BABYLONIAN LITERARY TEXTS IN THE SCHO / YEN COLLECTION The publication of CORNELL UNIVERSITY STUDIES IN ASSYRIOLOGY AND SUMEROLOGY Volume 10 was made possible thanks to a generous subvention from an anonymous donor and from The Occasional Publication Fund Department of Near Eastern Studies Cornell University Cornell University Studies in Assyriology and Sumerology (CUSAS) Volume 10 MANUSCRIPTS IN THE SCHO / YEN COLLECTION CUNEIFORM TEXTS IV Babylonian Literary Texts in the Schøyen Collection by A. R. George CDL Press Bethesda, Maryland 2009 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication George, A.R. Babylonian literary texts in the Schøyen Collection / by A.R. George. p. cm. — (Cornell University studies in Assyriology and Sumerology; v. 10) ISBN 978-1934309-094 1. Akkadian language-—Texts. 2. Assyro-Babylonian literature--History and criticism. 3. Schøyen Collection. I. Title. II. Series. PJ3711.D349 2009 892'.1—dc22 2009016621 Cornell University Studies in Assyriology and Sumerology EDITOR-IN-CHIEF *** David I. Owen (Cornell University) ___ EDITORIAL COMMITTEE *** Robert K. Englund (University of California, Los Angeles) Wolfgang Heimpel (University of California, Berkeley) Rudolf H. Mayr (Lawrenceville, New Jersey) Manuel Molina (Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, Madrid) Francesco Pomponio (University of Messina) Walther Sallaberger (University of Munich) Marten Stol (Leiden) Karel Van Lerberghe (University of Leuven) Aage Westenholz (University of Copenhagen) Copyright 2009. All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, in any form (beyond that copying permitted in Sections 107 and 108 of the U.S. Copyright Law and except by reviewers for the public press), without written permission from the publisher, CDL Press, P.O. Box 34454, Bethesda, Md. 20827. Table of Contents Statement of Provenance (Ownership history), by Martin Schøyen ..................... vii Series Editor’s Preface, by David I. Owen ............................................................ ix Acknowledgments ..................................................................................... xi Abbreviations .................................................................................................... xiii Introduction ....................................................................................................... xv Catalogue ......................................................................................................... xvii Concordances ................................................................................................... xix A. Narrative Poetry 1. The Song of Bazi .................................................................................... 1 2. A Tablet of Atram-Óas‹s in Four Columns ............................................ 16 3. A Short Excerpt from Atram-Óas‹s ....................................................... 26 4. A Fragment of GilgameÍ ...................................................................... 28 5. GilgameÍ’s Journey to the Cedar Forest ............................................... 29 6. Fragments of GilgameÍ’s Journey to the Cedar Forest............................ 37 B. Praise Poetry 7. A Song in Praise of NingiÍzida............................................................. 42 C. Love Poetry and Related Compositions 8. Oh Girl, Whoopee! ............................................................................ 50 9. I Shall Be a Slave to You ...................................................................... 54 10. A Field Full of Salt ............................................................................... 60 11. May She Throw herself at Me! A Love Incantation .............................. 67 12. In the Light of the Window: Incipits of Love Songs and Other Poems? . 71 D. Prose 13. A Literary Prayer to IÍtar as Venus ........................................................ 76 14. The Scholars of Uruk ........................................................................... 78 15. A Literary Letter of Sin-muballiˇ ........................................................ 113 16. A Son’s Request.................................................................................. 121 17. The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk .................................................... 123 18. A Tablet of Legal Prescriptions .......................................................... 153 19. A Tablet of Riddles ............................................................................ 156 References ......................................................................................................... 157 Cuneiform Texts .............................................................................. Plates I–LXIII v Statement of Provenance (OWNERSHIP HISTORY) 14. Henderson Collection, Boston, Massachusetts (1930s–50s) 15. Pottesman Collection, London (1904–78) 16. Geuthner Collection, France (1960s–80s) 17. Harding Smith Collection, UK (1893– 1922) These collections are the source of almost all the tablets, seals, and incantation bowls. Other items were acquired through the auction houses Christie’s and Sotheby’s, where in some cases the names of their former owners were not revealed. The sources of the oldest collections, such as Amherst, Harding Smith, and Cumberland Clark, were antiquities dealers who acquired tablets in the Near East in the 1890s to 1930s. During this period many tens of thousands of tablets came on the market, in the summers of 1893 and 1894 alone some 30,000 tablets. While many of these were bought by museums, others were acquired by private collectors. Some of the older private collections were the source of some of the later collections. For instance, a large number of the tablets in the Crouse collection came from the Cumberland Clark, Kohanim, Amherst, and Simmonds collections, among others. The Claremont tablets came from the Schaeffer collection, and the Dring tablets came from the Harding Smith collection. In most cases the original findspots of tablets that came on the market in the 1890s to 1930s are unknown, like great parts of the holdings of most major museums in Europe and the United States. The general original archaeological context of the tablets and seals is the libraries and archives of numerous temples, palaces, schools, The holdings of pictographic and cuneiform tablets, seals, and incantation bowls in the Schøyen Collection were collected in the late 1980s and 1990s and derive from a great variety of collections and sources. It would not have been possible to collect so many items, of such major textual importance, if it had not been based on the endeavor of some of the greatest collectors in earlier times. Collections that once held tablets, seals, or incantation bowls now in the Schøyen Collection are: 1. Institute of Antiquity and Christianity, Claremont Graduate School, Claremont, California (1970–94) 2. Erlenmeyer Collection and Foundation, Basel (ca 1935–88) 3. Cumberland Clark Collection, Bournemouth, UK (1920s–1941) 4. Lord Amherst of Hackney, UK (1894– 1909) 5. Crouse Collection, Hong Kong and New England (1920s–80s) 6. Dring Collection, Surrey, UK (1911–90) 7. Rihani collection, Irbid and Amman, Jordan (before 1965–88) and London (1988–) 8. Lindgren Collection, San Francisco, California (1965–85) 9. Rosenthal Collection, San Francisco, California (1953–88) 10. Kevorkian Collection, New York (ca 1930–59) and Fund (1960–77) 11. Kohanim Collection, Tehran, Paris and London (1959–85) 12. Simmonds Collection, UK (1944–87) 13. Schaeffer Collection, Collège de France, Zürich (1950s) vii viii Babylonian Literary Texts houses and administrative centers in Sumer, Elam, Babylonia, Assyria, and various city states in present-day Syria, Turkey, Iraq, and Iran. Many details of this context will not be known until all texts in both private and public collections have been published and compared to each other. Martin Schøyen MANUSCRIPTS IN THE SCHØYEN COLLECTION CUNEIFORM TEXTS Vol. I. Jöran Friberg, A Remarkable Collection of Babylonian Mathematical Texts Sources and Studies in the History of Mathematics and Physical Sciences New York: Springer, 2007 Vol. II. Bendt Alster, Sumerian Proverbs in the Schøyen Collection Cornell University Studies in Assyriology and Sumerology 2 Bethesda, Md.: CDL Press, 2007 Vol. III. Stephanie Dalley, Babylonian Tablets from the First Sealand Dynasty in the Schøyen Collection Cornell University Studies in Assyriology and Sumerology 9 Bethesda, Md.: CDL Press, 2009 Vol. IV. A. R. George, Babylonian Literary Texts in the Schøyen Collection Cornell University Studies in Assyriology and Sumerology 10 Bethesda, Md.: CDL Press, 2009 Other volumes in preparation Series Editor’s Preface collections, in spite of the objections of a small but vocal minority. These and other such publications will inevitably contribute substantially to the subsequent study of Mesopotamian literature, history, and culture, regardless of these objections. We are most grateful to those scholars— Wilfred Lambert, Stefan Maul, and Konrad Volk—who aided and encouraged George in the study of these fascinating texts and, in particular, to Martin Schøyen for permission to include this volume from the Schøyen Collection in the CUSAS series. Thanks to his interest and encouragement we have been able to expedite its appearance. We are grateful also to the anonymous donor and to the Occasional Publication Fund of the Department of Near Eastern Studies, Cornell University, for the generous subsidies that made this publication possible. The study and publication of literary texts from Mesopotamia probably attracts the widest interest among scholars and the general public. The Schøyen Collection contains an unusually rich and varied sampling of both Sumerian and Babylonian literary compositions, both known and hitherto unknown. It is thus of great significance that we are able to publish this edition by Andrew George of eighteen Babylonian literary compositions, the third volume in this series from the Schøyen Collection and, I am happy to add, not the last. Following upon his remarkable edition of the Gilgamesh Epic, George now provides a potpourri of these new and often difficult Babylonian texts. Furthermore, thanks to Miguel Civil’s preliminary study, the outstanding Sumerian literary texts are also being prepared for publication. No existing private collection contains such a diverse selection of literary compositions and it is imperative that these texts be studied and published quickly so that they can be integrated into the existing corpus. Each new text discovery, excavated or otherwise without context, usually adds additional components to what we know of the range of literary production in Babylonia. However, this publication also provides some unexpected surprises. It continues to set an example to all of the need and importance to publish texts, even without established context, that are available in private and public David I. Owen Curator of Tablet Collections Jonathan and Jeannette Rosen Ancient Near Eastern Seminar Department of Near Eastern Studies Cornell University Ithaca, New York April 2009 ix Acknowledgments ed and published is a driving force behind the series Manuscripts in the Schøyen Collection and represents both a fine example to collectors of antiquities and a signal service to scholarship and knowledge. When, in time, the rich contents of his collection become better known, it will be clear that Mr Schøyen has saved for posterity a highly important resource for all engaged in the recovery of the intellectual and cultural legacy of the ancient world. These three individuals have been instrumental in bringing the tablets of the Schøyen Collection to the attention of scholars worldwide, in facilitating the study of them by visiting academics, and in helping work on the collection slowly to bear fruit. To them I express my especial gratitude and admiration. My work on tablets in the Schøyen Collection has also been helped by a personal research grant from the British Academy and by research funds placed at my disposal by the School of Oriental and African Studies, the University of London. These monies enabled me to make many visits to Norway between 2005 and 2008 to study, copy and collate the cuneiform tablets published here, as well as other tablets that will appear in succeeding volumes of divinatory and historical texts. The School of Oriental and African Studies offset the cost of scanning the cuneiform copies in preparation for their publication. The photographs of cuneiform tablets published in this volume are reproduced by kind permission of Professor Braarvig and Mr Schøyen. I am grateful also to Dr David I. Owen of Cornell University for accepting this volume into the series Cornell University Studies in Assyriology and Sumerology. It is a pleasure here to acknowledge those who have made this volume possible. Dr Renee Kovacs began the process of matching the cuneiform treasures of the Schøyen Collection with interested scholars. It was her vision to establish a publication project under the title Manuscripts in the Schøyen Collection, Cuneiform Texts. The series reaches its fourth volume with the publication of this book. Dr Kovacs first introduced me to Mr Schøyen’s tablets, assigned the Old Babylonian literary texts to me for study and publication, and provided me with preliminary photographs of some pieces. Her withdrawal from participation in the publication project as a whole in 2005 left me with the responsibility for co-ordinating the project, a task made much easier by the meticulous databases and notes she passed on to me. Professor Jens Braarvig of the University of Oslo initiated the systematic conservation and photography of the Schøyen Collection’s cuneiform tablets under the auspices of first the Norwegian Academy of Science and Letters and then the Norwegian Institute for Palaeography and Historical Philology (PHI for short). He generously arranged for the subsidy of some of my early stays in Oslo, facilitated my work at PHI in ways too numerous to mention, and continues to combine a tremendous gift for friendship with an abiding interest in the contents and destiny of the Schøyen Collection’s tablets. Mr Martin Schøyen first welcomed me to his collection in 2001 and has repeated his hospitality many times since then. His collection arose from a deep intellectual engagement with manuscripts from all periods and places. His desire to have them properly preserved, record- xi xii Babylonian Literary Texts I am not the first Assyriologist to study some of the texts presented here. At some time the tablets bearing Texts Nos. 2, 3, 4, 7, 9, 11, 14, 17 and 18 passed through the hands of Professor W. G. Lambert and were thereafter accompanied by his written comments, sometimes brief, usually extensive, always illuminating. Text No. 8 likewise carries with it an unsigned testimonial by another hand. I have been very fortunate in thus having pilots to steer me through often difficult waters. Where I have still managed to hit the rocks, it is my own inept navigation that is to blame. The task of decipherment and analysis was enhanced by a series of seminar presentations. Invitations to read individual tablets in seminar at Heidelberg in 2005 and Tübingen in 2008 were gladly accepted from Professors Stefan Maul and Konrad Volk. I am most grateful to them for making these readings possible, profitable, and enjoyable. A commitment to regular seminars in Norway and England ensured no shirking the onward march of progress on the volume. In Oslo these were hosted by Professor Braarvig, first at PHI when it occupied premises in Drammensveien and later at the Department of Culture Studies and Oriental Languages, the University of Oslo. I recall with happiness many invigorating discussions and much fine hospitality. In London I was able to read all these tablets with colleagues, students, and visitors in a regular seminar at the School of Oriental and African Studies, which has become known as the London Cuneiforum, in shameless emulation of the Cuneiforum established in the 1990s by Professor J. N. Postgate at the annual conference of the British Association for Near Eastern Archaeology. It is hardly necessary to declare that reading these texts in seminar helped sharpen my understanding in many ways. If I single out three members of the London Cuneiforum for individual acknowledgment, Professor M. J. Geller, Dr. Daniel Schwemer, and Mr. Frans van Koppen, I hope I shall not injure the feelings of others in Oslo, London, and Germany who also made a contribution to unlocking the secrets of these often difficult texts. My last duty is the most pleasant one. I first met Mrs. Elizabeth Gano Sørenssen in 2001 when she picked me up in her old and battered white van from a tiny provincial station and drove me across rough dirt roads to Mr. Schøyen’s farmhouse. Though Elizabeth was employed as the Schøyen Collection’s librarian, I soon learned that the job description knew no bounds and that the van was equally versatile. When the tablets later moved from Oslo to their present location, it was Elizabeth’s job to load them into the same old van and take them back to Oslo to meet visiting scholars at PHI. More recently a newer, red van has had the job of fetching me from the station and delivering me back again, and Elizabeth’s house has become my home in Norway. She is a woman of tremendous vigor leavened with a wise respect for the superior forces of chaos: one summer she surrendered her house to no fewer than nine Georges at once, most of them under twelve. Her reward for all her efforts has been to lock me up daily, usually in solitary confinement, less often in the company of other Assyriologists. I would not be surprised to learn that she gained a certain satisfaction from this duty. Elizabeth retires this summer from her post as the collection’s librarian. For all her patient service and generous friendship, she deserves a great deal more than I can offer, which is the solemn dedication to her of this book. A.R.G. Buckhurst Hill 16 July 2008 Abbreviations lichungen der Deutschen OrientGesellschaft 16 and 37. 2 vols. Leipzig, 1911 and 1922 KAR E. Ebeling, Keilschrifttexte aus Assur religiösen Inhalts. Wissenschaftliche Veröffentlichungen der Deutschen Orient-Gesellschaft 28 and 34. 2 vols. Leipzig, 1915–23 MBGT Middle Babylonian Grammatical Texts, ed. Civil and Kennedy 1986 MS manuscript; Manuscript Schøyen, siglum of the Schøyen Collection MSL B. Landsberger, M. Civil et al., Materialien zum sumerischen Lexikon, Materials for the Sumerian Lexicon. Rome, 1937– NBGT Neo-Babylonian Grammatical Texts, ed. Hallock and Landsberger 1956 OB Old Babylonian OBGT Old Babylonian Grammatical Texts, ed. Hallock and Landsberger 1956 PBS Publications of the Babylonian Section, University of Pennsylvania, The Museum. Philadelphia, 1911–26 PRAK H. de Genouillac, Premières recherches archéologiques à Kich. 2 vols. Paris, 1924–25 R H. C. Rawlinson et al., The Cuneiform Inscriptions of Western Asia. 5 vols. London, 1861–84 SAA State Archives of Assyria. Helsinki, 1987– SB Standard Babylonian STC L. W. King, The Seven Tablets of Creation, or the Babylonian and Assyrian Legends concerning the Creation of the World and of Mankind. 2 vols. London, 1902. Reprinted in one volume as Enuma Elish. The Seven Tablets of Creation. Escondido, Calif., 1999 Altbabylonische Briefe. Leiden, 1964– C. H. W. Johns, Assyrian Deeds and Documents. 4 vols. Cambridge AHw W. von Soden, Akkadisches Handwörterbuch. 3 vols. Wiesbaden, 1965– 81 ˘ H. Kızılyay and F. R. Kraus, ARN M. Cıg, Eski Babil zamanına ait Nippur hukukî vesikaları, Altbabylonische Rechtsurkunden aus Nippur. Istanbul, 1952 BAM F. Köcher, Die Babylonische-assyrische Medizin in Texten und Untersuchungen. Berlin, 1963– BE The Babylonian Expedition of the University of Pennsylvania, Series A: Cuneiform Texts. Philadelphia, 1893–1914 BRM Babylonian Records in the Library of J. Pierpont Morgan. 4 vols. New Haven, Conn., 1912–23. CH Codex °ammurapi CT Cuneiform Tablets from Babylonian Tablets (&c.), in the British Museum. London, 1896– CTN Cuneiform Texts from Nimrud. London, 1972– EAE En›ma Anu Ellil ETCSL The Electronic Text Corpus of Sumerian Literature. http://www-etcsl. orient.ox.ac.uk/ GAG W. von Soden, Grundriss der akkadischen Grammatik. Analecta Orientalia 33/47. Rome, 1969. GAG3 = 3rd edn, 1995 Gilg GilgameÍ, ed. George 2003 ITT H. de Genouillac, Inventaire des tablettes de Tello conservées au Musée Impérial Ottoman. 5 vols. Paris, 1910–21 KAH L. Messerschmidt and O. Schroeder, Keilschrifttexte aus Assur historischen Inhalts. Wissenschaftliche VeröffentAbB ADD xiii xiv STT TCL TIM TMH Babylonian Literary Texts O. R. Gurney, J. J. Finkelstein and P. Hulin, The Sultantepe Tablets. 2 vols. 1957, 1964 Textes cunéiformes du Louvre. Paris, 1910– Texts in the Iraq Museum. Baghdad, Leiden, 1964– Texte und Materialien der Frau Professor Hilprecht-Sammlung vorderasiatischen Altertümer (Hilprecht Collection of Babylonian Aniquities) im Eigentum der Friedrich-Schiller-Universität Jena. Leipzig, Berlin, Wiesbaden, 1932–. NF = Neue Folge UET Uruk VAS YOS Ur Excavations, Texts. London, Philadelphia, 1928– H. Hunger, E. von Weiher, Spätbabylonische Texte aus Uruk, U18. 5 vols. Berlin, Mainz, 1976–98 Vorderasiatische Schriftdenkmäler der Königlichen (Staatlichen) Museen zu Berlin. Leipzig, Berlin, Mainz, 1907– Yale Oriental Series, Babylonian Texts. New Haven, Conn., 1915– Introduction Old Babylonian literary texts are rare. In this statement the reference is not to literary texts on tablets of the Old Babylonian period; these are comparatively common, by virtue of the masses of eighteenth-century copies of Sumerian literary compositions discovered in large quantities at Nippur and Ur and in smaller quantities elsewhere. The reference is to literary compositions in the Old Babylonian dialect of the Akkadian language. In his book on Style and Form in Old-Babylonian Literary Texts (Groningen, 2003), Nathan Wasserman catalogued 275 such texts. But this figure includes as Old Babylonian literary texts many compositions in genres that, though literary in the widest sense, are conventionally given separate generic labels in Assyriology: incantations, laments, divination prayers, letter prayers, some royal inscriptions, funerary inscriptions, proverbs, and translations of Sumerian texts in bilingual format. When these are excluded, the figure drops to about fifty. The present collection of twenty Babylonian literary texts from the first half of the second millennium BC contains a much smaller proportion of compositions in other genres, and thus adds substantially to the known corpus of Old Babylonian literature. And, as usual with Old Babylonian literature, the new pieces spring some big surprises, the most unexpected being texts Nos. 1 and 14. The four texts that are not compositions in literary genres nevertheless have, between them, much to tell us about literary creativity in Akkadian. The twenty tablets are organized formally into four sub-divisions: narrative poetry (Nos. 1–6), praise poetry (No. 7), love poetry (Nos. 8–12), and prose (Nos. 13–19). This is a pragmatic typology created to meet the needs of this particular book. It does not make any statement on any literary system, ancient or modern, but it does highlight the distinction between poetry and prose, which is perhaps not given enough consideration in the study of ancient Mesopotamian literature. The six tablets published as narrative poetry represent three different literary compositions. Text No. 1 is a wholly new composition that introduces surprising new mythology relating to a ram-god called Bazi; its subscript refers to the composition’s being sung on a particular occasion, which offers a rare insight into the performance of Old Babylonian narrative poetry. Texts Nos. 2–3 are new pieces of the wellknown poem of Atram-Óas‹s, the Old Babylonian narrative of creation and the flood. Texts Nos. 4–6 are from the equally well-known Epic of GilgameÍ; Nos. 4 and 5 have been published before, but the new edition of No. 5 takes advantage of subsequent conservation and adds materially to our knowledge of its text. Text No. 7 is a sole example of praise poetry: a new song in praise of the god Ninzida (NingiÍzida). Love poetry is a genre populated by a tiny number of Old Babylonian examples; Texts Nos. 8 and 9 are significant additions to the genre. Related compositions are No. 10, which is the opposite of a love poem but recycles two stanzas of an already known love dialogue; No. 11, a spell to induce amatory desire in the beloved; and No. 12, which seems to collect incipits of love poems and other literature. The prose compositions are six in number. Text No. 13 is a short prayer to the goddess IÍtar as the evening star. No. 14 is a unique example of Old Babylonian Edubba-literature, in which a father chastises his son in a long Akkadian monologue that is the source text for an extremely abstruse translation into academic Sumerian. No. 15 is a diplomatic letter set against the waning of the power of Larsa in the xv xvi Babylonian Literary Texts eighteenth century BC; its highly literary language sets it apart from most letters. Text No. 16 is a very short composition that probably served as a model letter in pedagogy. More surely a model is a court document surviving in three different copies (No. 17); it is uncertain whether we are to understand the extraordinary tale it contains as a piece of fiction or as a true story. Text No. 18 is another example of a pedagogical text in Akkadian, this time containing legal prescriptions. Instruction in school is also the context of Text No. 19, which adds to our slender knowledge of riddles in Akkadian. In archaeological terms all the pieces published here are unprovenanced. On internal evidence it is clear that all twenty tablets derive ultimately from Babylonia. Most of them bear texts written according to spelling conventions that have been identified as largely southern. Many Old Babylonian letters and administrative documents now in the Schøyen Collection are clearly from Larsa in the period before its conquest by °ammurapi of Babylon, and this southern city is probably the source of the majority of the collection’s other Old Babylo- nian tablets. One text published here bears a well-known Larsa date (No. 18). However, Text No. 7 employs spelling conventions that in an archival document would suggest a northern provenance; and there are good grounds for associating Texts Nos. 16 and 17 with archives from D›r-AbieÍuÓ in eastern Babylonia. The study of the late Old Babylonian archives from D›r-AbieÍuÓ, much of them now in North America, has already begun to open up new vistas in Old Babylonian history, intellectual and cultural, as well as political and military. The undeniable importance of primary sources for the reconstruction of man’s past makes it imperative that all cuneiform texts be published without prejudice, no matter what their origin, history, and present location, and whether or not their owner makes public what he knows of their recent history, as Mr. Schøyen has done in his statement of provenance (pp. vii–viii). Certainly our knowledge of Babylonian culture would be considerably poorer if we chose to ignore the compositions published in this volume. Catalogue Text Measurements MS in mm Number Description 1 Song about the god Bazi Tablet, complete, portrait format, single column, 40+21 ll. + subscript of 2 ll. 158™70™28 2758 2 Excerpt from the poem of Atram-Óas‹s Tablet, lower part missing, portrait format, two columns, 20+19+25+19 ll. 125™115™40 5108 3 Excerpt from the poem of Atram-Óas‹s Fragment, upper part, portrait format, single column, 11+1 ll. 62™52™25 2950 4 Excerpt from the Epic of GilgameÍ Fragment, middle part, portrait format, single column, 8+5 ll. 70™34™25 2652/5 5 Excerpt from the Epic of GilgameÍ Tablet, complete, portrait format, single column, 45+3+36 ll. 203™75™32 3025 6 Excerpt from the Epic of GilgameÍ Twenty small-to-minute fragments, among which: 1. Flake, from near the right edge, cut to size, 11 ll. 2. Flake, from the left edge, 8 ll. 3. Flake, from the left edge, 7 ll. 4. Chip, left-hand corner, 2+3+3 ll. 5. Flake, from top or bottom edge, 3+1 ll. 6. Flake, from the right edge, 1 l. 7. Flake, from the middle, cut to size, 4 ll. 11. Flake, from left edge, 2 ll. 3263 38™18™7 27™16™5 28™8™7 13™13™12 13™14™9 14™12™11 16™8™3 5™9™2 3263/1 3263/2 3263/3 3263/4 3263/5 3263/6 3263/7 3263/11 7 Song in praise of the god NingiÍzida Tablet, complete, portrait format, single column, 16+8 ll. 110™63™22 2000 8 Love poem, a man wants a woman Tablet, complete, portrait format, single column, 21+2 ll. 115™58™27 2866 9 Love poem, a woman wants a man Tablet, complete, portrait format, single column, 18+17+1 ll. 95™55™25 5111 130™65™25 3285 10 Love poem, a man spurns a woman Tablet, complete, portrait format, single column, 31+19 ll. xvii xviii Text Babylonian Literary Texts Description Measurements in mm MS Number 11 Love charm, a man wants a woman Tablet, complete, portrait format, single column, 16 ll., rev. blank 95™54™25 2920 12 Collection of incipits of love poems and other songs Tablet, complete, portrait format, single column, 22+15 ll. 105™62™22 3391 13 Prose prayer to the goddess IÍtar Tablet, bottom missing, landscape or square format, single column, 9+2 ll. 50™70™22 2698/3 14 Bilingual composition in which a scribe harangues his son Tablet, complete, portrait format, single column, 68+58 ll. + subscript of 1 l. 198™64™20 2624 15 Literary letter of Sîn-muballiˇ, viceroy of Yamutbal Tablet, complete, portrait format, single column, 31+30 ll. 123™49™28 3302 16 A model(?) message home, a son to his father Tablet, complete, square, single column, 8+7 ll. 43™45™16 3208 17A Copy of a model juridical document dated Samsuditana 5 Tablet, nearly complete, portrait format, two columns, 21+2+30+5+18+14 ll. + subscript of 4 ll. 142™110™37 3209/1 17B Copy of a model juridical document dated Samsuditana 5 Tablet, complete, portrait format, two columns, 26+1+19+2+29+3+17+4 ll. 143™119™33 3209/2 17C Copy of a model juridical document dated Samsuditana 5 Tablet, complete, portrait format, two columns, 30+4+29+4+26+16+4 ll. 152™124™33 3209/3 18 Practice tablet of legal content Tablet, nearly complete, portrait format, single column, 20+2 ll. + subscript of 2 ll. 118™56™26 4507 19 School tablet, riddles Tablet, complete, landscape format, single column, 4+1+3 ll. 36™53™21 3949 Concordances 1. Concordance of tablet numbers in the Schøyen Collection (MS) and text numbers in this volume. MS Number 2000 2624 2652/5 2698/3 2758 2866 2920 2950 3025 3208 3209/1 Text Number MS Number 7 14 4 13 1 8 11 3 5 16 17 MS A 3209/2 3209/3 3263 3285 3302 3391 3949 4507 5108 5111 Text Number 17 MS B 17 MS C 6 10 15 12 19 18 2 9 2. Concordance of text numbers in this volume with entry numbers in the database of the Cuneiform Digital Library Initiative, http://cdli.ucla.edu, which offers color images of all the tablets published in this book, sometimes in a fuller photographic record. Text Number CDLI Number Text Number 1 P251785 2 P254176 3 P252009 4 P251680 5 P252031 6 Fragment 1 P387696 6 Fragments 2–21 P388113–32 7 P250735 8 P251898 9 P254179 10 P252226 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 MS A 17 MS B 17 MS C 18 19 xix CDLI Number P252006 P252332 P251711 P251668 P252243 P252199 P252200 P252201 P252202 P253613 P253038 The Song of Bazi No. 1 2758 Pls. 1–4 in four-line stanzas or quatrains, as in other Old Babylonian poetry. As always, correct interpretation of the text depends on careful observation of the pauses that coincide with the couplet boundaries. The following synopsis will attempt to demarcate those boundaries. This single-column tablet contains in its sixtythree lines of text an Old Babylonian literary composition that elaborates previously unknown mythology. According to the tablet’s subscript, the poem was sung on a particular day during the year; its performance seems therefore to have been an annual event. The occasion of the performance will be discussed in the commentary, alongside other matters arising. It is necessary first to deal with the contents of the song itself. The protagonist of the song is identified as an omniscient son of Enki destined by his father to be king of the gods. However, the god in question is not Marduk of Babylon, nor any previously known son of Enki, but a deity called Bazi. Bazi is both a herding god (l. 11a) and himself a ram, kazzum (2, 35). The myth told by the poem concerns his growth to adulthood and consequent desire for a home of his own, where he can raise his flocks. The problem is resolved by his occupation of the house his father designates for him and his installation there as king. In this respect, the poem prefigures En›ma eliÍ, the great Babylonian narrative poem that tells how Marduk grew up as the son of Ea-Enki and, among other things, took up residence in Babylon as king of the gods. But there the similarities end. The identity of Bazi and his home on a Syrian mountain will be considered after a synopsis of the composition and the presentation of the text itself, as will the myth’s wider significance. The poem inscribed on MS 2758 is organized rigorously into verses (poetic lines) that usually combine in couplets; most lines of tablet coincide with single verses but there are two identifiable cases of long lines that are divisible into two verses (ll. 18, 29a). In addition, couplets are often (but not always) paired by sense Content The composition begins with a quatrain in which the protagonist is identified by his attributes but, unless at the end of ll. 1 or 2, not actually named (1–4). The first couplet states first his dwelling-place (unfortunately broken), then his physical incarnation (a ram), and parentage (Enki). The second couplet reports one consequence of his fathering by Enki: a transcendent ability to read the minds of men (3–4). The phrasing of this passage prefigures the use of very similar language about the omniscience of Marduk (and other deities). The second quatrain moves from circumstance to action (5–8). The protagonist is born in the Apsû, Enki’s watery cosmic domain, whereupon his father pronounces his destiny as a future king of the gods. The second couplet of this stanza reports Enki’s very words, not only promising his son kingship in heaven but also the task of arbitrating justice on earth. Neither topic recurs in the extant remainder of the composition, as these themes give way to other concerns. Next comes a sequence of six lines that for the first time describe the protagonist in action (9–12a). Two of these lines have been squeezed onto the tablet between lines that were already inscribed, as if interpolated as afterthoughts (11a and 12a); while they thus turn four lines into six, they do not jar and appear to be original to the text. Lines 9–11a are a quatrain; its burden is to present a problem that must be 1 2 Babylonian Literary Texts resolved later in the narrative: having grown up, the protagonist addresses his father about the issue of his place of residence. It is significant that he wishes to raise flocks of sheep and goats. This is not just because he is himself one of their number. As a god who is predestined to live in the Syrian uplands, pastoralism will be what supports his household and maintains his wealth. The protagonist’s speech continues with the couplet ll. 12–12a, in which he observes that all the cult-centers are already occupied by other gods. There follows a couplet of narrative in which Enki makes ready his reply (13–14); it focuses on the father, his qualities of considered wisdom (m⁄lik il‹) and organizational expertise (b¤l Í‹m⁄tim), and the place where he dwells (Apsû). This stanza, the fourth quatrain, acts as a bridge between the protagonist’s question in the third quatrain (9–11a) and his father’s answer in the stanza that follows (15–19). The fifth stanza begins by at last naming the protagonist. The first line of the tablet is long but probably not a whole couplet (15): it can be analyzed as a verse of four poetic units (or feet, in the terminology of Buccellati 1990) punctuated by a caesura: ana Bázi | Enki ab›Íu || ͤr‹ takl‹m⁄tim | ‹taww›Íum. After introducing Bazi by name, the line returns the focus briefly to Enki and then reveals what his coming speech will be: “songs of revelation.” The revelation itself is the passage of direct speech that follows. Considerable difficulties attend the interpretation of Enki’s song and its division into poetic units. Two points are clear: Enki allocates to his son Mts. fiaÍÍ⁄r and BaÍ⁄r (16), where, on the former, a throne-dais has apparently appeared for him (18). If ll. 15–16 are a couplet, l. 17 will start another. The identity of the masculine third-person subject of this line’s main verb is not made explicit, and its exact purport and elucidation elude me. Perhaps Enki refers to himself in this line, for who else dear to Bazi knows where he will reside? Line 18 runs over onto an indented line and is too long to be scanned as a single verse. It consists of two separate topics: the appearance of the cult-center and the sending of news to the king. The correct division into verses is a matter of observing structure and meaning. Reading forward from the line’s beginning, a verse can be made of aÍ-fiaÍÍ⁄r ›‰i parakku ana rakbî “a throne-dais rose forth for the messengers,” but, while the structure is acceptable, the sense of it does not convince. Reading back from the end of l. 18, a verse rakbî | Í›l‹ma || wudd‹ma | an Íárrim “send messengers up to make it known to the king!” makes a more meaningful poetic line, and one with a delicate balance, containing as it does four feet punctuated by a caesura and bound by a chiasmus. The division into verses thus occurs after the preposition ana, and we must assume that something has mistakenly been omitted after that preposition. Probably this was a noun like Íubt‹ka “for your abode,” a word later used of Bazi’s residence (39 Íupassu). The two verses of l. 18 do not form a couplet, for that would leave the enigmatic l. 17 marooned; the verse 18a (aÍfiaÍÍ⁄r ›‰i parakku ana <. . .>) concludes the business begun in l. 17; verse 18b (rakbî Í›l‹ma wudd‹ma an Íarrim) thus should be expected to form a couplet with l. 19. Line 19 is a verbless nominal phrase, consisting of a noun and its attributes (el-le-tim Íar-ra-tim m⁄rti Anim), and so must be attached syntactically either to l. 18 or to l. 20. Parsing the noun as genitive singular governed by the preposition an(a) in l. 18 yields better sense than parsing it as accusative plural in some adverbial relation to ittasÓar in l. 20. In addition, reading on will determine that ll. 20– 21, 22–23 and 24–25 make acceptable couplets. All this confirms from meaning and structure what has already been suggested, that l. 19 is better paired with l. 18b rather than l. 20. If Enki’s song is to be a succession of couplets, as one expects, then it can be set out as the latter five lines of a six-line stanza, as follows: 15 ana Bázi | Enki ab›Íu || ͤr‹ takl‹m⁄tim | ‹taww›Íum 16 addíkkum | fiaÍÍ⁄r u BaÍ⁄r | Íadi’ámma 17 ayyumm⁄n | Ía tara’’am›ma || Í›ma | ‹de 18a aÍ-fiaÍÍ⁄r | ›‰i || parákku | ana <Íubt‹ka?> 18b rakbî | Í›l‹ma || wudd‹ma | an Íárrim 19 élletim | Íárratim || m⁄rti | Ánim The Song of Bazi The most important line of Enki’s song is the first, in which he answers Bazi’s question (16). It is the only line of the song structured in three units (in Buccellati’s terminology a verse of two simple feet, or odd cola, straddling a complex foot, or even cola). The effect is to start the song slowly, which can be imagined to add solemnity to the message conveyed in the line. With the verse structure of Enki’s song so organized, further attention can be given to its meaning as a whole. Enki starts by allocating Bazi his cult-center (15–16), continues after an enigmatic comment by describing how the cult-center came to be (17–18a), and ends by giving Bazi instructions (18b–19). The point of l. 17 is perhaps that Enki knows a further detail and will now impart it: a throne-dais has appeared (›‰i) on Mt. fiaÍÍ⁄r. Note that the throne-dais was not built but came into being spontaneously, a notion that fits with the description of Bazi’s abode, later in the poem, as a place of natural rather than artificial topography. Bazi must send a message by courier to the “king” and the “pure queen, daughter of Anum.” When singular, the daughter of Anum is most commonly the goddess IÍtar. The theology of the queenly IÍtar that informs this passage is best expressed in the famous Old Babylonian hymn for Ammiditana in praise of IÍtar, in which she sits enthroned in Uruk alongside “king” Anum, who is further identified as ÓammuÍ “the head of her family” (Thureau-Dangin 1925). The “king” of the present passage is thus also Anum. Enki’s instruction to Bazi is therefore to inform the rulers of the universe of his occupation of Mts. fiaÍÍ⁄r and BaÍ⁄r. The use of rakbûm “messenger” is a detail from human communication; just as generals sent their lords news of conquest by courier, so Bazi will do the same. The next stanza is far less problematic; it consists of two couplets in which the topics are arranged chiastically, Íadûm-⁄lum, ⁄lum-Íadûm (20–23). In the first couplet Bazi arrives at the mountain and inspects the settlement, called ⁄lum l⁄ kiÍuppûm, i.e. an inhabited, built-up area (20–21). Evidently there was a town, something that to the Babylonian way of thinking was 3 required in a cult-center, in order to house the people who serviced a god’s cult. More difficult is the simile of l. 20, whichever of the two possible readings is chosen: how is circling a mountain akin to visiting queens (k‹ Íarr⁄tim)? Alternatively, how could Bazi’s reconnaissance, ordained by Enki, be described as criminal (k‹ sarr⁄tim)? Perhaps the text is corrupt and once read k‹ Íarr⁄qim “like a thief,” i.e. stealthily. The second couplet at first continues to focus on the town, which is found to be not too far away (from the mountain?), evidently a favorable location, and then concludes with Bazi’s assault on the mountain (22–23). The sundering of mountains by heroes is a well-known mytheme in ancient Mesopotamian folklore, where it attaches to GilgameÍ and Sargon of Akkade (George 2003: 467–68); the god Ninurta also smashed mountains and restructured them to provide water for the Tigris, as told in the Sumerian poem Lugale. In this instance, Bazi breaks a mountain in order to provide a home. The couplet ends with a phrase that makes a first allusion to the strange nature of this abode: er‰etam uÍpelki “he made the earth gape open.” Bazi’s cult-center is in a hole in a mountain. The poem continues with the further description of Bazi’s extraordinary abode; this occupies two quatrains (24–29a). His house “was created,” i.e. appeared spontaneously as a result of his assault on the mountain, amid a surrounding flood of water (24–25). It was not made of brick and plaster, but of lapis lazuli and silver; the entry was paved with slabs of gold and its door-leaves held in place by monstrous snakes (26–27). The next couplet continues the description of the gateway. Not all details are intelligible, but the guardianship of death enhanced the dread terror of the place (28–29). The following line is another example of two verses written on one line of clay. They have been squeezed between ll. 29 and 30 in tiny script, evidently because they were omitted in error and had to be inserted later. These verses make a couplet reporting that Bazi’s house was traversed by the waters of life and death (29a). The image of water flowing in the god’s house calls to mind the four rivers flowing from God’s garden in Eden and, more exactly, the passage 4 Babylonian Literary Texts of Revelations that describes a “river of the waters of life” issuing from God’s throne (Rev. xxii 1). Something similar was part of Babylonian religious thought, for Marduk’s temple in Babylon held a sacred well, é.idim.sag.gá “House, Primordial Wellspring,” that represented the life-giving waters of the rivers Tigris and Euphrates (Tintir II 33, ed. George 1992: 46–47 // CTN IV 237 obv. 8', ed. George 1999: 72 n. 16). Other temples were similarly equipped. The motif was evidently widespread in time and space. Attention is then turned from the cult-center’s physical description to the activities that occurred there. A conventional Babylonian image introduces the first couplet: the house is full of joy (30). This attribute of Babylonian temples arises from their role in the celebration of festivals (see George 1992: 246–47, 317–18). Bazi shares the inmost sanctuary (pap⁄Óum) with the sun-god fiamaÍ, and the temple as a whole with fiakkan, the lord of the herds (31). Perhaps this signifies that the sanctuary is adorned with a solar disk, and that the god’s flocks throng its courtyards. As father and son fiamaÍ and fiakkan are a pair. They feature in the next couplet also, where the latter is “slain” and the fact announced, as we see it, to fiamaÍ “of blood” and the great Divine River “of sorcery” (32– 33). fiakkan’s death in mythology is reported in the Theogony of Dunnu and he numbers among the residents of the netherworld in the GilgameÍ traditions (George 2003: 850–51). In the context of a festival the mythical death of fiakkan was presumably symbolized by the ritual sacrifice of livestock. The significance of fiamaÍ “of blood” and the Divine River “of sorcery” is perhaps that, as divine supreme judge, fiamaÍ brings retribution to those who shed blood, while the river ordeal is the particular arbiter of justice in the case of allegations of sorcery (CH §2). To sum up, ll. 30–33 form a four-line stanza that seems to describe cultic celebration and animal sacrifice. It thus sets a ritual scene for the next passage, which describes Bazi’s enthronement. The poem’s focus returns to Bazi: he rules his people and city in his dual aspects as prince and ram (34–35). The next couplet announces his dominion in words that might attend the coronation of a human king (amma Íarrum b¤l parakki) but then again celebrates his ovine attributes (36–37). The metaphor of gods and kings butting enemies like an ox, ram, or goat was much used by Babylonian poets. The conventional language is never used more appropriately than here and in the next couplet, where the god is himself a ram (38). However, the tense of the first verb of this couplet is past (unakkip), so the word refers not to a general quality, as in l. 37, but to a specific event. Presumably Bazi waged war on local potentates to secure his dominion. Another interpolated line evokes the defeated enemy, trodden under the victor’s two feet (38a). It is a detail that perhaps alludes to the decoration of Bazi’s throne-dais with vanquished enemies left and right. Lines 34–38a emerge as a six-line stanza hymning Bazi’s dominion and the military success that underpinned it. The poem now returns to the description of Bazi’s place of residence (39ff.). The passage grows more and more fragmentary as decipherment of the damaged surface of the reverse becomes difficult. The lines that deal with Bazi’s household continue at least to l. 48, and thus consist of a minimum of five couplets. The passage attributes to the place conventional imagery: it is said to nudge the extremities of the cosmos (42), like many a regular Babylonian temple (Edzard 1987). But there are two striking details. First, the household is populated by t‹r› ti’⁄m¤tim “eunuchs of the seas” (40). These are presumably some kind of water-dwelling creature; at any rate, the connection with water is further established. The watery nature of Bazi’s abode is again reinforced by the next line, which speaks of his kibrum “brink” (41), a word that is only rarely used for edges of anything other than bodies of water. Bazi’s “brink” is as high as a mountain. It is clearly an important feature of his cult-center, for the word occurs again in ll. 45 and 48, on the last occasion in explicit connection with water. The poem engages the audience, first by asking a question, l⁄ eli (41), and then by an invitation to imagine the place in their minds. The singular imperative is used, amur (43), as in the address prefaced to the Stan- The Song of Bazi dard Babylonian GilgameÍ. The object of this imperative is ambiguous, for dunnum can mean “power” as well as “stronghold,” but since Mt. BaÍ⁄r was a strategic location of military importance, fortified by at least one Babylonian king (see the commentary), probably the heights upon which the listener is asked to gaze were Bazi’s defensive works. The passage beginning in l. 49 probably returns us to narrative. By ilum “god” in that line is surely meant Bazi, as before in l. 3; the singular laÓmum in l. 50 perhaps indicates the arrival of a messenger from Enki’s Apsû, for such is the laÓmum’s role in the poem of Atram-Óas‹s. The words b›rum “wellspring” and k⁄rum “quayside” in this passage again evoke a watery landscape. Little more can be said of the poem’s conclusion, except that Bazi’s destiny is determined (55). The decreeing of destiny for a god, newly ensconced in his cult-center and sitting on his royal throne, is a theme encountered also in En›ma eliÍ, where it takes the form of the pronunciation of Marduk’s fifty names by the assembled gods. In the present text something is done ninefold (54), but damage prevents us knowing more. Aspects of Language and Writing The poetry of this composition is the plain, unadorned literary style found in GilgameÍ and other narratives, which may speak for a popular, oral origin rather than a scholarly one. Forms that might be identified as “hymno-epic” style are terminative Íarr›tiÍ (l. 6) and ͤpiÍÍu (38a), 5 uÍrabba (11a) instead of uÍarba, the apocopated preposition an (18), and the transitive “stative” Íanin (41). The scribe who wrote this tablet was blessed with a very fine hand, one of great beauty and clarity. He could not match manual dexterity with mental attention, however, for he was forced to interpolate lines omitted in error on no fewer than four separate occasions (11a, 12a, 29a, 38a). Erasures are also common, and a further sign of carelessness. The most distinctive feature of the orthography is that long internal vowels are usually written plene; no short vowels are so written. Also notable is the unusual full glossing of the logogram for “god”: dingiri-lum (3, 49, 54), dingir i-li (6); only once is the word written conventionally, ì-lí (13). Mimation is very rarely omitted: pa-ra-ak-ku (18), ba-la-ˇù (29a), sà-da-ru (33), pa-ra-ak-ki (36), qé-er-bu (45), i-re-e-eq-qá (48) are evident examples, but there may be others in the broken passage ll. 49–57. Geminated consonants are not always written plene: defective are: is-sàqar (10, 13), i-ta-wu-ú-Íum (15) by default, a-ama-an (17) if for ayyumm⁄n, wu-di-ma (18), as-kupa-a-tum (27), di-ba-a-Íu (28), ib-ba-la-ka-tu (29a), a-ma (36), Íe-e-pi-Íu (38a), [ú]-wa-‰a-ar-ma (44), ú-ba-al (52). Sibilants are written according to conventions that in archival documents are identified as south Babylonian: is-sà-qar (10, 13), bi-i-is-sú (25), sà-da-ru (33), Íu-pa-as-sú (39). The syllables /pi/ and /pe/ are also written in southern style, not BI but PI: uÍ-pe-el-ki (23), Íe-e-pi-Íu (38a). 6 Babylonian Literary Texts TRANSLITERATION obv. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 11a 12 12a 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 29a 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 rev. 38 38a 39 40 wa-a-Íi-ib ‚am-x xŸ ni[m . . . . . . . ] [k]a-az-zum bu-ku-ur ‚den-kiŸ x[ . . . ] ilum(dingir)i-lum ba-a-ri te-né-Íi-e-‚timŸ mu-‚úŸ-de li-ib-bi-im za-wa-nim ù i-Ía-ri-im ‚i-na qé-reŸ-eb apsîm(zu.ab) na-bi Íum-Íu Íar-ru-ti-iÍ il‹(dingir)i-li den-ki iÍ-Íi-i-Íu Íi-i-ib lu-ú Íar-ra-a-ti i-na i-li-i-ma be-el di-i-in ma-a-tim e-li-iÍ ù Ía-ap-li-iÍ iÍ-tu eˇ-lu-ú-ta-am im-la-a i-da-a-Íu is-sà-qar a-na a-bi-i-Íu den-ki a-bi ma-a-Óa-a-za-am a-li a-Ía-ak-ka-an ka-az-za-‚am im-meŸ-[er]-‚tamŸ a-li uÍ-ra-ab-ba ‰a-ab-[tu-(ma)] úÓ-‚ÓuŸ-zu pa-ra-ak-ku Í[a wa-aÍ-b]u ‚denukk›(a!.nun.na)Ÿ i-lu ra-bu-ú-tum [i]s-sà-q[ar-Íu]m ma-a-‚liŸ-ik ì-lí a-bu-ú-‚ÍuŸ wa-a-Íi-‚ibŸ apsîm(zu.ab) be-el Íi-i-ma-a-tim a-na dba-zi den-ki a-bu-Íu Íe-e-ri ta-ak-li-ma-a-tim i-ta-wu-ú-Íum ad-‚diŸ-ik-kum Ía-aÍ-Ía-a-ar ù ba-Ía-a-ar Ía-di-a-am-ma a-a-ma-a-an Ía ta-ra-a-a-mu-ú-ma Íu-ú-ma i-de-e aÍ-[Í]a-aÍ-Ía-a-ar ú-‰i pa-ra-ak-ku a-na <Íubt‹ka?> rakbî(rá.gaba)meÍ Íu-ú-li-i-ma wu-di-ma an Íar-ri-im el-le-tim Íar-ra-tim ma-a-ar-ti a-nim it-ta-as-Óa-ar Ía-di-a-am ki-i Íar-ra-a-tim iˇ-ˇù-ul a-lam la ki-Íup-pa-Íu a-lum-ma la ru-ú-uq-Íum da-an-ni-iÍ im-Óa-a‰ Ía-di-a-am er-‰e-ta-am uÍ-pe-el-ki bi-i-tum [b]a-ni mu-ú ú-ba-ú-nim i-na qé-re-eb me-e-Íu ba-ni bi-i-is-sú li-ib-na-a-tum na4uqnûm(za.gìn) da-la-a-tum eb-bu-um as-ku-pa!-a-tum Ía Óur⁄‰im(kù.sig17!) ba-aÍ-mumuÍ.meÍ Íu-ku-ú Ía giÍdaltim(ig) Óa-ar ‰i-pa-sú qé-e di-ba-a-‚ÍuŸ ilum(dingir) m‹tum(ba!.ug7) ú-ka-al giÍsikk›ram(sag.kul) atû(ì.duÓ)meÍ mu-ú-tum i-na qé-re-eb bi-ti-i-Íu ib-ba-la-ka-tu mu-ú mi-iÍ-lum ba-la-ˇù mi-iÍ-lum mu-ú-t<um> bi-i-tum ma-li ta-Íe-la-a-tim i-na épap⁄Óim(pa4.paÓ) dÍamaÍ(utu) i-na b‹tim(é) dÍákkan né-e-er-ma dÍákkan Ía ru-Íe-e d ÍamaÍ(utu) Ía da-mi dn⁄ru(íd) rab‹tu(gal) Ía ki-iÍ-pi {ras.} sà-da-ru el-le-e-tim ni-Íi i-bé-e-el ka-az-zum e-te-el-lum Ía a-li-i-Íu a-ma Íar-rum be-el pa-ra-ak-ki e-ed-dam qá-ar-ni-i-in mu-na-ak-ki-ip na-ak-ru-ti-i-Íu i-na qar-ni-‚iŸ-Íu ma-al-ki na-a-ki-ri ú-na-‚akŸ-ki-ip {ras.} Íi-na-ma i-ka-an-nu-Ía Íe-e-pi-Íu la ra-bi-a-at ki-it-mu-ra-‚at ÍuŸ-pa-as-sú ti-i-ru ti-a-me-tim ti-i-ru-ú-Íu The Song of Bazi 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 11a 12 12a 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 29a 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 38a 39 40 TRANSLATION He who dwells in . . . [ . . . . . . ,] ram, son of Enki [ . . . ;] the god who surveys the human race, who knows the minds of the wicked and the just! In the midst of the Apsû his name was chosen, Enki elevated him to be a king of the gods: “Grow old, so that you may be a king among the very gods, prosecutor of the land, both above and below!” After his arms had filled out into manly stature, he spoke to his father, Enki: “Father, where shall I set up my cult-center? Where shall I rear ram (and) ewe? The cult-daises are occupied and taken, where [reside] the Anunnaki, the great gods.” He spoke to him, the sage of the gods, his father, who dwells in the Apsû, the lord of destinies. To Bazi his father Enki talked in songs of revelation: “I hereby give you the mountain fiaÍÍ⁄r and BaÍ⁄r. Someone(?) whom you love, only he knew, at fiaÍÍ⁄r a cult-dais rose forth for <your abode(?)>. Send messengers up to make it known to the king, (and) the pure queen, the daughter of Anum.” He kept circling the mountain as (if around) queens, he viewed the city, the parts that were not fallow. The city itself, it was not too distant for him, he smote the mountain, opened wide the terrain. A house was created, waters flowed forth, in the midst of its waters was created his house. The bricks were lapis lazuli, the doorleaves golden, the thresholds were of gold, pythons were the door poles. Its cone(?) was . . . , copper its twin panels, a dead god was retaining the bolt, the door-keepers were death. In the midst of his house waters were crossing, half were life, half were death. The house was full of joy, the sun was in the cella, fiakkan in the house. Slain is fiakkan of witchcraft, O fiamaÍ of blood, O great Divine River of sorcery! He rules the sacred people, the ram, monarch of his city. Behold the king, lord of the throne-dais, sharp of horn, gorer of his enemies! With his horns he gored the enemy princes, two (of them) bow down at his feet. Is his dwelling not large (and) well stocked, are (not) the eunuchs of the sea his eunuchs? 7 8 Babylonian Literary Texts 41 ki-bi-ir-Íu la ‚eŸ-li Ía-ni-in Ía-di-a-am 42 ú-Ía-ap-li-iÍ er-‰e-tam ù Ía-me-e i-mi-id 43 a-mu-ur du-un-[ni]-i-Íu e-‚liŸ-iÍ <iÍ>-Ía-qí-a-‚amŸ-ma 44 Ía la i-du-ú [ú?]-wa-‰a-ar-ma ur-ra-[a]d 45 ú-ul Ía-[p]e-e[l] qé-er-bu ‚e-miŸ-id ‚ki-ibŸ-rum 46 Ía li-i-Íi-im [i]b-ta-ni x ba ra x-a-Íu 47 wa-ar-ka-ta-a-nu x x x Ía x x-ad-na?-am-ma 48 i-na me-e x-re-e x ab x e ri i-[r]e-e-eq-qá ki-ib-rum 49 ilum(dingir)i-lum zu-x x x x x x-Íum 50 la-aÓ-mu-um x x uÍ [x (x)]-tab-ba-la-a-Íu 51 ka-ta-x x x x x x [x]-tim 52 a-na ‚bu-ur?Ÿ x x x x [x x-t]am? ú-ba-al 53 ka-rum x x id [x x x x ]x-az-za-az 54 ilum(dingir)i-lum Ía x[ x x x] a-na tu-ú-Íu 55 a-na be-el x x x[ x i-Íi-i]m Íi-i-im-ta-am 56 ù Íi-‚i-im-ta-amŸ [x x x ]x-Íu 57 li?-x x [x] x x [x x x x ]x-i-Íu subscript 58 ‚Íi?Ÿ-[i?]-‚ir?Ÿ [db]a-‚ziŸ Ía i-nu-ú-ma ‰⁄b›(érin)Óá 59 [i-na] ›m(ud) [x (x) x] i-il-lu-<ú> iz-za-am-ma-ru NOTES 4. This line contains what seems to be the first attestation of zawânum used attributively. 7. The form Íarr⁄ti is an old-fashioned 2nd-m. sg. stative, predicating Íarrum “king.” 16. The preterite addikkum refers to the hereand-now, an example of the tense’s “performative” function (GAG3 §79b*). Here and in l. 41 the poet uses a hypercorrect form Íadi’amma instead of the historically correct uncontracted form Íadu’amma. The former is not unusual in Old Babylonian poetry, being found also in OB GilgameÍ III 261 and OB Schøyen2 5 (George 2003: 215). 17. The word or phrase a-a-ma-a-an might be analyzed as the old interrogative ay “where” + enclitic man, introducing a rhetorical question on the topic of Bazi’s place of residence. But there are two objections: (a) elsewhere the text uses the usual interrogative of location, ali (ll. 11, 11a), and (b) the plene spelling of the verb seems, in a tablet that is careful of such matters, to rep- resent tara”amu from râmum “to love” rather than tarammû from ramûm “to reside”; râmum is a poor fit with interrogative “where.” In any case, a question such as “where is it that will you reside?” would leave no obvious antecedent for the pronoun of Í›ma ‹de “it is he that knows.” Accordingly, I presume that this is the indefinite ayyumma “someone,” but compounded with enclitic -man instead of usual -ma. The suffix -man is supposedly a particle of “irrealis” (GAG §§123e, 152d), which does not seem appropriate here. The present spelling joins two others that write the vowel plene (Krebernik and Streck 2001: 64). Krebernik and Streck commented that the plene spelling ma-a-an might signify the placing of stress rather than structural length. If von Soden was right in deriving this suffix from the interrogative mannum “who?,” one may argue for structural length by invoking the phonological principle that a long vowel in a final closed syllable compensates for a loss The Song of Bazi 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 subscript 58 9 Is his brink not high, a rival to the mountain? It pierced the netherworld and abutted the heavens. Observe its fortifications, on high it is exalted(?), the one that knows not will . . . and go down. Is the interior not deep, the brink abutted? . . . he has built his . . . To the rear . . . . . . , from the water . . . . . . the brink recedes. The god . . . . . . . . to him, a sea-monster . . . . . . .........., to the well-spring of . . . . . . he brings. The quayside . . . . . . . . . , the god . . . . . ninefold(?). For the lord of . . . [he determined] a destiny, and a destiny . . . . . . . him. Let(?) . . . . . . . . . . . . The [song(?) of] Bazi, which is sung when the people 59 go up [on] the day of [ . . . ] of gemination, so that mannum, when shorn of its case ending, should produce m⁄n, analogous with mukinnum : muk‹n, dannum : d⁄n etc. Thus ayyumma and ayyumm⁄n make a doublet comparable with mamma and mamm⁄n (reduplicated m⁄n?), not only in derivation but also in meaning. The compound ayyumm⁄n is perhaps a rare literary alternative of the common mamm⁄n. 18. The verb Í›lûm signifies an upward motion. Evidently Bazi will send his messengers to Uruk (where Anum and his daughter reside) from the Apsû, below the earth, or from Eridu, which lay downstream of Uruk. 24. The word ubâ’›nim is a further clear example of the II/1 stem of bâ’um (see already George 2003: 317). Here the stem is not so much intensive as conditioned by the plurality of the subject. 27. As written the third sign is neither up nor pa; the original attention was perhaps to write the consonant plene, i.e. as-ku-up-paa-tum, but human error intervened. 28. The line consists of two nominal clauses, the second of which is unproblematic. The last word is dibbum “board of a door” from Sum. dib, in the dual. Such boards are known from the lexical list Urra V 207–8: giÍ ig.dib, giÍig.dib.ba = da-lat di-ip-pi (var. dibi); and the synonym list Malku (CT 18 3 rev. ii 3): di-ib-bu = da-al-tum. The word qé-e is evidently the predicative form of qûm “copper”; door-leaves sheathed in metal sheets are characteristic of ancient Mesopotamian monumental buildings. The first clause is more difficult. It must also describe some part of the door. One thinks of ‰ippatum “pine-cone,” for decorative pine-cones are attested in the sources. The procedure for making ‰íp-pat kaspi(kù.babbar) “cones of silver” out of other metals is described in a first-millennium technological manual (Oppenheim 1966: 35–38, whose reading ziq-pat was corrected by AHw 1104); as restored by 10 Babylonian Literary Texts Oppenheim the text reports that these could be passed off as silver. A Middle Babylonian document from D›r-Kurigalzu records the disbursement of large quantities of gold to various craftsmen in order to make multiple batches of 4 r¤Í¤ti(sag. du)meÍ 4 ‰i-pa-a-ti “four end-pieces (and) four cones” (Gurney 1953 no. 4 ll. 6, 9, 12 etc.). They are summarized as sikk⁄ti “pegs,” once further qualified as Ía ekal (é.[gal]) ayali(dàra.maÍ) “for the Stag Palace” (ll. 32–33). The archive to which this disbursement belongs documents the decoration of parts of two palaces at D›rKurigalzu, including the palaces’ gateways and doors. There is no explicit evidence, however, for doors being furnished with decorative cones and, as a description of such cones, the signs Óa-ar (predicative of Óarrum, Ó⁄rum?) defy explanation. Consequently the first clause of this line cannot be definitively parsed and translated. 29. For dead gods in ancient Mesopotamia see Lambert 1980: 64–65. When I read the song of Bazi at a seminar in Heidelberg, Wiebke Meinholdt commented most astutely that the motif of dead gods as guardians of cosmic gateways also surfaces in the poem of Adapa, where Dumuzi and (Nin)giÍzida are stationed at Anu’s gate. Future investigations of the iconography of doorways should bear this in mind. 32. The translation is not definitive; ne-e-er-ma might also mean “six hundred,” but a derivation from literary nêrum “to slay” is preferred for reasons set out in the introduction. The qualification Ía ruÍê is obscure. I take it from ruÍû, the variant of rusû “witchcraft,” because then fiakkan Ía ruÍê stands parallel with n⁄ru rab‹tu Ía kiÍp‹ in l. 33. 33. This verbless line is written over erasures. Two solutions might be advanced to explain the lack of verb. Either we are meant to supply n¤r again, so that fiamaÍ and the Divine River are slain, or the two names are vocatives. In the absence of any 36. 37. 38. 