{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_24935/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_24935","id":"gutenberg_24935","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/24935","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Legends -- Juvenile literature","Mythology -- Juvenile literature"],"text":"E-text prepared by Sigal Alon, Marcia Brooks, Sunflower, and the Project\nGutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net)\n\n\n\nNote: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n file which includes the original illustrations.\n See 24935-h.htm or 24935-h.zip:\n (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/9/3/24935/24935-h/24935-h.htm)\n or\n (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/9/3/24935/24935-h.zip)\n\n\n\n\n\nFAMOUS TALES OF FACT AND FANCY\n\nMyths and Legends\nof the Nations of the World\nRetold for Boys and Girls\n\nTranslated and Edited by\n\nLOGAN MARSHALL\n\nIllustrated\nWith Original Plates\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nPhiladelphia\nThe John C. Winston Company\nPublishers\n\nCopyright, MCMXIV\nL. F. Myers\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 the\nlife and history and religion of the great peoples of antiquity that\nthey have become an integral part of our own civilization, a heritage of\nwealth 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 AEneas, fabled founder of the race and hero of\nVirgil's world-famous Latin epic? Any understanding of German\ncivilisation 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 and\nmade 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 Athens\nin the height of her intellectual glory accepted the fabulous tales of\ngods and half-gods. Today we read and wonder. But the child, who in his\nbrief lifetime must live over in part at least the history of the whole\nrace, delights in the myths and legends which made his ancestors admire\nor tremble. They are naturally not so real to him as they were to his\nforefathers; yet they open up a rich and gorgeous wonderland, without\nexcursions into which every child must grow up the poorer in mind and\nspirit.\n\nTo the children of America, wherever they may be, this book is\ndedicated. It is sure to bring enjoyment, because its stories have stood\nthe test of time.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n PAGE\n\n PROMETHEUS THE FRIEND OF MAN 7\n\n THE LABORS OF HERCULES 11\n _From the German of Gustav Schwab._\n\n DEUCALION AND PYRRHA 29\n _From the German of Gustav Schwab._\n\n THESEUS AND THE CENTAUR 33\n _From the German of Gustav Schwab._\n\n NIOBE 37\n _From the German of Gustav Schwab._\n\n THE GORGON'S HEAD 41\n _From Hawthorne's \"Wonder Book.\"_\n\n THE GOLDEN FLEECE 67\n _From Hawthorne's \"Tanglewood Tales.\"_\n\n THE CYCLOPS 106\n _From Church's \"Stories from Homer.\"_\n\n OEDIPUS AND THE SPHINX 116\n _Adapted from Church's \"Stories from Greek Tragedians.\"_\n\n ANTIGONE, A FAITHFUL DAUGHTER AND SISTER 118\n _Adapted from Church's \"Stories from Greek Tragedians.\"_\n\n THE STORY OF IPHIGENIA 131\n _From Church's \"Stories from Greek Tragedians.\"_\n\n THE SACK OF TROY 153\n _From Church's \"Stories from Virgil.\"_\n\n BEOWULF AND GRENDEL 164\n _From Joyce Pollard's \"Stories from Old English\n Romance.\"_\n\n THE GOOD KING ARTHUR 179\n\n THE GREAT KNIGHT SIEGFRIED 214\n\n LOHENGRIN AND ELSA THE BEAUTIFUL 221\n _From the German of Robert Hertwig._\n\n FRITHIOF THE BOLD 226\n _From the German of Robert Hertwig._\n\n WAYLAND THE SMITH 231\n _From the German of Robert Hertwig._\n\n TWARDOWSKI, THE POLISH FAUST 237\n\n ILIA MUROMEC OF RUSSIA 243\n\n KRALEWITZ MARKO OF SERVIA 245\n\n THE DECISION OF LIBUSCHA 248\n\n COUNT ROLAND OF FRANCE 250\n _From Church's \"Stories of Charlemagne and the Peers\n of France.\"_\n\n THE CID 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 those\nTitans who had fought against Jupiter and been sent in chains to the\ngreat prison-house of the lower world, but for some reason had escaped\npunishment.\n\nPrometheus, however, did not care for idle life among the gods on Mount\nOlympus. Instead he preferred to spend his time on the earth, helping\nmen to find easier and better ways of living. For the children of earth\nwere not happy as they had been in the golden days when Saturn ruled.\nIndeed, they were very poor and wretched and cold, without fire, without\nfood, 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 men.\n\"Some other way must be found,\" he thought.\n\nThen, one day, as he was walking among some reeds he broke off one, and\nseeing 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 have\nthe 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 across\nthe sky. Lighting his reed, he hurried back, carefully guarding the\nprecious 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 animals\nand to till the fields and to mine precious metals and melt them into\ntools and weapons. And they came out of their dark and gloomy caves and\nbuilt for themselves beautiful houses of wood and stone. And instead of\nbeing sad and unhappy they began to laugh and sing. \"Behold, the Age of\nGold has come again,\" they said.\n\nBut Jupiter was not so happy. He saw that men were gaining daily greater\npower, 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 to\nOlympus.\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: THE HERO APPROACHED THE DREADFUL MONSTER]\n\n[Illustration: PROMETHEUS PUNISHED FOR HIS GIFT TO MAW]\n\n\"Epimetheus, here is a beautiful woman that Jupiter has sent to be your\nwife,\" he said.\n\nEpimetheus was delighted and soon loved Pandora very deeply, because of\nher beauty and her goodness.\n\nNow Pandora had brought with her as a gift from Jupiter a golden casket.\nAthena had warned her never to open the box, but she could not help\nwondering and wondering what it contained. Perhaps it held beautiful\njewels. 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 him\nto the highest peak of the Caucasus Mountains. Then he sent Vulcan to\nbind 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 the\nstorms beat about him and an eagle tore at his liver with its cruel\ntalons. 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 stopped\nto look at Prometheus with sad eyes.\n\n\"I know you,\" Prometheus said. \"You are Io, once a fair and happy maiden\ndwelling in Argos, doomed by Jupiter and his jealous queen to wander\nover the earth in this guise. Go southward and then west until you come\nto the great river Nile. There you shall again become a maiden, fairer\nthan ever before, and shall marry the king of that country. And from\nyour race shall spring the hero who will break my chains and set me\nfree.\"\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 the\ngods that the first descendant of Perseus should be the ruler of all the\nothers of his race. This honor was intended for the son of Perseus and\nAlcmene; but Juno was jealous and brought it about that Eurystheus, who\nwas also a descendant of Perseus, should be born before Theseus. So\nEurystheus became king in Mycene, and the later-born Hercules remained\ninferior 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 through\ncertain great tasks or labors. When Hercules did not immediately obey,\nJupiter himself sent word to him that he should fulfill his service to\nthe King of Greece.\n\nNevertheless the hero son of a god could not make up his mind easily to\nrender service to a mere mortal. So he traveled to Delhi and questioned\nthe 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 this\nis 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 giant\nTyphon and the snake Echidna; others that he had dropped down from the\nmoon 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 attained\nimmortality.\"\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, and\nnowhere could he discover any trace of the lion or any path that seemed\nto lead to his lair. He met no man in the field or in the forest: fear\nheld them all shut up in their distant dwellings. The whole afternoon he\nwandered through the thick undergrowth, determined to test his strength\njust as soon as he should encounter the lion.\n\nAt last, toward evening, the monster came through the forest, returning\nfrom his trap in a deep fissure of the earth.\n\nHe was saturated with blood: head, mane and breast were reeking, and his\ngreat tongue was licking his jaws. The hero, who saw him coming long\nbefore he was near, took refuge in a thicket and waited until the lion\napproached; then with his arrow he shot him in the side. But the shot\ndid not pierce his flesh; instead it flew back as if it had struck\nstone, 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 head,\nhe exposed his heart, and immediately Hercules let fly another arrow,\nhoping to pierce him through the lungs. Again the arrow did not enter\nthe 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 his\nback was bent like a bow. He sprang toward his enemy; but Hercules threw\nthe arrow and cast off the lion skin in which he was clothed with the\nleft hand, while with the right he swung his club over the head of the\nbeast and gave him such a blow on the neck that, all ready to spring as\nthe lion was, he fell back, and came to a stand on trembling legs, with\nshaking head. Before he could take another breath, Hercules was upon\nhim.\n\nThrowing down his bow and quiver, that he might be entirely\nunencumbered, he approached the animal from behind, threw his arm around\nhis neck and strangled him. Then for a long time he sought in vain to\nstrip the fallen animal of his hide. It yielded to no weapon or no\nstone. At last the idea occurred to him of tearing it with the animal's\nown claws, and this method immediately succeeded.\n\nLater he prepared for himself a coat of mail out of the lion's skin, and\nfrom the neck, a new helmet; but for the present he was content to don\nhis own costume and weapons, and with the lion's skin over his arm took\nhis way back to Tirynth.\n\n\nTHE SECOND LABOR\n\nThe second labor consisted in destroying a hydra. This monster dwelt in\nthe swamp of Lerna, but came occasionally over the country, destroying\nherds and laying waste the fields. The hydra was an enormous creature--a\nserpent with nine heads, of which eight were mortal 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 by\nhis 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, where\nits lair was found. Here Iolaus left the horses stand. Hercules leaped\nfrom the chariot and sought with burning arrows to drive the many-headed\nserpent from its hiding place. It came forth hissing, its nine heads\nraised and swaying like the branches of a tree in a storm.\n\nUndismayed, Hercules approached it, seized it, and held it fast. But the\nsnake wrapped itself around one of his feet. Then he began with his\nsword to cut off its heads. But this looked like an endless task, for no\nsooner had he cut off one head than two grew in its place. At the same\ntime an enormous crab came to the help of the hydra and began biting the\nhero's foot. Killing this with his club, he called to Iolaus 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 the\nhind Cerynitis. This was a noble animal, with horns of gold and feet of\niron. She lived on a hill in Arcadia, and was one of the five hinds\nwhich the goddess Diana had caught on her first hunt. This one, of all\nthe five, was permitted to run loose again in the woods, for it was\ndecreed by fate that Hercules should one day hunt her.\n\nFor a whole year Hercules pursued her; came at last to the river Ladon;\nand there captured the hind, not far from the city Oenon, on the\nmountains of Diana. But he knew of no way of becoming master of the\nanimal without wounding her, so he lamed her with an arrow and then\ncarried 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 from\nhim.\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 to\nMycene.\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 of\nPholus, the son of Silenus. Like all Centaurs, Pholus was half man and\nhalf horse. He received his guest with hospitality and set before him\nbroiled meat, while he himself ate raw. But Hercules, not satisfied with\nthis, wished also to have something good to drink.\n\n\"Dear guest,\" said Pholus, \"there is a cask in my cellar; but it belongs\nto all the Centaurs jointly, and I hesitate to open it because I know\nhow little they welcome guests.\"\n\n\"Open it with good courage,\" answered Hercules, \"I promise to defend you\nagainst 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 it\nuntil, 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, Chiron,\nHercules' old friend. To him his brother Centaurs had fled for\nprotection.\n\nBut Hercules still continued shooting, and sent an arrow through the arm\nof 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 arrow\nfrom the lifeless body of one Centaur, and while he was wondering how\nso small a thing could do such great damage, the poisoned arrow slipped\nthrough his fingers and pierced his foot, killing him instantly.\nHercules was very sad, and buried his body reverently beneath the\nmountain, which from that day was called Pholoe.\n\nThen Hercules continued his hunt for the boar, drove him with cries out\nof the thick of the woods, pursued him into a deep snow field, bound the\nexhausted animal, and brought him, as he had been commanded, alive to\nMycene.\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 were\nkept, according to the custom, in a great inclosure before the palace.\nThree thousand cattle were housed there, and as the stables had not been\ncleaned for many years, so much manure had accumulated that it seemed an\ninsult 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, the\nlatter measured the noble form in the lion-skin and could hardly refrain\nfrom laughing when he thought of so worthy a warrior undertaking so\nmenial a work. But he said to himself: \"Necessity has driven many a\nbrave man; perhaps this one wishes to enrich himself through me. That\nwill help him little. I can promise him a large reward if he cleans out\nthe stables, for he can in one day clear little enough.\" Then he spoke\nconfidently:\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 to\nshovel. But Hercules, after he had called the son of Augeas to witness\nthe agreement, tore the foundations away from one side of the stables;\ndirected to it by means of a canal the streams of Alpheus and Peneus\nthat flowed near by; and let the waters carry away the filth through\nanother opening. So he accomplished the menial work without stooping to\nanything 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 it;\nbut he declared himself ready to have the question settled in court.\nWhen the judges were assembled, Phyleus, commanded by Hercules to\nappear, testified against his father, and explained how he had agreed to\noffer Hercules a reward. Augeas did not wait for the decision; he grew\nangry and commanded his son as well as the stranger to leave his kingdom\ninstantly.\n\n\nTHE SIXTH LABOR\n\nHercules now returned with new adventures to Eurystheus; but the latter\nwould not give him credit for the task because Hercules had demanded a\nreward for his labor. He sent the hero forth upon a sixth adventure,\ncommanding him to drive away the Stymphalides. These were monster birds\nof prey, as large as cranes, with iron feathers, beaks and claws. They\nlived on the banks of Lake Stymphalus in Arcadia, and had the power of\nusing their feathers as arrows and piercing with their beaks even bronze\ncoats of mail. Thus they brought destruction to both animals and men in\nall the surrounding country.\n\nAfter a short journey Hercules, accustomed to wandering, arrived at the\nlake, which was thickly shaded by a wood. Into this wood a great flock\nof the birds had flown for fear of being robbed by wolves. The hero\nstood undecided when he saw the frightful crowd, not knowing how he\ncould become master over so many enemies. Then he felt a light touch on\nhis shoulder, and glancing behind him saw the tall figure of the goddess\nMinerva, who gave into his hands two mighty brass rattles made by\nVulcan. Telling him to use these to drive away the Stymphalides, she\ndisappeared.\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 awful\nnoise and flew, terrified, out of the forest. Then Hercules seized his\nbow and sent arrow after arrow in pursuit of them, shooting many as they\nflew. Those who were not killed left the lake and never returned.\n\n\nTHE SEVENTH LABOR\n\nKing Minos of Crete had promised Neptune (Poseidon), god of the sea, to\noffer to him whatever animal should first come up out of the water, for\nhe declared he had no animal that was worthy for so high a sacrifice.\nTherefore the god caused a very beautiful ox to rise out of the sea. But\nthe king was so taken with the noble appearance of the animal that he\nsecretly placed it among his own herds and offered another to Neptune.\nAngered by this, the god had caused the animal to become mad, and it was\nbringing great destruction to the island of Crete. To capture this\nanimal, master it, and bring it before Eurystheus, was the seventh labor\nof 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 the\nwhole 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 Hercules'\nmanagement, the ox became wild again, wandered through all Laconia and\nArcadia, crossed over the isthmus to Marathon in Attica and devastated\nthe country there as formerly on the island of Crete. Later it was given\nto 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 that\nthey had to be fastened with iron chains. Their fodder was chiefly hay;\nbut strangers who had the misfortune to come into the city were thrown\nbefore 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 before\nhis own mares. With this food the animals were satisfied and Hercules\nwas able to drive them to the sea.\n\nBut the Bistonians followed him with weapons, and Hercules was forced to\nturn and fight them. He gave the horses into the keeping of his beloved,\ncompanion Abderus, the son of Mercury, and while Hercules was away the\nanimals 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. For\nthe present he was content to master the mares and drive them without\nfurther 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 against\nthe Amazons in order to finish the ninth adventure and bring to King\nEurystheus the sword belt of the Amazon Hippolyta.\n\nThe Amazons inhabited the region of the river Thermodon and were a race\nof strong women who followed the occupations of men. From their children\nthey selected only such as were girls. United in an army, they waged\ngreat wars. Their queen, Hippolyta, wore, as a sign of her leadership, a\ngirdle which the goddess of war had given her as a present.\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. Here\nthe 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, the\nrelentless enemy of Hercules, assuming the form of an Amazon, mingled\namong the others and spread the news that a stranger was about to lead\naway their queen. Then the Amazons fought with the warriors of Hercules,\nand the best fighters of them attacked the hero and gave him a hard\nbattle.\n\nThe first who began fighting with him was called, because of her\nswiftness, Aella, 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; then\nProthoe, the third, who had come off victor in seven duels, also fell.\nHercules laid low eight others, among them three hunter companions of\nDiana, who, although formerly always certain with their weapons, today\nfailed in their aim, and vainly covering themselves with their shields\nfell before the arrows of the hero. Even Alkippe fell, who had sworn to\nlive her whole live unmarried: the vow she kept, but not her life.\n\nAfter even Melanippe, the brave leader of the Amazons, was made captive,\nall the rest took to wild flight, and Hippolyta the queen handed over\nthe sword belt which she had promised even before the fight. Hercules\ntook 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 to\nprocure the cattle of the giant Geryone. The latter dwelt on an island\nin the midst of the sea, and possessed a herd of beautiful red-brown\ncattle; which were guarded by another giant and a two-headed dog.\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 necessary\nfor this heavy undertaking. As everybody knew, Geryone's father, who\nbore the name \"Gold-Sword\" because of his riches, was king of all Iberia\n(Spain). Besides Geryone he had three brave giant sons who fought for\nhim; and each son had a mighty army of soldiers under his command. For\nthese very reasons had Eurystheus given the task to Hercules, for he\nhoped that his hated existence would at last be ended in a war in such a\ncountry. Yet Hercules set out on this undertaking no more dismayed than\non any previous expedition.\n\nHe gathered together his army on the island of Crete, which he had freed\nfrom wild animals, and landed first in Libya. Here he met the giant\nAntaeus, whose strength was renewed as often as he touched the earth. He\nalso freed Libya of birds of prey; for he hated wild animals and wicked\nmen because he saw in all of them the image of the overbearing and\nunjust 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 the\nbark in which he himself was accustomed to lie from sunset to sunrise.\nIn 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 the\nland. Then he sailed to the island Erythia, where Geryone dwelt with his\nherds.\n\nAs soon as the two-headed dog knew of his approach he sprang toward him;\nbut Hercules struck him with his club and killed him. He killed also the\ngiant herdsman who came to the help of the dog. Then he hurried away\nwith 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 in\nthe heart, and the goddess, wounded, fled. Even the threefold body of\nthe 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 fearful\nhissing sound warned one of his presence, for each of his hundred\nthroats had a different voice. From this monster, so was the command of\nEurystheus, should Hercules seize the golden apples.\n\nThe hero set out on his long and adventurous journey and placed himself\nin the hands of blind chance, for he did not know where the Hesperides\ndwelt.\n\nHe went first to Thessaly, where dwelt the giant Termerus, who with his\nskull knocked to death every traveler that he met; but on the mighty\ncranium of Hercules the head of the giant himself was split open.\n\nFarther on the hero came upon another monster in his way, Cycnus, the son\nof Mars and Pyrene. He, when asked concerning the garden of the\nHesperides, instead of answering, challenged the wanderer to a duel, and\nwas beaten by Hercules. Then appeared Mars, the god of war, himself, to\navenge the death of his son; and Hercules was forced to fight with him.\nBut Jupiter did not wish that his sons should shed blood, and sent his\nlightning bolt to separate the two.\n\nThen Hercules continued his way through Illyria, hastened over the river\nEridanus, and came to the nymphs of Jupiter and Themis, who dwelt on the\nbanks 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 oracular\nmessage that the land would again bear fruit if a stranger were\nsacrificed once a year to Jupiter. In gratitude Busiris made a beginning\nwith the priest himself. Later he found great pleasure in the custom and\nkilled all strangers who came to Egypt. So Hercules was seized and\nplaced on the altar of Jupiter. But he broke the chains which bound him,\nand killed Busiris and his son and the priestly herald.\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 the\nweight of the heavens on his shoulders. Near him grew the tree which\nbore 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 giant\noffered to do this if Hercules would support the heavens while he went.\nThis Hercules consented to do, and Atlas set out. He put to sleep the\ndragon who lived beneath the tree and killed him. Then with a trick he\ngot the better of the keepers, and returned happily to Hercules with the\nthree 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.\" Then\nhe threw the apples down at the feet of the hero, and left him standing\nwith the unaccustomed, awful weight upon his shoulders.\n\nHercules had to think of a trick in order to get away. \"Let me,\" he said\nto the giant, \"just make a coil of rope to bind around my head, so that\nthe 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 way\nback. He carried the apples to Eurystheus, who, since his object of\ngetting rid of the hero had not been accomplished, gave them back to\nHercules as a present. The latter laid them on the altar of Minerva; but\nthe goddess, knowing that it was contrary to the divine wishes to carry\naway this sacred fruit, returned the apples to the garden of the\nHesperides.\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 hero\nstrength--so the impious king hoped--would not accompany him. This was a\nfight with the dark powers of the underworld. He was to bring forth from\nHades Cerberus, the dog of Hell. This animal had three heads with\nfrightful jaws, from which incessantly poison flowed. A dragon's tail\nhung from his body, and the hair of his head and of his back formed\nhissing, coiling serpents.\n\nTo prepare himself for this fearful journey Hercules went to the city of\nEleusis, in Attic territory, where, from a wise priest, he received\nsecret instruction in the things of the upper and lower world, and where\nalso 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, which\ncontained the opening to the lower world. Here, accompanied by Mercury,\nhe descended through a cleft in the earth, and came to the entrance of\nthe city of King Pluto. The shades which sadly wandered back and forth\nbefore the gates of the city took flight as soon as they caught sight of\nflesh and blood in the form of a living man. Only the Gorgon Medusa and\nthe spirit of Meleager remained. The former Hercules wished to overthrow\nwith his sword, but Mercury touched him on the arm and told him that the\nsouls of the departed were only empty shadow pictures and could not be\nwounded 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 of\nCerberus without using any weapons. So the hero set out, protected only\nwith 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 like\nthe echo of fearful resounding thunder, he seized the dog by the legs,\nput his arms around his neck, and would not let him go, although the\ndragon 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 dog\nof Hades saw the light of day he was afraid and began to spit poison,\nfrom which poisonous plants sprung up out of the earth. Hercules brought\nthe monster in chains to Tirynth, and led it before the astonished\nEurystheus, 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, who\nled 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 service\nof 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 of\ntheir wickedness were carried to Jupiter. The god decided to verify the\nreports by coming to earth himself in the form of a man, and everywhere\nhe went he found that the reports were much milder than the truth.\n\nOne evening in the late twilight he entered the inhospitable shelter of\nthe Arcadian King Lycaon, who was famed for his wild conduct. By several\nsigns he let it be known that he was a god, and the crowd dropped to\ntheir 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 to\nfur; his arms to legs; he was transformed into a blood-thirsty 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 aside\nthe thunderbolt which the Cyclops had fashioned for him, and decided to\nsend rain from heaven over all the earth and so destroy the race of\nmortals.\n\nImmediately the North Wind and all the other cloud-scattering winds were\nlocked in the cave of Aeolus, and only the South Wind sent out. The\nlatter descended upon the earth; his frightful face was covered with\ndarkness; his beard was heavy with clouds; from his white hair ran the\nflood; mists lay upon his brow; from his bosom dropped the water. The\nSouth Wind grasped the heavens, seized in his hands the surrounding\nclouds and began to squeeze them. The thunder rolled; floods of rain\nburst from the heavens. The standing corn was bent to the earth;\ndestroyed was the hope of the farmer; destroyed the weary work of a\nwhole 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 through\nall dams!\"\n\nThey followed his command, and Neptune himself struck the earth with his\ntrident and let the flood enter. Then the waters streamed over the open\nmeadows, covered the fields, dislodged trees, temples and houses.\nWherever a palace stood, its gables were soon covered with water and the\nhighest turrets were hidden in the torrent. Sea and earth were no longer\ndivided; 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 the\nflood; people were swept away by the water and those whom the flood\nspared died of hunger on the barren mountains.\n\nOne high mountain in the country of Phocis still raised two peaks above\nthe surrounding waters. It was the great Mount Parnassus. Toward this\nfloated a boat containing Deucalion, the son of Prometheus, and his\nwife Pyrrha. No man, no woman, had ever been found who surpassed these\nin righteousness and piety. When, therefore, Jupiter, looking down from\nheaven upon the earth, saw that only a single pair of mortals remained\nof the many thousand times a thousand, both blameless, both devoted\nservants of the gods, he sent forth the North Wind, recalled the clouds,\nand once again separated the earth from the heavens and the heavens from\nthe 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 as\nbefore.\n\nDeucalion looked around him. The country was laid waste; it was wrapped\nin the silence of the grave. Tears rolled down his cheeks and he said to\nhis wife, Pyrrha, \"Beloved, solitary companion of my life, as far as I\ncan see through all the surrounding country, I can discover no living\ncreature. We two must people the earth; all the rest have been drowned\nby the flood. But even we are not yet certain of our lives. Every cloud\nthat I see strikes terror to my soul. And even if danger is past, what\nshall we do alone on the forsaken earth? Oh, that my father Prometheus\nhad taught me the art of creating men and breathing life into them!\"\n\nThen the two began to weep. They threw themselves on their knees before\nthe half-destroyed altar of the goddess Themis, and began to pray,\nsaying, \"Tell us? O goddess, by what means we can replace the race that\nhas disappeared? Oh, help the earth to new life.\"\n\n\"Leave my altar,\" sounded the voice of the goddess. \"Uncover your heads,\nungird your garments and cast the bones of your mother behind you.\"\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, O\nnoble goddess,\" she said, \"if I do not obey you and cannot consent to\nscatter 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 and\ninvolves no impiety. The great mother of all of us is the Earth; her\nbones are the stones, and these, Pyrrha, we will cast behind us!\"\n\nBoth mistrusted this interpretation of the words, but what harm would it\ndo to try? Thereupon they uncovered their heads, ungirded their garments\nand 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 threw,\nthe 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, he\nhad what he desired. He did not flee, but turned around to meet him.\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 the\ndispute about the cattle: whatever satisfaction Theseus would demand\nPirithous would willingly give.\n\n\"The only satisfaction which I desire,\" answered Pirithous, \"is that you\ninstead 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 Lapithae, for his bride, and invited Theseus to the\nwedding. The Lapithae, among whom the ceremony took place, were a famous\nfamily of Thessalians, rugged mountaineers, in some respects resembling\nanimals--the first mortals who had learned to manage a horse. But the\nbride, who had sprung from this race, was not at all like the men of her\npeople. She was of noble form, with delicate, youthful face, so\nbeautiful that all the guests praised Pirithous for his 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 born\nto Ixion, the father of Pirithous. They were the eternal enemies of the\nLapithae. Upon this occasion, however, and for the sake of the bride,\nthey 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 Lapithae 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. Then\nthe wine began to stir the heart of the wildest of the Centaurs,\nEurytion, and the beauty of the Princess Hippodamia awoke in him the mad\ndesire of robbing the bridegroom of his bride. Nobody knew how it came\nto 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 Lapithae 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 stolen\nbride from the struggling robber.\n\nEurytion said nothing, for he could not excuse his deed, but he lifted\nhis hand toward Theseus and gave him a rough knock in the chest. Then\nTheseus, who had no weapon at hand, seized an iron jug of embossed\nworkmanship which stood near by and flung it into the face of his\nopponent with such force that the Centaur fell backward on the ground,\nwhile 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 the\ngaping wound of one of the fallen Lapithae, so that the blood hissed like\niron in a furnace. In opposition to him rose Dryas, the bravest of the\nLapithae, and seizing a glowing log from the fire, thrust it into the\nCentaur's neck. The fate of this Centaur atoned for the death of his\nfallen companion, and Dryas turned to the raging mob and laid five of\nthem low.