"But when the sun's bright beams fierce
thirst in spire,
And shrill cicada all the woodlands tire,
Then, to deep well and spreading
water guide,
Or oaken troughs by living rills supplied."
-Virgil's Georgic III 29 BCE
My middle son came in all excited to have discovered this ball of sap that he'd found on one of our trees in the backyard. As we examined it I realized that top blob of hardening sap had perfectly captured many details of a cicada. How this could have happened I am not sure, but what a special find!
Did you know that the ancient Greek culture had a soft spot for these loud, humming bugs? The Greek poets wrote about them using them as a symbol of life, death and love. They thought that they only needed dew and air to survive. The cicada is mentioned in the poem of the Iliad and in the story of Tithonus, who essentially is turned into a cicada when eternal youth wasn't able to be granted in tandem with eternal life. The Greeks seem to have loved the humble cicada so much they even kept them as pets.
This poem from the collection of Anacreontea (translated by Egan) around 1 B.C. and 6 C.E. shows the admiration for the summer treasure of the cicada.
"We know that you are royally blest
Cicada when, among the tree-tops,
You sip some dew and sing your song;
For every single thing is yours
That you survey among the fields
And all the things the woods produce.
The farmers' constant company,
You damage nothing that is theirs;
Esteemed you are by every human
As the summer's sweet-voiced prophet.
Muses love you, and Apollo too,
Who's gifted you with high pitched song.
Old age does nothing that can wear you,
Earth's sage and song-enamored son;
You suffer not, being flesh-and-blood-less
A god-like creature, virtually."
