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haggishlyhagging · 1 year ago

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The rape of the Goddess in all of her aspects is an almost universal theme in patriarchal myth. Zeus, for example, was a habitual rapist. Graves points out that Zeus's rapes apparently refer to Hellenic conquests of the Goddess's ancient shrines. The early patriarchal rapes of the Goddess, in her various manifestations, symbolized the vanquishing of woman-identified society. In the early mythic rapes, the god often assumed a variety of animal forms; the sense of violence/ violation is almost tangible. In christianity, this theme is refined—disguised almost beyond recognition.

The rape of the rarefied remains of the Goddess in the christian myth is mind/spirit rape. In the charming story of "the Annunciation" the angel Gabriel appears to the terrified young girl, announcing that she has been chosen to become the mother of god. Her response to this sudden proposal from the godfather is totaled nonresistance: "Let it be done unto me according to thy word." Physical rape is not necessary when the mind/will/spirit has already been invaded. In refined religious rapism, the victim is impregnated with the Supreme Seminal Idea, who becomes "the Word made flesh."

Within the rapist christian myth of the Virgin Birth the role of Mary is utterly minimal; yet she is "there." She gives her unqualified "consent." She bears the Son who pre-existed her and then she adores him. According to catholic theology, she was even "saved" by him in advance of her own birth. This is the meaning of the "Immaculate Conception" of Mary— the dogma that Mary was herself conceived free of "original sin" through the grace of the "savior" who would be born of her. This grace received in advance, described by theologians as "grace of prevention or preservation," is something like a supernatural credit card issued to a very special patron (matron). Mary's credit line was crossed before she was even conceived. Double crossed by the divine Master Charge system, she was in a state of perpetual indebtedness. Still, as I have explained elsewhere, despite all the theological minimizing of Mary's "role," the mythic presence of the Goddess was perceivable in this faded and reversed mirror image.*

* In order to understand the Background of Mary, Hags should recall that she was known as "the new Eve." This leads us to look into the Background of Eve who, in hebrew myth, was a dulled-out replacement for Lilith, Adam's first wife. Patai writes of Lilith as portrayed in the Talmudic period: "When Adam wished to lie with her, Lilith demurred: 'Why should I lie beneath you,' she asked, 'when I am your equal since both of us were created from dust?'" (See Raphael Patai, The Hebrew Goddess, p. 210.) Any Crone-ographer, of course, can recognize this as a watered-down version of what Lilith really might have said, which would hardly have been an argument for mere "equal rights." As for Eve, constructed from Adam's rib—Peggy Holland has pointed out that this is an interesting mythic model: the first male-to-constructed-female transsexual. Patai affirms that it was Lilith who persuaded Eve to eat of the Tree of Knowledge and he acknowledges that Lilith was a Hag (pp. 210-13). According to Cirlot, Lilith, in the Israelite tradition, corresponds to the Greek and Roman Lamia. (See J. E. Cirlot, A Dictionary of Symbols, trans. by Jack Sage [New York: Philosophical Library, 1962], p. 180.) Graves puts more of the pieces together, indicating that Lamia was the Libyan Neith, also named Anatha and Athene. (See Robert Graves, The Greek Myths, I, 61, 1. Graves adds that "she ended as a nursery bogey" (which is, of course, the fate of all Hags/ Crones/ Witches in patriarchal myth). Lilith is also identified with Hecate, the lunar goddess and "accursed huntress." After pointing this out, Cirlot remarks: "The overcoming of the threat which Lilith constitutes finds its symbolic expression in the trial of Hercules in which he triumphs over the Amazons" (Ibid., p. 180). Since Hecate was associated with hares, this suggests that rabbits are in the Virgin Mary's Background. Given the parthenogenetic propensities of rabbits and given the reversal mechanisms of patriarchal myth, this association makes sense. We are also led to think about the identity of the familiar "Easter Bunny" (and about the reversal involved in the image of "Playboy Bunnies"). Finally, when considering Lilith, Hags should note that this name is said to be derived from the Babylonian-Assyrian word lilitu, meaning a "female demon, or wind-spirit." (See Robert Graves and Raphael Patai, Hebrew Myths: The Book of Genesis [Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1964], p. 68.) This is interesting in view of the fact that the name of the "Holy Spirit," who is believed to have impregnated the Virgin Mary, is derived from the Latin spiritus. Is the holy spirit trying to copy Lilith? Also fascinating is the thought that since, as we have seen, Yahweh is a derivative and reversal of the Goddess, one of whose primary names is Lilith, he is exposed as an imposter, a female impersonator, and a transsexed caricature of that Great Hag herself.

