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III. First Conjunction of Beatific Stars
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'spiritual love seeks sexual expression'
my ba, my soul, attracted to the light,
the flame that lit his alabaster body,
spent itself in poetry and song,
fluttered like a moth about his flame
hypnotised, transfixed by that clear ray
of being
the moth is singed, is doomed, must surely die
less she escapes from light into the dark -
so my soul escaped into the body,
there found peace and pleasure and repose
upon his couch of flesh and in his open arms
* * *
after the hunt he stripped
not shamelessly, just to get out of his clothes
to take the cooling breeze
that crept along the forest floor
by now i think he knew i wanted him
it was all quite natural in the calm greek way
not like those lascivious latins
sucking their forefingers
showing their bums
there was a way, a code: we acted like men
not like men pretending to be women
he made love as he hunted
with determination and with humour
never loosing sight of the fleeting quarry
relaxed and natural with a smiling face
at first he did not love me, that i know,
he did it as a duty, from respect
enjoying the animal vigour, but detached
he lay upon the forest floor
on fallen stalks and leaves, on dry ground
propped upon one elbow, watching me
his thick hair combed; half turned,
one smooth hand resting on the other
the lovely legs half crossed,
a warm bow of flesh awaiting
the hand to draw it - and he smiled
never man more smitten than myself
never longing more powerful than mine
never love more poised more calm than his
the first kiss on those large and lovely lips
had in it the taste of nectar
ganymede himself the cup, my page
antinous
far off my men were setting up the camp
their voices echoed dampened thru the wood
as my thigh slid between his strong smooth thighs
and forest creatures watched us from the trees
and mating butterflies thronged the heavy air
forming a canopy above our heads
when he whispered 'master' i silenced him
hating the word and meaning of the word
told him he was free to love or not
again he whispered 'master' to annoy me
all the laughter gathered in his eyes
* * *
when we walked back to the camp
the men were watching
smiling among themselves...
they envied me
how could they help but envy me the lover
of the loveliest boy in all bithynia?
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Notes to the poem: For the sake of decency and the twitching lace curtains of suburban England, I like to think of Antinous as past the age of consent in this part of my poem-cycle, but alas it was most probably not so. As the classics master said to his pupils in the filmed version of Forster's novel 'Maurice' - "Gentlemen, we now approach the unspeakable vice of the Greeks!"
I can only make the obvious point that things were very different then from now, in all sorts of ways. Even at the time Hadrian's choice of lover did not escape widespread censure. We have to accept the facts of history, distatsteful tho they might be.
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