Greek τιθαιβώσσω is a rare verb, the exact meaning and etymology of which are unknown.Footnote 1 It has a typical profile of a ‘homerisches Wort’:Footnote 2 used once in the Odyssey, it is not attested in Greek literature again until Hellenistic times. This paper proposes a novel linguistic analysis of the word, starting neither with its meaning (which is uncertain) nor with alleged Indo-European cognates (which are even more uncertain) but rather with familiar morphological and phonological rules of Ancient Greek.
I
The verb is used in the Odyssey in the description of the cave of the Nymphs near which Odysseus awakes upon his arrival to Ithaca and in which he later hides the treasures he had received from the Phaeacians (13.103–6):
The context gives no clear indication of what the precise activity of the bees thus described might have been, while the ancient commentary offers the translation ‘to store up (honey)’: Schol. Q (Dindorf) τὴν βόσιν, τὴν τροφήν, ἀποτιθέασιν, ὅ ἐστι τὰ κηρία ‘they put away food, provisions, that is, honey’; Schol. V ἀποτίθενται τὴν βόσιν, ὅ ἐστι τὸ μέλι, οἷον θησαυρίζουσι τὰ κηρία καὶ νεοττοτροφοῦσιν ‘they put away for themselves food, that is, honey, as they preserve the honeycombs and feed young bees’.Footnote 3 According to an entry in Cyril's lexicon (fifth century c.e.) interpolated into Hesychius’ dictionary (fifth or sixth century c.e.), the implied object of the verb is μελίκηρον ‘honeycomb’.Footnote 4
The ancient translation ‘to store up (honey)’ is not implausible contextually and has been widely adopted for τιθαιβώσσω in modern translations and scholarship.Footnote 5 But how reliable is it? It is beyond doubt that to the ear of a Greek grammarian active in the third- or second-century Alexandria or Pergamum the first two syllables of τιθαιβώσσω would sound like a form of τίθημι, especially after the diphthong αι [ai̯] was monophthongized to [e],Footnote 6 while the second part (-βώσσω) would just as easily be associated with βώτωρ ‘shepherd’, βόσκω ‘lead to pasture’. The paraphrase of τιθαιβώσσω as τιθέναι ‘put’ + βόσιν ‘food’ found in the scholia is in all likelihood a folk etymology. There is therefore no reliance on the ancient tradition as far as the meaning of our verb at Od. 13.106 is concerned.
Outside of the Odyssey passage, the verb is entirely absent from Archaic and Classical Greek literature and resurfaces again in Hellenistic poetry. The passages containing τιθαιβώσσω are reviewed in the following section, even though none sheds light on the original meaning of the verb; τιθαιβώσσω makes an impression of being a learned intrusion, unlikely to have been part of anyone's active vocabulary at the time.
II
While one might expect a Hellenistic poet to use an obsolete Homeric expression to make an allusion to the Odyssey passage discussed above, not all attestations of τιθαιβώσσω seem specifically modelled on the Homeric phrase. The Homeric passage must have directly inspired the anonymous author of Pindar's metrical vitaFootnote 7 that contains the famous image of a honeycomb in the poet's mouth:Footnote 8 μέλισσά τις ὡς ἐπὶ σίμβλῳ | χείλεσι νηπιάχοισι τιθαιβώσσουσα ποτᾶτο (vv. 7–8, ed. Drachmann) ‘a bee came flying τιθαιβώσσουσα into his childish lips as if it was a beehive’. Here the verb is clearly used in the sense ‘put up honey’,Footnote 9 and the author of the vita may have used the rare Homeric word to create a complex intertextual reference emphasizing the parallel between the deep sleep from which Odysseus awoke next to the cave of the Nymphs and the deep sleep during which Pindar's poetic initiation took place.
In a fragment usually attributed to the poem Artemis, Antimachus of Colophon apparently used the verb in a more general meaning ‘to put away’: ἔνδοθ[ι] γ[ω]ρυτοῖο τιθα[ι]βώσσοισα κά[λυ]ψε (fr. 108 Matthews) ‘she hid (or: covered) τιθαιβώσσοισα into the quiver’;Footnote 10 the ancient commentator paraphrases the verb with τιθεῖσα καὶ ἀποθησαυρίζουσα.Footnote 11 Τhe object of τιθαιβώσσω is missing: the most straightforward solution would be arrows (as Cazzaniga argued),Footnote 12 but Matthews points out that quiver would not be thought a hiding-place (κάλυψε) for arrows and suggests that ‘[t]he reference may be to the goddess taking the offerings (λόχια) made to her (fr. 107) and storing them in her quiver’.Footnote 13 Especially under the latter analysis, Antimachus’ use of the verb would be essentially Homeric, under the assumption that the poet understood τιθαιβώσσω in the Odyssey passage to mean something similar to τίθημι. It is not coincidental that the verb applied by Homer to bees was chosen by Antimachus to refer to Artemis, since the goddess's association with the insect is well known:Footnote 14 the scholar-poet's penchant for recondite Homeric vocabulary prompted him to employ a verb that would invoke the image of bees for his learned readership.
