User:Paul August/Somnus

Somnus

To Do

• Add Statius?

• See [1]
• See [2]
• See p. 254–255
• See pp. 72ff.

Sources

Ancient

Hesiod

Theogony

211–212

And Night bore hateful Doom and black Fate and Death, and she bore Sleep and the tribe of Dreams.

758–759

And there [in Tartarus] the children of dark Night have their dwellings, Sleep and Death, awful gods.

763

And the former of them [Hypnos] roams peacefully over the earth and the sea's broad back and is kindly to men;

Homer

Iliad

14.230–231

[230] and so came to Lemnos, the city of godlike Thoas. There she met Sleep, the brother of Death;

14.281

So spake she, and Sleep waxed glad, and made answer saying: “Come now, swear to me by the inviolable water of Styx, and with one hand lay thou hold of the bounteous earth, and with the other of the shimmering sea, that one and all they may be witnesses betwixt us twain, even the gods that are below with Cronos, [275] that verily thou wilt give me one of the youthful Graces, even Pasithea, that myself I long for all my days.” So spake he, and the goddess, white-armed Hera, failed not to hearken, but sware as he bade, and invoked by name all the gods below Tartarus, that are called Titans. [280] But when she had sworn and made an end of the oath, the twain left the cities of Lemnos ...

16.672

even to the twin brethren, Sleep and Death,

Odyssey

11.13–14

[Odysseus, describing his trip to the underworld] "She came to deep-flowing Oceanus, that bounds the Earth, where is the land and city of the Cimmerians, [15] wrapped in mist and cloud."

24.11–14

Past the streams of Oceanus they went, past the rock Leucas, past the gates of the sun and the land of dreams, and quickly came to the mead of asphodel, where the spirits dwell, phantoms of men who have done with toils.

Lucian

A True Story [Verae Historiae]

2.32

Ovid

Metamorphoses

Latin text at Perseus

8.823

“Still gentle Sleep, hovering on peaceful wings, soothes Erysichthon.

11.573–583

Meanwhile the daughter of Aeolus, in ignorance of this great disaster, counts off the nights; now hastens on to weave the robes which he is to put on, and now those which she herself will wear when he comes back, and pictures to herself the home-coming which can never be. She dutifully burns incense to all the gods; but most of all she worships at Juno’s shrine, praying for the man who is no more, that her husband may be kept safe from harm, that he may return once more, loving no other woman more than her. And only this prayer of all her prayers could be granted her.

But the goddess could no longer endure these

11.584–615

entreaties for the dead. And that she [Juno] might free her altar from the touch of the hands of mourning, she said: “Iris, most faithful messenger of mine, go quickly to the drowsy house of Sleep [Somni], and bid him send to Alcyone a vision in dead Ceyx’ form to tell her the truth about his fate.” She spoke; and Iris put on her cloak of a thousand hues and, trailing across the sky in a rainbow curve, she sought the cloud-concealed palace of the king of sleep.

Near the land of the Cimmerians there is a deep recess within a hollow mountain, the home and chamber of sluggish Sleep [Somni]. Phoebus can never enter there with his rising, noontide, or setting rays. Clouds of vapour breathe forth from the earth, and dusky twilight shadows. There no wakeful, crested cock with his loud crowing summons the dawn; no watch-dog breaks the deep silence with his baying, or goose, more watchful than the dog. There is no sound of wild beast or of cattle, of branches rustling in the breeze, no clamorous tongues of men. There mute silence dwells. But from the bottom of the cave there flows the stream of Lethe, whose waves, gently murmuring over the gravelly bed, invite to slumber. Before the cavern’s entrance abundant poppies bloom, and countless herbs, from whose juices dewy night distils sleep and spreads its influence over the darkened lands. There is no door in all the house, lest some turning hinge should creak; no guardian on the threshold. But in the cavern’s central space there is a high couch of ebony, downy-soft, black-hued, spread with a dusky coverlet. There lies the god himself, his limbs relaxed in languorous repose. Around him on all sides lie empty dream-shapes [Somnia vana], mimicking many forms, many as ears of grain in harvest-time, as leaves upon the trees, as sands cast on the shore.

11.616–632

When the maiden [Iris] entered there and with her hands brushed aside the dream-shapes [Somnia] that blocked her way, the awesome house was lit up with the gleaming of her garments. Then the god, scarce lifting his eyelids heavy with the weight of sleep, sinking back repeatedly and knocking his breast with his nodding chin, at last shook himself free of himself and, resting on an elbow, asked her (for he recognized her) why she came. And she replied: “O Sleep, thou rest of all things, Sleep, mildest of the gods, balm of the soul, who puttest care to flight, soothest our bodies worn with hard ministries, and preparest them for toil again! Fashion a shape that shall seem true form, and bid it go in semblance of the king to Alcyone in Trachin, famed for Hercules. There let it show her the picture of the wreck. This Juno bids.” When she had done her task Iris departed, for she could no longer endure the power of sleep, and when she felt the drowsiness stealing upon her frame she fled away and retraced her course along the arch over which she had lately passed.