\n\nThen the spear of the brave hero Pirithous flew forth and pierced a\nmighty Centaur, Petraus, just as he was about to uproot a tree to use it\nfor 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 off\na 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, shoulders,\nhands and breast were as beautiful as if formed by an artist. Even the\nlower part of his body, the part which resembled a horse, was faultless,\npitch-black in color, with legs and tail of lighter dye. He had come to\nthe feast with his wife, the beautiful Centaur, Hylonome, who at the\ntable had leaned gracefully against him and even now united with him in\nthe raging fight. He received from an unknown hand a light wound near\nhis heart, and sank dying in the arms of his wife. Hylonome nursed his\ndying form, kissed him and tried to retain the fleeting breath. When she\nsaw that he was gone she drew a dagger from her breast and stabbed\nherself.\n\nFor a long time still the fight between the Lapithae 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 husband,\nhad received from the Muses a wonderful lyre, to the music of which the\nstones of the royal palace had of themselves assumed place. Her father\nwas Tantalus, who had been entertained by the gods; and she herself was\nthe ruler of a powerful kingdom and a woman of great pride of spirit and\nmajestic beauty. But of none of these things was she so proud as she was\nof her fourteen lovely children, the seven sons and seven daughters to\nwhom 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 very\nknowledge of her good fortune was her undoing.\n\nOne day the prophetess Manto, daughter of the soothsayer Tiresias, being\ninstructed of the gods, called together the women of Thebes to do honor\nto the goddess Latona and her two children, Apollo and Diana. \"Put\nlaurel 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 walls\nof which were put together by the music that my husband played. Every\ncorner of my palace is filled with priceless treasures; and there, too,\nare other treasures--children such as no other mother can show: seven\nbeautiful daughters, seven sturdy sons, and just as many sons- and\ndaughters-in-law. Ask now whether I have ground for pride. Consider\nagain before you honor more than me Latona, the unknown daughter of the\nTitans, who could find no place in the whole earth in which she might\nrest and give birth to her children until the island of Delos in\ncompassion offered her a precarious shelter. There she became the mother\nof two children--the poor creature! Just the seventh part of my mother\njoy! Who can deny that I am fortunate? Who will doubt that I shall\nremain happy? Fortune would have a hard time if she undertook to shatter\nmy happiness. Take this or that one from my treasured children; but when\nwould the number of them dwindle to the sickly two of Latona? Away with\nyour sacrifices! Take the laurel out of your hair. Go back to your homes\nand let me never see such foolishness again!\"\n\nFrightened at the outburst, the women removed the wreaths from their\nheads, left their sacrifices and slunk home, still honoring Latona with\nsilent 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, who\nyield place to no goddess except Juno, I am held up to ridicule by an\nupstart mortal, and if you do not defend me, my children, I shall be\ndriven away from the ancient and holy altars. Yes, you too are insulted\nby Niobe, and she would like to have you set aside for her children!\"\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 reached\nthe town and castle of Cadmus.\n\nJust outside the walls of the city was an open field that was used as a\nrace-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 he\nheard that all his sons had perished, fell on his own sword. Then the\nloud 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 city\nwith haughty mien. Crazed with grief she rushed out to the field where\nher sons had been stricken, threw herself on their dead bodies, kissing\nnow this one and now that. Then, raising her arms to heaven, she cried,\n\"Look now upon my distress, thou cruel Latona; for the death of these\nseven bows me to the earth. Triumph thou, O my victorious 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 sight\nof them brought a ray of joy to Niobe's white face. She forgot her grief\nfor a moment, and casting a scornful look to heaven, said, \"Victor! No,\nfor even in my loss I have more than thou in thy happiness!\"\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 lap\nand 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 mountains\nunder the stony cliffs of Sipylus. Here Niobe remained fixed as a marble\nstatue on the summit of the mountain, and to this very day you can see\nthe grief-stricken mother in tears.\n\n[Illustration: THE CENTAUR FELL BACKWARD]\n\n[Illustration: PERSEUS SLAYING THE MEDUSA]\n\n\n\n\nTHE GORGON'S HEAD\n\n\nPerseus was the son of Danae, 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 billows\ntossed it up and down; while Danae clasped her child closely to her\nbosom, and dreaded that some big wave would dash its foamy crest over\nthem both. The chest sailed on, however, and neither sank nor was upset,\nuntil, when night was coming, it floated so near an island that it got\nentangled in a fisherman's nets and was drawn out high and dry upon the\nsand. This island was called Seriphus and it was reigned over by King\nPolydectes, who happened to be the fisherman's brother.\n\nThis fisherman, I am glad to tell you, was an exceedingly humane and\nupright man. He showed great kindness to Danae 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 mother\nand her child--who had come to his dominions in a floating chest. As he\nwas not good and kind, like his brother the fisherman, but extremely\nwicked, he resolved to send Perseus on a dangerous enterprise, in which\nhe would probably be killed, and then to do some great mischief to Danae\nherself. So this bad-hearted king spent a long while in considering what\nwas the most dangerous thing that a young man could possibly undertake\nto perform. At last, having hit upon an enterprise that promised to turn\nout as fatally as he desired, he sent for 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 great\npiece of good luck to have so rare an opportunity of distinguishing\nyourself. You must know, my good Perseus, I think of getting married to\nthe beautiful Princess Hippodamia, and it is customary on these\noccasions to make the bride a present of some far-fetched and elegant\ncuriosity. I have been a little perplexed, I must honestly confess,\nwhere to obtain anything likely to please a princess of her exquisite\ntaste. But this morning, I flatter myself, I have thought of precisely\nthe article.\"\n\n\"And can I assist your Majesty in obtaining it?\" cried Perseus, eagerly.\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 gift\nwhich I have set my heart on presenting to the beautiful Hippodamia is\nthe head of the Gorgon Medusa with the snaky locks; and I depend on you,\nmy dear Perseus, to bring it to me. So, as I am anxious to settle\naffairs with the princess, the sooner you go in quest of the Gorgon, the\nbetter 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 as\nnot to injure its appearance. You must bring it home in the very best\ncondition in order to suit the exquisite taste of the beautiful Princess\nHippodamia.\"\n\nPerseus left the palace, but was scarcely out of hearing before\nPolydectes burst into a laugh, being greatly amused, wicked king that he\nwas, to find how readily the young man fell into the snare. The news\nquickly spread abroad that Perseus had undertaken to cut off the head of\nMedusa with the snaky locks. Everybody was rejoiced, for most of the\ninhabitants of the island were as wicked as the king himself and would\nhave liked nothing better than to see some enormous mischief happen to\nDanae and her son. The only good man in this unfortunate island of\nSeriphus appears to have been the fisherman. As Perseus walked along,\ntherefore, the people pointed after him and made mouths, and winked to\none 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 be\nseen 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 and\nmischievous species of dragon. It is, indeed, difficult to imagine what\nhideous beings these three sisters were. Why, instead of locks of hair,\nif you can believe men, they had each of them a hundred enormous snakes\ngrowing on their heads, all alive, twisting, wriggling, curling and\nthrusting out their venomous tongues, with forked stings at the end! The\nteeth of the Gorgons were terribly long tusks, their hands were made of\nbrass, and their bodies were all over scales, which, if not iron, were\nsomething as hard and impenetrable. They had wings, too, and exceedingly\nsplendid ones, I can assure you, for every feather in them was pure,\nbright, glittering, burnished gold; and they looked very dazzling, no\ndoubt, when the Gorgons were flying about in the 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, that\nthey were afraid of being stung by the serpents that served the Gorgons\ninstead of hair--or of having their heads bitten off by their ugly\ntusks--or of being torn all to pieces by their brazen claws. Well, to be\nsure, these were some of the dangers, but by no means the greatest nor\nthe most difficult to avoid. For the worst thing about these abominable\nGorgons was that if once a poor mortal fixed his eyes full upon one of\ntheir faces, he was certain that very instant to be changed from warm\nflesh 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 it,\nand that he was far more likely to become a stone image than to bring\nback the head of Medusa with the snaky locks. For, not to speak of other\ndifficulties, there was one which it would have puzzled an older man\nthan Perseus to get over. Not only must he fight with and slay this\ngolden-winged, iron-scaled, long-tusked, brazen-clawed, snaky-haired\nmonster, but he must do it with his eyes shut, or, at least, without so\nmuch as a glance at the enemy with whom he was contending. Else, while\nhis arm was lifted to strike, he would stiffen into stone and stand\nwith that uplifted arm for centuries, until time and the wind and\nweather should crumble him quite away. This would be a very sad thing to\nbefall a young man who wanted to perform a great many brave deeds and to\nenjoy a great deal of happiness in this bright and beautiful world.\n\nSo disconsolate did these thoughts make him that Perseus could not bear\nto tell his mother what he had undertaken to do. He therefore took his\nshield, girded on his sword and crossed over from the island to the\nmainland, where he sat down in a solitary place and hardly refrained\nfrom 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, an\nodd sort of cap on his head, a strangely twisted staff in his hand and a\nshort and very crooked sword hanging by his side. He was exceedingly\nlight and active in his figure, like a person much accustomed to\ngymnastic exercises and well able to leap or run. Above all, the\nstranger had such a cheerful, knowing and helpful aspect (though it was\ncertainly a little mischievous, into the bargain) that Perseus could not\nhelp feeling his spirits grow livelier as he gazed at him. Besides,\nbeing really a courageous youth, he felt greatly ashamed that anybody\nshould have found him with tears in his eyes like a timid little\nschoolboy, when, after all, there might be no occasion for despair. So\nPerseus wiped his eyes and answered the stranger pretty briskly, putting\non 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 possibly I\nmay be of service to you. I have helped a good many young men through\nadventures that looked difficult enough beforehand. Perhaps you may have\nheard of me. I have more names than one, but the name of Quicksilver\nsuits me as well as any other. Tell me what the trouble is and we will\ntalk the matter over and see what can be done.\"\n\nThe stranger's words and manner put Perseus into quite a different mood\nfrom 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 that\nwould turn out well in the end. So he let the stranger know in few words\nprecisely what was the case--how the King Polydectes wanted the head of\nMedusa with the snaky locks as a bridal gift for the beautiful Princess\nHippodamia and how that he had undertaken to get it for him, but was\nafraid of being turned into stone.\n\n\"And that would be a great pity,\" said Quicksilver, with his mischievous\nsmile. \"You would make a very handsome marble statue, it is true, and it\nwould be a considerable number of centuries before you crumbled away;\nbut, on the whole, one would rather be a young man for a few years than\na 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 son\nwere 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 you;\nand as for myself, I generally have all my wits about me, such as they\nare. If you show yourself bold and cautious, and follow our advice, you\nneed not fear being a stone image yet awhile. But, first of all, you\nmust polish your shield till you can see your face in it as distinctly\nas in a mirror.\"\n\nThis seemed to Perseus rather an odd beginning of the adventure, for he\nthought it of far more consequence that the shield should be strong\nenough to defend him from the Gorgon's brazen claws than that it should\nbe bright enough to show him the reflection of his face. However,\nconcluding that Quicksilver knew better than himself, he immediately set\nto work and scrubbed the shield with so much diligence and good will\nthat it very quickly shone like the moon at harvest time. Quicksilver\nlooked at it with a smile and nodded his approbation. Then taking off\nhis own short and crooked sword, he girded it about Perseus, instead of\nthe 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 next\nthing is to find the Three Gray Women, who will tell us where to find\nthe 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 they\nnever 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 Gray\nWomen? 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 before\nyou can find your way to the Gorgons. There is nothing for it but to\nhunt up these old ladies; and when we meet with them, you may be sure\nthat the Gorgons are not a great way off. Come, let us be stirring!\"\n\nPerseus by this time felt so much confidence in his companion's sagacity\nthat he made no more objections, and professed himself ready to begin\nthe adventure immediately. They accordingly set out and walked at a\npretty brisk pace; so brisk, indeed, that Perseus found it rather\ndifficult to keep up with his nimble friend Quicksilver. To say the\ntruth, he had a singular idea that Quicksilver was furnished with a pair\nof winged shoes, which, of course, helped him along marvelously. And\nthen, too, when Perseus looked sideways at him out of the corner of his\neye, he seemed to see wings on the side of his head; although, if he\nturned a full gaze, there were no such things to be perceived, but only\nan odd kind of cap. But at all events, the twisted staff was evidently a\ngreat convenience to Quicksilver, and enabled him to proceed so fast\nthat Perseus, though a remarkably active young man, began to be out of\nbreath.\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 the\nslightest weariness. In fact, the stick seemed to be alive in his hand\nand to lend some of its life to Perseus. He and Quicksilver now walked\nonward at their ease, talking very sociably together; and Quicksilver\ntold so many pleasant stories about his former adventures and how well\nhis wits had served him on various occasions that Perseus began to think\nhim a very wonderful person. He evidently knew the world; and nobody is\nso charming to a young man as a friend who has that kind of knowledge.\nPerseus listened the more eagerly, in the hope of brightening his own\nwits 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 mine,\nyou must understand, is quite a different sort of character from myself.\nShe is very grave and prudent, seldom smiles, never laughs and makes it\na rule not to utter a word unless she has something particularly\nprofound to say. Neither will she listen to any but the wisest\nconversation.\"\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. In\nshort, 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 wild\nand 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 the\ntime and place to meet the Three Gray Women. Be careful that they do not\nsee you before you see them, for though they have but a single eye among\nthe three, it is as sharp-sighted as half a dozen common eyes.\"\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 one\nto another, as if it had been a pair of spectacles, or--which would have\nsuited them better--a quizzing glass. When one of the three had kept the\neye a certain time, she took it out of the socket and passed it to one\nof her sisters, whose turn it might happen to be, and who immediately\nclapped it into her own head and enjoyed a peep at the visible world.\nThus it will easily be understood that only one of the Three Gray Women\ncould see, while the other two were in utter darkness; and, moreover, at\nthe instant when the eye was passing from hand to hand, none of the poor\nold ladies was able to see a wink. I have heard of a great many strange\nthings in my day, and have witnessed not a few, but none, it seems to\nme, that can compare with the oddity of these Three Gray Women all\npeeping 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 Women.\nThe light being so faint, he could not well make out what sort of\nfigures they were; only he discovered that they had long gray hair, and\nas they came nearer he saw that two of them had but the empty socket of\nan eye in the middle of their foreheads. But in the middle of the third\nsister's forehead there was a very large, bright and piercing eye, which\nsparkled like a great diamond in a ring; and so penetrating did it seem\nto be that Perseus could not help thinking it must possess the gift of\nseeing in the darkest midnight just as perfectly as at noonday. The\nsight of three persons' eyes was melted and collected into that single\none.\n\nThus the three old dames got along about as comfortably, upon the whole,\nas if they could all see at once. She who chanced to have the eye in her\nforehead led the other two by the hands, peeping sharply about her all\nthe while; insomuch that Perseus dreaded lest she should see right\nthrough the thick clump of bushes behind which he and Quicksilver had\nhidden themselves. My stars! it was positively terrible to be within\nreach of so very sharp an eye!\n\nBut before they reached the clump of bushes, one of the Three Gray Women\nspoke.\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 Scarecrow.\n\"I thought I had a glimpse of something behind that thick bush.\"\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 complain,\nand said that it was her turn to have the eye, and that Scarecrow and\nNightmare wanted to keep it all to themselves. To end the dispute, old\nDame Scarecrow took the eye out of her forehead and held it forth in her\nhand.\n\n\"Take it, one of you,\" cried she, \"and quit this foolish quarreling. For\nmy part, I shall be glad of a little thick darkness. Take it quickly,\nhowever, or I must clap it into my own head again!\"\n\nAccordingly, both Nightmare and Shakejoint put out their hands, groping\neagerly to snatch the eye out of the hand of Scarecrow. But being both\nalike blind, they could not easily find where Scarecrow's hand was; and\nScarecrow, being now just as much in the dark as Shakejoint and\nNightmare, could not at once meet either of their hands in order to put\nthe eye into it. Thus (as you will see with half an eye, my wise little\nauditors) these good old dames had fallen into a strange perplexity.\nFor, though the eye shone and glistened like a star as Scarecrow held it\nout, yet the Gray Women caught not the least glimpse of its light and\nwere all three in utter darkness from too impatient 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 one\nanother, that he could scarcely help laughing aloud.\n\n\"Now is your time!\" he whispered to Perseus. \"Quick, quick! before they\ncan clap the eye into either of their heads. Rush out upon the old\nladies 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, shone\nvery brightly, and seemed to look up into his face with a knowing air,\nand an expression as if it would have winked had it been provided with a\npair of eyelids for that purpose. But the Gray Women knew nothing of\nwhat had happened, and each supposing that one of her sisters was in\npossession of the eye, they began their quarrel anew. At last, as\nPerseus did not wish to put these respectable dames to greater\ninconvenience than was really necessary, he thought it right to explain\nthe 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 Women\nall in a breath; for they were terribly frightened, of course, at\nhearing a strange voice and discovering that their eyesight had got into\nthe hands of they could not guess whom. \"Oh, what shall we do, sisters?\nwhat shall we do? We are all in the dark! Give us our eye! Give us our\none precious, solitary eye! You have two of your own! Give us 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 darkness.\"\n\n\"My dear, good, admirable old ladies,\" said Perseus, addressing the Gray\nWomen, \"there is no occasion for putting yourselves into such a fright.\nI am by no means a bad young man. You shall have back your eye, safe and\nsound, and as bright as ever, the moment you tell me where to find the\nNymphs.\"\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 outstretched\nhands and trying their utmost to get hold of Perseus. But he took good\ncare to keep out of their reach.\n\n\"My respectable dames,\" said he--for his mother had taught him always to\nuse the greatest civility--\"I hold your eye fast in my hand and shall\nkeep it safely for you until you please to tell me where to find these\nNymphs. The Nymphs, I mean, who keep the enchanted wallet, the flying\nslippers 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? No,\nno, good stranger! we can tell you nothing of these marvelous things.\nYou have two eyes of your own and we have but a single one amongst us\nthree. You can find out such wonders better than three blind old\ncreatures 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 eye\nand asking pardon for his rudeness in snatching it away. But Quicksilver\ncaught 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 things\nthat people prize so much as they do their eyesight; and the Gray Women\nvalued their single eye as highly as if it had been half a dozen, which\nwas the number they ought to have had. Finding that there was no other\nway of recovering it, they at last told Perseus what he wanted to know.\nNo sooner had they done so than he immediately and with the utmost\nrespect clapped the eye into the vacant socket in one of their\nforeheads, thanked them for their kindness and bade them farewell.\nBefore the young man was out of hearing, however, they had got into a\nnew dispute, because he happened to have given the eye to Scarecrow, who\nhad already taken her turn of it when their trouble with Perseus\ncommenced.\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 sort,\nwhich was the more pity, as they could not conveniently do without one\nanother and were evidently intended to be inseparable companions. As a\ngeneral rule, I would advise all people, whether sisters or brothers,\nold or young, who chance to have but one eye amongst them, to cultivate\nforbearance and not all insist upon peeping through it at once.\n\nQuicksilver and Perseus, in the meantime, were making the best of their\nway in quest of the Nymphs. The old dames had given them such particular\ndirections that they were not long in finding them out. They proved to\nbe very different persons from Nightmare, Shakejoint and Scarecrow; for,\ninstead of being old, they were young and beautiful; and instead of one\neye amongst the sisterhood, each Nymph had two exceedingly bright eyes\nof her own, with which she looked very kindly at Perseus. They seemed to\nbe acquainted with Quicksilver, and when he told them the adventure\nwhich Perseus had undertaken, they made no difficulty about giving him\nthe valuable articles that were in their custody. In the first place,\nthey brought out what appeared to be a small purse, made of deer skin\nand curiously embroidered, and bade him be sure and keep it safe. This\nwas the magic wallet. The Nymphs next produced a pair of shoes or\nslippers or sandals, with a nice little pair of wings at the heel of\neach.\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 probably\nhave flown away if Quicksilver had not made a leap and luckily caught it\nin 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 amongst\nthem.\"\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 down\nagain. Winged slippers and all such high-flying contrivances are seldom\nquite easy to manage until one grows a little accustomed to them.\nQuicksilver laughed at his companion's involuntary activity and told him\nthat he must not be in so desperate a hurry, but must wait for the\ninvisible 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. The\ninstant before the helmet was put on, there stood Perseus, a beautiful\nyoung man, with golden ringlets and rosy cheeks, the crooked sword by\nhis side and the brightly polished shield upon his arm--a figure that\nseemed all made up of courage, sprightliness and glorious light. But\nwhen the helmet had descended over his white brow, there was no longer\nany Perseus to be seen! Nothing but empty air! Even the helmet that\ncovered 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. But\nif I cannot see you, neither can the Gorgons. Follow me, therefore, and\nwe will try your dexterity in using the winged slippers.\"\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 ascended\na few hundred feet the young man began to feel what a delightful thing\nit was to leave the dull earth so far beneath him and to be able to flit\nabout like a bird.\n\nIt was now deep night. Perseus looked upward and saw the round, bright,\nsilvery moon and thought that he should desire nothing better than to\nsoar up thither and spend his life there. Then he looked downward again\nand saw the earth, with its seas and lakes, and the silver course of its\nrivers, and its snowy mountain peaks, and the breath of its fields, and\nthe dark cluster of its woods, and its cities of white marble; and with\nthe moonshine sleeping over the whole scene, it was as beautiful as the\nmoon or any star could be. And among other objects he saw the island of\nSeriphus, where his dear mother was. Sometimes he and Quicksilver\napproached a cloud that at a distance looked as if it were made of\nfleecy silver, although when they plunged into it they found themselves\nchilled and moistened with gray mist. So swift was their flight,\nhowever, that in an instant they emerged from the cloud into the\nmoonlight again. Once a high-soaring eagle flew right against the\ninvisible Perseus. The bravest sights were the meteors that gleamed\nsuddenly out as if a bonfire had been kindled in the sky and made the\nmoonshine pale for as much as a hundred 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 with\nus, as I told you she would. We could do nothing without the help of my\nsister. You have no idea how wise she is. She has such eyes, too! Why,\nshe can see you at this moment just as distinctly as if you were not\ninvisible, and I'll venture to say she will be the first to discover the\nGorgons.\"\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 and\nmild.\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 pebble\ndropped 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, behold,\nthere were the terrible Gorgons! They lay fast asleep, soothed by the\nthunder of the sea; for it required a tumult that would have deafened\neverybody else to lull such fierce creatures into slumber. The moonlight\nglistened on their steely scales and on their golden wings, which\ndrooped idly over the sand. Their brazen claws, horrible to look at,\nwere thrust out and clutched the wave-beaten fragments of rock, while\nthe sleeping Gorgons dreamed of tearing some poor mortal all to pieces.\nThe snakes that served them instead of hair seemed likewise to be\nasleep, although now and then one would writhe and lift its head and\nthrust out its forked tongue, emitting a drowsy hiss, and then let\nitself 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 faces\nwere completely hidden from him by the posture in which they lay, for\nhad he but looked one instant at them, he would have fallen heavily out\nof the air, an image of senseless stone.\n\n\"Now,\" whispered Quicksilver as he hovered by the side of Perseus--\"now\nis your time to do the deed! Be quick, for if one of the Gorgons should\nawake, 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 might\nhave hacked away by the hour together without doing them the least harm.\n\n\"Be cautious,\" said the calm voice which had before spoken to him. \"One\nof the Gorgons is stirring in her sleep and is just about to turn over.\nThat is Medusa. Do not look at her! The sight would turn you to stone!\nLook at the reflection of her face and figure in the bright mirror of\nyour shield.\"\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 face\nthat ever was seen or imagined, and yet with a strange, fearful and\nsavage kind of beauty in it. The eyes were closed and the Gorgon was\nstill in a deep slumber; but there was an unquiet expression disturbing\nher features, as if the monster was troubled with an ugly dream. She\ngnashed her white tusks and dug into the sand with her brazen 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 side.\n\"Look in your shield as you fly downward, and take care that you do not\nmiss 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 terrible\ndid the snaky visage and metallic body of the monster grow. At last,\nwhen he found himself hovering over her within arm's length, Perseus\nuplifted his sword, while at the same instant each separate snake upon\nthe Gorgon's head stretched threateningly upward, and Medusa unclosed\nher eyes. But she awoke too late. The sword was sharp, the stroke fell\nlike a lightning flash, and the head of the wicked Medusa tumbled from\nher body!\n\n\"Admirably done!\" cried Quicksilver. \"Make haste and clap the head into\nyour 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 quick\nas thought, he snatched it up, with the snakes still writhing upon it,\nand 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 sea-beaten\nsand awoke the other two monsters. There they sat for an instant,\nsleepily rubbing their eyes with their brazen fingers, while all the\nsnakes on their heads reared themselves on end with surprise and with\nvenomous malice against they knew not what. But when the Gorgons saw the\nscaly carcass of Medusa, headless, and her golden wings all ruffled and\nhalf spread out on the sand, it was really awful to hear what yells and\nscreeches they set up. And then the snakes! They sent forth a\nhundredfold hiss with one consent, and Medusa's snakes answered them out\nof the magic wallet.\n\nNo sooner were the Gorgons broad awake than they hurtled upward into the\nair, brandishing their brass talons, gnashing their horrible tusks and\nflapping their huge wings so wildly that some of the golden feathers\nwere shaken out and floated down upon the shore. And there, perhaps,\nthose very feathers lie scattered till this day. Up rose the Gorgons, as\nI tell you, staring horribly about, in hopes of turning somebody to\nstone. Had Perseus looked them in the face or had he fallen into their\nclutches, his poor mother would never have kissed her boy again! But he\ntook good care to turn his eyes another way; and as he wore the helmet\nof invisibility, the Gorgons knew not in what direction to follow him;\nnor did he fail to make the best use of the winged slippers by soaring\nupward a perpendicular mile or so. At that height, when the screams of\nthose abominable creatures sounded faintly beneath him, he made a\nstraight course for the island of Seriphus, in order to carry Medusa's\nhead 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 he\nchanged an enormous giant into a mountain of stone merely by showing him\nthe head of the Gorgon. If you doubt this latter story, you may make a\nvoyage to Africa some day or other and see the very mountain, which is\nstill 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 treated\nDanae so very ill that she was compelled to make her escape, and had\ntaken refuge in a temple, where some good old priests were extremely\nkind to her. These praiseworthy priests and the kind-hearted fisherman,\nwho had first shown hospitality to Danae and little Perseus when he\nfound them afloat in the chest, seem to have been the only persons on\nthe island who cared about doing right. All the rest of the people, as\nwell as King Polydectes himself, were remarkably ill behaved and\ndeserved no better destiny than that which was now to happen.\n\nNot finding his mother at home, Perseus went straight to the palace and\nwas immediately ushered into the presence of the king. Polydectes was by\nno means rejoiced to see him, for he had felt almost certain, in his own\nevil mind, that the Gorgons would have torn the poor young man to pieces\nand have eaten him up out of the way. However, seeing him safely\nreturned, he put the best face he could upon the matter and asked\nPerseus how he had succeeded.\n\n\"Have you performed your promise?\" inquired he. \"Have you brought me the\nhead of Medusa with the snaky locks? If not, young man, it will cost you\ndear; for I must have a bridal present for the beautiful Princess\nHippodamia and there is nothing else that she would admire so much.\"\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 very\ncurious spectacle if all that travelers tell it be true!\"\n\n\"Your Majesty is in the right,\" replied Perseus. \"It is really an object\nthat will be pretty certain to fix the regards of all who look at it.\nAnd if your Majesty think fit, I would suggest that a holiday be\nproclaimed and that all your Majesty's subjects be summoned to behold\nthis wonderful curiosity. Few of them, I imagine, have seen a Gorgon's\nhead before and perhaps never may again!\"\n\nThe king well knew that his subjects were an idle set of reprobates and\nvery fond of sight-seeing, as idle persons usually are. So he took the\nyoung man's advice and sent out heralds and messengers in all directions\nto blow the trumpet at the street corners and in the market places and\nwherever two roads met, and summon everybody to court. Thither,\naccordingly, came a great multitude of good-for-nothing vagabonds, all\nof whom, out of pure love of mischief, would have been glad if Perseus\nhad met with some ill-hap in his encounter with the Gorgons. If there\nwere any better people in the island (as I really hope there may have\nbeen, although the story tells nothing about any such), they stayed\nquietly at home, minding their business and taking care of their little\nchildren. Most of the inhabitants, at all events, ran as fast as they\ncould to the palace and shoved and pushed and elbowed one another in\ntheir eagerness to get near a balcony on which Perseus showed himself,\nholding 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 courtiers\nin a semi-circle round about him. Monarch, counselors, courtiers and\nsubjects all gazed eagerly toward Perseus.\n\n\"Show us the head! Show us the head!\" shouted the people; and there was\na fierceness in their cry as if they would tear Perseus to pieces unless\nhe should satisfy them with what he had to show. \"Show us the head of\nMedusa 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 disrespect\nto their royal lord and master; and the great King Polydectes himself\nwaved his hand and ordered him, with the stern, deep voice of authority,\non 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 trumpet.\n\nAnd suddenly holding up the head, not an eyelid had time to wink before\nthe wicked King Polydectes, his evil counselors and all his fierce\nsubjects were no longer anything but the mere images of a monarch and\nhis people. They were all fixed forever in the look and attitude of that\nmoment! At the first glimpse of the terrible head of Medusa, they\nwhitened into marble! And Perseus thrust the head back into his wallet\nand went to tell his dear mother that she need no longer be afraid of\nthe 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 boy,\nhe was sent away from his parents and placed under the queerest\nschoolmaster that ever you heard of. This learned person was one of the\npeople, or quadrupeds, called Centaurs. He lived in a cavern, and had\nthe body and legs of a white horse, with the head and shoulders of a\nman. His name was Chiron; and in spite of his odd appearance, he was a\nvery excellent teacher and had several scholars who afterward did him\ncredit by making a great figure in the world. The famous Hercules was\none, and so was Achilles, and Philoctetes likewise, and AEsculapius, who\nacquired immense repute as a doctor. The good Chiron taught his pupils\nhow to play upon the harp, and how to cure diseases, and how to use the\nsword and shield, together with various other branches of education in\nwhich the lads of those days used to be instructed instead of writing\nand 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 little\nboys ride upon his back. And so, when his scholars had grown up and\ngrown old and were trotting their grandchildren on their knees, they\ntold them about the sports of their school-days; and these young folks\ntook the idea that their grandfathers had been taught their letters by a\nCentaur, half man and half horse. Little children, not quite\nunderstanding what is said to them, often get such absurd notions into\ntheir heads, you know.\n\nBe that as it may, it has always been told for a fact (and always will\nbe told, as long as the world lasts) that Chiron, with the head of a\nschoolmaster, had the body and legs of a horse. Just imagine the grave\nold gentleman clattering and stamping into the schoolroom on his four\nhoofs, perhaps treading on some little fellow's toes, flourishing his\nswitch tail instead of a rod and now and then trotting out of doors to\neat a mouthful of grass! I wonder what the blacksmith charged him for a\nset 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 a\nrival 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 very\nunwise, to be sure; and I hope none of you, my little hearers, will ever\nfollow Jason's example. But, you are to understand, he had heard how\nthat he himself was a prince royal, and how his father, King AEson, had\nbeen deprived of the kingdom of Iolchos by a certain Pelias, who would\nalso have killed Jason had he not been hidden in the Centaur's cave. And\nbeing come to the strength of a man, Jason determined to set all this\nbusiness to rights and to punish the wicked Pelias for wronging his dear\nfather, and to cast him down from the throne and seat himself there\ninstead.\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 of\nhis dress on which he most prided himself was a pair of sandals that had\nbeen his father's. They were handsomely embroidered and were tied upon\nhis feet with strings of gold. But his whole attire was such as people\ndid not very often see; and as he passed along, the women and children\nran to the doors and windows, wondering whither this beautiful youth was\njourneying, with his leopard's skin and his golden-tied sandals, and\nwhat heroic deeds he meant to perform, with a spear in his right hand\nand another in his left.\n\nI know not how far Jason had traveled when he came to a turbulent river,\nwhich rushed right across his pathway with specks of white foam along\nits black eddies, hurrying tumultuously onward and roaring angrily as it\nwent. Though not a very broad river in the dry seasons of the year, it\nwas now swollen by heavy rains and by the melting of the snow on the\nsides of Mount Olympus; and it thundered so loudly and looked so wild\nand dangerous that Jason, bold as he was, thought it prudent to pause\nupon the brink. The bed of the stream seemed to be strewn with sharp and\nrugged rocks, some of which thrust themselves above the water. By and by\nan uprooted tree, with shattered branches, came drifting along the\ncurrent and got entangled among the rocks. Now and then a drowned sheep\nand 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 any,\nthe 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 shape\nof a cuckoo. She looked very aged and wrinkled and infirm; and yet her\neyes, which were as brown as those of an ox, were so extremely large and\nbeautiful that when they were fixed on Jason's eyes he could see nothing\nelse but them. The old woman had a pomegranate in her hand, although the\nfruit 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 great\nbrown eyes looked as if they had a knowledge of everything, whether past\nor to come. While Jason was gazing at her a peacock strutted forward and\ntook his stand at the old woman's side.\n\n\"I am going to Iolchos,\" answered the young man, \"to bid the wicked King\nPelias come down from my father's throne and let me reign in his stead.\"\n\n\"Ah, well, then,\" said the old woman, still with the same cracked voice,\n\"if that is all your business, you need not be in a very great hurry.\nJust take me on your back, there's a good youth, and carry me across the\nriver. I and my peacock have something to do on the other side, as well\nas yourself.\"\n\n\"Good mother,\" replied Jason, \"your business can hardly be so important\nas the pulling down a king from his throne. Besides, as you may see for\nyourself, the river is very boisterous; and if I should chance to\nstumble, it would sweep both of us away more easily than it has carried\noff yonder uprooted tree. I would gladly help you if I could, but I\ndoubt whether I am strong enough to carry you across.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said she very scornfully, \"neither are you strong enough to pull\nKing Pelias off his throne. And, Jason, unless you will help an old\nwoman at her need, you ought not to be a king. What are kings made for,\nsave to succor the feeble and distressed? But do as you please. Either\ntake me on your back, or with my poor old limbs I shall try my best to\nstruggle 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 help\nher. He felt that he could never forgive himself if this poor feeble\ncreature should come to any harm in attempting to wrestle against the\nheadlong current. The good Chiron, whether half horse or no, had taught\nhim that the noblest use of his strength was to assist the weak; and\nalso that he must treat every young woman as if she were his sister and\nevery old one like a mother. Remembering these maxims, the vigorous and\nbeautiful young man knelt down and requested the good dame to mount upon\nhis 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 from\nstumbling and enabled him to feel his way among the hidden rocks;\nalthough every instant he expected that his companion and himself would\ngo down the stream together with the driftwood of shattered trees and\nthe carcasses of the sheep and cow. Down came the cold, snowy torrent\nfrom the steep side of Olympus, raging and thundering as if it had a\nreal spite against Jason or, at all events, were determined to snatch\noff his living burden from his shoulders. When he was half way across\nthe uprooted tree (which I have already told you about) broke loose from\namong the rocks and bore down upon him with all its splintered branches\nsticking out like the hundred arms of the giant Briareus. It rushed\npast, however, without touching him. But the next moment his foot was\ncaught in a crevice between two rocks and stuck there so fast that in\nthe effort to get free he lost one 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 that\nyou are the very person whom the Speaking Oak has been talking about.\"\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, he\nhad never in his life felt so vigorous and mighty as since taking this\nold woman on his back. Instead of being exhausted he gathered strength\nas he went on; and, struggling up against the torrent, he at last gained\nthe opposite shore, clambered up the bank and set down the old dame and\nher peacock safely on the grass. As soon as this was done, however, he\ncould not help looking rather despondently at his bare foot, with only a\nremnant of the golden string of the sandal clinging 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 shoulder\nas she departed. Whether the light of her beautiful brown eyes threw a\nglory round about her, or whatever the cause might be, Jason fancied\nthat there was something very noble and majestic in her figure after\nall, and that, though her gait seemed to be a rheumatic hobble, yet she\nmoved with as much grace and dignity as any queen on earth. Her peacock,\nwhich had now fluttered down from her shoulder, strutted behind her in\nprodigious pomp and spread out its magnificent tail on purpose for Jason\nto admire it.\n\nWhen the old dame and her peacock were out of sight Jason set forward on\nhis journey. After traveling a pretty long distance he came to a town\nsituated at the foot of a mountain and not a great way from the shore of\nthe sea. On the outside of the town there was an immense crowd of\npeople, not only men and women, but children, too, all in their best\nclothes and evidently enjoying a holiday. The crowd was thickest toward\nthe seashore, and in that direction, over the people's heads, Jason saw\na wreath of smoke curling upward to the blue sky. He inquired of one of\nthe multitude what town it was near by and why so many persons were here\nassembled 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 was\nquite unlike that of the Iolchians, and it looked very odd to see a\nyouth with a leopard's skin over his shoulders and each hand grasping a\nspear. Jason perceived, too, that the man stared particularly at his\nfeet, one of which, you remember, was bare, while the other was\ndecorated with his father's golden-stringed sandal.\n\n\"Look at him! only look at him!\" said the man to his next neighbor. \"Do\nyou 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 aspect;\nthough they turned their eyes much oftener toward his feet than to any\nother part of his figure. Besides, he could hear them whispering to one\nanother.\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 they\nhustled him forward or that Jason of his own accord thrust a passage\nthrough the crowd, it so happened that he soon found himself close to\nthe smoking altar, where King Pelias was sacrificing the black bull. The\nmurmur and hum of the multitude, in their surprise at the spectacle of\nJason with his one bare foot, grew so loud that it disturbed the\nceremonies; and the king, holding the great knife with which he was\njust going to cut the bull's throat, turned angrily about and fixed his\neyes on Jason. The people had now withdrawn from around him, so that the\nyouth stood in an open space, near the smoking altar, front to front\nwith the angry King Pelias.\n\n\"Who are you?\" cried the king, with a terrible frown. \"And how dare you\nmake this disturbance, while I am sacrificing a black bull to my father\nNeptune?\"\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 feet.\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 were\nhalf a mind to slay Jason instead of the black bull. The people round\nabout caught up the king's words, indistinctly as they were uttered; and\nfirst there was a murmur among them and then a loud shout.\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 by\nthe Speaking Oak of Dodona that a man with one sandal should cast him\ndown from his throne. On this account he had given strict orders that\nnobody should ever come into his presence unless both sandals were\nsecurely tied upon his feet; and he kept an officer in his palace whose\nsole business it was to examine people's sandals and to supply them with\na new pair at the expense of the royal treasury as soon as the old ones\nbegan to wear out. In the whole course of the king's reign he had never\nbeen thrown into such a fright and agitation as by the spectacle of poor\nJason's bare foot. But as he was naturally a bold and hard-hearted man,\nhe soon took courage and began to consider in what way he might rid\nhimself of this terrible one-sandaled stranger.\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 infancy\nI have dwelt in the cave of Chiron the Centaur. He was my instructor,\nand taught me music and horsemanship and how to cure wounds, and\nlikewise how to inflict wounds with my weapons!\"\n\n\"I have heard of Chiron the schoolmaster,\" replied King Pelias, \"and how\nthat 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 you\nhave profited under so excellent a teacher, will you allow me to ask you\na 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 him\nsay something that should be the cause of mischief and destruction to\nhimself. 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 the\nworld 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 you\nand 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 king\nhad discovered what he came for, and that he intended to turn his own\nwords against himself. Still, he scorned to tell a falsehood. Like an\nupright and honorable prince, as he was, he determined to speak out the\nreal truth. Since the king had chosen to ask him the question and since\nJason had promised him an answer, there was no right way save to tell\nhim precisely what would be the most prudent thing to do if he had his\nworst 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 a\nhope 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 I\nwill 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 lofty\nthrone 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 course\nit was best to pursue. This wonderful tree stood in the center of an\nancient wood. Its stately trunk rose up a hundred feet into the air and\nthrew a broad and dense shadow over more than an acre of ground.\nStanding beneath it, Jason looked up among the knotted branches and\ngreen leaves and into the mysterious heart of the old tree, and spoke\naloud, as if he were addressing some person who was hidden in the depths\nof 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 of\na high wind. By and by Jason imagined that he could distinguish words,\nbut very confusedly, because each separate leaf of the tree seemed to be\na tongue and the whole myriad of tongues were babbling at once. But the\nnoise waxed broader and deeper until it resembled a tornado sweeping\nthrough the oak and making one great utterance out of the thousand and\nthousand of little murmurs which each leafy tongue had caused by its\nrustling. And now, though it still had the tone of a mighty wind roaring\namong the branches, it was also like a deep bass voice speaking, as\ndistinctly as a tree could be expected to speak, the 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 his\nfancy had not shaped them out of the ordinary sound made by a breeze\nwhile 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 carpenter\nand all his journeymen and apprentices began their work; and for a good\nwhile afterward there they were busily employed hewing out the timbers\nand making a great clatter with their hammers, until the new ship, which\nwas called the Argo, seemed to be quite ready for sea. And as the\nTalking Oak had already given him such good advice, Jason thought that\nit would not be amiss to ask for a little more. He visited it again,\ntherefore, and standing beside its huge, rough trunk, inquired what he\nshould do next.\n\nThis time there was no such universal quivering of the leaves throughout\nthe whole tree as there had been before. But after a while Jason\nobserved that the foliage of a great branch which stretched above his\nhead had begun to rustle as if the wind were stirring that one bough,\nwhile 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 figureheads\nin what he intended for feminine shapes, and looking pretty much like\nthose which we see nowadays stuck up under a vessel's bowsprit, with\ngreat staring eyes that never wink at the dash of the spray. But (what\nwas very strange) the carver found that his hand was guided by some\nunseen power and by a skill beyond his own, and that his tools shaped\nout an image which he had never dreamed of. When the work was finished\nit turned out to be the figure of a beautiful woman, with a helmet on\nher head, from beneath which the long ringlets fell down upon her\nshoulders. On the left arm was a shield and in its center appeared a\nlifelike representation of the head of Medusa with the snaky locks. The\nright arm was extended as if pointing onward. The face of this wonderful\nstatue, though not angry or forbidding, was so grave and majestic that\nperhaps you might call it severe; and as for the mouth, it seemed just\nready to unclose its lips and utter words of the 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 do.\"\n\n\"There is no need of that, Jason,\" said a voice which, though it was far\nlower, reminded him of the mighty tones of the great oak. \"When you\ndesire 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 all\nappearance, the voice had proceeded from the statue's mouth. Recovering\na little from his surprise, Jason bethought himself that the image had\nbeen carved out of the wood of the Talking Oak, and that, therefore, it\nwas really no great wonder, but, on the contrary, the most natural thing\nin the world, that it should possess the faculty of speech. It should\nhave been very odd indeed if it had not. But certainly it was a great\npiece of good fortune that he should be able to carry so wise a block of\nwood along with him in his perilous voyage.\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, and\nmaking known to the whole people of Greece that Prince Jason, the son of\nKing AEson, was going in quest of the Fleece of Gold, and he desired the\nhelp of forty-nine of the bravest and strongest young men alive, to row\nhis vessel and share his dangers. And Jason himself would be the\nfiftieth.\n\nAt this news the adventurous youths all over the country began to bestir\nthemselves. Some of them had already fought with giants and slain\ndragons; and the younger ones, who had not yet met with such good\nfortune, thought it a shame to have lived so long without getting\nastride of a flying serpent or sticking their spears into a Chimaera, or\nat 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 the\nnew galley. Shaking hands with Jason, they assured him that they did not\ncare a pin for their lives, but would help row the vessel to the\nremotest edge of the world and as much further as he might think it best\nto go.\n\nMany of these brave fellows had been educated by Chiron, the four-footed\npedagogue, and were therefore old schoolmates of Jason and knew him to\nbe a lad of spirit. The mighty Hercules, whose shoulders afterward held\nup the sky, was one of them. And there were Castor and Pollux, the twin\nbrothers, who were never accused of being chicken-hearted, although they\nhad been hatched out of an egg; and Theseus, who was so renowned for\nkilling the Minotaur; and Lynceus, with his wonderfully sharp eyes,\nwhich could see through a millstone or look right down into the depths\nof the earth and discover the treasures that were there; and Orpheus,\nthe very best of harpers, who sang and played upon his lyre so sweetly\nthat the brute beasts stood upon their hind legs and capered merrily to\nthe music. Yes, and at some of his more moving tunes the rocks bestirred\ntheir moss-grown bulk out of the ground, and a grove of forest trees\nuprooted themselves and, nodding their tops to one another, performed a\ncountry dance.\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 sandal.\nShe had grown up in a very wild way and talked much about the rights of\nwomen, and loved hunting and war far better than her needle. But in my\nopinion, the most remarkable of this famous company were two sons of the\nNorth Wind (airy youngsters, and of rather a blustering disposition),\nwho had wings on their shoulders, and, in case of a calm, could puff\nout their cheeks and blow almost as fresh a breeze as their father. I\nought not to forget the prophets and conjurers, of whom there were\nseveral in the crew, and who could foretell what would happen tomorrow,\nor the next day, or a hundred years hence, but were generally quite\nunconscious 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 sight,\nwas stationed as a lookout in the prow, where he saw a whole day's sail\nahead, but was rather apt to overlook things that lay directly under his\nnose. If the sea only happened to be deep enough, however, Lynceus could\ntell you exactly what kind of rocks or sands were at the bottom of it;\nand he often cried out to his companions that they were sailing over\nheaps of sunken treasure, which yet he was none the richer for\nbeholding. To confess the truth, few people believed him when he said\nit.\n\nWell! But when the Argonauts, as these fifty brave adventurers were\ncalled, had prepared everything for the voyage, an unforeseen difficulty\nthreatened to end it before it was begun. The vessel, you must\nunderstand, was so long and broad and ponderous that the united force of\nall the fifty was insufficient to shove her into the water. Hercules, I\nsuppose, had not grown to his full strength, else he might have set her\nafloat as easily as a little boy launches his boat upon a puddle. But\nhere were these fifty heroes, pushing and straining and growing red in\nthe face without making the Argo start an inch. At last, quite wearied\nout, they sat themselves down on the shore, exceedingly disconsolate and\nthinking that the vessel must be left to rot and fall in pieces and that\nthey must either swim across the sea or 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 work\nto 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 to\nbe put), \"seat yourselves and handle your oars, and let Orpheus play\nupon his harp.\"\n\nImmediately the fifty heroes got on board, and seizing their oars, held\nthem perpendicularly in the air, while Orpheus (who liked such a task\nfar better than rowing) swept his fingers across the harp. At the first\nringing note of the music they felt the vessel stir. Orpheus thrummed\naway briskly and the galley slid at once into the sea, dipping her prow\nso deeply that the figurehead drank the wave with its marvelous lips,\nand rising again as buoyant as a swan. The rowers plied their fifty\noars, the white foam boiled up before the prow, the water gurgled and\nbubbled in their wake, while Orpheus continued to play so lively a\nstrain of music that the vessel seemed to dance over the billows by way\nof keeping time to it. Thus triumphantly did the Argo sail out of the\nharbor amid the huzzas and good wishes of everybody except the wicked\nold Pelias, who stood on a promontory scowling at her and wishing that\nhe could blow out of his lungs the tempest of wrath that was in his\nheart and so sink the galley with all on board. When they had sailed\nabove fifty miles over the sea Lynceus happened to cast his sharp eyes\nbehind, and said that there was this bad-hearted king, still perched\nupon the promontory, and scowling so gloomily that it looked like a\nblack thunder-cloud in that quarter of the 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 Boeotian 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) was\nbrought safe ashore by the faithful ram, who, however, was so exhausted\nthat he immediately lay down and died. In memory of this good deed, and\nas a token of his true heart, the fleece of the poor dead ram was\nmiraculously changed to gold and became one of the most beautiful\nobjects ever seen on earth. It was hung upon a tree in a sacred grove,\nwhere it had now been kept I know not how many years, and was the envy\nof mighty kings who had nothing so magnificent in any of their palaces.\n\nIf I were to tell you all the adventures of the Argonauts it would take\nme till nightfall and perhaps a great deal longer. There was no lack of\nwonderful events, as you may judge from what you have already heard. At\na certain island they were hospitably received by King Cyzicus, its\nsovereign, who made a feast for them and treated them like brothers. But\nthe Argonauts saw that this good king looked downcast and very much\ntroubled, and they therefore inquired of him what was the matter. King\nCyzicus hereupon informed them that he and his subjects were greatly\nabused and incommoded by the inhabitants of a neighboring mountain, who\nmade war upon them and killed many people and ravaged the country. And\nwhile they were talking about it Cyzicus pointed to the mountain and\nasked Jason and his companions what they saw there.\n\n\"I see some very tall objects,\" answered Jason, \"but they are at such a\ndistance that I cannot distinctly make out what they are. To tell your\nmajesty the truth, they look so very strangely that I am inclined to\nthink them clouds which have chanced to take something like human\nshapes.\"\n\n\"I see them very plainly,\" remarked Lynceus, whose eyes, you know, were\nas far-sighted as a telescope. \"They are a band of enormous giants, all\nof whom have six arms apiece, and a club, a sword or some other weapon\nin 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, brandishing\ntheir six arms apiece and looking very formidable so far aloft in the\nair. Each of these monsters was able to carry on a whole war by himself,\nfor with one of his arms he could fling immense stones and wield a club\nwith another and a sword with a third, while a fourth was poking a long\nspear at the enemy and the fifth and sixth were shooting him with a bow\nand arrow. But luckily, though the giants were so huge and had so many\narms, they had each but one heart and that no bigger nor braver than the\nheart of an ordinary man. Besides, if they had been like the\nhundred-armed Briareus, the brave Argonauts would have given them their\nhands full of fight. Jason and his friends went boldly to meet them,\nslew a great many and made the rest take to their heels--so that if the\ngiants had had six legs apiece instead of six arms, it would have served\nthem 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 that\nhe was terribly tormented by three great winged creatures called\nHarpies, which had the faces of women and the wings, bodies and claws of\nvultures. These ugly wretches were in the habit of snatching away his\ndinner, and allowed him no peace of his life. Upon hearing this the\nArgonauts spread a plentiful feast on the seashore, well knowing from\nwhat the blind king said of their greediness that the Harpies would\nsnuff up the scent of the victuals and quickly come to steal them away.\nAnd so it turned out, for hardly was the table set before the three\nhideous vulture-women came flapping their wings, seized the food in\ntheir talons and flew off as fast as they could. But the two sons of the\nNorth Wind drew their swords, spread their pinions and set off through\nthe air in pursuit of the thieves, whom they at last overtook among some\nislands, after a chase of hundreds of miles. The two winged youths\nblustered terribly at the Harpies (for they had the rough temper of\ntheir father), and so frightened them with their drawn swords that they\nsolemnly promised never to trouble King Phineus again.\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 hit\nagainst their shields and several penetrated their flesh. The fifty\nheroes started up and looked about them for the hidden enemy, but could\nfind none nor see any spot on the whole island where even a single\narcher could lie concealed. Still, however, the steel-headed arrows came\nwhizzing among them; and, at last, happening to look upward, they beheld\na large flock of birds hovering and wheeling aloft and shooting their\nfeathers down upon the Argonauts. These feathers were the steel-headed\narrows that had so tormented them. There was no possibility of making\nany resistance, and the fifty heroic Argonauts might all have been\nkilled or wounded by a flock of troublesome birds without ever setting\neyes on the Golden Fleece if Jason had not thought of asking the advice\nof 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 need\nyour wisdom more than ever before! We are in great peril from a flock of\nbirds, who are shooting us with their steel-pointed feathers. What can\nwe 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, banging\nwith might and main, and raised such a terrible clatter that the birds\nmade what haste they could to get away; and though they had shot half\nthe feathers out of their wings, they were soon seen skimming among the\nclouds, a long distance off and looking like a flock of wild geese.\nOrpheus celebrated this victory by playing a triumphant anthem on his\nharp, and sang so melodiously that Jason begged him to desist, lest, as\nthe steel-feathered birds had been driven away by an ugly sound, they\nmight be enticed back again by a sweet 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 demeanor,\nand exceedingly handsome, as young princes generally were in those days.\nNow, who do you imagine these two voyagers turned out to be? Why, if you\nwill believe me, they were the sons of that very Phrixus, who in his\nchildhood had been carried to Colchis on the back of the golden-fleeced\nram. Since that time Phrixus had married the king's daughter, and the\ntwo young princes had been born and brought up at Colchis, and had spent\ntheir play days on the outskirts of the grove, in the center of which\nthe Golden Fleece was hanging upon a tree. They were now on their way\nto Greece, in hopes of getting back a kingdom that had been wrongfully\ntaken 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 failed\nto devour at one mouthful every person who might venture within his\nreach.\n\n\"There are other difficulties in the way,\" continued the young princes.\n\"But is not this enough? Ah, brave Jason, turn back before it is too\nlate! It would grieve us to the heart if you and your forty-nine brave\ncompanions should be eaten up, at fifty mouthfuls, by this execrable\ndragon.\"\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 merely\na pretty large serpent who is not half so likely to snap me up at one\nmouthful as I am to cut off his ugly head and strip the skin from his\nbody. At all events, turn back who may, I will never see Greece again\nunless 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 feel\nas if nothing in this world were so delectable as to fight dragons and\nnothing so truly honorable as to be eaten up at one mouthful, in case of\nthe 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 AEetes, 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 AEetes. \"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 him\nhow to behave with propriety, whether to kings or beggars--\"I have come\nhither with a purpose which I now beg your majesty's permission to\nexecute. King Pelias, who sits on my father's throne (to which he has no\nmore right than to the one on which your excellent majesty is now\nseated), has engaged to come down from it and to give me his crown and\nscepter, provided I bring him the Golden Fleece. This, as your majesty\nis aware, is now hanging on a tree here at Colchis; and I humbly solicit\nyour gracious leave to take it away.