-Mary Daly, Gyn/Ecology

#mary daly #patriarchal mythology #christian mythology #great goddess #lilith #Eve #virgin mary

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alternishicons · 3 months ago

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percy jackson headcanons + picrews (long post, hcs under the cut. only grover, annabeth, and percy. i use the homestuck troll quadrants to describe their relationships)

in order: annabeth, percy, grover

some notes on their designs: they all have a lot more scars, grover’s mainly being on his legs from running through forests, annabeth’s mainly being on her sides (as she gets too cocky during fights and leaves them open on accident), and percy’s mainly being on her chest. annabeth and percy look really similar, but they’re not intended to be, just how picrew works ykyk. grover wears sunglasses and really baggy clothes to hide his goat features. percy is fem as hell and would prob love skirts, but i didnt really like any of them in the picrew.

percy

🐟 if you think hes cis, straight, or white ur crazy

🐟 on that note. Trans girl who uses she/he/bite, biromantic asexual but romance repulsed attraction to men due to trauma, and she’s latino, black, and libyan

🐟 i see people headcanon her name as persephone a lot and while i do love that to me shes parand and still goes by percy!

🐟 middle kid regressor, prob 7-13. i dont think bite would change much in terms of personality, besides maybe being louder due to lack of volume control

🐟 solarpunk, afropunk, hopepunk, and underseapunk for sure. she is an ACTIVIST!!! he, his siblings, his mom, and grover go to protests together im correct

🐟 fav bands: my chemical romance, pleasure venom, fea, meet me @ the altar, the tuts, and la armada. i dont listen to pierce the veil but maybe them too?

🐟 sharkhearted, aquatickin, and oceankin!

🐟 radicalized the rest of the 7, and while bite grew up with punk beliefs (ty sally), i think thalia was the one who gave her the final push ykyk?

🐟 he is NOT skinny and he does NOT have a 6 pack!! listen. most of bites exercise comes from combat and strength training. and typically, strength training (ESPECIALLY combat) doesnt focus heavily on bodybuilding. My girl is big and has muscles and is proud

🐟 collects comic books, legos, and video games! favorite comic run is napalm lullaby, doesnt have a favorite lego set but has a small ocean animals one she bought second hand that she pulls apart and puts together again for comfort, and she doesnt have a favorite video game but the one she replays the most is is sonic adventures 2! video games are his special interest (did i mention i hc him as autistic. Well that too. bite’s audhd dyslexic)

🐟 isnt dating annabeth anymore (in my perfect world). the two broke up and both are way happier and healthier as adults. i think that annabeth needed to be away from percy to get better, and percy COULDNT be better with annabeth.

🐟 (i do think theyd have the best femme&butch solidarity as friends once they are both ready to do so! just need time for healing and all, ykyk?)

🐟 jason is her ex-moirail and her auspitice for her and annabeth! jason stops them from entering an abusive pitch relationship. used to be clarrise’s kismesis, but broke it off to take a break from relationships (reason he broke off from being jason’s moirail)

annabeth

📘 i dont have many hcs for her because to me, shes a better character concept then character

📘 my girl is butch trust meeee. “oh shes so fem and percys strong fem gf” HER? HERR?? THAT ANNABETH? OUR ANNABETH?

📘 she/they demi-caedromantic butch lesbian demigirl. i think a lot of pjo characters like multiple genders in theory, but due to trauma, have lost most (or all) attraction to them. to me, she used to be interested in romance, but fell off from that after everything happened

📘 does NOT get good grades. I love her and i think shes actually smart because she likes to study, but like… my girl has dyslexia and adhd. and their mom is the goddess of WISDOM, not INTELLIGENCE. theres no way theyre getting all As and Bs

📘 afropunk and anarchopunk. shes not as active in local scenes due to them bouncing around (though their heart will always be in the punk scene in LA), but if theres a protest in her general area THEYRE GOING. i also think theyre riot grrrl but only after ending her relationship with percy and getting better as a person

📘 fav bands (during relationship, im not sure what she’d listen to post-percabeth): mel bryant & the mercy makers, the muslims, pat the bunny, mischief brew, big joanie, violent femmes, boygenius. i think she was largely influenced by grover and thalia, but starts really developing her own music taste when they settle down in their own life

📘 her hair is FUCKED UP. she tries to take good care of it!! they really do!! but after years of living in a camp with not a whole lot of access to supplies for their hair type, and then living on a BOAT with even LESS access, their hair is really damaged. all the seven have fucked up hair, but theirs especially, since they were under so much stress that she didn’t care much for upkeep.

