{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_20740/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_20740","id":"gutenberg_20740","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/20740","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Children's Anthologies","Legends","Mythology"],"text":"[Illustration: ELSA ON HER KNEES BEFORE LOHENGRIN]\n\n\n\n\n              MYTHS AND LEGENDS\n               OF ALL NATIONS\n\n\n               FAMOUS STORIES\n\n  FROM THE GREEK, GERMAN, ENGLISH, SPANISH\n        SCANDINAVIAN, DANISH, FRENCH\n         RUSSIAN, BOHEMIAN, ITALIAN\n             AND OTHER SOURCES\n\n\n          TRANSLATED AND EDITED BY\n               LOGAN MARSHALL\n\n\n                ILLUSTRATED\n        WITH ORIGINAL COLORED PLATES\n\n\n THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA\n\n\nPRINTED IN U. S. A.\n\n[Illustration: THEN ARTHUR DREW OUT THE SWORD AND WAS PROCLAIMED KING]\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nThe myths and legends here gathered together have appealed and will\ncontinue to appeal to every age. Nowhere in the realm of fiction are\nthere stories to compare with those which took form centuries ago when\nthe race was in its childhood--stories so intimately connected with\nthe life and history and religion of the great peoples of antiquity\nthat they have become an integral part of our own civilization, a\nheritage of wealth to every child that is born into the world.\n\nThe historic basis of the tales is slight; yet who can think of the\nGreeks without remembering the story of Troy, or of Rome without a\nbackward glance at \u00c6neas, fabled founder of the race and hero of\nVirgil's world-famous Latin epic? Any understanding of German\ncivilization would be incomplete without knowledge of the mythical\nprince Siegfried, hero of the earliest literature of the Teutonic\npeople, finally immortalized in the nineteenth century through the\nmusical dramas of Wagner. Any understanding of English civilization\nwould be similarly incomplete without the semi-historic figure of King\nArthur, glorified through the accumulated legends of the Middle Ages\nand made to live again in the melodic idylls of the great Victorian\nlaureate. And so one might go on. In many ways the mythology and\nfolklore of a country are a truer index to the life of its people than\nany of the pages of actual history; for through these channels the\nimagination and the heart speak. All the chronicles of rulers and\ngoverning bodies are as dust in comparison.\n\nThe imagination of the ancients had few if any bounds, and even\nAthens in the height of her intellectual glory accepted the fabulous\ntales of gods and half-gods. Today we read and wonder. But the child,\nwho in his brief lifetime must live over in part at least the history\nof the whole race, delights in the myths and legends which made his\nancestors admire or tremble. They are naturally not so real to him as\nthey were to his forefathers; yet they open up a rich and gorgeous\nwonderland, without excursions into which every child must grow up the\npoorer in mind and spirit.\n\nTo the children of America, wherever they may be, this book is\ndedicated. It is sure to bring enjoyment, because its stories have\nstood the test of time.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                                                                  PAGE\n\nPROMETHEUS THE FRIEND OF MAN                                         7\n\nTHE LABORS OF HERCULES                                              11\n_From the German of Gustav Schwab._\n\nDEUCALION AND PYRRHA                                                29\n_From the German of Gustav Schwab._\n\nTHESEUS AND THE CENTAUR                                             33\n_From the German of Gustav Schwab._\n\nNIOBE                                                               37\n_From the German of Gustav Schwab._\n\nTHE GORGON'S HEAD                                                   41\n_From Hawthorne's \"Wonder Book.\"_\n\nTHE GOLDEN FLEECE                                                   67\n_From Hawthorne's \"Tanglewood Tales.\"_\n\nTHE CYCLOPS                                                        106\n_From Church's \"Stories from Homer.\"_\n\n\u0152DIPUS AND THE SPHINX                                           116\n_Adapted from Church's \"Stories from Greek Tragedians.\"_\n\nANTIGONE, A FAITHFUL DAUGHTER AND SISTER                           118\n_Adapted from Church's \"Stories from Greek Tragedians.\"_\n\nTHE STORY OF IPHIGENIA                                             131\n_From Church's \"Stories from Greek Tragedians.\"_\n\nTHE SACK OF TROY                                                   153\n_From Church's \"Stories from Virgil.\"_\n\nBEOWULF AND GRENDEL                                                164\n_From Joyce Pollard's \"Stories from Old English Romance.\"_\n\nTHE GOOD KING ARTHUR                                               179\n\nTHE GREAT KNIGHT SIEGFRIED                                         214\n\nLOHENGRIN AND ELSA THE BEAUTIFUL                                   221\n_From the German of Robert Hertwig._\n\nFRITHIOF THE BOLD                                                  226\n_From the German of Robert Hertwig._\n\nWAYLAND THE SMITH                                                  231\n_From the German of Robert Hertwig._\n\nTWARDOWSKI, THE POLISH FAUST                                       237\n\nILIA MUROMEC OF RUSSIA                                             243\n\nKRALEWITZ MARKO OF SERVIA                                          245\n\nTHE DECISION OF LIBUSCHA                                           248\n\nCOUNT ROLAND OF FRANCE                                             250\n_From Church's \"Stories of Charlemagne and the Peers of France.\"_\n\nTHE CID                                                            267\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR\n\n\n_Lohengrin and Elsa the Beautiful._\n  Elsa on Her Knees Before Lohengrin                           _Cover_\n\n_The Good King Arthur._\n  Then Arthur Drew Out the Sword and was\n    Proclaimed King                                     _Frontispiece_\n\n_Prometheus, the Friend of Man._                                  PAGE\n  Prometheus Punished for His Gift to Man                            9\n\n_The Labors of Hercules._\n  The Hero Approached the Dreadful Monster                          19\n\n_Deucalion and Pyrrha._\n  Deucalion and Pyrrha Casting the Bones of\n    Their Mother Behind Them                                        31\n\n_Theseus and the Centaur._\n  The Centaur Fell Backward                                         35\n\n_Niobe._\n  Niobe Weeping for Her Children                                    40\n\n_The Gorgon's Head._\n  Perseus Slaying the Medusa                                        60\n\n_The Golden Fleece._\n  The Dragon Fell at Full Length Upon the\n    Ground                                                         104\n\n_The Cyclops._\n  The One-eyed Polyphemus                                          108\n\n_\u0152dipus and the Sphinx._\n  \u0152dipus Stood Before the Sphinx                                116\n\n_Antigone, the Faithful Daughter and Sister._\n  The Blind \u0152dipus, Led by His Daughter\n    Antigone                                                       118\n\n_The Story of Iphigenia._\n  Iphigenia About to be Sacrificed                                 140\n\n_The Sack of Troy._\n  The Trojan Horse                                                 153\n\n_Beowulf and Grendel._\n  Beowulf Face to Face With the Fire-breathing\n    Dragon                                                         170\n\n_The Great Knight Siegfried._\n  Siegfried Came Off Victor in Every Encounter                     214\n\n_Frithiof the Bold._\n  Frithiof and Ingeborg in the Temple of Balder                    230\n\n_Wayland the Smith._\n  Wayland the Smith, Wearing the Wings He had\n    Fashioned                                                      234\n\n_Twardowski, the Polish Faust._\n  Twardowski in the Arms of the Evil One                           242\n\n_Ilia Muromec of Russia._\n  Zidovin Threw the Iron Club High Into the\n    Air and Caught It with One Hand                                244\n\n_Kralewitz Marko of Servia._\n  They Gagged Marko and Bound Him to His\n    Horse                                                          246\n\n_The Decision of Libuscha._\n  Libuscha Insulted by Chrudis                                     248\n\n_Count Roland of France._\n  Roland's Own Death Was Very Near                                 265\n\n_The Cid._\n  The Youthful Cid Avenging the Death of His\n    Father                                                         267\n\n\n\n\nPROMETHEUS, THE FRIEND OF MAN\n\n\nMany, many centuries ago there lived two brothers, Prometheus or\nForethought, and Epimetheus or Afterthought. They were the sons of\nthose Titans who had fought against Jupiter and been sent in chains to\nthe great prison-house of the lower world, but for some reason had\nescaped punishment.\n\nPrometheus, however, did not care for idle life among the gods on\nMount Olympus. Instead he preferred to spend his time on the earth,\nhelping men to find easier and better ways of living. For the children\nof earth were not happy as they had been in the golden days when\nSaturn ruled. Indeed, they were very poor and wretched and cold,\nwithout fire, without food, and with no shelter but miserable caves.\n\n\"With fire they could at least warm their bodies and cook their food,\"\nPrometheus thought, \"and later they could make tools and build houses\nfor themselves and enjoy some of the comforts of the gods.\"\n\nSo Prometheus went to Jupiter and asked that he might be permitted to\ncarry fire to the earth. But Jupiter shook his head in wrath.\n\n\"Fire, indeed!\" he exclaimed. \"If men had fire they would soon be as\nstrong and wise as we who dwell on Olympus. Never will I give my\nconsent.\"\n\nPrometheus made no reply, but he didn't give up his idea of helping\nmen. \"Some other way must be found,\" he thought.\n\nThen, one day, as he was walking among some reeds he broke off one,\nand seeing that its hollow stalk was filled with a dry, soft pith,\nexclaimed:\n\n\"At last! In this I can carry fire, and the children of men shall\nhave the great gift in spite of Jupiter.\"\n\nImmediately, taking a long stalk in his hands, he set out for the\ndwelling of the sun in the far east. He reached there in the early\nmorning, just as Apollo's chariot was about to begin its journey\nacross the sky. Lighting his reed, he hurried back, carefully guarding\nthe precious spark that was hidden in the hollow stalk.\n\nThen he showed men how to build fires for themselves, and it was not\nlong before they began to do all the wonderful things of which\nPrometheus had dreamed. They learned to cook and to domesticate\nanimals and to till the fields and to mine precious metals and melt\nthem into tools and weapons. And they came out of their dark and\ngloomy caves and built for themselves beautiful houses of wood and\nstone. And instead of being sad and unhappy they began to laugh and\nsing. \"Behold, the Age of Gold has come again,\" they said.\n\nBut Jupiter was not so happy. He saw that men were gaining daily\ngreater power, and their very prosperity made him angry.\n\n\"That young Titan!\" he cried out, when he heard what Prometheus had\ndone. \"I will punish him.\"\n\nBut before punishing Prometheus he decided to vex the children of men.\nSo he gave a lump of clay to his blacksmith, Vulcan, and told him to\nmold it in the form of a woman. When the work was done he carried it\nto Olympus.\n\nJupiter called the other gods together, bidding them give her each a\ngift. One bestowed upon her beauty, another, kindness, another, skill,\nanother, curiosity, and so on. Jupiter himself gave her the gift of\nlife, and they named her Pandora, which means \"all-gifted.\"\n\nThen Mercury, the messenger of the gods, took Pandora and led her down\nthe mountain side to the place where Prometheus and his brother were\nliving.\n\n[Illustration: PROMETHEUS PUNISHED FOR HIS GIFT TO MAN]\n\n\"Epimetheus, here is a beautiful woman that Jupiter has sent to be\nyour wife,\" he said.\n\nEpimetheus was delighted and soon loved Pandora very deeply, because\nof her beauty and her goodness.\n\nNow Pandora had brought with her as a gift from Jupiter a golden\ncasket. Athena had warned her never to open the box, but she could not\nhelp wondering and wondering what it contained. Perhaps it held\nbeautiful jewels. Why should they go to waste?\n\nAt last she could not contain her curiosity any longer. She opened the\nbox just a little to take a peep inside. Immediately there was a\nbuzzing, whirring sound, and before she could snap down the lid ten\nthousand ugly little creatures had jumped out. They were diseases and\ntroubles, and very glad they were to be free.\n\nAll over the earth they flew, entering into every household, and\ncarrying sorrow and distress wherever they went.\n\nHow Jupiter must have laughed when he saw the result of Pandora's\ncuriosity!\n\nSoon after this the god decided that it was time to punish Prometheus.\nHe called Strength and Force and bade them seize the Titan and carry\nhim to the highest peak of the Caucasus Mountains. Then he sent Vulcan\nto bind him with iron chains, making arms and feet fast to the rocks.\nVulcan was sorry for Prometheus, but dared not disobey.\n\nSo the friend of man lay, miserably bound, naked to the winds, while\nthe storms beat about him and an eagle tore at his liver with its\ncruel talons. But Prometheus did not utter a groan in spite of all his\nsufferings. Year after year he lay in agony, and yet he would not\ncomplain, beg for mercy or repent of what he had done. Men were sorry\nfor him, but could do nothing.\n\nThen one day a beautiful white cow passed over the mountain, and\nstopped to look at Prometheus with sad eyes.\n\n\"I know you,\" Prometheus said. \"You are Io, once a fair and happy\nmaiden dwelling in Argos, doomed by Jupiter and his jealous queen to\nwander over the earth in this guise. Go southward and then west until\nyou come to the great river Nile. There you shall again become a\nmaiden, fairer than ever before, and shall marry the king of that\ncountry. And from your race shall spring the hero who will break my\nchains and set me free.\"\n\nCenturies passed and then a great hero, Hercules, came to the Caucasus\nMountains. He climbed the rugged peak, slew the fierce eagle, and with\nmighty blows broke the chains that bound the friend of man.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LABORS OF HERCULES\n\n\nBefore the birth of Hercules Jupiter had explained in the council of\nthe gods that the first descendant of Perseus should be the ruler of\nall the others of his race. This honor was intended for the son of\nPerseus and Alcmene; but Juno was jealous and brought it about that\nEurystheus, who was also a descendant of Perseus, should be born\nbefore Theseus. So Eurystheus became king in Mycene, and the\nlater-born Hercules remained inferior to him.\n\nNow Eurystheus watched with anxiety the rising fame of his young\nrelative, and called his subject to him, demanding that he carry\nthrough certain great tasks or labors. When Hercules did not\nimmediately obey, Jupiter himself sent word to him that he should\nfulfill his service to the King of Greece.\n\nNevertheless the hero son of a god could not make up his mind easily\nto render service to a mere mortal. So he traveled to Delphi and\nquestioned the oracle as to what he should do. This was the answer:\n\n_The overlordship of Eurystheus will be qualified on condition that\nHercules perform ten labors that Eurystheus shall assign him. When\nthis is done, Hercules shall be numbered among the immortal gods._\n\nHereupon Hercules fell into deep trouble. To serve a man of less\nimportance than himself hurt his dignity and self-esteem; but Jupiter\nwould not listen to his complaints.\n\n\nTHE FIRST LABOR\n\nThe first labor that Eurystheus assigned to Hercules was to bring him\nthe skin of the Nemean lion. This monster dwelt on the mountain of\nPeloponnesus, in the forest between Kleona and Nemea, and could be\nwounded by no weapons made of man. Some said he was the son of the\ngiant Typhon and the snake Echidna; others that he had dropped down\nfrom the moon to the earth.\n\nHercules set out on his journey and came to Kleona, where a poor\nlaborer, Molorchus, received him hospitably. He met the latter just as\nhe was about to offer a sacrifice to Jupiter.\n\n\"Good man,\" said Hercules, \"let the animal live thirty days longer;\nthen, if I return, offer it to Jupiter, my deliverer, and if I do not\nreturn, offer it as a funeral sacrifice to me, the hero who has\nattained immortality.\"\n\nSo Hercules continued on his way, his quiver of arrows over his\nshoulder, his bow in one hand, and in the other a club made from the\ntrunk of a wild olive tree which he had passed on Mount Helicon and\npulled up by the roots. When he at last entered the Nemean wood, he\nlooked carefully in every direction in order that he might catch sight\nof the monster lion before the lion should see him. It was mid-day,\nand nowhere could he discover any trace of the lion or any path that\nseemed to lead to his lair. He met no man in the field or in the\nforest: fear held them all shut up in their distant dwellings. The\nwhole afternoon he wandered through the thick undergrowth, determined\nto test his strength just as soon as he should encounter the lion.\n\nAt last, toward evening, the monster came through the forest,\nreturning from his trap in a deep fissure of the earth.\n\nHe was saturated with blood: head, mane and breast were reeking, and\nhis great tongue was licking his jaws. The hero, who saw him coming\nlong before he was near, took refuge in a thicket and waited until the\nlion approached; then with his arrow he shot him in the side. But the\nshot did not pierce his flesh; instead it flew back as if it had\nstruck stone, and fell on the mossy earth.\n\nThen the animal raised his bloody head; looked around in every\ndirection, and in fierce anger showed his ugly teeth. Raising his\nhead, he exposed his heart, and immediately Hercules let fly another\narrow, hoping to pierce him through the lungs. Again the arrow did not\nenter the flesh, but fell at the feet of the monster.\n\nHercules took a third arrow, while the lion, casting his eyes to the\nside, watched him. His whole neck swelled with anger; he roared, and\nhis back was bent like a bow. He sprang toward his enemy; but Hercules\nthrew the arrow and cast off the lion skin in which he was clothed\nwith the left hand, while with the right he swung his club over the\nhead of the beast and gave him such a blow on the neck that, all ready\nto spring as the lion was, he fell back, and came to a stand on\ntrembling legs, with shaking head. Before he could take another\nbreath, Hercules was upon him.\n\nThrowing down his bow and quiver, that he might be entirely\nunencumbered, he approached the animal from behind, threw his arm\naround his neck and strangled him. Then for a long time he sought in\nvain to strip the fallen animal of his hide. It yielded to no weapon\nor no stone. At last the idea occurred to him of tearing it with the\nanimal's own claws, and this method immediately succeeded.\n\nLater he prepared for himself a coat of mail out of the lion's skin,\nand from the neck, a new helmet; but for the present he was content to\ndon his own costume and weapons, and with the lion's skin over his arm\ntook his way back to Tirynth.\n\n\nTHE SECOND LABOR\n\nThe second labor consisted in destroying a hydra. This monster dwelt\nin the swamp of Lerna, but came occasionally over the country,\ndestroying herds and laying waste the fields. The hydra was an\nenormous creature--a serpent with nine heads, of which eight were\nmortal and one immortal.\n\nHercules set out with high courage for this fight. He mounted his\nchariot, and his beloved nephew Iolaus, the son of his stepbrother\nIphicles, who for a long time had been his inseparable companion, sat\nby his side, guiding the horses; and so they sped toward Lerna.\n\nAt last the hydra was visible on a hill by the springs of Amymone,\nwhere its lair was found. Here Iolaus left the horses stand. Hercules\nleaped from the chariot and sought with burning arrows to drive the\nmany-headed serpent from its hiding place. It came forth hissing, its\nnine heads raised and swaying like the branches of a tree in a storm.\n\nUndismayed, Hercules approached it, seized it, and held it fast. But\nthe snake wrapped itself around one of his feet. Then he began with\nhis sword to cut off its heads. But this looked like an endless task,\nfor no sooner had he cut off one head than two grew in its place. At\nthe same time an enormous crab came to the help of the hydra and began\nbiting the hero's foot. Killing this with his club, he called to\nIolaus for help.\n\nThe latter had lighted a torch, set fire to a portion of the nearby\nwood, and with brands therefrom touched the serpent's newly growing\nheads and prevented them from living. In this way the hero was at last\nmaster of the situation and was able to cut off even the head of the\nhydra that could not be killed. This he buried deep in the ground and\nrolled a heavy stone over the place. The body of the hydra he cut into\nhalf, dipping his arrows in the blood, which was poisonous.\n\nFrom that time the wounds made by the arrows of Hercules were fatal.\n\n\nTHE THIRD LABOR\n\nThe third demand of Eurystheus was that Hercules bring to him alive\nthe hind Cerynitis. This was a noble animal, with horns of gold and\nfeet of iron. She lived on a hill in Arcadia, and was one of the five\nhinds which the goddess Diana had caught on her first hunt. This one,\nof all the five, was permitted to run loose again in the woods, for it\nwas decreed by fate that Hercules should one day hunt her.\n\nFor a whole year Hercules pursued her; came at last to the river\nLadon; and there captured the hind, not far from the city Oenon, on\nthe mountains of Diana. But he knew of no way of becoming master of\nthe animal without wounding her, so he lamed her with an arrow and\nthen carried her over his shoulder through Arcadia.\n\nHere he met Diana herself with Apollo, who scolded him for wishing to\nkill the animal that she had held sacred, and was about to take it\nfrom him.\n\n\"Impiety did not move me, great goddess,\" said Hercules in his own\ndefense, \"but only the direst necessity. How otherwise could I hold my\nown against Eurystheus?\"\n\nAnd thus he softened the anger of the goddess and brought the animal\nto Mycene.\n\n\nTHE FOURTH LABOR\n\nThen Hercules set out on his fourth undertaking. It consisted in\nbringing alive to Mycene a boar which, likewise sacred to Diana, was\nlaying waste the country around the mountain of Erymanthus.\n\nOn his wanderings in search of this adventure he came to the dwelling\nof Pholus, the son of Silenus. Like all Centaurs, Pholus was half man\nand half horse. He received his guest with hospitality and set before\nhim broiled meat, while he himself ate raw. But Hercules, not\nsatisfied with this, wished also to have something good to drink.\n\n\"Dear guest,\" said Pholus, \"there is a cask in my cellar; but it\nbelongs to all the Centaurs jointly, and I hesitate to open it because\nI know how little they welcome guests.\"\n\n\"Open it with good courage,\" answered Hercules, \"I promise to defend\nyou against all displeasure.\"\n\nAs it happened, the cask of wine had been given to the Centaurs by\nBacchus, the god of wine, with the command that they should not open\nit until, after four centuries, Hercules should appear in their midst.\n\nPholus went to the cellar and opened the wonderful cask. But scarcely\nhad he done so when the Centaurs caught the perfume of the rare old\nwine, and, armed with stones and pine clubs, surrounded the cave of\nPholus. The first who tried to force their way in Hercules drove back\nwith brands he seized from the fire. The rest he pursued with bow and\narrow, driving them back to Malea, where lived the good Centaur,\nChiron, Hercules' old friend. To him his brother Centaurs had fled for\nprotection.\n\nBut Hercules still continued shooting, and sent an arrow through the\narm of an old Centaur, which unhappily went quite through and fell on\nChiron's knee, piercing the flesh. Then for the first time Hercules\nrecognized his friend of former days, ran to him in great distress,\npulled out the arrow, and laid healing ointment on the wound, as the\nwise Chiron himself had taught him. But the wound, filled with the\npoison of the hydra, could not be healed; so the centaur was carried\ninto his cave. There he wished to die in the arms of his friend. Vain\nwish! The poor Centaur had forgotten that he was immortal, and though\nwounded would not die.\n\nThen Hercules with many tears bade farewell to his old teacher and\npromised to send to him, no matter at what price, the great deliverer,\nDeath. And we know that he kept his word.\n\nWhen Hercules from the pursuit of the other Centaurs returned to the\ndwelling of Pholus he found him also dead. He had drawn the deadly\narrow from the lifeless body of one Centaur, and while he was\nwondering how so small a thing could do such great damage, the\npoisoned arrow slipped through his fingers and pierced his foot,\nkilling him instantly. Hercules was very sad, and buried his body\nreverently beneath the mountain, which from that day was called\nPholo\u00eb.\n\nThen Hercules continued his hunt for the boar, drove him with cries\nout of the thick of the woods, pursued him into a deep snow field,\nbound the exhausted animal, and brought him, as he had been commanded,\nalive to Mycene.\n\n\nTHE FIFTH LABOR\n\nThereupon King Eurystheus sent him upon the fifth labor, which was one\nlittle worthy of a hero. It was to clean the stables of Augeas in a\nsingle day.\n\nAugeas was king in Elis and had great herds of cattle. These herds\nwere kept, according to the custom, in a great inclosure before the\npalace. Three thousand cattle were housed there, and as the stables\nhad not been cleaned for many years, so much manure had accumulated\nthat it seemed an insult to ask Hercules to clean them in one day.\n\nWhen the hero stepped before King Augeas and without telling him\nanything of the demands of Eurystheus, pledged himself to the task,\nthe latter measured the noble form in the lion-skin and could hardly\nrefrain from laughing when he thought of so worthy a warrior\nundertaking so menial a work. But he said to himself: \"Necessity has\ndriven many a brave man; perhaps this one wishes to enrich himself\nthrough me. That will help him little. I can promise him a large\nreward if he cleans out the stables, for he can in one day clear\nlittle enough.\" Then he spoke confidently:\n\n\"Listen, O stranger. If you clean all of my stables in one day, I will\ngive over to you the tenth part of all my possessions in cattle.\"\n\nHercules accepted the offer, and the king expected to see him begin\nto shovel. But Hercules, after he had called the son of Augeas to\nwitness the agreement, tore the foundations away from one side of the\nstables; directed to it by means of a canal the streams of Alpheus and\nPeneus that flowed near by; and let the waters carry away the filth\nthrough another opening. So he accomplished the menial work without\nstooping to anything unworthy of an immortal.\n\nWhen Augeas learned that this work had been done in the service of\nEurystheus, he refused the reward and said that he had not promised\nit; but he declared himself ready to have the question settled in\ncourt. When the judges were assembled, Phyleus, commanded by Hercules\nto appear, testified against his father, and explained how he had\nagreed to offer Hercules a reward. Augeas did not wait for the\ndecision; he grew angry and commanded his son as well as the stranger\nto leave his kingdom instantly.\n\n\nTHE SIXTH LABOR\n\nHercules now returned with new adventures to Eurystheus; but the\nlatter would not give him credit for the task because Hercules had\ndemanded a reward for his labor. He sent the hero forth upon a sixth\nadventure, commanding him to drive away the Stymphalides. These were\nmonster birds of prey, as large as cranes, with iron feathers, beaks\nand claws. They lived on the banks of Lake Stymphalus in Arcadia, and\nhad the power of using their feathers as arrows and piercing with\ntheir beaks even bronze coats of mail. Thus they brought destruction\nto both animals and men in all the surrounding country.\n\n[Illustration: THE HERO APPROACHED THE DREADFUL MONSTER]\n\nAfter a short journey Hercules, accustomed to wandering, arrived at\nthe lake, which was thickly shaded by a wood. Into this wood a great\nflock of the birds had flown for fear of being robbed by wolves.\nThe hero stood undecided when he saw the frightful crowd, not knowing\nhow he could become master over so many enemies. Then he felt a light\ntouch on his shoulder, and glancing behind him saw the tall figure of\nthe goddess Minerva, who gave into his hands two mighty brass rattles\nmade by Vulcan. Telling him to use these to drive away the\nStymphalides, she disappeared.\n\nHercules mounted a hill near the lake, and began frightening the birds\nby the noise of the rattles. The Stymphalides could not endure the\nawful noise and flew, terrified, out of the forest. Then Hercules\nseized his bow and sent arrow after arrow in pursuit of them, shooting\nmany as they flew. Those who were not killed left the lake and never\nreturned.\n\n\nTHE SEVENTH LABOR\n\nKing Minos of Crete had promised Neptune (Poseidon), god of the sea,\nto offer to him whatever animal should first come up out of the water,\nfor he declared he had no animal that was worthy for so high a\nsacrifice. Therefore the god caused a very beautiful ox to rise out of\nthe sea. But the king was so taken with the noble appearance of the\nanimal that he secretly placed it among his own herds and offered\nanother to Neptune. Angered by this, the god had caused the animal to\nbecome mad, and it was bringing great destruction to the island of\nCrete. To capture this animal, master it, and bring it before\nEurystheus, was the seventh labor of Hercules.\n\nWhen the hero came to Crete and with this intention stepped before\nMinos, the king was not a little pleased over the prospect of ridding\nthe island of the bull, and he himself helped Hercules to capture the\nraging animal. Hercules approached the dreadful monster without fear,\nand so thoroughly did he master him that he rode home on the animal\nthe whole way to the sea.\n\nWith this work Eurystheus was pleased, and after he had regarded the\nanimal for a time with pleasure, set it free. No longer under\nHercules' management, the ox became wild again, wandered through all\nLaconia and Arcadia, crossed over the isthmus to Marathon in Attica\nand devastated the country there as formerly on the island of Crete.\nLater it was given to the hero Theseus to become master over him.\n\n\nTHE EIGHTH LABOR\n\nThe eighth labor of Hercules was to bring the mares of the Thracian\nDiomede to Mycene. Diomede was a son of Mars and ruler of the\nBistonians, a very warlike people. He had mares so wild and strong\nthat they had to be fastened with iron chains. Their fodder was\nchiefly hay; but strangers who had the misfortune to come into the\ncity were thrown before them, their flesh serving the animals as food.\n\nWhen Hercules arrived the first thing he did was to seize the inhuman\nking himself and after he had overpowered the keepers, throw him\nbefore his own mares. With this food the animals were satisfied and\nHercules was able to drive them to the sea.\n\nBut the Bistonians followed him with weapons, and Hercules was forced\nto turn and fight them. He gave the horses into the keeping of his\nbeloved companion Abderus, the son of Mercury, and while Hercules was\naway the animals grew hungry again and devoured their keeper.\n\nHercules, returning, was greatly grieved over this loss, and later\nfounded a city in honor of Abderus, naming it after his lost friend.\nFor the present he was content to master the mares and drive them\nwithout further mishap to Eurystheus.\n\nThe latter consecrated the horses to Juno. Their descendants were very\npowerful, and the great king Alexander of Macedonia rode one of them.\n\n\nTHE NINTH LABOR\n\nReturning from a long journey, the hero undertook an expedition\nagainst the Amazons in order to finish the ninth adventure and bring\nto King Eurystheus the sword belt of the Amazon Hippolyta.\n\nThe Amazons inhabited the region of the river Thermodon and were a\nrace of strong women who followed the occupations of men. From their\nchildren they selected only such as were girls. United in an army,\nthey waged great wars. Their queen, Hippolyta, wore, as a sign of her\nleadership, a girdle which the goddess of war had given her as a\npresent.\n\nHercules gathered his warrior companions together into a ship, sailed\nafter many adventures into the Black Sea and at last into the mouth of\nthe river Thermodon, and the harbor of the Amazon city Themiscira.\nHere the queen of the Amazons met him.\n\nThe lordly appearance of the hero flattered her pride, and when she\nheard the object of his visit, she promised him the belt. But Juno,\nthe relentless enemy of Hercules, assuming the form of an Amazon,\nmingled among the others and spread the news that a stranger was about\nto lead away their queen. Then the Amazons fought with the warriors of\nHercules, and the best fighters of them attacked the hero and gave him\na hard battle.\n\nThe first who began fighting with him was called, because of her\nswiftness, A\u00eblla, or Bride of the Wind; but she found in Hercules a\nswifter opponent, was forced to yield and was in her swift flight\novertaken by him and vanquished. A second fell at the first attack;\nthen Protho\u00eb, the third, who had come off victor in seven duels, also\nfell. Hercules laid low eight others, among them three hunter\ncompanions of Diana, who, although formerly always certain with their\nweapons, today failed in their aim, and vainly covering themselves\nwith their shields fell before the arrows of the hero. Even Alkippe\nfell, who had sworn to live her whole live unmarried: the vow she\nkept, but not her life.\n\nAfter even Melanippe, the brave leader of the Amazons, was made\ncaptive, all the rest took to wild flight, and Hippolyta the queen\nhanded over the sword belt which she had promised even before the\nfight. Hercules took it as ransom and set Melanippe free.\n\n\nTHE TENTH LABOR\n\nWhen the hero laid the sword belt of Queen Hippolyta at the feet of\nEurystheus, the latter gave him no rest, but sent him out immediately\nto procure the cattle of the giant Geryone. The latter dwelt on an\nisland in the midst of the sea, and possessed a herd of beautiful\nred-brown cattle, which were guarded by another giant and a two-headed\ndog.\n\nGeryone himself was enormous, had three bodies, three heads, six arms\nand six feet. No son of earth had ever measured his strength against\nhim, and Hercules realized exactly how many preparations were\nnecessary for this heavy undertaking. As everybody knew, Geryone's\nfather, who bore the name \"Gold-Sword\" because of his riches, was king\nof all Iberia (Spain). Besides Geryone he had three brave giant sons\nwho fought for him; and each son had a mighty army of soldiers under\nhis command. For these very reasons had Eurystheus given the task to\nHercules, for he hoped that his hated existence would at last be ended\nin a war in such a country. Yet Hercules set out on this undertaking\nno more dismayed than on any previous expedition.\n\nHe gathered together his army on the island of Crete, which he had\nfreed from wild animals, and landed first in Libya. Here he met the\ngiant Antaeus, whose strength was renewed as often as he touched the\nearth. He also freed Libya of birds of prey; for he hated wild\nanimals and wicked men because he saw in all of them the image of the\noverbearing and unjust lord whom he so long had served.\n\nAfter long wandering through desert country he came at last to a\nfruitful land, through which great streams flowed. Here he founded a\ncity of vast size, which he named Hecatompylos (City of a Hundred\nGates). Then at last he reached the Atlantic Ocean and planted the two\nmighty pillars which bear his name.\n\nThe sun burned so fiercely that Hercules could bear it no longer; he\nraised his eyes to heaven and with raised bow threatened the sun-god.\nApollo wondered at his courage and lent him for his further journeys\nthe bark in which he himself was accustomed to lie from sunset to\nsunrise. In this Hercules sailed to Iberia.\n\nHere he found the three sons of Gold-Sword with three great armies\ncamping near each other; but he killed all the leaders and plundered\nthe land. Then he sailed to the island Erythia, where Geryone dwelt\nwith his herds.\n\nAs soon as the two-headed dog knew of his approach he sprang toward\nhim; but Hercules struck him with his club and killed him. He killed\nalso the giant herdsman who came to the help of the dog. Then he\nhurried away with the cattle.\n\nBut Geryone overtook him and there was a fierce struggle. Juno herself\noffered to assist the giant; but Hercules shot her with an arrow deep\nin the heart, and the goddess, wounded, fled. Even the threefold body\nof the giant which ran together in the region of the stomach, felt the\nmight of the deadly arrows and was forced to yield.\n\nWith glorious adventures Hercules continued his way home, driving the\ncattle across country through Iberia and Italy. At Rhegium in lower\nItaly one of his oxen got away and swam across the strait to Sicily.\nImmediately Hercules drove the other cattle into the water and swam,\nholding one by the horns, to Sicily. Then the hero pursued his way\nwithout misfortune through Italy, Illyria and Thrace to Greece.\n\nHercules had now accomplished ten labors; but Eurystheus was still\nunsatisfied and there were two more tasks to be undertaken.\n\n\nTHE ELEVENTH LABOR\n\nAt the celebration of the marriage of Jupiter and Juno, when all the\ngods were bringing their wedding gifts to the happy pair, Mother Earth\ndid not wish to be left out. So she caused to spring forth on the\nwestern borders of the great world-sea a many-branched tree full of\ngolden apples. Four maidens called the Hesperides, daughters of Night,\nwere the guardians of this sacred garden, and with them watched the\nhundred-headed dragon, Ladon, whose father was Phorkys, the parent of\nmany monsters. Sleep came never to the eyes of this dragon and a\nfearful hissing sound warned one of his presence, for each of his\nhundred throats had a different voice. From this monster, so was the\ncommand of Eurystheus, should Hercules seize the golden apples.\n\nThe hero set out on his long and adventurous journey and placed\nhimself in the hands of blind chance, for he did not know where the\nHesperides dwelt.\n\nHe went first to Thessaly, where dwelt the giant Termerus, who with\nhis skull knocked to death every traveler that he met; but on the\nmighty cranium of Hercules the head of the giant himself was split\nopen.\n\nFarther on the hero came upon another monster in his way--Cycnus, the\nson of Mars and Pyrene. He, when asked concerning the garden of the\nHesperides, instead of answering, challenged the wanderer to a duel,\nand was beaten by Hercules. Then appeared Mars, the god of war,\nhimself, to avenge the death of his son; and Hercules was forced to\nfight with him. But Jupiter did not wish that his sons should shed\nblood, and sent his lightning bolt to separate the two.\n\nThen Hercules continued his way through Illyria, hastened over the\nriver Eridanus, and came to the nymphs of Jupiter and Themis, who\ndwelt on the banks of the stream. To these Hercules put his question.\n\n\"Go to the old river god Nereus,\" was their answer. \"He is a seer and\nknows all things. Surprise him while he sleeps and bind him; then he\nwill be forced to tell you the right way.\"\n\nHercules followed this advice and became master of the river god,\nalthough the latter, according to his custom, assumed many different\nforms. Hercules would not let him go until he had learned in what\nlocality he could find the golden apples of the Hesperides.\n\nInformed of this, he went on his way toward Libya and Egypt. Over the\nlatter land ruled Busiris, the son of Neptune and Lysianassa. To him\nduring the period of a nine-year famine a prophet had borne the\noracular message that the land would again bear fruit if a stranger\nwere sacrificed once a year to Jupiter. In gratitude Busiris made a\nbeginning with the priest himself. Later he found great pleasure in\nthe custom and killed all strangers who came to Egypt. So Hercules was\nseized and placed on the altar of Jupiter. But he broke the chains\nwhich bound him, and killed Busiris and his son and the priestly\nherald.\n\nWith many adventures the hero continued his way, set free, as has been\ntold elsewhere, Prometheus, the Titan, who was bound to the Caucasus\nMountains, and came at last to the place where Atlas stood carrying\nthe weight of the heavens on his shoulders. Near him grew the tree\nwhich bore the golden apples of the Hesperides.\n\nPrometheus had advised the hero not to attempt himself to make the\nrobbery of the golden fruit, but to send Atlas on the errand. The\ngiant offered to do this if Hercules would support the heavens while\nhe went. This Hercules consented to do, and Atlas set out. He put to\nsleep the dragon who lived beneath the tree and killed him. Then with\na trick he got the better of the keepers, and returned happily to\nHercules with the three apples which he had plucked.\n\n\"But,\" he said, \"I have now found out how it feels to be relieved of\nthe heavy burden of the heavens. I will not carry them any longer.\"\nThen he threw the apples down at the feet of the hero, and left him\nstanding with the unaccustomed, awful weight upon his shoulders.\n\nHercules had to think of a trick in order to get away. \"Let me,\" he\nsaid to the giant, \"just make a coil of rope to bind around my head,\nso that the frightful weight will not cause my forehead to give way.\"\n\nAtlas found this new demand reasonable, and consented to take over the\nburden again for a few minutes. But the deceiver was at last deceived,\nand Hercules picked up the apples from the ground and set out on his\nway back. He carried the apples to Eurystheus, who, since his object\nof getting rid of the hero had not been accomplished, gave them back\nto Hercules as a present. The latter laid them on the altar of\nMinerva; but the goddess, knowing that it was contrary to the divine\nwishes to carry away this sacred fruit, returned the apples to the\ngarden of the Hesperides.\n\n\nTHE TWELFTH LABOR\n\nInstead of destroying his hated enemy the labors which Eurystheus had\nimposed upon Hercules had only strengthened the hero in the fame for\nwhich fate had selected him. He had become the protector of all the\nwronged upon earth, and the boldest adventurer among mortals.\n\nBut the last labor he was to undertake in the region in which his\nhero strength--so the impious king hoped--would not accompany him.\nThis was a fight with the dark powers of the underworld. He was to\nbring forth from Hades Cerberus, the dog of Hell. This animal had\nthree heads with frightful jaws, from which incessantly poison flowed.\nA dragon's tail hung from his body, and the hair of his head and of\nhis back formed hissing, coiling serpents.\n\nTo prepare himself for this fearful journey Hercules went to the city\nof Eleusis, in Attic territory, where, from a wise priest, he received\nsecret instruction in the things of the upper and lower world, and\nwhere also he received pardon for the murder of the Centaur.\n\nThen, with strength to meet the horrors of the underworld, Hercules\ntraveled on to Peloponnesus, and to the Laconian city of Taenarus,\nwhich contained the opening to the lower world. Here, accompanied by\nMercury, he descended through a cleft in the earth, and came to the\nentrance of the city of King Pluto. The shades which sadly wandered\nback and forth before the gates of the city took flight as soon as\nthey caught sight of flesh and blood in the form of a living man. Only\nthe Gorgon Medusa and the spirit of Meleager remained. The former\nHercules wished to overthrow with his sword, but Mercury touched him\non the arm and told him that the souls of the departed were only empty\nshadow pictures and could not be wounded by mortal weapons.\n\nWith the soul of Meleager the hero chatted in friendly fashion, and\nreceived from him loving messages for the upper world. Still nearer to\nthe gates of Hades Hercules caught sight of his friends Theseus and\nPirithous. When both saw the friendly form of Hercules they stretched\nbeseeching hands towards him, trembling with the hope that through his\nstrength they might again reach the upper world. Hercules grasped\nTheseus by the hand, freed him from his chains and raised him from the\nground. A second attempt to free Pirithous did not succeed, for the\nground opened beneath his feet.\n\nAt the gate of the City of the Dead stood King Pluto, and denied\nentrance to Hercules. But with an arrow the hero shot the god in the\nshoulder, so that he feared the mortal; and when Hercules then asked\nwhether he might lead away the dog of Hades he did not longer oppose\nhim. But he imposed the condition that Hercules should become master\nof Cerberus without using any weapons. So the hero set out, protected\nonly with cuirass and the lion skin.\n\nHe found the dog camping near the dwelling of Acheron, and without\npaying any attention to the bellowing of the three heads, which was\nlike the echo of fearful resounding thunder, he seized the dog by the\nlegs, put his arms around his neck, and would not let him go, although\nthe dragon tail of the animal bit him in the cheek.\n\nHe held the neck of Cerberus firm, and did not let go until he was\nreally master of the monster. Then he raised it, and through another\nopening of Hades returned in happiness to his own country. When the\ndog of Hades saw the light of day he was afraid and began to spit\npoison, from which poisonous plants sprung up out of the earth.\nHercules brought the monster in chains to Tirynth, and led it before\nthe astonished Eurystheus, who could not believe his eyes.\n\nNow at last the king doubted whether he could ever rid himself of the\nhated son of Jupiter. He yielded to his fate and dismissed the hero,\nwho led the dog of Hades back to his owner in the lower world.\n\nThus Hercules after all his labors was at last set free from the\nservice of Eurystheus, and returned to Thebes.\n\n\n\n\nDEUCALION AND PYRRHA\n\n\nWhile the men of the Age of Bronze still dwelt upon the earth reports\nof their wickedness were carried to Jupiter. The god decided to verify\nthe reports by coming to earth himself in the form of a man, and\neverywhere he went he found that the reports were much milder than the\ntruth.\n\nOne evening in the late twilight he entered the inhospitable shelter\nof the Arcadian King Lycaon, who was famed for his wild conduct. By\nseveral signs he let it be known that he was a god, and the crowd\ndropped to their knees; but Lycaon made light of the pious prayers.\n\n\"Let us see,\" he said, \"whether he is a mortal or a god.\"\n\nThereupon he decided to destroy the guest that night while he lay in\nslumber, not expecting death. But before doing so he killed a poor\nhostage whom the Molossians had sent to him, cooked the half-living\nlimbs in boiling water or broiled them over a fire, and placed them on\nthe table before the guest for his evening meal.\n\nBut Jupiter, who knew all this, left the table and sent a raging fire\nover the castle of the godless man. Frightened, the king fled into the\nopen field. The first cry he uttered was a howl; his garments changed\nto fur; his arms to legs; he was transformed into a bloodthirsty wolf.\n\nJupiter returned to Olympus, held counsel with the gods and decided to\ndestroy the reckless race of men. At first he wanted to turn his\nlightnings over all the earth, but the fear that the ether would take\nfire and destroy the axle of the universe restrained him. He laid\naside the thunderbolt which the Cyclops had fashioned for him, and\ndecided to send rain from heaven over all the earth and so destroy the\nrace of mortals.\n\nImmediately the North Wind and all the other cloud-scattering winds\nwere locked in the cave of Aeolus, and only the South Wind sent out.\nThe latter descended upon the earth; his frightful face was covered\nwith darkness; his beard was heavy with clouds; from his white hair\nran the flood; mists lay upon his brow; from his bosom dropped the\nwater. The South Wind grasped the heavens, seized in his hands the\nsurrounding clouds and began to squeeze them. The thunder rolled;\nfloods of rain burst from the heavens. The standing corn was bent to\nthe earth; destroyed was the hope of the farmer; destroyed the weary\nwork of a whole year.\n\nEven Neptune, god of the sea, came to the assistance of his brother\nJupiter in the work of destruction. He called all the rivers together\nand said, \"Give full rein to your torrents; enter houses; break\nthrough all dams!\"\n\nThey followed his command, and Neptune himself struck the earth with\nhis trident and let the flood enter. Then the waters streamed over the\nopen meadows, covered the fields, dislodged trees, temples and houses.\nWherever a palace stood, its gables were soon covered with water and\nthe highest turrets were hidden in the torrent. Sea and earth were no\nlonger divided; all was flood--an unbroken stretch of water.\n\nMen tried to save themselves as best they could; some climbed the high\nmountains; others entered boats and rowed, now over the roofs of the\nfallen houses, now over the hills of their ruined vineyards. Fish swam\namong the branches of the highest trees; the wild boar was caught in\nthe flood; people were swept away by the water and those whom the\nflood spared died of hunger on the barren mountains.\n\n[Illustration: DEUCALION AND PYRRHA CASTING THE BONES OF THEIR MOTHER\nBEHIND THEM]\n\nOne high mountain in the country of Phocis still raised two peaks\nabove the surrounding waters. It was the great Mount Parnassus. Toward\nthis floated a boat containing Deucalion, the son of Prometheus,\nand his wife Pyrrha. No man, no woman, had ever been found who\nsurpassed these in righteousness and piety. When, therefore, Jupiter,\nlooking down from heaven upon the earth, saw that only a single pair\nof mortals remained of the many thousand times a thousand, both\nblameless, both devoted servants of the gods, he sent forth the North\nWind, recalled the clouds, and once again separated the earth from the\nheavens and the heavens from the earth.\n\nEven Neptune, lord of the sea, laid down his trident and calmed the\nflood. The ocean resumed its banks; the rivers returned to their beds;\nforests stretched their slime-covered tree-tops out of the deep; hills\nfollowed; finally stretches of level land appeared and the earth was\nas before.\n\nDeucalion looked around him. The country was laid waste; it was\nwrapped in the silence of the grave. Tears rolled down his cheeks and\nhe said to his wife, Pyrrha, \"Beloved, solitary companion of my life,\nas far as I can see through all the surrounding country, I can\ndiscover no living creature. We two must people the earth; all the\nrest have been drowned by the flood. But even we are not yet certain\nof our lives. Every cloud that I see strikes terror to my soul. And\neven if danger is past, what shall we do alone on the forsaken earth?\nOh, that my father Prometheus had taught me the art of creating men\nand breathing life into them!\"\n\nThen the two began to weep. They threw themselves on their knees\nbefore the half-destroyed altar of the goddess Themis, and began to\npray, saying, \"Tell us, O goddess, by what means we can replace the\nrace that has disappeared? Oh, help the earth to new life.\"\n\n\"Leave my altar,\" sounded the voice of the goddess. \"Uncover your\nheads, ungird your garments and cast the bones of your mother behind\nyou.\"\n\nFor a long time Deucalion and Pyrrha wondered over the puzzling words\nof the goddess. Pyrrha was the first to break the silence. \"Pardon me,\nO noble goddess,\" she said, \"if I do not obey you and cannot consent\nto scatter the bones of my mother.\"\n\nThen Deucalion had a happy thought. He comforted his wife. \"Either my\nreason deceives me,\" he said, \"or the command of the goddess is good\nand involves no impiety. The great mother of all of us is the Earth;\nher bones are the stones, and these, Pyrrha, we will cast behind us!\"\n\nBoth mistrusted this interpretation of the words, but what harm would\nit do to try? Thereupon they uncovered their heads, ungirded their\ngarments and began casting stones behind them.\n\nThen a wonderful thing happened. The stone began to lose its hardness,\nbecame malleable, grew and took form--not definite at once, but rude\nfigures such as an artist first hews out of the rough marble. Whatever\nwas moist or earthy in the stones was changed into flesh; the harder\nparts became bones; the veins in the rock remained as veins in the\nbodies. Thus, in a little while, with the aid of the gods, the stones\nwhich Deucalion threw assumed the form of men; those which Pyrrha\nthrew, the form of women.\n\nThis homely origin the race of men does not deny; they are a hardy\npeople, accustomed to work. Every moment of the day they remember from\nwhat sturdy stock they have sprung.\n\n\n\n\nTHESEUS AND THE CENTAUR\n\n\nTheseus, the hero king of Athens, had a reputation for great strength\nand bravery; but Pirithous, the son of Ixion, one of the most famous\nheroes of antiquity, wished to put him to the test. He therefore drove\nthe cattle which belonged to Theseus away from Marathon, and when he\nheard that Theseus, weapon in hand, was following him, then, indeed,\nhe had what he desired. He did not flee, but turned around to meet\nhim.\n\nWhen the two heroes were near enough to see each other, each was so\nfilled with admiration for the beautiful form and the bravery of his\nopponent that, as if at a given signal, both threw down their weapons\nand hastened toward each other. Pirithous extended his hand to Theseus\nand proposed that the latter act as arbitrator for the settlement of\nthe dispute about the cattle: whatever satisfaction Theseus would\ndemand Pirithous would willingly give.\n\n\"The only satisfaction which I desire,\" answered Pirithous, \"is that\nyou instead of my enemy become my friend and comrade in arms.\"\n\nThen the two heroes embraced each other and swore eternal friendship.\n\nSoon after this Pirithous chose the Thessalian princess, Hippodamia,\nfrom the race of Lapith\u00e6, for his bride, and invited Theseus to the\nwedding. The Lapith\u00e6, among whom the ceremony took place, were a\nfamous family of Thessalians, rugged mountaineers, in some respects\nresembling animals--the first mortals who had learned to manage a\nhorse. But the bride, who had sprung from this race, was not at all\nlike the men of her people. She was of noble form, with delicate\nyouthful face, so beautiful that all the guests praised Pirithous for\nhis good fortune.\n\nThe assembled princes of Thessaly were at the wedding feast, and also\nthe Centaurs, relatives of Pirithous. The Centaurs were half men, the\noffspring which a cloud, assuming the form of the goddess Hera, had\nborn to Ixion, the father of Pirithous. They were the eternal enemies\nof the Lapith\u00e6. Upon this occasion, however, and for the sake of the\nbride, they had forgotten past grudges and come together to the joyful\ncelebration. The noble castle of Pirithous resounded with glad tumult;\nbridal songs were sung; wine and food abounded. Indeed, there were so\nmany guests that the palace would not accommodate all. The Lapith\u00e6 and\nCentaurs sat at a special table in a grotto shaded by trees.\n\nFor a long time the festivities went on with undisturbed happiness.\nThen the wine began to stir the heart of the wildest of the Centaurs,\nEurytion, and the beauty of the Princess Hippodamia awoke in him the\nmad desire of robbing the bridegroom of his bride. Nobody knew how it\ncame to pass; nobody noticed the beginning of the unthinkable act; but\nsuddenly the guests saw the wild Eurytion lifting Hippodamia from her\nfeet, while she struggled and cried for help. His deed was the signal\nfor the rest of the drunken Centaurs to do likewise, and before the\nstrange heroes and the Lapith\u00e6 could leave their places, every one of\nthe Centaurs had roughly seized one of the Thessalian princesses who\nserved at the court of the king or who had assembled as guests at the\nwedding.\n\nThe castle and the grotto resembled a besieged city; the cry of the\nwomen sounded far and wide. Quickly friends and relatives sprang from\ntheir places.\n\n\"What delusion is this, Eurytion,\" cried Theseus, \"to vex Pirithous\nwhile I still live, and by so doing arouse the anger of two heroes?\"\nWith these words he forced his way through the crowd and tore the\nstolen bride from the struggling robber.\n\n[Illustration: THE CENTAUR FELL BACKWARD]\n\nEurytion said nothing, for he could not excuse his deed, but he\nlifted his hand toward Theseus and gave him a rough knock in the\nchest. Then Theseus, who had no weapon at hand, seized an iron jug of\nembossed workmanship which stood near by and flung it into the face of\nhis opponent with such force that the Centaur fell backward on the\nground, while brains and blood oozed from the wound in his head.\n\n\"To arms!\" the cry arose from all sides. At first beakers, flasks and\nbowls flew back and forth. Then one sacrilegious monster grabbed the\noblations from the neighboring apartments. Another tore down the lamp\nwhich burned over the table, while still another fought with a\nsacrificial deer which had hung on one side of the grotto. A frightful\nslaughter ensued. Rhoetus, the most wicked of the Centaurs after\nEurytion, seized the largest brand from the altar and thrust it into\nthe gaping wound of one of the fallen Lapith\u00e6, so that the blood\nhissed like iron in a furnace. In opposition to him rose Dryas, the\nbravest of the Lapith\u00e6, and seizing a glowing log from the fire,\nthrust it into the Centaur's neck. The fate of this Centaur atoned for\nthe death of his fallen companion, and Dryas turned to the raging mob\nand laid five of them low.\n\nThen the spear of the brave hero Pirithous flew forth and pierced a\nmighty Centaur, Petraeus, just as he was about to uproot a tree to use\nit for a club. The spear pinned him against the knotted oak. A second,\nDictys, fell at the stroke of the Greek hero, and in falling snapped\noff a mighty ash tree; a third, wishing to avenge him, was crushed by\nTheseus with an oak club.