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When Orpheus Looked Back

I find no peace. I lean upon this stone
As wine-dark waves crash on the Grecian shore,
My voice and lyre silent as the grave.
I have no songs for children nor of war
Nor for a marriage I’d have died to save.
A dirge is all I chant now. To atone.

In Zeus’s name, how could I be so feckless
And disobey Persephone and Hades?
I thought us safe, Eurydice and me!
My flawless wife, that paragon of ladies,
Is truly gone! I’ll never more be free.
To disrespect the gods of death was reckless.

I’ve played for shepherds, sailors, even kings.
Apollo’s present made me like a god!
Each city-state or shrine I played my lyre in
I soon controlled with music. All who trod
I subtly charmed, from argonaut to siren,
With soothing, dulcet tones through voice and strings.

But then Eurydice was fang-struck by
A deadly viper and her soul was taken
Below the Earth into the Underworld
Where haunt the dead, the lost and the forsaken.
I raged bleak songs of mourning. Then I hurled
Sharp words of grief up to the dismal sky.

The gods and nymphs were heart-struck by my anguish
And more than one approached me with this thought:
Confront the gods of death, beg them for mercy;
Sing out my torment; they’ll be so grief-fraught
My pleas will move them as if I were Circe.
Should I succeed, my wife might no more languish!

And so I risked the journey underground
To pray Eurydice be given life.
I sang for Hades and Persephone
And through my music pleaded for my wife.
The caverns echoed with sad harmony;
Stalactites shivered with sepulchral sound.

My song raised sympathy for pity’s sake
And made Persephone and Hades cry!
Through tears they said “Her life we shall restore!
Return where Helios commands the sky.
But Orpheus—don’t look at her before
You both reach Earth or else the spell will break.”

With words of praise and gratitude I cheered!
My wife restored, we clambered upward-bound.
I reached the top, then turned—O fatal sin!
My wife’s left foot had not yet cleared the ground!
When I reached for her with a joyful grin,
Eurydice smiled back—then disappeared.

I gnashed my teeth and fell upon one knee.
We were so close! Hot tears made my eyes sting.
Her perfume lingered. I collapsed in fits.
Have you so ardently wished for a thing
Your fervor made it shatter into bits?
The one thing that I’ve lived for cannot be.

My rue and self-reproach eclipse all light.
I caused my wife to die a second time!
The life I’d hoped to build for us is wrecked
And from this pit of sorrows none may climb.
Despair is all I sing since my neglect
Has brought my only Love eternal night.

.

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Brian Yapko is a lawyer who also writes poetry. He lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

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38 Responses

  1. Paul Buchheit

    Brian: You’ve given us a thrilling journey through Greek mythology…Poor Eurydice! Vibrant language and imagery. My favorite line: “Stalactites shivered with sepulchral sound.”

    Reply
    • Julian D. Woodruff

      Yes! Brilliant. I was reminded of “Possente spirto,” the heart of Monteverde’s Orfeo ed Euridice.

      Reply
      • Brian Yapko

        Thank you, Julian. I have at best a passing familiarity with Monteverde (he wrote the first Baroque opera, The Coronation of Poppea” I believe…?) I don’t know this opera at all. I now look forward to going to Youtube to listen to this aria.

  2. Jeremiah Johnson

    “Stalactites shivered with sepulchral sound.” – Nice line!

    Somehow this whole poem reminds me of Luthien’s journey into Angband to play music for Morgoth and escape with her lover Beren and with the Silmaril – if you’ve ever read Tolkien’s The Silmarillion. Interesting how we don’t create myths, we just rejuvenate and reinvent the older ones.

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Thank you, Jeremiah. I’ve never read The Silmarillion and since I’m looking for something interesting to read so I think you’ve helped me select my next book! And I agree about how mythology keeps recurring. So many of the old myths nail aspects of what it means to be human.

      Reply
  3. Julian D. Woodruff

    Wonderful, Brian. I wonder if Carmina would republish it: more readers should see this. In addition to the marvelous “shivering” line, the “lyre in”/”siren” rhyme is quite resourceful.
    On 2 details: 1) breaking a prepositional phrase over 2 lines (“by/A deadly viper”) seems out of place in a piece drawing on a Classical theme and itself so poised, although I can see that you might have meant to reinforce the horror of the narrative moment; 2) someone, please explain when to use “Oh” or “oh,” and when “O” (“O, her soul …”).

