This document is a compilation of my Ovid in the Time of Covid blog posts in 2021, which attempted to capture the Covid-19 pandemic, and our responses to it. Inspired by Ovid's Metamorphoses, I tried to liken the pandemic to the tales of transformation in the epic and draw lessons from them for our times. These appeared as monthly blog posts on my blog, www.peripateticperch.com through 2021, the second year of the pandemic. As we begin the third year of the Covid-19 pandemic in 2022, let us hope that we are better able to cope with it.

1. in
the

2. As we began 2021, I thought of sharing a
new monthly piece that captures the
trials and tribulations of the Covid-19
pandemic that we had already endured
through 2020.
As TS Eliot wrote in Four Quartets:
“For last year’s words belong to last
year’s language
And the next year’s words await another
voice.
To make an end is to make a beginning.”
Although we have entered another new
year, 2022, the fact that Covid has
lingered so long, it is likely to leave
some lasting changes in the way we live
and work.
When speaking of changes, how can
we not think of Ovid’s
Metamorphoses, full of legends and
parables from Greek and Roman
mythology that capture fantastical
transformations in response to
circumstances.
Inspired by Ovid's Metamorphoses,
here then is a compilation of my
thoughts on the Covid pandemic and
the changes that we were witnessing
through 2021, when I shared these as
monthly pieces on my blog.
I decided to title it Ovid in the Time of
Covid and I hope it will be a more
tolerable way for us to remember
these pandemic times.
Time it was, when ill winds blew
Through the city of Wuhan in eastern China;
Another of the factory-to-the-world cities few
Would have given a second thought to.
How came it then, that people there were so afflicted
With an illness that was said to be respiratory?
In a matter of days, millions were infected
Until they imposed a lockdown that was mandatory.
At first, all anyone knew was that it was a new virus,
But where it came from, none could say.
They said it was like SARS and MERS and yet it was different
As it rampaged through city and province, day after day.
They said it all began in an animal food market
Where creatures of all kind are each day slayed
To be delighted in, as a feast upon the table;
Now in home after home, people for deliverance prayed.
Rumours spread like wildfire while we waited for the facts,
And the virus carried upon the wind, here and everywhere,
Wreaking Chaos in its path from China across the world;
They said it would go away with the warmth of the summer air
Stay away from each other they said, do not step out;
Speak not too loud, if you must speak at all.
The virus was on everyone’s lips and not always for the right reasons;
Who could tell when, where, or who would be next to fall?
(Inspired by Chaos in Ovid's Metamorphoses)

3. Chaos ’twas called ; a rude unfeatured mass,
A mere vast weight inert, discordant seeds
Of ill-matched things in one huge heap compressed."
– Chaos, Ovid’s Metamorphoses Book I, lines 9-11
"The waves in search of foreign climes ; and men,
Save their own shores, no other region knew."
– Chaos, Ovid's Metamorphoses, Book I, lines 118-19
Chaos by George Frederic Watts (circa 1875), courtesy Wikimedia Commons.

4. Chaos has visited before as we know only too well;
Wars, plague and influenza, these we have already seen.
Wreaking havoc in land after land, laying everyone low
She goes by many names, this time she is Covid-19.
Like the ones that came before she has us in her vice-like clutch,
We should never forget why the pandemic began;
Blaming each other and foreign lands don’t do much,
Chaos is here because of the excesses of man.
Meanwhile cities began to look like ghost towns,
Emptied of life, day as deserted as night.
But if you gazed upward at the sky and saw the shade of blue,
O ne’er did the world see such a beautiful sight.
They said dolphins returned to the lagoons in Venice
And the birds sang louder across the world;
Why then, did the air around the virus get murkier,
And why did the rumours still swirl?
People complained they couldn’t breathe or even smell,
Scientists said that humans caught the virus from a bat;
The symptoms were experienced but the fact still is
It’s our asymptomatic lifestyles, and what we do about that.
Those who could, worked and met on Zoom,
For millions of others, it seemed the death-knell;
Work from home became reality not just a trending hashtag
The world had never seen a worse kind of living hell.
Covid-19 on the other hand has crossed the seven seas;
The virus no border knows, it doesn’t discriminate.
Though the rich living in Elysian fields continue to lament
The loss of freedom, and the restrictions they love to hate.
The poor have no luxury of such thought for they are the chosen ones;
With no work and nowhere to hide or go
And with no room in hospitals and care homes either,
Covid-19 simply seeks them out and deals her deathly blows.
We know not how this will end nor when
Suffice it to say that our lives we must amend
Then and now, now as then.

