#WingedWordsWindsday: 2023/05/17 -- Venus: The Evenstar in Maytime

 

WINGED WORDS WINDSDAY

Compiled & Edited by Rob Chappell (@RHCLambengolmo)

Vol. 2, No. 29: May 17, 2023

 

 

Venus: The Evenstar in Maytime

 

Editor’s Note

                The planet Venus is the bright and beautiful Evenstar that now adorns the western sky after sundown. Here are some poems – from ancient and modern times – that celebrate our sister planet and the celestial intelligence (Venus or Aphrodite) that was believed to animate her silver orb. During Classical antiquity, Venus was regarded as the divine patron of love in all its manifold aspects throughout the ancient Near East and the Mediterranean countries.

 

“When the Shy Star Goes Forth in Heaven”

By James Joyce (1882-1941)

 

When the shy star goes forth in heaven

All maidenly, disconsolate,

Hear you amid the drowsy even

One who is singing by your gate.

His song is softer than the dew

And he is come to visit you.

 

O bend no more in revery

When he at eventide is calling,

Nor muse: Who may this singer be

Whose song about my heart is falling?

Know you by this, the lover’s chant,

‘Tis I that am your visitant.

 

“To a Star”

by Lucretia Maria Davidson (1808-1825)

 

Thou brightly-glittering Star of Even,

Thou gem upon the brow of Heaven

Oh! were this fluttering spirit free,

How quick 'twould spread its wings to thee.

 

How calmly, brightly dost thou shine,

Like the pure lamp in Virtue's shrine!

Sure the fair world which thou may'st boast

Was never ransomed, never lost.

 

There, beings pure as Heaven's own air,

Their hopes, their joys together share;

While hovering angels touch the string,

And seraphs spread the sheltering wing.

 

There cloudless days and brilliant nights,

Illumed by Heaven's refulgent lights;

There seasons, years, unnoticed roll,

And unregretted by the soul.

 

Thou little sparkling Star of Even,

Thou gem upon an azure Heaven,

How swiftly will I soar to thee,

When this imprisoned soul is free!

 

The planet Venus, as photographed by the Hubble Space Telescope in January 1995. (Photo Credit: NASA – Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons)

 

“To Aphrodite or Venus”

By Proclus Diadochus (412-485 CE)

Translated by Thomas Taylor (1758-1835)

 

A celebrated royal fount I sing,

From foam begotten, and of Loves the spring,

Those winged, deathless powers, whose general sway

In different modes all mortal tribes obey.

With mental darts some pierce the god-like soul,

And freedom rouse unconscious of control;

That anxious hence the center to explore

Which leads on high from matter's stormy shore,

The ardent soul may meditate her flight,

And view their mother's palaces of light,

But others, watchful of their father's will,

Attend his councils and his laws fulfil,

His bounteous providence o'er all extend,

And strengthen generation without end.

And others last, the most inferior kind,

Preside over marriage, and its contracts bind,

Intent a race immortal to supply

From man calamitous and doomed to die.

While all Cythera's high commands obey,

And bland attention to her labors pay,

O venerable goddess! hear my prayer,

For nought escapes thine universal ear:

Whether to embrace the mighty heaven is thine,

And send the world from thence a soul divine;

Or whether, seated in the aetherial plain

Above these seven-fold starry orbs you reign,

Imparting to our ties, with bounteous mind,

A power untamed, a vigor unconfined;—

Hear me, O goddess, and my life defend,

With labors sad, and anxious for their end;

Transfix my soul with darts of holy fire,

And avert the flames of base desire.

 

“Pervigilium Veneris” (“The Vigil of Venus”)

By Annius Tiberianus (4^th Century CE)

Translation Anonymous

(Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine, June 1843)

 

Refrain:

He that never loved before,

Let him love to-morrow!

He that hath loved o'er and o'er,

Let him love to-morrow!

 

Spring, young Spring, with song and mirth,

Spring is on the newborn earth.

Spring is here, the time of love—

The merry birds pair in the grove,

And the green trees hang their tresses,

Loosened by the rain's caresses.

To-morrow sees the dawn of May,

When Venus will her scepter sway,

Glorious, in her justice-hall:

There where woodland shadows fall,

On bowers of myrtle intertwined,

Many a band of love she'll bind.

 

(Refrain)

 

To-morrow is the day when first

From the foam-world of Ocean burst,

Like one of his own waves, the bright

Dione, queen of love and light,

Amid the sea-gods' azure train,

'Mid the strange horses of the main.

 

(Refrain)

 

She it is that lends the Hours

Their crimson glow, their jewel-flowers:

At her command, the buds are seen,

Where the west-wind's breath hath been,

To swell within their dwellings green.

She abroad those dewdrops flings,

Dew that night's cool softness brings;

How the bright tears hang declining,

And glisten with a tremulous shining,

Almost of weight to drop away,

And yet too light to leave the spray.

