The Mantic Pine Of Erigone Poem by Steve Trimmer

Icarius so made his wine
An’ proffered he a jarful
To Marathonian shepherds
Who tarried in the wealds
Neath Mount Pentelicus

Yet, the folly shepherds forgot
To dilute the wine brew
With watery-mix (forsooth, forsooth)
So besotted wert they; in two-fold vision
They thought themselves bewitched
So, ere their foundering, in liminal rage
They slew poor Icarius
An’ interred him below the Pine Tree of Attis

His hound, Maera, looked on in harrow’d choler
For She was no common hound
Marry no, this hound were of Hecuba
An’ of the tripartite-pate of Hecate Herself

The scent of Icarius’ malaise-faced copse
Presently fowled the Air

Maera wended through the gazing trees
Then found Erigone; Daughter of Icarius
The polymath hound clenched the robe of Lady Erigone
Leading Her to Her father’s un-hallowed grave
Maera the Hound, then exhumed the cadaver
An’ ululated an elegy of melancholia

Maiden Erigone fell to Her knees, nonplused by this lurid sight
Tears mixed with ire in the heart of dear Lady Erigone

This adjuration says She;

“By’r blood, so seeking revenge, I place a wretched curse
Upon the Daughters of Athens
Those same Atticans, who castrated the votive
Dear Attis the Phrygian
Spilling his blood to the soil
Thus leaving him dead neath this very Pine Tree
Yes, the very Pine Tree where now my father Icarius doth lay
Oh! My dear father Icarius, once a son of The Icarian Sea
………………….Dear, dear Icarius!
Alack! Ye wretched Daughters of Athens
For I am Erigone, divine child also, of Ariadne and Helen
My Holy Mothers, who hang as fruit from thy trees
Ladies who bringeth forth fertility to these lands
Now, I too shalt dangle by a tree
From the branches of my father’s Death Tree
Curse to thee Athenians! Cursed be Athens!
Prithee, dear godlings, from Gaea’s own womb
Come hither!
Shalt all Maids of Athens suffer my fate
May they all hang by trees
Whilst mine, an’ mine own father’s death go un-avenged
Fulfill this entreaty, Oh! Godlings and Muses of Hera, I command it!
May it come to pass, ere I be placed upon my bier………….I command it! ”

Lady Erigone then placed a noose about Her neck
Then ties the loose end onto the west side of The Pine
With eyes fixed forward in determined zeal
She leapt down to Her demise

The spell was cast
The Wheels of Justice in motion
For The Gods hearkened Her petition
An’ Maera led Her soul to Hecuba Herself
…………………..sweet child

So it came to pass
Erigone’s cries were heard
Many an Athenian Maiden soon hung from the trees
By their own volition

When The Delphic Oracle wast consulted
The explanation was;

“Erigone…………..yes Lady Erigone’s curse…………bringeth forth full atonement and revenge for the two deaths………..the deaths of Icarius and Maid Erigone………….do this ye insipid ones of Attica……..swallow thy pride of false convocation……or all Daughters of Athens will choose the Trees o’er life……………stop the madness………..stop the madness! ”

Forthwith, the guilt-stricken shepherds were found
Then hung in the vineyard
(Dionysus hoists a chalice)

In honour of the Lady Erigone (as appeasement to Her wrath)
The Vintage Festival wast sanctioned
E’en our Mother Tellus had wept for The Maid
As so, libations be now poured to Erigone, then poured to Icarius
Girls now swing whilst standing upon platforms
Rather than from a noose (thanks be to Hecate)
Lady Erigone smiles at these new found gambols
Her invective incantations
Now replaced with jocund revels

Yet, prophylactic masks of The Priestesses still hang from trees
Blowing; in the sowing winds of Zephyr
Like the bay of Hecuba’s protean hound
A death-song
Which shalt yield life
A fructifying song of cyclical tone;

………..Of Arboreal Rhymes
To Maera and Her Dog-Star
An’ to the swinging of Lunar phases
Where Daughters wax and wane
Where fathers sacrifice all, for their little girls
So The Maidens canst, verily, work their magick
So The Nymphs may spin Ariadne’s Web of Life
So Hecuba might bring forth renewal from fallow meads

Chew, chew, chew thy leaves of laurel my Ladies
Kiss, kiss, kiss us with lips of the belladonna…….my beautifuls

Oh! Lady Erigone (what of Her eponymy?)
Thou art not a ‘Child of Strife’
But rather; ‘A Bountiful Offspring’
For the once lonesome Pine
Be now begirded in fructiferous Orchards

An’ by thine own suspirations
Or lack thereof (at breathless Dark Moon)
Be’t thy hanging Fruits of Life
‘gainst all odds
Thou hast delivered Elysium…………..here to Marathon
Attis thanks thee dear Lady
As do I

Steve Trimmer