Poem · 596 BC · Mytilene

Fragments of Books Three and Four

Μελῶν γ΄ καὶ δ΄ ἀποσπάσματα

Headnote

The third and fourth books of the Alexandrian Sappho survive at two extremes of fortune. Book Three, built on the long line called the greater asclepiad, is down to a handful of quotations — but the grammarians and moralists who did the quoting had a good eye, and among the five printed here are two of her most quoted sentences: the curse on the woman with no share in the roses of Pieria, who will die and be forgotten because she made nothing, and the garland-poem for Dica, in which the Graces themselves prefer the flowered to the bare. Book Four is the opposite case: almost nothing quoted, one papyrus roll — and in that roll, a poem with the best recovery story in Sappho. In 1922 the Oxyrhynchus excavators published a column of torn line-endings: someone’s knees would no longer dance, someone’s hair had gone white, and Tithonus was named, the man whom Dawn loved and carried off, for whom she forgot to ask eternal youth to go with eternal life. In 2004 a Cologne papyrus of the third century BC — the oldest manuscript of Sappho known — was found to carry the beginnings of the same twelve lines, and the two ruins, eight decades and two thousand kilometers apart, closed over each other into a nearly whole poem on growing old. It is printed here from both witnesses: the Oxyrhynchus portions as the 1922 editors gave them, the Cologne portions as bare papyrus text, the still-missing openings left open rather than filled with any modern editor’s guesses. Around it stand the torn verses that came before and after it in the Oxyrhynchus roll — Sappho declaring that she loves delicacy, and that love has won her the brightness and beauty of the sun — and, as an addendum, the seven verses that precede the poem in the Cologne roll, in which an aging singer with her lyre hopes for honor below the earth as she had it above. Each fragment is printed under its standard Lobel-Page / Voigt number with its preserving source noted, so every scrap is citable. The same roll yielded some forty further scraps of a few letters each (frr. 59-80 and 83-90 in the standard numbering); they are deferred to a later pass rather than printed badly, and the gap is left visible on purpose.

