Meta Description: Join Ad Navseam Ep. 195 as Dr. David Noe and Dr. Jeff Winkle explore Ovidian vignettes, from the tragic tale of Aesacus to the wooing of Pomona and Vertumnus.


Welcome back, classical gourmands, to episode 195 of the Ad Navseam podcast! Prepare to get your fill with another delectable discussion of Greco-Roman civilization, tracing the profound depths of antiquitas straight through to the present day.

Broadcasting directly from the bunker—Parnassus Vomitorium Central, the true belly button of the world—your devoted hosts return to the microphones. Today, we get a delightful explanation of their middle initials. Dr. Jeffrey T. Winkle claims the “T” stands for Thomas. Not only is it his actual middle name, but it also perfectly foreshadows our focus on Ovid, who spent his final exiled years in Tomis (or Thomas) on the Black Sea, courtesy of a carmen et error (a song and a mistake).

Meanwhile, Dr. David C. Noe explains his “C” stands for “Catalectic.” In poetic meter, a catalectic line is symmetrically incomplete, missing one or more syllables at the end—a fitting metaphor for his self-described unfinished thoughts!

Mouth Stones and Hot Girl Walks

Before diving into the heavy lifting, the hosts trade stories about navigating the strange new world of modern slang. Dave shares a recent trip to the dentist where his hygienist repeatedly used the word “gorge” (short for gorgeous) to describe his dental habits. Channeling the famous Nathan Pyle Strange Planet comics, the hygienist essentially asked if he was “pushing string” (flossing) to protect his “mouth stones” (teeth).

Jeff counters with a hilarious classroom anecdote. A chatty student recently interrupted a mythology lecture to ask what kind of shoes Professor Winkle prefers for his “Hot Girl Walks” (HGW), wanting to know about his “drip.” Bewildered by the terminology, Jeff pragmatically answered that he owns exactly two pairs of shoes and chooses whichever pair is physically closer to the door.

Drawings, Corrections, and Classical Poetry

Next up, the hosts draw the winner for a beautiful Hackett Plato reader, edited by C.D.C. Reeve. Using a random number generator, the lucky number seven goes to Estella M. from Canada! Congratulations, Estella.

Dave also issues a rare “self-correction.” In a previous episode, he confidently used the Greek equivalent of the Latin phrase ni fallor (if I am not mistaken). Unfortunately, he mistakenly used the active Greek ending (ei me pseudomen) instead of the proper passive ending (ei me pseudomai). It caused him sleepless nights, but the record is finally set straight.

This week’s listener shout-out goes to the Reverend Gregory E. Reynolds from Manchester, New Hampshire. A pastor emeritus and editor of the Ordained Servant journal, Gregory is spending his semi-retirement diving deep into classical literature. He is currently tackling Dante, Homer, Augustine, and Cochrane’s Christianity and Classical Culture. Gregory noted that to understand modern poets like Robert Frost, T.S. Eliot, and John Keats, one must follow the procession down the ages—which led him straight to Ad Navseam. We are thrilled to be your guides, Gregory!

Returning to Ovid: Aesacus and Hesperia

The core of today’s episode revolves around two new Ovidian vignettes from the Metamorphoses. The podcast has built an expanding catalog of Ovid episodes over the years—covering everything from Daedalus and Icarus to King Midas, Niobe, and Erysichthon. Today, we add to that rich tapestry, starting with the tragic story of Aesacus and Hesperia from the end of Book 11.

Aesacus is a Trojan prince, the half-brother of Hector and Paris. He is a seer who interpreted Hecuba’s ominous dream about giving birth to a flaming torch. Ovid characterizes Aesacus as a boy who despised the city and the gleaming palace halls, preferring to live entirely in the remote countryside. Dave points out the Aristotelian danger here: while a love of nature is fine, scorning civilization entirely shows a dangerous lack of moderation.

Aesacus’s rural life is upended when he spots the river nymph Hesperia drying her hair on the riverbank (a scene Dave likens to a slow-motion shampoo commercial). He is instantly overcome by amor (passionate desire) and gives chase. Hesperia, terrified, runs from him. Ovid provides two masterful epic similes for the pursuit: she flees like a frightened deer from a tawny wolf, and like a duck winging away from a hawk. The latter is a clever piece of foreshadowing, hinting at Aesacus’s impending avian fate.

Tragically, just like Eurydice in the Orpheus myth, Hesperia’s flight ends when she steps on a hidden snake. The venom takes her life instantly.

The Birth of the Diver Bird

Overcome with deep remorse, Aesacus realizes his pursuit caused her death. In a highly dramatic, very human moment, he hurls himself off a towering sea cliff to end his life. However, the sea goddess Tethys takes pity on him. As he plummets, his fall decelerates, and he is covered in feathers.

