HERMESIANAX. THIS elegiac poet, born at Colophon, lived in the time of Alexander the Great. His chief work bore the name of his mistress, Leontium, and from it the following fragment has been preserved. THE LOVES OF POETS AND SAGES. SUCH was the nymph whom Orpheus led The undaunted minstrel smites the strings, Low-crouching rolls his haggard eyes And beauty triumph'd over death. The bard, whom night's pale regent bore Musæus, felt the sacred flame, And burnt for the fair Theban dame, Antiope, whom mighty Love Made pregnant by imperial Jove; The poet plied his amorous strain, Press'd the fond fair, nor press'd in vain; Homer, of all past bards the prime, From gods and heroes turned away And, wandering to the desert isle, On whose parch'd rocks no seasons smile, Chanting the suit-repelling queen. Old Hesiod, too, his native shade The bard his heaven-directed lore Soft, love-sick ditties now he sung, Love touch'd his harp, love tuned his tongue, Silenced his Heliconian lyre, And quite put out religion's fire. Mimnermus tuned his amorous lay, When time had turned his temples gray; Love revelled in his aged veins, Soft was his lyre and sweet his strains; Nanno his theme and youth his guest. Alcæus strung his sounding lyre, F'en Sophocles, whose honey'd lore Pythagoras, whose boundless soul And, trembling, drags his conqueror's car; E'en Socrates, whose moral mind Favor me with a beggar's basket; 'tis No matter though a torch have singed it. Dic. None-beyond the wish to have it. Eur. Away, and quit my doors: thou breedest trouble. Dic. (aside). A pestilence upon thee! (Aloud) Happy bard, Heaven fortune thee, as erst thy lady mother! Eur. Will thou begone? Dic. Not till I have my craving: One little cup, so please you; one whose lip Eur. Take it and begone: Your presence breeds disturbance. Dic. But, sweet Euripides! I fain would have A pipkin with a cleanly sponge to wipe it. Eur. The man will rob me of a tragedy complete. Content your wish with this; and now away (giving a pipkin). Dic. I have an ear to your request: one thing Remains: that one not granted me—I am A ruin'd man ;-crown it, and I am gone For ever. Telephus bore leaves and herbs; A scantling of the same within my basket. Eur. The man will be my ruin; see, 'tis granted (giving him leaves): A whole play lost, as I'm a living man. Dic. This timely grace completes me: I retire— It is too plain my presence breeds offence. These eyes know not to turn their view discreet On mighty men and pay them terms of honor A plague upon't, was ever such a wretch! I have forgot the primest thing of all. (Addressing Euripides) Thou dearest, best of men-I pray thee now With most petitionary vehemence— Crown but this one, one longing; if I ask Aught more, all plagues and maladies light on me!— Throw for the tender mercy one small potherb Thou canst not lack,-thy mother will supply thee.* Eur. Most frontless impudence! shut-to the door, boy. * The enemies of Euripides said that his mother had been a seller of potherbs. MENANDER. THOUGH there are but few fragments of the comedies of Menander, he has elicited high praise both from ancient and modern critics. These fragments show, more than other Greek writings, the modern spirit. As Aristophanes was the leader of the Attic Old, or Political Comedy, so Menander was the leader of the New Comedy, or comedy of private life and manners. He wrote more than a hundred comedies, not one of which survives. Latin adaptations of them were made by Terence, who thus won greater fame than his original. The great Cæsar, who was a keen critic, pronounced the Roman writer but a "semi-Menander." These Latin plays became models for later Europe whenever the drama revived. Menander was born in 342 B.C. and died in 291. His writings show the influence of the philosopher Epicurus, whom he describes as rescuing Greece "from unreason as Themistocles had rescued her from slavery." MAN'S LIFE. SUPPOSE Some god should say, "Die when thou wilt, Mortal, expect another life on earth; And, for that life make choice of all creation, What thou wilt be-dog, sheep, goat, man or horse; For live again thou must, it is thy fate; Choose only in what form-there thou art free." So help me, Crato, I would fairly answer,— Let me be all things, anything but man! He only of all creatures feels affliction. And see these villains lord it o'er their betters. IS LIFE WORTH LIVING? THE lot of all most fortunate is his, Who, having stayed just long enough on earth For what is life, the longest life of man, But the same scene repeated o'er and o'er? A few more lingering days to be consumed In throngs and crowds, with sharpers, knaves and thieves; THE PROPER USE OF WEALTH. WEAK is the vanity that boasts of riches, Foster the wants of men, impart your wealth, And purchase friends; 'twill be more lasting treasure, PHILEMON. PHILEMON, though inferior to Menander, was a great favorite with the Athenians, and often defeated his rival in the dramatic contests. Though born at Soli, in Cilicia, he spent most of his life in Athens, where he had been admitted to citizenship. He began to exhibit plays about 330 B.C., and is said to have composed altogether ninety-seven, yet only a few fragments of them remain. His favorite subjects were love intrigues, as was usually the case in the New Comedy, which he inaugurated. He is said to have died in the theatre, during the performance of one of his own compositions. |