40. 42. 43. tradition that these deities died, as fiakkan is known to have done, the latter solution is preferred. There is space to continue on the right edge, so the word sad⁄ru “to set in a row” interpolated in small characters between ll. 33 and 34 appears to be not a continuation of the line but a gloss. However, its significance is not understood. The interjection amma is new to Old Babylonian; it is previously attested in Old Assyrian. The phrase b¤l parakkim “lord of a throne-dais” is paraphrastic for “ruler.” The expression eddam qarn‹n is a damqam‹nim construction already attested in Old Babylonian literature, as an epithet of the god Zababa in the poem about Nar⁄m-Sîn and the lord of ApiÍal (Westenholz 1997: 180 ii 5' e-da-{ta}-am qá-ar-ni-in; cf. Wasserman 2003: 49); a later variant occurs in a fragmentary description of Marduk’s chariot (Lambert 1973: 279): e-di-id qarn[i], which follows a pattern damiq ‹nim. These are respectively types 1 and 7 in Erica Reiner’s typology of anomalous constructions of adjectives with genitive nouns (Reiner 1984). Sharp horns also occur as the attribute of a deity likened to a butting animal in Ashurbanipal’s inscription from the temple of IÍtar at Nineveh (Fuchs 1996: 265, l. 7): ri-im!-tú . . . Íá qar-na-a-Íá ed-da mu-nak-ki-pat za-’i-[ri] “(Ninlil) the wild cow whose horns are sharp, who gores the foe.” The erased sign on the right edge is a dittography of ip. On t‹rum “eunuch” see George 1997. In this context the III/1 stem of pal⁄Íum “to pierce” can mean little more than the I/1 stem. The last word might be read Ía-di-a-am-ma or Ía-qí-a-am-ma, but not without raising difficulties: accusative Íadi’amma would be syntactically marooned, stative Íaqi’amma would pass in the first millennium, but not in the Old Babylonian period when the stative was Íaqu. I have assumed a haplo- The Song of Bazi graphic writing of eliÍ iÍÍaqi’amma, i.e. ingressive IV/1 stem. An alternative emendation would be to stative Íaqu’amma, but the ventive would be unusual appended to a stative and makes such a reading less attractive. 44. With [ú]-wa-‰a-ar-ma compare, in an OB legal document, ú-wa-‰i-ru (CT 48 10: 26), according to AHw 1498 an unusually spelled example of the II/1 stem of e‰¤rum “to draw”; and, perhaps more pertinently, ú-wa-‰a-ar in a difficult line of an OB hymn to the Mother Goddess (Krebernik 2003– 11 4: 15 ii 5'), whose editor suggests a derivation either from e‰¤rum or from u‰‰urum “to listen attentively” (p. 17). The latter verb is probably a phantom (Lambert 1982: 284), but neither verb offers a solution in the present instance. 59. The use here of the verb elûm recalls CH §58, where the flocks’ departure from the arable land is noted with the same verb: iÍtu ‰¤n›(u8.udu)Óá i-na ug⁄rim(a.gàr) i-te-li-anim “when the flocks have come up from the irrigated land.” COMMENTARY It remains to deal with matters arising from this new composition. The following paragraphs will explore the identity of the ram-god Bazi, the location of his mountain cult-center in Syria, Enki’s connection with this geographical area, the social context of the myth of Bazi’s journey there, and the ritual context of the composition’s performance. Bazi No deity Bazi is known in the temple cults of south Mesopotamia. However, there is a wellattested tradition according to which the divine Bazi was a legendary ruler of Mari, on the middle Euphrates. This tradition permeates the historiographic record and literary creativity. According to the Sumerian King List, as restored by a tablet from Tell Leilan, the third and fourth rulers of the dynasty of Mari that precedes the third dynasty of KiÍ are listed as follows: d ba.zi lúaÍgab mu 30 in.ak zi.zi lútúg mu 20 in.ak Sumerian King List MS TL ii 26'–27', after Vincente 1995: 242 The god Bazi, a leather-worker, reigned thirty years; Zizi, a fuller, reigned twenty years. C.-A. Vincente (1995: 258) explained the first sign of AN.ba.zi as dittography from an.ba in the previous line (ii 25'), but the present text shows that it is no error and must be read as the divine determinative. As Vincente noted, Bazi and Zizi also appear together in the Syrian recension of the Ballad of Early Rulers, a much-copied second-millennium bilingual composition that points out how even the most famous kings and heroes of old might as well never have existed: me.e mba.[z]i me.e mzi.zi // a-le-e mba-zi a-le-e m zi-zi “Where is Bazi, where is Zizi?” (now Alster 2005: 315 l. 16). This line does not appear in the Old Babylonian sources from southern Mesopotamia; it is an example of the interpolation of local subject-matter into an imported Babylonian text, as is probably the Sutean nomad’s inclusion among IÍtar’s lovers in the Emar copy of GilgameÍ (George 2003: 332). Both Bazi and Zizi were common personal names in third-millennium Mesopotamia, at Mari and elsewhere (Vincente 1995: 258). Bazi of Mari can therefore be characterized as a legendary figure with an ordinary name, who may or may not have been an historical ruler but in time became deified. In this respect he resembles GilgameÍ of Uruk. The traditions that collected around the name of Bazi are eclectic and not necessarily related. One obscure Babylonian royal house of the eleventh century claimed descent from mba-zi. This seems to be a fictitious ancestral name deriving from a place in the district of D›r-Sîn (Brinkman 1968: 158–59); no 12 Babylonian Literary Texts connection is supposed with the divine Bazi of Mari and the high land to the west. Notwithstanding his Syrian provenance, the present text demonstrates that the divine herder Bazi was assimilated into the southern pantheon as the son of Enki of Eridu; I shall return to this strange state of affairs later. Mts. fiaÍÍ⁄r and BaÍ⁄r The Syrian mis-en-scène is confirmed by the protagonist’s home, which is identified as Ía-aÍ-Ía-aar ù ba-Ía-a-ar Íadi’amma “the mountain fiaÍÍ⁄r and BaÍ⁄r” (l. 16). In the convention of this tablet, the plene spellings of the second syllables show that they are long. These two mountains are also paired in a list of mountains that appears in the lexical text Urra XXII and in a lipÍur-litany (Reiner 1956: 134 ll. 38–39). The list explains them both as “the mountain of the Amorites,” a description already attested for Mt. BaÍ⁄r in the third millennium, when Nar⁄m-Sîn referred to ba-sa-ar sa-dú-i mar.dúki (Sommerfeld 2000: 423– 24) and Gudea to ba11.sal.la Óur.sag mar.dú (Stat. B vi 5–6, ed. Edzard 1997: 34). I quote the relevant part of the list of mountains from a Late Babylonian source for Urra XXII: kur.ÍárÍá-ar-Íá-árÍár = Íá-ad a-mu-ur-ri-i kur.bi-Íar = MIN MIN Uruk III 114A i 37–38, ed. von Weiher 1988: 223 The correct reading of the first of the pair as fiarÍar (not °iÓi, as formerly read) is established by the gloss, and corroborated by the spelling used in the present text (ll. 16, 18). The plene writings of the present text support the view that the first name had a good Semitic etymology, from *ÍarÍar, Akk. ÍaÍÍ⁄rum “saw.” Mt. fiaÍÍ⁄r occurs in other Babylonian narrative poems. In Anzû I 25 the birthplace of the Anzûbird is recorded as i-na Íár-Íár Íadî(kur)i e-li-[i] “on fiaÍÍ⁄r, a high mountain,” and his beak was accordingly shaped like a saw. The Óur.sag sa-saru12 “mountain fiaÍÍ⁄r” is probably also associated with Anzû in a third-millennium Semitic composition known from copies excavated at Tell Abu flalabikh in Sumer and Ebla in Syria (Lambert 1989b: 17). As W. G. Lambert notes, in Erra IV 139–43 IÍum destroyed Mt. fiaÍÍ⁄r (Íár-Íár) in order to punish the nomadic Suteans, whose invasion had brought anarchy and civil war to Babylonia. The strategic importance of this mountain for repelling the incursion of Syrian tribes is also evident in historiography: according to Chronicle P the Kassite king KadaÍman-Óarbe built forts on kur.Íár-Íár in order to make war on the Suteans (Grayson 1975: 172 i 8). In an earlier period, fiar-kali-Íarri claims to have triumphed over the Amorites on ba-saar.kur “Mt. BaÍ⁄r” (Sommerfeld 2000: 435). The same mountain, reported by Nar⁄m-Sîn to lie across the Euphrates to those coming from the Tigris, has long been identified with Jebel alBishri, a ridge of high land that stretches westsouthwest from the middle Euphrates to Palmyra (Sommerfeld 2000: 428). The history of settlement on Jebel al-Bishri is becoming better known through the archaeological survey project SYGIS-Jebel Bishri (Lönnqvist 2006). By virtue of its elevation and springs, the ridge has afforded good grazing and watering to pastoralists throughout history, and has also often been put to defensive use. The distribution of the names BaÍ⁄r and fiaÍÍ⁄r led Lambert to conclude that they both referred to the same mountain, with BaÍ⁄r (Bisir and BiÍra at Mari, BeÍri in Assyrian) the name found in “more prosaic texts” (Lambert 1989: 17); fiaÍÍ⁄r occurs only in the literary and scholastic tradition. The Numinous Mountain Bazi’s residence deserves some further comment. It is a gaping hole in a mountain, its banks reach deep into the earth and high into the sky, and it is full of water. To the mind’s eye this imagery suggests a volcanic crater lake, and one can well imagine that such a feature would have been a singularly numinous place to the peoples of an arid region like the Syrian desert. However, the Jebel al-Bishri is no such mountain, and the most prominent volcanic relics lie far away in the north Jazirah, such as Kawkab on the headwaters of the Khabur (Stol 1979: 88) and the less well-known examples near the confluence of the BaliÓ and Euphrates (Catagnoti and Bonechi 1992: 53), and in the western Syrian desert at Jebel Seis (Jabal Says), well to the 13 The Song of Bazi south-west of Palmyra (Wirth 1971 pl. 11, Burns 1999: 138). Much nearer to hand is the basin of Al-Qawm (El-Kowm etc.), which lies at the west end of Jebel al-Bishri. The basin is the site of many prominent tells of strange formation, partly natural and partly man-made, that lie over springs, so that some are equipped with deep wells (I am indebted to Denis Genequand and David Kennedy for drawing my attention to this place). Water from this oasis was still plentiful enough in the early Islamic period to be channeled to the Umayyad fortified settlement at Qasr al-Hair ash-Sharqi, more than thirty kilometers away. The combination of high places and deep water in a single location has been a strategic resource for local pastoralists and long-distance travellers since the palaeolithic era. Neolithic and late Uruk period remains have also been observed in the AlQawm basin, and its several oases continued to be important to travellers in the early modern era (see briefly the report by J. Cauvin and D. Stordeur in Weiss 1994: 109–11). The geology and history of use make the Al-Qawm oasis an attractive location for Bazi’s sacred home. One cannot write on Bazi’s mountain home without noting in passing the existence of Tell Bazi, a high Bronze Age citadel on the Euphrates between Carchemish and Emar, which has been proposed as the Armanum besieged by Nar⁄m-Sîn (Otto 2006), though its name in the Mittani era was urupa-zi-ri (Sallaberger et al. 2006). This is too far from Jebel al-Bishri to be Bazi’s mountain as described in the present text, but it has some corresponding features: colossal height, fortification, and a great cistern. One cannot help wondering whether Tell Bazi’s name represents the survival of the old god’s name into the pre-modern era and its application to a suitable local landmark (cf. the use of Nimrud in toponyms). Enki-Ea and the Gods and Mountains of Syria It was partly the wateriness of Bazi’s home that invited ancient association with Enki, the god of fresh water. Jebel al-Bishri was noted for its fresh-water springs, some of which still provide water (Minna Lönnqvist, personal communica- tion). One Babylonian tradition held that the Syrian “wells of the hill-flanks” were first dug by GilgameÍ on his way from Uruk to the Cedar Forest (George 2003: 98). But there is more. In the light of Bazi’s affiliation to Enki of the Apsû, it is interesting to find that when the deified Syrian nomad, Mardu (Akk. Amurru), was assimilated into the Babylonian pantheon, one of the places found for him was the same household. Thus in the great god-list An = Anum, Mardu-Amurru is the “great ensi of the Apsû” and Enki’s “supreme ensi”: d en5.si.gal.abzu = d en5.si.maÓ = d AN.mar.dú d mar.dú An II 292–93 Evidently the Babylonians thought of the “Westland” beyond Mari as part of Enki’s domain. This notion surely arose through Enki’s identification with Ea, already in the third millennium, for Ea was a deity of great prominence in Syria and the west from the earliest times (Durand 2008: 222–25). The connections of Ea-Enki to the western uplands do not stop with the inclusion of Mardu-Amurru in his household in An = Anum. According to the same god-list, the twentyeighth name of Ea was dÍárÍá-ar-MINÍár (An II 163). The same name is explained in other terms in the following passage of another list: d = dGÌR Íá bir-qi fiakkan is fiakkan of lightning d kur.gal = MIN Íá te-lil-te Great Mountain is fiakkan of purification d mar.dú = MIN Íá su-ti-i Mardu is fiakkan of the Suteans d mar.dú = MIN Íá su-ti-i Amurru is fiakkan of the Suteans d Íár.Íár = MIN Íá su-ti-i d Íár.Íár is fiakkan of the Suteans d GÌR = MIN Íá Íadî(kur)i Sumuqan is fiakkan of the uplands An = Anu Ía am¤li 100–5 (CT 24 42, 89–94) GÌR 14 Babylonian Literary Texts Through their shared association with dÍár. Íár, Ea and fiakkan even came to be equated, so that in the section of the god-list An = Anum treating the court of fiamaÍ, where fiakkan finds a place as the son of fiamaÍ, the following entry occurs (An III 198): dMIN (su-mu-qa-an) é-a = MIN (dGÌR dumu dutu.ke4) “Ea can be read as Sumuqan, who is fiakkan, son of fiamaÍ.” All this speaks for a local, Syrian image of Ea as a herdsmen’s god, quite distinct from his role in conventional Babylonian folklore. The god dÍár.Íár, identified in Babylonian theology with Ea and fiakkan of herds and hailing from the land of the Suteans, can be none other than the deified Mt. fiaÍÍ⁄r. The deification of mountains is a religious phenomenon much attested in ancient north Mesopotamia. Examples are AÍÍur (Lambert 1983b), Kawkab, Dibar (Jebel Abd al-Aziz), Saggar (Jebel Sinjar) and EbiÓ (Jebel Makhul) (Stol 1979: 25–26, 75– 77; George 1992: 467), and it is no surprise that also the Jebel al-Bishri could be held in such honor. At Mari the mountains Saggar, EbiÓ, and Bisir (Jebel al-Bishri) occur in theophoric personal names of the pattern Mut-DN (Durand 1991: 84–89). A goddess was also associated with the Jebel al-Bishri, and known at Mari under the title dU.DAR bi-iÍ-ra “IÍtar of BiÍra” (Lambert 1985: 527). The place of Bazi in this nexus is as a fourth element, the ovine herder-god of the deified mountain range. A Myth of Transhumance What does it mean that a Babylonian poem should tell the myth of a divine herdsman who grew up in Enki’s house in Apsû but then went off to establish his residence on Mt. fiaÍÍ⁄r in Syria? Those who like to read mythology as a gloss on political and military events might wish to find in this story allusions to the campaigns of conquest prosecuted in the Jebel al-Bishri by such kings as Nar⁄m-Sîn and fiar-kali-Íarr‹. However, the tablet’s subscript is the clue to a very different interpretation. The tablet’s subscript indicates that the composition here (and probably also in antiquity) called the song of Bazi was sung on a particular occasion, in›ma ‰⁄b› illû “when the ‰⁄b› go up.” The present tense of the verb signifies a recurring performance. While ‰⁄b› often refers to groups of men on military duty or other work-assignments, it can also mean less organized groups, even a population in general, as when Sargon II’s annals refer to the Suteans as ‰⁄b ‰¤ri “people of the desert” (Fuchs 1994: 137 l. 258). It is suggested here that the clause in›ma ‰⁄b› illû refers to the particular time of year in spring when herdsmen and pastoralist families moved large flocks of sheep and goats from the arable land of the plain to distant grazing grounds at higher elevations (nawûm; on this practice in second-millennium Babylonia see Kraus 1976: 172–75). This practice is known as transhumance. The occasion on which the song was sung might even be restored as ›m [gamartim] “the day of ‘termination’,” with reference to §58 of the Codex °ammurapi. The “termination” was a significant date in this transhumance, for it was marked by the public display of kann› gamartim “the pennants(?) announcing termination” in the city gates and must have been agreed upon in advance (see CAD K 157, Kraus 1976: 174). It would then have been an appropriate occasion for formal celebratory ritual. We know that in Old Babylonian documents from lower Mesopotamia the nawûm are often identified by the name of a city. Association with a particular city need not necessarily imply a nearby geographical location, for it may instead refer to an allocation, fixed by tradition or a higher authority (on different strategies for the allocation of seasonal pastures see Swidler 1973: 24–25). We do not yet know where the seasonal grazing grounds of the lower Mesopotamian cities were; on occasions, they may have been far removed from the city. In Arabia pastoralists have been known to travel as much as a thousand kilometers to seasonal pastures (Cole 1973: 115); the story of Abraham’s migration from Ur to Harran, and thence to Canaan, probably derives from patterns of long-distance transhumance. The subject matter of the present poem, the mythical journey of a divine ram to raise flocks in his new home on Mts. fiaÍÍ⁄r and BaÍ⁄r, would match a seasonal migration by pastoralists perfectly. Like the defeat of Ti’⁄mat, Bazi’s removal to Mt. fiaÍÍ⁄r was imag- The Song of Bazi ined to take place annually, as the life of the gods unfolded in counterpart to events on earth. What we have, in my view, is a symbolic myth of transhumance that transfers to the divine plane an annual event of Babylonian life, in which a vast throng of flocks and herders left the cities for extended stays in remote grazing grounds. Unfortunately, the song’s subscript is laconic as well as damaged, so that one does not learn from it whether the song’s context was a temple ritual, a public festival, or some other event. But we do know from other sources that the liturgy of Old Babylonian temple cults employed a standardized corpus of Sumerian litanies. Even in the first millennium most of the liturgical texts chanted inside Esangil, the temple of Mar- 15 duk at Babylon, were in Sumerian. By contrast, all the songs that accompanied his procession through the town to the Ak‹tu temple were in Akkadian; so too were the love lyrics sung around Babylon during a festival of IÍtar. Accordingly one would guess that if an Akkadian song like the present one was performed in a religious context, it was during parts of a festival witnessed by the public. The use of the Akkadian language may indicate that the song was composed in a secular environment; it would certainly have aided public comprehension, if not also participation. However that may be, the subscript of this new composition is clear evidence for the performance of an Old Babylonian narrative poem from south Mesopotamia, something that is itself most welcome. A Tablet of Atram-Óas‹s in Four Columns No. 2 5108 Pls. 5–8 more significant differences, deviating in many details from the text established by Lambert and Millard. The Old Babylonian period was a time when literature in Akkadian had not been marshalled into standard editions. Variant recensions are to be expected and are clearly visible in other well-attested Old Babylonian narrative poems, such as the Epic of GilgameÍ. Certain linguistic features support a date for the present manuscript in the earlier part of the Old Babylonian period (outlined below). The choice of signs is overwhelmingly southern (see also below). Because many of the southern cities so far productive of cuneiform tablets became depopulated in the late eighteenth century, the tablet is unlikely to have been later than this time. This is one hundred years before the date of writing of the set of tablets from Sippar that provide the best-preserved version of the Old Babylonian poem of Atram-Óas‹s. MS 5108 thus becomes the oldest witness to this composition yet extant. This is the upper part of an Old Babylonian tablet inscribed with two columns of text on each side and holding an aggregate of eightythree lines of cuneiform, some badly mutilated. The text is from a version of the poem of Atram-Óas‹s, a composition that tells the story of human life on earth, from the time the gods created mankind as slave-labor to the aftermath of the flood, when they established constraints on human fecundity and life span. Late Old Babylonian tablets from Sippar were the key to the reconstruction of AtramÓas‹s forty years ago by W. G. Lambert and A. R. Millard (1969). Alongside the three tablets written in the late seventeenth century (MSS A, B and C) Lambert and Millard knew of four other Old Babylonian sources, most probably also from Sippar. Two of these are essentially duplicates of the edition in three tablets (MSS D and E); the others exhibit enough variation from it to demonstrate the presence at Sippar of different recensions of the text (MSS F and G). Two further Old Babylonian fragments of Atram-Óas‹s have been published since that time, both bearing witness to the best-known recension. One of them contains the same text as MS D (Groneberg 1991); the other is a duplicate of MSS A and E save for the omission, probably inadvertent, of six lines (Lambert 1991). The present state of reconstruction of the Old Babylonian poem, as well as of the less well-preserved later versions, is clearly seen in the excellent translations of Benjamin R. Foster (2005: 227–80). An exhaustive bibliography of the text, line by line, has been compiled by Dahlia Shehata (2001). In contrast to the near unanimity of the manuscripts from Sippar it is gratifying to observe that the tablet published here offers a glimpse of an edition of the poem with much Content The episodes preserved on this piece fall in the latter part of Tablet II and the opening of Tablet III of the edition from Sippar, when Enlil, enraged by the failure of his previous strategies to diminish the numbers of mankind, decides to bring a flood that will cause its total destruction. It can therefore be compared with parts of Lambert and Millard’s MSS B // D and C. The equivalent passage of the Sippar tablets runs from about Tablet II vi 11 to Tablet III i 10, a sequence of approximately 115 lines of poetry. The new piece held about the same number of lines of poetry, but it breaks poetic lines more often than the Sippar tablets and clearly spread its version of the passage over rather more lines of tablet. 16 A Tablet of Atram-Óas‹s in Four Columns Because the new tablet is not complete, no long stretch of consecutive lines is preserved on it. Instead we have four snatches of text punctuated, in the case of the breaks between columns i–ii and iii–iv, by slightly longer lacunae and, in the case of the gap at columns ii–iii, by a considerable interval. These four fragments of the poem can be described in more detail as follows. 1. Col. i This column begins with the very end of a speech by Enlil, repeated by envoys sent to Ea. In it Enlil recounts how the gods took an oath collectively, but while Anum and he guarded the cosmos above and below, Ea (he claims) subverted the plan. The new text adds to our knowledge of Enlil’s speech, beginning with a previously unknown couplet describing how rains and irrigation water returned to earth (ll. 1–2). When Anum saw the plan had failed, he abandoned his post in the sky, flying away like a bird. The implication is that Adad, released from Anum’s custody, could once more guide his rainstorms across the sky (see the textual note on ii 3). At the same time the rivers overflowed, so that crops grew in the fields, food became available, and mankind was again saved from starvation (3–6). Because of damage to MS D these last two points were previously understood as vetitive commands relating to the future conduct of the gods. The new manuscript shows that they are positive indicative statements, revealing the full extent of mankind’s recovery. The text continues with Ea’s reaction to Enlil’s speech, which adds a few words to what was already known. He sulks in resentment at Enlil’s accusation that he failed to keep his word (7–14). It used to be thought that his reaction included laughter, but a deeper understanding of the vocabulary makes it likely that this is a case of enantiosemy (see below, the textual note on i 9–12). The preserved text compares with MS D vi 11–19. Lines 1–2 and 4 have no counterparts in the Sippar text and l. 15 cannot yet be placed; MS D vi 12 is not visible in the present version. 17 2. Col. ii Ea has returned to the gods’ assembly to account for his actions. The narrative formula that introduces his speech (ll. 1–2) is not new to the Old Babylonian version, but the rest is. Ea does not offer an apology, as some have supposed, for he was not guilty. He asserts instead that there was no need to guard the sky and the earth, when he himself was strictly controlled by the gods wherever he went (3–6). He goes on to explain that two watery beings, Flood (Mal›ku = Omorka?) and Sea (Ti’⁄mat), whose job it was to keep the fish of the deep behind locked doors, had fought and broken the gate’s bolt, so that fish had escaped and mankind was saved from famine (7–12). Far from being at fault, Ea had punished the miscreants (13–15). Enlil begins to answer, but his speech is lost (16–18). This passage is absent from the Sippar text, where it should fall in the lacuna at the top of MS D vii. It is possible that ll. 1–2 are the counterparts to the last two lines of MS D vi, which, though very damaged, can be read as an exactly parallel couplet introducing direct speech, subject Ea, addressee Enlil (so already Klein 1990: 79 n. 5). However, this would make the missing lower part of col. i the counterpart to only eight lines of Sippar text (MS D vi 23–30). This is not enough, even if spread over sixteen lines of tablet. Either the new piece held a fuller text or the conversation contained more exchanges between Ea and Enlil and ll. 1–2 represent a repetition of the couplet a little later in the poem. A different account of this episode appears in the later, Standard Babylonian version, where Ea’s speech is related to Enlil by messengers returning from visiting him (MS x rev. ii 14–43). There Ea himself, in the company of his laÓmu-monsters, guards the fish in a great “seanet” (naÓbalu tâmti) secured with a bar (Íigaru). The fish somehow escape and break the bar that confines them. Ea punishes the guards. 3. Col. iii Ea’s response to Enlil’s speech and the proceedings that follow is to address his fellow gods (ll. 1'–2'). The first part of what he says is already 18 Babylonian Literary Texts well preserved on MSS B and D. Clearly it has been proposed that Ea engineer a deluge to wipe out mankind. He claims not to understand who or what the Deluge is and that, in any case, the skill to make one lies with Enlil (3'–6'). But then the god who knows all arts cannot resist outlining the way to bring about the great inundation through the combined effort of many deities, and sets as a deadline the next new moon (7'–17'). As often in mythology, the idea was Enlil’s, the approval was the gods’, but Ea comes up with the practical knowledge to turn their plan into reality. The end of Ea’s speech is lost on MS D and fragmentary on the new tablet (18'–20'). It and the following passage of narrative concerning Atram-Óas‹s (21'–25') are hard to understand. This column runs parallel to MSS B // D vii 40–53 and continues into the lacuna at the top of col. viii of those manuscripts. The two couplets BD vii 42–43 and 48–50 are absent from the version represented by the new piece. 4. Col. iv When the text resumes, Ea is warning AtramÓas‹s that the gods, urged on by Enlil, have decreed mankind’s annihilation in the Deluge (ll. 1'–7'). Atram-Óas‹s weeps (8'–10'). Ea sympathizes but then tells Atram-Óas‹s that he has a task before him, one that he does not yet know how to do (11'–19'). With that the tablet ends. Col. iv of the new piece sets in at MSS B // D vii 33, though the two lines are not exact matches (see further the note below). Both versions of the poem agree on the next couplet (iv 2'–3' // BD viii 34–35). Thereafter they diverge. The last two lines of Tablet II of the Sippar text are the standard narrative formula for introducing direct speech, subject AtramÓas‹s, addressee Ea (BD viii 36–37). Lines 5'–7' of the new text add an extra couplet to Ea’s speech. Thereafter Atram-Óas‹s’s reaction is not yet to speak but as described above. Something like these lines may have occupied the broken beginning of Tablet III of the Sippar text. That being so, it is improbable that in III i 13 AtramÓas‹s begs Ea to explain the meaning of a dream; rather he must ask what Ea means when he talks enigmatically of this task that he does not yet know. Some alternative must be sought for the conventional restoration [Ía Íu-ut-ti] in that line; perhaps [Ía a-wa-ti-ka w]u-ud-di-a qé-re-eb-Ía “Teach me the meaning [of what you said!]” The phrase Ea uses to describe the task set before his servant is ana aÍrim turrum, an expression that reports the restoration of a previous state. The task at hand is to build the ark to save human and animal life and the arts of civilization (as recounted in Tablet III of the edition from Sippar, MS C). The choice of phrase has the implication that only thus can Atram-Óas‹s ensure that the destruction wrought by the Deluge will be followed by the restoration of the status quo ante. The ark worked as a plan to thwart Enlil, but Ea did not succeed fully in restoring the antediluvian world. According to the very end of the poem, human life was recreated not exactly but in compromised form, with a much reduced life expectancy. Aspects of Language and Writing The poem of Atram-Óas‹s is known for its use of hymno-epic style. In this new piece examples of elevated literary forms are the terminative suffix: bub›tiÍ, tiw‹tiÍ (i 4), kam⁄siÍ (iv 9'), and a superfluous anaptyctic vowel: turraÍu (iv 18') instead of t›rÍu. The antiquity of the new text vis-à-vis the Sippar recensions is asserted by the language: indicative of an older period are the vowel class of ep¤Íum: ippeÍ (ii 9, iv 4'), nippeÍ (iv 7') v. later ippuÍ, nippuÍ, and the second-person masculine singular form of the stative conjugation in pars⁄ti: kamÍ⁄ti (iv 14') instead of pars⁄ta. As a piece of calligraphy the tablet is not the product of a first-rate scribe. Its appearance is marred by the use of a split stylus, its authority compromised by errors of spelling (ii 6, iii 11', iv 14) and graver corruptions (see the notes on i 5– 6 and iv 1'). In col. iv irregular divisions of the poetic line add to the decipherer’s problems. Orthographies roughly diagnostic of provenance are the spelling of the syllables /pi/ and /si/ with the signs pi and sí, which in archival documents is southern practice: e.g. i-te-pi-ir (i 6), i-Óu-as-sí (i 13), ka-ma-s[í-i]Í (iv 9'). The sign el is used for the syllable /il/, which may be a further indication of early Old Babylonian date. Mimation is not written with any consistency; A Tablet of Atram-Óas‹s in Four Columns geminated consonants are also inconsistently marked. As for vowel length, final vowels that are the result of the contraction of two vowels (v) are written plene, as usual. So too are final vowels of verbs based on finally weak roots: li-irde-e (iii 11'), ta-ba-ki-i (iv 13), ti-di-i (iv 19'), and final vowels that are long by inflection: Ía-ma-’ìi ((i 1), Ía-mi-iˆ , ú-ga-ru-ú (i 3), ni-Íi-i (i 4, 6), i-lii (i 8, 11), iÍ-bi-ru-[ú] (ii 10), i-lu-ú (iv 2'), am-raa (iii 15'), ú-ba-lu-u (iv 7'); but there are excep- 19 tions in the latter category: ti-im-mi (iii 7') and ni-Íi (iv 4'). A few short vowels are written plene in final syllables: wa-Ía-ba-a-am (i 10), wa-né-Íu-ú (i 13), ma-lu-ku-ú (ii 13), ka-ki-ku-nu-ú (iii 15'), ri-ig-ma-a-am (iii 19'), Íi-ip-ru-ú (iv 16'). The text displays two “broken” orthographies of the kind collected by Brigitte Groneberg: i-Óu-as(us4)-sí (i 13) for ‹Óussi, ga-ma-er-tam (iv 2') for gamertam; see Groneberg 1980b. TRANSLITERATION col. i 1 [ip]-‚pa-ri!(ar)Ÿ-iÍ AN-nu-um i-na Ía-ma-’ì-i 2 [m]i-lu-um i-na na-‚ag-bi-imŸ ú-ka-‚ti-imŸ / ‰[e-ra r]a-ap-Ía 3 Ía-mi-i im-lu-ú ú-ga-ru-ú 4 ‚buŸ-b[u]-ti-iÍ ni-Íi-i ti-wi-ti-iÍ / ma-tim 5 a-na ka-ni-i ak-la-am te-ni-Íe-tum 6 i-te-pi-ir-ni nu-Óu-uÍ ni-Íi-i / a-sà-na-an-na 7 i-lu-um i-ta-Íu-uÍ wa-Ía-ba-am 8 a-na pu-úÓ-ri Ía i-li-i 9 ‰i-iÓ-tum i-ku-ul-Íu 10 é-a i-ta-Íu-uÍ wa-Ía-ba-a-am 11 a-na pu-úÓ-ri-im Ía i-li-i 12 ‰i-iÓ-tum i-ku-ul-Íu 13 i-Óu-us4-sí te-ki-ta-am 14 ‚iŸ-na {ras.} wa-né-Íu-ú 15 [x x x]-ir k[u-m]u-ú-um 16 . . . ]x 17 . . . ]x 18 ...]x 19 . . . ]-ma 20 . . . de]n-líl? (about half a column lost) TRANSLATION col. i 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 10 11 13 15ff. (gap) “Anum flew [off] from the sky, the floodwaters from the deep covered the broad plain. The meadowland filled with vegetation, for the sustenance of the people, for the provender of the land. The people were eating(!) bread, feeding themselves on barley, the people’s abundance.” The god grew annoyed with sitting there, at the gods’ assembly 9 vexation consumed him; Ea grew annoyed with sitting there, at the gods’ assembly 12 vexation consumed him. He became defiant 14 in his obstinacy, . . . too fragmentary for translation Sippar text // D vi 11 // D vi 13 // D vi 14 // D vi 15 // D vi 16 // D vi 17 // D vi 18 // D vi 19 // D vi 22? 20 Babylonian Literary Texts col. ii 1 é-a pa-a-Íu [i-pu-Ía-am-ma] 2 i-sà-[q]á-ra-a[m a-n]a qú-r[a-di den-líl] 3 mi-nam i-‚‰ur AN-nuŸ-um dadad(iÍkur) [e-le-nu] 4 ù at-ta mi-nam ta-‰ú-u[r er-‰e-tam] / Ía-ap-li-[tam] 5 a-Ía-ar a-na-ku al-li-k[u-ma] 6 a-Ói!(I°) i-na ka-li-ku-nu Ía-[da-at?] 7 iÍ-ti-nu-um-ma ú-ki-e[l] 8 Ía-ar nu-n[i] 9 ta-Óa-za-am i-pe-iÍ Í[a-nu-um] 10 Íi-ga-ra-am iÍ-bi-ru-[ú] 11 ra-bi-a-[am] 12 ka-bi-it-ma nu-nu-um ‚úŸ-[‰i?-ma] / iÓ-t[a-li-iq] 13 a-tu-ú-ma ma-lu-[k]u-ú / ti-a-am-tum 14 Íe-er-tam aÍ-ta-ka-an 15 Íu-nu-ti ú-‚ÍaŸ-[a]r-di d en-líl pa-a-Íu i-[pu]-Ía-am-ma 16 17 i-sà-qá-ra-am [a-na] ‚éŸ-[a] 18 Ía at-ta-ma t[u- . . . ] / [ . . . ] 19 illegible traces (long gap) col. iii 1' ‚é-a pa-a-Íu iŸ-[pu-Ía-am-ma i-sà-qá-ra] 2' a-na i-li-[i aÓ-Ói-Íu] 3' a-bu-ba-am Í[a ta-qá-ba-ni-ni] 4' ma-an-nu-um Íu-[ú a-na-ku ú-ul i-de] 5' a-na-ku-ú-m[a ú-la-ad a-bu-ba-am] 6' i-ba-aÍ-Íi Íi-[pi-ir-Íu it-ti den-líl] 7' ti-im-mi d[er-ra-ka-al?] 8' li-na-[sí-iÓ] 9' li-el-li-ik [dnin-urta mi-iÓ-ri?] 10' li-ip-[ˇù-úr?] 11' li-ir-de-e giÍguzalûm(gu.‚zaŸ.<lá>) ‚ÍaŸ [dadad(iÍkur)] 12' mu-ú li-ba-al-ki-t[u] 13' a-ru-r[u-u]m li-ir-p[i-i]Í? 14' [x x] i tu-‚‰aŸ-ab-<bi> Ía-a[p-la-tim?] 15' ‚amŸ-ra-‚aŸ ka-ki-ku-nu-ú a-t[a-ad-nam?] 16' a-na ú-um wa-‚arŸ-Ó[i-im] 17' e-pi-iÍ Íi-[ip-ra-am] 18' ú-la-nu-um da[dad(iÍkur) . . . ] 19' ‚riŸ-ig-ma-‚aŸ-a[m . . . ] 20' e-pi-[iÍ? . . . ] 21' Íu-ú wa-a[t-ra-am-Óa-sí-i-sí] 22' Íi-ip-ra-am [ . . . ] 23' i-na iÍ-x[ . . . ] 24' ú-uÍ-Ía?(TA)-x[ . . . ] 25' i-x-[x (x)] (about half a column lost) // D vi 31? // D vi 32? // D v 16 // 30 // vi 25 // D v 17 // 31 // vi 26 // D v 18 // 32 // vi 27 // BD vii 40 // BD vii 41 // BD vii 44 // BD vii 45 // BD vii 46 // BD vii 47 // BD vii 51 // BD vii 52 // BD vii 53 // B vii 54 m[u- A Tablet of Atram-Óas‹s in Four Columns col. ii 1 Ea [opened] his mouth, 2 saying to the hero [Enlil:] 3 “Why did Anum guard Adad [above,] 4 and why did you guard the nether [earth?] 5 Where I myself did go, 6 by all of you my arm was [tugged(?).]1 7 A certain one there was that held 8 a myriad fish, 9 a second began to start a fight. 10 They broke the 11 great 10 bolt; 12 being a great mass, the fish got [out and] escaped. 13 It was the gatekeepers: Flood(?) (and) Sea! 14 I imposed retribution, 15 I had it pursue them.” 16 Enlil opened his mouth, 17 saying [to] Ea: 18 “That which you [ . . . (long gap) col. iii 1' Ea [opened] his mouth, [saying] 2' to the gods, [his brothers:] 3' “The Deluge that [you command of me,] 4' [I do not know] what (lit.: who) it is! 5' Am I [to sire a Deluge?] 6' this task belongs [with Enlil.] 7' [Errakal(?)] 8' should pull [out] 7' the (mooring)-stakes, 9' [Ninurta] should go, 10' should [open 9' the dams(?)!] 11' Let the throne-bearer(!) of [Adad] follow, 12' let the waters rebel, 13' the wellsprings multiply! 14' May [the goddess(?) . . . ] scan(!) the nether [regions!] 15' Behold! I have [provided(?)] you (pl.) with weapons. 16' By the day of the new moon 17' do this [task,] 18' thenceforth [let] Adad [ . . . ] 19' [His] thunder [ . . . . . . ,] 20' do [ . . . . . . ]” 21' He, Atram-[Óas‹s . . . ,] 22' the task [ . . . . . . ] 23' In . . . [ . . . . . . ] (gap) 1 Or, reading ina kalêkunu, “as you held (me) back, my arm was [tugged(?)].” 21 Babylonian Literary Texts 22 col. iv 1' 2' 3' 5' 8' 11' 12' 13' 14' 16' ‚i-na-an-na a-a iÍ-me-a a-na a-wa-/at ta-<qabbû> i-lu-ú iq-bu-ú ga-ma-er-tam Íi-ip-ra-am le-em-nam 4' a-na ni-Íi i-pe-iÍ den-líl i-na pu-úÓ-ri-im iq-bu-ú 6' a-bu-ba-am a-na ú-um wa-ar-Ói-im 7' {ú-ba-lu-ú} ni-pe-iÍ / Íi-ip-ra-am wa-at-‚ra-amŸ-Óa-sí-‚iŸ-sí 9' ka-ma-s[í-i]Í ma-Óa-ar é-a 10' i-la-ka ‚diŸ-[ma]-‚aŸ-Íu é-a pa-a-Íu i-pu-‚ÍaŸ-am-ma i-sà-qá-ra-am-ma a-na wa-ar-di-/Íu iÍ-ti-ta-am a-‚na niŸ-Íi / [t]a-‚baŸ-ki-i Ía-ni-ta-‚amŸ ka-am-Ía!(TA)-ti 15' a-di-ri at-‚taŸ i-ba-aÍ-Íi Íi-ip-ru-ú 17' a-na e-pe-Íi-im at-ta 18' a-na aÍ-ri-im tu-ra-Íu 19' la ti-di-i cf. BD viii 33 // BD viii 34 // BD viii 35 left edge [ . . . ] im.dub col. iv 1' “Now, let them not listen to the word that you [say.] 2' The gods commanded an annihilation, 3' a wicked thing 4' Enlil will do to the people. 5' In the assembly they commanded 6' the Deluge, (saying) ‘By the day of the new moon 7' we shall do the task’.”1 8' Atram-Óas‹s, 9' as he was kneeling there, in the presence of Ea 10' his tears were flowing. 11' Ea opened his mouth, 12' saying to his servant: 13' “For one thing you are weeping for the people, 14' for another, you are kneeling 15' (as) one who fears me. 16' There is a task 17' to be done, but you, 19' you know not 18' how to accomplish it.” 1 This translation omits ubbal›, which, as argued in the note on this line, is an intrusion. With it the line is comprehensible but decidedly inferior: “by the day of the new moon they will bring (it), (saying) ‘We shall do the task.” A Tablet of Atram-Óas‹s in Four Columns 23 NOTES i 3. MS D vi 11 transposes subject and object: [Ía-am-mu] im-lu-ú ú-ga-ra. i 4. This line occurs earlier in the Sippar text, at I 339. i 5–6. These lines correspond to MS D vi 13– 14, which can now be seen to be narrative and positive, rather than prohibitive: restore [i-ik]-ka-la-nim te-ni-Íe-[t]u! / [i-t]eep-pí-ra-nim nu-Óu-uÍ ni-Íi dNAGA. In our text a-na ka-ni-i is evidently corrupt for ikkal⁄ni, i-te-pi-ir-ni for ‹teppir⁄ni. This is ep¤rum in the reflexive I/2 stem. The spelling a-sà-na-an-na is for asnan “cereal”; usually this word occurs in the absolute state, later spelled ás/áÍ/aÍ-na-an, but here it exhibits a case ending. MS D’s dNAGA is the synonym niss⁄ba. i 7. The restorations of MS D vi set out in the preceding note show that there is not space for [i-lu]-ma (Lambert and Millard) in MS D vi 15; read [i]-lu! i 9–12. The word ‰‹Ótum means both “laughter” and “distress,” an example of “semantic polarity” in Akkadian first noted by Klaas Veenhof (1975–76). Most previous translations have supposed that Ea laughed (e.g. Lambert and Millard 1969: 83, von Soden 1994: 635, Alster 2006: 34) but I follow the lead of Veenhof, who first translated ‰‹Ótum in this passage as “worry/distress” (Veenhof 1975–76: 108, also Dalley 1989: 28, Foster 2005 [1993]: 245). As Jordan Finkin notes in his critical study of what are now called “enantiosemes,” Theodor Nöldeke’s early study of this linguistic phenomenon in the Semitic languages (Arabic a√d⁄d) found the language of emotions to be notably productive in this regard and classified examples as Gemütsbewegungen und Äußerungen solcher (Finkin 2005: 377, adding by way of summary that “there seems to be a tendency for emotional terminology to express both ends of a spectrum of feeling”). i 13–14. MS D vi 19 has instead [‹Óussi] te-ki-ta ina qá-ti-Íu, lit. “[He took] defiance in his hand,” where the last word is a substitution that can be attributed to uncomprehending interference. The verb wanûm was surely very rare in Old Babylonian; it is previously attested only in Old Assyrian, where the cognate verbal adjective conveys the proverbial attribute of donkeys. ii 1–2. These lines may be matched with MS D vi 31–32, which can be read [den-ki pa-a-Íu] i-‚pu-Ía-am-maŸ / [is-sà-qar a-na q]ú-ra-[di] ‚den-lílŸ. ii 3. The verb in this line is singular, as it is wherever the line occurs in the Old Babylonian poem (II v 16, 30, vi 25: i‰-‰ú-ur). Most translators uniformly take Adad as a joint subject of i‰‰ur with Anum, evidently deferring to the Standard Babylonian version, where the verb is indeed plural (MS x rev. i 8, ii 32: i‰-‰u-ru; ii 2, 9: i-na-a‰-‰a-ru etc.). With Claus Wilcke I assume instead that the different sources exhibit different versions of the story, and that the singular verb has a singular subject. Adad is thus the object: Anum’s task is to guard the stormgod, so preventing him from sending rain from the sky (Wilcke 1997a: 115, Schwemer 2001: 422). ii 8. Fish measured by the Í⁄r occur in the Standard Babylonian version, which is much expanded at this point but still fragmentary (MS x rev. ii 21 // 37). ii 10–11. A late equivalent of this line is MS x rev. ii 23 // 39: [Íá Íi-ga]-ru iÍ-bi-ru mi-Íil-Íu ii 12. A great shoal of fish is meant: the singular n›num is evidently collective. ii 13. The word read ma-lu-ku-ú denotes in the present context some personified force of nature, partner of the female Sea, who with her guarded the gates that held back the fish. It brings to mind Diri IV 194–95: ma-[lu-ug] [AMA.LUL] = ma-lu-uk-tum, <ma>-ru-uk-tum, a term for goddess; perhaps mal›ku is the masculine counterpart of 24 Babylonian Literary Texts these words. The watery context raises the possibility that here is the Babylonian name that lies behind Berossus’s Omorka, said by him to be the female ruler of the sea in obvious confusion with Ti’⁄mat (Jacoby 1958: 371 ’V+kl(t)g_). The addition in Greek of a vocalic onset and the exchange of liquid consonant would not be an obstacle to such an etymology. Nor would it be discounted by Wolfram von Soden’s thesis that Omorka’s origin lay in a loanword emaruk(ku) from Sum. amaru “deluge” (AHw 211), repeated by G. Komoróczy (1973: 131–32) and Takayoshi Oshima (2003: 110). Barry Eichler’s etymology of Sum. amaru analyzed it as a compound, “a ‘water’ + mar-ru10 ‘wind’” (1992: 94 n. 63), which would discount loans with final /k/, whether mal›ku or emarukku. However, that Sum. amaru has a final /k/ is demonstrated by Gudea Cyl. A i 18: SIG.ba.ni:a.Íè a.ma.ru.kam “for his lower part he was a deluge” (similarly Edzard 1997: 71), and by the idiom a.ma.ru.kam “immediately,” lit. “it is the deluge!” This /k/ suggests that amaru is a genitive compound, perhaps, to adapt Eichler, a + mar.ru10-ak “water of tempest.” Both emarukku and our mal›ku are thus viable loanwords from the Sumerian word. The Standard Babylonian version of this line shows heavy editorial intervention that has changed its meaning almost completely (MS x rev. ii 24): [ . . . a]d-du-ku ma-a‰-‰a-ru tam-ti. ii 14–15. The damaged signs read ú-Ía-ar-di might also be read ú-u[Í]-re-di, III/II stem. The Standard Babylonian counterpart to this line stretches over three lines (MS x rev. ii 25–27): [Íèr-ta áÍ]-kun-Íu-nu-ti e-ninÍu-nu-ti / [ul-tu-ma?] e-ni-nu-Íu-nu-ti / [úter?]-ma Íèr-ta e-mi-id. iii 6'. The line is partly transposed on MSS B // D vii 47: Íi-pí-ir-Íu i-ba-aÍ-Íi it-[ti den-líl]. iii 7'. The restoration is made from MSS B // D vii 51, where a synonym of timm‹ is used: ta-ar-ku-ul-li der-[ra-ka-al li-na-si-iÓ] (cf. SB Gilg XI 102: tar-kul-li dèr-ra-kal i-na-as-saÓ). iii 9'–10'. The line is restored after SB Gilg XI 103: il-lak dnin-urta mi-iÓ-ri ú-Íar-di. There are other possibilities for the second verb, counterpart to uÍardi, besides lip[ˇur]; an obvious alternative is lip[te]. iii 11'. Cf. SB Gilg XI 101, where fiullat and °aniÍ are the plural guzalûmeÍ who herald the coming of the storm-god. iii 13'. The word ar›rum signifies a source of water, here cosmic; cf. Malku II 54–56: aru-ru = mû(a)meÍ Íap-lu-tum “subterranean water,” mu-‰e-e me-e “outflow of water,” mu-u “water.” iii 16'–17'. That the onslaught of the Deluge was set for the day of the new moon was already known from the narrative (III ii 39). iii 24'. Apparently not ú-uÍ-Ía-ab, or any other form of waÍ⁄bum. iv 1'. The feminine plural subject of iÍme’⁄ must be Atram-Óas‹s’s people (niÍ›), who will disregard his cryptic warnings of the coming flood. In MS D the line is slightly different, and the advice there is to ignore what the elders will say, presumably when they observe Atram-Óas‹s building his ark (MS D vi 33): ¤ taÍmi’a ana Íi-‚iŸ-[bu-tim]. Both lines seem a bit premature as the text stands, for Ea’s instructions to build a boat and his cryptic warning do not occur until the next episode (OB III col. i). Note the calamitous end to the line, where the scribe failed to complete taqabbû, either through corruption or for lack of room. iv 4'. The verb ippeÍ is present-future; so too must be i-pu-uÍ in MS D viii 35. iv 5'–6'. For ab›bam qabûm see above, iii 3' and parallels. iv 6'–7'. The clause ana ›m warÓim nippeÍ Íipram repeats, in the 1st pl. as the gods’ assent, the command of Enlil voiced in iii 16'–17': ana ›m warÓim epiÍ Íi[pram]. Thereby the extent of the poetic line is established, and ubbal› identified as a corrupt intrusion. iv 9'–10'. The clause maÓar Ea illak⁄ dim⁄Íu is a variation on a much used poetic line; for A Tablet of Atram-Óas‹s in Four Columns lines on the same pattern see George 2003: 839 and 2007: 252. The parallels establish the boundaries of the poetic line. iv 14'. If not a spelling error, ka-am-ta-ti may be an example of the interchange of /Í/ and /t/ (see the remarks of Lambert and Millard 1969: 165 sub viii 14). 25 A Short Excerpt from Atram-Óas‹s No. 3 2950 Pls. 9–10 his blood congeals, as if ice flows in his veins, and his insides are blocked, perhaps an indication of imperviousness to pity. The second couplet describes the suffering of animals and humans: for lack of food, their stomachs hurt, and the only sound they can make is to weep (3–4). The context is thus not the aftermath of the Deluge, which only Atram-Óas‹s survived, but the famine that resulted from one or other of Enlil’s earlier strategies for humankind’s destruction. In the third couplet, Atram-Óas‹s notices the problem and reports it to Ea (5–6). This couplet is structurally parallel to other lines that record how Atram-Óas‹s sought the advice of his mentor (e.g. Enki in OB I 364–9), but is a much shorter narrative formula. This small tablet survives only in its upper part, which holds on its very worn surface a short excerpt of ten lines from an Old Babylonian version of the poem of Atram-Óas‹s. The sage’s name is written Watram-Óas‹s, and his divine mentor is Ea, not Enki. Content The lines come from one of the episodes in which Enlil inflicts suffering on humankind and Atram-Óas‹s seeks Ea’s help to avert catastrophe. Only the first three couplets of the excerpt are deciphered. In the first, the topic is Enlil’s intransigence (ll. 1–2). This is clear from the second line, ina libb‹Íu ul imtallik, which expresses Enlil’s failure to consider the consequences of his actions. The same motif occurs in the best-preserved version of the poem, when the Flood has all but wiped out humankind (III iii 53, ed. Lambert and Millard 1969: 96): Ía la im-ta-al-ku-ma iÍ-ku-nu a-[bu-ba] “who did not take counsel, but brought about the Deluge.” From there very similar lines find their way into the Epic of GilgameÍ (SB XI 170, 184). The first line of the couplet is without parallel; it seems to describe the hardening of Enlil’s heart against his people. The line is couched in vocabulary that is almost medical: Aspects of Language and Writing Mimation occurs only where CVC-signs are available; geminated consonants are written plene, except in issaqqaram (l. 8). As in the preceding text, the Auslaut of a verb from a finally weak root is written plene, i-ba-ak-ki-i (6); spellings follow southern conventions: i-ip-pe-eÍ, piÍa (5), wa-at-ra-am-Óa-sí-is (7), is-sà-qá-ra-am (8); and the verb ep¤Íum is conjugated in the Ablautclass, present-future ippeÍ (5). TRANSLITERATION obv. 1 3 4 6 7 [ik-ka-a‰?]-‰a-‚ar daŸ-mu 2 e-‚síŸ-il ka-ar-Íu {x} i-na li-ib-bi-Íu ú-ul im-ta-[al-l]i-‚ikŸ e-em-re-et ú-ma-am-tum 5 ú-ul i-ip-pe-eÍ ‚piŸ-Ía e-em-re-‚etŸ a-wi-l[u-tum] i-ba-‚ak-ki-iŸ / r[i-g]im-Ía i-nu-‚miŸ-Íu ‚ap-kaŸ-[al-l]um wa-at-ra-‚am-Óa-sí-isŸ 8 i-mu-ur is-sà-‚qá-raŸ-am a-na é-a / be-‚lí-ÍuŸ 26 A Short Excerpt from Atram-Óas‹s 9 10 11 gap rev. 1' 1 3 4 6 7 9ff. 27 [x x] x x x x x x x x x x [x x x] x x Óe e ri x x pa Íi traces illegible traces TRANSLATION Blood congealed(?), mind being bloated, he was not taking counsel with his own self. Livestock had stomach-cramp, 5 unable to make any sound, humankind had stomach-cramp, weeping (as) its sound. Then the sage Atram-Óas‹s 8 saw, he spoke to Ea, his lord: undeciphered 2 NOTE 2. I do not think better sense would come by reading e-‰í-il karÍu “the mind was lame.” The phrase esil karÍum is comparable to libbu(Íà) e-sil, which is found in a list of diseases (CT 19 3 i 6). For the literal meaning of libbum es¤lum see En›ma eliÍ IV 100: in- né-sil lìb-ba-Íá-ma “her insides became bloated,” a phrase that describes Ti’⁄mat’s discomfort when Marduk filled her full of wind. In our passage, the expression is metaphorical: Enlil’s mind (karÍum) is full of wind, rendering it immobile and unmoving. A Fragment of GilgameÍ No. 4 2652/5 This fragment from the middle of a single-column tablet holds on its obverse the remains of eight lines and on its reverse damaged traces of five further lines. It was previously published in my critical edition of the Babylonian GilgameÍ as OB Schøyen1 (George 2003: 219–24 and pl. 7). The piece has since been baked but it was already very legible, and no new readings have emerged as a result of its conservation. One Pls. 11–12 minor improvement has been made to the copy of the obverse, where the tail of the vertical wedge of ma is now visible at the end of l. 5', confirming the reading ri-bi-‚tu maŸ-[tim]. The cuneiform is reproduced in this volume in order to report this addition to knowledge, but it is unnecessary to repeat the edition, to which I have nothing to add. 28 GilgameÍ’s Journey to the Cedar Forest No. 5 3025 Pls. 13–16 the first edition of the text, the present version mentions the “land of Ebla” in the narrative of GilgameÍ and Enkidu’s journey to the Cedar Forest: Íunu iˇÓû ana m⁄t-Ibla (26). Formerly I thought this was the goal of their journey and noted that the “location of Ebla’s forest was more likely to have been on nearby Mount Amanus than in the Lebanon ranges” (George 2003: 226).1 However, later in the narrative it is now possible to read what seems to be another place name, °amran, written Óa-am-ra-an (55), where the heroes rest after running all day and all night. The next couplet describes °amran as a mountain or land inhabited by Amorites, i.e. in Syria (56), where °uwawa’s roar can be heard in the distance (57). This place would thus appear to be nearer the ultimate goal of the heroes’ journey, and clearly far from Babylonia, in or beyond the “land of Ebla.” But, while °amran is an attested toponym elsewhere, no mountain or land of this name is known in Old Babylonian Syria, and for the moment it remains an enigma. In the light of the significant additions to knowledge arising during the past few years, it has been thought desirable to give the text here in its entirety, complete with a revised translation. For an introduction to the text and further philological notes see still the first edition. This tablet was first published in my critical edition of the Babylonian GilgameÍ as OB Schøyen2 (George 2003: 224–40 and pls. 8–9). It contains 84 lines from an Old Babylonian version of the epic, describing the approach of GilgameÍ and Enkidu to the Cedar Forest, and relating two of the ominous dreams that GilgameÍ saw en route. Studying the tablet in the company of the Schøyen Collection’s other Old Babylonian literary texts reveals that it is similar enough, physically and in its untidy, angular style of ductus, to MS 3285 (Text No. 10), to raise a suspicion that the two pieces stem from the same source. Since MS 3025 was first copied it has been baked and cleaned, with the result that more text can be read. Minor improvements have been made to the copy of the obverse in ll. 18, 24, 26–30, 33–38, 40, 42. The tablet’s bottom edge is now easier to read, but ll. 46–48 still present some unsolved problems. On the reverse, where damage is more extensive, greater gains have been made. Lines 61–62 and 69–70 have been revealed as parallel couplets, and ll. 51, 55, 56, 78–81 and 83 have also been fully conquered. In addition, collation has yielded small but important results in ll. 58, 60, 63, 72 and 74. At the same time, the reaction of other scholars and my own second thoughts have led me to return to some readings, and to revise the edition further in ll. 1b, 6, 7, 9, 18 and 38. The new readings are annotated in the notes below, which also incorporate addenda already published (George 2004). One important new reading affects our understanding of the location of °uwawa’s cedar mountain in this version of the poem of GilgameÍ. Other versions of the epic, Old and Standard Babylonian, place °uwawa-°umbaba in Lebanon. As noted in the introduction to 1 29 To the discussion of Ebla as a source of cedar in Sumerian literature (George 2003: 225–26), add Gudea Statue B v 54, which tells of various woods Óur.sag ib.la.ta “from the mountain range of Ebla” (ed. Edzard 1997: 33). 30 Babylonian Literary Texts TRANSLITERATION obv. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 sa-ki-ip ni-il Íu-na-tam mu-Íi-ia-tum bi-l[a?] {x} i-na qá-ab-li-tim Íi-‚itŸ-ta-Íu ú-ga-al-li-is-sú it-bé i-ta-wa-a a-na ib-ri-Íu ib-ri ‚aŸ-ta-mar Íu-ut-tam am-mi-‚nimŸ la te-ed-ki-a-ni ma-di-‚iÍ pa-al-ÓaŸ-[at] i-na bu-di-ia e-mi-da-am Ía-di-a-am Ía-du-um i-qù-pa-am-ma i-se-Óa-an-[ni] bi-ir-ki-ia ‚il-taŸ-wi lu-tum a-Ói-ia Ía-lum-ma-‚tumŸ ud-da-an-ni-in iÍ-te-en eˇ-lum la-bi-‚iÍŸ [iˇ-Ó]e-a-am i-na ma-tim na-wi-ir-ma d[u-u]m-qá-am-ma d[a-mi-iq?] i‰-ba-at-ma ku-bu-ur e-m[u-q]í-ia Ía-ap-la-nu Ía-di-im-ma iÍ-‚ta-al-pa-anŸ-ni d en Íu-ut-tam i-pa-aÍ-Ía-ar iz-za-‚aq-qáŸ-ra-am-‚maŸ a-‚na dŸGIfi i-na-an-na ib-ri Ía ni-il-la-ku-‚ÍumŸ ú-ul Ía-du-um-ma-a nu-uk-ku-ur mi-‚im-maŸ i-na-an-na dÓu-wa Ía ni-‚ilŸ-la-ku-Íu[m ú-u]l Íadûm(kur)-[m]a nu-‚uk-kuŸ-ur m[i-im]-‚maŸ te-en-né-em-mi-da-ma iÍ-ti-a-at te-‚epŸ-pu-uÍ pár-‰a-am Ía mu-tim Íi-‚pi-ir-ti zi-kaŸ-ri ur-ta-a’-a-ab uz-za-‚ÍuŸ e-li-ka ú-la-wa pu-lu-‚uÓŸ-ta-‚ÍuŸ bi-ir-ki-‚kaŸ ù Ía ta-mu-ru-Íu dÍamaÍ(utu)-‚ma Íar-ruŸ i-na u4-mi Ía da-an-na-tim i-‰a-ab-‚baŸ-at qá-at-ka dam-qá-at dGIfi Íu-ut-ta-Íu ‚iÓ-duŸ i-li-i‰ li-‚ib-ba-ÍuŸ-ma ‚pa-nuŸ-Íu ‚itŸ-ta-‚am-ruŸ ma-la-‚akŸ ›makkal(ud.1.‚kamŸ) ‚ÍiŸ-na ù Ía-la-‚Íi-imŸ Íu-nu iˇ-Óu-<ú> a-na ma-ti-ib-‚laŸ i-li-ma dGIfi a-na ‰e-er Íadîm(kur) it-ta-na-ap-la-ás ka-li-Íu-nu ‚ÓurŸ-sa-MI i-na ki-im-‰i-Íu ú-um-mi-dam zu-qá-[a]s-sú Íi-it-tum ra-Ói-a-at ni-Íi im-qù-‚usŸ-sú i-na qá-ab-li-tim Íi-it-ta-Íu ú-ga-‚alŸ-li-is-sú it-bé i-ta-wa-am a-na ib-ri-[Í]u ib-ri a-ta-mar Ía-ni-tam e-li Íu-ut-tim ‚ÍaŸ a-mu-‚ruŸ pa-ni-tim pa-al-‚Óa-atŸ is-si dadad(iÍkur) er-‰e-tum i-ra-am-mu-um u4-mu i’-a-pi-ir ú-‰i ek-le-t[u]m [i]b-ri-‚iqŸ bi-‚irŸ-qum in-na-pí-iÓ i-Ía-tum [n]a-ab-lu iÍ-‚puŸ-ú i-za-‚anŸ-nu-un mu-tum GIfi d GilagameÍ’s Journey to the Cedar Forest 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 1 TRANSLATION GilgameÍ was lying down at rest; “O night, bring me a dream!” In the middle watch of the night he awoke with a start,1 he arose to talk to his friend: “My friend, I have had a dream! Why did you not rouse me? It was very frightening! With my shoulder I propped up a mountain; the mountain collapsed on me, pressing me down. Feebleness enclosed my legs, a radiant brightness overpowered my arms. There was a man, like a lion [he drew] near me, shining brightest in the land and most [comely] in beauty. He took hold of my upper arm, from under the mountain itself he pulled me forth.” Enkidu explained the dream, saying to GilgameÍ: “Now, my friend, the one to whom we go, is he not the mountain? He is something strange! Now, °uwawa to whom we go, is he not the mountain? He is something strange! You and he will come face to face and you will do something unique, the rite of a warrior, the task of a man. He will make his fury rage against you, terror of him will encircle your legs. But the one you saw was King fiamaÍ, in times of peril he will take your hand.” It being favorable, GilgameÍ was happy with his dream, his heart became merry and his face shone bright. A journey of one whole day, two and three, they drew near to the land of Ebla. GilgameÍ climbed up to the top of a hill, he looked around at all the mountains. He rested his chin on his knees, the sleep that spills over people fell on him. In the middle watch of the night he awoke with a start,1 he arose to talk to his friend: “My friend, I have seen another! It was more frightening than the previous dream I had. Adad cried aloud, while the land was rumbling, the day became shrouded, darkness went forth. Lightning flashed down, fire broke out, flames flared up, while death was raining down. Literally: “his sleep startled him.” 31 32 Babylonian Literary Texts 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 edge 46 47 48 rev. 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 a-n[a] ri-gi-im dadad(iÍkur) ‚enŸ-né-Íu a-na-ku i-‚ˇùŸ-ma u4-mu ‚eŸ-mi a-‚alŸ-la-ku ú-ul i-‚deŸ a-di-ma ki-a-am-ma Íu-up-pu-tum ib-te-li i-Ía-tum [n]a-ab-lu im-ta-aq-qù-tu i-‚tuŸ-ru la-a’-mi-iÍ [e]k-le-tum it-ta-wi-ir ilum(dingir)lu[m i]t-‚taŸ-[‰]í x x x x ir-di-a-am-‚ma úŸ-x x [(x)] x [den Íu-ut-ta]m i-pa-aÍ-Ía-[a]r ‚iz-zaŸ-a[q-qá-ra-a]m-ma a-na dGIfi [x x x x ]x-ma dadad(iÍkur) i-‚Ía!Ÿ-ás-[si] [x x x x x]-ma i-ra-aÓ-Óu-ba-ni-{a}-ka [x x x x x] x x x x-ka e-li-Í[u] [x ]x x[ x x ]x-ma i-na-wi-ra i-na-ka x x x [Ía it?-t]a?-ap-pa-Óu-‚kumŸ el-le-‚tumŸ x x x [x n]a-ab-‚liŸ ù ka-ak-[k]i-‚ÍuŸ [t]a-‚ÍaŸ-a[k-k]a-nam a-na di-da-‚al-liŸ da-‚amŸ-[qá Í]u-na-tu-ka ‚iŸ-lum it-<ti>-‚kaŸ ‚Íi-ibŸ-[q]á-‚ti?-ka?Ÿ ‚ta-ka-aÍ-Ía!Ÿ-ad ar-Ói-‚iÍŸ ir-t[a-a]Ó-‰[ú] u4-ma-‚amŸ ù mu-Íi-‚tamŸ a-n[a Ó]a-am-ra-an iˇ-‚ÓuŸ-ú e-re-Íi-im [uÍ?]-‚bu?Ÿ [Ía-a]d a-[mu]-ur-‚ruŸ-um ‚wa-aÍŸ-bu [u4]-mi-‚Ía-amŸ [i]Í-[t]e-né-‚emŸ-mu-ú ‚ri-gim dŸÓu i-[ˇ]ù-‚ÍuŸ-[nu]-‚ti maŸ-a‰-‰[a-r]u e-re-‚nimŸ ‚Ía úŸ-[tá]r-ru k[a-l]i-Íi-na i-‚raŸ-tim [dÓu-wa m]a-a[‰]-‚‰a-ruŸ e-re-nim ‚Ía úŸ-[t]ár-ru ka-li-Íi-na i-ra-tim [den iÍ-Íi] ‚iŸ-ni-[Íu] i-ta-mar e-‚re-namŸ [me-lem-ma]-‚ÍuŸ [k]a-‚ti-im ÓuŸ-ur-sa-ni k[i-ma n]a-‚akŸ-sí-‚imŸ i-ri-‚qùŸ pa-[n]u-Íu i-r[u-ub a-d]i-ir-tum a-na [l]i-ib-[b]i-Í[u] ‚dŸGIfi i[t-b]a-‚la-amŸ pa-ni-Íu iz-za-‚aq-qáŸ-r[a-a]m-ma a-na den ‚am-mi-ni ib-ri i-riŸ-qù pa-nu-k[a] ‚iŸ-r[u-u]b a-di-ir-tum a-n[a l]i-ib-bi-‚kaŸ ‚den pa-ÍuŸ i-pu-Ía-am-m[a i]z-‚za-aq-qá-ra-am-ma a-naŸ dGIfi aÍ-Íi-ma ‚ibŸ-ri i-‚ni-iaŸ a-‚ta-mar e-reŸ-nam me-lem-ma-‚Íu kaŸ-ti-‚imŸ Óur-[s]a-ni ma-an-nu-‚umŸ-[m]a ilam(dingir) Ía-ti ‚i-ge-erŸ-re-Íu ‚Ía daŸ-an-nu ‚kaŸ-ak-ka-Íu i-‚na i-gi-giŸ ‚dŸÓu ‚Ía-tiŸ ni-ge-er-re-[Íu] ‚Ía da-nuŸ-{um} ka-ak-ka-Íu i-na k[i-ib-r]a-‚timŸ ‚ù kiŸ-[a-a]m-‚ma ib-ri iŸ-r[i]-‚qù paŸ-nu-[a] i-ru-[ub] ‚a-diŸ-ir-tum a-na ‚li-ib-bi-iaŸ GilagameÍ’s Journey to the Cedar Forest 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 1 At the sound of Adad I grew bewildered, the day went dark, I knew not where I was going. At long last(?) the fire that flared so high died down, one by one the flames diminished, they turned to embers. The gloom brightened, the god shone forth, . . . he led here and . . . ” [Enkidu] explained the [dream,] saying to GilgameÍ: “[ . . . ] . . . Adad was calling, [ . . . ] and will rage against you. [ . . . ] your . . . against him, [ . . . ] and your eyes will grow bright. [Like(?)] the bright [fire that was] kindled for you, . . . flames and his weapons, 51 you will render into ashes. Your dreams are favorable, a god is with(!) you, you will quickly achieve your plans(?).” On they sped that day and night, to °amran they drew near, on the summit sat down(?), the [mountain] where the Amorite dwells, daily hearing the voice of °uwawa. He watched them, the guardian of the cedar, he that repels every advance,1 [°uwawa, the] guardian of the cedar, he that repels every advance.1 [Enkidu raised] his eyes and saw the cedar, its [splendor] covering the uplands. His face turned pale, like a severed (head), terror entered his heart. GilgameÍ took pity on him, saying to Enkidu: “Why, my friend, did your face turn pale, and terror enter your heart?” Enkidu opened his mouth, saying to GilgameÍ: “I raised my eyes, my friend, and saw the cedar, its splendor covering the uplands. Who can withstand that god, whose weapon is mightiest among the Igigi? Shall we withstand that °uwawa, whose weapon is mightiest in the world? And so, my friend, my face turned pale, terror entered my heart.” Literally, “turns back chests, all of them.” 33 34 Babylonian Literary Texts 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 GI[fi p]a-Íu ‚iŸ-pu-Ía-am-ma iz-za-aq-qá-ra-am-‚ma a-naŸ [de]n ú-u[l li]-‚ib-biŸ iÍ-Íi-a-an-ni-ma ‚iŸ-[na?] le-‚’u5?Ÿ-[t]i?-i[a?] ‚Ía?-am?-Íum?Ÿ iq-bi-a-‚amŸ [al-l]a-ak-mi it-[ti]-‚ka?Ÿ ‚e taŸ-du-ur den ‚ú-‰urŸ ia-a-ti qá-ab-[l]am Ía la ti-du-ú lu-Íe-pi-iÍ l[i?-b]i? nu-ba-at-tam is-ki-pu i-ni-lu! id-[k]a-‚ÍuŸ-ma Íi-it-ta-Íu i-pa-aÍ-Ía-a[r-Í]um -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------‚ib-ri aŸ-ta-mar Ía-lu-uÍ-tam d NOTES 1b. The reading of the word in final position as imperative instead of active was suggested by Khait and Nurullin 2006: 529–30. The last trace is not of -am or ni, however; it is a wedge leaning back from the vertical. 6. The second verb was formerly understood as ‹siÓanni from es¤Óum “to gird.” The parsing from se’û “to push down,” a verb not previously encountered in Old Babylonian, is the suggestion of Khait and Nurullin 2006: 530, who understood it as perfect. I take it as present, ise”ânni, describing the result of the mountain’s collapse. 7. As pointed out by Khait and Nurullin 2006: 530–31, my emendation of lu-tum to puluÓtum in the light of l. 20 was ill-judged, especially since l›tum and birku are found together in Ludlul II 78 and SB GilgameÍ IV 242, as restored in George 2003: 600. 8. For dunnunum in the sense “to overpower” rather than “to strengthen,” see another dream account, SB GilgameÍ VII 171: i‰bat qimm⁄t‹ya udanninanni y⁄Íi “he took hold of my hair, he was too strong for me” (Khait and Nurullin, private communication). 