οὔτοι πόλλ’ ἐπὶ τόξα τανύσσεται, οὐδὲ θαμειαὶ
σφενδόναι, εὖτ’ ἂν δὴ μῶλον Ἄρης συνάγηι
ἐν πεδίωι· ξιφέων δὲ πολύστονον ἔσσεται ἔργον·
ταύτης γὰρ κεῖνοι δάμονές εἰσι μάχης
δεσπόται Εὐβοίης δουρικλυτοί.
Not will many bows be strung, and the slings will not be tightly packed, when Ares shall bring together struggle in the plain. The much-groaning work will be of swords. For they are skilled of this [sort] of battle, the spear-famed lords of Euboea.
οὐδὲ θαμειαὶ σφενδόναι, – here σφενδόναι aren’t the slings but rather the missiles thrown from them: the missiles won’t be flying fast and furious. It won’t be a battle of bows and arrows or of slings–it will be a battle of swords: the two armies will be engaged in hand to hand combat.
I suppose it’s the Iliad’s mention of them as αιχμηται, “spearmen,” coupled with the fact that δουρικλυτος in this position is Iliadic, that saves the epithet from being intolerably jarring in this context of sword-fighting. Still, it offends delicate sensibilities like mine.
But why I’m posting is to bring attention to the new Archilochus fragment, POxy 4708, an epic-like account—but in elegiacs—of the episode in which the Greeks landed at Mysia and were routed by Telephus when they attacked his city under the mistaken impression that it was Troy. It’s an important episode in the Trojan saga (set prior to the Trojan War itself, and recounted in the lost epic-cycle Kypria), but most of its literary representatives, of which there were many, are lost. It’s depicted in detail on the Telephus frieze of the Pergamon Altar, the stunning highlight of the Pergamonmuseum in Berlin, a marvel of Hellenistic sculpture.
In terms of its significance for literary history the new fragment overshadows even the notorious Cologne epode, since we didn’t know that Archilochus wrote such poems.
εἰ δὲ] . [ . . . . ] . [ . ] . . θεου̂ κρατερη̂[ϲ ὑπ’ ἀνάγκηϲ
οὐ χρη̂] ἀ̣ν̣[α]λ̣[κίη]ν̣ κ̣αι κακότητα λέγει̣[ν·
ν̣ω̂τ̣ ἐ̣τ̣[ρεψάμ]εθ’ αἰ̣̂ψ̣α φυγει̂ν φεύγ[ειν δέ τιϲ ὥρη·
5 κ̣α̣ί̣ π̣οτ̣[ε μ]ου̂νοϲ̣ ἐ̣ὼν̣ Τήλεφοϲ ’Α̣ρκα̣[ϲίδηϲ
’Αργείων ἐφόβ̣ηϲε πολὺν στρατ̣[όν,] ο̣[ἱ δὲ φέβοντο
ά̣̓λκι̣μ̣[οι,] ἠ̣̂ τ̣όϲα δὴ μοι̂ρα θεω̂ν ἐ̣φόβε̣ι̣,
αἰχμητ̣α̣ί̣ περ̣ ἐόντε[ϲ.] ἐϋρρείτ̣ηϲ δὲ Κ[άϊκοϲ
π]ι̣π̣τ̣ό̣ν̣των νεκύων ϲτείνετ̣ο καὶ [πεδίον
10 Μ̣ύϲ̣ι̣ο̣ν̣, οἱ̣ δ’ ἐπὶ θι̣̂ν̣α̣ πολυφλο̣ιϲβοι[ο θαλάϲϲηϲ
χέρϲ’] ὑ̣π’ ἀμειλίκτου φωτὸϲ ἐναιρό[μενοι
προ]τ̣ροπάδην ἀπ̣έ̣κλινον ἐϋκν̣ήμ̣[ιδεϲ ’Αχαιοί·
