We are searching data for your request:
Upon completion, a link will appear to access the found materials.
What Kind of Food Did the Ancient Babylonians Eat?
Ancient Babylonian cuisine was rich and varied, including meat from cows, sheep, goats, pig, deer and fowl, as well as eggs, fish, shellfish and even turtles. Stews were common, with Akkadian records providing 21 different meat stew recipes and four different vegetable stew recipes.
Among the vegetables eaten by the ancient Babylonians were beets, peas, arugula, lettuce, turnips, legumes (such as chickpeas) and mushrooms. They were especially fond of using onions in their cooking, along with all of its related plants, such as garlic, scallions and leeks. Grains were also common, including pearl barley and oats.
Fruits enjoyed by the ancient Babylonians included apples, figs and pomegranates.
The ancient Babylonians were particularly interested in flavoring their food and used a range of herbs and spices. These included mint, coriander and chives, among others. Condiments, such as a pickled fish sauce (siqqu), were also used, while honey, dates, grape juice and raisins were favored for sweetening dishes.
For cooking, a variety of oils and fats were used, such as clarified butter and animal fat, as well as sesame, linseed and olive oils.
The presentation of food was important to the ancient Babylonians, who used a selection of fresh greens, chicken gizzards, pastry crusts and even bird feathers to garnish their meals.
Served sizzling on a hot stone plate, sisig is a favorite pulutan (beer chow) among Filipinos. The meat is primarily chopped up parts of the pigs’ face — in the Philippines, no cut of the animal goes to waste. Some recipes use either mayonnaise or raw egg (to be mixed in while hot) to give it a creamier texture but the classic way is to incorporate pig’s brain into the dish.
Who Is God? Esoteric Metaphysical Version of God
Esoteric means inner and hidden and where most religions are in contradiction of each other, the opposite is true.
Who Is God? The Corpus Hermeticum
This ancient text came from the Hellenistic time of the ancient Greeks.
The ancient corpus has a very anthropomorphic Abrahamic element to it.
When you read it you can get a sense of the a masculine father God.
Now were it manifest, it would not be. For all that is made manifest is subject to becoming, for it hath been made manifest. But the Unmanifest for ever is, for It doth not desire to be made manifest. It ever is, and maketh manifest all other things.
Being Himself unmanifest, as ever being and ever making-manifest, Himself is not made manifest. God is not made Himself by thinking-manifest, He thinketh all things manifest.
For that the subtler part of matter is the air, of air the soul, of soul the mind, and of mind God.
The Corpus Hermeticum is the oldest hermetic text on the nature of God.
A: What say’st thou ever, then, God is?
H: God, therefore, is not Mind, but Cause that the Mind is God is not Spirit, but Cause that Spirit is God is not Light, but Cause that the Light is.
The Kybalion: God’s Blueprints Of The Hermetic Philosophy
William Walker Atkinson (Three Initiates) wrote the Kybalion in 1912.
The sequel of the hermetic texts, but in a more detailed manner and not a creation story.
The Kybalion refers God to the “All” in this case because it means what it says.
It’s the “All” to everything and anything that exists.
I think of it like the All-father of Norse mythology.
In these lessons we have followed the example of some of the world’s greatest thinkers, both ancient and modern–the Hermetic. Masters–and have called this Underlying Power–this Substantial Reality–by the Hermetic name of “THE ALL,” which term we consider the most comprehensive of the many terms applied by Man to THAT which transcends names and terms. – Kybalion
Metaphysical Who Is God? Shamanic Versions Of God The Eagle
The ancient shamans were seers that were profound men knowledge of the metaphysical world.
They literally saw the energy fibers of the everyday world emanating from the “Eagle”, as they call it.
The Indescribable Force bestows awareness by means of three giant bundles of emanations that run through eight great bands. These bundles are quite peculiar, because they make seers feel a hue. –Don Juan Matus
The eagles emanations give off to every sentient being.
They’re luminous fibers that extend into infinity.
The shamans refer to the them as threads or strings of energy and so do the quantum physicists.
To say that the Indescribable Force bestows awareness through its emanations is like what a religious man would say about God, that God bestows life through love. However, the two statements are not made from the same point of view. And yet I think they mean the same thing. The difference is that seers see how the Indescribable Force bestows awareness through its emanations and religious men don’t see how God bestows life through his love. – Don Juan Matus
Quantum Physicist Version Of God (The Same As The Shamanic?)