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Thank you very much indeed, Julian. I’ve never heard of Carmina Magazine so I’m glad to know that it is exists. I’ll look at their submission requirements.

      On the issue of the prepositional phrase, I’m not sure I agree with you. First, if this were a third person Classical story I might be more rigid in how I used enjambment, but in this case it’s a dramatic monologue rather than a third party narrative. It is spoken by a distraught man grieving his wife for the second time. I think some fracturing in his thinking might be part of his speech. It is that same fracturing that caused me to use a nonce rhyme scheme which figuratively separates the A rhyme from its mate at the very end of each stanza. That separation can’t be bridged. Much of my Orpheus’s language is either brusk or streams forth. His abilities as a lyricist have been damaged. Hopefully this simply conveys that fact.

      Just for fun I went through some poetry to find similar enjambments and prepositional phrases. I found at least three not dissimilar ones in Lord Byron’s “Don Juan” in cantos XXXVI, LIV and XLV; in Robert Browning’s “Fra Lippo Lippi” and “Caliban upon Setebos”; and in Shelley’s “Mont Blanc” part II and in his “Alastor,” I’m sure many, many more must exist. So for reasons of content and precedent — at least for me — I don’t feel like the language is problematic.

      As for the question of “Oh” versus “O”… I think Oh as a response should generally be Oh. E.g.: “It’s going to rain today.” “Oh.”
      If it’s in poetry as an aside or interjection, I prefer “O.” But in the end I think it’s stylistic more than grammatical. “O” alone has an archaic quality that I wanted for this particular piece.

      Thank you again, Julian. I always appreciate your in-put.

      Reply
      • Julian D. Woodruff

        I certainly can’t argue with your company, Brian. You challenge me to reread the whole composition with an eye to its expressive use of grammar and syntax. At least I recognized that you might be about something at that line break.
        Thanks again for a wonderful poem.

  4. Mike Bryant

    Brian, you have outdone yourself!
    I sneaked a look at the literal translation of Ovid’s tale at Wiki. You have definitely captured the style and feeling of it. It’s interesting that only part of the original was written in the first person from Orpheus’ point of view while you, as you do so well, have stepped into his skin and made it all first person. I also noticed that you used the word “nor” twice in a line just as Ovid did in the literal translation.
    As for the “O vs. Oh” I will let Google handle that one…
    https://www.mentalfloss.com/article/56582/whats-difference-between-o-and-oh
    I believe that in the past the words O and Oh were used interchangeably and the subtle differences in usage are pretty recent.

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Thank you very much, Mike! I took my ancient mythology very seriously! If you care to know, I also make use of Homeric epithets in certain key phrases “fang-struck,” “grief-fraught” and a borrowing of Homer’s famous “wine-dark” sea. This is the poem’s nod to the ancient Greek source of the myth.

      Oh. And Mike, O, Mike! Thank you as well for the clarifying article regarding “oh” and “O.”

      Reply
  6. Joseph S. Salemi

    This is really an amazingly beautiful and resonant piece of work. The ABCBCA rhyme scheme works well, and prevents the poem from becoming too sing-songish, which might happen in a ten-stanza poem with more noticeable rhymes. Here the rhymes come like a gentle rain.

    Along with everyone else here, I love the line “Stalactites shivered with sepulchral sound.” And the poem has just enough feminine rhymes (feckless/reckless, taken/forsaken, anguish/languish, etc.) to prevent too much heaviness.

    May I suggest two minor changes? In the first stanza, line 4 seems to miss a beat, and I think it could be fixed by writing this:

    I have no songs for children nor of war

    This regularizes the meter, and by using “of” you avoid the awkwardness of an unintentional side-by-side triple rhyme of “nor for war.”

    In the fourth stanza, you can omit the somewhat overdramatic “O” this way:

    But then Eurydice was fang-struck by
    A deadly viper, and her soul was taken

    The other “O” that you have in the eighth stanza (O fatal sin!”) is fine, because it is part of an exclamatory declaration.

    One other thing: The rhyme of “mercy” and “Circe” is brilliant.

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Thank you very much indeed, Joseph. I’m extremely gratified by your generous comment and particularly pleased that you liked my rhymes! I am adopting the two revisions you suggest. The loss of “O” in the fourth stanza doesn’t trouble me in the least. And the slight alteration of meaning in stanza one, line four is worth it to remove the ambiguity in the meter. Now that you raised it, I see the problem. My use of “childbirth” requires a pronounced diphthong — 3 syllables. This is how I pronounce it, but there many be many who do not. Thank you for your editorial eye on this.