\n\nThe most beautiful and youthful of the Centaurs was Cyllarus. His long\nhair and beard were golden; his smile was friendly; his neck,\nshoulders, hands and breast were as beautiful as if formed by an\nartist. Even the lower part of his body, the part which resembled a\nhorse, was faultless, pitch-black in color, with legs and tail of\nlighter dye. He had come to the feast with his wife, the beautiful\nCentaur, Hylonome, who at the table had leaned gracefully against him\nand even now united with him in the raging fight. He received from an\nunknown hand a light wound near his heart, and sank dying in the arms\nof his wife. Hylonome nursed his dying form, kissed him and tried to\nretain the fleeting breath. When she saw that he was gone she drew a\ndagger from her breast and stabbed herself.\n\nFor a long time still the fight between the Lapith\u00e6 and the Centaurs\ncontinued, but at last night put an end to the tumult. Then Pirithous\nremained in undisturbed possession of his bride, and on the following\nmorning Theseus departed, bidding farewell to his friend. The common\nfight had quickly welded the fresh tie of their brotherhood into an\nindestructible bond.\n\n\n\n\nNIOBE\n\n\nNiobe, Queen of Thebes, was proud of many things. Amphion, her\nhusband, had received from the Muses a wonderful lyre, to the music of\nwhich the stones of the royal palace had of themselves assumed place.\nHer father was Tantalus, who had been entertained by the gods; and she\nherself was the ruler of a powerful kingdom and a woman of great pride\nof spirit and majestic beauty. But of none of these things was she so\nproud as she was of her fourteen lovely children, the seven sons and\nseven daughters to whom she had given birth.\n\nIndeed, Niobe was the happiest of all mothers, and so would she have\nremained if she had not believed herself so peculiarly blessed. Her\nvery knowledge of her good fortune was her undoing.\n\nOne day the prophetess Manto, daughter of the soothsayer Tiresias,\nbeing instructed of the gods, called together the women of Thebes to\ndo honor to the goddess Latona and her two children, Apollo and Diana.\n\"Put laurel wreaths upon your heads,\" were her commands, \"and bring\nsacrifices with pious prayers.\"\n\nThen while the women of Thebes were gathering together, Niobe came\nforth, clad in a gold-embroidered garment, with a crowd of followers,\nradiant in her beauty, though angry, with her hair flowing about her\nshoulders. She stopped in the midst of the busy women, and raising her\nvoice, spoke to them.\n\n\"Are you not foolish to worship gods of whom stories are told to you\nwhen more favored beings dwell here among you? While you are making\nsacrifices on the altar of Latona, why does my divine name remain\nunknown? My father Tantalus is the only mortal who has ever sat at the\ntable of the gods; and my mother Dione is the sister of the Pleiades,\nwho as bright stars shine nightly in the heavens. One of my uncles is\nthe giant Atlas, who on his neck supports the vaulted heavens; my\ngrandfather is Jupiter, the father of the gods. The people of Phrygia\nobey me, and to me and my husband belongs the city of Cadmus, the\nwalls of which were put together by the music that my husband played.\nEvery corner of my palace is filled with priceless treasures; and\nthere, too, are other treasures--children such as no other mother can\nshow: seven beautiful daughters, seven sturdy sons, and just as many\nsons- and daughters-in-law. Ask now whether I have ground for pride.\nConsider again before you honor more than me Latona, the unknown\ndaughter of the Titans, who could find no place in the whole earth in\nwhich she might rest and give birth to her children until the island\nof Delos in compassion offered her a precarious shelter. There she\nbecame the mother of two children--the poor creature! Just the seventh\npart of my mother joy! Who can deny that I am fortunate? Who will\ndoubt that I shall remain happy? Fortune would have a hard time if she\nundertook to shatter my happiness. Take this or that one from my\ntreasured children; but when would the number of them dwindle to the\nsickly two of Latona? Away with your sacrifices! Take the laurel out\nof your hair. Go back to your homes and let me never see such\nfoolishness again!\"\n\nFrightened at the outburst, the women removed the wreaths from their\nheads, left their sacrifices and slunk home, still honoring Latona\nwith silent prayer.\n\nOn the summit of the Delian mountain Cynthas stood Latona with her two\nchildren, watching what was taking place in distant Thebes. \"See, my\nchildren,\" she said, \"I, your mother, who am so proud of your birth,\nwho yield place to no goddess except Juno, I am held up to ridicule by\nan upstart mortal, and if you do not defend me, my children, I shall\nbe driven away from the ancient and holy altars. Yes, you too are\ninsulted by Niobe, and she would like to have you set aside for her\nchildren!\"\n\nLatona was about to go on, but Apollo interrupted her: \"Cease your\nlamentations, mother; you only delay the punishment.\"\n\nThen he and his sister wrapped themselves in a magic cloud cloak that\nmade them invisible, and flew swiftly through the air until they\nreached the town and castle of Cadmus.\n\nJust outside the walls of the city was an open field that was used as\na race-course and practice ground for horses. Here the seven sons of\nAmphion were amusing themselves, when suddenly the oldest dropped his\nreins with a cry and fell from his horse, pierced to the heart by an\narrow. One after another the whole seven were struck down.\n\nThe news of the disaster soon spread through the city. Amphion, when\nhe heard that all his sons had perished, fell on his own sword. Then\nthe loud cries of his servants penetrated to the women's quarters.\n\nFor a long time Niobe could not believe that the gods had thus brought\nvengeance. When she did, how unlike was she to the Niobe who drove the\npeople from the altars of the mighty goddess and strode through the\ncity with haughty mien. Crazed with grief she rushed out to the field\nwhere her sons had been stricken, threw herself on their dead bodies,\nkissing now this one and now that. Then, raising her arms to heaven,\nshe cried, \"Look now upon my distress, thou cruel Latona; for the\ndeath of these seven bows me to the earth. Triumph thou, O my\nvictorious enemy!\"\n\nNow the seven daughters of Niobe, clad in garments of mourning, drew\nnear, and with loosened hair stood around their brothers. And the\nsight of them brought a ray of joy to Niobe's white face. She forgot\nher grief for a moment, and casting a scornful look to heaven, said,\n\"Victor! No, for even in my loss I have more than thou in thy\nhappiness!\"\n\nHardly had she spoken when there was the sound of a drawn bow. The\nbystanders grew cold with fear, but Niobe was not frightened, for\nmisfortune had made her strong.\n\nSuddenly one of the sisters put her hand to her breast and drew out an\narrow that had pierced her; then, unconscious, she sank to the ground.\nAnother daughter hastened to her mother to comfort her, but before she\ncould reach her she was laid low by a hidden wound. One after another\nthe rest fell, until only the last was left. She had fled to Niobe's\nlap and childlike was hiding her face in her mother's garments.\n\n\"Leave me only this one,\" cried Niobe, \"just the youngest of so many.\"\n\nBut even while she prayed the child fell lifeless from her lap, and\nNiobe sat alone among the dead bodies of her husband, her sons and her\ndaughters. She was speechless with grief; no breath of air stirred the\nhair on her head; the blood left her face; the eyes remained fixed on\nthe grief-stricken countenance; in the whole body there was no longer\nany sign of life. The veins ceased to carry blood; the neck stiffened;\narms and feet grew rigid; the whole body was transformed into cold and\nlifeless stone. Nothing living remained to her except her tears, which\ncontinued flowing from her stony eyes.\n\nThen a mighty wind lifted the image of stone, carried it over the sea\nand set it down in Lydia, the old home of Niobe, in the barren\nmountains under the stony cliffs of Sipylus. Here Niobe remained fixed\nas a marble statue on the summit of the mountain, and to this very day\nyou can see the grief-stricken mother in tears.\n\n[Illustration: NIOBE WEEPING FOR HER CHILDREN]\n\n\n\n\nTHE GORGON'S HEAD\n\n\nPerseus was the son of Dana\u00eb, who was the daughter of a king. And when\nPerseus was a very little boy, some wicked people put his mother and\nhimself into a chest and set them afloat upon the sea. The wind blew\nfreshly and drove the chest away from the shore, and the uneasy\nbillows tossed it up and down; while Dana\u00eb clasped her child closely\nto her bosom, and dreaded that some big wave would dash its foamy\ncrest over them both. The chest sailed on, however, and neither sank\nnor was upset, until, when night was coming, it floated so near an\nisland that it got entangled in a fisherman's nets and was drawn out\nhigh and dry upon the sand. This island was called Seriphus and it was\nreigned over by King Polydectes, who happened to be the fisherman's\nbrother.\n\nThis fisherman, I am glad to tell you, was an exceedingly humane and\nupright man. He showed great kindness to Dana\u00eb and her little boy, and\ncontinued to befriend them until Perseus had grown to be a handsome\nyouth, very strong and active and skilful in the use of arms. Long\nbefore this time King Polydectes had seen the two strangers--the\nmother and her child--who had come to his dominions in a floating\nchest. As he was not good and kind, like his brother the fisherman,\nbut extremely wicked, he resolved to send Perseus on a dangerous\nenterprise, in which he would probably be killed, and then to do some\ngreat mischief to Dana\u00eb herself. So this bad-hearted king spent a long\nwhile in considering what was the most dangerous thing that a young\nman could possibly undertake to perform. At last, having hit upon an\nenterprise that promised to turn out as fatally as he desired, he sent\nfor the youthful Perseus.\n\nThe young man came to the palace and found the king sitting upon his\nthrone.\n\n\"Perseus,\" said King Polydectes, smiling craftily upon him, \"you are\ngrown up a fine young man. You and your good mother have received a\ngreat deal of kindness from myself, as well as from my worthy brother\nthe fisherman, and I suppose you would not be sorry to repay some of\nit.\"\n\n\"Please, your Majesty,\" answered Perseus, \"I would willingly risk my\nlife to do so.\"\n\n\"Well, then,\" continued the king, still with a cunning smile on his\nlips, \"I have a little adventure to propose to you, and as you are a\nbrave and enterprising youth, you will doubtless look upon it as a\ngreat piece of good luck to have so rare an opportunity of\ndistinguishing yourself. You must know, my good Perseus, I think of\ngetting married to the beautiful Princess Hippodamia, and it is\ncustomary on these occasions to make the bride a present of some\nfar-fetched and elegant curiosity. I have been a little perplexed, I\nmust honestly confess, where to obtain anything likely to please a\nprincess of her exquisite taste. But this morning, I flatter myself, I\nhave thought of precisely the article.\"\n\n\"And can I assist your Majesty in obtaining it?\" cried Perseus,\neagerly.\n\n\"You can if you are as brave a youth as I believe you to be,\" replied\nKing Polydectes with the utmost graciousness of manner. \"The bridal\ngift which I have set my heart on presenting to the beautiful\nHippodamia is the head of the Gorgon Medusa with the snaky locks; and\nI depend on you, my dear Perseus, to bring it to me. So, as I am\nanxious to settle affairs with the princess, the sooner you go in\nquest of the Gorgon, the better I shall be pleased.\"\n\n\"I will set out tomorrow morning,\" answered Perseus.\n\n\"Pray do so, my gallant youth,\" rejoined the king. \"And, Perseus, in\ncutting off the Gorgon's head, be careful to make a clean stroke, so\nas not to injure its appearance. You must bring it home in the very\nbest condition in order to suit the exquisite taste of the beautiful\nPrincess Hippodamia.\"\n\nPerseus left the palace, but was scarcely out of hearing before\nPolydectes burst into a laugh, being greatly amused, wicked king that\nhe was, to find how readily the young man fell into the snare. The\nnews quickly spread abroad that Perseus had undertaken to cut off the\nhead of Medusa with the snaky locks. Everybody was rejoiced, for most\nof the inhabitants of the island were as wicked as the king himself\nand would have liked nothing better than to see some enormous mischief\nhappen to Dana\u00eb and her son. The only good man in this unfortunate\nisland of Seriphus appears to have been the fisherman. As Perseus\nwalked along, therefore, the people pointed after him and made mouths,\nand winked to one another and ridiculed him as loudly as they dared.\n\n\"Ho, ho!\" cried they; \"Medusa's snakes will sting him soundly!\"\n\nNow, there were three Gorgons alive at that period, and they were the\nmost strange and terrible monsters that had ever been since the world\nwas made, or that have been seen in after days, or that are likely to\nbe seen in all time to come. I hardly know what sort of creature or\nhobgoblin to call them. They were three sisters and seem to have borne\nsome distant resemblance to women, but were really a very frightful\nand mischievous species of dragon. It is, indeed, difficult to imagine\nwhat hideous beings these three sisters were. Why, instead of locks of\nhair, if you can believe men, they had each of them a hundred enormous\nsnakes growing on their heads, all alive, twisting, wriggling, curling\nand thrusting out their venomous tongues, with forked stings at the\nend! The teeth of the Gorgons were terribly long tusks, their hands\nwere made of brass, and their bodies were all over scales, which, if\nnot iron, were something as hard and impenetrable. They had wings,\ntoo, and exceedingly splendid ones, I can assure you, for every\nfeather in them was pure, bright, glittering, burnished gold; and they\nlooked very dazzling, no doubt, when the Gorgons were flying about in\nthe sunshine.\n\nBut when people happened to catch a glimpse of their glittering\nbrightness, aloft in the air, they seldom stopped to gaze, but ran and\nhid themselves as speedily as they could. You will think, perhaps,\nthat they were afraid of being stung by the serpents that served the\nGorgons instead of hair--or of having their heads bitten off by their\nugly tusks--or of being torn all to pieces by their brazen claws.\nWell, to be sure, these were some of the dangers, but by no means the\ngreatest nor the most difficult to avoid. For the worst thing about\nthese abominable Gorgons was that if once a poor mortal fixed his eyes\nfull upon one of their faces, he was certain that very instant to be\nchanged from warm flesh and blood into cold and lifeless stone!\n\nThus, as you will easily perceive, it was a very dangerous adventure\nthat the wicked King Polydectes had contrived for this innocent young\nman. Perseus himself, when he had thought over the matter, could not\nhelp seeing that he had very little chance of coming safely through\nit, and that he was far more likely to become a stone image than to\nbring back the head of Medusa with the snaky locks. For, not to speak\nof other difficulties, there was one which it would have puzzled an\nolder man than Perseus to get over. Not only must he fight with and\nslay this golden-winged, iron-scaled, long-tusked, brazen-clawed,\nsnaky-haired monster, but he must do it with his eyes shut, or, at\nleast, without so much as a glance at the enemy with whom he was\ncontending. Else, while his arm was lifted to strike, he would stiffen\ninto stone and stand with that uplifted arm for centuries, until time\nand the wind and weather should crumble him quite away. This would be\na very sad thing to befall a young man who wanted to perform a great\nmany brave deeds and to enjoy a great deal of happiness in this bright\nand beautiful world.\n\nSo disconsolate did these thoughts make him that Perseus could not\nbear to tell his mother what he had undertaken to do. He therefore\ntook his shield, girded on his sword and crossed over from the island\nto the mainland, where he sat down in a solitary place and hardly\nrefrained from shedding tears.\n\nBut while he was in this sorrowful mood, he heard a voice close beside\nhim.\n\n\"Perseus,\" said the voice, \"why are you sad?\"\n\nHe lifted his head from his hands, in which he had hidden it, and\nbehold! all alone as Perseus had supposed himself to be, there was a\nstranger in the solitary place. It was a brisk, intelligent and\nremarkably shrewd-looking young man, with a cloak over his shoulders,\nan odd sort of cap on his head, a strangely twisted staff in his hand\nand a short and very crooked sword hanging by his side. He was\nexceedingly light and active in his figure, like a person much\naccustomed to gymnastic exercises and well able to leap or run. Above\nall, the stranger had such a cheerful, knowing and helpful aspect\n(though it was certainly a little mischievous, into the bargain) that\nPerseus could not help feeling his spirits grow livelier as he gazed\nat him. Besides, being really a courageous youth, he felt greatly\nashamed that anybody should have found him with tears in his eyes like\na timid little schoolboy, when, after all, there might be no occasion\nfor despair. So Perseus wiped his eyes and answered the stranger\npretty briskly, putting on as brave a look as he could.\n\n\"I am not so very sad,\" said he, \"only thoughtful about an adventure\nthat I have undertaken.\"\n\n\"Oho!\" answered the stranger. \"Well, tell me all about it and\npossibly I may be of service to you. I have helped a good many young\nmen through adventures that looked difficult enough beforehand.\nPerhaps you may have heard of me. I have more names than one, but the\nname of Quicksilver suits me as well as any other. Tell me what the\ntrouble is and we will talk the matter over and see what can be done.\"\n\nThe stranger's words and manner put Perseus into quite a different\nmood from his former one. He resolved to tell Quicksilver all his\ndifficulties, since he could not easily be worse off than he already\nwas, and, very possibly, his new friend might give him some advice\nthat would turn out well in the end. So he let the stranger know in\nfew words precisely what was the case--how the King Polydectes wanted\nthe head of Medusa with the snaky locks as a bridal gift for the\nbeautiful Princess Hippodamia and how that he had undertaken to get it\nfor him, but was afraid of being turned into stone.\n\n\"And that would be a great pity,\" said Quicksilver, with his\nmischievous smile. \"You would make a very handsome marble statue, it\nis true, and it would be a considerable number of centuries before you\ncrumbled away; but, on the whole, one would rather be a young man for\na few years than a stone image for a great many.\"\n\n\"Oh, far rather!\" exclaimed Perseus, with the tears again standing in\nhis eyes. \"And, besides, what would my dear mother do if her beloved\nson were turned into a stone?\"\n\n\"Well, well, let us hope that the affair will not turn out so very\nbadly,\" replied Quicksilver in an encouraging tone. \"I am the very\nperson to help you, if anybody can. My sister and myself will do our\nutmost to bring you safe through the adventure, ugly as it now looks.\"\n\n\"Your sister?\" repeated Perseus.\n\n\"Yes, my sister,\" said the stranger. \"She is very wise, I promise\nyou; and as for myself, I generally have all my wits about me, such as\nthey are. If you show yourself bold and cautious, and follow our\nadvice, you need not fear being a stone image yet awhile. But, first\nof all, you must polish your shield till you can see your face in it\nas distinctly as in a mirror.\"\n\nThis seemed to Perseus rather an odd beginning of the adventure, for\nhe thought it of far more consequence that the shield should be strong\nenough to defend him from the Gorgon's brazen claws than that it\nshould be bright enough to show him the reflection of his face.\nHowever, concluding that Quicksilver knew better than himself, he\nimmediately set to work and scrubbed the shield with so much diligence\nand good will that it very quickly shone like the moon at harvest\ntime. Quicksilver looked at it with a smile and nodded his\napprobation. Then taking off his own short and crooked sword, he\ngirded it about Perseus, instead of the one which he had before worn.\n\n\"No sword but mine will answer your purpose,\" observed he; \"the blade\nhas a most excellent temper and will cut through iron and brass as\neasily as through the slenderest twig. And now we will set out. The\nnext thing is to find the Three Gray Women, who will tell us where to\nfind the Nymphs.\"\n\n\"The Three Gray Women!\" cried Perseus, to whom this seemed only a new\ndifficulty in the path of his adventure. \"Pray, who may the Three Gray\nWomen be? I never heard of them before.\"\n\n\"They are three very strange old ladies,\" said Quicksilver, laughing.\n\"They have but one eye among them, and only one tooth. Moreover, you\nmust find them out by starlight or in the dusk of the evening, for\nthey never show themselves by the light either of the sun or moon.\"\n\n\"But,\" said Perseus, \"why should I waste my time with these Three\nGray Women? Would it not be better to set out at once in search of the\nterrible Gorgons?\"\n\n\"No, no,\" answered his friend. \"There are other things to be done\nbefore you can find your way to the Gorgons. There is nothing for it\nbut to hunt up these old ladies; and when we meet with them, you may\nbe sure that the Gorgons are not a great way off. Come, let us be\nstirring!\"\n\nPerseus by this time felt so much confidence in his companion's\nsagacity that he made no more objections, and professed himself ready\nto begin the adventure immediately. They accordingly set out and\nwalked at a pretty brisk pace; so brisk, indeed, that Perseus found it\nrather difficult to keep up with his nimble friend Quicksilver. To say\nthe truth, he had a singular idea that Quicksilver was furnished with\na pair of winged shoes, which, of course, helped him along\nmarvelously. And then, too, when Perseus looked sideways at him out of\nthe corner of his eye, he seemed to see wings on the side of his head;\nalthough, if he turned a full gaze, there were no such things to be\nperceived, but only an odd kind of cap. But at all events, the twisted\nstaff was evidently a great convenience to Quicksilver, and enabled\nhim to proceed so fast that Perseus, though a remarkably active young\nman, began to be out of breath.\n\n\"Here!\" cried Quicksilver at last--for he knew well enough, rogue that\nhe was, how hard Perseus found it to keep pace with him--\"take you the\nstaff, for you need it a great deal more than I. Are there no better\nwalkers than yourself in the island of Seriphus?\"\n\n\"I could walk pretty well,\" said Perseus, glancing slyly at his\ncompanion's feet, \"if I had only a pair of winged shoes.\"\n\n\"We must see about getting you a pair,\" answered Quicksilver.\n\nBut the staff helped Perseus along so bravely that he no longer felt\nthe slightest weariness. In fact, the stick seemed to be alive in his\nhand and to lend some of its life to Perseus. He and Quicksilver now\nwalked onward at their ease, talking very sociably together; and\nQuicksilver told so many pleasant stories about his former adventures\nand how well his wits had served him on various occasions that Perseus\nbegan to think him a very wonderful person. He evidently knew the\nworld; and nobody is so charming to a young man as a friend who has\nthat kind of knowledge. Perseus listened the more eagerly, in the hope\nof brightening his own wits by what he heard.\n\nAt last, he happened to recollect that Quicksilver had spoken of a\nsister who was to lend her assistance in the adventure which they were\nnow bound upon.\n\n\"Where is she?\" he inquired. \"Shall we not meet her soon?\"\n\n\"All at the proper time,\" said his companion. \"But this sister of\nmine, you must understand, is quite a different sort of character from\nmyself. She is very grave and prudent, seldom smiles, never laughs and\nmakes it a rule not to utter a word unless she has something\nparticularly profound to say. Neither will she listen to any but the\nwisest conversation.\"\n\n\"Dear me!\" ejaculated Perseus; \"I shall be afraid to say a syllable.\"\n\n\"She is a very accomplished person, I assure you,\" continued\nQuicksilver, \"and has all the arts and science at her fingers' ends.\nIn short, she is so immoderately wise that many people call her wisdom\npersonified. But to tell you the truth, she has hardly vivacity enough\nfor my taste; and I think you would scarcely find her so pleasant a\ntraveling companion as myself. She has her good points, nevertheless;\nand you will find the benefit of them in your encounter with the\nGorgons.\"\n\nBy this time it had grown quite dusk. They were now come to a very\nwild and desert place, overgrown with shaggy bushes and so silent and\nsolitary that nobody seemed ever to have dwelt or journeyed there. All\nwas waste and desolate in the gray twilight, which grew every moment\nmore obscure. Perseus looked about him rather disconsolately and asked\nQuicksilver whether they had a great deal farther to go.\n\n\"Hist! hist!\" whispered his companion. \"Make no noise! This is just\nthe time and place to meet the Three Gray Women. Be careful that they\ndo not see you before you see them, for though they have but a single\neye among the three, it is as sharp-sighted as half a dozen common\neyes.\"\n\n\"But what must I do,\" asked Perseus, \"when we meet them?\"\n\nQuicksilver explained to Perseus how the Three Gray Women managed with\ntheir one eye. They were in the habit, it seems, of changing it from\none to another, as if it had been a pair of spectacles, or--which\nwould have suited them better--a quizzing glass. When one of the three\nhad kept the eye a certain time, she took it out of the socket and\npassed it to one of her sisters, whose turn it might happen to be, and\nwho immediately clapped it into her own head and enjoyed a peep at the\nvisible world. Thus it will easily be understood that only one of the\nThree Gray Women could see, while the other two were in utter\ndarkness; and, moreover, at the instant when the eye was passing from\nhand to hand, none of the poor old ladies was able to see a wink. I\nhave heard of a great many strange things in my day, and have\nwitnessed not a few, but none, it seems to me, that can compare with\nthe oddity of these Three Gray Women all peeping through a single eye.\n\nSo thought Perseus, likewise, and was so astonished that he almost\nfancied his companion was joking with him, and that there were no such\nold women in the world.\n\n\"You will soon find whether I tell the truth or no,\" observed\nQuicksilver. \"Hark! hush! hist! hist! There they come now!\"\n\nPerseus looked earnestly through the dusk of the evening, and there,\nsure enough, at no great distance off, he descried the Three Gray\nWomen. The light being so faint, he could not well make out what sort\nof figures they were; only he discovered that they had long gray hair,\nand as they came nearer he saw that two of them had but the empty\nsocket of an eye in the middle of their foreheads. But in the middle\nof the third sister's forehead there was a very large, bright and\npiercing eye, which sparkled like a great diamond in a ring; and so\npenetrating did it seem to be that Perseus could not help thinking it\nmust possess the gift of seeing in the darkest midnight just as\nperfectly as at noonday. The sight of three persons' eyes was melted\nand collected into that single one.\n\nThus the three old dames got along about as comfortably, upon the\nwhole, as if they could all see at once. She who chanced to have the\neye in her forehead led the other two by the hands, peeping sharply\nabout her all the while; insomuch that Perseus dreaded lest she should\nsee right through the thick clump of bushes behind which he and\nQuicksilver had hidden themselves. My stars! it was positively\nterrible to be within reach of so very sharp an eye!\n\nBut before they reached the clump of bushes, one of the Three Gray\nWomen spoke.\n\n\"Sister! Sister Scarecrow!\" cried she, \"you have had the eye long\nenough. It is my turn now!\"\n\n\"Let me keep it a moment longer, Sister Nightmare,\" answered\nScarecrow. \"I thought I had a glimpse of something behind that thick\nbush.\"\n\n\"Well, and what of that?\" retorted Nightmare, peevishly. \"Can't I see\ninto a thick bush as easily as yourself? The eye is mine as well as\nyours; and I know the use of it as well as you, or maybe a little\nbetter. I insist upon taking a peep immediately!\"\n\nBut here the third sister, whose name was Shakejoint, began to\ncomplain, and said that it was her turn to have the eye, and that\nScarecrow and Nightmare wanted to keep it all to themselves. To end\nthe dispute, old Dame Scarecrow took the eye out of her forehead and\nheld it forth in her hand.\n\n\"Take it, one of you,\" cried she, \"and quit this foolish quarreling.\nFor my part, I shall be glad of a little thick darkness. Take it\nquickly, however, or I must clap it into my own head again!\"\n\nAccordingly, both Nightmare and Shakejoint put out their hands,\ngroping eagerly to snatch the eye out of the hand of Scarecrow. But\nbeing both alike blind, they could not easily find where Scarecrow's\nhand was; and Scarecrow, being now just as much in the dark as\nShakejoint and Nightmare, could not at once meet either of their hands\nin order to put the eye into it. Thus (as you will see with half an\neye, my wise little auditors) these good old dames had fallen into a\nstrange perplexity. For, though the eye shone and glistened like a\nstar as Scarecrow held it out, yet the Gray Women caught not the least\nglimpse of its light and were all three in utter darkness from too\nimpatient a desire to see.\n\nQuicksilver was so much tickled at beholding Shakejoint and Nightmare\nboth groping for the eye, and each finding fault with Scarecrow and\none another, that he could scarcely help laughing aloud.\n\n\"Now is your time!\" he whispered to Perseus. \"Quick, quick! before\nthey can clap the eye into either of their heads. Rush out upon the\nold ladies and snatch it from Scarecrow's hand!\"\n\nIn an instant, while the Three Gray Women were still scolding each\nother, Perseus leaped from behind the clump of bushes and made himself\nmaster of the prize. The marvelous eye, as he held it in his hand,\nshone very brightly, and seemed to look up into his face with a\nknowing air, and an expression as if it would have winked had it been\nprovided with a pair of eyelids for that purpose. But the Gray Women\nknew nothing of what had happened, and each supposing that one of her\nsisters was in possession of the eye, they began their quarrel anew.\nAt last, as Perseus did not wish to put these respectable dames to\ngreater inconvenience than was really necessary, he thought it right\nto explain the matter.\n\n\"My good ladies,\" said he, \"pray do not be angry with one another. If\nanybody is in fault, it is myself; for I have the honor to hold your\nvery brilliant and excellent eye in my own hand!\"\n\n\"You! you have our eye! And who are you?\" screamed the Three Gray\nWomen all in a breath; for they were terribly frightened, of course,\nat hearing a strange voice and discovering that their eyesight had got\ninto the hands of they could not guess whom. \"Oh, what shall we do,\nsisters? what shall we do? We are all in the dark! Give us our eye!\nGive us our one precious, solitary eye! You have two of your own! Give\nus our eye!\"\n\n\"Tell them,\" whispered Quicksilver to Perseus, \"that they shall have\nback the eye as soon as they direct you where to find the Nymphs who\nhave the flying slippers, the magic wallet and the helmet of\ndarkness.\"\n\n\"My dear, good, admirable old ladies,\" said Perseus, addressing the\nGray Women, \"there is no occasion for putting yourselves into such a\nfright. I am by no means a bad young man. You shall have back your\neye, safe and sound, and as bright as ever, the moment you tell me\nwhere to find the Nymphs.\"\n\n\"The Nymphs! Goodness me! sisters, what Nymphs does he mean?\" screamed\nScarecrow. \"There are a great many Nymphs, people say; some that go a\nhunting in the woods, and some that live inside of trees, and some that\nhave a comfortable home in fountains of water. We know nothing at all\nabout them. We are three unfortunate old souls that go wandering about\nin the dusk and never had but one eye amongst us, and that one you have\nstolen away. Oh, give it back, good stranger!--whoever you are, give it\nback!\"\n\nAll this while the Three Gray Women were groping with their\noutstretched hands and trying their utmost to get hold of Perseus. But\nhe took good care to keep out of their reach.\n\n\"My respectable dames,\" said he--for his mother had taught him always\nto use the greatest civility--\"I hold your eye fast in my hand and\nshall keep it safely for you until you please to tell me where to find\nthese Nymphs. The Nymphs, I mean, who keep the enchanted wallet, the\nflying slippers and the what is it?--the helmet of invisibility.\"\n\n\"Mercy on us, sisters! what is the young man talking about?\" exclaimed\nScarecrow, Nightmare and Shakejoint, one to another, with great\nappearance of astonishment. \"A pair of flying slippers, quoth he! His\nheels would quickly fly higher than his head if he was silly enough to\nput them on. And a helmet of invisibility! How could a helmet make him\ninvisible, unless it were big enough for him to hide under it? And an\nenchanted wallet! What sort of a contrivance may that be, I wonder?\nNo, no, good stranger! we can tell you nothing of these marvelous\nthings. You have two eyes of your own and we have but a single one\namongst us three. You can find out such wonders better than three\nblind old creatures like us.\"\n\nPerseus, hearing them talk in this way, began really to think that the\nGray Women knew nothing of the matter; and, as it grieved him to put\nthem to so much trouble, he was just on the point of restoring their\neye and asking pardon for his rudeness in snatching it away. But\nQuicksilver caught his hand.\n\n\"Don't let them make a fool of you!\" said he. \"These Three Gray Women\nare the only persons in the world that can tell you where to find the\nNymphs, and unless you get that information you will never succeed in\ncutting off the head of Medusa with the snaky locks. Keep fast hold on\nthe eye and all will go well.\"\n\nAs it turned out, Quicksilver was in the right. There are but few\nthings that people prize so much as they do their eyesight; and the\nGray Women valued their single eye as highly as if it had been half a\ndozen, which was the number they ought to have had. Finding that there\nwas no other way of recovering it, they at last told Perseus what he\nwanted to know. No sooner had they done so than he immediately and\nwith the utmost respect clapped the eye into the vacant socket in one\nof their foreheads, thanked them for their kindness and bade them\nfarewell. Before the young man was out of hearing, however, they had\ngot into a new dispute, because he happened to have given the eye to\nScarecrow, who had already taken her turn of it when their trouble\nwith Perseus commenced.\n\nIt is greatly to be feared that the Three Gray Women were very much in\nthe habit of disturbing their mutual harmony by bickerings of this\nsort, which was the more pity, as they could not conveniently do\nwithout one another and were evidently intended to be inseparable\ncompanions. As a general rule, I would advise all people, whether\nsisters or brothers, old or young, who chance to have but one eye\namongst them, to cultivate forbearance and not all insist upon peeping\nthrough it at once.\n\nQuicksilver and Perseus, in the meantime, were making the best of\ntheir way in quest of the Nymphs. The old dames had given them such\nparticular directions that they were not long in finding them out.\nThey proved to be very different persons from Nightmare, Shakejoint\nand Scarecrow; for, instead of being old, they were young and\nbeautiful; and instead of one eye amongst the sisterhood, each Nymph\nhad two exceedingly bright eyes of her own, with which she looked very\nkindly at Perseus. They seemed to be acquainted with Quicksilver, and\nwhen he told them the adventure which Perseus had undertaken, they\nmade no difficulty about giving him the valuable articles that were in\ntheir custody. In the first place, they brought out what appeared to\nbe a small purse, made of deer skin and curiously embroidered, and\nbade him be sure and keep it safe. This was the magic wallet. The\nNymphs next produced a pair of shoes or slippers or sandals, with a\nnice little pair of wings at the heel of each.\n\n\"Put them on, Perseus,\" said Quicksilver. \"You will find yourself as\nlight-heeled as you can desire for the remainder of our journey.\"\n\nSo Perseus proceeded to put one of the slippers on, while he laid the\nother on the ground by his side. Unexpectedly, however, this other\nslipper spread its wings, fluttered up off the ground and would\nprobably have flown away if Quicksilver had not made a leap and\nluckily caught it in the air.\n\n\"Be more careful,\" said he as he gave it back to Perseus. \"It would\nfrighten the birds up aloft if they should see a flying slipper\namongst them.\"\n\nWhen Perseus had got on both of these wonderful slippers, he was\naltogether too buoyant to tread on earth. Making a step or two, lo and\nbehold! upward he popped into the air high above the heads of\nQuicksilver and the Nymphs, and found it very difficult to clamber\ndown again. Winged slippers and all such high-flying contrivances are\nseldom quite easy to manage until one grows a little accustomed to\nthem. Quicksilver laughed at his companion's involuntary activity and\ntold him that he must not be in so desperate a hurry, but must wait\nfor the invisible helmet.\n\nThe good-natured Nymphs had the helmet, with its dark tuft of waving\nplumes, all in readiness to put upon his head. And now there happened\nabout as wonderful an incident as anything that I have yet told you.\nThe instant before the helmet was put on, there stood Perseus, a\nbeautiful young man, with golden ringlets and rosy cheeks, the crooked\nsword by his side and the brightly polished shield upon his arm--a\nfigure that seemed all made up of courage, sprightliness and glorious\nlight. But when the helmet had descended over his white brow, there\nwas no longer any Perseus to be seen! Nothing but empty air! Even the\nhelmet that covered him with its invisibility had vanished!\n\n\"Where are you, Perseus?\" asked Quicksilver.\n\n\"Why, here, to be sure!\" answered Perseus very quietly, although his\nvoice seemed to come out of the transparent atmosphere. \"Just where I\nwas a moment ago. Don't you see me?\"\n\n\"No, indeed!\" answered his friend. \"You are hidden under the helmet.\nBut if I cannot see you, neither can the Gorgons. Follow me,\ntherefore, and we will try your dexterity in using the winged\nslippers.\"\n\nWith these words, Quicksilver's cap spread its wings, as if his head\nwere about to fly away from his shoulders; but his whole figure rose\nlightly into the air and Perseus followed. By the time they had\nascended a few hundred feet the young man began to feel what a\ndelightful thing it was to leave the dull earth so far beneath him and\nto be able to flit about like a bird.\n\nIt was now deep night. Perseus looked upward and saw the round,\nbright, silvery moon and thought that he should desire nothing better\nthan to soar up thither and spend his life there. Then he looked\ndownward again and saw the earth, with its seas and lakes, and the\nsilver course of its rivers, and its snowy mountain peaks, and the\nbreath of its fields, and the dark cluster of its woods, and its\ncities of white marble; and with the moonshine sleeping over the whole\nscene, it was as beautiful as the moon or any star could be. And among\nother objects he saw the island of Seriphus, where his dear mother\nwas. Sometimes he and Quicksilver approached a cloud that at a\ndistance looked as if it were made of fleecy silver, although when\nthey plunged into it they found themselves chilled and moistened with\ngray mist. So swift was their flight, however, that in an instant they\nemerged from the cloud into the moonlight again. Once a high-soaring\neagle flew right against the invisible Perseus. The bravest sights\nwere the meteors that gleamed suddenly out as if a bonfire had been\nkindled in the sky and made the moonshine pale for as much as a\nhundred miles around them.\n\nAs the two companions flew onward, Perseus fancied that he could hear\nthe rustle of a garment close by his side; and it was on the side\nopposite to the one where he beheld Quicksilver, yet only Quicksilver\nwas visible.\n\n\"Whose garment is this,\" inquired Perseus, \"that keeps rustling close\nbeside me in the breeze?\"\n\n\"Oh, it is my sister's!\" answered Quicksilver. \"She is coming along\nwith us, as I told you she would. We could do nothing without the help\nof my sister. You have no idea how wise she is. She has such eyes,\ntoo! Why, she can see you at this moment just as distinctly as if you\nwere not invisible, and I'll venture to say she will be the first to\ndiscover the Gorgons.\"\n\nBy this time, in their swift voyage through the air, they had come\nwithin sight of the great ocean and were soon flying over it. Far\nbeneath them the waves tossed themselves tumultuously in mid-sea, or\nrolled a white surf line upon the long beaches, or foamed against the\nrocky cliffs, with a roar that was thunderous in the lower world,\nalthough it became a gentle murmur, like the voice of a baby half\nasleep, before it reached the ears of Perseus. Just then a voice spoke\nin the air close by him. It seemed to be a woman's voice and was\nmelodious, though not exactly what might be called sweet, but grave\nand mild.\n\n\"Perseus,\" said the voice, \"there are the Gorgons.\"\n\n\"Where?\" exclaimed Perseus. \"I cannot see them.\"\n\n\"On the shore of that island beneath you,\" replied the voice. \"A\npebble dropped from your hand would strike in the midst of them.\"\n\n\"I told you she would be the first to discover them,\" said Quicksilver\nto Perseus. \"And there they are!\"\n\nStraight downward, two or three thousand feet below him, Perseus\nperceived a small island, with the sea breaking into white foam all\naround its rocky shore, except on one side, where there was a beach of\nsnowy sand. He descended toward it, and looking earnestly at a cluster\nor heap of brightness at the foot of a precipice of black rocks,\nbehold, there were the terrible Gorgons! They lay fast asleep, soothed\nby the thunder of the sea; for it required a tumult that would have\ndeafened everybody else to lull such fierce creatures into slumber.\nThe moonlight glistened on their steely scales and on their golden\nwings, which drooped idly over the sand. Their brazen claws, horrible\nto look at, were thrust out and clutched the wave-beaten fragments of\nrock, while the sleeping Gorgons dreamed of tearing some poor mortal\nall to pieces. The snakes that served them instead of hair seemed\nlikewise to be asleep, although now and then one would writhe and\nlift its head and thrust out its forked tongue, emitting a drowsy\nhiss, and then let itself subside among its sister snakes.\n\nThe Gorgons were more like an awful, gigantic kind of insect--immense,\ngolden-winged beetles or dragonflies or things of that sort--at once\nugly and beautiful--than like anything else; only that they were a\nthousand and a million times as big. And with all this there was\nsomething partly human about them, too. Luckily for Perseus, their\nfaces were completely hidden from him by the posture in which they\nlay, for had he but looked one instant at them, he would have fallen\nheavily out of the air, an image of senseless stone.\n\n\"Now,\" whispered Quicksilver as he hovered by the side of\nPerseus--\"now is your time to do the deed! Be quick, for if one of the\nGorgons should awake, you are too late!\"\n\n\"Which shall I strike at?\" asked Perseus, drawing his sword and\ndescending a little lower. \"They all three look alike. All three have\nsnaky locks. Which of the three is Medusa?\"\n\nIt must be understood that Medusa was the only one of these dragon\nmonsters whose head Perseus could possibly cut off. As for the other\ntwo, let him have the sharpest sword that ever was forged, and he\nmight have hacked away by the hour together without doing them the\nleast harm.\n\n\"Be cautious,\" said the calm voice which had before spoken to him.\n\"One of the Gorgons is stirring in her sleep and is just about to turn\nover. That is Medusa. Do not look at her! The sight would turn you to\nstone! Look at the reflection of her face and figure in the bright\nmirror of your shield.\"\n\n[Illustration: PERSEUS SLAYING THE MEDUSA]\n\nPerseus now understood Quicksilver's motive for so earnestly exhorting\nhim to polish his shield. In its surface he could safely look at the\nreflection of the Gorgon's face. And there it was--that terrible\ncountenance--mirrored in the brightness of the shield, with the\nmoonlight falling over it and displaying all its horror. The snakes,\nwhose venomous natures could not altogether sleep, kept twisting\nthemselves over the forehead. It was the fiercest and most horrible\nface that ever was seen or imagined, and yet with a strange, fearful\nand savage kind of beauty in it. The eyes were closed and the Gorgon\nwas still in a deep slumber; but there was an unquiet expression\ndisturbing her features, as if the monster was troubled with an ugly\ndream. She gnashed her white tusks and dug into the sand with her\nbrazen claws.\n\nThe snakes, too, seemed to feel Medusa's dream and to be made more\nrestless by it. They twined themselves into tumultuous knots, writhed\nfiercely and uplifted a hundred hissing heads without opening their\neyes.\n\n\"Now, now!\" whispered Quicksilver, who was growing impatient. \"Make a\ndash at the monster!\"\n\n\"But be calm,\" said the grave, melodious voice at the young man's\nside. \"Look in your shield as you fly downward, and take care that you\ndo not miss your first stroke.\"\n\nPerseus flew cautiously downward, still keeping his eyes on Medusa's\nface, as reflected in his shield. The nearer he came, the more\nterrible did the snaky visage and metallic body of the monster grow.\nAt last, when he found himself hovering over her within arm's length,\nPerseus uplifted his sword, while at the same instant each separate\nsnake upon the Gorgon's head stretched threateningly upward, and\nMedusa unclosed her eyes. But she awoke too late. The sword was sharp,\nthe stroke fell like a lightning flash, and the head of the wicked\nMedusa tumbled from her body!\n\n\"Admirably done!\" cried Quicksilver. \"Make haste and clap the head\ninto your magic wallet.\"\n\nTo the astonishment of Perseus, the small, embroidered wallet which he\nhad hung about his neck and which had hitherto been no bigger than a\npurse, grew all at once large enough to contain Medusa's head. As\nquick as thought, he snatched it up, with the snakes still writhing\nupon it, and thrust it in.\n\n\"Your task is done,\" said the calm voice. \"Now fly, for the other\nGorgons will do their utmost to take vengeance for Medusa's death.\"\n\nIt was, indeed, necessary to take flight, for Perseus had not done the\ndeed so quietly but that the clash of his sword and the hissing of the\nsnakes and the thump of Medusa's head as it tumbled upon the\nsea-beaten sand awoke the other two monsters. There they sat for an\ninstant, sleepily rubbing their eyes with their brazen fingers, while\nall the snakes on their heads reared themselves on end with surprise\nand with venomous malice against they knew not what. But when the\nGorgons saw the scaly carcass of Medusa, headless, and her golden\nwings all ruffled and half spread out on the sand, it was really awful\nto hear what yells and screeches they set up. And then the snakes!\nThey sent forth a hundredfold hiss with one consent, and Medusa's\nsnakes answered them out of the magic wallet.\n\nNo sooner were the Gorgons broad awake than they hurtled upward into\nthe air, brandishing their brass talons, gnashing their horrible tusks\nand flapping their huge wings so wildly that some of the golden\nfeathers were shaken out and floated down upon the shore. And there,\nperhaps, those very feathers lie scattered till this day. Up rose the\nGorgons, as I tell you, staring horribly about, in hopes of turning\nsomebody to stone. Had Perseus looked them in the face or had he\nfallen into their clutches, his poor mother would never have kissed\nher boy again! But he took good care to turn his eyes another way; and\nas he wore the helmet of invisibility, the Gorgons knew not in what\ndirection to follow him; nor did he fail to make the best use of the\nwinged slippers by soaring upward a perpendicular mile or so. At that\nheight, when the screams of those abominable creatures sounded faintly\nbeneath him, he made a straight course for the island of Seriphus, in\norder to carry Medusa's head to King Polydectes.\n\nI have no time to tell you of several marvelous things that befell\nPerseus on his way homeward, such as his killing a hideous sea monster\njust as it was on the point of devouring a beautiful maiden, nor how\nhe changed an enormous giant into a mountain of stone merely by\nshowing him the head of the Gorgon. If you doubt this latter story,\nyou may make a voyage to Africa some day or other and see the very\nmountain, which is still known by the ancient giant's name.\n\nFinally, our brave Perseus arrived at the island where he expected to\nsee his dear mother. But during his absence, the wicked king had\ntreated Dana\u00eb so very ill that she was compelled to make her escape,\nand had taken refuge in a temple, where some good old priests were\nextremely kind to her. These praiseworthy priests and the kind-hearted\nfisherman, who had first shown hospitality to Dana\u00eb and little Perseus\nwhen he found them afloat in the chest, seem to have been the only\npersons on the island who cared about doing right. All the rest of the\npeople, as well as King Polydectes himself, were remarkably ill\nbehaved and deserved no better destiny than that which was now to\nhappen.\n\nNot finding his mother at home, Perseus went straight to the palace\nand was immediately ushered into the presence of the king. Polydectes\nwas by no means rejoiced to see him, for he had felt almost certain,\nin his own evil mind, that the Gorgons would have torn the poor young\nman to pieces and have eaten him up out of the way. However, seeing\nhim safely returned, he put the best face he could upon the matter and\nasked Perseus how he had succeeded.\n\n\"Have you performed your promise?\" inquired he. \"Have you brought me\nthe head of Medusa with the snaky locks? If not, young man, it will\ncost you dear; for I must have a bridal present for the beautiful\nPrincess Hippodamia and there is nothing else that she would admire so\nmuch.\"\n\n\"Yes, please your Majesty,\" answered Perseus, in a quiet way, as if it\nwere no very wonderful deed for such a young man as he to perform. \"I\nhave brought you the Gorgon's head, snaky locks and all!\"\n\n\"Indeed! Pray, let me see it,\" quoth King Polydectes. \"It must be a\nvery curious spectacle if all that travelers tell it be true!\"\n\n\"Your Majesty is in the right,\" replied Perseus. \"It is really an\nobject that will be pretty certain to fix the regards of all who look\nat it. And if your Majesty think fit, I would suggest that a holiday\nbe proclaimed and that all your Majesty's subjects be summoned to\nbehold this wonderful curiosity. Few of them, I imagine, have seen a\nGorgon's head before and perhaps never may again!\"\n\nThe king well knew that his subjects were an idle set of reprobates\nand very fond of sight-seeing, as idle persons usually are. So he took\nthe young man's advice and sent out heralds and messengers in all\ndirections to blow the trumpet at the street corners and in the market\nplaces and wherever two roads met, and summon everybody to court.\nThither, accordingly, came a great multitude of good-for-nothing\nvagabonds, all of whom, out of pure love of mischief, would have been\nglad if Perseus had met with some ill-hap in his encounter with the\nGorgons. If there were any better people in the island (as I really\nhope there may have been, although the story tells nothing about any\nsuch), they stayed quietly at home, minding their business and taking\ncare of their little children. Most of the inhabitants, at all events,\nran as fast as they could to the palace and shoved and pushed and\nelbowed one another in their eagerness to get near a balcony on which\nPerseus showed himself, holding the embroidered wallet in his hand.\n\nOn a platform within full view of the balcony sat the mighty King\nPolydectes, amid his evil counselors, and with his flattering\ncourtiers in a semi-circle round about him. Monarch, counselors,\ncourtiers and subjects all gazed eagerly toward Perseus.\n\n\"Show us the head! Show us the head!\" shouted the people; and there\nwas a fierceness in their cry as if they would tear Perseus to pieces\nunless he should satisfy them with what he had to show. \"Show us the\nhead of Medusa with the snaky locks!\"\n\nA feeling of sorrow and pity came over the youthful Perseus.\n\n\"O King Polydectes,\" cried he, \"and ye many people, I am very loath to\nshow you the Gorgon's head!\"\n\n\"Ah, the villain and coward!\" yelled the people more fiercely than\nbefore. \"He is making game of us! He has no Gorgon's head! Show us the\nhead if you have it, or we will take your own head for a football!\"\n\nThe evil counselors whispered bad advice in the king's ear; the\ncourtiers murmured, with one consent, that Perseus had shown\ndisrespect to their royal lord and master; and the great King\nPolydectes himself waved his hand and ordered him, with the stern,\ndeep voice of authority, on his peril, to produce the head.\n\n\"Show me the Gorgon's head or I will cut off your own!\"\n\nAnd Perseus sighed.\n\n\"This instant,\" repeated Polydectes, \"or you die!\"\n\n\"Behold it then!\" cried Perseus in a voice like the blast of a\ntrumpet.\n\nAnd suddenly holding up the head, not an eyelid had time to wink\nbefore the wicked King Polydectes, his evil counselors and all his\nfierce subjects were no longer anything but the mere images of a\nmonarch and his people. They were all fixed forever in the look and\nattitude of that moment! At the first glimpse of the terrible head of\nMedusa, they whitened into marble! And Perseus thrust the head back\ninto his wallet and went to tell his dear mother that she need no\nlonger be afraid of the wicked King Polydectes.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GOLDEN FLEECE\n\n\nWhen Jason, the son of the dethroned King of Iolchos, was a little\nboy, he was sent away from his parents and placed under the queerest\nschoolmaster that ever you heard of. This learned person was one of\nthe people, or quadrupeds, called Centaurs. He lived in a cavern, and\nhad the body and legs of a white horse, with the head and shoulders of\na man. His name was Chiron; and in spite of his odd appearance, he was\na very excellent teacher and had several scholars who afterward did\nhim credit by making a great figure in the world. The famous Hercules\nwas one, and so was Achilles, and Philoctetes likewise, and\n\u00c6sculapius, who acquired immense repute as a doctor. The good Chiron\ntaught his pupils how to play upon the harp, and how to cure diseases,\nand how to use the sword and shield, together with various other\nbranches of education in which the lads of those days used to be\ninstructed instead of writing and arithmetic.\n\nI have sometimes suspected that Master Chiron was not really very\ndifferent from other people, but that, being a kind-hearted and merry\nold fellow, he was in the habit of making believe that he was a horse,\nand scrambling about the schoolroom on all fours and letting the\nlittle boys ride upon his back. And so, when his scholars had grown up\nand grown old and were trotting their grandchildren on their knees,\nthey told them about the sports of their school-days; and these young\nfolks took the idea that their grandfathers had been taught their\nletters by a Centaur, half man and half horse. Little children, not\nquite understanding what is said to them, often get such absurd\nnotions into their heads, you know.\n\nBe that as it may, it has always been told for a fact (and always\nwill be told, as long as the world lasts) that Chiron, with the head\nof a schoolmaster, had the body and legs of a horse. Just imagine the\ngrave old gentleman clattering and stamping into the schoolroom on his\nfour hoofs, perhaps treading on some little fellow's toes, flourishing\nhis switch tail instead of a rod and now and then trotting out of\ndoors to eat a mouthful of grass! I wonder what the blacksmith charged\nhim for a set of iron shoes.\n\nSo Jason dwelt in the cave, with this four-footed Chiron from the time\nthat he was an infant only a few months old, until he had grown to the\nfull height of a man. He became a very good harper, I suppose, and\nskilful in the use of weapons and tolerably acquainted with herbs and\nother doctor's stuff, and above all, an admirable horseman; for, in\nteaching young people to ride, the good Chiron must have been without\na rival among schoolmasters. At length, being now a tall and athletic\nyouth, Jason resolved to seek his fortune in the world without asking\nChiron's advice or telling him anything about the matter. This was\nvery unwise, to be sure; and I hope none of you, my little hearers,\nwill ever follow Jason's example. But, you are to understand, he had\nheard how that he himself was a prince royal, and how his father, King\n\u00c6son, had been deprived of the kingdom of Iolchos by a certain Pelias,\nwho would also have killed Jason had he not been hidden in the\nCentaur's cave. And being come to the strength of a man, Jason\ndetermined to set all this business to rights and to punish the wicked\nPelias for wronging his dear father, and to cast him down from the\nthrone and seat himself there instead.