HELLENISTIC REUSE OF AEOLIC METRES

Abstract

Alexandrian poetry is mostly characterized by the metrical forms of the hexameter and the elegiac distich, but also provides evidence of experimental attempts to innovate formal aspects of rhythm and metre. Taking inspiration from the archaic tradition of monody and song-making, especially in the third century b.c. poets toyed with verse forms that allowed them to ‘widen the repertory’ of metres available for the composition of literary poems,¹ using them in stichic forms, as markers of poetic expertise. This article explores some of these experiments and aims at unveiling the Hellenistic reuse of metres from the archaic tradition of lyric poetry (such as the greater asclepiad and the pherecratean) to evoke specific narrative tropes, thus generating literary associations through metre.

This article examines selected Hellenistic poetic passages and fragments (with a focus on Callimachus’ non-elegiac ones) composed in greater asclepiads and pherecrateans, two glyconic metres that, as such, are centred on a choriambic nucleus; these are considered in this survey as representative case studies of the Hellenistic reuse of lyric metrical forms with an eye to content and narrative. The article will therefore explore the possibility that experiments with expanded choriambic structures were used by later poets to evoke the poetic contexts that came to be associated with these metres in the Archaic period. Among these, human–divine interactions (particularly in erotic contexts) seem to align with the Hellenistic reuse of choriambic patterns. Elements of métrique verbale are also key to the Hellenistic reworking of lyric metrical models, ² as the metricality of lyric poems could be alluded to through a marked formal structuring. Literary aspects of content and narrative progression may have further concurred, as this paper will argue, to evoke the dimension of lyric poetry in Hellenistic experiments with choriambic metres.

THE GREATER ASCLEPIAD: SEAFARING AND UNFULFILLED LOVE

The greater asclepiad (× × – ⏑ ⏑ – – ⏑ ⏑ – – ⏑ ⏑ – ⏑ –) occurs distichically in Sappho Book 3, ³ of which frr. 53–7 survive. It was apparently used by Asclepiades of Samos (hence its name, although no line by him in such metre survives; see Theoc. Id. 7.37–41), and is also used by Theocritus (Idylls 28, 30 and possibly the fragmentary 31) and Callimachus (fr. 400 Pf.). It is generally interpreted as a glyconic with two choriambic expansions, ⁴ in keeping with the modern metrical tradition that gives prominence to the choriamb as the constitutive unit of this type of verse. ⁵ For the purpose of synchronic description, this choriambic nucleus can be ‘isolated’ from the initial foot (the Aeolic base) and from the last one, which is also variable (iambic or spondaic).

Choriambic metres are thus susceptible of expansions or contractions and could also be employed stichically (as in Sappho Book 2). In light of its characteristic choriambic expansions, the greater asclepiad could be related to other structures that denote Hellenistic metrical experimentalism, such as the catalectic choriambic pentameter of Callim. fr. 229 and the catalectic choriambic hexameter of Philicus’ Hymn to Demeter (Suppl. Hell. 680), ⁶ which will be compared later in this survey. In the Hellenistic period, when the sense of musical performance was gradually lost, these metrical experiments reflected a high degree of self-consciousness and mastery of the structures used by poetic predecessors, with the main aim of exploiting generic expectations.

The present section explores the literary associations of seafaring/tempestuous voyages, erotic themes and human–divine interactions, which are prompted through the use of the greater asclepiad. Common elements at the level of content are observed in Callimachus’ fr. 400, Theocritus’ Idyll 30 and Catullus 30, all in greater asclepiads, which variously elaborate on motifs of erotic distress and compare it with loss of control in seafaring owing to the action of dominant elements (the sea and the wind). These themes are developed within a broader narrative framework of interaction between mortals and gods, for instance in the form of the speaker’s prayer for divine intervention. A thematic association of these texts with Sappho fr. 55, which is achieved through metre, vocabulary and word order, will be further suggested.

Among Theocritus’ Idylls in greater asclepiads, images of seafaring in contexts of love and friendship, within a frame of religious communication, characterize both Idyll 28 (where in line 5 Theocritus asks Zeus for ‘fair winds’ for his voyage to Miletus to visit his friend Nicias) and Idyll 30. ⁷ See especially Id. 30.29–32:

… ταῦτα γάρ, ὤγαθϵ,

βόλλϵται θέος ὂς καὶ Δίος ἔσφαλϵ μέγαν νόον

καὔτας Κυπρογϵνήας· ἔμϵ μάν, φύλλον ἐπάμϵρον

σμίκρας δϵύμϵνον αὔρας, ὀνέλων ὦκα φόρϵι <πνόᾳ>.

That, my friend, is the will of the god who can upset the great mind of Zeus and of Aphrodite herself. As for me, he swiftly takes me up and carries me away like a short-lived leaf which needs only the slightest breeze. ⁸

Idyll 30 displays the internal monologue of the speaker (an elderly lover) who is afflicted with passion for a young and fickle beloved, unsuitable to his years. The theme emerging in the poem’s final part is the levity of erotic feelings and human affections, which make the enamoured man vulnerable and unprotected. ⁹ The voyage metaphor is in keeping with this image, as the power of Love to control men is compared to the superior force of the elements (sea and wind) to transport and carry everything along without encountering resistance. In turn, the young beloved, continuously changing friends, is compared to a sailor always casting off for the next destination (χαλάσϵι δ’ ἀτέρᾳ ποντοπόρην αὔριον ἄρμϵνα, 19); as a result, the lover cannot help but acknowledge his human limitations, by comparing his distress to the hopeless wandering of an ‘ephemeral leaf’ (φύλλον ἐπάμϵρον, 31) transported by the breeze. ¹⁰ A narrative frame of human–divine interaction is implied, thus, in the lover’s bitter acknowledgement of the tyranny of Love, who leads him into a state of anguish.

