“I claim and I will always claim
That excellence has the greatest glory.
Wealth will flock to worthless people
And always tends to swell a person’s thoughts.
But the one who does well for the gods
Has more glorious hopes
To settle their heart.
But if someone has health
Even if mortal
And can live through their own household
They rival the best.
Truly, all pleasure
In a person’s life
Comes apart from disease
And a poverty with no cure.
Rich people desire big things
No less than the poor something smaller,
And there’s nothing sweet for mortals
In being able to get everything at all
Because they’re always straining to catch
Whatever is getting away.”
“Different people chart
Different paths as they try
To find unambiguous glory.
And there are 10,000 kinds of human knowledge.
The skilled person thrives in hope
Whether they’ve come into the Graces’ honor
Or learned some prophetic art.
One aims his fancy bow
At boys, while others
Build up their hearts
In their fields and herds of cattle.
The future shows how things turn out,
Where fortune puts its weight.
The best thing of all
Is to be a noble envied by many people.
I know something about wealth’s great power too:
It makes even a worthless man useful.
Why do I drive my tongue so far directly and off the road?”
mild-minded and gentle…[..]..
On their own family they set […]
but while god allotted [him] countless gifts,
he never forgot his own country
Hermas…..[this] marble copy
Of the best man Olympos.
I sing of him and the fame of his ancestors
Who once [at] the founding of Troizen
Made the city noble and revered in glory.
I myself stand showing this memory.
Causing pain to their enemies, but dear to their friends
By the vote…..of the people.
A man fresh from some handsome win
In a time of plenty,
Takes flight, hope-propelled,
On wings of manly accomplishment.
He’s intent on more than riches.
Men’s joy swells fast, and fast it falls to earth
Disturbed by an adverse pronouncement.
Beings for a day. What is anyone?
What is someone not? A shadow’s dreaming,
That’s man. Yet, when the light of Zeus issues,
Men shine radiant and life is kind.
If mortals’ noble mind previously found anything in an art
I claim that you have gazed upon everything in your polished thoughts,
Evaluating the wise judgment of doctors and selecting
The best from books with your soul’s eye,
Then you, Argaios have offered the rejuvenating delight
Of Bacchus’ wine that wards off limb-breaking labors.
Thanks to these things, the lovely glory of your craft will never die,
And will become brighter than the stars in the sky.”
IG I³ 1179, c. 432 BCE, Dedicatory Inscription in the Athenian Agora
These Athenians died at Poteidaia
Immortal me de[ath…
To indicate excellence…..
Along with the strength of their ancestor…..
When they died they earned as a monument victory in war.
The sky welcomed their souls, while their bodies took this land.
And they perished around the gates of Poteidaia.
Some of their enemies have a tomb as their share, but those who fled
Made their wall the most trusted hope for their lives.
The city and the people of Erekhtheus long for those
Who died among the front lines at Poteidaia,
These children of the Athenians–they set their lives on the balance,
Earned their excellence, and brought glory to their country.”
Milet VI,2 732 [= GVI I (1955) 33] Dedicatory Inscription in Miletus for those fallen in battle against Megara
This is a monument of those who died–it confers excellence upon them
Those who died brought glory to their country.
A monument is yoked with deeds throughout Greece
And an eternal memory lives on for those who have died.
I claim and I will continue to claim
that excellence receives the greatest glory.
Wealth tends to join up
With even worthless people–
It longs to puff up a man’s thoughts,
But someone who treats the gods well
Inflates their heart with a hope for greater glory–
Even though mortal, they earn health and
Can live from their own means and
Compete among the foremost.
Pleasure joins every human life
Once the helplessness of poverty and disease
Is removed.
Rich people desire equal
In proportion to their wealth,
And the poor want less–
Yet there’s nothing sweet
When mortals can get everything.
We always try to take
Whatever escapes us.”
“I claim and I will always claim
That excellence has the greatest glory.
Wealth will flock to worthless people
And always tends to swell a person’s thoughts.
But the one who does well for the gods
Has more glorious hopes
To settle their heart.
But if someone has health
Even if mortal
And can live through their own household
They rival the best.
Truly, all pleasure
In a person’s life
Comes apart from disease
And a poverty with no cure.
Rich people desire big things
No less than the poor something smaller,
And there’s nothing sweet for mortals
In being able to get everything at all
Because they’re always straining to catch
Whatever is getting away.”
“But now an evil death is indeed near me, not far off
And unavoidable. Truly, my life was once dear to Zeus’s heart
And Zeus’ son the far-shooter, those two who previously
Used to defend me. But now fate has overtaken me in its turn.
May I not die without a struggle, at least, and without glory,
But after doing something important for people in the future to learn”
“…They will heap up a mound [sêma] on the broad Hellespont
And someone of the men who are born in the future may say
As he says over the wine-faced sea in his many-benched ship:
This is the marker [sêma] of a man who died long ago,
A man whom shining Hektor killed when he was at his best”
So someone someday will say. And my glory will never perish”
“After heaping up the mound [sêma] they returned. Then
Once they were well gathered they shared a fine feast
In the halls of the god-nourished king, Priam.
Thus they were completing the burial of horse-taming Hektor.”
“They quickly placed the bones in an empty trench and then
They covered it with great, well-fitted stones.
They rushed to heap up a marker [sêma], around which they set guards
In case the well-greaved Achaeans should attack too soon.”
“Don’t leave me unmourned, unburied when you turn around
And go back—so that I might not be a reason for the gods to rage—
But burn me with my weapons and everything which is mind
Then build a mound [sêma] for me on the shore of the grey sea,
For a pitiful man, and for those to come to learn of me.
Finish these things for me and then affix an oar onto my tomb,
The one I was rowing with when I was alive and with my companions”
I will speak to you an obvious sign [sêma] and it will not escape you.
Whenever some other traveler meets you and asks
Why you have a winnowing fan on your fine shoulder,
At that very point drive the well-shaped oar into the ground