How is it that a shaman came to the same conclusion as a modern physicist!
String theory states higher dimensional loops of energy create the foundations of our atomic reality .
“String theory is an attempt at a deeper description of nature by thinking of an elementary particle not as a little point but as a little loop of vibrating string.” ― Edward Witten
Strings, lines whatever you want to call them give “shape” to ALL things.
Think of them as strings of a guitar with each one a frequency of reality.
The piano is the scale of reality which harbors different dimensional frequencies.
An octave contains 7 major keys and 5 minor creating a 12 key octave.
Strings can interact by splitting and rejoining, thus creating the interactions we see among electrons and protons in atoms. In this way, through string theory, we can reproduce all the laws of atomic and nuclear physics. The “melodies” that can be written on strings correspond to the laws of chemistry. The universe can now be viewed as a vast symphony of strings.” -Michio Kaku
Orpheus Lamenting Eurydice , c. 1861–65
The celebrated landscape painter Corot was among the leading members of the so-called Barbizon school, which was committed to working directly from nature. But he was active at the same time as a painter of dreamlike fantasy landscapes. He undertook several works in response to a production of Gluck’s celebrated opera Orfeo, based on the classical myth of Orpheus—the musician who enchants all his listeners, even animals. The largest of Corot’s Orpheus paintings, exhibited at the Salon of 1861, is today in the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston. The smaller Kimbell painting depicts the beginning of the first act of the opera. Orpheus’s beautiful bride, Eurydice, has just died from the bite of a serpent. In mourning, he plays his lyre to three female companions. He is dressed in ancient fashion, whereas the companions appear more contemporary, dressed in Italian folk costumes.
Alfred Sensier [1815-1877], Paris.
purchased by William H. Vanderbilt [1821-1885], New York, probably in the 1880s
by inheritance to George Washington Vanderbilt [1862-1914] after December 1885
on loan from G. W. Vanderbilt to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, from c. 1902 to possibly 1920
by inheritance c. 1914 to Brig. Gen. Cornelius (“Neily”) Vanderbilt III [1873-1942]
by descent in 1942 to Mrs. Cornelius Vanderbilt III (Grace Graham Wilson) [1873-1953], New York, until 1945
The Perspective, Piero della Francesca and Leonardo da Vinci
The great innovation of the XV century is the discovery of the perspective. Thanks to the works of Brunelleschi and Leon Battista Alberti, the artists can know and experience the rules and the techniques which allow a more exact representation of the landscape. Piero della Francesca (1416 – 1492) was a mathematician as well as a painter. He sets his paintings with a geometrical order and uses rigorously the rules that he has later codified in his book De Prospectiva Pingendi. Piero adopts the perspective to represent the endless landscapes that are on the background of the Double Portrait of the Dukes of Urbino. In the landscape on the background of the Baptism of Christ, the details are rendered with a high precision. The row of trees which begins in the very foreground gives an exact idea of the distance and the proportions between the persons and the objects. The colour of the sky vanishes near the horizon to suggest the distance and the depth.
Leonardo theorizes the rial perspective” in his writings. He observes that farther away objects appear to vanish to the human eye by the effect of the atmosphere. He uses this technique, the famous “sfumato”, in an early work such as the Annunciation, to render the distance of the mountains in the background. We find the same technique in the very much debated landscape behind Mona Lisa.
Piero della Francesca, Baptism of Christ (1450-1460) London National Gallery
Adalu is a combination of beans and corn, cooked together with various seasonings and spices. Most Nigerians ate lots of this delicious meal while growing up, and they have deep love for it.
If you are a foodie and wish to have a food tour in Nigeria, why not contact us on +234-700-868-7476 or [email protected] or search for a rock-bottom price travel deals here
What do you think of our list? Perhaps you know many more dishes that you think should be on the list? Drop your comment below and let us know about it. You can also send in your travel stories to [email protected] . Follow us on twitter, facebook and instagram
*This article is adapted from http://www.hfmagazineonline. com/nigerian-food-a-quick- taste-of-20-popular-naija- foods/
Chinenye Emezie-Egwuonwu is an author and essayist. She enjoys reading, baking, and wouldn’t mind spending her day buried in the pages of decor magazines! She was a sub-editor at Afro Tourism.
