Erinna, Corinna & Co.

These are my modern English translations of poems by the ancient Greek female poets Erinna, Corinna/Korinna, Anyte of Tegea, Callo, Moero and Nossis.

A marble statue of the ancient Greek poet Erinna.

Erinna

Erinna is widely regarded, at least by those who have read her, as second only to Sappho among the ancient Greek female poets. Little is known about her life; Erinna has been called a contemporary of Sappho and her most gifted student, but she may have lived up to a few hundred years later.

The first poem, about a portrait of a girl or young woman named Agatharkhis, has been called the earliest Greek ekphrastic epigram (an epigram describing a work of art):

This portrait is the work of sensitive, artistic hands.
See, noble Prometheus, you have human equals!
For if whoever painted this girl had only added a voice,
she would have been Agatharkhis entirely.
—Erinna, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A primary theme for Erinna seems to have been the premature deaths of girls and young women, and particularly the death of her friend Baucis or Baukis.

Here only a voice’s useless echo reaches Hades
where there is not an ear among the unseeing dead.
—Erinna, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Passing by, passing by my oft-bewailed pillar,
shudder, my new friend, to hear my tragic story:
of how my pyre was lit by the same fiery torch
meant to lead the procession to my nuptials in glory!
O Hymenaeus, why did you did change
my bridal song to a dirge? Strange!
—Erinna, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You, my tall Columns, and you, my small Urn,
receptacle of Hades’ tiny pittance of ash—
remember me to those who pass by
my grave, as they dash.
Tell them my story, sad as it is:
that this grave sealed a young bride’s womb;
that my name was Baucis and Telos my land;
and that Erinna, my friend, etched this poem on my Tomb.
—Erinna, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Stele, inscription and lamentable urn
containing my meager remains, now property of Hades,
tell passersby my story, sad as it is:
how this mausoleum sealed a young bride’s womb;
that my name was Baucis,
                                          Telos my land;
and that my friend Erinna etched this epigram on my Tomb.
—Erinna, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Erinna engraved this epigram on my tombstone.
—Erinna, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Erinna has been attributed to different locations, including Lesbos, Rhodes, Teos, Telos and Tenos. Telos seems the most likely because of her Dorian dialect. Erinna wrote in a mixture of Aeolic and Doric Greek. In 1928, Italian archaeologists excavating at Oxyrhynchus discovered a tattered piece of papyrus which contained 54 lines Erinna’s lost epic, the poem “Distaff.” This work, like the epigram above, was also about her friend Baucis.

Excerpts from “Distaff”
by Erinna
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

… the moon rising …
… leaves falling …
… waves lapping a windswept shore …

… and our childish games, Baucis, do you remember? …

… Leaping from white horses into the deeper waves,
running on reckless feet through the great courtyard.
“You’re it!’ I cried, ‘You’re the Tortoise now!”
But when your turn came to pursue your pursuers,
you darted beyond the courtyard,
dashed out deep into the waves,
splashing far beyond us …

… My poor Baucis, these tears I now weep are your warm memorial,
these traces of embers still smoldering in my heart
for our silly amusements, now that you lie ash …

… Do you remember how, as girls,
we played at weddings with our dolls,
pretending to be brides in our innocent beds? …

… How sometimes I was your mother,
allotting wool to the weaver-women,
calling for you to unreel the thread? …

… Do you remember our terror of the monster Mormo
with her huge ears, her forever-flapping tongue,
her four slithering feet, her shape-shifting face? …

… Until you mother called for us to help with the salted meat …

… But when you mounted your husband’s bed,
dearest Baucis, you forgot your mothers’ warnings!
Aphrodite made your heart forgetful …

… Desire becomes oblivion …

… Now I lament your loss, my dearest friend.
I can’t bear to think of that dark crypt.
I can’t bring myself to leave the house.
I refuse to profane your corpse with my tearless eyes.
I refuse to cut my hair, but how can I mourn with my hair unbound?
I blush with shame at the thought of you! …

… But in this dark house, O my dearest Baucis,
My deep grief is ripping me apart.
Wretched Erinna! Only nineteen,
I moan like an ancient crone, eying this strange distaff …

O Hymen! … O Hymenaeus! …
Alas, my poor Baucis!

On a Betrothed Girl
by Erinna
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I sing of Baucis the bride.
Observing her tear-stained crypt
tell Death who dwells underground:
"Thou art envious, O Death!"

Her monument reminds passersby
of the bitter misfortune of Baucis —
how her father-in-law burned the poor girl on a pyre
lit by bright torches meant to light her marriage train home.
While thou, O Hymenaeus, transformed her harmonious bridal song into the mournful wail of the threnos.

Hymen! O Hymenaeus!

threnos: threnody, a wailing ode, song, hymn or poem of mourning composed and/or performed as a memorial to a dead person.



