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Tag: Phaeton

Story of Phaeton (VIII) – Ovid

800px-Peterborough.Chronicle.firstpage

  the initial page of the Peterborough Chronicle (14th Century CE)

 

           ___________

 

 

                  Jove call’d to witness ev’ry Pow’r above, 
                  And ev’n the God, whose son the chariot drove, 
                  That what he acts he is compell’d to do, 
                  Or universal ruin must ensue. 

 

had Dryden applied commas above,

as I am, you might’ve noted, nearly

compulsively wont to do, commas 

being a significant part of my religion, 

the verses might’ve been more easily 

understood, put a comma after 

witness and the object of the 

witnessing, in this case an entire 

independent clause, That what he 

acts he is compell’d to do, finds its 

natural position, clarity, Jove has to 

do, he says, what Jove has to do

 

I cannot too much blame Dryden for 

this literary indiscretion, this peccadillo,

to my mind, for punctuation has been 

an evolving thing, there was a time 

when there was no punctuation at all, 

not even spaces between the words, 

see abovethis translation, of 1717, 

stands somewhere within the gamut 

of our ever evolving English grammar

 

the God, meanwhile, whose son the 

chariot drove, in, above, the second 

pentameter, is Phoebus / Apollo

Phaeton‘s father

 

                  Strait he ascends the high aetherial throne, 

 

Jove does


                  From whence 
he us’d to dart his thunder down,  
                From whence his show’rs and storms he us’d to pour, 
                But now cou’d meet with neither storm nor show’r. 

 

Jove, being rendered impotent by the 

raging fires, the immutable trajectory 

of the very Sun having been 

catastrophically, however improbably, 

distorted, is left, at that time, or Then, 

as the next line starts up, with no 

option

 

                  Then, aiming at the youth, with lifted hand, 
                  Full at his head he hurl’d the forky brand, 
                  In dreadful thund’rings. 

 

forky brand, a forklike piece of burning 

wood, Jove’s trident

 

                                                  Thus th’ almighty sire   
                  Suppress’d the raging of the fires with fire. 

 

I’m reminded of the planned explosions 

at the mouth of the oil wells in Kuwait,

wellheads, after the Gulf War, that were 

meant to still for a critical moment the 

fires, that would otherwise burn out 

of control, in order to squelch the

disastrous conflagrations 


                  At once from life and from the chariot driv’n, 
                  Th’ ambitious boy fell thunder-struck from Heav’n. 
                  The horses started with a sudden bound, 
                  And flung the reins and chariot to the ground: 
                  The studded harness from their necks they broke, 
                  Here fell a wheel, and here a silver spoke, 
                  Here were the beam and axle torn away; 
                  And, scatter’d o’er the Earth, the shining fragments lay. 
                  The breathless Phaeton, with flaming hair, 
                  Shot from the chariot, like a falling star, 
                  That in a summer’s ev’ning from the top 
                  Of Heav’n drops down, or seems at least to drop; 
                  ‘Till on the Po his blasted corps was hurl’d, 

 

corps, body, from the French, or 

corpse 

 

the Po, a river in Italy


                   Far from his country, in the western world. 

 

one wonders, however, what happened

to the Earth, the Chariot of the Sun, 

upon their fiery interaction, perhaps 

the Sun, fallen behind the horizon,

beyond the western oceans, set out 

again, the following morning, with its 

usual master, Phoebus / Apollo, at 

its steady reins, for the world to 

see again another day under that 

lord’s august intervention

 

 

R ! chard

 

 

 

The Story of Phaeton (VII) – Ovid

earth.jpg!Large

   Earth (2010) 

 

            Rolf Ohst

 

                     ______

 

mythologies are stories a people will 

tell itself to explain phenomena that 

remain mysterious, by transforming 

conundrums into people, 

anthropomorphizing them, a tale is

told that not only entertains, but 

informs, gives context in order to

shape moral character

 

most mythologies, if not all, it’s a 

question of definition, which I’ll 

get into later, past and present, 

are pantheistic, which is to say 

they refer to many goddesses 

and gods, rather than to one 

almighty one, therefore they see 

deities in rivers, trees, oceans, 

mountains, the sun, the moon, 

constellations, as well as in the 

more metaphysical entities, 

poetry, beauty, love  

 

there is therefore a more respectful,

even reverent, attitude to all of these

otherwise neglected realities, for 

being, often, peripheral to more 

immediate, daily, domestic, 

concerns

 

our prevalent monotheistic 

mythologies, by contrast, purport 

to be historical, however specious, 

which is why the word mythology 

here might not be appropriate, but 

regardless, they all posit one 

omnipotent God, notably 

imponderable, esoteric, and there 

are, correspondingly, only a few 

mentions in their foundational  

texts, the Bible, the Koran, the 

Torah, of nature playing any  

significant part, it is secondary to

to their overriding message

 

we therefore have allowed ourselves 

to watch the world burning without

having even noticed it come about, 

a function exacerbated, incidentally,

by our living mostly, now, in cities

 

