WINGED WORDS WINDSDAY
Compiled & Edited by Rob Chappell
(@RHCLambengolmo)
Vol. 2, No. 18: March 1, 2023
The Orphic Tradition: Springtime & Beyond
“Celebrating Springtime with Orphic Poetry”
By Rob Chappell, M.A.
Adapted & Condensed from Cursus Honorum VII: 8 (March 2007)
The
annual cycle of the seasons and its effects on our natural surroundings are
recurring themes throughout world literature. The Orphic poets – a guild of
ancient Greek philosopher-bards named after their legendary founder, Orpheus
(fl. 13th century BCE) – celebrated the changing of the seasons, the
wonders of the natural world, and their lofty ideals in poetic chants, several
dozen of which were preserved in written form after centuries of oral
transmission. In the poetic forms of their time and clime, the Orphic loremasters
chose to personify the forces of Nature, the celestial orbs, and abstract
ideals in order to explain how and why the natural world and the human social
order function in the ways that they do.
As
for Orpheus himself, according to our ancient sources, he was a Thracian bard
(from the country now known as Bulgaria) who studied in the mystery schools of
Egypt during his formative years, sailed with the Argonauts to recover the
Golden Fleece, and was able to charm all living things with his sacred music.
In later centuries, he was regarded as the hierophant who founded the Orphic
faith tradition, a henotheistic religion that influenced the Pythagorean,
Platonic, and Neoplatonic schools of thought – from Classical antiquity through
the Renaissance. The royal family of Macedon – to which Alexander the Great
belonged – were devotees of Orphism, as demonstrated by the artefacts found in
their royal tombs.
Here
are a few examples of Orphic poetry to celebrate the springtime – addressed to
the personified Seasons, to the Nymphs, and to Zephyrus (the West Wind).
Orphic Hymn #42: “To the Seasons”
Translated by Thomas Taylor (1758-1835)
Daughters
of Jove and Themis, Seasons bright,
Justice,
and blessed peace, and lawful right,
Vernal
and grassy, vivid, holy powers,
Whose
balmy breath exhales in lovely flowers;
All-colored
Seasons, rich increase your care,
Circling
forever, flourishing and fair:
Invested
with a veil of shining dew,
A
flowery veil delightful to the view:
Attending
Proserpine, when back from night,
The
Fates and Graces lead her up to light;
When in
a band harmonious they advance,
And
joyful round her form the solemn dance:
With
Ceres triumphing, and Jove divine,
Propitious
come, and on our incense shine;
Give
Earth a blameless store of fruits to bear,
And make
a novel mystic’s life your care.
Orphic Hymn #50: “To the Nymphs”
Translated by Thomas Taylor
Nymphs,
who from Ocean's stream derive your birth,
Who
dwell in liquid caverns of the Earth,
Nurses
of Bacchus’ secret-coursing power,
Who
fruits sustain, and nourish every flower:
Earthly,
rejoicing, who in meadows dwell,
And
caves and dens, whose depths extend to hell:
Holy,
oblique, who swiftly soar through air,
Fountains
and dews, and mazy streams your care:
Seen and
unseen, who joy with wanderings wide
And
gentle course, through flowery vales to glide;
With Pan
exulting on the mountains’ height,
Loud-sounding,
mad, whom rocks and woods delight:
Nymphs
oderous, robed in white, whose streams exhale
The
breeze refreshing, and the balmy gale;
With
goats and pastures pleased, and beasts of prey,
Nurses
of fruits, unconscious of decay:
In cold
rejoicing, and to cattle kind,
Sportive
through ocean wandering unconfined:
Nysian,
fanatic Nymphs, whom oaks delight,
Lovers
of Spring, Pæonian virgins bright.
With
Bacchus, and with Ceres, hear my prayer.
And to
mankind abundant favor bear;
Propitious
listen to your suppliants’ voice,
Come,
and benignant in these rites rejoice;
Give
plenteous Seasons, and sufficient wealth,
And pour,
in lasting streams, continued Health.
Orphic Hymn #80: “To the West
Wind”
Translated by Thomas Taylor
Sea-born,
aerial, blowing from the west,
Sweet
gales, who give to wearied labor rest:
Vernal
and grassy, and of gentle sound,
To ships
delightful, through the sea profound;
For
these, impelled by you with gentle force,
Pursue
with prosperous Fate their destined course.