5. At first in the city of Wuhan, people stayed indoors
Not knowing why or wherefore, this deadly virus came
All they heard, all the time, was stay away, stay apart
If you want to keep out of this virus’ deadly game.
Soon people stopped meeting and greeting each other
It was as if to do so would be a curse
Don’t speak, don’t touch, stay away was the mantra
Anything else would only make it worse.
But nothing could stop Covid-19 from rampaging on
It was in the air, in your breath, and it hung there for hours
If you spoke too close, or too loudly, your words uttered it
Without your ever meaning to send forth droplets and showers
People simply caught it, and many never showed a sign
Despite all the rules of social distancing
It was indiscriminate, cruel, and unforgiving
In fact, it was all the while, physical distancing.
Back at offices, desks were set even farther apart
And fist or elbow bumps replaced the handshake
A smile or a nod was alright, from two metres away
We’re back together, people thought, what difference does it make?
But a difference was felt and experienced all the while
To look someone in the eye, but speak through a mask
‘Twas hard to tell a smirk from a smile,
O’, never for this did the world ask.
People took to the internet, and over the cyber-waves
Met, conversed and chatted about Covid-19;
How it had changed their lives, yet how little it mattered
Consoling themselves, perhaps believing this was always destined.
Lockdowns suddenly meant more time on one’s hands
But with every hour, work expanded to fill all that space
Work from home became a trending hashtag,
While the search for a vaccine, a global race.
Across the world, there were no places to meet
Restaurants and bars were closed for months
Some shuttered forever, along with theatres
And people wondered if they could step out, just this once.
Shut inside their homes, they searched the internet desultorily
To be sure, there were concerts, ballets and plays streaming
Some exulted while others complained and groaned
If this is what is meant to give our lives more meaning.
People who worked in certain businesses were dismayed
Their lives teetering on the edge of when
The lockdown will end, or the vaccine be found
And whether they will still have their jobs then
For their work depended on people being able to meet
Person-to-person and face-to-face
Covid-19 had cast such a spell, a curse,
There seemed little chance of reviving social grace.
(Inspired by Diane and Acteon in Ovid's Metamorphoses)

6. Enough, O comrades, for to-day of spoil
Hath Fortune given: with blood of slaughtered beasts
Our nets and weapons reek. To-morrow morn
Aurora from her saffron car shall see
The chase renewed.”
- Actaeon in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Book III, Lines 172-176
“Her beauties sidelong turned, with wrathful look
Askance upon the intruder. Oh! for one
Of all her arrows now! The neighbouring stream
Supplied the want. With vengeful hand she dashed
Against his manly cheek and o’er his brow
The gathered drops, and terrible his doom
Foreboding—” Go! ” she cried, ” and, if thy tongue “
Can shape the tale, tell how thou sawest once
A Goddess naked!“
- Actaeon and Diana in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Book III, Lines 217-225
“Poor fugitive!
He flies the very followers whom his cheer
Was wont to urge, along the very tracks
Himself so oft pursuing trod! And ” Hold! “
He would have cried—” Actaeon I! your Lord! “
Do ye not know me? “—But the words refused
His will. The baying of the eager hounds
Rang deafening.”
- Actaeon in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Book III, Lines 269-276
Diana and Actaeon by Titian from Wikimedia Commons

7. Through the raging pandemic, there were some
Who paid no heed to all the warnings out there.
‘Twas beneath their dignity to wear masks or stay away
Do we know any, that acted like they didn’t care?
When this is all over and the pandemic ends
When vaccines are here, and the pall of gloom is lifted
We know not how many will remain our friends
But we hope that many with better sense will be gifted.
The Death of Actaeon by Titian; Image: Wikimedia Commons

8. When first the ill winds from Wuhan blew
Carrying with them, the strains of the coronavirus
Few thought it was anything more than a flu
And that with warmer weather, it would soon be behind us.
The WHO warned that people should take heed
Of new rules like mask wearing and social distancing
But there were some who thought there was no need
To sacrifice their freedoms for a phase that was only passing.
Listen, to those who understand the science
Listen, to those gasping for breath
Can we not see the millions falling to the virus,
Simply by being in company, by stealth?
Pray listen to the voice of reason as it speaks
From time-tested knowledge of what we know not
Else all become easy prey, to disease
Listen to the words of experience, it’s all we have got.
The skies roiled with clouds of despair
The winds carried the virus to newer lands
The seas roared as if the virus was calling from its lair
While the scientists toiled with their heads and their hands.
There were some studying the cause of the virus
And how it jumped from animals to man
And others were creating vaccines to save us
If only the world would stay home until then.
Listen, to the wise folks conducting their clinical trials
See hope rise like the morning sun
Stages 1, 2 and 3, in tiny doses and vials
Too bad, it still wouldn’t save everyone.
Every now and then, the grumbling voices in the dark
Would rise to celebrate their freedom and right to roam free
Make no mistake, these were no cries of the lark
These were those who simply refused to see.
Try as they did to drown the voices of reason and hope
They could not stop the steady march of science
It was more than the unbelievers could cope with
But this is not how the story ends
For with entire families, kith and kin
Cities, states and countries were affected
The virus seemed to be more vicious on the darker of skin
As they lived in neighbourhoods most congested.
Like the search for a vaccine, orders too were a race
Countries placed orders like there was no tomorrow
Vaccine makers simply couldn’t keep pace
They regretted it would cause more sorrow.
The science skeptics were joined by the anti-vaxxers
Who would wax eloquent on its imagined threats
Prevention or poison, which you preferred
Depended on who you listened to, only hastening the deaths.
(Inspired by Deucalion and Pyrrha in Ovid's Metamorphoses)