Scandinavians’ Strange Holiday Lutefisk Tradition
Although the doors don’t open until 11 a.m., the parking lot is already filling up on a Friday morning at Lakeview Lutheran Church in Madison, Wisconsin. Inside, volunteers busily set tables, stir boiling pots and dish out plates of food they’ve been planning and preparing for weeks. Outside, pink-cheeked diners decked in Nordic sweaters head up the steps, eager for their annual taste of lye-soaked cod drenched in melted butter.
“I like lutefisk! It tastes good to me,” says Nelson Walstead with a laugh. Walstead, a Norwegian-American, is the chief organizer of Lakeview Lutheran’s annual lutefisk dinner. “It makes me feel good to know we are keeping the tradition alive, and that we’re passing this on to the next generation,” he says.
It seems only natural that the descendants of the Vikings, perhaps history’s greatest tough guys, would celebrate a food prepared with a caustic and highly dangerous substance. Lutefisk—codfish (fisk) preserved in lye (lut)—is both a delicacy and a tradition among Scandinavian-Americans, who serve the chemical-soaked, gelatinous fish with a warm and friendly smile. Lutefisk, or lutfisk in Swedish, is a traditional dish in Norway, Sweden, and parts of Finland.
But today, Scandinavians rarely eat lutefisk. Far more lutefisk is consumed in the United States, much of it in church and lodge basements. In fact, the self-proclaimed “lutefisk capital of the world” isn’t in Norway but in Madison, Minnesota, where a fiberglass codfish named “Lou T. Fisk” welcomes visitors to this lye-fish loving town. The lutefisk dinner is an annual fall and winter tradition at scores of Lutheran churches and Nordic fraternal groups throughout the Upper Midwest and Pacific Northwest or anywhere with a large Scandinavian-American population. Strangely, these children of immigrants celebrate a tradition that connects them to their ancestral home, even as many Scandinavians have moved on.
“These dinners represent important traditions in both families and communities, and for some, they are a valued connection to culture and heritage,” says Carrie Roy, a Scandinavian cultural scholar and creator of the film Where the Sacred Meets the Quivering Profane: Exploring the Public and Private Spheres of Lutefisk “While the food tradition certainly originated in Scandinavia, the immigrant communities—especially their churches and cultural heritage lodges—have played a major role in developing the phenomenon of lutefisk dinners.”
Lutefisk starts as cod, traditionally caught in the cold waters off Norway. It’s then dried to the point that it attains the feel of leather and the firmness of corrugated cardboard. Water alone can’t reconstitute the fish, so it’s soaked in lye. Yes, lye, the industrial chemical used to unclog drains and dispose of murder victims, the one that explodes when it comes in contact with aluminum. Incidentally, it’s the same chemical that gives pretzels that deep, shiny brown, cures fresh olives for eating, and what makes bagels gleam these foods just don’t advertise this fact like lutefisk does. The fish is then repeatedly rinsed before being shipped off for cooking and eating. But it’s still so close to toxic that the state of Wisconsin specifically exempts lutefisk from classification as a toxic substance in Section 101.58 (2)(j)(f) of its laws regulating workplace safety.
A strong fishy odor wafts through the stairwell at Lakeview Lutheran as diners dig into steaming platters of lutefisk served family style. Melted butter sits in ceramic pitchers for easy pouring, though other dinners feature a mustard or cream sauce. The fish itself is flaky and a slightly translucent white in color. While still firm in places, the fish tends to be slippery and a little squishy, and the whole platter quivers a bit as it makes its way down the table.
The rest of the meal is a fairly standard slate of starchy seasonal fare: mashed potatoes with gravy, creamy coleslaw, cranberries, green beans and a big bowl of mashed rutabagas that are nearly indistinguishable at quick glance from the mashed potatoes. A pile of rolled lefse, the Scandinavian potato flatbread similar in appearance to a flour tortilla, sits in the center of the table beside sticks of butter and bowls of brown sugar, lefse’s usual dressing.
Lutefisk is a polarizing dish, even among those at the dinners.
“I won’t touch the stuff. My wife was the Norwegian one,” says Ed, who has come to Lakeview’s dinner for a decade or more. “I like to come, though. And I really like the lefse!”
In the wrong hands, lutefisk can turn into slimy glop. For the haters, there’s always meatballs, a hand-rolled peace offering for mixed marriages of Scandinavians to spouses of different ethnic heritages, and for those with Scandinavian blood who object to lutefisk’s texture and intense odor.
