Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

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The God Sobek

Detail of a sunken-relief on column depicts the crocodile headed god Sobek in the Double Temple of Sobek and Haroeris, Kom Ombo.

Photo: Taylor S. Kennedy

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Ode 1.11 by Horace

You should not ask, it is unholy to know, for me or for you what end the gods will have given, O Leuconoe, nor Babylonian calculations attempt. Much better it is whatever will be to endure, whether more winters Jupiter has allotted or the last, which now weakens against opposing rocks the sea Tyrrhenian: be wise, strain your wines, and because of brief life cut short long-term hopes. While we are speaking, envious will have fled a lifetime: seize the day, as little as possible trusting the future.

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Sculpture of Episteme, symbolizing Science, at the Celsus Library in Ephesus, Anatolia. The third largest library in the ancient world, it was built in honor of a Roman Senator and completed between 114-117 AD. It had the capacity to hold 12,000 scrolls.

Instagram: instagram.com/ancient_archives

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Lamashtu - one of the most known Sumerian demons. It appears in a few forms (shapeshifting) - a she-wolf, a lion-eagle-donkey hybrid or as a midwife. Lamashtu was said to be especially dangerous for women during childbirth and breastfeeding, killing or even eating newborns and young children. Incantation against Lamashtu :  Great is the daughter of Heaven who tortures babies Her hand is a net, her embrace is death She is cruel, raging, angry, predatory A runner, a thief is the daughter of Heaven She touches the bellies of women in labor She pulls out the pregnant women’s baby The daughter of Heaven is one of the Gods, her brothers With no child of her own. Her head is a lion’s head Her body is a donkey’s body She roars like a lion She constantly howls like a demon-dog.

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“Ozymandias” by Percy Bysshe Shelley

I met a traveller from an antique land, Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand, Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed; And on the pedestal, these words appear: My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings; Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.” The photo : Abu Simbel temples, Egypt

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Stele with Law Code of Hammurabi, dated to circa 1780 BC   “Anu and Enlil ordained Hammurabi, a devout prince who fears the gods, to demonstrate justice within the land, to destroy evil and wickedness, to stop the mighty exploiting the weak, to rise like Shamash over the mass of humanity, illuminating the land …” (Translation from "The New Complete Code of Hammurabi," by H. Dieter Viel, University Press of America, 2012)

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“The Prince of the Lilies” - a fresco dated to circa 1550 BC from the palace of Knossos, Crete.  This piece, along with the fresco of children boxing from the island Santorini, “The Ladies of the Minoan Court” and The Dolphin fresco (both from Knossos) are examples of Minoan mural painting, giving us a glimpse of one of the oldest Bronze Age civilizations.

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~ Apulian Cow-Head Rhyton. Date: ca. 340 B.C. Place of origin : South Italy, Apulia, Tarentine Medium: Molded earthenware with slip decoration.

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“Sailing to Byzantium” by W. B. Yeats

That is no country for old men. The young In one another’s arms, birds in the trees —Those dying generations—at their song, The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas, Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long Whatever is begotten, born, and dies. Caught in that sensual music all neglect Monuments of unageing intellect.

An aged man is but a paltry thing, A tattered coat upon a stick, unless Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing For every tatter in its mortal dress, Nor is there singing school but studying Monuments of its own magnificence; And therefore I have sailed the seas and come To the holy city of Byzantium.

O sages standing in God’s holy fire As in the gold mosaic of a wall, Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre, And be the singing-masters of my soul. Consume my heart away; sick with desire And fastened to a dying animal It knows not what it is; and gather me Into the artifice of eternity.

Once out of nature I shall never take My bodily form from any natural thing, But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make Of hammered gold and gold enamelling To keep a drowsy Emperor awake; Or set upon a golden bough to sing To lords and ladies of Byzantium Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

The painting : “The Entry of the Crusaders into Constantinople” by Eugène Ferdinand Victor Delacroix

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Micromosaic in a gilt wood frame depicting a satyr bending over a sleeping nymph by Raffaelli Giacomo (1753-1836)