9. Previously I read labiÍ [pal]âm “clad in a royal mantle.” This can still be defended but there are other possibilities. Khait and Nurullin suggest la-bi-i[Í it-b]é-a-am and translate “arose (to me) like a lion” (2006: 531). In the context of wild animals tebûm is a verb of aggression, meaning “to rear up, attack.” The figure in the dream comes to GilgameÍ’s aid, however, and l⁄biÍ tebûm is not in keeping. Khait and Nurullin’s parsing of l⁄biÍ as a modal adverb is a good one, however, adding a further example of such a formation in Old Babylonian to those identified by W. G. Lambert and collected by Mayer 1995: 171 n. 28. If it is the correct parsing, the last word of the line is to be reconstructed as a verb, as they saw, but as [iˇ-Ó]e-a-am rather than [it-b]é-a-am. The broken sign is a better Óe than bé, and the verb ˇeÓûm is less aggressive than tebûm. 18. My former decipherment of the first sign overlooked the fact that the sign BAR was already used with the value pár (if rarely) in the Old Babylonian period. The revised reading and the recovery of the whole line are owed to the brilliance of Khait and Nurullin, who caught the sense of the line and made me revisit it. They read the line as par‰am Ía mutim piÍirti ikkari and translated “a ritual of a man, an exorcism of a plowman,” noted a parallelism between par‰um and piÍertum, mutum and ikkarum and commented that the line offered “an explanation of iÍti⁄t ‘something unique’ that Gilgamesh was supposed to make when he would meet °uwawa, but we can say nothing about its exact meaning” (Khait and Nurullin 2006: 532). What happens when GilgameÍ met °uwawa was a titanic struggle so violent that the very mountain split asunder, and the logical conclusion is that the enigmatic par‰am Ía mutim and the phrase that follows it allude to this extraordinary act of single GilagameÍ’s Journey to the Cedar Forest 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 35 GilgameÍ opened his mouth, saying to Enkidu: “Did not enthusiasm carry me away in the fullness [of my power(?)]? But the sun god(?) said to me, ‘[I shall] go with [you(?).]’ Do not fear, O Enkidu, keep watch on me! I will have myself a battle such as never you knew.” They pitched camp for the night, they lay down; his sleep roused him and he (G.) revealed (his dream) to him (E.): “My friend, I have seen a third!” combat. The former phrase is easier to explain. It evokes the noble sentiment that warfare is a socio-religious duty or rite (par‰um) for able-bodied young men (mutum). This sentiment permeates ancient Mesopotamian literature: in an Old Babylonian poem about Sargon the prospect of battle is articulated by the line [i]-si-nu-um Ía mu-ti in-né-pu-uÍ “the festival of warriors will take place” (ed. Westenholz 1997: 62 l. 19); in Lugale 136 battle is ezen nam. guruÍ.a // i-sin-ni eˇ-lu-ti “the festival of young men”; in Erra I 51 it is said that a-lak ‰¤ri(edin) Ía eˇ-lu-ti ki-i Íá i-sin-nu-um-ma “the young men’s departure for the battlefield is like a time of festival.” Warfare is also described as isinnum “a festival” in the AguÍaya poem (Groneberg 1997: 76 iii 7 // 11) and the Tukult‹-Ninurta epic (Kuk Wong Chang 1981: 99 iiia 20, 106 v 11). While the second of the two phrases is so damaged that the reading piÍerti ikkari cannot be excluded on orthographic grounds, it seemed to me on collation that a better semantic parallel with par‰am Ía mutim can be obtained by reading instead Íipirti zikari. In this phrase Íipirtum is a synonym of Íiprum “task, duty,” and thus restates par‰um but in a more mundane and less idealized way; zikarum is likewise a synonym of mutum, but less literary. In this way the line juxtaposes two phrases that display Babylonian idealism and practice respectively. 38. The sign before an⁄ku was revealed after cleaning to comprise only three wedges, discounting both my former decipherment en-ni-iÍ7 and Khait and Nurullin’s en-né-ˇù (2006: 532–33). I now parse the word in question from eÍûm. This verb is conventionally booked as i/i class, so that the IV/ 1 preterite 1.sg. is expected to be enneÍi, as indeed it is in the Old Babylonian Nar⁄mSîn legend iii 8: a-na-ku es-‚se-ÓiŸ en-né-Íi “I grew confused and bewildered” (ed. Westenholz 1997: 272). The late version of this text has instead forms with final /u/: in l. 88 the indicative es-se-Óu en-né-Íú and in l. 154 the negative imperative la te-(es5)-se-eÓÓu la te-en-neÍ-Íú “be not confused, be not bewildered” (ed. Gurney 1955, cf. Westenholz 1997: 318, 326 l. 156). The sources of the late version are tablets from Sultantepe, where an unexpected quality of final vowel would usually be shrugged off, and from Nineveh, where wrong stem vowels in final position are rare but not unknown (e.g. George 2003: 441 sub t). However, the spelling te-es5-se-eÓ-Óu in l. 154 (MS C, Nineveh) retains in Ifi = es5 a peculiarly Old Babylonian value, so that perhaps the spellings are there faithful to a second-millennium forerunner. Given the present attestation, on an Old Babylonian tablet, of enneÍu instead of enneÍi, it looks as if there was indeed a time when eÍûm was sometimes conjugated as a verb of the u/u class. Another case of a verb exhibiting 36 Babylonian Literary Texts both /u/ and /i/ in final position occurs in the next line. 39. The decipherment i-‚ˇùŸ-ma u4-mu and its translation as “the day went dark” presume OB eˇûm exhibits a vowel class III-u; the phrase should be compared with i-DI u4-mu in three first-millennium copies of Ludlul II 119, understood as ‹ˇi ›mu by Landsberger and others (see especially Cooper 1975). Unless the phrase in the present line is plural, i.e. ‹ˇûma ›m› (which seems improbable), this rare verb evidently exhibits both /u/ and /i/ in final position. It might thus be added to those that switched vowel classes over time (cf. GAG §87bd), but this cannot be confirmed without further attestations. 54–55. New readings reveal that this couplet as a whole is a functional counterpart of ll. 25–26: m⁄lak ›makkal Íina u Íal⁄Íim / Íunu iˇÓû ana m⁄t-Ibla. In the later texts the variation that this tablet shows to have informed the Old Babylonian account of the journey was suppressed in favor of a standardized passage of repetition in which each stage of the journey is introduced by the same couplet (SB IV 4 // 37 // [82] // 123–24): m⁄lak arÓi u Íapatti ina ÍalÍi ›m‹ / iˇÓû ana Íadî Labn⁄nu. On the textual “homogenization” of this part of the poem see further George 2003: 45–47. For °amran see the introduction. 56. The first word can also be read [ma-a]t “land.” 58. The complete decipherment of the context shows that °uwawa, not Enkidu, must be the subject of the double couplet set down in ll. 58–60, and the reading of the verb has been revised to suit this new understanding. The second sign, formerly read [d]e?, is now read DU = ˇù (cf. the 78. 79. 80. 82. 83. 84. shape of DU in ll. 39 and 81). A spelling iˇù-Íu- for iˇˇulÍu- does not presuppose an error, for /l/ can assimilate to a following /Í/ already in Old Babylonian, as it can later: thus a-ka-Íu for akalÍu “his bread” in a bilingual proverb from Nippur (Lambert 1960: 273 l. 2; GAG §34c Ergänzungen); and na-aÍ-Íi for nalÍim “dew” in a love lyric from the reign of AbieÍuÓ (Lambert 1966: 50 l. 11). Preposed ul signifies a rhetorical question: see for comparison SB GilgameÍ III 102–6 and IV 213 and add this instance to the discussion in George 2003: 814. For libbum naÍûm in GilgameÍ see the elders’ caution libbaka naÍ‹ka “your enthusiasm carries you away” in the Yale tablet and later versions of the same episode (OB III 191 // Ass MS y2 obv. 9' // SB II 289). If ÍamÍum is correctly restored as the damaged first word, this line is informed by the theme of fiamaÍ as GilgameÍ’s guide and guardian. The line contains an exception to the rule that GilgameÍ and Enkidu address each other only as ibr‹. The emendation to in‹l› is demanded chiefly because iskip› in‹l› is a narrative variant of the imperative phrase sakip n‹l (l. 1). This line would perhaps better read idkâÍÍ›ma ÍuttaÍu (acc.) ipaÍÍarÍum “he (G.) roused him (E.) in order to reveal his dream to him.” As the text stands, ÍittaÍu seems best parsed as nominative, with Íittum dekûm an idiom describing the interruption of sleep by the nightmare. The discovery of a ruling before this line reveals it to be a genuine catch-line, as suspected on structural grounds in George 2003: 227. Fragments of GilgameÍ’s Journey to the Cedar Forest No. 6 3263 Pls. 17–18 The script of what remains of this tablet is very similar to that of MS 3025 (Text No. 5), which reports the first two of GilgameÍ’s dreams, and the two tablets were physically similar in at least one other respect (see below on Fragment 6). It seems probable that MS 3263 is what is left of a companion piece to MS 3025, all the more so because the abbreviation d en otherwise appears only in MS 3025. Because MS 3025 holds the first two dreams, it further seems likely that MS 3263 is its sequel, and began with the third dream. Its incipit is thus preserved as the catch-line of MS 3025: ibr‹ ⁄tamar ÍaluÍtam “My friend, I have seen a third (dream).” For purposes of easy reference in GilgameÍ studies, the two previously identified pieces of the Babylonian GilgameÍ in the collection have been given the sigla OB Gilg Schøyen1 (MS 2652/5) and OB Gilg Schøyen2 (MS 3025). The twenty fragments collected under the number MS 3263/1–8 and 10–21 can be referred to as OB Gilg Schøyen3. Eight pieces are edited here: Fragments 1–7 and 11. As can be seen from the photograph on pl. 17, the remaining twelve fragments are too small or damaged for meaningful transliteration. The number MS 3263 was given to twentyone fragments, mostly very small, that came to light when MS 3299 (a mathematical problem text) was baked and its left-hand corners disintegrated in the kiln. Only one of the fragments, now 3263/9, could be rejoined to 3299 and, upon close inspection, the others turned out not to belong to that tablet at all, but to be old material joined to it in modern times with the aid of additional clay and mud. The joiner’s purpose was certainly to make MS 3299 appear complete. While some of the fragments are so small as to hold only a few wedges, others are large enough to allow the reading of words and parts of words. Three include names preceded by divine determinatives, dGIfi and den. These are abbreviated spellings of the heroes GilgameÍ and Enkidu. Another four fragments hold phrases that can be restored as typical of the poems of GilgameÍ, in particular the dream episodes that punctuate the journey to the Cedar Forest. The fragments resemble one another in script, clay, and general appearance. On that account it is assumed that all twenty fragments that do not belong to MS 3299 are the extant remains of what was once a single tablet of GilgameÍ. Fragment 1 MS 3263/1 is the largest fragment. It is from near the right edge and has suffered from being cut down to shape. It contains parts of twelve lines from GilgameÍ’s description of one of his dreams. This is almost certainly a variant version of the fourth dream, an account of which is also preserved on an excerpt tablet from Nippur (OB Gilg Nippur, ed. George 2003: 241–46). According to that excerpt, the fourth dream was populated by a female Anzû-bird and a strangelooking man. The bird’s “radiance” (Íalummassa) terrified GilgameÍ but the man saved him. The present telling refers to Íalummatum as a probable attribute of a feminine character (l. 3'), 37 38 Babylonian Literary Texts and to a strange-looking man (l. 6'), where the phrase matches OB Gilg Nippur. The symbolism conforms to the usual pattern of the dreams: the threatening Anzû-bird represents °uwawa, whom GilgameÍ shall overcome with the aid of a strange eˇlum. As Enkidu reveals in OB Gilg Nippur rev. 6', this latter, anthropomorphic figure represents the sun-god fiamaÍ. In the present account the arrival of the eˇlum duly heralds the rays of the sun (ll. 8', 10'), but in language that is 1' . . . r]i-ig-mi-Í[a x x x x] 2' . . . ]x-ni-a-tim [x x x] 3' . . . a]p-ra-at Ía-lum-m[a-tam] 4' ...] i-na zu-um-[ri-Ía] 5' . . . ]x-‚eŸ-ma it-ti Íu-[x x] 6' . . . iÍ-te-e]n eˇ-lum Ía-ni b[i-ni-tam] 7' . . . i]ˇ-Óe-a-am a-na ma-a[Ó?-ri-ia] 8' . . . ]x-tum it-ta-‰i Ía-[am-Íum?] 9' . . . i-n]a wa-ar-ki-Íu it-[x x] 10' . . . ]x-ma-ta nu-u[r dÍamaÍ(utu)?] 11' . . . ]x-tam i-we Í[a x x] 12' . . . ]x ‚ib?Ÿ [x x] 1'. The rigmum is presumably the screech of the Anzû-bird, and a premonition of the moment when the heroes hear °uwawa’s terrible din in the distance and grow afraid (e.g. SB Gilg IV 202). 6'. Cf. in the fourth dream as preserved on OB Gilg Nippur 15: eˇlu[mma?] Íani bin‹tam. reminiscent of the second dream in OB Gilg Schøyen2. The sign ta is written in such a way that the top horizontal wedge is completely obscured by the two upright wedges. This idiosyncrasy sometimes also occurs on MS 3025 (Text No. 5), and is a particularly conspicuous reason for thinking that the two tablets were written by the same individual. . . . at] its cry [ . . . ] . . . ] . . . [ . . . ,] . . . ] it was crowned with radiance. . . . ] in [its] body, . . . ] . . . with [ . . . ] . . . there] was a man, strange of form, . . . he] drew near to [my] presence(?). . . . ] . . . the [sun(?)] went forth, . . . ] after him . . . . . . ] . . . the light [of the sun(?),] . . . ] turned into . . . 8'. This line can be restored after a line of the second dream, as reported in OB Gilg Schøyen2 (Text No. 5) 42: ekletum ittawir fiamaÍ itta‰i. If so, the members of each clause are transposed and a penultimate stress is achieved: [ittawir ekl]etum itta‰i Íá[mÍum]. Fragment 2 MS 3263/2 is a fragment from the left edge. It contains lines that, when complete, gave an account of Enkidu’s explanation of one of GilgameÍ’s dreams. The key phrase is sebet melemm› in l. 4', which obviously alludes to °uwawa’s supernatural protection, the seven cloaks bestowed on him by Enlil. In other versions of the poem these are referred to by three different expressions: (a) sebe pulÓi’⁄tim “seven terrors” (OB Gilg III 137) // pulÓête (Assyrian Gilg MS y obv. 15') // pulÓâti (SB Gilg II 219b etc.); (b) melemm›, seven in number and likened to °uwawa’s chicks (OB Gilg Ishchali 12'–13'); and (c) namrirr› Ía ilim “the god’s radiant auras” (OB Gilg Nippur 3) in Enkidu’s explanation of GilgameÍ’s third dream. The last is the context closest to the present one but there is no other similarity in the phrasing of the two passages. Fragments of GilagameÍ’s Journey to the Cedar Forest 1' 2' 3' [x] x x[ . . . x x i-du-[ . . . d en Íu-na-[tam ipaÍÍar izzakkaram ana dGIfi] 4' 7 me-lem-m[u . . . 5' i-im-mar-k[a . . . 6' e-le-nu ‚dŸ[ÍamaÍ? . . . 7' ù Ía t[a-mu-ru-(Íu) . . . 8' i-na x[ . . . left edge: traces of two erased signs 39 Enkidu [explained the] dream, [saying to GilgameÍ:] “The seven radiant sheens [ . . . he will see you [ . . . Above, the [sun-god(?) . . . and he whom you [saw . . . In [ . . . the dream with either the sun-god fiamaÍ (OB Gilg Schøyen2 = Text No. 5: 21: u Ía t⁄mur›Íu, OB Gilg Nippur rev. 6', OB Gilg Harmal1 12), or GilgameÍ’s father, Lugalbanda (OB Gilg Nippur 7), or an unidentified person (SB Gilg IV Y3 v 3', broken). 3'. The line is restored after OB Gilg Schøyen2 (Text No. 5) 13 // 44, which has Íuttam instead of the literary trisyllable. 7'. The phrase Ía t⁄muru is standard in the dream explanations of GilgameÍ. It accompanies the identification of some figure in Fragment 3 Another fragment from the left edge, MS 3263/ 3, contains traces of a dream explanation, including Enkidu’s usual reassurance that the nightmare GilgameÍ has just related was, in fact, a 1' 2' 3' 4' 5' 6' 7' x[ . . . da[m-qa-at Íunatka . . . d GIfi [pâÍu ‹puÍamma . . . al-[kam ib-ri . . . x[ . . . x[ . . . x[ . . . 2'. Cf. OB Gilg Schøyen2 (Text No. 5) 52: dam[q⁄ Í]un⁄t›ka; MB Gilg Boè2 i 2'–3': [damqat?] Íuttaka; SB Gilg IV 28 // 109 // 155: damqat Íunatka. good omen. Other such statements conclude his explanations and are followed by narrative, and that is probably also the case here. “[Your dream is] favorable [ . . . . . . ]” GilgameÍ [opened his mouth, saying to Enkidu:] “Come, [my friend, . . . Babylonian Literary Texts 40 Fragment 4 MS 3263/4 is the bottom left-hand corner of a tablet inscribed on obverse, edge, and reverse. 1' 2' edge 3' 4' 5' 6' rev. 7' 8' Enkidu puts in an appearance in l. 2' but more than that I cannot say. x x[ . . . en x[ . . . d x l[u . . . x Óu x[ . . . na-Íu-ú x[ . . . tu-u[r?- . . . za x[ . . . ki-ma [ . . . Fragment 5 MS 3263/5 is a piece from the turn from obverse to bottom edge, or reverse to top edge. The presence of damqat “it is favorable” (l. 3') sug1' 2' 3' edge 4' gests that the context is the end of a dream explanation (see above, Fragment 3). . . . ]x x x [ . . . . . . ]x-ra-am i-x[ . . . . . . ] dam-qá-a[t . . . . . .]x-Íu [... Fragment 6 MS 3263/6 is a fragment from the right edge that preserves the last sign of a single line, ]-al. The vacant spaces above and below this sign show that the scribe did not align the ends of every line with the right-hand edge of the tab- let. This is also the case on OB Schøyen2 (Text No. 5) and another reason for identifying the two tablets as companion pieces. Fragments of GilagameÍ’s Journey to the Cedar Forest 41 Fragment 7 MS 3263/7 is piece from the middle inscribed with parts of four lines. If l. 2' is correctly restored, the context is a conversation between 1' 2' 3' 4' ... ] ib? [x x] [it-bé i-ta-w]a-am a-na ‚ibŸ-[ri-Íu] ... ]x-ia [0?] ... ]x ‚i-na Íe-riŸ-[im] GilgameÍ and Enkidu in which the former begins to tell the latter of his nightmares. [He arose to] talk with [his] friend: “ . . . ] my [ . . . ] . . . ] in the morning.” 2'. Restored from OB Schøyen2 (Text No. 5) 3. Fragment 11 MS 3263/11 is a piece from the left edge that contains the beginnings of two lines, the first of which comprises the word ib-r[i] “my friend.” This word is typical of the poem of GilgameÍ and clearly marks the line as the opening of a speech of GilgameÍ to Enkidu or vice versa. A Song in Praise of NingiÍzida No. 7 2000 This short text of twenty-four lines, inscribed in an ornate Old Babylonian hand on a tablet of one column per side, is a unique Akkadian composition. Formally it is a song in praise of the god NingiÍzida (under his abbreviated name of Ninzida), as the incipit indicates: luzmur “I will sing.” Declarations in the voice of the singer occur in several other Babylonian literary works and are stylistic features that clearly derive from or emulate oral performance. In addition to luzmur, other parts of zam⁄ru occur, e.g. azammar and azammur “I am singing,” luzzammur “I will keep singing,” and zumr⁄ “sing you!” In narrative poetry these declarations have been identified as one of two opening strategies by which the singer attracted his audience’s attention (“type A” in Wilcke 1977). Notable among the compositions that use parts of zam⁄ru in this way are the widely read poems of AguÍaya (ii 5) and Anzû (SB I 2), and a less well-known composition about B¤let-il‹ and her son, Lillu (CT 15 1–2, ed. Römer 1967). In the field of praise and lyric poetry the verb is deployed in the beautiful Old Babylonian hymn to IÍtar published by F. Thureau-Dangin (1925), a fragmentary hymn to Mama recently published by M. Krebernik (2003–4), and songs and ballads unknown except for their incipits (KAR 158 i 7, 20, 22, 30, ii 6, 33, vi 13, 27 etc.; see Black 1983, Limet 1996, Groneberg 2003). Like the texts about AguÍaya, Anzû, and B¤let-il‹, the present piece is not simply praise poetry, for it too tells a myth. Unlike them it runs to only ten couplets of poetry, too short to be classified generically with the great narrative poems of Babylonian literature. Pls. 19–21 Content In the first three couplets the poet visualizes his subject on a journey by river boat, accompanied by what seem to be his symbols, and with the towns Enegi and GiÍbanda as his destination (ll. 1–8). The central couplet of the three likens Ninzida to a fish swimming upstream against the current. Since these places lay on the lower Euphrates clearly he is envisaged as approaching Enegi and GiÍbanda from somewhere downstream on the same river. The poem thus introduces the motif of the god’s journey, so productive in Sumerian literature (see Sjöberg 1957–71). The following two couplets make the claim that Ninzida feeds the great gods of Babylonia: Anum of heaven, Enlil of Nippur, fiamaÍ of Sippar, Adad of E-ugalgal in Karkara, and IÍtar of E-anna in Uruk (9–12). After Anum and Enlil one expects Ea-Enki of Eridu, for together they form the conventional ruling triad; but he is ignored in favor of more junior deities. The next lines invoke Ninzida as controller of the harvest and bringer of abundance, and then relate his connections with two small towns of central Babylonia, one of which (Sabum) is known to have contained a temple of NingiÍzida, and with the cult-center of the sun-god fiamaÍ (13–16). The top of the reverse is spoiled by damage; only E-duranki, the sanctuary of IÍtar at Nippur, emerges for certain from the gloom, and perhaps also E-gidda, the temple of NingiÍzida’s father Ninazu in Enegi (17–19). The following lines appear to assert that a certain Nirda, here understood to be NingiÍzida’s mother, (Nin)-girida, was responsible for naming the cult-center of the moon-god Sîn (20– 21); but this understanding rests on a division of lines that may not be correct. The song closes, 42 A Song in Praise of NingiÍzida more certainly, by stating that someone (surely NingiÍzida rather than his mother) has established NingiÍzida’s house in Enegi (22–24). Aspects of Language and Writing Traces of an erased line on the lower reverse suggest that the tablet had already been used when the text was inscribed on it. The style of writing, with its highly elaborate sign-forms, may speak for a date of writing early in the second millennium. Other features do not contradict such a view, but it was always possible for later scribes to emulate older script. There is one example of an attached preposition: i-zi-pí-ri (l. 10). Geminated consonants are usually written defectively: ma-sa-a-am (2), ma-ku-ur (3), ku-pí-i (5), a-la-lu-ú (8), ù-Ía-ka-al (9, 11, 12), a-ia-ki-im (12, 15), i-bi (21), i-ta-di (22), Íu-ba-a-su-ú (22), but note ap-pa-ri-i-im (4), Óe-gál-li (13) if correctly deciphered, and aÍ-Íum (14, 15, 16). The same holds true for proper nouns (see below). Mimation is present on all but five occasions. In two of them the case ending is marked instead with a repetition of the case vowel: ku-pí-i (5), ra-aÍ-bi-i (16); the other exceptions are the genitive toponym zi-pí-ri (10), the common noun Óe-gál-li (13), and the dative suffix on ra-ak-bu-Íu (6). Other spellings with plene writings of morphologically short vowels occur: i-la-a-am (2, 18), ap-pa-ri-i-im (4), -Íu-ú-um (5, 7), uru-a-am (19) for ⁄lam, Íu-ba-asu-ú (22), bi-ta-a-am (23), probably also sa-ba-aam (14). The syllable /pi/ is consistently written pí, in archival texts a north Babylonian convention. Syllables opened with /s/ are written with the signs sa and su, which is also a north Baby- 43 lonian convention. For this reason the toponym written zi-pí-ri is not read sí-pí-ri. The most remarkable orthographic feature of the text is the use of phonetic spellings of many proper nouns. They can be tabulated as follows: a-du-ur-an-k[i?] (17) é.dur.an.ki? a-ia-ki-im (12, 15) é.an.na (Ayakkum) a-na-am (9) Anum e-ba-pa-ri-im (16) é.babbar-im e-gu-ta (19) é.gíd.da? e-iu-ga-gal (11) é.u4.gal.gal e-mi-gi (7), e-ne-IG (23) Enegi né-eÍ-pa-an-da (8) GiÍbanda ni-pu-ru (10, 14) Nippuru < Nibru (Nippur) d ni-ir-da (21) (nin).giri16.da? sa-ba-a-am (14) Sabum, acc. zi-pí-ri (10) Zippirum, gen. (Sippar) [ú-ri]-im (20) Urim (Ur) Some of these spellings are discussed individually in the textual notes below. The orthography suggests that the tablet was probably written in north Babylonia. By contrast, the composition’s geographical context is the far south, and it surely originated there. It is fully possible that a song to NingiÍzida composed in the south was known in the north and there set down in local spelling. But it is also the case that the distribution of “northern” v. “southern” orthography in manuscripts of literary texts is not properly understood. Spellings identified in such terms may not be indicative exclusively of geographical origin. 44 Babylonian Literary Texts TRANSLITERATION obv. 1 3 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 rev. 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 lu-uz4-mu-ur dnin-zi-da 2 ma-sa-a-am i-la-a-am qar-da-am ra-ki-ib ma-ku-ur uq-ni-i-im 4 qé-re-eb ap-pa-ri-i-im ra-ak-ba-Íu-ú-um a-na ku-pí-i / pa-aÍ-tum a-na nu-ni-im ma-Ói-ri-im di-du ra-ak-bu-Íu na-du-Íu-ú-um ka-ru i-na e-mi-gi i-na né-eÍ-pa-an-da a-la-lu-ú Ía-‚akŸ-nu-Íu-um ù-Ía-ka-al a-na-am i-na Ía-mé-e d en-líl i-na ni-pu-ru d‚ÍamaÍ(utu) i-ziŸ-pí-ri i-na e-iu-ga-ga[l] ‚dŸadad(iÍkur) ú-Ía-ka-al i-na a-ia-ki-im ú-Ía-ka-al iÍ8-tár na-du-ú ma-aÍ-ka-nu-ú-Íu karpat(dug!) Óe-gál-li aÍ-Íum ni-pu-ru i-ra-a-am sa-ba-a-am aÍ-Íum a-‚iaŸ-ki-im ú-Íe-pí-iÍ / pí-na-ra-ti-im aÍ-Íum e-ba-pa-ri-‚imŸ b‹t(é) dÍamaÍ(utu) / ‚raŸ-aÍ-bi-i i-na a-du-ur-‚anŸ-k[i x x x] x am? x x i-la-a-a[m x ]x (x) x ‚in?-né?Ÿ-pu?-[uÍ?]-Íum e-gu-ta ⁄lam(uru)a-a[m?] [ú-ri]-im mu-Ía-ab dsîn(suen) ‚ni-irŸ-da i-bi i-bi ni-ir-da i-ta-di! Íu-ba-a-su-ú e-‚neŸ-IG bi-ta-{ras.}-a-am Ía la-le-e-Íu i-pu-úÍ NOTES 1. The spelling dnin-zi-da is found also in a letter from Kisurra (Kienast 1978 no. 159: 19, quoted below, note on ll. 5–6) and in an unpublished bilingual hymn to Utu now in the Schøyen Collection (MS 2243/ 1 iv 27–28): dnin.giÍ.zi.da sag.níta // dninzi-da Ía-ka-na-ku. These spellings are evidence for an abbreviated form of the name normally spelled dnin.giÍ.zi.da, Emesal d ù.mu.un.mu.zi.da etc., that was especially current in Akkadian contexts. Note, however, that at Mari phonetic spellings in Akkadian contexts retain the four syllables of the Sumerian name: dni-ki-si-da, dni-gi-sida, dnin-nigi-si-da (Durand 1987); later sources from Bogazköy, Assyria, and Baby© lonia concur (Wiggermann 2000: 368). 2. The epithet of this line occurs also in a composition known only by its incipit (KAR 158 i 40: [ . . . ] i-gi-gi man-sa-a ila(dingir) qar-da). Perhaps the phrase was a stock item in Babylonian hymnology. 5–6. The present interpretation of this obscure couplet rests on three assumptions: (1) that the lines exhibit a pattern ABC BCA, where A = verb + indirect object expressed as pronoun, B = indirect object, C = subject, (2) that, to achieve grammatical agreement between subject and predicate in l. 5, either pa-aÍ-tum is erroneous for pl. p⁄Í⁄tum or ra-ak-ba-Íu-ú-um is a mistake for rakbassum, and (3) that the n›nim m⁄Óirim, lit. “fish going against (the current),” is NingiÍzida himself, travelling upriver on his barge (m⁄Óirum in this meaning is well known in the description of boats, m⁄Óirtum). For ku-bi-i to yield a suitable parallel to n›num it must be kuppûm, A Song in Praise of NingiÍzida 1 3 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 21 22 24 45 TRANSLATION I will sing praise of Ninzida, leader, valiant god, who rides a barge of lapis lazuli 4 through the marshlands! Riding for him, for the eel(?), is the p⁄Ítum-symbol; for the fish swimming upstream skirts(?) are riding for him. The landing stages are ready for him in Enegi, work songs are provided for him in GiÍbanda. He feeds Anum in the heavens, Enlil in Nippur, fiamaÍ in Sippar. In E-ugalgal he feeds Adad, in Eanna IÍtar he feeds. Ready are his threshing-floors, (and) jars of plenty! On Nippur’s account he loves Sabum; on Eanna’s account he had Pî-n⁄r⁄tim built, on Ebabbar’s account, the house of awesome fiamaÍ. From E-dur-[anki . . . ,] . . . god . . . , 19 E-gidda was built(?) for him. The city 20 Ur, the residence of Sîn, Girda named (it), Girda named (it). He established his abode, 23 Enegi(!), he made his luxuriant 23 home. 2 which designates some kind of fish, perhaps an eel or goby (Civil 1961: 170–71, Landsberger 1962: 87–88). It is a wellknown part of the life-cycle of eels that they swim up rivers as juveniles, and return to the sea to spawn in old age. The p⁄Ítum is a known symbol of NingiÍzida. In an Old Babylonian letter from Kisurra such a thing represents Nin(giÍ)zida in lending his authority to the surveying of a date-palm plantation (Kienast 1978 no. 159, 19: pa-áÍ-tum Ía dnin-zi-da). In an omen from fiumma ⁄lu XV the portent of a puddle of water that resembles somebody bearing a p⁄Ítum is explained as signifying the presence of NingiÍzida (CT 38 21: 12, ed. Freedman 1998: 231–32: manz⁄z(ki. gub) dnin-giÍ-zi-da). The word p⁄Ítum has usually been rendered “axe” or “double- headed axe” (e.g. CAD P s.v.). However, in the light of ritual texts that describe baÍmu-snakes as bearing these objects, Frans Wiggermann has noted that the p⁄Ítum should be the crescent-shaped weapon so depicted in art (1992: 86), and that NingiÍzida is represented holding such a weapon on a cylinder seal of Ur III date (2000: 371). He consequently translates p⁄Ítum as “sickle-sword.” Parallel with p⁄Ítum in the present text are women’s undergarments (d‹d›), evidently the subject of rakb›Íu in l. 6. How these are symbolic of NingiÍzida is not understood. 7. E-me-gi is a phonetic rendering of Enegi, the cult-center of Ninazu and therefore NingiÍzida’s birthplace. The close association of Enegi and its temple, é.gíd.da, with GiÍbanda (l. 8) is found in other texts, in 46 Babylonian Literary Texts Sumerian literature (Temple Hymns nos. 14 and 15, ed. Sjöberg and Bergmann 1969: 27–29; Lamentation over Sumer and Ur 206–11, ed. Michalowski 1989: 48–49; PRAK II D 41 i 23–26 // VAS II 26 rev. ii 27?–30, see Carroué 1993: 47) and in an Old Babylonian temple list (MSL XI 142 viii 41–42). The pairing of the two cultcenters reflects their geographical propinquity: both lay between Uruk and Ur, perhaps only a few kilometers apart (Frayne 1988: 349; Carroué 1993: 63). Enegi was the moon-god’s first port of call on his journey by barge from Ur to Nippur (Nanna-Suen’s Journey 198–208, ed. Ferrara 1973). 8. In the pronunciation of the first letter of GiÍbanda, the present spelling of NingiÍzida’s cult-center recalls the spelling niÍ. bàn.daki attested in the Ur III period (refs. collected by Wiggermann 2000: 372). For initial /∞/ realized as /n/ in the Old Babylonian period see Durand 1987 (at Mari) and below, on l. 21; the unvoicing of /b/ is expected in an Akkadian context. 10. Another Old Babylonian example of this spelling of the toponym Nippur (< Nibru) occurs in AbB V 156, 5: i-na ni-pu-ru. Other evidence for the trisyllabic form of the name has been assembled by Jacob Klein (2001: 533). On the vocalization of Sippar as Sippir in the Old Babylonian period see the evidence collected by Brigitte Groneberg (1980a: 205, 307). This evidence reveals that Old Babylonian spellings with initial si occur on tablets found at Kisurra and Tell ed-D¤r, but variant spellings with initial zi appear on tablets from Mari, Tell ed-D¤r, and Mananâ. These latter spellings, together with the present zi-pí-ri, speak for the existence of an archaic form Zippir (cf. Sum. Zimbir) alongside Sippir. A spelling with a case ending, also genitive, occurs at Kisurra (Kienast 1978 no. 30: 4: si-pí-ri-im). 11–12. This spelling of é.u4.gal.gal reports a glide /y/ between é and u4. The same is seen in the better-known ayakkum (< é- an.ak+um), Akkadian for Eanna, IÍtar’s temple in Uruk, on which see most recently Beaulieu 2002. Both renderings support the proposal that the true pronunciation of Sum. é was hay (see most recently Krispijn 2001: 256 n. 39). 13. The sign here read dug(BI™A)! can be more exactly described as GA™X. In defense of the emendation one may cite an Old Babylonian letter that demonstrates a practical connection between maÍkanum and karpatum (TCL XVII 2: 18–19): Ía-pi-il-ti Íe-e-em i-na ma-aÍ-ka-an! ka-ar-pa-a-tim aÍ-ta-pa-aak “I have stored the balance of the barley in jars at the threshing-floor.” The karpatum was evidently the vessel in which grain was transported from threshing-floor to granary. In the present context, describing how NingiÍzida feeds the gods, the collocation of his threshing-floors and brimming karpat Óengalli “jars of plenty” is eminently fitting. 14–15. In these parallel lines Sabum and Pîn⁄r⁄tim are toponyms. Given the local horizons of this text, Sabum cannot be the town of this name in Elam or ParaÓÍum that was conquered by Sargon of Akkade. In the Old Babylonian period a town Sabum appears in year-names, first when captured by Sumuel of Larsa (year 10, Sigrist 1990: 18) and then as subjugated by Samsuiluna of Babylon (year 13, Horsnell 1999 II 198). The former date associates Sabum with towns or villages along the Euphrates; the latter pairs it with the central Babylonian city of Kisurra. In addition, Sîn-iddinam of Larsa claims in his great barrel inscription to have fortified the town (MS 5000 iii 5, courtesy Konrad Volk). Old Babylonian evidence for central Babylonian Sabum has been collected by Marten Stol (2007) and includes a letter from the correspondence of fiamaÍ-Ó⁄zir that mentions a clerk and temple of NingiÍzida in Sabum (AbB IV 139: 18–19: Íà.tam Ía d nin-giÍ-zi-da Ía sa-bu-umki; 21: b‹t dnin-giÍzi-da). Pî-n⁄r⁄tim is a lesser-known place attested in documents from the same peri- A Song in Praise of NingiÍzida ods and probably situated also on the Euphrates in central or northern Babylonia (Streck 2005). It was sacked and its walls destroyed by Sumuel of Larsa, as reported in his eighth and ninth year-names (Sigrist 1990: 17), and captured again by later kings of the same dynasty. The two towns Sabum and Pî-n⁄r⁄tim are associated in the present text with Nippur and Uruk (Eanna), respectively. A link between Sabum and Nippur may be seen in a text from a later period. In explaining the divine name Nissaba as “Mistress of Saba/um” W. G. Lambert understands a pair of lines in an unpublished duplicate of the aluzinnu text II R 60 to give the epithet be-let sa-a-biki “lady of Sabu” to Nissaba’s daughter Ninlil (Lambert 2003). Ninlil moved to Nippur after her marriage to Enlil. What Pî-n⁄r⁄tim has to do with Eanna, and with NingiÍzida, is unclear, however. 17. If the preserved signs are correctly understood as the temple name E-dur-anki (IÍtar’s temple at Nippur, George 1993a: 80 no. 218), here is further evidence for the pronunciation of Sumerian é “house” with vowel /a/ (see above, on ll. 11–12). 47 19. The word e-gu-ta has the look of a phonetically written temple name, perhaps one that begins é-kù-... However, in this context I am more tempted to understand it as a spelling of é.gíd.da, Ninazu’s temple at Enegi and NingiÍzida’s paternal home (George 1993a: 94 no. 392). If correctly read, innepuÍÍum Eg›ta can have no connection with ⁄lam / [Uri]m and must be a half line that terminates a couplet written over three lines of tablet (17–19a). 21. The spelling ni-ir-da seems to represent the goddess Ningirida, the wife of Ninazu and mother of NingiÍzida, on whose name see Lambert 1990a: 294; initial ni stands for /∞i/, as earlier in né-eÍ-pa-an-da = GiÍbanda (l. 8). Nirda represents an abbreviated form of her name that is routine in the mid-third millennium (Krebernik 2000). It is also found in a Middle Assyrian copy of An V 241: dgìrir.da, which, without knowledge of this new OB spelling, Lambert dismissed as an error. Doubt remains over the equation of ni-ir-da and (Nin)-girida, however, because she seems to have no special connection with Ur and Sîn. 23. The erased sign was am. COMMENTARY Son of Ninazu and consort of GeÍtinanna (also Ninazimua), NingiÍzida is the subject of at least four Sumerian songs of praise (NingiÍzida A– D),1 and of two narrative poems that relate the myth of his descent to the Netherworld, one in Sumerian and one in Akkadian.2 Another mythological narrative about NingiÍzida and Ninazi- 1 2 NingiÍzida A = TCL XV 25, ed. van Dijk 1960: 81–107; NingiÍzida B–C ed. Sjöberg 1975b; ETCSL 4.19.1–4. Respectively VAS II 35 // UET VI 23 and dupls., ed. Jacobsen and Alster 2000 (ETCSL 1.7.3), and UET VI 395, ed. Lambert 1990a. mua is less well preserved.3 The Akkadian text notes how his tears are red, an allusion to the wine that was produced by the vine (giÍ.zi.da) of his name (Lambert 1990b). The character of the god is otherwise chthonic, like his father, for he is routinely identified as the “chamberlain” (gu.za.lá) of the Netherworld. By virtue of a syncretism with the shepherd-god Dumuzi and 3 TMH NF 4 4 // UET VI 27, on which see Kramer and Bernhardt 1967: 11–12 “Nr. 4 (HS 1520). ‘Die Sorgen von NingiÍzida und Ninazimua’,” and Jacobsen and Alster 2000: 317–18. 48 Babylonian Literary Texts other gods that die and rise, NingiÍzida also came to be associated with sheep-rearing.1 In the present text his role is different again, for he is invoked as a wealthy farmer who from his full granaries provides food for the most senior deities of the pantheon. Further references to his agrarian expertise are provided by the incipit of NingiÍzida A, which invokes the god as en Íà.túm a.gàr “lord of meadow and field” (van Dijk 1960: 81 l. 1), and lines of NingiÍzida C that acknowledge his part in bringing the annual flood and making crops grow: [íd.da a.e]Ítub Óé.e.da.gál den.ki Óé.e.da.Óúl [a.Íà.ga Í]e.gu.nu Óé.e.da.gál x[ x x Óé.e].da.Óúl Sjöberg 1975b: 306 ll. 15'–16' Through you the carp-[waters] rise [in the rivers], so Enki rejoices in you, through you cereal crops grow [in the fields, so Nissaba(?)] rejoices in you! The question arises as to what might be the contexts of NingiÍzida’s journey as described in the present text, mythological and ritual. In the Sumerian poem of NingiÍzida’s descent to the Netherworld he also rides on a ma.gur8-boat (Akk. makurrum); but the situation here is quite different. Since the text edited here begins with NingiÍzida riding the boat and ends with him establishing his dwelling place, one of its functions is to relate the myth of this god’s adoption of a cult-center as his home. The adoption of a home by a god is a highly productive mytheme in ancient Mesopotamia, where it was believed that the land was apportioned among the gods in early times, each taking a city in which to reside. In this book the Song of Bazi is another prime example of a story that relates how a god established his home (Text No. 1). The myth embedded in the poem of Bilgames and the Netherworld is a closer parallel, however, for it combines such a myth with a divine journey by 1 On the character and attributes of NingiÍzida see in detail Jacobsen and Alster 2000: 315– 18, Lambert 1990a, Wiggermann 1997: 39– 42, id. 2000. boat. In that case the god is Enki, who travels by water to take up residence in his cosmic domain, the Abzu. If this text tells the story of NingiÍzida’s first arrival in Enegi and GiÍbanda and his adoption of them as his home, then his mythical journey upstream would have started at Ea’s cult-center in Eridu, for according to one of the Sumerian hymns it was in Ea’s Abzu that NingiÍzida grew up (NingiÍzida A 6: abzu.a bùlug.gá). A myth that tells how NingiÍzida established his home specifically in Enegi raises a problem. NingiÍzida’s cult-center was GiÍbanda; nearby Enegi belonged to his father, Ninazu. The present text associates the younger deity with both places (ll. 7–8), but the climax, if interpreted correctly, refers to his settling in Enegi and its temple, E-gidda (ll. 22–24). According to literary tradition the two towns Enegi and GiÍbanda succumbed as the Ur III state collapsed (Lamentation over the Destruction of Sumer and Ur 206–13). This may be a reliable view historically, for neither place appears in archival records from the ensuing periods. The prebends of the “chapel of Ninazu in E-gidda” were still administered in the Old Babylonian period (YOS XI 64 rev.), but this may have been a cult in exile. In the Old Babylonian period the cults of Ninazu and NingiÍzida are best attested at Ur, where a temple called é.níg.gi.na was maintained for NingiÍzida by the kings of Larsa (George 1993a: 132 no. 877; Richter 1999a: 429–34). Probably both cults moved to Ur, the nearest large town, when GiÍbanda and Enegi were abandoned. The history of NingiÍzida’s cult allows a proposal for the date and cultic context of the text published here. An Old Babylonian poem in praise of NingiÍzida is unlikely to have been composed to celebrate his occupation of a cultcenter in the Ur III period, when Sumerian was overwhelmingly the language of formal religious and literary expression. It must be a composition of the immediately succeeding period, when literature in Akkadian begins to become more evident. The poem’s statement that NingiÍzida set up home in his father’s town Enegi, not in his own cult-center, GiÍbanda, shows a lack of fine distinction that suits a period when A Song in Praise of NingiÍzida these places were defunct: again, the post-Ur III period. If GiÍbanda and Enegi were defunct when the song was composed, the myth that it tells had a ritual function other than the celebration of NingiÍzida’s arrival in his cult-center. The cultic background is evidently a harvest festival: the threshing-floors are in use, the harvest is entering the temple granaries of Babylonia. Amidst all this glad activity, NingiÍzida and his symbols are taken on a jubilant trip by barge, no doubt to ensure that the land surrenders its bounty to him for distribution. Gods frequently travelled by boat during festivals; in the Ur III period NingiÍzida possessed a ceremonial barge 49 that received offerings of sheep at Girsu (ITT V 6823: 6, ed. Sallaberger 1993 II 175). The starting point of the journey reported in the present text was probably Ur, the only large town downstream of GiÍbanda and Enegi. This was a place with which NingiÍzida had close cultic links from at least the late third millennium and, as already mentioned, an active cult in the postUr III period. In the context of ritual, a visit by NingiÍzida to Enegi and GiÍbanda in this era would be a journey into the past, a trip to abandoned settlements that once were home. The myth of NingiÍzida’s occupation of Enegi can thus be made to fit the cultic reality of the period after the downfall of Ur. Oh Girl, Whoopee! No. 8 2866 This complete tablet contains a short composition written over twenty-three lines of tablet; when arranged as poetry they yield eight couplets and one verse. The poem is a fine example of Old Babylonian love poetry. Very little such poetry is extant. Some of what survives belongs in the formal context of court or temple. One composition is a text containing amatory dialogue between two deities, Muati and Nanay, preserved on a late Old Babylonian tablet from Babylon now in Berlin (Lambert 1966). It includes blessings for Babylon and King AbieÍuÓ, so a cultic or ritual context is not in doubt. Another composition, now at Yale, includes similar dialogue between participants in a rite of sacred marriage (YOS XI 24, ed. Sigrist and Westenholz 2008); the text mentions King R‹m-Sîn of Larsa and Nanay, the goddess of the marital bed. A third, much-translated, dialogue inscribed on a tablet in Istanbul is clearly secular, though it invokes King °ammurapi of Babylon and Nanay; it shares two stanzas with Text No. 10, where it is discussed further. Two other love poems from the Old Babylonian period have recently been studied, as noted in the introduction to Text No. 9. Both are fragmentary but what survives is addressed by women to men and probably from secular contexts. Seven fragments of Old Babylonian tablets found at Kish and hitherto published only in cuneiform have been identified as “love-lyrics” by Nathan Wasserman in his catalogue of Old Babylonian literary texts (2003: 203–4 nos. 125–27, 129–32). Some of them mention deities but none of them holds so much as a complete clause; their generic ascription remains uncertain. For a survey of Babylonian and other ancient Near Eastern love poetry see Joan Goodnick Westenholz’s contribution to the Pls. 22–23 encyclopedia Civilizations of the Ancient Near East (Westenholz 1995). A monograph on the topic of Liebe in der altorientalischen Dichtung promises much but is not fully informed (Musche 1999). The related genre of love spells is discussed below, in the introduction to Text No. 11. Content Unusual for Old Babylonian love poetry, the first-person voice of this poem is male. He has fallen in love with a girl, much to her mother’s displeasure (ll. 1–4). He immerses himself completely in a love that consumes him like a parasite (5–6). The girl smells sweet as date-syrup and acts with ripe sensuality (7–9). When he hears her name it is as dear to him as the air he breathes; her coy smile, half-concealed, excites him (11–13). Then follows a flashback: it is for lovers to dream but, by contrast, his own mood was sour (14–15). But maybe the goddess of love had really found him work, and ordained an absence of rivals (16–17). Thereupon happiness entered his life (18–19). He wakes early, roused by a chorus of swallows, and cannot fall asleep again (20–21), realizing that Cupid has re-entered his life (22–23). Aspects of Language and Writing In a departure from the normal poetic style, the stress is inconsistently placed. Only three times does it definitely appear in the conventional place, on the penultimate syllable: áppim (ll. 7– 8), Íun⁄tim (14), mayy⁄lim (21). Two lines end with final stress: i‰‹k (1–2), iggeltâm (20), and probably a further nine lines terminate with antepenultimate stress: kábtat‹ (3–4), muÓáttitam (5), muÓáttitum (6), kábtatum (9–10), munámmiÍat (13), kábtatum (15), ánni’am (16), r⁄’im› (17), kábtat‹ (18), ⁄riru? (19). 50 Oh Girl, Whoopee! The orthography is similar to that encountered in Text No. 9: the syllable /ˇi/ is spelled both ˇì(TI), northern style, and ˇi, as favored in the south: ba-la-ˇì-im (11), na-ˇi-il (14); but southern conventions are /pi/ written pi and the use of ZV signs, viz. sí and sà, for /sV/: diiÍ-pi-im (7), ap-pi-i-im (8), sí-qí-ir (11), ‰í-Óa-as-sà (13), sà-ab-sà-at (15). Geminated consonants are frequently written defectively: li-bi (2), a-li-tim (3), li-ba-am mu-Óa-ti-tam (5), mu-Óa-ti-tu (6), mu-na-mi-Ía-at (13), li-bi (15), i-ge-el-ta-am (20). One short vowel is written plene: ap-pi-i-im (8). Mimation is absent from some forms where it is expected: ra-mu mu-Óa-ti-tu (4), ka-ab-ta-tu (10), perhaps Óar-du, a-ri-ru (19). Crasis occurs once: ur-Íi-ma-ag-ru-ur (21) for urÍim agrur. TRANSLITERATION obv. 1 3 5 6 7 9 11 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 rev. 22 1 4 5 6 7 9 11 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 ma-ar-ti a-la-lí 2 li-bi i-‰í-ik ‰í-Óa-at a-li-tim it-ba-al 4 ka-ab-ta-ti i-Ía-al-li li-ba-am mu-Óa-ti-tam da-du-Ía ra-mu mu-Óa-ti-tu ki-ma di-iÍ-pi-im ˇa-ba-at 8 a-na ap!-pi-i-im ki-ma ka-ra-nim eÍ-Íi-et 10 in-bi ka-ab-ta-tu ki-ma ba-la-ˇì-im sí-qí-ir Íu-mi-Ía 12 la Íi-bu [r]e?-qé-et-ma ‰í-Óa-as-sà mu-na-mi-Ía-at [ra-Í]i ra-i-im-tim na-ˇi-il Íu-‚naŸ-tim [Óe-pi?]-ma li-bi sà-ab-sà-at ka-ab-ta-tum [Íum-ma?]-an iÍ-ku-un diÍ8-tár Íi-ip-ra-am ‚an-niŸ-a-am [i-ma-t]im? a-a in-<na>-am-ru ra-i-mu [li-i]b-bi!(fiE)-ma i-li-i‰ i-wi-ir ka-ab-ta-ti [x x]-ma ki-na-tum Óar-du ù a-ri-ru [a-ri-g]i-im Íi-nu-nu-tim i-ge-el-ta-am [i-n]a ur-Íi-ma-ag-ru-ur i-na ma-a-a-li-im it-tu-ra-am i-ri-[mu-um] 23 ‰e-ri-iÍ ka-ab-[ta-ti-ia] TRANSLATION O girl, whoopee! my heart laughed, my mood 3 took away the mother’s smiles. It plunges into the heart that “infests,” making love to her is a love that “infests.” Sweet she is as syrup 8 to the nose, like wine fresh 10 of fruit is (her) mood. Like life is the sound of her name 12 . . . , her smile is hidden(?) yet stirring to motion. [He that] has a lover is a dreamer of dreams; my heart was [despondent(?)] and (my) mood fierce. [Supposing(?)] IÍtar has set (me) this task, may no (other) lovers [ever(?)] appear! [My] heart grew elated, my mood turned bright, [ . . . ] colleague, . . . and curser. [At the] noise of swallows I(! tablet: he) awoke, [in] the bedchamber I tossed and turned on the bed. The Love [Charm] had come back 23 into my heart! 2 51 52 Babylonian Literary Texts NOTES 1. The use of m⁄rtum for the beloved is paralleled in poems of the female voice that address the beloved as m⁄rum “son” (see the note on Text No. 9: 4). Although a-la-lí is a previously unattested spelling of the common ululation al⁄li, no alternative decipherment (e.g. all⁄n‹ “my acorn,” allall‹ “my hoopoe”) seems more attractive. The English expression “whoopee” can carry with it a sexual innuendo that is not hitherto known for al⁄li but makes it an appropriate translation in the wider context of the poem. 2. The phrase libbum ‰âÓum occurs also with the verb spelled with final /k/ in a newly published late Old Babylonian or early Middle Babylonian tablet of GilgameÍ, at the point when Ninsun explains a dream of GilgameÍ and tells him he will fall in love (i 24): ta-am-ma-ar-Íu-ma libba(Íà)-ka i-‰a-ak “you will see him and your heart will laugh” (George 2008: 64 l. 24). 5, 6. The participle muÓattitum is here taken as the active counterpart of Óuttutum “infested,” which describes people suffering from lice, etc. The implication is that the object of the lover’s devotion and the love he has for her gnaw away at him like parasites, which, as it were, he cannot get out of his hair: hardly an attractive image but certainly a vivid one. 7. Similarly syrupy language occurs in the love lyrics of Muati and Nanay (Lambert 1966: 48 ll. 9–10). 10. The word inbum, here accusative plural qualifying eÍÍet, is full of erotic innuendo: just as wine’s ripe fruitiness makes it good to drink, so the girl’s newly mature “fruits” create around her an irresistible sexual allure. Fruit and gardens are stock metaphors for genitals, sexual attraction and desire in Babylonian and other ancient Near Eastern love poetry (Lambert 1987: 27–31, Westenholz 1992: 382–83, Groneberg 1999: 182–85, Veenker 1999–2000: 58–62), though Sumerian love songs use the garden imagery sparingly (Sefati 1998: 89–90; Geller 2002: 136–37 l. 6). Pomegranates, especially, were believed to have aphrodisiac properties and feature accordingly in the cults of goddesses of love (George 2000: 272). 12. The sequence of signs la Íi bu defeats any decipherment that is obviously meaningful. Perhaps emend to Ía l⁄ eÍebbû “of which I cannot get enough.” 13. A form written re-qé-et will usually mean “distant” (r¤qum), but there is an alternative parsing from raqûm “to hide.” This verb occurs in the stative and verbal adjective in OB GilgameÍ VA+BM i 14: re-qé-e-et ek-letum and iv 11: ur-Óa-am re-qé-e-tam (see further George 2003: 283 and 284). Other verbs are also candidates for restoration, e.g. [e]t-qé-et “is crooked,” but I like the notion that the girl’s coyness excites the poem’s narrator. In some traditional cultures where teeth are thought to compromise beauty it is common to cover the mouth when smiling or laughing. I have observed this habit often in Japan but a particularly instructive literary instance occurs in Mikhail Sholokhov’s Tikhi Don. In this epic Russian novel about the uprising of the Don Cossacks after the revolution, published in serial form between 1928 and 1940, a flirtatious young widow encounters the hero as he returns home from war: “She gazed at him attentively, and pulled her kerchief over her lips to hide her smile. Her voice sounded thicker and a new note crept into it” (Sholokhov 1970: 682). The word ‰‹Ótum is not just a smile or a laugh, however; it often has amorous connotations, and thus here it is not only the girl’s mouth that is hidden but also her sensuality. For examples of ‰‹Ótum in love poetry see conveniently Groneberg 1999: 185–87. 18. The emendation is recommended by the commonness of the idiom libbum el¤‰um and the frequency of the pairing of libbum Oh Girl, Whoopee! and kabtatum in literary contexts (e.g. l. 15). The exact same combination of nouns and verbs as that proposed here occurs in a prism inscription of Esarhaddon, but with the opposite chiasmus (KAH II 127 vii 12'– 14', ed. Borger 1956: 6 §2): e-li-i‰ lib-ba-Íú ka-bat-tuÍ im-mir “Elated grew (AÍÍur’s) heart, his mood turned bright.” 19. The word written °UR-du is hardly Óardu “wakeful,” for this and other words from the same root appear only in Assyrian. I can suggest no convincing decipherment. 20. As written, the verb of this line is third person. I understand the couplet to describe the lover’s sleeplessness described in the first person (so with agrur in the next line), and suspect eggeltâm was intended. 22. On ir‹mum see Westenholz and Westenholz 1977: 205–7. Their conclusion is that 53 “‹rimum” (or ir‹mum?) is the quality that makes women attractive to men, which in the Old Akkadian love charm they edit was mythologized as a divine being, ir-e-mu-um mara’(dumu) deÍtar(inanna) “ir’emum, the child of IÍtar.” A dissenting opinion, that this word denotes only a piece of jewelry specific to IÍtar and related goddesses, has been voiced by Brigitte Groneberg, who dismisses the notion of the “child of IÍtar” as a metaphor (Groneberg 2001: 110–11). Jewelry is part of IÍtar’s allure, certainly, but this is too restricted a view. A personified ir‹mum fits the present passage perfectly and is further evidence of ir‹mum as the Babylonian Cupid. Note also in Text No. 10:3: ul anaddiÍÍim ir‹m‹ “I shall not give her my Love Charm,” where ir‹mum is a euphemism for the sexual attentions of a man. I Shall Be a Slave to You No. 9 5111 Pls. 24–26 Aspects of Language and Writing This is another complete tablet of Old Babylonian love poetry, containing thirty-six lines of text divided by rulings and by the turn from obverse to reverse into eight stanzas, which vary in length from three lines to five. The poem is hard to understand, especially its beginning and end. The tablet’s surface is in places poor and difficult to read. The writing makes use of crasis and apocopation and is prone to errors of omission and overwriting. All this substantially hinders decipherment. The present edition is consequently highly provisional. It is to be hoped that improved understanding will come of exposing the text to a wider readership. The prosody is unusual. Short lines of two or three poetic units predominate; four-unit lines are very rare. This has the effect of a breathless excitability suitable for the poem’s topic. A penultimate stress is usually apparent. Parallelism can be observed, and some pairs of lines clearly complement each other in sense (ll. 9– 10, 14–15, 23–24) or are syntactically bound (30–31). But with five and three-line stanzas there can be no rigid pairing of lines in couplets over the whole text. The use of superfluous epenthetic vowels elevates the language: ra-i-ma-tu (l. 20) against ra-i-im-tu (27), a-ma-[tu] (21) instead of amtum. The omission of an epenthetic vowel, if not a spelling mistake, produces the rare status rectus aÍtim (13) for aÍÍatim, analogous to the st. constr. aÍti. There is an interesting preference observable in this text’s rendering of the 1.c.sg. stative pars⁄ku: final -u is retained where the last radical is weak: leqâku? (5), duwwâku, ewêku (15), but deleted where it is strong: ‰abt⁄k (10), ÍummuÓ⁄k (12), akl⁄k (15), waÍr⁄k (25). A single exception, nasq⁄ku (21), may be explained as crasis in the immediate proximity of the semivowel /w/ (nasq⁄k-waÍratu). Clearer examples of crasis are pa-ni-ti-ia-aÓ-sú-us4-ma (11) for p⁄n‹t‹-aÓsus and pa-ni-ka-mu-ur (17) for p⁄n‹ka⁄mur. Mimation is dropped more often than retained.1 Gemination is marked only in a minor- Content In all but the first stanza, it is clear from the grammatical forms that a woman addresses a man; no doubt this is the case throughout. The poem thus belongs to a subgenre of love poetry otherwise represented in Old Babylonian literature by a fragment from Kish now in Istanbul, in which a woman offers herself to her lover (Westenholz 1987); and an unprovenanced piece now in Geneva, in which a woman pines for her absent lover (Groneberg 1999). The scenario in the present composition is different again. A woman has lost her heart to a man who does not notice her. The intensity of her longing is a new experience for her. Thoughts of him occupy her entire mind and take over her life. Her body is his for the taking. If only he will have her, she will be his slave forever. Behind the woman’s back her friends talk about nothing else; perhaps hers is a forbidden passion. He should not take any notice of the gossip but accept her love. 1 54 Without mimation: a-ta-i-da (l. 3), [Íu?]-ti (10), ma-ka-ki? (13), ra-i-ma-tu, tu-qà-ku (20), wa-aÍ-ra-tu (21), da-[mi]-iq-ta (22), mi-Íi (23), ka-Ía-di (24), e-re-du-ku (25), ra-i-im-tu (27), im-ma, ir-ti-qá-ni (28), sà-ra-ti (32), ma-da (34); with mimation: a-ka-Íi-im (5), na-ra-muum (7), i-te-eg-ra-am (8), aÍ-ti-im (13), ki-tu-um (22), i-la-am (27). I Shall Be a Slave to You 55 ity of instances.1 Spelling is mostly southern: the syllable /sV/ is written with signs from the ZV range: aÓ-sú-us4 (11), a-sà-Óu-ur (13), ú-sé-le-ka (18), sà-ra-ti (32); /pi/ is written with the sign pi: pi-Íi-na (29). But, as read here, there is one mixed form, with TI for /ˇi/ and ZU for /su/: na-ˇì-<la>sú (4); the same mixture of usage occurs in Text No. 8. The syllable /qa/ is written with both qà and qá: le-qà-ku (5), tu-qà-ku (20), na-as-qá-ku (21), ir-ti-qá-ni (28). 1 a-da-bu-ub (14), ú-za-mi-ka (16), a-ta-Íu-uÍ (17) for ⁄taÍÍuÍ, ú-sé-le-ka, li-ri-Ía!-ni (18), mu-di-ti-i (19) for muddiÍ‹, tu-qà-ku (20), ki-tu-um (22), e-re-du-ku (25), ir-ti-qá-ni (28), i-a-da-ra (31), li-ba-ka, sà-ra-ti (32), libi (33), mi-ma (34). Written plene: ú-um-ta-aÍ-Íi (l. 9), it-ti-ka (12), li-ib-ba-ka (18), at-ta-a-ma (19), it-ta-ka (22), im-ma (28), ur-ri (31); written defectively: a-Íaka-an? (2), a-ta-i-da a-ta-‰a-ar (3), na-ˇì-<la>-sú (4), a-ka-Íi-im (5) for ak-kâÍim, du-Íu-up-ta-ka (8), [Íu?]-ti (10), Íu-mu-Óa-ak (12), a-sà-Óu-ur (13), Babylonian Literary Texts 56 TRANSLITERATION obv. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 rev. 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 edge 36 ‚a-na-ku?Ÿ [ . . . ] a-Ía-ka-an?-ma x x [x x] a-ta-i-da a-ta-‚‰aŸ-[a]r [x] x / x x [x] --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ú-ul i-de [m]a-rum ‚naŸ-ˇì-<la>-‚súŸ a-ka-‚Íi-imŸ ma-di-iÍ ‚le?Ÿ-qà-‚ku!Ÿ ú-ul uÍ-t[a?-me]-eq a-na m[a-ma-a]n ‚riŸ-Í[a-ni? Óu-u]m?-ˇám-ma ‚naŸ-ra-mu-um [li?]-bi ‚iŸ-te-‚egŸ-ra-am du-‚Íu-up-taŸ-ka --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ú-um-ta-aÍ-Íi a-wa-ti-ia ˇe4-mi <ú>-ul ‰a-ab-ta-‚akŸ ki-ma [Íu?]-ti pa-ni-ti-ia-aÓ-sú-us4-ma Ía Íu-mu-Óa-ak i-li it-ti-ka a-sà-Óu-ur ki-ma aÍ-ti-im a-‚naŸ [la?]-a / ma-ka-‚ki?Ÿ --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------a-da-bu-ub-ka-ma ka-ma-a-a-‚anŸ ak-la-ak du-wa-ku e-we-‚ku?Ÿ Ía-ni-iÍ ú-za-mi-ka a-ta-Íu-uÍ [p]a-ni-ka-mu-ur i-la-at ‚ú-séŸ-le-ka li-i[b]- / ba-ka li-ri-‚Ía!-niŸ at-ta-a-ma mu-di-ti-i-ma ù ra-i-ma-tu lu tu-qà-ku na-as-qá-ku wa-aÍ-ra-tu ù a-ma-[tu] / e-li-k[a] ki-tu-um Íi-ia-ti it-ta-ka ‚daŸ-[mi]-iq-ta! --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------in-bu-ú-a ú-ul Ía mi-Íi da-du-ú-a ú-ul Ía ka-Ía-di e-re-du-ku wa-aÍ-ra-ak ù Íi-ri-ik-ta-ka ra-mi-i-ma ra-i-im-tu a-na Ía [ta-r]a-mu / i-la-am [t]u-‚Íi?Ÿ-[r]e?-‚maŸ --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ia-ti im-ma ir-ti-qá-ni i-na pi-Íi-na ú-ul WA-ri-is Óa?!-bi-bi a-ki-la-at ka-ar-<‰i>-i-a ú-ul i-a-da-ra m[u-Íi] ‚ù urŸ-ri li-<iÓ?>-bu-ub a-a il-qé li-ba-‚kaŸ / sà-r[a-t]i --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------a-na li-bi-[x (x)] x x x x ma-da mi-‚maŸ [x ]x-i ma-l[i?] Ía [x ]x ‚ia-tiŸ d[i?-(x) x] [x (x) ]x-ar ú-u[l x x x] / x x[ x x x] I Shall Be a Slave to You TRANSLATION 1 2 3 I am [ . . . ] I shall place . . . [ . . . ] I shall pay careful attention, I shall watch out [ . . . ] . . . 4 5 6 7 8 Does the darling boy not know the girl who is watching(!) him? To you I am very much attracted(?), I have not [abased(?)] myself to anyone (before). Delight in me, hurry to me, O beloved, your sweetness has given my [heart(?)] a twist. 9 10 11 12 13 I kept letting myself forget what I was going to say, I had no control of my thoughts, as (in) a dream(?). I recalled the one who came before me. I who am blooming with health, my god (is) with you, I appeal (to you) like a wife, so as not to beg(?). 14 15 16 17 18 I think of you constantly, I am consumed, convulsed, tortured(?). Again I yearned for you, 17 I grew ever more distraught, (then) I saw your face, 18 you are a god! I implore you, let your heart delight(?) in me. 19 20 21 22 You it is that makes me feel new(?), and (I swear) a lover truly waits for you. I am chosen (as) the one who will be subservient and a slave to you! In truth, (behold) this woman, your favorable portent! 23 24 25 26 27 My fruits are not things to ignore, my charms are not things (easily) taken. I shall be suitable for you, I shall be subservient, and (my) dowry to you is my love. A lover [brings] luck (lit. a god) to the one she loves. 28 29 30 31 32 As for me, during the day they (fem.) kept away from me, from their speech my darling is not barred. The women who gossip about me, they have no cares by night and day. May your heart make love(?), may it not believe (their) lies! 33 34 35 36 Upon [my] heart . . . . . . with many a thing(?) my [ . . . ] is full(?). . . . me . . . . . . . . . not . . . . . . 57 58 Babylonian Literary Texts NOTES 3. With atta”id atta‰‰ar (both I/2 present) compare the injunction e-Ói-id i‰-‰a-ar “pay attention, be on your guard!” (respectively I/1 impt. and I/2 impt.) in at least two Old Babylonian letters (Kupper 1959: 35 D29: 11 and n. 1). 4. For m⁄rum, literally “son,” “boy,” as a lover’s term of endearment see the references collected in CAD M/1 314, also Black 1983: 28–29. It remains possible that m⁄rum is not the subject of ul ‹de but an interjection: “I do not know, O darling boy, . . . ,” which would better match the second-person address in l. 5; but then I am unable to do anything at all with the last word. 6. The first sign, encroaching as it does on the left edge, has clearly been added as an afterthought. The verb is restored without great confidence; Íut¤muqum elsewhere has the meaning “to pray,” but self-abasement may be what is essentially at issue. 7. The verb ri’⁄Íum is part of the vocabulary of love: see a line of the love lyrics of Nanay and Muati (Lambert 1966: 48 ll. 7–8): riÍa-tim li-ib-‚ba-ÍuŸ tu-Ía-am-la el-‰i-iÍ “She will gladly fill his heart with delight!” 8. Or, reading ‹teqram, “my heart grew in value with respect to your sweetness.” 12. Since enjambement is so rare in Babylonian poetry, the signs i-li must either conceal the line’s main verb, which should be first person, or the line is a nominal clause. Neither ¤li “I went up” nor el’e “I was able” is obviously suitable in terms of sense, nor is either well spelled by i-li. Accordingly I have opted for a nominal clause; the sense of it is perhaps that the woman’s guardian deity has, like her, transferred his attentions to the beloved. 