Onomacriti testimonia et fragmenta. Quaderni, 10

Onomacritus’ fragments and testimonia have until now been available in Kinkel ( Epicorum Graecorum fragmenta, I, Lipsiae 1877), Kern ( Orphicorum fragmenta, Berolini 1922), Colli ( La sapienza greca, II, Milano 1978) and finally Bernabé ( Poetae Epici Graeci, II/2, Monachi-Lipsiae 2005). No one, up until now, has ever had the idea of collecting Onomacritus’ remains in one autonomous edition. No wonder, since we are dealing with an ill-famed forger and interpolator: therefore, his fragments are unrecognizable by definition, and the ancient evidence about him is scarce, obscure and rarely reliable. However, the times are ripe for regarding archaic forgery as a particular kind of authorship in the context of a general tendency towards pseudepigraphy, double or multiple attributions, and the continuous readaptation of traditional material. So, if the forgery is only a peculiar form of what Foucault defined fonction-auteur,¹ Onomacritus too is somehow an author, if not an auctoritas. Consequently, Ettore D’Agostino can rightly dedicate his energy to Onomacritus as a leading figure of the late-archaic age. His volume provides a terse Introduction (pp. XI-XXXII); a large bibliography (pp. XXXIII-XLVII); a collection of Testimonia vitae atque artis (pp. 1-7), Operum fragmenta (pp. 9-13), and Testimonia dubia (pp. 15-17); finally, an Italian translation (pp. 23-29) and a wide commentary (pp. 31-113) of both testimonia and fragments.

In his Introduction, D’Agostino discusses the notorious problems of chronology, reconstructs the few ascertainable facts of Onomacritus’ life, and scrutinizes the ancient evidence about the titles of his poetic works (two in the Suda, Ὀρφέως τελεταί and Ὀρφέως χρησμοί, and one in the Stromata of Clement, which uses the vague circumlocution οἱ ἀναφερόμενοι εἰς Μουσαῖον χρησμοί). Above all, D’Agostino is interested in clarifying the widespread phenomenon of pseudepigraphy with regard to Orphica and Homerica.² He is firmly persuaded that Onomacritus was at the same time an editor-redactor used to the practice of ἐμποιεῖν, an original author and a μάντις. In particular, D’Agostino believes that Onomacritus distinguished himself among the four members of the group which worked, according to Tzetzes, at the Athenian edition of Homer; in the same political context, and with the same political protectors, he specialized in collecting, reworking and reciting ancient oracular utterances. In his argumentation, D’Agostino offers some remarkable examples of prudence and ars nesciendi. We cannot affirm for sure that Onomacritus worked under Peisistratus: only Hipparchus and the late Peisistratids of Hdt. VII 6,2-5 (= T 1) are expressly linked with him in the ancient evidence (p. XII). We cannot assume that Onomacritus was a member of some Attic clan, particularly of the Λυκομίδαι (so Böhme, in several publications), nor can we speculate about his political and diplomatic activity (pp. XVf.). The boundaries of his work on Homer (and perhaps on Hesiod) are uncertain, and we can neither isolate reliable examples of Onomacritean interpolations, nor establish any clear-cut distinction between interpolation, recreation and creation (pp. χ and passim). Finally, we cannot believe that a rhapsodic edition could break off the oral tradition and provide an unalterable canon for posterity (p. XXVI). So much caution deserves praise. In spite of this, D’Agostino sometimes seems inclined to accept as a matter of fact the ancient accounts about Onomacritus, and to consider some vague and often late claims as unquestionable proof for his reconstruction. A clear example of this attitude is the reliability attributed to Clement of Alexandria (about Onomacritus as a professional seer) and to Tzetzes (about the activity of the four Peisistratean editors of Homer: see below).

The collection of Testimonia vitae atque artis is more inclusive than those of Kinkel, Kern or Colli; but compared to Bernabé, D’Agostino only differs in the inclusion of the so-called Scholion Plautinum (= T 9d) among the testimonia alleged in Tzetzes’ account about the Peisistratean edition of Homer. However, in a separate section, D’Agostino adds two entirely new testimonia dubia : Aristot. Pol. II 12, 1274a 22-31, where the mysterious Onomacritus of Locri, quoted in a list of ancient lawgivers, is confidently identified with the Athenian one;³ and Thgn. 503-508, where the addressee of the elegy is an unspecified Onomacritus. D’Agostino is generous in the selection of the fragments as well: he comes back to the eight fragments collected by Kinkel (five only in Kern, six in Bernabé), including Hdt. VII 6 (= T 1), duplicated in two distinct fragments sine verbis (see below); and sine verbis, of course, are all the fragments with the exception of fr. 8 (= 8 Kinkel, T 190 Kern, B 8 Colli, 845a F + 1118 T Bernabé), i.e. the well-known addition about Heracles’ ghost in the Nekyia ( Od. XI 602-604), together with the relative scholia.

