Strabo claims that the Telchines possess ‘many stories’ (πολύμυθον, Geog. 14.2.7), but few of these stories survive. When they do, they are mostly in Byzantine scholia and commentaries on earlier works, as well as in Nonnus.Footnote ¹ Often, rather than stories, the evidence for this mysterious race is made up of citations of details in earlier authors’ accounts.Footnote ² Indeed, apart from their involvement in the divine punishment of the people of Ceos,Footnote ³ these ancient wizards are best known to us not through stories but through metaphor as the maligners of Callimachus, whom he rails against in the prologue to the Aetia.Footnote ⁴

Callimachus’ Aetia begins with the Telchines, whom he presents as critics of and dissenters from his poetic programme and artistic taste:

So begins a passage long recognized as an iconic statement of Callimachus’ poetic programme: he likes things small, clear, little and light. Callimachus expresses his preferred aesthetics in delicate imagery: the cicada feeding on dewdrops is desirable, the braying donkey and the loud thunder are not; the poet is like a child telling a short story; old age, on the other hand, is oppressive like the large island Sicily on top of a giant; busy areas and wide roads are to be avoided; rather, stick to footpaths and byroads! The Telchines play an especially prominent role: they are mentioned twice by name in the first seven lines and directly addressed by the poet. In line 17 they are dismissed once and for all, making way for the appearance of Apollo: ἔλλετε Βαϲκανίηϲ ὀλοὸν γένοϲ⋅ ‘Be gone, destructive race of maligners!’

Since the publication of the papyrus in 1927, this passage has been examined, re-examined and then examined again.Footnote ⁷ Little attention has been paid, however, to the fact that the prologue to the Aetia is but one of three places in Callimachus’ work where the Telchines appear. I argue that the Telchines are strong expressions of Callimachus’ poetic programme not only in the prologue to the Aetia but also in the Hymn to Delos and in Aet. fr. 75.Footnote ⁸ Furthermore, the Telchines are but one element that ties these passages together. In what follows, I demonstrate how these three passages are connected—not only, but especially, by the Telchines—arguing that all these passages are programmatic and through them Callimachus makes a strong statement about his sources and his approach to composing verse.Footnote ⁹

The importance of the Telchines in the prologue to the Aetia is undeniable; I argue that, when the Telchines appear in the Hymn to Delos and in Aet. fr. 75, they mark these already programmatic passages as all the more important, giving further insights to Callimachus’ use of sources and expression of his views on poetry, especially in respect to the songs of Pindar and Bacchylides. Moreover, reading these passages together gives us a more complete view of Callimachus’ overall technique and poetic programme, leading to a greater understanding of the fragmentary Aetia as well as his extant corpus as a whole.Footnote ¹⁰

From Delos’ physical characteristics, long since recognized as a reflection of Callimachean aesthetics, to the continued emphasis on song as song, nearly all of the Hymn to Delos could be viewed as programmatic.Footnote ¹¹ The passage in which the Telchines appear is especially marked as such, since it is where Callimachus chooses the theme of his song (after some digression, of course): the birth of Apollo and so, in a way, the birth of song itself.Footnote ¹² I argue that this passage also provides a commentary on Callimachus’ sources and his view towards the aesthetics of verse.

Before arriving at the final subject of his song at line 51, the narrator addresses Delos (28–40):

Callimachus begins with an aporetic question (28–9): ‘But if very many songs encircle you, with which shall I weave you? What are you desirous of hearing?’ This evokes the question posed twice in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo first at line 19 and then again at line 208 πῶϲ γάρ ϲ’ ὑμνήϲω πάντωϲ εὔυμνον ἐόντα; (‘For how will I sing about you, who are entirely well-hymned?’ 19, 208).Footnote ¹³ The first time the narrator asks this question in the Homeric Hymn, he emphasizes the near futility of his task.Footnote ¹⁴ The second time, the narrator lists possible topics for his song. Callimachus combines both instances of the question, first acknowledging the wealth of possible topics of song (although the many songs that encircle Delos are a diminutive portion of Apollo's uncircumscribed realm) and then considering other topics (the history of Asteria/Delos herself) that are dismissed in favour of the narrative that is ultimately chosen. Delos, along with the rest of the Cyclades, has already been labelled with the key word εὔυμνοϲ in line 4.

