T 12 Matthews): ἀποθανούσης γὰρ τῆς γυναικὸς αὐτῷ Λύδης, πρὸς ἣν φιλοστόργως εἶχε, παραμύθιον τῆς λύπης αὑτῷ ἐποίησε τὴν ἐλεγείαν τὴν καλουμένην Λύδην, ἐξαριθμησάμενος τὰς ἡρωικὰς συμφοράς, τοῖς ἀλλοτρίοις κακοῖς ἐλάττω τὴν ἑαυτοῦ ποιῶν λύπην. Upon the death of his wife Lyde, toward whom he was affectionate, [Antimachus] composed the elegy called the Lyde as a consolation for his pain, enumerating the misfortunes of heroes to lessen his own grief with the troubles of others. Ps.-Plutarch’s representation of Antimachus’ grief for Lyde resulting in the poem’s composition led to Lyde often playing a starring role in the debate regarding Latin amatory elegy. Yet other scholars stress the absence of erotic elements in at least some of the narratives (e.g., Demeter’s search for Persephone, fr. 78 Matthews) and instead underscore most of the episodes’ heroic content and tone, an impression fostered all the more by Antimachus’

33

Matthews 1996 provides a complete critical edition and commentary. He tentatively dates Antimachus to 444–380 or 365 BCE (15–18). See 47–57 for an overview of Antimachus’ scholarly activities and proto-Hellenistic interest in glosses and neologisms; cf. Krevans 1993, 151–153.

10

Greene

solemn but florid style and epicizing, spondee-heavy verses.34 Such imitatio Homerica may be at the heart of Callimachus’ famous disdain for the Lyde, as Cameron maintains.35 More importantly for our purposes, Ps.-Plutarch’s description of Antimachus “enumerating” these stories has generally been interpreted as indicating that the work was comprised of various mythological episodes that were collected and somehow linked together. Currently, many accept Cairns’ theory that the narratives were organized around a personal framework, perhaps a prologue or epilogue wherein Antimachus expressed his grief for the death of the apparently historical Lyde.36 It is often observed that the inspiration for such a collection of elegies may have come from Antimachus’ fellow Colophonian Mimnermus, whose Nanno, presumably named for either a flute-girl or love interest, seems to have been a collection of short elegies on a variety of principally sympotic themes.37 However, many suspect Antimachus had a heavy hand in creating his own “model.” West’s suggestion that it was Antimachus’ own arrangement of Mimnermus’ shorter elegies that constituted the Nanno, and that the title itself  – an anachronism in the seventh century  – was also his contribution, has been enthusiastically received.38 In either case, our limited evidence suggests that Lyde – and behind it, to some degree, the Nanno – stands as the first 34 E.g., Matthews 1996, 27–39; Asquith 2005, 282–283; Murray 2010, 112–113. 35 Cameron 1995, esp. 332–354; cf. Matthews 1996, 73–75. However, the poem nonetheless enjoyed a more positive reception among other early Hellenistic luminaries, e.g., A.P. 9.63 (Asclepiades) and A.P. 12.168 (Posidippus). See Klooster 2011, 69–71 and 131–137 on Hellenistic debates about the quality of Lyde. 36 Cairns 2006 [1979], 76–77. Krevans 1993; Cameron 1995, 315; Matthews 1996, 32–37, with extensive overview of the debate; Hinds 1999, 130–138; Murray 2010, 113. Cf. the valid criticisms on the inconclusiveness of the evidence of Lightfoot 1999, 34; Asquith 2005, 283. The personal framework theory is founded on a few pieces of evidence: Ps.-Plutarch (above), a possible line from such a framework (Call. fr. 814 = Antim. SH 79), attributed to either Callimachus or Antimachus, on which see West 1974, 169–170. This line may coincide with Hermesianax’s description (fr. 7.41-46) of the grief-stricken poet pouring his grief into his poetry. As discussed below, Hermesianax purposefully distorts poets’ “biographies.” 37 E.g., West 1974, 75–76; Krevans 1993, 151; Cameron 1995, 312, who also suggests that Antimachus was responsible for establishing Mimnermus’ birthplace as Colophon rather than the Smyrna. On the Nanno, see, e.g., Bowie 1986, 13–35; Allen 1993, esp. 20–23; Aloni 2009, 171–172; Bowie 2009, 149. 38 West 1974, 75. Thus, for example, Cameron 1995, 312: “It is tempting to suppose that it was Antimachus himself who in effect created the Nanno by arranging Mimnermus’ shorter elegies so as to give prominence to those featuring Nanno, to provide a precedent for his own elegiac miscellany, the Lyde.” Sbardella 2018 pushes this notion even further, arguing for understanding the Nanno as the name given to Antimachus’ arrangement of all Mimnermus’ elegy – short sympotic pieces and the Smyrneis – into a single, two-book collection functional for rhapsodic performance.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

11

long elegy that arranged stories drawn from various quarters around a central theme. While many see Lyde’s compilation of narratives as providing a critical model for the later catalogue elegies and elegiac collections (even the Aetia, despite Callimachus’ vitriol),39 the present state of the fragments reveals little in the way of Antimachus’ possible influence on more particular aspects beyond some later poems also being named for women (Leontion, Arete).40 In contrast, scholars have long observed that internal evidence in some of the long elegies points to another significant model: Hesiod’s hexametric Catalogue of Women (Ehoiai).41 This sprawling, dynamic work traces the genealogy of the great mythological houses through stories of the offspring of gods and women, women who, at some key structural moments, are introduced by the Ehoie-formula, ἢ οἵη (“or such as [heroine’s name] was”), from which the poem took its name.42 Rutherford’s recent study of the development of the catalogue genre allows for understanding Hellenistic catalogue elegy as a descendent of this poem, at least in some cases.43 A few lost Hellenistic examples certainly advertised the link in their titles, e.g. Nicanetus’ Catalogue of Women (Γυναικῶν κατάλογος, CA fr. 2) and Sostratus’/Sosicrates’ Ehoioi (SH 732). Likewise, some surviving elegies reflect their reliance on the Catalogue and its tradition through their use of connectives in the same spirit (e.g., ἤ ὡς in Phanocles), a stylistic feature that prompted Cameron’s indictment of their uninspired mechanical imitation of Hesiod.44 Somewhat similarly, Hunter interprets catalogue elegies’ repetition of “sub-Hesiodic” formulas as a reduction of the far more complex strategies of connection found in the Catalogue.45 Nevertheless, others maintain that some catalogue elegies engage with Hesiodic poetry in far more sophisticated ways as well. 39 For Lyde’s influence on elegy, see recently Murray 2010, 112–114, with Krevans 1993 on Callimachus. Cf. the hesitance of Matthews 1996, 37 on Antimachus as Callimachus’ model. 40 Though many of them, like the Lyde, favor Homeric diction and stylization. See the criticism of Cameron 1995, 381–385, and the thoughtful response of Magnelli 2000. 41 E.g., Hopkinson 1988, 117–118; Watson 1991, 96–100 with extensive bibliography. In addition to the Catalogue there was a second version (or independent version), the Megalai Ehoiai. Wyss 1936, xxii–xxiv understood Lyde as also using the Catalogue as a model, a suggestion seldom repeated. 42 West 1985 and Hirschberger 2004 are the critical studies; cf. the essays in Hunter 2005. 43 Rutherford 2000, esp. 89–91. Asquith 2005, 269 observes that the Catalogue’s varied and dramatic narratives often focused on ancillary figures and its “light” tone had much to recommend it to Hellenistic sensibilities. 44 Cameron 1995, 380–386. 45 Hunter 2005b, 259–264.

12

Greene

Phanocles’ early third-century Erotes or Beautiful Boys, which collects stories of mythological homoerotic relationships, offers a prime example.46 Only three poetic fragments survive, but Stobaeus preserves the 28-line story of Orpheus and Calais intact (CA 1). This radical variant of the more traditional Orpheus narrative recalls, with distinctly Homeric language and phrasing, how Orpheus turned to song to lament his unfulfilled love and subsequently advocated the superiority of homosexual desires to the Thracians (9-10). Infuriated, the Thracian women decapitate the poet and throw his head into the sea, whence it arrives at Lesbos and is buried by virtuous men. Consequently, the island earns its reputation for its excellent music. The final section returns to Thrace, where the likewise virtuous Thracian men repay the “savage works of the women” (ἔργα γυναικῶν ἄγρια, 23-24) by tattooing them “as punishment for that crime, which Thracian women pay to the slaughtered Orpheus even now” (ποινὰς δ’ Ὀρφῆϊ κταμένῳ τίνουσι γυναῖκες/εἰσέτι νῦν κείνης εἵνεκεν ἀμπλακίης, 27-28).47 The episode begins with the criticized formula ἤ ὡς: ἤ ὡς … Ὀρφεὺς … Κάλαϊν στέρξε (“or as Orpheus loved Calais  …”), which also appears at the short opening of a narrative about Adonis and Dionysus (CA 3), and presumably occurs throughout the elegy.48 While we may, as Cameron and Hunter do, fault the overuse of the Ehoie-formula as a monotonous oversimplification, the modification to ἤ ὡς does align with the poem’s focus on narrative rather than important women and also alerts readers to its general engagement with Hesiodic poetry.49 Readers are primed, for example, to note that the phrase ἔργα γυναικῶν ἄγρια recalls Zeus’ curse upon men who flee marriage in the Theogony’s tale of Pandora (ὅς κε γάμον φεύγων καὶ μέρμερα ἔργα γυναικῶν, “whoever flees marriage and the baneful works of women,” Theog. 603), an apt allusion in the context of Orpheus’ tale.50 Despite these gestures to Hesiod’s poetry, the Erotes ultimately inverts the Catalogue. As Asquith interprets it, “In dealing with homosexual affairs, it adapts conventional myths to the exclusion of women from the relationships described … In contrast to the tales of the Hesiodic Catalogue, such affairs are ultimately fruitless, in that they cannot

46 Alexander 1988 provides a stylistic commentary; text and short commentary offered by Hopkinson 1988; Tueller 2017. 47 Phanocles is generally dated to the early third century due to a possible allusion to fr. 1 at AR 4.903-907; so Marcovich 1979, 360–362; Asquith 2005, 271; Tueller 2017. Cf. Magnelli 2000, 113–114 for further on his dates relative to other poets. 48 Cameron 1995, 381; Hunter 2005b, 263. 49 Asquith 2005, 273–274. 50 Tueller 2017, 468.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

13

end with a list of children.”51 Phanocles thus turns the Hesiodic project of genealogy through love-affairs on its head and composes a catalogue in which non-procreative romances stymie the very possibility of future generations. This does not mean, however, that the love affairs narrated in the Erotes did not effect lasting change on the world in a way certainly different from, but comparable to, the offspring described in the Catalogue. Rather, scholars highlight that fragment 1 explains the origins (aitia) of cultural phenomena, i.e., the fame of Lesbos as a locus for music and the Thracian custom of tattooing,52 while also emphasizing the continuity between ancient story and modern reality with εἰσέτι νῦν in the final line.53 Other fragments further expose the elegy’s aetiological designs. For example, CA 5 presents Agamemnon’s foundation of a temple as the enduring result of the king’s love for the boy Argynnus.54 Even, as Gärtner suggests, the erotic dimensions of the poem are subordinate to these concerns, so far as we can tell; Calais never appears on the scene, and Phanocles instead focuses upon Orpheus’ translation of his erotic disappointment into song (3-5), effectively casting love as the aition for poetry.55 Our limited evidence thus recommends understanding Erotes as not so much concerned with eroticism as with transforming Hesiodic genealogy into cultural aetiology.56 Eros, Hesiod, and the catalogue form coincide in a very different way in the longest surviving fragment of Hellenistic elegy, the catalogue of poets’ and philosophers’ love lives in the Leontion of Hermesianax (CA 7), a reputed pupil of Philitas and the third member of the Colophonian elegiac triad.57 In 98 damaged and much-disputed lines, a narrative voice recalls the love affairs – some with a basis in tradition or history, others clearly invented – of 51 Asquith 2005, 270–271. 52 On which see especially Markovich 1979, 362; Asquith 2005, 273–274, with 276–278; Delgado 2007; Gärtner 2008, 18–24. 53 Stern 1979, 362: the episode concludes with “a typical aition by means of which the heroic tale is brought into the contemporary period.” See e.g., Hopkinson 1988, 178 on the common Hellenistic aetiological marker εἰσέτι νῦν. 54 Delgado 2007, 162, with observations on the aetiological aspects of CA 6; Gärtner 2008, 20. 55 Gärtner 2008, with comparison to the more obviously erotic P.Oxy. 3723 (discussed below). On love as the aition of poetry, cf. Stern 1979, 139–141. 56 In this, Phanocles foreshadows Callimachus’ engagement with Hesiod in the Aetia. See Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004, 49–51 on the relationship between Hesiodic genealogy and Hellenistic aetiology. 57 The other two being Mimnermus and Antimachus, who both feature in the fragment. Hermesianax’s dates are problematic, though most place his floruit in the late fourth and early third centuries, on which see Bing 1993, 624 n. 17. Hardie 1997, 36 argues for the poem being written as late as 270. See Sbardella 2018 for a provocative study of Hermesianax’s representation of the other Colophonians in the catalogue, which I learned of too late to include here.

14

Greene

six pairs of poets, generally organized chronologically and by genre (Orpheus and Musaeus, Homer and Hesiod, Mimnermus and Antimachus, Alcaeus and Anacreon, Sophocles and Euripides, and Philoxenus and Philitas) and a final triad of philosophers (Pythagoras, Socrates, and Aristippus).58 Hermesianax begins with an obvious link to Hesiod’s Catalogue: οἵην μὲν (“such a woman as …”), though throughout he deploys a variety of connectives, including first- and second-person verbs of “knowing” and “claiming” that advertise the alleged erudition of the narrator and his addressee (generally presumed to be Leontion).59 Lest readers miss the nod to Hesiod, Hermesianax’s narrator soon changes the formula into a woman’s name and casts her as the poet’s own love interest: φημὶ δὲ καὶ Βοιωτὸν ἀποπρολιπόντα μέλαθρον Ἡσίοδον πάσης ἤρανον ἱστορίης Ἀσκραίων ἐσικέσθαι ἑκόνθ’ Ἑλικωνίδα κώμην· ἔνθεν ὅ γ’ Ἠοίην μνώμενος Ἀσκραϊκὴν πόλλ’ ἔμαθεν, πάσας δὲ λόγων ἀνεγράψατο βίβλους ὑμνῶν, ἐκ πρώτης παιδὸς ἀνερχομένων. And I say that even Boeotian Hesiod, lord of all knowledge, left his home and came to the Heliconian village of the Ascraians [willingly]; there he wooed Ascraian Ehoia and learned much, and he wrote all those books of stories, hymns rising up from that first girl. (CA 7.21–26)60 All entries feature similar structures and motifs, along with several repeated stylistic elements, prompting Cameron to deem it the “silliest surviving product of its age” and to critique its linguistic monotony and “crude” mechanical imitation of Homer and Hesiod.61 However, other studies emphasize and explore the satirical trajectory of the poem. Bing’s reading interprets Hermesianax as targeting the pervasive mendacity present in some strains of the biographical traditions on lives of the poets, whose “learned” authors craft fanciful “real-life” biographies culled 58 Gärtner 2012, 89–103 provides critical discussion of the text, with extensive bibliography. See suggested readings of Caspers 2006. Sider 2017c provides text with brief commentary. 59 On the connectives, see the different interpretations of Hunter 2005b, 262; Asquith 2005, 275–276; Caspers 2006, 40. See Bing 1993, 630 and Caspers 2006, 41 on their claims to knowledge. Note the similarity to the Aetia narrator’s own claims to knowledge as catalogic formulae in Call. Aet. fr. 43 Harder. 60 Text and translation based upon Caspers 2006, 23. 61 Cameron 1995, 318, with citations of earlier, more amenable readings; 381.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

15

from the details of a poet’s own works. As Bing concludes, “… not only has Hermesianax blatantly and knowingly revised his predecessor’s [Hesiod’s] own account [of his life], he has dramatized (and thereby satirized and discredited) the biographical method….”62 In turn, Hermesianax’s particular revisions to the poets’ “real lives” are the subject of Caspers’ detailed study, which shows that the Hermesianax suffuses his descriptions with riddling allusions based upon allegorical readings of his subjects’ works, riddles that, once solved, cumulatively craft a novel but certainly distorted erotic literary history.63 So Hermesianax twists biographical details drawn from the Works and Days to represent the girl “Ehoia” as the “real-life” analogue to Hesiod’s Muses. This equation “enables him to claim the Catalogue of Women as a love poem: it was inspired by a woman beloved by the poet, and comprised knowledge that was conveyed to him in the course of their affair.”64 Elsewhere the poet’s play with the biographical fallacy rests upon perceived similarities between pairs, as we see in his treatment of Mimnermus (35-40) and Antimachus (41-46). Caspers argues that Hermesianax likely understood both Mimnermus and Antimachus as elegiac love poets, given the similar forms of the Lyde and an Antimachean-arranged Nanno, which in turn informed his parallel representation of their poetic composition as consolation for their own lost love lives.65 Gärtner’s study likewise stresses that the entries’ details combine to form a witty, self-conscious piece, which he understands as ultimately critical of its own catalogic form.66 Particularly noteworthy is his discussion of Hermesianax’s determined repetition of similar biographical events that serve to thematically link entries. For example, Hermesianax stages six figures’ departures from their homelands and subsequent devotion to poetry because of their love, e.g. Hesiod, Homer (27-34), Anacreon (51-56). Near the end of the catalogue, this “departure from home” motif suddenly morphs into representations of love causing a departure from normal behavior and intellectual pursuits, e.g., Euripides’ insanity (61-68) and Socrates renouncing dialogues (94-98). Gärtner underscores that this and other shifting biological “similarities,” combined with the structural monotony so bemoaned by Cameron, facilitate both fluid transitions and lull superficial readers into seeing a consistent message (i.e., “behold the power of love”).67 The result is a catalogue 62 63 64 65 66 67

Bing 1993, 631. See Klooster 2011, 61–63 for a similar allegorical reading. Caspers 2006, 23. Caspers 2006, 25–29. Gärtner 2012. Gärtner 2012, 88. Cf. Latacz 1985 on the power of love as a consistent message.

16

Greene

peppered with fallacious moments and connections that serve to satirize the process of creating catalogues: one can manipulate the typical logical monotony of the catalogue form to “prove” anything.68 In this sense, Gärtner understands the piece as a thoughtful  – and humorous  – reflection on its own genre. The identity of the narrator remains unknown. Although we tend to assume an authorial narrator with Leontion as the addressee, we are unable to discern fr. 7’s relationship to the rest of the poem, which seems to have contained mythological and historical love stories that, judging by our few examples, were transgressive or bizarre (e.g., the sibling incest and parricide of Leucippe, CA 5).69 It seems likely the catalogue was just one type of episode in a diverse collection of elaborated narratives.70 Hermesianax’s ridiculous summary of literary loves thus may instead be spoken by an inset character appearing just for this scene, perhaps, in the words of Asquith, “a comically ignorant pedant trying to woo his woman through a display of learning, a parody of a catalogue poem.”71 We often focus upon the erotic dimensions of these elegies, yet it is worth noting that, as discussed earlier, the principal fragments of both Phanocles and Hermesianax configure love as the impetus for literary creation. Phanocles’ broken-hearted Orpheus consoles himself with song and his burial initiates song tradition on Lesbos, while the ostensible theme of eros as the driving force behind poetry pervades Hermesianax fr. 7. Almost certainly this coincidence of themes results from the vagaries of preservation, and need not imply the exploration of literary or meta-literary topics as a persistent concern in either poem. In contrast, we find a defined focus on literary history in the poetry of Alexander Aetolus, a widely-traveled older contemporary of Callimachus whose generic diversity (tragedy, hexameters, epigrams, and more) and entrenchment in Hellenistic literary culture are thoroughly explored in Magnelli’s edition and commentary.72 Alexander’s elegiac fragments betray little overt interest in Hesiod or erotic topics, but his elegiac Muses was almost

68 Gärtner 2012, 89. 69 Parthenius’ Erotica Pathemata V (On Leucippe) cites Hermesianax for the tale. See Lightfoot 1999, 396–402 for commentary; cf. Latacz 1985, 89–90. 70 Asquith 2005, 279–280. 71 Asquith 2005, 281. 72 See Magnelli 1999, 13–44, and Magnelli 2000 for an overview of his biography and further consideration of his place amongst the Hellenistic literati. Most importantly, he stayed at the court of Pella and was also a member of Ptolemy’s “Pleiad” of tragedians.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

17

certainly a catalogue.73 The one securely-attributed fragment deals with the history of poetic reception: Ἀλλ’ ὅγε πευθόμενος πάγχυ Γραικοῖσι μέλεσθαι Τιμόθεον, κιθάρης ἴδμονα καὶ μελέων, υἱὸν Θερσάνδρου †τὸν ᾔνεσεν ἀνέρα σίγλων χρυσείων ἱερὴν δὴ τότε χιλιάδα ὑμνῆσαι ταχέων τ’ Ὦπιν βλήτειραν ὀϊστῶν, ἥ τ’ ἐπὶ Κεγχρείῳ τίμιον οἶκον ἔχει, …….. μηδὲ θεῆς προλίπῃ Λητωΐδος ἀκλέα ἔργα. But learning that Timotheus was most famed among the Greeks, for skill in harp and song, Thersander’s son, it pleased them [the Ephesians] he should sing, for a fee of golden shekels, of the holy Thousand-year feast, Opis darter of swift arrows, and her who dwells in honour at Cencrhius … Nor leave the works of Leto’s divine child [Artemis] unsung. (CA 4)74 Alexander’s story of the Ephesians’ positive response to the New Musician Timotheus long ago prompted the suggestion that Muses may have been a catalogue focused on literary genres or poets.75 Magnelli further draws attention to the unplaced – but likely from the Muses – CA 5, which praises the Sicilian epic parodist Boeotus as being accomplished in applying Homeric-style descriptions to “low figures” (i.e., cobblers, thieves, and eunuchs) and which, rather

73

Another long elegiac fragment of Alexander’s, identified as being from an Apollo and preserved by Parthenius in the Erotica Pathemata XIV, recalls an oracle of the god. Cameron 1995, 171–172 suggests it is from a catalogue of prophecies or famous visitors to the oracle at Didyma, though it may be an independent occasional poem. Magnelli 1999, 15–21 entertains the possibility and highlights the novelty of such a catalogue and its potential connections to Lycophron. Lightfoot 1999 ad loc also offers commentary. See Schroeder 2006 for thoughts on links to Hesiod in Alexander’s fragments. 74 The translation of Lightfoot 2009; cf. her discussion and that of Magnelli 1999 ad loc on the problematic readings of lines 4 and 5. 75 Cappellman 1834, 40 apud Magnelli 1999, 21; re-popularized by Cameron 1995, 381–382. Callimachus’ elegiac Grapheion (fr. 380 Pf.) may have been a collection on literary topics, given that the one preserved couplet attacks Archilochus; see Pfeiffer ad loc and D’Alessio 2007, 676 n. 4. More broadly, both Hermesianax fr. 7 and Alexander’s Muses may relate to the popular tradition of epigrammatic homages to famous poets, on which see Bing 1988, 56–70; Barbantani 1993; Acosta-Hughes and Barbantani 2007.

18

Greene

like Phanocles’ fr. 1, begins with ὡς.76 A catalogue of poets or poetic history would no doubt appeal to such an erudite Alexandrian. Moreover, the pair of fragments indicates that relatively recent literary figures operating in a variety of poetic genres, particularly genres infrequently connected to the typical tastes of Hellenistic poets, captured Alexander’s interest.77 In addition to fragments from known poets, a handful of anonymous elegies, whose papyrus fragments were discovered near the end of the last century (or were “rediscovered” in the pages of the Supplementum Hellenisticum), have also captured scholarly attention. The anonymous early third-century Tattoo Elegy especially caused a stir.78 Preserved on two separate second-century papyri that were originally part of the same book roll, P.Sorb. inv. 2254 and the more recently-published P.Brux. Inv. E. 8934 (= SH/SSH 970), the Tattoo Elegy features a speaker threatening to tattoo his addressee, possibly a rival for a lover, with a series of tattoos drawn from mythology that are linked by the formulaic στίξω (“I’ll tattoo”).79 The elegy belongs to a sub-class of catalogue poems – mostly in hexameters and pentameters – known collectively as arae, or curse poetry, which has been studied extensively by Watson. These poems typically narrate a rapid list of curses or desired punishments drawn from mythology for targets who have committed crimes against the speaker, ranging from murder to stealing a drinking cup.80 Several were composed in the third century by accomplished poets, including Callimachus’ lost Ibis (381 and 382 Pf.) and Euphorion’s hexametric Thrax (SH 413–415).81 Often characterized by comic incongruity, arae poems tend to threaten punishments far more severe 76

Magnelli 1999, 21–23, 205; Magnelli also adduces Callimachus’ connective use of ὡς in his catalogue of Sicilian cities (fr. 43 Harder). 77 So Lightfoot 2009, 102–103. Cf. Schroeder 2006, 292–293. On the Hellenistic reception of New Musicians, see below, 2.1. 78 Most scholars agree on a Hellenistic, but pre-Callimachean date. Authorship, however, remains a vexed question. Before the publication of the Brussels papyrus, Lloyd-Jones and Barns compared it to Phanocles; cf. Lloyd-Jones 1994, 4. Huys 1991, 77–98 suggests Hermesianax, with Slings 1993 disputing. Cameron 1995, 386, followed by Skinner 2005, 100 and Di Gregorio 2012, 109–110, nominates the early Hellenistic poetess Moero, who is known to have written curse poetry. I adopt the agnostic position of Rawles 2017, 42–43. Cf. Lightfoot 2009, who includes it under Hermesianax’s “Dubiously Attributed” fragments. On the poem’s likely length, see Rawles 2006, 493–494. 79 Papathomopoulos 1962 first published P.Sorb. inv. 2254; Huys 1991 first published P.Brux. Inv. E. 8934. For the addressee as a rival lover, see Lloyd-Jones and Barns 1963, 223; cf. Huys (1991) n. 2 ad col. i.4. The mythological tattoos include: the Centaur Eurytion on the target’s back (col. i.5); the punishment of Tantalus on his head (col. ii.4-13); the Calydonian boar hunt on his forehead (col. ii.14-24). 80 Watson 1991, 79–149 provides comprehensive treatment of all examples. 81 See D’Alessio 2007, 676–679 on the Ibis.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

19

than the crimes merit, as Watson notes, which certainly aligns with the Tattoo Elegy’s dramatic threats, especially given that forced tattooing was typically reserved for marking delinquent slaves or prisoners of war.82 Huy’s edition and commentary underscores the poem’s relative learnedness and sophistication, particularly in terms of its repeated Homeric resonances and detailed ecphrastic descriptions.83 Rawles builds on Huy’s first point in his discussion of the poet’s pairing of allusions to Meleager’s heroic narrative of the boar hunt in Iliad 9 with recollections of the proems to both Homeric poems. The poet’s grand gestures toward such revered poetic moments, Rawles suggests, constitute an intentional and ironical juxtaposition of “high” epic elements with the far less elevated reality of angry threats against an erotic rival.84 Bernsdorff’s analysis, on the other hand, takes its cue from both of Huys’ main observations and explores at length the poet’s approach to ecphrasis. In particular, he connects the narrator’s painfully-detailed visualizations of the threatened tattoos to Homeric ecphrastic strategies in the description of the shield of Achilles. Just as in the epic, the elegy’s prolonged, artistic descriptions expand the narrative and, in drawing out the threats, compound the addressee’s anxiety.85 The poet, in other words, weaponizes ecphrasis. A handful of short erotic catalogue elegies also garnered scholarly attention in the last few decades largely because of their possible relevance to the “origins of Latin love elegy” debate. Outside of the concerns of that strand of scholarship, they also provide helpful glimpses into the ways poets applied myth to personal circumstances and give us insight into the tone and quality of accomplished but less ambitious Greek elegy.86 First of the two best-preserved, P.Oxy 2885 fr. 1.1-20 (= SH 964) rapidly recalls a series of kin-murderesses  – Medea, Scylla, Comaetho, and Diores the Aeolid  – in an apparent attempt to dissuade a lover from pursuing another man.87 The final lines suggest a 82

Watson 1991, 133–149, with 119–120; Rawles 2006, 490, who also notes tattooing’s associations with “the barbarian.” 83 Huys 1991, though see Slings 1993 for a negative evaluation. Alexander 1988 also provides commentary of P.Sorb. inv. 2254; Rawles 2017 provides an overview and helpful short commentary. 84 Rawles 2006, 486–495, who further emphasizes the associations of tattooing with foreigners and slaves, i.e., the “low.” 85 Bernsdorff 2008. 86 See Butrica 1996, 305–309 and Morelli 1994, 402–420 for discussion and bibliography on P.Oxy 2884 fr. 2 (= SH 962) and P.Oxy 2885 fr. 1.22-45 (= SH 964), which I do not discuss here. Cairns 2006, 90–85 surveys the scholarship on all four fragments. 87 Butrica 1996, 301–305, with further bibliography; Luppe 2000 offers emendations that further support Butrica’s readings. Spanoudakis 2004 would attribute the poem to Parthenius.

20

Greene

personal and subjective framework by redirecting attention back to the (presumed) addressee: ἀ]λλὰ τί [ταῦ]τα διε.[…].[…].τηο δα.[ ο̣υ̣δο̣.[ ]τ̣ο.ουτ̣ ..[ ].. σιπο̣[..]κραδίην̣[ χλιαίνῃ δ’ ὑπ’ Ἔρωτος ἀτας[θ]άλου, ὅς σε[ δή τι κατασμύξας θήσει [ἐλ]εγχοτέρη[ν. But why … [these] …/… neither … nor … heart …/You are being set afire by wicked Love, who …/Has set you smoldering and will make you more worthy of reproach.88 Butrica interprets the poem as demonstrating the transgressive extremes to which “wicked Love” can lead, with the narrator dramatically equating their lover’s betrayal to the mythological women’s savage murders of kin. In this reading, the elegy reflects the paraenetic function of myth, here expressed as moral exhortation in a personal framework.89 Bremmer and Parsons’ publication of a 23-line elegiac fragment with a possible first-person framework added yet more fuel to the Latin-elegy debate.90 Scholars generally agree that P.Oxy 3723 narrates in catalogue form how desire for boys overpowered Apollo, Dionysus, and Heracles, with their erotic subjugation symbolized by their surrender of emblems of power (e.g., Dionysus surrenders his thyrsus).91 The final first-person question “Soul, to what … do I speak …” (ψυχή, πρὸς τίνα μῦθον ἔχω) may signify the application of the mythological material to the situation of the speaking narrator, perhaps to console or justify his own subjugation by his beloved.92 In light of this first-person statement, as well as metrical practices, language, and similarities to both Propertian servitium amoris and imperial epigram, scholars remain at odds

88 89 90

Translation by Butrica 1996, 302. Butrica 1996, 303–304; cf. Luppe 2000. Bremmer and Parsons 1987, with Parsons 1988. Cf. Magnelli 1999b, 1 n. 1 for extensive early bibliography. 91 Morelli 1994, 389–402 provides the most thorough commentary; cf. Butrica 1996, 300– 302; Gärtner 2008, 20–24. Magnelli 1999b makes a good case for reading a reference to Agamemnon and his love Agrynnus in the first two lines, a story also treated by Phanocles (CA 5), whom Magnelli posits as the poet’s source. 92 Butrica 1996, 301. Compare Gärtner 2008, 23–24 on the psychological-subjectivizing qualities of this scene in contrast to Phanocles fr. 1. Bremmer and Parsons 1987 ad 20 observe that Heracles or an internal/non-authorial narrator could be speaking instead.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

21

over a Hellenistic or imperial date.93 Should it be later, the poem offers a rare example of the continued production of mythological Greek catalogue elegy as informed by Latin literary topoi and aesthetics. After the later third century and Nicander’s largely-lost elegies (below, 1.5), our evidence for elegiac collections and catalogues generally evaporates until the last great voice in Hellenistic elegy, Parthenius of Nicaea, punctuates the silence.94 Just as Antimachus is taken to herald the beginning of post-classical Greek elegy, so too does Parthenius, for many scholars, symbolically signal its conclusion in the Late Republic.95 Admired by both Augustan poets and later emperors, Parthenian elegiac and hexametric verse would go on to be a significant influence on Latin poetics.96 Unfortunately, very little of his poetic oeuvre remains, though Lightfoot’s commentary provides the most comprehensive discussion of his poetics, which demonstrates a clear debt to Callimachus.97 Of the multiple elegies ascribed to him, the most famous was his epicedium (poem of funerary lament) named for his wife Arete, which presumably collected narratives in at least three books.98 Only one very damaged section of the poem survives (= frr. 2–5), along with brief scholiastic remarks, but even these tattered remains testify that Arete combined a personal frame with mythological material. In addition to noting that fr. 3.7 refers to “grief over the absence of Arete,” the scholiast further attests that the two securely-preserved first-person verbs, τρύομαι (“I am wracked,” fr. 2.4) and νείσομαι (“I shall go,” fr. 2.5), both refer to the poet, while mentions of Iris and Zephyrus (fr. 2.15) appear in close proximity to the first-person references. Throughout the twentieth century, scholars generally assumed Arete echoed the likely first-person framework of Lyde, given the similarities in their titles 93 Roman/imperial date: Bremmer and Parsons 1987; Parsons 1988; Hose 1994; Morelli 1994, 386–388 and 403–420, who offers detailed arguments for the second century CE. Hellenistic: Butrica 1996; Luppe 1996, 91; Puelma 1995, 413–415 who sees it as sharing a model with Philitas; Führer 1998, 47–49 suggests the author is Philitas. 94 Though see 1.4 on the Salmakis Inscription. 95 An impression fostered by the epistolary preface in his prose mythographic collection (Erotica Pathemata), wherein he entrusts his “little book” to the Roman poet Gallus to provide him material for versification. On this passage, see Lightfoot 1999, 367–371. Cf. Klooster 2012 for further consideration of the collection and the sort of poetry Parthenius may have envisioned his book producing. 96 See Lightfoot 1999, 50–96. 97 Lightfoot 1999, esp. 47–49. 98 Lightfoot 1999, 31–41, whose enumeration I use throughout, collects all fragments and testimonia for his elegies. Among them are an epicedium for Archelais (fr. 6), an Aphrodite (fr. 7), and an epicedium for one Timander, an unmarried young man who died at sea, as well as several other types.

22

Greene

and apparently shared consolatory postures. However, Lightfoot’s circumspect appraisal resists overstating Parthenius’ conscious debt to Antimachus. As she observes, the fragments of Arete “seems to have little akin to epic, or to epicizing, Antimachean elegy,” and a poem intentionally composed with an eye toward Antimachus certainly would be surprising from a poet whose principal model was the anti-Antimachean Callimachus.99 The sad state of our evidence renders questions of if, why, and in what ways Parthenius interacted with Antimachus impossible to answer. Indeed, without further fragments, much about Parthenius’ elegies must remain a mystery. In the mid-2000s it seemed as though new evidence had, in fact, been discovered with Henry’s 2005 editio princeps of P.Oxy. 4711. This sixth-century CE papyrus codex preserves fragments of short elegiac narratives with Callimachean overtones about the transformations of Adonis, Asterie, and Narcissus. The first commentators cautiously suggested the lines derive from Parthenius’ Metamorphoses,100 a work for which we have such scant evidence that we cannot even say if it was verse or prose.101 Despite the initial scholarly enthusiasm that followed, P.Oxy. 4711 is not Parthenian, as shown by Bernsdorff’s analysis of the elegies’ metrics, stylistics, narrative forms, and other features.102 Rather, Bernsdorff proposes that this may be a collection of diegemata, a sort of progymnasmata (rhetorical exercises) that encapsulate entire narratives in just a few lines, and thus should be understood within the context of school exercises. In this, the poems of P.Oxy. 4711 at least testify to the continued use of elegiacs in other imperial settings and offer evidence for the use of versified diegemata. I should like to end with the curious case of one Sostratus’ Tiresias, a purported elegiac narrative that tells of seven metamorphoses  – six of them transformations of biological sex – experienced by Tiresias, which the twelfthcentury bishop Eustathius preserved in a long prose summary (SH 733). O’Hara’s comprehensive discussion of the summary makes the tentative case for identifying Sostratus as Sostratus of Nysa, a Late Republican grammaticus and author of prose works on recondite topics.103 As O’Hara shows, 99 100 101 102 103

Lightfoot 1999, 33–34. She, along with Cameron 1995, 332–334, highlights the appraisal of Pfeiffer 1943, 61, that our limited evidence points to the Arete being a work that was not much in the tradition of Antimachus. So, e.g., Henry 2005, 47; Hutchinson 2006; Luppe 2006, 55; Magnelli 2006, 10–11. Though see Lightfoot 1999 and Bernsdorff 2007, 6–7 on the possibility that fr. 28 belongs to that poem. Bernsdorff 2007. Cf. Reed 2006 for similar doubts. O’Hara 1996, 204–214. It is also possible that this is the same Sostratus/Sosicrates of Phanogoria credited with the catalogue elegy Ehoioi (SH 732), on which see O’Hara 1996, 202; compare Cameron 1995, 382.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

23

each dramatic episode either rethinks earlier versions of the Tiresias story (e.g., as a female, Tiresias is assaulted while bathing, an inversion of the story narrated in Callimachus’ fifth Hymn), or inserts Tiresias as a protagonist into situations invented on the pattern of other myths. For example, in Tiresias’ sixth transformation, the then-male was transformed by Aphrodite into an old woman because he awarded first-place to the Graces in a beauty contest held at the wedding of Peleus and Thetis, an obvious play on the Judgment of Paris. In summary form, Sostratus’ treatment of the various transformations of Tiresias – who ultimately ends as a mouse of unspecified sex – may seem at best rather bizarre and at worst vulgar. O’Hara, however, highlights the depth of mythographical knowledge displayed in Sostratus’ reshaping of popular mythic elements, which harks back to the learned poetry of the previous three centuries.104 Moreover, an episodic structure centered on a single theme recalls Hellenistic catalogue elegy, thus suggesting another poet was continuing the tradition of Hellenistic mythographic elegy for Roman audiences.105 But the case of the Tiresias takes an odd turn when we consider Eustathius’ source for the poem, the first-century CE Greek grammarian Ptolemy Chennus (“Ptolemy Quail”), an author whose untrustworthiness and reputation for the wholesale fabrication of sources was once unquestioned. Tomberg’s reassessment rehabilitated Ptolemy’s reputation for many – including O’Hara as well as Lloyd-Jones and Parsons – but more recently Cameron has responded with a study that once again implicates Sostratus’ “poem” as Ptolemy’s forgery.106 We are thus left with a detailed summary of a catalogue elegy that either once existed and, as O’Hara argues, may have had an impact on Catullus,107 or one that never existed in the first place. If the latter is the case, the Tiresias offers a fascinating example of imperial-era play with the conventions of Hellenistic elegiac catalogue to manufacture not only new mythological stories but even a poem itself which, for all its strangeness, nonetheless feels relatively at home within the post-classical elegiac tradition.

104 O’Hara 1996, who also highlights elements that may reflect Hellenistic epyllion. 105 Three Roman-era Greek elegists, Agathyllus (SH 15 and 16), Butas (SH 235 and 236), and Simylus (SH 724) wrote about Roman myth and history, though little remains and scholars have generally overlooked the first two. On Simylus’ four couplets on Tarpeia (and briefly Butas), see Welch 2015, 225–238. 106 Tomberg 1968, with O’Hara 1996, esp. 198–200, who provides bibliography for the debate; Cameron 2004, 150–153. 107 O’Hara 1996, 212–214.

24

Greene

1.3 Callimachus’ Aetia 1.3.1 Overview The influence of Callimachus’ fragmentary Aetia, the best-preserved and most famous elegy from the Hellenistic period, is difficult to overestimate.108 Massive in chronological and geographical scope, the poem collects tales of the origins (aitia) of existing phenomena – local cult rituals, institutions, cities, statues, and so on – in more than fifty episodes set throughout the greater Mediterranean world, in times ranging from the period before the Trojan War up to the poet’s present in Alexandria. A carefully-crafted “aetiological world history” that links the idiosyncrasies of the present with their “causes” in the past,109 the poem manifests Callimachus’ learning in every episode, most of which he draws from local histories and other texts at the Library of Alexandria.110 He combines this erudition with his sophisticated engagement with literary ancestors, self-conscious interest in the past, poetic dexterity, and playfulness to form the poem which now constitutes the center of studies of Hellenistic elegy. Considerable effort, aided greatly by the surviving commentary of the Florentine and Milan diegetes,111 has gone into reconstructing the poem’s narrative progression. Despite the Aetia’s ostensibly random chronological and geographical organization, scholars have identified elements of Rinkomposition, as well as multiple thematic, mytho-historical, and geographical connections between episodes.112 Books 3 and 4, which many believe later additions (along with the Prologue and the epilogue),113 are framed by the court poems for Berenice (Victory of Berenice, fr. 54-60j and Lock of Berenice fr. 110) and contain episodes that follow upon each other with no connecting narrative.114 In contrast, Callimachus organizes the first two books around the 108 The most thorough introduction to the poem and its cultural and literary context is Harder 2012, 1.1–72, with Massimilla 1996, 29–49 and 2010, 41–64. 109 Harder, 2010, 97, with further at Harder 2019, 22–24; cf. Bing 1988, 71. 110 See, e.g., Krevans 2004; Lehnus 2004; Ragone 2006; Benedetto 2011; Greene 2017 on his use of local histories. 111 On which see Bastianini 2006 and Falivene 2011. 112 Massimilla 2011 provides an overview of the order, length, and possible connections between episodes. Cf., e.g., Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004, 44–47; Bulloch 2006; Harder 2012, 1.15–21. Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012, 171–172 emphasize that the narrator appears in all four books. On the papyri and their histories, see Lehnus 2011. For scholars rethinking the “randomness”, see below, 1.3.5. 113 Most significantly Parsons 1977, 49–50; see Massimilla 1996, 34–40 and Harder 2012, 1.2–8 for the debate, which affects dating. The terminus post quem for the Berenice poems is 246/5; see Harder 2012, 1.21–23. 114 I use the text, enumeration, and translations of Harder 2012 throughout.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

25

framework of his poetic narrator’s Theogony-inspired dream conversation with the Muses on Helicon, with their responses to the narrator’s aetiological questions comprising much of the narrative. Here Callimachus, like many catalogue elegists before him, engages with Hesiod as a principal model,115 though he does so not through stylistic echoes but by the explicit patterning of his narrator’s experiences onto those of the archaic poet.116 For Selden, the dream (fr. 2) communicates Callimachus’ representation of himself as the new Panhellenic poet for a modern and muchchanged age.117 Similarly, Fantuzzi and Hunter’s analysis of the dream sequence as it relates to the Aetia’s content (i.e., the origins of cultic rites and institutions devoted to worshipping gods and heroes) recommends understanding the poem as a notional sequel to the Theogony, which tells of the origins of the gods and heroes themselves. Whereas Hesiod’s genealogical practice recounts the origins of the divine, Callimachus’s aetiological project, in turn, considers the origins of humanity’s cultic relationship with the divine.118 Moreover, a moralizing reference in the dream scene to the Works and Days, “the man who devises evil against another devises evil against himself; evil plans turn out worst for the plotter himself,” (fr. 2.5; compare Op. 265) seems to foreshadow themes threaded throughout the poem.119 Many of the aitia, as Harder shows, promote shared cultural values (e.g., hospitality, punishment for crimes) and stage “evil plans” turning out “worse of the plotter himself.”120 Indeed, despite the seemingly chaotic narrative organization, scholars detect gradual moral progress toward civilization and civilized expansion in the poem’s treatment of these and similar themes.121 The dream and Callimachus’ engagement with Hesiod also occupy critical places in evaluations of the poet’s consciousness of his present position 115 For much of the twentieth century, Hesiod was generally – and problematically – understood as the poet’s principal aesthetic model (in contrast to the epic Homer), a view that has largely been amended. Sistakou 2009 provides a survey of the history of the scholarship (219–221) and an updated reading of the Aetia’s interactions with Hesiodic poetry, including the Catalogue of Women, for which see also Hunter 2005b, 241–243. 116 Cf. Massimilla 1996, 234–237 for discussion of the differences between Hesiod and the Aetia narrator’s experiences and the poetic motif of dream scenes. 117 Selden 1998, 357–358. 118 Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004, 54–55. 119 Harder 2003, esp. 265; Hunter 2008; cf. Cameron 1995, 129–130, who understands it as referring to the Telchines in fr. 1. 120 Harder 2003. 121 Harder 2003, 304; cf. Harder 2012, 1.19–21; Sistakou 2009, 227. Compare Hutchinson 2003 on the development and progress of knowledge as a critical theme. Cf. Clauss 2000 on similar movement toward civilization in the Argonautica.

26

Greene

and poetics relative to the past, as discussed in the Introduction. Bing’s reading understands the dream as reflecting the poet’s geographical and temporal estrangement from his cultural past, an epigonality that renders true reenactment of Hesiod’s “realistic” experience impossible.122 Only in dreams can the Hellenistic poet bridge such a rupture. Fantuzzi and Hunter, in turn, regard the very practice of aetiology – of systematically collecting, preserving, and even reviving the past  – as speaking to the Hellenistic sense of “coming after”.123 Yet some scholars stress that the narrator’s effortless dream travel to Helicon is an entirely mental process, with the Muses existing in the narrator’s own mind.124 Klooster’s allegorical interpretation reads this internalization of the Muses as representing Callimachus’ true sources of inspiration and information, the texts in the Mouseion that allow him easy and unprecedented access to the past.125 In this sense, we may detect a note of joyous modernity in the scene; Callimachus has no need to truly go to Helicon, for Helicon now lies ready at his fingertips. Discussions such as these fill the pages of Callimachean studies. Any attempt in such a small space to provide even the pretense of a thorough, comprehensive overview of contemporary scholarship on the poem is doomed from the start – we are traveling extremely well-trodden paths. Therefore, the following sections aim to familiarize readers with the recent history and current trajectories of Callimachean scholarship by providing a small cross-section of contemporary approaches to select episodes and topics, and to equip readers with a starting bibliography of some of the major studies published in the last generation. To begin: the principal editions and commentaries are Massimilla 1996 (Aetia 1 and 2), Massimilla 2010 (Aetia 3 and 4), and Harder 2012 (Aetia 1–4, 2 volumes), though Pfeiffer’s 1949 edition remains critical. All editions vary the ordering of fragments. Partial commentaries are provided by Hopkinson 1988 (fr. 1 and 67-75 Pf.), Fabian 1992 (Aetia 2), and Marinone 1997 (fr. 110 Pf.). The editions/translations of Nisetich 2001 (English), Asper 2004 (Greek/German), and D’Alessio 2007⁴ (Greek/Italian) also provide instructive critical notes. The

122 Bing 1988, 70–71. Cf. Selden 1998, 358–359, on spatial and literary dislocation and displacement. 123 Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004, 49–51. Cf. Zanker 1987, 120–127 on aetiology as a remedy for cultural and temporal isolation. Contrast Cameron 1995, 48–49 on the popularity of local history in performed poetry, though here we should note audiences seemed pleased by hearing their own local history. 124 Nisetich 2001, xli; Harder 2007, 38; Harder 2012, 2.94. 125 Klooster 2011, 9–10.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

27

bibliography of Callimachean studies from 1489–1998 compiled by Lehnus 2000 is indispensable. 1.3.2 The Prologue No passage of Callimachean verse has aroused such scholarly passion as the Prologue to the Aetia (fr. 1). Against the charges relating to his poetry’s content, length, and style muttered by the shadowy group of Telchines, the embattled old Callimachean narrator mounts a defense for his “child-like” (1.56) poetry, famously invoking his poetic preference for the small, refined, and sweet-sounding, as well as Apollo’s injunction for innovation. For much of the twentieth century, the Prologue was understood as reflecting Callimachus’ defense of elegy over epic, a battle principally waged against Apollonius of Rhodes.126 As discussed earlier, Cameron effectively challenged that view in 1995, and instead argued that Callimachus focuses on the aesthetics of elegy, with slavish elegiac imitations of Hesiod and Homer, (i.e., the Lyde and earlier catalogue elegies) as his targets.127 Currently, many scholars accept Cameron’s general premise that the Prologue constitutes a metapoetic statement articulating the poet’s values regarding poetic style, content, tone, and novelty, but consider Callimachus’ focus to be poetry in general, not just elegy.128 Indeed, many view the Prologue’s metapoetic force as relying on the subtext created by its onslaught of metaphors, images, and other moments drawn from literature in a great variety of genres.129 Two studies have been particularly influential. Acosta-Hughes and Stephens’ analysis untangles and explains Callimachus’ many allusions as studied “misreadings” of earlier authors’ texts (e.g., Aesop, Aristophanes, Euripides, Homer, Sappho). Callimachus’ incorporation of these moments, in turn, serves to situate the poet within the Greek literary traditions which he, with his new poetic aesthetic and “childlike” creative energy, aims to renovate and supplant.130 Fantuzzi and Hunter offer a rather similar reading that understands the poet’s old age as representing his 126 Klooster 2011, 121–127 provides an updated overview of the debate, with bibliography; cf. Harder 2019. 127 Cameron 1995, esp. 303–386. Of course, this is not to say that Callimachus does not engage with Apollonius in the Prologue or elsewhere. Rather, scholars continue to explore their relationship and considerable interaction, as can be seen most recently in Barbantani 2019. 128 See the formulation of Harder 2002, 211. 129 Note that general adherence to this interpretation often coincides with, but does not necessitate, biographical readings of the Prologue. 130 Acosta-Hughes and Stephens, 2002. See also Asper 1997, 148–152, who connects the poet’s “child-like” poetry to the antithesis in Callimachus’ thinking between “large” and “small”.

28

Greene

consciousness of the great literary tradition that weighs down upon him.131 The Callimachean narrator’s hope for rejuvenation/immortality (1.32-36) thus translates to both his refusal to adopt the traditional poetic practices the Telchines demand and his desire to be unburdened of the weight of the past so he can sing freely. In the scene that follows, the narrator dreams of himself as a young man who interacts with the Muses just as he pleases, a sequence which Fantuzzi and Hunter maintain effectively casts the Aetia as Callimachus’ rejuvenated poetics.132 Both studies have shaped contemporary interpretations, but they hardly represent the only voices in the conversation. However, Massimilla’s and especially Harder’s more recent commentary address nearly every major reading of, and issue regarding, the Prologue, and there is little point in rehearsing the impossible mass of scholarly views and sources they include. Rather, here I briefly introduce a handful of studies from the last fifteen years that offer fresh perspectives on the Prologue, suggest new avenues for interpretation that extend beyond the Prologue, or address preexisting debates. If any theme links (most) of these recent contributions, it is that they particularly look to Callimachus’ own context – to the contemporary realities of his cultural and literary environment – and in doing so further balance Callimachus’ much-discussed “backward glance” with consideration of the conditions of his present. Klooster adds her endorsement to the theory of Asper and Schmitz (followed by Morrison), who separately argue that the Prologue should not be read as a definitive literary-critical manifesto but as a captatio benevolentiae, an introduction rhetorically designed to elicit the reader’s support that does not reflect (or does not need to reflect) biographical realities.133 Unlike her predecessors, whose readings appear in literary and narratological studies, Klooster enfolds her discussion into a much broader exploration of contemporary Alexandrian social and literary life that relies on Pierre Bourdieu’s sociological theory of “distinction”.134 Approached from this perspective, the literary quarrels of the 131 Fantuzzi and Hunter, 2004, 66–76. Cf. Livrea 1997, 37–42 on Callimachus’ old age. 132 Cf. Scodel 1980 on Hesiod’s reputed rejuvenation and second life. Massimilla 1996, 237, however, understands the scene as the poet remembering a dream that he’d had as a young man. 133 Asper 1997 and 2001, 88–93; Schmitz 1999; Morrison 2007, 178–182; Klooster 2011, 127–137. While most coincide on fundamental points, their arguments do differ (e.g., Klooster allows for the existence of a historical debate about elegy or poetics). Asper’s work, moreover, deserves further comment, as he provides richly-researched interpretations of the language and imagery of the Prologue that regularly challenge more mainstream readings. See below, 1.3.3, on Schmitz and Morrison. 134 Bourdieu 1993.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

29

Prologue reflect the elite Alexandrian poets’ rhetorical deployment of criticism and praise for other authors – long dead and contemporary – as part of their quest to articulate, secure, and elevate their own places in the literary tradition. Murray introduces a new possibility into the ongoing fracas over lines 9–12, wherein it seems two shorter, refined poems (the “bountiful Thesmophoria” certainly refers to the Demeter of Philitas, on which see below, 1.4) are preferred over two longer ones, with Mimnermus’ name also being preserved.135 Briefly, it seems Callimachus is either (1) articulating a preference for Philitas’ Demeter over another of Philitas’ works, and for Mimnermus’ Nanno over, perhaps, his mythological narrative Smyrneis, or (2) comparing two modern poems in the tradition of Mimnermus’ archaic elegies, with Demeter being preferred over, potentially, Lyde. Drawing on her exploration of the post-classical collapse of elegy with epic under the umbrella term ἔπος, Murray challenges the notional division between the two genres and, arguing for option (1), offers Philitas’ Hermes, a poem in hexameters centered on Odysseus, as the long poem the Callimachean narrator does not prefer. Scholars have long observed Callimachus’ expression of literary and metapoetic concerns through the deployment of Hellenistic literary-critical “buzzwords” like μελιχρ[ό]τεραι (16), λεπταλέην (24), and ἓν ἄεισμα διηνεκὲς (3);136 new evidence roots our discussions even more in the realities of ancient literary criticism. Gutzwiller and Romano provide updated overviews of the contemporary philosophical schools’ literary theories, especially the fragments of Philodemus’ On Style being published by Janko.137 Both survey literary-critical trends regarding poetic aesthetics and stylistics that have bearing on the Prologue (and Callimachus’ poetry in general). For example, their discussions of evidence for the theories of such groups as the euphonist critics, whose aesthetic principles were founded on the primacy of “good sounds,” continues to contextualize Callimachus’ investment both in the imagery of sound (e.g., sweet bird song, braying asses) and in the arrangement of sounds themselves in the Prologue.138

135 Murray 2010, 115–116. Massimilla 1996, 205–212, and Harder 2012, 2.32–44 provide overviews of these endlessly debated lines. 136 On which see Massimilla 1996 ad loc and Harder 2012, 2. ad loc. See also Acosta-Hughes 2019b on the phrase and Callimachus’ metapoetic interactions with Apollonius. 137 Gutzwiller 2010; Romano 2011. Cf. Janko 2001, 2011, and now 2020. Much of the new material from Philodemus was available to and is well reflected in Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2002 and Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004. 138 Cf. Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2002, 252 on sound in the Prologue.

30

Greene

Acosta-Hughes and Stephens’ recent work likewise centers on the literarycritical activity of philosophers. While the possibility that Callimachus invokes Aristotelian literary theory in the Telchines’ complaint that he doesn’t write “one long, continuous poem” (1.3) has been much discussed,139 Acosta-Hughes and Stephens instead address the contemporary role philosophical schools played as the judges and rule-makers for poetry. They take the position that the Prologue (as well as episodes in Aetia 2) targets philosophy’s appropriation and circumscription of the power of the poet, an attack comprised of a constellation of allusions and revisions to literary-critical moments in Platonic dialogues (Phaedo, Phaedrus, Ion).140 In their view, the Prologue ultimately attests to the superiority of the poet as one combining a τέχνη that “lays claim to the sophia (wisdom or knowledge) necessary to create (which he may share with the philosopher) with the divine state of inspiration or frenzy (which the poet alone possesses).”141 Callimachus’ “child-like” approach to poetry continues to be of interest and has generated three quite different new responses. Ambühl reassesses Bruno Snell’s Romantic reading of the poet’s “child-like” poetics, as well as popular interpretations of the Prologue, and argues that Callimachus doesn’t privilege youth over age, nor exclusively associate childhood with innovation, but rather emphasizes the value of the continuous evolution of the life of the poet.142 Cozzoli likewise returns to Snell and uses those aspects of his rather outdated “poetics of childhood” which still pertain (e.g., wonder, play, erudition, irony) as a springboard for a wide-ranging discussion of such topics as Callimachus’ authorial self-fashioning, his playful, surreal style, and the ways that wonder – the province of the child and the scholar alike – saturates his poetry.143 Radke begins from the idea of childhood to offer a deeply theoretical reading, set in a much longer work that views the modern and modernizing Hellenistic poets as hardly feeling weighed down by tradition.144 In her view, the Prologue stages the poet’s creation of a timeless mythology of himself as poet, a fictional

139 Massimilla 1996, 203; Harder 2012, 2.18–24. 140 Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012, 23–47, 68–78. 141 Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012, 46, particularly in relation to fr. 1.17-18: αὖθι δὲ τέχνῃ κρίνετε,]⌊μὴ σχοί⌋νῳ Περσίδι τὴ⌊ν⌋ σοφίην. 142 Ambühl 2007; cf. Ambühl 2005 for extended discussion. 143 Cozzoli 2011. 144 Compare the provocative remarks of Payne 2011, e.g. 497, where he wonders “Could it really be that Callimachus is completely unintimidated by his predecessors and finds it all too easy to outdo them?”

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

31

autobiography ungrounded in history wherein he may create both a new literary history and a new history of the world.145 1.3.3 Narrators and Narrative The Aetia concerns itself not only with telling stories but with the art of storytelling. Callimachus’ exploration of various narrative modes, especially when paired with his generic experimentation (next section), differentiates the poem, so far as we can tell, from earlier elegy. Certainly, the dialogic framework of the first two books contrasts sharply with the more monologic quality of Hesiodic and Homeric poetry, which distances the Muses from the narrative after the initial scene.146 Rather, as Sistakou observes, in Aetia 1 and 2 “the Muses sing with their own voice,”147 and, just as importantly, so does the young Callimachean narrator. Scholars regularly note that he reacts to stories (fr. 43b.1-2), tells his own tales (fr. 178),148 and eagerly displays the knowledge he already possessed independent of the Muses (fr. 43.40-55). In fact, the seemingly-chaotic organization of the various episodes often stems from the associative links the narrator makes between stories and his subsequent questions.149 With the narrative framework abandoned in Aetia 3 and 4, we instead find some discrete episodes in “Du-Stil” form (second-person address) featuring all sorts of narrators, particularly inanimate objects (e.g., gravestones, statues, Berenice’s hair). The use of Du-Stil and the personified narrators prompted Gutzwiller’s attractive suggestion that these books reflect the influence of Hellenistic epigram collections.150 Despite changes in framework and style, however, the primary voice of the poetic narrator still regularly appears, even invading the narratives themselves to offer commentary. Most studies that incorporate discussion of the narrators and narratives of the Aetia consider individual episodes, often in terms of their intertexts and allusiveness. A comprehensive, extended study of the Aetia from a narratological perspective remains a desideratum.151 At present, Harder’s short 145 Radke 2007, 273–281. 146 Fundamental discussion at Harder 1988; cf. Cameron 1995; Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004, 45; Klooster 2013, 170–171. 147 Sistakou 2009, 226; cf. Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004. On Callimachus’ Muses and for the suggestion that Berenice serves as the “Muse” for Books 3 and 4, see Morrison 2011. 148 Many agree that this unplaced fragment belongs in Book 2; see Massimilla 1996, 401–403; Harder 2012, 2.956–957. 149 Harder 2004, 70, 77. 150 Gutzwiller 1998, 186, though Harder 2012, 1.23 n. 66 notes we cannot be sure how prominent the epigrammatic element was. 151 The unpublished dissertation of Lynn 1995 (on Aetia 1, 2, and Acontius and Cydippe) remains a helpful resource.

32

Greene

survey provides the most comprehensive overview, wherein she systematically categorizes the various types of narrators (e.g., primary, secondary; external, internal), narratives, and narratees in the Aetia and offers brief comments on frameworks, characterization, and narrative patterns.152 Morrison’s chapter on Callimachean narrators covers less ground but offers more focused consideration of the poet’s narrative strategies, which he understands as drawing on the practices of Archaic lyric, e.g., the quasi-biographical representation of the narrative voice and the narrative’s fostering of a sense of intimacy and exclusivity between narrator and audience.153 Other scholars tackle evaluating Callimachus’ narrative style and strategies from a variety of angles inspired by signal qualities of his poetry: its learnedness, generic affiliations, relationship to book culture, and its often-observed modernity or post-modernity. Although quite different, these studies cumulatively underscore the poet’s investment in creating a narrative – and inventing a narrative style  – that is self-consciously aware of itself as narrative and engages with readers as such. Erudition plays a central role in Schmitz’s piece on key qualities of Callimachus’ approach.154 Relying on the narratological principles of W.C. Booth, he understands the Aetia’s poetic narrator as seeking to lure readers into sympathy with him and his project, thus turning them into the poet’s “ideal readers”. Schmitz reads Callimachus’ characteristic brevity and cryptic descriptive style as serving critical rhetorical functions rather than just being elegant elaborations of his own learnedness. To understand the Aetia, readers must decode it. For example, recognizing that “from the land of Danaus, born from a cow, to Helen’s island and the Pallenean seer” (fr. 54.4-6) equals “from Nemea to Egypt” requires active reader engagement and investment. Schmitz maintains that for those who put in the work (and in so doing replicate the experience of the author’s own learnedness) understanding generates a sense of accomplishment and pride, which, in turn, impels readers toward becoming ideal readers in solidarity with the author. Indeed, the poem revolves around and thematizes the desire for and acquisition of knowledge.155 This fundamental quality undergirds Harder’s case for classifying the Aetia as a didactic poem in the Hesiodic tradition, albeit one that rethinks and undermines typical didactic narrative conventions to align

152 153 154 155

Harder 2004. Morrison 2007, 182–199. Schmitz 1999. So Hutchinson 2003.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

33

with Callimachus’ cultural context.156 The unreality of the Muses, the traditional guarantors of didactic truth, allows for allegorically reading them as representing Callimachus’ own mind or as representations of the texts from which he derives his information (see 1.3.1), thus chipping away at their didactic authority.157 Moreover, Harder interprets the narrator and the host of other storytellers (e.g., Theogenes the Ician, fr. 178; Simonides’ tomb, fr. 64; Berenice’s lock, fr. 110) as further destabilizing the conventional teacher-student dynamic by also serving as authorities. Particularly significant are the narrator’s elliptical style and references to other sources for answers that the poem itself does not provide. So, for example, the narrator cites the historian Xenomedes in a catalogue that highlights all the stories not told in the poem (fr. 75.53-74). Similarly, readers wanting to learn about Heracles’ defeat of the Nemean lion in the Victory of Berenice are met with “let him find out for himself and so reduce the poem’s length” (fr. 54h.1). Such moments serve, in Harder’s view, to activate readers to “use their own brains and other sources at their disposal,” certainly a real possibility in the context of contemporary Alexandria.158 Thus the poem rethinks didacticism and transforms the older model of imparting information onto a passive audience into a more dynamic process. Considering Callimachean narrative style from another perspective, Bruss offers insights related to the larger debate regarding textuality versus performance (see General Introduction) by analyzing internal narrative representations of orality and literacy.159 As he shows, the Aetia privileges traditional oral/aural modes of composition, transmission, and communication, as the narrative ego focuses upon listening and speaking, and even explicitly praises the value of oral communication (fr. 43.16-17) and casts himself as a performer (e.g. fr. 1.1-29; fr. 26.8). At the same time, however, the poet himself often self-consciously intrudes or in other ways juxtaposes the narrator’s determined pretense of orality with literary/textual indicators and semantic ambiguities (e.g., Xenomedes’ chronicle as text, the Graces “wiping their hands” on the poet’s elegy, fr. 7.13-14). In so doing, he “cracks the illusion of his oralist fiction.”160 Ultimately, Bruss suggests we understand the poem’s “dalli156 Harder 2007. Particularly important to her case is the catalogue form as reflecting “didactic plot” and the poem’s relationship to all three of the Hesiodic poems. Cf. Kaessar 2005, who argues for the poem’s didacticism from a social standpoint. Sider 2014 makes an attractive case for many Hellenistic poems to be considered didactic based upon a diachronic study; cf. Overduin 2018 and 2019b on didactic elegies (and below, 1.5). 157 Harder 2007, 38–39. 158 Harder 2007, 45. 159 Bruss 2004, with extensive bibliography. 160 Bruss 2004, 62.

34

Greene

ance with orality” as Callimachus purposefully and often playfully adopting the strategies and conceits of oral poetics to contextualize his role as poet within Greek tradition. However, whether he truly values orality over textuality (or vice versa) remains, for Bruss, ambiguous. Fictive pretenses, textualization, and the narrator’s intrusions are also central to Sistakou’s reading of the poem from the perspective of post-modern narrative theory, which recognizes these and other qualities as strategies aimed at disrupting the narrative so as to expose and meditate upon the poem’s own artificiality.161 She conceives of the narrator’s quasi-biographical representation of himself – particularly the emphasis on his various ages in the first few fragments – as constructing an autofictional narrative that repeats a single storyline throughout the poem: the acquisition of knowledge for the creation of poetry. In this, the “plot” of the Aetia is reflexive; it’s about telling stories but also about reflecting on their textualization.162 Callimachus highlights the storytelling process throughout, filling the poem with narrative authorities, like Simonides’ tomb, that have biased or limited points of view, thus creating a work at once polyphonic and multiperspectival. Oscillating and often ambiguous authorities, moments that lay bare the reflexive plot (such as the citation of Xenomedes), and a cryptic style that requires active decoding all render reader immersion impossible. Much the same is true, Sistakou continues, of the narrator’s regular infringement into his narrative and the many apostrophes that pepper the latter two books.163 Self-referentiality and metalepsis compel readers’ continued awareness that they are reading. These narrative features, Sistakou upholds, define the poem as one fundamentally concerned with the quality of its own existence, and her reading gives shape to and direction for new applications of contemporary strands of literary theory to this ancient – but still profoundly modern – poem. 1.3.4 Genre, Allusion, and Intertext The Aetia is a polygeneric poem. It abounds in moments that incorporate the tones, styles, structures, and characteristic language of other genres, moments that many scholars identify as instances of Kreuzung der Gattungen, “crossing genres” (see Introduction).164 Indeed, the framework’s didactic qualities, the narrator’s hymnic address to the Charites (fr. 7), the “epic” catalogue of Sicilian cities (fr. 43.28-55), and other such passages foster the impression of the poem 161 162 163 164

Sistakou 2019. Sistakou 2019, 332–334. See Klooster 2013 on Callimachus’ use of apostrophe. Harder 1998 is the principle survey of genres in the Aetia.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

35

not just as a poetic catalogue of local historical material, but as a catalogic exploration of the elegiac integration of other genres.165 At the same time, the poem’s deep intertextual engagement with and frequent allusions to a diverse assortment of earlier literature remain among Callimachean poetry’s most distinctive qualities. Evocations of the works of authors ranging from Homer to Plato to Sappho and many more appear throughout and have inspired much of modern scholarship’s focus on Callimachean poetry’s sophisticated relationship with its literary past.166 Allusions and intertexts also help us better understand Callimachus’ representations of himself and his poetry relative to his cultural present. For example, although most scholars no longer subscribe to the theory that the Prologue dramatizes Callimachus’ reputed “rivalry” with Apollonius Rhodius over the superiority of elegy or epic (see above, 1.3.2), the two poets’ dynamic relationship continues to be explored through the identification and examination of intertextual links and metapoetic dialogues in their works. Most recently, a special edition of Aevum Antiquum gathered an international group of experts on both Callimachus and Apollonius to provide updated perspectives on their interactions, particularly their positioning of themselves and their poetry relative to each other in key intertextual moments.167 Callimachus’ allusiveness and his treatment of genres thus provide critical insights into various aspects of his poetics and his conception of himself as a poet. In this section, I provide a taste of some ways that contemporary scholars approach and interpret Callimachus’ incorporation of other genres and other literary moments into the fabric of the Aetia. As we shall see, these interactions, while sometimes amusing, do not arise simply from a ludic delight in arbitrary combinations or clever allusions, but rather align with or advance his poetic vision for a given episode. Some passages adopt the guise of another genre in their entirety. The paradoxical “Tomb of Simonides” (fr. 64) unites form and poetic purpose. Written in the style of an inscribed funereal epigram, it addresses readers in the voice of the deceased, the archaic poet Simonides, who also wrote such verse epitaphs and whose style Callimachus seems to reflect.168 Readers, however, soon learn that the inscription has been destroyed (64.5) and that they 165 Compare Murray 2010, 114 on the Aetia as a catalogue of different types of archaic elegy. 166 Allusion and intertextuality in the Aetia have been exhaustively discussed; see, e.g., Cusset 1999; Harder 2002; Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2002; Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004, passim. 167 Barbantani 2019. Contributors include Acosta-Hughes, Clauss, Harder, Klooster, Murray, Nelson, Sbardella, and Stephens. 168 On this episode and the epigrammatic trend for composing other poets’ epitaphs, see the seminal discussion of Bing 1988, 56–70. Cf. Barbantani 1993, 3–11, 72–76; Acosta-Hughes

36

Greene

are impossibly reading an “inscribed” epigram that no longer exists.169 This strange episode seems to respond to Simonides’ own poetry and perspective. Harder observes that Simonides himself criticized stone as an impermanent medium (PMG 581.6) and claimed κλέος to be the true, imperishable ἐντάφιον (PMG 531).170 Simonides’ statements provide the basis for several interpretations which, given the loss of the scene’s conclusion, vary considerably beyond agreeing that the episode centers on notions of materiality and the permanence or impermanence of (poetic) memory. Among the proposals are suggestions that the scene: (1) ironically confirms PMG 581 by dramatizing the failure of the written word;171 (2) humorously depicts the dead Simonides finally realizing just how important inscribed tombs really are;172 (3) preserves the lost song through a new poet’s commemoration or impersonation of it;173 (4) represents Simonides, reputedly a “master of memory” (64.10), recalling in indirect speech his own epitaph.174 Without the ending, there can be no certainty, but fr. 64 nonetheless presents a significant example of Callimachus’ deliberate and poignant integration of marked forms and voices. We also often encounter brief moments that introduce material native to other types of literature to provide additional meaning. In the love story of “Acontius and Cydippe,” the narrator describes the girl’s epilepsy as the illness which “we send off to wild goats, and which we falsely call sacred” (fr. 75.14), a formulation that plays on the folk tradition of magically displacing the socalled “sacred disease” onto goats.175 Several scholars connect the line to the Hippocratic treatise On the Sacred Disease, which opens with a blistering polemic against the unlearned who insist on a divine, rather than a natural and scientific, cause for the affliction (1-5). The matter is deliciously complicated by the fact that, in the narrative, Artemis curses Cydippe with epilepsy, thus giving the girl’s condition an explicitly divine origin despite the narrator’s “informed” Hippocratic stance.176 On one level, the mythological repudiation of medical opinion is simply amusing. More seriously, as scholars show in various ways, the contradiction helps reveal Callimachus’ interest in (and

169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176

and Barbantani 2007, 429–445. On Callimachus’ rendering of Simonides’ style and voice, see Garulli 2007, 256–257; cf. Rawles 2018, 66–68. For the historical circumstances, see Massimilla 2006, with Massimilla 2010, 308–319. Harder 1998, 97–98. Bruss 2004, 62–64. Morrison 2013, 293–294, though he also allows for arguments like (3). Bing 1988, 67–69; Garulli 2007; Acosta-Hughes 2010, 177–178. Rawles 2018, 67–68. On the practice, see Massimilla 2010, 354–355. E.g., Nikitinski 1996, 134–135; Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004, 62–63; Asper 2009, 7–14; Lang 2009; Sistakou 2009b, 191, 196–197.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

37

sometimes ironic representation of) the relationship between scientific or rationalist aitia (λόγος) and traditional mythological or religious explanations (μύθος).177 Fr. 178, “The Ician,” presents a far more complex case of the interplay between different genres and allusions in a single scene. Here the narrator recalls an Alexandrian banquet, hosted by an Athenian ex-patriot in honor of an Attic Dionysian festival, which he attended with other guests from throughout the Greek world. Having discovered a like-minded companion in the Ician merchant Theogenes, who also despised excessive drinking, the narrator and his new friend shared aetiological stories. Given the setting, tone, quotations of Homer and proverbs, and the moralizing call for moderation, several scholars interpret the scene as reviving the tradition of archaic sympotic elegy, which also represents the symposium as a locus for learning new things.178 From this perspective, Callimachus taps into other generic resonances of his chosen meter in ways reflective of, and appropriate to, the context. Yet strewn throughout the passage is a constellation of allusions to Odyssean hospitality scenes (e.g., the Phaeacians, the Cyclops, disguised Odysseus on Ithaca), leading to such readings as Fantuzzi and Hunter’s, who understand Callimachus as an “Odysseus” who need not leave Alexandria to learn. After all, the world – i.e., foreigners or texts – travels to him.179 Still others have linked the scene to sympotic philosophical literature, which recently culminated in Acosta-Hughes’ and Stephens’ interpretation of its various allusions and intertexts with sympotic and related Platonic dialogues. Their analysis identifies fr. 178 as operating within the context of Callimachus’ ongoing affirmation of the power of poetry (above, 1.3.2), here staging a “Platonically acceptable drinking party” (complete with Homeric quotation) that indirectly responds to the Platonic devaluation of poets.180 While we certainly don’t need to accept every inter177 Lang 2009; Asper 2009, 11, 17; Sistakou 2009b, 191, 196–197. See Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004, 63 for another interpretation; in either case, compare to Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004, 56–57 on the issue of aetiological “truth.” 178 E.g., D’Alessio 2007 [1996], 555 n. 14; Dettori 2004, who reads the scene as reflecting changes in Hellenistic sympotic culture relative to the archaic period. On the symposium as a place for learning, see Kaesser 2005, 97; Massimilla 2014, 9–11. See Lelli 2011, 399–401 for the force of the proverbs and quotations. Note, as Harder 2002, 213, that the connection of the symposium to learning was hardly confined to archaic elegy. 179 Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004, 81–82, with discussion of other significant allusions. Harder 2002, 217 reads them programmatically, e.g., this banquet becomes a parallel to that of Alcinous and an “‘Odyssean’ story in a ‘Callimachean’ manner.” Cf Harder 2012, 2.953–990 for a collection of the Homeric allusions. 180 Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012, 68–78. Though see 144–145 on the narrator as an Odyssean figure.

38

Greene

pretation – though the above all have much to recommend them – the variety of supportable suggestions attests to Callimachus’ sophisticated, dynamic, and multi-leveled approach to engaging with earlier literature, an approach that rarely limits itself to a single, superficial reading. No example of Callimachean “genre-mixing” has commanded as much attention as his two elegiac epinicians, the independent piece for one Sosibius (fr. 384 Pf.) and the Victory of Berenice (fr. 54-60j) which begins Aetia 3,181 elegies which scholars have long understood as reflecting the Hellenistic literary assumption of “obsolete” lyric forms into stichic meters.182 Beginning with Fuhrer’s seminal monograph, scholars have spent thirty years tracking the elegies’ complex structural and intertextual engagement with and modifications to archaic, especially Pindaric, choral epinician in response to Ptolemaic political, social, and performative contexts.183 At the same time, there has been growing  – and now generally accepted  – appreciation for the influence exerted on the elegies by epigrams commemorating athletic victories.184 Existing alongside choral epinician in the archaic period and becoming even more popular in the Hellenistic age, the tradition of agonistic epigrams offers Callimachus a model of epinician already cast in elegiac verse, which we may understand as informing his choice of meter and thus tempering the boldness of his appropriation of Pindaric lyric forms.185 Yet we may also approach these elegies from angles other than Callimachus’ well-mapped intertextual relationships and questions of genre-mixing. 181 Likewise, the Victory of Berenice’s inset narrative of Heracles and Molorchus, a Hellenistic take on a traditional hospitality tale (here on the model of Eumaeus and Odysseus) also has been understood to “cross” genres in its affinities with hexametric epyllia (shorter, “anti-heroic” mythological narratives), on which see Ambühl 2004; Palmore 2016 offers a compelling argument for classifying it, despite its meter, as an epyllion. 182 Iambus 8 constitutes a third Callimachean epinician, though little survives, on which see Fuhrer 1992, 205–216; Kerkhecker 1999, 197–204. 183 Fuhrer 1992. Scholarship is considerable, and generally incorporates discussion of both epinician and encomiastic epigram. Critical studies include: Fuhrer 1993; Sevieri 1997; Harder 1998, 99–101; Barbantani 2001; Stephens 2002, 255–261; Barbantani 2012, 39–42; Kampakoglou 2013; Cazzadori 2016; Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2017, 229–234; Barbantani 2017, 347–349; Stephens 2019. Kampakoglou 2019, 19–72 provides the most detailed comparison since Fuhrer 1992. Recent studies all allow for performance, with most favoring some style of court performance, though Kampagoklou 2019 suggests other possible occasions. 184 This is particularly true since the discovery of the “new” Posidippus. See, e.g., Van Bremen 2007; Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2017; Barbantani 2017. Already Fuhrer 1993, 90–97. 185 On agonistic epigrams, see, e.g., Köhnken 2007; Barbantani 2012; Van Bremen 2007, with discussion of the influence of honorific inscriptions as well; cf. Stephens 2002, 259–261; 2019, 365 on Egyptian biographical inscriptions.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

39

Stephens’ recent contribution reorients the conversation to instead consider the poet’s reliance on Pindar for specific encomiastic strategies.186 As she discusses with regard to Victory of Berenice, the myth Callimachus selects to embed, his treatment of laudandus, and his presentation of themes all recall Pindar’s own decisions when praising the victor in Nemean 1, who, rather like Berenice, was in a precarious political and social position. In Stephens’ formulation, practical concerns  – e.g., how to effectively praise and represent the Cyrenean “outsider” Berenice as a Ptolemy without eclipsing other members of the family  – also fuels Callimachus’ engagement with his model. In this case, the integration of lyric conventions and material into elegiac verse moves beyond formal echoes and intertextual engagement for the purpose of literary effect. Rather, as Stephens concludes, “Callimachus’ elegiac epinicians aren’t just exercises in ‘crossing genres,’ but rather represent the ongoing process of generic evolution and ‘selective adaptation’ in light of the demands of a given occasion.”187 1.3.5 Geography, Politics, and Context The Aetia confronts readers with a poem of global scope but local perspective and material. Callimachus’ “antiquarian” subject matter, much of it seemingly far removed from Alexandria, can be interpreted as reflecting the theory of Hellenistic cultural rupture that resulted from the massive political and cultural changes following Alexander’s conquests, as discussed in the Introduction. From this perspective, the stories of local cult traditions are just that to Callimachus – stories of the past to be read, not personally experienced in their original forms. This rift between past and present has seemed to many scholars to resonate throughout the Aetia.188 For example, we may read the banquet scene (fr. 178) discussed above, wherein Callimachus stages a Greek immigrant’s memorialization of his native Athenian cult practices for a group of ethnically heterogeneous guests, as emphasizing the Alexandrian alienation – geographically, temporally, and culturally – from the world to which those practices belong.189 However, some scholars have come to view this scene  – and the Aetia in general  – as not so much reflecting cultural rift as offering a more unifying 186 Stephens 2019. Compare the approach of Morrison 2007 to Hellenistic poets’ use of lyric rhetorical strategies. 187 Stephens 2019, 366. 188 E.g., Bing 1988, 70–75; Zanker 1987, 1–37. 189 See Selden 1998, 289–306 for an effective portrait of Alexandria as a locus of cultural and civic estrangement for its heterogeneous population, along with, throughout, fundamental discussion of Callimachus’ poetry as a poetry of diaspora.

