In the Antioch
(From the
Greek of C.P.Cavafy)
That day in Antioch
To learn of Julian’s latest escapade
At Daphne, we were told, Apollo spoke,
Declaring he’d vouchsafe no oracle
(‘So what? Who gives a damn?’ was our response)
Nor speak prophetically unless his shrine,
His Daphne temple, first was purified,
Since those entombed there had unsettled him.
Among those buried lay our Vavylas,
A holy martyr, glory of our church.
The false god feared him, hinted he must go,
Such being the power of our Christian saints
That pagan gods dare not so much as speak,
Let alone prophesy, while they are near.
So Julian, that pagan, lost his cool,
Into a rage he flew, started to shout
“Get rid of these old bones, your Vavylas!
Dig him up! Out with him! At once I say!
Damned Galileans! Take your saint away!
I wear the purple! Tremble and obey!
Bury him anywhere except round here!
Apollo bids me purify his shrine!”
We disinterred the blessed relic fast,
Bore it away, sepulchred lovingly.
Now look how well the temple’s done since then!
The following night, a raging fire broke out
Burning both shrine and idol to the ground
Apollo’s ashes dumped into a bin.
Julian erupted! Spread the story round
That evil Galileans had done this deed.
Let him rant on! He’s not a shred of proof.
We won! We made the bastard hit the roof!
COPYRIGHT (C) 2010 J D FRODSHAM
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