The Blood of Adonis

Many a time in ancient lore did a mortal fall afoul of the gods, for offences slight or grievous. Often did the Olympians strike back with overwhelming vengeance, so as to discourage insubordination in the future, and preserve the pristine honour of Heaven. But just sometimes, that vengeance rebounded upon its creator, and gods would know the pain of mortals. The story of Adonis is one such example.

The Birth of Adonis
Painting by Marcantonio Franceschini

There was once Cinyras on the throne of Assyria, with his adoring Queen Cenchreis. The family had just one heir, their young daughter, Princess Myrrha. As they watched their daughter grew, the Royal Family and the Assyrians marvelled at her beauty. Some called it Heaven bestowed. Others good fortune. But when the time came when Myrrha came of age, Queen Cenchreis proudly boasted that her daughter's beauty surpassed even that of Venus herself. A glowing compliment for a daughter. A blasphemous offence to a goddess. High on Mount Olympus, the goddess heard her. Never had so terrible a wrath been wrought upon so innocent a crime. Such fury behind the fair face of Heaven's most beloved daughter. The goddess' righteous fury sped down from Olympus as a flash of lightning, delivering forbidden passion into the mind of the Princess. Venus condemned her, rebounding her natural passion upon her own family, and thereafter she would forever have eyes for only her father. Overcome with frenzied passion, disguised by her loyal maids, Myrrha pursued her father with all her energy, employing every trick of deception to fool him of her true identity. Dark was the hour of man when at last she caught her quarry. The following day, when King Cinyras discovered the identity of his seducer, he tore the sword from his scabbard and pursued her, devastated and outraged by her perverse corruption.

Maddened by grief and the affliction that cursed her mind, Myrrha resolved to end her life. She had just prepared the rope from which she would swing when her handmaiden stayed her hand. High on Olympus, Vengeful Venus at last knew pity, and decided to end her suffering. At the goddess' command, the Princess shifted and became a beautiful tree. Ever after mortals would call it the fairest in the grove, the most beautifully scented, the myrrh tree.

The Birth of Venus
Painting by  Nicolas Poussin

Eight months passed, and the world it seemed, lay in peace. Then, on the ninth, the tree burst asunder, revealing a baby boy who would be the envy of all men - Adonis. Pity still afflicted Venus, but when she cast her godly eye over the myrrh tree, all was forgotten when she saw the boy. Knowing immediately that he would grow to become the most handsome man who ever lived, she was at once obsessed with the boy. Fearing for harm that may come to the boy, she bound him in an adamant casket and entrusted it to Persephone, Queen of the Underworld, for there was no safer place than the Underworld, where all the bounty of the Earth ultimately hails. For many a year, young Adonis grew up and grew strong away from the light, but safe.

Adonis in glory
Painting by Benjamin West

Time soon passed, and a boy he was no more. Venus made the journey to reclaim the boy, but found trouble lay ahead. For Persephone fell immediately for Adonis' astonishing beauty, and had no intention of relinquishing her charge. But when Venus saw Adonis, man at last, she was stunned. The goddess of love felt her own power take hold of her, as Cupid's arrow struck her with irresistible force - a thing never to happen before. Profane love indeed, for Adonis was a cursed man. Conceived through incest, a violation of nature, the Fates had spun a finite thread for the fairest of all men. Both goddesses quarrelled intensively over him, until Jupiter the Thunderer, lord of Heaven and Earth, was forced to intercede. The King of the Gods ruled that for Adonis, the year would be divided three ways. Four months he would spend in the Underworld with Persephone, four with Venus, and four were to be given to him to do as he will. Both goddesses bowed at this compromise and eagerly prepared for their turn.

