{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_3327/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_3327","id":"gutenberg_3327","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3327","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Folklore -- Europe","Mythology","Mythology, Classical","Paganism"],"text":"Produced by an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                       BULFINCH'S MYTHOLOGY\n                         THE AGE OF FABLE\n\n\n                    Revised by Rev. E. E. Hale\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\nChapter I\n\nOrigin of Greeks and Romans.  The Aryan Family.  The Divinities\nof these Nations.  Character of the Romans.  Greek notion of\nthe World.  Dawn, Sun, and Moon.  Jupiter and the gods of\nOlympus.  Foreign gods.   Latin Names.-- Saturn or Kronos.\nTitans.  Juno, Vulcan, Mars, Phoebus-Apollo, Venus, Cupid,\nMinerva, Mercury, Ceres, Bacchus.  The Muses.  The Graces.\nThe Fates.  The Furies.  Pan.   The Satyrs.  Momus.  Plutus.\n  Roman gods.\n\nChapter II\n\nRoman Idea of Creation.  Golden Age.  Milky Way.  Parnassus.\nThe Deluge.  Deucalion and Pyrrha.  Pandora.  Prometheus.\nApollo and Daphne.  Pyramus and Thisbe.  Davy's Safety Lamp.\nCephalus and Procris\n\nChapter III\n\nJuno.  Syrinx, or Pandean Pipes.  Argus's Eyes.  Io.\nCallisto   Constellations of Great and Little Bear.  Pole-star.\n  Diana.  Actaeon.  Latona.  Rustics turned to Frogs.  Isle\nof Delos.  Phaeton.  Palace of the Sun.  Phoebus.  Day.\nMonth.  Year.  Hours.  Seasons.  Chariot of the sun.  People\nof Aethiopia.  Libyan Desert.  The Wells Dry.  The Sea\nShrinks.  Phaeton's Tomb.  The Heliades\n\nChapter IV\n\nSilenus.  Midas.  Bacchus's Reward to Midas.  River Pactolus.\n  Pan Challenges Apollo.  Midas's Ears.  Gordian Knot.  Baucis\nand Philemon.  Aetna.  Perpetual Spring.  Pluto carries off\nProsperine.  Cere's Search.  Prosperine's Release.  Eleusinian\nMysteries.  Glaucis changed to a Fish.  Scylla\n\nChapter V\n\nPygmalion's Statue.  Dryope and Iole.  Lotus Tree.  Venus and\nAdonis.  Anemone or Wind Flower.  Apollo and Hyacinthus.  Game\nof Quoits.  Flower Hyacinthus.  Ceyx and Halcyone.  Palace of\nthe King of Sleep.  Morpheus.  Halcyon Birds.\n\nChapter VI\n\nHamadryads.  Pomona.  Vertumnus.  Iphis.  Cupid and Psyche.\nZephyr.  Temple of Ceres.  Temple of Venus.  The Ant.  Golden\nFleece.  Pluto.  Cerberus.  Charon.  The Treasure.  Stygian\nSleep.  Cup of Ambrosia.  Birth of Pleasure.  Greek name of\nPsyche.\n\nChapter VII\n\nCadmus.  Origin of City of Thebes.  Tyrians.  Serpent.\nDragon's Teeth.  Harmonia.  Serpent Sacred to Mars.  Myrmidons.\n  Cephalus.  Aeacus.  Pestilence Sent by June.  Origin of\nMyrmidons.\n\nChapter VIII\n\nMinos, King of Crete.  Nisus, his purple hair.  Scylla's\nBetrayal.  Her Punishment.  Echo.  Juno's Sentence.\nNarcissus.  Love for his own image.  Clytie.  Hopeless Love\nfor Apollo.  Becomes a Flower.  Hero and Leander.  Hellespont\n\nChapter IX\n\nGoddess of Wisdom.  Arachne.  Her Challenge with Minerva.\nMinerva's Web.  Arachne's Web.  Transformation.  Niobe Queen\nof Thebes.  Mount Cynthus.  Death of Niobe's Children.  Changed\nto stone.  The Gray-haired Sisters.  The Gorgon Medusa.  Tower\nof brass.  Danae.  Perseus.  Net of Dicte.  Minerva.  King\nAtlas.  Andromeda.  Sea Monster.  Wedding Feast.  Enemies\nTurned to Stone.\n\nChapter X\n\nAttributes of Monsters.  Laius.  Oedipus.  The Oracle.\nSphinx.  The Riddle.  Oedipus made King.  Jocasta.  Origin of\nPegasus.  Fountain of Hippocrene.  The Chimaera.\nBellerophontic Letters.  The Centaurs.  The Pygmies.\nDescription of the Griffin.  The Native Country.  One-Eyed\nPeople\n\nChapter XI\n\nThe Ram with the Golden Fleece.  The Hellespont.  Jason's\nQuest.  Sowing the Dragon's Teeth.  Jason's Father.\nIncantations of Medea.  Ancient Name of Greece.  Great\nGatherings of the Greeks.  Wild Boar.  Atalanta's Race.  Three\nGolden Apples.  Lovers' Ingratitude.  Venus's Revenge.\nCorybantes\n\nChapter XII\n\nLabors of Hercules.-- Fight with Nemean Lion.-- Slaughter of the\nHydra.  Cleaning the Augean Stables.-- Girdle of the Queen of the\nAmazons.-- Oxen of Geryon.-- Golden Apples of Hesperides.--\nVictory over Antaeus.-- Cacus Slain.-- Hercules, Descent into\nHades.-- He Becomes the Slave of Omphale.-- Dejanira's Charm.--\nDeath of Hercules.-- Hebe, Goddess of Youth\n\nChapter XIII\n\nTheseus Moves the Fated Stone, and Proceeds to Athens.--\nProcrustes's Bedstead.-- Tribute to Minos.-- Ariadne.-- Clew of\nThread.-- Encounter with the Minotaur.-- Theseus Becomes King of\nAthens.-- Friendship of Theseus and Pirithous.  The Theseum.--\nFestival of Panathenaea.-- Elgin Marbles.-- National Greek\nGames.-- The Labyrinth.-- Daedalus' Wings.-- Invention of the\nSaw.-- Castor and Pollux.-- Argonautic Expedition.-- Orpheus's\nHarp.-- Gemini\n\nChapter XIV\n\nDestruction of Semele.-- Infancy of Bacchus.-- March of Bacchus.-\n- One of the Bacchanals taken Prisoner.-- Pentheus.-- Worship of\nBacchus Established in Greece.-- Ariadne.-- Bacchus's Marriage.--\nAriadne's Crown\n\nChapter XV\n\nPan.-- Shepherd's Pipe.-- Panic Terror.-- Signification of the\nName Pan.-- Latin Divinities.-- Wood Nymphs.-- Water Nymphs.--\nSea Nymphs.  Pleasing Traits of Old Paganism.-- Mrs. Browning's\nPoem.-- Violation of Cere's Grove.-- Erisichthon's Punishment.--\nRhoecus.-- Water Deities.-- Neptune's Symbol of Power.-- Latin\nName for the Muses, and other Deities.-- Personification of the\nWinds.  The Harpies.-- Worship of Fortuna\n\nChapter XVI\n\nTransformation of Achelous.-- Origin of the Cornucopia.-- Ancient\nMeaning of fight of Achelous with Hercules.-- Aesculapius.-- The\nCyclops.  Antigone.-- Expedition of the \"Seven against Thebes.\"-\n- Antigone's Sisterly Devotion.-- Antigone's Burial.-- Penelope.-\n- Statue to Modesty.-- Ulysses.-- Penelope's suitors.--\nPenelope's Web\n\nChapter XVII\n\nOrpheus's Lyre.-- Unhappy Prognostics at Orpheus's Marriage.--\nEurydice's Death.-- Orpheus Descends to the Stygian Realm.--\nOrpheus Loses Eurydice Forever.-- Thracian Maidens.-- Honey.--\nAristaeus's Loss and Complaint.-- Cyrene's Apartments.-- Proteus\nCaptured.-- His Directions to Orpheus.-- Swarm of Bees.--\nCelebrated Mythical Poets and Musicians.-- First Mortal Endowed\nwith Prophetic Powers\n\nChapter XVIII\n\nAdventures of Real Persons.-- Arion, Famous Musician.--\nDescription of Ancient Theatres.-- Murder of Ibycus.-- Chorus\nPersonating the Furies.-- Cranes of Ibycus.-- The Murderers\nSeized.-- Simonides.-- Scopa's Jest.  Simonides's Escape.--\nSappho.-- \"Lover's Leap\"\n\nChapter XIX\n\nEndymion.-- Mount Latmos. Gift of Perpetual Youth and Perpetual\nSleep.-- Orion.-- Kedalion.-- Orion's Girdle.-- The Fatal Shot\nThe Pleiads.-- Aurora.-- Memnon.-- statue of Memnon.-- Scylla.--\nAcis and Galatea.-- River Acis\n\nChapter XX\n\nMinerva's Competition.-- Paris's Decision.-- Helen.-- Paris's\nElopement.-- Ulysses's Pretence.-- The Apple of Discord.-- Priam,\nKing of Troy.-- Commander of Grecian Armament.-- Principal\nLeaders of the Trojans.-- Agamemnon Kills the Sacred Stag.--\nIphigenia.-- The Trojan War.-- The Iliad.-- Interest of Dods and\nGoddesses in the War.-- Achilles's Suit of Armor.-- Death of\nHector.-- Ransom Sent to Achilles.-- Achilles Grants Priam's\nRequest.-- Hector's Funeral Solemnities.\n\nChapter XXI\n\nAchilles Captivated by Polyxena.-- Achilles' Claim.-- Bestowal of\nAchilles' Armor.-- The Hyacinth.-- Arrows of Hercules.-- Death of\nParis.-- Celebrated Statue of Minerva.-- Wooden Horse.-- Greeks\nPretend to Abandon the Siege.-- Sea Serpents.-- Laocoon.-- Troy\nsubdued.-- Helen and Menelaus.-- Nepenthe.-- Agamemnon's\nMisfortunes.-- Orestes.-- Electra.-- Site of the City of Troy\n\nChapter XXII\n\nThe Odyssey.-- The Wanderings of Ulysses.-- Country of the\nCyclops.-- The Island of Aeolus.-- The Barbarous Tribe of\nLaestrygonians.-- Circe.-- The Sirens.-- Scylla and Charybdis.--\nCattle of Hyperion.-- Ulysses's Raft.-- Calypso Entertains\nUlysses.-- Telemachus and Mentor Escape from Calypso's Isle\n\nChapter XXIII\n\nUlysses Abandons the Raft.-- The Country of the Phaeacians.--\nNausicaa's Dream.-- A Game of Ball.-- Ulysses's Dilemma.--\nNausicaa's Courage.-- The Palace of Alcinous.-- Skill of the\nPhaeacian Women.-- Hospitality to Ulysses.-- Demodocus, the Blind\nBard.-- Gifts to Ulysses\n\nChapter XXV\n\nVirgil's Description of the Region of the Dead.-- Descend into\nHades.-- The Black River and Ferryman.-- Cape Palinurus.-- The\nThree-Headed Dog.-- Regions of Sadness.-- Shades of Grecian and\nTrojan Warriors.-- Judgment Hall of Rhadamanthus.-- The Elysian\nFields.-- Aeneas Meets His Father.-- Anchises Explains the Plan\nof Creation.-- Transmigration of Souls.-- Egyptian Name of\nHades.-- Location of Elysium.-- Prophetic Power of the Sibyl.--\nLegend of the Nine Books\n\n\n\n\nStories of Gods and Heroes.\n\n\n\nChapter I\n\nIntroduction\n\nThe literature of our time, as of all the centuries of\nChristendom, is full of allusions to the gods and goddesses of\nthe Greeks and Romans.  Occasionally, and, in modern days, more\noften, it contains allusions to the worship and the superstitions\nof the northern nations of Europe.  The object of this book is to\nteach readers who are not yet familiar with the writers of Greece\nand Rome, or the ballads or legends of the Scandinavians, enough\nof the stories which form what is called their mythology, to make\nthose allusions intelligible which one meets every day, even in\nthe authors of our own time.\n\nThe Greeks and Romans both belong to the same race or stock.  It\nis generally known in our time as the Aryan family of mankind;\nand so far as we know its history, the Greeks and Romans\ndescended from the tribes which emigrated from the high table-\nlands of Northern India.  Other tribes emigrated in different\ndirections from the same centre, so that traces of the Aryan\nlanguage are found in the islands of the Pacific ocean.\n\nThe people of this race, who moved westward, seem to have had a\nspecial fondness for open air nature, and a willingness to\npersonify the powers of nature.  They were glad to live in the\nopen air, and they specially encouraged the virtues which an\nopen-air people prize.  Thus no Roman was thought manly who could\nnot swim, and every Greek exercised in the athletic sports of the\npalaestra.\n\nThe Romans and Grecian and German divisions of this great race\nare those with which we have most to do in history and in\nliterature.  Our own English language is made up of the dialects\nof different tribes, many of whom agreed in their use of words\nwhich they had derived from our Aryan ancestry.  Thus our\nsubstantive verb I AM appears in the original Sanscrit of the\nAryans as ESMI, and m for ME (MOI), or the first person singular,\nis found in all the verbal inflections.  The Greek form of the\nsame verb was ESMI, which became ASMI,   and in Latin the first\nand last vowels have disappeared, the verb is SUM.  Similar\nrelationships are traced in the numerals, and throughout all the\nlanguages of these nations.\n\nThe Romans, like the Etruscans who came before them, were neither\npoetical nor imaginative in temperament.  Their activity ran in\npractical directions.  They therefore invented few, if any\nstories, of the gods whom they worshipped with fixed rites.  Mr.\nMacaulay speaks of these gods as \"the sober abstractions of the\nRoman pantheon.\"  We owe most of the stories of the ancient\nmythology to the wit and fancy of the Greeks,   more playful and\nimaginative,   who seized from Egypt and from the East such\nlegends as pleased them,   and adapted them in their own way.  It\noften happens that such stories, resembling each other in their\nfoundation, are found in the Greek and Roman authors in several\ndifferent forms.\n\nTo understand these stories, we will here first acquaint\nourselves with the ideas of the structure of the universe, which\nthe poets and others held, and which will form the scenery, so to\nspeak, of the narratives.\n\nThe Greek poets believed the earth to be flat and circular, their\nown country occupying the middle of it, the central point being\neither Mount Olympus, the abode of the gods, or Delphi, so famous\nfor its oracle.\n\nThe circular disk of the earth was crossed from west to east, and\ndivided into two equal parts by the SEA, as they called the\nMediterranean, and its continuation the Euxine.\n\nAround the earth flowed the RIVER OCEAN, its course being from\nsouth to north on the western side of the earth, and in a\ncontrary direction on the eastern side.  It flowed in a steady,\nequable current, unvexed by storm or tempest.  The sea, and all\nthe rivers on earth, received their waters from it.\n\nThe northern portion of the earth was supposed to be inhabited by\na happy race named the Hyperboreans [this word means \"who live\nbeyond the north\" from the word \"hyper,\" beyond, and boreas, the\nnorth wind], dwelling in everlasting bliss and spring beyond the\nlofty mountains whose caverns were supposed to send forth the\npiercing blasts of the north wind, which chilled the people of\nHellas (Greece).  Their country was inaccessible by land or sea.\nThey lived exempt from disease or old age, from toils and\nwarfare.  Moore has given us the \"Song of a Hyperborean,\"\nbeginning\n\n  \"I come from a land in the sun-bright deep,\n  Where golden gardens glow,\n  Where the winds of the north, becalmed in sleep,\n  Their conch-shells never blow.\"\n\nOn the south side of the earth, close to the stream of Ocean,\ndwelt a people happy and virtuous as the Hyperboreans.  They were\nnamed the AEthiopians.  The gods favored them so highly that they\nwere wont to leave at times their Olympian abodes, and go to\nshare their sacrifices and banquets.\n\nOn the western margin of the earth, by the stream of Ocean, lay a\nhappy place named the Elysian Plain, whither mortals favored by\nthe gods were transported without tasting of death, to enjoy an\nimmortality of bliss.  This happy region was also called the\n\"fortunate fields,\" and the \"Isles of the Blessed.\"\n\nWe thus see that the Greeks of the early ages knew little of any\nreal people except those to the east and south of their own\ncountry, or near the coast of the Mediterranean.  Their\nimagination meantime peopled the western portion of this sea with\ngiants, monsters, and enchantresses; while they placed around the\ndisk of the earth, which they probably regarded as of no great\nwidth, nations enjoying the peculiar favor of the gods, and\nblessed with happiness and longevity.\n\nThe Dawn, the Sun, and the Moon were supposed to rise out of the\nOcean, on the western side, and to drive through the air, giving\nlight to gods and men.  The stars also, except those forming\nCharles' Wain or Bear, and others near them, rose out of and sank\ninto the stream of Ocean.  There the sun-god embarked in a winged\nboat, which conveyed him round by the northern part of the earth,\nback to his place of rising in the east.  Milton alludes to this\nin his \"Commmus.\"\n\n  \"Now the gilded car of day\n  His golden axle doth allay\n  In the steep Atlantic stream,\n  And the slope sun his upward beam\n  Shoots against the dusky pole,\n  Pacing towards the other goal\n  Of his chamber in the east.\"\n\nThe abode of the gods was on the summit of Mount Olympus, in\nThessaly.  A gate of clouds, kept by the goddesses named the\nSeasons, opened to permit the passage of the Celestials to earth,\nand to receive them on their return.  The gods had their separate\ndwellings; but all, when summoned, repaired to the palace of\nJupiter [Or Zeus.  The relation of these names to each other will\nbe explained on the next page], as did also those deities whose\nusual abode was the earth, the waters, or the underworld.  It was\nalso in the great hall of the palace of the Olympian king that\nthe gods feasted each day on ambrosia and nectar, their food and\ndrink, the latter being handed round by the lovely goddess Hebe.\nHere they conversed of the affairs of heaven and earth; and as\nthey quaffed their nectar, Apollo, the god of music, delighted\nthem with the tones of his lyre, to which the muses sang in\nresponsive strains.  When the sun was set, the gods retired to\nsleep in their respective dwellings.\n\nThe following lines from the Odyssey will show how Homer\nconceived of Olympus:--\n\n  \"So saying, Minerva, goddess azure-eyed,\n  Rose to Olympus, the reputed seat\n  Eternal of the gods, which never storms\n  Disturb, rains drench, or snow invades, but calm\n The expanse and cloudless shines with purest day.\n  T here the inhabitants divine rejoice\n  Forever.:\" Cowper\n\nSuch were the abodes of the gods as the Greeks conceived them.\nThe Romans, before they knew the Greek poetry, seem to have had\nno definite imagination of such an assembly of gods.  But the\nRoman and Etruscan races were by no means irreligious.  They\nvenerated their departed ancestors,   and in each family the\nworship of these ancestors was an important duty.  The images of\nthe ancestors were kept in a sacred place,   each family\nobserved, at fixed times, memorial rites in their honor,   and\nfor these and other religious observances the family hearth was\nconsecrated.  The earliest rites of Roman worship are supposed to\nbe connected with such family devotions.\n\nAs the Greeks and Romans became acquainted with other nations,\nthey imported their habits of worship, even in early times.  It\nwill be remembered that as late as St. Paul's time, he found an\naltar at Athens \"to an unknown god.\"  Greeks and Romans alike\nwere willing to receive from other nations the legends regarding\ntheir gods, and to incorporate them as well as they could with\ntheir own.  It is thus that in the poetical mythology of those\nnations, which we are now to study, we frequently find a Latin\nand a Greek name for one imagined divinity.  Thus Zeus, of the\nGreeks, becomes in Latin   with the addition of the word pater (a\nfather) [The reader will observe that father is one of the words\nderived from an Ayan root.  Let p and t become rough, as the\ngrammarians say,   let p become ph, and t th, and you have\nphather or father], Jupiter   Kronos of the Greeks appears as\n\"Vulcanus\" of the Latins, \"Ares\" of the Greeks is \"Mars\" or\nMavors of the Latins, \"Poseidon\" of the Greeks is \"Neptunus\" of\nthe Latins, \"Aphrodite\" of the Greeks is \"Venus\" of the Latins.\nThis variation is not to be confounded with a mere translation,\nas where \"Paulos\" of the Greek becomes \"Paulus\" in Latin, or\n\"Odysseus\" becomes \"Ulysses,\"   or as when \"Pierre\" of the French\nbecomes \"Peter\" in English.  What really happened was, that as\nthe Romans, more cultivated than their fathers, found in Greek\nliterature a god of fire and smithery,   they transferred his\nname \"Hephaistos\" to their own old god \"Vulcanus,\"   who had the\nsame duties,   and in their after literature the Latin name was\nused for the stories of Greek and Latin origin.\n\nAs the English literature came into being largely on French and\nLatin models, and as French is but a degraded Latin and retains\nLatin roots largely,   in our older English poets the Latin forms\nof these names are generally used.  In our own generation, with\nthe precision now so much courted, a fashion has come in, of\ndesignating Mars by his Greek name of \"Ares,\" Venus by her name\nof \"Aphrodite,\" and so on.  But in this book, as our object is to\nmake familiar the stores of general English literature which\nrefer to such subjects, we shall retain, in general, the Latin\nnames,   only calling the attention of the reader to the Greek\nnames, as they appear in Greek authors,   and in many writers of\nthe more recent English schools.\n\nThe real monarch of the heavens in the mythology of both Greece\nand Rome is Jupiter (Zeus-pater, father-Jove) [Jove appears to be\na word derived from the same root as Zeus, and it appears in the\nroot dev of the Sanscrit, where devas are gods of different\nforms.  Our English word devil probably comes from the French\ndiable, Italian diavolo, Latin diabolus, one who makes division,-\n- literally one who separates balls, or throws balls about,--\ninstead of throwing them frankly and truly at the batsman.  It is\nnot to be traced to the Sanscrit deva.]\n\nIn the mythological system we are tracing Zeus is himself the\nfather of many of the gods, and he is often spoken of as father\nof gods and men.  He is the father of Vulcan [In Greek\nHephaistos], of Venus [in Greek Aphrodite], of Minerva [in Greek\nPallas Athene, or either name separately], of Apollo [of\nPhoebus], Diana [in Greek Artemis], and of Mercury [in Greek\nHermes], who are ranked among the twelve superior gods, and of\nmany inferior deities.  But Jupiter himself is not the original\ndeity in these systems.  He is the son of Saturnus, as in the\nGreek Zeus is the son of Kronos.  Still the inevitable question\nwould occur where did Saturnus or Kronos come from.  And, in\nforms and statements more and more vague, the answer was that he\nwas born from Uranus or Ouranos, which is the name of the Heaven\nover all which seemed to embrace all things.  The Greek name of\nSaturn was spelled Kronos.  The Greek name of Time was spelled\nChronos.  A similarity between the two was imagined.  And the\nwhole statement, when reduced to rationalistic language, would be\nthat from Uranus, the infinite, was born Chronos, Time,-- that\nfrom Time, Zeus or Jupiter was born, and that he is the only\nchild of Time who has complete sway over mortals and immortals.\n\n  \"The will of Jove I own,\n  Who mortals and immortals rules alone.\"\n  Homer, II.xii\n\nJupiter was son of Saturn (Kronos) [The names included in\nparentheses are the Greek, the others being the Roman or Latin\nnames] and Ops (Rhea in Greek, sometimes confounded with the\nPhrygian Cybele).\n\nSaturn and Rhea were of the race of Titans, who were the children\nof Earth and Heaven, which sprang from Chaos, of which we shall\ngive a further account in our next chapter.\n\nIn allusion to the dethronement of Ouranos by Kronos, and of\nKronos or Saturnus by Zeus or Jupiter, Prometheus says in\nAEschylus's tragedy,--\n\n  \"You may deem\n  Its towers impregnable; but have I not\n  already seen two monarchs hurled from them.\"\n\nThee is another cosmogony, or account of the creation, according\nto which Earth, Erebus, and Love were the first of beings.  Love\n(Eros)_ issued from the egg of Night, which floated on Chaos.  By\nhis arrows and torch he pierced and vivified all things,\nproducing life and joy.\n\nSaturn and Rhea were not the only Titans.  There were others,\nwhose names were Oceanus, Hyperion, Iapetus, and Ophion, males;\nand Themis, Mnemosyne, Eurynome, females.  They are spoken of as\nthe elder gods, whose dominion was afterwards transferred to\nothers.  Saturn yielded to Jupiter, Oceanus to Neptune, Hyperion\nto Apollo.  Hyperion was the father of the Sun, Moon, and Dawn.\nHe is therefore the original sun-god, and is painted with the\nsplendor and beauty which were afterwards bestowed on Apollo.\n\n\"Hyperion's curls, the front of Jove himself.\"   Shakespeare\n\nOphion and Eurynome ruled over Olympus till they were dethroned\nby Saturn and Rhea.  Milton alludes to them in Paradise Lost.  He\nsays the heathen seem to have had some knowledge of the\ntemptation and fall of man,--\n\n  \"And fabled how the serpent, whom they called\n  Ophion, with Eurynome (the wide-\n  Encroaching Eve perhaps), had first the rule\n  Of high Olympus, thence by Saturn driven.\"\n\nThe representations given of Saturn are not very consistent, for\non the one hand his reign is said to have been the golden age of\ninnocence and purity, and on the other he is described as a\nmonster who devoured his own children [This inconsistency arises\nfrom considering the Saturn of the Romans the same with the\nGrecian deity Chronos (Time), which, as it brings an end to all\nthings which have had a beginning, may be said to devour its own\noffspring.] Jupiter, however, escaped this fate, and when grown\nup espoused Metis (Prudence), who administered a draught to\nSaturn which caused him to disgorge his children.  Jupiter, with\nhis brothers and sisters, now rebelled against their father\nSaturn, and his brothers the Titans; vanquished them, and\nimprisoned some of them in Tartarus, inflicting other penalties\non others.  Atlas was condemned to bear up the heavens on his\nshoulders.\n\nOn the dethronement of Saturn, Jupiter with his brothers Neptune\n(Poseidon) and Pluto (Dis) divided his dominions.  Jupiter's\nportion was the heavens, Neptune's the ocean, and Pluto's the\nrealms of the dead.  Earth and Olympus were common property.\nJupiter was king of gods and men.  The thunder was his weapon,\nand he bore a shield called AEgis, made for him by Vulcan.  The\neagle was his favorite bird, and bore his thunderbolts.\n\nJuno (Hera)[pronounce He-re, in two syllables] was the wife of\nJupiter, and queen of the gods.  Iris, the goddess of the\nrainbow, was her attendant and messenger.  The peacock was her\nfavorite bird.\n\nVulcan (Hephaistos), the celestial artist, was the son of Jupiter\nand Juno.  He was born lame, and his mother was so displeased at\nthe sight of him that she flung him out of heaven.  Other\naccounts say that Jupiter kicked him out for taking part with his\nmother, in a quarrel which occurred between them.  Vulcan's\nlameness, according to this account, was the consequence of his\nfall.  He was a whole day falling, and at last alighted in the\nisland of Lemnos, which was thenceforth sacred to him.  Milton\nalludes to this story in Paradise lost, Book I.\n\n  \"From morn\n  To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,\n  A summer's day; and with the setting sun\n  Dropped from the zenith, like a falling star,\n  On Lemnos, the AEgean isle.\"\n\nMars (Ares), the god of war, was the son of Jupiter and Juno.\nPhoebus Apollo [this is a Greek name of a Greek divinity, who\nseems to have had no Roman resemblance], the god of archery,\nprophecy, and music, was the son of Jupiter and Latona, and\nbrother of Diana (Artemis).  He was god of the sun, as Diana, his\nsister, was the goddess of the moon.\n\nVenus (Aphrodite), the goddess of love and beauty, was the\ndaughter of Jupiter and Dione.  Others say that Venus sprang from\nthe foam of the sea.  The zephyr wafted her along the waves to\nthe Isle of Cyprus, where she was received and attired by the\nSeasons, and then led to the assembly of the gods.  All were\ncharmed with her beauty, and each one demanded her for his wife.\nJupiter gave her to Vulcan, in gratitude for the service he had\nrendered in forging thunderbolts.  So the most beautiful of the\ngoddesses became the wife of the most ill-favored of the gods.\nVenus possessed an embroidered girdle called the Cestus, which\nhad the power of inspiring love.  Her favorite birds were swans\nand doves, and the plants sacred to her were the rose and the\nmyrtle.\n\nCupid (Eros), the god of love, was the son of Venus.  He was her\nconstant companion; and, armed with bow and arrows, he shot the\ndarts of desire into the bosoms of both gods and men.  There was\na deity named Anteros, who was sometimes represented as the\navenger of slighted love, and sometimes as the symbol of\nreciprocal affection.  The following legend is told of him:--\n\nVenus, complaining to Themis that her son Eros continued always a\nchild, was told by her that it was because he was solitary, and\nthat if he had a brother he would grow apace.  Anteros was soon\nafterwards born, and Eros immediately was seen to increase\nrapidly in size and strength.\n\nMinerva (Pallas Athene), the goddess of wisdom, was the offspring\nof Jupiter, without a mother.  She sprang from his head,\ncompletely armed.  Her favorite bird was the owl, and the plant\nsacred to her the olive.\n\nByron, in \"Childe Harold,\" alludes to the birth of Minerva thus:--\n\n  \"Can tyrants but by tyrants conquered be,\n  And freedom find no champion and no child,\n  Such as Columbia saw arise, when she\n  Sprang forth a Pallas, armed and undefiled?\n  Or must such minds be nourished in the wild,\n  Deep in the unpruned forest, 'midst the roar\n  Of Cataracts, where nursing Nature smiled\n  On infant Washington?  Has earth no more\n  Such seeds within her breast, or Europe no such shore?\"\n\nMercury (Hermes), was the son of Jupiter and Maia.  He presided\nover commerce, wrestling and other gymnastic exercises; even over\nthieving, and everything, in short, which required skill and\ndexterity.  He was the messenger of Jupiter, and wore a winged\ncap and winged shoes.  He bore in his hand a rod entwined with\ntwo serpents, called the Caduceus.\n\nMercury is said to have invented the lyre.  Four hours after his\nbirth he found the shell of a tortoise, made holes in the\nopposite edges of it, and drew cords of linen through them, and\nthe instrument was complete [From this origin of the instrument,\nthe word \"shell\" is often used as synonymous with :\"lyre,\" and\nfiguratively for music and poetry.  Thus Gray, in his ode on the\n\"Progress of Poesy,\" says,-- \"O Sovereign of the willing soul,\nParent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs, Enchanting shell! The\nsullen Cares And Frantic Passions hear thy soft control.\"] The\ncords were nine, in honor of the nine Muses.  Mercury gave the\nlyre to Apollo, and received from him in exchange the caduceus.\n\nCeres (Demeter) was the daughter of Saturn and Rhea.  She had a\ndaughter named Proserpine (Persephone), who became the wife of\nPluto, and queen of the realms of the dead.  Ceres presided over\nagriculture.\n\nBacchus (Dionysus)_, the god of wine, was the son of Jupiter and\nSemele.  He represents not only the intoxicating power of wine,\nbut its social and beneficent influences likewise; so that he is\nviewed as the promoter of civilization, and a lawgiver and lover\nof peace.\n\nThe muses were the daughters of Jupiter and Mnemosyne (Memory).\nThey presided over song, and prompted the memory.  They were nine\nin number, to each of whom was assigned the presidency over some\nparticular department of literature, art, or science.  Calliope\nwas the muse of epic poetry, Clio of history, Euterpe of lyric\npoetry, Melpomene of tragedy, Terpischore of choral dance and\nsong, Erato of love-poetry, Polyhymnia of sacred poetry, Urania\nof astronomy, Thalia [Pronounced Tha-lei-a, with the emphasis on\nthe second syllable] of comedy.\n\nSpenser described the office of the Graces thus:--\n\n  \"These three on men all gracious gifts bestow\n  Which deck the body or adorn the mind,\n  To make them lovely or well-favored show;\n  As comely carriage, entertainment kind,\n  Sweet semblance, friendly offices that bind,\n  And all the compliments of courtesy;\n  They teach us how to each degree and kind\n  We should ourselves demean, to low, to high.\n  To friends, to foes; which skill men call Civility.\"\n\nThe Fates were also three   Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos.  Their\noffice was to spin the thread of human destiny, and they were\narmed with shears, with which they cut it off when they pleased.\nThey were the daughters of Themis (Law), who sits by Jove on his\nthrone to give him counsel.\n\nThe Erinnyes, or Furies, were three goddesses who punished crimes\nby their secret stings.  The heads of the Furies were wreathed\nwith serpents, and their whole appearance was terrific and\nappalling.  Their names were Alecto, Tisiphone, and Megaera.\nThey were also called Eumenides.\n\nNemesis was also an avenging goddess.  She represents the\nrighteous anger of the gods, particularly towards the proud and\ninsolent.\n\nPan [the name Pan means everything, and he is sometimes spoken of\nas the god of all nature] was the god of flocks and shepherds.\nHis favorite residence, as the Greeks describe him, was in\nArcadia.\n\nThe Satyrs were deities of the woods and fields.  They were\nconceived to be covered with bristly hair, their heads decorated\nwith short, sprouting horns, and their feet like goats' feet.\n\nMomus was the god of laughter, and Plutus the god of wealth.\n\nROMAN DIVINITIES\n\nThe preceding are Grecian divinities, though received also by the\nRomans.  Those which follow are peculiar to Roman mythology.\n\nSaturn was an ancient Italian deity.  The Roman poets tried to\nidentify him with the Grecian god Kronos, and fabled that after\nhis dethronement by Jupiter, he fled to Italy, where he reigned\nduring what was called the Golden Age.  In memory of his\nbeneficent dominion, the feast of Saturnalia was held every year\nin the winter season.  Then all public business was suspended,\ndeclarations of war and criminal executions were postponed,\nfriends made presents to one another, and the slaves were\nindulged with great liberties.  A feast was given them at which\nthey sat at table, while their masters served them, to show the\nnatural equality of men, and that all things belonged equally to\nall, in the reign of Saturn.\n\nFaunus [there was also a goddess called Fauna, or Bona Dea], the\ngrandson of Saturn, was worshipped as the god of fields and\nshepherds, and also as a prophetic god.  His name in the plural,\nFauns, expressed a class of gamesome deities, like the Satyrs of\nthe Greeks.\n\nQuirinus was a war god, said to be no other than Romulus the\nfounder of Rome, exalted after his death to a place among the\ngods.\n\nBellona, a war goddess.\n\nTerminus, the god of landmarks.  His statue was a rude stone or\npost, set in the ground to mark the boundaries of fields.\n\nPales, the goddess presiding over cattle and pastures.\n\nPomona presided over fruit trees.\n\nFlora, the goddess of flowers.\n\nLucina, the goddess of childbirth.\n\nVesta (the Hestia of the Greeks) was a deity presiding over the\npublic and private hearth.  A sacred fire, tended by six virgin\npriestesses called Vestals, flamed in her temple.  As the safety\nof the city was held to be connected with its conservation, the\nneglect of the virgins, if they let it go out, was severely\npunished, and the fire was rekindled from the rays of the sun.\n\nLiber is another Latin name of Bacchus; and Mulciber of Vulcan.\n\nJanus was the porter of heaven.  He opens the year, the first\nmonth being named after him.  He is the guardian deity of gates,\non which account he is commonly represented with two heads,\nbecause every door looks two ways.  His temples at Rome were\nnumerous.  In war time the gates of the principal one were always\nopen.  In peace they were closed; but they were shut only once\nbetween the reign of Numa and that of Augustus.\n\nThe Penates were the gods who were supposed to attend to the\nwelfare and prosperity of the family.  Their name is derived from\nPenus, the pantry, which was sacred to them.  Every master of a\nfamily was the priest to the Penates of his own house.\n\nThe Lares, or Lars, were also household gods, but differed from\nthe Penates in being regarded as the deified spirits of mortals.\nThe family Lars were held to be the souls of the ancestors, who\nwatched over and protected their descendants.  The words Lemur\nand Larva more nearly correspond to our word Ghost.\n\nThe Romans believed that every man had his Genius, and every\nwoman her Juno; that is, a spirit who had given them being, and\nwas regarded as a protector through life.  On birthdays men made\nofferings to their Genius, women to their Juno.\n\nMacaulay thus alludes to some of the Roman gods:--\n\n  \"Pomona loves the orchard,\n  And Liber loves the vine,\n  And Pales loves the straw-built shed\n  Warm with the breath of kine;\n  And Venus loves the whisper\n  Of plighted youth and maid\n  In April's ivory moonlight,\n  Beneath the Chestnut shade.\"\n  \"Prophecy of Capys.\"\n\nN.B.  It is to be observed that in proper names the final e and\nes are to be sounded.  Thus Cybele and Penates are words of three\nsyllables.  But Proserpine and Thebes have been so long used as\nEnglish words, that they may be regarded as exceptions, to be\npronounced as if English.  Hecate is sometimes pronounced by the\npoets as a dissylable.  In the Index at the close of the volume,\nwe shall mark the accented syllable, in all words which appear to\nrequire it.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nPrometheus and Pandora\n\nThe Roman poet Ovid gives us a connected narrative of creation.\nBefore the earth and sea and the all-covering heaven, one aspect,\nwhich we call Chaos, covered all the face of Nature,-- a rough\nheap of inert weight and discordant beginnings of things clashing\ntogether.  As yet no sun gave light to the world, nor did the\nmoon renew her slender horn month by month,-- neither did the\nearth hang in the surrounding air, poised by its own weight,--\nnor did the sea stretch its long arms around the earth.  Wherever\nthere was earth, there was also sea and air.  So the earth was\nnot solid nor was the water fluid, neither was the air\ntransparent.\n\nGod and Nature at last interposed and put an end to this discord,\nseparating earth from sea, and heaven from both.  The fiery part,\nbeing the lightest, sprang up, and formed the skies; the air was\nnext in weight and place.  The earth, being heavier, sank below,\nand the water took the lowest place and buoyed up the earth.\n\nHere some god, no man knows who, arranged and divided the land.\nHe placed the rivers and bays, raised mountains and dug out\nvalleys and distributed woods, fountains, fertile fields and\nstony plains.  Now that the air was clear the stars shone out,\nthe fishes swam the sea and birds flew in the air, while the\nfour-footed beasts roamed around the earth.  But a nobler animal\nwas needed, and man was made in the image of the gods with an\nupright stature [The two Greek words for man have the root an,\n\"up], so that while all other animals turn their faces downward\nand look to the earth, he raises his face to heaven and gazes on\nthe stars [Every reader will be interested in comparing this\nnarrative with that in the beginning of Genesis.  It seems clear\nthat so many Jews were in Rome in Ovid's days, many of whom were\npeople of consideration among those with whom he lived, that he\nmay have heard the account in the Hebrew Scriptures translated.\nCompare JUDAISM by Prof. Frederic Huidekoper.]\n\nTo Prometheus the Titan and to his brother Epimetheus was\ncommitted the task of making man and all other animals, and of\nendowing them with all needful faculties.  This Epimetheus did,\nand his brother overlooked the work.  Epimetheus then gave to the\ndifferent animals their several gifts of courage, strength,\nswiftness and sagacity.  He gave wings to one, claws to another,\na shelly covering to the third.  Man, superior to all other\nanimals, came last.  But for man Epimetheus had nothing,-- he had\nbestowed all his gifts elsewhere.  He came to his brother for\nhelp, and Prometheus, with the aid of Minerva, went up to heaven,\nlighted his torch at the chariot of the sun, and brought down\nfire to man.  With this, man was more than equal to all other\nanimals.  Fire enabled him to make weapons to subdue wild beasts,\ntools with which to till the earth.  With fire he warmed his\ndwelling and bid defiance to the cold.\n\nWoman was not yet made.  The story is, that Jupiter made her, and\nsent her to Prometheus and his brother, to punish them for their\npresumption in stealing fire from heaven; and man, for accepting\nthe gift.  The first woman was named Pandora.  She was made in\nheaven, every god contributing something to perfect her.  Venus\ngave her beauty, Mercury persuasion, Apollo music.  Thus\nequipped, she was conveyed to earth, and presented to Epimetheus,\nwho gladly accepted her, though cautioned by his brother to\nbeware of Jupiter and his gifts.  Epimetheus had in his house a\njar, in which were kept certain noxious articles, for which, in\nfitting man for his new abode, he had had no occasion.  Pandora\nwas seized with an eager curiosity to know what this jar\ncontained; and one day she slipped off the cover and looked in.\nForthwith there escaped a multitude of plagues for hapless man,--\nsuch as gout, rheumatism, and colic for his body, and envy,\nspite, and revenge for his mind,-- and scattered themselves far\nand wide.  Pandora hastened to replace the lid; but, alas! The\nwhole contents of the jar had escaped, one thing only excepted,\nwhich lay at the bottom, and that was HOPE.  So we see at this\nday, whatever evils are abroad, hope never entirely leaves us;\nand while we have THAT, no amount of other ills can make us\ncompletely wretched.\n\nAnother story is, that Pandora was sent in good faith, by\nJupiter, to bless man; that she was furnished with a box,\ncontaining her marriage presents, into which every god had put\nsome blessing.  She opened the box incautiously, and the\nblessings all escaped, HOPE only excepted.  This story seems more\nconsistent than the former; for how could HOPE, so precious a\njewel as it is, have been kept in a jar full of all manner of\nevils?\n\nThe world being thus furnished with inhabitants, the first age\nwas an age of innocence and happiness, called the GOLDEN AGE.\nTruth and right prevailed, though not enforced by law, nor was\nthere any magistrate to threaten or punish.  The forest had not\nyet been robbed of its trees to furnish timbers for vessels, nor\nhad men built fortifications round their towns.  There were no\nsuch things as swords, spears, or helmets.  The earth brought\nforth all things necessary for man, without his labor in\nploughing or sowing.  Perpetual spring reigned, flowers sprang up\nwithout seed, the rivers flowed with milk and wine, and yellow\nhoney distilled from the oaks.\n\n  \"But when good Saturn, banished from above,\n  Was driven to hell, the world was under Jove.\n  Succeeding times a Silver Age behold,\n  Excelling brass, but more excelled by gold.\n  Then summer, autumn, winter did appear,\n  And spring was but a season of the year.\n  The sun his annual course obliquely made,\n  Good days contracted and enlarged the bad,\n  Then air, with sultry heats, began to glow;\n  The wings of winds were clogged with ice and sno\n  And shivering mortals into houses driven,\n  Sought shelter from the inclemency of heaven.\n  Those houses then were caves, or homely sheds;\n  With twining osiers fenced; and moss their beds.\n  Then ploughs, for seed, the fruitful furrows broke,\n  And oxen labored first beneath the yoke.\n  To this came next in course the Brazen Age:\n  A warlike offspring, prompt to bloody rage,\n  Not impious yet! . .\n  . . . Hard Steel succeeded then;\n  And stubborn as the metal were the men.\"\n  Ovid's Metam, Book I.  Dryden's Translation.\n\nCrime burst in like a flood; modesty, truth, and honor fled.  In\ntheir places came fraud and cunning, violence, and the wicked\nlove of gain.  Then seamen spread sails to the wind, and the\ntrees were torn from the mountains to serve for keels to ships,\nand vex the face of ocean.  The earth, which till now had been\ncultivated in common, began to be divided off into possessions.\nMen were not satisfied with what the surface produced, but must\ndig into its bowels, and draw forth from thence the ores of\nmetals.  Mischievous IRON, and more mischievous GOLD, were\nproduced.  War sprang up, using both as weapons; the guest was\nnot safe in his friend's house; and sons-in-law and fathers-in-\nlaw, brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, could not trust\none another.  Sons wished their fathers dead, that they might\ncome to the inheritance; family love lay prostrate.  The earth\nwas wet with slaughter, and the gods abandoned it, one by one,\ntill Astraea [the goddess of innocence and purity.  After leaving\nearth, she was placed among the stars, where she became the\nconstellation Virgo  The Virgin.  Themis (Justice) was the mother\nof Astraea.  She is represented as holding aloft a pair of\nscales, in which she weighs the claims of opposing parties.  It\nwas a favorite idea of the old poets, that these goddesses would\none day return, and bring back the Golden Age.  Even in a\nChristian Hymn, the Messiah of Pope, this idea occurs.\n\n  \"All crimes shall cease, and ancient fraud shall fail,\n  Returning Justice lift aloft her scale,\n  Peace o'er the world her olive wand extend,\n  And white-robed Innocence from heaven descend.\"  See, also,\n  Milton's Hymn on the nativity, stanzas xiv, and xv] alone was\n      left, and finally she also took her departure.\n\nJupiter, seeing this state of things, burned with anger.  He\nsummoned the gods to council.  They obeyed the call, and took\nThe road to the palace of heaven.  The road, which any one may\nsee in a clear night, stretches across the face of the sky, and\nis called the Milky Way.  Along the road stand the palaces of the\nillustrious gods; the common people of the skies live apart, on\neither side.  Jupiter addressed the assembly.  He set forth the\nfrightful condition of things on the earth, and closed by\nannouncing his intention to destroy the whole of its inhabitants,\nand provide a new race, unlike the first, who would be more\nworthy of life, and much better worshippers of   the gods.  So\nsaying he took a thunderbolt, and was about to launch it at the\nworld, and destroy it by burning it; but recollecting the danger\nthat such a conflagration might set heaven itself on fire, he\nchanged his plan, and resolved to drown the world.  Aquilo, the\nnorth wind, which scatters the clouds, was chained up; Notus, the\nsouth, was sent out, and soon covered all the face of heaven with\na cloak of pitchy darkness.  The clouds, driven together, resound\nwith a crash; torrents of rain fall; the crops are laid low; the\nyear's labor of the husbandman perishes in an hour.  Jupiter, not\nsatisfied with his own waters, calls on his brother Neptune to\naid him with his.  He lets loose the rivers, and pours them over\nthe land.  At the same time, he heaves the land with an\nearthquake, and brings in the reflux of the ocean over the\nshores.  Flocks, herds, men, and houses are swept away, and\ntemples, with their sacred enclosures, profaned.  If any edifice\nremained standing, it was overwhelmed, and its turrets lay hid\nbeneath the waves.  Now all was sea; sea without shore.  Here and\nthere some one remained on a projecting hill-top, and a few, in\nboats, pulled the oar where they had lately driven the plough.\nThe fishes swim among the tree-tops; the anchor is let down into\na garden.  Where the graceful lambs played but now, unwieldy sea-\ncalves gambol.  The wolf swims among the sheep; the yellow lions\nand tigers struggle in the water.  The strength of the wild boar\nserves him not, nor his swiftness the stag.  The birds fall with\nweary wing into the water, having found no land for a resting\nplace.  Those living beings whom the water spared fell a prey to\nhunger.\n\nParnassus alone, of all the mountains, overtopped the waves; and\nthere Deucalion and his wife Pyrrha, of the race of Prometheus,\nfound refuge   he a just man, and she a faithful worshipper of\nthe gods.  Jupiter, when he saw none left alive but this pair,\nand remembered their harmless lives and pious demeanor, ordered\nthe north winds to drive away the clouds, and disclose the skies\nto earth, and earth to the skies.  Neptune also directed Triton\nto blow on his shell, and sound a retreat to the waters.  The\nwaters obeyed, and the sea returned to its shores, and the rivers\nto their channels.  Then Deucalion thus addressed Pyrrha: \"O\nwife, only surviving woman, joined to me first by the ties of\nkindred and marriage, and now by a common danger, would that we\npossessed the power of our ancestor Prometheus, and could renew\nthe race as he at first made it!  But as we cannot, let us seek\nyonder temple, and inquire of the gods what remains for us to\ndo.\"  They entered the temple, deformed as it was with slime, and\napproached the altar, where no fire burned.  There they fell\nprostrate on the earth, and prayed the goddess to inform them how\nthey might retrieve their miserable affairs.  The oracle\nanswered, \"Depart from the temple with head veiled and garments\nunbound, and cast behind you the bones of your mother.\"  They\nheard the words with astonishment.  Pyrrha first broke silence:\n\"We cannot obey; we dare not profane the remains of our parents.\"\nThey sought the thickest shades of the wood, and revolved the\noracle in their minds.  At length Deucalion spoke: \"Either my\nsagacity deceives me, or the command is one we may obey without\nimpiety.  The earth is the great parent of all; the stones are\nher bones; these we may cast behind us; and I think this is what\nthe oracle means.  At least, it will do no harm to try.\"  They\nveiled their faces, unbound their garments, and picked up stones,\nand cast them behind them.  The stones (wonderful to relate)\nbegan to grow soft, and assume shape.  By degrees, they put on a\nrude resemblance to the human form, like a block half finished in\nthe hands of the sculptor.  The moisture and slime that were\nabout them became flesh; the stony part became bones; the veins\nremained veins, retaining their name, only changing their use.\nThose thrown by the hand of the man became men, and those by the\nwoman became women.  It was a hard race, and well adapted to\nlabor, as we find ourselves to be at this day, giving plain\nindications of our origin.\n\nThe comparison of Eve to Pandora is too obvious to have escaped\nMilton, who introduces it in Book IV, of Paradise Lost:--\n\n  \"More lovely than Pandora, whom the gods\n  Endowed with all their gifts; and O, too like\n  In sad event, when to the unwiser son\n  Of Jupiter, brought by Hermes, she ensnared\n  Mankind with her fair looks, to be avenged\n  On him who had stole Jove's authentic fire.\"\n\nPrometheus and Epimetheus were sons of Iapetus, which Milton\nchanges to Japhet.\n\nPrometheus, the Titan son of Iapetus and Themis, is a favorite\nsubject with the poets.  AEschylus wrote three tragedies on the\nsubjects of his confinement, his release, and his worship at\nAthens.  Of these only the first is preserved, the Prometheus\nBound.  Prometheus was the only one in the council of the gods\nwho favored man.  He alone was kind to the human race, and taught\nand protected them.\n\n  \"I formed his mind,\n  And through the cloud of barbarous ignorance\n  Diffused the beams of knowledge . . . .\n  They saw indeed, they heard, but what availed\n  Or sight or hearing, all things round them rolling,\n  Like the unreal imagery of dreams\n  In wild confusion mixed!  The lightsome wall\n  Of finer masonry, the raftered roof\n  They knew not; but like ants still buried, delved\n  Deep in the earth and scooped their sunless caves.\n  Unmarked the seasons ranged, the biting winter,\n  The flower-perfumed spring, the ripening summer\n  Fertile of fruits.  At random all their works\n  Till I instructed them to mark the stars,\n  Their rising, and, a harder science yet,\n  Their setting.  The rich train of marshalled numbers\n  I taught them, and the meet array of letters.\n  To impress these precepts on their hearts I sent\n  Memory, the active mother of all reason.\n  I taught the patient steer to bear the yoke,\n  In all his toils joint-laborer of man.\n  By me the harnessed steed was trained to whirl\n  The rapid car, and grace the pride of wealth.\n  The tall bark, lightly bounding o'er the waves,\n  I taught its course, and winged its flying sail.\n  To man I gave these arts.\"\n  Potter's Translation from the Prometheus Bound\n\nJupiter, angry at the insolence and presumption of Prometheus in\ntaking upon himself to give all these blessings to man, condemned\nthe Titan to perpetual imprisonment, bound on a rock on Mount\nCaucasus while a vulture should forever prey upon his liver.\nThis state of torment might at any time have been brought to an\nend by Prometheus if he had been willing to submit to his\noppressor.  For Prometheus knew of a fatal marriage which Jove\nmust make and by which he must come to ruin.  Had Prometheus\nrevealed this secret he would at once have been taken into favor.\nBut this he disdained to do.  He has therefore become the symbol\nof magnanimous endurance of unmerited suffering and strength of\nwill resisting oppression.\n\nByron and Shelley have both treated this theme.  The following\nare Byron's lines:--\n\n  \"Titan!  To whose immortal eyes\n  The sufferings of mortality,\n  Seen in their sad reality,\n  Were not as things that gods despise,\n  What was thy pity's recompense?\n  A silent suffering, and intense;\n  The rock, the vulture, and the chain;\n  All that the proud can feel of pain;\n  The agony they do not show;\n  The suffocating sense of woe.\n\n  \"Thy godlike crime was to be kind;\n  To render with thy precepts less\n  The sum of human wretchedness,\n  And strengthen man with his own mind.\n  And, baffled as thou wert from high,\n  Still, in thy patient energy,\n  In the endurance and repulse,\n  Of thine impenetrable spirit,\n  Which earth and heaven could not convulse,\n  A mighty lesson we inherit.\"\n\n\n\nPYTHON\n\nThe slime with which the earth was covered by the waters of the\nflood, produced an excessive fertility, which called forth every\nvariety of production, both bad and good.  Among the rest,\nPython, an enormous serpent, crept forth, the terror of the\npeople, and lurked in the caves of Mount Parnassus.  Apollo slew\nhim with his arrows   weapons which he had not before used\nagainst any but feeble animals, hares, wild goats, and such game.\nIn commemoration of this illustrious conquest he instituted the\nPythian games, in which the victor in feats of strength,\nswiftness of foot, or in the chariot race, was crowned with a\nwreath of beech leaves; for the laurel was not yet adopted by\nApollo as his own tree.  And here Apollo founded his oracle at\nDelphi, the only oracle \"that was not exclusively national, for\nit was consulted by many outside nations, and, in fact, was held\nin the highest repute all over the world.  In obedience to its\ndecrees, the laws of Lycurgus were introduced, and the earliest\nGreek colonies founded.  No cities were built without first\nconsulting the Delphic oracle, for it was believed that Apollo\ntook special delight in the founding of cities, the first stone\nof which he laid in person; nor was any enterprise ever\nundertaken without inquiry at this sacred fane as to its probable\nsuccess\" [From Beren's Myths and Legends of Greece and Rome.]\n\nThe famous statue of Apollo called the Belvedere [From the\nBelvedere of the Vatican palace where it stands] represents the\ngod after his victory over the serpent Python.  To this Byron\nalludes in his Childe Harold, iv. 161:--\n\n  \"The lord of the unerring bow,\n  The god of life, and poetry, and light,\n  The Sun, in human limbs arrayed, and brow\n  All radiant from his triumph in the fight.\n  The shaft has just been shot; the arrow bright\n  With an immortal's vengeance; in his eye\n  And nostril, beautiful disdain, and might,\n  And majesty flash their full lightnings by,\n  Developing in that one glance the Deity.\"\n\n\nAPOLLO AND DAPHNE\n\nDaphne was Apollo's first love.  It was not brought about by\naccident, but by the malice of Cupid.  Apollo saw the boy playing\nwith his bow and arrows; and being himself elated with his recent\nvictory over Python, he said to him, \"What have you to do with\nwarlike weapons, saucy boy?  Leave them for hands worthy of them.\nBehold the conquest I have won by means of them over the vast\nserpent who stretched his poisonous body over acres of the plain!\nBe content with your torch, child, and kindle up your flames, as\nyou call them, where you will, but presume not to meddle with my\nweapons.\"\n\nVenus's boy heard these words, and rejoined, \":Your arrows may\nstrike all things else, Apollo, but mine shall strike you.:\" So\nsaying, he took his stand on a rock of Parnassus, and drew from\nhis quiver two arrows of different workmanship, one to excite\nlove, the other to repel it.  The former was of gold and sharp-\npointed, the latter blunt and tipped with lead.  With the leaden\nshaft he struck the nymph Daphne, the daughter of the river god\nPeneus, and with the golden one Apollo, through the heart.\nForthwith the god was seized with love for the maiden, and she\nabhorred the thought of loving.  Her delight was in woodland\nsports and in the spoils of the chase.  Many lovers sought her,\nbut she spurned them all, ranging the woods, and taking thought\nneither of Cupid nor of Hymen.  Her father often said to her,\n\"Daughter, you owe me a son-in-law; you owe me grandchildren.\"\nShe, hating the thought of marriage as a crime, with her\nbeautiful face tinged all over with blushes, threw her arms\naround her father's neck, and said, \"Dearest father, grant me\nthis favor, that I may always remain unmarried, like Diana.\"  He\nconsented, but at the same time said, \"Your own face will forbid\nit.\"\n\nApollo loved her, and longed to obtain her; and he who gives\noracles to all in the world was not wise enough to look into his\nown fortunes.  He saw her hair flung loose over her shoulders,\nand said, \"If so charming in disorder, what would it be if\narranged?\"  He saw her eyes bright as stars; he saw her lips, and\nwas not satisfied with only seeing them.  He admired her hands\nand arms bared to the shoulder, and whatever was hidden from view\nhe imagined more beautiful still.  He followed her; she fled,\nswifter than the wind, and delayed not a moment at his\nentreaties.  \"Stay,\" said he, \"daughter of Peneus; I am not a\nfoe.  Do not fly me as a lamb flies the wolf, or a dove the hawk.\nIt is for love I pursue you.  You make me miserable, for fear you\nshould fall and hurt yourself on these stones, and I should be\nthe cause.  Pray run slower, and I will follow slower.  I am no\nclown, no rude peasant.  Jupiter is my father, and I am lord of\nDelphos and Tenedos, and know all things, present and future.  I\nam the god of song and the lyre.  My arrows fly true to the mark;\nbut alas!  An arrow more fatal than mine has pierced my heart!  I\nam the god of medicine, and know the virtues of all healing\nplants.  Alas!  I suffer a malady that no balm can cure!\"\n\nThe nymph continued her flight, and left his plea half uttered.\nAnd even as she fled she charmed him.  The wind blew her\ngarments, and her unbound hair streamed loose behind her.  The\ngod grew impatient to find his wooings thrown away, and, sped by\nCupid, gained upon her in the race.  It was like a hound pursuing\na hare, with open jaws ready to seize, while the feebler animal\ndarts forward, slipping from the very grasp.  So flew the god and\nthe virgin   he on the wings of love, and she on those of fear.\nThe pursuer is the more rapid, however, and gains upon her, and\nhis panting breath blows upon her hair.  Now her strength begins\nto fail, and, ready to sink, she calls upon her father, the river\ngod: \"Help me, Peneus!  Open the earth to enclose me, or change\nmy form, which has brought me into this danger!\"\n\nScarcely had she spoken, when a stiffness seized all her limbs;\nher bosom began to be enclosed in a tender bark; her hair became\nleaves; her arms became branches; her feet stuck fast in the\nground, as roots; her face became a tree-top, retaining nothing\nof its former self but its beauty.  Apollo stood amazed.  He\ntouched the stem, and felt the flesh tremble under the new bark.\nHe embraced the branches, and lavished kisses on the wood.  The\nbranches shrank from his lips.  \"Since you cannot be my wife,\"\nsaid he, \"you shall assuredly be my tree.  I will wear you for my\ncrown.  With you I will decorate my harp and my quiver; and when\nthe great Roman conquerors lead up the triumphal pomp to the\nCapitol, you shall be woven into wreaths for their brows.  And,\nas eternal youth is mine, you also shall be always green, and\nyour leaf know no decay.\"  The nymph, now changed into a laurel\ntree, bowed its head in grateful acknowledgment.\n\nApollo was god of music and of poetry and also of medicine.  For,\nas the poet Armstrong says, himself a physician:--\n\n  \"Music exalts each joy, allays each grief,\n  Expels disease, softens every pain;\n  And hence the wise of ancient days adored\n  One power of physic, melody, and song.\"\n\nThe story of Apollo and Daphne is often alluded to by the poets.\nWaller applies it to the case of one whose amatory verses, though\nthey did not soften the heart of his mistress, yet won for the\npoet wide-spread fame.\n\n  \"Yet what he sung in his immortal strain,\n  Though unsuccessful, was not sung in vain.\n  All but the nymph that should redress his wrong,\n  Attend his passion and approve his song.\n  Like Phoebus thus, acquiring unsought praise,\n  He caught at love and filled his arms with bays.\"\n\nThe following stanza from Shelley's Adonais alludes to Byron's\nearly quarrel with the reviewers:--\n\n  \"The herded wolves, bold only to pursue;\n  The obscene ravens, clamorous o'er the dead;\n  The vultures, to the conqueror's banner true,\n  Who feed where Desolation first has fed.\n  And whose wings rain contagion; how they fled,\n  When like Apollo, from his golden bow,\n  The Pythian of the age one arrow sped\n  And smiled!  The spoilers tempt no second blow;\n  They fawn on the proud feet that spurn them as they go.\"\n\n\n\nPYRAMUS AND THISBE\n\nPyramus was the handsomest youth, and Thisbe the fairest maiden,\nin all Babylonia, where Semiramis reigned.  Their parents\noccupied adjoining houses; and neighborhood brought the young\npeople together, and acquaintance ripened into love.  They would\ngladly have married, but their parents forbade.  One thing,\nhowever, they could not forbid   that love should glow with equal\nardor in the bosoms of both.  They conversed by signs and\nglances, and the fire burned more intensely for being covered up.\nIn the wall that parted the two houses there was a crack, caused\nby some fault in the structure.  No one had remarked it before,\nbut the lovers discovered it.  'What will love not discover?  It\nafforded a passage to the voice; and tender messages used to pass\nbackward and forward through the gap.  As they stood, Pyramus on\nthis side, Thisbe on that, their breaths would mingle.  \"Cruel\nwall,\" they said, \"why do you keep two lovers apart?  But we will\nnot be ungrateful.  We owe you, we confess, the privilege of\ntransmitting loving words to willing ears.\"  Such words they\nuttered on different sides of the wall; and when night came and\nthey must say farewell, they pressed their lips upon the wall,\nshe on her side, he on his, as they could come no nearer.\n\nOne morning, when Aurora had put out the stars, and the sun had\nmelted the frost from the grass, they met at the accustomed spot.\nThen, after lamenting their hard fate, they agreed that next\nnight, when all was still, they would slip away from watchful\neyes, leave their dwellings and walk out into the fields; and to\ninsure a meeting, repair to a well-known edifice, standing\nwithout the city's bounds, called the tomb of Ninus, and that the\none who came first should await the other at the foot of a\ncertain tree.  It was a white mulberry tree and stood near a cool\nspring.  All was agreed on, and they waited impatiently for the\nsun to go down beneath the waters and night to rise up from them.\nThen cautiously Thisbe stole forth, unobserved by the family, her\nhead covered with a veil, made her way to the monument and sat\ndown under the tree.  As she sat alone in the dim light of the\nevening she descried a lioness, her jaws reeking with recent\nslaughter, approaching the fountain to slake her thirst.  Thisbe\nfled at the sight, and sought refuge in the hollow of a rock.  As\nshe fled she dropped her veil.  The lioness, after drinking at\nthe spring, turned to retreat to the woods, and seeing the veil\non the ground, tossed and rent it with her bloody mouth.\n\nPyramus, having been delayed, now approached the place of\nmeeting.  He saw in the sand the footsteps of the lion, and the\ncolor fled from his cheeks at the sight.  Presently he found the\nveil all rent and bloody.  \"Oh, hapless girl,\" said he, \"I have\nbeen the cause of thy death!  Thou, more worthy of life than I,\nhast fallen the first victim.  I will follow.  I am the guilty\ncause, in tempting thee forth to a place of such peril, and not\nbeing myself on the spot to guard thee.  Come forth, ye lions,\nfrom the rocks, and tear this guilty body with your teeth\" He\ntook up the veil, carried it with him to the appointed tree, and\ncovered it with kisses and with tears.  \"My blood also shall\nstain your texture,\" said he, and drawing his sword plunged it\ninto his heart.  The blood spurted from the wound, and tinged the\nwhite mulberries of the tree all red; and sinking into the earth\nreached the roots, so that the red color mounted through the\ntrunk to the fruit.\n\nBy this time, Thisbe, still trembling with fear, yet wishing not\nto disappoint her lover, stepped cautiously forth, looking\nanxiously for the youth, eager to tell him the danger she had\nescaped.  When she came to the spot and saw the changed color of\nthe mulberries she doubted whether it was the same place.  While\nshe hesitated she saw the form of one struggling in the agonies\nof death.  She started back, a shudder ran through her frame as a\nripple on the face of the still water when a sudden breeze sweeps\nover it.  But as soon as she recognized her lover, she screamed\nand beat her breast; embracing the lifeless body, pouring tears\ninto its wounds, and imprinting kisses on the cold lips.  \"Oh,\nPyramus,\" she cried, \"what has done this?  Answer me, Pyramus; it\nis your own Thisbe that speaks.  Hear me, dearest, and lift that\ndrooping head!\"  At the name of Thisbe, Pyramus opened his eyes,\nthen closed them again.  She saw her veil stained with blood and\nthe scabbard empty of its sword.  \"Thy own hand has slain thee,\nand for my sake,\" she said.  \"I too can be brave for once, and my\nlove is as strong as thine.  I will follow thee in death, for I\nhave been the cause; and death, which alone could part us, shall\nnot prevent my joining thee.  And ye, unhappy parents of us both,\ndeny us not our united request.  As love and death have joined\nus, let one tomb contain us.  And thou, tree, retain the marks of\nslaughter.  Let thy berries still serve for memorials of our\nblood.\"  So saying, she plunged the sword into her breast.  Her\nparents acceded to her wish; the gods also ratified it.  The two\nbodies were buried in one sepulchre, and the tree ever after\nbrought forth purple berries, as it does to this day.\n\nMoore, in the Sylph's Ball, speaking of Davy's Safety Lamp, is\nreminded of the wall that separated Thisbe and her lover:--\n\n  \"O for that lamp's metallic gauze,\n  That curtain of protecting wire,\n  Which Davy delicately draws\n  Around illicit, dangerous fire!\n\n  \"The wall he sets 'twixt Flame and Air,\n  (Like that which barred young Thisbe's bliss),\n  Through whose small holes this dangerous pair\n  May see each other, but not kiss.\"\n\nIn Mickle's translation of the Lusiad occurs the following\nallusion to the story of Pyramus and Thisbe, and the\nmetamorphosis of the mulberries.  The poet is describing the\nIsland of Love.\n\n  \"here each gift Pomona's hand bestows\n  In cultured garden, free uncultured flows,\n  The flavor sweeter and the hue more fair\n  Than e'er was fostered by the hand of care.\n  The cherry here in shining crimson glows,\n  And stained with lover's blood, in pendent rows,\n  The mulberries o'erload the bending boughs.\"\n\nIf any of our young readers can be so hard-hearted as to enjoy a\nlaugh at the expense of poor Pyramus and Thisbe, they may find an\nopportunity by turning to Shakespeare's play of Midsummer Night's\nDream, where it is most amusingly burlesqued.\n\nHere is the description of the play and the characters by the\nPrologue.\n\n  \"Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show;\n  But wonder on, till truth makes all things plain.\n  This man is Pyramus, if you would know;\n  This lovely lady Thisby is certain.\n\n  This man with lime and roughcast, doth present\n  Wall, that vile Wall, which did these lovers sunder;\n  And through Wall's chink, poor souls, they are content\n  To whisper.  At the which let no man wonder.\n  This man, with lanthorn, dog and bush of thorn,\n  Presenteth Moonshine; for, if you will know,\n  By Moonshine did these lovers think no scorn\n  To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo.\n  This grisly beast, which by name Lion hight.\n  The trusty Thisby, coming first by night,\n  Did scare away, or rather did affright;\n  And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall,\n  Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain.\n\n  Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall,\n  And finds his trusty Thisby's mantle slain;\n  Whereat with blade, with bloody blameful blade,\n  He bravely broached his boiling bloody breast;\n  And, Thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade,\n  His dagger drew and died.\"\n  Midsummer Night's Dream, v.1,128, et seq.\n\n\nCEPHALUS AND PROCRIS\n\nCephalus was a beautiful youth and fond of manly sports.  He\nwould rise before the dawn to pursue the chase.  Aurora saw him\nwhen she first looked forth, fell in love with him, and stole him\naway.  But Cephalus was just married to a charming wife whom he\nloved devotedly.  Her name was Procris.  She was a favorite of\nDiana, the goddess of hunting, who had given her a dog which\ncould outrun every rival, and a javelin which would never fail of\nits mark; and Procris gave these presents to her husband.\nCephalus was so happy in his wife that he resisted all the\nentreaties of Aurora, and she finally dismissed him in\ndispleasure, saying, \"Go, ungrateful mortal, keep your wife,\nwhom, if I am not much mistaken, you will one day be very sorry\nyou ever saw again.\"\n\nCephalus returned, and was as happy as ever in his wife and his\nwoodland sports.  Now it happened some angry deity had sent a\nravenous fox to annoy the country; and the hunters turned out in\ngreat strength to capture it.  Their efforts were all in vain; no\ndog could run it down; and at last they came to Cephalus to\nborrow his famous dog, whose name was Lelaps.  No sooner was the\ndog let loose than he darted off, quicker than their eye could\nfollow him.  If they had not seen his footprints in the sand they\nwould have thought he flew.  Cephalus and others stood on a hill\nand saw the race.  The fox tried every art; he ran in a circle\nand turned on his track, the dog close upon him, with open jaws,\nsnapping at his heels, but biting only the air.  Cephalus was\nabout to use his javelin, when suddenly he saw both dog and game\nstop instantly.  The heavenly powers who had given both, were not\nwilling that either should conquer.  In the very attitude of life\nand action they were turned into stone.  So lifelike and natural\ndid they look, you would have thought, as you looked at them,\nthat one was going to bark, the other to leap forward.\n\nCephalus, though he had lost his dog, still continued to take\ndelight in the chase.  He would go out at early morning, ranging\nthe woods and hills unaccompanied by any one, needing no help,\nfor his javelin was a sure weapon in all cases.  Fatigued with\nhunting, when the sun got high he would seek a shady nook where a\ncool stream flowed, and, stretched on the grass with his garments\nthrown aside, would enjoy the breeze.  Sometimes he would say\naloud, \"Come, sweet breeze, come and fan my breast, come and\nallay the heat that burns me.\"  Some one passing by one day heard\nhim talking in this way to the air, and, foolishly believing that\nhe was talking to some maiden, went and told the secret to\nProcris, Cephalus's wife.  Love is credulous.  Procris, at the\nsudden shock, fainted away.  Presently recovering, she said, \"It\ncannot be true; I will not believe it unless I myself am a\nwitness to it.\"  So she waited, with anxious heart, till the next\nmorning, when Cephalus went to hunt as usual.  Then she stole out\nafter him, and concealed herself in the place where the informer\ndirected her.  Cephalus came as he was wont when tired with\nsport, and stretched himself on the green bank, saying, \"Come,\nsweet breeze, come and fan me; you know how I love you!  You make\nthe groves and my solitary rambles delightful.\"  He was running\non in this way when he heard, or thought he heard, a sound as of\na sob in the bushes.  Supposing it some wild animal, he threw hie\njavelin at the spot.  A cry from his beloved Procris told him\nthat the weapon had too surely met its mark.  He rushed to the\nplace, and found her bleeding and with sinking strength\nendeavoring to draw forth from the wound the javelin, her own\ngift.  Cephalus raised her from the earth, strove to stanch the\nblood, and called her to revive and not to leave him miserable,\nto reproach himself with her death.  She opened her feeble eyes,\nand forced herself to utter these few words: \"I implore you, if\nyou have ever loved me, if I have ever deserved kindness at your\nhands, my husband, grant me this last request; do not marry that\nodious Breeze!\"  This disclosed the whole mystery; but alas!\nWhat advantage to disclose it now?  She died; but her face wore a\ncalm expression, and she looked pityingly and forgivingly on her\nhusband when he made her understand the truth.\n\nIn Shakespeare's play just quoted, there is an allusion to\nCephalus and Procris, although rather badly spelt.\n\n  Pyramus says, \"Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true.\"\n  Thisbe.  \"As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.\"\n\nMoore, in his Legendary Ballads, has one on Cephalus and Procris,\nbeginning thus:--\n\n  \"A hunter once in a grove reclined,\n  To shun the noon's bright eye,\n  And oft he wooed the wandering wind\n  To cool his brow with its sigh.\n  While mute lay even the wild bee's hum,\n  Nor breath could stir the aspen's hair,\n  His song was still, 'Sweet Air, O come!'\n  While Echo answered, 'Come, sweet Air!'\"\n\n\n\nChapter III\n\nIo and Callisto. Diana and Actaeon. The Story of Phaeton\n\nJupiter and Juno, although husband and wife, did not live\ntogether very happily.  Jupiter did not love his wife very much,\nand Juno distrusted her husband, and was always accusing him of\nunfaithfulness.  One day she perceived that it suddenly grew\ndark, and immediately suspected that her husband had raised a\ncloud to hide some of his doings that would not bear the light.\nShe brushed away the cloud, and saw her husband, on the banks of\na glassy river, with a beautiful heifer standing near him.  Juno\nsuspected that the heifer's form concealed some fair nymph of\nmortal mould.  This was indeed the case; for it was Io, the\ndaughter of the river god Inachus, whom Jupiter had been flirting\nwith, and, when he became aware of the approach of his wife, had\nchanged into that form.\n\nJuno joined her husband, and noticing the heifer, praised its\nbeauty, and asked whose it was, and of what herd.  Jupiter, to\nstop questions, replied that it was a fresh creation from the\nearth.  Juno asked to have it as a gift.  