What the constellation represents: a lyre, or harp
History: ancient
Region of sky where it is located: northern hemisphere
When visible: April-December
How visible: Easy
Objects of interest: bright star Vega, the Ring Nebula
How to see it: this constellation is small, but easy to find. Look for a very bright blue-white star in the northeast or overhead. This is Vega, and you might be able to see a small parallelogram of stars underneath it, making up the body or strings of the lyre. In summer and autumn you can also find it as part of the Summer Triangle.
Welcome to the first in a constellation series based on the three most prominent summer constellations, whose bright stars make up the corners of the fabulous Summer Triangle asterism. Vega is one corner of this triangle, along with Altair and Deneb, and their constellations will be covered in the following months.
Summer nights are always musical. In a more urban neighbourhood, that music comes from parties, outdoor gatherings and concerts in parks. Maybe you might be stargazing at a festival, in a field listening to the bands playing. But away from the noise, there’s also an older type of nocturnal music, from sources more than human. As the haunting lament of winter’s wind gives way to the beguiling whisper of a summer evening breeze, a balm after the harsh heat of day, you might hear the chirp of crickets and cicadas, the calls of frogs, the songs of night birds. There are many creatures who raise their voices in the dark. How fitting then, that the constellation that shines above you during those song-filled summer nights represents a lyre in the stars.
A small but delightful pattern of stars marked by the dazzling bluish star Vega, Lyra is the only musical instrument represented among the constellations. In Greek myth it represents the lyre of Orpheus, the legendary musician. His most well known myth speaks of music as something so powerful that it can even transcend death. But before we get to Orpheus, let’s start with how the lyre itself came to be…
Orpheus’s Story
Hermes, messenger of the gods, invented a new type of instrument when he was just an infant. He took two ox horns, attached them to a hollow tortoise shell which acted as a sound box, and finished it with seven strings for each of the Pleiades. He strummed the strings and was amazed at the beautiful sound. Hermes passed the lyre to Apollo, god of the sun and music, and he in turn gave it to his son, Orpheus. And what Orpheus would do with the lyre would place his name in mythic history.
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Orpheus was blessed with natural rhythm, perfect pitch, and a beautiful singing voice that charmed animals, made trees move closer, calmed storms, and entranced rocks and rivers. He was particularly beloved in his homeland of Thrace (around modern day northeast Greece and Bulgaria). Among those spellbound by his songs was a young nymph, Eurydice, who was there every time Orpheus performed; one could say she was his biggest fan. They fell in love, and they married. But tragedy struck when a venomous snake bit Eurydice...
Upon hearing the news of her death, the musician picked up his lyre and played until a passage to the underworld opened up. Orpheus stepped into the chasm, and reached the inky waters of the river Styx. There, the ferryman Charon was waiting on his boat. ‘Sorry, I only take dead people’ he replied. Orpheus played him a song so persuasive, that Charon let him board.
The ferry arrived at the throne of Hades, god of the underworld, and his wife Persephone. Hades asked why Orpheus was foolish enough to enter his realm, to which he replied that he wanted his beloved back. Hades glared at the musician, and replied ‘Never!’ At this, Persephone interjected. ‘Let him play. I have heard his music during my time on earth, when I rule over spring and summer. You need to hear him.’ She gestured encouragingly to Orpheus. ‘Play for us. If we approve, we’ll see if your wife can return to you.’ And so he performed a song so moving, so poignant, and so full of love for Eurydice. The king and queen of the underworld were struck by the power of the song. ‘We never do this.’ Persephone said, ‘But your song has affected us such that we will allow her to live again. Go now to the world of the living, Eurydice will follow. But do not look back until you leave the underworld. Otherwise she will be lost forever.’
Orpheus looked to see a passage opening up, sunlight at the end of the tunnel. He walked forward, hearing the footsteps of his beloved behind him. Then just as he reached the threshold between death and life, he heard a cry behind him. He turned around, and saw Eurydice as she began to fade away like smoke. He reached out to her, but his fingers met nothing but empty air. Utterly broken and at his lowest, he surfaced, his beloved just a memory.
