It is universally recognized that in the fragments of Hipponax there are many references to Homer, in both language and content. In this paper I analyse the relationship between Hipponax’ poetic persona and the character of Odysseus.

The choliambic metre of the prologue poem of Persius’Satiresis key to understanding the poem’s message. On the one hand it creates a link to Hipponax as the canonical exponent of the iambic genre and to the tale of his inspiration transmitted by Giorgios Choiroboskos, and so attests the presence of the iambic poet in the cultured literary circles at Nero’s imperial court. On the other hand the poet alludes to Callimachus, his iambic poetry and his poetology, and so adopts (...) his rejection of a poetry that has sunk to mere literary convention. This casts new light both on Persius’ own claim to be asemipaganusand on his mockery of the profit-orientedcorviandpicae. (shrink)

Among the many textual difficulties that beset Ovid's Ibis are two passages that allude, in an oblique fashion typical of the whole poem, to the iambographer Hipponax: et quae Pytheides fecit de fratre Medusae, eveniant capiti vota sinistra tuo, utque parum stabili qui carmine laesit Athenin, invisus pereas deficiente cibo.

Scholars have traditionally interpreted Hipponax fragment 128 as an epic parody designed to belittle the grand pretensions and gluttonous habits of his enemy. I suggest, however, that this traditional reading ultimately falls short because of two unexamined assumptions: that the meter and diction of the fragment are exclusively meant to recall epic narrative and not any other early hexametrical genre, and that the descriptive epithets in lines 2 and 3 are the ad hoc comic creations of the poet and (...) simply refer to the table manners of a glutton or a parasite. I argue instead that this fragment in several ways reflects the language, the meter and the performative goal of hexametrical chants or incantations designed to expel harmful famine demons or to escort human scapegoats from the city. I also suggest that the vivid and somewhat comic descriptions of the enemy in fragment 128 probably do not aim at his personal eating disorders, but rather they are drawn from two interrelated and generic features of archaic Greek thought: a tradition of describing famine-demons as insatiable eaters, and a popular theme in Greek invective which demonizes political enemies as rapacious pests who threaten to gobble up the commonwealth of the city and who therefore must be expelled from the community, precisely like a famine-demon. (shrink)

‘When I use a word’, Humpty Dumpty said, in a rather scornful tone, ‘it means just what I choose it to mean—neither more nor less.’In his recent note on Hipponax in this journal, Joseph Cotter first offers ‘a revised version of LSJ's definition’ of ὄρχις. At LSJ, s.v. ὄρχις I, ‘… testicle Hippon. 92.3 W. …’, he would delete the Hipponactean citation and rewrite the second definition, under ΙΙ, to read: ‘from similarity of shape, 1 glans penis, Hippon. 92, (...) 2. from the form of its root …’. Cotter derives his new definition from his reading of that Hipponactean line, καί μοι τὸν ὄρχιν τῆς φαλ[ …, which he supplements with the name of a marsh bird, φαλ[ηρίδος, also redefined. This supplementary ‘coot’ is said to mean ‘cock’, so that the narrator of the fragment's description of treatment for sexual impotence tells how a Lydian woman ‘thrashed with fig-branch the glans of my cock’. We are presented, then, with two previously unattested meanings of two nouns, ὄρχις and φαληρίς, and an accommodating correction of LSJ. What—I have asked Cotter—might Henry Liddell have thought of these innovations, familiar as he undoubtedly was with Humpty Dumpty's semantics! (shrink)

The long expected volume xviii of the Oxyrhynchus Papyri is now in our hands. Besides important pieces of Callimachus, it contains many exciting fragments of early Greek poetry. Most of them were in a state of apparently hopeless mutilation, but have been triumphantly restored by the unsurpassed learning and inexhaustible patience of Mr. Lobel. The new treasures provide ample material for prolonged investigation. At present I only want to draw attention to an interesting fact emerging from the commentary on (...) class='Hi'>Hipponax. (shrink)

Callimachus has a resurrected Hipponax dramatize his revival of archaic iambus by summoning a learned Alexandrian audience to hear a humble tale of Thales and his fellow sages. The strange blend of surly address and genial legend, all in bantering choliambs, offers more than a homily on modesty for contentious intellectuals. In its modulation of tone, theme, and mode, the first Iambus presents a paradigm for literary renewal. Both persona and embedded narrative demonstrate the symbiosis of poetry and its (...) "well-read" muse, and the prospects that newly expanded intellectual and cultural horizons afford. (shrink)