14–15. The small interlinear ma represents a retrospective interpolation in one or other line; I presume that the scribe wanted to alter kayy⁄n to rarer kayyam⁄n. 15. For want of any obvious alternative, duwa-ku is parsed as a rare Old Babylonian attestation of the verb dawûm “to jerk,” here in the II/1 stative. The third verb also needs comment. There are two verbs ewûm. The common ewûm “to change, turn into” is not used absolutively; the rare ewûm occurs only in the Old Babylonian prayer to An›na, in the phrase i-wu-a-an-ni in-ni-na ar-ni (PBS I/1 2, 42, ed. Lambert 1989a: 326 ii 89). This has been translated as “belasten mit (meiner Sünde)” (AHw 267 s.v. ewûm II) and more fully as “Inninna prosecuted me for my guilt” (Lambert 1989a: 330). Clearly it is a verb that expresses the uncomfortable effects of divine retribution, and I have translated ewêku in the present line accordingly. 16–18. The division of lines of poetry into lines of tablet looks faulty. A more even length of line and better sense are to be had by pausing after a-ta-Íu-uÍ and i-la-at: 19. 20. 21. 23. ÍanîÍ | uzamm‹ka | ⁄táÍÍuÍ p⁄n‹k(a) | ⁄mur | il⁄t usell¤ka | líbbaka | lir‹Íánni A word mu-di-tum occurs in the OB love lyric YOS XI 24 i 2: zi-ib-ba-sú il-te-qé mudi-tum! “An experienced woman has taken his tail.” However, a feminine is ruled out here, and instead the spelling mu-di-ti-i is understood to represent muddiÍ‹, another example of the use in Old Babylonian of signs tV for syllables /ÍV/. The particle l› with the present signifying oath occurs also in the OB love dialogue, where the oath is explicit (Held 1961: 9 ll. 6–7: at-ma-ki-im . . . lu a-qá-ab-bi-ki-im “I swear to you . . . that I am telling you”). The erased signs are probably ku wa [aÍ] ra tu, showing that what made the correction necessary was the original omission of qá in nasq⁄ku. “Fruits” is a word full of erotic charge: see the comment on Text No. 8: 10. I Shall Be a Slave to You 25. Cf. the OB love lyric YOS XI 24 ii 9: erte-ed-du-kum la ta-ka-aÍ-Íi-da-an-ni “I grew ever more suitable for you, you could never get rid of me (i.e. tukaÍÍidanni).” 27. The last word is understood as tuÍerremma < er¤bum. 28. im-ma: hardly emm⁄ “they are hot.” 29. The signs WA-ri-is are taken as a faulty spelling of paris or a dialect form of the 59 word with Umlaut (pe-ri-is). The last word is provisionally understood as a *par‹s formation from 3Óbb in the light of Óab⁄bum “to make love”; comparison to ≈ab‹b‹ “my dear,” a term of endearment that punctuates some modern Arabic conversation, can only be superficial, for the two roots are not cognate. A Field Full of Salt No. 10 3285 This tablet, complete but not free from damage, is inscribed with fifty lines of text in a single column. In physical appearance and ungainly ductus the tablet resembles the GilgameÍ tablets, Texts Nos. 5 and 6, and the three may have originated in the same place. The text on this piece is an Old Babylonian poem divided into seven or eight stanzas by double rulings. Two of these stanzas are shared with the lovers’ dialogue now kept in Istanbul as Si 57, edited first by Wolfram von Soden and then by Moshe Held (von Soden 1950, Held 1961, 1962). This latter text, now known as The Faithful Lover, has been revisited more recently by other scholars (Ponchia 1996: 89–93, 115– 19, 150–54; Groneberg 2002; Klein and Sefati 2008) and twice translated in anthologies of Babylonian literature (Hecker 1989: 743–47, Foster 2005: 155–59). The passages common to the two compositions are as follows: 1–8 // The Faithful Lover ii 10–19. The new text includes one line that is absent from The Faithful Lover (l. 4) and omits two lines present in that text (ii 15–16). In addition, it offers, among a few less prominent variants, a different version of the last line of the passage (8 // ii 19). 9–16 // The Faithful Lover i 1–8. The present text is a closer match for this passage of The Faithful Lover, although the first line is substantially different; in addition, one line of The Faithful Lover (i 5) is either absent or lost in the break at the end of l. 11 (where it could have appeared only in a shorter form). There the similarity between the two poems ends. Some of the present composition is not fully understood, but enough emerges to show that it is not a dialogue between an ardent woman and a man who does not bring the same passion to their relationship, but a mono- Pls. 27–30 logue, voiced by a man to a woman when ending their affair. The tone is direct to the point of rudeness. Content A provisional sketch of the contents runs as follows. The man begins by finding the woman’s nonsubmissiveness unattractive (1–2) and announces a suspension of intimacy (3–8). He complains that she talks too much (9–10), disallows a reconciliation (11–12), and asserts his male dominance (13–16). He insults her birth and disparages her looks (17–19), and accuses her of a shameful lack of obedience and an offputting will of her own (20–25). She should look for fault in herself alone, because his previous lovers did not complain (26–27). She, on the other hand, is as much use as a salt-ridden field and, even though he has enjoyed using her body, the sex did not make up for her shortcomings (28–31). The way she is, no one will want to become intimate with her (35–36). She should learn to take care of her man and not make his life painful (37–38). She’s been promiscuous, perhaps (39), and for a young woman she has too strong a will (40–41). But setting her free will be like swallowing a potsherd, and having done that, it would not be easy to speak again (42–45). This image perhaps expresses an anxiety that, once she has left his life, he will not be able to declare his feelings to another. The real cause of the man’s tirade perhaps comes last: the woman lost her head to an admirer and stayed up too late, dancing the night away (46–50). This is not, then, a love poem, but a composition about the end of a relationship. The male voice of the text expresses many classic attitudes of misogyny, both individual and social, revealing a man who is vain, callous, and egocentric. The more he utters the scornful 60 A Field Full of Salt words that revile his lover, the more cruel and unsympathetic he seems, and the poem is thus cleverly unflattering to both sexes at once. As a piece of literature the poem has little charm, but emerges as a remarkable study of the psychology of men’s relationships with women. Its purpose was perhaps satirical, but it may have become a copy book for the sake of its abusive language, which no doubt appealed to the adolescent minds of apprentice scribes. Aspects of Language and Writing The language is plain, perhaps vernacular, but note a superfluous epenthetic vowel in bela-ki (37), if correctly deciphered. The I/1 present of nad⁄num appears as anandin (7); on inaddin : inandin as diagnostic of the provenance of mathematical texts see Goetze 1945: 147, who found the former northern, the latter southern. An example of crasis is ki-ma-Íi-ir (41) for k‹ma ⁄Íir, with elision k‹m-⁄Íir. 61 Mimation is consistently present, with only two exceptions: pu-Ói (17), Ía-at-tu-ú-ri (48). Geminated consonants are usually spelled plene; exceptions are: mu-ka-zi-ib-tam (2), [a-Ó]a-du-ú (31), ma-ma-an (36). There is one example of a short vowel spelled plene in an internal open syllable: u‰-‰i-i-‰i (27), and two in closed syllables: e-ep-Íi-e-et-ki (37), Ía-at-tu-ú-ri (48). There are also four examples of plene spellings of the last syllable of a verb from a finally weak root: ti-Íii (19), [a]-Óa-ad-du-ú (29), aÓ-du-ú (30), [a-Ó]adu-ú (31); contrast a-Ía-aq-qú (4). The repertoire of signs is mostly southern: the syllable /sV/ is expressed with signs from the ZV range: mu-séep-[pi-tam] (1), ú-sà-an-na-qá-a[Í-Íu] (8), sí-in-niiÍ-t[im] (13), sà-ma-an (14), sí-Ói-i-ki (26), sà-assú-ri-i-ki (40); exception: ta-su-úr-ri (48). The syllable /pi/ is consistently written pi: li-pi-ittam (19), ú-pe-e (24), pi-a-am (33). 62 Babylonian Literary Texts TRANSLITERATION obv. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 rev. 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 [e-ze]-‚eŸ-er la ‚muŸ-sé-‚epŸ-[pi-tam] ‚ú-ulŸ a-Óa-aÍ-Íi-iÓ la mu-ka-‚ziŸ-ib-tam ú-ul a-na-ad-di-iÍ-Íi-im i-ri-mi a-Ía-aq-qú el-Ía da-ba-bu-um a-na la ma-ga-r[i-i]m mi-nam i-ba-aÍ-[s]i? a-Íar li-ib-bi ek-le-[tim a-na-a]n-di-in ra-mi ú-ul ú-sà-an-na-qá-a[Í-Íu ma-am]-ma-an --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Óu-u‰-bi ez-bi ta-aÍ-t[a-ak-ni? q]ú-li la ma-gal da-[ba-bu-um] qá-bé-e qá-bu-um-m[a x x x x] ú-ul e-n[i-a-ak-ki-i]m Ía a-na sí-in-ni-iÍ-t[im ip-pa-ra-qá-du] sà-ma-an du-ri-im [Íu-ú] Íum-ma la i[t-qú-ud] ‚ú-ulŸ a-wi-lum m[i-Ói-ir-Íu] --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ma-‚ra?Ÿ-[a]t pu-Ói wa-a[l-da-ti] i-na [la] Íi-ri-[ik-tim] ti-Íi-i li-‚piŸ-it-tam [i-na p]u?-‚timŸ a-di ‚tuŸ-qál-la-l[i] ta-[ab-t]a?-aÍ-Íi lu-uq-bi-ki-im Ía aÍ-‚riŸ-[ki] ú-ul te-Íi-im-me-en-ni at-‚tiŸ wa-ar-ku li-ib-bi-i-ki ú-‚pe-eŸ ra-ak-ba-ti-i-ma ru-ú-Óa-am tu-uk-ta-na-aÍ-Ía-di --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------e[t?]-qé-et a-li bu-ur sí-Ói-i-ki u‰-‰i-i-‰i pa-ni-a-tim ki-ma eqel(a.Íà)el id-ra-ni-im [a]-Óa-ad-du-ú ka-la-a-ma [a]Ó!-du-ú in-ba-am [a-Ó]a-‚du-úŸ ka-la-[a-ma] ù? [ . . . . . . . . . ] pi-a-‚amŸ [ . . . . . . ] ra-i-mu-u[m . . . . . . ] --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------‚laŸ ta!(Ía)-aÍ-ta-a[k-ka-ni x x ]x-nu-um a-na pa-ti-i-‚ki ma-ma-anŸ [ú]-ul i-ˇe4-eÓ-<Óe>-Íi be-‚la?Ÿ-ki e-ep-Íi-e-et-ki i-na ‚ˇaŸ-ab-tim la ta-Ía-ak-ka-ni eqel(a.Íà)-ki! Óu-uk-ku-um --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Ía la tu-ub!-lim i-na sà-as-sú-ri-i-ki A Field Full of Salt 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 TRANSLATION [I] spurn the girl who will not worship (me), I have no desire for one who does not fawn. I shall not give her my Love Charm, I shall rise above her. Speaking up in order to disagree, how can that be shameful [on] her(?) account. [I shall] hand over my love to the midst of darkness, no one shall gain control of [it]. 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 Break off, leave, you have [put me in a] stupor, not so much chatter! What I said is what is said, [my words] I have not revoked [on your] account. He who [lies supine] for a woman: a weevil(?) from the city wall [is he!] If he is not self-[centered], [his kind] is not a man. 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 [You were] born the daughter(?) of a substitute, with [no] dowry; you have a birthmark [on the] forehead(?). While you show no respect, you [put yourself] to shame. Let me tell you how it is with [you]: you do not listen to me, (you do) as you please, riding the clouds, you drive every boyfriend away. 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 It is too much! Where is the source of your trouble-making? Ask the women who came before you! (You are?) like a field full of salt: [should I] take pleasure in all of (you)? [I took] pleasure in the fruit: [should I take] pleasure in all of (you)? and(?) [ . . . . . . . . . ] mouth [ . . . . . . . . . ] lover [ . . . . . . . . . ] 35 36 37 38 39 You must not [put . . . ] . . . to your canal no one will go near. Your master (is) your task, you must not put (him?) in salt(?). Your field is well explored(?). 40 You, who have not brought forth from your womb, 63 Babylonian Literary Texts 64 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 ki-ma-Íi-ir ni-Íi ˇe4-e-ma-am <taÍakkan‹?> a-na-ku iÍ-Ói-il-‰a-am a-la-a-at ka-al-ba-tam ú-uÍ-Ía-ar la-i-im ab-nim a-na wa-Ía-ri-i-ki ma-ti qá-ba-a-‚ÍuŸ li-iÍ-ku-un --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Íu-ur-ru-um-ma at-ti i-nu-ma iq-ri-ba-a[k-ki-im] ki-ma dbi-li-li ta-‚duŸ-um-mi ta-su-úr-ri [Í]a-at-tu-ú-ri a-na ‰a-la-li-im te-em-mi-di ni-zi-iq-tam ra-ma-a[n-ki] NOTES 1. Formerly musepp‹tam was parsed from suppûm “to abduct” (Held 1961: 17, translating “seduce”; CAD M/2 235). The newly recovered parallel at the end of l. 2 demonstrates that we must take it instead from suppûm “to pray,” as Groneberg already proposed (2002: 179 n. 5). She, however, read the first word as e-sé-er “Ich setze dich fest.” 3. The word ir‹m‹ is here an attribute of a man’s lovemaking, surely a euphemism; see further the note on Text No. 8: 22. 5. The traces on the photograph of The Faithful Lover can now be seen also to read la ma-g[a-ri-im] (von Soden 1949: 168 ii 13). 7. The Faithful Lover omits libbi (ii 17): a-Íaar ‚ekŸ-l[e-tim] looks possible on the photograph (von Soden 1949: 168); von Soden did not read the trace after aÍar, Held read zi-[ . . . ] (1961: 7). The meaning of the image of love stowed away in the dark is perhaps that he will not allow any one easy access to it. Alternatively restore aÍar libb‹ iq-li-[lu] “a place where my heart grew lighter.” For anandin r⁄m‹ the parallel has (ii 18) ra-mi at-ta-di “I have cast aside my love.” 8. The Faithful Lover reads differently (ii 19): mi-nam tu-sa-an-na-qá-ni-i[n-ni] “why are you (pl.) pestering me?” 9. Only ezb‹ occurs in this line’s counterpart in The Faithful Lover (i 1). 10–13. Restored from The Faithful Lover (i 2– 6). Line 11 may have ended with a version of i 5: at-wa-a-am ma-li ‰a-ab-ta-a-ku “whatever words I own,” which otherwise finds no place here. 14. The counterpart of the phrase sam⁄n d›rim in The Faithful Lover has usually been read as (i 7) sa-ki-il Ía-ri-im, following Held, who relied on collations by Oppenheim, Kraus, and Çıè (Held 1961: 6 “one who hoards wind,” 1962: 37), but also as ‰⁄rim Í⁄rim “[one who] collects empty air” (Groneberg 2002: 168). However, the second, third, and fourth signs are damaged and the tablet was reported to have deteriorated; von Soden read sa-ma-an du-ri-im from the photograph, and it seems he was right. His interpretation, which was provisional, was “Eid der Dauer” (von Soden 1950: 173). This is problematic for two reasons: (1) samnu “oath” is otherwise known only from late literary Babylonian, and (2) the word for “eternity” is normally in the absolute state, d›r. Also the sense is difficult. Consequently I have adopted a different interpretation, which accords well with the text’s misogynistic attitude in general and with l. 16 in particular: men who do a woman’s bidding instead of placing themselves first are no better than insects. The A Field Full of Salt 41 42 43 44 45 you [impose(?)] (your) will like someone instructing the people. Must I swallow a potsherd and let the bitch go? One who swallows a stone to let you go, when could he have his say? 46 47 48 50 Actually, when (some one) came near [you], like the goddess Belili you were staggering about, dancing around in the early hours, imposing suffering 49 on the night-owl 50 all by yourself. sam⁄num is a pest known to have lived in walls: sam⁄num Ía igarim “s. from a wall” is an occasional ingredient of medical recipes and apotropaic media (see the references collected in CAD S 112). 15–16. Restored from The Faithful Lover (i 8). 17. The “daughter of a substitute”: a baby girl exchanged at birth? 19. The translation assumes that lipittum is a synonym of liptum, as elsewhere. A liptum on the skin is a kind of birthmark or other livid coloring. Such marks on the forehead are noted in ll. 2–3 of the physiognomic series fiumma liptu (ed. Böck 2000: 174). A liptum on the right side of the forehead predestines poverty (ilappin), an omen that is in harmony with the prejudice displayed in the present context. 26. s‹Óum: mischief-making in a relationship is expressed by the cognate verb in Text No. 12: 3: l⁄ teseÓÓ¤ma “don’t cause trouble.” 30. “Fruit”: a metaphor for the body as a sex object (see the note on Text No. 8: 10). 36. “Canal”: a metaphor for the vagina. Similar imagery occurs not only in Babylonian incantations to aid childbirth, which describe a baby stuck in the birth-canal in terms of a boat waiting to be cast off from the landing stage to float free on the river, but also, more pertinently, in a Sumerian love spell in which a would-be lover fan- 65 tasizes about the woman he desires lying in bed like a “joyous canal provided with shade” (Geller 2002: 136–37 l. 7: pa6 Óúl.la an.dúl ak.àm). 39. The word written Óu-uk-ku-um is parsed from Óak⁄mum “to understand”; on the II/ 1 infinitive of this verb in Old Babylonian recipes see Bottéro 1995: 32–33, who translates “calculer, compter.” There is probably a reference here to a well-attested metaphor for sexual intercourse, found predominantly in Sumerian poetry but also in Babylonian, in which the man plows the woman’s field (Lambert 1987: 31–33, Sefati 1998: 90–93, and Text No. 12: 20–21). A field that is Óukkum is perhaps one that too many men have gotten to know. 41. The word written TE-e-ma-am cannot supply a verb in 2nd fem. sing., so is parsed from the noun ˇ¤mum. The main verb of the sentence has evidently been omitted in error. In seeking to restore it, one observes that the line should provide a contrast with l. 40: the woman’s behavior is in some way inappropriate to her status as an unmarried woman. ˇ¤mum “initiative, will” is exactly what such a junior person could not exercise in Babylonian society. I cannot find sense in taking Íi-ir ni-Íi as Í‹r niÍ‹ “flesh of the people,” though it is good Babylonian expression, attested in connection with 66 Babylonian Literary Texts the people’s well-being and comfort (e.g. CH i 47). Instead I have found a solution in crasis. 42. Parsing a-la-a-AD from the verb lâˇum (I/1 pres. alâˇ) “to shackle” does not yield sense. There is an undeniable parallel between ll. 42–43 and ll. 44–45, in which iÍÓil‰am a-la-a-AD is the counterpart to l⁄’im abnim “one who swallowed a stone.” That being so, a-la-a-AD would appear to derive from la’⁄tum, also “to swallow,” for which it is the first Old Babylonian form yet known. In later Babylonian this verb is u/u class, but the present instance suggests that in the Old Babylonian period it conjugated as an a/u-class verb. 47. Belili is the sister who mourned for Dumuzi. The allusion of the simile of this line may be to a lack of self-restraint that in other circumstances is behavior typical of mourning. May She Throw Herself at Me! A Love Incantation No. 11 2920 Pls. 31–32 Content This small Old Babylonian tablet, undamaged except for the top left corner, is inscribed on the obverse only with sixteen lines in a single column of text. The reverse is blank. The text is a short poem in Akkadian that is best described as a love spell (Liebeszauber). This is a rare genre of Old Babylonian magic (Cunningham 1997: 111); the only other texts that certainly belong to this genre are a longer incantation now in Yale and published as YOS XI 87 (ed. van Dijk et al. 1985: 50) and the spells assembled on a tablet excavated at Isin (Wilcke 1985, Scurlock 1989–90, Cooper 1996). The former is spoken by a male seeking the attention of a woman. The situation is more confused in the tablet from Isin, in which male and female subjects occur, sometimes within the same incantation. In this matter the Yale text is the nearer parallel, for the present text is voiced solely by a man to a woman (referred to in the second and third persons) and shares with it some motifs. Spells voiced by men seeking love are known also from other periods, the Old Akkadian and the Neo-Assyrian (MAD V 8, ed. Groneberg 2001; KAR 61 and 69, ed. Biggs 1967: 71–78). A further difficult example from Boèazköy has been characterized as Liebeszauber because it is voiced by a man (KBo XXXVI 27, ed. Schwemer 2004). However, this incantation is embedded in a ritual that appears to be therapy for male impotence and is generically to be associated more closely with the later Íaziga material than with spells that seek to capture a woman’s love. The subject of ancient Mesopotamian love magic is treated by R. D. Biggs in his contribution on Liebeszauber in the Reallexikon der Assyriologie, and by Gwendolyn Leick in a chapter on “Love Magic and Potency Incantations” (Biggs 1987, Leick 1994: 193– 210). The psychology of Mesopotamian Liebeszauber is examined by Mark Geller (2002). Many ancient Mesopotamian incantations begin with a repetition, and the incipit of the present text is restored accordingly as pitarrassi pitarrassi, though some signs are not well written and the final si is omitted. These imperatives are masculine singular; it is uncertain who is addressed. Nevertheless, the sense of this incipit is clear enough: the would-be suitor calls on some benign force to keep the object of his desire isolated, so that she cannot fall prey to the attentions of a rival. If I understand it correctly, the text goes on to reveal that these words were once spoken by the Daughters of Heaven when they were cleaning the sky, at which time Love was spontaneously created with the purpose of bringing the experience of courtship and lovemaking to mankind (ll. 2–5). These lines, which form a quatrain of regular Babylonian poetry, thus present a little myth concerning the creation of Love. Incantations often relate myths that tell the origins of the topic at hand; the generic term for such passages is historiola. The Old Akkadian love spell is prefaced by a comparable historiola about the origin of what seems to be the Babylonian Cupid (OAkk. ir’emum). The Daughters of Heaven are beings of folklore well known from incantations, usually benevolent and disposed to help mankind in time of trouble (Farber 1990). Marten Stol has suggested that the expression “might be a literary designation for clouds” (Veenhof 1996: 432), but here they seem to have the attribute nipiÓ Íamê, which implies that they were luminous as well as celestial. Perhaps they were identified with rays of light in the sky, i.e. sunbeams (see the note on l. 2). This would add further meaning to the claim made for them in an incantation against sorcery that, when visiting witches to collect their left-overs, the Daughters of Anu of Heaven “came to light 67 68 Babylonian Literary Texts dusk’s brazier” (Maqlû III 39: Íá li-la-a-ti Óu-lupa-qa a-na Íá-ra-pi ni-il-li-ka). If the Daughters of Heaven were visualized as sunbeams, the incantation conjures up an image of the rays of the sun springing from the red hues of sunset, forming a heavenly brazier in which the witches’ rubbish is rendered harmless by incineration. The incantation was recited during a nocturnal ritual in which the exorcist burns figurines and materials symbolic of the sorcerer and his media in a brazier, as described by Tzvi Abusch (1989: 348). The imagery of the Daughters of Heaven invoked in the Maqlû incantation is thus itself a celestial counterpart, repeated nightly, of the ritual conducted on earth. The following lines of the present text are a couplet voicing the suitor’s wish that he fall under Love’s spell and gain the opportunity to make amorous suggestions to the girl (ll. 6–7). What he intends to say to her is then quoted in the form of two further couplets: he wants her to think of him as a certain kind of snake, so that sexual desire overcomes her like a wild cow and she pays no attentions to the warnings of her parents (ll. 8–11). The image of the snake is obviously phallic. The wantonness of wild cows is less easy to document but cows were held to be physically pretty and sexually alluring, for it was a beautiful cow that the moon-god found irresistible in Babylonian folklore (Veldhuis 1991), and the lovesick suitor of a Sumerian love spell likens the woman he desires to a cow (Geller 2002: 136–37 ll. 3–4).1 The incantation continues with a triplet envisaging the desired one as a woman of special status, a qadiÍtum, nad‹tum, or kezertum (ll. 12–14). A variant of this motif is used also in the Yale incantation, in which only the first two of these ladies appear, but in exactly parallel expressions: ‚ÍumŸ-ma qá-áÍ-‚daŸ-at li-im-qú-‚ut daŸ-du-Ía-a ‚ÍumŸ-ma na-di-a-‚atŸ mu-pí-ir-Ía li-im-qú-ut YOS XI 87 7–10 1 Jens Braarvig reminds me that Homer knew Hera as bo-ôpis “cow-eyed,” evidently an epithet signifying attractiveness. If she is a hierodule, may her darling perish, if she is a cloister-lady, may the one who provides for her2 perish! These three classes of women had in common that they could own property and conduct their own business. What the would-be lover appears to envisage is that, conquered by love for him, each would surrender her position and, with it, her independence. Thus the kezretum would close her business and devote herself to him (l. 14). It is unclear exactly what is meant by the qadiÍtum’s imdum (l. 12) and the nad‹tum’s biblum (l. 13), especially with the verbs lost in the break at the lines’ end. A biblum is a gift of the kind usually taken by a groom to his prospective father-in-law. The parents of a nad‹tum received one from the cloister (gagûm) when she entered it (Harris 1964: 109); if so, the suitor will wish that she surrender it, as a symbol of her desertion of her position. Likewise, the qadiÍtum’s imdum might refer to whatever means allowed her independence, in this case income for services rendered: these women are known to have acted as wet-nurses and midwives. Alternatively one may consider that biblum and imdum could be euphemisms for sexual favors, and that the missing verbs convey not the notion of “abandon for me” but instead “surrender to me.” The incantation is concluded by a standard assertion in prose that the spell is the work not of a mere man but of a higher authority, in this case Ea, god of magic, and IÍtar, goddess of love (ll. 15–16). 2 Previous commentators have read mubbirÍa “her accuser” but this sits ill with d⁄dum in the parallel line and with the understanding of the line brought to the text by the spell published here, which shows that nadi’at is not a “fallen woman” but the well-known nad‹tum. I parse mu-pí-ir-Ía from ep¤rum “to provision” (not previously found in the II/1 stem) and presume that muppirum refers to a man who looked after the nad‹tum’s needs, whom the would-be suitor understandably wishes out of the way. May She Throw Herself at Me! Aspects of Language and Writing The language and orthography of the tablet call for little comment. Mimation is lacking on two occasions: aÍ-nu-ga-a-li (l. 8), hardly plural; and ia-tu (15). Geminated consonants are usually written plene; lu-ta-wu-ú and lu-ra-Ói-im (7) are necessarily defective, but note also Óu-us-sí-ni-ima (8), aÍ-ta-ma-Ía (14), ia-tu (15) and, with preceding vowel written plene, aÍ-nu-ga-a-li (8). The Auslaut of verb forms from finally weak roots is spelled inconsistently: compare i-ba-aÍ-Íi (5), lu-ud-di and lu-uq-bi (7) with lu-ta-wu-ú (7) and te-el-qé-e (11). Spelling conventions are mixed: the syllable /si/ is written with si (l. 1) in the environment /ssi/ < /s/+Íi, but elsewhere sí: Óu-us-sí-ni (8); these are southern conventions. By contrast, /pi/ is written northernstyle, with pí: pí-ta-ar-ra-as (1), ni-pí-iÓ (2). TRANSLITERATION obv. 1 2 3 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 [pí-ta-ar-r]a!-as-si pí-ta-ar-ra-as!-<si> [ma-r]a-at a-ni-im ni-pí-iÓ Ía-me-e [ki-a]-am ú-ul-li-la-a-ma 4 [Í]a-me-e Ía anim(an.na) i-ba-aÍ-Íi ra-mu-um e-li ni-Íi i-‚Óa!Ÿ-ap-pu-up ra-mu-um li-iÓ-pu-pa-am i-na ‚‰eŸ-ri-‚iaŸ lu-ud-di lu-uq-bi lu-ta-wu-ú ‚lu-raŸ-Ói-im Óu-us-sí-ni-i-ma ki-ma aÍ-nu-ga-‚aŸ-li li-iÓ-Íu-‚ÍuŸ pa-nu-ki!(tablet: KU) ki-ma ri-im-ti-i[m] e tu-uÍ-bi a-na mi-li-ik a-bi-‚kiŸ e te-el-qé-e mi-li-ik um-mi-k[i] Íum-ma qá-aÍ-da-‚atŸ im-da-Ía l[i-x x] Íum-ma na-di-a-‚atŸ bi-bi-il-Ía l[i-x x] Íum-ma ‚keŸ-ez-re-et li-qá-ab-bi-ir aÍ-ta-ma-Ía e-li-ia li-im-qú-u[t] 15 Íi-i[p-t]um ú-ul ia-tu 16 Íi-‚pa-atŸ é-a ù diÍtar(inanna) iÍ-ku-nu rev. not inscribed 1 2 3 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 69 TRANSLATION “[Keep] her apart, keep [her] apart!” [The] daughters of Anum, the lights of the sky, thus did purify 4 the heavens of Anum, while Love came into being to make love to the people. May Love make love to me also, so I can cast (this spell), speak, talk, flirt (with her): “Think of me as an aÍnugallum-snake, so your mood grows wanton as a wild cow! Do not wait on your father’s counsel, do not heed your mother’s advice!” If she is a hierodule may she [ . . . ] her “support,” if she is a cloister-lady may she [ . . . ] her “gift,” if she is a harlot may she wind up her brothel, may she throw herself at me! The incantation is not mine, 16 it is an incantation that Ea and IÍtar provided. 70 Babylonian Literary Texts NOTES 2. In connection to celestial bodies the word nipÓum is usually translated “rising” or the like, but its root clearly shows that what is at issue is not movement over the horizon but the bursting forth of light that accompanies that movement (cf. nap⁄Óum “to kindle,” nanpuÓum “to flare up”). The translation offered here is made in the light of the equation of ni-ip-Óu with Íá-ru-ru “beams of light” in the synonym list An IX 9. The phrase nipiÓ Íamê might at first sight look like the object of ullil⁄ma, but that would leave Íamê Ía Anim in l. 4 marooned. For that reason I take it as an attribute of m⁄r⁄t Anim in apposition. 5. The verb at the end of the line (and in l. 6) is certainly the one usually booked as Óab⁄bum, which is also construed with eli in GilgameÍ (OB II 34, SB I 186 etc.). Another example of the variant Óap⁄pum may occur in Maqlû III 107: at-ti-e Íá tu-Óap-pipi-in-ni “you (witch), who made love to me”; for the II/1 stem with direct object see the Íaziga-incantation KAR 70: 46–47 (ed. Biggs 1967: 31): Óu-ub-bi-ban-ni . . . ritka-ban-ni “make love to me . . . mount me!” 9. The expression liÓÍuÍ› p⁄n›ki means literally “may your face light up with lust.” The tablet of love spells from Isin provides a close parallel in a context of physical love, IB 1554: 33–34: li-iÓ-du-ú li-ib-bu-ú-ki li-iÓÍu-Ía ka-ab-ta-ta-ki “let your heart grow glad, your mood randy” (ed. Wilcke 1985: 200). The equation of ÓaÍ⁄Íum with Sum. Ói.li “sexual allure” in Nabn‹tu IV 240 renders explicit this verb’s connection with sexual desire. 14. The verb qubburum, literally “to bury,” is also used to signify rolling up in cloth prior to burial. By extension, it came to describe an activity that occurred when breaking camp, as seen from a Standard Babylonian incantation against LamaÍtu in which this demon is adjured to depart as if taking down her tent (IV R2 56 iii 47): us-Ói giÍ sikk⁄ti(gag)meÍ-ki qu-ub-bi-ri qé-e-ki “Pull out your pegs, roll up your cords!” Probably the pegs and cords were rolled up in the tent’s fabric, like a body in a winding sheet or shroud. The first of the two verbs in this line, nas⁄Óum “to uproot,” can be used by itself in Old Babylonian as an idiom denoting a person’s removal from a place (e.g. the letter TCL XVII 60: 7: ús-Óa-am-ma atla-kam “up sticks and get moving”). The present instance of qubburum, with aÍtammum “alehouse, brothel” as object, makes sense only if this verb can be used similarly and, therefore, I take it as an idiom for closing down a house and moving out. 15–16. The formula Íiptum ul yattum Íipat DN (u DN etc.) is standard. For its use in Old Babylonian incantations see Cunningham 1997: 119–20; more generally see the references collected in CAD fi/3: 88 b 1. In discussing the formula’s distribution as known forty years ago, Robert Biggs noted that the formula occurred “only in texts for exorcising demons” (Biggs 1967: 39). That is certainly not the case here, where the speaker of the spell seeks not to be free of his lovesickness, but to win the attention of the object of his desire. In the Light of the Window Incipits of Love Songs and Other Poems? No. 12 3391 Pls. 33–36 of incipits. The first line continues the theme of the preceding nine and uses explicitly sexual language (10). The second alludes to Adad as the divine gugallum (11). The third continues on to a second line and refers to wild animals in what may be a proverbial saying or metaphor (12–13). The remainder is perhaps also one incipit of unidentified genre, likewise spread over two lines (13–14). The third and fourth sections present increasing difficulty for the decipherer and are presented here in a highly provisional transliteration. While erotic language occurs occasionally (19, 20–21), the rest of the text is not obviously love-related; these sections are perhaps proverbs, riddles, or other sayings. This slightly misshapen tablet is complete but for its lower left-hand corner. It is inscribed in ruled lines on the obverse and upper threefifths of the reverse. The thirty-seven lines of text are punctuated with three double rulings at irregular intervals and terminated with another double ruling. The script is a clumsy but unremarkable Old Babylonian hand. Content The tablet contains text of a highly unusual kind. The first nine lines are love poetry, partly in the male voice, partly in the female. The language of these opening nine lines varies from tender lyricism to explicit eroticism. Although some lines may belong together, the passage as a whole is beset with semantic inconsequences and does not work as a dialogue. Language and content both suggest a succession of independent statements. Accordingly I suggest that these lines present incipits of love poems, most of them in single lines, others perhaps in couplets (ll. 1–2, 8–9?). Tablets that collect incipits of poems, including love poetry, are known from later periods. A small piece of Middle or early Neo-Babylonian date collects the first two lines of six cultic love songs (Finkel 1988). A large Middle Assyrian tablet from AÍÍur, published as KAR 158 and first edited by Erich Ebeling (1922), once held the incipits of some four hundred compositions in Sumerian and Akkadian, including much Babylonian love poetry (see further Black 1983: 25–29, Limet 1996, Nissinen 2001: 121–23, Groneberg 2003, Klein and Sefati 2008: 619–22). A second section of five lines is marked off by rulings. This passage also makes no sense as connected text and is probably also a collection Aspects of Language and Writing There are two, possibly three, examples of proclitic prepositions: in-n›r (l. 6), ab-bunti (8), ikk‹da? (36); the last follows an unusual apocopated dative suffix, attad‹Í (36), and the decipherment of both words is not secure. A possible example of crasis is bi-ti-e-mi-ka (22) for b‹t em‹ka. Contraction of /i’a/ to /â/ occurs three times: iÍ-Ía-a (15), a-na-iÍ-Ía-a (18) and wa-‰a-at (34), against uncontracted pe-te-at (20), x-di-at (27) and wa-‰i-at (35). Mimation is often lacking: a-bu-un-ti (8), gu-ga-al-la (11), sa-mu-tu (12), iÍ-Ía-a (15), naap-Ía-ri (16), qá-at-nu-ti (17), a-na-iÍ-Ía-a (18), li‰ú-ni (22), ka-lu-ú (30), Ía-Ói-tu (31), i-Ía-tu (32), e-re-nu (33), mu-‰i-i (37). Geminated consonants are more often written plene – iz-zi-iz-zi (1), Íum-ma a‰-‰a-la-al di-ke-en-ni at-ti (2), ak-kuuÍ (3), mu-ta-al-li-ik-ti (4), lu-up-pa-al-sà-ak-ka (6), ra-mi-im-ma (7), ar-ra-ak, i‰-‰é-he-ra-ka (9), gu-ga-al-la (11), iz-za-az-ma (12), iÍ-Ía-a (15), 71 Babylonian Literary Texts 72 lu-pí-iÍ-Íi (16), a-na-iÍ-Ía-a (18), az-za-az (25), te-el-li (28), mu-uÓ-Ói (34, 35), at-ta-di-iÍ (36) – than defectively: te-sé-Óe-e-ma (3), mu-ta-al-li-ikti ta-ta-la-ak a-la-la-ni (4), te-te-bé-e-ma (5), a-buun-ti (8), i‰-‰é-he-ra-ka (9), i-Ía-ka-an (15), e-reÍa-Íi-na (20), e-re-Íi-Ía (21), ra-qá-at (26), tu-ra-ad (28), a-nu-um (33), na-ba?-sú (34), lu-qú-sú (35). The syllable /sV/ is usually spelled with signs from the /ZV/ range: te-sé-Óe-e-ma (3), luup-pa-al-sà-ak-ka (6), sí-sí-im (28), na-ba?-sú (34), lu-qú-sú (35); differently sa-mu-tu (12), because from 3s’m (Westenholz 2006: 254). The syllable /pi/ is spelled pi: di-pi-ir (3), but also pí: lu-pí-iÍ- Íi (16), if correctly deciphered; /ˇu/ is spelled with DU: ˇù-li-ma-am (16). A broken orthography occurs in a-na-iÍ-Íaa (18) for anaÍÍâ. Other unusual spellings are ú (28) for the conjunction u (but ù in l. 18), and ul (12, 21) for the negative particle ul, normally úul (24, 25). Such inconsistencies of spelling may be a further indication that the text inscribed on this tablet is a compilation of material from a variety of sources, but that does not explain the presence of both wa-‰a-at and wa-‰i-at in ll. 34– 35, which are clearly parts of a single passage. TRANSLITERATION obv. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 rev. 23 24 25 26 27 28 ‚iŸ-na nu-úr a-pa-‚ti-imŸ iz-zi-iz-z[i] Íum-ma a‰-‰a-la-al ‚diŸ-ke-en-ni ‚at-tiŸ ak-ku-uÍ di-pi-ir la te-sé-Óe-e-ma mu-ta-‚alŸ-li-‚ik-tiŸ ta-ta-la-ak a-la-la-ni ra-bu-um ra-bu-‚umŸ la te-te-bé-e-ma lu-up-pa-al-sà-‚akŸ-ka in nu-‚úrŸ a-pa-ti-im i nu-‚uÍ-taŸ-aq-ti ‚ne!-pi-iÍ!Ÿ-tu ra-mi-im-ma a-bu-un-ti lu-uÍ-tu-uÓ-m[a] ar-ra-ak Ía? pi-ri-im i‰-‰é-Óe-ra-{am (ras.?)}-k[a] ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------i ni-iq/g-ri ki-‰a/sà-al-l[a] ‚úŸ-ra-Ía ‚maŸ-aÍ-Óa-at gu-ga-al-la i-la-am Ía-‚al-ma?Ÿ i-lam ‚x-Ía?Ÿ-a-‚niŸ ri-mu-um ul {ras.} iz-za-az-ma ar-mu-ú ‚saŸ-mu-tu li-‰ú?-ni-im? {ras.} i-im-ta-Íu-uÓ? x x x iÍ-‚kuŸ-un-ma i-qá-al ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------iÍ-Ía-a a-bu-ba-am i-Ía-‚kaŸ-an mi-na-am lu-pí-iÍ-Íi a!-a!-[r]a-am ˇù-li-ma-am p‹(ka) na-ap-Ía-ri ka-bu-ut al-pi-im Íe-er-a-ni qá-at-nu-ti pa-at-ra-am ù me-Íi-il-ta-am a-na-iÍ-Ía-a {a} lu-x x ti ri ri a-Óa-at a-bi-ki! lu-ni-ik ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------[wa-a]-‚‰iŸ-at pe-te-at Íi-na e-re-Ía-Íi-na [x x ]x x a-na Ía-ni-im e-re-Íi-Ía ul r¤’ûm(sipa) [x x x ]x li-‰ú-ni a-na! bi-ti e-mi-ka / x x-ra-Íu-nu x x [x x x] ni x[ . . . . . . ]x-kum ‚ub?Ÿ-lu a-n[a wa?]-ar-du-‚ú-tim? úŸ-ul a-ba-a[Í]-‚kaŸ ‚ú-ulŸ az-za-az ma-Óa-ar ib-ri-‚iaŸ ‚iŸ-ir-ti ra-qá-‚atŸ i-na-a pu-‰a-‚tum maŸ-li-I° [na?]-di-at ú-ba-ni ‰e-Óe-er-tum pe-er-x sí?-sí-im te-el-li ú tu-ra-ad In the Light of the Window 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 73 TRANSLATION Stand (fem. sg.) in the light of the window! If I go to sleep, wake (fem. sg.) me up! I am going, be off (masc. sg.), don’t cause trouble! My restless girl takes herself off like a hoopoe. O big one, big one (masc.), do not arise! Let me gaze on you (masc. sg.) by the light of the window! Let us perform to its end the act(?) of love! Let me grow long for the girl! It is so long, an elephant’s seems smaller than yours! 10 11 12 13 14 Let us . . . , she is plundered as to her vulva. Ask the canal-inspector god and . . . me the god. The wild bull is not present, so let the red gazelles come forth! He has robbed . . . . He placed, keeping silent. 15 16 17 18 19 He brought the Deluge, achieving what? I shall deck her out with flowers(?): spleen, the mouth of the gullet, ox’s dung, thin sinews! I am picking up knife and blade. [ . . . ] . . . I wish to have sex with your aunt! 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 She is promiscuous, she is open: two are the men that “plow” them (fem.). [ . . . ] . . . to the second of her plowmen, “(Are you) not a shepherd?” [ . . . ] may they come out, to your (masc. sg.) father-in-law’s house, their (masc.) . . . [ . . . ] . . . [ . . . ] to you they brought(?). By slavery(?) I shall not shame myself in your eyes, I shall not wait on my friend. My chest is undeveloped, my eyes are full of flecks. My little finger is [bent(?)] down: the mane(?) of a horse(?), she goes up and down. 74 Babylonian Literary Texts 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 a-‚naŸ [d]a-ar Ía-na-tim da-ar ‚er-béŸ-et ‚Ía?Ÿ-ar ‚ùŸ Óa-am-Íi-‚iÍ?Ÿ lu?-‰í-ku-‚um kaŸ-lu-ú né-‚meŸ-lum Ía ‚⁄li(uru)ki?Ÿ-ka iÍ-qí?-ka Ía-Ói-tu x-di-x-ka i-Ía-tu li-ku-ul Íar(lugal) m⁄tim(kalam) ‚aŸ-nu-um ki? ˇa-ab e-re-nu ‚iŸ-na mu-uÓ-Ói ‚e-reŸ-ni-im na-ba?-sú wa-‰a-at i-na mu-uÓ-Ói na-ba-ki lu-qú-‚sú wa-‰iŸ-at iÍ-Ía-al la ZU-da e-er-Ía at-ta-di-iÍ ik!-‚kiŸ-da wa-‰e-e mu-‰i-i iÍ-Ía-al la ZU-da NOTES 1. Windows are not in great supply in traditional Mesopotamian houses, so a-pa-tim here and in l. 6 is taken as singular aptim modified by a superfluous epenthetic vowel, rather than as plural ap⁄tim. The expression n›r apatim recurs in l. 6, and also in the OB lament to IÍtar (Groneberg 1997: 223 l. 81, with Streck 2003b: 309): ki-ma nu-ur apa-ti-im “like light shining through a window.” 3. The imperative dipir is an example of the I/1 stem of a verb normally found in the II/1 stem, duppurum. 4. The word allall⁄ni adds a further comparative example to the small number of Old Babylonian adverbs formed with -⁄ni. On these see Farber 1982, who documents gall⁄ni “like a g.-demon,” r‹m⁄ni “like a wild bull,” kalb⁄ni “like a dog,” and till⁄ni “like a ruin-mound,” all comparative, and also distributive miÍl⁄ni “in halves”; others adverbs so formed, also not comparative, are w¤d⁄ni “alone” in OB GilgameÍ IM 6 (ed. George 2003: 270) and ap⁄ni “by the window” in the incantation YOS XI 19: 13 (ed. van Dijk et al. 1985: 25). 7. The decipherment of the penultimate word is highly provisional; it presumes a construct state bearing the literary ending -u. 8. The word written a-bu-un-ti is understood as ab-bunti(m), i.e. buntum “daughter” with proclitic preposition. The word buntum is hitherto known only in an Old Assyrian 9. 11. 12. 15. incantation (BIN IV 126: 5, ed. von Soden 1956: 142), but later Babylonian possesses both bunatu and its variant bintu. Also in favor of allowing buntum in this Old Babylonian incipit is the fact that kinship terms such as m⁄rum “son” and m⁄rtum “daughter” are routinely used of the beloved in Babylonian love poetry (for m⁄rum so used see Text No. 9: 4; for m⁄rtum see No. 8: 1). In this line, which seems to be the woman’s reaction to the proposition put forward in l. 8, the verb is taken as IV/1 stem with ingressive meaning. Elephants occur in bilingual proverbs of the Old Babylonian period that report their ability to crush poplars underfoot like leeks and to defecate on a grand scale (Alster 1997: 289 obv. 2; 121: 5.1). The present line suggests that the Babylonians held the elephant’s sex organ in much the same awe as the English language does the equid’s. The divine gugallum is Adad, whose most common epithet in this function is kù-gál (gú-gal) an-ki-a // gugal Íamê u er‰eti “canal-inspector of heaven and underworld” (Schwemer 2001: 701, 708). The erased sign is ka. This seems to be a saying that questions the wisdom of overwhelming force. The subject is presumably Enlil, whose rashness in sending the flood that wiped out humankind was pointed out in turn by B¤let-il‹ and Ea (SB GilgameÍ XI 168–71, 183–95). In the Light of the Window 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 75 For an eternity of years, an eternity: four myriad(?). And a fifth time I will go out to you (masc. sg.): a cult-singer. The profit of your city(?): a sow gave you a drink. May fire consume your . . . ! The king of the land is this! How sweet is cedar-incense! On top of the cedar-incense his . . . is protruding, on top of . . . his . . . is protruding. . . . . . . I have set down for him/her a bed outside(?), passing through the way out . . . . . . 16. With reservation, I take lu-bi-iÍ-Íi as luppiÍÍi (ep¤Íum II/1 voluntative); for uppuÍum used of attire, etc., see SB GilgameÍ I 106 uppuÍ p¤retu “he was adorned with tresses.” Alternately, lu-bi-iÍ Íi-a-a-ra-am “I will put the dawn(?) to shame.” 20. Plowing is a well-known metaphor for sexual intercourse in ancient Mesopotamian love poetry, as already noted sub Text No. 10: 39. The word err¤Í⁄Íina is dual and implies an orgiastic scenario. 26. After ‹n⁄ya the text seems to be corrupt; the situation is recovered by correction to pu‰âtim mali’⁄. 34–35. Or pe-‰a-at and pe-‰i-at “is white.” luqú-sú is possibly from luq›tum “merchandise,” a word hitherto attested only in Old Assyrian. 36. If at-ta-di-iÍ is correctly parsed, it is an exceptional example of an apocopated dative suffix, for attadi+Íum/Íim; the instance adduced by von Soden in Samsuiluna’s hymn to Nanay (VAS X 215 obv. 21, ed. von Soden 1938: 32–33: iˇ-Ói-iÍ “es kam an sie heran”) and reported in GAG §42h n. 11, has since been corrected to the adverb ‰ú-Ói-iÍ (Wasserman 1992). The last word seems to be a combination of proclitic preposition and adverb, from ina k‹da; the same construction occurs in the common ina p⁄na “formerly.” A Literary Prayer to IÍtar as Venus No. 13 2698/3 This is a small tablet whose lower part is broken away. A peculiarity of the text is that it is inscribed so that most of the nine lines extant on the obverse run over the right edge and onto the reverse of the tablet, leaving no room there for any more text. The concluding two lines of the composition are found on the tablet’s top edge. The curvature of the tablet suggests that it was created in landscape or square format, so probably only a few lines are lost at the bottom of the obverse. text is the use of an esoteric spelling in the first line, where the common noun sinniÍtum “woman,” referring to the goddess, is written in a way that breaks it into Sîn “the moon-god” and n¤Ítum “lioness.” Sîn was IÍtar’s father and the lion was her animal. The spelling effectively characterizes the goddess as the “Moon lioness.” It is an early example of speculative etymologizing as a tool for revealing the characteristics immanent in a divine personality, a technique that was much used in later Babylonian scholarship. Aside from the first word, the spelling is largely unremarkable. Mimation is always present. Defective spelling of double consonants occurs with the adjective ellum (ll. 3, 7 and 9), in the two examples of a proclitic preposition: iÍ-Í⁄t (2), ip-par‰‹ (6), and otherwise in wa-li-ti-ki (7) and Óa-ma-ta (2'), if for Óammat. Two instances occur of plene writing of final vowels of verbs from finally weak roots: i-ta-wu-ú (1) and [ip-pa-a]r-ku-ú (2), if correctly parsed as singular governed by sinniÍtum. The syllable /ip/ is otherwise written with the sign íp: íp-ta-aÍ-ru-ú (3), a throwback to the third millennium; but the syllable /ib/ is written ib: li-ib-bi-Íu-nu (3), li-ib-bi-im (7). If correctly read, there is one instance of crasis: mu-di-Íi-eq-li-im (8) for mudîÍeqlim; but reservations attend this (and much else) in the present edition. Context The text is a short Old Babylonian prayer to a goddess who is observed in the night sky. No doubt this is IÍtar in her manifestation as the planet Venus, and the attributes invoked in the prayer fully suit this great goddess. As understood here, the supplicant prays that she appear in the night (ll. 1–3), lauds her as the most exalted of the divine race, controlling the cosmic ordinances (4–7), and calls on harvestworkers to sing her praise (8–9). After a short break, the prayer finishes with another acknowledgment of the goddess’s pre-eminence and power (1'–2'). Aspects of Language and Writing The language of the prayer is literary Old Babylonian prose. An unusual feature of the 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 Pl. 37 TRANSLITERATION [ s]în(suen)-ni-iÍ-tu-um Íi-i it-ti m[u-ti-Ía? la] da-am-qí-iÍ a-a ‚iŸ-[t]a-wu-ú i-Ía-a-at mu-Íi-ti-im a-a [íp-pa-a]r?-ku-ú mi-im-ma e-la-am Ía li-‚ib-bi-ÍuŸ-nu a-a íp-ta-aÍ-ru-ú ti-iz-qá-ar-tum ma-ra-at dsîn(suen) ra-bi-tum be-el-tum Ía e-ni-im Íu-tu-ra-at ma-an-nu-um it-ti-ki i-ta-ma-[a]r i-pa-ar-‰í ki-nu-tim b¤ltum(nin) ra-bi-at be-li ‚kiŸ be-le-ti ‚iÍŸ-tu li-ib-bi-im e-‚li-imŸ [x x x ]x e-li um-mi-im wa-li-ti-ki Íu-tu-ra-at d 76 A Literary Prayer to IÍtar as Venus 8 9 77 mu-di-{ud}-Íi!-eq-li-im x[ . . . ] [x x x x] x x [ . . . . . . ] ‚eŸ-lu-tim li-za-a[m-me-ru] gap top edge 1' el-tum ki-it-tum Ía pa-ar-‰í! 2' Íu-tu-ra-at ra-bi-iÍ Óa-ma-ta! / ‰í-ru-[tim] TRANSLATION 1 A woman is she! May she not talk [un]favorably with [her] husband(?)! 2 May she not fail (to appear) in the course of the night! 3 May they not disclose to each other whatever is pure in their hearts! 4 O exalted lady, senior daughter of the moon, 5 who possesses an en-priest, you are surpassing, who could be seen with you? 6 By means of the true ordinances a mistress, great among lords, how you are mistress! 7 With a pure heart [you . . . ,] you surpass the mother who bore you! 8 Those that thresh(?) the field [ . . . ] 9 [ . . . . . . ] may [they] sing [your] sacred [ . . . ] short gap 1' True goddess of the ordinances, 2' you are greatly surpassing, mistress of supremacy. NOTES 1. It is not uncommon for goddesses to attract the epithet sinniÍtum “woman, female”; so Gula’s self-invocation in Bullussa-rabi’s hymn (Lambert 1967: 116 l. 3: sin-niÍ-Íá-ku “I am a woman”), and Ningal in a Seleucid-period copy of a ritual performed at Uruk during a lunar eclipse (BRM IV 6: 3': d nin-gal sin-niÍ-tum, ed. Linssen 2004: 306). IÍtar is so described in the great astrological series En›ma Anu Ellil, which notes that Venus observed in the east (as the morning star) was considered female (lit. sin-ni-Íat “a woman”) and a good omen, but seen in the west (as the evening star) was male and illboding (EAE LXI = CTN IV 15 ii 16' and dupls.). Another tradition upheld the reverse (see Reiner 1995: 6, Koch-Westenholz 1995: 125). In the present text sin- niÍtum is probably an early reference to one or other of these traditions. The restoration of mutum is suggested by the motif, much used in prayers to goddesses, of the wife who intercedes with her husband on behalf of the supplicant. The motif is given a twist here, for IÍtar had no husband in the society of gods: her mutum was the mortal ruler who filled the office of en (l. 5) at one of her cult-centers. 7. Because of the 2 fem. sg. suffix on w⁄litt‹ki, Í›tur⁄t must here be the abbreviated form of the 2 fem. sg. stative, -⁄t(i). 2'. Here Íu-tu-ra-at may be second or third person. The spelling Óa-ma-ta is understood to signify construct state Óammat; in the first millennium Óammatu was a common epithet of IÍtar. The Scholars of Uruk No. 14 2624 Pls. 38–43 epithet is most easily explained as an allusion to the tradition that Uruk was the home town of Ur-Namma and his family. In evoking the memory of the kings of this dynasty, the author of the text connected his work to the period when fiulgi established the é.dub.ba.a, the academies that became influential centers of Sumerian learning. The intellectual bond that Old Babylonian scholars felt for fiulgi’s time as a “golden age” of Sumerian scholarship is visible everywhere in the eighteenth-century scribal curriculum, not least in the several compositions whose setting is the school, which are now called Edubba-literature. Contrasted with the city’s noble rank is the behavior of the addressee, whom the speaker accuses of pilfering from the “household of my lord” and squandering “my lady’s property,” a crime that leaves the speaker feeling personally humiliated (2–5). The metaphor he uses to express his humiliation, “slapped with my own palm,” is fully appropriate because the wrongdoer will turn out to be the speaker’s own son. The son’s wrongdoing is never again referred to in terms of the theft of property. Hereafter the miscreant is characterized as a poor scholar: dim-witted, slow to learn, and not as clever as the speaker. Probably the accusation of pilfering and squandering is a metaphor, and the son’s guilt lies in his failure to do justice to his education. “My lord” and “my lady” would then be the patron deities of scribes, Ea and Nissaba, who are prominent later in the text. Their property is scribal learning, and the son’s crime would be to have misused that learning. The speaker continues by calling the son a “piglet,” not a term of affection, and asserting that he can have no answer to the accusation (6–7). Nevertheless, the speaker enjoins him to abandon abusive language, to put the quarrel This single-column tablet is a fine specimen of the scribal art. One hundred and twenty-seven lines of text in Old Babylonian cuneiform are squeezed onto a little tablet no more than twenty centimeters long. The script is tiny. Some of the signs that run over onto the right edge are no more than 1.5 mm tall. The text inscribed on the tablet is equally remarkable. It is a bilingual composition in Sumerian and Akkadian, but like no other bilingual text hitherto published. The text is set out in a conventional interlinear format, with Akkadian written beneath the Sumerian in lines slightly indented from the left-hand margin. However, the Sumerian is not the language as we know it. It is a heavily artificial construction, bearing little relation to the conventional Sumerian of any period. Study of it quickly shows that the composition of this Sumerian is an exercise in arcane learning, using rare and obscure words culled from academic lists, and a frequently morphemic presentation of Sumerian words that is alien to the grammar of that language. While not entirely untainted by error, the Akkadian lines employ good Babylonian, and it is evident that the Akkadian was composed first, and used as the basis for translation into Sumerian. Accordingly, this composition takes its place in this volume as a Babylonian literary text. Content The composition is a monologue in which a learned scribe at first harangues and then offers reconciliation to another scribe with whom he has had a quarrel. It is not immediately evident but later becomes clear that the monologue is an address by a father to his errant son. The diatribe begins with an evocation of the city of Uruk as “the city of kings” (1). This 78 The Scholars of Uruk behind them and look forward to a future in which their former good relationship is restored, even though anger has not yet subsided (8–14). The gods Sîn and Enlil are enjoined to establish and maintain this new relationship (15–16). They are chosen because, as the text reveals later, they are a divine paradigm of father and son who quarrel and make up. Next the speaker compares his addressee’s slowness in learning to master writing and scribal lore with his own adeptness (17–20). The image of the piglet is used again here, this time as an animal that “sucks its own teats,” a figure that conveys self-centeredness or selfabsorption, and the son is enjoined to mend his ways (21–22). Then comes an invocation to Nissaba, the patron goddess of writing, and an injunction to honor her name (23–26). There follows a parable. Ur and Nippur were quarrelling, and the quarrel was about knowledge (27–28). No doubt this knowledge was scribal lore, and the dispute centered around which scribes were more learned, those of Ur or those of Nippur. We recall that precisely these two cities were chosen by fiulgi of Ur as locations for his scribal academies, according to one of the hymns that honored this king (fiulgi B 308–15, see George 2005: 132–33). The purpose of these academies was to perpetuate Sumerian learning, particularly compositions in praise of fiulgi. They do not seem to have survived as institutions into the Old Babylonian period, but it is fully imaginable that the scribal traditions of the two cities continued to recognize them as rival centers of excellence. Rivalry between centers of learning was a feature of ancient Mesopotamian intellectual life. The Sumerian curriculum of Old Babylonian Nippur extolled the academy of Nippur above all others, as we learn from the fictive letter of Nabi-Enlil (Civil 2000: 106–7). The later tale of Ninurta-p⁄qid⁄t’s Dog-Bite reveals how students of Nippur enjoyed exposing the linguistic ineptitude of a learned doctor from nearby Isin (George 1993b). The quarrel between Ur and Nippur had erupted into vitriol, which the wind communicated to the gods of the two cities, Sîn in Ur and his father, Enlil, in Nippur (28–30). Sîn realizes 79 that what has been said will infuriate his parents and goes to see them like a dutiful son, intending to calm their minds (31–34); this point is given heavy emphasis, for filial deference is dear to the writer’s heart. At this juncture damage to the text makes it difficult to follow. The interpretation adopted here is that somehow Sîn inadvertently angers his father, they quarrel in a way that mirrors the dispute between Ur and Nippur (35), and then a third party intervenes. The intervention takes the form of a line of narrative and four of direct speech by the third party, a passage that is heavily damaged and still more difficult to interpret (36–40). The speaker is masculine or feminine, while his (or her) interlocutor is masculine, addressed in the second person but also referred to as “his father” (39). The speaker points out that the latter chose the “beloved son” for some purpose, and gave him two parts “of everything” as his lot. The gift of two parts is an allusion to a standard practice in Old Babylonian inheritance, according to which the nominated heir (aplum) received a double share of the paternal estate and the remaining sons single shares (Klima 1940: 29–30, Kraus 1969: 12). It is thus clear that (a) the “beloved son” is Sîn of Ur and (b) the interlocutor, “his father,” is Enlil of Nippur. We learn later that a goddess, probably Nissaba, was instrumental in bringing about a reconciliation between them (61–62). Consequently I propose that the speaker of these lines is that goddess. It is appropriate that a goddess should intervene in a family argument because intercession was a female role. Nissaba is a suitable figure because she was a senior member of Enlil’s household in the Ekur, most commonly identified as his mother-in-law and Sîn’s maternal grandmother (Michalowski 2001). But her special authority in scribal matters is also an issue here. We later learn that Enlil taught Sîn scribal lore (60), and thus that the quarrel between them is a doublet of the quarrel between the text’s voice and his son. The text exalts the role of Nissaba, the divine patron of the scribal arts, in settling scholars’ arguments. More than this, her expertise is necessary for any arbitration between hostile parties, for it 80 Babylonian Literary Texts engenders in the literate the skills of wise counsel and informed debate. At l. 41 the text introduces the topic of forgiveness, and the voice of the lines compares his or her own compassion for the person addressed to the compassion he or she has previously experienced from Ea (41–43). This is unlikely still to be Nissaba talking, for the text seems to have reverted to present time, and the father addressing his errant son, with whom he seeks reconciliation on a par with the kindness shown to him by the god who has overall charge of human intellectual endeavor. On this assumption we can observe that the father adduced the parable of Sîn and Enlil as an example of how Nissaba resolved a quarrel between Nippur and Ur, by recalling the different roles allocated to them: Enlil’s seniority and prior entitlement to power, and Sîn’s expectations as heir apparent. This story provides a model for the resolution of the father’s quarrel with his son: the goddess of scribal lore will bring reconciliation, but the son must first recognize his father’s prior claim to power and superior wisdom. Ea is soon cited in a typical role, as civilizer of mankind. The father tells his son a second story: how Ea sent “wisdom” to their city, Uruk, through the agency of a “learned sage” who taught the scholars of Uruk writing and Sumerian, skills refined by the goddess Nissaba (44–49). The story implies that an unbroken lineage and tradition connected the scholars of Old Babylonian Uruk to man’s earliest intellectual experience. Thus the father tells his son that he is heir to an ancient and venerable tradition. Here one is reminded of Benno Landsberger’s remark about the Edubba, that “no other institution contributed as much to the preservation of the past as the tablet-house: it did so by transmitting a spiritual inheritance from one generation to another” (Landsberger 1960: 95). But the father evidently does not think his son yet worthy of this inheritance, for now he contrasts his son’s fine reputation as a scholar with his lack of true understanding (50–51). This marks a return to the topic of ll. 17–20, with the added knowledge that the son is no novice, but an established and senior figure. Next the father revisits the subject of intellectual inheritance, laying particular stress on the father’s role in passing on to his son his city’s fine reputation for scholarship and the son’s responsibility in turn not to squander that reputation (52–54). The next lines are badly damaged, but enough is preserved to show that the father returns to the relationship between Sîn and Enlil, which he uses to demonstrate that sons are made by their fathers’ own example and instruction (55–57). The text seems then to describe Sîn’s qualification as a scribe and his appointment by Ea to a post in Ur (58–60). Enlil and Sîn here symbolize every father who teaches his son, and every son who learns from his father. The message is clear: the father is his son’s superior, as Enlil is Sîn’s, and the son will gain most by patient obedience. There is also a metaphorical reading, important in the academy: the learning of Ur derived, by Ea’s will, from Nippur, and the scholars of Ur are thus subordinate to their counterparts in Nippur. Finally, the last two lines, as I understand them, record that the quarrel between Sîn and Enlil was brought to an end by a goddess, the “veiled bride” (61–62). As argued in the textual notes, this must be Nissaba. Why should Nissaba be veiled? Perhaps to convey by metaphor that scribal learning is a hidden art. Thus the mysterious fiiduri, according to fiurpu II 173 a goddess of wisdom, was veiled in SB GilgameÍ X 4: ku-tu-um-mi kut-tu-mat-ma “covered with a shawl.” The veiled goddess brings a final resolution to the composition: the argument that has set at odds these two scholars, father and son, can be brought to an end by the learning and skills that they share. The text closes, however, with a standard Sumerian doxology to Enki, the Sumerian Ea, patron of all knowledge (63). And in this conventional line, the Sumerian is undoubtedly original, the Akkadian secondary. The Sumerian Translation The Sumerian version of the composition has been characterized above as artificial and arcane. The opening sentence can be held up as an example of how it deviates from our expectations. The Akkadian runs as follows: The Scholars of Uruk k‹ma ⁄li kiÍÍatim Uruk ⁄l‹ma ⁄li Íarr‹ u atta Ía in ⁄l‹ya u m⁄t‹ya tarbû b‹t b¤l‹ya tamlul u tamÍu’ mimmê b¤lt‹ya tusappiÓ Like a city of supreme power is my city Uruk, a city of kings! But you, who grew up in my city and my homeland, you stripped clean and plundered the house of my lord, you squandered the property of my lady. A conventional Sumerian equivalence of these lines should run something like this: uru ki.Íár.ra.gin7 unugki uru.gu10.um uru lugal.la.(kam) ù za.e dumu uru.gá.me.en kalam.ma bùlug.gá.me.en lugal.gá é.a.ni mu.e.kar.kar nin.gá níg.a.ni mu.e.bir.bir Like a city of supreme power is my city Uruk, a city of kings! But you, a son of my city, brought up in the homeland, you stole from the household of my lord, you squandered the property of my lady. Instead our text has: uru.Íú.gìn Íubax uru.gá.àm uru lugal bi za.a Íè uru.mu bi ki.gá.àm è.da.bí.ib é lugal.mu gú.gíd.éÍ al.ba.ma.ab níg nin.mu al.bir.al.bir.ri.ib Word order and syntax are fundamentally Akkadian and the Sumerian vocabulary arises from a set of one-to-one equivalences: k‹ma = gìn, ⁄li = uru, kiÍÍatim = Íú, Uruk = Íubax, Íarr‹ = lugal, u = bi, atta = za.a, Ía = àm?, ina = Íè, m⁄t‹ya = ki.gá, tarbû = è.da.bí.ib, b‹t = é, b¤l‹ya = lugal.mu, tamlul u tamÍu’ = gú.gíd.