\"\n\nIn spite of himself, the king's face twisted itself into an angry frown;\nfor, above all things else in the world, he prized the Golden Fleece,\nand was even suspected of having done a very wicked act in order to get\nit into his own possession. It put him into the worst possible humor,\ntherefore, to hear that the gallant Prince Jason and forty-nine of the\nbravest young warriors of Greece had come to Colchis with the sole\npurpose of taking away his chief treasure.\n\n\"Do you know,\" asked King AEetes, 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 tree\non which the prize hangs, and that whoever approaches him runs the risk\nof 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 hard,\nor perhaps a little harder, to be done before you can even have the\nprivilege of being devoured by the dragon. For example, you must first\ntame my two brazen-footed and brazen-lunged bulls, which Vulcan, the\nwonderful blacksmith, made for me. There is a furnace in each of their\nstomachs, and they breathe such hot fire out of their mouths and\nnostrils that nobody has hitherto gone nigh them without being instantly\nburned to a small, black cinder. What do you think of this, my brave\nJason?\"\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 AEetes, who was determined\nto scare Jason if possible, \"you must yoke them to a plow and must plow\nthe sacred earth in the grove of Mars and sow some of the same dragon's\nteeth from which Cadmus raised a crop of armed men. They are an unruly\nset of reprobates, those sons of the dragon's teeth, and unless you\ntreat them suitably, they will fall upon you sword in hand. You and your\nforty-nine Argonauts, my bold Jason, are hardly numerous or strong\nenough to fight with such a host as will spring 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 teeth\nas well as Cadmus did.\"\n\n\"I wish the dragon had him,\" muttered King AEetes 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 continued\naloud, and as complacently as he could, \"make yourself comfortable for\ntoday, and tomorrow morning, since you insist upon it, you shall try\nyour 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 you\nwill trust to me I can instruct you how to tame the fiery bulls and sow\nthe 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 was\none 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 depths\nor whether there be not something else hidden at the bottom. If Jason\nhad been capable of fearing anything he would have been afraid of making\nthis young princess his enemy; for, beautiful as she now looked, she\nmight the very next instant become as terrible as the dragon that kept\nwatch over the Golden Fleece.\n\n\"Princess,\" he exclaimed, \"you seem indeed very wise and very powerful.\nBut how can you help me to do the things of which you speak? Are you an\nenchantress?\"\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 to\nbe one, and I could tell you, if I pleased, who was the old woman with\nthe peacock, the pomegranate and the cuckoo staff, whom you carried over\nthe river; and likewise, who it is that speaks through the lips of the\noaken image that stands in the prow of your galley. I am acquainted with\nsome of your secrets, you perceive. It is well for you that I am\nfavorably inclined, for otherwise you would hardly escape being snapped\nup 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 of\ndealing 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 the\nperfumed unguent which it contained, and where to meet her at midnight.\n\n\"Only be brave,\" added she, \"and before daybreak the brazen bulls shall\nbe 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 of\nthe king's palace. She gave him a basket, in which were the dragon's\nteeth, just as they had been pulled out of the monster's jaws by Cadmus\nlong ago. Medea then led Jason down the palace steps and through the\nsilent streets of the city and into the royal pasture-ground, where the\ntwo brazen-footed bulls were kept. It was a starry night, with a bright\ngleam along the eastern edge of the sky, where the moon was soon going\nto show herself. After entering the pasture the princess paused and\nlooked around.\n\n\"There they are,\" said she, \"reposing themselves and chewing their fiery\ncuds in that furthest corner of the field. It will be excellent sport, I\nassure you, when they catch a glimpse of your figure. My father and all\nhis court delight in nothing so much as to see a stranger trying to yoke\nthem in order to come at the Golden Fleece. It makes a holiday in\nColchis whenever such a thing happens. For my part, I enjoy it\nimmensely. You cannot imagine in what a mere twinkling of an eye their\nhot 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 have\nbeen 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, or\na 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, you\nwill understand, were caused by the breath of the brazen bulls, which\nwas quietly stealing out of their four nostrils as they lay chewing\ntheir cuds.\n\nAt the first two or three steps which Jason made the four fiery streams\nappeared to gush out somewhat more plentifully, for the two brazen bulls\nhad heard his foot-tramp and were lifting up their hot noses to snuff\nthe air. He went a little further, and by the way in which the red vapor\nnow spouted forth he judged that the creatures had got upon their feet.\nNow he could see glowing sparks and vivid jets of flame. At the next\nstep each of the bulls made the pasture echo with a terrible roar, while\nthe burning breath which they thus belched forth lit up the whole field\nwith 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 sending\nout sheets of white flame, which so kindled up the scene that the young\nman could discern every object more distinctly than by daylight. Most\ndistinctly of all he saw the two horrible creatures galloping right down\nupon him, their brazen hoofs rattling and ringing over the ground and\ntheir tails sticking up stiffly into the air, as has always been the\nfashion with angry bulls. Their breath scorched the herbage before them.\nSo intensely hot it was, indeed, that it caught a dry tree under which\nJason was now standing and set it all in a light blaze. But as for Jason\nhimself (thanks to Medea's enchanted ointment), the white flame curled\naround his body without injuring him a jot more than if he had been made\nof asbestos.\n\nGreatly encouraged at finding himself not yet turned into a cinder, the\nyoung man awaited the attack of the bulls. Just as the brazen brutes\nfancied themselves sure of tossing him into the air he caught one of\nthem by the horn and the other by his screwed-up tail and held them in a\ngrip like that of an iron vise, one with his right hand, the other with\nhis left. Well, he must have been wonderfully strong in his arms, to be\nsure! But the secret of the matter was that the brazen bulls were\nenchanted creatures and that Jason had broken the spell of their fiery\nfierceness by his bold way of handling them. And ever since that time it\nhas been the favorite method of brave men, when danger assails them, to\ndo what they call \"taking the bull by the horns\"; and to grip him by the\ntail is pretty much the same thing--that is, to throw aside fear and\novercome the peril by despising it.\n\nIt was now easy to yoke the bulls and to harness them to the plow which\nhad lain rusting on the ground for a great many years gone by, so long\nwas it before anybody could be found capable of plowing that piece of\nland. Jason, I suppose, had been taught how to draw a furrow by the good\nold Chiron, who, perhaps, used to allow himself to be harnessed to the\nplow. At any rate, our hero succeeded perfectly well in breaking up the\ngreensward; and by the time that the moon was a quarter of her journey\nup the sky the plowed field lay before him, a large tract of black\nearth, ready to be sown with the dragon's teeth. So Jason scattered them\nbroadcast and harrowed them into the soil with a brush-harrow, and took\nhis stand on the edge of the field, anxious to see what would happen\nnext.\n\n\"Must we wait long for harvest-time?\" he inquired of Medea, who was now\nstanding 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\n[Illustration: THE DRAGON FELL AT FULL LENGTH UPON THE GROUND]\n\n[Illustration: THE BLIND OEDIPUS, LED BY HIS DAUGHTER ANTIGONE]\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 before\nthe green blades would peep from among the clods, and whole months\nbefore the yellow grain would be ripened for the sickle. But by and by,\nall over the field, there was something that glistened in the moonbeams\nlike sparkling drops of dew. These bright objects sprouted higher and\nproved to be the steel heads of spears. Then there was a dazzling gleam\nfrom a vast number of polished brass helmets, beneath which, as they\ngrew further out of the soil, appeared the dark and bearded visages of\nwarriors, struggling to free themselves from the imprisoning earth. The\nfirst look that they gave at the upper world was a glare of wrath and\ndefiance. Next were seen their bright breastplates; in every right hand\nthere was a sword or a spear and on each left arm a shield; and when\nthis strange crop of warriors had but half grown out of the earth, they\nstruggled--such was their impatience of restraint--and, as it were, tore\nthemselves up by the roots. Wherever a dragon's tooth had fallen, there\nstood a man armed for battle. They made a clangor with their swords\nagainst their shields, and eyed one another fiercely; for they had come\ninto this beautiful world and into the peaceful moonlight full of rage\nand stormy passions and ready to take the life of every human brother in\nrecompense for the 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 excusable,\nbecause they never had women for their mothers. And now it would have\nrejoiced any great captain who was bent on conquering the world, like\nAlexander or Napoleon, to raise a crop of armed soldiers as easily as\nJason did!\n\nFor awhile the warriors stood flourishing their weapons, clashing their\nswords against their shields and boiling over with the red-hot thirst\nfor battle. Then they began to shout, \"Show us the enemy! Lead us to the\ncharge! Death or victory! Come on, brave comrades! Conquer or die!\" and\na hundred other outcries, such as men always bellow forth on a\nbattle-field and which these dragon people seemed to have at their\ntongues' ends. At last the front rank caught sight of Jason, who,\nbeholding the flash of so many weapons in the moonlight, had thought it\nbest to draw his sword. In a moment all the sons of the dragon's teeth\nappeared to take Jason for an enemy; and crying with one voice, \"Guard\nthe Golden Fleece!\" they ran at him with uplifted swords and protruded\nspears. Jason knew that it would be impossible to withstand this\nblood-thirsty battalion with his single arm, but determined, since there\nwas nothing better to be done, to die as valiantly as if he himself had\nsprung 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 it\nstrike the helmet of a tall warrior who was rushing upon him with his\nblade aloft. The stone glanced from this man's helmet to the shield of\nhis nearest comrade, and thence flew right into the angry face of\nanother, hitting him smartly between the eyes. Each of the three who had\nbeen struck by the stone took it for granted that his next neighbor had\ngiven him a blow; and instead of running any further toward Jason, they\nbegan to fight among themselves. The confusion spread through the host,\nso that it seemed scarcely a moment before they were all hacking,\nhewing and stabbing at one another, lopping off arms, heads and legs and\ndoing such memorable deeds that Jason was filled with immense\nadmiration; although, at the same time, he could not help laughing to\nbehold these mighty men punishing each other for an offense which he\nhimself had committed. In an incredibly short space of time (almost as\nshort, indeed, as it had taken them to grow up) all but one of the\nheroes of the dragon's teeth were stretched lifeless on the field. The\nlast survivor, the bravest and strongest of the whole, had just force\nenough to wave his crimson sword over his head and give a shout of\nexultation, crying, \"Victory! Victory! Immortal fame!\" when he himself\nfell down and lay quietly among his slain 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 they\nhad 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, just\nlike them, fighting and dying for they know not what, and fancying that\nposterity will take the trouble to put laurel wreaths on their rusty and\nbattered helmets. Could you help smiling, Prince Jason, to see the\nself-conceit of that last fellow, just as he tumbled down?\"\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 object,\nyou know. Come! Your night's work has been well performed; and tomorrow\nyou can inform King AEetes that the first part of your allotted task is\nfulfilled.\"\n\nAgreeably to Medea's advice, Jason went betimes in the morning to the\npalace of king AEetes. 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 to\nhave 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 plowed;\nthe dragon's teeth have been sown broadcast and harrowed into the soil;\nthe crop of armed warriors has sprung up and they have slain one another\nto the last man. And now I solicit your majesty's permission to\nencounter the dragon, that I may take down the Golden Fleece from the\ntree and depart with my forty-nine comrades.\"\n\nKing AEetes scowled and looked very angry and excessively disturbed; for\nhe knew that, in accordance with his kingly promise, he ought now to\npermit Jason to win the fleece if his courage and skill should enable\nhim to do so. But since the young man had met with such good luck in the\nmatter of the brazen bulls and dragon's teeth, the king feared that he\nwould be equally successful in slaying the dragon. And therefore, though\nhe would gladly have seen Jason snapped up at a mouthful, he was\nresolved (and it was a very wrong thing of this wicked potentate) not to\nrun any further risk of losing his beloved fleece.\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 instant\na black cinder or a handful of white ashes. I forbid you, on pain of\ndeath, to make any more attempts to get the Golden Fleece. To speak my\nmind plainly, you shall never set eyes on so much as one of its\nglistening locks.\"\n\nJason left the king's presence in great sorrow and anger. He could think\nof nothing better to be done than to summon together his forty-nine\nbrave Argonauts, march at once to the grove of Mars, slay the dragon,\ntake possession of the Golden Fleece, get on board the Argo and spread\nall sail for Iolchos. The success of this scheme depended, it is true,\non the doubtful point whether all the fifty heroes might not be snapped\nup as so many mouthfuls by the dragon. But as Jason was hastening down\nthe palace steps, the Princess Medea called after him and beckoned him\nto return. Her black eyes shone upon him with such a keen intelligence\nthat he felt as if there were a serpent peeping out of them, and\nalthough she had done him so much service only the night before, he was\nby no means very certain that she would not do him an equally great\nmischief before sunset. These enchantresses, you must know, are never to\nbe depended upon.\n\n\"What says King AEetes, 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 taming\nthe brazen bulls and sowing the dragon's teeth. And he forbids me to\nmake any more attempts, and positively refuses to give up the Golden\nFleece, 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 burn\nyour fifty-oared galley and put yourself and your forty-nine brave\ncomrades to the sword. But be of good courage. The Golden Fleece you\nshall have if it lies within the power of my enchantments to get it for\nyou. 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 on\ntheir way to the sacred grove, in the center of which the Golden Fleece\nwas suspended to a tree. While they were crossing the pasture ground the\nbrazen bulls came toward Jason, lowing, nodding their heads and\nthrusting forth their snouts, which, as other cattle do, they loved to\nhave rubbed and caressed by a friendly hand. Their fierce nature was\nthoroughly tamed; and with their fierceness, the two furnaces in their\nstomaches had likewise been extinguished, insomuch that they probably\nenjoyed far more comfort in grazing and chewing their cuds than ever\nbefore. Indeed, it had heretofore been a great inconvenience to these\npoor animals that, whenever they wished to eat a mouthful of grass, the\nfire out of their nostrils had shriveled it up before they could manage\nto crop it. How they contrived to keep themselves alive is more than I\ncan imagine. But now, instead of emitting jets of flame and streams of\nsulphurous vapor, they breathed the very sweetest of cow breath.\n\nAfter kindly patting the bulls, Jason followed Medea's guidance into the\nGrove of Mars, where the great oak trees that had been growing for\ncenturies threw so thick a shade that the moonbeams struggled vainly to\nfind their way through it. Only here and there a glimmer fell upon the\nleaf-strewn earth, or now and then a breeze stirred the boughs aside and\ngave Jason a glimpse of the sky, lest in that deep obscurity he might\nforget that there was one overhead. At length, when they had gone\nfurther and further into the heart of the duskiness, Medea squeezed\nJason'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. It\nproceeded from an object which appeared to be suspended at about a man's\nheight 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 before\nyour eyes? It is the Golden Fleece.\"\n\nJason went onward a few steps further, and then stopped to gaze. Oh, how\nbeautiful it looked, shining with a marvelous light of its own, that\ninestimable prize which so many heroes had longed to behold but had\nperished in the quest of it, either by the perils of their voyage or by\nthe 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 take\nit 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, the\nterrible dragon had quite slipped out of Jason's memory. Soon, however,\nsomething came to pass that reminded him what perils were still to be\nencountered. An antelope that probably mistook the yellow radiance for\nsunrise came bounding fleetly through the grove. He was rushing straight\ntoward the Golden Fleece, when suddenly there was a frightful hiss and\nthe immense head and half the scaly body of the dragon was thrust forth\n(for he was twisted round the trunk of the tree on which the fleece\nhung), and seizing the poor antelope, swallowed him with one snap of his\njaws.\n\nAfter this feat, the dragon seemed sensible that some other living\ncreature was within reach, on which he felt inclined to finish his meal.\nIn various directions he kept poking his ugly snout among the trees,\nstretching out his neck a terrible long way, now here, now there and now\nclose to the spot where Jason and the princess were hiding behind an\noak. Upon my word, as the head came waving and undulating through the\nair and reaching almost within arm's length of Prince Jason, it was a\nvery hideous and uncomfortable sight. The gape of his enormous jaws was\nnearly as wide as the gateway of the king's palace.\n\n\"Well, Jason,\" whispered Medea (for she was ill natured, as all\nenchantresses are, and wanted to make the bold youth tremble), \"what do\nyou 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 you\nare lost without me as your good angel? In this gold box I have a magic\npotion which will do the dragon's business far more effectually than\nyour 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, darting\nfull forty feet at a stretch. As it approached, Medea tossed the\ncontents of the gold box right down the monster's wide-open throat.\nImmediately, with an outrageous hiss and a tremendous wriggle--flinging\nhis tail up to the tip-top of the tallest tree and shattering all its\nbranches as it crashed heavily down again--the dragon fell at full\nlength 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 later;\nso I did not wish to kill him outright. Quick! Snatch the prize and let\nus begone. You have won the Golden Fleece.\"\n\nJason caught the fleece from the tree and hurried through the grove, the\ndeep shadows of which were illuminated as he passed, by the golden glory\nof the precious object that he bore along. A little way before him he\nbeheld the old woman whom he had helped over the stream, with her\npeacock beside her. She clapped her hands for joy, and beckoning him to\nhaste, disappeared among the duskiness of the trees. Espying the two\nwinged sons of the North Wind (who were disporting themselves in the\nmoonlight a few hundred feet aloft), Jason bade them tell the rest of\nthe Argonauts to embark as speedily as possible. But Lynceus, with his\nsharp eyes, had already caught a glimpse of him, bringing the Golden\nFleece, although several stone walls, a hill, and the black shadows of\nthe Grove of Mars intervened between. By his advice the heroes had\nseated themselves on the benches of the galley, with their oars held\nperpendicularly, 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 cruelly\nin the day of their victory. Therefore they did not all find a safe and\nhappy return. For one was shipwrecked and another was shamefully slain\nby his false wife in his palace, and others found all things at home\ntroubled and changed and were driven to seek new dwellings elsewhere.\nAnd some, whose wives and friends and people had been still true to them\nthrough those ten long years of absence, were driven far and wide about\nthe world before they saw their native land again. And of all, the wise\nUlysses was he who wandered farthest and suffered 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 with\nhim--twelve he had brought to Troy--and in each there were some fifty\nmen, being scarce half of those that had sailed in them in the old days,\nso many valiant heroes slept the last sleep by Simois and Scamander and\nin the plain and on the seashore, slain in battle or by the shafts of\nApollo.\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 have\nescaped unhurt, but that they stayed to hold revel on the shore. For the\nCiconians gathered their neighbors, being men of the same blood, and did\nbattle with the invaders and drove them to their ship. And when Ulysses\nnumbered his men, he found that he had lost six out of 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 abate.\nAnd the third morning being fair, they sailed again and journeyed\nprosperously till they came to the very end of the great Peloponnesian\nland, where Cape Malea looks out upon the southern sea. But contrary\ncurrents baffled them, so that they could not round it, and the north\nwind blew so strongly that they must fain drive before it. And on the\ntenth day they came to the land where the lotus grows--a wondrous fruit,\nof which whosoever eats cares not to see country or wife or children\nagain. Now the Lotus eaters, for so they call the people of the land,\nwere a kindly folk and gave of the fruit to some of the sailors, not\nmeaning them any harm, but thinking it to be the best that they had to\ngive. These, when they had eaten, said that they would not sail any more\nover the sea; which, when the wise Ulysses heard, he bade their comrades\nbind them and carry them, sadly complaining, to the ships.\n\nThen, the wind having abated, they took to their oars and rowed for many\ndays till they came to the country where the Cyclopes dwell. Now, a mile\nor so from the shore there was an island, very fair and fertile, but no\nman dwells there or tills the soil, and in the island a harbor where a\nship may be safe from all winds, and at the head of the harbor a stream\nfalling from the rock, and whispering alders all about it. Into this the\nships passed safely and were hauled up on the beach, and the crews slept\nby them, waiting for the morning. And the next day they hunted the wild\ngoats, of which there was great store on the island, and feasted right\nmerrily on what they caught, with draughts of red wine which they had\ncarried off from the town of the Ciconians.\n\nBut on the morrow, Ulysses, for he was ever fond of adventure and would\nknow of every land to which he came what manner of men they were that\ndwelt there, took one of his twelve ships and bade row to the land.\nThere was a great hill sloping to the shore, and there rose up here and\nthere a smoke from the caves where the Cyclopes dwelt apart, holding no\nconverse with each other, for they were a rude and savage folk, but\nruled each his own household, not caring for others. Now very close to\nthe shore was one of these caves, very huge and deep, with laurels round\nabout the mouth, and in front a fold with walls built of rough stone and\nshaded by tall oaks and pines. So Ulysses chose out of the crew the\ntwelve bravest, and bade the rest guard the ship, and went to see what\nmanner of dwelling this was and who abode there. He had his sword by his\nside, and on his shoulder a mighty skin of wine, sweet smelling and\nstrong, with which he might win the heart of some fierce savage, should\nhe chance to meet with such, as indeed his prudent heart forecasted that\nhe 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 the\nwall. 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 the\nkids. 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\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 crash,\nand drove the flocks within, and closed the entrance with a huge rock,\nwhich twenty wagons and more could not bear. Then he milked the ewes and\nall the she-goats, and half of the milk he curdled for cheese and half\nhe set ready for himself when he should sup. Next he kindled a fire with\nthe pine logs, and the flame lighted up all the cave, showing Ulysses\nand 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 bravely,\nand answered, \"We are no pirates, mighty sir, but Greeks, sailing back\nfrom Troy, and subjects of the great King Agamemnon, whose fame is\nspread from one end of heaven to the other. And we are come to beg\nhospitality of thee in the name of Zeus, who rewards or punishes hosts\nand guests according as they be faithful the one to the other, 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 be\nmuch better and stronger than they. But come, tell me where have you\nleft 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, driving\nit on a jutting rock on this coast, and we whom thou seest are all that\nare 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 the\nground, 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 weep\nand pray to Zeus for help. And when the giant had ended his foul meal,\nhe 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 pierce\nto the giant's heart, mighty as he was. But, being very wise, he\nremembered 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 save\nhimself and his companions, and the end of his thinking was this: There\nwas a mighty pole in the cave, green wood of an olive tree, big as a\nship's mast, which Polyphemus purposed to use, when the smoke should\nhave dried it, as a walking staff. Of this he cut off a fathom's length,\nand his comrades sharpened it and hardened it in the fire and then hid\nit away. At evening the giant came back and drove his sheep into the\ncave, nor left the rams outside, as he had been wont to do before, but\nshut them in. And having duly done his shepherd's work, he made his\ncruel feast as before. Then Ulysses came forward with the wine skin in\nhis hand and said:\n\n\"Drink, Cyclops, now that thou hast feasted. Drink and see what precious\nthings we had in our ship. But no one hereafter will come to thee with\nsuch like, if thou dealest with strangers as cruelly as thou hast dealt\nwith 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 must\nbe 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 name\nis No Man. And now that thou knowest my name, thou shouldst give me thy\ngift.\"\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 it\nwas ready, green as it was, to burst into flame, and they thrust it into\nthe monster's eye; for he had but one eye, and that in the midst of his\nforehead, with the eyebrow below it. And Ulysses leaned with all his\nforce upon the stake and thrust it in with might and main. And the\nburning wood hissed in the eye, just as the red-hot iron hisses in the\nwater 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 that\nall the Cyclopes who dwelt on the mountain side heard him and came about\nhis cave, asking him, \"What aileth thee, Polyphemus, that thou makest\nthis uproar in the peaceful night, driving away sleep? Is any one\nrobbing thee of thy sheep or seeking to slay thee by craft or force?\"\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 thee.\nThe sickness which great Zeus may send, who can avoid? Pray to our\nfather, Poseidon, for help.\"\n\nThen they departed, and Ulysses was glad at heart for the good success\nof 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 perchance\nthe men within the cave would seek to go out among the sheep.\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 under\nthe bellies of the beasts, tying them with osier twigs, of which the\ngiant made his bed. One ram he took and fastened a man beneath it, and\ntwo others he set, one on either side. So he did with the six, for but\nsix were left out of the twelve who had ventured with him from the ship.\nAnd there was one mighty ram, far larger than all the others, and to\nthis Ulysses clung, grasping the fleece tight with both his hands. So\nthey waited for the morning. And when the morning came, the rams rushed\nforth to the pasture; but the giant sat in the door and felt the back of\neach as it went by, nor thought to try what might be underneath. Last of\nall went the great ram. And the Cyclops knew him as 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 is\nlurking. 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 of\nreach of the giant, Ulysses loosed his hold of the ram and then unbound\nhis comrades. And they hastened to their ship, not forgetting to drive\nbefore them a good store of the Cyclops' fat sheep. Right glad were\nthose that had abode by the ship to see them. Nor did they lament for\nthose that had died, though they were fain to do so, for Ulysses\nforbade, fearing lest the noise of their weeping should betray them to\nthe giant, where they were. Then they all climbed into the ship, and\nsitting well in order on the benches, smote the sea with their oars,\nlaying-to right lustily, that they might the sooner get away from the\naccursed land. And when they had rowed a hundred yards or so, so that a\nman's voice could yet be heard by one who stood upon the shore, Ulysses\nstood 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 guests\nin thy dwelling. May the gods make thee suffer yet worse things than\nthese.\"\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 front\nof the ship's bow it fell, and a great wave rose as it sank, and washed\nthe ship back to the shore. But Ulysses seized a long pole with both\nhands and pushed the ship from the land and bade his comrades ply their\noars, nodding with his head, for he was too wise to speak, lest the\nCyclops should know where they were. Then they rowed with all their\nmight 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, \"Nay,\nmy lord, anger not the giant any more. Surely we thought before we were\nlost, when he threw the great rock and washed our ship back to the\nshore. And if he hear thee now, he may crush our ship and us, for the\nman 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 are\nfulfilled, for long ago there came to this land one Telemus, a prophet,\nand dwelt among us even to old age. This man foretold me that one\nUlysses would rob me of my sight. But I looked for a great man and a\nstrong, who should subdue me by force, and now a weakling has done the\ndeed, having cheated me with wine. But come thou hither, Ulysses, and I\nwill be a host indeed to thee. Or, at least, may Poseidon give thee such\na voyage to thy home as I would wish thee to have. For know that\nPoseidon is my sire. May be that he may heal me of my grievous wound.\"\n\nAnd Ulysses said, \"Would to God, I could send thee down to the abode of\nthe dead, where thou wouldst be past all healing, even from Poseidon's\nself.\"\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 this\nUlysses never reach his home! or, if the Fates have ordered that he\nshould reach it, may he come alone, all his comrades lost, and come to\nfind 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, where\nthey found their comrades, who indeed had waited long for them, in sore\nfear lest they had perished. Then Ulysses divided among his company all\nthe sheep which they had taken from the Cyclops. And all, with one\nconsent, gave him for his share the great ram which had carried him out\nof the cave, and he sacrificed it to Zeus. And all that day they feasted\nright merrily on the flesh of sheep and on sweet wine, and when the\nnight was come, they lay down upon the shore and slept.\n\n\n\n\nOEDIPUS AND THE SPHINX\n\n\nIt befell in times past that the gods, being angry with the inhabitants\nof Thebes, sent into their land a very troublesome beast which men\ncalled the Sphinx. Now this beast had the face and breast of a fair\nwoman, but the feet and claws of a lion; and it was wont to ask a riddle\nof such as encountered it, and such as answered not aright it would tear\nand devour.