📘 was radicalized to be anarchopunk and afropunk by thalia, but became riot grrrl thanks to piper’s influence

📘 not autistic (in the books, maybe the show). i personally dont see her as having many autistic traits (though they DEF have adhd traits and its insane people dont acknowledge that a lot). but yeah i just? cant see it? idk

📘 when they were dating percy they didnt realize they didnt actually have feelings and was just comphet. this led to a really unhealthy relationship. then by the time she realized the feelings had developed to just hate and they felt bad leaving. they eventually separated and she got a lot better

📘 away from dating for a while, but has a small, unrequited pale crush on piper

grover

🫐 GROVERRRRR guys hes one of my favs unironically

🫐 mixed african american-indian guy whos a t4t bisexual trans guy and uses he/him. “oh but all satyrs are male” yeah but also this is a book series that has been inaccurate about greek mythology since the beginning so shh

🫐 carries iron supplements with him because while he’s used to relying on hay and feed for iron, he can’t exactly do that disguised as a human

🫐 his handwriting is SHIT. i think most of his handwriting comes from signing himself up for things so that means he constantly looks like he’s signing his signature. only juniper can somewhat make it out and thats because hers is just as bad

🫐 solarpunk, afropunk, and hopepunk!!!! he is literally the og solarpunk trust me.

🫐 fav bands: punk on toast, earth 2 tiffany, tell everyone we’re dead, the tuts, be steadwell, zaphyria

🫐 age regresses to rlly young with no cg! he doesnt particularly want one either? hes just doing his own thing. percy is his playmate :)

🫐 not my headcanon but my friend says hed be really tenderheaded, like as in “can barely do his own hair without it hurting”. idk how accurate this is but i agree because my friend says so

🫐 used to get roped into the stoll’s pranks. he’d help them sneak onto the strawberry trucks, steal things, etc. eventually stopped as he got more anxious, but he and the stolls are still fairly close and he’ll still help them play pranks on occasion

🫐 fruits are his ultimate safe foods! strawberries, apples, whatever! he keeps a packet of fruit on him everywhere he goes for snacks

🫐 sees thalia, annabeth, and percy as his younger siblings. i think he deserves to be their proud older brother, as a treat <3. used to see luke as the same way, but not anymore for obvious reasons

🫐 juniper is her one and only matesprit!

#not icons #headcanons #percy jackson headcanons #annabeth chase headcanons #grover underwood headcanons #percy jackson #annabeth chase #grover underwood #my headcanons #pjo headcanon #made for self indulgence

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aliciavance4228 · 2 months ago

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Ovid, Art of Love: "...wear out some long road to discover them. Perseus brought Andromeda from darkest India, and Trojan Paris snatched his girl from..."

Ovid, Metamorphoses: "You [Dionysos] hold in thrall the Orient, even those remotest lands where Ganges waters dusky India." Ovid, Metamorphoses: "[Dionysos] conqueror of India."

If you go by Ovid's version where Dionysus is acknowledged as the conqueror of India and Andromeda is indian then there's a chance thay both Perseus and Andromeda have more reasons to despise him other than the Argos incident.

There's also this passage from Ovid's Metamorphoses:

The fortune of their grandson, Bacchus, gave great comfort to them—as a god adored in conquered India; by Achaia praised in stately temples. — But Acrisius the son of Abas, of the Cadmean race, remained to banish Bacchus from the walls of Argos, and to lift up hostile arms against that deity, who he denied was born to Jove. He would not even grant that Perseus from the loins of Jupiter was got of Danae in the showering gold. So mighty is the hidden power of truth, Acrisius soon lamented that affront to Bacchus, and that ever he refused to own his grandson; for the one achieved high heaven, and the other, (as he bore the viperous monster-head) on sounding wings hovered a conqueror in the fluent air, over sands, Libyan, where the Gorgon-head dropped clots of gore, that, quickening on the ground, became unnumbered serpents; fitting cause to curse with vipers that infested land.

Here it's emphasized the fact that he conquered India before Perseus (and by extension Andromeda) were even born, but what is interesting in this fragment is the implication that Danaë being impregnated by Zeus was Dionysus' punishment towards Acrisius all this time, because he refused to worship him.

