Lament for Orpheus

Death of Orpheus, Jean Delville, 1893

by Brett Rutherford

     Adapted from Antipater of Sidon, The Greek Anthology, vii, 8

Orpheus, who once
the very oaks, and
rocks they stood upon,
made stand upright
and dance, whose voice
called out wild beasts
no shepherds knew --
wolf, panther, and boar
as tame as lambs,
so long as his lyre
enchanted them,

who charmed to sleep
the howling winds,
sent back the hail
into the spiting clouds,
withheld the snow
with just a song,

who with a strum
of golden strings,
could silence waves
and still the roar
of breakered tide --

once, but no more!
Orpheus is dead!
Up the wails come
from Memnosyne's
bereft daughters,
and chief among
the mourners, his
mother Calliope,
the poets' Muse.

Mortal, sigh not
if your son is dead.
What is the use
of weeping, when
even the gods
are powerless
to save their sons
from pitiless death.

Gone to Hades
a second time,
harsh is his fate
and unforgiving.
Youth's glory twice
gone: can the earth
bear this much woe?

Eheu for Orpheus!
Eheu for the living!