What could Jupiter do?\nHe was loth to give his mistress to his wife; yet how refuse so\ntrifling a present as a simple heifer?  He could not, without\narousing suspicion; so he consented.  The goddess was not yet\nrelieved of her suspicions; and she delivered the heifer to\nArgus, to be strictly watched.\n\nNow Argus had a hundred eyes in his head, and never went to sleep\nwith more than two at a time, so that he kept watch of Io\nconstantly.  He suffered her to feed through the day, and at\nnight tied her up with a vile rope round her neck.  She would\nhave stretched out her arms to implore freedom of Argus, but she\nhad no arms to stretch out, and her voice was a bellow that\nfrightened even herself. She saw her father and her sisters, went\nnear them, and suffered them to pat her back, and heard them\nadmire her beauty.  Her father reached her a tuft o gras, and she\nlicked the outstretched hand.  She longed to make herself known\nto him, and would have uttered her wish; but, alas!  words were\nwanting.  At length she bethought herself of writing, and\ninscribed her name   it was a short one   with her hoof on the\nsand.  Inachus recognized it, and discovering that his daughter,\nwhom he had long sought in vain, was hidden under this disguise,\nmourned over her, and, embracing her white neck, exclaimed,\n\"Alas!  My daughter, it would have been a less grief to have lost\nyou altogether!\"  While he thus lamented, Argus, observing, came\nand drove her away, and took his seat on a high bank, whence he\ncould see in every direction.\n\nJupiter was troubled at beholding the sufferings of his mistress,\nand calling Mercury, told him to go and despatch Argus.  Mercury\nmade haste, put his winged slippers on his feet, and cap on his\nhead, took his sleep-producing wand, and leaped down from the\nheavenly towers to the earth.  There he laid aside his wings, and\nkept only his wand, with which he presented himself as a shepherd\ndriving his flock.  As he strolled on he blew upon his pipes.\nThese were what are called the Syrinx or Pandean pipes.  Argus\nlistened with delight, for he had never heard the instrument\nbefore.  \"Young man,\" said he, \"come and take a seat by me on\nthis stone.  There is no better place for your flock to graze in\nthan hereabouts, and here is a pleasant shade such as shepherds\nlove.\"  Mercury sat down, talked, and told stories until it grew\nlate, and played upon his pipes his most soothing strains, hoping\nto lull the watchful eyes to sleep, but all in vain; for Argus\nstill contrived to keep some of his eyes open, though he shut the\nrest.\n\nAmong other stories, Mercury told him how the instrument on which\nhe played was invented.  \"There was a certain nymph, whose name\nwas Syrinx, who was much beloved by the satyrs and spirits of the\nwood; but she would have none of them, but was a faithful\nworshipper of Diana, and followed the chase.  You would have\nthought it was Diana herself, had you seen her in her hunting\ndress, only that her bow was of horn and Diana's of silver.  One\nday, as she was returning from the chase, Pan met her, told her\njust this, and added more of the same sort.  She ran away,\nwithout stopping to hear his compliments, and he pursued till she\ncame to the bank of the river, where he overtook her, and she had\nonly time to call for help on her friends, the water nymphs. They\nheard and consented.  Pan threw his arms around what he supposed\nto be the form of the nymph, and found he embraced only a tuft of\nreeds!  As he breathed a sigh, the air sounded through the reeds,\nand produced a plaintive melody.  The god, charmed with the\nnovelty and with the sweetness of the music, said 'Thus, then, at\nleast, you shall be mine.'  And he took some of the reeds, and\nplacing them together, of unequal lengths, side by side, made an\ninstrument which he called Syrinx, in honor of the nymph.\"\nBefore Mercury had finished his story, he saw Argus's eyes all\nasleep.  As his head nodded forward on his breast, Mercury with\none stroke cut his neck through, and tumbled his head down the\nrocks.  O hapless Argus!  The light of your hundred eyes is\nquenched at once!  Juno took them and put them as ornaments on\nthe tail of her peacock, where they remain to this day.\n\nBut the vengeance of Juno was not yet satiated.  She sent a\ngadfly to torment Io, who fled over the whole world from its\npursuit.  She swam through the Ionian Sea, which derived its name\nfrom her, then roamed over the plains of Illyria, ascended Mount\nHaemus, and crossed the Thracian strait, thence named the\nBosphorus (cow-bearer), rambled on through Scythia and the\ncountry of the Cimmerians, and arrived at last on the banks of\nthe Nile.  At length Jupiter interceded for her, and, upon his\npromising not to pay her any more attentions, Juno consented to\nrestore her to her form.  It was curious to see her gradually\nrecover her former self.  The coarse hairs fell from her body,\nher horns shrunk up, her eyes grew narrower, her mouth shorter;\nhands and fingers came instead of hoofs to her forefeet; in fine,\nthere was nothing left of the heifer except her beauty.  At first\nshe was afraid to speak for fear she should low, but gradually\nshe recovered her confidence, and was restored to her father and\nsisters.\n\nIn a poem dedicated to Leigh Hunt, by Keats, the following\nallusion to the story of Pan and Syrinx occurs:--\n\n  \"So did he feel who pulled the boughs aside,\n  That we might look into a forest wide,\n  *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *\n  Telling us how fair trembling Syrinx fled\n  Arcadian Pan, with such a fearful dread.\n  Poor nymph   poor Pan   how he did weep to find\n  Nought but a lovely sighing of the wind\n  Along the reedy stream; a half-heard strain,\n  Full of sweet desolation, balmy pain.\"\n\n\nCALLISTO\n\nCallisto was another maiden who excited the jealousy of Juno, and\nthe goddess changed her into a bear.  \"I will take away,\" said\nshe, :\"that beauty with which you have captivated my husband.\"\nDown fell Callisto on her hands and knees; she tried to stretch\nout her arms in supplication,-- they were already beginning to be\ncovered with black hair.  Her hands grew rounded, became armed\nwith crooked claws, and served for feet; her mouth, which Jove\nused to praise for its beauty, became a horrid pair of jaws; her\nvoice, which if unchanged would have moved the heart to pity,\nbecame a growl, more fit to inspire terror.  Yet her former\ndisposition remained, and, with continued groaning, she bemoaned\nher fate, and stood upright as well as she could, lifting up her\npaws to beg for mercy; and felt that Jove was unkind, though she\ncould not tell him so.  Ah, how often, afraid to stay in the\nwoods all night alone, she wandered about the neighborhood of her\nformer haunts; how often, frightened by the dogs, did she, so\nlately a huntress, fly in terror from the hunters!  Often she\nfled from the wild beasts, forgetting that she was now a wild\nbeast herself; and, bear as she was, was afraid of the bears.\n\nOne day a youth espied her as he was hunting.  She saw him and\nrecognized him as her own son, now grown a young man.  She\nstopped, and felt inclined to embrace him.  As she was about to\napproach, he, alarmed, raised his hunting spear, and was on the\npoint of transfixing her, when Jupiter, beholding, arrested the\ncrime, and, snatching away both of them, placed them in the\nheavens as the Great and Little Bear.\n\nJuno was in a rage to see her rival so set in honor, and hastened\nto ancient Tethys and Oceanus, the powers of ocean, and, in\nanswer to their inquiries, thus told the cause of her coming; \"Do\nyou ask why I, the queen of the gods, have left the heavenly\nplains and sought your depths.  Learn that I am supplanted in\nheaven,-- my place is given to another.  You will hardly believe\nme; but look when night darkens the world, and you shall see the\ntwo, of whom I have so much reason to complain, exalted to the\nheavens, in that part where the circle is the smallest, in the\nneighborhood of the pole.  Why should any one hereafter tremble\nat the thought of offending Juno, when such rewards are the\nconsequence of my displeasure!  See what I have been able to\neffect!  I forbade her to wear the human form,-- she is placed\namong the stars!  So do my punishments result,-- such is the\nextent of my power!  Better that she should have resumed her\nformer shape, as I permitted Io to do.  Perhaps he means to marry\nher, and put me away!  But you, my foster parents, if you feel\nfor me, and see with displeasure this unworthy treatment of me,\nshow it, I beseech you, by forbidding this guilty couple from\ncoming into your waters.\"  The powers of the ocean assented, and\nconsequently the two constellations of the Great and Little Bear\nmove round and round in heaven, but never sink, as the other\nstars do, beneath the ocean.\n\nMilton alludes to the fact that the constellation of the Bear\nnever sets, when he says,\n\n  \"Let my lamp at midnight hour\n  Be seen in some high lonely tower,\n  Where I may oft outwatch the Bear.\"\n  Il Penseroso\n\nAnd Prometheus, in James Russell Lowell's poem, says,\n\n\"One after one the stars have risen and set,\nSparkling upon the hoar-frost of my chain;\nThe Bear that prowled all night about the fold\nOf the North Star, hath shrunk into his den,\nScared by the blithsome footsteps of the dawn.\"\n\nThe last star in the tail of the Little Bear is the Pole star,\ncalled also the Cynosure.  Milton says,\n\n  \"Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures\n  While the landscape round it measures.\n  *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *\n  Towers and battlements it sees\n  Bosomed high in tufted trees,\n  Where perhaps some beauty lies\n  The Cynosure of neighboring eyes.\"\n  L'Allegro.\n\nThe reference here is both to the Pole-star as the guide of\nmariners, and to the magnetic attraction of the North.  He calls\nit also the \"Star of Aready,\" because Callisto's boy was named\nArcas, and they lived in Arcadia.  In Milton's Comus, the elder\nbrother, benighted in the woods, says,\n\n  \"Some gentle taper!\n  Through a rush candle, from\n  the wicker hole\n  Of some clay habitation,\n    visit us\n  With thy long levelled rule\n    of streaming light,\n  And thou shalt be our star of Aready,\n  Or Tyrian Chynsure.\"\n\n\nDIANA AND ACTAEON\n\nIt was midday, and the sun stood equally distant from either\ngoal, when young Actaeon, son of King Cadmus, thus addressed the\nyouths who with him were hunting the stag in the mountains:--\n\n\"Friends, our nets and our weapons are wet with the blood of our\nvictims; we have had sport enough for one day, and tomorrow we\ncan renew our labors.  Now, while Phoebus parches the earth, let\nus put by our instruments and indulge ourselves with rest.\"\n\nThere was a valley thickly enclosed with cypresses and pines,\nsacred to the huntress-queen, Diana.  In the extremity of the\nvalley was a cave, not adorned with art, but nature had\ncounterfeited art in its construction, for she had turned the\narch of its roof with stones as delicately fitted as if by the\nhand of man.  A fountain burst out from one side, whose open\nbasin was bounded by a grassy rim.  Here the goddess of the woods\nused to come when weary with hunting and lave her virgin limbs in\nthe sparkling water.\n\nOne day, having repaired thither with her nymphs, she handed her\njavelin, her quiver, and her bow to one, her robe to another,\nwhile a third unbound the sandals from her feet.  Then Crocale,\nthe most skilful of them, arranged her hair, and Nephele, Hyale,\nand the rest drew water in capacious urns.  While the goddess was\nthus employed in the labors of the toilet, behold, Actaeon,\nhaving quitted his companions, and rambling without any especial\nobject, came to the place, led thither by his destiny.  As he\npresented himself at the entrance of the cave, the nymphs, seeing\na man, screamed and rushed towards the goddess to hide her with\ntheir bodies.  But she was taller than the rest, and overtopped\nthem all by a head.  Such a color as tinges the clouds at sunset\nor at dawn came over the countenance of Diana thus taken by\nsurprise.  Surrounded as she was by her nymphs, she yet turned\nhalf away, and sought with a sudden impulse for her arrows.  As\nthey were not at hand, she dashed the water into the face of the\nintruder, adding these words: \"Now go and tell, if you can, that\nyou have seen Diana unapparelled.\"  Immediately a pair of\nbranching stag's horns grew out of his head, his neck gained in\nlength, his ears grew sharp-pointed, his hands became feet, his\narms long legs, his body was covered with a hairy spotted hide.\nFear took the place of his former boldness, and the hero fled.\nHe could not but admire his own speed; but when he saw his horns\nin the water, \"Ah, wretched me!: he would have said, but no sound\nfollowed the effort.  He groaned, and tears flowed down the face\nthat had taken the place of his own.  Yet his consciousness\nremained.  What shall he do?   Go home to seek the palace, or lie\nhid in the woods?  The latter he was afraid, the former he was\nashamed, to do.  While he hesitated the dogs saw him.  First\nMelampus, a Spartan dog, gave the signal with his bark, then\nPamphagus, Dorceus, Lelaps, Theron, Nape, Tigris, and all the\nrest, rushed after him swifter than the wind.  Over rocks and\ncliffs, through mountain gorges that seemed impracticable, he\nfled, and they followed.  Where he had often chased the stag and\ncheered on his pack, his pack now chased him, cheered on by his\nown huntsmen.  He longed to cry out, \"I am Actaeon; recognize\nyour master!\"  But the words came not at his will.  The air\nresounded with the bark of the dogs.  Presently one fastened on\nhis back, another seized his shoulder.  While they held their\nmaster, the rest of the pack came up and buried their teeth in\nhis flesh.  He groaned,   not in a human voice, yet certainly not\nin a stag's,   and, falling on his knees, raised his eyes, and\nwould have raised his arms in supplication, if he had had them.\nHis friends and fellow-huntsmen cheered on the dogs, and looked\nevery where for Actaeon, calling on him to join the sport.  At\nthe sound of his name, he turned his head, and heard them regret\nthat he should be away.  He earnestly wished he was.  He would\nhave been well pleased to see the exploits of his dogs, but to\nfeel them was too much.  They were all around him, rending and\ntearing; and it was not till they had torn his life out that the\nanger of Diana was satisfied.\n\nIn the \"Epic of Hades\" there is a description of Actaeon and his\nchange of form.  Perhaps the most beautiful lines in it are when\nActaeon, changed to a stag, first hears his own hounds and flees.\n\n  \"But as I gazed, and careless turned and passed\n  Through the thick wood, forgetting what had been,\n  And thinking thoughts no longer, swift there came\n  A mortal terror; voices that I knew.\n  My own hounds' bayings that I loved before,\n  As with them often o'er the purple hills\n  I chased the flying hart from slope to slope,\n  Before the slow sun climbed the eastern peaks,\n  Until the swift sun smote the western plain;\n  Whom often I had cheered by voice and glance,\n  Whom often I had checked with hand and thong;\n  Grim followers, like the passions, firing me,\n  True servants, like the strong nerves, urging me\n  On many a fruitless chase, to find and take\n  Some too swift-fleeting beauty, faithful feet\n  And tongues, obedient always: these I knew\n  Clothed with a new-born force and vaster grown,\n  And stronger than their master; and I thought,\n  What if they tore me with their jaws, nor knew\n  That once I ruled them,   brute pursuing brute,\n  And I the quarry?  Then I turned and fled\n  If it was I indeed that feared and fled\n  Down the long glades, and through the tangled brakes,\n  Where scarce the sunlight pierced; fled on and on,\n  And panted, self-pursued.  But evermore\n  The dissonant music which I knew so sweet,\n  When by the windy hills, the echoing vales\n  And whispering pines it rang; now far, now near\n  As from my rushing steed I leant and cheered\n  With voice and horn the chase; this brought to me\n  Fear of I knew not what, which bade me fly,\n  Fly always, fly; but when my heart stood still,\n  And all my limbs were stiffened as I fled,\n  Just as the white moon ghost-like climbed the sky,\n  Nearer they came and nearer, baying loud,\n  With bloodshot eyes and red jaws dripping foam;\n  And when I strove to check their savagery,\n  Speaking with words; no voice articulate came,\n  Only a dumb, low bleat.  Then all the throng\n  Leapt swift upon me and tore me as I lay,\n  And left me man again.\"\n\nIn Shelley's poem Adonais is the following allusion to the story\nof Actaeon:--\n\n  \"Midst others of less note came one frail form,\n  A phantom among men; companionless\n  As the last cloud of an expiring storm,\n  Whose thunder is its knell; he, as I guess,\n  Had gazed on Nature's naked loveliness,\n  Actaeon-like, and now he fled astray\n  With feeble steps o'er the world's wilderness;\n  And his own Thoughts, along that rugged way,\n  Pursued like raging hounds their father and their prey.\"\n  Adonais, stanza 31.\n\nThe allusion is probably to Shelley himself.\n\n\n\nLATONA AND THE RUSTICS\n\nSome thought the goddess in this instance more severe than was\njust, while others praised her conduct as strictly consistent\nwith her virgin dignity.  As usual, the recent event brought\nolder ones to mind, and one of the bystanders told this story.\n\"Some countrymen of Lycia once insulted the goddess Latona, but\nnot with impunity.  When I was young, my father, who had grown\ntoo old for active labors, sent me to Lycia to drive thence some\nchoice oxen, and there I saw the very pond and marsh where the\nwonder happened.  Near by stood an ancient altar, black with the\nsmoke of sacrifice and almost buried among the reeds.  I inquired\nwhose altar it might be, whether of Faunus or the Naiads or some\ngod of the neighboring mountain, and one of the country people\nreplied, 'No mountain or river god possesses this altar, but she\nwhom royal Juno in her jealousy drove from land to land, denying\nher any spot of earth whereon to rear her twins.  Bearing in her\narms the infant deities, Latona reached this land, weary with her\nburden and parched with thirst.  By chance she espied in the\nbottom of the valley this pond of clear water, where the country\npeople were at work gathering willows and osiers.  The goddess\napproached, and kneeling on the bank would have slaked her thirst\nin the cool stream, but the rustics forbade her.  'Why do you\nrefuse me water?' said she; 'water is free to all.  Nature allows\nno one to claim as property the sunshine, the air, or the water.\nI come to take my share of the common blessing.  Yet I ask it of\nyou as a favor.  I have no intention of washing my limbs in it,\nweary though they be, but only to quench my thirst.  My mouth is\nso dry that I can hardly speak.  A draught of water would be\nnectar to me; it would revive me, and I would own myself indebted\nto you for life itself.  Let these infants move your pity, who\nstretch out their little arms as if to plead for me'; and the\nchildren, as it happened, were stretching out their arms.\n\n\"Who would not have been moved with these gentle words of the\ngoddess?  But these clowns persisted in their rudeness; they even\nadded jeers and threats of violence if she did not leave the\nplace.  Nor was this all.  They waded into the pond and stirred\nup the mud with their feet, so as to make the water unfit to\ndrink.  Latona was so angry that she ceased to feel her thirst.\nShe no longer supplicated the clowns, but lifting her hands to\nheaven exclaimed, 'May they never quit that pool, but pass their\nlives there!'  And it came to pass accordingly.  They now live in\nthe water, sometimes totally submerged, then raising their heads\nabove the surface, or swimming upon it.  Sometimes they come out\nupon the bank, but soon leap back again into the water.  They\nstill use their base voices in railing, and though they have the\nwater all to themselves, are not ashamed to croak in the midst of\nit.  Their voices are harsh, their throats bloated, their mouths\nhave become stretched by constant railing, their necks have\nshrunk up and disappeared, and their heads are joined to their\nbodies.  Their backs are green, their disproportioned bellies\nwhite, and in short they are now frogs, and dwell in the slimy\npool.\"\n\nThis story explains the allusion in one of Milton's sonnets, \"On\nthe detraction which followed upon his writing certain\ntreatises.\"\n\n  \"I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs\n  By the known laws of ancient liberty,.\n  When straight a barbarous noise environs me\n  Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes and dogs.\n  As when those hinds that were transformed to frogs\n  Railed at Latona's twin-born progeny,\n  Which after held the sun and moon in fee.\"\n\nThe persecution which Latona experienced from Juno is alluded to\nin the story.  The tradition was that the future mother of Apollo\nand Diana, flying from the wrath of Juno, besought all the\nislands of the Aegean to afford her a place of rest, but all\nfeared too much the potent queen of heaven to assist her rival.\nDelos alone consented to become the birthplace of the future\ndeities.  Delos was then a floating island; but when Latona\narrived there, Jupiter fastened it with adamantine chains to the\nbottom of the sea, that it might be a secure resting place for\nhis beloved.  Byron alludes to Delos in his Don Juan:--\n\n  \"The isles of Greece!  The isles of Greece!\n  Where burning Sappho loved and sung,\n  Where grew the arts of war and peace,\n  Where Delos rose and Phoebus sprung!\"\n\n\n\nPHAETON\n\nEpaphus was the son of Jupiter and Io.  Phaeton, child of the\nSun, was one day boasting to him of his high descent and of his\nfather Phoebus.  Epaphus could not bear it.  \"Foolish fellow,\"\nsaid he \"you believe your mother in all things, and you are\npuffed up by your pride in a false father.\"  Phaeton went in rage\nand shame and reported this to his mother, Clymene.  \"If,\" said\nhe, \"I am indeed of heavenly birth, give me, mother, some proof\nof it, and establish my claim to the honor.\"  Clymene stretched\nforth her hands towards the skies, and said, \"I call to witness\nthe Sun which looks down upon us, that I have told you the truth.\nIf I speak falsely, let this be the last time I behold his light.\nBut it needs not much labor to go and inquire for yourself; the\nland whence the sun rises lies next to ours.  Go and demand of\nhim whether he will own you as a son\" Phaeton heard with delight.\nHe travelled to India, which lies directly in the regions of\nsunrise; and, full of hope and pride, approached the goal whence\nthe Sun begins his course.\n\nThe palace of the Sun stood reared aloft on columns, glittering\nwith gold and precious stones, while polished ivory formed the\nceilings, and silver the doors.  The workmanship surpassed the\nmaterial; for upon the walls Vulcan had represented earth, sea\nand skies, with their inhabitants.  In the sea were the nymphs,\nsome sporting in the waves, some riding on the backs of fishes,\nwhile others sat upon the rocks and dried their sea-green hair.\nTheir faces were not all alike, nor yet unlike,   but such as\nsisters' ought to be.  The earth had its towns and forests and\nrivers and rustic divinities.  Over all was carved the likeness\nof the glorious heaven; and on the silver doors the twelve signs\nof the zodiac, six on each side.\n\nClymene's son advanced up the steep ascent, and entered the halls\nof his disputed father.  He approached the paternal presence, but\nstopped at a distance, for the light was more than he could bear.\nPhoebus, arrayed in a purple vesture, sat on a throne which\nglittered as with diamonds.  On his right hand and his left stood\nthe Day, the Month, and the Year, and, at regular intervals, the\nHours.  Spring stood with her head crowned with flowers, and\nSummer, with garment cast aside, and a garland formed of spears\nof ripened grain, and Autumn, with his feet stained with grape\njuice, and icy Winter, with his hair stiffened with hoar frost.\nSurrounded by these attendants, the Sun, with the eye that sees\nevery thing, beheld the youth dazzled with the novelty and\nsplendor of the scene, and inquired the purpose of his errand.\nThe youth replied, \"Oh, light of the boundless world, Phoebus, my\nfather,   if you permit me to use that name,   give me some\nproof, I beseech you, by which I may be known as yours.\"  He\nceased; and his father, laying aside the beams that shone all\naround his head, bade him approach, and embracing him, said, \"My\nson, you deserve not to be disowned, and I confirm what your\nmother has told you.  To put an end to your doubts, ask what you\nwill, the gift shall be yours.  I call to witness that dreadful\nlake, which I never saw, but which we gods swear by in our most\nsolemn engagements.\"  Phaeton immediately asked to be permitted\nfor one day to drive the chariot of the sun.  The father repented\nof his promise; thrice and four times he shook his radiant head\nin warning.  \"I have spoken rashly,\" said he; \"only this request\nI would fain deny.  I beg you to withdraw it.  It is not a safe\nboon, nor one, my Phaeton, suited to your youth and strength.\nYour lot is mortal, and you ask what is beyond a mortal's power.\nIn your ignorance you aspire to do that which not even the gods\nthemselves may do.  None but myself may drive the flaming car of\nday; not even Jupiter, whose terrible right arm hurls the thunder\nbolts.  The first part of the way is steep, and such as the\nhorses when fresh in the morning can hardly climb; the middle is\nhigh up in the heavens, whence I myself can scarcely, without\nalarm, look down and behold the earth and sea stretched beneath\nme.  The last part of the road descends rapidly, and requires\nmost careful driving.  Tethys, who is waiting to receive me,\noften trembles for me lest I should fall headlong.  Add to all\nthis, the heaven is all the time turning round and carrying the\nstars with it.  I have to be perpetually on my guard lest that\nmovement, which sweeps everything else along, should hurry me\nalso away.  Suppose I should lend you the chariot, what would you\ndo?  Could you keep your course while the sphere was revolving\nunder you?  Perhaps you think that there are forests and cities,\nthe abodes of gods, and palaces and temples on the way.  On the\ncontrary, the road is through the midst of frightful monsters.\nYou pass by the horns of the Bull, in front of the Archer, and\nnear the Lion's jaws, and where the Scorpion stretches its arms\nin one direction and the Crab in another.  Nor will you find it\neasy to guide those horses, with their breasts full of fire which\nthey breathe forth from their mouths and nostrils.  I can\nscarcely govern them myself, when they are unruly and resist the\nreins.  Beware, my son, lest I should give you a fatal gift;\nrecall your request while yet you may.  Do you ask me for proof\nthat you are sprung from my blood?  I give you a proof in my\nfears for you.  Look at my face,-- I would that you could look\ninto my breast, you would there see all a father's anxiety.\nFinally,\" he continued, \"look round the world and choose whatever\nyou will of what earth or sea contains most precious,   ask it\nand fear no refusal.  This only I pray you not to urge.  It is\nnot honor, but destruction you seek.  Why do you hang round my\nneck and still entreat me?  You shall have it if you persist,\nthe oath is sworn and must be kept,   but I beg you to choose\nmore wisely.\"\n\nHe ended; but the youth rejected all admonition, and held to his\ndemand.  So, having resisted as long as he could, Phoebus at last\nled the way to where stood the lofty chariot.\n\nIt was of gold, the gift of Vulcan; the axle was of gold, the\npole and wheels of gold, the spokes of silver.  Along the seat\nwere rows of chrysolites and diamonds, which reflected all around\nthe brightness of the sun.  While the daring youth gazed in\nadmiration, the early Dawn threw open the purple doors of the\neast, and showed the pathway strewn with roses.  The stars\nwithdrew, marshalled by the Daystar, which last of all retired\nalso.  The father, when he saw the earth beginning to glow, and\nthe Moon preparing to retire, ordered the Hours to harness up the\nhorses.  They obeyed, and led forth from the lofty stalls the\nsteeds full fed with ambrosia, and attached the reins.  Then the\nfather bathed the face of his son with a powerful unguent, and\nmade him capable of enduring the brightness of the flame.  He set\nthe rays on his head, and, with a foreboding sigh, said, \"If, my\nson, you will in this at least heed my advice, spare the whip and\nhold tight the reins.  They go fast enough of their own accord;\nthe labor is to hold them in.  You are not to take the straight\nroad directly between the five circles, but turn off to the left.\nKeep within the limit of the middle zone, and avoid the northern\nand the southern alike.  You will see the marks of the wheels,\nand they will serve to guide you.  And, that the skies and the\nearth may each receive their due share of heat, go not too high,\nor you will burn the heavenly dwellings, nor too low, or you will\nset the earth on fire; the middle course is safest and best.  And\nnow I leave you to your chance, which I hope will plan better for\nyou than you have done for yourself.  Night is passing out of the\nwestern gates and we can delay no longer.  Take the reins; but if\nat last your heart fails you, and you will benefit by my advice,\nstay where you are in safety, and suffer me to light and warm the\nearth.\"  The agile youth sprang into the chariot, stood erect and\ngrasped the reins with delight, pouring out thanks to his\nreluctant parent.\n\nMeanwhile the horses fill the air with their snortings and fiery\nbreath, and stamp the ground impatient.  Now the bars are let\ndown, and the boundless plain of the universe lies open before\nthem.  They dart forward and cleave the opposing clouds, and\noutrun the morning breezes which started from the same eastern\ngoal.  The steeds soon perceived that the load they drew was\nlighter than usual; and as a ship without ballast is tossed\nhither and thither on the sea, so the chariot, without its\naccustomed weight, was dashed about as if empty.  They rush\nheadlong and leave the travelled road.  He is alarmed, and knows\nnot how to guide them; nor, if he knew, has he the power.  Then,\nfor the first time, the Great and Little Bear were scorched with\nheat, and would fain, if it were possible, have plunged into the\nwater; and the Serpent which lies coiled up round the north pole,\ntorpid and harmless, grew warm, and with warmth felt its rage\nrevive.  Bootes, they say, fled away, though encumbered with his\nplough, and all unused to rapid motion.\n\nWhen hapless Phaeton looked down upon the earth, now spreading in\nvast extent beneath him, he grew pale and his knees shook with\nterror.  In spite of the glare all around him, the sight of his\neyes grew dim.  He wished he had never touched his father's\nhorses, never learned his parentage, never prevailed in his\nrequest.  He is borne along like a vessel that flies before a\ntempest, when the pilot can do no more and betakes himself to his\nprayers.  What shall he do?  Much of the heavenly road is left\nbehind, but more remains before.  He turns his eyes from one\ndirection to the other; now to the goal whence he began his\ncourse, now to the realms of sunset which he is not destined to\nreach.  He loses his self-command, and knows not what to do,\nwhether to draw tight the reins or throw them loose; he forgets\nthe names of the horses.  He sees with terror the monstrous forms\nscattered over the surface of heaven.  Here the Scorpion extended\nhis two great arms, with his tail and crooked claws stretching\nover two signs of the zodiac.  When the boy beheld him, reeking\nwith poison and menacing with his fangs, his courage failed, and\nthe reins fell from his hands.  The horses, feeling the reins\nloose on their backs, dashed headlong, and unrestrained went off\ninto unknown regions of the sky, in among the stars, hurling the\nchariot over pathless places, now up in high heaven, now down\nalmost to the earth.  The moon saw with astonishment her\nbrother's chariot running beneath her own.  The clouds begin to\nsmoke, and the mountain tops take fire; the fields are parched\nwith heat, the plants wither, the trees with their leafy branches\nburn, the harvest is ablaze!  But these are small things.  Great\ncities perished, with their walls and towers; whole nations with\ntheir people were consumed to ashes!  The forest-clad mountains\nburned, Athos and Taurus and Tmolus and OEte; Ida, once\ncelebrated for fountains, but now all dry; the Muses' mountain\nHelicon, and Haemus; AEtna, with fires within and without, and\nParnassus, with his two peaks, and Rhodope, forced at last to\npart with his snowy crown.  Her cold climate was no protection to\nScythia, Caucasus burned, and Ossa and Pindus, and, greater than\nboth, Olympus; the Alps high in air, and the Apennines crowned\nwith clouds.\n\nThen Phaeton beheld the world on fire, and felt the heat\nintolerable.  The air he breathed was like the air of a furnace\nand full of burning ashes, and the smoke was of a pitchy\ndarkness.  He dashed forward he knew not whither.  Then, it is\nbelieved, the people of AEthiopia became black by the blood being\nforced so suddenly to the surface, and the Libyan desert was\ndried up to the condition in which it remains to this day.  The\nNymphs of the fountains, with dishevelled hair, mourned their\nwaters, nor were the rivers safe beneath their banks; Tanais\nsmoked, and Caicus, Xanthus and Meander.  Babylonian Euphrates\nand Ganges, Tagus with golden sands, and Caijster where the swans\nresort.  Nile fled away and hid his head in the desert, and there\nit still remains concealed.  Where he used to discharge his\nwaters through seven mouths into the sea, there seven dry\nchannels alone remained.  The earth cracked open, and through the\nchinks light broke into Tartarus, and frightened the king of\nshadows and his queen.  The sea shrank up.  Where before was\nwater, it became a dry plain; and the mountains that lie beneath\nthe waves lifted up their heads and became islands.  The fishes\nsought the lowest depths, and the dolphins no longer ventured as\nusual to sport on the surface.  Even Nereus, and his wife Doris,\nwith the Nereids, their daughters, sought the deepest caves for\nrefuge.  Thrice Neptune essayed to raise his head above the\nsurface and thrice was driven back by the heat.  Earth,\nsurrounded as she was by waters, yet with head and shoulders\nbare, screening her face with her hand, looked up to heaven, and\nwith a husky voice called on Jupiter.\n\n\"O ruler of the gods, if I have deserved this treatment, and it\nis your will that I perish with fire, why withhold your\nthunderbolts?  Let me at least fall by your hand.  Is this the\nreward of my fertility, of my obedient service?  Is it for this\nthat I have supplied herbage for cattle, and fruits for men, and\nfrankincense for your altars?  But if I am unworthy of regard,\nwhat has my brother Ocean done to deserve such a fate?  If\nneither of us can excite your pity, think, I pray you, of your\nown heaven, and behold how both the poles are smoking which\nsustain your palace, which must fall if they be destroyed.  Atlas\nfaints, and scarce holds up his burden.  If sea, earth, and\nheaven perish, we fall into ancient Chaos.  Save what yet remains\nto us from the devouring flame.  Oh, take thought for our\ndeliverance in this awful moment!\"\n\nThus spoke Earth, and overcome with heat and thirst, could say no\nmore.  Then Jupiter Omnipotent, calling to witness all the gods,\nincluding him who had lent the chariot, and showing them that all\nwas lost unless some speedy remedy were applied, mounted the\nlofty tower from whence he diffuses clouds over the earth, and\nhurls the forked lightnings.  But at that time not a cloud was to\nbe found to interpose for a screen to earth, nor was a shower\nremaining unexhausted.  He thundered, and brandishing a\nlightning-bolt in his right hand launched it against the\ncharioteer, and struck him at the same moment from his seat and\nfrom existence!  Phaeton, with his hair on fire, fell headlong,\nlike a shooting star which marks the heavens with its brightness\nas it falls, and Eridanus, the great river, received him and\ncooled his burning frame.  The Italian Naiads reared a tomb for\nhim, and inscribed these words upon the stone:\n\n  \"Driver of Phoebus' chariot, Phaeton,\n  Struck by Jove's thunder, rests beneath this stone.\n  He could not rule his father's car of fire,\n  Yet was it much so nobly to aspire.\"\n\nHis sisters, the Heliades, as they lamented his fate were turned\ninto poplar trees, on the banks of the river, and their tears,\nwhich continued to flow, became amber as they dropped into the\nstream,\n\nOne of Prior's best remembered poems is that on the Female\nPhaeton, from which we quote the last verse.\n\nKitty has been imploring her mother to allow her to go out into\nthe world as her friends have done, if only for once.\n\n  \"Fondness prevailed, mamma gave way;\n  Kitty, at heart's desire,\n  Obtained the chariot for a day,\n  And set the world on fire.\"\n\nMilman, in his poem of Samor, makes the following allusion to\nPhaeton's story:--\n\n  \"As when the palsied universe aghast\n  Lay .... mute and still,\n  When drove, so poets sing, the sun-born youth\n  Devious through Heaven's affrighted signs his sire's\n  Ill-granted chariot.  Him the Thunderer hurled\n  From th'empyrean headlong to the gulf\n  Of the half-parched Eridanus, where weep\n  Even now the sister trees their amber tears\n  O 'er Phaeton untimely dead.\"\n\nIn the beautiful lines of Walter Savage Lando describing the sea-\nshell, there is an allusion to the sun's palace and chariot.  The\nwater-nymph says,\n\n  \"I have sinuous shells of pearly hue\n  Within, and things that lustre have imbibed\n  In the sun's palace porch, where when unyoked\n  His chariot-wheel stands midway in the wave.\n  Shake one and it awakens; then apply\n  Its polished lip to your attentive car,\n  And it remembers its August abodes,\n  And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there.\"\n  Gebir, Book 1\n\n\n\nChapter IV\n\nMidas. Baucis and Philemon. Pluto and Proserpine.\n\nBacchus, on a certain occasion, found his old school master and\nfoster father, Silenus, missing.  The old man had been drinking,\nand in that state had wandered away, and was found by some\npeasants, who carried him to their king, Midas.  Midas recognized\nhim, and treated him hospitably, entertaining him for ten days\nand nights with an unceasing round of jollity.  On the eleventh\nday he brought Silenus back, and restored him in safety to his\npupil.  Whereupon Bacchus offered Midas his choice of whatever\nreward he might wish.  He asked that whatever he might touch\nshould be changed into GOLD.  Bacchus consented, though sorry\nthat he had not made a better choice.  Midas went his way,\nrejoicing in his newly acquired power, which he hastened to put\nto the test.  He could scarce believe his eyes when he found that\na twig of an oak, which he plucked from the branch, became gold\nin his hand.  He took up a stone   it changed to gold.  He\ntouched a sod   it did the same.  He took an apple from the tree\n  you would have thought he had robbed the garden of the\nHesperides.  His joy knew no bounds, and as soon as he got home,\nhe ordered the servants to set a splendid repast on the table.\nThen he found to his dismay that whether he touched bread, it\nhardened in his hand; or put a morsel to his lips, it defied his\nteeth.  He took a glass of wine, but it flowed down his throat\nlike melted gold.\n\nIn consternation at the unprecedented affliction, he strove to\ndivest himself of his power; he hated the gift he had lately\ncoveted.  But all in vain; starvation seemed to await him.  He\nraised his arms, all shining with gold, in prayer to Bacchus,\nbegging to be delivered from his glittering destruction.\nBacchus, merciful deity, heard and consented.  \"Go,\" said he, \"to\nthe river Pactolus, trace the stream to its fountain-head, there\nplunge in your head and body and wash away your fault and its\npunishment.\"  He did so, and scarce had he touched the waters\nbefore the gold-creating power passed into them, and the river\nsands became changed into GOLD, as they remain to this day.\n\nThenceforth Midas, hating wealth and splendor, dwelt in the\ncountry, and became a worshipper of Pan, the god of the fields.\nOn a certain occasion Pan had the temerity to compare his music\nwith that of Apollo, and to challenge the god of the lyre to a\ntrial of skill.  The challenge was accepted, and Tmolus, the\nmountain-god, was chosen umpire.  Tmolus took his seat and\ncleared away the trees from his ears to listen.  At a given\nsignal Pan blew on his pipes, and with his rustic melody gave\ngreat satisfaction to himself and his faithful follower, Midas,\nwho happened to be present.  Then Tmolus turned his head toward\nthe sun-god, and all his trees turned with him.  Apollo rose, his\nbrow wreathed with Parnassian laurel, while his robe of Tyrian\npurple swept the ground.  In his left hand he held the lyre, and\nwith his right hand struck the strings.  Ravished with the\nharmony, Tmolus at once awarded the victory to the god of the\nlyre, and all but Midas acquiesced in the judgment.  He\ndissented, and questioned the justice of the award.  Apollo would\nnot suffer such a depraved pair of ears any longer to wear the\nhuman form, but caused them to increase in length, grow hairy,\nwithin and without, and to become movable, on their roots; in\nshort, to be on the perfect pattern of those of an ass.\n\nMortified enough was King Midas at this mishap; but he consoled\nhimself with the thought that it was possible to hide his\nmisfortune, which he attempted to do by means of an ample turban\nor headdress.  But his hairdresser of course knew the secret.  He\nwas charged not to mention it, and threatened with dire\npunishment if he presumed to disobey.  But he found it too much\nfor his discretion to keep such a secret; so he went out into the\nmeadow, dug a hole in the ground, and stooping down, whispered\nthe story, and covered it up. Before long a thick bed of reeds\nsprang up in the meadow, and as soon as it had gained its growth,\nbegan whispering the story, and has continued to do so, from that\nday to this, with every breeze which passes over the place.\n\nThe story of King Midas has been told by others with some\nvariations.  Dryden, in the Wife of Bath's Tale, makes Midas'\nqueen the betrayer of the secret.\n\n  \"This Midas knew, and durst communicate\n  To none but to his wife his ears of state.\"\n\nMidas was king of Phrygia.  He was the son of Gordius, a poor\ncountryman, who was taken by the people and made king, in\nobedience to the command of the oracle, which had said that their\nfuture king should come in a wagon.  While the people were\ndeliberating, Gordius with his wife and son came driving his\nwagon into the public square.\n\nGordius, being made king, dedicated his wagon to the deity of the\noracle, and tied it up in its place with a fast knot.  This was\nthe celebrated GORDIAN KNOT, of which, in after times it was\nsaid, that whoever should untie it should become lord of all\nAsia.  Many tried to untie it, but none succeeded, till Alexander\nthe Great, in his career of conquest, came to Phrygia.  He tried\nhis skill with as ill success as the others, till growing\nimpatient he drew his sword and cut the knot.  When he afterwards\nsucceeded in subjecting all Asia to his sway, people began to\nthink that he had complied with the terms of the oracle according\nto its true meaning.\n\n\nBAUCIS AND PHILEMON\n\nOn a certain hill in Phrygia stand a linden tree and an oak,\nenclosed by a low wall.  Not far from the spot is a marsh,\nformerly good habitable land, but now indented with pools, the\nresort of fen-birds and cormorants.  Once on a time, Jupiter, in\nhuman shape, visited this country, and with him his son Mercury\n(he of the caduceus), without his wings.  They presented\nthemselves at many a door as weary travellers, seeking rest and\nshelter, but found all closed, for it was late, and the\ninhospitable inhabitants would not rouse themselves to open for\ntheir reception.  At last a humble mansion received them, a small\nthatched cottage, where Baucis, a pious old dame, and her husband\nPhilemon, united when young, had grown old together.  Not ashamed\nof their poverty, they made it endurable by moderate desires and\nkind dispositions.  One need not look there for master or for\nservant; they two were the whole household, master and servant\nalike.  When the two heavenly guests crossed the humble\nthreshold, and bowed their heads to pass under the low door, the\nold man placed a seat, on which Baucis, bustling and attentive,\nspread a cloth, and begged them to sit down.  Then she raked out\nthe coals from the ashes, kindled up a fire, and fed it with\nleaves and dry bark, and with her scanty breath blew it into a\nflame.  She brought out of a corner split sticks and dry\nbranches, broke them up, and placed them under the small kettle.\nHer husband collected some pot-herbs in the garden, and she shred\nthem from the stalks, and prepared them for the pot He reached\ndown with a forked stick a flitch of bacon hanging in the\nchimney, cut a small piece, and put it in the pot to boil with\nthe herbs, setting away the rest for another time.  A beechen\nbowl was filled with warm water that their guests might wash.\nWhile all was doing they beguiled the time with conversation.\n\nOn the bench designed for the guests was laid a cushion stuffed\nwith sea-weed; and a cloth, only produced on great occasions, but\nold and coarse enough, was spread over that.  The old woman, with\nher apron on, with trembling hand set the table.  One leg was\nshorter than the rest, but a shell put under restored the level.\nWhen fixed, she rubbed the table down with some sweet-smelling\nherbs.  Upon it she set some olives, Minerva's-fruit, some\ncornel-berries preserved in vinegar, and added radishes and\ncheese, with eggs lightly cooked in the ashes.  All were served\nin earthen dishes, and an earthenware pitcher, with wooden cups,\nstood beside them.  When all was ready, the stew, smoking hot,\nwas set on the table.  Some wine, not of the oldest, was added;\nand for dessert, apples and wild honey; and over and above all,\nfriendly faces, and simple but hearty welcome.\n\nNow while the repast proceeded, the old folks were astonished to\nsee that the wine, as fast as it was poured out, renewed itself\nin the pitcher, of its own accord.  Struck with terror, Baucis\nand Philemon recognized their heavenly guests, fell on their\nknees, and with clasped hands implored forgiveness for their poor\nentertainment.  There was an old goose, which they kept as the\nguardian of their humble cottage; and they bethought them to make\nthis a sacrifice in honor of their guests.  But the goose, too\nnimble for the old folks, eluded their pursuit with the aid of\nfeet and wings, and at last took shelter between the gods\nthemselves.  They forbade it to be slain; and spoke in these\nwords: \"We are gods.  This inhospitable village shall pay the\npenalty of its impiety; you alone shall go free from the\nchastisement.  Quit your house, and come with us to the top of\nyonder hill.\"  They hastened to obey, and staff in hand, labored\nup the steep ascent. They had come within an arrow's flight of\nthe top, when turning their eyes below, they beheld all the\ncountry sunk in a lake, only their own house left standing.\nWhile they gazed with wonder at the sight, and lamented the fate\nof their neighbors, that old house of theirs was changed into a\nTEMPLE.  Columns took the place of the corner-posts, the thatch\ngrew yellow and appeared a gilded roof, the floors became marble,\nthe doors were enriched with carving and ornaments of gold.  Then\nspoke Jupiter in benignant accents: \"Excellent old man, and woman\nworthy of such a husband, speak, tell us your wishes; what favor\nhave you to ask of us?\"  Philemon took counsel with Baucis a few\nmoments; then declared to the gods their united wish.  \"We ask to\nbe priests and guardians of this your temple; and since here we\nhave passed our lives in love and concord, we wish that one and\nthe same hour may take us both from life, that I may not live to\nsee her grave, nor be laid in my own by her.\"  Their prayer was\ngranted.  They were the keepers of the temple as long as they\nlived.  When grown very old, as they stood one day before the\nsteps of the sacred edifice, and were telling the story of the\nplace, Baucis saw Philemon begin to put forth leaves, and old\nPhilemon saw Baucis changing in like manner.  And now a leafy\ncrown had grown over their heads, while exchanging parting words,\nas long as they could speak.  \"Farewell, dear spouse,\" they said,\ntogether, and at the same moment the bark closed over their\nmouths.  The Tyanean shepherd long showed the two trees, standing\nside by side, made out of the two good old people.\n\nThe story of Baucis and Philemon has been imitated by Swift, in a\nburlesque style, the actors in the change being two wandering\nsaints and the house being changed into a church, of which\nPhilemon is made the parson The following may serve as a\nspecimen:--\n\n  \"They scarce had spoke when, fair and soft,\n  The roof began to mount aloft;\n  Aloft rose every beam and rafter;\n  The heavy wall climbed slowly after.\n  The chimney widened and grew higher,\n  Became a steeple with a spire.\n  The kettle to the top was hoist,\n  And there stood fastened to a joist,\n  But with the upside down, to show\n  Its inclination for below;\n  In vain, for a superior force,\n  Applied at bottom, stops its course;\n  Doomed ever in suspense to dwell,\n  'Tis now no kettle, but a bell.\n  A wooden jack, which had almost\n  Lost by disuse the art to roast,\n  A sudden alteration feels,\n  Increased by new intestine wheels;\n  And, what exalts the wonder more,\n  The number made the motion slower;\n  The flier, though 't had leaden feet,\n  Turned round so quick you scarce could see 't:\n  But slackened by some secret power,\n  Now hardly moves an inch an hour.\n  The jack and chimney, near allied,\n  Had never left each other's side.\n  The chimney to a steeple grown,\n  The jack would not be left alone;\n  But up against the steeple reared,\n  Became a clock, and still adhered;\n  And still its love to household cares\n  By a shrill voice at noon declares.\n  Warning the cook-maid not to burn\n  That roast meat which it cannot turn.\n  The groaning chair began to crawl,\n  Like a huge snail, along the wall;\n  There stuck aloft in public view,\n  And, with small change, a pulpit grew.\n  A bedstead of the antique mode,\n  Compact of timber many a load,\n  Such as our ancestors did use,\n  Was metamorphosed into pews,\n  Which still their ancient nature keep\n  By lodging folks disposed to sleep.\"\n\n\nPROSERPINE\n\nUnder the island of Aetna lies Typhoeus the Titan, in punishment\nfor his share in the rebellion of the giants against Jupiter.\nTwo mountains press down   the one his right and the other his\nleft hand   while Aetna lies over his head.  As Typhoeus moves,\nthe earth shakes; as he breathes, smoke and ashes come up from\nAetna.  Pluto is terrified at the rocking of the earth, and fears\nthat his kingdom will be laid open to the light of day.  He\nmounts his chariot with the four black horses and comes up to\nearth and looks around.  While he is thus engaged, Venus, sitting\non Mount Eryx playing with her boy Cupid, sees him and says: \"My\nson, take your darts with which you conquer all, even Jove\nhimself, and send one into the breast of yonder dark monarch, who\nrules the realm of Tartarus.  Why should he alone escape?  Seize\nthe opportunity to extend your empire and mine.  Do you not see\nthat even in heaven some despise our power?  Minerva the wise,\nand Diana the huntress, defy us; and there is that daughter of\nCeres, who threatens to follow their example.  Now do you, if you\nhave any regard for your own interest or mine, join these two in\none.\"  The boy unbound his quiver, and selected his sharpest and\ntruest arrow; then, straining the bow against his knee, he\nattached the string, and, having made ready, shot the arrow with\nits barbed point right into the heart of Pluto.\n\nIn the vale of Enna there is a lake embowered in woods, which\nscreen it from the fervid rays of the sun, while the moist ground\nis covered with flowers, and spring reigns perpetual.  Here\nProserpine was playing with her companions, gathering lilies and\nviolets, and filling her basket and her apron with them, when\nPluto saw her from his chariot, loved her, and carried her off.\nShe screamed for help to her mother and her companions; and when\nin her fright she dropped the corners of her apron and let the\nflowers fall, childlike, she felt the loss of them as an addition\nto her grief.  The ravisher urged on his steeds, calling them\neach by name, and throwing loose over their heads and necks his\niron-colored reins.  When he reached the River Cyane, and it\nopposed his passage, he struck the river bank with his trident,\nand the earth opened and gave him a passage to Tartarus.\n\nCeres sought her daughter all the world over.  Bright-haired\nAurora, when she came forth in the morning, and Hesperus, when he\nled out the stars in the evening, found her still busy in the\nsearch.  But it was all unavailing.  At length, weary and sad,\nshe sat down upon a stone and continued sitting nine days and\nnights, in the open air, under the sunlight and moonlight and\nfalling showers.  It was where now stands the city of Eleusis,\nthen the home of an old man named Celeus.  He was out in the\nfield, gathering acorns and blackberries, and sticks for his\nfire.  His little girl was driving home their two goats, and as\nshe passed the goddess, who appeared in the guise of an old\nwoman, she said to her, \"Mother,\" and the name was sweet to the\nears of Ceres, \"why do you sit here alone upon the rocks?\"  The\nold man also stopped, though his load was heavy, and begged her\nto come into his cottage, such as it was.  She declined, and he\nurged her.  \"Go in peace,\" she replied, \"and be happy in your\ndaughter; I have lost mine.\"  As she spoke, tears   or something\nlike tears, for the gods never weep   fell down her cheeks upon\nher bosom.  The compassionate old man and his child wept with\nher.  Then said he, \"Come with us, and despise not our humble\nroof; so may your daughter be restored to you in safety.\"  \"Lead\non,\" said she, \"I cannot resist that appeal!\"  So she rose from\nthe stone and went with them.  As they walked he told her that\nhis only son, a little boy, lay very sick, feverish and\nsleepless.  She stooped and gathered some poppies.  As they\nentered the cottage they found all in great distress, for the boy\nseemed past hope of recovery.  Metanira, his mother, received her\nkindly, and the goddess stooped and kissed the lips of the sick\nchild.  Instantly the paleness left his face, and healthy vigor\nreturned to his body.  The whole family were delighted   that is,\nthe father, mother, and little girl, for they were all; they had\nno servants. They spread the table, and put upon it curds and\ncream, apples, and honey in the comb.  While they ate, Ceres\nmingled poppy juice in the milk of the boy.  When night came and\nall was still, she arose, and taking the sleeping boy, moulded\nhis limbs with her hands, and uttered over him three times a\nsolemn charm, then went and laid him in the ashes.  His mother,\nwho had been watching what her guest was doing, sprang forward\nwith a cry and snatched the child from the fire.  Then Ceres\nassumed her own form, and a divine splendor shone all around.\nWhile they were overcome with astonishment, she said, \"Mother,\nyou have been cruel in your fondness to your son.  I would have\nmade him immortal, but you have frustrated my attempt.\nNevertheless, he shall be great and useful.  He shall teach men\nthe use of the plough, and the rewards which labor can win from\nthe cultivated soil.\"  So saying, she wrapped a cloud about her,\nand mounting her chariot rode away.\n\nCeres continued her search for her daughter, passing from land to\nland, and across seas and rivers, till at length she returned to\nSicily, whence she at first set out, and stood by the banks of\nthe River Cyane, where Pluto made himself a passage with his\nprize to his own dominions.\n\nThe river-nymph would have told the goddess all she had\nwitnessed, but dared not, for fear of Pluto; so she only ventured\nto take up the girdle which Proserpine had dropped in her flight,\nand waft it to the feet of the mother.  Ceres, seeing this, was\nno longer in doubt of her loss, but she did not yet know the\ncause, and laid the blame on the innocent land.  \"Ungrateful\nsoil,\" said she, \"which I have endowed with fertility and clothed\nwith herbage and nourishing grain, No more shall you enjoy my\nfavors\" Then the cattle died, the plough broke in the furrow, the\nseed failed to come up; there was too much sun, there was too\nmuch rain; the birds stole the seeds,   thistles and brambles\nwere the only growth.  Seeing this, the fountain Arethusa\ninterceded for the land.  \"Goddess,\" said she, \"blame not the\nland; it opened unwillingly to yield a passage to your daughter.\nI can tell you of her fate, for I have seen her.  This is not my\nnative country; I came hither from Elis.  I was a woodland nymph,\nand delighted in the chase.  They praised my beauty, but I cared\nnothing for it, and rather boasted of my hunting exploits.  One\nday I was returning from the wood, heated with exercise, when I\ncame to a stream silently flowing, so clear that you might count\nthe pebbles on the bottom.  The willows shaded it, and the grassy\nbank sloped down to the water's edge.  I approached, I touched\nthe water with my foot.  I stepped in knee-deep, and not content\nwith that, I laid my garments on the willows and went in.  While\nI sported in the water, I heard an indistinct murmur coming up as\nout of the depths of the stream; and made haste to escape to the\nnearest bank.  The voice said, 'Why do you fly, Arethusa?  I am\nAlpheus, the god of this stream.'  I ran, he pursued; he was not\nmore swift than I, but he was stronger, and gained upon me, as my\nstrength failed.  At last, exhausted, I cried for help to Diana.\n'Help me, goddess!  Help your votary!'  The goddess heard, and\nwrapped me suddenly in a thick cloud.  The river-god looked now\nthis way and now that, and twice came close to me, but could not\nfind me.  'Arethusa!  Arethusa!' he cried.  Oh, how I trembled,\nlike a lamb that hears the wolf growling outside the fold.  A\ncold sweat came over me, my hair flowed down in streams; where my\nfoot stood there was a pool.  In short, in less time than it\ntakes to tell it I became a fountain.  But in this form Alpheus\nknew me, and attempted to mingle his stream with mine.  Diana\ncleft the ground, and I, endeavoring to escape him, plunged into\nthe cavern, and through the bowels of the earth came out here in\nSicily.  While I passed through the lower parts of the earth, I\nsaw your Proserpine.  She was sad, but no longer showing alarm in\nher countenance.  Her look was such as became a queen,   the\nqueen of Erebus; the powerful bride of the monarch of the realms\nof the dead.\"\n\nWhen Ceres heard this, she stood for a while like one stupefied;\nthen turned her chariot towards heaven, and hastened to present\nherself before the throne of Jove.  She told the story of her\nbereavement, and implored Jupiter to interfere to procure the\nrestitution of her daughter.  Jupiter consented on one condition,\nnamely, that Proserpine should not during her stay in the lower\nworld have taken any food; otherwise, the Fates forbade her\nrelease.  Accordingly, Mercury was sent, accompanied by Spring,\nto demand Proserpine of Pluto.  The wily monarch consented; but\nalas! the maiden had taken a pomegranate which Pluto offered her,\nand had sucked the sweet pulp from a few of the seeds.  This was\nenough to prevent her complete release; but a compromise was\nmade, by which she was to pass half the time with her mother, and\nthe rest with her husband Pluto.\n\nCeres allowed herself to be pacified with this arrangement, and\nrestored the earth to her favor.  Now she remembered Celeus and\nhis family, and her promise to his infant son Triptolemus.  When\nthe boy grew up, she taught him the use of the plough, and how to\nsow the seed.  She took him in her chariot, drawn by winged\ndragons, through all the countries of the earth, imparting to\nmankind valuable grains, and the knowledge of agriculture.  After\nhis return, Triptolemus build a magnificent temple to Ceres in\nEleusis, and established the worship of the goddess, under the\nname of the Eleusinian mysteries, which, in the splendor and\nsolemnity of their observance, surpassed all other religious\ncelebrations among the Greeks.\n\nThere can be little doubt but that this story of Ceres and\nProserpine is an allegory.  Proserpine signifies the seed-corn,\nwhich, when cast into the ground, lies there concealed,   that\nis, she is carried off by the god of the underworld; it\nreappears,   that is, Proserpine is restored to her mother.\nSpring leads her back to the light of day.\n\nMilton alludes to the story of Proserpine in Paradise lost, Book\nIV.:\n\n  \"Not that fair field\n  Of Enna where Proserpine gathering flowers,\n  Herself a fairer flower, by gloomy Dis (a name for Pluto)\n  Was gathered, which cost Ceres all that pain\n  To seek her through the world,\n  . . . . might with this Paradise\n  Of Eden strive.\"\n\nHood, in his Ode to Melancholy, uses the same allusion very\nbeautifully:\n\n  \"Forgive, if somewhile I forget,\n  In woe to come the present bliss;\n  As frightened Proserpine let fall\n  Her flowers at the sight of Dis.\"\n\nThe River Alpheus does in fact disappear under ground, in part of\nits course, finding its way through subterranean channels, till\nit again appears on the surface.  It was said that the Sicilian\nfountain Arethusa was the same stream, which, after passing under\nthe sea, came up again in Sicily.  Hence the story ran that a cup\nthrown into the Alpheus appeared again in Arethusa.  It is this\nfable of the underground course of Alpheus that Coleridge alludes\nto in his poem of Kubla Khan:\n\n  \"In Xanadu did Kubla Khan\n  A stately pleasure-dome decree,\n  Where Alph, the sacred river, ran\n  Through caverns measureless to man,\n  Down to a sunless sea.\"\n\nIn one of Moore's juvenile poems he alludes to the same story,\nand to the practice of throwing garlands, or other light objects\non the stream to be carried downward by it, and afterwards thrown\nout when the river comes again to light.\n\n  \"Oh, my beloved, how divinely sweet\n  Is the pure joy when kindred spirits meet!\n  Like him the river-god, whose waters flow,\n  With love their only light, through caves below,\n  Wafting in triumph all the flowery braids\n  And festal rings, with which Olympic maids\n  Have decked his current, as an offering meet\n  To lay at Arethusa's shining feet.\n  Think, when he meets at last his fountain bride,\n  What perfect love must thrill the blended tide!\n  Each lost in each, till mingling into one,\n  Their lot the same for shadow or for sun,\n  A type of true love, to the deep they run.\"\n\nThe following extract from Moore's Rhymes on the Road gives an\naccount of a celebrated picture by Albano at Milan, called a\nDance of Loves:\n\n  \"'Tis for the theft of Enna's flower from earth\n  These urchins celebrate their dance of mirth,\n  Round the green tree, like fays upon a heath,\n  Those that are nearest linked in order bright,\n  Cheek after cheek, like rosebuds in a wreath;\n  And those more distant showing from beneath\n  The others' wings their little eyes of light.\n  While see! Among the clouds, their eldest brother,\n  But just flown up, tells with a smile of bliss,\n  This prank of Pluto to his charmed mother,\n  Who turns to greet the tidings with a kiss.\"\n\n\n\nGLAUCUS AND SCYLLA\n\nGlaucus was a fisherman.  One day he had drawn his nets to land,\nand had taken a great many fishes of various kinds.  So he\nemptied his net, and proceeded to sort the fishes on the grass.\nThe place where he stood was a beautiful island in the river, a\nsolitary spot, uninhabited, and not used for pasturage of cattle,\nnor ever visited by any but himself.  On a sudden, the fishes,\nwhich had been laid on the grass, began to revive and move their\nfins as if they were in the water; and while he looked on\nastonished, they one and all moved off to the water, plunged in\nand swam away.  He did not know what to make of this, whether\nsome god had done it, or some secret power in the herbage.  \"What\nherb has such a power?\" he exclaimed; and gathering some, he\ntasted it.  Scarce had the juices of the plant reached his palate\nwhen he found himself agitated with a longing desire for the\nwater.  He could no longer restrain himself, but bidding farewell\nto earth, he plunged into the stream.  The gods of the water\nreceived him graciously, and admitted him to the honor of their\nsociety.  They obtained the consent of Oceanus and Tethys, the\nsovereigns of the sea, that all that was mortal in him should be\nwashed away.  A hundred rivers poured their waters over him .\nThen he lost all sense of his former nature and all\nconsciousness.  When he recovered, he found himself changed in\nform and mind.  His hair was sea-green, and trailed behind him on\nthe water; his shoulders grew broad, and what had been thighs and\nlegs assumed the form of a fish's tail.  The sea-gods\ncomplimented him on the change of his appearance, and he himself\nwas pleased with his looks.\n\nOne day Glaucus saw the beautiful maiden Scylla, the favorite of\nthe water-nymphs, rambling on the shore, and when she had found a\nsheltered nook, laving her limbs in the clear water.  He fell in\nlove with her, and showing himself on the surface, spoke to her,\nsaying such things as he thought most likely to win her to stay;\nfor she turned to run immediately on sight of him and ran till\nshe had gained a cliff overlooking the sea.  Here she stopped and\nturned round to see whether it was a god or a sea-animal, and\nobserved with wonder his shape and color.  Glaucus, partly\nemerging from the water, and supporting himself against a rock,\nsaid, \"Maiden, I am no monster, nor a sea-animal, but a god; and\nneither Proteus nor Triton ranks higher than I.  Once I was a\nmortal, and followed the sea for a living; but now I belong\nwholly to it.\"  Then he told the story of his metamorphosis and\nhow he had been promoted to his present dignity, and added, \"But\nwhat avails all this if it fails to move your heart?\"  He was\ngoing on in this strain, but Scylla turned and hastened away.\n\nGlaucus was in despair, but it occurred to him to consult the\nenchantress, Circe.  Accordingly he repaired to her island,   the\nsame where afterwards Ulysses landed, as we shall see in another\nstory.  After mutual salutations, he said, \"Goddess, I entreat\nyour pity; you alone can relieve the pain I suffer.  The power of\nherbs I know as well as any one, for it is to them I owe my\nchange of form I love Scylla.  I am ashamed to tell you how I\nhave sued and promised to her, and how scornfully she has treated\nme.  I beseech you to use your incantations, or potent herbs, if\nthey are more prevailing, not to cure me of my love,   for that I\ndo not wish,   but to make her share it and yield me a like\nreturn.\"  To which Circe replied, for she was not insensible to\nthe attractions of the sea-green deity, \"You had better pursue a\nwilling object; you are worthy to be sought, instead of having to\nseek in vain.  Be not diffident, know your own worth.  I protest\nto you that even I, goddess though I be, and learned in the\nvirtues of plants and spells, should not know how to refuse you\nIf she scorns you, scorn her; meet one who is ready to meet you\nhalf way, and thus make a due return to both at once.\"  To these\nwords Glaucus replied, \"Sooner shall trees grow at the bottom of\nthe ocean, and seaweed on the top of the mountains, than I will\ncease to love Scylla, and her alone.\"\n\nThe goddess was indignant, but she could not punish him, neither\ndid she wish to do so, for she liked him too well; so she turned\nall her wrath against her rival, poor Scylla.  She took plants of\npoisonous powers and mixed them together, with incantations and\ncharms.  Then she passed through the crowd of gambolling beasts,\nthe victims of her art, and proceeded to the coast of Sicily,\nwhere Scylla lived.  There was a little bay on the shore to which\nScylla used to resort, in the heat of the day, to breathe the air\nof the sea, and to bathe in its waters.  Here the goddess poured\nher poisonous mixture, and muttered over it incantations of\nmighty power.  Scylla came as usual and plunged into the water up\nto her waist.  What was her horror to perceive a brood of\nserpents and barking monsters surrounding her!  At first she\ncould not imagine they were a part of herself, and tried to run\nfrom them, and to drive them away; but as she ran she carried\nthem with her, and when she tried to touch her limbs, she found\nher hands touch only the yawning jaws of monsters.  Scylla\nremained rooted to the spot.  Her temper grew as ugly as her\nform, and she took pleasure in devouring hapless mariners who\ncame within her grasp.  Thus she destroyed six of the companions\nof Ulysses, and tried to wreck the ships of Aeneas, till at last\nshe was turned into a rock, and as such still continues to be a\nterror to mariners.\n\nThe following is Glaucus's account of his feelings after his\n\"sea-change:\"\n\n  \"I plunged for life or death.  To interknit\n  One's senses with so dense a breathing stuff\n  Might seem a work of pain; so not enough\n  Can I admire how crystal-smooth it felt,\n  And buoyant round my limbs.  At first I dwelt\n  Whole days and days in sheer astonishment;\n  Forgetful utterly of self-9ntent,\n  Moving but with the mighty ebb and flow.\n  Then like a new-fledged bird that first doth show\n  His spreaded feathers to the morrow chill,\n  I tried in fear the pinions of my well.\n  \"Twas freedom!  And at once I visited\n  The ceaseless wonders of this ocean-bed.\"\n  Keats.\n\n\n\nChapter V\n\nPygmalion.  Dryope.  Venus and Adonis.  Apollo and Hyacinthus.\nCeyx and Halcyone.\n\nPygmalion saw so much to blame in women that he came at last to\nabhor the sex, and resolved to live unmarried.  He was a\nsculptor, and had made with wonderful skill a statue of ivory, so\nbeautiful that no living woman could be compared to it in beauty.\nIt was indeed the perfect semblance of a maiden that seemed to be\nalive, and only prevented from moving by modesty.  His art was so\nperfect that it concealed itself, and its product looked like the\nworkmanship of nature.  Pygmalion admired his own work, and at\nlast fell in love with the counterfeit creation.  Oftentimes he\nlaid his hand upon it, as if to assure himself whether it were\nliving or not, and could not even then believe that it was only\nivory.  He caressed it, and gave it presents such as young girls\nlove,   bright shells and polished stones, little birds and\nflowers of various hues, beads and amber.  He put raiment on its\nlimbs, and jewels on its fingers, and a necklace about its neck.\nTo the ears he hung earrings and strings of pearls upon the\nbreast.  Her dress became her, and she looked not less charming\nthan when unattired.  He laid her on a couch spread with cloths\nof Tyrian dye, and called her his wife, and put her head upon a\npillow of the softest feathers, as if she could enjoy their\nsoftness.\n\nThe festival of Venus was at hand,   a festival celebrated with\ngreat pomp at Cyprus.  Victims were offered, the altars smoked,\nand the odor of incense filled the air.  When Pygmalion had\nperformed his part in the solemnities, he stood before the altar\nand timidly said, \"Ye gods, who can do all things, give me, I\npray you, for my wife\"   he dared not say \"my ivory virgin,\" but\nsaid instead   \"one like my ivory virgin.\"  Venus, who was\npresent at the festival, heard him and knew the thought he would\nhave uttered; and, as an omen of her favor, caused the flame on\nthe altar to shoot up thrice in a fiery point into the air.  When\nhe returned home, he went to see his statue, and, leaning over\nthe couch, gave a kiss to the mouth.  It seemed to be warm.  He\npressed its lips again, he laid his hand upon the limbs; the\nivory felt soft to his touch, and yielded to his fingers like the\nwax of Hymettus.  While he stands astonished and glad, though\ndoubting, and fears he may be mistaken, again and again with a\nlover's ardor he touches the object of his hopes.  It was indeed\nalive!  The veins when pressed yielded to the finger and then\nresumed their roundness.  Then at last the votary of Venus found\nwords to thank the goddess, and pressed his lips upon lips as\nreal as his own.  The virgin felt the kisses and blushed, and,\nopening her timid eyes to the light, fixed them at the same\nmoment on her lover.  Venus blessed the nuptials she had formed,\nand from this union Paphos was born, from whom the city, sacred\nto Venus, received its name.\n\nSchiller, in his poem, the Ideals, applies this tale of Pygmalion\nto the love of nature in a youthful heart.  In Schiller's\nversion, as in William Morris's, the statue is of marble.\n\n  \"As once with prayers in passion flowing,\n  Pygmalion embraced the stone,\n  Till from the frozen marble glowing,\n  The light of feeling o'er him shone,\n  So did I clasp with young devotion\n  Bright Nature to a poet's heart;\n  Till breath and warmth and vital motion\n  Seemed through the statue form to dart.\n\n  \"And then in all my ardor sharing,\n  The silent form expression found;\n  Returned my kiss of youthful daring,\n  And understood my heart's quick sound.\n  Then lived for me the bright creation.\n  The silver rill with song was rife;\n  The trees, the roses shared sensation,\n  An echo of my boundless life.\"\n  Rev. A. G. Bulfinch (brother of the author).\n\nMorris tells the story of Pygmalion and the Image in some of the\nmost beautiful verses of the Earthly Paradise.\n\nThis is Galatea's description of her metamorphosis:\n\n  \"'My sweet,' she said, 'as yet I am not wise,\n  Or stored with words aright the tale to tell,\n  But listen: when I opened first mine eyes\n  I stood within the niche thou knowest well,\n  And from my hand a heavy thing there fell\n  Carved like these flowers, nor could I see things clear,\n  But with a strange confused noise could hear.