Phaeton has let his horses stray from 

the cosmically ordained path of the 

Sun, the constellations have already

complained, Earth will follow

 

we, for our part, have despoiled our 

mother, we are presently watching 

her being ignominiously desecrated

 

see above

 

                   The Earth at length, on ev’ry side embrac’d
                   With scalding seas that floated round her waste, 

 

waste, waist, though waste itself throws 

its own homonymic reverberations of 

disorganized detritus, float[ing] round, 

into the mix, something Shakespeare,

incidentally, was especially good at


                   When now she felt the springs and rivers come,
                   And crowd within the hollow of her womb, 

 

the waters are receding, evaporating


                   Up-lifted to the Heav’ns her blasted head, 

 

blasted, overwhelmed


                   And clapt her hand upon her brows, and said
                   (But first, impatient of the sultry heat,
                   Sunk deeper down, and sought a cooler seat): 

 

a strange, and not especially effective

interjection between the parentheses

here, I think


                   “If you, great king of Gods, my death approve,
                   And I deserve it, let me die by Jove; 

 

Earth asks of Jove, king of Gods, 

that she might die at his own hands,

if her time has come


                   If I must perish by the force of fire,
                   Let me transfix’d with thunder-bolts expire.
                   See, whilst I speak, my breath the vapours choak
                   (For now her face lay wrapt in clouds of smoak),
                   See my singe’d hair, behold my faded eye,
                   And wither’d face, where heaps of cinders lye! 

 

we are familiar with forest fires,

hurricanes, droughts in our own day


                   And does the plow for this my body tear? 

 

after all I have given through 

agriculture, the plow, of nourishment, 

Earth asks, is this how I am to be 

repaid 

 

                   This the reward for all the fruits I bear,
                   Tortur’d with rakes, and harrass’d all the year?
                   That herbs for cattle daily I renew,
                   And food for Man, and frankincense for you? 

 

not only does Earth benefit living

creatures, but also the goddesses

and gods, she exclaims

 

                   But grant me guilty; what has Neptune done? 

 

Neptune, god of Water, the Sea,

is also Jove‘s brother


                   Why are his waters boiling in the sun?
                   The wavy empire, which by lot was giv’n,
                   Why does it waste, and further shrink from Heav’n? 

 

wavy empire, made of waves

 

Jove, Neptune, and Pluto were all

sons of Saturn, Titan, god of Time, 

after the sons overthrew their father 

during the Giants’ War, they divided 

the world by lot, which is to say, who

had the longest straw, Jove got the 

Heavens, Neptune, the Seas, Pluto

the Underworld

 

waste, resounding from above 

 

                   If I nor he your pity can provoke,
                   See your own Heav’ns, the Heav’ns begin to smoke!
                   Shou’d once the sparkles catch those bright abodes,
                   Destruction seizes on the Heav’ns and Gods;
                   Atlas becomes unequal to his freight,
                   And almost faints beneath the glowing weight. 

 

Atlas, a Titan, condemned to hold 

the heavens up for eternity


                   If Heav’n, and Earth, and sea, together burn,
                   All must again into their chaos turn. 

 

into their chaos turn, see the Creation

of the World


                   Apply some speedy cure, prevent our fate,
                   And succour Nature, ere it be too late.” 

 

sounds disquietingly familiar


                   She cea’sd, for choak’d with vapours round her spread,
                   Down to the deepest shades she sunk her head. 

 

surrounded by vapours, round her 

spread, Earth inexorably succumbs

 

gasp

 

 

R ! chard

 

 

The Story of Phaeton (VII) – Ovid

landscape-off-ruins-and-fires-1914.jpg!Large

   Landscape of Ruins and Fires (1914)

 

               Félix Vallotton

 

                   _______

 

 

 

                ‘Twas then, they say, the swarthy Moor begun
                To change his hue, and blacken in the sun. 