On top of that, pretty much any sources which mention Dionysus wanting to spread his cult in Argos usually have Perseus opposing him, except this one. So my personal interpretation/take is that Dionysus punished Acrisius after his affront not by brutally murdering him (*ahem* Pentheus *ahem*), but by asking Zeus to get his daughter pregnant, thus participating into fulfilling that prophecy. He then continued to spread his cult in other places until he found out that Acrisius died and Perseus became king. So he turned back to Argos, being convinced that this time he would easily win against this new ruler.

#greek mythology #dionysus #perseus #acrisius #princess andromeda #ramblings

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alexandreaiteiaabronia · 4 months ago

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The Lotos-Garland of Antinous

by John Addington Symonds

Behold a vision of the world-old Nile—

Of porch and palace-tower and peristyle

Glassed in the oily current smooth and calm,

With many a fringéd mile of sultry palm

Shimmering in noonday sunlight! O the roar

Of the full-voiced swart-visaged swarming shore,

As the gilt barge, with flash of oars, and cry

Cast on the waters of shrill minstrelsy,

Down the broad tide bears Adrian the king,

Lapped in luxurious ease and winnowing

All husk of hard thought from his heart this day—

So men surmise—to laughter given and play!

Lo the full sails of Tyrian silk out-spread

Like wings of wildest plumage overhead;

The cedar masts with crusted pearl and scale

Of Indian beetle rough; the bellying veil,

Star-sprent, gold-dusted, hyaline in hue,

That tempers like a mist the burning blue

Ofthose bronzed heavens; the heavy-scented flowers,

Plucked from what dim mysterious temple bowers

Deep in the dewy twilight—tuberoses,

Starred jasmines, lotos, crimson chalices

With myrtles woven! Mid that bloomy sea

Are girls, half-seen, reclining dreamily;

Some white as swans unruffled, pure and cold;

Some glowing with the delicate dim gold

Of amber, warm on throat and neck beneath

Black heavy coils of lustrous curls that wreathe,

Snake-like, smooth temples. O the subtle stir

Of laughter and of little feet, the whir

Of fans like night-moths fluttering, mid the wild

Voices of choiring boys, that naked piled

On Persian broidery, to the sound of flute,

Viol and fife and soul-subduing lute,

Make music, piercing shrill and sad and clear

With yearning memories the drowsy ear!

On glides the flashing galley. But the king,

In Roman strength austere, each goodly thing

Serenely reckons. He hath felt the glare

Of shadeless deserts; by the Libyan lair

Of lions hath out-watched the fiery day,

Patiently waiting for his royal prey:

The clash of arms he knows, the thirsty march

O’er sands with wormwood set, where fevers parch

Black lips and tongue, and hollow eyes grow dim:

No Syrian wreath or crown of rose for him

The circlet of the Empire! And behold,

This morn in Theban temples dusk with gold,

While spiry flames from smoking altars flew,

And incense clouds voluminously blue

Sun-proof involved those columned aisles, the seer

Foaming with eyes fixed on the unseen Fear,

A rede of death enwrapped in riddling gloom

Had uttered:—yea, that even for him the doom

Of icy death, unless some spirit free

Of man or boy, unbought, might willingly

Yield life for life, amid the dance and feast,

When hollow-eyed grim Death seems last and least,

Lurked shadow-like. So spake the shuddering priest.

And Adrian heard; yet trembled not, but read

As in a book the doom of Rome dismemberèd:

For on his life alone the Empire hung;

And to his single strength the nations clung,

As clings a vine with leaves and weighty fruit

To some strong pine’s stone-circling massy root.

And none but Adrian heard—save one who stayed

Beside him; one in whose quick pulses played

Fire of free life imperious; a boy

Of nineteen summers, framed for power and joy.

Crisp on his temples curled the coal-black hair;

White myrtle flowers and leaves were woven there:

His eyes had solemn light in them, and shone

Flame-like ‘neath cloudy brows: his cheeks were wan

With passion; and the soul upon his lips,

Smouldering like some fierce planet in eclipse,

Breathed fascination terrible and strong,

As though quick pride strove with remembered wrong.

But oh! what tongue shall tell the orient glow

Of those orbed breasts, smooth as dawn-smitten snow;

The regal gait, processional and grand,

As of a god; the sunny-marble hand,

Grasping a silk-enwoven cedar-wand?

He heard, Antinous! and in his breast

His heart leaped, and his flaming eyes confessed

The fervour of his spirit; still and calm

Standing the while, like some full-fruited palm

Tall by a river-bank. Then forth they went,

The youth divine and royal victim, blent

In silent awe and blind bewilderment.

