Beethoven – Septet, Opus 20
Richibi’s Weblog
Just another WordPress.com weblog
Category: in search of truth
March 18, 2021
“The Birth of Bacchus” (lll) – Ovid
“Semele” (1921)
John Duncan
____
To keep his promise he ascends,
his promise, Jove / Jupiter / Zeus
had sworn by very Styx, if you’ll
remember, to Semele, his current
inamorata, that when next he[‘d]
court[ ] the rites of love, he’d
descend in those celestial charms
with which he enters Juno / Hera‘s
chambers, his goddess / wife, on
similar intimate occasions
and shrowds
His awful brow in whirl-winds and in clouds;
shrowds, shrouds, covers in
darkness, shields
awful, inspiring awe, inspiring
consternation
Whilst all around, in terrible array,
His thunders rattle, and his light’nings play.
not only does Jove / Jupiter / Zeus
shrowd[ ] /His awful brow, which is
to say he actively effects changes,
consciously and manifestly producing
identifiable outcomes, a shrouded brow,
in this instance, but he also inspires the
very elements, thunders rattle …
light’nings play, to rally round his
enterprise
And yet, the dazling lustre to abate,
He set not out in all his pomp and state,
And yet, except that, Jove / Jupiter
/ Zeus chooses, set[s] … out, to rein
in, abate, elements of his pomp and
state, of his magnificence
Clad in the mildest light’ning of the skies,
And arm’d with thunder of the smallest size:
Not those huge bolts, by which the giants slain
Lay overthrown on the Phlegrean plain.
‘Twas of a lesser mould, and lighter weight;
Phlegrean plain, Phlegraean, site of the
war that won for the Olympians, Jove /
Jupiter / Zeus, Juno / Hera, and the
pantheon of other gods with whom
we’ve here become acquainted, control
of the cosmos, against the Titans, who’d
earlier ruled, the children of Uranus,
Sky, and Gaia, Earth, though that’s
an entirely other, earlier story, equally
entrancing
They call it thunder of a second-rate,
For the rough Cyclops, who by Jove’s command
Temper’d the bolt, and turn’d it to his hand,
Cyclops, any of the three Cyclopes,
Arges, Brontes, and Steropes, or in
English translation, Bright, Thunder,
and Lightning, sons of Uranus and
Gaia, one-eyed giants, who
manufactured Jove / Jupiter /
Zeus‘s thunderbolts
Cyclops here is probably Cyclopes,
this translation‘s early 18th-Century
spelling of the now singular “Cyclops”,
all of whom [t]emper’d the bolt, and
turn’d … to his hand Jove / Jupiter /
Zeus‘s commissioned arsenal
Work’d up less flame and fury in its make,
And quench’d it sooner in the standing lake.
this particular thunderbolt therefore
would have been less menacing, in
keeping with Jove / Jupiter / Zeus‘s
wish his dazling lustre to abate
Thus dreadfully adorn’d, with horror bright,
Th’ illustrious God, descending from his height,
Came rushing on her in a storm of light.
I knew someone who came to me
like that once
The mortal dame, too feeble to engage
The lightning’s flashes, and the thunder’s rage,
Consum’d amidst the glories she desir’d,
And in the terrible embrace expir’d.
I broke only into a thousand million
pieces, did not expire, but ruefully,
rather, survived, but that’s another
story, perhaps too intimate
But, to preserve his offspring from the tomb,
his offspring, you’ll remember that
Semele was pregnant with Jove /
Jupiter / Zeus‘s child
Jove took him smoaking from the blasted womb:
blasted, destroyed, [c]onsum’d[,]
amidst the glories she desir’d
see above
And, if on ancient tales we may rely,
Inclos’d th’ abortive infant in his thigh.
in order to allow it to complete
gestation, Jove / Jupiter / Zeus
incubated th’ abortive infant in
his [own] thigh
Here when the babe had all his time fulfill’d,
Here, in his thigh
Ino first took him for her foster-child;
Ino, sister of Semele, with too long
a story here, however fascinating
Then the Niseans, in their dark abode,
Niseans, Nysians, of Nysa, a
mountainous mythical land
beyond Greece, with dark
abode[s], caves, among its
mountains, presumably
Nurs’d secretly with milk the thriving God.
