After Eurydice was lost a second time, Orpheus sat in an enchanted grove where trees and beasts gathered to hear him — and from his lyre sang the loves of the gods: Ganymede borne away by Jove in eagle form, and Hyacinth slain by Apollo's discus, from whose blood the flower sprang marked with AI, AI.1
The enchanted grove
Orpheus drew together a grove where no sun beat too harshly — oak and linden, beech and laurel, and all the trees that once had been men and women. Tigers lay with sheep, and the lynx with the hare; birds and serpents came to listen. There he sat among the animals and tuned his lyre, vowing gentler songs than when he sang of giants on Phlegra: now he would sing of boys beloved of gods, and maids who paid the penalty of wrong.2
Ganymede
First he sang how Jove, burning for the Phrygian boy Ganymede, took no shape but the eagle's — strong enough to bear his thunderbolts — and stole the Trojan from Ida to pour nectar in the cups of the gods on Olympus, to Juno's lasting anger.3
Hyacinth
Then Apollo and Hyacinth, stripped and oiled for sport, cast the discus — and the boy, rushing for glory, was struck as the disc rebounded from the earth. The god could not heal him; from his blood arose a flower like a lily but purple, and on its petals Apollo inscribed the letters of his grief: AI, AI. Sparta still honours Hyacinthus with solemn festival.4
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