Arrian, a Greek writer of the 2nd century CE, called himself a "second Xenophon", so it is no wonder that like his model, the classical Athenian writer, he composed a Cynegeticus, a prose treatise on hunting.
The opening of his treatise is in part a summary of Xenophon's work, in part a statement of his reasons for writing his own (1.1-2.1; transl. William Dansey):
The advantages that accrue to mankind from hunting, and the regard of the Gods for those instructed in it by Chiron, and their honourable distinction throughout Greece, have been related by Xenophon, the son of Gryllus. He has pointed out the similitude between Cynegetical and Military science; and the age, constitution, and frame of mind, that essentially qualify for entering on the chase;—has given a description of purse-nets, hayes, and road-nets, such as are necessary to be prepared—the mode of fixing snares for animals that may be entrapped—the natural history of hares, their food, haunts, forms, and the method of searching for them—what dogs are clever at scenting, and what faulty—and how, by their shape and work, each may be ascertained. Some few remarks are also left by him on the boar-hunt, the stag, bear, and lion chases—how these animals may be taken by cunning and stratagem.
The omissions of his work (which do not appear to me to have arisen from negligence, but from ignorance of the Celtic breed of gods, and the Scythian and African horses,) I shall endeavour to fill up: being his namesake and fellow-citizen, of similar pursuits with himself, as a sportsman, a general, and a philosopher—writing under the same feeling that actuated him, when he thought fit to amend the imperfections of Simon's work on horsemanship; not out of rivalry with its author, but from a conviction that his labours would be useful to mankind.
In my opinion no proof is required that Xenophon was ignorant of the Celtic breed of dogs, beyond this: that the nations inhabiting that district were unknown, except the parts of Italy occupied by the Greeks, and those with whom they had commercial intercourse by sea.
And much of the work restates ideas from the earlier author, but often with additions or caveats (chapter 2):
Let it be deemed unlawful to slip to a young hare; but rather, in obedience to my namesake, spare such for the Goddess. If possible, indeed, you should endeavour to call off the dogs on scent; though they are with difficulty checked, being intractable from hunger, and so keen at devouring whatever prey they take, that you can scarce drive them away, even by beating them with sticks.
The closing of Arrian's essay, taking up the mention of Artemis Agrotera and the undeveloped statements about piety in Xenophon; some Panhellenic ideas; and knowledges from the wider Roman world, is one of the most wonderful summaries of basic Greek attitudes toward the God, while simultaneously having a strongly personal voice (chapter 32-36):
The greyhound bitch is fleeter than the [male] dog, but the dog has more bottom [perseverance?] than the bitch; and, because he can run through the whole year, is a much more valuable acquisition: and as good bitches abound, but it is no easy thing to meet with a thorough-good dog, the latter is on this acount more precious: and again, it is fortunate if bitches preserve their speed to the fifth year, whereas dogs retain theirs even to the tenth. For all which reasons, in my opinion, a really good, high-bred [male] dog is a great treasure—one that falls not to the lot of a courser without the favour of some god. For such a blessing, then, he should sacrifice to Artemis Agrotera*.
He should sacrifice, too, whenever successful in his sport, dedicate the first-fruits of hisspoils to the goddess, and purify his dogs and sportsmen, as regulated by the established rites of the country.
Some of the Celts have a custom of annually sacrificing to Artemis*; while others institute a treasury for the goddess,—into which they pay two oboli for every hare that is caught,—a drachma for a fox, (because he is a crafty animal, and destroys hares,)—and four drachmæ for a roe-deer, in consideration of his size, and greater value as a game.
When the year comes round, on the return of the nativity of Artemis, the treasury is opened, and a victim purchased out of the money collected; either a sheep, or kid, or heifer, according to the amount of the sum: and then, after having sacrificed, and presented the first-offerings of their victims to the Goddess of the chase [gr. Agrotera], according to their respective rites, they give themselves up, with their hounds, to indulgence and recreation,—crowning the latter on this day with garlands, as an indication of the festival being celebrated on their account.