\n\n  \"'At last mine eyes could see a woman fair,\n  But awful as this round white moon o'erhead,\n  So that I trembled when I saw her there,\n  For with my life was born some touch of dread,\n  And therewithal I heard her voice that said,\n  \"Come down and learn to love and be alive,\n  For thee, a well-prized gift, today I give.\"'\"\n\n\n\nDRYOPE\n\nDryope and Iole were sisters.  The former was the wife of\nAndraemon, beloved by her husband, and happy in the birth of her\nfirst child.  One day the sisters strolled to the bank of a\nstream that sloped gradually down to the water's edge, while the\nupland was overgrown with myrtles.  They were intending to gather\nflowers for forming garlands for the altars of the nymphs, and\nDryope carried her child at her bosom, a precious burden, and\nnursed him as she walked.  Near the water grew a lotus plant,\nfull of purple flowers.  Dryope gathered some and offered them to\nthe baby, and Iole was about to do the same, when she perceived\nblood dropping from the places where her sister had broken them\noff the stem.  The plant was no other than the Nymph Lotis, who,\nrunning from a base pursuer, had been changed into this form.\nThis they learned from the country people when it was too late.\n\nDryope, horror-struck when she perceived what she had done, would\ngladly have hastened from the spot, but found her feet rooted to\nthe ground.  She tried to pull them away, but moved nothing but\nher arms.  The woodiness crept upward, and by degrees invested\nher body.  In anguish she attempted to tear her hair, but found\nher hands filled with leaves.  The infant felt his mother's bosom\nbegin to harden, and the milk cease to flow.  Iole looked on at\nthe sad fate of her sister, and could render no assistance.  She\nembraced the growing trunk, as if she would hold back the\nadvancing wood, and would gladly have been enveloped in the same\nbark.  At this moment Andraemon, the husband of Dryope, with her\nfather, approached; and when they asked for Dryope, Iole pointed\nthem to the new-formed lotus.  They embraced the trunk of the yet\nwarm tree, and showered their kisses on its leaves.\n\nNow there was nothing left of Dryope but her face.  Her tears\nstill flowed and fell on her leaves, and while she could she\nspoke.  \"I am not guilty.  I deserve not this fate.  I have\ninjured no one.  If I speak falsely, may my foliage perish with\ndrought and my trunk be cut down and burned.  Take this infant\nand give him to a nurse.  Let him often be brought and nursed\nunder my branches, and play in my shade; and when he is old\nenough to talk, let him be taught to call me mother, and to say\nwith sadness, 'My mother lies hid under this bark' But bid him be\ncareful of river banks, and beware how he plucks flowers,\nremembering that every bush he sees may be a goddess in disguise.\nFarewell, dear husband, and sister, and father.  If you retain\nany love for me, let not the axe wound me, nor the flocks bite\nand tear my branches.  Since I cannot stoop to you, climb up\nhither and kiss me; and while my lips continue to feel, lift up\nmy child that I may kiss him.  I can speak no more, for already\nthe bark advances up my neck, and will soon shoot over me.  You\nneed not close my eyes; the bark will close them without your\naid.\"  Then the lips ceased to move, and life was extinct; but\nthe branches retained, for some time longer the vital heat.\n\nKeats, in Endymion, alludes to Dryope thus:\n\n  \"She took a lute from which there pulsing came\n  A lively prelude, fashioning the way\n  In which her voice should wander.  'Twas a lay\n  More subtle-cadenced, more forest-wild\n  Than Dryope's lone lulling of her child.\"\n\n\nVENUS AND ADONIS\n\nVenus, playing one day with her boy Cupid, wounded her bosom with\none of his arrows.  She pushed him away, but the wound was deeper\nthan she thought.  Before it healed she beheld Adonis, and was\ncaptivated with him.  She no longer took any interest in her\nfavorite resorts,   Paphos, and Cnidos, and Amathos, rich in\nmetals.  She absented herself even from Olympus, for Adonis was\ndearer to her than heaven.  Him she followed and bore him\ncompany.  She who used to love to recline in the shade, with no\ncare but to cultivate her charms, now rambled through the woods\nand over the hills, dressed like the huntress Diana.  She called\nher dogs, and chased hares and stags, or other game that it is\nsafe to hunt, but kept clear of the wolves and bears, reeking\nwith the slaughter of the herd.  She charged Adonis, too, to\nbeware of such dangerous animals.  \"Be brave towards the timid,\"\nsaid she; \"courage against the courageous is not safe.  Beware\nhow you expose yourself to danger, and put my happiness to risk.\nAttack not the beasts that Nature has armed with weapons.  I do\nnot value your glory so highly as to consent to purchase it by\nsuch exposure.  Your youth, and the beauty that charms Venus,\nwill not touch the hearts of lions and bristly boars.  Think of\ntheir terrible claws and prodigious strength!  I hate the whole\nrace of them.  Do you ask why?\"  Then she told him the story of\nAtalanta and Hippomenes, who were changed into lions for their\ningratitude to her.\n\nHaving given him this warning, she mounted her chariot drawn by\nswans, and drove away through the air.  But Adonis was too noble\nto heed such counsels.  The dogs had roused a wild boar from his\nlair, and the youth threw his spear and wounded the animal with a\nsidelong stroke.  The beast drew out the weapon with his jaws,\nand rushed after Adonis, who turned and ran; but the boar\novertook him, and buried his tusks in his side, and stretched him\ndying upon the plain.\n\nVenus, in her swan-drawn chariot, had not yet reached Cyprus,\nwhen she heard coming up through mid air the groans of her\nbeloved, and turned her white-winged coursers back to earth.  As\nshe drew near and saw from on high his lifeless body bathed in\nblood, she alighted, and bending over it beat her breast and tore\nher hair.  Reproaching the Fates, she said, \"Yet theirs shall be\nbut a partial triumph; memorials of my grief shall endure, and\nthe spectacle of your death, my Adonis, and of my lamentation\nshall be annually renewed.  Your blood shall be changed into a\nflower; that consolation none can envy me.\"  Thus speaking, she\nsprinkled nectar on the blood; and as they mingled, bubbles rose\nas in a pool on which raindrops fall, and in an hour's time there\nsprang up a flower of bloody hue like that of a pomegranate.  But\nit is short-lived.  It is said the wind blows the blossoms open,\nand afterwards blows the petals away; so it is called Anemone, or\nwind Flower, from the cause which assists equally in its\nproduction and its decay.\n\nMilton alludes to the story of Venus and Adonis in his Comus:\n\n  \"Beds of hyacinth and roses\n  Where young Adonis oft reposes,\n  Waxing well of his deep wound\n  In slumber soft, and on the ground\n  Sadly sits th'Assyrian queen.\"\n\nAnd Morris also in Atalanta's Race:\n\n  \"There by his horn the Dryads well might know\n  His thrust against the bear's heart had been true,\n  And there Adonis bane his javelin slew\"\n\n\nAPOLLO AND HYACINTHUS\n\nApollo was passionately fond of a youth named Hyacinthus.  He\naccompanied him in his sports, carried the nets when he went\nfishing, led the dogs when he went to hunt, followed him in his\nexcursions in the mountains, and neglected for him his lyre and\nhis arrows.  One day they played a game of quoits together, and\nApollo, heaving aloft the discus, with strength mingled with\nskill, sent it high and far.  Hyacinthus watched it as it flew,\nand excited with the sport ran forward to seize it, eager to make\nhis throw, when the quoit bounded from the earth and struck him\nin the forehead.  He fainted and fell.  The god, as pale as\nhimself, raised him and tried all his art to stanch the wound and\nretain the flitting life, but all in vain; the hurt was past the\npower of medicine.  As, when one has broken the stem of a lily in\nthe garden, it hangs its head and turns its flowers to the earth,\nso the head of the dying boy, as if too heavy for his neck, fell\nover on his shoulder.  \"Thou diest, Hyacinth,\" so spoke Phoebus,\n\"robbed of thy youth by me.  Thine is the suffering, mine the\ncrime.  Would that I could die for thee!  But since that may not\nbe thou shalt live with me in memory and in song.  My lyre shall\ncelebrate thee, my song shall tell thy fate, and thou shalt\nbecome a flower inscribed with my regrets.\"  While Apollo spoke,\nbehold the blood which had flowed on the ground and stained the\nherbage, ceased to be blood; but a flower of hue more beautiful\nthan the Tyrian sprang up, resembling the lily, if it were not\nthat this is purple and that silvery white (it is evidently not\nour modern hyacinth that is here described.  It is perhaps some\nspecies of iris, or perhaps of larkspur, or of pansy.)  And this\nwas not enough for Phoebus; but to confer still grater honor, he\nmarked the petals with his sorrow, and inscribed \"Ah!  Ah!\" upon\nthem, as we see to this day.  The flower bears the name of\nHyacinthus, and with every returning spring revives the memory of\nhis fate.\n\nIt was said that Zephyrus (the West-wind), who was also fond of\nHyacinthus and jealous of his preference of Apollo, blew the\nquoit out of its course to make it strike Hyacinthus.  Keats\nalludes to this in his Endymion, where he describes the lookers-\non at the game of quoits:\n\n  \"Or they might watch the quoit-pitchers, intent\n  On either side, pitying the sad death\n  Of Hyacinthus, when the cruel breath\n  Of Zephyr slew him; Zephyr penitent,\n  Who now ere Phoebus mounts the firmament,\n  Fondles the flower amid the sobbing rain.\"\n\nAn allusion to Hyacinthus will also be recognized in Milton's\nLycidas:\n\n  \"Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe.\"\n\n\nCEYX AND HALCYONE: OR, THE HALCYON BIRDS\n\nCeyx was King of Thessaly, where he reigned in peace without\nviolence or wrong.  He was son of Hesperus, the Day-star, and the\nglow of his beauty reminded one of his father.  Halcyone, the\ndaughter of Aeolus, was his wife, and devotedly attached to him.\nNow Ceyx was in deep affliction for the loss of his brother, and\ndireful prodigies following his brother's death made him feel as\nif the gods were hostile to him.  He thought best therefore to\nmake a voyage to Claros in Ionia, to consult the oracle of\nApollo.  But as soon as he disclosed his intention to his wife\nHalcyone, a shudder ran through her frame, and her face grew\ndeadly pale.  \"What fault of mine, dearest husband, has turned\nyour affection from me?  Where is that love of me that used to be\nuppermost in your thoughts?  Have you learned to feel easy in the\nabsence of Halcyone?  Would you rather have me away?\"  She also\nendeavored to discourage him, by describing the violence of the\nwinds, which she had known familiarly when she lived at home in\nher father's house, Aeolus being the god of the winds, and having\nas much as he could do to restrain them.  \"They rush together,\"\nsaid she, \"with such fury that fire flashes from the conflict.\nBut if you must go,\" she added, \"dear husband, let me go with\nyou, Otherwise I shall suffer, not only the real evils which you\nmust encounter, but those also which my fears suggest.\"\n\nThese words weighed heavily on the mind of king Ceyx, and it was\nno less his own wish than hers to take her with him, but he could\nnot bear to expose her to the dangers of the sea.  He answered,\ntherefore, consoling her as well as he could, and finished with\nthese words: \"I promise, by the rays of my father the Day-star,\nthat if fate permits I will return before the moon shall have\ntwice rounded her orb.\"  When he had thus spoken he ordered the\nvessel to be drawn out of the ship-house, and the oars and sails\nto be put aboard.  When Halcyone saw these preparations she\nshuddered, as if with a presentiment of evil.  With tears and\nsobs she said farewell, and then fell senseless to the ground.\n\nCeyx would still have lingered, but now the young men grasped\ntheir oars and pulled vigorously through the waves, with long and\nmeasured strokes.  Halcyone raised her streaming eyes, and saw\nher husband standing on the deck, waving his hand to her.  She\nanswered his signal till the vessel had receded so far that she\ncould no longer distinguish his form from the rest.  When the\nvessel itself could no more be seen, she strained her eyes to\ncatch the last glimmer of the sail, till that too disappeared.\nThen, retiring to her chamber, she threw herself on her solitary\ncouch.\n\nMeanwhile they glide out of the harbor, and the breeze plays\namong the ropes.  The seamen draw in their oars, and hoist their\nsails.  When half or less of their course was passed, as night\ndrew on, the sea began to whiten with swelling waves, and the\neast wind to blow a gale.  The master gives the word to take in\nsail, but the storm forbids obedience, for such is the roar of\nthe winds and waves that his orders are unheard.  The men, of\ntheir own accord, busy themselves to secure the oars, to\nstrengthen the ship, to reef the sail.  While they thus do what\nto each one seems best, the storm increases.  The shouting of the\nmen, the rattling of the shrouds, and the dashing of the waves,\nmingle with the roar of the thunder.  The swelling sea seems\nlifted up to the heavens, to scatter its foam among the clouds;\nthen sinking away to the bottom assumes the color of the shoal,\na Stygian blackness.\n\nThe vessel obeys all these changes.  It seems like a wild beast\nthat rushes on the spears of the hunters.  Rain falls in\ntorrents, as if the skies were coming down to unite with the sea.\nWhen the lightning ceases for a moment, the night seems to add\nits own darkness to that of the storm; then comes the flash,\nrending the darkness asunder, and lighting up all with a glare.\nSkill fails, courage sinks, and death seems to come on every\nwave.  The men are stupefied with terror.  The thought of\nparents, and kindred, and pledges left at home, comes over their\nminds.  Ceyx thinks of Halcyone.  No name but hers is on his\nlips, and while he yearns for her, he yet rejoices in her\nabsence.  Presently the mast is shattered by a stroke of\nlightning, the rudder broken, and the triumphant surge curling\nover looks down upon the wreck, then falls, and crushes it to\nfragments.  Some of the seamen, stunned by the stroke, sink, and\nrise no more; others cling to fragments of the wreck.  Ceyx, with\nthe hand that used to grasp the sceptre, holds fast to a plank,\ncalling for help,   alas, in vain,   upon his father and his\nfather-in-law.  But oftenest on his lips was the name of\nHalcyone.  His thoughts cling to her.  He prays that the waves\nmay bear his body to her sight, and that it may receive burial at\nher hands.  At length the waters overwhelm him, and he sinks.\nThe Day-star looked dim that night.  Since it could not leave the\nheavens, it shrouded its face with clouds.\n\nIn the mean while Halcyone, ignorant of all these horrors,\ncounted the days till her husband's promised return.  Now she\ngets ready the garments which he shall put on, and now what she\nshall wear when he arrives.  To all the gods she offers frequent\nincense but more than all to Juno.  For her husband, who was no\nmore, she prayed incessantly; that he might be safe; that he\nmight come home; that he might not, in his absence, see any one\nthat he would love better than her.  But of all these prayers,\nthe last was the only one destined to be granted.  The goddess,\nat length, could not bear any longer to be pleaded with for one\nalready dead, and to have hands raised to her altars, that ought\nrather to be offering funeral rites.  So, calling Iris, she said,\n\"Iris, my faithful messenger, go to the drowsy dwelling of\nSomnus, and tell him to send a vision to Halcyone, in the form of\nCeyx, to make known to her the event.\"\n\nIris puts on her robe of many colors, and tingeing the sky with\nher bow, seeks the palace of the King of Sleep. Near the\nCimmerian country, a mountain cave is the abode of the dull god,\nSomnus,  Here Phoebus dares not come, either rising, or at\nmidday, or setting.  Clouds and shadows are exhaled from the\nground, and the light glimmers faintly.  The bird of dawn, with\ncrested head, never calls aloud there to Aurora, nor watchful\ndog, nor more sagacious goose disturbs the silence.  (This\ncomparison of the dog and the goose is a reference by Ovid to a\npassage in Roman history.)  No wild beast, nor cattle, nor branch\nmoved with the wind, nor sound of human conversation, breaks the\nstillness.  Silence reigns there; and from the bottom of the rock\nthe River Lethe flows, and by its murmur invites to sleep.\nPoppies grow abundantly before the door of the cave, and other\nherbs, from whose juices Night collects slumbers, which she\nscatters over the darkened earth.  There is no gate to the\nmansion, to creak on its hinges, nor any watchman; but in the\nmidst, a couch of black ebony, adorned with black plumes and\nblack curtains.  There the god reclines, his limbs relaxed with\nsleep.  Around him lie dreams, resembling all various forms, as\nmany as the harvest bears stalks, or the forest leaves, or the\nseashore grains of sand.\n\nAs soon as the goddess entered and brushed away the dreams that\nhovered around her, her brightness lit up all the cave.  The god,\nscarce opening his eyes, and ever and anon dropping his beard\nupon his breast, at last shook himself free from himself, and\nleaning on his arm, inquired her errand,   for he knew who she\nwas.  She answered, \"Somnus, gentlest of the gods, tranquillizer\nof minds and soother of careworn hearts, Juno sends you her\ncommands that you dispatch a dream to Halcyone, in the city of\nTrachinae, representing her lost husband and all the events of\nthe wreck.\"\n\nHaving delivered her message, Iris hasted away, for she could not\nlonger endure the stagnant air, and as she felt drowsiness\ncreeping over her, she made her escape, and returned by her bow\nthe way she came.  Then Somnus called one of his numerous sons,\nMorpheus,   the most expert at counterfeiting forms, and in\nimitating the walk, the countenance, and mode of speaking, even\nthe clothes and attitudes most characteristic of each.  But he\nonly imitates men, leaving it to another to personate birds,\nbeasts, and serpents.  Him they call Icelos; and Phantasos is a\nthird, who turns himself into rocks, waters, woods, and other\nthings without life.  These wait upon kings and great personages\nin their sleeping hours, while others move among the common\npeople.  Somnus chose, from all the brothers, Morpheus, to\nperform the command of Iris; then laid his head on his pillow and\nyielded himself to grateful repose.\n\nMorpheus flew, making no noise with his wings, and soon came to\nthe Haemonian city, where, laying aside his wings, he assumed the\nform of Ceyx.  Under that form, but pale like a dead man, naked,\nhe stood before the couch of the wretched wife.  His beard seemed\nsoaked with water, and water trickled from his drowned locks.\nLeaning over the bed, tears streaming from his eyes, he said, \"Do\nyou recognize your Ceyx, unhappy wife, or has death too much\nchanged my visage?  Behold me, know me, your husband's shade,\ninstead of himself.  Your prayers, Halcyone, availed me nothing.\nI am dead.  No more deceive yourself with vain hopes of my\nreturn.  The stormy winds sunk my ship in the Aegean Sea; waves\nfilled my mouth while it called aloud on you.  No uncertain\nmessenger tells you this, no vague rumor brings it to your ears.\nI come in person, a shipwrecked man, to tell you my fate.  Arise!\nGive me tears, give me lamentations, let me not go down to\nTartarus unwept.\"  To these words Morpheus added the voice which\nseemed to be that of her husband; he seemed to pour forth genuine\ntears; his hands had the gestures of Ceyx.\n\nHalcyone, weeping, groaned, and stretched out her arms in her\nsleep, striving to embrace his body, but grasping only the air.\n\"Stay!\" she cried; \"whither do you fly?  Let us go together.\"\nHer own voice awakened her.  Starting up, she gazed eagerly\naround, to see if he was still present, for the servants, alarmed\nby her cries, had brought a light.  When she found him not, she\nsmote her breast and rent her garments.  She cares not to unbind\nher hair, but tears it wildly.  Her nurse asks what is the cause\nof her grief.  \"Halcyone is no more,\" she answers; \"she perished\nwith her Ceyx.  Utter not words of comfort, he is shipwrecked and\ndead.  I have seen him.  I have recognized him.  I stretched out\nmy hands to seize him and detain him.  His shade vanished, but it\nwas the true shade of my husband.  Not with the accustomed\nfeatures, not with the beauty that was his, but pale, naked, and\nwith his hair wet with sea-water, he appeared to wretched me.\nHere, in this very spot, the sad vision stood,\"   and she looked\nto find the mark of his footsteps.  \"This it was, this that my\npresaging mind foreboded, when I implored him not to leave me to\ntrust himself to the waves.  O, how I wish, since thou wouldst\ngo, that thou hadst taken me with thee!  It would have been far\nbetter.  Then I should have had no remnant of life to spend\nwithout thee, nor a separate death to die.  If I could bear to\nlive and struggle to endure, I should be more cruel to myself\nthan the sea has been to me.  But I will not struggle.  I will\nnot be separated from thee, unhappy husband.  This time, at least\nI will keep thee company.  In death, if one tomb may not include\nus, one epitaph shall; if I may not lay my ashes with thine, my\nname, at least, shall not be separated.\"  Her grief forbade more\nwords, and these were broken with tears and sobs.\n\nIt was now morning.  She went to the sea-shore, and sought the\nspot where she last saw him, on his departure.  \"Here he lingered\nand cast off his tacklings and gave me his last kiss.\"  While she\nreviews every moment, and strives to recall every incident,\nlooking out over the sea, she descries an indistinct object\nfloating in the water.  At first she was in doubt what it was,\nbut by degrees the waves bore it nearer, and it was plainly the\nbody of a man.  Though unknowing of whom, yet, as it was of some\nshipwrecked one, she was deeply moved, and gave it her tears,\nsaying, \"Alas!  Unhappy one, and unhappy, if such there be, thy\nwife!\"  Borne by the waves, it came nearer.  As she more and more\nnearly views it, she trembles more and more.  Now, now it\napproaches the shore.  Now marks that she recognizes appear.  It\nis her husband!  Stretching out her trembling hands towards it,\nshe exclaims, \"O, dearest husband, is it thus you return to me?\"\n\nThere was built out from the shore a mole, constructed to break\nthe assaults of the sea, and stem its violent ingress.  She\nleaped upon this barrier and (it was wonderful she could do so)\nshe flew, and striking the air with wings produced on the\ninstant, skimmed along the surface of the water, an unhappy bird.\nAs she flew, her throat poured forth sounds full of grief, and\nlike the voice of one lamenting.  When she touched the mute and\nbloodless body, she enfolded its beloved limbs with her new-\nformed wings, and tried to give kisses with her horny beak.\nWhether Ceyx felt it, or whether it was only the action of the\nwaves, those who looked on doubted, but the body seemed to raise\nits head.  But indeed he did feel it, and by the pitying gods\nboth of them were changed into birds.  They mate and have their\nyoung ones.  For seven placid days, in winter time, Halcyone\nbroods over her nest, which floats upon the sea.  Then the way is\nsafe to seamen.  Aeolus guards the winds, and keeps them from\ndisturbing the deep.  The sea is given up, for the time, to his\ngrandchildren.\n\nThe following lines from Byron's Bride of Abydos might seem\nborrowed from the concluding part of this description, if it were\nnot stated that the author derived the suggestion from observing\nthe motion of a floating corpse.\n\n  \"As shaken on his restless pillow,\n  His head heaves with the heaving billow;\n  That hand, whose motion is not life,\n  Yet feebly seems to menace strife,\n  Flung by the tossing tide on high,.\n  Then levelled with the wave  \"\n\nMilton, in his Hymn for the Nativity, thus alludes to the fable\nof the Halcyon:\n\n  \"But peaceful was the night\n  Wherein the Prince of light\n  His reign of peace upon the earth began;\n  The winds with wonder whist,\n  Smoothly the waters kist,\n  Whispering new joys to the mild ocean\n  Who now hath quite forgot to rave\n  While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave.\"\n\nKeats, also, in Endymion, says:\n\n  \"O magic sleep!  O comfortable bird\n  That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind\n  Till it is hushed and smooth.\"\n\n\n\nChapter VI\n\nVertumnus and Pomona.  Cupid and Psyche\n\nThe Hamadryads were Wood-nymphs.  Among them was Pomona, and no\none excelled her in love of the garden and the culture of fruit.\nShe cared not for forests and rivers, but loved the cultivated\ncountry and trees that bear delicious apples.  Her right hand\nbore for its weapon not a javelin, but a pruning knife.  Armed\nwith this, she worked at one time, to repress the too luxuriant\ngrowths, and curtail the branches that straggled out of place; at\nanother, to split the twig and insert therein a graft, making the\nbranch adopt a nursling not its own.  She took care, too, that\nher favorites should not suffer from drought, and led streams of\nwater by them that the thirsty roots might drink.  This\noccupation was her pursuit, her passion; and she was free from\nthat which Venus inspires.  She was not without fear of the\ncountry people, and kept her orchard locked, and allowed not men\nto enter.  The Fauns and Satyrs would have given all they\npossessed to win her, and so would old Sylvanus, who looks young\nfor his years, and Pan, who wears a garland of pine leaves around\nhis head.  But Vertumnus loved her best of all; yet he sped no\nbetter than the rest.  Oh, how often, in the disguise of a\nreaper, did he bring her corn in a basket, and looked the very\nimage of a reaper!  With a hay-band tied round him, one would\nthink he had just come from turning over the grass.  Sometimes he\nwould have an ox-goad in his hand, and you would have said he had\njust unyoked his weary oxen.  Now he bore a pruning-hook, and\npersonated a vine-dresser; and again with a ladder on his\nshoulder, he seemed as if he was going to gather apples.\nSometimes he trudged along as a discharged soldier, and again he\nbore a fishing-rod as if going to fish.  In this way, he gained\nadmission to her, again and again, and fed his passion with the\nsight of her.\n\nOne day he came in the guise of an old woman, her gray hair\nsurmounted with a cap, and a staff in her hand.  She entered the\ngarden and admired the fruit.  \"It does you credit, my dear,\" she\nsaid, and kissed Pomona, not exactly with an old woman's kiss.\nShe sat down on a bank, and looked up at the branches laden with\nfruit which hung over her.  Opposite was an elm entwined with a\nvine loaded with swelling grapes.  She praised the tree and its\nassociated vine, equally.  \"But,\" said Vertumnus, \"if the tree\nstood alone, and had no vine clinging to it, it would lie\nprostrate on the ground.  Why will you not take a lesson from the\ntree and the vine, and consent to unite yourself with some one?\nI wish you would.  Helen herself had not more numerous suitors,\nnor Penelope, the wife of shrewd Ulysses.  Even while you spurn\nthem, they court you  rural deities and others of every kind that\nfrequent these mountains.  But if you are prudent and want to\nmake a good alliance, and will let an old woman advise you,   who\nloves you better than you have any idea of,   dismiss all the\nrest and accept Vertumnus, on my recommendation.  I know him as\nwell as he knows himself.  He is not a wandering deity, but\nbelongs to these mountains.  Nor is he like too many of the\nlovers nowadays, who love any one they happen to see; he loves\nyou, and you only.  Add to this, he is young and handsome, and\nhas the art of assuming any shape he pleases, and can make\nhimself just what you command him.  Moreover, he loves the same\nthings that you do, delights in gardening, and handles your\napples with admiration.  But NOW he cares nothing for fruits, nor\nflowers, nor anything else, but only yourself.  Take pity on him,\nand fancy him speaking now with my mouth.  Remember that the gods\npunish cruelty, and that Venus hates a hard heart, and will visit\nsuch offenses sooner or later.  To prove this, let me tell you a\nstory, which is well known in Cyprus to be a fact; and I hope it\nwill have the effect to make you more merciful.\n\n\"Iphis was a young man of humble parentage, who saw and loved\nAnaxarete, a noble lady of the ancient family of Teucer.  He\nstruggled long with his passion, but when he found he could not\nsubdue it, he came a suppliant to her mansion.  First he told his\npassion to her nurse, and begged her as she loved her foster-\nchild to favor his suit.  And then he tried to win her domestics\nto his side.  Sometimes he committed his vows to written tablets,\nand often hung at her door garlands which he had moistened with\nhis tears.  He stretched himself on her threshold, and uttered\nhis complaints to the cruel bolts and bars.  She was deafer than\nthe surges which rise in the November gale; harder than steel\nfrom the German forges, or a rock that still clings to its native\ncliff.  She mocked and laughed at him, adding cruel words to her\nungentle treatment, and gave not the slightest gleam of hope.\n\n\"Iphis could not any longer endure the torments of hopeless love,\nand standing before her doors, he spake these last words:\n'Anaxarete, you have conquered, and shall no longer have to bear\nmy importunities.  Enjoy your triumph!  Sing songs of joy, and\nbind your forehead with laurel,   you have conquered!  I die;\nstony heart, rejoice!  This at least I can do to gratify you, and\nforce you to praise me; and thus shall I prove that the love of\nyou left me but with life.  Nor will I leave it to rumor to tell\nyou of my death.  I will come myself, and you shall see me die,\nand feast your eyes on the spectacle.  Yet, Oh, ye gods, who look\ndown on mortal woes, observe my fate!  I ask but this!  Let me be\nremembered in coming ages, and add those years to my name which\nyou have reft from my life.'  Thus he said, and, turning his pale\nface and weeping eyes towards her mansion, he fastened a rope to\nthe gate-post, on which he had hung garlands, and putting his\nhead into the noose, he murmured, 'This garland at least will\nplease you, cruel girl!'  And falling, hung suspended with his\nneck broken.  As he fell he struck against the gate, and the\nsound was as the sound of a groan.  The servants opened the door\nand found him dead, and with exclamations of pity raised him and\ncarried him home to his mother, for his father was not living.\nShe received the dead body of her son, and folded the cold form\nto her bosom; while she poured forth the sad words which bereaved\nmothers utter.  The mournful funeral passed through the town, and\nthe pale corpse was borne on a bier to the place of the funeral\npile.  By chance the home of Anaxarete was on the street where\nthe procession passed, and the lamentations of the mourners met\nthe ears of her whom the avenging deity had already marked for\npunishment.\n\n\"'Let us see this sad procession,' said she, and mounted to a\nturret, whence through an open window she looked upon the\nfuneral.  Scarce had her eyes rested upon the form of Iphis\nstretched on the bier, when they began to stiffen, and the warm\nblood in her body to become cold.  Endeavoring to step back, she\nfound she could not move her feet; trying to turn away her face,\nshe tried in vain; and by degrees all her limbs became stony like\nher heart.  That you may not doubt the fact, the statue still\nremains, and stands in the temple of Venus at Salamis, in the\nexact form of the lady.  Now think of these things, my dear, and\nlay aside your scorn and your delays, and accept a lover.  So may\nneither the vernal frosts blight your young fruits, nor furious\nwinds scatter your blossoms!\"\n\nWhen Vertumnus had spoken thus, he dropped the disguise of an old\nwoman, and stood before her in his proper person, as a comely\nyouth.  It appeared to her like the sun bursting through a cloud.\nHe would have renewed his entreaties, but there was no need; his\narguments and the sight of his true form prevailed, and the Nymph\nno longer resisted, but owned a mutual flame.\n\nPomona was the especial patroness of the apple-orchard, and as\nsuch she was invoked by Phillips, the author of a poem on Cider,\nin blank verse, in the following lines:\n\n  \"What soil the apple loves, what care is due\n  To orchats, timeliest when to press the fruits,\n  Thy gift, Pomona, in Miltonian verse\n  Adventurous I presume to sing.\"\n\nThomson, in the Seasons, alludes to Phillips:\n\n  \"Phillips, Pomona's bard, the second thou\n  Who nobly durst, in rhyme-unfettered verse,\n  With British freedom, sing the British song.\"\n\nIt will be seen that Thomson refers to the poet's reference to\nMilton, but it is not true that Phillips is only the second\nwriter of English blank verse.  Many other poets beside Milton\nhad used it long before Phillips' time.\n\nBut Pomona was also regarded as presiding over other fruits, and,\nas such, is invoked by Thomson:\n\n  \"Bear me, Pomona, to thy citron groves,\n  To where the lemon and the piercing lime,\n  With the deep orange, glowing through the green,\n  Their lighter glories blend.  Lay me reclined\n  Beneath the spreading tamarind, that shakes,\n  Fanned by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit.\"\n\n\nCUPID AND PSYCHE\n\nA certain king had three daughters.  (This seems to be one of the\nlatest fables of the Greek mythology.  It has not been found\nearlier than the close of the second century of the Christian\nera.  It bears marks of the higher religious notions of that\ntime.)  The two elder were charming girls, but the beauty of the\nyoungest was so wonderful that language is too poor to express\nits due praise.  The fame of her beauty was so great that\nstrangers from neighboring countries came in crowds to enjoy the\nsight, and looked on her with amazement, paying her that homage\nwhich is due only to Venus herself.  In fact, Venus found her\naltars deserted, while men turned their devotion to this young\nvirgin.  As she passed along, the people sang her praises, and\nstrewed her way with chaplets and flowers.\n\nThis perversion to a mortal of the homage due only to the\nimmortal powers gave great offence to the real Venus.  Shaking\nher ambrosial locks with indignation, she exclaimed, \"Am I then\nto be eclipsed in my honors by a mortal girl?  In vain then did\nthat royal shepherd, whose judgment was approved by Jove himself,\ngive me the palm of beauty over my illustrious rivals, Pallas and\nJune.  But she shall not so quietly usurp my honors.  I will give\nher cause to repent of so unlawful a beauty.\"\n\nThereupon she calls her winged son Cupid, mischievous enough in\nhis own nature, and rouses and provokes him yet more by her\ncomplaints.  She points out Psyche to him, and says, \"My dear\nson, punish that contumacious beauty; give thy mother a revenge\nas sweet as her injuries are great; infuse into the bosom of that\nhaughty girl a passion for some low, mean, unworthy being, so\nthat she may reap a mortification as great as her present\nexultation and triumph.\"\n\nCupid prepared to obey the commands of his mother.  There are two\nfountains in Venus's garden, one of sweet waters, the other of\nbitter.  Cupid filled two amber vases, one from each fountain,\nand suspending them from the top of his quiver, hastened to the\nchamber of Psyche, whom he found asleep.  He shed a few drops\nfrom the bitter fountain over her lips, though the sight of her\nalmost moved him to pity; then touched her side with the point of\nhis arrow.  At the touch she awoke, and opened eyes upon Cupid\n(himself invisible) which so startled him that in his confusion\nhe wounded himself with his own arrow.  Heedless of his wound his\nwhole thought now was to repair the mischief he had done, and he\npoured the balmy drops of joy over all her silken ringlets.\n\nPsyche, henceforth frowned upon by Venus, derived no benefit from\nall her charms.  True, all eyes were cast eagerly upon her, and\nevery mouth spoke her praises; but neither king, royal youth, nor\nplebeian presented himself to demand her in marriage.  Her two\nelder sisters of moderate charms had now long been married to two\nroyal princes; but Psyche, in her lonely apartment, deplored her\nsolitude, sick of that beauty, which, while it procured abundance\nof flattery, had failed to awaken love.\n\nHer parents, afraid that they had unwittingly incurred the anger\nof the gods, consulted the oracle of Apollo, and received this\nanswer: \"The virgin is destined for the bride of no mortal lover.\nHer future husband awaits her on the top of the mountain.  He is\na monster whom neither gods nor men can resist.\"\n\nThis dreadful decree of the oracle filled all the people with\ndismay, and her parents abandoned themselves to grief.  But\nPsyche said, \"Why, my dear parents, do you now lament me?  You\nshould rather have grieved when the people showered upon me\nundeserved honors, and with one voice called me a Venus.  I now\nperceive that I am a victim to that name.  I submit.  Lead me to\nthat rock to which my unhappy fate has destined me.\" Accordingly,\nall things being prepared, the royal maid took her place in the\nprocession, which more resembled a funeral than a nuptial pomp,\nand with her parents, amid the lamentations of the people,\nascended the mountain, on the summit of which they left her\nalone, and with sorrowful hearts returned home.\n\nWhile Psyche stood on the ridge of the mountain, panting with\nfear and with eyes full of tears, the gentle Zephyr raised her\nfrom the earth and bore her with an easy motion into a flowery\ndale.  By degrees her mind became composed, and she laid herself\ndown on the grassy bank to sleep.  When she awoke, refreshed with\nsleep, she looked round and beheld nearby a pleasant grove of\ntall and stately trees.  She entered it, and in the midst\ndiscovered a fountain, sending forth clear and crystal waters,\nand hard by, a magnificent palace whose August front impressed\nthe spectator that it was not the work of mortal hands, but the\nhappy retreat of some god.  Drawn by admiration and wonder, she\napproached the building and ventured to enter.  Every object she\nmet filled her with pleasure and amazement.  Golden pillars\nsupported the vaulted roof, and the walls were enriched with\ncarvings and paintings representing beasts of the chase and rural\nscenes, adapted to delight the eye of the beholder.  Proceeding\nonward she perceived that besides the apartments of state there\nwere others, filled with all manner of treasures, and beautiful\nand precious productions of nature and art.\n\nWhile her eyes were thus occupied, a voice addressed her, though\nshe saw no one, uttering these words: \"Sovereign lady, all that\nyou see is yours.  We whose voices you hear are your servants,\nand shall obey all your commands with our utmost care and\ndiligence.  Retire therefore to your chamber and repose on your\nbed of down, and when you see fit repair to the bath.  Supper\nwill await you in the adjoining alcove when it pleases you to\ntake your seat there.\"\n\nPsyche gave ear to the admonitions of her vocal attendants, and\nafter repose and the refreshment of the bath, seated herself in\nthe alcove, where a table immediately presented itself, without\nany visible aid from waiters or servants, and covered with the\ngreatest delicacies of food and the most nectareous wines.  Her\nears too were feasted with music from invisible performers; of\nwhom one sang, another played on the lute, and all closed in the\nwonderful harmony of a full chorus.\n\nShe had not yet seen her destined husband.  He came only in the\nhours of darkness, and fled before the dawn of morning, but his\naccents were full of love, and inspired a like passion in her.\nShe often begged him to stay and let her behold him, but he would\nnot consent.  On the contrary, he charged her to make no attempt\nto see him, for it was his pleasure, for the best of reasons, to\nkeep concealed.  \"Why should you wish to behold me?\" he said.\n\"Have you any doubt of my love?  Have you any wish ungratified?\nIf you saw me, perhaps you would fear me, perhaps adore me, but\nall I ask of you is to love me.  I would rather you would love me\nas an equal than adore me as a god.\"\n\nThis reasoning somewhat quieted Psyche for a time, and while the\nnovelty lasted she felt quite happy.  But at length the thought\nof her parents, left in ignorance of her fate, and of her\nsisters, precluded from sharing with her the delights of her\nsituation, preyed on her mind and made her begin to feel her\npalace as but a splendid prison.  When her husband came one\nnight, she told him her distress, and at last drew from him an\nunwilling consent that her sisters should be brought to see her.\n\nSo calling Zephyr, she acquainted him with her husband's\ncommands, and he, promptly obedient, soon brought them across the\nmountain down to their sister's valley.  They embraced her and\nshe returned their caresses.  \"Come,\" said Psyche, \"enter with me\nmy house and refresh yourselves with whatever your sister has to\noffer.\"  Then taking their hands she led them into her golden\npalace, and committed them to the care of her numerous train of\nattendant voices, to refresh them in her baths and at her table,\nand to show them all her treasures.  The view of these celestial\ndelights caused envy to enter their bosoms, at seeing their young\nsister possessed of such state and splendor, so much exceeding\ntheir own.\n\nThey asked her numberless questions, among others what sort of a\nperson her husband was.  Psyche replied that he was a beautiful\nyouth, who generally spent the daytime in hunting upon the\nmountains.  The sisters, not satisfied with this reply, soon made\nher confess that she had never seen him.  Then they proceeded to\nfill her bosom with dark suspicions.  \"Call to mind,\" they said,\n\"the Pythian oracle that declared you destined to marry a direful\nand tremendous monster.  The inhabitants of this valley say that\nyour husband is a terrible and monstrous serpent, who nourishes\nyou for a while with dainties that he may by and by devour you.\nTake our advice.  Provide yourself with a lamp and a sharp knife;\nput them in concealment that your husband may not discover them,\nand when he is sound asleep, slip out of bed bring forth your\nlamp and see for yourself whether what they say is true or not.\nIf it is, hesitate not to cut off the monster's head, and thereby\nrecover your liberty.\"\n\nPsyche resisted these persuasions as well as she could, but they\ndid not fail to have their effect on her mind, and when her\nsisters were gone, their words and her own curiosity were too\nstrong for her to resist.  So she prepared her lamp and a sharp\nknife, and hid them out of sight of her husband.  When he had\nfallen into his first sleep, she silently rose and uncovering her\nlamp beheld not a hideous monster, but the most beautiful and\ncharming of the gods, with his golden ringlets wandering over his\nsnowy neck and crimson cheek, with two dewy wings on his\nshoulders, whiter than snow, and with shining feathers like the\ntender blossoms of spring.  As she leaned the lamp over to have a\nnearer view of his face a drop of burning oil fell on the\nshoulder of the god, startled with which he opened his eyes and\nfixed them full upon her; then, without saying one word, he\nspread his white wings and flew out of the window.  Psyche, in\nvain endeavoring to follow him, fell from the window to the\nground.  Cupid, beholding her as she lay in the dust, stopped his\nflight for an instant and said, \"O foolish Psyche, is it thus you\nrepay my love?  After having disobeyed my mother's commands and\nmade you my wife, will you think me a monster and cut off my\nhead?  But go; return to your sisters, whose advice you seem to\nthink preferable to mine.  I inflict no other punishment on you\nthan to leave you forever.  Love cannot dwell with suspicion.\"\nSo saying he fled away, leaving poor Psyche prostrate on the\nground, filling the place with mournful lamentations.\n\nWhen she had recovered some degree of composure she looked around\nher, but the palace and gardens had vanished, and she found\nherself in the open field not far from the city where her sisters\ndwelt.  She repaired thither and told them the whole story of her\nmisfortunes, at which, pretending to grieve, those spiteful\ncreatures inwardly rejoiced; \"for now,\" said they, \"he will\nperhaps choose one of us.\"  With this idea, without saying a word\nof her intentions, each of them rose early the next morning and\nascended the mountain, and having reached the top, called upon\nZephyr to receive her and bear her to his lord; then leaping up,\nand not being sustained by Zephyr, fell down the precipice and\nwas dashed to pieces.\n\nPsyche meanwhile wandered day and night, without food or repose,\nin search of her husband.  Casting her eyes on a lofty mountain\nhaving on its brow a magnificent temple, she sighed and said to\nherself, \"Perhaps my love, my lord, inhabits there,\" and directed\nher steps thither.\n\nShe had no sooner entered than she saw heaps of corn, some in\nloose ears and some in sheaves, with mingled ears of barley.\nScattered about lay sickles and rakes, and all the instruments of\nharvest, without order, as if thrown carelessly out of the weary\nreapers' hands in the sultry hours of the day.\n\nThis unseemly confusion the pious Psyche put an end to, by\nseparating and sorting every thing to its proper place and kind,\nbelieving that she ought to neglect none of the gods, but\nendeavor by her piety to engage them all in her behalf.  The holy\nCeres, whose temple it was, finding her so religiously employed,\nthus spoke to her: \"O Psyche, truly worthy of our pity, though I\ncannot shield you from the frowns of Venus, yet I can teach you\nhow best to allay her displeasure.  Go then, voluntarily\nsurrender yourself to your lady and sovereign, and try by modesty\nand submission to win her forgiveness; perhaps her favor will\nrestore you the husband you have lost.\"\n\nPsyche obeyed the commands of Ceres and took her way to the\ntemple of Venus, endeavoring to fortify her mind and thinking of\nwhat she should say and how she should best propitiate the angry\ngoddess, feeling that the issue was doubtful and perhaps fatal.\n\nVenus received her with angry countenance.  \"Most undutiful and\nfaithless of servants,\" said she, \"do you at last remember that\nyou really have a mistress?  Or have you rather come to see your\nsick husband, yet suffering from the wound given him by his\nloving wife?  You are so ill-favored and disagreeable that the\nonly way you can merit your lover must be by dint of industry and\ndiligence.  I will make trial of your housewifery.\"  Then she\nordered Psyche to be led to the storehouse of her temple, where\nwas laid up a great quantity of wheat, barley, millet, vetches,\nbeans, and lentils prepared for food for her doves, and said,\n\"Take and separate all these grains, putting all of the same kind\nin a parcel by themselves, and see that you get it done before\nevening.\"  Then Venus departed and left her to her task.\n\nBut Psyche, in perfect consternation at the enormous work, sat\nstupid and silent, without moving a finger to the inextricable\nheap.\n\nWhile she sat despairing, Cupid stirred up the little ant, a\nnative of the fields, to take compassion on her.  The leader of\nthe ant-hill, followed by whole hosts of his six-legged subjects,\napproached the heap, and with the utmost diligence taking grain\nby grain, they separated the pile, sorting each kind to its\nparcel; and when it was all done, they vanished out of sight in a\nmoment.\n\nVenus at the approach of twilight returned from the banquet of\nthe gods, breathing odors and crowned with roses.  Seeing the\ntask done she exclaimed, \"This is no work of yours wicked one,\nbut his, whom to your own and his misfortune you have enticed.\"\nSo saying, she threw her a piece of black bread for her supper\nand went away.\n\nNext morning Venus ordered Psyche to be called, and said to her,\n\"Behold yonder grove which stretches along the margin of the\nwater.  There you will find sheep feeding without a shepherd,\nwith golden-shining fleeces on their backs.  Go, fetch me a\nsample of that precious wool gathered from every one of their\nfleeces.\n\nPsyche obediently went to the river-side, prepared to do her best\nto execute the command.  But the river-god inspired the reeds\nwith harmonious murmurs, which seemed to say, \"O maiden, severely\ntried, tempt not the dangerous flood, nor venture among the\nformidable rams on the other side, for as long as they are under\nthe influence of the rising sun, they burn with a cruel rage to\ndestroy mortals with their sharp horns or rude teeth.  But when\nthe noontide sun has driven the flock to the shade, and the\nserene spirit of the flood has lulled them to rest, you may then\ncross in safety, and you will find the woolly gold sticking to\nthe bushes and the trunks of the trees.\"\n\nThus the compassionate river-god gave Psyche instructions how to\naccomplish her task, and by observing his directions she soon\nreturned to Venus with her arms full of the golden fleece; but\nshe received not the approbation of her implacable mistress, who\nsaid, \"I know very well it is by none of your own doings that you\nhave succeeded in this task, and I am not satisfied yet that you\nhave any capacity to make yourself useful.  But I have another\ntask for you.  Here, take this box, and go your way to the\ninfernal shades, and give this box to Proserpine, and say, 'My\nmistress Venus desires you to send her a little of your beauty,\nfor in tending her sick son she has lost come of her own.'  Be\nnot too long on your errand, for I must paint myself with it to\nappear at the circle of the gods and goddesses this evening.\"\n\nPsyche was now satisfied that her destruction was at hand, being\nobliged to go with her own feet directly down to Erebus.\nWherefore, to make no delay of what was not to be avoided, she\ngoes to the top of a high tower to precipitate herself headlong,\nthus to descend the shortest way to the shades below.  But a\nvoice from the tower said to her, \"Why, poor unlucky girl, dost\nthou design to put an end to thy days in so dreadful a manner?\nAnd what cowardice makes thee sink under this last danger, who\nhast been so miraculously supported in all thy former?\"  Then the\nvoice told her how by a certain cave she might reach the realms\nof Pluto, and how to avoid all the dangers of the road, to pass\nby Cerberus, the three-headed dog, and prevail on Charon, the\nferryman, to take her across the black river and bring her back\nagain.  But the voice added, \"When Proserpine has given you the\nbox, filled with her beauty, of all things this is chiefly to be\nobserved by you, that you never once open or look into the box\nnor allow your curiosity to pry into the treasure of the beauty\nof the goddesses.\n\nPsyche encouraged by this advice obeyed it in all things, and\ntaking heed to her ways travelled safely to the kingdom of Pluto.\nShe was admitted to the palace of Proserpine, and without\naccepting the delicate seat or delicious banquet that was offered\nher, but contented with coarse bread for her food, she delivered\nher message from Venus.  Presently the box was returned to her,\nshut and filled with the precious commodity.  Then she returned\nthe way she came, and glad was she to come out once more into the\nlight of day.\n\nBut having got so far successfully through her dangerous task a\nlonging desire seized her to examine the contents of the box.\n\"What,\" said she, \"shall I, the carrier of this divine beauty,\nnot take the least bit to put on my cheeks to appear to more\nadvantage in the eyes of my beloved husband!:\" So she carefully\nopened the box, but found nothing there of any beauty at all, but\nan infernal and truly Stygian sleep, which being thus set free\nfrom its prison, took possession of her, and she fell down in the\nmidst of the road, a sleepy corpse without sense or motion.\n\nBut Cupid being now recovered from his wound, and not able longer\nto bear the absence of his beloved Psyche, slipping through the\nsmallest crack of the window of his chamber which happened to be\nleft open, flew to the spot where Psyche lay, and gathering up\nthe sleep from her body closed it again in the box, and waked\nPsyche with a light touch of one of his arrows.  \"Again,\" said\nhe, \"hast thou almost perished by the same curiosity.  But now\nperform exactly the task imposed on you by my mother, and I will\ntake care of the rest.\"\n\nThen Cupid, as swift as lightning penetrating the heights of\nheaven, presented himself before Jupiter with his supplication.\nJupiter lent a favoring ear, and pleaded the cause of the lovers\nso earnestly with Venus that he won her consent.  On this he sent\nMercury to bring Psyche up to the heavenly assembly, and when she\narrived, handing her a cup of ambrosia, he said, \"Drink this,\nPsyche, and be immortal; nor shall Cupid ever break away from the\nknot in which he is tied, but these nuptials shall be perpetual.\"\n\nThus Psyche became at last united to Cupid, and in due time they\nhad a daughter born to them whose name was Pleasure.\n\nThe fable of Cupid and Psyche is usually considered allegorical.\nThe Greek name for a butterfly is Psyche, and the same word means\nthe soul.  There is no illustration of the immortality of the\nsoul so striking and beautiful as the butterfly, bursting on\nbrilliant wings from the tomb in which it has lain, after a dull,\ngrovelling caterpillar existence, to flutter in the blaze of day\nand feed on the most fragrant and delicate productions of the\nspring.  Psyche, then, is the human soul, which is purified by\nsufferings and misfortunes, and is thus prepared for the\nenjoyment of true and pure happiness.\n\nIn works of art Psyche is represented as a maiden with the wings\nof a butterfly, alone or with Cupid, in the different situations\ndescribed in the allegory.\n\nMilton alludes to the story of Cupid and Psyche in the conclusion\nof his Comus:--\n\n  \"Celestial Cupid, her famed son, advanced,\n  Holds his dear Psyche sweet entranced,\n  After her wandering labors long,\n  Till free consent the gods among\n  Make her his eternal bride;\n And from her fair unspotted side\n  T wo blissful twins are to be born,\n  Youth and Joy; so Jove hath sworn.\"\n\nThe allegory of the story of Cupid and Psyche is well presented\nin the beautiful lines of T. K. Hervey:--\n\n  \"They wove bright fables in the days of old\n  When reason borrowed fancy's painted wings;\n  When truth's clear river flowed o'er sands of gold,\n  And told in song its high and mystic things!\n  And such the sweet and solemn tale of her\n  The pilgrim-heart, to whom a dream was given.\n  That led her through the world,   Love's worshipper,\n  To seek on earth for him whose home was heaven!\n\n  \"In the full city, by the haunted fount,\n  Through the dim grotto's tracery of spars,\n  'Mid the pine temples, on the moonlit mount,\n  Where silence sits to listen to the stars;\n  In the deep glade where dwells the brooding dove,\n  The painted valley, and the scented air,\n  She heard far echoes of the voice of Love,\n  And found his footsteps' traces everywhere.\n\n  \"But never more they met!  Since doubts and fears,\n  Those phantom-shapes that haunt and blight the earth,\n  Had come 'twixt her, a child of sin and tears,\n  And that bright spirit of immortal birth;\n  Until her pining soul and weeping eyes\n  Had learned to seek him only in the skies;\n  Till wings unto the weary heart were given,\n  And she became Love's angel bride in heaven!\"\n\nThe story of Cupid and Psyche first appears in the works of\nApuleius, a writer of the second century of our era.  It is\ntherefore of much more recent date than most of the legends of\nthe Age of Fable.  It is this that Keats alludes to in his Ode to\nPsyche.\n\n  \"O latest born and loveliest vision far\n  Of all Olympus' faded hierarchy!\n  Fairer than Phoebe's sapphire-regioned star\n  Or Vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky;\n  Fairer than these, though temple thou hast none,\n  Nor altar heaped with flowers;\n  Nor virgin-choir to make delicious moan\n  Upon the midnight hours;\n  No voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet,\n  From chain-swung censer teeming;\n  No shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat\n  Of Pale-mouthed prophet dreaming.\"\n\nIn Moore's Summer Fete, a fancy ball is described, in which one\nof the characters personated is Psyche.\n\n    \"not in dark disguise to-night\n  Hath our young heroine veiled her light;\n  For see, she walks the earth, Love's own.\n  His wedded bride, by holiest vow\n  Pledged in Olympus, and made known\n  To mortals by the type which now\n  Hangs glittering on her snowy brow,\n  That butterfly, mysterious trinket,\n  Which means the soul (though few would think it),\n  And sparkling thus on brow so white,\n  Tells us we've Psyche here to-night.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter VII\n\nCadmus.  The Myrmidons.\n\nJupiter, under the disguise of a bull, had carried away to the\nisland of Crete, Europa, the daughter of Agenor king of\nPhoenicia.  Agenor commanded his son Cadmus to go in search of\nhis sister, and not to return without her.  Cadmus went and\nsought long and far for his sister, but could not find her, and\nnot daring to return unsuccessful, consulted the oracle of Apollo\nto know what country he should settle in.  The oracle informed\nhim that he should find a cow in the field, and should follow her\nwherever she might wander, and where she stopped, should build a\ncity and call it Thebes.  Cadmus had hardly left the Castalian\ncave, from which the oracle was delivered, when he saw a young\ncow slowly walking before him.  He followed her close, offering\nat the same time his prayers to Phoebus.  The cow went on till\nshe passed the shallow channel of Cephisus and came out into the\nplain of Panope.  There she stood still, and raising her broad\nforehead to the sky, filled the air with her lowings.  Cadmus\ngave thanks, and stooping down kissed the foreign soil, then\nlifting his eyes, greeted the surrounding mountains. Wishing to\noffer a sacrifice to Jupiter, he sent his servants to seek pure\nwater for a libation.  Nearby there stood an ancient grove which\nhad never been profaned by the axe, in the midst of which was a\ncave, thick covered with the growth of bushes, its roof forming a\nlow arch, from beneath which burst forth a fountain of purest\nwater.  In the cave lurked a horrid serpent with a crested head\nand scales glittering like gold.  His eyes shone like fire, his\nbody was swollen with venom, he vibrated a triple tongue, and\nshowed a triple row of teeth.  No sooner had the Tyrians (Cadmus\nand his companions came from Tyre, the chief city of Phoenicia)\ndipped their pitchers in the fountain, and the ingushing waters\nmade a sound, than the glittering serpent raised his head out of\nthe cave and uttered a fearful hiss.  The vessels fell from their\nhands, the blood left their cheeks, they trembled in every limb.\nThe serpent, twisting his scaly body in a huge coil, raised his\nhead so as to overtop the tallest trees, and while the Tyrians\nfrom terror could neither fight nor fly, slew some with his\nfangs, others in his folds, and others with his poisonous breath.\n\nCadmus having waited for the return of his men till midday, went\nin search of them.  His covering was a lion's hide, and besides\nhis javelin he carried in his hand a lance, and in his breast a\nbold heart, a surer reliance than either.  When he entered the\nwood and saw the lifeless bodies of his men, and the monster with\nhis bloody jaws, he exclaimed, \"O faithful friends, I will avenge\nyou, or share your death.\"  So saying he lifted a huge stone and\nthrew it with all his force at the serpent.  Such a block would\nhave shaken the wall of a fortress, but it made no impression on\nthe monster.  Cadmus next threw his javelin, which met with\nbetter success, for it penetrated the serpent's scales, and\npierced through to his entrails.  Fierce with pain the monster\nturned back his head to view the wound, and attempted to draw out\nthe weapon with his mouth, but broke it off, leaving the iron\npoint rankling in his flesh.  His neck swelled with rage, bloody\nfoam covered his jaws, and the breath of his nostrils poisoned\nthe air around.  Now he twisted himself into a circle, then\nstretched himself out on the ground like the trunk of a fallen\ntree.  As he moved onward, Cadmus retreated before him, holding\nhis spear opposite to the monster's opened jaws.  The serpent\nsnapped at the weapon and attempted to bite its iron point.  At\nlast Cadmus, watching his chance, thrust the spear at a moment\nwhen the animal's thrown back came against the trunk of a tree,\nand so succeeded in pinning him to its side.  His weight bent the\ntree as he struggled in the agonies of death.\n\nWhile Cadmus stood over his conquered foe, contemplating its vast\nsize, a voice was heard (from whence he knew not, but he heard it\ndistinctly), commanding him to take the dragon's teeth and sow\nthem in the earth.  He obeyed.  He made a furrow in the ground,\nand planted the teeth, destined to produce a crop of men.  Scarce\nhad he done so when the clods began to move, and the points of\nspears to appear above the surface.  Next helmets, with their\nnodding plumes, came up, and next, the shoulders and breasts and\nlimbs of men with weapons, and in time a harvest of armed\nwarriors.  Cadmus, alarmed, prepared to encounter a new enemy,\nbut one of them said to him, \"Meddle not with our civil war.\"\nWith that he who had spoken smote one of his earth-born brothers\nwith a sword, and he himself fell pierced with an arrow from\nanother.  The latter fell victim to a fourth, and in like manner\nthe whole crowd dealt with each other till all fell slain with\nmutual wounds except five survivors.  One of these cast away his\nweapons and said, \"Brothers, let us live in peace!\"  These five\njoined with Cadmus in building his city, to which they gave the\nname of Thebes.\n\nCadmus obtained in marriage Harmonia, the daughter of Venus.  The\ngods left Olympus to honor the occasion with their presence, and\nVulcan presented the bride with a necklace of surpassing\nbrilliancy, his own workmanship.  But a fatality hung over the\nfamily of Cadmus in consequence of his killing the serpent sacred\nto Mars.  Semele and Ino, his daughters, and Actaeon and\nPentheius, his grandchildren, all perished unhappily; and Cadmus\nand Harmonia quitted Thebes, now grown odious to them, and\nemigrated to the country of the Enchelians, who received them\nwith honor and made Cadmus their king.  But the misfortunes of\ntheir children still weighed upon their minds; and one day Cadmus\nexclaimed, \"If a serpent's life is so dear to the gods, I would I\nwere myself a serpent.\"  No sooner had he uttered the words than\nhe began to change his form.  Harmonia beheld it, and prayed to\nthe gods to let her share his fate.  Both became serpents.  They\nlie in the woods, but mindful of their origin they neither avoid\nthe presence of man nor do they ever injure any one.\n\nThere is a tradition that Cadmus introduced into Greece the\nletters of the alphabet which were invented by the Phoenicians.\nThis is alluded to by Byron, where, addressing the modern Greeks,\nhe says:\n\n  \"You have the letters Cadmus gave,\n  Think you he meant them for a slave?\"\n\nMilton, describing the serpent which tempted Eve, is reminded of\nthe serpents of the classical stories, and says,\n\n  \"----pleasing was his shape,\n  And lovely; never since of serpent kind\n  Lovelier; not those that in Illyria changed\n  Hermione and Cadmus, nor the god\n  in Epidaurus.\"\n\nThe \"god in Epidaurus\" was AEsculapius.  Serpents were held\nsacred to him.\n\n\nTHE MYRMIDONS\n\nThe Myrmidons were the soldiers of Achilles in the Trojan war.\nFrom them all zealous and unscrupulous followers of a political\nchief are called by that name down to this day.  But the origin\nof the Myrmidons would not give one the idea of a fierce and\nbloody race, but rather of a laborious and peaceful one.\n\nCephalus, king of Athens, arrived in the island of AEgina to seek\nassistance of his old friend and ally AEacus, the king, in his\nwars with Minos, king of Crete.  Cephalus was kindly received,\nand the desired assistance readily promised.  \"I have people\nenough,\" said AEacus, \"to protect myself and spare you such a\nforce as you need.\"  \"I rejoice to see it,\" replied Cephalus,\n\"and my wonder has been raised, I confess, to find such a host of\nyouths as I see around me, all apparently of about the same age.\nYet there are many individuals whom I previously knew that I look\nfor now in vain.  What has become of them?\"  AEacus groaned, and\nreplied with a voice of sadness, \"I have been intending to tell\nyou, and will now do so without more delay, that you may see how\nfrom the saddest beginning a happy result sometimes flows.  Those\nwhom you formerly knew are now dust and ashes!  A plague sent by\nangry Juno devastated the land.  She hated it because it bore the\nname of one of her husband's female favorites.  While the disease\nappeared to spring from natural causes we resisted it as we best\nmight by natural remedies; but it soon appeared that the\npestilence was too powerful for our efforts, and we yielded.  At\nthe beginning the sky seemed to settle down upon the earth, and\nthick clouds shut in the heated air.  For four months together a\ndeadly south wind prevailed.  The disorder affected the wells and\nsprings; thousands of snakes crept over the land and shed their\npoison in the fountains.  The force of the disease was first\nspent on the lower animals; dogs, cattle, sheep, and birds.  The\nluckless ploughman wondered to see his oxen fall in the midst of\ntheir work, and lie helpless in the unfinished furrow.  The wool\nfell from the bleating sheep, and their bodies pined away.  The\nhorse, once foremost in the race, contested the palm no more, but\ngroaned at his stall, and died an inglorious death.  The wild\nboar forgot his rage, the stag his swiftness, the bears no longer\nattacked the herds.  Everything languished; dead bodies lay in\nthe roads, the fields, and the woods; the air was poisoned by\nthem.  I tell you what is hardly credible, but neither dogs nor\nbirds would touch them, nor starving wolves.  Their decay spread\nthe infection.  Next the disease attacked the country people, and\nthen the dwellers in the city.  At first the cheek was flushed,\nand the breath drawn with difficulty.  The tongue grew rough and\nswelled, and the dry mouth stood open with its veins enlarged and\ngasped for the air.  Men could not bear the heat of their clothes\nor their beds, but preferred to lie on the bare ground; and the\nground did not cool them, but on the contrary, they heated the\nspot where they lay.  Nor could the physicians help, for the\ndisease attacked them also, and the contact of the sick gave them\ninfection, so that the most faithful were the first victims.  At\nlast all hope of relief vanished and men learned to look upon\ndeath as the only deliverer from disease.  Then they gave way to\nevery inclination, and cared not to ask what was expedient, for\nnothing was expedient.  All restraint laid aside, they crowded\naround the wells and fountains, and drank till they died, without\nquenching thirst.  Many had not strength to get away from the\nwater, but died in the midst of the stream, and others would\ndrink of it notwithstanding.  Such was their weariness of their\nsick-beds that some would creep forth, and if not strong enough\nto stand, would die on the ground.  They seemed to hate their\nfriends, and got away from their homes, as if, not knowing the\ncause of their sickness, they charged it on the place of their\nabode.  Some were seen tottering along the road, as long as they\ncould stand, while others sank on the earth, and turned their\ndying eyes around to take a last look, then closed them in death.\n\n\"What heart had I left me, during all this, or what ought I to\nhave had, except to hate life and wish to be with my dead\nsubjects?  On all sides lay my people strewn like over-ripened\napples beneath the tree, or acorns under the storm-shaken oak.\nYou see yonder s temple on the height.  It is sacred to Jupiter.\nOh, how many offered prayers there; husbands for wives, fathers\nfor sons, and died in the very act of supplication!  How often,\nwhile the priest made ready for sacrifice, the victim fell,\nstruck down by disease without waiting for the blow.  At length\nall reverence for sacred things was lost.  Bodies were thrown out\nunburied, wood was wanting for funeral piles, men fought with one\nanother for the possession of them.  Finally there were none left\nto mourn; sons and husbands, old men and youths, perished alike\nunlamented.\n\n\"Standing before the altar I raised my eyes to heaven.  'Oh,\nJupiter,' I said, 'if thou art indeed my father, and art not\nashamed of thy offspring, give me back my people, or take me also\naway!'  At these words a clap of thunder was heard.  'I accept\nthe omen,' I cried; 'oh, may it be a sign of a favorable\ndisposition towards me!'  By chance there grew by the place where\nI stood an oak with wide-spreading branches, sacred to Jupiter.\nI observed a troop of ants busy with their labor, carrying minute\ngrains in their mouths and following one another in a line up the\ntrunk of the tree.  Observing their numbers with admiration, I\nsaid, 'Give me, oh father, citizens as numerous as these, and\nreplenish my empty city.'  The tree shook and gave a rustling\nsound with its branches though no wind agitated them.  I trembled\nin every limb, yet I kissed the earth and the tree.  I would not\nconfess to myself that I hoped, yet I did hope.  Night came on\nand sleep took possession of my frame oppressed with cares.  The\ntree stood before me in my dreams, with its numerous branches all\ncovered with living, moving creatures.  It seemed to shake its\nlimbs and throw down over the ground a multitude of those\nindustrious grain-gathering animals, which appeared to gain in\nsize, and grow larger, and by-and-by to stand erect, lay aside\ntheir superfluous legs and their black color, and finally to\nassume the human form.  Then I awoke, and my first impulse was to\nchide the gods who had robbed me of a sweet vision and given me\nno reality in its place.  Being still in the temple my attention\nwas caught by the sound of many voices without; a sound of late\nunusual to my ears.  While I began to think I was yet dreaming,\nTelamon, my son, throwing open the temple-gates, exclaimed,\n'Father, approach, and behold things surpassing even your hopes!'\nI went forth; I saw a multitude of men, such as I had seen in my\ndream, and they were passing in procession in the same manner.\nWhile I gazed with wonder and delight they approached, and\nkneeling, hailed me as their king.  I paid my vows to Jove, and\nproceeded to allot the vacant city to the new-born race, and to\nparcel out the fields among them.  I called them Myrmidons from\nthe ant (myrmex), from which they sprang.  You have seen these\npersons; their dispositions resemble those which they had in\ntheir former shape.  They are a diligent and industrious race,\neager to gain, and tenacious of their gains.  Among them you may\nrecruit your forces.  They will follow you to the war, young in\nyears and bold in heart.\"\n\nThis description of the plague is copied by Ovid from the account\nwhich Thucydides, the Greek historian, gives of the plague of\nAthens.  The historian drew from life, and all the poets and\nwriters of fiction since his day, when they have had occasion to\ndescribe a similar scene, have borrowed their details from him.\n\n\n\nChapter VIII\n\nNisus and Scylla.  Echo and Narcissus.  Clytie.  Hero and Leander\n\nMinos, king of Crete, made war upon Megara.  Nisus was king of\nMegara, and Scylla was his daughter.  The siege had now lasted\nsix months, and the city still held out, for it was decreed by\nfate that it should not be taken so long as a certain purple\nlock, which glittered among the hair of King Nisus, remained on\nhis head.  There was a tower on the city walls, which overlooked\nthe plain where Minos and his army were encamped.  To this tower\nScylla used to repair, and look abroad over the tents of the\nhostile army.  The siege had lasted so long that she had learned\nto distinguish the persons of the leaders.  Minos, in particular,\nexcited her admiration.  She admired his graceful deportment; if\nhe threw his javelin, skill seemed combined with force in the\ndischarge; if he drew his bow, Apollo himself could not have done\nit more gracefully.  But when he laid aside his helmet, and in\nhis purple robes bestrode his white horse with its gay\ncaparisons, and reined in its foaming mouth, the daughter of\nNisus was hardly mistress of herself; she was almost frantic with\nadmiration.  She envied the weapon that he grasped, the reins\nthat he held.  She felt as if she could, if it were possible, go\nto him through the hostile ranks; she felt an impulse to cast\nherself down from the tower into the midst of his camp, or to\nopen the gates to him, or do anything else, so only it might\ngratify Minos.  As she sat in the tower, she talked thus with\nherself: \"I know not whether to rejoice or grieve at this sad\nwar.  I grieve that Minos is our enemy; but I rejoice at any\ncause that brings him to my sight.  Perhaps he would be willing\nto grant us peace, and receive me as a hostage.  I would fly\ndown, if I could, and alight in his camp, and tell him that we\nyield ourselves to his mercy.  But, then, to betray my father!\nNo!  Rather would I never see Minos again.  And yet no doubt it\nis sometimes the best thing for a city to be conquered when the\nconqueror is clement and generous.  Minos certainly has right on\nhis side.  I think we shall be conquered; and if that must be the\nend of it, why should not love unbar the gates to him, instead of\nleaving it to be done by war?  Better spare delay and slaughter\nif we can.  And, oh, if any one should wound or kill Minos!  No\none surely would have the heart to do it; yet ignorantly, not\nknowing him, one might.  I will, I will surrender myself to him,\nwith my country as a dowry, and so put an end to the war.  