...Between the Lines...

The Hesperides

THE Northwind fall’n, in the newstarréd night
Zidonian Hanno, voyaging beyond
The hoary promontory of Soloë
Past Thymiaterion, in calmèd bays,
Between the Southern and the Western Horn,
Heard neither warbling of the nightingale,
Nor melody o’ the Lybian lotusflute
Blown seaward from the shore; but from a slope
That ran bloombright into the Atlantic blue,
Beneath a highland leaning down a weight
Of cliffs, and zoned below with cedarshade,
Came voices, like the voices in a dream,
Continuous till he reached the other sea.

SONG

I

The golden apple, the golden apple, the hallowed fruit,
Guard it well, guard it warily,
Singing airily,
Standing about the charmèd root.
Round about all is mute,
As the snowfield on the mountain-peaks,
As the sandfield at the mountain-foot.
Crocodiles in briny creeks
Sleep and stir not: all is mute.
If ye sing not, if ye make false measure,
We shall lose eternal pleasure,
Worth eternal want of rest.
Laugh not loudly: watch the treasure
Of the wisdom of the West.
In a corner wisdom whispers. Five and three
(Let it not be preached abroad) make an awful mystery.
For the blossom unto three-fold music bloweth;
Evermore it is born anew;
And the sap to three-fold music floweth,
From the root
Drawn in the dark,
Up to the fruit,
Creeping under the fragrant bark,
Liquid gold, honeysweet thro’ and thro’.
Keen-eyed Sisters, singing airily,
Looking warily
Every way,
Guard the apple night and day,
Lest one from the East come and take it away.

II

Father Hesper, Father Hesper, watch, watch, ever and aye,
Looking under silver hair with a silver eye.
Father, twinkle not thy stedfast sight;
Kingdoms lapse, and climates change, and races die;
Honour comes with mystery;
Hoarded wisdom brings delight.
Number, tell them over and number
How many the mystic fruit-tree holds,
Lest the redcombed dragon slumber
Rolled together in purple folds.
Look to him, father, lest he wink, and the golden apple be stol’n away,
For his ancient heart is drunk with overwatchings night and day,
Round about the hallowed fruit tree curled—
Sing away, sing aloud and evermore in the wind, without stop,
Lest his scalèd eyelid drop,
For he is older than the world.
If he waken, we waken,
Rapidly levelling eager eyes.
If he sleep, we sleep,
Dropping the eyelid over the eyes.
If the golden apple be taken
The world will be overwise.
Five links, a golden chain, are we,
Hesper, the dragon, and sisters three,
Bound about the golden tree.

III

Father Hesper, Father Hesper, watch, watch, night and day,
Lest the old wound of the world be healèd,
The glory unsealèd,
The golden apple stol’n away,
And the ancient secret revealèd.
Look from west to east along:
Father, old Himla weakens, Caucasus is bold and strong.
Wandering waters unto wandering waters call;
Let them clash together, foam and fall.
Out of watchings, out of wiles,
Comes the bliss of secret smiles,
All things are not told to all,
Half round the mantling night is drawn,
Purplefringed with even and dawn.
Hesper hateth Phosphor, evening hateth morn.

IV

Every flower and every fruit the redolent breath
Of this warm seawind ripeneth,
Arching the billow in his sleep;
But the land-wind wandereth,
Broken by the highland-steep,
Two streams upon the violet deep:
For the western sun and the western star,
And the low west wind, breathing afar,
The end of day and beginning of night
Make the apple holy and bright,
Holy and bright, round and full, bright and blest,
Mellowed in a land of rest;
Watch it warily day and night;
All good things are in the west,
Till midnoon the cool east light
Is shut out by the round of the tall hillbrow;
But when the fullfaced sunset yellowly
Stays on the flowering arch of the bough,
The luscious fruitage clustereth mellowly,
Goldenkernelled, goldencored,
Sunset ripened, above on the tree,
The world is wasted with fire and sword,
But the apple of gold hangs over the sea,
Five links, a golden chain, are we,
Hesper, the dragon, and sisters three,
           Daughters three,
           Bound about
           All round about
The gnarlèd bole of the charmèd tree,
The golden apple, the golden apple, the hallowed fruit,
Guard it well, guard it warily,
           Watch it warily,
           Singing airily,
Standing about the charmèd root.