The most conspicuous section of the book is the large commentary devoted both to the testimonia and to the fragments. The treatment offered by D’Agostino is a concise essay (with footnotes) on the single text, more than a punctual commentary line by line; given also the scarcity (and the vagueness) of the evidence, one has to make a kind of cross-reading between the single treatments in order to obtain an overall view of the arguments offered by D’Agostino So, the sections of the commentary complete each other as the commentary in turn completes and clears up the Introduction (and sometimes vice versa). From this complex and somewhat intricate handling of the data the reader can draw a complete description of Onomacritus’ activity and works: too complete and detailed, perhaps, but full of sharp and stimulating observations. Some examples: the treatment that D’Agostino devotes to the relation between Arist. fr. 7a-b R. (= 26 and 27 G.), Phlp. In An. 186,24 (= T 5) and Cic. de nat. deor. I 38,107 (pp. 47-51) is very convincing; and D’Agostino expresses many balanced judgments in discussing the notices offered by Plutarch ( De Pyth. or. 25, 407b = T 8) or by the Suda (III 564 A. = T 4, respectively pp. 58-60 and 44-46).

It seems appropriate to make some critical remarks on other aspects of the commentary.

Pp. 34-36 (on Hdt. VII 6,2-5 = T 1): D’Agostino is utterly resolute in asserting that Onomacritus was an authentic seer, and not a mere editor, specialist or performer of ancient prophecies transmitted under the name of Musaeus or Orpheus. This is possible, but not well-grounded. Herodotus calls Onomacritus a χρησμολόγος. What is that? D’Agostino translates “divinatore” (p. 25; so Colli): a very rare and unusual latinism perhaps intended to preserve the polisemy of the original. “Si può escludere che il termine χρησμολόγος, nella pagina erodotea, fosse caricato di una sfumatura spregiativa”, writes D’Agostino (p. 35); and that can be accepted. But in three of the six Herodotean occurences of the word, it denotes a professional exegetes of ancient prophecies (VII 142,3; 143,1; 143, 3); in I 62,4 Amphilytos gives to Peisistratus the well-known prophecy about the net and the tunas: was it an authentic Amphilytos prophecy, or a traditional oracular utterance? Herodotus tells us only that Amphilytos expressed it ἐνθεάζων; in VIII 96,2 the prophecy pronounced by the χρησμολόγος Lysistratus is explicitly compared to those of Baucis and Musaeus, but Herodotus adds that his prediction had been forgotten by all the Greeks ( ἐλελήθεε πάντας τοὺς Ἕλληνας): evidently, the reason was the scant authority of Lysistratus (elsewhere unknown), who could have used or adapted a traditional oracular response (the same prophecy, in Str. IX 1,21, is attributed to Apollo⁴). Briefly, the Herodotean use of the term says nothing about the professional qualification of Onomacritus, and the only evidence about his status as seer remains the unreliable Clement (see below).

