Put Your Seatbelt on, This is an Epinician Poem

Pindar, Pythian 10.46-50

“Nothing unbelievable surprises me,
provided the gods make it happen.

Keep your oar still–quickly drive the anchor
into the earth from the prow,
A weapon against the uneven jetty:

The finest hymns of praise
Rush from one story to another
Like a bee.”

ἐμοὶ δὲ θαυμάσαι
θεῶν τελεσάντων οὐδέν ποτε φαίνεται
ἔμμεν ἄπιστον.
κώπαν σχάσον, ταχὺ δ᾿ ἄγκυραν ἔρεισον χθονί
πρῴραθε, χοιράδος ἄλκαρ πέτρας.
ἐγκωμίων γὰρ ἄωτος ὕμνων
ἐπ᾿ ἄλλοτ᾿ ἄλλον ὥτε μέλισσα θύνει λόγον.

GIF of a roller coaster

A Short Path To Wisdom

Pindar, Pythian 4.246-248

“The path for me to walk is long, since
The hour narrows–but I know a shortcut.
I lead many others to wisdom.”

μακρά μοι νεῖσθαι κατ᾿ ἀμαξιτόν· ὥρα
γὰρ συνάπτει· καί τινα
οἶμον ἴσαμι βραχύν· πολ-
λοῖσι δ᾿ ἄγημαι σοφίας ἑτέροις.

Schol. ad Pin. Pyth 4 var.

“Along the wagon-path: [this means] to travel and speak along that path of the praising of Jason.”

κατ’ ἀμαξιτόν: κατὰ τὴν ὁδὸν ταύτην τὴν τῶν ἐγκωμίων τοῦ ᾿Ιάσονος πορεύεσθαι καὶ λέγειν.

“The hour is narrowing”: the right time is urging me to recount this to Arkesliaos.

ὥρα γὰρ συνάπτει: καιρός με ἐπείγει, ὥστε πρὸς τὸν ᾿Αρκεσίλαον ἀναδραμεῖν.

“I know some way”: this means I know some short path, which means that I also know how to speak this explanation briefly.”

καί τινα οἶμον ἴσαμι: καί τινα οἶδα ὁδὸν βραχεῖαν, τουτέστιν οἶδα κατὰ τὰς ἐξηγήσεις καὶ βραχέα λέγειν.

“Wisdom to others”: This is about that wisdom from earlier, speaking concisely, and becoming and exemplar to others, which means a teacher. What he’s saying is I am showing many others about concision, how to explain things concisely.”

σοφίας ἑτέροις: ἤτοι ταύτης τῆς σοφίας, τῆς περὶ τὸ συντόμως λέγειν, καὶ ἄλλων γέγονα καθηγητὴς, ὅ ἐστι διδάσκαλος· ἢ πολλοῖς προσέσχον ἄλλοις, ὡς ἐν συντομίᾳ, ὥστε ταχέως αὐτὰ ἐξειπεῖν.

Color photograph of museum display with a horse and wheeled wagon made out of clay.
Ancient Greek Vase Gallery, National Archaeological Museum of Greece, Athens, Greece.

Fox Temper Meet Hunting Wolf

Pindar, Pythian 2.77-89

“Slander merchants are an incurable headache for everyone–
They have tempers like foxes–
But what kind of profit does that cleverness produce?
It is just like when the rest of the equipment
Struggles in the the depth of the sea and I go
Floating untouched like a cork on the salty swell.

It’s impossible for a lying citizen to speak a strong word
Among good people–yet they’ll keep sucking up to everyone
To weave total ruin.
I don’t share his audacity! I want to love a friend
And be hateful to an enemy and
Run him to ground like a wolf does–

Creeping up on him by indirect paths.
Someone who speaks straight rises to the top
In any constitution–in a tyranny, when the mob rules or
When wise people oversee the state.
You shouldn’t fight with a god.”