That’s the story everyone knows though. His talents were so renowned that he became one of the Argonauts, boarding the ship that sailed to find the Golden Fleece. There, his musical skills were put to the test when the crew had pass the rocks where the Sirens dwelled, and their mesmerising songs were known to lure sailors, causing them to crash their ships into the rocks. But Orpheus’s songs overpowered those of the Sirens, and the Argo passed safely by.
And there’s more. I’ve since found out that Orpheus is a very complex and multifaceted figure. Some writings suggest he was an allegory of the Sun and its seasonal movements (with Eurydice representing the dawn), others talk of the mystery cult he founded and his spiritual teachings. There are mentions of Orpheus’s prior love affairs in the classical texts, lesser known to us now. It’s worth mentioning (and not just because it’s Pride month!) that some ancient writings spoke of Orpheus as being homosexual. He had another lover, a handsome young man called Callais, to whom he poured his heart out with song. And that Orpheus died at the murderous hands of some of his female admirers after he turned them down, because he preferred male company1. Another version says he was killed in a drunken frenzy by the followers of Dionysus. There’s even a story in which he was decapitated, and though severed from his body, his head continued to sing. Such was his influence with musicians and poets to this day have been compared to Orpheus, especially when their music touches hearts, stirs emotions, and speaks to the soul of humanity or nature.
There’s a lot more that could be said, but I’ll leave it at that and return to the night sky, where his memory has been constellated. His lyre, crafted by Hermes, gifted by Apollo, was lifted into the heavens and turned into stars, with one star so bright and beautiful it seems to sing with light.2
Lyra Lore
Lyra and Vega are prominent enough to be featured in star lore across the world. Similar to the Greeks, the Celts saw this constellation as a harp, that of King Arthur. It was sometimes called the harp of King David3, and in Bohemia, it is known as the Violin of the Sky. The Persians saw a tortoise in these stars, as did the early Greeks-recall that the lyre’s sound box was made of a tortoise shell. The constellation was known in Peru as Urcuchillay, protector of animals. The Chinese associated the stars of Lyra (excluding Vega, I’ll get to that) with a ‘bureau of standards’ where clocks were calibrated and musical instruments were tuned-a curious parallel with the Greek lyre.
Another symbol that comes up a lot with Lyra is that of a bird, particularly a vulture. Many star maps across history show Lyra as a harp clutched in the talons of a bird of prey-it’s also been described as an eagle, an osprey or a kite-sometimes seen as a complementary bird to nearby constellation Aquila, an eagle with outstretched wings, whereas Lyra’s bird has wings folded, either perching or swooping down. Add to that the neighbouring constellation of Cygnus the swan, and you’ll realise that the Summer Triangle can be interpreted as a trio of birds. The Arabs, Indians and Egyptians saw a vulture in the stars of Lyra. Egyptian queens wore vulture crowns in honour of the vulture goddesses Mut and Nekhbet, as this was a bird associated with protection and motherhood.4 Coincidentally, the Boorong of Australia also see Lyra as a bird, known as the Mallee Fowl or Nelliloan, a kind of pheasant.
And I must mention one of my absolute favourite characters, who happens to named after this constellation. I am of course talking about Lyra Belaqua from the His Dark Materials and Book of Dust trilogies by Philip Pullman. It is interesting to note that (spoiler alert) in the Amber Spyglass, Lyra undergoes a journey to the realm of the dead just like Orpheus, but instead of using the power of music to charm the creatures within, she uses stories, and with the magic of words she transforms the afterlife itself.
