all waited for the holy moon to rise and light the world.
Fires in every town and hamlet were put out, and flame
still lingered only on the Bull-God’s steaming wicks;
all looked toward dawn when the new fire would light their hearths.
A golden lamp within the courtyards smoking serine 895
shone softly flickering and caressed the fertile Mother
who held her swelling breasts as votive offering high,
while the male double-ax hung over her, and swung.
Then white-winged Helen reposed at last like soil on earth,
and shut her gracious eyes, but in her mind still saw 900
the fat, rotund great goddess with her spreading flanks;
her eyes dimmed and her mind spun till there rose from earth
the holy fruitful tree of the dark goddess—sleep.
Gold votive offerings hung like apples from its boughs,
and with a mother’s sleep-alluring languid lullaby 905
the votive tree kept rustling till the seductress slept;
but then with a light twist of her unguarded mind
the full tree vanished, and above her bosom hung
a cluster of firm grapes, a bloodstained double-ax.
She laughed and raised both breasts on high as votive gifts. 910
Thus did the famous beauty dream on palace tiles,
but at her side the sleepless archer fought his heart
and gripped it like a snapping bitch to choke its yelping.
The door guard had not quaked to hear his dreaded name
but spurned him with no fear or reverence, barred the door, 915
so that his savage flame-filled heart had rushed at once
to fall on that pigheaded guard, break down the doors,
and, by a hair, had almost dragged the body with it.
Now sleepless and distressed, he took his heart to task:
“Bitch, will you still resist and bite your chains with rage? 920
You’re not the master at my castle’s brazen doors,
nor can you shut out or invite all those you please!
And when the sentry thwacked us with his heavy spear,
didn’t you hear me cry to swallow your tongue, you bitch?
But you howled on nor stopped until I called you thrice. 925
Don’t hurry, you poor wretch. Be patient, our time will come.”
Thus did the great heart-battler argue all night long;
he clenched and then unclenched his fists to grip his thoughts
as though composed of bodies, spears, or kindling wood.
The air blew like a sweet and cooling summer breeze, 930
lilies and myrtles swayed, and in the lofty comice
the royal banners flapped, the double-axes gleamed,
till suddenly in the frenzied mind of the sea-battler
the night-drenched palace rose like a great-masted ship.
Oho! See how it proudly scuds with open sails 935
loaded with all the riches of earth, sea and mind;
but all the foaming waves are full of reefs, the pilot drunk,
and God sits in the laden hold and rips the heavy planking!
Then the light sleeper rose and cocked his subtle ears,
for far in the high mountains, in God’s twisting gullet 940
the king groped toward the cavern to regain his youth.
The Serpent Sisters slowly in the waning moon
began to sway with naked feet on the courtyard tiles
that their shrill cries and dancing might sustain their king
who walked the perilous verge now of the Bull-God’s path. 945
They leapt like slender tiger-cubs in the moon’s light,
and their unmounted bodies were coiled tight with power;
looped thrice about their arms, or hissing from their hair,
the sacred snakes of ritual slid in smooth contortions.
Raising their hands toward the high hills, the maidens cried: 950
“O Mother, Mother, mistress of mountains, sea, and air,
whose gorged breasts burst with anguish of redundant milk,
Crete weeps and starves! Come to her shores now, give her suck!
Ah, Mother, may the exhausted earth revive once more
that our great seed may sprout, our trees bear flower and fruit, 955
our headlong herds increase, our green ravines and vales
wabble with newborn lambs of white wool, black, and gray;
and may our ships sail always with fair winds once more
while you, a gorgon at their prow with savage eyes,
cut new roads in the waves for Crete to spread her claws. 960
Strengthen the loins of our pale men, pity our maids
and give them swelling breasts that flow with milk and honey!
Crete calls with all her loam! Dear Mother, fill her womb!
Crete calls with all her horses, Mother, her sheep and ox,
Crete calls with all her men, her women beg and wail, 965
come spread your holy hands above our old king, Mother!”
Thus did the Serpent Sisters cry in whirling dance,
swaying on high their snake-kissed arms in the moon’s light
till the crowd surged and men and maids struck up a dance
then raised their hands on high and shouted toward the hills: 970
“O Mother-Mistress, Huntress, Priestess, Captain, come,
come to this court, come down and take the lead, come kick
this earth and whirl it like a spinning top anew!”
The people shouted till their temples creaked like gates,
their brains spilled from their skulls and boiled like seething must, 975
their minds grew savage as all former boundaries broke,
and when a shadow suddenly leapt on tiles, they gasped—
wild hair, bow stained with blood, shrill twang of speeding arrow!