Long arms of moonlight are stretching out
To the gigantic river,
For touching those soft curls
Of her dark coloured hair.
Eyes more emerald
Than Amazon’s quiet dream
Glowing too bright,
Embarrassing the fluorescence of water.
Resting hands on the fair breasts
She is floating on her back
Gazing at the blessed blue sky.
While silvery cream of starlets
Is nourishing every wet curve
Of her slender body, with
Gentle caress.
But the unfortunate humans are
Still unable to witness
The mystery of her beauty,
Which is carefully confined
Inside the secret chest of Iara, Mãe das Águas.

A Prayer to Inari Ōkami

Humbly, I approach the kami of Inari in prayer.

With awe and reverence,

I humbly speak these words:

Morning and night, I will diligently work at my tasks,

My family will not lessen its focus, nor will we neglect anything undone.

I pray that the kami bestow on me encouragement and support to meet all challenges.

Grant that the divine winds bring prosperity to my family.

Bestow long life that is strong and solid.

Grant that my descendants, for countless generations,

Know protections, health, and longevity.

Grant us safety from malevolent kami, and grant that my home and my body be protected from any malevolent deeds.

If I commit an error, if I stray from my intended path, I pray that the kami help me correct my way.

That once again I may hear clearly,

That once again I may sit with open mind.

Protect me in night.

Protect me and shelter me in day.

Grant me happiness.

With awe and reverence, I humbly speak these words.

“Bring the light, uplift and show its flame! I am doing the god’s service, see! I making his shrine to glow with tapers bright. O Hymen, king of marriage! blest is the bridegroom; blest am I also, the maiden soon to wed a princely lord in Argos. Hail Hymen, king of marriage!”

Euripides’s The Trojan Women, v. 307-313.

Oh Muse! With visions Thou hast filled my soul, With visions overpowering, for Thou Hast shown me Golden Aphrodite; now The blaze emboldens me; like coal To brighter burning fanned by Breath Divine, The Cyprian enflameth me with words, Seductive sounds, which swiftly would entwine My soul, as lime-twigs trap unwary birds. An Ancient Poet spake the truth; he said When Cypris cometh swift, high-spirited Just like a Hero - irresistible Her onslaught, nor may anyone annul Her summons; flouting Her is arrogance, A failure to respect the difference `Tween Gods and Mortals; nor can even They Resist Her Power. She is held at bay By only three: Athena, Bright-Eyed Maid, And Artemis, who haunts both wood and glade, And Hestia reject the Paphian’s Dove, For They alone deny delights of Love. The Cyprian’s summons is a challenge. Be Thou brave and answer it, for verily A God hath willed it; surely stinging grief Will be refusal’s price, so seek relief, Conforming to the Paphian’s Will. So spake the Poet Truths he would instill. Far-shining Aphrodite, hear our prayer! Thou Laughter-loving Lady, Paphian, Well-girded, Golden, Sea-born, Cyprian, Companion, Tender-hearted, or howe'er It pleaseth Thee to be addressed, attend, We ask, our words of praise, and send Thy Grace, because Thou art the source of all That’s charming, graceful, all that doth enthrall In word or deed, in action, figure, face. For Thine is the allure that doth enlace Our hearts as one, for as the charmed is bound, So also is the charmer quickly found Surrendering, with yearning undisguised, The compromiser gladly compromised! But irresistible is even this, Seducer falling to seduction; bliss Repaid is twofold bliss, drawing tight The bonds about them both, in shared delight. Come hither foam-born Cyprian goddess, come, And in golden goblets pour richest nectar All mixed in most ethereal perfection, Thus to delight us. Hymn and Invocation of Aphrodite by Apollonius Sophistes

1. I sing of the Mistress of the Labyrinth, holy maid, with rich, wine-dark tresses and golden crown, keeper of the Bull, Goddess of the crops, Holy Asasara, Princess of Heaven. The jewel of her crown is the starry sky.

You toss your head in dance, upturn the soil and let life burst forth: the blossom and fruit; the calving and women crying out in travail, then turn your gaze toward the North Wind, leaving the Earth  fallow and silent.

Mournful are those who see not the face of Asasara: dust is their drink, and clay their food. Sackcloth is their garment. Joyous are those upon whom she looks: their flocks are numerous, their harvest without measure, their cups are never empty.

