Voice of Apollo

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Voice of Apollo

Postby Quintus Aurelius Orcus on Sat Jan 08, 2005 10:28 pm

Salvete

I found this on a list and thaught it would be interesting to share this with the others.
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An oracle from Apollo upon the death of Plotinus:

I raise an undying song, to the memory of a gently friend, a hymn of
praise woven to the honey-sweet tones of my lyre under the touch of
the golden plectrum.

The Muses, too, I call to lift the voice with me in strains of many-
toned exultation, in passion ranging over all the modes of song:
even as of old they raised the famous chant to the glory of Aeacides
in the immortal ardours of the Homeric line.

Come, then, Sacred Chorus, let us intone with one great sound the
utmost of all song, I Phoebus, Bathychaites, singing in the midst.

Celestial! Man at first but now nearing the diviner ranks! the bonds
of human necessity are loosed for you and, strong of heart, you beat
your eager way from out the roaring tumult of the fleshly life to
the shores of that wave-washed coast free from the thronging of the
guilty, thence to take the grateful path of the sinless soul: where
glows the splendour of God, where Right is throned in the stainless
place, far from the wrong that mocks at law.

Oft-times as you strove to rise above the bitter waves of this blood-
drenched life, above the sickening whirl, toiling in the mid-most of
the rushing flood and the unimaginable turmoil, oft-times, from the
Ever-Blessed, there was shown to you the Term still close at hand:

Oft-times, when your mind thrust out awry and was like to be rapt
down unsanctioned paths, the Immortals themselves prevented, guiding
you on the straightgoing way to the celestial spheres, pouring down
before you a dense shaft of light that your eyes might see from amid
the mournful gloom.

Sleep never closed those eyes: high above the heavy murk of the mist
you held them; tossed in the welter, you still had vision; still you
saw sights many and fair not granted to all that labour in wisdom's
quest.

But not that you have cast the screen aside, quitted the tomb that
held your lofty soul, you enter at once the heavenly consort: where
fragrant breezes play, where all is unison and winning tenderness
and guileless joy, and the place is lavish of the nectar-streams the
unfailing Gods bestow, with the blandishments of the Loves, and
delicious airs, and tranquil sky:

where Minos and Rhadamanthus dwell, great brethren of the golden
race of mighty Zeus; where dwell the just Aeacus, and Plato,
consecrated power, and stately Pythagoras and all else that form the
Choir of Immortal Love, that share their parentage with the most
blessed spirits, there where the heart is ever lifted in joyous
festival.

O Blessed One, you have fought your many fights; now, crowned with
unfading life, your days are with the Ever-Holy.

Rejoicing Muses, let us stay our song and the subtle windings of our
dance; thus much I could but tell, to my golden lyre, of Plotinus,
the hallowed soul.
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valete

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