But\nhow?  The gates are guarded, and my father keeps the keys; he\nonly stands in my way.  Oh, that it might please the gods to take\nhim away! But why ask the gods to do it?  Another woman, loving\nas I do, would remove with her own hands whatever stood in the\nway of her love.  And can any other woman dare more than I?  I\nwould encounter fire and sword to gain my object; but here there\nis no need of fire and sword.  I only need my father's purple\nlock.  More precious than gold to me, that will give me all I\nwish.\"\n\nWhile she thus reasoned night came on, and soon the whole palace\nwas buried in sleep.  She entered her father's bedchamber and cut\noff the fatal lock; then passed out of the city and entered the\nenemy's camp.  She demanded to be led to the king, and thus\naddressed him: \"I am Scylla, the daughter of Nisus.  I surrender\nto you my country and my father's house.  I ask no reward but\nyourself; for love of you I have done it.  See here the purple\nlock!  With this I give you my father and his kingdom.\"  She held\nout her hand with the fatal spoil.  Minos shrunk back and refused\nto touch it.  \"The gods destroy thee, infamous woman,\" he\nexclaimed; \"disgrace of our time!  May neither earth nor sea\nyield thee a resting place!  Surely, my Crete, where Jove himself\nwas cradled, shall not be polluted with such a monster!\"  Thus he\nsaid, and gave orders that equitable terms should be allowed to\nthe conquered city, and that the fleet should immediately sail\nfrom the island.\n\nScylla was frantic.  \"Ungrateful man,\" she exclaimed, \"is it thus\nyou leave me?   Me who have given you victory,   who have\nsacrificed for you parent and country!  I am guilty, I confess,\nand deserve to die, by not by your hand.\"  As the ships left the\nshore, she leaped into the water, and seizing the rudder of the\none which carried Minos, she was borne along an unwelcome\ncompanion of their course.  A sea-eagle soaring aloft,   it was\nher father who had been changed into that form,   seeing her,\npounced down upon her, and struck her with his beak and claws.\nIn terror she let go the ship, and would have fallen into the\nwater, but some pitying deity changed her into a bird.  The sea-\neagle still cherishes the old animosity; and whenever he espies\nher in his lofty flight, you may see him dart down upon her, with\nbeak and claws, to take vengeance for the ancient crime.\n\n\nECHO AND NARCISSUS\n\nEcho was a beautiful nymph, fond of the woods and hills, where\nshe devoted herself to woodland sports.  She was a favorite of\nDiana, and attended her in the chase.  But Echo had one failing;\nshe was fond of talking, and whether in chat or argument would\nhave the last word.  One day Juno was seeking her husband, who,\nshe had reason to fear, was amusing himself among the nymphs.\nEcho by her talk contrived to detain the goddess till the nymphs\nmade their escape.  When Juno discovered it, she passed sentence\nupon Echo in these words: \"You shall forfeit the use of that\ntongue with which you have cheated me, except for that one\npurpose you are so fond of   REPLY.  You shall still have the\nlast word, but no power to speak first.\"\n\nThis nymph saw Narcissus, a beautiful youth, as he pursued the\nchase upon the mountains.  She loved him, and followed his\nfootsteps.  Oh, how she longed to address him in the softest\naccents, and win him to converse, but it was not in her power.\nShe waited with impatience for him to speak first, and had her\nanswer ready.  One day the youth, being separated from his\ncompanions, shouted aloud, \"Who's here?\"  Echo replied, \"Here.\"\nNarcissus looked around, but seeing no one, called out, \"Come.\"\nEcho answered, \"Come.\"  As no one came, Narcissus called again,\n\"Why do you shun me?\"  Echo asked the same question.  \"Let us\njoin one another,\" said the youth.  The maid answered with all\nher heart in the same words, and hastened to the spot, ready to\nthrow her arms about his neck.  He started back, exclaiming,\n\"Hands off!  I would rather die than you should have me.\"  \"Have\nme,\" said she; but it was all in vain.  He left her, and she went\nto hide her blushes in the recesses of the woods.  From that time\nforth she lived in caves and among mountain cliffs.  Her form\nfaded with grief, till at last all her flesh shrank away.  Her\nbones were changed into rocks, and there was nothing left of her\nbut her voice.  With that she is still ready to reply to any one\nwho calls her, and keeps up her old habit of having the last\nword.\n\nNarcissus was cruel not in this case alone.  He shunned all the\nrest of the nymphs as he had done poor Echo.  One day a maiden,\nwho had in vain endeavored to attract him, uttered a prayer that\nhe might some time or other feel what it was to love and meet no\nreturn of affection.  The avenging goddess heard and granted the\nprayer.\n\nThere was a clear fountain, with water like silver, to which the\nshepherds never drove their flocks.  Nor did the mountain goats\nresort to it, nor any of the beasts of the forest; neither was it\ndefaced with fallen leaves or branches; but the grass grew fresh\naround it, and the rocks sheltered it from the sun.  Hither came\none day the youth fatigued with hunting, heated and thirsty.  He\nstooped down to drink, and saw his own image in the water; he\nthought it was some beautiful water=spirit living in the\nfountain.  He stood gazing with admiration at those bright eyes,\nthose locks curled like the locks of Bacchus or Apollo, the\nrounded cheeks, the ivory neck, the parted lips, and the glow of\nhealth and exercise over all.  He fell in love with himself.  He\nbrought his lips near to take a kiss; he plunged his arms in to\nembrace the beloved object.  It fled at the touch, but returned\nagain after a moment and renewed the fascination.  He could not\ntear himself away; he lost all thought of food or rest, while he\nhovered over the brink of the fountain gazing upon his own image.\nHe talked with the supposed spirit: \"Why, beautiful being, do you\nshun me?  Surely my face is not one to repel you.  The nymphs\nlove me, and you yourself look not indifferent upon me.  When I\nstretch forth my arms you do the same; and you smile upon me and\nanswer my beckonings with the like.\"  His tears fell into the\nwater and disturbed the image.  As he saw it depart, he\nexclaimed, \"Stay, I entreat you! Let me at least gaze upon you,\nif I may not touch you.\"   With this, and much more of the same\nkind, he cherished the flame that consumed him, so that by\ndegrees he lost his color, his vigor, and the beauty which\nformerly had so charmed the nymph Echo.  She kept near him,\nhowever, and when he exclaimed, \"Alas!  Alas!\" she answered him\nwith the same words.  He pined away and died; and when his shade\npassed the Stygian river, it leaned over the boat to catch a look\nof itself in the waters.  The nymphs mourned for him, especially\nthe water-nymphs; and when they smote their breasts, Echo smote\nhers also.  They prepared a funeral pile, and would have burned\nthe body, but it was nowhere to be found; but in its place a\nflower, purple within, and surrounded with white leaves, which\nbears the name and preserves the memory of Narcissus.\n\nMilton alludes to the story of Echo and Narcissus in the Lady's\nsong in Comus.  She is seeking her brothers in the forest, and\nsings to attract their attention.\n\n  \"Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen\n  Within thy aery shell\n  By slow Meander's margent green.\n  And in the violet-embroidered vale,\n  Where the love-lorn nightingale\n  Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well;\n  Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair\n  That likes thy Narcissus are?\n  Oh, if thou have\n  Hid them in some flowery cave,\n  Tell me but where,\n  Sweet queen of parly, daughter of the sphere,\n  So may'st thou be translated to the skies,\n  And give resounding grace to all heaven's harmonies.\"\n\nMilton has imitated the story of Narcissus in the account which\nhe makes Eve give of the first sight of herself reflected in the\nfountain:\n\n  \"That day I oft remember when from sleep\n  I first awaked, and found myself reposed\n  Under a shade on flowers, much wondering where\n  And what I was, whence thither brought, and how\n  Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound\n  Of waters issued from a cave, and spread\n  Into a liquid plain, then stood unmoved\n  Pure as the expanse of heaven; I thither went\n  With unexperienced thought, and laid me down\n  On the green bank, to look into the clear\n  Smooth lake that to me seemed another sky.\n  As I bent down to look, just opposite\n  A shape within the watery gleam appeared,\n  Bending to look on me.  I started back;\n  It started back; but pleased I soon returned,\n  Pleased it returned as soon with answering looks\n  Of sympathy and love.  There had I fixed\n  Mine eyes till now, and pined with vain desire,\n  Had not a voice thus warned me: 'What thou seest,\n  What there thou seest, fair creature, is thyself.'\"\n  Paradise Lost, Book IV\n\nThe fable of Narcissus is often alluded to by the poets.  Here\nare two epigrams which treat it in different ways.  The first is\nby Goldsmith:\n\n  \"ON A BEAUTIFUL YOUTH STRUCK BLIND BY LIGHTNING:\n\n  \"Sure 'twas by Providence designed,\n  Rather in pity than in hate,\n  That he should be like Cupid blind,\n  To save him from Narcissus' fate\"\n\nThe other is by Cowper:\n\n  \"ON AN UGLY FELLOW\n\n  \"Beware, my friend, of crystal brook\n  Or fountain, lest that hideous hook.\n  Thy nose, thou chance to see;\n  Narcissus' fate would then be thine,\n  And self-detested thou would'st pine,\n  As self-enamored he.\"\n\n\nCLYTIE\n\nClytie was a water-nymph and in love with Apollo, who made her no\nreturn.  So she pined away, sitting all day long upon the cold\nground, with her unbound tresses streaming over her shoulders.\nNine days she sat and tasted neither food nor drink, her own\ntears and the chilly dew her only food.  She gazed on the sun\nwhen he rose, and as he passed through his daily course to his\nsetting; she saw no other object, her face turned constantly on\nhim.  At last, they say, her limbs rooted in the ground, her face\nbecame a sunflower, which turns on its stem so as always to face\nthe sun throughout its daily course; for it retains to that\nextent the feeling of the nymph from whom it sprang.\n\nOne of the best known of the marble busts discovered in our own\ntime, generally bears the name of Clytie.  It has been very\nfrequently copied in plaster.  It represents the head of a young\ngirl looking down,   the neck and shoulders being supported in\nthe cup of a large flower,   which by a little effort of\nimagination can be made into a giant sunflower.  The latest\nsupposition, however, is that this bust represented not Clytie,\nbut Isis.\n\nHood in his Flowers thus alludes to Clytie:\n\n  \"I will not have the mad Clytie,\n  Whose head is turned by the sun;\n  The tulip is a courtly quean,\n  Whom therefore I will shun;\n  The cowslip is a country wench,\n  The violet is a nun;\n  But I will woo the dainty rose,\n  The queen of every one.\"\n\nThe sunflower is a favorite emblem of constancy.  Thus Moore uses\nit:\n\n  \"The heart that has truly loved never forgets,\n  But as truly loves on to the close;\n  As the sunflower turns on her god when he sets\n  The same look that she turned when he rose.\"\n\nIt is only for convenience that the modern poets translate the\nLatin word HELIOTROPIUM, by the English sunflower.  The\nsunflower, which was known to the ancients, was called in Greek,\nhelianthos, from HELIOS, the sun; and ANTHOS a flower, and in\nLatin, helianthus.  It derives its name from its resemblance to\nthe sun; but, as any one may see, at sunset, it does not \"turn to\nthe God when he sets the same look that it turned when he rose.\"\n\nThe Heliotrope of the fable of Clytie is called Turn-sole in old\nEnglish books, and such a plant is known in England.  It is not\nthe sweet heliotrope of modern gardens, which is a South American\nplant.  The true classical heliotrope is probably to be found in\nthe heliotrope of southern France,   a weed not known in America.\nThe reader who is curious may examine the careful account of it\nin Larousse's large dictionary.\n\n\nHERO AND LEANDER\n\nLeander was a youth of Abydos, a town of the Asian side of the\nstrait which separates Asia and Europe.  On the opposite shore in\nthe town of Sestos lived the maiden Hero, a priestess of Venus.\nLeander loved her, and used to swim the strait nightly to enjoy\nthe company of his mistress, guided by a torch which she reared\nupon the tower, for the purpose.  But one night a tempest arose\nand the sea was rough; his strength failed, and he was drowned.\nThe waves bore his body to the European shore, where Hero became\naware of his death, and in her despair cast herself down from the\ntower into the sea and perished.\n\nThe following sonnet is by Keats:\n\n  \"ON A PICTURE OF LEANDER\n\n  \"Come hither, all sweet maidens, soberly,\n  Down looking aye, and with a chasten'd light,\n  Hid in the fringes of your eyelids white,\n  And meekly let your fair hands joined be,\n  As if so gentle that ye could not see,\n  Untouch'd, a victim of your beauty bright,\n  Sinking away to his young spirit's night,\n  Sinking bewilder'd 'mid the dreary sea.\n  'Tis young Leander toiling to his death.\n  Nigh swooning, he doth purse his weary lips\n  For Hero's cheek, and smiles against her smile.\n  Oh, horrid dream!  See how his body dips\n  Dead-heavy; arms and shoulders gleam awhile;\n  He's gone; up bubbles all his amorous breath!\"\n\nThe story of Leander's swimming the Hellespont was looked upon as\nfabulous, and the feat considered impossible, till Lord Byron\nproved its possibility by performing it himself.  In the Bride of\nAbydos he says,\n\n  \"These limbs that buoyant wave hath borne.\"\n\nThe distance in the narrowest part is almost a mile, and there is\na constant current setting out from the Sea of Marmora into the\nArchipelago.  Since Byron's time the feat has been achieved by\nothers; but it yet remains a test of strength and skill in the\nart of swimming sufficient to give a wide and lasting celebrity\nto any one of our readers who may dare to make the attempt and\nsucceed in accomplishing it.\n\nIn the beginning of the second canto of the same poem, Byron\nalludes to this story:\n\n  \"The winds are high on Helle's wave,\n  As on that night of stormiest water,\n  When Love, who sent, forgot to save\n  The young, the beautiful, the brave,\n  The lonely hope of Sestos' daughter.\n  Oh, when alone along the sky\n  The turret-torch was blazing high,\n  Though rising gale and breaking foam,\n  And shrieking sea-birds warned him home;\n  And clouds aloft and tides below,\n  With signs and sounds forbade to go,\n  He could not see, he would not hear\n  Or sound or sight foreboding fear.\n  His eye but saw that light of love,\n  The only star it hailed above;\n  His ear but rang with Hero's song,\n  'Ye waves, divide not lovers long.'\n  That tale is old, but love anew\n  May nerve young hearts to prove as true.\"\n\nThe subject has been a favorite one with sculptors.\n\nSchiller has made one of his finest ballads from the tragic fate\nof the two lovers.  The following verses are a translation from\nthe latter part of the ballad:\n\n  \"Upon Hellespont's broad currents\n  Night broods black, and rain in torrents\n  From the cloud's full bosom pours;\n  Lightnings in the sky are flashing,\n  All the storms below are dashing\n  On the crag-piled shores.\n  Awful chasms gaping widely,\n  Separate the mountain waves;\n  Ocean yawning as to open\n  Downward e'en to Pluto's caves.\"\n\nAfter the storm has arisen, Hero sees the danger, and cries,\n\n  \"Woe, ah!  Woe; great Jove have pity,\n  Listen to my sad entreaty,\n  Yet for what can Hero pray?\n  Should the gods in pity listen,\n  He, e'en now the false abyss in,\n  Struggles with the tempest's spray.\n  All the birds that skim the wave\n  In hasty flight are hieing home;\n  T the lee of safer haven\n  All the storm-tossed vessels come.\n\n  \"Ah!  I know he laughs at danger,\n  Dares again the frequent venture,\n  Lured by an almighty power;\n  For he swore it when we parted,\n  With the vow which binds true-hearted\n  Lovers to the latest hour.\n  Yes!  Even as this moment hastens\n  Battles he the wave-crests rude,\n  And to their unfathomed chasms\n  Dags him down the angry flood.\n\n  \"Pontus false!  Thy sunny smile\n  Was the lying traitor's guile,\n  Like a mirror flashing there:\n  All thy ripples gently playing\n  Til they triumphed in betraying\n  Him into thy lying snare.\n  Now in thy mid-current yonder,\n  Onward still his course he urges,\n  Thou the false, on him the fated\n  Pouring loose thy terror-surges.\n  Waxes high the tempest's danger,\n  Waves to mountains rise in anger,\n  Oceans swell, and breakers dash,\n  Foaming, over cliffs of rock\n  Where even navies, stiff with oak,\n  Could not bear the crash.\n  In the gale her torch is blasted,\n  Beacon of the hoped-for strand;\n  Horror broods above the waters,\n  Horror broods above the land.\n\n  Prays she Venus to assuage\n  The hurricane's increasing rage,\n  And to sooth the billows' scorn.\n  And as gale on gale arises,\n  Vows to each as sacrifices\n  Spotless steer with gilded horn.\n  To all the goddesses below,\n  To \"all the gods in heaven that be,\"\n  She prays that oil of peace may flow\n  Softly on the storm-tossed sea.\n\n  Blest Leucothea, befriend me!\n  From cerulean halls attend me;\n  Hear my prayer of agony.\n  In the ocean desert's raving,\n  Storm-tossed seamen, succor craving,\n  Find in thee their helper nigh.\n  Wrap him in thy charmed veil,\n  Secret spun and secret wove,\n  Certain from the deepest wave\n  To lift him to its crests above.\"\n\n  Now the tempests wild are sleeping,\n  And from the horizon creeping\n  Rays of morning streak the skies,\n  Peaceful as it lay before\n  The placid sea reflects the shore,\n  Skies kiss waves and waves the skies.\n  Little ripples, lightly plashing,\n  Break upon the rock-bound strand,\n  And they trickle, lightly playing\n  O'er a corpse upon the sand.\n\n  Yes, 'tis he!  Although he perished,\n  Still his sacred troth he cherished,\n  An instant's glance tells all to her;\n  Not a tear her eye lets slip\n  Not a murmur leaves her lip;\n  Down she looks in cold despair;\n  Gazes round the desert sea,\n  Trustless gazes round the sky,\n  Flashes then of noble fire\n  Through her pallid visage fly!\n\n  \"Yes, I know, ye mighty powers,\n  Ye have drawn the fated hours\n  Pitiless and cruel on.\n  Early full my course is over.\n  Such a course with such a lover;\n  Such a share of joy I've known.\n  Venus, queen, within thy temple,\n  Thou hast known me vowed as thine,\n  Now accept thy willing priestess\n  As an offering at thy shrine.\"\n\n  Downward then, while all in vain her\n  Fluttering robes would still sustain her,\n  Springs she into Pontus' wave;\n  Grasping him and her, the god\n  Whirls them in his deepest flood,\n  And, himself, becomes their grave.\n  With his prizes then contented,\n  Peaceful bids his waters glide,\n  From the unexhausted vessels,\n  Whence there streams an endless tide.\n\n\n\nChapter IX\n\nMinerva and Arachne.  Niobe.  The Story of Perseus\n\nMinerva, the goddess of wisdom, was the daughter of Jupiter.\nShe, they say, sprang forth from his brain full grown and clad in\ncomplete armor.  She presided over the useful and ornamental\narts, both those of men,   such as agriculture and navigation,\nand those of women,   spinning, weaving, and needle-work.  She\nwas also a warlike divinity; but a lover of defensive war only.\nShe had no sympathy with Mars's savage love of violence and\nbloodshed.  Athens was her chosen seat, her own city, awarded to\nher as the prize of a contest with Neptune, who also aspired to\nit.  The tale ran that in the reign of Cecrops, the first king of\nAthens, the two deities contended for the possession of the city.\nThe gods decreed that it should be awarded to that one who\nproduced the gift most useful to mortals.  Neptune gave the\nhorse; Minerva produced the olive.  The gods gave judgment that\nthe olive was the more useful of the two, and awarded the city to\nthe goddess; and it was named after her, Athens, her name in\nGreek being Athene.\n\nIn another contest, a mortal dared to come in competition with\nMinerva.  That mortal was Arachne, a maiden who had attained such\nskill in the arts of weaving and embroidery that the nymphs\nthemselves would leave their groves and fountains to come and\ngaze upon her work.  It was not only beautiful when it was done,\nbut beautiful also in the doing. To watch her, as she took the\nwool in its rude state and formed it into rolls, or separated it\nwith her fingers and carded it till it looked as light and soft\nas a cloud, or twirled the spindle with skilful touch, or wove\nthe web, or, when woven, adorned it with her needle, one would\nhave said that Minerva herself had taught her.  But this she\ndenied, and could not bear to be thought a pupil even of a\ngoddess.  \"Let Minerva try her skill with mine,\" said she; \"if\nbeaten, I will pay the penalty.\"  Minerva heard this and was\ndispleased.  Assuming the form of an old woman, she went and gave\nArachne some friendly advice.  \"I have had much experience,: said\nshe, \"and I hope you will not despise my counsel.  Challenge your\nfellow-mortals as you will, but do not compete with a goddess.\nOn the contrary, I advise you to ask her forgiveness for what you\nhave said, and, as she is merciful, perhaps she will pardon you.\"\nArachne stopped her spinning, and looked at the old dame with\nanger in her countenance.  \"Keep your counsel,\" said she, \"for\nyour daughters or handmaids; for my part, I know what I say, and\nI stand to it.  I am not afraid of the goddess; let her try her\nskill, if she dare venture.\"  \"She comes,\" said Minerva; and\ndropping her disguise, stood confessed.  The nymphs bent low in\nhomage, and all the bystanders paid reverence.  Arachne alone was\nunterrified.  She blushed, indeed; a sudden color dyed her cheek,\nand then she grew pale.  But she stood to her resolve, and with a\nfoolish conceit of her own skill rushed on her fate.  Minerva\nforbore no longer, nor interposed any further advice.  They\nproceed to the contest.  Each takes her station and attaches the\nweb to the beam.  Then the slender shuttle is passed in and out\namong the threads.  The reed with its fine teeth strikes up the\nwoof into its place and compacts the web.  Both work with speed;\ntheir skilful hands move rapidly, and the excitement of the\ncontest makes the labor light.  Wool of Tyrian dye is contrasted\nwith that of other colors, shaded off into one another so\nadroitly that the joining deceives the eye.  Like the bow, whose\nlong arch tinges the heavens, formed by sunbeams reflected from\nthe shower (this description of the rainbow is literally\ntranslated rom Ovid), in which, where the colors meet they seem\nas one, but at a little distance from the point of contact are\nwholly different.\n\nMinerva wrought on her web the scene of her contest with Neptune.\nTwelve of the heavenly powers are represented, Jupiter, with\nAugust gravity, sitting in the midst.  Neptune, the ruler of the\nsea, holds his trident, and appears to have just smitten the\nearth, from which a horse has leaped forth.  Minerva depicted\nherself with helmed head, her AEgis covering her breast.  Such\nwas the central circle; and in the four corners were represented\nincidents illustrating the displeasure of the gods at such\npresumptuous mortals as had dared to contend with them.  These\nwere meant as warnings to her rival to give up the contest before\nit was too late.\n\nArachne filled her web with subjects designedly chosen to exhibit\nthe failings and errors of the gods.  One scene represented Leda\ncaressing the swan, under which form Jupiter had disguised\nhimself; and another, Danae, in the brazen tower in which her\nfather had imprisoned her, but where the god effected his\nentrance in the form of a shower of gold.  Still another depicted\nEuropa deceived by Jupiter under the disguise of a bull.\nEncouraged by the tameness of the animal, Europa ventured to\nmount his back, whereupon Jupiter advanced into the sea, and swam\nwith her to Crete.  You would have thought it was a real bull so\nnaturally was it wrought, and so natural was the water in which\nit swam.  She seemed to look with longing eyes back upon the\nshore she was leaving, and to call to her companions for help.\nShe appeared to shudder with terror at the sight of the heaving\nwaves, and to draw back her feet from the water.\n\nArachne filled her canvas with these and like subjects,\nwonderfully well done, but strongly marking her presumption and\nimpiety.  Minerva could not forbear to admire, yet felt indignant\nat the insult.  She struck the web with her shuttle, and rent it\nin pieces; she then touched the forehead of Arachne, and made her\nfeel her guilt and shame.  She could not endure it, and went and\nhanged herself.  Minerva pitied her as she saw her hanging by a\nrope.  \"Live, guilty woman,\" said she; \" and that you may\npreserve the memory of this lesson, continue to hang, you and\nyour descendants, to all future times.\"  She sprinkled her with\nthe juices of aconite, and immediately her hair came off, and her\nnose and ears likewise.  Her form shrank up, and her head grew\nsmaller yet; her fingers grew to her side, and served for legs.\nAll the rest of her is body, out of which she spins her thread,\noften hanging suspended by it, in the same attitude as when\nMinerva touched her and transformed her into a spider.\n\nSpenser tells the story of Arachne in his Muiopotmos, adhering\nvery closely to his master Ovid, but improving upon him in the\nconclusion of the story.  The two stanzas which follow tell what\nwas done after the goddess had depicted her creation of the olive\ntree:\n\n  \"Amongst these leaves she made a Butterfly,\n  With excellent device and wondrous slight,\n  Fluttering among the olives wantonly,\n  That seemed to live, so like it was in sight;\n  The velvet nap which on his wings doth lie,\n  The silken down with which his back is dight,\n  His broad outstretched horns, his hairy thighs,\n  His glorious colors, and his glistening eyes.\"\n\n  \"Which when Arachne saw, as overlaid\n  And mastered with workmanship so rare.\n  She stood astonished long, ne aught gainsaid;\n  And with fast-fixed eyes on her did stare,\n  And by her silence, sign of one dismayed,\n  The victory did yield her as her share;\n  Yet did she inly fret and felly burn,\n  And all her blood to poisonous rancor turn.\"\n\nAnd so the metamorphosis is caused by Arachne's own mortification\nand vexation, and not by any direct act of the goddess.\n\nThe following specimen of old-fashioned gallantry is by Garrick:\n\n\n  UPON A LADY'S EMBROIDERY\n\n  \"Arachne once, as poets tell,\n  A goddess at her art defied,\n  And soon the daring mortal fell\n  The hapless victim of her pride.\n\n  \"Oh, then, beware Arachne's fate;\n  Be prudent, Chloe, and submit,\n  For you'll most surely meet her hate,\n  Who rival both her art and wit.\"\n\nTennyson, in his Palace of Art, describing the works of art with\nwhich the palace was adorned, thus alludes to Europa:\n\n  \"---- sweet Europa's mantle blew unclasped\n  From off her shoulder, backward borne,\n  From one hand drooped a crocus, one hand grasped\n  The mild bull's golden horn.\"\n\nIn his Princess there is this allusion to Danae:\n\n  \"Now lies the earth all Danae to the stars,\n  And all thy heart lies open unto me.\"\n\n\nNIOBE\n\nThe fate of Arachne was noised abroad through all the country,\nand served as a warning to all presumptuous mortals not to\ncompare themselves with the divinities.  But one, and she a\nmatron too, failed to learn the lesson of humility.  It was\nNiobe, the queen of Thebes.  She had indeed much to be proud of;\nbut it was not her husband's fame, nor her own beauty, nor their\ngreat descent, nor the power of their kingdom that elated her.\nIt was her children; and truly the happiest of mothers would\nNiobe have been, if only she had not claimed to be so.  It was on\noccasion of the annual celebration in honor of Latona and her\noffspring,   Apollo and Diana,   when the people of Thebes were\nassembled, their brows crowned with laurel, bearing frankincense\nto the altars and paying their vows,   that Niobe appeared among\nthe crowd.  Her attire was splendid with gold and gems, and her\nface as beautiful as the face of an angry woman can be.  She\nstood and surveyed the people with haughty looks.  \"What folly,\"\nsaid she, \"is this!   to prefer beings whom you never saw to\nthose who stand before your eyes!  Why should Latona be honored\nwith worship rather than I?  My father was Tantalus, who was\nreceived as a guest at the table of the gods; my mother was a\ngoddess.  My husband built and rules this city, Thebes; and\nPhrygia is my paternal inheritance.  Wherever I turn my eyes I\nsurvey the elements of my power; nor is my form and presence\nunworthy of a goddess.  To all this let me add, I have seven sons\nand seven daughters, and look for sons-in-law and daughters-in-\nlaw of pretensions worthy of my alliance.  Have I not cause for\npride?  Will you prefer to me this Latona, the Titan's daughter,\nwith her two children?  I have seven times as many.  Fortunate\nindeed am I, and fortunate I shall remain!  Will any one deny\nthis?  My abundance is my security.  I feel myself too strong for\nFortune to subdue.  She may take from me much; I shall still have\nmuch left.  Were I to lose some of my children, I should hardly\nbe left as poor as Latona with her two only.  Away with you from\nthese solemnities,   put off the laurel from your brows,   have\ndone with this worship!\"  The people obeyed, and left the sacred\nservices uncompleted.\n\nThe goddess was indignant.  On top of Mount Cynthus where she\ndwelt, she thus addressed her son and daughter: \"My children, I\nwho have been so proud of you both, and have been used to hold\nmyself second to none of the goddesses except Juno alone, begin\nnow to doubt whether I am indeed a goddess.  I shall be deprived\nof my worship altogether unless you protect me.\"  She was\nproceeding in this strain, but Apollo interrupted her.  \"Say no\nmore,\" said he; \"speech only delays punishment.\"  So said Diana\nalso.  Darting through the air, veiled in clouds, they alighted\non the towers of the city.  Spread out before the gates was a\nbroad plain, where the youth of the city pursued their warlike\nsports.  The sons of Niobe were there among the rest,   some\nmounted on spirited horses richly caparisoned, some driving gay\nchariots.  Ismenos, the first-born, as he guided his foaming\nsteeds, struck with an arrow from above, cried out, \"Ah, me!\"\ndropped the reins and fell lifeless.  Another, hearing the sound\nof the bow,   like a boatman who sees the storm gathering and\nmakes all sail for the port,   gave the rein to his horses and\nattempted to escape.  The inevitable arrow overtook him as he\nfled.  Two others, younger boys, just from their tasks, had gone\nto the playground to have a game of wrestling.  As they stood\nbreast to breast, one arrow pierced them both.  They uttered a\ncry together, together cast a parting look around them, and\ntogether breathed their last.  Alphenor, an elder brother, seeing\nthem fall, hastened to the spot to render them assistance, and\nfell stricken in the act of brotherly duty.  One only was left,\nIlioneus.  He raised his arms to heaven to try whether prayer\nmight not avail.  \"Spare me, ye gods!\" he cried, addressing all,\nin his ignorance that all needed not his intercession; and Apollo\nwould have spared him, but the arrow had already left the string,\nand it was too late.\n\nThe terror of the people and grief of the attendants soon made\nNiobe acquainted with what had taken place.  She could hardly\nthink it possible; she was indignant that the gods had dared and\namazed that they had been able to do it.  Her husband, Amphion,\noverwhelmed with the blow, destroyed himself.  Alas!  How\ndifferent was this Niobe from her who had so lately driven away\nthe people from the sacred rites, and held her stately course\nthrough the city, the envy of her friends, now the pity even of\nher foes!  She knelt over the lifeless bodies, and kissed, now\none, now another of her dead sons.  Raising her pallid arms to\nheaven, \"Cruel Latona,\" said she, \"feed full your rage with my\nanguish!  Satiate your hard heart, while I follow to the grave my\nseven sons.  Yet where is your triumph?  Bereaved as I am, I am\nstill richer than you, my conqueror.  Scarce had she spoken when\nthe bow sounded and struck terror into all hearts except Niobe's\nalone.  She was brave from excess of grief.  The sisters stood in\ngarments of mourning over the biers of their dead brothers.  One\nfell, struck by an arrow, and died on the corpse she was\nbewailing.  Another, attempting to console her mother, suddenly\nceased to speak, and sank lifeless to the earth.  A third tried\nto escape by flight, a fourth by concealment, another stood\ntrembling, uncertain what course to take.  Six were now dead, and\nonly one remained, whom the mother held clasped in her arms, and\ncovered as it were with her whole body.\n\n\"Spare me one, and that the youngest!  Oh, spare me one of so\nmany?!\" she cried; and while she spoke, that one fell dead.\nDesolate she sat, among sons, daughters, husband, all dead, and\nseemed torpid with grief.  The breeze moved not her hair, nor\ncolor was on her cheek, her eyes glared fixed and immovable,\nthere was no sign of life about her.  Her very tongue clave to\nthe roof of her mouth, and her veins ceased to convey the tide of\nlife.  Her neck bent not, her arms made no gesture, her foot no\nstep.  She was changed to stone, within and without.  Yet tears\ncontinued to flow; and, borne on a whirlwind to her native\nmountain, she still remains, a mass of rock, from which a\ntrickling stream flows, the tribute of her never-ending grief.\n\nThe story of Niobe has furnished Byron with a fine illustration\nof the fallen condition of modern Rome:\n\n  \"The Niobe of nations!  There she stands,\n  Childless and crownless in her voiceless woe;\n  An empty urn within her withered hands,\n  Whose holy dust was scattered long ago;\n  The Scipios' tomb contains no ashes now;\n  The very sepulchres lie tenantless\n  Of their heroic dwellers; dost thou flow,\n  Old Tiber!  Through a marble wilderness?\n  Rise with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress.\"\n  Childe Harold, IV.79\n\nThe slaughter of the children of Niobe by Apollo, alludes to the\nGreek belief that pestilence and illness were sent by Apollo, and\none dying by sickness was said to be struck by Apollo's arrow.\nIt is to this that Morris alludes in the Earthly Paradise:\n\n  \"While from the freshness of his blue abode,\n  Glad his death-bearing arrows to forget,\n  The broad sun blazed, nor scattered plagues as yet.\"\n\nOur illustration of this story is a copy of a celebrated statue\nin the imperial gallery of Florence.  It is the principal figure\nof a group supposed to have been originally arranged in the\npediment of a temple.  The figure of the mother clasped by the\narm of her terrified child, is one of the most admired of the\nancient statues.  It ranks with the Laocoon and the Apollo among\nthe masterpieces of art.  The following is a translation of a\nGreek epigram supposed to relate to this statue:\n\n  \"To stone the gods have changed her, but in vain;\n  The sculptor's art has made her breathe again.\"\n\nTragic as is the story of Niobe we cannot forbear to smile at the\nuse Moore has made of it in Rhymes on the Road:\n\n  \"'Twas in his carriage the sublime\n  Sir Richard Blackmore used to rhyme,\n  And, if the wits don't do him wrong,\n  'Twixt death and epics passed his time,\n  Scribbling and killing all day long;\n  Like Phoebus in his car at ease,\n  Now warbling forth a lofty song,\n  Now murdering the young Niobes.\"\n\nSir Richard Blackmore was a physician, and at the same time a\nvery prolific and very tasteless poet, whose works are now\nforgotten, unless when recalled to mind by some wit like Moore\nfor the sake of a joke.\n\n\nTHE GRAEAE AND GORGONS\n\nThe Graeae were three sisters who were gray-haired from their\nbirth, whence their name.  The Gorgons were monstrous females\nwith huge teeth like those of swine, brazen claws, and snaky\nhair.  They also were three in number, two of them immortal, but\nthe other, Medusa, mortal.  None of these beings make much figure\nin mythology except Medusa, the Gorgon, whose story we shall next\nadvert to.  We mention them chiefly to introduce an ingenious\ntheory of some modern writers, namely, that the Gorgons and\nGraeae were only personifications of the terrors of the sea, the\nformer denoting the STRONG billows of the wide open main, and the\nlatter the WHITE-crested waves that dash against the rocks of the\ncoast.  Their names in Greek signify the above epithets.\n\n\nPERSEUS AND MEDUSA\n\nAcrisius was the king who ruled in Argos.  To him had an oracle\ndeclared that he should be slain by the child of his daughter\nDanae.  Therefore the cruel king, thinking it better that Danae\nshould have no children than that he should be slain, ordered a\ntower of brass to be made, and in this tower he confined his\ndaughter away from all men.\n\nBut who can withstand Jupiter?  He saw Danae, loved her, and\nchanging his form to a shower of gold, he shone into the\napartment of the captive girl.\n\nPerseus was the child of Jupiter and Danae.  Acrisius, finding\nthat his precautions had come to nought, and yet hardly daring to\nkill his own daughter and her young child, placed them both in a\nchest and sent the chest floating on the sea.  It floated away\nand was finally entangled in the net of Dicte, a fisherman in the\nisland of Seriphus.  He brought them to his house and treated\nthem kindly, and in the house of Dicte, Perseus grew up.  When\nPerseus was grown up, Polydectes, king of that country, wishing\nto send Perseus to his death, bade him go in quest of the head of\nMedusa.  Medusa had once been a beautiful maiden, whose hair was\nher chief glory, but as she dared to vie in beauty with Minerva,\nthe goddess deprived her of her charms and changed her beautiful\nringlets into hissing serpents.  She became a cruel monster of so\nfrightful an aspect that no living thing could behold her without\nbeing turned into stone.  All around the cavern where she dwelt\nmight be seen the stony figures of men and beasts which had\nchanced to catch a glimpse of her and had been petrified with the\nsight.  Minerva and Mercury aided Perseus.  From Minerva, Perseus\nborrowed her shield, and from Mercury the winged shoes and the\nharpe or crooked sword.  After having flown all over the earth\nPerseus espied in the bright shield the image of Medusa and her\ntwo immortal sisters.  Flying down carefully he cut at her with\nhis harpe and severed her head.  Putting the trophy in his pouch\nhe flew away just as the two immortal sisters were awakened by\nthe hissings of their snaky locks.\n\n\nPERSEUS AND ATLAS\n\nAfter the slaughter of Medusa, Perseus, bearing with him the head\nof the Gorgon, flew far and wide, over land and sea.  As night\ncame on, he reached the western limit of the earth, where the sun\ngoes down.  Here he would gladly have rested till morning.  It\nwas the realm of King Atlas, whose bulk surpassed that of all\nother men.  He was rich in flocks and herds and had no neighbor\nor rival to dispute his state.  But his chief pride was in his\ngardens, whose fruit was of gold, hanging from golden branches,\nhalf hid with golden leaves.  Perseus said to him, \"I come as a\nguest.  If you honor illustrious descent, I claim Jupiter for my\nfather; if mighty deeds, I plead the conquest of the Gorgon.  I\nseek rest and food.\"  But Atlas remembered that an ancient\nprophecy had warned him that a son of Jove should one day rob him\nof his golden apples.  So he answered, \"Begone! Or neither your\nfalse claims of glory nor of parentage shall protect you;\" and he\nattempted to thrust him out.  Perseus, finding the giant too\nstrong for him, said, \"Since you value my friendship so little,\ndeign to accept a present;\" and turning his face away, he held up\nthe Gorgon's head.  Atlas, with all his bulk, was changed into\nstone.  His beard and hair became forests, his arms and shoulders\ncliffs, his head a summit, and his bones rocks.  Each part\nincreased in bulk till he became a mountain, and (such was the\npleasure of the gods) heaven with all its stars rests upon his\nshoulders.\n\nAnd all in vain was Atlas turned to a mountain, for the oracle\ndid not mean Perseus, but the hero Hercules, who should come long\nafterwards to get the golden apples for his cousin Eurystheus.\n\nPerseus, continuing his flight, arrived at the country of the\nAEthiopians, of which Cepheus was king.  Cassiopeia, his queen,\nproud of her beauty, had dared to compare herself to the Sea-\nNymphs, which roused their indignation to such a degree that they\nsent a prodigious sea-monster to ravage the coast.  To appease\nthe deities, Cepheus was directed hy the oracle to expose his\ndaughter Andromeda to be devoured by the monster.  As Perseus\nlooked down from his aerial height he beheld the virgin chained\nto a rock, and waiting the approach of the serpent.  She was so\npale and motionless that if it had not been for her flowing tears\nand her hair that moved in the breeze, he would have taken her\nfor a marble statue.  He was so startled at the sight that he\nalmost forgot to wave his wings.  As he hovered over her he said,\n\"O virgin, undeserving of those chains, but rather of such as\nbind fond lovers together, tell me, I beseech you, your name and\nthe name of your country, and why you are thus bound.\"  At first\nshe was silent from modesty, and, if she could, would have hid\nher face with her hands; but when he repeated his questions, for\nfear she might be thought guilty of some fault which she dared\nnot tell, she disclosed her name and that of her country, and her\nmother's pride of beauty.  Before she had done speaking, a sound\nwas heard off upon the water, and the sea-monster appeared, with\nhis head raised above the surface, cleaving the waves with his\nbroad breast.  The virgin shrieked, the father and mother who had\nnow arrived at the scene, wretched both, but the mother more\njustly so, stood by, not able to afford protection, but only to\npour forth lamentations and to embrace the victim.  Then spoke\nPerseus: \"There will be time enough for tears; this hour is all\nwe have for rescue.  My rank as the son of Jove and my renown as\nthe slayer of the Gorgon might make me acceptable as a suitor;\nbut I will try to win her by services rendered, if the gods will\nonly be propitious.  If she be rescued by my valor, I demand that\nshe be my reward.\"  The parents consent (how could they\nhesitate?) And promise a royal dowry with her.\n\nAnd now the monster was within the range of a stone thrown by a\nskilful slinger, when with a sudden bound the youth soared into\nthe air.  As an eagle, when from his lofty flight he sees a\nserpent basking in the sun, pounces upon him and seizes him by\nthe neck to prevent him from turning his head round and using his\nfangs, so the youth darted down upon the back of the monster and\nplunged his sword into its shoulder.  Irritated by the wound the\nmonster raised himself into the air, then plunged into the depth;\nthen, like a wild boar surrounded by a pack of barking dogs,\nturned swiftly from side to side, while the youth eluded its\nattacks by means of his wings.  Wherever he can find a passage\nfor his sword between the scales he makes a wound, piercing now\nthe side, now the flank, as it slopes towards the tail.  The\nbrute spouts from his nostrils water mixed with blood.  The wings\nof the hero are wet with it, and he dares no longer trust to\nthem.  Alighting on a rock which rose above the waves, and\nholding on by a projecting fragment, as the monster floated near\nhe gave him a death-stroke.  The people who had gathered on the\nshore shouted so that the hills re-echoed to the sound.  The\nparents, transported with joy, embraced their future son-in-law,\ncalling him their deliverer and the savior of their house, and\nthe virgin, both cause and reward of the contest, descended from\nthe rock.\n\nCassiopeia was an Aethiopian, and consequently, in spite of her\nboasted beauty, black; at least so Milton seems to have thought,\nwho alludes to this story in his Penseroso, where he addresses\nMelancholy as the\n\n  \"---- goddess, sage and holy,\n  Whose saintly visage is too bright\n  To hit the sense of human sight,\n  And, therefore, to our weaker view\n  O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue.\n  Black, but such as in esteem\n  Prince Memnon's sister might beseem,\n  Or that starred Aethiop queen that strove\n  To set her beauty's praise above\n  The Sea-nymphs, and their powers offended.\"\n\nCassiopeia is called \"the starred Aethiop queen,\" because after\nher death she was placed among the stars, forming the\nconstellation of that name.  Though she attained this honor, yet\nthe Sea-Nymphs, her old enemies, prevailed so far as to cause her\nto be placed in that part of the heaven near the pole, where\nevery night she is half the time held with her head downward, to\ngive her a lesson of humility.\n\n\"Prince Memnon\" was the son of Aurora and Tithonus, of whom we\nshall hear later.\n\n\nTHE WEDDING FEAST\n\nThe joyful parents, with Perseus and Andromeda, repaired to the\npalace, where a banquet was spread for them, and all was joy and\nfestivity.  But suddenly a noise was heard of war-like clamor,\nand Phineus, the betrothed of the virgin, with a party of his\nadherents, burst in, demanding the maiden as his own.  It was in\nvain that Cepheus remonstrated,   \"You should have claimed her\nwhen she lay bound to the rock, the monster's victim.  The\nsentence of the gods dooming her to such a fate dissolved all\nengagements, as death itself would have done.:\" Phineus made no\nreply, but hurled his javelin at Perseus, but it missed its mark\nand fell harmless.  Perseus would have thrown his in turn, but\nthe cowardly assailant ran and took shelter behind the altar.\nBut his act was a signal for an onset by his band upon the guests\nof Cepheus.  They defended themselves and a general conflict\nensued, the old king retreating from the scene after fruitless\nexpostulations, calling the gods to witness that he was guiltless\nof this outrage on the rights of hospitality.\n\nPerseus and his friends maintained for some time the unequal\ncontest; but the numbers of the assailants were too great for\nthem, and destruction seemed inevitable, when a sudden thought\nstruck Perseus: \"I will make my enemy defend me.\"  Then, with a\nloud voice he exclaimed, :If I have any friend here let him turn\naway his eyes!\" and held aloft the Gorgon's head.  \"Seek not to\nfrighten us with your jugglery,\" said Thescelus, and raised his\njavelin in act to throw, and became stone in the very attitude.\nAmpyx was about to plunge his sword into the body of a prostrate\nfoe, but his arm stiffened and he could neither thrust forward\nnor withdraw it.  Another, in the midst of a vociferous\nchallenge, stopped, his mouth open, but no sound issuing.  One of\nPerseus's friends, Aconteus, caught sight of the Gorgon and\nstiffened like the rest.  Astyages struck him with his sword, but\ninstead of wounding, it recoiled with a ringing noise.\n\nPhineus beheld this dreadful result of his unjust aggression, and\nfelt confounded.  He called aloud to his friends, but got no\nanswer; he touched them and found them stone.  Falling on his\nknees and stretching out his hands to Perseus, but turning his\nhead away, he begged for mercy.  \"Take all,\" said he, \"give me\nbut my life.\"  \"Base coward,\" said Perseus, \"thus much I will\ngrant you; no weapon shall touch you; moreover you shall be\npreserved in my house as a memorial of these events.\" So saying,\nhe held the Gorgon's head to the side where Phineus was looking,\nand in the very form in which he knelt, with his hands\noutstretched and face averted, he became fixed immovably, a mass\nof stone!\n\nThe following allusion to Perseus is from Milman's Samor:\n\n  \"As 'mid the fabled Libyan bridal stood\n  Perseus in stern tranquillity of wrath,\n  Half stood, half floated on his ankle-plumes\n  Out-swelling, while the bright face on his shield\n  Looked into stone the raging fray; so rose,\n  But with no magic arms, wearing alone\n  Th' appalling and control of his firm look,\n  The Briton Samor; at his rising awe\n  Went abroad, and the riotous hall was mute.\"\n\nThen Perseus returned to Seriphus to King Polydectes and to his\nmother Danae and the fisherman Dicte.  He marched up the tyrant's\nhall, where Polydectes and his guests were feasting.  \"Have you\nthe head of Medusa?\" exclaimed Polydectes.  \"Here it is,\"\nanswered Perseus, and showed it to the king and to his guests.\n\nThe ancient prophecy which Acrisius had so much feared at last\ncame to pass.  For, as Perseus was passing through the country of\nLarissa, he entered into competition with the youths of the\ncountry at the game of hurling the discus.  King Acrisius was\namong the spectators.  The youths of Larissa threw first, and\nthen Perseus.  His discus went far beyond the others, and, seized\nby a breeze from the sea, fell upon the foot of Acrisius.  The\nold king swooned with pain, and was carried away from the place\nonly to die.  Perseus, who had heard the story of his birth and\nparentage from Danae, when he learned who Acrisius was, filled\nwith remorse and sorrow, went to the oracle at Delphi, and there\nwas purified from the guilt of homicide.\n\nPerseus gave the head of Medusa to Minerva, who had aided him so\nwell to obtain it.  Minerva took the head of her once beautiful\nrival and placed it in the middle of her Aegis.\n\nMilton, in his Comus, thus alludes to the Aegis:\n\n  \"What was that snaky-headed Gorgon-shield\n  That wise Minerva wore, unconquered virgin,\n  Wherewith she freezed her foes to congealed stone,\n  But rigid looks of chaste austerity,\n  And noble grace that dashed brute violence\n  With sudden adoration and blank awe!\"\n\nArmstrong, the poet of the Art of Preserving Health, thus\ndescribes the effect of frost upon the waters:\n\n  \"Now blows the surly North and chills throughout\n  the stiffening regions, while by stronger charms\n  Than Circe e'er or fell Medea brewed,\n  Each brook that wont to prattle to its banks\n  Lies all bestilled and wedged betwixt its banks,\n  Nor moves the withered reeds. . . .\n  The surges baited by the fierce Northeast,\n  Tossing with fretful spleen their angry heads,\n  E'en in the foam of all their madness struck\n  To monumental ice.\n\n  *         *         *         *         *\n\n  Such execution,\n  So stern, so sudden, wrought the grisly aspect\n  Of terrible Medusa,\n  When wandering through the woods she turned to stone\n  Their savage tenants; just as the foaming lion\n  Sprang furious on his prey, her speedier power\n  Outran his haste,\n  And fixed in that fierce attitude he stands\n  Like Rage in marble!\"\n  Imitations of Shakespeare\n\nOf Atlas there is another story, which I like better than the one\ntold.  He was one of the Titans who warred against Jupiter like\nTyphoeus, Briareus, and others.  After their defeat by the king\nof gods and men, Atlas was condemned to stand in the far western\npart of the earth, by the Pillars of Hercules, and to hold on his\nshoulders the weight of heaven and the stars.\n\nThe story runs that Perseus, flying by, asked and obtained rest\nand food.  The next morning he asked what he could do to reward\nAtlas for his kindness.  The best that giant could think of was\nthat Perseus should show him the snaky head of Medusa, that he\nmight be turned to stone and be at rest from his heavy load.\n\n\n\nChapter X\n\nMonsters.  Giants.  Sphinx.  Pegasus and the Chimaera.\nCentaurs.  Griffin.  Pygmies\n\nMonsters, in the language of mythology, were beings of unnatural\nproportions or parts, usually regarded with terror, as possessing\nimmense strength and ferocity, which they employed for the injury\nand annoyance of men.  Some of them were supposed to combine the\nmembers of different animals; such were the Sphinx and the\nChimaera; and to these all the terrible qualities of wild beasts\nwere attributed, together with human sagacity and faculties.\nOthers, as the giants, differed from men chiefly in their size;\nand in this particular we must recognize a wide distinction among\nthem.  The human giants, if so they may be called, such as the\nCyclopes, Antaeus, Orion, and others, must be supposed not to be\naltogether disproportioned to human beings, for they mingled in\nlove and strife with them.  But the superhuman giants, who warred\nwith the gods, were of vastly larger dimensions.  Tityus, we are\ntold, when stretched on the plain, covered nine acres, and\nEnceladus required the whole of Mount AEtna to be laid upon him\nto keep him down.\n\nWe have already spoken of the war which the giants waged against\nthe gods, and of its result.  While this war lasted the giants\nproved a formidable enemy.  Some of them, like Briareus, had a\nhundred arms; others, like Typhon, breathed out fire.  At one\ntime they put the gods to such fear that they fled into Egypt,\nand hid themselves under various forms.  Jupiter took the form of\na ram, whence he was afterwards worshipped in Egypt as the god\nAmmon, with curved horns.  Apollo became a crow, Bacchus a goat,\nDiana a cat, Juno a cow, Venus a fish, Mercury a bird.  At\nanother time the giants attempted to climb up into heaven, and\nfor that purpose took up the mountain Ossa and piled it on\nPelion.  They were at last subdued by thunderbolts, which Minerva\ninvented, and taught Vulcan and his Cyclopes to make for Jupiter.\n\n\nTHE SPHINX\n\nLaius, king of Thebes, was warned by an oracle that there was\ndanger to his throne and life if his new-born son should be\nsuffered to grow up.  He therefore committed the child to the\ncare of a herdsman, with orders to destroy him; but the herdsman,\nmoved to pity, yet not daring entirely to disobey, tied up the\nchild by the feet, and left him hanging to the branch of a tree.\nHere the infant was found by a herdsman of Polybus, king of\nCorinth, who was pasturing his flock upon Mount Cithaeron.\nPolybus and Merope, his wife, adopted the child, whom they called\nOEdipus, or Swollen-foot, for they had no children themselves,\nand in Corinth OEdipus grew up.  But as OEdipus was at Delphi,\nthe oracle prophesied to him that he should kill his father and\nmarry his own mother.  Fighting against Fate, OEdipus resolved to\nleave Corinth and his parents, for he thought that Polybus and\nMerope were meant by the oracle.\n\nSoon afterwards, Laius being on his way to Delphi, accompanied\nonly by one attendant, met in a narrow road a young man also\ndriving in a chariot.  On his refusal to leave the way at their\ncommand, the attendant killed one of his horses, and the\nstranger, filled with rage, slew both Laius and his attendant.\nThe young man was OEdipus, who thus unknowingly became the slayer\nof his own father.\n\nShortly after this event the city of Thebes was afflicted with a\nmonster which infested the high-road.  It was called the Sphinx.\nIt had the body of a lion, and the upper part of a woman.  It lay\ncrouched on the top of a rock, and stopped all travellers who\ncame that way, proposing to them a riddle, with the condition\nthat those who could solve it should pass safe, but those who\nfailed should be killed.  Not one had yet succeeded in solving\nit, and all had been slain.  OEdipus was not daunted by these\nalarming accounts, but boldly advanced to the trial.  The Sphinx\nasked him, \"What animal is that which in the morning goes on four\nfeet, at noon on two, and in the evening upon three?\"  OEdipus\nreplied, \"Man, who in childhood creeps on hands and knees, in\nmanhood walks erect, and in old age with the aid of a staff.\"\nThe Sphinx was so mortified at the solving of her riddle that she\ncast herself down from the rock and perished.\n\nThe gratitude of the people for their deliverance was so great\nthat they made OEdipus their king, giving him in marriage their\nqueen Jocasta.  OEdipus, ignorant of his parentage, had already\nbecome the slayer of his father; in marrying the queen he became\nthe husband of his mother.  These horrors remained undiscovered,\ntill at length Thebes was afflicted with famine and pestilence,\nand the oracle being consulted, the double crime of OEdipus came\nto light.  Jocasta put an end to her own life, and OEdipus,\nseized with madness, tore out his eyes, and wandered away from\nThebes, dreaded and abandoned hy all except his daughters, who\nfaithfully adhered to him; till after a tedious period of\nmiserable wandering, he found the termination of his wretched\nlife.\n\n\nPEGASUS AND THE CHIMAERA\n\nWhen Perseus cut off Medusa's head, the blood sinking into the\nearth produced the winged horse Pegasus.  Minerva caught and\ntamed him, and presented him to the Muses.  The fountain\nHippocrene, on the Muses' mountain Helicon, was opened by a kick\nfrom his hoof.\n\nThe Chimaera was a fearful monster, breathing fire.  The fore\npart of its body was a compound of the lion and the goat, and the\nhind part a dragon's.  It made great havoc in Lycia, so that the\nking Iobates sought for some hero to destroy it.  At that time\nthere arrived at his court a gallant young warrior, whose name\nwas Bellerophon.  He brought letters from Proetus, the son-in-law\nof Iobates, recommending Bellerophon in the warmest terms as an\nunconquerable hero, but added at the close a request to his\nfather-in-law to put him to death.  The reason was that Proetus\nwas jealous of him, suspecting that his wife Antea looked with\ntoo much admiration on the young warrior.  From this instance of\nBellerophon being unconsciously the bearer of his own death-\nwarrant, the expression \"Bellerophontic letters\" arose, to\ndescribe any species of communication which a person is made the\nbearer of, containing matter prejudicial to himself.\n\nIobates, on perusing the letters, was puzzled what to do, not\nwilling to violate the claims of hospitality, yet wishing to\noblige his son-in-law.  A lucky thought occurred to him, to send\nBellerophon to combat with the Chimaera.  Bellerophon accepted\nthe proposal, but before proceeding to the combat consulted the\nsoothsayer Polyidus, who advised him to procure if possible the\nhorse Pegasus for the conflict.  For this purpose he directed him\nto pass the night in the temple of Minerva.  He did so, and as he\nslept Minerva came to him and gave him a golden bridle.  When he\nawoke the bridle remained in his hand.  Minerva also showed him\nPegasus drinking at the well of Pirene, and at sight of the\nbridle, the winged steed came willingly and suffered himself to\nbe taken.  Bellerophon mounting, rose with him into the air, and\nsoon found the Chimaera, and gained an easy victory over the\nmonster.\n\nAfter the conquest of the Chimaera, Bellerophon was exposed to\nfurther trials and labors by his unfriendly host, but by the aid\nof Pegasus he triumphed in them all; till at length Iobates,\nseeing that the hero was a special favorite of the gods, gave him\nhis daughter in marriage and made him his successor on the\nthrone.  At last Bellerophon by his pride and presumption drew\nupon himself the anger of the gods; it is said he even attempted\nto fly up into heaven on his winged steed; but Jupiter sent a\ngadfly which stung Pegasus and made him throw his rider, who\nbecame lame and blind in consequence.  After this Bellerophon\nwandered lonely through the Aleian field, avoiding the paths of\nmen, and died miserably.\n\nMilton alludes to Bellerophon in the beginning o the seventh book\nof Paradise Lost:\n\n  \"Descend from Heaven, Urania, by that name\n  If rightly thou art called, whose voice divine\n  Following above the Olympian hill I soar,\n  Above the flight of Pegasean wing,\n  Up-led by thee,\n  Into the Heaven of Heavens I have presumed,\n  An earthly guest, and drawn empyreal air,\n  (Thy tempering;) with like safety guided down\n  Return me to my native element;\n  Lest from this flying steed unreined, (as once\n  Bellerophon, though from a lower sphere,)\n  Dismounted on the Aleian field I fall,\n  Erroneous there to wander, and forlorn.\"\n\nYoung in his Night Thoughts, speaking of the skeptic, says,\n\n  \"He whose blind thought futurity denies,\n  Unconscious bears, Bellerophon, like thee\n  His own indictment; he condemns himself,\n  Who reads his bosom reads immortal life,\n  Or nature there, imposing on her sons,\n  Has written fables; man was made a lie.\"\n  Vol. II.1,12.\n\nPegasus, being the horse of the Muses, has always been at the\nservice of the poets.  Schiller tells a pretty story of his\nhaving been sold by a needy poet, and put to the cart and the\nplough.  He was not fit for such service, and his clownish master\ncould make nothing of him.  But a youth stepped forth and asked\nleave to try him.  As soon as he was seated on his back, the\nhorse, which had appeared at first vicious, and afterwards\nspirit-broken, rose kingly, a spirit, a god; unfolded the\nsplendor of his wings and soared towards heaven.  Our own poet\nLongfellow also records an adventure of this famous steed in his\nPegasus in Pound.\n\nShakespeare alludes to Pegasus in Henry IV, where Vernon\ndescribes Prince Henry:\n\n  \"I saw young Harry, with his beaver on,\n  His cuishes on his thighs, gallantly armed,\n  Rise from the ground like feathered Mercury,\n  And vaulted with such ease into his seat,\n  As if an angel dropped down from the clouds,\n  To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus,\n  And witch the world with noble horsemanship.\"\n\n\nTHE CENTAURS\n\nThe Greeks loved to people their woods and hills with strange\nwild people,   half man, half beast.  Such were the Satyrs   men\nwith goats' legs.  But nobler and better were the Centaurs,   men\nto the waist, while the rest was the form of a horse.  The\nancients were too fond of a horse to consider the union of his\nnature with man's as forming any very degraded compound, and\naccordingly the Centaur is the only one of the fancied monsters\nof antiquity to which any good traits are assigned.  The Centaurs\nwere admitted to the companionship of man, and at the marriage of\nPirithous with Hippodamia, they were among the guests.  At the\nfeast, Eurytion, one of the Centaurs, becoming intoxicated with\nthe wine, attempted to offer violence to the bride; the other\nCentaurs followed his example, and a dreadful conflict arose in\nwhich several of them were slain.  This is the celebrated battle\nof the Lapithae and Centaurs, a favorite subject with the\nsculptors and poets of antiquity.\n\nBut all the Centaurs were not like the rude guests of Pirithous.\nChiron was instructed by Apollo and Diana, and was renowned for\nhis skill in hunting, medicine, music, and the art of prophecy.\nThe most distinguished heroes of Grecian story were his pupils.\nAmong the rest the infant Aesculapius was intrusted to his\ncharge, by Apollo, his father.  When the sage returned to his\nhome bearing the infant, his daughter Ocyroe came forth to meet\nhim, and at sight of the child burst forth into a prophetic\nstrain (for she was a prophetess), foretelling the glory that he\nwas to achieve.  Aesculapius, when grown up, became a renowned\nphysician, and even in one instance succeeded in restoring the\ndead to life.  Pluto resented this, and Jupiter, at his request,\nstruck the bold physician with lightning and killed him, but\nafter his death received him into the number of the gods.\n\nChiron was the wisest and justest of all the Centaurs, and at his\ndeath Jupiter placed him among the stars as the constellation\nSagittarius.\n\n\nTHE PYGMIES\n\nThe Pygmies were a nation of dwarfs, so called from a Greek word\nwhich means the cubit (a cubit was a measure of about thirteen\ninches), which was said to be the height of these people.  They\nlived near the sources of the Nile, or according to others, in\nIndia.  Homer tells us that the cranes used to migrate every\nwinter to the Pygmies' country, and their appearance was the\nsignal of bloody warfare to the puny inhabitants, who had to take\nup arms to defend their cornfields against the rapacious\nstrangers.  The Pygmies and their enemies the cranes form the\nsubject of several works of art.\n\nLater writers tell of an army of Pygmies which finding Hercules\nasleep made preparations to attack him, as if they were about to\nattack a city.  But the hero awaking laughed at the little\nwarriors, wrapped some of them up in his lion's-skin, and carried\nthem to Eurystheus.\n\nMilton used the Pygmies for a simile, Paradise Lost, Book I:\n\n  \"----like that Pygmaean race\n  Beyond the Indian mount, or fairy elves\n  Whose midnight revels by a forest side,\n  Or fountain, some belated peasant sees,\n  (Or dreams he sees), while overhead the moon\n  Sits artibress, and nearer to the earth\n  Wheels her pale course; they on their mirth and dance\n  Intent, with jocund music charm his ear.\n  At once with joy and fear his heart rebounds.\"\n\n\nTHE GRIFFIN, OR GRYPHON\n\nThe Griffin is a monster with the body of a lion, the head and\nwings of an eagle, and back covered with feathers.  Like birds it\nbuilds its nest, and instead of an egg lays an agate therein.  It\nhas long claws and talons of such a size that the people of that\ncountry make them into drinking-cups.  India was assigned as the\nnative country of the Griffins.  They found gold in the mountains\nand built their nests of it, for which reason their nests were\nvery tempting to the hunters, and they were forced to keep\nvigilant guard over them.  Their instinct led them to know where\nburied treasures lay, and they did their best to keep plunderers\nat a distance.  The Arimaspians, among whom the Griffins\nflourished, were a one-eyed people of Scythia.\n\nMilton borrows a simile from the Griffins, Paradise Lost, Book\nII.:\n\n  \"As when a Gryphon through the wilderness,\n  With winged course, o'er hill and moory dale,\n  Pursues the Arimaspian who by stealth\n  Hath from his wakeful custody purloined\n  His guarded gold.\"\n\n\n\nChapter XI\n\nThe Golden Fleece.  Medea.  The Calydonian Hunt\n\nIn very ancient times there lived in Thessaly a king and queen\nnamed Athamas and Nephele.  They had two children, a boy and a\ngirl.  After a time Athamas grew indifferent to his wife, put her\naway, and took another.  Nephele suspected danger to her children\nfrom the influence of the step-mother, and took measures to send\nthem out of her reach.  Mercury assisted her, and gave her a ram,\nwith a GOLDEN FLEECE, on which she set the two children, trusting\nthat the ram would convey them to a place of safety.  The ram\nsprung into the air with the children on his back, taking his\ncourse to the east, till when crossing the strait that divides\nEurope and Asia, the girl, whose name was Helle, fell from his\nback into the sea, which from her was called the Hellespont,\nnow the Dardanelles.  The ram continued his career till he\nreached the kingdom of Colchis, on the eastern shore of the Black\nSea, where he safely landed the boy Phyrxus, who was hospitably\nreceived by AEetes, the king of the country.  Phryxus sacrificed\nthe ram to Jupiter, and gave the golden fleece to AEetes, who\nplaced it in a consecrated grove, under the care of a sleepless\ndragon.\n\nThere was another kingdom in Thessaly near to that of Athamas,\nand ruled over by a relative of his.  The king AEson, being tired\nof the cares of government, surrendered his crown to his brother\nPelias, on condition that he should hold it only during the\nminority of Jason, the son of AEson.  When Jason was grown up and\ncame to demand the crown from his uncle, Pelias pretended to be\nwilling to yield it, but at the same time suggested to the young\nman the glorious adventure of going in quest of the golden\nfleece, which it was well known was in the kingdom of Colchis,\nand was, as Pelias pretended, the rightful property of their\nfamily.  Jason was pleased with the thought, and forthwith made\npreparations for the expedition.  At that time the only species\nof navigation known to the Greeks consisted of small boats or\ncanoes hollowed out from trunks of trees, so that when Jason\nemployed Argus to build him a vessel capable of containing fifty\nmen, it was considered a gigantic undertaking.  It was\naccomplished, however, and the vessel was named the Argo, from\nthe name of the builder.  Jason sent his invitation to all the\nadventurous young men of Greece, and soon found himself at the\nhead of a band of bold youths, many of whom afterwards were\nrenowned among the heroes and demigods of Greece.  Hercules,\nTheseus, Orpheus, and Nestor were among them.  They are called\nthe Argonauts, from the name of their vessel.\n\nThe Argo with her crew of heroes left the shores of Thessaly and\nhaving touched at the Island of Lemnos, thence crossed to Mysia\nand thence to Thrace.  Here they found the sage Phineus, and from\nhim received instruction as to their future course.  It seems the\nentrance of the Euxine Sea was impeded by two small rocky\nislands, which floated on the surface, and in their tossings and\nheavings occasionally came together, crushing and grinding to\natoms any object that might be caught between them.  They were\ncalled the Symplegades, or Clashing Islands.  Phineus instructed\nthe Argonauts how to pass this dangerous strait.  When they\nreached the islands they let go a dove, which took her way\nbetween the rocks, and passed in safety, only losing some\nfeathers of her tail.  Jason and his men seized the favorable\nmoment of the rebound, plied their oars with vigor, and passed\nsafe through, though the islands closed behind them, and actually\ngrazed their stern.  They now rowed along the shore till they\narrived at the eastern end of the sea, and landed at the kingdom\nof Colchis.\n\nJason made known his message to the Colchian king, AEetes, who\nconsented to give up the golden fleece if Jason would yoke to the\nplough two fire-breathing bulls with brazen feet, and sow the\nteeth of the dragon, which Cadmus had slain, and from which it\nwas well known that a crop of armed men would spring up, who\nwould turn their weapons against their producer.  Jason accepted\nthe conditions, and a time was set for making the experiment.\nPreviously, however, he found means to plead his cause to Medea,\ndaughter of the king.  He promised her marriage, and as they\nstood before the altar of Hecate, called the goddess to witness\nhis oath.  Medea yielded   and by her aid, for she was a potent\nsorceress, he was furnished with a charm, by which he could\nencounter safely the breath of the fire-breathing bulls and the\nweapons of the armed men.\n\nAt the time appointed, the people assembled at the grove of Mars,\nand the king assumed his royal seat, while the multitude covered\nthe hill-sides.  The brazen-footed bulls rushed in, breathing\nfire from their nostrils, that burned up the herbage as they\npassed.  The sound was like the roar of a furnace, and the smoke\nlike that of water upon quick-lime.  Jason advanced boldly to\nmeet them.  His friends, the chosen heroes of Greece, trembled to\nbehold him.  Regardless of the burning breath, he soothed their\nrage with his voice, patted their necks with fearless hands, and\nadroitly slipped over them the yoke, and compelled them to drag\nthe plough.  The Colchians were amazed; the Greeks shouted for\njoy.  Jason next proceeded to sow the dragon's teeth and plough\nthem in.  And soon the crop of armed men sprang up, and wonderful\nto relate! no sooner had they reached the surface than they began\nto brandish their weapons and rush upon Jason.  The Greeks\ntrembled for their hero, and even she who had provided him a way\nof safety and taught him how to use it, Medea herself, grew pale\nwith fear.  Jason for a time kept his assailants at bay with his\nsword and shield, till finding their numbers overwhelming, he\nresorted to the charm which Medea had taught him, seized a stone\nand threw it in the midst of his foes.  They immediately turned\ntheir arms against one another, and soon there was not one of the\ndragon's brood left alive.  The Greeks embraced their hero, and\nMedea, if she dared, would have embraced him too.\n\nThen AEetes promised the next day to give them the fleece, and\nthe Greeks went joyfully down to the Argo with the hero Jason in\ntheir midst.  But that night Medea came down to Jason, and bade\nhim make haste and follow her, for that her father proposed the\nnext morning to attack the Argonauts and to destroy their ship.\nThey went together to the grove of Mars, where the golden fleece\nhung guarded by the dreadful dragon, who glared at the hero and\nhis conductor with his great round eyes that never slept.  But\nMedea was prepared, and began her magic songs and spells, and\nsprinkled over him a sleeping potion which she had prepared by\nher art.  At the smell he relaxed his rage, stood for a moment\nmotionless, then shut those great round eyes, that had never been\nknown to shut before, and turned over on his side, fast asleep.\nJason seized the fleece, and with his friends and Medea\naccompanying, hastened to their vessel, before AEETES, the king,\ncould arrest their departure, and made the best of their way back\nto Thessaly, where they arrived safe, and Jason delivered the\nfleece to Pelias, and dedicated the Argo to Neptune.  What became\nof the fleece afterwards we do not know, but perhaps it was\nfound, after all, like many other golden prizes, not worth the\ntrouble it had cost to procure it.\n\nThis is one of those mythological tales, says a modern writer, in\nwhich there is reason to believe that a substratum of truth\nexists, though overlaid by a mass of fiction.  It probably was\nthe first important maritime expedition, and like the first\nattempts of the kind of all nations, as we know from history, was\nprobably of a half-piratical character.  If rich spoils were the\nresult, it was enough to give rise to the idea of the golden\nfleece.\n\nAnother suggestion of a learned mythologist, Bryant, is that it\nis a corrupt tradition of the story of Noah and the ark.  The\nname Argo seems to countenance this, and the incident of the dove\nis another confirmation.\n\nPope, in his Ode on St. Cecelia's Day, thus celebrates the\nlaunching of the ship Argo, and the power of the music of\nOrpheus, whom he calls the Thracian:\n\n  \"So when the first bold vessel dared the seas,\n  High on the stern the Thracian raised his strain,\n  While Argo saw her kindred trees\n  Descend from Pelion to the main.