The Darling of Summer Skies
The wondrous star Vega dominates this little constellation. This is the fifth brightest star in the night sky overall, and the second brightest in the northern hemisphere after Arcturus. Vega was the first star in the night sky to have its photo and spectrum taken, both in the 1800s. From the latitude of London and northwards, it never sets, but summer is the time when it is almost overhead. With a temperature of 9820 degrees C, and with a luminosity 65 times greater than the Sun, it’s no wonder Vega is so bright. Being hotter than the Sun makes it white-hot, giving the star that diamond-like gleam. It also rotates very fast, which makes the star bulge around the equator. That means that Vega wouldn’t look perfectly spherical, but rather squished.
At 25 light years away, the light you see from Vega left in the year 2000. The world had entered a new millennium! Because of Lyra’s association with music, my thoughts turn to the hits that were in the charts at the time. Naturally I think of Pulp’s ‘Disco 2000’ (which was actually released in 1995) and this was a time when 90s Britpop swagger was replaced by US boybands and UK garage beats. Some songs that were out in 2000 include Britney Spears’ ‘Oops I Did It Again’, All Saints’ ‘Pure Shores’, ‘Bye Bye Bye’ by *NSync and ‘Rock DJ’ by Robbie Williams. The music of my youth…just thinking about it makes me nostalgic. What were you doing-or listening to-in the year 2000?
Vega also has an exciting future ahead, because it will become the Pole Star in the year 14,000 CE, thanks to the Earth’s precession. Who knows what the world will have become by then?
The name Vega comes from Al-Waqi, from an Arabic phrase meaning falling/swooping eagle or vulture, based on the ancient vulture constellation of which it is part. It is known as Abhjit-the victorious one-to the Hindus, an auspicious star in Vedic astrology, and the Polynesians know it as the Year Star, a calendar marker. But it’s probably in East Asia where this star is most beloved…
The Weaver Girl
The ‘star festivals’ of Qixi in China and Tanabata in Japan are based on a romantic tale of star-crossed lovers that is in turn inspired by the stars we call the Summer Triangle. Over the next three months, I will tell the story behind it in three parts, based on some of the tellings of it I have seen-there are many versions of this story.
Once there was a celestial fairy princess, daughter of the Emperor and Queen of Heaven, who was blessed with the gift of weaving. In China she is called Zhi Nu, and the Japanese call her Orihime. She was very beautiful, with eyes that sparkled like stars, and midnight black hair as shiny as the silk she worked with. With her deft fingers and her skill at the loom, she wove clouds of many colours to adorn the sky, and shimmering robes for the deities. And she was also a star, the one we call Vega, and the other stars of Lyra formed her loom. Zhi Nu’s parents were very strict, particularly when it came to love. ‘Beware the men down on Earth!’ they warned. ‘They are nothing but trouble, and will distract you from your weaving!’ They certainly didn’t approve of their daughter falling for a lowly mortal. One day, she descended to the world below with her sisters, and as she sat weaving, she caught the eye of a young ox herd…
Look out for Part 2 of the Tale of the Weaver Girl and the Cowherd in July’s post on the constellation Aquila.
Other Wonders
Lyra is also the radiant point for the Lyrid meteor shower. These shooting stars come from the comet Thatcher5 and occurs in mid-late April, with a peak around the 22nd-23rd April. It’s not as prolific as some meteor showers-in fact, it’s one I’ve not actually seen meteors from yet-but it has been known to have outbursts where hundreds of meteors stream out of a point near Vega. Indeed, one of these outbursts was recorded in 687 BCE as ‘stars falling like rain’, making this the oldest documented meteor shower. And the Lyrids may have been known for even longer than that. In the oral traditions of Australia’s Boorong people, which go back many thousands of years, these meteors were dust and pebbles kicked up by the bird Nelliloan making a nest in the sky.
If you have binoculars, look to the left of Vega for the star next to it-you will notice that it is actually two stars. This is Epsilon Lyrae, the Double Double Star of Lyra. Why Double Double? In a higher magnification such as a telescope, you’ll see that those two stars are also two stars each, making four in total.
