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“Nor did the son of Mene, Musaeus, master of the Graces, cause Antiope to go without her meed of honour. And she, beside Eleusis’s strand, expounded to the initiates the loud, sacred voice of mystic oracles, as she duly escorted the priest through the Rarian plain to honour Demeter. And she is known even in Hades.
“I say, too, that Boeotian Hesiod, master of all lore, left his hall and went to the Heliconian village of the Ascraeans, because he was in love; whence, in wooing Eoee, maid of Ascra, he suffered many pangs; and as he sang, he writ all the scrolls of his Catalogues , ever proceeding from a girl’s name first.
“But that bard himself, whom the decree of Zeus for ever ordains to be the sweetest divinity among all poets, godlike Homer, languished to thinness, and set Ithaca in the strains of song for love of wise Penelope; for her sake he went, with many sufferings, to that small isle, far from his own wide country; and he celebrated the kin of Icarius, the folk of Amyelas, and Sparta too, ever mindful of his own misfortunes.
“And Mimnermus, who discovered, after much suffering, the sweet sound and spirit breathed from the languorous pentameter, burned for Nanno; yet oft upon his venerable flute, bound to his lips, he with Hexamyles would hold revel. But he quarrelled with Hermobius, the ever cruel, and Pherecles, too, his foe, whom he loathed for the taunts which he hurled against him.
“Antimachus, too, smitten with love for the Lydian girl Lyde, trod the ground where the Pactolus river flows; and when she died, in his helplessness he placed her in the hard earth, weeping the while, and in his woe he left her there and returned to lofty Colophon; then he filled his pious scrolls with plaints, and rested after all his pain.
“As for the Lesbian Alcaeus, thou knowest in how many revels he engaged, when he smote his lyre with yearning love for Sappho. And the bard who loved that nightingale caused sorrow, by the eloquence of his hymns, to the Teian poet. Yea, for the honey-voiced Anacreon contended for her, whose beauty was supreme among the many women of Lesbos. And at times he would leave Samos, at times again his own city, that nestles against the vine-covered hill, and visit Lesbos, rich in wine; and oft he gazed upon Lectum, the Mysian headland across the Aeolian wave.
“How, too, the Attic bee left Colone of the many hillocks, and sang with choruses marshalled in tragedy — sang of Bacchus and of his passion for Theoris and for Erigone, whom Zeus once gave to Sophocles in his old age.
“I say, too, that that man who had ever guarded himself against passion, and had won the hatred of all men by his railings concerning all women, was none the less smitten by the treacherous bow, and could not lay aside his pangs by night; nay, in Macedonia he traversed all the by-ways in his woe, and became dependant on the steward of Archelaus; until at last Fate found destruction for Euripides, when he met the cruel hounds from Arribius.
“And that poet from Cythera, whom the nurses of Bacchus reared, and the Muses taught to be the most faithful steward of the flute, Philoxenus, — thou knowest how he was racked with pain, and passed through our city to Ortygia; for thou hast heard of his mighty yearning, which Galateia esteemed less than the very firstlings of the flock.
“Thou knowest also of that bard in whose honour the townsmen of Eurypylus, the men of Cos, raised a bronze statue beneath the plane-tree; he, Philitas, sang his love for the nimble Bittis, versed as he was in all the terms of love and in all its speech.
“Yea, not even all the mortals who ordained for themselves a life austere, seeking to find the dark things of wisdom, whom their very craft caused to choke in the shrewd contests of debate, and their dread skill, which bestowed its care upon eloquence, — not even they could turn aside the awful, maddened turmoil of Love, but they fell beneath the power of that dread charioteer.
“Such was the madness for Theano that bound with its spell the Samian Pythagoras; yet he had discovered the refinements of geometric spirals, and had modelled in a small globe the mighty circuit of the enveloping aether.
“And with what fiery power did Cypris, in her wrath, heat Socrates, whom Apollo had declared to be supreme among all men in wisdom! Yea, though his soul was deep, yet he laboured with lighter pains when he visited the house of Aspasia; nor could he find any remedy, though he had discovered the many cross-paths of logic.
“Even the man of Cyrene, keen Aristippus, was drawn by overpowering love beyond the Isthmus, when he fell in love with Lais of Apidane; in his flight he renounced all discourse, and expounded a life of worthlessness.”
In these lines Hermesianax makes the mistake of supposing that Sappho and Anacreon belonged to the same period, for he flourished in the time of Cyrus and Polycrates, whereas she belonged to the time of Alyattes, the father of Croesus. Yet Chamaeleon, in his book On Sappho , asserts that some say it was to her that the following verses were addressed by Anacreon: “Now golden-haired Eros tosses at me his purple ball, and challenges me to sport with the maiden of the broidered sandal. But she — for she is from fair Lesbos — finds fault with my hair, for it is white, and is all agape for another — a woman!” And Chamaeleon further says that Sappho spoke to Anacreon these lines: “The hymn which thou didst utter, O Muse of the golden throne, is that which the Teian, glorious old man from the goodly land of fair women, sang to our delight.” But that this song is not by Sappho is plain, I imagine, to any one. In fact I think that Hermesianax was joking as regards the love affair. For the comic poet Diphilus, in his play, Sappho , has even made Archilochus and Hipponax lovers of Sappho!

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