Oh The West Wind How You Have Sinned


Of my desirous son
And the love that he won
Of his great jubilation
His embrace of creation
Of his jealous rival; so full of spite
So sour from that sickly sweet sight
Of how his actions saddened them all
Creating a flower which pain does recall
-Oh halcyon Muses nine-
For your version I simply haven’t the time
This was Apollo’s last chance at redemption
That something but power might hold his attention
I had such hope that a new path he’d find
That down the same course he no longer would wind
So I shall sing, shall cry and lament
How from my son Hyacinthos was sent

Dr. ZeusBook IICanto X

It is far too common for love to us fail
So often, instead, does discord prevail

So while Pandora was ‘llowed that one bit of luck
Many find sorrow when with Love’s arrow stuck

For when shackled by Cupid; the spirit’s unchained
And thus is open to the greatest of pain

Therefore the furthest Apollo did fall
For before he’d had no pain at all

Hyacinthos alone would capture his heart
None other could ever, even in part

His only concern was for glory and power
For the feelings of others, he’d spare not an hour

He’d seen humans wallow – lament at their lot
But for their concerns he hadn’t a thought

He saw them, he knew! to suffering unblind
But they’d happen the same – they wouldn’t him bind

However this changed when he first spied that child
He for whom joy was still wild

But his heart wasn’t cold, that wasn’t why
He would not in himself allow sorrow to fly

He saw the transience of mortal life
So he’d not let it fill with sadness and strife

One could acknowledge the worst of the world
While still in themselves keeping it furled

But my son had never enjoyed just the moment
So lost in his schemes’ future deployment

So lost in future kudos and glory
He never saw worth in the passage of story

And though he could see future well
My son couldn’t help but fall under his spell

Thusly though knowing how it would end
He could not from his choice bend

For in every moment he now could see beauty
And so descended from heaven, neglecting his duty

Hyacinthos, now, was my son’s only wish
And for him with music he decided to fish

He found him with friends as they did cavort
As they did compete in all kinds of sport

So he approached the youths with his tortoise-shell lyre
And with beauteous playing did desire inspire

Those noble boys who together had played
Were caught by the ear – they games they then stayed

But when Apollo’s song did finally end
Those youths upon him did not descend

They all were too struck – by his song were so moved
Buy Hyacinthos had will and his worth he then proved

For he wished as always for ever more wonder
All the world’s beauty he looked at as plunder

Confident, assured, he god did approach
Which might be called hybris – might cause reproach

But to be the one chased was for what he had hoped
To be caught and caressed, pleasured and groped

And that youth well my son’s passion read
Wanting to tease, then take him to bed

So he left his agemates behind
And with my son a new love defined

For weeks they engaged in this little dance
But another resented that they’d missed their chance

For Zephyr as well had a love for that boy
And once turned to hate, love does destroy

He resolved that if he could not the youth hold
With no god or man would he ever grow old

So as those two lovers together did play
He knew what to do – saw in what way he’d slay

A discus they threw, forth and then back
With no thought of caution – they didn’t skill lack

On whatever sight they settled their aim
There it would land, ever the same

But passion man Zephyr didn’t play fair
And my son’s next throw he changed in the air

From a course set straight he that discus did pluck
And curved it so thus Hyacinthos was struck

But as soon as he finished, was done in his killing
He knew it had not at all been fulfilling

By stomping out love he nothing had gained
Save for perhaps, an image now stained

As for my son he held that boy broken
And for once in his life was very soft-spoken

“My love” he said “how could you leave?
Mortality’s selfish. Left me ‘lone to bereave

“For you alone I could maybe have changed
From my ambition been at long last estranged

“But with you, too my joy has now died
All I have left in my glory and pride”

And Apollo uncaring then shed a few tears
Transforming that boy, ever young in his years

So Hyacinthos the flower was through tragedy born
Upon who’s petals is Apollo’s grief worn

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