King Demetrius (who had a noble
soul) did not—so they said—
behave at all like a king. He went
and cast off his golden clothes,
and flung off his shoes
of richest purple. In simple clothes
he dressed himself quickly and left:
doing just as an actor does
who, when the performance is over,
changes his attire and departs.
[1900; 1906]
The Glory of the Ptolemies
I’m the Lagid, a king. The possessor absolute
(with my power and my riches) of pleasure.
There’s no Macedonian, no Eastern foreigner
who’s my equal, who even comes close. What
a joke, that Seleucid with his vulgar luxe.
But if there’s something more you seek, then simply look:
the City is our teacher, the acme of what is Greek,
of every discipline, of every art the peak.
[1896; 1911; 1911]
The Retinue of Dionysus
Damon the artisan (none as fine
as he in the Peloponnese) is
fashioning the Retinue of Dionysus
in Parian marble. The god in his divine
glory leads, with vigor in his stride.
Intemperance behind. Beside
Intemperance, Intoxication pours the Satyrs wine
from an amphora that they’ve garlanded with vines.
Near them delicate Sweetwine, his eyes
half-closed, mesmerizes.
And further down there come the singers,
Song and Melody, and Festival
who never allows the hallowed processional
torch that he holds to go out. Then, most modest, Ritual.—
That’s what Damon is making. Along with all
of that, from time to time he gets to pondering
the fee he’ll be receiving from the king
of Syracuse, three talents, quite a lot.
When that’s added to the money that he’s got,
he’ll be well-to-do, will lead a life of leisure,
can get involved in politics—what pleasure!—
he too in the Council, he too in the Agora.
[1903; 1907]
The Battle of Magnesia
He’s lost his former dash, his pluck.
His wearied body, very nearly sick,
will henceforth be his chief concern. The days
that he has left, he’ll spend without a care. Or so says