To The Private Secretary Of The Most Honorable Dionysos, Son of Zeus, In Thebes

[Aimee Farr]

> -----Original Message-----
> From: Aimee Farr [mailto:aimee.farr at pobox.com]
> Sent: Monday, March 05, 2001 5:35 PM
> To: cypherunks at lne.com
> Subject: To The Private Secretary Of The Most Honorable Dionysos, Son of
> Zeus, In Thebes
> 
> 
> To The Most Honorable Dionysos, Son Of Zeus, In Thebes:
> 
> And so hail to you, Dionysus, god of abundant clusters! He who 
> produces the rich-clustering vine for mortals. You, Eubolius, so 
> very enlightened. Lo! I am that Persephone, that Kore, that 
> trim-ankled Maiden. A lowly Thesmophoria mystes, no sweet 
> synthema springs forth from me. But if you will be moved by me -- 
> for you, lord, are stronger and mightier than I, and your strength is
> very great.
> 
> Truly, I say to you, the Ivy-crown'd: "An Aeschylos Be Thee!" You 
> innocent devourer of flesh so raw! Thou not fear Tyrrhenian 
> pirates? Lo! The loud-crying god Thou Art! In Thine Own word: 
> "They can not be told to mortals uninitiated in Bacchic revelry." 
> Pentheus was rightful in his words to Thee: "How bold the 
> Bacchant is, and not unpracticed in speaking! This stranger with 
> whom I am locked together is impossible, and neither suffering 
> nor doing will he be quiet."
> 
> Be favourable, O Insewn, Inspirer of frenzied women! We singers 
> sing of you as we begin and as we end a strain, and none 
> forgetting you may call holy song to mind. Listen, blessed one, 
> to my voice, and breathe On me with a heart blameless and kind. 
> 
> But I tell you truly and shortly all I know. And so I wandered 
> and am come here: and I know not at all what land this is or what 
> people are in it. Why do you seek to frighten me like a feeble 
> child whose heart knows few words of blame, a fearful babe? Why 
> do you seek to compare this nimble Nymph to couches and dusty 
> things? Better to live in fellowship with the
> deathless gods continually, rich, wealthy, and enjoying stories 
> of grain, than to sit always in a gloomy cave. I was born 
> yesterday, and my feet are soft. If you will have it so, I will 
> swear a great oath by my father's head and vow that neither am I 
> guilty myself, neither have I seen any other who stole your cows 
> -- whatever cows may be; for I know them only by hearsay.' 
> 
> But whoso shall trust to idly-chattering birds and shall seek to 
> invoke my prophetic art contrary to my will, I declare that he 
> shall come on an idle journey; yet his gifts I would take. But if 
> you tell all and foolishly boast that you lay with rich-crowned 
> Aphrodite, Zeus will smite you in his anger with a smoking 
> thunderbolt. Now I have told you all. Take heed: refrain and name 
> me not, but have regard to the anger of the gods.' Hail, child of 
> fair-faced Semele! He who is no lover of Milton. 
> 
> She who forgets you can in no wise order sweet song.