9. For I, believe me, if the wave
Had whelmed thee, wife beloved, in
that same wave
Following had whelmed myself ! Oh,
that I now
That art paternal knew, to people
fresh
The Earth, and give to plastic clay a
soul!
Now in us twain alone remains the
race
Of mortals—so the Gods have
willed. We two
Survive, the sole example of
Mankind.”
Deucalion to Pyrrha in Ovid’s
Metamorphoses, Book I, Lines 422-429
And “Oh,” they say, ” if ever prayer sincere
Had power to bend or win the Gods, or soothe
The wrath of Heaven, tell, Goddess dread, what art
May mend this ruin of our race, and, kind
As powerful, aid us in our sore distress!”
Deucalion and Pyrrha in Ovid’s Metamorphoses Book I, Lines 440-445
“Then, not unmoved, the Goddess
spake “Depart
“My shrine, and, with veiled head and
vest ungirt,
Behind you fling your mighty Mother’s
bones!
…
But, pondering long
The hidden meaning of the oracular
voice,
Dark with mysterious phrase,
Prometheus’ son
Some comfort spies, and, cheerful, to
the child
Of Epimetheus— “Or my judgment
fails,
Or this mysterious bidding of the Gods
May well be done—for Heaven
commands no crime.
Our mighty Mother is the Earth : —
these stones
Upon her surface strewn the Goddess
calls,
Methinks, her bones—’tis these she
bids us fling.”
Deucalion and Pyrrha in Ovid’s
Metamorphoses, Book I, Lines 440-461
Deucalion and Pyrrha, a sketch by Peter Paul Rubens from Wikimedia Commons

10. O listen, do listen to the voices of reason immense
They can alleviate suffering and cure us all
O listen to the advice that makes good sense
And before the virus, we need not fall.
Listen, for hope that spreads even faster
Now that help is at hand
Listen, for we can prevent disaster
In each and every land.
Deucalion and Pyrrha by Giovanni Benedetto Castiglione,
Image: Wikimedia Commons

11. ‘Tis been over a year now that
The Covid-19 virus has ravaged the world
Laying everyone low and flat
In its path, through which it whirled
Entire cities were forced into lockdown
Not once, not twice, but time and again
The poor were forced out of job and town
While the rich it seems had plenty to gain.
Like Daedalus, many said they would fight
To be free and roam wherever they pleased
In the markets the rich found their flight
And they wove their dreams of golden fleece
Poor ordinary folk, cramped into the city’s
Nooks, crannies and crevices, teeming
Consoled themselves with ditties
That others thought was day-dreaming.
The rich worked from home, or wherever they wished
They lived their lives on the internet.
The poor, whether they farmed or they fished
Or worked in factories, you could always bet
Had no choice but to get to work
To earn their livelihoods
If they were lucky to keep their work
And look after their broods.
And that is not all that they suffered
For their employers were forced to down shutters
If not because of a lockdown, one heard
Then because there were no customers.
Many were at the mercy of bosses
And their plans of staying open
Who, considering they were looking at losses,
Were probably wondering when.
The wealthy and privileged stayed home
Cocooned in their nests, freshly feathered
With the spoils of the stock-market boom
Wondering when more would come their way, not whether.
They made plans for their next generation scions
And future growth trajectories
Not realizing that consumer demand of days halcyon
Came from people working in their factories.
Meanwhile, scientists dazzled the world
With their brilliance, and delighted over the world’s first Covid vaccines,
But over the next few weeks, what unfurled
Told of pharma companies’ and rich countries’ greed.
Oh, we can’t possibly make many more
At the rate that we first projected
And we can’t send any to other shores
Until our own are fully protected.
(Inspired by Icarus from Ovid's Metamorphoses)

12. Daedalus, at exile chafing now
Too long, and yearning for his native shores,
The Sea in Crete held prisoner. “Land and wave”
He cried, ” deny me way! But Heaven above
Lies open! Heaven shall bear me home! All else
May Minos bar—he cannot bar the air!”
The story of Icarus in Ovid’s Metamorphoses Book VIII,
Lines 209-214
So spake he, and to arts unheard-of yet,
Passing the force of Nature, bent his thought;
And wings he framed, from short to longer quill
With gradual slope expanding, – as the Swan
Fits to his rustic pipe the unequal reeds, —
With thread the longer binding and with wax
The shorter, to such arch, as curves the wings
Of very birds, inclined.
The story of Icarus in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Book VIII,
Lines 215-222
Then he taught the boy
Their use: and “Midway keep thy course,” he said
“My Icarus, I warn thee! or, too low,
The damps will clog thy pinions, or, too high,
The heat relax them. Midway hold thy flight,
Not dare too near to soar where Helice
Shines dangerous, or Bootes, or the sword
That decks Orion’s glittering belt. By mine
Thy course direct!”
The story of Icarus in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Book VIII,
Lines 230-238
The Flight of Icarus, by Jacob Peter Gowy (1635-37) from Wikimedia Commons

13. Many poor countries haven’t received their vaccines
While rich ones are flying full-steam ahead
To protect their elderly and frail by all means
Poor, coloured people, probably not yet.
India has billions at home to inoculate
And vaccines for the world galore
The world’s richest country is in such a state
Stars and stripes, they don’t mean much anymore.
Blondel's decoration of the Rotunda Apollo at the Louvre, depicting
The Fall of Icarus, Image: Wikimedia Commons