The plaintive question frequently asked of lutefisk lovers: “If it’s so good, why don’t you eat it more than once a year?”
“Lutefisk is the substance you love to hate,” writes Roy. “It’s a rich substance for jokes, and for these reasons, it holds an interesting spectrum of appeal that varies from the cherished to reviled.”
Today, Scandinavians rarely eat lutefisk. Far more lutefisk is consumed in the United States, much of it in church and lodge basements. (Courtesy of Kyle Nabilcy / Flickr) Lutefisk is both a delicacy and a tradition among Scandinavian-Americans. (Courtesy of Kyle Nabilcy / Flickr) When lutefisk is on the menu, the parking lot fills up early at Lakeview Lutheran Church in Madison, Wisconsin. (Courtesy of Kyle Nabilcy / Flickr)
That notorious smell has improved in recent years, however. Modern processing methods, including enclosed commercial kiln dryers and the refinement of lye, make for better smelling—or at least less smelly—fish. The lye does leave a distinct ashy taste that butter helps mask. Still, few people make lutefisk from scratch at home anymore, preferring instead to purchase it vacuum-packed from the store. Those searching for the smelly scent memory of old, however, can still find it at Ingrebretson’s Scandinavian Foods, a Minneapolis institution that hosts an annual lutefisk tasting, where shoppers can buy dried fish to soak themselves. There aren’t too many takers.
No one is quite sure where and when lutefisk originated. Both Swedes and Norwegians claim it was invented in their country. A common legend has it that Viking fishermen hung their cod to dry on tall birch racks. When some neighboring Vikings attacked, they burned the racks of fish, but a rainstorm blew in from the North Sea, dousing the fire. The remaining fish soaked in a puddle of rainwater and birch ash for months before some hungry Vikings discovered the cod, reconstituted it and had a feast. Another story tells of St. Patrick’s attempt to poison Viking raiders in Ireland with the lye-soaked fish. But rather than kill them, the Vikings relished the fish and declared it a delicacy. It makes for a great story if you don’t mind the fact that Patrick lived centuries before the Vikings attacked Ireland.
Whatever its origins, Scandinavians have eaten lutefisk for centuries. Preserved cod provided protein during the long winter months for generations of families in a part of the world with a strong tradition of fishing. Lye was used for making soap and preserving food. It was easily prepared in the kitchen by boiling wood ash from beech or birch in water and straining the result. Lutefisk first appeared in Norwegian literature in 1555 in the writings of Olaus Magnus, who describes its preparation and proper serving method: lots of butter.
Despite its long history in Scandinavia, though, lutefisk has fallen out of favor now that few people need to preserve food to last all winter. In fact, the Norwegian national dish isn’t lutefisk or even fishbased it’s farikal, a lamb and cabbage casserole.
“You see some lutefisk in Norway but you’ll find many people who’ve never had it. There’s just not the lutefisk culture in Scandinavia that exists here,” says Eric Dregni, a Minnesotan who spent a year in Norway and wrote the book In Cod We Trust: Living the Norwegian Dream about his experiences. “It’s the immigrants that have kept this going and turned it into a community event.”
Andrine Wefring at the Culinary Academy of Norway in Oslo agrees. “People still eat it, usually at Christmas, and you can find it in some restaurants in the winter. But church dinners? No, that doesn’t happen here,” she says.
Poverty and the collapse of traditional farming practices led more than 950,000 Norwegians to leave their homes for America in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Only Ireland experienced a greater exodus relative to the size of its population. Lutefisk, the food of poor Scandinavians, came to the United States with its immigrants. Today, there are nearly as many Americans with primarily Norwegian heritage as there are citizens of Norway, about 4.5 million people. And many of the immigrant descendants crave some connection to their Nordic past, even one that jiggles and seems to repel more than it appeals.
“It’s a symbol of solidarity,” says Hasia Diner, a professor of immigration history at New York University. “Foods like lutefisk could have been markers of poverty in the past, but by eating them in the more prosperous present, they serve to remind consumers where they came from and how far they have come.”
Professor Diner notes that it’s common for subsequent American-born generations to find these immigrant foods offensive. “Some individuals may find them disgusting, but they still offer markers of past authenticity,” she says.
So perhaps the nauseating aspects of lutefisk are also part of its appeal to Scandinavian-Americans: Eating dried cod cured in lye feels counterintuitive enough to forge a real connection to the practices of their ancestors.
