Heavy and hard is the heart of the king
king of iron, king of steel
the heart of the king loves everything
like the hammer loves the nail
but the heart of a man is a simple one
small and soft, flesh and blood
and all that it loves is a woman
a woman is all that it loves
and Hades is king of the scythe and the sword
he covers the world in the color of rust
he scrapes the sky and scars the earth
and he comes down heavy and hard on us
but even that hardest of hearts unhardened
suddenly, when he saw her there
Persephone in her mother’s garden
sun on her shoulders, wind in her hair
the smell of the flowers she held in her hand
and the pollen that fell from her fingertips
and suddenly Hades was only a man
with a taste of nectar upon his lips
.
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Epic III and Poetry
A popular complaint I’ve seen about the Epic III Broadway changes is that the older version is “more poetic.” As a poet, that bothers me because the Broadway version is poetic, too, just less attention-drawing to its own language. And thinking about what the differences actually are, I realized something:
Concept Album/NYTW Epic III is an epic poem. Broadway Epic III isn’t —it’s a lyric poem. Not just in the sense that it’s lyrics to a song, but as a different genre entirely. And they are both excellent examples of their respective genres.
So, what’s the difference between epic and lyric poetry?
Epic poetry is a long narrative in verse that deals with gods and heroes, often making use of elaborate extended metaphors and evocative epithets to describe characters and events from an observer’s perspective. Ancient Greek examples include the Iliad and the Odyssey.
Lyric poetry is a) shorter, b) focuses on the poet’s own experience and state of mind rather than a narrative, and c) uses personal pronouns and emotional, relational language rather than descriptive epithets. The most famous Ancient Greek example of a lyric poet is Sappho.
Looking at the text of each version of Epic III, we can see these different techniques and priorities in play:
Orpheus uses epithets liberally in all the Epics, NYTW and Broadway, usually to describe Hades, but not always. Epic II is a masterclass in epithets:
King of diamonds, king of spades / Hades was king of a kingdom of dirt / Miners of mines, diggers of graves (Concept/NYTW)
King of silver, king of gold / And everything glittering under the ground / Hades is king of oil and coal / and the riches that flow where those rivers are found (Broadway)
King of mortar, king of bricks / The River Styx is a river of stones (Both)
Concept/NYTW’s Epic III opens with three stanzas of epithet-heavy language (king of iron, king of steel and Hades is king of the scythe and the sword) and uses them to build up an extended metaphor contrasting king and man, hard and soft, hammer and nail. It then goes on to describe in exquisite detail the scene of Hades first seeing and falling in love with Persephone:
But even that hardest of hearts unhardened
Suddenly when he saw her there
Persephone, in her mother’s garden
The sun on her shoulders, the wind in her hair
The smell of the flowers she held in her hand
And the pollen that fell from her fingertips
And suddenly Hades was only a man
With the taste of nectar on his lips
I, too, wish these stanzas had been kept—they’re absolutely beautiful. They are also wholly descriptive and predominantly physical. Hades’ emotions are abstracted and distanced from the scene. Persephone has no interiority whatsoever. It is a sonorous, metaphor-rich, but acutely third-person account of what happened.
This distance makes sense given Orpheus’ role in the NYTW production. He is an observer, a witness, an activist. He is deeply attuned to the injustices of what is happening around him and uses his poetry to share his observations of those injustices with the world. What he lacks is attunement to the emotional needs of other people, especially Eurydice. The triumph of his Epic is piercing commentary, making Hades see the consequences of his actions and just how different he has become from the man who first fell in love with Persephone.
Broadway’s version keeps the epithets limited to the first few lines (king of shadows, king of shades / Hades was king of the underworld). Orpheus doesn’t linger on physical description. The point is not to retell the story, but rather, to reframe it. Because Orpheus drops a bomb at the end of this section. He abandons the third person and introduces an “I”:
I know how it was because he was like me / A man in love with a woman
(Side note: The language in the first section of Broadway Epic III is very plain, but the poetry is still there! I partially blame Patrick Page—not in a bad way!—for interjecting in the middle of the first stanza, because when you put the text in quatrains, some gorgeous slant rhymes and vowel resonance shows up:
King of shadows, king of shades
Hades was king of the underworld
But he fell in love with a beautiful lady
who walked up above in her mother’s green field
He fell in love with Persephone
who was gathering flowers in the light of the sun
and I know how it was because he was like me
A man in love with a woman
I’ll admit some of the lines in isolation are not very good. I don’t like a man in love with a woman, but I’d say it has roughly the same quality as all that he loves is a woman / a woman is all that he loves, and the benefit of only taking up one line instead of two.)