ἀ]σ̣πάϲιοι δ’ ἐϲ νέαϲ̣ ὠ[κ]υ̣π̣όρ[ο]υ̣ϲ̣ [ἐϲέβαν
π̣αι̂δέϲ τ̣’ ἀ̣θανάτων κ̣α̣ὶ̣ ἀδελφεο̣ί̣, [οὓϲ ’Αγαμέμνων
15 Ἴ̣λιον εἰϲ ἱερὴν ἠ̂γε μαχηϲομένο̣[υϲ·
ο]ἱ̣ δὲ τότ̣ε̣ β̣λαφθέντεϲ ὁδου̂ παρὰ θ[ι̂ν’ ἀφίκοντο·
Τε]ύθραντοϲ̣ δ̣’ ἐ̣ρ̣ατὴν πρ̣ὸϲ πόλιν [ἐ]ξ̣[έπεϲον·
ἔ]ν̣θ̣α̣ [μ]έ̣ν̣ο̣ϲ πνείοντ̣ε̣ϲ̣ ὁμωϲ αυτ̣ο̣[ί τε καὶ ἵπποι
ἀ]φ̣ρ̣[αδί]ηι μεγάλωϲ θυμὸν ἀκηχ̣έ̣[δατο·
20 φ]ά̣ντ̣ο̣ γ̣ὰρ ὑψίπ̣υλον Τρώων πόλιν̣ εἰϲ[ἀναβαίνειν
. . ] . . . . η̣ν̣ δ’ ἐπάτευν Μυσίδα πυροφόρο̣[ν
̔Ηηρακλ]έ̣η̣ϲ̣ δ̣’ ἤ̣ν̣τηϲ̣[ε] βοω̂ν̣ ταλ̣[α]κάρδιον [υἱόν
οὐ̂]ρον ἀ̣μ̣[εί]λ̣ι̣κ̣[τον] δηί̈ωι ἐν [πολ]έ̣μ̣[ωι
Τ]ήλεφον ὃϲ̣ Δ̣α̣ν̣α̣οι̂ϲι κακην̣ [τ]ό̣[τε φύζαν ἐνόρϲαϲ
25 ἤ]ρ̣ειδ̣ε[ν μο]υ̣̂ν̣οϲ̣, πατρὶ χαριζό̣μ̣[ενοϲ
I think that I understand this, up until lines 21-25. Is Hercules the nom. subject of ἤντησε? (The extra η looks like a typo.) What is the object? And what is Telephus doing in accusative there? (Edit: there’s a translation on the web, and it looks like 21-25 say exactly what they appear to. Hercules appearing in the middle shouting to his son surprised me, since Hercules isn’t the center of the story.)
“Is Hercules the nom. subject of ἤντησε?” Apparently.
“And what is Telephus doing in accusative there?” Grammatically it must be the object of βοω̂ν̣. ανταω usually takes genitive or dative. But I don’t think that matters and Τ]ήλεφον can be viewed as the complement of both verbs, with the case determined by the closest.
“Hercules appearing in the middle shouting to his son surprised me, since Hercules isn’t the center of the story.” It’s a fragment, after all; maybe that would be clearer if we had more of it–assuming it’s not complete as is. Or perhaps Heracles’ appearance figured in some way in Archilochus’ sources for the myth, which perhaps were familiar to Archilochus’ audience. Fragments of archaic verse like this typically pose many such questions and scholars struggle, not always convincingly, to answer them. I think that before the discovery of this poem, the general impression was that Archilochus didn’t write mythological poetry–his poetry was focused on mundane things like non-heroic, indeed, anti-heroic warfare and bread and rape.
You know, it reminds me a lot of fr. 6:
ἀσπίδι μὲν Σαΐων τις ἀγάλλεται, ἣν παρὰ θάμνῳ
ἔντος ἀμώμητον κάλλιπον οὐκ ἐθέλων,
αὐτὸν δ᾽ἐξεσάωσα. τί μοι μέλει ἀσπὶς ἐκείνη;
ἐρρέτω· ἐξαῦτις κτήσομαι οὐ κακίω.
Fr. 6 could almost fit directly before POxy 4708, except for the “θεου̂”.