ἄμαχον κακὸν ἀμφοτέροις διαβολιᾶν ὑποφάτιες,
ὀργαῖς ἀτενὲς ἀλωπέκων ἴκελοι.
κέρδει δὲ τί μάλα τοῦτο κερδαλέον τελέθει;
ἅτε γὰρ ἐννάλιον πόνον ἐχοίσας βαθύν
σκευᾶς ἑτέρας, ἀβάπτιστος εἶμι φελ-
λὸς ὣς ὑπὲρ ἕρκος ἅλμας.
ἀδύνατα δ᾿ ἔπος ἐκβαλεῖν κραταιὸν ἐν ἀγαθοῖς
δόλιον ἀστόν· ὅμως μὰν σαίνων ποτὶ πάντας ἄ-
ταν πάγχυ διαπλέκει.
οὔ οἱ μετέχω θράσεος. φίλον εἴη φιλεῖν·
ποτὶ δ᾿ ἐχθρὸν ἅτ᾿ ἐχθρὸς ἐὼν λύκοιο
δίκαν ὑποθεύσομαι,

ἄλλ᾿ ἄλλοτε πατέων ὁδοῖς σκολιαῖς.
ἐν πάντα δὲ νόμον εὐθύγλωσσος ἀνὴρ προφέρει,
παρὰ τυραννίδι, χὠπόταν ὁ λάβρος στρατός,
χὤταν πόλιν οἱ σοφοὶ τηρέωντι. χρὴ
δὲ πρὸς θεὸν οὐκ ἐρίζειν

Photograph of the inside of a red figure vase. A large headed figure sits and talks to a fox, who is gesticulating
Red Figure Vase c. 460 BCE Vatican Museum

No Bull, Just Zeus

Anacreonta 54

“Child, this bull
Looks a bit like Zeus to me.
Since he is carrying on his back
A Sidonian lady.

He is crossing the broad sea!
He carves the waves with his feet!

No other bull could
Separate himself from the herd and
Sail across the sea except
this bull alone.”

ὁ ταῦρος οὗτος, ὦ παῖ,
δοκεῖ τις εἶναί μοι Ζεύς·
φέρει γὰρ ἀμφὶ νώτοις
Σιδωνίαν γυναῖκα·
περᾷ δὲ πόντον εὐρύν,
τέμνει δὲ κῦμα χηλαῖς.
οὐκ ἂν δὲ ταῦρος ἄλλος
ἐξ ἀγέλης λιασθεὶς
ἔπλευσε τὴν θάλασσαν,
εἰ μὴ μόνος ἐκεῖνος.

Segment of a fresco (wall painting). Woman, half-clothed, sits on bull while friends calm him. The bull looks suspicious.
Wall painting from pompeii, Europa already sitting on the back of the bull (Zeus)

Attacked by a Baby in a Dream

Anacreonta 33

“Once, in the middle of the night,
At that time when the bear
Is already turning round the Plowman’s hand,
And all mortal peoples lie
Overcome by exhaustion,
Love stationed himself outside
The bolts of my doors and was knocking.

I said, “who’s knocking at my door?
You’ve broken up my dreams!”
And Love said, “Open up!
I am just a baby, don’t be afraid.
I am getting damp as I wander
Through this moonless night.”

I felt pity when I heard this
And immediately grabbed my lamp.
I opened the door and saw
Baby there, wearing a quiver
With arrows and a bow.
I sat him down near my hearth
And I warmed his hands with mine
And pressed the gold water from his hair.

Once he shrugged off his shivers,
He said, “Come on, let’s try this bow,
Whether its string has been ruined from getting wet.

He drew and shot true,
In the middle of my heart, like a mosquito.
He jumped up and laughed out with a smile,
“Friend, celebrate with me!
My bow is unharmed,
Although your heart will hurt for a while!

μεσονυκτίοις ποτ᾿ ὥραις,
στρέφετ᾿ ἡνίκ᾿ Ἄρκτος ἤδη
κατὰ χεῖρα τὴν Βοώτου,
μερόπων δὲ φῦλα πάντα
κέαται κόπῳ δαμέντα,
τότ᾿ Ἔρως ἐπισταθείς μευ
θυρέων ἔκοπτ᾿ ὀχῆας.