Venus and Adonis
Painting by Francois Lemoyne

Over time, however, it became apparent to which goddess Adonis himself preferred. Having grown up neverknowing the feel of the sun, the touch of grass nor the sound of birds singing, he could not wait to escape the world of Underland. The four precious months of his very own he therefore decided to spend with Venus too. Persephone fumed in Hades, Venus rejoiced on Earth. Many an hour did man and goddess spend together walking the pastures and forests of the Earth. A naturally athletic man, Adonis took to hunting, a noble pastime for men of the age. Soon both men and gods began to envy him. Mortal men longed for his looks and his muscles. Gods resented the affections of a goddess directed at a mortal. Jealous of Venus, Persephone revealed the affair to Mars, god of war and deeply smitten with Venus. Furious, the lord of battles and bloodshed plotted his vengeance on this upstart mortal. But far down on the Earth, Venus and Adonis were oblivious to all others, each perfect in all ways. Venus liked to watch Adonis hunt, but feared for him as his quarries grew mightier and mightier in stature. Eventually, fearing for his safety, she begged him not to hunt the wildest and most dangerous beasts. "Thus cautious Venus school'd her fav'rite boy; but youthful heat all cautions will destroy... his sprightly soul beyond grave counsels flies..."

The Death of Adonis
Painting by Luca Giordano

One hot summer's morning, Adonis awoke bright and early for the day's hunt. As the Sun rose higher in the day, the dogs caught a strange new scent, barking loudly. Adonis, eagerness peaked by the sound, seized his spear and set off on the chase into the scrub. The smell of sweat drew the hounds near, and there the object of his hunt lay. A mighty boar, powerfully built and sharply tusked, stood defiantly in the forest clearing. As soon as Adonis looked upon it, he was overcome with an urge to hunt it, claim it as the trophy of his prizes. No finer a beast had ever he seen, let alone caught. Some magic or other ill was at work that day, as thirst for glory drove the warnings of his beloved far from his mind. With a heart of valour, Adonis lifted his faithful spear, and with the strength of a hunter of prodigious skill, he hurled the metalled barb at the beast. A strange boar this war, for boar it was not. Shadow covered the glade, and in that moment the deception was laid bare. It was no common boar, nor any other beast of game, for there lay the war god himself in disguise. Terror chill gripped Adonis. Too late did he recall the words of Venus, and he turned to run. But one does not attack a god without consequence:


            " The trembling boy by flight his safety sought,
              and now recall'd the lore, which Venus taught;
              but now too late to fly the boar he strove,
              who in the groin his tusks impetuous drove,
              On the discolour'd grass Adonis lay,
              The monster trampling o'er his beauteous prey... "
                   - MARS' REVENGE

The Adonis River
Photograph taken by Adrien Valentine

A piercing scream rent the air apart and echoed through the valleys. To the godly bone it chilled Venus. Knowing all too well the voice, her heart froze. Fear gripped her fair body, an emotion few gods could say they knew, a terrible sensation at all times, yet worse when it is new. Immediately she sped to his side, as quietly Mars triumphantly stole away into the forest. Blood leaked from the tusk wound in the boy's side, and deathly was his pallor. Gentle groans emanated from his lips, tears from the eyes of Venus. The blood of Adonis ran through the nectar of the flowers, and where the droplets fell upon the earth, the anemone burst into life, brimming with colour. The river near where he lay ran red for many ages after, and to this day bears his name. So the curse of Adonis' family came to pass, and the ultimate revenge of Myrrha upon her tormentor. Ever after was Venus broken, though nine months later, she too gave birth, this time to daughter, Beroe. It is after this daughter that the city of Beirut is named...

United Kingdom

Penguin Classics
Metamorphoses: A New Verse Translation (Penguin Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

Oxford World's Classics
Metamorphoses (Oxford World's Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

United States

Penguin Classics
Metamorphoses (Penguin Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

Oxford World's Classics
Metamorphoses (Oxford World's Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

The Arrow's Graze

Cupid
Sculpture by Bertel Thorvaldsen

There came one day when Cupid, the god of desire and son of Venus, took up the arms of Apollo, lord of the Sun, mischief on his powerful mind. Stringing the bow of Leto's son, he loosed a bolt to and fro, merrily playing and readying his aim. But Apollo saw him, and was incensed to fury at the young spirit. "Thou lascivious boy", spake he, "are arms like these for children to employ?" The Sun god berated Cupid, denouncing him as inferior in strength of body and of mind, of aim and eye. Might had been the conquests of the Sun gods bow, mortal and monster alike, the great serpent which terrorised the Delphic vale and more beside. "What is the power of desire, beside the fatal barb of my shot?", he mocked. But wily Cupid, cunning within him beyond his size, rounded on the god. "Mine the fame shall be, of all thy conquests, when I conquer thee". Vowing vengeance upon Apollo for his curses, Cupid, flying high to the peak of Mount Parnassus, brandished his deadly gift.



