The Orphic Hymns

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  3 boundaries of the earth: See OH 11.15. Hephaistos makes Okeanos the outer rim on the shields of Akhilleus (Iliad 18.607–608) and of Herakles (Hesiod Shield 314–315). It is not, however, the absolute limits of the world, at least not the world of the living. Odysseus must cross Okeanos to reach Hades (Odyssey 10.508–512), and Hesiod places a number of monsters beyond its stream such as the Hesperides, the Gorgons, and Geryon (Theogony 215, 274–275, 289–292). All of these creatures are thus death figures. The Isles of the Blest are located near Okeanos (Hesiod Works and Days 171; cf. Odyssey 4.561–569). Okeanos’ association with death is strengthened by the fact that the river Styx is his eldest daughter (see OH 69.4n). It might be that the placement of this hymn, coming near the end of the collection and shortly before the hymn to Death, is supposed to symbolize the crossing of Okeanos for the initiate (cf. OH 87.12n). The stars are sometimes described as rising from and setting into Okeanos.

  4–5: Okeanos is naturally seen as the source of all other watery bodies (see also Iliad 21.195–197; line 196 is exactly the same as line 4 in this hymn). This is expressed genealogically by Hesiod, who reports that Okeanos and Tethys are the parents of three thousand daughters and an equal number of (male) rivers (Theogony 363–368). However, Hesiod does not make him the father of the salty seas, as there are older water deities for this poet to represent them (e.g., Pontos).

  8: Okeanos appears as a laid–back individual in myth. He does not fight with Kronos against their father Sky (Orphic fragment 186) nor does he battle against Zeus in the Titanomachy (Hesiod Theogony 398; compare the role of his daughter Styx at 389–403). According to Homer, he and his wife protect Hera during this war (Iliad 14.200–204, and cf. Thetis and Eurynome, an Okeanid, taking in Hephaistos after he had been thrown out of Olympos by Hera at Iliad 18.394–405 and also Thetis succoring Dionysos in his flight from Lykourgos at Iliad 6.135–137). In the Prometheus Bound, Aeschylus portrays Okeanos as sympathetic to the plight of the rebel Prometheus, although unwilling to challenge Zeus.

  84. To Hestia

  Hestia, meaning “hearth,” is, unsurprisingly, the goddess of the hearth. Despite being a full-blooded Olympian divinity, she never really becomes fully anthropomorphized. Consequently, she rarely makes an appearance in literature and art. Homer does not mention her at all. She was the first child born to Kronos and Rhea, and, because she was the oldest, she was the first to be swallowed by Kronos and the last to be disgorged (Hesiod Theogony 454, 497). While Orphism seems to have had a similar genealogy (see Orphic fragment 202), the author of the Derveni papyrus appears to cite from a poem where Orpheus equated her with Demeter, Deio, Rhea, Earth, and Mother (see OH 14i). The hymn to the Mother of the Gods in our collection says that this goddess is also known as Hestia (OH 27.9+n). There are two short Homeric hymns to her (nos. 24 and 29) that briefly touch on her capacity as household goddess (the latter hymn also invokes Hermes in this role), and they seem to have been composed for the occasion of the consecration of a new house. She also makes an appearance in the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite where she spurns the courting of Poseidon and Apollon; she swears that she will remain a virgin, and in place of marriage she receives the honor of being the goddess of homes, including temples (5.21–32). This turned out to be quite an honor indeed. As goddess of every private domicile’s hearth, much of domestic piety was lavished on her. She received daily offerings, and she was also invoked on special occasions, e.g., the introduction of new members into the household. Since the temple of a god was considered a “home” for that god, it is not surprising to find Hestia worshipped there as well, e.g., Apollon’s temple at Delphi (see Homeric Hymn to Hestia no. 24). As the hearth was a central point unifying the household and temple, so, too, did communities have a public hearth that promoted the polity’s well-being, and thus Hestia also received state cult honors. The cult of her famous counterpart in Rome, Vesta, included a college of women whose function was to keep the sacred flame of the city’s hearth continually burning. We find similar instances of the maintenance of an eternal, pure flame in Greek civic hearths. She was the first and the last deity to whom libations were poured at a public feast (see Homeric Hymn to Hestia 29.3–6). That she was the first to be swallowed and the last to be disgorged by Kronos is perhaps a mythological reflection of this; our hymn’s position near the end of the collection might also have been influenced by this practice (see further OH 79i). In general, though, it was customary to give her offerings before other gods. Sokrates, about to embark on a discussion on the etymology of gods’ names, asks his interlocutor if they should start with Hestia, as is the custom, and later notes that Hestia is the first divinity invoked at sacrifices (Plato Cratylus 401b2 and d1–2). It is not hyperbole to state that she was the most worshipped divinity in the ancient world as well as the most important divinity in the daily lives of the majority of people. For more information on the cult of Hestia, see Larson 2007, pp. 160–62.