The next passage to be examined comes from the Diomedes episode in Pseudo-Lycophron's Alexandra:Footnote 15 when Diomedes flees to Italy, the king of the Daunians recruits his services in a war against the Messapians in exchange for a share of the land but, when the king reneges on his promise, the hero curses the Apulian soil to be infertile until such time as an Aetolian (like himself) sows the land (621–2):
The intended sense of τιθαιβώσσω here is clearly ‘irrigate’, ‘fertilize’, which is rather different from the use of the verb in the Odyssey and in Antimachus. One may theorize that Lycophron understood the obscure Homeric verb to mean something like ‘to put (food) in’, hence ‘to feed’ and, by extension, ‘to water’ (the scholia to Lycophron use the same paraphrase τὴν βόσιν τίθεσθαι that we have already seen above). But much more significant is the mention of Deo, viz. Demeter,Footnote 17 earlier in the sentence, since this goddess also has known associations with bees: her priestesses and initiates were called μέλισσαι,Footnote 18 her daughter Persephone is called Μελιτώδης (Theoc. Id. 15.94), and Callimachus says Δηοῖ … ὕδωρ φορέουσι μέλισσαι (Hymn 2.110).Footnote 19 In this instance Lycophron's choice of the verb describing Zeus bringing water to the soil may have been specifically influenced by the Callimachean image of bees carrying water to Demeter.
Finally, in Nicander's Theriaca the verb τιθαιβώσσω is used of domestic fowl fostering their chicks (195–9):
The verb appears to mean something like ‘nourish’ here.Footnote 21 It is extremely unlikely that this sense is original; in fact, there are several ways of explaining the usage of τιθαιβώσσω in this passage. Most likely, Nicander adopted the verb in this sense directly from Lycoph. Alex. 622 (where the verb is used to refer to nourishment of the fields): at Ther. 401 the poet uses another word from the same passage in the Alexandra—namely, ἀρδηθμός (perhaps Lycophron's own coinage). Nicander's use of τιθαιβώσσω may also be due to his own interpretation of the Homeric verb as ‘they put in (honey = food)’, hence ‘they feed’. Finally, folk etymology may have played a role: the Schol. Nic. Ther. 199 offer a derivation from τυτθὰ βόσκειν (‘nourish youth’), and it is not unreasonable to speculate that Nicander himself may have had this etymology in mind; another possibility is that the poet was thinking about an etymological connection with τιθηνέω (‘tend, foster, raise lovingly’).Footnote 22
This concludes our examination of the passages in which τιθαιβώσσω is attested. While the meaning of the verb in Od. 13.106 is uncertain, passages in later poetry are either directly dependent on the Homeric passage (Pindaric vita) or make an indirect reference to it: the reason both Antimachus and Lycophron use the rare verb τιθαιβώσσω is arguably its association with bees in Homer; Lycophron's usage, in turn, appears to have influenced Nicander. As is often the case in Hellenistic poetry, the choice of a rare lexical item is determined by considerations of intertextuality (with support from folk etymology) and not by its proper lexical meaning which remains unknown.