 

Moor, a flagrant anachronism here, 

as Moors, Muslim inhabitants of

North Africa, didn’t exist before the 

advent of Islam, which began in the 

Seventh Century CE, Ovid, in Latin,

uses Ethiopian, which would entirely 

throw off, note, Dryden‘s poetic 

metre, thus Moor


                Then Libya first, of all her moisture drain’d,
                Became a barren waste, a wild of sand. 

 

Libya, Ancient Libya, a much larger 

country of North Africa than the 

Libya we know of today


                The water-nymphs lament their empty urns,
                Boeotia, robb’s of silve Dirce, mourns, 

 

empty urns, the water has evaporated

 

Boeotia, a region still of Greece

 

Dirce, upon her gruesome death, which 

I won’t get into here, was transformed 

by Dionysus, god of revelry and fertility,  

into a fountain, which became revered

 

silve, sylvan, of the forest, the 

countryside

 

robb’s, I’ll guess robbers, because 

Boeotia is where Dirce, abducted,

became a fountain 


                Corinth Pyrene’s wasted spring bewails,
                And Argos grieves whilst Amymone fails. 

 

Corinth, a city still in Greece

 

Pyrene, a princess, who was, another 

distressing story, transformed into the 

Pyreneesby Heracles, her seducer,

as well as being a god renowned for 

his extraordinary exploits

 

Argos, a city still in Greece

 

Amymone, another unfortunate maiden,

who was granted by Poseidon, god of 

Water, for, throughout her tribulations, 

her probity, springs, sources of water, 

for her community, which, in the 

instance, all fail[ ] 


                The floods are drain’d from ev’ry distant coast,
                Ev’n Tanais, tho’ fix’d in ice, was lost. 

 

Tanais, the river today known as the 

Don in Russia, thus fix’d in ice


                Enrag’d Caicus and Lycormas roar, 

 

Caicus, a river in Asia Minor, now

given a different name in a different

script, Bakırçay, which I’ll let you 

try to pronounce 

 

Lycormas, a river in Ancient Greece, 

now called Evinos


                And Xanthus, fated to be burnt once more. 

 

Xanthus, or Xanthos, a river in Ancient

Asia Minor, which was yellowish already

due to its surrounding tainted soil, thus 

burnt once more    

 

                The fam’d Maeander, that unweary’d strays 

 

Maeander, a river in Ancient Asia

Minor


                Through mazy windings, smoaks in ev’ry maze. 

 

smoaks, smokes

 

mazy, maze, cute


                From his lov’d Babylon Euphrates flies;
                The big-swoln Ganges and the Danube rise
                In thick’ning fumes, and darken half the skies. 

 

the Euphrates, the Ganges, and the

Danube, rivers which still go by their

ancient names

 

                In flames Ismenos and the Phasis roul’d, 

 

Ismenos, or Ismenus, a river in 

Boeotia, Greece

 

Phasis, ancient name for the 

Rioni River in Georgia, Eurasia

 

roul’d, rolled


                And Tagus floating in his melted gold. 

 

Tagus, a river in the Iberian 

Peninsula


                The swans, that on Cayster often try’d
                Their tuneful songs, now sung their last and dy’d. 

 

Cayster, a river in Turkey


                The frighted Nile ran off, and under ground
                Conceal’d his head, nor can it yet be found:
                His sev’n divided currents all are dry,
                And where they row’ld, sev’n gaping trenches lye: 

 

it is being suggested that the Nile

had at one point seven tributaries,

some of which dried up, never

recovered

 

rowl’d, rolled

 

                No more the Rhine or Rhone their course maintain,
                Nor Tiber, of his promis’d empire vain. 

 

the Rhine, the Rhone, and the Tiber

are all European rivers

 

vain, deprived


                The ground, deep-cleft, admits the dazling ray,
                And startles Pluto with the flash of day. 

 

dazling, dazzling

 

Pluto, god of the Underworld, who 

would be understandably startle[d] 

by a flash of day


                The seas shrink in, and to the sight disclose
                Wide naked plains, where once their billows rose; 

 

billows, of [t]he seas


                Their rocks are all discover’d, and increase
                The number of the scatter’d Cyclades.

 discover’d, uncovered

 

Cyclades, a group of islands in the 

Aegean Sea, between present-day

Greece and Turkey


                The fish in sholes about the bottom creep, 

 

sholes, shoals


                Nor longer dares the crooked dolphin leap
                Gasping for breath, th’ unshapen Phocae die, 

 

Phocae, plural of Phoca, is the 

generic name, and therefore, 

interestingly, capitalized, for 

seals, walruses, sea lions


                And on the boiling wave extended lye. 

