#WingedWordsWindsday: 11/24/2021 -- Welcome to Orion, Warrior-Hero of the Night Sky!

 

WINGED WORDS WINDSDAY

Compiled by Rob Chappell (@RHCLambengolmo)

Vol. 1, No. 4: November 24, 2021

 

 

Welcome to Orion, the Warrior-Hero of the Night Sky!

Editor’s Note

                The constellation Orion the Hunter is rising in the East by midevening now – one of the most prominent figures portrayed on the sky’s dome by our distant ancestors. Probably modeled on Gilgamesh, the legendary King of Uruk in Mesopotamia (early 3^rd millennium BCE), Orion is one of the most easily recognized constellations, appearing as a giant warrior-hero in the night sky. Here are three classic poems (followed by an article about Gilgamesh) to welcome Orion back into the evening sky.

 

“The Winter Scene: Part II” by Bliss Carman (1861-1929)

Out from the silent portal of the hours,

When frosts are come and all the hosts put on.

Their burnished gear to march across the night

And o'er a darkened Earth in splendor shine,

Slowly above the world Orion wheels

His glittering square, while on the shadowy hill

And throbbing like a sea-light through the dusk,

Great Sirius rises in his flashing blue.

Lord of the winter night, august and pure,

Returning year on year untouched by time,

To hearten faith with thine unfaltering fire,

There are no hurts that beauty cannot ease,

No ills that love cannot at last repair,

In the victorious progress of the soul.

 

“Stars” by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall (1883-1922)

Now in the West the slender Moon lies low,

And now Orion glimmers through the trees,

Clearing the Earth with even pace and slow,

And now the stately-moving Pleiades,

In that soft infinite darkness overhead

Hang jewel-wise upon a silver thread.

And all the lonelier stars that have their place,

Calm lamps within the distant southern sky,

And planet-dust upon the edge of space,

Look down upon the fretful world, and I

Look up to outer vastness unafraid

And see the stars which sang when Earth was made.

 

“Winter Stars” (1920)

By Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)

I went out at night alone;

The young blood flowing beyond the sea

Seemed to have drenched my spirit’s wings —

I bore my sorrow heavily.

But when I lifted up my head

From shadows shaken on the snow,

I saw Orion in the east

Burn steadily as long ago.

From windows in my father’s house,

Dreaming my dreams on winter nights,

I watched Orion as a girl

Above another city’s lights.

Years go, dreams go, and youth goes too,

The world’s heart breaks beneath its wars,

All things are changed, save in the east

The faithful beauty of the stars.

 

“Leadership Lessons from Gilgamesh, the World’s First Superhero” by Rob Chappell, M.A.

Adapted & Expanded from Cursus Honorum VII: 4 (November 2006)

Read an English translation of the Gilgamesh Epic @ https://www.jasoncolavito.com/epic-of-gilgamesh.html and its epilogue at https://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk/section1/tr1813.htm.

                The Gilgamesh Epic is the oldest extant epic poem in world literature. Based on a series of Sumerian heroic poems from the late third millennium BCE, the epic was compiled in Mesopotamia during the 18th century BCE in the Akkadian language. The plot of the epic revolves around the adventures of Gilgamesh, an early King of the city-state of Uruk (reigned ca. 27th century BCE). The compilers of the epic wove together a tapestry of heroic tales that had gathered around Gilgamesh into a single action-packed narrative.

                According to the epic, Gilgamesh was the son of the mortal human King Lugalbanda and the goddess Ninsumunak. The narrative opens with the story of how King Gilgamesh met the wildman Enkidu and describes how the two heroes be-came steadfast warrior-companions. The poem continues with exciting battle sequences, in which Gilgamesh and Enkidu destroyed the ogre Humbaba in the Cedar Forest of Lebanon and slew the Bull of Heaven when it went rampaging through the streets of Uruk.

