rosiphelee | Happy Birthday, Brandi

Happy Birthday, Brandi

I hope it's a good one.

I know I haven't managed to read anything of yours yet (but the more I hear about the more I want to) but I've seen enough of your characters around to hope you'll like this. No centaurs or satyrs, I'm afraid, but it is directly inspired by Ovid's Metamorphoses and his tale of Ceyx and Alcyone. Please forgive the odd bit of dodgy metre.

Halcyon

Roman Ovid in his good book does tell
Of the isle of Thessaly, where did dwell
Ceyx, the king, who loved full well
Alcyone, his wife, ‘til terrible things

Befell them, in winter. When on voyage
Sailed Ceyx, and the tempest did rage.
The king’s ship was sunk, as is writ on the page.
The queen’s heart was broken when her last hope fell.

Morpheus, dream’s king, was by her malaise
Driven to pity and so did upraise
The ghost of dead Ceyx to her dreams amaze.
Thus spoke the spirit, her grief to assuage:

Windkeeper’s daughter, still do I watch thee,
Clear-visaged queen, proud Alcyone.
Although I am drowned, beneath the dark sea
No less do I love thee from where the weed sways.

Why hast thou left me, Thessalian king?
With sweet winds behind, thy bold ship took wing
But dark waves o’ertook thee; now dirges I sing
Deep-voicéd husband, no less I love thee.

Full swiftly I sailed homewards to thy side.
Haste thus betrayed me for as the isle I spied
The sea rose against me and, still yearning, I died.
Now, ever lonely, in deep tides I swing.

The high cliffs I roam, alone and unsure.
For thy touch longing, how shall I endure?
The comforting voices can offer no cure
When I fear every morn the gift of the tide.

I shall arise from the shadow-dark ocean
To speak to thee, dear, through your dream’s grey emotion
And pledge to thee, sweet, my undying devotion.
Shrink not from me, wife, though my flesh is not pure.

What horror is this? My husband departed?
‘Tis Ceyx, decayed, but I’ll not be faint-hearted
Though his skull did not show when voyage started –
O, it cannot be true – this dire notion!

My dear love, ‘tis I, my vows yet unbroken
The husband with whom thou oftimes have woken
Turn from me not, as if thou never had spoken
Of love without measure, two hearts e’er unparted.

My Ceyx is dead, storm-widowed am I,
Begone, dream-shade, I do thee deny,
Withdraw thy chill touch, afore I give cry
And so from nightmare let myself be broken.

Treacherous princess, yet more faithless wife
I keep my vows in death, thou but in life
Be thou ashamed! Thou hast caused such strife
Within my heart I seem once more to die.

Unkindly spirit, I feel no shame
In life did I love thee, now thou hast no claim
Thy quick body warmed me but dead, I proclaim,
Thy wet hand doth chill me that once was my life.

Is thy love then so paltry, to thy troth
Decry? I would have loved thee throughout both
Sorrow and age. If deny thou thine oath
I know thou desired but my realm and my name.

‘Tis not true, my lord – I loved thee full well!
Gladly my kisses on thy sweet lips did dwell.
Thy touch was like honey but now I thee tell
To hold thy cold body I surely am loath.

False were thy tears, thy loud lamentation!
Thou summoned me here, a foul visitation
When thou screamed to the world thy heart’s devastation.
Thou begged me, dear wife, to return from the swell.

Then I still hoped thou had lived through the storm.
I craved not drowned corpse to keep me warm
But the husband I loved with his sun-sculpted form,
His laugh, his passion, his clumsy flirtation.

Was your vowed love just so shallow,
Of such frailties comprised? Youth may be callow
But thy wisdom, I thought, virtues did hallow
Not merely how pretty manners perform.

I loved thine honour; thy strength in the court
Thy grave mercy in conversing, thy thought
On high matters. Yet I’ll do as I ought –
Love betwixt quick and dead the gods will not allow.

I wish I was live or that you were dead
For, now we are parted, all joy has fled.
Farewell, my dear wife, there’s no more to be said.
I leave thee, dear queen, though thou art distraught.

~*~

The spectre faded. Alcyone awoke.
She could not arise. With tears did she soak
The coverlet which had once been the cloak
Of the drowned husband whose spirit she’d fled.

Her maids begged her cease but she would not them heed.
Her mind tumbled o’er what the ghost had dared plead
And she gathered her courage for to do the deed.
Better to die than her heart’s vows revoke.

Swiftly she fled to the storm-beaten shore,
To cruel cliffs where waves, crumpling, did roar
And the voracious gulls, keening, did soar.
There the queen begged the gods to intercede.

Hera, true marriage’s stern patron;
Aphrodite, love’s queen sweet and sovran;
Poseidon, who with his trident brought on
The widowing storm, this wife did implore.

“Let me live with my love or else let me die
We honoured you well, now with mercy reply.
Release me from sorrow, do not me deny.
Leave me not lonely. I’ve no wish to go on.”

With this cry she leapt forth from the headland.
The fair queen was falling to the pale strand
When Argive Hera extended her hand
And caught Alcyone out of the sky.

“Dear daughter, I’ll help, but my limits are these:
I’ll no dead man living bring out of the seas
Nor steal thy breath, whatever thy pleas.
You both I’ll transform – this is my command!”

So saying she cast the queen from her hold.
Alcyone, a-fall, felt wild and bold –
To Ceyx she went, adrift in the cold.
Swift as her glory rose a sweet-scented breeze

Which lifted the sad queen o’er the sea.
From the bright waves a winged form break free –
Ceyx, transforméd, cried, “Alcyone!”
And the sky-queen felt her own wings unfold.

No longer parted, the lovers rose high,
Their bright wings pennants in the winter sky.
Not king nor queen but as birds they did fly.
Mortal life now forsaken: from sorrow now free.

Sailor-King Ceyx comes no more to port.
King Fisher they call him – the ocean his court.
Fair Alcyone now gives not a thought
To bereavement that once made her cry.

When the cold winds of winter cut like a knife
And the dark solstice in heaven breeds strife
The halcyon nests and to help her give life
The gods grant her cry will foul weather abort.

So, hearken ye all, sailors and kings,
How high waves still ‘neath the spread of her wings
And storms quiet when the halcyon sings
Sail in her season – and come safe to your wife.

Enjoy the rest of your day ^_^