Goffredo Coppola, the Italian editor of this papyrus, supposed that τὸν ὄρχιν = τοὺς ὄρχεις; but he was puzzled when no likely erotic word seemed available to finish the line. He suggested φαλ[ῆς, from φαλός = λευκός to be followed by some metaphorical word for penis such as κέρκου. Romagnoli noted that it made no sense to have the testicle dependent on the penis, and argued that Hipponax here intended ὄρχις to refer metaphorically to the glans penis; therefore, he (...) emended to καί μοι τὸν ὄρχιν τῆς φαλ[ῆς ἐκλέψασα ; but his feminine form τῆς φαλ[ῆς is unlikely given the masculine form τοῦ φάλεω in Hipponax fr. 21 W. Medeiros suggested ὄρχις, sing. = ὄσχη ‘scrotum’; West actually exalted the role of the testicle by emending to τῆς φαλ[άκρης ἕλκουσα ‘pulling my testicle by the bald spot’; but it is not obvious why hitting the testicles merits such attention in a narrative fixed on the failure to attain an erection. (shrink)

Comparison of the Iliadic Thersites with his character in non-Homeric traditions, the iambic personas Archilochos and Hipponax, the disguised Odysseus in the Odyssey, Karna in the Mahābhārata, and with sociological models suggests that his ongoing neikos ("conflict") with Odysseus and Achilleus (neikeieske, Iliad 2.221) is constructed as one between social equals, and so can be described in terms of elite competition, in contrast with the common interpretation of the scene as class conflict. The elite competition model offers fresh perspectives (...) on class relations in Homeric society and can help to explicate the opposition between the heroics of Odysseus and of Achilleus and help to delineate the thematics of the fragmentary Aithiopis. (shrink)

Los orígenes de la poesía yámbica en la Grecia arcaica suelen remontarse a las festividades comunitarias y los rituales religiosos relacionados con los cultos de Deméter y Dioniso. Estas festividades coinciden con el yambo principalmente en la presencia de invectiva, obscenidad y descarnada burla. El presente trabajo se propone indagar precisamente en algunos testimonios concernientes a diversas ceremonias de estas dos divinidades que, aunque tardíos y de transmisión indirecta, nos permiten retomar los hilos entre las canciones cultuales y el yambo (...) literario. En efecto, tal como se puede deducir de los mismos, es probable trazar una continuidad entre el ámbito religioso y cultural de las festividades eleusinas y dionisíacas en el mundo griego arcaico y las composiciones yámbicas específicamente literarias, surgidas hacia el s. VII a. C. Nos centraremos en ciertos yambos de los famosos poetas Arquíloco de Paros e Hiponacte de Éfeso, donde, a nuestro entender, se observan reflejos de aquellas antiguas canciones rituales. Iambic poetry in Ancient Greek often dates back to communal celebrations and religious rituals traced to the cults of Demeter and Dionysus. These events coincide with the Iambus, mainly featuring invective, insulting and obscene language. The present work intends to precisely look into some testimonies relating to different ceremonies of these two deities that, although late and indirectly passed on, they allow us to pick up again the threads between cultural songs and literary iambus. In fact, as can be inferred from them, it is possible to draw a continuity line between the religious and cultural context of the Eleusinian and Dionysian festivities in the archaic Greek world and the specifically literary iambic compositions that emerged around the 7th century BC. We will focus on certain Iambus of the famous poets Archilochus of Paros and Hipponax of Ephesus, which, to our knowledge, are reflections of those ancient ritual songs. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Iambic Poetics in the Roman Empire by Tom HawkinsGideon NisbetTom Hawkins. Iambic Poetics in the Roman Empire. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014. xi + 334 pp. Cloth, $99.This stimulating and highly readable book explores the ancient afterlife of three famous literary bully-boys: Archilochus, Semonides, and Hipponax, the unholy Trinity of archaic Greek iambus. Tom Hawkins sets out to examine their reception, not among the classical and Hellenistic (...) Greek poets to whom they were living forebears (although the Callimachean intertext is a lively presence, e.g., 40–51, 146–49), or in the literary flourishing that they in turn inspired in late Republican and “golden” Augustan Rome, but amid authors of the Empire and Late Antiquity, extending into a recognizably Christian age. Only one of the six authors chosen (Babrius) adopts an iambic meter, and three—Dio, Lucian, and Julian—do not even compose verse (or not here). Hawkins’ choices are piquant. He has sought out the kinds of text that classicists generally skip: odd, minor works by the less reputable pagans, and by the type of early churchman we tend [End Page 180] gratefully to surrender to our colleagues in theology. Indeed, some are scarcely read at all (qua texts) but merely dipped into as a source of corroborating factoids, at least until now (142, on Gregory Nazianzen). Hawkins contends that an “iambic tradition” of sorts remains culturally alive and vital throughout these early centuries c.e.: a tradition not so much of metrical continuation or even necessarily of working closely with the archaic texts, but nevertheless retaining a definite sense of the constituent elements (e.g., animal-fable, a scruffy narrator) that, variously combined, let the reader or audience know they are in dialogue with an “iambic mode” (terms are defined in the introduction’s first footnote, 2).Authors and readerships of these centuries had at their command much more of the text of the archaic iambicists than is available to us moderns, provided they cared to read it and could understand what they read (28–29 suggests it was often otherwise). Today, Archilochus et al. are mere tattered ghosts, pieced together by editorial ingenuity out of citations and mentions, and latterly read in papyrus fragments gleaned from ancient rubbish heaps (the heroes of this scholarly epic of reconstruction include the late Professor Martin West, news of whose death came shortly before this review went to press). Some of the Imperial poets and prose authors studied by Hawkins envisage an ideal reader to whom archaic iambus is an open book, but the true constant is the ancient biographical tradition about Archilochus in particular (the stories told about the others are often recognizable knock-offs, but all three are names to conjure with; there are grounds for thinking that Archilochus had become literally proverbial for invective abuse even among non-readers, 27). Hawkins is very good at showing how these interwoven life-stories took on a life of their own and continued to grow in the telling (9), all the more so perhaps as actual familiarity with the texts waned. Over several centuries and numerous genres, the malleable myth of iambus—the slighted outsider, embracing abjection to shock a complacent Establishment and shame his nemeses—proved endlessly useful as a temporary vantage point when authors felt like taking a walk on the wild side.The iambic tradition tracked by Hawkins thus has “more to do with the sediment of cultural memory about iambic poets and their poetry than with historical realities, but once we get beyond a fascination with origins, such sediment becomes the only reality worth talking about” (8). In Hawkins’ readings of his chosen texts, this textual-biographical muck is fertile stuff. Iteration and generic migration turn the iambic life-story into a potent and versatile literary trope which usefully combines ironic distance (to be, or even make like Archilochus is an obvious non-starter in such a belated and grown-up age), and thus self-evident deniability, with the implicit threat that traces of iambus’ murderous power may yet remain. For Hawkins, the hint is if anything strengthened by repeated, name-checking recusationes that keep the iambic biopic in the... (shrink)

