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Category: paintings to ponder

“The Transformation of Actaeon into a Stag” (ll) – Ovid

Diana and Actaeon, c.1518 - Lucas Cranach the Elder

          Diana and Actaeon

                 Lucas Cranach the Elder

                                   ____________

 
 

               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

 

 
 
 
 
 

“The Transformation of Actaeon into a Stag” – Ovid

The Bath of Diana, 1855 - Camille Corot

 

           “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:

 

Actaeongrandson 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

“The Story of of Cadmus” (V) – Ovid

Minerva or Pallas Athena, 1898 - Gustav Klimt

         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

warnedwithout 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

“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

“The Story of of Cadmus” (lll) – Ovid

File:Hendrick Goltzius Cadmus Statens Museum for Kunst 1183.jpg

             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 remembersacrifice to Jove,

to thank that god for these new

dominionstheir 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

“The Story of of Cadmus” (ll) – Ovid

St. George and the Dragon, c.1470 - Paolo Uccello

          “St. George and the Dragon” (c.1470)

 

                 Paolo Uccello

 

                            _______

 

 

             Cadmus salutes the soil, and gladly hails

             The new-found mountains, and the nameless vales,

             And thanks the Gods, and turns about his eye

             To see his new dominions round him lye;

 

Cadmus, son of Agenor, brother of

Europa, has, on the advice of the

Delphick oracles, settled where

the lonely cow, / Unworn with yokes,

unbroken to the plow had stoop’d,

and couch’d amid the rising grass,

and stakes there his new appointed

home

 

vales, valleys


             Then sends his servants to a neighb’ring grove

             For living streams, a sacrifice to Jove.

 

Cadmus, a prince, would’ve had

a retinue, followers, Hamlet for

instance, his Horatio, his

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern

 

Jove, note, is the god who abducted

Europa, though Cadmus, according

to our story, isn’t yet supposed to 

know this, never having found his

sister, nor identified, consequently,

her ravisher, namely Jovethe god

to whom Cadmus is now about to

give sacrifice, give thanks


             O’er the wide plain there rose a shady wood

             Of aged trees; in its dark bosom stood

             A bushy thicket, pathless and unworn,

             O’er-run with brambles, and perplex’d with thorn:

 

perplex’d, a wonderful metaphor

here for entangled, enmeshed

 

             Amidst the brake a hollow den was found,

             With rocks and shelving arches vaulted round.

 

brake, bracken, brush

 

             Deep in the dreary den, conceal’d from day,

             Sacred to Mars, a mighty dragon lay,

 

Mars, god of War

 

a mighty dragon, dragons, it appears,

go back to very prehistory, perhaps

as a memory in our reptilian brain of

dinosaurs, and the like, that made its

way into our poetic imagination

 

see above 


             Bloated with poison to a monstrous size;

             Fire broke in flashes when he glanc’d his eyes:

 

glanc’d his eyes, threw glances at

 

             His tow’ring crest was glorious to behold,

 

crest, as in roosters, or reptiles


             His shoulders and his sides were scal’d with gold;

 

scal’d, having scales, plates,

overlapping surfaces


             Three tongues he brandish’d when he charg’d his foes;

             His teeth stood jaggy in three dreadful rowes.

 

rowes, rows, three dreadful ones,

one behind the other


             The Tyrians in the den for water sought,

 

The Tyrians, Cadmus and his men,

all originally from Tyre


             And with their urns explor’d the hollow vault:

     

urns, to collect from living streams

within the vault a sacrifice to Jove


             From side to side their empty urns rebound,

 

rebound, knock against a harder

surface repeatedly


             And rowse the sleeping serpent with the sound.

 

rowse, rouse

             

             Strait he bestirs him, and is seen to rise;

             

he bestirs him, he bestirs himself

             

             And now with dreadful hissings fills the skies,

             And darts his forky tongues, and rowles his glaring eyes.

 

rowles, rolls


             The Tyrians drop their vessels in the fright,

 

vessels, urns

 

             All pale and trembling at the hideous sight.

             Spire above spire uprear’d in air he stood,

 

Spire above spire, scale upon scale

 

uprear’d, reared up

 

he, the serpent


             And gazing round him over-look’d the wood:

 

overlook’d, looked over, surveyed


             Then floating on the ground in circles rowl’d;

 

rowl’d, rolled


             Then leap’d upon them in a mighty fold.

 

fold, embrace, encirclement

 

             Of such a bulk, and such a monstrous size

             The serpent in the polar circle lyes,

             That stretches over half the northern skies.