Many times born and many times dead is Asasara, for she loved life, and loved the living world, but all that is born must die, and all that begins must end: this is her law, enduring forever. To Earth she came in the form of a maid, and Ariadne was her name among men.

Come forth, Asasara, Ariadne, and alongside the golden-haired Muses, inspire me to tell your tale.

2. Hail to the maid of whom Pasiphae bore, sister to to the blessed Minotaur! Surpassing the Fates in weaving, voluptuous, clever and subtle, beloved Ariadne.

You are like storm and fire and ice, loud-lamenting, wild-rejoicing. The sea-girt land trembles in the wake of your frenzied dancing, the deep-billowing sea shudders at your weeping, the deluge and gail bow to your rage.

A subtle mind had Ariadne, surpassing the genius of mortal men by leaps and bounds. To her were given the secrets of the knot-work, her mysteries were told even unto the lands of Phrygia.

Hail to the Lady of the Golden Thread who gave to Theseus, famed abductor of women, a klew, that he should not have to slay the sacred Bull, but he killed it nonetheless and stole away from Crete with Ariadne and her mortal sister in tow.

Lo, the land of Minos rattled, and bull leapt not on cow, nor did the Earth give fruit there, for the spirit of Asasara departed with her.

The souls of ancient kings gave testimony: “Never more shall we receive offerings from our descendants, if Ariadne’s soul does not return. The whole land will be empty of everything but dry sand, salted earth and the bleached bones of man and beast alike.”

“Return,” cried the maid of animals, “Remember yourself, Asasara, and return to your people.”

Ariadne did not her nor answer, but deep within her heart, the soul of Asasara awoke and became restless. The deep bosom of the sea was troubled, and the storm rose up at her gaze. Loud-crashing thunder and lightning bolts made the tall waves of the ocean glow like a dozen moons, until the ship and crew were forced to come ashore at a place called Dia.

Furious Thalassa stood up and threw herself upon the sand there, and black clouds shot white-hot bolts at the hills as the winds tore apart trees, crying, “Blasphemy!”

“On account of this foreigner,” said Zagreus, “My grotto is being destroyed.”

And Artemis let loose silvery arrows, setting free the soul of Asasara from mortal flesh. You died a maiden at the hand of a maiden, but to flesh you longed to return. A libation of honey-wine to Asasara is due, but I shall go on to tell another tale.

3. Cursed is Theseus, cursed is he, who received many gifts at the hands of Goddesses, but honored them not. In his youth he bore Ariadne away, but had no joy in her. In his old age, he bore her away a second time, but finding her pregnant, he abandoned her in a no-man’s land, and she died before ever giving birth.

When she arose again in Knossos, Dionysos appeared at the first bloom of her womanhood, and took her as his buxom bride, for even in her childhood, her beauty was like that of a goddess.

He was married to her, saying, “I will never have another.”

4. I sing of Ariadne, fearsome warrior, leader of Sirens, leader of the dancing daughters of Poseidon, frightful Ariadne of leather armor and copper swords.

Alongside Dionysos, Ariadne of the ghastly wail and rapturous song, did battle against the armies of Perseus for the sake of her Bride-groom’s name. Leading the sirens in dance, she turned, whirling, the sun glinting off of polished copper, making wine-dark hair shine golden, showing her divine inheritance.

Alongside mighty warriors, and the monstrous Kyklopai Ariadne fought. Perseus saw the frenzied sea-maidens, heard the song of the sirens, took aim and pierced the side of dread-dancing Ariadne with a thrown spear, but the dancing of Ariadne was not slowed. Blood soaked the Earth, yet feet still trampled, eyes still flashed, and the hideous, bewitching song, unending, caused warrior after warrior to fall, as whirling swords with frightful glint made black blood rain upon the dusty ground.

In despair, Perseus unveiled the dread visage of Medusa turning the holy maid, still fragrant from her martial bed, into a stone. Time, sand and tide have washed away her face, in the frozen grip of battle’s ecstasy, but to this day, the stone remains, and to those who are close to the brink of madness, her song can still be heard.

Great was the sorrow of her husband, and madness has gripped him ever since. The Gordion knot was cut by a sword, and his names fell into threads and ribbons. He walked the labyrinth but did not find the soul of Ariadne, and so he went to Athens, and established days in honor of her. In the Winter he searches the depths of Hades, in the Spring, the women draw lots, that Princess Ariadne might be revealed, and again become his Queen, but she is not to be found.