éÍ al.ba.ma.ab, mimmê = níg, b¤lt‹ya = nin.mu, tusappiÓ = al.bir.al.bir.ri.ib. Ten out of these seventeen equivalences are unconventional. Most can be substantiated either by homophony 81 (gìn : gin7 = k‹ma), by synonymy (è “to come forth” = rabûm “to grow up”), or by entries in bilingual lexical texts and other lists (Íú = kiÍÍatim, Íuba = Uruk, bi = u, àm = Ía, Íè = ina, ki = m⁄tum). The text shows a predilection for verbal forms that by any standards are misconstrued: è.da.bí.ib, al.ba.ma.ab, al.bir.al.bir.ri.ib. The individual equations are more fully explained in the textual notes. The text’s recourse to lexical lists explains its ungrammatical use of particles, and also reminds us of the existence of a considerable body of Sumerian lexemes that rarely occur in the Old Babylonian corpus of Sumerian literature but populate the pedagogic and scholastic texts. The bilingual lexical corpus is the source and sustenance of what we may call academic Sumerian, a term that is further elaborated in the commentary below. At the same time, the text reveals in places an author who can compose conventional Sumerian. In one instance where the Akkadian is corrupt and the Sumerian is conventional (though marred by lipography), good sense can only be had from the latter (l. 7 ú-ul ta-ta-áÍ-baa-ma for ul taqabbâma // inim <nu>.ub.bé.en “you cannot say a word”). Old Babylonian scribal schools were the last stronghold of Sumerian literature, the memorization and study of which formed the principle part of the curriculum. This author’s engagement with his Sumerian intellectual inheritance is also demonstrated by a passage that makes use of a standard sequence of time expressions, ud.ri.a ... ud.sud.rá, gi6.ri.a ... gi6.bad.rá, mu.ri.a ... mu.sud.rá (ll. 10– 12). This pattern is much used in Sumerian narrative poems copied out in Old Babylonian schools, most nearly in the opening lines of Bilgames and the Netherworld (BN) and of the Instructions of fiuruppak (Ifi), and in a passage of the Death of Bilgames (DB). The passages in question read as follows: 82 Babylonian Literary Texts ud.ri.a ud.sud.rá.ri.a gi6.ri.a gi6.bad.rá.ri.a mu.ri.a mu.sud.rá.ri.a BN 1–3 // Ifi 1–3 ud.ri.ta ud.[sud.rá.ri.ta] gi6.ri.ta gi6 [bad.rá.ri.ta] mu.ri.ta m[u.sud.rá.ri.ta] DB STVC 87B 3'–5' ed. Veldhuis 2001: 147 ud.ri.ta ud.sud.da.ri.ta gi6.ri.ta gi6 ‚sud.da.riŸ.ta mu.ri.ta mu.sud.da.ri.ta DB M 69–71 // 159–61 ud.ri.a LÚ™KAM?.uÍ Óé.em.rára.àm ud.sud4.rá silim Óa.ma.ab.gi4 gi6.ri.a bal.àm Óé.em.rá.àm gi6.bad.rá Íe.ús Óa.ma.ab.gi4 mu.ri.a sar.re.eÍ Óé.em.rá.àm mu.sud4.rá ki!.ág Óa.ma.ab.gi4 MS 2624 10–12, Sum. only For other instances of this pattern in the third and second millennia see Thomsen 1984: 81, Alster 2005: 103. Its transfer into the firstmillennium tradition of bilingual scholarship is attested by its presence in B‹t rimki house IIIA (Uruk III 67: 1–6, ed. von Weiher 1988: 51). An overview of the techniques employed in deriving the Sumerian text from the Akkadian is given in the commentary below. The correspondences of individual Sumerian and Akkadian words and particles are elaborated in the textual notes that accompany the edition. Aspects of Language and Writing The language of the Akkadian text is Old Babylonian prose heightened by parallelism (e.g. ll. 10–12, 15–16, 53–54). The author had a scholar’s predilection for rare words and unusual verb stems: Óum⁄tum “palm” (5), ezz¤rum “foulmouthed person” (11), er›rum “insult” (12), rit›mum “mutual affection” (12), sullum⁄tum “reconciliation” (13), aÍ⁄rum II/1 “to check” (18), en¤num I/1 “to pay homage” (25), Íi’⁄mum II/1 “to determine destiny” (44), wa‰bum “additional” (49), baÍûm II/1 “to bring into existence” (49). Some of these are new to us. A foreshortened 2nd masc. sing. stative may be an archaism or a provincialism: ‰abt⁄t (4), nabi’⁄t (51); the old literary form also occurs: maÓri’⁄ti (39). Also noteworthy is the bisyllabic construct state ⁄li (1) instead of ⁄l. The script is an excellent Old Babylonian cursive hand and, even if a later scribe could have emulated it, it is doubtful that he could have done so convincingly. Particularly distinctive are cursive forms of gi4 and ne. The writer also maintains the old distinction between dab (14) and lu. In contrast to the preceding text, the short subscript employs an archaizing, school script. The orthography of the tablet is also good Old Babylonian. The writer observed the orthographic differentiation of “normal” /s/ and the /s/ in words from such roots as 3slm and 3Ís’ (Goetze 1958: 140, Westenholz 2006: 254). Thus the syllable /sV/ is spelled with signs from the Z-range: tu-sà-pí-iÓ (3), ú-sú-uk-ki-ia (5), séer (8), ni-is-sà-a-ba (23, 49), i-sí-in (26), ta-Óa-sàas (50), except in sa-la-mi (10), su-lu-ma-tum (13), and Íi-si-it (59). This is a hallmark of classical Old Babylonian writing and a distinction that did not endure. By contrast, the spelling displays inconsistency in rendering the syllables /pi/, /ˇu/ and /‰i/, which perhaps mark the copy down as late Old Babylonian: /pi/: tu-sà-pí-iÓ (3), Íi-pí-ka (8) against pi-in-Íi-ka (4), pi-iÍ-tum (8), pi-ka (9), ú-‰a-pi-i (18), pi-Íu (46); /ˇu/: Íu-ˇù-bi (11), ti-ˇùbi-im (14), against aˇ-ˇú-ul (18), aÍ-ˇú-ru-ma na-ˇúú (20); /‰i/: ‰i-ru-um (25), te-‰i-it (28), [te]-‚‰iŸtam (61), ik-‰i-ru (61), against a‰-‰é-er (31), wa-‰íib-tam (49). There are only five or six examples of lack of mimation: sa-la-mi (10), Íu-ˇù-bi (11), ri-tu-mi (12), a-aÓ-mu-uˇ-ku (17), i-ni-in-Íu? (25), aÍ-Íu-Íu (42). Defective spelling of geminate consonants is also relatively infrequent: tu-sà-pí-iÓ (3), Óu-liiq-Íi (9), su-lu-ma-tum (13), ú-‰a-pi-i ú-Íi-ir (18), ku-ur-ku-za-nim (21), ta-bi (38), ú-wa-li-id (48), ú-ba-Íi-a-am (49). There is one example of false gemination: a ib-ba-aÍ-Íi (22) for ay ibbaÍi. One short unstressed vowel is spelled plene: me-e-Óuum (8) for meÓûm. There is one instance of a The Scholars of Uruk plene spelling of the final vowel of a verb from a finally weak root: ú-‰a-pi-i (18). The Akkadian text is not free from grammatical and orthographic error. There are three instances of false case: nom. for acc. ki-na-tum (26), ˇup-Íar-ru-tum (47); acc. for nom. a-ba-am (56). The first two of these can be explained as idiosyncratic uses of CVC-signs to convey case endings, a feature of Old Babylonian writing that has not been fully investigated (but see Richter 1999b: 402). Mimation occurs falsely on li-ir-ta-ad-de-ni-a-tim (13) for lirteddêni’⁄ti. In a later text it would be explained as a hypercorrection; here it is early evidence for the development of signs that express C+case ending into C+V signs, and can be compared to, e.g. YOS X 33 iv 13: i-ba-al-lu-TUM for iballuˇ› (OB omen apodosis). There is one example of a false plural: uÍ-bu (30) for ›Íib, and two of more seri- 83 ous textual corruption: tattaÍbâma (7) for taqabbâma, a-li-a-am (40) for anni’am. Lipography is relatively common: ta-ar-bu-<ú> (2), mi-im-mi<e> (3), <nu>.ub.bé.en (7), <ta>-pa-Ía-ar (7), il<li>-ik (31), i-na-<na>-a-ma (42), ar!(RI)-Íi-aak-kum (43), <at>-ta-a-ma (50). One instance of dittography occurs: lu-{i-id}-id-lu-ul (26) for ludlul; and one of false order: i-na Ía (50) for Ía ina. While the ductus displays great beauty and maturity, these manifold slips mark the scribe as more careless than many Old Babylonian copiers of literary and scholarly texts. The evidence of language, script, and spelling all argue that this is a composition of the Old Babylonian period, rather than a later piece in archaizing style. Its place in the history of ancient Mesopotamian bilingual intellectual culture is explored more fully below, in the commentary that follows the edition. 84 Babylonian Literary Texts TRANSLITERATION obv. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 uru.Íú.gìn Íubax(ZA.MÙfi.ba) uru.gá.àm uru lugal ki-ma a-li ki-iÍ-Ía-tim ú-ru-uk a-li-i-ma a-li Íar-ri bi za.a Íè uru.mu bi ki.gá.àm è.da.bí.ib ù at-ta Ía i-na a-li-ia ù ma-ti-ia ta-ar-bu-<ú> é lugal.mu gú.gíd.éÍ al.ba.ma.ab níg nin.mu al.bir.al.bir.ri.ib bi-it be-li-ia ta-am-lu-ul ù tam-Íu-uÓ mi-im-mi-<e> be-el-ti-ia tu-sà-pí-iÓ mu ní.zuÓ.da.àm ka.zu!.a búr ba.ra.dab5 aÍ-Íum ki-ma Íar-ra-qí-im i-na ba-ab pi-in-Íi-i-ka la ‰a-ab-ta-a-at Íu.a ní.me.kam te.gá bí.ib.ra.ra i-na Óu-ma-at ra-ma-ni-ia ú-sú-uk-ki-ia ta-da-ak zé.eÓ.tur.re.e un sag gal.la.àm i.ra.nú ku-ur-ku-za-an lu ta-ta-ka-al ri-bi-i‰ níg gá di.bi nu.ub.gi4.e inim <nu>.ub.bé.en na.ma.búr! a-na Ía a-qá-ab-bu-ú ú-ul ta-ap-pa-al ú-ul ta-ta-áÍ-ba-a-ma ú-ul <ta>-pa-Ía-ar in im u18.lu uÍ7(KA™LI) gìr.za.àm i.ib.si.ge.éÍ pi-iÍ-tum Ía-rum ù me-e-Óu-um ki-ma ru-uÓ-tim i-na Íi-pí-ka sé-er áÍ ab líl.e.ba im ka.zu.uÍ ba.e.Óa.lam er-re-tam ki-ma zi-qí-iq a-ap-tim i-na Ía-ar pi-ka Óu-li-iq-Íi ud.ri.a LÚ™KAM?.uÍ Óé.em.rára.àm ud.sud4.rá silim Óa.ma.ab.gi4 u4-um ‰a-al-tim ul-lu-tum li-it-ta-al-ku-ma u4-um sa-la-mi re-qú-tum li-ku-nu gi6.ri.a bal.àm Óé.em.rá.àm gi6.bad.rá Íe.ús Óa.ma.ab.gi4 mu-Íi-it ez-ze-ri ul-li-tum li-it-ta-la-ak-ma mu-Íi Íu-ˇù-bi pa-nu-tum limu.ri.a sar.re.eÍ Óé.em.rá.àm mu.sud4.rá ki!.ág Óa.ma.ab.gi4 Ía-na-at e-ru-ri ul-li-a-tum li-it-ta-al-ka Ía-na-at ri-tu-mi re-qé-tum liníg.ku7.ku7 Óé.me.ús níg.silim.e.eÍ Óé.me.zi dam-qá-tum li-ir-ta-ad-de-ni-a-tim su-lu-ma-tum li-it-ru-a-ni-a-ti ud ku7.dè.eÍ Óé.em.sud4.rá ud Íà.dab.bé.eÍ Óa.ba.‚kuŸ.nu u4-um ti-ˇù-bi-im re-qú-ú-ma u4-um ze-{ras.}-né-e-em lu qé-er-bu ne.en.ne.en {ras.} dsuen Óé.me.in an-ni-a-tim-ma dsîn(suen) li-Ía-ab-Íi ne.ri.a.aÍ e.lum Óé.ri.eÍ ul-li-a-tim den-líl li-ri-iq-Íi-na-ti e.zu e.zu e.zu e.zu gá.àm na.gá.aÓ me.en i-na e-Ói-iz ta-al-ma-du a-aÓ-mu-uˇ-ku ki-ma a-na ia-Íi-im nu-Óu-um at-ta ì.lá ì.lá ì.lá ì.lá za.àm pe.el Óé.me.en aˇ-ˇú-ul ú-‰a-pi-i ú-Íi-ir a-mur-ma a-na ka-Íi-im pe-Óu-um a-na-‚kuŸ e.gi4 e.gi4 e.gi4 e.gi4 gá.àm na.gá.aÓ me.en tu-ur Íi-ni mi-it-li-ik a-pu-ul ki-ma a-na ia-Íi-im nu-Óu-um at-ta ‚ìŸ.gen ì.gen ì.gen ì.gen za.àm pe.el i.me.en al-li-ik er-de i-na Ía aÍ-ˇú-ru-ma na-ˇú-ú a-na ka-Íi-im pe-Óu-um a-na-k[u] ‚ÍaÓŸ.zé.eÓ.gin7 DAG.KISIM5™KAM? ‚ÍàŸ.zu ga a.ab.gu7 ki-ma ku-ur-ku-za-nim tu-le-e li-ib-bi-ka te-ni-iq ì.ne.éÍ níg.gi4.ga.àm lú.ta AN.ta na.‚meŸ.éÍ iÍ-tu i-na-an-na lu ta-aÍ-ta-ni-ma Ía/ta-aÍ-Ía/ta-ku-uÍ-tum a ib-ba-aÍ-Íi ‚dŸníssaba dub.sar.munus {ras.} dníssaba kù.zu.munus ni-is-sà-a-ba-ma ˇup-Íar-ra-at dníssaba-ma em-‚qéŸ-et The Scholars of Uruk 85 1 TRANSLATION OF THE AKKADIAN Like a city of supreme power is my city Uruk, a city of kings! 2 But you, who grew up in my city and my homeland, 3 you stripped clean and plundered the house of my lord, you squandered the property of my lady. 4 Because you were not caught like a thief at the mouth of a breach(!) you (made in the wall), 5 you slap (lit. kill) my cheeks with the palm of my own hand! 6 You little pig! You have fed and fed, (now) lay yourself down! 7 You can have no reply to what I am saying, you have not been sated (sic! Sum.: can <not> say a word) and cannot refute (it). 8 Invective (is but) wind and storm: rub (it into the ground) with your foot like spittle! 9 Put an end to cursing with the breath of your mouth, like a puff of wind through a window! 10 May bygone days of squabbling depart and far-off days of friendship be established! 11 May bygone night(s) of foulmouths depart and former nights of kindness be established! 12 May bygone years of insults depart, may far-off years of mutual affection be established! 13 May good fortune always follow after us, may reconciliation guide us! 14 Days of permanent good feeling are (yet) distant, for days of anger are still near! 15 May Sîn bring just these things about, 16 may Enlil keep those things far away! 17 In the knowledge you learned I was faster than you. How you were a dunce compared with me! 18 I looked, I studied, I checked, I read and, compared with you, was I dim-witted? 19 Consider again, a second time, (and) respond! How you were a dunce compared with me! 20 I went (on), I progressed; in what I wrote and what was proper, compared with you, was I dim-witted? 21 Like a piglet you sucked at the teats of your own belly! 22 Would that you had changed henceforth, so there would be no more infighting(?)! 23 Nissaba it is who is a scribe, Nissaba it is who is wise, 86 Babylonian Literary Texts 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 edge 34 rev. 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 d níssaba.àm géÍtug nin dníssaba bàn.da nin d níssababa-ma be-le-et uz-nim dníssaba be-le-et ta-Íi-‚imŸ-tim mu.maÓ dníssaba mud5.me.gar ZÉ.sag.gin7 Óu!.‚mu.u5?Ÿ.i.i Íu-mu-um ‰i-ru-um Ía dníssaba ki-ma re-Ía-at ‚niŸ-qí-im i-‚niŸ-in-‚Íu?!Ÿ mí zi.dè.eÍ zé kaÍ.dé.a.gin7 ki gal!.le.eÍ Óé.em.gá.‚g០ta-ak-ni-a-ti-Íu ki-na-tum ki-ma i-sí-in qé-re-tim ‚ki-iŸ ra-bi-iÍ ‚lu-{i-id}Ÿ-id-lu-ul lú urim5ki nibruki.bi.Íè LÚ™KAM?.ga.àm ki-ma tap-<pe-e> ú-ru-um ù ni-ip-pu-ru i‰-‰a-‚aŸ-lu è níg.zu.á.bi.eÍ! Íu.mú bal ak.dè te-‰i-it iÓ-zi-Íu-nu i-na-za-ar ka-ra-ab i-pu-Íu ‚dŸen.líl é.kur.Íè dnanna é.kiÍ.nu.gál.la.Íè [a-n]a den-líl i-na é.kur ù dsîn(suen) i-na é.kiÍ.nu.gál [im z]i giÍ tuk.ba.àm sag.ne.ne ba.a.tuÍ.bi [Í]a-rum a-li-ku-um iÍ-me-e-ma ma-aÓ-ri-Íu-nu uÍ-bu [d]nanna dumu zi.dè ág tab ki zu?/ba?! an.DU.DU.àm [dsî]n(suen) ma-rum ku-un-nu-ú-um iÓ-mu-uˇ-ma a‰-‚‰é-er a-bi-imŸ il-<li>-ik [mu n]u mùrgu(KA™NE).éÍ bi.pap ama na.[an.x (x) x] [aÍ-Íu]m la li-ib-ba-ti a-bi-Íu ù la [ . . . um-mi-Íu] [mu nu] ÓúÍ(GÌR) pap ama na.[an.Íùr.ra.àm?] [aÍ-Íu]m la Ía-ma-ar a-bi-Íu ù l[a e-ze-ez? um-mi-Íu] [mu nu] ‚siŸ pap ama na.an.[diri.ga.àm?] [aÍ-Íum la a-Í]a-aÍ a-bi-Íu ù la na-aÓ-du-ur u[m-mi-Íu] [x x x x ]x a.a.ni mu.un.na.[si?] [x x ú-ze?]-en-ni-a-Íu a-ba-a-Íu ig-r[i] [x x x x] ‚gá.eŸ.eÍ Íu an.da.bal [x x x x Í/t]a-‚di/kiŸ-[i]l-ma ‚Ía-alŸ-ˇi-iÍ i-ta-w[u] [x x x x] x x x [na.m]a.ab.bé [x x x x] x x x-‚iÍ e?Ÿ [t]a-aq-bi [x x x x] x x [(x) x].ab.bi [x x x x] a-‚na? x x x x x-nuŸ-um ma-ra-am <na>-ra-ma-am ta-bi [x x x x sa]g? igi ÍúÍana ‚téÍ.taŸ i.‚ibŸ.ri [x x x x] x ma-aÓ-ri-a-ti a-bu-‚ÍuŸ Íi-it-te-en ka-‚laŸ-ma le-qé-a-am ta-aÍ-ru-uk [x x x x] ‚tab?.baŸ giÍ.Íub na.an i.ib.tar [x x i-na?] ta-aÍ-ri-it a-bi-Íu is-qá-‚amŸ a-‚li-aŸ-am ta-Íi-im ‚muŸ m[a.àm.á]g.gá.àm den.ki íb.ta ma.àm.ág aÍ-‚Íum taŸ-ra-am-ma-an-ni ‚éŸ-a i-te-e i-ra-am-ma-an-ni-ma ne.ta.àm den.ki.bi.Íè zi zi sag ma.ra.an.na.zi ù i-na-<na>-a-ma a-na é-a Ía-a-ti a-na pa-ni ki-na-ti-Íu ki-na-tim aÍ-Íu-Íu Íà.gè.gíd GÁ.bi.Íè ma.àm.tuk.bi a-na re-mi-i-Íu re-ma-am ar!(RI)-Íi-a-ak-[k]um mu.un.dím ma.àm géÍtug uru.gá.a.Íè mu.un.ri ú-Íi-im-ma a-an-ni-a-am-ma uz-nam a-na a-li-ia iÍ-ru-uk Íà ma.da.gá.a kù.zu gi16 mu.un.gál i-na li-ib-bi ‚maŸ-ti-ia né-me-qá-am da-ri-a-am ú-Ía-ab-Íi ud.bi.ta.àm abgal [m]u.da.an.e11 gaÍam gá.Ía ka.bi ba.e.K≤D iÍ-tu a-nu-mi-i-Íu-ma ap-kál-lum i-li-a-am-ma Óa-as-sum pi-Íu ip-te The Scholars of Uruk 87 24 Nissaba it is who is the mistress of wisdom, Nissaba, the mistress of intelligence. 25 The sublime name of Nissaba (is) like the best portion of a sacrifice, pay it(?) homage! 26 How greatly will I sing praise of its steadfast tenderness, as at the festival of banquets! 27 Like colleagues Ur and Nippur were quarrelling with each other, 28 their dispute about knowledge was growing blasphemous in regard to the greetings they invented. 29 On behalf of Enlil in Ekur and Sîn in EkiÍnugal, 30 a passing breeze heard and (! text: they) came to rest in their presence. 31 Sîn, the cherished son, made haste and went(!) before the father, 32 [so] as not (to incur) his father’s anger nor his mother’s [wrath,] 33 [so] his father would not rage nor his mother [fret,] 34 [so] his father would [not] be vexed nor his mother worried. 35 [ . . . he(?) made] him angry, opposed his father. 36 [ . . . ] . . . talked with authority: 37 “[ . . . ] . . . do not speak like a . . . , 38 [ . . . ] for . . . you called (your) son beloved(!). 39 [ . . . ] you being the most senior, you, his father, granted that he receive two parts of everything. 40 [ . . . at(?)] the inauguration(?) of his father, you assigned this(!) (as his) lot.” 41 Because you love me, (because) Ea also loves me, for my part(?), 42 and now (because) I offered steadfastness to him, Ea, in return for his steadfastness, 43 for the sake of his pity, I have taken pity on you. 44 He (Ea) determined this destiny and bestowed wisdom on my city, 45 he established within my land eternal sagacity. 46 Thereupon the sage came up and the learned one opened his mouth, 88 Babylonian Literary Texts 47 nam.dub.‚sarŸ.ra é.kur ri.en.Íè a.{x}.gíd ˇup-Íar-ru-‚tumŸ [a-n]a [é.ku]r ‚a-liŸ-ia ‚iÍ-luŸ-ul 48 en.‚né maÓ?Ÿ Íà ‚lú.mu.ta bíŸ.[in].‚tuŸ.ud Íu-me-‚raŸ-am ma-dam i-na li-ib-bi um-ma-na-ti-ia ú-wa-li-id 49 égi.zi dníssaba daÓ.daÓ.e mu.ra.an.tuk ru-ba-tum ni-is-sà-a-ba wa-‰í-ib-tam ú-ba-Íi-a-am 50 uru.gá.ta mu.sa6 gar.ra.‚aŸ.ba za.a.àm nu.mu.ra.ab.sì i-na Ía a-li-im Íu-ma-am ‚daŸ-am-qá-am Ía-ak-nu <at>-ta-a-ma ú-ul ta-Óa-sà-as 51 kur.gá sì.‚sì?Ÿ zíb.ba.dè.eÍ TUK.a.zu? za.a.àm nu.mu.ra.ab.sì Ía Ói-i[s-sà-at] ma-ti-‚iaŸ te-le-i-iÍ na-‚bi-a-atŸ at-ta-a-ma ú-ul ta52 bil l[ú.tur?.t]a? i.im.nim za.e ne.e.gá.Íè ma.a.ab.Óúl a-b[u-u]m ‚aŸ-na m[u]-ú[Ó-Ói] ma-ri-im Ía-‚qu?/qi4?Ÿ at-ta a-na an-ni-a-ti-ia Óu-du 53 uru ‚naŸ.gá.à[m x (x) x ]x ta lu? kur.bi na.zu!.um ‚ÍuŸ-mi a-l[i-ia] ‚ù ÍuŸ-mi ma-t[i]-‚iaŸ Íum-ka-a-ma 54 kù.zu uru.gá.à[m ma.d]a? ‚géÍtugŸ.en [n]a.zu.um! né-me-eq a-l[i-ia ù] ‚úŸ-z[u-u]n m[a-ti]-ia Íum-ka-a-ma 55 kur.gal x[ . . . . . . . . . ].zi d e[n-líl . . . . . . . . . ] ‚ib?Ÿ-ni 56 bil l[ú.tur? . . . . . . . . . ] x [x (x) b]a.an.da.gi4 a-ba-‚am maŸ-r[a-a-Íu ú-ra-a]b-bi-[i-ma] ‚aŸ-na Ía le-Óu it-tu-ur 57 lugal kur.gal e.l[um . . . ] x [x x x ba].an.da.gi4 d sîn(suen) den-líl i-[ . . . ú-ra]-‚abŸ-[bi-i]-ma a-na Ía le-Óu itd 58 Íu e[n.ki.ga.ta? . . . . . . gub.bí].ib i-na ˇ[e4-em é-a? . . . . . . i]z-zi-iz 59 abgal é Z[U.A]B [ . . . . . . ].gar ù i-na Íi-si-i[t] a[p-ka-al ap-sí-im? a-na ˇup-Íar-r]i ‚úŸ-ri it-ta-aÍ-ka-an 60 nam.dub.sar.ra nib[ruki . . . ]x ‚baŸ.a.ab.tuk ˇup-Íar-ru-tam Ía ‚b‹t(é)Ÿ n[ippuru(nibru)ki den-líl?] ‚lu ú-Ía-arŸ-Íi 61 è lugal x x x [x x].‚ke4?Ÿ [te]-‚‰iŸ-tam Ía dsîn(suen) ù de[n-líl] ‚ik-‰i-ru?Ÿ 62 ‚gi6Ÿ [munus?] é.gi4.a Íú ‚bí.inŸ.s[a6?] ‚dŸ[níssab]a?/[me.m]e? ka-al-la-tum ku-ut-‚tuŸ-um-t[um ú-ˇi?-i]b 63 a.a ‚denŸ.ki zà.mí.‚zuŸ d[ùg.g]a.àm a-‚bu-umŸ é-a [ta-ni-i]t-ta-ka [ˇa-b]a-at subscript: Íid.bi 1,3 The Scholars of Uruk 89 47 the scribal art he carried off as booty to the temple of my city, 48 in the hearts of my men he brought about the birth of much Sumerian. 49 The lady Nissaba brought into being (everything) additional. 50 Though you are one who in the city enjoys a fine reputation, you do not understand; 51 though regarding the lore of my land you are invoked as an expert, you do not understand. 52 Father is taller than son: you be glad about these things of mine! 53 The fame of my city and the fame of my homeland are your fame, 54 the learning of [my] city [and the] wisdom of my homeland are your fame. 55 Enlil [ . . . . . . . . . ] made(?). 56 The father [brought] up [his] son [and] he turned into one who was capable! 57 Sîn, Enlil the [elum brought him up] and he turned into one who was capable! 58 By the will [of Ea(?) . . . he] stood, 59 and by proclamation of the [sage of Apsû(?)] he was appointed [a scribe(?)] of Ur. 60 The learning of the house of Nippur [Enlil(?)] did permit (him) to acquire. 61 The dispute that Sîn and Enlil started(?) 62 Nissaba(?), the veiled bride, [made] good(?). 63 O father Ea, your praise is sweet! Subscript: Its (line)-count: 63 NOTES These notes are primarily appended in order to document the correspondences of individual Sumerian and Akkadian words and particles that are made in the text. Commonplace equations are noted, but without further reference; rare, imaginative, and obscure correspondences attract fuller comment, where possible citing Old Babylonian lexical evidence. Because the Akkadian is primary and the Sumerian derived from it, unproblematic equations are cited Akkadian first. 1. Akk. ⁄lum = Sum. uru (three times), kiÍÍatum = Íú, k‹ma yields gìn(KUR), a homophone of gin7(GIM) = k‹ma. The signgroup ZA.MÙfi.ba can be rendered Íúbaba or Íubax. The equation Íuba = Uruk does not occur in the extant Old Babylonian recensions of Diri but finds a later parallel in the entry [ZA].MÙfiki = ú-ru-uk in a firstmillennium geographical list (MSL XI 54: 21); Akk. 1.sg. suffix -‹ “my” = Sum. 1.sg. possessive suffix + postposition -gá “of my, 90 Babylonian Literary Texts in my,” enclitic -ma = enclitic -àm (as already in Proto-Diri Oxford 198), Íarrum = lugal. The usual construct state of ⁄lum is ⁄l, but in Old Babylonian ⁄li also occurs, e.g. YOS X 9 20 // 33–34: a-li la-wi-at nawu-ta i-mar “the town you are besieging will experience desolation”; the bisyllabic form presumably developed by analogy with the bisyllabic construct states of *pars-type nouns from finally weak roots, e.g. m⁄rum : m⁄ri, n‹Íum : n‹Íi, m›Íum : m›Íi. 2. Akk. u = Sum. bi, twice (e.g. NBGT I 203), atta = za.a (NBGT I 110); Íè (or éÍ) corresponds to ina (e.g. MBGT II 61, Ea I 181), though a case could also be made for derivation from atta (NBGT IX 35: éÍ = at-ta). ⁄lum = uru, 1.sg. suffix -ia = -mu, m⁄tum = ki (or gu14) is noted in late lists (Nabn‹tu IV 56, Idu II 313, glossed gu-uKI = m. in Ea IV 97), 1.sg. suffix -ia = -gá; -àm probably derives from Ía (Diri III 121a). The correspondence tarbû // è.da.bí.ib rests on rabûm “to grow up” // è (éd) “to come out, grow (of crops)” (cf. Proto-Aa 159: eè = rubbûm, factitive “to grow”), and the Akk. subordinative suffix -u correctly yields Sum. -a; the author chose to transpose the verbal base and suffix (è.da) and the prefix chain (bí.ib), properly an imperative construction, presumably because he understood the Sumerian imperative (correctly) as a kind of second-person form. He does so again in l. 3. 3. Akk. b‹tum = Sum. é, b¤l‹ya = lugal.mu. What follows is less straightforward: a similar Sumerian phrase is gú.gíd.éÍ ak.a, translated as maÍ⁄’um “to loot” in Nabn‹tu XVII 181. In that phrase the meaning of gú.gíd can be supplied by its equation elsewhere with Íullulum “to plunder, abduct” (Izi F 114): adverbial gú.gíd.éÍ thus suggested a propensity to steal. The Sumerian verb forms of this line both exhibit the imperative inversion seen in the previous line, but with the addition of prefixed al-, as if this prefix were compounded with the verbal base. The first, al.ba.ma.ab, will therefore break down into prefix al-, ver- bal base, and suffixed prefix chain; since the last is surely ma.ab, the verbal base is ba, which is understood in the sense of “to deduct, expropriate” (cf. Proto-Aa 146:5': [ba-aba] = na-Ía-a-rum “to reduce”). The phrase gú.gíd.éÍ ba, while not previously attested, is acceptable as genuine Sumerian. The author converted an Akkadian phrase consisting of a pair of near synonyms into a Sumerian phrase consisting of an adverb and a verb; thus two match two, and the technique of composition is not mechanical but based on equal quantity. The second clause of the line exhibits correspondences mimmûm = níg (abbreviated from níg.nam), b¤lt‹ya = nin.mu, and sap⁄Óum II/1 = al.bir.al.bir. The last is a reduplication (to match the Akkadian II/1 stem) not only of the verbal base, bir, but also of the prefix, al-. The compounding of al- and bir also occurs later in omen apodoses, where al.bir.(re) is used logographically for parts of sap⁄Óum. It is noteworthy that all three inverted verbs of ll. 2–3 end in /b/; Babylonian grammarians seem from their paradigms to have held this as the norm in Sumerian imperatives (see Black 1991: 95). mi-im-mi is taken as a defective spelling of mimmûm in the construct state. The form mimmi occurs in Amarna letters; but in good Old Babylonian the forms of the construct state hitherto attested are mimmê (CH §125: mi-im-me-e be-el b‹tim) and mimmu (CT 6 7 no. 272: 7: mi-mu b‹t a-bi-Íunu). 4. Akk. aÍÍum = Sum. mu, k‹ma = àm (ProtoAa 8:2), Íarr⁄qum = ní.zuÓ, b⁄bum “opening” = ka “mouth” or ka = homophone of ká “doorway,” 2.sg. suffix -ka = 2.sg. suffix -zu, ina = -a (Proto-Aa 2:1), l⁄ ‰abt⁄t = ba.ra.dab5. The verb can be broken down further into l⁄ = ba.ra, 2.sg. subj. -⁄ta = -ra2.sg. infix, ‰ab⁄tum = dab5. This leaves búr as the equivalent of pi-in-Íi-i-ka, which the parallel (cited below) demonstrates to be for pilÍ‹ka. The odd spelling arose either The Scholars of Uruk because the scribe chose the wrong sign (in for il or el) or, more probably, because it marks a development pilÍum > *piÍÍum > pinÍum (cf. later nalÍum > naÍÍu > namÍu “dew”; for OB /lÍ/ > /ÍÍ/ see Text No. 5: 58 and note). The expression k‹ma Íarr⁄qim ina b⁄b pilÍim occurs also in an incantation included in a Standard Babylonian compilation of treatments for ailments of the head (BAM 494 iii 72): gim Íar-ra-qí ina ká pil-Íi-Í[u]. Digging through mud-brick walls in order to burgle (b‹tam pal⁄Íum) is established as a typical crime by CH §21 and elsewhere. Thieving from the king by this means is a practice reported in the apodoses of fiumma ⁄lu IX 31' and 32' (ed. Freedman 1998: 150): makk›r(níg.ga) ekalli(é.gal) ina pilÍi(bùr)Íi u‰‰i(è) “palace property will disappear through a hole in the wall.” The author translated pilÍum with búr either by homophony with bùr(U) = pilÍum, or because he confused that equation with búr = piÍrum. 5. Akk. ina = Sum. -a (as l. 4), ram⁄num = ní, 1.sg. possessive suffix -ia = 1.pl. possessive -me, genitive = -kam < -(a)k + enclitic, usukkum = te, 1.sg. possessive suffix -ia = -gá, tadâk = bí.ib.ra.ra (cf. CT 12 29 iv 21: [ra-a]ra = da-a-ku). This leaves Óu-ma-at = Íu “hand.” The Akkadian is a rare word that otherwise appears only in the lexical list Bilingual Ugumu D 19: Íu.gíd.mu = Óu-mati, an entry sandwiched between ritt‹ “my hand” and upn⁄ya “my fists” and thus denoting an attitude or part of the human hand. In the present context of striking the cheek, “palm” is the most likely equivalence and fits the etymology of Íu.gíd “stretched hand.” 6. Akk. kurkuzannum = Sum. zé.eÓ.tur “little pig,” rab⁄‰um = nú, with the 2.sg. subject of ribi‰ denoted by the prefix chain i.ra, dative “to you.” The derivation of what lies in between defeats me; as transliterated the Akkadian can be parsed from ak⁄lum or tak⁄lum, but neither substantiates the Sumerian, which remains obscure. I have read l› t⁄takkal (< ak⁄lum I/3, l› of assertion), 91 because the image of a piglet resting after feeding to excess seems to me suitable. 7. Akk. Ía = Sum. níg, qabûm = di (MSL XIV 134 iii 22: di-idi = qá-bu-ú-um), 1.sg. subject = gá. There are two explanations for -bi. First it may convey the final -û of aqabbû through a syllogism Íunu = bi, Íunu = u, ... u = bi, i.e. (a) 3.pl. possessive suffix -Íunu = -bi “their,” (b) Íunu also means 3.m.pl. nominative “they,” which in verbal conjugation is expressed by final -›, so (c) the homophonous subordinative ending -u = -bi. Second, -bi may signify the ana that introduces the line’s first clause. The latter cannot be explained by lexical reference but could have arisen from ancient philological analysis of bilingual phrases such as ma.da.ma.da.bi.(da) // m⁄ta ana m⁄ta “land upon land,” where -bi ostensibly corresponds to ana (see already CAD A/2 101). In the next part of the line, ul = nu and ap⁄lum = gi4 need no further explanation. The word read ta-ta-áÍ-ba-a-ma bears no obvious realation to its Sumerian counterpart, which, as a 2.sg. marû form of the compound inim—e (marû) / dug4 (Óamˇu) “you can <not> say a word,” is actually more appropriate to the situation than any parsing of the Akkadian. With some reservation I transcribe tattaÍbâmma and derive it from Íebûm IV/1 “to be sated,” but there can be little doubt that what was intended was ta-qá-ab-ba-a-ma “you speak.” The two verbs nu.ub.gi4 and <nu>.ub.bé.en are authentic marû 2.sg. forms, in stark contrast to the Akkadianizing gá di.bi. Finally, ul = na (prohibitive) and paÍ⁄rum = búr are routine equations. 8. Akk. p‹Ítum = Sum. in, Í⁄rum = im (or tu10), me-e-Óu-um is for meÓûm = u18.lu, k‹ma = àm (as l. 4), ru’tum = uÍ7 (Sag B 348: uÍ KA™LI = ru-’-tum), ͤpum = gìr, 2.sg. possessive suffix -ka = -za. This leaves s¤r to account for i.ib.si.ge.éÍ, where si-(g) is phonetic for sig18(KIN) “to rub flat” and additional evidence for the value sig18, first proposed by Jerrold Cooper in his discus- 92 Babylonian Literary Texts sion of the verb gìr—KIN (Cooper 1972). The relevant lexical passages are late: gìr.sig18.a = 25 (se-e-ru) Ía ru-ú-ti “to rub flat “to rub out, of spittle” with the foot” gìr.sig18.dug4.ga = 26 Ía 2 gìr.sig18.ak.a = 27 Ía 3 gìr.sig18.di = 28 Ía 4 uÍ11.te = 29 Ía 5 [uÍ11].sig18.a = 30 Ía 6 [uÍ11.g]i4.gi4 = 31 Ía 7 Nabn‹tu VII 268–74 = se-e-rum “to rub flat” [gìr].sig18 [ . . . ].a = me-e-su “to squash” [gìr?].sig18.ús.sa = ka-ba-su “to tread on” ErimÓuÍ II 42–44, with Cooper 1972: 82 A Sumerian proverb quoted in a fragmentary state by Cooper shows that it was good manners to destroy the evidence of spitting by rubbing it into the earth with one’s foot. Now that the proverb is fully recovered, we learn that polite Babylonians did the same on expelling nasal mucus: uÍ7.dug4.ga gìr nu.sig18.a kiri4.te. en.na saÓar nu.gi4.a . . . níg.gig dutu.kam “to spit and not rub it out with the foot, to blow the nose and not ‘turn’ it in the dirt . . . : these are abominations to the sun god” (cf. Alster 1997: 80, 3:8, where kiri4—te(∞) is translated, to less effect, as “sneeze”). The Akk. pair Í⁄rum u meÓûm “wind and storm” are metaphors for empty words and falsehoods, frequently occurring together in Maqlû as the harmless outcome desired for the sorceror’s wicked spells, e.g. VIII 57 (ed. Meier 1937: 55): kiÍ-pu-Íá lu-u Í⁄ru(im) kiÍ-pu-Íá lu-u me-Óu[ú] “May her spells be wind, may her spells be storm!.” One of Esarhaddon’s Assyrian advisors, probably IÍtar-Íuma-¤reÍ, blustered similarly in a message to the king (SAA X 29 rev. 8–11): Ía it-ti Íarri(lugal) ida-bu-ba [su-ul-l]e-e u sur-ra-a-ti [i-Íid-su m]e-Óu-ú ù pa-na-as-su Íá-a-ru “He who utters falsehoods and lies to the king, [his base is] storm and his façade is wind!” Word order and vocabulary show that this passage is literary Babylonian, not the writer’s vernacular Assyrian, and thus either self-conscious rhetoric adapting classic imagery to the present need—the man was surely familiar with Maqlû—or a quotation of some lost work. On this kind of “code-switching” see Martin Worthington (2006: 80–81, this passage cited on p. 75). 9. Akk. erretum = Sum. áÍ, ziq‹qum = líl, aptum = ab, Í⁄rum = im (or tu10), pîka = ka.zu; the prepositions k‹ma and ina seem to have been translated respectively by ba (or e.ba), which is not supported by the extant lexical lists, and uÍ, which is (NBGT II 46 and III iv 10: uÍ = i-na, cf. Black 1991: 64). The imperative ÓulliqÍi, lit. “make it disappear,” is rendered by an indicative form of Óa.lam; this Sum. verb is more commonly the equivalent of maÍûm “to forget,” but note Urra I 364 S14: ba.an.Óa.lam // iÓ-ti-liq “he has disappeared.” 10. Akk. ›mum = Sum. ud (twice), ullûm = ri.a, sal⁄mum = silim, r¤qum = sud4.rá. Other equivalences call for fuller comment: (a) Akk. ‰altum usually corresponds to Sum. du14, written LÚ™NE or LÚ.NE, but here we seem to have KAM instead of NE, as also in l. 27, where the compound corresponds to the cognate verb ‰âlum; du14 signifies /dud/, so that the resumption of LÚ™ KAM? with /g/ in l. 27 points to some other word. Unfortunately no entry for LÚ™ KAM is preserved in the section of A VII/ 2 devoted to compounds of LÚ, and the entry ka-maLÚ.KAM = a-ta-ru “to exceed” in a Middle Assyrian version of Ea VII (MSL XIV 454: 2') offers no solution. (b) al⁄kum I/2 = rá(DU) is reminiscent of Sb II 16: ri-iri6 (DU) = a-la-ku—which in turn reports the plural Óamˇu base of Sumerian “to go,” in Old Babylonian times normally written re7(DU:DU)—but occurs more nearly in a The Scholars of Uruk late commentary on the names of Marduk, ra rá = a-la-ku (STC pl. 53: 8, ed. Bottéro 1971: 13). (c) lik›n› “let them become established” = Óa.ma.ab.gi4 “let it (the time of friendship) come back” replaces kânum with a verb that in the context is a near synonym, but note that gi4 = kânum occurs in Standard Babylonian bilingual compositions (Nebuchadnezzar and the Seed of Kingship l. 7, ed. Lambert 1974: 435; M‹s pî VB 30, ed. Walker and Dick 2001: 197). The choice of Sumerian verb was surely influenced also by near homophony with gi-(n) “(to be) fixed,” written gi.na and gin. Finally, a grammatical note: ›m is singular construct but here plural in meaning, so by synesis it is construed with plural adjectives (ullûtum, r¤q›tum) and governs plural verbs (littalk›, lik›n›). 11. As in l. 10, Akk. ullûm = Sum. ri.a, al⁄kum I/2 = rá, kânum = gi4; otherwise, muÍ‹tum and m›Íum = gi6 present no problem. The word spelled ez-ze-ri is taken as genitive plural of a hitherto unattested noun ezz¤rum, *parr⁄s stem from 3’zr, with the meaning “habitual curser, foulmouth.” The equation with Sum. bal attests to an abbreviation of the compound verb áÍ— bal “to curse,” usually Akk. naz⁄rum. Abbreviation of Sumerian compounds is a conspicuous feature of Babylonian lexicography: pertinent examples are Ea II 107: ba-labal = na-za-ru “to curse” and ErimÓuÍ I 197: áÍ = e-ze-ru “to curse.” In reference to time, the adjective p⁄nûm usually means “former,” the antonym of warkûm “later,” and is so taken here. It can also mean “first to come, next,” especially in Old Assyrian, but the parallel between this line’s m›Íi Íuˇ›bi p⁄nûtum and ›m sal⁄mi r¤q›tum and Íanat rit›mi r¤q¤tum in ll. 10 and 12 is not decisive on this point, for r¤qum can refer equally to past and future time. The equation of p⁄nûm and bad.rá “remote” is new, but unsurprising; bad.(rá) in the temporal sense of “far-off,” both past and future, is recorded in the lexical literature in a ver- 93 sion of Proto-Ea (MSL XIV 125: 708–9): bad = re-e-qum “distant,” ar-kum “later.” Evidently Íuˇ›bum “to please” corresponds to Sum. Íe.ús, but the latter is a compound verb Íe—ús meaning “to thresh” (lit. “tread barley”), attested in Urra II 338: lú.Íe.ús.sa “man who threshes” = da-i-Íu “thresher.” I can think only that the equivalence encountered in the present passage comes from a misreading of a lost lexical entry *Íe.ús = di-a-Íum “to thresh” as *Íe.ús = ˇi-a-bu “to be pleasing”: a calamitous error! Like ›m in l. 10, mu-Íi is singular construct; it is bisyllabic because it derives from a finally weak root (cf. m⁄ri, n‹Íi etc.). 12. As in l. 10, Akk. ullûm = Sum. ri.a, al⁄kum I/2 = rá, r¤qum = sud4.rá, kânum = gi4; otherwise, Íattum = mu (twice), râmum I/2 = ki.ág. This leaves the word spelled e-ru-ri, here parsed as the plural of er›rum, a hitherto unattested *pir›s noun cognate with ar⁄rum “to revile.” Its Sumerian counterpart is sar.re.eÍ, which can be explained as (a) the base sar, abbreviated from the compound áÍ—sar “to curse,” and (b) the suffix -eÍ to mark the word as plural, though of course the plural suffix -eÍ properly belongs on verbs, not nouns. For áÍ—sar = ar⁄rum see a repeated line of bilingual Lugale, used when Ninurta curses the stones: áÍ àm.mi.(ni).íb.sar.re // ir-ra-ar-Íu (ed. van Dijk 1983 ll. 418 // 437 // 481 // 526); for its suffix see Proto-Aa 168:2: eÍeÍ = ma-du-ú-tum “plural.” 13. Akk. damiqtum “good fortune” = Sum. níg.ku7.ku7 “sweetness” is an equivalence that does not grace the extant lexical texts, so is probably a case in which the author has chosen a near synonym rather than a conventional equivalent. In standard Old Babylonian the first verb should read lirtadde’⁄-ni’⁄ti, in agreement with pl. damq⁄tum. The spelling li-ir-ta-ad-de-ni-a-tim may exhibit the contraction /e’⁄/ > /ê/ but, as already explained in the introduction, the final mimation is unwanted. Its Sumerian counterpart Óé.me.ús was coined probably 94 Babylonian Literary Texts with the following equivalences in mind: redûm = ús, precative = Óé- (e.g. A VIII/ 1 6 Óe-eÓé = li-i), and acc. 1.pl. -ni’⁄ti “us” = dat. 1.pl. -me- “for us” (cf. Proto-Aa 71:6: meme = ni-i-nu “we,” Proto-Izi II Bil. A iv 4': me = ni-[nu], NBGT I 125: me = ni-nu AN.TA “we, prefix”). The word su-lu-ma-tum corresponds to níg.silim “salutation” (cf. silim = sal⁄mum and cognates); this compound is a good Sumerian literary word that occurs in Inanna and Enki I ii 14 and 26 (ed. Farber-Flügge 1973: 20 and 245) but not so far in any lexical list; suffixed -e.eÍ conveys plurality (cf. er›r‹ = sar.re.eÍ in l. 12), so the Akkadian word is plural, sullum⁄tum (II/1 fem. adj. deployed as abstract noun), and a variant of the cognate sal‹m⁄tum. Finally, tarûm “to lead, guide” produces zi-(g) “to rise, raise.” This is not substantiated by a lexical entry, but another nuance of tarûm is “to hold aloft,” of the tail, which was explained by late commentators thus: Izbu Comm. 541: ta-ru-ú = Íá-qu-ú “to be high”; CT 41 30: 4: ta-ru-ú = na-Íu-ú “to lift up.” 14. As before, Akk. ›mum = Sum. ud (twice), rêqum = sud4.rá; equally unproblematic are zenûm = Íà.dab “angry” (cf. ErimÓuÍ II 197: Íà.dab.ba = ze-nu-u), asseverative l› = Óa- (e.g. Ea IV 109: Óa-aÓa = lu-ú) and qer¤bum = ku.nu (cf. OBGT IX 152: ku.nu.a = qí-ri-ib). The word tiˇ›bum is the I/2 infinitive of ˇi’⁄bum, with expected metathesis (cf. dâkum : tid›kum). It can be added to the list of intransitive verbs of state that employ the I/2 stem compiled by Michael Streck, who considers that the stem may have an intensive function with such verbs (2003a: 53–58). The Sum. counterpart of tiˇ›bum is ku7-(d) “sweet” (cf. Proto-Diri Nippur 43: ku-uk-kuku7.ku7 = ˇa-bu-um // Oxford 43: ku7.ku7 = ˇa-a-buum). In this line the suffix -eÍ, previously used to denote plurality, occurs on words that correspond to Akk. singulars. The author delighted in variation. 15. Akk. annûm = Sum. ne.en, reduplicated no doubt to convey the plural anni’⁄tim. The Sum. word is usually spelled ne.e but instances of ne.en are not rare in Old Babylonian copies of literary compositions (Thomsen 1984: 80); note especially ne.en.nam // an-nu-ú-um in the bilingual PBS I/2 135 rev. 9" (ed. Cavigneaux 1996: 25). Akk. baÍûm III/1 ought to yield a form on the base gál; Óé.me.in presents problems, for there is no verbal base in. Since Sum. Óé.àm means “let it be,” Akk. libÍi, perhaps Óé.me.in was coined by the author of this composition as an idiosyncratic way of expressing the causative liÍabÍi (in = Í›, i.e. the agent of the causative stem in active verbs?). However, the conventional notion of Babylonian grammarians was that the Akkadian causative corresponded to the Sumerian locative infix -ni-, conjugation prefix bí- or pronominal infix -b- (discussed by Black 1991: 30–35). 16. Akk. ullûm, usually Sum. ri.a (as in ll. 10– 12), here gives ne.ri.a, an odd combination of two different demonstratives, ne “this” and ri “yonder.” The suffix -aÍ is perhaps added as a mark of the plural (cf. -eÍ above and note a commentary on A II/2, MSL XIV 274 rev. 9': uÍ : aÍ : eÍ : Íu-nu Óa-an[ˇu] “uÍ, aÍ and eÍ = ‘they’, past [tense]”). Enlil yields e.lum, a common epithet of his that in the late period was considered Emesal for alim “bison” (see Emesal Voc. II 23: e.lum = alim = kab-tum “important, venerable”). The epithet e.lum is particularly common in liturgical texts (see the incipits listed by Black 1987: 56), and became adopted as a name of Enlil (An I 38: [d]e.lum = den-líl; Emesal Voc. I 5: delum = dalim = didim; cf. Idu II 373 = CT 11 32 iv 10: a-li-imalim = den-líl). rêqum II/1 produces ri, a verb normally equated with rêqum’s synonym, nesûm (cf. also Nabn‹tu O 167: li.ri = re-e-qu); suffixed -eÍ for -Íin⁄ti “them” is correct Sumerian according to normal rules. The Scholars of Uruk 17. The quadruple Sum. e.zu is partly explained by Proto-Aa 147:1–6: zu-úzu = lama-a-du “to learn,” Íu-du-ú-um “to inform,” e-du-u “to know,” wu-u[d]-du-ú “to recognize, etc.,” [a-Óa]-zu “to comprehend,” [ka]-a “your”: the noun iÓzum or eÓzum “knowledge” is cognate with aÓ⁄zum, talmadu derives from lam⁄dum. The third and fourth e.zu probably both derive from aÓmuˇku (< Óam⁄ˇum A): zu is a rough homophone of sù in the compound izi—sù.sù “to ‘immerse’ in fire, scorch” (Nabn‹tu O 54: izi.susù.susù = Óum[mu-ˇu], < Óam⁄ˇum B “to glow hot”); and -ku(m) “to you” = -zu “your.” Thereafter Akk. k‹ma ana yâÍim = Sum. gá.àm (yâÍim “me” = gá “I, me,” k‹ma = àm, as ll. 4 and 8), nû’um “halfwit” = na.gá.aÓ “fool” (ErimÓuÍ VI 102: na.gá.aÓ = nu-’-ú), atta “you” = me.en “you are” (Diri Nippur 9:48: me.en = at-ta). Here and in l. 19 the translation assumes that k‹ma can introduce rhetorical questions, just as k‹ does. 18. Three of the four verbs that open the Akkadian line are verbs of sight: naˇ⁄lum, ‰uppûm (‰ubbûm), and am⁄rum. Each is translated by ì.lá “he/I lifted” because some lexical entries abbreviate the compound verb igi—lá “to lift the eye, glance” to its verbal component only. Pertinent are: Silbenvokabular A C: 16: lá.a = na-ˇalum (ed. Sollberger 1965: 25), Ea I 247: la-a lá = a-ma-ru, Nabn‹tu I 207: lá = a-ma-ar[u], Sa Voc. Q 24': la-allal = a-ma-r[u]. The third verb is taken as uÍÍir, hitherto unattested II/1 of aÍ⁄rum “to inspect, check,” a partial synonym of am⁄rum. The rest of the line is straightforward: ana kâÍim = za.àm; peÓûm “stopped up, stupid” = pe.el “dirty, lightweight, unimportant, lowly,” an association of words of different meaning but roughly synonymous in a scholastic context (cf. OB Lu 337–38: lú.p[e.e]l.lá = qálu-ú, pe-e-Óu-ú, later Uruk IV 190 i 12: [lú.pe.el.].lá = pe-Óu-u, and Lu I 141o: [dub.sar].pi.il.lá = pe-Óu-[u]); an⁄ku “I” = Óé.me.en “indeed I am.” The last sign of 95 the Akkadian line was overwritten by signs from the reverse. 19. Unproblematic are Akk. târum = Sum. gi4 “to return” and Íanûm = gi4 (cf. L⁄nu B = CT 19 11a iii 6: gi = Íá-nu-ú); mal⁄kum I/ 2 yields gi4 through abbreviation of Sum. ad—gi4.gi4 “to counsel” (cf. CT 12 29 iv 2: [gi-igi = m]a-la-ku Íá mil-ki), ap⁄lum likewise through the abbreviation of inim—gi4 “to reply” (e.g. Nabn‹tu IV 74: gi4 = a-p[a-lu]). The remainder of the line replicates the second half of l. 17, q.v. 20. Akk. al⁄kum = Sum. gen(DU), while redûm yields the same because it is a near synonym of al⁄kum. Note also its equation with compounds of the sign DU in ProtoDiri (Nippur 95: DU.DU = re-du-ú-um, Oxford 79: DU.DU= [re]-du-ú) and cf. Proto-Aa (MSL XIV 120: 9: re-eDU:DU = re-edu-um). For Íaˇ⁄rum = DU one resorts to the compound verb im—gub(DU) “to inscribe a tablet,” for which see a gloss in an Old Babylonian copy of the Sargon legend (Cooper and Heimpel 1983: 76 l. 55: im-ma gub-bu // tu-up-pa iÍ-ˇù-ur-Íu), IgituÓ I i 42: [im].gub = Íá-ˇa-ru, Short IgituÓ 12: gub.ba = Íá-ˇa-a-ru (ed. Landsberger and Gurney 1957–58: 81), and a Standard Babylonian bilingual liturgical text (IV R 11 rev. 47–48: dub sa6.ga.na ba.an.gub // ˇuppi(dub) da-mi-iq-ti-Íú Íu-ˇur). Finally, naˇûm “appropriate” = DU cannot be substantiated by the lexical lists, but presumably derives from its synonym, Í›lukum “suitable,” which is cognate with al⁄kum (DU) and also corresponds to Sum. túm(DU).ma. The second part of the line repeats the end of l. 18, except that the Sum. preformative Óé- is replaced with the conjugation prefix i-; no doubt this arose from a confusion of two similar signs. The last sign of the Akkadian line was overwritten by signs from the reverse. 21. Akk. k‹ma = Sum. gin7, kurkuzannum = ÍaÓ.zé.eÓ, a compound of the Sumerian words for “pig” and “piglet” (see Steinkeller 2007b and cf. l. 6, where k. = zé.eÓ.tur), libbum = Íà, 2.sg. poss. suffix -ka 96 Babylonian Literary Texts = -zu, en¤qum “suck (milk)” = ga gu7 “to consume milk.” The word corresponding to tulûm should be ubur(DAG.KISIM5™GA), but here another compound of DAG. KISIM5 seems to have been preferred. 22. Akk. iÍtu seems to be without formal equivalent, inanna = Sum. ì.ne.éÍ (ErimÓuÍ I 14: ì.neni-eÍeÍ = i-na-an-[na]), Íanûm I/2 = gi4 (cf. above, l. 19). The I/2 stem Íitnûm was hitherto represented by stative forms only (Streck 2003a: 35 no. 56). As a I/2 of an intransitive verb of state it compares with tiˇ›bum in l. 14. Von Soden’s idea that the I/2 stem could convey permanence (GAG §92f) is worth raising in this context, where the speaker wishes for a change in the addressee’s behavior that should clearly be more than temporary. The origin of the Sum. prefix níg- in níg.gi4.ga.àm is not explicable, unless the author built a syllogism from lexical entries Sum. lú “man” = Akk. Ía “the one who” and níg “thing” = Ía (lú = Ía, níg = Ía, ... lú = níg), and then considered that the homophonous Akk. particle l› could also correspond to Sum. níg. In the second half of the line Akk. a ibba-aÍ-Íi must signify the IV/1 vetitive ay ibbaÍi; its counterpart is prohibitive preformative na- + plural predicate meÍ written me.éÍ: “they must not be.” The noun that governs ay ibbaÍi defies definite parsing, beyond identifying it as fem. sing. nom. No help comes from the Sumerian line, where there is no obvious correspondence (lú “man,” an.ta “friend”). The reading of the signs that write the Akkadian noun is uncertain, given the similarity of the signs ta and Ía in this tablet. From the context the noun should refer to the poor relations with the addressee that the voice of this text wishes to consign to the past. A possible etymology is from 3ÍkÍ (= ÍgÍ?) with both prosthetic and infixed /t/, i.e. ta-aÍta-ku-uÍ-tum; for a comparable noun see tart⁄mum < 3r’m “mutual love,” as analyzed by Lambert 1987: 35 and n. 24. The root 3ÍgÍ yields words to do with slaugh- ter, which is approximately the right semantic field; forms of Íag⁄Íum with /k/ instead of /g/ occur in Old Babylonian, most prominently in Samsuiluna’s building inscription from KiÍ (YOS IX 35 98: Ía-ka-aÍ, 115: iÍ-ki-iÍ). 23. Akk. ˇupÍarrum = Sum. dub.sar, emqum = kù.zu; both Sumerian words are turned feminine by the addition of munus “woman,” corresponding in place and function to Akk. -at. The addition of munus has the same function in the god list An = Anum, where aÍÍassu “his wife” is rendered into academic Sumerian as gender-specific dam.bi.munus instead of gender-neutral dam.a.ni. In commenting on Kassite-period Sumerian, W. G. Lambert has cited this construction as an example of “new grammatical forms being created on the model of Akkadian” (1975: 222). The name of the patron deity of scribes, the goddess Nissaba, is here and in ll. 24–25 written eight times in the old-fashioned way, d níssaba(NAGA), once with a gloss, dníssaba (NAGA)ba, and once syllabically (on writings of this divine name see Michalowski 2001: 575–76). The new syllabic spelling (also in l. 49) is further evidence of the name’s pronunciation, confirming the double /ss/ long advocated by W. G. Lambert (1983a: 65–66, 2003), and marking the second syllable long: Niss⁄ba. 24. Unlike in the previous line, enclitic -ma here finds expression in the Sumerian as enclitic -àm. Otherwise, Akk. b¤ltum = nin (twice), uznum = géÍtug, and taÍ‹mtum = bàn.da (Proto-Diri Nippur 6:28 // Oxford 443: bàn.da = ta-Íi-im-tum). The possessive constructions are signified in the Sumerian not by adding the genitive postposition (-ak), but by a reversal of the normal word order. 25. Akk. Íumum = Sum. mu, ‰‹rum = maÓ, k‹ma = gin7 are straightforward. r¤Ítum yields mud5.me.gar because mud5.me.gar = r‹Í⁄tum “jubilation” (ErimÓuÍ IV 86: mud5.me.gar = ri-Ía-a-tu), and r‹Í⁄tum is a near homophone of r¤Í⁄tum “first fruits,” The Scholars of Uruk the plural of r¤Ítum. The latter part of the correspondence niqûm = ZÉ.sag suggests that the author had in mind the equation ne-sag, nisag = niqûm (Ea III 175 // A III/ 3 221: ni-sagnisag(MURUB4) = ni-qu-u; Sb II 87 ditto); perhaps ZÉ is a mistake for NE or MURUB4, both of which are similar signs. The final word of the Akkadian line has a Sum. counterpart ending in the reduplicated verbal base i.i “to send forth.” In the present context this base is probably an abbreviation of the compound ár—i.i “to praise,” which suggests that the difficult Akkadian word should share the semantic field of nâdum “to pay honor,” the usual counterpart of (ár)—i.i. Given the relatively clear i-ni-in I can only suggest a derivation from the root that gives utnennum “to pray, beseech” (hardly from en¤num B “to punish” in this context). If i-ni-in-Íu is the correct reading, this must be a spelling of enin-Íum, the imperative of the I/1 stem hitherto attested only as the infinitive en¤num in lexical lists, against other Sumerian words (Proto-Diri “202” [CAD E 163, passage not reconstructed in MSL XV]: ér “weep” = e-ne-nu-um, Nabn‹tu XXII 180: Íà.ne.al.ak.a, AN.fiÚ.gar = e-nenu). At the beginning of the line Íumum ‰‹rum is thus left in casus pendens, but resumed by the prepositions suffixed to inin in this line and to takni’⁄tim in the next. As interpreted here, the two lines make a couplet that observes the different functions of the poem’s voice and addressee in response to their divine patron’s name: the former vows to hold it in honor (l. 26), while the latter is enjoined to make it an object of devotion (l. 25). The name stands for its owner in that it has taken loving care of the authorial voice. But, as we shall see, the reading of the verb of l. 26 is also open to doubt. 26. Akk. takn‹’⁄tum = Sum. mí, abbreviated from mí—dug4 = kunnûm “to cherish, honor”; k‹n⁄tum = zi.dè.eÍ, where eÍ is probably added to zi-(d) to convey plural- 97 ity (as in ll. 13 and 14); nom. ki-na-tum is a slip for acc. k‹n⁄tim. In the next phrase k‹ma = gin7, qer‹tum = kaÍ.dé.a, leaving isinnum = zé, which is obscure, unless either phonetic for ezen or a plain error for intended ezen. At the end of the line, k‹ (if correctly read) = ki (for which I have no explanation beyond the obvious) and rabîÍ = gal.le.eÍ (e.g. the Íuilla-prayer IV R 9 obv. 15–16, ed. Sjöberg 1960: 166 l. 8: gal.le.eÍ // ra-biÍ). The two verbs of the respective versions are wish-forms; they do not match for person, but the equation of first person with third was no doubt derived from an entry such as that found in the Old Babylonian vocabulary PRAK II C 38: 5'–6': Óé = lu-ú, li-i. There remains some doubt about the reading of the Akkadian verb. The position adopted here is that the scribe began by writing lu”id “let me pay honor” but then converted what he had written into ludlul “let me sing praise”; the result is a broken writing of ludlul, to add to the sixteen examples of Cu-iC for CuC collected under type 1 in Brigitte Groneberg’s typology (1980b: 157). Neither verb, nâdum nor dal⁄lum, sits well with Sum. gá.gá “to set (marû),” and the present solution is put forward with some reserve. 27. Akk. k‹ma = Sum. àm (see above, ll. 4, 8, 17), tappûm “colleague” = lú “man,” ú-ruum = urim5(fiEfi.AB)ki, u = -bi.Íè (cf. -bi. da), ni-ip-pu-ru = nibruki. Trisyllabic spellings of Nippur as Nippuru are routine in Akkadian contexts (e.g. Urra XXI 1 and other refs. collected by Klein 2001: 533; also above, the composition published here as Text No. 7: 10, 14). The spelling of Ur, however, calls for comment. This toponym is usually vocalized Uri(m): the final /m/ is supplied by dozens of Sumerian instances of the name, resumed with -ma, while the vocalization is supported (a) by the syllabic Sumerian spellings ù.ri.ma (locative) in the cult-song VAS II 4 v 33 // 36 (Falkenstein 1963: 64; other instances collected by Sjöberg 1960: 92), and [ù- 98 Babylonian Literary Texts r]i-na in the Inanna liturgy VAS II 48: 11 (ed. Bergmann 1964: 1), (b) by the gloss in Diri IV 83: ú-riúri(fiEfi.UNUG)ki = fiU, and (c) by other first-millennium scholarly texts that render the toponym as ú-ri (geographical list MSL XI 54 i 6–9; UET VII 147 rev. i 4: ki.in.gi = ú-ri) and ú-ri[ki] (ziqqurrat list George 1993a: 49 ll. 15'–16'). Text No. 7 in this book confirms this vocalization in an Old Babylonian context (l. 20: [ú-ri]-im mu-Ía-ab dsîn). However, there is also evidence for the vocalization known to our author, i.e. Urum, on both sides of Sumero-Akkadian equations in Old Babylonian and later lexical texts: Proto-Diri Oxford 526: fiEfi.ABki = ú-r[uum] // Nippur 4:09: [fiEfi.ABk]i = u4-ru, later Urra XXI 16–18: fiEfi.UNUGú-rum.ki, ki.in.giki, urum(N≤NDA™Ú.RUM)ú-ru.ki = ú[rV], Section 2:5: fiEfi.UNUGú-ru.ki = ú-[rV]. The first-millennium spellings uruú-ruki and ú-ru (collected by Zadok 1985: 321) thus report a genuine pronunciation. As in l. 10, the author avoids the conventional equation du14(LÚ™NE, LÚ.NE) = ‰âlum, opting instead for a different compound of LÚ (see further the note on that line). 28. The usual Sum. equivalence of Akk. t¤‰‹tum is a.da.mìn, which often signifies literary disputation (see Alster 1990: 2), but here (and in l. 61) t¤‰‹tum = è “to go out” because it is cognate with wa‰ûm “to go out.” In a similarly academic context a Middle Assyrian scholar used Sum. a.da.mìn to mean not quarrel but “exit, end” (Lambert 1976: 90 l. 5 and textual note). An Old Babylonian attestation of t¤‰‹tum not booked by the dictionaries is the omen apodosis Íarrum(lugal) ti-‰i-tam ira-Íi “the king will pick a quarrel” (YOS X 60: 6). The equation iÓzu = níg.zu occurs also in Examenstext D, a late bilingual Edubba-text (Sjöberg 1972: 126–27 l. 14: níg.zu diri.ga // iÓ-zu Íu-tu-ru). The 3.pl. possessive suffix on iÓzum is rendered by á.bi.eÍ; both bi and eÍ are equated with Íunu (e.g. A II/4 183: e-eÍeÍ = Íu-nu “they,” V/1 138: bi-ibi = Íu-nu “their”), but it is not clear whence was derived Sum. á “arm, strength.” naz⁄rum = bal (as Ea II 107, quoted above, on l. 11), kar⁄bum = Íu.mú (as in several late bilinguals, see CAD K 193), ep¤Íum = ak (where final dè may also be read ne, as an indication of plural ‹puÍ›). The transposition of bal and Íu.mú was perhaps motivated by knowledge of the compound verb bala—ak “to transport.” 29. Akk. ana = Sum. -Íè. Ekur of Enlil and EkiÍnugal of the moon-god are the principal cult-centers of Nippur and Ur respectively (George 1993a gazetteer nos. 677 and 653). 30. Akk. Í⁄rum = Sum. [im (or tu10)]; the expression Í⁄rum al⁄kum means “to blow, of wind,” not quite synonymous with Sum. im zi “to start blowing, get up, of wind” (Akk. Í⁄rum tebûm). The exact phrase Í⁄rum ⁄likum occurs in an OB incantation, where it carries a message, as here (Sigrist 1987: 87 ll. 4–5: a-na Ía-ri-im a-li-ki-im qí-bi-a-ma “say to a passing breeze”). It is a more technical term in an astrologer’s letter to Esarhaddon (SAA X 26 rev. 8: Íá-a-ri a-li-ku “the prevailing wind”). Íemûm = giÍ—tuk, enclitic -ma = enclitic -àm, maÓrum = sag (Idu I 119: saag sag = maÓ-ru), 3.pl. suffix -Íunu = 3.pl. suffix -(a).ne.ne, waÍ⁄bum = tuÍ. Final -bi on the Sumerian verb was no doubt added to convey the plural person of the verb uÍb›, i.e. “they” (cf. A V/1 138: bi-ibi = Íunu “their”). In Kassite-period seal inscriptions final -bi on a verb is used otherwise to express the Akk. 3.m.sg dative -Íum (Lambert 1975: 222). While ba.a.tuÍ.bi and uÍb› thus corroborate each other, I cannot make sense of a plural verb in the context. As I understand the plot, the wind carries the sounds of the quarrel to the gods, with the eventual result that Sîn goes to visit Enlil. The logical consequence of the wind hearing the scholars’ curses (iÍm¤ma) is that it communicates them to the gods itself, without intermediary. “They sat” is clearly out of place, and this translation The Scholars of Uruk assumes uÍ-bu is for ›Íib “it sat.” An alternative solution would be to take it as an error for uÍ-bi < Íube’û, to be translated “it rushed” or similar. On this verb see Groneberg 1981: 124 sub vi 38, and CAD fi/3 171 s.v.; but note that Groneberg now parses uÍ-bi in AguÍaya vi 38 from waÍ⁄bum (1997: 91 sub 45). 31. Akk. m⁄rum = Sum. dumu, kunnûm = zi.dè ág (the sign that looks like NE™TAB is certainly a cursive ág, as too in ll. 12, 41): kunnûm is usually mí—dug4 but the author no doubt had in mind the common expression mí.zi.dè.eÍ—dug4 “to treat with steadfast kindness” (Akk. k‹niÍ kunnûm), as well as the less well-known mí— ág = kunnûm (Emesal Voc. III 169–71), from which he concocted *zi.dè—ág = kunnûm. Óam⁄ˇum A “to hurry” = tab because lexical texts pair Sum. tab with Óam⁄ˇum B “to glow hot” (e.g. Sb II 68). At the end of the line, a‰-‰¤r = ki (cf. Nabn‹tu XXI 205: [(x)].ki = a‰-‰er), while il-ik = DU.DU calls for the obvious emendation. Less easy is the remaining equivalence, abum = zu? (or ba!?). If the sign is ba, this may be derived either by abbreviation from ab.ba = abum or by homophony from Proto-Ea 81: pa-apap, Proto-Aa 81:5: [pa]-appap = a-bu-um. If it is zu, I have no suggestion. 32. Akk. aÍÍum = Sum. [mu], l⁄ = nu, libb⁄tum = mùrgu “hackle” (Ea III 121 // App. A iv 3': mur-gumùrgu(KA™NE) = lib-ba-a-tu), abum = pap; éÍ is added to mùrgu to convey plurality (just as its homophone eÍ is used in ll. 13, 14, 26), while bi “its” is prefixed to pap to signify the 3.sg. pronominal suffix -Íu “his.” In the phrase aÍÍum l⁄ libb⁄ti ab‹Íu, the retention of the case vowel on the genitive construct state is reminiscent of Old Akkadian grammar and can be explained as an archaic feature. 33. Akk. Íam⁄rum = Sum. GÌR; for the other equivalences see l. 32. The sign GÌR can be reconciled with Íam⁄rum “to become fierce” through either of two readings: (a) ÓúÍ (see Proto-Ea 567: Óu-uÍGÌR), cf. Proto- 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 99 Izi I 123: Óu-uÍÓuÍ glossed Ía-am-rum “fierce,” or (b) mirix (see Proto-Ea 565: miri GÌR), which is a homophone of mir “furious” (Akk. ezzum). Akk. aÍ⁄Íum = Sum. si (Izi Bogh. A 193: [si] = a-Ía-Íum), ad⁄rum IV/1 = [diri] (Proto-Diri Nippur 11 // Oxford 8 // Sippar 9: di-riSI.A = na-aÓ-du-ru). Akk. abum = Sum. a.a, gerûm = [si?] (Antagal G 140: si = ge-ru-ú). Akk. ÍalˇiÍ = Sum. gá.e.eÍ can be substantiated lexically (cf. AO 7092 ii 7: gá.gá = Íá-la-ˇu, ed. Thureau-Dangin 1919: 165– 66; Aa II/4 186: e-eÍeÍ = ki-ma “like,” i.e. comparative). However, awûm I/2 “to converse” = Íu—bal “to exchange” chooses the wrong compound verb: inim—bal is “to converse,” but note this compound abbreviated to its verbal component only in Izi Bogh. D ii' 4': bal.bal = at-m[u-u] “to converse,” Nabn‹tu IV 321: bal.bal.e = at-mu-ú. Akk. qabûm (Óamˇu) = Sum. e (marû). Akk. nabûm = Sum. bi (Aa VI/1 140: bi-ibi = na-bu-u), an equation that presumably arose through a misparsing of the sign bi in the many instances in which it concludes marû forms of e “to say” (i.e. -b+e, written bé, as in l. 37). If Akk. maÓrûm “first” = Sum. igi “front,” then Íitt⁄n “two-thirds” = ÍúÍana “onethird,” which is curious, and abum, which should fall between them, has no Sumerian counterpart. Perhaps igi.ÍúÍana is itself the rendering of Íitt⁄n “two-thirds.” Otherwise, kal⁄ma “everything” = téÍ.ta “on all sides,” a near synonym (normally téÍ = mitÓ⁄riÍ “everywhere” but cf. K 2356: 2–3: téÍ Íu.dím.ma // ba-nu-ú ka-la-ma, copy Hehn 1905: 388). Both leqûm and Íar⁄kum could have yielded i.ib.ri: if leqûm, cf. Nabn‹tu XIV 252: da.ri = [leqû Íá li-qu-ti] “to take in adoption”; if Íar⁄kum, the equation arose either by near homphony from the verbal component of the compound sag—rig7 “to bestow” (e.g. ProtoDiri Nippur 374 // Oxford 279 // Sippar 100 Babylonian Literary Texts 7:09: [ri-i]grig7 = Ía-ra-kum), or by abbreviation from i.ri (Nabn‹tu XVII 49: i.ri = Íara-ku). The word maÓri’⁄ti is taken as an old-fashioned 2.m.sg. stative (pars⁄ti); alternatively it might be a f.pl. adjective, written without mimation. 40. Akk. taÍr‹t ab‹Íu = Sum. [...]x.ba: the trace does not suggest a]b.ba from abum, so I assume the partly preserved Sumerian word derived instead from taÍr‹tum “beginning” and refer to Proto-Aa Geneva 465: tab = Íu-ru-ú “to begin” (ed. MSL IX 133). Further on, isqum = Sum. giÍ.Íub, Íi’⁄mum = tar, abbreviated from nam—tar “to determine destiny,” as Proto-Aa Geneva 604: [ta-artar = Íi-a]-mu (ed. MSL IX 136), restored after e.g. A III/5 122: ta-ár tar = Íá-a-mu. The Akkadian word written a-li-a-am evidently yields Sum. na.an. This is hardly the nisbe adjective derived from ⁄lum, which is known only in Assyrian. I take the Sumerian as a demonstrative, i.e. a variant of ne.en “this” (see Ea IV 105 ni-ena na-nu-u = Íu-ú). The Akkadian is either (a) a mistake for anni-a-am, (b) an unexpected virtuoso spelling a-ni8(LI)-a-am for anni’am, or (c) a surprising instance of allû, a variant of demonstrative ulli’um “that” known hitherto from peripheral dialects of the later second millennium (Nuzi and Ugarit). In a text not given to the unconventional spelling of Akkadian words, nor to outlandish dialect, solution (a) is preferable. 41. Akk. aÍÍum = Sum. mu, râmum = ág (twice, abbreviated from ki—ág as in l. 31), Ea = Enki. In this passage the conjugation prefix /ma/ was apparently chosen to mark the involvement of the first person singular, so that here ma.àm = “me,” in l. 42 ma.ra = “I,” and in l. 43 ma.àm = “I”; no doubt this is because /ma/ often conveys a 1.sg. dative pronominal reference. This leaves Akk. i-te-e and Sum. íb.ta to be explained. The sequence íb.ta looks like a verbal prefix chain conveying the idea “with it” (i-b+ta). It can hardly be taken as part of the prefix chain of ág, because the conjugation prefixes /i/ and /mu/ (/ma/ in ma.àm.ág) are mutually exclusive. Thus it corresponds to i-te-e, an equivalence that rests perhaps on ta = itti “with.” The Akkadian word i-te-e is itself difficult. Syntactically, it looks like a noun in apposition to the subject, but this does not satisfy in meaning: the god Ea could hardly be invoked by a scholar as itê “my neighbor.” With some reservation itê is taken instead as an adverbial accusative, literally “my side,” reinforcing the accusative 1.c.sg. suffix -anni “me.” 42. Akk. inanna = Sum. ne.ta (cf. the OB bilingual VAS XVII 35: 5–6: e.ne.Íè // ina-an-na), enclitic -ma = enclitic -àm, preposition ana = postposition -Íè, Ea = Enki, demonstrative Í› = suffix -bi, p⁄num “face” = sag (abbreviated from sag.ki “forehead,” as in Idu I 120: sa-agsag = panu), kittum = zi (twice) because zi-(d) = k‹num “true,” naÍûm = zi (e.g. Idu I 141: [zii zi] = na-Íu-ú), -Íu(m) “to him” = 3.c.sg. dative infix -(an)-na-. Given the place of sag after the second zi, in contravention of the expected word order, it may be that the author also had in mind as the equivalent of naÍûm the compound sag—zi “to raise the head, stand out, stand up,” though the nominal part of the compound would be an unnecessary embellishment. 43. Comparison with the sign Íà as written elsewhere on the tablet (ll. 45, 48) shows that what precedes gíd is not plain Íà but fiÀ+DIfi; this is understood as Íà.gè for Sum. Íag4+e (terminative). Because it lacks a pronominal suffix Íà.gè.gíd corresponds not to ana r¤m‹Íu but to accusative r¤mam, and calls to mind the calqued idiom Íà.Íè gíd // ana libbim Íad⁄dum “to be mindful.” Akk. ana r¤m‹Íu = Sum. GÁ.bi.Íè (where GÁ is an abbreviation for GÁ™SAL = arÓuÍ = r¤mum), arÍi = ma.àm.tuk, 2.m.sg. dative suffix -kum “to you” = 3.sg impersonal genitive suffix -bi “its.” In making the last correspondence the author probably had in mind the ancient grammarians’ equation bi = atta “you” (e.g. A V/1 158–59: The Scholars of Uruk bi-e bi = at-ta), which interprets the conjugation prefix /bi/ as a mark of a secondperson subject in imperative and indicative verbs (see Black 1991: 95). But note that Kassite-period seal inscriptions add -bi to a verb to express a dative pronoun (Lambert 1975: 222). 44. Akk. Íi’⁄mum II/1 “to determine destiny” = Sum. dím “to make,” an example of roughly synonymous equation. The II/1 stem of Íi’⁄mum otherwise occurs only in academic contexts: a bilingual inscription of Tukult‹-Ninurta I (Lambert 1976: 90 l. 9: ba.tar.re // ú-Íi-ma) and a bilingual incantation (CT 16 47: 207–8: nu.mu. un.tar.ra // la Íum-mu). The word following uÍ‹mma is taken as demonstrative anni’amma, but with some reservation because a plene spelling of the vocalic onset of annûm is unusual and Akk. annûm = Sum. ma.àm has no lexical justification. In this text ma.(àm) can signify the involvement of the first person singular, as in the verbal prefix chains of ll. 41–43. Here I can only suggest that the author comes up with anni’amma = ma.