BOOK 10, PART 3: Circe
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The medieval magician Giordano Bruno wrote in Latin a book titled The Incantations of Circe. In it, Circe is figured as an acolyte/priestess performing what I call “catalogue prayers” to the Sun, Moon, and other deified forces of nature. Below you will find an English translation of her incantation to the Moon.
Working Translation of Giordano Bruno’s Cantus Circaeus
Tomas Zahora, 2004
To the highest and most illustrious prince Henri d’Angoulême, the Grand Prior of France, governor of Provence, lieutenant general and through the grace of royal majesty admiral of the entire eastern sea, from Jean Regnault, this eminent prince’s confidential secretary.
When, my Highest Prince, I came upon the double dialogue of the song of Circe and of its application to the art of memory, I thought it worthy of communicating to noble and generous talents since the excellence and results of this art are not hidden from me. For the dialogue deals with matter that is not at all vain or useless, and concerns greatly desirable things. I do admit that besides the title and elements of the art, it has nothing in common with other such treatises composed hitherto, and it admits those things to be its own which have been proven to have Giordano not only for their author but also their honest inventor. And the present publication of that art concerns his reputation and the bringing of justice to his cause, as some of his works have entered circulation spoiled and in corrupt shape, to the extent that the author has been rejected as suspect by the common multitude, and his art has begun to be seen as less acceptable. And so I have been advised to bring to light this mnemonic art whose title is an introduction (in which the promise of results can be expounded), which is followed by subsequent matter, a copy of which art was in my possession. This exemplar faithfully reflects both the original oral form of the art, and a later, improved and more clear version, reedited by Giordano, with its Circaean dialogue and application for the improvement of memory. To this friendly advice, Giordano, as is only right, gave his most willing consent, and asked me (since he had to attend to more pressing business of his own) to take up and complete the task...
Go to site to read in its entirety.
Tomas Zahora, 2004
To the highest and most illustrious prince Henri d’Angoulême, the Grand Prior of France, governor of Provence, lieutenant general and through the grace of royal majesty admiral of the entire eastern sea, from Jean Regnault, this eminent prince’s confidential secretary.
When, my Highest Prince, I came upon the double dialogue of the song of Circe and of its application to the art of memory, I thought it worthy of communicating to noble and generous talents since the excellence and results of this art are not hidden from me. For the dialogue deals with matter that is not at all vain or useless, and concerns greatly desirable things. I do admit that besides the title and elements of the art, it has nothing in common with other such treatises composed hitherto, and it admits those things to be its own which have been proven to have Giordano not only for their author but also their honest inventor. And the present publication of that art concerns his reputation and the bringing of justice to his cause, as some of his works have entered circulation spoiled and in corrupt shape, to the extent that the author has been rejected as suspect by the common multitude, and his art has begun to be seen as less acceptable. And so I have been advised to bring to light this mnemonic art whose title is an introduction (in which the promise of results can be expounded), which is followed by subsequent matter, a copy of which art was in my possession. This exemplar faithfully reflects both the original oral form of the art, and a later, improved and more clear version, reedited by Giordano, with its Circaean dialogue and application for the improvement of memory. To this friendly advice, Giordano, as is only right, gave his most willing consent, and asked me (since he had to attend to more pressing business of his own) to take up and complete the task...
Go to site to read in its entirety.
Incantation
I also appeal to you, Moon. Lo, I am present at your side. Bring forward—I call upon you—your seagulls, cranes, buzzards, storks, jackdaws, ducks, geese, and other aquatic birds; lumacas, siskins, web-footed birds, stock-fish, spiders, weasels, iuersas, lizards, and all your other animals of the same kind: the toad, the frog, crabs, snails, mollusks, and other of your natant creatures. I call to you, whom we call Hecate, Latona, Diana, Phoebe, Lucina, Trivia, Tergemina, the triform goddess; the swift one, wandering everywhere, modest, pious, merciful, and undefiled; the javelin-thrower, honorable one, spirited huntress, queen of the heavens, ruler of the spirits of the dead, goddess of the night, governess of the elements, nurse of the earth, nourisher of living creatures, mistress of the sea, mother of dew, nurse of the air, guardian of tree-groves, mistress over forests, tamer of the underworld, most powerful pursuer of ghosts, consort of Apollo: come to aid me, Menala, the Euxine, Pisaean, Latona, Aventine.
