οὐχὶ συγκατακεκύλισται τῷ βάρει τῆς πέτρας ἡ τῶν ὀνομάτων
σύνθεσις, μᾶλλον δὲ ἔφθακε τὴν τοῦ λίθου φορὰν τὸ
τῆς ἀπαγγελίας τάχος; ἔμοιγε δοκεῖ. καὶ τίς ἐνταῦθα πάλιν
αἰτία; καὶ γὰρ ταύτην ἄξιον ἰδεῖν· ὁ τὴν καταφορὰν δηλῶν
τοῦ πέτρου στίχος μονοσύλλαβον μὲν οὐδεμίαν, δισυλλάβους 20
δὲ δύο μόνας ἔχει λέξεις. τοῦτ’ οὖν καὶ πρῶτον οὐ διίστησι
τοὺς χρόνους ἀλλ’ ἐπιταχύνει· ἔπειθ’ ἑπτακαίδεκα συλλαβῶν
οὐσῶν ἐν τῷ στίχῳ δέκα μέν εἰσι βραχεῖαι συλλαβαί, ἑπτὰ
δὲ μακραί, οὐδ’ αὗται τέλειοι· ἀνάγκη δὴ κατασπᾶσθαι καὶ
of rough letters indicate the pauses in his efforts, the delays, the vastness of the toil. The rhythms, when it is observed how long-drawn-out they are, betoken the straining of his limbs, the struggle of the man as he rolls his burden, and the upheaving of the stone. And that this is not the work of Nature improvising, but of art attempting to reproduce a scene, is proved by the words that follow these. For the poet has represented the return of the rock from the summit and its rolling downward in quite another fashion; he quickens and abbreviates his composition. Having first said, in the same form as the foregoing,
but a little more,
And atop of the ridge would it rest[171]—
he adds to this,
some Power back turned it again:
Rushing the pitiless boulder went rolling adown to the plain.[172]
Do not the words thus arranged roll downhill together with the impetus of the rock? Indeed, does not the speed of the narration outstrip the rush of the stone? I certainly think so. And what is the reason here again? It is worth noticing. The line which described the downrush of the stone has no monosyllabic words, and only two disyllabic. Now this, in the first place, does not break up the phrases but hurries them on. In the second place, of the seventeen syllables in the line ten are short, seven long, and not even these seven are perfect. So
1 καὶ τὰς ἐποχὰς EF: ἐποχάς τε PMV 6 τὴν ... ἐπιστρέφουσαν ... κατακυλιομένην πέτραν EF: τὸν ... ἐπιστρέφοντα ... κατακυλιόμενον πέτρον PMV 13 τοῦτο EFM1: τούτω PM2V 14 ἐπιστρέψασ κε P, E: ἐπιστέψασ (ρ suprascr.) καὶ F, MV: ἀποστρέψασκε Hom. || κραταὶ· ἲσ P: κραταις F: κραταιὴ ἴς MV 15 αὖθις PMV 16 συγκατακεκύλισται PMV: συγκυλίεται EF 18 ἐμοί τε PM: ἐμοὶ F 19 ταύτην PMV: ταύτης F || ἄξιον ἰδεῖν PV: ἰδεῖν ἄξιόν ἐστιν F 21 οὖν καὶ F(E): οὐκ ἐᾶι P, MV || οὐ διίστησι E: οὐδ’ ἵστησι F: διεστηκέναι PMV 24 δὲ F: δὲ μόναι PMV || οὐδ’ F: καὶ οὐδ’ PMV || αὗται F: αὐταὶ PMV || τέλειοι FPV: τέλειαι M || δὴ F: οὖν PMV || κατασπᾶσθαι F: κατεσπάσθαι PM: κατεσπᾶσθαι V
15. “Downward anon to the valley rebounded the boulder remorseless” (Sandys, in Jebb’s Rhetoric of Aristotle p. 172). Voss marks the contrast between the slow and the rapid line by translating the one by “Eines Marmors Schwere mit grosser Gewalt fortheben,” and the other by “Hurtig mit Donnergepolter entrollte der tückische Marmor.”—For similar adaptations of sound to sense cp. Lucret. iii. 1000 “hoc est adverso nixantem trudere monte | saxum quod tamen e summo iam vertice rursum | volvitur et plani raptim petit aequora campi”; Virg. Aen. vi. 616 “saxum ingens volvunt alii, radiisque rotarum | districti pendent”; id. ib. viii. 596 “quadripedante putrem sonitu quatit ungula campum” (in imitation of Il. xxiii. 116); id. ib. v. 481 “sternitur exanimisque tremens procumbit humi bos”; id. ib. ii. 304-8 “in segetem ... de vertice pastor”; Racine Phèdre v. 6 “L’essieu crie et se rompt: l’intrépide Hippolyte | Voit voler en éclats tout son char fracassé; | Dans les rênes lui-même il tombe embarrassé”; Pope’s “Up a high hill he heaves a huge round stone” (Odyss. xi.) or his “That like a wounded snake drags its slow length along” (Essay on Criticism), as compared with his “Thunders impetuous down, and smokes along the ground” (Odyss. xi.).—It is an interesting question whether Dionysius overstates his case when he makes ‘Homer’ as conscious and sedulous an artist (ἀεί τι καινουργῶν καὶ φιλοτεχνῶν, [200] 18) as any later imitator. It is, however, unlikely that even the earliest poets who were late enough to produce consummate music were insensible to the effect of the music they produced. But great poets in all ages have had their ear so attuned by long use and practice to the music of sounds as to choose the right letters, syllables, and words almost unconsciously.
19. ταύτην: Usener reads ταῦτ’ ἦν: but (1) ταύτην refers naturally to αἰτία; (2) with ἄξιον the verb is often omitted, e.g. [186] 19, [202] 2; (3) if there were a verb, ἐστίν would here be more natural than ἦν.