It leapt high, seized the lead and swirled the dancers round;
the bridegroom lost his bride, the young girl her betrothed, 980
the dancers wept and whined and howled for their return,
but Death, their Leader, raged and threshed them like a whirlpool
till all, with throats caught in the lime-nets of the moon,
burst out in joyous and bold song like nightingales
who vanish, lovesick, carefree, lost in flowering shrubs. 985
But all at once the swift dance broke and all sides scattered;
a vulture’s shrill cry sounded from the palace stairs
and all with terror hid themselves near the squat columns.
The women screamed, and pressed their hands against their ears:
“It’s Phida, shrill-voiced, first-born daughter of our king! 990
God’s heavy hand has felled her once again, she’s moonstruck!”
Leaning against the sacred double-axes by the stairhead,
a young ecstatic girl with red rags round her waist
flung her pale hands on high with rage and beat her breasts:
“Great God, for years I’ve torn my heart out calling you! 995
Rise from the earth, you slayer, gird on your iron armor,
spew fire and burn our ships to coal, scorch Crete to ash!”
She screamed, foamed at the mouth until her pale throat choked,
and then she tumbled headlong down the darkened stairs.
In terror of the moonstruck girl the people fled, 1000
but through the scattering crowd the archer strode and knelt
above the shriveled form convulsed in the sallow moon.
A dread bloodthirsty god sucked at the young girl’s brains
and she like a hooked fish thrashed wildly to cast off
the curved iron hook that jabbed deep in her choking throat. 1005
Then the much-suffering archer gently raised her head
so that she might
not break her skull on the hard stones,
and watched in silent fear the whites of her wild eyes
turned upward, glazed, or rolling round in bloodstained sockets.
But as he reached to wipe the sweat from her damp lobes, 1010
the gates were suddenly flung wide, bald eunuchs dashed,
stooped down, then from the earth scooped up the girl like rags,
and vanished, fleeting down the palace corridors.
Odysseus, deeply wounded, stretched on myrtle boughs
and brooded on the weak and pallid soul of man: 1015
a small sail on a small boat by all four winds thrashed.
He leant his harsh head gently by a column’s base
till the flesh-healing god of sleep leant mutely down
and all night stitched with care the cracked seams of his skull.
Thus did the spacious courtyards shrill in the sick moon, 1020
but pairs of dancers in four rounds rose quickly again
as all strained to enkindle and sustain their king.
Meanwhile, Idomeneus crawled on craggy cliffs
and wanly smiled with hairless lips as his flat pate
shone dimly in the silver moon like a bleached skull. 1025
At length he crawled close to God’s mouth, a deep dark pit,
and stood near, panting, gasping long to get his breath.
A cool wind gently blew, and all the stars marked out
with mystic characters what fate had foreordained.
He cackled dryly with his withered, toothless gums; 1030
“My wretched forebears scanned the stars at night with fear
and yearned for a good sign before they dared to thrust.
their noses in God’s cave to see the Holy Mother;
but now I bring them gold—that is, both sky and stars!”
He spoke, then boldly thrust himself through the low entrance 1035
and squirmed upon the cavern’s glooming slippery stones.
The cavern’s arches spread until God’s monstrous mouth
gaped open slowly, high and wide, and darkly gleamed.
Long rows of hanging stalactites dripped in the gloom
and rose like thick round phalli twined with maidenhair 1040
and red rags tied by women in their votive rites.
The winding pathways broadened in wide whorls and twists
until the thick black gore distilled in murky pits
as the king slipped and slithered in God’s bloody entrails.
Huge startled bats sped by his ears without a sound, 1045
and suddenly torches blazed, shrieks rang, and maidens masked
like cows, bare-bosomed and one-breasted, sprang from clefts,
bellowed with rage and butted their old king to leave.
A woman’s cry in birthpang suddenly split the air
and all the women rushed about a rutting bull 1050
poured of pure bronze that in the savage torchlight flashed;
a tall black double-ax gleamed on its golden horns.
Then slowly from its loins a dragon-woman rose
holding in both her hands her two milk-laden dugs.
The king fell on the earth face down and shouted, “Mother! 1055
Help me, thrice-Mother, who begets gods, men, and beasts!
All think I’m a great monarch, for one night you placed
your hands on my bald pate till God’s soul boiled and rose,
and from your tenfold fingers strength poured through my heart.
That sacred sperm you planted in my split head, Mother, 1060
has sprouted and borne fruit: ships, laws, and famous wars;
but Mother, it’s all withered now and casts no sprouts,
I’ve squandered all that spirit, my loins are drained dry.
Look, I’ve brought back my body. Fill it with God again!’
The Mother-Dragon mutely weighed the old man well 1065
then slowly her loud cavern-roar rang mockingly;
“Old king, I don’t think you can bear the Bull-God now!
If I should place my dreadful hands on you, old man,
you’d burst in fragments like a sheepskin filled with flames.”
She roared, then gave commands for all her maids to leave, 1070
and the young cows scattered in rings and hid in rocks.
No sooner were the two alone than their eyes met
and merged with laughter like two wily beasts in darkness.