the thriving God, Bacchus, the Roman
Dionysus, god of wine, merriment, and
all kinds of mischievousness, which is
to say bacchanals, Dionysian revelries,
orgies
stay tuned
R ! chard
March 4, 2021
“The Birth of Bacchus” (ll)– Ovid
“Jupiter and Semele” (1889 – 1895)
Gustave Moreau
_________
Old Beroe’s decrepit shape she wears,
Her wrinkled visage, and her hoary hairs;
Old Beroe, faithful servant of Semele
she, Juno / Hera, goddess
hoary hairs, love it
Whilst in her trembling gait she totters on,
And learns to tattle in the nurse’s tone.
Juno / Hera transforms herself into
Old Beroe, tattl[ing], talking idly, in
the nurse’s tone, impersonating her
in order to seek revenge, if you’ll
remember, on Semele, for bearing
her husband’s progeny
The Goddess, thus disguis’d in age, beguil’d
With pleasing stories her false foster-child.
foster-child, a child who is fostered,
nurtured, by someone other than a
parent, Semele, by Old Beroe,
purportedly, in this instance
false, Juno / Hera is not Old Beroe,
but the nurse’s duplicitous, false,
in both senses of the word here,
double
beguil’d, enchanted, amused
Much did she talk of love, and when she came
To mention to the nymph her lover’s name,
Fetching a sigh, and holding down her head,
“‘Tis well,” says she, “if all be true that’s said.
Juliet’s nurse from Romeo and Juliet,
I thought, meets Sleeping Beauty’s
wicked stepmother, for a more
contemporary coupling
But trust me, child, I’m much inclin’d to fear
Some counterfeit in this your Jupiter:
Some counterfeit, yourJupiter is not
your [actual] Jupiter, Juno / Hera
suggests
Many an honest well-designing maid
Has been by these pretended Gods betray’d,
well-designing, without guile, with
no ulterior motive
pretended Gods, men who unjustifiably
beat their chest, tell tall tales, unequal
to their proclaimed accomplishments
But if he be indeed the thund’ring Jove,
Bid him, when next he courts the rites of love,
Descend triumphant from th’ etherial sky,
In all the pomp of his divinity,
Encompass’d round by those celestial charms,
With which he fills th’ immortal Juno’s arms.”
Juno / Hera, as Old Beroe, tells Semele
to ask her lover, when next he courts
the rites of love, to prove he is indeed
Jove / Jupiter / Zeus, to dress
appropriately
Encompass’d round, accoutred,
enveloped, in
the pomp, incidentally, the splendour
of his divinity, take on a couple of
extra poetic lines, verses, indicative
of that very splendour
note also that Semele seems to have
no qualms about Jove / Jupiter / Zeus‘s
marital status, about bearing the child
of another woman’s man, indeed that
of a very, in this instance, goddess,
the redoubtable Juno / Hera
Th’ unwary nymph, ensnar’d with what she said,
ensnar’d, ensnarled, caught up in
Desir’d of Jove, when next he sought her bed,
To grant a certain gift which she would chuse;
Desir’d of, asked of, requested of
chuse, choose
“Fear not,” reply’d the God, “that I’ll refuse
Whate’er you ask: may Styx confirm my voice,
Chuse what you will, and you shall have your choice.”
Styx, goddess of the river Styx, which
forms the boundary between Earth and
the Underworld, had sided with Jove /
Jupiter / Zeus during the War of the
Titans and been granted by him that
oaths should henceforth all be sworn
upon her, and be punctiliously observed
Phoebus / Apollo had similarly granted
his own son Phaeton his wish upon very
Styx, if you’ll remember, with the direst,
for both, of consequences
“Then,” says the nymph, “when next you seek my arms,
May you descend in those celestial charms,
And fill with transport Heav’n’s immortal dame.”
show me, Semele asks of her suitor,
what she gets, what Juno / Hera gets,
when next you seek my arms
go, girl, I thought, if you’re going
to be irreverent
The God surpriz’d would fain have stopp’d her voice,
But he had sworn, and she had made her choice.
on very Styx, he’d sworn, ever so
perilously
stay tuned
R ! chard
February 13, 2021
“The Birth of Bacchus” – Ovid
“Juno” (c.1662 – c.1665)
Rembrandt
______
Actaeon’s suff’rings, and Diana’s rage,
Did all the thoughts of men and Gods engage;
Some call’d the evils which Diana wrought,
Too great, and disproportion’d to the fault:
Others again, esteem’d Actaeon’s woes
Fit for a virgin Goddess to impose.