With
blameless gales regard my suppliant prayer,
Zephyrs
unseen, light-winged, and formed from air.
“Orpheus”
By William Shakespeare (1564-1616)
Orpheus
with his lute made trees
And the
mountain tops that freeze
Bow
themselves when he did sing:
To his
music plants and flowers
Ever
sprung; as Sun and showers
There
had made a lasting spring.
Everything
that heard him play,
Even the
billows of the sea,
Hung
their heads and then lay by.
In sweet
music is such art,
Killing
care and grief of heart
Fall
asleep, or hearing, die.
The
constellation Lyra (above) represents Orpheus’ enchanged harp, which was placed
in the heavsns after his death. It can be viewed high overhead on summer
evenings in the American Midwest. (Image Credit: Urania’s Mirror by
Sidney Hall [1825] – Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons)
“To the Star Lyra”
By William Ross Wallace (1819-1891)
Harp of
Eternity! — thy strings
Ten
thousand thousand years have told,
Since
o'er thy frame the mystic wings
Of time
unwearied rolled;
And
still from that mysterious throne
Thy
song, magnificent and lone,
Peals
nightly as of old,
When
Chaldea's Shepherd bent his ear
To catch
the music of each sphere.
How
fondly gazed that old man round
The
dread magnificence above,
Wooed by
the anthem's mellow sound,
Breathing
of seraph love;
Whose
brooding wings shed deathless bliss
O'er
pensile orb and starred abyss,
Like
Heaven's own holy dove —
For he,
on those high rocks, had caught
Beams
from the Spirit-land of thought;
And
heard thy music, mighty Lyre,
Struck
by the giant hand of Time,
Rolling
amid yon worlds of fire,
Their
choral march sublime.
How leaped
his heart — how swelled his soul —
To hear
those awful numbers roll
In one
eternal chime;
And
dream that, freed from Earth's dark sod,
Already
he communed with God!
Bard of
the stars! Thou led'st the dance
Of
thrice ten thousand thousand spheres,
Wheeling
in their delirious trance
Through
the unnumbered years.
Unmoved
alike 'mid life or death —
The
storm's career — the tempest's breath,
Or folly
— crime and tears —
Still!
still behind those cloudy bars,
Glitters
the Poet of the Stars!
Thou art
alone! — At twilight dim,
And in
the Night's transparent noon,
Solemnly
weaving thy wild hymn,
And
solitary tune,
Like
some sad Hermit, — whose lone heart
Would
from all earthly splendors part,
Lured by
their glare too soon,
And 'mid
the Desert's silent gloom
Wait
uncomplainingly its doom.
Alone!
oh, sacred ONE , — dost thou
From
that star-cinctured hall, behold
Sorrows
which scathe the human brow,
And
griefs that burn untold,
Save to
the night-winds drooping by —
Like
mourners journeying from the sky —
Coldly
and dark unrolled?
Vainly
we ask, or low, or loud,
Bright
Minstrel of the star and cloud.
Sound
on, oh mighty Harp! Thy strain
Comes
floating sadly on the night —
For we
may ne'er behold again
Thy pure
and sacred light,
But in
the cold insensate tomb,
Rest all
unknowingly our doom;
While
thou, intensely bright,
Shalt
pour thy glorious music still,
Alike
unscathed by death or ill.
Sound
on! But those sweet harps of Earth,
Whose
strings lie shattered, cold and lone,
Shall
yet, restored by godlike worth,
Resume
their godlike tone;
While
thou must be, oh! ancient lyre,
Destroyed
in Nature's funeral pyre,
And
broken on thy throne —
Where
they — undimmed by Earth-born jars —
May
lead, like thee, the dance of stars!
Oh,
glorious hope! Oh, thought divine!
Soul!
fired by the high-promised bliss,
Kneel at
thy God's eternal shrine,
And
breathe thy thanks for this!
Harp!
lift once more thy joyous song —
Bear its
— oh, bear its notes along,
O'er Earth
and far abyss!
Hail
with a smile Death's gloomy frown, —
Spirit!
he brings thy brightest crown!