῾τίς᾿ ἔφην ῾θύρας ἀράσσει
κατά μευ σχίσας ὀνείρους;’
ὁ δ᾿ Ἔρως ῾ἄνοιγε’ φησίν·
῾βρέφος εἰμί, μὴ φόβησαι·
βρέχομαι δὲ κἀσέληνον
κατὰ νύκτα πεπλάνημαι.’
ἐλέησα ταῦτ᾿ ἀκούσας,

ἀνὰ δ᾿ εὐθὺ λύχνον ἅψας
ἀνέῳξα καὶ βρέφος μὲν
ἐσορῶ φέροντα τόξον
πτέρυγάς τε καὶ φαρέτρην·
παρὰ δ᾿ ἱστίην καθίξας

παλάμαισι χεῖρας αὐτοῦ
ἀνέθαλπον, ἐκ δὲ χαίτης
ἀπέθλιβον ὑγρὸν ὕδωρ.
ὁ δ᾿, ἐπεὶ κρύος μεθῆκε,
῾φέρε᾿ φησί ῾πειράσωμεν
τόδε τόξον, εἴ τι μοι νῦν
βλάβεται βραχεῖσα νευρή.’

τανύει δὲ καί με τύπτει
μέσον ἧπαρ, ὥσπερ οἶστρος.
ἀνὰ δ᾿ ἅλλεται καχάζων·
῾ξένε᾿ δ᾿ εἶπε ῾συγχάρηθι·
κέρας ἀβλαβὲς μὲν ἡμῖν,
σὺ δὲ καρδίαν πονήσεις.’

Black-and-white photo of a marble baby cupid with wings and a bow
Duquesnoy Cupid prewar photo

Homer’s Lyre and the Lyric Muse

Anacreonta 2

“Give me Homer’s lyre
Without its bloody strings–
Hand me cups of laws
mixed with rules for things.

That way, I will dance when I’m drunk
wisely out of my mind,
I will sing to the fingers playing
And shout the songs for drinking
Just give me Homer’s lyre
Without its bloody strings.”

δότε μοι λύρην Ὁμήρου
φονίης ἄνευθε χορδῆς,
φέρε μοι κύπελλα θεσμῶν,
φέρε μοι νόμους κεράσσας,

μεθύων ὅπως χορεύσω,
ὑπὸ σώφρονος δὲ λύσσης
μετὰ βαρβίτων ἀείδων
τὸ παροίνιον βοήσω.
δότε μοι λύρην Ὁμήρου
φονίης ἄνευθε χορδῆς.

Anacreonta 3

“Come here, best of painters
Listen to the Lyric muse!
Paint cities first
Happy ones, laughing ones,
And Bacchantes at play,
Breathing into their double pipes.
Then if the wax can manage,
Trace out the lovers’ ways.”

ἄγε, ζωγράφων ἄριστε,
λυρικῆς ἄκουε Μούσης·
γράφε τὰς πόλεις τὸ πρῶτον
ἱλαράς τε καὶ γελώσας,
φιλοπαίγμονάς τε Βάκχας
†ἑτεροπνόους ἐναύλους·†
ὁ δὲ κηρὸς ἂν δύναιτο,
γράφε καὶ νόμους φιλούντων.

Peter Paul Reubens “Minerva protects Pax from Mars” 1629/30

One Love, Two Bodies

Greek Anthology, 5.88 (Rufinus): The Fire of Unrequited Love

“Fire-bearing love, if you haven’t the strength to light two equally afire
Either extinguish it or share the flame burning in only one.”

Εἰ δυσὶν οὐκ ἴσχυσας ἴσην φλόγα, πυρφόρε, καῦσαι,
τὴν ἑνὶ καιομένην ἢ σβέσον ἢ μετάθες.

Diogenes Laertius, Aristotle 5.21

When [Aristotle] was asked what a friend is, he replied “one soul occupying two bodies.”

ἐρωτηθεὶς τί ἐστι φίλος, ἔφη, “μία ψυχὴ δύο σώμασιν ἐνοικοῦσα.”

Catullus, 87

“No woman can claim that she has been loved as much
Truly, as my Lesbia has been loved by me.
No promise has ever been made in as much faith
As can be found on my part in loving you.”

Nulla potest mulier tantum se dicere amatam
vere, quantum a me Lesbia amata mea est.
nulla fides ullo fuit umquam foedere tanta,
quanta in amore tuo ex parte reperta mea est.