\n  Transported demigods stood round,\n  And men grew heroes at the sound.\"\n\nIn Dyer's poem of The Fleece there is an account of the ship Argo\nand her crew, which gives a good picture of this primitive\nmaritime adventure:\n\n  \"From every region of Aegea's shore\n  The brave assembled; those illustrious twins,\n  Castor and Pollux; Orpheus, tuneful bard;\n  Zetes and Calais, as the wind in speed;\n  Strong Hercules and many a chief renowned.\n  On deep Iolcos' sandy shore they thronged,\n  Gleaming in armor, ardent of exploits;\n  And soon, the laurel cord and the huge stone\n  Uplifting to the deck, unmoored the bark;\n  Whose keel of wondrous length the skilful hand\n  Of Argus fashioned for the proud attempt;\n  And in the extended keel a lofty mast\n  Upraised, and sails full swelling; to the chiefs\n  Unwonted objects.  Now first, now they learned\n  Their bolder steerage over ocean wave,\n  Led by the golden stars, as Chiron's art\n  Had marked the sphere celestial.\"\n\nHercules left the expedition at Mysia, for Hylas, a youth beloved\nby him, having gone for water, was laid hold of and kept by the\nnymphs of the spring, who were fascinated by his beauty.\nHercules went in quest of the lad, and while he was absent the\nArgo put to sea and left him.  Moore, in one of his songs, makes\na beautiful allusion to this incident:\n\n  \"When Hylas was sent with his urn to the fount,\n  Through fields full of light and with heart full of play,\n  Light rambled the boy over meadow and mount,\n  And neglected his task for the flowers in the way.\n\n  \"Thus many like me, who in youth should have tasted\n  The fountain that runs by Philosophy's shrine,\n  Their time with the flowers on the margin have wasted,\n  And left their light urns all as empty as mine.\"\n\nBut Hercules, as some say, went onward to Colchis by land, and\nthere performed many mighty deeds, and wiped away the stain of\ncowardice which might have clung to him.\n\n\nMEDEA AND AESON\n\nAmid the rejoicings for the recovery of the golden Fleece, Jason\nfelt that one thing was wanting, the presence of AESON, his\nfather, who was prevented by his age and infirmities from taking\npart in them.  Jason said to Medea, \"My wife, I would that your\narts, whose power I have seen so mighty for my aid, could do me\none further service, and take some years from my life to add them\nto my father's.\"  Medea replied, \"Not at such a cost shall it be\ndone, but if my art avails me, his life shall be lengthened\nwithout abridging yours.\"  The next full moon she issued forth\nalone, while all creatures slept; not a breath stirred the\nfoliage, and all was still.  To the stars she addressed her\nincantations, and to the moon; to Hecate (Hecate was a mysterious\ndivinity sometimes identified with Diana and sometimes with\nProserpine.  As Diana represents the moonlight splendor of night,\nso Hecate represents its darkness and terrors.  She was the\ngoddess of sorcery and witchcraft, and was believed to wander by\nnight along the earth, seen only by the dogs whose barking told\nher approach.), the goddess of the underworld, and to Tellus, the\ngoddess of the earth, by whose power plants potent for\nenchantments are produced.  She invoked the gods of the woods and\ncaverns, of mountains and valleys, of lakes and rivers, of winds\nand vapors.  While she spoke the stars shone brighter, and\npresently a chariot descended through the air, drawn by flying\nserpents.  She ascended it, and, borne aloft, made her way to\ndistant regions, where potent plants grew which she knew how to\nselect for her purpose.  Nine nights she employed in her search,\nand during that time came not within the doors of her palace nor\nunder any roof, and shunned all intercourse with mortals.\n\nShe next erected two altars, the one to Hecate, the other to\nHebe, the goddess of youth, and sacrificed a black sheep, pouring\nlibations of milk and wine.  She implored Pluto and his stolen\nbride that they would not hasten to take the old man's life.\nThen she directed that AESON should be led forth, and having\nthrown him into a deep sleep by a charm, had him laid on a bed of\nherbs, like one dead.  Jason and all others were kept away from\nthe place, that no profane eyes might look upon her mysteries.\nThen, with streaming hair, she thrice moved round the altars,\ndipped flaming twigs in the blood, and laid them thereon to burn.\nMeanwhile the caldron with its contents was got ready.  In it she\nput magic herbs, with seeds and flowers of acrid juice, stones\nfrom the distant East, and sand from the shore of all-surrounding\nocean; hoar frost, gathered by moonlight, a screech-owl's head\nand wings, and the entrails of a wolf.  She added fragments of\nthe shells of tortoises, and the liver of stags,   animals\ntenacious of life,   and the head and beak of a crow, that\noutlives nine generations of men.  These, with many other things\nwithout a name, she boiled together for her purposed work,\nstirring them up with a dry olive branch; and behold, the branch\nwhen taken out instantly became green, and before long was\ncovered with leaves and a plentiful growth of young olives; and\nas the liquor boiled and bubbled, and sometimes ran over, the\ngrass, wherever the sprinklings fell, shot forth with a verdure\nlike that of spring.\n\nSeeing that all was ready, Medea cut the throat of the old man\nand let out all his blood, and poured into his mouth and into his\nwound the juices of her caldron.  As soon as he had completely\nimbibed them, his hair and beard laid by their whiteness and\nassumed the blackness of youth; his paleness and emaciation were\ngone; his veins were full of blood, his limbs of vigor and\nrobustness.  AESON is amazed at himself, and remembers that such\nas he now is he was in his youthful days, forty years before.\n\nMedea used her arts here for a good purpose, but not so in\nanother instance, where she made them the instruments of revenge.\nPelias, our readers will recollect, was the usurping uncle of\nJason, and had kept him out of his kingdom.  Yet he must have had\nsome good qualities, for his daughters loved him, and when they\nsaw what Medea had done for AESON, they wished her to do the same\nfor their father.  Medea pretended to consent, and prepared her\ncaldron as before.  At her request an old sheep was brought and\nplunged into the caldron.  Very soon a bleating was heard in the\nkettle, and, when the cover was removed, a lamb jumped forth and\nran frisking away into the meadow.  The daughters of Pelias saw\nthe experiment with delight, and appointed a time for their\nfather to undergo the same operation.  But Medea prepared her\ncaldron for him in a very different way.  She put in only water\nand a few simple herbs.  In the night she with the sisters\nentered the bed-chamber of the old king, while he and his guards\nslept soundly under the influence of a spell cast upon them by\nMedea.  The daughters stood by the bedside with their weapons\ndrawn, but hesitated to strike, till Medea chid their\nirresolution.  Then, turning away their faces and giving random\nblows, they smote him with their weapons.  He, starting from his\nsleep, cried out, \"My daughters, what are you doing?  Will you\nkill your father?:\" Their hearts failed them, and the weapons\nfell from their hands, but Medea struck him a fatal blow, and\nprevented his saying more.\n\nThen they placed him in the caldron, and Medea hastened to depart\nin her serpent-drawn chariot before they discovered her\ntreachery, for their vengeance would have been terrible.  She\nescaped, however, but had little enjoyment of the fruits of her\ncrime.  Jason, for whom she had done so much, wishing to marry\nCreusa, princess of Corinth, put away Medea.  She, enraged at his\ningratitude, called on the gods for vengeance, sent a poisoned\nrobe as a gift to the bride, and then killing her own children,\nand setting fire to the palace, mounted her serpent-drawn chariot\nand fled to Athens, where she married King AEgeus, the father of\nTheseus; and we shall meet her again when we come to the\nadventures of that hero.\n\nThe incantations of Medea will remind the reader of those of the\nwitches in Macbeth.  The following lines are those which seem\nmost strikingly to recall the ancient model:\n\n  \"Round about the caldron go;\n  In the poisoned entrails throw.\n  *    *    *    *    *    *\n  Fillet of a fenny snake\n  In the caldron boil and bake;\n  Eye of newt and toe of frog,\n  Wool of bat and tongue of dog.\n  Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,\n  Lizard's leg and howlet's wing:\n  *    *    *    *    *    *\n  Maw of ravening salt-sea shark,\n  Root of hemlock digged in the dark.\"\n  Macbeth, Act IV., Scene 1\n\nAnd again:\n\n  Macbeth.  What is't you do?\n  Witches.  A deed without a name.\n\nThere is another story of Medea almost too revolting for record\neven of a sorceress, a class of persons to whom both ancient and\nmodern poets have been accustomed to attribute every degree of\natrocity.  In her flight from Colchis she had taken her young\nbrother Absyrtus with her.  Finding the pursuing vessels of\nAEETES gaining upon the Argonauts, she caused the lad to be\nkilled and his limbs to be strewn over the sea.  AEETES on\nreaching the place found these sorrowful traces of his murdered\nson; but while he tarried to collect the scattered fragments and\nbestow upon them an honorable interment, the Argonauts escaped.\n\nIn the poems of Campbell will be found a translation of one of\nthe choruses of the tragedy of Medea, where the poet Euripides\nhas taken advantage of the occasion to pay a glowing tribute to\nAthens, his native city.  It begins thus:\n\n  \"Oh, haggard queen!  To Athens dost thou guide\n  Thy glowing chariot, steeped in kindred gore;\n  Or seek to hide thy damned parricide\n  Where Peace and Justice dwell for evermore?\"\n\n\nTHE CALYDONIAN HUNT.  MELEAGER AND ATALANTA\n\nThe search for the Golden Fleece was undertaken by Jason, aided\nby heroes from all Greece, or Hellas as it was then called.  It\nwas the first of their common undertakings which made the Greeks\nfeel that they were in truth one nation, though split up into\nmany small kingdoms.  Another of their great gatherings was for\nthe Calydonian Hunt, and another, the greatest and most famous of\nall, for the Trojan War.\n\nThe hero of the quest for the golden Fleece was Jason.  With the\nother heroes of the Greeks, he was present at the Calydonian\nHunt.  But the chief hero was Meleager, the son of OEneus, king\nof Calydon, and Althea, his queen.\n\nAlthea, when her son was born, beheld the three Destinies, who,\nas they spun their fatal thread, foretold that the life of the\nchild should last no longer than a brand then burning upon the\nhearth.  Althea seized and quenched the brand, and carefully\npreserved it for years, while Meleager grew to boyhood, youth,\nand manhood.  It chanced, then, that OEneus, as he offered\nsacrifices to the gods, omitted to pay due honors to Diana, and\nshe, indignant at the neglect, sent a wild boar of enormous size\nto lay waste the files of Calydon.  Its eyes shone with blood and\nfire, its bristles stood like threatening spears, its tusks were\nlike those of Indian elephants.  The growing corn was trampled,\nthe vines and olive trees laid waste, the flocks and herds were\ndriven in wild confusion by the slaughtering foe.  All common aid\nseemed vain; but Meleager called on the heroes of Greece to join\nin a bold hunt for the ravenous monster.  Theseus and his friend\nPirithous, Jason, Peleus afterwards the father of Achilles,\nTelamon the father of Ajax, Nestor, then a youth, but who in his\nage bore arms with Achilles and Ajax in the Trojan war,   these\nand many more joined in the enterprise.  With them came Atalanta,\nthe daughter of Iasius, king of Arcadia.  A buckle of polished\ngold confined her vest, an ivory quiver hung on her left\nshoulder, and her left hand bore the bow.  Her face blent\nfeminine beauty with the best graces of martial youth.  Meleager\nsaw and loved.\n\nBut now already they were near the monster's lair.  They\nstretched strong nets from tree to tree; they uncoupled their\ndogs, they tried to find the footprints of their quarry in the\ngrass.  From the wood was a descent to marshy ground.  Here the\nboar, as he lay among the reeds, heard the shouts of his\npursuers, and rushed forth against them.  One and another is\nthrown down and slain.  Jason throws his spear with a prayer to\nDiana for success; and the favoring goddess allows the weapon to\ntouch, but not to wound, removing the steel point of the spear\neven in its flight.  Nestor, assailed, seeks and finds safety in\nthe branches of a tree.  Telamon rushes on, but stumbling at a\nprojecting root, falls prone.  But an arrow from Atalanta at\nlength for the first time tastes the monster's blood.  It is a\nslight wound, but Meleager sees and joyfully proclaims it.\nAnceus, excited to envy by the praise given to a female, loudly\nproclaims his own valor, and defies alike the boar and the\ngoddess who had sent it; but as he rushes on, the infuriated\nbeast lays him low with a mortal wound.  Theseus throws his\nlance, but it is turned aside by a projecting bough.  The dart of\nJason misses its object, and kills instead one of their own dogs.\nBut Meleager, after one unsuccessful stroke, drives his spear\ninto the monsters side, then rushes on and despatches him with\nrepeated blows.\n\nThen rose a shout from those around; they congratulated the\nconqueror, crowding to touch his hand.  He, placing his foot upon\nthe slain boar, turned to Atalanta and bestowed on her the head\nand the rough hide which were the trophies of his success.  But\nat this, envy excited the rest to strife.  Phlexippus and Toxeus,\nthe uncles of Meleager and Althea's brothers, beyond the rest\nopposed the gift, and snatched from the maiden the trophy she had\nreceived.  Meleager, kindling with rage at the wrong done to\nhimself, and still more at the insult offered to her whom he\nloved, forgot the claims of kindred, and plunged his sword into\nthe offenders' hearts.\n\nAs Althea bore gifts of thankfulness to the temples for the\nvictory of her son, the bodies of her murdered brothers met her\nsight.  She shrieks, and beats her breast, and hastens to change\nthe garments of rejoicing for those of mourning.  But when the\nauthor of the deed is known, grief gives way to the stern desire\nof vengeance on her son.  The fatal brand, which once she rescued\nfrom the flames, the brand which the Destinies had linked with\nMeleager's life, she brings forth, and commands a fire to be\nprepared.  Then four times she essays to place the brand upon the\npile; four times draws back, shuddering at the thought of\nbringing destruction on her son.  The feelings of the mother and\nthe sister contend within her.  Now she is pale at the thought of\nthe purposed deed, now flushed again with anger at the act of her\nson.  As a vessel, driven in one direction by the wind, and in\nthe opposite by the tide, the mind of Althea hangs suspended in\nuncertainty.  But now the sister prevails above the mother, and\nshe begins as she holds the fatal wood: \"Turn, ye Furies,\ngoddesses of punishment!  Turn to behold the sacrifice I bring!\nCrime must atone for crime.  Shall OEneus rejoice in his victor\nson, while the house of Thestius (Thestius was father of Toxeus,\nPhlexippus and Althea) is desolate?  But, alas! To what deed am I\nborne along?  Brothers, forgive a mother's weakness!  My hand\nfails me.  He deserves death, but not that I should destroy him.\nBut shall he then live, and triumph, and reign over Calydon,\nwhile you, my brothers, wander unavenged among the shades?  No!\nThou has lived by my gift; die, now, for thine own crime.  Return\nthe life which twice I gave thee, first at thy birth, again when\nI snatched this brand from the flames.  O that thou hadst then\ndied!  Alas!  Evil is the conquest; but, brothers, ye have\nconquered.\"  And, turning away her face, she threw the fatal wood\nupon the burning pile.\n\nIt gave, or seemed to give, a deadly groan.  Meleager, absent and\nunknowing of the cause, felt a sudden pang.  He burns and only by\ncourageous pride conquers the pain which destroys him.  He mourns\nonly that he perishes by a bloodless and unhonored death.  With\nhis last breath he calls upon his aged father, his brother, and\nhis fond sisters, upon his beloved Atalanta, and upon his mother,\nthe unknown cause of his fate.  The flames increase, and with\nthem the pain of the hero.  Now both subside; now both are\nquenched.  The brand is ashes and the life of Meleager is\nbreathed forth to the wandering winds.\n\nAlthea, when the deed was done, laid violent hands upon herself.\nThe sisters of Meleager mourned their brother with uncontrollable\ngrief; till Diana, pitying the sorrows of the house that once had\naroused her anger, turned them into birds.\n\n\nATALANTA\n\nThe innocent cause of so much sorrow was a maiden whose face you\nmight truly say was boyish for a girl, yet too girlish for a boy.\nHer fortune had been told, and it was to this effect: \"Atalanta,\ndo not marry; marriage will be your ruin.\"  Terrified by this\noracle, she fled the society of men, and devoted herself to the\nsports of the chase.  To all suitors (for she had many) she\nimposed a condition which was generally effectual in relieving\nher of their persecutions:   \"I will be the prize of him who\nshall conquer me in the race; but death must be the penalty of\nall who try and fail.\"  In spite of this hard condition some\nwould try.  Hippomenes was to be judge of the race.  \"Can it be\npossible that any will be so rash as to risk so much for a wife?\"\nsaid he.  But when he saw her lay aside her robe for the race, he\nchanged his mind, and said, \"Pardon me, youths, I knew not the\nprize you were competing for.\" As he surveyed them he wished them\nall to be beaten, and swelled with envy of any one that seemed at\nall likely to win.  While such were his thoughts, the virgin\ndarted forward.  As she ran, she looked more beautiful than ever.\nThe breezes seemed to give wings to her feet; her hair flew over\nher shoulders, and the gay fringe of her garment fluttered behind\nher.  A ruddy hue tinged the whiteness of her skin, such as a\ncrimson curtain casts on a marble wall.  All her competitors were\ndistanced, and were put to death without mercy.  Hippomenes, not\ndaunted by this result, fixing his eyes on the virgin, said, \"Why\nboast of beating those laggards?  I offer myself for the\ncontest.\"  Atalanta looked at him with a pitying countenance, and\nhardly knew whether she would rather conquer him or not.  \"What\ngod can tempt one so young and handsome to throw himself away?  I\npity him, not for his beauty (yet he is beautiful), but for his\nyouth.  I wish he would give up the race, or if he will be so\nmad, I hope he may outrun me.\"  While she hesitates, revolving\nthese thoughts, the spectators grow impatient for the race, and\nher father prompts her to prepare.  Then Hippomenes addressed a\nprayer to Venus; \"Help me, Venus, for you have led me on\" Venus\nheard, and was propitious.\n\nIn the garden of her temple, in her own island of Cyprus, is a\ntree with yellow leaves and yellow branches, and golden fruit.\nHence Venus gathered three golden apples, and, unseen by all\nelse, gave them to Hippomenes, and told him how to use them.  The\nsignal is given; each starts from the goal, and skims over the\nsand.  So light their tread, you would almost have thought they\nmight run over the river surface or over the waving grain without\nsinking.  The cries of the spectators cheered on Hippomenes:\n\"Now, now do your best!  Haste, haste!  You gain on her!  Relax\nnot!  One more effort!\"  It was doubtful whether the youth or the\nmaiden heard these cries with the greater pleasure.  But his\nbreath began to fail him, his throat was dry, the goal yet far\noff.  At that moment he threw down one of the golden apples.  The\nvirgin was all amazement.  She stopped to pick it up.  Hippomenes\nshot ahead.  Shouts burst forth from all sides.  She redoubled\nher efforts, and soon overtook him.  Again he threw an apple.\nShe stopped again, but again came up with him.  The goal was\nnear; one chance only remained.  \"Now, goddess,\" said he,\n\"prosper your gift!\" and threw the last apple off at one side.\nShe looked at it, and hesitated; Venus impelled her to turn aside\nfor it.  She did so, and was vanquished.  The youth carried off\nhis prize.\n\nBut the lovers were so full of their own happiness that they\nforgot to pay due honor to Venus; and the goddess was provoked at\ntheir ingratitude.  She caused them to give offence to Cybele.\nThat powerful goddess was not to be insulted with impunity.  She\ntook from them their human form and turned them into animals of\ncharacters resembling their own: of the huntress-heroine,\ntriumphing in the blood of her lovers, she made a lioness, and of\nher lord and master a lion, and yoked them to her ear, there they\nare still to be seen in all representations, in statuary or\npainting, of the goddess Cybele.\n\nCybele is the Latin name of the goddess called by the Greeks Rhea\nand Ops.  She was the wife of Cronos and mother of Zeus.  In\nworks of art, she exhibits the matronly air which distinguishes\nJuno and Ceres.  Sometimes she is veiled, and seated on a throne\nwith lions at her side, at other times riding in a chariot drawn\nby lions.  She sometimes wears a mural crown, that is, a crown\nwhose rim is carved in the form of towers and battlements.  Her\npriests were called Corybantes.\n\nByron in describing the city of Venice, which is built on a low\nisland in the Adriatic Sea, borrows an illustration from Cybele:\n\n  \"She looks a sea-Cybele fresh from ocean,\n  Rising with her tiara of proud towers\n  At airy distance, with majestic motion,\n  A ruler of the waters and their powers.\"\n  Childe Harold, IV\n\nIn Moore's Rhymes on the Road, the poet, speaking of Alpine\nscenery, alludes to the story of Atalanta and Hippomenes, thus:\n\n  \"Even here, in this region of wonders, I find\n  That light-footed Fancy leaves Truth far behind,\n  Or at least, like Hippomenes, turns her astray\n  By the golden illusions he flings in her way.\"\n\n\n\nChapter XII\n\nHercules.  Hebe and Ganymede\n\nHercules (in Greek, Heracles) was the son of Jupiter and Alemena.\nAs Juno was always hostile to the offspring of her husband by\nmortal mothers, she declared war against Hercules from his birth.\nShe sent two serpents to destroy him as he lay in his cradle, but\nthe precocious infant strangled them with his own hands.  (On\nthis account the infant Hercules was made the type of infant\nAmerica, by Dr. Franklin, and the French artists whom he employed\nin the American Revolution.  Horatio Greenough has placed a bas-\nrelief of the Infant Hercules on the pedestal of his statue of\nWashington, which stands in front of the Capitol.)  He was\nhowever by the arts of Juno rendered subject to his cousin\nEurystheus and compelled to perform all his commands.  Eurystheus\nenjoined upon him a succession of desperate adventures, which are\ncalled the twelve \"Labors of Hercules.\"  The first was the fight\nwith the Nemean lion.  The valley of Nemea was infested by a\nterrible lion.  Eurystheus ordered Hercules to bring him the skin\nof this monster.  After using in vain his club and arrows against\nthe lion, Hercules strangled the animal with his hands.  He\nreturned carrying the dead lion on his shoulders; but Eurystheus\nwas so frightened at the sight of it and at this proof of the\nprodigious strength of the hero, that he ordered him to deliver\nthe account of his exploits in future outside the town.\n\nHis next labor was to slaughter the Hydra.  This monster ravaged\nthe country of Argos, and dwelt in a swamp near the well of\nAmymone, of which the story is that when the country was\nsuffering from drought, Neptune, who loved her, had permitted her\nto touch the rock with his trident, and a spring of three outlets\nburst forth.  Here the Hydra took up his position, and Hercules\nwas sent to destroy him.  The Hydra had nine heads, of which the\nmiddle one was immortal.  Hercules struck off its head with his\nclub, but in the place of the head knocked off, two new ones grew\nforth each time.  At length with the assistance of his faithful\nservant Iolaus, he burned away the heads of the Hydra, and buried\nthe ninth or immortal one under a huge rock.\n\nAnother labor was the cleaning of the Augean stables.  Augeas,\nking of Elis, had a herd of three thousand oxen, whose stalls had\nnot been cleansed for thirty years.  Hercules brought the rivers\nAlpheus and Peneus through them, and cleansed them thoroughly in\none day.\n\nHis next labor was of a more delicate kind.  Admeta, the daughter\nof Eurystheus, longed to obtain the girdle of the queen of the\nAmazons, and Eurystheus ordered Hercules to go and get it.  The\nAmazons were a nation of women.  They were very warlike and held\nseveral flourishing cities.  It was their custom to bring up only\nthe female children; the boys were either sent away to the\nneighboring nations or put to death.  Hercules was accompanied by\na number of volunteers, and after various adventures at last\nreached the country of the Amazons.  Hippolyta, the queen,\nreceived him kindly, and consented to yield him her girdle; but\nJuno, taking the form of an Amazon, went among the other Amazons\nand persuaded them that the strangers were carrying off their\nqueen.  The Amazons instantly armed and came in great numbers\ndown to the ship.  Hercules, thinking that Hippolyta had acted\ntreacherously, slew her, and taking her girdle, made sail\nhomewards.\n\nAnother task enjoined him was to bring to Eurystheus the oxen of\nGeryon, a monster with three bodies who dwelt in the island\nErytheia (the red), so called because it lay at the west, under\nthe rays of the setting sun.  This description is thought to\napply to Spain, of which Geryon was said to be king.  After\ntraversing various countries, Hercules reached at length the\nfrontiers of Libya and Europe, where he raised the two mountains\nof Calpe and Abyla, as monuments of his progress, or according to\nanother account rent one mountain into two and left half on each\nside, forming the Straits of Gibraltar, the two mountains being\ncalled the Pillars of Hercules.  The oxen were guarded by the\ngiant Eurytion and his two-headed dog, but Hercules killed the\ngiant and his dog and brought away the oxen in safety to\nEurystheus.\n\nThe most difficult labor of all was bringing the golden apples of\nthe Hesperides, for Hercules did not know where to find them.\nThese were the apples which Juno had received at her wedding from\nthe goddess of the Earth, and which she had intrusted to the\nkeeping of the daughters of Hesperis, assisted by a watchful\ndragon.  After various adventures Hercules arrived at Mount Atlas\nin Africa.  Atlas was one of the Titans who had warred against\nthe gods, and after they were subdued, Atlas was condemned to\nbear on his shoulders the weight of the heavens.  He was the\nfather of the Hesperides, and Hercules thought, might, if any one\ncould, find the apples and bring them to him.  But how to send\nAtlas away from his post, or bear up the heavens while he was\ngone?  Hercules took the burden on his own shoulders, and sent\nAtlas to seek the apples.  He returned with them, and though\nsomewhat reluctantly, took his burden upon his shoulders again,\nand let Hercules return with the apples to Eurystheus.  (Hercules\nwas a descendant of Perseus.  Perseus changed Atlas to stone.\nHow could Hercules take his place?  This is only one of the many\nanachronisms found in ancient mythology.)\n\nMilton in his Comus makes the Hesperides the daughters of\nHesperus, and nieces of Atlas:\n\n  \"---- amidst the gardens fair\n  Of Hesperus and his daughters three,\n  That sing about the golden tree.\"\n\nThe poets, led by the analogy of the lovely appearance of the\nwestern sky at sunset, viewed the west as a region of brightness\nand glory.  Hence they placed in it the Isles of the blest, the\nruddy isle Erytheia, on which the bright oxen of Geryon were\npastured, and the isle of the Hesperides.  The apples are\nsupposed by some to be the oranges of Spain, of which the Greeks\nhad heard some obscure accounts.\n\nA celebrated exploit of Hercules was his victory over Antaeus.\nAntaeus, the son of Terra (the Earth) was a mighty giant and\nwrestler, whose strength was invincible so long as he remained in\ncontact with his mother Earth.  He compelled all strangers who\ncame to his country to wrestle with him, on condition that if\nconquered (as they all were), they should be put to death.\nHercules encountered him, and finding that it was of no avail to\nthrow him, for he always rose with renewed strength from every\nfall, he lifted him up from the earth and strangled him in the\nair.\n\nCacus was a huge giant, who inhabited a cave on Mount Aventine\n(one of the seven hills of Rome), and plundered the surrounding\ncountry.  When Hercules was driving home the oxen of Geryon,\nCacus stole part of the cattle, while the hero slept.  That their\nfoot-prints might not serve to show where they had been driven,\nhe dragged them backward by their tails to his cave; so their\ntracks all seemed to show that they had gone in the opposite\ndirection.  Hercules was deceived by this stratagem, and would\nhave failed to find his oxen, if it had not happened that in\ndriving the remainder of the herd past the cave where the stolen\nones were concealed, those within began to low, and were thus\ndiscovered.  Cacus was slain by Hercules.\n\nThe last exploit we shall record was bringing Cerberus from the\nlower world.  Hercules descended into Hades, accompanied by\nMercury and Minerva.  He obtained permission from Pluto to carry\nCerberus to the upper air, provided he could do it without the\nuse of weapons; and in spite of the monster's struggling he\nseized him, held him fast, and carried him to Eurystheus, and\nafterwards brought him back again.  When he was in Hades he\nobtained the liberty of Theseus, his admirer and imitator, who\nhad been detained a prisoner there for an unsuccessful attempt to\ncarry off Proserpine.\n\nHercules in a fit of madness killed his friend Iphitus and was\ncondemned for this offence to become the slave of Queen Omphale\nfor three years.  While in this service the hero's nature seemed\nchanged.  He lived effeminately, wearing at times the dress of a\nwoman, and spinning wool with the handmaidens of Omphale, while\nthe queen wore his lion's skin.  When this service was ended he\nmarried Dejanira and lived in peace with her three years.  On one\noccasion as he was travelling with his wife, they came to a\nriver, across which the Centaur Nessus carried travellers for a\nstated fee.  Hercules himself forded the river, but gave Dejanira\nto Nessus to be carried across.  Nessus attempted to run away\nwith her, but Hercules heard her cries, and shot an arrow into\nthe heart of Nessus.  The dying Centaur told Dejanira to take a\nportion of his blood and keep it, as it might be used as a charm\nto preserve the love of her husband.\n\nDejanira did so, and before long fancied she had occasion to use\nit.  Hercules in one of his conquests had taken prisoner a fair\nmaiden, named Iole, of whom he seemed more fond than Dejanira\napproved.  When Hercules was about to offer sacrifices to the\ngods in honor of his victory, he sent to his wife for a white\nrobe to use on the occasion.  Dejanira, thinking it a good\nopportunity to try her love-spell, steeped the garment in the\nblood of Nessus.  We are to suppose she took care to wash out all\ntraces of it, but the magic power remained, and as soon as the\ngarment became warm on the body of Hercules, the poison\npenetrated into all his limbs and caused him the most intense\nagony.  In his frenzy he seized Lichas, who had brought him the\nfatal robe, and hurled him into the sea.  He wrenched off the\ngarment, but it stuck to his flesh, and with it he tore away\nwhole pieces of his body.  In this state he embarked on board a\nship and was conveyed home.  Dejanira on seeing what she had\nunwittingly done, hung herself.  Hercules, prepared to die,\nascended Mount OEta, where he built a funeral pile of trees, gave\nhis bow and arrows to Philoctetes, and laid himself down on the\npile, his head resting on his club, and his lion's skin spread\nover him.  With a countenance as serene as if he were taking his\nplace at a festal board, he commanded Philoctetes to apply the\ntorch.  The flames spread apace and soon invested the whole mass.\n\nMilton thus alludes to the frenzy of Hercules:\n\n  \"As when Alcides (Alcides, a name of Hercules; the word means\n      \"descendant of Alcaeus\"), from OEchalia crowned\n  With conquest, felt the envenomed robe, and tore,\n  Through pain, up by the roots Thessalian pines\n  And Lichas from the top of OEta threw\n  Into the Euboic Sea.\"\n\nThe gods themselves felt troubled at seeing the champion of the\nearth so brought to his end; but Jupiter with cheerful\ncountenance thus addressed them; \"I am pleased to see your\nconcern, my princes, and am gratified to perceive that I am the\nruler of a loyal people, and that my son enjoys your favor.  For\nalthough your interest in him arises from his noble deeds, yet it\nis not the less gratifying to me.  But now I say to you, Fear\nnot.  He who conquered all else is not to be conquered by those\nflames which you see blazing on Mount OEta.  Only his mother's\nshare in him can perish; what he derived from me is immortal.  I\nshall take him, dead to earth, to the heavenly shores, and I\nrequire of you all to receive him kindly.  If any of you feel\ngrieved at his attaining this honor, yet no one can deny that he\nhas deserved it.\"  The gods all gave their assent; Juno only\nheard the closing words with some displeasure that she should be\nso particularly pointed at, yet not enough to make her regret the\ndetermination of her husband.  So when the flames had consumed\nthe mother's share of Hercules, the diviner part, instead of\nbeing injured thereby, seemed to start forth with new vigor, to\nassume a more lofty port and a more awful dignity.  Jupiter\nenveloped him in a cloud, and took him up in a four-horse chariot\nto dwell among the stars.  As he took his place in heaven, Atlas\nfelt the added weight.\n\nJuno, now reconciled to him, gave him her daughter Hebe in\nmarriage.\n\nThe poet Schiller, in one of his pieces called the Ideal and\nLife, illustrates the contrast between the practical and the\nimaginative in some beautiful stanzas, of which the last two may\nbe thus translated:\n\n  \"Deep degraded to a coward's slave,\n  Endless contests bore Alcides brave,\n  Through the thorny path of suffering led;\n  Slew the Hydra, crushed the lion's might,\n  Threw himself, to bring his friend to light,\n  Living, in the skiff that bears the dead.\n  All the torments, every toil of earth\n  Juno's hatred on him could impose,\n  Well he bore them, from his fated birth\n  To life's grandly mournful close.\n  Till the god, the earthly part forsaken,\n  From the man in flames asunder taken,\n  Drank the heavenly ether's purer breath.\n  Joyous in the new unwonted lightness,\n  Soared he upwards to celestial brightness,\n  Earth's dark heavy burden lost in death.\n  High Olympus gives harmonious greeting\n  To the hall where reigns his sire adored;\n  Youth's bright goddess, with a blush at meeting,\n  Gives the nectar to her lord.\"\n  S. G. Bulfinch\n\n\nHEBE AND GANYMEDE\n\nHebe, the daughter of Juno, and goddess of youth, was cupbearer\nto the gods.  The usual story is, that she resigned her office on\nbecoming the wife of Hercules.  But there is another statement\nwhich our countryman Crawford, the sculptor, has adopted in his\ngroup of Hebe and Ganymede, now in the gallery of the Boston\nAthenaeum.  According to this, Hebe was dismissed from her office\nin consequence of a fall which she met with one day when in\nattendance on the gods.  Her successor was Ganymede, a Trojan boy\nwhom Jupiter, in the disguise of an eagle, seized and carried off\nfrom the midst of his playfellows on Mount Ida, bore up to\nheaven, and installed in the vacant place.\n\nTennyson, in his Palace of Art, describes among the decorations\non the walls, a picture representing this legend:\n\n  \"There, too, flushed Ganymede his rosy thigh\n  Half buried in the eagle's down,\n  Sole as a flying star shot through the sky\n  Above the pillared town.\"\n\nAnd in Shelley's Prometheus, Jupiter calls to his cup-bearer\nthus:\n\n  \"Pour forth heaven's wine, Idaean Ganymede,\n  And let it fill the Daedal cups like fire.\"\n\nThe beautiful legend of the Choice of Hercules may be found in\nthe Tatler, No. 97.  The same story is told in the Memorabilia of\nXenophon.\n\n\n\nChapter XIII\n\nTheseus.  Daedalus.  Castor and Pollux\n\nTheseus was the son of AEgeus, king of Athens, and of Aethra,\ndaughter of the king of Troezene.  He was brought up at Troezene,\nand, when arrived at manhood, was to proceed to Athens and\npresent himself to his father.  AEgeus, on parting from Aethra,\nbefore the birth of his son, placed his sword and shoes under a\nlarge stone, and directed her to send his son to him when he\nbecame strong enough to roll away the stone and take them from\nunder it.  When she thought the time had come, his mother led\nTheseus to the stone, and he removed it with ease, and took the\nsword and shoes.  As the roads were infested with robbers, his\ngrandfather pressed him earnestly to take the shorter and safer\nway to his father's country, by sea; but the youth, feeling in\nhimself the spirit and the soul of a hero, and eager to signalize\nhimself like Hercules, with whose fame all Greece then rang, by\ndestroying the evil-doers and monsters that oppressed the\ncountry, determined on the more perilous and adventurous journey\nby land.\n\nHis first day's journey brought him to Epidaurus, where dwelt a\nman named Periphetes, a son of Vulcan.  This ferocious savage\nalways went armed with a club of iron, and all travellers stood\nin terror of his violence.  When he saw Theseus approach, he\nassailed him, but speedily fell beneath the blows of the young\nhero, who took possession of his club, and bore it ever\nafterwards as a memorial of his first victory.\n\nSeveral similar contests with the petty tyrants and marauders of\nthe country followed, in all of which Theseus was victorious.\nOne of these evil-doers was called Procrustes, or the Stretcher.\nHe had an iron bedstead, on which he used to tie all travellers\nwho fell into his hands.  If they were shorter than the bed, he\nstretched their limbs to make them fit it; if they were longer\nthan the bed, he lopped off a portion.  Theseus served him as he\nhad served others.\n\nHaving overcome all the perils of the road, Theseus at length\nreached Athens, where new dangers awaited him.  Medea, the\nsorceress, who had fled from Corinth after her separation from\nJason, had become the wife of AEgeus, the father of Theseus.\nKnowing by her arts who he was, and fearing the loss of her\ninfluence with her husband, if Theseus should be acknowledged as\nhis son, she filled the mind of AEgeus with suspicions of the\nyoung stranger, and induced him to present him a cup of poison;\nbut at the moment when Theseus stepped forward to take it, the\nsight of the sword which he wore discovered to his father who he\nwas, and prevented the fatal draught.  Medea, detected in her\narts, fled once more from deserved punishment, and arrived in\nAsia, where the country afterwards called Media received its name\nfrom her.  Theseus was acknowledged by his father, and declared\nhis successor.\n\nThe Athenians were at that time in deep affliction, on account of\nthe tribute which they were forced to pay to Minos, king of\nCrete.  This tribute consisted of seven youths and seven maidens,\nwho were sent every year to be devoured by the Minotaur, a\nmonster with a bull's body and a human head.  It was exceedingly\nstrong and fierce, and was kept in a labyrinth constructed by\nDaedalus, so artfully contrived that whoever was enclosed in it\ncould by no means find his way out unassisted.  Here the Minotaur\nroamed, and was fed with human victims.\n\nTheseus resolved to deliver his countrymen from this calamity, or\nto die in the attempt.  Accordingly, when the time of sending off\nthe tribute came, and the youths and maidens were, according to\ncustom, drawn by lot to be sent, he offered himself as one of the\nvictims, in spite of the entreaties of his father.  The ship\ndeparted under black sails, as usual, which Theseus promised his\nfather to change for white, in case of his returning victorious.\nWhen they arrived in Crete, the youths and maidens were exhibited\nbefore Minos; and Ariadne, the daughter of the king, being\npresent, became deeply enamored of Theseus, by whom her love was\nreadily returned.  She furnished him with a sword, with which to\nencounter the Minotaur, and with a clew of thread by which he\nmight find his way out of the labyrinth.  He was successful, slew\nthe Minotaur, escaped from the labyrinth, and taking Ariadne as\nthe companion of his way, with his rescued companions sailed for\nAthens.  On their way they stopped at the island of Naxos, where\nTheseus abandoned Ariadne, leaving her asleep.  For Minerva had\nappeared to Theseus in a dream, and warned him that Ariadne was\ndestined to be the wife of Bacchus, the wine-god.  (One of the\nfinest pieces of sculpture in Italy, the recumbent Ariadne of the\nVatican, represents this incident.  A copy is in the Athenaeum\ngallery, Boston.  The celebrated statue of Ariadne, by Danneker,\nrepresents her as riding on the tiger of Bacchus, at a somewhat\nlater period of her story.)\n\nOn approaching the coast of Attica, Theseus, intent on Ariadne,\nforgot the signal appointed by his father, and neglected to raise\nthe white sails, and the old king, thinking his son had perished,\nput an end to his own life.  Theseus thus became king of Athens.\n\nOne of the most celebrated of the adventures of Theseus is his\nexpedition against the Amazons.  He assailed them before they had\nrecovered from the attack of Hercules, and carried off their\nqueen, Antiope.  The Amazons in their turn invaded the country of\nAthens and penetrated into the city itself; and the final battle\nin which Theseus overcame them was fought in the very midst of\nthe city.  This battle was one of the favorite subjects of the\nancient sculptors, and is commemorated in several works of art\nthat are still extant.\n\nThe friendship between Theseus and Pirithous was of a most\nintimate nature, yet it originated in the midst of arms.\nPirithous had made an irruption into the plain of Marathon, and\ncarried off the herds of the king of Athens.  Theseus went to\nrepel the plunderers.  The moment Pirithous beheld him, he was\nseized with admiration; he stretched out his hand as a token of\npeace, and cried, \"Be judge thyself,   what satisfaction dost\nthou require?\"  \"Thy friendship,\" replied the Athenian, and they\nswore inviolable fidelity.  Their deeds corresponded to their\nprofessions, and they ever continued true brothers in arms.  Each\nof them aspired to espouse a daughter of Jupiter.  Theseus fixed\nhis choice on Helen, then but a child, afterwards so celebrated\nas the cause of the Trojan war, and with the aid of his friend he\ncarried her off.  Pirithous aspired to the wife of the monarch of\nErebus; and Theseus, though aware of the danger, accompanied the\nambitious lover in his descent to the underworld.  But Pluto\nseized and set them on an enchanted rock at his palace gate,\nwhere they remained till Hercules arrived and liberated Theseus,\nleaving Pirithous to his fate.\n\nAfter the death of Antiope, Theseus married Phaedra, daughter of\nMinos, king of Crete.  Phaedra saw in Hippolytus, the son of\nTheseus, a youth endowed with all the graces and virtues of his\nfather, and of an age corresponding to her own.  She loved him,\nbut he repulsed her advances, and her love was changed to hate.\nShe used her influence over her infatuated husband to cause him\nto be jealous of his son, and he imprecated the vengeance of\nNeptune upon him.  As Hippolytus was one day driving his chariot\nalong the shore, a sea-monster raised himself above the waters,\nand frightened the horses so that they ran away and dashed the\nchariot to pieces.  Hippolytus was killed, but by Diana's\nassistance Aesculapius restored him to life.  Diana removed\nHippolytus from the power of his deluded father and false\nstepmother, and placed him in Italy under the protection of the\nnymph Egeria.\n\nTheseus at length lost the favor of his people, and retired to\nthe court of Lycomedes, king of Scyros, who at first received him\nkindly, but afterwards treacherously slew him.  In a later age\nthe Athenian general Cimon discovered the place where his remains\nwere laid, and caused them to be removed to Athens, where they\nwere deposited in a temple called the Theseum, erected in honor\nof the hero.\n\nThe queen of the Amazons whom Theseus espoused is by some called\nHippolyta.  That is the name she bears in Shakespeare's Midsummer\nNight's Dream,   the subject of which is the festivities\nattending the nuptials of Theseus and Hippolyta.\n\nMrs. Hemans has a poem on the ancient Greek tradition that the\n\"Shade of Theseus\" appeared strengthening his countrymen at the\nbattle of Marathon.\n\nMr. Lewis Morris has a beautiful poem on Helen, in the Epic of\nHades.  In these lines Helen describes how she was seized by\nTheseus and his friend:\n\n  ----\"There came a night\n  When I lay longing for my love, and knew\n  Sudden the clang of hoofs, the broken doors,\n  The clash of swords, the shouts, the groans, the stain\n  Of red upon the marble, the fixed gaze\n  Of dead and dying eyes,   that was the time\n  When first I looked on death,   and when I woke\n  From my deep swoon, I felt the night air cool\n  Upon my brow, and the cold stars look down,\n  As swift we galloped o'er the darkling plain\n  And saw the chill sea-glimpses slowly wake,\n  With arms unknown around me.  When the dawn\n  Broke swift, we panted on the pathless steeps,\n  And so by plain and mountain till we came\n       to Athens, ----.\"\n\nTheseus is a semi-historical personage.  It is recorded of him\nthat he united the several tribes by whom the territory of Attica\nwas then possessed into one state, of which Athens was the\ncapital.  In commemoration of this important event, he instituted\nthe festival of Panathenaea, in honor of Minerva, the patron\ndeity of Athens.  This festival differed from the other Grecian\ngames chiefly in two particulars.  It was peculiar to the\nAthenians, and its chief feature was a solemn procession in which\nthe Peplus or sacred robe of Minerva was carried to the\nParthenon, and suspended before the statue of the goddess.  The\nPeplus was covered with embroidery, worked by select virgins of\nthe noblest families in Athens.  The procession consisted of\npersons of all ages and both sexes.  The old men carried olive-\nbranches in their hands, and the young men bore arms.  The young\nwomen carried baskets on their heads, containing the sacred\nutensils, cakes, and all things necessary for the sacrifices.\nThe procession formed the subject of the bas-reliefs by Phidias\nwhich embellished the outside of the temple of the Parthenon.  A\nconsiderable portion of these sculptures is now in the British\nmuseum among those known as the \"Elgin marbles.\"\n\n\nOLYMPIC AND OTHER GAMES\n\nWe may mention here the other celebrated national games of the\nGreeks.  The first and most distinguished were the Olympic,\nfounded, it was said , by Jupiter himself.  They were celebrated\nat Olympia in Elis.  Vast numbers of spectators flocked to them\nfrom every part of Greece, and from Asia, Africa, and Sicily.\nThey were repeated every fifth year in midsummer, and continued\nfive days.  They gave rise to the custom of reckoning time and\ndating events by Olympiads.  The first Olympiad is generally\nconsidered as corresponding with the year 776 B.C.  The Pythian\ngames were celebrated in the vicinity of Delphi, the Isthmian on\nthe Corinthian isthmus, the Nemean at Nemea, a city of Argolis.\n\nThe exercises in these games were of five sorts: running,\nleaping, wrestling, throwing the quoit, and hurling the javelin,\nor boxing.  Besides these exercises of bodily strength and\nagility, there were contests in music, poetry, and eloquence.\nThus these games furnished poets, musicians, and authors the best\nopportunities to present their productions to the public, and the\nfame of the victors was diffused far and wide.\n\n\nDAEDALUS\n\nThe labyrinth from which Theseus escaped by means of the clew of\nAriadne, was built by Daedalus, a most skilful artificer.  It was\nan edifice with numberless winding passages and turnings opening\ninto one another, and seeming to have neither beginning nor end,\nlike the river Maender, which returns on itself, and flows now\nonward, now backward, in its course to the sea.  Daedalus built\nthe labyrinth for King Minos, but afterwards lost the favor of\nthe king, and was shut up in a tower.  He contrived to make his\nescape from his prison, but could not leave the island by sea, as\nthe king kept strict watch on all the vessels, and permitted none\nto sail without being carefully searched.  \"Minos may control the\nland and sea,:\" said Daedalus, \"but not the regions of the air.\nI will try that way.\"  So he set to work to fabricate wings for\nhimself and his young son Icarus.  He wrought feathers together\nbeginning with the smallest and adding larger, so as to form an\nincreasing surface.  The larger ones he secured with thread and\nthe smaller with wax, and gave the whole a gentle curvature like\nthe wings of a bird.  Icarus, the boy, stood and looked on,\nsometimes running to gather up the feathers which the wind had\nblown away, and then handling the wax and working it over with\nhis fingers, by his play impeding his father in his labors.  When\nat last the work was done, the artist, waving his wings, found\nhimself buoyed upward and hung suspended, poising himself on the\nbeaten air.  He next equipped his son in the same manner, and\ntaught him how to fly, as a bird tempts her young ones from the\nlofty nest into the air.  When all was prepared for flight, he\nsaid, \"Icarus, my son, I charge you to keep at a moderate height,\nfor if you fly too low the damp will clog your wings, and if too\nhigh the heat will melt them.  Keep near me and you will be\nsafe.\"  While he gave him these instructions and fitted the wings\nto his shoulders, the face of the father was wet with tears, and\nhis hands trembled.  He kissed the boy, not knowing that it was\nfor the last time.  Then rising on his wings he flew off,\nencouraging him to follow, and looked back from his own flight to\nsee how his son managed his wings.  As they flew the ploughman\nstopped his work to gaze, and the shepherd learned on his staff\nand watched them, astonished at the sight, and thinking they were\ngods who could thus cleave the air.\n\nThey passed Samos and Delos on the left and Lebynthos on the\nright, when the boy, exulting in his career, began to leave the\nguidance of his companion and soar upward as if to reach heaven.\nThe nearness of the blazing sun softened the wax which held the\nfeathers together, and they came off.  He fluttered with his\narms, but no feathers remained to hold the air.  While his mouth\nuttered cries to his father, it was submerged in the blue waters\nof the sea, which thenceforth was called by his name.  His father\ncried, \"Icarus, Icarus, where are you?\" At last he saw the\nfeathers floating on the water, and bitterly lamenting his own\narts, he buried the body and called the land Icaria in memory of\nhis child.  Daedalus arrived safe in Sicily, where he built a\ntemple to Apollo, and hung up his wings, an offering to the god.\n\nDaedalus was so proud of his achievements that he could not bear\nthe idea of a rival.  His sister had placed her son Perdix under\nhis charge to be taught the mechanical arts.  He was an apt\nscholar and gave striking evidences of ingenuity.  Walking\non the seashore he picked up the spine of a fish.  Imitating it,\nhe took a piece of iron and notched it on the edge, and thus\ninvented the SAW.  He put two pieces of iron together, connecting\nthem at one end with a rivet, and sharpening the other ends, and\nmade a PAIR OF COMPASSES.  Daedalus was so envious of his\nnephew's performances that he took an opportunity, when they were\ntogether one day on the top of a high tower, to push him off.\nBut Minerva, who favors ingenuity, saw him falling, and arrested\nhis fate by changing him into a bird called after his name, the\nPartridge.  This bird does not build his next in the trees, nor\ntake lofty flights, but nestles in the hedges, and mindful of his\nfall, avoids high places.\n\nThe death of Icarus is told in the following lines by Darwin:\n\n  \"---- with melting wax and loosened strings\n  Sunk hapless Icarus on unfaithful wings;\n  Headlong he rushed through the affrighted air,\n  With limbs distorted and dishevelled hair;\n  His scattered plumage danced upon the wave,\n  And sorrowing Nereids decked his watery grave;\n  O'er his pale corse their pearly sea-flowers shed,\n  And strewed with crimson moss his marble bed;\n  Struck in their coral towers the passing bell,\n  And wide in ocean tolled his echoing knell.\"\n\n\nCASTOR AND POLLUX\n\nCastor and Pollux were the offspring of Leda and the Swan, under\nwhich disguise Jupiter had concealed himself.  Leda gave birth to\nan egg, from which sprang the twins.  Helen, so famous afterwards\nas the cause of the Trojan war, was their sister.\n\nWhen Theseus and his friend Pirithous had carried off Helen from\nSparta, the youthful heroes Castor and Pollux, with their\nfollowers, hasted to her rescue.  Theseus was absent from Attica,\nand the brothers were successful in recovering their sister.\n\nCastor was famous for taming and managing horses, and Pollux for\nskill in boxing.  They were united by the warmest affection, and\ninseparable in all their enterprises.  They accompanied the\nArgonautic expedition.  During the voyage a storm arose, and\nOrpheus prayed to the Samothracian gods, and played on his harp,\nwhereupon the storm ceased and stars appeared on the heads of the\nbrothers.  From this incident, Castor and Pollux came afterwards\nto be considered the patron deities of seamen and voyagers (One\nof the ships in which St. Paul sailed was named the Castor and\nPollux.  See Acts xxviii.II.), and the lambent flames, which in\ncertain sates of the atmosphere play round the sails and masts of\nvessels, were called by their names.\n\nAfter the Argonautic expedition, we find Castor and Pollux\nengaged in a war with Idas and Lynceus.  Castor was slain, and\nPollux, inconsolable for the loss of his brother, besought\nJupiter to be permitted to give his own life as a ransom for him.\nJupiter so far consented as to allow the two brothers to enjoy\nthe boon of life alternately, passing one day under the earth and\nthe next in the heavenly abodes.  According to another form of\nthe story, Jupiter rewarded the attachment of the brothers by\nplacing them among the stars as Gemini, the Twins.\n\nThey received divine honors under the name of Dioscuri (sons of\nJove).  They were believed to have appeared occasionally in later\ntimes, taking part with one side or the other, in hard-fought\nfields, and were said on such occasions to be mounted on\nmagnificent white steeds.  Thus, in the early history of Rome,\nthey are said to have assisted the Romans at the battle of Lake\nRegillus, and after the victory a temple was erected in their\nhonor on the spot where they appeared.\n\nMacaulay, in his Lays of Ancient Rome, thus alludes to the\nlegend:\n\n  \"So like they were, no mortal\n  Might one from other know;\n  White as snow their armor was,\n  Their steeds were white as snow.\n  Never on earthly anvil\n  Did such rare armor gleam,\n  And never did such gallant steeds\n  Drink of an earthly stream.\n  .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .\n\n  \"Back comes the chief in triumph\n  Who in the hour of fight\n  Hath seen the great Twin Brethren\n  In harness on his right.\n  Safe comes the ship to haven\n  Through billows and through gales,\n  If once the great Twin Brethren\n  Sit shining on the sails.\"\n\nIn the poem of Atalanta in Calydon Mr. Swinburne thus describes\nthe little Helen and Clytemnestra, the sisters of Castor and\nPollux:\n\n  MELEAGER\n\n  \"Even such I saw their sisters, one swan white,\n  The little Helen, and less fair than she,\n  Fair Clytemnestra, grave as pasturing fawns,\n  Who feed and fear the arrow; but at whiles,\n  As one smitten with love or wrung with joy,\n  She laughs and lightens with her eyes, and then\n  Weeps; whereat Helen, having laughed, weeps too,\n  And the other chides her, and she being chid speaks naught,\n  But cheeks and lips and eyelids kisses her,\n  Laughing; so fare they, as in their blameless bud,\n  And full of unblown life, the blood of gods.\"\n\n  ALTHEA\n\n  \"Sweet days before them, and good loves and lords,\n  And tender and temperate honors of the hearth;\n  Peace, and a perfect life and blameless bed\"\n\n\n\nChapter XIV\n\nBacchus.  Ariadne\n\nBacchus was the son of Jupiter and Semele.  Juno, to gratify her\nresentment against Semele, contrived a plan for her destruction.\nAssuming the form of Beroe, her aged nurse, she insinuated doubts\nwhether it was indeed Jove himself who came as a lover.  Heaving\na sigh, she said, \"I hope it will turn out so, but I can't help\nbeing afraid.  People are not always what they pretend to be.  If\nhe is indeed Jove, make him give some proof of it.  Ask him to\ncome arrayed in all his splendors, such as he wears in heaven.\nThat will put the matter beyond a doubt.\"  Semele was persuaded\nto try the experiment.  She asks a favor, without naming what it\nis.  Jove gives his promise and confirms it with the irrevocable\noath, attesting the river Styx, terrible to the gods themselves.\nThen she made know her request.  The god would have stopped her\nas she spake, but she was too quick for him.  The words escaped,\nand he could neither unsay his promise nor her request.  In deep\ndistress he left her and returned to the upper regions.  There he\nclothed himself in his splendors, not putting on all his terrors,\nas when he overthrew the giants, but what is known among the gods\nas his lesser panoply.  Arrayed in this he entered the chamber of\nSemele.  Her mortal frame could not endure the splendors of the\nimmortal radiance.  She was consumed to ashes.\n\nJove took the infant Bacchus and gave him in charge to the\nNysaean nymphs, who nourished his infancy and childhood, and for\ntheir care were rewarded by Jupiter by being placed, as the\nHyades, among the stars.  When Bacchus grew up he discovered the\nculture of the vine and the mode of extracting its precious\njuice; but Juno struck him with madness, and drove him forth a\nwanderer through various parts of the earth.  In Phrygia the\ngoddess Rhea cured him and taught him her religious rites, and he\nset out on a progress through Asia teaching the people the\ncultivation of the vine.  The most famous part of his wanderings\nis his expedition to India, which is said to have lasted several\nyears.  Returning in triumph he undertook to introduce his\nworship into Greece, but was opposed by some princes who dreaded\nits introduction on account of the disorders and madness it\nbrought with it.\n\nAs he approached his native city Thebes, Pentheus the king, who\nhad no respect for the new worship, forbade its rites to be\nperformed.  But when it was known that Bacchus was advancing, men\nand women, but chiefly the latter, young and old poured forth to\nmeet him and to join his triumphal march.\n\nMr. Longfellow in his Drinking Song thus describes the march of\nBacchus:\n\n  \"Fauns with youthful Bacchus follow;\n  Ivy crowns that brow, supernal\n  As the forehead of Apollo,\n  And possessing youth eternal.\n\n  \"Round about him fair Bacchantes,\n  Bearing cymbals, flutes and thyrses,\n  Wild from Naxian groves or Zante's\n  Vineyards, sing delirious verses.\"\n\nIt was in vain Pentheus remonstrated, commanded, and threatened.\n\"Go,\" said he to his attendants, \"seize this vagabond leader of\nthe rout and bring him to me.  I will soon make him confess his\nfalse claim of heavenly parentage and renounce his counterfeit\nworship.\"  It was in vain his nearest friends and wisest\ncounselors remonstrated and begged him not to oppose the god.\nTheir remonstrances only made him more violent.\n\nBut now the attendants returned whom he had despatched to seize\nBacchus.  They had been driven away by the Bacchanals, but had\nsucceeded in taking one of them prisoner, whom, with his hands\ntied behind him, they brought before the king.  Pentheus\nbeholding him, with wrathful countenance said, \"Fellow!  You\nshall speedily be put to death, that your fate may be a warning\nto others; but though I grudge the delay of your punishment,\nspeak, tell us who you are, and what are these new rites you\npresume to celebrate.\"\n\nThe prisoner unterrified responded, \"My name is Acetes; my\ncountry is Maeonia; my parents were poor people, who had no\nfields or flocks to leave me, but they left me their fishing rods\nand nets and their fisherman's trade.  This I followed for some\ntime, till growing weary of remaining in one place, I learned the\npilot's art and how to guide my course by the stars.  It happened\nas I was sailing for Delos, we touched at the island of Dia and\nwent ashore.  Next morning I sent the men for fresh water and\nmyself mounted the hill to observe the wind; when my men returned\nbringing with them a prize, as they thought, a boy of delicate\nappearance, whom they had found asleep.  They judged he was a\nnoble youth, perhaps a king's son, and they might get a liberal\nransom for him.  I observed his dress, his walk, his face.  There\nwas something in them which I felt sure was more than mortal.  I\nsaid to my men, 'What god there is concealed in that form I know\nnot, but some one there certainly is.  Pardon us, gentle deity,\nfor the violence we have done you, and give success to our\nundertakings.'  Dictys, one of my best hands for climbing the\nmast and coming down by the ropes, and Melanthus, my steersman,\nand Epopeus the leader of the sailors' cry, one and all\nexclaimed, 'Spare your prayers for us.'  So blind is the lust of\ngain!  When they proceeded to put him on board I resisted them.\n'This ship shall not be profaned by such impiety,' said I. 'I\nhave a greater share in her than any of you.'  But Lycabas, a\nturbulent fellow, seized me by the throat and attempted to throw\nme overboard, and I scarcely saved myself by clinging to the\nropes.  The rest approved the deed.\n\n\"Then Bacchus, for it was indeed he, as if shaking off his\ndrowsiness, exclaimed, 'What are you doing with me?  What is this\nfighting about?  Who brought me here?  Where are you going to\ncarry me?'  One of them replied, 'fear nothing; tell us where you\nwish to go and we will take you there.'  \"Naxos is my home,' said\nBacchus; 'take me there and you shall be well rewarded.'  They\npromised so to do, and told me to pilot the ship to Naxos.  Naxos\nlay to the right, and I was trimming the sails to carry us there,\nwhen some by signs and others by whispers signified to me their\nwill that I should sail in the opposite direction, and take the\nboy to Egypt to sell him for a slave.  I was confounded and said,\n'Let some one else pilot the ship;' withdrawing myself from any\nfurther agency in their wickedness.  They cursed me, and one of\nthem exclaiming, 'Don't flatter yourself that we depend on you\nfor our safety,' took my place as pilot, and bore away from\nNaxos.\n\n\"Then the god, pretending that he had just become aware of their\ntreachery, looked out over the sea and said in a voice of\nweeping, 'Sailors, these are not the shores you promised to take\nme to; yonder island is not my home.  What have I done that you\nshould treat me so?  It is small glory you will gain by cheating\na poor boy.'  I wept to hear him, but the crew laughed at both of\nus, and sped the vessel fast over the sea.  All at once   strange\nas it may seem, it is true   the vessel stopped, in the mid sea,\nas fast as if it was fixed on the ground.  The men, astonished,\npulled at their oars, and spread more sail, trying to make\nprogress by the aid of both, but all in vain.  Ivy twined round\nthe oars and hindered their motion, and clung with its heavy\nclusters of berries to the sails.  A vine, laden with grapes, ran\nup the mast, and along the sides of the vessel.  The sound of\nflutes was heard and the odor of fragrant wine spread all around.\nThe god himself had a chaplet of vine leaves, and bore in his\nhand a spear wreathed with ivy.  Tigers crouched at his feet, and\nlynxes and spotted panthers played around him.  The sailors were\nseized with terror or madness; some leaped overboard; others,\npreparing to do the same, beheld their companions in the water\nundergoing a change, their bodies becoming flattened and ending\nin a crooked tail.  One exclaimed, 'What miracle is this!' and as\nhe spoke his mouth widened, his nostrils expanded, and scales\ncovered all his body.  Another endeavoring to pull the oar felt\nhis hands shrink up, and presently to be no longer hands but\nfins; another trying to raise his arms to a rope found he had no\narms, and curving his mutilated body, jumped into the sea.  What\nhad been his legs became the two ends of a crescent-shaped tail.\nThe whole crew became dolphins and swam about the ship, now upon\nthe surface, now under it, scattering the spray, and spouting the\nwater from their broad nostrils.  Of twenty men I alone was left.\nThe god cheered me, as I trembled with fear.  'Fear not,' said\nhe; 'steer toward Naxos.'  I obeyed, and when we arrived there, I\nkindled the altars and celebrated the sacred rites of Bacchus.\"\n\nPentheus here exclaimed, \"We have wasted time enough on this\nsilly story.  Take him away and have him executed without delay.\"\nAcetes was led away by the attendants and shut up fast in prison;\nbut while they were getting ready the instruments of execution,\nthe prison doors opened of their own accord and the chains fell\nfrom his limbs, and when the guards looked for him he was no\nwhere to be found.\n\nPentheus would take no warning, but instead of sending others,\ndetermined to go himself to the scene of the solemnities.  The\nmountain Cithaeron was all alive with worshippers, and the cries\nof the Bacchanals resounded on every side.  The noise roused the\nanger of Pentheus as the sound of a trumpet does the fire of a\nwar-horse.  He penetrated the wood and reached an open space\nwhere the wildest scene of the orgies met his eyes.  At the same\nmoment the women saw him; and first among them his own mother,\nAgave, blinded by the god, cried out, \"See there the wild boar,\nthe hugest monster that prowls in these woods!  Come on, sisters!\nI will be the first to strike the wild boar.\"  The whole band\nrushed upon him, and while he now talks less arrogantly, now\nexcuses himself, and now confesses his crime and implores pardon,\nthey press upon and wound him.  In vain he cries to his aunts to\nprotect him from his mother.  Autonoe seized one arm, Ino the\nother, and between them he was torn to pieces, while his mother\nshouted, \"Victory!  Victory!  We have done it; the glory is\nours!\"\n\nSo the worship of Bacchus was established in Greece.\n\nThere is an allusion to the story of Bacchus and the mariners in\nMilton's Comus, at line 46.  The story of Circe will be found in\nChapter XXII.\n\n  \"Bacchus that first from out the purple grape\n  Crushed the sweet poison of misused wine,\n  After the Tuscan mariners transformed,\n  Coasting the Tyrrhene shore as the winds listed\n  On Circe's island fell; (who knows not Circe,\n  The daughter of the Sun?  Whose charmed cup\n  Whoever tasted lost his upright shape,\n  And downward fell into a grovelling swine.)\"\n\n\nARIADNE\n\nWe have seen in the story of Theseus how Ariadne, the daughter of\nKing Minos, after helping Theseus to escape from the labyrinth,\nwas carried by him to the island of Naxos and was left there\nasleep, while Theseus pursued his way home without her.  Ariadne,\non waking and finding herself deserted, abandoned herself to\ngrief.  But Venus took pity on her, and consoled her with the\npromise that she should have an immortal lover, instead of the\nmortal one she had lost.\n\nThe island where Ariadne was left was the favorite island of\nBacchus, the same that he wished the Tyrrhenian mariners to carry\nhim to, when they so treacherously attempted to make prize of\nhim.  As Ariadne sat lamenting her fate, Bacchus found her,\nconsoled her and made her his wife as Minerva had prophesied to\nTheseus.  As a marriage present he gave her a golden crown,\nenriched with gems, and when she died, he took her crown and\nthrew it up into the sky.  As it mounted the gems grew brighter\nand were turned into stars, and preserving its form Ariadne's\ncrown remains fixed in the heavens as a constellation, between\nthe kneeling Hercules and the man who holds the serpent.\n\nSpenser alludes to Ariadne's crown, though he has made some\nmistakes in his mythology.  It was at the wedding of Pirithous,\nand not Theseus, that the Centaurs and Lapithae quarrelled.\n\n  \"Look how the crown which Ariadne wore\n  Upon her ivory forehead that same day\n  That Theseus her unto his bridal bore,\n  When the bold Centaurs made that bloody fray\n  With the fierce Lapiths which did them dismay;\n  Being now placed in the firmament,\n  Through the bright heaven doth her beams display,\n  And is unto the stars an ornament,\n  Which round about her move in order excellent.\"\n\n\n\nChapter XV\n\nThe Rural Deities.  Erisichthon.  Rhoecus.  The Water Deities.\nCamenae.  Winds.\n\nPan, the god of woods and fields, of flocks and shepherds, dwelt\nin grottos, wandered on the mountains and in valleys, and amused\nhimself with the chase or in leading the dances of the nymphs.\nHe was fond of music, and, as we have seen, the inventor of the\nsyrinx, or shepherd's pipe, which he himself played in a masterly\nmanner.  Pan, like other gods who dwelt in forests, was dreaded\nby those whose occupations caused them to pass through the woods\nby night, for the gloom and loneliness of such scenes dispose the\nmind to superstitious fears.  Hence sudden fright without any\nvisible cause was ascribed to Pan, and called a Panic terror.\n\nAs the name of the god signifies in Greek, ALL, Pan came to be\nconsidered a symbol of the universe and personification of\nNature; and later still to be regarded as a representative of all\nthe gods, and heathenism itself.\n\nSylvanus and Faunus were Latin divinities, whose characteristics\nare so nearly the same as those of Pan that we may safely\nconsider them as the same personage under different names.\n\nThe wood-nymphs, Pan's partners in the dance, were but one of\nseveral classes of nymphs.  There were beside them the Naiads,\nwho presided over brooks and fountains, the Oreads, nymphs of\nmountains and grottos, and the Nereids, sea-nymphs.  The three\nlast named were immortal, but the wood-nymphs, called Dryads or\nHamadryads, were believed to perish with the trees which had been\ntheir abode, and with which they had come into existence.  It was\ntherefore an impious act wantonly to destroy a tree, and in some\naggravated cases was severely punished, as in the instance of\nErisichthon, which we shall soon record.\n\nMilton, in his glowing description of the early creation, thus\nalludes to Pan as the personification of Nature:\n\n  \"Universal Pan,\n  Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance,\n  Led on the eternal spring.\"\n\nAnd describing Eve's abode:\n\n  \"In shadier bower\n  More sacred or sequestered, though but feigned,\n  Pan or Sylvanus never slept, nor nymph\n  Nor Faunus haunted.\"\n  Paradise lost, B. IV.\n\nIt was a pleasing trait in the old Paganism that it loved to\ntrace in every operation of nature the agency of deity.  The\nimagination of the Greeks peopled all the regions of earth and\nsea with divinities, to whose agency it attributed those\nphenomena which our philosophy ascribes to the operation of the\nlaws of nature.  Sometimes in our poetical moods we feel disposed\nto regret the change, and to think that the heart has lost as\nmuch as the head has gained by the substitution.  The poet\nWordsworth thus strongly expresses this sentiment:\n\n  \"Great God, I'd rather be\n  A Pagan, suckled in a creed outworn.\n  So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,\n  Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;\n  Have sight of Proteus rising from th4e sea,\n  And hear old Tritou blow his wreathed horn.\"\n\nSchiller, in his poem The Gods of Greece, expresses his regret\nfor the overthrow of the beautiful mythology of ancient times in\na way which has called forth an answer from a Christian poetess,\nMrs. Browning, in her poem called The Dead Pan.  The two\nfollowing verses are a specimen:\n\n  \"By your beauty which confesses\n  Some chief Beauty conquering you,\n  By our grand heroic guesses\n  Through your falsehood at the True,\n  We will weep NOT!  Earth shall roll\n  Heir to each god's aureole,\n  And Pan is dead.\n\n  \"Earth outgrows the mythic fancies\n  Sung beside her in her youth;\n  And those debonaire romances\n  Sound but dull beside the truth.\n  Phoebus' chariot course is run!\n  Look up poets, to the sun!\n  Pan, Pan is dead.\"\n\nThese lines are founded on an early Christian tradition that when\nthe heavenly host told the shepherds at Bethlehem of the birth of\nChrist, a deep groan, heard through all the isles of Greece, told\nthat the great Pan was dead, and that all the royalty of Olympus\nwas dethroned, and the several deities were sent wandering in\ncold and darkness.  So Milton, in his Hymn to the Nativity:\n\n  \"The lonely mountains o'er,\n  And the resounding shore,\n  A voice of weeping heard and loud lament;\n  From haunted spring and dale,\n  Edged with poplar pale,\n  The parting genius is with sighing sent;\n  With flower-enwoven tresses torn,\n  The nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.\"\n\n\nERISICHTHON\n\nErisichthon was a profane person and a despiser of the gods.  On\none occasion he presumed to violate with the axe a grove sacred\nto Ceres.  There stood in this grove a venerable oak, so large\nthat it seemed a wood in itself, its ancient trunk towering\naloft, whereon votive garlands were often hung and inscriptions\ncarved expressing the gratitude of suppliants to the nymph of the\ntree.  Often had the Dryads danced round it hand in hand.  Its\ntrunk measured fifteen cubits round, and it overtopped the other\ntrees as they overtopped the shrubbery.  But for all that,\nErisichthon saw no reason why he should spare it, and he ordered\nhis servants to cut it down.  