In Callim. fr. 400 (Anth. Pal. 13.10; 69 HE) this narrative framework takes the form of an invocation for divine help, where the themes of unfulfilled love and voyage at sea are hinted at:

ἁ ναῦς, ἃ τὸ μόνον φέγγος ἐμὶν τὸ γλυκὺ τᾶς ζόας

ἅρπαξας, ποτί τϵ Ζανὸς ἱκνϵῦμαι λιμϵνοσκόπω

Ship, that abducted the only sweet light of my life,

by Zeus who watches the harbour I beseech you … ¹¹

The fragment is generally considered a propemptikon for a departing friend, and therefore is concerned with travelling and possibly heartbreak. ¹² A personified ship is accused through apostrophe of having ‘snatched’ the beloved (ἅρπαξας, 2), and Zeus ‘watcher of the harbour’ is invoked for protection on the departed, in a sorrowful tone of supplication, possibly owing to lovesickness. Further confirmation that these themes are connected can be found in the fact that Callim. fr. 400 provides a model for Horace’s propemptikon for Virgil setting out for Greece, also composed in greater asclepiads (alternating with glyconics; Carm. 1.3.5–8 nauis, quae tibi creditum | debes Vergilium, finibus Atticis | reddas incolumem precor, | et serues animae dimidium meae); ¹³ here, similarly as in the Callimachean fragment, through apostrophe the speaker blames the ship for the departure of the friend. So, besides sharing the same metrical pattern, both Callim. fr. 400 and lines 5–8 of Hor. Carm. 1.3 open with the same discursive technique, by directly addressing the ship. ¹⁴

In Callim. fr. 400 this thematic connection between seafaring and human affections, in the form of the speaker’s lamentation for his separation from the departed, is heightened through funerary vocabulary. This is the case of ἁρπάζω, a common verb in lamentations for premature death, which is used to address the personified ship that ‘snatched’ away the friend or beloved. ¹⁵ Such funerary undertone comes to the fore also in an epigram by Callimachus in Anth. Pal. 12.73.1–2 (4 HE): here the poet is in doubt as to whether the half of his soul which is missing (the beloved) has been taken by Love or Death (ἥμισυ δ᾿ οὐκ οἶδ᾿ | ϵἴτ᾿ Ἔρος ϵἴτ᾿ Ἀΐδης ἥρπασϵ); what is certain, the speaker adds, is that such half is ‘no longer visible’, ‘obscure’ (πλὴν ἀφανές, 2). ¹⁶ This image is in keeping with the idea in fr. 400 that, after the beloved’s departure, the lover has been deprived of the ‘only sweet light’ of his life (1). ¹⁷

The use of ἀφανής in a context of erotic affliction and the reference to the absence of the beloved as the absence of the light of life in Callimachus’ propemptikon prompt a thematic association with Sappho fr. 55, from Book 3, where the same adjective ἀφανής qualifies the addressee in the darkness of Hades:

… ἀλλ᾿ ἀφάνης κἀν Ἀίδα δόμῳ

φοιτάσῃς πϵδ᾿ ἀμαύρων νϵκύων ἐκπϵποταμένα.

Unseen in the house of Hades, flown from our midst, you will go to and fro among the shadowy corpses. ¹⁸

In an invective against an unidentified woman, the bitter fate that awaits her is described as an aimless wandering in Hades, where the woman would be unseen and unknown to anyone. In light of this image, the fragment has been interpreted as an elaboration of the trope of the ‘immortal fame’ (κλέος ἄφθιτον) that the poetic medium grants both to the poet and to the song’s subject. ¹⁹ Nevertheless, this invective could also be understood within a framework of unfulfilled love, as the possible reconstruction of πόθα in line 2 would suggest: οὐδέ ποτα μναμοσύνα σέθϵν | ἔσσϵτ’ οὐδὲ πόθα ϵἰς ὔστϵρον (‘there will never be any recollection of you or any longing for you’). The description of the woman’s wandering recalls the wording used to describe the departure of the beloved in a context of erotic lamentation. The roaming of the woman in the underworld in fr. 55.5 is expressed through the close juxtaposition of two verbs of flying, φοιτάω and ἐκποτάομαι, stressing the ephemerality of the interlocutor even among the dead. Such ephemerality is reminiscent of Theoc. Id. 30.31–2, where the lover is compared to a φύλλον ἐπάμϵρον fluttering at the mercy of the slightest breeze. Furthermore, as mentioned above, in Id. 30.19 Theocritus employs seafaring as a metaphor for the departure of a fickle beloved: the verb χαλάσϵι, anticipating the fact that the young man ‘will cast off’ and sail elsewhere, occurs in the same metrical position as the form φοιτάσῃς in Sappho fr. 55.5, predicting the fate of the addressee who ‘will flutter’ unseen in the house of Hades.

In Idyll 30, the speaker’s bitter awareness that any attempt to defeat the god and its compulsion is hopeless is further stressed by verbs of necessity and constraint in the final lines (χρή, 28; ϵἴτ’ οὐκ ἐθέλω, 29; δϵύμϵνον, 32). A similar tone characterizes the speaker’s invective against the personified ship in Callim. fr. 400 (ἅρπαξας, 2, at the beginning of the line). In Catullus 30, composed in greater asclepiads at the end of the Hellenistic period, the beloved is similarly said to have ‘induced’ the speaker to love him (inducens at line 8, also in first position):

certe tute iubebas animam tradere, inique, <me>

inducens in amorem, quasi tuta omnia mi forent.

idem nunc retrahis te ac tua dicta omnia factaque

uentos irrita ferre ac nebulas aerias sinis.

si tu oblitus es, at di meminerunt, meminit Fides,

quae te ut paeniteat postmodo facti faciet tui.

