-
Alkaios
- Indiana University Press
- Chapter
- Additional Information
33 alkaios Alkaios Alkaios’ poetry is deeply involved in his political vicissitudes. The greater part of his life was spent in fighting reform movements which shook the established aristocracy of his native island Lesbos. He was born around 630 bce. Some twenty years later the reigning tyrant, Melanchros, was overthrown by Pittakos and the brothers of Alkaios. Alkaios was for a time involved in the alliance with Pittakos, and even fought with him against the Athenians at Sigeion (near Troy). But a break came, and Pittakos allied himself with Myrsilos to govern Mytilene while Alkaios went into exile at Pyrrha (another town on Lesbos). At the death of Myrsilos, Alkaios returned home but was soon in exile again, this time apparently traveling widely, as far as Egypt. (His brother served in the army of Babylon under Nebuchadnezzar , in campaigns which led to the capture of Jerusalem, 597 bce.) Some time after 590 bce Pittakos forgave Alkaios, and the latter probably returned home. Alkaios’ works consisted of at least ten books, chiefly monodic. Hymns, political, erotic and sympotic poems predominate. He wrote in the Aiolic dialect, in a direct and emphatic style. In his political poems Alkaios shows considerable similarity to Theognis. Both were hard-core aristocrats, convinced of the superiority of their class and cause, identifying private values with public right. (Alkaios seems to have gone so far as to support revolution against the established government.) The influence of Alkaios is probably most seen in three places: the appropriations of Alkaios’ forms and subjects by Horace; the recurrent metaphor (in poetry and elsewhere) of the “ship of state”; and the convivial poem (compare “Winter Evening” with Horace, Odes 1.9, and Milton, Sonnet XX). Alkaios is rightly awarded the golden quill in that part of his work where he assails tyrants; his ethical value is also great; his style is concise, magnificent, exact, very much like Homer’s; but he stoops to humor and love when better suited for higher themes. Quintilian The Greek Period 34 Instant I already hear the flowering spring. Prayer to the Constellation Dioskouroi, Patron Deities of Mariners Come with me now and leave the land of Pelops, mighty sons of Zeus and Leda, and in kindness spread your light on us, Kastor and Polydeukes. You who wander above the long earth and over all the seas on swift horses, easily delivering mariners from pitiful death, fly to the masthead of our swift ship, and gazing over foremast and forestays, light a clear path through the midnight gloom for our black vessel. Winter Evening Zeus rumbles and a mammoth winter of snow pours from the sky; agile rivers are ice. Damn the winter cold! Pile up the burning logs and water the great flagons of red wine; place feather pillows by your head, and drink. Let us not brood about hard times. Bakchos, our solace is in you and your red wines: our medicine of grape. Drink deeply, drink. Summer Star Wash your gullet with wine for the Dog Star returns with the heat of summer searing a thirsting earth. Cicadas cry softly under high leaves, and pour down shrill song incessantly from under their wings. The artichoke blooms, and women are warm and wanton— [54.165.122.173] Project MUSE (2024-03-28 22:09 GMT) 35 alkaios but men turn lean and limp for the burning Dog Star parches their brains and knees. Why Wait for the Lighting of the Lamps? Let us drink. Why wait for the lighting of the lamps? Night is a hair’s breadth away. Take down the great goblets from the shelf, dear friend, for the son of Semele and Zeus gave us wine to forget our pains. Mix two parts water, one wine, and let us empty the dripping cups—urgently. Drink, Song and Ships Why water more wine in the great bowl? Why do you drown your gullet in grape? I cannot let you spill out your life on song and drink. Let us go to sea, and not let the wintry calm of morning slip by as a drunken sleep. Had we boarded at dawn, seized rudder and spun the flapping crossjack into the wind, we would be happy now, happy as swimming in grape. But you draped a lazy arm on my shoulder, saying: “Sir, a pillow, your singing does not lead me to ships.” Costume But let them hang braided garlands of yellow dill around our necks, and drape strands of redolent myrrh across...