Claudian’s Phoenix

[OctoberGwen]

There is a leafy wood fringed by Oceanus’ farthest marge beyond the Indes and the East where Dawn’s panting coursers first seek entrance; it hears the lash close by, what time the watery threshold echoes to the dewy car; and hence comes forth the rosy morn while night, illumined by those far-shining wheels of fire, casts off her sable cloak and broods less darkly. This is the kingdom of the blessèd bird of the sun where it dwells in solitude defended b the inhospitable nature of the land and immune from the ills that befall other living creatures; nor does it suffer infection from the world of men. Equal to the gods is that bird whose life rivals the stars and whose renascent limbs weary the passing centuries. It needs no food to satisfy hunger nor any drink to quench thirst; the sun’s clear beam is its food, the sea’s rare spray its drink–exhalations such as these form its simple nourishment. A mysterious fire flashes from its eyes, and a flaming aureole enriches its head. Its crest shines with the sun’s own light and shatters the darkness with its calm brilliance. Its legs are of Tyrian purple; swifter than those of the Zephyrs are its wings of flower-like blue dappled with rich gold.

Never was this bird conceived nor springs it from any mortal seed, itself is alike its own father and son, and with none to recreate it, it renews its outworn limbs with a rejuvenation of death, and at each decease wins a fresh lease of life. For when a thousand summers have passed far away, a thousand winters gone by, a thousand springs in their course given to the husbandmen that shade of which autumn robbed them, then at last, fordone by the number of its years, it falls a victim to the burden of age; as a tall pine on the summit of Caucasus, wearied with storms, heels over with its weight and threatens at last to crash in ruin; one portion falls by reason of the unceasing winds, another breaks away rotted by the rain, another consumed by the decay of years.

Now the Phoenix’s bright eye grows dim and the pupil becomes palsied by the frost of years, like the moon when she is shrouded in clouds and her horn beings to vanish in the mist. Now his wings, wont to cleave the clouds of heaven, can scarce raise them from the earth. Then, realizing that his span of life is at an end and in preparation for a renewal of his splendour, he gathers dry herbs from the sun-warmed hills, and making an interwoven heap of the branches of the precious tree of Saba he builds that pyre which shall be at once his tomb and his cradle.

On this he takes his seat and as he grows weaker greets the Sun with his sweet voice; offering up prayers and supplications he begs that those fires will give him renewal of strength. Phoebus, on seeing him afar, checks his reins and staying his course consoles his loving child with these words: ‘Thou who art about to leave thy years behind upon yon pyre, who, by this pretence of death, art destined to rediscover life; thou whose decease means but the renewal of existence and who by self-destruction regainest thy lost youth, receive back thy life, quit the body that must die, and by a change of form come forth more beauteous than ever.’

So speaks he, and shaking his head casts one of his golden hairs and smites willing Phoenix with its life-giving effulgence. Now, to ensure his rebirth, he suffers himself to be burned and in his eagerness to be born again meets death with joy. Stricken with the heavenly flame the fragrant pile catches fire and burns the aged body. The moon in amaze checks her milk-white heifers and heaven halts his revolving spheres, while the pyre conceives the new life; Nature takes care that the deathless bird perish not, and calls upon the sun, mindful of his promise, to restore its immortal glory to the world.

Straightway the life spirit surges through his scattered limbs; the renovated blood floods his veins. The ashes show signs of life; they begin to move though there is none to move them, and feathers clothe the mass of cinders. He who was but now the sire comes forth from the pyre the son and successor; between life and life lay but that brief space wherein the pyre burned.

His first delight is to consecrate his father’s spirit by the banks of the Nile and to carry to the land of Aegyptus the burned mass from which he was born. With all speed he wings his way to that foreign strand, carrying the remains in a covering of grass. Birds innumerable accompany him, and whole flocks thereof throng in airy flight. Their mighty host shuts out the sky where’er it passes. But from among so vast an assemblage none dares outstrip the leader; all follow respectfully in the balmy wake of their king. Neither the fierce hawk nor the eagle, Jove’s own armour-bearer, fall to fighting; in honour of their common master a truce is observed by all. Thus the Parthian monarch leads his barbarous hosts by yellow Tigris’ banks, all glorious with jewels and rich ornament and decks his tiara with royal garlands; his horse’s bridle is of gold, Assyrian embroidery embellishes his scarlet robes, and proud with sovereignty he lords it o’er his numberless slaves.

There is in Aegyptus a well-known city celebrated for its pious sacrifices and dedicated to the worship of Ra. Its temples rest on a hundred columns hewn from the quarries of Thebes. Here, as the story tells, the Phoenix is wont to store his father’s ashes and, adoring the image of the god, his master, to entrust his precious burden to the flames. He places on the altar that from which he is sprung and that which remains of himself. Bright shines the wondrous threshold; the fragrant shrine is filled with the holy smoke of the altar and the odour of Indian incense, penetrating even as far as the Pelusiac marshes, fills the nostrils of men, flooding them with its kindly influence and with a scent sweeter than that of nectar perfumes the seven mouths of the dark Nile.