 

lye, lie


                Nereus, and Doris with her virgin train,
                Seek out the last recesses of the main; 

 

Nereus, and Doris, Sea god and 

goddess, parents, notably, of the 

Nereids, sea nymphs, the virgin 

train

 

the main, the ocean

 

                Beneath unfathomable depths they faint,
                And secret in their gloomy caverns pant. 

 

secret, unseen, alone, untended

 

                Stern Neptune thrice above the waves upheld
                His face, and thrice was by the flames repell’d. 

 

Neptune, principal god of the Sea

 

it is interesting to note that where 

earlier the earth had been 

submerged in water, during the 

Giants’ War, now the earth is

engulfed in flames, a primordial

global warming, as it were, the 

result, consider, of a human, 

Phaeton, trying to take on the 

duties of a god, a warning the 

Ancients were already delivering,

so many years, so many centuries, 

so many millennia, ago

 

I suspect, worldwide, indigenous 

people would be telling a similar 

tale were we able to access their 

own, unfortunately unwritten, 

though undoubtedly comparable, 

ancestral wisdom, going back,

perhaps, even as far 

 

 

R ! chard

 

 

 

The Story of Phaeton (VI) – Ovid

mountain-fire.jpg!Large

    Mountain Fire (c.1903 – c.1908)

 

              John Singer Sargent

 

                       _________

 

 

because Phaeton was light, nor cou’d 

he fill the seat, the horses he would’ve

controlled forsake / Their stated course, 

and leave the beaten track

 

                What cou’d he do? his eyes, if backward cast,
                Find a long path he had already past;
                If forward, still a longer path they find:
                Both he compares, and measures in his mind;
                And sometimes casts an eye upon the east,
                And sometimes looks on the forbidden west, 

 

note the description of the movement 

of the eyes, backward, forward, east

and west, uncontrolled, erratic, nearing 

madness, despite attempts, however 

futile, to remain rational, steady, his 

very mind, comparing, measuring, is 

quickly losing its bearings

 

forbidden, once again, this should 

probably read forbidding

 

                The horses’ names he knew not in the fright,
                Nor wou’d he loose the reins, nor cou’d he hold ’em right. 

 

“Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, 

Prancer, and Vixen! / “On, Comet! 

On, Cupid! On, Donner and Blitzen!,

who drove another of the very few 

famous chariots in our Western 

cultural history

 

couldn’t help it

 

the only other one I could think of 

is that of the Four Horsemen of 

the Apocalypse, red, white, black, 

and pale horses, which I won’t get 

into, but to say that they have no 

names

 

the horses who drove the Chariot of

the Sun, meanwhile, were called

Phlegon, Aeos, Aethon, and Pyrios, 

though I fully admit that I had to 

look those up, then again I’ve never 

had to ride the Chariot of the Sun

 

it appears that Helios / Phoebus / 

Apollo had other steeds in his stable 

as well, for a rainy day, but they don’t 

feature in this particular story


                Now all the horrors of the Heav’ns he spies,
                And monstrous shadows of prodigious size,
                That, deck’d with stars, lye scatter’d o’er the skies. 

 

lye, lie


                There is a place above, where Scorpio bent
                In tail and arms surrounds a vast extent; 

 

Scorpio, the constellation Scorpius

visible only in the Southern hemisphere

 

Scorpio, represented by a scorpion,

thus has eight legs, or arms, and a 

highly distinctive tail


                In a wide circuit of the Heav’ns he shines,
                And fills the space of two coelestial signs. 

 

coelestial, celestial


                Soon as the youth beheld him vex’d with heat
                Brandish his sting, and in his poison sweat,
                Half dead with sudden fear he dropt the reins; 

 

vex’d with heat, from the wayward 

chariot, Scorpio [b]randish[es]

his sting

 

poison sweat, Scorpio, under the 

influence of the heat, sweat[s],

exudes, produces, characteristically, 

poison


                The horses felt ’em loose upon their mains, 

 

mains, manes, long hair


                And, flying out through all the plains above,
                Ran uncontroul’d where-e’re their fury drove;
                Rush’d on the stars, and through a pathless way
                Of unknown regions hurry’d on the day. 

 

hurry’d on the day, kept the day going

at its usual, however presently pathless, 

or uncharted, pace

 

                And now above, and now below they flew,
                And near the Earth the burning chariot drew. 

