Anyte of Tegea

Recently a FaceBook friend posted a Sappho poem.  It started me wondering about how many other Classical female poets had left fragments of work, and today I discovered Anyte of Tegea.

To be honest, she seems to be so well-known and famous that I'm more than a bit ashamed not to have come across her before.

The following are my attempts at a few translations, followed by a bit more info on her, followed by the Greek texts.


"A lament for Antibia, a maiden:
Many bridegrooms
(in their own imagination, at least)
flocked to her father's house.
Word of her beauty brought them,
and her wisdom's growing fame.

But Fate, the destroyer,
swept all such hopes away."


Apparently Anyte was the first to also write epitaphs for animals.


To a dog

"You too met your doom, like those great ones of old,
in this many-rooted thicket.
Oh, Locri,
Noise-loving barker,
Speediest of pups,
into your lightly-leaping paw he stabbed his sharp poison,
that speckle-banded snake."


Three Girls  (victims of war?)

"We lived, O Miletus, beloved homeland,
spurning the lawless violence of the wild Galatians.
Three girls, fellow-citizens, brought to this fate
by the violent war-god of the Celts.

For we did not await their bloody, impious embraces,
but chose Death as a more kindly bridegroom."



From Encyclopedia Britannica:
Anyte,  (flourished 3rd century bc, Tegea, Arcadia), Greek poet of the Peloponnesus who was so highly esteemed in antiquity that in the well-known Stephanos (“Garland”), a collection compiled by Meleager (early 1st century), the “lilies of Anyte” are the first poems to be entwined in the “wreath of poets.” Anyte’s fame persisted, and Antipater of Thessalonica, writing during the reign of Augustus (27 bc–ad 14), called her “a woman Homer” and placed her in a list of nine lyric poetesses. Of 24 extant epigrams assigned to her, 20 are believed to be genuine. In her dedicatory epigrams her verse is akin to that of Theocritus and Leonidas, her contemporaries. Her dedications for fountains and to the nymphs of the springs show the Greek feeling for a quiet landscape that is so often illustrated in the Greek Anthology. She wrote epitaphs, perhaps literary rather than for actual use, on various animals. She gives no suggestion of herself in her poems and never employs the theme of love. Her love of nature and interest in animals mark her as typical of the early years of the Hellenistic period.


Texts:

Antibia:
    παρθένον Ἀντιβίαν κατοδύρομαι, ἇς ἐπὶ πολλοὶ
          νυμφίοι ἱέμενοι πατρὸς ἵκοντο δόμον,
    κάλλευς καὶ πινυτᾶτος ἀνὰ κλέος· ἀλλ᾽ ἐπὶ πάντων
          ἐλπίδας οὐλομένα Μοῖρ᾽ ἐκύλισε πρόσω.

    (Anthologia Graeca, VII, 490)

Locri:
    ὤλεο δή ποτε καὶ σὺ πολύρριζον παρὰ θάμνον,
          Λόκρι, φιλοφθόγγων ὠκυτάτη σκυλάκων·
    τοῖον ἐλαφρίζοντι τεῶι ἐγκάτθετο κώλωι
          ἰὸν ἀμείλικτον ποικιλόδειρος ἔχις.

    (Pollux, V, 48)


Three Girls:
    οἰχόμεθ᾽, ὦ Μίλητε, φίλη πατρί, τῶν ἀθεμίστων
          τὰν ἄνομον Γαλατᾶν ὕβριν ἀναινόμεναι,
    παρθενικαὶ τρισσαὶ πολιήτιδες, ἃς ὁ βιατὰς
          Κελτῶν εἰς ταύτην μοῖραν ἔτρεψεν Ἄρης.

    οὐ γὰρ ἐμείναμεν αἷμα τὸ δυσσεβὲς οὐδ᾽ Ὑμέναιον,
          νυμφίον ἀλλ᾽ Ἀίδην κηδεμόν᾽ εὑρόμεθα.

    (Anthologia Graeca, VII, 492)

A Persian Slave:
Μάνης οὗτος ἀνὴρ ἦν ζῶν ποτε· νῦν δὲ τεθνηκὼς
      ἶσον Δαρείωι τῶι μεγάλωι δύναται.

(Anthologia Graeca, VII, 538)

BANNED IN SPARTA!!

For an ancient Greek soldier, losing your shield was the height of disgrace (because it generally meant that you'd flung that huge, heavy thing away as you deserted and ran to save your miserable cowardly life).

Hence the Spartan mother's comment to her departing son:
“Come home victorious, My Son, proudly bearing your battle-scarred shield; or come home carried on it as your funeral bier, having attained a beautiful death and fallen gloriously in combat against the foe!”

At least, that's what she meant. But they were people of few words, the Spartans, so what she actually said was:   “With it, or on it!”

The poet Archilochus (648 BC) seems to have been a disreputable sort of character. A later writer claimed that the Spartans actually banned his poetry in case it corrupted their children, “lest it harm their morals more than it benefited their talents”).

Perhaps the following are a couple of the poems that got him banned.

Here's the first.  Very literally it would translate as something like:

Some Thracian is pleased with my shield, which I left undamaged beside a bush.
But I escaped death. Good riddance to the shield. I'll get another, no worse.

In other words, he dropped it and ran away.  Oh, the shame!
I've never tried translating Greek verse, but I thought this might be a fun place to start. Here we go...

Some Thracian got my brand new shield.
I dumped it as I fled.
Oh well. I'll buy another one.
It's gone – but I'm not dead!