                The gods were angered by the slaying of the Bull of Heaven, so they afflicted Enkidu with a fatal illness. Gilgamesh was devastated by his warrior-companion’s death and set off on a quest to find the secret of immortality, lest he suffer the same fate as Enkidu. The King of Uruk passed through many perils as he journeyed to a faraway eastern land, near the gates of the sunrise. There, Gilgamesh met Siduri (an immortal sage and seer), Urshanabi (the boatman who ferried Gilgamesh across the Waters of Death), and finally Utnapishtim (the Mesopotamian equivalent of Noah), who along with his wife had been granted immortality after the great Flood.

                Gilgamesh found and then lost the secret of eternal youth on his way back home to Uruk, but he returned to his native city a wiser man. He had discovered – through finding and loss – that true friendship can change one’s life forever. Gilgamesh had also learned that although death is unavoidable for mortals, we should celebrate life while it lasts and undertake heroic deeds to benefit others. At the end of his long reign as King of Uruk, Gilgamesh died and was buried, and the Divine Council of the gods made him the Prince of the Otherworld, where he was reunited with his beloved family and with his warrior-companion Enkidu. As the Prince of the Otherworld, he meted out justice and mercy to the dead based on the wisdom and understanding that he had gained during his lifetime on Earth.

                Gilgamesh has become a pop culture hero in recent decades, as his epic story (which was lost for over 2000 years) has now been translated into several modern languages. Whatever historical truth may lie behind his legend, Gilgamesh is remembered still today because the leadership lessons that he exemplified are timeless truths that appear again and again throughout world literature. Mortality will come to us all, Gilgamesh would say, but while life lasts, let us spend it in service to others through heroic deeds and teaching wisdom by example. As the Akkadian epic poets wrote of the world’s first superhero, some 4000 years ago:

 

“He who the heart of all matters has proven, let him teach the nation, He who all knowledge possesses, therein shall he school all the people, He shall his wisdom impart and so shall they share it together. Gilgamesh — he was the Master of wisdom, with knowledge of all things, He it was who discovered the secret concealed. Aye, he handed down the tradition relating to things prediluvian, He went on a journey afar, all aweary and worn with his toiling. He engraved on a tablet of stone all the travail.”

à Prologue to the Gilgamesh Epic (Slightly Modernized by the Editor from the 1929 Translation by R. Campbell Thompson)

 

The Editor (costumed as Taliesin, a time-traveling bard from Welsh mythology) performed an original story entitled “The Lost Years of Gilgamesh: Before the Epic” at the iSchool’s annual Storytelling Festival in April 2017. The constellation Orion (at right) was identified in ancient Mesopotamian skylore with Gilgamesh, the world’s first superhero. (Photo Credit: iSchool Staff)

Thanksgiving Week 2021

Hello Everyone –

On this 400^th anniversary of the first Thanksgiving celebration in Plymouth Colony, we remember this historic proclamation by President Abraham Lincoln, inviting Americans to celebrate the annual Thanksgiving holiday, despite the ravages of the ongoing Civil War, on Thursday, November 26, 1863. Here is the official invitation, given by President Lincoln several weeks earlier, to cement the national Thanksgiving holiday on the last Thursday in November (where it remained until 1940, when it was moved slightly earlier to the fourth Thursday in November, as proposed by President Franklin Roosevelt and later approved by Congress).

 

By the President of the United States of America

A Proclamation

The year that is drawing towards its close, has been filled with the blessings of fruitful fields and healthful skies. To these bounties, which are so constantly enjoyed that we are prone to forget the source from which they come, others have been added, which are of so extraordinary a nature, that they cannot fail to penetrate and soften even the heart which is habitually insensible to the ever watchful providence of Almighty God. In the midst of a civil war of unequaled magnitude and severity, which has sometimes seemed to foreign States to invite and to provoke their aggression, peace has been preserved with all nations, order has been maintained, the laws have been respected and obeyed, and harmony has prevailed everywhere except in the theatre of military conflict; while that theatre has been greatly contracted by the advancing armies and navies of the Union. Needful diversions of wealth and of strength from the fields of peaceful industry to the national defense, have not arrested the plough, the shuttle or the ship; the axe has enlarged the borders of our settlements, and the mines, as well of iron and coal as of the precious metals, have yielded even more abundantly than heretofore. Population has steadily increased, notwithstanding the waste that has been made in the camp, the siege and the battle-field; and the country, rejoicing in the consciousness of augmented strength and vigor, is permitted to expect continuance of years with large increase of freedom. No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy. It has seemed to me fit and proper that they should be solemnly, reverently and gratefully acknowledged as with one heart and one voice by the whole American People. I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens. And I recommend to them that while offering up the ascriptions justly due to Him for such singular deliverances and blessings, they do also, with humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience, commend to His tender care all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife in which we are unavoidably engaged, and fervently implore the interposition of the Almighty Hand to heal the wounds of the nation and to restore it as soon as may be consistent with the Divine purposes to the full enjoyment of peace, harmony, tranquility and Union.