Pp. 36-40: Lasus of Hermione, Herodotus reports in the same passage, exposed a forgery by Onomacritus in the collection of Musaeus’ prophecies, and demonstrated that the prediction about the small islands near Lemnos—destined to disappear beneath the waves—was a fake. So our poor forger was banished by Hipparchus. D’Agostino has valid arguments in suspecting some political manoeuvre behind this strange philological querelle, and appropriately recalls the economic interests of the Peisistratids in the coasts of the Chersonesos and in the Black Sea area. Foreign policy apart, what can we think of the controversy between Lasus and Onomacritus? Why did Onomacritus insert in his collection such a dangerous prediction? How did Lasus succeed in exposing the forgery? D’Agostino offers no explanations (“credo sia uno sforzo vano cercare di determinare il procedimento che condusse Laso alla scoperta dell’inserimento”, p. 38), and seems to believe in the good faith of Onomacritus, who wrote a prophecy ad hoc for no particular reason (p. 38); besides, D’Agostino is persuaded that the Μουσαίου χρησμοί edited by Onomacritus gave rise to the first written tradition of the prophecies, though this fixation was neither definitive nor unchangeable (pp. 36f.). These assumptions, however, may generate some inconsistencies in the reconstruction of the events. If the prophecy was detrimental to the Peisistratean propaganda, why did Onomacritus insert it in his collection? Was it some kind of political betrayal? That was Hipparchus’ judgment according to D’Agostino (p. 39). But why did Onomacritus (or some other performer, acting on the order of the tyrants) not simply suppress the prophecy at the moment of his public performance, as he did at the court of Xerxes according to Herodotus ( εἰ μέν τι ἐνέοι σφάλμα φέρον τῷ βαρβάρῳ, τῶν μὲν ἔλεγε οὐδέν)? I see no more than three choices: either the insertion (and the performance) of the prophecy was a real betrayal, inspired by some enemies of Hipparchus (but why would Onomacritus be so reckless?); or the affair was the result of a conspiracy finalized to weed out Onomacritus⁵ (but why such complicated methods on the part of Hipparchus?); or, Onomacritus went wrong not by the creation of a new, lethal prophecy, but by the inclusion in his collection (and probably the public diffusion⁶) of a prophecy that appeared, perhaps afterwards, a boomerang. Was this prophecy a traditional one that was already circulating under the name of Musaeus? It could be, since all the data suggest that the incriminated prophecy was not under the direct control of Onomacritus, or at least not of Hipparchus, who otherwise could have prevented or interrupted its circulation. If so, we have to postulate some kind of canonization or (in Nagy’s terms) ‘textualization’ of prophetic utterances, independent from Onomacritus. And it cannot be excluded that Lasus based his accusation on some anterior or parallel tradition (no matter whether oral or written) of the same prophecies;⁷ perhaps, the only way to eliminate an awkward but well-known prediction was to find, and to eliminate, his supposed forger and Onomacritus was the best candidate. All this is merely hypothetical, of course; but it is difficult to avoid these or similar hypotheses, if Herodotus’ account is reliable; and all this is not without consequences for our reconstruction of Onomacritus’ activity (see below, about Homer).

Pp. 41f. (on Tatian. ad Graec. 41 = T 2): the well-known aim of the Christian apologist is to establish that Moses was earlier than any poet or wise man of Greece. In the text under discussion, Tatian writes that “Orpheus was a contemporary of Heracles; above all [ ἄλλως τε καὶ ], they say that the works attributed to him have been put together [or compiled, or arranged: συντετάχθαι ] by Onomacritus of Athens, who flourished during the reign of the Peisistratids, in the fiftieth Olympiad [= 580-577 BC, which involves a considerable chronological mistake: see D’Agostino, p. XI]”. The verb συντετάχθαι is very ambiguous: “elaborare”, translates D’Agostino (p. 25), who explains that “sembra esserci pieno accordo” between Tatian and Clement ( Strom. I 21,131 = T 3). Yet, the latter writes that “the poems attributed to Orpheus are said to be by Onomacritus”: a much stronger assertion. D’Agostino tries to demonstrate that the meaning of συντάσσομαι here is “to write”, “to compose”, because “se Taziano avesse considerato Onomacrito come ‘ordinatore’ avrebbe fallito nella propria argomentazione, perché non otterrebbe più il risultato di abbassare al VI secolo l’epoca di composizione delle opere di Orfeo” (p. 42 n. 8).⁸ But in order to demonstrate the priority of Moses, the contemporaneity of Orpheus and Heracles is more than enough (see 41,1, where the same argument is employed against Linus); Tatian is adding here a further argument (see ἄλλως τε καὶ): Orpheus’ works were the object of a later rearrangement by Onomacritus. From this point of view, the choice of a term like συντάσσομαι does not seem fortuitous; D’Agostino himself admits it (p. 42), even if he minimizes the fact. Consequently, Clement’s account is probably a mere exaggeration of that of Tatian, with which it shows many points of contact, beginning from the chronological mistake about Peisistratus and his sons.⁹ D’Agostino seems persuaded that Clement represents a source partially independent from Tatian and Herodotus (p. 41): this is possible, but not so likely.