Anyte of Tegea

Anyte of Tegea (fl. 300 BC) was a Hellenistic poet from Tegea in Arcadia. Little is known of her life, but 24 epigrams attributed to her appeared in the Greek Anthology, with 19 generally considered authentic. Anyte was one of nine outstanding ancient female poets listed by Antipater of Thessalonica in the Palatine Anthology. Anyte has been credited with inventing the pastoral epigram and her invention may have influenced Theocritus and was adapted by later poets, including Ovid.

Stranger, rest your weary legs beneath the elms;
hear how coolly the breeze murmurs through their branches;
then take a bracing draught from the mountain-fed fountain;
for this is welcome shade from the burning sun.
—Anyte, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Here I stand, Hermes, in the crossroads
by the windswept elms near the breezy beach,
providing rest to sunburned travelers,
and cold and brisk is my fountain’s abundance.
—Anyte, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Sit here, quietly shaded by the luxuriant foliage,
and drink cool water from the sprightly spring,
so that your weary breast, panting with summer’s labors,
may take rest from the blazing sun.
—Anyte, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This is the grove of Cypris,
for it is fair for her to look out over the land to the bright deep,
that she may make the sailors’ voyages happy,
as the sea trembles, observing her brilliant image.
—Anyte, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

For her grasshopper, the night-fiddler,
and her tiny oak-dwelling cicada,
little Myro built a funeral mound
then shed a maidenly tear,
for unpersuadable Hades had made off with her playmates!
—Anyte, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Often lamenting at the tomb of her daughter,
Cleina, the mother, cried out for her dear dead child,
departed too soon.
Entreating the soul of understanding Philaenis,
who had crossed the pale Acheron unmarried.
—Anyte, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

According to Nicole Loraux, no public comment on a woman’s death was considered acceptable in classical Athens. The standard of public silence for an unmarried woman who died would have been even more severe.

I mourn the maiden Antiba, for whom many men
came courting to her father’s house,
attracted by her beauty and wisdom,
but alas annihilating Fate hurled her beyond their reach.
—Anyte, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Forgoing a bedchamber and marriage’s warm rites,
your mother placed upon this cold albescent tomb
a maiden statue, having your form and likeness,
so that you, Thersis, can yet be remembered and saluted.
—Anyte, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You perished beside a deeply-rooted bush,
Locris, swiftest of the ebullient noisesome puppies,
as a speckle-necked snake injected its cruel poison
into your nimble limb.
—Anyte, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The young men buried you, their captain, Pheidias.
Dying, you doomed them to dark grief,
                                  like children for their mother.
And yet your headstone sings this beautiful song …
That you died fighting for your beloved country.
—Anyte, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Here “noisesome” is a bit of a coinage as I mean both noisy and bothersome, although I’m sure Anyte would have been glad to get that bit of frisky trouble back.



Nossis

Nossis (fl. 300 BC) was a Hellenistic poet from Epizephyrian Locris in Magna Graecia. Probably well-educated and from a noble family, she had twelve epigrams in the Greek Anthology, with one possibly written by another poet in imitation of her style, which would have made her a poet of note at that time.

There is nothing sweeter than love.
All other delights are secondary.
Thus, I spit out even honey.
This is what Gnossis says:
Whomever Aphrodite does not love,
Is bereft of her roses.
—Nossis, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Most reverend Hera, the oft-descending from heaven,
attend your Lacinian shrine fragrant with incense
and there receive the linen mantle your noble child Nossis,
daughter of Theophilis and Cleocha, has woven for you.
—Nossis, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Apparently Theophilis was Nossis's mother and Cleocha her grandmother.

Stranger, if you sail to Mitylene, her homeland of beautiful dances,
to indulge in the most exquisite graces of Sappho,
remember I also was loved by the Muses, who bore me and reared me in Locris.
My name, never forget it!, is Nossis. Now go!
—Nossis, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Pass me by with ringing laughter, then award me
an appreciative word: I am Rhinthon, scion of Syracuse,
the Muses’s smallest nightingale; yet with my tragic burlesques
I was able to pluck an ivy, uniquely my own.
—Nossis, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Rhinthon was a parodist in an age when the laurels went to dramatists like Aeschylus, Euripides and Sophocles.