\n\nWhen it had laid waste the land many days, there chanced to come to\nThebes one Oedipus, who had fled from the city of Corinth that he\nmight escape the doom which the gods had spoken against him. And the men\nof 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 Oedipus, 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 Oedipus 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\nAnd when the Sphinx found that her riddle was answered she cast herself\nfrom a high rock and perished.\n\nAs a reward Oedipus received the great kingdom of Thebes and the hand\nof the widowed queen Jocasta in marriage. Four children were born to\nthem--two sons, Eteocles and Polynices, and two daughters, Antigone and\nIsmene.\n\nNow the gods had decreed that Oedipus should murder his own father and\nmarry his own mother, and by a curious chance this was precisely what he\nhad done. As a baby he had been left to die lest he should live to\nfulfil the doom, but had been rescued by an old shepherd and brought up\nat the court of Corinth. Fleeing from there that he might not murder him\nwhom he believed to be his father, he had come to Thebes, and on the way\nhad met Laius, his true father, the king, and killed him.\n\nWhile he remained ignorant of the facts Oedipus was very happy and\nreigned in great power and glory; but when pestilence fell upon the land\nand he discovered the truth of the almost forgotten oracle, he was very\nmiserable, 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 Oedipus was really her son, was so\nfilled with horror and distress that she took her own life. But Antigone\nand Ismene were sorry for their father, whom they loved very dearly, and\nsought by every means they knew to render his suffering less.\n\nLonging to see again the land of Corinth which he had left seized the\nblind Oedipus, and like a beggar, staff in hand, he set out. Only\nAntigone accompanied him, guiding his step and striving daily to keep up\nhis courage.\n\nAfter much wandering Oedipus 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, but\nkept that which he should have given up, and drove out his younger\nbrother from the city. Then the younger, whose name was Polynices, fled\nto Argos, to King Adrastus. And after a while he married the daughter of\nthe king, who made a covenant with him that he would bring him back with\na high hand to Thebes and set him on the throne of his father. Then the\nking sent messengers to certain of the princes of Greece, entreating\nthat they would help in this matter. And of these some would not, but\nothers hearkened to his words, so that a great army was gathered\ntogether and followed the king and Polynices to make war against Thebes.\nSo they came and pitched their camp over against the city. And after\nthey had been there many days, the battle grew fierce about the wall.\nBut the chiefest fight was between the two brothers, for the two came\ntogether in an open space before the gates. And first Polynices prayed\nto Here, for she was the goddess of the great city of Argos, which had\nhelped him in this enterprise, and Eteocles prayed to Pallas of the\nGolden Shield, whose temple stood hard by. Then they crouched, each\ncovered with his shield and holding his spear in his hand, if by chance\nhis enemy should give occasion to smite him; and if one showed so much\nas an eye above the rim of his shield the other would strike at him. But\nafter a while King Eteocles slipped upon a stone that was under his\nfoot, and uncovered his leg, at which straightway Polynices took aim\nwith his spear, piercing the skin. But so doing he laid his own shoulder\nbare, and King Eteocles gave him a wound in the breast. He brake his\nspear in striking and would have fared ill but that with a great stone\nhe smote the spear of Polynices and brake this also in the middle. And\nnow were the two equal, for each had lost his spear. So they drew their\nswords and came yet closer together. But Eteocles used a device which he\nhad learnt in the land of Thessaly; for he drew his left foot back, as\nif he would have ceased from the battle, and then of a sudden moved the\nright forward; and so smiting sideways, drove his sword right through\nthe body 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 other,\nfor he yet breathed a little, laid his hand upon his sword, and though\nhe had scarce strength to smite, yet gave the king a mortal blow, so\nthat the two lay dead together on the plain. And the men of Thebes\nlifted up the bodies of the dead and bare them both into the city.\n\nWhen these two brothers, the sons of King Oedipus, had fallen each by\nthe hand of the other, the kingdom fell to Creon, their uncle. For not\nonly was he the next of kin to the dead, but also the people held him in\ngreat honor because his son Menoeceus had offered himself with a\nwilling 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 for\nhis 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 devoured\nby the fowls of the air and the beasts of the field, because he had\njoined himself to the enemy and would have beaten down the walls of the\ncity and burned the temples of the gods with fire and led the people\ncaptive. Also he commanded that if any man should break this decree he\nshould 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 Ismene before the gates\nof 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 Ismene made answer: \"I have heard nothing, my sister, only that we\nare bereaved of both of our brethren in one day and that the army of the\nArgives is departed in this night that is now past. So much I know, but\nno more.\"\n\n\"Hearken then. King Creon hath made a proclamation that they shall bury\nEteocles with all honor, but that Polynices shall lie unburied, that the\nbirds of the air and the beasts of the field may devour him, and that\nwhosoever shall break this decree shall suffer death by stoning.\"\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 wouldst\nnot 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 of\nnecessity obey them that are stronger. Wherefore, as for me, I will pray\nthe dead to pardon me, seeing that I am thus constrained; but I will\nobey them that rule.\"\n\n\"I advise thee not, and if thou thinkest thus, I would not have thee for\nhelper. But know that I will bury my brother, nor could I better die\nthan for doing such a deed. For as he loved me, so also do I love him\ngreatly. And shall not I do pleasure to the dead rather than to the\nliving, seeing that I shall abide with the dead for ever? But thou, if\nthou 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 set\nforth his counsel to the elders who were assembled, how he had dealt\nwith the two princes according to their deserving, giving all honor to\nhim that loved his country and casting forth the other unburied. And he\nbade them take care that this decree should be kept, saying that he had\nalso 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 thought,\n'Fool, why goest thou where thou shalt suffer for it'; and then, again,\n'Fool, the king will hear the matter elsewhere, and then how wilt thou\nfare?' But at the last I came as I had purposed, for I know that nothing\nmay 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 it\nwere 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 judge,\nsomething 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 was\nthe earth broken, nor had wagon passed thereon. We were sore dismayed\nwhen the watchman showed the thing to us; for the body we could not see.\nBuried indeed it was not, but rather covered with dust. Nor was there\nany sign as of wild beast or of dog that had torn it. Then there arose a\ncontention among us, each blaming the other, and accusing his fellows,\nand himself denying that he had done the deed or was privy to it. And\ndoubtless we had fallen to blows but that one spake a word which made us\nall tremble for fear, knowing that it must be as he said. For he said\nthat the thing must be told to thee, and in no wise hidden. So we drew\nlots, and by evil chance the lot fell upon me. Wherefore I am here, not\nwillingly, for no man loveth him that bringeth 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, who\nwould have burnt their temples with fire, and laid waste the land which\nthey love; and set at naught the laws? Not so. But there are men in this\ncity who have long time had ill will to me, not bowing their necks to my\nyoke; and they have persuaded these fellows with money to do this thing.\nSurely there never was so evil a thing as money, which maketh cities\ninto ruinous heaps and banisheth men from their houses and turneth their\nthoughts from good unto evil. But as for them that have done this deed\nfor hire, of a truth they shall not escape, for I say to thee, fellow,\nif ye bring not here before my eyes the man that did this thing, I will\nhang you up alive. So shall ye learn that ill gains bring no profit to a\nman.\"\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 be,\nthou shalt not see me come again on such errand as this, for even now\nhave I escaped beyond all hope.\"\n\nNotwithstanding, after a space he came back with one of his fellows; and\nthey 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 man\nthan 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 below.\nI judged not that thy decrees had such authority that a man should\ntransgress for them the unwritten sure commandments of the gods. For\nthese, indeed, are not of today or yesterday, but they live forever, and\ntheir beginning no man knoweth. Should I, for fear of thee, be found\nguilty against them? That I should die I knew. Why not? All men must\ndie. And if I die before my time, what loss? He who liveth among many\nsorrows even as I have lived, counteth it gain to die. But had I left my\nown mother's son unburied, this had been loss indeed.\"\n\nThen said the king:\n\n\"Such stubborn thoughts have a speedy fall and are shivered even as the\niron that hath been made hard in the furnace. And as for this woman and\nher sister--for I judge her sister to have had a part in this\nmatter--though they were nearer to me than all my kindred, yet shall\nthey not escape the doom of death. Wherefore let some one bring the\nother woman hither.\"\n\nAnd while they went to fetch the maiden Ismene, 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, but\nthou only. But, hold, was not he that fell in battle with this man thy\nbrother 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 Ismene 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 her\nsister.\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 Ismene 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 Haemon, whom I love, how thy father wrongeth thee!\"\n\nThen the king bade the guards lead the two into the palace. But scarcely\nhad they gone when there came to the place the Prince Haemon, the king's\nson, who was betrothed to the maiden Antigone. And when the king saw\nhim, 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 evil\nwife. Wherefore I say let this damsel wed a bridegroom among the dead.\nFor since I have found her, alone of all this people, breaking my\ndecree, surely she shall die. Nor shall it profit her to claim kinship\nwith me, for he that would rule a city must first deal justly with his\nown kindred. And as for obedience, this it is that maketh a city to\nstand both in peace and in war.\"\n\nTo this the Prince Haemon 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 I\nhear it in secret. Know then that all the city mourneth for this maiden,\nsaying that she dieth wrongfully for a very noble deed, in that she\nburied her brother. And 'tis well, my father, not to be wholly set on\nthy 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 the\nlast 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 see\nmy 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 Tiresias,\nseeking the king. Blind he was, so that a boy led him by the hand; but\nthe 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 I\nheard a cry of birds that I knew not, very strange and full of wrath.\nAnd I knew that they tare and slew each other, for I heard the fierce\nflapping of their wings. And being afraid, I made inquiry about the\nfire, how it burned upon the altars. And this boy, for as I am a guide\nto others so he guideth me, told me that it shone not at all, but\nsmouldered and was dull, and that the flesh which was burnt upon the\naltar 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 Oedipus, whom thou sufferest not to have due\nburial, and carry it to the altars, polluting them therewith. Wherefore\nthe gods receive not from us prayer or sacrifice, and the cry of the\nbirds hath an evil sound, for they are full of the flesh of a man.\nTherefore I bid thee be wise in time. For all men may err; but he that\nkeepeth not his folly, but repenteth, doeth well; but stubbornness\ncometh 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 master's\nthrone 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 had\nsold 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 hast\ndealt unrighteously, shutting up the living with the dead and keeping\nthe dead from them to whom they belong. Therefore the Furies lie in wait\nfor thee and thou shalt see whether or no I speak these things for\nmoney. For there shall be mourning and lamentation in thine own house,\nand against thy people shall be stirred up many cities. And now, my\nchild, lead me home and let this man rage against them that are younger\nthan 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 hairs\nwere 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 burial.\"\n\nThen the king cried to his people that they should bring bars wherewith\nto loosen the doors of the sepulchre, and hastened with them to the\nplace. But coming on their way to the body of Prince Polynices, they\ntook it up and washed it, and buried that which remained of it, and\nraised over the ashes a great mound of earth. And this being done, they\ndrew near to the place of the sepulchre; and as they approached, the\nking heard within a very piteous voice, and knew it for the voice of his\nson. Then he bade his attendants loose the door with all speed; and when\nthey had loosed it, they beheld within a very piteous sight. For the\nmaiden Antigone had hanged herself by the girdle of linen which she\nwore, and the young man Prince Haemon stood with his arms about her dead\nbody, embracing it. And when the king saw him, he cried to him to come\nforth; but the prince glared fiercely upon him and answered him not a\nword, but drew his two-edged sword. Then the king, thinking that his son\nwas minded in his madness to slay him, leapt back, but the prince drove\nthe sword into his own heart and fell forward on the earth, still\nholding the dead maiden in his arms. And when they brought the tidings\nof these things to Queen Eurydice, the wife of King Creon and mother to\nthe prince, she could not endure the grief, being thus bereaved of her\nchildren, but laid hold of a sword and slew herself therewith.\n\nSo the house of King Creon was left desolate unto him that day, because\nhe 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 and\nin his hand a tablet of pine wood, whereon he wrote. But he seemed not\nto remain in the same mind about that which he wrote; for now he would\nblot out the letters, and then would write them again; and now he\nfastened the seal upon the tablet and then brake it. And as he did this\nhe wept and was like to a man distracted. But after a while he called to\nan old man, his attendant (the man had been given in time past by\nTyndareus to his daughter, Queen Clytaemnestra) 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 voyage\nfrom this place to Troy, and should take the city and destroy it; and\nhow when I heard these words I bade Talthybius the herald go throughout\nthe army and bid them depart, every man to his own country, for that I\nwould not do this thing; and how my brother, King Menelaues, persuaded me\nso that I consented to it. Now, therefore, hearken to this, for what I\nam about to tell thee three men only know, namely, Calchas the\nsoothsayer, and Menelaues, and Ulysses, king of Ithaca. I wrote a letter\nto my wife the queen, that she should send her daughter to this place,\nthat she might be married to King Achilles; and I magnified the man to\nher, saying that he would in no wise sail with us unless I would give\nhim my daughter in marriage. But now I have changed my purpose and have\nwritten another letter after this fashion, as I will now set forth to\nthee: '_Daughter of Leda, send not thy child to the land of Euboea,\nfor I will give her in marriage at another 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 down\nby any fountain in the woods, and suffer not thine eyes to sleep. And\nbeware lest the chariot bearing the queen and her daughter pass thee\nwhere the roads divide. And see that thou keep the seal upon this letter\nunbroken.\"\n\nSo the old man departed with the letter. But scarcely had he left the\ntent when King Menelaues 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 this\nuproar and disputing that I hear?\"\n\nAnd Menelaues answered, \"Seest thou this letter that I hold in my hand?\"\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 the\narmy 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 the\ncamp.\"\n\n\"What hast thou to do with that? May I not rule my own household?\"\n\nThen Menelaues reproached his brother because he did not continue in one\nmind. \"For first,\" he said, \"before thou wast chosen captain of the\nhost, thou wast all things to all men, greeting every man courteously,\nand taking him by the hand, and talking with him, and leaving thy doors\nopen to any that would enter; but afterwards, being now chosen, thou\nwast haughty and hard of access. And next, when this trouble came upon\nthe army, and thou wast sore afraid lest thou shouldst lose thy office\nand so miss renown, didst thou not hearken to Calchas the soothsayer,\nand promise thy daughter for sacrifice, and send for her to the camp,\nmaking pretence of giving her in marriage to Achilles? And now thou art\ngone back from thy word. Surely this is an evil day for Greece, that is\ntroubled because thou wantest wisdom.\"\n\nThen answered King Agamemnon: \"What is thy quarrel with me? Why blamest\nthou me if thou couldst not rule thy wife? And now to win back this\nwoman, because forsooth she is fair, thou castest aside both reason and\nhonor. And I, if I had an ill purpose and now have changed it for that\nwhich is wiser, dost thou charge me with folly? Let them that sware the\noath to Tyndareus go with thee on this errand. Why should I slay my\nchild and work for myself sorrow and remorse without end that thou\nmayest have vengeance for thy wicked wife?\"\n\nThen Menelaues turned away in a rage, crying, \"Betray me if thou wilt. I\nwill betake myself to other counsels and other friends.\"\n\nBut even as he spake there came a messenger, saying, \"King Agamemnon, I\nam come, as thou badest me, with thy daughter Iphigenia. Also her\nmother, Queen Clytaemnestra, 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 army\nis gathered about them to see them and greet them. And men question\nmuch wherefore they are come, saying 'Doth the king make a marriage for\nhis daughter; or hath he sent for her, desiring to see her?' But I know\nthy purpose, my lord; wherefore we will dance and shout and make merry,\nfor this is a happy day for the maiden.\"\n\nBut the King Agamemnon was sore dismayed when he knew that the queen was\ncome, and spake to himself, \"Now what shall I say to my wife? For that\nshe is rightly come to the marriage of her daughter, who can deny? But\nwhat will she say when she knoweth my purpose? And of the maiden, what\nshall I say? Unhappy maiden whose bridegroom shall be death! For she\nwill cry to me, 'Wilt thou kill me, my father?' And the little Orestes\nwill wail, not knowing what he doeth, seeing he is but a babe. Cursed be\nParis, who hath wrought this woe!\"\n\nAnd now King Menelaues came back, saying that it repented him of what he\nhad said, \"For why should thy child die for me? What hath she to do with\nHelen? Let the army be scattered, so that this wrong be not done.\"\n\nThen said King Agamemnon, \"But how shall I escape from this strait? For\nthe whole host will compel me to this deed?\"\n\n\"Not so,\" said King Menelaues, \"if thou wilt send back the maiden to\nArgos.\"\n\n\"But what shall that profit,\" said the king; \"for Calchas will cause the\nmatter to be known, or Ulysses, saying that I have failed of my promise;\nand if I fly to Argos, they will come and destroy my city and lay waste\nmy land. Woe is me! in what a strait am I set! But take thou care, my\nbrother, that Clytaemnestra 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 well\nto 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 into\nthe tent; but first kiss me and give me thy hand, for thou shalt be\nparted 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 Phthia.\nAnd when she inquired of the time of the marriage, he said that it\nshould be in the same moon, on the first lucky day; and as to the place,\nthat it must be where the bridegroom was sojourning, that is to say, in\nthe camp. \"And I,\" said the king, \"will give the maiden to her husband.\"\n\n\"But where,\" answered the queen, \"is it your pleasure that I should be?\"\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 the\nbride?\"\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 Achilles,\nthe son of Peleus, would speak with him\"--she came forth from the tent\nand greeted him and bade him give her his right hand. And when the young\nman was ashamed (for it was not counted a seemly thing that men should\nspeak 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 such\nfashion.\"\n\nBut when Achilles would have departed, to inquire of the king what this\nthing might mean, the old man that had at the first carried the letter\ncame forth and bade him stay. And when he had assurance that he should\nreceive no harm for what he should tell them, he unfolded the whole\nmatter. And when the queen had heard it, she cried to Achilles, \"O son\nof Thetis of the sea! help me now in this strait and help this maiden\nthat hath been called thy bride, though this indeed be false. 'Twill be\na shame to thee if such wrong be done under thy name; for it is thy name\nthat hath undone us. Nor have I any altar to which I may flee, nor any\nfriend but thee only in this army.\"\n\nThen Achilles made answer, \"Lady, I learnt from Chiron, who was the most\nrighteous of men, to be true and honest. And if the sons of Atreus\ngovern according to right, I obey them; and if not, not. Know, then,\nthat thy daughter, seeing that she hath been given, though but in word\nonly, to me, shall not be slain by her father. For if she so die, then\nshall my name be brought to great dishonor, seeing that through it thou\nhast been persuaded to come with her to this place. This sword shall see\nright soon whether any one will dare to take this maiden from me.\"\n\nAnd now King Agamemnon came forth, saying that all things were ready for\nthe marriage, and that they waited for the maiden, not knowing that the\nwhole 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 when\nhe was silent, not knowing, indeed, what to say, she reproached him with\nmany words, that she had been a loving and faithful wife to him, for\nwhich he made her an ill recompense slaying her child.\n\nAnd when she had made an end of speaking, the maiden came forth from the\ntent, holding the young child Orestes in her arms, and cast herself upon\nher knees before her father and besought him, saying, \"I would, my\nfather, that I had the voice of Orpheus, who made even the rocks to\nfollow him, that I might persuade thee; but now all that I have I give,\neven these tears. O my father, I am thy child; slay me not before my\ntime. This light is sweet to look upon. Drive me not from it to the land\nof darkness. I was the first to call thee father; and the first to whom\nthou didst say 'my child.' And thou wouldst say to me, 'Some day, my\nchild, I shall see thee a happy wife in the home of a good husband.' And\nI would answer, 'And I will receive thee with all love when thou art\nold, and pay thee back for all the benefits thou hast done unto me,'\nThis I indeed remember, but thou forgettest; for thou art ready to slay\nme. Do it not, I beseech thee, by Pelops thy grandsire, and Atreus thy\nfather, and this my mother, who travailed in childbirth of me and now\ntravaileth again in her sorrow. And thou, O my brother, though thou art\nbut a babe, help me. Weep with me; beseech thy father that he slay not\nthy sister. O my father, though he be silent, yet, indeed, he beseecheth\nthee. For his sake, therefore, yea, and for mine own, have pity upon me\nand slay me not.\"\n\nBut the king was sore distracted; knowing not what he should say or do,\nfor a terrible necessity was upon him, seeing that the army could not\nmake their journey to Troy unless this deed should first be done. And\nwhile he doubted came Achilles, saying that there was a horrible tumult\nin the camp, the men crying out that the maiden must be sacrificed, and\nthat when he would have stayed them from their purpose, the people had\nstoned him with stones, and that his own Myrmidons helped him not, but\nrather were the first to assail him. Nevertheless, he said that he would\nfight for the maiden, even to the utmost, and that there were faithful\nmen who would stand with him and help him. But when the maiden heard\nthese words, she stood forth and said, \"Hearken to me, my mother. Be not\nwroth with my father, for we cannot fight against fate. Also we must\ntake thought that this young man suffer not, for his help will avail\nnaught and he himself will perish. Therefore I am resolved to die; for\nall Greece looketh to me; for without me the ships cannot make their\nvoyage, nor the city of Troy be taken. Thou didst bear me, my mother,\nnot for thyself only, but for this whole people. Wherefore I will give\nmyself for them. Offer me for an offering, and let the Greeks take the\ncity of Troy, for this shall be my memorial forever.\"\n\nThen said Achilles, \"Lady, I should count myself most happy if the gods\nwould grant thee to be my wife. For I love thee well when I see how\nnoble thou art. And if thou wilt, I will carry thee to my home. And I\ndoubt not that I shall save thee, though all the men of Greece be\nagainst me.\"\n\nBut the maiden answered, \"What I say, I say with full purpose. Nor will\nI that any man should die for me, but rather will I save this land of\nGreece.\"\n\nAnd Achilles said, \"If this be thy will, lady, I cannot say nay, for it\nis 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 of\nArtemis, 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, \"I\ngive 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 man\ntouch 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 thereof.\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 was\ndriven by stress of weather to the place, for none went thither\nwillingly. And the name of the king was Thoas, which signifieth in the\nGreek tongue, \"swift of foot.\"\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 she\nslept in the women's chamber there befell a great earthquake, and cast\nto the ground the palace of her fathers, so that there was left one\npillar 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 to\nbe that her brother Orestes was dead, for that male children are the\npillars 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 his\nfriend, came in a ship to the land of the Taurians. And the cause of his\ncoming was this. After that he had slain his mother, taking vengeance\nfor the death of King Agamemnon his father, the Furies pursued him. Then\nApollo, who had commanded him to do this deed, bade him go to the land\nof Athens that he might be judged. And when he had been judged and\nloosed, yet the Furies left him not. Wherefore Apollo commanded that he\nshould sail for the land of the Taurians and carry thence the image of\nArtemis and bring it to the land of the Athenians, and that after this\nhe should have rest. Now when the two were come to the place, they saw\nthe altar that it was red with the blood of them that had been slain\nthereon. And Orestes doubted how they might accomplish the things for\nthe which he was come, for the walls of the temple were high and the\ngates not easy to be broken through. Therefore he would have fled to the\nship, but Pylades consented not, seeing that they were not wont to go\nback from that to which they had set their hand, but counseled that they\nshould hide themselves during the day in a cave that was hard by the\nseashore, not near to the ship, lest search should be made for them, and\nthat by night they should creep into the temple by a space that there\nwas between the pillars, and 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 shore;\none of these, coming near to the cavern, spied the young men as they sat\ntherein, and stealing back to his fellows, said, \"See ye not them that\nsit yonder. Surely they are gods;\" for they were exceeding tall and fair\nto look upon. And some began to pray to them, thinking that they might\nbe the Twin Brethren or of the sons of Nereus. But another laughed and\nsaid, \"Not so; these are shipwrecked men who hide themselves, knowing\nthat it is our custom to sacrifice strangers to our gods.\" To him the\nothers gave consent and said that they should take the men prisoners\nthat they might be sacrificed to the gods.\n\nBut while they delayed, Orestes ran forth from the cave, for the madness\nwas come upon him, crying out, \"Pylades, seest thou not that dragon from\nhell; and that who would kill me with the serpents of her mouth, and\nthis again that breatheth out fire, holding my mother in her arms to\ncast her upon me?\" And first he bellowed as a bull and then howled as a\ndog, for the Furies, he said, did so. But the herdsmen, when they saw\nthis, gathered together in great fear and sat down. But when Orestes\ndrew his sword and leapt, as a lion might leap, into the midst of the\nherd, slaying the beasts (for he thought in his madness that he was\ncontending with the Furies), then the herdsmen, blowing on shells,\ncalled to the people of the land; for they feared the young men, so\nstrong they seemed and valiant. And when no small number was gathered\ntogether, they began to cast stones and javelins at the two. And now the\nmadness of Orestes began to abate, and Pylades tended him carefully,\nwiping away the foam from his mouth and holding his garments before him\nthat he should not be wounded by the stones. But when Orestes came to\nhimself and beheld in what straits they were, he groaned aloud and\ncried, \"We must die, O Pylades, only let us die as befitteth brave men.\nDraw thy sword and follow me.\" And the people of the land dared not to\nstand before them; yet while some fled, others would cast stones at\nthem. For all that no man wounded them. But at the last, coming about\nthem with a great multitude, they smote the swords out of their hands\nwith stones, and so bound them and took them to King Thoas. And the king\ncommanded that they should be taken to the temple, that the priestess\nmight deal with them according to the 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 them,\nsaying, \"Who is your mother and your father and your sister, if a sister\nyou have? She will be bereaved of noble brothers this day. And whence\ncome ye?\"\n\nTo her Orestes answered, \"What meanest thou, lady, by lamenting in this\nfashion over us? I hold it folly in him who must die that he should\nbemoan himself. Pity us not; we know what manner of sacrifices ye have\nin 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 of\none 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 Ulysses;\nand at last she said, \"And Achilles, son of Thetis of the sea, is he yet\nalive?\"\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 more.\"\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 in\nher heart and said to Orestes, \"Hearken now, for I have somewhat to say\nto thee that shall bring profit both to thee and to me. Wilt thou, if I\nsave thee from this death, carry tidings of me to Argos to my friends\nand bear a tablet from me to them? For such a tablet I have with me,\nwhich one who was brought captive to this place wrote for me, pitying\nme, for he knew that I caused not his death, but the law of the goddess\nin this place. Nor have I yet found a man who should carry this thing to\nArgos. But thou, I judge, art of noble birth and knowest the city and\nthose with whom I would have communication. Take then this tablet and\nthy life as a reward, and let this man be sacrificed to the goddess.\"\n\nThen Orestes made answer, \"Thou hast said well, lady, save in one thing\nonly. That this man should be sacrificed in my stead pleaseth me not at\nall. For I am he that brought this voyage to pass; and this man came\nwith me that he might help me in my troubles. Wherefore it would be a\ngrievous wrong that he should suffer in my stead and I escape. Give then\nthe tablet to him. He shall take it to the city of Argos and thou shalt\nhave what thou wilt. But as for me, let them slay me if they 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 on\nthy ashes.\" Then she departed, that she might fetch the tablet from her\ndwelling, bidding the attendants keep the young men fast, but without\nbonds.