\n\nWith this intention he took a spear in each hand and threw a leopard's\nskin over his shoulders to keep off the rain, and set forth on his\ntravels, with his long yellow ringlets waving in the wind. The part\nof his dress on which he most prided himself was a pair of sandals\nthat had been his father's. They were handsomely embroidered and were\ntied upon his feet with strings of gold. But his whole attire was such\nas people did not very often see; and as he passed along, the women\nand children ran to the doors and windows, wondering whither this\nbeautiful youth was journeying, with his leopard's skin and his\ngolden-tied sandals, and what heroic deeds he meant to perform, with a\nspear in his right hand and another in his left.\n\nI know not how far Jason had traveled when he came to a turbulent\nriver, which rushed right across his pathway with specks of white foam\nalong its black eddies, hurrying tumultuously onward and roaring\nangrily as it went. Though not a very broad river in the dry seasons\nof the year, it was now swollen by heavy rains and by the melting of\nthe snow on the sides of Mount Olympus; and it thundered so loudly and\nlooked so wild and dangerous that Jason, bold as he was, thought it\nprudent to pause upon the brink. The bed of the stream seemed to be\nstrewn with sharp and rugged rocks, some of which thrust themselves\nabove the water. By and by an uprooted tree, with shattered branches,\ncame drifting along the current and got entangled among the rocks. Now\nand then a drowned sheep and once the carcass of a cow floated past.\n\nIn short, the swollen river had already done a great deal of mischief.\nIt was evidently too deep for Jason to wade and too boisterous for him\nto swim; he could see no bridge, and as for a boat, had there been\nany, the rocks would have broken it to pieces in an instant.\n\n\"See the poor lad,\" said a cracked voice close to his side. \"He must\nhave had but a poor education, since he does not know how to cross a\nlittle stream like this. Or is he afraid of wetting his fine\ngolden-stringed sandals? It is a pity his four-footed schoolmaster is\nnot here to carry him safely across on his back!\"\n\nJason looked round greatly surprised, for he did not know that anybody\nwas near. But beside him stood an old woman, with a ragged mantle over\nher head, leaning on a staff, the top of which was carved into the\nshape of a cuckoo. She looked very aged and wrinkled and infirm; and\nyet her eyes, which were as brown as those of an ox, were so extremely\nlarge and beautiful that when they were fixed on Jason's eyes he could\nsee nothing else but them. The old woman had a pomegranate in her\nhand, although the fruit was then quite out of season.\n\n\"Whither are you going, Jason?\" she now asked.\n\nShe seemed to know his name, you will observe; and, indeed, those\ngreat brown eyes looked as if they had a knowledge of everything,\nwhether past or to come. While Jason was gazing at her a peacock\nstrutted forward and took his stand at the old woman's side.\n\n\"I am going to Iolchos,\" answered the young man, \"to bid the wicked\nKing Pelias come down from my father's throne and let me reign in his\nstead.\"\n\n\"Ah, well, then,\" said the old woman, still with the same cracked\nvoice, \"if that is all your business, you need not be in a very great\nhurry. Just take me on your back, there's a good youth, and carry me\nacross the river. I and my peacock have something to do on the other\nside, as well as yourself.\"\n\n\"Good mother,\" replied Jason, \"your business can hardly be so\nimportant as the pulling down a king from his throne. Besides, as you\nmay see for yourself, the river is very boisterous; and if I should\nchance to stumble, it would sweep both of us away more easily than it\nhas carried off yonder uprooted tree. I would gladly help you if I\ncould, but I doubt whether I am strong enough to carry you across.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said she very scornfully, \"neither are you strong enough to\npull King Pelias off his throne. And, Jason, unless you will help an\nold woman at her need, you ought not to be a king. What are kings made\nfor, save to succor the feeble and distressed? But do as you please.\nEither take me on your back, or with my poor old limbs I shall try my\nbest to struggle across the stream.\"\n\nSaying this, the old woman poked with her staff in the river as if to\nfind the safest place in its rocky bed where she might make the first\nstep. But Jason by this time had grown ashamed of his reluctance to\nhelp her. He felt that he could never forgive himself if this poor\nfeeble creature should come to any harm in attempting to wrestle\nagainst the headlong current. The good Chiron, whether half horse or\nno, had taught him that the noblest use of his strength was to assist\nthe weak; and also that he must treat every young woman as if she were\nhis sister and every old one like a mother. Remembering these maxims,\nthe vigorous and beautiful young man knelt down and requested the good\ndame to mount upon his back.\n\n\"The passage seems to me not very safe,\" he remarked, \"but as your\nbusiness is so urgent I will try to carry you across. If the river\nsweeps you away it shall take me, too.\"\n\n\"That, no doubt, will be a great comfort to both of us,\" quoth the old\nwoman. \"But never fear! We shall get safely across.\"\n\nSo she threw her arms around Jason's neck; and, lifting her from the\nground, he stepped boldly into the raging and foamy current, and began\nto stagger away from the shore. As for the peacock, it alighted on the\nold dame's shoulder. Jason's two spears, one in each hand, kept him\nfrom stumbling and enabled him to feel his way among the hidden\nrocks; although every instant he expected that his companion and\nhimself would go down the stream together with the driftwood of\nshattered trees and the carcasses of the sheep and cow. Down came the\ncold, snowy torrent from the steep side of Olympus, raging and\nthundering as if it had a real spite against Jason or, at all events,\nwere determined to snatch off his living burden from his shoulders.\nWhen he was half way across the uprooted tree (which I have already\ntold you about) broke loose from among the rocks and bore down upon\nhim with all its splintered branches sticking out like the hundred\narms of the giant Briareus. It rushed past, however, without touching\nhim. But the next moment his foot was caught in a crevice between two\nrocks and stuck there so fast that in the effort to get free he lost\none of his golden-stringed sandals.\n\nAt this accident Jason could not help uttering a cry of vexation.\n\n\"What is the matter, Jason?\" asked the old woman.\n\n\"Matter enough,\" said the young man. \"I have lost a sandal here among\nthe rocks. And what sort of a figure shall I cut at the court of King\nPelias with a golden-stringed sandal on one foot and the other foot\nbare!\"\n\n\"Do not take it to heart,\" answered his companion cheerily. \"You never\nmet with better fortune than in losing that sandal. It satisfies me\nthat you are the very person whom the Speaking Oak has been talking\nabout.\"\n\nThere was no time just then to inquire what the Speaking Oak had said.\nBut the briskness of her tone encouraged the young man; and, besides,\nhe had never in his life felt so vigorous and mighty as since taking\nthis old woman on his back. Instead of being exhausted he gathered\nstrength as he went on; and, struggling up against the torrent, he at\nlast gained the opposite shore, clambered up the bank and set down\nthe old dame and her peacock safely on the grass. As soon as this was\ndone, however, he could not help looking rather despondently at his\nbare foot, with only a remnant of the golden string of the sandal\nclinging round his ankle.\n\n\"You will get a handsomer pair of sandals by and by,\" said the old\nwoman, with a kindly look out of her beautiful brown eyes. \"Only let\nKing Pelias get a glimpse of that bare foot and you shall see him turn\nas pale as ashes, I promise you. There is your path. Go along, my good\nJason, and my blessing go with you. And when you sit on your throne\nremember the old woman whom you helped over the river.\"\n\nWith these words she hobbled away, giving him a smile over her\nshoulder as she departed. Whether the light of her beautiful brown\neyes threw a glory round about her, or whatever the cause might be,\nJason fancied that there was something very noble and majestic in her\nfigure after all, and that, though her gait seemed to be a rheumatic\nhobble, yet she moved with as much grace and dignity as any queen on\nearth. Her peacock, which had now fluttered down from her shoulder,\nstrutted behind her in prodigious pomp and spread out its magnificent\ntail on purpose for Jason to admire it.\n\nWhen the old dame and her peacock were out of sight Jason set forward\non his journey. After traveling a pretty long distance he came to a\ntown situated at the foot of a mountain and not a great way from the\nshore of the sea. On the outside of the town there was an immense\ncrowd of people, not only men and women, but children, too, all in\ntheir best clothes and evidently enjoying a holiday. The crowd was\nthickest toward the seashore, and in that direction, over the people's\nheads, Jason saw a wreath of smoke curling upward to the blue sky. He\ninquired of one of the multitude what town it was near by and why so\nmany persons were here assembled together.\n\n\"This is the kingdom of Iolchos,\" answered the man, \"and we are the\nsubjects of King Pelias. Our monarch has summoned us together, that we\nmay see him sacrifice a black bull to Neptune, who, they say, is his\nmajesty's father. Yonder is the king, where you see the smoke going up\nfrom the altar.\"\n\nWhile the man spoke he eyed Jason with great curiosity; for his garb\nwas quite unlike that of the Iolchians, and it looked very odd to see\na youth with a leopard's skin over his shoulders and each hand\ngrasping a spear. Jason perceived, too, that the man stared\nparticularly at his feet, one of which, you remember, was bare, while\nthe other was decorated with his father's golden-stringed sandal.\n\n\"Look at him! only look at him!\" said the man to his next neighbor.\n\"Do you see? He wears but one sandal!\"\n\nUpon this, first one person and then another began to stare at Jason,\nand everybody seemed to be greatly struck with something in his\naspect; though they turned their eyes much oftener toward his feet\nthan to any other part of his figure. Besides, he could hear them\nwhispering to one another.\n\n\"One sandal! One sandal!\" they kept saying. \"The man with one sandal!\nHere he is at last! Whence has he come? What does he mean to do? What\nwill the king say to the one-sandaled man?\"\n\nPoor Jason was greatly abashed and made up his mind that the people of\nIolchos were exceedingly ill-bred to take such public notice of an\naccidental deficiency in his dress. Meanwhile, whether it were that\nthey hustled him forward or that Jason of his own accord thrust a\npassage through the crowd, it so happened that he soon found himself\nclose to the smoking altar, where King Pelias was sacrificing the\nblack bull. The murmur and hum of the multitude, in their surprise at\nthe spectacle of Jason with his one bare foot, grew so loud that it\ndisturbed the ceremonies; and the king, holding the great knife with\nwhich he was just going to cut the bull's throat, turned angrily about\nand fixed his eyes on Jason. The people had now withdrawn from around\nhim, so that the youth stood in an open space, near the smoking altar,\nfront to front with the angry King Pelias.\n\n\"Who are you?\" cried the king, with a terrible frown. \"And how dare\nyou make this disturbance, while I am sacrificing a black bull to my\nfather Neptune?\"\n\n\"It is no fault of mine,\" answered Jason. \"Your majesty must blame the\nrudeness of your subjects, who have raised all this tumult because one\nof my feet happens to be bare.\"\n\nWhen Jason said this the king gave a quick, startled glance at his\nfeet.\n\n\"Ha!\" muttered he, \"here is the one-sandaled fellow, sure enough! What\ncan I do with him?\"\n\nAnd he clutched more closely the great knife in his hand, as if he\nwere half a mind to slay Jason instead of the black bull. The people\nround about caught up the king's words, indistinctly as they were\nuttered; and first there was a murmur among them and then a loud\nshout.\n\n\"The one-sandaled man has come! The prophecy must be fulfilled!\"\n\nFor you are to know that many years before King Pelias had been told\nby the Speaking Oak of Dodona that a man with one sandal should cast\nhim down from his throne. On this account he had given strict orders\nthat nobody should ever come into his presence unless both sandals\nwere securely tied upon his feet; and he kept an officer in his palace\nwhose sole business it was to examine people's sandals and to supply\nthem with a new pair at the expense of the royal treasury as soon as\nthe old ones began to wear out. In the whole course of the king's\nreign he had never been thrown into such a fright and agitation as by\nthe spectacle of poor Jason's bare foot. But as he was naturally a\nbold and hard-hearted man, he soon took courage and began to consider\nin what way he might rid himself of this terrible one-sandaled\nstranger.\n\n\"My good young man,\" said King Pelias, taking the softest tone\nimaginable in order to throw Jason off his guard, \"you are excessively\nwelcome to my kingdom. Judging by your dress, you must have traveled a\nlong distance, for it is not the fashion to wear leopard-skins in this\npart of the world. Pray, what may I call your name, and where did you\nreceive your education?\"\n\n\"My name is Jason,\" answered the young stranger. \"Ever since my\ninfancy I have dwelt in the cave of Chiron the Centaur. He was my\ninstructor, and taught me music and horsemanship and how to cure\nwounds, and likewise how to inflict wounds with my weapons!\"\n\n\"I have heard of Chiron the schoolmaster,\" replied King Pelias, \"and\nhow that there is an immense deal of learning and wisdom in his head,\nalthough it happens to be set on a horse's body. It gives me great\ndelight to see one of his scholars at my court. But to test how much\nyou have profited under so excellent a teacher, will you allow me to\nask you a single question?\"\n\n\"I do not pretend to be very wise,\" said Jason; \"but ask me what you\nplease and I will answer to the best of my ability.\"\n\nNow King Pelias meant cunningly to entrap the young man and to make\nhim say something that should be the cause of mischief and destruction\nto himself. So with a crafty and evil smile upon his face, he spoke as\nfollows:\n\n\"What would you do, brave Jason,\" asked he, \"if there were a man in\nthe world by whom, as you had reason to believe, you were doomed to be\nruined and slain--what would you do, I say, if that man stood before\nyou and in your power?\"\n\nWhen Jason saw the malice and wickedness which King Pelias could not\nprevent from gleaming out of his eyes, he probably guessed that the\nking had discovered what he came for, and that he intended to turn his\nown words against himself. Still, he scorned to tell a falsehood. Like\nan upright and honorable prince, as he was, he determined to speak out\nthe real truth. Since the king had chosen to ask him the question and\nsince Jason had promised him an answer, there was no right way save to\ntell him precisely what would be the most prudent thing to do if he\nhad his worst enemy in his power.\n\nTherefore, after a moment's consideration, he spoke up with a firm and\nmanly voice:\n\n\"I would send such a man,\" said he, \"in quest of the Golden Fleece!\"\n\nThis enterprise, you will understand, was, of all others, the most\ndifficult and dangerous in the world. In the first place, it would be\nnecessary to make a long voyage through unknown seas. There was hardly\na hope or a possibility that any young man who should undertake this\nvoyage would either succeed in obtaining the Golden Fleece or would\nsurvive to return home and tell of the perils he had run. The eyes of\nKing Pelias sparkled with joy, therefore, when he heard Jason's reply.\n\n\"Well said, wise man with the one sandal!\" cried he. \"Go, then, and at\nthe peril of your life bring me back the Golden Fleece!\"\n\n\"I go,\" answered Jason composedly. \"If I fail, you need not fear that\nI will ever come back to trouble you again. But if I return to Iolchos\nwith the prize, then, King Pelias, you must hasten down from your\nlofty throne and give me your crown and scepter.\"\n\n\"That I will,\" said the king, with a sneer. \"Meantime I will keep them\nvery safely for you.\"\n\nThe first thing that Jason thought of doing after he left the king's\npresence was to go to Dodona and inquire of the Talking Oak what\ncourse it was best to pursue. This wonderful tree stood in the center\nof an ancient wood. Its stately trunk rose up a hundred feet into the\nair and threw a broad and dense shadow over more than an acre of\nground. Standing beneath it, Jason looked up among the knotted\nbranches and green leaves and into the mysterious heart of the old\ntree, and spoke aloud, as if he were addressing some person who was\nhidden in the depths of the foliage.\n\n\"What shall I do,\" said he, \"in order to win the Golden Fleece?\"\n\nAt first there was a deep silence, not only within the shadow of the\nTalking Oak, but all through the solitary wood. In a moment or two,\nhowever, the leaves of the oak began to stir and rustle as if a gentle\nbreeze were wandering among them, although the other trees of the wood\nwere perfectly still. The sound grew louder and became like the roar\nof a high wind. By and by Jason imagined that he could distinguish\nwords, but very confusedly, because each separate leaf of the tree\nseemed to be a tongue and the whole myriad of tongues were babbling at\nonce. But the noise waxed broader and deeper until it resembled a\ntornado sweeping through the oak and making one great utterance out of\nthe thousand and thousand of little murmurs which each leafy tongue\nhad caused by its rustling. And now, though it still had the tone of a\nmighty wind roaring among the branches, it was also like a deep bass\nvoice speaking, as distinctly as a tree could be expected to speak,\nthe following words:\n\n\"Go to Argus, the shipbuilder, and bid him build a galley with fifty\noars.\"\n\nThen the voice melted again into the indistinct murmur of the rustling\nleaves and died gradually away. When it was quite gone Jason felt\ninclined to doubt whether he had actually heard the words or whether\nhis fancy had not shaped them out of the ordinary sound made by a\nbreeze while passing through the thick foliage of the tree.\n\nBut on inquiry among the people of Iolchos, he found that there was\nreally a man in the city by the name of Argus, who was a very skilful\nbuilder of vessels. This showed some intelligence in the oak, else how\nshould it have known that any such person existed? At Jason's request\nArgus readily consented to build him a galley so big that it should\nrequire fifty strong men to row it, although no vessel of such a size\nand burden had heretofore been seen in the world. So the head\ncarpenter and all his journeymen and apprentices began their work; and\nfor a good while afterward there they were busily employed hewing out\nthe timbers and making a great clatter with their hammers, until the\nnew ship, which was called the Argo, seemed to be quite ready for sea.\nAnd as the Talking Oak had already given him such good advice, Jason\nthought that it would not be amiss to ask for a little more. He\nvisited it again, therefore, and standing beside its huge, rough\ntrunk, inquired what he should do next.\n\nThis time there was no such universal quivering of the leaves\nthroughout the whole tree as there had been before. But after a while\nJason observed that the foliage of a great branch which stretched\nabove his head had begun to rustle as if the wind were stirring that\none bough, while all the other boughs of the oak were at rest.\n\n\"Cut me off!\" said the branch, as soon as it could speak distinctly;\n\"cut me off! cut me off! and carve me into a figurehead for your\ngalley.\"\n\nAccordingly, Jason took the branch at its word and lopped it off the\ntree. A carver in the neighborhood engaged to make the figurehead. He\nwas a tolerably good workman and had already carved several\nfigureheads in what he intended for feminine shapes, and looking\npretty much like those which we see nowadays stuck up under a vessel's\nbowsprit, with great staring eyes that never wink at the dash of the\nspray. But (what was very strange) the carver found that his hand was\nguided by some unseen power and by a skill beyond his own, and that\nhis tools shaped out an image which he had never dreamed of. When the\nwork was finished it turned out to be the figure of a beautiful woman,\nwith a helmet on her head, from beneath which the long ringlets fell\ndown upon her shoulders. On the left arm was a shield and in its\ncenter appeared a lifelike representation of the head of Medusa with\nthe snaky locks. The right arm was extended as if pointing onward. The\nface of this wonderful statue, though not angry or forbidding, was so\ngrave and majestic that perhaps you might call it severe; and as for\nthe mouth, it seemed just ready to unclose its lips and utter words of\nthe deepest wisdom.\n\nJason was delighted with the oaken image and gave the carver no rest\nuntil it was completed and set up where a figurehead has always stood,\nfrom that time to this, in the vessel's prow.\n\n\"And now,\" cried he, as he stood gazing at the calm, majestic face of\nthe statue, \"I must go to the Talking Oak and inquire what next to\ndo.\"\n\n\"There is no need of that, Jason,\" said a voice which, though it was\nfar lower, reminded him of the mighty tones of the great oak. \"When\nyou desire good advice you can seek it of me.\"\n\nJason had been looking straight into the face of the image when these\nwords were spoken. But he could hardly believe either his ears or his\neyes. The truth was, however, that the oaken lips had moved, and to\nall appearance, the voice had proceeded from the statue's mouth.\nRecovering a little from his surprise, Jason bethought himself that\nthe image had been carved out of the wood of the Talking Oak, and\nthat, therefore, it was really no great wonder, but, on the contrary,\nthe most natural thing in the world, that it should possess the\nfaculty of speech. It should have been very odd indeed if it had not.\nBut certainly it was a great piece of good fortune that he should be\nable to carry so wise a block of wood along with him in his perilous\nvoyage.\n\n\"Tell me, wondrous image,\" exclaimed Jason, \"since you inherit the\nwisdom of the Speaking Oak of Dodona, whose daughter you are--tell me,\nwhere shall I find fifty bold youths who will take each of them an oar\nof my galley? They must have sturdy arms to row and brave hearts to\nencounter perils, or we shall never win the Golden Fleece.\"\n\n\"Go,\" replied the oaken image, \"go, summon all the heroes of Greece.\"\n\nAnd, in fact, considering what a great deed was to be done, could any\nadvice be wiser than this which Jason received from the figurehead of\nhis vessel? He lost no time in sending messengers to all the cities,\nand making known to the whole people of Greece that Prince Jason, the\nson of King \u00c6son, was going in quest of the Fleece of Gold, and he\ndesired the help of forty-nine of the bravest and strongest young men\nalive, to row his vessel and share his dangers. And Jason himself\nwould be the fiftieth.\n\nAt this news the adventurous youths all over the country began to\nbestir themselves. Some of them had already fought with giants and\nslain dragons; and the younger ones, who had not yet met with such\ngood fortune, thought it a shame to have lived so long without getting\nastride of a flying serpent or sticking their spears into a Chim\u00e6ra,\nor at least thrusting their right arms down a monstrous lion's throat.\nThere was a fair prospect that they would meet with plenty of such\nadventures before finding the Golden Fleece. As soon as they could\nfurbish up their helmets and shields, therefore, and gird on their\ntrusty swords, they came thronging to Iolchos and clambered on board\nthe new galley. Shaking hands with Jason, they assured him that they\ndid not care a pin for their lives, but would help row the vessel to\nthe remotest edge of the world and as much further as he might think\nit best to go.\n\nMany of these brave fellows had been educated by Chiron, the\nfour-footed pedagogue, and were therefore old schoolmates of Jason and\nknew him to be a lad of spirit. The mighty Hercules, whose shoulders\nafterward held up the sky, was one of them. And there were Castor and\nPollux, the twin brothers, who were never accused of being\nchicken-hearted, although they had been hatched out of an egg; and\nTheseus, who was so renowned for killing the Minotaur; and Lynceus,\nwith his wonderfully sharp eyes, which could see through a millstone\nor look right down into the depths of the earth and discover the\ntreasures that were there; and Orpheus, the very best of harpers, who\nsang and played upon his lyre so sweetly that the brute beasts stood\nupon their hind legs and capered merrily to the music. Yes, and at\nsome of his more moving tunes the rocks bestirred their moss-grown\nbulk out of the ground, and a grove of forest trees uprooted\nthemselves and, nodding their tops to one another, performed a country\ndance.\n\nOne of the rowers was a beautiful young woman named Atalanta, who had\nbeen nursed among the mountains by a bear. So light of foot was this\nfair damsel that she could step from one foamy crest of a wave to the\nfoamy crest of another without wetting more than the sole of her\nsandal. She had grown up in a very wild way and talked much about the\nrights of women, and loved hunting and war far better than her needle.\nBut in my opinion, the most remarkable of this famous company were two\nsons of the North Wind (airy youngsters, and of rather a blustering\ndisposition), who had wings on their shoulders, and, in case of a\ncalm, could puff out their cheeks and blow almost as fresh a breeze as\ntheir father. I ought not to forget the prophets and conjurers, of\nwhom there were several in the crew, and who could foretell what would\nhappen tomorrow, or the next day, or a hundred years hence, but were\ngenerally quite unconscious of what was passing at the moment.\n\nJason appointed Tiphys to be helmsman, because he was a star-gazer and\nknew the points of the compass. Lynceus, on account of his sharp\nsight, was stationed as a lookout in the prow, where he saw a whole\nday's sail ahead, but was rather apt to overlook things that lay\ndirectly under his nose. If the sea only happened to be deep enough,\nhowever, Lynceus could tell you exactly what kind of rocks or sands\nwere at the bottom of it; and he often cried out to his companions\nthat they were sailing over heaps of sunken treasure, which yet he was\nnone the richer for beholding. To confess the truth, few people\nbelieved him when he said it.\n\nWell! But when the Argonauts, as these fifty brave adventurers were\ncalled, had prepared everything for the voyage, an unforeseen\ndifficulty threatened to end it before it was begun. The vessel, you\nmust understand, was so long and broad and ponderous that the united\nforce of all the fifty was insufficient to shove her into the water.\nHercules, I suppose, had not grown to his full strength, else he might\nhave set her afloat as easily as a little boy launches his boat upon a\npuddle. But here were these fifty heroes, pushing and straining and\ngrowing red in the face without making the Argo start an inch. At\nlast, quite wearied out, they sat themselves down on the shore,\nexceedingly disconsolate and thinking that the vessel must be left to\nrot and fall in pieces and that they must either swim across the sea\nor lose the Golden Fleece.\n\nAll at once Jason bethought himself of the galley's miraculous\nfigurehead.\n\n\"Oh, daughter of the Talking Oak,\" cried he, \"how shall we set to\nwork to get our vessel into the water?\"\n\n\"Seat yourselves,\" answered the image (for it had known what had ought\nto be done from the very first and was only waiting for the question\nto be put), \"seat yourselves and handle your oars, and let Orpheus\nplay upon his harp.\"\n\nImmediately the fifty heroes got on board, and seizing their oars,\nheld them perpendicularly in the air, while Orpheus (who liked such a\ntask far better than rowing) swept his fingers across the harp. At the\nfirst ringing note of the music they felt the vessel stir. Orpheus\nthrummed away briskly and the galley slid at once into the sea,\ndipping her prow so deeply that the figurehead drank the wave with its\nmarvelous lips, and rising again as buoyant as a swan. The rowers\nplied their fifty oars, the white foam boiled up before the prow, the\nwater gurgled and bubbled in their wake, while Orpheus continued to\nplay so lively a strain of music that the vessel seemed to dance over\nthe billows by way of keeping time to it. Thus triumphantly did the\nArgo sail out of the harbor amid the huzzas and good wishes of\neverybody except the wicked old Pelias, who stood on a promontory\nscowling at her and wishing that he could blow out of his lungs the\ntempest of wrath that was in his heart and so sink the galley with all\non board. When they had sailed above fifty miles over the sea Lynceus\nhappened to cast his sharp eyes behind, and said that there was this\nbad-hearted king, still perched upon the promontory, and scowling so\ngloomily that it looked like a black thunder-cloud in that quarter of\nthe horizon.\n\nIn order to make the time pass away more pleasantly during the voyage,\nthe heroes talked about the Golden Fleece. It originally belonged, it\nappears, to a B\u0153otian ram, who had taken on his back two children,\nwhen in danger of their lives, and fled with them over land and sea as\nfar as Colchis. One of the children, whose name was Helle, fell into\nthe sea and was drowned. But the other (a little boy named Phrixus)\nwas brought safe ashore by the faithful ram, who, however, was so\nexhausted that he immediately lay down and died. In memory of this\ngood deed, and as a token of his true heart, the fleece of the poor\ndead ram was miraculously changed to gold and became one of the most\nbeautiful objects ever seen on earth. It was hung upon a tree in a\nsacred grove, where it had now been kept I know not how many years,\nand was the envy of mighty kings who had nothing so magnificent in any\nof their palaces.\n\nIf I were to tell you all the adventures of the Argonauts it would\ntake me till nightfall and perhaps a great deal longer. There was no\nlack of wonderful events, as you may judge from what you have already\nheard. At a certain island they were hospitably received by King\nCyzicus, its sovereign, who made a feast for them and treated them\nlike brothers. But the Argonauts saw that this good king looked\ndowncast and very much troubled, and they therefore inquired of him\nwhat was the matter. King Cyzicus hereupon informed them that he and\nhis subjects were greatly abused and incommoded by the inhabitants of\na neighboring mountain, who made war upon them and killed many people\nand ravaged the country. And while they were talking about it Cyzicus\npointed to the mountain and asked Jason and his companions what they\nsaw there.\n\n\"I see some very tall objects,\" answered Jason, \"but they are at such\na distance that I cannot distinctly make out what they are. To tell\nyour majesty the truth, they look so very strangely that I am inclined\nto think them clouds which have chanced to take something like human\nshapes.\"\n\n\"I see them very plainly,\" remarked Lynceus, whose eyes, you know,\nwere as far-sighted as a telescope. \"They are a band of enormous\ngiants, all of whom have six arms apiece, and a club, a sword or some\nother weapon in each of their hands.\"\n\n\"You have excellent eyes,\" said King Cyzicus. \"Yes, they are six-armed\ngiants, as you say, and these are the enemies whom I and my subjects\nhave to contend with.\"\n\nThe next day, when the Argonauts were about setting sail, down came\nthese terrible giants, stepping a hundred yards at a stride,\nbrandishing their six arms apiece and looking very formidable so far\naloft in the air. Each of these monsters was able to carry on a whole\nwar by himself, for with one of his arms he could fling immense stones\nand wield a club with another and a sword with a third, while a fourth\nwas poking a long spear at the enemy and the fifth and sixth were\nshooting him with a bow and arrow. But luckily, though the giants were\nso huge and had so many arms, they had each but one heart and that no\nbigger nor braver than the heart of an ordinary man. Besides, if they\nhad been like the hundred-armed Briareus, the brave Argonauts would\nhave given them their hands full of fight. Jason and his friends went\nboldly to meet them, slew a great many and made the rest take to their\nheels--so that if the giants had had six legs apiece instead of six\narms, it would have served them better to run away with.\n\nAnother strange adventure happened when the voyagers came to Thrace,\nwhere they found a poor blind king named Phineus, deserted by his\nsubjects and living in a very sorrowful way all by himself. On Jason's\ninquiring whether they could do him any service, the king answered\nthat he was terribly tormented by three great winged creatures called\nHarpies, which had the faces of women and the wings, bodies and claws\nof vultures. These ugly wretches were in the habit of snatching away\nhis dinner, and allowed him no peace of his life. Upon hearing this\nthe Argonauts spread a plentiful feast on the seashore, well knowing\nfrom what the blind king said of their greediness that the Harpies\nwould snuff up the scent of the victuals and quickly come to steal\nthem away. And so it turned out, for hardly was the table set before\nthe three hideous vulture-women came flapping their wings, seized the\nfood in their talons and flew off as fast as they could. But the two\nsons of the North Wind drew their swords, spread their pinions and set\noff through the air in pursuit of the thieves, whom they at last\novertook among some islands, after a chase of hundreds of miles. The\ntwo winged youths blustered terribly at the Harpies (for they had the\nrough temper of their father), and so frightened them with their drawn\nswords that they solemnly promised never to trouble King Phineus\nagain.\n\nThen the Argonauts sailed onward and met with many other marvelous\nincidents, any one of which would make a story by itself. At one time\nthey landed on an island and were reposing on the grass, when they\nsuddenly found themselves assailed by what seemed a shower of\nsteel-headed arrows. Some of them stuck in the ground, while others\nhit against their shields and several penetrated their flesh. The\nfifty heroes started up and looked about them for the hidden enemy,\nbut could find none nor see any spot on the whole island where even a\nsingle archer could lie concealed. Still, however, the steel-headed\narrows came whizzing among them; and at last, happening to look\nupward, they beheld a large flock of birds hovering and wheeling aloft\nand shooting their feathers down upon the Argonauts. These feathers\nwere the steel-headed arrows that had so tormented them. There was no\npossibility of making any resistance, and the fifty heroic Argonauts\nmight all have been killed or wounded by a flock of troublesome birds\nwithout ever setting eyes on the Golden Fleece if Jason had not\nthought of asking the advice of the oaken image.\n\nSo he ran to the galley as fast as his legs would carry him.\n\n\"O daughter of the Speaking Oak,\" cried he, all out of breath, \"we\nneed your wisdom more than ever before! We are in great peril from a\nflock of birds, who are shooting us with their steel-pointed feathers.\nWhat can we do to drive them away?\"\n\n\"Make a clatter on your shields,\" said the image.\n\nOn receiving this excellent counsel, Jason hurried back to his\ncompanions (who were far more dismayed than when they fought with the\nsix-armed giants) and bade them strike with their swords upon their\nbrazen shields. Forthwith the fifty heroes set heartily to work,\nbanging with might and main, and raised such a terrible clatter that\nthe birds made what haste they could to get away; and though they had\nshot half the feathers out of their wings, they were soon seen\nskimming among the clouds, a long distance off and looking like a\nflock of wild geese. Orpheus celebrated this victory by playing a\ntriumphant anthem on his harp, and sang so melodiously that Jason\nbegged him to desist, lest, as the steel-feathered birds had been\ndriven away by an ugly sound, they might be enticed back again by a\nsweet one.\n\nWhile the Argonauts remained on this island they saw a small vessel\napproaching the shore, in which were two young men of princely\ndemeanor, and exceedingly handsome, as young princes generally were in\nthose days. Now, who do you imagine these two voyagers turned out to\nbe? Why, if you will believe me, they were the sons of that very\nPhrixus, who in his childhood had been carried to Colchis on the back\nof the golden-fleeced ram. Since that time Phrixus had married the\nking's daughter, and the two young princes had been born and brought\nup at Colchis, and had spent their play days on the outskirts of the\ngrove, in the center of which the Golden Fleece was hanging upon a\ntree. They were now on their way to Greece, in hopes of getting back\na kingdom that had been wrongfully taken from their father.\n\nWhen the princes understood whither the Argonauts were going they\noffered to turn back and guide them to Colchis. At the same time,\nhowever, they spoke as if it were very doubtful whether Jason would\nsucceed in getting the Golden Fleece. According to their account, the\ntree on which it hung was guarded by a terrible dragon, who never\nfailed to devour at one mouthful every person who might venture within\nhis reach.\n\n\"There are other difficulties in the way,\" continued the young\nprinces. \"But is not this enough? Ah, brave Jason, turn back before it\nis too late! It would grieve us to the heart if you and your\nforty-nine brave companions should be eaten up, at fifty mouthfuls, by\nthis execrable dragon.\"\n\n\"My young friends,\" quietly replied Jason, \"I do not wonder that you\nthink the dragon very terrible. You have grown up from infancy in the\nfear of this monster, and therefore still regard him with the awe that\nchildren feel for the bugbears and hobgoblins which their nurses have\ntalked to them about. But in my view of the matter, the dragon is\nmerely a pretty large serpent who is not half so likely to snap me up\nat one mouthful as I am to cut off his ugly head and strip the skin\nfrom his body. At all events, turn back who may, I will never see\nGreece again unless I carry with me the Golden Fleece.\"\n\n\"We will none of us turn back!\" cried his forty-nine brave comrades.\n\"Let us get on board the galley this instant, and if the dragon is to\nmake a breakfast of us, much good may it do him.\"\n\nAnd Orpheus (whose custom it was to set everything to music) began to\nharp and sing most gloriously, and made every mother's son of them\nfeel as if nothing in this world were so delectable as to fight\ndragons and nothing so truly honorable as to be eaten up at one\nmouthful, in case of the worst.\n\nAfter this (being now under the guidance of the two princes, who were\nwell acquainted with the way) they quickly sailed to Colchis. When the\nking of the country, whose name was \u00c6etes, heard of their arrival, he\ninstantly summoned Jason to court. The king was a stern and\ncruel-looking potentate, and though he put on as polite and hospitable\nan expression as he could, Jason did not like his face a whit better\nthan that of the wicked King Pelias, who dethroned his father.\n\n\"You are welcome, brave Jason,\" said King \u00c6etes. \"Pray, are you on a\npleasure voyage?--or do you meditate the discovery of unknown\nislands?--or what other cause has procured me the happiness of seeing\nyou at my court?\"\n\n\"Great sir,\" replied Jason, with an obeisance--for Chiron had taught\nhim how to behave with propriety, whether to kings or beggars--\"I have\ncome hither with a purpose which I now beg your majesty's permission\nto execute. King Pelias, who sits on my father's throne (to which he\nhas no more right than to the one on which your excellent majesty is\nnow seated), has engaged to come down from it and to give me his crown\nand scepter, provided I bring him the Golden Fleece. This, as your\nmajesty is aware, is now hanging on a tree here at Colchis; and I\nhumbly solicit your gracious leave to take it away.\"\n\nIn spite of himself, the king's face twisted itself into an angry\nfrown; for, above all things else in the world, he prized the Golden\nFleece, and was even suspected of having done a very wicked act in\norder to get it into his own possession. It put him into the worst\npossible humor, therefore, to hear that the gallant Prince Jason and\nforty-nine of the bravest young warriors of Greece had come to Colchis\nwith the sole purpose of taking away his chief treasure.\n\n\"Do you know,\" asked King \u00c6etes, eyeing Jason very sternly, \"what are\nthe conditions which you must fulfill before getting possession of the\nGolden Fleece?\"\n\n\"I have heard,\" rejoined the youth, \"that a dragon lies beneath the\ntree on which the prize hangs, and that whoever approaches him runs\nthe risk of being devoured at a mouthful.\"\n\n\"True,\" said the king, with a smile that did not look particularly\ngood-natured. \"Very true, young man. But there are other things as\nhard, or perhaps a little harder, to be done before you can even have\nthe privilege of being devoured by the dragon. For example, you must\nfirst tame my two brazen-footed and brazen-lunged bulls, which Vulcan,\nthe wonderful blacksmith, made for me. There is a furnace in each of\ntheir stomachs, and they breathe such hot fire out of their mouths and\nnostrils that nobody has hitherto gone nigh them without being\ninstantly burned to a small, black cinder. What do you think of this,\nmy brave Jason?\"\n\n\"I must encounter the peril,\" answered Jason composedly, \"since it\nstands in the way of my purpose.\"\n\n\"After taming the fiery bulls,\" continued King \u00c6etes, who was\ndetermined to scare Jason if possible, \"you must yoke them to a plow\nand must plow the sacred earth in the grove of Mars and sow some of\nthe same dragon's teeth from which Cadmus raised a crop of armed men.\nThey are an unruly set of reprobates, those sons of the dragon's\nteeth, and unless you treat them suitably, they will fall upon you\nsword in hand. You and your forty-nine Argonauts, my bold Jason, are\nhardly numerous or strong enough to fight with such a host as will\nspring up.\"\n\n\"My master Chiron,\" replied Jason, \"taught me long ago the story of\nCadmus. Perhaps I can manage the quarrelsome sons of the dragon's\nteeth as well as Cadmus did.\"\n\n\"I wish the dragon had him,\" muttered King \u00c6etes to himself, \"and the\nfour-footed pedant, his schoolmaster, into the bargain. Why, what a\nfoolhardy, self-conceited coxcomb he is! We'll see what my\nfire-breathing bulls will do for him. Well, Prince Jason,\" he\ncontinued aloud, and as complacently as he could, \"make yourself\ncomfortable for today, and tomorrow morning, since you insist upon it,\nyou shall try your skill at the plow.\"\n\nWhile the king talked with Jason a beautiful young woman was standing\nbehind the throne. She fixed her eyes earnestly upon the youthful\nstranger and listened attentively to every word that was spoken, and\nwhen Jason withdrew from the king's presence this young woman followed\nhim out of the room.\n\n\"I am the king's daughter,\" she said to him, \"and my name is Medea. I\nknow a great deal of which other young princesses are ignorant and can\ndo many things which they would be afraid so much as to dream of. If\nyou will trust to me I can instruct you how to tame the fiery bulls\nand sow the dragon's teeth and get the Golden Fleece.\"\n\n\"Indeed, beautiful princess,\" answered Jason, \"if you will do me this\nservice I promise to be grateful to you my whole life long.\"\n\nGazing at Medea, he beheld a wonderful intelligence in her face. She\nwas one of those persons whose eyes are full of mystery; so that while\nlooking into them, you seem to see a very great way, as into a deep\nwell, yet can never be certain whether you see into the furthest\ndepths or whether there be not something else hidden at the bottom. If\nJason had been capable of fearing anything he would have been afraid\nof making this young princess his enemy; for, beautiful as she now\nlooked, she might the very next instant become as terrible as the\ndragon that kept watch over the Golden Fleece.\n\n[Illustration: THE DRAGON FELL AT FULL LENGTH UPON THE GROUND]\n\n\"Princess,\" he exclaimed, \"you seem indeed very wise and very\npowerful. But how can you help me to do the things of which you speak?\nAre you an enchantress?\"\n\n\"Yes, Prince Jason,\" answered Medea, with a smile, \"you have hit upon\nthe truth. I am an enchantress. Circe, my father's sister, taught me\nto be one, and I could tell you, if I pleased, who was the old woman\nwith the peacock, the pomegranate and the cuckoo staff, whom you\ncarried over the river; and likewise, who it is that speaks through\nthe lips of the oaken image that stands in the prow of your galley. I\nam acquainted with some of your secrets, you perceive. It is well for\nyou that I am favorably inclined, for otherwise you would hardly\nescape being snapped up by the dragon.\"\n\n\"I should not so much care for the dragon,\" replied Jason, \"if I only\nknew how to manage the brazen-footed and fiery-lunged bulls.\"\n\n\"If you are as brave as I think you, and as you have need to be,\" said\nMedea, \"your own bold heart will teach you that there is but one way\nof dealing with a mad bull. What it is I leave you to find out in the\nmoment of peril. As for the fiery breath of these animals, I have a\ncharmed ointment here which will prevent you from being burned up and\ncure you if you chance to be a little scorched.\"\n\nSo she put a golden box into his hand and directed him how to apply\nthe perfumed unguent which it contained, and where to meet her at\nmidnight.\n\n\"Only be brave,\" added she, \"and before daybreak the brazen bulls\nshall be tamed.\"\n\nThe young man assured her that his heart would not fail him. He then\nrejoined his comrades, and told them what had passed between the\nprincess and himself, and warned them to be in readiness in case there\nmight be need of their help.\n\nAt the appointed hour he met the beautiful Medea on the marble steps\nof the king's palace. She gave him a basket, in which were the\ndragon's teeth, just as they had been pulled out of the monster's jaws\nby Cadmus long ago. Medea then led Jason down the palace steps and\nthrough the silent streets of the city and into the royal\npasture-ground, where the two brazen-footed bulls were kept. It was a\nstarry night, with a bright gleam along the eastern edge of the sky,\nwhere the moon was soon going to show herself. After entering the\npasture the princess paused and looked around.\n\n\"There they are,\" said she, \"reposing themselves and chewing their\nfiery cuds in that furthest corner of the field. It will be excellent\nsport, I assure you, when they catch a glimpse of your figure. My\nfather and all his court delight in nothing so much as to see a\nstranger trying to yoke them in order to come at the Golden Fleece. It\nmakes a holiday in Colchis whenever such a thing happens. For my part,\nI enjoy it immensely. You cannot imagine in what a mere twinkling of\nan eye their hot breath shrivels a young man into a black cinder.\"\n\n\"Are you sure, beautiful Medea,\" asked Jason, \"quite sure, that the\nunguent in the gold box will prove a remedy against those terrible\nburns?\"\n\n\"If you doubt, if you are in the least afraid,\" said the princess,\nlooking him in the face by the dim starlight, \"you had better never\nhave been born than go a step nigher to the bulls.\"\n\nBut Jason had set his heart steadfastly on getting the Golden Fleece,\nand I positively doubt whether he would have gone back without it even\nhad he been certain of finding himself turned into a red-hot cinder,\nor a handful of white ashes the instant he made a step further. He\ntherefore let go Medea's hand and walked boldly forward in the\ndirection whither she had pointed. At some distance before him he\nperceived four streams of fiery vapor, regularly appearing and again\nvanishing after dimly lighting up the surrounding obscurity. These,\nyou will understand, were caused by the breath of the brazen bulls,\nwhich was quietly stealing out of their four nostrils as they lay\nchewing their cuds.\n\nAt the first two or three steps which Jason made the four fiery\nstreams appeared to gush out somewhat more plentifully, for the two\nbrazen bulls had heard his foot-tramp and were lifting up their hot\nnoses to snuff the air. He went a little further, and by the way in\nwhich the red vapor now spouted forth he judged that the creatures had\ngot upon their feet. Now he could see glowing sparks and vivid jets of\nflame. At the next step each of the bulls made the pasture echo with a\nterrible roar, while the burning breath which they thus belched forth\nlit up the whole field with a momentary flash.\n\nOne other stride did bold Jason make; and suddenly, as a streak of\nlightning, on came these fiery animals, roaring like thunder and\nsending out sheets of white flame, which so kindled up the scene that\nthe young man could discern every object more distinctly than by\ndaylight. Most distinctly of all he saw the two horrible creatures\ngalloping right down upon him, their brazen hoofs rattling and ringing\nover the ground and their tails sticking up stiffly into the air, as\nhas always been the fashion with angry bulls. Their breath scorched\nthe herbage before them. So intensely hot it was, indeed, that it\ncaught a dry tree under which Jason was now standing and set it all in\na light blaze. But as for Jason himself (thanks to Medea's enchanted\nointment), the white flame curled around his body without injuring him\na jot more than if he had been made of asbestos.\n\nGreatly encouraged at finding himself not yet turned into a cinder,\nthe young man awaited the attack of the bulls. Just as the brazen\nbrutes fancied themselves sure of tossing him into the air he caught\none of them by the horn and the other by his screwed-up tail and held\nthem in a grip like that of an iron vise, one with his right hand, the\nother with his left. Well, he must have been wonderfully strong in his\narms, to be sure! But the secret of the matter was that the brazen\nbulls were enchanted creatures and that Jason had broken the spell of\ntheir fiery fierceness by his bold way of handling them. And ever\nsince that time it has been the favorite method of brave men, when\ndanger assails them, to do what they call \"taking the bull by the\nhorns\"; and to grip him by the tail is pretty much the same\nthing--that is, to throw aside fear and overcome the peril by\ndespising it.\n\nIt was now easy to yoke the bulls and to harness them to the plow\nwhich had lain rusting on the ground for a great many years gone by,\nso long was it before anybody could be found capable of plowing that\npiece of land. Jason, I suppose, had been taught how to draw a furrow\nby the good old Chiron, who, perhaps, used to allow himself to be\nharnessed to the plow. At any rate, our hero succeeded perfectly well\nin breaking up the greensward; and by the time that the moon was a\nquarter of her journey up the sky the plowed field lay before him, a\nlarge tract of black earth, ready to be sown with the dragon's teeth.\nSo Jason scattered them broadcast and harrowed them into the soil with\na brush-harrow, and took his stand on the edge of the field, anxious\nto see what would happen next.\n\n\"Must we wait long for harvest-time?\" he inquired of Medea, who was\nnow standing by his side.\n\n\"Whether sooner or later, it will be sure to come,\" answered the\nprincess. \"A crop of armed men never fails to spring up when the\ndragon's teeth have been sown.\"\n\nThe moon was now high aloft in the heavens and threw its bright beams\nover the plowed field, where as yet there was nothing to be seen. Any\nfarmer, on viewing it, would have said that Jason must wait weeks\nbefore the green blades would peep from among the clods, and whole\nmonths before the yellow grain would be ripened for the sickle. But by\nand by, all over the field, there was something that glistened in the\nmoonbeams like sparkling drops of dew. These bright objects sprouted\nhigher and proved to be the steel heads of spears. Then there was a\ndazzling gleam from a vast number of polished brass helmets, beneath\nwhich, as they grew further out of the soil, appeared the dark and\nbearded visages of warriors, struggling to free themselves from the\nimprisoning earth. The first look that they gave at the upper world\nwas a glare of wrath and defiance. Next were seen their bright\nbreastplates; in every right hand there was a sword or a spear and on\neach left arm a shield; and when this strange crop of warriors had but\nhalf grown out of the earth, they struggled--such was their impatience\nof restraint--and, as it were, tore themselves up by the roots.\nWherever a dragon's tooth had fallen, there stood a man armed for\nbattle. They made a clangor with their swords against their shields,\nand eyed one another fiercely; for they had come into this beautiful\nworld and into the peaceful moonlight full of rage and stormy passions\nand ready to take the life of every human brother in recompense for\nthe boon of their own existence.\n\nThere have been many other armies in the world that seemed to possess\nthe same fierce nature with the one which had now sprouted from the\ndragon's teeth; but these in the moonlit field were the more\nexcusable, because they never had women for their mothers. And now it\nwould have rejoiced any great captain who was bent on conquering the\nworld, like Alexander or Napoleon, to raise a crop of armed soldiers\nas easily as Jason did!\n\nFor awhile the warriors stood flourishing their weapons, clashing\ntheir swords against their shields and boiling over with the red-hot\nthirst for battle. Then they began to shout, \"Show us the enemy! Lead\nus to the charge! Death or victory! Come on, brave comrades! Conquer\nor die!\" and a hundred other outcries, such as men always bellow forth\non a battle-field and which these dragon people seemed to have at\ntheir tongues' ends. At last the front rank caught sight of Jason,\nwho, beholding the flash of so many weapons in the moonlight, had\nthought it best to draw his sword. In a moment all the sons of the\ndragon's teeth appeared to take Jason for an enemy; and crying with\none voice, \"Guard the Golden Fleece!\" they ran at him with uplifted\nswords and protruded spears. Jason knew that it would be impossible to\nwithstand this bloodthirsty battalion with his single arm, but\ndetermined, since there was nothing better to be done, to die as\nvaliantly as if he himself had sprung from a dragon's tooth.\n\nMedea, however, bade him snatch up a stone from the ground.\n\n\"Throw it among them quickly!\" cried she. \"It is the only way to save\nyourself.\"\n\nThe armed men were now so nigh that Jason could discern the fire\nflashing out of their enraged eyes, when he let fly the stone and saw\nit strike the helmet of a tall warrior who was rushing upon him with\nhis blade aloft. The stone glanced from this man's helmet to the\nshield of his nearest comrade, and thence flew right into the angry\nface of another, hitting him smartly between the eyes. Each of the\nthree who had been struck by the stone took it for granted that his\nnext neighbor had given him a blow; and instead of running any further\ntoward Jason, they began to fight among themselves. The confusion\nspread through the host, so that it seemed scarcely a moment before\nthey were all hacking, hewing and stabbing at one another, lopping off\narms, heads and legs and doing such memorable deeds that Jason was\nfilled with immense admiration; although, at the same time, he could\nnot help laughing to behold these mighty men punishing each other for\nan offense which he himself had committed. In an incredibly short\nspace of time (almost as short, indeed, as it had taken them to grow\nup) all but one of the heroes of the dragon's teeth were stretched\nlifeless on the field. The last survivor, the bravest and strongest of\nthe whole, had just force enough to wave his crimson sword over his\nhead and give a shout of exultation, crying, \"Victory! Victory!\nImmortal fame!\" when he himself fell down and lay quietly among his\nslain brethren.\n\nAnd there was the end of the army that had sprouted from the dragon's\nteeth. That fierce and feverish fight was the only enjoyment which\nthey had tasted on this beautiful earth.\n\n\"Let them sleep in the bed of honor,\" said the Princess Medea, with a\nsly smile at Jason. \"The world will always have simpletons enough,\njust like them, fighting and dying for they know not what, and\nfancying that posterity will take the trouble to put laurel wreaths on\ntheir rusty and battered helmets. Could you help smiling, Prince\nJason, to see the self-conceit of that last fellow, just as he tumbled\ndown?\"\n\n\"It made me very sad,\" answered Jason gravely. \"And to tell you the\ntruth, princess, the Golden Fleece does not appear so well worth the\nwinning, after what I have here beheld.\"\n\n\"You will think differently in the morning,\" said Medea. \"True, the\nGolden Fleece may not be so valuable as you have thought it; but then\nthere is nothing better in the world, and one must needs have an\nobject, you know. Come! Your night's work has been well performed; and\ntomorrow you can inform King \u00c6etes that the first part of your\nallotted task is fulfilled.\"\n\nAgreeably to Medea's advice, Jason went betimes in the morning to the\npalace of king \u00c6etes. Entering the presence chamber, he stood at the\nfoot of the throne and made a low obeisance.\n\n\"Your eyes look heavy, Prince Jason,\" observed the king; \"you appear\nto have spent a sleepless night. I hope you have been considering the\nmatter a little more wisely and have concluded not to get yourself\nscorched to a cinder in attempting to tame my brazen-lunged bulls.