 

The serpent in the polar circle, Serpens,

a constellation in the Northern Hemisphere

in close proximity to the North Pole

 

lyes, lies


             In vain the Tyrians on their arms rely,

 

their arms, their weapons


             In vain attempt to fight, in vain to fly:
             All their endeavours and their hopes are vain;
             Some die entangled in the winding train;

 

the winding train, the serpent’s

tail

 

             Some are devour’d, or feel a loathsom death,
             Swoln up with blasts of pestilential breath.

 

stay tuned

 

 

 

R ! chard

“The Story of of Cadmus” – Ovid

Lying Cow, 1883 - Vincent van Gogh

        Lying Cow(1883)

 

             Vincent van Gogh

 

                           ______

            When now Agenor had his daughter lost,

 

Agenor, king of Tyre, father of

Europahis daughter lost


            He sent his son to search on ev’ry coast;

 

his son, Agenor’s son, Cadmus,

Europa’s brother


            And sternly bid him to his arms restore
            The darling maid, or see his face no more,
            But live an exile in a foreign clime;
            Thus was the father pious to a crime.

 

pious to a crime, intent on, devoted to,

having justice restored

 

            The restless youth search’d all the world around;
            But how can Jove in his amours be found?

 

amours, loves, trysts, entanglements

 

            When, tir’d at length with unsuccessful toil,
            To shun his angry sire and native soil,

 

his angry sire, Agenor, father, sire

 

            He goes a suppliant to the Delphick dome;

 

suppliant, supplicant, petitioner,

one in search of a favour

 

Delphick dome, the Temple of Apollo

at Delphi, where the oracle, Pythia,

proclaimed her cryptic prognostications,

her famously ambiguous prophecies

 

Delphi, incidentally, was one of several

sacred sites in Greece, sanctuaries,

open to any Greek, or person who

could speak Greek, regardless of

geographical provenance, any

city-statefor instance then, or

kingdom, akin to embassies today,

or places where people can expect

to find similar political haven

 

Delphi was the destination then also of

pilgrimages, comparable to our own

Santiago de Compostela today, an

ancient path I dearly would’ve, but

never have, unfortunately, undertaken

 

though I did walk to Mission B.C. some

several years ago, from my home in

Vancouver, to a monastery there, a

place of recuperation when I needed

one, three days there, and a half, three

days and an equal half back, my feet

were blistered, I noticed at one point,

but hadn’t at all registered any pain,

a truth I gathered about the power of

intention, one’s very aim can be a

salve, a balm, a solace, against any

adversity

 

but back to Cadmus

 

            There asks the God what new appointed home
            Should end his wand’rings, and his toils relieve.

 

where do I land, asks Cadmus,where

is my appointed home, my final

destination


            The Delphick oracles this answer give.

 

The Delphick oracles, subordinates

to Pythia, the high priestess at Delphi

 

            “Behold among the fields a lonely cow,

            Unworn with yokes, unbroken to the plow;

            Mark well the place where first she lays her down,

            There measure out thy walls, and build thy town,

            And from thy guide Boeotia call the land,

            In which the destin’d walls and town shall stand.”

 

Boeotiaa region still of Greece

 

            No sooner had he left the dark abode,
            Big with the promise of the Delphick God,

 

the Delphick God, Apollo, god of

music, dance, truth, prophecy,

healing, the sun, light, poetry,

among many other things


            When in the fields the fatal cow he view’d,
            Nor gall’d with yokes, nor worn with servitude:

 

fatal, fateful

 

gall’d, irritated, frustrated


            Her gently at a distance he pursu’d;
            And as he walk’d aloof, in silence pray’d
            To the great Pow’r whose counsels he obey’d.

 

the great Pow’r, Apollo, by way of his

Delphick oracles,the high priestesses,

through their counsel, their divinations


            Her way thro’ flow’ry Panope she took,

 

Panope, plural, were sea nymphs, not

places, in Ancient Greece, therefore

Cadmus must’ve been crossing water,

however flow’ry, I’ll have to check my

Latin text for, maybe, inaccuracies in

the translation


            And now, Cephisus, cross’d thy silver brook;

 

Cephisus, or Cephissus, a river in Boeotia,

a brook, a stream, anthropomorphized here,

which is to say Cephissus, the flow, the

waterway, is being addressed as a rational

being, I have cross’d thy silver brook, he 

says, speaking to the torrent

 

meanwhile, to brook, to conquer, to

overcome, a wonderful, a shimmering,

literarily speaking, homonym, which is

to say, a word with two faces


            When to the Heav’ns her spacious front she rais’d,
            And bellow’d thrice, then backward turning gaz’d
            On those behind, ’till on the destin’d place
            She stoop’d, and couch’d amid the rising grass.