\n\nBut when she was gone, Orestes said to Pylades, \"Pylades, what thinkest\nthou? Who is this maiden? She had great knowledge of things in Troy and\nArgos, and of Calchas the wise soothsayer, and of Achilles and the rest.\nAnd she made lamentation over King Agamemnon. She must be of Argos.\"\n\nAnd Pylades answered, \"This I cannot say; all men have knowledge of what\nbefell the king. But hearken to this. It were shame to me to live if\nthou diest. I sailed with thee and will die with thee. For otherwise men\nwill account lightly of me both in Argos and in Phocis, which is my own\nland, thinking that I betrayed thee or basely slew thee, that I might\nhave thy kingdom, marrying thy sister, who shall inherit it in thy\nstead. Not so: I will die with thee and my body shall be burnt together\nwith thine.\"\n\nBut Orestes answered, \"I must bear my own troubles. This indeed would be\na shameful thing, that when thou seekest to help me I should destroy\nthee. But as for me, seeing how the gods deal with me, it is well that I\nshould die. Thou, indeed, art happy, and thy house is blessed; but my\nhouse is accursed. Go, therefore, and my sister, whom I have given thee\nto wife, shall bear thee children, and the house of my father shall not\nperish. And I charge thee that when thou art safe returned to the city\nof Argos, thou do these things. First, thou shalt build a tomb for me,\nand my sister shall make an offering there of her hair and of her tears\nalso. And tell her that I died, slain by a woman of Argos that offered\nme as an offering to her gods; and I charge thee that thou leave not my\nsister, but be faithful to her. And now farewell, true friend and\ncompanion in my toils; for indeed I die, and Phoebus hath lied unto\nme, 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 tablet\nin her hand. And she said, \"Here is the tablet of which I spake. But I\nfear lest he to whom I shall give it shall haply take no account of it\nwhen he is returned to the land. Therefore I would fain bind him with an\noath that he will deliver it to them that should have it in the city of\nArgos.\" And Orestes consented, saying that she also should bind herself\nwith an oath that she would deliver one of the two from death. So she\nsware by Artemis that she would persuade the king, and deliver Pylades\nfrom death. And Pylades sware on his part by Zeus, the father of heaven,\nthat he would give the tablet to those whom it should concern. And\nhaving sworn it, he said, \"But what if a storm overtake me and the\ntablet 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 it\nas 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? Hath\nthe 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 that\nis red with the blood of strangers, whereat I serve._' And if Orestes\nask by what means I am alive, thou shalt say that Artemis put a hind in\nmy stead, and that the priest, thinking that he smote me with the knife,\nslew the beast, and that the goddess brought me to this 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 am\nthy 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 wherein\nwas set forth the strife between Atreus and Thyestes concerning the\ngolden lamb; and that she had given a lock of her hair at Aulis to be a\nmemorial of her; and that there was laid in her chamber at Argos the\nancient spear of Pelops, her father's grandsire, with which he slew\nOenomaues 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 past\nheld in her arms. But when the two had talked together for a space,\nrejoicing over each other and telling the things that had befallen them,\nPylades said, \"Greetings of friends after long parting are well; but we\nmust needs consider how best we shall escape from this land of the\nbarbarians.\"\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 land\nof the Taurians. And he said, \"Now help me in this, my sister, that we\nmay bear away the image of the goddess; for so doing I shall be quit of\nmy madness, and thou wilt be brought to thy native country and the house\nof thy father shall prosper. But if we do it not, then shall we perish\naltogether.\"\n\nAnd Iphigenia doubted much how this thing might be done. But at the last\nshe said, \"I have a device whereby I shall compass the matter. I will\nsay that thou art come hither, having murdered thy mother, and that thou\ncanst not be offered for a sacrifice till thou art purified with the\nwater of the sea. Also that thou hast touched the image, and that this\nalso must be purified in like manner. And the image I myself will bear\nto the sea; for, indeed, I only may touch it with my hands. And of this\nPylades also I will say that he is polluted in like manner with thee. So\nshall we three win our way to the ship. And that this be ready it will\nbe 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 of\nGreece.\"\n\n\"O monstrous! Such deeds we barbarians never do. And now what dost thou\npurpose?\"\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 the\ncity should be straitly commanded to stay within doors, that so they\nmight not be defiled; and that he himself should abide in the temple and\npurify it with fire, covering his head with his garments when the\nstrangers should pass by. \"And be not troubled,\" she said, \"if I seem to\nbe 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 of\nOrestes lay at anchor. But when they were come near to the shore, she\nbade them halt nor come over-near, for that she had that to do in which\nthey must have no part. And she took the chain wherewith the young men\nwere bound in her hands and set up a strange song as of one that sought\nenchantments. And after that the guards sat where she bade them for a\nlong time, they began to fear lest the strangers should have slain the\npriestess and so fled. Yet they moved not, fearing to see that which was\nforbidden. But at the last with one consent they rose up. And when they\nwere come to the sea, they saw the ship trimmed to set forth, and fifty\nsailors on the benches having oars in their hands ready for rowing; and\nthe two young men were standing unbound upon the shore near to the\nstern. And other sailors were dragging the ship by the cable to the\nshore that the young men might embark. Then the guards laid hold of the\nrudder and sought to take it from its place, crying, \"Who are ye that\ncarry away priestesses and the images of our gods?\" Then Orestes said,\n\"I am Orestes, and I carry away my sister.\" But the guards laid hold of\nIphigenia; and when the sailors saw this they leapt from the ship; and\nneither the one nor the other had swords in their hands, but they fought\nwith their fists and their feet also. And as the sailors were strong and\nskilful, the king's men were driven back sorely bruised and wounded. And\nwhen they fled to a bank that was hard by and cast stones at the ship,\nthe archers standing on the stern shot at them with arrows. Then--for\nhis sister feared to come farther--Orestes leapt into the sea and raised\nher upon his shoulder and so lifted her into the ship, and the image of\nthe goddess 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 to\nthe open sea a great wave took it, for a violent wind blew against it\nand 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 call\nthe men of the land that they might do battle with Orestes and his\ncomrade. But while he was yet sending them, there appeared in the air\nabove 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[Illustration: IPHIGENIA ABOUT TO BE SACRIFICED]\n\n[Illustration: THE TROJAN HORSE]\n\n\n\n\nTHE SACK OF TROY\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 its\nfall tarried, because certain of the gods loved it well and defended it,\nas Apollo and Mars, the god of war, and Father Jupiter himself.\nWherefore Minerva put it into the heart of Epeius, Lord of the Isles,\nthat he should make a cunning device wherewith to take the city. Now the\ndevice was this: he made a great horse of wood, feigning it to be a\npeace-offering to Minerva, that the Greeks might have a safe return to\ntheir homes. In the belly of this there hid themselves certain of the\nbravest of the chiefs, as Menelaues, and Ulysses, and Thoas the AEtolian,\nand Machaon the great physician, and Pyrrhus, son of Achilles (but\nAchilles himself was dead, slain by Paris, Apollo helping, even as he\nwas about to take the city), and others also, and with them Epeius\nhimself. But the rest of the people made as if they had departed to\ntheir homes; only they went not further than Tenedos, which was an\nisland 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 to\nsee the plain and the camp. And one said to another as they went, \"Here\nthey set the battle in array, and there were the tents of the fierce\nAchilles, and there lay the ships.\" And some stood and marveled at the\ngreat peace-offering to Minerva, even the horse of wood. And\nThymoetes, 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 Laocoon, 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 there\nare armed men in this mighty horse; or haply they have made it that they\nmay look down upon our walls. Touch it not, for as for these men of\nGreece, I fear them, even though they bring gifts in their hands.\"\n\nAnd as he spake he cast his great spear at the horse, so that it sounded\nagain. 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 said,\nof his own accord when they were in the field. And first the young men\ngathered about him mocking him, but when he cried aloud, \"What place is\nleft for me, for the Greeks suffer me not to live and the men of Troy\ncry for vengeance upon me?\" they rather pitied him, and bade him speak\nand 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 was\na poor kinsman and followed him to Troy. And when he was dead, through\nthe false witness of Ulysses, I lived in great grief and trouble, nor\ncould I hold my peace, but sware that if ever I came back to Argos I\nwould avenge me of him that had done this deed. Then did Ulysses seek\noccasion against me, whispering evil things, nor rested till at the\nlast, Calchas the soothsayer helping him--but what profit it that I\nshould tell these things? For doubtless ye hold one Greek to be even as\nanother. Wherefore slay me and doubtless ye will do a pleasure to\nUlysses 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 ye\nsee had been built, most of all did the dreadful thunder roll from the\none end of the heaven to the other. Then the Greeks sent one who should\ninquire of Apollo; and Apollo answered them thus: 'Men of Greece, even\nas ye appeased the winds with blood when ye came to Troy, so must ye\nappease them with blood now that ye would go from thence.' Then did men\ntremble to think on whom the doom should fall, and Ulysses, with much\nclamor, drew forth Calchas the soothsayer into the midst, and bade him\nsay who it was that the gods would have as a sacrifice. Then did many\nforbode evil for me. Ten days did the soothsayer keep silence, saying\nthat he would not give any man to death. But then, for in truth the two\nhad planned the matter beforehand, he spake, appointing me to die. And\nto this thing they all agreed, each being glad to turn to another that\nwhich he feared for himself. But when the day was come and all things\nwere ready, the salted meal for the sacrifice and the garlands, lo! I\nburst my bonds and fled and hid myself in the sedges of a pool, waiting\ntill they should have set sail, if haply that might be. But never shall\nI see country or father or children again. For doubtless on these will\nthey take vengeance for my flight. Only do thou, O King, have pity on\nme, who 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 help\nof Minerva. But from the day when Diomede and Ulysses dared, having\nbloody hands, to snatch her image from her holy place in Troy, her face\nwas turned from us. Well do I remember how the eyes of the image,\nwell-nigh before they had set it in the camp, blazed with wrath, and how\nthe salt sweat stood upon its limbs, aye, and how it thrice leapt from\nthe ground, shaking shield and spear. Then Calchas told us that we must\ncross the seas again and seek at home fresh omens for our war. And this,\nindeed, they are doing even now, and will return anon. Also the\nsoothsayer said, 'Meanwhile ye must make the likeness of a horse, to be\na peace-offering to Minerva. And take heed that ye make it huge of bulk,\nso that the men of Troy may not receive it into their gates, nor bring\nit within their walls and get safety for themselves thereby. For if,' he\nsaid, 'the men of Troy harm this image at all, they shall surely perish;\nbut if they bring it into their city, then shall Asia lay siege\nhereafter to the city of Pelops, and our children shall suffer the doom\nwhich we would fain have brought 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\nLaocoon, 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 waves,\nand many scaly coils trailed behind in the waters. And when they reached\nthe land they still sped forward. Their eyes were red as blood and\nblazed with fire and their forked tongues hissed loud for rage. Then all\nthe men of Troy grew pale with fear and fled away, but these turned not\naside this way or that, seeking Laocoon where he stood. And first they\nwrapped themselves about his little sons, one serpent about each, and\nbegan to devour them. And when the father would have given help to his\nchildren, having a sword in his hand, they seized upon himself and bound\nhim fast with their folds. Twice they compassed him about his body, and\ntwice about his neck, lifting their heads far above him. And all the\nwhile he strove to tear them away with his hands, his priest's garlands\ndripping with blood. Nor did he cease to cry horribly aloud, even as a\nbull bellows when after an ill stroke of the axe it flees from the\naltar. But when their work was done, the two glided to the citadel of\nMinerva and hid themselves beneath the feet and the shield of the\ngoddess. And men said one to another, \"Lo! the priest Laocoon has been\njudged according to his deeds; for he cast his spear against this holy\nthing, and now the gods have slain him.\" Then all cried out together\nthat the horse of wood must be drawn to the citadel. Whereupon they\nopened the Scaean Gate and pulled down the wall that was thereby, and put\nrollers under the feet of the horse and joined ropes thereto. So in much\njoy they drew it into the city, youths and maidens singing about it the\nwhile and laying their hands to the ropes with great gladness. And yet\nthere wanted no signs and tokens of evil to come. Four times it halted\non the threshold of the gate, and men might have heard a clashing of\narms within. Cassandra also opened her mouth, prophesying evil; but no\nman heeded 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 city.\nAnd that night they kept a feast to all the gods with great joy not\nknowing 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 the\nsea from Tenedos, there being a great calm and the moon also giving them\nlight. Sinon likewise opened a secret door that was in the great horse\nand the chiefs issued forth therefrom and opened the gates of the city,\nslaying those that kept watch.\n\nMeanwhile there came a vision to AEneas, who now, Hector being dead, was\nthe chief hope and stay of the men of Troy. It was Hector's self that he\nseemed to see, but not such as he had seen him coming back rejoicing\nwith the arms of Achilles or setting fire to the ships, but even as he\nlay after that Achilles dragged him at his chariot wheels, covered with\ndust, and blood, his feet swollen and pierced through with thongs. To\nhim said. AEneas, not knowing what he said, \"Why hast thou tarried so\nlong? Much have we suffered waiting for thee! And what grief hath marked\nthy 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 in\nthe walls and Troy hath utterly perished. If any hand could have saved\nour city, this hand had done so. Thou art now the hope of Troy. Take\nthen her gods and flee with them for company, seeking the city that thou\nshalt one day build across the sea.\"\n\nAnd now the alarm of battle came nearer and nearer, and AEneas, waking\nfrom sleep, climbed upon the roof and looked on the city. As a shepherd\nstands and sees a fierce flame sweeping before the south wind over the\ncorn-fields or a flood rushing down from the mountains, so he stood. And\nas he looked, the great palace of Deiphobus sank down in the fire and\nthe house of Ucalegon that was hard by, blazed forth, till the sea by\nSigeuem shone with the light. Then, scarce knowing what he sought, he\ngirded on his armor, thinking perchance that he might yet win some place\nof vantage or at the least might avenge himself on the enemy or find\nhonor in his death. But as he passed from out of his house there met him\nPanthus, the priest of Apollo that was on the citadel, who cried to him,\n\"O AEneas, the glory is departed from Troy and the Greeks have the\nmastery in the city; for armed men are coming forth from the great horse\nof wood and thousands also swarm in at the gates, which Sinon hath\ntreacherously opened.\" And as he spake others came up under the light of\nthe moon, as Hypanis and Dymas and young Coroebus, who had but newly\ncome to Troy, seeking Cassandra to be his wife. To whom AEneas spake: \"If\nye are minded, my brethren, to follow me to the death, come on. For how\nthings fare this night ye see. The gods who were the stay of this city\nhave departed from it; nor is aught remaining to which we may bring\nsuccor. Yet can we die as brave men in battle. And haply he that counts\nhis life to be lost may yet save it.\" Then, even as ravening wolves\nhasten through the mist seeking for prey, so they went through the city,\ndoing dreadful deeds. And for a while the men of Greece fled before\nthem.\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 come\nfrom the ships.\" But forthwith, for they answered him not as he had\nlooked for, he knew that he had fallen among enemies. Then even as one\nwho treads upon a snake unawares among thorns and flies from it when it\nrises angrily against him with swelling neck, so Androgeos would have\nfled. But the men of Troy rushed on and, seeing that they knew all the\nplace and that great fear was upon the Greeks, slew many men. Then said\nCoroebus, \"We have good luck in this matter, my friends. Come now, let\nus change our shields and put upon us the armor of these Greeks. For\nwhether we deal with our enemy by craft or by force, who will ask?\" Then\nhe took to himself the helmet and shield of Androgeos and also girded\nthe sword upon him. In like manner did the others, and thus, going\ndisguised among the Greeks, slew many, so that some again fled to the\nships and some were fain to climb into the horse of wood. But lo! men\ncame dragging by the hair from the temple of Minerva the virgin\nCassandra, whom when Coroebus beheld, and how she lifted up her eyes\nto heaven (but as for her hands, they were bound with iron), he endured\nnot the sight, but threw himself upon those that dragged her, the others\nfollowing him. Then did a grievous mischance befall them, for the men of\nTroy that stood upon the roof of the temple cast spears against them,\njudging them to be enemies. The Greeks also, being wroth that the virgin\nshould be taken from them, fought the more fiercely, and many who had\nbefore been put to flight in the city came against them and prevailed,\nbeing indeed many against few. Then first of all fell Coroebus, being\nslain by Peneleus the Boeotian, and Rhipeus also, the most righteous\nof all the sons of Troy. But the gods dealt not with him after his\nrighteousness. Hypanis also was slain and Dymas, and Panthus escaped not\nfor all that more than other men he feared the gods and was also the\npriest of Apollo.\n\nThen was AEneas severed from the rest, having with him two only, Iphitus\nand Pelias, Iphitus being an old man and Pelias sorely wounded by\nUlysses. And these, hearing a great shouting, hastened to the palace of\nKing Priam, where the battle was fiercer than in any place beside. For\nsome of the Greeks were seeking to climb the walls, laying ladders\nthereto, whereon they stood, holding forth their shields with their left\nhands and with their right grasping the roofs. And the men of Troy, on\nthe other hand, being in the last extremity, tore down the battlements\nand the gilded beams wherewith the men of old had adorned the palace.\nThen AEneas, knowing of a secret door whereby the unhappy Andromache in\npast days had been wont to enter, bringing her son Astyanax to his\ngrandfather, climbed on to the roof and joined himself to those that\nfought therefrom. Now upon this roof there was a tower, whence all Troy\ncould be seen and the camp of the Greeks and the ships. This the men of\nTroy loosened from its foundations with bars of iron, and thrust it\nover, so that it fell upon the enemy, slaying many of them. But not the\nless did others press forward, casting the while stones and javelins and\nall that came to their hands.\n\nMeanwhile others sought to break down the gates of the palace, Pyrrhus,\nson of Achilles, being foremost among them, clad in shining armor of\nbronze. Like to a serpent was he, which sleeps indeed during the winter,\nbut in the spring comes forth into the light, full-fed on evil herbs,\nand, having cast his skin and renewed his youth, lifts his head into the\nlight of the sun and hisses with forked tongue. And with Pyrrhus were\ntall Periphas, and Automedon, who had been armor-bearer to his father\nAchilles, and following them the youth of Scyros, which was the kingdom\nof his grandfather Lycomedes. With a great battle-axe he hewed through\nthe doors, breaking down also the door-posts, though they were plated\nwith bronze, making, as it were, a great window, through which a man\nmight see the palace within, the hall of King Priam and of the kings who\nhad reigned aforetime in Troy. But when they that were within perceived\nit, there arose a great cry of women wailing aloud and clinging to the\ndoors and kissing them. But ever Pyrrhus pressed on, fierce and strong\nas ever was his father Achilles, nor could aught stand against him,\neither the doors or they that guarded them. Then, as a river bursts its\nbanks and overflows the plain, so did the sons of Greece rush into the\npalace.\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 a\nspear in his hand and would have gone against the adversary, only Queen\nHecuba called to him from where she sat. For she and her daughters had\nfled to the great altar of the household gods and sat crowded about it\nlike unto doves that are driven by a storm. Now the altar stood in an\nopen court that was in the midst of the palace, with a great bay-tree\nabove it. So when she saw Priam, how he had girded himself with armor as\na youth, she cried to him and said, \"What hath bewitched thee, that thou\ngirdest thyself with armor? It is not the sword that shall help us this\nday; no, not though my own Hector were here, but rather the gods and\ntheir altars. Come hither to us, for here thou wilt be safe, or at the\nleast wilt die with us.\"\n\nSo she made the old man sit down in the midst. But lo! there came flying\nthrough the palace, Polites, his son, wounded to death by the spear of\nPyrrhus, and Pyrrhus close behind him. And he, even as he came into the\nsight of his father and his mother, fell dead upon the ground. But when\nKing Priam saw it he contained not himself, but cried aloud, \"Now may\nthe gods, if there be any justice in heaven, recompense thee for this\nwickedness, seeing that thou hast not spared to slay the son before his\nfather's eyes. Great Achilles, whom thou falsely callest thy sire, did\nnot thus to Priam, though he was an enemy, but reverenced right and\ntruth and gave the body of Hector for burial and sent me back to my\ncity.\"\n\nAnd as he spake the old man cast a spear, but aimless and without force,\nwhich pierced not even the boss of the shield. Then said the son of\nAchilles, \"Go thou and tell my father of his unworthy son and all these\nevils deeds. And that thou mayest tell him die!\" And as he spake he\ncaught in his left hand the old man's white hair and dragged him,\nslipping the while in the blood of his own son, to the altar, and then,\nlifting his sword high for a blow, drove it to the hilt in the old man's\nside. So King Priam, who had ruled mightily over many peoples and\ncountries in the land of Asia, was slain that night, having first seen\nTroy burning about him and his citadel laid even with the ground. So was\nhis carcass cast out upon the earth, headless and 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 the\nearth, 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 the\nsingers.\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 fens.\nOne night he came to Heorot when the noble guests lay at rest after the\nfeast, and seizing thirty thanes as they slept, set off on his homeward\njourney, 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 deed\nof murder. After that the warriors no longer dared to sleep at Heorot,\nbut sought out secret resting-places, leaving the great house empty.\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 deliberate\nwhat it were best to do against these fearful terrors; but nothing\navailed to stop the fiend's ravages.\n\nNow the tale of Grendel's deeds went forth into many lands; and amongst\nthose who heard of it were the Geats, whose king was Higelac. Chief of\nhis thanes was a noble and powerful warrior named Beowulf, who resolved\nto go to the help of the Danes. He bade his men make ready a good\nsea-boat, that he might go across the wild swan's path to seek out\nHrothgar and aid him; and his people encouraged him to go on that\ndangerous errand even though he was dear to them.\n\nSo Beowulf chose fourteen of his keenest warriors, and sailed away over\nthe waves in his well-equipped vessel, till he came within sight of the\ncliffs and mountains of Hrothgar's kingdom. The Danish warder, who kept\nguard over the coast, saw them as they were making their ship fast and\ncarrying their bright weapons on shore. So he mounted his horse and rode\nto meet them, bearing in his hand his staff of office; and he questioned\nthem closely as to whence they came and what their business 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 that\ntheir 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 a\nsheaf together, and sat down on the benches, weary with their seafaring.\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 where\nhe sat with the assembly of his earls and told him of the arrival of the\nstrangers, and Hrothgar received the news with joy, for he had known\nBeowulf when he was a boy, and had heard of his fame as a warrior.\nTherefore he bade Wulfgar bring him to his presence, and soon Beowulf\nstood 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 thee\nout. For I have wrought great deeds in the past, and now I shall do\nbattle against this monster. Men say that so thick is his tawny hide\nthat no weapon can injure him. I therefore disdain to carry sword or\nshield into the combat, but will fight with the strength of my arm only,\nand either I will conquer the fiend or he will bear away my dead body to\nthe moor. Send to Higelac, if I fall in the fight, my beautiful\nbreastplate. I have no fear of death, for Destiny must ever be 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, and\nall the noble warriors gathered together, and a great feast was held\nonce more in Heorot with song and revelry. Waltheow, Hrothgar's queen,\ncame forth also, and handed the wine-cup to each of the thanes, pledging\nthe king in joyful mood and thanking Beowulf for his offer of help.\n\nAt last all the company arose to go to rest; and Hrothgar entrusted the\nguardianship of Heorot to Beowulf with cheering words, and so bade him\ngood 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 Grendel\nlaughed in his heart as he gazed at them, thinking to feast upon them\nall. Quickly he seized a sleeping warrior and devoured him; then,\nstepping forward, he reached out his hand towards Beowulf as he lay at\nrest.\n\nBut the hero was ready for him, and seized his arm in a deadly grip such\nas Grendel had never felt before. Terror arose in the monster's heart,\nand 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 the\nhall with the violence of their fight. Suddenly a new and terrible cry\narose, the cry of Grendel in fear and pain, for never once did Beowulf\nrelax his hold upon him. Then many of Beowulf's earls drew their swords\nand rushed to aid their master; but no blade could pierce him and\nnothing 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 Beowulf\nrejoiced at his night's work, wherein he had freed Heorot forever from\nthe fiend's ravages.\n\nNow on the morrow the warriors flocked to the hall; and when they heard\nwhat had taken place, they went out and followed Grendel's tracks to a\nmere upon the moors, into which he had plunged and given up his life.\nThen, sure of his death, they returned rejoicing to Heorot, talking of\nBeowulf's glorious deed; and there they found the king and queen and a\ngreat company of people awaiting them.\n\nAnd now there was great rejoicing and happiness. Fair and gracious were\nthe 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, all\nadorned with gold and richly ornamented. Also he gave orders to the\nservants to bring into the court eight horses, on one of which was a\ncuriously adorned and very precious saddle, which the king was wont to\nuse himself when he rode to practice the sword-game. These also he gave\nto Beowulf, thus like a true man requiting his valiant deeds with horses\nand other precious gifts. He bestowed treasures also on each of\nBeowulf's followers and gave orders that a price should be paid in gold\nfor the man whom the wicked Grendel had slain.\n\nAfter this there arose within the hall the din of voices and the sound\nof song; the instruments also were brought out and Hrothgar's minstrel\nsang a ballad for the delight of the warriors. Waltheow too came forth,\nbearing in her train presents for Beowulf--a cup, two armlets, raiment\nand rings, and the largest and richest collar that could be found in all\nthe 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 and\narmor beside them as was their custom. But Beowulf was not with them,\nfor another resting-place had been assigned to him that night, for all\nthought 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 witch\nwho dwelt at the bottom of a cold mere, came to Heorot to avenge her son\nand burst into the hall. The thanes started up in terror, hastily\ngrasping their swords; but she seized upon Asher, the most beloved of\nHrothgar's warriors, who still lay sleeping, and bore him off with her\nto the fens, carrying also with her Grendel's arm, which lay at one end\nof 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 where\nsome mountain trees bent over a hoar rock, beneath which lay a dreary\nand troubled lake; and there beside the water's edge lay the head of\nAsher, and they knew that the witch must be at the bottom of the 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 light\nof 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 and\nonce more stood upright.\n\nThen he suddenly perceived an ancient sword hanging upon the wall of the\nden, and seized it as a last resource. Fierce and savage, but well-nigh\nhopeless, he struck the monster heavily upon the neck with it. Then, to\nhis joy, the blade pierced right through her body and she sank down\ndying.\n\nAt that moment the flames of the fire leapt up, throwing a brilliant\nlight over the den; and there against the wall Beowulf beheld the dead\nbody of Grendel lying on a couch. With one swinging blow of the powerful\nsword he struck off his head as a trophy to carry to 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 helped\nhim to undo his armor, while others prepared to carry the great head of\nGrendel back to Heorot. It took four men to carry it, and ghastly,\nthough 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 the\ndepth of his heart for his valiant deeds; and as before a fair feast was\nprepared and the warriors made merry till night came and they repaired\nto 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 to\nHrothgar. 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, I\nwill bring a thousand thanes to thy aid; and I know that Higelac will\nuphold me in this.\"\n\n\"Dear are thy words to me, O Beowulf,\" Hrothgar made answer, \"and great\nis thy wisdom. If Fate should take away the life of Higelac; the Geats\ncould have no better king than thou; and hereafter there shall never\nmore be feuds between the Danes and the Geats, for thou by thy great\ndeeds 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 he\ngrown 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 and\nsailed away with his followers to his own country, taking with him the\nmany gifts that Hrothgar had made to him. And coming to Higelac's court,\nhe told him of his adventures, and having shown him the treasure, gave\nit all up to him, so loyal and true was he. But Higelac in return gave\nBeowulf a goodly sword and seven thousand pieces of gold and a\nmanor-house, also a princely seat for him to dwell in. There Beowulf\nlived in peace, and not for many years was he called to fresh\nadventures.\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 treasures,\nfor she feared that her young son Heardred was not strong enough to hold\nthe 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 more\nBeowulf 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. The\ntreasure 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 asleep\nand 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 be\nburnt up by the flames of the fire-dragon. Then he chose out eleven of\nhis earls, and together they set out for the mountain, led thither by\nthe 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 foe.