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Jesus has returned to Jerusalem. Now read on!
Vix ingressus erat, cum densam respicit ecce------------
in bivio turbam, clamoremque auribus haurit
ingentem, et secum admirans vestigia pressit.
Vallis erat circum frondosis undique septa
collibus: in medio rivis atque imbribus humor [440]
collectus semper stabat, laticesque perennes,
quo solitae innuptae praedivitis urbis aquari,
et potum pariter pecudes compellere prisci
pastores, lymphaque gregem curare salubri:
unde lacum fama est Ovium dixisse minores. [445]
Huc concursus erat certis de more diebus,
turbaque adibat inops variis exercita morbis.
Namque videbatur, magno quandoque moveri
cum sonitu, medio unda lacu et perculsa repente
sublato ad coelum spumabant coerula fluctu. [450]
Sed vulgo subiti quae motus causa latebat.
Impubes pueri tantum, innuptaeque puellae
signa prius manifesta dabant, seseque canebant
cernere pennatum puerum fulgere per auras
undanti chlamyde, atque auro radiantibus alis [455]
delapsumque polo tranquilla impellere utraque
stagna manu, lateque viam signare cadentem.
Qualis stella, Pater superum quam misit Olympo
aut nautis signum, aut populis in castra coactis,
praecipitat, flammis longe lateque coruscis [460]
scintillans: corda ignaris mortalibus horrent.
Ergo expectabant denso miseri agmine circum
e coelo signum intenti, laticesque quietos
servabant oculis, atque omnes auribus auras;
auditum ad signum subito ut se primus in undas [465]
quisque daret, stagnoque sonanti immergeret artus.
Quippe erat inde salus semper, non pluribus, uni
qui subito impulsum prior exiliisset in aequor.
Sicut ubi vacui tendunt medio aequore campi,
viribus, et rapido iuvenes, decernere cursu, [470]
arrexere animos cuncti, signumque parati
expectant; pulsat pavor intus pectora anhelus
omnibus atque locum spondet sibi quisque priorem.
Hos inter, longo detentus brachia morbo,
brachiaque, et plantas, omnes et inutilis artus, [475]
Iethrus erat; cui quondam, et opes, et avita fuere
praedia opima: sed ut juvenili e corpore morbum
pelleret, heu! nimiùm mendaci credidit arti;
dumque vias omnes, medicaeque explorat opis vim,
pauperiem morbo adiecit miserandus iniquam, [480]
ossibus ad vivum qui iam persederat imis.
Iamque fere denum in luctu quater egerat annum
innumeris circumventus morbisque, fameque,
quem postquam adspexit propius stellantis Olympi
rege satus, sic est ultrò placido ore locutus: [485]
“Infelix, quae te segnis mora detinet unum
servantem has frustra ripas, et tristibus undam
praesentem morbis; alii cum scilicet omnes
protinus hinc abeant laeti, oblitique laborum
accipiant solitas reparato in corpore vires?” [490]
Ille sub haec; largoque genas simul imbre rigabat.
“Non hoc crimen aquae, non vis mihi fontis iniqua est:
verùm ego dum motum opperior salientis aquaï,
praecipites dant saltu alii se in stagna priores
ad sonitum: invalidis nequeo ipse insistere plantis; [495]
nec me tunc opis externae dignatur egentem
in stagno quisquam ante alios mersare salubri.”
Talia narrantem placido deus ore tuetur,
atque ait: “Ipse tuis pedibus subsiste valensque
carpe viam: nec cuncta undis debere necesse est.” [500]
Vix ea, cùm subito cernentibus omnibus ecce
erigitur, stratumque humeris, mirabile visu,
ipse suis referens pedes omnes passibus aequat;
atque suo solidae respondent robore vires.
Sicut ubi in sylvis dum ramos colligit, anguem [505]
frigore sopitum pastor, brumaque rigentem
frondibus implicuit, admovitque inscius igni:
nulla mora est, propiùs flammas vix pertulit, et iam
attollitque caput, jamque ignea lumina torquet,
Perque domum serpens micat arduus ore trilingui.
As soon as he entered the city he met with------------
a great and noisy crowd at the crossroads
thronging, and he stopped, amazed at the sight.
Here was a valley enclosed by shady trees
on all sides: down the middle a stream flowed down [440]
to a perennial pool, fed by rain and dews:
here it was the city’s maidens came to fetch water,
and this was the traditional spot shepherds
drove their herds, to refresh them with a lively drink,
which is why it was known as the Sheep Lake. [445]
Here folk gathered on certain days by custom,
a wretched huddle, all afflicted with illness.
