Epigram 9.410

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Σμίνθος, ὁ παντοίης δαιτὸς λίχνος, οὐδὲ μυάγρης
δειλός, ὁ κἀκ θανάτου κέρδεα λῃζόμενος,
νευρολάλον Φοίβου χορδὴν θρίσεν ἡ δ᾽ ἐπὶ πῆχυν
ἑλκομένη θηρὸς λαιμὸν ἀπεβρόχισεν.

τόξων εὐστοχίην θαυμάζομεν ὃς δὲ κατ᾽ ἐχθρῶν
ἤδη καὶ κιθάρην εὔστοχον ὅπλον ἔχει.

— Paton edition

A mouse once, lickerish of every kind of food and
not even shy of the mouse-trap, but one who won
booty even from death, gnawed through Phoebus'
melodious lyre-string. The strained chord springing
up to the bridge of the lyre, throttled the mouse.
We wonder at the bow's good aim ; but Phoebus
uses his lyre, too, as a weapon wherewith to aim well
at his enemies.

— Paton edition

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