  2 center of the house: This probably originated in the plan of the bronze-age megaron, which had its hearth in the center; early temples, too, seemed to have been planned around a hearth. The hearth by its nature is a central element in any house, regardless of its exact physical location.

  4 purity: Fire is an element that by its very nature is pure, and this concept of purity was extended to the hearth fire and, naturally, to the conception of Hestia herself. She was a virgin goddess, and the women who tended Vesta’s flame in Rome were virgins on pain of death. Hesiod admonishes his brother “not [to] sit by the hearth/with your genitals exposed and bespattered with semen” (Works and Days 733–734). For the role of purity in cult, see OH 30.4n.

  5 home of the blessed gods: So, too, Sky (OH 4.4); see also OH 5.1n.

  8 prosperity … health: Hestia was imagined to be both benefactress and protectress of the home; compare the end of the Homeric Hymn to Hestia 29 as well as OH 27.9+n.

  85. To Sleep

  Sleep, along with the race of Dreams and Death, is a child of Night, who bore this brood alone (Hesiod Theogony 211–212; cf. OH 3.5, 7). Thus, the last three hymns in the collection form a natural triplet. In the Homeric epic, too, he is the personified brother of Death, and Hera enlists his services to put Zeus to sleep (Iliad 14.224–279). The Greeks felt a close affinity between sleep and death, probably inferring it from the close resemblance between a body asleep and a body dead. Hesiod says that for the Golden Race of men, “a sleeplike death subdued them” (Works and Days 116) instead of death, and both Sleep and Death do honor to Sarpedon, a son of Zeus, by carrying his corpse from the field of battle to his home in Lykia for a proper burial (Iliad 16.671–673 and 681–883). Pausanias reports that on the chest of Kypselos, Night holds two infants, one white, who is Sleep, the other black, who is Death (5.18.1). Hesiod describes a similar scene, although Night only holds Sleep; the poet further contrasts the gentle nature of Sleep with the hated figure of Death (Theogony 755–766). This fraternal relationship between Sleep and Death is emphasized in our collection, as can be seen in a number of conceptual and linguistic parallels in their hymns: they hold power over all mortals (OH 85.1–3 OH 87.1–2), they have a liberating function (OH 85.5 OH 87.3–4), and sleep is a kind of practice death (OH 85.7), while death is a kind of permanent sleep (OH 87.3, 5). Sleep played a negligible role in cult. However, according to Pausanias, the people of Troizen sacrificed on an ancient altar dedicated to the Muses and Sleep, claiming that the latter was most cherished by the former (2.31.3). This probably is a reflection of both divinities’ ability to release, albeit temporarily, the minds of men from the worries and cares of their dreary daily existence (see note to line 8).

  1–4: The idea that Sleep binds all is found in the epic epithet “pandamatōr” (“all-subduer, all-binder”), which occurs in Homer and Orphic fragment 223; in the latter it appears in the context of Zeus’ overthrowing of his father, Kronos. The beginning of book 24 of the Iliad is a beautiful illustration of what happens to those whom this “all-taming lord” does not v
isit—the oldest description of the torments of insomnia (24.1–21).

