I found this marvellous book during a thorough inspection of the shelves in the Abbey Bookshop, Paris. My copy appears much more weathered and ancient than this version. How I love how the Greeks are enthralled by height, in all senses of the word. Somehow, there is a wish… not to touch the oak’s highest leaf…but to hover above, to move out of the tangible into the transparent. All is fleeting, all is on the brink of something. Pallas shall look into Argos for the last time. These words pour into my brain like oil in a heated skillet. I truly just feel that Callimachus must have been writing with a silver pen for he could not get any closer to streaming out the truth of the human experience. Gold was as holy as light, ‘Artemis, Lady of Maidenhood, Slayer of Tityus, golden were thine arms and golden thy belt, and a golden car didst thou yoke, and golden bridles, goddess, didst thou put on thy deer.’
Furthermore, the idea of eternity, of timeless duration, grounds his work; I especially like the comment about Zeus not requiring the designated tomb constructed by the Cretans, since ‘thou didst not die, for thou art for ever’.
‘Hie, hie, Carneius! Lord of many prayers,—thine altars wear flowers in spring, even all the pied flowers which the Hours lead forth when Zephyrus breathes dew, and in winter the sweet crocus. Undying evermore is thy fire, nor ever doth the ash feed about the coals of yester-even.’
Aratus didn’t particularly interest me, as the descriptions of the zodiacs in his Phaenomena were not humanistically oriented. Celestial passages don’t prompt emotive reactions in me. Lycophron’s Alexandra, though, is teeming with imposing imagery and esoteric names and whatnot, so there is nothing to dislike in my eyes.