In testimony whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and caused the Seal of the United States to be affixed.

Done at the City of Washington, this Third day of October, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, and of the Independence of the Unites States the Eighty-eighth.

By the President: Abraham Lincoln

William H. Seward, Secretary of State

 

We close this edition of Quotemail with a popular song from President Lincoln’s time, to remind us to be grateful for all the everyday blessings that we enjoy.

 

“Simple Gifts” (1848)

By Shaker Elder Joseph Brackett, Jr. (1797-1882)

1. 'Tis the gift to be simple,
'tis the gift to be free,
'tis the gift to come down where you ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
It will be in the valley of love and delight.

Refrain: 

When true simplicity is gained,
To bow and to bend we shan't be ashamed.
To turn, turn will be our delight,
'Til by turning, turning we come round right.

2. 'Tis the gift to be loved and that love to return,
'Tis the gift to be taught and a richer gift to learn,
And when we expect of others what we try to live each day,
Then we'll all live together and we'll all learn to say,

Refrain

3. 'Tis the gift to have friends and a true friend to be,
'Tis the gift to think of others not to only think of "me,"
And when we hear what others really think and really feel,
Then we'll all live together with a love that is real. 

Refrain

Quotemail will return in 2 weeks, and dispatches will be sent out on each of the first three weekends in December to help spread holiday cheer amid the busyness of the semester’s end. Wishing all our readers a relaxing and enjoyable Fall Break, and a happy holiday season to follow.

Rob 😊

 

#WingedWordsWindsday: 11/17/2021 -- In Tenebris Lux: Reflections on Homer

 

WINGED WORDS WINDSDAY

Compiled by Rob Chappell (@RHCLambengolmo)

Vol. 1, No. 3: November 17, 2021

 

In Tenebris Lux: Reflections on Homer

“Ad Niniannam, Sibyllam Caecam et Animam Caram”

Editor’s Note

                In recent months, I have been doing a lot of reminiscing about Homer, the legendary epic poet of ancient Greece – thinking not only about the poems and tales ascribed to him, but also about Homer as a literary character himself. As a Classics major at the University of Illinois during the late 1980s and early 1990s, Homer was an inspirational figure to me because I have lived all my life with low vision, and he was widely believed in antiquity to have been blind. Here is a short introduction to Homeric studies, along with my favorite poem about Homer, and a short Homeric hymn to the Muses.

 

Excerpts from Chapter 35 of The Age of Fable by Thomas Bulfinch (1796-1867)

                Homer, from whose poems of the Iliad and Odyssey we have taken the chief part of our chapters of the Trojan War and the return of the Grecians, is almost as mythical a personage as the heroes he celebrates. The traditionary story is that he was a wandering minstrel, blind and old, who travelled from place to place singing his lays to the music of his harp, in the courts of princes or the cottages of peasants, and dependent upon the voluntary offerings of his hearers for support.

                The prevailing opinion of the learned, at this time, seems to be that the framework and much of the structure of the poems belong to Homer, but that there are numerous interpolations and additions by other hands. The date assigned to Homer, on the authority of Herodotus, is 850 BC.

 

“In tenebris lux.” (Latin)

“In the darkness is the Light.”

 

“To Homer”

By John Keats (1795-1821)

Standing aloof in giant ignorance,

Of thee I hear and of the Cyclades,

As one who sits ashore and longs perchance

To visit dolphin-coral in deep seas.