When he saw them hesitate, he\nsnatched an axe from one, and thus impiously exclaimed, :\"I care\nnot whether it be a tree beloved of the Goddess or not; were it\nthe goddess herself it should come down, if it stood in my way.\"\nSo saying, he lifted the axe, and the oak seemed to shudder and\nutter a groan.  When the first blow fell upon the trunk, blood\nflowed from the wound.  All the bystanders were horror-struck,\nand one of them ventured to remonstrate and hold back the fatal\naxe.  Erisichthon with a scornful look, said to him, \"Receive the\nreward of your piety;\" and turned against him the weapon which he\nhad held aside from the tree, gashed his body with many wounds,\nand cut off his head.  Then from the midst of the oak came a\nvoice, \"I who dwell in this tree am a nymph beloved of Ceres, and\ndying by your hands, forewarn you that punishment awaits you.\"\nHe desisted not from his crime, and at last the tree, sundered by\nrepeated blows and drawn by ropes, fell with a crash, and\nprostrated a great part of the grove in its fall.\n\nThe Dryads, in dismay at the loss of their companion, and at\nseeing the pride of the forest laid low, went in a body to Ceres,\nall clad in garments of mourning, and invoked punishment upon\nErisichthon.  She nodded her assent, and as she bowed her head\nthe grain ripe for harvest in the laden fields bowed also.  She\nplanned a punishment so dire that one would pity him, if such a\nculprit as he could be pitied   to deliver him over to Famine.\nAs Ceres herself could not approach Famine, for the Fates have\nordained that these two goddesses shall never come together, she\ncalled an Oread from her mountain and spoke to her in these\nwords: \"There is a place in the farthest part of ice-clad\nScythia, a sad and sterile region without trees and without\ncrops.  Cold dwells there, and Fear, and Shuddering, and Famine.\nGo to Famine and tell her to take possession of the bowels of\nErisichthon.  Let not abundance subdue her, nor the power of my\ngifts drive her away.  Be not alarmed at the distance,\" (for\nFamine dwells very far from Ceres,) \"but take my chariot.  The\ndragons are fleet and obey the rein, and will take you through\nthe air in a short time.\"  So she gave her the reins, and she\ndrove away and soon reached Scythia.  On arriving at Mount\nCaucasus she stopped the dragons and found Famine in a stony\nfield, pulling up with teeth and claws the scanty herbage.  Her\nhair was rough, her eyes sunk, her face pale, her lips blanched,\nher jaws covered with dust, and her skin drawn tight, so as to\nshow all her bones.  As the Oread saw her afar off (for she did\nnot dare to come near) she delivered the commands of Ceres; and\nthough she stopped as short a time as possible, and kept her\ndistance as well as she could, yet she began to feel hungry, and\nturned the dragons' heads and drove back to Thessaly.\n\nIn obedience to the commands of Ceres, Famine sped through the\nair to the dwelling of Erisichthon, entered the bed-chamber of\nthe guilty man, and found him asleep.  She enfolded him with her\nwings and breathed herself into him, infusing her poison into his\nveins.  Having discharged her task, she hastened to leave the\nland of plenty and returned to her accustomed haunts.\nErisichthon still slept, and in his dreams craved food, and moved\nhis jaws as if eating.  When he awoke his hunger was raging.\nWithout a moment's delay he would have food set before him, of\nwhatever kind earth, sea, or air produces; and complained of\nhunger even while he ate.  What would have sufficed for a city or\na nation was not enough for him.  The more he ate, the move he\ncraved.  His hunger was like the sea, which receives all the\nrivers, yet is never filled; or like fire that burns all the fuel\nthat is heaped upon it, yet is still voracious for more.\n\nHis property rapidly diminished under the unceasing demands of\nhis appetite, but his hunger continued unabated.  At length he\nhad spent all, and had only his daughter left, a daughter worthy\nof a better parent.  HER TOO HE SOLD.  She scorned to be the\nslave of a purchaser, and as she stood by the seaside, raised her\nhands in prayer to Neptune.  He heard her prayer, and, though her\nnew master was not far off, and had his eye upon her a moment\nbefore, Neptune changed her form, and made her assume that of a\nfisherman busy at his occupation.  Her master, looking for her\nand seeing her in her altered form, addressed her and said, \"Good\nfisherman, whither went the maiden whom I saw just now, with hair\ndishevelled and in humble garb, standing about where you stand?\nTell me truly; so may your luck be good, and not a fish nibble at\nyour hook and get away.\"   She perceived that her prayer was\nanswered, and rejoiced inwardly at hearing the question asked her\nof herself.  She replied, \"Pardon me, stranger, but I have been\nso intent upon my line, that I have seen nothing else; but I wish\nI may never catch another fish if I believe any woman or other\nperson except myself to have been hereabouts for some time.\"  He\nwas deceived and went his way, thinking his slave had escaped.\nThen she resumed her own form.  Her father was well pleased to\nfind her still with him, and the money too that he got by the\nsale of her; so he sold her again.  But she was changed by the\nfavor of Neptune as often as she was sold, now into a horse, now\na bird, now an ox, and now a stag,   got away from her purchasers\nand came home.  By this base method the starving father procured\nfood; but not enough for his wants, and at last hunger compelled\nhim to devour his limbs, and he strove to nourish his body by\neating his body, till death relieved him from the vengeance of\nCeres.\n\n\nRHOECUS\n\nThe Hamadryads could appreciate services as well as punish\ninjuries.  The story of Rhoecus proves this.  Rhoecus, happening\nto see an oak just ready to fall, ordered his servants to prop it\nup.  The nymph, who had been on the point of perishing with the\ntree, came and expressed her gratitude to him for having saved\nher life, and bade him ask what reward he would have for it.\nRhoecus boldly asked her love, and the nymph yielded to his\ndesire.  She at the same time charged him to be constant, and\ntold him that a bee should be her messenger, and let him know\nwhen she would admit his society.  One time the bee came to\nRhoecus when he was playing at draughts, and he carelessly\nbrushed it away.  This so incensed the nymph that she deprived\nhim of sight.\n\nOur countryman, James Russell Lowell, has taken this story for\nthe subject of one of his shorter poems.  He introduces it thus:\n\n  \"Hear now this fairy legend of old Greece,\n  As full of freedom, youth and beauty still,\n  As the immortal freshness of that grace\n  Carved for all ages on some Attic frieze.\"\n\n\nTHE WATER DEITIES\n\nOceanus and Tethys were the Titans who ruled over the Sea.  When\nJove and his brothers overthrew the Titans and assumed their\npower, Neptune and Amphitrite succeeded to the dominion of the\nwaters in place of Oceanus and Tethys.\n\n\nNEPTUNE\n\nNeptune was the chief of the water deities.  The symbol of his\npower was the trident, or spear with three points, with which he\nused to shatter rocks, to call forth or subdue storms, to shake\nthe shores, and the like.  He created the horse, and was the\npatron of horse races.  His own horses had brazen hoofs and\ngolden manes.  They drew his chariot over the sea, which became\nsmooth before him, while the monsters of the deep gambolled about\nhis path.\n\n\nAMPHITRITE\n\nAmphitrite was the wife of Neptune.  She was the daughter of\nNereus and Doris, and the mother of Triton.  Neptune, to pay his\ncourt to Amphitrite, came riding on the dolphin.  Having won her,\nhe rewarded the dolphin by placing him among the stars.\n\n\nNEREUS AND DORIS\n\nNereus and Doris were the parents of the Nereids, the most\ncelebrated of whom were Amphitrite, Thetis, the mother of\nAchilles, and Galatea, who was loved by the Cyclops Polyphemus.\nNereus was distinguished for his knowledge, and his love of truth\nand justice, and is described as the wise and unerring Old Man of\nthe Sea.  The gift of prophecy was also ascribed to him.\n\n\nTRITON AND PROTEUS\n\nTriton was the son of Neptune and Amphitrite, and the poets make\nhim his father's trumpeter.  Proteus was also a son of Neptune.\nHe, like Nereus, is styled a sea-elder for his wisdom and\nknowledge of future events.   His peculiar power was that of\nchanging his shape at will.\n\n\nTHETIS\n\nThetis, the daughter of Nereus and Doris, was so beautiful that\nJupiter himself sought her in marriage; but having learned from\nPrometheus the Titan, that Thetis should bear a son who should be\ngreater than his father, Jupiter desisted from his suit and\ndecreed that Thetis should be the wife of a mortal.  By the aid\nof Chiron the Centaur, Peleus succeeded in winning the goddess\nfor his bride, and their son was the renowned Achilles.  In our\nchapter on the Trojan war it will appear that Thetis was a\nfaithful mother to him, aiding him in all difficulties, and\nwatching over his interests from the first to the last.\n\n\nLEUCOTHEA AND PALAEMON\n\nIno, the daughter of Cadmus and wife of Athamas, flying from her\nfrantic husband, with her little son Melicertes in her arms,\nsprang from a cliff into the sea.  The gods, out of compassion,\nmade her a goddess of the sea, under the name of Leucothea, and\nhim a god under that of Palaemon.  Both were held powerful to\nsave from shipwreck, and were invoked by sailors.  Palaemon was\nusually represented riding on a dolphin.  The Isthmian games were\ncelebrated in his honor.  He was called Portumnus by the Romans,\nand believed to have jurisdiction of the ports and shores.\n\nMilton alludes to all these deities in the song at the conclusion\nof Comus.\n\n  \"Sabrina fair,\n  Listen and appear to us,\n  In name of great Oceanus;\n  By the earth-shaking Neptune's mace,\n  And Tethys' grave, majestic pace,\n  By hoary Nereus' wrinkled look,\n  And the Carpathian wizard's hook (Proteus)\n  By scaly Triton's winding shell,\n  And old soothsaying Glaucus; spell,\n  By Leucothea's lovely hands,\n  And her son who rules the strands,\n  By Thetis' tinsel-slippered feet,\n  And the songs of Sirens sweet.\"\n\nArmstrong, the poet of the Art of preserving Health, under the\ninspiration of Hygeia, the goddess of health, thus celebrates the\nNaiads.  Paeon is a name both of Apollo and Aesculapius.\n\n  \"Come, ye Naiads!  To the fountains lead!\n  Propitious maids!  The task remains to sing\n  Your gifts (so Paeon, so the powers of health\n  Command), to praise your crystal element.\n  Oh, comfortable streams!  With eager lips\n  And trembling hands the languid thirsty quaff\n  New life in you; fresh vigor fills their veins.\n  No warmer cups the rural ages knew,\n  None warmer sought the sires of humankind;\n  Happy in temperate peace their equal days\n  Felt not the alternate fits of feverish mirth\n  And sick dejection; still serene and pleased,\n  Blessed with divine immunity from ills,\n  Long centuries they lived; their only fate\n  Was ripe old age, and rather sleep than death.\"\n\n\nTHE CAMENAE\n\nBy this name the Latins designated the Muses, but included under\nit also some other deities, principally nymphs of fountains.\nEgeria was one of them, whose fountain and grotto are still\nshown.  It was said that Numa, the second king of Rome, was\nfavored by this nymph with secret interviews, in which she taught\nhim those lessons of wisdom and of law which he embodied in the\ninstitutions of his rising nation.  After the death of Numa the\nnymph pined away and was changed into a fountain.\n\nByron, in Childe Harold, Canto IV., thus alludes to Egeria and\nher grotto:\n\n  \"Here didst thou dwell in this enchanted cover,\n  Egeria!  All thy heavenly bosom beating\n  For the far footsteps of thy mortal lover;\n  The purple midnight veiled that mystic meeting\n  With her most starry canopy.\"\n\nTennyson, also, in his Palace of Art, gives us a glimpse of the\nroyal lover expecting the interview.\n\n  \"Holding one hand against his ear,\n  To list a footfall ere he saw\n  The wood-nymph, stayed the Tuscan king to hear\n  Of wisdom and of law.\"\n\n\nTHE WINDS\n\nWhen so many less active agencies were personified, it is not to\nbe supposed that the winds failed to be so.  They were Boreas or\nAquilo, the north wind, Zephyrus or Favonius, the west, Notus or\nAuster, the south, and Eurus, the east.  The first two have been\nchiefly celebrated by the poets, the former as the type of\nrudeness, the latter of gentleness.  Boreas loved the nymph\nOrithyia, and tried to play the lover's part, but met with poor\nsuccess.  It was hard for him to breathe gently, and sighing was\nout of the question.  Weary at last of fruitless endeavors, he\nacted out his true character, seized the maiden and carried her\noff.  Their children were Zetes and Calais, winged warriors, who\naccompanied the Argonautic expedition, and did good service in an\nencounter with those monstrous birds the Harpies.\n\nZephyrus was the lover of Flora.  Milton alludes to them in\nParadise Lost, where he describes Adam waking and contemplating\nEve still asleep:\n\n  \"He on his side\n  Leaning half raised, with looks of cordial love\n  Hung over her enamored, and beheld\n  Beauty which, whether waking or asleep,\n  Shot forth peculiar graces; then with voice,\n  Mild as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes,\n  Her hand soft touching, whispered thus, 'Awake!\n  My fairest, my espoused, my latest found,\n  Heaven's last, best gift, my ever-new delight.'\"\n\nDr. Young, the poet of the Night Thoughts, addressing the idle\nand luxurious, says:\n\n  \"Ye delicate!  Who nothing can support\n  (Yourselves most insupportable), for whom\n  The winter rose must blow, . .\n  . . . .  And silky soft\n  Favonious breathe still softer or be chid!\"\n\nFortuna is the Latin name for Tyche, the goddess of Fortune.  The\nworship of Fortuna held a position of much higher importance at\nRome than did the worship of Tyche among the Greeks.  She was\nregarded at Rome as the goddess of good fortune only, and was\nusually represented holding the cornucopia.\n\nVictoria, the Latin form for the goddess Nike, was highly honored\namong the conquest-loving Romans, and many temples were dedicated\nto her at Rome.  There was a celebrated temple at Athens to the\nGreek goddess Nike Apteros, or Wingless Victory, of which remains\nstill exist.\n\n\n\nChapter XVI\n\nAchelous and Hercules.  Admetus and Alcestis.  Antigone.\nPenelope\n\nThe river-god Achelous told the story of Erisichthon to Theseus\nand his companions, whom he was entertaining at his hospitable\nboard, while they were delayed on their journey by the overflow\nof his waters.  Having finished his story, he added, \"But why\nshould I tell of other persons' transformations, when I myself am\nan instance of the possession of this power.  Sometimes I become\na serpent, and sometimes a bull, with horns on my head.  Or I\nshould say, I once could do so; but now I have but one horn,\nhaving lost one.\"  And here he groaned and was silent.\n\nTheseus asked him the cause of his grief, and how he lost his\nhorn.  To which question the river-god replied as follows: \"Who\nlikes to tell of his defeats?  Yet I will not hesitate to relate\nmine, comforting myself with the thought of the greatness of my\nconqueror, for it was Hercules.  Perhaps you have heard of the\nfame of Dejanira, the fairest of maidens, whom a host of suitors\nstrove to win.  Hercules and myself were of the number, and the\nrest yielded to us two.  He urged in his behalf his descent from\nJove, and his labors by which he had exceeded the exactions of\nJuno, his step-mother.  I, on the other hand, said to the father\nof the maiden, 'Behold me, the king of the waters that flow\nthrough your land.  I am no stranger from a foreign shore, but\nbelong to the country, a part of your realm.  Let it not stand in\nmy way that royal Juno owes me no enmity, nor punishes me with\nheavy tasks.  As for this man, who boasts himself the son of\nJove, it is either a false pretence, or disgraceful to him if\ntrue, for it cannot be true except by his mother's shame.'  As I\nsaid this Hercules scowled upon me, and with difficulty\nrestrained his rage.  'My hand will answer better than my\ntongue,' said he.  'I yield you the victory in words, but trust\nmy cause to the strife of deeds.  With that he advanced towards\nme, and I was ashamed, after what I had said, to yield.  I threw\noff my green vesture, and presented myself for the struggle.  He\ntried to throw me, now attacking my head, now my body.  My bulk\nwas my protection, and he assailed me in vain.  For a time we\nstopped, then returned to the conflict.  We each kept our\nposition, determined not to yield, foot to foot, I bending over\nhim, clinching his hands in mine, with my forehead almost\ntouching his.  Thrice Hercules tried to throw me off, and the\nfourth time he succeeded, brought me to the ground and himself\nupon my back.  I tell you the truth, it was as if a mountain had\nfallen on me.  I struggled to get my arms at liberty, panting and\nreeking with perspiration.  He gave me no chance to recover, but\nseized my throat.  My knees were on the earth and my mouth in the\ndust.\n\n\"Finding that I was no match for him in the warrior's art, I\nresorted to others, and glided away in the form of a serpent.  I\ncurled my body in a coil, and hissed at him with my forked\ntongue.  He smiled scornfully at this, and said, 'It was the\nlabor of my infancy to conquer snakes.'  So saying he clasped my\nneck with his hands.  I was almost choked, and struggled to get\nmy neck out of his grasp.  Vanquished in this form, I tried what\nalone remained to me, and assumed the form of a bull.  He grasped\nmy neck with his arm, and, dragging my head down to the ground,\noverthrew me on the sand.  Nor was this enough.  His ruthless\nhand rent my horn from my head.  The Naiades took it, consecrated\nit, and filled it with fragrant flowers.  Plenty adopted my horn,\nand made it her own, and called it Cornucopia.\n\nThe ancients were fond of finding a hidden meaning in their\nmythological tales.  They explain this fight of Achelous with\nHercules by saying Achelous was a river that in seasons of rain\noverflowed its banks.  When the fable says that Achelous loved\nDejanira, and sought a union with her, the meaning is, that the\nriver in its windings flowed through part of Dejanira's kingdom.\nIt was said to take the form of a snake because of its winding,\nand of a bull because it made a brawling or roaring in its\ncourse.  When the river swelled, it made itself another channel.\nThus its head was horned.  Hercules prevented the return of these\nperiodical overflows, by embankments and canals; and therefore he\nwas said to have vanquished the river-god and cut off his horn.\nFinally, the lands formerly subject to overflow, but now\nredeemed, became very fertile, and this is meant by the horn of\nplenty.\n\nThere is another account of the origin of the Cornucopia.\nJupiter at his birth was committed by his mother Rhea to the care\nof the daughters of Melisseus, a Cretan king.  They fed the\ninfant deity with the milk of the goat Amalthea.  Jupiter broke\noff one of the horns of the goat and gave it to his nurses, and\nendowed it with the wonderful power of becoming filled with\nwhatever the possessor might wish.\n\nThe name of Amalthea is also given by some writers to the mother\nof Bacchus.  It is thus used by Milton, Paradise Lost, Book IV.:\n\n  \"That Nyseian isle,\n  Girt with the river Triton, where old Cham,\n  Whom Gentiles Ammon call, and Libyan Jove,\n  Hid Amalthea and her florid son,\n  Young Bacchus, from his stepdame Rhea's eye.\"\n\n\nADMETUS AND ALCESTIS\n\nAesculapius, the son of Apollo, was endowed by his father with\nsuch skill in the healing art that he even restored the dead to\nlife.  At this Pluto took alarm, and prevailed on Jupiter to\nlaunch a thunderbolt at Aesculapius.  Apollo was indignant at the\ndestruction of his son, and wreaked his vengeance on the innocent\nworkmen who had made the thunderbolt.  These were the Cyclopes,\nwho have their workshop under Mount Aetna, from which the smoke\nand flames of their furnaces are constantly issuing.  Apollo shot\nhis arrows at the Cyclopes, which so incensed Jupiter that he\ncondemned him as a punishment to become he servant of a mortal\nfor the space of one year.  Accordingly Apollo went into the\nservice of Admetus, king of Thessaly, and pastured his flocks for\nhim on the verdant banks of the river Amphrysus.\n\nAdmetus was a suitor, with others, for the hand of Alcestis, the\ndaughter of Pelias, who promised her to him who should come for\nher in a chariot drawn by lions and boars.  This task Admetus\nperformed by the assistance of his divine herdsman, and was made\nhappy in the possession of Alcestis.  But Admetus fell ill, and\nbeing near to death, Apollo prevailed on the Fates to spare him\non condition that some one would consent to die in his stead.\nAdmetus, in his joy at this reprieve, thought little of the\nransom, and perhaps remembering the declarations of attachment\nwhich he had often heard from his courtiers and dependents,\nfancied that it would be easy to find a substitute.  But it was\nnot so.  Brave warriors, who would willingly have perilled their\nlives for their prince, shrunk from the thought of dying for him\non the bed of sickness; and old servants who had experienced his\nbounty and that of his house from their childhood up, were not\nwilling to lay down the scanty remnant of their days to show\ntheir gratitude.  Men asked,   \"Why does not one of his parents\ndo it?  They cannot in the course of nature live much longer, and\nwho can feel like them the call to rescue the life they gave from\nan untimely end?\"  But the parents, distressed though they were\nat the thought of losing him, shrunk from the call.  Then\nAlcestis, with a generous self-devotion, proffered herself as the\nsubstitute.  Admetus, fond as he was of life, would not have\nsubmitted to receive it at such a cost; but there was no remedy.\nThe condition imposed by the Fates had been met, and the decree\nwas irrevocable.  Alcestis sickened as Admetus revived, and she\nwas rapidly sinking to the grave.\n\nJust at this time Hercules arrived at the palace of Admetus, and\nfound all the inmates in great distress for the impending loss of\nthe devoted wife and beloved mistress.  Hercules, to whom no\nlabor was too arduous, resolved to attempt her rescue.  He went\nand lay in wait at the door of the chamber of the dying queen,\nand when Death came for his prey, he seized him and forced him to\nresign his victim.  Alcestis recovered, and was restored to her\nhusband.\n\nMilton alludes to the story of Alcestis in his Sonnet on his\ndeceased wife.\n\n  \"Methought I saw my late espoused saint,\n  Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave,\n  Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave,\n  Rescued from death by force, though pale and faint.\"\n\nJames Russell Lowell has chosen the \"Shepherd of King Admetus\"\nfor the subject of a short poem.  He makes that event the first\nintroduction of poetry to men.\n\n  \"Men called him but a shiftless youth,\n  In whom no good they saw,\n  And yet unwittingly, in truth,\n  They made his careless words their law.\n  And day by day more holy grew\n  Each spot where he had trod,\n  Till after poets only knew\n  Their first-born brother was a god.\"\n\nIn The Love of Alcestis, one of the poems in The Earthly\nParadise, Mr. Morris thus tells the story of the taming of the\nlions:\n\n  \"---- Rising up no more delay he made,\n  But took the staff and gained the palace-door\n  Where stood the beasts, whose mingled whine and roar\n  Had wrought his dream; there two and two they stood,\n  Thinking, it might be, of the tangled wood,\n  And all the joys of the food-hiding trees.\n  But harmless as their painted images\n  'Neath some dread spell; then, leaping up, he took\n  The reins in hand and the bossed leather shook,\n  And no delay the conquered beasts durst make,\n  But drew, not silent; and folk just awake,\n  When he went by as though a god they saw,\n  Fell on their knees, and maidens come to draw\n  Fresh water from the fount, sank trembling down,\n  And silence held the babbling, wakened town.\"\n\n\nANTIGONE\n\nThe poems and histories of legendary Greece often relate, as has\nbeen seen, to women and their lives.  Antigone was as bright an\nexample of filial and sisterly fidelity as was Alcestis of\nconnubial devotion.  She was the daughter of OEdipus and Jocasta,\nwho, with all their descendants, were the victims of an\nunrelenting fate, dooming them to destruction.  OEdipus in his\nmadness had torn out his eyes, and was driven forth from his\nkingdom Thebes, dreaded and abandoned by all men, as an object of\ndivine vengeance.  Antigone, his daughter, alone shared his\nwanderings, and remained with him till he died, and then returned\nto Thebes.\n\nHer brothers, Eteocles and Polynices, had agreed to share the\nkingdom between them, and reign alternately year by year.  The\nfirst year fell to the lot of Eteocles, who, when his time\nexpired, refused to surrender the kingdom to his brother.\nPolynices fled to Adrastus, king of Argos, who gave him his\ndaughter in marriage, and aided him with an army to enforce his\nclaim to the kingdom.  This led to the celebrated expedition of\nthe \"Seven against Thebes,\" which furnished ample materials for\nthe epic and tragic poets of Greece.\n\nAmphiaraus, the brother-in-law of Adrastus, opposed the\nenterprise, for he was a soothsayer, and knew by his art that no\none of the leaders except Adrastus would live to return.  But\nAmphiaraus, on his marriage to Eriphyle, the king's sister, had\nagreed that whenever he and Adrastus should differ in opinion,\nthe decision should be left to Eriphyle.  Polynices, knowing\nthis, gave Eriphyle the collar of Harmonia, and thereby gained\nher to his interest.  This collar or necklace was a present which\nVulcan had given to Harmonia on her marriage with Cadmus, and\nPolynices had taken it with him on his flight from Thebes.\nEriphyle could not resist so tempting a bribe, and by her\ndecision the war was resolved on, and Amphiaraus went to his\ncertain fate.  He bore his part bravely in the contest, but could\nnot avert his destiny.  Pursued by the enemy he fled along the\nriver, when a thunderbolt launched by Jupiter opened the ground,\nand he, his chariot, and his charioteer, were swallowed up.\n\nIt would not be in place here to detail all the acts of heroism\nor atrocity which marked the contest; but we must not omit to\nrecord the fidelity of Evadne as an offset to the weakness of\nEriphyle.  Capaneus, the husband of Evadne, in the ardor of the\nfight, declared that he would force his way into the city in\nspite of Jove himself.  Placing a ladder against the wall, he\nmounted, but Jupiter, offended at his impious language, struck\nhim with a thunderbolt.  When his obsequies were celebrated,\nEvadne cast herself on his funeral pile and perished.\n\nEarly in the contest Eteocles consulted the soothsayer Tiresias\nas to the issue.  Tiresias, in his youth, had by chance seen\nMinerva bathing.  The goddess in her wrath deprived him of his\nsight, but afterwards relenting gave him in compensation the\nknowledge of future events.  When consulted by Eteocles, he\ndeclared that victory should fall to Thebes if Menoeceus, the son\nof Creon, gave himself a voluntary victim.  The heroic youth,\nlearning the response, threw away his life in the first\nencounter.\n\nThe siege continued long, with various success.  At length both\nhosts agreed that the brothers should decide their quarrel by\nsingle combat.  They fought and fell by each other's hands.  The\narmies then renewed the fight, and at last the invaders were\nforced to yield, and fled, leaving their dead unburied.  Creon,\nthe uncle of the fallen princes, now become king, caused Eteocles\nto be buried with distinguished honor, but suffered the body of\nPolynices to lie where it fell, forbidding every one, on pain of\ndeath, to give it burial.\n\nAntigone, the sister of Polynices, heard with indignation the\nrevolting edict which consigned her brother's body to the dogs\nand vultures, depriving it of those rites which were considered\nessential to the repose of the dead.  Unmoved by the dissuading\ncounsel of an affectionate but timid sister, and unable to\nprocure assistance, she determined to brave the hazard and to\nbury the body with her own hands.  She was detected in the act,\nand Creon gave orders that she should be buried alive, as having\ndeliberately set at nought the solemn edict of the city.  Her\nlove, Haemon, the son of Creon, unable to avert her fate, would\nnot survive her, and fell by his own hand.\n\nAntigone forms the subject of two fine tragedies of the Grecian\npoet Sophocles.  Mrs. Jameson, in her Characteristics of Women,\nhas compared her character with that of Cordelia, in\nShakespeare's King Lear.  The perusal of her remarks cannot fail\nto gratify our readers.\n\nThe following is the lamentation of Antigone over OEdipus, when\ndeath has at last relieved him from his sufferings:\n\n  \"Alas!  I only wished I might have died\n  With my poor father; wherefore should I ask\n  For longer life?\n  Oh, I was fond of misery with him;\n  E'en what was most unlovely grew beloved\n  When he was with me.  Oh, my dearest father,\n  Beneath the earth now in deep darkness hid,\n  Worn as thou wert with age, to me thou still\n  Wast dear, and shalt be ever.\"\n  Francklin's Sophocles\n\n\nPENELOPE\n\nPenelope is another of those mythic heroines whose beauties were\nrather those of character and conduct than of person.  She was\nthe daughter of Icarius, a Spartan prince.  Ulysses, king of\nIthaca, sought her in marriage, and won her over all competitors.\nWhen the moment came for the bride to leave her father's house,\nIcarius, unable to bear the thoughts of parting with his\ndaughter, tried to persuade her to remain with him, and not\naccompany her husband to Ithaca.  Ulysses gave Penelope her\nchoice, to stay or go with him.  Penelope made no reply, but\ndropped her veil over her face.  Icarius urged her no further,\nbut when she was gone erected a statue to Modesty on the spot\nwhere they parted.\n\nUlysses and Penelope had not enjoyed their union more than a year\nwhen it was interrupted by the events which called Ulysses to the\nTrojan war.  During his long absence, and when it was doubtful\nwhether he still lived, and highly improbable that he would ever\nreturn, Penelope was importuned by numerous suitors, from whom\nthere seemed no refuge but in choosing one of them for her\nhusband.  Penelope, however, employed every art to gain time,\nstill hopping for Ulysses' return.  One of her arts of delay was\nengaging in the preparation of a robe for the funeral canopy of\nLaertes, her husband's father.  She pledged herself to make her\nchoice among the suitors when the robe was finished.  During the\nday she worked at the robe, but in the night she undid the work\nof the day.  This is the famous Penelope's web, which is used as\na proverbial expression for anything which is perpetually doing\nbut never done.  The rest of Penelope's history will be told when\nwe give an account of her husband's adventures.\n\n\n\nChapter XVII\n\nOrpheus and Eurydice.  Artistaeus.  Amphion.  Linus.\nThamyris.  Marsyas.  Melampus.  Musaeus\n\nOrpheus was the son of Apollo and the muse Calliope.  He was\npresented by his father with a lyre and taught to play upon it,\nand he played to such perfection that nothing could withstand the\ncharm of his music.  Not only his fellow mortals, but wild beasts\nwere softened by his strains, and gathering round him laid by\ntheir fierceness, and stood entranced with his lay.  Nay, the\nvery trees and rocks were sensible to the charm.  The former\ncrowded round him and the latter relaxed somewhat of their\nhardness, softened by his notes.\n\nHymen had been called to bless with his presence the nuptials of\nOrpheus with Eurydice; but though he attended, he brought no\nhappy omens with him.  His very torch smoked and brought tears\ninto their eyes.  In coincidence with such prognostics Eurydice,\nshortly after her marriage, while wandering with the nymphs, her\ncompanions, was seen by the shepherd Aristaeus, who was struck\nwith her beauty, and made advances to her.  She fled, and in\nflying trod upon a snake in the grass, was bitten in the foot and\ndied.  Orpheus sang his grief to all who breathed the upper air,\nboth gods and men, and finding it all unavailing resolved to seek\nhis wife in the regions of the dead.  He descended by a cave\nsituated on the side of the promontory of Taenarus and arrived at\nthe Stygian realm.  He passed through crowds of ghosts, and\npresented himself before the throne of Pluto and Proserpine.\nAccompanying the words with the lyre, he sung, \"O deities of the\nunderworld, to whom all we who live must come, hear my words, for\nthey are true!  I come not to spy out the secrets of Tartarus,\nnor to try my strength against the three-headed dog with snaky\nhair who guards the entrance.  I come to seek my wife, whose\nopening years the poisonous viper's fang has brought to an\nuntimely end.  Love had led me here, Love, a god all powerful\nwith us who dwell on the earth, and, if old traditions say true,\nnot less so here.  I implore you by these abodes full of terror,\nthese realms of silence and uncreated things, unite again the\nthread of Eurydice's life.  We all are destined to you, and\nsooner or later must pass to your domain.  She too, when she\nshall have filled her term of life, will rightly be yours. But\ntill then grant her to me, I beseech you.  If you deny me, I\ncannot return alone; you shall triumph in the death of us both.\"\n\nAs he sang these tender strains, the very ghosts shed tears.\nTantalus, in spite of his thirst, stopped for a moment his\nefforts for water, Ixion's wheel stood still, the vulture ceased\nto tear the giant's liver, the daughters of Danaus rested from\ntheir task of drawing water in a sieve, and Sisyphus sat on his\nrock to listen.  Then for the first time, it is said, the cheeks\nof the Furies were wet with tears.  Proserpine could not resist,\nand Pluto himself gave way.  Eurydice was called.  She came from\namong the new-arrived ghosts, limping with her wounded foot.\nOrpheus was permitted to take her away with him on one condition,\nthat he should not turn round to look at her till they should\nhave reached the upper air.  Under this condition they proceeded\non their way, he leading, she following, through passages dark\nand steep, in total silence, till they had nearly reached the\noutlet into the cheerful upper world, when Orpheus, in a moment\nof forgetfulness, to assure himself that she was still following,\ncast a glance behind him, when instantly she was borne away.\nStretching out their arms to embrace one another they grasped\nonly the air.  Dying now a second time she yet cannot reproach\nher husband, for how can she blame his impatience to behold her?\n\"Farewell,\" she said, \"a last farewell,\"   and was hurried away,\nso fast that the sound hardly reached his ears.\n\nOrpheus endeavored to follow her, and besought permission to\nreturn and try once more for her release but the stern ferryman\nrepulsed him and refused passage.  Seven days he lingered about\nthe brink, without food or sleep; then bitterly accusing of\ncruelty the powers of Erebus, he sang his complaints to the rocks\nand mountains, melting the hearts of tigers and moving the oaks\nfrom their stations.  He held himself aloof from womankind,\ndwelling constantly on the recollection of his sad mischance.\nThe Thracian maidens tried their best to captivate him, but he\nrepulsed their advances.  They bore with him as long as they\ncould; but finding him insensible, one day, one of them, excited\nby the rites of Bacchus, exclaimed, \"See yonder our despiser!\"\nand threw at him her javelin.  The weapon, as soon as it came\nwithin the sound of his lyre, fell harmless at his feet.  So did\nalso the stones that they threw at him.  But the women raised a\nscream and drowned the voice of the music, and then the missiles\nreached him and soon were stained with his blood.  The maniacs\ntore him limb from limb, and threw his head and his lyre into the\nriver Hebrus, down which they floated, murmuring sad music, to\nwhich the shores responded a plaintive symphony.  The Muses\ngathered up the fragments of his body and buried them at\nLibethra, where the nightingale is said to sing over his grave\nmore sweetly than in any other part of Greece.  His lyre was\nplaced by Jupiter among the stars.  His shade passed a second\ntime to Tartarus, where he sought out his Eurydice and embraced\nher, with eager arms.  They roam through those happy fields\ntogether now, sometimes he leads, sometimes she; and Orpheus\ngazes as much as he will upon her, no longer incurring a penalty\nfor a thoughtless glance.\n\nThe story of Orpheus has furnished Pope with an illustration of\nthe power of music, for his Ode for St. Cecelia's Day.  The\nfollowing stanza relates the conclusion of the story:\n\n  \"But soon, too soon the lover turns his eyes;\n  Again she falls, again she dies, she dies!\n  How wilt thou now the fatal sisters move?\n  No crime was thine, if 'tis no crime to love.\n  Now under hanging mountains,\n  Beside the falls of fountains,\n  Or where Hebrus wanders,\n  Rolling in meanders,\n  All alone,\n  He makes his moan,\n  And calls her ghost,\n  Forever, ever, ever lost!\n  Now with furies surrounded,\n  Despairing, confounded,\n  He trembles, he glows,\n  Amidst Rhodope's snows.\n  See, wild as the winds o'er the desert he flies;\n  Hark!  Haemus resounds with the Bacchanals' cries.\n  Ah, see, he dies!\n  Yet even in death Eurydice he sung,\n  Eurydice still trembled on his tongue;\n  Eurydice the woods,\n  Eurydice the floods,\n  Eurydice the rocks and hollow mountains rung.\"\n\nThe superior melody of the nightingale's song over the grave of\nOrpheus, is alluded to by Southey in his Thalaba:\n\n  \"Then on his ear what sounds\n  Of harmony arose!\n  Far music and the distance-mellowed song\n  From bowers of merriment;\n  The waterfall remote;\n  The murmuring of the leafy groves;\n  The single nightingale\n  Perched in the rosier by, so richly toned,\n  That never from that most melodious bird\n  Singing a love-song to his brooding mate,\n  Did Thracian shepherd by the grave\n  Of Orpheus hear a sweeter melody,\n  Though there the spirit of the sepulchre\n  All his own power infuse, to swell\n  The incense that he loves.\"\n\n\nARISTAEUS, THE BEE-KEEPER\n\nMan avails himself of the instincts of the inferior animals for\nhis own advantage.  Hence sprang the art of keeping bees.  Honey\nmust first have been known as a wild product, the bees building\ntheir structures in hollow trees or holes in the rocks, or any\nsimilar cavity that chance offered.  Thus occasionally the\ncarcass of a dead animal would be occupied by the bees for that\npurpose.  It was no doubt from some such incident that the\nsuperstition arose that the bees were engendered by the decaying\nflesh of the animal; and Virgil, in the following story (From the\nGeorgies, Book IV.1.317), shows how this supposed fact may be\nturned to account for renewing the swarm when it has been lost by\ndisease or accident.\n\nThe shepherd Aristaeus, who first taught the management of bees,\nwas the son of the water-nymph Cyrene.  His bees had perished,\nand he resorted for aid to his mother.  He stood at the river\nside and thus addressed her: \"Oh, mother, the pride of my life is\ntaken from me!  I have lost my precious bees.  My care and skill\nhave availed me nothing, and you, my mother, have not warded off\nfrom me the blow of misfortune.\"  His mother heard these\ncomplaints as she sat in her palace at the bottom of the river\nwith her attendant nymphs around her.  They were engaged in\nfemale occupations, spinning and weaving, while one told stories\nto amuse the rest.  The sad voice of Aristaeus interrupting their\noccupation, one of them put her head above the water and seeing\nhim, returned and gave information to his mother, who ordered\nthat he should be brought into her presence.  The river at her\ncommand opened itself and let him pass in, while it stood curled\nlike a mountain on either side.  He descended to the region where\nthe fountains of the great rivers lie; he saw the enormous\nreceptacles of waters and was almost deafened with the roar,\nwhile he surveyed them hurrying off in various directions to\nwater the face of the earth.  Arriving at his mother's apartment\nhe was hospitably received by Cyrene and her nymphs, who spread\ntheir table with the richest dainties.  They first poured out\nlibations to Neptune, then regaled themselves with the feast, and\nafter that Cyrene thus addressed him: \"There is an old prophet\nnamed Proteus, who dwells in the sea and is a favorite of\nNeptune, whose herd of sea-calves he pastures.  We nymphs hold\nhim in great respect, for he is a learned sage, and knows all\nthings, past, present, and to come.  He can tell you, my son, the\ncause of the mortality among your bees, and how you may remedy\nit.  But he will not do it voluntarily, however you may entreat\nhim.  You must compel him by force.  If you seize him and chain\nhim, he will answer your questions in order to get released, for\nhe cannot, by all his arts, get away if you hold fast the chains.\nI will carry you to his cave, where he comes at noon to take his\nmidday repose.  Then you may easily secure him.  But when he\nfinds himself captured, his resort is to a power he possesses of\nchanging himself into various forms.  He will become a wild boar\nor a fierce tiger, a scaly dragon, or lion with yellow mane.  Or\nhe will make a noise like the crackling of flames or the rush of\nwater, so as to tempt you to let go the chain, when he will make\nhis escape.  But you have only to keep him fast bound, and at\nlast when he finds all his arts unavailing, he will return to his\nown figure and obey your commands.\"  So saying she sprinkled her\nson with fragrant nectar, the beverage of the gods, and\nimmediately an unusual vigor filled his frame and courage his\nheart, while perfume breathed all around him.\n\nThe nymph led her son to the prophet's cave, and concealed him\namong the recesses of the rocks, while she herself took her place\nbehind the clouds.  Then noon came and the hour when men and\nherds retreat from the glaring sun to indulge in quiet slumber,\nProteus issued from the water, followed hy his herd of sea-\ncalves, which spread themselves along the shore.  He sat on the\nrock and counted his herd; then stretched himself on the floor of\nthe cave and went to sleep.  Aristaeus hardly allowed him to get\nfairly asleep before he fixed the fetters on him and shouted\naloud.  Proteus, waking and finding himself captured, immediately\nresorted to his arts, becoming first a fire, then a flood, then a\nhorrible wild beast, in rapid succession.  But trying all in\nvain, he at last resumed his own form and addressed the youth in\nangry accents: \"Who are you, bold youth, who thus invade my\nabode, and what do you want with me?\"  Aristaeus replied,\n\"Proteus, you know already, for it is needless for any one to\nattempt to deceive you.  And do you also cease your efforts to\nelude me.  I am led hither by divine assistance, to know from you\nthe cause of my misfortune and how to remedy it.\"  At these words\nthe prophet, fixing on him his gray eyes with a piercing look,\nthus spoke: \"You received the merited reward of your deeds, by\nwhich Eurydice met her death, for in flying from you she trod\nupon a serpent, of whose bite she died.  To avenge her death the\nnymphs, her companions, have sent this destruction bo your bees.\nYou have to appease their anger, and thus it must be done: Select\nfour bulls of perfect form and size, and four cows of equal\nbeauty, build four altars to the nymphs, and sacrifice the\nanimals, leaving their carcasses in the leafy grove.  To Orpheus\nand Eurydice you shall pay such funeral honors as may allay their\nresentment.  Returning after nine days you will examine the\nbodies of the cattle slain and see what will befall.\"  Aristaeus\nfaithfully obeyed these directions.  He sacrificed the cattle, he\nleft their bodies in the grove, he offered funeral honors to the\nshades of Orpheus and Eurydice; then returning on the ninth day\nhe examined the bodies of the animals, and, wonderful to relate!\nA swarm of bees had taken possession of one of the carcasses, and\nwere pursuing their labors there as in a hive.\n\nIn the Task, Cowper alludes to the story of Aristaeus, when\nspeaking of the ice-palace built by the Empress Anne of Russia.\nHe has been describing the fantastic forms which ice assumes in\nconnection with waterfalls, etc.\"\n\n  \"Less worthy of applause though more admired,\n  Because a novelty, the work of man,\n  Imperial mistress of the fur-clad Russ,\n  Thy most magnificent and mighty freak,\n  The wonder of the north.  No forest fell\n  When thou wouldst build, no quarry sent its stores\n  T'enrich thy walls; but thou didst hew the floods\n  And make thy marble of the glassy wave.\n  In such a palace Aristaeus found\n  Cyrene, when he bore the plaintive tale\n  Of his lost bees to her maternal ear.\"\n\nMilton also appears to have had Cyrene and her domestic scene in\nhis mind when he describes to us Sabrina, the nymph of the river\nSevern, in the Guardian-spirit's Song in Comus:\n\n  \"Sabrina fair!\n  Listen when thou art sitting\n  Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave\n  In twisted braids of lilies knitting\n  The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair;\n  Listen for dear honor's sake,\n  Goddess of the silver lake!\n  Listen and save.\"\n\nThe following are other celebrated mythical poets and musicians,\nsome of whom were hardly inferior to Orpheus himself:\n\n\nAMPHION\n\nAmphion was the son of Jupiter and Antiope, queen of Thebes.\nWith his twin brother Zethus he was exposed at birth on Mount\nCithaeron, where they grew up among the shepherds, not knowing\ntheir parentage.  Mercury gave Amphion a lyre, and taught him to\nplay upon it, and his brother occupied himself in hunting and\ntending the flocks.  Meanwhile Antiope, their mother, who had\nbeen treated with great cruelty by Lycus, the usurping king of\nThebes, and by Dirce, his wife, found means to inform her\nchildren of their rights, and to summon them to her assistance.\nWith a band of their fellow-herdsmen they attacked and slew\nLycus, and tying Dirce by the hair of her head to a bull, let him\ndrag her till she was dead (the punishment of Dirce is the\nsubject of a celebrated group of statuary now in the Museum at\nNaples).  Amphion, having become king of Thebes fortified the\ncity with a wall.  It is said that when he played on his lyre the\nstones moved of their own accord and took their places in the\nwall.\n\nIn Tennyson's poem of Amphion is an amusing use of this story:\n\n  \"Oh, had I lived when song was great,\n  In days of old Amphion,\n  And ta'en my fiddle to the gate\n  Nor feared for reed or scion!\n\n  And had I lived when song was great,\n  And legs of trees were limber,\n  And ta'en my fiddle to the gate,\n  And fiddled to the timber!\n\n  \"'Tis said he had a tuneful tongue,\n  Such happy intonation,\n  Wherever he sat down and sung\n  He left a small plantation;\n  Whenever in a lonely grove\n  He set up his forlorn pipes,\n  The gouty oak began to move\n  And flounder into hornpipes.\"\n\n\nLINUS\n\nLinus was the instructor of Hercules in music, but having one day\nreproved his pupil rather harshly, he roused the anger of\nHercules, who struck him with his lyre and killed him.\n\n\nTHAMYRIS\n\nAn ancient Thracian bard, who in his presumption challenged the\nMuses to a trial of skill, and being overcome in the contest was\ndeprived by them of his sight.  Milton alludes to him with other\nblind bards, when speaking of his own blindness (Paradise Lost,\nBook III.35).\n\n\nMARSYAS\n\nMinerva invented the flute, and played upon it to the delight of\nall the celestial auditors; but the mischievous urchin Cupid\nhaving dared to laugh at the queer face which the goddess made\nwhile playing, Minerva threw the instrument indignantly away, and\nit fell down to earth, and was found by Marsyas.  He blew upon\nit, and drew from it such ravishing sounds that he was tempted to\nchallenge Apollo himself to a musical contest.  The god of course\ntriumphed, and punished Marsyas by flaying him alive.\n\n\nMELAMPUS\n\nMelampus was the first mortal endowed with prophetic powers.\nBefore his house there stood an oak tree containing a serpent's\nnest.  The old serpents were killed by the servants, but Melampus\ntook care of the young ones and fed them carefully.  One day when\nhe was asleep under the oak, the serpents licked his ears with\ntheir tongues.  On awaking he was astonished to find that he now\nunderstood the language of birds and creeping things.  This\nknowledge enabled him to foretell future events, and he became a\nrenowned soothsayer.  At one time his enemies took him captive\nand kept him strictly imprisoned.  Melampus in the silence of\nnight heard the wood-worms in the timbers talking together, and\nfound out by what they said that the timbers were nearly eaten\nthrough, and the roof would soon fall in.  He told his captors\nand demanded to be let out, warning them also.  They took his\nwarning, and thus escaped destruction, and rewarded Malampus and\nheld him in high honor.\n\n\nMUSAEUS\n\nA semi-mythological personage who was represented by one\ntradition to be the son of Orpheus.  He is said to have written\nsacred poems and oracles.  Milton couples his name with that of\nOrpheus in his Il Penseroso:\n\n  \"But, oh, sad virgin, that thy power\n  Might raise Musaeus from his bower,\n  Or bed the soul of Orpheus sing\n  Such notes as warbled to the string,\n  Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek,\n  And made Hell grant what love did seek.\"\n\n\n\nChapter XVIII\n\nArion.  Ibycus.  Simonides.  Sappho\n\nThe poets whose adventures compose this chapter were real\npersons, some of whose works yet remain, and their influence on\npoets who succeeded them is yet more important than their\npoetical remains. The adventures recorded of them in the\nfollowing stories rest on the same authority as other narratives\nof the Age of Fable, that is, that of the poets who have told\nthem.  In their present form, the first two are translated from\nthe German, the story of Arion from Schlegel, and that of Ibycus\nfrom Schiller.\n\n\nARION\n\nArion was a famous musician, and dwelt at the court of Periander,\nking of Corinth, with whom he was a great favorite.  There was to\nbe a musical contest in Sicily, and Arion longed to compete for\nthe prize.  He told his wish to Periander, who besought him like\na brother to give up the thought.  \"Pray stay with me,\" he said,\n\"and be contented.  He who strives to win may lose.\"  Arion\nanswered, \"A wandering life best suits the free heart of a poet.\nThe talent which a god bestowed on me, I would fain make a source\nof pleasure to others.  And if I win the prize, how will the\nenjoyment of it be increased by the consciousness of my wide-\nspread fame!\"  He went, won the prize, and embarked with his\nwealth in a Corinthian ship for home.  On the second morning\nafter setting sail, the wind breathed mild and fair.  \"Oh,\nPeriander,\" he exclaimed, \"dismiss your fears!  Soon shall you\nforget them in my embrace.  With what lavish offerings will we\ndisplay our gratitude to the gods, and how merry will we be at\nthe festal board!\"  The wind and sea continued propitious.  Not a\ncloud dimmed the firmament.  He had not trusted too much to the\nocean,   but he had to man.  He overheard the seamen exchanging\nhints with one another, and found they were plotting to possess\nthemselves of his treasure.  Presently they surrounded him loud\nand mutinous, and said, \"Arion, you must die!  If you would have\na grave on shore, yield yourself to die on this spot; but if\notherwise, cast yourself into the sea.\"  \"Will nothing satisfy\nyou but my life?\" said he.  \"Take my gold, and welcome.  I\nwillingly buy my life at that price.\"  \"No, no; we cannot spare\nyou.  Your life will be too dangerous to us.  Where could we go\nto escape from Periander, if he should know that you had been\nrobbed by us?  Your gold would be of little use to us, if, on\nreturning home, we could never more be free from fear.\" \"Grant\nme, then,\" said he, \"a last request, since nought will avail to\nsave my life, that I may die as I have lived, as becomes a bard.\nWhen I shall have sung my death-song, and my harp-strings shall\ncease to vibrate, then I will bid farewell to life, and yield\nuncomplaining to my fate.\"  This prayer, like the others, would\nhave been unheeded,   they thought only of their booty,   but to\nhear so famous a musician, that moved their rude hearts.  \"Suffer\nme,\" he added, \"to arrange my dress.  Apollo will not favor me\nunless I be clad in my minstrel garb.\"\n\nHe clothed his well-proportioned limbs in gold and purple fair to\nsee, his tunic fell around him in graceful folds, jewels adorned\nhis arms, his brow was crowned with a golden wreath, and over his\nneck and shoulders flowed his hair perfumed with odors.  His left\nhand held the lyre, his right the ivory wand with which he struck\nits chords.  Like one inspired, he seemed to drink the morning\nair and glitter in the morning ray.  The seamen gazed with\nadmiration.  He strode forward to the vessel's side and looked\ndown into the blue sea.  Addressing his lyre, he sang, \"Companion\nof my voice, come with me to the realm of shades.  Though\nCerberus may growl, we know the power of song can tame his rage.\nYe heroes of Elysium, who have passed the darkling flood,   ye\nhappy souls, soon shall I join your band.  Yet can ye relieve my\ngrief?  Alas, I leave my friend behind me.  Thou, who didst find\nthy Eurydice, and lose her again as soon as found; when she had\nvanished like a dream, how didst thou hate the cheerful light!  I\nmust away, but I will not fear.  The gods look down upon us.  Ye\nwho slay me unoffending, when I am no more, your time of\ntrembling shall come.  Ye Nereids, receive your guest, who throws\nhimself upon your mercy!\"  So saying, he sprang into the deep\nsea.  The waves covered him, and the seamen held on their way,\nfancying themselves safe from all danger of detection.\n\nBut the strains of his music had drawn round him the inhabitants\nof the deep to listen, and dolphins followed the ship as if\nchained by a spell.  While he struggled in the waves, a dolphin\noffered him his back, and carried him mounted thereon safe to\nshore.  At the spot where he landed, a monument of brass was\nafterwards erected upon the rocky shore, to preserve the memory\nof the event.\n\nWhen Arion and the dolphin parted, each to his own element, Arion\nthus poured forth his thanks.  \"Farewell, thou faithful, friendly\nfish!  Would that I could reward thee; but thou canst not wend\nwith me, nor I with thee.  Companionship we may not have.  May\nGalatea, queen of the deep, accord thee her favor, and thou,\nproud of the burden, draw her chariot over the smooth mirror of\nthe deep.\"\n\nArion hastened from the shore, and soon saw before him the towers\nof Corinth.  He journeyed on, harp in hand, singing as he went,\nfull of love and happiness, forgetting his losses, and mindful\nonly of what remained, his friend and his lyre.  He entered the\nhospitable halls, and was soon clasped in the embrace of\nPeriander.  \"I come back to thee, my friend,\" he said.  \"The\ntalent which a god bestowed has been the delight of thousands,\nbut false knaves have stripped me of my well-earned treasure; yet\nI retain the consciousness of wide-spread fame.\"  Then he told\nPeriander all the wonderful events that had befallen him, who\nheard him with amazement.  \"Shall such wickedness triumph?\" said\nhe.  \"Then in vain is power lodged in my hands.  That we may\ndiscover the criminals, you must remain here in concealment, and\nso they will approach without suspicion.\"  When the ship arrived\nin the harbor, he summoned the mariners before him.  \"Have you\nheard anything of Arion?\" he inquired.  \"I anxiously look for his\nreturn.\" They replied, \"We left him well and prosperous in\nTarentum.\"  As they said these words, Arion stepped forth and\nfaced them.  His well proportioned limbs were arrayed in gold and\npurple fair to see, his tunic fell around him in graceful folds,\njewels adorned his arms, his brow was crowned with a golden\nwreath, and over his neck and shoulders flowed his hair perfumed\nwith odors; his left hand held the lyre, his right the ivory wand\nwith which he struck its chords.  They fell prostrate at his\nfeet, as if a lightning bolt had struck them.  \"We meant to\nmurder him, and he has become a god.  O Earth, open and receive\nus!\"  Then Periander spoke.  \"He lives, the master of the lay!\nKind Heaven protects the poet's life.  As for you, I invoke not\nthe spirit of vengeance; Arion wishes not your blood.  Ye slaves\nof avarice, begone!  Seek some barbarous land, and never may\naught beautiful delight your souls!\"\n\nSpencer represents Arion, mounted on his dolphin, accompanying\nthe train of Neptune and Amphitrite:\n\n  \"Then was there heard a most celestial sound\n  Of dainty music which did next ensue,\n  And, on the floating waters as enthroned,\n  Arion with his harp unto him drew\n  The ears and hearts of all that goodly crew;\n  Even when as yet the dolphin which him bore\n  Through the Aegean Seas from pirates' view,\n  Stood still, by him astonished at his love,\n  And all the raging seas for joy forgot to roar.\"\n\nByron, in his Childe Harold, Canto II., alludes to the story of\nArion, when, describing his voyage, he represents one of the\nseamen making music to entertain the rest:\n\n  \"The moon is up; by Heaven, a lovely eve!\n  Long streams of light o'er dancing waves expand;\n  Now lads on shore may sigh and maids believe;\n  Such be our fate when we return to land!\n  Meantime some rude Arion's restless hand\n  Wakes the brisk harmony that sailors love;\n  A circle there of merry listeners stand,\n  Or to some well-known measure featly move\n  Thoughtless as if on shore they still were free to rove.\"\n\n\nIBYCUS\n\nIn order to understand the story of Ibycus which follows, it is\nnecessary to remember, first, that the theatres of the ancients\nwere immense buildings providing seats for from ten to thirty\nthousand spectators, and as they were used only on festal\noccasions, and admission was free to all, they were usually\nfilled.  They were without roofs and open to the sky, and the\nperformances were in the daytime.  Secondly, the appalling\nrepresentation of the Furies is not exaggerated in the story.  It\nis recorded that AEschylus, the tragic poet, having on one\noccasion represented the Furies in a chorus of fifty performers,\nthe terror of the spectators was such that many fainted and were\nthrown into convulsions, and the magistrates forbade a like\nrepresentation for the future.\n\nIbycus, the pious poet, was on his way to the chariot races and\nmusical competitions held at the Isthmus of Corinth, which\nattracted all of Grecian lineage.  Apollo had bestowed on him the\ngift of song, the honeyed lips of the poet, and he pursued his\nway with lightsome step, full of the god.  Already the towers of\nCorinth crowning the height appeared in view, and he had entered\nwith pious awe the sacred grove of Neptune.  No living object was\nin sight, only a flock of cranes flew overhead, taking the same\ncourse as himself in their migration to a southern clime.  \"Good\nluck to you, ye friendly squadrons,\" he exclaimed, \"my companions\nfrom across the sea.  I take your company for a good omen.  We\ncome from far, and fly in search of hospitality.  May both of us\nmeet that kind reception which shields the stranger guest from\nharm!\"\n\nHe paced briskly on, and soon was in the middle of the wood.\nThere suddenly, at a narrow pass, two robbers stepped forth and\nbarred his way.  He must yield or fight.  But his hand,\naccustomed to the lyre and not to the strife of arms, sank\npowerless.  He called for help on men and gods, but his cry\nreached no defender's ear.  \"Then here must I die,\" said he, \"in\na strange land, unlamented, cut off by the hand of outlaws, and\nsee none to avenge my cause.\"  Sore wounded he sank to the earth,\nwhen hoarse screamed the cranes overhead.  \"Take up my cause, ye\ncranes,\" he said, \"since no voice but yours answers to my cry.\"\nSo saying, he closed his eyes in death.\n\nThe body, despoiled and mangled, was found, and though disfigured\nwith wounds, was recognized by the friend in Corinth who had\nexpected him as a guest.  \"Is it thus I find you restored to me?\"\nhe exclaimed; \"I who hoped to entwine your temples with the\nwreath of triumph in the strife of song!\"\n\nThe guests assembled at the festival heard the tidings with\ndismay.  All Greece felt the wound, every heart owned its loss.\nThey crowded round the tribunal of the magistrates, and demanded\nvengeance on the murderers and expiation with their blood.\n\nBut what trace or mark shall point out the perpetrator from\namidst the vast multitude attracted by the splendor of the feat?\nDid he fall by the hands of robbers, or did some private enemy\nslay him?  The all-discerning sun alone can tell, for no other\neye beheld it.  Yet not improbably the murderer even now walks in\nthe midst of the throng, and enjoys the fruits of his crime,\nwhile vengeance seeks for him in vain.  Perhaps in their own\ntemple's enclosure he defies the gods, mingling freely in this\nthrong of men that now presses into the ampitheatre.\n\nFor now crowded together, row on row, the multitude fill the\nseats till it seems as if the very fabric would give way.  The\nmurmur of voices sounds like the roar of the sea, while the\ncircles widening in their ascent rise, tier on tier, as if they\nwould reach the sky.\n\nAnd now the vast assemblage listens to the awful voice of the\nchorus personating the Furies, which in solemn guise advances\nwith measured step, and moves around the circuit of the theatre.\nCan they be mortal women who compose that awful group, and can\nthat vast concourse of silent forms be living beings!\n\nThe choristers, clad in black, bore in their fleshless hands\ntorches blazing with a pitchy flame.  Their cheeks were\nbloodless, and in place of hair, writing and swelling serpents\ncurled around their brows.  Forming a circle, these awful beings\nsang their hymn, rending the hearts of the guilty, and enchaining\nall their faculties.  It rose and swelled, overpowering the sound\nof the instruments, stealing the judgment, palsying the heart,\ncurdling the blood.\n\n\"Happy the man who keeps his heart pure from guilt and crime!\nHim we avengers touch not; he treads the path of life secure from\nus.  But woe!  Woe!  To him who has done the deed of secret\nmurder.  We, the fearful family of Night, fasten ourselves upon\nhis whole being.  Thinks he by flight to escape us?  We fly still\nfaster in pursuit, twine our snakes around his feet and bring him\nto the ground.  Unwearied we pursue; no pity checks our course;\nstill on and on to the end of life, we give him no peace nor\nrest.\"  Thus the Eumenides sang, and moved in solemn cadence,\nwhile stillness like the stillness of death sat over the whole\nassembly as if in the presence of superhuman beings; and then in\nsolemn march completing the circuit of the theatre, they passed\nout at the back of the stage.\n\nEvery heart fluttered between illusion and reality, and every\nbreast panted with undefined terror, quailing before the awful\npower that watches secret crimes and winds unseen the skein of\ndestiny.  At that moment a cry burst forth from one of the\nuppermost benches   \"Look!  Look!  Comrade, yonder are the cranes\nof Ibycus!\"  And suddenly there appeared sailing across the sky a\ndark object which a moment's inspection showed to be a flock of\ncranes flying directly over the theatre.  \"Of Ibycus! did he\nsay?\"  The beloved name revived the sorrow in every breast.  As\nwave follows wave over the face of the sea, so ran from mouth to\nmouth the words, \"Of Ibycus!  Him whom we all lament, with some\nmurderer's hand laid low!  What have the cranes to do with him?\"\nAnd louder grew the swell of voices, while like a lightning's\nflash the thought sped through every heart, \"Observe the power of\nthe Eumenides!  The pious poet shall be avenged!  The murderer\nhas informed against himself.  Seize the man who uttered that cry\nand the other to whom he spoke!\"\n\nThe culprit would gladly have recalled his words, but it was too\nlate.  The faces of the murderers pale with terror betrayed their\nguilt.  The people took them before the judge, they confessed\ntheir crime and suffered the punishment they deserved.\n\n\nSIMONIDES\n\nSimonides was one of the most prolific of the early poets of\nGreece, but only a few fragments of his compositions have\ndescended to us.  He wrote hymns, triumphal odes, and elegies.\nIn the last species of composition he particularly excelled.  His\ngenius was inclined to the pathetic, and none could touch with\ntruer effect the chords of human sympathy.  The Lamentation of\nDanae, the most important of the fragments which remain of his\npoetry is based upon the tradition that Danae and her infant son\nwere confined by order of her father Acrisius in a chest and set\nadrift on the sea.  The chest floated towards the island of\nSeriphus, where both were rescued by Dictys, a fisherman, and\ncarried to Polydectes, king of the country, who received and\nprotected them.  The child Perseus when grown up became a famous\nhero, whose adventures have been recorded in a previous chapter.\n\nSimonides passed much of his life at the courts of princes, and\noften employed his talents in panegyric and festal odes,\nreceiving his reward from the munificence of those whose exploits\nhe celebrated.  This employment was not derogatory, but closely\nresembles that of the earliest bards, such as Demodocus,\ndescribed by Homer, or of Homer himself as recorded by tradition.\n\nOn one occasion when residing at the court of Scopas, king of\nThessaly, the prince desired him to prepare a poem in celebration\nof his exploits, to be recited at a banquet.  In order to\ndiversify his theme, Simonides, who was celebrated for his piety,\nintroduced into his poem the exploits of Castor and Pollux.  Such\ndigressions were not unusual with the poets on similar occasions,\nand one might suppose an ordinary mortal might have been content\nto share the praises of the sons of Leda.  But vanity is\nexacting; and as Scopas sat at his festal board among his\ncourtiers and sycophants, he grudged every verse that did not\nrehearse his own praises.  When Simonides approached to receive\nthe promised reward Scopas bestowed but half the expected sum,\nsaying, \"Here is payment for my portion of the performance,\nCastor and Pollux will doubtless compensate thee for so much as\nrelates to them.\"  The disconcerted poet returned to his seat\namidst the laughter which followed the great man's jest.  In a\nlittle time he received a message that two young men on horseback\nwere waiting without and anxious to see him.  Simonides hastened\nto the door, but looked in vain for the visitors.  Scarcely\nhowever had he left the banqueting-hall when the roof fell in\nwith a loud crash, burying Scopas and all his guests beneath the\nruins.  On inquiring as to the appearance of the young men who\nhad sent for him, Simonides was satisfied that they were no other\nthan Castor and Pollux themselves.\n\n\nSappho\n\nSappho was a poetess who flourished in a very early age of Greek\nliterature.  Of her works few fragments remain, but they are\nenough to establish her claim to eminent poetical genius.  The\nstory of Sappho commonly alluded to is that she was passionately\nin love with a beautiful youth named Phaon, and failing to obtain\na return of affection she threw herself from the promontory of\nLeucadia into the sea, under a superstition that those who should\ntake that \"Lover's-leap,\" would, if not destroyed, be cured of\ntheir love.\n\nByron alludes to the story of Sappho in Childe Harold, Canto II.:\n\n\nThose who wish to know more of Sappho and her leap, are referred\nto the Spectator, Nos. 223 and 229, and also to Moore's Evenings\nin Greece.\n\n\n\nChapter XIX\n\nEndymion.  Orion.  Aurora and Tithonus.  Acis and Galatea\n\nEndymion was a beautiful youth who fed his flock on Mount Latmos.\nOne calm, clear night, Diana, the Moon, looked down and saw him\nsleeping.  The cold heart of the virgin goddess was warmed by his\nsurpassing beauty, and she came down to him, kissed him, and\nwatched over him while he slept.\n\nAnother story was that Jupiter bestowed on him the gift of\nperpetual youth united with perpetual sleep.  Of one so gifted we\ncan have but few adventures to record.  Diana, it was said, took\ncare that his fortunes should not suffer by his inactive life,\nfor she made his flock increase, and guarded his sheep and lambs\nfrom the wild beasts.\n\nThe story of Endymion has a peculiar charm from the human meaning\nwhich it so thinly veils.  We see in Endymion the young poet, his\nfancy and his heart seeking in vain for that which can satisfy\nthem, finding his favorite hour in the quiet moonlight, and\nnursing there beneath the beams of the bright and silent witness\nthe melancholy and the ardor which consumes him.  The story\nsuggests aspiring and poetic love, a life spent more in dreams\nthan in reality, and an early and welcome death.\nS. G. Bulfinch\n\nThe Endymion of Keats is a wild and fanciful poem, containing\nsome exquisite poetry, as this, to the moon:\n\n  \"The sleeping kine\n  Couched in thy brightness dream of fields divine.\n  Innumerable mountains rise, and rise,\n  Ambitious for the hallowing of thine eyes,\n  And yet thy benediction passeth not\n  One obscure hiding place, one little spot\n  Where pleasure may be sent; the nested wren\n  Has thy fair face within its tranquil ken.\"\n\nDr. Young in the Night Thoughts alludes to Endymion thus:\n\n  \"These thoughts, O Night, are thine;\n  From thee they came like lovers' secret sighs,\n  While others slept.  So Cynthia, poets feign,\n  In shadows veiled, soft, sliding from her sphere,\n  Her shepherd cheered, of her enamored less\n  Than I of thee.\"\n\nFletcher, in the Faithful Shepherdess, tells,\n\n  \"How the pale Phoebe, hunting in a grove,\n  First saw the boy Endymion, from whose eyes\n  She took eternal fire that never dies;\n  How she conveyed him softly in a sleep,\n  His temples bound with poppy, to the steep\n  Head of Old Latmos, where she stoops each night,\n  Gilding the mountain with her brother's light,\n  To kiss her sweetest.\"\n\n\nORION\n\nOrion was the son of Neptune.  He was a handsome giant and a\nmighty hunter.  His father gave him the power of wading through\nthe depths of the sea, or as others say, of walking on its\nsurface.\n\nOrion loved Merope, the daughter of Oenopion, king of Chios, and\nsought her in marriage.  He cleared the island of wild beasts,\nand brought the spoils of the chase as presents to his beloved;\nbut as Oenopion constantly deferred his consent, Orion attempted\nto gain possession of the maiden by violence.  Her father,\nincensed at this conduct, having made Orion drunk, deprived him\nof his sight, and cast him out on the sea shore.  The blinded\nhero followed the sound of the Cyclops' hammer till he reached\nLemnos, and came to the forge of Vulcan, who, taking pity on him,\ngave him Kedalion, one of his men, to be his guide to the abode\nof the sun.  Placing Kedalion on his shoulders, Orion proceeded\nto the east, and there meeting the sun-god, was restored to sight\nby his beam.\n\nAfter this he dwelt as a hunter with Diana, with whom he was a\nfavorite, and it is even said she was about to marry him.  Her\nbrother was highly displeased and often chid her, but to no\npurpose.  One day, observing Orion wading though the sea with his\nhead just above the water, Apollo pointed it out to his sister\nand maintained that she could not hit that black thing on the\nsea.  The archer-goddess discharged a shaft with fatal aim.  The\nwaves rolled the dead body of Orion to the land, and bewailing\nher fatal error with many tears, Diana placed him among the\nstars, where he appears as a giant, with a girdle, sword, lion's\nskin, and club.  Sirius, his dog, follows him, and the Pleiads\nfly before him.\n\nThe Pleiads were daughters of Atlas, and nymphs of Diana's train.\nOne day Orion saw them, and became enamored, and pursued them.\nIn their distress they prayed to the gods to change their form,\nand Jupiter in pity turned them into pigeons, and then made them\na constellation in the sky.  Though their numbers was seven, only\nsix stars are visible, for Electra, one of them, it is said, left\nher place that she might not behold the ruin of Troy, for that\ncity was founded by her son Dardanus.  The sight had such an\neffect on her sisters that they have looked pale ever since.\n\nMr. Longfellow has a poem on the \"Occultation of Orion.\"  The\nfollowing lines are those in which he alludes to the mythic\nstory.  We must premise that on the celestial globe Orion is\nrepresented as robed in a lion's skin and wielding a club.  At\nthe moment the stars of the constellation one by one were\nquenched in the light of the moon, the poet tells us,\n\n  \"Down fell the red skin of the lion\n  Into the river at his feet.\n  His mighty club no longer beat\n  The forehead of the bull; but he\n  Reeled as of yore beside the sea,\n  When blinded by Oenopion\n  He sought the blacksmith at his forge,\n  And climbing up the narrow gorge,\n  Fixed his blank eyes upon the sun.\"\n\nTennyson has a different theory of the Pleiads:\n\n  \"Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising through the mellow shade,\n  Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid.\"\n  Locksley Hall\n\nByron alludes to the lost Pleiad:\n\n  \"Like the lost Pleiad seen no more below.\"\n\nSee also Mrs. Heman's verses on the same subject.\n\n\nAURORA AND TITHONUS.\n\nAurora, the goddess of the Dawn, like her sister the Moon, was at\ntimes inspired with the love of mortals.  Her greatest favorite\nwas Tithonus, son of Laomedon, king of Troy.  She stole him away,\nand prevailed on Jupiter to grant him immortality; but forgetting\nto have youth joined in the gift, after some time she began to\ndiscern, to her great mortification, that he was growing old.\nWhen his hair was quite white she left his society; but he still\nhad the range of her palace, lived on ambrosial food, and was\nclad in celestial raiment.  