      Reply
  7. Julian D. Woodruff

    Yes! Brilliant. I was reminded of “Possente spirto,” the heart of Monteverde’s Orfeo ed Euridice.

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      I think this is a redundant comment, Julian, but I’ll thank you again and let you know that I’ve just finished listening to/watching Monteverdi’s “Possente spirto” from “L’Orfeo” performed by the German baritone Christian Gerhaher and the Bayerische Staatsoper. It’s a sublime piece with great musicality, pathos and heart — unusually emotional for early Baroque. I love it. Now I want to see the whole opera. Thanks for the reference!

      Reply
  8. Margaret Coats

    Brian, I generally have no leisure to comment on Friday, but before today is done I must say this poem exudes passion–both love and grief. Later I will say more, but for now, this is the only lyric I think of that justly alludes to wine-dark waves.

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Thank you so much, Margaret! I’m glad you took a moment and I would love to hear more when you get a chance.

      Reply
  9. Cynthia Erlandson

    This is a beautiful poem with strong description and deeply empathetic characterization. It draws the reader into the profound grief of the character, without being the least bit maudlin.

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Thank you very much, Cynthia. I especially appreciate that the poem allowed for you as the reader to have deep empathy for Orpheus.

      Reply
  10. Joshua C. Frank

    Wow, this is a really good poetic retelling of the myth. You’ve really pulled out all the stops with poetic techniques, and it’s great. The ABCBCA rhyming also really helps with the mood.

    The story is a great choice, too. So many grave mistakes start with a single look. In Biblical history, we see Eve captivated by looking at the forbidden fruit, and King David similarly captivated by looking at Uriah’s wife Bathsheba… both looks end with the looker falling into grave sins. How much trouble we could spare ourselves by not looking where we shouldn’t!

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Thank you, Josh! Your comment brings up an interesting recurring source of tragedy — that wrongful look which is almost always in violation of explicit divine instructions. It’s as if we humans just can’t help ourselves. In addition to the examples you mentioned, I’m also reminded of Lot’s wife who turns into a pillar of salt when she violates the admonition not to look back at the destruction of Sodom.

      Reply
      • Joshua C. Frank

        Yes, Lot’s wife is a really good example too… hence Jesus said, “Remember Lot’s wife.” I’m also reminded of Him saying, “No man putting his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.”

        Even in the Old Testament, we see similar admonitions; from Isaiah, we hear, “He that walketh in justices, and speaketh truth, that casteth away avarice by oppression, and shaketh his hands from all bribes, that stoppeth his ears lest he hear blood, and shutteth his eyes that he may see no evil. He shall dwell on high, the fortifications of rocks shall be his highness: bread is given him, his waters are sure. His eyes shall see the king in his beauty, they shall see the land far off.”

        Orpheus isn’t the only pagan source, either; the saying, “Hear no evil, see no evil, and speak no evil” is also pagan in origin, although it fits in with Biblical teaching.

  11. Paul Freeman

    From the hook in the first stanza to the wrap, a well-narrated tale, one which I watched in operatic form when I was about eight.

    Thanks for the read, Brian.

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Thank you very much, Paul. An interesting coincidence — when I was very young my parents took me to see Offenbach’s “Orpheus in the Underworld” — source of the Moulin Rouge’s “Infernal Can-Can.”

      Reply
  13. Anna J. Arredondo

    Brian,
    Well done! As others have mentioned, I like your use of the slightly more unusual rhyme scheme, and I loved many of your rhymes, especially managing to rhyme many of the names.

    I recently came back from a trip to the library with my kids loaded with various books on mythology from the children’s section. I keep seeing the myth-to-verse theme on this site, and thought I ought to try to keep up. No luck yet!…

    Brian, I am impressed by how you keep churning out these weighty, well-wrought poems. I feel like in the span of time it takes me to finish a complete thought you have composed another bible passage/classical music/mythological/current-events related masterpiece!

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Anna, thank you so much for this incredibly generous comment! I love poetry and I love writing poetry so that’s why I keep at it. I must tell you that I very much enjoy your poetry as well and always keep a lookout for your wonderful work when it is published!