While it is probable that τιθαιβώσσω had become obsolete by Hellenistic times, it is also possible that the original meaning of the verb had been forgotten much earlier—namely, before Odyssey Book 13 was composed: no longer transparent to the singer, the verse-final phrase τιθαιβώσσουσι μέλισσαι could have been extracted from its original context (no longer available to us) and used in the description of the Cave of the Nymphs simply because the latter featured bees.Footnote 23 The poet of the Odyssey may indeed have thought that the verb meant something like ‘to store (honey)’, just as later commentators believed, even though this was not the etymological meaning of the verb. Such a misunderstanding would not be unprecedented: for instance, the basic meaning of the verb κορύσσω, -ομαι is ‘to put the helmet (κόρυς) on’ and, broadened, ‘to equip with weapons, arm oneself’, but at Il. 4.424 the verb is metaphorically used of a wave (κῦμα θαλάσσης) as it raises its head on the open water (πόντῳ μέν τε πρῶτα κορύσσεται). As Leumann (n. 2), 210 showed, the verb κορύσσεται in this verse was reinterpreted as meaning ‘swells up’ which gave rise to such unexpected usages as in Il. 21.306 κόρυσσε δὲ κῦμα ῥόοιο ‘(Skamandros) was lifting up the wave of his waters’ and Il. 2.273 πόλεμόν τε κορύσσων ‘arousing, stirring up the battle’.Footnote 24 To take another example from Leumann, the noun ἀλαλητός belongs to the same root as ἀλάομαι ‘to wander’, and the etymological meaning can still be discerned in Il. 16.78–9: οἳ δ’ ἀλαλητῷ | πᾶν πεδίον κατέχουσι (‘roaming [around the plain], they [sc. the Trojans] take hold of the entire plain’); since the connection between ἀλαλητός and ἀλάομαι was no longer transparent to the singers and since the immediately preceding lines mention the voice (ὄψ) of Hector, bursting out all round, ἀλαλητός was reinterpreted as meaning ‘war cry’.Footnote 25 In Il. 14.426 and 23.679 we find the verb δουπέω in an unexpected meaning ‘to die’ (vs the usual meaning ‘make a noise’, δοῦπος): Leumann (n. 2), 215–17 plausibly argues that we are dealing here with an epic adaptation of the phrase δούπησεν δὲ πεσών, misunderstood as ‘he fell and died’. Another example is the adjective ἀάατος ‘sunless’, used at Il. 14.271 as an epithet of the rivers of the Styx, and mechanically transferred to Od. 21.91 and 22.5 to qualify the bow-stringing contest simply by virtue of being a sinister epithet related to the Underworld.Footnote 26 If a ‘Leumannsches Missverständnis’Footnote 27 of a similar kind is responsible for the appearance of τιθαιβώσσουσι μέλισσαι at Od. 13.106, we must conclude that we know nothing about the meaning of τιθαιβώσσω except that the verb is used of honeybees; it could refer to any of the insects’ prototypical activities, including buzzing, dancing, collecting pollen and stinging.
III
Having reviewed the avatars of τιθαιβώσσω in Greek literature, we can now turn to the question of its origin. The ancient derivations from τὴν βόσιν τίθεσθαι or τυτθὰ βόσκειν can be safely discarded, and modern scholarship has mostly been agnostic as to the etymology of τιθαιβώσσω.Footnote 28 But even though the verb appears to be entirely isolated in Greek, the rules of word formation in Ancient Greek are known to us rather well, which makes it possible to ‘undo’ the morphological derivation step by step and identify the root of the verb.
Verbs in -ώσσω in Ancient Greek form a minuscule group which becomes even smaller once we set aside those verbs in which -ω- may belong to the root, such as πτώσσω ‘cower, hide for fear’.Footnote 29 The remaining verbs are denominative,Footnote 30 so we might start by entertaining that idea in the case of τιθαιβώσσω. One derivationally clear case among the verbs in -ώσσω is the Homeric ἀγρώσσω ‘catch by hunting’ derived from ἀγρώτης ‘hunter; hunting’:Footnote 31 the sequence -σσ- in ἀγρώσσω is the Ionic outcome of the sequence *-ti̯-. On the strength of this parallel we may posit an agent noun *τιθαιβώτης from which the verb τιθαιβώσσω was derived.Footnote 32
The next step in our linguistic exercise is to determine the possible starting point for the agent noun *τιθαιβώτης. Here the -ω- before the suffix points to a derivation from a contract verb; compare Homeric ἐ(ε)δνωτής ‘matchmaker’ from ἑδνόω ‘betroth’, which leads us to a hypothetical verb *τιθαιβόω.Footnote 33 The verb ὑπνώσσω ‘be sleepy’ next to ὑπνόω ‘sleep’ suggests that we are on the right track, even though the putative intermediate stage *ὑπνώτης happens not to be attested.
