Death & Dying
Book VII, 417
Translated by W. R. Paton (1916–18) · From The Greek Anthology (Loeb, vol. II, 1917)
Island Tyre was my nurse, and Gadara, which is Attic, but lies in Syria, gave birth to me. From Eucrates I sprung, Meleager, who first by the help of the Muses ran abreast of the Graces of Menippus. If I am a Syrian, what wonder? Stranger, we dwell in one country, the world; one Chaos gave birth to all mortals. In my old age I wrote these lines in my tablets before my burial; for eld and death are near neighbours. Speak a word to wish me, the loquacious old man, well, and mayst thou reach a loquacious old age thyself.
This translation is printed as prose in its source edition.
Cite this poem
MLA
Gadara, Meleager of. “Book VII, 417.” Translated by W. R. Paton. Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/meleager/55/.
Chicago
Gadara, Meleager of. “Book VII, 417.” Translated by W. R. Paton. Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/meleager/55/.
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