The hearers into diff’rent parts divide,
And reasons are produc’d on either side.
Diana / Artemis had transformed
Actaeon into a stag, if you’ll
remember, not all the gods were
on side
Juno alone, of all that heard the news,
Nor would condemn the Goddess, nor excuse:
Juno, wife of Jove / Jupiter / Zeus,
queen, therefore, of the gods
She heeded not the justice of the deed,
But joy’d to see the race of Cadmus bleed;
Cadmus, founder of Thebes, brother
of Europa
For still she kept Europa in her mind,
And, for her sake, detested all her kind.
Europa had been whisked away
by Jove / Jupiter / Zeus, Juno’s
husband, and borne him several
children, to the enduring enmity
of the queen of the deities
Besides, to aggravate her hate, she heard
How Semele, to Jove’s embrace preferr’d,
Was now grown big with an immortal load,
And carry’d in her womb a future God.
Jove / Jupiter / Zeus, incorrigible
philanderer apparently, had now
impregnated Semele, youngest
daughter of Cadmus, to Juno’s
utter disgust and dismay
Thus terribly incens’d, the Goddess broke
To sudden fury, and abruptly spoke.
the Goddess, Juno / Hera
let me reiterate here that the original
gods and goddesses of Olympus had
migrated with the Greeks to other
areas of the Mediterranean, but
became known, in the lands that
they’d settled, by other names
according to the languages and
customs that evolved in these new
territories, thus the Greek goddess
Hera was in Rome and its outlying
areas known as Juno, the Greek
Zeus as both Jupiter and Jove,
though their home remained for
all Mount Olympus
“Are my reproaches of so small a force?
‘Tis time I then pursue another course:
though Juno / Hera might’ve
harangued Jove / Jupiter / Zeus
about his inveterate philandering,
her reproaches were not enough
to stop the god from his
determined activities
she therefore ordains
It is decreed the guilty wretch shall die,
If I’m indeed the mistress of the sky,
If rightly styl’d among the Pow’rs above
The wife and sister of the thund’ring Jove
(And none can sure a sister’s right deny);
It is decreed the guilty wretch shall die.
Juno / Hera is not only the wife of
Jove / Jupiter / Zeus, but also his
sister, both children of Cronos /
Saturn and Rhea / Ops, who
were themselves children of the
earth goddess Gaia and the sky
god Uranus
She boasts an honour I can hardly claim,
Pregnant she rises to a mother’s name;
While proud and vain she triumphs in her Jove,
And shows the glorious tokens of his love:
though Juno / Hera did indeed have
children with Jove / Jupiter / Zeus,
she is probably no longer here
bearing him any, I am supposing,
while Semele, proud and vain, is
now show[ing] the glorious tokens
of his love
But if I’m still the mistress of the skies,
By her own lover the fond beauty dies.”
it appears that Juno / Hera will
contrive to make Jove / Jupiter
/ Zeus the cause of Semele’s
demise
This said, descending in a yellow cloud,
Before the gates of Semele she stood.
Semele, priestess of Jove / Jupiter
/ Zeus, would’ve been officiating at
the Cadmeia, the equivalent of the
Athenian Acropolis, at Thebes, the
city named after her father, its
founder, Cadmus
sparks will surely fly
stay tuned
R ! chard
February 3, 2021
“The Transformation of Actaeon into a Stag” (ll) – Ovid
____________
Now all undrest the shining Goddess stood,
When young Actaeon, wilder’d in the wood,
wilder’d in the wood, wandered
in the wild, in the forest
To the cool grott by his hard fate betray’d,
grott, grotto
betray’d, treacherously confronted,
his hard fate would not be on his
side for this one
The fountains fill’d with naked nymphs survey’d.
survey’d, observed, espied,
considered, contemplated
The frighted virgins shriek’d at the surprize
(The forest echo’d with their piercing cries).
listen, you can hear it
Then in a huddle round their Goddess prest:
She, proudly eminent above the rest,
With blushes glow’d; such blushes as adorn
The ruddy welkin, or the purple morn;
ruddy welkin, red sky, as at sunset
And tho’ the crowding nymphs her body hide,
Half backward shrunk, and view’d him from a side.