While aporetic questions are a feature of much Greek poetry (and especially Pindar's songs, whose influence is also heavily felt in this passage), this particular question from the Homeric Hymn to Apollo is of especial importance to Callimachus’ entire hymn project—a small part of what moulds the hymns into a coherent corpus. Not only does Callimachus rework this question here, but he also does so at the end of his Hymn to Zeus (92–3) and his Hymn to Apollo (30–1). Indeed, this question is the question for Callimachus’ Hymns.Footnote ¹⁵ By asking a version of this question, Callimachus emphatically points to the Homeric Hymn to Apollo as a source.

Callimachus then turns away from the Homeric tradition and signals Pindar with the name Asteria (Paean 5, Paean 7b, Hymn 1 fr. 33c–d) as well as the exclusive birth of Delos, which evokes Pindar's description of the unique birth of Rhodes in Olympian 7.Footnote ¹⁶ Callimachus acknowledges Pindar and the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, his two dominant sources for his Hymn to Delos, but still diverges from both,Footnote ¹⁷ pulling the story into his own realm of poetic aesthetics and linking it to his broader corpus.

In terms of aesthetics, Delos’ unique provenance sets her apart from all other islands, emphasizing how fit a theme of song she is for Callimachus. While all the other islands were rolled into the sea by force (by a tool forged by the Telchines, no less), she took a different path and jumped into the sea of her own accord.Footnote ¹⁸ If we think back to Aet. fr. 1, Delos seems to follow Apollo's advice to Callimachus:

Not only does Delos choose her own path, but her slim, narrow physicality marks her as the narrow road, the slender Muse herself. The island of Delos, as Bing writes, ‘becomes the embodiment of Callimachean verse itself’.Footnote ¹⁹

The island's description is emphasized more than once in the poem: first in the words of the narrator in lines 11–15, later in the poem in the words of Apollo in lines 191–5 and in Delos’ own mouth in line 268. Even Iris’ negative characterization of Delos, πόντοιο κακὸν ϲάρον (‘evil sweepings of the sea’, 225), picks up on the essential quality of her lightness. Furthermore, Delos’ origin alone is Telchines-free.Footnote ²⁰ Nothing explicitly negative is said about the Telchines, but they have created a tool of ἀνάγκη, a tool of force and violence. While it is likely that the great god here is Poseidon,Footnote ²¹ and so the action is not in an entirely pre-Olympian setting, the narrative places this action before the birth of Apollo and so before Olympian rule has been fully established. This earliness is further emphasized by the fact that it is the πρώτιϲτα οὔρεα, ‘the very first mountains’ (30), that become the islands. According to Hesiod, οὔρεα were Earth's second creation after Ouranos (Theog. 129), making the first mountains very early indeed.Footnote ²² The Telchines, as part of this older world, stand as symbols for Titanomachy, Gigantomachy—all the turmoil before Zeus's established rule.Footnote ²³ In what follows, I argue that intratextual connections to another passage in the Hymn to Delos as well as Aet. fr. 1 cement my reading.

The story of the great god's formation of every island except Delos foreshadows later action in the Hymn to Delos, when Ares is about to hurl the peaks of Pangaios into the river Peneius for sheltering Leto. There, Peneius begins by addressing Leto and saying ἀναγκαίη μεγάλη θεόϲ (‘Force is a mighty goddess’, 122). This corresponds to the language used in the story of Asteria's birth, in which the great god created all of the islands except her, whereas she leaped into the sea of her own accord since force did not oppress her (36). These are the only two instances of the word ἀνάγκη/ἀναγκαίη in the entire poem. In fact, this word appears only one other time in all of Callimachus’ Hymns. Footnote ²⁴

Furthermore, Ares’ mountain hurling echoes the creation of the other non-Delian islands. First Peneius points to the threat: ἀπαύγαϲαι, οἷοϲ ἔφεδροϲ | οὔρεοϲ ἐξ ὑπάτου ϲκοπιὴν ἔχει, ὅϲ κέ με ῥεῖα | βυϲϲόθεν ἐξερύϲειε (‘See what sort, sitting, holds the peak of the highest mount, he who easily could drag me out from the roots’, 125–7). The word βυϲϲόθεν hearkens back to κατὰ βυϲϲόν (34), describing the new roots of the islands in the depths of the sea. Then we see Ares himself: ἀλλά οἱ Ἄρηϲ | Παγγαίου προθέλυμνα καρήατα μέλλεν ἀείραϲ | ἐμβαλέειν δίνηιϲιν, ἀποκρύψαι δὲ ῥέεθρα (‘But Ares, raising the peaks of Pangaios from the roots, was about to throw them into his whirlpools, hiding his streams’, 133–5). Like the great god earlier, Ares is about to knock down a mountain into a body of water—here not to create but to destroy.