\"\n\n\"That is already accomplished, may it please your majesty,\" replied\nJason. \"The bulls have been tamed and yoked; the field has been\nplowed; the dragon's teeth have been sown broadcast and harrowed into\nthe soil; the crop of armed warriors has sprung up and they have slain\none another to the last man. And now I solicit your majesty's\npermission to encounter the dragon, that I may take down the Golden\nFleece from the tree and depart with my forty-nine comrades.\"\n\nKing \u00c6etes scowled and looked very angry and excessively disturbed;\nfor he knew that, in accordance with his kingly promise, he ought now\nto permit Jason to win the fleece if his courage and skill should\nenable him to do so. But since the young man had met with such good\nluck in the matter of the brazen bulls and dragon's teeth, the king\nfeared that he would be equally successful in slaying the dragon. And\ntherefore, though he would gladly have seen Jason snapped up at a\nmouthful, he was resolved (and it was a very wrong thing of this\nwicked potentate) not to run any further risk of losing his beloved\nfleece.\n\n\"You never would have succeeded in this business, young man,\" said he,\n\"if my undutiful daughter Medea had not helped you with her\nenchantments. Had you acted fairly, you would have been at this\ninstant a black cinder or a handful of white ashes. I forbid you, on\npain of death, to make any more attempts to get the Golden Fleece. To\nspeak my mind plainly, you shall never set eyes on so much as one of\nits glistening locks.\"\n\nJason left the king's presence in great sorrow and anger. He could\nthink of nothing better to be done than to summon together his\nforty-nine brave Argonauts, march at once to the grove of Mars, slay\nthe dragon, take possession of the Golden Fleece, get on board the\nArgo and spread all sail for Iolchos. The success of this scheme\ndepended, it is true, on the doubtful point whether all the fifty\nheroes might not be snapped up as so many mouthfuls by the dragon. But\nas Jason was hastening down the palace steps, the Princess Medea\ncalled after him and beckoned him to return. Her black eyes shone upon\nhim with such a keen intelligence that he felt as if there were a\nserpent peeping out of them, and although she had done him so much\nservice only the night before, he was by no means very certain that\nshe would not do him an equally great mischief before sunset. These\nenchantresses, you must know, are never to be depended upon.\n\n\"What says King \u00c6etes, my royal and upright father?\" inquired Medea,\nslightly smiling. \"Will he give you the Golden Fleece without any\nfurther risk or trouble?\"\n\n\"On the contrary,\" answered Jason, \"he is very angry with me for\ntaming the brazen bulls and sowing the dragon's teeth. And he forbids\nme to make any more attempts, and positively refuses to give up the\nGolden Fleece, whether I slay the dragon or no.\"\n\n\"Yes, Jason,\" said the princess, \"and I can tell you more. Unless you\nset sail from Colchis before tomorrow's sunrise, the king means to\nburn your fifty-oared galley and put yourself and your forty-nine\nbrave comrades to the sword. But be of good courage. The Golden Fleece\nyou shall have if it lies within the power of my enchantments to get\nit for you. Wait for me here an hour before midnight.\"\n\nAt the appointed hour you might again have seen Prince Jason and the\nPrincess Medea, side by side, stealing through the streets of Colchis\non their way to the sacred grove, in the center of which the Golden\nFleece was suspended to a tree. While they were crossing the pasture\nground the brazen bulls came toward Jason, lowing, nodding their heads\nand thrusting forth their snouts, which, as other cattle do, they\nloved to have rubbed and caressed by a friendly hand. Their fierce\nnature was thoroughly tamed; and with their fierceness, the two\nfurnaces in their stomachs had likewise been extinguished, insomuch\nthat they probably enjoyed far more comfort in grazing and chewing\ntheir cuds than ever before. Indeed, it had heretofore been a great\ninconvenience to these poor animals that, whenever they wished to eat\na mouthful of grass, the fire out of their nostrils had shriveled it\nup before they could manage to crop it. How they contrived to keep\nthemselves alive is more than I can imagine. But now, instead of\nemitting jets of flame and streams of sulphurous vapor, they breathed\nthe very sweetest of cow breath.\n\nAfter kindly patting the bulls, Jason followed Medea's guidance into\nthe Grove of Mars, where the great oak trees that had been growing for\ncenturies threw so thick a shade that the moonbeams struggled vainly\nto find their way through it. Only here and there a glimmer fell upon\nthe leaf-strewn earth, or now and then a breeze stirred the boughs\naside and gave Jason a glimpse of the sky, lest in that deep obscurity\nhe might forget that there was one overhead. At length, when they had\ngone further and further into the heart of the duskiness, Medea\nsqueezed Jason's hand.\n\n\"Look yonder,\" she whispered. \"Do you see it?\"\n\nGleaming among the venerable oaks there was a radiance, not like the\nmoonbeams, but rather resembling the golden glory of the setting sun.\nIt proceeded from an object which appeared to be suspended at about a\nman's height from the ground, a little further within the wood.\n\n\"What is it?\" asked Jason.\n\n\"Have you come so far to seek it,\" exclaimed Medea, \"and do you not\nrecognize the meed of all your toils and perils when it glitters\nbefore your eyes? It is the Golden Fleece.\"\n\nJason went onward a few steps further, and then stopped to gaze. Oh,\nhow beautiful it looked, shining with a marvelous light of its own,\nthat inestimable prize which so many heroes had longed to behold, but\nhad perished in the quest of it, either by the perils of their voyage\nor by the fiery breath of the brazen-lunged bulls.\n\n\"How gloriously it shines!\" cried Jason in a rapture. \"It has surely\nbeen dipped in the richest gold of sunset. Let me hasten onward and\ntake it to my bosom.\"\n\n\"Stay,\" said Medea, holding him back. \"Have you forgotten what guards\nit?\"\n\nTo say the truth, in the joy of beholding the object of his desires,\nthe terrible dragon had quite slipped out of Jason's memory. Soon,\nhowever, something came to pass that reminded him what perils were\nstill to be encountered. An antelope that probably mistook the yellow\nradiance for sunrise came bounding fleetly through the grove. He was\nrushing straight toward the Golden Fleece, when suddenly there was a\nfrightful hiss and the immense head and half the scaly body of the\ndragon was thrust forth (for he was twisted round the trunk of the\ntree on which the fleece hung), and seizing the poor antelope,\nswallowed him with one snap of his jaws.\n\nAfter this feat, the dragon seemed sensible that some other living\ncreature was within reach, on which he felt inclined to finish his\nmeal. In various directions he kept poking his ugly snout among the\ntrees, stretching out his neck a terrible long way, now here, now\nthere and now close to the spot where Jason and the princess were\nhiding behind an oak. Upon my word, as the head came waving and\nundulating through the air and reaching almost within arm's length of\nPrince Jason, it was a very hideous and uncomfortable sight. The gape\nof his enormous jaws was nearly as wide as the gateway of the king's\npalace.\n\n\"Well, Jason,\" whispered Medea (for she was ill natured, as all\nenchantresses are, and wanted to make the bold youth tremble), \"what\ndo you think now of your prospect of winning the Golden Fleece?\"\n\nJason answered only by drawing his sword and making a step forward.\n\n\"Stay, foolish youth,\" said Medea, grasping his arm. \"Do not you see\nyou are lost without me as your good angel? In this gold box I have a\nmagic potion which will do the dragon's business far more effectually\nthan your sword.\"\n\nThe dragon had probably heard the voices, for swift as lightning his\nblack head and forked tongue came hissing among the trees again,\ndarting full forty feet at a stretch. As it approached, Medea tossed\nthe contents of the gold box right down the monster's wide-open\nthroat. Immediately, with an outrageous hiss and a tremendous\nwriggle--flinging his tail up to the tip-top of the tallest tree and\nshattering all its branches as it crashed heavily down again--the\ndragon fell at full length upon the ground and lay quite motionless.\n\n\"It is only a sleeping potion,\" said the enchantress to Prince Jason.\n\"One always finds a use for these mischievous creatures sooner or\nlater; so I did not wish to kill him outright. Quick! Snatch the\nprize and let us begone. You have won the Golden Fleece.\"\n\nJason caught the fleece from the tree and hurried through the grove,\nthe deep shadows of which were illuminated as he passed, by the golden\nglory of the precious object that he bore along. A little way before\nhim he beheld the old woman whom he had helped over the stream, with\nher peacock beside her. She clapped her hands for joy, and beckoning\nhim to haste, disappeared among the duskiness of the trees. Espying\nthe two winged sons of the North Wind (who were disporting themselves\nin the moonlight a few hundred feet aloft), Jason bade them tell the\nrest of the Argonauts to embark as speedily as possible. But Lynceus,\nwith his sharp eyes, had already caught a glimpse of him, bringing the\nGolden Fleece, although several stone walls, a hill, and the black\nshadows of the Grove of Mars intervened between. By his advice the\nheroes had seated themselves on the benches of the galley, with their\noars held perpendicularly, ready to let fall into the water.\n\nAs Jason drew near he heard the Talking Image calling to him with more\nthan ordinary eagerness, in its grave, sweet voice:\n\n\"Make haste, Prince Jason! For your life, make haste!\"\n\nWith one bound he leaped aboard. At sight of the glorious radiance of\nthe Golden Fleece, the forty-nine heroes gave a mighty shout, and\nOrpheus, striking his harp, sang a song of triumph, to the cadence of\nwhich the galley flew over the water, homeward bound, as if careering\nalong with wings!\n\n\n\n\nTHE CYCLOPS\n\n\nWhen the great city of Troy was taken, all the chiefs who had fought\nagainst it set sail for their homes. But there was wrath in heaven\nagainst them, for indeed they had borne themselves haughtily and\ncruelly in the day of their victory. Therefore they did not all find a\nsafe and happy return. For one was shipwrecked and another was\nshamefully slain by his false wife in his palace, and others found all\nthings at home troubled and changed and were driven to seek new\ndwellings elsewhere. And some, whose wives and friends and people had\nbeen still true to them through those ten long years of absence, were\ndriven far and wide about the world before they saw their native land\nagain. And of all, the wise Ulysses was he who wandered farthest and\nsuffered most.\n\nHe was well-nigh the last to sail, for he had tarried many days to do\npleasure to Agamemnon, lord of all the Greeks. Twelve ships he had\nwith him--twelve he had brought to Troy--and in each there were some\nfifty men, being scarce half of those that had sailed in them in the\nold days, so many valiant heroes slept the last sleep by Simo\u00efs and\nScamander and in the plain and on the seashore, slain in battle or by\nthe shafts of Apollo.\n\nFirst they sailed northwest to the Thracian coast, where the Ciconians\ndwelt, who had helped the men of Troy. Their city they took, and in it\nmuch plunder, slaves and oxen, and jars of fragrant wine, and might\nhave escaped unhurt, but that they stayed to hold revel on the shore.\nFor the Ciconians gathered their neighbors, being men of the same\nblood, and did battle with the invaders and drove them to their ship.\nAnd when Ulysses numbered his men, he found that he had lost six out\nof each ship.\n\nScarce had he set out again when the wind began to blow fiercely; so,\nseeing a smooth, sandy beach, they drove the ships ashore and dragged\nthem out of reach of the waves, and waited till the storm should\nabate. And the third morning being fair, they sailed again and\njourneyed prosperously till they came to the very end of the great\nPeloponnesian land, where Cape Malea looks out upon the southern sea.\nBut contrary currents baffled them, so that they could not round it,\nand the north wind blew so strongly that they must fain drive before\nit. And on the tenth day they came to the land where the lotus\ngrows--a wondrous fruit, of which whosoever eats cares not to see\ncountry or wife or children again. Now the Lotus eaters, for so they\ncall the people of the land, were a kindly folk and gave of the fruit\nto some of the sailors, not meaning them any harm, but thinking it to\nbe the best that they had to give. These, when they had eaten, said\nthat they would not sail any more over the sea; which, when the wise\nUlysses heard, he bade their comrades bind them and carry them, sadly\ncomplaining, to the ships.\n\nThen, the wind having abated, they took to their oars and rowed for\nmany days till they came to the country where the Cyclopes dwell. Now,\na mile or so from the shore there was an island, very fair and\nfertile, but no man dwells there or tills the soil, and in the island\na harbor where a ship may be safe from all winds, and at the head of\nthe harbor a stream falling from the rock, and whispering alders all\nabout it. Into this the ships passed safely and were hauled up on the\nbeach, and the crews slept by them, waiting for the morning. And the\nnext day they hunted the wild goats, of which there was great store on\nthe island, and feasted right merrily on what they caught, with\ndraughts of red wine which they had carried off from the town of the\nCiconians.\n\nBut on the morrow, Ulysses, for he was ever fond of adventure and\nwould know of every land to which he came what manner of men they were\nthat dwelt there, took one of his twelve ships and bade row to the\nland. There was a great hill sloping to the shore, and there rose up\nhere and there a smoke from the caves where the Cyclopes dwelt apart,\nholding no converse with each other, for they were a rude and savage\nfolk, but ruled each his own household, not caring for others. Now\nvery close to the shore was one of these caves, very huge and deep,\nwith laurels round about the mouth, and in front a fold with walls\nbuilt of rough stone and shaded by tall oaks and pines. So Ulysses\nchose out of the crew the twelve bravest, and bade the rest guard the\nship, and went to see what manner of dwelling this was and who abode\nthere. He had his sword by his side, and on his shoulder a mighty skin\nof wine, sweet smelling and strong, with which he might win the heart\nof some fierce savage, should he chance to meet with such, as indeed\nhis prudent heart forecasted that he might.\n\nSo they entered the cave and judged that it was the dwelling of some\nrich and skilful shepherd. For within there were pens for the young of\nthe sheep and of the goats, divided all according to their age, and\nthere were baskets full of cheeses, and full milk pails ranged along\nthe wall. But the Cyclops himself was away in the pastures. Then the\ncompanions of Ulysses besought him that he would depart, taking with\nhim, if he would, a store of cheeses and sundry of the lambs and of\nthe kids. But he would not, for he wished to see, after his wont, what\nmanner of host this strange shepherd might be. And truly he saw it to\nhis cost!\n\n[Illustration: THE ONE-EYED POLYPHEMUS]\n\nIt was evening when the Cyclops came home, a mighty giant, twenty feet\nin height or more. On his shoulder he bore a vast bundle of pine logs\nfor his fire, and threw them down outside the cave with a great\ncrash, and drove the flocks within, and closed the entrance with a\nhuge rock, which twenty wagons and more could not bear. Then he milked\nthe ewes and all the she-goats, and half of the milk he curdled for\ncheese and half he set ready for himself when he should sup. Next he\nkindled a fire with the pine logs, and the flame lighted up all the\ncave, showing Ulysses and his comrades.\n\n\"Who are ye?\" cried Polyphemus, for that was the giant's name. \"Are ye\ntraders or, haply, pirates?\"\n\nFor in those days it was not counted shame to be called a pirate.\n\nUlysses shuddered at the dreadful voice and shape, but bore him\nbravely, and answered, \"We are no pirates, mighty sir, but Greeks,\nsailing back from Troy, and subjects of the great King Agamemnon,\nwhose fame is spread from one end of heaven to the other. And we are\ncome to beg hospitality of thee in the name of Zeus, who rewards or\npunishes hosts and guests according as they be faithful the one to the\nother, or no.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said the giant, \"it is but idle talk to tell me of Zeus and the\nother gods. We Cyclopes take no account of gods, holding ourselves to\nbe much better and stronger than they. But come, tell me where have\nyou left your ship?\"\n\nBut Ulysses saw his thought when he asked about the ship, how he was\nminded to break it and take from them all hope of flight. Therefore he\nanswered him craftily:\n\n\"Ship have we none, for that which was ours King Poseidon brake,\ndriving it on a jutting rock on this coast, and we whom thou seest are\nall that are escaped from the waves.\"\n\nPolyphemus answered nothing, but without more ado caught up two of the\nmen, as a man might catch up the whelps of a dog, and dashed them on\nthe ground, and tore them limb from limb and devoured them, with huge\ndraughts of milk between, leaving not a morsel, not even the very\nbones. But the others, when they saw the dreadful deed, could only\nweep and pray to Zeus for help. And when the giant had ended his foul\nmeal, he lay down among his sheep and slept.\n\nThen Ulysses questioned much in his heart whether he should slay the\nmonster as he slept, for he doubted not that his good sword would\npierce to the giant's heart, mighty as he was. But, being very wise,\nhe remembered that, should he slay him, he and his comrades would yet\nperish miserably. For who should move away the great rock that lay\nagainst the door of the cave? So they waited till the morning. And the\nmonster woke and milked his flocks, and afterward, seizing two men,\ndevoured them for his meal. Then he went to the pastures, but put the\ngreat rock on the mouth of the cave, just as a man puts down the lid\nupon his quiver.\n\nAll that day the wise Ulysses was thinking what he might best do to\nsave himself and his companions, and the end of his thinking was this:\nThere was a mighty pole in the cave, green wood of an olive tree, big\nas a ship's mast, which Polyphemus purposed to use, when the smoke\nshould have dried it, as a walking staff. Of this he cut off a\nfathom's length, and his comrades sharpened it and hardened it in the\nfire and then hid it away. At evening the giant came back and drove\nhis sheep into the cave, nor left the rams outside, as he had been\nwont to do before, but shut them in. And having duly done his\nshepherd's work, he made his cruel feast as before. Then Ulysses came\nforward with the wine skin in his hand and said:\n\n\"Drink, Cyclops, now that thou hast feasted. Drink and see what\nprecious things we had in our ship. But no one hereafter will come to\nthee with such like, if thou dealest with strangers as cruelly as thou\nhast dealt with us.\"\n\nThen the Cyclops drank and was mightily pleased, and said, \"Give me\nagain to drink and tell me thy name, stranger, and I will give thee a\ngift such as a host should give. In good truth this is a rare liquor.\nWe, too, have vines, but they bear no wine like this, which indeed\nmust be such as the gods drink in heaven.\"\n\nThen Ulysses gave him the cup again and he drank. Thrice he gave it to\nhim and thrice he drank, not knowing what it was and how it would work\nwithin his brain.\n\nThen Ulysses spake to him. \"Thou didst ask my name, Cyclops. Lo! my\nname is No Man. And now that thou knowest my name, thou shouldst give\nme thy gift.\"\n\nAnd he said, \"My gift shall be that I will eat thee last of all thy\ncompany.\"\n\nAnd as he spake he fell back in a drunken sleep. Then Ulysses bade his\ncomrades be of good courage, for the time was come when they should be\ndelivered. And they thrust the stake of olive wood into the fire till\nit was ready, green as it was, to burst into flame, and they thrust it\ninto the monster's eye; for he had but one eye, and that in the midst\nof his forehead, with the eyebrow below it. And Ulysses leaned with\nall his force upon the stake and thrust it in with might and main. And\nthe burning wood hissed in the eye, just as the red-hot iron hisses in\nthe water when a man seeks to temper steel for a sword.\n\nThen the giant leapt up and tore away the stake and cried aloud, so\nthat all the Cyclopes who dwelt on the mountain side heard him and\ncame about his cave, asking him, \"What aileth thee, Polyphemus, that\nthou makest this uproar in the peaceful night, driving away sleep? Is\nany one robbing thee of thy sheep or seeking to slay thee by craft or\nforce?\"\n\nAnd the giant answered, \"No Man slays me by craft.\"\n\n\"Nay, but,\" they said, \"if no man does thee wrong, we cannot help\nthee. The sickness which great Zeus may send, who can avoid? Pray to\nour father, Poseidon, for help.\"\n\nThen they departed, and Ulysses was glad at heart for the good\nsuccess of his device when he said that he was No Man.\n\nBut the Cyclops rolled away the great stone from the door of the cave\nand sat in the midst, stretching out his hands to feel whether\nperchance the men within the cave would seek to go out among the\nsheep.\n\nLong did Ulysses think how he and his comrades should best escape. At\nlast he lighted upon a good device, and much he thanked Zeus for that\nthis once the giant had driven the rams with the other sheep into the\ncave. For, these being great and strong, he fastened his comrades\nunder the bellies of the beasts, tying them with osier twigs, of which\nthe giant made his bed. One ram he took and fastened a man beneath it,\nand two others he set, one on either side. So he did with the six, for\nbut six were left out of the twelve who had ventured with him from the\nship. And there was one mighty ram, far larger than all the others,\nand to this Ulysses clung, grasping the fleece tight with both his\nhands. So they waited for the morning. And when the morning came, the\nrams rushed forth to the pasture; but the giant sat in the door and\nfelt the back of each as it went by, nor thought to try what might be\nunderneath. Last of all went the great ram. And the Cyclops knew him\nas he passed and said:\n\n\"How is this, thou, who art the leader of the flock? Thou art not wont\nthus to lag behind. Thou hast always been the first to run to the\npastures and streams in the morning and the first to come back to the\nfold when evening fell; and now thou art last of all. Perhaps thou art\ntroubled about thy master's eye, which some wretch--No Man, they call\nhim--has destroyed, having first mastered me with wine. He has not\nescaped, I ween. I would that thou couldst speak and tell me where he\nis lurking. Of a truth I would dash out his brains upon the ground and\navenge me of this No Man.\"\n\nSo speaking, he let him pass out of the cave. But when they were out\nof reach of the giant, Ulysses loosed his hold of the ram and then\nunbound his comrades. And they hastened to their ship, not forgetting\nto drive before them a good store of the Cyclops' fat sheep. Right\nglad were those that had abode by the ship to see them. Nor did they\nlament for those that had died, though they were fain to do so, for\nUlysses forbade, fearing lest the noise of their weeping should betray\nthem to the giant, where they were. Then they all climbed into the\nship, and sitting well in order on the benches, smote the sea with\ntheir oars, laying-to right lustily, that they might the sooner get\naway from the accursed land. And when they had rowed a hundred yards\nor so, so that a man's voice could yet be heard by one who stood upon\nthe shore, Ulysses stood up in the ship and shouted:\n\n\"He was no coward, O Cyclops, whose comrades thou didst so foully slay\nin thy den. Justly art thou punished, monster, that devourest thy\nguests in thy dwelling. May the gods make thee suffer yet worse things\nthan these!\"\n\nThen the Cyclops in his wrath broke off the top of a great hill, a\nmighty rock, and hurled it where he had heard the voice. Right in\nfront of the ship's bow it fell, and a great wave rose as it sank, and\nwashed the ship back to the shore. But Ulysses seized a long pole with\nboth hands and pushed the ship from the land and bade his comrades ply\ntheir oars, nodding with his head, for he was too wise to speak, lest\nthe Cyclops should know where they were. Then they rowed with all\ntheir might and main.\n\nAnd when they had gotten twice as far as before, Ulysses made as if he\nwould speak again; but his comrades sought to hinder him, saying,\n\"Nay, my lord, anger not the giant any more. Surely we thought before\nwe were lost, when he threw the great rock and washed our ship back to\nthe shore. And if he hear thee now, he may crush our ship and us, for\nthe man throws a mighty bolt and throws it far.\"\n\nBut Ulysses would not be persuaded, but stood up and said, \"Hear,\nCyclops! If any man ask who blinded thee, say that it was the warrior\nUlysses, son of Laertes, dwelling in Ithaca.\"\n\nAnd the Cyclops answered with a groan, \"Of a truth, the old oracles\nare fulfilled, for long ago there came to this land one Telemus, a\nprophet, and dwelt among us even to old age. This man foretold me that\none Ulysses would rob me of my sight. But I looked for a great man and\na strong, who should subdue me by force, and now a weakling has done\nthe deed, having cheated me with wine. But come thou hither, Ulysses,\nand I will be a host indeed to thee. Or, at least, may Poseidon give\nthee such a voyage to thy home as I would wish thee to have. For know\nthat Poseidon is my sire. May be that he may heal me of my grievous\nwound.\"\n\nAnd Ulysses said, \"Would to God, I could send thee down to the abode\nof the dead, where thou wouldst be past all healing, even from\nPoseidon's self.\"\n\nThen Cyclops lifted up his hands to Poseidon and prayed:\n\n\"Hear me, Poseidon, if I am indeed thy son and thou my father. May\nthis Ulysses never reach his home! or, if the Fates have ordered that\nhe should reach it, may he come alone, all his comrades lost, and come\nto find sore trouble in his house!\"\n\nAnd as he ended he hurled another mighty rock, which almost lighted on\nthe rudder's end, yet missed it as if by a hair's breadth. So Ulysses\nand his comrades escaped and came to the island of the wild goats,\nwhere they found their comrades, who indeed had waited long for them,\nin sore fear lest they had perished. Then Ulysses divided among his\ncompany all the sheep which they had taken from the Cyclops. And all,\nwith one consent, gave him for his share the great ram which had\ncarried him out of the cave, and he sacrificed it to Zeus. And all\nthat day they feasted right merrily on the flesh of sheep and on sweet\nwine, and when the night was come, they lay down upon the shore and\nslept.\n\n\n\n\n\u0152DIPUS AND THE SPHINX\n\n\nIt befell in times past that the gods, being angry with the\ninhabitants of Thebes, sent into their land a very troublesome beast\nwhich men called the Sphinx. Now this beast had the face and breast of\na fair woman, but the feet and claws of a lion; and it was wont to ask\na riddle of such as encountered it, and such as answered not aright it\nwould tear and devour.\n\nWhen it had laid waste the land many days, there chanced to come to\nThebes one \u0152dipus, who had fled from the city of Corinth that he\nmight escape the doom which the gods had spoken against him. And the\nmen of the place told him of the Sphinx, how she cruelly devoured the\npeople, and that he who should deliver them from her should have the\nkingdom. So \u0152dipus, being very bold, and also ready of wit, went\nforth to meet the monster. And when she saw him she spake, saying:\n\n      \"Read me this riddle right, or die:\n      What liveth there beneath the sky,\n      Four-footed creature that doth choose\n      Now three feet and now twain to use,\n      And still more feebly o'er the plain\n      Walketh with three feet than with twain?\"\n\nAnd \u0152dipus made reply:\n\n      \"'Tis man, who in life's early day\n      Four-footed crawleth on his way;\n      When time hath made his strength complete,\n      Upright his form and twain his feet;\n      When age hath bound him to the ground\n      A third foot in his staff is found.\"\n\n[Illustration: \u0152DIPUS STOOD BEFORE THE SPHINX]\n\nAnd when the Sphinx found that her riddle was answered she cast\nherself from a high rock and perished.\n\nAs a reward \u0152dipus received the great kingdom of Thebes and the\nhand of the widowed queen Jocasta in marriage. Four children were born\nto them--two sons, Eteocles and Polynices, and two daughters, Antigone\nand Ismen\u00e9.\n\nNow the gods had decreed that \u0152dipus should murder his own father\nand marry his own mother, and by a curious chance this was precisely\nwhat he had done. As a baby he had been left to die lest he should\nlive to fulfil the doom, but had been rescued by an old shepherd and\nbrought up at the court of Corinth. Fleeing from there that he might\nnot murder him whom he believed to be his father, he had come to\nThebes, and on the way had met Laius, his true father, the king, and\nkilled him.\n\nWhile he remained ignorant of the facts \u0152dipus was very happy and\nreigned in great power and glory; but when pestilence fell upon the\nland and he discovered the truth of the almost forgotten oracle, he\nwas very miserable, and in the madness of grief put out his own eyes.\n\n\n\n\nANTIGONE, A FAITHFUL DAUGHTER AND SISTER\n\n\nJocasta, when she learned that \u0152dipus was really her son, was so\nfilled with horror and distress that she took her own life. But\nAntigone and Ismen\u00e9 were sorry for their father, whom they loved very\ndearly, and sought by every means they knew to render his suffering\nless.\n\nLonging to see again the land of Corinth which he had left seized the\nblind \u0152dipus, and like a beggar, staff in hand, he set out. Only\nAntigone accompanied him, guiding his step and striving daily to keep\nup his courage.\n\n[Illustration: THE BLIND \u0152DIPUS, LED BY HIS DAUGHTER ANTIGONE]\n\nAfter much wandering \u0152dipus was finally cast into prison. Then the\ntwo sons took possession of the kingdom, making agreement between\nthemselves that each should reign for the space of one year. And the\nelder of the two, whose name was Eteocles, first had the kingdom; but\nwhen his year was come to an end, he would not abide by his promise,\nbut kept that which he should have given up, and drove out his younger\nbrother from the city. Then the younger, whose name was Polynices,\nfled to Argos, to King Adrastus. And after a while he married the\ndaughter of the king, who made a covenant with him that he would bring\nhim back with a high hand to Thebes and set him on the throne of his\nfather. Then the king sent messengers to certain of the princes of\nGreece, entreating that they would help in this matter. And of these\nsome would not, but others hearkened to his words, so that a great\narmy was gathered together and followed the king and Polynices to make\nwar against Thebes. So they came and pitched their camp over against\nthe city. And after they had been there many days, the battle grew\nfierce about the wall. But the chiefest fight was between the two\nbrothers, for the two came together in an open space before the gates.\nAnd first Polynices prayed to Her\u00e9, for she was the goddess of the\ngreat city of Argos, which had helped him in this enterprise, and\nEteocles prayed to Pallas of the Golden Shield, whose temple stood\nhard by. Then they crouched, each covered with his shield and holding\nhis spear in his hand, if by chance his enemy should give occasion to\nsmite him; and if one showed so much as an eye above the rim of his\nshield the other would strike at him. But after a while King Eteocles\nslipped upon a stone that was under his foot, and uncovered his leg,\nat which straightway Polynices took aim with his spear, piercing the\nskin. But so doing he laid his own shoulder bare, and King Eteocles\ngave him a wound in the breast. He brake his spear in striking and\nwould have fared ill but that with a great stone he smote the spear of\nPolynices and brake this also in the middle. And now were the two\nequal, for each had lost his spear. So they drew their swords and came\nyet closer together. But Eteocles used a device which he had learnt in\nthe land of Thessaly; for he drew his left foot back, as if he would\nhave ceased from the battle, and then of a sudden moved the right\nforward; and so smiting sideways, drove his sword right through the\nbody of Polynices. But when, thinking that he had slain him, he set\nhis weapons in the earth and began to spoil him of his arms, the\nother, for he yet breathed a little, laid his hand upon his sword, and\nthough he had scarce strength to smite, yet gave the king a mortal\nblow, so that the two lay dead together on the plain. And the men of\nThebes lifted up the bodies of the dead and bare them both into the\ncity.\n\nWhen these two brothers, the sons of King \u0152dipus, had fallen each\nby the hand of the other, the kingdom fell to Creon, their uncle. For\nnot only was he the next of kin to the dead, but also the people held\nhim in great honor because his son Men\u0153ceus had offered himself\nwith a willing heart that he might deliver his city from captivity.\n\nNow when Creon was come to the throne he made a proclamation about the\ntwo princes, commanding that they should bury Eteocles with all honor,\nseeing that he died as beseemed a good man and a brave, doing battle\nfor his country, that it should not be delivered into the hands of the\nenemy; but as for Polynices, he bade them leave his body to be\ndevoured by the fowls of the air and the beasts of the field, because\nhe had joined himself to the enemy and would have beaten down the\nwalls of the city and burned the temples of the gods with fire and led\nthe people captive. Also he commanded that if any man should break\nthis decree he should suffer death by stoning.\n\nNow Antigone, who was sister to the two princes, heard that the decree\nhad gone forth, and chancing to meet her sister Ismen\u00e9 before the\ngates of the palace, spake to her, saying:\n\n\"O my sister, hast thou heard this decree that the king hath put forth\nconcerning our brethren that are dead?\"\n\nThen Ismen\u00e9 made answer: \"I have heard nothing, my sister, only that\nwe are bereaved of both of our brethren in one day and that the army\nof the Argives is departed in this night that is now past. So much I\nknow, but no more.\"\n\n\"Hearken then. King Creon hath made a proclamation that they shall\nbury Eteocles with all honor, but that Polynices shall lie unburied,\nthat the birds of the air and the beasts of the field may devour him,\nand that whosoever shall break this decree shall suffer death by\nstoning.\"\n\n\"But if it be so, my sister, how can we avail to change it?\"\n\n\"Think whether or no thou wilt share with me the doing of this deed.\"\n\n\"What deed? What meanest thou?\"\n\n\"To pay due honor to this dead body.\"\n\n\"What? Wilt thou bury him when the king hath forbidden it?\"\n\n\"Yes, for he is my brother and also thine, though perchance thou\nwouldst not have it so. And I will not play him false.\"\n\n\"O my sister, wilt thou do this when Creon hath forbidden it?\"\n\n\"Why should he stand between me and mine?\"\n\n\"But think now what sorrows are come upon our house. For our father\nperished miserably, having first put out his own eyes; and our mother\nhanged herself with her own hands; our two brothers fell in one day,\neach by the other's spear; and now we two only are left. And shall we\nnot fall into a worse destruction than any, if we transgress these\ncommands of the king? Think, too, that we are women and not men, and\nof necessity obey them that are stronger. Wherefore, as for me, I will\npray the dead to pardon me, seeing that I am thus constrained; but I\nwill obey them that rule.\"\n\n\"I advise thee not, and if thou thinkest thus, I would not have thee\nfor helper. But know that I will bury my brother, nor could I better\ndie than for doing such a deed. For as he loved me, so also do I love\nhim greatly. And shall not I do pleasure to the dead rather than to\nthe living, seeing that I shall abide with the dead for ever? But\nthou, if thou wilt do dishonor to the laws of the gods?\"\n\n\"I dishonor them not. Only I cannot set myself against the powers that\nbe.\"\n\n\"So be it; but I will bury my brother.\"\n\n\"O my sister, how I fear for thee!\"\n\n\"Fear for thyself. Thine own lot needeth all thy care.\"\n\n\"Thou wilt at least keep thy counsel, nor tell the thing to any man.\"\n\n\"Not so: hide it not. I shall scorn thee more if thou proclaim it not\naloud to all.\"\n\nSo Antigone departed; and after a while came to the same place King\nCreon, clad in his royal robes and with his scepter in his hand, and\nset forth his counsel to the elders who were assembled, how he had\ndealt with the two princes according to their deserving, giving all\nhonor to him that loved his country and casting forth the other\nunburied. And he bade them take care that this decree should be kept,\nsaying that he had also appointed certain men to watch the dead body.\n\nAnd he had scarcely left speaking when there came one of these same\nwatchers and said:\n\n\"I have not come hither in haste, O King; nay, I doubted much, while I\nwas yet on the way, whether I should not turn again. For now I\nthought, 'Fool, why goest thou where thou shalt suffer for it'; and\nthen, again, 'Fool, the king will hear the matter elsewhere, and then\nhow wilt thou fare?' But at the last I came as I had purposed, for I\nknow that nothing may happen to me contrary to fate.\"\n\n\"But say,\" said the king, \"what troubles thee so much?\"\n\n\"First hear my case. I did not the thing and know not who did it, and\nit were a grievous wrong should I fall into trouble for such a cause.\"\n\n\"Thou makest a long preface, excusing thyself, but yet hast, as I\njudge, something to tell.\"\n\n\"Fear, my lord, ever causeth delay.\"\n\n\"Wilt thou not speak out thy news and then begone?\"\n\n\"I will speak it. Know then that some man hath thrown dust upon this\ndead corpse, and done besides such things as are needful.\"\n\n\"What sayest thou? Who hath dared to do this deed?\"\n\n\"That I know not, for there was no mark as of spade or pick-axe; nor\nwas the earth broken, nor had wagon passed thereon. We were sore\ndismayed when the watchman showed the thing to us; for the body we\ncould not see. Buried indeed it was not, but rather covered with dust.\nNor was there any sign as of wild beast or of dog that had torn it.\nThen there arose a contention among us, each blaming the other, and\naccusing his fellows, and himself denying that he had done the deed or\nwas privy to it. And doubtless we had fallen to blows but that one\nspake a word which made us all tremble for fear, knowing that it must\nbe as he said. For he said that the thing must be told to thee, and in\nno wise hidden. So we drew lots, and by evil chance the lot fell upon\nme. Wherefore I am here, not willingly, for no man loveth him that\nbringeth evil tidings.\"\n\nThen said the chief of the old men:\n\n\"Consider, O King, for haply this thing is from the gods.\"\n\nBut the king cried:\n\n\"Thinkest thou that the gods care for such an one as this dead man,\nwho would have burnt their temples with fire, and laid waste the land\nwhich they love, and set at naught the laws? Not so. But there are men\nin this city who have long time had ill will to me, not bowing their\nnecks to my yoke; and they have persuaded these fellows with money to\ndo this thing. Surely there never was so evil a thing as money, which\nmaketh cities into ruinous heaps and banisheth men from their houses\nand turneth their thoughts from good unto evil. But as for them that\nhave done this deed for hire, of a truth they shall not escape, for I\nsay to thee, fellow, if ye bring not here before my eyes the man that\ndid this thing, I will hang you up alive. So shall ye learn that ill\ngains bring no profit to a man.\"\n\nSo the guard departed, but as he went he said to himself:\n\n\"Now may the gods grant that the man be found; but however this may\nbe, thou shalt not see me come again on such errand as this, for even\nnow have I escaped beyond all hope.\"\n\nNotwithstanding, after a space he came back with one of his fellows;\nand they brought with them the maiden Antigone, with her hands bound\ntogether.\n\nAnd it chanced that at the same time King Creon came forth from the\npalace. Then the guard set forth the thing to him, saying:\n\n\"We cleared away the dust from the dead body, and sat watching it. And\nwhen it was now noon, and the sun was at his height, there came a\nwhirlwind over the plain, driving a great cloud of dust. And when this\nhad passed, we looked, and lo! this maiden whom we have brought hither\nstood by the dead corpse. And when she saw that it lay bare as before,\nshe sent up an exceeding bitter cry, even as a bird whose young ones\nhave been taken from the nest. Then she cursed them that had done this\ndeed, and brought dust and sprinkled it upon the dead man, and poured\nwater upon him three times. Then we ran and laid hold upon her and\naccused her that she had done this deed; and she denied it not. But as\nfor me, 'tis well to have escaped from death, but it is ill to bring\nfriends into the same. Yet I hold that there is nothing dearer to a\nman than his life.\"\n\nThen said the king to Antigone:\n\n\"Tell me in a word, didst thou know my decree?\"\n\n\"I knew it. Was it not plainly declared?\"\n\n\"How daredst thou to transgress the laws?\"\n\n\"Zeus made not such laws, nor Justice that dwelleth with the gods\nbelow. I judged not that thy decrees had such authority that a man\nshould transgress for them the unwritten sure commandments of the\ngods. For these, indeed, are not of today or yesterday, but they live\nforever, and their beginning no man knoweth. Should I, for fear of\nthee, be found guilty against them? That I should die I knew. Why\nnot? All men must die. And if I die before my time, what loss? He who\nliveth among many sorrows even as I have lived, counteth it gain to\ndie. But had I left my own mother's son unburied, this had been loss\nindeed.\"\n\nThen said the king:\n\n\"Such stubborn thoughts have a speedy fall and are shivered even as\nthe iron that hath been made hard in the furnace. And as for this\nwoman and her sister--for I judge her sister to have had a part in\nthis matter--though they were nearer to me than all my kindred, yet\nshall they not escape the doom of death. Wherefore let some one bring\nthe other woman hither.\"\n\nAnd while they went to fetch the maiden Ismen\u00e9, Antigone said to the\nking:\n\n\"Is it not enough for thee to slay me? What need to say more? For thy\nwords please me not, nor mine thee. Yet what nobler thing could I have\ndone than to bury my mother's son? And so would all men say, but fear\nshutteth their mouths.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said the king, \"none of the children of Cadmus thinketh thus,\nbut thou only. But, hold, was not he that fell in battle with this man\nthy brother also?\"\n\n\"Yes, truly, my brother he was.\"\n\n\"And dost thou not dishonor him when thou honorest his enemy?\"\n\n\"The dead man would not say it, could he speak.\"\n\n\"Shall then the wicked have like honor with the good?\"\n\n\"How knowest thou but that such honor pleaseth the gods below?\"\n\n\"I have no love for them I hate, though they be dead.\"\n\n\"Of hating I know nothing; 'tis enough for me to love.\"\n\n\"If thou wilt love, go love the dead. But while I live no woman shall\nrule me.\"\n\nThen those that had been sent to fetch the maiden Ismen\u00e9 brought her\nforth from the palace. And when the king accused her that she had been\nprivy to the deed she denied not, but would have shared one lot with\nher sister.\n\nBut Antigone turned from her, saying:\n\n\"Not so; thou hast no part or lot in the matter. For thou hast chosen\nlife and I have chosen death; and even so shall it be.\"\n\nAnd when Ismen\u00e9 saw that she prevailed nothing with her sister, she\nturned to the king and said:\n\n\"Wilt thou slay the bride of thy son?\"\n\n\"Ay,\" said he, \"there are other brides to win!\"\n\n\"But none,\" she made reply, \"that accord so well with him.\"\n\n\"I will have no evil wives for my sons,\" said the king.\n\nThen cried Antigone:\n\n\"O H\u00e6mon, whom I love, how thy father wrongeth thee!\"\n\nThen the king bade the guards lead the two into the palace. But\nscarcely had they gone when there came to the place the Prince H\u00e6mon,\nthe king's son, who was betrothed to the maiden Antigone. And when the\nking saw him, he said:\n\n\"Art thou content, my son, with thy father's judgment?\"\n\nAnd the young man answered:\n\n\"My father, I would follow thy counsels in all things.\"\n\nThen said the king:\n\n\"'Tis well spoken, my son. This is a thing to be desired, that a man\nshould have obedient children. But if it be otherwise with a man, he\nhath gotten great trouble for himself and maketh sport for them that\nhate him. And now as to this matter. There is naught worse than an\nevil wife. Wherefore I say let this damsel wed a bridegroom among the\ndead. For since I have found her, alone of all this people, breaking\nmy decree, surely she shall die. Nor shall it profit her to claim\nkinship with me, for he that would rule a city must first deal justly\nwith his own kindred. And as for obedience, this it is that maketh a\ncity to stand both in peace and in war.\"\n\nTo this the Prince H\u00e6mon made answer:\n\n\"What thou sayest, my father, I do not judge. Yet bethink thee, that I\nsee and hear on thy behalf what is hidden from thee. For common men\ncannot abide thy look if they say that which pleaseth thee not. Yet do\nI hear it in secret. Know then that all the city mourneth for this\nmaiden, saying that she dieth wrongfully for a very noble deed, in\nthat she buried her brother. And 'tis well, my father, not to be\nwholly set on thy thoughts, but to listen to the counsels of others.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said the king; \"shall I be taught by such an one as thou?\"\n\n\"I pray thee regard my words, if they be well, and not my years.\"\n\n\"Can it be well to honor them that transgress? And hath not this woman\ntransgressed?\"\n\n\"The people of this city judge not so.\"\n\n\"The people, sayest thou? Is it for them to rule, or for me?\"\n\n\"No city is the possession of one man only.\"\n\nSo the two answered one the other, and their anger waxed hot. And at\nthe last the king cried:\n\n\"Bring this accursed woman and slay her before his eyes.\"\n\nAnd the prince answered:\n\n\"That thou shalt never do. And know this also, that thou shalt never\nsee my face again.\"\n\nSo he went away in a rage; and the old men would have appeased the\nking's wrath, but he would not hearken to them, but said that the two\nmaidens should die.\n\n\"Wilt thou then slay them both?\" said the old men.\n\n\"'Tis well said,\" the king made answer. \"Her that meddled not with the\nmatter, I harm not.\"\n\n\"And how wilt thou deal with the other?\"\n\n\"There is a desolate place, and there I will shut her up alive in a\nsepulchre; yet giving her so much of food as shall quit us of guilt in\nthe matter, for I would not have the city defiled. There let her\npersuade Death, whom she loveth so much, that he harm her not.\"\n\nSo the guards led Antigone away to shut her up alive in the sepulchre.\nBut scarcely had they departed when there came an old prophet\nTiresias, seeking the king. Blind he was, so that a boy led him by the\nhand; but the gods had given him to see things to come.\n\nAnd when the king saw him he asked:\n\n\"What seekest thou, wisest of men?\"\n\nThen the prophet answered:\n\n\"Hearken, O King, and I will tell thee. I sat in my seat, after my\ncustom, in the place whither all manner of birds resort. And as I sat\nI heard a cry of birds that I knew not, very strange and full of\nwrath. And I knew that they tare and slew each other, for I heard the\nfierce flapping of their wings. And being afraid, I made inquiry about\nthe fire, how it burned upon the altars. And this boy, for as I am a\nguide to others so he guideth me, told me that it shone not at all,\nbut smouldered and was dull, and that the flesh which was burnt upon\nthe altar spluttered in the flame and wasted away into corruption and\nfilthiness. And now I tell thee, O King, that the city is troubled by\nthy ill counsels. For the dogs and the birds of the air tear the flesh\nof this dead son of \u0152dipus, whom thou sufferest not to have due\nburial, and carry it to the altars, polluting them therewith.\nWherefore the gods receive not from us prayer or sacrifice, and the\ncry of the birds hath an evil sound, for they are full of the flesh of\na man. Therefore I bid thee be wise in time. For all men may err; but\nhe that keepeth not his folly, but repenteth, doeth well; but\nstubbornness cometh to great trouble.\"\n\nThen the king answered:\n\n\"Old man, I know the race of prophets full well, how ye sell your art\nfor gold. But make thy trade as thou wilt, this man shall not have\nburial; yea, though the eagles of Zeus carry his flesh to their\nmaster's throne in heaven, he shall not have it.\"\n\nAnd when the prophet spake again, entreating him and warning, the king\nanswered him after the same fashion, that he spake not honestly, but\nhad sold his art for money.\n\nBut at the last the prophet spake in great wrath, saying:\n\n\"Know, O King, that before many days shall pass thou shalt pay a life\nfor a life, even one of thine own children, for them with whom thou\nhast dealt unrighteously, shutting up the living with the dead and\nkeeping the dead from them to whom they belong. Therefore the Furies\nlie in wait for thee and thou shalt see whether or no I speak these\nthings for money. For there shall be mourning and lamentation in thine\nown house, and against thy people shall be stirred up many cities. And\nnow, my child, lead me home and let this man rage against them that\nare younger than I.\"\n\nSo the prophet departed and the old men were sore afraid and said:\n\n\"He hath spoken terrible things, O King; nor ever since these gray\nhairs were black have we known him say that which was false.\"\n\n\"Even so,\" said the king, \"and I am troubled in heart and yet am loath\nto depart from my purpose.\"\n\n\"King Creon,\" said the old men, \"thou needest good counsel.\"\n\n\"What, then, would ye have done?\"\n\n\"Set free the maiden from the sepulchre and give this dead man\nburial.\"\n\nThen the king cried to his people that they should bring bars\nwherewith to loosen the doors of the sepulchre, and hastened with them\nto the place. But coming on their way to the body of Prince Polynices,\nthey took it up and washed it, and buried that which remained of it,\nand raised over the ashes a great mound of earth. And this being done,\nthey drew near to the place of the sepulchre; and as they approached,\nthe king heard within a very piteous voice, and knew it for the voice\nof his son. Then he bade his attendants loose the door with all speed;\nand when they had loosed it, they beheld within a very piteous sight.\nFor the maiden Antigone had hanged herself by the girdle of linen\nwhich she wore, and the young man Prince H\u00e6mon stood with his arms\nabout her dead body, embracing it. And when the king saw him, he cried\nto him to come forth; but the prince glared fiercely upon him and\nanswered him not a word, but drew his two-edged sword. Then the king,\nthinking that his son was minded in his madness to slay him, leapt\nback, but the prince drove the sword into his own heart and fell\nforward on the earth, still holding the dead maiden in his arms. And\nwhen they brought the tidings of these things to Queen Eurydice, the\nwife of King Creon and mother to the prince, she could not endure the\ngrief, being thus bereaved of her children, but laid hold of a sword\nand slew herself therewith.\n\nSo the house of King Creon was left desolate unto him that day,\nbecause he despised the ordinances of the gods.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF IPHIGENIA\n\n\nKing Agamemnon sat in his tent at Aulis, where the army of the Greeks\nwas gathered together, being about to sail against the great city of\nTroy. And it was now past midnight; but the king slept not, for he was\ncareful and troubled about many things. And he had a lamp before him\nand in his hand a tablet of pine wood, whereon he wrote. But he seemed\nnot to remain in the same mind about that which he wrote; for now he\nwould blot out the letters, and then would write them again; and now\nhe fastened the seal upon the tablet and then brake it. And as he did\nthis he wept and was like to a man distracted. But after a while he\ncalled to an old man, his attendant (the man had been given in time\npast by Tyndareus to his daughter, Queen Clyt\u00e6mnestra) and said:\n\n\"Old man, thou knowest how Calchas the soothsayer bade me offer for a\nsacrifice to Artemis, who is goddess of this place, my daughter\nIphigenia, saying that so only should the army have a prosperous\nvoyage from this place to Troy, and should take the city and destroy\nit; and how when I heard these words I bade Talthybius the herald go\nthroughout the army and bid them depart, every man to his own country,\nfor that I would not do this thing; and how my brother, King Menela\u00fcs,\npersuaded me so that I consented to it. Now, therefore, hearken to\nthis, for what I am about to tell thee three men only know, namely,\nCalchas the soothsayer, and Menela\u00fcs, and Ulysses, king of Ithaca. I\nwrote a letter to my wife the queen, that she should send her daughter\nto this place, that she might be married to King Achilles; and I\nmagnified the man to her, saying that he would in no wise sail with us\nunless I would give him my daughter in marriage. But now I have\nchanged my purpose and have written another letter after this fashion,\nas I will now set forth to thee: '_Daughter of Leda, send not thy\nchild to the land of Eub\u0153a, for I will give her in marriage at\nanother time._'\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said the old man, \"but how wilt thou deal with King Achilles?\nWill he not be wroth, hearing that he hath been cheated of his wife?\"\n\n\"Not so,\" answered the king, \"for we have indeed used his name, but he\nknoweth nothing of this marriage. And now make haste. Sit not thou\ndown by any fountain in the woods, and suffer not thine eyes to sleep.\nAnd beware lest the chariot bearing the queen and her daughter pass\nthee where the roads divide. And see that thou keep the seal upon this\nletter unbroken.\"\n\nSo the old man departed with the letter. But scarcely had he left the\ntent when King Menela\u00fcs spied him and laid hands on him, taking the\nletter and breaking the seal. And the old man cried out:\n\n\"Help, my lord; here is one hath taken thy letter!\"\n\nThen King Agamemnon came forth from his tent, saying, \"What meaneth\nthis uproar and disputing that I hear?\"\n\nAnd Menela\u00fcs answered, \"Seest thou this letter that I hold in my\nhand?\"\n\n\"I see it: it is mine. Give it to me.\"\n\n\"I give it not till I have read that which is written therein to all\nthe army of the Greeks.\"\n\n\"Where didst thou find it?\"\n\n\"I found it while I waited for thy daughter till she should come to\nthe camp.\"\n\n\"What hast thou to do with that? May I not rule my own household?\"\n\nThen Menela\u00fcs reproached his brother because he did not continue in\none mind. \"For first,\" he said, \"before thou wast chosen captain of\nthe host, thou wast all things to all men, greeting every man\ncourteously, and taking him by the hand, and talking with him, and\nleaving thy doors open to any that would enter; but afterwards, being\nnow chosen, thou wast haughty and hard of access. And next, when this\ntrouble came upon the army, and thou wast sore afraid lest thou\nshouldst lose thy office and so miss renown, didst thou not hearken to\nCalchas the soothsayer, and promise thy daughter for sacrifice, and\nsend for her to the camp, making pretence of giving her in marriage to\nAchilles? And now thou art gone back from thy word. Surely this is an\nevil day for Greece, that is troubled because thou wantest wisdom.\"\n\nThen answered King Agamemnon: \"What is thy quarrel with me? Why\nblamest thou me if thou couldst not rule thy wife? And now to win back\nthis woman, because forsooth she is fair, thou castest aside both\nreason and honor. And I, if I had an ill purpose and now have changed\nit for that which is wiser, dost thou charge me with folly? Let them\nthat sware the oath to Tyndareus go with thee on this errand. Why\nshould I slay my child and work for myself sorrow and remorse without\nend that thou mayest have vengeance for thy wicked wife?\"\n\nThen Menela\u00fcs turned away in a rage, crying, \"Betray me if thou wilt.\nI will betake myself to other counsels and other friends.\"\n\nBut even as he spake there came a messenger, saying, \"King Agamemnon,\nI am come, as thou badest me, with thy daughter Iphigenia. Also her\nmother, Queen Clyt\u00e6mnestra, is come, bringing with her her little son\nOrestes. And now they are resting themselves and their horses by the\nside of a spring, for indeed the way is long and weary. And all the\narmy is gathered about them to see them and greet them. And men\nquestion much wherefore they are come, saying. 'Doth the king make a\nmarriage for his daughter; or hath he sent for her, desiring to see\nher?' But I know thy purpose, my lord; wherefore we will dance and\nshout and make merry, for this is a happy day for the maiden.\"\n\nBut the King Agamemnon was sore dismayed when he knew that the queen\nwas come, and spake to himself, \"Now what shall I say to my wife? For\nthat she is rightly come to the marriage of her daughter, who can\ndeny? But what will she say when she knoweth my purpose? And of the\nmaiden, what shall I say? Unhappy maiden whose bridegroom shall be\ndeath! For she will cry to me, 'Wilt thou kill me, my father?' And the\nlittle Orestes will wail, not knowing what he doeth, seeing he is but\na babe. Cursed be Paris, who hath wrought this woe!