Surpriz’d, at first she would have snatch’d her bow,
But sees the circling waters round her flow;
These in the hollow of her hand she took,
And dash’d ’em in his face, while thus she spoke:
These, ’em, the circling waters
“Tell, if thou can’st, the wond’rous sight disclos’d,
A Goddess naked to thy view expos’d.”
not a warning here, but a curse, if thou
can’st being the operative expression,
for Actaeon, now in the process of
transformation, will no longer be able
to utter words
This said, the man begun to disappear
By slow degrees, and ended in a deer.
begun, began
A rising horn on either brow he wears,
And stretches out his neck, and pricks his ears;
Rough is his skin, with sudden hairs o’er-grown,
His bosom pants with fears before unknown:
the skittishness of a deer
Transform’d at length, he flies away in haste,
And wonders why he flies away so fast.
how did I do that, Actaeon wonders
But as by chance, within a neighb’ring brook,
He saw his branching horns and alter’d look.
his reflection, however by chance,
however inadvertently, in the water,
the neighb’ring brook, reveals to him
his transformation, his metamorphosis
Wretched Actaeon! in a doleful tone
He try’d to speak, but only gave a groan;
And as he wept, within the watry glass
the watry glass, the mirroring rivulet,
rill, waterway, brook
He saw the big round drops, with silent pace,
Run trickling down a savage hairy face.
the association with Bambi here for
me is inescapable, however grim
might be later Actaeon’s own fate
What should he do? Or seek his old abodes,
Or herd among the deer, and sculk in woods!
Here shame dissuades him, there his fear prevails,
And each by turns his aking heart assails.
something like the onset of puberty,
I think, that frightful fundamental
biological transformation, the fear,
the shame, remember
compare Calisto pregnant before the
very same goddess, Diana / Artemis,
incidentally, the evidently unforgiving
deity before anything but unsullied
modesty, before uncompromised
chastity, who’s presently, consider,
condemning Actaeon
As he thus ponders, he behind him spies
His op’ning hounds, and now he hears their cries:
op’ning, advancing
A gen’rous pack, or to maintain the chace,
Or snuff the vapour from the scented grass.
or to … Or, either to … Or
maintain the chace … snuff the vapour,
dogs doing what dogs do
He bounded off with fear, and swiftly ran
O’er craggy mountains, and the flow’ry plain;
Through brakes and thickets forc’d his way, and flew
Through many a ring, where once he did pursue.
brakes, bracken, brush
a ring, a territory, a circumscribed
area
where once he did pursue, Actaeon
had earlier been not the hunted, but
the hunter
In vain he oft endeavour’d to proclaim
His new misfortune, and to tell his name;
Nor voice nor words the brutal tongue supplies;
“Tell, if thou can’st, Diana / Artemis
had warned, and now [n]or voice
nor words the brutal tongue supplies,
allows, Actaeon, to speak
From shouting men, and horns, and dogs he flies,
Deafen’d and stunn’d with their promiscuous cries.
promiscuous, unleashed,
unconstrained
When now the fleetest of the pack, that prest
Close at his heels, and sprung before the rest,
Had fasten’d on him, straight another pair,
Hung on his wounded haunch, and held him there,
‘Till all the pack came up, and ev’ry hound
Tore the sad huntsman grov’ling on the ground,
Who now appear’d but one continu’d wound.
the attack
With dropping tears his bitter fate he moans,
And fills the mountain with his dying groans.
His servants with a piteous look he spies,
And turns about his supplicating eyes.
His servants, the jolly huntsmen, the
friends he’d advised to [t]ake the cool
morning to renew the chace
His servants, ignorant of what had chanc’d,
what had chanc’d, the transformation,
the metamorphosis, Actaeon become
a stag
With eager haste and joyful shouts advanc’d,
And call’d their lord Actaeon to the game.