Volunteers at Lakeview Lutheran cooked up 1,000 pounds of lutefisk for the November 4 dinner. They also rolled and grilled 235 dozen sheets of lefse, a labor-intensive process that began in the church kitchens in September. The lutefisk dinner, now in its 60th year, attracts nearly 1000 people to the table. Proceeds support the church’s outreach and mission work.
“It’s a ton of work to pull this off every year,” says Dean Kirst, pastor of Lakeview Lutheran. “But it helps us remember there was a time when our European ancestors struggled and suffered a lot even if we’re in more prosperous times now.”
It’s not all Scandinavians at the dinners. Pastor Kirst runs to the fridge to get a bottle of soy sauce for a Chinese-American woman who prefers her lutefisk with an Asian flair.
Even in the United States, the future of these dinners is uncertain. As the immigrant generation grows more remote from its roots, lutefisk consumption has declined. Those who love it tend to be those who grew up eating it, which is happening less and less. To tap younger eaters at home and abroad, in 2001 the Norwegian Fish Information Board launched a promotion to brand lutefisk as an aphrodisiac using a slogan that roughly translates as “Lutefisk lovers love more.” Olsen Foods in Minneapolis also markets a lutefisk TV dinner for the busy working family.
Pastor Kirst has seen a decline in attendance at his church’s lutefisk dinner. “People just don’t have the time they used to to devote to pulling off the dinner, and our membership is changing,” he says.
But among the traditional, lutefisk remains a cherished part of the holiday season. Many will travel from church to church throughout the fall and winter to get their fill of lutefisk, history and good Scandinavian cheer.
“It’s the combination of good food—we make good fish here—and tradition,” says Walstead. “I hope it never stops.”
Pliny the Elder, The Natural History John Bostock, M.D., F.R.S., H.T. Riley, Esq., B.A., Ed.
Hide browse bar Your current position in the text is marked in blue. Click anywhere in the line to jump to another position:
This text is part of:
Search the Perseus Catalog for:
View text chunked by:
Table of Contents:
CHAP. 2.—WHEN AND WHERE THE ART OF MAGIC ORIGINATED: BY WHAT PERSONS IT WAS FIRST PRACTISED.
For how few there are, in fact, who know anything, even by hearsay, about the only professors of this art whose names have come down to us, Apusorus 6 and Zaratus of Media, Marmarus and Arabantiphocus of Babylonia, and Tarmoendas of Assyria, men who have left not the slightest memorials of their existence. But the most surprising thing of all is, that Homer should be totally silent upon this art in his account 7 of the Trojan War, while in his story of the wanderings of Ulysses, so much of the work should be taken up with it, that we may justly conclude that the poem is based upon nothing else if, indeed, we are willing to grant that his accounts of Proteus and of the songs of the Sirens are to be understood in this sense, and that the stories of Circe and of the summoning up of the shades below, 8 bear reference solely to the practices of sorcerers. And then, too, to come to more recent times, no one has told us how the art of sorcery reached Telmessus, 9 a city devoted to all the services of religion, or at what period it came over and reached the matrons of Thessaly whose name 10 has long passed, in our part of the world, as the appellation of those who practise an art, originally introduced among themselves even, from foreign lands. 11 For in the days of the Trojan War, Thessaly was still contented with such remedies 12 as she owed to the skill of Chiron, and her only 13 lightnings were the lightnings hurled by Mars. 14 Indeed, for my own part, I am surprised that the imputation of magical practices should have so strongly attached to the people once under the sway of Achilles, that Menander even, a man unrivalled for perception in literary knowledge, has entitled one of his Comedies "The Thessalian Matron," and has therein described the devices practised by the females of that country in bringing down the moon from the heavens. 15 I should have been inclined to think that Orpheus had been the first to introduce into a country so near his own, certain magical superstitions based upon the practice of medicine, were it not the fact that Thrace, his native land, was at that time totally a stranger to the magic art.