àm by using the near homophony of the demonstrative anni’am and the 1.sg. accusative suffix -anni; in that case, enclitic -ma = enclitic -àm, as often in this text. Otherwise the correspondences are straightforward: Akk. uznum = Sum. géÍtug, ana = -Íè, ⁄lum = uru, 1.sg. possessive suffix -ia = 1.sg. possessive suffix + locative -gá.a, Íar⁄kum = ri (as above, l. 39). 45. Akk. prep. ina = Sum. postp. -a, libbum = Íà, m⁄tum = ma.da, 1.sg. possessive suffix -ia = 1.sg. possessive suffix + genitive -gá, baÍûm III/1 = gál. Two abbreviated correspondences remain: n¤mequm = kù.zu, from nam.kù.zu “wisdom,” and d⁄rûm = gi16(GIL), from gi16.sa “eternal” (as in two parallel inscriptions of Samsuiluna, E4.3.7.8: 86: gi16.sa.aÍ ak.a // E4.3.7.7: 134: da-rí-um, ed. Frayne 1990: 388–91). 46. Akk. iÍtu an›m‹Íu = Sum. ud.bi.ta “since that time,” enclitic -ma = enclitic -àm, apkallum = abgal, elûm I/1 = e11, Óassum = gaÍam (Diri IV 76: ga-Íá-amNUN.ME.TAG = 101 Óa-as-su), pûm = ka; petûm I/1 = K≤D is based either on abbreviation of the compound gál—tag4(K≤D) = petûm (an abbreviation which is common in late bilinguals) or on the less well-known lexical entry gix(K≤D) = petûm (Sa Voc. Emar 751': K≤D = pè-tu-u, ed. Arnaud 1987 no. 537; Recip. Ea A ii 80: [ge-eK≤D] = pe-tu-ú). The derivation of gá.Ía (or gá.ta) is unclear; if it is a gloss on gaÍam, the author has overlooked a phonological detail, that the Sumerian word begins with /g/ not /∞/. 47. Akk. ˇupÍarr›tum = Sum. nam.dub.sar.ra, ana = -Íè, é.kur = ekurrum “sanctuary,” ⁄lum = ri (i.e. through rí, an old value of uru = iri, the Sum. sign for “town”), 1.sg. possessive suffix -ia = 1.sg. verbal suffix -en “me” (cf. NBGT I 57: en = ia-ti “me”), Íal⁄lum = gíd (cf. Izi F 114: gú.gíd = Íul-lulu). The context determines that the subject of iÍlul is the agent of ll. 46 and 48, the sage who brought learning to Uruk; ˇupÍarr›tum is thus its object, and displays the wrong case. 48. If correctly deciphered, Akk. Íumerum = Sum. en.né and m⁄dum “much” = maÓ “large.” The latter pair are two near synonyms whose equivalence is recognized in the lexical lists (e.g. Proto-Aa 451:2: maÓ = ma-du-u[m]); the former is without obvious explanation, unless a bizarrely written abbreviation of eme.gi7 “Sumerian.” Preposition ina = postposition -ta, libbum = Íà, umm⁄num “band of men” = lú “men,” 1.sg. poss. suffix -ia = 1.sg. poss.suffix -mu, wal⁄dum II/1 = tu.ud. 49. Akk. rub⁄tum “lady” = Sum. égi.zi, a class of priestess (Akk. igi‰‹tum), rests on the equation égi = r. (e.g. Sa Voc. T 2': e-giNIN = ru-‚baŸ-[tu]). wa‰bum = daÓ.daÓ.e compares with daÓ = wa‰⁄bum “to add on,” the cognate verb; the adjective wa‰bum, here in the feminine as an abstract noun, is not previously attested. Finally, there is ubaÍÍi’am = mu.ra.an.tuk: the Akkadian cannot be other than a factitive II/1 stem of baÍûm “to exist,” where normally the causative III/1 stem is used. The equation 102 50. 51. 52. 53. Babylonian Literary Texts of buÍÍûm “to make exist” and tuk “to (cause to) have” is based on the near synonymity of these verbs in some contexts; cf. also OB Lu B ii 27–28: lú Óul nu.tuk “one having no evil” = Ía i-na l[u-um-nim] la i-ba-aÍ-Íu-ú “one who is not in [evil]” (reading i-ba-aÍ-Íum corrected in CAD B 144). Akk. prep. ina = Sum. postp. -ta, ⁄lum “city” = uru.gá “my city,” Íumum = mu, damqum = sa6, Íak⁄num I/1 = gar, atta = za.a, enclitic -ma = enclitic -àm, ul = nu, Óas⁄sum = sì (Idu II ii 93: si-isì = Óa-sa-s[u], Antagal A 219: sì = Óa-[sa-su]), 2.m.sg. subject conveyed by infixed -ra-, properly 2.sg. dative. The translation presumes that ina and Ía are transposed; the emendation to att⁄ma follows l. 51. Akk. Óissatum = Sum. sì.sì? (cf. Idu II ii 93: si-i sì = Óa-sa-s[u]), m⁄t‹ya = kur.gá, tele’îÍ = zíb.ba.dè.eÍ (cf. AN.zíb = tel‹tum) in which -eÍ is comparative (cf. l. 26), nabi’⁄t = TUK.a.zu? (UET VI 379: 10: [x-x]TUK = nabu-ú-um, probably related to du12 “to sing” through nubbûm “to lament”), and att⁄ma ul taÓassas = za.a.àm nu.mu.ra.ab.sì, as in the previous line. While ll. 50 and 51 are parallel, note the variation of person, from 3.sg. to 2.sg., in the respective relative clauses. Akk. abum = Sum. bil(NE) (AO 7092 iii 12: NE = a-bu, ed. Thureau-Dangin 1919: 167–69; cf. Lu III iv 73–74a: bìl, a.a.a, pa4.bíl.gi = a-bi a-bi “grandfather”) also occurs in l. 56. Otherwise, prep. ana (muÓÓi) = postp. -ta (Proto-Aa no. 7 ii 26: ta-a ta = a-‚naŸ; MBGT II 54: ta = a-na), m⁄rum “son” = lú.tur “child” or similar, Íaqûm = nim, atta = za.e, prep. ana = postp. -Íè, anni’⁄t‹ya = ne.e.gá (cf. ne.en = annûm in l. 15), Óadûm = Óúl. Akk. Íumum = Sum. na, ⁄lum = uru, 1.sg. possess. suff. [-ia] = 1.sg. possess. suffix + enclitic -gá.àm, m⁄tum = kur, -ia “my” = -bi “its” (cf. NBGT II 257: bi.i = a-na-ku Íu-a-ti “I . . . him”; etc.), Íumk⁄ma = na.zu.um, in which na = Íumum again, 2.sg. pron. suff. -zu = 2.m.sg. pron. suff. -ka and enclitic -(a)m = enclitic -ma. Akk. Íumum yields Sum. na either through synonymy (Íumum “name, descendant” = na “man”) or through false etymology of níg.na.me = mimma ÍumÍu. As with other nouns from biliteral roots, the construct state of Íumum can be monosyllabic (Íum) or, as here, bisyllabic (Íumi); see GAG §64c. For another bisyllabic instance in Old Babylonian see the omen apodosis YOS X 46 iv 18: b⁄rûm(máÍ.Íu.gíd.gíd) Íumi da-mi-iq-tim i-le-eq-qé “the diviner will win a good reputation.” 54. Akk. n¤mequm = Sum. kù.zu (abbreviated from nam.kù.zu), ⁄lum = uru, -ia = -gá. (àm), and Íumk⁄ma = na.zu.um, as in l. 53. In the damaged part of the line the Akkadian first-person suffix -ia “my” corresponds instead to the pronominal suffix -en “me” (as already in l. 47). The noun phrase to which this suffix is attached is restored as roughly synonymous with n¤meq ⁄l‹ya, and the Sumerian is therefore assumed to display inverted word-order: uznum = géÍtug, m⁄tum = ma.da? 55. Akk. Ellil = Sum. kur.gal “great mountain,” a common epithet of Enlil that is already entered as one of his names in the Old Babylonian god list TCL XV 10 i 38– 40: den.líl, dnu.nam.nir, dkur.gal (see further Edzard 1983). At the end of the line it is difficult to avoid ibni. No lexical evidence supports the equation of banûm “to make, fashion” with Sum. zi “to rise; uproot,” but causative zi “to make rise up” belongs to the same semantic field as banûm when referring to the growing of crops, and is consequently interpreted as ÍubÍû “to bring into being, grow” in a late commentary on Marduk’s names: En›ma eliÍ VII 21: (dtu.tu.dzi.kù) mu-Íab-Íi ‰i-im-ri u ku-bu-ut-te-e mu-kin Óengalli(Óé.gál) “who brings about plump and heavy growth, who establishes abundance” // STC II 51 ii 20: zi = ba-Íu-ú (ed. Bottéro 1977: 7, Talon 2005: 71). The Scholars of Uruk 56. This line forms a pair with l. 57, which repeats it but with the common nouns replaced with proper nouns in inverted order. That being so, acc. a-ba-am is certainly an error for the nominative. Akk. abum = Sum. bil has already occurred in l. 52, where bil is also followed by lú.[tur?] for m⁄rum. At the end, târum = gi4, repeated in l. 57. Akk. li-Óu, for which no decipherable Sumerian counterpart survives here or in l. 57, is provisionally taken as subordinative lê’u (instead of le’û), a rare example of the stative conjugation of le’ûm “to be capable.” 57. Akk. Sîn “Moon God” = Sum. lugal “king,” a correspondance that recurs in l. 61; the equation does not appear in the big Old Babylonian god list, but is known to An = Anum III 17: dlugal = MIN (d30) (ed. Litke 1998: 118); Ellil = kur.gal, as already in l. 55; e.lum is an epithet that has already occurred in l. 16 as the counterpart of Akk. Ellil, but here it probably corresponds to the word that follows, i-[x x]. The end of the line repeats the end of l. 56. 58. Akk. ina = Sum. [-ta?], ˇ¤mum = Íu (OB Nigga 282: Íu glossed ˇe-mu-um). At the end all that remains of the Sumerian counterpart of izuzzum is the sign ib, which is probably not part of the verbal base but part of a transposed prefix chain. 59. Akk. u ina Íis‹t corresponds to Sumerian that has been lost in the break; apkallum (if correctly restored) = abgal, [apsûm] = é.abzu, Ea’s cosmic domain and the home of the apkallum-sages. After the break, Íak⁄num IV/1 = gar is a standard equation. 60. Akk. ˇupÍarr›tum = Sum. nam.dub.sar.ra, b‹t N[ippuru] = Nibru, raÍûm III/1 = tuk. 61. Akk. t¤‰‹tum = Sum. è, as in l. 28; Sîn = lugal, as in l. 57. If ik‰ir› is correctly read, it displays vowelling of an i/i class verb; ka‰⁄rum is normally a/u class, but note fiumma izbu XXI 3: Íarru(lugal) m⁄ta(kur) kal‹Íu(dù.a.bi) i-ke-‰í-ir “the king will unite the whole nation.” The derivation of li-ik‰í-ir or li-ik-sí-ir in divination prayers 103 remains uncertain (Starr 1983: 31 l. 32, 73, 124 l. 12). 62. Akk. [?] = Sum. gi6 “night,” kallatum = é.gi4.a, kuttumum = Íú, sa6 = ˇâbum II/1 (cf. Proto-Aa no. 7 ii 10: sa6 = ˇa-bu). A very similar form of words occurs in Maqlû I 2: mu-Íi-tum kal-la-tum kut-túm-tum “Night, veiled bride,” which an ancient commentary explains as a reference to Gula, the daughter-in-law of Enlil in Ekur (KAR 94: 6', restored from CAD K 82). Elsewhere, in a ritual prayer, the Wagon-constellation is similarly invoked as kal-lat é.kur kul-lultum “veiled bride of Ekur” (STT 73: 77 // YOS XI 75: 2 // UET VII 118 22', ed. Butler 1998: 358). In the present line the first word of the Akkadian can hardly be read muÍ‹tum or even m›Íum “night,” however. Given the evidence of the commentary on Maqlû, a possible reading is ‚dŸ[me.m]e, a name of Gula already in use in the Old Babylonian period, if Silbenvokabular A is correctly restored (BM 13902 i 1: [me.m]e = dg[u-la], ed. Sollberger 1965: 22). Another possible reading is ‚dŸ[níssab]a. It is not easy to decide between the two. Some theological background is necessary. Twelfth-century copies of the Silbenvokabular from Emar and Ugarit equate d me.me with both Gula and Nissaba: Emar 603: 7–8 // RS 17.41 obv. 10–11: me.me = dgu-la, dníssaba (ed. Arnaud 1987: 194, Nougayrol 1965: 34). An expanded form of the name is dme.me.sa6.ga “Lovely Meme” (Krebernik 1993). This name has a longer history, for it appears paired with Lugalgusisu in an Ur III offering list from Drehem (TCL II 5501 rev. i 30–31, see Sallaberger 1993 I 104), and is entered under the section on Ninkarrak-Ninisinna (Gula) in the big Old Babylonian god list (TCL XV 10 viii 374). The pairing with Lugalgusisu, a god of Nippur probably later syncretized with Nergal (George 1993a: 166), links Memesaga to Nippur. The god list suggests that a syncretism took place according to which Meme of Nippur was 104 Babylonian Literary Texts merged with Gula of Isin. Gula rose to become a prominent member of Enlil’s household as Ninurta’s bride and Enlil’s daughter-in-law, whose theology is set out in Bullussa-rabi’s hymn (Lambert 1967). Offering lists show that the goddess was already present at Nippur and in Ekur under the name Gula in the Old Babylonian period (Richter 1999a: 92). At that time the sanctuary or shrine called é.gal.maÓ probably belonged to her (George 1993a: 88–89 no. 323), while later she occupied the temple é.ùru.sag.gá (George 1993a: 158 no. 1208). As Meme, the bride Gula is thus a good candidate for the epithet kallatum kuttumtum in this line. However, there are two reservations: she has not appeared in the preceding story and she is not related to Sîn. Her appearance in this line would thus strike one as unconvincing. The alternative is Nissaba, whether written dme.me or dníssaba. Like Gula, this goddess belonged to the family of Enlil, but she has the additional advantages of seniority, being Sîn’s grandmother (see the introduction), and of having already appeared in the text, when invoked as the patroness of scribes (ll. 23–26). As already argued in the introduction, it would be highly appropriate, in an Edubba composition, for Nissaba, the patron deity of scribes, to resolve the dispute of rival scholars. 63. The line is a standard Sumerian doxology, and the Akkadian is secondary: Sum. a.a = Akk. abum, Enki = Ea, zà.mí = tanittum, dùg.ga = [ˇ⁄bum]. While a similar doxology ended Lugale, the bilingual version replaces the adjective dùg with maÓ: nir.gál a.a.ugu.na zà.mí.zu maÓ.a // e-tel abi a-li-di-Íu ta-na-ta-ka ‰i-rat “O champion of the father who sired him, your praise is sublime!” (Lugale bil. 728, ed. van Dijk 1983 II 181). COMMENTARY The matters arising from the presentation of this startling new piece of prose are several. First is the nature of the Sumerian translation, and the commentary will begin by sorting into categories the techniques employed in composing it. The implications of the composition for the history of Sumerian will then be considered. Finally, the commentary will explore the composition’s place and function in the Babylonians’ literary system. Techniques of Translation The techniques of translation employed by the author of this text deserve fuller exploration than can be made here, but a preliminary analysis can be offered. Some equivalences defy explanation, but most can be sorted into one of the following categories. 1. Substitution a) Substitution of normal Sumerian words by academic synonyms or near synonyms, often derived from lexical texts or through cognates: Íú instead of ki.Íár.ra “totality” (1 kiÍÍatim), rá instead of ri6 “go” (10, 12 littalk›, 11 littalak), è instead of a.da.mìn “dispute” (28 t¤‰‹t, 61 t¤‰‹tam), Íu instead of umuÍ “will” (58 ˇ¤m). b) Substitution of proper nouns by learned epithets: Íubax instead of unugki “Uruk” (1 Uruk), e.lum and kur.gal instead of den.líl (16, 57 Ellil), lugal “king” instead of dnanna (57, 61 Sîn). c) Substitution of a normal Sumerian equivalence by a near synonym: è “to go forth” instead of bùlug “to grow up” (2 tarbû), ka “mouth” instead of ká “doorway” (4, b⁄b), níg.ku7.ku7 “sweetness” instead of níg.sig5.ga “good fortune” (13 damq⁄tum), ri “yonder” instead of bad “apart” or sud “distant” (16 lir‹q), lú “man” instead of an.ta “colleague” (27 tappê!), pap “senior kinsman” instead of a.a, ad etc. “father” (32–34 ab‹Íu), téÍ.ta “everywhere” instead of dù.a.bi “everything” (39 kal⁄ma), dím “to make” instead of nam—tar “to determine destiny” (44 uÍ‹m), lú “men” instead of érin “band of men” (48 umm⁄n⁄t‹ya), égi.zi “priest- The Scholars of Uruk ess” instead of égi “lady” (49 rub⁄tum), tuk “to have” instead of gál “to exist” (49 ubaÍÍi’am), bil “paternal ancestor” instead of a.a, ad etc. “father” (52 abum, 56 abam), lú.[tur] “child” instead of dumu “son” (52 m⁄rim, 56 m⁄ram). d) Substitution of a normal Sumerian equivalence by a near homophone: gìn instead of gin7 “like” (1 k‹ma), ka instead of ká (4 b⁄b), búr instead of bùr (4 pilÍim!), si-(g) instead of sig18 (8 s¤r), gi4 instead of gi.(n) “to be firm” (10–12 lik›n›), zu instead of sù (17 aÓmuˇku), perhaps also zé instead of ezen “festival” (26 isin), ÓúÍ(GÌR) or mirix(GÌR) instead of ÓuÍ “angry” or mir “furious” (33 Íam⁄r), ri instead of rí = iri “city” (47 ⁄l‹ya). e) Substitution of a normal Sumerian equivalence by another value of the sign in question: gen(DU) instead of (im)—gub(DU) “to write” (20 a͡uru), gen(DU) instead of túm(DU).(ma) “suitable” (20 naˇû). This and the following category are based on syllogism: if a = b and b = c then a = c. f) Substitution of a normal Sumerian equivalence by the equivalence of an Akkadian homophone: zu (for sù, Akk. Óam⁄ˇum B) instead of ul4 “to hurry” (17 aÓmuˇku < Óam⁄ˇum A), mud5.me.gar (Akk. r‹Í⁄tum) “jubilation” instead of sag or nisag “first fruits” (25 r¤Í⁄t), tab (Akk. Óam⁄ˇum B) “to glow hot” instead of ul4 “to hurry” (31 iÓmuˇ < Óam⁄ˇum A), du12(TUK) “to sing” (cf. Akk. nubbûm “to sing a lament”) instead of sa4 “to call by name” (51 nabi’⁄t). g) Substitution of a normal compound sign by a simplified sign or an obscure variant of the compound: GÁ instead of arÓuÍ(GÁ™SAL) (43 r¤mam), LÚ™KAM? instead of du14(LÚ™NE) (10 ‰altim, 27 ‰âlum), DAG.KISIM™KAM? instead of ubur(DAG.KISIM™GA) (21 tulê). 2. Abbreviation Many compound Sumerian expressions are abbreviated: níg for níg.nam “something” (3 mimmûm), bal for áÍ—bal “to curse” (11 ezz¤rum), sar for áÍ—sar “to curse” (12 er›rum), zu for izi—sù.sù “to scorch” (17 aÓmuˇku), lá for igi—lá “to glance” (18 aˇˇul etc.), gi4 for ad—gi4 “to counsel” (19 mitlik) and inim—gi4 “to reply” (19 apul), gen(DU) for im—gub(DU) “to 105 write” (20 a͡uru), mí for mí—dug4 “to cherish” (26 takni’⁄t‹Íu), ág for mí.ág “cherished” (31 kunnûm), ri for i.ri or sag—rig7 “to bestow” (39 taÍruk, 44 iÍruk), tar for nam—tar “to determine destiny” (40 taÍ‹m), ág for ki—ág “to love” (41 tarammanni, irammanni), sag for sag.ki “forehead” (42 p⁄n‹), kù.zu for nam.kù.zu “wisdom” (45 n¤meqam, 54 n¤meq), gi16 for gi16.sa “eternal” (45 dari’am), tag4(K≤D) for gál—tag4 “to open” (46 ipte), gíd for gú—gíd “to take captive, abduct” (47 iÍlul), zíb.ba for AN.zíb (51 tele’îÍ). Many of these compounds appear similarly abbreviated in lexical lists. 3. Artificial Patterning This technique results in Sumerian phrases repeated fourfold as counterparts of different Akkadian words, mostly based on lexical equivalences: e.zu e.zu e.zu e.zu (17 ina eÓiz talmadu aÓmuˇku), ì.lá ì.lá ì.lá ì.lá (18 aˇˇul u‰appi uÍÍir ⁄mur), e.gi4 e.gi4 e.gi4 e.gi4 (19 t›r Íini mitlik apul), ì.gen ì.gen ì.gen ì.gen (20 allik erde ina Ía a͡ur›ma naˇû). The technique is related to those quasi-cryptic spellings that take advantage of the polyvalence of a particular sign, e.g. °A-°A°A-tum = ’a4-ku6-ku6-tum for akuk›tu, a metereological phenomenon. 4. False Grammar a) Use of wrong Sumerian pronouns: -gá for -gu10 “my” (1 ⁄l‹, 5 usukk‹ya, 44 ⁄l‹ya, 50 ⁄lim, 52 anni’⁄t‹ya), -gu10 for -gá “my” (3 b¤l‹ya, b¤lt‹ya), -zu for -za “your” (9 pîka, 21 libb‹ka), za.a for za.e “you” (2 atta), -en “me” for “my” (47 é.kur ri.en.Íè // ana ekur ⁄l‹ya, 54 [ma.d]a? géÍtug.en // uzun m⁄t‹ya), -bi “its” for -ani “his” (32 ab‹Íu, 43 r¤m‹Íu, 46 p‹Íu), -bi “its” for 1st sing. gen. “my” (53 kur.bi // m⁄t‹ya), -bi for 2nd sing. dative “for you” (43 mà.am.tuk.bi // arÍi’akkum), -eÍ and -aÍ as markers of plural nouns and adjectives (12 sar.re.eÍ // er›r‹, 13 níg.silim.e.eÍ // sullum⁄tum, 16 ne.ri.a.aÍ // ulli’⁄tim, 26 zi.dè.eÍ // k‹n⁄tum), -bi as a marker of a plural verb (30 ba.a.tuÍ.bi // uÍb›). Many of these usages can be substantiated by entries in lexical and grammatical texts. b) Use of Sumerian particles as independent lexemes, as substantiated by lexical equations: bi “and” (2 u), Íè “in” (2 ina). 106 Babylonian Literary Texts c) Reduplication to produce plural forms: ne.en.ne.en (15 anni’⁄tim). d) Addition of munus “woman” to produce fem. predicates on the Akkadian model, presuming munus = +Vt: dub.sar.munus (23 ˇupÍarrat), kù.zu.munus (23 emqet). e) Absence of Sumerian postpositions in phrases where Akkadian does not use a preposition or other particle: uru lugal for uru lugal.la (1 ⁄l Íarr‹), mu for mu ... a.(Íè) (4 aÍÍum ‰abt⁄t), Íà ma.da.gá.a for Íà ma.da.gá.ka (45). f) False order of nominal chain: ka.zu.a búr for ká bùr.zu.a (4 ina b⁄b pilÍ‹ka!), Íu.a ní.me.kam for Íu ní.gá.ka (5 ina Óum⁄t ram⁄n‹ya), ab líl.e.ba for líl ab.ba.gin7 (9 k‹ma ziq‹q aptim), bi.pap for pap.bi (32 ab‹Íu); included here are preposed genitives in possessive phrases where the rectum lacks the expected pronominal reflex: géÍtug nin for nin géÍtug.ga or géÍtug.ga nin.bi (24 b¤let uznim), bàn.da nin for nin bàn.da-(ak) or bàn.da nin.bi (24 b¤let taÍ‹mtim), kur.gá sì.sì? for sì.sì kur.gá or kur.gá sì.sì.bi (51 Óissat m⁄t‹ya), uru na.gá.àm (53 Íumi ⁄l‹ya), [ma.d]a? géÍtug.en (54 uzun m⁄t‹ya). g) False order of members of a clause: Íu.mú bal ak.dè (28 inazzar kar⁄b ‹puÍ›). h) False inversion of verbal base and prefix chain: è.da.bí.ib (2 tarbû), al.bir.al.bir.ri.ib (3 tusappiÓ), i.ra.nú (6 ribi‰), i.ib.si.ge.eÍ (8 s¤r), ba.e.Óa.lam (9 Óulliq), giÍ tuk.ba.àm (30 iÍm¤ma), gar.ra.a.ba (50 Íaknu), ma.a.ab.Óúl (52 Óudu), [gub.bí].ib (58 izziz). i) Compounding of conjugation prefix /al/ with verbal base: al.ba.ma.ab (3 tamÍuÓ), al.bir.al.bir.ri.ib (3 tusappiÓ). j) Omission of verbal prefix chain: di.bi (7 aqabbû), bal (28 inazzar), ak.dè (28 ‹puÍ›), tab (31 iÓmuˇ). 5. Erroneous equivalences Some equivalences seem to rest on simple error: Íe.ús “to thresh” = Íuˇ›bum “kind” (11), through a misreading of di’⁄Íum “to thresh” as ˇi’⁄bum “to be pleasing”; Íu—bal “to exchange” instead of inim—bal “to talk” (36 ‹tawwu); ÍúÍana “one-third” for Íanabi “two-thirds” (39 Íitt¤n). Little consistency emerges from this analysis: the picture is more one of a virtuoso display of all the possibilities presented by the bilingual scribal culture of the time. The next section of commentary will return to some of these techniques as they occur in other examples of academic Sumerian, but first it is necessary to say something of the pedagogical context from which academic Sumerian emerged. Academic Sumerian Scholarship in Old Babylonian scribal schools was not only a matter of learning Sumerian literary compositions by heart and making fair copies of them. It is clear from the what we call the Edubba literature (see below) that many pedagogical practices were in use. One of these was the analysis of Sumerian words and sentences by translation into Akkadian; another was translation from Akkadian into Sumerian. This is most clearly expressed by a passage of the bilingual Examenstext A that uses technical terminology and has consequently sometimes been slightly misunderstood. It reads: inim.bal inim.Íár.Íár an.ta eme uriki.ra ki.ta e[me.gi7.ra] an.ta eme.gi7.[ra ki.ta eme uriki.ra] i.zu.u inim.bal.e.da Íu-ta-bu-la e-liÍ ak-ka-da-[a] ÍapliÍ Íu-me-ru Íap-liÍ ak-ka-da-a e-liÍ Íu-me-ru [t]i-de-e Examenstext A 14, ed. Sjöberg 1975a: 140 Do you know translation and interpretation, from Akkadian into Sumerian, from Sumerian into Akkadian? In this passage eliÍ and ÍapliÍ, and so too their Sumerian counterparts, an.ta and ki.ta, do not denote the respective locations of lines of interlinear Sumerian and Akkadian text upon a tablet, “above” and “below” (pace Sjöberg 1975a: 156; CAD fi/3 273). It is now known that in grammar the two terms an.ta = elû and ki.ta = Íaplû refer to prefix and suffix respectively (Shaffer 1981, Black 1991: 88). Their use in Examenstext A reveals a conceptual understanding of translation in which the source lan- The Scholars of Uruk guage is “at the front” and the target language “at the rear.” This understanding very obviously arose from the physical layout of the simplest of all explanatory texts, the lexical lists in which an unfamiliar word in the left-hand sub-column (usually Sumerian) was interpreted by a familiar word in the right-hand column (Akkadian). Because the direction of reading and writing was left to right, the source term was encountered first (i.e. at the front), the target term second (i.e. at the rear). According to Examenstext A, translation from Akkadian to Sumerian took priority over translation from Sumerian into Akkadian. That both were standard pedagogical techniques in the Old Babylonian school is made clear by a less well-known and more fragmentary Old Babylonian Edubba composition published by Miguel Civil under the title “bilingual teaching” (Civil 1998), in a passage that surely evokes one of the first lessons in learning to write on clay: a teacher enjoins a student to translate Akkadian imperatives, all related to the art of making a clay tablet, into Sumerian, and then back again. The first of these exercises, translation from Akkadian into Sumerian, is again given priority. It lies at the heart of the present text and of other texts in which the Sumerian is secondary; that it had priority over the opposite exercise has implications to which I shall return. Translation from Sumerian to Akkadian was usually a matter of revealing meaning. Such translation, whether in the bilingual lexical lists or in running texts, explained the unfamiliar in terms of the familiar. Translation of Akkadian into Sumerian, as witnessed by the Edubba texts cited above, was surely an exercise designed to test mastery of vocabulary, grammar, and syntax, like Latin composition in a more modern school. A nice example of such Sumerian is the passage from the Date Palm and the Tamarisk set down on an Old Babylonian tablet found at Susa (Cavigneaux 2003: 53–57). Its editor gives good reasons for believing that the text derives from an Akkadian original. In fact, the text’s origin as a Babylonian composition is immediately visible in the vocabulary and syntax of the opening two lines: 107 giÍ Íinig ka!.ba mu.ni.in.ak bí.in.dug4 gù bí.in.dug4 giÍgiÍimmar.ra.Íè Cavigneaux 2003: 55 ll. 1–2 This couplet is unique in Sumerian poetry but unmistakably a translation of a standard formula of the Babylonian poetic repertoire, right down to the calque of pâm ep¤Íum (ka ak) and the word order of the third clause. The composer certainly had the following Akkadian in mind: *b‹num pâÍu ‹puÍamma iqabbi izzakkaram ana giÍimmarim Tamarisk opened his mouth to speak, saying to Date Palm. This three-verb pattern is no. 3 in Franz Sonnek’s typology of the formulae that introduce direct speech in Babylonian narrative poetry (Sonnek 1940). It does not occur in any of the Akkadian versions of Date Palm and Tamarisk, as far as the text is now extant (Wilcke 1989), but it is common in Standard Babylonian narrative poetry. The existence of a Sumerian calque of the three-verb pattern on an Old Babylonian tablet means that this pattern is now revealed as another specifically Old Babylonian feature of verse composition in Akkadian. It also makes a very clear statement that, already in the Old Babylonian period, composers of Sumerian were liable to replicate Akkadian patterns of language, rather than Sumerian. Another motive seems to have arisen in translating into Sumerian, not among students but among scholars. As the living tradition of Sumerian literature receded from memory, Akkadian texts began to be converted into Sumerian not to reveal meaning or to demonstrate competence but to codify them in the old language of prestige that had become the property of scholarship. This had the effect, no doubt deliberate, of hiding meaning. The esoteric nature of Sumerian is explicit in another passage of Examenstext A, which refers to “unravelling the hidden meaning of Sumerian” (Sjöberg 1975a: 140 l. 13: eme.gi7 . . . níg.dul.bi . . . bur.ra // ina Íu-me-ri . . . ka-tim-ta-Íú . . . Íeˇ[a-a], restored after CAD fi/2 343). For this reason texts in academic Sumerian, which derive from Akkadian originals, whether writ- 108 Babylonian Literary Texts ten or in the mind of their composer, can be difficult to understand. While late Sumerian is a mode of linguistic expression clearly distinct from the Sumerian of the third millennium, a thorough study of it is lacking. A typical response to it is that of W. G. Lambert, who found the Sumerian of a Middle Assyrian bilingual inscription “obscure in the extreme,” “totally artificial,” and “fully conform[ing] to J. Halévy’s view of Sumerian as a learned scribal code” (Lambert 1976: 86). He drew attention to comparable material from late second-millennium Babylonia: the bilingual royal inscriptions from the Kassite and Second Isin dynasties and Kassite-period seal inscriptions studied by Henri Limet (1971). In reviewing Limet’s book Lambert wrote in more detail, noting how far removed Kassite-period Sumerian was from the language of Gudea, demonstrating that “new grammatical forms were being created on the model of Akkadian,” and observing that the result depended on knowledge of contemporaneous lexical series rather than classical Sumerian texts (Lambert 1975: 222). All this could equally well be said of the language displayed by the composition presented here. Eckart Frahm more recently characterized the eleventh-century Akkadian-based Sumerian written by the court scribes of Adad-aplaiddina as exhibiting a “marked weakness” for rare values and for cryptographic spellings of words, especially proper nouns (Frahm 2001: 181). The same can be said, to varying degrees, for much other post-Old Babylonian Sumerian, not only the compositions specified by Lambert and Frahm but also the monolingual statue inscription of Kurigalzu (Kramer 1948) and bilingual inscriptions of first-millennium kings. Thorkild Jacobsen compared the bilingual texts that celebrate Nebuchadnezzar I’s victory over Elam to the seventh-century bilingual inscription of fiamaÍ-Íuma-uk‹n, and found that the Sumerian of both had much in common (Jacobsen 1991). It is instructive to revisit his analysis of late Sumerian in the light of the present text. Jacobsen found several features that in the analysis given above would be placed in the category of “substitution” (above, section 1). Prominent was the frequent substitution of Emegir words by Emesal dialect forms, a strategy that is little employed in the present text: see only e.lum for alim (16). He observed an example of a switch in Sumerian value, as above under 1.(e), which he characterized as a “learned pun” (1991: 287, nussuqu = múÍ.ga because múÍ = suÓ). And he noted an example that combines near homophony in both Sumerian and Akkadian, as above under 1.(d) and 1.(f), which he considered an example of punning (1991: 290, ‰urru “heart” = su because ‰urru “flint, obsidian” = zú). Jacobsen noted a confusion between “personal” and “non-personal” elements, e.g. -ene for -bi, between third and first-person pronouns, and between pronominal elements of different function (1991: 284–87, 290). These would be placed in my category of “false grammar” (above, section 4). Jacobsen analyzed them as a disregard for gender under Akkadian influence and as examples of misinterpretation of grammatical texts. Our text adds much to his evidence: see above, 4.(a). He also called attention to the use of the verbal base without prefix chain but with finite meaning, which he considered an Akkadianism (1991: 283–84, 289); see above, 4.(j). Jacobsen identified false ordering of words as evidence for Akkadianized sentence structure (1991: 285) and, more perversely, “syntactic displacement” (1991: 287–88, 290–91); see above, 4.(f) and 4.(g). From his vantage point as a leading twentieth-century Sumerologist, Jacobsen could not help comparing this late Sumerian with the language of early royal inscriptions and literature. He found it wanting, and called it “abstruse Sumerian.” It is better not to make the comparison. The composers of this Sumerian knew it as a language of erudition, and they knew it principally from lexical lists and grammatical tables. Particularly after the reform of the Old Babylonian scribal curriculum that saw most Sumerian literary compositions consigned to oblivion, their models were pedagogical and academic. That Sumerian thereafter became increasingly abstruse is a symptom of the fact that it had become entirely an academic language. It is thus The Scholars of Uruk proper to speak of late Sumerian as academic Sumerian. The summary exposition presented above of the techniques of translation used by the present text’s composer demonstrates that he took the process of codifying his text beyond the usual conventions of academic Sumerian. The versions of Sumerian of the mid- to late second millennium and thereafter are orthodox by comparison. The place of this new composition in the history of ancient Mesopotamian intellectual culture is thus important. Recourse to bilingual lists and homophonic substitution are academic strategies much used in later Babylonian scholarship, especially hermeneutics, as becomes abundantly clear in first-millennium commentaries and explanatory texts. Consequently one has to raise the question of whether this composition might be a late text that emulates Old Babylonian, in the manner of those suspected of such pretence by B. R. Foster (2003: 79–80). My view, already expressed above, is that the tablet’s ductus and orthography settle the matter, for they both exhibit distinctive practices that are diagnostic of the Old Babylonian period and not known later (for details see p. 82). In addition, neither language nor writing is affected by the tell-tale anachronisms in vocabulary found in texts that pretend to be older than they really are. The present composition shows accordingly that the bilingual virtuosity that characterized Babylonian intellectual enquiry in the first millennium was already prevalent among scholars in the Old Babylonian period. It thus affords us new insight into the function of Sumerian in the intellectual life of Babylonia in the first part of the second millennium BC. The present text is not the only evidence that the history of academic Sumerian begins not in the post-Old Babylonian periods but earlier. By the eighteenth century Old Babylonian scholars established a tradition of coining Sumerian personal names by translation from Akkadian; the results, e.g. Utu-manÍum < fiamaÍiddinam, were grammatically sound but not authentic by the standards of earlier Sumerian anthroponymy. A short example of composition in academic Sumerian was found at Sippar 109 Amn⁄num (Tell ed-D¤r) in the house of the lamentation-priest Ur-Utu, who flourished during the reign of Ammi‰aduqa (conventionally 1646–1626). It is not yet published but has been described by the late Léon De Meyer as “un petit document religieux inédit, le Di 761, qui porte, au revers, un texte accadien de quatre lignes en cursive paléo-babylonienne tardive, et, à la face, écrite à l’aide de signes archaïsants, une transposition (aussi en quatre lignes) en sumérien ‘savant’” (De Meyer 1982: 275). The contrast between the learned Sumerian in archaizing script and the Akkadian in cursive script is a clear indication of the writer’s purpose: to convert a readily comprehensible text into something more recondite. A later copy of a commemorative inscription of Ammi‰aduqa from Nippur maintains a similar distinction, rendering the Sumerian text in elaborate archaizing script and the Akkadian text in a regular Middle Babylonian hand (BE I 129, ed. Frayne 1990: 425–27). More importantly for the present argument, the Sumerian of this inscription is so far removed from the language of third-millennium texts that Arno Poebel considered it a third variety, neither “Hauptdialekt” (i.e. Emegir) nor Emesal (Poebel 1923: 5). Its academic origin is quite clear from its use of Sumero-Akkadian equivalences otherwise found in “late lexical texts and commentaries” (Frayne 1990: 425). Seal inscriptions on tablets from D›rAbieÍuÓ add to the evidence by demonstrating that the difficult, academic Sumerian typical of Kassite-period seals was already in vogue among seal-cutters in the late Old Babylonian period, when the cult and personnel of Nippur were removed to D›r-AbieÍuÓ (Van Lerberghe and Voet forthcoming; see also below, the commentary on Text No. 17). The names of some of the kings of the ensuing Sealand dynasty—GulkiÍar, PeÍgaldaramaÍ and Ayadaragalamma—are probably exotic Sumerian versions of ordinary Babylonian personal names, and then vouch for a continuity of tradition in Sumerian in the southeast of Babylonia during the sixteenth century. Unpublished omen tablets show that the period of the Sealand kings was a time when Babylonian scholarship, inher- 110 Babylonian Literary Texts ited from Nippur and D›r-AbieÍuÓ, continued to flourish under royal patronage (George 2008: 63). The Ancients’ Perception of Sumerian The present composition is an early example of translation into academic Sumerian, from the familiar to the unfamiliar, taken to extremes. It is important evidence for academic Sumerian as a product of the bilingual intellectual culture of Old Babylonian scholarship. It is also important for the insight it gives us on how Sumerian was perceived by those who used it at that time. It is nothing new that the Babylonians believed language and writing to be god-given, but this composition adds to the idea. The verb used in describing the delivery to Uruk of the art of writing is Íal⁄lum “to carry off (by force)” (l. 47). This is a strange word to use in reference to the Babylonian myth of the civilization of mankind. This myth we know best from Berossus’s Babyloniaca where Oannes (the sage Adapa), emerging from the sea to impart to the Babylonians knowledge and technology of all kinds, is the first of a series of such beings (Jacoby 1958: 369–70; Verbrugghe and Wickersham 1996: 48; on Oannes see further Wilcke 1991, Foster 1994, Streck 2003c). An allusion to the myth occurs in a native text, a short Sumero-Akkadian composition about the sebet apkall› “seven sages” that holds their origin to be sea and river alike (Reiner 1961: 2 ll. 5'–9'). It is always assumed that the sages were sent by Enki-Ea as his agents, and that he was as complicit in the civilizing of mankind in this myth as he is in Sumerian mythology, as especially witnessed by the composition known as Enki and the World Order (Komoróczy 1973: 145–46). But one cannot rule out another interpretation of the myth, that Oannes and other mythical sages acted on their own initiative, like Prometheus. There is another Mesopotamian myth that certainly imagines the diffusion of civilization as an involuntary process. According to the narrative poem we call Inanna and Enki, the god Enki of Eridu gave his young niece, Inanna of Uruk, certain cosmic powers (the mes) while drunk, regretted it in the morning but failed to recover them despite many attempts (FarberFlügge 1973). The myth is a charter for Inanna, in that the powers Inanna thus won from her uncle served as a commentary on her divine identity (Glassner 1992). But it also explains how Uruk came to be the greatest urban center of prehistoric Mesopotamia, for the mes she took to Uruk included many of the prerequisites for social organization and urban living. Thus in this tradition civilization was transmitted inadvertently and against Enki’s will, and came first to Uruk. The composition Inanna and Enki was not a favorite copy-text in the Old Babylonian period, but no doubt the myth it articulated of the transfer of the mes from Eridu to Uruk was particularly vital in Uruk, for it substantiated Uruk’s position as the birthplace of writing. The story told by the present text, in which Ea freely grants (Íar⁄kum) wisdom to Uruk and a sage takes scholarly knowledge there by force (Íal⁄lum), combines elements of both myths. The scholarly knowledge introduced to Uruk by the sage is referred to specifically as (a) ˇupÍarr›tum, the technology, learning and practice of the scribe (l. 47), and (b) Íumerum “Sumerian” (l. 48). That Nissaba, the goddess of scribes, put the finishing touches to Ea’s gift reaffirms the focus of the text on written, Sumerian learning, above all the other arts of civilization. The same emphasis on written learning has been observed in Berossus’s account of Oannes, who gave mankind knowledge of “ancestry and citizenship” in written form (Foster 1974: 347 n. 12). The present composition’s emphasis on Sumerian as the sole property of scribes and scholars corroborates the widely accepted view that Sumerian had long disappeared from the speech of the streets by the Old Babylonian period, and survived only as the language of erudition, the preserve of a tiny literate elite; but the implications of this have not been fully realized. The projection of scholarship’s exclusive control of Sumerian back into the remote, mythical past ignores the historical fact that it was once a vernacular language. It is almost as if, in the Old Babylonian period, they had forgotten that ordinary people had ever spoken Sum- The Scholars of Uruk erian. Perhaps they had; certainly the Babylonians’ own statements concerning Sumerian nowhere acknowledge that it was anything other than a special language used by the initiated, whether spoken, written and analyzed by scribes and scholars, or sung by trained choristers and cantors. The passages quoted above about translation in the Edubba literature show that translation from Sumerian into Akkadian was preceded by the opposite, and so give the impression that Babylonian teachers believed there could be no Sumerian text without a preexisting Akkadian text. This is no vindication of Joseph Halévy’s rightly discredited position that Sumerian was an artificial, coded form of the Semitic language of ancient Mesopotamia (on this nineteenth-century controversy see Cooper 1993); but one suspects that Babylonian scholars would, themselves, have agreed with him. Genre and Purpose The text’s preoccupation with the topic of writing and scholarship is significant for its place in the Babylonians’ literary system. Compositions that celebrated the art of writing often did so by situating the topic in the context of scribal education. Such texts are known today by the generic term Edubba literature, after the Sumerian for scribal school, é.dub.ba.a. A comprehensive modern treatment of Edubba literature is lacking but its general character is conveyed in the selection of texts treated by Samuel Noah Kramer (1963: 237–48); for bibliography up to 1987 see Dietz Otto Edzard’s sections on Schulstreitgespräche, Schulsatiren and Erzählend-belehrende Literatur in his summary of Sumerian literary compositions (Edzard and Röllig 1987: 44– 45). The subdivision of the genre into school disputes and school satires has been criticized as spurious (van der Toorn 1991: 64 n. 21). The genre of Edubba literature was longlived. The oldest representatives are monolingual Sumerian compositions known from midOld Babylonian copies. They are already anachronistic, however, for they describe an institution that belongs more probably to the Ur III and early Isin periods than to the late eighteenth century (George 2005). Several Sumerian Edub- 111 ba compositions were still extant in the first millennium, when they were provided with Babylonian translations. The function of these often witty texts, of whatever period, was certainly pedagogical; they instructed learner scribes in the intellectual traditions of Sumer and Babylonia, held up as the highest good, and inculcated moral rectitude and seemly behavior also (Volk 2000, Vanstiphout 1997). Some Edubba compositions took the form of disputes between rival individuals (school disputes). The present composition is no dispute but, as a monologue in which one scribe harangues another for his inadequacies, it is of similar tone. The revelation that the rival pair of scholars are father and son adds piquancy to the situation and invites comparison with the satire known as the Father and his Disobedient Son, a monologue in which a father laments his son’s failure to attend the Edubba and lack of interest in following in his footsteps (Sjöberg 1973, Alster 1975). Unlike that feckless boy, the son of the present text is successful, for he has become a scholar renowned in his own right. This is a scenario not unlike that of the dialogue known as the Supervisor and the Scribe (transl. Vanstiphout 1997: 590–92). There the senior figure, selfcongratulatory at first, is won over by the younger man’s protestations of obedience and success, and concludes by blessing him for his good works. The present text does not arrive at the same conclusion. The father, who began by contrasting his son’s fumbling first attempts with his own brilliance, continues to assert his own enduring superiority at the end. The father-and-son dynamic operates very commonly in the genre of instructions, both in the ancient Near East, where it mimics the social setting of education (van der Toorn 1991: 62), and in later cultures (see the bibliography in Alster 1991: 105 n. 11). The moral tone of such texts is the same as that which informs the present composition: father knows best, so obey him and you will be successful. The piece published here emerges as an important piece of scribal literature, unusual for the period in being written in Akkadian rather than Sumerian, but comparable in genre and mode with several of the Edubba compositions that were handed 112 Babylonian Literary Texts down in scribal education in the Old Babylonian period and later. Having looked at its content, form, and genre, I raise the question as to what this composition was for. It is possible to suppose that it was to be taken seriously, as a virtuoso demonstration of recherché learning, in which a master teacher shows off to his pupils the fullness of his scholarship and, in particular, his mastery of the bilingual lexical and grammatical texts. Much of the Edubba literature in Sumerian certainly had a serious intent, for all its well-acknowledged wit, in that it conveyed the notion of scribal learning as the highest intellectual art. Not for nothing does Examenstext D eulogize the learning of the different varieties of Sumerian as nì.zu diri.ga // iÓ-zu Íu-tu-ru “the highest form of knowledge” (Sjöberg 1972: 126–27 l. 14). A text in which a father asserts the superiority of his scholarship over his son’s is a fitting vehicle for ultra-learned Sumerian, for by its very erudition the Sumerian itself vindicates his claim beyond any refutation. Thorkild Jacobsen concluded his study of “abstruse Sumerian” with a similar thought: “The various peculiarities here discussed seem to lead naturally to the conclusion that scribes of the first millennium B.C.E and perhaps earlier were conversant with a highly artificial and abstruse style in which to compose cryptic pseudo-Sumerian texts. Why they would have done so is less clear; one can only guess that such a style was considered a proof of supreme learning and that what appears to us as blunders and ignorance, to them was seen rather as profound erudition posing challenging riddles to less acute minds” (1991: 291). In a footnote to this sentence Jacobsen made the connection between the techniques employed in composing academic Sumerian and those employed by first-millennium hermeneutical texts, in which Sumerian is the vehicle for the exploration of hidden meaning. The comparison is well made and, though it needs further study, speaks again for a seriousness of intent in the composition of academic Sumerian as a mode of expressing and concealing meaning. Yet one may also argue that the learning here is taken to such extremes, and the Sumerian so exceptional in comparison to anything else produced in the second and first millennia, that the composition may be taken as a satirical piece, which makes fun of the father as a scholar who professes himself learned but does not, in fact, understand how to compose correct Sumerian. Even so, it might still have served a serious pedagogical purpose, in showing students of the Babylonian intellectual culture how far it was possible to go wrong if not deeply immersed in Sumerian literature and scholarship. The debate is open. A Literary Letter of Sîn-muballiˇ No. 15 3302 This is a long, narrow tablet inscribed in a single column with sixty-three lines of Old Babylonian cuneiform. The text is a letter sent by Sîn-muballiˇ to an enemy of Yamutbalum. The Sîn-muballiˇ in question is certainly the brother of R‹m-Sîn, king of Larsa and Yamutbal (1822–1763). The name of the addressee is lost, but, as becomes clear from the rest of the letter, he is the ruler of a minor polity and evidently an erring vassal of Larsa whose actions have annoyed R‹m-Sîn. The letter is written carefully in a minute scholarly hand. The same hand appears to have written at least one other letter in the Schøyen Collection, MS 3523, whose sender’s name is damaged but differs from that of MS 3302. Other letters in the collection with similarly small and elegant, but not identical, scripts are from the correspondence of R‹m-Sîn himself and from persons in his service. The script-type is that characterized by F. R. Kraus in volumes of Altbabylonische Briefe as “R‹m-Sîn-Schrift,” a term that he explains in the foreword to AbB V as “ein gewisser Handschrifttyp . . . , welcher auf anscheinend oft spitzeckigen Tafeln mit Daten des Königs R‹m-Sîn von Larza z.B. in Nippur und Larsa vorkommt” (Kraus 1972: xi). As a typical example Kraus cited A 564, a letter now in Chicago, supposedly from Bismaya (ancient Adab) and published in photograph by Leroy Waterman (1930–36 IV pl. II no. 5). M. Stol, who edited A 564 as AbB XI 135, noted the supposed provenance but commented further that the “writing is typical of Larsa” (1986: 88 n. 135a). Many of the Schøyen Collection’s tablets in “R‹m-Sîn script” fall under the number MS 2776, a group of thirty-two letters that also contains less beautifully written tablets, including correspondence from an earlier king of Lar- Pls. 44–47 sa, Sumuel. While a provenance in Adab (or Nippur) cannot be ruled out absolutely, it seems more likely that all these tablets formed part of the royal archives of Larsa, and that many were fair copies of state correspondence retained for reference. Further study of the collection’s large holding of Old Babylonian letters will undoubtedly sharpen our understanding. The present text displays highly literary vocabulary and style very unlike the other, more mundane correspondence, and it is singled out for inclusion in the present volume for that reason. Some of the issues it raises concerning the nature of poetry and prose in Babylonian literary creativity are discussed in the commentary, followed by a brief account of the letter’s historical context. Content The conventional opening formula is all but lost (ll. 1–3), so that only the sender’s name is recoverable. No conventional niceties follow the formula but instead an assertion that the addressee’s power devolves from R‹m-Sîn (4– 5). Then comes a broken sentence, the full sense of which eludes me (5–7). Thereafter Sîn-muballiˇ asserts that R‹m-Sîn did not attack the town of Malgium, citing three classic offensive strategies from which he abstained: damming of the water supply, wrecking of harvest by flooding, and destruction of date-palm plantations (8–13). During this time Malgium enjoyed an ideal peace: the open country was safe for both city-dwellers and pastoralists, even at night, under the security of a pax Larsana, as it were (14–19). Then the situation changed. The statement that Malgium sinned against the gods of Nippur (20–23) offers the usual ideological pretext for a defeat in war. Malgium’s 113 114 Babylonian Literary Texts subsequent loss of independence is symbolized by the destruction of its royal emblems (24–26). Sîn-muballiˇ does not imply that Larsa was responsible for Malgium’s demise. At this point the addressee seems to have taken advantage of Larsa’s distraction by acting in a way so intolerable to the senior state that his behavior is said to offend the cosmic order, sending the very skies into reverse (27–30). The gods of Yamutbal will never allow the memory of this treachery to be erased (31–35). As a consequence, the addressee already finds himself politically isolated, ostracized, and in fear for his life, a passage characterized by vivid literary imagery (36–45). Sîn-muballiˇ then repeats the accusation with even greater hyperbole: in meddling with Larsa the addressee has tried to put a brake on the motion of the stars (46–48). The result is that he has humiliated himself before his fellow rulers (49–50), presumably by begging to enter into an alliance on any terms. But while repeating the accusation that the addressee has committed a hostile act against R‹m-Sîn’s state, Sîn-muballiˇ is inclined to give him another chance (51–55). He ends by telling him to remain in place as ruler of his city until R‹m-Sîn himself makes his wishes known (56– 63). Aspects of Language and Writing The literary style of this letter is discussed in the commentary below. The vocabulary and language are otherwise unremarkable, but note an abbreviated 2.m.sg. stative, waÍb⁄t (40, 45) instead of waÍb⁄ta. Turning to matters of writing and spelling, one observes that sign forms vary from elaborate to plain. The sign lu often looks like ku (ll. 7, 26, 42). A distinctive feature is that when the sign a follows a sign ending in an upright wedge, the two signs are often (but not always) written so close together that they resemble a single sign: la a (29), ba a (40, 45), ka a (55). This is a feature observed also in some Middle Assyrian hands from AÍÍur. Mimation is absent on several occasions: mà-al-gi4-a (9), iamu-ut-ba-la, a-Óa (29), Ía-ki-ik-ku (39, 41), gi-talu-tu (41), qù-la-tu Ía-ak-na-ku (43), i-Ía-ap-para-ak-ku (61), a-la (62). Geminated consonants are occasionally written defectively: ki-t[um?] (5), gi4-Íi-ma-ar-Íu (13), te-bé-li (33), gi-ta-lu-tu (41), ta-ka-lu (42), ‰i-bi-ti (44), tu-‰a-ab (59). There is one “broken” writing: tu-sà-ap-pa-úÓ (57). Short vowels are sometimes marked plene: i-Íu-ú (23), nu-ú-uÍ-Íu (25), te-pu-ú-Íu (31). The vetitive particle ay is written a (35). As one might expect with a letter probably originating in a scriptorium controlled by Larsa, the spelling of sibilants follows southern conventions. The syllable /sV/ is written with signs from the ZVrange: ku-us-sí (24, 40), tu-sà-ap-pa-úÓ (57), except in the case of a word from the root 3slm: sa-lim (19) and in the toponym ì-si-in (53). The latter is normal in Old Babylonian, but derives from the third millennium and preserves an old spelling properly read ì-Íí-in. The syllable /ka/ is also once written archaically, with the sign GA: [qá-a]t-kà (27). TRANSLITERATION 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 [a-na PN] [qí-bí-ma] [um-m]a ‚dsîn(suen)Ÿ-mu-‚baŸ-[lí-iˇ-ma] ‚ÍaŸ mdri-‚imŸ-dsîn(s[ue]n) [Íarrim(lugal)?] id-ka-ma ki-t[um?] i-di x Íi im [x] lu-ú x [x] md ri-im-dsîn(suen) ‚béŸ-l[i-i] ⁄lam(uru)ki mà-al-gi4-a na-ar-Íu ú-ul is-ki-ir ú-ga-ri-i-Íu A Literary Letter of Sîn-muballiˇ 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 rev. 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 me-e ú-ul ú-Ía-bi-il gi4-Íi-ma-ar-Íu ú-ul ik-ki-is wa-‰i a-bu-ul-li-i-Íu e-em ú-Ía-am-Íu-ú i-bi-a-at ù ni-Íu na-we-e-Íu a-bu-ur-ri ra-ab-‰a sa-lim bé-li-ia sa-[l]im-Íu a-lum malgium(murgu)ki it-ti den-líl ma-li-ki-im ra-bi-im ù dnin-urta a-Ía-re-ed é.kur ar-na-am i-Íu-ú ku-us-sí Íar-ru-ti-i-Íu nu-ú-uÍ-Íu [ù] pa-lu-Íu! na-as-‚ÓuŸ [qá-a]t-kà tu-ma-a‰-‰í-[m]a [Ía]-me-e ta-as-ki-ip ‚ùŸ ia-mu-ut-ba-la a-Óa ra-bi-a-am te-eg-ri a-wa-at te-pu-ú-Íu a-na wa-ar-ki-at u4-mi-im ú-ul te-bé-‚liŸ d sîn(suen) ù dÍamaÍ(utu) bé-el ia-mu-ut-ba-lim i-na a-wa-tim a ip-ˇù-ru-ni-ik-kum iÍ-tu u4-mi-im Ía a-na ia-mu-ut-ba-lim tu-ga-al-li-lu i-na ma-a-a-li-i-ka la ‰a-la-lum Ía-ki-ik-ku i-na ku-us-sí wa-aÍ-ba-a-at gi-ta-lu-tu Ía-ki-ik-ku i-na pa-aÍ-Íu-ú[r t]a-ka-lu qù-la-tu Ía-‚akŸ-na-ku i-na ‰i-bi-ti ra-ma-ni-i-ka-ma wa-aÍ-ba-a-at qá-at-ka tu-ma-a‰-‰í-i-ma a-na e-ri-iq Ía-me-e bu-ba-a-tim ta-la-a-aˇ e-ri-in-na-am ta-aÓ-ta-pa-ar-ma Ía-ar-ri ta-‚asŸ-Óu-ur ia-mu-ut-ba-lam a-‚ÓaŸ-am ra-bi-a-am te-eg-ri Íum-ma elamtam(NIM.MA)‚kiŸ urukki ì-si-inki ù-Íi-zi-ib ù ka-a-ti lu-Íi-zi-ib-ka ma-ak-ku-ur ekallim(é.gal)lim la tu-sà-ap-pa-úÓ ar-na-am a-na ar-ni-im la tu-‰a-ab 115 116 Babylonian Literary Texts a-di mdri-im-dsîn(suen) mu-uÍ-ta-lum i-Ía-ap-pa-ra-ak-ku a-la a-na bé-li-i-Íu ú-‰ú-ur 60 61 62 63 TRANSLATION [To PN, say, thus] Sîn-muballiˇ: 4–5 Your power belongs to [king] R‹m-Sîn! In truth, 6 the power of . . . 7 let . . . 8 [My] lord R‹m-Sîn 9–10 did not block the waterway leading to the town of Malgium, 11–12 he did not arrange for water to carry off its crops, 13 he did not cut down its datepalms. 14 (Any)one who departed from its gate 15–16 would pass the night wherever he found himself at nightfall, 17 and the people of its grazing country 18 were (like cows) lying in pasture. 19 The peace of my lord was its peace. 20 The town of Malgium 23 sinned 21 against Enlil, the great counsellor, 22 and Ninurta, the champion of E-kur. 24 Its thrones of kingship 25 are dislodged, 26 [and] its regalia torn out. 27 You interfered(?) and 28 thrust back the skies, 29–30 and you picked a fight with the big brother Yamutbalum. 31 The thing that you did 32–3 will not be extinguished for the rest of time. 34 Sîn and Shamash, the lords of Yamutbalum, 35 shall not release you from (your responsibility in) the matter. 36–37 From the day that you sinned against Yamutbalum, 38 in your bed lying sleepless 39 has been your lot, 40 on the chair you occupy 41 flinching in terror has been your lot, 42 at the table you eat from 43 deathly quiet has been your lot. 45 You dwell 44 in a prison of your own making! 46 You interfered(?), 47–48 (as if) trying to clamp the axles of the Wagon-of-the49 Sky. You have placed a “yoke” over your head and 50 made the rounds of kings. 52 You picked a fight with 51 the big brother Yamutbalum. 53–54 If it can spare Elam, Uruk and Isin, 55 then should I spare you too? 57 Do not squander 56 the palace’s property, 59 do not add 58 sin to sin! 60 Until the judicious R‹m-Sîn 61 sends you word, 63 look after 62 the town for its lord! 1 2 3 NOTES 27. The phrase recurs in l. 46. CAD M/1 348 quotes two instances of q⁄tam mu‰‰ûm, literally “to make the hand reach out,” which it renders as to “be generous, show largesse.” A positive meaning is not suitable for the present passage. Compare the passive II/2 muta‰‰ûm, which in Old Assyrian has the sense “to be made to intervene.” One who “makes his hand intervene” is someone who interferes in matters not his own. 28. Less likely [na-w]e-e. The expression Íamê sak⁄pum “to thrust back the skies” is paraphrased in ll. 47–48 with a more explicit image. 35. The dative suffix is awkward: ipˇur›nikka is expected. 47–48. The bub⁄tum of the Wagon-constellation (Ursa Major) are also known from a Standard Babylonian fortune-tellers’ manual, where in two incantation-prayers to this constellation they are symbolically matched with the “Daughters of Anu of the pure heavens” (STT 73: 62 and 72 // UET VII 118: 9 and 18): b[u]-ba-tu-ki m⁄rat(dumu.munus) da-nim Íá Íamê(an)e ell›ti(kù)meÍ (ed. Reiner 1960: 33, transl. Reiner 1995: 71). In his study of road vehicles, Armas Salonen identified this part of a vehicle as its axle (Salonen 1951: 100). The A Literary Letter of Sîn-muballiˇ attestations he collected show that bub›tu is a long piece of wood. Failure of a chariot’s left or right b. was a cause of dangerous accidents, according to omen compendia, and could cause it to overturn. Miguel Civil objected to Salonen’s identification because “there are two gáb-íl [= bub›tu] in a vehicle, one on each side,” and proposed instead that the term designated part of the frame, i.e. its “lateral beams” (Civil 1968: 10). His objection can be countered by proposing that when omen texts refer to the b. “of the left/right” breaking, they mean the left or right end of a single pole. Failure will occur at the points under greatest stress, which will be between the wheels and the bearings that hold the axle in the chariot’s frame, i.e. toward the axle’s two ends. The Wagon-constellation has more than one bub›tum because it was 117 envisaged as a cart with four wheels. In the lexical text Urra V 53–54 it may be significant that giÍkab.