(NOTE: The electronic text obtained from The Electronic Bible Society was
not completely corrected. EWTN has corrected all discovered errors.)
THE PHOENIX.
BY AN UNCERTAIN AUTHOR. ATTRIBUTED TO LACTANTIUS.(1)
[Translated by the Reverend William Fletcher, D.D.]
THERE is a happy spot, retired(2) in the first East, where the great
gate of the eternal pole lies open. It is not, however, situated near to
his rising in summer or in winter, but where the sun pours the day from his
vernal chariot. There a plain spreads its open tracts; nor does any mound
rise, nor hollow valley open(3) itself. But through twice six ells that
place rises above the mountains, whose tops are thought to be lofty among
us. Here is the grove of the sun; a wood stands planted with many a tree,
blooming with the honour of perpetual foliage. When the pole had blazed
with the fires of Phaethon, that place was uninjured by the flames; and
when the deluge had immersed the world in waves, it rose above the waters
of Deucalion. No enfeebling diseases, no sickly old age, nor cruel death,
nor harsh fear, approaches hither, nor dreadful crime, nor mad desire of
riches, nor Mars, nor fury, burning with the love of slaughter.(4) Bitter
grief is absent, and want clothed in rags, and sleepless cares, and violent
hunger. No tempest rages there, nor dreadful violence of the wind; nor does
the hoar-frost cover the earth with cold dew. No cloud extends its
fleecy(5) covering above the plains, nor does the turbid moisture of water
fall from on high; but there is a fountain in the middle, which they call
by the name of "living;"(6) it is clear, gentle, and abounding with sweet
waters, which, bursting forth once during the space of each(7) month,
twelve times irrigates all the grove with waters. Here a species of tree,
rising with lofty stem, bears mellow fruits not about to fall on the
ground. This grove, these woods, a single(8) bird, the phoenix, inhabits,--
single, but it lives reproduced by its own death. It obeys and submits(9)
to Phoebus, a remarkable attendant. Its parent nature has given it to
possess this office. When at its first rising the saffron morn grows red,
when it puts to flight the stars with its rosy light, thrice and four times
she plunges her body into the sacred waves, thrice and four times she sips
water from the living stream.(10) She is raised aloft, and takes her seat
on the highest top of the lofty tree, which alone looks down upon the whole
grove; and turning herself to the fresh risings of the nascent Phoebus, she
awaits his rays and rising beam. And when the sun has thrown back the
threshold of the shining gate, and the light gleam(11) of the first light
has shone forth, she begins to pour strains of sacred song, and to hail(12)
the new light with wondrous voice, which neither the notes of the
nightingale(13) nor the flute of the Muses can equal with Cyrrhaean(14)
strains. But neither is it thought that the dying swan can imitate it, nor
the tuneful strings of the lyre of Mercury. After that Phoebus has brought
back his horses to the open heaven,(15) and continually advancing, has
displayed(16) his whole orb; she applauds with thrice-repeated flapping of
her wings, and having thrice adored the fire-bearing head, is silent. And
she also distinguishes the swift hours by sounds not liable to error by day
and night: an overseer(17) of the groves, a venerable priestess of the
wood, and alone admitted to thy secrets, O Phoebus. And when she has now
accomplished the thousand years of her life, and length of days has
rendered her burdensome,(1) in order that she may renew the age which has
glided by, the fates pressing(2) her, she flees from the beloved couch of
the accustomed grove. And when she has left the sacred places, through a
desire of being born(3) again, then she seeks this world, where death
reigns. Full of years, she directs her swift flight into Syria, to which
Venus herself has given the name of Phoenice;(4) and through trackless
deserts she seeks the retired groves in the place, where a remote wood lies
concealed through the glens. Then she chooses a lofty palm, with top
reaching to the heavens, which has the pleasing(5) name of phoenix from the
bird, and where(6) no hurtful living creature can break through, or slimy
serpent, or any bird of prey. Then Aeolus shuts in the winds in hanging
caverns, lest they should injure the bright(7) air with their blasts, or
lest a cloud collected by the south wind through the empty sky should
remove the rays of the sun, and be a hindrance(8) to the bird. Afterwards
she builds for herself either a nest or a tomb, for she perishes that she
may live; yet she produces herself. Hence she collects juices and odours,
which the Assyrian gathers from the rich wood, which the wealthy Arabian
gathers; which either the Pygmaean(9) nations, or India crops, or the
Sabaean land produces from its soft bosom. Hence she heaps together
cinnamon and the odour of the far-scented amomum, and balsams with mixed
leaves. Neither the twig of the mild cassia nor of the fragrant acanthus is
absent, nor the tears and rich drop of frankincense. To these she adds
tender ears(10) of flourishing spikenard, and joins the too pleasing
pastures(11) of myrrh. Immediately she places her body about to be changed
on the strewed nest, and her quiet limbs on such(12) a couch. Then with her
mouth she scatters juices around and upon her limbs, about to die with her
own funeral rites. Then amidst various odours she yields up(13) her life,
nor fears the faith of so great a deposit. In the meantime her body,
destroyed by death, which proves the source of life,(14) is hot, and the
heat itself produces a flame; and it conceives fire afar off from the light
of heaven: it blazes, and is dissolved into burnt ashes. And these ashes
collected in death it fuses,(15) as it were, into a mass, and has an
effect(16) resembling seed. From this an animal is said to arise without
limbs, but the worm is said to be of a milky colour. And it suddenly
increases vastly with an imperfectly formed(17) body, and collects itself
into the appearance of a well-rounded egg. After this it is formed again,
such as its figure was before, and the phoenix, having burst her shell,(18)
shoots forth, even as caterpillars(19) in the fields, when they are
fastened by a thread to a stone, are wont to be changed into a butterfly.