The first person, so far as I can ascertain, who wrote upon magic, and whose works are still in existence, was Osthanes, 16 who accompanied Xerxes, the Persian king, in his expedition against Greece. It was he who first 17 disseminated, as it were, the germs of this monstrous art, and tainted therewith all parts of the world through which the Persians passed. Authors who have made diligent enquiries into this subject, make mention of a second Zoroaster, a native of Proconnesus, as living a little before the time of Osthanes. That it was this same 'Osthanes, more particularly, that inspired the Greeks, not with a fondness only, but a rage, for the art of magic, is a fact beyond all doubt: though at the same time I would remark, that in the most ancient times, and indeed almost invariably, it was in this 18 branch of science, that was sought the highest point of celebrity and of literary renown. At all events, Pythagoras, we find, Empedocles, Democritus, and Plato, crossed the seas, in order to attain a knowledge thereof, submitting, to speak the truth, more to the evils of exile 19 than to the mere inconveniences of travel. Returning home, it was upon the praises of this art that they expatiated—it was this that they held as one of their grandest mysteries. It was Democritus, too, who first drew attention to Apollobeches 20 of Coptos, to Dardanus, 21 and to Phœnix: the works of Dardanus he sought in the tomb of that personage, and his own were composed in accordance with the doctrines there found. That these doctrines should have been received by any portion of mankind, and transmitted to us by the aid of memory, is to me surprising beyond anything I can conceive. 22 All the particulars there found are so utterly incredible, so utterly re- volting, that those even who admire Democritus in other respects, are strong in their denial that these works were really written by him. Their denial, however, is in vain for it was he, beyond all doubt, who had the greatest share in fascinating men's minds with these attractive chimeras.
There is also a marvellous coincidence, in the fact that the two arts—medicine, I mean, and magic—were developed simultaneously: medicine by the writings of Hippocrates, and magic by the works of Democritus, about the period of tile Peloponnesian War, which was waged in Greece in the year of the City of Rome 300.
There is another sect, also, of adepts in the magic art, who derive their origin from Moses, 23 Jannes, 24 and Lotapea, 25 Jews by birth, 26 but many thousand years posterior to Zoroaster: and as much more recent, again, is the branch of magic cultivated in Cyprus. 27 In the time, too, of Alexander the Great, this profession received no small accession to its credit from the influence of a second Osthanes, who had the honour of accompanying that prince in his expeditions, and who, evidently, beyond all doubt, travelled 28 over every part of the world.
1 Or Bactriana, more properly.
2 Magic, no doubt, has been the subject of belief from the earliest times, whatever may have been the age of Zoroaster, the Zaratbustra of the Zend- avesta, and the Zerdusht of the Persians. In the Zendavesta he is represented as living in the reign of Gushtasp, generally identified with Darius Hystaspes. He probably lived at a period anterior to that of the Median and Persian kings. Niebuhr regards him as a purely mythical personage
5 An exaggeration, of Oriental origin, most probably.
6 These names have all, most probably, been transmitted to us in a corrupted form. Ajasson gives some suggestions as to their probable Eastern form and origin.
7 One among the many proofs, Ajasson says, that the Iliad and the Odyssey belong to totally different periods.
8 In reference to the Tenth Book of the Odyssey.
9 See B. v. cc. 28, 29. Cicero mentions a college of Aruspices established at this city.
10 The name "Thessala" was commonly used by the Romans to signify an enchantress, sorceress, or witch. See the story of Apuleius, Books i. and iii.
11 The countries of the East.
12 Purely medicinal remedies.
13 In contradistinction to lightnings elicited by the practice of Magic.
14 A poetical figure, alluding to the "thunderbolts of war," as wielded probably by Achilles and other heroes of Thessaly.
16 Ajasson queries whether this is a proper name, or an epithet merely.
17 Ajasson combats this assertion at considerable length, and with good reason. It is quite inadmissible.
18 The mysteries of philosophy, as Ajasson remarks, were not necessarily identical with the magic art.
19 In reality, Pythagoras was an exile from the tyranny of the ruler of Samos, Plato from the court of Dionysius the Younger, and Democritus from the ignorance of his fellow-countrymen of Abdera. There is no doubt that Pythagoras and Democritus made considerable researches into the art of magic as practised in the East.
20 Nothing is known of this writer.
21 Dardanus, the ancestor of the Trojans, if he is the person here meant, is said to have introduced the worship of the gods into Samothrace.
22 The works of Homer were transmitted in a similar manner.
23 Moses, no doubt, was represented by the Egyptian priesthood as a magician, in reference more particularly to the miracles wrought by him before Pharaoh. From them the Greeks would receive the notion.