Down to the Nile they came, and eager men

Pressed round them myriad-voiced with wonder: then

Taking their barge, upon the stream sailed forth,

Downwards all day steering by West and North.

All day the lazy ripple to the prow

Whispered; and all day long by palms arow,

By cities populous with blazing quays,

By tracts of flowering bean and verdant maize,

They glided. Towers and temples sunny bright,

Like mirage in the desert, swam from sight

Behind them; and the wild tumultuous noise

Of nations shouting with a single voice

Grew fainter on the current. All day long,

Lulled to a slumberous symphony of song,

Sails flapped, oars flashed, and boys and maidens made

Cool music in the silken scented shade.

But Adrian dreaming lay, and at his side

Antinous with large eyes blank and wide

Lay dreaming. Thus adown the sleepy tide,

As in a trance toward Lethe through still air,

Lost to the joy of living did they fare.

But now the sun who all day long had driven

His glittering chariot o’er the enamelled heaven,

Began to wester. Level smote his rays,

A furnace-fire of splendour; and the blaze

Burned upon stream and city: in its fire

The pillared shrine and solitary spire,

Tall cypress or thick tamarisk-tangle, swam

Like clouds you scarce can see amid the flame

Of sunset; and the whole vast concave through,

Across the light-irradiate airy blue,

Ran conflagration. Then, ere day was dead,

The slaves who had that service came and spread

The Emperor’s table; and Antinous rose,

For his it was before the banquet’s close

To bear the wine-cup, at his master’s knee

Like Ganymede serving imperially.

He rose, and from his shoulder’s ivory

The veil fell fluttering to his rounded thigh:

Naked he stood; then on his forehead set

A crimson wreath of lotos, cool and wet,

Fresh from the tank, with ivy mixed; and bound

Roses about his breast; and from the ground

A tendril-tangled thyrsus raised, and flung

The quivering leaves aloft that clasped and clung.

Next half the lustre of his limbs he hid,

Like some night-reveller or Bassarid

Fresh-flown from Indian thickets, with the fur

Of panthers streaked and spotted, sleek with myrrh

And musky-fragrant. In his hand a bowl,

Carved of one beryl, soft as if a soul

Throbbed in its flush, he took, and called his crew.

They to their Bacchus with loud laughter flew,

Tossing flame faces, twinkling tiny feet

In measured madness to the timbrel’s beat—

Wild hair behind them flying, loosened zone,

And flowers about their flanks for girdles strewn.

Girls were they, girls with vine-leaves garlanded,

Or jasmines white as their own maidenhead!

Boys too; ye gods, the beauty of those boys,

Lithe as young leopards! the soul-thrilling noise

Of their shrill voices!—Bells are at their feet,

And silver armlets, tinkling as they meet,

Make the air mad.

Behold, in such wild glee,

With dance and music and with witchery,

Paced forth the youth, for whom it seemed that all

His life to come might be one festival.

Yet in his soul was sadness. Well he knew

That ere those lotos-flowers had lost their dew,

He forth would fare upon the dismal way

Of dying.—Thus of many thoughts that day

This one had triumphed: he would die to shield

Adrian from death, if so the doom revealed

By god-sent oracles might be withdrawn

From that great head.—Like Phosphor in the dawn,

Solemn he was and tender; larger eyed,

Of more majestic stature; and his wide

Bare bosom swelled with nobler weight of thought

Than e’er within his heart had yet been wrought,

Since from his fields Bithynian and the play

Of childhood, on a lustrous night of May,

He had been borne by pirate hands, and woke

To weep his mother.

Through the awning broke

The clear-voiced choir; but Adrian in good sooth

Rose from his pillowed couch to greet the youth,

So proudly paced he: and the dying sun,

Shooting that moment from low vapours dun,

Transfigured all his face; and in the glow

The ruddy lotos-flowers upon his brow

Blazed ruby-like, and all his form divine

Blushed into crimson, and the crystalline

Bowl of the gleaming beryl flashed, and dim

With dusky gold the fur that mantled him,

Spread tawny splendour. So he stood and smiled,

Bending his crowned head, like a god who, mild

To mortals, will be worshipped. Such a sight,

So framed, so sphered in music and sunlight,

Had ne’er in court or theatre or grove

Fashioned by Nero for his insolent love,—

Nay ne’er in Syrian valleys where the Queen

Mourns for her lost Adonis, on the green

Of Daphne or of sea-girt Tyre been seen.