  8 Death and Oblivion … a true brother: For this relationship to Death, see the introduction to this hymn. The relationship with Oblivion requires some explanation. Hesiod makes Oblivion a granddaughter of Night and so a niece of Death and Sleep (Theogony 227). Oblivion (Greek Lethe) has close connections with Death. It is one of the rivers in the underworld, whose waters cause the drinker to forget their previous life. Johnston has argued that in the eschatology found on some of the Bacchic gold tablets, the body of water the soul of the initiate is instructed to avoid is the Spring of Forgetfulness (Graf/Johnston 2007, pp. 94–136, passim, especially pp. 116–120; this is opposed to the Lake of Mnemosyne, whither the soul is directed; see OH 77i). It may be that Oblivion is mentioned here because of Death, and the relation to Sleep is merely a function of his relation to Death. However, forgetfulness also has relevance to the living. In the hymn to Mnemosyne, “evil oblivion” is said to be “alien to her” (OH 77.3), and the goddess is asked to “ward off oblivion” so that the rite might not be forgotten (OH 77.9–10). On the other hand, oblivion may have positive connotations. In the hymn to Night, the goddess is said to “free us from cares” (see OH 3.6), which is a translation of a Greek word that literally means “causing to forget cares.” This is comparable to the “free us of cares” in line 5 (a more literal translation of a different Greek word), and it is notable that the “sweet respite from toil” in this line is almost exactly parallel to the “you offer us welcome respite from toil” in the hymn to Night (OH 3.6). The sacrifice to the Muses and Sleep mentioned in the introductory note is also relevant here. Sleep is probably therefore imagined here as “a true brother” of Oblivion based on this affinity of function. (Presumably Oblivion is considered the daughter of Night, contra the Hesiodic genealogy, thus inheriting some of the powers of her mother.) Ovid portrays Sleep dwelling in a cave whence the river Lethe originates (Metamorphoses 11.602–604).

  9–10: If the hymns were sung in order at an all-night ritual (see OH 3i and OH 78i), the position of this one dedicated to Sleep is quite understandable. The initiates would literally be calling on the god, of whose favor they would acutely feel the need; see further OH 54.5+n.

  86. To Dream

  For the genealogy of the race of Dreams, see Hesiod Theogony 211–212 and OH 85i. Ovid makes Dreams the sons of Sleep, and furthermore “modernizes” them by distinguishing certain specialists who, however, only appear to distinguished persons: Morpheus can take on any human form, Phobetor (aka Ikelos) any animal, and Phantasos any natural object (Metamorphoses 11.633–643). We find a personified Dream in the second book of the Iliad, where Zeus wishes to deceive Agamemnon and so dispatches “baneful Dream” (cf. line 1 of this hymn) to suggest that Troy will fall if promptly attacked, when in reality Zeus is planning woes for the Greeks (2.1–40). Homer compares Akhilleus’ chasing of Hektor around the walls of Troy to a dream where the pursuer never catches the pursued, who nevertheless cannot wholly escape the pursuer (Iliad 22.199–201). In the Odyssey, Penelope tells her disguised husband that there are dreams that issue forth from one of two gates; false ones come through gates of ivory, while true ones through gates of horn (19.559–567; cf. Vergil Aeneid 6.893–896, where Aeneas returns from the underworld through the gates of ivory). This dichotomy between true and false revelation is paralleled in Hesiod’s epiphany of the Muses, where the goddesses claim “we know how to tell many lies that pass for truth, / and when we wish, we know to tell the truth itself” (Theogony 27–28). Euripides gives an interesting etiology of dreams in his play Iphigeneia at Tauris. Earth, in anger at Apollon for his taking over the oracle at Delphi from her daughter Themis, sends prophetic dreams to men as they lie on the ground; the young Apollon complains to daddy Zeus about the competition, and Zeus simply causes the dreams to stop (1259–1282; see also OH 79.3–6n). The interpretation of dreams must be one of the oldest forms of divination; both in cult and literature, there were numerous dream oracles (for an example, see OH 74i) and more informal dream visions (see, e.g., OH 12.10; note, too, that the title character of Iphigeneia at Tauris misinterprets one at the beginning of the play, 42–58). Akhilleus, worn out from dragging Hektor’s corpse, falls asleep on the shore and is visited by the dream-image of Patroklos, who, among other things, briefly foretells Akhilleus’ death at Troy (Iliad 23.54–107). Over two thousand years before Freud, we find books written to explain the significance of dreams; unfortunately, all but one, the Oneirokritika of Artemidoros (middle to late second century AD), survives. We also possess the Sacred Tales (= Orations 47–52) of Aristides (middle second century AD) that records revelatory dreams sent to him by Asklepios, whose worship had a connection with dreams through the visions that arose through incubation (see OH 67i).