P. 48 (on Phlp. In An. 186,24 = T 5): the mss. of Philoponus give the expression ἐν ἔπεσι κατατεῖναι. D’Agostino correctly refutes the emendation καταθεῖναι (Cudworth), but explains the verb as “imbrigliare” (p. 48, “to bridle”) and translates “costringere in versi” (p. 26, “to constrain”). Rather, “to stretch”, “to extend” (as elsewhere in literary terminology and in Philoponus himself: see e.g. in APr 262,10), and therefore “to expand” the original Orpheus’ δόγματα (“furono tradotte estesamente in versi epici” Colli). This is not a neutral description of Onomacritus’ rearrangement, and here a judgment about his forgeries seems to be implied.

Pp. 56f. (on Clem. Al. Strom. I 21, 134, 2f. St. = T 7): Clement’s list of the most famous Greek seers is, according to D’Agostino, the crucial test for asserting that Onomacritus was a real μάντις. In the author’s words: “la notizia, pur nella sua concisione, riveste un ruolo determinante nella ricostruzione dell’attività di Onomacrito, in quanto conferma inequivocabilmente la sua specificità di divinatore” (p. 57, my italics). It is a pity that Clement quotes Onomacritus in a catalogue of mythic seers, placing side by side the Homeric Telemos ( Od. IX 509) and Amphiaraos, the tragic Polyidos and the legendary Iamos, and so on. I can see no other choice but to share Eichhof’s statement, quoted with disapproval by D’Agostino: “nec audiendus Clemens Alexandrinus, qui eum cum priscis, heroicae adeo aetatis vatibus confundit. De Onomacriti enim vaticiniis ipsius nomine nihil nobis compertum est”.¹⁰ D’Agostino is a more lenient judge.

Pp. 67f. (on Tz. Proll. Com., pp. 30, 140-150 and 33, 22-31 Koster = T 9a and 9b): D’Agostino devotes many pages to the constellation of unanimous (and interdependent) notices offered by Tzetzes, the Anonymus Crameri and the Scholium Plautinum. This is not the place to resume the never-ending discussion about the Peisistratean recensio of Homer; but it is surprising how easily such a crucial problem is set aside, with no more than eight lines (p. 67) asserting that there was “una tradizione antica e ben radicata, attestante il coinvolgimento di Pisistrato con i poemi omerici” (“vox totius antiquitatis”, wrote Wolf, and his exaggeration has been often condemned: see e.g. J.A. Scott, CPh 9, 1914, 397); the “ancient and deep-rooted tradition” is enough to allow D’Agostino to declare Onomacritus “editore rapsodico di Omero” (pp. XXIII-XXVII). This is, I think, an over-simplification that cannot be easily admitted. Furthermore, the fact that three of the four editors of Homer mentioned by Tzetzes (Orpheus of Croton, Zopyrus of Heraclea, Onomacritus; the last name is lost) appear to be connected whith Orphic or Pythagorean tradition suggests an ancient parallelism between Homer and Orpheus. This parallelism arouses further suspicions about the notice.¹¹ D’Agostino, however, finds this perfectly natural (p. XXVI: “sembra rilevante il fatto che l’assemblaggio fosse stato commissionato ad ἐποποιοί esperti di testi ‘sacri’, i soli degni di accostarsi al ‘sacro Omero'”).

P. 71 (on S.E. P. III 30 = M. IX 361 = F 1): D’Agostino is very confident in imagining (?) the exact subpartition of the work that he chooses to call (but only “per convenzione”, p. 71; see also pp. XVI and 78) Ὀρφέως τελεταί, on the ground of the title given by the Suda (= T 4). He thinks that the poem might have contained a “sezione cosmo-teogonica”, to which he assigns the notice offered by Sextus about the Orphic ἀρχαί, as that about the Charites offered by Paus. IX 35,5 (= F 2; see p. 73). All this is highly speculative.

P. 93 (on Paus. I 22,7 = F 5): the hypothesis of placing in the proem of the Μουσαίου χρησμοί the lines known to Pausanias — where Musaeus obtains from Boreas the gift of flying, i.e. a typical shamanic feat — is very suggestive. The proem had perhaps an autobiographical character, according to D’Agostino, who recalls the Ἀριμάσπεια ἔπε.¹² An autobiographical prologue, describing the initiation of the author in order to consecrate him as wielding unquestionable auctoritas, would not be surprising: why not quote Hesiod’s Theogony ? But we have to remember that the attribution of the lines to Onomacritus is a mere conjecture of Pausanias ( δοκεῖν δέ μοι πεποίηκεν αὐτὰ Ὀνομάκριτος), who perhaps was too suspicious about the crimes of our forger.