He spake: ‘To thee, in semblance of a god,

To thee supreme, who Jove-like with thy nod

Scatterest states and kingdoms, lo! I come

Bearing strong juice of Bacchus. See the foam

Leaps in the crystal for thy lips, and red

As rose or maiden in her bridal bed,

Glows for thy kisses! Health for thee, my king,

Health and long life within the cup I bring.

Yea, were it mine, this youth thou thinkest fair,

(Fair in thy thought, for verily whate’er

Thine eyes have praised, is fairest,) were it mine,

Brief as it is, scarce worth one thought of thine,

(For lo, it blooms to-day, to-morrow dies,

Nay even now is fading, as the skies

Fade after sunset)—were it mine to give,

Thinkest thou, king and master, I would live?

Were it not well to die for thee, and know

There in the scentless myrtle bowers below,

That thou wert living this new life? What breath,

How sweet soe’er, were sweeter than such death?

Nay, Lord, I flatter not. This is no smile

Of hollow semblance on false lips to wile

Kind speech from thee, much prized by us who serve

For could I, from this will I would not swerve!’

Thus spake Antinous, and the table round

Murmured approval; for the honeyed sound

From those calm lips on idle ears like dew

Fell with fresh fragrance and a pleasure new.

Sophists were there, whom Adrian fed, and they

Clapped loud applause, averring the long day

Had kept till eve her flower of perfect speech:

For such fine flattery, like the perfumed peach

Most subtly flavoured, could no palate cloy.

Thus clamoured they, wine-wanton; but the boy,

Bending his lilied brow beneath the wand,

And kneeling to his master, with one hand

Lifted the cup:—a lotos falling stirred

The wine refulgent; then, without a word

Or smile, he raised the sunlight of his face.

But Adrian drank, keeping the flower to grace

His wreath; and bade Antinous take the bowl

Of beryl. Then he turned with graver soul

To some grey counsellor beside him placed;

And the cup-bearer with his revel passed

Forth from the tent imperial.

Lo, the West

Bathing with liquid lustre brow and breast—

Lustre of orange, amber, green and blue,

Glassed on the waves, and gemlike in the dew

Of heaven translucent; the cool breeze that flew

Past silken sail and tent-roof; the black bars

Of palm-groves and of porches; shimmering stars,

And the low moon to eastward, pearly pale

Mid roseate refluence! In one woven veil

Of varied hues the universal world

Seemed by some hand omnipotent enfurled,

Where in the midst the barge, a moving spark

Herself of light, yet mid such splendour dark,

Slept on her shadow. And was this the night,

Centre of all things fair, for thee to blight

Thy blossom with cold frost of death—to die,

Sweetest of all sweet things beneath the sky?

The decks were vacant, as at even-tide

Of chills and sudden dew-fall. Free and wide

The sandal planks thick-matted with bright wool

And furs and flowered embroideries beautiful,

Spread for his pacing; and the lazy plash

Of rippling waves that round the galley wash,

Cooled the clear air. He went as in a dream

Forth to the prow, land o’er the luminous stream

Leaned; and behold, a golden lamp up-borne

By Isis (on her brow the sacred horn,

And at her waist the lotos, leaf by leaf,

And flower by flower, twined in a jewelled sheaf

Of lilies) cast a glimmer pure as pearl

On the veined marble of the watery swirl.

Here stayed Antinous, while the darkening west

Deepened from crimson into amethyst,

From fire to blood-red orange thin and still,

Under faint streaks of tenderest daffodil

Which faded. Soon, as drops of fiery dew

Gleam on a withered primrose, so there grew

Forth from this pallor the intensest glow

Of Hesper’s love-star: tremulous and low,

Poised o’er the palms, he panted; and his beam

Danced like a living lamp upon the stream.

Then spake Antinous: ‘My hour is nigh!

Night cometh, and the guardians of the sky

Illume their cressets!’ So he rose and spread

The panther skin and thyrsus, and the red

Wreath of dead lotos laid upon the ground:

Next in his hand the bowl of beryl, crowned

With roses, from a gleaming golden jar

He rilled; and gazing at the level star,

Thrice made libation, crying: ‘Father Nile,

And Isis and Osiris! ye who smile

On mortal births and burials! lo, I give

My life for Adrian’s! Wherefore should I live?