11.633–646

But the father rouses Morpheus from the throng [populo] of his thousand sons, a cunning imitator of the human form. No other is more skilled than he in representing the gait, the features, and the speech of men; the clothing also and the accustomed words of each he represents. His office is with men alone: another takes the form of beast or bird or the long serpent. Him the gods call Icelos, but mortals name him Phobetor. A third is Phantasos, versed in different arts. He puts on deceptive shapes of earth, rocks, water, trees, all lifeless things. These shapes show themselves by night to kings and chieftains, the rest haunt the throng of common folk. These the old sleep-god passes by, and chooses out of all the [cont.]

11.647–649

brethren Morpheus alone to do the bidding of Iris, Thaumas’ daughter. This done, once more in soft drowsiness he droops his head and settles it down upon his high couch.

11.650–676

But Morpheus flits away through the darkness on noiseless wings and quickly comes to the Haemonian city. There, putting off his wings, he takes the face and form of Ceyx, wan like the dead, and stands naked before the couch of the hapless wife. His beard is wet, and water drips from his sodden hair. Then with streaming eyes he bends over her couch and says: “Do you recognize your Ceyx, O most wretched wife? or is my face changed in death? Look on me! You will know me then and find in place of husband your husband’s shade. No help, Alcyone, have your prayers brought to me: I am dead. Cherish no longer your vain hope of me. For stormy Austei caught my ship on the Aegean sea and, tossing her in his fierce blasts, wrecked her there. My lips, calling vainly upon your name, drank in the waves. And this tale no uncertain messenger brings to you, nor do you hear it in the words of vague report; but I myself, wrecked as you see me, tell you of my fate. Get you up, then, and weep for me; put on your mourning garments and let me not go unlamented to the cheerless land of shades.” These words spoke Morpheus, and that, too, in a voice she might well believe her husband’s; he seemed also to weep real tears, and his hands performed the gestures of Ceyx. Alcyone groaned tearfully, stirred her arms in sleep, and seeking his body, held only air in her embrace. She cried aloud: “Wait for me! Whither do you hasten? I will go with you.” Aroused by her own voice and by the image of her [cont.]

11.677

husband, she started wide awake.

Statius

Thebaid

10.84–102

Beyond the misty bowers of western Night and the other Ethiopians⁸ stands a still grove that no star can penetrate; below, a cave heavy with porous rocks runs into a hollow mountain, where sluggish Nature set the halls of lazy Sleep, his carefree dwelling. Sheltered Rest and lazy Oblivion and Sloth, torpid with never-waking countenance, keep the threshold. In the forecourt Eases and Silences sit mute with folded wings, driving blustering winds from the rooftop, forbidding branches to stray, and depriving birds of their song. Here is no roar of sea though all shores resound, none of sky. The very river that runs away close to the cavern among rocks and boulders in the deep valley is silent. Around are black herds; every sheep lies on the ground, the new buds flag, a breath from the earth makes the grasses droop. Inside fiery Mulciber had carved a thousand images of the god. Here wreathed Pleasure clings to his side, here his companion Labour sinking to repose, elsewhere he shares a couch with Bacchus or [cont.]

10.103–131

with Love, Mars’ child. Further inside in the deep recesses of the dwelling he lies with Death also and by none is that picture seen as sad.⁹ These are semblances. Himself beneath the dank cave lies on draperies packed with soporific flowers. His garments exhale, the coverlets are warm with his sluggish body and above the couch a dark vapour breathes out from his panting mouth. One hand holds up the hair falling from his left temple, the other has let go his forgotten horn. Around him are wandering dreams of countless aspect, true mingled with false, sad with comforting (?), the dim troop of Night; they cling to the rafters and doorposts or lie on the ground. Slight and faint is the gleam that circles the dwelling and languid lights inviting first slumbers expire in flickering flames.