Lo, I am now raised up toward you, old Saturn. Bring forth (I appeal to your power) your asses, oxen, camels, deer, moles, hares, mice, sows, basilisks, cats, monkeys, hyenas, river-fish, mice, toads, gazelles, oryxes, and other terrestrial beasts of your disposition; bats, owls, hens, flies, bugs, locusts, cuckoos, and other flying things of your kind; eel, polyp, sepia, sponge, and remaining water-dwelling creatures of your kind. Saturn, wielding the power of the scythe, ancient, mature, proceeding at leisure, progressing slowly, awesome, scythe-bearing, sorrowful, wise, judicious, profound; the penetrator, examiner, scrutinizer, thinker, observer; ruler of ages, tiller of fields, inventor of the scythe, moderator of the guardians of time, assistant of the ever-proceeding eternity, measurer of immense spaces; you, who balance impassable duration with eternity; you, father of the parent of gods, who bring in and carry away all things under the sway of all-devouring time, warden of all that is brought into being, preserver of all that perdures, and consumer of things that pass away—from whom I have borrowed, so many times, the dragon-drawn chariot; you, who gave birth to the gods: who assigned to Jove the fiery and ethereal heavens, to Juno the air, Neptune the sea, and Pluto the underworld. Stand in my presence, father of the golden age, the Leucadian, Cretan, Italian, of Latium, the Aventine one!
I also appeal to you, Moon. Lo, I am present at your side. Bring forward—I call upon you—your seagulls, cranes, buzzards, storks, jackdaws, ducks, geese, and other aquatic birds; lumacas, siskins, web-footed birds, stock-fish, spiders, weasels, iuersas, lizards, and all your other animals of the same kind: the toad, the frog, crabs, snails, mollusks, and other of your natant creatures. I call to you, whom we call Hecate, Latona, Diana, Phoebe, Lucina, Trivia, Tergemina, the triform goddess; the swift one, wandering everywhere, modest, pious, merciful, and undefiled; the javelin-thrower, honorable one, spirited huntress, queen of the heavens, ruler of the spirits of the dead, goddess of the night, governess of the elements, nurse of the earth, nourisher of living creatures, mistress of the sea, mother of dew, nurse of the air, guardian of tree-groves, mistress over forests, tamer of the underworld, most powerful pursuer of ghosts, consort of Apollo: come to aid me, Menala, the Euxine, Pisaean, Latona, Aventine.
Lo, I am now raised up toward you, old Saturn. Bring forth (I appeal to your power) your asses, oxen, camels, deer, moles, hares, mice, sows, basilisks, cats, monkeys, hyenas, river-fish, mice, toads, gazelles, oryxes, and other terrestrial beasts of your disposition; bats, owls, hens, flies, bugs, locusts, cuckoos, and other flying things of your kind; eel, polyp, sepia, sponge, and remaining water-dwelling creatures of your kind. Saturn, wielding the power of the scythe, ancient, mature, proceeding at leisure, progressing slowly, awesome, scythe-bearing, sorrowful, wise, judicious, profound; the penetrator, examiner, scrutinizer, thinker, observer; ruler of ages, tiller of fields, inventor of the scythe, moderator of the guardians of time, assistant of the ever-proceeding eternity, measurer of immense spaces; you, who balance impassable duration with eternity; you, father of the parent of gods, who bring in and carry away all things under the sway of all-devouring time, warden of all that is brought into being, preserver of all that perdures, and consumer of things that pass away—from whom I have borrowed, so many times, the dragon-drawn chariot; you, who gave birth to the gods: who assigned to Jove the fiery and ethereal heavens, to Juno the air, Neptune the sea, and Pluto the underworld. Stand in my presence, father of the golden age, the Leucadian, Cretan, Italian, of Latium, the Aventine one!