Image result for medieval manuscript love
from here

Ibykos’ Cranes and A Lyric Version of the Trojan War

Suda, I. 80

“Ibykos: The son of Phutios, althought some claim he was the son of Poluzelos the Messenian historiographer, while others say his father was Kerdas, from Rhegion in origin. He left there for Samos when the father of Polycrates the tyrant ruled it. This was at the time of Kroisus’ rule, in the 54th Olmypiad [564-560 BCE] . He was really mad-crazy in desire for young men. He was also the one who inventor of the sambyke which was a kind of triangle-shaped cithara. There are seven books attributed to him in the Doric dialect.

After he was captured by brigands in a deserted area, he claimed that the cranes that were flying above them would be his avengers. He was killed. But later, one of the avengers saw some cranes in the city and said, “Behold, the avengers of Ibykos.” When someone heard this, and pursued what he said. He admitted what had happened and the brigands were punished. This is were the proverb comes from “Ibykos’ cranes.”

Ἴβυκος, Φυτίου, οἱ δὲ Πολυζήλου τοῦ Μεσσηνίου ἱστοριογράφου, οἱ δὲ Κέρδαντος· γένει Ῥηγῖνος. ἐνθένδε εἰς Σάμον ἦλθεν, ὅτε αὐτῆς ἦρχεν ὁ Πολυκράτους τοῦ τυράννου πατήρ. χρόνος δὲ οὗτος ὁ ἐπὶ Κροίσου, ὀλυμπιὰς νδ΄. γέγονε δὲ ἐρωτομανέστατος περὶ μειράκια, καὶ πρῶτος εὗρε τὴν καλουμένην σαμβύκην· εἶδος δέ ἐστι κιθάρας τριγώνου. ἔστι δὲ αὐτοῦ τὰ βιβλία ζ΄ τῇ Δωρίδι διαλέκτῳ. συλληφθεὶς δὲ ὑπὸ λῃστῶν ἐπὶ ἐρημίας ἔφη κἂν τὰς γεράνους, ἃς ἔτυχεν ὑπερίπτασθαι, ἐκδίκους γενέσθαι. καὶ αὐτὸς μὲν ἀνῃρέθη. μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα τῶν λῃστῶν εἷς ἐν τῇ πόλει θεασάμενος γεράνους ἔφη· ἴδε, αἱ Ἰβύκου ἔκδικοι. ἀκούσαντος δέ τινος καὶ ἐπεξελθόντος τῷ εἰρημένῳ, τό τε γεγονὸς ὡμολογήθη καὶ δίκας ἔδωκαν οἱ λῃσταί· ὡς ἐκ τούτου καὶ παροιμίαν γενέσθαι, αἱ Ἰβύκου γέρανοι.

Ibykos, fr. 282 (=fr. 1a) Oxyrhynchus papyrus (c. 130 b.c.); lines 1-32

They also destroyed the famous,
blessed, large city of Priam
after leaving from Argos
thanks to the plans of Zeus,
taking on the much-sung strife
for the beauty of fair Helen
in that mournful war;
Destruction climbed the ruined city
because of golden-haired Aphrodite.

Now, I don’t long to sing
of host-deceiving Paris
or tender-ankled Kassandra,
or the rest of the children of Priam
and the nameless day
of the sacking of high-gated Troy,
Nor yet the overreaching virtue
of heroes whom the hollow,
many-banched ships brought
as the destruction of Troy.

Fine heroes and Agememnon was their leader,
a king from Pleisthenes,
a son of Atreus, a noble father.

The learned Muses of Helicon
might take up these tales well;
but no mortal man, unblessed,
could number each of the ships
Menelaos led across the Aegean sea from Aulos,
from Argos they came, the bronze-speared sons of the Achaeans…”