Actaeon seemed to them not there,
absent
He shook his head in answer to the name;
he couldn’t speak, could only [shake]
his head
He heard, but wish’d he had indeed been gone,
gone, away, in another place, as [h]is
servants thought him to be
Or only to have stood a looker-on.
a looker-on, observing rather than
having been the centre, the subject
of the situation
But to his grief he finds himself too near,
too near, indeed present, central,
in the very thick of the fray
And feels his rav’nous dogs with fury tear
Their wretched master panting in a deer.
Actaeon doesn’t survive this
transformation, nor is he
transmuted, like so many others
who’d displeased the gods, into
sets of stars, or constellations
a recurring theme seems to be,
as the poem advances, how
arbitrary the fate of humans is
in the hands of the, apparently
capricious, gods
to follow
R ! chard
January 25, 2021
“The Transformation of Actaeon into a Stag” – Ovid
“The Bath of Diana” (1855)
Camille Corot
_____
In a fair chace a shady mountain stood,
chace, chase
a fair chace, not far away
Well stor’d with game, and mark’d with trails of blood;
Here did the huntsmen, ’till the heat of day,
Pursue the stag, and load themselves with rey:
rey, probably prey, cause rey is not
a word, and ray instead of rey would
lead to inanities, improbabilities, lead
to hunters, huntsmen, bearing branches,
or stalks, of flowers at best, at worst,
bolts of light
When thus Actaeon calling to the rest:
Actaeon, grandson of Cadmus,
founder of Thebes
“My friends,” said he, “our sport is at the best,
The sun is high advanc’d, and downward sheds
His burning beams directly on our heads;
let’s take a break, Actaeon says, it’s
midday, too hot, it’s scorching
Then by consent abstain from further spoils,
Call off the dogs, and gather up the toils,
And ere to-morrow’s sun begins his race,
Take the cool morning to renew the chace.”
we’ve gathered sufficient quarry, he
continues, let’s wait until to-morrow,
for the cool[er] morning, in order to
renew the chace
They all consent, and in a chearful train
The jolly huntsmen, loaden with the slain,
Return in triumph from the sultry plain.
loaden, laden
the slain, the spoils from the hunt
Down in a vale with pine and cypress clad,
Refresh’d with gentle winds, and brown with shade,
The chaste Diana’s private haunt, there stood
Diana / Artemis, goddess of the Hunt,
and of the Moon
Full in the centre of the darksome wood
A spacious grotto, all around o’er-grown
With hoary moss, and arch’d with pumice-stone.
see above
From out its rocky clefts the waters flow,
And trickling swell into a lake below.
Nature had ev’ry where so plaid her part,
That ev’ry where she seem’d to vie with art.
to vie, to contend, to curry for
position, favour
Here the bright Goddess, toil’d and chaf’d with heat,
Was wont to bathe her in the cool retreat.
Here did she now with all her train resort,
Panting with heat, and breathless from the sport;
Her armour-bearer laid her bow aside,
Some loos’d her sandals, some her veil unty’d;
Each busy nymph her proper part undrest;
While Crocale, more handy than the rest,
Gather’d her flowing hair, and in a noose
Bound it together, whilst her own hung loose.
Crocale, one of Diana’s nymphs
Five of the more ignoble sort by turns
Fetch up the water, and unlade the urns.