íl gigir = bub›tu is paired with giÍumbin gigir = magarru “wheel,” the part most obviously associated with an axle. The present text adds to the discussion the fact that the bub⁄tum of a chariot can be the objects of lâˇum “to shackle (with a wooden clamp),” proving that the bub›tum was a moving part. The reference is probably to a technique of braking and lends further support to the translation “axle.” 60. The presence of a case-ending on muÍt⁄lum makes it unlikely that this line contains a compound personal name. Other names compounded with this adjective utilize a predicative construction, i.e. *R‹m-SînmuÍt⁄l. COMMENTARY Transcription of ll. 8–63 in a manner that Literary style distinguishes between a plainer style of discourse The high literary ambitions of the letter’s composer can be clearly observed in its style. The (roman) and versified passages (italic) allows a composition makes much use of balanced struc- clearer view of the prosody. The versified pastures typical of Babylonian poetry and can be sages are here presented as if poetry, divided into categorized as a highly elevated prose. couplets, lines and smaller poetic units. R‹m-Sîn b¤l‹ | ⁄lam Malgiam || n⁄rÍu | ul ískir, ugar‹Íu | mê ul uÍ⁄bil || giÍimmarÍu | ul íkkis. w⁄‰i | abull‹Íu || ¤m uÍamÍû | ib‹’at, u niÍ› | nawêÍu || aburr‹ | ráb‰⁄. sal‹m b¤l‹ya sal‹mÍu. ⁄lum Malgium itti Ellil m⁄likim rabîm u Ninurta aÍar¤d Ekur arnam ‹Íu. kussi Íarr›t‹Íu | núÍÍ› || u palûÍu | násÓ›. q⁄tka | tuma‰‰‹ma || Íamê | táskip, u Yam›tb⁄lam | aÓam rabi’am | tégri. aw⁄t t¤puÍu | ana warki’⁄t ›mim | ul tebélli, Sîn u fiamaÍ | b¤l Yam›tb⁄lim || ina aw⁄tim | ay ipˇur›níkkum. iÍtu ›mim | Ía ana Yam›tb⁄lam | tugállilu, ina mayy⁄l‹ka | l⁄ ‰al⁄lum | Íakíkkum; 118 Babylonian Literary Texts ina kussi | waÍb⁄t || gitallutum | Íakíkkum, ina paÍÍ›r | takkalu || q›l⁄tum | Íakn⁄kum. ina ‰ibitti | ram⁄n‹ka | waÍb⁄t. q⁄tka tuma‰‰‹ma ana ereq Íamê bub⁄tim talâˇ. erinnam | taÓtapárma || Íarr‹ | tásÓur, Yam›tb⁄lam | aÓam rabi’am | tégri. Íumma Elamtam Uruk u Isin uͤzib u kâti l›Í¤zibka. makk›r | ¤kallim | l⁄ tasáppaÓ, arnam | ana arnim | l⁄ tú‰‰ab. adi R‹m-Sîn | muÍt⁄lum | iÍapparákkum, ⁄lam | ana b¤l‹Íu | ú‰ur. While the word-order throughout is that of prose, with all verbs in final position, in some passages there are clear patterns of parallelism and other versification. Such passages fall into poetic units by the coincidence of rhythm, sense, and structure. For example, the first passage of verse (R‹m-Sîn . . . rab‰⁄) consists of four lines of four rhythmic units (“beats”), each divided in two by a caesura and ending with a stressed penultimate syllable. The four lines form two couplets, each with its own topic. Syntactical pauses occur at the end of each line of poetry; the couplet-final pause is longer than the line-final pause and corresponds to a period. This is standard Old Babylonian verse-making. Versification explains features of the letter that appear unusual, for example the literary epithet muÍt⁄lum given to R‹m-Sîn at the end of the letter. Without it, the sentence will not form a regular couplet. The topic of prose v. poetry is not one that has greatly occupied Assyriologists. In his study of the genre of fictional autobiography Tremper Longman III asserted that such compositions were couched in prose because prose conveyed authenticity, while poetry was eschewed because it suggested invention (1991: 210). The issue needs a finer nuance, not least because some of the fictional autobiographies are highly versified, if not actually poetry, but also because some poetry was, to the Babylonians, divine in origin, authenticated by the highest cosmic authority and received as revealed truth. The formal, rather than functional, distinction between prose and poetry has been given scant attention in Assyriology, though it is implicit in any formal description of Babylonian poetic style: prose is what is not poetry. In her exposition of Babylonian poetry Joan Goodnick Westenholz quoted Aristotle’s thoughts on how poetry differs from prose and identified poetic language accordingly (1997: 24–29). The Aristotelian definition of poetry as unfamiliar language that deviates from common modes of speech has been a fundamental starting point in any such endeavor, and is everywhere apparent in the collection of essays edited as Mesopotamian Poetic Language (Vogelzang and Vanstiphout 1996). One essay, by Piotr Michalowski, brings a more theoretically informed approach (1996). Rejecting the tendency of Assyriologists to seek a formal metrical system in Akkadian poetry as “perversely eurocentric,” founded as it is on a “gymnasium acquaintance with Greek and Latin poetry,” Michalowski advocates a break with Aristotle. The classical view that discourse is either poetry or prose is not helpful to us, for it disallows the possibility of a composition in which prose and poetry merge. That possibility was realized very effectively in several more ancient literatures, as demonstrated by a volume on Verse in Ancient Near Eastern Prose, edited by A Literary Letter of Sîn-muballiˇ Johannes de Moor and Wilfred Watson (1993). Unfortunately, this book elicited only two contributions on Akkadian, both concerned with Akkadian in the West. Manfried Dietrich analyzed the Amarna text of the poem of Adapa as a combination of verse and prose. Richard Hess found rhetorical writing in letters of the same period that used poetic devices to elevate the prose, though nothing like the lyrical language of the letter published here. De Moor and Watson’s introduction indicates many instances of compositions in which prose and verse “coexist,” and in different measure, but does not question the adequacy of the terms “verse” and “prose” in the ancient Near Eastern literatures. Instead their title, Verse in Prose, coins a functional compromise that will serve a pragmatic purpose effectively. In considering the difference between poetry and prose in ancient Mesopotamia, Michalowski rightly asserts that “most specialists would agree that the limited examples of narrative prose are highly structured and exhibit many of the same qualities as do the more obviously poetic texts” (1996: 146). For him, “it makes little sense to separate poetry from prose. Rather one should proceed with micro-analyses of individual texts regardless of prose or poetic profile.” I share his concern for individual texts and his scorn for barren categorizing, but I also think it important to stress the fact that ancient Near Eastern writing often does not easily surrender to the exclusive division between poetry and prose that we try to impose on it. This can best be done by seeking out examples of “verse in prose” and exposing them as literature. Anyone who has read such texts as Sennacherib’s eighth campaign and Nabonidus’s oeuvre as pieces of literary creativity, rather than as historical propaganda, will know that the art of writing “verse in prose” was highly developed in first-millennium Mesopotamia. T. J. Meek long ago commented on the “semipoetic style” of the prologue and epilogue of °ammurapi’s laws (1969: 164; see further Korpel 1993: 146–50). Indeed, the more extended royal inscriptions tend toward a highly literary style throughout the history of Akkadian, espe- 119 cially in Babylonia. The present composition gives us another Old Babylonian example of “verse in prose,” again from a royal court, and adds to the material extant for those who wish to tackle a neglected topic in the study of ancient Mesopotamian literature. The Historical Context As an historical document the letter will certainly shed new and welcome light on an intriguing period of history (for which see already Van De Mieroop 1993, Charpin 2004). It is further evidence of the important role Sînmuballiˇ played in the administration of his brother’s kingdom (see Charpin 2004: 253). A full historical commentary is left to historians of the period, but a few preliminary observations can be made. The letter mentions that Larsa has “spared” Elam, Uruk, and Isin (l. 53). The idea that Elam was a victim of Larsa does not fit what is known of R‹m-Sîn’s reign. Larsa seems to have been only a nominal ally of Babylon in the defeat of Elam in 1764. Presumably some earlier victory is meant, perhaps the defeat of a grand alliance of Uruk, Kazallu, and Isin supported by an Elamite army and reported in the fifth yearname of Sîn-iq‹Íam (1837). The city of Uruk fell to Larsa in R‹m-Sîn’s twentieth year (1803). Both the subsequent year-name and a Sumerian literary letter mention that its population was spared (Hallo 1991). R‹m-Sîn’s thirtieth yearname records that Isin’s people were likewise pardoned in the final capture of that city nine years later. The letter indicates that Malgium had formerly enjoyed peace under the benevolent protection of Larsa but then lost its independence. The occasion was surely when it fell to °ammurapi of Babylon in his ninth year (1784). The incident that gave rise to Sîn-muballiˇ’s letter evidently took place in the two decades between this event and R‹m-Sîn’s own defeat by °ammurapi in 1763. As the power of Larsa waned, the kinglets under Larsa’s sway began to act independently, one of them unacceptably so. Sîn-muballiˇ’s authority lay in his responsibility for the defense of MaÍkan-Í⁄pir, the chief town of Yamutbal, where he resided during this period as the king’s viceroy. This situation is 120 Babylonian Literary Texts similar to that documented in the great barrel of Sîn-iddinam, MS 5000, which shows that a dual kingship already operated in the mid-nineteenth century, with Sîn-iddinam defending the north, i.e. Yamutbal, while his father N›rAdad reigned in Larsa (edition forthcoming from Konrad Volk). It says much for the weakness of R‹m-Sîn’s state at the time of the present letter that his brother can only rebuke the wrongdoer and does not send forces to depose him. In this way the letter is reminiscent of those Sumerian literary letters in which IbbiSuen, the last king of the third dynasty of Ur, witnesses the erosion of his power and dominions as an underling carves out an independent power-base unhindered (Michalowski 1980: 54–55). A Son’s Request No. 16 3208 This is a small squarish tablet with rounded corners inscribed with a short piece of Akkadian prose. The text reads like a letter but there is no formula of address, so sender and addressee are unknown. The shape of the tablet closely meets the physical criteria established by J. J. Finkelstein for the category of late Old Babylonian tablet known as ze’pum (1972: 2–6; also Walker 1976: iv; Sallaberger 1999: 26). Finkelstein noted that such tablets date no earlier than the reign of Ammiditana, and identified a distinct group of them that bear messages as “epistolary.” In Finkelstein’s volume of north Babylonian tablets the epistolary ze’pum rarely cites sender and addressee, sometimes begins instead with a greetings formula, but more often launches straight into the message. D. O. Edzard collected examples of unaddressed Old Babylonian letters among the edited corpus, and organized them according to how they begin (1995: 142); a good many start off with a greetings formula and, as Edzard implied, are presumably ze’pum tablets. The present text is a further example of an epistolary ze’pum that begins with a greetings formula. But there are grounds for doubting that the tablet is a genuine archival document. The present tablet arrived in the collection alongside late Old Babylonian texts from D›rAbieÍuÓ, and in script resembles them. The gods invoked in the opening blessings are those of Nippur, which makes it likely that the composition originated among the scholarly fami- Pl. 48 lies of D›r-AbieÍuÓ who were descended from refugees from Nippur (see further the commentary on Text No. 17). Its provenance may well have been D›r-AbieÍuÓ itself, from which derive several seventeenth-century archives. Probably it was, like Text No. 17, a text that functioned as a literary model. And, as with Text No. 17, it is difficult to be sure if the letter is a fiction or taken from real life. The message’s exemplary politeness perhaps points toward a fictional origin, for it both contrasts with the businesslike tone of the typical epistolary ze’pum and is fully compatible with an origin and function in scribal training, where deference to one’s elders was extolled as a great virtue. The composition consists of three short sentences in which a son calls on the gods to look after his father (ll. 1–4), asks him for a gift of wool, evidently to provide a new garment (5–9), and promises that those who see him in his new clothes will bless his father too (10–15). The ductus is Old Babylonian; both the complete absence of word-final mimation and the ligature of i-na indicate a date late in the period. The absence of ruled lines may be diagnostic of the same. While the handwriting is accomplished, it is very large and there are small mistakes in the execution of the text: a sup. ras. (l. 4), di for ki (5), incomplete na (7, 14). These features suggest that the tablet was written by a relative novice, a further indication of the text’s use in scribal training. TRANSLITERATION obv. 1 2 3 d en-líl dnin-líl dnin-u[rta] ù dnuska ba-ni-ka i-na Íu-ul-mi ù ba-la-ˇi 121 Babylonian Literary Texts 122 a-bi ka-ta li-it-ta-ar-ru-ú ki!-ma a-wi-le-e aÓ-Ói-ka a-bi at-ta 1 ma-na! Íip⁄ta(síg) na-ar-ri-ra-am-ma 4 5 6 7 8 rev. lu-ú ú-sa-at-ka ù a-me-ru-ia ma-Óar den-líl dnin-líl d nin-urta ù dnuska ba-ni-ka a-na! a-bi-ia ka-ta li-ik-ru-bu 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 TRANSLATION May Enlil, Ninlil, Ninurta and Nuska who created you 4 guide you, my father, 3 in well-being and good health! 5 Like their excellencies 6 your brothers, 7 O my father, 8 come to my aid 7 with one mina of wool, and 9 let that be your gift of support for me! 10 Then may those who see me 15 bless 14 you, my father, 11 before Enlil, Ninlil, 12 Ninurta and Nuska 13 who created you! 1 2 The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk No. 17 3209/1–3 Three very similar tablets, rebuilt from many fragments, are all copies of a text of nearly a hundred lines, arranged in four columns, that reads as a juridical document. The tablets are late Old Babylonian at the earliest, for the text is dated in the reign of Samsuditana, the last king of the first dynasty of Babylon. As copies they could equally derive from the immediately post-Old Babylonian era. The geographical context of the document is the central Babylonian city of Nippur, where the court case is heard, and D›r-AbieÍuÓ (Fort AbieÍuÓ), apparently the plaintiff’s place of residence. D›rAbieÍuÓ was a military fort on the Tigris near Nippur, built by Samsuditana’s great-grandfather, king AbieÍuÓ. It was located at the river’s confluence with the waterway °ammurapinuÓuÍ-niÍ‹, above the dam that AbieÍuÓ constructed on the Tigris in his war against the Sealand, and no doubt provided military security for this strategically important area. While Nippur has conspicuously failed to produce many tablets of late Old Babylonian date, D›rAbieÍuÓ is also the geographical context of at least two unpublished archives of late Old Babylonian tablets, some now housed at Cornell University and others in the Schøyen Collection (under the number MS 3218; see the commentary below, on the document’s historical and geographical context). Accordingly it is probable that the site of this town was the tablets’ original provenance. Pls. 49–60 assembly of Nippur’s eventual ruling in his favor. This ruling occasioned the text to be drawn up as the official record of the court’s proceedings and decision. To summarize the content: Gimil-Marduk brings his case before the vizier Aw‹l-Nabi’um, stating his name and ancestry and alleging that a relative, Apil-il‹Íu, has been acting unlawfully against him (1–5). He asks that Aw‹l-Nabi’um summon the high officials of Nippur so that they can resolve the issue (6–12). These officials constitute the assembly of Nippur, or preside over it, for when Aw‹l-Nabi’um summons them, Gimil-Marduk restates his claim “in the assembly” (13–20). His allegation comprises a detailed history of his treatment at the hands of his relative Lu-Inanna: in the year Ammiditana 16 (1668 BC in the conventional chronology) he had gone to Nippur to present a sacrificial lamb to his god, but Lu-Inanna had intercepted him, beaten him, and thrown him out of the temple, an event that became public knowledge in Nippur (21–30). In this passage GimilMarduk specifically describes Lu-Inanna as enjoying the rights of a prebend formerly belonging to Gimil-Marduk’s grandfather, implying that this was also a wrong against him. Gimil-Marduk then relates how twentythree years later, in Ammi‰aduqa 2 (1645 BC), he complained about his treatment to a distinguished visitor to Nippur, the courtier Nabi’um-n⁄‰ir, but was again beaten and again reported the crime, once more to no avail (31– 39). After a further sixteen years or more, in Ammi‰aduqa 17b (1629 BC or soon thereafter), he broached the matter again when Sîn-iq‹Íam, another high-ranking royal official, visited Fort AbieÍuÓ. Sîn-iq‹Íam ordered an enquiry by the assembly of Nippur, and the assembly brought Lu-Inanna before the official and confirmed Content The text inscribed on these three tablets is ostensibly a court document that records the final settlement of one Gimil-Marduk’s search for justice. It includes the history of his unsuccessful claims over nearly five decades, culminating in his petition to a high official and the 123 124 Babylonian Literary Texts Gimil-Marduk’s allegations that his relative had acted violently and had prevented Gimil-Marduk from inheriting his grandfather’s office (40– 54). The royal official consequently set in motion the legal procedure to confirm GimilMarduk’s inheritance, which involved drawing up a sealed document and receiving the king’s written assent, but then left (55–59). Unfortunately some further requirement involving a tablet of contract was not met—probably it was not endorsed by sealing—and the matter did not reach a satisfactory conclusion (60). The line that adds this crucial detail was omitted from two of our three manuscripts; without it Gimil-Marduk’s failure to obtain justice on the occasion of Sîn-iq‹Íam’s visit to Fort AbieÍuÓ is left without explanation. Having reached the end of his account, Gimil-Marduk concludes by asking the vizier Aw‹l-Nabi’um to heed the opinion of Nippur and resolve the case (61–63). The vizier summons the assembly, which confirms GimilMarduk’s identity, his precedence over LuInanna, and his entitlement to his grandfather’s office (64–70). Witnesses corroborate GimilMarduk’s identity and status as his grandfather’s heir (71–73). Gimil-Marduk then lifts before the assembly the divine symbol of the god Ninurta, implying that he swears by it, and the witnesses repeat their testimony in its presence (73–80). Their statement is then endorsed as the case’s resolution by the divine and earthly authorities, Ninurta and the assembly of Nippur (81). There follow the names of the officers of the assembly and the scribe who drew up the text (82–94). The date is appended, month, day and year (95–96), from which we learn that Gimil-Marduk finally recovered his inheritance, thanks to the vizier Aw‹l-Nabi’um’s intervention, in Samsuditana 5 (1621 BC), no less than forty-seven years after the story began. The Status of the Text The three copies of the document, hereafter referred to as MSS A (MS 3209/1), B (MS 3209/2), and C (MS 3209/3), do not quite preserve a uniform text. There are a good number of variants and some outright errors. Spelling variation and minor variants in, e.g. the use of the enclitic particle, can be observed in the synoptic transliterations. Variants in substance attract comment here. At the outset, GimilMarduk’s patronymy is given as m⁄r Utlatum m⁄r Öˇirum apil(ibila) Lu-Dumununna “son of Utlatum, son of ¡ˇirum, heir of Lu-Dumununna” (1). Further on this unusual formula is expanded, in emphasis of Gimil-Marduk’s precedence over Lu-Inanna, to m⁄r Utlatum m⁄r Öˇirum aÓum rabûm (C om.) apil (C aplum Ía) Lu-Dumununna “son of U., son of ¡., senior ‘brother’, heir of L.” (72). Elsewhere he is m⁄r Utlatum m⁄r Öˇirum m⁄r-m⁄r(dumu.dumu) (BC add Ía) LuDumununna “son of U., son of ¡., grandson of L.” (18), where dumu.dumu is probably an error for ibila (DUMU.ÚS). Other inconsistencies in genealogy are present. ¡ˇirum is once called ab‹ya “my father” (26 C) instead of abi ab‹ya “my grandfather,” and twice aÓi ab‹ya “brother of my father” (25 AC, 48 C). Gimil-Marduk usually identifies his oppressor Lu-Inanna as aÓi Öˇirum “brother of ¡.” (25 AC, 48 C), but otherwise simply as aÓi abi ab‹ya “my grandfather’s brother” (48 A) or, more particularly, as aÓum ‰eÓrum Ía Öˇirum abi ab‹ya “my grandfather ¡.’s younger brother” (51). Lu-Inanna is thus ostensibly Gimil-Marduk’s great-uncle. In his petition to Aw‹lNabi’um, however, Gimil-Marduk identifies his great-uncle and oppressor as Apil-il‹Íu, son of Lu-Dumununna (5). Given the confusion in genealogical epithets and the predominance of Lu-Inanna in the role of the wicked relative, it seems likely that Apil-il‹Íu was Lu-Inanna’s heir, who after the latter’s death held on to Gimil-Marduk’s inheritance as if it were his own. It is just feasible that Apil-il‹Íu was LuInanna’s brother as well as heir, and thus that he is correctly identified as Gimil-Marduk’s greatuncle, but according to the tale’s chronology he would surely have been improbably ancient by the time the case was resolved in Gimil-Marduk’s favor. The story is more plausible if Apilil‹Íu was actually the great-uncle’s son, i.e. Gimil-Marduk’s first cousin once removed and of the same generation as Utlatum, Gimil-Marduk’s father. Other variants cause fewer problems. In ll. 5 and 18 MS B probably adds the title paÍ‹Íum, The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk written lúgudu4, to Lu-Dumununna’s name, whereas the other manuscripts lack it, but damage precludes certainty on this point. In the generic list of officials one manuscript (A) writes gudu4meÍ “paÍ‹Íum-priests” where the other two (BC) write more specifically gudu4.dnin.lílmeÍ gudu4.dnin.urtameÍ “paÍ‹Íum-priests of Ninlil and Ninurta” (6–8, 14–16, 65–66, 75–77). In l. 11 precative lirÍi (A) alternates with imperative ÍurÍi (BC). In the repetition all manuscripts have ÍurÍi (62). The second date is given in more abbreviated form in MS A (and probably B) than in C (31). The elegant syntax of MS A in writing [ana b‹t] Ninkarnunna il‹ya er¤bim [immer ni]qî naqê ul iddinam (27–28) contrasts with MSS BC’s more clumsy [an]a b‹t Ninkarnunna il‹ya ana er¤bimma immer niq[î] (ana) [na]qê. In l. 29 MS A has the old-fashioned form uÍt⁄‰i’anni where MS C has uÍt⁄‰ânni, a modernization. In ll. 38–39 MS A has a phrase u ina em›qim dars⁄ku that MS C omits, whereas C writes ulammid› (pl.) where A has the singular. MS C also leaves out two whole clauses from the account of Sîn-iq‹Íam’s convening of the assembly (ll. 46–47) and omits the ancestral epithet of ¡ˇirum in l. 51 and the verb iqb‹ma in l. 57. Both MS A and MS C omit l. 60, although it seems to report a crucial development in Gimil-Marduk’s saga of failure. MS C omits Aw‹l-Nabi’um’s professional title in l. 63, whereas MS A retains it, while in l. 74 A refers to him by honorific and title (aw‹lim Íukkallim) where B uses name and [title] and C honorific, name, and title. At the beginning of l. 73 MS A is broken but seems to have contained some phrase other than MSS BC’s ina ›m‹Í›ma. In the list of officers of the assembly before whom Gimil-Marduk grasped Ninurta’s symbol, MS A has Tikl⁄-ana-Marduk (76) differently placed from MSS BC (75). In the tally of officials set out in two sub-columns (a and b) on col. iv (82–96) MS A differs from MSS BC in the number and order of the officials. Damage to MS A prevents full knowledge of the differences, but it is immediately apparent that it omits Ibni-Amurrum at the beginning (82a) and that the manuscripts disagree about at least two names further on in the list: Iddin-Ninurta (A) and Iddin-Ninlil (BC) are variants in l. 82b and, more seriously, Ninlil-mu[ . . . ] (A) and Utul- 125 IÍtar (B) in l. 95b. MSS BC largely agree, but in ll. 91a and 91b MS B omits two names that are present in MSS A and C. Small errors also occur. Both preserved manuscripts (BC) write an⁄ku at the end of the first line, in false anticipation of his self-identification in the following passage of direct speech (4). The word purussâ, when spelled without mimation, is written without plene spelling of the last vowel (11 C, 62 BC). MS A is guilty of lipography in ll. 30 and 76, MS B in l. 8. In l. 58 MS C writes genitive aw‹lim for nominative. At the boundary of ll. 77–78 MS B (probably also C) omits the verb iÍÍi’a. In the pattern of both variants and errors, it can be seen that MSS B and C are often (but not always) in agreement against MS A. The existence of three manuscripts of this juridical document and the repertoire of mistakes and variant readings displayed in them indicate that these tablets are copies. In this respect it is significant that none of the tablets bears the seal impressions expected on an original juridical document. The copying of such documents is a well-known practice of the Babylonian scribal tradition, by means of which scribal apprentices learned the conventional format, language, and style of juridical documents. Selected exemplars formed a genre of the scribal tradition and were sometimes copied in groups on collective tablets. They are now usually categorized as “model court documents.” The place of the present composition in this genre will be discussed in the commentary below. For the moment it is enough to propose that, as a model court document extant in multiple copies, the composition became part of scribal literature for a while at the end of the Old Babylonian period. This justifies its inclusion in the present volume as a piece of Babylonian literature in the wider sense; the commentary will explore the composition’s nature further, asking whether it derives from real life or is a fiction. Aspects of Language and Writing The tablets are notable for their lack of ruled lines. Despite their late date, the three witnesses to the text all display good Old Babylonian writing practices. Mimation is seldom omitted: Babylonian Literary Texts 126 pu-ru-us-sà (11 C), pu-úÓ-ri (19 ABC), ma-aÓ-rii-ma (34 A), e-de-Íu(-ma) (36–37 AC), pu-úÓ-ri (54 AC), Íar-ri (58 ABC), pu-ru-us-sà (62 BC), iÍÍi-a (78 A), in personal names i-qí-Ía (41, 43, 44 C), Íu-mu (88 C), ta-ri-bu (95–96 BC); but it is once written in error: ti-ik-la-{am} (75 B) for tikl⁄. Geminated consonants are normally written plene but note: ú-qe4-ri-bu-nim-ma (17 A), sílá-kum (21 A) // sí-lá-ku (C) in a year-name, ika-lu (26 C), ú-la-mi-du (39 C). Vowels on finally weak verbs can be written plene: i-de-e (30 C); note also the plene spelling of a short vowel in ilma-a-ad (36 A). Spelling is mixed. The treatment of /sV/ is inconsistent, using signs from the SV range and the ZV range: sa in da-ar-sa-ku (38 A), da-ar-saan-ni-ma (52 AC), ri-ik-sa-tim (56 ABC), ri-ik-sa- ti-Íu (60 B), pu-ru-us-sa? (62 A) and si in is-si (45 AC) v. sà in pu-ru-us-sà-(am) (11 AC), pu-ru-ussà (62 BC) and sú in Íi-bu-us-sú-nu (71 BC, 78 ABC). The sign bi is used for the syllable /pi/: na-pí-iÍ-ti-ia (37 AC), dub-pí (58 ABC, 60 B). There is one usage of qe4 for /qe/: ú-qe4-ri-bunim-ma (17 A), which is otherwise written with qé: ú-qé-er-ri-bu-nim-ma (17 BC), ú-qé-er-ri-bunim (49 A). This may be a case of updating. A clearer case of modernization is uÍ-ta-‰í-a-an-ni (29 A), in MS C rendered with contraction, uÍta-‰a-a-an-ni. In the following transcription and transliteration the line-numbering follows MS A up to l. 81, except that a line omitted in that manuscript is included (60). From l. 82 the numeration follows MSS BC. TRANSCRIPTION Gimil-Marduk m⁄r Utlatum m⁄r Öˇirum apil Lu-Dumununna 2 maÓar aw‹lim Aw‹l-Nabi’um Íukkallim 3 k‹’am idbub umma Í›ma 4 [m⁄r Utl]atum m⁄r Öˇirum m⁄r (B m⁄r-m⁄ri Ía) Lu-Dumununna an⁄ku 5 Apil-il‹Íu m⁄r LuDumununna aÓi abi ab‹ya Óablanni 6 Íatammi Íarrim Íandabakki Ellil 7 Íandabakk‹ n¤Íakk‹ paÍ‹Íi (BC paÍ‹Í‹ Mulliltim paÍ‹Í‹ Ninurta) 8 u Í›t têr¤tim Ía Nippuru 9 ana maÓr‹ka liqerrib›nimma 10 dab⁄b‹ l‹mur›ma Íapt‹Íunu Íim¤ma 11 d‹n‹ purussâm lirÍi (BC ÍurÍi) 12 ann‹tam iqbi (BC iqb‹ma) 13 aw‹lum Aw‹l-Nabi’um Íukkallum 14 iÍpur Íatammi Íarrim Íandabakki Ellil 15 Íandabakk‹ n¤Íakk‹ paÍ‹Íi (BC paÍ‹Í‹ Mulliltim paÍ‹Í‹ Ninurta) 16 u Í›t têr¤tim Ía Nippuru 17 ana maÓr‹Íu uqerrib›nimma 18 Gimil-Marduk m⁄r Utlatum m⁄r Öˇirum m⁄r-m⁄r (BC m⁄rm⁄ri Ía) Lu-Dumununna (B adds lú[paÍ‹Íim?]) 19 ina puÓri Ía Nippuru 20 k‹’am idbub umma Í›ma 21 ina Íanat Ammiditana Íarrum D›r-Ammiditana ina kiÍ⁄d Silakkum 22 ana Nippuru allik 23 immer niqîm ana Ninkarnunna il‹ya 24 naÍi’⁄k›ma 25 Lu-Inanna aÓi Öˇirum aÓi ab‹ya 26 Ía paÍ‹Í›t Mulliltim zitti Öˇirum abi ab‹ya ikkalu 27 [an]a b‹t Ninkarnunna il‹ya er¤bim (BC ana er¤bimma) 28 immer niqîm naqê (B ana [naqê]) ul iddinam 29 id›kann‹ma ana b⁄bim uÍt⁄‰i’anni (C uÍt⁄‰ânni) 30 dab⁄bam Íu’⁄ti ⁄lum Nippuru ‹de 31 ina Íanat Ammi‰aduqa Íarrum r¤’ûm waÍrum 32 in›ma Nabi’um-n⁄‰ir gall⁄bum 33 itti niqîm ana Nippuru illikam 34 adbub k‹ma maÓrîmma 35 id›kanni Íalamt‹ iddi 36 ⁄lum Nippuru ilmad 37 ed¤Íumma ana napiÍt‹ya aplaÓma 38 k‹ma Óabl⁄ku (A adds u ina em›qim dars⁄ku) 39 ⁄lam Nippuru ulammidma (C ulammid›) aqt›l 40 ina Íanat Ammi‰aduqa Íarrum ‰alamÍu gitm⁄lam 41 in›ma aw‹lum Sîn-iq‹Íam abi ‰⁄bim 42 ana D›r-AbieÍuÓ Ía zibbat °ammurapi-nuÓuÍ-niÍ‹ illikam 43 maÓar aw‹lim Sîn-iq‹Íam abi ‰⁄bim adbub 44 aw‹lum Sîn-iq‹Íam abi ‰⁄bim 45 puÓram Ía Nippuru issi 46 awât‹ya am⁄ram iqb‹Íun›Íim 47 puÓrum Ía Nippuru iÍpur 48 Lu-Inanna aÓi abi ab‹ya (C aÓi Öˇirum aÓi ab‹ya) ana maÓar aw‹lim abi ‰⁄bim 49 u puÓri Ía Nippuru uqerrib›nim 50 dab⁄bni ‹mur›ma 51 k‹ma Lu-Inanna aÓum ‰eÓrum Ía Öˇirum abi ab‹ya 52 ina em›qim darsann‹ma 53 paÍ‹Í›t Mulliltim ikkalu 54 ina puÓri Ía Nippuru ukinn›ma 55 ˇ¤mÍunu ana aw‹lim abi ‰⁄bim 56 uterr›ma kan‹k riks⁄tim 57 Íuknukam iqb‹ma 58 ˇuppi Íarrim illikamma 59 aw‹lum abi ‰⁄bim uÍt¤Íer 60 ˇuppi riks⁄t‹Íu ul [uÍaknik›] (AC om.) 61 inanna Íapt‹ ⁄lim Nippuru Íime 62 d‹n‹ purussâ ÍurÍi 1 The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk 127 63 ann‹tam iqbi 64 aw‹lum Aw‹l-Nabi’um Íukkallum iÍpur 65 Íatammi Íarrim Íandabakki Ellil Íandabakk‹ 66 n¤Íakk‹ paÍ‹Í‹ (BC add Mulliltim paÍ‹Í‹ Ninurta) u Í›t têr¤tim Ía Nippuru 67 uÍz‹zma Íapt‹Íunu iÍm¤ma 68 k‹ma Gimil-Marduk m⁄r Utlatum m⁄r Öˇirum 69 aÓum rabûm Ía Lu-Inanna u paÍ‹Í›t Mulliltim 70 Ía leqêÍu iqbû dab⁄bÍunu ‹mur›ma 71 Í‹b› Í‹b›ssunu k‹ma Gimil-Marduk 72 m⁄r Utlatum m⁄r Öˇirum aÓum rabûm (C om.) apil (C aplum Ía) Lu-Dumununna ‹dû (BC om.) 73 iqbû ina ›m‹Í›ma (A differs) Gimil-Marduk Í› 74 kakkam Ía Ninurta ana maÓar aw‹lim Aw‹l-Nabi’um Íukkallim 75 Ibni-UraÍ muwerrim Íatammi Íarrim 76 Íandabakki Ellil Íandabakk‹ Tikl⁄-ana-Marduk gall⁄bim 77 n¤Íakk‹ paÍ‹Í‹ (BC add Mulliltim paÍ‹Í‹ Ninurta) u Í›t têr¤tim Ía Nippuru 78 iÍÍi’a Í‹b› Í‹b›ssunu maÓar Ninurta il ⁄l‹Íunu 79 k‹ma Gimil-Marduk m⁄r Utlatum m⁄r Öˇirum 80 u paÍ‹Í›t Mulliltim Ía leqêÍu iqbû 81 ditilla maÓar Ninurta aw⁄t puÓri Ía Nippuru 82a Ibni-Amurru Íatammi Íarrim 83a Nabi’um-n⁄‰ir Íatammi Íarrim 84a Utu-mupadda Íandabakki Ellil 85a Girini-isag dayy⁄num 86a Sîn-iddinam Íatammum 87a UtumanÍum sir⁄Íûm 88a fiumum-libÍi sir⁄Íûm 89a Nabi-Ellil sir⁄Íûm 90a Ellil-b¤l-il‹ paÍ‹Í Mulliltim 91a Ur-Sadarnunna(!) sir⁄Íê Ellil 92a Ur-ukkingalla paÍ‹Í Mulliltim 82b Iddin-Ninurta (BC Iddin-Mulliltum) Íandabakkum 83b Utu-lu-ti Íandabakkum 84b Iddin-Ninurta n¤Íakkum 85b Ellil-manÍum n¤Íakkum 86b Ibbi-Ellil n¤Íakkum 87b Lu-UraÍ n¤Íakkum 88b Ninurta-muÍallim n¤Íakkum 89b Nanna-meÍa n¤Íakkum 90b Ellil-muballiˇ n¤Íakkum 91b KA-Ninurta n¤Íakkum 92b Ku-Ninimma n¤Íakkum 93b Imgur-Ninurta paÍ‹Í Ninurta 94b Aw‹l-Sîn paÍ‹Í Ninurta 95b Utul-IÍtar paÍ‹Í Ninurta (A Mulliltu-mu[ . . . ]) 96b Tar‹bum ˇupÍarrum 97 fiab⁄ˇum ud.10.kam 98 Íanat Samsuditana Íarrum ina em›q‹n rabâtim Ía fiamaÍ u Mar›duk raggam u ‰¤nam(!) . . . kar⁄Í nakr‹Íu uͤ‰û TRANSLATION Gimil-Marduk, son of Utlatum, son of ¡ˇirum, heir of Lu-Dumununna, 3 complained thus 2 before His Excellency the vizier Aw‹l-Nabi’um, 3 saying as follows: 4 “I am [the son of] Utlatum, son of ¡ˇirum, son (B: grandson) of Lu-Dumununna. 5 My grandfather’s brother, Apil-il‹Íu, son of Lu-Dumununna, is wronging me. 9 Let them bring before you 6 the clerk of the king, the dean of Enlil, 7 the deans, the n¤Íakkum-priests, the paÍ‹Íum-priests (BC: the paÍ‹Íum-priests of Ninlil and the paÍ‹Íum-priests of Ninurta) 8 and the office-holders of Nippur, 10 so they can examine my complaint. Listen to what they say and 11 let my case obtain resolution (BC: bring resolution to my case).” 12 This is what he said. 13 His Excellency the vizier Aw‹l-Nabi’um 14 sent instructions. 17 They brought before him 14 the clerk of the king, the dean of Enlil, 15 the deans, the n¤Íakkum-priests, the paÍ‹Íum-priests (BC: the paÍ‹Íum-priests of Ninlil and the paÍ‹Íum-priests of Ninurta) 16 and the officeholders of Nippur, and 18 Gimil-Marduk, son of Utlatum, son of ¡ˇirum, grandson of Lu-Dumununna the [paÍ‹Íum-priest], 20 complained thus 19 in the assembly of Nippur, 20 saying as follows: 21 “In the year King Ammiditana [Built] Fort Ammiditana on the Bank of the Silakkum Canal (= Ammiditana 16) 22 I went to Nippur. 24 I was carrying 23 a sacrificial lamb for my god, Ninkarnunna, but 25 Lu-Inanna, brother of ¡ˇirum, my father’s father(! tablets: brother), 26 who had the usufruct of the prebend of paÍ‹Íum-priest of Ninlil, the share of ¡ˇirum, my father’s father, 28 did not allow me 27 to enter the chapel of my god, Ninkarnunna, and 28 sacrifice the sacrificial lamb. 29 He beat me and drove me out through the gate. 30 The city of Nippur knew of this affair. 31 “In the year King Ammi‰aduqa, the Humble Shepherd (= Ammi‰aduqa 2), 32 when Nabi’umn⁄‰ir the barber 33 came to Nippur with a sacrifice 34 I complained. As before 35 he (Lu-Inanna) beat me and left me for dead (lit. threw down my corpse). 36 The city of Nippur learned (about it). 37 Once again I feared for my life and 39 informed (C: they informed) the city of Nippur 38 that I was wronged (A adds: and driven away by force), 39 but then I kept quiet. 40 “In the year King Ammi‰aduqa [Made] his Noble Statue (= Ammi‰aduqa 17b), 41 when His Excellency the minister Sîn-iq‹Íam 42 came to D›r-AbieÍuÓ at the outflow of the waterway °ammurapi [Provides] the People’s Prosperity, 43 I complained in the presence of His Excellency the minister Sîn-iq‹Íam. 44 His Excellency the minister Sîn-iq‹Íam 45 summoned the assembly of Nippur. 46 He 1 128 Babylonian Literary Texts ordered them to examine my case. 47 The assembly of Nippur sent instructions. 49 They brought 48 Lu-Inanna, the brother of my grandfather (C: the brother of ¡ˇirum, my father’s brother), into the presence of His Excellency the minister 49 and the assembly of Nippur. 50 They examined our complaint and 54 established in the assembly of Nippur 51 that Lu-Innana, the younger brother of ¡ˇirum, my father’s father, 52 was driving me away by force and 53 keeping the usufruct of the paÍ‹Íum-priesthood of Ninlil, so 56 they sent 55 their report back to His Excellency the minister and 57 he ordered 56 that a legal contract 57 be endorsed by sealing. 58 Then the king’s tablet came, and 59 His Excellency the minister (then) went on his way. 60 (But) [they did] not [have] his tablet documenting the contract [endorsed by sealing.] 61 Now, listen to what the city of Nippur says, 62 bring resolution to my case.” 63 This is what he said. 64 His Excellency the vizier Aw‹l-Nabi’um sent instructions. 67 He convened 65 the clerk of the king, the dean of Enlil, the deans, 66 the n¤Íakkum-priests, the paÍ‹Íum-priests (BC: the paÍ‹Íum-priests of Ninlil and the paÍ‹Íum-priests of Ninurta) and the office-holders of Nippur, 67 and listened to what they said, and 70 they said 68 that Gimil-Marduk was the son of Utlatum, son of ¡ˇirum, 69 was senior to Lu-Inanna and the office of paÍ‹Íum-priest of Ninlil 70 was his to keep. They examined their statements 71 and witnesses 73 gave 71 their testimony that 72 they knew 71 GimilMarduk 72 was the son of Utlatum, son of ¡ˇirum, was the senior party and (so) was Lu-Dumununna’s heir. 73 At that time the aforesaid Gimil-Marduk 78 lifted 74 the standard of Ninurta in the presence of His Excellency the vizier Aw‹l-Nabi’um, 75 Ibni-UraÍ the leader of the assembly, the clerk of the king, 76 the dean of Enlil, the deans, Tikl⁄-ana-Marduk the barber, 77 the n¤Íakkum-priests, the paÍ‹Íum-priests (BC: the paÍ‹Íum-priests of Ninlil and the paÍ‹Íum-priests of Ninurta) and the officeholders of Nippur. 78 The witnesses 80 gave 78 their testimony before Ninurta, the god of their city, 79 that Gimil-Marduk was the son of Utlatum, son of ¡ˇirum 80 and the office of paÍ‹Íum-priest of Ninlil was his to keep. 81 Final verdict in the presence of Ninurta, command of the assembly of Nippur. 82a Ibni-Amurrum, clerk of the king (A omits); 83a Nabi’um-n⁄‰ir, clerk of the king, 84a Utu-mupadda, dean of Enlil, 85a Girini-isag, judge; 86a Sîn-iddinam, clerk; 87a Utu-manÍum, brewer; 88a fiumum-libÍi, brewer; 89a Nabi-Enlil, brewer; 90a Enlil-b¤l-il‹, paÍ‹Íum-priest of Ninlil; 91a Ur-Sadarnunna, brewer of Enlil (B omits); 92a Ur-ukkingalla, paÍ‹Íum-priest of Ninlil; 82b Iddin-Ninurta (BC: Iddin-Ninlil), dean; 83b Utulu-ti, dean; 84b Iddin-Ninurta, n¤Íakkum-priest; 85b Enlil-manÍum, n¤Íakkum-priest; 86b Ibbi-Enlil, n¤Íakkum-priest; 87b Lu-UraÍ, n¤Íakkum-priest; 88b Ninurta-muÍallim, n¤Íakkum-priest; 89b NannameÍa, n¤Íakkum-priest; 90b Enlil-muballiˇ, n¤Íakkum-priest; 91b KA-Ninurta, n¤Íakkum-priest (B omits); 92b Ku-Ninimma, n¤Íakkum-priest; 93b Imgur-Ninurta, paÍ‹Íum-priest of Ninurta; 94b Aw‹l-Sîn, paÍ‹Íum-priest of Ninurta; 95b Utul-IÍtar, paÍ‹Íum-priest of Ninurta (A: Ninlil-mu[ . . . ]); 96b Tar‹bum, scribe. 97 Month 11, day 10. 98 Year King Samsuditana, through the Great Might of fiamaÍ and Marduk, Smote(?) Evil and Wickedness(?), and Drove out the Camp(!?) of his Enemy. 129 The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk SYNOPTIC TEXT A = 3209/1, B = 3209/2, C = 3209/3 Table showing the disposition of lines by column (i–iv) and edges MS A B C 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 i edge ii edge iii edge iv iii–iv edge [1]–24 1–24 1–24 25–26 25–26 25–27 27–54 27–[53?] 28–55 55–59 54 only? 56–59 61–81 55–79 61–81 82–96 81–97 82–97 97–98 80 98 (cont.) 98 98 B C B C B C B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C m gi-mil-damar.utu dumu ut-la-tum / dumu e-ˇi-rum ibila lú.dumu.nun.na {a-na-ku} ‚gi-milŸ-damar.utu ‚dumu ut-la-tumŸ / [dumu] ‚eŸ-ˇi-rum ibila lú.dumu.nun.na {a-[naku]} ma-Óar a-wi-lim a-wi-il-dn[a-b]i-um sukkal [ . . . . . . . . . . . ] ‚aŸ-wi-‚il-dna-biŸ-um su[kkal] [ki]-‚a-amŸ id-bu-ub um-ma Íu-ú-ma [ . . . . . . . . i]d-bu-ub um-ma Íu-‚úŸ-[m]a [dumu ut-l]a-tum dumu e-ˇi-‚rum dumu dumu Ía lú.dumu.nun.naŸ / [a-na-ku] [ . . . . . . . . . . . . ] dum[u] e-ˇi-rum dumu lú.dumu.nu[n.na] a-na-ku [ma-p]il-ì-lí-‚ÍuŸ [ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ] / [Í]eÍ a-bi a-bi-ia ‚Óa-ab-la-anŸ-[ni] m ‚aŸ-p[il- . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . l]ú‚gudu4?Ÿ / Í[eÍ . . . . . . . . . . . . ]-la-an-‚niŸ [ma-pil]-‚ìŸ-lí-‚ÍuŸ dumu lú.dumu.[nun.n]a / [ÍeÍ a-bi] ‚aŸ-bi-ia Óa-ab-la-[ . . . ] [Í]à.tam.tam lugal.la pisan.dub.ba den.líl.l[á] Íà.tam.tam lu[gal . . . . . . pi]san.dub.bame[Í] [ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . pis]an.dub.ba den.líl.lá pisan.du[b.bameÍ] pisan.dub.bameÍ nu.èÍmeÍ gudu4meÍ [n]u.èÍmeÍ [ . . . . . . . . . . . ] gudu4.dnin.urtameÍ [ . . . . . . . gud]u4.dnin.lílmeÍ g[udu4.dnin.urtameÍ] ù lúÍu-ut te-re-e-[t]im Ía nibruki ‚ùŸ Íu-ut t[e-re-e-ti]m <Ía> nibruki [ . . . . . t]e-re-tim ‚ÍaŸ ni[bruki] a-na ma-aÓ-ri-ka li-qé-er-r[i-bu-n]im a-na ma-aÓ-r[i-ka li-q]é-er-ri-b[u]-nim-ma [ . . . . . . . . -r]i-ka li-[ . . . . . . . . . -ni]m da-ba-bi li-mu-ru Ía-ap-ti-Íu-nu Íi-me-‚e-maŸ da-ba-[ . . . . . . . -m]a Ía-ap-ti-‚ÍuŸ-nu / Íi-m[e]-‚e-maŸ [ . . . . . ] li-mu-ru-ma ‚Ía-ap-ti-ÍuŸ-nu / [Íi]-me-‚eŸ-ma di-ni pu-ru-us-sà-am li-ir-Íi di-ni [ . . . . . . . . . Í]u-ur-Í[i] [ . . . p]u-r[u-u]s-sà Íu-ur-Íi an-ni-tam iq-bi an-[ . . . . i]q-bi-i-ma [ . . . . . . . i]q-bi-i-ma {m} a-wi-lum a-wi-il-dna-bi-um sukkal ‚a-wiŸ-l[um . . . . . -d]‚na-bi-umŸ sukkal [ . . . . . . . ] ‚aŸ-[wi-il-dn]a-bi-um sukkal iÍ-pu-ur Íà.tam.tam lugal.la pisan.dub.ba den.líl.lá iÍ-pu-u[r . . . . . . . . . lu]gal.la [pisan].‚dubŸ.[ba de]n.‚líl.l០[ . . . -u]r Í[à.ta]m.tam lugal ‚pisan.dub.baŸ den.líl.lá [m] 130 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 Babylonian Literary Texts A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C pisan.dub.bameÍ nu.èÍmeÍ gudu4meÍ pisan.dub.ba[meÍ nu.èÍme]Í [gudu4.dni]n.lílmeÍ [ . . . . .b]ameÍ [n]u.èÍm[eÍ gudu4.dni]n.lílmeÍ ù lúÍu-ut te-re-e-tim Ía nibruki gudu4.dni[n.urtameÍ] ‚ù Íu-utŸ [te-r]e-ti[m Í]a nibruki [ . . . .dn]in.urta[me]Í ù ‚Íu-ut te-reŸ-tim a-na ma-aÓ-ri-Íu ú-qe4-ri-bu-nim-ma a-na ma-a[Ó-r]i-‚Íu úŸ-qé-er-ri-[b]u-nim-ma [Ía ni]bruki ‚a-naŸ ma-aÓ-ri-Íu / ‚úŸ-qé-er-ri-bu-nim-ma m gi-mil-damar.utu dumu ut-la-tum dumu e-ˇi-rum / dumu dumu lú.dumu.nun.na m gi-mil- damar.utu dumu ut-la-tum dumu ‚eŸ-ˇi-rum / ‚dumu dumu ÍaŸ lú.dumu.nu[n.na] ‚lúŸ[gudu4?] [m]gi-mil-damar.utu dumu ut-la-tum dumu e-ˇi-rum / dumu dumu Ía lú.dumu.nun.na i-na pu-úÓ-ri Ía nibruki i-na pu-úÓ-ri Ía nibruk[i] [ . . . p]u-úÓ-ri Ía nibruki ki-a-am id-bu-ub um-ma Íu-ma ki-a-am id-bu-ub um-ma Íu-ú-ma [ . . . . ] ‚id-buŸ-ub um-ma Íu-ú-ma i-na mu am-mi-di-ta-na lugal.e / bàd am-mi-di-ta-‚na gúŸ sí-lá-kum.ma.ta i-na mu am-mi-di-ta-na l[ugal.e] / bàd am-mi-di-ta-na g[ú . . . . . . . . . . . ] [ . . . . . . . . . . ]-‚diŸ-ta-na lugal.e / [ . . . . . . . . ]-‚di-taŸ-na gú íd.sí!-‚lá-kuŸ.ma!.ta ‚aŸ-na nibruki al-li-ik a-na ‚nibrukiŸ [ . . . . ] [ . . . . . . k]i al-li-ik [u]du.níta sískur a-na dnin-kar-nun-na dingir-ia udu.níta [ . . . [ . . . . . . . . . . . ] a-na dnin-kar-nun-na dingir-ia [n]a-Íi-a-ku-ma na-[ . . . [na-Í]i-a-‚kuŸ-ma m lú-dinanna ÍeÍ e-ˇi-rum ÍeÍ a-bi-ia [... [mlú-di]nanna ÍeÍ ‚eŸ-ˇi-rum ÍeÍ a-bi-ia [Í]a nam.gudu4.dnin.líl.lá Óa.la e-ˇi-rum / a-bi a-bi-ia ik-ka-lu Ía gudu4.dnin.líl.l[á Óa.la] ‚e-ˇiŸ-[rum a-bi] / ‚aŸ-bi-‚iaŸ [ . . . . . ].‚dŸnin.líl Óa.la e-ˇi-rum a-bi-ia / i-ka-lu [a-na é] ‚dŸnin-kar-nun-na dingir-ia e-re-bi-im i[k-ka-lu . . . [a-n]a é dnin-kar-nun-na ‚dingirŸ-ia [udu.níta sís]kur na-qé-e ú-ul id-‚diŸ-nam a-[na e-re-bi-im-ma . . . ] / a-na [ . . . a-na ‚e-reŸ-bi-im-ma udu.níta sísk[ur na-q]é-e! [i-du-k]a-an-ni-ma a-na ba-bi-im uÍ-ta-‚‰íŸ-a-an-ni i-du-ka-a[n-ni-ma . . . ] / [u]Í-‚taŸ-[ . . . ‚úŸ-ul id-di-nam i-du-ka-an-ni-ma / a-na ba-bi-im uÍ-ta-‰a-a-an-ni [da-b]a-ba-am Íu-a-ti uruki nibruki i-<de-e> [d]a-ba-b[a-a]m Í[u-a-ti . . . da-ba-ba-am Íu-a-‚tiŸ uruki nibruki i-de-e The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A C A C A C A [i]-na mu am-mi-‰a-du-qá lugal.e / sipa sun5.na i-na mu am-mi-‰[a- . . . ] / sipa s[un5.na] i-na mu am-mi-‰a-du-qá lugal.e / sipa sun5.na an den.líl.la.bi.da.aÍ [i-n]u-ma dna-bi-um-na-‰i-ir Íu.i i-‚nu-maŸ dn[a- . . . i-nu-ma dna-bi-um-na-‰i-‚irŸ Íu.i [it-t]i sískur a-na nibruki il-li-kam it-ti sískur [ . . . ] x [ . . . ] it-ti sískur a-na nibr[uki . . . . ] [ad-b]u-ub ki-ma ma-aÓ-ri-i-ma ad-bu-ub [ki-ma m]a-aÓ-[ . . . ] ad-bu-ub ki-ma ma-aÓ-[ . . . . ] ‚iŸ-[d]u-ka-an-ni Ía-lam!-ti id-di i-du-ka-a[n-ni Í]a-‚laŸ-[ . . . ] i-du-ka-an-ni Ía-l[a-am-ti . . . ] ‚uruŸ[ki n]ibruki il-ma!-a-ad [uruki] ni[bruki . . . . . . -a]d ‚urukiŸ nibruki i[l- . . . ] ‚eŸ-de-Íu-ma e-de-‚ÍuŸ a-na na-pí-iÍ-ti-ia ap-la-aÓ-ma [... a-‚naŸ na-pí-iÍ-ti-ia ap-[la-aÓ-ma ki-ma] ki-ma ‚ÓaŸ-ab-la-ku ù i-na e-mu-‚qí-imŸ da-ar-sa-ku Ó[a- . . . Ó[a-a]b-la-ku uruki ni[bruki] uruki nibruki ‚úŸ-la-‚amŸ-mi-id-ma ‚aqŸ-tu-ul ú-lam-m[i- . . . ú-‚laŸ-mi-du a[q- . . . ] i-na mu am-m[i-‰a-d]u-‚q០lugal.e / alam Í[à.aÍ].Ía4.a.ni ‚i-na muŸ am-m[i- . . . ] / ‚alamŸ [ . . . i-na mu a[m-mi-‰]a-du-qá [lugal].‚eŸ / ala[m . . . ].‚Ía4Ÿ.a.ni i-nu-ma a-wi-lum de[n.zu]-‚iŸ-qí-Ía-am a-bi érin ‚iŸ-nu-ma a-w[i- . . . i-nu-ma a-w[i-lum de]n.‚zuŸ-i-qí-Ía a-bi érin a-na bàd-a-bi-e-Íu-uÓki ‚ÍaŸ kunÓá ídÓa-am-mu-ra-pí- / nu-Óu-uÍ-ni-Íi il-li-kam ‚aŸ-na bàd-[ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ] / n[u- . . . a-na bàd-‚aŸ-[bi]-‚eŸ-Íu Ía kun íd.da Óa-mu!-ra-pí- / nu-Óu-uÍ-[n]i-Íi il-li-[k]am ma-Óar a-wi-lim den.zu-i-qí-Ía-am a-bi érin ad-bu-ub ‚maŸ-[ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ] a-b[i . . . ] ma-Óar a-wi-li[m den.z]u-i-‚qíŸ-Ía a-bi érin ‚adŸ-bu-ub a-wi-lum den.zu-i-qí-Ía-am a-bi érin [ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ] ‚aŸ-bi [ér]in a-wi-lu[m de]n.zu-i-qí-Ía a-bi érin pu-úÓ-ra-am Ía nibruki is-si pu-[ú]Ó-‚raŸ-am Ía nibruki is-si a-wa-ti-ia a-ma-ra-am iq-bi-Íu-nu-Íi-im om. pu-úÓ-rum Ía nibruki iÍ-pu-ur om. m lú-dinanna ÍeÍ a-bi a-bi-ia a-na ma-[Óar] a-wi-lim a-bi érin 131 132 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 Babylonian Literary Texts C A C A C A C A C A C A B C A B C A B C A C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C m [lú]-‚dŸinanna ÍeÍ e-ˇi-rum a-Ói a-bi-ia ù pu-úÓ-ri Ía nibruki ú-qé-er-‚riŸ-bu-nim ‚aŸ-[na m]a-Óar a-wi-lim a-bi érin ù pu-úÓ-ri Ía nibruki da-ba-ab-ni i-mu-ru-ma [ú-qé]-ri-bu-nim da-ba-ab-ni / ‚iŸ-mu-ru-ma ki-ma lú-dinanna ÍeÍ.bàn.da Ía e-ˇi-rum a-bi a-bi-ia k[i-ma] lú-dinanna ÍeÍ tur Ía e-ˇi-rum i-na e-mu-qí-im da-ar-sa-an-ni-ma i-n[a] e-mu-qí-im da-ar-sa-an-ni-ma nam.gudu4.dnin.líl.lá i-ik-ka-lu nam.gudu4.dnin.líl i-ik-ka-lu-ma i-na pu-úÓ-ri Ía nibruki ú-ki-in-nu-ma [ . . . . . . . ]-ri [ . . . . . ] / ú-‚ki-inŸ-nu-[ma] i-na pu-úÓ-ri ‚ÍaŸ nibruki / ú-ki-in-nu-ma ˇe4-em-Íu-nu a-na a-wi-lim a-bi érin ˇe4-‚em-ÍuŸ-nu a-na a-wi-lim a-[ . . . . . . ] ˇe4-em-Íu-nu ‚a-na a-wiŸ-lim ‚a-biŸ érin ú-te-er-ru-ma ka-ni-ik ri-ik-sa-tim ‚kaŸ-ni-ik ri-ik-sa-tim Íu-[ . . . . . . . . . . . ] ú-te-‚erŸ-ru-ma / ka-ni-ik ri-ik-sa-tim Íu-uk-nu-kam Íu-uk-nu-kam iq-bi-i-ma <iq-bi-i-ma> dub-pí Íar-ri il-li-kam-ma dub-pí Íar-‚ri ilŸ-li-kam-ma [ . . . . . . . . . . . . ] dub-pí Íar-ri il-li-kam-ma a-wi-lim (sic!) a-bi érin a-wi-lum ‚a-bi érinŸ uÍ-te-Íe-er uÍ-te-Íe-‚erŸ uÍ-te-Íe-er om. dub-pí ri-ik-sa-ti-Íu ú-u[l ú-Ía-ak-ni-ku] om. ‚i-na-an-naŸ [ . . . . . . . nibr]uki Íi-me i-na-an-na Ía-ap-ti uruki nib[ruki . . . ] [i-n]a-an-na Ía-ap-ti uruki nibruki Íi-me ‚di-ni pu-ru-us-sa? Íu-urŸ-Íi di-ni pu-ru-us-sà Íu-u[r-Íi] [d]i-ni pu-ru-us-sà Íu-ur-Íi an-ni-t[am] iq-bi an-ni-tam iq-bi-i-ma a-wi-lum ‚aŸ-wi-il-‚dnaŸ-[bi-um] / iÍ-pu-ur an-‚ni-tamŸ iq-bi a-wi-lum a-wi-il-dna-bi-um iÍ-pu-ur a-wi-lum a-‚wi-ilŸ-dna-bi-‚umŸ sukkal iÍ-‚puŸ-ur Íà.tam.tam.‚lugal.laŸ [pisan.dub.ba] ‚den.lílŸ.lá pisan.dub.bameÍ Íà.tam.t[am] lugal pisan.dub.ba den.líl.lá pisan.dub.bameÍ Íà.tam.‚tamŸ lugal.la pisan.dub.ba den.líl.lá pisan.‚dub.baŸmeÍ nu.èÍmeÍ ‚gudu4.dŸ[nin.lílme]Í! gudu4.dnin.urtame[Í] nu.èÍmeÍ gudu4.dnin.lílmeÍ gudu4.dnin.urtameÍ nu.èÍmeÍ [gu]du4meÍ ù lúÍu-‚utŸ [te-re-ti]m Ía nibruki ‚ùŸ Íu-ut te-re-tim [Í]a nibruki ù Íu-ut te-re-tim Ía nibruki The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C 81 A B C 82 A B 133 [ . . . . . . . . . ]-‚ap-ti-ÍuŸ-nu [ . . . . -m]a uÍ-zi-iz-ma Ía-ap-ti-Íu-nu iÍ-me-e-ma uÍ-zi-[i]z-ma Ía-ap-ti-Íu-nu iÍ-me-e-ma [... ki-ma gi-mil-d‚amarŸ.utu dumu ut-‚laŸ-tum dumu e-ˇi-rum ki-ma gi-mil-damar.utu dumu ‚ut-laŸ-tum dumu e-ˇi-rum [... ÍeÍ gal Ía l[ú]-d‚inannaŸ ù nam.gudu4 Ía d[ . . . ] ÍeÍ gal Ía lú-dinanna [ù na]m.gudu4 d nin.líl Í[a . . . Ía le-qé-e-‚Íu iqŸ-bu-ú / da-ba-ab-Íu-nu i-mu-ru-ma Ía le-qé-e-Íu iq-bu-‚úŸ da-ba-ab-Íu-nu i-mu-ru Í[i- . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . -m]il-damar.utu Íi-bu Íi-bu-us-sú-nu ki-ma gi-mil-damar.ut[u] Íi-bu Íi-bu-us-sú-nu ki-ma gi-mil-damar.utu [ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ]x lú.dumu.nun.na i-du-ú dumu ut-la-tum dumu e-ˇi-rum ÍeÍ gal ibila lú.dum[u.nun.na . . . ] / iq-bu-ú dumu ‚utŸ-la-tum dumu e-ˇi-rum ibila Ía lú.dumu.nun.na i-du-ú [ . . . . . . . . . ]x-Íu-nu gi-mil-damar.utu Íu-ú i-na ú-mi-Íu-ú-‚maŸ gi-mil-damar.utu Íu-ú iq-bu-ú i-na u4-mi-Íu-‚úŸ-ma / mgi-mil-damar.utu Íu-ú giÍtukul Ía dnin-urta [ . . . . . . . . . . -n]a ma-Óar a-wi-lim sukkal giÍ ‚tukul ÍaŸ dnin-u[rta] ‚aŸ-na ma-Óar a-wi-il-dna-bi-u[m . . . ] ‚aŸ-na ma-Óar a-wi-lim a-wi-il-dna-bi-um sukkal [ . . . . . . . . . gal].‚ukkinŸ.na Íà.tam.tam lugal.la m ib-ni-‚duraÍŸ [gal.ukk]in.na mti-ik-la-{am}-a-n[a- . . . ] m ‚ Ÿib-ni-duraÍ gal.ukkin.na mti-ik-la-a-na-damar.utu Íu.i [pisan.dub.ba den.líl.l]á ‚pisanŸ.dub.bameÍ mti-ik-la-<a-na>-damar.utu Íu.i Íà.tam.tam lugal.la [pisa]n.dub.ba den.líl.lá ‚Íà.tam.tamŸ lugal.la pisan.‚dub.ba denŸ.líl.lá pisan.dub.bameÍ [nu.èÍmeÍ] ‚gudu4meÍ ùŸ lúÍu-ut te-re-e-tim Ía nibruki pisan.dub.bameÍ nu.èÍmeÍ gudu4.dnin.lílm[eÍ] / gudu4.dnin.urtameÍ Íu-ut te-‚re-tim Ía!Ÿ nib[ruki] nu.èÍ‚meÍ gudu4.dnin.lílmeÍ gudu4.dŸ[nin.urtam]eÍ / ‚Íu-ut te-re-timŸ Í[a nibruki] iÍ-‚Íi-aŸ Íi-bu ‚Íi-buŸ-us-sú-nu ma-Óar dnin-urta dingir uruki-Íu-nu Íi-bu Íi-bu-us-sú-[nu] / ma-Óar ‚dŸ[nin-u]rta dingir uruki-[Íu-nu] Íi-bu Íi-bu-us-sú-nu ma-[Óar dnin-urta] / dingir uru!ki-Íu-nu ki-ma gi-mi[l-damar.utu] ki-ma gi-mil-damar.utu [du]mu ut-‚laŸ-tum dumu e-‚ˇi-rumŸ ki-ma g[i-mil-d]‚amar.utuŸ dumu ut-[la-tum] dumu ut-la-tum dumu e-ˇi-rum ù nam.gudu4 ‚dnin-lílŸ Ía le-q[é-e-Í]u ‚iqŸ-bu-ú dumu e-ˇi-r[um] ‚ùŸ nam.gudu4 dni[n-líl] / Ía le-[q]é-e-Í[u] / iq-‚bu-úŸ ù nam.gudu4 dnin-líl Ía le-qé-e-Íu / iq-bu-ú ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________ A di.‚til.laŸ [igi dni]n-urta inim pu-úÓ-ri Ía nibruki di.til.la igi ‚dnin-urtaŸ / inim pu.úÓ.r[um Ía]‚nibrukiŸ di.til.la igi dnin-urta / inim pu.úÓ.rum Ía nibruki ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________ BC [ . . . ]-‚dŸnin-urta pisan.dub.ba md‚nàŸ-na-‰ir Íà.tam.tam lugal.la m i-din-d‚ninŸ-líl pisan.dub.ba ‚mibŸ-[ni-dmar.d]ú ‚Íà.tam.tam lugalŸ 134 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 Babylonian Literary Texts m i-din-‚dŸ[ni]n-líl pisan.dub.ba ib-ni-dmar.dú Íà.tam.tam lugal md utu-mu.pàd.da pisan.dub Ía [(x)] [ . . . . . . .t]i pisan.dub.ba md md utu.[lú].ti pisan.dub.‚baŸ na-‚biŸ-u[m- . . . ] ‚Íà.tam.tamŸ lugal md lú? md utu.lú.t[i pi]san.dub.ba na-bi-um-na-‰i-ir Íà.tam.tam lugal m gìri.ni-ì.sa6 di.kud [ . . . . ]-‚dŸnin-urta nu.èÍ md utu-mu.‚pàd pisan.dubŸ.[ba den.lí]l.lá ‚mi-din-dŸ[ni]n-[urta nu.è]Í m d md i-din- nin-u[rta n]u.èÍ utu-mu.pàd.da pisan.dub.ba den.líl.lá m d [ . . . .lí]l-ma-an-Íúm nu.èÍ ‚ en.zuŸ-i-din-‚namŸ Íà.tam m d m gìri.ni-ì.‚sa6 diŸ.kud [ ] en.líl-[ . . . . . . . . . . ].èÍ md m en.líl-ma.an.‚Íúm nuŸ.èÍ gìri.ni-ì.sa6 di.kud [m]‚iŸ-bi-‚denŸ.líl nu.èÍ m md i-bi-[ . . . . . .].èÍ en.zu-[i-di-n]am Íà.tam m d md i-bi- en-líl nu.èÍ en.zu-i-di-nam Íà.tam m md lú-d‚uraÍŸ n[u.èÍ] utu-ma.an.Íúm lúlu[nga] m d m d lú- u[raÍ n]u.èÍ ‚ utuŸ-ma.an.Íúm lúlunga m md lú-duraÍ! nu.èÍ utu-ma.an.Íúm lúlunga md m nin-urta-mu-Í[a-lim nu.èÍ] Íu-mu-um-‚li-ibŸ-[Íi lúlunga] md m nin-urta-[mu-Í]a-lim / [nu].‚èÍŸ Íu-mu-um-li-ib-Íi / lúlunga md m nin-urta-mu-Ía-lim nu.èÍ Íu-mu-li-ib-Íi lúlunga md m nanna-m[e.Ía4 nu.èÍ na-b]i-‚den-lílŸ [x] x x m m ‚ Ÿ[ . . . . . . . . . . . . .è]Í na-bi-den-líl ‚lúlungaŸ md m nanna-me.Ía4 nu.èÍ na-bi-den-líl lúlunga om. m d md ‚ en-lílŸ-[m]u-ba-lí-iˇ / [n]u.èÍ en-líl-be-el-ì-lí / gudu4 dnin-líl md md en-líl-mu-ba-lí-iˇ nu.èÍ en-líl-be-el-ì-lí / gudu4 dnin-líl m d ‚KAŸ- nin.urta [nu.èÍ [ . . . . . . . . . .nu]n.na l[úlung]a om. om. m d m KA- nin.‚urta nu.èÍŸ ur-d<sa>.dàra.nun.na / ‚lúŸlunga den.líl.lá m d kù- nin.‚ìmmaŸ nu.‚èÍŸ [..............] m m kù-‚dŸnin.ìmma / nu.èÍ ur-ukkin.gal.la / gudu4 dnin-líl m k[ù-dn]in.‚ìmmaŸ nu.‚èÍŸ ‚mŸ[ . . . . . . ]x / ‚gudu4 dnin-lílŸ m xxx[...] [ . . . ] d[ . . . ] m d d im-gur- nin-urta gudu4 nin-urta m [ im-gur-dnin-ur]ta gudu4 dnin-urta m ‚sig5?Ÿ-dx x x [ . . . ] [ . . . ] ‚dŸinanna [x x] x m d d a-wi-il- en.zu gudu4 nin-urta [. . . . . . . . . . . . ] ‚gudu4 dninŸ-urta md [ni]n-‚líl-muŸ-[ . . . ] [...]xxx[...] m ú-túl-iÍ8-tár gudu4 dnin-urta [ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . mt]a-ri-bu m ‚ta-ri-buŸ-um [dub.sa]r m ta-ri-bu dub.sar [dub.sa]r ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________ BC A [ . . . . ] ‚udŸ.10.kam B iti.zíz.a ud.10.kam C iti.zíz.a ud.10.kam C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C A B C m The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk 98 135 A [ . . . ]-‚ta-naŸ lugal.e / [ . . . ] g[al.gal].‚laŸ [dut]u damar.utu.bi.‚da.ke4Ÿ / [ . . . . . . ] kum ‚iŸ ul giÍ? in.tag.ga / [ . . . . . ] B mu sa-am-sú-di-ta-na lugal.e / usu gal.gal.la dutu damar.utu.bi.da.ke4 / níg.érim níg.á!?(ina).zi.i ul giÍ in.tag.ga / karaÍ(KI.{UD}.KAL™BAD) kúr-Íu íb.ta.an.è.a C mu sa-am-s[ú- . . . ] / usu gal.gal.l[a . . . ].ke4 / níg.érim níg.[ . . . gi]Í in.tag.ga / ki.ud.bi!(ga) kal.x[ . . . .t]a.an.è.a NOTES 1. A patronymy comprising more than one paternal ancestor is unusual for the Old Babylonian period, when the father’s name usually suffices, even in legal texts. The style of patronymy exhibited here is unique to my knowledge and reads better as a two-generation patronymy of Utlatum, rather than a three-generation patronymy of Gimil-Marduk, but it seems that it belongs to Gimil-Marduk, not his father. Lu-Dumununna appears in the first millennium as a scribal ancestor in the patronyms of at least two scholars, probably both from Nippur: Enlil-k⁄‰ir, a kalû (lamentation-priest) of Enlil who owned two medical commentaries (Civil 1974: 333 l. 55: Íà.bal.bal mlú-dumu.nun.na Íu-me-ru-ú) and Ibni-Marduk, supposedly the author of the Series of the Fox (Lambert 1962: 66–67 VI 12: dumu mlú-ddumu.nun.na lú u[m.me.a nibru?k]i). The description of Lu-Dumununna as a “Sumerian” in Enlilk⁄‰ir’s colophon is witness to the enduring tradition among scribes of Nippur, chiefly handed down in lexical texts and colophons, that Nippur and Sumer were synonymous (Oelsner 1982, George 1991: 162). 6. The spelling Íà.tam.tam recurs in ll. 82–83, where it certainly signifies the singular noun Íatammum. It is also so used in documents of the D›r-AbieÍuÓ archive to be published by Karel Van Lerberghe, which is contemporaneous with the present text (see below). The regular spelling, Íà.tam, appears in l. 86. 11. The Íu of MS C’s ÍurÍi is poorly executed; a comparable form occurs in l. 36: e-de-Íuma. 21. For this year-name see Pientka 1998: 67. 23. Ninkarnunna was a deity of Ninurta’s household already in the Old Babylonian god lists and duly attends his master in Angim 180 and 189 (see generally Cavigneaux and Krebernik 2000, Richter 1999a: 61–62, 65). While his cult at Nippur is not yet attested in Old Babylonian documents dating to the period before the crises of the reign of Samsuiluna (Renger 1967), the Middle Babylonian metrological text knows of his shrine or temple, é d nin.kar.nun.na (Bernhardt and Kramer 1975: 98–99 rev. 26). According to a stilllater text, the Nippur Compendium, Ninkarnunna had a presence also at Nippur in the “outer Court of the Scepter,” which was probably part of Ninurta’s temple E-ÍumeÍa (George 1992: 158–59 v 5, 450). 31. Evidence for the year-name is collected by Pientka 1998: 94–95. 40. For this year-name and its variants see Pientka 1998: 123–25. 41. The title abi ‰⁄bim, lit. “father of the personnel,” was borne by senior palace officials who represented the crown; see further Stol 2004: 927–28. 78. The verb iÍÍi’a describes the action that accompanied taking an oath on a divine symbol. The clearest examples of the practice are provided by fiurpu III 14 and 17: ma-mit giÍmarri(mar) // dn›ri(izi.gar) na-Íu-ú u n‹Í(mu) ili(dingir) zak⁄ri(mu) “oath tak- 136 Babylonian Literary Texts en by lifting the spade-symbol, var. lamp, and swearing by the god.” The spade-symbol was Marduk’s, the lamp was Nuska’s. 81. The term di.til.la = ditillûm harks back to Ur III usage. 96. This is a fuller form of the year-name Samsuditana 5, as booked in Pientka 1998: 131. COMMENTARY The Historical and Geographical Context The historical and geographical contexts of this document are in the process of emerging, as scholars begin to grapple with the archives from D›r-AbieÍuÓ. As noted above, one of these archives is represented in the Schøyen Collection under the number MS 3218, which I have had the good fortune to study by courtesy of its owner. The archive comprises twenty-four tablets, including letters between high-ranking officials and archival documents dated to the reign of AbieÍuÓ. Several letters mention Nippur; one refers to its protection by a military force (3218/8). Among the correspondents are the “city elders of Nippur” (3218/16: 3: Íi-bu-ut a-li Ía nibruki) and the Íandabakkum officials (3218/14: 3: pisan.dub.bameÍ); the greetings formula in both invoke the gods of Nippur. The documents include an extispicy report relating to enquiries about the safety of troops stationed in D›r-AbieÍuÓ and at a dam on the Tigris (3218/6), ration lists for troops stationed in the military garrisons (birtum) of Nippur and D›rAbieÍuÓ (3218/1), disbursements to military personnel stationed at D›r-AbieÍuÓ (3218/7 and 12), and an account of foodstuffs given to a refugee who had fled there from the Sealand (3218/13). Daniel Arnaud has summarized an unpublished archive of the same date in which D›rAbieÍuÓ clearly figures as a military settlement, populated by mercenaries of very varied origin and functioning as the “fortress of Nippur” (Arnaud 2007: 41–44). It is unclear at the time of writing whether Arnaud’s archive and MS 3218 are the same batch of tablets. However that may be, what is surprising about these tablets is less the glimpse they give us of life in a garrison town on the frontier than the insight that Nippur was still, to some extent, a functioning city, populated by its traditional functionaries and worth defending by the Babylonian army. This insight is in stark contrast to the current historical consensus. It is well known that documents from Nippur ceased to be dated to kings of Babylon late in the reign of Samsuiluna, Ammiditana’s grandfather, and tailed off completely during the city’s occupation by Il‹mailum of the Sealand, who was a contemporary of Samsuiluna and his son AbieÍuÓ. The extant documents indicate that commercial activity at Nippur dropped off very sharply in the last third of the eighteenth century, and this has suggested to many at least a partial abandonment of the city, if not a complete depopulation (e.g. Stone 1977). Study of pottery from Nippur reveals a discontinuity in material culture between the Old Babylonian and Kassite-period occupation levels (Gasche 1989: 124–26, 137). Other archaeological evidence from Nippur has been interpreted to demonstrate that, as water ran out, much of the city was deserted; dunes of sand and clay particles marched across the city, including the area around Enlil’s sanctuary (Armstrong and Brandt 1994). The archaeological evidence is not of a nature that allows more than a very rough dating of this period of rupture in the city’s life, but it was attractive to date its onset to the crises of Samsuiluna’s reign. That turns out to have been much too early. The archives from D›r-AbieÍuÓ offer vital new evidence for the history of Nippur in the late Old Babylonian period. Those summarized above show the survival of the city into the reign of Samsuiluna’s successor, AbieÍuÓ. Another archive, now in Cornell, allows a rough reconstruction of Nippur’s history in the period between AbieÍuÓ and Samsuditana. For knowledge of this archive I am indebted to Karel Van Lerberghe, who very kindly gave me The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk a draft of his cuneiform copies and text editions, as well as a prepublication draft of the paper he and Gabriella Voet gave at the Münster Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale in 2006 (Van Lerberghe and Voet forthcoming). This archive contains eighty-nine administrative and legal documents dated from year 20 of AbieÍuÓ (1690 BC in the conventional chronology) to year 13 of Samsuditana (1613 BC), with a majority of tablets deriving from the end of this period. It is thus contemporaneous with the present document. Among the administrative documents is a dossier of receipts recording deliveries of sheep for sacrificial offerings (udu Íu.gi.na), described as a-na kurummat(Íuk) den-líl dnin-líl d nin-urta dnuska ù èÍ.èÍÓá Ía nibruki “for the food offerings of Enlil, Ninlil, Ninurta, Nuska and the eÍͤÍum-festivals of Nippur” (Van Lerberghe 2008: 128, Van Lerberghe and Voet forthcoming). The deliveries were accepted by the n¤Íakkum-priests and the paÍ‹Íum-priests of Ninlil and Ninurta, i.e. personnel of the temples of Nippur. The most revealing detail for the history of the archive is the fact that the two earliest records in the sheep dossier state that the animals were delivered to Nippur (Ammi‰aduqa 8 = 1639 BC, 9 = 1638 BC). In the next record, dated maybe a decade later (Ammi‰aduqa 17b), and in all subsequent records (down to Samsuditana 5 = 1621 BC), the sheep were delivered to the same personnel, but at D›r-AbieÍuÓ. The change in location for the delivery of the sacrificial sheep suggests that the cults of the gods of Nippur, or at the very least, the administrative bureaux that operated them, moved from Nippur to D›r-AbieÍuÓ some time in the decade between 1638 and 1628 BC. A seal inscription from Van Lerberghe’s archive suggests that the cult-center of Nippur had fallen into disrepair at this time. The seal reads dnanna.me.Ía4 ka-ri-ib dmar›duk(amar.utu) ud-du-uÍ é.kur ù nippuru(nibru)ki li-mu-ur “May NannameÍa, who renders homage to Marduk, (live to) see the renovation of Ekur and Nippur” (Van Lerberghe and Voet forthcoming). The seal’s impression appears on a tablet written by Nanna-meÍa, scribe, in Ammi‰aduqa 15 (1632 BC). If the seal expresses a genuine sentiment, and I cannot imagine why it should not, the 137 moment of Nippur’s desertion is narrowed to the years between 1638, when sheep were delivered to Enlil’s sanctuary there, and 1632, when the seal is first attested. The document published here also reports a change in geographical location. In Ammiditana 16 (1668 BC) Gimil-Marduk tried to sacrifice a lamb in Nippur but was ejected from the temple. In Ammi‰aduqa 2 (1645 BC) he petitioned Nabi’um-n⁄‰ir, again in Nippur. But in Ammi‰aduqa 17b (1629 BC or soon thereafter) Gimil-Marduk petitioned Sîn-iq‹Íam in D›rAbieÍuÓ, and Sîn-iq‹Íam ordered the matter examined by the “assembly of Nippur.” Finally, in Samsuditana 5 (1621 BC), Aw‹l-Nabi’um saw justice done to Gimil-Marduk in an outcome described as a “command of the assembly of Nippur.” It is not made explicit where the assembly of Nippur met on these two occasions, in Nippur or in D›r-AbieÍuÓ. The disruption of life in Nippur in the latter part of Samsuiluna’s reign came soon after the depopulation of cities further south, following a war that seems to have led to a large-scale failure in the supply of water. This catastrophe had already led people from Uruk and Larsa to emigrate north to KiÍ, Babylon, and Sippar, where southern scribes, scholars, and priests were soon in evidence, and their colleagues from Nippur followed them, as Rosel Pientka has shown (1998: 179–96). Intellectuals such as Taq‹Í-Gula of Nippur made new careers for themselves at the royal court at Babylon (Charpin 1999–2000: 324). When the later kings of the first dynasty of Babylon wished to lavish patronage on the gods of Nippur, they did it at E-nam-tila, Enlil’s temple in Babylon (George 1992: 325–26; 1993a: 30–31 no. 849; Pientka 1998: 191). The removal of major Nippurian cults to the capital was surely the occasion of Samsuiluna’s restoration of Ninurta’s weapon Udbanuilla (about which more below), which was recorded in the name of his thirty-eighth year, 1712 BC (cf. Charpin 2004: 361). But this evidence is no longer the whole evidence. Between them, the archives from D›rAbieÍuÓ surveyed in the preceding paragraphs demonstrate that whatever disruption occurred at Nippur during the reign of Samsuiluna, it did 138 Babylonian Literary Texts not lead, as previously thought, to the complete collapse of the city’s life and institutions. Nippur remained a city worth defending and with a functioning cult, through the reigns of AbieÍuÓ and Ammiditana and into the reign of Ammi‰aduqa. To the evidence from D›rAbieÍuÓ can be added documents from elsewhere in Babylonia that refer to two separate individuals from Nippur during the reigns of Ammiditana and Ammi‰aduqa (Pientka 1998: 194). In addition, the solitary date-list of Ammi‰aduqa found at Nippur (TMH NF V 77) need not now be dismissed as a Middle Babylonian copy, but can be rehabilitated as evidence that this king controlled Nippur and that scribal activity occurred in the city in his reign (Frayne 1990: 425; cf. Charpin 2004: 368). Van Lerberghe’s archive vouches for the removal to D›r-AbieÍuÓ of the administration of the cults of Nippur not long before 1629 BC. The same picture is painted by the present document. It then seems very probable that the final surrender of the city of Nippur occurred in the latter part of Ammi‰aduqa’s reign, more than one hundred years after the crises of Samsuiluna’s reign. There is no suggestion that this was a surrender to a human enemy. Rather, blame lay with the encroachment by sand dunes observed archaeologically. 1 The translation of giÍ.gi4.gi4 as a “barrage” depends upon three pieces of evidence: (a) the OB forerunner to Urra VIII–IX 171–74, which groups gi zi.DU, gi giÍ.kéÍ.da, gi kun.zi.da, gi giÍ.gi4.gi4, (b) the lexical entry Emesal Voc. III 59: mu.[gi4.gi4] = giÍ.gi4.gi4 = sa-Ói-ru, var. sa-ki-rum, and (c) a passage in an address of Sîn-iddinam of Larsa to a statue of his father, N›r-Adad. In (a) “all these terms are translatable by Akk. miÓru ‘weir’” (Civil 1994: 129). In (b) both s⁄Óirum “turner” and s⁄kirum “dammer” are words from the technical vocabulary of damming. The latter’s derivation from sek¤rum “to dam” needs no further comment. For the former see, at the suggestion of CAD S 60, the entries Nabn‹tu O 321–22: ae.nigín, ae.nigin = [sa-Ói-ru]; there Where, then, was D›r-AbieÍuÓ? Thanks to the archives awaiting publication, the approximate location of this place is becoming clear. D›r-AbieÍuÓ was hitherto known from two published sources, a late Old Babylonian letter and a year-name of AbieÍuÓ. The letter, CT 52 118 (ed. Kraus 1977: 96–99 no. 118), is addressed by a son to his father and begins with a greeting that invokes Enlil, Ninlil, Ninurta, and Nuska, the chief deities of Nippur (Pientka 1998: 193–94). A boat-journey to d›r(bàd)-a-bie-Íu-uÓki is mentioned (l. 26), from which we can perhaps infer that D›r-AbieÍuÓ was easily reached by river or canal from Nippur. AbieÍuÓ’s year-name “m” commemorates the building of D›r-AbieÍuÓ: mu a-bi-e-Íu-uÓ lugal.e bàd-a-bi-e-Íu-uÓ.a.ke4 ugu giÍ.gi4.gi4.(a) íd idigna.ka.ta bí.in.dù.a “Year King AbieÍuÓ built D›r-AbieÍuÓ above the giÍ.gi4.gi4.a of the Tigris” (Pientka 1998: 32–33). The sign-group giÍ.gi4.gi4.a was until recently misread as ká.gal (Ungnad 1938: 186 no. 195, Goetze 1951: 102), an error put right by Rosel Pientka (see also Horsnell 1999 II 262–63 n. 103–4). Pientka understood giÍ.gi4.gi4 to mean reed-thicket, comparing it to giÍ.gi “reedbed” (Pientka 1998: 33 n. 62); Horsnell also considered gá.gi4.gi4 (“nad‹tu-cloister”). However, good evidence reveals that, in connection with a river, giÍ.gi4.gi4.(a) means “barrage.”1 This barrage is the phrase a—nigín means “to hold back water, to dam its flow,” as explained in A I/2 135 and 141: ni-gìnnigin = ka-lu-ú Íá mê(a)meÍ, se-kerum Íá mê(a)meÍ. Evidence (c), Sîn-iddinam’s text, reports that before N›r-Adad came to power an insurrection occurred and its leader took control of the land around Larsa. In detail it reads (VAT 8515: 55–60, copy van Dijk 1965: 2, cf. p. 6): íd.didli.[bi] giÍ Óa.b[a.ni.g]i4.[g]i4 ki ka ba.‚an.x xŸ bàd.didli Óa.ba.