εἴπατε τῷ βασιλεῖ· χαμαὶ πέσε δαίδαλος αὐλά. ούκέτι Φοῖβος ἔχει καλύβαν, οὐ μάντιδα δάφνην, οὐ παγὰν λαλέουσαν, ἀπέσβετο καὶ λάλον ὕδωρ.
Tell the emperor that the Daidalic hall has fallen. No longer does Phoebus have his chamber, nor mantic laurel, nor prophetic spring, and the speaking water has been silenced.

These are the words of the last recorded prophecy uttered by the Delphic Oracle, addressed to Emperor Julian the Apostate. I will not get into the (more than justified) academic debate over its authenticity, you can read about it in the bibliography at the end of the post (Thompson, 1946; Vanderspoel, 2006). Let's take it at face value for a moment. Let's suspend disbelief and take it all in.

The prophecy was issued at some point during the second half of the 4th century AD. The Delphic Oracle had been active (although not with Apollo's voice) since the Late Bronze Age (Dietrich, 1992, p. 57). These words are putting an end to more than 1500 years of prophetic tradition. Not only that, but the Pythia is doing so in dactylic hexameters, the same verses used in Greece's most ancient literature. It is the meter of Homer, of the Illiad and the Oddyssey; a poetic pattern born before the Greeks knew how to write, and passed on orally for centuries. They used the music of myth to retire the song of the god.

And "retire" is the right word to use, because Apollo didn't disappear that day. The Oracle was first and foremost a political agent in Antiquity, and a most important one. Its approval was needed to wage wars, sign treaties and make decisions. Its prerrogatives were forged, bribed and interpreted to fit the rulers' needs. Phoebus was a force you had to take into account. But they were on a new age now, and the gods had long been ignored by human affairs, which now looked towards a new Lord. This oracle marks the culmination of that rejection, and the acceptance of the new order. The poem has Apollo stand up, collect his things and leave calmly, his golden steps echoing against the Senate's marble walls. He knows that the world's politics no longer depend on him, that he is no longer expected to rule and advise. So he retires.

But he is not gone. Oracles were (and still are) defined by their ambiguity, and the last words of Apollo obviously had to stick to the trend. Thus, changing just one puntuation mark, a single pause in speech (from "καλύβαν, οὐ μάντιδα δάφνην" to "καλύβαν· οὐ μάντιδα δάφνην"), the entire poem's meaning changes, and can now be translated like this:

"The Daidalic hall has fallen to the ground. Phoebus no longer has his chamber; (but) he has not fallen silent with regard to the mantic laurel, nor the prophetic spring and the speaking water." (Vanderspoeel, 2006, p. 55)

With this reading, we see the light of the god still shining through the crumbling columns. "It is true", the verses say, "my temple has fallen. I no longer hold authority among the rulers of Mankind, and my earthly palace is gone. But I remain the god of prophecy, and the flowing of human history will not muffle my golden voice. I am still here."

This oracle was described by J. B Bury (1930, p. 370) as "the last fragment of Greek poetry which has moved the hearts of men". While that may be up for discussion, it can make you hear the last breath of a dying world, and it can let you feel the gods surviving it, still present for those who want to listen outside of grandiose halls. And it can certainly keep me up writing about it at 2 a.m.

What does it make you feel?? I would love to know ^^

---

Bibliography:

Bury, J. B (1930) History of the Later Roman Empire

Dietrich, B. C. (1992). Divine Madness and Conflict at Delphi.  Kernos, 5

Thompson, E. A. (1946). The last Delphic oracle. The Classical Quarterly, 40(1-2), 35-36.

Vanderspoel, J. (2006). The enigma of the last oracle. Topoi. Orient-Occident, 7(1), 53-61.