ignoble, not noble, lacking authority,
pedigree, courtly experience
unlade, empty
an idyll about to unravel
stay tuned
R ! chard
January 15, 2021
“The Story of of Cadmus” (V) – Ovid
“Minerva or Pallas Athena” (1898)
Gustav Klimt
______
an interesting thing has happened with
the story of Cadmus, he is not only a
mythical figure, but also a legendary
one, which is to say that Cadmus has
roots in actual history, he’s not just an
imaginary construct like those that
until now have peopled Ovid’s text
Cadmus appears to have actually
founded Thebes, whose origins,
however, are lost in antiquity, going
back to, it appears, the late Bronze
Age, around 2000 BC, goodness
stories evidently grew around
Cadmus, that transformed him into
our first documented hero, indeed
superhero
counterparts exist in other traditions,
consider David, for instance, who
slew his own dragon, Goliath, before
becoming king of the Israelites, 10th
Century BCE, at Jerusalem, where
he consorted, incidentally, later, with
Bathsheba, however illicitly, but
that’s another story
King Arthur, late 5th to early 6th
Centuries CE, stems from British
lore, though his historical actuality
has been contested, is also a hero
with preternatural capabilities based
on some historical accountability
in our day, there’s James Bond,
based on real, living and breathing,
personalities
or, dare I say, even Jesus
the point here is that actual people
are being included in the, however
culturally specific, mythologies,
which, in each, had earlier consisted
of metaphorical constructs merely,
the concept of History, in other words,
was being born, memorable events
were to be remembered, recorded,
documented, if only, originally, orally,
around, say, campfires, however
aggrandized might have been their
recollected heroes
Cadmus, meanwhile, in our story, is
about to establish his own historical,
and archeologically confirmed, note,
credentials
The dire example ran through all the field,
‘Till heaps of brothers were by brothers kill’d;
The dire example, the dragon’s teeth,
grown into men, had begun, if you’ll
remember, to slaughter one another
example, display
The furrows swam in blood: and only five
Of all the vast increase were left alive.
Echion one, at Pallas’s command,
Let fall the guiltless weapon from his hand,
Echion, one of the five surviving
brothers
Pallas, Pallas Athena, goddess of
Wisdom, also of War
see above
And with the rest a peaceful treaty makes,
Whom Cadmus as his friends and partners takes;
the rest, the four other survivors
So founds a city on the promis’d earth,
And gives his new Boeotian empire birth.
promis’d earth, the premonition of
the oracles whose counsel Cadmus
had sought at Delphi, if you’ll
remember
Here Cadmus reign’d; and now one would have guess’d
The royal founder in his exile blest:
his exile, from Tyre, Cadmus’ original
home, from which his father, Agenor,
had sent him, not to return, he’d
warned, without his sister, Europa
Long did he live within his new abodes,
Ally’d by marriage to the deathless Gods;
Ally’d by marriage, at the end of a
period of penance for having killed
the dragon, which had been sacred
to Ares, god of War, the gods gave
Cadmus Harmonia, goddess of
Concord, to be his wife
Ares would eventually exact mighty
vengeance, but that’s another story
And, in a fruitful wife’s embraces old,
A long increase of children’s children told:
But no frail man, however great or high,
Can be concluded blest before he die.
even Cadmus, though he might
enjoy a long life, and many, a long
increase of, children, is not immune
to any of the vicissitudes of life either
until his own time has come, the poet
advises, however ominously
and here Ovid also introduces the
subject of his next metamorphosis,
Actaeon, however early, luring us
thereby, deftly, literarily, towards
his next instalment, Actaeon’s
story, eponymously, there, given
its title
Actaeon was the first of all his race,
Who griev’d his grandsire in his borrow’d face;
Condemn’d by stern Diana to bemoan
The branching horns, and visage not his own;
his grandsire, his grandfather,
Cadmus was the father of Autonoë,
who was the mother of Actaeon
borrow’d face, Actaeon was
transformed into a stag by the
goddess Diana / Artemis, of the
Hunt, of the Moon, of Chastity,
for having seen her naked as
she was bathing
he now has the face, the visage, of
someone, something, he hadn’t
been before, borrow’d
To shun his once lov’d dogs, to bound away,
And from their huntsman to become their prey,
having been transformed into a
stag, or metamorphized, Actaeon
would end up hunted, and worse,
by his own, once lov’d, dogs
And yet consider why the change was wrought,
You’ll find it his misfortune, not his fault;
Or, if a fault, it was the fault of chance:
For how can guilt proceed from ignorance?