This Celtic custom I follow with my fellow-sportsmen, and declare no human undertaking to have a prosperous issue without the interposition of the Gods. For that Mariners, who regard their safety, supplicate the Gods at embarkation; and, after dangers escaped, offer up sacrifices of gratitude to the sea-deities, Poseidon, Amphitrite, and the Nereids. Cultivators of the soil do the same to Demeter, her daughter, and Dionysos; Artificers, to Athena and Hephaistos; Professors of instruction, to the Muses, Apollo Musagetes, Mnesomyne, and Hermes; Lovers, to Aphrodite, Eros, Peitho, and the Graces (Charites), And, upon the same principle, Sportsmen should not be neglectful of Artemis Agrotera, nor Apollo, nor Pan, nor Nymphs, nor Hermes, the conductor and president of the highways, nor any other mountain gods that there may be: otherwise their pursuits must turn out abortive, their dogs injured, their horses lamed, and themselves disappointed.
And of this, Homer gives evidence in his poem. Teucer, he says, the best bowman of the Greeks, in the archery-contest hit the cord only, and cut it asunder, because he had offered no vow to Apollo; but that Merion, who was no archer at all, by having invoked Apollo, struck the bird when on the wing.
Again, the posterity of those, who fought against Thebes with Polynices, captured the city, "To omens trusting, and the aid of Jove;" whereas their fathers, not at all inferior to them in valour, had perished before it, because they were disobedient to the signs vouchsafed to them by the Gods.
And lastly, Hector, inattentive to Polydamas when he objected to an attack on the Grecian fleet, (because the Trojans would not return from it with honour to themselves, as he inferred from a serpent dropped by an eagle,) was soon afterwards taught otherwise by experience, that no good comes of being refractory towards the Deity.
Following these examples, it is right in field-sports, as in every thing else, to begin with adoration of the Gods; and after having obtained success, to offer thanksgiving-sacrifices and libations, with auspicious words, and crowns, and hymns, and to dedicate the first-fruits of the captured game, as the conqueror does of the spoils of war.(*Theonyms changed from Latinized versions in the translation back to the Greek.)
Finally, I want to include the following, which is not "lore" of any kind, but one of my favorite pieces remaining from antiquity (even if Arrian is decidedly not one of my favorite people; chapter 5):
I myself bred up a hound whose eyes are the greyest of the grey; a swift, hard-working, courageous, sound-footed dog, and, in her* prime, a match, at any time, for four hares. She is, moreover, (for while I am writing, she is yet alive), most gentle, and kindly-affectioned; and never before had any dog such regard for myself, and friend and fellow-sportsman, Megillus. For when not actually engaged in coursing, she is never away from one or other of us. But while I am at home she remains within, by my side, accompanies me on going abroad, follows me to the gymnasium, and, while I am taking exercise, sits down by me. On my return she runs before me, often looking back to see whether I had turned any where out of the road; and as soon as she catches sight of me, showing symptoms of joy, and again trotting on before me. If I am going out on any government business, she remains with my friend, and does exactly the same towards him. She is the constant companion of whichever may be sick; and if she has not seen either of us for only a short time, she jumps up repeatedly by way of salutation, and barks with joy, as a greeting to us. At meals she pats us first with one foot and then with the other, to put us in mind that she is to have her share of food. She has also many tones of speech—more than I ever knew in an other dog—pointing out, in her own language, whatever she wants.
Having been beaten, when a puppy, with a whip, if any one, even at this day, does but mention a whip, she will come up to the speaker cowerin and begging, applying her mouth to the man's as if to kiss him, and jumping up, will hang on his neck, and not let him go until she has appeased his angry threats.
Now really I do not think that I should be ashamed to write even the name of this dog; that it may be left to posterity, that Xenophon the Athenian had a greyhound called Hormé, of the greatest speed and intelligence, and altogether supremely excellent.
(*Dansey gives us a footnote on why he changed the pronouns of the dog to "he", even though she has a female Greek name - the reason, as he states it, is that he feels like the Greeks and Romans just talk too much about female dogs and it follows [???] that they must really all be male; for obvious reasons, I have undone this obtrusive change.)
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