Have I not learned to trail my manhood’s pride

In the world’s golden gutters?—Like a bride,

Sumptuous with sacrifice and pomp and choir,

Forth from the doors I issued; and the fire

Of Flamens shone to light me: now, alone,

With saffron veil unbound and broken zone,

My blossom withered, lo, a wanton’s doom

Awaits me, or the purifying tomb!—

Nay, even now I weary. Day by day

It irks me to consume the hours with play;

Hearing soft speeches, propped on pillowed down,

To gather smiles; or, when I choose to frown,

Drink womanish tears. Better I ween were strife

With lions than this fulsome flower of life!

And when the flower is faded, what remains?

Yea, heaven, I thank thee: lo, the little pains

Of dying bring me guerdon of great gains!

For in my bloom I perish, having bought

Unending honour. What I give, is nought

But a mere piece of boyhood thrown away:

While he, the Emperor, lives. Even so. This day

Dates a new aeon in the age of Rome;

Wherethrough, a name for ever, in the dome

Of people’s praises, I shall pace, and be

Equalled with heroes in mine infamy!

Nay, what on earth more godlike? I have heard

Of soldiers dying at a general’s word;

Of patriots who drained their hearts to save

A nation: they beside their fathers’ grave,

Before their city walls and smoking shrines,

Fell on the long resounding foeman’s lines

And perished: this was easy; yet they bore

Victorious crowns and hymns for evermore.

But I, what city or what home have I?

What duty, dear or sacred, bids me die?

A slave—the toy and bauble of a king,

Picked from the dust to play with—a cheap thing,

Irksome as soon as used—a cup to sip,

Then fling with loathing from the sated lip!—

Therefore I die more nobly. Where are ye,

My father and my mother, and the glee

Of brothers and of sisters, who were dear

Far off in years forgotten? Not one tear

Shall your calm unfamiliar eyes let fall

For me.—How like a gilded dream is all

The life that I have lived in glorious Rome!

How like a dream it leaves me!—Lo, I come,

Ye awful, soul-exacting, pitiless Powers!

Prepare your laurels and the moony bowers

Of myrtles! Not ignoble, not a slave,

I perish, but of mine own will, to save

The Father of the Empire.—I have seen

In Roman theatres the dying queen

Of weak Admetus, pale Polyxena,

Cheiron, Menoikeus; and the people, ah!

The people how they shouted! Tears and cries

Greet even an actor when he nobly dies:—

Will not the people of the unnumbered dead,

Showering their pallid crowns upon my head,

Nobly receive me noble, dying thus,

Calm in my strength, young, proud, luxurious,

Not torn by pangs, not wasted, not outworn,

But in my splendour?’

As he spake, a horn

Shrilled through the twilight; and he saw the tower

Of Besa, where that night they tarried, lower

Dusk o’er the champaign. Speechless from the bark

He dropped: she onward glided o’er the dark

Breast of the glimmering Nile with lamp and light:

He through the mirrors of the cool black night

Unruffled, dying drifted; and his death

Was seen by no man. Nay, there lingereth

Old legend in the town Antinoë,

Called by his name, a fair town and a free,

How that a flight of eagles from the sky

Down swooping, bore him, rosy breast and thigh

Lustrous like lightning on their sable plumes,

Up to the zenith, where, a star, he blooms

In that bright garden of the grace of Jove,

The martyr and the miracle of love.—

Of this the truth we know not; but we know

That in the town of Besa, where the flow

Of Nile is stayed upon the eastern bank

With wattles and with osiers, for a tank

That draws therefrom through sluices deep and wide

The living waters of the sacred tide,

There in the morn was found as though asleep,

The perfect body of the boy; and deep

Around him, known not till that day, there grew

Great store of lotos flowers, red, white, and blue,

But mostly rose-red, flaming in his hair,

And o’er his breast and shoulders floating fair,

And with his arms enwoven, pure and cool,

Screening his flesh from sunrise. Thus the pool

Burned with a miracle of flowers; but he,

Raised on their petals, pillowed tenderly,

And curtained with fresh leaves innumerous,

Smiled like a god, whom errands amorous

Lure from Olympus, and coy Naiads find

Sleeping, and in their rosy love-wreaths bind.

https://paganreveries.wordpress.com/2012/09/06/the-lotos-garland-of-antinous-by-john-addington-symonds/

Picture: My Antinous

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cute-grave-robber · 2 months ago