“Orpheus and Eurydice”
Chapter 24, Section A from The Age of Fable by Thomas Bulfinch (1796-1867)
Orpheus
was the son of Apollo and the Muse Calliope. He was presented by his father
with a lyre and taught to play upon it, which he did to such perfection that
nothing could withstand the charm of his music. Not only his fellow-mortals but
wild beasts were softened by his strains, and gathering round him laid by their
fierceness, and stood entranced with his lay. Nay, the very trees and rocks
were sensible to the charm. The former crowded round him and the latter relaxed
somewhat of their hardness, softened by his notes.
Orpheus and the Beasts by
Sebastiaen Vrancx (1573-1647) shows the legendary Greek bard enchanting the
woodland creatures (including a unicorn!) with his mystical melodies. (Image
Credit: Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons)
As
he sang these tender strains, the very ghosts shed tears. Tantalus, in spite of
his thirst, stopped for a moment his efforts for water, Ixion’s wheel stood
still, the vulture ceased to tear the giant’s liver, the daughters of Danaüs
rested from their task of drawing water in a sieve, and Sisyphus sat on his
rock to listen. Then for the first time, it is said, the cheeks of the Furies
were wet with tears. Proserpine could not resist, and Pluto himself gave way.
Eurydice was called. She came from among the new-arrived ghosts, limping with
her wounded foot. Orpheus was permitted to take her away with him on one
condition, that he should not turn around to look at her till they should have
reached the upper air. Under this condition they proceeded on their way, he
leading, she following, through passages dark and steep, in total silence, till
they had nearly reached the outlet into the cheerful upper world, when Orpheus,
in a moment of forgetfulness, to assure himself that she was still following,
cast a glance behind him, when instantly she was borne away. Stretching out
their arms to embrace each other, they grasped only the air! Dying now a second
time, she yet cannot reproach her husband, for how can she blame his impatience
to behold her? “Farewell,” she said, “a last farewell,” —and was hurried away,
so fast that the sound hardly reached his ears.
Orpheus
endeavored to follow her, and besought permission to return and try once more
for her release; but the stern ferryman repulsed him and refused passage. Seven
days he lingered about the brink, without food or sleep; then bitterly accusing
of cruelty the powers of Erebus, he sang his complaints to the rocks and
mountains, melting the hearts of tigers and moving the oaks from their
stations. He held himself aloof from womankind, dwelling constantly on the
recollection of his sad mischance. The Thracian maidens tried their best to
captivate him, but he repulsed their advances. They bore with him as long as
they could; but finding him insensible one day, excited by the rites of
Bacchus, one of them exclaimed, “See yonder our despiser!” and threw at him her
javelin. The weapon, as soon as it came within the sound of his lyre, fell
harmless at his feet. So did also the stones that they threw at him. But the
women raised a scream and drowned the voice of the music, and then the missiles
reached him and soon were stained with his blood. The maniacs tore him limb
from limb, and threw his head and his lyre into the river Hebrus, down which they
floated, murmuring sad music, to which the shores responded a plaintive
symphony. The Muses gathered up the fragments of his body and buried them at
Libethra, where the nightingale is said to sing over his grave more sweetly
than in any other part of Greece. His lyre was placed by Jupiter among the
stars. His shade passed a second time to Tartarus, where he sought out his
Eurydice and embraced her with eager arms. They roam the happy fields together
now, sometimes he leading, sometimes she; and Orpheus gazes as much as he will
upon her, no longer incurring a penalty for a thoughtless glance.
Further Reading
•
The
Orphic Hymns @ https://www.sacred-texts.com/cla/hoo/index.htm à A collection of eighty hymns from ancient Greece,
attributed to Orpheus but probably composed by his descendants and disciples over
several centuries.
•
Orphism
(Religion) @ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orphism_(religion) à Summary review of the Orphic faith tradition, which
greatly influenced ancient Greek philosophy and spirituality.
•
Sir Orfeo (Adapted
from the Middle English) @ https://archive.org/details/sirorfeoadaptedf00hunt à A modern poetic retelling of the
Middle English lay of Sir Orfeo, which was a medieval version of the
myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, retold with elements of Keltik faery lore.