 

ever, and increasingly, ominously

                The clouds disperse in fumes, the wond’ring Moon
                Beholds her brother’s steeds beneath her own; 

 

wond’ring, confused, puzzled

 

Brother Sun, Sister Moon


                The highlands smoak, cleft by the piercing rays,
                Or, clad with woods, in their own fewel blaze. 

 

smoak, smoke

 

fewel, fuel

 

where the highlands are clad with 

woods, they blaze in the fires 

consuming their own trees


                Next o’er the plains, where ripen’d harvests grow,
                The running conflagration spreads below.
                But these are trivial ills: whole cities burn,
                And peopled kingdoms into ashes turn. 

 

an apocalypse

                The mountains kindle as the car draws near, 

 

the car, the chariot


                Athos and Tmolus red with fires appear; 

 

Athos, Mount Athos, Tmolus, Mount

Tmolus, both mountains in Greece,

both named after mountain gods


                Oeagrian Haemus (then a single name) 

 

Haemus Mons, an early name for 

the Balkan Mountains

 

Oeagria, Agria, a town in Greece

 

                And virgin Helicon increase the flame; 

 

Helicon, Mount Helicon, notable for

being the home of the Muses


                Taurus and Oete glare amid the sky, 

 

Taurus, the Taurus Mountains, a 

mountain range in southern Turkey 

 

Oete, Mount Oeta, a mountain in

Central Greece


                And Ida, spight of all her fountains, dry.
                Eryx and Othrys, and Cithaeron, glow,
                And Rhodope, no longer cloath’d in snow;
                High Pindus, Mimas, and Parnassus, sweat,
                And Aetna rages with redoubled heat. 

 

spight, in spite

Ida, Eryx, Othrys, CithaeronRhodope

Pindus, and the more familiar Parnassus

and Aetna, or Etna, are all mountains, or 

ranges, in the Mediterranean, Mimas, an 

island there, which is to say, a partially 

submerged mountain, all of them

sweltering

 

see above


                Ev’n Scythia, through her hoary regions warm’d, 

 

Scythia, a region northeast of Ancient 

Greece, barbarian to the more cultured 

people of Greek Antiquity, coarse 

forebears of the Cossacks 

 

hoary, sullied white, tired, withered 


                In vain with all her native frost was arm’d. 

 

even so frosty a region as Scythia

was not immune to, arm’d against, 

the running conflagration


                Cover’d with flames the tow’ring Appennine,
                And Caucasus, and proud Olympus, shine;
                And, where the long-extended Alpes aspire,
                Now stands a huge continu’d range of fire. 

 

the AppennineCaucasusOlympus

and Alpes, or Alps, are all mountain 

ranges throughout Europe, the 

representative part then of the 

known world

 

               Th’ astonisht youth, where-e’er his eyes cou’d turn,
                Beheld the universe around him burn:
                The world was in a blaze; nor cou’d he bear
                The sultry vapours and the scorching air,
                Which from below, as from a furnace, flow’d;
                And now the axle-tree beneath him glow’d:
                Lost in the whirling clouds that round him broke,
                And white with ashes, hov’ring in the smoke.
                He flew where-e’er the horses drove, nor knew
                Whither the horses drove, or where he flew. 

 

 

 

R ! chard

 

 

 

 

The Story of Phaeton (IV) – Ovid

dawn.jpg!Large

    “Dawn (1873) 

 

           Fyodor Vasilyev

 

                     _______

 

 

 

                Thus did the God th’ unwary youth advise; 

 

Helios / Phoebus / Apollo tells his

son Phaeton, th’ unwary youth, 

that he shouldn’t try to ride the 

Chariot of the Sun himself


                But he still longs to travel through the skies. 

 

Phaeton, however, is inclined to

disregard his father’s advice


                When the fond father (for in vain he pleads)
                At length to the Vulcanian Chariot leads. 

 

Vulcanian, of Vulcan, god of fire,

metal, metalworkers

 

Vulcan, according to Ovid here, 

built the Chariot of the Sun 


                A golden axle did the work uphold, 

 

the axle is the principal part, the 

beam between the wheels, that 

holds the chariot together, that 

did the work, which is to say

the chariot, uphold


                Gold was the beam, the wheels were orb’d with gold.
                The spokes in rows of silver pleas’d the sight,
                The seat with party-colour’d gems was bright; 

 

the chariot was made of precious 

metals and gems, was therefore 

bright, resplendent

 

                Apollo shin’d amid the glare of light. 