At length he lost the power of using\nhis limbs, and then she shut him up in his chamber, whence his\nfeeble voice might at times be heard.  Finally she turned him\ninto a grasshopper.\n\nMemnon was the son of aurora and Tithonus.  He was king of the\nAEthiopians, and dwelt in the extreme east, on the shore of\nOcean.  He came with his warriors to assist the kindred of his\nfather in the war of Troy.  King Priam received him with great\nhonors, and listened with admiration to his narrative of the\nwonders of the ocean shore.\n\nThe very day after his arrival, Memnon, impatient of repose, led\nhis troops to the field.  Antilochus, the brave son of Nestor,\nfell by his hand, and the Greeks were put to flight, when\nAchilles appeared and restored the battle.  A long and doubtful\ncontest ensued between him and the son of Aurora; at length\nvictor declared for Achilles, Memnon fell, and the Trojans fled\nin dismay.\n\nAurora, who, from her station in the sky, had viewed with\napprehension the danger of her son, when she saw him fall\ndirected his brothers, the Winds, to convey his body to the banks\nof the river Esepus in Paphlagonia.  In the evening Aurora came,\naccompanied by the Hours and the Pleiads, and wept and lamented\nover her son.  Night, in sympathy with her grief, spread the\nheaven with clouds; all nature mourned for the offspring of the\nDawn.  The Aethiopians raised his tomb on the banks of the stream\nin the grove of the nymphs, and Jupiter caused the sparks and\ncinders of his funeral-pile to be turned into birds, which,\ndividing into two flocks, fought over the pile till they fell\ninto the flame.  Every year, at the anniversary of his death,\nthey return and celebrate his obsequies in like manner.  Aurora\nremains inconsolable for the loss of her son.  Her tears still\nflow, and may be seen at early morning in the form of dew-drops\non the grass.\n\nUnlike most of the marvels of ancient mythology, there will exist\nsome memorials of this.  On the banks of the river Nile, in\nEgypt, are two colossal statues, one of which is said to be the\nstatue of Memnon.  Ancient writers record that when the first\nrays of the rising sun fall upon this statue, a sound is heard to\nissue from it which they compare to the snapping of a harp-\nstring.  There is some doubt about the identification of the\nexisting statue with the one described by the ancients, and the\nmysterious sounds are still more doubtful.  Yet there are not\nwanting some modern testimonies to their being still audible.  It\nhas been suggested that sounds produced by confined air making\nits escape from crevices or caverns in the rocks may have given\nsome ground for the story.  Sir Gardner Wilkinson, a late\ntraveller, of the highest authority, examined the statue itself,\nand discovered that it was hollow, and that \"in the lap of the\nstatue is a stone, which, on being struck, emits a metallic\nsound, that might still be made use of to deceive a visitor who\nwas predisposed to believe its powers.\"\n\nThe vocal statue of Memnon is a favorite subject of allusion with\nthe poets.  Darwin, in his Botanic Garden, says,\n\n  \"So to the sacred Sun in Memnon's fane\n  Spontaneous concords choired the matin strain;\n  Touched by his orient beam responsive rings\n  The living lyre and vibrates all its strings;\n  Accordant aisles the tender tones prolong,\n  And holy echoes swell the adoring song.\"\n\n\nACIS AND GALATEA\n\nScylla was a fair virgin of Sicily, a favorite of the Sea-Nymphs.\nShe had many suitors, but repelled them all, and would go to the\ngrotto of Galatea, and tell her how she was persecuted.  One day\nthe goddess, while Scylla dressed her hair, listened to the\nstory, and then replied, \"Yet, maiden, your persecutors are of\nthe not ungentle race of men, whom if you will you can repel; but\nI, the daughter of Nereus, and protected by such a band of\nsisters, found no escape from the passion of the Cyclops but in\nthe depths of the sea;\" and tears stopped her utterance, which\nwhen the pitying maiden had wiped away with her delicate finger,\nand soothed the goddess, \"Tell me, dearest,\" said she, \"the cause\nof your grief.\"  Galatea then said, \"Acis was the son of Faunus\nand a Naiad.  His father and mother loved him dearly, but their\nlove was not equal to mine.  For the beautiful youth attached\nhimself to me alone, and he was just sixteen years old, the down\njust beginning to darken his cheeks.  As much as I sought his\nsociety, so much did the cyclops seek mine; and if you ask me\nwhether my love for Acis or my hatred for Polyphemus was the\nstronger, I cannot tell you; they were in equal measure.  Oh,\nVenus, how great is thy power!  This fierce giant, the terror of\nthe woods, whom no hapless stranger escaped unharmed, who defied\neven Jove himself, learned to feel what love was, and touched\nwith a passion for me, forgot his flocks and his well-stored\ncaverns.  Then, for the first time, he began to take some care of\nhis appearance, and to try to make himself agreeable; he harrowed\nthose coarse locks of his with a comb, and mowed his beard with a\nsickle, looked at his harsh features in the water, and composed\nhis countenance.  His love of slaughter, his fierceness and\nthirst of blood prevailed no more, and ships that touched at his\nisland went away in safety.  He paced up and down the sea-shore,\nimprinting huge tracks with his heavy tread, and, when weary, lay\ntranquilly in his cave.\n\n\"There is a cliff which projects into the sea, which washes it on\neither side.  Thither one day the huge Cyclops ascended, and sat\ndown while his flocks spread themselves around.  Laying down his\nstaff which would have served for a mast to hold a vessel's sail,\nand taking his instrument, compacted of numerous pipes, he made\nthe hills and the waters echo the music of his song.  I lay hid\nunder a rock, by the side of my beloved Acis, and listened to the\ndistant strain.  It was full of extravagant praises of my beauty,\nmingled with passionate reproaches of my coldness and cruelty.\n\n\"When he had finished he rose up, and like a raging bull, that\ncannot stand still, wandered off into the woods.  Acis and I\nthought no more of him, till on a sudden he came to a spot which\ngave him a view of us as we sat.  'I see you,' he exclaimed, 'and\nI will make this the last of your love-meetings.'  His voice was\na roar such as an angry Cyclops alone could utter.  AEtna\ntrembled at the sound.  I, overcome with terror, plunged into the\nwater.  Acis turned and fled, crying, 'Save me, Galatea, save me,\nmy parents!\"  The Cyclops pursued him, and tearing a rock from\nthe side of the mountain hurled it at him.  Though only a corner\nof it touched him it overwhelmed him.\n\n\"All that fate left in my power I did for Acis.  I endowed him\nwith the honors of his grandfather the river-god.  The purple\nblood flowed out from under the rock, but by degrees grew paler\nand looked like the stream of a river rendered turbid by rains,\nand in time it became clear.  The rock cleaved open, and the\nwater, as it gushed from the chasm, uttered a pleasing murmur.\"\n\nThus Acis was changed into a river, and the river retains the\nname of Acis.\n\n\n\nChapter XX\n\nThe Trojan War\n\nMinerva was the goddess of wisdom, but on one occasion she did a\nvery foolish thing; she entered into competition with Juno and\nVenus for the prize of beauty.  It happened thus.  At the\nnuptials of Peleus and Thetis all the gods were invited with the\nexception of Eris, or Discord.  Enraged at her exclusion, the\ngoddess threw a golden apple among the guests with the\ninscription, \"For the most beautiful.\"  Thereupon Juno, Venus,\nand Minerva, each claimed the apple.  Jupiter not willing to\ndecide in so delicate a matter, sent the goddesses to Mount Ida,\nwhere the beautiful shepherd Paris was tending his flocks, and to\nhim was committed the decision.  The goddesses accordingly\nappeared before him.  Juno promised him power and riches, Minerva\nglory and renown in war, and Venus the fairest of women for his\nwife, each attempting to bias his decision in her own favor.\nParis decided in favor of Venus and gave her the golden apple,\nthus making the two other goddesses his enemies.  Under the\nprotection of Venus, Paris sailed to Greece, and was hospitably\nreceived by Menelaus, king of Sparta.  Now Helen, the wife of\nMenelaus, was the very woman whom Venus had destined for Paris,\nthe fairest of her sex.  She had been sought as a bride by\nnumerous suitors, and before her decision was made known, they\nall, at the suggestion of Ulysses, one of their number, took an\noath that they would defend her from all injury and avenge her\ncause if necessary.  She chose Menelaus, and was living with him\nhappily when Paris became their guest.  Paris, aided by Venus,\npersuaded her to elope with him, and carried her to Troy, whence\narose the famous Trojan war, the theme of the greatest poems of\nantiquity, those of Homer and Virgil.\n\nMenelaus called upon his brother chieftains of Greece to fulfil\ntheir pledge, and join him in his efforts to recover his wife.\nThey generally came forward, but Ulysses, who had married\nPenelope and was very happy in his wife and child, had no\ndisposition to embark in such a troublesome affair.  He therefore\nhung back and Palamedes was sent to urge him.  When Palamedes\narrived at Ithaca, Ulysses pretended to be mad.  He yoked an ass\nand an ox together to the plough and began to sow salt.\nPalamedes, to try him, placed the infant Telemachus before the\nplough, whereupon the father turned the plough aside, showing\nplainly that he was no madman, and after that could no longer\nrefuse to fulfil his promise.  Being now himself gained for the\nundertaking, he lent his aid to bring in other reluctant chiefs,\nespecially Achilles.  This hero was the son of that Thetis at\nwhose marriage the apple of Discord had been thrown among the\ngoddesses.  Thetis was herself one of the immortals, a sea-nymph,\nand knowing that her son was fated to perish before Troy if he\nwent on the expedition, she endeavored to prevent his going.  She\nsent him away to the court of king Lycomedes, and induced him to\nconceal himself in the disguise of a maiden among the daughters\nof the king.  Ulysses, hearing he was there, went disguised as a\nmerchant to the palace and offered for sale female ornaments,\namong which he had placed some arms.  While the king's daughters\nwere engrossed with the other contents of the merchant's pack,\nAchilles handled the weapons and thereby betrayed himself to the\nkeen eye of Ulysses, who found no great difficulty in persuading\nhim to disregard his mother's prudent counsels and join his\ncountrymen in the war.\n\nPriam was king of Troy, and Paris, the shepherd and seducer of\nHelen, was his son.  Paris had been brought up in obscurity,\nbecause there were certain ominous forebodings connected with him\nfrom his infancy that he would be the ruin of the state.  These\nforebodings seemed at length likely to be realized, for the\nGrecian armament now in preparation was the greatest that had\never been fitted out.  Agamemnon, king of Mycenae, and brother of\nthe injured Menelaus, was chosen commander-in-chief.  Achilles\nwas their most illustrious warrior.  After him ranked Ajax,\ngigantic in size and of great courage, but dull of intellect,\nDiomedes, second only to Achilles in all the qualities of a hero,\nUlysses, famous for his sagacity, and Nestor, the oldest of the\nGrecian chiefs, and one to whom they all looked up for counsel.\nBut Troy was no feeble enemy.  Priam, the king, was now old, but\nhe had been a wise prince and had strengthened his state by good\ngovernment at home and numerous alliances with his neighbors.\nBut the principal stay and support of his throne was his son\nHector, one of the noblest characters painted by heathen\nantiquity.  Hector felt, from the first, a presentiment of the\nfall of his country, but still persevered in his heroic\nresistance, yet by no means justified the wrong which brought\nthis danger upon her.  He was united in marriage with Andromache,\nand as a husband and father his character was not less admirable\nthan as a warrior.  The principal leaders on the side of the\nTrojans, besides Hector, were Aeneas and Deiphobus, Glaucus and\nSarpedon.\n\nAfter two years of preparation the Greek fleet and army assembled\nin the port of Aulis in Boeotia.  Here Agamemnon in hunting\nkilled a stag which was sacred to Diana, and the goddess in\nreturn visited the army with pestilence, and produced a calm\nwhich prevented the ships from leaving the port.  Calchas the\nsoothsayer thereupon announced that the wrath of the virgin\ngoddess could only be appeased by the sacrifice of a virgin on\nher altar, and that none other but the daughter of the offender\nwould be acceptable.  Agamemnon, however reluctant, yielded his\nconsent, and the maiden Iphigenia was sent for under the pretence\nthat she was to be married to Achilles.  When she was about to be\nsacrificed the goddess relented and snatched her away, leaving a\nhind in her place, and Iphigenia enveloped in a cloud was carried\nto Tauris, where Diana made her priestess of her temple.\n\nTennyson, in his Dream of Fair women, makes Iphigenia thus\ndescribe her feelings at the moment of sacrifice, the moment\nrepresented in our engraving:\n\n  \"I was cut off from hope in that sad place,\n  Which yet to name my spirit loathes and fears;\n  My father held his hand upon his face;\n  I, blinded by my tears,\n\n  \"Still strove to speak; my voice was thick with sighs,\n  As in a dream.  Dimly I could descry\n  The stern black-bearded kings, with wolfish eyes,\n  Waiting to see me die.\n\n  \"The tall masts quivered as they lay afloat,\n  The temples and the people and the shore;\n  One drew a sharp knife through my tender throat\n  Slowly, and nothing more.\"\n\nThe wind now proving fair the fleet made sail and brought the\nforces to the coast of Troy.  The Trojans came to oppose their\nlanding, and at the first onset Protesilaus fell by the hand of\nHector.  Protesilaus had left at home his wife Laodamia, who was\nmost tenderly attached to him.  When the news of his death\nreached her she implored the gods to be allowed to converse with\nhim only three hours.  The request was granted.  Mercury led\nProtesilaus back to the upper world, and when he died a second\ntime Laodamia died with him.  There was a story that the nymphs\npanted elm trees round his grave which grew very well till they\nwere high enough to command a view of Troy, and then withered\naway, while fresh branches sprang from the roots.\n\nWordsworth has taken the story of Protesilaus and Laodamia for\nthe subject of a poem.  It seems the oracle had declared that\nvictory should be the lot of that party from which should fall\nthe first victim to the war.  The poet represents Protesilaus, on\nhis brief return to earth, as relating to Laodamia the story of\nhis fate:\n\n  \"The wished-for wind was given; I then revolved\n  The oracle, upon the silent sea;\n  And if no worthier led the way, resolved\n  That of a thousand vessels mine should be\n  The foremost prow impressing to the strand,\n  Mine the first blood that tinged the Trojan sand.\n\n  \"Yet bitter, ofttimes bitter was the pang\n  When of thy loss I thought, beloved wife!\n  On thee too fondly did my memory hang,\n  And on the joys we shared in mortal life,\n  The paths which we had trod,   these fountains, flowers;\n  My new planned cities and unfinished towers.\n\n  \"But should suspense permit the foe to cry,\n  'Behold they tremble!  Haughty their array,\n  Yet of their number no one dares to die!'\"\n  In soul I swept the indignity away;\n  Old frailties then recurred; but lofty thought\n  In act embodied my deliverance wrought.\n  . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . .\n  Upon the side\n  Of Hellespont (such faith was entertained)\n  A knot of spiry trees for ages grew\n  From out the tomb of him for whom she died;\n  And ever when such stature they had gained\n  That Ilium's walls were subject to their view,\n  The trees' tall summits withered at the sight,\n  A constant interchange of growth and blight!\"\n\n\nTHE ILIAD\n\nThe war continued without decisive results for nine years.  Then\nan event occurred which seemed likely to be fatal to the cause of\nthe Greeks, and that was a quarrel between Achilles and\nAgamemnon.  It is at this point that the great poem of Homer, the\nIliad, begins.  The Greeks, though unsuccessful against Troy, had\ntaken the neighboring and allied cities, and in the division of\nthe spoil a female captive, by name Chryseis, daughter of\nChryses, priest of Apollo, had fallen to the share of Agamemnon.\nChryses came bearing the sacred emblems of his office, and begged\nthe release of his daughter.  Agamemnon refused.  Thereupon\nChryses implored Apollo to afflict the Greeks till they should be\nforced to yield their prey.  Apollo granted the prayer of his\npriest, and sent pestilence into the Grecian camp.  Then a\ncouncil was called to deliberate how to allay the wrath of the\ngods and avert the plague.  Achilles boldly charged their\nmisfortunes upon Agamemnon as caused by his withholding Chryseis.\nAgamemnon enraged, consented to relinquish his captive, but\ndemanded that Achilles should yield to him in her stead Briseis,\na maiden who had fallen to Achilles' share in the division of the\nspoil.  Achilles submitted, but forthwith declared that he would\ntake no further part in the war.  He withdrew his forces from the\ngeneral camp and openly avowed his intention of returning home to\nGreece.\n\nThe gods and goddesses interested themselves as much in this\nfamous war as the parties themselves.  It was well known to them\nthat fate had decreed that Troy should fall, at last, if her\nenemies should persevere and not voluntarily abandon the\nenterprise.  Yet there was room enough left for chance to excite\nby turns the hopes and fears of the powers above who took part\nwith either side.  Juno and Minerva, in consequence of the slight\nput upon their charms by Paris, were hostile to the Trojans;\nVenus for the opposite cause favored them.  Venus enlisted her\nadmirer Mars on the same side, but Neptune favored the Greeks.\nApollo was neutral, sometimes taking one side, sometimes the\nother, and Jove himself, though he loved the good King Priam, yet\nexercised a degree of impartiality; not however without\nexceptions.\n\nThetis, the mother of Achilles, warmly resented the injury done\nto her son.  She repaired immediately to Jove's palace, and\nbesought him to make the Greeks repent of their injustice to\nAchilles by granting success to the Trojan arms.  Jupiter\nconsented; and in the battle which ensued the Trojans were\ncompletely successful.  The Greeks were driven from the field,\nand took refuge in their ships.  Then Agamemnon called a council\nof his wisest and bravest chiefs.  Nestor advised that an embassy\nshould be sent to Achilles to persuade him to return to the\nfield; that Agamemnon should yield the maiden, the cause of the\ndispute, with ample gifts to atone for the wrong he had done.\nAgamemnon consented, and Ulysses, Ajax, and Phoenix were sent to\ncarry to Achilles the penitent message.  They performed that\nduty, but Achilles was deaf to their entreaties.  He positively\nrefused to return to the field, and persisted in his resolution\nto embark for Greece without delay.  The Greeks had constructed a\nrampart around their ships, and now, instead of besieging Troy,\nthey were in a manner besieged themselves within their rampart.\nThe next day after the unsuccessful embassy to Achilles, a battle\nwas fought, and the Trojans, favored by Jove, were successful,\nand succeeded in forcing a passage through the Grecian rampart,\nand were about to set fire to the ships.  Neptune, seeing the\nGreeks so pressed, came to their rescue.  He appeared in the form\nof Calchas the prophet, encouraged the warriors with his shouts,\nand appealed to each individually till he raised their ardor to\nsuch a pitch that they forced the Trojans to give way.  Ajax\nperformed prodigies of valor, and at length encountered Hector.\nAjax shouted defiance, to which Hector replied, and hurled his\nlance at the huge warrior.  It was well aimed, and struck Ajax\nwhere the belts that bore his sword and shield crossed each other\non the breast.  The double guard prevented its penetrating, and\nit fell harmless.  Then Ajax, seeing a huge stone, one of those\nthat served to prop the ships, hurled it at Hector.  It struck\nhim in the neck and stretched him on the plain.  His followers\ninstantly seized him, and bore him off stunned and wounded.\n\nWhile Neptune was thus aiding the Greeks and driving back the\nTrojans, Jupiter saw nothing of what was going on, for his\nattention had been drawn from the field by the wiles of Juno.\nThat goddess had arrayed herself in all her charms, and, to crown\nall, had borrowed of Venus her girdle called Cestus, which had\nthe effect to heighten the wearer's charms to such a degree that\nthey were quite irresistible.  So prepared, Juno went to join her\nhusband, who sat on Olympus watching the battle.  When he beheld\nher she looked so charming that the fondness of his early love\nrevived, and, forgetting the contending armies and all other\naffairs of state, he thought only of her and let the battle go as\nit would.\n\nBut this absorption did not continue long, and when, upon turning\nhis eyes downward, he beheld Hector stretched on the plain almost\nlifeless from pain and bruises, he dismissed Juno in a rage,\ncommanding her to send Iris and Apollo to him.  When Iris came he\nsent her with a stern message to Neptune, ordering him instantly\nto quit the field.  Apollo was dispatched to heal Hector's\nbruises and to inspirit his heart.  These orders were obeyed with\nsuch speed that while the battle still raged, Hector returned to\nthe field and Neptune betook himself to his own dominions.\n\nAn arrow from Paris's bow wounded Machaon, son of Aesculapius,\nwho inherited his father's art of healing, and was therefore of\ngreat value to the Greeks as their surgeon, besides being one of\ntheir bravest warriors.  Nestor took Machaon in his chariot and\nconveyed him from the field.  As they passed the ships of\nAchilles, that hero, looking out over the field, saw the chariot\nof Nestor and recognized the old chief, but could not discern who\nthe wounded chief was.  So calling Patroclus, his companion and\ndearest friend, he sent him to Nestor's tent to inquire.\n\nPatroclus, arriving at Nestor's tent, saw Machaon wounded, and\nhaving told the cause of his coming would have hastened away, but\nNestor detained him, to tell him the extent of the Grecian\ncalamities.  He reminded him also how, at the time of departing\nfor Troy, Achilles and himself had been charged by their\nrespective fathers with different advice; Achilles to aspire to\nthe highest pitch of glory, Patroclus, as the elder, to keep\nwatch over his friend, and to guide his inexperience.  \"Now,\"\nsaid Nestor, \"is the time for such influence.  If the gods so\nplease, thou mayest win him back to the common cause; but if not\nlet hm at least send his soldiers to the field, and come thou,\nPatroclus, clad in his armor, and perhaps the very sight of it\nmay drive back the Trojans.\"\n\nPatroclus was strongly moved with this address, and hastened back\nto Achilles, revolving in his mind all he had seen and heard.  He\ntold the prince the sad condition of affairs at the camp of their\nlate associates; Diomedes, Ulysses, Agamemnon, Machaon, all\nwounded, the rampart broken down, the enemy among the ships\npreparing to burn them, and thus to cut off all means of return\nto Greece.  While they spoke the flames burst forth from one of\nthe ships.  Achilles, at the sight, relented so far as to grant\nPatroclus his request to lead the Myrmidons (for so were\nAchilles' soldiers called) to the field, and to lend him his\narmor that he might thereby strike more terror into the minds of\nthe Trojans.  Without delay the soldiers were marshalled,\nPatroclus put on the radiant armor and mounted the chariot of\nAchilles, and led forth the men ardent for battle.  But before he\nwent, Achilles strictly charged him that he should be content\nwith repelling the foe.  \"Seek not,\" said he, \"to press the\nTrojans without me, lest thou add still more to the disgrace\nalready mine.\"  Then exhorting the troops to do their best he\ndismissed them full of ardor to the fight.\n\nPatroclus and his Myrmidons at once plunged into the contest\nwhere it raged hottest; at the sight of which the joyful Grecians\nshouted and the ships reechoed the acclaim.  The Trojans, at the\nsight of the well-known armor, struck with terror, looked every\nwhere for refuge.  First those who had got possession of the ship\nand set it on fire left and allowed the Grecians to retake it and\nextinguish the flames.  Then the rest of the Trojans fled in\ndismay.  Ajax, Menelaus, and the two sons of Nestor performed\nprodigies of valor.  Hector was forced to turn his horses' heads\nand retire from the enclosure, leaving his men entangled in the\nfosse to escape as they could.  Patroclus drove them before him,\nslaying many, none daring to make a stand against him.\n\nAt last Sarpedon, son of Jove, ventured to oppose himself in\nfight to Patroclus.  Jupiter looked down upon him and would have\nsnatched him from the fate which awaited him, but Juno hinted\nthat if he did so it would induce all others of the inhabitants\nof heaven to interpose in like manner whenever any of their\noffspring were endangered; to which reason Jove yielded.\nSarpedon threw his spear but missed Patroclus, but Patroclus\nthrew his with better success.  It pierced Sarpedon's breast and\nhe fell, and, calling to his friends to save his body from the\nfoe, expired.  Then a furious contest arose for the possession of\nthe corpse.  The Greeks succeeded and stripped Sarpedon of his\narmor; but Jove would not allow the remains of his son to be\ndishonored, and by his command Apollo snatched from the midst of\nthe combatants the body of Sarpedon and committed it to the care\nof the twin brothers Death and Sleep, by whom it was transported\nto Lycia, the native land of Sarpedon, where it received due\nfuneral rites.\n\nThus far Patroclus had succeeded to his utmost wish in repelling\nthe Trojans and relieving his countrymen, but now came a change\nof fortune.  Hector, borne in his chariot, confronted him.\nPatroclus threw a vast stone at Hector, which missed its aim, but\nsmote Cebriones, the charioteer, and knocked him from the car.\nHector leaped from the chariot to rescue his friend, and\nPatroclus also decended to complete his victory.  Thus the two\nheroes met face to face.  At this decisive moment the poet, as if\nreluctant to give Hector the glory, records that Phoebus took\npart against Patroclus.  He struck the helmet from his head and\nthe lance from his hand.  At the same moment an obscure Trojan\nwounded him in the back, and Hector pressing forward pierced him\nwith his spear.  He fell mortally wounded.\n\nThen arose a tremendous conflict for the body of Patroclus, but\nhis armor was at once taken possession of by Hector, who,\nretiring a short distance, divested himself of his own armor and\nput on that of Achilles, then returned to the fight.  Ajax and\nMenelaus defended the body, and Hector and his bravest warriors\nstruggled to capture it.  The battle raged with equal fortune,\nwhen Jove enveloped the whole face of heaven with a dark cloud.\nThe lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and Ajax, looking\nround for some one whom he might dispatch to Achilles to tell him\nof the death of his friend and of the imminent danger that his\nremains would fall into the hands of the enemy, could see no\nsuitable messenger.  It was then that he exclaimed in those\nfamous lines so often quoted,\n\n  \"Father of heaven and earth!  Deliver thou\n  Achaia's host from darkness; clear the skies;\n  Give day; and, since thy sovereign will is such,\n  Destruction with it; but, oh, give us day.\"\n  Cowper.\n\nOr, as rendered by Pope,\n\n  \"Lord of earth and air!\n  Oh, king!  Oh, father!  Hear my humble prayer!\n  Dispel this cloud, the light of heaven restore;\n  Give me to see and Ajax asks no more;\n  If Greece must perish we thy will obey\n  But let us perish in the face of day.\"\n\nJupiter heard the prayer and dispersed the clouds.  Then Ajax\nsent Antilochus to Achilles with the intelligence of Patroclus's\ndeath, and of the conflict raging for his remains.  The Greeks at\nlast succeeded in bearing off the body to the ships, closely\npursued by Hector and Aeneas and rest of the Trojans.\n\nAchilles heard the fate of his friend with such distress that\nAntilochus feared for a while that he would destroy himself.  His\ngroans reached the ears of his mother, Thetis, far down in the\ndeeps of ocean where she abode, and she hastened to him to\ninquire the cause.  She found him overwhelmed with self-reproach\nthat he had indulged his resentment so far, and suffered his\nfriend to fall a victim to it.  But his only consolation was the\nhope of revenge.  He would fly instantly in search of Hector.\nBut his mother reminded him that he was now without armor, and\npromised him, if he would but wait till the morrow, she would\nprocure for him a suit of armor from Vulcan more than equal to\nthat he had lost.  He consented, and Thetis immediately repaired\nto Vulcan's palace.  She found him busy at his forge making\ntripods for his own use, so artfully constructed that they moved\nforward of their own accord when wanted, and retired again when\ndismissed.  On hearing the request of Thetis, Vulcan immediately\nlaid aside his work and hastened to comply with her wishes.  He\nfabricated a splendid suit of armor for Achilles, first a shield\nadorned with elaborate devices, then a helmet crested with gold,\nthen a corslet and greaves of impenetrable temper, all perfectly\nadapted to his form, and of consummate workmanship.  It was all\ndone in one night, and Thetis, receiving it, descended with it to\nearth and laid it down at Achilles' feet at the dawn of day.\n\nThe first glow of pleasure that Achilles had felt since the death\nof Petroclus was at the sight of this splendid armor.  And now\narrayed in it, he went forth into the camp, calling all the\nchiefs to council.  When they were all assembled he addressed\nthem.  Renouncing his displeasure against Agamemnon and bitterly\nlamenting the miseries that had resulted from it, he called on\nthem to proceed at once to the field.  Agamemnon made a suitable\nreply, laying all the blame on Ate, the goddess of discord, and\nthereupon complete reconcilement took place between the heroes.\n\nThen Achilles went forth to battle, inspired with a rage and\nthirst for vengeance that made him irresistible.  The bravest\nwarriors fled before him or fell by his lance.  Hector, cautioned\nby Apollo, kept aloof, but the god, assuming the form of one of\nPriam's sons, Lycaon, urged AEneas to encounter the terrible\nwarrior.  AEneas, though he felt himself unequal, did not decline\nthe combat.  He hurled his spear with all his force against the\nshield, the work of Vulcan.  It was formed of five metal plates;\ntwo were of brass, two of tin, and one of gold.  The spear\npierced two thicknesses, but was stopped in the third.  Achilles\nthrew his with better success.  It pierced through the shield of\nAeneas, but glanced near his shoulder and made no wound.  Then\nAEneas seized a stone, such as two men of modern times could\nhardly lift, and was about to throw it, and Achilles, with sword\ndrawn, was about to rush upon him, when Neptune, who looked out\nupon the contest, moved with pity for AEneas, who he saw would\nsurely fall a victim if not speedily rescued, spread a cloud\nbetween the combatants, and lifting AEneas from the ground, bore\nhim over the heads of warriors and steeds to the rear of the\nbattle.  Achilles, when the mist cleared away, looked round in\nvain for his adversary, and acknowledging the prodigy, turned his\narms against other champions.  But none dared stand before him,\nand Priam looking down from his city walls beheld his whole army\nin full flight towards the city.  He gave command to open wide\nthe gates to receive the fugitives, and to shut them as soon as\nthe Trojans should have passed, lest the enemy should enter\nlikewise.  But Achilles was so close in pursuit that that would\nhave been impossible if Apollo had not, in the form of Agenor,\nPriam's son, encountered Achilles for a while, then turned to\nfly, and taken the way apart from the city.  Achilles pursued and\nhad chased his supposed victim far from the walls, when Apollo\ndisclosed himself, and Achilles, perceiving how he had been\ndeluded, gave up the chase.\n\nBut when the rest had escaped into the town Hector stood without,\ndetermined to await the combat.  His old father called to him\nfrom the walls and begged him to retire nor tempt the encounter.\nHis mother, Hecuba, also besought him to the same effect, but all\nin vain.  \"How can I,\" said he to himself, \"by whose command the\npeople went to this day's contest, where so many have fallen,\nseek safety for myself against a single foe?  But what if I offer\nhim to yield up Helen and all her treasures and ample of our own\nbeside?  Ah no!  It is too late.  He would not even hear me\nthrough, but slay me while I spoke.\"   While he thus ruminated,\nAchilles approached, terrible as Mars, his armor flashing\nlighting as he moved.  At that sight Hector's heart failed him\nand he fled.  Achilles swiftly pursued.  They ran, still keeping\nnear the walls, till they had thrice encircled the city.  As\noften as Hector approached the walls Achilles intercepted him and\nforced him to keep out in a wider circle.  But Apollo sustained\nHector's strength, and would not let him sink in weariness.  Then\nPallas, assuming the form of Deiphobus, Hector's bravest brother,\nappeared suddenly at his side.  Hector saw him with delight, and,\nthus strengthened, stopped his flight and turned to meet\nAchilles.  Hector threw his spear, which struck the shield of\nAchilles and bounded back.  He turned to receive another from the\nhand of Deiphobus, but Deiphobus was gone.  Then Hector\nunderstood his doom and said, \"Alas!  It is plain this is my hour\nto die!  I thought Deiphobus at hand, but Pallas deceived me, and\nhe is still in Troy.  But I will not fall inglorious.\"  So\nsaying, he drew his falchion from his side and rushed at once to\ncombat.  Achilles, secured behind his shield, waited the approach\nof Hector.  When he came within reach of his spear, Achilles,\nchoosing with his eye a vulnerable part where the armor leaves\nthe neck uncovered, aimed his spear at that part, and Hector\nfell, death-wounded, and feebly said, \"Spare my body!  Let my\nparents ransom it, and let me receive funeral rites from the sons\nand daughters of Troy.\"  To which Achilles replied, \"Dog, name\nnot ransom nor pity to me, on whom you have brought such dire\ndistress.  No!  Trust me, nought shall save thy carcass from the\ndogs.  Though twenty ransoms and thy weight in gold were offered,\nI would refuse it all.\"\n\nSo saying, he stripped the body of its armor, and fastening cords\nto the feet, tied them behind his chariot, leaving the body to\ntrail along the ground.  Then mounting the chariot he lashed the\nsteeds, and so dragged the body to and fro before the city.  What\nwords can tell the grief of King Priam and Queen Hecuba at this\nsight!  His people could scarce restrain the old king from\nrushing forth.  He threw himself in the dust, and besought them\neach by name to give him way.  Hecuba's distress was not less\nviolent.  The citizens stood round them weeping.  The sound of\nthe mourning reached the ears of Andromache, the wife of Hector,\nas she sat among her maidens at work, and anticipating evil she\nwent forth to the wall.  When she saw the sight there presented,\nshe would have thrown herself headlong from the wall, but fainted\nand fell into the arms of her maidens.  Recovering, she bewailed\nher fate, picturing to herself her country ruined, herself a\ncaptive, and her son dependent for his bread on the charity of\nstrangers.\n\nWhen Achilles and the Greeks had taken their revenge on the\nkiller of Patroclus they busied themselves in paying due funeral\nrites to their friend.  A pile was erected, and the body burned\nwith due solemnity; and then ensued games of strength and skill,\nchariot races, wrestling, boxing, and archery.  Then the chiefs\nsat down to the funeral banquet and after that retired to rest.\nBut Achilles neither partook of the feast nor of sleep.  The\nrecollection of his lost friend kept him awake, remembering their\ncompanionship in toil and dangers, in battle or on the perilous\ndeep.  Before the earliest dawn he left his tent, and joining to\nhis chariot his swift steeds, he fastened Hector's body to be\ndragged behind.  Twice he dragged him round the tomb of\nPatroclus, leaving him at length stretched in the dust.  But\nApollo would not permit the body to be torn or disfigured with\nall this abuse, but preserved it free from all taint or\ndefilement.\n\nWhen Achilles indulged his wrath in thus disgracing brave Hector,\nJupiter in pity summoned Thetis to his presence.  He told her to\ngo to her son and prevail on him to restore the body of Hector to\nhis friends.  Then Jupiter sent Iris to King Priam to encourage\nhim to go to Achilles and beg the body of his son.  Iris\ndelivered her message, and Priam immediately prepared to obey.\nHe opened his treasures and took out rich garments and cloths,\nwith ten talents in gold and two splendid tripods and a golden\ncup of matchless workmanship.  Then he called to his sons and\nbade them draw forth his litter and place in it the various\narticles designed for a ransom to Achilles.\n\nWhen all was ready, the old king with a single companion, as aged\nas himself, the herald Idaeus, drove forth from the gates,\nparting there with Hecuba his queen, and all his friends, who\nlamented him as going to certain death.\n\nBut Jupiter, beholding with compassion the venerable king, sent\nMercury to be his guide and protector.  Mercury, assuming the\nform of a young warrior, presented himself to the aged couple,\nand while at the sight of him they hesitated whether to fly or\nyield, the god approached, and grasping Priam's hand, offered to\nbe their guide to Achilles' tent.  Priam gladly accepted his\noffered service, and he, mounting the carriage, assumed the reins\nand soon conveyed them to the tent of Achilles.  Mercury's wand\nput to sleep all the guards, and without hindrance he introduced\nPriam into the tent where Achilles sat, attended hy two of his\nwarriors.  The old king threw himself at the feet of Achilles and\nkissed those terrible hands which had destroyed so many of his\nsons.  \"Think, O Achilles,\" he said, \"of thy own father, full of\ndays like me, and trembling on the gloomy verge of life.  Perhaps\neven now some neighbor chief oppresses him, and there is none at\nhand to succor him in his distress.  Yet doubtless knowing that\nAchilles lives he still rejoices, hoping that one day he shall\nsee thy face again.  But no comfort cheers me, whose bravest\nsons, so late the flower of Ilium, all have fallen.  Yet one I\nhad, one more than all the rest the strength of my age, whom\nfighting for his country, thou hast slain.  I come to redeem his\nbody, bringing inestimable ransom with me. Achilles, reverence\nthe gods!  Recollect thy father!  For his sake show compassion to\nme!\"  These words moved Achilles and he wept; remembering by\nturns his absent father and his lost friend.  Moved with pity of\nPriam's silver locks and beard, he raised him from the earth and\nthus spake: \"Priam, I know that thou has reached this place\nconducted by some god, for without divine aid no mortal even in\nthe prime of youth had dared the attempt.  I grant thy request;\nmoved thereto by the evident will of Jove.\"  So saying he arose,\nand went forth with his two friends, and unloaded of its charge\nthe litter, leaving two mantles and a robe for the covering of\nthe body, which they placed on the litter, and spread the\ngarments over it, that not unveiled it should be borne back to\nTroy.  Then Achilles dismissed the old king with his attendants,\nhaving first pledged himself to allow a truce of twelve days for\nthe funeral solemnities.\n\nAs the litter approached the city and was descried from the\nwalls, the people poured forth to gaze once more on the face of\ntheir hero.  Foremost of all, the mother and the wife of Hector\ncame, and at the sight of the lifeless body renewed their\nlamentations.  The people all wept with them, and to the going\ndown of the sun there was no pause or abatement of their grief.\n\nThe next day preparations were made for the funeral solemnities.\nFor nine days the people brought wood and built the pile, and on\nthe tenth they placed the body on the summit and applied the\ntorch; while all Troy, thronging forth, encompassed the pile.\nWhen it had completely burned, they quenched the cinders with\nwine, collected the bones and placed them in a golden urn, which\nthey buried in the earth, and reared a pile of stones over the\nspot.\n\n  \"Such honors Ilium to her hero paid,\n  And peaceful slept the mighty Hector's shade.\"\n  Pope's Homer\n\n\n\nChapter XXI\n\nThe Fall of Troy.  Return of the Greeks.  Orestes and Electra\n\nThe story of the Iliad ends with the death of Hector, and it is\nfrom the Odyssey and later poems that we learn the fate of the\nother heroes.  After the death of Hector, Troy did not\nimmediately fall, but receiving aid from new allies still\ncontinued its resistance.  One of these allies was Memnon, the\nAETHIOPIAN prince, whose story we have already told.  Another was\nPenthesilea, queen of the Amazons, who came with a band of female\nwarriors.  All the authorities attest their valor and the fearful\neffect of their war-cry.  Penthesilea slew many of the bravest\nwarriors, but was at last slain by Achilles.  But when the hero\nbent over his fallen foe, and contemplated her beauty, youth and\nvalor, he bitterly regretted his victory.  Thersites, an insolent\nbrawler and demagogue, ridiculed his grief, and was in\nconsequence slain by the hero.\n\nAchilles by chance had seen Polyxena, daughter of King Priam,\nperhaps on occasion of the truce which was allowed the Trojans\nfor the burial of Hector.  He was captivated with her charms, and\nto win her in marriage agreed to use his influence with the\nGreeks to grant peace to Troy.  While in the temple of Apollo,\nnegotiating the marriage, Paris discharged at him a poisoned\narrow, which guided by Apollo, wounded Achilles in the heel, the\nonly vulnerable part about him.  For Thetis, his mother, had\ndipped him when an infant in the river Styx, which made every\npart of him invulnerable except the heel by which she held him.\n(The story of the invulnerability of Achilles is not found in\nHomer, and is inconsistent with his account.  For how could\nAchilles require the aid of celestial armor if he were\ninvulnerable?)\n\nThe body of Achilles, so treacherously slain, was rescued by Ajax\nand Ulysses.  Thetis directed the Greeks to bestow her son's\narmor on the hero who, of all survivors, should be judged most\ndeserving of it.  Ajax and Ulysses were the only claimants; a\nselect number of the other chiefs were appointed to award the\nprize.  It was awarded to Ulysses, thus placing wisdom before\nvalor; whereupon Ajax slew himself.  On the spot where his blood\nsank into the earth a flower sprang up, called the hyacinth,\nbearing on its leaves the first two letters of the name of Ajax,\nAi, the Greek for \"woe.\"  Thus Ajax is a claimant with the boy\nHyacinthus for the honor of giving birth to this flower.  There\nis a species of Larkspur which represents the hyacinth of the\npoets in preserving the memory of this event, the Delphinium\nAjacis   Ajax's Larkspur.\n\nIt was now discovered that Troy could not be taken but by the\narrows of Hercules.  They were in possession of Philoctetes, the\nfriend who had been with Hercules at the last, and lighted his\nfuneral pyre.  Philoctetes had joined the Grecian expedition\nagainst Troy, but had accidentally wounded his foot with one of\nthe poisoned arrows, and the smell from his wound proved so\noffensive that his companions carried him to the Isle of Lemnos\nand left him there.  Diomedes was now sent to induce him to\nrejoin the army.  He succeeded.  Philoctetes was cured of his\nwound by Machaon, and Paris was the first victim of the fatal\narrows.  In his distress Paris bethought him of one whom in his\nprosperity he had forgotten.  This was the nymph OEnone, whom he\nhad married when a youth, and had abandoned for the fatal beauty\nHelen.  OEnone, remembering the wrongs she had suffered, refused\nto heal the wound, and Paris went back to Troy and died.  OEnone\nquickly repented, and hastened after him with remedies, but came\ntoo late, and in her grief hung herself.\n\nTennyson has chosen OEnone as the subject of a short poem; but he\nhas omitted the concluding part of the story, the return of Paris\nwounded, her cruelty and subsequent repentance.\n\n  \"---- Hither came at noon\n  Mournful OENONE, wandering forlorn\n  Of Paris, once her playmate on the hills.\n  Her cheek had lost the rose, and round her neck\n  Floated her hair, or seemed to float in rest.\n  She, leaning on a fragment twined with vine,\n  Sang to the stillness, till the mountain-shade\n  Sloped downward to her seat from the upper cliff.\n  .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .\n  \"'O Mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida,\n  Dear Mother Ida, hearken ere I die.\n  I waited underneath the dawning hills,\n  Aloft the mountain lawn was dewy-dark,\n  And dewy-dark aloft the mountain pine:\n  Beautiful Paris, evil-hearted Paris,\n  Leading a jet-black goat, white-horned, white-hooved,\n  Come up from reedy Simois, all alone.\n\n  \"'O Mother Ida, hearken ere I die.\n  Far off the torrent called me from the cliff:\n  Far up the solitary morning smote\n  The streaks of virgin snow.  With downdropt eyes\n  I sat alone: white-breasted like a star\n  Fronting the dawn he moved; a leopard-skin\n  Drooped from his shoulder, but his sunny hair\n  Clustered about his temples like a God's,\n  And his cheek brightened as the foambow brightens\n  When the wind blows the foam, and all my heart\n  Went forth to embrace him coming, ere he came.\n\n  \"'Dear Mother Ida, hearken ere I die.\n  He smiled, and opening out his milk-white palm\n  Disclosed a fruit of pure Hesperian gold,\n  That smelt ambrosially, and while I looked\n  And listened, the full-flowing river of speech\n  Came down upon my heart.\n\n  \"My own OENONE,\n  Beautiful-browed OENONE, my own soul,\n  Behold this fruit, whose gleaming rind ingraven\n  'For the most fair,' would seem award it thine\n  As lovelier than whatever Oread haunt\n  The knolls of Ida, loveliest in all grace\n  Of movement, and the charm of married brows.\"\n\n  \"'Dear Mother Ida, hearken ere I die.\n  He prest the blossom of his lips to mine,\n  And added, \"This was cast upon the board,\n  When all the full-faced presence of the gods\n  Hanged in the halls of Peleus; whereupon\n  Rose feud, with question unto whom 'twas due;\n  But light-foot Iris brought it yester-eve\n  Delivering, that to me, by common voice\n  Elected umpire, Her, comes to-day,\n  Pallas and Aphrodite, claiming each\n  This meed of fairest.  Thou within the cave\n  Beyond yon whispering tuft of oldest pine,\n  May'st well behold them unbeheld, unheard\n  Hear all, and see thy Paris judge of gods.\"'\"\n\nThere was in Troy a celebrated statue of Minerva called the\nPalladium.  It was said to have fallen from heaven, and the\nbelief was that the city could not be taken so long as this\nstatue remained within it.  Ulysses and Diomedes entered the city\nin disguise, and succeeded in obtaining the Palladium, which they\ncarried off to the Grecian camp.\n\nBut Troy still held out, and the Greeks began to despair of ever\nsubduing it by force, and by advice of Ulysses resolved to resort\nto stratagem.  They pretended to be making preparations to\nabandon the siege, and a portion of the ships were withdrawn, and\nlay hid behind a neighboring island.  The Greeks then constructed\nan immense WOODEN HORSE, which they gave out was intended as a\npropitiatory offering to Minerva, but in fact was filled with\narmed men.  The remaining Greeks then betook themselves to their\nships and sailed away, as if for a final departure.  The Trojans,\nseeing the encampment broken up and the fleet gone, concluded the\nenemy to have abandoned the siege.  The gates were thrown open,\nand the whole population issued forth rejoicing at the long-\nprohibited liberty of passing freely over the scene of the late\nencampment.  The great horse was the chief object of curiosity.\nAll wondered what it could be for.  Some recommended to take it\ninto the city as a trophy; others felt afraid of it.\n\nWhile they hesitate, Laocoon, the priest of Neptune, exclaims,\n\"What madness, citizens, is this!  Have you not learned enough of\nGrecian fraud to be on your guard against it?  For my part I fear\nthe Greeks even when they offer gifts.\"  So saying he threw his\nlance at the horse's side.  It struck, and a hollow sound\nreverberated like a groan.  Then perhaps the people might have\ntaken his advice and destroyed the fatal horse and all its\ncontents; but just at that moment a group of people appeared\ndragging forward one who seemed a prisoner and a Greek.\nStupefied with terror he was brought before the chiefs, who\nreassured him, promising that his life should be spared on\ncondition of his returning true answers to the questions asked\nhim.  He informed them that he was a Greek, Sinon by name, and\nthat in consequence of the malice of Ulysses he had been left\nbehind by his countrymen at their departure.  With regard to the\nwooden horse, he told them that it was a propitiatory offering to\nMinerva, and made so huge for the express purpose of preventing\nits being carried within the city; for Calchas the prophet had\ntold them that if the Trojans took possession of it, they would\nassuredly triumph over the Greeks.  This language turned the tide\nof the people's feelings, and they began to think how they might\nbest secure the monstrous horse and the favorable auguries\nconnected with it, when suddenly a prodigy occurred which left no\nroom to doubt.  There appeared advancing over the sea two immense\nserpents.  They came upon the land, and the crowd fled in all\ndirections.  The serpents advanced directly to the spot where\nLaocoon stood with his two sons.  They first attacked the\nchildren, winding round their bodies and breathing their\npestilential breath in their faces.  The father, attempting to\nrescue them, is next seized and involved in the serpents' coils.\nHe struggles to tear them away, but they overpower all his\nefforts and strangle him and the children in their poisonous\nfolds.  This event was regarded as a clear indication of the\ndispleasure of the gods at Laocoon's irreverent treatment of the\nwooden horse, which they no longer hesitated to regard as a\nsacred object and prepared to introduce with due solemnity into\nthe city.  This was done with songs and triumphal acclamations,\nand the day closed with festivity.  In the night the armed men\nwho were enclosed in the body of the horse, being led out by the\ntraitor Sinon, opened the gates of the city to their friends who\nhad returned under cover of the night.  The city was set on fire;\nthe people, overcome with feasting and sleep, put to the sword,\nand Troy completely subdued.\n\nOne of the most celebrated groups of statuary in existence is\nthat of Laocoon and his children in the embrace of the serpents.\n\"There is a cast of it in the Boston Athenaeum; the original is\nin the Vatican at Rome.  The following lines are from the Childe\nHarold of Byron:\n\n  \"Now turning to the Vatican go see\n  Laocoon's torture dignifying pain;\n  A father's love and mortal's agony\n  With as immortal's patience blending; vain\n  The struggle!  Vain against the coiling strain\n  And gripe and deepening of the dragon's grasp\n  The old man's clinch; the long envenomed chain\n  Rivets the living links; the enormous asp\n  Enforces pang on pang and stifles gasp on gasp.\"\n\nThe comic poets will also occasionally borrow a classical\nallusion.  The following is from Swift's description of a City\nShower:\n\n  \"Boxed in a chair the beau impatient sits,\n  While spouts run clattering o'er the roof by fits,\n  And over and anon with frightful din\n  The leather sounds; he trembles from within.\n  So when Troy chairmen bore the wooden steed\n  Pregnant with Greeks, impatient to be freed,\n  (Those bully Greeks, who, as the moderns do,\n  Instead of paying chairmen, run them through;)\n  Laocoon struck the outside with a spear,\n  And each imprisoned champion quaked with fear.\"\n\nKing Priam lived to see the downfall of his kingdom, and was\nslain at last on the fatal night when the Greeks took the city.\nHe had armed himself and was about to mingle with the combatants,\nbut was prevailed on by Hecuba, his aged queen, to take refuge\nwith herself and his daughters as a suppliant at the altar of\nJupiter.  While there, his youngest son Polites, pursued by\nPyrrhus (Pyrrhus's exclamation, \"Not such aid nor such defenders\ndoes the time require,\" has become proverbial.), the son of\nAchilles, rushed in wounded, and expired at the feet of his\nfather; whereupon Priam, overcome with indignation, hurled his\nspear with feeble hand against Pyrrhus, and was forthwith slain\nby him.\n\nQueen Hecuba and her daughter Cassandra were carried captives to\nGreece.  Cassandra had been loved by Apollo, and he gave her the\ngift of prophecy; but afterwards offended with her, he rendered\nthe gift unavailing by ordaining that her predictions should\nnever be believed.  Polyxena, another daughter, who had been\nloved by Achilles, was demanded by the ghost of this warrior, and\nwas sacrificed by the Greeks upon his tomb.\n\nFrom Schiller's poem \"Cassandra\":\n\n  \"And men my prophet wail deride!\n  The solemn sorrow dies in scorn;\n  And lonely in the waste, I hide\n  The tortured heart that would forewarn.\n  Amid the happy, unregarded,\n  Mock'd by their fearful joy, I trod;\n  Oh, dark to me the lot awarded,\n  Thou evil Pythian God!\n\n  \"Thine oracle, in vain to be,\n  Oh, wherefore am I thus consigned,\n  With eyes that every truth must see,\n  Lone in the city of the blind?\n  Cursed with the anguish of a power\n  To view the fates I may not thrall,\n  The hovering tempest still must lower,\n  The horror must befall!\n\n  Boots it th veil to lift, and give\n  To sight the frowning fates beneath?\n  For error is the life we live,\n  And, oh, our knowledge is but death!\n  Take back the clear and awful mirror,\n  Shut from my eyes the blood-red glare;\n  Thy truth is but the gift of terror,\n  When mortal lips declare.\n\n  \"My blindness give to me once more,\n  They gay dim senses that rejoice;\n  The past's delighted songs are o'er\n  For lips that speak a prophet's voice.\n  To me the future thou hast granted;\n  I miss the moment from the chain\n  The happy present hour enchanted!\n  Take back thy gift again!\"\n  Sir Edw. L. Bulwer's translation\n\n\nMENELAUS AND HELEN\n\nOur readers will be anxious to know the fate of Helen, the fair\nbut guilty occasion of so much slaughter.  On the fall of Troy\nMenelaus recovered possession of his wife, who had not ceased to\nlove him, though she had yielded to the might of Venus and\ndeserted him for another.  After the death of Paris she aided the\nGreeks secretly on several occasions, and in particular when\nUlysses and Diomedes entered the city in disguise to carry off\nthe Palladium.  She saw and recognized Ulysses, but kept the\nsecret, and even assisted them in obtaining the image.  Thus she\nbecame reconciled to her husband, and they were among the first\nto leave the shores of Troy for their native land.  But having\nincurred the displeasure of the gods they were driven by storms\nfrom shore to shore of the Mediterranean, visiting Cyprus,\nPhoenicia and Egypt.  In Egypt they were kindly treated and\npresented with rich gifts, of which Helen's share was a golden\nspindle and a basket on wheels.  The basket was to hold the wool\nand spools for the queen's work.\n\nDyer, in his poem of The Fleece, thus alludes to the incident:\n\n  \"----many yet adhere\n  To the ancient distaff at the bosom fixed.\n  Casting the whirling spindle as they walk.\n  .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .\n  This was of old, in no inglorious days,\n  The mode of spinning, when the Egyptian prince\n  A golden distaff gave that beauteous nymph,\n  Too beauteous Helen; no uncourtly gift.\"\n\nMilton also alludes to a famous recipe for an invigorating\ndraught, called Nepenthe, which the Egyptian queen gave to Helen:\n\n  \"Not that Nepenthes which the wife of Thone\n  In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena,\n  Is of such power to stir up joy as this,\n  To life so friendly or so cool to thirst.\"\n  Comus\n\nMenelaus and Helen at length arrived in safety at Sparta, resumed\ntheir royal dignity, and lived and reigned in splendor; and when\nTelemachus, the son of Ulysses, in search of his father, arrived\nat Sparta, he found Menelaus and Helen celebrating the marriage\nof their daughter Hermione to Neoptolemus, son of Achilles.\n\nIn \"the Victory Feast,\" Schiller thus reviews the return of the\nGreek heroes.\n\n  \"The son of Atreus, king of men,\n  The muster of the hosts surveyed,\n  How dwindled from the thousands, when\n  Along Scamander first arrayed!\n  With sorrow and the cloudy thought,\n  The great king's stately look grew dim,\n  Of all the hosts to Ilion brought,\n  How few to Greece return with him!\n  Still let the song to gladness call,\n  For those who yet their home shall greet!\n  For them the blooming life is sweet;\n  Return is not for all!\n\n  \"Nor all who reach their native land\n  May long the joy of welcome feel;\n  Beside the household gods may stand\n  Grim Murder, with awaiting steel\n  And they who 'scape the foe, may die\n  Beneath the foul, familiar glaive.\n  Thus he to whom prophetic eye\n  Her light the wise Minerva gave;\n  'Ah!  Bless'd, whose hearth, to memory true\n  The goddess keeps unstained and pure;\n  For woman's guile is deep and sure,\n  And falsehood loves the new!'\n\n  \"The Spartan eyes his Helen's charms,\n  By the best blood of Greece recaptured;\n  Round that fair form his glowing arms\n  (A second bridal) wreath, enraptured.\n  Woe waits the work of evil birth,\n  Revenge to deeds unblessed is given!\n  For watchful o'er the things of earth,\n  The eternal council-halls of heaven.\n  Yes, ill shall never ill repay;\n  Jove to the impious hands that stain\n  The altar of man's heart,\n  Again the doomer's doom shall weigh!\"\n  Sir Edw. L. Bulwer's translation\n\n\nAGAMEMNON, ORESTES, AND ELECTRA\n\nAgamemnon, the general-in-chief of the Greeks, the brother of\nMenelaus, who had been drawn into the quarrel to avenge another's\nwrongs, was not so fortunate in the issue as his brother.  During\nhis absence his wife Clytemnestra had been false to him, and when\nhis return was expected, she, with her paramour, AEgisthus, laid\na plan for his destruction, and at the banquet given to celebrate\nhis return, murdered him.\n\nThe conspirators intended also to slay his son Orestes, a lad not\nyet old enough to be an object of apprehension, but from whom, if\nhe should be suffered to grow up, there might be danger.\nElectra, the sister of Orestes, saved her brother's life by\nsending him secretly away to his uncle Strophius, king of Phocis.\nIn the palace of Strophius, Orestes grew up with the king's son,\nPylades, and formed with him that ardent friendship which has\nbecome proverbial.  Electra frequently reminded her brother hy\nmessengers of the duty of avenging his father's death, and when\ngrown up he consulted the oracle of Delphi, which confirmed him\nin his design.  He therefore repaired in disguise to Argos,\npretending to he a messenger from Strophius, who had come to\nannounce the death of Orestes, and brought the ashes of the\ndeceased in a funeral urn.  After visiting his father's tomb and\nsacrificing upon it, according to the rites of the ancients, he\nmade himself known to his sister Electra, and soon after slew\nboth AEgisthus and Clytemnestra.\n\nThis revolting act, the slaughter of a mother by her son, though\nalleviated by the guilt of the victim and the express command of\nthe gods, did not fail to awaken in the breasts of the ancients\nthe same abhorrence that it does in ours.  The Eumenides,\navenging deities, seized upon Orestes, and drove him frantic from\nland to land.  Pylades accompanied him in his wanderings, and\nwatched over him.  At length in answer to a second appeal to the\noracle, he was directed to go to Tauris in Scythia, and to bring\nthence a statue of Diana which was believed to have fallen from\nheaven.  Accordingly Orestes and Pylades went to Tauris, where\nthe barbarous people were accustomed to sacrifice to the goddess\nall strangers who fell into their hands.  The two friends were\nseized and carried bound to the temple to be made victims.  But\nthe priestess of Diana was no other than Iphigenia, the sister of\nOrestes, who, our readers will remember, was snatched away by\nDiana, at the moment when she was about to be sacrificed.\nAscertaining from the prisoners who they were, Iphigenia\ndisclosed herself to them, and the three made their escape with\nthe statue of the goddess, and returned to Mycenae.\n\nBut Orestes was not yet relieved from the vengeance of the\nErinnyes.  At length he took refuge with Minerva at Athens.  The\ngoddess afforded him protection, and appointed the court of\nAreopagus to decide his fate.  The Erinnyes brought forward their\naccusation, and Orestes made the command of the Delphic oracle\nhis excuse.  When the court voted and the voices were equally\ndivided, Orestes was acquitted by the command of Minerva.\n\nByron, in Childe Harold, Canto IV, alludes to the story of\nOrestes:\n\n  \"O thou who never yet of human wrong\n  Left the unbalanced scale, great Nemesis!\n  Thou who didst call the Furies from the abyss,\n  And round Orestes bade them howl and hiss,\n  For that unnatural retribution,   just,\n  Had it but been from hands less near,   in this,\n  Thy former realm, I call thee from the dust!\"\n\nOne of the most pathetic scenes in the ancient drama is that in\nwhich Sophocles represents the meeting of Orestes and Electra, on\nhis return from Phocis.  Orestes, mistaking Electra for one of\nthe domestics, and desirous of keeping his arrival a secret till\nthe hour of vengeance should arrive, produces the urn in which\nhis ashes are supposed to rest.  Electra, believing him to be\nreally dead, takes the urn, and embracing it, pours forth her\ngrief in language full of tenderness and despair.\n\nMilton, in one of his sonnets, says:\n\n  \"The repeated air\n  Of sad Electra's poet had the power\n  To save the Athenian walls from ruin bare.\"\n\nThis alludes to the story that when, on one occasion, the city of\nAthens was at the mercy of her Spartan foes, and it was proposed\nto destroy it, the thought was rejected upon the accidental\nquotation, by some one, of a chorus of Euripides.\n\n\nTROY\n\nAfter hearing so much about the city of Troy and its heroes, the\nreader will perhaps be surprised to learn that the exact site of\nthat famous city is still a matter of dispute.  There are some\nvestiges of tombs on the plain which most nearly answers to the\ndescription given by Homer and the ancient geographers, but no\nother evidence of the former existence of a great city.  Byron\nthus describes the present appearance of the scene:\n\n  \"The winds are high, and Helle's tide\n  Rolls darkly heaving to the main;\n  And night's descending shadows hide\n  That field with blood bedewed in vain,\n  The desert of old Priam's pride,\n  The tombs, sole relics of his reign,\n  All save immortal dreams that could beguile\n  The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle.\"\n  Bride of Abydos.\n\n\n\nChapter XXII\n\nAdventures of Ulysses.  The Lotus-Eaters.  Cyclopes.  Circe.\nSirens.  Scylla and Charybdis.  Calypso\n\nThe romantic poem of the Odyssey is now to engage our attention.\nIt narrates the wanderings of Ulysses (Odysseus in the Greek\nlanguage) in his return from Troy to his own kingdom of Ithaca.\n\nFrom Troy the vessels first made land at Ismarus, a city of the\nCiconians, where, in a skirmish with the inhabitants, Ulysses\nlost six men from each ship.  Sailing thence they were overtaken\nby a storm which drove them for nine days along the sea till they\nreached the country of the Lotus-eaters.  Here, after watering,\nUlysses sent three of his men to discover who the inhabitants\nwere.  These men on coming among the Lotus-eaters were kindly\nentertained by them, and were given some of their own food, the\nlotus-plant to eat.  The effect of this food was such that those\nwho partook of it lost all thoughts of home and wished to remain\nin that country.  It was by main force that Ulysses dragged these\nmen away, and he was even obliged to tie them under the benches\nof his ship.  (Tennyson in the Lotus-eaters has charmingly\nexpressed the dreamy languid feeling which the lotus-food is said\nto have produced:\n\n  \"How sweet it were, hearing the downward stream\n  With half-shut eyes ever to seem\n  Falling asleep in a half-dream!\n  To dream and dream, like yonder amber light\n  Which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height;\n  To hear each other's whispered speech;\n  Eating the lotus, day by day,\n  To watch the crisping ripples on the beach,\n  And tender curving lines of creamy spray;\n  To lend our hearts and spirits wholly\n  To the influence of mild-minded melancholy;\n  To muse and brood and live again in memory,\n  With those old faces of our infancy\n  Heaped over with a mound of grass,\n  Two handfuls of white dust, shut in an urn of brass.\")\n\nThey next arrived at the country of the Cyclopes.  The Cyclopes\nwere giants, who inhabited an island of which they were the only\npossessors.  The name means \"round eye,\" and these giants were so\ncalled because they had but one eye, and that placed in the\nmiddle of the forehead.  They dwelt in caves and fed on the wild\nproductions of the island and on what their flocks yielded, for\nthey were shepherds.  Ulysses left the main body of his ships at\nanchor, and with one vessel went to the Cyclopes' island to\nexplore for supplies.  He landed with his companions, carrying\nwith them a jar of wine for a present, and coming to a large cave\nthey entered it, and finding no one within examined its contents.\nThey found it stored with the riches of the flock, quantities of\ncheese, pails and bowls of milk, lambs and kids in their pens,\nall in nice order.  Presently arrived the master of the cave,\nPolyphemus, bearing an immense bundle of firewood, which he threw\ndown before the cavern's mouth.  He then drove into the cave the\nsheep and goats to be milked, and, entering, rolled to the cave's\nmouth an enormous rock, that twenty oxen could not draw.  Next he\nsat down and milked his ewes, preparing a part for cheese, and\nsetting the rest aside for his customary drink.  Then turning\nround his great eye he discerned the strangers, and growled out\nto them, demanding who they were, and where from.  Ulysses\nreplied most humbly, stating that they were Greeks, from the\ngreat expedition that had lately won so much glory in the\nconquest of Troy; that they were now on their way home, and\nfinished by imploring his hospitality in the name of the gods.\nPolyphemus deigned no answer, but reaching out his hand, seized\ntwo of the Greeks, whom he hurled against the side of the cave,\nand dashed out their brains.  He proceeded to devour them with\ngreat relish, and having made a hearty meal, stretched himself\nout on the floor to sleep.  Ulysses was tempted to seize the\nopportunity and plunge his sword into him as he slept, but\nrecollected that it would only expose them all to certain\ndestruction, as the rock with which the giant had closed up the\ndoor was far beyond their power to remove, and they would\ntherefore be in hopeless imprisonment.  Next morning the giant\nseized two more of the Greeks, and dispatched them in the same\nmanner as their companions, feasting on their flesh till no\nfragment was left.  He then moved away the rock from the door,\ndrove out his flocks, and went out, carefully replacing the\nbarrier after him.  When he was gone Ulysses planned how he might\ntake vengeance for his murdered friends, and effect his escape\nwith his surviving companions.  He made his men prepare a massive\nbar of wood cut by the Cyclops for a staff, which they found in\nthe cave.  They sharpened the end of it and seasoned it in the\nfire, and hid it under the straw on the cavern floor.  Then four\nof the boldest were selected, with whom Ulysses joined himself as\na fifth.  The Cyclops came home at evening, rolled away the stone\nand drove in his flock as usual.  After milking them and making\nhis arrangements as before, he seized two more of Ulysses'\ncompanions and dashed their brains out, and made his evening meal\nupon them as he had on the others.  After he had supped, Ulysses,\napproaching him, handed him a bowl of wine, saying, \"Cyclops,\nthis is wine; taste and drink after thy meal of man's flesh.\"  He\ntook and drank it, and was hugely delighted with it, and called\nfor more.  Ulysses supplied him once and again, which pleased the\ngiant so much that he promised him as a favor that he should be\nthe last of the party devoured.  He asked his name, to which\nUlysses replied, \"My name is Noman.\"\n\nAfter his supper the giant lay down to repose, and was soon sound\nasleep.  Then Ulysses with his four select friends thrust the end\nof the stake into the fire till it was all one burning coal, then\npoising it exactly above the giant's only eye, they buried it\ndeeply into the socket, twirling it round and round as a\ncarpenter does his auger.  The howling monster filled the cavern\nwith his outcry, and Ulysses with his aids nimbly got out of his\nway and concealed themselves in the cave.  The Cyclops,\nbellowing, called aloud on all the Cyclopes dwelling in the caves\naround him, far and near.  They on his cry flocked around the\nden, and inquired what grievous hurt had caused him to sound such\nan alarm and break their slumbers.  He replied, \"O friends, I\ndie, and Noman gives the blow.\"  They answered, \"If no man hurts\nthee it is the stroke of Jove, and thou must bear it.\"  So\nsaying, they left him groaning.\n\nNext morning the Cyclops rolled away the stone to let his flock\nout to pasture, but planted himself in the door of the cave to\nfeel of all as they went out, that Ulysses and his men should not\nescape with them.  But Ulysses had made his men harness the rams\nof the flock three abreast, with osiers which they found on the\nfloor of the cave.  To the middle ram of the three one of the\nGreeks suspended himself, so protected by the exterior rams on\neither side.  As they passed, the giant felt of the animals'\nbacks and sides, but never thought of their bellies; so the men\nall passed safe, Ulysses himself being on the last one that\npassed.  When they had got a few paces from the cavern, Ulysses\nand his friends released themselves from their rams, and drove a\ngood part of the flock down to the shore to their boat.  They put\nthem aboard with all haste, then pushed off from the shore, and\nwhen at a safe distance Ulysses shouted, \"Cyclops, the gods have\nwell requited thee for thy atrocious deeds.  Know it is Ulysses\nto whom thou owest thy shameful loss of sight.\"  The Cyclops,\nhearing this, seized a rock that projected from the side of the\nmountain, and rending it from its bed he lifted it high in the\nair, then exerting all his force, hurled it in the direction of\nthe voice.  Down came the mass, just clearing the vessel's stern.\nThe ocean, at the plunge of the huge rock, heaved the ship\ntowards the land, so that it barely escaped being swamped by the\nwaves.  When they had with the utmost difficulty pulled off\nshore, Ulysses was about to hail the giant again, but his friends\nbesought him not to do so.  He could not forbear, however,\nletting the giant know that they had escaped his missile, but\nwaited till they had reached a safer distance than before,   The\ngiant answered them with curses, but Ulysses and his friends\nplied their oars vigorously, and soon regained their companions.\n\nUlysses next arrived at the island of AEolus.  To this monarch\nJupiter had intrusted the government of the winds, to send them\nforth or retain them at his will.  He treated Ulysses hospitably,\nand at his departure gave him, tied up in a leathern bag with a\nsilver string, such winds as might be hurtful and dangerous,\ncommanding fair winds to blow the barks towards their country.\nNine days they sped before the wind, and all that time Ulysses\nhad stood at the helm, without sleep.  At last quite exhausted he\nlay down to sleep.  While he slept, the crew conferred together\nabout the mysterious bag, and concluded it must contain treasures\ngiven by the hospitable King AEolus to their commander.  Tempted\nto secure some portion for themselves they loosed the string,\nwhen immediately the winds rushed forth.  The ships were driven\nfar from their course, and back again to the island they had just\nleft.  AEolus was so indignant at their folly that he refused to\nassist them further, and they were obliged to labor over their\ncourse once more by means of their oars.\n\n\nTHE LAESTRYGONIANS\n\nThe next adventure was with the barbarous tribe of\nLaestrygonians.  The vessels pushed into the harbor, tempted by\nthe secure appearance of the cove, completely land-locked;\nUlysses alone moored his vessel without.  As soon as the\nLaestrygonians found the ships completely in their power they\nattacked them, having huge stones which broke and overturned\nthem, and with their spears dispatched the seamen as they\nstruggled in the water.  All the vessels with their crews were\ndestroyed, except Ulysses' own ship which had remained outside,\nand finding no safety but in flight, he exhorted his men to ply\ntheir oars vigorously, and they escaped.\n\nWith grief for their slain companions mixed with joy at their own\nescape, they pursued their way till they arrived at the Aeaean\nisle, where dwelt Circe, the daughter of the sun.  Landing here\nUlysses climbed a hill, and gazing round saw no signs of\nhabitation except in one spot at the centre of the island, where\nhe perceived a palace embowered with trees.  He sent forward one-\nhalf of his crew, under the command of Eurylochus, to see what\nprospect of hospitality they might find.  