Epitaph of Eusthenes Poem by Theocritus
Epitaph of Eusthenes
Here the shrewd physiognomist Eusthenes lies,
Who could tell all your thoughts by a glance at your eyes.
A stranger, with strangers his honoured bones rest;
They valued sweet song, and he gave them his best.
All the honours of death doth the poet possess:
If a small one, they mourned for him nevertheless.
translated by C. S. Calverley
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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7/29/2026 6:02:20 AM # rel_20260727T173023Z_37e450e