Certainly you were telling me to entrust my life, wicked one,

leading me to love, as if everything were safe for me.

Now you, the same person, pull yourself away and all your words and deeds

you let the winds and airy clouds carry off in vain.

If you have forgotten, the gods however remember, Loyalty remembers,

and she hereafter will make you repent of your deed. ²⁰

The initial part of this poem (7–12) features a similar combination of themes related to seafaring as a metaphor for disappointed friendship: by reproaching Alfenus for having betrayed his fides, Catullus addresses his interlocutor in a way that is allusive of erotic troubles (cf. 7–8). In this case, too, this address occurs within an underlying framework of religious invocation, as at the very end of the poem the gods are called upon to witness Alfenus’ betrayal and outrageous conduct (11–12).

Catullus’ tone of reproach evokes the similar tone used by Sappho in fr. 55 in her invective against the unnamed woman, who could well be blamed for a similar betrayal of friendship or erotic feelings. In Catullus’ final lines, the notion that the gods have memory of human actions, in contrast with human supposed forgetfulness (si tu oblitus es, at di meminerunt, meminit Fides, 11), seems to echo and reverse Sappho’s wish that her addressee may wander in Hades forgotten and unseen (fr. 55.4 ἀλλ᾿ ἀφάνης κἀν Ἀίδα δόμῳ), as no human being will ever remember or desire her (2–3). Both Catullus 30 and Sappho fr. 55, thus, seem to be manifestations of a poetic mode centred around the speaker’s invective against a silent interlocutor, within a broader context of damaged human relations. Catullus’ experiments with the greater asclepiad could have been perceived by his contemporaries as a clear allusion not only to the archaic lyric tradition in this metre but also to the Hellenistic experiments of Callimachus and Theocritus. ²¹

Scholars have already commented upon the similarity in wording, imagery and metre between Theocritus’ Idyll 30 and lyric fragments by Sappho and Alcaeus. ²² By adding Callim. fr. 400 in greater asclepiads to this discussion, a scenario emerges in which recurring tropes are employed in Hellenistic texts composed in lyric metres to evoke literary and thematic associations, in this case between seafaring and disappointed love, which are expressed in a plaintive narrative tone. Furthermore, considering the traditional association of Aphrodite with safe sea journeys and reciprocal love, the thematic connection between elements related to seafaring and love, expressed in a context of human–god interaction, gains additional meaning. ²³

PHERECRATEAN AND NUPTIALS

The pherecratean, a catalectic glyconic (× × – ⏑ ⏑ – ×), is involved in similar Hellenistic experiments with versification to create allusions on the level of shared themes (in this case, about nuptials) and narrative modes. This metre occurs in two Sapphic fragments on wedding songs, 111 (especially at line 1) ²⁴ and 141, both representing two rare instances of the pherecratean in a poetic incipit. ²⁵ Indeed, this verse mostly occurs as clausula of glyconic or polymetric stanzas, as in the case of Corinna’s mythological fragment on the nine daughters of Asopus (PMG 654 coll. ii–iv, fourth century b.c.), ²⁶ which describes their union with the gods and therefore focusses on nuptials. Callim. fr. 401 (70 HE) employs the pherecratean stichically (Heph. Poëm. 58.20 and 64.4 Consbr.), and possibly in an epigrammatic context (Caesius Bassus in Gramm. Lat. 6.261) also to evoke the theme of (forced) marriage (see ϵὐναίους ὀαρισμούς, 3): ²⁷ the fragment describes the situation of a clausa puella and her reluctance to marry, and therefore represents a further elaboration on the same topic. ²⁸ The metrical interpretation of these lines, especially the Sapphic fragments, is not straightforward. ²⁹ Nevertheless, a relationship between versification in these texts and other aspects, such as word order, lexical choices and literary content, can be fruitfully investigated.

In PMG 654 Corinna elaborates on a traditional narrative of abduction of the nine daughters of Asopus, who are forced into marriage by the gods, and skilfully turns it into a positive account of their nuptials. The story is related to Asopus by a seer who consoles him for the recent disappearance of his daughters. By exhorting Asopus to rejoice for the fate of the maidens, who will become immortal by living with the gods, the seer embodies Corinna’s innovative approach to the myth, as her fragment provides a more dignified account of divine abduction than the account in the Panhellenic tradition around Asopus’ myth. The use of matrimonial language in the reference to the beds (λέκτρα, 16) and in the use of verbs denoting the construction of family bonds (ἔχι, 12; γᾶμϵ, 14; ἑκουρϵύων, 46) ³⁰ increases the readers’ perception that the Asopids’ account is a story of peaceful interaction between humans and gods (cf. ἀσπασίως, 48). ³¹

Nevertheless, a subtle coercive tone underlying this narrative of marriage emerges, for instance, from the expression λέκτρα κρατούνι (‘rules the beds’) at line 16 referring to Apollo, from the micro-narrative of forced abduction prompted by the persuasive power of Eros and Aphrodite in lines 17–21 (where the maidens are said to have been ‘taken’ by the gods: ἑλέσθη, 21), and from Asopus’ reaction in the final stanza, whose joy at clasping the seer’s hand in greetings (ἀσπασίως δϵξιᾶς ἐφαψάμϵνος, 48–9) is followed by a reference to the bittersweet shedding of tears at line 50. ³² It would be tempting to consider Callim. fr. 401 as a further elaboration on the same undertone of forced nuptials through the description of the rebellious clausa puella:

ἡ παῖς ἡ κατάκλϵιστος

τὴν οἴ φασι τϵκόντϵς

ϵὐναίους ὀαρισμούς

ἔχθϵιν ἶσον ὀλέθρῳ.