 

she, the fatal cow, see abovehas led

Cadmus to his famed, his mythic,

destination, destin’d place, destiny

 

stay tuned

 

 

R ! chard

“Europa’s Rape” (ll) – Ovid

The Rape of Europa, c.1732 - 1734 - Francois Boucher

         The Rape of Europa” (c.1732 – 1734)

 

               François Boucher

 

                      ___________

 

 

            Agenor’s royal daughter, as she plaid

            Among the fields, the milk-white bull survey’d,

 

Agenor, king of Tyre, in Phoenicia,

an area comprised then of ancient

Lebanon, as well as a good part of

the Eastern, and later, the Southern,

which is to say the African,

Mediterranean coasts, father of,

notably, Europa, his royal, his

indeed mythic, daughter 


            And view’d his spotless body with delight,

            And at a distance kept him in her sight.

 

Europa is intrigued, delight[ed], by this

milk-white …spotless …bull, but from

a distance, discreetly, furtively


            At length she pluck’d the rising flow’rs, and fed

            The gentle beast, and fondly stroak’d his head.

 

pluck’d, dared, mischievously, to

confront

 

the rising flowers, offering [their] cup

to the sun

 

            He stood well-pleas’d to touch the charming fair,

            But hardly could confine his pleasure there.

            And now he wantons o’er the neighb’ring strand,

            Now rowls his body on the yellow sand;

 

to wanton, to play, to frolic, often

immodestly, like puppies, goats

 

strand, shore

 

rowls, rolls

 

            And, now perceiving all her fears decay’d,

 

decay’d, dispelled, dissipated,

evaporated

 

            Comes tossing forward to the royal maid;

            Gives her his breast to stroke, and downward turns

            His grizly brow, and gently stoops his horns.

 

grizly, grizzly, grayish


            In flow’ry wreaths the royal virgin drest

 

drest, adorned

 

            His bending horns, and kindly clapt his breast.

            ‘Till now grown wanton and devoid of fear,

            Not knowing that she prest the Thunderer,

 

the Thunderer, Jove / Jupiter / Zeus

 

            She plac’d her self upon his back, and rode

            O’er fields and meadows, seated on the God.

 

however heedlessly, however

immoderately, immodestly,

however innocently

 

see above


            He gently march’d along, and by degrees

            Left the dry meadow, and approach’d the seas;

            Where now he dips his hoofs and wets his thighs,

            Now plunges in, and carries off the prize.

            The frighted nymph looks backward on the shoar,

 

shoar, shore

 

            And hears the tumbling billows round her roar;

            But still she holds him fast: one hand is born

 

born, borne, held

 

            Upon his back; the other grasps a horn:

            Her train of ruffling garments flies behind,

            Swells in the air, and hovers in the wind.

 

see here also for a more windswept

picture of Europamore in keeping

with the last few lines


            Through storms and tempests he the virgin bore,

            And lands her safe on the Dictean shore;

 

Dictean, of Dicte, or Dikti, a mountain

range in Eastern Crete, site of the

Diktaion Antronor Dictaean Cave,

the place where Jove / Jupiter / Zeus

was apparently born, if it wasn’t the

Idaean Cave, which is to say a cave on

Mount Idatherefore Idaean, also in

Crete, both hollows having claimed

the right to be called the site of the

exalted provenance

 

            Where now, in his divinest form array’d,

            In his true shape he captivates the maid;

 

Jove / Jupiter / Zeus manifest, no

longer bull, but divinity, dripping

still in bovine potency, however

residual


            Who gazes on him, and with wond’ring eyes

            Beholds the new majestick figure rise,

            His glowing features, and celestial light,

            And all the God discover’d to her sight.