Then come the la la la las, much earlier in Broadway than in NYTW because they have a new significance that completely changes the context of Orpheus’ song. Orpheus asserts “he was like me” and then proceeds to vocalize the exact feeling that Hades had without words. He then addresses Hades directly, in second person—something NYTW only does in the very last stanza—using the language of his own declaration of love. This is important because it shows that Orpheus isn’t just putting himself in Hades’ shoes—he’s putting Hades in his own. The moment of connection, of empathy goes both ways.
And the language of that love? It’s just as rich as the Persephone in her mother’s garden stanza, but the focus is not on exterior detail, but interior:
You didn’t know how and you didn’t know why
but you knew that you wanted to take her home
You saw her alone there against the sky
It was like she was someone you’d always known
And the slant rhymes? The assonance and consonance? *chef’s kiss*
It was like you were holding the world when you held her
Like yours were the arms that the whole world was in
And there were no words for the way that you felt
So you opened your mouth and you started to sing
Orpheus‘ thesis (”he was like me”) adds new context to the last section of the song, whose words are almost identical to the NYTW version. When Broadway Orpheus sings what has become of the heart of that man, he’s talking about himself as well. What would become of his own heart if he were to become like Hades? His moment of insight into Hades fears and weaknesses becomes a confession of his own insecurities:
See how he labors beneath that load
afraid to look up and afraid to let go
and
He’s grown so afraid that he’ll lose what he owns
But what he doesn’t know is that what he’s defending
is already gone
There’s a prescience to these lyrics when applied to Orpheus. Because this is a predestined tragedy, Orpheus has already lost Eurydice. And while walking out of Hadestown, his greatest fear is that Eurydice won’t be following him—that he’ll lose what he owns. And there’s another parallel: Hades is afraid to look up, while Orpheus is afraid to look back and afraid to keep going.
The final stanza differs only slightly between the two songs:
Where is the man with his hat in his hands
Who stands in the garden with nothing to lose? (NYTW)
Where is the man with his arms outstretched
To the woman he loves, with nothing to lose? (Broadway)
Again, the NYTW lyrics are descriptive and external, while the Broadway lyrics are emotional and relational. Epic poetry and lyric poetry.
And, while the songs are called “epics,” as befits the son of Calliope, the Muse of Epic Poetry, the lyric form has an Orpheus connection as well: traditionally, lyric poems were sung to the accompaniment of a lyre.
In conclusion, both Epic IIIs are valid. Neither one is more poetic than the other. They’re just different kinds of poetry.
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Something I realized while replying to a fellow fan of the musical (and I'm pretty sure this has been done before but eh):
The whole point of Epic III is to remind Hades that he was once just a man (and still is) before he became king of the Underworld. And it is because of his love for Persephone that he became strong and weak at the same time; strong enough to make the world bloom and die with her, but weak enough to worry that she'll leave him once she gets tired of him.
And Epic III is Orpheus' way of saying, “I know how it feels; you're not alone,” because he shares the same anxiety, the same fear because why would Eurydice even look at him when all he is is a nobody?
Epic III is one of the most beautifully written songs in the musical—both from a lyrical, and musical perspective. It is a song about humans and gods, about being human, about being in love renders even gods powerless, and it's a beautiful song. (I'm really overusing beautiful here but I literally can't think of any other word 'cause it's almost 7 AM here and my bilingual brain isn't working well yet)
And Hades, is a very complex but well-delivered character. He is not the villain of this story—he is only doing what he knows best, even if he doesn't know he's hurting those that surround him. 'Cause he'd rather cage Persephone than be left alone. He's a beautiful character and for a god, he's unapologetically human. This is one of Hadestown's themes and it's executed to perfection.
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