40

Greene

vision of the present and the framework for a new notion of Hellenic identity.190 The suspicion that Callimachus does not randomly select the locations or the local myths upon which he focuses has led to studies of the Aetia in terms of its representations of geographical movement, conceptions of space, and the political significance of its settings – its geopoetics.191 Asper, whose recent discussion of Callimachean geopoetics tracks the geographical and temporal movements of the poem, highlights the Panhellenic impact of its broad scope but local focus: … the reader [of the Aetia] rediscovers all the different parts of Greece…. Every Greek in Egypt could probably find some story here relating to that part of the old world where his family came from. Moreover, he would have experienced his family’s origins as being juxtaposed and connected to other parts of old-time Greece in ways he had never thought of. For such readers, the thrill of reading Callimachus might have in a sense consisted of transportation to places that were part of Greek cultural memory.192 Asper consequently views the banquet scene, wherein the guests share aetiological stories from their homelands, as reflecting contemporary geographic diversity to ultimately celebrate ethnic unity.193 The juxtaposition of various local stories to which Asper refers draws on the poem’s much-discussed use of narrative doublets, tales with similar themes that are set in different times and places, such as the love stories of Acontius and Cydippe (frr. 67–75e) and Phrygius and Pieria (frr. 80–83b).194 In their recent study of the Aetia’s geopoetics, Acosta-Hughes and Stephens stress the role played by explicit and implied narrative doublets in reflecting and promoting cultural connections: 190 Asper 2001; Harder 2010, 97–98; Asper 2011; Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012, 148–203; Asper 2011; Harder 2014. 191 An approach introduced to classicists principally by Barchiesi’s 2001 Gray Lectures, on which see Asper 2011, 156 n. 2. 192 Asper 2011, 167. 193 Asper 2011, 170. See, however, Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004, 51 who voice brief concerns with regard to Asper 2001: “… we should be wary of seeking grand explanations for the aetiological mode in terms of a desire to compensate for an alleged sense of deracination felt by the Alexandrian Greeks, through the forging of close links between the past and the observable present.” 194 For a review of the similarities, see Harder 2012, 2.672–674. Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012, 174–175 collect several additional doublets.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

41

Most obviously, parallel tales preserve the memory of distinctive regional practices. But they also bind these distinctive practices together by staging them (especially the odd or anomalous) not as unique but as part of a behavioral continuum that can be found throughout the broad empire of the Ptolemies. The continuum operates both temporally, to link the past and the present, and geographically to link diverse peoples …195 Above all, however, they argue that Callimachus crafts a sense of cultural continuity and interconnectedness through his construction and deployment of multiple geographical and mythological frameworks that operate throughout the entire poem. Acosta-Hughes and Stephens’ detailed “map” of the Aetia’s narrative and spatial movements reveals a nexus of frames defined by mythological figures (e.g., Heracles, Minos, and the Danaids) or by places (e.g., Argos, Cyrene, and Athens) that spirals throughout the poem to link seemingly unconnected and randomly-organized local narratives together into a vast Panhellenic network.196 At the center of this great web, as several scholars observe, lies the new city Alexandria, to which Greeks  – and all their stories about their pasts  – now migrate, and the fixed vantage point from which Callimachus surveys and creates his Greek cultural history.197 And indeed, that cultural history is, at least in part, determined by Alexandrian interests. Many of the local stories Callimachus elects to share feature locations relevant to Egypt, especially to Ptolemaic imperial ideology and self-fashioning. So, for instance, scholars interpret stories linked through the Argive Danaids as serving to reflect Argos’ primeval associations with Egypt and the Ptolemies’ claimed ancestral connections to that family, effectively rooting and naturalizing both Egypt and her new monarchs in the ancient Greek past.198 Contemporary political relevance also informs Callimachus’ selection of settings, as has long been observed.199 Asper remarks that Callimachus repeatedly returns to multiple zones – e.g., 195 Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012, 175. 196 Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012, 170–196. 197 E.g., Asper 2011, 172–173; Harder 2014, 265–267. Asper 2011, 173; Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012, esp. 202. 198 A feature observed by others but most fully contextualized in Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012, 170–196; see Stephens 2002 and 2011 for further connections. Cf. Sistakou 2009, 240–241, who offers an interesting comparison of Hesiodic genealogy’s relationship with archaic political geography in the Catalogue and Callimachus’ own political project. Compare, e.g., Mori 2008 and Thalmann 2011 on similar dynamics in the Argonautica. 199 See commentaries for individual episodes and considerable scholarship on the connections; Asper 2011 and Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012 focus upon many of them. Cf. Harder 2003, 296.

42

Greene

Athens, Ceos, Illyria – that were of political interest during the Ptolemies’ ongoing diplomatic and military struggles against the Antigonids and Seleucids. Perhaps, he concludes, Callimachus focuses on these areas not only to reflect his patrons’ concerns but also to address the contemporary political interests of his readers.200 Aside from Callimachus’ geopoetics and his perspective on issues of cultural identity and unity, considerable attention has also been paid to his role as a court poet and to his representations of the Ptolemies as both Greek and Egyptian rulers.201 Groundbreaking analyses produced in the last few decades incorporate cross-cultural and inter-cultural approaches so as to ascertain how poets living under the new empire comprehend and communicate native Egyptian imagery, religious thought, and especially the pharaonic ideology upon which the Ptolemies’ own model of kingship in part relies.202 The Lock of Berenice (fr. 110) has been of central interest. Here scholars identify the presence of a variety of Egyptian elements, from Callimachus’ concentrated effort to depict Berenice as Isis, the model of Egyptian queens and the guarantor of world order,203 to seemingly incidental details that speak to greater concerns. The ointment used to anoint the lock (110.93-94a), for example, has been read as having Egyptian iconographic resonance that symbolizes its divine status and thus anticipates Berenice’s own apotheosis.204 Those engaged in these studies maintain that, by incorporating such elements into the scene of the lock’s catasterism, Callimachus both reflects the duality inherent in Ptolemaic kingship  – they are at once Hellenistic monarchs and Egyptian pharaohs  – and addresses multiple audiences which have varying degrees of familiarity with Egyptian thought and ideology.205 Currently, scholars continue to explore Callimachus’ reflection of the Ptolemies’ and Alexandria’s complex

200 Asper 2011, 160. 201 Weber 2011, Strootman 2010, and Strootman 2017 provide overviews of Hellenistic royal courts. 202 These include: Merkelbach 1981; Koenen 1983 and 1993; Bing 1988; Selden 1998; Stephens 2003. Stephens 2002 and 2011 particularly focus on the Aetia. 203 Selden 1998, esp. 337–353 on Berenice/Isis. 204 Stephens 2003, 154–155. 205 Stephens 2003 offers the most comprehensive treatment. On the tricky subject of dual audiences, see also Dieleman and Moyer 2011. For criticism of such intercultural poetics, see Zanker 1987, 91–99, who argues for the staunch “Greekness” of the Alexandrian elite. Hunter 2003, 46–53 gives a circumspect appraisal. Compare Asper 2011, 176, who observes that, while these studies have convincing results, “the practice, however, seems to have been on the one hand quite restricted; on the other hand, we see a desire on the part of the poets to keep their passages understandable in purely Greek terms.”

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

43

heterogeneous heritage and contemporary reality, stressing that the “Greek perspective” is now not always the only perspective.206 1.3.6 Roman Epilogue Although testimonia assure that Philitas and Parthenius served as significant models for later Roman poets, the scarcity of surviving elegiac fragments renders comparison often reliant on a considerable dose of speculation. With Callimachus, on the other hand, enough of the Aetia survives to help us trace the profound influence he exerted over Latin poetics. Studies on this topic lie beyond the limits of the present work; however, those interested should begin by consulting Richard Hunter’s Shadow of Callimachus, as well as Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004, 444–485; Clauss 2010; Barchiesi 2011; and Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012, 204–269. 1.4 “Local” Elegy Local history and lore pervade Hellenistic poetry, as we’ve seen most obviously in the Aetia, whose focus upon “the local” has become central in discussions regarding the poem’s reflection and creation of cultural identity (section 1.3.5). It is far trickier, however, to ascertain how most other elegies address and frame local material. Phanocles certainly seems to have had an interest in local history and, judging by places mentioned in their fragments, Hermesianax and Antimachus may have as well. Yet these are not our only examples. In this section, I consider contemporary research on two famous but barely-preserved narrative elegies, Demeter and Erigone, that scholars suspect boasted local dimensions, and a better-preserved inscribed elegy, “The Pride of Halicarnassus,” which offers an instructive example of the poetic application of local lore so as to characterize a city’s relationship to its past. Ranked second of the Hellenistic elegists (after Callimachus) by Quintilian (Inst. Or. 10.158), the scholar and poet Philitas of Cos (born ca. 340) provides a model of learning married to art. The teacher of several illustrious pupils – including the young Ptolemy II Philadelphus – Philitas is painted by ancient testimonia as an early Hellenistic cultural luminary, whose poetry would go on to influence not only Theocritus but also Callimachus (e.g. Aet. fr. 1.9-12) and a host of Roman poets.207 Unfortunately, when it comes to his great elegy 206 Cf., e.g., Llewellyn-Jones and Winder 2010 for Berenice’s linking of herself to Hathor; Prioux 2011 on Ptolemaic queens; Visscher 2017 on Seleucid/Ptolemaic elements in the Lock of Berenice; Clauss 2019 on Callimachus’ appropriation of Near Eastern-style wordplay. 207 See the biographical essay of Sbardella 2000, 2–16. Of particular interest has been the possibility that Philitas sought heroic honors in a lost programmatic passage, that there

44

Greene

Demeter, we have little more than ancient testimonia. The poem seems to have reflected the Hellenistic fashion for mythological narratives of shorter length and narrower scope than Homeric epics, and almost certainly offered an erudite and sophisticated reworking of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter.208 Scholars generally agree that Demeter retold the goddess’ search for Persephone and included a narrative regarding her apparently warm reception by the Meropids on Cos, Philitas’ homeland, perhaps thus staging the aition for the island’s wellattested cult of Demeter.209 Details beyond these, however, remain disputed, as can be seen most effectively in the shape of the poem according to the various editions. Powell firmly assigns to Demeter only four fragments, all consolatory or lamenting in tone and none with local details. Lightfoot admits five, while Sbardella assigns seven, and Spanoudakis accepts seventeen.210 Spanoudakis’ reconstruction of the Demeter thus includes a considerable amount of material, much of which he relates to local descriptions and legends, that is absent from the more conservative editions.211 Given Philitas’ erudition, especially his interest in idiosyncratic word usages, regional dialects, and local trivia,212 scholars generally suspect that a fair bit of that learning manifested in the poem in the

208 209

210 211

212

may have existed a cult of Philitas on Cos, or, as Hardie 1997 discusses, that Philitas was connected with a gymnasium/mousieon on Cos that existed under the auspices of the Ptolemies. On these possibilities, see also, e.g., La Penna 1988; Hollis 1996; Spanoudakis 2002, 34–40. Hunter 1996, 18. Sbardella 2000 and Spanoudakis 2002 both assign the technically unattributed Schol. Theocr. Id. 7.5-9k (fr. 6 Spanoudakis = fr. 11 Sbardella) to Demeter. Lightfoot 2009 thinks the placement a good possibility but leaves it among those of uncertain position. The scholiast refers to the local story behind the creation of the Burina fountain on Cos, which is evoked again in Theocritus Idyll 7, along with praise of Philitas by name, and so serves as a fundamental piece of evidence in the long-standing debate regarding Philitas’ possible influence on the development of bucolic. Considerable scholarship has been devoted to the issue, though the debate seems destined to remain unsettled barring further evidence. Recent studies on this topic and Theocritus’ relationship to Philitas include: Bowie 1985; Gutzwiller 1991; Knox 1993; Fantuzzi 1993b; Hunter 1996, 18–28. Manakidou 2012 offers a fresh perspective that focuses upon other evidence (mainly Philitas’ glossographical fragments) to further explore Theocritus’ debt to Philitas apart from questions of his influence on the bucolic form. Powell (= CA) 1925; Sbardella 2000; Spanoudakis 2002; Lightfoot 2009. Spanoudakis 2002, 223–243. Contrast Sbardella 2000, 44–49 (to be read with 28–37), who treats the theory of a hexametric poem related to the island (to which some of the fragments assigned to Demeter by Spanoudakis may belong). On this poem, see La Penna 1988, 318–320 and contrast Spanoudakis 2002, 238. As evidenced by the fragments of his scholarship, which are largely from his Miscellaneous Glosses, for which see Dettori 2000. Cf. Bing 2003.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

45

form of aetiologies and other local details – Cos is his homeland, after all – but beyond that our evidence remains inconclusive. Much the same is true of the barely-preserved Erigone of the Alexandrian head librarian, polymath, and one-time student of Callimachus, Eratosthenes of Cyrene (ca. 276–ca. 194); Rosokoki provides as thorough a commentary as possible on the six short fragments.213 Hyginus’ version (Fab. 130, with Astr. 2.2-4), which most believe draws on the poem to some degree, records that Erigone’s father Icarius was murdered by peasants because they believed he was attempting to poison them with the wine Dionysus had just taught Icarius to make in thanks for his hospitality.214 After her dog led Erigone to the body, she hung herself, and ultimately she, her father, and their dog were catasterized. From this summary, scholars typically assume that Eratosthenes treated several local and more global aitia, including the origins of wine, of the Dionysian Attic festival the Aiora (held in Erigone’s honor and part of the Anthesteria),215 and of the constellations Virgo, Boötes, and Canis Minor. Such topics would be unsurprising in the poem of a reputed student of Callimachus, who likewise refers to the same story (Aet. 178.3-4). The likelihood of Erigone’s engagement with Attic lore is compounded by Eratosthenes’ long sojourn there during his studies.216 Other than a possible and much-contested gesture to the Attic origins of tragedy (fr. 4 Rosokoki),217 however, the fragments are unhelpful. Nonetheless, we may note that Athens occupied a critical position in the Ptolemies’ political maneuverings against the Antigonids throughout the third century. Asper suggests that political interests and the taste of Alexandrian audiences for stories about a place of contemporary significance may help explain Eratosthenes’ choice to focus on a topic that allowed for the exploration of Attic pre-history and topography.218 We can say much more about the final poem in this section. Isager’s 1998 publication of the first edition of the so-called “Pride of Halicarnassus” or “Salmakis Inscription” (hereafter Pride) introduced a newly-discovered work of sixty lines that straddles the boundary between inscribed epigram and 213 Rosokoki 1995. Frr. 1–6 Rosokoki = CA frr. 24, 25, 26, 22, 23, 36; dubia 1–4 Rosokoki = CA frr. 32, 33, 31, 27 Powell. Cf. Geus 2002, 100–109. 214 Rosokoki 1995, 60–75. See Rosokoki 1995, 99–105 and Hollis 2009, 345–347 on how this version of the “hospitality” theme may relate to the Hecale. 215 For the festivals, see Rosokoki 1995, 109–122; Massimilla 1996, 402–405; Harder 2002, 2.958–964. 216 On which see Geus 2002, esp. 18–26. 217 See most recently Broggiato 2014, with discussion of the various readings and an argument for understanding fr. 4 as a reference to contemporary Alexandrian debates regarding dramatic origins. 218 Asper 2011, 157–158, who notes the same for Callimachus’ Hecale.

46

Greene

elegiac poem and also provides a radically different perspective of Hellenistic “local” elegy. The inscription, found well-preserved in situ at the promontory Kaplan Kalessi (Salmakis) in Bodrum, was carved by a professional hand and mounted on a wall near the harbor in the later second century BCE.219 A flurry of scholarly interest immediately descended upon the poem, with several studies, as well as an edited volume, following closely upon the heels of the editio princeps.220 The poem begins with the narrative voice asking Aphrodite “what is so honorable about Halicarnassus? I, for my part, have never heard of it. What is she (= the city) so proudly boasting of?” In the remaining fifty-six lines, the goddess responds, first disclosing a doubly-surprising reason for the gods’ goodwill. Here we learn not only of an exceptional tradition for Halicarnassian (= non-Greek Carian) autochthony but also of a local tradition that places the birth of Zeus in the area, who as an infant was saved by the native inhabitants from Cronos (5-10). Their rewards for this deed take up much of the rest of the elegy, beginning with a tale of Salmacis and Hermaphroditus that casts them as civilizing forces through their invention of marriage.221 Next comes a succession of narratives about the arrival of various mythological figures (e.g., Bellerophon, the Cecropidae) in colonizing (ktisis) stories that advertise the city’s prominence in key Hellenic civilizing moments. The narrator then lists the famous authors and poets (e.g., Herodotus, Panyassis) whom the city has nurtured,222 before a final summary and iteration of Halicarnassus’ blessed position.223 Although its inscriptional form positions the poem as an epigram, scholars have been drawn to Pride’s patterning of conventions linked to multiple genres onto its epigrammatic base, which renders it something of a generic hybrid. D’Alessio draws attention to its affinities with elite elegiac poetry, especially its metrical similarities to the proem of Meleager’s Garland, and its echoes of moments in Aetia 3 and 4 which feature the epigrammatic device of a dialogue with an unnamed/inanimate interlocutor and an addressee (e.g., fr. 76).224 The 219 Isager 1998. Pedersen 2004 and Poulson 2004 provide a comprehensive overview of the site. 220 Isager and Pedersen 2004; further bibliography is provided by Romano 2009. The most thorough commentaries are those of Isager 1998 and Lloyd-Jones 1999. Shorter critical editions/commentaries are provided by Merkelbach and Stauber 1998, 33–44 and Sider 2017b. 221 Pride’s treatment differs considerably from the more famous version at Ov. Met. 4.285– 388; see Sourvinou-Inwood 2004 and Romano 2009. 222 See Romano 2009 on nurturing and taming as themes throughout the poem. 223 Summary based upon Isager 1998 and Lloyd-Jones 1999. 224 D’Alessio 2004. Cf. Lloyd Jones 1999, who, like Isager 1998, identifies resonances with Meleager, Callimachus, and others that are further developed by D’Alessio.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

47

inscription’s sequencing of myths, moreover, resembles Callimachus’ catalogue of Cean history (Aet. fr. 75).225 Similarly, the list of famous Halicarnassians recalls the possible third-century vogue for elegiac catalogues of literary figures, as we see in Hermesianax fr. 7 and likely Alexander Aetolus’ Muses, as well as epigram series on famous poets.226 Jenson, on the other hand, finds resonances with Homer and Hesiod, and Sider likewise observes some similarities in the opening address to epic convention.227 At the same time, other scholars highlight that the opening, the poem’s formulation of praise, and its central sequence of myth recall hymnic standards.228 Another strand of scholarship centers on issues regarding its selective engagement with the city’s past. The claim to Carian autochthony has led to a dispute about the ways the poem may (or may not) represent both Greek and Carian ethnic identities. Some, like Lloyd-Jones, see Pride as an assertion of a particularly Greek identity with no interest in indigenous ethnicity,229 while others hold that the initial centrality of what amounts to non-Greek autochthony advances the Halicarnassians’ mixed cultural background as a critical reason for their pride.230 Gagné’s reading offers a sensitive argument for a middle ground wherein the poem’s phrasing neither excludes Carian identity nor blatantly broadcasts it. Instead, in his formulation, Pride allows for different readings of the dual ethnic affinities of Halicarnassian cultural identity depending upon various audiences’ pre-existing knowledge, in much the same way as Alexandrian poetry for the Ptolemies admitted native Egyptian elements.231 The poem’s situation of the city relative to the rest of the Mediterranean world is also striking. Both its representation of a stream of mythological outsiders coming to Halicarnassus and its use of “local” versions of critical Panhellenic stories, especially the birth of Zeus, can be read as subordinating the larger geographical and historical framework to the local one. In this interpretation, Halicarnassian local history becomes itself the new center of 225 D’Alessio 2004, 43–46. 226 D’Alessio 2004, 48–49, who notes connections to other authors as well. Cf. Bing 1988, 58–65 and Barbantani 1993, 3–11 on epigrams and epigram series about authors. 227 Jensen 2004; Sider 2017b, 33. 228 Isager 1998, 20; Romano 2009, 549. 229 Lloyd-Jones 1999, 13 n. 2. 230 Isager 2004, 12 outlines the various responses of contributors to the edited volume, which are generally divided between the two sides. See Isager 1998, 21–22 and Lloyd-Jones 1999, 5 for possible iconographic links between the story and the frieze on the temple of Hecate at Lagina. 231 Gagné 2006, with reference to Stephens 2002.

48

Greene

Hellenic history.232 With regard to this point, the inscription’s physical location by the harbor and intended readership become paramount issues. Romano stresses that its location and tone – the initial narrator is emphatically not a Halicarnassian  – indicate that the poem’s expression of civic identity is not principally aimed at the Halicarnassians themselves, but at visitors who have been drawn to the city just like the many mythological figures in the sequence. Thus Pride effectively serves as “local” history designed for Panhellenic consumption.233 We may observe the contrast to the Aetia, which, as some argue, strings together local narratives that speak to readers throughout the Greek world (1.3.5). Whereas that poem may use “the local” to create a cumulative sense of inclusivity, Pride emphasizes the exclusivity of one city’s position. 1.5 Elegiac Philosophy and Science Callimachus’ engagement with intellectual traditions and philosophical texts has been a topic of interest for decades,234 and studies like that of Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012, which reads key scenes of the Aetia against Platonic dialogues (1.3.2, 1.3.4), guarantee that the poet’s dealings with philosophy will remain significant points in our evaluations of his poetry. Meanwhile, Callimachus has also benefitted from the revived critical interest in the relationships between poetry and scientific fields.235 Although we tend to associate “scientific poetry” with the didactic hexameters of Aratus and Nicander, and now also Posidippus’ epigrams (e.g., the Iamatika on miraculous cures),236 the contributions of Asper, Prioux, and Sistakou to the Groningen Conference on “Nature and Science in Hellenistic Poetry” underscore Callimachus’ thoughtful poetic responses to scientific topics (see 1.3.4 for an example).237 But when it comes to incorporating philosophical and scientific material into narrative and catalogue elegy, Callimachus seems to cut a rather lonely figure. We may ascribe this, at least in part, to the state of our evidence. Certainly, Nicander likely collected lore about serpents and set it in elegiacs for his Ophiaca, though the paucity of fragments prevents us from saying much

232 Stevens 2016, 74. Cf. Romano 2009, esp. 550 on the cosmogonic centrality of Halicarnassus in the poem. 233 See Romano 2009 for remarks on the nature and definition of “the local.” 234 E.g., Hunter 1989; Depew 1992; White 1994; Williams 1995; Hunter 1997; Kerkhecker 1999; Acosta-Hughes 2002 and 2016; Cuypers 2004; Faulkner 2011. 235 For the growing popularity of science and poetry, we need only note Cusset 2006 and Harder, Regtuit, and Wakker 2009. 236 See, e.g., Bing 2004; Wickkiser 2013. 237 Harder, Regtuit, and Wakker 2009.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

49

more.238 Eratosthenes may offer another example. Given his professional and scientific interests, scholars have long regarded the Erigone as likely including significant interaction with Platonic ideas, particularly Platonic theories of the soul and celestial bodies as articulated by the Timaeus.239 While we have evidence of some specific points of contact (e.g., fr. 2 Rosokoki refers to Plato’s hypothesis that wine travels through the lungs, Tim. 91a),240 we can say little more about Eratosthenes’ incorporation of Platonic theory into the narrative fabric of Erigone without wandering into the realm of speculation, as Geus concludes.241 If we move beyond the typical ambit of post-classical elegy, however, we find several poems addressing matters of philosophy, mathematics, and science that have traditionally been of interest only to scholars in those fields. The modest but growing body of recent literary-critical research on these often marginalized works not only offers fresh perspectives on their poetic qualities but also emphasizes their relationships with the larger Hellenistic elegiac and Greek literary traditions. Noussia-Fantuzzi draws attention to the 12-line elegy (SH 359) of the Cynic philosopher Crates (ca. 368/5–ca. 288/5), who also composed hexametric poetry in the satiric tradition that targeted Homer, among others (e.g. SH 347).242 SH 359 constitutes an obvious parody of the prooimion to Solon’s own elegiac Hymn to the Muses (fr. 1 G.-P. = fr. 13 W), as signaled by Crates’ direct repetition of its first two lines.243 As Noussia-Fantuzzi discusses in her recent analyses of the poem, part of the poem’s humor and philosophical poignancy rely on Crates’ Cynical modifications to Solon’s archaic aristocratic definition of virtuous prosperity. Whereas Solon prays for such things as 238 Two fragments remain, 31 and 32 GS, both of which recall anecdotes (one mythological, one likely from a local tradition) regarding snakes. See Overduin 2015, 537 for brief remarks on the Ophiaca’s connections to Nicander’s Theriaca, and below on its relationship to pharmacological elegies. Cf. Lightfoot 1999, 20–22 for an overview of Nicander’s poetry within the literary context of the Hellenistic period. 239 Rosokoki 1995 discusses the history of various theories about Erigone’s content; Geus 2002, 109 provides a brief evaluation. In the twentieth century, scholars’ assumptions regarding its content led to ingenious and influential, but not unproblematic, studies and reconstructions, e.g. Solmsen 1947. 240 Rosokoki 1995, ad loc; Geus 2002, 105–106. 241 Geus 2002, 109; cf. the remarks of Hopkinson 1997. 242 Noussia-Fantuzzi 2017 provides the Greek with brief commentary. See Faraone 2008, 126 for tentative remarks on Crates’ stanzaic architecture and six-couplet structure as it relates to Xenophanes’ elegies. On Crates’ life and general philosophy, see Desmond 2008, 24–27. 243 On Solon’s elegy, see Noussia-Fantuzzi 2010, 141–202.

50

Greene

“good reputation,” “justly-acquired wealth,” and “to be agreeable” to his friends (fr. 13.3-5), Crates challenges these traditional ideas of prosperity by instead asking for food, to be “useful rather than agreeable,” and for only the “wealth of the dung beetle and substance of the ant” (5-7).244 The cleverness of this riposte to Solon is compounded by its historical performative associations. Here, Noussia-Fantuzzi shows, Crates evokes the sympotic game of “correcting” famous poems through extempore re-composition (“capping”), ironically rendering Solon a victim of the practice in which we know he himself indulged (fr. 26 G.-P. = 20 W).245 However, Crates’ revision of Solonian values to align with Cynical doctrines doubly engages with archaic models. Noussia-Fantuzzi highlights marked terms and images drawn from the iambic verses of Solon’s polar opposite, Hipponax, the outspoken social critic who regularly bemoans his poverty. Just as Crates juxtaposes his philosophical values with those of Solon, so also does he effect a sharp contrast between the baser desires of the Hipponactean persona and his own more profound and virtuous concerns.246 In Noussia-Fantuzzi’s estimation, this literary allusion further refines Crates’ philosophical position. The Pyrrhonist Skeptic philosopher Timon of Phlius, a slightly older contemporary of Callimachus, also composed a philosophical elegy which, though quite different from Crates’, still engages in critical ways with the poetic traditions.247 Although Timon is more famous for his hexametric Silloi, four fragments survive of his elegiac Indalmoi (“Images”), which stages the poetic narrator’s meeting with Pyrrho, the founder of Skepticism (SH 841–844). In the past, the poem has been of only ancillary interest to scholars of Hellenistic philosophy, but Clayman’s new study emphasizes its literary dimensions.248 Her logical reordering of the fragments reforms the opening sequence by placing the narrator’s (“Timon”) address to Pyrrho first:249 ἦ γὰρ ἐγὼν ἐρέω, ὥς μοι καταφαίνεται εἶναι, μῦθον, ἀληθείης ὀρθὸν ἔχων κανόνα, 244 Noussia 2007; cf. Noussia-Fantuzzi 2010, 139–140. 245 Noussia-Fantuzzi 2017, 270. On the practice of “capping” see Collins 2004, ix–x and passim. 246 Noussia 2007, with final discussion of possible links with Plato’s Phaedro. 247 Though see Long 1978, 74–77 on Crates’ influence on Timon. 248 Clayman 2009, 58–74. 249 Clayman 2009, 58–59. Historically this fragment was thought to be spoken by Pyrrho as part of a response to SH 841, wherein the narrator asks Pyrrho how he achieved his nearly divine tranquility. Bett 2000, 99–101 assigns both fragments to Timon as speaker, as Clayman does, but does not change the order.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

51

ὡς ἡ τοῦ θείου τε φύσις καὶ τἀγαθοῦ αἰεί, ἐξ ὧν ἰσότατος γίνεται ἀνδρὶ βίος For I will give an account, as it is evident to me to be, I who have a straight canon of truth, how the nature of the divine and of the good is always the source of the most equable life for a man …250 (SH 842) The lines have long been thought to recall the opening of Parmenides’ Aletheia (“For I will speak, and when you have heard my tale, take it with you,” DK 28 B 2.1). The phrase “straight canon of truth,” however, has exercised scholars, as such a concept flies in the face of the core tenet of Skepticism.251 Clayman suggests a compelling solution, showing that the phrase instead evokes the Hellenistic literary-critical idea of “canon” as used in reference to a skilled craftsman’s exacting replication of reality in statuary, as we see in Posidippus’ repetition of ἀληθείης ὀρθὸν ἔχων κανόνα in his epigram on the statue of Philitas (AB 63).252 Thus Timon’s “straight canon of truth” has nothing to do with philosophy, Clayman maintains, but describes in literary-critical terms how Timon writes, “measuring meter and words carefully, and mining older texts for words and phrases which he will join seamlessly in a new creation, making it all seem real.”253 Such creation of reality and its association with statuary complements Brunschwig’s analysis of SH 842’s complicated relationship with the line from Odyssey 19 which gives the poem its title: αὐτάρ τοι ἐρέω, ὥς μοι ἰνδάλλεται ἦτορ (“I will tell you as my heart pictures him,” Od. 19.224).254 In this moment, Odysseus, disguised as Aethon, pretends to recall for Penelope what Odysseus looked like when they “met” long ago. Here Odysseus is both subject and object of words that describe himself, but that are put into the mouth of “another,” that is, his assumed identity “Aethon”.255 Brunschwig posits that the title and allusion imply that Timon will provide “images” of Pyrrho, just as “Aethon” did of Odysseus. In this reading, the Indalmoi is not about Skeptical doctrine per

250 Text and translation (adapted) by Clayman 2009, 58. 251 See Striker 1996, 31–33; Svavarsson 2002. 252 Clayman 2009, 62–64; cf. Gutzwiller 2003, 47–49 on the artistic and literary-critical aspects of the phrase. 253 Clayman 2009, 66. 254 Brunschwig 1994, 212–223, with extensive bibliography. 255 Brunschwig 1994, 220; cf. Clayman 2009, 60.

52

Greene

se, but about Pyrrho – images of Pyrrho – perhaps exemplary models of the disposition he so advocated.256 Building on Brunschwig, Clayman’s extended discussion of the fragments ultimately leads her to propose that the Indalmoi was a collection of versified chreia, instructive anecdotes, about Pyrrho, perhaps on the general model of Lyde.257 A collection would coincide with the early third-century vogue for catalogue poetry and, if Clayman is correct, suggests interesting possible intersections with the Aetia: both are elegies in the didactic tradition,258 both feature meetings with authoritative figures able to give knowledge to an already learned narrator, and both take the typical elegiac catalogue poem in new directions. Turning to the surprising companions of mathematics and poetry, Netz’s 2009 Ludic Proof offers a groundbreaking analysis of the stylistic and aesthetic values shared by both Hellenistic poetry and mathematical treatises. Throughout Netz makes the case that writers in the Hellenistic period, be they poets or mathematicians, favor similar structures and concerns, including a focus on amazing size (the very large and the very small),259 regular reliance on narrative surprise, and an interest in exploring and redefining generic boundaries.260 More specifically for our purposes, however, Netz also reminds us that the great Archimedes (ca. 287–ca. 212 BCE) was also a poet. His Cattle Problem (SH 201 = CP), a 44-line “literary hybrid” in elegiac distichs, engages considerably with the Odyssey and presents an impossible task – to calculate the number of cows in Helios’ herd.261 Readers are treated to such lines as “But consider: that the black cows equal a quarter share and fifth of the manycolored cow, and the whole of the brown besides. Observe how the remaining dappled bulls equal a sixth and a seventh share of the white bulls” (11-15).262 Although such a work may seem far from literary, Netz’s brief but evocative discussion of its riddling aesthetics serves as the springboard for the wide-ranging 256 Brunschwig 1994, 221, who pushes the reading further to understand Timon as Pyrrho’s alter ego, just as Aethon was Odysseus’. 257 Clayman 2009, 72–74. 258 Harder 2011, 180 and Sider 2014, 29 classify it among didactic poems without specific discussion. 259 On this element of Hellenistic aesthetics and its relationship to poetry, see also Priestley 2014, 99–104 and Porter 2011, 271–312. 260 Netz 2009, esp. 210–212, where he identifies these aesthetic values in the Aetia. 261 Netz 2009, 136. Text and short commentary provided by Sider 2017c. Archimedes’ authorship has been disputed; Benson 2014, 171–172 provides an overview and arguments for attribution. 262 Sider 2017c does the math; the smallest possible solution is 206.545 digits long.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

53

literary studies of Benson and Leventhal, whose discussions of CP’s generic affinities and models are especially instructive. The poem’s reliance on Homer is obvious from the content, and both scholars identify various epic terms and interactions with the Odyssey throughout. However, the poem’s prose introduction – almost certainly a later addition – describes the work as a problem “in epigrammatic form” (ἐν ἐπιγράμμασιν) that Archimedes sent to Eratosthenes. Indeed, the style of address seen in the first line and used throughout draws on epigrammatic convention: πληθὺν Ἠελίοιο βοῶν, ὦ ξεῖνε, μέτρησον φροντίδ’ ἐπιστήσας, εἰ μετέχεις σοφίης, Measure the multitude of the cattle of the Sun, O stranger, and set your mind to it, if you have a share in wisdom … While Leventhal and Benson take note of the poem’s relationship to epigrams,263 particularly riddles and mathematical epigrams, CP stands oddly apart from most examples by virtue of its length, leading them to consider it in other terms. Benson focuses principally on archaic elegy. His detailed evaluation of the poem’s structure – alternating sections of direct address and description – links its form to that of archaic elegies like Tyrtaeus 10W, which are composed of five-line stanzas that alternate between meditation and exhortation.264 Moreover, CP concerns itself extensively with the idea of being and becoming wise and on the importance of proper proportionality, qualities that Benson maintains further situates it within the archaic elegiac tradition, which often focuses upon the cultivation of wisdom and moderation.265 Leventhal, meanwhile, while remarking on the poem’s resonances with Hellenistic catalogue elegy, concentrates upon its relationship with the Homeric catalogue of ships.266 This is signaled by the use of πληθὺν in the first line, a recollection of Il. 2.488 (πληθὺν δ’ οὐκ ἂν ἐγὼ μυθήσομαι οὐδ’ ὀνομήνω), where the bard admits he can’t enumerate the men at Troy without the aid of the Muses. Archimedes, Leventhal argues, challenges Eratosthenes to do the work of the bard – an impossible task – on his own.267 In turn, Leventhal connects CP to the fifth-century elegiac “translation” of the Iliad by Pigres, who 263 Compare Eratosthenes’ similar, but inscribed, Duplication of the Cube (CA 35). 264 Benson 2014, 181. On Tyrtaeus 10W and other archaic elegies with this structure, see Faraone 2008. 265 Benson 2014, 181–186, where he connects it to the Seven Sages. 266 Leventhal 2015, 215–217. 267 Compare Benson 2014, 192–194.

54

Greene

changed the quantity and “size” of the hexameter by reworking it into elegy. Perhaps, as Leventhal suggests, the opening imperative μέτρησον indirectly asks the reader to consider the “measure,” i.e., the meter, of the poem itself, and accordingly spotlights the elegiac rendering of a traditionally epic subject.268 In both scholars’ formulations, the poem elides epic, elegy, and epigram into one of the world’s most poetic  – and hopeless  – math problems. With its playful but learned literary games and self-conscious generic hybridity, Cattle Problem not only testifies to the pervasiveness of the period’s often witty backward glance at its literary past, but constitutes a novel and unexpected example of the malleability of the elegiac form. Although scholars often understand Parthenius as marking the symbolic “end” of Greek elegy, a small group of elegies explicitly focused on technical matters confirms its continued, if altered, use well into the Roman imperial period. These works have historically received little critical attention, but all have recently enjoyed a modest uptick in scholarly interest. Galen, who sometimes quoted poetry at the conclusions of his medical treatises, preserves four elegiac recipes for medications and theriaca (antidotes to animal and insect venom), all from the first century CE, in addition to forty-eight recipes of Servilius Damocrates in iambic trimeters.269 The elegies, which provide long lists (catalogues!) of ingredients and instructions for preparation, range in length from Eudemus’ (SH 412a)270 at sixteen lines to Andromachus the Elder’s theriaca against viper bites, which runs for eightyseven distichs (GDRK 62). Those of Philo of Tarsus (SH 690) and Aglaias of Byzantium (SH 18)271 contain twenty-six and twenty-eight lines respectively. All but Eudemus’ poem begin with the author’s name in a prominent position, and each includes a named addressee, though Philo addresses his only “to the wise.” Why set such recipes to verse? Galen believes it protects against tampering and distortion,272 and aids in memory.273 Given that some examples are quite cryptic and none feature Homeric-style repetition, their efficacy in the latter regard seems doubtful.274 Hautala observes an attractive notional relationship between the exact measurements needed for a successful theriaca 268 Leventhal 2015, 216–218. 269 On Damocrates’ poetry, see Totelin 2012 and Vogt’s edition (forthcoming, apud Overduin 2019, 116). See Harder 2011, 182–184 for Galen’s use of the elegies. 270 On the identity of this Eudemus, see Tecusan 2004, 59–60; Overduin, 2017, 288. 271 de Stefani 2007 provides edition and short commentary. 272 Galen, De antidotis 1.5, with Vogt 2005, 68; Hautala 2014, 186–187. 273 A regular idea in Galen; Overduin 2019, 116 n. 21 collects examples and scholarly responses. 274 Overduin 2019, 101.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

55

and the exacting demands of meter. Ancient testimony presents grammar as the “sister” of medicine because “both participate in ‘creation,’ the former by combining words according to the rules of meter and the latter by producing plant remedies,” thus highlighting the correspondence of manufacturing through manipulation shared by the two fields.275 Overduin instead stresses the elegies’ representations of an authoritative voice providing instruction on technical subject matters to an addressed student. This poetic stance, he argues, recommends we understand the poems as representing a minor trend for shorter didactic poetry in elegiacs that descends from the tradition of Hesiod → Aratus → Nicander, whose (perhaps didactic) Ophiaca was also elegiac.276 Overduin thus joins Harder and Selden in challenging the restrictive standards for didactic classification that are often based upon the crystallized conventions of Latin didactic (see above, 1.3.3).277 Although the recipes of Eudemus and Andromachus278 are relatively straightforward – though not without literary ambitions – those of Philo and Aglaias279 are anything but, as illustrated in Overduin’s untangling of Philo’s recipe.280 Not unlike Archimedes, Philo thrives on riddles, teasing the reader with sophisticated puzzles that must be solved in order to identify each ingredient. For example, despite the narrator’s (in this case the “speaking” cure itself)281 assurance that its instructions to add “yellow hair breathing unguents of the godlike one, of which the blood shines in Hermes’ field” is “not obscure,” (13-15) the reference to saffron via the myth of Hermes and Crocus is entirely obscure.282 The poem’s other instructions similarly rely on the reader’s mythographic and literary knowledge, particularly of Homer, to arrive at the right measures of ingredients. In other words, as Overduin concludes, Philo’s elegiac 275 Hautela 2014, 189, with discussion of other possibilities. 276 Overduin 2019; Overduin 2019b, 269. 277 Harder 2007 (above, 1.3.3) and Sider 2014 who, like Harder 2011, understands these poems as didactic but without specific discussion (as does Luccioni 2003 and Hautula 2014, 189). For further on elegiac didactic, see Overduin 2019b, 265–272. 278 See Overduin 2019, who underscores Andromachus’ use of hymnic elements. Cassia 2012 provides a history of Andromachus’ cultural, political, and intellectual climate and activities, including his role as Nero’s doctor; cf. Luccioni 2003. 279 See de Stefani 2007 and Overduin 2019, 108–113. 280 Overduin 2018. On Andromachus, see Overduin 2019, who underscores his use of hymnic elements; Cassia 2012 provides a history of Andromachus’ cultural, political, and intellectual climate and activities, including his role as Nero’s doctor; cf. Luccioni 2003. 281 This is the only one of the poems to assume the popular epigrammatic fiction of the speaking inanimate object; see Overduin 2018, 597–598. 282 Hautala 2010, 8–9; cf. Hautala 2014, 102–193; Overduin 2018, 599–600, who provides the translation and traces possible literary referents.

56

Greene

recipe aims at readers who have knowledge of literature, not the technical skills of a physician. The piece, therefore, may have been written to satisfy the popular taste of learned imperial audiences for epigrammatic sympotic riddles that allow them to show off their paideia.283 But the poem may boast other generic affiliations as well. Overduin identifies possible links to magical texts, catalogue elegy (especially Hermesianax’s riddling allusions), and the Hellenistic riddle par excellence, Lycophron’s Alexandra, and in so doing provides multiple avenues for further exploration of these maddening but delightful literary recipes.284 In contrast, Anubion of Egyptian Thebes offers a far less complex specimen of elegiac science in his astrological poem on horoscopes in four books, likely written during the reign of Nero.285 Although the poem achieved wide circulation and served as a source for the prose astrological compendium of Firmicus Maternus, until recently we have had only a few fragments, a long paraphrase by an anonymous prose author, and scattered testimonia.286 However, several substantial fragments of the poem’s third book were found among the cache at Oxyrhynchus, and two critical editions are now available.287 Anubion’s new fragments have generated no significant interest from literary scholars, so far as I am aware. While his verse is competent and occasionally indulges in Homeric flavoring,288 the poem prefers functionality over literary elegance and keeps to its principal aim of providing clear explanations of the effects of various stellar positions.289 This is not astrology to the tune of Aratus. Indeed, Hutchinson compares Anubion’s style with Firmicus’ prose work and notes, for example, the latter’s more sophisticated treatment of images drawn from Anubion. The prose version “conspicuously rises above its poetic source.”290 Nonetheless, the existence of a long elegy written after extended elegy’s Hellenistic heyday and in a time when astronomy was far more at home in hexameters offers potential 283 Overduin 2018, 608–609 and 610–612 draws attention to the riddles collected in Book 14 of the Greek Anthology. On sympotic and other types of riddles, cf., e.g., Collins 2004, 111–134, and the essays in Kwapisz, Petrain and Szymański 2013. 284 Overduin 2018, 608–610. 285 On Anubion’s dates, see Obbink 1999 and Heilen 2010, 137–138; although it is possible he pre- or post-dates Nero, he cannot be later than the second century. 286 Several passages in Firmicus are word-for-word translations of Anubion, as seen in the F 1, 3–5 Obbink; cf. Feraboli, 1991, 201–205. Heilen 2010 provides a detailed review of Anubion’s work and his source(s). 287 Obbink 2006, building on Obbink 1991; Schubert 2015, with additional fragments and discussion of astronomical contents. 288 Noted by Obbink 1999 passim. 289 See Schubert 2015, lxxx–lxxxii for brief remarks on stylistics. 290 Hutchinson 2009, 203.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

57

for future study for those interested in the history of elegy, the development of didactic poetry, and the relationship between science and verse. 1.6 Conclusions Nothing limits the study of post-classical elegy more than the scarcity of fragments. The deplorable state of most of our catalogue elegies, not to mention the mythological narratives of Philitas and Eratosthenes, leaves the way forward unclear, unless Oxyrhynchus should favor us with new fragments. Nonetheless, I suspect that further consideration of the catalogue elegies’ briefly-noted relationships with later examples, such as the Halicarnassus inscription and the pharmacological recipes, could bear valuable fruit. For Callimachus, we may observe several different trends in research that underline the potential for further study. Some scholars are rethinking how we approach Callimachus’ interactions with his literary predecessors, and stress, despite his poetry’s innovative and intertextual qualities, the Aetia’s compositional continuity with archaic models, as seen through Callimachus’ adoption of their rhetorical and narrative strategies (e.g., Morrison 2007; Stephens 2019). At the same time, a vast amount of recent scholarship (e.g., Cameron 1995; Selden 1998; Asper 2001; Stephens 2003; Radke 2007; Klooster 2011; Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012; Harder 2014) advocates for not limiting our horizons by only thinking about Callimachus’ relationships with what came before him or his influence on what came after him. Rather, these studies variously emphasize the value of further situating his poetics as a poetics of the present, that is, as responding in rich and diverse ways to his intellectual, cultural, and political contexts. Other scholars pave the way for future exploratory studies by demonstrating the potential rewards of judiciously adopting modern theoretical approaches and perspectives, as we see in the case of geopoetical readings (Asper 2011; Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012) and in the application of contemporary narratological theories (e.g., Schmitz 1999; Sistakou 2019). Recent studies calling for formally understanding several elegies as didactic poems (Kaesser 2005; Harder 2007; Sider 2014; Overduin 2019 and 2019b) also reveal new links between apparently disparate material. The Aetia, Indalmoi, pharmacological poems, and even Anubion’s practical poem all speak to the ongoing elegiac engagement with poetic instruction, however disparate their approaches, tones, and material. Additional scholarly elaboration of this shared dynamic would be especially well-placed. The elegiac “outliers” discussed in the final section particularly invite further study. While scholars researching such works as the Cattle Problem and

58

Greene

the pharmacological elegies have produced exciting new readings that highlight the poems’ quintessentially “Hellenistic” aesthetics, there are remarkably few voices in these conversations. Indeed, for much of contemporary scholarly history, “post-classical Greek elegy” was Callimachus, Philitas, Eratosthenes, and the catalogue elegies. The excellent recent scholarship of those looking at marginalized works outside this traditional “canon” thus recommends that we expand our definitions.

Part 2: Lyric

2.1 Overview No genre encourages the binary view of post-classical Greek poetry as split between the literary/textual/“high” and the popular/performed/“low” as effectively as lyric, a term which, in the hands of Hellenistic-era scholars, came to signify poetry in melic (= sung, originally) meters.291 Certainly, much of our limited evidence supports literary lyric’s textual and elite qualities. Largely written in often obsolete archaic meters arranged κατὰ στίχον (repeating the same metrical pattern without strophic structures), literary lyric’s stichic form facilitates being rendered on the page and recitative delivery.292 Moreover, several poems rely on their textuality for effect and meaning (e.g., the figure poems, section 2.3), while others constitute clever metrical experiments designed for reading. So, for example, the witty opening of Castorion of Soli’s Hymn to Pan (SH 310), written with interchangeable iambic metra, dares learned readers to recompose its metra into more harmonious combinations (which can’t be done).293 Fantuzzi and Hunter’s overview of Hellenistic literary lyric, a corpus generally comprised of such occasional minor works, emphasizes lyric’s marginality in the elite poets’ programs of poetic reinvention.294 The transformation and loss of many of the traditional performative occasions for earlier lyric, as discussed in the Introduction, render its relative inconsequentiality all the more understandable. Rather, elite poets mainly engaged with lyric in their hexametric and elegiac works through intertextual and allusive evocations of their archaic lyric predecessors. As many have observed, in transplanting melic material, topoi, and the voices of poets like Sappho and Alcaeus into non-lyric 291 Sistakou 2017b, 222. 292 Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004, 27–28; Barbantani 2018, 63. 293 Bing 1985; Gutzwiller 2010, 349–350 on Castorion poeticizing the process of metathesis; cf. Magnelli 2015. 294 Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004, 37–41.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

59

forms, Callimachus, Theocritus, and others both revive those genres for their modern world and inscribe themselves into the archaic traditions.295 Erudite poetic interests also mirror scholarly interests. Principal concerns at the Great Library included classifying, editing, and arranging earlier lyric into “standard editions of what we might call ‘reading classics’,” with “a layout (‘colometry’) that visually highlighted an articulation in metrical sections, (κῶλα).”296 Yet, so far as we can tell, no lyric that postdates the fifth century was arranged in colometric form, despite the later classical period witnessing the explosion in popularity of performed lyrics composed by the notoriously experimental superstar virtuosos known as the New Musicians, whose songs remained in popular performance repertoires for centuries.297 Although papyri with their poetry circulated to some degree in the Hellenistic period – Alexander famously requested he be sent copies (βίβλοι) of Philoxenus’ and Telestes’ dithyrambs298 – we have no evidence their work enjoyed any formal scholarly attention. Perhaps, some scholars suggest, because it was still being reperformed, or because of the comparatively conservative literary tastes of a learned elite focused upon the traditional archaic canon.299 In either case, our lack of evidence for scholarly interest in New Music only exacerbates the perceived divide between popular and literary lyric. Recent studies, however, have started identifying traces of the New Musicians’ influence on elite Hellenistic poetry, especially their daring genre-mixing and quest for vivid mimesis.300 In contrast, the New Musicians’ impact on later popularlyperformed lyric is more well known. Their move away from traditional triadic lyric structures with antistrophic responsion, for example, anticipates the general Hellenistic trend for astrophic or monostrophic hymns, paeans, and other 295 There is considerable bibliography on this topic. Good starting points include: Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004; Acosta-Hughes 2010; the essays in Sistakou 2017. 296 D’Alessio 2017, 232. On the much-discussed question of the transmission of musical notation, see the overviews of Barbantani 2018, 67–70, and now Martinelli 2020. For scholarly activity at the Library, see, e.g., Broggiato 2014; Montana 2015; for scholarly interactions with archaic lyric, see, e.g., Lowe 2007; Hadjimichael 2019, 213–253. 297 On New Musicians, see, e.g., Csapo 2004; Csapo and Wilson 2009; multiple contributions in Kowalzig and Wilson 2013; LeVen 2014. 298 Plut. Alex. 8.3 = Onescritus FGrH 134 F38, with LeVen 2014, 54–56; cf. 39–40 on papyri of New Musicians, as well as D’Alessio 2016. 299 For the first suggestion, see Hordern 2002, 74 and LeVen 2014, 56–57. Hadjimichael 2019, esp. 246–253 instead makes a compelling case for the conservatism of Hellenistic scholars with regard to lyric. 300 On elite poetry and the New Musicians, see Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004, 18–23; Dale 2010– 2011; Prauscello 2011. Note that Hermesianax’s catalogue and Alexander Aetolus’ Muses each treat a New Musician by name, perhaps attesting to their greater popularity among the Alexandrians than generally thought (above, 1.2); cf. Barbantani 2018, 90.

60

Greene

songs (section 2.2.1–2).301 Moreover, their dazzling musical skills, hardly such that a regular citizen could emulate, likely contributed to the later widespread professionalization of lyric performance (section 2.2).302 Of course, the post-classical world was hardly a world without song. Rather, a tremendous amount of recent scholarship  – much of it reflected in Silvia Barbantani’s exhaustive surveys of Hellenistic lyric and song culture – testifies to the continued centrality and vitality of performed lyric in theaters, cult festivals, public celebrations, and other public contexts, as discussed in the next section.303 It also continued to thrive in the form of popular songs and at symposia, as witnessed, for instance, by the remains of symposiastic anthologies that preserve often simpler songs and mimes on a range of topics, including the mythological, the bucolic, and the “everyday”.304 In the following sections, I consider modern research on a variety of works belonging to the scattered, heterogeneous miscellany that is our small surviving body of post-classical Greek lyric. For those songs written for performance, e.g. paeans and hymns, we shall see one clear contemporary trend in scholarship emerge, namely the increase in readings from literary-critical and historical perspectives that explore these songs’ poetic qualities and rhetorical strategies within the broader literary, cultic, and, at times, political cultures of post-classical periods (section 2.2). These studies, while not generally eliminating the perceived divide between performed and literary lyric, do ask us to consider more carefully how we define that boundary. Although the far more diverse group of “high” lyric poems often must be approached from different perspectives, we nonetheless shall find scholars either challenging the traditional boundary by highlighting a work’s ongoing engagement with performed poetry and notions of performativity (broadly-construed), or better mapping that boundary by identifying fundamental ways in which literary lyrics designed for the page deviate from their performed counterparts and performed archaic antecedents. 2.2 Performed Lyric Theocritus’ fifteenth Idyll transports readers to Alexandria as it follows two excited Syracusan women attending a lyric performance at a crowded 301 302 303 304

Cf., e.g., West 1992, 356–385; Dale 2010–2011, 371–379; LeVen 2014, 73–77. Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004, 20–21; cf. LeVen 2014, 83–86. Barbantani 2017 and 2018, upon which I gratefully rely throughout. Barbantani 2017, 371–389 provides a survey of the fragmentary evidence for carmina popularia and symposiastic lyric, e.g. P. Tebt, 1 and 2, with extensive bibliography. I only refrain from discussing fascinating examples like Oracula Cassandrae (CA lyr. adesp. 11) here due to the constraints of space.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

61

Ptolemaic festival held in honor of Adonis (an Adonaea).305 Idyll 15 has caught the eye of scholars for various reasons but, for our purposes, it serves as a useful introduction to some elements critical to post-classical lyric performance. First, it reminds us that the experience of lyric for many, especially the nonelite, was still rooted in live performance. The occasion, moreover, reflects that of the majority of our few surviving examples of performed lyric, namely songs sung in religious or cultic festival settings (2.2.1). Politics also comes into play; in this case, the fictive song sung at the festival traces Arsinoe’s gratitude to Adonis for Aphrodite’s deification of the late Berenice, an obvious intersection of traditional religion and the interests of Ptolemaic ruler cult.306 As we shall see, contemporary scholarship stresses several surviving songs’ political dimensions (2.2.1 and 2.2.2). A critical feature of later performed lyric, furthermore, is hinted at by the description of the female performer as “that talented singer who did best in lament last year” (Id. 15.97-98); scholars have noted that she seems to be a professional repeating a standard repertoire, rather than an amateur.307 While professional musicians and performers were constants in the Greek musical and poetic traditions, the professionalization of performance became ubiquitous in later periods and significantly influenced the Hellenistic and Roman experience of lyric. As Acosta-Hughes and Stephens summarize, professionalization encouraged the creation of repertoires suitable for reperformance, but also came to favor, in some cases, the performance of a single, more easily-transportable individual  – as we see with Theocritus’ singer  – over the staging of large-scale productions or choral performances. In turn, increased professionalization affected the standards of performance. The average citizen, like the women in Idyll 15, was more exposed to skillful, professional lyric than ever before, provided those organizing festivals could attract such virtuosos.308 Professionalization also became far more organized. Inscriptions testify to the widespread growth of regional associations of “Dionysiac Artists” (often

305 Though Theocritus renders it in hexameter. 306 See Reed 2000 for the nuances of politics and poetry here. 307 E.g., Foster 2006, 133; Sistakou 2017c, 298. On female performers, see, e.g., Loman 2004; Rutherford 2009. On the vexed question of women’s participation in musical agones, see, e.g., Bélis 1999, 52–57; Dillon 2000; Aneziri 2003, 221–223. 308 Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012, 90–91. On Hellenistic audiences’ tastes, preferences, and responses to professional poets, see Chaniotis 2009b, with Chaniotis 1997 on the Hellenistic culture of spectatorship.

62

Greene

informally called technitai).309 These regional, professional associations of typically well-paid actors, singers, musicians, rhapsodes, and composers were active in the performance of a variety of poetic and musical forms, either individually or in groups.310 Considerable scholarship has been devoted to tracking their activities. In addition to performing at the invitation of cities and other clients, these mobile professionals, along with unaffiliated professional poeti vaganti, followed the calendar of local and Panhellenic religious festivals and musical competitions (agones), whose number increased during the Hellenistic period, often being organized and managed by association members themselves.311 Cinalli’s recent epigraphic case study on the international performative life of Hellenistic Delos and Delphi, for example, paints a detailed portrait of the various opportunities that marquee musical destinations offered cosmopolitan guild members and “wandering poets” alike.312 The volumes of Le Guin and Aneziri, which exhaustively collect and analyze inscriptional and documentary evidence about the Dionysiac Artists, have reinvigorated the field by allowing for a more detailed  – albeit still fragmentary  – reconstruction of the activities, concerns, and reception of these associations and their members, as well as the natures of the various venues and occasions in which they performed.313 Le Guin and Aneziri’s scholarship has also underscored these associations’ political dimensions.314 In the Hellenistic kingdoms, for example, we find the Ptolemies, Attalids, and Seleucids relying on them as popular intermediaries to communicate

309 Both Le Guen 2001 and Aneziri 2003 make clear that the more common term technitai also encompasses supporting vocations like workman and stagehands, and so prefer the more correct but cumbersome term “Dionysiac Artists.” 310 See the overviews of Le Guen 2001, 2.9–49, and Barbantani 2018. Cf. Rutherford 2014, esp. 245–259 on professional and theoric choruses. 311 On the increase in number and the role of technitai in festival administration, see Aneziri 2007; cf. Aneziri 2003 passim. Rutherford 2014, 247 observes that, in managing agones, “they took over to some extent the religious function of the polis.” Three volumes assemble epigraphical evidence and literary testimony for the various types of regional musical contests: Manieri 2009 (Boeotia), Della Bona 2017 (Delphi), and Massaro 2018 (Sparta, non vidi). For Hellenistic festival networks, see van Nijf and Williamson 2016; for the later Hellenistic period, see Fauconnier 2016. See, e.g., Barbantani 2001, 3–29 and the essays in Hunter and Rutherford 2009 for discussion of the poeti vaganti. 312 Cinalli 2018. 313 Le Guen 2001; Aneziri 2003. The number of epigraphic studies regarding Dionysiac Artists and traveling poets is considerable; Le Guin, Aneziri, and Barbantani 2018 offer thorough starting bibliographies. 314 Cf. also Rutherford 2014 for brief discussion of their political relationships with the poleis.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

63

with their subjects, as we see dramatized in Idyll 15’s Ptolemaic Adonaea.315 Furthermore, as Lightfoot emphasizes, the technitai and Hellenistic monarchs enjoyed mutually-beneficial relationships, with the reputation of the one justifying and supporting the reputation of the other.316 In the Roman period, these associations continued to thrive, though, as Aneziri demonstrates, the regional associations of the Hellenistic period gave way to a more centralized, “world-wide” professional guild.317 Despite the seeming ubiquity of festivals, cults, and musical agones, we only possess two songs that we can be sure were popularly-performed by Dionysiac Artists (cultic paeans, see below, 2.2.1). The loss is particularly felt in the case of post-classical dithyramb, which seems to have revived the use of the cithara, and other forms of citharodic song (i.e., nomoi, “tunes”).318 Although epigraphic and documentary evidence confirms that these songs remained popular staples of live performance, especially by professionals in competitions at festivals for Dionysus, we possess no post-classical dithyramb or nome.319 As Kowalzig and Wilson remark, “The long Hellenistic chapter in the history of dithyramb is for us a chapter more or less entirely without poetry …”320 Instead, scholars applying material-cultural and cultural-historical approaches to our epigraphic and literary evidence gradually track the history of later dithyrambic performance,321 possible changes in dithyramb’s form and classification

315 E.g., Le Guin 2001, 2.88–93. Cf. Le Guin 2007 for the Pergamum rulers’ use of the associations to construct their public image as new incarnations of Dionysus. 316 Lightfoot 2002. 317 Aneziri 2009, 217–236, esp. 227–229. See Spawforth 2007 on the Greek festivals organized by the Roman emperors; cf. Hardie 2002 on the Games of Domitian. 318 The principal modern resource on citharodic song is Power 2010, with Bélis 1995 on the various types of citharodic performance. For the dithyrambic revival of the cithara, see Ceccerelli 2013 and Franklin 2013. Note that the aulos continued to be used for dithyramb as well. 319 The five dithyrambic fragments in CA (p. 192–193) have been shown to predate the Hellenistic period; see Barbantani 2018, 62 n. 3 for discussion and bibliography. The epigraphic evidence is collected by Ieranò 1997. For competitive compositions, we may consult, for example, victor lists for contests at Teos organized by Dionysiac Artists that record “dithyrambic” victories for solo citharodes, as discussed by Ceccarelli 2013; cf. Ma 2007. See Power 2010 for extensive contextualization and discussion of Nero’s infamous competitive citharodic aspirations. 320 Kowalzig and Wilson 2013, 26. 321 E.g., Ceccarelli 2013 (comprehensive overview); Cecarelli and Milanezi 2013 (Cyrenean performance); Shear 2013 (choragic monuments in imperial Athens), to be read with Wilson 2000, 265–302.

64

Greene

relative to archaic and classical examples,322 and its reception and reperformance in a given area and time.323 Yet, as several scholars observe, the rise of associations of traveling professionals did not entirely displace some traditional choral groups connected to cities or festivals. So, for example, the Molpoi of Didyma, citizen holders of religious offices, continued singing paeans to Apollo.324 Nor did professionalization fully eclipse citizen participation in performance, particularly in circular choruses. Rather, many cities continued to maintain these bodies, though sometimes engaging a guild member to train them.325 Indeed, D’Alessio emphasizes that the community and civic value of choral activity continued to be felt at least through the second century CE,326 while musical instruction remained a central feature of Hellenic paideia, as attested by records of musical competitions sponsored by gymnasia.327 Greek theatrical performances continued as well. One type of popular production involved companies of professional actors and musicians (typically not affiliated with the Dionysiac Artists) staging prose, prosimetric, and lyric mimes.328 Recent scholarship has revived interest in a fragmentary lyric mime, the Fragmentum Grenfellianum (= FG), often called “The Grenfell Erotic Papyrus” or “The Maiden’s Lament” (= P.Dryton 50, dated to before 174 BCE).329 In sixty-one damaged lines, this astrophic song stages the emotional, pathetic appeal of a woman  – possibly a hetaera similar to the bona meretrix of the Roman comedic stage – at the door of the lover who abandoned her.330 The song 322 Especially Ceccarelli 2013, who illustrates the general epigraphic application of the term ‘dithyramb’ to solo (thus usually professional) performances to the cithara and not for circular choral performances. Cf. D’Alessio 2013 on classical-era confusion between terms for dithyrambic performance. 323 So Prauscello 2009 on the different reception of Timotheus in various areas based upon cultural and political ideologies. 324 Rutherford 2001, 32 and 60; Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012, 111–112; D’Alessio 2016. 325 Cf., e.g., Rutherford 2014, 246; Cinalli 2018, 53–55. 326 D’Alessio 2017, 245–247. 327 Barbantani 2018, 75–76. 328 On the scant fragments of other verse performed mimes, see Barbantani 2017, 385–388. For the theatrical performance of prose and prosimetric mimes, see, e.g., Tedeschi 2002; Esposito 2010, 279–281; Tsitsiridis 2011; Panayotakis 2014. 329 Editions: CA 177–189; Cunningham 2004, fr. 4; Esposito 2005, full text, introduction, and commentary; short commentaries are provided by Bing 2002 and Höschele 2017. On the song in the context of Hellenistic mime, see Esposito 2005, 41–50; Panayotakis 2014, esp. 382–385, with discussion of its possible influence on Roman pantomime and comedy. For bibliography regarding its disputed influence on Plautine cantica, see Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004, 27 n. 100; Battezzato 2009, 410–411 with n. 20. 330 Esposito 2005, 51–57 on the character as a hetaera.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

65

thus playfully inverts the stock epigrammatic, elegiac, and comic scene called the paraclausithyron – a male lover locked outside and singing to his beloved during a drunken revel. Although early commentators thought the piece to be in prose, scholars now understand it as a metrically complex song that moves from a variety of meters into an aria consisting mostly of impassioned dochmiacs reminiscent of late Euripidean tragic songs.331 Yet, as Esposito notes, this is tragedy filtered through New Comedy, resulting in a tragi-comic piece.332 Earlier commentators remarked on FG’s “popular” qualities, e.g., it is written in koine and lacks obvious mythological exempla or allusions.333 Bing and Esposito, however, observe that its topic, tone, and motifs recall Hellenistic epigram (especially the jilted lover of Asclepiades A.P. 5.164), Euripidean tragic heroines, and perhaps Sappho, until, as Battezzato suggests, it concludes with language reminiscent of the closing remarks in Hellenistic legal prose.334 Thus, Esposito argues, the FG accumulates “high” elements drawn from earlier literature and integrates them with the “low” into a single form aimed at entertaining literate middle-class audiences, particularly those outside Alexandria.335 The circumstances of FG’s preservation support this interpretation. The song was recorded after 174 BCE by a retired Ptolemaic cavalry officer named Dryton, who lived in Ptolemais and Thebais between 192 and 126 BCE.336 Though Dryton’s version is a personal copy apparently made for reading on the verso of an unrelated (but dated) business document, evidence from the papyrus indicates it was likely copied from a performance text.337 Much the same is true of the few other preserved mime fragments we have, a genre which, so far as we can tell, was not committed to the page for circulation as reading texts, except in the cases of personal copies. Rather, mimes typically were written only to serve as performance scripts for the company.338 The example of performed mime – a genre not meant for reading – brings us to the obvious issue facing those studying Hellenistic popular lyric, an obstacle 331 All recent commentators provide metrical schemes, though some vary. See Battezzato 2009 for the most recent metrical discussion. 332 Esposito 2005, 37–38. 333 E.g., Wilamowitz 1896, 220; Hunter 1996, 8–10. 334 Bing 2002, 383–384; Esposito 2005, 35–39, 51–70, and commentary passim. Battezzato 2009, 417–420; cf. Esposito 2005, 44–45 and 170–171 on the legal language. For discussion of Asclepiades’ epigram, see Sens 2011, 82–88. 335 Esposito 2002 and 2005, 37–39, 41–50, 57. Cf. Barbantani 2017, 383 on the non-urban audience. 336 Esposito 2002; Esposito 2005, esp. 12–13, 47–50. On the cache of documents from Dryton’s archive, see Vandorpe 2002 and Gonis 2006. 337 Bing 2002, 384; Esposito 2002, 201; Esposito 2005, 14–15; Battezzato 2009. 338 Esposito 2005, 14; Barbantani 2017, 382–383.

66

Greene

already mentioned in the case of dithyramb: the pronounced absence of the songs themselves. Perhaps our lack of evidence can be attributed to the unfortunate vagaries of transmission or, as noted in 2.1, the theory that songs still in performance repertoires were not edited for circulation. D’Alessio’s recent study, however, makes the simple but logical suggestion that most lyric songs composed for performance in later periods were never intended for circulation as texts for reading audiences at all. So the great hymnist Aelius Aristides talks about the choral songs he has composed, but he only sets to the page prose examples.339 This theory indicates an ancient conceptual divide between performed songs and literary poetry that, if D’Alessio is correct, lends credence to the fundamental distinction between them perceived by many modern scholars. Given the possible implications, I expect we shall see further discussion. But in either case, as D’Alessio observes, nearly all performed songs that survive do so because they were inscribed, preserved in texts for musical training and reperformance, or through fortuitous quotation, as we shall see in the next two sections.340 2.2.1 Inscribed Paeans Our most complete works of performed lyric come to us in the form of inscribed paeans and hymns that were performed at the various international cult centers like Delphi and Epidaurus and then later committed to stone, often with accompanying paratexts giving details of the performances, the rewards earned by the authors, or regulations regarding ritual performance (lex sacra).341 In the past, these inscriptions principally have been the province of epigraphists and scholars of Greek religious practices. However, a flurry of extensive and systematic studies of hymns and paeans,342 combined with growing scholarly interest in better understanding “literary” hymns (e.g., Callimachus’ Hymns) as they relate to lived practices, have resulted in new research that focuses upon inscribed cultic songs’ poetic qualities, their reflection of contemporary contexts, and the interplay of materiality, textuality, and performance in their forms. In this section, I introduce recent scholarly evaluations of a small

339 D’Alessio 2017, 245–246. 340 D’Alessio 2017, with discussion of the very few examples that may go against this tendency (not discussed here). Cf. West 2004–2005. 341 See Petrovic and Petrovic 2006, 151–154 on issues with the term lex sacra, which I use throughout only for convenience. 342 Käppel 1992; Schröder 1999; Rutherford 2001; Furley and Bremmer 2001.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

67

selection of inscribed paeans,343 a genre notoriously resistant to easy definition.344 For our purposes, we may understand a cultically-performed paean as a choral song of prayer and appeal, featuring an opening, a narrative/praise section, and a closing prayer, that is sung by men and traditionally addressed to Apollo as a healing and saving figure (“Paian”).345 However, during the classical period and later, a “periphery” group of paeans elevated other gods, especially Asclepius, to the position of “Paian” as well.346 One epigraphic paean occupies a critical position in the much larger debate regarding the historical development – or devolvement – of this irascible genre.347 In his 1992 monograph, Käppel argues that the end of the fifth century marks a critical turning point and moment of discontinuity for paeans. At this time, he maintains, their formal elements – e.g., the epiphthegma (traditional refrain ἰὲ Παιάν), descriptive style, and structure  – began to follow standard patterns and little creativity was admitted. For him, a prime example of this is the Erythraean Paean to Asclepius (ca. 380–360), which was inscribed on a stele in the Erythraean Asclepeion and accompanied by a lex sacra regarding sacrifices to be made on behalf of the city, procedures for incubation, and directions for properly performing the song.348 The song itself, a short piece in lyric dactyls, prays for Asclepius’ aid and protection, omitting the typical central narrative portion in favor of listing the god’s offspring. In terms of content and style, it is quite formal and simple, principally devoting itself to justifying the identification of Asclepius as “Paian”.349 Yet this song was also copied, and each time slightly and carefully modified in terms of its few local references, multiple times throughout the Hellenistic and imperial periods.350 Versions are preserved from the Egyptian city Ptolemais (97 CE), 343 I cite the text and enumeration of Käppel for all examples. Furley and Bremmer 2001 provide text as well as indispensable historical and literary commentary for each. For the many inscribed paeans and hymns I do not discuss, see the comprehensive survey of Barbantani 2018 and Furley and Bremmer. 344 The issue of paeanic classification has persisted since Alexandrian disagreements of its formal features, as we find in the much-discussed ancient scholarly dispute regarding the genre of Bacchylides’ Cassandra, on which see most recently Hadjimichael 2019, 255–280. 345 This working definition is cobbled together from Rutherford 2001. See Stehle 1997, 119–169 for discussion of gender and community as they relate to the content of paeans. 346 Rutherford 2001, 11, 130–131. See below, 2.2.2, on paeans for human addressees. 347 For an excellent overview of the long and ongoing larger debate that spans multiple periods, see Ford 2006. 348 Text/Commentary:  37 Käppel 1992; Furley and Bremmer 2001, 1.211–214, 2.161–167; LeVen 2017. 349 On the song’s devotion to justifying this identification, see LeVen 2014, 286–294. 350 Faraone 2011 provides comprehensive overviews of the versions, emphasizing the metrical care that was taken in making local substitutions.

68

Greene

Athens (1st–2nd century CE), and Dion, Macedonia (2nd century CE). Käppel interprets the song as evidence of the widespread late-classical “automatization” of paeanic composition; such songs satisfy cult needs, but there is little of literary note.351 Schröder, responding directly to Käppel, advocates instead for generic continuity, and views such songs as the Erythraean Paean as reflecting an earlier strain of less elaborated cult poetry which stood in contrast to the more sophisticated paeans of Pindar and Bacchylides.352 Both theories, however, implicitly agree on the song’s lesser literary quality. Others, however, reorient the discussion away from interpretations that rely upon notions of relative sophistication and historical and formalist reconstructions of genre. LeVen instead views the Erythraean Paean as a lesson in the ways that a traditional cult song could be disseminated and meaningfully adapted to multiple situations and places, with various cult locations participating in and altering the tradition to reflect their own area, as we see in the Ptolemais version’s short addenda praying for an abundant harvest (22-26).353 Working in much the same vein, Fantuzzi wonders if the paean’s very simplicity and adherence to basic generic “standards” may be a strategy designed for widespread transmission rather than “a sign of literary poverty.”354 Indeed, the song may have served as a model for at least one subsequent composer, Macedonicus of Amphipolis, whose short first-century BCE astrophic paean displays similar conventions and structure.355 In contrast to the determined generality of the Erythraean Paean, a pair of astrophic paeans to Apollo, carved onto the southern wall of the Athenian Treasury at Delphi, have captured attention for their representation of areaspecific history, as well as their musicality. The late second-century songs in cretic-paeonic meter were composed by technitai members Athenaeus and Limenius for the same occasion, the Athenian theoric delegation’s choral 351 Käppel 1992, 62–96. Compare Rutherford 2001, 126–136, who likewise identifies fifthcentury paeanic discontinuity, transformation, and “decline,” but does not address this particular song (dating it to earlier) at 39–41. 352 Schröder 1999, 62–96. See the reviews of D’Alessio 1994 and 2000, which generally favor Schröder. 353 LeVen 2014, 286–294. Compare Alonge 2011, 221–228 on the adaptive potential of the Hymn to the Curetes (ca. 300 BCE). He revives Bowra’s 1954 theory to suggest that its refrain – the core part of the song – was orally transmitted and updated depending on current contexts. Cf. Fantuzzi 2010, 195–196. 354 Fantuzzi 2010, 195. 355 See Faraone 2011, 220, who adduces both paeans in his theory for a classical tradition of astrophic Athenian paeans in dactyls. Cf. Alonge 2011, 221 n. 9. For Macedonicus’ paean, see CA 138–140; Käppel 1992, 200–206; Furley and Bremmer 2001, 1.266–267, 2.228–233; Fantuzzi 2010, 189; Sheppard 2018, 307–308.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

69

performance during the Pythais festival, which enacts and commemorates Athens’ ritual connections to Delphi.356 Interlinear musical notation carved above the inscriptions compounds the paeans’ value as rare surviving works by Dionysiac Artists, and their musical similarities have been much-discussed by scholars of ancient music.357 They also share similar basic content and topoi (e.g., invocation of Muses, aretologies of Apollo that highlight his slaying of Python and his defeat of the Gauls, narrative sections focused on journeys from Athens to Delphi), which suggest to Furley and Bremmer that the pair represent variations on the Athenians’ “national paean” for the Pythais.358 Yet the differences are instructive. Limenius’ paean stages Apollo’s first journey after his birth on Delos to Attica and then Delphi, the aition for the Pythais festival, with the stopover in Attica being an Atheno-centric variant of the story.359 Throughout, all recent commentators emphasize, Limenius prioritizes casting Athens in a central, foundational role at Delphi. Bowie’s study on spatial movement in the song underscores the description of Apollo’s birth as having world-wide impact (7-10), the force of which converges on Attica with the god’s arrival.360 Here the autochthonous Athenians  – not the Delphians  – invent the paeanic cry (17-20), and Apollo’s delight in them becomes the basis for the Delphic cult.361 Given that Delphi boasts its own aition for the paeanic cry, in this moment, as Rutherford observes, “… we see the Athenians presenting a 356 Many scholars follow the suggestion of Bélis 1992 that both paeans were performed for the same Pythais festival in 128/7 BCE. Others propose alternatives: Schröder 1999, 71–74: Athenaeus 128/7, Limenius 106/5; Furley and Bremmer 2001, 1.130–131: Athenaeus 138/7, Limenius 128/7. On the Pythais festival see, e.g., Furley and Bremmer 2001, 132–134; Rutherford 2004, 76–81. Text/Commentary for Athenaeus: CA 141–148; Käppel 1992, 46; Furley and Bremmer 2001, 1.129–138 and 2.83–92. The name has been reconstructed from the damaged paratext by Bélis 1992, 48–56; on Athenaeus as a technitai, as implied by the song itself, see Furley and Bremmer 2001, 1.131. Text/Commentary for Limenius: CA 148–159; Käppel 1992, 45; Furley and Bremmer 2001, 1.129–138 and 2.92–100. 357 We have the vocal score for Athenaeus and the instrumental accompaniment for Limenius. See, e.g., Bélis 1992, III 2 no. 47–48, who sees more differences; Pöhlmann-West 2001, 62–85, who emphasize their musical similarities. For Athenaeus, see also Barker 2002, 117–132. 358 Furley-Bremmer 2001, 1.132, looking to FD III 2 no. 48.12 (= SIG 698, 98/97 BCE), which refers to the Athenians’ πάτριος παιάν. 359 Only found elsewhere at Aesch. Eum. 9-11. 360 Bowie 2015, 116. 361 See especially Vamvouri-Ruffy 2004, 176; Fantuzzi 2010, 193; Bowie 116–117. Moreover, from a narrative perspective, this moment coalesces the narrative frame of the paean-singing autochthons and the performative frame of the paean-singing technitai, as noted by Thomas 2015, 35.

70

Greene

version … which appropriates for their polis a greater role in Apolline mythology at the expense of Delphi.”362 In contrast, pro-Athenian mytho-history is little in evidence in Athenaeus’ shorter song, which narrates the spectacle of the technitai’s current musical procession to honor the god.363 Fantuzzi suggests that the two songs – which were inscribed next to each other and perhaps joined with a δε364 – thus offer complementary perspectives of Athenian involvement with Delphic Apollo. While Limenius’ version (re)defines and broadcasts their connections in the distant past, Athenaeus’ song links Athens, the god, and Delphi through its narrative focus on the current procession of the Dionysiac Artists.365 Together, the pair fabricate a history, of sorts, of the relationship between polis and god.366 Another Delphic inscribed song has enjoyed considerable scholarly interest due to its striking generic affiliations, the long Paean to Dionysus (339/40 BCE) in twelve strophes ascribed to Philodamus of Scarpheia.367 A long prose subscription records that Philodamus and his brothers were honored with proxeny and several other rewards for the paean, which was written “according to the oracular command of the god [Apollo].”368 The song was almost certainly performed at the Delphic festival the Theoxenia, which traditionally celebrates Apollo’s spring return.369 This in itself is arresting: dithyrambs for Dionysus were performed at Delphi in the winter, but not in the spring, nor is Dionysus a typical honorand in Apollo’s Theoxenia.370 Käppel’s ground-breaking discussion of the song’s self-conscious awareness of being a paean for the god of dithyrambs and its investment in assimilating Dionysus to Apollo provides the basis for contemporary evaluations.371 The song begins:

362 Rutherford 2004, 81. Cf. Rutherford 2001, 34–36. 363 FD III 23 n. 47 = SIG 698, which describes the various musicians (including aulodes and citharodes) in Limenius’ procession, with Barbantani 2018, 99–100. 364 See Furley and Bremmer 2001, 1.131. 365 Fantuzzi 2010, 194. 366 See LeVen 2014, 294–304 on the inscribed hymns of Antinous to Apollo and Hestia at Delphi, which also constitute a complementary pair of inscriptions. 367 Text/Commentary: CA 165–171; Käppel 1992, 39; Furley and Bremmer 2001, 1.121–128 and 2.52–84; LeVen 2017c. For a different date, see Neumann-Hartmann 2004. 368 On the identity of the author, see Barbantani 2018, 98. 369 Furley and Bremmer 2001, 1.124–128. 370 See Bacchyl. 16.8-12; Plut. Mor. 389a-b, on the traditional opposition of dithyramb and paean, with Rutherford 2001, 88–90 and Fantuzzi 2010, 190. However, as Prauscello 2011 notes (with helpful bibliography), Delphi offers one of the few places where historically the two gods’ cults productively interacted. 371 Käppel 1992, 207–284.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

71

[Δεῦρ’ ἄνα Δ]ιθύραμβε Βάκχ’ ε[ὔιε, ταῦρε, κισσο]χαῖτα, Βρόμι’, ἠρινα[ῖς ἵκου] [ταῖσδ’] ἱεραῖς ἐν ὥραις· Εὐοῖ ὦ Ἰό[βακχ’ ὦ ἰὲ Παιά]ν· Come here, Lord of the Dithyramb, Bacchus, god of jubilation, Bull, with a crown of ivy in your hair, Roarer, oh come in this holy season of spring – euhoi, o io Bacchus, o ie Paian!372 There is no mistaking the marked Διθύραμβε that calls immediate attention to the poem’s generic duality. The mesymnion’s pairing of the standard Dionysiac cry εὐοῖ Ἰόβακχ’ with the paeanic ἰὲ Παιάν – which repeats throughout – juxtaposes the two gods while simultaneously collapsing their distinctions. For Käppel, this represents a particularly “Hellenistic” moment of generic transgression, though other scholars interpret the mix of modes more as serving to embody and advance the syncretic religious goals of the poem.373 Several commentators explore the ways that Philodamus consistently maintains such syncretism, as well as his concentrated emphasis on legitimizing Dionysus as “Paian”. The fifth strophe, for example, features the Muses, led by Apollo, dancing around Dionysus and pronouncing him “Forever immortal and famous Paian” (60-62). Marcos Macedo reads this moment as the dissolution of barriers between myth and the performance itself, with the Muses of the song and the performing human chorus affirming the same thing in a unified voice.374 Legitimization remains the priority in the final strophes, though here it is accomplished through unprecedented interaction between prose paratext and song. As Petrovic observes, the long paratext not only confirms Apollo’s approval of the paean via an oracle, but commands the Amphictyons to receive it at the Theoxenia, finish Apollo’s new Delphic temple, and establish a dithyrambic competition and statue in honor of Dionysus. The last several strophes of the paean repeat these same instructions at length and, in the process, 372 Translation based on Furley and Bremmer 2001, 1.121, with modifications. 373 Käppel 1992, 225; cf. Rutherford 2001, 132–134, who notes that it “invites interpretation as generic innovation,” but also understands it as “generic syncretism” that accompanies religious syncretism. On the song’s syncretic goals, see, e.g., Fantuzzi 2010, 191; Prauscello 2011, 301. Compare the criticism of LeVen 2014, 304–305 for focusing overmuch on genre and not enough on the pragmatic rhetoric of the song. 374 Marcos Macedo 2010, 281–283, followed by Bowie 2015, 107–109, with discussion of other narrative strategies. Cf. LeVen 2014, 306–317 on rhetorical strategies. Cf. Calame 2009 on strophe 5 as an epiphany.