Let’s visit Aphrodite’s shrine to see her statue,
finely wrought and embellished with gold,
which Polyarchis the courtesan dedicated to her,
having made a fortune from her body’s splendor!
—Nossis, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Aphrodite will receive this gift, joyfully, I think,
it being Samthya’s own headdress,
for it’s elaborate and fragrantly perfumed.
With it she also anoints the beautiful Adonis.
—Nossis, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Sabaethis’s image is known from afar
due to its stature and beauty.
Even here we recognize her prudence, her kindness.
Godspeed, blessed lady!
—Nossis, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This tablet portrays Thaumareta, aptly conveying
the ripeness and pride of the tender-eyed girl.
Even your watchdog would wag its tail,
thinking her its mansion’s mistress!
—Nossis, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Melinna is finely wrought. Her tender face!
See how she seems to gaze at us benignly!
How splendidly the daughter resembles her mother!
Isn’t it nice when children duplicate their parents?
—Nossis, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The Bruttians flung these shields aside
as they fled from the fleet-footed Locrians.
Now hung from temple ceilings, the shields
praise the Locrians’ valor. Nor do they desire
the arms of the cowards they deserted.
—Nossis, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Callo

In the next poem Callo, a female poet, dedicates her picture to Aphrodite:

Callo placed this tablet in blonde Aphrodite’s temple,
a portrait she painted, faithful in every regard.
See how tenderly she stands! See how her charm blossoms!
May she flourish, for her conduct is blameless.
—Callo, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Corinna

Corinna or Korinna was an ancient Greek poet who lived in Tanagra, Boeotia, where she wrote in the Boeotian dialect of Greek and achieved wide fame sometime between the fifth and third centuries BC. Her work survives only in fragments and in several shorter pieces quoted by ancient grammarians. She wrote primarily about Boeotian mythology. According to one source, she defeated Pindar in five poetry competitions!

I come to sing of heroes' and heroines' courageous deeds.—Corinna, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Mount Helicon, father of fair offspring, friend of the wayfarer, beloved of the Muses!—Corinna, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Terpsichora calls me to sing beautifully of heroes
for Tanagra's white-clad daughters and my city rejoices,
hearing my clear, evocative voice.
—Corinna, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Terpsichora was the Muse associated with the choral dance.

I indeed censure even sweet-voiced Myrtis,
for, having been born a woman,
she chose to compete against Pindar!
—Corinna, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

THE SINGING CONTEST OF HELICON AND CITHAERON
by Corinna
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The text in brackets was missing and has been filled in imaginatively.

[The chorus gathered] well-garlanded atop Olympus [as the musicians tuned their] lyre-strings [to the] mountains’ [great height and] rarefied air, while tribes of asses [brayed and jockeyed for position,] as always [a discordant] family. Then Cithaeron sang of how the Curetes had sheltered the goddess’s sacred offspring in a cave without the knowledge of crooked-minded Cronus, since blessed Rhea had stolen him away, winning great honor from the Immortals. Such was Cithaeron’s song that, when it was done, the Muses immediately instructed the Blessed Ones to cast their secret ballot-stones into gleaming gold urns. Then they all rose together, declaring Cithaeron the winner, whereupon Hermes heartily proclaimed Cithaeron victorious with a loud cry, and the Blessed Ones, rejoicing, decorated him with garlands as he danced with joy. But Helicon hurled down ten thousand boulders in disgust!

According to Greek mythology, the Curetes (aka Korybantes, Corybantes, Corybants and Kurbantes) were armed and crested dancers who worshipped the Phrygian goddess Cybele with drumming and dancing. The holy babe stolen by Rhea was Zeus.


Moero

Moero or Myro (fl. 300 BC) was a Byzantine poet who was highly regarded in antiquity. Meleager mentioned her with Sappho and Anyte in the opening catalogue of his Garland, while Antipater of Thessalonica ranked her among the top nine ancient female poets.

You lie here, grapes, beneath Aphrodite’s golden portico,
full to the brim with Dionysus’s nectar,
but your mother-vine can no longer lovingly wrap her branches around you,
nor protect you beneath her tender leaves.
—Moero, Greek Anthology 6.119, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Hamadryad Nymphs, river-daughters, ambrosial beings
treading the depths with rose-petaled feet,
hail!, and may you always remember and safeguard Kleonymos,
who placed these lovely votive images beneath the pines for you, O goddesses!
—Moero, Greek Anthology 6.189, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Mnemosyne
by Moero
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Zeus was nursed to manhood on Crete where none of the Blessed Ones knew him, yet he continued to grow in strength and vigor. Secure inside a sacred cave, he was nurtured by timid doves bearing ambrosia from the Ocean streams. Meanwhile a great eagle drawing nectar from a rock brought it continually in its beak for prudent Zeus to drink. Thus after he had conquered his father Cronus, victorious Zeus made the eagle immortal, bequeathing him heaven. He likewise bestowed honour on the timid doves, making them heralds of summer and winter.

Moero seems to be alluding to an observation by Circe in the Odyssey:

No winged creatures passed through the way of the Clashing Rocks, not even timid doves bearing ambrosia to father Zeus! —Homer, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Translation Pages in Roughly Chronological Order:

Enheduanna (circa 2285 BC) the first poet we know by name
The Love Song of Shu-Sin: The Earth's Oldest Love Poem?
Sappho of Lesbos (circa 600 BC) Longer Poems
Sappho of Lesbos Shorter Poems and Fragments
Sulpicia Translations (circa 100 AD)
Ono no Komachi (circa 850 AD)