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Back in Glasgow there are 2 new people who are on the masters program and are hanging out with my group. And I was told last night that these 2 new people “don’t really like” one of my close friends and that one of the og people isn’t happy that he hasn’t “made a good impression on the new people”. And the reasons they don’t like him is because one of them thought my friend was flirting with her (he wasn’t he’s just really friendly lol) and the other one thinks that my friend is immature and “tells stories a 16yo would tell”. The first one, the girl, I get it I mean she doesn’t know him that well so was just a misunderstanding. The second guy however that’s fucking rich coming from him & I already don’t like him lmao. Got told this absolute belter of a story that a couple of weeks ago this new guy asked my friend where he was from (my friend is Libyan. He is a black man.) and when my friend told him he is Libyan the new guy was like “oh right okay.. I was just checking you are allowed to use the n word” BECAUSE MY FRIEND USED A SONG WITH THE N WORD IN IT IN A STORY💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀 worth mentioning the new guy isn’t black afaik he is half Scottish half Indian. Also my friend is so obviously black it’s not like he passes for any other race. Omg. I have to fucking meet these people soon and I have to be normal

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inspofromancientworld · 5 months ago

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Tattoos of the Near East and Europe

Knowing the full history of tattooing is practically impossible as skin doesn't usually leave a record of itself except in very special circumstances. Despite this, we do know that tattooing goes back quite a long time in human history and span almost every culture in the world. Joann Fletcher, a research fellow at the University of York in the United Kingdom, works with ancient Egyptian mummies, who were once thought to be the first group of people to tattoo because they mummified their dead. However, with the discovery of Ötzi the Iceman, that date was pushed back even farther because he was mummified by the cold, preserving his skin for 5300 years, about 1300 years before the earliest known Egyptian mummy to have one.

Tattoos on the body of Ötzi, the Tyrolean Iceman South Tyrol Museum of Archaeology / EURAC / Samadelli / Staschitz

Ötzi's tattoos lead us to believe that they were for health reasons, to alleviate the pain of strained or degenerating joints. His tattoos were not placed in such a way that would allow for easy display of status, given they were placed over his lower spine and right knee and ankle.

This blue bowl (circa 1300 B.C.E.), housed in the Rijksmuseum van Oudheden in Leiden, Amsterdam, features a musician tattooed with an image of the household deity Bes on her thigh. Joann Fletcher

Ancient Egyptians had figurines with tattoos as early as 4000 BCE and began representing them in tomb paintings around 1200 BCE and tools dated to around 1450 BCE were found near Gurob in northern Egypt. The vast majority of the people that were tattooed in these figurines and paintings, as well as mummies, were female and the tattoo was placed on their thighs, breasts, and abdomens. Because of the gender of the tattooed person and the archaeologists (largely male), for a long time, they were dismissed as 'dancing girls'. That the mummies were found in Deir el-Bahari, where the upper crust were berried, only managed to move the description to 'probably a royal concubine' (basically 'fancy' sex workers). However, Fletcher is of the opinion that these tattoos may have been a permanent amulet, probably tot aid in pregnancy and birth and possibly against sexually transmitted diseases. She also thinks that it was older women who would tattoo the younger women, perhaps as a way of passing down their own strength and fortitude to them.

This is in contrast to other cultures that used tattoos for decoration, though there is some evidence that there were therapeutic ones within the ones we've found preserved. Ancient Libyans were depicted by the Egyptians around 1300 BCE with male leaders wearing geometrical tattoos on their arms and legs.

Tattoo on the arm of a Pazyryk tribal chief, Altai Mountains, 5th century B.C.E. The Hermitage Museum

The Scythian Pazyryk of the Altai Mountain region of Siberia also used ornate tattoos all over their bodies, including mythical creatures on both a male and female ice people. These mummies date to about 400 BCE. The Greek historian Herodotus wrote about the Scythians and Thracians that their 'tattoos were a mark of nobility, and to not have them was testimony of low birth'. This stood out to him because the Greeks and Romans only really used tattoos to show that someone 'belonged' to either a religious sect or a person, or had been a criminal.

Greek vase (circa 450-440 B.CE.) depicting the death of Orpheus by a tattooed Thracian ArchaiOptix, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Despite these leanings, Ptolemy IV of Egypt (reigning from 221-205 BCE) was tattooed with ivy leaves to symbolize his devotion to Dionysus, who was the patron god of royalty as well as wine at the time. This led to Roman soldiers also getting tattoos, at least until Christianity spread; then they were found again to be disfiguring and banned by Emperor Constantine.

The trend of Christianity spreading at the end of a sword or gun caused a lot of native cultures tattooing practices to be vilified.

(TBC)

#tattoos #tattoo history #human history #mummies #Ötzi #otzi the iceman #egyptology #ancient egypt #ancient greece

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