72

Greene

effectively validate the song’s own existence through Apollo’s enjoinment that the Delphic confederation “present this song for his brother [Dionysus] to the family of the gods” (110-113) at the Theoxenia.375 Thus, Petrovic concludes, the song provides both a mythical justification for Philodamus’ appropriation of the genre (strophe 5) and a cultic justification for its performance at the festival through Apollo’s oracular command.376 While the paratext authorizes the paean’s message, the song itself ultimately reinforces – and is reinforced by – its physical surroundings. Stewart first proposed that the syncretism of Apollo and Dionysus in the paean finds an iconographical response in the decorations of the new, sixth Delphic temple of Apollo, which were underway but not completed at the time of performance.377 The east pediment’s standard depiction of Apollo as citharode accompanied by the Muses was, it seems, matched on the west pediment by a representation of Dionysus, also portrayed as a citharode and clad in robes similar to Apollo’s.378 The program of the inscribed paean thus anticipates the decorative program of the temple and, upon the latter’s completion, the pair affirm each other’s message.379 Vamvouri-Ruffy and Fantuzzi add that the Delphic iconography may be an example of the Athenian interest in establishing close links between Dionysus and Apollo at Delphi, as Athenian artists were in charge of selecting the new temple’s iconography.380 Our final inscribed paean even more emphatically demonstrates generic awareness, the strategic use of literary modes, and the crucial role that paratexts can play. The Epidaurian Paean to Apollo and Asclepius of Isyllus (ca. 280? BCE) is a relatively short piece in lyric ionics which principally legitimizes the two gods’ local cult by relocating the genealogy of Asclepius to Epidaurus.381 375 Petrovic 2011, 279–281. Cf. Fantuzzi 2010, 101; LeVen 2014, 311–312. 376 Petrovic 2011, 280–281. 377 The temple had been destroyed in 383. Furley and Bremmer 2001, 2.74–75 observe that the oracle in Philodamus’ song, which emphasizes the need to hurry up and finish the reconstructions, may have been included at the request of frustrated local authorities. 378 Stewart 1982, 209. 379 Generally, scholars have adopted this suggestion, e.g., Fantuzzi 2010, 191: “the song … can plausibly be read as an aition for this [sculptural] arrangement.” 380 Vamvouri-Ruffy 2004, 205–206; Fantuzzi 2010, 192. See Clay 1996 and Bowie 2015 for further discussion of the hymn as it relates to Athenian political and religious interests in Delphi. 381 Text/Commentary: CA 132–136; Käppel 1992, 40; Furley and Bremmer 2001, 1.227–239 and 2.180–192; Rutherford 2001, 41; LeVen 2017b. Full edition and commentary provided by Kolde 2003. On the issue of authorship and date, see Furley and Bremmer 2001, 2.233–236 who argue for a mid-fourth century date; Kolde 2003, 229–236 who makes an extended case for the later date and for Isyllus’ authorship.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

73

More important, however, is its placement as the sixth part in a seven-part inscription featuring sections comprised of prose and different meters (trochaic tetrameters, hexameters, one elegiac distich) that provide the details of Isyllus’ lex sacra and a comprehensive narrative of the song and law’s conception, including Apollo’s oracular advice that Isyllus should inscribe the poem (section 4).382 Kolde’s expansive commentary on this complex piece explores its incorporation of a variety of traditional modes, genres, and texts in the sections’ forms and phrasing.383 Thus section 4, which tells the aetiology of the cult of Apollo Maleatas, gestures to inscribed epigram with the inscription’s single elegiac distich (27-28) in a line about the dedication of an altar.384 The final section in hexameters, recounting a miracle of Asclepius witnessed by a younger Isyllus, recalls heroic epic.385 In this, we can see a poet aware of the cultural potency of different modes and genres, though Kolde cautions against considering Isyllus a true poeta doctus engaged in Hellenistic-style allusion or Kreuzung der Gattungen.386 Rather, Isyllus’ bold polygeneric inscription, in her estimation, more reflects an author in tune with the general literary Zeitgeist, an author who puts his awareness of his era’s poetic heritage – its “common cultural baggage”  – to good use in his selective deployment of traditional modes of expression that align with his goals in each section.387 These goals are intimately bound to issues of politics and the inscription’s crafting of Isyllus’ own public persona. Commentators regularly observe Isyllus’ pro-aristocratic bias, as well as the poem’s pro-Spartan sentiments.388 For example, Isyllus’ sacred law (section 2) demands that the “best of the Epidaurians” serve as the leaders of cult activities to ensure various virtues and blessings for the community (e.g., physical and ethical excellence, good order, and blameless wealth). However, Fantuzzi and LeVen build on Kolde’s work to offer similar evaluations of Isyllus’ various literary and rhetorical strategies for bolstering his own political and religious authority. Both, for example, interpret his language in section 2 as encouraging readers to identify him as a new Solon, who likewise promoted those same values and relied on various 382 See Petrovic 2011, 279 on the paratext presenting the oracle as both an institution and literary critic. 383 Kolde 2003, 241–247. 384 Kolde 2003, 113–115; 237; cf. Fantuzzi 2010, 185; LeVen 2014, 322–323. 385 Kolde 2003, e.g., 175; 237. 386 Kolde 2003, esp. 242–248. 387 Kolde 2003, 247; cf. Kolde 2002/2003; Fantuzzi 2010, 196. 388 Sineux 1999, 62–66; Furley and Bremmer 2001, 230–233; Vamvouri-Ruffy 2004, 168–171; Kolde 2003, esp. 265–287 and Kolde 2002/3 especially emphasize the pro-Spartan and often Lycurgan elements in the inscription.

74

Greene

meters and modes in his own poetry.389 Rather differently, the final hexametric section, wherein the young Isyllus meets the god himself, effectively casts Isyllus as the protégé of the divine, thus implying his special role relative to the god.390 Although the details of their analyses differ on some important points, both Fantuzzi and LeVen understand this daring inscription as a literate matrix of rhetorical strategies designed to justify Isyllus’ position, his law, his new song, and his conception of Asclepius.391 These songs’ rhetoric, concerns, performance contexts, and approaches to praise vary, but they all share a materiality that, as we have seen, can interact with its environment and paratexts to produce vital dimensions of meaning absent from the performed original. This materiality, in fact, constitutes a departure from traditional practice. After all, earlier periods did regularly inscribe cultic songs. Scholars suggest several possible reasons for inscription, such as Hellenistic distrust in oral transmission and the songs’ continued use as liturgical references for ritual worship.392 Many also stress that inscriptions serve as commemoration, be it of the performances, the composers and the rewards they earned, or even the musical history of the site itself, as we find in the “anthology” of classical and postclassical hymnic inscriptions compiled in the Roman period at Epidaurus.393 Other scholars contextualize inscriptional commemoration as operating in the same dedicatory framework as votive epigrams, as both LeVen and Sheppard discuss.394 Following Joseph Day’s interpretation of archaic votive inscriptions as containing “fossils” of the original dedications, we may construe readers’ encounters with graven hymns as either activating a sort of reperformance of the song and its ritual dedication to the god (so LeVen), or, as Sheppard suggests, as evoking and creating

389 390 391 392

Fantuzzi 2010, 183–188; LeVen 2014, 319. Fantuzzi 2010, 188; LeVen 2014, 327. Fantuzzi 2010, 186–187; LeVen 2014, 326–328. Fantuzzi 2010, 195 for the first suggestion. For the second, D’Alessio 2017, 250–251 notes one inscription at Epidaurus that includes times for performance, though Alonge 2011, 229–230 points out that we have far more lex sacra inscribed than we do songs, so the song itself does not seem to always be required. 393 Alonge 2011 offers a helpful discussion of the various motivations for inscription. Cf. D’Alessio 2017, 250–251 for some reservations. On the Epidaurian inscriptional anthology as a commemoration of Epidaurus’ musical history, see Wagman 1995, 38–40 and Wagman 2013, 222–224. On these inscriptions and a smaller anthology at Athens, see also Barbarbanti 2018, 101–103, who adds that such inscriptions also make a tacit statement about the power and magnificence of the sanctuaries. 394 LeVen 2014, 285–329 passim stresses deictic language in the songs and paratexts. Cf. Kolde 2003, 47–48 on the dedicatory language in the first line in Isyllus’ inscription.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

75

the memory of the original performance context and festival.395 Inscriptional commemoration, in either case, facilitates active experiences with lyric performance long after the songs had ended. 2.2.2 Other Paeans and Hymns In addition to the inscribed songs from the previous section, a handful of paeans and hymns also composed for performance come to us as texts, whether quoted by another author, like Melinno’s enigmatic Hymn to Rome (SH 541),396 or in what were likely instructional music books, as happens with the short Hymn to Tyche.397 Some of these songs enjoyed cultic performance, such as the paean of Ariphron and likely several of Mesomedes’ hymns, but all existed in some form beyond cult as well. The works in this heterogeneous group have recently been the subjects of exciting new research that focuses both upon their cultural and performance contexts, and their relationships with earlier notions of hymnic genres. We begin with a fragmentary paean in dactylo-epitrites praising either Seleucus I or II which was engraved just below the oldest inscribed copy of the Erythraean Paean (for Apollo and Asclepius): ὑμνεῖτε ἐπὶ σπονδαῖς Ἀπόλλωνος κυανοπλοκάμου παῖδα Σέλευκον, ὃν αὐτὸς γείνατο χρυ[ς]ολύρας Praise with hymns during the libations Seleucus, the son/servant of darkhaired Apollo, whom the player of the golden lyre himself begot …398 Seleucus is figured as the son of Apollo, thus naturalizing his inclusion beneath a song for his “father” and “brother” Asclepius, a representation aligned with the general dynastic propaganda of Hellenistic monarchs. While offering a striking example of Hellenistic ruler-cults being inserted  – literally  – into Panhellenic cult songs, the paean for Seleucus more generally represents the late-classical expansion of paeans and encomiastic hymns to address

395 Day 2010 passim, esp. 6, with Day 2000 and Depew 2000. LeVen 2014, esp. 283–284; Sheppard 2018, esp. 299–300. 396 Melinno’s song in praise of a conquering Roma features a hymnic style with Sapphic arrangement and language, but cannot be firmly dated. On the poem see, e.g., Giangrande 1991; Raimondi 1995–1998; Torres 2003; Gutzwiller 2017. 397 P. Berol. Inv. 9734 (BKTV 2.142–143). Furley 2010; D’Alessio 2017, 238–240. 398 CA 140 = I.Erythr. 205.75-5; translation by Barbantani 2017, 345, with discussion of the double meaning of παῖς.

76

Greene

human laudandi.399 Such songs  – we have testimonia for seventeen  – were usually written for successful leaders or for members of the Hellenistic monarchies.400 Some especially seem to have drawn on a fundamental function of the traditional paean as a song welcoming a powerful figure who arrives in the role of “Savior”.401 For example, paeans are said to have been performed for Antigonus Monophthalmos and Demetrius Poliorcetes after their liberation of the Athenians in 307/6 (Ath. 15.51f 696a–697b).402 Later, even Romans earned the honor of being heralded with paeans, as we see in the Paean for Titus Flaminius.403 Only one such song for a leader survives relatively intact, the ithyphallic paean for Demetrius Poliorcetes, which was performed with great pomp and circumstance in 291 by the Athenians for yet another of his entrances into their city and which seems to have enjoyed informal reperformance (e.g., at symposia).404 Although dismissed by some twentieth-century scholars as “humdrum triviality” whose author is “no great loss to literature,” the song has found far more popularity in the last few decades with the reinvigorated interest in Hellenistic ruler cults.405 Its thirty-four surviving lines blatantly elevate Demetrius to divine status. He enters the city as the companion of Demeter (2-8), is figured throughout with Dionysian overtones, shines as the “sun” to the “stars” of his friends (9-12), and is addressed as the child of Poseidon and Aphrodite (13-14). Yet while other gods are far away, deaf, or don’t even exist (15-19), the song continues, Demetrius is alive and present (15-21). It concludes

399 The first known paean of this sort was for the Spartan general Lysander after his victory at Aegespotomi in 405 (867 PMG = 35 Käppel), though as Ford 2011, 84 notes, what we have is “little more than a chant – a triumphal cry at the defeat of an enemy harking back to one of the oldest attested uses of paeans as thanksgiving hymns for military victory.” 400 Barbantani 2017, 342–345 on the few fragments; Cameron 1995, 292–294 provides a full list. 401 On this characteristic, see, e.g., Käppel 1992, 43–45; Cameron 1995, 291–292; Rutherford 2001, 57–58 with 45–47; Barbantani 2017, 342–344. For discussion of Theocritus’ encomium for Ptolemy Philadelphus and its relationship to such praise and formulations of leaders, see Hunter 2003, esp. 8–14. 402 Barbantani 2018, 343, with Rutherford 2001, 57 n. 80. 403 CA 173; Kappel 1992, nr. 43; Barbantani 2017, 345. 404 Duris of Samos FGrH 76 F 13 = Ath.6.253d4-f8, where it is identified as a paean; just before this, Athenaeus provides Demochares’ (FGrH 75 F 2) description of the sumptuous procession and implies informal performance “at home” e.g., at symposia (Ath.6.253f9-10), on which see Bartol 2016, 510. On suggested author(s), see Bartol 2016, 509–510; Barbantani 2017, 343–344. 405 Quoting Ehrenberg 1946, 181 and 197. Compare the general ancient disdain for the song, on which see Bartol 2016, 506–507.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

77

with a prayer that he find an “Oedipus” to destroy the “Aetolian sphinx” plaguing their town, a reference to the Aetolian League (24-35). The song heaps a mass of religious and mythological imagery upon the audience in quick succession, geared, most agree, toward crafting the representation of Demetrius as a true god.406 Commentators also often observe the poem’s reflection of historical realities, e.g., the city Dionysia had been renamed after Demetrius (City Dionysia and Demetreia) and a decree had been passed guaranteeing him the same welcome accorded to Demeter and Dionysus during their yearly “visits” to the city.407 Beyond this, several scholars have recently adopted a variety of approaches to unravel the ways that the paean’s “mess” of images ultimately creates a “message,” as Versnel puts it.408 Green considers the poem from a philosophical standpoint and connects Demetrius’ presentness and effectiveness to the (Aristotelian) intellectual/political position that understands the practical benefits of an effective monarchy, particularly at a time witnessing an erosion of faith in traditional gods.409 Others adopt a more cultural-historical perspective and evaluate the mythological references with an eye toward contemporary cultural resonances.410 So being figured as the child of Aphrodite, for example, may not just reflect Demetrius’ good-looks and reputation as a lover, but instead, when coupled with the poem’s stellar imagery, evokes notions related to Ouranian Aphrodite and astronomy, thus intimating that Demetrius’ powers extend to the heavens themselves.411 Both Versnel and Chaniotis emphasize the religious saturation of the poem – its deployment of hymnic forms, the importance of epiphany, its reliance on core theological values – to meditate upon the idea of Demetrius being “made” a god, and the political and religious implications thereof.412 And, of course, there is the form of the poem itself. Ithyphallics are generally associated with Dionysus and dithyramb, and ancient testimony suggests that the song was sung by ithyphalloi in a “distinctly Dionysiac performance.”413 Thus we may, as Bartol does, read this Dionysian paean as an experiment in genre-mixing, whose Hellenistic flavor is matched by developed allusions to 406 Who, scholars regularly add, must justify their praise by fulfilling their wishes in true do et des hymnic fashion. 407 Cf., e.g., Green 2003, 262–266 for a thorough overview of the many privileges granted Demetrius. 408 Versnel 2011, 454. 409 Green 2003. Compare Marcovich 1988 on Epicurean elements in the song. 410 E.g., Henrichs 1999; O’Sullivan 2008. 411 Holton 2014. 412 Versnel 2011; Chaniotis 2011. 413 Chantiotis 2011, 168–169; so also Bartol 2016, 511–512.

78

Greene

Sophocles’ Oedipus the King.414 Recent scholarship, in sum, is considerable, varied, and reveals this piece of “humdrum triviality” to be engaged with Greek thought, politics, religion, and poetics in far more complex ways than previously allowed. Demetrius’ paean also throws into sharp relief the profound social, political, and cultural changes experienced by the Greek world in the latter parts of the fourth century. Only a few decades earlier, as Athenaeus argues in the Deipnosophists, a contributing factor to Aristotle’s flight from Athens in 323 was his indictment for impiety – for composing a paean for a mortal, his late father-in-law Hermias.415 The generic identity of the short song in dactyloepitrites now often called the Hymn to Arete or the Song/Paean for Hermias (PMG 842) was the topic of spirited debate among the learned banqueters in Deipnosophists – is it a sympotic paean, a hymn, a drinking song (skolion)? – initiating a scholarly argument that still continues today.416 Although Aristotle’s song was written in 340 and thus is hardly Hellenistic, its interactions with generic expectations can be seen as presaging Hellenistic poetics. Moreover, Ford’s recent discussion of the fluidity of its genre(s), which takes a methodologically-inclusive approach, offers scholars of later poetry a new way to think about generic relationships beyond Kreuzung der Gattungen.417 Ford’s reading pivots on the thesis that context determines – to an extent – the genre of a song.418 Evidence suggests that Aristotle’s composition may have been first sung by Hermias’ intimates, rendering it a hymn to the abstract Virtue performed in the man’s memory.419 But songs travel, and those who learned it for such an initial reason might then have sung it as a group to initiate or close a symposium, one of the traditional performative occasions for paeans outside of formal cult activity.420 In this case, the song became a sympotic paean. So also could it be sung during a symposium by a single

414 Bartol 2016. A full treatment of this song and that of Philodamus – to my mind quite different in its approach to a Dionysian paean – could prove fruitful. 415 Ath. 696a–697b. On the historicity of the account see Ford 2011 passim and Rutherford 2001, 92–97, with helpful discussion on improper paean-singing as a sign of impiety or indecency in the fourth century. 416 The modern bibliography is considerable; cf., e.g., Renehan 1982; Santoni 1993; LeVen 2014, 268–277. 417 Ford 2011. 418 So already Santoni 1993, who doesn’t limit the song’s generic identity as Ford ultimately does. 419 See Ford 2011, esp. 72–73 on encomia as they relate to hymns in fourth-century genre definitions; Santoni 1993 and LeVen 2014, 275–277 link the song to encomia. 420 Rutherford 2001, 50–52.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

79

voice, rendering it a monodic skolion.421 Ford’s detailed reading of the poem underscores that its style, semantic ambiguity, and themes lend themselves to multiple performance occasions and enable – or encourage – reperformance. Yet, Ford observes, accepting that context can determine and reshape generic identity doesn’t lead to a generic free-for-all. Rather, formal features and situational expectations limit mobility, rendering genre as “an anchor, a drag on free motion; and yet … an anchor that could be moved and set down in new places.” Thus, in his view, the song can be several things, but it cannot be all things.422 While Ford shows that Aristotle’s song has the capacity for (limited) generic transformation depending on context, we have clear proof that another lyric song did just that. Ariphron’s short but elegant monostrophic Paean to Health (PMG 813 = Käppel 34) in dactylo-epitrites thrived for centuries in multiple contexts.423 It appears in the Epidaurian “anthology” of inscribed songs (second/ third-century CE), as well as on the famous Kassel Stone in Athens (thirdcentury CE), thus testifying to its acceptance in cultic settings.424 Yet Athenaeus and his guests sing it at the close of Deipnosophists – precisely when one would traditionally sing a paean, despite the song lacking any clear paeanic markers – and Lucian describes it as a song “on everyone’s lips.”425 Building on Ford’s brief analysis of the piece as it compares to Aristotle’s song, LeVen connects its principal theme, praise of Hygeia, to traditional sympotic repertoire featuring gnomic statements about the goodness of health.426 However, LeVen argues, Ariphron enunciates his praise with prayer, second-person address, and evocation of charis through mention of the Charites, and in so doing introduces the theme of reciprocity and exchange so fundamental to cult song. Without any internal markers chaining it to a particular occasion, Ariphron’s song thus allows for its performance in multiple contexts. Indeed, the Paean continued to circulate, though its textualization seems to have resulted from its

421 Ford 2011, 69–90, esp. 86–89. 422 Ford 2011, 89–90. 423 The argument of Furley and Bremmer 2001, 1.226–227 for a Hellenistic date is persuasive. Cf. D’Alessio 2017, 248; Barbantani 2018, 102–103. Contrast LeVen 2014, 277–228 who supports a late classical date; Rutherford 2001, 37 gives it a late fifth-century date without discussion. See also Furley and Bremmer 2001, 2.175–180 for further general discussion. 424 Epidaurus: IG IV² 1.132; Athens: IG II² 4533. On the anthology, see Barbantani 2018, 106–107. 425 Ath. 15.701f–702b; Luc. de lapsu 6; other references include Maximus of Tyre (7.1a); Sext. Emp. Math. 11.49; Plut. Mor. 450b, 479a. Alonge 2011, 220–221 notes that many of the differences in various versions may not result from scribal error but oral transmission. 426 Ford 2011, 91–97; LeVen 2014, 277–282.

80

Greene

use in instruction and sung performance, as D’Alessio notes.427 It is included in the medieval Ottobanianus gr. 59, a musical instructional text containing several songs, including three by the Hadrianic-era composer and citharode Mesomedes of Crete with accompanying musical notation. This brings us, skipping over several centuries, to Mesomedes, a freedman of the Philhellene Hadrian and member of his literary circle.428 Mesomedes’ simple polymetric lyrics, which favor paroemiacs and apocrota, have historically been of little interest to scholars other than historians of ancient music, among whom he has met with a rather tepid reception.429 However, the modern audience for his small collection of songs is slowly growing. Thirteen songs for an eclectic mix of addressees survive, ranging from Helios, Nature (Physis), and Isis (2, 4, 5 Heitsch) to a sponge, a swan, and a gnat (9-11 Heitsch).430 Though affixed with hymnic-style titles, scholars generally suspect that those in the latter group (7-13 Heitsch), which draw on such forms as fable, riddles, and ecphrastic epigram, served as entertainment pieces designed for private performance, e.g., at symposia or similarly intimate occasions in the Hadrianic court.431 However, those in the first group (2-5 on Helios, Nemesis, Nature, Isis), praise addressees with language recalling earlier cult traditions, though they lack key conventional hymnic features like a central narrative. The classification and performance context of these songs is currently under debate. Furley and Bremmer categorize them as “philosophical” and “not cult texts in the true sense.”432 In her commentary on Hymn to Nature, Lanna offers spirited rebuttals that underscore the viability of a hymn being at once philosophical and cultic, and she stresses the songs’ liturgical language, representations of devotion, and their connections to similar configurations of divine power 427 D’Alessio 2017, 248–249. Cf. West 2004–2005, 162 on Mesomedes’ songs used for teaching young musicians the lyre. 428 On the popularity of poetry and hymns in the Second Sophistic, see, e.g., Bowie 1990, 83–84; Furley and Bremmer 2001, 1.24–25; Lanna 2013, 26–28 with bibliography. 429 E.g., West 1992a, 384; Landels 1999, 205; Mathiesen 1999, 57, though see Psaroudakis 2018, who demonstrates Mesomedes’ careful musical replication of verbal actions. For Mesomedes’ music in general, see Pöhlmann and West 2001, no. 24–31, 92–115; Hagel 2010, 287–289. 430 On the textual transmission and some dispute over the number of songs, see Regenauer 2015, 87–92, who offers the first modern edition and commentary on the corpus; Lanna 2013 provides text and commentary for the Hymn to Nature. 431 E.g., Fein 1994; 115; Power 2010, 215 (who suggests they could serve as prooimia to nomoi); Whitmarsh 2013, 158–159; Regenauer 2015, 77–79. 432 Furley and Bremmer 2001, 1.47. Regenauer 2015, 69–77 provides a detailed overview of this issue, allowing for cult performance in some cases. Many scholars admit some of them into cult or festival performance, but not all of them, e.g. Whitmarsh 2013, 158–159.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

81

in imperial-era cult inscriptions.433 Indeed, she and Regenauer both maintain that Orphic and Neo-Pythagorean cultic elements abound in the Hymn to Nature, and thus could allow for meaningful, religious performance of a “philosophical” hymn.434 Brumbaugh, however, approaches the songs from a literary perspective generally unconcerned with the question of their historical cult performance.435 He analyzes the songs’ structures and movements to trace Mesomedes’ approach to creating a dynamic narrative world, even without traditional hymnic narrative, and to fostering relationships with his honorand and audience, which Brumbaugh understands as the critical aspect of hymnic “narrative”. In this reading, Mesomedes exposes his awareness of traditional hymnic narrative forms through his deft and radical reworkings of those very conventions, ultimately situating his songs in the hymnic frame of reference, regardless of performance venue. Whitmarsh’s study of the songs, while admitting possible ritual contexts in some cases, instead interprets them as expressions related to imperial patronage and power (“patronal poetry”).436 For example, he reads Mesomedes’ repeated imagery of the pancosmic dominion and order to which the rest of existence submits (particularly the symbols of chariot and sun) as encouraging the audience to perceive themselves as subjects relative to a greater authority.437 Allegorical resonances with imperial power thus undergird the representations of the addressees and guide the community’s response to that power. Whitmarsh, however, emphasizes both that these resonances are never explicit – Mesomedes never even mentions Hadrian by name – and that images and topoi resist single acts of decoding.438 The sun never symbolizes only Hadrian. Rather, Mesomedes’ deceptively simple hymns operate on multiple levels and rely on polyvalent imagery that admits, but is not limited to, allegorical interpretations of their praise. Given the flourishing interest in the Second Sophistic and the dearth of preserved imperial-era Greek lyric, it is surprising that there aren’t more scholars studying Mesomedes beyond his music. Two detailed commentaries are 433 Lanna 2013, esp. 80–86. 434 E.g., line 20 characterizes the devotees as bacchants and calls the addressee “Paian,” which aligns with the Orphic understanding of Dionysus-Helios in terms of liberation/ salvation; Lanna 2013, 197–204; Regenauer 2015, 243–245. 435 Brumbaugh 2015. 436 Whitmarsh 2013, 154–175. Cf. Brumbaugh 2015, 182; Regenauer 2015 passim for further elaboration on themes Whitmarsh identifies. 437 Whitmarsh 2013, 160–168. 438 Whitmarsh 2013, 166, 175.

82

Greene

now available, and both Regenauer’s commentary and Whitmarsh’s chapter provide an excellent foundation for further exploration of the almost-entirely neglected occasional or sympotic songs (7-13 Heitsch), whose resonances with genres like ecphrastic epigram and literary fable provide considerable opportunities for future scholarship. 2.3 Literary Lyric Fantuzzi and Hunter’s evaluation of Hellenistic literary lyric has set the tone for many modern reactions to the small body of later poetry written in stichic lyric meters. Thus we often describe these poems as the products of “virtuoso experimentation” and as “archaeological revivals of archaic forms,” and scholars regularly note that post-classical lyrics, many with occasional, seriocomic, or ludic qualities, tend to exist on the margins of a literary, text-based poetics dominated by hexameters and elegiacs.439 Yet the last few decades have also witnessed growing interest in, and serious reconsideration of, these poems despite their apparently experimental and marginal natures. For example, even the scandalously satirical verses of Sotades, whose subversive attack on Ptolemaic sibling marriage (CA 1 and 16) was reconstructed by Pretagostini in 1984, have been subject to reassessment.440 Pretagostini’s follow-up essay underscored fr. 16’s political, rather than simply sexual, associations with autocratic rule and the hubris of a tyrant, a stance that recalls Cynical political and moralizing criticism.441 In turn, this has led to Kwapisz’s reevaluation of Sotades and sotadeans in didactic and moralizing terms.442 Such reconsiderations of post-classical literary lyric continue to appear; in some cases, like that of the Anacreontea, interest has exploded. Thus this section surveys recent research on a selection of these poems, scholarship which tends to focus on such issues as the poems’ textuality, their engagement with archaic and other literary traditions, and their performative qualities or relationships with performed poetry.

439 Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004, 17–41, esp. 28 (quotation) and 37–41. At p. 39 Fantuzzi and Hunter provide a helpful list of epigrams in melic and iambic meters, though they do not seem to have been studied as a group except by Dale 2010, who focuses on their place and transmission in epigram anthologies. 440 Sotades’ verses were written in a meter of his own invention that parodied didactic and was named for him; sotadeans were “catalectic Ionic tetrameters a maiore, with frequent anaclasis,” Fantuzzi and Hunter 2004, 38. On sotadeans as inversions or distortions of dactylic, see Bettini 1982, 66–69. 441 Pretagostini 2007 [1991], 135–138, with 139–148. 442 Kwapisz 2009 and 2016.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

83

Certainly, the most conspicuous lyric “experiments” are the polymetric figure poems (technopaegnia or carmina figurata). Their dates span from the early Hellenistic period through the imperial period, beginning with their apparent invention by the early Hellenistic scholar-poet Simias of Rhodes (Axe, Wings, Egg), followed by the third/second-century pseudo-Theocritean author of the hexametric Syrinx, and the possibly second-century CE compositions of one “Dosiades” (Doric Altar) and Lucius Iulius Vestinus (Ionic Altar).443 Truly a product of book culture, the figure poems’ execution relies on the manipulation of lyric meters and line arrangement to visually represent on the page the shapes that give each poem its modern title.444 Thus Simias’ Wings is achieved by expanding and compressing a choriambic base with bacchiac clausulae to create lines that lengthen and shorten to form the image of Eros’ wings: Λεῦσσέ με τὸν Γᾶς τε βαθυστέρνου ἄνακτ’, Ἀκμονίδαν τ’ ἄλλυδις ἑδράσαντα, μηδὲ τρέσῃς, εἰ τόσος ὢν δάσκια βέβριθα λάχνᾳ γένεια· τᾶμος ἐγὼ γὰρ γενόμαν, ἁνίκ’ ἔκραιν’ Ἀνάγκα, πάντα δὲ τᾶς εἶκε φραδαῖσι λυγραῖς ἑρπετά, πάνθ’ ὅσ’ εἷρπε δι’ αἴθρας. Χάους δέ, οὔτι γε Κύπριδος παῖς ὠκυπέτας ἠδ’ Ἄρεος καλεῦμαι, οὔτι γὰρ ἔκρανα βίᾳ, πραϋνόῳ δὲ πειθοῖ· εἶκε δέ μοι γαῖα, θαλάσσας τε μυχοί, χάλκεος οὐρανός τε· τῶν δ’ ἐγὼ ἐκνοσφισάμαν ὠγύγιον σκᾶπτρον, ἔκρινον δὲ θεοῖς θέμιστας. Gaze upon me, the ruler of the deep-bosomed Earth, and the one who sent the son of Acmon apart, do not run in fear if, being such a size as I am, my bushy cheeks are laden with down. For when I was born then, when Necessity governed and all things gave way to her baneful warnings, 443 On Simias’ philological scholarship and its critical relationship to his poetry, see Kwapisz 2018; cf. Sistakou 2007, 391–408. I use the tentative dates of Kwapisz 2013, 21–30; cf. Guichard 2006 and Palumbo 2007, 129 for other suggestions. 444 The recent bibliography is considerable. Recent editions/commentary provided by: Strodel 2002 (Simias’ poems with a vital review of the textual tradition which provide a persuasive proof against the assertion of Cameron 1995, 33–38 that Simias’ Axe and Wings were not figure poems); Kwapisz 2013 (full edition and commentary on all six poems and updated bibliography). Critical studies include: Palumbo 2003 and 2007; Guichard 2006; Männlein-Robert 2007, 140–154; Luz 2008; Luz 2010, 327–353; Squire 2013; Pappas 2013; Kwapisz 2018.

84

Greene

those that creep, all things, as many as creep through the air. But the child of Chaos and not at all of Cypris nor the swift flying child of Ares am I called; for in no way did I govern by force, but by gentle-minded persuasion and to me yielded the earth and the folds of the sea and the bronze sky; and from them, I took a primeval scepter and determined divine laws for the gods.445 Such interplay between metrics and image has propelled modern research on the figure poems, which understands most of them as inspired by or at least recalling votive and ecphrastic epigram.446 They especially reflect literary epigrams that describe absent objects, as they self-consciously contrive to construct the impression of materiality both through their verbal descriptions of absent objects and, going one step further than epigrams, through their pictographic representations of the objects themselves.447 The images and their descriptions are often formulated to challenge readers; thus, the speaking wings never explicitly disclose to whom they belong, prompting the reader to follow the poem’s clues to arrive at an answer. Consequently, several scholars link figure poems to popular forms of literary riddles and to other riddling poetry, particularly that of Lycophron.448 Yet even as they guide readers to solutions, the poems regularly rely on misdirection rooted in the “reading” of their forms. Pappas, approaching them from the perspective of reader-response to epigrams, argues that they ultimately contrive to thwart reader expectations and to “destabilize” the act of reading.449 She interprets Wings as encouraging readers to initially envision the wings’ owner as the cherubic Eros so popular in Hellenistic poetry and art, the child of Ares and Aphrodite, only for them to discover at the midpoint (7) that this is the Eros born from Chaos.450 Even more fascinating is Dosiades’ Doric Altar, which asks readers to solve its mythological riddles in order to identify it, eventually, as the very altar which Philoctetes was viewing when a snake bit him for the 445 Text: Kwapisz 2013; translation: Pappas 2013. 446 E.g., Strodel 2002, 269–270; Guichard 2006, 90–91; Luz 2010; Pappas 2013; Kwapisz 2013, 11–12. Männlein-Robert 2007, 144 highlights the secularization of the consecratory votive context. 447 Kwapisz 2013, 12; cf. Pappas 2013, 211. See Squire 2013 on epigram, ecphrasis, and the play with image in the figure poems. 448 The figure poems’ links to riddles or griphoi are regularly noted by commentators. See especially Luz 2010, 327–353, passim; cf. Kwapisz 2013, esp. 20–21. On ancient riddle traditions and books, see Kwapisz 2013b. 449 Pappas 2013; cf. Squire 2013 on visual impact. See Männlein-Robert 2007, 142–150 and Luz 2008 on reading Egg’s axial symmetricality of verses. 450 Kwapisz 2013, 91–92, 97–99, 102 on the description of Eros.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

85

transgression. Thus readers realize – too late – that they, like Philoctetes, are gazing upon that which is forbidden.451 Recent scholarship stresses the relationships between the poems’ more sophisticated literary qualities and their forms. Männlein-Robert reads Egg as a complex metapoetic meditation on the process of modern poetic composition and circulation. This process begins with the literalization of the popular “poet-as-nightingale” topos and its birthing of the egg/poem (1-6), whose existence as both poem and egg is actualized on the page by its pictographic form. In turn, Hermes, whom Männlein-Robert reads as an allegory for writing, transports the egg from its mother/author and ultimately releases it for the people, that is, for readers.452 Other scholars focus on allusion and stylistic relationships; Palumbo and Kwapisz, for example, explore Syrinx’s extensive, multi-faceted relationship with Theocritean bucolic, which in turn is complicated by the poem’s much-discussed Lycophronian-style riddling qualities.453 Kwapisz’s commentary especially approaches the poems from a literary perspective, and offers new readings and support for existing ones that highlight their Callimachus-like engagement with a spectrum of works, including epic, elegy, lyric, and others. Particularly interesting is the suggestion that Wings – whose double structure seems complemented by the paradoxical duality of a simultaneously old and youthful Eros – responds to Platonic representations of Eros as dual-natured.454 In sum, although the poems are anomalous, visuallyarresting pieces of self-consciously novel literature, recent studies underscore that they are still very much literature in the truly “Hellenistic” sense.455 Another literary work in a stichic melic meter blatantly advertises its transference of lyric to the page. Philicus of Corcyra, a priest of Dionysus under Ptolemy Philadelphus and the only known Alexandrian literati who was also a member of the technitai, composed a Hymn to Demeter wherein he proclaims that it “bring(s) gifts of Philicus’ innovatively-written composition to you, grammatikoi” (καινογράφου συνθέσεως τῆς Φιλίκου, γραμματικοί, δῶρα φέρω 451 Pappas 2013, 214–215. 452 Männlein-Robert 2007, 144–150, with discussion of the mother bird as representing the orality of poetry; cf. Luz 2008; Luz 2010, 336–341 for other metapoetic interpretations. Cf. Kwapisz 2013, 106–137, who argues that the poem is a non-figure sphragis that focuses upon itself and its “own poetic singularities.” 453 Palumbo 2007; Kwapisz 2013, esp. 28, 138–141, with thoughts on Lycophron as the possible author and discussion of the historical attribution to Theocritus. 454 Kwapisz 2013, 91–105, whose discussion on Plato and other models displaces the traditional – and problematic – Orphic readings of the poem. Cf. Strodel 2002, 208. 455 Figure poems have a long subsequent history; see the seminal Ernst 1991 and the comprehensive Ernst, Ehlen, and Gramatzki 2012.

86

Greene

πρὸς ὑμᾶς, SH 677).456 His boast has long been seen as an overstatement, since his innovation only consists of writing an entire poem in choriambic hexameter, a meter Simias had already used in Axe.457 As Philicus gestures to that poem repeatedly, we can at least be confident he was well aware of his exaggeration.458 Aside from this, studies have observed Philicus’ innovations upon hymnic conventions. For example, his address to the grammatikoi is likely paired in the prooimion with a triple dedication “of the gifts which concern the mysteries” (μυστικὰ … τὰ δῶρα) to “Demeter of the nether world, Persephone, and Clymenus” (SH 676).459 Whereas conventional hymns typically leave unstated their audience of listeners/readers, Philicus links the grammatikoi explicitly with the three gods, thus collapsing the traditional hymnic practice of restricting direct initial address to the divine audience, as Danielewicz has recently argued.460 Several contemporary scholars provide sensitive readings of the fragments, particularly those about Demeter’s meeting with the famous Iambe, which stress both their learned and playful elements, especially Philicus’ combination of “high” and the “low” poetic registers, his treatment of Attic geography and aetiology, and the poem’s seriocomic tone.461 Especially noteworthy are recent studies’ reflection of the more general scholarly movement away from the instant encapsulation of hymns as either “literary” or “cultic”.462 While most scholars do not envision cult performance for the poem,463 its relationship 456 Philicus’ membership in the technitai is attested by Ath. 5.196a and 198b-c (= Callixeinus FGrH 627 F 2), which records that he marched with the technitai in the 279/8 and 275/4 grand processions of the Ptolemaea; cf. Provenzale 2009, 43. 457 C.f. Heph. Encheiridion 9.4, p. 30 Cornsbruch. 458 Danielewicz 2015, 144–145; cf. Kwapisz 2018. 459 Several scholars note this recalls the triple dedication in the archaic asigmatic Hymn to Hermionian Demeter of Lasus (PMG 702), on which see most recently Giuseppetti 2012, 117–119; cf. Danielewicz 2015, 142–145 on connections to hymnic convention and epigram. The placement of SH 677, however, is debated. Hephaestion located it in the beginning and is supported, contra Lloyd-Jones and Parsons (SH), by Provenzale 2009, 68; Bowie 2015, 90; Danielewicz 2015, 138–142, who reviews the many different renderings of the line. Giuseppetti 2012, 117, argues for placing it at the end of the poem. 460 Danielewicz 2015, esp. 142. 461 Furley 2009; Provenzale 2009; Giuseppetti 2012; Bowie 2015; Danielewicz 2015. Giuseppetti and Bowie’s analyses offer instructive interpretations of Philicus’ geography and aetiology. Fantuzzi 2007, considers the poem and the ancient reception of Philicus’ poetry as reflected in SH 980. 462 So Brown, 1990: “… the distinction between cult-poetry and literary-poetry is itself problematic, for the relationship between them is often very close.” See below on Callimachus. 463 Though see Furley 2009, 490–501 for the possibility, and for potential connections to Ptolemaic cult and ideology.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

87

to religious practice, song, and performance has become a point of interest. Giuseppetti, for example, wonders about the possibility of initiatory and ritual connections in light of Philicus’ role as priest of Dionysus as well as the marked term μυστικὰ in SH 676.464 Bowie takes a different approach and offers a detailed comparison of the hymn to the paeans of Philodamus and Limenius (above, section 2.2.1). Here he tracks multiple ways that Philicus diverges from performed hymnic style in terms of narrative, spatial movement, and speech. Most importantly, Philicus gives multiple characters distinct voices, whereas the performed songs focus almost entirely on the praying voice of the chorus, though the spatial dimensions of their narratives are far less circumscribed.465 Bowie’s study thus doesn’t blur the boundary between performed and literary lyric; rather, its approach offers an example of productive ways to better understand it. Issues of textuality, tradition, and performance also encompass much of the modest current research on Callimachus’ four main lyric poems.466 Called Μέλη by scholarly convention,467 these fragmentary occasional poems in different meters engage with a variety of archaic lyric types and come to us attached to Callimachus’ Iambi, along with the commentary of a diegete. Fr. 226 Pf., to which has been affixed the dubious title On Beautiful Boys, recalls the story of the Lemnian women in phalacean endecasyllables and may reflect pederastic or symposiastic themes; only a single line survives.468 The symposium is also the locus of fr. 227 Pf., the Pannychis (“All-Nighter”), set during an all-night festival for the Dioscuri wherein the narrator also “hymns Helen”.469 The so-called Apotheosis of Arsinoe (fr. 228 Pf.) is the most complete of the four.470 As it commemorates the death and subsequent apotheosis of Arsinoe, who died in 270, some scholars suggest that the poem draws on lyric threnos 464 Giuseppetti 2012, 119–124. Cf. Fantuzzi 2007 for further on initiatory language, especially in the epigram about Philicus (SH 980). 465 Bowie 2015. 466 Lelli 2005 is the standard edition and commentary; D’Alessio 2007⁴ and Asper 2004 both include text, notes, and translations (Italian and German). Pfeiffer’s 1949 enumeration remains standard. Acosta-Hughes 2003 provides critical commentary on the poems as a group. 467 The Suda records that Callimachus composed μέλη; Pfeiffer cautiously assigned these fragments to that group, though scholars remain somewhat skeptical of the attribution. 468 Lelli 2005, 27–33, 125–130. 469 Dieg. 10.7-8 Pf. (1.217). Lelli 2005, 33–46, with observations of possible models and Ptolemaic overtones, and 130–151. See Bravo 1997 on such gatherings, with commentary on this fragment at 101–117. 470 P. Berol. 13417 preserves 75 lines. See Austin 2006, 58 n. 12, who published the plates of the papyrus with critical commentary and suggested supplementations.