P. 95 (on Hdt. VII 6,2-5 = T 1 = F 6 + F 7): D’Agostino extracts two distinct fragments from the Herodotean account, without offering any further comment on this point. He attributes the first prediction (about the islands near Lemnos: see above) to the Μουσαίου χρησμοί, but isolates the second one (about the bridge of ships on the Hellespont) in an autonomous section of χρησμοί ( = F 7). The choice is unmotivated. Is this an attempt to ascribe to Onomacritus a personal prophecy, in order to confirm that he was a real, independent seer? In fact, at p. 40 D’Agostino writes that “Onomacrito suggerì al Gran Re l’espediente del ponte di navi per l’attraversamento dell’Ellesponto”: this is a curious overestimation of Onomacritus’ influence. Nothing in the Herodotean context justifies any distinction between the first and the second prophecy: they both emanate from the authority of Musaeus, as is evident from Herodotus’ words ( τὰ εὐτυχέστατα ἐκλεγόμενος ἔλεγε, τόν τε Ἑλλήσποντον ὡς ζευχθῆναι χρεὸν εἴη ὑπ’ ἀνδρὸς Πέρσεω).

Pp. 95-106 (on Od. XI 602-604): D’Agostino offers a complete discussion of the problems raised, from antiquity until now, by the amazing interpolation about Heracles’ apotheosis. He provides an accurate examination of the scholia and we can agree with his conclusion that all three lines must be included in an hypothetical insertion by Onomacritus (p. 104), who seems to have supported the Peisistratean propaganda about Heracles’ cults. But somehow eluded is the key question that we can express with the words of Cassio: “if a dead Heracles proved ’embarrassing’ in view of this new state of affairs, in theory the problem might easily have been solved by simply excising the whole episode; but it was impossible in practice, because the audience expected it. The awkward interpolation shows at the same time the need to assert the importance of the new cult and the impossibility to do away with a traditional and unalterable episode involving the dead Heracles”.¹³ Here we can recognize a problem not different from that posed by the Herodotean notice on Onomacritus’ oracular interpolations (see above): why was the episode not simply omitted, if Onomacritus or the Peisistratids had a real editorial control on the text? Why should he have produced such complicated rearrangements if the episode was not in some way traditional and canonical? Perhaps the answer is implicit in the hypothesis formulated by D’Agostino at pp. 105f.: Onomacritus intended not only to correct an embarrassing mention of Heracles’ death, but also to insert a magnification of Heracles’ apotheosis (“l’aggiunta aveva il fine specifico di propagandare la divinizzazione di Eracle”). From this point of view, perhaps, the traditional episode gave the only or the best occasion for inserting such a celebration. However, the impression remains that this awkward and tortuous correction is not easy to explain in the context of a systematic editorial operation like that imagined by Tzetzes and accepted by D’Agostino.¹⁴

Pp. 110f. (on Aristot. Pol. II 12,6-8, 1274a 22-31 = T dubium 1): D’Agostino is not the first to suppose that the mysterious Onomacritus of Locri mentioned by Aristoteles has to be identified with our Onomacritus of Athens; and the allusion to the τέχνη μαντικέ strengthens this supposition. D’Agostino is not the first, but the most convinced (in addition to the opinions discussed at pp. 107f. and 109f., see Bergk on Thgn. 503). Nevertheless, the expression Λοκρὸν ὄντα καὶ ἐπιδημοῦντα belongs to the unknown source of Aristoteles, and this detail (as all the rest) can only be an invention intended to create a link between the Sicilian lawgivers and their Greek colleagues. Perhaps this invention has some historical ground (a journey during the banishment from Athens? A generic relation with the Orphic circles of Sicily?). Everything is possible, but we know too many parochial appropriations of literary celebrities (from Tyrtaeus to Theognis) not to be suspicious.

Pp. 112f. (on Thgn. 503-508 = T dubium 2): the addressee of the pseudo-Theognidean elegy is an indeterminate Onomacritus. “I commentatori, all’unanimità”, says D’Agostino, “tendono ad escludere che il personaggio in questione possa identificarsi con il cresmologo attivo ad Atene” (p. 112; this is not entirely exact: see E. Harrison, Studies in Theognis, Cambridge 1902, 297-299 and Campbell, ad loc.). I see no evidence pro or contra his identification with Onomacritus of Athens. ” Ὀνομάκριτος è nome molto raro, in Attica come in tutto il resto del mondo greco”, writes D’Agostino (p. 113). The name is not so rare (three independent occurrences in Fraser-Matthews, two others collected by J.K. Davies: see D’Agostino, p. XIII n. 16). Of course, if we identify the Onomacritus of Aristoteles and that of Theognis with the Athenian one, the rarity of the name is assured, but this reasoning runs the risk of being circular. Here, as elsewhere, more prudence would be welcome.