Ares’ threat leads into a simile (141–7), one of the few in the Hymns:

This complex simile conjures up several vivid images, but is focussed not on sight but on sound. As Kurt Sier has argued, the imagery relates back to the beginning of the prologue to the Aetia through the contrast between loud, raucous noise and so-called ‘Callimachean’ aesthetics.Footnote ²⁵

There are no Telchines here but, when they appeared earlier in the hymn (31), they acted as metal-workers, forging the great god's three-pronged weapon. With the intratextual references in these passages, forging brings the Telchines back to mind, although here it is Ares who is the symbol of force and violence. As Bing and others have pointed out, one of Delos’ qualities is her tranquillity; the horses of Ares do not tread upon her: οὐδ᾽ ἵπποι ἐπιϲτείβουϲιν Ἄρηοϲ (277).Footnote ²⁶ Ares and the Telchines are linked, not only through mountain hurling but also through the partition placed between them and Delos.

The image at the beginning of the simile, a conquered giant pinned under a volcano, ties the passage to its poetic predecessors, once again pointing to Callimachus’ sources, as well as to his divergence. Pindar places Typhon under Aetna most memorably in Pyth. 1.15–20 but also in Ol. 4.7 and fr. 92. Callimachus evokes this poetic legacy with the participle τυφομένοιο even as he pins Briareus under Sicily in his place.Footnote ²⁷

In the Hymn to Delos, the story of the birth of the islands is linked to Ares’ threats and to the accompanying simile both thematically and through parallels in language. Both passages are also especially marked poetically. The former, as we have seen, is where Callimachus chooses the topic of song, but it also shows how Delos’ unique birth makes her especially fit for Callimachean poetics. The latter reflects Callimachus’ poetic programme, alludes to earlier poetry and stands out as one of the few similes in the Hymns.

These passages are also related to Aet. fr. 1 through the image of the giant pinned under Sicily. In fr. 1.36, however, Callimachus substitutes a different mythological figure for either Typhon or Briareus: Enceladus. The narrator describes old age as weighing on him as heavily as the island of Sicily weighs on Enceladus buried under Aetna: τριγ⸥λ̣ώ̣⸤χι⸥ν̣ ὀλ⸤οῶι⸥ νῆϲοϲ ἐπ’ Ἐγκελάδωι (‘the three-pointed island on destructive Enceladus’, 36). Here describing Sicily, τριγλώχιϲ is the same adjective used to describe the three-pronged weapon, which the great god used to create the islands in the Hymn to Delos (ἄορι τριγλώχινι, 31)—after it was forged by the Telchines. In Aet. fr. 1 a heavy island, Sicily, represents anti-Callimachean, bombastic, heavy poetics. This stands in contrast to petite Delos, ‘the embodiment of Callimachean verse’.Footnote ²⁸

So far I have focussed on two passages from the Hymn to Delos, arguing for their connection with the prologue to the Aetia and their relationship to Pindar and the Homeric Hymn to Apollo. I now turn to the third passage in Callimachus involving the Telchines: Aet. fr. 75, which appears in the third book of the Aetia and contains the conclusion of the love story of Acontius and Cydippe before an epilogue describing the history of Ceos. Here is the relevant portion:

The explicit naming of a prose source, which—although not unique in Callimachus’ corpus—is unusual, is part of what marks this passage as programmatic.Footnote ²⁹ The purpose and the effect of this citation, however, have been explained in many ways: as adding authority, as displaying the ‘scholar-poet at work’, as commenting on genre and the translation of prose into verse, as highlighting the Ptolemies’ connection to Ceos, and as drawing a distinction between older poetry and literary Hellenistic poetry, that is, written and not sung.Footnote ³⁰ Annette Harder sums up: ‘the result is an intricate combination of a sophisticated encomium for Ceos and a programmatic statement about Callimachus’ poetry, neatly separated from the preceding love-story by the device of presenting it as a summary of Xenomedes.’Footnote ³¹ Callimachus gives us insight into his choice of topics and how to use sources. He has all of Xenomedes’ history, but he only mentions dangerous lions and mass destruction in passing and instead tells a love story.Footnote ³²