88

Greene

(songs of lament) in stichic archebouleions, a historically choral meter that Acosta-Hughes and Stephens observe seems particularly associated with contexts of death and the underworld.471 As with the court poems of Berenice in the Aetia, scholars tend to interpret fr. 228 as a poetic reflection of Ptolemaic concerns through the evocation of resonant poetic models. So Andromache’s perception of Hector’s death serves as an analogue for Arsinoe’s sister’s observation of the late queen’s pyre, and gestures to Odyssey 4 link Arsinoe, Egypt, and the figure of Helen, thus further legitimizing the Ptolemies against the backdrop of mytho-history and connecting ruler cult to traditional Homeric kingship.472 The Branchus (fr. 229 Pf.), in stichic catalectic choriambic pentameters, recalls, according to the diegete, the story of Apollo’s beloved seer Branchus and his foundation of the cult of Apollo at Didyma, which had submitted itself to Ptolemaic protection in the 270s.473 Recent studies draw attention to the poem’s connection to paeans in terms of content and tone, e.g., it features a prayer to Apollo in his capacity as a healing god.474 Given the interminable dispute about what a paean actually is – not to mention the hazards of confining any Callimachean poem to being just one thing – its formal generic identity rather depends upon whom one consults.475 The majority of scholarship on these poems has not focused upon interpretation, but upon the possibility that they should be identified as the final four works in Callimachus’ book of Iambi. Several arguments in favor of the theory have been offered, including the lack of a break between the Μέλη and Iambi in the Diegesis and some manuscripts, the songs’ metrical and topical affinities with various Iambi, and especially the evidence of Horace’s seventeen

471 Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2017, 235. Acosta-Hughes 2019, 7. 472 Di Benedetto 1994 provides the seminal discussion of the poem and Iliad 23. Lelli 2005, 46–71 adduces other poetic treatments of Arsinoe and identifies elegiac and tragic moments in the fragments; commentary at 151–195. Prioux 2011 considers fr. 228 in concert with Callimachus’ other poems for Ptolemaic women. Acosta-Hughes 2019 provides an updated overview and discussion of other possible models (e.g., Sappho), to be read with Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012, 108–111; cf. Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2017, 234–237, which highlights the connections to Helen and Ptolemaic concerns. 473 Lelli 2005, 71–80 (with historical overview at 76–80) and 195–214. 474 Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2017, 241–242. Cf. Rutherford 2001, 128; Dale 2010–2011, 370 n. 40; Barbantani 2017, 364. See the introductory discussion of Lelli 2005 for a history of interpretations, particularly discussion of possible pederastic elements. 475 Compare similar discussions on Callimachus’ second Hymn as a paean, e.g., Rutherford 2001, 128–130; Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012, 113–115 and 2017, 237–241; Petrovic 2011; Lightfoot 2018; Sheppard 2018.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

89

Epodes, whose number could be explained by a book of seventeen Iambi.476 There has been no concrete conclusion, and the debate seems to have fizzled. Asper’s circumspect appraisal, to my mind, remains the most productive: “The cautious Callimachean should  … conceive of the subsequent four poems as independent single poems … nothing really is gained by looking at the four poems in question as iambs … therefore, one has to deal with them as autonomous poems anyway.”477 Yet one benefit of the dispute has been our better understanding of how the four songs relate to each other, as demonstrated by Acosta-Hughes’ detailed analysis. Among the many links he identifies are the shared erotic overtones and likely sympotic settings of frr. 226 and 227, the complementary appearances of the Dioscuri and Helen in frr. 227 and 228, and the evocation of more formal occasions with Ptolemaic political and religious connections in frr. 228 and 229.478 Clearly, care was taken in their organization, whether the editor was Callimachus himself or otherwise. The fragments of the Apotheosis of Arsinoe, Pannychis, and Branchus all contain elements that hint at performance. For example, the narrative voice of Pannychis opens the song with the claim that he “hears the lyre” (1). Is this pretense? Historically, most scholars have assumed the Μέλη to be mimetic literary works that only evoke performance occasions and ritual events, an impression encouraged by the stichic (and thus unsung) use of lyric meters.479 This may well have been the case. However, much like recent scholars who question the binary division between poetry of the book and poetry of performance, particularly in the case of Callimachus’ so-called “mimetic” Hymns,480 so too do Acosta-Hughes and Stephens challenge the immediate rejection of these songs’ potential for performance. They identify multiple opportunities for live recitation and note that three of the four poems can be connected to specific locations or occasions where performances took place (e.g. the funereal celebrations for Arsinoe, the temple of Apollo at Didyma where the Molpoi sang paeans).481 More importantly, however, they emphasize that even 476 The most recent voices include Cameron 1995, 169–173; D’Alessio 2007 [1996], 1.43–45 and 2.656–673; Kerkhecker 1999, 271–282; Acosta-Hughes 2003, Lelli 2005, esp. 1–19; Antunez 2007, 27–32; Acosta-Hughes 2019, 14. 477 Asper 2007. 478 Acosta-Hughes 2003, who observes many other connections between the four poems and with other Callimachean poetry. 479 Though Lelli 2005, 35, 40–42 and Antunez 2007 both suggest sympotic performance of the Pannychis. 480 Recently, e.g., Petrovic 2007; Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012, 107–116; Vestrheim 2012; Barbantani 2018, esp. 86-87 and 113–115; Gramps 2018. 481 Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012, 110–113 and 2017, 241–242. See Rutherford 2001, 60 and 128; D’Alessio 2016 on the Molpoi.

90

Greene

if the poems were truly intended only for the page, Callimachus does not just reimagine performance contexts of times long gone by.482 Rather, his evocation of occasions reflects and relies upon the broad spectrum of experiences of lyric, including live performance, that his modern Alexandrian audience would have had: … Each of these poems is constructed to have an authentic moment of performance, through which Callimachus rehearses past moments of performance, whether literary  … or in terms of social practice  …, thus connecting events specific or relevant to Alexandria [like the death of Arsinoe and the refoundation of the temple of Apollo at Didyma] both to earlier and to contemporary Greek ritual and lyric practice.483 Compared to Callimachus, Theocritus’ forays into stichic lyric meters approach issues of textuality and performance from a markedly different perspective. His “Aeolic idylls,” Idylls 28–31, are written in Aeolic dialect and meters associated with the strophic monodies of Sappho and Alcaeus, with all but Idyll 29 in greater asclepiadeans (“Sapphic sixteen-syllable”), which had a history of fairly consistent use from the archaic period through the Hellenistic period.484 In contrast, the Aeolic pentameter (“Sapphic fourteen-syllable”) of Idyll 29 is a true fossil of the archaic past.485 Idyll 29 further stands out because of its attempt, in Prauscello’s words, to make “musical mimicry without music,” that is, to recall, recreate, and modernize the effects and functions of the music of archaic strophic lyric in written form.486 Prauscello’s contribution to the much-discussed “search for strophes” in Theocritean poetry demonstrates that Idyll 29 consistently matches syntactic structure and distichic scansion, with enjambments only happening “within the boundaries of supposed couplets and never across stanza-end.”487 In other words, rhythmic pauses never infringe upon sense-groups, creating the effect of strophic distichs. Ironically, however, this stringent avoidance of enjambments between distichs diverges from the more fluid and variable approach of Sappho and Alcaeus, whose songs 482 Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012, 110–112 and 145–147. 483 Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2012, 112. 484 Gow 1952 remains the primary edition and commentary. On the organization of these Idylls in the Antinoe codex, which seems to anthologize them (along with Idyll 22) as a collection of Lesbian lyric, see Gutzwiller 1995, 139–142. On the meters, see Fassino and Prauscello 2001; Hunter 1996, 172–173. 485 Prauscello 2006, 207, building on Fassino and Prauscello 2001. 486 Prauscello 2006, 185–213. 487 Prauscello 2006, 207–208 and 210–211. Cf. Hunter 1996, 172–173.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

91

instead could depend upon the accompanying music to help convey strophic structure.488 Thus, when attempting to imitate the nuances of archaic lyric performance in written form, Theocritus’ “strophes” are rendered artificial and distant from the practice of his models. That he only made such textual music once suggests he found the approach unsatisfactory.489 The obsolete meter of Idyll 29, paired with an opening quotation of Alcaeus, alerts the reader immediately to the complex interactions with the archaic lyric tradition that permeate the poem.490 The first of two paidika, Idyll 29 stages a rather lecherous narrator’s attempt to woo a younger man by invoking a constellation of images and topoi derived from archaic lyric (particularly the verses of Alcaeus and Theognis’ pederastic songs), as Pretagostini outlines.491 From the exaltation of the paideutic function of homosexual love to warnings about the fleetingness of youth, the Theocritean narrator ransacks the archaic poetic tradition in his appeal to their authority. Hunter, however, stresses that the narrator consistently undermines his own archaic and classical models; for example, the paideutic and ethical dimensions of the relationships he so praises are compromised by his obvious focus on physical pleasure (16, 25).492 In ironizing the narrator’s misunderstanding of the very archaic and classical pederastic traditions he invokes, Hunter concludes, Theocritus highlights the distance between the past and the contemporary world, and thus “the unreality of the speaker’s wishes.”493 All the Aeolic idylls recall the archaic past through their meters, and all, as the near-simultaneous publications of Pretagostini and Hunter maintain, evoke that past to reflect their own modernity.494 Most studies, therefore, focus upon the interpretation of Theocritus’ evocations of and adaptations to his archaic and classical models.495 A recent study by Sistakou, however, considers Theocritus’ corpus from the perspective of the modern lyric mode, which allows for a rather different appreciation of the poet’s relationship 488 489 490 491 492

Prauscello 2006, esp. 200–202. Prauscello 2006, 213. On which see especially Hunter 1996, 174–175 and Acosta-Hughes 2010, 110–114. Pretagostini 1997. Hunter 1996, 174–181, esp. 179, with emphasis throughout on the layering of archaic and classical models. 493 Hunter 1996, 181: “The attempt to recreate the past, whether in form or in ethos, can never be more than a partial and distorting mimesis.” 494 Pretagostini 1995 and 1997 and Hunter 1996. 495 Most important are Morrison 2007, 245–260, which evaluates Theocritus’ use of archaic narrative styles and strategies (e.g., quasi-biography and pseudo-intimacy) and Acosta-Hughes 2010, 107–122, which focuses upon the Aeolic Idylls’ interactions with Sappho and Alcaeus.

92

Greene

with his lyric past and present. Idyll 28, for example, features a narrator – the “lyric I” – addressing the distaff he is about to transport to the wife of a friend far off in Miletus. Sistakou interprets the poem as drawing on the intimate “I-you” format of communication that we see in archaic poetic representations of the narrator and his close male companions.496 Although the poem emphasizes the geographical distance between the “lyric I” and his friends, Sistakou understands written communication as nonetheless rendering the “I-you” relationship far more exclusive and individualized than what we find in sympotic archaic lyric performed for a group of intimates. Rather like we see in Hellenistic epigram, to which this poem has been compared, Theocritus’ “modern” lyrical intimacy becomes a textualized experience.497 In sharp contrast to Theocritus and his textualization of lyric is Cercidas of Megalopolis (ca. 290 BCE–last quarter of the third century), who invented the meliamb, a genre of iambus in a melic meter perhaps best understood as related to dactylo-epitrite.498 As the few scholars who discuss Cercidas agree, this new type of poetry unites high and low registers typically associated with iambic and lyric into an energetic and spontaneous-seeming but easily understood form that unites obvious learning,499 vigorous and daring language,500 and a moralizing, seriocomic voice bent on ethical instruction (e.g. the value of frugality, the dangers of greed) that resonates with Cynic diatribes. Cercidas’ biography likewise features the union of surprising elements. Though he was a member of the city’s elite and an active statesman in a time of great upset in Megalopolis, he is also emphatically described on the roll of his single surviving papyrus (P.Oxy. 1082) as “Cercidas the Dog” (= Cercidas the

496 Sistakou 2017c, 298–300, with comparisons to Idylls 11 and 13; cf. 305–306 on Idylls 29 and 30. 497 Sistakou 2017c, 300; cf. Hunter 1996, 174 with Cairns 1976 on similarities to epigram. 498 Livrea 1986 (= Liv.) and Lomiento 1993 (= Lom.) provide editions (which often do not agree) and commentaries; cf. Rosen 2017 for edition and short commentary on Mel. 1 and 2 Liv. The metrics of the poems have long been an issue and are best addressed by López Cruces and Campos Daroca 1994; cf. West 1982, 140, and the commentaries. For perspective on Cercidas’ relationship to Hellenistic iambic poetry, see most recently Scodel 2010. 499 Cercidas evokes Homer, Euripides, and Zeno by name, and interactions with the likes of Callimachus, Theocritus, and Asclepiades have been identified; see Lomiento 1993, 35–37 for an overview. Cf. Guasti 2019 for discussion of his evocation of Hipponax. 500 So in Mel. 1.7-8 Liv./1.46-47 Lom. the narrator calls a miser “the usurer-of-counterfeit-filth and dead-penny-grasper,” (ῥυποκιβδοτόκωνα καὶ τεθνακοχαλκίδαν) as translated by Scodel 2010, 259; compare Williams 2006, 350. In addition to comic coloring, Williams 2006, 351 and Gutzwiller 2007, 140 note the possible influence of New Music, which remained popular in Arcadia, on which see, e.g., Prauscello 2009.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

93

Cynic) and several fragments reflect Cynical concerns or ideas.501 Given that odd pairing (a Cynic active in politics!), and in light of the tattered state of P.Oxy. 1082, the majority of recent scholarship on Cercidas gravitates toward textual reconstruction and exegesis, as well as debates about the quality of his brand of Cynicism and the ways his poetry may reflect it.502 A simple example of the latter illustrates the very different readings his fragments can generate. Mel. 2 Liv. draws on a lost play of Euripides to describe, in maritime terms, the two types of love, one calm and one stormy (which should be avoided). The fragment ends with a proverb (2.31–2 = fr. 7 Lom.): τὸ] τᾶς ῥ[ικνᾶς χελώνας μναμόν]ευ’· οἶκος [γὰρ ἄριστος ἀλαθέως καὶ φίλο[ς]. [πάρ]εστ’ ἀεί. (“Remember the saying of the wrinkled tortoise in the ground: ‘Home is truly best, it’s always there and dear.’”).503 Scodel follows several earlier commentators in reading the idiom as veiled praise of masturbation, which the great Cynic Diogenes himself once advocated as an act in accordance with Nature.504 Livrea and Williams, however, read the image of the tortoise as symbolizing “the virtues of a settled home life.” This, they suggest, may reflect Cercidas’ concern for social stability in postwar Megalopolis.505 Scholars generally consult the only recent monograph on Cercidas, the study of J.L. López Cruces, for its biographical reconstructions of Cercidas’ life and for its downplaying of the poet’s Cynicism, in contrast to Livrea 1986. However, López Cruces’ exploration of the performative dimensions of the meliambs, focused on the third-century symposium as a locus for free speech, ethical exhortation, and the cultivation of wisdom, seems, so far as I can tell, to have been overlooked.506 Perhaps it is time to consider the performative potential of the meliambs again. The current trajectory of the field toward understanding literary Hellenistic poetry outside the ivory tower provides ample space for such studies, and Cercidas’ position as an active public figure beyond the immediate ambit of the Hellenistic monarchs offers a fascinating contrast to the more “canonical” representatives of Hellenistic poetry. 501 E.g. Mel. 60 Lom. (= Diog. Laert. 6.76–77) which narrates the heroic catasterism of Diogenes. 502 E.g., Livrea 1986 focuses heavily on his Cynicism (cf. especially on Mel. 1); López Cruces 1995, admits the possibility he was a Cynic, but largely argues against over-emphasizing it, while Lomiento 1993, esp. 26–31, argues that third-century Cynicism did not preclude active community participation or restrict itself to lower classes. For various discussions, see, e.g., Livrea 1987; López Cruces 1991; Moles 1995; Williams 2002; López Cruces 2004; Williams 2006; Scodel 2010; López Cruces 2018. 503 Translation by Scodel 2010, 261. 504 Scodel 2010, 261; cf. Knox 1929, 204–205. On Diogenes, see Diog. Laert. 6.46. 505 Williams 2006, 351–352, with Livrea 1986, 65–67 and 89–93; Williams 1994, 76–80. 506 López Cruces 1995, 139–186.

94

Greene

Our last case of post-classical literary lyric rather constitutes a genre in itself, and has recently generated considerable excitement and a sudden burst of scholarship, with nearly every significant study completed in the last forty years (and much of it in the last ten). After a long period of scholarly indifference, interest in the Carmina Anacreontea (CA), sixty poems preserved in a 10th-century anthology, arose with the late-twentieth-century publication of West’s Teubner edition, Campbells’ Loeb edition, and the literary study of Rosenmeyer, and has only grown since then.507 The Carmina Anacreontea, written over the course of many centuries, likely starting in the Hellenistic period and continuing through the sixth century CE, were composed by anonymous poets all striving to “imitate Anacreon” (τὸν ’Ανακρέοντα μιμοῦ, 60α.7).508 To them, this generally meant composing subtle poetry, divorced from any contemporary or historical context, focused upon wine, love, and song in anacreontic and hemiambic meters.509 Considerable research traces the earlier reception of Anacreon’s archaic lyric poetry, from fifth-century drama and art to Hellenistic epigrams and onward, so as to understand the ways that the reception of Anacreon ultimately culminates in the anacreontics’ vision of his works as defined by – or reduced to – a symposiastic and erotic poetic program.510 507 West 1993 [1984] is the principal critical edition; Campbell 1988; Rosenmeyer 1992. Other “early” studies include Danielewicz 1986 and Bartol 1993. Zotou 2014 is a critical edition and commentary on the earlier CA (1–32). The literary study of Lambin 2002 comments on nearly every poem; Müller 2010 offers a “poetological commentary” on every poem; Guichard 2012 (Greek/Spanish translation) with commentary (non vidi); Bär et al. 2014 (Greek/German translation) with short commentary. Baumbach and Dümmler 2014 collects several significant essays. 508 Scholars generally divide the series in the collection in the same way, with some minor variations. The earlier songs are most of those in 1–20 and 21–34, and then the latter portion (35–60), which West 1984, xvi–xviii divides into two groups. See, e.g., Rosenmeyer 1992, 1–11; Lambin 2002, 24–36; Baumbach and Dümmler 2014, 3–4 with n. 8. I follow later editors, here Bär et al. 2014, in dividing 60 contra West 1984. 509 So Most 2014, 150: in the CA “drinking, singing, and desiring are metonymically interchangeable.” For these and other themes and images of the CA, see, e.g., Danieliwicz 1986, 45–49; Rosenmeyer 1992, 94–144, and the list in CA 5. On the poems’ lack of historical context, see especially Müller 2010, 121–123. Lambin 2002, however, understands the appeal of writing anacreontic verse as responding to the political environments of empire and later Christianity. 510 Foundational discussion in Rosenmeyer 1992, 12–73 who traces Anacreon’s reception and then argues for the anacreontics’ reduced representation of what Anacreon’s poetry was. Müller 2010, 49–120 offers a systematic and comprehensive history of Anacreon’s reception that argues against intentional reduction of Anacreon on the part of the anacreontics. For Anacreon in Athenian drama, see especially Bing 2014. Gutzwiller 2014 provides a thorough treatment of his reception in Hellenistic epigrams.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

95

Deceptively simple in tone but sophisticated in composition, the CA offers a variety of avenues for study. As differences in scholarly responses often overlap but pivot on individual poems and readings, I only highlight a few main topics of current interest. Explorations of the dynamics of mimesis and imitatio often take center stage, for the poems regularly thematize their imitative and derivative qualities, as we see in the dream-sequence opening (CA 1) wherein the narrator “becomes” Anacreon through a symbolic investiture by the figure of Anacreon himself.511 Here, as throughout the collection, we may observe as Rosenmeyer does that the CA’s “imitation” of Anacreon comes without competitive emulation; the poets do not evoke Anacreon with an eye toward superseding their model but to equaling him.512 Müller offers a different perspective, arguing that the CA is not engaged with true mimesis or imitatio at all, for those terms imply only adopting some elements of a model. The anacreontics’ wholesale attempt to align with their understanding of Anacreon’s poetic program instead represents different “generations” of the same poetics.513 Glenn Most instead stresses both the anacreontics’ ethical mimesis of Anacreon – they advocate not just imitating his poetics but his very lifestyle – and the dramatic/performative aspects of their assumption of Anacreon’s role within the CA’s symposiastic framework.514 In fact, the anacreontics avoid presenting themselves as actually Anacreon, but rather, as in CA 1, each narrative voice “becomes” the poet within the context of singing anacreontic poetry at the symposium (be it a fictive or real occasion), resulting, as Bär maintains, in the collection’s polyphonic qualities.515 Nor does the CA engage only with the tradition of Anacreon, as the wealth of contemporary research and commentaries cumulatively attests. Direct evocations of, allusions to, and intertextual relationships with an array of works, often in marked metapoetic contexts, saturate the poems as scholars repeatedly show.516 Homeric epic, Platonic dialogues, tragedy, bucolic, epigram, and many others are introduced and either accepted, modified, or rejected as part of the 511 An extensively discussed scene; cf. esp. Rosenmeyer 1992, 63–70; Müller 2010, 124–131; Zotou 2014, 23–29; Bär et al. 2014, 154–156; Bär 2017, 19–24. 512 Rosenmeyer 1992, 62–72. Though see Baumann 2014, 120 n. 33 on one example of possible competition between anacreontic poems. 513 Müller 2010, 20–46 offers a theoretical argument that is applied throughout the subsequent commentary. 514 Most 2014; cf. Rudolph 2014, whose consideration of the “lyrical I” pivots on the sympotic framework. The sympotic element has been widely discussed, e.g., Danielewicz 1986; West 1990, 273–275; Ladianou 2005. 515 Bär 2017. 516 Rosenmeyer 1992, 147–224 provides the initial survey; very few contemporary studies do not consider allusions and intertexts.

96

Greene

anacreontics’ poetical and poetological programs. Relationships to models and referents, however, are not always simple. Gutzwiller emphasizes that CA 60’s allusion to the four types of Platonic madness comes filtered through and accompanied by echoes of Meleager,517 while other scholars identify Pindaric intertexts.518 In other words, scholarship emphasizes that the complex layering of interactions with the literary past which we find in so many Hellenistic poets continues to thrive throughout the CA.519 Recent research relying on interpretative models like reader-response and “ideal readers” also underscores the collection’s interest in turning readers into anacreontic poets themselves. Baumann’s analysis of the successive ecphrastic poems in the CA, particularly CA 16 and 17, understands them not only as stimulating readers’ imaginations but as challenging readers to emulate them, in much the same way as in the practice of sympotic “capping” – a performance of poetry to which another would respond.520 Likewise, Bär’s readings of key poems highlight their qualities as spurs to poetry that culminate in CA 60’s much-discussed exhortation to “imitate Anacreon.”521 Thus our “final” poem in post-classical Greek lyric concludes not with an “end” but with a call for readers to become poets themselves and to continue the collection with their own anacreontic verse. 2.4 Conclusions As with elegy, lack of evidence hobbles the study of post-classical lyric. The absence of any preserved song composed and performed by the mass of professionals that populated the Hellenistic stages and festal spaces, save for the paeans of Athenaeus and Limenius and the Fragmentum Grenfellianum, significantly impedes our evaluation of the relationships between popular poetry and the poetry of learned elites. Yet the example of Philicus, who straddled the two worlds as both erudite poet and Dionysiac Artist, indicates that its 517 Gutzwiller 2014, 63–65, with discussion of the complexities of anacreontic allusion. 518 E.g. Rosenmeyer 1992, 133–137; Müller 2010, 136; Bär et al. 2014, who all highlight other possible intertexts as well. 519 Sens 2014, 109–112, for example, reads the transference of a statue of Eros from a Doric-speaker to the anacreontic narrator in CA 11 as a self-referential comment on the poem’s place as the heir to Ionic amatory lyric as mediated through the bucolic of Doric authors. See also Gutzwiller 2014 on bucolic elements. 520 Baumann 2014. The similar CA 16 and 17 are much-discussed from various perspectives, particularly in terms of ecphrasis; cf. Lambin 2002, 272–276; Müller 2010, 272–280; Zotou 2014, 102–124; Bär 2016; Kantzios 2016. On the practice of “capping,” see Collins 2004, ix–x and passim; compare Crates’ capping of Solon in 1.5 above. 521 Bär 2017. Cf. esp. Rosenmeyer 1992, 129–137, who observes the open end of the collection; Müller 2010, 135–140; Most 2014, 145–151.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

97

boundaries were not impermeable. Indeed, a pronounced trend in current scholarship on performed lyric underscores qualities more typically associated with “high” Hellenistic literature. So recent studies draw attention to the FG’s incorporation of literary conventions, topoi, and language (e.g. Bing 2002; Esposito 2005), while several scholars explore Isyllus’ and Philodamus’ self-conscious interactions with issues of genre, poetic and rhetorical modes, and the materiality of their songs’ inscribed forms. Likewise, the recent evaluations of generic fluidity and mobility in the songs of Aristotle and Ariphron (Ford 2010; LeVen 2014) model the potential for further study of occasional and performed poetry’s generic adaptability. Although contemporary scholars generally have not – and probably should not – argue for understanding most of these songs as operating in the same literary registers as Callimachean or Theocritean verse, they do underscore the “literary” dimensions of performed song. We also see scholars of literary lyric approaching issues of textuality and performativity from productive new perspectives. Prauscello’s discussion of Theocritus’ attempt to replicate the effects of music in Idyll 29 and Bowie’s comparison of performed paeans to Philicus’ literary hymn, for example, both elucidate ways that textual poetry is separated from  – and separates itself from  – performance. Scholarship on the figure poems highlights their deliberate “performance” and thematization of their own textuality (e.g., Männlein-Robert 2007; Luz 2008; Pappas 2013), while also stressing developed allusions and intertexts that complement and add further substance to the poem’s visual effects (e.g., Kwapisz 2013). On the other hand, Acosta-Hughes and Stephens’ emphasis on the need to carefully contextualize literary poetry, performed or not, within the culture of performance embodies the more general scholarly push to consider the influence the world beyond the regularly-evoked “ivory tower” exerted over composers of “high” poetry. Although we often lament the dearth of preserved post-classical lyric, a number of poems remain understudied. Several paeans and hymns in Furley and Bremmer have received little critical attention from more literary perspectives and thus would benefit from evaluations on the model of the research discussed in 2.2.1. Mesomedes’ poetics likewise remain largely unexplored, despite the few excellent recent commentaries and studies on the topic, while the potential performative qualities of Cercidas’ “sung” (μελι-) iambs feature little in contemporary conversations that nonetheless often focus on performance. The burgeoning interest in the Anacreontea offers scholars a virtual playground of popular theoretical approaches and topics, from readerresponse and genre theory to reception, intertextuality, allusion, and mimesis,

98

Greene

but modern study of the CA is still, relatively speaking, in its early stages. Despite the ballooning bibliography, most studies focus upon the same dozen or so poems, leaving others in the collection ripe for further consideration. In sum, contemporary evaluations of lyric, popular and literary alike, offer a variety of models for further study of a body of poetry that, while often figured as ancillary, nonetheless has much still to contribute to ongoing discussions of topics such as the adaptability and evolution of generic forms, the experience of poetry as text and as performance, and the nature and quality of the perceived divide between performed song and poetry of the book.

Abbreviations

AB

Austin, C. and G. Bastianini. 2002. Posidippi Pellaei quae supersunt omnia. Milan: LED.

CA FGrH

Powell, J.U. 1925. Collectanea Alexandrina. Oxford: Clarendon. Jacoby, F. 1923–1958. Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker. Berlin and Leiden: Brill. GDRK Heitsch, E. 1961, 1964. Die griechischen Dichterfragmente der römischen Kaizerzeit. Gottingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht. GP Gow, A.S.F. and D.L. Page. 1965. The Greek Anthology. Hellenistic Epigrams. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. GS Gow, A.S.F. and A.F. Scholfield. 1953. Nicander. The Poems and Poetical Fragments. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. IG 1873–. Inscriptiones Graecae. Pf. Pfeiffer, R. 1949, 1953. Callimachus. 2 vols. Oxford: Oxford University Press. PMG Page, D.L. 1962. Poetae Melici Graeci. Oxford: Oxford University Press. P.Oxy. 1898–. The Oxyrhynchus Papyri. London: Egypt Exploration Society. SIG Dittenberger, W. 1915–1924. Sylloge Inscriptionum Graecarum. 3rd ed. Leipzig. SH Lloyd-Jones, H. and P. Parsons. 1983. Supplementum Hellenisticum. Berlin: De Gruyter.

Bibliography Acosta-Hughes, Benjamin. 2002. Polyeideia: The Iambi of Callimachus and the Archaic Iambic Tradition. Berkeley: University of California Press. Acosta-Hughes, Benjamin. 2003. “Aesthetics and Recall: Callimachus frs. 226–229 Pf Reconsidered.” CQ 53: 478–489.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

99

Acosta-Hughes, Benjamin. 2010. Arion’s Lyre: Archaic Lyric into Hellenistic Poetry. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Acosta-Hughes, Benjamin. 2010b. “The Pre-Figured Muse: Rethinking a Few Assumptions on Hellenistic Poetics.” In Clauss and Cuypers, 81–91. Acosta-Hughes, Benjamin. 2016. “A Little-Studied Dialogue. Responses to Plato in Callimachean Epigram.” In Dialect, Diction, and Style in Greek Literary and Inscribed Epigram, edited by E. Sistakou and A. Rengakos, 237–251. Berlin and New York: De Gruyter. Acosta-Hughes, Benjamin. 2019. “A Lost Pavane for a Dead Princess, Call. fr. 228 Pf.” In Klooster, Harder, Regtuit, and Wakker, 5–26. Acosta-Hughes, Benjamin. 2019b. “Considering the Terms. A Response to A. Harder on the Interaction between Apollonius Rhodius and Callimachus.” In Barbantani, 35–42. Acosta-Hughes, Benjamin and Silvia Barbantani. 2007. “Inscribing Lyric.” In Bing and Bruss, 429–458. Acosta-Hughes, Benjamin, Luigi Lehnus, and Susan Stephens, eds. 2011. Brill’s Companion to Callimachus. Leiden and Boston: Brill. Acosta-Hughes, Benjamin and Susan A. Stephens. 2002. “Rereading Callimachus’ Aetia Fr. 1.” CP 97: 238–255. Acosta-Hughes, Benjamin and Susan A. Stephens. 2012. Callimachus in Context: From Plato to the Augustan Poets. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press. Acosta-Hughes, Benjamin and Susan A. Stephens. 2017. “Callimachean ‘Lyric’.” In Sistakou, 226–247. Alexander, Katherina. 1988. A Stylistic Commentary on Phanocles and Related Texts. Amsterdam: Hakkert. Allen, Archibald. 1993. Mimnermus: Text and Commentary. Palingenesia 44. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner. Alonge, Mark. 2011. “Greek Hymns from Performance to Stone.” In Sacred Words: Orality, Literacy and Religion, edited by A.P.M.H. Lardinois, J.H. Blok, and M.G.M. van der Poel, 217–234. Leiden and Boston: Brill. Aloni, Antonio. 2009. “Elegy.” In Budelmann, 168–188. Aloni, Antonio and Alessandro Iannucci. 2007. L’elegia greca e l’epigramma: Dalle origini al V secolo. Con un’appendice sulla ‘nuova’ elegia di Archiloco. Firenze: Le Monnier università. Ambühl, Annemarie. 2004. “Entertaining Theseus and Heracles: The Hecale and the Victoria Berenices as a Diptych.” In Harder, Regtuit, and Wakker, 23–48. Ambühl, Annemarie. 2005. Kinder und junge Helden: innovative Aspekte des Umgangs mit der literarischen Tradition bei Kallimachos. Leuven and Dudley, MA: Peeters.

100

Greene

Ambühl, Annemarie. 2007. “Children as Poets, Poets as Children? Romantic Constructions of Childhood and Hellenistic Poetry.” Constructions of Childhood in Ancient Greece and Italy. Hesperia Supplements 41: 373–383. Aneziri, Sophia. 2003. Die Vereine der dionysischen Techniten im Kontext der hellenistischen Gesellschaft. Untersuchungen zur Geschichte, Organisation und Wirkung der hellenistischen Technitenvereine. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner. Aneziri, Sophia. 2007. “The Organization of Music Contests in the Hellenistic Period and Artists’ Participation: An Attempt of Classification.” In Wilson, 67–84. Aneziri, Sophia. 2009. “World travelers: the association of Artists of Dionysus.” In Hunter and Rutherford, 217–236. Antunez, Daniela. 2007. “Comentario a un fragmento de Calímaco: Pannychis (fr. 227 Pf.)” Circe 11: 27–39. Asper, Markus. 1997. Onomata allotria: zur Genese, Struktur, und Funktion poetologischer Metaphern bei Kallimachos. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner. Asper, Markus. 2001. “Gruppen und Dichter.” A&A 47: 84–116. Asper, Markus. 2004. Kallimachos von Cyrene: Werke griechisch-deutsch. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft. Asper, Markus. 2007. “Emanuele Lelli, Callimachi Iambi XIV-XVII. Lyricorum Graecorum quae exstant.” BMCR 2007.04.31. Asper, Markus. 2009. “Science and Fiction in Callimachus.” In Harder, Regtuit, and Wakker, 1–18. Asper, Markus. 2011. “Dimensions of Power: Callimachean ‘Geopoetics’ and the Ptolemaic Empire.” In Acosta-Hughes, Lehnus, and Stephens, 155–177. Asquith, Helen. 2005. “From Genealogy to Catalogue: The Hellenistic Adaptation of the Hesiodic Catalogue Form.” In Hunter, 266–286. Austin, Colin. 2006. “L’apothéose d’Arsinoé (P. Berol 13417 A = Callim. fr. 228 Pf.)” In Bastianini and Casanova, 57–68. Bär, Silvio. 2016. “‘Come, Second of Best of Painters!’ Irony, Ambiguity and Voices in Carmina Anacreontea 16 and 17.” Phoenix 70: 23–39. Bär, Silvio. 2017. “Composition, Voices, and the Poetological Programme in the Carmina Anacreontea.” Symbolae Philologorum Posnaniensium Graecae et Latinae 27: 17–40. Bär, Silvio, Manuel Baumbach, Nicola Dümmler, Horst Sitta, and Fabian Zogg. 2014. Carmina Anacreontea. Griechisch/Deutsch. Ditzingen: Reclam. Barbantani, Silvia. 1993. “I poeti lirici del canone alessandrino nell’epigrammatistica.” Aev. Ant. 6: 5–97. Barbantani, Silvia. 2001. Φάτις νικηφόρος, Frammenti di elegia encomiastica nell’età delle Guerre Galatiche: Supplementum Hellenisticum 958 e 969. Milano: Istituto di Filologia Classica e di Papirologia.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

101

Barbantani, Silvia. 2002/3. “Callimachus and the Contemporary Historical ‘Epic’.” In Studies in Hellenistic Poetry, edited by S.B. Jackson and D.P. Nelis = Hermathena 173/4: 29–47. Barbantani, Silvia. 2009. “Lyric in the Hellenistic period and beyond.” In Budelmann, 297–318. Barbantani, Silvia. 2012. “Hellenistic Epinician.” BICS Supplement 212: Receiving the Komos: Ancient and Modern Receptions of the Victory Ode, edited by C. Carey, R. Rawles, P. Agocs, 37–55. London: Wiley. Barbantani, Silvia. 2017. “Lyric for the Rulers, Lyric for the People: The Transformation of Some Lyric Subgenres in Hellenistic Poetry.” In Sistakou, 339–399. Barbantani, Silvia. 2018. “A Survey of Lyric Genres in Hellenistic Poetry: The Hymn. Transformation, Adaptation, Experimentation.” Erga-Logoi 6: 61–136. DOI: http:// dx.doi.org/10.7358/erga-2018-001-barb. Barbantani, Silvia, ed. 2019. Callimaco e Apollonio. Aev. Ant. 19. Milano: Vita e Pensiero. Barchiesi, Alessandro. 2001. “The Crossing.” In Texts, Ideas, and the Classics. Scholarship, Theory, and Classical Literature, edited by S. Harrison, 142–163. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Barchiesi, Alessandro. 2011. “Roman Callimachus.” In Acosta-Hughes, Lehnus, and Stephens, 511–533. Barker, Andrew. 2002. Euterpe: Ricerche sulla musica greca e romana, edited by Franca Perusina and Eleonora Rocconi. Pisa: Edizioni ETS. Bartol, Krystyna. 1993. “ΤΟΝ ΑΝΑΚΡΕΟΝΤΑ ΜΙΜΟΥ: Einige Bemerkungen zum Carmen Anacreonteum 1W.” A&A 39: 64–72. Bartol, Krystyna. 2016. “The Song for Demetrius Poliorcetes (CA 173) and Generic Experimentation in the Early Hellenistic Period.” Paideia 71: 501–518. Bastianini, Guido. 2006. “Considerazioni sulle Diegeseis fiorentine (PSI XI 1219).” In Bastianini and Casanova, 149–166. Bastianini, Guido and Angelo Casanova, eds. 2006. Callimaco. Cent’ anni di papyri. Atti del Convegno Internazionale di Studi, Firenze, 9-10 giugno 2005. Firenze: Istituto Papirologico, G. Vitelli. Battezzato, Luigi. 2009. “The Fragmentum Grenfellianum: Metrical Analysis, Ancient Punctuation, and the Sense of an Ending.” In The Play of Texts and Fragments: Essays in Honour of Martin Cropp, edited by J. Cousland and J. Hume, 403–420. Leiden: Brill. Baumann, Mario. 2014. “‘Come now, best of painters, paint my lover’: The Poetics of Ecphrasis in the Anacreontea.” In Baumbach and Dümmler, 113–130. Baumbach, Manuel and Nicola Dümmler, eds. 2014. Imitate Anacreon! Mimesis, Poeisis, and the Poetic Inspiration in the Carmina Anacreontea. Berlin and Boston: De Gruyter.