So thou wast blind; -- but then the veil was rent,

For Jove uncurtained Heaven to let thee live,

And Neptune made for thee a spumy tent,

And Pan made sing for thee his forest-hive;

Aye on the shores of darkness there is light,

And precipices show untrodden green,

There is a budding morrow in midnight,

There is a triple sight in blindness keen;

Such seeing hadst thou, as it once befell

To Dian, Queen of Earth, and Heaven, and Hell.

 

Homeric Hymn #25: “To the Muses and Apollo”

Translated by Hugh G. Evelyn-White (1914)

                I will begin with the Muses and Apollo and Zeus. For it is through the Muses and Apollo that there are singers upon the Earth and players upon the lyre; but kings are from Zeus. Happy is he whom the Muses love: sweet flows speech from his lips.

                Hail, children of Zeus! Give honor to my song! And now I will remember you and another song also.

 

In this detail from The Parnassus by Raphael, Homer is wearing a crown of laurels atop Mount Parnassus, with Dante on his right and Virgil on his left.

A Birthday Tribute to Vidandi, My First Peer Mentor at the University of Illinois

EDITOR'S NOTE: This special blog post is dedicated to the memory of Vidandi, my first peer mentor at the University of Illinois. During the summer of 1987, between my freshling and sophomore years at Illinois, I was reading the Legends of Charlemagne volume of Bulfinch's Mythology, and it occurred to me that the good, wise wizard Melissa, depicted in the Italian Renaissance romances about Charlemagne and his knights, bore a strong resemblance to Vidandi, at least in my mind. Vidandi, two years my elder, took me under her wing, introduced me to her circle of friends, gave me sage advice about how to navigate campus life as a student with a disability, and showed me what philia (the love between friends) is all about.

Today would have been her 56th birthday, but her life was cut short by cancer a few years ago. This is my heartfelt tribute to Vidandi -- who was (and still is) truly the best friend of my undergraduate days at Illinois. Requiescat in potestate, amica mea. (Latin) = Rest in power, my friend.

In this illustration from a public-domain edition of Ariosto's Orlando Furioso, the good wizard Melissa (standing) imparts sage advice to the noble knight Bradamante (kneeling), a warrior woman who would later marry the Frankish paladin Rogero.

A Tribute to Vidandi on Her Birthday: November 15^th

Dedicated with Gratitude to My First Peer Mentor at the University of Illinois

Compiled by @RHCLambengolmo (2021)

 

“In that part of the book of my memory, before which little can be read, there is a heading, which says: ‘Incipit vita nova: Here begins the new life.’ Under that heading I find written the words that it is my intention to copy into this little book: and if not all, at least their essence.”

-- Dante (1265-1321): La Vita Nuova

 

“The Sack of the Gods”

By Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)

Strangers drawn from the ends of the Earth, jeweled and plumed were we;

I was Lord of the Inca race, and she was Queen of the Sea.

Under the stars beyond our stars where the new-forged meteors glow,

Hotly we stormed Valhalla, a million years ago!

Ever 'neath high Valhalla Hall the well-tuned horns begin,

When the swords are out in the underworld, and the weary gods come in.

Ever through high Valhalla Gate the Patient Angel goes;

He opens the eyes that are blind with hate – he joins the hands of foes.

Dust of the stars was under our feet, glitter of stars above;

Wrecks of our wrath dropped reeling down as we fought, and we spurned, and we strove.

Worlds upon worlds we tossed aside, and scattered them to and fro,

The night that we stormed Valhalla, a million years ago!

They are forgiven as they forgive all those dark wounds and deep.

Their beds are made on the Lap of Time, and they lie down and sleep.

They are forgiven as they forgive all those old wounds that bleed.

They shut their eyes from their worshippers; they sleep till the world has need.

She with the star I had marked for my own – I with my set desire –

Lost in the loom of the Night of Nights – lighted by worlds afire –

Met in a war against the gods where the headlong meteors glow,

Hewing our way to Valhalla, a million years ago!

They will come back – come back again, as long as the red Earth rolls.

He never wasted a leaf or a tree. Do you think He would squander souls?