Happy bird, heir to thine own self! Death which proves our undoing restores thy strength. Thine ashes give thee life and though thou perish not thine old age dies. Thou hast beheld all that has been, hast witnessed the passing of the ages. Thou knowest when it was that the waves of the sea rose and o’erflowed the rocks, what year it was that Phaëthon’s error devoted to the flames. Yet did no destruction overwhelm thee; sole survivor thou livest to see the earth subdued; against thee the Fates gather not up their threads, powerless to do thee harm.

Sole survivor thou livest to see the earth subdued; against thee the Fates gather not up their threads, powerless to do thee harm: red patchouli, sweet frankincense, and the figs and pomegranates of the seven mouths of the dark Nile.

This will be gorgeous on someone else, but for me it is a miss. I wanted more delicious red patchouli, which I love, and less fig, which I kind of hate. Alas, this is so very FIG! on my skin - which means it is far, far, far too sweet for me. I get a hint of frankincense and a bit of pomegranate, perhaps a whisper of patchouli, and of course FIG!

Fig lovers should get this immediately, and if you are afraid of patch or frank just hope your skin is like mine and then you'll just have FIG!

[LizziesLuck]

Wet: Immediately this reminds me of something. I hadn't looked at the notes since ordering it, and couldn't remember what was in it...took me a moment to realize it reminds me of The Grave Pig a little, and when I looked up the notes that made sense - the Fig and Patchouli combo. This is earthier though, and almost woody, despite no wood notes being listed. Despite the initial similarities, as I continue sniffing at this and thinking about it, this isn't the same patchouli note as The Grave Pig. The fig is amazing in this, it reminds me of the fig in my beloved Freak Show.

 

 

Dry: Still a lot like The Grave Pig. Which works for me, I love The Grave Pig. This is woodier and sweeter. The fig is the most prominent note on me, with the patchouli baking it up. Really nice, glad I snagged a bottle.

[SimplySyra]

This is woody, earthy, and sweet. I get a definite sense of sweet rich dirt and thick ripe figs. This is a lovely, full round scent and will appeal to anyone who likes earthy scents with a bit of sweetness. The frank is subdued and I would not have guessed it was in here if not for knowing the notes. I do not actually detect any pomegranate although there is a definite sweetness. It is not overbearing on my skin at all, though. Very nice!

[JazzieCazzie]

As with Statius, I worried how the pomegranate would come into play, especially since the other notes listed are all made of win for me.

 

IMP: This is so complex that at first my brain can't even pick out the notes. I'd say the patchouli is predominant in the imp.

 

WET: Pompompompompom. A lot of pomegranate comes to the foreground. I make a sad face. I sniff the crook of my arm where I applied this and got a nose full of pomegranate. But I am going to hold out and see if this shape-shifts on drydown.

 

DRY: OMG YES!!!!!!! The pomegranate releases its little pommy claws, the fig comes to the forefront (one of the only two fruits I love as a perfume, along with pink grapefruit), and the patchouli and frankincense save the day.

 

OVERALL: This, my friends, is an absolute keeper! It is luscious, resiny, round with fig ... it reminds me a lot of my precious Nemesis.

[cuervosueno]

I like this quite a bit too. I tend to like simpler blends where I can pick out the individual notes, and while I generally go for wood or resin scents, there are a couple of fruits I like, such as pom and fig. I saw some reviews on a FB group which said this smelled like Banshee Beat, and thought, oh, no, not what I was looking for AT ALL. (I may be in the minority here but I do not like BB).

 

But I didn't need to worry. This is exactly what I wanted. Pom heavy for sure, which makes it feel red and round. The patch comes off as woody rather than head shop/hippie patch (I love most forms of patchouli, but this one is doesn't scream "I'm wearing patchouli!" as some do). The pom doesn't really fade on me, but the sweet fig does come out a bit as it dries down. I don't get the frankincense at all (something I also love), but that's ok. This is a rich pom blend deepened with the woodiness of the patchouli, and it's really beautiful. I'm so glad I got it!

[Dark Alice]

Wooden, ashy patchouli with touches of fig and Pomegranate. The wood over powers what other wise would be a lovely fruity, resinous scent. So glad I got the chance to try it.

[zankoku_zen]

Fig, slightly ashy patchouli and a touch of frankincense. This one is a deeply figgy blend without being too sweet or fruity. The ashy patchouli adds a dark, gritty edge to the blend with the frankincense smoothing it out at the end. Slightly masculine on me. Good throw, good wearlength.

 

Gritty, dark, fig.

[Little Bird]

I love patchouli, but the red patchouli always smells a little off on me. Claudian's Phoenix is lots of woody fig and sweaty patchouli on my skin, smelling mainly like BO and dry wood. I get the ashy quality that others have mentioned in the drydown. No pom or frankincense. Not a keeper for me.

[ramblingrambler]

When I first opened the imp and applied, I thought for sure I was in a puffy cloud. I don't know why my mind went there, but that's where it went. Then almost instantly I was firmly planted on the ground. This is very woody, very figgy. I was hoping for more patch, but it's nowhere to be seen (or smelled). Fig and frank are present throughout longevity of scent. Lovely, but not for me.