Lo, Ariadne stands as a stone in the lands of Perseus, but the soul of Asasara yet lives, and all things that die are born again, for such is her law.

To Asasara, give tokens of sea-shells, and she shall fasten a waist belt from the bounty of the sea with a thread spun from silver, but listen, for I have yet another song.

5. I sing of Ariadne, jilted lover of the wine-dark god.

Let your sharp tongue tell of his deeds, that famed son of woman-mad Kronion, who promised you fidelity, but gave it not. Thrice slain by his hand: In the grotto of Dia, once when you were great with child, and lastly, let it be told of how he used his fame as a hammer against you, telling only of mortal Ariadne while denying Queenly Asasara, the goddess of Crete.

Tell of how he, seeking to usurp your power, O Mistress of Life and Death, threw your crown into the vault of the star-spangled sky, that it might never again return to Earth.

The wrath of Ariadne shook the Earth, and the lands of Minos were torn asunder with fire and drowned  by deep-swelling, secret-keeping Thalassa as payment for the slight, in that place where Dionysos was accorded honor in place of holy Adnon.

The Labyrinth of the Holy Maid was never seen again.

“Cursed are they,” said Asasara, “Who diminish me. Cursed are they who cause other gods to be worshipped in my temples. Let it also be so for them, that lesser beings will come and cast them out of their temples, and let them wander as I wander, and hunger as I hunger. To those who would not make a place for me at their table, let them drink as horses drink, from perpetually muddy water.”

6. But now, Muses, let me sing of Repentent Asasara and gentle Ariadne, five times born and five times dead, awakening in darkness, and in darkness born anew, springing forth from the chasm of the Earth on an immortal mare of fiery breath and gusting mane, crowned with gold and armed with copper, ungirt Ariadne with unbound tresses.

Hail to you, Ariadne, that neither stone, nor the bonds of marriage could hold, nor even the icy grasp of death, for on this day, you ride forth from the silent darkness of Hell, and into the light of Dawn.

On this day, trample jealousy as you ride, and let love’s law be love alone. Trample retribution and vengeance under hoof, summon once more the sea maidens to sing their requiem.

Toss your head in dance, once more, holy maid, and shatter the bonds of the oppressed with loud laughter!

Aphrodite and Ariadne, honored as one, let love be set loose — If laws against love be written on stone, let stone shatter. If they are written on paper, then let paper burn. If they are dye upon cloth, let the ink run away like blood.

With great and overflowing  mercy, call back your diadem from among the stars, and let the power of Asasara be known once more in the world of men.

To you, Asasara, Ariadne, Hail, and may a drink be offered to all the gods in your name.

Lost Hymns to Ariadne 1-3

Dance, young daughter of Arcadia,
With the children of shepherds do you revel
Ever fresh and ever new is the world to the goddess, Alea
Her innocence, indomitable
Her curiosity, insatiable
Her imagination, unfathomable by grown men
Shunning adult things, turning away from worry and care
Eschewing competitions, never turning thoughts to marriage
Living in the present, and not the future
Fierce, young, golden-haired goddess
You are fearless, like the young are fearless
Not shouting down the fear within your soul,
Nor pushing aside knowledge of danger
But dancing, ever, in and out of battle
Incapable of imagining defeat
Come forth, Alea
With the Muses tell your tale, so long forgotten

Far away from white-armed Hera, Zeus strayed
To the bed of Merope, that mother of the famed toy-maker
Pushing aside Sisyphus, founder of Ephyre
To satisfy his desire for the silver-tongued Pleiad
For she was abounding with contagious joy and love of life

In the far-off land of Arcadia, Merope gave birth to Alea
Away from her husband, she contemplated her woe
And called upon the power of Ouranos and Gaia, saying,
“I have suffered because of marriage, and because of lust,
I have suffered because of my full-grown womb.
Let therefore this daughter of mine never see womanhood
Nor ever be the object of affection for man or god
But rather, let her grow to vivacious girlhood
And dwell there forever.
Answer, O Mother Earth, for you have known the sorrow of Rape
Answer, O Father Sky, for because of desire for Gaia, your member was severed.”
So saying, she swaddled the newborn goddess in cloths dyed with chaste berry

Mother Earth and Father Sky answered
Alea grew up into girlhood as a goddess
But never was she touched by adolescence
Nor did any womanly curve mark her form.