                    " Two diff'rent shafts he from his quiver draws;
                      One to repel desire, and one to cause.
                      One shaft is pointed with refulgent gold:
                      To bribe the love, and make the lover bold:
                      One blunt, and tipped with lead, whose base allay
                      Provokes disdain, and drives desire away.
                      The blunted bolt against the nymph he drest:
                      But with the sharp transfixt Apollo's breast. "

                            - CUPID CURSES APOLLO

Taking the arrow fixed with lead, the youthful spirit took deadly aim, and loosed the barb at his target. Far below upon the plain, there danced a naiad, Daphne was her name, daughter of the river Peneus. A fair lady beyond all others, the nymph had always been plagued by the advances of weak hearted men. But, shunning the ways of ordinary maidens, Daphne preferred the hunt to the arts of grace. Faithful to Diana, the Lady of the Moon and Hunt, many a time could Daphne be found, stalking her quarry in the forests. As the goddess herself, she swore herself pure, never to be violated in body, or in mind. The title of bride she scorned, the glades of the trees, she embraced. Often did her father chide her ways, for such passions were not the ways of other ladies and nymphs. But strong willed Daphne cared not, throwing her arms around her father's neck. "Give me, my Lord", she cried, "to live, and die, a spotless mad, without the marriage tye. 'Tis but a small request; I beg no more than what Zeus the Thunderer, sire of Diana, gave before". His angered gaze softened, and he at last relented, seeing the daughter he held so dear, granting her destiny. He granted her wish, but gave her warning - her wish would one day prove her punishment. Her beauty was as a curse now. Her own face would be her doom. It was to Daphne now, that Cupid's leaden dart flew swift and true, soaring through the Heavens, over plain and field and brook, piercing the nymph's oblivious side, banishing desire from her once and for all, cursing her to despise the first being she looked upon.

Apollo and the Muses
Painting by Jan van Balen

Not a moment to delay, young Cupid seized the golden barb from his quiver, and took careful aim. Just yonder stood the Sun god himself, Apollo in his rage. Steady was his hand, and keen his eye. A flash of gold, and the arrow whipped into the Sun god's breast, bearing upon its burnished tip the sparks of desire , dooming its victim to deadly infatuation with the first being he looked upon. His eyes averted by the shock of the dart, Apollo opened his divine eye, and down upon the mortal plain he gazed. It was there that he caught sight of her. Tender arms, and flowing hair, she danced through the sylvan glade. As the parched field in the high summer, when the traveller casts his flaming brand upon the grass, that was how the god was now afire. The golden point within fuelled a fire without mercy or respite, seizing his mind, all thought and hope now bent upon the nymph. His eyes passed over her dishevelled hair, her eyes as heavenly lamps, her delicate hands, and in that moment he was doomed.


With the celerity no god could match, but a god filled with raw passion alone could know, Apollo thundered down from the heights of Mount Olympus, all thought of other things, all hopes, all fears, all duties, banished from his mind. Into the shade of the great forest the light of the Sun came, and it was in that moment that Daphne turned and saw her admirer for the first time. Hideous revulsion and disgust raw flooded her, as the leaden bolt burned bright within her. With horror at the hateful figure she saw before her, the naiad turned tail in flight. More swiftly than any spirit had moved before, Daphne fled. Anguish mingled with fear when the Sun god saw her run, would he lose her? No doubt in the mind of the god, he made hot pursuit. Both spirits of the immortal gods, both unmoved by fatigue, both raced across the world, one doomed never to reach his quarry, the other never to leave it. The huntress was now as the hunted. Through open plains, through meadows, through mountains, through rivers and through valleys god and naiad chased, no hint of sweat upon either brow, for god, no hint of capture, for naiad, no hint of evasion. "Stay Nymph", Apollo cried, "I follow not a foe... Thou shunn'st a God, and shunn'st a God that loves!". To Daphne Apollo called, begging her to stop:


