Leonidas of Tarentum

Leonidas of Tarentum (fl. 3rd century BC) was a Hellenistic poet of Magna Graecia.

Quotes

Anth. Pal. vi. 4.

His lengths of rod, and hooks of bended steel, / The baskets where he packed his finny prey, / His fisherman’s device, the osier creel, / That leads the scaly wanderers astray. —H. Kynaston

• Εὐκαπὲς ἄγκιστρον, καὶ δούρατα δουλιχόεντα,
  χὠρμιήν, καὶ τὰς ἰχθυδόκους σπυρίδας,
  καὶ τοῦτον νηκτοῖσιν ἐπ᾽ ἰχθύσι τεχνασθέντα
  κύρτον, ἁλιπλάγκτων εὕρεμα δικτυβόλων,
  τρηχύν τε τριόδοντα, Ποσειδαώνιον ἔγχος,
  καὶ τοὺς ἐξ ἀκάτων διχθαδίους ἐρέτας,
  ὁ γριπεὺς Διόφαντος ἀνάκτορι θήκατο τέχνας,
  ὡς θέμις, ἀρχαίας λείψανα τεχνοσύνας.
  • Diophantus the fisherman, as is fit, dedicates to the patron of his craft these relics of his old calling, his hook, easily gulped down, his long poles, his line, his creels, this weel, device of sea-faring netsmen for trapping fishes, his sharp trident, weapon of Poseidon, and the two oars of his boat.
    • W. R. Paton, Greek Anthology, i, pp. 300–1.
  • HIS lengths of rod, and hooks of bended steel,
    The baskets where he packed his finny prey,
    His fisherman’s device, the osier creel,
    That leads the scaly wanderers astray—
    His three-pronged gaff like to Poseidon’s spear—
    His pair of oars, from rowlocks now removed—
    Old Diophantus offers of his gear
    These to the patron of the art he loved.
    • E. D. Stone, A Short Memoir of Herbert Kynaston, 1912, pp. 19–20.

Anth. Pal. vii. 657 {G-P 19}

In Earth’s name, for the dark Persephone. —W. G. Headlam

To me, in answer to the bleating flock, / Pipe softly, shepherd, seated on the rock. —H. Kynaston

To those that earn, / Doubt not, the dead feel thanks, and make return. —W. G. Headlam

• Ποιμένες οἳ ταύτην ὄρεος ῥάχιν οἰοπολεῖτε
    αἶγας κεὐείρους ἐμβοτέοντες ὄις,
  Κλειταγόρῃ, πρὸς Γῆς, ὀλίγην χάριν, ἀλλὰ προσηνῆ
    τίνοιτε, χθονίης εἵνεκα Φερσεφόνης.
  βληχήσαιντ᾽ ὄιές μοι, ἐπ᾽ ἀξέστοιο δὲ ποιμὴν
    πέτρης συρίζοι πρηέα βοσκομέναις:
  εἴαρι δὲ πρώτῳ λειμώνιον ἄνθος ἀμέρσας
    χωρίτης στεφέτω τύμβον ἐμὸν στεφάνῳ,
  καί τις ἀπ᾽ εὐάρνοιο καταχραίνοιτο γάλακτι
    οἰός, ἀμολγαῖον μαστὸν ἀνασχόμενος,
  κρηπῖδ᾽ ὑγραίνων ἐπιτύμβιον εἰσὶ θανόντων
    εἰσὶν ἀμοιβαῖαι κἀν φθιμένοις χάριτες.
  • Ye shepherds who roam over this mountain ridge feeding your goats and fleecy sheep, do, in the name of Earth, a little kindness, but a pleasant one, to Cleitagoras, for the sake of Persephone underground. May the sheep bleat to me, and the shepherd seated on the unhewn rock pipe soft notes to them as they feed, and may the villager in early spring gather meadow flowers and lay a garland on my grave. May one of you bedew it with the milk of a ewe, mother of pretty lambs, holding her udder up and wetting the edge of the tomb. There are ways, I assure you, even among the dead of returning a favour done to the departed.
    • W. R. Paton, Greek Anthology, ii, p. 351.
  • YE SHEPHERDS, who along these ridgy banks
      Your goats and fleecy flocks to pasture guide,
    To please the Shadow-Queen some gift of thanks
      In tribute to Cleitagoras provide.
    To me, in answer to the bleating flock,
    Pipe softly, shepherd, seated on the rock:
    Let rustic maids, to deck my tombstone, bring
    A garland of the first wild-flowers of spring;
    And some kind hand the ewe’s full udder press,
      A rich libation from that source to shed
    Over my resting place: such tenderness
    Earns grateful thanks, aye earns them from the dead.
    • E. D. Stone, A Short Memoir of Herbert Kynaston, 1912, p. 19.
  • SHEPHERDS, that o’er this ridgy mountain-steep
    Come pasturing with your goats and fleecy sheep,
    In Earth’s name, for the dark Persephone,
    Grant me one favour, slight, but sweet to me!
    Here let the sheep bleat, and the shepherd play
    Soft music from the bare rock while they stray:
    And when the Spring comes, from the meadow bloom
    Some peasant weave a wreath, to wreathe my tomb:
    And some one bring a milch-ewe lately lambed,
    Hold the udder up, and let the stream undammed
    Fall on the flat grave-stone. To those that earn,
    Doubt not, the dead feel thanks, and make return.
    • W. G. Headlam, A Book of Greek Verse (1907), 192–3