The child shut-in

whom the parents say

hates the nuptial whispers

like death. ³³

As already observed, ³⁴ Callimachus here toys with the pherecratean by repeating it throughout the poem in a quasi-epigrammatic form. By providing a learned allusion to the girl’s aversion to marriage (3–4), Callimachus establishes a connection between metrical pattern and literary content. Such connection is highly evocative of the traditional narrative of the forced nuptials of Asopus’ daughters, ³⁵ which Corinna poetically innovates in her fragment.

Corinna’s fragment insists on the credibility of the oracular source, by means of the seer’s genealogy at lines 27–41 and the emphasis on the ‘truthfulness’ of his account at lines 31 and 43; these strategies seem to reflect the poetess’ attempt to gain authority for her own account of the Asopids’ marriage to the gods. Metre can help highlight the key elements of this search for credibility: the pherecratean clausula is employed twice to underscore the centrality of the ‘honour’ (τιμάν, at the beginning of lines 36 and 41) that the oracular ability represents for the seer, and at line 31 the pherecratean opens with a reference to the ἀψϵύδϵια (‘truthfulness’) with which he was gifted (cf. 26, where the clausula opens with another key reference to the oracular tripod). The enjambement across stanzas at lines 16–17 and 36–7, thus at the beginning and towards the end of the oracular account, marks it as a continuous narrative flow, despite its stanzaic pattern, which bridges the divide between the present of the Asopids’ fate and the past of the seer’s genealogy. It is through the past narrative about the seer that his present account of the Asopids (and, through this, Corinna’s version of the myth) gains poetic authority, thus becoming ‘true’ (31 and 43).

The positive tone set by Corinna in her innovative treatment of a myth of nuptials recalls the cheerful spirit of Sappho’s wedding songs in frr. 111 and 141. This is the text of fr. 111:

ἴψοι δὴ τὸ μέλαθρον,

ὐμήναον,

ἀέρρϵτϵ, τέκτονϵς ἄνδρϵς·

ὐμήναον.

γάμβρος † (ϵἰσ)έρχϵται ἶσος † Ἄρϵυι,

ἄνδρος μϵγάλω πόλυ μέσδων.

On high the roof

Hymenaeus!

Raise up, you carpenters

Hymenaeus!

The bridegroom is coming, equal to Ares,

much larger than a large man. ³⁶

In the fragment, the speaker addresses the τέκτονϵς ἄνδρϵς (3, with epic flavour), ³⁷ bidding them to raise high the roof to welcome the bridegroom; using a hyperbolic language, at lines 5–6 he is equalled to Ares and qualified as a man of exceptional height. ³⁸ The combination of the verb ἀϵίρω with the adverb ἴψοι (Att. ὑψοῦ) could also figuratively suggest a growing agitation. ³⁹ An abstract notion of ‘enlargement’ is conveyed, thus, by the references to the upcoming ‘big’ bridegroom and to the raising of the roof, and by a general sense of increasing enthusiasm in the fragment (as denoted also by the final comparative hyperbole). This notion reverberates also through metre both on formal and rhythmic levels, by means of the dactylic expansions of the pherecratean at lines 3 and 5, which intensify the pace of the song. Aspects of metre, imagery and figurative language all contribute to convey a univocal meaning through different mechanisms of signification.

The joyful excitement of wedding celebrations finds full expression in Sappho fr. 141, which provides readers with a privileged viewpoint on the gods attending a wedding:

κῆ δ᾿ ἀμβροσίας μὲν

κράτηρ ἐκέκρατ᾿,

Ἔρμαις δ᾿ ἔλων ὄλπιν θέοισ᾿ ἐοινοχόησϵ.

κῆνοι δ᾿ ἄρα πάντϵς

καρχάσι᾿ ἦχον

κἄλϵιβον, ἀράσαντο δὲ πάμπαν ἔσλα

τῷ γάμβρῳ.

There of ambrosia

a bowl had been mixed,

and Hermes, having taken the jug, poured wine for the gods.

They all

held drinking-cups

and poured libations, and invoked all sorts of blessings

on the bridegroom. ⁴⁰

The gods’ benevolent attitude towards the bridegroom (6–7) contrasts with their attitude towards humans in Corinna’s fragment, where they secretly seize the daughters of Asopus. Sappho’s fragment features the responsion of cognate dimeters at lines 3 and 6: ⁴¹ these lines convey the main actions of the scene, both belonging to a ritual context, namely Hermes pouring wine for the gods (3) ⁴² and the gods invoking blessings on the γάμβρος (6). Furthermore, both pherecrateans at the beginning of each stanza open with distal deictics that create a separation between Sappho’s (and the audience’s) mortal perspective and the distant realm of the divine feast (κῆ, Att. ἐκϵῖ, 1; κῆνοι, of the gods, 4). The remoteness of the described scene is conveyed also by the pluperfect ἐκέκρατο (2), describing the mixing of ambrosia as the emblem of an unattainable divine reality.

The noun for the bridegroom, in the dative, represents the solemn ending of the fragment, which scans as a molossus (τῷ γάμβρῳ): this recalls the Cretan hymn to Zeus of Palaikastro, ⁴³ where the molossus occurs in the last dimeter of each stanza, thus confirming its suitability to a ritual, hymnic narrative. ⁴⁴ In Sappho’s fragment, too, the final molossus, providing a sense of rallentando, accompanies with grauitas the notion that the gods invoke blessings on the bridegroom. ⁴⁵ Sappho seems to exploit the expressive potentialities of metre to prompt literary and generic connections with the hymnic narrative mode and the marriage ritual, for which wedding songs are designed: on the one hand, the pherecrateans highlight the key deictic elements establishing the divine frame of reference of the narrative as a distant one (‘there’, 1; ‘those’—namely, the gods, 4); on the other hand, the molossus at line 7, slowing down the rhythmic progression, reflects the solemn tone of prayer suggested by the main action of line 6 and the sacred context of the wedding song. Metre, thus, affects the audience at the level of sensory perception and supports their sense-making process.