 

“Everything perishes except the world itself and its keepers. But while life lasts, everything on Earth has its use. The wise seek ways to be helpful to the world, for the helpful ones are sure to live again.”

-- L. Frank Baum (1856-1919): The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus

 

“Death, Be Not Proud” (Holy Sonnet #10)

By John Donne (1571-1631)

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;

For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow

Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,

Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,

And soonest our best men with thee do go,

Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.

Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,

And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,

And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well

And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?

One short sleep past, we wake eternally,

And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

 

“From the unreal, lead us to the Real; from the darkness, lead us to the Light; from death, lead us to immortality.”

-- Brihadāraṇyaka Upanishad 1.3.28

 

“When Earth’s Last Picture Is Painted”

By Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)

When Earth's last picture is painted and the tubes are twisted and dried,

When the oldest colors have faded, and the youngest critic has died,

We shall rest, and faith, we shall need it – lie down for an aeon or two,

Till the Master of All Good Workmen shall put us to work anew.

And those that were good shall be happy: they shall sit in a golden chair;

They shall splash at a ten-league canvas with brushes of comet's hair.

They shall find real saints to draw from – Magdalene, Peter, and Paul;

They shall work for an age at a sitting and never be tired at all!

And only the Master shall praise us, and only the Master shall blame;

And no one will work for the money, and no one will work for the fame,

But each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,

Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the God of Things as They are!

 

“That is not dead which can eternal lie,

And with strange aeons even death may die.”

-- H. P. Lovecraft (1890-1937)

 

In this picture, we see Vidandi playing her guitar. She was a talented singer and songwriter who brought joy to all her adoring fans! (Digital image processed by the Editor.)

 

 

 

#WingedWordsWindsday: A Trio of Poems for November Days

 

WINGED WORDS WINDSDAY

Compiled by Rob Chappell (@RHCLambengolmo)

Vol. 1, No. 2: November 10, 2021

 

A Trio of Poems for November Days

 

“November Morning”

By Evaleen Stein (1863-1923)

A tingling, misty marvel

  Blew hither in the night,

And now the little peach-trees

  Are clasped in frozen light.

Upon the apple-branches

  An icy film is caught,

With trailing threads of gossamer

  In pearly patterns wrought.

The autumn sun, in wonder,

  Is gayly peering through

This silver-tissued network

  Across the frosty blue.

The weather-vane is fire-tipped,

  The honeysuckle shows

A dazzling icy splendor,

  And crystal is the rose.

Around the eaves are fringes

  Of icicles that seem

To mock the summer rainbows

  With many-colored gleam.

Along the walk, the pebbles

  Are each a precious stone;

The grass is tasseled hoarfrost,

  The clover jewel-sown.

Such sparkle, sparkle, sparkle

  Fills all the frosty air,

Oh, can it be that darkness

  Is ever anywhere!

 

“The Leaves”

(Anonymous)

The leaves had a wonderful frolic.

They danced to the wind’s loud song.

They whirled, and they floated, and scampered.

They circled and flew along.

The Moon saw the little leaves dancing.

Each looked like a small brown bird.

The Man in the Moon smiled and listened,

And this is the song he heard.

“The North Wind is calling, is calling,

And we must whirl round and round,

And then, when our dancing is ended,

We’ll make a warm quilt for the ground.:

 

“The North Wind Doth Blow”

(Traditional English Rhyme – 16th Century)

The north wind doth blow, and we shall have snow.

And what will poor robin do then, poor thing?

He’ll sit in a barn, and keep himself warm,

And hide his head under his wing, poor thing.

The north wind doth blow, and we shall have snow.

And what will the dormouse do then, poor thing?

Rolled up like a ball, in his nest snug and small,

He’ll sleep till warm weather comes in, poor thing.

The north wind doth blow, and we shall have snow.

And what will the children do then, poor things?

When lessons are done, they must skip, hop, and run,

Until they have made themselves warm, poor things.

 

In November 2013, the Editor arranged and led a field trip for members of the James Scholar Media Team (JSMT) to Japan House for a Saturday afternoon tea ceremony. You can learn more about Japan House and its excellent program offerings @ https://japanhouse.illinois.edu. (Photo Credit: Japan House Staff)