                    " Abate thy speed, and I will bate of mine.
                      Yet think from whom thou dost so rashly fly;
                      Nor basely born, nor shepherd's swain am I.
                      Perhaps thou know'st not my superior state;
                      And from that ignorance proceeds thy hate.
                      Me Claros, Delphi, Tenedos obey;
                      These hands the Patareian scepter sway.
                      The King of Gods begot me: what shall be,
                      Or is, or ever was, in Fate, I see.
                      Mine is th' invention of the charming lyre;
                      Sweet notes, and heaven'ly numbers, I inspire.
                      Sure is my bow, unerring is my dart... "
                              - APOLLO CALLS TO DAPHNE


Not half of the Sun god's pleas did bold Daphne hear. Long ago had she voweda life of chastity, here was her greatest test, and she would not violate her oath now. "Fear gave her wings", and as she fled with haste anew, the wind blew her flowing hair, and Apollo, stricken by flame again, was fired anew.

The Metamorphosis of Daphne
Painting by Giovanni Battista Tiepolo

"She urg'd by fear, her feet did swiftly move, but he more swiftly, who was urg'd by love". Now at last, the god gained pace, and the gap began to edge closer. With such fury did Apollo thunder across the plains, he spared not one spare reserve of divine effort calling to her, focused as he was on just touching her. A glance behind, and pure Daphne spied the god bearing closer down, and the naiad grew pale with terror. The labours of her long bid for freedom wore heavy upon her soft shoulders, but still she did not bow to what could have been inevitable. Desperate now, she called to her father, Peneus, lord of the river, "Oh help", she cried, "in this extremest need! If water gods are deities indeed, gape Earth, and this unhappy wretch intomb; or change my form, when all my sorrows come." With the utmost need did Daphne call, and the god heard her. Pitying her daughter, remembering how he had warned her that she would be forever cursed by her beauty, he bowed to her final wish. An incantation he spake aloud, words of power radiating from the river. Apollo reached out for her, and Daphne gasped:


                   " Scarce had she finish'd, when her feet she found
                      Benumb'd with cold, and fasten'd to the ground:
                      A filmy rind about her body grows;
                      Her hair to leaves, her arms extend to boughs:
                      The nymph is all into a laurel gone;
                      The smoothness of her skin remains alone... "
                            - THE METAMORPHOSIS OF DAPHNE

With a howl of broken hope, Apollo looked on as the very pinnacle of his heart's desire changed to tree before his eyes, cursing the god that robbed him of his prize. Round her waist he threw his arms, but round a trunk his arms fell. Some warmth he found still, a heaving heart within. But in vain did he call her name, for once where there was naiad, there was now only the fair bark of a laurel tree, the first laurel tree. Apollo, stricken with tears, embraced the trunk and fixed his lips upon it. Wiping the tears from his eyes, the Sun god declared:


                   " Because thou canst not be
                      My mistress, I espouse thee for my tree:
                      Be thou the prize of honour, and renown;
                      The deathless poet, and the poem, crown.
                      Thou shalt the Roman festivals adorn,
                      And, after poets, be by victors be worn.
                      Thou shalt returning Caesar's triumph grace;
                      When pomps shall in a long procession grace;
                       Wreath'd on the posts before his palace wait;
                       And be the sacred guardian of the Gate.
                       Secure from thunder, and unharm'd by Jupiter,
                       Unfading as th' immortal Pow'rs above...
                       So shall perpetual green thy boughs adorn... "
                                - APOLLO'S PLEDGE TO THE LAUREL


Deep within the spirit of the tree, Daphne heard his words at last, and grateful was she, and the tree bowed respectfully to the god. Ever after was the laurel tree the symbol of victory, worn as a wreath upon the crown of champions, and never again did Apollo doubt the power of desire...


United Kingdom

Metamorphoses:
Metamorphoses: A New Verse Translation (Penguin Classics)
(The Source for many of the myths of ancient lore, written by a Roman poet)

United States

Metamorphoses:

Metamorphoses (Penguin Classics)
(The Source for many of the myths of ancient lore, written by a Roman poet)  

The Seeds of the Pomegranate

Myths have, in so many civilisations, sought to explain what science could not. As science evolves, so too do myths. For man today ever seeks to understand the world in which he lives, no less than the man of three thousand years ago. One such phenomenon in nature was the changing of the seasons, a thing so critical to man's bond with the land. Here is one such story of how the seasons came into being.