The selected fragments provide evidence of the way in which the metre of the pherecratean is used to prompt generic and literary allusions to the theme of nuptials. Allusions operate on different levels—content, rhythm, imagery, figurative language—to suggest a multilayered perception and interpretation of the texts on the part of the audience. In frr. 111 and 141 Sappho establishes a narrative tone of joyful celebration, both among gods and among humans, which can evoke the real-life performance of wedding songs. Corinna seems to pick up on this positive characterization of the nuptials to innovate the traditional narrative of abduction about the Asopids and turn it into an account of peaceful interaction between mortals and gods. In Callim. fr. 401, the focus shifts to the miniature narrative and state of the secluded maiden, who hates marriage ‘like death’ (ἶσον ὀλέθρῳ, fr. 401.4). ⁴⁶ The exaggerated tone of this expression is reminiscent of the hyperbolic comparison of the bridegroom to Ares in Sappho fr. 111.5 (ἶσος Ἄρϵυι, introduced by the same adjective as in Callim. fr. 401.4, with both expressions occurring at the end of the line) and recalls the other hyperbole in fr. 111.6 (ἄνδρος μϵγάλω πόλυ μέσδων, ‘much larger than a large man’, also at the final line of the fragment). Moreover, Sappho’s cheerful accounts of nuptials are developed around the narrator’s external perspective respectively on a scene of divine celebration (fr. 141) and on the bridegroom’s arrival (fr. 111); by contrast, Callimachus’ elaboration on the same theme is an introspective narrative of forced marriage, which is described from the internal viewpoint of its main character. Further inferences on the way in which Callimachus may have translated lyric antecedents into forms that could suit the taste of his Hellenistic audience will be made in the following section, which explores the relationship between a Callimachean non-elegiac fragment on the interaction between a woman and a goddess (fr. 228) and its possible intertext (Sappho fr. 1).

CHORIAMBIC METRES IN TEXTS ON HUMAN–DIVINE INTERACTIONS

Both Sappho fr. 1, in Sapphic stanzas, and Callim. fr. 228 Pf., in archebuleans (× – ⏑ ⏑ – ⏑ ⏑ – ⏑ ⏑ – ⏑ – –) are constructed on the fundamental metrical unit of the choriamb. The Sapphic hendecasyllable (– ⏑ – × – ⏑ ⏑ – ⏑ – ×, constituting the first three lines of the Sapphic stanza) has a choriambic nucleus, preceded by a trochaic syzygy. The archebulean, used in Callimachus’ ‘Deification of Arsinoe’ (fr. 228), is also an expanded choriambic pattern, ⁴⁷ which seems to occur always stichically; in Greek drama, it recurs in choral sections within larger polymetric structures, where the enjambement often helps (re)create a sense of connection among lines in different metres. ⁴⁸ The unit of the choriamb may provide, thus, a joining link between Sappho fr. 1 and the stichic archebuleans of Callim. fr. 228. Both fragments present similarities in content, as they describe the familiar interaction between a woman and a goddess (Sappho and Aphrodite in fr. 1; Philotera and Charis in fr. 228). Callim. fr. 228 is the result of the Hellenistic learned experimentation with lyric metres, but is also an occasional poem on the death of Arsinoe II Philadelphus, plausibly performed at court. This would explain the allusions to the dimension of real-life songmaking (to which Sappho’s poems belong), for instance through the initial invocation that Apollo may lead the choral performance (ἀγέτω, 1).

The sense of stichic progression underlying Callim. fr. 228 seems to be suggested, as far as its fragmentary nature allows to observe, also by the irregular presence of enjambement occurring indifferently at the end of both odd and even lines. ⁴⁹ This is exemplified by the first narrative section of the fragment, especially lines 40–4:

σαμάντριαν ἃ δὲ πυρᾶς ἐνόησ᾿ ἰ[ωάν,

ἃν οὖλα κυλινδομέναν ἐδίωκ[ον αὖραι

<… … … >

ἠδ᾿ ἂμ μέσα Θρηϊκίου κατὰ νῶτα [πόντου

Φιλωτέρα· ἄρτι γάρ οἱ Σικϵλὰ μὲν Ἔννα

κατϵλϵίπϵτο, Λαμνιακοὶ δ᾿ ἐπατϵῦ[ντο βουνοί

The blast, the indicator of the funeral pyre, she noticed,

which was carried by the breezes as it rolled curling

…

and along the mid-surface of the Thracian Sea,

Philotera; for a short time ago Sicilian Enna

she had left, and was walking on the hills of Lemnos. ⁵⁰

The name of Philotera, Arsinoe’s sister, occurs in enjambement and wide hyperbaton only at the beginning of line 43, causing a first-foot iambus; ⁵¹ a further enjambement at line 44 (κατϵλϵίπϵτο) assures the stichic nature of Callimachus’ archebulean. Both instances, together with the relative ἅν at line 41 referring to the ἰωάν at the end of line 40, add a sense of fluidity to the narrative, which proceeds across figuratively interlinked lines. By contrast, lines 47–51, featuring Philotera’s direct address to Charis, display a close correspondence between syntactical structure and line unit. In this section, in a tone of extreme familiarity and a slight hint of pertness owing to Philotera’s agitation (which recalls Sappho’s pertness in reasserting the demands of her θυμός in the final stanza of fr. 1), ⁵² Philotera commands the goddess to investigate on the presence of the distant fire:

ἕζϵυ Χάρι τὰν ὑπά[τ]αν ἐπ᾿ Ἄθω κολώ[ναν,

ἀπὸ δ᾿ αὔγασαι, ἐκ πϵδίου τὰ πύρ᾿ αἰ σαπ[

τ]ίς ἀπώλϵτο, τίς πολίων ὁλόκαυτος α[ἴθϵι.