 

once, to a man who’d bewitched me,

how could you touch me, I wrote, you

must’ve known you would transfix me,

leave me breathless, which he,

however inadvertently, had, did

 

I went on, of course, to not populate

continents, nor to become queen of

Crete, but was Europa, in that

instance, before my own exalted

entity 

 

 

R ! chard

“Europa’s Rape” – Ovid

Bulls, 1948 - Bertalan Por

       Bulls” (1948)

 

               Bertalan Por

 

                           ____

 

 

though I’d heard, indeed, of the rape of

Europa, I wasn’t aware, I’d thought, of

the details, was loathe, therefore, to

read on, in the next segment of Ovid’s

Metamorphoseshaving been earlier

put off by such incidents in that text

 

as it turned out, Europa isn’t raped,

but, rather, abducted, more or less

willingly, however innocently, by

Jove / Jupiter / Zeus, and will even,

later, consensually, bear his children

 

who will then migrate, from their base

in Crete, to populate, to people, the

continent which we’ll come to know

as Europe, after their mum

 

but that’s a whole other story

 

meanwhile

 

           When now the God his fury had allay’d,

           And taken vengeance of the stubborn maid,

           From where the bright Athenian turrets rise

           He mounts aloft, and re-ascends the skies.

 

the God, Hermes / Mercury, if you’ll

remember, had just transformed

Aglauros, the stubborn maid, into a

statue for having been impudent

with him, and mounts aloft now,

re-ascends the skies over Athens,

where the damsel had lived


           Jove saw him enter the sublime abodes,

 

the sublime abodes, Olympus,

home of the gods


           And, as he mix’d among the crowd of Gods,

           Beckon’d him out, and drew him from the rest,

           And in soft whispers thus his will exprest.

 

Jove / Jupiter / Zeus wants something

from Hermes / Mercury


           
“My trusty Hermes, by whose ready aid

           Thy sire’s commands are through the world convey’d.

 

sire, Jove / Jupiter / Zeus is the father

of Hermes / Mercury, his sire

 

Hermes / Mercury, the messenger god,

patron of travellers, heralds, newscasters,

those who convey information

through[out] the world


           Resume thy wings, exert their utmost force,

           And to the walls of Sidon speed thy course;

 

Sidon, a city still in Lebanon


           
There find a herd of heifers wand’ring o’er

           The neighb’ring hill, and drive ’em to the shore.”

           Thus spoke the God, concealing his intent.

 

Jove / Jupiter / Zeus, the God, has

an ulterior motive, a conceal[ed] …

intent


           The trusty Hermes, on his message went,

           And found the herd of heifers wand’ring o’er

           A neighb’ring hill, and drove ’em to the shore;

 

mission accomplished


           Where the king’s daughter, with a lovely train
           Of fellow-nymphs, was sporting on the plain.

 

the conceal[ed] …intent is exposed,

Jove / Jupiter / Zeus, in character,

is on the prowl

 

           The dignity of empire laid aside,

           (For love but ill agrees with kingly pride)

 

power, empire, will not abide being

deprived, we’ve seen ample examples

of that in our, even most recent, past


           The ruler of the skies, the thund’ring God,

           Who shakes the world’s foundations with a nod,

 

Jove / Jupiter, Zeus, god, remember,

of Thunder

 

           Among a herd of lowing heifers ran,

           Frisk’d in a bull, and bellow’d o’er the plain.

 

Frisk’d, accoutered, dressed up as,

in the guise of, a bull

 

           Large rowles of fat about his shoulders clung,

 

rowles, rolls


           And from his neck the double dewlap hung.

 

dewlap, a looseflap of skin hanging

from the throat of some animals, or

birds, cattle, for instance, turkeys,

a wattle


           His skin was whiter than the snow

 

see above

 

                                                             that lies

           Unsully’d by the breath of southern skies;

 

breath of southern skies would

melt away white snow, revealing,

fatefully, ignominiously, patches

of [ ]sully’d earth


           Small shining horns on his curl’d forehead stand,

           As turn’d and polish’d by the work-man’s hand;

           His eye-balls rowl’d, not formidably bright,

 

rowl’d, rolled


           But gaz’d and languish’d with a gentle light.

 

as in doe eyes


           His ev’ry look was peaceful, and exprest

           The softness of the lover in the beast.

 

a wolf, if here a bull, in

sheep’s clothing

 

stay tuned

 

 

R ! chard

“The Story of Aglauros, transform’d into a Statue” (lV) – Ovid

statue-in-the-park-of-versailles.jpg!Large

       Statue in the Park of Versailles

 

                   Giovanni Boldini

 

                             ________

 

 

Envy, at the instigation of Minerva,

has flown towards the site of her

commissioned mischief, to hex

Aglauros, who’s miffed her

 

            When Athens she beheld, for arts renown’d,

            With peace made happy, and with plenty crown’d,

 

Athens, its glories, architectural,

literary, political, philosophical, would

have been impressive still, despite its

intervening decline, to the mind of a

Roman poet of the later First Century,

compare, say, a contemporary poet’s

evaluation of Great Britain’s grandeur

during its 19th Century supremacy, or

of the United States’ promise before

its late-20th-Century deterioration

 

            Scarce could the hideous fiend from tears forbear,

            To find out nothing that deserv’d a tear.