Demeter
Photograph taken by Marie-Lan Nguyen
Sculpture in the Vatican Museums

One of the quieter goddesses, Demeter yet held a honoured position on Mount Olympus. She remained, after all, the sister of Zeus himself, and a daughter of Kronos, greatest of the Titans (for the story of their birth, please click here). Whilst her illustrious brothers reigned at the forefront, diligently watching over the affairs of man and the deeds of heroes, Demeter took a quieter role in the cosmos. For she was the lady of the harvest, to whom all men prayed to grant abundance to their crops. In these most ancient times, the bounty of the Earth was great all year round, as bushels of corn burst forth from the fields each day. There was, however, one thing Demeter treasured above all else. Persephone, her daughter, was renowned throughout the world as a paragon of beauty. Where mother and daughter walked, the sun shone brightly, flowers bloomed, the grasses rippled in the gentle breeze and the maize swelled at their fertile touch. Many gods had sought her favour, but Demeter had refused all suitors to Persephone. One god, more than any other, grazed by Cupid's arrow, was transfixed by her. His cold and dark demeanour could not have been further away from the sun drenched world above. For he was Hades, the god of death and lord of the Underworld, who rued the grisly world gifted to him at the Creation. His divine flesh was tinged with a sickly pallor, deprived of sunlight far below the surface of the Earth, and the light of life was far distant from his eyes. But longingly did he look upon Persephone.

Enna
Photograph taken by Massimiliano Canale

One day, Hades could endure the torment no longer, and came before Zeus, high on Mount Olympus. The Thunderer, surprised to see his brother in the Overworld, was stunned to see the anguish upon Hades' face. The god of the dead bowed before Zeus, and implored him to grant Persephone to him so that she could be his wife. The King of the gods was troubled by this request. For Persephone was also his daughter (incest being an alas regular occurrence in Greek Mythology), and she would never forgive her father for sending her to the dank depths of the Underworld. What was more, Demeter would never allow it, having spurned so many other deities before. Yet Hades was his brother, and he had no wish to offend him. What then, was the King of the gods to do? Torn by his duties, Zeus resigned to neutrality, neither granting Hades' wish, nor denying it, sending his brother away while he deliberated. Time passed, and the lord of the dead grew restless in his black abode. If Zeus had not forbidden it, then he must be allowed to, he thought. His patience gone at last, Hades resolved to take Persephone himself.

Hades seizes Persephone
Painting by Nicolò dell'Abate

Meanwhile, far above on the golden meadows of Sicily, Persephone and her handmaidens were dancing in the rolling fields. Revelling in the summer bloom, the goddesses were picking flowers near Enna, for a magnificent garland. Just then, Persephone noticed the particularly vibrant petals of a narcissus. Leaning over, she clasped the flower. As her soft fingers closed around the stem, a deafening roar shook the Earth. The goddesses screamed and jumped back in fear, for before them a vast fissure had torn the Earth asunder, a pit to the black abyss. Bursting forth from within came the god of the dead himself, in all his deathly glory, on a mighty chariot pulled by four towering black steeds. With a strength belying his ghostly complexion, Hades seized Persephone by the waist and took her into his chariot. With a crack of the whip, the god made haste, and hurtled back to the blackness of the abyss, as the handmaidens looked on, paralysed with shock and terror. The gaping maw of the chasm pulled shut with a roar, and the gateway between this world and the nether world sealed. Where once there was song, only silence prevailed.


Demeter, as yet unaware of Persephone's fate, called out to her daughter. When no reply came, she called again and again. Confused, and worried, the lady of the harvest looked, but did not find. Soon her worry turned to fear, as she could find her nowhere. Across the land she frantically searched, but no trace of her was to be found. For nine days the goddess searched, oblivious to hunger and fatigue. Distraught, soon Demeter found Persephone's belt, lying where she had been seized.


