Personaje
de la mitología griega, rey de Tesalia. Ixión prometió a Deyone un
valioso regalo si permitía casarse con su hija Día, pero nunca
cumplió su promesa, por lo que su suegro en compensación, le tomó
como prenda sus yeguas. Ixión, disimulando su enfado, invitó a
Deyone a una fiesta. Una vez que la tuvo en la
casa, lo arroyó a un foso lleno de carbones ardiendo. Esta deshonra le provocó el abandono y pidió perdón a Zeus diciéndole que hasta los dioses hacían
locuras por amor. Intentó seducir a Hera, la mujer de Zeus,
que indignada se lo contó a su marido. Pero Zeus quiso hacerle una
trampa a Ixión y convirtió una nube
en forma de su mujer. Y cayó en la trampa.
Ejemplos:
“Deep in the shady sadness of a
Vale,
Far sunken from the healthy breath of Morn,
Far from the fiery noon, and Eve's one star,
Sat grey hair'd Saturn quiet as a stone,
Still as the silence round about his Lair.
Forest on forest hung above his head,
Like Cloud on Cloud. No stir of air was there,
Not so much life as on a summer's day
Robs not at all the dandelion's fleece:
But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest.
A stream went voiceless by, still deadened more
By reason of his fallen divinity
Spreading a shade: the Naiad mid her reeds
Press'd her cold finger closer to her lips.”
Far sunken from the healthy breath of Morn,
Far from the fiery noon, and Eve's one star,
Sat grey hair'd Saturn quiet as a stone,
Still as the silence round about his Lair.
Forest on forest hung above his head,
Like Cloud on Cloud. No stir of air was there,
Not so much life as on a summer's day
Robs not at all the dandelion's fleece:
But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest.
A stream went voiceless by, still deadened more
By reason of his fallen divinity
Spreading a shade: the Naiad mid her reeds
Press'd her cold finger closer to her lips.”
- John Keats-Hyperion.
“High in the dome, suspended, of
Hell, sad triumph, behold us!
Here the revenge of a God,
there the amends of a Man.
Whirling forever in torment, flesh
once mortal, immortal
Made — for a purpose of hate
— able to die and revive,
Pays to the uttermost pang, then,
newly for payment replenished,
Doles out — old yet young —
agonies ever afresh;
Whence the result above me: torment
is bridged by a rainbow”
- Robert Borwning
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