οἳ κ]αὶ Δαρδανίδα Πριάμοιο μέ-
γ’ ἄσ]τυ περικλεὲς ὄλβιον ἠνάρον
῎Αργ]οθεν ὀρνυμένοι
Ζη]νὸς μεγάλοιο βουλαῖς
ξα]νθᾶς ῾Ελένας περὶ εἴδει
δῆ]ριν πολύυμνον ἔχ[ο]ντες
πό]λεμον κατὰ δακρ[υό]εντα,
Πέρ]γαμον δ’ ἀνέ[β]α ταλαπείριο[ν ἄ]τα
χρυ]σοέθειραν δ[ι]ὰ Κύπριδα.
νῦ]ν δέ μοι οὔτε ξειναπάταν Π[άρι]ν
..] ἐπιθύμιον οὔτε τανί[σφ]υρ[ον
ὑμ]νῆν Κασσάνδραν
Πρι]άμοιό τε παίδας ἄλλου[ς
Τρο]ίας θ’ ὑψιπύλοιο ἁλώσι[μο]ν
ἆμ]αρ ἀνώνυμον· οὐδεπ̣[
ἡρ]ώων ἀρετὰν
ὑπ]εράφανον οὕς τε κοίλα[ι
νᾶες] πολυγόμφοι ἐλεύσα[ν
Τροί]αι κακόν, ἥρωας ἐσ̣θ̣[λούς·

τῶν] μὲν κρείων ᾿Αγαμέ[μνων
ἆ]ρχε Πλεισθ[ενί]δας βασιλ[εὺ]ς ἀγὸς ἀνδρῶν
᾿Ατρέος ἐσ[θλοῦ] πάις ἐκ π̣[ατρό]ς·
καὶ τὰ μὲ[ν ἂν] Μοίσαι σεσοφ[ισμ]έναι
εὖ ῾Ελικωνίδ[ες] ἐμβαίεν λογ̣[ ·
θνατὸς δ’ οὔ κ[ε]ν ἀνὴρ
διερὸ[ς] τὰ ἕκαστα εἴποι
ναῶν ὡ[ς Μεν]έλαος ἀπ’ Αὐλίδος
Αἰγαῖον δ[ιὰ πό]ντον ἀπ’ ῎Αργεος
ἠλύθο̣[ν …..]ν
ἱπποτρόφο[ν …]ε φώτες
χ]αλκάσπ[ιδες υἷ]ες ᾿Αχα[ι]ῶν

Dulce et Decorum Est To Live to Drink Another Day

Herodotus, Histories 5.95

“When they were waging war and many different kinds of things were happening in the battles, then indeed among them when the Athenians were winning, the poet Alcaeus went running and fled, but the Athenians captured his armor and dedicated it in the temple of Athena at Sigeion. Alcaeus wrote a poem about this and sent it to Mytilene where he explained his suffering to his best friend Melanippos. Peirander, Kypselos’ son, made peace between the Athenians and Mytileneans after they entrusted the affair to his judgment. He resolved it so that each side would keep what they previously possessed.”

Πολεμεόντων δὲ σφέων παντοῖα καὶ ἄλλα ἐγένετο ἐν τῇσι μάχῃσι, ἐν δὲ δὴ καὶ Ἀλκαῖος ὁ ποιητὴς συμβολῆς γενομένης καὶ νικώντων Ἀθηναίων αὐτὸς μὲν φεύγων ἐκφεύγει, τὰ δέ οἱ ὅπλα ἴσχουσι Ἀθηναῖοι, καί σφεα ἀνεκρέμασαν πρὸς τὸ Ἀθήναιον τὸ ἐν Σιγείῳ. ταῦτα δὲ Ἀλκαῖος ἐν μέλεϊ ποιήσας ἐπιτιθεῖ ἐς Μυτιλήνην, ἐξαγγελλόμενος τὸ ἑωυτοῦ πάθος Μελανίππῳ ἀνδρὶ ἑταίρῳ. Μυτιληναίους δὲ καὶ Ἀθηναίους κατήλλαξε Περίανδρος ὁ Κυψέλου· τούτῳ γὰρ διαιτητῇ ἐπετράποντο· κατήλλαξε δὲ ὧδε, νέμεσθαι ἑκατέρους τὴν ἔχουσι.

Plutarch, On the Malice of Herodotus 858ab

“What does Herodotus say about what happened at [the battle between the Athenians and Mytileneans]? Instead of mentioning the excellence of Pittakos, he narrates the flight of the poet Alkaios from battle, how he dropped his weapons. By not describing great deeds and by not passing over the shameful ones, he has taken the side of those who claim that envy and joy at someone else’s misfortune comes from the same weakness.”

