Sing, Heavenly Muse

Among the many gods of ancient Greece, nine goddesses were worshiped as the springs of inspiration and creativity. They were praised as the source of the knowledge embedded in Greek poetry and myths, and all artists paid them tribute.

They were the Muses, and they did not vanish when the Greek Empire crumbled. Their names have made their mark on English literature—and especially Calliope, Muse of epic poetry.  (Today, there is an online poetry journal titled Sparks of Calliope.)

Two of the greatest English epics reference the Muses in their opening stanzas:  

Lo I the man, whose Muse whilome did mask,

As time her taught, in lowly Shepherds eeds,

Am now enforst a far unfiter task,

For trumpets sterne to chaunge mine Oaten reeds.

Edmund Spenser’s The Faeriequeene

Sing, Heavenly Muse, that, on the secret top

Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire

That shepherd who first taught the chosen seed

In the beginning how the heavens and earth

Rose out of chaos...

                John Milton’s Paradise Lost

Both Spenser and Milton were English, both were Christians, and neither worshipped the Greek gods. The Faeriequeene, as I shared in a previous blog post, is an allegory of the Christian walk. Paradise Lost, perhaps the most significant work of blank verse in English literature, is a straightforward tale of Satan’s seduction of humankind and the loss of Eden. They knew that no heathen goddess peeked over their shoulder as they wrote, knew that creativity is the gift of God Himself and God alone.

So why do the speak of a heathen goddess, as if she were the one who had prompted them to write their poems? This question has been lingering in the back of my mind for a long time. I now piece together my response.

Centuries before Spenser and Milton wrote their epics, worship of the Greek gods had faded. The power of the heathen gods was lost, and the concepts they represented remained. From the idolatry of the Greeks come the beautiful images of inspiration personified, and this English poets have gloried in. Spenser and Milton are not the only ones. 

And that my Muse, to some ears not unsweet,

Tempers her words to trampling horses’ feet...

                Philip Sidney’s “The Highway”

For had she not been fair, and thus unkind,

My Muse had slept, and none had known my mind.

                Samuel Daniel’s “Beauty, Time, and Love Sonnets”

In climes beyond the solar road,

Where shaggy forms o’er ice-built mountains roam,

The Muse has broke the twilight gloom...

                Thomas Gray’s “The Progress of Poesy”

His muse, bright angel of his verse,

Gives balm for all the thorns that pierce..

Christopher Smart’s “Song to David”  

No longer, then, is Calliope a goddess to be worshiped and feared. No longer are the names of the Muses names that need make a Christian pause and hesitate. The word Muse has come to mean a source of inspiration—and all artists know how precious inspiration is.

In William Blake’s “To the Muses,” he laments that “The languid strings do scarcely move/The sound is forced, the notes are few.” God forbid that this should hold true! May each poet find his muse, may each creator look to the Creator of all beauty, may no artist fear to seek out inspiration or to imagine inspiration personified.

Calliope, Muse of epic poetry—you never lived, but your spirit lives in us.

(Photo credit to The Cleveland Museum of Art on Unsplash)