SELECTIONS OF GREEK LYRIC POETRY
trans. Malcolm Wilson

Archilochus (c. 650)

4W. Come, get hustling with that flask
Down the thwarts of our swift ship,
And pour out the drink from the hollow cask. 
Draw down the red wine from the dregs: for we can
Not remain sober on this watch.

5W.  Some Thracian now glories in my shield, weaponry beyond reproach,
which I left by a bush quite unwillingly. 
But I saved myself.  What do I care for that shield? 
To hell with it: I'll get another one, better one later.

114W.  I hate the pompous general, and the one who struts,
and the one exulting in his curls, and all shaved-up. 
Let me have the shorty, legs rickety in his greaves,
But standing steadfast on his feet and full of heart.

Semonides (c. 650)

29.  The Chian man [i.e. Homer] said one thing very well:
"As are the generations of leaves, so are the generations of men"
But few men hear it or store it in their hearts
For everyone has hope, inborn in the hearts of the young.
And as long as a man has the lovely bloom of youth
With a light heart, he plans many things to no effect.
For he does not expect to grow old or die
Nor, while he has health, does he give thought to illness.
Fool, he who thinks this way: he does not know
How short is the time of youth and life
For mortals. But you, learn these things and endure
And give freely to your soul of what is good.

Tyrtaeus (c. 650)

A fine thing it is to fall and to die in the foreranks of battle
For a noble man fighting for his fatherland
And the most wretched of all is to leave one's own city
And fertile fields a begger
And wander with dear mother and aging father
With little children and wedded wife.
For he will be hateful to whomever he meets,
Yielding as he must to poverty and loathesome indigence
And shame will be upon his lineage and disgrace his splendid looks.
Every dishonor and evil will attend them.
So if, my friend, there is no concern for a man without a home
No respect, no countenance, no pity,
Let us fight with spirit for our land and for our children
Let us die and never spare our lives.
Young men, stand steadfast by one another and fight
And don't be the first to the shameful rout or panic,
But get you hearts big and stout in your breasts
And do not love your life when you fight with men.
As for your seniors, whose knee are no longer nimble,
Do not flee and abandon them, these old men.
For it is truly shameful when an old man falls and
Dies in the front ranks in front of younger men.
He has white hair and a grizzled beard and
Gasps out stout courage in the dust
Clutching his bloody genitals in his hands.
Shameful and hateful is it to cast one's eyes upon these things
And his naked skin.  But for the young everything is seemly,
When he has the splendid bloom of lovely youth,
Wonderous to look at for men, and a passion for women
When he's alive, and beautiful falling in the front ranks.
Now let each man take his stand, and stay rooted to the ground
With both feet and bite his lips with his teeth.

Sappho (c. 650-600)

Immortal Aphrodite of the painted throne,
Deceit-weaving daughter of Zeus, I beg you,
Don't conquer my heart with distress and pain,
Mistress.

But come here, if at any other time
You have heard my prayers from far away
And you came leaving the golden house of
Your father

And harnessed your chariot.
And beautiful sparrows carried you swiftly over
The dark earth.  They beat their wings through the
Midst of the heavenly ether,

And they came quickly.  And you, blessed goddess,
A smile on your immortal face, asked me
What it was this time I was suffering,
And why I had called again,

And what was my mad heart's fondest
Desire.  "Whom am I to persuade back
Into love with you?  Who is doing
You wrong, Sappho?

If she tries to flee, soon she'll be pursuing.
If she won't take your gifts, she'll be offering.
If she doesn't love, soon she will be,
Even if she doesn't want to."

Come to me now and release me
From these bitter cares.   And whatever
My heart wants to come to pass, bring that to pass.
For you are my ally.

Sappho continued

105a. .....Like the sweet apple which ripens on the highest branch
Right up on the very highest branch, and the apple-pickers missed it.
-- No, didn't miss it: couldn't get it.

 31.  That man seems to me to be the gods' equal
Who sits beside you
And listens to your sweet voice
In his ear,

And sees your lovely smile.  But that's just what sets
The heart in my chest aflutter.
For when I look at you for a moment, my voice
Utterly fails me.

My tongue freezes to silence, and a subtle
Flame runs beneath my flesh and
My eyes see nothing
And my ears start ringing

A sweat pours down my body, and
The shakes takes me all through, and I am
Paler than grass, and I think I am
Just a little from death.

Alcaeus (c. 600)

333.  Wine is the mirror of the man.

338.   Zeus is raining from heaven; there's a terrific storm;
The water is freezing in the streams....
I hate winter; stoke up the fire,
Mix up the sweet wine unstintingly
And around my head place a soft pillow.

Xenophanes (c.570-490)

Now, indeed, the floor is clean and all our hands
And drinking-cups too.  One person crowns the guests with
Woven garlands, another places sweet myrrh in the dish.
A mixing bowl stands filled with good cheer.
Other wine is ready and say it won't run out;
It smells sweet of flowers in the jars.
In the middle the frankincense emits a divine aroma
And the water is cold and sweet and pure
Golden loaves lie by, and the table of honor is
Groaning with cheese and rich honey.
The altar is packed and heaped up with flowers
And a song of festivity takes hold round the house.
Sensible men must first sing to the god
With reverent stories and upright tales.
Then after pouring libations and praying one may enjoy
Oneself as far as justice allows -- for this is better.
There is nothing wrong with drinking, as long as you can
Get home without a servant (if you're not an old man, that is)
And we should praise the man, who in his cups can show us
Noble things, as his memory and his excellence drive him.
But let no one tell the stories of the battles of the Titans or the
Giants or the Centaurs, those fictions of our ancestors,
Nor violent factions -- there is nothing good in these --
But it is always good to keep respect for the gods.