14. Now, when the virus raged through many a land
Gripping everyone it could touch,
Such that few escaped its feverish hand
People were bound to make much.
They appealed to every person they met
Oh, save us please, with whatever
You have and can set
To deliver us from this forever.
The scientists invented miracles in their labs
And had words of advice to proffer
The world waited to receive vaccine jabs
It seemed there simply wasn’t enough on offer.
Meanwhile, hospitals were running out
Of vital, life-giving, oxygen
Prolonging the raging virus bout
Nobody could say for how long, or when.
We can’t breathe, said Indian patients on life-support
Sending authorities into a tizzy
Please send O2, cried doctors who were holding fort
While chaos turned into a frenzy.
Entire cities were gasping for breath
Medicines and vaccines in short supply
Seemed there was no hope but death
From a virus mutant raging high.
Virus? What virus, tis only a flu
Said some leaders in high places
Second wave? Not in India, cannot be true
We drove it away said some with poker faces.
No oxygen? What about the funds that we
So carefully raised and disbursed?
Of course, we care, can you not see
It’s best you stay calm, lest it get worse.
Meanwhile virtual conferences were on in full swing
Meetings of leaders presiding over our fates
Summer, autumn, winter, or spring
Hoarding vaccines well beyond their use by dates.
India, the world’s vaccine supplier
Would now be funded by the Quad
To make vaccines for countries, including the poorer
Wouldn’t that be great, good god.
It’s easy to throw money at the problem
Much harder to share ingredients and know-how
It’s each rich country first,
As we all know by now.
And as the leaders their images burnish,
In love with their accomplishments
Let us not our minds furnish
With undue praise and compliments.
(Inspired by Narcissus from Ovid's Metamorphoses)

15. “All grace of form and colour, lily and rose
Due blended :—and each charm, that ever moved
The love of others, loves. Himself inspires
His passion :—all he praises is his own.
Wooing and wooed, the flame he yearns to raise…
Yet finds, and burns for what he sees, though what
He sees he fails to recognise, nor knows
What error ’tis that cheats and fascinates
His eyes.”
The Story of Narcissus from Ovid’s Metamorphoses Book
III, Lines 508-520
“The clearing wave that colour mock, nor more
Endured it, but, as waxen torch dissolves
Beneath the flame, or frost of morning hoar
Melts in the breaking sun, so, passion-worn
And with that inward fire consumed, his frame
Wasted and faded into naught – nor charm
Remained of lily and rose, nor strength, nor use
Of limb, nor vestige of that form which moved”
The Story of Narcissus in Ovid’s Metamorphoses,
Book III, Lines 584-591
“And now they would have buried him
The pile, the torch, were there – but where’s the corpse?
A flower alone was all they found, whose heart
Blazed golden ‘mid a circlet of white leaves.”
The Story of Narcissus from Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Book III,
Lines 610-613
Narcissus by Caravaggio (1594-96); Image: Wikimedia Commons

16. For vain are populist leaders, who feign
Care and devotion for their populace
We know ‘tis only for electoral gain,
And fear of falling from grace.
Who knows what new flower will sprout
From millions of lesser mortals’ funeral pyres
And the tears that fell all about;
Will it be the coronavyres?
Echo and Narcissus by John William Waterhouse, Image: Wikimedia Commons

17. Now, as the coronavirus ravaged the land,
Another kind too was at sway
The kind that never warns us and
Only draws us towards the meteoric way
Driven by greed and gluttony
It makes us consume all we desire
With never a thought for the progeny
It is today, that we must climb higher.
In the old days, man worked in factories
Producing goods that we all needed
Now, he tends to animals as an industry
Fattening them for the overly well-fed.
Our farms work for meat factories
Let there be no doubt
Wonder what people will do for stories
When this pandemic is out.
Little wonder, our rivers run dry
And our forests are aflame
Our land not to till for man, but why
Oh why, for animals to tame.
Earth scorching, ice caps melting
And seas that rise ever higher
Drown our cities unforgiving
Leaping on the other side, are forest fires.
Perhaps they will tell them of how
Loudly the birds sang, when we
Were indoors for months on end, and now,
For fear of Covid and he, she, you and me.
Perhaps they will tell them about
Dolphins swimming in our waters
Skies so blue we only dreamed about
While cattle on our streets did saunter.
These roamed free, but not the ones on ranches
Fattened for the greed of man and slaughter
For them, entire forests are mowed down in tranches
What a drain they are on both land and water
And the air, oh it will fill with methane
And gases more poisonous than CO2
If we aren’t rightly weighing our losses and gain
More pandemics like Covid will be ours to rue.
Bedtime tales are all very well
How the pandemic ends
Depends, though no one can quite tell
On who to whose will, bends.
Man and earth, they must
Have a new contract,
Else all will be dust;
There’s no better time to act.
(Inspired by Phaeton in Ovid's Metamorphoses)