  Our hymn is particularly concerned with dream divinations, but it introduces an ethical criterion on the basis of which one may receive dreams that signify the future. Similar ethical criteria are found in the fate of the soul in Orphic eschatology (see OH 13i) and as a constitutive underpinning of the cosmos’ structure (see OH 64i). With physical sleep probably imminent for the initiates, assuming an all-night ritual (see OH 3i), sweet dreams would naturally be a concern.

  18 weird apparitions: Similarly described are the “weird shapes” by which Melinoe appears to mortals (see OH 71.6–9+11n). And, as is also the case with Melinoe and other threatening powers, “baneful Dream” is asked to come in his beneficial, not harmful, guise.

  87. To Death

  For the genealogy of the personified figure of Death (Greek Thanatos), see OH 85i. Death is to be distinguished from Hades, although Euripides imaginatively calls Death a “winged Hades” in his tragicomedy Alkestis 252. Thanatos appears on stage in this play which treats the story of Herakles wrestling Death for the soul of Alkestis (837–860, 1140). We are told by Pherekydes of Athens that Sisyphos kept Death tied up, until he was freed by Ares, who consequently served up Sisyphos to him. For obvious reasons Death and the boatman of the dead, Kharon, sometimes confused even in antiquity, have totally merged in the modern Greek figure of Charos with whom Digenes and other epic figures wrestle in “the marble threshing floors” of folk poetry. The personification of Death is rather weak in this hymn. Its appearance at the end of the collection is symbolic, forming a ring composition with the theme of birth that occurs at the beginning with the hymns to Hekate and Prothyraia (see OH 2i, and cf. OH 15i); birth and rebirth are motifs in the central Dionysian section as well (see OH 44i).

  3–4: The idea that the body is a kind of prison for the soul is found in Plato Cratylus 400b–c, where Sokrates discusses three different etymologies for the Greek word for body, “sōma.” Two of them involve a play on the Greek word “sēma”: the body is the “tomb” (“sēma”) of the soul or the body is the “marker” or “token” (“sēma”) of the soul. A third possibility, the one which Sokrates claims seems the best to him, he attributes to the “Orphics,” who assert that the body is a prison for the soul that keeps it safe until it “pays the penalty” (“sōma” being derived in this context from the verb “sōizo,” “I keep safe, preserve”; compare also Plato Phaedo 62b). Plato does not mention what the penalty is, but presumably he has in mind the Orphic conception that human beings participate in the Titans’ guilt for slaying Dionysos (see further OH 37i). Mention of retribution for a crime is found on two of the Bacchic gold tablets (nos. 6 and 7). See also the introduction to the translation.

  8: There are a number of mythological figures who take on the role of judge of the dead, such as Minos, Rhadamanthys, and Aiakos; see OH 18.16+n. The punishments of such luminaries as Tantalos and Sisyphos imply such a judging. Here, however, the end of life itself is presented as a juridical sentence, a case of an ethical viewpoint being grafted onto a natural process (see OH 86i). It is “common to all” (see also lines 1 and 6), because all human beings share in the blood guilt of the Titans (see previous note).