The following poem is as thoroughly unsurprising as it is abominable
Anacreon, fr. 417
“Thracian filly, why do you
Flee me without pity
When you give me a side glance with your eyes?
Do you think I know no trick at all?
Know this, I could easily
Put a bridle in your mouth
And with its reins in my hand
Turn you around the race’s bends.
But now you graze through the meadows
and you leap, playing lightly
Because you do not have a skillful rider
To mount you.”
πῶλε Θρηικίη, τί δή με
λοξὸν ὄμμασι βλέπουσα
νηλέως φεύγεις, δοκεῖς δέ
μ’ οὐδὲν εἰδέναι σοφόν;
ἴσθι τοι, καλῶς μὲν ἄν τοι
τὸν χαλινὸν ἐμβάλοιμι,
ἡνίας δ’ ἔχων στρέφοιμί
σ’ ἀμφὶ τέρματα δρόμου·
νῦν δὲ λειμῶνάς τε βόσκεαι
κοῦφά τε σκιρτῶσα παίζεις,
δεξιὸν γὰρ ἱπποπείρην
οὐκ ἔχεις ἐπεμβάτην.
This charming horror is preserved in Heraclitus, who prefaces it with the following:
417 Heraclit. Alleg. Hom. 5 (p. 5s. Buffière)
“And Anakreon the Teian, in abusing the whorish thought and arrogance of an uppity woman applied as an allegory for her cavorting mind a horse, when he says the following”
καὶ μὴν ὁ Τήιος Ἀνακρέων ἑταιρικὸν φρόνημα καὶ σοβαρᾶς γυναικὸς ὑπερηφανίαν ὀνειδίζων τὸν ἐν αὐτῇ σκιρτῶντα νοῦν ὡς ἵππον ἠλληγόρησεν οὕτω λέγων·
