Leonidas of Tarentum Quotes (0-)

“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.
• 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.”

“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.’
• 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.””

“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 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.”