No food is appointed for her in our world, nor does any one make it his
business to feed her while unfledged. She sips the delicate(20) ambrosial
dews of heavenly nectar which have fallen from the star-bearing pole. She
gathers these; with these the bird is nourished in the midst of odours,
until she bears a natural form. But when she begins to flourish with early
youth, she flies forth now about to return to her native abode. Previously,
however, she encloses in an ointment of balsam, and in myrrh and
dissolved(21) frankincense, all the remains of her own body, and the bones
or ashes, and relics(22) of herself, and with pious mouth brings it into a
round form,(23) and carrying this with her feet, she goes to the rising of
the sun, and tarrying at the altar, she draws it forth in the sacred
temple. She shows and presents herself an object of admiration to the
beholder; such great beauty is there, such great honour abounds. In the
first place, her colour is like the brilliancy(24) of that which the seeds
of the pomegranate when ripe take under the smooth rind;(25) such colour as
is contained in the leaves which the poppy produces in the fields, when
Flora spreads her garments beneath the blushing sky. Her shoulders and
beautiful breasts shine with this covering; with this her head, with this
her neck, and the upper parts of her back shine. And her tail is extended,
varied with yellow metal, in the spots of which mingled purple blushes.
Between her wings there is a bright(26) mark above, as(27) Tris on high is
wont to paint a cloud from above. She gleams resplendent with a mingling of
the green emerald, and a shining beak(28) of pure horn opens itself. Her
eyes are large;(29) you might believe that they were two jacinths;(1) from
the middle of which a bright flame shines. An irradiated crown is fitted(2)
to the whole of her head, resembling on high the glory of the head of
Phoebus.(3) Scales cover her thighs spangled with yellow metal, but a
rosy(4) colour paints her claws with honour. Her form is seen to blend the
figure of the peacock with that of the painted bird of Phasis.(5) The
winged creature which is produced in the lands of the Arabians, whether it
be beast or bird, can scarcely equal her magnitude.(6) She is not, however,
slow, as birds which through the greatness of their body have sluggish
motions, and a very heavy(7) weight. But she is light and swift, full of
royal beauty. Such she always shows herself(8) in the sight of men. Egypt
comes hither to such a wondrous(9) sight, and the exulting crowd salutes
the rare bird. Immediately they carve her image on the consecrated marble,
and mark both the occurrence and the day with a new title. Birds of every
kind assemble together; none is mindful of prey, none of fear. Attended by
a chorus of birds, she flies through the heaven, and a crowd accompanies
her, exulting in the pious duty. But when she has arrived at the regions of
pure ether, she presently returns;(10) afterwards she is concealed in her
own regions. But oh, bird of happy lot and fate,(11) to whom the god
himself granted to be born from herself! Whether it be female, or male, or
neither, or both, happy she, who enters into(12) no compacts of Venus.
Death is Venus to her; her only pleasure is in death: that she may be born,
she desires previously to die. She is an offspring to herself, her own
father and heir, her own nurse, and always a foster-child to herself. She
is herself indeed, but not the same, since she is herself, and not herself,
having gained eternal life by the blessing of death.
Taken from "The Early Church Fathers and Other Works" originally published
by Wm. B. Eerdmans Pub. Co. in English in Edinburgh, Scotland beginning in
1867. (ANF 7, Roberts and Donaldson). The digital version is by The
Electronic Bible Society, P.O. Box 701356, Dallas, TX 75370, 214-407-WORD.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
The electronic form of this document is copyrighted.
Copyright (c) Eternal Word Television Network 1996.
Provided courtesy of:
EWTN On-Line Services
PO Box 3610
Manassas, VA 22110
Voice: 703-791-2576
Fax: 703-791-4250
Data: 703-791-4336
FTP: ftp.ewtn.com
Telnet: ewtn.com
WWW:
http://www.ewtn.com.
Email address:
[email protected]
-------------------------------------------------------------------