 τί οὖν ὁ Ἡρόδοτος, κατὰ τὸν τόπον γενόμενος τοῦτον; ἀντὶ τῆς Πιττακοῦ ἀριστείας τὴν Ἀλκαίου διηγήσατο τοῦ ποιητοῦ φυγὴν ἐκ τῆς μάχης, τὰ ὅπλα ῥίψαντος, τῷ τὰ μὲν χρηστὰ μὴ γράψαι τὰ δ᾿ αἰσχρὰ μὴ παραλιπεῖν μαρτυρήσας τοῖς ἀπὸ μιᾶς κακίας καὶ τὸν φθόνον φύεσθαι καὶ τὴν ἐπιχαιρεκακίαν λέγουσαι.

Alcaeus, Fr. 38A (P. Oxy. 1233 fr. 1 ii 8–20 + 2166(b)1)

“Drink and get drunk with me, Melanippos.
Why would you say that once you cross the great eddying
River of Acheron you will see the pure light of the sun again?
Come on, don’t hope for great things.

For even the son of Aiolos, Sisyphos used to claim
He was better than death because he knew the most of men.
Even though he was so very wise, he crossed
The eddying river Acheron twice thanks to fate
And Kronos’ son granted that he would have toil
Beneath the dark earth. So don’t hope for these things.

As long as we are young, now is the time we must
Endure whatever of these things the god soon grants us to suffer.”

πῶνε [καὶ μέθυ᾿ ὦ] Μελάνιππ᾿ ἄμ᾿ ἔμοι· τί [φαῖς †
ὄταμε[. . . .]διννάεντ᾿ † Ἀχέροντα μέγ[αν πόρον
ζάβαι[ς ἀ]ελίω κόθαρον φάος [ἄψερον
ὄψεσθ᾿; ἀλλ᾿ ἄγι μὴ μεγάλων ἐπ[ιβάλλεο·
καὶ γὰρ Σίσυφος Αἰολίδαις βασίλευς [ἔφα
ἄνδρων πλεῖστα νοησάμενος [θανάτω κρέτην·
ἀλλὰ καὶ πολύιδρις ἔων ὐπὰ κᾶρι [δὶς
δ̣ιννάεντ᾿ Ἀχέροντ᾿ ἐπέραισε, μ[έμηδε δ᾿ ὦν
αὔτῳ μόχθον ἔχην Κρονίδαις βα [σίλευς κάτω
ελαίνας χθόνος· ἀλλ᾿ ἄγι μὴ τά[δ᾿ ἐπέλπεο·
θᾶς] τ᾿ ἀβάσομεν αἴ ποτα κἄλλοτα ν [ῦν χρέων
φέρ]ην ὄττινα τῶνδε πάθην τά[χα δῷ θέος.

Image result for medieval manuscript acheron
Dante Being rowed across Acheron, 5th c, Yates Thompson MS 36, f. 6r. B.L.

Some of us can’t say this any more…

Glory and Worthless Wealth

Bacchylides, Odes 1. 159-172

“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.”

φαμὶ καὶ φάσω μέγιστον
κῦδος ἔχειν ἀρετάν· πλοῦ-
τος δὲ καὶ δειλοῖσιν ἀνθρώπων ὁμιλεῖ,
ἐθέλει δ᾿ αὔξειν φρένας ἀνδρός·
ὁ δ᾿ εὖ ἔρδων θεούς
ἐλπίδι κυδροτέραι
σαίνει κέαρ. εἰ δ᾿ ὑγιείας
θνατὸς ἐὼν ἔλαχεν
ζώειν τ᾿ ἀπ᾿ οἰκείων ἔχει,
πρώτοις ἐρίζει· παντί τοι
τέρψις ἀνθρώπων βίωι
ἕπεται νόσφιν γε νόσων
πενίας τ᾿ ἀμαχάνου.
ἶσον ὅ τ᾿ ἀφνεὸς ἱμείρει
μεγάλων ὅ τε μείων
παυροτέρων· τὸ δὲ πάντων
εὐμαρεῖν οὐδὲν γλυκύ
θνατοῖσιν, ἀλλ᾿ αἰεὶ τὰ φεύγοντα
δίζηνται κιχεῖν.

Raphaelle Peale, “Melons and Morning Glories” 1813