And sometimes they saw a great wave move, stir
itself noisily in the midst of the pool
and abruptly rear up blue towards the sky. [450]
None of them knew what caused this strange motion,
though prepubescent boys and unmarried girls
insisted a clear portent was visible then—
claimed they saw a winged youth flash down through air
clothes billowing, shining aloft with gold [455]
as he descended from heaven, stirring up
the pond with his hand, leaving a trail in the sky
like a star sent by God from Olympus
as a sign to sailors or soldiers in camps:
he came down, bright with drawn-out radiant flames [460]
scintillant: and baffled mortal hearts trembled.
So: those poor people crowded together
waiting heaven’s sign, watching the limpid waters
and listening to the sounds made by the breezes;
to be the first to jump into those waters [465]
—only the first who dived in that sounding pool.
could be guaranteed health; not the rest, only
the one who abruptly disturbed those waters.
Just as sporty youngsters hurry to the field,
to test their strength, and see which of them is fastest, [470]
so these sick ones readied their souls, waiting
expectantly; their hearts pounding, agitated
each one vowing that he would be the first.
Amongst these, one of the chronically ill,
crippled in arms and feet (indeed all over) [475]
was Jethro; who had once been wealthy, with large
ancestral estates: but when disease seized his young
body, alas! he’d put his trust in quacks and frauds;
and so, exploring every medical chance,
poverty had been added to his illnesses, [480]
and sickness had sunk into his very marrow.
And now for almost forty years he'd endured
innumerable sicknesses and hunger,
until the son of starry Olympus came:
the king looked closely, and spoke these soft words: [485]
“Unhappy man, why loiter here uselessly
maintaining this sad poolside vigil alone
in your sickness; when all of the others
depart this place in joy, leaving behind their
disease and reclaiming their bodies’ rude health?” [490]
To this he replied, tears running down his cheeks:
“It’s not the water’s fault, its powers don't shun me:
in truth I've waited too long for the water's gush,
while others have been diving-in before me,
splashy! I’m an invalid. My feet don’t work; [495]
I need help, and no-one here is willing to
stop and carry me to the health-giving pond.”
The god look placidly upon this man
and told him: “stand up on your own two feet
and go your way: you do not need these waters.” [500]
As soon as he spoke, the folk there saw this man
get up, shouldering his mat, amazing sight,
to walk away on his own without difficulty;
regaining at once all of his former strength.
Just as when, gathering branches for firewood [505]
a shepherd picks up a snake, frozen solid
in foliage, unwitting brings it to his fireside:
suddenly its fiery eyes open, and its head
lifts up, coiling fast before the flames, and it
slides through the house, flicking its three-forked tongue.
This account of healing Jethro at the Bethesda pool in Jerusalem derives from John 5. Vida is quite right that there was a tradition that this place was called ‘the Sheep Pool’, oddly given the fact that people drank from and bathed in it (you wouldn't drink sheep dip, after all).
This stays close to the gospel account, except that it omits the hostile response of the locals, angry that Jesus had done this work on the sabbath, a day on which working was forbidden by the Law (‘and therefore did the Jews persecute Jesus, and sought to slay him, because he had done these things on the sabbath day’ John 5:16). I'm not sure why Vida doesn't include this detail. Not to spare the Jews, certainly. .
For me the most striking thing here is the final epic simile: that the healed Jethro was, by implication of similtude, like a frozen snake revivified by heat and left to slide dangerously about our collective domicile. Does it imply that there's something wicked in the heart of Jethro? If so, why did Jesus heal him? Or is the idea that Jesus heals indiscrimately the good and the bad, just as divine grace is poured out for all regardless of merit? Or are we to take from this the idea that Jethro is basically a good man (if a little foolish, as manifested by the way he put trust in quacks and wasted his entire fortune), who has suffered patiently for four decades and now has been redeemed? In which case the epic simile takes its force from the very starkness of its inappositeness.
Epic similes do sometimes trade in contrast: a war scene will be compared, via epic simile, with peaceful farming, or a mighty warrior like Patroklos with a whining baby; but there does seem to me something oddly wrongfooting about the serpentine comparison here. It has something to do with the way the simile brings this frozen snake back to the innocent peasant's hut, warms him back to life and then just leaves him there, a hidden threat to life and limb going forward. And, in the larger scheme of the Christiad, doesn't such a simile both look back—to Satan in the garden of Eden—and forward, to Christ's own revivification? Why specify that trinitarian three-pronged fork in the snake's tongue otherwise? (As a matter of simple natural history, snakes tongues are forked into two, not three.) Something strange is going on here.
The image at the head of this post is ‘The Pool of Bethesda’ (1877) by British artist Robert Bateman.
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