Νearly all -όω verbs in Greek are denominative; when they are derived from o-stem adjectives, they have factitive semantics (‘to make X’), for instance ἀλαόω ‘make blind’ from ἀλαός ‘blind’ or ὀρθόω ‘make straight’ from ὀρθός ‘straight’. But there is another type, usually dubbed ‘instrumental’ (‘to make provided with X’, ‘to provide with X’) and derived from o-stem or ā-stem nouns; compare βροτόω ‘make bloody, stain with blood’ from βρότος ‘blood’, πυργόω ‘equip with fortifications’ from πύργος ‘turret’, or χολόω ‘affect with anger’ from χόλος ‘anger’.Footnote 34 If the nominal stem from which reconstructed *τιθαιβόω was derived was an adjective, we have to operate with the factitive type (‘to make *τίθαιβος’); if the derivational basis was a noun *τίθαιβος,Footnote 35 the verb would belong to the ‘instrumental’ type (‘to provide with a *τίθαιβος’). Since we know neither the meaning of Greek τιθαιβώσσω nor the underlying Proto-Indo-European root, the choice between these two options has to be postponed until the next section.
To summarize the argument thus far, the stem formation of τιθαιβώσσω can be plausibly accounted for by positing the following derivational chain: *τίθαιβος (nomen actionis potentially concretized as a nomen rei actae)Footnote 36 → *τιθαιβόω (denominative verb) → *τιθαιβώτης (nomen agentis) → τιθαιβώσσω. Even though the postulated intermediate stages are not attested and we still do not know the meaning of the root, this derivation fully conforms to the laws of Greek word formation.Footnote 37
Given that neither *-βο- nor *-αιβο- are known suffixes in Greek, the only sensible segmentation of our hypothetical nominal stem is *τιθαιβ-ο-. This aligns nicely with the fact that the most common way of making deverbal nouns and adjectives in Greek and Proto-Indo-European was by adding a plain thematic suffix (*-o-) to the verbal root: cf. *leu̯bh-ó- ‘dear, beloved’ (English lief ‘beloved’, Old Russian l'ubъ ‘id.’, Italic *leuφo- ‘desired’ → Oscan loufi[r] ‘or’) from the root *leu̯bh- ‘to love, desire’ (Latin lubēre ‘to be desirable’), *bhei̯dh-ó- ‘trusted’ (Latin fīdus ‘trusty’) from the root *bhei̯dh- ‘to trust’ (Greek πείθω ‘I persuade’, Latin fīdere ‘to have confidence in’), *sróu̯-o- ‘flowing; a flow’ (Greek ῥόος ‘stream’, Vedic srāvaḥ ‘id.’) from the root *sreu̯- ‘to flow’ (Greek ῥέω) or *u̯ói̯k̑-o- ‘settling; a settlement’ (Greek οἶκος ‘house’, Vedic véśaḥ ‘house, brothel’, Latin uīcus ‘village, block of houses’) from the root *u̯ei̯k̑- ‘go inside’ (Vedic viśáti).Footnote 38
This leaves us with *τιθαιβ-, which is clearly too long to be a verbal root. However, verbal nouns can also be derived from characterized stems, including those with reduplication: cf. Greek διδαχή ‘instruction’ (from διδάσκω), ἱστός ‘mast; beam’ (from ἵστημι),Footnote 39 κεκραγμός ‘cry’ (from perfect κέκραγα), ὀπωπή ‘vision’ (from perfect ὄπωπα), or συνεοχμός ‘joining, joint’ (<*-hehokhmó- to the root of συνέχω).Footnote 40 Phonologically, an analysis as a reduplicated stem comes for *τιθαιβ- virtually unbidden, compare τίθημι from *θίθημι (the root θη-/θε-), aorist ἐτύθην from *ἐθύθην (from θύω ‘offer up’), or τιθήνη ‘wet nurse’ from *θιθήνᾱ (from θῆσθαι ‘to suckle’), showing a dissimilation of two aspirated stops (θ … θ > τ … θ).Footnote 41 The stem *τιθαιβ- can thus go back to *θι-θαιβ-, a reduplicated stem made from the root *θαιβ-.