\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 any\nsword 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 will\nsurvive the deadly combat, for this is no enterprise for you. I only can\nattempt it, because such great strength has been given to me. Therefore\nI will do battle alone and will either slay the dragon and win the\ntreasure for my people or fall in the fight, as destiny shall appoint.\"\n\nWhen he had spoken thus Beowulf strode forward to the fight, armed with\nhis iron shield, his sword and his dagger. A stone arch spanned the\nmouth of the cave, and on one side a boiling stream, hot as though with\nraging fires, rushed forth. Undaunted by it, Beowulf uttered a shout to\nsummon the dragon to the fight. Immediately a burning breath from the\nmonster came out of the rock, the earth rumbled and then the dragon\nrushed forth to meet his fate.\n\nStanding with his huge shield held well before him, Beowulf received the\nattack and struck from beneath his shield at the monster's side. But his\nblade failed him and turned aside, and the blow but served to enrage\nthe dragon, so that he darted forth such blasting rays of deadly fire\nthat Beowulf was well nigh overwhelmed and the fight went hard 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 no\nlonger, but grasped his wooden shield and his sword and cried to the\nother thanes:\n\n\"Remember how we promised our lord in the banquet-hall, when he gave us\nour helmets and swords and battle-gear, that we would one day repay him\nfor his gifts. Now is the day come that our liege lord has need of the\nstrength of good warriors. We must go help him, even though he thought\nto accomplish this mighty work alone, for we can never return to our\nhomes if we have not slain the enemy and saved our king's life. Rather\nthan live when he is dead, I will perish with him in this deadly 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 sword,\nit was shivered to pieces. Then the dragon flung himself upon him and\ncaught him up in his arms, crushing him till he lay senseless and\ncovered with wounds.\n\nBut now Wiglaf showed his valor and strength, and smote the monster with\nsuch mighty blows that at last the fire coming forth from him began to\nabate somewhat. Then Beowulf came once more to his senses, and drawing\nhis deadly knife, struck with it from beneath; and at last the force of\nthe blows from the two noble kinsmen felled the fierce fire-dragon and\nhe sank down dead beside them.\n\nBut Beowulf's wounds were very great, and he knew that the joys of life\nwere ended for him and that death was very near. So while Wiglaf with\nwonderful tenderness unfastened his helmet for him and refreshed him\nwith 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 nor\nled my kinsmen to dire slaughter when there was no need. Therefore the\nRuler of all men will not blame me when my life departs from my body.\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 before\nI die.\"\n\nSo Wiglaf went into the cave and there he saw many precious jewels, old\nvessels, helmets, gold armlets and other treasures, which excelled in\nbeauty and number any that mankind has ever known. Moreover, high above\nthe treasure flapped a marvelous gilded standard, from which came a ray\nof light which lit up all the cave.\n\nThen Wiglaf seized as much as he could carry of the precious spoils, and\ntaking the standard also, hastened back to his lord, dreading lest he\nshould find him already dead.\n\nBeowulf was very near his life's end, but when Wiglaf had again revived\nhim with water, he had strength to speak once more.\n\n[Illustration: SIEGFRIED CAME OFF VICTOR IN EVERY ENCOUNTER]\n\n[Illustration: BEOWULF FACE TO FACE WITH THE FIRE-BREATHING DRAGON]\n\n\"Glad am I,\" he said, \"that I have been able before my death to gain so\nmuch for my people. But now I may no longer abide here. Bid the gallant\nwarriors burn my body on the headland here which juts into the sea, and\nafterwards raise a huge mound on the same spot, that the sailors who\ndrive their vessels over the misty floods may call it Beowulf's Mound.\"\n\nThen the dauntless prince undid the golden collar from his neck and gave\nit 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 he\ngave ye. Little could he boast of his comrades when the hour of need\ncame. I myself was able to give him some succor in the fight, but ye\nshould 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 had\nhappened and of the mound that Beowulf wished them to build. Then they\ngathered together at the mouth of the cave and gazed with tears upon\ntheir lifeless lord and looked with awe upon the huge dragon as it lay\nstiff in death beside its conqueror. Afterwards, led by Wiglaf, seven\nchosen earls entered the cave and brought forth all the treasure, while\nothers busied themselves in preparing the funeral pyre.\n\nWhen all was ready and the huge pile of wood had been hung with helmets,\nwar-shields and bright coats of mail, as befitted the funeral pyre of a\nnoble warrior, the earls brought their beloved lord's body to the spot\nand laid it on the wood. Then they kindled the fire and stood by\nmourning and uttering sorrowful chants, while the smoke rose up and the\nfire roared and the body was consumed away. Afterwards they built a\nmound on the hill, making it high and broad so that it could be seen\nfrom very far away. Ten days they spent in building it; and because they\ndesired to pay the highest of honors to Beowulf, they buried in it the\nwhole of the treasure that the dragon had guarded, for no price was too\nheavy to pay as a token of their love for their lord. So the treasure\neven now remains in the earth, as useless as it was before.\n\nWhen at last the mound was completed, the noble warriors gathered\ntogether and rode around it, lamenting their king and singing the praise\nof his valor and mighty deeds.\n\nThus mourned the people of the Geats for the fall of Beowulf, who of all\nkings in the world was the mildest and kindest, the most gracious to his\npeople, 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 about\nhim in his famous Round Table, knights of splendid courage, tried and\nproven. So well loved was the story of Arthur in other countries as well\nas in England that it was among the very first works ever printed in\nEurope, and it was still welcomed centuries later when the great English\npoet, Alfred Tennyson, told it in his _Idylls of the King_.\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,[1] an\nold friend of Uther's. Here the young prince lived as a child of the\nhouse.\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 out\ninto the churchyard, there they beheld a large block of stone, upon\nwhich rested a heavy anvil. The blade of a jeweled sword was sunk deeply\ninto the anvil.\n\nWondering, the noblemen drew near. One of them discovered an inscription\nupon the hilt which said that none but the man who could draw out the\nsword should ever rule in Uther's place. One by one they tried, but the\nsword 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, on\narriving at the tourney ground, he discovered that he had forgotten to\nbring 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 the\nhilt 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,\" was\nthe 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 present\ntried to draw it forth. None succeeded. Then Arthur again stepped up,\ngrasped the hilt and pulled out the blade.\n\n\"The king, the king!\" the people cried; for they knew that at last they\nhad found a worthy successor to the good King Uther.\n\nSo Arthur was crowned king and entered upon that wise and kingly rule of\nwhich 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 THE 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, straighten'd, 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 Caesar'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 mark'd 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 linger'd 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 Gorlois, 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 reached 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 Carados, 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 help 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 Gorlois,\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 Gorlois, 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 Gorlois,\n So loathed the bright dishonor of his love,\n That Gorlois and King Uther went to war:\n And overthrown was Gorlois 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 Gorlois. 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 Gorlois 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 Gorlois, 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 dais, 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 counseled 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 Gorlois and Ygerne am I\";\n \"And therefore Arthur's sister?\" asked the King.\n She answered, \"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 Gorlois, 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 follow'd 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 question'd 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 honor'd 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\n THE 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 shattered 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; 'tis 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 dais-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\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] This name is otherwise given as _Sir Ector_, and by Tennyson as\n_Sir Anton_.\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 their\nson, the glorious hero Siegfried, was still more widely celebrated. Even\nas a boy he performed so many daring feats that his bravery was talked\nof 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 the\nrich treasure of the Nibelungs. The hoard was an ancient one and had\nthis wonderful property--that no matter how much was taken from it the\nquantity 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 place.\nSiegfried was solemnly girded with a sword and permitted to take his\nplace among the warriors of the kingdom. Then there was a great\ntournament, a wonderful occasion for Siegfried, who came off victor in\nevery encounter, although many tried warriors matched their skill\nagainst his. Altogether the festivities lasted seven whole days.\n\nAfter the guests had departed, Siegfried asked permission of his parents\nto travel into Burgundy to seek as bride for himself Kriemhild, the\nmaiden of whose great beauty and loveliness he had heard.\n\nGunther, the king of Burgundy, recognizing the young hero, went out to\nmeet 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 brave\nSiegfried came to the rescue, saying that if Gunther would give him only\none thousand brave men he would repel the enemy. This was done and the\nlittle army marched into Saxony and routed the twenty thousand valiant\nsoldiers of the enemy's force. All the men did brave work, but Siegfried\nwas 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 to\nimagine. What was his delight, then, to learn that he had been appointed\nher escort.\n\nOn the way to the tournament Kriemhild murmured her thanks for the good\nwork Siegfried had done for her, and Siegfried vowed that he would\nalways serve her brothers because of his great love for her.\n\nSoon after the tournament Gunther announced his intention of winning for\nhis wife, Brunhild, the princess of Issland, who had vowed to marry no\nman but the one who could surpass her in jumping, throwing a stone and\ncasting a spear. Gunther proposed that Siegfried go with him, promising\nhim, in return for his services, the hand of Kriemhild. Such an offer\nwas not to be despised, and Siegfried immediately consented; advising\nGunther to take only Hagen and Dankwart with him.\n\nGunther and the three knights set out in a small vessel. Siegfried bade\nhis companions represent him as Gunther's vassal only; but Brunhild,\nseeing his giant figure and guessing its strength, imagined that he had\ncome to woo her. She was dismayed, therefore, when she heard that he had\nheld the stirrup for Gunther to dismount. When he entered her hall, she\nadvanced to meet him; but he drew aside, saying that honor was due to\nhis master Gunther.\n\nBrunhild ordered preparations for the evening contest, and Gunther,\nHagen and Dankwart trembled when they saw four men staggering under the\nweight of Brunhild's shield and three more staggering under the weight\nof her spear. Siegfried, meantime, had donned his magic cloud cloak and\nbade 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 Gunther\nby his broad girdle bounded through the air with him and alighted beyond\nthe stone. Then Brunhild knew that she had found her master.\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 Siegfried\nhad gathered for the purpose. A great banquet was given upon their\nreturn, at which the impatient Siegfried ventured to remind Gunther of\nhis promise. Brunhild protested that Gunther should not give his only\nsister to a menial, but Gunther gave his consent and the marriage took\nplace immediately. The two bridal couples then sat side by side.\nKriemhild's face was very happy; Brunhild's was dark and frowning.\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 entered\nthe apartments of Gunther and Brunhild. As he entered he blew out the\nlights, caught Brunhild's hands and wrestled with her until she pleaded\nfor mercy.\n\n\"Great king, forbear,\" she said. \"I will henceforth be thy dutiful wife.\nI 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 to\npay a visit to Gunther and Brunhild. They accepted, leaving their little\nson 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 a\nhot dispute, Kriemhild declaring that her husband was without peer in\nthe world, and Brunhild retorting that since he was Gunther's vassal he\nmust be his inferior. Kriemhild made an angry avowal that she would\npublicly 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 words\nfollowed. Finally Kriemhild insulted the other queen by declaring that\nBrunhild was not a faithful wife.\n\n\"You loved Siegfried better than Gunther,\" she declared. \"Here are your\ngirdle and ring which my husband gave to me.\" So saying, she displayed\nthe girdle and ring which Siegfried had unwisely given her when he\nconfided to her the story of Gunther's wooing.\n\nBrunhild summoned Gunther to defend her, and he sent for Siegfried. The\nlatter publicly swore that his wife had not told the truth and that\nBrunhild 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 old\nenemy Ludeger was about to bring upon him. Siegfried consented, and\nKriemhild, 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 a\ntiny cross on Siegfried's doublet, just over the vulnerable spot, that I\nmay be the better able to shield him.\"\n\nBrunhild 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 her\nand comforted her and kissed her rosy lips.\n\n\"Dear heart,\" he said, \"why all these tears? I shall not be gone long.\"\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 the\nrebellion had been quelled and that he was invited to join in a hunt\ninstead 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 in\na spirit of mischief turned him loose among the guests. Then, tired and\nthirsty, 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 proposed\na race, offering to run in full armor while the others ran without armor\nor weapons. In spite of the handicap, Siegfried reached the spring\nfirst.\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 body\nat the exact spot where Kriemhild had embroidered the fatal mark.\n\nSiegfried struggled to avenge himself, but found nothing but his shield\nwithin reach. This he flung with such force at his murderer that it\nknocked him down. Exhausted by the effort, the hero fell back upon the\ngrass, 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 she\nwould see it when she went out for early mass the next morning. As he\nexpected, Kriemhild discovered her dead lord and fell senseless upon\nhim. Recovering, she cried out that he had been murdered: no foeman in a\nfair fight could have killed the glorious knight.\n\nA great funeral took place and Siegfried's body was laid in state in the\ncathedral at Worms. Thither many came to view it and to express their\nsympathy for the widow Kriemhild. The latter, suspecting treachery,\nrefused to listen to Gunther until he promised that all of those present\nat 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 the\nNibelung warriors wanted to avenge the dead, but Kriemhild would not\npermit them to interrupt the funeral. So the ceremonies were concluded\nand 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 her\nhand in marriage. More urgent than all the others was the invincible\nhero, Count Telramund, her former guardian, who since the death of her\nfather had ruled over the land with masterly hand. Now the duke, her\nfather, on his death-bed had promised Telramund that he might have Elsa\nfor wife, should she be willing; and Telramund was continually reminding\nher of this. But Elsa blushed with shame at the mere thought of such a\nunion, for Telramund was a rough warrior, as much hated for his cruelty\nas he was feared for his strength. To make matters worse he was now at\nthe court of the chosen King Henry of Saxony, threatening her with war\nand even worse calamities.\n\nIn the shade of the linden Elsa thought of all this, and pitied her own\nloneliness in that no brother or friend stood at her side to help her.\nThen the sweet singing of birds seemed to comfort her, and she dropped\ninto a gentle sleep. As she dreamed it seemed to her that a young knight\nstepped out of the depths of the forest. Holding up a small silver bell,\nhe 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 the\noutstretched 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 kingdom\nwas in constant danger from inroads by wild Huns, and for this reason he\nwished to do whatever would win the favor of the powerful Count\nTelramund. When, however, he saw Elsa in all her beauty and innocence he\nhesitated 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 seemed\nvalid, 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 his\nsword in defense of her Innocence. Fear of the mighty warrior Telramund\nfilled them all.\n\nRemembering the little bell, she drew it forth from her pocket and rang\nit. The clear tones broke the stillness, grew louder and louder until\nthey reached even the distant mountains.\n\n\"My champion will appear in the contest,\" she said; where-upon the\ncount let forth such a mocking laugh that the hearts of all were filled\nwith intense fear.\n\nThe day of the contest was at hand. The king sat on his high throne and\nwatched 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 a\ngolden horn. This was the signal that he took up the challenge. Quickly\nhe 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 it\nis 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 hordes\nand will be the leader of the detachment which the fair duchess will\nsend from Brabant.\"\n\nGladly Lohengrin consented, and amid cries of delight from the assembled\npeople he rode over to Elsa, who greeted him as her deliverer.\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 I\nsurely 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, where\nall the counts of the kingdom were assembled. Here there were many\ninquiries concerning Lohengrin, and when none seemed to know of his\norigin, 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 she\nknew the noble heart of her husband. He had even relieved her fears for\nhis safety by the assurance that he was under the protection of powers\nhigher 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 to\nthe king and to all the assembled princes, what up to this time I have\nkept 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 who\nwere assembled on the banks of the Rhine.\n\n[Illustration: ELSA ON HER KNEES BEFORE LOHENGRIN]\n\n[Illustration: FRITHIOF AND INGEBORG IN THE TEMPLE OF BALDER]\n\n\"The son of Parsifal am I,\" he said, \"the son of Parsifal, the keeper of\nthe Holy Grail. Gladly would I have helped you, O King, in your fight\nagainst the barbarians, but an unavoidable fate calls me away. You will,\nhowever, be victorious, and under your descendants will Germany become a\npowerful 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 again\nthe 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 higher\nduty 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 ship\nof death and destruction, or only the ship that carried the blessed to\nthe 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 parted\nwillingly with her own life, as other children of earth have done when\nthey 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, had\nlikewise sailed abroad, capturing many priceless treasures and making a\ngreat name for himself.\n\nFrithiof was entrusted to the care of Hilding, his foster father, and in\nhis care, also, were Halfdan and Helge, King Bele's sons, and, some\nyears later, their little sister, Ingeborg. Frithiof and Ingeborg became\nfirm friends, and as the lad increased in bravery and strength, the girl\nincreased in beauty and loveliness of soul. Hilding, noticing how each\nday they became fonder of each other, called Frithiof to him and bade\nhim remember that he was only a humble subject and could never hope to\nwed Ingeborg, the king's only daughter, descended from the great god\nOdin. The warning, however, came too late, for Frithiof already loved\nthe fair maiden, and vowed that he would have her for his bride at any\ncost.\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 of\nthat of his dear friend Thorsten, so that their spirits might not be\nseparated even in death. Then Ingeborg went to live with her brothers,\nthe Kings of Sogn, while Frithiof retired to his own home at Framnas,\nclosed 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 and\ntheir sister Ingeborg, among many other guests, attended. Frithiof and\nIngeborg were much together, and Frithiof was very happy to learn that\nIngeborg 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 Bjorn, his chief companion,\nthat he would follow after her and ask for her hand. His ship was\nprepared and soon he touched the shore near the temple of the god\nBalder.\n\nHis request was not granted and Helge dismissed him contemptuously. In a\nrage at the insult Frithiof lifted his sword; but remembering that he\nstood on consecrated ground near Bele's tomb, he spared the king, only\ncutting his heavy shield in two to show the strength of his blade.\n\nSoon after his departure another suitor, the aged King Ring of Norway\nsought the hand of Ingeborg in marriage, and being refused, collected an\narmy and prepared to make war on Helge 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 once\nto Ingeborg. He found her in tears at the shrine of Balder, and although\nit was considered a sin for a man and woman to exchange words in the\nsacred 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 a\ntempest 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 song\nhe stood at the helm, caring nothing for the waves that raged about the\nship. He comforted his crew, and then climbed the mast to keep a sharp\nlookout 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 whale\nand 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 Bjorn 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, Atle, 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,\" Atle said, when he saw that Frithiof would\nhave killed him.\n\nKnowing that Atle 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 Helge, and would pay him none,\nbut to Frithiof he gave a vast treasure, telling him that he might\ndispose 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 Helge and\nHalfdan had already given their sister in marriage to Sigurd Ring. In a\nrage he bade his men destroy all the vessels in the harbor, while he\nstrode toward the temple of Balder where Helge and his wife were. He\nflung Angantyr's purse of gold in Helge's face, and seeing the ring he\nhad given to Ingeborg on the hand of Helge'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 tribute\nfrom other ships or sacking them if they would not pay tribute; for this\noccupation in the days of Frithiof was considered wholly respectable. It\nwas followed again and again by the brave men of the North.\n\nBut Frithiof was often homesick, and longed to enter a harbor, and lead\nagain 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 old\ncloak and approached the court. He found a seat on a bench near the\ndoor, as beggars usually did; but when one insulting courtier mocked him\nhe lifted the offender in his mighty hand and swung him high over his\nhead.\n\nAt this Sigurd Ring invited the old man to remove his mantle and take a\nseat near him. With surprise Sigurd and his courtiers saw step from the\ntattered mantle a handsome warrior, richly clad; but only Ingeborg knew\nwho 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 in\nthe 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 the\nground to rest, feigning sleep. The birds and beasts of the forest drew\nnear and whispered to Frithiof that he should slay the king and have\nIngeborg for his own wife. But Frithiof was too fine and loyal to listen\nto 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. Be\npatient now a little longer and you shall have Ingeborg, for my end is\nnear.\"\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 the\npublic 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 of\nSigurd 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 runs,\nhe returned to his own country and built again the temple of Balder,\nmore beautiful by far than any before.\n\n\n\n\nWAYLAND THE SMITH\n\n\nKing Nidung had one daughter and three sons. The oldest son, Otvin, was\naway from court, guarding the outposts of the country; the other two\nsons 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 the\nwish and consent of your father. If he is willing, you may come again;\nbut 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, has\nsaid 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 to\nfind 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 have\ngone back. But they were not there. Then Nidung sent his servants far\nand wide throughout the country, and when the boys were nowhere to be\nfound, he concluded that they must have been devoured by wild animals.\n\nWhen all the searches were over, Wayland brought forth the bodies of the\ntwo children, stripped the bones of flesh, whitened them, and made them\ninto goblets and vessels for the king's table, mounting them with silver\nand gold. The king was delighted with them, and had them placed upon his\nboard whenever there were guests of honor present.\n\nA long time later, Badhild, the king's daughter, while playing with her\ncompanions in the garden one day, broke a costly ring that Nidung had\ngiven 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 Wayland.\nShe brought it back with her.\n\n\"Without the command of the king he will not mend it,\" she said, \"unless\nthe 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 said,\n\"This ring you shall keep as well as your own, if you will be my\nbride.\"\n\n[Illustration: WAYLAND THE SMITH, WEARING THE WINGS HE HAD FASHIONED]\n\n[Illustration: ZIDOVIN THREW THE IRON CLUB INTO THE AIR AND CAUGHT IT\nWITH ONE HAND]\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 apple\nin 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 but\nseldom 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 I\nshall go away from here and never see his face; but you must tell him\nthat I have made for him worthy weapons and stowed them in safety in the\nplace where the water enters and the wind goes out (the forge).\"\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 more\nlike 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 in\nthe shirt. Then with Eigil's help he put on the feathers, flapped his\nwings and rose into the air. He lighted on a turret of the castle and\ncalled down to Eigil.\n\n\"I did not tell you the truth when I said that you should alight _with_\nthe wind, for I knew that if you found out how easy it was to fly you\nwould never give me the shirt back again. You can see for yourself that\nall birds rise against the wind and alight in the same way. I am going\nhome to my own country, but first I must have a few words with Nidung.\nAnd, remember, if he bids you shoot me, shoot under the left wing, for\nthere I have fastened a bladder filled with blood.\"\n\nWith these words Wayland flew to the highest tower of the king's castle\nand called to the king as he passed with his courtiers.\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 power.\nListen while I speak. You promised once to give me your daughter and the\nhalf of your kingdom, but you made of me instead an outcast--because I\ndefended myself and killed the wretches who would have taken my life.\n\n\"You surprised me while I slept and stole my arms and my treasures; and\nnot satisfied with that you laid a net for my feet and made of me a\ncripple. But I have had my revenge. Do you know where your sons are?\"\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 ship\nand the edge of the shield, by the back of the horse and the blade of\nthe 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 skill,\nand 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 Twardowski,\nwho quite properly was called the Faust of Poland, because of his\ndealings 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 his\nprofession that it was not long before he was the most celebrated doctor\nin all Poland. But Twardowski was not satisfied with this. He craved\ngreater 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 seven\nyears 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 stone\nhe wrote the compact, which Twardowski, making a slight wound in his\narm, signed with his own blood.\n\nWhen Twardowski descended from the mountain and made his way, book under\narm, through the valley, he heard the bells in all the towers of the\ncity 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 one\nseemed to have heard the sound.\n\nThen a deep feeling of sadness came over him as he realized the meaning\nof 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 demanded\nwas to have all the silver of Poland gathered together in one place and\ncovered over with great mounds of sand.\n\nSimilar requests followed, and it was not long before the devil repented\nof his bargain. One day it would please Twardowski to fly without wings\nthrough the air; on another, to the delight of the crowd, to gallop\nbackward on a cock; on another to float in a boat without a rudder or\nsail, accompanied by some maiden who for the moment had inflamed his\nheart. One day, by the use of his magic mirror, he set fire to the\ncastle of an enemy a mile away. This last feat made him greatly feared\nby 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 fulfill\nyour 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 up\nunder his cloak and carried him home. The next morning the child was the\nsize of a twelve-year old; and after seven weeks he was a full-grown\nman.\n\nTwardowski, who now seemed quite himself, only younger and stronger,\nthanked Famulus and resumed again his study of magic. He desired, above\nall things, to be freed forever from his compact with the devil. This,\nhe read in one of the books, he might do if he would brave the terrors\nof the underworld.\n\nSo Twardowski determined to enter the gates of hell. At his magic speech\nthe ground opened and he began the path of descent. Blue flames lighted\nthe way. Deeper and deeper he went through dark and winding passages.\nAt last he reached the underworld itself, and many awful sights did he\nbehold.\n\nAnd the farther he went the more frightened did he become. He could not\nhelp feeling that the devil had plotted something against him. Finally\nhe found himself in a small room, and cast a hasty glance around,\nlooking 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 door\nopened 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 promise?\nThe 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 such\nanguish in the clutches of the Evil One that in a few moments he was\nchanged into an old man, but he did not lose consciousness. At last so\nhigh were they that cities appeared like flies and Krakau with its\nmighty turrets like two spiders. Deeply moved, Twardowski looked down\nupon 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. Only\noccasionally bright stars passed by them, or fiery meteors, leaving a\nlong streak of light behind.\n\nAt last they came to the moon, which stared at them with dead eyes. Then\na song that Twardowski had read in his mother's hymn book rose to his\nlips. And as he repeated mechanically the prayer his mother had taught\nhim 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 of\nheaven to this very day.\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 long\nyears had they kept watch at their post and no stranger had ever passed\nby 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 against\nthe stranger. So Dobrnja mounted his war-horse and galloped forth to\nmeet 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 have\nomitted to send greeting to our captain Ilia Muromec, or to inform him\nof your approach.