Another fascinating object in Lyra is the Ring Nebula, aka M57. This ring of dust was caused by a dying star, which expanded into a red giant and then once it had run out of helium to burn as fuel, it collapsed gently into a puff of dust and gas, like a stellar smoke ring. This is what is known as a planetary nebula, nothing to do with there being planets in it, it’s named because it can look like a planet in a telescope. Within the nebula is a white dwarf, the remains of that once giant star, shrunk down to a small object about the size of the Earth. The Ring can be seen using a telescope.
Lyra is full of extrasolar planets, and since 2010 even more were found there when the Kepler space telescope observed a patch of stars in this constellation. Many planets were found there including the star system, Kepler 62, with two roughly Earth-sized solid planets in the habitable zone-a place where it is warm enough for liquid water on the planet’s surface, and potentially life. Of course, more observations will need to be made to confirm if these really are ‘other Earths’.
This Is the Rhythm of the Night
Life is like a piece of music played by an enormous symphony orchestra of lyres and every other type of instrument...the point of a symphony is that instrument plays an ever changing pattern of notes, sometimes in harmony and sometimes in terrible discord-as is the case in life. Necessarily, a symphony is a fluid, dynamic process of continuous change.
Mark Westmoquette on Lyra, in Stars: a Practical Guide to the Key Constellations
Taking a cue from the ancient documenters of the sky who wrote almanacs and guides based on the positions of celestial bodies, I have been coming up with a contemporary sky calendar of my own, aligning the sky of my locale with the natural and cultural calendars I am familiar with. With that in mind, I love how Lyra truly is a musical constellation as it begins to rise and becomes prominent at a time of outdoor concerts and music festivals, all the way through summer. Whether it’s an after dark orchestra performance, an intimate folk gig by a campfire, or a huge field-filling rave or moshpit, as the sun goes down and the clear night darkens, Vega’s diamond rays shine upon the revellers and singing crowds like a distant mirrorball. I think of how these stars represented a fierce carrion bird, but combined with the lyre, I now reinterpret it as a songbird, perhaps a nightingale6 or some other bird whose haunting call enchants the night. A bird perched on a celestial branch, the bright head and voice marked by Vega, singing beams of light across the sky.
Our world is so incredibly troubled these days with the news constantly showing a new flavour of doom every time we refresh our feeds or switch on the TV. Does it seem frivolous to seek joy and pleasure, such as that gained from listening to music, playing instruments, dancing and singing, in these fraught, testing times? On the contrary, it is more imperative than ever. Music is one of the most vital forms of resistance, not just through protest songs, but also as medicine. When I look up on those summer nights at the stars of Lyra, it reminds me of the power of music to move, soothe, lift and rouse us. The strength of stories told through song. How a familiar tune or a joyful dance brings us together and breaks down barriers. Some say that music is what makes us human, but there is also music in nature, beyond human sources. I’d say that music is what makes us alive.
In a world that’s so disharmonious, so out of tune, take some time to admire Lyra these summer evenings, and think of life’s wonderful and multifaceted song. Whether it moves you to action, or is a soothing reprieve from the horrors you might read and hear about, let that music, and the stars above, inspire you.
Further reading/listening
Tales of the Night Sky episodes on Lyra part 1 and part 2
Here’s a version of the Qixi story
I should also add that other Greek myths connect Lyra to Arion, another musician whose myth is most associated with the constellation Delphinus-which I hope to write about eventually!
I can’t help but think here of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah, which has almost Orpheus-like themes in the lyrics of the ‘secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord’.
It is worth noting that these birds are indeed protective against illness. Recently when vultures were poisoned in India, there was a subsequent spike in people dying from diseases from rotting cattle carcasses, the very same carcasses that would normally be eaten and disposed of by vultures.
No, not the infamous former UK prime minister! It’s named after to the amateur astronomer AE Thatcher who discovered the comet in 1861.
I later found out, after writing this, that the bird associated with Orpheus was indeed the nightingale, which is an interesting coincidence. And now I think of folk singer Sam Lee-who may be considered a modern Orpheus figure-and his Singing with Nightingales concerts, which is something I really want to experience!