24 In 2 Tim. iii. 8, we find the words, "Now as Jannes and Jambres withstood Moses, so do these also resist the truth." Eusebius, in his Prœ paratio Evangeliea, B. ix., states that Jannes and Jambres, or Mambres, were the names of Egyptian writers, who practised Magic, and opposed Moses before Pharaoh. This contest was probably represented by the Egyptian priesthood as merely a dispute between two antagonistic schools of Magic.
25 Of this person nothing is known. The former editions mostly have "Jotapea." "Jotapata" was the name of a town in Syria, the birthplace of Josephus.
26 He is mistaken here as to the nation to which Jannes belonged.
27 By some it has been supposed that this bears reference to Christianity, as introduced into Cyprus by the Apostle Barnabas Owing to the miracles wrought in the infancy of the Church, the religion of the Christians was very generally looked upon as a sort of Magic. The point is very doubtful.
28 His itinerary, Ajasson remarks, would have been a great curiosity.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License.
An XML version of this text is available for download, with the additional restriction that you offer Perseus any modifications you make. Perseus provides credit for all accepted changes, storing new additions in a versioning system.
Dish with Orpheus among the animals - History
That was the deep uncanny mine of souls.
Like veins of silver ore, they silently
moved through its massive darkness. Blood welled up
among the roots, on its way to the world of men,
and in the dark it looked as hard as stone.
Nothing else was red.
There were cliffs there,
and forests made of mist. There were bridges
spanning the void, and that great gray blind lake
which hung above its distant bottom
like the sky on a rainy day above a landscape.
And through the gentle, unresisting meadows
one pale path unrolled like a strip of cotton.
Down this path they were coming.
In front, the slender man in the blue cloak —
mute, impatient, looking straight ahead.
In large, greedy, unchewed bites his walk
devoured the path his hands hung at his sides,
tight and heavy, out of the failing folds,
no longer conscious of the delicate lyre
which had grown into his left arm, like a slip
of roses grafted onto an olive tree.
His senses felt as though they were split in two:
his sight would race ahead of him like a dog,
stop, come back, then rushing off again
would stand, impatient, at the path’s next turn, —
but his hearing, like an odor, stayed behind.
Sometimes it seemed to him as though it reached
back to the footsteps of those other two
who were to follow him, up the long path home.
But then, once more, it was just his own steps’ echo,
or the wind inside his cloak, that made the sound.
He said.to himself, they had to be behind him
said it aloud and heard it fade away.
They had to be behind him, but their steps
were ominously soft. If only he could
turn around, just once (but looking back
would ruin this entire work, so near
completion), then he could not fail to see them,
those other two, who followed him so softly:
The god of speed and distant messages,
a traveler’s hood above his shining eyes,
his slender staff held out in front of him,
and little wings fluttering at his ankles
and on his left arm, barely touching it: she.
A woman so loved that from one lyre there came
more lament than from all lamenting women
that a whole world of lament arose, in which
all nature reappeared: forest and valley,
road and village, field and stream and animal
and that around this lament-world, even as
around the other earth, a sun revolved
and a silent star-filled heaven, a lament-
heaven, with its own, disfigured stars —:
So greatly was she loved.
But now she walked beside the graceful god,
her steps constricted by the trailing graveclothes,
uncertain, gentle, and without impatience.
She was deep within herself, like a woman heavy
with child, and did not see the man in front
or the path ascending steeply into life.
Deep within herself. Being dead
filled her beyond fulfillment. Like a fruit
suffused with its own mystery and sweetness,
she was filled with her vast death, which was so new,
she could not understand that it had happened.
She had come into a new virginity
and was untouchable her sex had closed
like a young flower at nightfall, and her hands
had grown so unused to marriage that the god’s
infinitely gentle touch of guidance
hurt her, like an undesired kiss.
She was no longer that woman with blue eyes
who once had echoed through the poet’s songs,
no longer the wide couch’s scent and island,
and that man’s property no longer.
She was already loosened like long hair,
poured out like fallen rain,
shared like a limitless supply.
And when, abruptly,
the god put out his hand to stop her, saying,
with sorrow in his voice: He has turned around —,
she could not understand, and softly answered
dark before the shining exit-gates,
someone or other stood, whose features were
unrecognizable. He stood and saw
how, on the strip of road among the meadows,
with a mournful look, the god of messages
silently turned to follow the small figure
already walking back along the path,
her steps constricted by the trailing graveclothes,
uncertain, gentle, and without impatience.