18. Scarce uttered was the promise, when the youth
Demands his father’s car, and, for one day,
The rein and guidance of its winged steeds.
Then rued the God his oath, and thrice and once
Shaking his radiant head, ” Alas! thy speech
“Proves mine too rash!” he cried, “Would yet my boon “
I could deny, for thou the one sole thing “
Hast asked I would not grant thee. O my son, “
Let me dissuade, if not refuse.
Thy wish ” Is fraught with peril! ‘Tis no little thing”
Thou seek’st, my Phaeton! a trust for heads “
And years like thine unfitting. Mortal, thou “
Immortal function dar’st affect, and more “
Than all Heaven’s Gods may venture.
The story of Phaeton from Ovid’s Metamorphoses Book II,
Lines 56-69
The ruin… Ganges warmed,
And Phasis, and Danubius. All thy waves
Alpheiis, boiled and bubbled, and thy banks,
Spercheius, glowed. Tagus his golden freight
Rolled melted to the sea…
To the world’s utmost end
Fled Nilus, burying deep in earth his head,
Ne’er since to light restored; his mouths remain,
Rivers no more, mere valleys, dry with dust.
The Story of Phaeton from Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Book II, Lines 274-296
But loud he thunders, and, with right hand high
Uplifted, on the hapless charioteer
Lets fly the bolt of fire, and hurls him down
Headlong at once from car and life, and quells
The fires with fire more potent. Terror strikes
The steeds, and backward hounding from their
necks
The yoke they dash, and spurn the broken reins
… here what fragments else Strewed piecemeal
of the car.
The Story of Phaeton from Ovid’s Metamorphoses,
Book II, Lines 355-369.
Phaeton by Gustave Moreau (1878) part of
the Louvre Museum collection;
Image: Wikimedia Commons

19. The middle kingdom from where the pandemic began
Celebrates a hundred glorious years of its party
While the rest of the world reels as the virus fans
In successive waves, as it proves to be too crafty.
The country is back on its feet again, and trade
Too is healthy with demand soaring
The growth is real and unlikely to fade
While debt too is growing.
Elsewhere too, countries are once again opening
Their doors and stepping out
While they also welcome those travelling
Vaccinated and unlikely to catch a new bout
This has caused many a conflict between
The vaccinated and those in line
The leaders and the largely unseen
The unwell and those fine.
In India, the numbers of cases are on the rise
With our large population, it is to be expected
With new daily cases at 50,000 is it any surprise
That the virus is nowhere near defeated.
In fact, more vaccines are needed than
Manufacturers can supply
It is not a question of if, but when
The vaccination rate will fly.
Like it has in several other countries
From Israel and US to UK and Europe
Helping them relax the travel freeze
Bringing millions new hope.
However, conflict continues to rumble
Between political leaders of various stripe
Those who don’t want covid mandates grumble
While others shrug off those not their type.
There are serious matters to do with work
About returning to the office or not
Companies keen to retain their work culture
And those who don’t give a jot.
Women who have lost their jobs or else
Had to stay home for their children’s sake
With schools and colleges shut
There is simply too much at stake.
The numbers of unemployed are rising
While employers can’t find people
They need, and if that’s not surprising
There is the digital technology pull
Meanwhile the virus lingers
Long enough to keep people worried
It attacks when one least expects it
Vaccination, it has to be hurried.
(Inspired by Pentheus from Ovid's Metamorphoses)

20. ... or piecemeal torn
I see thy scattered limbs; these woodland shades,
Thy mother’s self, and all her sisters, red
And reeking with thy gore! Thou hear’st thy fate!
For well I know thy madness will deny
The Deity his right. But, in that hour,
Remember how a Seer, though blind, could see!”
The Story of Pentheus from Ovid’s Metamorphoses Book III,
Lines 622-633
“Time proved his truth, and what he spake fulfilled.
For Liber comes, foretold. With festal mirth
Of thronging crowds the fields resounds, the press
Still thickens : wife and maiden, man and boy,
Noble and churl, in those new rites to share,
All emulous and eager. “Hold!” the voice
Of Pentheus shouts, “what madness thus, what rage “
Misleads you, you from that old Snake who sprang
Warriors from birth?”
The Story of Pentheus from Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Book III, Lines 636-644
Agave’s glance was first
To mark him: first, with frenzy fired her hand
The thyrsus whirled, and, by a mother’s blow
First wounded bled the son! “Io!” she yelled,
“Io! help, sisters both! The Boar is here
That wastes our fields! Help me the boar to slay!”
With answering yell around him swarms the band
Shrieking and striking!
… Yet still he rears his trunk dismembered
“See,” Mother! “he shrieks, “’tis I, thy son!”
… Whirls scattered, so his body, limb from limb,
By that mad rout lay piecemeal rent and torn.
So, by that lesson taught, the maids of Thebes
The might of Bacchus learned, till now unknown,
And on his altars smoked their incense due.
The Story of Pentheus from Ovid’s Metamorphoses,
Book III, Lines 849-880
Pentheus torn apart by Maenads in a Roman fresco at Pompeii;
Image: Wolfgang Rieger on Wikimedia Commons

21. Last year saw one big election that
Changed the way the US saw the pandemic
This year others face similar tests
Nothing can be taken for granted
As leaders fight over political futures
And the legacy they leave behind
It is the people, tired, wounded and sutured
Who must elect the best they can find.
Pentheus being torn apart by Ino and Agave, lekanis lid circa 450 BC, Louvre, Image: Wikimedia Commons