Hence the tender plants are bold

Their blushing petals to unfold:

'Tis that dew, which through the air

Falls from heaven when night is fair,

That unbinds the moist green vest

From the floweret's maiden breast.

'Tis Venus' will, when morning glows,

'Twill be the bridal of each rose.

Then the bride-flower shall reveal,

What her veil cloth now conceal,

The blush divinest, which of yore

She caught from Venus' trickling gore,

With Love's kisses mixed, I trow,

With blaze of fire, and rubies' glow,

And with many a crimson ray

Stolen from the birth of day.

 

(Refrain)

 

All the nymphs the Queen of Love

Summons to the myrtle-grove;

And see ye, how her wanton boy

Comes with them to share our joy?

Yet, if Love be armed, they say,

Love can scarce keep holiday:

Love without his bow is straying!

Come, ye nymphs, Love goes a Maying.

His torch, his shafts, are laid aside—

From them no harm shall you betide.

Yet, I rede ye, nymphs, beware,

For your foe is passing fair;

Love is mighty, ye'll confess,

Mighty e'en in nakedness;

And most panoplied for fight

When his charms are bared to sight.

 

(Refrain)

 

Dian, a petition we,

By Venus sent, prefer to thee:

Virgin envoys, it is meet,

Should the Virgin huntress greet:

Quit the grove, nor it profane

With the blood of quarry slain.

She would ask thee, might she dare

Hope a maiden's thought to share—

She would bid thee join us now,

Might cold maids our sport allow.

Now three nights thou may'st have seen,

Wandering through thine alleys green,

Troops of joyous friends, with flowers

Crowned, amidst their myrtle bowers.

Ceres and Bacchus us attend,

And great Apollo is our friend;

All night we must our Vigil keep—

Night by song redeemed from sleep.

Let Venus in the woods bear sway,

Dian, quit the grove, we pray.

 

(Refrain)

 

Of Hybla's flowers, so Venus willed,

Venus' judgment-seat we build.

She is judge supreme; the Graces,

As assessors, take their places.

Hybla, render all thy store

All the season sheds thee o'er,

Till a hill of bloom be found

Wide as Enna's flowery ground.

Attendant nymphs shall here be seen,

Those who delight in forest green,

Those who on mountain-top abide,

And those whom sparkling fountains hide.

All these the Queen of joy and sport

Summons to attend her court,

And bids them all of Love beware,

Although the guise of peace he wear.

 

(Refrain)

 

Fresh be your coronals of flowers,

And green your overarching bowers,

To-morrow brings us the return

Of Ether's primal marriage-morn.

In amorous showers of rain he came

T' embrace his bride's mysterious frame,

To generate the blooming year,

And all the produce Earth does bear.

Venus still through vein and soul

Bids the genial current roll;

Still she guides its secret course

With interpenetrating force,

And breathes through heaven, and earth, and sea,

A reproductive energy.

 

(Refrain)

 

She old Troy's extinguished glory

Revived in Latium's later story,

When, by her auspices, her son

Laurentia's royal damsel won.

She vestal Rhea's spotless charms

Surrendered to the War-god's arms;

She for Romulus that day

The Sabine daughters bore away;

Thence sprung the Rhamnes' lofty name,

Thence the old Quirites came;

And thence the stock of high renown,

The blood of Romulus, handed down

Through many an age of glory passed,

To blaze in Cæsar's at last.

 

(Refrain)

 

All rural nature feels the glow

Of quickening passion through it flow.

Love, in rural scenes of yore,

They say, his goddess-mother bore;

Received on Earth's sustaining breast,

Th' ambrosial infant sunk to rest;

And him the wild-flowers, o'er his head

Bending, with sweetest kisses fed.

 

(Refrain)

 

On yellow broom out yonder, see,

The mighty bulls lie peacefully.

Each animal of field or grove

Owns faithfully the bond of love.

The flocks of ewes, beneath the shade,

Around their gallant rams are laid;

And Venus bids the birds awake

To pour their song through plain and brake.

Hark! the noisy pools reply

To the swan's hoarse harmony;

And Philomel is vocal now,

Perched upon a poplar-bough.

Thou scarce would'st think that dying fall

Could ought but love's sweet griefs recall;

Thou scarce would'st gather from her song

The tale of brother's barbarous wrong.

She sings, but I must silent be:—

When will the spring-tide come for me?

When, like the swallow, spring's own bird,

Shall my faint twittering notes be heard?

Alas! the muse, while silent I

Remained, hath gone and passed me by,

Nor Phœbus listens to my cry.

And thus forgotten, I await,

By silence lost, Amyclæ's fate.

 

In this Illumination from the Epistle of Othea to Hector by Christine de Pizan (1364-1430), Venus is seated on a rainbow, while her devotees are offering their hearts to her. (Image Credit: Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons)