Saturday, December 17, 2005

Seamus Heaney's Stone from Delphi

Stone from Delphi
by Seamus Heaney

To be carried back to the shrine some dawn
when the sea spreads its far sun-crops to the south
and I make a morning offering again:
that I may escape the miasma of spilled blood,
govern the tongue, fear hybris, fear the god
until he speaks in my untrammelled mouth.


The syntax of this poem immediately shifts us into an intimate space. By beginning the poem with a copula Heaney implies a link to a verb which is absent, so we end up with a phrase. This syntax moves us away from public speaking and into a language which seems spoken to the self, fragmented, ruined. His phraseseology in the title regards the Stone FROM Delphi, and not the OF with which it is usually called which may imply a different stone, but a look at the poem considering the stone of Delphi offers an interesting reading nonetheless.



The Stone of Delphi, or Omphalos, literally translates into "Navel." According to Greek legend, the Omphalos is the center, or navel, of the world, where Zeus sent two eagles from different ends of the cosmos to meet and form it. It originaly stood in the Apollo, where Pythia would give the god's oracles. The stone iteslf shows two eagles and is otherwise formed in what appears to be bees nets. Bees were a symbol of death and rebirth in Greek times. Also notable is that Pythia references Pythons, or snakes, which stand for the turning of seasons and rebirth in celtic mythology.

The possiblity of a rebirth is heavy. The south-moving rains themselves suggest a rebirth, from the seas to the sky and back into the land to run to the sea. He speaks of moving in a motion with these rains, and making his offering in the morning as a new day begins.

The last three lines, which are italicized in the original but not here because I don't have italics, constitute the prayer: that he may avoid the miasma (noxious exhalation) of spilled blood; avoid hubris; and importantly fear the god until he speaks. I believe this is the direct reference to Pythia, and a request that he himself be given the gift of Pythia. The mouth itself is the temple, untrammeled by the world, in which the god's voice may rise. To extend the metaphor of mouth as temple, the tongue itself may be the Pythia, who were possibly known as such because of their writhing constitution, as well as their dangerous mouths.

Pythia, or Sybils, were oracular mystics and channelers who usually worked as medium for one of the chthonic goddesses. It is possible this poem was written for them, from their point of view. Heaney accomplished a similar, tough travelling through time and into another's footwear in Punishment, where he takes the view of the bystanders punishing a woman for adultury in pre-Christian Germany. Of the Sybils Heraclitus writes;

"...with frenzied mouth uttering things not to be laughed at, unadorned and unperfumed, yet reaches to a thousand years with her voice by aid of the god." (Heraclitus, fragment 12)

The aim of this poem is radical then, as an incantation it looks back to wild, mystical women of the pre-christian era as forebearers of the poetic tradition Heaney is now an important part of. At last, it seems appropriate that we return to the beginning. Death seems suggested here. The verbs he uses in the latter half of the poem are "escape; govern; fear; fear; speaks." Previously to "speaks" these are all verbs which involve keeping at bay one thing or another, the distances we must know to live in peace day by day. At last as he speaks, he moves beyond fear of god to give him voice, and in this realizes a death in that his own will and voice dissapear and are replaced by that greater will which is outside himself. This sounds terrifying, but apparently would not be, if there were no self to lament the dissapearance of self. That this comes about before the navel of the world signifies a birth, making this both a religious experience and a creative one.

Lastly, it is interesting how symetrical this poem is; the two halves which unite in the middle, much like the eagles. These two halves may be seen to generate movement on their own, and to be united as a stillness, a center of the earth. One is the sensual account of physical movement and weather, the other a prayer which engages abstract ideas and propositions. It is possible he means these two to be balancing forces, the base and sublime, giving meaning to each other. I recall this balance somewhere else....

A poem I was reminded of reading this poem, was Yeat's Sailing to Byzantium. He writes about an urn, not a stone, but their elliptical themes overlap:

Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

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