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Tag: hallowe’en

“The Story of Pentheus” – Ovid

The Triumphal Procession of Bacchus, c.1536 - Maerten van Heemskerck

         The Triumphal Procession of Bacchus” (c.1536)

 

                   Maerten van Heemskerck

 

                             _______________

 

 

till now the separate stories in Ovid’s

Metamorphoses have been linked,

one being either a consequence of

the other,or its cause, but the story

of Pentheus, grandson of Cadmus,

king and founder of Thebes, who

earlier in this series had his own

tale told, starts, as my German

teacher used to say, from the

scratch

 

This sad event, therefore, in the

first line of the poem, refers to

what will follow, not what came

before

 

            This sad event gave blind Tiresias fame,

            Through Greece establish’d in a prophet’s name.

 

Tiresias, if you’ll remember, had been

blinded by Juno / Hera, goddess of the

gods, for having sided with Jove / Jupiter

/ Zeus, her husband, in a wager between

them he’d been called upon to decide,

Jove / Jupiter / Zeus, however, gave 

Tiresias, as consolation, having been

barred by a pact among the gods not

to undo each other’s spells, the gift

of insight, prophecy

 

the example that follows, of his divination,

establish[‘d] at that time his reputation

[t]hrough[out] Greece as a prophet


            Th’ unhallow’d Pentheus only durst deride

            The cheated people, and their eyeless guide.

 

unhallow’d, unholy, wicked, sinful

 

Pentheus, king of Thebes following

his grandfather, Cadmus, but that’s

an entirely other story

 

only, of all the people, none but

Pentheus durst, dared, deride,

mock, their eyeless guide, Tiresias

            To whom the prophet in his fury said,

            Shaking the hoary honours of his head:

 

hoary, grizzled, gray, aged


            “‘Twere well, presumptuous man, ’twere well forthee

            If thou wert eyeless too, and blind, like me:

            For the time comes, nay, ’tis already here,

            When the young God’s solemnities appear:

 

the young God[], Bacchus / Dionysus,

son of Semele and Jove / Jupiter / Zeus,

if you’ll remember, god of revelry,

intoxication, wild abandon

 

            Which, if thou dost not with just rites adorn,

            Thy impious carcass, into pieces torn,

            Shall strew the woods, and hang on ev’ry thorn.

 

impious carcass, dishonoured corpse, 

of any thou who wouldn’t’ve honoured

the celebrations

 

            Then, then, remember what I now foretel,

            And own the blind Tiresias saw too well.”

 

own, agree to, admit

            Still Pentheus scorns him, and derides his skill;

            But time did all the prophet’s threats fulfil.

            For now through prostrate Greece young Bacchus rode,

 

prostrate, beholden, reverent, observant

of the solemnities


            Whilst howling matrons celebrate the God:

            All ranks and sexes to his Orgies ran,

            To mingle in the pomps, and fill the train.

 

the rites of Bacchus were bacchanals,

orgies, celebrations of abandon, Mardi

Gras, for instance, in New Orleans,

annual Gay Parades, now everywhere,

or Hallowe’en since time immemorial

 

see above

 

 

            When Pentheus thus his wicked rage express’d:

            “What madness, Thebans, has your souls possess’d?

            Can hollow timbrels, can a drunken shout,

 

timbrels, tambourines


            And the lewd clamours of a beastly rout,

            Thus quell your courage;

 

quell your courage, overcome your

sense of discipline

 

                                            can the weak alarm

            Of women’s yells those stubborn souls disarm,

 

those stubborn souls, the Theban

spirit of pride and honour


            Whom nor the sword nor trumpet e’er could fright,

            Nor the loud din and horror of a fight?

            And you, our sires, who left your old abodes,

 

our sires, the older generation of

Thebans, of his grandfather

Cadmus‘ ilk


            And fix’d in foreign earth your country Gods;

 

foreign earth, very Thebes, from Tyre,

where Cadmus and his followers had

come from, in search of Europa, if

you’ll remember


            Will you without a stroak your city yield,

 

stroak, stroke

 

            And poorly quit an undisputed field?

 

undisputed field, there are no

military obstructions


            But you, whose youth and vigour should inspire

            Heroick warmth, and kindle martial fire,

            Whom burnish’d arms and crested helmets grace,

            Not flow’ry garlands and a painted face;

           

Remember him to whom you stand ally’d:

 

him, Pentheus himself, their king


            The serpent for his well of waters dy’d.

 

The serpenta reference here to the

dragon that Cadmus slew, which had

guarded the cavern where his crew

had been scouting for water, if you’ll

remember

 

            He fought the strong; do you his courage show,

            And gain a conquest o’er a feeble foe.

 

a feeble foe, licentiousness, abandon,

undisciplined revelry

 

            If Thebes must fall, oh might the fates afford

            A nobler doom from famine, fire, or sword.