\"\n\nAnd now King Menela\u00fcs came back, saying that it repented him of what\nhe had said, \"For why should thy child die for me? What hath she to do\nwith Helen? Let the army be scattered, so that this wrong be not\ndone.\"\n\nThen said King Agamemnon, \"But how shall I escape from this strait?\nFor the whole host will compel me to this deed?\"\n\n\"Not so,\" said King Menela\u00fcs, \"if thou wilt send back the maiden to\nArgos.\"\n\n\"But what shall that profit,\" said the king; \"for Calchas will cause\nthe matter to be known, or Ulysses, saying that I have failed of my\npromise; and if I fly to Argos, they will come and destroy my city and\nlay waste my land. Woe is me! in what a strait am I set! But take thou\ncare, my brother, that Clyt\u00e6mnestra hear nothing of these things.\"\n\nAnd when he had ended speaking, the queen herself came unto the tent,\nriding in a chariot, having her daughter by her side. And she bade one\nof the attendants take out with care the caskets which she had brought\nfor her daughter, and bade others help her daughter to alight and\nherself also, and to a fourth she said that he should take the young\nOrestes. Then Iphigenia greeted her father, saying, \"Thou hast done\nwell to send for me, my father.\"\n\n\"'Tis true and yet not true, my child.\"\n\n\"Thou lookest not well pleased to see me, my father.\"\n\n\"He that is a king and commandeth a host hath many cares.\"\n\n\"Put away thy cares awhile and give thyself to me.\"\n\n\"I am glad beyond measure to see thee.\"\n\n\"Glad art thou? Then why dost thou weep?\"\n\n\"I weep because thou must be long time absent from me.\"\n\n\"Perish all these fightings and troubles!\"\n\n\"They will cause many to perish, and me most miserably of all.\"\n\n\"Art thou going a journey from me, my father?\"\n\n\"Aye, and thou also hast a journey to make.\"\n\n\"Must I make it alone, or with my mother?\"\n\n\"Alone; neither father nor mother may be with thee.\"\n\n\"Sendest thou me to dwell elsewhere?\"\n\n\"Hold thy peace: such things are not for maidens to inquire.\"\n\n\"Well, my father, order matters with the Phrygians and then make haste\nto return.\"\n\n\"I must first make a sacrifice to the gods.\"\n\n\"'Tis well. The gods should have due honor.\"\n\n\"Aye, and thou wilt stand close to the altar.\"\n\n\"Shall I lead the dances, my father?\"\n\n\"O my child, how I envy thee, that thou knowest naught! And now go\ninto the tent; but first kiss me and give me thy hand, for thou shalt\nbe parted from thy father for many days.\"\n\nAnd when she was gone within, he cried, \"O fair bosom and very lovely\ncheeks and yellow hair of my child! O city of Priam, what woe thou\nbringest on me! But I must say no more.\"\n\nThen he turned to the queen and excused himself that he wept when he\nshould rather have rejoiced for the marriage of his daughter. And when\nthe queen would know of the estate of the bridegroom he told her that\nhis name was Achilles and that he was the son of Peleus by his wife\nThetis, the daughter of Nereus of the sea, and that he dwelt in\nPhthia. And when she inquired of the time of the marriage, he said\nthat it should be in the same moon, on the first lucky day; and as to\nthe place, that it must be where the bridegroom was sojourning, that\nis to say, in the camp. \"And I,\" said the king, \"will give the maiden\nto her husband.\"\n\n\"But where,\" answered the queen, \"is it your pleasure that I should\nbe?\"\n\n\"Thou must return to Argos and care for the maidens there.\"\n\n\"Sayest thou that I must return? Who then will hold up the torch for\nthe bride?\"\n\n\"I will do that which is needful. For it is not seemly that thou\nshouldst be present where the whole army is gathered together.\"\n\n\"Aye, but it is seemly that a mother should give her daughter in\nmarriage.\"\n\n\"But the maidens at home should not be left alone.\"\n\n\"They are well kept in their chambers.\"\n\n\"Be persuaded, lady.\"\n\n\"Not so: thou shalt order that which is without the house, but I that\nwhich is within.\"\n\nBut now came Achilles to tell the king that the army was growing\nimpatient, saying that unless they might sail speedily to Troy they\nwould return each man to his home. And when the queen heard his\nname--for he had said to the attendant, \"Tell thy master that\nAchilles, the son of Peleus, would speak with him\"--she came forth\nfrom the tent and greeted him and bade him give her his right hand.\nAnd when the young man was ashamed (for it was not counted a seemly\nthing that men should speak with women) she said:\n\n\"But why art thou ashamed, seeing that thou art about to marry my\ndaughter?\"\n\nAnd he answered, \"What sayest thou, lady? I cannot speak for wonder at\nthy words.\"\n\n\"Often men are ashamed when they see new friends and the talk is of\nmarriage.\"\n\n\"But, lady, I never was suitor for thy daughter. Nor have the sons of\nAtreus said aught to me of the matter.\"\n\nBut the queen was beyond measure astonished, and cried, \"Now this is\nshameful indeed, that I should seek a bridegroom for my daughter in\nsuch fashion.\"\n\nBut when Achilles would have departed, to inquire of the king what\nthis thing might mean, the old man that had at the first carried the\nletter came forth and bade him stay. And when he had assurance that he\nshould receive no harm for what he should tell them, he unfolded the\nwhole matter. And when the queen had heard it, she cried to Achilles,\n\"O son of Thetis of the sea! help me now in this strait and help this\nmaiden that hath been called thy bride, though this indeed be false.\n'Twill be a shame to thee if such wrong be done under thy name; for it\nis thy name that hath undone us. Nor have I any altar to which I may\nflee, nor any friend but thee only in this army.\"\n\nThen Achilles made answer, \"Lady, I learnt from Chiron, who was the\nmost righteous of men, to be true and honest. And if the sons of\nAtreus govern according to right, I obey them; and if not, not. Know,\nthen, that thy daughter, seeing that she hath been given, though but\nin word only, to me, shall not be slain by her father. For if she so\ndie, then shall my name be brought to great dishonor, seeing that\nthrough it thou hast been persuaded to come with her to this place.\nThis sword shall see right soon whether any one will dare to take this\nmaiden from me.\"\n\nAnd now King Agamemnon came forth, saying that all things were ready\nfor the marriage, and that they waited for the maiden, not knowing\nthat the whole matter had been revealed to the queen. Then she said:\n\n\"Tell me now, dost thou purpose to slay thy daughter and mine?\" And\nwhen he was silent, not knowing, indeed, what to say, she reproached\nhim with many words, that she had been a loving and faithful wife to\nhim, for which he made her an ill recompense slaying her child.\n\nAnd when she had made an end of speaking, the maiden came forth from\nthe tent, holding the young child Orestes in her arms, and cast\nherself upon her knees before her father and besought him, saying, \"I\nwould, my father, that I had the voice of Orpheus, who made even the\nrocks to follow him, that I might persuade thee; but now all that I\nhave I give, even these tears. O my father, I am thy child; slay me\nnot before my time. This light is sweet to look upon. Drive me not\nfrom it to the land of darkness. I was the first to call thee father;\nand the first to whom thou didst say 'my child.' And thou wouldst say\nto me, 'Some day, my child, I shall see thee a happy wife in the home\nof a good husband.' And I would answer, 'And I will receive thee with\nall love when thou art old, and pay thee back for all the benefits\nthou hast done unto me.' This I indeed remember, but thou forgettest;\nfor thou art ready to slay me. Do it not, I beseech thee, by Pelops\nthy grandsire, and Atreus thy father, and this my mother, who\ntravailed in childbirth of me and now travaileth again in her sorrow.\nAnd thou, O my brother, though thou art but a babe, help me. Weep\nwith me; beseech thy father that he slay not thy sister. O my father,\nthough he be silent, yet, indeed, he beseecheth thee. For his sake,\ntherefore, yea, and for mine own, have pity upon me and slay me not.\"\n\nBut the king was sore distracted, knowing not what he should say or\ndo, for a terrible necessity was upon him, seeing that the army could\nnot make their journey to Troy unless this deed should first be done.\nAnd while he doubted came Achilles, saying that there was a horrible\ntumult in the camp, the men crying out that the maiden must be\nsacrificed, and that when he would have stayed them from their\npurpose, the people had stoned him with stones, and that his own\nMyrmidons helped him not, but rather were the first to assail him.\nNevertheless, he said that he would fight for the maiden, even to the\nutmost, and that there were faithful men who would stand with him and\nhelp him. But when the maiden heard these words, she stood forth and\nsaid, \"Hearken to me, my mother. Be not wroth with my father, for we\ncannot fight against fate. Also we must take thought that this young\nman suffer not, for his help will avail naught and he himself will\nperish. Therefore I am resolved to die; for all Greece looketh to me;\nfor without me the ships cannot make their voyage, nor the city of\nTroy be taken. Thou didst bear me, my mother, not for thyself only,\nbut for this whole people. Wherefore I will give myself for them.\nOffer me for an offering, and let the Greeks take the city of Troy,\nfor this shall be my memorial forever.\"\n\nThen said Achilles, \"Lady, I should count myself most happy if the\ngods would grant thee to be my wife. For I love thee well when I see\nhow noble thou art. And if thou wilt, I will carry thee to my home.\nAnd I doubt not that I shall save thee, though all the men of Greece\nbe against me.\"\n\nBut the maiden answered, \"What I say, I say with full purpose. Nor\nwill I that any man should die for me, but rather will I save this\nland of Greece.\"\n\nAnd Achilles said, \"If this be thy will, lady, I cannot say nay, for\nit is a noble thing that thou doest.\"\n\nNor was the maiden turned from her purpose though her mother besought\nher with many tears. So they that were appointed led her to the grove\nof Artemis, where there was built an altar, and the whole army of the\nGreeks gathered about it. But when the king saw her going to her death\nhe covered his face with his mantle; but she stood by him, and said,\n\"I give my body with a willing heart to die for my country and for the\nwhole land of Greece. I pray the gods that ye may prosper and win the\nvictory in this war and come back safe to your homes. And now let no\nman touch me, for I will die with a good heart.\"\n\nAnd all men marveled to see the maiden of what a good courage she was.\nAnd all the army stood regarding the maiden and the priest and the\naltar.\n\nThen there befell a marvelous thing. For suddenly the maiden was not\nthere. Whither she had gone no one knew; but in her stead there lay\ngasping a great hind, and all the altar was red with the blood\nthereof.\n\nAnd Calchas said, \"See ye this, men of Greece, how the goddess hath\nprovided this offering in the place of the maiden, for she would not\nthat her altar should be defiled with innocent blood. Be of good\ncourage, therefore, and depart every man to his ship, for this day ye\nshall sail across the sea to the land of Troy.\"\n\nThen the goddess carried away the maiden to the land of the Taurians,\nwhere she had a temple and an altar. Now on this altar the king of the\nland was wont to sacrifice any stranger, being Greek by nation, who\nwas driven by stress of weather to the place, for none went thither\nwillingly. And the name of the king was Thoas, which signifieth in\nthe Greek tongue, \"swift of foot.\"\n\n[Illustration: IPHIGENIA ABOUT TO BE SACRIFICED]\n\nNow when the maiden had been there many years she dreamed a dream. And\nin the dream she seemed to have departed from the land of the Taurians\nand to dwell in the city of Argos, wherein she had been born. And as\nshe slept in the women's chamber there befell a great earthquake, and\ncast to the ground the palace of her fathers, so that there was left\none pillar only which stood upright. And as she looked on this pillar,\nyellow hair seemed to grow upon it as the hair of a man, and it spake\nwith a man's voice. And she did to it as she was wont to do to the\nstrangers that were sacrificed upon the altar, purifying it with water\nand weeping the while. And the interpretation of the dream she judged\nto be that her brother Orestes was dead, for that male children are\nthe pillars of a house, and that she only was left to the house of her\nfather.\n\nNow it chanced that at this same time Orestes, with Pylades that was\nhis friend, came in a ship to the land of the Taurians. And the cause\nof his coming was this. After that he had slain his mother, taking\nvengeance for the death of King Agamemnon his father, the Furies\npursued him. Then Apollo, who had commanded him to do this deed, bade\nhim go to the land of Athens that he might be judged. And when he had\nbeen judged and loosed, yet the Furies left him not. Wherefore Apollo\ncommanded that he should sail for the land of the Taurians and carry\nthence the image of Artemis and bring it to the land of the Athenians,\nand that after this he should have rest. Now when the two were come to\nthe place, they saw the altar that it was red with the blood of them\nthat had been slain thereon. And Orestes doubted how they might\naccomplish the things for the which he was come, for the walls of the\ntemple were high and the gates not easy to be broken through.\nTherefore he would have fled to the ship, but Pylades consented not,\nseeing that they were not wont to go back from that to which they had\nset their hand, but counseled that they should hide themselves during\nthe day in a cave that was hard by the seashore, not near to the ship,\nlest search should be made for them, and that by night they should\ncreep into the temple by a space that there was between the pillars,\nand carry off the image, and so depart.\n\nSo they hid themselves in a cavern by the sea. But it chanced that\ncertain herdsmen were feeding their oxen in pastures hard by the\nshore; one of these, coming near to the cavern, spied the young men as\nthey sat therein, and stealing back to his fellows, said, \"See ye not\nthem that sit yonder. Surely they are gods;\" for they were exceeding\ntall and fair to look upon. And some began to pray to them, thinking\nthat they might be the Twin Brethren or of the sons of Nereus. But\nanother laughed and said, \"Not so; these are shipwrecked men who hide\nthemselves, knowing that it is our custom to sacrifice strangers to\nour gods.\" To him the others gave consent and said that they should\ntake the men prisoners that they might be sacrificed to the gods.\n\nBut while they delayed, Orestes ran forth from the cave, for the\nmadness was come upon him, crying out, \"Pylades, seest thou not that\ndragon from hell; and that who would kill me with the serpents of her\nmouth, and this again that breatheth out fire, holding my mother in\nher arms to cast her upon me?\" And first he bellowed as a bull and\nthen howled as a dog, for the Furies, he said, did so. But the\nherdsmen, when they saw this, gathered together in great fear and sat\ndown. But when Orestes drew his sword and leapt, as a lion might leap,\ninto the midst of the herd, slaying the beasts (for he thought in his\nmadness that he was contending with the Furies), then the herdsmen,\nblowing on shells, called to the people of the land; for they feared\nthe young men, so strong they seemed and valiant. And when no small\nnumber was gathered together, they began to cast stones and javelins\nat the two. And now the madness of Orestes began to abate, and Pylades\ntended him carefully, wiping away the foam from his mouth and holding\nhis garments before him that he should not be wounded by the stones.\nBut when Orestes came to himself and beheld in what straits they were,\nhe groaned aloud and cried, \"We must die, O Pylades, only let us die\nas befitteth brave men. Draw thy sword and follow me.\" And the people\nof the land dared not to stand before them; yet while some fled,\nothers would cast stones at them. For all that no man wounded them.\nBut at the last, coming about them with a great multitude, they smote\nthe swords out of their hands with stones, and so bound them and took\nthem to King Thoas. And the king commanded that they should be taken\nto the temple, that the priestess might deal with them according to\nthe custom of the place.\n\nSo they brought the young men bound to the temple. Now the name of the\none they knew, for they had heard his companion call to him, but the\nname of the other they knew not. And when Iphigenia saw them, she bade\nthe people loose their bonds, for that being holy to the goddess they\nwere free. And then--for she took the two for brothers--she asked\nthem, saying, \"Who is your mother and your father and your sister, if\na sister you have? She will be bereaved of noble brothers this day.\nAnd whence come ye?\"\n\nTo her Orestes answered, \"What meanest thou, lady, by lamenting in\nthis fashion over us? I hold it folly in him who must die that he\nshould bemoan himself. Pity us not; we know what manner of sacrifices\nye have in this land.\"\n\n\"Tell me now, which of ye two is called Pylades?\"\n\n\"Not I, but this my companion.\"\n\n\"Of what city in the land of Greece are ye? And are ye brothers born\nof one mother?\"\n\n\"Brothers we are, but in friendship, not in blood.\"\n\n\"And what is thy name?\"\n\n\"That I tell thee not. Thou hast power over my body, but not over my\nname.\"\n\n\"Wilt thou not tell me thy country?\"\n\nAnd when he told her that his country was Argos, she asked him many\nthings, as about Troy, and Helen, and Calchas the prophet, and\nUlysses; and at last she said, \"And Achilles, son of Thetis of the\nsea, is he yet alive?\"\n\n\"He is dead and his marriage that was made at Aulis is of no effect.\"\n\n\"A false marriage it was, as some know full well.\"\n\n\"Who art thou that inquirest thus about matters in Greece?\"\n\n\"I am of the land of Greece and was brought thence yet being a child.\nBut there was a certain Agamemnon, son of Atreus; what of him?\"\n\n\"I know not. Lady, leave all talk of him.\"\n\n\"Say not so; but do me a pleasure and tell me.\"\n\n\"He is dead.\"\n\n\"Woe is me! How died he?\"\n\n\"What meaneth thy sorrow? Art thou of his kindred?\"\n\n\"'Tis a pity to think how great he was, and now he hath perished.\"\n\n\"He was slain in a most miserable fashion by a woman, but ask no\nmore.\"\n\n\"Only this one thing. Is his wife yet alive?\"\n\n\"Nay; for the son whom she bare slew her, taking vengeance for his\nfather.\"\n\n\"A dreadful deed, but righteous withal.\"\n\n\"Righteous indeed he is, but the gods love him not.\"\n\n\"And did the king leave any other child behind him?\"\n\n\"One daughter, Electra by name.\"\n\n\"And is his son yet alive?\"\n\n\"He is alive, but no man more miserable.\"\n\nNow when Iphigenia heard that he was alive and knew that she had been\ndeceived by the dreams which she had dreamt, she conceived a thought\nin her heart and said to Orestes, \"Hearken now, for I have somewhat to\nsay to thee that shall bring profit both to thee and to me. Wilt thou,\nif I save thee from this death, carry tidings of me to Argos to my\nfriends and bear a tablet from me to them? For such a tablet I have\nwith me, which one who was brought captive to this place wrote for me,\npitying me, for he knew that I caused not his death, but the law of\nthe goddess in this place. Nor have I yet found a man who should carry\nthis thing to Argos. But thou, I judge, art of noble birth and knowest\nthe city and those with whom I would have communication. Take then\nthis tablet and thy life as a reward, and let this man be sacrificed\nto the goddess.\"\n\nThen Orestes made answer, \"Thou hast said well, lady, save in one\nthing only. That this man should be sacrificed in my stead pleaseth me\nnot at all. For I am he that brought this voyage to pass; and this man\ncame with me that he might help me in my troubles. Wherefore it would\nbe a grievous wrong that he should suffer in my stead and I escape.\nGive then the tablet to him. He shall take it to the city of Argos and\nthou shalt have what thou wilt. But as for me, let them slay me if\nthey will.\"\n\n\"'Tis well spoken, young man. Thou art come, I know, of a noble stock.\nThe gods grant that my brother--for I have a brother, though he be far\nhence--may be such as thou. It shall be as thou wilt. This man shall\ndepart with the tablet and thou shalt die.\"\n\nThen Orestes would know the manner of the death by which he must die.\nAnd she told him that she slew not the victims with her own hand, but\nthat there were ministers in the temple appointed to this office, she\npreparing them for sacrifice beforehand. Also she said that his body\nwould be burned with fire.\n\nAnd when Orestes had wished that the hand of his sister might pay due\nhonor to him in his death, she said, \"This may not be, for she is far\naway from this strange land. But yet, seeing that thou art a man of\nArgos, I myself will adorn thy tomb and pour oil of olives and honey\non thy ashes.\" Then she departed, that she might fetch the tablet from\nher dwelling, bidding the attendants keep the young men fast, but\nwithout bonds.\n\nBut when she was gone, Orestes said to Pylades, \"Pylades, what\nthinkest thou? Who is this maiden? She had great knowledge of things\nin Troy and Argos, and of Calchas the wise soothsayer, and of Achilles\nand the rest. And she made lamentation over King Agamemnon. She must\nbe of Argos.\"\n\nAnd Pylades answered, \"This I cannot say; all men have knowledge of\nwhat befell the king. But hearken to this. It were shame to me to live\nif thou diest. I sailed with thee and will die with thee. For\notherwise men will account lightly of me both in Argos and in Phocis,\nwhich is my own land, thinking that I betrayed thee or basely slew\nthee, that I might have thy kingdom, marrying thy sister, who shall\ninherit it in thy stead. Not so: I will die with thee and my body\nshall be burnt together with thine.\"\n\nBut Orestes answered, \"I must bear my own troubles. This indeed would\nbe a shameful thing, that when thou seekest to help me I should\ndestroy thee. But as for me, seeing how the gods deal with me, it is\nwell that I should die. Thou, indeed, art happy, and thy house is\nblessed; but my house is accursed. Go, therefore, and my sister, whom\nI have given thee to wife, shall bear thee children, and the house of\nmy father shall not perish. And I charge thee that when thou art safe\nreturned to the city of Argos, thou do these things. First, thou shalt\nbuild a tomb for me, and my sister shall make an offering there of her\nhair and of her tears also. And tell her that I died, slain by a woman\nof Argos that offered me as an offering to her gods; and I charge thee\nthat thou leave not my sister, but be faithful to her. And now\nfarewell, true friend and companion in my toils; for indeed I die, and\nPh\u0153bus hath lied unto me, prophesying falsely.\"\n\nAnd Pylades swore to him that he would build him a tomb and be a true\nhusband to his sister. After this Iphigenia came forth, holding a\ntablet in her hand. And she said, \"Here is the tablet of which I\nspake. But I fear lest he to whom I shall give it shall haply take no\naccount of it when he is returned to the land. Therefore I would fain\nbind him with an oath that he will deliver it to them that should have\nit in the city of Argos.\" And Orestes consented, saying that she also\nshould bind herself with an oath that she would deliver one of the two\nfrom death. So she sware by Artemis that she would persuade the king,\nand deliver Pylades from death. And Pylades sware on his part by Zeus,\nthe father of heaven, that he would give the tablet to those whom it\nshould concern. And having sworn it, he said, \"But what if a storm\novertake me and the tablet be lost and I only be saved?\"\n\n\"I will tell thee what hath been written in the tablet; and if it\nperish, thou shalt tell them again; but if not, then thou shalt give\nit as I bid thee.\"\n\n\"And to whom shall I give it?\"\n\n\"Thou shalt give it to Orestes, son of Agamemnon. And that which is\nwritten therein is this: '_I that was sacrificed in Aulis, even\nIphigenia, who am alive and yet dead to my own people, bid thee----_'\"\n\nBut when Orestes heard this, he brake in, \"Where is this Iphigenia?\nHath the dead come back among the living?\"\n\n\"Thou seest her in me. But interrupt me not. '_I bid thee fetch me\nbefore I die to Argos from a strange land, taking me from the altar\nthat is red with the blood of strangers, whereat I serve._' And if\nOrestes ask by what means I am alive, thou shalt say that Artemis put\na hind in my stead, and that the priest, thinking that he smote me\nwith the knife, slew the beast, and that the goddess brought me to\nthis land.\"\n\nThen said Pylades, \"My oath is easy to keep. Orestes, take thou this\ntablet from thy sister.\"\n\nThen Orestes embraced his sister, crying--for she turned from him, not\nknowing what she should think--\"O my sister, turn not from me; for I\nam thy brother whom thou didst not think to see.\"\n\nAnd when she yet doubted, he told her of certain things by which she\nmight know him to be Orestes--how that she had woven a tapestry\nwherein was set forth the strife between Atreus and Thyestes\nconcerning the golden lamb; and that she had given a lock of her hair\nat Aulis to be a memorial of her; and that there was laid in her\nchamber at Argos the ancient spear of Pelops, her father's grandsire,\nwith which he slew \u0152noma\u00fcs and won Hippodamia to be his wife.\n\nAnd when she heard this, she knew that he was indeed Orestes, whom,\nbeing an infant and the latest born of his mother, she had in time\npast held in her arms. But when the two had talked together for a\nspace, rejoicing over each other and telling the things that had\nbefallen them, Pylades said, \"Greetings of friends after long parting\nare well; but we must needs consider how best we shall escape from\nthis land of the barbarians.\"\n\nBut Iphigenia answered, \"Yet nothing shall hinder me from knowing how\nfareth my sister Electra.\"\n\n\"She is married,\" said Orestes, \"to this Pylades, whom thou seest.\"\n\n\"And of what country is he and who is his father?\"\n\n\"His father is Strophius the Phocian; and he is a kinsman, for his\nmother was the daughter of Atreus and a friend also such as none other\nis to me.\"\n\nThen Orestes set forth to his sister the cause of his coming to the\nland of the Taurians. And he said, \"Now help me in this, my sister,\nthat we may bear away the image of the goddess; for so doing I shall\nbe quit of my madness, and thou wilt be brought to thy native country\nand the house of thy father shall prosper. But if we do it not, then\nshall we perish altogether.\"\n\nAnd Iphigenia doubted much how this thing might be done. But at the\nlast she said, \"I have a device whereby I shall compass the matter. I\nwill say that thou art come hither, having murdered thy mother, and\nthat thou canst not be offered for a sacrifice till thou art purified\nwith the water of the sea. Also that thou hast touched the image, and\nthat this also must be purified in like manner. And the image I myself\nwill bear to the sea; for, indeed, I only may touch it with my hands.\nAnd of this Pylades also I will say that he is polluted in like manner\nwith thee. So shall we three win our way to the ship. And that this be\nready it will be thy care to provide.\"\n\nAnd when she had so said, she prayed to Artemis: \"Great goddess, that\ndidst bring me safe in days past from Aulis, bring me now also, and\nthese that are with me, safe to the land of Greece, so that men may\ncount thy brother Apollo to be a true prophet. Nor shouldst thou be\nunwilling to depart from this barbarous land and to dwell in the fair\ncity of Athens.\"\n\nAfter this came King Thoas, inquiring whether they had offered the\nstrangers for sacrifice and had duly burnt their bodies with fire. To\nhim Iphigenia made answer, \"These were unclean sacrifices that thou\nbroughtest to me, O King.\"\n\n\"How didst thou learn this?\"\n\n\"The image of the goddess turned upon her place of her own accord and\ncovered also her face with her hands.\"\n\n\"What wickedness, then, had these strangers wrought?\"\n\n\"They slew their mother and had been banished therefor from the land\nof Greece.\"\n\n\"O monstrous! Such deeds we barbarians never do. And now what dost\nthou purpose?\"\n\n\"We must purify these strangers before we offer them for a sacrifice.\"\n\n\"With water from the river, or in the sea?\"\n\n\"In the sea. The sea cleanseth away all that is evil among men.\"\n\n\"Well, thou hast it here, by the very walls of the temple.\"\n\n\"Aye, but I must seek a place apart from men.\"\n\n\"So be it; go where thou wilt; I would not look on things forbidden.\"\n\n\"The image also must be purified.\"\n\n\"Surely, if the pollution from these murderers of their mother hath\ntouched it. This is well thought of in thee.\"\n\nThen she instructed the king that he should bring the strangers out of\nthe temple, having first bound them and veiled their heads. Also that\ncertain of his guards should go with her, but that all the people of\nthe city should be straitly commanded to stay within doors, that so\nthey might not be defiled; and that he himself should abide in the\ntemple and purify it with fire, covering his head with his garments\nwhen the strangers should pass by. \"And be not troubled,\" she said,\n\"if I seem to be long doing these things.\"\n\n\"Take what time thou wilt,\" he said, \"so that thou do all things in\norder.\"\n\nSo certain of the king's guards brought the two young men from out of\nthe temple, and Iphigenia led them towards the place where the ship\nof Orestes lay at anchor. But when they were come near to the shore,\nshe bade them halt nor come over-near, for that she had that to do in\nwhich they must have no part. And she took the chain wherewith the\nyoung men were bound in her hands and set up a strange song as of one\nthat sought enchantments. And after that the guards sat where she bade\nthem for a long time, they began to fear lest the strangers should\nhave slain the priestess and so fled. Yet they moved not, fearing to\nsee that which was forbidden. But at the last with one consent they\nrose up. And when they were come to the sea, they saw the ship trimmed\nto set forth, and fifty sailors on the benches having oars in their\nhands ready for rowing; and the two young men were standing unbound\nupon the shore near to the stern. And other sailors were dragging the\nship by the cable to the shore that the young men might embark. Then\nthe guards laid hold of the rudder and sought to take it from its\nplace, crying, \"Who are ye that carry away priestesses and the images\nof our gods?\" Then Orestes said, \"I am Orestes, and I carry away my\nsister.\" But the guards laid hold of Iphigenia; and when the sailors\nsaw this they leapt from the ship; and neither the one nor the other\nhad swords in their hands, but they fought with their fists and their\nfeet also. And as the sailors were strong and skilful, the king's men\nwere driven back sorely bruised and wounded. And when they fled to a\nbank that was hard by and cast stones at the ship, the archers\nstanding on the stern shot at them with arrows. Then--for his sister\nfeared to come farther--Orestes leapt into the sea and raised her upon\nhis shoulder and so lifted her into the ship, and the image of the\ngoddess with her. And Pylades cried, \"Lay hold of your oars, ye\nsailors, and smite the sea, for we have that for the which we came to\nthis land.\" So the sailors rowed with all their might; and while the\nship was in the harbor it went well with them, but when it was come\nto the open sea a great wave took it, for a violent wind blew against\nit and drove it backwards to the shore.\n\nAnd one of the guards when he saw this ran to King Thoas and told him,\nand the king made haste and sent messengers mounted upon horses, to\ncall the men of the land that they might do battle with Orestes and\nhis comrade. But while he was yet sending them, there appeared in the\nair above his head the goddess Athene, who spake, saying, \"Cease, King\nThoas, from pursuing this man and his companions; for he hath come\nhither on this errand by the command of Apollo; and I have persuaded\nPoseidon that he make the sea smooth for him to depart.\"\n\nAnd King Thoas answered, \"It shall be as thou wilt, O goddess; and\nthough Orestes hath borne away his sister and the image, I dismiss my\nanger, for who can fight against the gods?\"\n\nSo Orestes departed and came to his own country and dwelt in peace,\nbeing set free from his madness, according to the word of Apollo.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SACK OF TROY\n\n[Illustration: THE TROJAN HORSE]\n\n\nFor ten years King Agamemnon and the men of Greece laid siege to Troy.\nBut though sentence had gone forth against the city, yet the day of\nits fall tarried, because certain of the gods loved it well and\ndefended it, as Apollo and Mars, the god of war, and Father Jupiter\nhimself. Wherefore Minerva put it into the heart of Epeius, Lord of\nthe Isles, that he should make a cunning device wherewith to take the\ncity. Now the device was this: he made a great horse of wood, feigning\nit to be a peace-offering to Minerva, that the Greeks might have a\nsafe return to their homes. In the belly of this there hid themselves\ncertain of the bravest of the chiefs, as Menela\u00fcs, and Ulysses, and\nThoas the \u00c6tolian, and Machaon the great physician, and Pyrrhus, son\nof Achilles (but Achilles himself was dead, slain by Paris, Apollo\nhelping, even as he was about to take the city), and others also, and\nwith them Epeius himself. But the rest of the people made as if they\nhad departed to their homes; only they went not further than Tenedos,\nwhich was an island near to the coast.\n\nGreat joy was there in Troy when it was noised abroad that the men of\nGreece had departed. The gates were opened, and the people went forth\nto see the plain and the camp. And one said to another as they went,\n\"Here they set the battle in array, and there were the tents of the\nfierce Achilles, and there lay the ships.\" And some stood and marveled\nat the great peace-offering to Minerva, even the horse of wood. And\nThym\u0153tes, who was one of the elders of the city, was the first who\nadvised that it should be brought within the walls and set in the\ncitadel. Now whether he gave this counsel out of a false heart or\nbecause the gods would have it so, no man knows. But Capys, and others\nwith him, said that it should be drowned in water or burned with fire,\nor that men should pierce it and see whether there were aught within.\nAnd the people were divided, some crying one thing and some another.\nThen came forward the priest Laoco\u00f6n, and a great company with him,\ncrying, \"What madness is this? Think ye that the men of Greece are\nindeed departed or that there is any profit in their gifts? Surely\nthere are armed men in this mighty horse; or haply they have made it\nthat they may look down upon our walls. Touch it not, for as for these\nmen of Greece, I fear them, even though they bring gifts in their\nhands.\"\n\nAnd as he spake he cast his great spear at the horse, so that it\nsounded again. But the gods would not that Troy should be saved.\n\nMeanwhile there came certain shepherds dragging with them one whose\nhands were bound behind his back. He had come forth to them, they\nsaid, of his own accord when they were in the field. And first the\nyoung men gathered about him mocking him, but when he cried aloud,\n\"What place is left for me, for the Greeks suffer me not to live and\nthe men of Troy cry for vengeance upon me?\" they rather pitied him,\nand bade him speak and say whence he came and what he had to tell.\n\nThen the man spake, turning to King Priam: \"I will speak the truth,\nwhatever befall me. My name is Sinon and I deny not that I am a Greek.\nHaply thou hast heard the name of Palamedes, whom the Greeks slew, but\nnow, being dead, lament; and the cause was that because he counseled\npeace, men falsely accused him of treason. Now, of this Palamedes I\nwas a poor kinsman and followed him to Troy. And when he was dead,\nthrough the false witness of Ulysses, I lived in great grief and\ntrouble, nor could I hold my peace, but sware that if ever I came back\nto Argos I would avenge me of him that had done this deed. Then did\nUlysses seek occasion against me, whispering evil things, nor rested\ntill at the last, Calchas the soothsayer helping him--but what profit\nit that I should tell these things? For doubtless ye hold one Greek to\nbe even as another. Wherefore slay me and doubtless ye will do a\npleasure to Ulysses and the sons of Atreus.\"\n\nThen they bade him tell on, and he said:\n\n\"Often would the Greeks have fled to their homes, being weary of the\nwar, but still the stormy sea hindered them. And when this horse that\nye see had been built, most of all did the dreadful thunder roll from\nthe one end of the heaven to the other. Then the Greeks sent one who\nshould inquire of Apollo; and Apollo answered them thus: 'Men of\nGreece, even as ye appeased the winds with blood when ye came to Troy,\nso must ye appease them with blood now that ye would go from thence.'\nThen did men tremble to think on whom the doom should fall, and\nUlysses, with much clamor, drew forth Calchas the soothsayer into the\nmidst, and bade him say who it was that the gods would have as a\nsacrifice. Then did many forbode evil for me. Ten days did the\nsoothsayer keep silence, saying that he would not give any man to\ndeath. But then, for in truth the two had planned the matter\nbeforehand, he spake, appointing me to die. And to this thing they all\nagreed, each being glad to turn to another that which he feared for\nhimself. But when the day was come and all things were ready, the\nsalted meal for the sacrifice and the garlands, lo! I burst my bonds\nand fled and hid myself in the sedges of a pool, waiting till they\nshould have set sail, if haply that might be. But never shall I see\ncountry or father or children again. For doubtless on these will they\ntake vengeance for my flight. Only do thou, O King, have pity on me,\nwho have suffered many things, not having harmed any man.\"\n\nAnd King Priam had pity on him, and bade them loose his bonds, saying,\n\"Whoever thou art, forget now thy country. Henceforth thou art one of\nus. But tell me true: why made they this huge horse? Who contrived it?\nWhat seek they by it--to please the gods or to further their siege?\"\n\nThen said Sinon, and as he spake he stretched his hands to the sky, \"I\ncall you to witness, ye everlasting fires of heaven, that with good\nright I now break my oath of fealty and reveal the secrets of my\ncountrymen. Listen then, O King. All our hope has ever been in the\nhelp of Minerva. But from the day when Diomed and Ulysses dared,\nhaving bloody hands, to snatch her image from her holy place in Troy,\nher face was turned from us. Well do I remember how the eyes of the\nimage, well-nigh before they had set it in the camp, blazed with\nwrath, and how the salt sweat stood upon its limbs, aye, and how it\nthrice leapt from the ground, shaking shield and spear. Then Calchas\ntold us that we must cross the seas again and seek at home fresh omens\nfor our war. And this, indeed, they are doing even now, and will\nreturn anon. Also the soothsayer said, 'Meanwhile ye must make the\nlikeness of a horse, to be a peace-offering to Minerva. And take heed\nthat ye make it huge of bulk, so that the men of Troy may not receive\nit into their gates, nor bring it within their walls and get safety\nfor themselves thereby. For if,' he said, 'the men of Troy harm this\nimage at all, they shall surely perish; but if they bring it into\ntheir city, then shall Asia lay siege hereafter to the city of Pelops,\nand our children shall suffer the doom which we would fain have\nbrought on Troy.'\"\n\nThese words wrought much on the men of Troy, and as they pondered on\nthem, lo! the gods sent another marvel to deceive them. For while\nLaoco\u00f6n, the priest of Neptune, was slaying a bull at the altar of his\ngod, there came two serpents across the sea from Tenedos, whose heads\nand necks, whereon were thick manes of hair, were high above the\nwaves, and many scaly coils trailed behind in the waters. And when\nthey reached the land they still sped forward. Their eyes were red as\nblood and blazed with fire and their forked tongues hissed loud for\nrage. Then all the men of Troy grew pale with fear and fled away, but\nthese turned not aside this way or that, seeking Laoco\u00f6n where he\nstood. And first they wrapped themselves about his little sons, one\nserpent about each, and began to devour them. And when the father\nwould have given help to his children, having a sword in his hand,\nthey seized upon himself and bound him fast with their folds. Twice\nthey compassed him about his body, and twice about his neck, lifting\ntheir heads far above him. And all the while he strove to tear them\naway with his hands, his priest's garlands dripping with blood. Nor\ndid he cease to cry horribly aloud, even as a bull bellows when after\nan ill stroke of the axe it flees from the altar. But when their work\nwas done, the two glided to the citadel of Minerva and hid themselves\nbeneath the feet and the shield of the goddess. And men said one to\nanother, \"Lo! the priest Laoco\u00f6n has been judged according to his\ndeeds; for he cast his spear against this holy thing, and now the gods\nhave slain him.\" Then all cried out together that the horse of wood\nmust be drawn to the citadel. Whereupon they opened the Sc\u00e6an Gate and\npulled down the wall that was thereby, and put rollers under the feet\nof the horse and joined ropes thereto. So in much joy they drew it\ninto the city, youths and maidens singing about it the while and\nlaying their hands to the ropes with great gladness. And yet there\nwanted no signs and tokens of evil to come. Four times it halted on\nthe threshold of the gate, and men might have heard a clashing of arms\nwithin. Cassandra also opened her mouth, prophesying evil; but no man\nheeded her, for that was ever the doom upon her, not to be believed,\nthough speaking truth. So the men of Troy drew the horse into the\ncity. And that night they kept a feast to all the gods with great joy\nnot knowing that the last day of the great city had come.\n\nBut when night was now fully come and the men of Troy lay asleep, lo!\nfrom the ship of King Agamemnon there rose up a flame for a signal to\nthe Greeks; and these straightway manned their ships and made across\nthe sea from Tenedos, there being a great calm and the moon also\ngiving them light. Sinon likewise opened a secret door that was in the\ngreat horse and the chiefs issued forth therefrom and opened the gates\nof the city, slaying those that kept watch.\n\nMeanwhile there came a vision to \u00c6neas, who now, Hector being dead,\nwas the chief hope and stay of the men of Troy. It was Hector's self\nthat he seemed to see, but not such as he had seen him coming back\nrejoicing with the arms of Achilles or setting fire to the ships, but\neven as he lay after that Achilles dragged him at his chariot wheels,\ncovered with dust, and blood, his feet swollen and pierced through\nwith thongs. To him said \u00c6neas, not knowing what he said, \"Why hast\nthou tarried so long? Much have we suffered waiting for thee! And what\ngrief hath marked thy face, and whence these wounds?\"\n\nBut to this the spirit answered nothing, but said, groaning the while,\n\"Fly, son of Venus, fly and save thee from these flames. The enemy is\nin the walls and Troy hath utterly perished. If any hand could have\nsaved our city, this hand had done so. Thou art now the hope of Troy.\nTake then her gods and flee with them for company, seeking the city\nthat thou shalt one day build across the sea.\"\n\nAnd now the alarm of battle came nearer and nearer, and \u00c6neas, waking\nfrom sleep, climbed upon the roof and looked on the city. As a\nshepherd stands and sees a fierce flame sweeping before the south wind\nover the corn-fields or a flood rushing down from the mountains, so he\nstood. And as he looked, the great palace of De\u00efphobus sank down in\nthe fire and the house of Ucalegon that was hard by, blazed forth,\ntill the sea by Sige\u00fcm shone with the light. Then, scarce knowing what\nhe sought, he girded on his armor, thinking perchance that he might\nyet win some place of vantage or at the least might avenge himself on\nthe enemy or find honor in his death. But as he passed from out of his\nhouse there met him Panthus, the priest of Apollo that was on the\ncitadel, who cried to him, \"O \u00c6neas, the glory is departed from Troy\nand the Greeks have the mastery in the city; for armed men are coming\nforth from the great horse of wood and thousands also swarm in at the\ngates, which Sinon hath treacherously opened.\" And as he spake others\ncame up under the light of the moon, as Hypanis and Dymas and young\nCor\u0153bus, who had but newly come to Troy, seeking Cassandra to be\nhis wife. To whom \u00c6neas spake: \"If ye are minded, my brethren, to\nfollow me to the death, come on. For how things fare this night ye\nsee. The gods who were the stay of this city have departed from it;\nnor is aught remaining to which we may bring succor. Yet can we die as\nbrave men in battle. And haply he that counts his life to be lost may\nyet save it.\" Then, even as ravening wolves hasten through the mist\nseeking for prey, so they went through the city, doing dreadful deeds.\nAnd for a while the men of Greece fled before them.\n\nFirst of all there met them Androgeos with a great company following\nhim, who, thinking them to be friends, said, \"Haste, comrades; why are\nye so late? We are spoiling this city of Troy and ye are but newly\ncome from the ships.\" But forthwith, for they answered him not as he\nhad looked for, he knew that he had fallen among enemies. Then even as\none who treads upon a snake unawares among thorns and flies from it\nwhen it rises angrily against him with swelling neck, so Androgeos\nwould have fled. But the men of Troy rushed on and, seeing that they\nknew all the place and that great fear was upon the Greeks, slew many\nmen. Then said Cor\u0153bus, \"We have good luck in this matter, my\nfriends. Come now, let us change our shields and put upon us the armor\nof these Greeks. For whether we deal with our enemy by craft or by\nforce, who will ask?\" Then he took to himself the helmet and shield of\nAndrogeos and also girded the sword upon him. In like manner did the\nothers, and thus, going disguised among the Greeks, slew many, so that\nsome again fled to the ships and some were fain to climb into the\nhorse of wood. But lo! men came dragging by the hair from the temple\nof Minerva the virgin Cassandra, whom when Cor\u0153bus beheld, and how\nshe lifted up her eyes to heaven (but as for her hands, they were\nbound with iron), he endured not the sight, but threw himself upon\nthose that dragged her, the others following him. Then did a grievous\nmischance befall them, for the men of Troy that stood upon the roof of\nthe temple cast spears against them, judging them to be enemies. The\nGreeks also, being wroth that the virgin should be taken from them,\nfought the more fiercely, and many who had before been put to flight\nin the city came against them and prevailed, being indeed many against\nfew. Then first of all fell Cor\u0153bus, being slain by Peneleus the\nB\u0153otian, and Rhipeus also, the most righteous of all the sons of\nTroy. But the gods dealt not with him after his righteousness. Hypanis\nalso was slain and Dymas, and Panthus escaped not for all that more\nthan other men he feared the gods and was also the priest of Apollo.\n\nThen was \u00c6neas severed from the rest, having with him two only,\nIphitus and Pelias, Iphitus being an old man and Pelias sorely wounded\nby Ulysses. And these, hearing a great shouting, hastened to the\npalace of King Priam, where the battle was fiercer than in any place\nbeside. For some of the Greeks were seeking to climb the walls, laying\nladders thereto, whereon they stood, holding forth their shields with\ntheir left hands and with their right grasping the roofs. And the men\nof Troy, on the other hand, being in the last extremity, tore down the\nbattlements and the gilded beams wherewith the men of old had adorned\nthe palace. Then \u00c6neas, knowing of a secret door whereby the unhappy\nAndromache in past days had been wont to enter, bringing her son\nAstyanax to his grandfather, climbed on to the roof and joined himself\nto those that fought therefrom. Now upon this roof there was a tower,\nwhence all Troy could be seen and the camp of the Greeks and the\nships. This the men of Troy loosened from its foundations with bars of\niron, and thrust it over, so that it fell upon the enemy, slaying many\nof them. But not the less did others press forward, casting the while\nstones and javelins and all that came to their hands.\n\nMeanwhile others sought to break down the gates of the palace,\nPyrrhus, son of Achilles, being foremost among them, clad in shining\narmor of bronze. Like to a serpent was he, which sleeps indeed during\nthe winter, but in the spring comes forth into the light, full-fed on\nevil herbs, and, having cast his skin and renewed his youth, lifts his\nhead into the light of the sun and hisses with forked tongue. And with\nPyrrhus were tall Periphas, and Automedon, who had been armor-bearer\nto his father Achilles, and following them the youth of Scyros, which\nwas the kingdom of his grandfather Lycomedes. With a great battle-axe\nhe hewed through the doors, breaking down also the door-posts, though\nthey were plated with bronze, making, as it were, a great window,\nthrough which a man might see the palace within, the hall of King\nPriam and of the kings who had reigned aforetime in Troy. But when\nthey that were within perceived it, there arose a great cry of women\nwailing aloud and clinging to the doors and kissing them. But ever\nPyrrhus pressed on, fierce and strong as ever was his father Achilles,\nnor could aught stand against him, either the doors or they that\nguarded them. Then, as a river bursts its banks and overflows the\nplain, so did the sons of Greece rush into the palace.\n\nBut old Priam, when he saw the enemy in his hall, girded on him his\narmor, which now by reason of old age he had long laid aside, and took\na spear in his hand and would have gone against the adversary, only\nQueen Hecuba called to him from where she sat. For she and her\ndaughters had fled to the great altar of the household gods and sat\ncrowded about it like unto doves that are driven by a storm. Now the\naltar stood in an open court that was in the midst of the palace, with\na great bay-tree above it. So when she saw Priam, how he had girded\nhimself with armor as a youth, she cried to him and said, \"What hath\nbewitched thee, that thou girdest thyself with armor? It is not the\nsword that shall help us this day; no, not though my own Hector were\nhere, but rather the gods and their altars. Come hither to us, for\nhere thou wilt be safe, or at the least wilt die with us.\"\n\nSo she made the old man sit down in the midst. But lo! there came\nflying through the palace, Polites, his son, wounded to death by the\nspear of Pyrrhus, and Pyrrhus close behind him. And he, even as he\ncame into the sight of his father and his mother, fell dead upon the\nground. But when King Priam saw it he contained not himself, but cried\naloud, \"Now may the gods, if there be any justice in heaven,\nrecompense thee for this wickedness, seeing that thou hast not spared\nto slay the son before his father's eyes. Great Achilles, whom thou\nfalsely callest thy sire, did not thus to Priam, though he was an\nenemy, but reverenced right and truth and gave the body of Hector for\nburial and sent me back to my city.\"\n\nAnd as he spake the old man cast a spear, but aimless and without\nforce, which pierced not even the boss of the shield. Then said the\nson of Achilles, \"Go thou and tell my father of his unworthy son and\nall these evils deeds. And that thou mayest tell him die!\" And as he\nspake he caught in his left hand the old man's white hair and dragged\nhim, slipping the while in the blood of his own son, to the altar, and\nthen, lifting his sword high for a blow, drove it to the hilt in the\nold man's side. So King Priam, who had ruled mightily over many\npeoples and countries in the land of Asia, was slain that night,\nhaving first seen Troy burning about him and his citadel laid even\nwith the ground. So was his carcass cast out upon the earth, headless\nand without a name.\n\n\n\n\nBEOWULF AND GRENDEL\n\n\nLong ago there ruled over the Danes a king called Hrothgar. He gained\nsuccess and glory in war, so that his loyal kinsmen willingly obeyed\nhim, and everything prospered in his land.\n\nOne day it came into his mind that he would build a princely\nbanquet-hall, where he might entertain both the young and old of his\nkingdom; and he had the work widely made known to many a tribe over\nthe earth, so that they might bring rich gifts to beautify the hall.\n\nIn course of time the banquet-house was built and towered aloft, high\nand battlemented. Then Hrothgar gave it the name of Heorot, and called\nhis guests to the banquet, and gave them gifts of rings and other\ntreasures; and afterwards every day the joyous sound of revelry rang\nloud in the hall, with the music of the harp and the clear notes of\nthe singers.\n\nBut it was not long before the pleasure of the king's men was broken,\nfor a wicked demon began to work mischief against them. This cruel\nspirit was called Grendel, and he dwelt on the moors and among the\nfens. One night he came to Heorot when the noble guests lay at rest\nafter the feast, and seizing thirty thanes as they slept, set off on\nhis homeward journey, exulting in his booty.\n\nAt break of day his deed was known to all men, and great was the grief\namong the thanes. The good King Hrothgar also sat in sorrow, suffering\nheavy distress for the death of his warriors.\n\nNot long afterwards Grendel again appeared, and wrought a yet worse\ndeed of murder. After that the warriors no longer dared to sleep at\nHeorot, but sought out secret resting-places, leaving the great house\nempty.\n\nA long time passed. For the space of twelve winters Grendel waged a\nperpetual feud against Hrothgar and his people; the livelong night he\nroamed over the misty moors, visiting Heorot, and destroying both the\ntried warriors and the young men whenever he was able. Hrothgar was\nbroken-hearted, and many were the councils held in secret to\ndeliberate what it were best to do against these fearful terrors; but\nnothing availed to stop the fiend's ravages.\n\nNow the tale of Grendel's deeds went forth into many lands; and\namongst those who heard of it were the Geats, whose king was Higelac.\nChief of his thanes was a noble and powerful warrior named Beowulf,\nwho resolved to go to the help of the Danes. He bade his men make\nready a good sea-boat, that he might go across the wild swan's path to\nseek out Hrothgar and aid him; and his people encouraged him to go on\nthat dangerous errand even though he was dear to them.\n\nSo Beowulf chose fourteen of his keenest warriors, and sailed away\nover the waves in his well-equipped vessel, till he came within sight\nof the cliffs and mountains of Hrothgar's kingdom. The Danish warder,\nwho kept guard over the coast, saw them as they were making their ship\nfast and carrying their bright weapons on shore. So he mounted his\nhorse and rode to meet them, bearing in his hand his staff of office;\nand he questioned them closely as to whence they came and what their\nbusiness was.\n\nThen Beowulf explained their errand, and the warder, when he had heard\nit, bade them pass onwards, bearing their weapons, and gave orders\nthat their ship should be safely guarded.\n\nSoon they came within sight of the fair palace Heorot, and the warder\nshowed them the way to Hrothgar's court, and then bade them farewell,\nand returned to keep watch upon the coast.\n\nThen the bold thanes marched forward to Heorot, their armor and their\nweapons glittering as they went. Entering the hall, they set their\nshields and bucklers against the walls, placed their spears upright in\na sheaf together, and sat down on the benches, weary with their\nseafaring.\n\nThen a proud liegeman of Hrothgar's stepped forward and asked:\n\n\"Whence bring ye your shields, your gray war-shirts and frowning\nhelmets, and this sheaf of spears? Never saw I men of more valiant\naspect.\"\n\n\"We are Higelac's boon companions,\" answered Beowulf. \"Beowulf is my\nname, and I desire to declare my errand to the great prince, thy lord,\nif he will grant us leave to approach him.\"\n\nSo Wulfgar, another of Hrothgar's chieftains, went out to the king\nwhere he sat with the assembly of his earls and told him of the\narrival of the strangers, and Hrothgar received the news with joy, for\nhe had known Beowulf when he was a boy, and had heard of his fame as a\nwarrior. Therefore he bade Wulfgar bring him to his presence, and soon\nBeowulf stood before him and cried:\n\n\"Hail to thee, Hrothgar! I have heard the tale of Grendel, and my\npeople, who know my strength and prowess, have counseled me to seek\nthee out. For I have wrought great deeds in the past, and now I shall\ndo battle against this monster. Men say that so thick is his tawny\nhide that no weapon can injure him. I therefore disdain to carry sword\nor shield into the combat, but will fight with the strength of my arm\nonly, and either I will conquer the fiend or he will bear away my dead\nbody to the moor. Send to Higelac, if I fall in the fight, my\nbeautiful breastplate. I have no fear of death, for Destiny must ever\nbe obeyed.\"\n\nThen Hrothgar told Beowulf of the great sorrow caused to him by\nGrendel's terrible deeds, and of the failure of all the attempts that\nhad been made by the warriors to overcome him; and afterwards he bade\nhim sit down with his followers to partake of a meal.\n\nSo a bench was cleared for the Geats, and a thane waited upon them,\nand all the noble warriors gathered together, and a great feast was\nheld once more in Heorot with song and revelry. Waltheow, Hrothgar's\nqueen, came forth also, and handed the wine-cup to each of the thanes,\npledging the king in joyful mood and thanking Beowulf for his offer of\nhelp.