‚ni.dùŸ érin en.nu. gá {en.nu.gá} Óa.ba.gar.gar “he dammed its watercourses, built forts at the points where he [blocked off] (their) inlets and stationed troops there to guard them.” The result was first the failure of Larsa’s harvest, then famine and civil chaos. When N›r-Adad came to The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk 139 surely the dam that AbieÍuÓ constructed on the Tigris, which is well known from his own yearname (“o”), from an extispicy report, MS 3218/ 6 (George forthcoming), and from later sources, a chronicle and an oracle enquiry (Lambert 2007: 54–57 ll. 22–47, 150). A third attestation of the toponym occurs in an unpublished late Old Babylonian document from °aradum, a military garrison at Khirbet ed-Diniye, on the Euphrates near Haditha; it mentions the serving of ilkum-duty in D›rAbieÍuÓ (Joannes et al. 1983: 142, Pientka 1998: 220). Presumably the ilkum-duty was service in the army, for tablets of the archive MS 3218 and Arnaud’s and Van Lerberghe’s archives reveal that D›r-AbieÍuÓ was a place where troops were stationed. The topography gains a detail from the present text (l. 42), which refers to D›r-AbieÍuÓ Ía zibbat íd°ammurapi-nuÓuÍ-niÍ‹ “D›r-AbieÍuÓ at the outflow of the canal °ammurapi-(provides)-the People’s Prosperity.” The same long-winded phrase occurs in the extispicy report, MS 3218/6, and repeatedly in the unpublished archives.1 Evidently it was necessary to distinguish this D›r-AbieÍuÓ from another place of the same name. The digging of the waterway °ammurapi-(provides)-the People’s Prosperity was commemorated in °ammurapi’s thirty-third year-name and in a stone foundation tablet that came from D›r-Sînmuballiˇ, the fort he built at its intake (ed. Frayne 1990: 340–42). According to the yearname, the canal provided water for Nippur, Eridu, Ur, Larsa, Uruk, and Isin, i.e. all the major urban centers of Sumer. For this reason Douglas Frayne asserted that íd°ammurapinuÓuÍ-niÍ‹ was none other than the Euphrates itself. This is no longer tenable. The new detail makes it clear that the canal of this name ended at D›r-AbieÍuÓ, where it flowed into the Tigris. It could not then have been the Euphrates itself but was more probably a waterway that split off from the Euphrates and flowed southeast across the alluvium, thus connecting two branches of the country’s main rivers. The strategic importance of °ammurapi’s waterway is made clear by the location of forts at both ends, D›r-Sîn-muballiˇ at its intake and D›r-AbieÍuÓ at its outflow. °ammurapi’s claim in his year-name that his canal brought water to the southern cities, like his claim in the foundation tablet that it provided water for Sumer and Akkad, is hyperbole. His claims are not completely without foundation, however, for it is now known that in antiquity a branch of the Tigris occupied a channel formerly identified as the easternmost course of the Euphrates (Heimpel 1990, Steinkeller 2001). Thus it flowed southeast into Sumer, past MaÍkanÍ⁄pir, Adab, Karkar, and Zabalam. Much of southern Babylonia used its water, either directly or via the Iturungal and other canals that branched off from its right bank (Fig. 1). power he chased the enemy from Larsa and undid his work (ll. 128–38, copy van Dijk 1965: 3, cf. pp. 7–8): íd.didli giÍ bí.in.g[i4.gi4].a ka ‚ba.anŸ.[x].x bàd.didli b[a. dù].‚aŸ giÍtukul.ta Óé.‚bíŸ.in.dab5.dab5 [u]gnim.bi Óé.b[í.i]b.gaz. gaz bàd.bi Ó[é.bí.i]b.gul.gul íd.didli giÍ ka in.gi4.a.ta [gál] Óé.em.mi.in.‚tag4Ÿ.tag4 “He took by force of arms the watercourses that had been dammed and their inlets [blocked off,] and the forts that had been built (there). He slaughtered those troops, destroyed those fortifications, and opened up the watercourses from (the points where) their inlets had been dammed” (emending giÍ ka in l. 137 to ka giÍ). Note that the rebels’ strategy was to build dams and defend them with military positions. This was much the same as AbieÍuÓ’s on the Tigris, and no doubt he wished his barrage to inflict similarly dire consequences on the Sealand. Where I read zibbat, written kun and kunÓá, Van Lerberghe reads gú.(Ói.a) “on the banks” (2008: 129), and we have not been able to agree on this point. In every case I have seen, at first hand, in photograph or copy, the contentious sign is kun, usually so cursive it resembles máÍ = kun8, but not gú. Sum. kun = Akk. zibbatum is the technical term for the mouth of a river or canal (e.g. Vallat 1987). 1 140 Babylonian Literary Texts FIG. 1. Central Babylonia in the Old Babylonian period, showing the eastern branch of the Euphrates and the western branch of the Tigris flowing parallel, and the putative locations of D›r-AbieÍuÓ and the °ammurapi-nuÓuÍ-niÍ‹ canal (H-n-i). Adapted from Adams 1981: 166 fig. 33; on the location of Karkar at Tell Jidr (site 004) see Steinkeller 2001: 72. The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk An unpublished document reports the return of chariotry from Babylon to D›rAbieÍuÓ, a journey of five days’ duration, which led Arnaud to site the latter in Nippur’s immediate vicinity, to the south (2007: 42). The new understanding of the western course of the Tigris and the knowledge that D›r-AbieÍuÓ was located at the junction of the Tigris with °ammurapi’s great southern canal, not too far from Nippur, makes the town’s rough location clearer. It was most probably situated not far from the nearest approach of the Tigris to Nippur, about twelve kilometers east-northeast of the city, well downstream of MaÍkan-Í⁄pir and some way upstream of Adab. Robert Adams’ archaeological survey of this stretch of ancient river-bed, conducted in 1968–75, revealed Old Babylonian settlement at several sites (Adams 1981: 157 fig. 28, 166 fig. 33). The cluster of three sites that he numbered 1054–56 is promising, for it occupies a position on the right bank almost due east of Nippur, not far from the outflow of ancient canals that once brought water from the west; one of them could be °ammurapi’s waterway. Site 1054 displayed evidence of occupation extending through the middle centuries of the second millennium (“Larsa–Old Babylonian–Cassite,” Adams 1981: 271), thus encompassing the history of D›r-AbieÍuÓ. Thirteen kilometers further down the ancient river-bed toward Adab is the much bigger site 1188, which Adams found to have been an “important town, recently and extensively looted” (1981: 276). The damaged state of the site later gave it a nickname, Umm al-Hafriyat “Mother of Excavations” (Biggs 1989). Adams found no signs of post-Larsa period occupation at site 1188, but excavations in 1977 noted “evidence of occupation from the Uruk period (ca. 3500 b.c.), Ur III to Old Babylonian (2200– 1800 b.c.), Kassite (ca. 1250 b.c.), and Seleucid (ca. 300 b.c.)” periods (Gibson 1995–96). Douglas Frayne proposed that Umm al-Hafriyat is ancient fiarr⁄kum (uru.sag.rig7ki), a place known from Early Dynastic to Old Babylonian times (Frayne 1992: 36), but in the light of more recent evidence others suggest that in the Akkadian period it could have been MaÍkan-iliAkkade (Pomponio et al. 2006 II 16). Neither 141 name would preclude the settlement at Umm al-Hafriyat being renamed D›r-AbieÍuÓ in the seventeenth century, but at twenty-five kilometers’ distance from Nippur it is probably too far away to be a serious candidate for the “fortress of Nippur.” Wherever D›r-AbieÍuÓ’s exact location on this stretch of river, its strategic function is obvious. It was fortified to defend Nippur and central Babylonia from the east and southeast, especially against a waterborne invasion. The specific threat was the territorial ambitions of the kings of the first Sealand dynasty, whose army had already briefly occupied Nippur under their king Il‹ma-Anum in the late eighteenth century and was again engaged in offensive action against Babylon’s borders in AbieÍuÓ’s reign. What happened to the cults of the gods of Nippur after their removal to D›r-AbieÍuÓ? D›r-AbieÍuÓ disappears from history during the turmoil that overtook the reign of Samsuditana and brought an end to the Old Babylonian dynasty. Samsuditana’s continuing interest in the town can be inferred from the fact that he redug the waterway that led there, as reported in an unpublished year-name preserved on a tablet now in Yale (YBC 10859, see Beckman 2000: 216, ref. courtesy Frans van Koppen): mu Samsuditana lugal-e íd °ammurapi-nuÓuÍ-niÍi mu-ba-al-lá “Year King Samsuditana dug the waterway °.” It is unclear whether this yearname is an alternative for one of this king’s early year-names or one that should be placed in the less well-known last years of his reign. Perhaps the former. Since we know that the ends of archives often coincided with political and social upheavals, it may be that D›r-AbieÍuÓ underwent a traumatic experience soon after year 13 of Samsuditana, when Van Lerberghe’s archive runs out. The inclusion of the first Sealand dynasty in the Babylonian king lists is an admission that its kings must, at some time, have controlled a significant part of Babylonia. It can be speculated that, as the Kassites came to power in Babylon and the north, the Sealand kings again pushed up the Tigris and, crushing any resistance at D›r-AbieÍuÓ, took control of central and east- 142 Babylonian Literary Texts ern Babylonia, i.e. what may be called the Tigris corridor. A long power struggle ensued between Kassite and Sealand forces, which led eventually to a Kassite victory. It may be that D›r-AbieÍuÓ did not quite disappear from history. A late chronicle preserves a memory of the Kassite kings’ wars with the Sealand. One crucial contribution to Kassite success was Agum’s campaign against the Sealand, in which urud›r(bàd)-dellil(50) ikÍud (kur)ud é.galga.ùru.na b‹t(é) dellil(50) ú-Íal-pit “he captured D›r-Enlil and desecrated E-galgauruna, the temple of Enlil in D›r-Enlil” (Grayson 1975: 156 rev. 17–18). There were several settlements called D›r-Enlil, but the best candidate for the town sacked by Agum is the D›rEnlil that occurs in Middle Babylonian documents from Nippur in close geographical association with the Tigris (Nashef 1982: 90, citing W. van Soldt). Perhaps D›r-Enlil was formerly D›r-AbieÍuÓ, renamed by its Sealand conquerors and still in Agum’s time, in Nippur’s continuing desolation, a cult-center of the gods of Nippur in exile. The historical context of the present document is corroborated by the presence in it of many individuals who are also known from Van Lerberghe’s contemporaneous archive (see above). The accompanying table shows that twenty-two of the twenty-eight members of the assembly before whom Gimil-Marduk was finally vindicated, as listed in ll. 82–96, bear names that appear in the archive, and that there are sixteen cases in which names and titles coincide. Some of these sixteen cases are likely to attest to the presence in the two sources of the same individual. It is not surprising that none of the four royal officials mentioned elsewhere in the text, the vizier Aw‹l-Nabi’um, the barbers Nabi’um-n⁄‰ir and Tikl⁄-ana-Marduk, and the minister Sîn-iq‹Íam, occurs in the archive, for as senior courtiers they were probably residents of Babylon. Among them only Nabi’um-n⁄‰ir the gall⁄bum may be attested as an historical personage. A barber Nabi’um-n⁄‰ir is found in at least five Late Old Babylonian documents, several certainly from Sippar, dated variously from Ammiditana 17 to a year of Samsuditana.1 This is a period of more than forty years, so that more than one individual is probably at issue. One of them could well be the same person as the character encountered by Gimil-Marduk in Ammi‰aduqa 2, which would populate the document with at least one more historical figure. What is notable, however, is that neither Gimil-Marduk nor his opponents, Lu-Inanna and Apil-Sîn, appears in the archive, nor does the leader of the assembly, Ibni-UraÍ, although the present text maintains that all four held prominent positions in the hierocracy of Nippur during the period in question. Their absence gives us pause. The presence of historical truths and historical personages in a text that tells a story does not necessarily mean that its story is a true and unembellished account of events that actually happened. To explore this issue further, it is necessary to consider the historicity and fictionality of the genre to which our text belongs, the model court documents. Model Court Documents The best-known examples of Old Babylonian model court documents are those written in Sumerian. The genre has been described briefly by Samuel Greengus (1969–70: 43) and partly populated by Martha Roth (1983: 279–82). The edition promised by Stephen Lieberman (1992: 130) as part of what he called the Manual of Legal Forms did not survive his untimely death, but additions continue to be made to the corpus (Hallo 2002, Klein and Sharlach 2007). Greengus noted that these Sumerian documents typically involve the puÓrum “assembly” of Nippur, lack witnesses and date, and are sometimes extant in multiple copies. Observing their dissimilarity to the Ur III court records (ditillas), 1 Two published attestations are Arnaud 1989 pl. 52 no. 149: 16 (Samsuditana), Van Lerberghe 1986 no. 3: 3 (no date), both cited in Pientka 1998: 476 no. 65. Frans van Koppen generously drew my attention to these further unpublished instances: BM 80339: 11 (Ammiditana 28), BM 78589: 5 (Ammiditana 36), BM 80911: 16 (Ammi‰aduqa 16, see Pientka 2006: 61 n. 50). 143 The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk TABLE. The coincidence of persons from Text No. 17: 82–95 in the contemporaneous archive from D›r-AbieÍuÓ now in Cornell University, cited by title and regnal date. Data from the Cornell archive are presented by courtesy of Karel Van Lerberghe. Line Name 82 Ibni-Amurrum 83 Nabi’um-n⁄‰ir 84 Utu-mupadda 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 82 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 95 96 Title in No. 17 Title(s) in the Cornell archive Ammi‰aduqa Íatammum of king – 8.xii.4 Íatammum of king – 8.xii.4 Íandabakkum of Enlil Íandabakkum of Enlil Íandabakkum Girini-isag judge judge 8.xii.4 judge of Nippur, paÍ‹Íum of Ninlil 11.iii.13 Sîn-iddinam Íatammum Íatammum 2.iii.1? Íatammum of Enlil’s temple 8.xii.4 Utu-manÍum sir⁄Íûm sir⁄Íûm of Enlil 5.x.20 fiumum-libÍi sir⁄Íûm sir⁄Íûm of Enlil 17d.xi.22 Nabi-Enlil sir⁄Íûm father of sir⁄Íûm Ellil-b¤l-il‹ paÍ‹Íum of Ninlil paÍ‹Íum of Ninurta 17d.ii.6 Ur-Sadarnunna sir⁄Íûm of Enlil sir⁄Íûm of Enlil 5.x.20, 17d.xi.12 Ur-ukkingalla paÍ‹Íum of Ninlil paÍ‹Íum of Ninlil Iddin-Ninurta (A) Íandabakkum Íandabakkum 8.xii.4 Iddin-Ninlil (BC) Íandabakkum – Utu-lu-ti Íandabakkum Íandabakkum 2.iii.1?, 8.xii.4 Iddin-Ninurta n¤Íakkum n¤Íakkum 14.viii.6 Enlil-manÍum n¤Íakkum n¤Íakkum 5.vi2.22–17d.xii.12 Ibbi-Enlil n¤Íakkum n¤Íakkum 14.viii.6 Lu-UraÍ n¤Íakkum – Ninurta-muÍallim n¤Íakkum n¤Íakkum 5.x.20, 8.vii.6 Nanna-meÍa n¤Íakkum n¤Íakkum 10.v.2, ?.xii.7 n¤Íakkum of Enlil 17b.ix.14 Enlil-muballiˇ n¤Íakkum n¤Íakkum 15.ix.1 KA-Ninurta n¤Íakkum – Ku-Ninimma n¤Íakkum – Imgur-Ninurta paÍ‹Íum of Ninurta – Aw‹l-Sîn paÍ‹Íum of Ninurta father of witness 17b.iii.26 Ninlil-mu[. . .] (A)[ . . . ] – Utul-IÍtar (B) paÍ‹Íum of Ninurta abi ‰⁄bim 13.xii2.6, 14.xi.23 scribe 2.iii.1? Tar‹bum scribe Íatammum Samsuditana 2.v.12 3.ii.x 11.iii.3 3.ii 13.xi.25 10.v.2 2.v.12–4.ii.23 3.ii 11.i2.9 13.xi.25 10.vi.4 144 Babylonian Literary Texts the presence of a distinctive personal name and the archaeological evidence (i.e. palaeography?), he reckoned that the model court documents known to him were products of the IsinLarsa period. Roth agreed that “the single unifying factor in these records is the puÓrum of Nippur.” She further noted, “the cases recorded were doubtless actual cases, which were adapted and incorporated into the law curriculum of the Nippur eduba. It is not surprising to find that cases adjudicated by the local assembly might be used in schools for didactic purposes, in order to teach the student scribes the forms of a court record” (Roth 1983: 282). Later she observed that the archaeological context of at least one of the sources for such model documents was dated to Samsuiluna (Roth 1998: 175 n. 5). Three of the model court documents identified by Roth relate sensational cases involving murder, rape, and adultery. Among the others are those that record less lurid cases in which, for example, questions of inheritance and ownership are resolved. It may be added that some of these examples of the genre record the settling of disputes involving, as in the present case, office-holders of the temples of Nippur. Thus the famous homicide case tries the murderers of Lu-Inanna, a n¤Íakkum-priest (Roth 1998: 176–77); another document resolves a quarrel between prebendaries of Nippur (Roth 1983: 282 no. 2); and the model court case published by Hallo (2002) settles a family argument over the prebendary benefits of a paÍ‹Íum-priesthood of Ninlil. The appearance of personnel attached to the great temples of Nippur is not surprising in court cases heard in the assembly of Nippur. Writing of this assembly in Old Babylonian legal life Andrea Seri considers that it “may have been an organ restricted mostly to disputes involving people related to the temple” (Seri 2005: 177). Several of the Sumerian model court documents resonate strongly with the document published here. These are the cases of quarrelling prebendaries (Roth 1983: 282 no. 2, Hallo 2002) and, especially, a case of disputed inheritance on a collective tablet (Roth 1983: 282 no. 5). This last, now published by Jakob Klein and Tonia M. Sharlach (2007), also concerns prebends and, as we shall see, has many affinities with the subject matter of MS 3209. The present text differs from the Sumerian model court documents most obviously in language. It is also much longer and terminates with a list of officials and a date. It shares language with Nippur court documents from the reign of Samsuiluna, e.g. BE VI/2 49, ibid. 58 = UET V 2561 and PBS V 100. In length, content, and style it most resembles PBS V 100, which shares with MS 3209/1–3 a common format of four columns. PBS V 100 is a court document from Nippur, drawn up in year 26 of Samsuiluna, that also consists of a detailed narrative largely achieved through the quotation of direct speech; it has been studied by Erle Leichty (1989) and Martha Roth (2001). As Roth points out, this text does not record the outcome of a lawsuit; it records the outcome of a court hearing whose purpose was to confirm the results of an earlier legal process that had sought to establish the filiation of a posthumous son (Roth 2001: 260). The present text is likewise not, as written, the record of a lawsuit between competing parties; it reports the result of a legal process that confirms Gimil-Marduk’s claim, a process initiated by his petition to the vizier Aw‹l-Nabi’um. As in PBS V 100, the outcome is determined by the statements of witnesses. Because it bears seal-impressions, PBS V 100 can be identified as an original court document, not a copy. But, when compared with the Isin-Larsa period documents, it is clearly an example of a new style of court record at Nippur, devoid of Sumerian language and writing, a style that the present text also exhibits. Roth noted that in PBS V 100 the Í›t têr¤tim play a judicial role in the legal process alongside a judge, and found the phrase unique in the Old Babylonian period (Roth 2001: 265). The same Í›t têr¤tim appear in the present document, play- 1 The tablet was erroneously identified as coming from Ur by H. H. Figulla, and inadvertently republished in UET V. The history of publication is given by Hallo 1964: 95–96. The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk ing the same role, alongside both a judge and others who held high office in Nippur. The phrase brings up the rear of the generic list of officials who comprise or preside over the assembly, the “clerks (Íatammum) of the king, the dean (Íandabakkum) of Enlil, the (other) deans, the n¤Íakkum-priests, the paÍ‹Íum-priests (of Ninlil and Ninurta) and the Í›t têr¤tim of Nippur.” As a generic phrase it evidently covers those office-holders present at the assembly but not identified by specific job-titles in the body of the text (e.g. the brewers, three of whom are named in the appended list of officials). From this it appears that the new style of court record represented by PBS V 100 and MS 3209 accompanies an evolution in the terminology relating to the judiciary of Nippur. The identification of the present text as a model court document for use in pedagogy enables us also to speculate about the evolution of the genre. The Sumerian model court documents that originated in the Isin-Larsa period seem to have fallen into disuse in the late Old Babylonian period, as teachers of law at Nippur turned for models to more modern court documents of the kind represented by PBS V 100. Several features of the model court document published here have to be discussed against the backdrop of the evolution of court documents in the Old Babylonian period. In the extant juridical documents the assembly plays a prominent role at Nippur up to the reign of °ammurapi, but then disappears from view, being last mentioned in a retrospective passage of PBS V 100 (Dombradi 1996: 243). The frequent mention of the assembly of Nippur in the present text thus appears to be an anachronism (ll. 19, 45, 47, 49, 54, 81). More striking still is the rubric di.til.la (81), which was the usual “Gerichtsvermerk” in Ur III times but was superseded in the Old Babylonian period by Sumerian di.dab5.ba and Akkadian d‹num (Dombradi 1996: 158–60). It survived only in the academic legal tradition, as reported by the bilingual lexical entry di.til.la = fiU-ú (i.e. ditillû), di-i-nu ga-[am-ru] “completed judgment” (Ana itt‹Íu VII i 28a–29) and by its presence in one Sumerian model court document (Klein and Sharlach 2007: 5 ii 31, 10 l. 37). Its appear- 145 ance in both arose from pedagogy rather than contemporaneous practice. Another apparent anachronism is GimilMarduk’s three-generation patronymy. Such a patronymy is not found in regular Old Babylonian legal documents, where it is enough to identify an individual by his father’s name only. More complex patronymies were sometimes cited in late Old Babylonian D›r-AbieÍuÓ, as demonstrated by a legal document in Van Lerberghe’s archive that identifies a slavegirl’s vendor by father and grandfather (= two generations) and a witness by father and uncle (CUNES 51-01-20), but there is so far no parallel for a three-generation patronymy. LuDumununna, the oldest figure in Gimil-Marduk’s patronymy, has a name that in the Old Babylonian period seems to occur only at D›rAbieÍuÓ, in administrative lists from the reign of Samsuditana in Van Lerberghe’s archive. It is not genuine Sumerian but a back-translation from Akkadian (= the common Aw‹l-Sîn).1 Sumerian aliases were characteristic of famed scholars from the Old Babylonian period on and became increasingly recherché. A bilingual list of scribal ancestors is available in V R 44 ii– iii (ed. Lambert 1957: 12–13). Lu-Dumununna does not appear there, for the text is not completely preserved, but two first-millennium texts know him as an ancestor of scribes of Nippur (see the textual note on l. 1). In this light Gimil-Marduk’s patronymy can be taken as an early example of what later became conventional for scribes of Nippur, the citation of an illustrious ancestor bearing a Sumerianized name. This scribal conceit and the legal anachronisms identified in the preceding paragraph demonstrate that the text originated in an intellectual environment significantly influenced by academic practices. There is good evidence that refugees from Larsa and Uruk took with them their religious and social traditions, and court documents from the reign of AbieÍuÓ show them attempting to 1 For ddumu.nun.na = Sîn in the Old Babylonian period and later see Sjöberg 1960: 142. 146 Babylonian Literary Texts replicate their respective judicial practices in their new domiciles (Jursa 1997; Wilcke 1997b). It is evident from the archives awaiting publication that the legal traditions of Nippur lived on among the refugee population at D›r-AbieÍuÓ. It is not yet clear whether the removal of Nippur law to D›r-AbieÍuÓ explains the anachronisms observed above. It might be imagined that the legal traditions of Nippur underwent a reform led by academics, so that certain old practices were revived (di.til.la, puÓrum) and certain new conventions introduced (threegeneration patronymy). But there is an alternative that needs exploring. Could this model court document spring not from legal reality but from the academic imagination? It will be shown in what follows that considerations of structure, theme, and motif suggest that the story of Gimil-Marduk may be a fiction. Fact or Fiction? The one Sumerian model court case that uses the archaic term di.til.la instead of di.dab5.ba is the very one that has most affinities with the present text. Klein and Sharlach give it the title “Dispute over Inheritance Between a Man and his Uncle,” a title that could equally well apply to MS 3209 (Klein and Sharlach 2007: 9–13). In it, a man called Sîn-m⁄gir petitions the king at a location in the temple precinct of Nippur (níg.érim.nu.dib, see below), stating that his uncle, B¤l‹-ennam, has for ten years illegally denied him (nam.gú—ak) his father’s legacy of a share in a prebendary office, house, and land. The king summons the assembly of Nippur and the judges in UbÍu-ukkinna, where witnesses state before the divine symbol Udbanuilla (ii 14) that B¤l‹-ennam had done what Sîn-m⁄gir said he had, and the assembly and judges then rule in Sîn-m⁄gir’s favor and order the uncle to pay a fine. When read alongside each other, the court documents about Sîn-m⁄gir and Gimil-Marduk display considerable similarity in structure and theme, and in setting and topic, even though the one is written in Sumerian and the other in Akkadian. Both can be envisaged as products of the very same pedagogical exercise, in which a teacher of law required his pupil to compose a convincing and ostensibly authentic court document on the paradigmatic theme of the Uncle who Stole his Nephew’s Inheritance. In this regard it should be noted that improvised composition using a predetermined structure and topic is not unexpected as a pedagogic method in ancient Babylonian scribal education. Something similar is known to have been practiced in Egypt, where “initial sentences, closing sentences and important keywords were explicitly written down and learnt by heart, and following generations were left to ‘co-author’ their own versions” (Alster and Oshima 2007: 7 n. 44). It can be imagined that, when an improvisation was as successful as the story of GimilMarduk, it quickly became adopted as a model and itself entered the scribal tradition as a copy book. An exploration of the literary character of the text adds to the suspicions raised by the anachronisms cited in the previous section. The literariness of model court cases has already been touched on by previous commentators. Following the lead of W. W. Hallo (1964), Greengus characterized the Sumerian model court cases as “literary legal decisions” (Greengus 1969–70: 43). Hallo later returned to the question of genre and explained that such documents qualify as literary because they are preserved in multiple copies, grouped on collective tablets, and formally distinct from actual juridical documents by the absence of witnesses and date (Hallo 2002: 141–42). This is a generic ascription arising not from any literary quality in the texts’ language and style, which is simple, functional, and unadorned, but from their adoption into the canonical corpus of scribal learning. More conventional literary texts predominate in that corpus, but it is perhaps a step too far to maintain that membership of the corpus automatically bestows literary quality on every text. However, some of the Sumerian model court cases do exhibit, at the minimum, one characteristic typical of much literature: they are narratives that impart compelling stories. There is a reason for this. In drawing attention to the narrative aspect of court records, Roth has pointed out that law cases would have been The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk selected for teaching either because they were typical of daily life or because they were atypical: “the more dramatical and lurid the situation, . . . the greater impression that the case— and thus the lessons derived from the case—will make and leave on the student” (Roth 2001: 254). It is no doubt the dramatic narrative of cases involving murder, rape, and adultery that imbues certain model court documents with a minimal “literary quality,” as well as explaining how these particular cases came first to the attention of modern scholarship. Gimil-Marduk’s struggle for justice over five decades is not so dramatic, but it is certainly a story of absorbing human interest. The Sumerian model court cases are conventionally held to be taken from reality, but this assertion has not, to my knowledge, been properly tested and proved to be so. The most recent publication of such documents takes a different position. Without making a clear statement rebutting the notion that model court cases were drawn from life, Klein and Sharlach demonstrate the close connection between those they publish and the pedagogical tradition, especially forerunners of the legal handbooks Ana itt‹Íu and Urra I–II, and also observe that their cases include “several fanciful or dramatic details, which are definitely not present in actual legal documents” (2007: 2–3). In other words, model court cases display a combination of imagination and academic knowledge of the law. This is precisely what we would expect if the scenario suggested above is right, that Sumerian and Akkadian model court documents about wicked uncles derive from pedagogical exercises in which the student fleshes out a paradigmatic theme. The documents that populate the genre need to be examined as a whole, and the prosopography checked against genuine archival records, but, from those that have already been published, one already gets the impression that the cases they describe are archetypical, between them covering the most exciting areas of Old Babylonian jurisprudence: murder, illicit sexual relations, adultery, adoption, inheritance, division between heirs, etc. These are concerns that arise also in Old Babylonian omen apodoses, and they were clearly 147 matters of social anxiety. As such they are obvious topics for fictional writing. In Sumerian the cross-fertilization of the genres of fiction and legal documents is represented by the sketch known as the Slave and the Scoundrel, an Old Babylonian satirical composition that apes legal forms and no doubt also stems from the pedagogical context of legal instruction (Roth 1983). Two later examples of this hybrid genre are extant: a Middle Assyrian contract in which a harem slave adopts a monkey (Franke and Wilhelm 1985) and the NeoAssyrian land deed published as ADD 469 (ed. Kwasman and Parpola 1991: 232–33 no. 288), which is clearly a humorous parody (Scurlock 1993). The present composition, however, is utterly serious and belongs in the same category as the Sumerian model court documents—or, at least, those that may also be suspected as fiction. The telling of a story, whether for serious or humorous purposes, is not the only literary quality possessed by these texts, the present example included. In the model court cases, right triumphs over wrong, good over evil, sometimes despite many tribulations that impede that triumph. They are thus moralistic texts, if not quite morality tales. Their combination of moralizing and simple language makes them a genre doubly useful in pedagogy. The same combination is also characteristic of a perennial literary genre, folktales. In this respect it is interesting to observe that the particular model court case published here is populated by some of the same stereotypes that inhabit folktale. The wicked uncle in the city connives to cheat a naive but bold youth from the country out of his inheritance. The folklore motif of the wicked uncle who robs his nephew of power and honor was widely current in the ancient Near East. It lies behind the Middle Egyptian tale of Horus and Seth, whose frame is remarkably similar to that of Gimil-Marduk: the boy Horus claims from Atum, the leader of the divine council, the office of his dead father Osiris. A court comprising the divine council hears arguments as to who should inherit the office: Horus or the scheming Seth, who in the dominant form of the story is Osiris’s older brother and Horus’s 148 Babylonian Literary Texts uncle. There is a protracted struggle but eventually Atum finds in Horus’s favor and Seth concedes. The same motif occurs in the Sumerian composition known as Enlil and Namzitarra, which mentions how Uncle (ÍeÍ ad.da) EnmeÍarra took from his nephew Enlil the power to determine destiny (Civil 1977). It was thus well known to Old Babylonian scribal apprentices educated in the Nippur curriculum. Later the motif was elaborated into a familiar pattern in the Babylonian folktale we call the Poor Man of Nippur, which begins when a naive wretch is cheated out of his rightful expectations by a wicked mayor. The present story develops differently but still along the lines expected in a folktale. At first the uncle succeeds because the city authorities take his side, but at length the wronged man’s persistence pays off and, through the mediation of two high officials of state, he finally triumphs and gains what is rightfully his at the fourth attempt. The sequence of triple failure followed by success is another pattern attested in Mesopotamian folklore narrative, most prominently in the poem of Anzû, where three gods refuse to fight Anzû but a fourth accepts the challenge and defeats him. The pattern falls under Axel Olrik’s Law of Three (das Gesetz der Dreizahl), which structures so much of the world’s folk narrative (Olrik 1965: 133–34, Vogelzang 1988: 178–79). If read as a piece of literary creativity in Akkadian, the Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk raises interesting comparisons not only with the Poor Man of Nippur but also with the similarly late tale of Ninurta-p⁄qid⁄t’s Dog-Bite (George 1993b). The stories of Gimil-Marduk and Ninurta-p⁄qid⁄t both had a pedagogic function: the former was a model for students learning legal terminology and practice; the latter was a humorous aid in grappling with the complex bilingual intellectual culture of post-Kassite Babylonia. Both are in some way unreal: the present text in its anachronistic combination of old and new terminology and practice, the humorous story in its premise that in Nippur even women selling vegetables were well enough educated to speak excellent Sumerian. Both promote the innate superiority of Nippur—in the one case in parading the judicial tradition of Nippur as exemplary, in the other in jeering at the lack of learning displayed by a senior doctor from Isin who does not understand a greengrocer from Nippur. And both are populated by historically attested personalities—the witnesses in the model court document and the eponymous hero of the tale of Ninurta-p⁄qid⁄t’s Dog-Bite (who appears in the bilingual list of scribal ancestors V R 44 and was thus historical, at least as far as the Babylonians were concerned). That Nippur and its institutions are the stage for three very different pieces of post-eighteenth-century literature— model court case, satirical sketch, and folktale— demonstrates the hold that this ancient city retained on the Babylonian imagination during the millennium after the catastrophes of Samsuiluna’s reign. The anachronisms present in MS 3209, large and small, its use of motifs and patterns drawn from traditional storytelling, its structural and thematic similarity to one of the Sumerian model court documents, and its affinities with Babylonian compositions of other genres are all features that make a good case for supposing that the three tablets published here may be not copies of an historical case but copies of a fictional court document. The composition they hold finds a place in the present volume not only because it was part of a tradition of scribal literature, but also for the sake of what it tells us about literature itself. Implications for Intellectual History On the basis of the composition’s historical and geographical setting, I would speculate that it arose in the intellectual milieu of scholarly families from Nippur who had taken refuge in D›rAbieÍuÓ in the mid-seventeenth century. There they kept their city’s scribal traditions alive down to the end of the Old Babylonian period, when this text was used as a pedagogical exercise in 1621. The tradition was vital, for the text came to serve as a model and be copied by later student scribes. Other tablets in the Schøyen Collection bearing academic texts probably derive from D›r-AbieÍuÓ. One, published here as Text No. 16 (MS 3208), is a late Old Babylonian model letter that invokes the gods of The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk Nippur. The others are MS 3117 and 3118, which are nearly duplicate copies of the compendium of lunar-eclipse omens as it was known in the Old Babylonian period. One of them, MS 3118, displays exactly the same handwriting as one of the copies of the present text (MS 3209/3 = C) and must be the work of the same individual. A picture begins to emerge of a late Old Babylonian pedagogical tradition that maintains a close connection to the intellectual traditions of Nippur but displays a marked proclivity for writing in Akkadian. Before the crises of the late eighteenth century literary creativity in Nippur overwhelmingly made use of Sumerian. In the fourteenth or thirteenth century Nippur re-emerged as an important center after a long period of depopulation. In this era traditional scribal education employed a modified syllabus that included a larger element of Akkadian literature (see further Veldhuis 2000). The late Old Babylonian tablets from D›r-AbieÍuÓ are witnesses to the evolution in the south of new, Akkadian-based curricula, and present early evidence for the emergence of literature in Akkadian as an important component of the scribal tradition. It seems the south, recently dismissed as a cultural desert post-Samsuiluna, was not so barren after all. Other evidence is emerging that suggests the south was a vital conduit of knowledge after the fall of Babylon. In his history of Sumerian literature William Hallo asserted that “Sumerian scholars and scholarship apparently fled to the Sealand” at the end of the Old Babylonian period (Hallo 1975: 201) but, for want of contemporaneous evidence, the significance of the first Sealand dynasty for the intellectual history of ancient Mesopotamia has been largely unexplored. Here there are other new developments, in the form of a group of unpublished Babylonian literary tablets, some of which are dated to kings of the Sealand (e.g. George 2008). Further study may well show that these Sealand tablets are evidence for the continuity of the southern scribal tradition between the seventeenth and thirteenth centuries. In considering the role of the Sealand in second-millennium intellectual history, further 149 light is shed by reassessing the tablet of recipes for glaze ostensibly dated to the second year of GulkiÍar, the sixth king of the Sealand dynasty, who flourished in the early sixteenth century (Gadd and Thompson 1936, Oppenheim 1970: 59–65). The text’s colophon attributes the recipes’ composition to Ile”i-bulluˇa-Marduk, son of UÍÍur-ana-Marduk, a patronym that F. A. M. Wiggermann (2008: 225–26 no. 4) has very plausibly identified with the Íandabakku UÍÍurana-[...], the father of Arad-Ea and grandfather of Uballissu-Marduk, as named on the latter’s seal (224–25 no. 3). Arad-Ea was a well-known scribal ancestor whom the same seal inscription shows to have been a member of a prominent family of scholars and prelates (Lambert 2005: xiv). Since another of UÍÍur-ana-Marduk’s grandsons emigrated to Assyria and became the secretary of King AÍÍur-uballiˇ (1353–1318) (Wiggermann 2008: 219–22 no. 1), the date of the previous generation of this family of scholars, among whose numbers were Arad-Ea and Ile”i-bulluˇa-Marduk, is fixed in the fourteenth century. The chronology of UÍÍur-ana-Marduk’s family demonstrates that Oppenheim and, before him, Landsberger, were right to dismiss as fraudulent the glaze-recipe tablet’s date to GulkiÍar’s reign. Now we see even more clearly that the tablet’s colophon asserts the text’s antiquity in two ways: (a) by attributing the text to a fourteenth-century scholar, and (b) by claiming a date of writing in the reign of a king of an even earlier period. This anachronism tells us two things. The first is that Babylonian scholars of the period when the tablet was written had lost track of the historical context of second-millennium scribal ancestors, a fact that we already knew from those texts that link the names of venerable scholars with kings, e.g. the text from Uruk that associates Sîn-l¤qi-unninni with GilgameÍ. The second is more important for the present discussion: the mention of GulkiÍar can now be taken as explicit recognition by later Babylonian scholarship that the Sealand kings, far from being cultural philistines, presided over a realm in which scholarship was active and the scribal traditions of Babylonia were cherished and handed on. 150 Babylonian Literary Texts Legal and Juridical Matters The probable fictional nature of this composition compromises it as an authentic witness to social and legal conditions in Old Babylonian Nippur as they once had been, for we have to beware of both anachronism and academic idealism. But given the continuity of legal traditions among Old Babylonian communities in exile, observed among refugees from Uruk and Larsa, and the conservative nature of academic traditions, it is legitimate to consider GimilMarduk’s complaint as broadly indicative of social practice and legal custom in late Old Babylonian Nippur and D›r-AbieÍuÓ. Specialists will glean more from the text than is done here. For the moment it is enough to comment briefly on a few matters that stand out. First, when Gimil-Marduk applies to the city authorities but cannot get any response to his claims of being deprived of his inheritance and beaten, he turns to officials from the central government: the barber Nabi’um-n⁄‰ir, the minister Sîn-iq‹Íam, and finally the vizier Aw‹lNabi’um. The important point here is that in Babylonian society, when local officials failed to provide satisfaction, an aggrieved individual could petition authorities from outside the city, typically the king or his ministers, and seek justice through their intervention. A congregation of officials, “the clerks (Íatammum) of the king, the dean (Íandabakkum) of Enlil, the deans, the n¤Íakkum-priests, the paÍ‹Íum-priests (of Ninlil and Ninurta) and the office-holders of Nippur,” is repeatedly cited in the text (6–8, 14–16, 65–66, 75–77). Under the probable direction of the leader of the assembly, Ibni-UraÍ, these officials act together as a judicial bench, by command of the visiting vizier and in the presence of the barber Tikl⁄-anaMarduk (a royal official who probably represents the crown). Their importance in the procedure is demonstrated at the end, where those who have not been named in the preceding text are identified by name and title, in an order that partly corresponds to the earlier, generic citing. There they are joined by the judge Girini-isag, who is no doubt present as a senior legal authority, and the scribe Tar‹bum, who is clerk of the court. This group of officials came before the vizier in the context of an “assembly of Nippur” (19), and their verdict is recorded as the “word of the assembly” (81). City assemblies were highly active in resolving legal disputes but their exact composition remains uncertain and no doubt differed from place to place and perhaps also from case to case. Andrea Seri’s recent analysis of the membership of Old Babylonian assemblies found that the “active participants in ‘the assembly’ included both royal and community representatives” (Seri 2005: 171). In the present instance we can assume that the group of listed officials either itself constitutes the assembly of Nippur or formally represents the opinion of a larger body so named. When Gimil-Marduk recounts the episode of his first encounter with his uncle, his most explicit complaint is that his great-uncle beat him and expelled him from the temple. The assault occurs when Gimil-Sîn tries to present a lamb to the god Ninkarnunna. Gimil-Marduk is careful to mention at the same time that his great-uncle occupies a prebendary office formerly enjoyed by his grandfather, which, as later becomes clear, is Gimil-Marduk’s inheritance. It can be supposed that when the grandfather ¡ˇirum died, his son Utlatum was already dead and his grandson and heir, Gimil-Marduk, was too young to perform the duties associated with the office of shareholder in the office of paÍ‹Íum-priest of Ninlil. Thus the grandfather’s brother, Lu-Inanna, took on the duties for the duration of Gimil-Marduk’s minority. Subsequently Lu-Inanna also died and his heir Apilil‹Íu followed him in office. With the duties of office would have come a handsome income. Gimil-Marduk’s mention of his greatuncle’s income from the prebend is not an inconsequence. Two suppositions can be made: (1) at the time of his first encounter with his great-uncle Lu-Inanna Gimil-Marduk was old enough to suppose that the office had become his, and (2) the sacrificial ritual he tried to perform was his first attempt to discharge the duties of that office. Gimil-Marduk was from out of town, for he journeyed to Nippur to carry out the ritual; perhaps he already lived at D›rAbieÍuÓ, where he later had his successful audi- The Tribulations of Gimil-Marduk ence with the vizier Aw‹l-Nabi’um. The physical presence of the long-forgotten heir at the ritual, especially, would explain the violent reaction of the great-uncle: seeking to retain the office and its income for himself, Lu-Inanna naturally wished to have the young man disappear back to the country and not show his face in Nippur again. Gimil-Marduk makes it clear that the city authorities knew of his great-uncle’s actions, both on the first occasion (30) and on the second (39). This was important to his case, for he needed witnesses to substantiate his story. That the city did nothing suggests that the greatuncle occupied a position of considerable power and influence. As an acting shareholder in the office of paÍ‹Íum-priest of Ninurta, he may himself have sat in the assembly of Nippur. It took the successive interventions of two very powerful ministers of the crown, Sîn-iq‹Íam and Aw‹l-Nabi’um, to force the city’s assembly finally to right the wrongs done to Gimil-Marduk. There is another factor in the change in Gimil-Marduk’s fortunes: at the end Lu-Inanna is no longer on the scene, and the oppressive relative is Apil-il‹Íu. The transfer of the hereditary office from the former to the latter gave Gimil-Marduk a further opportunity to attempt a restitution and, this time, with the old man gone, he was successful and the story could end happily. The text adds to our knowledge of Babylonian legal procedures, for it gives very explicit information on how the Nippur judiciary was expected to establish truth in court. The petitioner had made an oral deposition to a senior official, in which he related the facts as he understood them. As a consequence the official convened the court and the facts were established by the rehearsal of witnesses’ statements in the presence of the assembly. There is no explicit indication that the petitioner repeated his deposition at this point, though he may have done so. Then the petitioner physically took hold of a divine symbol and presented it to the office-holders; presumably what he then said was as a consequence bound by oath on the god but, again, the text does not record his words. The witnesses, however, are explicitly recorded 151 as having repeated in the presence of this symbol the evidence they had already given, no doubt also bound by oath on this second occasion. There was a dual judicial process, then: the preliminary rehearsal of the witnesses’ statements and the formal repetition before god. In PBS V 100 the procedure was similar, but there the oral deposition of the petitioners was made directly to the court, which then deliberated (i 1–ii 8); thereafter the witnesses gave their testimony on oath before the divine symbol, which resolved the problem (ii 9–iv 11). The procedure involved a transfer of judicial process from the meeting place of the office-holders in assembly to the place of oath-taking, for PBS V 100 and other court records from Nippur make it quite clear that these processes took place in separate locations. This is clearly seen in the model court case recently published by Hallo, where the initial procedure takes place pu-úÓru-um nibruki.ka “in the assembly of Nippur” and the oath-taking and final resolution in ká d nin.urta.ka “in the gate of Ninurta” (Hallo 2002: 146–47 ll. 7 and 20). The present document does not make the change in location explicit and perhaps envisages a slightly different practice, for the proceedings take place in D›r-AbieÍuÓ. But it does reveal that the whole court—the court officials, the petitioner, and the witnesses—took part in both processes. The dual nature of the process, before first the assembly office-holders and then Ninurta’s symbol, is neatly reflected in the present tablet by the summary in l. 81: ditilla maÓar Ninurta aw⁄t puÓri Ía Nippuru “final verdict in the presence of Ninurta, command of the assembly of Nippur.” More is known about the two locations in the procedure. According to model court cases and other pedagogical texts the location of Nippur’s assembly was the courtyard UbÍu-ukkinna in Enlil’s temple, the Ekur (Lieberman 1992: 132–33; Klein and Sharlach 2007: 10 ll. 17, 19); the same name is given to the assembly in a later compendium of legal language (Ana itt‹Íu VI iii 31: ub.Íu.ukkin.na.ke4 = i-na pu-uÓ-ri). The place of oath-taking was a gate of Ninurta, where legal agreements were traditionally ratified in the presence of his weapon (Lieberman 152 Babylonian Literary Texts 1992: 133; Hallo 2002: 145; Klein and Sharlach 2007: 17 l. 27). According to PBS V 100, the weapon’s name was Udbanuilla (i 24', ii 4, 9, iv 10: dud.ba.nu.íl.la, in Akkadian ›mu l⁄ p⁄dû “Merciless Storm-Demon”) and the gate’s name was Ka-du-ursangene “Gate, Mounds of the Warriors” (ii 10, iv 1: ká.du6.ur.sag.e.ne). Both of these occur also in the Sumerian model court case most like MS 3209, as dud.ba.nu. [íl.la] (Klein and Sharlach 2007: 5 ii 14, correct p. 10 l. 20) and the gate níg.érim.nu.dib “It Lets not Evil Pass” (ibid. 5 i 28, 9 l. 3); there the procedures are somewhat different, for the weapon was in UbÍu-ukkinna when the witnesses gave evidence and the gate was where the plaintiff had earlier petitioned the king. The divine weapon Udbanuilla is well documented in connection with Ninurta and Nippur in literary and legal sources.1 A variant of the gate’s name occurs in a section of the later source of legal language on Ninurta’s weapon, as Ka-ursangeneke-ningerim-nudib “Gate of the Warriors that Lets not Evil Pass” (Ana itt‹Íu VI iii 40–41: ká ur.sag.e.ne.ke4 níg.érim nu.dib = b⁄b qar-ra-di Ía rag-gu la i-ba-’u; Kraus 1951: 191; Roth 2001: 285). A further variant, [b⁄b gi Í ] kirîm(kiri6) du6.ur.s[ag.e.ne] in an Old Babylonian juridical document (ARN 59 rev. 1), was considered by F. R. Kraus to be the full form of the gate’s name (1951: 159), and linked by him and by Roth (2001: 285) to the Gate of the Date-Grove in Ana itt‹Íu VI iii 32 (ká giÍkiri6 = b⁄b ki-ri-i). To my mind this name is better understood as the conflation of a vernacular name, Gate of the Date-Grove (in Akkadian), and a ceremonial name, Gate, Mound of the Warriors (in Sumerian). Kraus suggested that this gate was situated in Ninurta’s own temple E-ÍumeÍa. This is a reasonable guess a priori, but the study of cultic topography throws up two pieces of evidence that suggest he was wrong. First, it is well 1 Renger 1967: 152; Cooper 1978: 124 on Angim 132; George 1992: 150 l. 20'; Richter 1999a: 64; Roth 2001: 285, but read CT 25 14 iv 18–19 with George 1992: 447. known that attached to Enlil’s sanctuary was a sacred date-grove called the Kiri-maÓ “Sublime Garden” (see George 1993: 113 no. 649 (é). giÍ kiri6.maÓ); the fact that Ninurta’s gate bore the vernacular name b⁄b kirîm could be because it led there. More compelling is the comparative situation at E-sangil in Babylon, for which many names of Nippur shrines were borrowed and adapted in an attempt to make the new religious center a replica of the old, especially in the location there of an UbÍu-ukkinna as the gods’ place of assembly (George 1999: 83). In the Grand Court of E-sangil there was a pair of shrines (sukku), the right-hand one called é.níg.érim.nu.dib “House that Lets not Evil Pass,” where stood the divine judge, Mad⁄nu, and the left-hand one called é.níg.érim.nu.si.sá “House which Lets not Evil Flourish,” where stood the pitiless Nergal (Tintir II 31'–32', ed. George 1992: 54–55). Mad⁄nu and Nergal were held to be two of the seven manifestations of Ninurta (KAR 142 i 22–25); the former personified Ninurta’s role as judge, the latter his role as warrior and huntsman. The fact that their shrines are standing places (manz⁄zu), left and right, makes it conceivable that they were located either side of a monumental gateway, and their location in kisal.maÓ “Grand Court” suggests that this gateway was an entrance into the court, perhaps its principal gate. The parallels between the two gates of judgment are self-evident, and the presence in E-sangil of the two divine guardians explains the first part of the name of Ninurta’s gate of judgment at Nippur: “Gate, Mound of the Warriors”: du6 “mound” is a common element in shrine-names, and the warriors are the two gods of retribution who stood there. If this topographical nexus originated in Nippur, then the gate of Ninurta of name similar to Mad⁄nu’s shrine in the Grand Court was no doubt a gate in the precinct of E-kur, perhaps Ninurta’s point of ceremonial entry to the courtyard UbÍu-ukkinna. There it would be a convenient location for witnesses to state testimony under oath and for Ninurta to ratify the judicial decisions of a court of assembly that met in UbÍuukkinna. A Tablet of Legal Prescriptions No. 18 4507 This is a single-column tablet that has suffered damage to its top end but is otherwise fairly well preserved. Its twenty-five surviving lines are inscribed in a regular Old Babylonian hand and divided into neat sections by double rulings. The tablet is included in this volume as a rare Akkadian composition in the Old Babylonian academic legal tradition. Pls. 61–62 ments in the present (§§2, 3 and the first part of 5). Others are formulated as protasis and apodosis (§4 and the latter part of §5). In this variation the present tablet resembles the great collections of Old Babylonian laws gathered in °ammurapi’s name and other similar compilations, where most laws are composed with a protasis, but some are not. The date of this tablet obviously precludes it belonging in the damaged section of °ammurapi’s code, which was promulgated maybe a decade after he conquered Larsa and brought to an end the long rule of R‹m-Sîn. However, as a set of legal prescriptions that served as models in scribal education it gives a glimpse of the academic sources available to the compiler of that code. The intelligible sections share a common theme, being concerned with the alienation of immovable property. §§2, 3 and 5 prescribe the reversion to the original owner of houses, fields, and prebends that had been transferred to another party, evidently illegally. §4 upholds the right to compensation, like for like, in the case of sales of undeveloped land. §5 is introduced by calendrical phrases, which seem a strange intrusion. Content The first and last sections (§§1 and 6) contain a Sumerian date based on the thirtieth year-name of King R‹m-Sîn of Larsa, which celebrated his defeat of Larsa’s great rival, the state of Isin. This year-name was used from R‹m-Sîn’s thirtieth year (1793 BC in the conventional chronology) to his sixtieth and last (1763 BC), which was the thirty-first year after Isin’s fall (Sigrist 1990: 59–60). The place of the present date in the sequence 1–31 is uncertain because the number is damaged and written over an erasure; it was either twenty, twenty-one, thirty, or thirty-one. The last section is unfinished, showing that the scribe abandoned his work for some reason. The repetition and unfinished text both suggest that the tablet is a product of scribal practice. The accurate writing of yearnames was an important skill that had to be acquired by would-be scribes, especially those who were to draw up legal documents, and the date was thus itself an exercise in writing. Probably the date in question was chosen because it was the very day that the tablet was written. If so, we may presume that the tablet stems from a year late in R‹m-Sîn’s reign, 1774 BC at the earliest, and that its original provenance was Larsa or a place under Larsa’s control. Between the dates are sandwiched legal text in the form of prescriptive sentences in Akkadian. Three prescriptions are simple state- Aspects of Language and Writing The language and spelling of the text are routine. Lexicographers and historians of law will be pleased to find in ll. 13 and 23 two further attestations of uwwûm “to misrepresent” (ewûm II/1), here signifying fraudulent acquisition (on this verb, booked in AHw as wu”ûm, see Finkelstein 1961: 94, Kraus 1979: 139–41, Charpin 1988). Note an apocopated accusative suffix: iqabbûÍ (17) instead of iqabbûÍu; and two plene spellings of subordinative -u: i-Ía-mu-ú (10) for iÍ⁄mu, ú-wi-Óu-ú (13) for uwwi’u. The latter is otherwise spelled with a false gemina- 153 154 Babylonian Literary Texts tion, ú-wi-iÓ-Óu (23). Geminated consonants are not always written plene: i-qa-bu-uÍ (17), i-Ía-ak- ka-an (18) for iÍÍakkan. Mimation is lacking in one instance: du-ú-ri (21). TRANSLITERATION obv. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 rev. 26 27 28 29 30 [iti.kin.dinanna ud.8.kam] [Íanat ki.21? giÍtukul.maÓ] [an den.líl den.ki.ga.ta] [ì.si.inki uru nam.lugal.l]a [ù á.dam.didli a.na me.a].bi [sipa zi dri]-‚im-dsuenŸ in.dab.b[a] [ugu ùg dagal].bi Íu nam.ti.la i.ni.g[ar.ra] [mu nam.lugal.b]i du.rí.‚ÍèŸ bí.in.‚è.aŸ -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------b[‹tum(é) giÍkirûm(kiri6)] ‚eqel(a.Íà)Ÿ uÍallim(ú.sal) ù ‚paŸ-ar-‰um Í[a a-Óu-u]m it-ti a-Ói-im i-Ía-mu-ú ga-[am]-ra-am ú-ta-ar ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------b‹t[um(é)] ‚giÍŸkirûm(kiri6) eqlum(a.‚ÍàŸ) ù eqel(a.Íà) uÍallim(ú.sal) [Í]a a-Óu-um ‚itŸ-ti a-Ói-im ú-wi-Óu-ú ‚úŸ-ta-ar ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Íum-ma a-wi-lum kiÍuppâm(‚ki.ÍubŸ.ba) i-Ía-am-ma a-na b‹tim(é) i-qa-bu-uÍ kiÍuppûm(ki.Íub.‚baŸ) ‚kiŸ-ma kiÍuppêm(‚kiŸ.Íub.ba) i-Ía-ak-ka-an ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------vacat iti.‚9? udŸ.5 ud.26.kam eqel(a.‚ÍàŸ)el du-ú-ri Ía a-Óu-um it-ti a-Ói-im ú-wi-iÓ-Ó[u] ú-ta-‚aŸ-a[r] ù Íum-ma [ . . . ] x x x[ . . . ú-ta-‚aŸ-[ar] ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------‚itiŸ.[kin.dina]nna ud.8.[kam] Í[a?-na-at ki] 21? giÍtukul.ma[Ó] x[ (x x)] remainder uninscribed A Tablet of Legal Prescriptions 155 TRANSLATION §1. [Month El›lu, eighth day, 2 year twenty-one(?) after, with the supreme weapon 3 of An, Enlil and Enki, 6 the steadfast shepherd] R‹m-Sîn captured 4 [Isin, the city of kingship 5 and its settlements, as many as there] were, 7 spared its [teeming population] 8 and demonstrated for all time [the fame of his kingship.] §2. 9 A [house, date plantation], riverside field or prebendary office 10 that [one man] bought from another: 11 he must return (it) entire. §3. 12 A house, date plantation, field or riverside field 13 that one man acquired fraudulently from another: 14 he must return (it). §4. 15 If a man 16 buys 15 a vacant plot and 17 they order (its reversion) to the (original) estate, 18 vacant plot shall be provided for vacant plot. §5. 20 Nine months, five days, the 26th day. 21 A field within the city wall 22 that one man 23 acquired fraudulently 22 from another: 24 he must return (it), 25 and if [ . . . ] 26 . . . [ . . . :] 27 he must return (it). §6. 28 Month El›lu, eighth day, 29 [year] twenty-one(?) after, [with] the supreme weapon 30 . . . (exercise abandoned) 1 NOTES 2// 29. Because the phrase giÍtukul maÓ (l. 29) occurs only in the year-names R‹m-Sîn 30–60, and ll. 1–8 are a witness to one of those same year-names, the transliteration assumes a repetition of the date, in which ll. 2 and 29 are the same lines. The sign that resembles gul in l. 29 is taken as a number written over an erased giÍ; 20, 30 and 31 are also possible readings. The opening word is clearly not the usual Sumerian mu “year,” for this is excluded by the trace that opens l. 29, and I have opted for an Akkadian spelling of this noun. 9–14. The explicitly nominative spelling pa-ar‰um (l. 9) indicates that the items listed in prescriptions §§2–3 are formally in casus pendens, though functionally the objects of utâr. 15. The erased signs read i-Ía-am. A Tablet of Riddles No. 19 3949 MS 3949 is a small rounded tablet of irregular shape, inscribed with eight lines of Old Babylonian cuneiform. The content is two riddles that have in common their subjects’ lack of a head. Riddles are a genre of folk literature that is not well represented in the written legacy of ancient Mesopotamia (Cavigneaux 2007). A small corpus of Sumerian riddles survives because it was copied out in Old Babylonian schools (Civil 1987, 1988, Cavigneaux 1996: 15). Riddles in Akkadian are even rarer. The Pl. 63 closest counterpart to the present tablet in language, period, and style is a difficult Old Babylonian school tablet of uncertain provenance now in the Iraq Museum (TIM IX 53, see van Dijk 1976: xi, Cavigneaux 2007). Other Babylonian riddles perhaps occur among the proverbial sayings collected on a Neo-Babylonian tablet from the Sippar library (George and AlRawi 1998: 203–6). The present tablet is probably from southern Babylonia, witness the spelling a-sú-ru-um in l. 3. TRANSLITERATION obv. 1 2 3 4 edge 5 rev. 6 7 8 qá-qá-da-am ú-la i-Íu ú-ul-da-Íu ÍaÓûm(ÍaÓ)? a-sú-ru-um mi-num! ma!-<Óa>-ar pu-ti-im qá-ar-ni i-Íu qá-qá-da-am ú-la i-Íu mu-ut-ta-aÓli-lu-um mu-ma-‰i i-ga-ra-tim TRANSLATION It has no head, (though) a pig(?) gave birth to it: 3 a drain. 3–6 What has horns (in) front(!) of (its) forehead, (though) it has no head? “sneak-thief” that lays walls flat. 1–2 6–8 A NOTES 2. Last sign: less likely the moon god, dsîn (suen). 3. The common word asurrûm denotes a void or drain under the floor that received waste water and provided a haven for snakes, mongooses, and worms. But in the present context something else (a worm or insect?) may be intended. 6–7. In this context a horned muttaÓlilum (lit. “slinker”) is evidently no burglar but some creeping thing whose nest undermines mud-brick walls. 156 References à Léon De Meyer. 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