Hither the many-hued maiden poised herself from the dark-blue sky. The woods are bright, the gloomy valleys smile upon the goddess, struck by her shining zones the house awakens. But Sleep is not smitten by the goddess’ bright torch nor her sound or voice; he lies as before, until Thaumas’ daughter drove all her rays upon him, sinking deep into his unmoving eyes. Then the golden creator of showers thus began to speak: ‘Sleep, most gentle of the gods, Juno commands you bind the Sidonian captains and the people of fierce Cadmus, who now, puffed up by the issue of the battle, vigilantly watch the Achaean rampart and refuse your power. Grant so potent a prayer. Rarely comes such opportunity to earn Jove’s good will with Juno’s bless­ing(?).’¹⁰

• See Griffin, p. 236

Virgil

Aeneid

5.838–851

Then from the high stars on light-moving wings,

the God of Sleep [Somnus] found passage through the dark

and clove the gloom,—to bring upon thy head,

O Palinurus, an ill-boding sleep,

though blameless thou. Upon thy ship the god

in guise of Phorbas stood, thus whispering:

“Look, Palinurus, how the flowing tides

lift on thy fleet unsteered, and changeless winds

behind thee breathe! 'T is now a happy hour

take thy rest. Lay down the weary head.

Steal tired eyes from toiling. I will do

thine office for thee, just a little space.”

But Palinurus, lifting scarce his eyes,

thus answered him: “Have I not known the face

of yonder placid seas and tranquil waves?

Put faith in such a monster? Could I trust —

I, oft by ocean's treacherous calm betrayed —

my lord Aeneas to false winds and skies?”

5.852–860

So saying, he grasped his rudder tight, and clung

more firmly, fixing on the stars his eyes.

Then waved the god above his brows a branch

wet with the dews of Lethe and imbued

with power of Stygian dark, until his eyes

wavered and slowly sank. The slumberous snare

had scarce unbound his limbs, when, leaning o'er,

the god upon the waters flung him forth,

hands clutching still the helm and ship-rail torn,

and calling on his comrades, but in vain.

Then soared th' immortal into viewless air;

5.854–855

Then waved the god [Somnus] above his brows a branch

wet with the dews of Lethe

6.273–278

In the first courts and entrances of Hell

Sorrows and vengeful Cares on couches lie :

There sad Old Age abides, Diseases pale,

And Fear, and Hunger, temptress to all crime;

Want, base and vile, and, two dread shapes to see,

Bondage and Death : then Sleep [Sopor], Death's next of kin;

6.893–897

Now Sleep has portals twain, whereof the one

Is horn, they say, and easy exit gives

To visions true; the other, gleaming white

With polished ivory, the.dead employ

To people night with unsubstantial dreams.

Modern

Griffin

p. 234

592-649 Sleep's Dwelling

Hypnos and Thanatos are personified as twin brothers in the Iliad (14.271; 16.672). Hypnos lives on the island of Lemnos (Il. 14.230, 281). In the Odyssey the 'land of dreams' has its home on the road leading to Hades and near the stream of Ocean in the same region as the city of the Cimmerians was located (see Stanford 1958-61 on Od. 24.12 and Od. 11.13-14). The Homeric tradition locates the dwellings of Hypnos and the Dreams on earth and Ovid shows his indebtedness to this tradition when he places the caves of Somnus prope Cimmerios (592)...

... Ovid shows his indebtedness to Virgil's Somnus and to the tradition going back to Hesiod which represented Somnus and Somnia as denizens of the underworld when he refers to the river Lethe flowing from the bottom of Somnus' cave (602-3 ...) Ovid also locates Night in Somnus' cave, though he does not define her relationship with Somnus and the Somnia (11.607): ...

Jordan

s.v. Mors p. 204

Mors

Minor god of death. Roman. He equates with the Greek THANATOS. According to legend, is one of the two sons of NYX, goddess of the night. He lives in a remote cave occupied by SOMNUS, god of sleep. beside the river Lethe. Ovid depicts him as a hideous and cadaverous figure dressed in a winding sheet and holding a scythe and hour glass. Known particularly through Lacedaemonian culture where twin statues of Mors and Somnus were placed side by side.

s.v. Somnus p. 291

Somnus

Minor god of sleep. Roman. He equates with the Greek HYPNOS. According to legend he is one of the two sons of Hyx, goddess of night, and lives in a remote cave beside ther Lethe river. He is depicted in Ovid dressed in black but with his robe scattered with stars, wearing a crown of poppies and holding a goblet of opium juice. His attendant MORPHEUS and he oversees the spirits of dreams and nightmares. Particularly noted from the art of the Lacedaemonians who placed statues of Somnus and MORS side by side.

Tripp

s.v. Somnus, p. 534

Somnus. A Roman god of sleep. Somnus is identified with the Greek Hypnos and, like him, is little more than an abstraction. According to Ovid [Metamorphoses 11.592-677], Somnus had a thousand sons. The three whose specialities were identified by the poet were Morpheus, who appears in dreams in human form; Icelos (called Phobetor by men), who takes beast forms; and Phantasos, who appears as inanimate objects. These figures are literary, not mythical concepts, however.