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πάντας δ᾿ ἀκρεμόνας τε καὶ εὐθαλέας ὀροδάμνους κέκλασμαι, πυκιναῖς χερμάσι βαλλομένη. 5δένδρεσιν εὐκάρποις οὐδὲν πλέον· ἦ γὰρ ἔγωγε δυσδαίμων ἐς ἐμὴν ὕβριν ἐκαρποφόρουν.

4.—ΚΥΛΛΗΝΙΟΥ

Ἡ πάρος ἐν δρυμοῖσι νόθης ζείδωρος ὀπώρης ἀχράς, θηροβότου πρέμνον ἐρημοσύνης, ὀθνείοις ὄζοισι μετέμφυτος, ἥμερα θάλλω, οὐκ ἐμὸν ἡμετέροις κλωσὶ φέρουσα βάρος. 5πολλή σοι, φυτοεργέ, πόνου χάρις· εἵνεκα σεῖο ἀχρὰς ἐν εὐκάρποις δένδρεσιν ἐγγράφομαι.

5.—ΠΑΛΛΑΔΑ

Ὄχνη, χειρὸς ἐμῆς γλυκερὸς πόνος, ᾗ μὲν ἐφ᾿ ὑγρῷ φλοιῷ φύλλον ἔδησα θέρει· πτόρθος δ᾿ ἐπὶ δένδρῳ ῥιζωθεὶς δένδροιο τομῇ, καὶ καρπὸν ἀμείψας, νέρθε μὲν ἀχρὰς ἔτ᾿ ἔστιν, ὕπερθε δ᾿ ἄρ᾿ εὔπνοος ὄχνη.

6.—ΤΟΥ ΑΥΤΟΥ

Αχρὰς ἔην· θῆκας σέο χερσὶ μυρίπνοον ὄχνην, δένδρῳ πτόρθον ἐνείς· σὴν χάριν εἰς σὲ φέρω.

7.—ΙΟΥΛΙΟΥ ΠΟΛΥΑΙΝΟΥ

Εἰ καί σευ πολύφωνος ἀεὶ πίμπλησιν ἀκουὰς ἢ φόβος εὐχομένων, ἢ χάρις εὐξαμένων, Ζεῦ Σχερίης ἐφέπων ἱερὸν πέδον, ἀλλὰ καὶ ἡμέων κλῦθι, καὶ ἀψευδεῖ νεῦσον ὑποσχεσίῃ, 5ἤδη μοι ξενίης εἶναι πέρας, ἐν δέ με πάτρῃ ζώειν, τῶν δολιχῶν παυσάμενον καμάτων.

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Book IX

stones. And all my twigs and flourishing shoots are broken, hit as I am by showers of pebbles. It is no advantage for trees to be fruitful. I indeed, poor tree, bore fruit only for my own undoing.

4.—Cyllenius

I, the wild pear-tree of the thicket, a denizen of the wilderness where the wild beasts feed, once bearing plenty of bastard fruit, have had foreign shoots grafted on me, and flourish now no longer wild, but loaded with a crop that is not my natural one. Gardener, I am deeply grateful for thy pains, owing it to thee that I now am enrolled in the tribe of noble fruit-trees.

5.—Palladas

This pear-tree is the sweet result of the labour of my hand, with which in summer I fixed the graft in its moist bark. The slip, rooted on the tree by the incision, has changed its fruit, and though it is still a pyraster1 below, it is a fragrant-fruited pear-tree above.

6.—By the Same

I was a pyraster; thy hand hath made me a fragrant pear-tree by inserting a graft, and I reward thee for thy kindness.

7.—Julius Polyaenus

Zeus, who rulest the holy land of Corcyra, though thy ears be ever full of the fears of suppliants or the thanks of those whose prayers thou hast heard, yet hearken to me, too, and grant me by a true promise that this be the end of my exile, and that I may dwell in my native land, my long labours over.

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DOI: 10.4159/DLCL.greek_anthology_9.1917