  " When she saw the gate-keepers fled, the house unguarded,
     the rusted hinges, the overthrown doorposts, and the miserable state
     of the silent halls, pausing not to look again at the disaster,
     she rent her garment and tore away the shattered corn-ears along with her hair.
     She could not weep nor speak nor breathe and a trembling
     shook the very marrow of her bones; her faltering steps tottered... "
                              - THE GRIEF OF DEMETER


Weeping, and angry, soon she neglected her duties as goddess of the harvest. Crops failed throughout the land. The grass withered and dried, green became brown, and maize became empty husks.  Wherever she trod, desert spread. Soon cattle, stricken with famine, collapsed in the barren fields. Mankind began to suffer too. Starving, soon people felt death's stricken hand drag them down to the House of Hades. The other gods came to Demeter and begged her to release the world from the deadly grip it was now locked in. But their pleas fell upon deaf ears, for Demeter thought only of  finding Persephone. Crying with frustration, Zeus ordered Hermes, the messenger of the gods, to travel down to Hades' realm, and release Persephone from the dark god's grip.

The Abduction of Persephone
Photograph taken by Steffen Heilfort

Meanwhile, deep in the depths of the Underworld, Persephone lay, a sad and melancholic shadow of her former self. Hades tried in vain to bring her round, and reconcile her with her new life, showing her the wealth that lay below the ground. The god of the dead held a large banquet to celebrate their wedding. Just as Persephone, resigned to her torment, placed her hand upon a pomegranate before her, a blinding light flashed throughout the darkness. Hermes appeared, in all his divine glory, commanding Hades to release his new bride. The dark god dared not disobey a direct order from Olympus, and reluctantly set her free, but with an odd indifference. Puzzled by the ease with which Hades handed her over, Hermes nevertheless took flight upon his winged sandals, bearing the new Queen of the Dead high to Olympus' lofty heights.

The Return of Persephone
Painting by Frederic Leighton

A storm of cheers raised the heights of the Divine Mountain as Persephone tentatively stepped into the banqueting hall, with the array of gods enthroned before her. With a cry of exultation, Demeter threw herself forward and embraced her daughter, tears of joy rolling down her fair cheek. All seemed well at last. The rains came, the drought subsided, and the crops grew plentiful once more. But then, at the moment of triumph, came forth the god Ascalaphus. A servant of Hades, who yearned for favour from his dark master, Ascalaphus, with a look of savage pleasure on his face, informed the assembled crowd that since Persephone had eaten the food of the Underworld, she was forbidden to leave it. The joy broke to silence. Jolted to the very core, Zeus realised he was right. The laws of the Fates were absolute, for it was indeed the law that any who took the food or drink of the Underworld was condemned to spend an eternity there. Persephone broke down in tears, for in her absent minded grief, she had eaten four seeds from the pomegranate at Hades' table. Demeter rounded on Ascalaphus in fury, and in her anger turned him into an owl, and he was forever banished from the domain of the gods. Pleading at the feet of Zeus, she begged the Thunderer for help. The gods debated long into the night. If the Fates were defied, the cosmos would be overturned in Chaos. But if Persephone could not be free, man would, for a second time, be hurled headlong into the grasp of death.

Dawn arrived. Demeter came before Zeus, awaiting his verdict with terror. Torn by inner conflict, the Thunderer decreed that since Persephone had eaten four seeds of the pomegranate, for four months of the year she would dwell with Hades in the Underworld. For the remaining eight, however, she was free to return to the Earth. So ever after, for much of the year the world was bathed in light and burdened under the fruits of the trees. As Persephone's time in Hades approached, Demeter grew sad again, and the land turned a shade of brown, and leaves began to fall from the trees, bringing Autumn. When Persephone descended to the Underworld, Demeter's grief was absolute, and the world was shrouded in white, and ice spread her glittering sheets across the land, bearing Winter. So the comings and goings of the seasons were born...

 United Kingdom

The Library of Mythology:
Apollodorus - The Library of Greek Mythology
(A vast collection of the myths of old Greece, written in ancient times, and a great intro)

The Theogony:
Hesiod - Theogony and Works and Days
(A tale of the beginning of the world, and the creation of the gods, briefly mentioning this story)

The Rape of Proserpina:
Claudian - The Rape of Proserpina
(Here is a link to a poetic retelling of the story, for the adventurous!)


United States

The Library of Mythology:
Apollodorus - The Library of Greek Mythology
(A vast collection of the myths of old Greece, written in ancient times, and a great intro)

The Theogony:
Hesiod - Theogony and Works and Days
(A tale of the beginning of the world, and the creation of the gods, briefly mentioning this story)

The Rape of Proserpina:
Claudian - The Rape of Proserpina
(Here is a link to a poetic retelling of the story, for the adventurous!)