 

Pentheus appeals to a loftier reason

for defeat, famine, fire, or sword, than

mere, and ignoble, debauchery


            Then might the Thebans perish with renown:

            But now a beardless victor sacks the town;

 

beardless victor, the young Bacchus /

Dionysus


            Whom nor the prancing steed, nor pond’rous shield,

            Nor the hack’d helmet, nor the dusty field,

            But the soft joys of luxury and ease,

            The purple vests, and flow’ry garlands please.

 

Bacchus / Dionysus is not impressed

by armour, military accomplishments,

prowess, but by grace, elegance, and

poetry


            Stand then aside, I’ll make the counterfeit

            Renounce his god-head, and confess the cheat.

 

the counterfeit, Bacchus / Dionysus


            Acrisius from the Grecian walls repell’d

            This boasted pow’r; why then should Pentheus yield?

 

Acrisius, a king of Argos, who must’ve

also repell’d from his city Bacchus /

Dionysus, according to the poem


            Go quickly drag th’ impostor boy to me;

 

th’ impostor boy, the counterfeit,

Bachus / Dionysus


            I’ll try the force of his divinity.”

 

try, test


            Thus did th’ audacious wretch those rites profane;

 

th’ audacious wretch, Pentheus


            His friends dissuade th’ audacious wretch in vain:

            In vain his grandsire urg’d him to give o’er

            His impious threats; the wretch but raves the more.

 

his grandsire, Cadmus

            So have I seen a river gently glide,

            In a smooth course, and inoffensive tide;

            But if with dams its current we restrain,

            It bears down all, and foams along the plain.

 

nature will have its way, so will the

gods, watch out, the narrator says,

who it is that you challenge

            But now his servants came besmear’d with blood,

            Sent by their haughty prince to seize the God;

 

his servants, Pentheus‘ men

 

the God, Bacchus / Dionysus


            The God they found not in the frantick throng,

            But dragg’d a zealous votary along.

 

votary, follower, adherent,

acolyte

 

the servants, Pentheus‘ men,

who did not, apparently, deliver

 

stay tuned

 

 

R ! chard

happy hallowe’en

                                                                                                                                                        just in time a brew to invigorate the season,
courtesy of Shakespeare 
 
 
Richard
 
                _________________   

 

               (from “Macbeth”, act IV, scene 1)

                                                                                                                                                              

Round about the cauldron go;
In the poison’d entrails throw.
Toad, that under cold stone
Days and nights hast thirty one
Swelter’d venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i’ the charmed pot. 

           Double, double toil and trouble; 
           Fire burn and cauldron bubble.  
                                                                                                                                               Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the cauldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder’s fork, and blind-worm’s sting,
Lizard’s leg, and howlet’s wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

           Double, double toil and trouble; 
           Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,
Witches’ mummy, maw and gulf
Of the ravin’d salt-sea shark,
Root of hemlock digg’d i’ the dark,
Liver of blaspheming Jew,
Gall of goat, and slips of yew
Sliver’d in the moon’s eclipse,
Nose of Turk, and Tartar’s lips,
Finger of birth-strangled babe
Ditch-deliver’d by a drab,
Make the gruel thick and slab:
Add thereto a tiger’s chaudron,
For the ingredients of our cauldron.

            Double, double toil and trouble;
            Fire burn and cauldron bubble

 

                                  William Shakespeare

 

 

                        

happy Hallowe’en

this poem by Longfellow requires no introduction, apart
from to say that it’s perfect
 
 
happy Hallowe’en 
 
Richard  
 
              _________________   

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            Haunted Houses

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  All houses wherein men have lived and died
Are haunted houses.Through the open doors
The harmless phantoms on their errands glide,
With feet that make no sound upon the floors.

We meet them at the door-way, on the stair,
Along the passages they come and go,
Impalpable impressions on the air,
A sense of something moving to and fro.

There are more guests at table than the hosts
Invited; the illuminated hall
Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts,
As silent as the pictures on the wall.

The stranger at my fireside cannot see
The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear;
He but perceives what is; while unto me
All that has been is visible and clear.

We have no title-deeds to house or lands;
Owners and occupants of earlier dates
From graves forgotten stretch their dusty hands,
And hold in mortmain still their old estates.

The spirit-world around this world of sense
Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere
Wafts through these earthly mists and vapours dense
A vital breath of more ethereal air.

Our little lives are kept in equipoise
By opposite attractions and desires;
The struggle of the instinct that enjoys,
And the more noble instinct that aspires.

These perturbations, this perpetual jar
Of earthly wants and aspirations high,
Come from the influence of an unseen star
An undiscovered planet in our sky.

And as the moon from some dark gate of cloud
Throws o’er the sea a floating bridge of light,
Across whose trembling planks our fancies crowd
Into the realm of mystery and night,–

So from the world of spirits there descends
A bridge of light, connecting it with this,
O’er whose unsteady floor, that sways and bends,
Wander our thoughts above the dark abyss.

        
                                  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow