greekgeek
Wanderer
My retellings of Greek myths
I've added a new rotating feature on my ancient Greece page which some of you might enjoy: Myth of the Week.
I'm starting with ones most of you probably know already, but hopefully my little mini-myth retellings will present them in an enjoyable fashion. My main source is Ovid -- not that I'm going back and checking his version, but I've read Metamorphoses often enough that I tend to write with a Roman more than a Greek style, and tend to recall the details he throws in.
So far I've had Arion and the Dolphin last week, and the new one is Philemon and Baucis.
Here's my account of Arion:
Arion and the Dolphin
Based mostly on accounts by Ovid and Herodotus, with a few original additions.
There was a youth in ancient Corinth who played the lyre with such skill that many said he was taught by the legendary musician Orpheus, for he had the power to charm beasts with his songs.
Once upon a time, young Arion learned a music contest was to be held in Ionia, birthplace of Homer, with a crown of laurel and a bag of silver for a prize. Wealth did not draw Arion, but like any Greek hero, he wanted to win fame.
His friend Periander, king of Corinth, warned him of pirates and shipwrecks. In those days, passenger ships did not exist: you embarked on any passing vessel and hoped you would reach your destination. But Arion was so keen to go that the king paid a merchant to take him aboard.
Arion played beautifully in Ionia, and sure enough, he won both prize and fame. He booked passage back with the same merchant who had conveyed him across the sea, and headed for home full of stories and pride.
When they were nearly back to Corinth, the merchant came to him one morning and said, "I'm sorry, lad, but we must kill you. We want that bag of silver you've won." For the merchant was really a pirate, as were so many ship captains in those days. They'd rob you, sell you into slavery or hold you for ransom if they thought they could get a good price, because that was a fast way to riches.
Arion started to plead for his life, but he saw the sailors waiting with drawn swords and knew they had no reason to spare him. So he asked a favor of his would-be executioners, that he might play one last song.
The crew thought it would be a fine thing to tell their children that they had heard the last song of Arion the harper, so they agreed. He took his place at the prow and set his hand to the strings.
He sang of the red poppies on the stone walls of Corinth and the golden grain of Eleusis and the purple wine of Epidauros. He sang of the deep green caves of Ocean where Nereids wove the tides. He sang of Kalypso's veil and Odysseus' tears, and the head of Orpheus floating upon the waves.The sailors held their breaths. Then Arion jumped into the sea.
Since the ship was many miles from shore, the crew assumed he would drown and sailed on. But a dolphin drawn by his music rose under Arion and said, "Keep playing, master, and I will take you anywhere, even the ends of the world."
"No need to go that far," Arion gasped. "Take me to Corinth!" He raised his lyre and played while the dolphin crested the waves.
At last he came into the Bay of Corinth in this outlandish fashion, and the local fisherman and sailors were much amazed. They drew him from the water and gathered around him on the shore. The commotion soon reached the palace of King Periander, who came down to the harbor to learn the cause of the disturbance. There he found Arion, dripping but unharmed, and learned the whole tale. The youth was fed and clothed and escorted back to the court at the king's command.
The next day the merchant ship put in at the harbor. Its captain and crew soon found themselves summoned to the royal court. There Periander inquired what news they had of his young friend, and where he might be now.
"It was terrible, your majesty," said the captain. "Arion won the contest, but offended the gods. One day on the voyage home, he boasted that he was a better harper than Apollo and a greater singer than Orpheus. He had no sooner finished taunting the winds when a huge wave broke over the prow and swept him away. We searched the waves but found no trace of him. His bag of silver must have pulled him down into the deeps. Alas, mortals can't defy the gods."
"No, they can't," said the king and called Arion to step forth from hiding. "Here is he whom you meant to drown. But the gods sent a helper to thwart your villainy."
Then Periander ordered servants to search the ship while her crew was detained. Sure enough, they found the bag of silver under the captain's chair. The king's judgment was stern; pirates and their leader were weighted down with bags of stones and cast into the sea.
But that was not quite the end of the tale. For Corinthians say that for many years after, the kindly dolphin came often into the harbor to hear Arion play. When the animal died, the gods put it in the sky, a little constellation that guides good sailors home. Gaze up on a cloudless night in summer or fall, and you might spot the little fish-shaped constellation called Delphinius.