22. Many a month flew by in every land
From Wuhan in China to Europe and America;
Yet time stood still, unmoved its frozen hand
Similarly in Asia, Africa and Latin America.
For, while people thought the virus gone,
It was back in a new variant before long;
And so it was that Covid-19 was born
Several times, in waves, sweeping the world along
People began to tire of all the tests,
And keeping track of the daily new cases;
They stayed home since it was best
To avoid catching the virus,
Or passing it on,
Even if inadvertently;
No one could think it gone
Not even unwittingly.
The world had to find names for the variants,
For how else could anyone tell which was which;
Alpha, beta, gamma, delta,
The last one like a spell cast by a witch.
It’s been galloping around the world
Since being detected in India, March 2021
And infecting people in its whirl;
Oh, it simply won’t leave folks alone.
Vaccines are the only hope of keeping it at bay,
But not all countries and people have the jab;
So, we just stay home and stay away
While pharma scientists work away at their labs.
It has taken our freedoms away,
Turned us into creatures of stone
By the time it has had its way
It would have worn us down to the bone.
Countries are trying to find a way around it,
Lockdowns are local, and restrictions eased;
With every slight improvement in the numbers affected
The general mood rises, thinking at last, peace.
Till some new outbreak strikes terror in people’s hearts
And crestfallen, they retreat into their shells
Frozen in time and space; no, this is no frieze art,
Everyone wonders when the end of this hell.
Imagine some countries in perpetual lockdown,
With no hope of vaccines ever reaching;
Not enough at any rate for every town
And every person help beseeching.
They will perhaps be locked down forever
Stuck in their homes, condemned
To live their lives out hereafter
Frozen in time, in lands damned.
(Inspired by Perseus from Ovid's Metamorphoses)

23. And Perseus answering told
How ‘neath the snows of Atlas lay a spot,
Fenced round with solid rampart of thick wall,
Beside whose entrance dwelt the sisters, twain
Of Phorcys born, who with alternate use
Between them shared but one sole eye, and how
That orb, from one to other passed, his hand…
And rugged rock, and shaggy wood, to where
Their Sister-Gorgon dwelt; and, on that path
What lifeless shapes of men and beasts he saw
By glance of Medusa petrified…
The Story of Perseus from Ovid’s Metamorphoses Book IV,
Lines 919-931
“Yourselves will have it so! ” He cried
“Then meet your fate! What was my foe
Must friend me now. Comrades! If comrades yet
I have turned hence your eyes!”
And from its shroud The Gorgon-Head he drew. “Hence! Mountebank!”
Cried Thescalus, “On fools and children try “
These juggling tricks!” And, as his lance he poised,
In act to whirl, the man a statue stood!
The Story of Perseus from Ovid’s Metamorphoses Book V, Lines 226-233
Nileus, who from old Egypt’s seven-fold flood
Claimed lying origin, and on his shield,
In silver part wrought and part in gold,
Seven rivers bore, came next. “Behold ” he cried
“The badge that speaks my parentage! And bear
To Hades all such solace as thy Death
From hand like mine may yield!” The later words
Were choked in utterance; and the marble lips,
Open to speak, to no more speech gave way.
The Story of Perseus from Ovid’s Metamorphoses,
Book V, Lines 238-246
The Baleful Head by Edward Burne-Jones (1887) depicting Perseus
and Andromeda, viewing Medusa’s head reflected in a well;
Image: Staatsgalerie Stuttgart on Wikimedia Commons

24. A virus so deadly and yet never seen
Except under the microscope
Can ravage entire lands, so mean
Is its effect, no matter your horoscope;
Initially, people thought it worse on the elderly;
Later as it continued to spread
It attacked people of all ages cleverly,
People lived in constant dread.
Perseus with the head of Medusa by Benvenuto Cellini
(1554, Florence, Image: Wikimedia Commons

25. The lands in the West looked forward
To the vaccines that would deliver
Relief from the virus, and toward
Days more normal, as ever.
The doctors and nurses too endeavoured
To help patients recover
Day and night, they persevered
In selfless pursuit forever.
In the East, though, something worse was brewing
A variant of Covid called Delta
Which, in no time, was spreading
As quickly as a wild fire.
It spread the pandemic in a new wave
Taking it to many shores
The vaccines for now would keep us safe
Who knew how many waves more.
Meanwhile, economies reopened for business
And people returned to work
Central banks kept pumping in money
And that did wonders for stocks.
The wealthy indeed got wealthier
While the poor struggled to get by
Entire industries had been torn asunder
Joblessness still unusually high.
The jobs making advances
Were those nobody wanted
With Delta still avoidable
Why would anyone take chances.
Some hailed the return
Of labour’s bargaining power
But with technology on quick-burn
No telling who would have the shining hour.
Poorer countries fared no better
Few had access to enough vaccines
As rich countries talk of a booster
The poor haven’t had the first jab in.
Which raises an ethical question
For governments and pharma companies
In the West, since they form the bastion
Of controlling the supply of vaccines.
If the rich believe they come first
They are sadly mistaken
For the wealth bubble can burst
Not so the power of healing.
The virus is global and that’s a fact
None is safe until all are protected
Makes sense to donate through Covax
And progress together, unimpeded.
(Inspired by Midas from Ovid's Metamorphoses)