To sum up, D’Agostino’s book offers a broad reexamination of the evidence, a well-informed outline of previous studies, and several penetrating observations on many points. Obviously, there are not a few controversial questions that invite dissent, and one happens to feel nostalgic for the skepticism of Linforth or West. This does not, however, compromise the usefulness of the book.

Notes

1. See M. Foucault, “Qu’est-ce qu’un auteur?” in Dits et écrits 1954-1988, I, Paris 1994, 789-821.

2. D’Agostino’s methodological background is clearly recognizable in the lines of inquiry that emerged from the very interesting book edited eight years ago by G. Cerri: Autori vari, La letteratura pseudepigrafa nella cultura greca e romana. Atti di un Incontro di studi (Napoli, 15-17 gennaio 1998), Napoli 2000.

3. The thesis is discussed in E. D’Agostino, “Onomacrito ateniese o locro?” AION(filol) 23, 2001, 27-39. “Dubium mihi videtur,” writes Bernabé (p. 528).

4. See also D. Asheri-P. Vannicelli in Erodoto, Le storie. Libro VIII. La vittoria di Temistocle, Milano 2003, 297f. for the transmitted φρίξουσι ( φρύξουσι Kuhn, edd.) and for the possibile rearrangement of a previous ill-omened response. On Lysistratus’ prophecy, with regard to the obscure sources of Herodotus, see e.g. L. Maurizio, “Delphic Oracles as Oral Performances: Authenticity and Historical Evidence”, ClassAnt 16/2, 1997, 308-334: 327f.

5. So e.g. G.A. Privitera, Laso di Ermione nella cultura ateniese e nella tradizione storiografica, Roma 1965, 48 n. 0: “difficilmente Ipparco avrebbe permesso lo scandalo e Laso l’avrebbe suscitato, se Onomacrito avesse ancora goduto il favore della corte. Dietro la sophia di Laso vi fu, probabilmente, una manovra della corte, decisa a sbarazzarsi dell’indovino”.

6. That Lasus’ accusation took place during a public performance is the opinion of G. Nagy ( Pindar’s Homer. The Lyric Possession of an Epic Past, Baltimore-London 1990, 172f.) and of S.R. Slings (“Literature in Athens, 566-510 BC,” in H. Sancisi-Weerdenburg [ed. by], Peisistratos and the Tyranny. A Reappraisal of the Evidence, Amsterdam 2004, 57-77: 71). This hypothesis cannot change the main points of the question.

7. This was the coherent hypothesis of K. Kerényi, “Die Münzen des Onomakritos,” in Mythos. Scripta in honorem Marii Untersteiner, Genova 1970, 171-178: 172.

8. So also M.-J. Lagrange, Les mystères: l’Orphisme, Paris 1937, 23 n. 4.

9. So I.M. Linforth, The Arts of Orpheus, Berkeley 1941, 351f. The situation is not different if Tatian and Clement depend on a common source (so Colli, ad l.).

10. C. Eichhoff, “De Onomacrito Atheniensi commentatio I,” Programm womit zu der öffentlichen Prüfung der Zöglinge des Gymnasiums zu Elberfeld, Elberfeld 1840, 3-16: 6.

11. See the observations of M.L. West, The Orphic Poems, Oxford 1983, 249-251.

12. Here D’Agostino develops the opinions of Giovanni Cerri about the narrative structure of Onomacritus’ poem: see G. Cerri, “L’Odissea epicorica di Itaca”, Mediterraneo antico 5, 2002, 149-184: 176.

13. A.C. Cassio, “Early Editions of Greek Epics and Homeric Textual Criticism in the Sixth and Fifth Centuries BC,” in Autori vari, Omero tremila anni dopo. Atti del Congresso di Genova, 6-8 luglio 2000, a c. di F. Montanari, Roma 2002, 105-136: 116 n. 52.

14. On the question see also A. Aloni, Da Pilo a Sigeo. Poemi cantori e scrivani al tempo dei Tiranni, Alessandria 2006, 20-22.