intended, by a kind of sympathetic magic, to promote a reappearance by the goddess.
It is a form of verbal flattery designed to entice the goddess. The ploy is still more
apparent in Sappho’s second surviving prayer-hymn to Aphrodite (fr. 2 Voigt); here
the description of thelocus amoenus filled by Aphrodite’s aura is a verbal spell
designed to lure the goddess ‘‘here from Crete to this your temple.’’
Many choral hymns sung at festivals use myth as a way of evoking a god’s previous
coming to this very spot. Elsewhere I have called these ‘‘advent myths,’’ arguing that
the lyric narrative of an original coming is (a) an invitation to the god(s) to comenow
and (b) a way of convincing participants at the festival that the god is likely to come,
or rather, is already present among them (Furley and Bremer 2001:1.97). For
example, we possess a prose summary of a hymn (a paean) by Alkaios celebrating
Apollo’s coming to Delphi after a protracted absence among the Hyperboreans.
When he finally returned to his oracle in Delphi the hymn describes how nature
celebrated: nightingales and swallows sang, the Castalian spring flowed silver, and the
river Kephisos rose (Furley and Bremer 2001: no. 2.1). Some four centuries later
another Delphic hymn whose text survives as an inscription describes how Apollofirst
arrived in Delphi after journeying from his birthplace Delos. The text of the hymn
(Furley and Bremer, 2001: no. 2.6.2) combines description of the present festival
(music, sacrifice, hymn-singing) with the advent myth to evoke a picture of Apollo
joining the worshipers at their celebration of him: reciprocalcharisindeed! I would,
incidentally, warn all those who wish to see in the famousHomeric Hymn to Apollo
two originally separate parts, one Delian and one Delphic. For it is precisely the
combination of both parts – the god’s birth in Delos and his journey to Delphi to
found the oracle – which constitutes the advent myth essential to Delphic worship.
We can see how narrative of past events ‘‘resurrects’’ them in listeners’ minds in
Christian religious services. The Christmas and Easter stories are retold each year not
merely to recall something which happened in the distant past in a faraway land, but
to announce the recurrence of the miracle: ‘‘Christ is born!’’ or ‘‘Christ is risen from
the dead!’’. This verbal re-enactment of mythical events to underpin present worship
is fundamental to ancient Greek religion. Before Plato, myths about the gods were
told in poetry – hymns, that is. Presently I will consider the different forms these
hymns could take. At this point I wish to stress the feature shared by prayers and
hymns: that ‘‘reminders’’ to the gods of their past appearances and actions are a form
of argument that they should repeat their generosity now. In hymns the narrative is
usually explicit, sometimes multiple: various actions of the god(s) are recalled. The
centrality of myth in hymnic discourse goes a long way to explaining how other poetic
forms often ‘‘branch off ’’ into myth at the earliest possible opportunity. Why should
epinician, which celebrates an athlete’s prowess, suddenly tell a tale about a god or
hero associated with the athlete’s home town, or the place where he won his crown?
Answer: because this form of panegyric was ingrained in the poet’s mind through cult
poetry. Why does choral lyric in tragedy (and, for that matter, comedy) so often
launch into mythological paradigmata? Same answer. Moreover, the logical link
between invocation of a god and narration of his or her prowess in hymnic literature
also explains how myth could be used paradigmatically in other poetic forms. One
was used to applying the lessons of myth to present concerns. Let one example suffice.
On discovering the source of Phaidra’s distress in Euripides’Hippolytus(love for her
stepson) the Chorus launches (525–64) into hymnic address of Eros and Aphrodite,
126 William D. Furley