ἔνι μοι φόβος· ἀλλὰ ποτϵῦ· νότος αὐ[τὸς οἰσϵῖ,

νότος αἴθριος· ἦρά τι μοι Λιβύα κα[κοῦται;

Sit, Charis, on the top of Mount Athos,

see, if the fire comes from the … plain …

who has perished, which of the cities all on fire is blazing.

I am anxious. But fly off. The south wind will itself carry you,

the clear south wind; can it be that my Libya is being harmed?

A shift can be noticed from the fluid third-person narrative progression at lines 40–4 to the agitated rhythm of the second-person apostrophe at lines 47–51, where Philotera’s anxious thoughts are in close succession and each line ends with a distinct syntactical unit. This emerges already at lines 47 and 48, both of them opening with imperative forms (ἕζϵυ and ἀπὸ δ᾿ αὔγασαι, in tmesis) condensing the two main commands uttered by Philotera to Charis; the poet isolates the two imperatives in first position in two separate lines, thus providing Philotera’s utterances with a further authoritative tone. The nervous rhythm of this section’s progression further emerges if we compare Callim. fr. 228.49, which is entirely occupied by the indirect question τίς ἀπώλϵτο, τίς πολίων ὁλόκαυτος αἴθϵι (governed by ἀπὸ δ᾿ αὔγασαι, 48), and the indirect questions in Sappho fr. 1.15–18 ἤρϵ᾿ ὄττι δηὖτϵ πέπονθα κὤττι | δηὖτϵ κάλημμι, | κὤττι μοι μάλιστα θέλω γένϵσθαι | μαινόλᾳ θύμῳ (‘you asked what I have suffered again and why I was calling you again, and what I most of all wish to happen in my maddened heart’), which by contrast move across different stanzas. At the same time, the fact that Philotera’s indirect utterance is isolated from its main verb, occupying a whole line and resembling a τίς direct question, winks at the series of direct questions (uttered by Aphrodite) in Sappho fr. 1.18–20 (τίνα δηὖτϵ πϵίθω | ἄψ σ᾿ ἄγην ἐς Ϝὰν ϕιλότατα; τίς σ᾿, ὦ | Ψάπφ᾿, ἀδικήϵι;, ‘Whom am I to persuade again to lead you back to her love? Who wrongs you, Sappho?’). Noticeably, the interrogative pronouns are repeated for emphasis in both fragments, in anaphora in Callim. fr. 228.49 and in polyptoton in Sappho fr. 1. ⁵³

A further point of similarity between the fragments emerges from the description of the goddesses’ movements in relation to their human interlocutors. In Callim. fr. 228, by means of the imperative ποτϵῦ at line 50, following an adversative ἀλλά with marked dramatic effect, Philotera commands Charis to fly away from her towards Mount Athos, carried by the ‘south wind’, which is repeated in anaphora at line 51 (νότος αὐ[τὸς οἰσϵῖ, | νότος αἴθριος, 50–1); by contrast, fr. 1 relates that Aphrodite came to Sappho’s aid in the past by flying towards her down from heaven, carried by ‘beautiful swift sparrows’ (κάλοι δέ σ᾿ ἆγον | ὤκϵϵς στροῦθοι, 9–10). In both fragments the phrases conveying the idea that the goddess is carried in her flight by something (κάλοι δέ σ᾿ ἆγον in Sappho fr. 1.9 and νότος αὐτὸς οἰσϵῖ in Callim. fr. 228.50) occupy the same metrical positions in the second hemistich of the line and are both semantically related to the following elements: in Callim. fr. 228, νότος αἴθριος in the first hemistich of line 51 enlarges the meaning of νότος at the end of line 50, and ὤκϵϵς στροῦθοι in Sappho fr. 1.10 expands on κάλοι at line 9.

Both Callimachus and Sappho in their fragments use imperative forms in an emphatic manner. This emerges already from the opening sections, with the speakers’ invocations to deities. This is Callim. fr. 228.1–4:

ἀγέτω θϵός—οὐ γὰρ ἐγὼ δίχα τῶνδ᾿ ἀϵίδϵιν

π]ροποδϵῖν Ἀπόλλων

]κϵν δυναίμαν

κατ]ὰ χϵῖρα βᾶσαι.