IV
We are now in a position to tackle the question of a possible Indo-European etymology for the root *θαιβ-. The initial *th in the root is unproblematic: in this position it can only go back to Proto-Indo-European (henceforth, PIE) *dh. Things are somewhat more complicated with the final consonant: while Proto-Greek *b may in theory continue PIE *b,Footnote 42 this sound was extraordinarily rare in the proto-language,Footnote 43 while the usual source of Greek β is PIE *gw.Footnote 44 Finally, the vowel *a, too, can only be reconstructed with some amount of certainty in very few cases,Footnote 45 while most instances of Greek α continue a PIE ‘laryngeal’ sound reflected in Hittite as ḫ and usually denoted by the symbol *h2. Greek -αι- therefore in all likelihood goes back to PIE *-eh2i- > *-ah2i- which by the rules of ablaut would be expected to alternate with *-h2i- > *-ih2- (laryngeal metathesis in preconsonantal position)Footnote 46 > *ī.Footnote 47
It remains to put the pieces of the puzzle together and find a PIE root with a meaning compatible with activities of honeybees and the following formal characteristics: initial *dh, final gw and *ai̯ or long *ī in-between. Precisely such root underlies Latin fīgere ‘to insert, fix, pierce’ (infīgere ‘to drive [sharp objects] in’, confīgere ‘to fasten together’, etc.); the inscriptional form FIGIER (inf. pass.) in the Senatus consultum de Bacchanalibus (186 b.c.e., CIL I2 581.27) indicates that the long -ī- in the forms of the Latin verb cannot continue an old diphthong,Footnote 48 while Old Latin fīuere ‘to insert’ (Cat. via Paul. Fest. p. 92 M.)Footnote 49 and the noun fībula ‘pin’ (< *fīu̯ibula < *fīu̯edhla) show that the final consonant of the root goes back to PIE *-gʷ-.Footnote 50 The Latin root therefore continues *dʰīgʷ-.
The same proto-form *dʰīgʷ- < *dʰih2gʷ-Footnote 51 is reflected by Lithuanian díegti / diẽgti ‘to poke, sting, hurt, prick’ (= Latvian diêgt ‘to stab’), įdíegti ‘to sting’,Footnote 52 dygùs ‘prickly’, dýgti ‘sprout, erupt (of teeth)’, dyglỹs ‘thorn’,Footnote 53 Οld Εnglish díc ‘ditch, pit’ (and perhaps Modern English dig), and Old High German dîh ‘moles, gurges’.Footnote 54 All these cognates have in common the idea of sticking a sharp object in by making a hole (hence such meanings as ‘to pierce’, ‘to plant’, ‘to dig’, etc.).
The crucial comparandum is provided by Tocharian AB tsākā-, which means both ‘to bite’ and ‘to pierce’.Footnote 55 Linguistic archaisms preserved in Tocharian as well as common innovations shared by the rest of the Indo-European languages have led scholars to believe that Tocharian languages were the second branch to have separated from the other Indo-European languages after Anatolian (Hittite, Luwian, etc.).Footnote 56 It is therefore quite likely that Tocharian tsākā- preserved the original meaning of the root (‘to bite’), while in other Indo-European languages the meaning of the root was broadened to include piercing, poking, planting and digging.Footnote 57 If Greek τιθαιβώσσω goes back to a PIE root with the meaning ‘to bite’, the connection with bees at Od. 13.106 becomes clear under the theory that the Greek verb originally meant ‘to sting’.Footnote 58
Formally, *dʰih2gʷ- (< *dhh2igw-) is best seen as a zero grade of PIE *dheh2igw-Footnote 59 of the same complex structure as, for example, *gweh2id- > Greek φαιδρός ‘bright’, Lithuanian gaidrùs ‘bright, clear’.Footnote 60 A reduplicated stem *dhi-dheh2igw- ‘to bite’Footnote 61 made from this root would make a plausible point of origin for Proto-Greek *t(h)ithai̯gw-o- ‘act of biting; a bite, a sting’, hence denominative verb *τιθαιβόω ‘to provide with a bite’ → ‘to sting’Footnote 62 from which first an agent noun *τιθαιβώτης ‘stinger, stinging insect’ and then a verb τιθαιβώσσω ‘to sting’ can be derived by familiar sound laws and rules of word formation.