Hail to Alea, goddess and leader of young children!
But hark, for I have yet another tale to tell.

Lost Hymns 1-3: To Alea

An ancient myth tells of a once great city of Valantis, lain to ruins by the Evils of Aticus, and the eclipsing wrath of the great Poseidon, this ballad tells of the ferocious battle which ensued.

Swallowed by his legendary monstrous irate wrath, He decimated his foes with a unstoppable devastating force, forever entombing their grotesque souls into the gargoyles within the Greek God’s domain.A thousand shipwrecks riddle the canyons of Valantis from the Aticus invasion.

In a quiet hidden isle of Shipwreck Canyon, where the sweetest melodies cascade the shallow laughing waves with such simple ease.

Abruptly cut short, the divine assonance suddenly fades away.. A silver glimmering scaled creature looming in the lagoon.A mermaiden. Her silver elegant fish-like tail mystifying her graceful mystique, brushing her sapphired hair out of her beryl coloured eyes.

She intently listens then swims up to the surface for a quick telescopic look.

Gliding up to the waves, she gently treads her long silver tail, then she sharply turns around to scan the waters for any looming threat.

Shadows hovering near the shoals. One.. Two.. Three.. Come into sight. Only a few feet to the top.Air! Barreling upon her, three enormous Aticus titan battleships break the billowing breakers with tremendous and colossal fury.

No time to think, instinct takes over as she dives down to a safe distance, far below the impending gloom, she waits. As soon as the titans roared past, briefly gracing the surface again. Quickly surveying the horizon for any other threatening titans.

Ambiting the horizon with black sails, bringing fourth a seemingly inpenretable titan fleet of Aticus. Impeding the skyline, a thousand ships descend upon the great city of Valantis.

Swimming safely back to her lagoon, accessing the situation and helplessly looking onwards..

Glancing back at her city, she saw a white silverish glimmer shoot up from the heart of the city below and clash the waves above with such a climactic thunderous earthquake that it ruptured the tectonic ground around Valantis spewing out volcanic ash and the fury of ten thousand gods onto nearby titans and as His exasperated voice erupted into ship-splintering treachery with every epic thrust at His command.

Only one deity could have the power to command the waters of the seas to do that.

Poseidon.

Arising from the abyss, blindingly shimmering out of the depths, His golden Trident drew fourth and commanded the thunderbolts, endlessly to strike his foes with unbearable skeleton splicing agony.

Twenty thousand souls lost in one colossal battle, twenty thousand corpses strewn across the sea.

As the waters begin to ease and the stormy seas begin to subside, the once great Poseidon exerted his mighty strength upon his foe, with no ounce of god strength left within Himself, He slowly diminishes back into His great, now forgotten holy city of Valatis.

All those men she thought.. All those souls are lost now.

She cautiously darts to the sea-surface, perching herself on a nearby drifting shipwrecked ship piece and, feeling overburdened with great sadness, tears riveting down her silverish scaled body, she lifts her voice unto the heavens, and forlornly begins to sing her mournful song. A Mermaid’s Song.

The Fay had flown from fairy-land
To usher spring on earth;
With golden tresses, wand in hand,
Her beauty caused much mirth.

Like butterfly, white winged, she came
In flowing bridal veil;
And as she trod the world, the dame,
Flowers of hues filled dale.

The air perfumed spread far and wide
And lured insects and birds;
She glanced around landscape with pride,
And spoke soft verdure words.

The queen of seasons, spring brought cheer
And winter vanished fast;
Then came all beasts including deer,
Victim of magic cast.



Spring’s Fairy Queen by John Celes

“The Fumigation from Storax.
Hermes I call, whom Fate decrees to dwell in the dire path which leads to deepest hades.O Bakkheios Hermes, progeny divine of Dionysos, parent of the vine, and of celestial Aphrodite, Paphian queen, dark eye-lash’d Goddess of a lovely mien: Who constant wand'rest thro’ the sacred feats
where hell’s dread empress, Persephone, retreats;
To wretched souls the leader of thc way when Fate decrees, to regions void of day: Thine is the wand which causes sleep to fly, or lulls to slumb'rous rest the weary eye;
For Persephone’s thro’ Tart'rus dark and wide gave thee forever flowing souls to guide.
Come, blessed pow'r the sacrifice attend, and grant our mystic works a happy end.”

Orphic Hymn 56 to Hermes Chthonius