\"\n\nWhen Zidovin heard these words he turned quickly and rode toward Dobrnja\nwith such force that springs and lakes appeared wherever the hoofs of\nhis black horse touched the ground. And the trembling of the earth\ncaused 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 all\nthe entreaties of his knights could not restrain him. So he rode out to\na high point where he could see Zidovin, watch him as he threw his\nhundred-weight club up into the clouds, caught it with one hand, and\nswung 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 their\nsaddles, so unshakable 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, drew\nout his sharp knife, and was about to cut off the head of his enemy.\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 from\nhim with such force that his body touched the clouds before it fell\nagain in the moist earth at his feet. Cutting off the warrior's head, he\nmounted his horse and rode back to the castle. To his knights he said:\n\n\"Thirty years have I ridden in the field and thirty years have I fought\nwith heroes and tested my strength; but such a mighty man as Zidovin\nhave I in all that time never met.\"\n\n\n\n\nKRALEWITZ MARKO OF SERVIA\n\n\nKralewitz Marko was the son of a Servian king who lived many, many years\nago. He was very fond of hunting, and one day he rode forth on his horse\nSaria to the mountain Sargau. Being tired, he dismounted, tied his horse\nto 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 horse,\nand rode away with him to Jedrena, where they presented him to the\nvizier.\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 liberty\nand home. Then he learned that in a few days he was to be executed.\n\nImmediately he wrote a letter to his friend, Milos Obilis, asking for\nhelp. This important message he entrusted to his only companion, a white\nfalcon. 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 open\nfield in which the execution was to take place. Two Arabs stood up with\ngleaming swords prepared to cut off Marko's head.\n\n\"Hold on, brothers,\" cried Milos. \"I will give you a sharper sword with\nwhich to cut off the malicious head of the noble Piam. See, with this\nsword did the good-for-nothing treacherously slay my father. Cursed be\nhis 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 other.\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 country.\n\nMarko waited for and soon found the opportunity of showing his gratitude\nto his friend, for Milos and two of his brothers were thrown into prison\nin Varadin. Milos wrote with his own blood a letter to Marko, asking for\nhelp.\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 general,\npassed by. When she saw the king's son she was frightened and ran and\ntold her father-in-law.\n\nThen the general sent out his son Velimir with three hundred men to take\nMarko prisoner. The knights encircled Kralewitz Marko, but he continued\ndrinking his wine and paid no attention to them. But Saria noticed them,\nand drawing near her master began beating the ground with 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\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 his\nwine.\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 against\nthem, his sword in his right hand, his spear in his left, and the reins\nheld between his teeth.\n\nEvery knight he touched with either sword or spear fell instantly to the\nground, and when Vuca, the general, wholly dismayed, tried to escape on\nhis fiery Arabian horse, Marko followed him, threw him, bound him, and\nled him to the place where his son lay. Then he bound the two together,\ntossed them on the saddle of the Arabian horse and rode home. There he\nput 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 son\nreturn to me.\"\n\n\"Never fear,\" answered Milos. \"Give me the general's black horse; adorn\nhim as the general adorned him; give me a golden chariot with twelve\nhorses, such as the general rides in when he journeys to the emperor in\nVienna; and give me the robe that the general wears on state 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 them\nwith a strong body-guard back to Varadin. Then Milos and his brothers\ndivided the ducats among them, kissed the hand of the king's son, and\nrode away into their own country.\n\n\n\n\nTHE DECISION OF LIBUSCHA\n\n\nThere dwelt once in the neighborhood of Gruenberg 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 that\nhe should inherit all of the estate--and that is the custom in some\ncountries, you know--while the younger son, Staglow, declared that the\nproperty 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 to\nlaw.\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\nDeeply grieved, the maiden-princess Libuscha rose, explaining that she\nwould no longer rule alone. She commanded the people to choose her a\nhusband.\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 hand\nto 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. It\nhad lain for many, many years among other old documents in the great\nchests that lined the walls of the courtroom in the ancient Castle\nGruenberg in Bohemia. The manuscript is now in a great museum in Prague,\nand perhaps, some day, when you go there, you will see it for yourself.\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 you\na 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 as\na true knight should speak: \"I am right thankful to you, father-in-law,\nthat you have caused me to be put in this place. Of a truth the King of\nFrance shall lose nothing by my means, neither charger, nor mule, nor\npack-horse, nor beast of burden.\"\n\nThen Roland turned to the King and said, \"Give me twenty thousand only,\nso they be men of valor, and I will keep the passes in all safety. So\nlong 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 keep\nthe passes.\n\nMeanwhile King Charles had entered the valley of Roncesvalles. High were\nthe mountains on either side of the way, and the valleys were gloomy and\ndark. But when the army had passed through the valley, they saw the\nfair land of Gascony, and as they saw it they thought of their homes and\ntheir wives and daughters. There was not one of them but wept for very\ntenderness of heart. But of all that company there was none sadder than\nthe King himself, when he thought how he had left his nephew Count\nRoland 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 with\nthem to Saragossa as many men as they could gather together. And when\nthey were come to the city, it being the third day from the issuing of\nthe King's command, they saluted the great image of Mahomet, the false\nprophet, that stood on the topmost tower. This done they went forth from\nthe city gates. They made all haste, marching across the mountains and\nvalleys of Spain till they came in sight of the standard of France,\nwhere Roland and Oliver and the Twelve Peers were ranged in battle\narray.\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; their\nstandards were of white, blue, and red. Their mules they left with the\nservants, and, mounting their chargers, so moved forwards. Fair was the\nday and bright the sun, as their armor flashed in the light, and the\ndrums were beaten so loudly that the Frenchmen heard the 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 an\nill example.\"\n\nOliver climbed to the top of a hill; and saw from thence the whole army\nof the heathen. He cried to Roland his companion, \"I see the flashing of\narms. We men of France shall have no small trouble therefrom. This is\nthe 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 on.\nSo 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 be\nnot conquered.\" And all the army shouted with one voice, \"Cursed be he\nthat 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 been\nill-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 kinsmen,\nor to the fair land of France. I have my sword; that shall suffice for\nme. These evil-minded heathen are gathered together against us to their\nown hurt. Surely not one of them shall escape from death.\"\n\n\"As for me,\" said Oliver, \"I see not where the dishonor would be. I saw\nthe 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 here,\nwe should not be in danger; but there are some here today who will never\nfight 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 fight\nfor it. Fight ye must; be sure of that, for there under your eyes are\nthe Saracens. Confess, therefore, your sins, and pray to God that He\nhave mercy upon you. And now for your soul's health I will give you all\nabsolution. If you die, you will be God's martyrs, every one of you, and\nyour 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 their\nfeet. They had received absolution, and were set free from all their\nsins, and the Archbishop had blessed them in the name of God. After this\nthey mounted their swift steeds, and clad themselves in armor, and made\nthemselves 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; 'tis\nthe King Marsilas that has made merchandise of us, but verily it is\nwith our swords that he shall be paid.\" So saying, he rode on to the\npass, mounted on his good steed Veillantif. His spear he held with the\npoint to the sky; a white flag it bore with fringes of gold which fell\ndown to his hands. A stalwart man was he, and his countenance was fair\nand smiling. Behind him followed Oliver, his friend; and the men of\nFrance pointed to him, saying, \"See our champion!\" Pride was in his eye\nwhen he looked towards the Saracens; but to the men of France his regard\nwas all sweetness and humility. Full courteously he spake to them:\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 the\nblame, for he knows nothing of what has chanced. But do you, lords of\nFrance, charge as fiercely as you may, and yield not one whit to the\nenemy. Think upon these two things only--how to deal a straight blow and\nto take it. And let us not forget King Charles' cry of battle.\"\n\nThen all the men of France with one voice cried out, \"Mountjoy!\" He that\nheard them so cry had never doubted that they were men of valor. Proud\nwas their array as they rode on to battle, spurring their horses that\nthey might speed the more. And the Saracens, on their part, came forward\nwith a good heart. Thus did the Frenchmen and the heathen meet in the\nshock 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. Many\na heathen warrior did he slay, till at last his spear was shivered in\nhis hand. \"What are you doing, comrade?\" cried Roland, when he was aware\nof the mishap. \"A man wants no staff in such a battle as this. 'Tis the\nsteel and nothing else that he must have. Where is your sword Hautclere,\nwith its hilt of gold and its pommel of crystal?\"\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 very\nbackbone also of the steed whereon he rode, so that horse and man fell\ndead together on the plains. \"Well done!\" cried Roland; \"you are a true\nbrother of mine. 'Tis such strokes as this that make the King love 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 flags\ntorn, and many gallant youths cut off in their prime. Never more would\nthey see mother and wife. It was an ill deed that the traitor Ganelon\nwrought when he sold his fellows to King Marsilas!\n\nAnd now there befell a new trouble. King Almaris, with a great host of\nheathen, coming by an unknown way, fell upon the rear of the host where\nthere was another pass. Fiercely did the noble Walter that kept the same\ncharge the newcomers, but they overpowered him and his followers. He was\nwounded with four several lances, and four times did he swoon, so that\nat the last he was constrained to leave the field of battle, that he\nmight call the Count Roland to his aid. But small was the aid which\nRoland could give him or any one. Valiantly he held up the battle, and\nwith him Oliver, and Turpin the Archbishop, and others also; but the\nlines of the men of France were broken, and their armor thrust through\nand their spears shivered, and their flags trodden in the dust. For all\nthis they made such slaughter among the heathen that King Almaris, who\nled the armies of the enemy, scarcely could win back his way to his own\npeople, wounded in four places and sorely spent. A right good warrior\nwas he; had he but been a Christian, but few had matched 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 she\nis of so many valiant champions. But why is our King not here? O Oliver,\nmy brother, what shall we do to send him tidings of our state?\" \"I know\nnot,\" answered Oliver. \"Only this I know--that death is to be chosen\nrather 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 your\nrace. When I gave you this counsel you would have none of it. Now I like\nit not. 'Tis not for a brave man to sound the horn and cry for help now\nthat we are in such case.\"\n\n[Illustration: ROLAND'S OWN DEATH WAS VERY NEAR]\n\n[Illustration: THE YOUTHFUL CID AVENGING THE DEATH OF HIS FATHER]\n\n\"The battle is too hard for us,\" said Roland again, \"and I shall sound\nmy 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, we\nhad not suffered this loss. But the blame is not his. 'Tis your folly,\nCount Roland, that has done to death all these men of France. But for\nthat we should have conquered in this battle, and have taken and slain\nKing Marsilas. But now we can do nothing for France and the King. We can\nbut die. Woe is me for our country, aye, and for our friendship, which\nwill 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 place,\nare of a truth condemned to death, neither will the sounding of your\nhorn 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 gave\nso mighty a blast upon it, that the sound was heard thirty leagues away.\nKing Charles and his men heard it, and the King said, \"Our countrymen\nare fighting with the enemy.\" But Ganelon answered, \"Sire, had any but\nyou so spoken, I had said that he spoke falsely.\"\n\nThen Roland blew his horn a second time; with great pain and anguish of\nbody he blew it, and the red blood gushed from his lips; but the sound\nwas heard yet farther than at first. Again the King heard it, and all\nhis nobles, and all his men. \"That,\" said he, \"is Roland's horn; he\nnever had sounded it were he not in battle with the enemy.\" But Ganelon\nanswered again: \"Believe me, Sire, there is no battle. You are an old\nman, and you have the fancies of a child. You know what a mighty man of\nvalor is this Roland. Think you that any one would dare to attack him?\nNo one, of a truth. Ride on, Sire; why halt you here? The fair land of\nFrance 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 out,\n\"Roland is in trouble; on my conscience he is fighting with the enemy.\nSome one has betrayed him; 'tis he, I doubt not, that would deceive you\nnow. To arms, Sire! utter your war-cry, and help your own house and your\ncountry. You have heard the cry of the noble Roland.\"\n\nThen King Charles bade all the trumpets sound, and forthwith all the men\nof France armed themselves, with helmets, and hauberks, and swords with\npommels of gold. Mighty were their shields, and their lances strong, and\nthe flags that they carried were white and red and blue. And when they\nmade an end of their arming they rode back with all haste. There was not\none of them but said to his comrade, \"If we find Roland yet alive, what\nmighty 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 fare\namong them. They pulled out his hair and his beard and smote him with\ntheir staves; then they put a great chain, such as that with which a\nbear is bound, about his neck, and made him fast to a pack-horse.\n\nThis done, the King and his army hastened with all speed to the help of\nRoland. 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 for\nall their speed.\n\nCount Roland looked round on the mountain-sides and on the plains. Alas!\nhow 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 smite\nthese 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 before\nRoland. \"By my faith,\" cried the Archbishop when he saw him, \"that is a\nright good knight! Such courage, and such a steed, and such arms I love\nwell to see. If a man be not brave and a stout fighter, he had better by\nfar be a monk in some cloister where he may pray all day long for our\nsins.\"\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 through\nhim. \"That is a shrewd blow,\" he cried; \"I have avenged my friends and\ncountrymen 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 wife\nnor any woman in the land of your birth shall boast that you have taken\na penny's worth from King Charles!\" But to Roland he cried, \"Come,\ncomrade, help me; well I know that we two shall part in great sorrow\nthis day.\"\n\nRoland came with all speed, and saw his friend, how he lay all pale and\nfainting on the ground and how the blood gushed in great streams from\nhis wound. \"I know not what to do,\" he cried. \"This is an ill chance\nthat has befallen you. Truly France is bereaved of her bravest son.\" So\nsaying he went near to swoon in the saddle as he sat. Then there befell\na strange thing. Oliver had lost so much of his blood that he could not\nany more see clearly or know who it was that was near him. So he raised\nup his arm and smote with all his strength that yet remained to him on\nthe helmet of Roland his friend. The helmet he cleft in twain to the\nvisor; but by good fortune it wounded not the head.\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 I\nforgive you.\" And this was the way these two friends parted at the last.\n\nAnd now Oliver felt the pains of death come over him. He could no longer\nsee nor hear. Therefore he turned his thoughts to making his peace with\nGod, and clasping his hands lifted them to heaven and made his\nconfession. \"O Lord,\" he said, \"take me into Paradise. And do Thou bless\nKing Charles and the sweet land of France.\" And when he had said thus\nhe died. And Roland looked at him as he lay. There was not upon earth a\nmore sorrowful man than he. \"Dear comrade,\" he said, \"this is indeed an\nevil day. Many a year have we two been together. Never have I done wrong\nto you; never have you done wrong to me. How shall I bear to live\nwithout you?\" And he swooned where he sat on his horse. But the stirrup\nheld 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 but\nthat 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 am\nnot unworthy to be your friend. Help me therefore. For see how my spear\nis broken and my shield cleft in twain. My hauberk is in pieces, and my\nbody sorely wounded. I am about to die; but I have sold my life at a\ngreat price.\"\n\nWhen Roland heard him cry he set spurs to his horse and galloped to him.\n\"Walter,\" said he, \"you are a brave warrior and a trustworthy. Tell me\nnow where are the thousand valiant men whom you took from my army. They\nwere 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 of\nCanaan there and the men of Armenia and the Giants; there were no better\nmen in their army than these. We dealt with them so that they will not\nboast themselves of this day's work. But it cost us dear; all the men of\nFrance lie dead on the plain, and I am wounded to the death. And now,\nRoland, blame me not that I fled; for you are my lord, and all my trust\nis 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 into\nstrips and bound up Walter's wounds therewith. This done he and Walter\nand the Archbishop set fiercely on the enemy. Five-and-twenty did Roland\nslay, and Walter slew six, and the Archbishop five. Three valiant men of\nwar they were; fast and firm they stood one by the other; hundreds there\nwere of the heathen, but they dared not come near to these three valiant\nchampions of France. They stood far off, and cast at the three spears\nand darts and javelins and weapons of every kind. Walter of Hum was\nslain forthwith; and the Archbishop's armor was broken, and he wounded,\nand his horse slain under him. Nevertheless he lifted himself from the\nground, still keeping a good heart in his breast. \"They have not\novercome me yet,\" said he; \"as long as a good soldier lives, he does not\nyield.\"\n\nRoland took his horn once more and sounded it, for he would know whether\nKing Charles were coming. Ah me! it was a feeble blast that he blew. But\nthe King heard it, and he halted and listened. \"My lords!\" said he,\n\"things go ill for us, I doubt not. Today we shall lose, I fear me much,\nmy brave nephew Roland. I know by the sound of his horn that he has but\na short time to live. Put your horses to their full speed, if you would\ncome in time to help him, and let a blast be sounded by every trumpet\nthat there is in the army.\" So all the trumpets in the host sounded a\nblast; all the valleys and hills re-echoed with the sound; sore\ndiscouraged were the heathen when they heard it.\n\n\"King Charles has come again,\" they cried; \"we are all as dead men. When\nhe comes he shall not find Roland alive.\" Then four hundred of them, the\nstrongest and most valiant knights that were in the army of the\nheathen, gathered themselves into one company, and made a yet fiercer\nassault on Roland.\n\nRoland saw them coming, and waited for them without fear. So long as he\nlived he would not yield himself to the enemy or give place to them.\n\"Better death than flight,\" said he, as he mounted his good steed\nVeillantif, and rode towards the enemy. And by his side went Turpin the\nArchbishop on foot. Then said Roland to Turpin, \"I am on horseback and\nyou are on foot. But let us keep together; never will I leave you; we\ntwo will stand against these heathen dogs. They have not, I warrant,\namong 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 and\nhurled at them spears and darts and javelins without number. Roland's\nshield they broke and his hauberk; but him they hurt not; nevertheless\nthey did him a grievous injury, for they killed his good steed\nVeillantif. Thirty wounds did Veillantif receive, and he fell dead under\nhis master. At last the Archbishop was stricken and Roland stood alone,\nfor 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 you\nmay! 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 to\nthe 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 give\nyou all good things!\"\n\nNow Roland felt that his own death was near at hand. In one hand he took\nhis horn, and in the other his good sword Durendal, and made his way the\ndistance of a furlong or so till he came to a plain, and in the midst of\nthe plain a little hill. On the top of the hill in the shade of two fair\ntrees were four marble steps. There Roland fell in a swoon upon the\ngrass. There a certain Saracen spied him. The fellow had feigned death,\nand had laid himself down among the slain, having covered his body and\nhis face with blood. When he saw Roland, he raised himself from where he\nwas lying among the slain and ran to the place, and, being full of pride\nand fury, seized the Count in his arms, crying aloud, \"He is conquered,\nhe is conquered, he is conquered, the famous nephew of King Charles!\nSee, here is his sword; 'tis a noble spoil that I shall carry back with\nme to Arabia.\" Thereupon he took the sword in one hand, with the other\nhe laid hold of Roland's beard.\n\nBut as the man laid hold, Roland came to himself, and knew that some one\nwas taking his sword from him. He opened his eyes but not a word did he\nspeak save this only, \"Fellow, you are none of ours,\" and he smote him a\nmighty blow upon his helmet. The steel he brake through and the head\nbeneath, and laid the man dead at his feet. \"Coward,\" he said, \"what\nmade you so bold that you dared lay hands on Roland? Whosoever knows him\nwill think you a fool for your deed.\"\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 rang\nthe steel upon the stone; but it neither brake nor splintered. \"Help\nme,\" he cried, \"O Mary, our Lady! O my good sword, my Durendal, what an\nevil lot is mine! In the day when I must part with you, my power over\nyou is lost. Many a battle I have won with your help; and many a kingdom\nhave I conquered, that my lord Charles possesses this day. Never has any\none possessed you that would fly before another. So long as I live, you\nshall not be taken from me, so long have you been in the hands of a\nloyal 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 of\nthe day when a voice that seemed to come from heaven bade King Charles\ngive thee to a valiant captain; and forthwith the good King girded it on\nmy side. Many a land have I conquered with thee for him, and now how\ngreat is my grief! Can I die and leave thee to be handled by some\nheathen?\" And the third time he smote a rock with it. Loud rang the\nsteel, but it brake not, bounding back as though it would rise to the\nsky. And when Count Roland saw that he could not break the sword, he\nspake again but with more content in his heart. \"O Durendal,\" he said,\n\"a fair sword art thou, and holy as fair. There are holy relics in thy\nhilt, relics of St. Peter and St. Denis and St. Basil. These heathen\nshall never possess thee; nor shalt thou be held but by a Christian\nhand.\"\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 did\nso? To show, forsooth, to Charlemagne and the men of France that he\ndied in the midst of victory. This done, he made a loud confession of\nhis sins, stretching his hand to heaven, \"Forgive me, Lord,\" he cried,\n\"my sins, little and great, all that I have committed since the day of\nmy birth to this hour in which I am stricken to death.\" So he prayed;\nand, as he lay, he thought of many things, of the countries which he had\nconquered, and of his dear fatherland France, and of his kinsfolk, and\nof the good King Charles. Nor, as he thought, could he keep himself from\nsighs and tears; yet one thing he remembered beyond all others--to pray\nfor forgiveness of his sins. \"O Lord,\" he said, \"who art the God of\ntruth, and didst save Daniel Thy prophet from the lions, do Thou save my\nsoul and defend it against all perils!\" So speaking he raised his right\nhand, with the gauntlet yet upon it, to the sky, and his head fell back\nupon his arm and the angels carried him to heaven. So died the great\nCount Roland.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CID\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 Burgos\nin the eleventh century and won the name of \"Cid,\" which means\n\"Conqueror,\" by defeating five Moorish kings. This happened after Spain\nhad been in the hands of the Arabs for more than three hundred years, so\nit is small wonder that the Spaniards looked upon their hero as a very\nremarkable 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 bear\narms. When he finally told his son of the wrong, Rodrigo sought out Don\nGomez and challenged him to fight. So bravely and skilfully did Rodrigo\nmanage his weapons that he slew his father's enemy. Then he cut off the\nhead and carried it to Diego.\n\nSoon after this Diego bade his son do homage at King Ferdinand's court.\nRodrigo appeared before the king, but his bearing was so defiant that\nFerdinand 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 and\nto refrain from further warfare. It was these kings who first called him\n\"Cid.\"\n\nIn return for his brave service Rodrigo was restored to favor and given\nplace 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 she\ncame she heard greater praise of the young hero. At last she decided to\nalter her demand. A fourth time she returned, consenting to forego all\nthoughts of vengeance if the king would order the young hero to marry\nher. The Cid was very willing, for he had learned to love the girl,\nadmiring 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 be\nworthy of his wife until he had won five battles, after a pious\npilgrimage to the shrine of the patron saint, hastened off to Calahorra,\na frontier town claimed by two kings--the kings of Castile and Oregon.\n\nIt had been decided that the dispute over the town should be settled by\ncombat. Rodrigo became the champion of Ferdinand of Castile. The other\nchampion, Martin Gonzalez, began, as soon as the combat opened, to taunt\nthe Cid.\n\n\"Never again will you mount your favorite steed Babieca,\" 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 praise\nthen was given to the Cid--so great that the knights of Castile were\njealous and plotted to kill him. But the Moorish kings whom he had\ncaptured 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 then\nRodrigo returned to his beloved wife.\n\nBut not for long was he permitted to remain in the quiet of home. Henry\nIII, Emperor of Germany, complained to the Pope that King Ferdinand had\nrefused to acknowledge his superiority. The Pope sent a message to\nFerdinand, demanding homage and tribute. The demand angered both\nFerdinand and the Cid.\n\n\"Never yet have we done homage,\" cried the Cid, \"and shall we now bow to\na stranger?\"\n\nA proud refusal was then sent to the Pope, and he, knowing of no better\nway to settle the dispute, bade Henry send a champion to meet Rodrigo.\nThe emperor's champion was, of course, defeated, and all of Ferdinand's\nenemies were so awed by the outcome of the fight that none ever again\ndemanded homage or tribute. Rodrigo was, indeed, a very useful subject.\nWhen Ferdinand died, he was succeeded by his son, Don Sancho. The\nlatter, planning a visit to Rome, selected the Cid to accompany him.\nArriving, they found that in the preparations that had been made for\ntheir reception a lower seat had been prepared for Don Sancho than for\nthe King of France. The Cid would not suffer such a slight, and became\nso violent that the Pope excommunicated him. Nevertheless, the seats\nwere made of equal height, and the Cid, who was a good Catholic, humbled\nhimself before the Pope and was forgiven.\n\nIt was an age of great wars, and the Cid aided his king in many a brave\nfight. At last, in the siege of Zamora, the king was treacherously\nmurdered, and, as he had no sons, Don Alfonso, his brother, succeeded.\nWhen he arrived at Zamora the Cid refused to acknowledge Alfonso until\nhe should swear that he had no part in the murder. The king, angered by\nthe Cid's attitude, plotted revenge. Opportunity came during a war with\nthe Moors, and the Cid was banished upon a slight pretext.\n\n\"I obey, O king,\" replied the Cid, when he heard the decree. \"I am more\nready to serve you than you are to reward me. I pray that you may never\nmore in battle need the right arm and sword that so often served your\nfather.\"\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 city\nwith food, declaring that he cared \"not a fig\" for Alfonso's commands.\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 Christians,\nthough usually very wealthy. The men, thinking that the boxes contained\nvast treasures, when in reality they were filled with sand, advanced the\nCid 600 marks of gold. Then the hero bade farewell to his wife and\nchildren and rode away, vowing that he would return, covered with glory\nand 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 join\nRodrigo 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 courage\nand captured Valencia. But the Cid, hearing of the disaster, promptly\nreturned, recaptured the city, and sent a message to Alfonso asking for\nhis wife and daughters. At the same time he sent more than the promised\nsum of money to the Jews, who up to this time had not learned that the\ncoffers were filled with sand. To the messenger he said:\n\n\"Tell them, that although they can find nothing in the coffers but sand,\nthey will find that the pure gold of my truth lies beneath the sand.\"\n\nAs the Cid was now master of Valencia, and of vast wealth, his daughters\nwere sought in marriage by many suitors, and the marriage of both girls\nwas celebrated with great splendor. But the Counts of Carrion, their\nhusbands, were not brave men like the Cid, and after lingering at\nValencia in idleness for two years, their weakness was clearly 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 sword,\ncaught the lion by the mane, led it back to its cage, and calmly\nreturned 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 gifts.\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\nMunoz, a loyal follower of the Cid's, riding back, found the two wives,\nbound up their wounds and obtained shelter for them in the house of a\npoor man whose wife and daughters promised to nurse them. Then he rode\non to tell the Cid. The Cid swore that he would be avenged, and as\nAlfonso was responsible for the marriage, he applied to 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 returned\nin triumph to Valencia. Here his daughters' second marriage took 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 over\nhis enemy. He accordingly made preparations for his death, and after\nappointing a successor, he gave instructions that none should weep over\nhis death, and that his body when embalmed should be set upon his horse,\nBabieca, and that, with his sword Tizona in his hand, he should be led\non a certain day against the enemy.\n\nThe hero died and his successor together with his wife Ximena strove to\ncarry out his instructions. A battle was planned, and the Cid, strapped\nupon his war horse, rode in the van. The Moors, filled with terror, fled\nbefore him.\n\nAfter the victory the body was placed in the Church of San Pedro de\nCardena, where for ten years it remained seated, in plain view of all.","title":"Famous Tales of Fact and Fancy: Myths and Legends of the Nations of the World Retold for Boys and Girls","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":82950}