to have been at the wrong place
at the wrong time, yet to suffer,
however unfairly, the consequences,
that, Ovid asks, is the question, the
conundrum
stay tuned
R ! chard
December 31, 2020
“The Story of of Cadmus” (lV) – Ovid
“Cadmus Sowing the Dragon’s Teeth” (1610/1690)
Peter Paul Rubens
___________
Cadmus beheld him wallow in a flood
Of swimming poison, intermix’d with blood;
swimming poison, the venom the
dragon had spewed, intermix’d
with blood, after Cadmus had
struck the beast with his jav’lin,
if you’ll remember
When suddenly a speech was heard from high
(The speech was heard, nor was the speaker nigh),
the suggestion here is that the voice
is disincarnate, ethereal, otherworldly,
from high, not nigh
“Why dost thou thus with secret pleasure see,
Insulting man! what thou thy self shalt be?”
secret pleasure, the self-satisfaction
of the soul, unspoken
what thou thy self shalt be, a prophecy
as cryptic as oracular pronouncements
ever tended to be,also ever ominous
Astonish’d at the voice, he stood amaz’d,
And all around with inward horror gaz’d:
all around, the detritus, the waste, the
ravages that surrounded him, that
Cadmus viewed, gaz’d at, amaz’d …
with inward horror
When Pallas swift descending from the skies,
Pallas, the guardian of the bold and wise,
Pallas, the goddess Athena, of Wisdom,
of War, bold and wise patroness,
protectress of, among other Greek
cities, incidentally, Athens, site of, on
the Acropolis there, the Parthenon,
her temple
Bids him plow up the field, and scatter round
The dragon’s teeth o’er all the furrow’d ground;
we’ve seen this happen before, if you’ll
remember, with Deucalion and Pyrrha,
casting the stones, their mighty mother‘s
bones, to replenish, after the flood, the
resurgent Earth with people
Then tells the youth how to his wond’ring eyes
Embattled armies from the field should rise.
wond’ring, startled
He sows the teeth at Pallas’s command,
And flings the future people from his hand.
The clods grow warm, and crumble where he sows;
Cadmus is sow[ing] people, future
people, however, apparently, military,
at the command of the goddess, but
Pallas, remember, is goddess of War,
these metamorphosizing, ahem,
entities would be her progeny, her
spawn
And now the pointed spears advance in rows;
Now nodding plumes appear, and shining crests,
Now the broad shoulders and the rising breasts;
O’er all the field the breathing harvest swarms,
A growing host, a crop of men and arms.
an army – listen, this is how I think
Shostakovich would’ve heard it,
from his 7th Symphony, the
Leningrad, its first movement, a
searing allegretto, a movement
he’d initially entitled War before
deciding against it
here’s the entire symphony, should
you be, and I highly recommend it,
into it, a much more convincing, to
my mind, production, however
significantly extended
So through the parting stage a figure rears
Its body up, and limb by limb appears
By just degrees; ’till all the man arise,
And in his full proportion strikes the eyes.
as each of the teeth develops, grow[s]
warm, as each figure rears … and limb
by limb appears, men arise, recognizable
as such, each in his full proportion
Cadmus surpriz’d, and startled at the sight
Of his new foes, prepar’d himself for fight:
When one cry’d out, “Forbear, fond man, forbear
To mingle in a blind promiscuous war.”
forbear, hold on, desist, stop
promiscuous, indiscriminate
This said, he struck his brother to the ground,
Himself expiring by another’s wound;
Nor did the third his conquest long survive,
Dying ere scarce he had begun to live.
the new foes are slaughtering each
other, Cadmus doesn’t have to lift
a finger
what’s up
stay tuned
R ! chard
December 20, 2020
“The Story of of Cadmus” (lll) – Ovid
“Cadmus Slays the Dragon“
Hendrick Goltzius
__________
And now the scorching sun was mounted high,
In all its lustre, to the noon-day sky;
When, anxious for his friends, and fill’d with cares,
To search the woods th’ impatient chief prepares.
th’ impatient chief, Cadmus, prince of
Tyre, had sen[t] his servants to a
neighb’ring grove / For living streams,
if you’ll remember, a sacrifice to Jove,
to thank that god for these new
dominions, their new home
A lion’s hide around his loins he wore,
The well poiz’d javelin to the field he bore,
Inur’d to blood; the far-destroying dart;
And, the best weapon, an undaunted heart.