Rosy-armed holy Graces, come, daughters of Zeus.
Βροδοπάχεες ἄγναι Χάριτες, δεῦτε Διος κόραι.
Coming down from heaven, [wearing] a purple
mantle thrown about him.
Ἔλθοντ᾽ ἐξ ὀράνω πορφυρίαν [ἔχοντα]
περθέμενον χλάμυν.
But when you are dead you will lie there, and no memory of you
will remain, then or ever after: for you have no share in the roses
of Pieria. Unseen in the house of Hades,
flown from among us, you will wander with the dim dead.
Κατθάνοισα δὲ κείσεαι πότα, κωὐ μναμοσύνα σέθεν
ἔσσετ᾽ οὔτε τότ᾽ οὔτ᾽ ὔστερον. οὐ γὰρ πεδέχεις βρόδων
τῶν ἐκ Πιερίας, ἀλλ᾽ ἀφάνης κἠν᾽ Ἀῖδα δόμοις
φοιτάσεις πεδ᾽ ἀμαύρων νέκυων ἐκπεποταμένα.
Not one girl, I think, who looks on the light of the sun
will ever have wisdom like yours — not at any time.
Οὐδ᾽ ἴαν δοκίμοιμι προσίδοισαν φάος ἀλίω
ἔσσεσθαι σοφίαν πάρθενον εἰς οὐδένα πω χρόνον τοιαύταν.
And what country girl charms your mind,
one who does not know how to draw her rags
down over her ankles?
Τίς δ᾽ αγροιῶτίς τοι θέλγει νόον,
οὖκ ἐπισταμένα τὰ βράκε᾽ ἔλκην
ἐπὶ τῶν σφύρων;
]... [
].. about [
]... [
t]ouching [ ]
] I was grieved
] but [... ] her
]... [... ]
].. [... by ]name. [
] may set, upon the lips, a moving-forward.
] the beautiful gifts of the [violet-]bosomed ones, children,
] the song-loving, clear-voiced tortoise-lyre:
] my skin, that once was [ ] — old age now
] my hair, from black;
my heart has been made heavy, my knees will not carry me,
knees that once were quick to dance, like little fawns.
How often I groan for this. But what is there to do?
For a human being not to age — there is no way.
For once, they said, rosy-armed Dawn, by love [ ],
went off to the ends of the earth carrying Tithonus,
beautiful and young as he was; yet gray old age
caught him all the same, in time — and his wife immortal.
] counts as perished
] might bestow
[But I love delicacy,... ] this too is mine:
love has won me the bri[ght splendor of the sun, and what is beau]tiful.
].. [
loves. [
and. [
].. [
] now festivity. [
] and beneath the earth [
] holding the prize of honor, as is fitting,
] they would marvel — as now, while I am on earth,
] clear-voiced — [if], taking up the harp,
] -shell lyre, I sing in the chambers.
]λεσσαι. ιδ᾽ α[
].. πέρι [
]. ἐκε. [
θ]ίγοισα[. ]
]ιδ᾽ ἄχθην
]αλλ[..... ]ύταν
]... [... ]εισα
]ένα ταν[... ]νυμόν σ[
]νι θῆται στ[ύ]μα[σι] πρόκοψιν
]οκ[ό]λπων κάλα δῶρα, παῖδες,
]ν φιλάοιδον λιγύραν χελύνναν·
]ποτ᾽ [ἔ]οντα χρόα γῆρας ἤδη
]ένοντο τρίχες ἐκ μελαίναν·
βάρυς δέ μ᾽ ὀ [θ]ῦμος πεπόηται, γόνα δ᾽ [ο]ὐ φέροισι,
τὰ δή ποτα λαίψηρ᾽ ἔον ὄρχησθ᾽ ἴσα νεβρίοισιν.
τὰ στεναχίσδω θαμέως· ἀλλὰ τί κεν ποείην;
ἀγήραον ἄνθρωπον ἔοντ᾽ οὐ δύνατον γένεσθαι.
καὶ γάρ π[ο]τα Τίθωνον ἔφαντο βροδόπαχυν Αὔων
ἔρῳ φ.. αθεισαν βάμεν᾽ εἰς ἔσχατα γᾶς φέροισα[ν,
ἔοντα [κ]άλον καὶ νέον, ἀλλ᾽ αὖτον ὔμως ἔμαρψε
χρόνῳ πόλιον γῆρας, ἔχ[ο]ντ᾽ ἀθανάταν ἄκοιτιν.
φθ]ιμέναν νομίσδει
]αις ὀπάσδοι
[ἔγω δὲ φίλημ᾽ ἀβροσύναν,... ] τοῦτο καί μοι
τὸ λά[μπρον ἔρως ἀελίω καὶ τὸ κά]λον λέ[λ]ογχε.
ἐπιν[... ]νό. [
φίλει. [
καὶ ν[
]. υχ.. [
]νῦν θαλ[ί]α πα[
] νέρθε δὲ γᾶς περ[... ]οι
]ον ἔχοισαν γέρας ὠς [ἔ]οικεν
]ζοιεν ὠς νῦν ἐπὶ γᾶς ἔοισαν
]λιγύραν [α]ἴ κεν ἔλοισα πᾶκτιν
]λύνναν θαλάμοισ᾽ ἀείδω
And you, Dica — set garlands on your lovely hair,
binding sprigs of dill together with your soft hands:
for the blessed Graces look first to what comes
flowered, and turn away from the ungarlanded.
Σὺ δὲ στεφάνοις, ω Δίκα, περθέσθ᾽ ἐράταις φόβαισιν,
ὄρπακας άνήτοιο συν ῤραισ᾽ ἀπάλαισι χέρσιν,
ἐυάνθεσιν ἒκ γὰρ πέλεται καὶ χάριτος μακαιρᾶν
μᾶλλον προτέρην, ἀστεφανώτοισι δ᾽ ἀπυστρέφονται.
Mnasidica is more shapely than tender Gyrinno.
Εὐμορφοτέρα Μνασιδίκα τᾶς ἀπάλας Γυνίννως.
Anyone more scornful than you, Irana, I have never met.
Ἀσαροτέρας οὔδαμ᾽ ἐπ᾽ ὦ ῤάννα σέθεν τύχοισα.

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Fragments of Books Three and Four

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