the Peloponnese) is
fashioning the Retinue of Dionysus
in Parian marble. The god in his divine
glory leads, with vigor in his stride.
Intemperance behind. Beside
Intemperance, Intoxication pours the Satyrs wine
from an amphora that they’ve garlanded with vines.
Near them delicate Sweetwine, his eyes
half-closed, mesmerizes.
And further down there come the singers,
Song and Melody, and Festival
who never allows the hallowed processional
torch that he holds to go out. Then, most modest, Ritual.—
That’s what Damon is making. Along with all
of that, from time to time he gets to pondering
the fee he’ll be receiving from the king
of Syracuse, three talents, quite a lot.
When that’s added to the money that he’s got,
he’ll be well-to-do, will lead a life of leisure,
can get involved in politics—what pleasure!—
he too in the Council, he too in the Agora.
[
1903
; 1907]
The Battle of Magnesia
He’s lost his former dash, his pluck.
His wearied body, very nearly sick,
will henceforth be his chief concern. The days
that he has left, he’ll spend without a care. Or so says
Philip, at least. Tonight he’ll play at dice.
He has an urge to enjoy himself. Do place
lots of roses on the table. And what if
Antiochus at Magnesia came to grief?
They say his glorious army lies mostly ruined.
Perhaps they’ve overstated: it can’t all be true.
Let’s hope not. For though they were the enemy, they were kin to us.
Still, one “let’s hope not” is enough. Perhaps too much.
Philip, of course, won’t postpone the celebration.
However much his life has become one great exhaustion
a boon remains: he hasn’t lost a single memory.
He remembers how they mourned in Syria, the agony
they felt, when Macedonia their motherland was smashed to bits.—
Let the feast begin. Slaves: the music, the lights!
[
1913
; 1916]
The Seleucid’s Displeasure
The Seleucid Demetrius was displeased
to learn that a Ptolemy had arrived
in Italy in such a sorry state.
With only three or four slaves;
dressed like a pauper, and on foot. This is why
their name would soon be bandied as a joke,
an object of fun in Rome. That they have, at bottom,
become the servants of the Romans, in a way,
the Seleucid knows; and that those people give
and take away their thrones
arbitrarily, however they like, he knows.
But nonetheless at least in their appearance
they should maintain a certain magnificence;
shouldn’t forget that they are still kings,
that they are still (alas!) called kings.
This is why Demetrius the Seleucid was annoyed,
and straightaway he offered Ptolemy
robes all of purple, a gleaming diadem,
exceedingly costly jewels, and numerous
servants and a retinue, his most expensive mounts,
that he should appear in Rome as was befitting,
like an Alexandrian Greek monarch.
But the Lagid, who had come a mendicant,
knew his business and refused it all;
he didn’t need these luxuries at all.
Dressed in worn old clothes, he humbly entered Rome,
and found lodgings with a minor craftsman.
And then he presented himself to the Senate
as an ill-fortuned and impoverished man,
that with greater success he might beg.
[
1910
; 1916]
Orophernes
He, who on the four-drachma piece
seems to have a smile on his face,
on his beautiful, refined face,
he is Orophernes, son of Ariarathes.
A child, they chased him out of Cappadocia,
from the great ancestral palace,
and sent him away to grow up
in Ionia, to be forgotten among foreigners.
Ah, the exquisite nights of Ionia
when fearlessly, and completely as a Greek,
he came to know pleasure utterly.
In his heart, an Asiatic still:
but in his manners and in his speech a Greek,
bedecked with turquoise, yet Greek-attired,
his body scented with perfume of jasmine;
and of Ionia’s beautiful young men
the most beautiful was he, the most ideal.
Later on, when the Syrians came
to Cappadocia, and had made him king,
he threw himself completely into his
fashioning the Retinue of Dionysus
in Parian marble. The god in his divine
glory leads, with vigor in his stride.
Intemperance behind. Beside
Intemperance, Intoxication pours the Satyrs wine
from an amphora that they’ve garlanded with vines.
Near them delicate Sweetwine, his eyes
half-closed, mesmerizes.
And further down there come the singers,
Song and Melody, and Festival
who never allows the hallowed processional
torch that he holds to go out. Then, most modest, Ritual.—
That’s what Damon is making. Along with all
of that, from time to time he gets to pondering
the fee he’ll be receiving from the king
of Syracuse, three talents, quite a lot.
When that’s added to the money that he’s got,
he’ll be well-to-do, will lead a life of leisure,
can get involved in politics—what pleasure!—
he too in the Council, he too in the Agora.
[
1903
; 1907]
The Battle of Magnesia
He’s lost his former dash, his pluck.
His wearied body, very nearly sick,
will henceforth be his chief concern. The days
that he has left, he’ll spend without a care. Or so says
Philip, at least. Tonight he’ll play at dice.
He has an urge to enjoy himself. Do place
lots of roses on the table. And what if
Antiochus at Magnesia came to grief?
They say his glorious army lies mostly ruined.
Perhaps they’ve overstated: it can’t all be true.
Let’s hope not. For though they were the enemy, they were kin to us.
Still, one “let’s hope not” is enough. Perhaps too much.
Philip, of course, won’t postpone the celebration.
However much his life has become one great exhaustion
a boon remains: he hasn’t lost a single memory.
He remembers how they mourned in Syria, the agony
they felt, when Macedonia their motherland was smashed to bits.—
Let the feast begin. Slaves: the music, the lights!
[
1913
; 1916]
The Seleucid’s Displeasure
The Seleucid Demetrius was displeased
to learn that a Ptolemy had arrived
in Italy in such a sorry state.
With only three or four slaves;
dressed like a pauper, and on foot. This is why
their name would soon be bandied as a joke,
an object of fun in Rome. That they have, at bottom,
become the servants of the Romans, in a way,
the Seleucid knows; and that those people give
and take away their thrones
arbitrarily, however they like, he knows.
But nonetheless at least in their appearance
they should maintain a certain magnificence;
shouldn’t forget that they are still kings,
that they are still (alas!) called kings.
This is why Demetrius the Seleucid was annoyed,
and straightaway he offered Ptolemy
robes all of purple, a gleaming diadem,
exceedingly costly jewels, and numerous
servants and a retinue, his most expensive mounts,
that he should appear in Rome as was befitting,
like an Alexandrian Greek monarch.
But the Lagid, who had come a mendicant,
knew his business and refused it all;
he didn’t need these luxuries at all.
Dressed in worn old clothes, he humbly entered Rome,
and found lodgings with a minor craftsman.
And then he presented himself to the Senate
as an ill-fortuned and impoverished man,
that with greater success he might beg.
[
1910
; 1916]
Orophernes
He, who on the four-drachma piece
seems to have a smile on his face,
on his beautiful, refined face,
he is Orophernes, son of Ariarathes.
A child, they chased him out of Cappadocia,
from the great ancestral palace,
and sent him away to grow up
in Ionia, to be forgotten among foreigners.
Ah, the exquisite nights of Ionia
when fearlessly, and completely as a Greek,
he came to know pleasure utterly.
In his heart, an Asiatic still:
but in his manners and in his speech a Greek,
bedecked with turquoise, yet Greek-attired,
his body scented with perfume of jasmine;
and of Ionia’s beautiful young men
the most beautiful was he, the most ideal.
Later on, when the Syrians came
to Cappadocia, and had made him king,
he threw himself completely into his
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