May the god lead, for without them I (cannot) sing … Apollo to walk before … I would be able to … step in accord with his hand. ⁵⁴

And this is Sappho fr. 1.1–5:

ποικιλόθρον᾿ ἀθανάτ᾿ Ἀφρόδιτα,

παῖ Δίος δολόπλοκϵ, λίσσομαί σϵ,

μή μ᾿ ἄσαισι μηδ᾿ ὀνίαισι δάμνα,

πότνια, θῦμον,

ἀλλὰ τυίδ᾿ ἔλθ’ …

Ornate-throned immortal Aphrodite, wile-weaving daughter of Zeus, I entreat you: do not overpower my heart, mistress, with ache and anguish, but come here … ⁵⁵

The third-person imperative opening Callimachus’ fragment (attested in Heph. Poëm. 28.16 Consbr.) recalls Pind. Isthm. 8.1–5, where, although the speaker issues directions regarding the choral performance of the ode (ὦ νέοι, 2) to one of the young men using a third-person imperative (τις … ἰὼν ἀνϵγϵιρέτω | κῶμον, ‘let one of you go to awaken the revel’), there is no reason to assume that the speaker does not participate in the same κῶμος. Callimachus makes explicit the participation of the poetic I in the choral and divine performance by juxtaposing the third-person imperative address (‘let him lead’—namely, Apollo) to the first-person pronoun (‘for I …’) at line 1. ⁵⁶ A feature of the use of imperative forms in -tō is that ‘an instruction to a third party … must first be conveyed, involving a necessary element of futurity in the 3rd-person imperative’. ⁵⁷ Thus, forms in -tō would relate to a future more remote than the near future evoked by imperatives in -e and -te. In Callim. fr. 228.1 the imperative places the notion that Apollo will lead the dance in a much hoped-for future occurrence, as further supported by the potential optative δυναίμαν clarifying the implications of Apollo’s action for the poet. ⁵⁸

At the same time, the present tense of the imperative ἀγέτω prompts further considerations on issues of verbal aspect, especially in relation to the use of the present imperative in Sappho fr. 1.3. The opening of fr. 1 (λίσσομαί σϵ, | μή μ᾿ ἄσαισι μηδ᾿ ὀνίαισι δάμνα | πότνια, θῦμον, 2–4) is considered an example of the anomalous use of the present imperative in contexts of supplication, in place of the more common and milder μή + aorist imperative, through which the speaker does not compel the hearer, but only supplicates: by contrast, the present imperative conveys a strong note of ‘urgency’ in the speaker’s request that the interlocutor should halt an action (an urgency that, nevertheless, in fr. 1 is mitigated by the initial λίσσομαι). ⁵⁹ Instead of a supplication, Sappho is uttering a ‘cry of distress’, which requires the interlocutor to stop the action at once. Callimachus’ present imperative ἀγέτω conveys a similar sense of urgency, which contrasts with the connotation of futurity of third-person imperatives in -tō; Apollo’s action of leading the performance, showing the poet the way in which the thrēnos should be performed, must be started ‘right now’, as this is a necessary condition for Callimachus to sing about the death of Arsinoe.

Aspects of morphology, syntax, metre and figurative language, all concur to provide generic and literary allusions to common themes (in this case, human–god interactions and pleas for divine help) denoting the Hellenistic translation of lyric poetic models. The following section, comparing three Hellenistic choriamb-based poems on familiar interactions between human and divine interlocutors, further suggests that in the Hellenistic period this general framework of religious communication could have been associated with choriambic metres.

CALLIM. FRR. 228–9 AND PHILICUS’ HYMN TO DEMETER

Callim. fr. 228, in archebuleans, is here examined alongside two other choriamb-based Hellenistic poems—namely, Callim. fr. 229, in catalectic choriambic pentameters (– ⏑ ⏑ – | – ⏑ ⏑ – | – ⏑ ⏑ – | – ⏑ ⏑ – | ⏑ – ×), and Philicus’ Hymn to Demeter (Suppl. Hell. 676–80), in catalectic choriambic hexameters (– ⏑ ⏑ – | – ⏑ ⏑ – | – ⏑ ⏑ – | – ⏑ ⏑ – | – ⏑ ⏑ – | ⏑ – ×). ⁶⁰ Besides presenting metrical similarities, these poems share common features on the level of content and literary motifs. As already observed, fr. 228 concerns Philotera’s perception of Arsinoe’s death and her worried response, while interacting with a divine interlocutor (Charis). Fr. 229, which like fr. 228 belongs to the group of Callimachus’ four poems in stichic lyric metres, ⁶¹ relates the story of Branchus’ mantic initiation, which is overlaid with the narrative of Apollo’s love for the young shepherd. ⁶² Similarly, Philicus’ hymn relates Demeter’s wandering in search for her daughter and the women’s attempts to console her by means of the phyllobolia (51–3), within a narrative frame of maternal love and sorrow at the loss of Persephone. ⁶³

Thus, all three accounts share a key focus on the religious narratives underlying the poems’ mythical accounts, which resulted in the foundation of cults (Arsinoe’s mortuary temple in Alexandria; Branchus’ founding of the oracle at Didyma; the cults of Demeter and Persephone). ⁶⁴ Further literary associations can be prompted by the prominence of direct speech in both poems. Besides the interaction between Philotera and Charis in fr. 228, direct speech characterizes also the interaction between Apollo and Branchus in fr. 229.1–8; in Philicus’ hymn, Iambe directly addresses first the women (μὴ βάλλϵτϵ …, 56–7) and then Demeter (καὶ σύ … ὦ δαῖμον …, 58–62). ⁶⁵ As already observed, ⁶⁶ speeches are a prominent feature of the Homeric Hymns, where they can be associated with generic aspects of epic hexameter poetry, ⁶⁷ but are not frequent in lyric hymns. In Philicus’ poem, direct speeches add a strong dramatic quality and provide readers with privileged access to the characters’ thoughts and feelings. Thus, this hymn represents an innovative approach to the aetiology of Demeter’s cults and ritual aischrologia. ⁶⁸

Literary associations can be established among these three poems as they share an alternation of direct and indirect speeches, narrative frameworks of human–divine interaction and metrical features (choriambic metres, stichic pattern). Philicus claims to have invented the catalectic choriambic hexameter of his hymn (Suppl. Hell. 677) and this could suggest that his hymn predates Callim. fr. 229, ⁶⁹ where the poet may have produced a ‘moderated’ version of Philicus’ metre. Thus, besides using similar metrical patterns, both poets share an approach aimed at innovating literary compositions (and their traditional religious contents) by reinventing their form.