 

Apollo, Sun god, would surely, as 

well as the chariot, be radiant, 

glowing

 

note that the Sun god is called 

Apollo here, where earlier he’d

been called Phoebus, the Latin 

name replacing the Greek, but

upon further investigation I found

that it was Dryden who’d made 

the switch, Ovid had called the 

Sun god Phoebus in the original

Latin text


                The youth with secret joy the work surveys, 

 

Phaeton is beside himself, eager 

with anticipation


                When now the moon disclos’d her purple rays; 

 

purple rays, tinged with the colours 

of dawn

 

see above


                The stars were fled, for Lucifer had chased
                The stars away, and fled himself at last. 

 

Lucifer, the Morning Star, the

planet Venus, as it appears in 

the East before sunrise

 

having suspected Dryden of having

replaced with Lucifer another name 

from the original Latin text, I was 

surprised to discover that Lucifer

had been indeed translated faithfully 

from Ovid’s poem, which means that 

the Christian name we’re familiar 

with as another name for Satan has 

to have been adopted from the 

Ancients and modified to fit the new 

Christian mythology, the biblical

narrative 

 

Lucifer, a god in his own right in

Antiquity, had been the son of 

Aurora, goddess of the Dawn

 

do you love it

 

                Soon as the father saw the rosy morn,
                And the moon shining with a blunter horn, 

 

blunter, less incandescent, dulled

by the advancing light

 

horn, a lesser phase of the moon, 

when it is either waxing or waning, 

thus resembling a horn


                He bid the nimble Hours, without delay,
                Bring forth the steeds; the nimble Hours obey: 

 

the Hours, or Horae, goddesses 

of the Seasons, horae is the 

Greek word for seasons


                From their full racks the gen’rous steeds retire, 

 

retire, come away, from their stalls

in the stables


                Dropping ambrosial foams, and snorting fire. 

 

ambrosial, especially fragrant, or

tasty


                Still anxious for his son, the God of day,
                To make him proof against the burning ray,
                His temples with celestial ointment wet,
                Of sov’reign virtue to repel the heat; 

 

celestial ointment, ambrosia,

elixir of the gods

 

sov’reign virtue, exceedingly effective

attribute


                Then fix’d the beamy circle on his head, 

 

beamy circle, radiant halo of

solar rays


                And fetch’d a deep foreboding sigh, and said,
                “Take this at least, this last advice, my son,
                Keep a stiff rein, and move but gently on:
                The coursers of themselves will run too fast,
                Your art must be to moderate their haste.
                Drive ’em not on directly through the skies,
                But where the Zodiac’s winding circle lies,
                Along the midmost Zone; but sally forth
                Nor to the distant south, nor stormy north.
                The horses’ hoofs a beaten track will show,
                But neither mount too high, nor sink too low.
                That no new fires, or Heav’n or Earth infest;
                Keep the mid way, the middle way is best.
                Nor, where in radiant folds the serpent twines,
                Direct your course, nor where the altar shines. 

 

serpent twines, serpentine, tortuous

entanglements

 

altar, probably alter, or other, light 

sources, the moon, for instance,

the Morning Star, do not be 

distracted by bright lights, 

Phoebus / Apollo advises


                Shun both extreams; the rest let Fortune guide, 
                And better for thee than thy self provide! 

 

Fortune, or Fortuna, goddess of Fate,

will be of greater help to you, Phoebus 

/ Apollo tells his son, than you, thy self,

can provide for yourself 

 

compare this last fatherly advice,

incidentally, to that of Polonius to

Laertes, his own son, act I, scene 

3, lines 55 to 81 in Shakespeare’s 

Hamlet, proof that Shakespeare 

was not only well acquainted 

with Ovid, but also much 

admired him

 

                See, while I speak, the shades disperse away,
                Aurora gives the promise of a day; 

 

Aurora, goddess of the Dawn


                I’m call’d, nor can I make a longer stay. 

 

I’m call’d, the time has come to 

mount the Chariot of the Sun, 

the morning breaks, I must, or

you must, in my stead, go


                Snatch up the reins; or still th’ attempt forsake,
                And not my chariot, but my counsel, take,
                While yet securely on the Earth you stand;
                Nor touch the horses with too rash a hand.
                Let me alone to light the world, while you
                Enjoy those beams which you may safely view.” 

 

should you choose to my counsel, take, 

from the Earth you may safely view my 

beams while I alone … light the world, 

Phoebus / Apollo implores his son


                He spoke in vain; the youth with active heat
                And sprightly vigour vaults into the seat;
                And joys to hold the reins, and fondly gives
                Those thanks his father with remorse receives.

 

for better, or for worse

 

stay tuned

 

 

R ! chard