\n\nAt last all the company arose to go to rest; and Hrothgar entrusted\nthe guardianship of Heorot to Beowulf with cheering words, and so bade\nhim good night. Then all left the hall, save only a watch appointed by\nHrothgar, and Beowulf himself with his followers, who laid themselves\ndown to rest.\n\nNo long time passed before Grendel came prowling from his home on the\nmoors under the misty slopes. Full of his evil purpose, he burst with\nfury into the hall and strode forward raging, a hideous, fiery light\ngleaming from his eyes. In the hall lay the warriors asleep, and\nGrendel laughed in his heart as he gazed at them, thinking to feast\nupon them all. Quickly he seized a sleeping warrior and devoured him;\nthen, stepping forward, he reached out his hand towards Beowulf as he\nlay at rest.\n\nBut the hero was ready for him, and seized his arm in a deadly grip\nsuch as Grendel had never felt before. Terror arose in the monster's\nheart, and his mind was bent on flight; but he could not get away.\n\nThen Beowulf stood upright and grappled with him firmly, and the two\nrocked to and fro in the struggle, knocking over benches and shaking\nthe hall with the violence of their fight. Suddenly a new and terrible\ncry arose, the cry of Grendel in fear and pain, for never once did\nBeowulf relax his hold upon him. Then many of Beowulf's earls drew\ntheir swords and rushed to aid their master; but no blade could pierce\nhim and nothing but Beowulf's mighty strength could prevail.\n\nAt last the monster's arm was torn off at the shoulder, and sick unto\ndeath, he fled to the fens, there to end his joyless life. Then\nBeowulf rejoiced at his night's work, wherein he had freed Heorot\nforever from the fiend's ravages.\n\nNow on the morrow the warriors flocked to the hall; and when they\nheard what had taken place, they went out and followed Grendel's\ntracks to a mere upon the moors, into which he had plunged and given\nup his life. Then, sure of his death, they returned rejoicing to\nHeorot, talking of Beowulf's glorious deed; and there they found the\nking and queen and a great company of people awaiting them.\n\nAnd now there was great rejoicing and happiness. Fair and gracious\nwere the thanks that Hrothgar gave to Beowulf, and great was the feast\nprepared in Heorot. Cloths embroidered with gold were hung along the\nwalls and the hall was decked in every possible way.\n\nWhen all were seated at the feast, Hrothgar bade the attendants bring\nforth his gifts to Beowulf as a reward of victory. He gave him an\nembroidered banner, a helmet and breastplate, and a valuable sword,\nall adorned with gold and richly ornamented. Also he gave orders to\nthe servants to bring into the court eight horses, on one of which was\na curiously adorned and very precious saddle, which the king was wont\nto use himself when he rode to practice the sword-game. These also he\ngave to Beowulf, thus like a true man requiting his valiant deeds with\nhorses and other precious gifts. He bestowed treasures also on each of\nBeowulf's followers and gave orders that a price should be paid in\ngold for the man whom the wicked Grendel had slain.\n\nAfter this there arose within the hall the din of voices and the\nsound of song; the instruments also were brought out and Hrothgar's\nminstrel sang a ballad for the delight of the warriors. Waltheow too\ncame forth, bearing in her train presents for Beowulf--a cup, two\narmlets, raiment and rings, and the largest and richest collar that\ncould be found in all the world.\n\nNow when evening came Hrothgar departed to his rest, and the warriors\ncleared the hall and lay down to sleep once more, with their shields\nand armor beside them as was their custom. But Beowulf was not with\nthem, for another resting-place had been assigned to him that night,\nfor all thought that there was now no longer any danger to be feared.\n\nBut in this they were mistaken, as they soon learnt to their cost. For\nno sooner were they all asleep than Grendel's mother, a monstrous\nwitch who dwelt at the bottom of a cold mere, came to Heorot to avenge\nher son and burst into the hall. The thanes started up in terror,\nhastily grasping their swords; but she seized upon Asher, the most\nbeloved of Hrothgar's warriors, who still lay sleeping, and bore him\noff with her to the fens, carrying also with her Grendel's arm, which\nlay at one end of the hall.\n\nThen there arose an uproar and the sound of mourning in Heorot. In\nfierce and gloomy mood Hrothgar summoned Beowulf and told him the\nghastly tale, begging him, if he dared, to go forth to seek out the\nmonster and destroy it.\n\nFull of courage, Beowulf answered with cheerful words, promising that\nGrendel's mother should not escape him; and soon he was riding forth\nfully equipped on his quest, accompanied by Hrothgar and many a good\nwarrior. They were able to follow the witch's tracks right through the\nforest glades and across the gloomy moor, till they came to a spot\nwhere some mountain trees bent over a hoar rock, beneath which lay a\ndreary and troubled lake; and there beside the water's edge lay the\nhead of Asher, and they knew that the witch must be at the bottom of\nthe water.\n\nFull of grief, the warriors sat down, while Beowulf arrayed himself in\nhis cunningly fashioned coat of mail and his richly ornamented helmet.\nThen he turned to Hrothgar and spoke a last word to him.\n\n\"If the fight go against me, great chieftain, be thou a guardian to my\nthanes, my kinsmen and my trusty comrades; and send thou to Higelac\nthose treasures that thou gavest me, that he may know thy kindness to\nme. Now will I earn glory for myself, or death shall take me away.\"\n\nSo saying, he plunged into the gloomy lake, at the bottom of which was\nGrendel's mother. Very soon she perceived his approach, and rushing\nforth, grappled with him and dragged him down to her den, where many\nhorrible sea-beasts joined in the fight against him. This den was so\nfashioned that the water could not enter it, and it was lit by the\nlight of a fire that shone brightly in the midst of it.\n\nAnd now Beowulf drew his sword and thrust at his terrible foe; but the\nweapon could not injure her, and he was forced to fling it away and\ntrust in the powerful grip of his arms as he had done with Grendel.\nSeizing the witch, he shook her till she sank down on the ground; but\nshe quickly rose again and requited him with a terrible hand-clutch,\nwhich caused Beowulf to stagger and then fall. Throwing herself upon\nhim, she seized a dagger to strike him; but he wrenched himself free\nand once more stood upright.\n\nThen he suddenly perceived an ancient sword hanging upon the wall of\nthe den, and seized it as a last resource. Fierce and savage, but\nwell-nigh hopeless, he struck the monster heavily upon the neck with\nit. Then, to his joy, the blade pierced right through her body and she\nsank down dying.\n\n[Illustration: BEOWULF FACE TO FACE WITH THE FIRE-BREATHING DRAGON]\n\nAt that moment the flames of the fire leapt up, throwing a\nbrilliant light over the den; and there against the wall Beowulf\nbeheld the dead body of Grendel lying on a couch. With one swinging\nblow of the powerful sword he struck off his head as a trophy to carry\nto Hrothgar.\n\nBut now a strange thing happened, for the blade of the sword began to\nmelt away even as ice melts, and soon nothing was left of it save the\nhilt. Carrying this and Grendel's head, Beowulf now left the den and\nswam upwards to the surface of the lake.\n\nThere the thanes met him with great rejoicings, and some quickly\nhelped him to undo his armor, while others prepared to carry the great\nhead of Grendel back to Heorot. It took four men to carry it, and\nghastly, though wonderful, was the sight of it.\n\nAnd now once more the warriors assembled in Heorot, and Beowulf\nrecounted to Hrothgar the full tale of his adventure and presented to\nhim the hilt of the wonderful sword. Again the king thanked him from\nthe depth of his heart for his valiant deeds; and as before a fair\nfeast was prepared and the warriors made merry till night came and\nthey repaired to rest, certain this time of their safety.\n\nNow on the morrow Beowulf and his nobles made ready to depart to their\nown land; and when they were fully equipped they went to bid farewell\nto Hrothgar. Then Beowulf spoke, saying:\n\n\"Now are we voyagers eager to return to our lord Higelac. We have been\nright well and heartily entertained, O king, and if there is aught\nfurther that I can ever do for thee, then I shall be ready for thy\nservice. If ever I hear that thy neighbors are again persecuting thee,\nI will bring a thousand thanes to thy aid; and I know that Higelac\nwill uphold me in this.\"\n\n\"Dear are thy words to me, O Beowulf,\" Hrothgar made answer, \"and\ngreat is thy wisdom. If Fate should take away the life of Higelac, the\nGeats could have no better king than thou; and hereafter there shall\nnever more be feuds between the Danes and the Geats, for thou by thy\ngreat deeds hast made a lasting bond of friendship between them.\"\n\nThen Hrothgar gave more gifts to Beowulf and bade him seek his beloved\npeople and afterwards come back again to visit him, for so dearly had\nhe grown to love him that he longed to see him again.\n\nSo the two embraced and bade each other farewell with great affection,\nand then at last Beowulf went down to where his ship rode at anchor\nand sailed away with his followers to his own country, taking with him\nthe many gifts that Hrothgar had made to him. And coming to Higelac's\ncourt, he told him of his adventures, and having shown him the\ntreasure, gave it all up to him, so loyal and true was he. But Higelac\nin return gave Beowulf a goodly sword and seven thousand pieces of\ngold and a manor-house, also a princely seat for him to dwell in.\nThere Beowulf lived in peace, and not for many years was he called to\nfresh adventures.\n\n\nBEOWULF AND THE FIRE-DRAGON\n\nAfter his return to the land of the Geats, Beowulf served Higelac\nfaithfully till the day of the king's death, which befell in an\nexpedition that he made to Friesland. Beowulf was with him on that\ndisastrous journey, and only with difficulty did he escape with his\nlife. But when he returned as a poor solitary fugitive to his people,\nHygd, Higelac's wife, offered him the kingdom and the king's\ntreasures, for she feared that her young son Heardred was not strong\nenough to hold the throne of his fathers against invading foes.\n\nBeowulf, however, would not accept the kingdom, but rather chose to\nuphold Heardred among the people, giving him friendly counsel and\nserving him faithfully and honorably.\n\nBut before very long Heardred was killed in battle, and then at last\nBeowulf consented to become king of the Geats.\n\nFor fifty years he ruled well and wisely and his people prospered. But\nat last trouble came in the ravages of a terrible dragon, and once\nmore Beowulf was called forth to a terrific combat.\n\nFor three hundred years this dragon had kept watch over a hoard of\ntreasure on a mountain by the seashore in the country of the Geats.\nThe treasure had been hidden in a cave under the mountain by a band of\nsea-robbers; and when the last of them was dead the dragon took\npossession of the cave and of the treasure and kept fierce watch over\nthem.\n\nBut one day a poor man came to the spot while the dragon was fast\nasleep and carried off part of the treasure to his master.\n\nWhen the dragon awoke he soon discovered the man's footprints, and on\nexamining the cave he found that part of the gold and splendid jewels\nhad disappeared. In wrathful and savage mood he sought all round the\nmountain for the robber, but could find no one.\n\nSo when evening came he went forth eager for revenge, and throwing out\nflashes of fire in every direction, he began to set fire to all the\nland. Beowulf's own princely manor-house was burnt down and terrible\ndestruction was wrought on every hand, till day broke and the\nfire-dragon returned to his den.\n\nGreat was Beowulf's grief at this dire misfortune, and eager was his\ndesire for vengeance. He scorned to seek the foe with a great host\nbehind him, nor did he dread the combat in any way, for he called to\nmind his many feats of war, and especially his fight with Grendel.\n\nSo he quickly had fashioned a mighty battle-shield, made entirely of\niron, for he knew that the wooden one that he was wont to use would\nbe burnt up by the flames of the fire-dragon. Then he chose out eleven\nof his earls, and together they set out for the mountain, led thither\nby the man who had stolen the treasure.\n\nWhen they came to the mouth of the cave Beowulf bade farewell to his\ncompanions, for he was resolved to fight single-handed against the\nfoe.\n\n\"Many a fight have I fought in my youth,\" he said, \"and now once more\nwill I, the guardian of my people, seek the combat. I would not bear\nany sword or other weapon against the dragon if I thought that I could\ngrapple with him as I did with the monster Grendel. But I fear that I\nshall not be able to approach so close to this foe, for he will send\nforth hot, raging fire and venomous breath. Yet am I resolute in mood,\nfearless and resolved not to yield one foot's-breadth to the monster.\n\n\"Tarry ye here on the hill, my warriors, and watch which of us two\nwill survive the deadly combat, for this is no enterprise for you. I\nonly can attempt it, because such great strength has been given to me.\nTherefore I will do battle alone and will either slay the dragon and\nwin the treasure for my people or fall in the fight, as destiny shall\nappoint.\"\n\nWhen he had spoken thus Beowulf strode forward to the fight, armed\nwith his iron shield, his sword and his dagger. A stone arch spanned\nthe mouth of the cave, and on one side a boiling stream, hot as though\nwith raging fires, rushed forth. Undaunted by it, Beowulf uttered a\nshout to summon the dragon to the fight. Immediately a burning breath\nfrom the monster came out of the rock, the earth rumbled and then the\ndragon rushed forth to meet his fate.\n\nStanding with his huge shield held well before him, Beowulf received\nthe attack and struck from beneath his shield at the monster's side.\nBut his blade failed him and turned aside, and the blow but served to\nenrage the dragon, so that he darted forth such blasting rays of\ndeadly fire that Beowulf was well nigh overwhelmed and the fight went\nhard with him.\n\nNow his eleven chosen comrades could see the combat from where they\nstood; and one of them, Beowulf's kinsman Wiglaf, was moved to great\nsorrow at the sight of his lord's distress. At last he could bear it\nno longer, but grasped his wooden shield and his sword and cried to\nthe other thanes:\n\n\"Remember how we promised our lord in the banquet-hall, when he gave\nus our helmets and swords and battle-gear, that we would one day repay\nhim for his gifts. Now is the day come that our liege lord has need of\nthe strength of good warriors. We must go help him, even though he\nthought to accomplish this mighty work alone, for we can never return\nto our homes if we have not slain the enemy and saved our king's life.\nRather than live when he is dead, I will perish with him in this\ndeadly fire.\"\n\nThen he rushed through the noisome smoke to his lord's side, crying:\n\n\"Dear Beowulf, take courage. Remember thy boast that thy valor shall\nnever fail thee in thy lifetime, and defend thyself now with all thy\nmight, and I will help thee.\"\n\nBut the other warriors were afraid to follow him, so that Beowulf and\nWiglaf stood alone to face the dragon.\n\nAs soon as the monster advanced upon them, Wiglaf's wooden shield was\nburnt away by the flames, so that he was forced to take refuge behind\nBeowulf's iron shield; and this time when Beowulf struck with his\nsword, it was shivered to pieces. Then the dragon flung himself upon\nhim and caught him up in his arms, crushing him till he lay senseless\nand covered with wounds.\n\nBut now Wiglaf showed his valor and strength, and smote the monster\nwith such mighty blows that at last the fire coming forth from him\nbegan to abate somewhat. Then Beowulf came once more to his senses,\nand drawing his deadly knife, struck with it from beneath; and at last\nthe force of the blows from the two noble kinsmen felled the fierce\nfire-dragon and he sank down dead beside them.\n\nBut Beowulf's wounds were very great, and he knew that the joys of\nlife were ended for him and that death was very near. So while Wiglaf\nwith wonderful tenderness unfastened his helmet for him and refreshed\nhim with water, he spoke, saying:\n\n\"Though I am sick with mortal wounds, there is yet some comfort\nremaining for me. For I have governed my people for fifty winters and\nkept them safe from invading foes; yet have not sought out quarrels\nnor led my kinsmen to dire slaughter when there was no need. Therefore\nthe Ruler of all men will not blame me when my life departs from my\nbody.\n\n\"And now go thou quickly, dear Wiglaf, to spy out the treasure within\nthe cave, so that I may see what wealth I have won for my people\nbefore I die.\"\n\nSo Wiglaf went into the cave and there he saw many precious jewels,\nold vessels, helmets, gold armlets and other treasures, which excelled\nin beauty and number any that mankind has ever known. Moreover, high\nabove the treasure flapped a marvelous gilded standard, from which\ncame a ray of light which lit up all the cave.\n\nThen Wiglaf seized as much as he could carry of the precious spoils,\nand taking the standard also, hastened back to his lord, dreading lest\nhe should find him already dead.\n\nBeowulf was very near his life's end, but when Wiglaf had again\nrevived him with water, he had strength to speak once more.\n\n\"Glad am I,\" he said, \"that I have been able before my death to gain\nso much for my people. But now I may no longer abide here. Bid the\ngallant warriors burn my body on the headland here which juts into the\nsea, and afterwards raise a huge mound on the same spot, that the\nsailors who drive their vessels over the misty floods may call it\nBeowulf's Mound.\"\n\nThen the dauntless prince undid the golden collar from his neck and\ngave it to Wiglaf with his helmet and coat of mail, saying:\n\n\"Thou art the last of all our race, for Fate has swept away all my\nkindred save thee to their doom, and now I also must join them,\" and\nwith these words the aged king fell back dead.\n\nNow as Wiglaf sat by his lord, grieving sorely at his death, the other\nten thanes who had shown themselves to be faithless and cowardly\napproached with shame to his side. Then Wiglaf turned to them, crying\nbitterly:\n\n\"Truly our liege lord flung away utterly in vain the battle-gear that\nhe gave ye. Little could he boast of his comrades when the hour of\nneed came. I myself was able to give him some succor in the fight, but\nye should have stood by him also to defend him. But now the giving of\ntreasure shall cease for ye and ye will be shamed and will lose your\nland-right when the nobles learn of your inglorious deed. Death is\nbetter for every earl than ignominious life.\"\n\nAfter this Wiglaf summoned the other earls and told them of all that\nhad happened and of the mound that Beowulf wished them to build. Then\nthey gathered together at the mouth of the cave and gazed with tears\nupon their lifeless lord and looked with awe upon the huge dragon as\nit lay stiff in death beside its conqueror. Afterwards, led by Wiglaf,\nseven chosen earls entered the cave and brought forth all the\ntreasure, while others busied themselves in preparing the funeral\npyre.\n\nWhen all was ready and the huge pile of wood had been hung with\nhelmets, war-shields and bright coats of mail, as befitted the funeral\npyre of a noble warrior, the earls brought their beloved lord's body\nto the spot and laid it on the wood. Then they kindled the fire and\nstood by mourning and uttering sorrowful chants, while the smoke rose\nup and the fire roared and the body was consumed away. Afterwards they\nbuilt a mound on the hill, making it high and broad so that it could\nbe seen from very far away. Ten days they spent in building it; and\nbecause they desired to pay the highest of honors to Beowulf, they\nburied in it the whole of the treasure that the dragon had guarded,\nfor no price was too heavy to pay as a token of their love for their\nlord. So the treasure even now remains in the earth, as useless as it\nwas before.\n\nWhen at last the mound was completed, the noble warriors gathered\ntogether and rode around it, lamenting their king and singing the\npraise of his valor and mighty deeds.\n\nThus mourned the people of the Geats for the fall of Beowulf, who of\nall kings in the world was the mildest and kindest, the most gracious\nto his people, and the most eager to win their praise.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GOOD KING ARTHUR\n\n\nProbably every one knows the story of the great King Arthur who, the\nlegends say, ruled in Britain so many, many years ago and gathered\nabout him in his famous Round Table, knights of splendid courage,\ntried and proven. So well loved was the story of Arthur in other\ncountries as well as in England that it was among the very first works\never printed in Europe, and it was still welcomed centuries later when\nthe great English poet, Alfred Tennyson, told it in his _Idylls of the\nKing_.\n\nThe boy Arthur was really the son of King Uther Pendragon, but few\npersons knew of his birth. Uther had given him into the care of the\nenchanter Merlin, who had carried him to the castle of Sir Hector,[A]\nan old friend of Uther's. Here the young prince lived as a child of\nthe house.\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[A] This name is otherwise given as _Sir Ector_, and by Tennyson as\n_Sir Anton_.\n\nNow Merlin was a very wise man, and when King Uther died several years\nlater the noblemen asked his advice in choosing a new king.\n\n\"Gather together in St. Stephen's Church in London, on Christmas Day,\"\nwas all the enchanter answered.\n\nSo the knights assembled, and when the mass was over and they passed\nout into the churchyard, there they beheld a large block of stone,\nupon which rested a heavy anvil. The blade of a jeweled sword was sunk\ndeeply into the anvil.\n\nWondering, the noblemen drew near. One of them discovered an\ninscription upon the hilt which said that none but the man who could\ndraw out the sword should ever rule in Uther's place. One by one they\ntried, but the sword was firmly imbedded. No one could draw it forth.\n\nArthur was only a baby at this time, but some years later Sir Hector\ntraveled up to London, bringing with him his own son, Sir Kay, and his\nfoster son, Arthur. Sir Kay had just reached manhood and was to take\npart in his first tournament. Imagine his distress, therefore, when,\non arriving at the tourney ground, he discovered that he had forgotten\nto bring his sword.\n\n\"I will fetch it for you,\" cried the young Arthur, anxious to be of\nservice.\n\nHe found the apartment of Sir Kay closed and locked; but he was\ndetermined to get a sword for his brother, and remembering the huge\nanvil he had seen in the churchyard, he hurried toward it. Grasping\nthe hilt of the projecting sword, he drew it out easily.\n\nHappy over his good fortune, Arthur returned to the tourney ground and\ngave the new sword to his foster brother. Sir Hector, who stood near,\nrecognized it.\n\n\"Where did you get that sword?\" he asked.\n\n\"From the great anvil in the churchyard of St. Stephen's I drew it,\"\nwas the answer.\n\nBut Sir Hector still doubted, and when the tournament was over, he and\nall the principal nobles of the realm rode back to the churchyard.\n\nArthur replaced the sword in the anvil and stood aside while all\npresent tried to draw it forth. None succeeded. Then Arthur again\nstepped up, grasped the hilt and pulled out the blade.\n\n\"The king, the king!\" the people cried; for they knew that at last\nthey had found a worthy successor to the good King Uther.\n\nSo Arthur was crowned king and entered upon that wise and kingly rule\nof which the praises have so often been sung.\n\nFollowing are the stories of the coming and passing of Arthur as they\nare related by Tennyson:\n\n\nTHE COMING OF ARTHUR\n\n        Leodogran, the King of Cameliard,\n      Had one fair daughter, and none other child;\n      And she was fairest of all flesh on earth,\n      Guinevere, and in her his one delight.\n\n        For many a petty king ere Arthur came\n      Ruled in this isle, and ever waging war\n      Each upon other, wasted all the land;\n      And still from time to time the heathen host\n      Swarm'd overseas, and harried what was left.\n      And so there grew great tracts of wilderness,\n      Wherein the beast was ever more and more,\n      But man was less and less, till Arthur came.\n      For first Aurelius lived and fought and died,\n      And after him King Uther fought and died,\n      But either fail'd to make the kingdom one.\n      And after these King Arthur for a space,\n      And thro' the puissance of his Table Round,\n      Drew all their petty princedoms under him,\n      Their king and head, and made a realm, and reign'd.\n\n        And thus the land of Cameliard was waste,\n      Thick with wet woods, and many a beast therein,\n      And none or few to scare or chase the beast;\n      So that wild dog and wolf and boar and bear\n      Came night and day, and rooted in the fields,\n      And wallow'd in the gardens of the King.\n      And ever and anon the wolf would steal\n      The children and devour, but now and then,\n      Her own brood lost or dead, lent her fierce teat\n      To human sucklings; and the children housed\n      In her foul den, there at their meat would growl,\n      And mock their foster-mother on four feet,\n      Till, straightened, they grew up to wolf-like men,\n      Worse than the wolves. And King Leodogran\n      Groan'd for the Roman legions here again,\n      And C\u00e6sar's eagle: then his brother king,\n      Urien, assail'd him: last a heathen horde,\n      Reddening the sun with smoke and earth with blood,\n      And on the spike that split the mother's heart\n      Spitting the child, brake on him, till, amazed,\n      He knew not whither he should turn for aid.\n\n        But--for he heard of Arthur newly crown'd,\n      Tho' not without an uproar made by those\n      Who cried, \"He is not Uther's son\"--the King\n      Sent to him, saying, \"Arise, and help us thou!\n      For here between the man and beast we die.\"\n\n        And Arthur yet had done no deed of arms,\n      But heard the call, and came: and Guinevere\n      Stood by the castle walls to watch him pass;\n      But since he neither wore on helm or shield\n      The golden symbol of his kinglihood,\n      But rode a simple knight among his knights,\n      And many of these in richer arms than he,\n      She saw him not, or marked not, if she saw,\n      One among many, tho' his face was bare.\n      But Arthur, looking downward as he past,\n      Felt the light of her eyes into his life\n      Smite on the sudden, yet rode on, and pitch'd\n      His tents beside the forest. Then he drave\n      The heathen; after, slew the beast, and fell'd\n      The forest, letting in the sun, and made\n      Broad pathways for the hunter and the knight,\n      And so return'd.\n\n                    For while he lingered there,\n      A doubt that ever smoulder'd in the hearts\n      Of those great Lords and Barons of his realm\n      Flash'd forth and into war: for most of these,\n      Colleaguing with a score of petty kings,\n      Made head against him, crying, \"Who is he\n      That he should rule us? who hath proven him\n      King Uther's son? for lo! we look at him,\n      And find nor face nor bearing, limbs nor voice,\n      Are like to those of Uther whom we knew.\n      This is the son of Gorlo\u00efs, not the King;\n      This is the son of Anton, not the King.\"\n\n        And Arthur, passing thence to battle, felt\n      Travail, and throes and agonies of the life,\n      Desiring to be join'd with Guinevere;\n      And thinking as he rode, \"Her father said\n      That there between the man and beast they die.\n      Shall I not lift her from this land of beasts\n      Up to my throne, and side by side with me?\n      What happiness to reign a lonely king,\n      Vext--O ye stars that shudder over me,\n      O earth that soundest hollow under me,\n      Vext with waste dreams? for saving I be join'd\n      To her that is the fairest under heaven,\n      I seem as nothing in the mighty world,\n      And cannot will my will, nor work my work\n      Wholly, nor make myself in mine own realm\n      Victor and lord. But were I join'd with her,\n      Then might we live together as one life,\n      And reigning with one will in everything\n      Have power on this dark land to lighten it,\n      And power on this dead world to make it live.\"\n\n        Thereafter--as he speaks who tells the tale--\n      When Arthur reach'd a field-of-battle bright\n      With pitch'd pavilions of his foe, the world\n      Was all so clear about him, that he saw\n      The smallest rock far on the faintest hill,\n      And even in high day the morning star.\n      So when the King had set his banner broad,\n      At once from either side, with trumpet-blast,\n      And shouts, and clarions shrilling unto blood,\n      The long-lanced battle let their horses run.\n      And now the barons and the kings prevail'd,\n      And now the King, as here and there that war\n      Went swaying; but the Powers who walk the world\n      Made lightnings and great thunders over him,\n      And dazed all eyes, till Arthur by main might\n      And mightier of his hands with every blow,\n      And leading all his knighthood threw the kings\n      Car\u00e1dos, Urien, Cradlemont of Wales,\n      Claudias, and Clariance of Northumberland,\n      The King Brandagoras of Latangor,\n      With Anguisant of Erin, Morganore,\n      And Lot of Orkney. Then, before a voice\n      As dreadful as the shout of one who sees\n      To one who sins, and deems himself alone\n      And all the world asleep, they swerved and brake\n      Flying, and Arthur call'd to stay the brands\n      That hack'd among the flyers, \"Ho! they yield!\"\n      So like a painted battle the war stood\n      Silenced, the living quiet as the dead,\n      And in the heart of Arthur joy was lord.\n      He laugh'd upon his warrior whom he loved\n      And honor'd most. \"Thou dost not doubt me King,\n      So well thine arm hath wrought for me today.\"\n      \"Sir and my liege,\" he cried, \"the fire of God\n      Descends upon thee in the battle-field:\n      I know thee for my King!\" Whereat the two,\n      For each had warded either in the fight,\n      Sware on the field of death a deathless love.\n      And Arthur said, \"Man's word is God in man:\n      Let chance what will, I trust thee to the death.\"\n\n        Then quickly from the foughten field he sent\n      Ulfius, and Brastias, and Bedivere,\n      His new-made knights, to King Leodogran,\n      Saying, \"If I in aught have served thee well,\n      Give me thy daughter Guinevere to wife.\"\n\n        Whom when he heard, Leodogran in heart\n      Debating--\"How should I that am a king,\n      However much he holp me at my need,\n      Give my one daughter saving to a king,\n      And a king's son?\"--lifted his voice, and call'd\n      A hoary man, his chamberlain, to whom\n      He trusted all things, and of him required\n      His counsel: \"Knowest thou aught of Arthur's birth?\"\n\n        Then spake the hoary chamberlain and said,\n      \"Sir King, there be but two old men that know:\n      And each is twice as old as I; and one\n      Is Merlin, the wise man that ever served\n      King Uther thro' his magic art; and one\n      Is Merlin's master (so they call him) Bleys,\n      Who taught him magic; but the scholar ran\n      Before the master, and so far, that Bleys\n      Laid magic by, and sat him down, and wrote\n      All things and whatsoever Merlin did\n      In one great annal-book, where after-years\n      Will learn the secret of our Arthur's birth.\"\n\n        To whom the King Leodogran replied,\n      \"O friend, had I been holpen half as well\n      By this King Arthur as by thee today,\n      Then beast and man had had their share of me:\n      But summon here before us yet once more\n      Ulfius, and Brastias, and Bedivere.\"\n\n        Then, when they came before him, the King said,\n      \"I have seen the cuckoo chased by lesser fowl,\n      And reason in the chase: but wherefore now\n      Do these your lords stir up the heat of war,\n      Some calling Arthur born of Gorlo\u00efs,\n      Others of Anton? Tell me, ye yourselves,\n      Hold ye this Arthur for King Uther's son?\"\n\n        And Ulfius and Brastias answer'd, \"Ay.\"\n      Then Bedivere, the first of all his knights,\n      Knighted by Arthur at his crowning, spake--\n      For bold in heart and act and word was he,\n      Whenever slander breathed against the King--\n\n        \"Sir, there be many rumors on this head:\n      For there be those who hate him in their hearts,\n      Call him base-born, and since his ways are sweet,\n      And theirs are bestial, hold him less than man:\n      And there be those who deem him more than man,\n      And dream he dropt from heaven: but my belief\n      In all this matter--so ye care to learn--\n      Sir, for ye know that in King Uther's time\n      The prince and warrior Gorlo\u00efs, he that held\n      Tintagil castle by the Cornish sea,\n      Was wedded with a winsome wife, Ygerne:\n      And daughters had she borne him--one whereof,\n      Lot's wife, the Queen of Orkney, Bellicent,\n      Hath ever like a loyal sister cleaved\n      To Arthur--but a son she had not borne.\n      And Uther cast upon her eyes of love:\n      But she, a stainless wife to Gorlo\u00efs,\n      So loathed the bright dishonor of his love,\n      That Gorlo\u00efs and King Uther went to war:\n      And overthrown was Gorlo\u00efs and slain.\n      Then Uther in his wrath and heat besieged\n      Ygerne within Tintagil, where her men,\n      Seeing the mighty swarm about their walls,\n      Left her and fled, and Uther enter'd in,\n      And there was none to call to but himself.\n      So, compass'd by the power of the King,\n      Enforced she was to wed him in her tears,\n      And with a shameful swiftness: afterward,\n      Not many moons, King Uther died himself,\n      Moaning and wailing for an heir to rule\n      After him, lest the realm should go to wrack.\n      And that same night, the night of the new year,\n      By reason of the bitterness and grief\n      That vext his mother, all before his time\n      Was Arthur born, and all as soon as born\n      Deliver'd at a secret postern-gate\n      To Merlin, to be holden far apart\n      Until his hour should come; because the lords\n      Of that fierce day were as the lords of this,\n      Wild beasts, and surely would have torn the child\n      Piecemeal among them, had they known; for each\n      But sought to rule for his own self and hand,\n      And many hated Uther for the sake\n      Of Gorlo\u00efs. Wherefore Merlin took the child,\n      And gave him to Sir Anton, an old knight\n      And ancient friend of Uther; and his wife\n      Nursed the young prince, and rear'd him with her own;\n      And no man knew. And ever since the lords\n      Have foughten like wild beasts among themselves,\n      So that the realm has gone to wrack: but now,\n      This year, when Merlin (for his hour had come)\n      Brought Arthur forth, and set him in the hall,\n      Proclaiming, 'Here is Uther's heir, your king,'\n      A hundred voices cried, 'Away with him!\n      No king of ours! A son of Gorlo\u00efs he,\n      Or else the child of Anton and no king,\n      Or else base-born.' Yet Merlin thro' his craft,\n      And while the people clamor'd for a king,\n      Had Arthur crown'd; but after, the great lords\n      Banded, and so brake out in open war.\"\n\n        Then while the King debated with himself\n      If Arthur were the child of shamefulness,\n      Or born the son of Gorlo\u00efs, after death,\n      Or Uther's son, and born before his time,\n      Or whether there were truth in anything\n      Said by these three, there came to Cameliard,\n      With Gawain and young Modred, her two sons,\n      Lot's wife, the Queen of Orkney, Bellicent;\n      Whom as he could, not as he would, the King\n      Made feast for, saying, as they sat at meat:\n\n        \"A doubtful throne is ice on summer seas.\n      Ye come from Arthur's court. Victor his men\n      Report him! Yea, but ye--think ye this king--\n      So many those that hate him, and so strong,\n      So few his knights, however brave they be--\n      Hath body enow to hold his foemen down?\"\n\n        \"O King,\" she cried, \"and I will tell thee: few,\n      Few, but all brave, all of one mind with him;\n      For I was near him when the savage yells\n      Of Uther's peerage died and Arthur sat\n      Crown'd on the da\u00efs, and his warriors cried,\n      'Be thou the king, and we will work thy will,\n      Who love thee.' Then the King in low deep tones,\n      And simple words of great authority,\n      Bound them by so strait vows to his own self,\n      That when they rose, knighted from kneeling, some\n      Were pale as at the passing of a ghost.\n      Some flush'd, and others dazed, as one who wakes\n      Half-blinded at the coming of a light.\n\n        \"But when he spake and cheer'd his Table Round\n      With large, divine and comfortable words,\n      Beyond my tongue to tell thee--I beheld\n      From eye to eye thro' all their Order flash\n      A momentary likeness of the King:\n      And ere it left their faces, thro' the cross\n      And those around it and the Crucified,\n      Down from the casement over Arthur, smote\n      Flame-color, vert, and azure, in three rays,\n      One falling upon each of three fair queens,\n      Who stood in silence near his throne, the friends\n      Of Arthur, gazing on him, tall, with bright\n      Sweet faces, who will help him at his need.\n\n        \"And there I saw mage Merlin, whose vast wit\n      And hundred winters are but as the hands\n      Of loyal vassals toiling for their liege.\n\n        \"And near him stood the Lady of the Lake,\n      Who knows a subtler magic than his own--\n      Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful.\n      She gave the King his huge cross-hilted sword,\n      Whereby to drive the heathen out: a mist\n      Of incense curl'd about her, and her face\n      Well-nigh was hidden in the minster gloom;\n      But there was heard among the holy hymns\n      A voice as of the waters, for she dwells\n      Down in a deep, calm, whatsoever storms\n      May shake the world, and when the surface rolls,\n      Hath power to walk the waters like our Lord.\n\n        \"There likewise I beheld Excalibur\n      Before him at his crowning borne, the sword\n      That rose from out the bosom of the lake,\n      And Arthur row'd across and took it--rich\n      With jewels, elfin Urim, on the hilt,\n      Bewildering heart and eye--the blade so bright\n      That men are blinded by it--on one side,\n      Graven in the oldest tongue of all this world,\n      'Take me,' but turn the blade and ye shall see,\n      And written in the speech ye speak yourself,\n      'Cast me away!' And sad was Arthur's face\n      Taking it, but old Merlin counsel'd him,\n      'Take thou and strike! the time to cast away\n      Is yet far-off.' So this great brand the king\n      Took, and by this will beat his foemen down.\"\n\n        Thereat Leodogran rejoiced, but thought\n      To sift his doubtings to the last, and ask'd,\n      Fixing full eyes of question on her face,\n      \"The swallow and the swift are near akin,\n      But thou art closer to this noble prince,\n      Being his own dear sister\"; and she said,\n      \"Daughter of Gorlo\u00efs and Ygerne am I\";\n      \"And therefore Arthur's sister?\" asked the King.\n      She answer'd, \"These be secret things,\" and sign'd\n      To those two sons to pass and let them be.\n      And Gawain went, and breaking into song\n      Sprang out, and follow'd by his flying hair\n      Ran like a colt, and leapt at all he saw:\n      But Modred laid his ear beside the doors,\n      And there half heard; the same that afterward\n      Struck for the throne, and striking found his doom.\n\n        And then the Queen made answer, \"What know I?\n      For dark my mother was in eyes and hair,\n      And dark in hair and eyes am I; and dark\n      Was Gorlo\u00efs, yea and dark was Uther too,\n      Well-nigh to blackness; but this King is fair\n      Beyond the race of Britons and of men.\n      Moreover, always in my mind I hear\n      A cry from out the dawning of my life,\n      A mother weeping, and I hear her say,\n      'O that ye had some brother, pretty one,\n      To guard thee on the rough ways of the world.'\"\n\n        \"Ay,\" said the King, \"and hear ye such a cry?\n      But when did Arthur chance upon thee first?\"\n\n        \"O King!\" she cried, \"and I will tell thee true:\n      He found me first when yet a little maid:\n      Beaten I had been for a little fault\n      Whereof I was not guilty; and out I ran\n      And flung myself down on a bank of heath,\n      And hated this fair world and all therein,\n      And wept and wish'd that I were dead; and he--\n      I know not whether of himself he came,\n      Or brought by Merlin, who, they say, can walk\n      Unseen at pleasure--he was at my side,\n      And spake sweet words, and comforted my heart,\n      And dried my tears, being a child with me.\n      And many a time he came, and evermore\n      As I grew greater grew with me; and sad\n      At times he seem'd, and sad with him was I,\n      Stern too at times, and then I loved him not,\n      But sweet again, and then I loved him well.\n      And now of late I see him less and less,\n      But those first days had golden hours for me,\n      For then I surely thought he would be king.\n\n       \"But let me tell thee now another tale:\n      For Bleys, our Merlin's master, as they say,\n      Died but of late, and sent his cry to me,\n      To hear him speak before he left his life.\n      Shrunk like a fairy changeling lay the mage;\n      And when I enter'd told me that himself\n      And Merlin ever served about the King,\n      Uther, before he died; and on the night\n      When Uther in Tintagil past away\n      Moaning and wailing for an heir, the two\n      Left the still King, and passing forth to breathe,\n      Then from the castle gateway by the chasm\n      Descending thro' the dismal night--a night\n      In which the bounds of heaven and earth were lost--\n      Beheld, so high upon the dreary deeps\n      It seem'd in heaven, a ship, the shape thereof\n      A dragon wing'd, and all from stem to stern\n      Bright with a shining people on the decks,\n      And gone as soon as seen. And then the two\n      Dropt to the cove, and watch'd the great sea fall,\n      Wave after wave, each mightier than the last,\n      Till last, a ninth one, gathering half the deep\n      And full of voices, slowly rose and plunged\n      Roaring, and all the wave was in a flame:\n      And down the wave and in the flame was borne\n      A naked babe, and rode to Merlin's feet,\n      Who stoopt and caught the babe, and cried 'The King!\n      Here is an heir for Uther!' And the fringe\n      Of that great breaker, sweeping up the strand,\n      Lash'd at the wizard as he spake the word,\n      And all at once all round him rose in fire,\n      So that the child and he were clothed in fire.\n      And presently thereafter followed calm,\n      Free sky and stars: 'And this same child,' he said,\n      'Is he who reigns: nor could I part in peace\n      Till this were told.' And saying this the seer\n      Went thro' the strait and dreadful pass of death,\n      Not ever to be questioned any more\n      Save on the further side; but when I met\n      Merlin, and ask'd him if these things were truth--\n      The shining dragon and the naked child\n      Descending in the glory of the seas--\n      He laugh'd as is his wont, and answer'd me\n      In riddling triplets of old time, and said:\n\n        \"'Rain, rain, and sun! a rainbow in the sky!\n      A young man will be wiser by and by;\n      An old man's wit may wander ere he die.\n\n        \"'Rain, rain, and sun! a rainbow on the lea!\n      And truth is this to me, and that to thee;\n      And truth or clothed or naked let it be.\n\n        \"'Rain, sun, and rain! and the free blossom blows:\n      Sun, rain, and sun! and where is he who knows?\n      From the great deep to the great deep he goes.'\n\n        \"So Merlin riddling anger'd me; but thou\n      Fear not to give this King thine only child,\n      Guinevere: so great bards of him will sing\n      Hereafter; and dark sayings from of old\n      Ranging and ringing thro' the minds of men,\n      And echo'd by old folk beside their fires\n      For comfort after their wage-work is done,\n      Speak of the King; and Merlin in our time\n      Hath spoken also, not in jest, and sworn\n      Tho' men may wound him that he will not die,\n      But pass, again to come; and then or now\n      Utterly smite the heathen under foot,\n      Till these and all men hail him for their king.\"\n\n        She spake and King Leodogran rejoiced,\n      But musing \"Shall I answer yea or nay?\"\n      Doubted and drowsed, nodded and slept, and saw,\n      Dreaming, a slope of land that ever grew,\n      Field after field, up to a height, the peak\n      Haze-hidden, and thereon a phantom king,\n      Now looming, and now lost: and on the slope\n      The sword rose, the hind fell, the herd was driven,\n      Fire glimpsed; and all the land from roof and rick,\n      In drifts of smoke before a rolling wind,\n      Stream'd to the peak, and mingled with the haze\n      And made it thicker; while the phantom king\n      Sent out at times a voice; and here or there\n      Stood one who pointed toward the voice, the rest\n      Slew on and burnt, crying, \"No king of ours,\n      No son of Uther, and no king of ours\";\n      Till with a wink his dream was changed, the haze\n      Descended, and the solid earth became\n      As nothing, but the king stood out in heaven\n      Crown'd. And Leodogran awoke, and sent\n      Ulfius, and Brastias, and Bedivere,\n      Back to the court of Arthur answering yea.\n\n        Then Arthur charged his warrior whom he loved\n      And honored most, Sir Lancelot, to ride forth\n      And bring the Queen;--and watch'd him from the gates;\n      And Lancelot past away among the flowers,\n      (For then was latter April) and return'd\n      Among the flowers, in May, with Guinevere.\n      To whom arrived, by Dubric the high saint,\n      Chief of the church in Britain, and before\n      The stateliest of her altar-shrines, the King\n      That morn was married, while in stainless white,\n      The fair beginners of a nobler time,\n      And glorying in their vows and him, his knights\n      Stood round him, and rejoicing in his joy.\n      Far shone the fields of May thro' open door,\n      The sacred altar blossom'd white with May,\n      The Sun of May descended on their King,\n      They gazed on all earth's beauty in their Queen,\n      Roll'd incense, and there past along the hymns\n      A voice as of the waters, while the two\n      Sware at the shrine of Christ a deathless love:\n      And Arthur said, \"Behold, thy doom is mine.\n      Let chance what will, I love thee to the death!\"\n      To whom the Queen replied with drooping eyes,\n      \"King and my lord, I love thee to the death!\"\n      And holy Dubric spread his hands and spake,\n      \"Reign ye, and live and love, and make the world\n      Other, and may thy Queen be one with thee,\n      And all this Order of thy Table Round\n      Fulfil the boundless purpose of their King!\"\n\n        So Dubric said; but when they left the shrine\n      Great Lords from Rome before the portal stood,\n      In scornful stillness gazing as they past;\n      Then while they paced a city all on fire\n      With sun and cloth of gold, the trumpets blew,\n      And Arthur's knighthood sang before the King:--\n\n        \"Blow trumpet, for the world is white with May;\n      Blow trumpet, the long night hath roll'd away!\n      Blow thro' the living world--'Let the King reign.'\n\n        \"Shall Rome or heathen rule in Arthur's realm?\n      Flash brand and lance, fall battle-axe upon helm,\n      Fall battle-axe, and flash brand! Let the King reign.\n\n        \"Strike for the King and live! his knights have heard\n      That God hath told the King a secret word.\n      Fall battle-axe, and flash brand! Let the King reign.\n\n        \"Blow trumpet! he will lift us from the dust.\n      Blow trumpet! live the strength and die the lust!\n      Clang battle-axe, and clash brand! Let the King reign.\n\n        \"Strike for the King and die! and if thou diest,\n      The King is King, and ever wills the highest.\n      Clang battle-axe, and clash brand! Let the King reign.\n\n        \"Blow, for our Sun is mighty in his May!\n      Blow, for our Sun is mightier day by day!\n      Clang battle-axe, and clash brand! Let the King reign.\n\n        \"The King will follow Christ, and we the King,\n      In whom high God hath breathed a secret thing.\n      Fall battle-axe, and clash brand! Let the King reign.\"\n\n        So sang the knighthood, moving to their hall.\n      There at the banquet those great Lords from Rome,\n      The slowly-fading mistress of the world,\n      Strode in, and claim'd their tribute as of yore.\n      But Arthur spake, \"Behold, for these have sworn\n      To wage my wars, and worship me their King;\n      The old order changeth, yielding place to new;\n      And we that fight for our fair father Christ,\n      Seeing that ye be grown too weak and old\n      To drive the heathen from your Roman wall,\n      No tribute will we pay\": so those great lords\n      Drew back in wrath, and Arthur strove with Rome.\n\n        And Arthur and his knighthood for a space\n      Were all one will, and thro' that strength the King\n      Drew in the petty princedoms under him,\n      Fought, and in twelve great battles overcame\n      The heathen hordes, and made a realm and reign'd.\n\n\nTHE PASSING OF ARTHUR\n\n      That story which the bold Sir Bedivere,\n      First made and latest left of all the knights,\n      Told, when the man was no more than a voice\n      In the white winter of his age, to those\n      With whom he dwelt, new faces, other minds.\n\n        For on their march to westward, Bedivere,\n      Who slowly paced among the slumbering host,\n      Heard in his tent the moanings of the King:\n\n        \"I found Him in the shining of the stars,\n      I mark'd Him in the flowering of His fields,\n      But in His ways with men I find Him not.\n      I waged His wars, and now I pass and die.\n      O me! for why is all around us here\n      As if some lesser god had made the world,\n      But had not force to shape it as he would,\n      Till the High God behold it from beyond,\n      And enter it, and make it beautiful?\n      Or else as if the world were wholly fair,\n      But that these eyes of men are dense and dim,\n      And have not power to see it as it is:\n      Perchance, because we see not to the close;--\n      For I, being simple, thought to work His will,\n      And have but stricken with the sword in vain;\n      And all whereon I lean'd in wife and friend\n      Is traitor to my peace, and all my realm\n      Reels back into the beast, and is no more.\n      My God, thou hast forgotten me in my death:\n      Nay--God my Christ--I pass but shall not die.\"\n\n        Then, ere that last weird battle in the west,\n      There came on Arthur sleeping, Gawain kill'd\n      In Lancelot's war, the ghost of Gawain blown\n      Along a wandering wind, and past his ear\n      Went shrilling, \"Hollow, hollow all delight!\n      Hail King! tomorrow thou shalt pass away.\n      Farewell! there is an isle of rest for thee.\n      And I am blown along a wandering wind,\n      And hollow, hollow, hollow all delight.\"\n      And fainter onward, like wild birds that change\n      Their season in the night and wail their way\n      From cloud to cloud, down the long wind the dream\n      Shrill'd; but in going mingled with dim cries\n      Far in the moonlit haze among the hills,\n      As of some lonely city sack'd by night,\n      When all is lost, and wife and child with wail\n      Pass to new lords! and Arthur woke and call'd,\n      \"Who spake? A dream. O light upon the wind,\n      Thine, Gawain, was the voice--are these dim cries\n      Thine? or doth all that haunts the waste and wild\n      Mourn, knowing it will go along with me?\"\n\n        This heard the bold Sir Bedivere and spake:\n      \"O me, my King, let pass whatever will,\n      Elves, and the harmless glamour of the field;\n      But in their stead thy name and glory cling\n      To all high places like a golden cloud\n      For ever: but as yet thou shalt not pass.\n      Light was Gawain in life, and light in death\n      Is Gawain, for the ghost is as the man;\n      And care not thou for dreams from him, but rise--\n      I hear the steps of Modred in the west,\n      And with him many of thy people, and knights\n      Once thine, whom thou hast loved, but grosser grown\n      Than heathen, spitting at their vows and thee.\n      Right well in heart they know thee for the King.\n      Arise, go forth and conquer as of old.\"\n\n        Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere:\n      \"Far other is this battle in the west\n      Whereto we move, than when we strove in youth,\n      And brake the petty kings, and fought with Rome,\n      Or thrust the heathen from the Roman wall,\n      And shook him thro' the north. Ill doom is mine\n      To war against my people and my knights.\n      The king who fights his people fights himself.\n      And they my knights, who loved me once, the stroke\n      That strikes them dead is as my death to me.\n      Yet let us hence, and find or feel a way\n      Thro' this blind haze, which ever since I saw\n      One lying in the dust at Almesbury,\n      Hath folded in the passes of the world.\"\n\n        Then rose the King and moved his host by night,\n      And ever push'd Sir Modred, league by league,\n      Back to the sunset bound of Lyonnesse--\n      A land of old upheaven from the abyss\n      By fire, to sink into the abyss again;\n      Where fragments of forgotten peoples dwelt,\n      And the long mountains ended in a coast\n      Of ever-shifting sand, and far away\n      The phantom circle of a moaning sea.\n      There the pursuer could pursue no more,\n      And he that fled no further fly the King;\n      And there, that day when the great light of heaven\n      Burn'd at his lowest in the rolling year,\n      On the waste sand by the waste sea they closed.\n      Nor ever yet had Arthur fought a fight\n      Like this last dim, weird battle of the west.\n      A death-white mist slept over sand and sea:\n      Whereof the chill, to him who breathed it, drew\n      Down with his blood, till all his heart was cold\n      With formless fear; and ev'n on Arthur fell\n      Confusion, since he saw not whom he fought,\n      For friend and foe were shadows in the mist,\n      And friend slew friend not knowing whom he slew;\n      And some had visions out of golden youth,\n      And some beheld the faces of old ghosts\n      Look in upon the battle; and in the mist\n      Was many a noble deed, many a base,\n      And chance and craft and strength in single fights,\n      And ever and anon with host to host\n      Shocks, and the splintering spear, the hard mail hewn,\n      Shield-breakings, and the clash of brands, the crash\n      Of battle-axes on shatter'd helms, and shrieks\n      After the Christ, of those who falling down\n      Look'd up for heaven, and only saw the mist:\n      And shouts of heathen and the traitor knights,\n      Oaths, insult, filth, and monstrous blasphemies,\n      Sweat, writhing, anguish, laboring of the lungs\n      In that close mist, and cryings for the light,\n      Moans of the dying, and voices of the dead.\n\n        Last, as by some one death-bed after wail\n      Of suffering, silence follows, or thro' death\n      Or deathlike swoon, thus over all that shore,\n      Save for some whisper of the seething seas,\n      A dead hush fell; but when the dolorous day\n      Grew drearier toward twilight falling, came\n      A bitter wind, clear from the North, and blew\n      The mist aside, and with that wind the tide\n      Rose, and the pale King glanced across the field\n      Of battle: but no man was moving there;\n      Nor any cry of Christian heard thereon,\n      Nor yet of heathen; only the wan wave\n      Brake in among dead faces, to and fro\n      Swaying the helpless hands, and up and down\n      Tumbling the hollow helmets of the fallen,\n      And shiver'd brands that once had fought with Rome,\n      And rolling far along the gloomy shores\n      The voice of days of old and days to be.\n\n        Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere,\n      And whiter than the mist that all day long\n      Had held the field of battle was the King:\n        \"Hearest thou this great voice that shakes the world\n      And wastes the narrow realm whereon we move,\n      And beats upon the faces of the dead,\n      My dead, as tho' they had not died for me?--\n      O Bedivere, for on my heart hath fall'n\n      Confusion, till I know not what I am,\n      Nor whence I am, nor whether I be King.\n      Behold, I seem but King among the dead.\"\n\n        Then spake the bold Sir Bedivere: \"My King,\n      King everywhere! and so the dead have kings,\n      There also will I worship thee as King.\n      Yet still thy life is whole, and still I live\n      Who love thee; but who hates thee, he that brought\n      The heathen back among us, yonder stands,\n      Modred, unharm'd, the traitor of thine house.\"\n\n        Then spake the King: \"My house had been my doom,\n      But call not thou this traitor of my house\n      Who hath but dwelt beneath one roof with me.\n      My house are rather they who sware my vows,\n      Yea, even while they brake them, own'd me King.\n      And well for thee, saying in my dark hour,\n      When all the purport of my throne hath fail'd,\n      That quick or dead thou holdest me for King.