Callimachus’ statement about his source Xenomedes, however, is more complicated than it appears. The citation of Xenomedes acts as a sort of bait and switch, distracting the reader from the sources he does not name: Pindar and Bacchylides. Dionysus of Halicarnassus tells us that Xenomedes was born not long before the start of the Peloponnesian War, but was still alive in Thucydides’ lifetime,Footnote ³³ which means that his lifetime surely overlapped with that of Pindar and Bacchylides and maybe even with that of Simonides, although they would have been at the end of their lives when Xenomedes was young. We have no evidence for Xenomedes’ sources, method or style apart from Callimachus’ statement that he placed all the islands in a mythological record (54–5), but he probably would have drawn on the accounts in earlier songs praising Ceos—now exemplified only by Bacchylides’ Ode 1 and Pindar's fourth Paean.Footnote ³⁴ Callimachus envisions Xenomedes as an earlier version of himself, combing through poetry for source material, although with a different project. In other words, Callimachus gives us the stories of Pindar and Bacchylides through the lens of Xenomedes.

The first connection to Pindar and Bacchylides comes with the story of the Telchines told in Aet. fr. 75, which also appears in Pindar, Paean 4 and in Bacchylides, Ode 1. David Campbell summarizes the story:

All our early accounts are vague about the end of the Telchines’ story, but later versions send the island deep under the ocean's waves, toppling an island into the sea.Footnote ³⁶ Callimachus’ language describing the creation of the islands and Ares’ threats to Peneius in the Hymn to Delos (see page 6 above) may very well allude to this fate. Bacchylides’ Ode 1 is rather fragmentary, but it is clear that it tells the story of the punishment and refoundation of Ceos. Macelo, whom Callimachus names along with her daughter Dexithea as the sole survivors of the destruction, appears at line 73, but we lack the portion of the song containing the actual story of the island's punishment. The Telchines are not mentioned in the passage, but it is possible that they were in a part of the song that is no longer extant, as we have evidence that Bacchylides did indeed write about the Telchines.Footnote ³⁷ Callimachus, Aet. fr. 75 and Bacchylides, Ode 1 only share vocabulary with the names Dexithea and Macelo, but in both cases the story of the Telchines is part of a genealogy. Callimachus tells of the Acontiads, descendants of Acontius, who still live very honoured in Ioulis (52), the hometown of Bacchylides and Simonides. Bacchylides genealogizes the Isthmian victor in whose honour the song was composed.

In Pindar's fourth Paean, we hear the story of the punishment of Ceos from Euxantius, son of Minos:

Pindar phrases Euxantius’ rejection of large, wealthy Crete in terms that Callimachus would later echo: a rejection of greater things for the small.

Pindar's Ceos in Paean 4, however, has the most in common with the description of Delos in Callimachus’ hymn, especially with the acknowledgement of the island's flaws (see page 12 below).Footnote ³⁸ Pindar's description of Rhodes in Olympian 7 and—unsurprisingly—Pindar's own Delos also serve as model for Callimachus’ island. I briefly discuss the connections with these more famous Pindaric islands before returning to Ceos.Footnote ³⁹

Although Pindar's accounts of the birth of Apollo are fragmentary, the topic was a popular theme and it is very likely that his songs contained many more descriptions of Delos.Footnote ⁴⁰ In his first hymn, Pindar's Delos is a ἱμεροέϲτατον ἔρνοϲ (‘lovely shoot’, fr. 33c.2), an ἀκίνητον τέραϲ (‘unmoving wonder’, 33c.4) and a πέτραν (‘rock’, 33d.8), which is buffeted by the winds before the birth of Apollo, but then is rooted to the earth by four adamantine pillars. In Paean 5, Pindar tells how the people were scattered among the islands rich in flocks (φερεμήλουϲ, 38), but Delos was reserved for Apollo (and so presumably is not rich in flocks). In Paean 7b Delos is an εὐαγέα πέτραν (‘a conspicuous rock’, 48).Footnote ⁴¹