Instead of being grateful for the rescue, Aesacus is utterly enraged that he is forced to live. Transformed into a bird, he repeatedly flies up and dives headlong into the sea, constantly attempting to drown himself. Because of this endless, frantic plunging, he becomes the mergus (the diver bird, likely a gull or cormorant), a creature whose long, starved legs and slender neck reflect the physical toll of his unrequited love and grief.

Pomona and Vertumnus: The Ultimate Wingman

The second vignette, found in Book 14, offers a rare Ovidian treat: a love story that is actually requited! Furthermore, it is a uniquely Italian myth with likely Etruscan origins, free from the heavy Greek baggage of the earlier books.

Pomona is a dryad who is entirely devoted to the cultivation of orchards. She loves the civilized process of pruning, grafting, and irrigating. Fearing the aggressive lust of the woodland gods, she shuts herself away behind the walls of her orchard, rejecting the advances of Satyrs, Pan, Silvanus, and Priapus.

Enter Vertumnus, the shape-shifting god of the changing seasons and the autumn harvest. Rather than chasing her through the woods like Aesacus, Vertumnus uses cunning and persuasion. He visits her in a variety of disguises—a reaper carrying a basket of barley ears (which Jeff equates to a box of Grape-Nuts), a soldier, a fisherman, and a pruner. He tries to subtly show her that they share common interests, but to no avail.

Finally, he takes a deeply unsettling approach: he disguises himself as a hunched old woman. He enters the orchard, admires the fruit, and kisses Pomona a little too passionately. Sitting beside an elm tree entwined with a grapevine, the disguised Vertumnus becomes a sylvan Cicero, delivering a highly persuasive horticultural metaphor. He tells Pomona that the elm without the vine is useless, and the vine without the elm would simply lie on the ground. Together, joined in “marriage,” they are fruitful.

The Power of Being Yourself

Vertumnus (still disguised as the old woman) then utilizes mythological parallels, flattering Pomona by claiming she would have more suitors than Helen of Troy or Penelope. Finally, he makes a direct pitch for self-interest, playing the role of his own ultimate “wingman.” The old woman tells Pomona to reject all other suitors and choose the local boy, Vertumnus. He is loyal, he doesn’t have a wandering eye, and he loves the exact same harvest gifts she does!

The old woman concludes the pitch with the cautionary tale of Iphis and Anaxarete, warning Pomona of the terrible consequences of scorning true love. When the story fails to move her, Vertumnus finally drops the disguise. He appears in his true, glowing, divine form, fully prepared to take her by force if necessary.

Yet, violence is entirely avoided. Captivated by his true form, Pomona feels a mutual passion. As Jeff points out, the modern moral of this ancient Roman tale is surprisingly simple: just be yourself!

On a literary note, the hosts mention that C.S. Lewis likely borrowed the name for his famous Narnian faun, Mr. Tumnus, from this exact myth. While the original Vertumnus is decidedly less wholesome than his Narnian counterpart, the mythological echo is undeniable.

Sponsors and Support

Just as the hosts prepare to wrap up, a loud banging at the door interrupts them! The American Ornithological Society (AOS) and the Wilson Ornithological Society (WOS) have arrived, highly agitated by the podcast’s harsh treatment of the mergus gull and the Kingfisher! Eager to avoid a “flap,” Dave and Jeff make a quick exit.

Before fleeing the bunker, they extend a massive thank you to the sponsors keeping Ad Navseam operational!

If you want to dive into the languages of antiquity, head over to latinperdiem.com. Whether you are looking for the ab initio LLPSI Latin courses or joining the Friday “Moffice Hours” for Greek, Dr. Noe will guide you through the texts. Use the code 10PLUS for 10% off any order.

Credits & Gustatory Parting Shot

A huge thank you goes out to the podcast’s audio wizard, Mishka, for her top-tier engineering, and to Jeff Scheetz for bringing the ultimate rock energy to the intro with his track, Thrillseeker, as well as his fantastic bumper music, Rush Hour.

We leave you today with our Gustatory Parting Shot, pulled from Josh Barkan’s book, Mexico:

“It may sound crazy. But people like to eat what they are. If they have voracious habits, they can’t change. They like sweet foods. If they are tight with their money, they prefer to eat bread and mashed potatoes. If they are flamboyant, they like to eat elaborately thin vegetables, fried and piled up high like a fancy hat. We are all cannibals eating the secrets we have within.”

Thanks for reading, and be sure to catch the next episode as the hosts return to H.I. Marrou for Part 17 of A History of Education in Antiquity!

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