Or maybe...

Some Thracian's got the shield I bore.
I dropped it when I ran away.
It's just a shield. There's plenty more.
I lived to fight another day.

He wrote an equally scandalous verse about his spear (which, of course, should be used for killing enemies):

Literally: My bread is kneaded with my spear, my Ismarian wine is mixed with my spear, and I drink reclining upon my spear.

My effort:

I use my spear to knead my bread,
I use my spear to stir my wine,
I lean on it when I get drunk,
and these jobs suit my spear just fine!

You can kinda see why the Spartans wouldn't like him.

Artemesia I of Caria

I'm looking forward to the 300: Rise of an Empire movie (the sequel to 300, which was about the Spartans fighting the Persians at Thermopyle).  I'm sure it will be as daft and over-the-top as the original film, but that's all part of the fun. 

One of the characters will be Artemisia, surely one of the most interesting women in ancient history. Everyone's heard of Cleopatra, but very few have heard of Artemesia, which seems a bit unfair. She was among the Persian King Xerxes forces in 480BC.  This is my attempt at a translation (fairly free and slightly abridged) of what the historian Herodotus wrote about her:


(From Book 7)
I won't mention any of the other captains except for Artemisia, because it fills me with wonder that a woman played a part in the war against Greece. She didn't need to take part in the  war, but she did so anyway, just out of sheer valour. She provided 5 ships, which were regarded as the best in the fleet (except for those from Sidon).


(From Book 8)
BEFORE THE BATTLE
Then King Xerxes himself came down to the fleet. He wanted to meet the captains and hear their opinions. He arrived and sat down, then everyone took their places according to the rank the king had given them, first Sidon, then Tyre, and so on.
Xerxes sent Mardonius to ask each of them whether he should fight a sea battle. They all offered him the same advice, encouraging him to do so. But then Artemesia spoke as follows:

"Tell the king from me, Mardonius, that I, the one who offers this advice, was neither the worst fighter nor the least courageous in the sea battles around Euboea: Tell him: Master, it's right for me to give my opinion, for I have your best interests at heart. And here it is:

Spare your ships. Don't even consider fighting at sea. At sea, the Greeks will make your men look like girls.(1)
Why would you even take this risk? Haven't you already captured Athens, which is what you wanted? Don't you practically control the rest of Greece? You've beaten them. No one stands in your way!

Let me tell you what will happen. If you simply wait here, or advance by land, you'll win. The Greek resistance will crumble, and they'll scatter, each to his own city.
But if you rush into a naval battle, I'm afraid your fleet will get the worst of it – and then your army will suffer too.

Reflect on this, my King: Good people tend to have bad slaves,and bad people, good slaves. You are the best of all men, so you have terrible slaves:  These so-called allies of yours – These Egyptians, Cypriots, Cicilians, and Pamphilians - They're no use!"


So said Artemesia, and all her friends trembled for her(thinking the King might punish her for giving such bad advice),while all her jealous enemies were delighted to see her bringing about her own downfall.
But when all the opinions were given to Xerxes, he was especially pleased by Artemisia's words. He already had a high opinion of her, but now he held her in even higher esteem.

Nevertheless, he ignored her advice. The allies had fought badly at Euboea, but he thought that was because he'd been absent – this time they'd know that he had his eye on them.

THE BATTLE.
I can't say how any of the captains, foreigner or Greek, performed in the actual battle, but this is what happened in the case of Artemesia (raising her even higher in the King's estimation).

The King's fleet was in dire confusion, and Artemisia's ship was being pursued by an Athenian warship. There was no way she could escape: She had been closest to the enemy forces, and now her escape route was completely blocked by friendly ships.

She made a quick decision, and it worked out well for her. Still pursued by the Athenian, she aimed straight at a friendly ship, and rammed it (It was manned by the Calyndians, and even their King, Dramasithymos, was on board). Perhaps she had a previous quarrel with him, or perhaps he just happened to be there. I can't say. Anyway, she rammed the ship and sank it.

When the Athenian captain saw her attacking one of Xerxes' ships, he thought he'd made a mistake, and that she must be a friend after all – a fellow Greek, or someone who had deserted from Xerxes and was now fighting for the Greeks. He changed course, and went to pick a fight elsewhere.

So not only did Artemisia escape harm, but at the very moment she actually weakened Xerxes' forces, she also won his favour! You see, the King (so it's said) was watching the battle and saw her sink the ship. At that point, a bystander called out, “Oh! Did you see that, Master? Artemesia! What a fighter! She's sunk one of our enemies!”

When the king asked whether it was really Artemisia who had done so, they confirmed it was (her ship's standard was clearly visible).  Luckily for Artemesia, no one from the Calyndian ship survived to bring a charge against her.

Xerxes is said to have replied, "My men have become women and my women, men."

These, they say, were his very words.

---------


She's mentioned once more in Herodotus, where she gives Xerxes advice again.  This time he takes it!

She advised Xerxes to go home and leave Mardonius behind to run things. Her argument was that if things went well, Xerxes could take the credit, and if they didn't, Mardonius could take the blame.

Then she went off to Ephesus, giving me yet ANOTHER reason why I dearly long to visit it some day...

A while after translating this, it suddenly occurred to me that if Xerxes had taken her advice the first time, we would all be living in a VERY different world.  Artemesia could have changed the course of world history.


(1) "The Greeks will make your men look like girls" - I couldn't resist translating it like this, but literally it is "Their men are as superior to yours as men are to women"