There are similarities to Callimachus’ Delos in these descriptions: the lovely shoot fits well with Callimachus’ windblown asphodel (194); Delos is not poor in flocks, but still it is infertile since she is δυϲήροτοϲ (‘hard to plough’, 268); Delos is not a rock, but it is ‘rocky’ (243). Paean 7b is particularly important for Callimachus and his poetic programme since it contains Pindar's programmatic—though controversial—statement about the wagon tracks of Homer (10–14), which is clearly echoed in the prologue to the Aetia (25–8).Footnote ⁴²

Instead of relative poverty, the link between Pindar's Rhodes and Callimachus’ Delos lies more in the difference and exclusivity of the islands’ births and in the active choices of Apollo and Helios respectively.Footnote ⁴³ Just as Callimachus makes clear that all the other islands share a common source except Delos, in Olympian 7 Rhodes originally lies under the sea and is given a special creation after Helios has missed receiving a share of the earth. Indeed, the link may be stronger than that. Many scholars have interpreted Ol. 7.50–3 as a reference to the Telchines, either as a contrast to the Heliades or conflated with the Heliades.Footnote ⁴⁴ Some even read these lines as a defence of the Telchines. For instance, Farnell interprets these lines as a denial of charges of magic and wizardry.Footnote ⁴⁵

The name Telchines is not mentioned in Olympian 7 and statue-making is not a skill attributed to the Telchines elsewhere.Footnote ⁴⁶ Still, scholars have claimed that the men would have been recognizable to Pindar's contemporaries as the TelchinesFootnote ⁴⁷ and it is possible that Callimachus might have interpreted them thus. If so, including the Telchines in the passage describing the birth of Delos would be a further reference to Pindar as a source. If Pindar was indeed defending the Telchines, Callimachus would be using them to emphasize his debt to—but departure from—one of his chief poetic models.

Paean 4 focusses on the mythology of Ceos and was performed by Ceans. Still, as Ian Rutherford writes, it ‘had something to do with Delos’, and perhaps was even performed there.Footnote ⁴⁸ The song begins with an invocation to Artemis before comparing Ceos to Delos, either favourably or unfavourably (the text we have makes it impossible to tell). Soon Karthaia, a city on the south-east of Ceos, is described: Κάρθαι- | α] μὲν ⏑– – ἐλα]χύνωτον ϲτέρνον χθονόϲ | ⏑–⏑–×–] ν̣ιν Βαβυλῶνοϲ ἀμείψομαι (‘Karthaia is a narrow-backed ridge of land, but I would not change her for Babylon’, 13–15).

This mixed praise of Ceos continues (21–7):

The echoes of Pindar's Ceos in Callimachus’ Delos are clear: Both islands are narrow and rocky, unfit for horses, but especially dear to the Muses.Footnote ⁴⁹ Moreover, both islands are still beloved and desirable despite—or perhaps because of—their flaws.Footnote ⁵⁰

Besides the similarities in language, theme and story, Callimachus left further clues to his sources in fr. 75. At line 40 and again at line 44, Callimachus addresses Acontius directly by name: Ἀκόντιε. Then at line 53, Callimachus switches his address, calling Acontius by the demonym Κεῖε. This comes directly after speaking about how Acontius’ descendants still dwell in Ioulis, the hometown of Simonides and Bacchylides.

In the Aetia, the aition known as the Sepulcrum Simonidis (fr. 64) appears shortly before the story of Acontius and Cydippe, only separated by the short Fontes Argiui. Footnote ⁵¹ With his use of the address Κεῖε, shortly after an aition about Simonides, Callimachus is setting up the reader to expect mention of Simonides. Instead, he bypasses both Simonides and Bacchylides and references a prose author: Xenomedes. Now, especially since Bacchylides was a source for the destruction of Ceos, Callimachus is playing with the reader's expectations, but pointing to his sources beyond Xenomedes.Footnote ⁵²

A few lines later, when Callimachus writes that the eponymous founder of Ceos is the son of Apollo and Melia (line 63), he switches to another author, signalling Pindar as a source. More than one nymph named Melia exists in mythology, but by far the most famous is the nymph from Thebes. She appears in many of Pindar's songs,Footnote ⁵³ but also features prominently in Callimachus’ Hymn to Delos, in which she dances on Helicon directly before Callimachus’ blame of Thebes, which I argue elsewhere is a commentary on Callimachus’ use of his sources, especially Pindar's stories of the birth of Apollo.Footnote ⁵⁴ Here, when Callimachus states that Ceos is a son of Apollo and Melia, Callimachus is cryptically saying that Ceos is a son of Thebes or that songs about Ceos are the product of the premier poet from Thebes, that is, Pindar.