A persistent ancient tradition has it that a man named Lycambes promised his daughter Neoboule in marriage to the poet Archilochus of Paros, that he subsequently refused Archilochus, and that the poet attacked Lycambes and his daughters with such ferocity that they all committed suicide. When we reflect that the iambographer Hipponax drove his enemies Bupalus and Athenis and Old Comedy a man named Poliager to suicide, that the ancestress of iambos, Iambe, killed herself, and that all these suicides, (...) like those of Lycambes and his daughters, took the form of hanging, we will not take too seriously the ending of the story of Archilochus' relations with Lycambes and his family. However, it seems now to be generally accepted, at least among English-speaking scholars, that the whole Lycambes tradition is to be rejected. The present note seeks to demonstrate that this extreme scepticism is misguided. I shall begin with a survey of Archilochus' references to Lycambes and his family to ascertain how far the indirect tradition is consistent with the surviving fragments. Lycambes appears to have played a consistent role in Archilochus, as far as the fragments allow us to see. In fr. 38 he appears as the father of two daughters , in fr. 33 as the father of at least one daughter. In fr. 71 his role cannot be determined. But in fr. 54, if his name is correctly restored in v. 8, he may again figure as the father of a daughter, for a female is mentioned in the fragment, whether for good or ill. If his patronymic is correctly supplied in fr. 57.7, it may be significant that the letters πατρ occur in the same verse. (shrink)

Here Horace gives warning to an adversary of his powers of literary attack, comparing himself with the great iambists Archilochus and Hipponax . The general sense of the last two lines seems clear: ‘If someone attacks me , shall I weep like a mere boy?’, i.e. ‘Am I not to take revenge?’.

Epode 10: the Mystery of Mevius' Crime Horace's tenth Epode, an inverse propempticon, calls down dire curses on the head of a man named Mevius as he leaves on a sea-voyage.1 Scholars have naturally been interested in what Mevius had done to merit such treatment, but answers have been difficult to find, for nothing explicit is said on this topic in the poem; as Leo noted, ‘[Horatius] ne verbo quidem tarn gravis odii causam indicat’. This is in direct contrast with (...) the Strasbourg epode usually attributed to Hipponax , which served as Horace's model in this poem; there it is clear that the similar curses on a departing sailor are caused by his breaking of oaths to the poet and betrayal of their previous friendship . One might expect Horace to give some kind of indirect suggestion of the nature of Mevius’ offence, but even this is despaired of by Fraenkel: ‘There is no hint at the sort of crime which Mevius is said to have committed, nor is anything said about the man himself; he remains an entirely shadowy figure’. The best that scholars have been able to do is to follow the ancient commentary of Porphyrio in suggesting that Horace's Mevius is to be identified with the poetaster attacked by Vergil in Ecl. 3.90 ‘qui Bavium non odit, amet tua carmina, Mevi’. Though it is pleasant to think of Vergil and Horace, perhaps by now friends in the circle of Maecenas, ganging up on a luckless hack, there is, as Fraenkel points out, no mention in the tenth Epode that Mevius is a poet, and his literary incompetence, assuming he is Vergil's poet, does not seem to underlie or indeed warrant the bitter imprecations of the poem: Catullus might wish a dire fate on the works of a bad poet , but to long for their author's shipwreck and consumption by gulls might indeed seem excessive. (shrink)