Slowly the Mother spread her plump and painted hands
and in one palm the king heaped high thick towering pearls 1075
and in the other poured, with sweet seduction, gold and gems.
When the she-dragon cast these gifts in the Bull’s belly,
she reached out both her hands with ravening greed once more.
“I give you also, unslaked Mother, three large towns:
one in the fields for grain and all your flaxen robes, 1080
one in the harbor to enjoy the sea’s great wealth,’
the third and best is planted on a high plateau
where your bull-calves may browse and your male children breed.”
The Mother laughed, full-satisfied, then crossed her hands,
uttered shrill cries of joy until the young cows dashed 1085
and carried in their hands the sacred, regal dress:
tall peacock feathers, three-peaked golden-lilied crown,
an ivory tray with mystic, thousand-spiraled signs
where in the center God’s great eye turned savagely
as round it hearts and human heads danced arm in arm 1090
in a wide belt adorned with women, beasts, and snakes,
and on the disk’s rim, tall and straight, nine galleys sailed,
all mystic signs that etched upon the precious ivory
the great commands and cares of their most dreaded God.
The cunning king stooped low and then the Mother placed 1095
her hands on his bald shining pate and shrilled aloud:
“I’ve watched and weighed you like a hawk, then swooped and seized you!
I’ll raise my double-ax now high and split your brains!
Descend from horns, O Strength, and make his weak mind firm!
Ascend from the new phallus, Strength, and rouse his loins! 1100
Rise up, O Mystic Snake, and nine times zone him round,
God fills his heart now with nine winter-summer seasons.”
She spoke, then from the cavern mouth a flame leapt out,
tall as two men, and heralded the newborn news.
The flame then leapt with joy on high Mount Dikte’s peaks, 1105
dashed downward like a flashing star to Mount Selena
and rooted in its craggy rocks where round it leapt
goatherds and shepherds in a savage Cretan dance.
High above Knossos the tall peak of Grouhla flamed,
and shepherds beat bronze pans, cast trees into the hearth, 1110
till like an eagle beating, his red blazing wings
the flame leapt on the palace roof, fluttered, and lit
all upper windows swiftly with its burning beak.
Then it fell lightly to the royal courts, sped toward the town,
leapt in and huddled swiftly in the flameless hearths 1115
and hatched a burning coal for egg wherever it stayed.
The king passed through the fields, his nuptial chariot drawn
by four pure snowy bulls with horns of gleaming gold.
The largest stars still wanly burned high in the heavens,
and all the nearby villagers dashed out with palms 1120
and bowed with reverence low before their potent king.
Young women spread the ground with their embroidered dowries,
for the king now so brimmed with God that his new strength
would pass through chariot, bulls, and wheels, spill on the ground,
where scooped by garments, it would pass to hopeful bodies. 1125
Clutching his seed, the king rode all day long in state
while the three comrades sauntered through the lower town.
Taverns at every corner opened, doors were decked,
sills flashed with new-washed garments, and young maidens drenched
with water their slim lilies, basil, and green mint. 1130
They turned their festive faces suddenly toward the East:
was it a golden cloud that rose on mountain passes
or did a thunderbolt split the exhausted fields,
or could it be the king who dashed down from the mountain slopes?
Drums beat at sunset in the spacious palace courtyards; 1135
and all at once the whole town thundered, palm leaves swayed,
and black eyes filled the air to gaze on the healed king,
but he fled down the labyrinthine halls in rage,
for all his hunters had failed to seize his daughter-bride
and had returned with empty hands and empty nets. 1140
In frenzied wrath he ordered the three hunter-chiefs
first slain with double axes and then meshed in nets
which they had long borne on their shoulders all in vain.
All shook to see the godly strength that filled their king,
untamed as yet by mankind’s gentleness and patience. 1145
Odysseus waited for the monarch’s wrath to cool
and then sent word that he’d been waiting by the gate
with world-famed, wondrous-eyebrowed Helen at his side.
For hours they waited by the gate for the king’s word
until the archer’s head boiled like a seething caldron 1150
fed by the bronzesmith’s spiteful words as by hot flame:
“I can’t believe my eyes, nor get it through my head
that the great archer stands and begs at the king’s door!”
But though the rash man’s blood now boiled, he bit his fist:
“O heart, keep vengeance deep, caress her secretly, 1155
for there’s no bride with greater dowry in all this world;
she carries ashes in her chests, blood in her jugs;
and brings a long black-hilted sword as the groom’s gift!” 1158
A warm and heavy South Wind rose, the far sea’s rippled,
and like white, silent, sailing ghosts, with shrouds for sail, 1160
fishing-boats, triremes, galleys, slowly, slowly sailed
into the ponderous azure dreams of slumbering Crete.
Crete slept on like a silent sea-beast that once rose
from time’s deep pitch-black mire to get a little air;