________________
Like this one? Check out the newest myth of the week on my Greece Odyssey page by clicking the link below:
I've added a new rotating feature on my ancient Greece page which some of you might enjoy: Myth of the Week.
I'm starting with ones most of you probably know already, but hopefully my little mini-myth retellings will present them in an enjoyable fashion. My main source is Ovid -- not that I'm going back and checking his version, but I've read Metamorphoses often enough that I tend to write with a Roman more than a Greek style, and tend to recall the details he throws in.
So far I've had Arion and the Dolphin last week, and the new one is Philemon and Baucis.
Here's my account of Arion:
Arion and the Dolphin
Based mostly on accounts by Ovid and Herodotus, with a few original additions.
There was a youth in ancient Corinth who played the lyre with such skill that many said he was taught by the legendary musician Orpheus, for he had the power to charm beasts with his songs.
Once upon a time, young Arion learned a music contest was to be held in Ionia, birthplace of Homer, with a crown of laurel and a bag of silver for a prize. Wealth did not draw Arion, but like any Greek hero, he wanted to win fame.
His friend Periander, king of Corinth, warned him of pirates and shipwrecks. In those days, passenger ships did not exist: you embarked on any passing vessel and hoped you would reach your destination. But Arion was so keen to go that the king paid a merchant to take him aboard.
Arion played beautifully in Ionia, and sure enough, he won both prize and fame. He booked passage back with the same merchant who had conveyed him across the sea, and headed for home full of stories and pride.
When they were nearly back to Corinth, the merchant came to him one morning and said, "I'm sorry, lad, but we must kill you. We want that bag of silver you've won." For the merchant was really a pirate, as were so many ship captains in those days. They'd rob you, sell you into slavery or hold you for ransom if they thought they could get a good price, because that was a fast way to riches.
Arion started to plead for his life, but he saw the sailors waiting with drawn swords and knew they had no reason to spare him. So he asked a favor of his would-be executioners, that he might play one last song.
The crew thought it would be a fine thing to tell their children that they had heard the last song of Arion the harper, so they agreed. He took his place at the prow and set his hand to the strings.
He sang of the red poppies on the stone walls of Corinth and the golden grain of Eleusis and the purple wine of Epidauros. He sang of the deep green caves of Ocean where Nereids wove the tides. He sang of Kalypso's veil and Odysseus' tears, and the head of Orpheus floating upon the waves.The sailors held their breaths. Then Arion jumped into the sea.
Since the ship was many miles from shore, the crew assumed he would drown and sailed on. But a dolphin drawn by his music rose under Arion and said, "Keep playing, master, and I will take you anywhere, even the ends of the world."
"No need to go that far," Arion gasped. "Take me to Corinth!" He raised his lyre and played while the dolphin crested the waves.
At last he came into the Bay of Corinth in this outlandish fashion, and the local fisherman and sailors were much amazed. They drew him from the water and gathered around him on the shore. The commotion soon reached the palace of King Periander, who came down to the harbor to learn the cause of the disturbance. There he found Arion, dripping but unharmed, and learned the whole tale. The youth was fed and clothed and escorted back to the court at the king's command.
The next day the merchant ship put in at the harbor. Its captain and crew soon found themselves summoned to the royal court. There Periander inquired what news they had of his young friend, and where he might be now.
"It was terrible, your majesty," said the captain. "Arion won the contest, but offended the gods. One day on the voyage home, he boasted that he was a better harper than Apollo and a greater singer than Orpheus. He had no sooner finished taunting the winds when a huge wave broke over the prow and swept him away. We searched the waves but found no trace of him. His bag of silver must have pulled him down into the deeps. Alas, mortals can't defy the gods."
"No, they can't," said the king and called Arion to step forth from hiding. "Here is he whom you meant to drown. But the gods sent a helper to thwart your villainy."
Then Periander ordered servants to search the ship while her crew was detained. Sure enough, they found the bag of silver under the captain's chair. The king's judgment was stern; pirates and their leader were weighted down with bags of stones and cast into the sea.
But that was not quite the end of the tale. For Corinthians say that for many years after, the kindly dolphin came often into the harbor to hear Arion play. When the animal died, the gods put it in the sky, a little constellation that guides good sailors home. Gaze up on a cloudless night in summer or fall, and you might spot the little fish-shaped constellation called Delphinius.
________________
Like this one? Check out the newest myth of the week on my Greece Odyssey page by clicking the link below: