⌚ Narcissus Cursed Men Collection

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Narcissus Cursed Men Collection

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He obeys, and opening the furrows with a slice of his plough, sows the teeth in the ground, as human seed. Then, almost beyond belief, the cultivated earth begins to move, and first spear points appear among the furrows, next helmets nodding their painted crests, then chests and shoulders spring up, and arms weighed down with spears, and the field is thick with the round shields of warriors. Just as at festivals in the theatre, when the curtain is lifted at the end, designs rise in the air, first revealing faces and then gradually the rest, until, raised gently and steadily, they are seen whole, and at last their feet rest on the lower border.

But the one who killed him lived no longer than he did and breathed out the air he had just breathed in. This example stirred them all equally, as if at a storm-wind, and, in their warring, these brothers of a moment were felled by mutual wounds. Five were still standing, one of whom was Echion. He, at a warning from Pallas , threw his weapons on the ground and sought assurances of peace from his brothers, and gave them in return. Now Thebes stands, and now you might be seen as happy, in your exile, Cadmus. Actaeon , one of your grandsons, was your first reason for grief, in all your happiness, Cadmus.

Strange horns appeared on his forehead, and his hunting dogs sated themselves on the blood of their master. But if you look carefully, you will find that it was the fault of chance and not wickedness: what wickedness is there in error? It happened on a mountain, stained with the blood of many creatures, and midday had contracted every shadow and the sun was equidistant from either end of his journey. When Aurora in her golden chariot brings another day we will resume our purpose. Now Phoebus is also between the limits of his task, and is splitting open the earth with his heat. There was a valley there called Gargaphie , dense with pine trees and sharp cypresses, sacred to Diana of the high-girded tunic, where, in the depths, there is a wooded cave, not fashioned by art.

But ingenious nature had imitated art. She had made a natural arch out of native pumice and porous tufa. On the right, a spring of bright clear water murmured into a widening pool, enclosed by grassy banks. Here the woodland goddess, weary from the chase, would bathe her virgin limbs in the crystal liquid. Having reached the place, she gives her spear, quiver and unstrung bow to one of the nymphs, her weapon-bearer.

Another takes her robe over her arm, while two unfasten the sandals on her feet. Then, more skilful than the rest, Theban Crocale gathers the hair strewn around her neck into a knot, while her own is still loose. Nephele, Hyale, Rhanis, Psecas and Phiale draw water, and pour it over their mistress out of the deep jars. So the fates would have it. But the goddess stood head and shoulders above all the others. However, though her band of nymphs gathered in confusion around her, she stood turning to one side, and looking back, and wishing she had her arrows to hand. And then she added fear. He groans: that is his voice, and tears run down his altered face. Only his mind remains unchanged. What can he do? Shall he return to his home and the royal palace, or lie hidden in the woods?

Shame prevents the one, and fear the other. While he hesitates his dogs catch sight of him. The pack of them, greedy for the prey follow over cliffs and crags, and inaccessible rocks, where the way is hard or there is no way at all. He runs, over the places where he has often chased, flying, alas, from his own hounds. Know your own master! They had set out late but outflanked the route by a shortcut over the mountains. While they hold their master the whole pack gathers and they sink their teeth in his body till there is no place left to wound him. He groans and makes a noise, not human, but still not one a deer could make, and fills familiar heights with mournful cries. And on his knees, like a suppliant begging, he turns his wordless head from side to side, as if he were stretching arms out towards them.

Now his friends, unknowingly, urge the ravening crowd of dogs on with their usual cries, looking out for Actaeon, and shouting, in emulation, for absent Actaeon he turning his head at the sound of his name complaining he is not there, and through his slowness is missing the spectacle offered by their prey. They surround him on every side, sinking their jaws into his flesh, tearing their master to pieces in the deceptive shape of the deer. The debate is undecided: to some the punishment is more violent than just, merely for seeing the face of a goddess, others approve it and call it fitting because of her strict vow of virginity, and both can make a case.

She was glad of the disaster that had come down on the house of Agenor , and had transferred her hatred from Europa , to those who were allied to the Tyrian girl by birth. Then there was a fresh wrong added to the first. She was grieved by the fact that Semele was pregnant, with the seed of mighty Jove. I must attack her. If I am rightly to be called most powerful Juno, if it is right for me to hold the jewelled sceptre in my hand, if I am queen, and sister and wife of Jove, sister at least, then it is her I must destroy. Yet I think she is content with her secret, and the injury to my marriage will be brief.

I will render that faith hollow. I am not Saturnia if she does not plunge into the Stygian waters, overwhelmed by Jove himself. But before she removed the cloud she disguised herself as an old woman, ageing her hair, ploughing her skin with wrinkles, and walking with bowed legs and tottering steps. Many men have entered the bedrooms of chaste women in the name of the gods. Beg him to assume all his powers before he embraces you, and be just as glorious as when Juno welcomes him on high. With such words Juno gulled the unsuspecting daughter of Cadmus. Semele asked Jupiter for an unspecified gift.

He groans, since she cannot un-wish it or he un-swear it. So, most sorrowfully, he climbs the heights of heaven, and, with a look, gathered the trailing clouds, then added their vapours to lightning mixed with storm-winds, and thunder and fateful lightning bolts. Still, he tries to reduce his power in whatever way he can, and does not arm himself with that lightning with which he deposed hundred-handed Typhoeus : it is too savage in his grasp. The gods call these his secondary weapons. They agreed to ask learned Tiresias for his opinion. He had known Venus in both ways. Once, with a blow of his stick, he had disturbed two large snakes mating in the green forest, and, marvellous to tell, he was changed from a man to a woman, and lived as such for seven years.

Saturnia , it is said, was more deeply upset than was justified and than the dispute warranted, and damned the one who had made the judgement to eternal night. But, since no god has the right to void what another god has done, the all-powerful father of the gods gave Tiresias knowledge of the future, in exchange for his lost sight, and lightened the punishment with honour. Famous throughout all the Aonian cities, Tiresias gave faultless answers to people who consulted him. Dusky Liriope , the Naiad , was the first to test the truth and the accuracy of his words, whom once the river-god Cephisus clasped in his winding streams, and took by force under the waves. This loveliest of nymphs gave birth at full term to a child whom, even then, one could fall in love with, called Narcissus.

But in the end it proved true: the outcome, and the cause of his death, and the strangeness of his passion. One year the son of Cephisus had reached sixteen and might seem both boy and youth. Many youths, and many young girls desired him. But there was such intense pride in that delicate form that none of the youths or young girls affected him. One day the nymph Echo saw him, driving frightened deer into his nets, she of the echoing voice, who cannot be silent when others have spoken, nor learn how to speak first herself. Echo still had a body then and was not merely a voice. But though she was garrulous, she had no other trick of speech than she has now: she can repeat the last words out of many.

Juno made her like that, because often when she might have caught the nymphs lying beneath her Jupiter , on the mountain slopes, Echo knowingly held her in long conversations, while the nymphs fled. Echo only repeats the last of what is spoken and returns the words she hears. Now when she saw Narcissus wandering through the remote fields, she was inflamed, following him secretly, and the more she followed the closer she burned with fire, no differently than inflammable sulphur, pasted round the tops of torches, catches fire, when a flame is brought near it. O how often she wants to get close to him with seductive words, and call him with soft entreaties!

Her nature denies it, and will not let her begin, but she is ready for what it will allow her to do, to wait for sounds, to which she can return words. Scorned, she wanders in the woods and hides her face in shame among the leaves, and from that time on lives in lonely caves. But still her love endures, increased by the sadness of rejection. Only her bones and the sound of her voice are left. Her voice remains, her bones, they say, were changed to shapes of stone.

She hides in the woods, no longer to be seen on the hills, but to be heard by everyone. It is sound that lives in her. As Narcissus had scorned her, so he had scorned the other nymphs of the rivers and mountains, so he had scorned the companies of young men. There was an unclouded fountain, with silver-bright water, which neither shepherds nor goats grazing the hills, nor other flocks, touched, that no animal or bird disturbed not even a branch falling from a tree. Grass was around it, fed by the moisture nearby, and a grove of trees that prevented the sun from warming the place.

Here, the boy, tired by the heat and his enthusiasm for the chase, lies down, drawn to it by its look and by the fountain. While he desires to quench his thirst, a different thirst is created. While he drinks he is seized by the vision of his reflected form. He loves a bodiless dream. He thinks that a body, that is only a shadow. He is astonished by himself, and hangs there motionless, with a fixed expression, like a statue carved from Parian marble.

Flat on the ground, he contemplates two stars, his eyes, and his hair, fit for Bacchus , fit for Apollo , his youthful cheeks and ivory neck, the beauty of his face, the rose-flush mingled in the whiteness of snow, admiring everything for which he is himself admired. Unknowingly he desires himself, and the one who praises is himself praised, and, while he courts, is courted, so that, equally, he inflames and burns. How often he gave his lips in vain to the deceptive pool, how often, trying to embrace the neck he could see, he plunged his arms into the water, but could not catch himself within them!

What he has seen he does not understand, but what he sees he is on fire for, and the same error both seduces and deceives his eyes. Fool, why try to catch a fleeting image, in vain? What you search for is nowhere: turning away, what you love is lost! What you perceive is the shadow of reflected form: nothing of you is in it. It comes and stays with you, and leaves with you, if you can leave!

Stretched on the shadowed grass he gazes at that false image with unsated eyes, and loses himself in his own vision. You must know, since you have been a chance hiding place for many people. Do you remember in your life that lasts so many centuries, in all the long ages past, anyone who pined away like this? Whenever I extend my lips to the clear liquid, he tries to raise his lips to me. He desires to be held. You would think he could be touched: it is such a small thing that prevents our love. Whoever you are come out to me! Why do you disappoint me, you extraordinary boy? Where do you vanish when I reach for you?

Surely my form and years are not what you flee from, and I am one that the nymphs have loved! You offer me some unknown hope with your friendly look, and when I stretch my arms out to you, you stretch out yours. When I smile, you smile back. And I have often seen your tears when I weep tears. You return the gesture of my head with a nod, and, from the movements of your lovely mouth, I guess that you reply with words that do not reach my ears! I sense it and I am not deceived by my own image. I am burning with love for myself. I move and bear the flames. What shall I do? Surely not court and be courted? Why court then? What I want I have. My riches make me poor. O I wish I could leave my own body!

The only ones missing from these examples are a henna tattoo style pattern or daffodil based mandala tattoo to round out the collection of fantastic lines, swirls, shapes, and accents that the best linework brings out of floral ink. These flowers work simple elements of line and shading to create beautiful daffodils in numerous styles, sizes, and gradient variations. Daffodils are an overwhelmingly positive tattoo idea. They are utilized that way in the body art choice of individuals choosing the image — usually depicted in bold white or its classically cheerful yellow hue. While the Greeks had a comparatively dim view of the Daffodil to other cultures see below , for many different cultures the daffodil has a different meaning.

The flower is most often a symbol of rebirth and regeneration. Given its cultural ties to spring, other emotions and feelings likened to the daffodil flower include optimism, love, vitality, friendship, and positivity. Narcissus, in Greek, means numbness. In ancient Greek Mythology the Narcissus flower was tied to the underworld — referenced by Homer in the Elysian fields of Odyssey. The Goddess Persephone was said to be picking the daffodil when summoned to the Underworld. The beautiful hunter Narcissus was punished by vengeful Goddess Nemesis for his blind self-regard, after callously spurning the nymph Echo. Narcissus died from starvation after being cursed to be unable to tear himself away from his own reflection in a pool of water. He turned into a daffodil after death.

For Greek culture enthusiasts the daffodil can have both a modern take — the rebirth of Narcissus into a flower — or the mythological take of the death aligned Narcissus flower tattoo emphasis. Did you enjoy these daffodil flower tattoo ideas? For more floral tattoo inspiration click on the links below for more galleries:. Source: poem. Source: nabestiaccia via Instagram. Source: ashleytysonart via Instagram. Source: rickiestattoo via Instagram.

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