\n      King am I, whatsoever be their cry;\n      And one last act of kinghood shalt thou see\n      Yet, ere I pass.\" And uttering this the King\n      Made at the man: then Modred smote his liege\n      Hard on that helm which many a heathen sword\n      Had beaten thin; while Arthur at one blow,\n      Striking the last stroke with Excalibur,\n      Slew him, and but slain himself, he fell.\n\n        So all day long the noise of battle roll'd\n      Among the mountains by the winter sea;\n      Until King Arthur's Table, man by man,\n      Had fall'n in Lyonnesse about their lord,\n      King Arthur. Then, because his wound was deep,\n      The bold Sir Bedivere uplifted him,\n      And bore him to a chapel nigh the field,\n      A broken chancel with a broken cross,\n      That stood on a dark strait of barren land:\n      On one side lay the Ocean, and on one\n      Lay a great water, and the moon was full.\n\n        Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere:\n      \"The sequel of today unsolders all\n      The goodliest fellowship of famous knights\n      Whereof this world holds record. Such a sleep\n      They sleep--the men I loved. I think that we\n      Shall never more, at any future time,\n      Delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds,\n      Walking about the gardens and the halls\n      Of Camelot, as in the days that were.\n      I perish by this people which I made,--\n      Tho' Merlin sware that I should come again\n      To rule once more; but, let what will be, be,\n      I am so deeply smitten thro' the helm\n      That without help I cannot last till morn.\n      Thou therefore take my brand Excalibur,\n      Which was my pride: for thou rememberest how\n      In those old days, one summer noon, an arm\n      Rose up from out the bosom of the lake,\n      Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful,\n      Holding the sword--and how I row'd across\n      And took it, and have worn it, like a king;\n      And, wheresoever I am sung or told\n      In after-time, this also shall be known:\n      But now delay not: take Excalibur,\n      And fling him far into the middle mere:\n      Watch what thou seest, and lightly bring me word.\"\n\n        To him replied the bold Sir Bedivere:\n      \"It is not meet, Sir King, to leave thee thus,\n      Aidless, alone, and smitten thro' the helm--\n      A little thing may harm a wounded man:\n      Yet I thy hest will all perform at full,\n      Watch what I see, and lightly bring thee word.\"\n\n        So saying, from the ruin'd shrine he stept,\n      And in the moon athwart the place of tombs,\n      Where lay the mighty bones of ancient men,\n      Old knights, and over them the sea-wind sang\n      Shrill, chill, with flakes of foam. He, stepping down\n      By zigzag paths, and juts of pointed rock,\n      Came on the shining levels of the lake.\n\n        There drew he forth the brand Excalibur,\n      And o'er him, drawing it, the winter moon,\n      Brightening the skirts of a long cloud, ran forth\n      And sparkled keen with frost against the hilt:\n      For all the haft twinkled with diamond sparks,\n      Myriads of topaz-lights, and jacinth-work\n      Of subtlest jewellery. He gazed so long\n      That both his eyes were dazzled as he stood,\n      This way and that dividing the swift mind,\n      In act to throw: but at the last it seem'd\n      Better to leave Excalibur conceal'd\n      There in the many-knotted water-flags,\n      That whistled stiff and dry about the marge.\n      So strode he back slow to the wounded King.\n\n        Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere:\n      \"Hast thou perform'd my mission which I gave?\"\n      What is it thou hast seen? or what hast heard?\n\n        And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere:\n      \"I heard the ripple washing in the reeds,\n      And the wild water lapping on the crag.\"\n\n        To whom replied King Arthur, faint and pale:\n      \"Thou hast betray'd thy nature and thy name,\n      Not rendering true answer, as beseem'd\n      Thy fealty, nor like a noble knight:\n      For surer sign had follow'd, either hand,\n      Or voice, or else a motion of the mere.\n      This is a shameful thing for men to lie.\n      Yet now, I charge thee, quickly go again,\n      As thou art lief and dear, and do the thing\n      I bade thee, watch, and lightly bring me word.\"\n\n        Then went Sir Bedivere the second time\n      Across the ridge, and paced beside the mere,\n      Counting the dewy pebbles, fix'd in thought;\n      But when he saw the wonder of the hilt,\n      How curiously and strangely chased, he smote\n      His palms together, and he cried aloud:\n\n        \"And if indeed I cast the brand away,\n      Surely a precious thing, one worthy note,\n      Should thus be lost for ever from the earth,\n      Which might have pleased the eyes of many men.\n      What good should follow this, if this were done?\n      What harm, undone? Deep harm to disobey,\n      Seeing obedience is the bond of rule.\n      Were it well to obey then, if a king demand\n      An act unprofitable, against himself?\n      The King is sick, and knows not what he does.\n      What record, or what relic of my lord\n      Should be to after-time, but empty breath\n      And rumors of a doubt? But were this kept,\n      Stored in some treasure-house of mighty kings,\n      Some one might show it at a joust of arms,\n      Saying, 'King Arthur's sword, Excalibur,\n      Wrought by the lonely maiden of the Lake.\n      Nine years she wrought it, sitting in the deeps\n      Upon the hidden bases of the hills.'\n      So might some old man speak in the after-time\n      To all the people, winning reverence.\n      But now much honor and much fame were lost.\"\n\n        So spake he, clouded with his own conceit,\n      And hid Excalibur the second time,\n      And so strode back slow to the wounded King.\n\n        Then spoke King Arthur, breathing heavily:\n      \"What is it thou hast seen? or what hast heard?\"\n\n        And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere:\n      \"I heard the water lapping on the crag,\n      And the long ripple washing in the reeds.\"\n\n        To whom replied King Arthur, much in wrath:\n      \"Ah, miserable and unkind, untrue,\n      Unknightly, traitor-hearted! Woe is me!\n      Authority forgets a dying king,\n      Laid widow'd of the power in his eye\n      That bow'd the will. I see thee what thou art,\n      For thou, the latest-left of all my knights,\n      In whom should meet the offices of all,\n      Thou wouldst betray me for the precious hilt;\n      Either from lust of gold, or like a girl\n      Valuing the giddy pleasure of the eyes.\n      Yet, for a man may fail in duty twice,\n      And the third time may prosper, get thee hence:\n      But, if thou spare to fling Excalibur,\n      I will arise and slay thee with my hands.\"\n\n        Then quickly rose Sir Bedivere, and ran,\n      And, leaping down the ridges lightly, plunged\n      Among the bulrush beds, and clutch'd the sword,\n      And strongly wheel'd and threw it. The great brand\n      Made lightnings in the splendor of the moon,\n      And flashing round and round, and whirl'd in an arch,\n      Shot like a streamer of the northern morn,\n      Seen where the moving isles of winter shook\n      By night, with noises of the Northern Sea.\n      So flash'd and fell the brand Excalibur:\n      But ere he dipt the surface, rose an arm\n      Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful,\n      And caught him by the hilt, and brandish'd him\n      Three times, and drew him under in the mere.\n      And lightly went the other to the King.\n\n        Then spoke King Arthur, drawing thicker breath:\n      \"Now see I by thine eyes that this is done.\n      Speak out: what is it thou hast heard, or seen?\"\n\n        And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere:\n      \"Sir King, I closed mine eyelids, lest the gems\n      Should blind my purpose, for I never saw,\n      Nor shall see, here or elsewhere, till I die,\n      Not tho' I live three lives of mortal men,\n      So great a miracle as yonder hilt.\n      Then with both hands I flung him, wheeling him;\n      But when I look'd again, behold an arm,\n      Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful,\n      That caught him by the hilt and brandish'd him\n      Three times, and drew him under in the mere.\"\n\n        And answer made King Arthur, breathing hard:\n      \"My end draws nigh; 't is time that I were gone.\n      Make broad thy shoulders to receive my weight,\n      And bear me to the margin; yet I fear\n      My wound hath taken cold, and I shall die.\"\n\n        So saying, from the pavement he half rose,\n      Slowly, with pain, reclining on his arm,\n      And looking wistfully with wide blue eyes\n      As in a picture. Him Sir Bedivere\n      Remorsefully regarded thro' his tears,\n      And would have spoken, but he found not words;\n      Then took with care, and kneeling on one knee,\n      O'er both his shoulders drew the languid hands,\n      And rising bore him thro' the place of tombs.\n\n        But, as he walk'd, King Arthur panted hard,\n      Like one that feels a nightmare on his bed\n      When all the house is mute. So sigh'd the King,\n      Muttering and murmuring at his ear, \"Quick, quick!\n      I fear it is too late, and I shall die.\"\n      But the other swiftly strode from ridge to ridge,\n      Clothed with his breath, and looking, as he walk'd,\n      Larger than human on the frozen hills.\n      He heard the deep behind him, and a cry\n      Before. His own thought drove him like a goad.\n      Dry clash'd his harness in the icy caves\n      And barren chasms, and all to left and right\n      The bare black cliff clang'd round him, as he based\n      His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang\n      Sharp-smitten with the dint of armed heels\n      And on a sudden, lo! the level lake,\n      And the long glories of the winter moon.\n\n        Then saw they how there hove a dusky barge,\n      Dark as a funeral scarf from stem to stern,\n      Beneath them; and descending they were ware\n      That all the decks were dense with stately forms,\n      Black-stoled, black-hooded, like a dream--by these\n      Three Queens with crowns of gold: and from them rose\n      A cry that shiver'd to the tingling stars,\n      And, as it were one voice, an agony\n      Of lamentation, like a wind that shrills\n      All night in a waste land, where no one comes,\n      Or hath come, since the making of the world.\n\n        Then murmur'd Arthur, \"Place me in the barge.\"\n      So to the barge they came. There those three Queens\n      Put forth their hands, and took the King, and wept.\n      But she, that rose the tallest of them all\n      And fairest, laid his head upon her lap,\n      And loosed the shatter'd casque, and chafed his hands,\n      And call'd him by his name, complaining loud,\n      And dropping bitter tears against a brow\n      Striped with dark blood: for all his face was white\n      And colorless, and like the wither'd moon\n      Smote by the fresh beam of the springing east;\n      And all his greaves and cuisses dash'd with drops\n      Of onset; and the light and lustrous curls--\n      That made his forehead like a rising sun\n      High from the da\u00efs-throne--were parch'd with dust;\n      Or, clotted into points and hanging loose,\n      Mix'd with the knightly growth that fringed his lips.\n      So like a shatter'd column lay the King;\n      Not like that Arthur who, with lance in rest,\n      From spur to plume a star of tournament,\n      Shot thro' the lists at Camelot, and charged\n      Before the eyes of ladies and of kings.\n\n        Then loudly cried the bold Sir Bedivere:\n      \"Ah! my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go?\n      Where shall I hide my forehead and my eyes?\n      For now I see the true old times are dead,\n      When every morning brought a noble chance,\n      And every chance brought out a noble knight.\n      Such times have been not since the light that led\n      The holy Elders with the gift of myrrh.\n      But now the whole Round Table is dissolved\n      Which was an image of the mighty world\n      And I, the last, go forth companionless,\n      And the days darken round me, and the years,\n      Among new men, strange faces, other minds.\"\n\n        And slowly answer'd Arthur from the barge:\n      \"The old order changeth, yielding place to new,\n      And God fulfils himself in many ways,\n      Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.\n      Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me?\n      I have lived my life, and that which I have done\n      May He within himself make pure! but thou,\n      If thou shouldst never see my face again,\n      Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer\n      Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice\n      Rise like a fountain for me night and day.\n      For what are men better than sheep or goats\n      That nourish a blind life within the brain,\n      If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer\n      Both for themselves and those who call them friend?\n      For so the whole round earth is every way\n      Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.\n      But now farewell. I am going a long way\n      With these thou seest--if indeed I go\n      (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt)--\n      To the island-valley of Avilion;\n      Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow,\n      Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies\n      Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard lawns\n      And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea,\n      Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.\"\n\n        So said he, and the barge with oar and sail\n      Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted swan\n      That, fluting a wild carol ere her death,\n      Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood\n      With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir Bedivere\n      Revolving many memories, till the hull\n      Look'd one black dot against the verge of dawn,\n      And on the mere the wailing died away.\n\n        But when that moan had past for evermore,\n      The stillness of the dead world's winter dawn\n      Amazed him, and he groan'd, \"The King is gone.\"\n      And therewithal came on him the weird rhyme,\n      \"From the great deep to the great deep he goes.\"\n\n        Whereat he slowly turn'd and slowly clomb\n      The last hard footstep of that iron crag;\n      Thence mark'd the black hull moving yet, and cried,\n      \"He passes to be King among the dead,\n      And after healing of his grievous wound\n      He comes again; but--if he come no more--\n      O me, be yon dark Queens in yon black boat,\n      Who shriek'd and wail'd, the three whereat we gazed\n      On that high day, when, clothed with living light,\n      They stood before his throne in silence, friends\n      Of Arthur, who should help him at his need?\"\n\n        Then from the dawn it seem'd there came, but faint,\n      As from beyond the limit of the world,\n      Like the last echo born of a great cry,\n      Sounds, as if some fair city were one voice\n      Around a king returning from his wars.\n\n        Thereat once more he moved about, and clomb\n      Ev'n to the highest he could climb, and saw,\n      Straining his eyes beneath an arch of hand,\n      Or thought he saw, the speck that bare the King,\n      Down that long water opening on the deep\n      Somewhere far off, pass on and on, and go\n      From less to less and vanish into light.\n      And the new sun rose bringing the new year.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GREAT KNIGHT SIEGFRIED\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived in the Netherlands, in Xante, a wonderful\ncastle on the river Rhine, a mighty king and queen. Siegmund and\nSieglinde were their names, and far and wide were they known. Yet\ntheir son, the glorious hero Siegfried, was still more widely\ncelebrated. Even as a boy he performed so many daring feats that his\nbravery was talked of in all German lands.\n\nThe two most remarkable of these feats were the slaying of a frightful\nmonster known as the \"Dragon of the Linden-tree\" and the capture of\nthe rich treasure of the Nibelungs. The hoard was an ancient one and\nhad this wonderful property--that no matter how much was taken from it\nthe quantity was never less.\n\nAll this happened before Siegfried reached the age of manhood. When it\nwas time for the youth to be knighted, King Siegmund sent invitations\nfar and wide throughout the country, and a great celebration took\nplace. Siegfried was solemnly girded with a sword and permitted to\ntake his place among the warriors of the kingdom. Then there was a\ngreat tournament, a wonderful occasion for Siegfried, who came off\nvictor in every encounter, although many tried warriors matched their\nskill against his. Altogether the festivities lasted seven whole days.\n\nAfter the guests had departed, Siegfried asked permission of his\nparents to travel into Burgundy to seek as bride for himself\nKriemhild, the maiden of whose great beauty and loveliness he had\nheard.\n\n[Illustration: SIEGFRIED CAME OFF VICTOR IN EVERY ENCOUNTER]\n\nGunther, the king of Burgundy, recognizing the young hero, went out\nto meet him and politely inquired the cause of his visit. Imagine his\ndismay when Siegfried proposed a single combat, in which the victor\nmight claim the land and allegiance of the vanquished. Neither Gunther\nnor any of his knights would accept the challenge; but Gunther and his\nbrother hastened forward with proffers of unbounded hospitality.\n\nSiegfried lingered a year in Gunther's palace, and though he never\ncaught a glimpse of the fair maid Kriemhild, she often admired his\nstrength and manly beauty from behind the palace windows.\n\nOne day a herald arrived from King Ludeger of Saxony and King Ludegast\nof Denmark, announcing an invasion. Gunther was dismayed; but the\nbrave Siegfried came to the rescue, saying that if Gunther would give\nhim only one thousand brave men he would repel the enemy. This was\ndone and the little army marched into Saxony and routed the twenty\nthousand valiant soldiers of the enemy's force. All the men did brave\nwork, but Siegfried was the bravest of them all.\n\nWhen the hero returned, a great celebration was held in his honor, and\nKriemhild, Ute and all the ladies of the court were invited to be\npresent at the tournament. It was there that Siegfried first saw the\nfair maiden. Her beauty was more wonderful than he had ever been able\nto imagine. What was his delight, then, to learn that he had been\nappointed her escort.\n\nOn the way to the tournament Kriemhild murmured her thanks for the\ngood work Siegfried had done for her, and Siegfried vowed that he\nwould always serve her brothers because of his great love for her.\n\nSoon after the tournament Gunther announced his intention of winning\nfor his wife, Brunhild, the princess of Issland, who had vowed to\nmarry no man but the one who could surpass her in jumping, throwing a\nstone and casting a spear. Gunther proposed that Siegfried go with\nhim, promising him, in return for his services, the hand of Kriemhild.\nSuch an offer was not to be despised, and Siegfried immediately\nconsented, advising Gunther to take only Hagen and Dankwart with him.\n\nGunther and the three knights set out in a small vessel. Siegfried\nbade his companions represent him as Gunther's vassal only; but\nBrunhild, seeing his giant figure and guessing its strength, imagined\nthat he had come to woo her. She was dismayed, therefore, when she\nheard that he had held the stirrup for Gunther to dismount. When he\nentered her hall, she advanced to meet him; but he drew aside, saying\nthat honor was due to his master Gunther.\n\nBrunhild ordered preparations for the evening contest, and Gunther,\nHagen and Dankwart trembled when they saw four men staggering under\nthe weight of Brunhild's shield and three more staggering under the\nweight of her spear. Siegfried, meantime, had donned his magic cloud\ncloak and bade Gunther rely upon his aid.\n\nThe combat opened. Brunhild poised her spear and flung it with such\nforce that both heroes staggered; but before she could cry out her\nvictory Siegfried had caught the spear and flung it back with such\nviolence that the princess fell and was obliged to acknowledge defeat.\n\nUndaunted, she caught up a huge stone, flung it far into the distance,\nand then leaping, alighted beside it. No sooner had she done this than\nSiegfried seized the stone, flung it still farther, and lifting\nGunther by his broad girdle bounded through the air with him and\nalighted beyond the stone. Then Brunhild knew that she had found her\nmaster.\n\n\"Come hither all my kinsmen and followers,\" she said, \"and acknowledge\nmy superior. I am no longer your mistress. Gunther is your lord.\"\n\nThe wedding was fitly celebrated and then Gunther and his bride were\nescorted back to Issland by a thousand Nibelung warriors whom\nSiegfried had gathered for the purpose. A great banquet was given upon\ntheir return, at which the impatient Siegfried ventured to remind\nGunther of his promise. Brunhild protested that Gunther should not\ngive his only sister to a menial, but Gunther gave his consent and the\nmarriage took place immediately. The two bridal couples then sat side\nby side. Kriemhild's face was very happy; Brunhild's was dark and\nfrowning.\n\nYou see, Brunhild was not pleased with the husband she had gained and\npreferred Siegfried. Alone with her husband the first night she bound\nhim with her girdle and suspended him from a corner of her apartment.\nThere she let him hang till morning. Released, Gunther sought out\nSiegfried and told him of the disgraceful affair.\n\nThe following evening Siegfried again donned his cloud cloak and\nentered the apartments of Gunther and Brunhild. As he entered he blew\nout the lights, caught Brunhild's hands and wrestled with her until\nshe pleaded for mercy.\n\n\"Great king, forbear,\" she said. \"I will henceforth be thy dutiful\nwife. I will do nothing to anger thee. Thou art my lord and master.\"\n\nHaving accomplished his purpose, Siegfried left the room, but first he\ntook Brunhild's girdle and her ring. These he carried with him when\nafter the festivities he and Kriemhild returned to Xante on the Rhine.\n\nSiegmund and Sieglinde abdicated in favor of their son, and for ten\nyears Siegfried and Kriemhild reigned happily. Then they were invited\nto pay a visit to Gunther and Brunhild. They accepted, leaving their\nlittle son Gunther in the care of the Nibelungs.\n\nBrunhild received Kriemhild graciously, but at heart she was jealous\nand wanted Kriemhild to acknowledge her as superior. One day they had\na hot dispute, Kriemhild declaring that her husband was without peer\nin the world, and Brunhild retorting that since he was Gunther's\nvassal he must be his inferior. Kriemhild made an angry avowal that\nshe would publicly assert her rank.\n\nBoth queens parted in a rage and proceeded to attire themselves in the\nmost gorgeous costumes they possessed. Accompanied by their\nladies-in-waiting they met at the church door. Brunhild bade Kriemhild\nstand aside while she entered, and Kriemhild would not. A storm of\nwords followed. Finally Kriemhild insulted the other queen by\ndeclaring that Brunhild was not a faithful wife.\n\n\"You loved Siegfried better than Gunther,\" she declared. \"Here are\nyour girdle and ring which my husband gave to me.\" So saying, she\ndisplayed the girdle and ring which Siegfried had unwisely given her\nwhen he confided to her the story of Gunther's wooing.\n\nBrunhild summoned Gunther to defend her, and he sent for Siegfried.\nThe latter publicly swore that his wife had not told the truth and\nthat Brunhild had never loved him or he her.\n\n\"This quarrel is disgraceful,\" he said. \"I will teach my wife better\nmanners for the future.\" Gunther promised to do likewise.\n\nThe guests departed, but Brunhild still smarted from the insult and\nlonged for revenge. Hagen, finding her in tears, undertook to avenge\nher. He continually reminded Gunther of the insult his wife had\nreceived. The king at first paid no attention to the insinuations, but\nat last he consented to an assault on Siegfried.\n\nHe asked the great hero to help him in a war which he pretended his\nold enemy Ludeger was about to bring upon him. Siegfried consented,\nand Kriemhild, because she loved her husband very deeply, was much\ntroubled. In her distress she confided to Hagen that Siegfried was\ninvulnerable except in one spot, between the shoulder blades, where a\nlime leaf had rested and the dragon's blood had not touched him.\n\n\"Never fear,\" said Hagen, \"I myself will help to protect him. You sew\na tiny cross on Siegfried's doublet, just over the vulnerable spot,\nthat I may be the better able to shield him.\"\n\nKriemhild promised to obey his instructions, and Hagen departed, well\npleased, to carry the news to Gunther.\n\nAt last the day came for Siegfried to leave his queen. He talked to\nher and comforted her and kissed her rosy lips.\n\n\"Dear heart,\" he said, \"why all these tears? I shall not be gone\nlong.\"\n\nBut she was thinking of what she had told Hagen, and wept and wept and\nwould not be comforted.\n\nWhen Siegfried joined Gunther's party he was surprised to learn that\nthe rebellion had been quelled and that he was invited to join in a\nhunt instead of a fray.\n\nSo he joined the hunting party. Now Siegfried was as great a hunter as\nhe was a warrior, and while the noonday meal was being prepared he\nscoured the forest, slew several wild boars, caught a bear alive and\nin a spirit of mischief turned him loose among the guests. Then, tired\nand thirsty, he sat down, calling for a drink.\n\nNot a bit of wine was at hand; it had all been carried to another part\nof the forest. Hagen pointed out a spring near by and Siegfried\nproposed a race, offering to run in full armor while the others ran\nwithout armor or weapons. In spite of the handicap, Siegfried reached\nthe spring first.\n\nAlways polite, Siegfried bade his host, Gunther, drink first, while he\nhimself disarmed. Siegfried then stooped over the spring to drink, and\nas he stooped, Hagen, gliding behind him, drove his spear into his\nbody at the exact spot where Kriemhild had embroidered the fatal mark.\n\nSiegfried struggled to avenge himself, but found nothing but his\nshield within reach. This he flung with such force at his murderer\nthat it knocked him down. Exhausted by the effort, the hero fell back\nupon the grass, cursing the treachery of Gunther and Hagen.\n\nCurses soon gave way to thoughts of Kriemhild, however, and overcoming\nhis anger he recommended her to the care of her brother Gunther. Then\nthe great hero died.\n\nThe hunting party agreed to carry the body back to Worms and say that\nthey had found it in the forest. But Hagen, bolder than the rest,\nordered the bearers to deposit the corpse at Kriemhild's door, where\nshe would see it when she went out for early mass the next morning. As\nhe expected, Kriemhild discovered her dead lord and fell senseless\nupon him. Recovering, she cried out that he had been murdered: no\nfoeman in a fair fight could have killed the glorious knight.\n\nA great funeral took place and Siegfried's body was laid in state in\nthe cathedral at Worms. Thither many came to view it and to express\ntheir sympathy for the widow Kriemhild. The latter, suspecting\ntreachery, refused to listen to Gunther until he promised that all of\nthose present at the hunt should touch the body.\n\n\"Blood will flow afresh at the murderer's touch,\" he said.\n\nOne by one the hunters advanced, and when Hagen touched the great\nwarrior's form, lo, the blood flowed again from his wounds. At this\nthe Nibelung warriors wanted to avenge the dead, but Kriemhild would\nnot permit them to interrupt the funeral. So the ceremonies were\nconcluded and Siegfried's body was laid to rest.\n\n\n\n\nLOHENGRIN AND ELSA THE BEAUTIFUL\n\n\nThe young Duchess of Brabant, Elsa the Beautiful, had gone into the\nwoods hunting, and becoming separated from her attendants, sat down to\nrest under a wide-branching linden-tree.\n\nShe was sorely troubled, for many lords and princes were asking for\nher hand in marriage. More urgent than all the others was the\ninvincible hero, Count Telramund, her former guardian, who since the\ndeath of her father had ruled over the land with masterly hand. Now\nthe duke, her father, on his death-bed had promised Telramund that he\nmight have Elsa for wife, should she be willing; and Telramund was\ncontinually reminding her of this. But Elsa blushed with shame at the\nmere thought of such a union, for Telramund was a rough warrior, as\nmuch hated for his cruelty as he was feared for his strength. To make\nmatters worse he was now at the court of the chosen King Henry of\nSaxony, threatening her with war and even worse calamities.\n\nIn the shade of the linden Elsa thought of all this, and pitied her\nown loneliness in that no brother or friend stood at her side to help\nher. Then the sweet singing of birds seemed to comfort her, and she\ndropped into a gentle sleep. As she dreamed it seemed to her that a\nyoung knight stepped out of the depths of the forest. Holding up a\nsmall silver bell, he spoke in friendly tones:\n\n\"If you should need my help, just ring this.\"\n\nElsa tried to take the trinket, but she could neither rise nor reach\nthe outstretched hand. Then she awoke.\n\nThinking over the apparition Elsa noted a falcon circling over her\nhead. It came nearer and finally settled on her shoulder. Around his\nneck hung a bell exactly like that she had seen in the dream. She\nloosened it, and as she did so the bird rose and flew away. But she\nstill held the little bell in her hand, and in her soul was fresh hope\nand peace.\n\nWhen she returned to the castle she found there a message, bidding her\nappear before the king in Cologne on the Rhine. Filled with confidence\nin the protection of higher powers, she did not hesitate to obey. In\ngorgeous costume, with many followers, she set out.\n\nKing Henry was a man who loved justice and exercised it, but his\nkingdom was in constant danger from inroads by wild Huns, and for this\nreason he wished to do whatever would win the favor of the powerful\nCount Telramund. When, however, he saw Elsa in all her beauty and\ninnocence he hesitated in his purpose.\n\nThe plaintiff brought forward three men who testified that the duchess\nhad entered into a secret union with one of her vassals. Only two of\nthese men were shown to be perfidious; the testimony of the other\nseemed valid, though this was not enough to condemn her.\n\nThen Telramund seized his sword, crying out that God Himself should be\nthe judge, and that a duel should decide the matter. So a duel was\narranged to take place three days later.\n\nElsa cast her eyes around the circle of nobles, but saw no one grasp\nhis sword in defense of her innocence. Fear of the mighty warrior\nTelramund filled them all.\n\nRemembering the little bell, she drew it forth from her pocket and\nrang it. The clear tones broke the stillness, grew louder and louder\nuntil they reached even the distant mountains.\n\n\"My champion will appear in the contest,\" she said; whereupon the\ncount let forth such a mocking laugh that the hearts of all were\nfilled with intense fear.\n\nThe day of the contest was at hand. The king sat on his high throne\nand watched the majestic river that sent its mighty waters through the\nvalley. Princes and brave knights were gathered together. Before them\nstood Telramund, clad in armor, and at his side the accused Elsa,\nadorned with every grace that Nature can bestow.\n\nThree times the mighty hero challenged some one to come forward as a\nchampion for the accused girl, but no one stirred. Then arose from the\nRhine the sound of sweet music; something silvery gleamed in the\ndistance, and as it came nearer it was plain that it was a swan with\nsilver feathers. With a silver chain he was pulling a small ship, in\nwhich lay sleeping a knight clad in bright armor.\n\nWhen the bark landed, the knight awoke, rose, and blew three times on\na golden horn. This was the signal that he took up the challenge.\nQuickly he strode into the lists.\n\n\"Your name and descent?\" cried the herald.\n\n\"My name is Lohengrin,\" answered the stranger, \"my origin royal: more\nit is not necessary to tell.\"\n\n\"Enough,\" broke in the king, \"nobility is written on your brow.\"\n\nTrumpets gave the signal for the fight to begin. Telramund's strokes\nfell thick as hail, but suddenly the stranger knight rose and with one\nfearful stroke split the count's helmet and cut his head.\n\n\"God has decided,\" cried the king. \"His judgment is right; but you,\nnoble knight, will help us in the campaign against the barbarian\nhordes and will be the leader of the detachment which the fair duchess\nwill send from Brabant.\"\n\nGladly Lohengrin consented, and amid cries of delight from the\nassembled people he rode over to Elsa, who greeted him as her\ndeliverer.\n\nLohengrin escorted Elsa back to Brabant, and on the way love awoke in\ntheir hearts, and they knew that they were destined for each other. In\nthe castle of Antwerp they were pledged, and a few weeks later the\nmarriage took place. As the bridal couple were leaving the cathedral,\nLohengrin said to Elsa:\n\n\"One thing I must ask of you, and that is that you never inquire\nconcerning my origin, for in the hour that you put that question must\nI surely part from you.\"\n\nIt was not long after the ceremony that the cry to arms came from King\nHenry, and Elsa accompanied her husband and his troops to Cologne,\nwhere all the counts of the kingdom were assembled. Here there were\nmany inquiries concerning Lohengrin, and when none seemed to know of\nhis origin, some jealously claimed that he was the son of a heathen\nmagician, and that he gained his victories by the power of black arts.\n\nElsa, who had heard rumors of these charges, was deeply grieved; for\nshe knew the noble heart of her husband. He had even relieved her\nfears for his safety by the assurance that he was under the protection\nof powers higher than human.\n\nBut she could not banish the evil rumors from her mind, and forgetting\nthe warning her husband had given her on the day of her marriage, she\ndropped to her knees and asked him concerning his birth.\n\n\"Dear wife,\" he cried in great distress, \"now will I tell to you and\nto the king and to all the assembled princes, what up to this time I\nhave kept secret; but know that the time of our parting is at hand.\"\n\nThen the hero led his trembling wife before the king and his nobles\nwho were assembled on the banks of the Rhine.\n\n\"The son of Parsifal am I,\" he said, \"the son of Parsifal, the keeper\nof the Holy Grail. Gladly would I have helped you, O King, in your\nfight against the barbarians, but an unavoidable fate calls me away.\nYou will, however, be victorious, and under your descendants will\nGermany become a powerful nation.\"\n\nWhen he finished speaking there was a deep silence, and then, as upon\nhis arrival, there rose the sound of music--not joyful this time, but\nsolemn, like a chant at the grave of the dead. It came nearer and\nagain the swan and the boat appeared.\n\n\"Farewell, dear one,\" Lohengrin cried, folding his wife in his arms.\n\"Too dearly did I hold you and your pleasant land of earth; now a\nhigher duty calls me.\"\n\nWeeping, Elsa clung to him; but the swan song sounded louder, like a\nwarning. He tore himself free and stepped into the boat. Was it the\nship of death and destruction, or only the ship that carried the\nblessed to the sacred place of the Grail? No one knew.\n\nElsa, lonely and sad, did not live long after the separation. Her only\nhope was that she would be reunited to her dear husband; and she\nparted willingly with her own life, as other children of earth have\ndone when they have lost all that they held most precious.\n\n\n\n\nFRITHIOF THE BOLD\n\n\nFrithiof was a Norwegian hero, grandson of Viking, who was the largest\nand strongest man of his time. Viking had sailed the sea in a dragon\nship, meeting with many adventures, and Thorsten, Frithiof's father,\nhad likewise sailed abroad, capturing many priceless treasures and\nmaking a great name for himself.\n\nFrithiof was entrusted to the care of Hilding, his foster father, and\nin his care, also, were Halfdan and Helg\u00e9, King B\u00e9l\u00e9's sons, and, some\nyears later, their little sister, Ingeborg. Frithiof and Ingeborg\nbecame firm friends, and as the lad increased in bravery and strength,\nthe girl increased in beauty and loveliness of soul. Hilding, noticing\nhow each day they became fonder of each other, called Frithiof to him\nand bade him remember that he was only a humble subject and could\nnever hope to wed Ingeborg, the king's only daughter, descended from\nthe great god Odin. The warning, however, came too late, for Frithiof\nalready loved the fair maiden, and vowed that he would have her for\nhis bride at any cost.\n\nSoon after this the king died, leaving his kingdom to his two sons and\ngiving instructions that his funeral mound should be erected in sight\nof that of his dear friend Thorsten, so that their spirits might not\nbe separated even in death. Then Ingeborg went to live with her\nbrothers, the Kings of Sogn, while Frithiof retired to his own home at\nFramnas, closed in by the mountains and the sea.\n\nFrithiof was now one of the wealthiest and most envied of land-owners.\nHis treasures were richer by far than those of any king.\n\nIn the spring he held a great celebration, which the kings of Sogn\nand their sister Ingeborg, among many other guests, attended. Frithiof\nand Ingeborg were much together, and Frithiof was very happy to learn\nthat Ingeborg returned his affection.\n\nGreat was his grief when the time came for her to sail away. Not long\nhad she been gone, however, when he vowed to Bj\u00f6rn, his chief\ncompanion, that he would follow after her and ask for her hand. His\nship was prepared and soon he touched the shore near the temple of the\ngod Balder.\n\nHis request was not granted and Helg\u00e9 dismissed him contemptuously. In\na rage at the insult Frithiof lifted his sword; but remembering that\nhe stood on consecrated ground near B\u00e9l\u00e9's tomb, he spared the king,\nonly cutting his heavy shield in two to show the strength of his\nblade.\n\nSoon after his departure another suitor, the aged King Ring of Norway\nsought the hand of Ingeborg in marriage, and being refused, collected\nan army and prepared to make war on Helg\u00e9 and Halfdan.\n\nThen the two brothers were glad to send a messenger after Frithiof,\nasking his aid. The hero, still angry, refused; but he hastened at\nonce to Ingeborg. He found her in tears at the shrine of Balder, and\nalthough it was considered a sin for a man and woman to exchange words\nin the sacred temple, he spoke to her, again making known his love.\n\nThe kings, her brothers, were away at war, but Frithiof stayed near\nIngeborg, and when they returned, promised to free them from the\noppression of Sigurd Ring if in return they would promise him the hand\nof their sister. But the kings had heard of how Frithiof had spoken to\nIngeborg in the temple, and although they feared Sigurd they would not\ngrant the request. Instead he was condemned in punishment to sail away\nto the Orkney Islands to claim tribute from the king Angantyr.\n\nFrithiof departed in his ship Ellida, and Ingeborg stayed behind,\nweeping bitterly. And as soon as the vessel was out of sight the\nbrothers sent for two witches--Heid and Ham--bidding them stir up such\na tempest on the sea that even the god-given ship Ellida could not\nwithstand its fury.\n\nBut no tempest could frighten the brave Frithiof. Singing a cheery\nsong he stood at the helm, caring nothing for the waves that raged\nabout the ship. He comforted his crew, and then climbed the mast to\nkeep a sharp lookout for danger.\n\nFrom there he spied a huge whale, upon which the two witches were\nseated, delighted at the tempest they had stirred up. Speaking to his\ngood ship, which could both hear and obey, he bade it run down the\nwhale and the witches.\n\nThis Ellida did. Whale and witches sank; the sea grew red with their\nblood; the waves were calmed. Again the sun smiled over the hardy\nsailors. But many of the crew were worn out by the battle with the\nelements and had to be carried ashore by Frithiof and Bj\u00f6rn when they\nreached the Orkney Islands.\n\nNow the watchman at Angantyr's castle had reported the ship and the\ngale, and Angantyr had declared that only Frithiof and Ellida could\nweather such a storm. One of his vassals, Atl\u00e9, caught up his weapons\nand hurried forth to challenge the great hero.\n\nFrithiof had no weapons, but with a turn of his wrist he threw his\nopponent.\n\n\"Go and get your weapons,\" Atl\u00e9 said, when he saw that Frithiof would\nhave killed him.\n\nKnowing that Atl\u00e9 was a true soldier and would not run away, Frithiof\nleft him in search of his sword; but when he returned and found his\nopponent calmly awaiting death, he was generous, and bade him rise and\nlive.\n\nAngantyr vowed that he owed no tribute to Helg\u00e9, and would pay him\nnone, but to Frithiof he gave a vast treasure, telling him that he\nmight dispose of it as he would.\n\nSo Frithiof sailed back to the kings of Sogn, confident that he could\nwin Ingeborg. What was his dismay, therefore, to learn that Helg\u00e9 and\nHalfdan had already given their sister in marriage to Sigurd Ring. In\na rage he bade his men destroy all the vessels in the harbor, while he\nstrode toward the temple of Balder where Helg\u00e9 and his wife were. He\nflung Angantyr's purse of gold in Helg\u00e9's face, and seeing the ring he\nhad given to Ingeborg on the hand of Helg\u00e9's wife snatched it roughly\nfrom her. In trying to get it back she dropped the image of the god,\nwhich she had just been anointing, into the fire. It was quickly\nconsumed, while the rising flames set fire to the temple.\n\nHorror-stricken, Frithiof tried to stop the blaze, and when he could\nnot, hurried away to his ship.\n\nSo Frithiof became an exile, and a wanderer on the face of the earth.\nFor many years he lived the life of a pirate or viking, exacting\ntribute from other ships or sacking them if they would not pay\ntribute; for this occupation in the days of Frithiof was considered\nwholly respectable. It was followed again and again by the brave men\nof the North.\n\nBut Frithiof was often homesick, and longed to enter a harbor, and\nlead again a life of peace.\n\nAt last he decided to visit the court of Sigurd Ring and find out\nwhether Ingeborg was really happy. Landing, he wrapped himself in an\nold cloak and approached the court. He found a seat on a bench near\nthe door, as beggars usually did; but when one insulting courtier\nmocked him he lifted the offender in his mighty hand and swung him\nhigh over his head.\n\nAt this Sigurd Ring invited the old man to remove his mantle and take\na seat near him. With surprise Sigurd and his courtiers saw step from\nthe tattered mantle a handsome warrior, richly clad; but only Ingeborg\nknew who he was.\n\n\"Who are you who comes to us thus?\" asked Sigurd Ring.\n\n\"I am Thiolf, a thief,\" was the answer, \"and I have grown to manhood\nin the Land of Sorrow.\"\n\nSigurd invited him to remain, and he soon became the almost constant\ncompanion of the king and queen.\n\nOne spring day Sigurd and Frithiof had ridden away on a hunting\nexpedition, and the old king being tired from the chase lay down on\nthe ground to rest, feigning sleep. The birds and beasts of the forest\ndrew near and whispered to Frithiof that he should slay the king and\nhave Ingeborg for his own wife. But Frithiof was too fine and loyal to\nlisten to such suggestions.\n\nAwaking, Sigurd Ring called Frithiof to him.\n\n\"You are Frithiof the Bold,\" he said, \"and from the first I knew you.\nBe patient now a little longer and you shall have Ingeborg, for my end\nis near.\"\n\nSoon after this Sigurd died, commending his wife to the young hero's\nloving care. And at his own request the funeral feast was closed by\nthe public betrothal of Ingeborg and Frithiof.\n\nThe people, admiring his bravery, wanted to make Frithiof king, but he\nwould not listen to their pleadings. Instead he lifted the little son\nof Sigurd upon his shield.\n\n\"Behold your king,\" he cried, \"and until he is grown to manhood I will\nstand beside him.\"\n\nSo Frithiof married his beloved Ingeborg, and later, so the story\nruns, he returned to his own country and built again the temple of\nBalder, more beautiful by far than any before.\n\n[Illustration: FRITHIOF AND INGEBORG IN THE TEMPLE OF BALDER]\n\n\n\n\nWAYLAND THE SMITH\n\n\nKing Nidung had one daughter and three sons. The oldest son, Otvin,\nwas away from court, guarding the outposts of the country; the other\ntwo sons were still children.\n\nOne day the two boys came with their bows to the great smith Wayland,\nasking him to make arrows for them.\n\n\"Not today,\" the smith answered. \"I have not time; and besides, even\nthough you are the sons of the king, I may not work for you without\nthe wish and consent of your father. If he is willing, you may come\nagain; but you must promise to do exactly as I tell you.\"\n\n\"What is that?\" one of the boys ventured.\n\n\"You must,\" said Wayland, \"come on a day when snow has freshly fallen,\nand you must walk facing backward all the way.\"\n\nThe children cared little whether they walked backward or forward, as\nlong as they got their arrows, and so they promised. To their delight\nnext morning they found that snow had fallen. Quickly they set out for\nthe smithy, walking backward all the way.\n\n\"O Wayland, make us the arrows,\" they cried. \"The king, our father,\nhas said that we might have them.\"\n\nBut Wayland had no intention of making the arrows, for the king had\ntreated him unjustly and cruelly, and he saw the opportunity for\nrevenge. With his mighty hammer he struck the two children on the head\nand killed them. Then he threw their bodies into a cave adjoining the\nsmithy.\n\nWhen the children did not return the castle messengers were sent out\nto find them. They inquired at the smithy.\n\n\"The boys have gone,\" said Wayland. \"I made arrows for them, and no\ndoubt they have gone into the woods to shoot birds.\"\n\nReturning to the castle the messengers saw the footprints in the snow,\nand since they pointed toward home, decided that the children must\nhave gone back. But they were not there. Then Nidung sent his servants\nfar and wide throughout the country, and when the boys were nowhere to\nbe found, he concluded that they must have been devoured by wild\nanimals.\n\nWhen all the searches were over, Wayland brought forth the bodies of\nthe two children, stripped the bones of flesh, whitened them, and made\nthem into goblets and vessels for the king's table, mounting them with\nsilver and gold. The king was delighted with them, and had them placed\nupon his board whenever there were guests of honor present.\n\nA long time later, Badhild, the king's daughter, while playing with\nher companions in the garden one day, broke a costly ring that Nidung\nhad given her. She was greatly vexed and feared to tell her father.\n\n\"Why not take it to Wayland to mend?\" suggested one of her trusted\nmaidens.\n\nSo Badhild gave the trinket to the girl and bade her take it to\nWayland. She brought it back with her.\n\n\"Without the command of the king he will not mend it,\" she said,\n\"unless the king's daughter herself will come to him.\"\n\nBadhild set out immediately for the smithy. There Wayland substituted\nfor her ring his own, which had the curious magic power of making its\nwearer fall in love with the smith.\n\nThe smith slipped the jewel on her finger, gazed into her eyes and\nsaid, \"This ring you shall keep as well as your own, if you will be my\nbride.\"\n\nThe maiden could not refuse, and so the two were married, agreeing to\nkeep their union a secret.\n\nAbout this time Eigil, the brother of Wayland, came to the court of\nNidung. He was a celebrated man and the most skilful master of the bow\nto be found anywhere in the world. The king welcomed him, and he\nremained a long time at the court. One day Nidung proposed that, since\nhe was such a skilful bowman, he should try shooting an apple from the\nhead of his own son. Eigil agreed.\n\n\"You may have only one trial,\" the king said.\n\nSo an apple was placed on the head of Eigil's three-year-old son, and\nEigil, taking his bow, aimed, and with the first arrow struck the\napple in the center, so that it fell from the child's head.\n\n\"Why did you have three arrows?\" the king asked.\n\n\"Sire,\" replied Eigil, \"I will not lie to you. If I had pierced my son\nwith the first arrow, the other two would have pierced you.\"\n\nThe king, strange to say, did not take offense at this speech, but on\nthe contrary showed Eigil still greater favor than he had in the past.\n\nThe archer frequently visited his brother Wayland, but Badhild came\nbut seldom to her husband's house. One day the two came together at\nWayland's special request. When they were leaving Wayland embraced\nBadhild and said to her:\n\n\"You will be the mother of a boy--your child and mine. It may be that\nI shall go away from here and never see his face; but you must tell\nhim that I have made for him worthy weapons and stowed them in safety\nin the place where the water enters and the wind goes out (the\nforge).\"\n\nThe next time Wayland saw Eigil he bade him bring to him all kinds of\nfeathers, large and small.\n\n\"I wish to make for myself a doublet of feathers,\" he explained.\n\nThen Eigil shot many birds of prey and brought their feathers to\nWayland. From them he made a flying shirt, clad in which he looked\nmore like an eagle than a man.\n\nEigil admired the workmanship and Wayland asked him to try it.\n\n\"How shall I rise, how fly, and how alight?\" asked Eigil.\n\n\"You must rise against the wind, and fly first low and then high, but\nyou must alight with the wind.\"\n\nEigil did as he was told, and had a good deal of trouble in alighting.\nFinally he knocked his head with such force on the ground that he lost\nconsciousness. When he came to himself Wayland spoke:\n\n\"Tell me, brother Eigil, do you like the shirt?\"\n\n\"If it were as easy to alight as it is to fly,\" was the answer, \"I\nshould fly away and you would never see me again.\"\n\n\"I will alter what is wrong,\" said the smith, making a slight change\nin the shirt. Then with Eigil's help he put on the feathers, flapped\nhis wings and rose into the air. He lighted on a turret of the castle\nand called down to Eigil.\n\n\"I did not tell you the truth when I said that you should alight\n_with_ the wind, for I knew that if you found out how easy it was to\nfly you would never give me the shirt back again. You can see for\nyourself that all birds rise against the wind and alight in the same\nway. I am going home to my own country, but first I must have a few\nwords with Nidung. And, remember, if he bids you shoot me, shoot under\nthe left wing, for there I have fastened a bladder filled with blood.\"\n\nWith these words Wayland flew to the highest tower of the king's\ncastle and called to the king as he passed with his courtiers.\n\n[Illustration: WAYLAND THE SMITH, WEARING THE WINGS HE HAD FASHIONED]\n\n\"Are you a bird, Wayland?\" asked the king.\n\n\"Sometimes I am a bird and sometimes a man,\" was the reply; \"but now I\nam going away from here and never again will you have me in your\npower. Listen while I speak. You promised once to give me your\ndaughter and the half of your kingdom, but you made of me instead an\noutcast--because I defended myself and killed the wretches who would\nhave taken my life.\n\n\"You surprised me while I slept and stole my arms and my treasures;\nand not satisfied with that you laid a net for my feet and made of me\na cripple. But I have had my revenge. Do you know where your sons\nare?\"\n\n\"My sons!\" cried Nidung. \"Oh, tell me what you know of them.\"\n\n\"I will tell you, but first you must swear to me by the deck of the\nship and the edge of the shield, by the back of the horse and the\nblade of the sword that you will do no harm to my wife and child.\"\n\nNidung swore and Wayland began his speech:\n\n\"Go to my smithy, and there in the cave you will find the remains of\nyour sons. I killed them, and of their bones made vessels for your\ntable. Your daughter Badhild is my wife. So have I repaid evil with\nevil, and our connection is ended.\"\n\nWith these words he flew away, while Nidung in great anger cried:\n\"Eigil, shoot at Wayland.\"\n\n\"I cannot harm my own brother,\" replied Eigil.\n\n\"Shoot,\" cried the king, \"or I will kill you.\"\n\nThen Eigil laid an arrow in his bow and shot Wayland as he had been\ninstructed, under his left arm, until the blood flowed and everyone\nthought that the great smith had received his death wound.\n\nBut Wayland, unharmed, flew away to Zealand and made his home there in\nhis father's land.\n\nNidung, meantime, was sad and unhappy, and it was not long before he\ndied and Otvin, his son, succeeded to the throne.\n\nOtvin was soon loved and honored throughout the kingdom because of his\ngreat justice and kindness. His sister lived with him at court, and\nthere her son, Widge, was born.\n\nOne day Wayland sent messengers to Otvin, asking for peace and pardon,\nand when these were granted he traveled again to Jutland and was\nreceived with great honor.\n\nThe mighty smith was very glad to see his wife again and very proud of\nhis three-year-old son; but he would not yield to Otvin's request that\nhe remain in Jutland. Instead he returned to Zealand with Badhild and\nWidge, and there they lived happily for many years.\n\nWayland was known throughout all the world for his knowledge and\nskill, and his son Widge was a powerful hero, whose praises were much\ncelebrated in song.\n\nSo ends the story of Wayland, the great smith of the northern\ncountries.\n\n\n\n\nTWARDOWSKI, THE POLISH FAUST\n\n\nToward the close of the eighteenth century there was pointed out to\nvisitors in the old town of Krakau the house of the magician\nTwardowski, who quite properly was called the Faust of Poland, because\nof his dealings with the Evil One.\n\nIn his youth Twardowski had followed the study of medicine, and with\nsuch industry, such eagerness and such a clear mind did he practice\nhis profession that it was not long before he was the most celebrated\ndoctor in all Poland. But Twardowski was not satisfied with this. He\ncraved greater and still greater power.\n\nAt last one day, as he was reading, he found in an old book of magic\nthat for which he had long been seeking--the formula for summoning the\ndevil. When night came a storm had risen, but caring not for that he\nhurried away to the lonely mountain Kremenki. There, in a rudely\nconstructed hut, he began his incantations.\n\nBefore long there was an earthquake; great rocks were loosened, the\nground opened at Twardowski's feet and flames leaped out; and in the\nflames appeared the Evil One himself, in the form of a man, clad in a\nred cloak with the well-known pointed red cap.\n\n\"What do you wish?\" the devil asked.\n\n\"The power of your most secret wisdom,\" was the answer.\n\n\"And how is this to be done?\"\n\n\"You shall make me the most celebrated of all the learned men of the\ncentury, and shall besides give me such happiness as no man has ever\nenjoyed upon this earth before.\"\n\n\"So be it,\" said the devil. \"But on condition that at the end of\nseven years I gain possession of your soul.\"\n\n\"You may take me,\" answered Twardowski, \"but only in Rome may you have\npower over me. Thither, at the end of seven years, will I go.\"\n\nThe devil hesitated over this clause, but thinking of the fun he could\nhave in the holy city, finally agreed. Leaning against the wall of\nstone he wrote the compact, which Twardowski, making a slight wound in\nhis arm, signed with his own blood.\n\nWhen Twardowski descended from the mountain and made his way, book\nunder arm, through the valley, he heard the bells in all the towers of\nthe city ringing out clearly and solemnly on the still night air. He\nlistened, wondering at the unaccustomed noise, then hurried into the\ntown, inquiring from every one he met what the occasion was. But no\none seemed to have heard the sound.\n\nThen a deep feeling of sadness came over him as he realized the\nmeaning of the bells. They were the funeral knell of his own soul.\n\nWhen morning came, however, doubts were forgotten, and Twardowski was\nglad to have the devil at his command. The first thing that he\ndemanded was to have all the silver of Poland gathered together in one\nplace and covered over with great mounds of sand.\n\nSimilar requests followed, and it was not long before the devil\nrepented of his bargain. One day it would please Twardowski to fly\nwithout wings through the air; on another, to the delight of the\ncrowd, to gallop backward on a cock; on another to float in a boat\nwithout a rudder or sail, accompanied by some maiden who for the\nmoment had inflamed his heart. One day, by the use of his magic\nmirror, he set fire to the castle of an enemy a mile away. This last\nfeat made him greatly feared by people far and wide.\n\nAt last the seven years were up. The devil appeared to Twardowski and\nsaid:\n\n\"Twardowski, the time of our pact is over, and I command you to\nfulfill your promise and go to Rome.\"\n\n\"What shall I do there?\"\n\n\"Give me your immortal soul,\" was the answer.\n\n\"Do you think I am a fool?\" asked Twardowski.\n\n\"You gave me your promise to go to Rome after seven years.\"\n\n\"That I have already done,\" said Twardowski, \"and I did not promise to\nstay in Rome.\"\n\n\"Noble deceiver!\" exclaimed the Evil One.\n\n\"Stupid devil!\" cried Twardowski.\n\nThen after a struggle the devil vanished and Twardowski returned home.\n\nFor over a year he pored incessantly over his books of magic, until at\nlast he found a formula for warding off death. Then he called his\ndisciple Famulus to him and explained that he was going to test the\nformula.\n\n\"You have always obliged me without question,\" said Twardowski, \"and I\nexpect you to now. Take this knife and thrust it into my heart.