Freedom, truth, love, beauty.

The Daughters of Pierus

As the Muse spoke, Minerva could hear wings beating on air, and cries of greeting came from high in the trees. She peered into the foliage, attempting to discover where those sounds, the speech of human beings to be sure, were emanating from: why, from some birds! Bewailing their sad fate, a flock of nine magpies (which mimic anyone they wish to) had settled in the branches overhead.

Minerva having shown astonishment, the Muse gave her a little goddess-chat: “This lot has only recently been added to the throngs of birds. Why? They lost a contest! Their father was Pierus, lord of Pella, their mother was Evippe of Paeonia; nine times she called upon Lucina’s aid and nine times she delivered. Swollen up with foolish pride because they were so many, that crowd of simpleminded sisters went through all Haemonia and through Achaea too, arriving here to challenge us in song:

“‘We’ll show you girls just what real class is

Give up tryin’ to deceive the masses

Your rhymes are fake: accept our wager

Learn which of us is minor and which is major

There’s nine of us here and there’s nine of you

And you’ll be nowhere long before we’re through

Nothin’s gonna save you ‘cuz your songs are lame

And the way you sing ‘em is really a shame

So stop with, “Well I never!” and “This can’t be real!”

We’re the newest New Thing and here is our deal

If we beat you, obsolete you, then you just get gone

From these classy haunts on Mount Helicon

We give you Macedonia—if we lose

An’ that’s an offer you just can’t refuse

So take the wings off, sisters, get down and jam

And let the nymphs be the judges of our poetry slam!’

— Metamorphoses by Ovid, translated by Charles Martin