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XXIV. THE GOD ABANDONS ANTONY. CAVAFY'S POEMS REWRITTEN. Nos. 26 - 30.
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Octavius invaded Egypt in July 30 BC. By the end of the month Antony was beseiged in Alexandria. Plutarch tells us that Antony realised he was doomed and that he would probably die in battle the following day.
The story (one of those stories which achieves the status of meaningful myth and poetic commentary on life) is that at midnight people heard a ghostly procession passing through the main street of the city toward the Canopic gate (outside which the Romans were encamped) where the unearthly sounds faded. This was interpreted as the god Dionysos (with whom Antony was identified due to his self-indulgent lifestyle) with his divine retinue abandoning the city and Antony.
Cavafy tells us that it is Alexandria herself (personification of the city) who is withdrawing. More prosaically, it is the moment when Antony's luck has finally and disastrously run out.
Cavafy makes of this a long and glorious farewell and the final act of courage on Antony's part, achieved despite a lifetime of dissipation. He has come to his end and yet he regrets nothing and willingly accepts his inevitable fate. Although we may well doubt that such a character as Antony would have reacted in this way, the poem permits us to suspend our disbelief.
For a similar moment in art, this time in music, there is Mahler's wonderful farewell from the Song of the Earth - it is the moment of departure, the final parting, but it is full of beauty and acceptance.
To me, this poem is as much about death as anything else and the human ability to remain unmoved even at the very brink of dissolution. We all finally fall against insuperable odds - it is the nature of life. But if we give way gracefully we turn defeat into victory.
Poem 27 (Endings) shows us a completely different form of termination. I suspect this would have been more like what the actual Antony experienced. Because he after all did not die heroically in battle.
- Charles Bryant, 19 March 2005.
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26. THE GOD ABANDONS ANTONY
at the ghostly midnight hour
you sense an unseen procession,
a mystic train sweeping onwards
past you.
accompanied by melodious voices
you hear a thrilling music:
the sound of waves on a deserted beach
drenched in bright white moonlight;
the whisper of star to star
along galactic highways.
at last your luck's run out.
all you made and did is turned to water
trickling away through illusory hands
held out in supplication. do not despair.
you're ready. you have courage.
whisper 'farewell' to Alexandria. she is passing.
don't choose the prosaic option. do not say
the music was a dream, that you imagined voices.
- that would just be silly.
you are ready. you have your courage.
you were worthy of this great city.
step to the window. go out upon the balcony.
listen, with responding deep emotion
which sets aside all carping, any whining,
to that precious fading melody,
to the voices of the unseen company;
and say goodbye; farewell to Alexandria
who is leaving.
27. ENDINGS
shivering with apprehension,
mind a minefield, foreboding on our faces
we feverishly grab at any half-plausible plan
to plot our way from an expected imminent explosion.
we're wrong. the anticipated blow
is not the one that threatens.
all our scheming's wasted.
the actual disaster, the fate we never thought of,
crashes down upon us
violent and sudden,
finds us totally unprepared,
sweeps us off our feet.
trembling with apprehension,
alarm-bells tripping in feverish minds
glances full of foreboding
we clutch at every half-baked plan
to lead us from this labyrinth of terror.
28. IN IONIA
although we smashed their statues
and drove them from their pillared temples,
the gods still live.
they yet inhabit their ancient Ionian land
guarding the amorous memory in ageless souls.
August dawn upon the coast of Asia Minor.
their ardours shimmering through the pearly atmosphere.
see there! a winged, a graceful flying form
indistinct, indefinite, passing quickly
across the purple-glowing rounded hills.
29. THE SCULPTOR FROM TYANA
form is everything: shape, weight, outline, curve.
from my apprentice boyhood until now
i’ve chiselled an enormous bulk of stone.
in Tyana, where i come from, i’m well known.
my skills are much admired here as well.
this is my Rhea, in the primitive style.
there’s Pompey, Marius and Aemilius
along with Scipio Africanus.
i make them as like as i can.
what do you think of my Patroklos?
i have yet to give him some finishing touches,
carving his nipples, polishing his buttocks:
feel here; at the moment they’re so rough.
the exquisite Kaisarion, next to that unhewn marble -
see how he rests his weight upon one leg.
i’ve spent a lot of time on this Poseidon,
especially his horses. i want to
make it seem as if they’re airborne,
galloping above the moving waves.
but here’s my favourite: look at him, he’s lovely,
sculpted with pious but amorous hands.
one clear summer day i had a vision
of the beautiful youthful Hermes:
here he stands.
30. DODGY IMPULSES
Myrtias from Syria
student at Alexandria
when the emperors Konstans and Konstantios
reigned; Myrtias, only in part a christian,
said: ‘my mind strengthened
by study and meditation
i shall not fear the body and its passions;
nor like a timorous man refrain
from the full range of sensuous pleasure.
i will enjoin my flesh to ascertain
the limits of erotic satisfaction;
or if there be no boundary, to pass,
with all lascivious ardour of my blood,
the pulsing threshold of enamoured lust.
‘these hot temptations shall i fully taste,
relishing the pleasure and the pain,
made strong by rigorous study, energised
by deepest contemplation. i’ll be able,
when i will and if i wish, to recommence
the life of ascetic fortitude, as before.’
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