Just as Callimachus signalled his sources, the Homeric Hymn to Apollo and Pindar's stories about the birth of Apollo, in the Hymn to Delos while bringing up the Telchines, he does so in Aet. fr. 75, subtly pointing to the songs of Pindar and Bacchylides along with his stated source Xenomedes. Callimachus is not only making a programmatic statement about poetry, he is also giving insight into his poetry and the way in which he approaches composition, subtly pointing to his sources, but playing with expectations. Perhaps this is no surprise; this is the poet who claimed to sing nothing unattested.Footnote ⁵⁵ Still, reading these passages together gives us better insight into each individual passage and Callimachus’ views on poetry as a whole.

Acosta-Hughes and Stephens have pointed out that Callimachus juxtaposes young and old as a programmatic statement. This is most clear in the prologue to the Aetia, in which Callimachus laments his old age, but likens his speech to that of a child (fr. 1.5–6). They further point out that this contrast is echoed in fr. 75: early on the narrator compares himself to a child (line 9), and then, later, old Xenomedes with his tablets reminds us once again of young Callimachus with his tablets in the prologue to the Aetia.Footnote ⁵⁶ Xenomedes, then, is more than just a source for Callimachus, he is a model, a vision of a Callimachus from an older generation. More than just showing us the scholar at work, here Callimachus shows us the scholar at work showing another scholar at work. Callimachus tells us that Xenomedes was his source for the history of Ceos, but at the same time Callimachus was also looking back to the songs of Pindar and Bacchylides. This is made clear by the story of the punishment of the island of Ceos in both Bacchylides’ Ode 1 and Paean 4, but is solidified by Pindar's description of Ceos, as well as by the comparison of Ceos with Delos.

As we have seen, the Telchines appear at key moments in Callimachus’ works to illuminate his source material and his poetic process. Each time they appear, they mark the passage as poetically significant. As makers and enchanters who are associated with skill, they share characteristics with poets, shaping them as appropriate symbols of metapoetics. But as wielders of the evil eye, βάϲκανοι, γόητεϲ, φθονεροί, as Hesychius puts it, they are dangerous enchanters. Perhaps they can even figure as a darker version of our poet.Footnote ⁵⁷

Furthermore, the Telchines are pre-Olympian gods: old and old-fashioned.Footnote ⁵⁸ They represent older poets and older poetry, while Callimachus is the young, the new, the novel. Part of the Telchines’ hostility stems from their role as part of an older world. This contrast between the young and the old, the new and the ancient, is a dichotomy set up by other Hellenistic poets as well. Anatole Mori notes that this is especially prominent in Apollonius’ Argonautica: ‘Those who wilfully resist or oppose the Argonauts are represented as members of ancient, often autochthonous, races.’Footnote ⁵⁹ The Telchines, along with older semi-monstrous races, are at a loss understanding their role in the new world-order.

Acosta-Hughes and Stevens argue that in the prologue to the Aetia Callimachus offers a series of intentional misreadings, reworking metapoetic statements into his own vision of poetry.Footnote ⁶⁰ To give just one of their examples, Callimachus takes Aristophanes’ weighing of verse from the Frogs, but switches the meaning. In the Frogs, Aeschylus’ overladen poetics beat Euripides’ lighter verse. For Callimachus, on the other hand, the lighter the better. Returning to Strabo's description, I suggest one more misreading to help explain the role of the Telchines (14.2.7):

We have no early sources that present the Telchines as innocent craftsmen, but we have little early evidence for the Telchines at all. It is very possible, then, that we have lost these accounts. If Callimachus was aware of such accounts, this would add another dimension to his choice of presenting his critics as the Telchines: he is accusing the accused of being accusers. Turning the maligned Telchines into his critics could be yet another one of his intentional misreadings: instead of being misunderstood, the Telchines misunderstand.

Peppering poems with comments about the nature of song and poetry is a key characteristic of Callimachean verse, not only revealing Callimachus’ preferred aesthetics but also providing a view into his process of writing and thinking about poetry. The passages containing Callimachus’ Telchines are not only connected linguistically and thematically, they also appear at key moments in Callimachus’ work to make a compelling statement about Callimachus’ use of sources, his poetic programme and process, and the larger themes that bind Callimachus’ various works.