V
The zero grade *dʰīgʷ- (< *dʰih2gʷ-) ‘pierce, bite’ attested in Latin, Germanic, Baltic and Tocharian may also be reflected in Greek: *dʰīgʷ- is expected to give *tʰīb- and this is exactly what we find in the adjective θιβρόςFootnote 63 attested only in Hellenistic poets and in personal names.Footnote 64 The etymology of this word is unknown and its meaning is unclear.Footnote 65 It will be appropriate to start with the two passages from Nicander where we have sufficient context (Ther. 35, Alex. 554–6):
A scholium on Nic. Ther. 35a (Crugnola) translates θιβρός as ‘hot’ and presumably for this reason Gow and Schofield (n. 20 above) translate θιβρὴν κῆρα as ‘hot doom’.Footnote 67 But just as in the case of τιθαιβώσσω, there is no reliance on the ancient tradition: the paraphrase ‘hot’ may simply be due to the similarity of θιβρός to both θερμός and τέφρᾱ. For ὤεα θιβρὰ χελύνης in the Alexipharmaca Gow and Schofield choose ‘delicate eggs of the tortoise’,Footnote 68 possibly based on Hsch. θ 580 (Latte–Cunningham) θιβρόν⋅ τρυφερόν and perhaps on the fact that turtle eggs tend to be very pliable.Footnote 69
It is a priori not very likely that the poet used the same word in two such divergent senses as ‘hot’ and ‘delicate’. Now that the possibility of deriving θιβρός from the same root as τιθαιβώσσω ‘sting’ has been recognized, an alternative interpretation comes virtually unbidden: the meaning of θιβρός may have been ‘stinging, biting, mordant’, something equally well-suited for sharp pain caused by snake's venom and for slightly sharp, piquant taste of turtle eggs.Footnote 70
If the word θιβρός belonged to the same semantic field as ὀξύς, δριμύς, or πικρός and referred to various unpleasant sensory experiences, the use of the word in two more Hellenistic fragments becomes clear. The same scholium on Nic. Ther. 35a cites Callim. fr. 654 Pfeiffer θιβρῆς Κύπριδος ἁρμονίηςFootnote 71 and Euphorion, fr. 115 Lightfoot θιβρήν τε Σεμίραμιν.Footnote 72 Arena (n. 64 above) aptly compared the Callimachean fragment with Empedocles' fr. 122.2 DK Ἁρμονίη θεμερῶπις and marshalled other arguments in favour of the view that for Hellenistic poets the word θιβρός was confused with and influenced by another rare word θεμερός ‘solemn, august, venerable’. This is in principle possible, but a more economical solution would be to accept that in these two fragments Aphrodite and Semiramis are described as ‘stinging’, ‘biting’, or ‘bitter’. Both the goddess and the queen are emblematic of Eros,Footnote 73 and it requires no detailed substantiation that for Greeks Eros could be stinging or bitter: one only needs to think of Sappho's Ἔρος … γλυκύπικρον (fr. 130 Voigt)Footnote 74 or Aeschylus’ δηξίθυμον ἔρωτος ἄνθος ‘heart-stinging flower of love’ (Ag. 743).Footnote 75 It may even be possible to go a bit further and surmise that the word θιβρός carried the specific connotation of bee sting: for Eros imagined as a honey-bee flitting about the flowers, cf. ποτ᾿ εὗρον | ἐν τοῖς ῥόδοις Ἔρωτα ‘once I found Eros among the roses’ (Anac. 6.1–2 West),Footnote 76 and a specific association between sting of love and sting of a bee is a common topos in post-Classical Greek poetry.Footnote 77
Hesychius’ lexicon offers a long series of interpretamenta for θιβρός, of which the one that does not seem to come from ancient exegesis on Callimachus, Euphorion, or Nicander offers additional support for the hypothesis put forth in this paragraph: θιβρήν⋅ … τινὲς δὲ χαλεπήν ‘according to some: painful’ (θ 579 Latte–Cunningham).
From a linguistic viewpoint, θιβρός ‘stinging’ (< *tʰīgʷro- < *dʰih2gʷ-ro-) forms a perfect counterpart to τιθαιβώσσω ‘sting’ (< *t(ʰ)itʰai̯gʷ- < *dʰi-dʰeh2igʷ-); the ablaut relationship between zero-grade allomorph *dʰih2gʷ- and full-grade allomorph *dʰeh2igʷ- is the same as between λιλαίομαι ‘desire’ (quasi *li-leh2i-) and λῑρός ‘shameless’ (< *lih2-ro- ‘desirous’) discussed in n. 47 above.
VI
So what is the meaning of τιθαιβώσσουσι μέλισσαι at Od. 13.106? As I suggested at the end of section III, it is entirely possible that this phrase was adopted from a hexametrical verse in which it was used in its original sense ‘honeybees sting’, but this meaning was no longer known to the poet of the Odyssey, who may have thought instead that the phrase meant ‘honeybees deposit (honey)’, assuming that τιθαιβώσσουσι was somehow a form of the same root as τίθημι. This is the ‘Leumannsches Missverständnis’ theory. But there is another option which, to me, appears more intriguing: the sense of τιθαιβώσσω intended by the poet of the Odyssey may have been precisely ‘to sting’. The description of the Cave of the Nymphs cited in the beginning of this paper continues by saying that οὐδέ τι κείνῃ | ἄνδρες ἐσέρχονται, ἀλλ’ ἀθανάτων ὁδός ἐστιν ‘and men never enter by it, since it is a path of the immortals’ (Od. 13.111–12). The bees sting mortals but not the gods.