Sirens and Other Daemon Lovers

The Irish glanconer, or Love-Talker, appears in the form of a charming young man—but woe to the woman who sleeps with him, for she will pine for this fairy’s touch, and lose all will to live. The Elfin Knight of Scottish balladry seduces virtuous maidens from their beds; these girls end up at the bottom of cold, deep rivers by his treacherous hand. The leanan-sidhe is the fairy muse who inspires poets and artists with her touch, causing them to burn so brightly that they die long before their time. The woodwives of Scandinavia are earthy, wild, and sensuous—yet their feminine allure is illusory and from the back their bothes are hollow. Nix and nixies are the male and female spirits who dwell in English rivers, heartbreakingly beautiful to look upon yet very dangerous to kiss—like the beautiful bonga maidens who haunt the riversides of India, the čacce-haldde in Lapland streams, and the neriads in the hidden pools and springs of ancient Greece. Mermaids, the descendants of the sirens, sun themselves by the ocean’s edge and sing their irresistible song; sailors who lust for them are drawn into the waves and drowned. Mermen and selkies (seal-men) come to shore to mate with human maids… but soon abandon their pregnant mortal lovers for the call of the waves.

When we look at older versions of stories we now consider children’s tales (Sleeping Beauty, Little Red Riding Hood, etc.), we find they too have a sexual edge missing in the modern retellings. In the earliest versions of Sleeping Beauty, the princess is wakened from her long sleep not by a single respectful kiss but by the birth of twins after the prince has come, fornicated with her passive body, and left again. In “animal bridegroom” stories older than the familiar version of Beauty and the Beast, the heroine is wed to the beastly groom before his final transformation; by the dark of night he sheds his animal shape and comes to her bed. “Take off your clothes and come under the covers,” says the wolf to Little Red Riding Hood. “I need to go outside and relieve myself,” the girl prevaricates. “Urinate in the bed, my child,” says the wolf, a wicked gleam in his eye—and only then does she know it is not Grandmother beneath the bedclothes. These were not tales created for children; they were tales for an adult audience—for listeners and readers who knew that the passions of princes are not always chaste; that beautiful girls might grow up to marry beasts; and that lecherous wolves can lurk in the woods or dress up in women’s clothes. (Indeed, so ribald were the old fairy tales that one of the earliest publications of them;—Straparola’s The Delectable Nights—brought charges of indecency from the Venetian Inquisition.)

For centuries, men and women have drawn upon the wealth of sexual imagery to be found in folk tales and classical myths to create fine works of erotic art—in painting, pottery, sculpture, drama, dance, lyric verse, and prose. This legacy comes down to us in beautiful works of ancient poetry: from Anakreon of Ionia (“I clutched [Eros] by the wings and thrust him into the wine and drank him quickly”), from Sappho of Lesbos (“I am a trembling thing, like grass, an inch from dying”), from Catallus of Verona (“She fondles between her thighs, attacking with long fingers whenever she hungers for its sharp bite”). We find an equally vivid sexuality in the verse of the women poets of old Japan, like Onono Komachi (“When my desire grows too fierce I wear my bedclothes inside out”) and Izumi Shikibu (“How deeply my body is stained with yours…”). Ou-Yang Hsiu (“Behind the crystal screen, two pillows: on one, a hairpin fell…”) and the “Empress of Song” Li Chi’ing-Chao (“I hold myself in tired arms until even my dreams turn black”) created the celebrated love poetry of China in centuries past. In India, the delicious mytho-erotic tradition found in stories of Shiva, the dancing Goddess, and Krishna’s amorous exploits is beautifully evoked by numerous poets including Jelaluddin Rumi, whose verses became ecstatic dances for the whirling dervishes (“When lovers moan, they’re telling our story, like this…”), and the Indian princess Mirabai, whose gorgeous, passionate poems were addressed to Krishna, the Dark One (“At midnight she goes out half-mad to slake her thirst at his fountain…”).{For complete transcriptions of these and other erotic poems from ancient times to the present, seek out The Erotic Spirit, an excellent and informative anthology edited by Sam Hamill, Shambhala Publications, 1996.)}