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attractive until the appearance of an asterisk rendered the case for Sappho unlikely (de Kreij 2022). And lastly, a recent analysis of P.Oxy. 32.2624 suggests that at least some of its 56 fragments derive from a fifth-century work of choral lyric in dactylo-epitrite, more likely to have been composed by Simonides than Pindar (Ucciardello 2017).

      Figure 7.16 P.Oxy. 22.2321, fr. 1 (= Anacreon fr. 346), with accents. (Courtesy of The Egypt Exploration Society and the University of Oxford Imaging Papyri Project.)

      In truth, part of what makes the study of lyric papyri so exciting is that expectations are regularly defied: because so little survives, new data are almost inevitably surprising. The publication of the “new” Archilochus elegy on Telephus (= P.Oxy. 69.4708) in 2005 was revolutionary because of that poem’s mythological narrative, something not previously found in early elegy; that of the “new” Simonides elegy on Plataea (= P.Oxy. 22.2327 + 59.3965) in 1992, similarly, bore witness to the possibility of elegy on the subject of recent history. But these are relatively tame compared to cases such as P.Dryton 50 (see Morrison, this volume), an extensive lyrical monologue from the Hellenistic period (also known as the fragmentum Grenfellianum). Its frequently prosaic language, for one thing, is at odds with its metrical complexity: the lyrics are of a polymetric and non-strophic type characteristic of late Classical “New Music” (LeVen, this volume). They are also rife with dochmiacs, a colon (= metrical unit) whose extensive use had previously been thought peculiar to the lyrics of Classical tragedy and which appears for the last time in this fragment. It remains a work largely without parallel, though the presence of a loan dating to 174 BC on the papyrus’ obverse is consistent with the hypothesis that it is a Hellenistic composition.

As with that of dialect, the analysis of meter can be daunting, technical work (Battezzato 2009; D’Angour, this volume). For papyri, the matter is complicated not only by the fragmentary state of most texts but also by the fact that, prior to the second century BC, lyric poetry was transcribed as prose, i.e., without any indication of metrical division. The aforementioned Sappho ostracon (PSI 13.1300, III/II BC, Figure 7.6), P.Dryton 50 (circa 174 BC), and the Berlin fragment of Timotheus (P.Berol. inv. 9875, IV BC, Figure 7.17) are all examples of early texts of lyric that lack a meaningful colometry: such papyri place the onus of metrical analysis squarely on their editors. In the first case, the result is the familiar Sapphic stanza, but the latter two poems, by contrast, are vastly more complicated for their polymetry, with an array of cola to identify and distinguish. Luckily, such a layout is the exception rather than the rule: the division of lyric into cola is often ascribed to the scholar Aristophanes of Byzantium (circa 255–180 BC), and from the second century BC on, poetry divided colometrically into stanzas and triads is the norm (Barbantani 2009: 301).

      Figure 7.17 P. Berol. inv. 9875 (= Timotheus fr. 791). (bpk Bildagentur / Aegyptisches Museum und Papyrussammlung, Staatliche Museen, Berlin, Germany / Photo: Sandra Steiß / Art Resource, NY.)

      Papyrological Ethics

      Some readers may be surprised to find a section devoted to ethics in a chapter like this, which aims principally to demystify the papyrology of Greek lyric. But some background in the history of both papyrology and papyrological research is no less important than an understanding of the technical aspects of the field. Indeed, it is precisely because ethical issues are not aired frequently enough that their discussion here is essential.

      A historical example will help set the stage: in mid-November 1896, E.A. Wallis Budge, Keeper in the British Museum’s Department of Egyptian and Assyrian Antiquities, began to transact the purchase of a papyrus roll from an Egyptian dealer with whom he denied a previous relationship, but who was probably Ali Farag of Giza (Sayce 1923: 334). Budge was no specialist in Greek, but knew enough to recognize that the text was early and literary, that he needed to procure it for the Museum, and that it would be eagerly sought by other European collectors as well as by the Egyptian Antiquities Service, which would claim it for the Egyptian Museum. His account of the acquisition (1920 ii: 345–355) is fascinating: with pressure being applied by officials in the Antiquities Service as well as by the British Consul-General in Egypt, Budge was forced to purchase the papyrus personally before eluding the authorities via an elaborate ruse involving a crate of oranges and a midnight rendezvous with a P&O mail steamer anchored near Suez. The papyrus (= P.Lond.Lit. 46; British Library Papyrus 733) was published the following year: it turned out to contain 39 columns of poetry by Bacchylides—a truly significant find (Figure 7.18).

      Figure 7.18 An excerpt from British Library Papyrus 733 (= Bacchylides). (Image by permission of the British Library, London, UK.)

      The clandestine export of the papyrus (and Budge’s candor in describing it) is shocking today, but it is both typical of him (Ismail 2011: e.g., xvii) and representative of his era, generally. In the late nineteenth century, a complex market for antiquities in Egypt operated in parallel with both formal archaeological excavations and the informal looting of ancient sites. A variety of players—private individuals and State representatives, both Egyptian and foreign—were active. In addition to the professional salesman with physical storefront, anyone who might have occasion to sell an antiquity in his possession qualified as a dealer. No less engaged in the market were consular officials of foreign governments, foreigners working in Egypt (including professional archaeologists), and even the Egyptian Antiquities Service, the State body which oversaw archaeological work and which would eventually be charged with regulating the market. The distinction between a licit and illicit acquisition is often, regrettably, somewhat blurry in this period.

Further lessons can be gleaned from the tale of Budge and Bacchylides. Compared to the Bacchylides papyrus, concerning which little contextual information is known beyond the dealer’s assertion that he found it in a tomb at Meir, we might compare the Berlin Timotheus papyrus (= P.Berol. inv. 9875, Figure 7.17), which was excavated at the Greek necropolis at Abusir by Ludwig Borchardt in 1902. Archaeological evidence indicates that the Timotheus papyrus was deposited at the site before the Ptolemaic period, at which point the Greek cemetery was not in use. The papyrus, curiously, was not found in one of the wooden sarcophagi from the Greek cemetery, but on the ground to the north of a sarcophagus from the period of the Egyptian Middle Kingdom, with which it is unlikely to have had anything other than an accidental relationship. Although it is tempting to posit a straightforwardly funereal context for the find, in other words, the history of its deposit is potentially far more complex (Hordern 2002: 62–65; cf. van Minnen 1997). The contrasting tales of the Bacchylides purchase and the excavation of the Timotheus papyrus emphasize the benefits of a richer contextual understanding, but there is also an important similarity between the two stories which underscores a crucial detail about the period, namely, the important role of foreigners, foreign money, and foreign museums. This is part of a larger trend dating back to the Napoleonic era, in which the cultural heritage of Egypt has been exported, looted, or despoiled by occupying or colonial powers.

      In the twenty-first century, the landscape has shifted somewhat. After relatively unsuccessful attempts to regulate its antiquities market via legislation in 1912 and 1951, Egyptian law has since 1983 effectively outlawed the domestic trade in antiquities and has established definitively that the State owns its archaeological heritage. Internationally, the UNESCO Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property came into effect on April 24, 1972, though individual countries have only gradually accepted or ratified its terms (see

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