26. Glad for the Sire restored, the grateful God
For guerdon bade the Phrygian name and have
What wish he would, nor knew how thoughtless greed
Could mar and useless make so fair a boon.
Grant,” quoth the eager King, ” whate’er I touch
May turn to gold! And that pernicious gift
So pledged the Godhead granted, sad at heart
To find the fool lack wit for wiser choice.
The story of Midas in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Book XI,
Lines 127-134
Rich beyond hope and wretched past despair
Loathing the wealth he cannot choose but coin,
Cursing the boon that but an hour ago
He prayed for, stood the wretch, his hungry maw
Unfed, his fevered gullet parched with thirst,
Starving, with torment not unmerited
The story of Midas, Ovid’s Metamorphoses Book XI, Lines 165-170
The kindly Godhead heard the fault confessed,
Nor loth to cancel what but for the faith
Of promise pledged he ne’er had ratified,
Revoked the boon, and set the suppliant free.
Yet this, he said, “ere of this golden-taint
Self-sought thou purge thee thoroughly, must thou do:
Seek out the stream that flows by Sardis’ walls;
And, facing still its downward course, ascend
The steepy hills that bank it, till thou reach
Its source, and where the fount flows freest plunge
Thy head, and cleanse thy body and thy guilt! “
The story of Midas, Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Book XI,
Lines 176-186
The Judgement of Midas by Andrea Schiavone (1548-50), of Midas judging a
music contest between Apollo and Pan; Image: Wikimedia Commons

27. More than a year has passed
Since the virus first struck
Unsuspecting people everywhere massed
Against an enemy without any luck.
Until science came to the rescue
And helped armour us with vaccines
Giving medicine its full due
Never did the world see such vulnerable beings.
Waves of the pandemic spread from here to there
There was no escape it seemed for mankind
Through travel and contact, the virus trapped us in its lair
What terrible loss of life, millions trapped in such a bind.
Delta proved the most hardened variant
No fight against it was tough as steel
It spread the fastest against the most valiant
Fighting it became our Achilles’ heel.
Like Achilles who couldn’t kill Neptune’s son
The conventional way, we too will have to try
Ways beyond vaccines, even with boosters done
Even though borders are reopening, beckoning us to fly.
Staying masked, distant and at home
As much as our life permits
Is the life we are getting used to
Living like digital nomads or hermits.
Never assuming we’re invulnerable
Or invincible in this fight
Defence can sometimes be a form of attack
Avoiding confrontation and the plight.
Reducing the chances of contracting
What can be a lethal virus
Hoping that mitigating its transmitting
Might eventually deliver us.
Other measures require our consideration
Like boosting our immunity levels
Meat consumption too calls for moderation
All ways of keeping away the evils
That we have allowed to ruin our lives
And the planet we depend upon
Time to reexamine our lives
And urgently reduce the harm we pass on.
That doesn’t mean vaccines ought to be ignored
Nor should we dismiss the virus as a seasonal flu
On the contrary we need to produce and share much more
A cavalier attitude just won’t do.
If it is long Covid we are destined for, so be it.
Let us at least defend our health
It requires all of us to do our bit,
Fighting the dreaded enemy with stealth.
(Inspired by Achilles and Cygnus in Ovid's Metamorphoses)

28. Sigaeum’s strand was red with gore: — the Son of Neptune,
Cygnus, with a thousand deaths
Had thinned the Grecian host, when through the ranks
Of Hion, from his car with Pelian spear
Wide dealing death, Achilles crashed, and, chief
With Hector or with Cygnus hot to cope,
With Cygnus first encountered, Hector’s fall
To the long war’s last year, the Fates deferred.
Achilles and Cygnus from Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Book XII, Lines
99-106
Cygnus cried
“Contemptuous, that thy weapon draws no blood?
This helm whose nodding horse-hair fans my brows,
This shield whose bossy burden loads my arm,
Are but mere warrior-trappings, borne for show,
Not need. So Mars for ornament alone
Superfluous harness wears. Strip me of all
This idle casing, and invulnerable “
I front thee still – of no mere Nereid born…”
Achilles and Cygnus from Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Book XII, Lines 116-124
Fierce from the battered helm the thong he tore,
And tight below his chin, with strangling noose
Compressed, all issue choked of breath and life;
And would have spoiled the course, but lo! a shell
Of empty arms was all his triumph found!
Cygnus had vanished, by his Sea-God Sire
To that white bird transformed that bears his name!
Achilles and Cygnus from Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Book XII,
Lines 191-197
Achilles’ mother, Thetis, dipping him in the river Styx, by Peter
Paul Rubens ( 1625) at the Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen in
Rotterdam; Image: Wikimedia Commons

29. As the Covid-19 pandemic waxed and waned
Through the many months, as though they were seasons
There were indeed some who deigned
To fight it with the forces of reason
Others too content to spread fear
Denied it was ever a problem
When it got out of control, dear,
They pretended it was indeed solemn.
What the rest of the people were
To make of the confusion that reigned
Was enough to spread more fear
Than was necessary to contain
A virus so virulent and lethal
It struck entire populations hard
Both physical and psychological
No effort could be spared, from the start.
The brave ones were at work
Quietly in their lab coats and protective gear
They were not willing to shirk
Efforts that could save lives each year.
Every day, week and month chimed
As if on a clock
It was a race against time
The one thing that wasn’t in stock.
The fight was also between lockdowns
And reopening economies for business
Vaccines attracted both relief and frowns
When they were the route to success
Against this mighty adversary
That would not be tamed
It soon became necessary
To fight variants, no matter how named.
Leaders of rich countries wanted booster doses
And their little ones to be vaccinated
When poorer countries hadn’t had their first doses
And the pandemic was exacerbated
It didn’t matter how hard the brave fought
This was simply the way it had to be
All their valiant efforts come to nought
Because the rich must have their way, you see.
Not to be deterred, the pharma companies
Simply keep churning out new drugs
The rate of new discoveries
Is, of course, hard to shrug
When not enough have access to them
What should the heroes do?
Fall on their sword at the helm,
Like Ajax was wont to do?
Inspired by Ajax in Ovid's Metamorphoses