\"\n\n\"God forbid!\" cried Famulus.\n\n\"Why are you frightened? I know what I am doing. Take the knife and\nkill me, as the parchment directs.\"\n\n\"I cannot.\"\n\n\"You must,\" insisted Twardowski.\n\n\"It is impossible!\"\n\n\"No more exclamations. Do as I tell you.\"\n\n\"Oh, oh, oh!\" wailed Famulus.\n\n\"Strike!\" thundered Twardowski, \"or I will kill you this instant.\"\n\nThen Famulus did as he was bid and forced the blade into his master's\nheart.\n\nTwardowski uttered a low cry, fell, and was soon dead.\n\nFamulus dropped trembling into a chair and covered his face with his\nhands. Then he remembered that he must read the remainder of the\nparchment in order to find out what he must do to restore the body to\nlife.\n\nThen he set about the task, severed the limbs of the dead body, and\nworked and brewed and distilled until the elixir described in the\nparchment was prepared.\n\nWith the elixir he rubbed the members of the master's body, put them\ntogether, and laid the corpse in a coffin. This he buried on the\nfollowing night, explaining to Twardowski's friends that such had been\nthe master's wish.\n\nNow the parchment stated that the body must remain in the grave seven\nyears, seven months, seven days and seven hours; so Famulus could do\nnothing but wait. At last the time had expired, and on a snowy, cold\nDecember night he found his way to the grave. He dug out the coffin,\nbrushed off the snow and earth, opened the casket and found--not the\nbody of Twardowski, but that of a child who lay sleeping in a bed of\nfragrant violets.\n\n\"The child is like Twardowski,\" Famulus thought, and he gathered him\nup under his cloak and carried him home. The next morning the child\nwas the size of a twelve-year old; and after seven weeks he was a\nfull-grown man.\n\nTwardowski, who now seemed quite himself, only younger, and stronger,\nthanked Famulus and resumed again his study of magic. He desired,\nabove all things, to be freed forever from his compact with the devil.\nThis, he read in one of the books, he might do if he would brave the\nterrors of the underworld.\n\nSo Twardowski determined to enter the gates of hell. At his magic\nspeech the ground opened and he began the path of descent. Blue flames\nlighted the way. Deeper and deeper he went through dark and winding\npassages. At last he reached the underworld itself, and many awful\nsights did he behold.\n\nAnd the farther he went the more frightened did he become. He could\nnot help feeling that the devil had plotted something against him.\nFinally he found himself in a small room, and cast a hasty glance\naround, looking for a means of escape.\n\nSeeing a child in a cradle in one corner of the room he seized it\nhastily, threw his cloak around it, and was about to leave when the\ndoor opened and the Evil One entered.\n\nHe made a respectful bow and said, \"Will you be good enough to go with\nme now?\"\n\n\"Why so?\" asked Twardowski, obstinately.\n\n\"Because of our agreement.\"\n\n\"But,\" said the magician, \"only in Rome have you power over me.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied the devil, \"and Rome is the name of this house.\"\n\n\"You think to trick me by a pun; but you cannot. I carry this talisman\nof innocence,\" and throwing aside his cloak, he disclosed the sleeping\nchild.\n\nAnger showed in the face of the devil; but he stepped nearer to\nTwardowski and said softly:\n\n\"What are you thinking of, Twardowski? Have you forgotten your\npromise? The nobleman's word is sacred to him.\"\n\nPride awoke in the breast of the magician.\n\n\"I must keep my word,\" he said, laying the child back in the crib, and\nsurrendering himself.\n\nOn the shoulders of the devil two wings appeared, like the wings of a\nbat. He seized Twardowski and flew away with him, mounting higher and\nhigher into the night. The magician was so terrified and suffered\nsuch anguish in the clutches of the Evil One that in a few moments he\nwas changed into an old man, but he did not lose consciousness. At\nlast so high were they that cities appeared like flies and Krakau with\nits mighty turrets like two spiders. Deeply moved, Twardowski looked\ndown upon the scene of all his struggles and all his joys.\n\nBut higher and higher they went--higher than any eagle has ever\nflown--and more lonely and more fearful did it seem to Twardowski.\nOnly occasionally bright stars passed by them, or fiery meteors,\nleaving a long streak of light behind.\n\nAt last they came to the moon, which stared at them with dead eyes.\nThen a song that Twardowski had read in his mother's hymn book rose to\nhis lips. And as he repeated mechanically the prayer his mother had\ntaught him an angel suddenly appeared and said:\n\n\"Satan, let Twardowski go; and you, Twardowski, hang you there between\nheaven and earth, to atone for your sin until the Last Judgment. Then\nwill you be reunited with your mother in heaven. The prayer which you\nremembered in your hour of need has saved you.\"\n\nAnd so, according to the story, Twardowski is suspended in the vault\nof heaven to this very day.\n\n[Illustration: TWARDOWSKI IN THE ARMS OF THE EVIL ONE]\n\n\n\n\nILIA MUROMEC OF RUSSIA\n\n\nWhen we think of Russia we think of a great dark country--a country of\nlong winters and abundant snow and ice. It was here, long ago, in the\ncity of Kiev, that the hero Ilia Muromec was born.\n\nThere was at that time a great castle in the city, and this was well\nprotected by Ilia Muromec and his twelve armed knights. For thirty\nlong years had they kept watch at their post and no stranger had ever\npassed by them.\n\nBut one morning Dobrnja, the knight after Ilia Muromec most powerful,\nperceived on the ground the imprint of a horse's hoof. Then he said to\nthe knights:\n\n\"Now is the mighty Zidovin in the neighborhood of our castle. What is\nyour will?\"\n\nThe knights with one accord agreed that Dobrnja should ride out\nagainst the stranger. So Dobrnja mounted his war-horse and galloped\nforth to meet Zidovin, calling to him in a deep, gruff voice:\n\n\"Here, my insolent sir, you have come all the way to our castle and\nhave omitted to send greeting to our captain Ilia Muromec, or to\ninform him of your approach.\"\n\nWhen Zidovin heard these words he turned quickly and rode toward\nDobrnja with such force that springs and lakes appeared wherever the\nhoofs of his black horse touched the ground. And the trembling of the\nearth caused great waves to rise on the sea.\n\nDobrnja was so frightened that he jerked his horse about and with the\nswiftness of a cyclone galloped back to the castle. When he entered,\nalmost exhausted, he told in great excitement of his encounter.\n\nImmediately Ilia decided to go forth himself against the enemy, and\nall the entreaties of his knights could not restrain him. So he rode\nout to a high point where he could see Zidovin, watch him as he threw\nhis hundred-weight club up into the clouds, caught it with one hand,\nand swung it around in the air as if it had been a feather.\n\nThen Ilia spurred his horse and rode toward Zidovin. A horrible fight\nensued. Swords clashed and deep fissures were made in the earth, but\nneither knight fell. It seemed as if both heroes had grown fast to\ntheir saddles, so unshakeable were they.\n\nAt last they jumped from their horses and fought hand to hand with\nlances. All day long and all night long they struggled, until Ilia\nfinally fell wounded to the ground. Zidovin kneeled on his breast,\ndrew out his sharp knife, and was about to cut off the head of his\nenemy.\n\nIlia meantime was thinking, \"Surely the holy fathers did not lie to me\nwhen they said that I should not lose my life in battle.\"\n\nThen suddenly he felt his strength redoubled, and he hurled Zidovin\nfrom him with such force that his body touched the clouds before it\nfell again in the moist earth at his feet. Cutting off the warrior's\nhead, he mounted his horse and rode back to the castle. To his knights\nhe said:\n\n\"Thirty years have I ridden in the field and thirty years have I\nfought with heroes and tested my strength; but such a mighty man as\nZidovin have I in all that time never met.\"\n\n[Illustration: ZIDOVIN THREW THE IRON CLUB INTO THE AIR AND CAUGHT IT\nWITH ONE HAND]\n\n\n\n\nKRALEWITZ MARKO OF SERVIA\n\n\nKralewitz Marko was the son of a Servian king who lived many, many\nyears ago. He was very fond of hunting, and one day he rode forth on\nhis horse Saria to the mountain Sargau. Being tired, he dismounted,\ntied his horse to a tree, sat down in its shade and fell asleep.\n\nAnd as he slept it happened that Arbanes Neda with his seven brothers\nrode by. They all dismounted, lifted Kralewitz, bound him to his\nhorse, and rode away with him to Jedrena, where they presented him to\nthe vizier.\n\nHighly pleased over the gift, the vizier took the king's son and threw\nhim into prison. Two long years Kralewitz lay there, longing for\nliberty and home. Then he learned that in a few days he was to be\nexecuted.\n\nImmediately he wrote a letter to his friend, Milos Obilis, asking for\nhelp. This important message he entrusted to his only companion, a\nwhite falcon. Tying the letter under the bird's wing he set it free.\n\nThe falcon easily found its way, alighted on Milos' window, and was\nadmitted. Scarcely had Milos read the letter, when he and two of his\nfriends were ready to set out for Jedrena. They reached there the day\nbefore the execution.\n\nIn the morning the gate of the city was opened and Marko was led out.\nMilos and his companions accompanied the mournful procession to an\nopen field in which the execution was to take place. Two Arabs stood\nup with gleaming swords prepared to cut off Marko's head.\n\n\"Hold on, brothers,\" cried Milos. \"I will give you a sharper sword\nwith which to cut off the malicious head of the noble Piam. See, with\nthis sword did the good-for-nothing treacherously slay my father.\nCursed be his hand!\"\n\nWith these words he rushed to Marko's side; then with one swift stroke\nhe cut off the head of one Arab, and with another the head of the\nother.\n\nWith still another stroke he severed the chains that bound Marko, and\nMarko, seizing a sword, swung himself into his saddle, and with his\nfriends began to attack the horde of Turks. Frightened, the Turks fled\nbefore them, and Marko and his companions returned to their own\ncountry.\n\nMarko waited for and soon found the opportunity of showing his\ngratitude to his friend, for Milos and two of his brothers were thrown\ninto prison in Varadin. Milos wrote with his own blood a letter to\nMarko, asking for help.\n\nThen the king's son sprang to his horse Saria and rode to Varadin.\nOutside of the city he dismounted, stuck his spear in the earth, tied\nSaria and began drinking the black wine which he had brought with him.\nHe poured it into huge beakers, half of which he drank himself, and\nhalf of which he gave to Saria.\n\nAt the same time a beautiful maiden, the daughter-in-law of the\ngeneral, passed by. When she saw the king's son she was frightened and\nran and told her father-in-law.\n\nThen the general sent out his son Velimir with three hundred men to\ntake Marko prisoner. The knights encircled Kralewitz Marko, but he\ncontinued drinking his wine and paid no attention to them. But Saria\nnoticed them, and drawing near her master began beating the ground\nwith her hoofs.\n\nAt this Marko looked up and saw himself surrounded. He emptied his\nbeaker, threw it to the ground, and sprang to his horse.\n\n[Illustration: THEY GAGGED MARKO AND BOUND HIM TO HIS HORSE]\n\nLike a falcon among doves Marko charged against the enemy. He cut off\nthe heads of some and drove the rest before him into the Danube.\nVelimir tried to flee, but Marko threw him from his horse, tied his\nhands and feet and bound him to Saria. Then again he began to drink\nhis wine.\n\nAll this the maiden watched and reported to her father. He gathered\ntogether three thousand knights and rode forth against the stranger.\nThey surrounded Marko, but he was undismayed. Bravely he charged\nagainst them, his sword in his right hand, his spear in his left, and\nthe reins held between his teeth.\n\nEvery knight he touched with either sword or spear fell instantly to\nthe ground, and when Vuca, the general, wholly dismayed, tried to\nescape on his fiery Arabian horse, Marko followed him, threw him,\nbound him, and led him to the place where his son lay. Then he bound\nthe two together, tossed them on the saddle of the Arabian horse and\nrode home. There he put them in prison.\n\nHearing this, the wife of the general wrote a letter to Marko, begging\nfor mercy for her husband and son. Marko promised to release them on\ncondition that she release Milos and his brothers. This she did,\nhonoring them and making them rich presents.\n\n\"Now, for the love of Heaven,\" said she, \"see that my husband and my\nson return to me.\"\n\n\"Never fear,\" answered Milos. \"Give me the general's black horse;\nadorn him as the general adorned him; give me a golden chariot with\ntwelve horses, such as the general rides in when he journeys to the\nemperor in Vienna; and give me the robe that the general wears on\nstate occasions.\"\n\nThe wife provided all that he asked, and gave the prisoners for\nthemselves a thousand ducats. Then they rode away.\n\nMarko welcomed them, released the general and his son and provided\nthem with a strong body-guard back to Varadin. Then Milos and his\nbrothers divided the ducats among them, kissed the hand of the king's\nson, and rode away into their own country.\n\n\n\n\nTHE DECISION OF LIBUSCHA\n\n\nThere dwelt once in the neighborhood of Gr\u00fcnberg Castle in Bohemia two\nbrothers--Staglow and Chrudis, of the distinguished family of\nKlemowita--and these two had fallen into a fierce dispute over the\ninheritance of their father's lands. The older son Chrudis thought\nthat he should inherit all of the estate--and that is the custom in\nsome countries, you know--while the younger son, Staglow, declared\nthat the property should be equally divided.\n\nNow it happened that a sister of the princess Libuscha Vyched lived at\nthe court. She entreated the princess to settle the quarrel according\nto law.\n\nThe princess yielded to her wish, and decided that the brothers should\neither inherit their father's estate jointly or divide it into equal\nshares.\n\nAll the lords of the country assembled to hear the rendering of the\ndecision--brave knights from far and near. Chrudis and Staglow, of\ncourse, were present, very curious to hear what their princess would\ndecide. Pungel of Hadio, proclaimed far and wide as the bravest of all\nthe knights of Bohemia, was also among the company.\n\nThe princess herself rendered the decision, standing in white robes\nbefore her people. The two brothers stood near, and scarcely had the\nlast word been uttered when the knight Chrudis, who, as first-born,\nclaimed the estate for himself, sprang excitedly to his feet, mocking\nand insulting the princess. \"Poor people,\" he said, addressing the\nassembly, \"I am sorry for you who have to be ruled over by a girl.\"\n\n[Illustration: LIBUSCHA INSULTED BY CHRUDIS]\n\nDeeply grieved, the maiden-princess Libuscha rose, explaining that\nshe would no longer rule alone. She commanded the people to choose her\na husband.\n\n\"No matter whom you choose,\" she declared, \"I will abide by your\ndecision.\"\n\nThereupon the assembled subjects cried out that they would have Pungel\nof Hadio as prince; and Libuscha, stepping toward him, extended her\nhand to him in token of her agreement.\n\nThus did Pungel become the liege lord of the Bohemian nobles.\n\nNo one knows how long ago all this happened, for the manuscript that\ntells the story was very old when it was discovered in the year 1817.\nIt had lain for many, many years among other old documents in the\ngreat chests that lined the walls of the courtroom in the ancient\nCastle Gr\u00fcnberg in Bohemia. The manuscript is now in a great museum in\nPrague, and perhaps, some day, when you go there, you will see it for\nyourself.\n\n\n\n\nCOUNT ROLAND OF FRANCE\n\n\nThe trumpets sounded and the army went on its way to France. The next\nday King Charles called his lords together. \"You see,\" said he, \"these\nnarrow passes. Whom shall I place to command the rear-guard? Choose\nyou a man yourselves.\"\n\nSaid Ganelon, \"Whom should we choose but my son-in-law, Count Roland?\nYou have no man in your host so valiant. Of a truth he will be the\nsalvation of France.\"\n\nThe King said when he heard these words, \"What ails you, Ganelon? You\nlook like to one possessed.\"\n\nWhen Count Roland knew what was proposed concerning him, he spake out\nas a true knight should speak: \"I am right thankful to you,\nfather-in-law, that you have caused me to be put in this place. Of a\ntruth the King of France shall lose nothing by my means, neither\ncharger, nor mule, nor pack-horse, nor beast of burden.\"\n\nThen Roland turned to the King and said, \"Give me twenty thousand\nonly, so they be men of valor, and I will keep the passes in all\nsafety. So long as I shall live, you need fear no man.\"\n\nThen Roland mounted his horse. With him were Oliver, his comrade, and\nOtho and Berenger, and Gerard of Roussillon, an aged warrior, and\nothers, men of renown. And Turpin the Archbishop cried, \"By my head, I\nwill go also.\" So they chose twenty thousand warriors with whom to\nkeep the passes.\n\nMeanwhile King Charles had entered the valley of Roncesvalles. High\nwere the mountains on either side of the way, and the valleys were\ngloomy and dark. But when the army had passed through the valley,\nthey saw the fair land of Gascony, and as they saw it they thought of\ntheir homes and their wives and daughters. There was not one of them\nbut wept for very tenderness of heart. But of all that company there\nwas none sadder than the King himself, when he thought how he had left\nhis nephew Count Roland behind him in the passes of Spain.\n\nAnd now the Saracen King Marsilas began to gather his army. He laid a\nstrict command on all his nobles and chiefs that they should bring\nwith them to Saragossa as many men as they could gather together. And\nwhen they were come to the city, it being the third day from the\nissuing of the King's command, they saluted the great image of\nMahomet, the false prophet, that stood on the topmost tower. This done\nthey went forth from the city gates. They made all haste, marching\nacross the mountains and valleys of Spain till they came in sight of\nthe standard of France, where Roland and Oliver and the Twelve Peers\nwere ranged in battle array.\n\nThe Saracen champions donned their coats of mail, of double substance\nmost of them, and they set upon their heads helmets of Saragossa of\nwell-tempered metal, and they girded themselves with swords of Vienna.\nFair were their shields to view; their lances were from Valentia;\ntheir standards were of white, blue, and red. Their mules they left\nwith the servants, and, mounting their chargers, so moved forwards.\nFair was the day and bright the sun, as their armor flashed in the\nlight, and the drums were beaten so loudly that the Frenchmen heard\nthe sound.\n\nSaid Oliver to Roland, \"Comrade, methinks we shall soon do battle with\nthe Saracens.\"\n\n\"God grant it,\" answered Roland. \"'Tis our duty to hold the place for\nthe King, and we will do it, come what may. As for me, I will not set\nan ill example.\"\n\nOliver climbed to the top of a hill, and saw from thence the whole\narmy of the heathen. He cried to Roland his companion, \"I see the\nflashing of arms. We men of France shall have no small trouble\ntherefrom. This is the doing of Ganelon the traitor.\"\n\n\"Be silent,\" answered Roland, \"till you shall know; say no more about\nhim.\"\n\nOliver looked again from the hilltop, and saw how the Saracens came\non. So many there were that he could not count their battalions. He\ndescended to the plain with all speed, and came to the array of the\nFrench, and said, \"I have seen more heathen than man ever yet saw\ntogether upon the earth. There are a hundred thousand at the least. We\nshall have such a battle with them as has never before been fought. My\nbrethren of France, quit you like men, be strong; stand firm that you\nbe not conquered.\" And all the army shouted with one voice, \"Cursed be\nhe that shall fly.\"\n\nThen Oliver turned to Roland, and said, \"Sound your horn; my friend,\nCharles will hear it, and will return.\"\n\n\"I were a fool,\" answered Roland, \"so to do. Not so; but I will deal\nthese heathen some mighty blows with Durendal, my sword. They have\nbeen ill-advised to venture into these passes. I swear that they are\ncondemned to death, one and all.\"\n\nAfter a while, Oliver said again, \"Friend Roland, sound your horn of\nivory. Then will the King return, and bring his army with him, to our\nhelp.\" But Roland answered again, \"I will not do dishonor to my\nkinsmen, or to the fair land of France. I have my sword; that shall\nsuffice for me. These evil-minded heathen are gathered together\nagainst us to their own hurt. Surely not one of them shall escape from\ndeath.\"\n\n\"As for me,\" said Oliver, \"I see not where the dishonor would be. I\nsaw the valleys and the mountains covered with the great multitude of\nSaracens. Theirs is, in truth, a mighty array, and we are but few.\"\n\n\"So much the better,\" answered Roland. \"It makes my courage grow. 'Tis\nbetter to die than to be disgraced. And remember, the harder our blows\nthe more the King will love us.\"\n\nRoland was brave, but Oliver was wise. \"Consider,\" he said, \"comrade.\nThese enemies are over-near to us, and the King over-far. Were he\nhere, we should not be in danger; but there are some here today who\nwill never fight in another battle.\"\n\nThen Turpin the Archbishop struck spurs into his horse, and rode to a\nhilltop. Then he turned to the men of France, and spake: \"Lords of\nFrance, King Charles has left us here; our King he is, and it is our\nduty to die for him. Today our Christian Faith is in peril: do ye\nfight for it. Fight ye must; be sure of that, for there under your\neyes are the Saracens. Confess, therefore, your sins, and pray to God\nthat He have mercy upon you. And now for your soul's health I will\ngive you all absolution. If you die, you will be God's martyrs, every\none of you, and your places are ready for you in His Paradise.\"\n\nThereupon the men of France dismounted, and knelt upon the ground, and\nthe Archbishop blessed them in God's name. \"But look,\" said he, \"I set\nyou a penance--smite these pagans.\" Then the men of France rose to\ntheir feet. They had received absolution, and were set free from all\ntheir sins, and the Archbishop had blessed them in the name of God.\nAfter this they mounted their swift steeds, and clad themselves in\narmor, and made themselves ready for the battle.\n\nSaid Roland to Oliver, \"Brother, you know that it is Ganelon who has\nbetrayed us. Good store he has had of gold and silver as a reward;\n'tis the King Marsilas that has made merchandise of us, but verily it\nis with our swords that he shall be paid.\" So saying, he rode on to\nthe pass, mounted on his good steed Veillantif. His spear he held with\nthe point to the sky; a white flag it bore with fringes of gold which\nfell down to his hands. A stalwart man was he, and his countenance was\nfair and smiling. Behind him followed Oliver, his friend; and the men\nof France pointed to him, saying, \"See our champion!\" Pride was in his\neye when he looked towards the Saracens; but to the men of France his\nregard was all sweetness and humility. Full courteously he spake to\nthem:\n\n\"Ride not so fast, my lords,\" he said; \"verily these heathen are come\nhither, seeking martyrdom. 'Tis a fair spoil that we shall gather from\nthem today. Never has King of France gained any so rich.\" And as he\nspake, the two hosts came together.\n\nSaid Oliver, \"You did not deem it fit, my lord, to sound your horn.\nTherefore you lack the help which the King would have sent. Not his\nthe blame, for he knows nothing of what has chanced. But do you, lords\nof France, charge as fiercely as you may, and yield not one whit to\nthe enemy. Think upon these two things only--how to deal a straight\nblow and to take it. And let us not forget King Charles' cry of\nbattle.\"\n\nThen all the men of France with one voice cried out, \"Mountjoy!\" He\nthat heard them so cry had never doubted that they were men of valor.\nProud was their array as they rode on to battle, spurring their horses\nthat they might speed the more. And the Saracens, on their part, came\nforward with a good heart. Thus did the Frenchmen and the heathen meet\nin the shock of battle.\n\nFull many of the heathen warriors fell that day. Not one of the Twelve\nPeers of France but slew his man. But of all none bore himself so\nvaliantly as Roland. Many a blow did he deal to the enemy with his\nmighty spear, and when the spear was shivered in his hand, fifteen\nwarriors having fallen before it, then he seized his good sword\nDurendal, and smote man after man to the ground. Red was he with the\nblood of his enemies, red was his hauberk, red his arms, red his\nshoulders, aye, and the neck of his horse. Not one of the Twelve\nlingered in the rear, or was slow to strike, but Count Roland was the\nbravest of the brave. \"Well done, sons of France!\" cried Turpin the\nArchbishop, when he saw them lay on in such sort.\n\nNext to Roland for valor and hardihood came Oliver, his companion.\nMany a heathen warrior did he slay, till at last his spear was\nshivered in his hand. \"What are you doing, comrade?\" cried Roland,\nwhen he was aware of the mishap. \"A man wants no staff in such a\nbattle as this. 'Tis the steel and nothing else that he must have.\nWhere is your sword Hautclere, with its hilt of gold and its pommel of\ncrystal?\"\n\n\"On my word,\" said Oliver, \"I have not had time to draw it; I was so\nbusy with striking.\" But as he spake he drew the good sword from its\nscabbard, and smote a heathen knight, Justin of the Iron Valley. A\nmighty blow it was, cleaving the man in twain down to his saddle--aye,\nand the saddle itself with its adorning of gold and jewels, and the\nvery backbone also of the steed whereon he rode, so that horse and man\nfell dead together on the plains. \"Well done!\" cried Roland; \"you are\na true brother of mine. 'Tis such strokes as this that make the King\nlove us.\"\n\nNevertheless, for all the valor of Roland and his fellows the battle\nwent hard with the men of France. Many lances were shivered, many\nflags torn, and many gallant youths cut off in their prime. Never more\nwould they see mother and wife. It was an ill deed that the traitor\nGanelon wrought when he sold his fellows to King Marsilas!\n\nAnd now there befell a new trouble. King Almaris, with a great host\nof heathen, coming by an unknown way, fell upon the rear of the host\nwhere there was another pass. Fiercely did the noble Walter that kept\nthe same charge the newcomers, but they overpowered him and his\nfollowers. He was wounded with four several lances, and four times did\nhe swoon, so that at the last he was constrained to leave the field of\nbattle, that he might call the Count Roland to his aid. But small was\nthe aid which Roland could give him or any one. Valiantly he held up\nthe battle, and with him Oliver, and Turpin the Archbishop, and others\nalso; but the lines of the men of France were broken, and their armor\nthrust through and their spears shivered, and their flags trodden in\nthe dust. For all this they made such slaughter among the heathen that\nKing Almaris, who led the armies of the enemy, scarcely could win back\nhis way to his own people, wounded in four places and sorely spent. A\nright good warrior was he; had he but been a Christian, but few had\nmatched him in battle.\n\nCount Roland saw how grievously his people had suffered and spake thus\nto Oliver his comrade: \"Dear comrade, you see how many brave men lie\ndead upon the ground. Well may we mourn for fair France, widowed as\nshe is of so many valiant champions. But why is our King not here? O\nOliver, my brother, what shall we do to send him tidings of our\nstate?\" \"I know not,\" answered Oliver. \"Only this I know--that death\nis to be chosen rather than dishonor.\"\n\nAfter a while Roland said again, \"I shall blow my horn; King Charles\nwill hear it, where he has encamped beyond the passes, and he and his\nhost will come back.\"\n\n\"That would be ill done,\" answered Oliver, \"and shame both you and\nyour race. When I gave you this counsel you would have none of it. Now\nI like it not. 'Tis not for a brave man to sound the horn and cry for\nhelp now that we are in such case.\"\n\n\"The battle is too hard for us,\" said Roland again, \"and I shall\nsound my horn, that the King may hear.\"\n\nAnd Oliver answered again, \"When I gave you this counsel, you scorned\nit. Now I myself like it not. 'Tis true that had the King been here,\nwe had not suffered this loss. But the blame is not his. 'Tis your\nfolly, Count Roland, that has done to death all these men of France.\nBut for that we should have conquered in this battle, and have taken\nand slain King Marsilas. But now we can do nothing for France and the\nKing. We can but die. Woe is me for our country, aye, and for our\nfriendship, which will come to a grievous end this day.\"\n\nThe Archbishop perceived that the two friends were at variance, and\nspurred his horse till he came where they stood. \"Listen to me,\" he\nsaid, \"Sir Roland and Sir Oliver. I implore you not to fall out with\neach other in this fashion. We, sons of France, that are in this\nplace, are of a truth condemned to death, neither will the sounding of\nyour horn save us, for the King is far away, and cannot come in time.\nNevertheless, I hold it to be well that you should sound it. When the\nKing and his army shall come, they will find us dead--that I know full\nwell. But they will avenge us, so that our enemies shall not go away\nrejoicing. And they will also recover our bodies, and will carry them\naway for burial in holy places, so that the dogs and wolves shall not\ndevour them.\"\n\n\"You say well,\" cried Roland, and he put his horn to his lips, and\ngave so mighty a blast upon it, that the sound was heard thirty\nleagues away. King Charles and his men heard it, and the King said,\n\"Our countrymen are fighting with the enemy.\" But Ganelon answered,\n\"Sire, had any but you so spoken, I had said that he spoke falsely.\"\n\nThen Roland blew his horn a second time; with great pain and anguish\nof body he blew it, and the red blood gushed from his lips; but the\nsound was heard yet farther than at first. Again the King heard it,\nand all his nobles, and all his men. \"That,\" said he, \"is Roland's\nhorn; he never had sounded it were he not in battle with the enemy.\"\nBut Ganelon answered again: \"Believe me, Sire, there is no battle. You\nare an old man, and you have the fancies of a child. You know what a\nmighty man of valor is this Roland. Think you that any one would dare\nto attack him? No one, of a truth. Ride on, Sire; why halt you here?\nThe fair land of France is yet far away.\"\n\nRoland blew his horn a third time, and when the King heard it he said,\n\"He that blew that horn drew a deep breath.\" And Duke Naymes cried\nout, \"Roland is in trouble; on my conscience he is fighting with the\nenemy. Some one has betrayed him; 'tis he, I doubt not, that would\ndeceive you now. To arms, Sire! utter your war-cry, and help your own\nhouse and your country. You have heard the cry of the noble Roland.\"\n\nThen King Charles bade all the trumpets sound, and forthwith all the\nmen of France armed themselves, with helmets, and hauberks, and swords\nwith pommels of gold. Mighty were their shields, and their lances\nstrong, and the flags that they carried were white and red and blue.\nAnd when they made an end of their arming they rode back with all\nhaste. There was not one of them but said to his comrade, \"If we find\nRoland yet alive, what mighty strokes will we strike for him!\"\n\nBut Ganelon the King handed over to the knaves of his kitchen. \"Take\nthis traitor,\" said he, \"who has sold his country.\" Ill did Ganelon\nfare among them. They pulled out his hair and his beard and smote him\nwith their staves; then they put a great chain, such as that with\nwhich a bear is bound, about his neck, and made him fast to a\npack-horse.\n\nThis done, the King and his army hastened with all speed to the help\nof Roland. In the van and the rear sounded the trumpets as though they\nwould answer Roland's horn. Full of wrath was King Charles as he rode;\nfull of wrath were all the men of France. There was not one among them\nbut wept and sobbed; there was not one but prayed, \"Now, may God keep\nRoland alive till we come to the battle-field, so that we may strike a\nblow for him.\" Alas! it was all in vain; they could not come in time\nfor all their speed.\n\nCount Roland looked round on the mountain-sides and on the plains.\nAlas! how many noble sons of France he saw lying dead upon them! \"Dear\nfriends,\" he said, weeping as he spoke, \"may God have mercy on you and\nreceive you into His Paradise! More loyal followers have I never seen.\nHow is the fair land of France widowed of her bravest, and I can give\nyou no help. Oliver, dear comrade, we must not part. If the enemy slay\nme not here, surely I shall be slain by sorrow. Come then, let us\nsmite these heathen.\"\n\nThus did Roland again charge the enemy, his good sword Durendal in his\nhand; as the stag flies before the hounds, so did the heathen fly\nbefore Roland. \"By my faith,\" cried the Archbishop when he saw him,\n\"that is a right good knight! Such courage, and such a steed, and such\narms I love well to see. If a man be not brave and a stout fighter, he\nhad better by far be a monk in some cloister where he may pray all day\nlong for our sins.\"\n\nNow the heathen, when they saw how few the Frenchmen were, took fresh\ncourage. And the Caliph, spurring his horse, rode against Oliver and\nsmote him in the middle of his back, making his spear pass right\nthrough him. \"That is a shrewd blow,\" he cried; \"I have avenged my\nfriends and countrymen upon you.\"\n\nThen Oliver knew he was stricken to death, but he would not fall\nunavenged. With his great sword Hautclere he smote the Caliph on his\nhead and cleft it to the teeth. \"Curse on you, pagan. Neither your\nwife nor any woman in the land of your birth shall boast that you have\ntaken a penny's worth from King Charles!\" But to Roland he cried,\n\"Come, comrade, help me; well I know that we two shall part in great\nsorrow this day.\"\n\nRoland came with all speed, and saw his friend, how he lay all pale\nand fainting on the ground and how the blood gushed in great streams\nfrom his wound. \"I know not what to do,\" he cried. \"This is an ill\nchance that has befallen you. Truly France is bereaved of her bravest\nson.\" So saying he went near to swoon in the saddle as he sat. Then\nthere befell a strange thing. Oliver had lost so much of his blood\nthat he could not any more see clearly or know who it was that was\nnear him. So he raised up his arm and smote with all his strength that\nyet remained to him on the helmet of Roland his friend. The helmet he\ncleft in twain to the visor; but by good fortune it wounded not the\nhead.\n\nRoland looked at him and said in a gentle voice, \"Did you this of set\npurpose? I am Roland your friend, and have not harmed you.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said Oliver, \"I hear you speak, but I cannot see you. Pardon me\nthat I struck you; it was not done of set purpose.\"\n\n\"It harmed me not,\" answered Roland; \"with all my heart and before God\nI forgive you.\" And this was the way these two friends parted at the\nlast.\n\nAnd now Oliver felt the pains of death come over him. He could no\nlonger see nor hear. Therefore he turned his thoughts to making his\npeace with God, and clasping his hands lifted them to heaven and made\nhis confession. \"O Lord,\" he said, \"take me into Paradise. And do Thou\nbless King Charles and the sweet land of France.\" And when he had\nsaid thus he died. And Roland looked at him as he lay. There was not\nupon earth a more sorrowful man than he. \"Dear comrade,\" he said,\n\"this is indeed an evil day. Many a year have we two been together.\nNever have I done wrong to you; never have you done wrong to me. How\nshall I bear to live without you?\" And he swooned where he sat on his\nhorse. But the stirrup held him up that he did not fall to the ground.\n\nWhen Roland came to himself he looked about him and saw how great was\nthe calamity that had befallen his army. For now there were left alive\nto him two only, Turpin the Archbishop and Walter of Hum. Walter had\nbut that moment come down from the hills where he had been fighting so\nfiercely with the heathen that all his men were dead; now he cried to\nRoland for help. \"Noble Count, where are you? I am Walter of Hum, and\nam not unworthy to be your friend. Help me therefore. For see how my\nspear is broken and my shield cleft in twain. My hauberk is in pieces,\nand my body sorely wounded. I am about to die; but I have sold my life\nat a great price.\"\n\nWhen Roland heard him cry he set spurs to his horse and galloped to\nhim. \"Walter,\" said he, \"you are a brave warrior and a trustworthy.\nTell me now where are the thousand valiant men whom you took from my\narmy. They were right good soldiers, and I am in sore need of them.\"\n\n\"They are dead,\" answered Walter; \"you will see them no more. A sore\nbattle we had with the Saracens yonder on the hills; they had the men\nof Canaan there and the men of Armenia and the Giants; there were no\nbetter men in their army than these. We dealt with them so that they\nwill not boast themselves of this day's work. But it cost us dear; all\nthe men of France lie dead on the plain, and I am wounded to the\ndeath. And now, Roland, blame me not that I fled; for you are my lord,\nand all my trust is in you.\"\n\n\"I blame you not,\" said Roland, \"only as long as you live help me\nagainst the heathen.\" And as he spake he took his cloak and rent it\ninto strips and bound up Walter's wounds therewith. This done he and\nWalter and the Archbishop set fiercely on the enemy. Five-and-twenty\ndid Roland slay, and Walter slew six, and the Archbishop five. Three\nvaliant men of war they were; fast and firm they stood one by the\nother; hundreds there were of the heathen, but they dared not come\nnear to these three valiant champions of France. They stood far off,\nand cast at the three spears and darts and javelins and weapons of\nevery kind. Walter of Hum was slain forthwith; and the Archbishop's\narmor was broken, and he wounded, and his horse slain under him.\nNevertheless he lifted himself from the ground, still keeping a good\nheart in his breast. \"They have not overcome me yet,\" said he; \"as\nlong as a good soldier lives, he does not yield.\"\n\nRoland took his horn once more and sounded it, for he would know\nwhether King Charles were coming. Ah me! it was a feeble blast that he\nblew. But the King heard it, and he halted and listened. \"My lords!\"\nsaid he, \"things go ill for us, I doubt not. Today we shall lose, I\nfear me much, my brave nephew Roland. I know by the sound of his horn\nthat he has but a short time to live. Put your horses to their full\nspeed, if you would come in time to help him, and let a blast be\nsounded by every trumpet that there is in the army.\" So all the\ntrumpets in the host sounded a blast; all the valleys and hills\nre-echoed with the sound; sore discouraged were the heathen when they\nheard it.\n\n\"King Charles has come again,\" they cried; \"we are all as dead men.\nWhen he comes he shall not find Roland alive.\" Then four hundred of\nthem, the strongest and most valiant knights that were in the army of\nthe heathen, gathered themselves into one company, and made a yet\nfiercer assault on Roland.\n\nRoland saw them coming, and waited for them without fear. So long as\nhe lived he would not yield himself to the enemy or give place to\nthem. \"Better death than flight,\" said he, as he mounted his good\nsteed Veillantif, and rode towards the enemy. And by his side went\nTurpin the Archbishop on foot. Then said Roland to Turpin, \"I am on\nhorseback and you are on foot. But let us keep together; never will I\nleave you; we two will stand against these heathen dogs. They have\nnot, I warrant, among them such a sword as Durendal.\"\n\n\"Good,\" answered the Archbishop. \"Shame to the man who does not smite\nhis hardest. And though this be our last battle, I know well that King\nCharles will take ample vengeance for us.\"\n\nWhen the heathen saw these two stand together they fell back in fear\nand hurled at them spears and darts and javelins without number.\nRoland's shield they broke and his hauberk; but him they hurt not;\nnevertheless they did him a grievous injury, for they killed his good\nsteed Veillantif. Thirty wounds did Veillantif receive, and he fell\ndead under his master. At last the Archbishop was stricken and Roland\nstood alone, for the heathen had fled from his presence.\n\nWhen Roland saw that the Archbishop was dead, his heart was sorely\ntroubled in him. Never did he feel a greater sorrow for comrade slain,\nsave Oliver only. \"Charles of France,\" he said, \"come as quickly as\nyou may! Many a gallant knight have you lost in Roncesvalles. But King\nMarsilas, on his part, has lost his army. For one that has fallen on\nthis side there have fallen full forty on that.\" So saying he turned\nto the Archbishop; he crossed the dead man's hands upon his breast and\nsaid, \"I commit thee to the Father's mercy. Never has man served God\nwith a better will, never since the beginning of the world has there\nlived a sturdier champion of the faith. May God be good to you and\ngive you all good things!\"\n\nNow Roland felt that his own death was near at hand. In one hand he\ntook his horn, and in the other his good sword Durendal, and made his\nway the distance of a furlong or so till he came to a plain, and in\nthe midst of the plain a little hill. On the top of the hill in the\nshade of two fair trees were four marble steps. There Roland fell in a\nswoon upon the grass. There a certain Saracen spied him. The fellow\nhad feigned death, and had laid himself down among the slain, having\ncovered his body and his face with blood. When he saw Roland, he\nraised himself from where he was lying among the slain and ran to the\nplace, and, being full of pride and fury, seized the Count in his\narms, crying aloud, \"He is conquered, he is conquered, he is\nconquered, the famous nephew of King Charles! See, here is his sword;\n'tis a noble spoil that I shall carry back with me to Arabia.\"\nThereupon he took the sword in one hand, with the other he laid hold\nof Roland's beard.\n\nBut as the man laid hold, Roland came to himself, and knew that some\none was taking his sword from him. He opened his eyes but not a word\ndid he speak save this only, \"Fellow, you are none of ours,\" and he\nsmote him a mighty blow upon his helmet. The steel he brake through\nand the head beneath, and laid the man dead at his feet. \"Coward,\" he\nsaid, \"what made you so bold that you dared lay hands on Roland?\nWhosoever knows him will think you a fool for your deed.\"\n\n[Illustration: ROLAND'S OWN DEATH WAS VERY NEAR]\n\nAnd now Roland knew that death was near at hand. He raised himself and\ngathered all his strength together--ah me! how pale his face was!--and\ntook in his hand his good sword Durendal. Before him was a great rock\nand on this in his rage and pain he smote ten mighty blows. Loud\nrang the steel upon the stone; but it neither brake nor splintered.\n\"Help me,\" he cried, \"O Mary, our Lady! O my good sword, my Durendal,\nwhat an evil lot is mine! In the day when I must part with you, my\npower over you is lost. Many a battle I have won with your help; and\nmany a kingdom have I conquered, that my lord Charles possesses this\nday. Never has any one possessed you that would fly before another. So\nlong as I live, you shall not be taken from me, so long have you been\nin the hands of a loyal knight.\"\n\nThen he smote a second time with the sword, this time upon the marble\nsteps. Loud rang the steel, but neither brake nor splintered. Then\nRoland began to bemoan himself. \"O my good Durendal,\" he said, \"how\nbright and clear thou art, shining as shines the sun! Well I mind me\nof the day when a voice that seemed to come from heaven bade King\nCharles give thee to a valiant captain; and forthwith the good King\ngirded it on my side. Many a land have I conquered with thee for him,\nand now how great is my grief! Can I die and leave thee to be handled\nby some heathen?\" And the third time he smote a rock with it. Loud\nrang the steel, but it brake not, bounding back as though it would\nrise to the sky. And when Count Roland saw that he could not break the\nsword, he spake again but with more content in his heart. \"O\nDurendal,\" he said, \"a fair sword art thou, and holy as fair. There\nare holy relics in thy hilt, relics of St. Peter and St. Denis and St.\nBasil. These heathen shall never possess thee; nor shalt thou be held\nbut by a Christian hand.\"\n\nAnd now Roland knew that death was very near to him. He laid himself\ndown with his head upon the grass, putting under him his horn and his\nsword, with his face turned towards the heathen foe. Ask you why he\ndid so? To show, forsooth, to Charlemagne and the men of France that\nhe died in the midst of victory. This done, he made a loud confession\nof his sins, stretching his hand to heaven, \"Forgive me, Lord,\" he\ncried, \"my sins, little and great, all that I have committed since the\nday of my birth to this hour in which I am stricken to death.\" So he\nprayed; and, as he lay, he thought of many things, of the countries\nwhich he had conquered, and of his dear fatherland France, and of his\nkinsfolk, and of the good King Charles. Nor, as he thought, could he\nkeep himself from sighs and tears; yet one thing he remembered beyond\nall others--to pray for forgiveness of his sins. \"O Lord,\" he said,\n\"who art the God of truth, and didst save Daniel Thy prophet from the\nlions, do Thou save my soul and defend it against all perils!\" So\nspeaking he raised his right hand, with the gauntlet yet upon it, to\nthe sky, and his head fell back upon his arm and the angels carried\nhim to heaven. So died the great Count Roland.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CID\n\n[Illustration: THE YOUTHFUL CID AVENGING THE DEATH OF HIS FATHER]\n\n\nUnlike some of the other heroes told about in this book, the Cid was a\nreal man, whose name was Rodrigo Diaz, or Ruydiez. He was born in\nBurgos in the eleventh century and won the name of \"Cid,\" which means\n\"Conqueror,\" by defeating five Moorish kings. This happened after\nSpain had been in the hands of the Arabs for more than three hundred\nyears, so it is small wonder that the Spaniards looked upon their hero\nas a very remarkable man.\n\nWhen Rodrigo was still a youth, his father, Diego Laynez, was grossly\ninsulted by Don Gomez. The custom in those days was to avenge such an\ninsult by slaying the offender; but Diego was too old and feeble to\nbear arms. When he finally told his son of the wrong, Rodrigo sought\nout Don Gomez and challenged him to fight. So bravely and skilfully\ndid Rodrigo manage his weapons that he slew his father's enemy. Then\nhe cut off the head and carried it to Diego.\n\nSoon after this Diego bade his son do homage at King Ferdinand's\ncourt. Rodrigo appeared before the king, but his bearing was so\ndefiant that Ferdinand was frightened, and banished him.\n\nRodrigo departed with three hundred followers, encountered some Moors,\nwho were invading Castile, defeated them and took five of their kings\ncaptive, releasing them only after they had promised to pay tribute\nand to refrain from further warfare. It was these kings who first\ncalled him \"Cid.\"\n\nIn return for his brave service Rodrigo was restored to favor and\ngiven place among the king's courtiers.\n\nOne day Dona Ximena, daughter of Don Gomez, appeared and demanded\njustice from the king. Recognizing Rodrigo among the courtiers, she\ncalled to him to slay her also. But both demand and cry were unheeded,\nfor the king had been too well served by Rodrigo to listen to any\naccusation against him.\n\nThree times the maiden returned with the same request, and each time\nshe came she heard greater praise of the young hero. At last she\ndecided to alter her demand. A fourth time she returned, consenting to\nforego all thoughts of vengeance if the king would order the young\nhero to marry her. The Cid was very willing, for he had learned to\nlove the girl, admiring her beauty and spirit.\n\nThe marriage was celebrated with great pomp and the king gave Rodrigo\nfour cities as a marriage portion. Rodrigo, vowing that he would not\nbe worthy of his wife until he had won five battles, after a pious\npilgrimage to the shrine of the patron saint, hastened off to\nCalahorra, a frontier town claimed by two kings--the kings of Castile\nand Oregon.\n\nIt had been decided that the dispute over the town should be settled\nby combat. Rodrigo became the champion of Ferdinand of Castile. The\nother champion, Martin Gonzalez, began, as soon as the combat opened,\nto taunt the Cid.\n\n\"Never again will you mount your favorite steed Babie\u00e7a,\" he said,\n\"never will you return to your castle; never will you see your beloved\nXimena again.\"\n\nBut the Cid was undaunted, and had soon laid his enemy low. Great\npraise then was given to the Cid--so great that the knights of Castile\nwere jealous and plotted to kill him. But the Moorish kings whom he\nhad captured and released warned him in time to avert the danger.\n\nThen the Cid aided Ferdinand in defeating the hostile Moors in\nEstremadura, after a siege of Coimbra lasting seven months. Several\nother victories over his country's enemies were added to this, and\nthen Rodrigo returned to his beloved wife.\n\nBut not for long was he permitted to remain in the quiet of home.\nHenry III, Emperor of Germany, complained to the Pope that King\nFerdinand had refused to acknowledge his superiority. The Pope sent a\nmessage to Ferdinand, demanding homage and tribute. The demand angered\nboth Ferdinand and the Cid.\n\n\"Never yet have we done homage,\" cried the Cid, \"and shall we now bow\nto a stranger?\"\n\nA proud refusal was then sent to the Pope, and he, knowing of no\nbetter way to settle the dispute, bade Henry send a champion to meet\nRodrigo. The emperor's champion was, of course, defeated, and all of\nFerdinand's enemies were so awed by the outcome of the fight that none\never again demanded homage or tribute. Rodrigo was, indeed, a very\nuseful subject. When Ferdinand died, he was succeeded by his son, Don\nSancho. The latter, planning a visit to Rome, selected the Cid to\naccompany him. Arriving, they found that in the preparations that had\nbeen made for their reception a lower seat had been prepared for Don\nSancho than for the King of France. The Cid would not suffer such a\nslight, and became so violent that the Pope excommunicated him.\nNevertheless, the seats were made of equal height, and the Cid, who\nwas a good Catholic, humbled himself before the Pope and was forgiven.\n\nIt was an age of great wars, and the Cid aided his king in many a\nbrave fight. At last, in the siege of Zamora, the king was\ntreacherously murdered, and, as he had no sons, Don Alfonso, his\nbrother, succeeded. When he arrived at Zamora the Cid refused to\nacknowledge Alfonso until he should swear that he had no part in the\nmurder. The king, angered by the Cid's attitude, plotted revenge.\nOpportunity came during a war with the Moors, and the Cid was banished\nupon a slight pretext.\n\n\"I obey, O king,\" replied the Cid, when he heard the decree. \"I am\nmore ready to serve you than you are to reward me. I pray that you may\nnever more in battle need the right arm and sword that so often served\nyour father.\"\n\nThen the Cid rode away, through a crowd of weeping people, and camped\noutside of the city until he could make definite plans. The people\nlonged to bring him food or offer him shelter, but they feared the\ndispleasure of the king. One old man, however, crept outside of the\ncity with food, declaring that he cared \"not a fig\" for Alfonso's\ncommands.\n\nThe Cid needed money, and to get it he pledged two locked coffers to\nsome Jews. The Jews in those days were much despised by the\nChristians, though usually very wealthy. The men, thinking that the\nboxes contained vast treasures, when in reality they were filled with\nsand, advanced the Cid 600 marks of gold. Then the hero bade farewell\nto his wife and children and rode away, vowing that he would return,\ncovered with glory and carrying with him rich spoils.\n\nWithin two weeks' time the Cid and his little band of followers had\ncaptured two Moorish strongholds and carried off much spoil. The Cid\nthen prepared a truly royal present and sent it to the king. Alfonso,\nupon receiving the gift, pardoned the Cid, and published an edict\npermitting all who wished to join in the fight against the Moors to\njoin Rodrigo and his band.\n\nToledo, thanks to the valor of the Cid, soon fell into the hands of\nAlfonso, but a misunderstanding arose and the king insulted the Cid.\nThe latter, in great rage, left the army and made a sudden raid on\nCastile. Then the Moors, knowing that the Cid had departed, took\ncourage and captured Valencia. But the Cid, hearing of the disaster,\npromptly returned, recaptured the city, and sent a message to Alfonso\nasking for his wife and daughters. At the same time he sent more than\nthe promised sum of money to the Jews, who up to this time had not\nlearned that the coffers were filled with sand. To the messenger he\nsaid:\n\n\"Tell them, that although they can find nothing in the coffers but\nsand, they will find that the pure gold of my truth lies beneath the\nsand.\"\n\nAs the Cid was now master of Valencia, and of vast wealth, his\ndaughters were sought in marriage by many suitors, and the marriage of\nboth girls was celebrated with great splendor. But the Counts of\nCarrion, their husbands, were not brave men like the Cid, and after\nlingering at Valencia in idleness for two years, their weakness was\nclearly shown.\n\nOne evening while the Cid was sleeping, a lion broke loose from his\nprivate menagerie and entered the room where he lay. The two princes,\nwho were playing in the room, fled, one in his haste falling into an\nempty vat, and the other taking refuge behind the Cid's couch. The\nroaring of the lion wakened the Cid, and jumping up he seized his\nsword, caught the lion by the mane, led it back to its cage, and\ncalmly returned to his place.\n\nThe cowardly conduct of the Counts of Carrion roused the anger of the\nCid's followers, and in the siege of Valencia that followed their\nconduct brought only contempt. When the Moors were finally driven away\nthe counts asked permission to return home with their brides and\ngifts.\n\nSo the Cid parted from his daughters, weeping at the loss. The\nprocession started. The first morning the counts sent their escorts\nahead, and, left alone with their wives, stripped them of their\ngarments, beat them and kicked them, and left them for dead. But Felez\nMu\u00f1oz, a loyal follower of the Cid's, riding back, found the two\nwives, bound up their wounds and obtained shelter for them in the\nhouse of a poor man whose wife and daughters promised to nurse them.\nThen he rode on to tell the Cid. The Cid swore that he would be\navenged, and as Alfonso was responsible for the marriage, he applied\nto him for redress.\n\nThe king, who had long since forgiven the Cid and learned to value his\nservices, was very angry. A battle was finally arranged. The Counts of\nCarrion and their uncle were defeated and banished, and the Cid\nreturned in triumph to Valencia. Here his daughters' second marriage\ntook place.\n\nThe Moors returned five years later, and the Cid was prepared to meet\nthem when he received a vision of St. Peter, predicting that he would\ndie within thirty days, but that even though dead he would triumph\nover his enemy. He accordingly made preparations for his death, and\nafter appointing a successor, he gave instructions that none should\nweep over his death, and that his body when embalmed should be set\nupon his horse, Babie\u00e7a, and that, with his sword Tizona in his hand,\nhe should be led on a certain day against the enemy.\n\nThe hero died and his successor together with his wife Ximena strove\nto carry out his instructions. A battle was planned, and the Cid,\nstrapped upon his war horse, rode in the van. The Moors, filled with\nterror, fled before him.\n\nAfter the victory the body was placed in the Church of San Pedro de\nCarde\u00f1a, where for ten years it remained seated, in plain view of all.\n\n\nTranscriber's Notes:\n\nMinor printer errors (omitted or incorrect punctuation) have been\namended without note. Minor inconsistencies in hyphenation have been\nresolved where possible, or retained where there was no way to\ndetermine which was correct, again without note. Other errors have\nbeen amended, and are listed below.\n\nIllustrations have been shifted slightly so that they do not fall in\nthe middle of paragraphs. The frontispiece illustration has been moved\nto follow the title page, and the cover illustration has had the\ncaption from the List of Illustrations added. Minor punctuation\nvariations between the List of Illustrations and illustration captions\nhave been made consistent without note.\n\nSome of the earlier tales use Greek mythological names, while others\nuse the Roman equivalent (for example, Poseidon or Neptune, Ares or\nMars). Some Greek names use a Latin spelling (for example, Thermiscira\nrather than Thermiscyra), or have differing spelling in different\ntales (for example Hera and Her\u00e9). These have been left unchanged,\nexcept where there was an obvious error.\n\n\nList of Amendments:\n\nPage 11--Delhi amended to Delphi--\"So he traveled to Delphi ...\"\n\nPage 35--Petraus amended to Petraeus--\"... pierced a mighty Centaur,\nPetraeus, ...\"\n\nPage 102--stomaches amended to stomachs--\"... furnaces in their\nstomachs had likewise been extinguished, ...\"\n\nPage 134--Agammenon amended to Agamemnon--\"Then said King Agamemnon,\n\"But how ...\"\"\n\nPage 219--Brunhild amended to Kriemhild--\"Kriemhild promised to obey\nhis instructions, ...\"","title":"Myths and Legends of All Nations: Famous Stories from the Greek, German, English, Spanish,; Scandinavian, Danish, French, Russian, Bohemian, Italian; and other sources","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":83485}