      Reply
  14. Susan Jarvis Bryant

    Brian, this adeptly crafted poem is an absolute treat. I love it for many reasons. I always admire how you’re able to slip into the first-person persona so convincingly, and this fine piece elevates your gift to greater heights. I can feel the passion and pain of Orpheus because every stanza burns with his spirit. The images you conjure are bold and beautiful. Like others, I admire the sonorous and somber sibilance of “Stalactites shivered with sepulchral sound”… you have managed to turn words into music – no mean feat.

    As ever, your seamless flow of words, words that weave spellbinding images, create a fresh and vibrant view of this Greek myth – a view I am sure will fire the imaginations of many. This poem is an inspiration – not only does it breathe new and wondrous life into a classic tale, it makes me to want to try my hand at what you do so well. For that, I thank you.

    Also, I admire the employment of the term “fang-struck” … a little stroke of genius that sent a wicked shiver across my skin… the sort of attention to detail that makes all the difference. Very well done indeed!

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Thank you so much, Susan! I’m so honored to get this exceedingly generous comment — a comment which is poetic in itself! I’m particularly tickled by your sonorous and somber sibilance! You must use that line in a future work. Speaking of which, I would love to see you try your hand at a dramatic monologue. I have no doubt that with your magic for words you will write something brilliant. I will look forward to it. And thank you again.

      Reply
  15. Roy E. Peterson

    Brian, beautifully written and with a great unorthodox rhyme scheme that captivates the senses. Really a masterpiece!

    Reply
  16. Margaret Coats

    Have you so ardently wished for a thing
    Your fervor made it shatter into bits?

    This aside-to-the-reader is a perfect rush of emotion that seems as if it could do what it says. And this is merely my favorite of the passionate expressions in this piece. But I would really like to reflect on the Circe/mercy rhyme. It is a profound indication of Orphic talent and Orphic passion that immediately tells why Orpheus failed–at least here in the Brian Yapko poem. Circe is an alluring woman just as Orpheus is a mesmerizing musician. She is also a practitioner of black magic, best known for turning human beings into animals. If Orpheus really wanted to be like her, he wanted to treat Hades and Persephone as Circe had treated men. His sin was hubristic denigration of the gods, not just a slight disobedience to the letter of their instructions. And he expects mercy from them, invoking the rhyming name of Circe who was signally unmerciful unless she was absolutely forced to change her ways? The rhyme leads into serious reflection about your characterization of a speaker who is so distracted he seems insane.

    Sir Thomas Wyatt was thoroughly in command of himself when he wrote “I find no peace . . .” Readers believe him as a cool court poet rather than a manic Orpheus, even though his poem describes a situation with many analogies to that of Orpheus. Is your quotation of him intended?

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Thank you very much for this additional comment, Margaret. It has some very interesting footnotes to this poem and the source material. My version of Orpheus is deeply distraught and probably willing to consider anything to get his wife back. Do keep in mind, however, that it’s the gods and nymphs who are suggesting to Orpheus a course of action “like Circe” so I would not necessarily say this is his own idea (which, admittedly, appeals to him.) But it’s incitement more than an actual course of action. He’s willing to enter the dark realm for Eurydice, but is he actually willing to practice darkness? Perhaps, but I don’t think that’s his character — at least not as I’ve attempted to portray him — and Orpheus, through the years, has been portrayed in many different ways. People may claim they’re willing to go through hell for something but that doesn’t mean they mean it literally. On the other hand, Orpheus is used to being in control and this is a unique situation where he is powerless. There may be enough darkness in his state of mind to suggest that he might do anything to bring Eurydice back. Insane? I’m not sure I’d say he’s lost his mind so much as that he is deeply distraught and his ability to reason has been compromised.

      As for Thomas Wyatt, I did not intend a quote. The phrase “I find no peace” (which I came up with independently) simply conveyed to me the loss of serenity and chronic depressed state of mind of the speaker with no further connotations intended.

      Again, thank you for this comment, Margaret, which really addresses the grieving character of Orpheus in a deep way. And I’m pleased that you liked the aside. It’s one of my favorite parts of the poem.

      Reply
  17. Patricia Allred

    Wow, Brian! With me having zero background in mythology. Your passionate verses stun me deeply.
    An intellectual, I am not. So no need for me to pretend otherwise.! Now er, I do know you are a phenomenally gifted poet. This tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, I only learned by visiting Marcel Camus’s work, Black Orpheus. The girl so fascinated me, I kept going back to the theater to see it. I wrote two poems about it this week.-:) this, is 2034, and I just happened upon this delightful poem. I can learn from it while enjoying it, totally,
    Bless you, Brian_
    Patricia Allred

    Reply

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