102

Greene

Bélis, Annie. 1992. Les hymnes à Apollon, étude épigraphique et musicale. Corpus des Inscriptions de Delphes 3. Paris: Éditions de Boccard. Bélis, Annie. 1995. “Cithares, citharistes et citharôdes en Grèce.” CRAI 1995: 1025–1065. Bélis, Annie. 1999. Les musiciens dans l’antiquité. Paris: Hachette Littératures. Benedetto, Giovanni. 2011. “Callimachus and the Atthidographers.” In Acosta-Hughes, Lehnus, and Stephens, 349–367. Benson, Geoffrey C. 2014. “Archimedes the Poet: Generic Innovation and Mathematical Fantasy in the Cattle Problem.” Arethusa 47.2: 169–196. Bernsdorff, Hans. 2007. “P. Oxy. 4711 and the Poetry of Parthenius.” JHS 127:1–18. Bernsdorff, Hans. 2008. “Mythen, die unter die Haut gehen: zur literarischen Form der Tätowierelegie (PBrux. inv. E 8934 und PSorb. Inv. 2254).” Mnem. 61.1: 45–65. Bessone, Federica. 2013. “Latin Precursors.” In The Cambridge Companion to Latin Love Elegy, edited by T.S. Thorsen, 39–56. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press. Bett, Richard. 2000. Pyrrho, His Antecedents and Legacy. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Bettini, Maurizio. 1982. “A proposito dei versi sotadei, greci e romani.” MD 9: 59–105. Bing, Peter. 1985. “Kastorion of Soloi’s Hymn to Pan (Supplementum Hellenisticum 310).” AJP 106.4: 502–509. Bing, Peter. 1988. The Well-Read Muse: Present and Past in Callimachus and the Hellenistic Poets. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht. Bing, Peter. 1993. “The Bios-Tradition and Poets’ Lives in Hellenistic Poetry.” In Nomodeiktes: Greek Studies in Honour of Martin Ostwald, edited by R. Rosen and J. Farrell, 619–631. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Bing, Peter. 2002. “The ‘Alexandrian Erotic Fragment’ or ‘Madchens Klage’.” In Vandorpe, 381–390. Bing, Peter. 2003. “The Unruly Tongue of Philitas of Cos as Scholar and Poet.” CP 98.4: 330–348. Bing, Peter. 2004. “Posidippus’ Iamatika.” In Labored in Leaves: Perspectives on an Epigram Tradition Attributed to Posidippus (P. Mil. Vogl. VIII 309), edited by B. Acosta-Hughes, E. Kosmetatou, and M. Baumbach, 276–291. Washington, DC: Center for Hellenic Studies. Bing, Peter. 2009. “Text or Performance/Text and Performance: Alan Cameron’s Callimachus and His Critics.” In The Scroll and the Marble: Studies in Reading and Reception in Hellenistic Poetry, 106–115. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. [Updated version of Bing 2000 in Pretagostini, 139–148.] Bing, Peter. 2014. “Anacreontea avant la lettre: Euripides’ Cyclops 495-518.” In Baumbach and Dümmler, 25–46. Bing, Peter and Jon Steffan Bruss, eds. 2007. Brill’s Companion to Hellenistic Epigram. Down to Philip. Leiden and Boston: Brill.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

103

Boedeker, Deborah and David Sider, eds. 2001. The New Simonides: Contexts of Praise and Desire. New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press. Bonelli, Guido. 1979. Decadentismo antico e moderno. Un confronto fra l’estetismo alessandrino e l’esperienza poetica contemporanea. Torino: Giappichelli. Bourdieu, Pierre. 1993. The Field of Cultural Production: Essays on Art and Literature, edited by R. Johnson. Cambridge and Oxford: Polity Press. Bowie, Ewen L. 1985. “Theocritus’ Seventh Idyll, Philetas and Longus.” CQ 35.1: 67–91. Bowie, Ewen L. 1986. “Early Greek Elegy, Symposium, and Public Festival.” JHS 106: 13–35. Bowie, Ewen L. 1990. “Greek Poetry in the Antonine Age.” In Antonine Literature, edited by D. Russell, 53–90. Oxford: Clarendon. Bowie, Ewen L. 2007. “From Archaic Elegy to Hellenistic Sympotic Epigram?” In Bing and Bruss, 95–112. Bowie, Ewen L. 2009. “Historical Narrative in Archaic and Early Classical Greek Elegy.” In Epic and History, edited by D. Konstan and K.A. Raaflaub, 145–166. Malden, MA and Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell. Bowie, Ewen L. 2015. “Time and Place, Narrative and Speech in Philicus, Philodamus, and Limenius.” In Faulkner and Hodgkinson, 87–118. Bravo, Benedetto. 1997. Pannychis e simposio. Pisa: Istituti Editoriali e Poligrafici Internazionale. Bremmer, Jan and Peter Parsons. 1987. “P.Oxy. 3723.” In The Oxyrhynchus Papyri Volume LIV, edited by R.A. Coles, H. Maehler, and P. Parsons, 58–64. London: Egypt Exploration Society. Broggiato, Maria. 2014. “Eratosthenes, Icaria and the Origins of Tragedy.” Mnem. 67.6: 885–899. Brown, Christopher G. 1990. “Honouring the Goddess: Philicus’ Hymn to Demeter.” Aegyptus 70.1/2: 173–189. Brumbaugh, Michael. 2015. “Making the Hymn: Mesomedean Narrative and the Interpretation of a Genre.” In Faulkner and Hodkinson, 165–182. Brunschwig, Jacques. 1994. Papers in Hellenistic Philosophy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bruss, Jon Steffan. 2004. “Lessons from Ceos: Written and Spoken Word in Callimachus.” In Harder, Regtuit, and Wakker, 49–70. Bruss, Jon Steffan. 2010. “Epigram.” In Clauss and Cuypers, 117–135. Budelmann, Felix, ed. 2009. The Cambridge Companion to Greek Lyric. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bulloch, Anthony W. 1985. Callimachus. The Fifth Hymn. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

104

Greene

Bulloch, Anthony W. 2006. “The Order and Structure of Callimachus’ Aetia 3.” CQ 56: 496–508. Butrica, J.L. 1996. “Hellenistic Erotic Elegy: The Evidence of the Papyri.” Papers of the Leeds International Latin Seminar 9: 297–322. Cairns, Francis. 1976. “The distaff of Theugnis – Theocritus Idyll 28.” Papers of the Liverpool Latin Seminar 1: 293–305. Cairns, Francis. 1979. Tibullus: A Hellenistic Poet at Rome. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press. Cairns, Francis. 2006 [with reprint from Cairns 1979]. “Propertius and the Origins of Latin Love-Elegy.” In Brill’s Companion to Propertius, edited by H.-C. Günther, 69–95. Leiden: Brill. Calame, Claude. 2009. “Apollo in Delphi and in Delos: Poetic Performances between Paean and Dithyramb.” In Apolline Politics and Poetics: International Symposium, edited by L. Athanassaki, R.P. Martin, and J.F. Miller, 169–197. Athens: Hellenic Ministry of Culture; European Cultural Centre of Delphi. Cameron, Alan. 1995. Callimachus and His Critics. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Cameron, Alan. 2004. Greek Mythography in the Roman World. Oxford University Press. Campbell, David A. 1988. Greek Lyric, vol. 2: Anacreon, Anacreontea, Choral Lyric from Olympus to Alcman. Loeb, Classical Library. Cambridge, MA and London: Harvard University Press. Carey, Chris. 2009. “Genre, Occasion and Performance.” In Budelmann, 21–38. Caspers, Christiaan L. 2005. “Hermesianax Fr. 7.75-8 Powell: Philitas, Bittis  … and a Parrot?” Mnem. 58.4: 575–581. Caspers, Christiaan L. 2006. “The Loves of the Poets: Allusions in Hermesianax Fr. 7 Powell.” In Harder, Regtuit and Wakker, 21–42. Cassia, Margherita. 2012. Andromaco di Creta: Medicina e potere nella Roma neroniana. Acireale and Roma: Bonanno. Cazzadori, Leonardo. 2016. “Callimachus on Agones and Athletes.” In Mann, Remijsen, and Scharff, 315–330. Ceccarelli, Paola. 2013. “Circular Choruses and the Dithyramb in the Classical and Hellenistic Period: A Problem of Definition.” In Kowalzig and Wilson, 153–170. Ceccarelli, Paola and Silvia Milanezi. 2007. “Dithyramb, Tragedy – and Cyrene.” In Wilson, 185–214. Chaniotis, Angelos. 1997. “Theatricality Beyond the Theater: Staging Public Life in the Hellenistic World.” In De la scène aux gradins. Théâtre et représentations dramatiques après Alexandre le Grand dans les cités hellénstiques. Actes du Colloque, edited by B. Le Guen, 219–257. Toulouse: Presses Universitaires du Mirail. Chaniotis, Angelos. 2009. “Travelling memories in the Hellenistic World.” In Hunter and Rutherford, 249–269.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

105

Chaniotis, Angelos. 2009b. “A Few Things Hellenistic Audience Appreciated in Musical Performances.” In La Musa dimenticata. Aspetti dell’ esperienza musicale greca in età ellenistica, edited by M. Martinelli, 75–97. Pisa: Edizioni della Normale. Chaniotis, Angelos. 2011. “The Ithyphallic Hymn for Demetrios Poliorketes and Hellenistic Religious Mentality.” In More Than Man, Less Than Gods: Studies on Royal Cult and Imperial Worship, edited by P. Iossif, A. Chankowski, and C. Lorber, 157–195. Leuven, Paris, Walpole, MA: Peeters. Cheshire, Kenye. 2014. “Callimachus’ Hymn 5 and an Alexandrian audience.” In Harder, Regtuit, and Wakker, 59–84. Cinalli, Angela. 2018. “The Performative Life of the Hellenistic Period through Inscriptions. The Case Study of Delphi and Delos.” In Harder, Regtuit, and Wakker, 39–74. Citroni, Mario. 2011. “Arte Allusiva: Pasquali and Onward.” In Acosta-Hughes, Lehnus, and Stephens, 566–586. Clauss, James J. 2000. “Cosmos without Imperium: The Argonautic Journey through Time.” In Apollonius Rhodius. Hellenistica Groningana IV, edited by M.A. Harder, R.F. Regtuit, and G.C. Wakker, 11–32. Leuven, Paris, Sterling, VA: Peeters. Clauss, James J. 2010. “From the Head of Zeus: The Beginnings of Roman Literature.” In Clauss and Cuypers, 463–78. Clauss, James J. 2019. “The Near Eastern Background of Aetiological Wordplay in Callimachus.” In Klooster, Harder, Regtuit, and Wakker, 65–96. Clauss, James J. 2019b. “Cross-Pollination Among Artists Across Time: A Response to Annette Harder.” In Barbantani, 43–56. Clauss, James J. and Martine Cuypers, eds. 2010. A Companion to Hellenistic Literature. Malden, MA and Oxford: Wiley Blackwell. Clay, Jenny Strauss. 1996. “Fusing the Boundaries: Apollo and Dionysus at Delphi.” Metis 11: 83–100. Clayman, Dee L. 2009. Timon of Phlius: Pyrrhonism into Poetry. Berlin and New York: De Gruyter. Collins, Derek. 2004. Master of the Game. Competition and Performance in Greek Poetry. Washington, DC: Center for Hellenic Studies. Condello, Federico. 2016. “L’elegia di Elefantina (adesp. el. 27 W.2 = adesp. 12 G.-P.2): carme unitario o catena simposiale?” Paideia 71: 29–50. Cozzoli, Adele-Teresa. 2011. “The Poet as a Child.” In Acosta-Hughes, Lehnus, and Stephens, 407–428. Csapo, Eric. 2004. “The Politics of New Music.” In Music and the Muses: the culture of ‘mousikē’ in the classical Athenian city, edited by P. Murray and P. Wilson, 207–248. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Csapo, Eric and Peter Wilson. 2009. “Timotheus the New Musician.” In Budelmann, 47–74.

106

Greene

Cunningham, Ian C. 2004. Herodas Mimiambi cum appendice fragmentorum mimorum papyraceorum. München: K.G. Saur. Cusset, Christophe. 1999. La Muse dans la bibliothèque: réécriture et intertextualité dans la poésie alexandrine. Paris: CNRS. Cusset, Christophe, ed. 2006. Musa Docta. Recherches sur la poésie scientifique dans l’Antiquité. Saint-Étienne: l’Université de Saint-Étienne. Cuypers, Martine. 2004. “Prince and Principle: The Philosophy of Callimachus’ Hymn to Zeus.” In Harder, Regtuit, and Wakker, 95–116. Dale, Alexander. 2010. “Lyric Epigrams in Meleager’s Garland, the Anthologia Palatina, and the Anthologia Planudea.” GRBS 50: 193–213. Dale, Alexander. 2010–2011. “Dithyramb, Tragedy, and Callimachus: the New Music and its Reception.” In Poesia, musica e agoni nella Grecia antica, edited by D. Castaldo, F.G. Giannachi, and A. Manieri, 371–383. Galatina Lecce: Rudiae. D’Alessio, Giovan Battista. 1994. “The Greek Paean: Lutz Käppel: Paian: Studien zur Geschichte einer Gattung.” CR: 44: 62–65. D’Alessio, Giovan Battista. 2000. “Stephan Schröder, Geschichte und Theorie der Gattung Paian.” BMCR 2000.01.24. D’Alessio, Giovan Battista. 2004. “Some Notes on the Salmakis Inscription.” In Isager and Pedersen, 43–58. D’Alessio, Giovan Battista. 2007⁴. Callimaco: Aitia, Giambi, e altri frammenti. Milano: Bur. D’Alessio, Giovan Battista. 2013. “The Name of the Dithyramb: Diachronic and Diatopic Variations.” In Kowalzig and Wilson, 113–132. D’Alessio, Giovan Battista. 2016. “Didymaean Songs (on SEG 58.1301, 60.1150).” MD 76: 197–212. D’Alessio, Giovan Battista. 2017. “Performance, Transmission and the Loss of Hellenistic Lyric Poetry.” In Imagining Reperformance in Ancient Culture: Studies in the Traditions of Drama and Lyric, edited by R. Hunter and A. Uhlig, 232–261. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press. Danielewicz, Jerzy 1986. “Anacreontics as a Literary Genre.” Acta Classica Universitatis Scientiarum Debreceniensis 22: 41–51. Danielewicz, Jerzy. 2015. “Philicus’ ‘novel composition’ for the Alexandrian grammarians: initial lines and Iambe’s speech.” Classica Cracoviensia 18: 137–149. Day, Joseph W. 2000. “Epigram and Reader: Generic Forces as (Re-)Activation of Ritual.” In Depew and Obbink, 37–57. Day, Joseph W. 2010. Archaic Greek Epigram and Dedication. Representation and Reperformance. Cambridge: and New York: Cambridge University Press. Delgado, Ramiro González. 2007. “Aitia y ΕΡΩΣ ΠΑΙΔΙΚΟΣ en Fanocles.” Anuario de Estudios Filológicos 30: 151–165.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

107

Della Bona, Maria Elena. 2017. Agoni poetico-musicali nella Grecia antica. Vol. 2: I Pythia di Delfi. Pisa and Roma: Fabrizio Serra. Depew, Mary. 1992. “ἰαμβεῖον καλεῖται νῦν: Genre, Occasion and Imitation in Callimachus frr. 191 and 203 Pf.” TAPA 122: 313–330. Depew, Mary. 2000. “Enacted and Represented Dedications: Genre and Greek Hymn.” In Depew and Obbink, 59–79. Depew, Mary and Dirk Obbink. 2000. Matrices of Genre. Authors, Canons, and Society. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Desmond, William. 2008. Cynics. Berkeley: University of California Press. De Stefani, Claudio. 2007. “Aglaia di Bisanzio, SH 18: edizione critica e note.” In Studi Ricordo di Fulviomario Broilo. Atti del Convegno, Venezia, 14-15 ottobre 2005, edited by G. Cresci Marrone and A. Pistellato, 265–276. Padova: S.A.R.G.O.N. Editrice e Libreria. Dettori, Emanuele. 2000. Filita grammatico: testimonianze e frammenti. Roma: Quasar. Dettori, Emanuele. 2004. “Appunti sul ‘Banchetto di Pollis’ (Call. fr. 178 Pf.).” In La cultura ellenistica: l’opera letteraria e l’esegesi antica: atti del convegno COFIN 2001, Università di Roma Tor Vergata, 22-24 settembre 2003, edited by R. Pretagostini and E. Dettori, 33–63. Roma: Quasar. Dexter, Joseph P. 2013. “The Reception of Phanocles at Georgics 4.507-27.” Mnem. 66.2: 303–311. Di Benedetto, Vincenzo. 1994. “Callimaco di fronte al modello omerico: il fr. 228 Pf.” RFIC 122: 273–278. Dieleman, Jacco and Ian S. Moyer. 2011. “Egyptian Literature.” In Clauss and Cuypers, 429–447. Di Gregorio, Lamberto. 2012. “Merò (?) e Niceneto: due sconosciuti?” Aevum 86.1: 63–154. Dillon, Matthew. 2000. “Did Parthenoi attend the Olympic Games? Girls and Women Competing, Spectating, and Carrying out Cult Roles at Greek Religious Festivals.” Hermes 128.4: 457–480. Ehrenberg, Victor. 1946. “Athenian Hymn to Demetrius Poliorcetes.” In Aspects of the Ancient World. Essays and Reviews, 179–198. Oxford: Blackwell. Ernst, Ulrich. 1991. Carmen figuratum. Geschichte des Figurengedichts von den antiken Ursprüngen bis zum Ausgang des Mittelalters. Köln: Böhlau. Ernst, Ulrich, ed., with Oliver Ehlen, and Susanne Gramatzki. 2012. Visuelle Poesie. Band I: Von der Antike bis zum Barock. Berlin and Boston: De Gruyter. Erskine, Andrew and Lloyd Llewellyn-Jones, eds. 2011. Creating a Hellenistic World. Swansea: Classical Press of Wales. Esposito, Elena. 2002. “Il pubblico del mimo popolare nell’Egitto tolemaico: Dryton e il Grenfellianum.” Eikasmós 13: 199–214.

108

Greene

Esposito, Elena. 2005. Il Fragmentum Grenfellianum (P. Dryton 50): Introduzione, testo critico, traduzione e commento. Bologna: Pàtron Editore. Esposito, Elena. 2010. “Herodas and Mime.” In Clauss and Cuypers, 267–281. Fabian, Klaus. 1992. Callimaco, Aitia II: Testo critico, traduzione, e commento. Alessandria: Edizio dell’Orso. Falivene, Maria Rosaria. 2011. “The Diegesis Papyrus: Archaeological Context, Format, and Contents.” In Acosta-Hughes, Lehnus, and Stephens, 81–92. Falkner, Thomas. 2002. “Scholars versus actors: text and performance in the Greek tragic scholia.” In Greek and Roman Actors. Aspects of an Ancient Profession, edited by P. Easterling and E. Hall, 342–361. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Fantuzzi, Marco 1988. “Epici ellenistici.” In L’epos ellenistica: un capitolo dimenticato della poesia greca: con appendice Ennio poeta epico ellenistico. [Italian translation of Konrat Ziegler 1966], xxv–lxxxix. Bari: Levante. Fantuzzi, Marco. 1993. “Il sistema letterario della poesia alessandrina nel III sec. A.C.” In Lo spazio letterario della Grecia antica I.2, edited by G. Cambiano, L. Canfora, and D. Lanza, 31–73. Roma: Salerno. Fantuzzi, Marco. 1993b. “Teocrito e la poesia bucolica.” In Lo spazio letterrio della Grecia antica I.2, edited by G. Cambiano, L. Canfora, and D. Lanza, 145–195. Roma: Salerno. Fantuzzi, Marco. 2007. “Mescolare il ludicro al serio: la poetica del corcirese Filico e l’edonismo dei Feaci (SH 980).” In L’epigramma Greco. Problemi e prospettive, edited by G. Lozza and S.M. Tempesta, 53–68. Milano: Cisalpino. Fantuzzi, Marco. 2010. “Sung Poetry. The Case of Inscribed Paeans.” In Clauss and Cuypers, 181–196. Fantuzzi, Marco and Richard Hunter. 2004. Tradition and Innovation in Hellenistic Poetry. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press. Faraone, Christopher. 2008. The Stanzaic Architecture of Early Greek Elegy. New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press. Faraone, Christopher. 2011. “An Athenian Tradition of Dactylic Paeans to Apollo and Asclepius: Choral Degeneration or a Flexible System of Non-Strophic Dactyls?” Mnem. 64.2: 206–231. Faraone, Christopher. 2012. “The Stanzaic Architecture of Isidorus, Hymns 2 and 4 (SEG 8.549 and 51).” CQ 62.2: 618–632. Farrell, Joseph. 2003. “Classical genre in theory and practice.” New Literary History 34.3: 383–408. Fassino, Marco and Lucia Prauscello. 2001. “Memoria ritmica e memoria poetica: Saffo e Alceo in Teocrito Idilli 28-30 tra ἀρχαιολογία metrica e innovazione alessandrina.” MD 46: 9–37. Fauconnier, Bram. 2016. “Athletes and Artists in an Expanding World: The Development of Transregional Associations of Competitors in the First Century BC.” In Mann, Remijsen, and Scharff, 73–93.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

109

Faulkner, Andrew. 2011. “Callimachus’ Epigram 46 and Plato: The Literary Persona of the Doctor.” CQ 61.1: 178–185. Faulkner, Andrew and Owen Hodkinson, eds. 2015. Hymnic Narrative and the Narratology of Greek Hymns. Leiden and Boston: Brill. Feraboli, Simonetta. 1991. “Un utile confronto trà Anubio e Firmico.” Paideia 46: 201–205. Ford, Andrew. 2006. “The Genre of Genres: Paeans and Paian in Early Greek Poetry.” Poetica 38.3/4: 277–295. Ford, Andrew. 2011. Aristotle as Poet. The Song for Hermias and Its Contexts. New York: Oxford University Press. Ford, Andrew. 2017. “Ariphron.” In Sider, 152–157. Foster, J. Andrew. 2006. “Arsinoe II as Epic Queen: Encomiastic Allusion in Theocritus Idyll 15.” TAPA 136.1: 133–148. Franklin, John Curtis. 2013. “‘Songbenders of Circular Choruses:’ Dithyramb and the ‘Demise of Music’.” In Kowalzig and Wilson, 213–236. Fraser, Peter M. 1972. Ptolemaic Alexandria. Oxford: Clarendon Press. 3 volumes. Führer, Rudolf. 1998. “P.Oxy. 3723: Philetas?” ZPE 122: 47–48. Fuhrer, Therese. 1992. Die Auseinandersetzung mit den Chorlyrikern in den Epinikien des Kallimachos. Basel and Kassel: Reinhardt. Fuhrer, Therese. 1993. “Callimachus’ epinician poems.” In Harder, Regtuit, and Wakker, 79–97. Furley, William D. 2009. “Philikos’ Hymn to Demeter.” Paideia 64: 483–507. Furley, William D. 2010. “Hymns to Tyche and Related Abstract Entities.” Paideia 65: 161–179. Furley, William D. and Jan Maarten Bremer. 2001. Greek Hymns. Studien und Texte zu Antike und Christentum 9. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. 2 volumes. Gagné, Renaud. 2006. “What is the Pride of Halicarnassus?” CA 25.1: 1–33. Gärtner, Thomas. 2008. “Die hellenistische Katalogdichtung des Phanokles über homosexuelle Liebesbeziehungen. Untersuchungen zur tendenziellen Gestaltung und zum literarischen Nachleben.” Mnem. 61.1: 18–44. Gärtner, Thomas. 2012. “Der Erotikerkatalog in der Elegie ‘Leontion’ des Hermesianax von Kolophon: Überlegungen zu Aufbau und Überlieferung.” ZPE 180: 77–103. Garulli, Valentina. 2007. “Callimaco e Simonide: ancora sul fr. 64 Pf.” Eikasmos 18: 251–263. Gentili, Bruno. 1988. Poetry and its Public in Ancient Greece: From Homer to the Fifth Century. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. Gerber, Douglas E., ed. 1997. A Companion to the Greek Lyric Poets. Leiden, New York, Köln: Brill. Geus, Klaus. 2002. Eratosthenes von Kyrene. Studien zur hellenistischen Kultur und Wissenschaftsgeschichte. München: C.H. Beck.

110

Greene

Giangrande, Giuseppe. 1991. “Melinno.” In Rose di Pieria, edited by F. De Martino. Bari: Levante. Giuseppetti, Massimo. 2012. “Two Poets for a Goddess: Callimachus’ and Philicus’ Hymns to Demeter.” In Gods and Religion in Hellenistic Poetry, Hellenistic Groningana 16, edited by M.A. Harder, R.F. Regtuit, and G.C. Wakker, 103–130. Leuven, Paris and Walpole, MA: Peeters. Gonis, Nikolaos. 2006. “New Texts from the Archive(s) of Dryton and Apollonia.” APF 52.2: 197–204. Gow, A.S.F. 1952. Theocritus, 2 vols. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gramps, Adrian. 2018. “Rethinking ‘Mimetic Poetry’ and Callimachus’ Hymn to Apollo.” In Harder, Regtuit and Wakker, 129–156. Green, Peter. 2003. “Delivering the Go(o)ds: Demetrios Poliorcetes and Hellenistic Kingship.” In Gestures. Essay in Ancient History, Literature, and Philosophy presented to Alan L. Boegehold, edited by G.W. Bakewell and J.P. Sickinger, 258–277. Oxford: Oxbow. Greene, Robin J. 2017. “Callimachus and ‘New’ Ancient Histories.” Aitia 7.2. DOI: https:// doi.org/10.4000/aitia.1706. Guasti, Duccio. 2019. “Cercidas fr. 1 Lom. Between Hipponax and Diogenes.” Wiener Studien 132: 47–54. Guichard, Luis A. 2006. “Simias’ Pattern Poems: The Margins of Canon.” In Harder, Regtuit, and Wakker, 83–103. Guichard, Luis A. 2012. Anacreónticas: Introducción, traducción, notas y comentario. Madrid: Cátedra. Günther, Hans-Christian. 1998. “Römische Liebeselegie und hellenistische Dichtung.” Hellenika 48: 7–27. Gutzwiller, Kathryn. 1991. Theocritus’ Pastoral Analogies. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. Gutzwiller, Kathryn. 1992. “Callimachus’ Lock of Berenice: Fantasy, Romance, Propaganda.” AJP 113: 359–385. Gutzwiller, Kathryn. 1995. “The Evidence for Theocritean Poetry Books.” In Theocritus. Hellenistic Groningana 4, edited by M. Harder, R. Regtuit, and G. Wakker, 119–148. Groningen: Egbert Forsten. Gutzwiller, Kathryn. 1998. Poetic Garlands: Hellenistic Epigrams in Context. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. Gutzwiller, Kathryn. 2003. “Posidippus on Statuary.” In Il papiro di Posidippo un anno dopo: Atti del convegno internazionale di studi, Firenze, 13-14 giugno 2002, edited by G. Bastianini and A. Casanova, 41–60. Firenze: Istituto Papirologico G. Vitelli. Gutzwiller, Kathryn. 2007. A Guide to Hellenistic Literature. Malden and Oxford: Blackwell. Gutzwiller, Kathryn. 2010. “Literary Criticism.” In Clauss and Cuypers, 337–365.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

111

Gutzwiller, Kathryn. 2014. “Anacreon, Hellenistic Epigram, and the Anacreontic Poet.” In Baumbach and Dümmler, 47–66. Gutzwiller, Kathryn. 2017. “Melinno.” In Sider, 400–405. Hadjimichael, Theodora A. 2019. The Emergence of the Lyric Canon. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Hagel, Stefan. 2010. Ancient Greek Music: A New Technical History. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Harder, M. Annette. 1988. “Callimachus and the Muses. Some Aspects of Narrative Technique in Aetia 1 and 2.” Prometheus 14: 1–14. Harder, M. Annette. 1993. “Aspects of the Structure of the Aetia.” In Harder, Regtuit, and Wakker, 99–110. Harder, M. Annette. 1998. “‘Generic games’ in Callimachus’ Aetia.” In Harder, Regtuit, and Wakker, 95–113. Harder, M. Annette. 2002. “Intertextuality in Callimachus’ Aetia.” In Montanari and Lehnus, 189–233. Harder, M. Annette. 2003. “The Invention of Past, Present, and Future in Callimachus’ Aetia.” Hermes 3: 290–306. Harder, M. Annette. 2004. “Callimachus.” In Narrators, Narratees, and Narratives in Ancient Greek Literature. Studies in Ancient Greek Narrative, Volume I, edited by I.J.F. de Jong, R. Nünlist, and A. Bowie, 63–81. Leiden: Brill. Harder, M. Annette. 2007. “To Teach or Not to Teach …? Some Aspects of the Genre of Didactic Poetry in Antquity.” In Calliope’s Classroom. Studies in Didactic Poetry from Antiquity to the Renaissance, edited by M.A. Harder, A.A. MacDonald, and G.J. Reinink, 23–48. Paris, Leuven, Dudley, MA: Peeters. Harder, M. Annette. 2010. “Callimachus’ Aetia.” In Clauss and Cuypers, 92–105. Harder, M. Annette. 2011. “More Facts From Fragments?” In Obbink and Rutherford, 174–187. Harder, M. Annette. 2012. Callimachus: Aetia. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press. 2 volumes. Harder, M. Annette. 2014. “Spiders in the Greek Wide Web?” In Hunter, Rengakos, and Sistakou, 259–271. Harder, M. Annette. 2019. “Aspects of the Interaction between Apollonius Rhodius and Callimachus.” In Barbantani, 9–34. Harder, M.A., R.F. Regtuit, and G.C. Wakker, eds. 1993. Callimachus. Hellenistica Groningana 1. Groningen: Egbert Forsten. Harder, M.A., R.F. Regtuit, and G.C. Wakker, eds. 1998. Genre in Hellenistic Poetry. Hellenistica Groningana 3. Groningen: Egbert Forsten. Harder, M.A., R.F. Regtuit, and G.C. Wakker, eds. 2004. Callimachus II. Hellenistica Groningana 7. Leuven, Paris, and Dudley, MA: Peeters.

112

Greene

Harder, M.A., R.F. Regtuit, and G.C. Wakker, eds. 2006. Beyond the Canon. Hellenistica Groningana 11. Leuven, Paris, and Dudley, MA: Peeters. Harder, M.A., R.F. Regtuit, and G.C. Wakker, eds. 2009. Nature and Science in Hellenistic Poetry. Hellenistica Groningana 15. Leuven, Paris, and Walpole, MA: Peeters. Harder, M.A., R.F. Regtuit, and G.C. Wakker, eds. 2014. Hellenistic Poetry in Context. Hellenistica Groningana 20. Leuven, Paris, and Walpole, MA: Peeters. Harder, M.A., R.F. Regtuit, and G.C. Wakker, eds. 2017. Past and Present in Hellenistic Poetry. Hellenistica Groningana 21. Leuven, Paris, and Bristol, CT: Peeters. Harder, M.A., R.F. Regtuit, and G.C. Wakker, eds. 2018. Drama and Performance in Hellenistic Poetry. Hellenistica Groningana 23. Leuven, Paris, and Bristol, CT: Peeters. Hardie, Alex. 1997. “Philitas and the Plane Tree.” ZPE 119: 21–36. Hardie, Alex. 2002. “Poetry and Politics at the Games of Domitian.” In Flavian Rome. Culture, Image, Text, edited by A. Boyle and W. Dominik, 125–147. Leiden: Brill. Harrison, S.J. 2007. Generic Enrichment in Vergil and Horace. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Hautala, Svetlana. 2010. “Transmitting (and hiding) knowledge in ancient Greek pharmaceutical poetry.” In Language and the Scientific Imagination: Proceedings of the 11th Conference of the International Society for the Study of European Ideas (ISSEI), 28 July-2 August 2008. http://blogs.helsinki.fi/issei 2008. Hautala, Svetlana. 2014. “‘As a Matter of Fact, This is Not Difficult to Understand!’: The Address to the Reader in Greek and Latin Pharmacological Poetry.” In ‘Greek’ and ‘Roman’ in Latin Medical Texts. Studies in Cultural Change and Exchange in Ancient Medicine, edited by B. Maire, 183–200. Leiden and Boston: Brill. Heilen, Stephan. 2010. “Anubio Reconsidered.” Aestimatio 7: 127–192. Heitsch, Ernst. 1959. Die Mesomedes-Überlieferung. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht. Henrichs, Albert. 1999. “Demythologizing the Past, Mythicizing the Present: Myth, History, and the Supernatural at the Dawn of the Hellenistic Period.” In From Myth to Reason? Studies in the Development of Greek Thought, edited by R. Buxton, 223– 248. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Henry, W.B. 2005. “P.Oxy. 4711: Elegy (Metamorphoses?).” In The Oxyrhynchus Papyri LXIX, edited by N. Gonis et al., 46–53. London: Egypt Exploration Society. Hinds, Stephen. 1999. “First among women: Ovid, Tristia 1.6 and the traditions of the exemplary catalogue.” In amor: roma. Love and Latin Literature, Eleven Essays (and One Poem) by former Research Students presented to E.J. Kenney on his Seventy-fifth Birthday, edited by S. Braund and R. Mayer, 123–142. Cambridge: Cambridge Philological Society. Hinds, Stephen. 2000. “Essential Epic: Genre and Gender from Macer to Statius.” In Depew and Obbink, 221–244.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

113

Hirschberger, Martina. 2004. Gynaikōn Katalogos und Megalai Ehoiai: ein Kommentar zu den Fragmenten zweier hesiodeischer Epen München and Leipzig: K.G. Saur. Hollis, Adrian S. 1996. “Heroic Honours for Philitas?” ZPE 110: 56–62. Hollis, Adrian S. 2009. Callimachus: Hecale. Second Edition with Introduction, Text, Translation, and Enlarged Commentary. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Holton, John R. 2014. “Demetrios Poliorketes, Son of Poseidon and Aphrodite. Cosmic and Memorial Significance in the Athenian Ithyphallic Hymn.” Mnem. 67.3: 370–390. Hopkinson, Neil. 1988. A Hellenistic Anthology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hordern, J.H. 2002. The Fragments of Timotheus of Miletus. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Hornblower, Simon and Catherine Morgan, eds. 2007. Pindar’s Poetry, Patrons, and Festivals. From Archaic Greece to the Roman Empire. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Höschele, Regina. 2010. Die blütenlesende Muse. Poetik und Textualität antiker Epigrammsammlungen. Tübingen: G. Narr. Höschele, Regina. 2017. “Grenfell Erotic Fragment.” In Sider, 24–33. Hose, Martin. 1994. “Die römisch Liebselegie und die griechische Literatur: Überlegungen zu POxy 3723.” Philologus 138: 67–82. Hunter, Richard. 1989. “Winged Callimachus.” ZPE 76: 1–2. Hunter, Richard. 1996. Theocritus and the Archaeology of Greek Poetry. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hunter, Richard. 1997. “(B)ionic Man: Callimachus’ iambic programme.” PCPS 43: 41–52. Hunter, Richard. 2001. ‘On Coming After.’ Cambridge Inaugural Lecture, available at https://classics.cam.ac.uk/pdfs/faculty/rlh.pdf. Hunter, Richard. 2003. Theocritus. Encomium of Ptolemy Philadelphus. Berkeley: University of California Press. Hunter, Richard. 2005. The Hesiodic Catalogue of Women: Constructions and Reconstructions. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press. Hunter, Richard. 2005b. “The Hesiodic Catalogue and Hellenistic Poetry.” In Hunter, 239–265. Hunter, Richard. 2006. The Shadow of Callimachus. Studies in the reception of Hellenistic poetry at Rome. Roman literature and its contexts. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hunter, Richard. 2008. “Hesiod, Callimachus, and the invention of morality.” In Esiodo: cent’anni di papiri. Atti del convegno internazionale di studi, Firenze, 7-8 giugno 2007, edited by G. Bastianini and A. Casanova, 153–164. Firenze: Istituto Papirologico G. Vitelli. Hunter, Richard, Antonios Rengakos, and Evina Sistakou, eds. 2014. Hellenistic Studies at a Crossroads. Exploring Texts, Contexts and Metatexts. Berlin: De Gruyter.

114

Greene

Hunter, Richard and Ian Rutherford, eds. 2009. Wandering Poets in Ancient Greek Culture: Travel, Locality, and Pan-Hellenism. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press. Hutchinson, G.O. 1988. Hellenistic Poetry. Clarendon Press: Oxford. Hutchinson, G.O. 2003. “The Aetia: Callimachus’ Poem of Knowledge.” ZPE 145: 47–59. Hutchinson, G.O. 2006. “The Metamorphosis of a Metamorphosis: P.Oxy. 4711 and Ovid.” ZPE 155: 71–84. Hutchinson, G.O. 2009. “Read the Instructions: Didactic Poetry and Didactic Prose.” CQ 59.1: 196–211. Huys, Marc. 1991. Papyri Bruxelles Graecae II. 22, Le poemè élégiaque Hellénistique P.Brux.inv.E. 8934 et P.Sorb.inv.2254. Brussels: Musées royaux d’art et d’histoire. Ieranò, Giorgio. 1997. Il ditirambo di Dioniso: le testimonianze antiche. Roma: Istituti Editioriali e Poligrafici Internazionali. Isager, Signe. 1998. “The Pride of Halikarnassos. Editio princeps of an inscription from Salmakis.” ZPE 123: 1–23. Isager, Signe. 2004. “The Salmakis Inscription: Some reactions to the editio princeps.” In Isager and Pedersen, 9–14. Isager, Signe and Poul Pedersen. 2004. The Salmakis Inscription and Hellenistic Halikarnassos. Odense: University Press of Southern Denmark. Janko, Richard. 2001. Philodemus. On Poems, Book One. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Janko, Richard. 2011. Philodemus. On Poems, Books Three and Four. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Janko, Richard. 2020. Philodemus. On Poems, Book Two. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Jensen, Minna Skafte. 2004. “The Pride of Halikarnassos and Archaic Epic.” In Isager and Pedersen, 85–88. Kaesser, Christian. 2005. “The Poet and the ‘Polis.’ The Aetia as Didactic Poem.” In Wissensvermittlung in dichterischer Gestalt, edited by M. Horster and C. Reitz, 95–114. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner. Kampakoglou, Alexandros. 2013. “Victory, Mythology, and the Poetics of Praise in Callimachus’ Victoria Berenices.” Trends In Classics 5.1: 111–143. Kampakoglou, Alexandros. 2019. Studies in the reception of Pindar in Ptolemaic poetry. Berlin and Boston: De Gruyter. Kantzios, Ippokratis. 2016. “Imagining Images: Anacreontea 16 and 17.” In The Look of Lyric: Greek Song and the Visual, edited by V. Cazzato and A. Lardinois, 370–386. Leiden and Boston: Brill. Käppel, Lutz. 1992. Paian: Studien zur Geschichte einer Gattung. Berlin and New York: De Gruyter.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

115

Kerkhecker, Arnd. 1999. Callimachus’ Book of Iambi. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Klooster, Jacqueline. 2011. Poetry as Window and Mirror: Positioning the Poet in Hellenistic Poetry. Leiden: Brill. Klooster, Jacqueline. 2012. “‘εἰς ἔπη καὶ ἐλεγείας ἀνάγειν:’ The Erotika Pathemata of Parthenius of Nicaea.” In Brill’s Companion to Greek and Latin Epyllion, edited by M. Baumbach and S. Bär, 307–331. Leiden: Brill. Klooster, Jacqueline. 2013. “Apostrophe in Homer, Apollonius, and Callimachus.” In Über die Grenze: Metalepse in Text-und Bildmedien des Altertums, edited by U. Eisen and P. von Möllendorff, 151–173. Berlin and Boston: De Gruyter. Klooster, Jacqueline. 2019. “The Thera Episode in Argonautica IV Reconsidered in Light of Poetic Interaction between Apollonius and Callimachus.” In Barbantani, 57–76. Klooster, Jacqueline J., M.A. Harder, R.F. Regtuit, and G.C. Wakker, eds. 2019. Callimachus Revisited. New Perspectives in Callimachean Scholarship. Hellenistica Groningana 24. Leuven, Paris, Bristol, CT: Peeters. Knox, A.D. 1929. Herodes, Cercidas, and the Greek Choliambic Poets. Loeb Classical Library. Cambridge, MA and London: Harvard University Press. Knox, Peter E. 1993. “Philetas and Roman Poetry.” Papers of the Leeds International Latin Seminar 7: 61–83. Koenen, Ludwig. 1983. “Die Adaptation ägyptischer Königsideologie am Ptolemäerhof.” In Egypt and the Hellenistic World, edited by E. Van’t Dack, P. van Dessel, and W. van Gucht, 143–190. Leuven: Orientaliste. Koenen, Ludwig. 1993. “The Ptolemaic King as a Religious Figure.” In Images and Ideologies. Self-Definition in the Hellenistic World, edited by A. Bulloch, E. Gruen, A. Long, and A. Stewert, 25–115. Berkeley: University of California Press. Köhnken, Adolf. 2007. “Epinician Epigrams.” In Bing and Bruss, 295–312. Kolde, Antje. 2002/3. “Is Isyllos of Epidauros’ poetry typically Hellenistic?” Hermathena 173/4: 155–164. Kolde, Antje. 2003. Politique et religion chez Isyllos d’Épidaure. Basel: Schwabe. Kowalzig, Barbara and Peter Wilson, eds. 2013. Dithyramb in Context. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Krevans, Nita. 1993. “Fighting Against Antimachus: the Lyde and the Aetia reconsidered.” In Harder, Regtuit and Wakker, 149–160. Krevans, Nita. 2004. “Callimachus and the Pedestrian Muse.” In Harder, Regtuit, and Wakker, 173–183. Krevans, Nita. 2007. “The Arrangement of Epigrams in Collections.” In Bing and Bruss, 131–146. Krevans, Nita. 2011. “Callimachus’ Philology.” In Acosta-Hughes, Lehnus, and Stephens, 118–133.