30. He cried “Before your ships ye judge this cause,
And, with those ships in sight, Ulysses dares
To stand my Rival! Where was he, when fierce
With torch and brand raged Hector on the shore
‘Twas I who saved them—I who drove him back!”
The speech of Ajax from Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Book XIII, Lines 6-11
Can vouch no witness save himself and Night.
‘Tis no mean stake we play for—true: —but this,
My rival, cheapens it! whate’er its worth
Poor toast it is to me to bear away
A prize that such as he may hope to win: —
And for Ulysses more than praise enough “
That, beaten as he was, the world shall say
He coped with Ajax! — For myself, if deeds
Were lacked or valour doubtful, birth and race
Speak trumpet-tongued…”
The speech of Ajax from Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Book XIII, Lines 17-27
What folly bids thee seek
This worse than useless prize? If, sore misled,
Greece held thy claim the better, of what boot
Would be the boon —To make thee robbed, not feared;
Thy foes would spoil and mock thee! Or thy speed
In flight—wherein above all living men
I hold thee paramount, and there alone,
“Would fail thee, weak with that heroic weight!
The speech of Ajax from Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Book XIII,
Lines 144-151.
Sorrowful Ajax by Jacob Carstens (1791) from Wikimedia Commons

31. And so it was that two years went by
With the pandemic showing little signs
Of slowing, but raging on high
Past the ever-watchful eyes of science
It almost seemed to cock a snook at them
Saying catch me if you can
Oblivious to all the mayhem
It had already caused and fanned.
Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Lambda
We might soon run out of letters in our lexicon
As the coronavirus dares us
Delta and now, the Omicron
How many more aliases will it take
For us to find a proven cure?
How many more disguises can it make
Before we call it out for sure?
Two years of this never-ending ordeal
We can count them simply as 730 days
Or 300 million worldwide as ill as they feel
And over 5 million deaths
Whichever way one looks at it
It is laying too many lives to waste
We can’t choose to ignore it
Act, and we can never be accused of doing so in haste.
Medicines, they’re being invented every day
The vaccines too are having their effect
However, too few are making their way
To the poorest people to make any impact
Africa is once again the continent
That the world is forgetting to include
In the vaccination footprint
And we know the results of that can be rude.
In a globalized world, it takes nothing
For a virus to travel the world
And everyone in its path, it is infecting
Spreads it to everyone else they spoke to, or heard
Right now, it is believed that Omicron
Is highly transmissible
If Africa is where it came from
Should vaccine inequity be permissible?
Like the plague of Aegina
We too need myrmidons among us
Who will step forth and endeavour
Through care and thoughtfulness
To spread the benefits of medicine
Equally across the world
For each plague and pandemic has its lesson
To teach and to unfurl.
Inspired by the Plague of Aegina in Ovid's Metamorphoses

32. With direful plague
The wrath of Juno smote the isle that bears
Her hated Rival’s name. While yet the ill
Seemed such as man might cope with, nor its cause
Was known, with all resource of healing art
We met it; but its deadly force o’erpowered
All skill, and baffled Medicine fled the field.
The story of the plague of Aegina from Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Book
VII, Lines 645-651
When care might naught avail, the multitude
Gave licence to the burning thirst that raged
Within them: prostrate by the founts and streams
Or round the wells they grovelled, swilling Death
In greedy draughts, and, impotent to rise,
Died in the wave they drank, that not, even so
Polluted, scared fresh thirsters from its flood!
The story of the plague of Aegina from Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Book VII,
Lines 692-699
The new-born subjects hailed their King! To Jove,
Due thanks I paid; —my desolate town, my fields
Untilled, were stocked afresh: —and Myrmidons,
In memory of their origin, I named
The race. Thyself hast marked their port: —they keep
The habits of their birth, a frugal tribe,
Inured to toil, that wastes not what it wins,
But stores it, provident of future need.
The story of the plague of Aegina from Ovid’s
Metamorphoses, Book VII, Lines 795-802
The Plague of Rome by Jules Elie Delaunay courtesy
the Minneapolis Institute of Arts on Wikimedia Commons

33. These Ovid in the Time of Covid pieces
appeared as monthly features on my blog,
www.peripateticperch.com in 2021.
The lines quoted from Ovid's Metamorphoses
are based on a William Blackwood and Sons
edition of The Metamorphoses of Publius
Ovidius Naso translated by Henry King,
digitised by Google from the University of
Michigan Library.
The images used in this compilation, as on
my blog, are from Wikimedia Commons,
as mentioned in the image captions.
A wise-eyed view of the world
The Golden Age by Lucas Cranach the Elder, from Wikimedia Commons
www.peripateticperch.com
Written and designed by Geeta Sundaram