Cadmus here is a precursor of the
mythologically later Heracles, or
Herakles, or Hercules in Latin, a
hero, which is to say descended
from the gods, in that latter’s case,
son of Jove / Zeus / Jupiter, the
very deity who’d just abducted
Europa, Cadmus‘ sister, mother
of all Europeans, divine or human
Soon as the youth approach’d the fatal place,
He saw his servants breathless on the grass;
breathless, not breathing,
deceased
The scaly foe amid their corps he view’d,
Basking at ease, and feasting in their blood.
The scaly foe, the dragon
corps, corpses
“Such friends,” he cries, “deserv’d a longer date;
a longer date, a longer life, a more
extended period of existence
But Cadmus will revenge or share their fate.”
either [t]he scaly foe will die, the
dragon, or Cadmus himself, in the
attempt to avenge his friends, his
servants breathless on the grass,
he promises
Then heav’d a stone, and rising to the throw,
He sent it in a whirlwind at the foe:
in a whirlwind, taking advantage
of a meteorological condition, as
one would a kite
A tow’r, assaulted by so rude a stroke,
With all its lofty battlements had shook;
a tower would’ve swayed at so
powerful a strike, I remember
an earthquake once rocking my
own high rise apartment building
for an unnerving moment before
settling, returning the ground,
my ground, to its, otherwise
imperturbable, placidity
But nothing here th’ unwieldy rock avails,
Rebounding harmless from the plaited scales,
That, firmly join’d, preserv’d him from a wound,
With native armour crusted all around.
native, integral, a constituent
part of
With more success, the dart unerring flew,
the dart, the javelin
Which at his back the raging warriour threw;
the raging warriour, Cadmus
Amid the plaited scales it took its course,
And in the spinal marrow spent its force.
The monster hiss’d aloud, and rag’d in vain,
And writh’d his body to and fro with pain;
He bit the dart, and wrench’d the wood away;
The point still buried in the marrow lay.
And now his rage, increasing with his pain,
Reddens his eyes, and beats in ev’ry vein;
Churn’d in his teeth the foamy venom rose,
Whilst from his mouth a blast of vapours flows,
Such as th’ infernal Stygian waters cast.
Stygian, of the River Styx, which
forms the boundary between the
Earth and the Underworld, named
after the Goddess Styx, daughter
of Tethys and Oceanus, god, and
river also, which encircled the
entire world
The plants around him wither in the blast.
Now in a maze of rings he lies enrowl’d,
enrowl’d, encircled, surrounded
Now all unravel’d, and without a fold;
without a fold, without a hitch, without
an intervening obstacle
Now, like a torrent, with a mighty force
Bears down the forest in his boist’rous course.
Bears down the forest, advances,
like a torrent, against the wall of
trees
Cadmus gave back, and on the lion’s spoil
Sustain’d the shock, then forc’d him to recoil;
gave back, drew back, backed
away, forc’d … to recoil
the lion’s spoil, the dragon’s
venom and its gore
The pointed jav’lin warded off his rage:
the dragon readies for the onslaught,
overcoming his, otherwise consuming
rage, at the sight of [t]he pointed jav’lin
Mad with his pains, and furious to engage,
The serpent champs the steel, and bites the spear,
Till blood and venom all the point besmear.
But still the hurt he yet receiv’d was slight;
For, whilst the champion with redoubled might
Strikes home the jav’lin, his retiring foe
Shrinks from the wound, and disappoints the blow.
the jav’lin is still no match for the,
however wounded, dragon
The dauntless heroe still pursues his stroke,
And presses forward, ’till a knotty oak
Retards his foe, and stops him in the rear;
retards, stops, inhibits
Full in his throat he plung’d the fatal spear,
That in th’ extended neck a passage found,
And pierc’d the solid timber through the wound.
the fatal spear has pierc’d not
only th’ extended neck, but also
the knotty oak behind it, which
had prevented the dragon from
moving onward toward his
escape
Fix’d to the reeling trunk, with many a stroke
Of his huge tail he lash’d the sturdy oak;
‘Till spent with toil, and lab’ring hard for breath,
He now lay twisting in the pangs of death.
ding dong, the dragon is, if not
dead, dying
stay tuned
R ! chard
December 10, 2020
“The Story of of Cadmus” (ll) – Ovid
Richibi's Weblog 