116

Greene

Krevans, Nita and Alexander Sens. 2006. “Language and Literature.” In The Cambridge Companion to the Hellenistic World, edited by G. Bugh, 186–207. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press. Kroll, Wilhelm. 1924. Studien zum Verständnis der römischen Literatur. Stuttgart: J.B. Metzler. Kwapisz, Jan. 2009. “A Lesson for the King: Sotades’ Invective Against Ptolemy (fr. 1 and 16 Powell) and Callimachus’ Epigram 1 Pfeiffer.” Symbolae Philologorum Posnaniensium Graecae et Latinae 19: 85–94. Kwapisz, Jan. 2013. The Greek Figure Poems. Leuven, Paris, Walpole, MA: Peeters. Kwapisz, Jan. 2013b. “Were There Hellenistic Riddle Books?” In Kwapisz, Petrain, and Szymański, 148–167. Kwapisz, Jan. 2014. “Kraters, Myrtle, and Hellenistic Poetry.” In Harder, Regtuit, and Wakker, 195–215. Kwapisz, Jan. 2016. “Sotades on kings.” Eikasmos 27: 121–136. Kwapisz, Jan. 2018. “The Three Preoccupations of Simias of Rhodes.” Aitia 8.1, DOI: https://doi.org./10.4000/aitia.2117. Kwapisz, Jan, David Petrain, and Mikołaj Szymański, eds. 2013. The Muse at Play: Riddles and Wordplay in Greek and Latin Poetry. Berlin and Boston: De Gruyter. Ladianou, Katerina. 2005. “The Poetics of the Choreia: Imitation and Dance in the Anacreontea.” QUCC 80.2: 47–58. Lambin, Gérard. 2002. Anacréon. Fragments et imitations. Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes. Landels, John G. 1999. Music in Ancient Greece and Rome. London: Routledge. Lang, Philippa. 2009. “Goats and the Sacred Disease in Callimachus’ Acontius and Cydippe.” CP 104.1: 85–90. Lanna, Sara. 2013. Mesomede. Inno a Physis. Introduzione, testo critico, traduzione e commento. Roma: Quasar. La Penna, Antonio. 1988. “Ipse Coo plaudente Philitas (Stat. Silv. 1.2.252): Un’ipotesi su Fileta di Cos.” RFIC 116: 318–320. Latacz, J. 1985. “Das Plappermäulchen aus dem Katalog.” In Catalepton: Festschrift für Bernhard Wyss, edited by C. Schaüblin, 77–95. Basel: Seminar für Klassische Philologie der Universität Basel. Le Guen, Brigitte. 2001. Les association de Technites dionysiaques à l’époque hellénistique. Paris: Nancy, Association pour la Diffusion de la Recherche sur l’Antiquité. 2 volumes. Le Guen, Brigitte. 2007. “Kraton, Son of Zotichos: Artists’ Associations and Monarchic Power in the Hellenistic Period.” In Wilson, 246–278. Lehnus, Luigi. 2000. Nuova bibliografia callimachea (1489-1998). Alessandrina: Edizio dell’Orso.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

117

Lehnus, Luigi. 2004. “Argo, Argolide e la storiografia locale in Callimaco.” In La città di Argo: mito, storia, tradizione poetiche. Atti del Convegno Internazionale (Urbino 13-15 giugno 2002), P. Bernardini, ed., 201–209. Roma: Edizioni dell’Ateneo. Lehnus, Luigi. 2011. “The Aetia through Papyri.” In Acosta-Hughes, Lehnus, and Stephens, 39–62. Lelli, Emanuele. 2005. Callimaco, Giambi XIV-XVII. Introduzione, testo critico, traduzione e commento. Roma: Edizioni dell’Ateneo. Lelli, Emanuele. 2011. “Proverbs and Popular Sayings in Callimachus.” In Acosta-Hughes, Lehnus, and Stephens, 384–403. LeVen, Pauline. 2014. The Many-Headed Muse: Tradition and Innovation in Late Classical Greek Lyric Poetry. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. LeVen, Pauline. 2017. “Erythraean Paean to Asclepius.” In Sider, 18–24. LeVen, Pauline. 2017b. “Isyllus.” In Sider, 354–369. LeVen, Pauline. 2017c. “Philodamus of Scarpheia.” In Sider, 471–485. Leventhal, Max. 2015. “Counting on Epic: Mathematical Poetry and Homeric Epic in Archimedes’ Cattle Problem.” Ramus 44.1-2: 200–221. Lightfoot, Jane L. 1999. Parthenius of Nicaea. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Lightfoot, Jane L. 2002. “Nothing to do with the technītai of Dionysus?” In Greek and Roman Actors: Aspects of an Ancient Profession, edited by P.E. Easterling and E. Hall, 209–224. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lightfoot, Jane L. 2009. Hellenistic Collection. Philitas, Alexander of Aetolia, Hermesianax, Euphorion, Parthenius. Loeb Classical Library. Cambridge, MA and London: Harvard University Press. Lightfoot, J.L. 2018. “Callimachus, Hymn 2, and the Genre of Paean.” Aitia 8.1, DOI: 10.4000/aitia.2156. Livrea, Enrico. 1986. Studi Cercidei (P.Oxy. 1082). Bonn: Habelt. Livrea, Enrico. 1987. “La morte di Diogene Cinico.” In Filologia e forme litterarie. Studi offerti a Francesco Della Corte, volume 1, edited by F. della Corte. Urbino: Università degli studi di Urbino, 427–433. Livrea, Enrico. 1997. “Callimachus Senex, Cercidas Senex ed i loro critici.” ZPE 119: 37–42. Llewellyn-Jones, Lloyd and Stephanie Winder. 2011. “A key to Berenike’s Lock? The Hathoric model of queenship in early Ptolemaic Egypt.” In Erskine and Llewelleyn-Jones, 247–269. Lloyd-Jones, Hugh. 1994. “Again the Tattoo Elegy.” ZPE 101: 4–7. Lloyd-Jones, Hugh. 1999. “The Pride of Halicarnassus.” ZPE 124: 1–14, with corrigenda/ addenda ZPE 127: 63–65. Lloyd-Jones, Hugh and J.W.B. Barns. 1963. “Un nuovo frammento papiraceo dell’ elegia ellenistica.” SIFC 35: 205–227.

118

Greene

Loman, Pasi. 2004. “Travelling Female Entertainers of the Hellenistic Age.” Arctos 38: 59–73. Lomiento, Liana. 1993. Cercida. Introduzione, testimonianze, testo critico, traduzione e commento. Roma: Gruppo Editoriale Internazionale. Long, Anthony A. 1978. “Timon of Phlius: Pyrrhonist and Satirist.” PCPS 24: 68–91. López Cruces, Juan L. 1991. “El epitafio de Diógenes de Sinope y Cerc. fr. 54 Livrea (Consideraciones en torno a un estudio reciente sobre el tema).” Epos 7: 609–614. López Cruces, Juan L. 1995. Les Méliambes de Cercidas de Mégalopolis. Politique et Tradition Littéraire. Amsterdam: Hakkert. López Cruces, Juan L. 2004. “Sófocles, Diógenes y Cercidas.” In Sófocles el Hombre. Sófocles el Poeta, edited by A. Pérez Jiménez, C. Alcade Martín, R. Caballero Sanchez, 245–258. Malaga: Charta Antiqua. López Cruces, Juan L. 2018. “A Heavenly Son of Zeus (Diog. Laert. 6.76 = Cercidas, fr. 54 Livrea).” CQ 68.1: 91–96. López Cruces, Juan L. and Javier Campos Daroca. 1994. “The Metre of Cercidas.” ZPE 102: 81–94. Lowe, N.J. 2007. “Epinikian Eidography.” In Hornblower and Morgan, 167–176. Luccioni, Pascal. 2003. “Raisons de la prose et du mètre: Galien et la poésie didactique d’Andramachos l’Ancien.” In Rationnel et irrationnel dans la médecine ancienne et médiévale: Aspects historiques, scientifiques et culturels, edited by N. Palmieri, 59–75. St. Etienne: Publications de l’Université de St. Etienne. Lulli, Laura. 2011. Narrare in distici: l’elegia greca arcaica e classica di argomento storicomitico. Roma: Quasar. Luppe, Wolfgang. 1996. “Zur griechischen Liebes-Elegie P. Oxy. LIV 3723.” APF 42.2: 161–163. Luppe, Wolfgang. 2000. “Die Liebes-Elegie P.Oxy. 2885 fr. 1, 1-20 (SH 964).” ZPE 131: 19–21. Luppe, Wolfgang. 2006. “Die Verwandlungssage der Asterie im P.Oxy. 4711.” Prometheus 32: 55–56. Luz, Christine. 2008. “Das Rätsel der griechischen Figurengeschichte.” MH 65.1: 22–33. Luz, Christine. 2010. Technopaignia. Formspiele in der griechischen Dichtung. Leiden and Boston: Brill. Lynn, Jennifer. 1995. Narrators and Narration in Callimachus. Diss. Columbia. Ma, John. 2007. “A Horse from Teos: Epigraphical Notes on the Ionian Hellespontine Association of Dionysiac Artists.” In Wilson, 215–245. Magnelli, Enrico. 1999. Alexandri Aetoli testimonia et fragmenta. Firenze: Università degli studi di Firenze, Dipartimento di Scienze dell’Antichità ‘Giorgio Pasquali.’ Magnelli, Enrico. 1999b. “POxy. 3723.1-2: Il mito di Arginno?” ZPE 125: 87–90. Magnelli, Enrico. 2000. “Alessandro Etolo poeta ‘di provincia’ (o i limiti del callimachismo).” In Pretagostini, 113–126.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

119

Magnelli, Enrico. 2006. “On the New Fragments of Greek Poetry from Oxyrhynchus.” ZPE 158: 9–12. Magnelli, Enrico. 2015. “A Note on Castorion’s Hymn to Pan (SH 310): Metre and Syntax, Reading and Listening.” G&R 62.1: 87–91. Manakidou, Flora P. 2012. “Philetas, Theocritus, and Thorny Plants: A Reconsideration of Their Relationship.” Prometheus 38.1: 107–127. Manakidou, Flora P. 2013. ΚΑΛΛΙΜΑΧΟΣ, Εἰς λοῦτρα τῆς Παλλάδος. Athens: Daidalos. Manakidou, Flora P. 2017. “Past and Present in the Fifth Hymn of Callimachus: Mimesis, Aitology, and Reality.” In Harder, Regtuit and Wakker, 181–210. Manieri, Alessandra. 2009. Agoni poetico musicali nella Grecia antica. Vol I. La Beozia. Pisa and Roma: Fabrizio Serra. Mann, Christian, Sofie Remijsen, and Sebastian Scharff, eds. 2016. Athletics in the Hellenistic World. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner. Männlein-Robert, Irmgard. 2007. Stimme, Schrift und Bild: zum Verhältnis der Künste in der hellenistischen Dichtung. Heidelberg: Winter. Marcos Macedo, José. 2010. A palavra ofertada: um estudo retórico dos hinos gregos e indianos. Campinas: Editora Unicamp. Marcovich, Miroslav. 1979. “Phanocles ap. Stob. 4.20.47.” AJP 100.3: 360–366. Marcovich, Miroslav. 1988. Studies in Graeco-Roman Religions and Gnosticism. Leiden: Brill. Marinone, Nino. 1997. Berenice da Callimaco a Catullo: testo critico, traduzione e commento: nuova edizione ristrutturata, ampliata e aggiornata. Bologna: Pàtron. Martina, Antonio and Adele-Teresa Cozzoli, eds. 2006. Callimachea I. Roma: Scienze e Lettere. Martinelli, Maria Chiara. 2020. “Documenting Music.” In A Companion to Ancient Greek and Roman Music, edited by T. Lynch and E. Rocconi, 103–116. Hoboken: Wiley Blackwell. Massaro, Flavio. 2018. Agoni poetico-musicali nella Grecia antica. Vol. 3: Sparta. Pisa and Roma: Fabrizio Serra. Massimilla, Giulio. 1996. Callimaco. Aitia. Libro primo e secondo. Pisa: Giardini. Massimilla, Giulio. 2006. “Il sepolcro di Simonide (Callimaco, fr. 64 Pf.).” In Martina and Cozzoli, 33–52. Massimilla, Giulio. 2010. Callimaco. Aitia. Libro terto e quartro. Pisa: Fabrizio Serra. Massimilla, Giulio. 2011. “The Aetia through Papryi.” In Acosta-Hughes, Lehnus, and Stephens, 39–62. Massimilla, Giulio. 2014. “Callimachus and Early Greek Elegy.” In Hunter, Rengakos, and Sistakou, 3–11. Mathiesen, Thomas J. 1999. Apollo’s Lyre. Greek Music and Music Theory in Antiquity and the Middle Ages. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press.

120

Greene

Matthews, Victor J. 1996. Antimachus of Colophon. Text and Commentary. Leiden, New York, and Köln: Brill. Merkelbach, Reinhold. 1981. “Das Königtum der Ptolemäer und die hellenistischen Dichter.” In Alexandrien. Kulturbegegnungen dreier Jahrtausende im Schmelztiegel einer mediterranen Großstadt, edited by N. Hinske, 27–35. Mainz am Rhein: P. von Zabern. Merkelbach, Reinhold, and J. Stauber. 1998. Steinepigramme aus dem griechischen Osten. Vol. 1. Berlin and New York: De Gruyter. Moles, J.L. “The Cynics and politics.” 1995. In Justice and Generosity: Studies in Hellenistic Social and Political Philosophy, edited by A. Laks and M. Schofield, 120– 158. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press. Montana, Fausto. 2015. “Hellenistic Scholarship.” In Brill’s Companion to Ancient Greek Scholarship. Vol. I: History, Disciplinary Profiles, edited by F. Montanari, F. Matthaios, and A. Rengakos, 60–183. Leiden and Boston: Brill. Montanari, Franco and Luigi Lehnus, eds. 2002. Callimaque. Sept Exposés suivis de Discussions. Vandœuvres and Genève: Fondation Hardt. Morelli, Alfredo M. 1994. “Sul Papiro di Ossirinco LIV 3723. Considerazioni sui caratteri dell’elegia erotica ellenistica alla luce dei nuovi ritrovamenti papiracei.” RFIC 122: 385–421. Mori, Anatole. 2008. The Politics of Apollonius Rhodius’ Argonautica. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press. Morrison, A.D. 2007. The Narrator in Archaic Greek and Hellenistic Poetry. Cambridge University Press: Cambridge. Morrison, A.D. 2011. “Callimachus’ Muses.” In Acosta-Hughes, Lehnus, and Stephens, 329–348. Morrison, A.D. 2013. “Speaking from the Tomb? The Disappearing Epitaph of Simonides in Callimachus, Aetia Fr. 64 Pf.” In Inscriptions and their Uses in Greek and Latin Literature, edited by P. Liddel and P. Low, 289–301. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Most, Glenn W. 2014. “Τὸν ’Ανακρέοντα μιμοῦ· Imitation and Enactment in the Anacreontics.” In Baumbach and Dümmler, 145–159. Moyer, Ian. 2016. “Isidorus at the Gate of the Temple.” In Greco-Egyptian Interactions: Literature, Translation, and Culture, 500 BC-AD 300, edited by I. Rutherford, 209– 244. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Müller, Alexander. 2010. Die Carmina Anacreontea und Anakreon. Ein literarisches Generationenverhältnis. Tübingen: G. Narr. Murray, Jackie. 2010. “Hellenistic Elegy: Out from Under the Shadow of Callimachus.” In Clauss and Cuypers, 106–116. Murray, Jackie. 2019. “Quarreling with Callimachus: a Response to Annette Harder.” In Barbantani, 77–106.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

121

Nelson, Thomas J. 2019. “Metapoetic Manoeuvres between Callimachus and Apollonius: a Response to Annette Harder.” In Barbantani, 107–127. Netz, Reviel. 2009. Ludic Proof: Greek Mathematics and the Alexandrian Aesthetic. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press. Neumann-Hartmann, Arlette. 2004. “Der Paian des Philodamus und Dionysos und der Ausbruch des. 4 Heiligen Krieges.” MH 61.1: 9–31. Nikitinski, Oleg. 1996. Kallimachos-Studien. Frankfurt: Lang. Nisetich, Frank J. 2001. The Poems of Callimachus. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Nobili, Cecilia. 2011. “Threnodic Elegy in Sparta.” GRBS 51: 26–48. Noussia, Maria. 2007. “La preghiera del filosofo: Cratete Tebano, SH 359.” In La cultura letteraria ellenistica: Persistenza, innovazione, transmission, Roma 19–21 September 2005, edited by R. Pretagostini and E. Dettori, 125–139. Roma: Quasar. Noussia-Fantuzzi, Maria. 2010. Solon the Athenian: The Poetic Fragments. Leiden and Boston: Brill. Noussia-Fantuzzi, Maria. 2017. “Crates of Thebes.” In Sider, 264–272. Obbink, Dirk. 1999. “4503-4507. Anoubion, Elegiacs.” In The Oxyrhynchus Papyri LXVI, edited by N. Gonis et al., 57–109. London: London: Egypt Exploration Society. Obbink, Dirk. 2006. Anubio Poeta Astrologus. Carmen Astrologicum Elegiacum. München and Leipzig: K.G. Saur. Obbink, Dirk. 2006b. “A New Archilochus Poem.” ZPE 156: 1–9. Obbink, Dirk and Richard Rutherford, eds. 2011. Culture in Pieces. Essays on Ancient Texts in Honour of Peter Parsons. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press. O’Hara, James J. 1996. “Sostratus Suppl. Hell. 733: A Lost, Possibly Catullan-Era Elegy on the Six Sex Changes of Tiresias.” TAPA 126: 173–219. O’Sullivan, Laura. 2008. “Le Roi Soleil: Demetrius Poliorcetes and the Dawn of the Sun-King.” Antichthon 42: 78–99. Overduin, Floris. 2014. Nicander of Colophon’s Theriaca. A Literary Commentary. Leiden and Boston: Brill. Overduin, Floris. 2017. “Eudemus.” In Sider, 287–293. Overduin, Floris. 2018. “A Riddling Recipe? Philo of Tarsus’ Against Colic (SH 690).” Mnem. 71.3: 593–615. Overduin, Floris. 2019. “The Didactic Callimachus and the Homeric Nicander: Reading the Aetia Through the Theriaca?” In Klooster, Harder, Regtuit, and Wakker, 265–283. Overduin, Floris. 2019b. “Elegiac Pharmacology: The Didactic Heirs to Nicander?” In Didactic Poetry from Homer and Hesiod Onwards: Knowledge, Power, Tradition, edited by L.G. Canevaro and D. O’Rourke, 97–122. Swansea: Classical Press of Wales. Palmore, Aaron. 2016. “Callimachus’ Victoria Berenices: A Case Study in Elegiac Epyllion.” Aitia 6. DOI: https://doi.org/10.4000/aitia.1438.

122

Greene

Palumbo Stracca, Bruna M. 2003. “L’Uovo di Simia: metro e figura.” In Studi di filologia e tradizione greca in memoria di Aristide Colonna, edited by F. Benedetti and S. Grandolini, 571–591. Napoli: Edizioni Scientifiche Italiane. Palumbo Stracca, Bruna M. 2007. “La dedica di ‘Paride Simichida’ (Syrinx A.P. XV 21 = XLVII Gallavotti): aspetti metaletterari di un carmen figuratum.” In L’epigramma greco: problemi e prospettive, edited by G. Lozza and S. Tempesta, 113–136. Milano: Cisalpino. Panayotakis, Costas. 2014. “Hellenistic Mime and its Reception in Rome.” In The Oxford Handbook of Greek and Roman Comedy, edited by M. Fontaine, A. Scarfuro, 378–396. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Papathomopoulos, Manolis. 1962. “Un poemè élégiaque inédit sur Méléagre et le sanglier de Calydon.” Recherches de Papyrologie 2: 99–111. Pappas, Alexandra. 2013. “The Treachery of Verbal Images: Viewing the Greek technopaegnia.” In Kwapisz, Petrain, and Szymański, 199–224. Parsons, Peter. 1977. “Callimachus: Victoria Berenices.” ZPE 25: 1–51. Parsons, Peter. 1988. “Eine neugefundene griechische Liebeselegie.” MH 45: 65–74. Payne, Mark. 2011. “Iambic Theater: The Childhood of Callimachus Revisited.” In Acosta-Hughes, Lehnus, and Stephens, 493–509. Pedersen, Poul. 2004. “The Building Remains at the Salmakis Fountain I.” In Isager and Pederson, 15–30. Pelling, Christopher. 1990. “Childhood and Personality in Greek Biography.” In Characterization and Individuality in Greek Literature, edited by C. Pelling, 213–244. Oxford: Oxford Classical Press. Petrovic, Ivana. 2007. Von den Toren des Hades zu den Hallen des Olymp: Artemiskult bei Theokrit und Kallimachos. Leiden and Boston: Brill. Petrovic, Ivana. 2011. “Callimachus and Contemporary Religion: the Hymn to Apollo.” In Acosta-Hughes, Lehnus, and Stephens, 264–287. Petrovic, Ivana and Andrej Petrovic 2006. “‘Look who is talking now!’: Speaker and Communication in Greek Metrical Sacred Regulations.” In Ritual and Communication in the Graeco-Roman World, edited by E. Stavrianopolou, 111–139. Liège: Presses universitaires de Liège. Pfeiffer, Rudolf. 1949–1953. Callimachus. Oxford: Clarendon. 2 volumes. Pfeiffer, Rudolf. 1968. History of Classical Scholarship: From the Beginnings to the End of the Hellenistic Age. Oxford: Clarendon. Pöhlmann, Egert and M.L. West. 2001. Documents of Ancient Greek Music. The Extant Melodies and Fragments. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Pordomingo Pardo, Francisco. 2013. Antologías griegas de época helenística en papiro. Firenze: Edizioni Gonnelli. Porter, James I. 2011. “Against λεπτότης: Rethinking Hellenistic Aesthetics.” In Erskine and Llewellyn-Jones, 271–312.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

123

Poulsen, Birte. 2004. “The Building Remains at the Salmakis Fountain II.” In Isager and Pedersen, 31–42. Powell, John U. 1925. Collectanea Alexandrina. Oxford: Clarendon. Power, Timothy. 2010. The Culture of Kitharôidia. Washington, DC: Center for Hellenic Studies. Prauscello, Lucia. 2006. Singing Alexandria: Music Between Practice and Textual Transmission. Leiden and Boston: Brill. Prauscello, Lucia. 2009. “Wandering Poetry, ‘travelling’ music: Timotheus’ muse and some case studies of shifting cultural identities.” In Hunter and Rutherford, 106–136. Prauscello, Lucia. 2011. “Digging Up the Musical Past: Callimachus and the New Music.” In Acosta-Hughes, Lehnus, and Stephens, 289–308. Pretagostini, Roberto. 1984. “Sotade poeta del biasimo e del dissenso.” In Ricerche sulla poesia alessandrina. Teocrito, Callimaco, Sotade, 139–147. Roma: Edizioni dell’Ateneo. Pretagostini, Roberto. 1995. “L’autore Ellenistico fra poesia e ‘filologia.’ Problemi di esegesi, di metrica, e di attendibilità del racconto.” Aev. Ant. 8: 33–46. Pretagostini, Roberto. 1997. “La ripresa teocritea della poesia erotica arcaica e tardoarcaica (Idd. 29 e 30).” MD 38: 9–24. Pretagostini, Roberto, ed. 2000. La Letteratura ellenistica. Problemi e prospettive di ricerca. Atti del Colloquio internazionale, Università di Roma “Tor Vergata,” 29-30 aprile 1997. Roma: Quasar. Pretagostini, Roberto. 2007. “Intellettuali e potere politico nell’età ellenistica: la duplice valenza metaforica di kéntron in Sotade fr. 1 Powell.” Ricerche sulla Poesia Alessandrina II: Forme allusive e contenuti nuovi, 135–138. Roma: Quasar. Priestley, Jessica. 2014. Herodotus and Hellenistic Culture: Literary Studies in the Reception of the Histories. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Prioux, Évelyne. 2009. “Poeticizing Natural Phenomena: The Case of Callimachus.” In Harder, Regtuit, and Wakker, 121–148. Prioux, Évelyne. 2011. “Callimachus’ Queens.” In Acosta-Hughes, Lehnus, and Stephens, 201–224. Provenzale, Federica. 2009. Filico di Corcira: testimonianze e frammenti. Introduzione, testo critico, traduzione e commento. Diss., Roma Tre. Psaroudakis, Stelios. 2018. “Mesomedes’ Hymn to the Sun: The Precipitation of Logos in the Melos.” In Music, Text, and Culture in Ancient Greece, edited by T. Phillips and A. D’Angour, 121–138. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Puelma, Mario. 1995. Labor et lima. Kleine Schriften und Nachträge. Basel: Basel Schwabe. Radke, Gyburg. 2007. Die Kindheit des Mythos. Die Erfindung der Literaturgeschichte in der Antike. München: C.H. Beck. Ragone, Giuseppe. 2006. “Callimaco e le tradizioni locali della Ionia asiatica.” In Martina and Cozzoli, 71–114.

124

Greene

Raimondi, Valentina. 1995–1998. “L’Inno a Roma di Melinno.” Helikon 35–8: 283–307. Rawles, Richard. 2006. “Homeric Beginnings in the ‘Tattoo Elegy’.” CQ 56.2: 486–495. Rawles, Richard. 2017. “The Tattoo Elegy.” In Sider, 40–55. Rawles, Richard. 2018. “Simonides on Tombs and the ‘Tomb of Simonides’.” In Tombs of the Ancient Poets: Between Literary Reception and Material Culture, edited by N. Goldschmidt and B. Graziosi, 51–68. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Reed, Jay. 2000. “Arsinoe’s Adonis and the Poetics of Ptolemaic Imperialism.” TAPA 130: 319–351. Reed, J.D. 2006. “New Verses on Adonis.” ZPE 158: 76–82. Regenauer. Janna. 2015. Mesomedes. Übersetzung und Kommentar. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang. Renehan, R. 1982. “Aristotle as Lyric Poet: The Hermias Poem.” GRBS 23: 251–274. Romano, Allen J. 2009. “The Invention of Marriage: Hermaphroditus and Salmacis at Halicarnassus and in Ovid.” CQ 59.2: 543–561. Romano, Allen J. 2011. “Callimachus and Contemporary Criticism.” In Acosta-Hughes, Lehnus, and Stephens, 309–328. Rosen, Ralph. 2017. “Cercidas.” In Sider, 224–236. Rosenmeyer, Patricia. 1992. The Poetics of Imitation. Anacreon and the anacreontic tradition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Rosokoki, Alexandra. 1995. Die Erigone des Eratosthenes. Eine kommentierte Ausgabe der Fragmente. Heidelberg: C. Winter. Rossi, Luigi E. 1971. “I generi letterari e le loro leggi scritte e non scritte nelle letterature classiche.” BICS 18: 69–94. Rossi, Luigi E. 2000. “La Letteratura alessandrina e il rinnovamento dei generi letterari della tradizione.” In Pretagostini, 149–160. Rudolph, Alexander. 2014. “The Problem of Self-Thematisation in the Carmina Anacreontea 1, 6, and 32.” In Baumbach and Dümmler, 131–144. Rutherford, Ian. 2000. “Formulas, voice, and death in Ehoie-poetry, the Hesiodic Gunaikon Katalogos, and the Odysseian Nekuia.” In Depew and Obbink, 81–96. Rutherford, Ian. 2001. Pindar’s Paeans. A Reading of the Fragments with a Survey of the Genre. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Rutherford, Ian. 2004. “χορὸς εἷς τῆσδε τῆς πόλεως (Xen. Mem. 3.3.12): Song-Dance and State-Pilgrimage at Athens.” In Music and the Muses: the culture of ‘mousikē’ in the classical Athenian city, edited by P. Murray and P. Wilson, 67–90. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Rutherford, Ian. 2009. “Aristodama and the Aetolians: an itinerant poetess and her agenda.” In Hunter and Rutherford, 237–248. Rutherford, Ian. 2014. State Pilgrims and Sacred Observers in Ancient Greece. A Study of Theōriā and Theōroi. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

125

Santoni, Anna. 1993. “L’inno di Aristotele per Ermia di Atarneo,” in La Componente autobiografica nella poesia greca e Latina fra realtà e artificio letterario, edited by G. Arrighetti and F. Montanari, 179–195. Pisa: Giardini. Sbardella, Livio. 2000. Filita. Testimonianze e frammenti poetici. Introduzione, edizione e commento. Roma: Quasar. Sbardella, Livio. 2018. “Aulodes and Rhapsodes: Performance and Forms of Greek Elegy from Mimnermus to Hermesianax.” Aitia 8.1 (http://journals.openedition.org/ aitia/2247; DOI: 10.4000/aitia.2247). Sbardella, Livio. 2019. “Il Prologo e la Proekdosis: brevi osservazioni su performance e libro nell’opera di Callimaco e Apollonio.” In Barbantani, 128–140. Schmitz, Thomas A. 1999. “ ‘I Hate All Common Things’: The Reader’s Role in Callimachus’ Aetia Prologue.” HSCP 99: 151–178. Schröder, Stephan. 1999. Geschichte und Theorie der Gattung Paian: eine kritische Untersuchung mit einem Ausblick auf Behandlung und Auffassung der lyrischen Gattungen bei den alexandrinischen Philologen. Stuttgart and Leipzig: Teubner. Schroeder, Chad Matthew. 2006. “Hesiod and the Fragments of Alexander Aetolus.” In Harder, Regtuit, and Wakker, 287–302. Schubert, Paul. 2015. Anoubion. Poème Astrologique. Témoignages et Fragments. Paris: Les Belles Lettres. Schwinge, Ernst-Richard. 1986. Künstlichkeit von Kunst: zur Geschichtlichkeit der alexandrinischen Poesie. München: C.H. Beck. Scodel, Ruth. 1980. “Hesiod Redivivus.” GRBS 21: 301–320. Scodel, Ruth. 2010. “Iambos and Parody.” In Clauss and Cuypers, 251–266. Selden, Daniel L. 1998. “Alibis.” CA 17.2: 289–412. Sens, Alexander. 2011. Asclepiades of Samos. Epigrams and Fragments. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Sens, Alexander. 2014. “Dialect in the Anacreontea.” In Baumbach and Dümmler, 97–112. Sevieri, Roberta. 1997. “Riproduzione e rivisitazione: Applicazione interpretative di strategie encomiastiche pindariche nella Victoria Berenices de Callimaco.” Acme 50: 1997. Shear, Julia L. 2013. “Choruses and Tripods: The Politics of the Choregia in Roman Athens.” In Kowalzig and Wilson, 389–408. Sheppard, Alan. 2018. “Mimeticism, Performance, and Re-Performance in Callimachus’ Hymn to Apollo and Inscribed Paians.” In Harder, Regtuit, and Wakker, 293–316. Sider, David. 2006. “The New Simonides and the Question of Historical Elegy.” AJP 127.3: 327–346. Sider, David. 2014. “Didactic poetry: The Hellenistic invention of a pre-existing genre.” In Hunter, Rengakos, and Sistakou, 13–30. Sider, David. 2016. “Simonides’ Personal Elegies.” In Swift and Carey, 140–154.

126

Greene

Sider, David, ed. 2017. Hellenistic Poetry: A Selection. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Sider, David. 2017b. “The Salmacis Inscription.” In Sider, 32–40. Sider, David. 2017c. “Archimedes.” In Sider, 142–148. Sider, David. 2017d. “Hermesianax.” In Sider, 322–338. Sineux, Pierre. 1999. “Le péan d’Isyllos: forme et finalités d’un chant religieux dans le culte d’Asklépios à Épidaure.” Kernos 12: 153–166. Sistakou, Evina. 2007. “Glossing Homer: Homeric Exegesis in Early Third Century Epigram.” In Bing and Bruss, 391–408. Sistakou, Evina. 2009. “Callimachus Hesiodicus Revisited.” In Brill’s Companion to Hesiod, edited by F. Montanari, C. Tsagalis, and A. Rengakos, 219–252. Leiden and Boston: Brill. Sistakou, Evina. 2009b. “Poeticizing natural phenomena: The case of Callimachus.” In Harder, Regtuit, and Wakker, 177–200. Sistakou, Evina, ed. 2017. Hellenistic Lyricism. Trends in Classics 9.2. Berlin and Boston: De Gruyter. Sistakou, Evina. 2017b. “Introduction.” In Sistakou, 221–225. Sistakou, Evina. 2017c. “Theocritus’ Idylls: On the Verge of Modern Lyric.” In Sistakou, 281–316. Sistakou, Evina. 2019. “Denarrating the Narratable in the Aetia: A Postmodern Take on Callimachean Aesthetics.” In Klooster, Harder, Regtuit, and Wakker, 329–350. Skinner, Marilyn B. 2005. “Homer’s Mother.” In Women Poets in Ancient Greece and Rome, edited by E. Greene, 91–111. Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press. Slings, S.R. 1993. “Hermesianax and the Tattoo Elegy (P. Brux. inv. e 8934 and P. Sorb. inv. 2254).” ZPE 98: 29–37. Snell, Bruno. 1948. Die Entdeckung des Geistes: Studien zur Entstehung des europäischen Denkens bei den Griechen. Hamburg: Claasen and Groverts. Solmsen, Friedrich. 1947. “Eratosthenes’ Erigone. A Reconstruction.” TAPA 78: 252–275. Sourvinou-Inwood, Christiane. 2004. “Hermaphroditos and Salmakis: The Voice of Halikarnassos.” In Isager and Pedersen, 59–84. Spanoudakis, Konstantinos. 2002. Philitas of Cos. Leiden, New York, Köln: Brill. Spanoudakis, Konstantinos. 2004. “Adesp. Pap. Eleg. SH 964: Parthenius?” APF 50: 37–41. Spawforth, Tony. 2007. “‘Kapitoleia Olympia’: Roman emperors and Greek agones.” In Hornblower and Morgan, 377–390. Squire, Michael J. 2013. “Invertire l’ekphrasis: l’epigramma ellenistico e la traslazione di parola e immagine.” In Ekphrasis, Estetica: Studi e Richerche, edited by S. Marino and A. Stavru, 81–107. Roma: Aracne editrice. Stehle, Eva. 1997. Performance and Gender in Ancient Greece. Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

127

Stephens, Susan A. 1998. “Callimachus at Court.” In Harder, Regtuit, and Wakker, 167–185. Stephens, Susan A. 2002. “Egyptian Callimachus.” In Montanari and Lehnus, 235–226. Stephens, Susan A. 2003. Seeing Double: Intercultural Poetics in Ptolemaic Alexandria. Berkeley: University of California Press. Stephens, Susan A. 2011. “Remapping the Mediterranean: The Argo Adventure in Apollonius and Callimachus.” In Obbink and Rutherford, 188–207. Stephens, Susan A. 2015. Callimachus: The Hymns. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press. Stephens, Susan A. 2019. “Celebrating the Games.” In Klooster, Harder, Regtuit, and Wakker, 351–368. Stephens, Susan A. 2019b. “Athletics in Apollonius and Callimachus.” In Barbantani, 141–146. Stern, Jacob. 1979. “Phanocles’ Fragment 1.” QUCC 3: 135–143. Stevens, Kathryn. 2016. “Empire Begins at Home: Local Elites and Imperial Ideologies in Hellenistic Greece and Babylonia.” In Cosmopolitanism and Empire: Universal Rulers, Local Elites, and Cultural Integration in the Ancient Near East and Mediterranean, edited by M. Lavan, R. Payne, and J. Weisweiler, 65–88. New York: Oxford University Press. Stewart, Andrew. 1982. “Dionysus at Delphi: The Pediments of the Sixth Temple of Apollo and the Religious Reform in the Age of Alexander (Appendix: Philodamus’ ‘Paian to Dionysus’).” In Macedonia and Greece in Late Classical and Early Hellenistic Times, edited by B. Barr-Sharrar and E. Borza, 205–227. Washington, DC: National Gallery of Art. Striker, Gisela. 1996. “The Criterion of Truth.” In Essays on Hellenistic Epistemology and Ethics, 22–76. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Strodel, Silvia. 2002. Zur Überlieferung und zum Verständnis der hellenistischen Technopaignien. Frankfurt am Main and Bern: Peter Lang. Strootman, Rolf. 2010. “Literature and Kings.” In Clauss and Cuypers, 30–45. Strootman, Rolf. 2017. The Birdcage of the Muses. Patronage and the Arts and Sciences at the Ptolemaic Imperial Court, 305-222 BCE. Leuven, Paris, Bristol, CT: Peeters. Svavarsson, Svavar. 2002. “Pyrrho’s Dogmatic Nature.” CQ 52.1: 248–256. Swift, Laura and Chris Carey, eds. 2016. Iambus and Elegy: New Approaches. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Tecusan, Manuela. 2004. The Fragments of the Methodists. Volume One: Methodism outside Soranus. Leiden and Boston: Brill. Tedeschi, Gennaro. 2002. “Lo spettacolo in età ellenistica e tardo antica nella documentazione epigrafica e papiracea.” PapLup. 11: 89–187. Thalmann, William. 2011. Apollonius of Rhodes and the Spaces of Hellenism. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press.

128

Greene

Thomas, Oliver. 2015. “Greek Hymnic Spaces.” In New Worlds From Old Texts, edited by E. Barker, S. Bouzarovski, C. Pelling, and L. Isaksen, 24–46. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Thomas, Richard. 1992. “The Old Man Revisited: Memory, Reference and Genre in Virg. Georg. 4.116-48.” MD 29: 35–70. Tomberg, Karl-Heinz. 1968. Die Kaine Historia des Ptolemaios Chennos. Bonn: Habelt. Torres Guerra, Jose B. 2003. “Melino: Un Himno a Roma (Suppl. Hell. 541).” Vrbs aeterna. Pamplona: Ediciones Universidad de Navarra, 761–772. Totelin, Laurence M.V. 2012. “And to end on a poetic note: Galen’s authorial strategies in the pharmacological books.” Studies in History and Philosophy of Science 43: 307–315. Tsantsanoglou, K. 2012. “The Statue of Philitas.” ZPE 180: 104–116. Tsitsiridis, Stavros. 2011. “Greek Mime in the Roman Empire (P.Oxy. 413 Charition and Moicheutria).” Logeion 1: 184–232. Tueller, Michael. 2017. “Phanocles.” In Sider, 462–471. Vamvouri-Ruffy, Maria. 2004. La fabrique du divin. Les Hymnes de Callimaque à la lumière des Hymnes homériques et des Hymnes épigraphiques. Liège: Centre International d’Étude de la Religion Grecque Antique. van Bremen, Riet. 2007. “‘The Entire House is Full of Crowns’: Hellenistic Agones and the Commemoration of Victory.” In Hornblower and Morgan, 345–376. Vandorpe, Katelijn, ed. The Bilingual Family Archive of Dryton, His Wife Apollonia and Their Daughter Senmouthis (P. Dryton). Brussel: Union Académique Internationale & Koninklijke Vlaamse Academie van België voor Wetenschappen en Kunsten. van Nijf, Otto M. and Christina G. Williamson. 2016. “Connecting the Greeks. Festival Networks in the Hellenistic World.” In Mann, Remijsen, and Scharff, 43–71. Vergados, A. 2015. “Narrative Strategies and Hesiodic Reception in Callimachus’ Λουτρὰ Παλλάδος.” In Faulkner and Hodkinson, 69–86. Versnel, Hendrik S. 2011. Coping with the Gods. Wayward Readings in Greek Theology. Leiden: Brill. Vestrheim, Gjert. 2012. “Voice and Addressee in the Mimetic Hymns of Callimachus.” Symbolae Osloenses 86.1: 21–73. Visscher, M.S. (Marijn). 2017. “Imperial Asia: Past and Present in Callimachus’ Lock of Berenice.” In Harder, Regtuit and Wakker, 211–232. Vogt, Sabine. 2005. “‘… er schrieb in Versen, und er tat recht daran?’: Lehrdichtung im Urteil Galens’.” In Antike Fachtexte: Ancient Technical Texts, edited by T. Fögen, 51–78. Berlin and New York: De Gruyter. Wagman, Robert S. 1995. Inni di Epidauro. Pisa: Giardini. Wagman, Robert S. 2013. “From Song to Monument: Sacred Poetry and Religious Revival in Roman Epidaurus.” In Hymns de la Grèce antique. Approches littéraires

Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry

129

et historiques, ed. R. Bouchon, P. Brillet-Dubois, and N. Le Meur-Weissman, 219–231. Lyon: Maison de l’Orient et de la Méditerranée. Watson, Lindsay. 1991. Arae: The Curse Poetry of Antiquity. Leeds: Francis Cairns. Weber, Gregor. 2011. “Poet and Court.” In Acosta-Hughes, Lehnus, and Stephens, 225–244. Welch, Tara. 2015. Tarpeia: Workings of a Roman Myth. Columbus: The Ohio State University Press. West, M.L. 1974. Studies in Greek Elegy and Iambus. Berlin and New York: De Gruyter. West, M.L. 1982. Greek Metre. Oxford: Oxford University Press. West, M.L. 1984 [rev. 1993] Carmina Anacreontea. Stuttgart and Leipzig: Teubner. West, M.L. 1985. The Hesiodic Catalogue of Women. Oxford: Clarendon. West, M.L. 1990. “The Anacreontea.” In Sympotica. A Symposium on the Symposium, edited by O. Murray. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 272–276. West, M.L. 1992. Ancient Greek Music. Clarendon: Oxford. West, M.L. 1993. Carmina Anacreontea. Stuttgart and Leipzig: Teubner. West, M.L. 2004–2005. “The Transmission of Greek Music.” Classica 17-18: 155–163. White, Stephan A. 1994. “Callimachus on Plato and Cleombrotus.” CP 94: 168–181. Whitmarsh, Tim. 2013. Beyond the Second Sophistic. Adventures in Greek Post-Classicism. Berkeley: University of California Press. Wickkiser, Bronwen L. 2013. “The Iamatika of the Milan Posidippus.” CQ 63.2: 623–632. Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, Ulrich von. 1877. “Die Thukydideslegende.” Hermes 12: 326–367. Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, Ulrich von. 1896. “Des Mädchens Klage: eine alexandrinische Arie.” Nachrichten von der Königlichen Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften zu Göttingen. Philologisch-historische Klasse 1-4: 209–232. Göttingen. Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, Ulrich von. 1924. Hellenistische Dichtung in der Zeit des Kallimachos. Berlin: Weidmannsche. Williams, Frederick. 1994. “Cercidas, Caelius, and Unsafe Sex: Τυνδαρέοιο Γαμβρόϲ (Cerc. fr. 2.2.8 Livrea).” ZPE 102: 76–80. Williams, Frederick. 2002. “Cercidas fr. 3 Livrea: Canine Language in a Cynic Poet?” ZPE 139: 40–42. Williams, Frederick. 2006. “Cercidas: The Man and the Poet.” In Harder, Regtuit, and Wakker, 345–356. Williams, G.D. 1995. “Cleombrotus of Ambracia: Interpretations of a Suicide from Callimachus to Agathias.” CQ 45.1: 154–169. Wilson, Peter. 2000. The Athenian Institution of the Khoregia: The Chorus, the City, and the Stage. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wilson, Peter, ed. 2007. The Greek Theatre and Festivals. Documentary Studies. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

130

Greene

Wyss, Bernhard. 1936. Antimachi Colophonii Reliquiae. Weidmann: Berlin. Zanker, G. 1987. Realism in Alexandrian Poetry: A Literature and its Audience. London: Croom Helm. Zotou, Alexia. 2014. Carmina anacreontea 1-34: ein Kommentar. Berlin and Boston: De Gruyter.