On the level of thematic echoes, both Callim. fr. 229 and Philicus’ hymn open with an initial invocation to the gods, who in Philicus’ Suppl. Hell. 676 are Demeter, Persephone and Clymenus (or Hades; τῇ Χθονίῃ μυστικὰ Δήμητρί τϵ καὶ Φϵρσϵφόνῃ καὶ Κλυμένῳ τὰ δῶρα) and in Callim. fr. 229.1 are Phoebus and Zeus (δαίμονϵς ϵὐυμνότατοι, Φοῖβέ τϵ καὶ Ζϵῦ, Διδύμων γϵνάρχα). In both instances, the names of the gods are placed in the second hemistich of the line, covering the third and fourth choriambs, and are related by τϵ καί; the name of the main character (respectively, Demeter in Philicus’ hymn and Apollo in fr. 229) occupies the third choriambic metron. More specifically, in Philicus fr. 676 the name of Demeter extends across the second and third choriambs, while Persephone’s name entirely occupies the space of the fourth choriamb, in a metrical and literary continuum between the two women, whose inseparability is thus formally reinforced. As partly noted, ⁷⁰ the δαίμονϵς Phoebus and Zeus, who are addressed in fr. 229.1 as the recipients of Callimachus’ forthcoming song, are possibly mentioned in light of their father–son relationship, which would reflect the mother–daughter relationship between Demeter and Persephone alluded to in Philicus fr. 676. ⁷¹

Furthermore, Callim. frr. 228–9 and Philicus’ hymn (like the already examined Sappho fr. 1) all display familiarity among the human and divine interlocutors. This already emerges in the best-preserved section of Philicus’ hymn (54–62), where Iambe addresses Demeter with ironic insolence, while attempting to console the goddess for the loss of Persephone (cf. the brief hint at this in Hymn. Hom. Dem. 202–3 χλϵύῃς μιν Ἰάμβη κέδν’ ϵἰδυῖα | πολλὰ παρασκώπτουσα, ‘with jokes true-hearted Iambe, intervening with many jests’). In Callim. frr. 228–9, direct speech and imperative forms contribute to this aspect. In fr. 229.5 Apollo uses the third-person present imperative μϵλέσθω to indirectly command Branchus to let someone else take on the responsibility of shepherding his flocks, as from now on he will commit himself to divination. This form conveys the same tone of urgency of the third-person imperative opening Callim. fr. 228 (ἀγέτω θϵός), this time of Apollo who should ‘lead the dance’. Similarly, the intimacy between Apollo and Branchus is heightened by the following infinitive ὁμαρτϵῖν in the fragmentary line 6, which can be considered equal to a second-person imperative, ⁷² occurring after a proper imperative form (as in Ar. Ach. 1000 ἀκούϵτϵ … πίνϵιν), or part of a χρή/δϵῖ + infinitive construction, also creating a sense of urgency about Branchus’ future.

Iambe, too, in her direct speech (56–62) employs imperative forms that set the colloquial tone of the forthcoming utterance. Through the negative command μὴ βάλλϵτϵ at line 56, Iambe reproaches the women for their inappropriate phyllobolia of simple leaves to Demeter, which she interprets as an ill-advised attempt to feed the goddess. ⁷³ The form ἐπάκουσον at line 58 is used to address directly the goddess: by toying with the language of invocation (for instance Aesch. Cho. 725 νῦν ἐπάκουσον, νῦν ἐπάρηξον, ‘now give ear, now come to aid!’), this imperative actually summons the goddess to do as Iambe bids, with an insolent tone that is characteristic of the woman’s unsophisticated manners (ϵἰμὶ δ’ ἀπαίδϵυτα χέα[σ’ ὡς ἂ]ν ἀποικοῦσα λάλος δημότις, ‘I have poured out uneducated words, like a babbling demeswoman who settled away from home’, 59). The aspectual difference between the present and aorist stems of these imperatives is relevant to the interpretation of this passage: on the one hand, the present μὴ βάλλϵτϵ aptly urges the women to halt their action at once, in the ‘here and now’ of Iambe’s utterance; on the other hand, the aorist form ἐπάκουσον expresses a general exhortation that the interlocutor may give ear to the speaker’s words. ⁷⁴

The exchanges between Iambe and Demeter in Philicus’ hymn, between Apollo and Branchus in Callim. fr. 229, and between Philotera and Charis in Callim. fr. 228 exemplify innovative treatments of religious narratives in which gods and mortals interact. Speeches and imperative forms contribute to create generic associations among these Hellenistic examples, which could echo the performative panorama of archaic lyric poetry and poetic contexts of human–divine interaction, of which Sappho fr. 1 provides a meaningful example.

The analysis of non-elegiac fragments from the Archaic and Hellenistic periods conducted in this article has shown that choriamb-based metrical patterns are employed innovatively in the Hellenistic period to establish connections with the Aeolic lyric poetic tradition and their poetic contexts. As to the main themes observed, these revolve around seafaring and erotic images in texts in greater asclepiads, and around the theme of nuptials in texts in pherecrateans. A further thematic connection could be inferred between Sappho fr. 1 and Callim. fr. 228 based on similarities in metres and shared themes of familiar interactions between deities and mortals; these contexts seem to be evoked by other Hellenistic experiments with choriambic metres—namely, Callim. fr. 229 and Philicus’ Hymn to Demeter. In these cases, too, where choriambic metres are used stichically, figurative language and discursive techniques contribute to create a sense of narrative progression, which may suggest Hellenistic attempts to transform and reshape earlier lyric poetry.