 

Envy, the hideous fiend, was upset

because she couldn’t find anything

to cry about, anything that deserv’d

a tear


            Th’ apartment now she enter’d, where at rest

            Aglauros lay, with gentle sleep opprest.

 

with gentle sleep opprest seems

to me oxymoronic, conflicting

definitions, how could a gentle

sleep oppress, but let’s continue


            To execute Minerva’s dire command,

            She stroak’d the virgin with her canker’d hand,

            Then prickly thorns into her breast convey’d,

            That stung to madness the devoted maid:

            Her subtle venom still improves the smart,

 

improves the smart, accentuates

the sudden pain

 

            Frets in the blood, and festers in the heart.

 

Frets in, unsettles, the blood, festers,

rots , becomes cankerous, in the heart.

 

            To make the work more sure, a scene she drew,

            And plac’d before the dreaming virgin’s view

            Her sister’s marriage, and her glorious fate:

            Th’ imaginary bride appears in state;

            The bride-groom with unwonted beauty glows:

            For envy magnifies what-e’er she shows.

 

Aglauros is not only struck with

subtle venom, but subjected to

psychological manipulation, if

you’ll excuse the reference to

modern analytical methods, is

made to see [h]er sister’s

marriage, Herse‘s, as well as 

her glorious fate

 

For envy magnifies what-e’er

she shows, an observation

worth remembering

 

            Full of the dream, Aglauros pin’d away

            In tears all night, in darkness all the day;

 

the dream, though Envy might’ve

envenomed Aglauros in her sleep,

the unwanted vision continues to

plague her throughout the following

days, and nights

 

            Consum’d like ice, that just begins to run,

            When feebly smitten by the distant sun;

            Or like unwholsome weeds, that set on fire

            Are slowly wasted, and in smoke expire.

 

the slow torture in the mind of

rancour there eating away at

the psyche


            Giv’n up to envy (for in ev’ry thought

            The thorns, the venom, and the vision wrought)

 

The thorns, the venom, and the vision,

all three, wrought, writhing, smouldering,

in ev’ry thought

 

            Oft did she call on death, as oft decreed,

 

decreed, resolved

 

            Rather than see her sister’s wish succeed,

            To tell her awfull father what had past:

 

her awfull father, Cecrops l, founder

and first king of Athens, according to

myth

 

awfull, as in inspiring awe, reverence


            At length before the door her self she cast;

 

the door, of her chamber, where the

God Hermes / Mercury had asked

Aglauros to speak in his favour to

her sister, Herse, whom he had

wanted, if you’ll remember, to woo

 

cast, set herself up awaiting the

God’s return


            And, sitting on the ground with sullen pride,

            A passage to the love-sick God deny’d.

 

Aglauros denies the God his wish,

she will not praise him to her sister


            The God caress’d, and for admission pray’d,

            And sooth’d in softest words th’ envenom’d maid.

 

caress’d, used endearing words


            In vain he sooth’d: “Begone!” the maid replies,

            “Or here I keep my seat, and never rise.”

 

I’ll stay here till you leave, Aglauros

tells Hermes / Mercury


            “Then keep thy seat for ever,” cries the God,

 

the impudence of vying with a god

has its consequences


            And touch’d the door, wide op’ning to his rod.

 

his rod, his caduceus, his winged

staff


            Fain would she rise, and stop him,

 

Fain,willingly

 

                                                             but she found

            Her trunk too heavy to forsake the ground;

            Her joynts are all benum’d, her hands are pale,

            And marble now appears in ev’ry nail.

            As when a cancer in the body feeds,

            And gradual death from limb to limb proceeds;

            So does the chilness to each vital parte

            Spread by degrees, and creeps into her heart;

            ‘Till hard’ning ev’ry where, and speechless grown,

            She sits unmov’d, and freezes to a stone.

 

Aglauros has become of stone,

a statue


            But still her envious hue and sullen mien

            Are in the sedentary figure seen.

 

still, though Aglauros might’ve been

rendered inanimate, it’s interesting

to note that she’s nevertheless

become immortal, immortalized

 

see, for instance, above

 

 

R ! chard