Anth. Pal. xvi. 182. "On the Aphrodite Anadyomene of Apelles"

Fair Kypris, rising from her mother's breast / Her beauty with the salt sea foam aglow, / Apelles saw and bade the loveliest / Vision of joy upon his canvas grow. —C. Whibley

Her quince-shaped breasts her wondrous charms declare. —C. Whibley

• Τὰν ἐκφυγοῦσαν ματρὸς ἐκ κόλπων, ἔτι
  ἀφρῷ τε μορμύρουσαν, εὐλεχῆ Κύπριν
  ἰδὼν Ἀπελλῆς, κάλλος ἱμερώτατον,
  οὐ γραπτόν, ἀλλ᾽ ἔμψυχον ἐξεμάξατο.
  εὖ μὲν γὰρ ἄκραις χερσὶν ἐκθλίβει κόμαν,
  εὖ δ᾽ ὀμμάτων γαληνὸς ἐκλάμπει πόθος,
  καὶ μαζός, ἀκμῆς ἄγγελος, κυδωνιᾷ:
  αὐτὰ δ᾽ Ἀθάνα καὶ Διὸς συνευνέτις
  φάσουσιν ‘ὦ Ζεῦ, λειπόμεσθα τῇ κρίσει.’
  • Apelles having seen Cypris, the giver of marriage blessing, just escaped from her mother’s bosom and still wet with bubbling foam, figured her in her most delightsome loveliness, not painted, but alive. With beautiful grace doth she wring out her hair with her finger-tips, beautifully doth calm love flash from her eyes, and her paps, the heralds of her prime, are firm as quinces. Athena herself and the consort of Zeus shall say, Zeus, we are worsted in the judgment.”
    • W. R. Paton, Greek Anthology, v, pp. 264-5.
  • FAIR Kypris, rising from her mother's breast,
      Her beauty with the salt sea foam aglow,
    Apelles saw and bade the loveliest
      Vision of joy upon his canvas grow.
    A living form, which seems to breathe and move!
      She draws her taper fingers through her hair;
    In her calm eye shines soft the light of love;
      Her quince-shaped breasts her wondrous charms declare.
    Then, then Athena and great Hera yield
    Confessing, “Zeus, for her we quit the field.”
    • C. Whibley, Selections from the Greek Anthology (1895), p. 119.