As they approached the\npalace, they found themselves surrounded by lions, tigers and\nwolves, not fierce, but tamed by Circe's art, for she was a\npowerful magician.  All these animals had once been men, but had\nbeen changed by Circe's enchantments into the forms of beasts.\nThe sounds of soft music were heard from within, and a sweet\nfemale voice singing.  Eurylochus called aloud and the goddess\ncame forth and invited them in.  They all gladly entered except\nEurylochus, who suspected danger.  The goddess conducted her\nguests to a seat, and had them served with wine and other\ndelicacies.  When they had feasted heartily, she touched them one\nby one with her wand, and they became immediately changed into\nSWINE, in \"head, body, voice and bristles,\" yet with their\nintellects as before.  She shut them in her sties, and supplied\nthem with acorns and such other things as swine love.\n\nEurylochus hurried back to the ship and told the tale.  Ulysses\nthereupon determined to go himself, and try if by any means he\nmight deliver his companions.  As he strode onward alone, he met\na youth who addressed him familiarly, appearing to be acquainted\nwith his adventures.  He announced himself as Mercury, and\ninformed Ulysses of the arts of Circe, and of the danger of\napproaching her.  As Ulysses was not to be dissuaded from his\nattempts, Mercury provided him with a sprig of the plant Moly, of\nwonderful power to resist sorceries, and instructed him how to\nact.  Ulysses proceeded, and reaching the palace was courteously\nreceived by Circe, who entertained him as she had done his\ncompanions, and after he had eaten and drank, touched him with\nher wand, saying, \"Hence seek the sty and wallow with thy\nfriends.\"  But he, instead of obeying, drew his sword and rushed\nupon her with fury in his countenance.  She fell on her knees\nand begged for mercy.  He dictated a solemn oath that she would\nrelease his companions and practise no further against him or\nthem; and she repeated it, at the same time promising to dismiss\nthem all in safety after hospitably entertaining them.  She was\nas good as her word.  The men were restored to their shapes, the\nrest of the crew summoned from the shore, and the whole\nmagnificently entertained day after day, till Ulysses seemed to\nhave forgotten his native land, and to have reconciled himself to\nan inglorious life of ease and pleasure.\n\nAt length his companions recalled him to nobler sentiments, and\nhe received their admonition gratefully.  Circe aided their\ndeparture, and instructed them how to pas safely by the coast of\nthe Sirens.  The Sirens were Sea-nymphs who had the power of\ncharming by their song all who had heard them, so that the\nunhappy mariners were irresistibly impelled to cast themselves\ninto the sea to their destruction.  Circe directed Ulysses to\nfill the ears of his seamen with wax, so that they should not\nhear the strain; and to cause himself to be bound to the mast,\nand his people to be strictly enjoined, whatever he might say or\ndo, by no means to release him till they should have passed the\nSirens' island.  Ulysses obeyed these directions.  He filled the\nears of his people with wax, and suffered them to bind him with\ncords firmly to the mast.  As they approached the Sirens' island,\nthe sea was calm, and over the waters came the notes of music so\nravishing and attractive, that Ulysses struggled to get loose,\nand by cries and signs to his people, begged to be released; but\nthey, obedient to his previous orders, sprang forward and bound\nhim still faster.  They held on their course, and the music grew\nfainter till it ceased to be heard, when with joy Ulysses gave\nhis companions the signal to unseal their ears, and they relieved\nhim from his bonds.\n\nThe imagination of a modern poet, Keats, has discovered for us\nthe thoughts that passed through the brains of the victims of\nCirce, after their transformation.  In his Endymion he represents\none of them, a monarch in the guise of an elephant, addressing\nthe sorceress in human language thus:\n\n  \"I sue not for my happy crown again;\n  I sue not for my phalanx on the plain;\n  I sue not for my lone, my widowed wife;\n  I sue not for my ruddy drops of life,\n  My children fair, my lovely girls and boys;\n  I will forget them; I will pass these joys,\n  Ask nought so heavenward; so too   too high;\n  Only I pray, as fairest boon, to die;\n  To be delivered from this cumbrous flesh,\n  From this gross, detestable, filthy mesh,\n  And merely given to the cold, bleak air.\n  Have mercy, goddess!  Circe, feel my prayer!\"\n\n\nSCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS\n\nUlysses had been warned by Circe of the two monsters Scylla and\nCharybdis.  We have already met with Scylla in the story of\nGlaucus, and remember that she was once a beautiful maiden and\nwas changed into a snaky monster by Circe.  She dwelt in a cave\nhigh up on the cliff, from whence she was accustomed to thrust\nforth her long necks for she had six heads, and in each of her\nmouths to seize one of the crew of every vessel passing within\nreach.  The other terror, Charybdis, was a gulf, nearly on a\nlevel with the water.  Thrice each day the water rushed into a\nfrightful chasm, and thrice was disgorged.  Any vessel coming\nnear the whirlpool when the tide was rushing in must inevitably\nby ingulfed; not Neptune himself could save it.\n\nOn approaching the haunt of the dread monsters, Ulysses kept\nstrict watch to discover them.  The roar of the waters as\nCharybdis ingulfed them, gave warning at a distance, but Scylla\ncould nowhere be discerned.  While Ulysses and his men watched\nwith anxious eyes the dreadful whirlpool, they were not equally\non their guard from the attack of Scylla, and the monster darting\nforth her snaky heads, caught six of his men, and bore them away\nshrieking to her den.  It was the saddest sight Ulysses had yet\nseen; to behold his friends thus sacrificed and hear their cries,\nunable to afford them any assistance.\n\nCirce had warned him of another danger.  After passing Scylla and\nCharybdis, the next land he would make was Trinakria, an island\nwhereon were pastured the cattle of Hyperion, the Sun, tended by\nhis daughters Lampetia and Phaethusa.  These flocks must not be\nviolated, whatever the wants of the voyagers might be.  If this\ninjunction were transgressed, destruction was sure to fall on the\noffenders.\n\nUlysses would willingly have passed the island of the Sun without\nstopping, but his companions so urgently pleaded for the rest and\nrefreshment that would be derived from anchoring and passing the\nnight on shore, that Ulysses yielded.  He bound them, however,\nwith an oath that they would not touch one of the animals of the\nsacred flocks and herds, but content themselves with what\nprovision they yet had left of the supply which Circe had put on\nboard.  So long as this supply lasted the people kept their oath,\nbut contrary winds detained them at the island for a month, and\nafter consuming all their stock of provisions, they were forced\nto rely upon the birds and fishes they could catch.  Famine\npressed them, and at length one day, in the absence of Ulysses,\nthey slew some of the cattle, vainly attempting to make amends\nfor the deed by offering from them a portion to the offended\npowers.  Ulysses, on his return to the shore, was horror-struck\nat perceiving what they had done, and the more so on account of\nthe portentous signs which followed.  The skins crept on the\nground, and the joints of meat lowed on the spits while roasting.\n\nThe wind becoming fair they sailed from the island.  They had not\ngone far when the weather changed, and a storm of thunder and\nlightning ensued.  A stroke of lightning shattered their mast,\nwhich in its fall killed the pilot.  At last the vessel itself\ncame to pieces.  The keel and mast floating side by side, Ulysses\nformed of them a raft, to which he clung, and, the wind changing,\nthe waves bore him to Calypso's island.  All the rest of the crew\nperished.\n\nThe following allusion to the stories we have just been relating\nis from Milton's Comus, line 252:\n\n  \"I have often heard\n  My mother Circe and the Sirens three,\n  Amidst the flowery-kirtled Naiades,\n  Culling their potent herbs and baneful drugs,\n  Who as they sung would take the prisoned soul\n  And lap it in Elysium.  Scylla wept,\n  And chid her barking waves into attention.\n  And fell Charybdis murmured soft applause.\"\n\nScylla and Charybdis have become proverbial, to denote opposite\ndangers which beset one's course.\n\n\nCALYPSO\n\nCalypso was a sea-nymph. One of that numerous class of female\ndivinities of lower rank than the gods, yet sharing many of their\nattributes.  Calypso received Ulysses hospitably, entertained him\nmagnificently, became enamored of him, and wished to retain him\nforever, conferring on him immortality.  But he persisted in his\nresolution to return to his country and his wife and son.\nCalypso at last received a command from Jove to dismiss him.\nMercury brought the message to her, and found her in her grotto,\nwhich is thus described by Homer:\n\n  \"A garden vine, luxuriant on all sides,\n  Mantled the spacious cavern, cluster-hung\n  Profuse; four fountains of serenest lymph,\n  Their sinuous course pursuing side by side,\n  Strayed all around, and every where appeared\n  Meadows of softest verdure purpled o'er\n  With violets; it was a scene to fill\n  A god from heaven with wonder and delight.\"\n\n\n\nCalypso with much reluctance proceeded to obey the commands of\nJupiter. She supplied Ulysses with the means of constructing a\nraft, provisioned it well for him, and gave him a favoring gale.\nHe sped on his course prosperously for many days, till at length,\nwhen in sight of land, a storm arose that broke his mast, and\nthreatened to rend the raft asunder.  In this crisis he was seen\nby a compassionate sea-nymph, who in the form of a cormorant\nalighted on the raft, and presented him a girdle, directing him\nto bind it beneath his breast, and if he should be compelled to\ntrust himself to the waves, it would buoy him up and enable him\nby swimming to reach the land.\n\nFenelon, in his romance of Telemachus, has given us the\nadventures of the son of Ulysses in search of his father.  Among\nother places at which he arrived, following on his father's\nfootsteps, was Calypso's isle, and, as in the former case, the\ngoddess tried every art to keep him with her, and offered to\nshare her immortality with him.  But Minerva, who, in the shape\nof Mentor, accompanied him and governed all his movements, made\nhim repel her allurements, and when no other means of escape\ncould be found, the two friends leaped from a cliff into the sea,\nand swam to a vessel which lay becalmed off shore.  Byron alludes\nto this leap of Telemachus and Mentor in the following stanza:\n\n  \"But not in silence pass Calypso's isles,\n  The sister tenants of the middle deep;\n  There for the weary still a haven smiles,\n  Though the fair goddess long has ceased to weep,\n  And o'er her cliffs a fruitless watch to keep\n  For him who dared prefer a mortal bride.\n  Here too his boy essayed the dreadful leap,\n  Stern Mentor urged from high to yonder tide;\n  While thus of both bereft the nymph-queen doubly sighed.\"\n\n\n\nChapter XXIII\n\nThe Odyssey (continued)\n\nTHE PHAEACIANS.  FATE OF THE SUITORS\n\nUlysses clung to the raft while any of its timbers kept together,\nand when it no longer yielded him support, binding the girdle\naround him, he swam.  Minerva smoothed the billows before him and\nsent him a wind that rolled the waves towards the shore.  The\nsurf beat high on the rocks and seemed to forbid approach; but at\nlength finding calm water at the mouth of a gentle stream, he\nlanded, spent with toil, breathless and speechless and almost\ndead.  After some time reviving, he kissed the soil, rejoicing,\nyet at a loss what course to take.  At a short distance he\nperceived a wood, to which he turned his steps.  There finding a\ncovert sheltered by intermingling branches alike from the sun and\nthe rain, he collected a pile of leaves and formed a bed, on\nwhich he stretched himself, and heaping the leaves over him, fell\nasleep.\n\nThe land where he was thrown was Scheria, the country of the\nPhaecians.  These people dwelt originally near the Cyclopes; but\nbeing oppressed by that savage race, they migrated to the isle of\nScheria, under the conduct of Nausithous their king.  They were,\nthe poet tells us, a people akin to the gods, who appeared\nmanifestly and feasted among them when they offered sacrifices,\nand did not conceal themselves from solitary wayfarers when they\nmet them.  They had abundance of wealth and lived in the\nenjoyment of it undisturbed by the alarms of war, for as they\ndwelt remote from gain-seeking man, no enemy ever approached\ntheir shores, and they did not even require to make use of bows\nand quivers.  Their chief employment was navigation.  Their\nships, which went with the velocity of birds, were endued with\nintelligence; they knew every port and needed no pilot.\nAlcinous, the son of Nausithous, was now their king, a wise and\njust sovereign, beloved by his people.\n\nNow it happened that the very night on which Ulysses was cast\nashore on the Phaeacian island, and while he lay sleeping on his\nbed of leaves, Nausicaa, the daughter of the king, had a dream\nsent by Minerva, reminding her that her wedding-day was not far\ndistant, and that it would be but a prudent preparation for that\nevent to have a general washing of the clothes of the family.\nThis was no slight affair, for the fountains were at some\ndistance and the garments must be carried thither.  On awaking,\nthe princess hastened to her parents to tell them what was on her\nmind; not alluding to her wedding-day, but finding other reasons\nequally good.  Her father readily assented and ordered the grooms\nto furnish forth a wagon for the purpose.  The clothes were put\ntherein, and the queen mother placed in the wagon, likewise an\nabundant supply of food and wine.  The princess took her seat and\nplied the lash, her attendant virgins following her on foot.\nArrived at the river side they turned out the mules to graze, and\nunloading the carriage, bore the garments down to the water, and\nworking with cheerfulness and alacrity soon dispatched their\nlabor.  Then having spread the garments on the shore to dry, and\nhaving themselves bathed, they sat down to enjoy their meal;\nafter which they rose and amused themselves with a game of ball,\nthe princess singing to them while they played.  But when they\nhad refolded the apparel and were about to resume their way to\nthe town, Minerva caused the ball thrown by the princess to fall\ninto the water, whereat they all screamed, and Ulysses awaked at\nthe sound.\n\nNow we must picture to ourselves Ulysses, a shipwrecked mariner,\nbut just escaped from the waves, and utterly destitute of\nclothing, awaking and discovering that only a few bushes were\ninterposed between him and a group of young maidens, whom, by\ntheir deportment and attire, he discovered to be not mere peasant\ngirls, but of a higher class.  Sadly needing help, how could he\nyet venture, naked as he was, to discover himself and make his\nwants known?  It certainly was a case worthy of the interposition\nof his patron goddess Minerva, who never failed him at a crisis.\nBreaking off a leafy branch from a tree, he held it before him\nand stepped out from the thicket.  The virgins, at sight of him,\nfled in all directions, Nausicaa alone excepted, for Minerva\naided and endowed her with courage and discernment.  Ulysses,\nstanding respectfully aloof, told his sad case, and besought the\nfair object (whether queen or goddess he professed he knew not)\nfor food and clothing.  The princess replied courteously,\npromising present relief and her father's hospitality when he\nshould become acquainted with the facts.  She called back her\nscattered maidens, chiding their alarm, and reminding them that\nthe Phaeacians had no enemies to fear.  This man, she told them,\nwas an unhappy wanderer, whom it was a duty to cherish, for the\npoor and stranger are from Jove.  She bade them bring food and\nclothing, for some of her brothers' garments were among the\ncontents of the wagon.  When this was done, and Ulysses, retiring\nto a sheltered place, had washed his body free from the sea-foam,\nclothed and refreshed himself with food, Pallas dilated his form\nand diffused grace over his ample chest and manly brows.\n\nThe princess, seeing him, was filled with admiration, and\nscrupled not to say to her damsels that she wished the gods would\nsend her such a husband.  To Ulysses she recommended that he\nshould repair to the city, following herself and train so far as\nthe way lay through the fields; but when they should approach the\ncity she desired that he would no longer be seen in her company,\nfor she feared the remarks which rude and vulgar people might\nmake on seeing her return accompanied by such a gallant stranger;\nto avoid which she directed him to stop at a grove adjoining the\ncity, in which were a farm and garden belonging to the king.\nAfter allowing time for the princess and her companions to reach\nthe city, he was then to pursue his way thither, and would be\neasily guided by any he might meet to the royal abode.\n\nUlysses obeyed the directions, and in due time proceeded to the\ncity, on approaching which he met a young woman bearing a pitcher\nforth for water.  It was Minerva, who had assumed that form.\nUlysses accosted her, and desired to be directed to the palace of\nAlcinous the king.  The maiden replied respectfully, offering to\nbe his guide; for the palace, she informed him, stood near her\nfather's dwelling.  Under the guidance of the goddess, and by her\npower enveloped in a cloud which shielded him from observation,\nUlysses passed among the busy crowd, and with wonder observed\ntheir harbor, their ships, their forum (the resort of heroes),\nand their battlements, till they came to the palace, where the\ngoddess, having first given him some information of the country,\nking, and people he was about to meet, left him.  Ulysses, before\nentering the courtyard of the palace, stood and surveyed the\nscene.  Its splendor astonished him.  Brazen walls stretched from\nthe entrance to the interior house, of which the doors were gold,\nthe door-posts silver, the lintels silver ornamented with gold.\nOn either side were figures of mastiffs wrought in gold and\nsilver, standing in rows as if to guard the approach.  Along the\nwalls were seats spread through all their length with mantles of\nfinest texture, the work of Phaeacian maidens.  On these seats\nthe princes sat and feasted, while golden statues of graceful\nyouths held in their hands lighted torches, which shed radiance\nover the scene.  Full fifty female menials served in household\noffices, some employed to grind the corn, others to wind off the\npurple wool or ply the loom.  For the Phaeacian women as far\nexceeded all other women in household arts as the mariners of\nthat country did the rest of mankind in the management of ships.\nWithout the court a spacious garden lay, in which grew many a\nlofty tree, pomegranate, pear, apple, fig, and olive.  Neither\nwinter's cold nor summer's drought arrested their growth, but\nthey flourished in constant succession, some budding while others\nwere maturing.  The vineyard was equally prolific.  In one\nquarter you might see the vines, some in blossom, some loaded\nwith ripe grapes, and in another observe the vintagers treading\nthe wine-press.  On the garden's borders flowers of every hue\nbloomed all the year round, arranged with neatest art.  In the\nmidst two fountains poured forth their waters, one flowing by\nartificial channels over all the garden, the other conducted\nthrough the courtyard of the palace, whence every citizen might\ndraw his supplies.\n\nUlysses stood gazing in admiration, unobserved himself, for the\ncloud which Minerva spread around him still shielded him.  At\nlength, having sufficiently observed the scene, he advanced with\nrapid step into the hall where the chiefs and senators were\nassembled, pouring libation to Mercury, whose worship followed\nthe evening meal.  Just then Minerva dissolved the cloud and\ndisclosed him to the assembled chiefs.  Advancing toward the\nqueen, he knelt at her feet and implored her favor and assistance\nto enable him to return to his native country.  Then withdrawing,\nhe seated himself in the manner of suppliants, at the hearth-\nside.\n\nFor a time none spoke.  At last an aged statesman, addressing the\nking, said, \"It is not fit that a stranger who asks our\nhospitality should be kept waiting in suppliant guise, none\nwelcoming him.  Let him therefore be led to a seat among us and\nsupplied with food and wine.\"  At these words the king rising\ngave his hand to Ulysses and led him to a seat, displacing thence\nhis own son to make room for the stranger.  Food and wine were\nset before him and he ate and refreshed himself.\n\nThe king then dismissed his guests, notifying them that the next\nday he would call them to council to consider what had best be\ndone for the stranger.\n\nWhen the guests had departed and Ulysses was left alone with the\nking and queen, the queen asked him who he was and whence he\ncame, and (recognizing the clothes which he wore as those which\nher maidens and herself had made) from whom he received his\ngarments.  He told them of his residence in Calypso's isle and\nhis departure thence; of the wreck of his raft, his escape by\nswimming, and of the relief afforded by the princess.  The\nparents heard approvingly, and the king promised to furnish him a\nship in which he might return to his own land.\n\nThe next day the assembled chiefs confirmed the promise of the\nking.  A bark was prepared and a crew of stout rowers selected,\nand all betook themselves to the palace, where a bounteous repast\nwas provided.  After the feast the king proposed that the young\nmen should show their guest their proficiency in manly sports,\nand all went forth to the arena for games of running, wrestling,\nand other exercises.  After all had done their best, Ulysses\nbeing challenged to show what he could do, at first declined, but\nbeing taunted by one of the youths, seized a quoit of weight far\nheavier than any the Phaeacians had thrown, and sent it farther\nthan the utmost throw of theirs.  All were astonished, and viewed\ntheir guest with greatly increased respect.\n\nAfter the games they returned to the hall, and the herald led in\nDemodocus, the blind bard,\n\n  \"Dear to the Muse,\n  Who yet appointed him both good and ill,\n  Took from him sight, but gave him strains divine.\"\n\nHe took for his theme the wooden horse, by means of which the\nGreeks found entrance into Troy.  Apollo inspired him, and he\nsang so feelingly of the terrors and the exploits of that\neventful time that all were delighted, but Ulysses was moved to\ntears.  Observing which, Alcinous, when the song was done,\ndemanded of him why at the mention of troy his sorrows awaked.\nHad he lost there a father or brother, or any dear friend?\nUlysses in reply announced himself by his true name, and at their\nrequest, recounted the adventures which had befallen him since\nhis departure from Troy.  This narrative raised the sympathy and\nadmiration of the Phaeacians for their guest to the highest\npitch.  The king proposed that each chief should present him with\na gift, himself setting the example.  They obeyed, and vied with\none another in loading the illustrious stranger with costly\ngifts.\n\nThe next day Ulysses set sail in the Phaeacian vessel, and in a\nshort time arrived safe at Ithaca, his own island.  When the\nvessel touched the strand he was asleep.  The mariners, without\nwaking him, carried him on shore, and landed with him the chest\ncontaining his presents, and then sailed away.\n\nBut Neptune was displeased at the conduct of the Phaeacians in\nthus rescuing Ulysses from his hands.  In revenge, on the return\nof the vessel to port, he transformed it into a rock, right\nopposite the mouth of the harbor.\n\nHomer's description of the ships of the Phaeacians has been\nthought to look like an anticipation of the wonders of modern\nsteam navigation.  Alcinous says to Ulysses,\n\n  \"Say from what city, from what regions tossed,\n  And what inhabitants those regions boast?\n  So shalt thou quickly reach the realm assigned,\n  In wondrous ships, self-moved, instinct with mind;\n  No helm secures their course, no pilot guides;\n  Like man intelligent they plough the tides,\n  Conscious of every coast and every bay\n  That lies beneath the sun's all-seeing ray.\"\n  Odyssey, Book VIII\n\nLord Carlisle, in his Diary in the Turkish and Greek Waters, thus\nspeaks of Corfu, which he considers to be the ancient Phaeacian\nisland:\n\n\"The sites explain the Odyssey.  The temple of the sea-god could\nnot have been more fitly placed, upon a grassy platform of the\nmost elastic turf, on the brow of a crag commanding harbor, and\nchannel, and ocean.  Just at the entrance of the inner harbor\nthere is a picturesque rock with a small convent perched atop it,\nwhich by one legend is the transformed pinnace of Ulysses.\n\n\"Almost the only river in the island is just at the proper\ndistance from the probable site of the city and palace of the\nking, to justify the princess Nausicaa having had resort to her\nchariot and to luncheon when she went with the maidens of the\ncourt to wash their garments.\"\n\n\nFATE OF THE SUITORS\n\nIt was now twenty years that Ulysses had been away from Ithaca,\nand when he awoke he did not recognize his native land.  But\nMinerva, appearing to him in the form of a young shepherd,\ninformed him where he was, and told him the state of things at\nhis palace.  More than a hundred nobles of Ithaca and of the\nneighboring islands had been for years suing for the hand of\nPenelope, his wife, imagining him dead, and lording it over his\npalace and people, as if they were owners of both.  That he might\nbe able to take vengeance upon them, it was important that he\nshould not be recognized.  Minerva accordingly metamorphosed him\ninto an unsightly beggar, and as such he was kindly received by\nEumaeus, the swine-herd, a faithful servant of his house.\n\nTelemachus, his son, was absent in quest of his father.  He had\ngone to the courts of the other kings, who had returned from the\nTrojan expedition.  While on the search, he received counsel from\nMinerva to return home.  Arriving at Ithaca, he sought Eumaeus to\nlearn something of the state of affairs at the palace before\npresenting himself among the suitors.  Finding a stranger with\nEumaeus, he treated him courteously, though in the garb of a\nbeggar, and promised him assistance.  Eumaeus was sent to the\npalace to inform Penelope privately of her son's arrival, for\ncaution was necessary with regard to the suitors, who, as\nTelemachus had learned, were plotting to intercept and kill him.\nWhen Eumaeus was gone, Minerva presented herself to Ulysses, and\ndirected him to make himself known to his son.  At the same time\nshe touched him, removed at once from him the appearance of age\nand penury, and gave him the aspect of vigorous manhood that\nbelonged to him.  Telemachus viewed him with astonishment, and at\nfirst thought he must be more than mortal.  But Ulysses announced\nhimself as his father, and accounted for the change of appearance\nby explaining that it was Minerva's doing.\n\n  \"Then threw Telemachus\n  His arms around his father's neck and wept,\n  Desire intense of lamentation seized\n  On both; soft murmurs uttering, each indulged\n  His grief.\"\n\nThe father and son took counsel together how they should get the\nbetter of the suitors and punish them for their outrages.  It was\narranged that Telemachus should proceed to the palace and mingle\nwith the suitors as formerly; that Ulysses should go also, as a\nbeggar, a character which in the rude old times had different\nprivileges from those we concede to it now.  As traveller and\nstory-teller, the beggar was admitted in the halls of chieftains,\nand often treated like a guest; though sometimes, also, no doubt,\nwith contumely.  Ulysses charged his son not to betray, by any\ndisplay of unusual interest in him, that he knew him to be other\nthan he seemed, and even if he saw him insulted, or beaten, not\nto interpose otherwise than he might do for any stranger.\n\nAt the palace they found the usual scene of feasting and riot\ngoing on.  The suitors pretended to receive Telemachus with joy\nat his return, though secretly mortified at the failure of their\nplots to take his life.  The old beggar was permitted to enter,\nand provided with a portion from the table.  A touching incident\noccurred as Ulysses entered the court-yard of the palace.  An old\ndog lay in the yard almost dead with age, and seeing a stranger\nenter, raised his head, with ears erect.  It was Argus, Ulysses'\nown dog, that he had in other days often led to the chase.\n\n  \"Soon he perceived\n  Long-lost Ulysses nigh, down fell his ears\n  Clapped close, and with his tail glad signs he gave\n  Of gratulation, impotent to rise,\n  And to approach his master as of old.\n  Ulysses, noting him, wiped off a tear\n  Unmarked.\n  . . .  Then his destiny released\n  Old Argus, soon as he had lived to see\n  Ulysses in the twentieth year restored.\"\n\nAs Ulysses sat eating his portion in the hall, the suitors soon\nbegan to exhibit their insolence to him.  When he mildly\nremonstrated, one of them raised a stool and with it gave him a\nblow.  Telemachus had hard work to restrain his indignation at\nseeing his father so treated in his own hall, but remembering his\nfather's injunctions, said no more than what became him as master\nof the house and protector of his guests.\n\nPenelope had protracted her decision in favor of any one of her\nsuitors so long, that there seemed to be no further pretence for\ndelay.  The continued absence of her husband seemed to prove that\nhis return was no longer to be expected.  Meanwhile her son had\ngrown up, and was able to manage his own affairs.  She therefore\nconsented to submit the question of her choice to a trial of\nskill among the suitors.  The test selected was shooting with the\nbow.  Twelve rings were arranged in a line, and he whose arrow\nwas sent through the whole twelve, was to have the queen for his\nprize.  A bow that one of his brother heroes had given to Ulysses\nin former times, was brought from the armory, and with its quiver\nfull of arrows was laid in the hall.  Telemachus had taken care\nthat all other weapons should be removed, under pretence that in\nthe heat of competition, there was danger, in some rash moment,\nof putting them to an improper use.\n\nAll things being prepared for the trial, the first thing to be\ndone was to bend the bow in order to attach the string.\nTelemachus endeavored to do it, but found all his efforts\nfruitless; and modestly confessing that he had attempted a task\nbeyond his strength, he yielded the bow to another.  HE tried it\nwith no better success, and, amidst the laughter and jeers of his\ncompanions, gave it up.  Another tried it and another; they\nrubbed the bow with tallow, but all to no purpose; it would not\nbend.  Then spoke Ulysses, humbly suggesting that he should be\npermitted to try; for, said he, \"beggar as I am, I was once a\nsoldier, and there is still some strength in these old limbs of\nmine.\"  The suitors hooted with derision, and commanded to turn\nhim out of the hall for his insolence.  But Telemachus spoke up\nfor him, and merely to gratify the old man, bade him try.\nUlysses took the bow, and handled it with the hand of a master.\nWith ease he adjusted the cord to its notch, then fitting an\narrow to the bow he drew the string and sped the arrow unerring\nthrough the rings.\n\nWithout allowing them time to express their astonishment, he\nsaid, \"Now for another mark!\" and aimed direct at the most\ninsolent one of the suitors. The arrow pierced through his throat\nand he fell dead.  Telemachus, Eumaeus, and another faithful\nfollower, well armed, now sprang to the side of Ulysses.  The\nsuitors, in amazement, looked round for arms but found none,\nneither was there any way of escape, for Eumaeus had secured the\ndoor.  Ulysses left them not long in uncertainty; he announced\nhimself as the long-lost chief, whose house they had invaded,\nwhose substance they had squandered, whose wife and son they had\npersecuted for ten long years; and told them he meant to have\nample vengeance.  All the suitors were slain, except Phemius the\nbard and Medon the herald, and Ulysses was left master of his own\npalace and possessor of his kingdom and his wife.\n\nAmong Schiller's works is the following epigram on Ulysses:\n\n  \"To gain his home all oceans he explored;\n  Here Scylla frowned, and there Charybdis roared;\n  Horror on sea, and horror on the land,\n  In hell's dark boat he sought the spectre land,\n  Till borne a slumberer to his native spot,\n  He woke, and sorrowing, knew his country not.\"\n  Sir Edward Bulwer\"s translation\n\nTennyson's poem of Ulysses represents the old hero, after his\ndangers past and nothing left but to stay at home and be happy,\ngrowing tired of inaction and resolving to set forth again in\nquest of new adventures.\n\n  \"Come my friends,\n  'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.\n  Push off, and sitting well in order smite\n  The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds\n  To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths\n  Of all the western stars, until I die.\n  It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;\n  It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,\n  And see the great Achilles whom we knew,\n  Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'\n  We are not now that strength which in old days\n  Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;\n  One equal temper of heroic hearts,\n  Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will\n  To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.\"\n\n\n\nChapter XXIV\n\nAdventures of AEneas   The Harpies   Dido   Palinurus\n\nWe have followed one of the Grecian heroes, Ulysses, in his\nwanderings, on his return home from Troy, and now we propose to\nshare the fortunes of the remnant of the conquered people, under\ntheir chief AEneas, in their search for a new home, after the\nruin of their native city.  On that fatal night when the wooden\nhorse disgorged its contents of armed men, and the capture and\nconflagration of the city were the result, Aeneas made his escape\nfrom the scene of destruction with his father, and his wife, and\nyoung son.  The father, Anchises, was woo old to walk with the\nspeed required, and AEneas took him upon his shoulders.  Thus\nburdened, leading his son and followed by his wife, he made the\nbest of his way out of the burning city; but in the confusion,\nhis wife was swept away and lost.\n\nOn arriving at the place of rendezvous, numerous fugitives, of\nboth sexes, were found, who put themselves under the guidance of\nAeneas.  Some months were spent in preparation and at length they\nembarked.  They first landed on the neighboring shores of Thrace,\nand were preparing to build a city, but AEneas was deterred by a\nprodigy.  Preparing to offer sacrifice, he tore some twigs from\none of the bushes.  To his dismay the wounded part dropped blood.\nWhen he repeated the act, a voice from the ground cried out to\nhim, \"Spare me, AEneas; I am your kinsman, Polydore, here\nmurdered with many arrows, from which a bush has grown, nourished\nwith my blood.\"  These words recalled to the recollection of\nAEneas that Polydore was a young prince of Troy, whom his father\nhad sent with ample treasures to the neighboring land of Thrace,\nto be there brought up, at a distance from the horrors of war.\nThe king to whom he was sent had murdered him, and seized his\ntreasures.  AEneas and his companions hastened away, considering\nthe land to be accursed by the stain of such a crime.\n\nThey next landed on the island of Delos, which was once a\nfloating island, till Jupiter fastened it by adamantine chains to\nthe bottom of the sea.  Apollo and Diana were born there, and the\nisland was sacred to Apollo.  Here AEneas consulted the oracle of\nApollo, and received an answer, as ambiguous as usual   \"Seek\nyour ancient mother; there the race of AEneas shall dwell, and\nreduce all other nations to their sway.\"  The Trojans heard with\njoy, and immediately began to ask one another, \"Where is the spot\nintended by the oracle?\"  Anchises remembered that there was a\ntradition that their forefathers came from Crete, and thither\nthey resolved to steer.  They arrived at Crete, and began to\nbuild their city, but sickness broke out among them, and the\nfields that they had planted failed to yield a crop.  In this\ngloomy aspect of affairs, AEneas was warned in a dream to leave\nthe country, and seek a western land, called Hesperia, whence\nDardanus, the true founder of the Trojan race, had originally\nmigrated.  To Hesperia, now called Italy, therefore, they\ndirected their future course, and not till after many adventures\nand the lapse of time sufficient to carry a modern navigator\nseveral times round the world, did they arrive there.\n\nTheir first landing was at the island of the Harpies:\n\n  \"----The daughters of the earth and sea,\n  The dreadful snatchers, who like women were\n  Down to the breast, with scanty coarse black hair\n  About their heads, and dim eyes ringed with red,\n  And bestial mouths set round with lips of lead,\n  But from their gnarled necks there began to spring\n  Half hair, half feathers, and a sweeping wing\n  Grew out instead of arm on either side,\n  And thick plumes underneath the breast did hide\n  The place where joined the fearful natures twain.\n  Gray-feathered were they else, with many a stain\n  Of blood thereon, and on birds' claws they went.\n  Morris: Life and Death of Jason\n\nThe Harpies had been sent by the gods to torment a certain\nPhineus, whom Jupiter had deprived of his sight in punishment of\nhis cruelty; and whenever a meal was placed before him, the\nHarpies darted down from the air and carried it off.  They were\ndriven away from Phineus by the heroes of the Argonautic\nexpedition, and took refuge in the island where AEneas now found\nthem.\n\nWhen they entered the port the Trojans saw herds of cattle\nroaming over the plain.  They slew as many as they wished, and\nprepared for a feast.  But no sooner had they seated themselves\nat the table, than a horrible clamor was heard in the air, and a\nflock of odious Harpies came rushing down upon them, seizing in\ntheir talons the meat from the dishes, and flying away with it.\nAEneas and his companions drew their swords and dealt vigorous\nblows among the monsters, but to no purpose, for they were so\nnimble it was almost impossible to hit them, and their feathers\nwere like armor impenetrable to steel.  One of them, perched on a\nneighboring cliff, screamed out, \"Is it thus, Trojans, you treat\nus innocent birds, first slaughter our cattle, and then make war\non ourselves?\"  She then predicted dire sufferings to them in\ntheir future course, and having vented her wrath flew away.  The\nTrojans made haste to leave the country, and next found\nthemselves coasting along the shore of Epirus.  Here they landed,\nand to their astonishment learned that certain Trojan exiles, who\nhad been carried there as prisoners, had become rulers of the\ncountry.  Andromache, the widow of Hector, became the wife of one\nof the victorious Grecian chiefs, to whom she bore a son.  Her\nhusband dying, she was left regent of the country, as guardian of\nher son, and had married a fellow-captive, Helenus, of the royal\nrace of Troy.  Helenus and Andromache treated the exiles with the\nutmost hospitality, and dismissed them loaded with gifts.\n\nFrom hence AEneas coasted along the shore of Sicily, and passed\nthe country of Cyclopes.  Here they were hailed from the shore by\na miserable object, whom by his garments, tattered as they were,\nthey perceived to be a Greek.  He told them he was one of\nUlysses' companions, left behind by that chief in his hurried\ndeparture.  He related the story of Ulysses' adventure with\nPolyphemus, and besought them to take him off with them, as he\nhad no means of sustaining his existence where he was, but wild\nberries and roots, and lived in constant fear of the Cyclopes.\nWhile he spoke Polyphemus made his appearance; a terrible\nmonster, shapeless, vast, whose only eye had been put out.  He\nwalked with cautious steps, feeling his way with a staff, down to\nthe sea-side, to wash his eye-socket in the waves.  When he\nreached the water, he waded out towards them, and his immense\nheight enabled him to advance far into the sea, so that the\nTrojans, in terror, took to their oars to get out of his way.\nHearing the oars, Polyphemus shouted after them, so that the\nshores resounded, and at the noise the other Cyclopes came forth\nfrom their caves and woods, and lined the shore, like a row of\nlofty pine trees.  The Trojans plied their oars, and soon left\nthem out of sight.\n\nAEneas had been cautioned by Helenus to avoid the strait guarded\nby the monsters Scylla and Charybdis.  There Ulysses, the reader\nwill remember, had lost six of his men, seized by Scylla, while\nthe navigators were wholly intent upon avoiding Charybdis.\nAEneas, following the advice of Helenus, shunned the dangerous\npass and coasted along the island of Sicily.\n\nJuno, seeing the Trojans speeding their way prosperously towards\ntheir destined shore, felt her old grudge against them revive,\nfor she could not forget the slight that Paris had put upon her,\nin awarding the prize of beauty to another.  In heavenly minds\ncan such resentments dwell!  Accordingly she hastened to AEolus,\nthe ruler of the winds,   the same who supplied Ulysses with\nfavoring gales, giving him the contrary ones tied up in a bag.\nAEolus obeyed the goddess and sent forth his sons, Boreas, Typhon\nand the other winds, to toss the ocean.  A terrible storm ensued,\nand the Trojan ships were driven out of their course towards the\ncoast of Africa.  They were in imminent danger of being wrecked,\nand were separated, so that AEneas thought that all were lost\nexcept his own.\n\nAt this crisis, Neptune, hearing the storm raging, and knowing\nthat he had given no orders for one, raised his head above the\nwaves, and saw the fleet of AEneas driving before the gale.\nKnowing the hostility of Juno, he was at no loss to account for\nit, but his anger was not the less at this interference in his\nprovince.  He called the winds, and dismissed them with a severe\nreprimand.  He then soothed the waves, and brushed away the\nclouds from before the face of the sun.  Some of the ships which\nhad got on the rocks he pried off with his own trident, while\nTriton and a sea-nymph, putting their shoulders under others, set\nthem afloat again.  The Trojans, when the sea became calm, sought\nthe nearest shore, which was the coast of Carthage, where AEneas\nwas so happy as to find that one by one the ships all arrived\nsafe, though badly shaken.\n\nWaller, in his Panegyric to the Lord Protector (Cromwell),\nalludes to this stilling of the storm by Neptune:\n\n  \"Above the waves, as Neptune showed his face,\n  To chide the winds and save the Trojan race,\n  So has your Highness, raised above the rest,\n  Storms of ambition tossing us repressed..\"\n\n\nDIDO\n\nCarthage, where the exiles had now arrived, was a spot on the\ncoast of Africa opposite Sicily, where at that time a Tyrian\ncolony under Dido their queen, were laying the foundations of a\nstate destined in later ages to be the rival of Rome itself.\nDido was the daughter of Belus, king of Tyre, and sister of\nPygmalion who succeeded his father on the throne.  Her husband\nwas Sichaeus, a man of immense wealth, but Pygmalion, who coveted\nhis treasures, caused him to be put to death.  Dido, with a\nnumerous body of followers, both men and women, succeeded in\neffecting their escape from Tyre in several vessels, carrying\nwith them the treasures of Sichaeus.  On arriving at the spot\nwhich they selected as the seat of their future home, they asked\nof the natives only so much land as they could enclose with a\nbull's hide.  When this was readily granted, she caused the hide\nto be cut into strips, and with them enclosed a spot on which she\nbuilt a citadel, and called it Byrsa (a hide).  Around this fort\nthe city of Carthage rose, and soon became a powerful and\nflourishing place.\n\nSuch was the state of affairs when AEneas with his Trojans\narrived there.  Dido received the illustrious exiles with\nfriendliness and hospitality.  \"Not unacquainted with distress,\"\nshe said, \"I have learned to succor the unfortunate.\"  The\nqueen's hospitality displayed itself in festivities at which\ngames of strength and skill were exhibited.  The strangers\ncontended for the palm with her own subjects on equal terms, the\nqueen declaring that whether the victor were \"Trojan or Tyrian\nshould make no difference to her.\"  At the feast which followed\nthe games, AEneas gave at her request a recital of the closing\nevents of the Trojan history and his own adventures after the\nfall of the city.  Dido was charmed with his discourse and filled\nwith admiration of his exploits.  She conceived an ardent passion\nfor him, and he for his part seemed well content to accept the\nfortunate chance which appeared to offer him at once a happy\ntermination of his wanderings, a home, a kingdom, and a bride.\nMonths rolled away in the enjoyment of pleasant intercourse, and\nit seemed as if Italy and the empire destined to be founded on\nits shores were alike forgotten.  Seeing which, Jupiter\ndispatched Mercury with a message to AEneas recalling him to a\nsense of his high destiny, and commanding him to resume his\nvoyage.\n\nAEneas, under this divine command, parted from Dido, though she\ntried every allurement and persuasion to detain him.  The blow to\nher affection and her pride was too much for her to endure, and\nwhen she found that he was gone, she mounted a funeral-pile which\nshe had caused to be prepared, and, having stabbed herself, was\nconsumed with the pile.  The flames rising over the city were\nseen by the departing Trojans, and, though the cause was unknown,\ngave to AEneas some intimation of the fatal event.\n\nWe find in \"Elegant Extracts\" the following epigram:\n\n  From the Latin\n\n  \"Unhappy, Dido, was thy fate\n  In first and second married state!\n  One husband caused thy flight by dying,\n  Thy death the other caused by flying.\"\n\nDr. Johnson was once challenged to make an epigram on the\nsyllables di,do,dum.  He immediately replied in these lines:\n\n  \"When Dido found Aeneas would not come,\n  She wept in silence, and was Dido dumb.\n\n\nPALINURUS\n\nAfter touching at the island of Sicily, where Acestes, a prince\nof Trojan lineage, bore sway, who gave them a hospitable\nreception, the Trojans re-embarked, and held on their course for\nItaly.  Venus now interceded with Neptune to allow her son at\nlast to attain the wished-for goal, and find an end of his perils\non the deep.  Neptune consented, stipulating only for one life as\na ransom for the rest.  The victim was Palinurus, the pilot.  As\nhe sat watching the stars, with his hand on the helm, Somnus,\nsent by Neptune, approached in the guise of Phorbas and said,\n\"Palinurus, the breeze is fair, the water smooth, and the ship\nsails steadily on her course.  Lie down a while and take needful\nrest.  I will stand at the helm in your place.\"  Palinurus\nreplied, \"Tell me not of smooth seas or favoring winds,   me who\nhave seen so much of their treachery.  Shall I trust AEneas to\nthe chances of the weather and winds?\"  And he continued to grasp\nthe helm and to keep his eyes fixed on the stars.  But Somnus\nwaved over him a branch moistened with Lethaean dew, and his eyes\nclosed in spite of all his efforts.  Then Somnus pushed him\noverboard and he fell; but keeping his hold upon the helm it came\naway with him.  Neptune was mindful of his promise, and kept the\nship on her track without helm or pilot, till Aeneas discovered\nhis loss, and, sorrowing deeply for his faithful steersman, took\ncharge of the ship himself.\n\nThere is a beautiful allusion to the story of Palinurus in\nScott's Marmion, Introduction to Canto I., where the poet,\nspeaking of the recent death of William Pitt, says:\n\n  \"Oh, think how, to his latest day,\n  When death just hovering claimed his prey,\n  With Palinure's unaltered mood,\n  Firm at his dangerous post he stood;\n  Each call for needful rest repelled,\n  With dying hand the rudder held,\n  Till in his fall, with fateful sway,\n  The steerage of the realm gave way.\"\n\nThe ships at last reached the shores of Italy, and joyfully did\nthe adventurers leap to land.  While his people were employed in\nmaking their encampment AEneas sought the abode of the Sibyl.  It\nwas a cave connected with a temple and grove, sacred to Apollo\nand Diana.  While Aeneas contemplated the scene, the Sibyl\naccosted him.  She seemed to know his errand, and under the\ninfluence of the deity of the place burst forth in a prophetic\nstrain, giving dark intimations of labors and perils through\nwhich he was destined to make his way to final success.  She\nclosed with the encouraging words which have become proverbial:\n\"Yield not to disasters, but press onward the more bravely.\"\nAEneas replied that he had prepared himself for whatever might\nawait him.  He had but one request to make.  Having been directed\nin a dream to seek the abode of the dead in order to confer with\nhis father Anchises to receive from him a revelation of his\nfuture fortunes and those of his race, he asked her assistance to\nenable him to accomplish the task.  The Sibyl replied, \"The\ndescent to Avernus is easy; the gate of Pluto stands open night\nand day; but to retrace one's steps and return to the upper air,\nthat is the toil, that the difficulty.  She instructed him to\nseek in the forest a tree on which grew a golden branch.  This\nbranch was to be plucked off, to be borne as a gift to\nProserpine, and if fate was propitious, it would yield to the\nhand and quit its parent trunk, but otherwise no force could rend\nit away.  If torn away, another would succeed.\n\nAEneas followed the directions of the Sibyl.  His mother Venus\nsent two of her doves to fly before him and show him the way, and\nby their assistance he found the tree, plucked the branch, and\nhastened back with it to the Sibyl.\n\n\n\nChapter XXV\n\nThe Infernal Regions   The Sibyl\n\nAt the commencement of our series we have given the pagan account\nof the creation of the world, so as we approach its conclusion,\nwe present a view of the regions of the dead, depicted by one of\ntheir most enlightened poets, who drew his doctrines from their\nmost esteemed philosophers.  The region where Virgil places the\nentrance into this abode, is perhaps the most strikingly adapted\nto excite ideas of the terrific and preternatural of any on the\nface of the earth.  It is the volcanic region near Vesuvius,\nwhere the whole country is cleft with chasms from which\nsulphurous flames arise, while the ground is shaken with pent-up\nvapors, and mysterious sounds issue from the bowels of the earth.\nThe lake Avernus is supposed to fill the crater of an extinct\nvolcano.  It is circular, half a mile wide, and very deep,\nsurrounded by high banks, which in Virgil's time were covered\nwith a gloomy forest.  Mephitic vapors rise from its waters, so\nthat no life is found on its banks, and no birds fly over it.\nHere, according to the poet, was the cave which afforded access\nto the infernal regions, and here AEneas offered sacrifices to\nthe infernal deities, Proserpine, Hecate, and the Furies.  Then a\nroaring was heard in the earth, the woods on the hill-tops were\nshaken, and the howling of dogs announced the approach of the\ndeities.  \"Now,\" said the Sibyl, \"summon up your courage, for you\nwill need it.\"  She descended into the cave, and AEneas followed.\nBefore the threshold of Hades they passed through a group of\nbeings who are Griefs and avenging Cares, pale Diseases and\nmelancholy Age, Fear and Hunger that tempt to crime, Toil,\nPoverty, and Death, forms horrible to view.  The Furies spread\ntheir couches there, and Discord, whose hair was of vipers tied\nup with a bloody fillet.  Here also were the monsters, Briareus\nwith his hundred arms, Hydras hissing, and Chimaeras breathing\nfire.  AEneas shuddered at the sight, drew his sword and would\nhave struck, had not the Sibyl restrained him.  They then came to\nthe black river Cocytus, where they found the ferryman, Charon,\nold and squalid, but strong and vigorous, who was receiving\npassengers of all kinds into his boat, high-souled heroes, boys\nand unmarried girls as numerous as the leaves that fall at\nautumn, or the flocks that fly southward at the approach of\nwinter.  They stood pressing for a passage, and longing to touch\nthe opposite shore.  But the stern ferryman took in only such as\nhe chose, driving the rest back.  AEneas, wondering at the sight,\nasked the Sibyl, \"Why this discrimination?: She answered, \"Those\nwho are taken on board the bark are the souls of those who have\nreceived due burial rites; the host of others who have remained\nunburied, are not permitted to pass the flood, but wander a\nhundred years, and flit to and fro about the shore, till at last\nthey are taken over.\"  AEneas grieved at recollecting some of his\nown companions who had perished in the storm.  At that moment he\nbeheld Palinurus, his pilot, who fell overboard and was drowned.\nHe addressed him and asked him the cause of his misfortune.\nPalinurus replied that the rudder was carried away, and he,\nclinging to it, was swept away with it.  He besought Aeneas most\nurgently to extend to him his hand and take him in company to the\nopposite shore.  But the Sibyl rebuked him for the wish thus to\ntransgress the laws of Pluto, but consoled him by informing him\nthat the people of the shore where his body had been wafted by\nthe waves, should be stirred up by the prodigies to give it the\nburial, and that the promontory should bear the name of Cape\nPalinurus, which it does to this day.  Leaving Palinurus consoled\nby these words, they approached the boat.  Charon, fixing his\neyes sternly upon the advancing warrior, demanded by what right\nhe, living and armed, approached the shore.  To which the Sibyl\nreplied that they would commit no violence, that AEneas's only\nobject was to see his father, and finally exhibited the golden\nbranch, at sight of which Charon's wrath relaxed, and he made\nhaste to turn his back to the shore, and receive them on board.\nThe boat, adapted only to the light freight of bodiless spirits,\ngroaned under the weight of the hero.  They were soon conveyed to\nthe opposite shore.  There they were encountered by the three-\nheaded dog Cerberus, with his necks bristling with snakes.  He\nbarked with all his three throats till the Sibyl threw him a\nmedicated cake, which he eagerly devoured, and then stretched\nhimself out in his den and fell asleep.  AEneas and the Sibyl\nsprang to land.  The first sound that struck their ears was the\nwailing of young children, who had died on the threshold of life,\nand near to these were they who had perished under false charges.\nMinos presides over them as judge, and examines the deeds of\neach.  The next class was of those who had died by their own\nhand, hating life and seeking refuge in death.  Oh, how willingly\nwould they now endure poverty, labor, and any other infliction,\nif they might but return to life!  Next were situated the regions\nof sadness, divided off into retired paths, leading through\ngroves of myrtle.  Here roamed those who had fallen victims to\nunrequited love, not freed from pain even by death itself.  Among\nthese, AEneas thought he descried the form of Dido, with a wound\nstill recent.  In the dim light he was for a moment uncertain,\nbut approaching perceived it was indeed herself.  Tears fell from\nhis eyes, and he addressed her in the  accents of love.  \"Unhappy\nDido!  Was then the rumor true that you had perished?  And was I,\nalas! the cause!  I call the gods to witness that my departure\nfrom you was reluctant, and in obedience to the commands of Jove;\nnor could I believe that my absence would have cost you so dear.\nStop, I beseech you, and refuse me not a last farewell.\"  She\nstood for a moment with averted countenance, and eyes fixed on\nthe ground, and then silently passed on, as insensible to his\npleadings as a rock.  AEneas followed for some distance; then,\nwith a heavy heart, rejoined his companion and resumed his route.\n\nThey next entered the fields where roam the heroes who have\nfallen in battle.  Here they saw many shades of Grecian and\nTrojan warriors.  The Trojans thronged around him, and could not\nbe satisfied with the sight.  They asked the cause of his coming,\nand plied him with innumerable questions.  But the Greeks, at the\nsight of his armor glittering through the murky atmosphere,\nrecognized the hero, and filled with terror turned their backs\nand fled, as they used to flee on the plains of Troy.\n\nAEneas would have lingered long with his Trojan friends but the\nSibyl hurried him away.  They next came to a place where the road\ndivided, the one leading to Elysium, the other to the regions of\nthe condemned.  AEneas beheld on one side the walls of a mighty\ncity, around which Phlegethon rolled its fiery waters.  Before\nhim was the gate of adamant that neither gods nor men can break\nthrough.  An iron tower stood by the gate, on which Tisiphone,\nthe avenging Fury, kept guard.  From the city were heard groans,\nand the sound of the scourge, the creaking of iron, and the\nclanking of chains.  AEneas, horror-struck, inquired of his guide\nwhat crimes were those whose punishments produced the sounds he\nhear?   The Sibyl answered, \"Here is the judgment-hall of\nRhadamanthus, who brings to light crimes done in life, which the\nperpetrator vainly thought impenetrably hid.  Tisiphone applies\nher whip of scorpions, and delivers the offender over to her\nsister Furies.  At this moment with horrid clang the brazen gates\nunfolded, and AEneas saw within, a Hydra with fifty heads,\nguarding the entrance.  The Sibyl told him that the Gulf of\nTartarus descended deep, so that its recesses were as far beneath\ntheir feet as heaven was high above their heads.  In the bottom\nof this pit, the Titan race, who warred against the gods, lie\nprostrate; Salmoneus, also, who presumed to vie with Jupiter, and\nbuilt a bridge of brass over which he drove his chariot that the\nsound might resemble thunder, launching flaming brands at his\npeople in imitation of lightning, till Jupiter struck him with a\nreal thunderbolt, and taught him the difference between mortal\nweapons and divine.  Here, also, is Tityus, the giant, whose form\nis so immense that as he lies, he stretches over nine acres,\nwhile a vulture preys upon his liver, which as fast as it is\ndevoured grows again, so that his punishment will have no end.\n\nAEneas saw groups seated at tables loaded with dainties, while\nnear by stood a Fury who snatched away the viands from their\nlips, as fast as they prepared to taste them.  Others beheld\nsuspended over their heads huge rocks, threatening to fall,\nkeeping them in a state of constant alarm.  These were they who\nhad hated their brothers, or struck their parents, or defrauded\nthe friends who trusted them, or who having grown rich, kept\ntheir money to themselves, and gave no share to others; the last\nbeing the most numerous class.  Here also were those who had\nviolated the marriage vow, or fought in a bad cause, or failed in\nfidelity to their employers.  Here was one who had sold his\ncountry for gold, another who perverted the laws, making them say\none thing today and another tomorrow.\n\nIxion was there fastened to the circumference of a wheel\nceaselessly revolving; and Sisyphus, whose task was to roll a\nhuge stone up to a hill-top, but when the steep was well-nigh\ngained, the rock, repulsed by some sudden force, rushed again\nheadlong down to the plain.  Again he toiled at it, while the\nsweat bathed all his weary limbs, but all to no effect.  There\nwas Tantalus, who stood in a pool, his chin level with the water,\nyet he was parched with thirst, and found nothing to assuage it;\nfor when he bowed his hoary head, eager to quaff, the water fled\naway, leaving the ground at his feet all dry.  Tall trees laden\nwith fruit stooped their heads to him, pears, pomegranates,\napples and luscious figs; but when with a sudden grasp he tried\nto seize them, winds whirled them high above his reach.\n\nThe Sibyl now warned AEneas that it was time to turn from these\nmelancholy regions and seek the city of the blessed. They passed\nthrough a middle tract of darkness, and came upon the Elysian\nfields, the groves where the happy reside.  They breathed a freer\nair, and saw all objects clothed in a purple light.  The region\nhas a sun and stars of its own.  The inhabitants were enjoying\nthemselves in various ways, some in sports on the grassy turf, in\ngames of strength or skill, others dancing or singing.  Orpheus\nstruck the chords of his lyre, and called forth ravishing sounds.\nHere AEneas saw the founders of the Trojan state, high-souled\nheroes who lived in happier times.  He gazed with admiration on\nthe war-chariots and glittering arms now reposing in disuse.\nSpears stood fixed in the ground, and the horses, unharnessed,\nroamed over the plain.  The same pride in splendid armor and\ngenerous steeds which the old heroes felt in life, accompanied\nthem here.  He saw another group feasting, and listening to the\nstrains of music.  They were in a laurel grove, whence the great\nriver Po has its origin, and flows out among men.  Here dwelt\nthose who fell by wounds received in their country's cause, holy\npriests, also, and poets who have uttered thoughts worthy of\nApollo, and others who have contributed to cheer and adorn life\nby their discoveries in the useful arts, and have made their\nmemory blessed by rendering service to mankind.  They wore snow-\nwhite fillets about their brows.  The Sibyl addressed a group of\nthese, and inquired where Anchises was to be found.  They were\ndirected where to seek him, and soon found him in a verdant\nvalley, where he was contemplating the ranks of his posterity,\ntheir destinies and worthy deeds to be achieved in coming times.\nWhen he recognized AEneas approaching, he stretched out both\nhands to him, while tears flowed freely.  \"Have you come at\nlast,\" said he, \"long expected and do I behold you after such\nperils past?  O my son, how have I trembled for you as I have\nwatched your career!\"  To which AEneas replied, O father!  Your\nimage was always before me to guide and guard me.  Then he\nendeavored to enfold his father in his embrace, but his arms\nenclosed only an unsubstantial image.\n\nAEneas perceived before him a spacious valley, with trees gently\nwaving to the wind, a tranquil landscape, through which the river\nLethe flowed.  Along the banks of the stream wandered a countless\nmultitude, numerous as insects in the summer air.  AEneas, with\nsurprise, inquired who were these.  Anchises answered, \"They are\nsouls to which bodies are to be given in due time.  Meanwhile\nthey dwell on Lethe's bank, and drink oblivion of their former\nlives.\"  \"Oh, father!\" said AEneas, \"is it possible that any can\nbe so in love with life, as to wish to leave these tranquil seats\nfor the upper world?\"  Anchises replied by explaining the plan of\ncreation.  The Creator, he told him, originally made the material\nof which souls are composed, of the four elements, fire, air,\nearth, and water, all which, when united, took the form of the\nmost excellent part, fire, and became FLAME.  This material was\nscattered like seed among the heavenly bodies, the sun, moon, and\nstars.  Of this seed the inferior gods created man and all other\nanimals, mingling it with various proportions of earth, by which\nits purity was alloyed and reduced.  Thus the more earth\npredominates in the composition, the less pure is the individual;\nand we see men and women with their full-grown bodies have not\nthe purity of childhood.  So in proportion to the time which the\nunion of body and soul has lasted, is the impurity contracted by\nthe spiritual part.  This impurity must be purged away after\ndeath, which is done by ventilating the souls in the current of\nwinds, or merging them in water, or burning out their impurities\nby fire.  Some few, of whom Anchises intimates that he is one,\nare admitted at once to Elysium, there to remain.  But the rest,\nafter the impurities of earth are purged away, are sent back to\nlife endowed with new bodies, having had the remembrance of their\nformer lives effectually washed away by the waters of Lethe.\nSome, however, there still are, so thoroughly corrupted, that\nthey are not fit to be entrusted with human bodies, and these are\nmade into brute animals, lions, tigers, cats, dogs, monkeys, etc.\nThis is what the ancients called Metempsychosis, or the\ntransmigration of souls; a doctrine which is still held by the\nnatives of India, who scruple to destroy the life, even of the\nmost insignificant animal, not knowing but it may be one of their\nrelations in an altered form.\n\nAnchises, having explained so much, proceeded to point out to\nAEneas individuals of his race, who were hereafter to be born,\nand to relate to him the exploits they should perform in the\nworld.  After this he reverted to the present, and told his son\nof the events that remained to him to be accomplished before the\ncomplete establishment of himself and his followers in Italy.\nWars were to be waged, battles fought, a bride to be won, and in\nthe result a Trojan state founded, from which should rise the\nRoman power, to be in time the sovereign of the world.\n\nAEneas and the Sybil then took leave of Anchises, and returned by\nsome short cut, which the poet does not explain, to the upper\nworld.\n\nThe Egyptian name of Hades was Amenti.  In the Revision of the\nScriptures the Revising Commission has substituted the word Hades\nwhere \"hell\" was used in the version of King James.\n\n\nELYSIUM\n\nVirgil, we have seen, places his Elysium under the earth, and\nassigns it for a residence to the spirits of the blessed.  But in\nHomer Elysium forms no part of the realms of the dead.  He places\nit on the west of the earth, near Ocean, and described it as a\nhappy land, where there is neither snow, nor cold, nor rain, and\nalways fanned by the delightful breezes of Zephyrus.  Hither\nfavored heroes pass without dying, and live happy under the rule\nof Rhadamanthus.  The Elysium of Hesiod and Pindar is in the\nIsles of the Blessed, or Fortunate Islands, in the Western Ocean.\nFrom these sprang the legend of the happy island Atlantis.  This\nblissful region may have been wholly imaginary, but possibly may\nhave sprung from the reports of some storm-driven mariners who\nhad caught a glimpse of the coast of America.\n\nJames Russell Lowell, in one of his shorter poems, claims for the\npresent age some of the privileges of that happy realm.\nAddressing the Past, he says,\n\n  \"Whatever of true life there was in thee,\n  Leaps in our age's veins.\n  .   .   .   .   .   .\n  \"Here, 'mid the bleak waves of our strife and care,\n  Float the green 'Fortunate Isles,'\n  Where all thy hero-spirits dwell and share\n  Our martyrdoms and toils.\n  The present moves attended\n  With all of brave and excellent and fair\n  That made the old time splendid.\"\n\nMilton alludes to the same fable in Paradise Lost, Book III.,\n1.568.\n\n  \"Like those Hesperian gardens famed of old,\n  Fortunate fields and groves and flowery vales,\n  Thrice happy isles.\"\n\nAnd in Book II. he characterizes the rivers of Erebus according\nto the meaning of their names in the Greek language:\n\n  \"Abhorred Styx, the flood of deadly hate,\n  Sad Acheron of sorrow black and deep;\n  Cocytus named of lamentation loud\n  Heard on the rueful stream; fierce Phlegethon\n  Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage.\n  Far off from these a slow and silent stream.\n  Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls\n  Her watery labyrinth, whereof who drinks\n  Forthwith his former state and being forgets,\n  Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain.\"\n\n\nTHE SIBYL\n\nAs AEneas and the Sibyl pursued their way back to earth, he said\nto her, \"Whether thou be a goddess or a mortal beloved by the\ngods, by me thou shalt always be held in reverence.  When I reach\nthe upper air, I will cause a temple to be built to thy honor,\nand will myself bring offerings.\"  \"I am no goddess,\" said the\nSibyl; \"I have no claim to sacrifice or offering.  I am mortal;\nyet if I could have accepted the love of Apollo, I might have\nbeen immortal.  He promised me the fulfilment of my wish, if I\nwould consent to be his.  I took a handful of sand, and holding\nit forth, said, 'Grant me to see as many birthdays as there are\nsand-grains in my hand.'  Unluckily I forgot to ask for enduring\nyouth.  This also he would have granted, could I have accepted\nhis love, but offended at my refusal, he allowed me to grow old.\nMy youth and youthful strength fled long ago.  I have lived seven\nhundred years, and to equal the number of the sand-grains, I have\nstill to see three hundred springs and three hundred harvests.\nMy body shrinks up as years increase, and in time, I shall be\nlost to sight, but my voice will remain, and future ages will\nrespect my sayings.\"\n\nThese concluding words of the Sibyl alluded to her prophetic\npower.  In her cave she was accustomed to inscribe on leaves\ngathered from the trees the names and fates of individuals.  The\nleaves thus inscribed were arranged in order within the cave, and\nmight be consulted by her votaries.  But if perchance at the\nopening of the door the wind rushed in and dispersed the leaves,\nthe Sibyl gave no aid to restoring them again, and the oracle was\nirreparably lost.\n\nThe following legend of the Sibyl is fixed at a later date.  In\nthe reign of one of the Tarquins there appeared before the king a\nwoman who offered him nine books for sale.  The king refused to\npurchase them, whereupon the woman went away and burned three of\nthe books, and returning offered the remaining books for the same\nprice she had asked for the nine.  The king again rejected them;\nbut when the woman, after burning three books more, returned and\nasked for the three remaining the same price which she had before\nasked for the nine, his curiosity was excited, and he purchased\nthe books.  They were found to contain the destinies of the Roman\nstate.  They were kept in the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus,\npreserved in a stone chest, and allowed to be inspected only by\nespecial officers appointed for that duty, who on great occasions\nconsulted them and interpreted their oracles to the people.\n\nThere were various Sibyls; but the Cumaean Sibyl, of whom Ovid\nand Virgil write, is the most celebrated of them.  Ovid's story\nof her life protracted to one thousand years may be intended to\nrepresent the various Sibyls as being only reappearances of one\nand the same individual.\n\nIt is now believed that some of the most distinguished Sibyls\ntook the inspiration of their oracles from the Jewish scripture.\nReaders interested in this subject will consult, \"Judaism,\" by\nProf. F. Huidekoper.\n\nYoung, in the Night Thoughts, alludes to the Sibyl.  Speaking of\nworldly Wisdom, he says:\n\n  \"If future fate she plans 'tis all in leaves,\n  Like Sibyl, unsubstantial, fleeting bliss;\n  At the first blast it vanishes in air.\n       .   .   .   .   .\n  As worldly schemes resemble Sibyl's leaves,\n  The good man's days to Sibyl's books compare,\n  The price still rising as in number less.\"\n\n\n\nChapter XXVI\n\nCamilla   Evander   Nisus and Euryalus   Mezentius   Turnus\n\nAEneas, having parted from the Sibyl and rejoined his fleet,\ncoasted along the shores of Italy and cast anchor in the mouth of\nthe Tiber.  The poet Virgil, having brought his hero to this\nspot, the destined termination of his wanderings, invokes his\nMuse to tell him the situation of things at that eventful moment.\nLatinus, third in descent from Saturn, ruled the country.  He was\nnow old and had no male descendant, but had one charming\ndaughter, Lavinia, who was sought in marriage by many neighboring\nchiefs, one of whom, Turnus, king of the Rutulians, was favored\nby the wishes of her parents.  But Latinus had been warned in a\ndream by his father Faunus, that the destined husband of Lavinia\nshould come from a foreign land.  From that union should spring a\nrace destined to subdue the world.\n\nOur readers will remember that in the conflict with the Harpies,\none of those half-human birds had threatened the Trojans with\ndire sufferings.  In particular she predicted that before their\nwanderings ceased they should be pressed by hunger to devour\ntheir tables.  This portent now came true; for as they took their\nscanty meal, seated on the grass, the men placed their hard\nbiscuit on their laps, and put thereon whatever their gleanings\nin the woods supplied.  Having dispatched the latter they\nfinished by eating the crusts.  Seeing which, the boy Iulus said\nplayfully, \"See, we are eating our tables.\"  AEneas caught the\nwords and accepted the omen.  \"All hail, promised land!\" he\nexclaimed, \"this is our home, this our country!\"  He then took\nmeasures to find out who were the present inhabitants of the\nland, and who their rulers.  A hundred chosen men were sent to\nthe village of Latinus, bearing presents and a request for\nfriendship and alliance.  They went and were favorably received.\nLatinus immediately concluded that the Trojan hero was no other\nthan the promised son-in-law announced by the oracle.  He\ncheerfully granted his alliance and sent back the messengers\nmounted on steeds from his stables, and loaded with gifts and\nfriendly messages.\n\nJuno, seeing things go thus prosperously for the Trojans, felt\nher old animosity revive, summoned the Fury Alecto from Erebus,\nand sent her to stir up discord.  The Fury first took possession\nof the queen, Amata, and roused her to oppose in every way the\nnew alliance.  Alecto then sped to the city of Turnus, and\nassuming the form of an old priestess, informed him of the\narrival of the foreigners and of the attempts of their prince to\nrob him of his bride.  Next she turned her attention to the camp\nof the Trojans.  There she saw the boy Iulus and his companions\namusing themselves with hunting.  She sharpened the scent of the\ndogs, and led them to rouse up from the thicket a tame stag, the\nfavorite of Silvia, the daughter of Tyrrheus, the king's\nherdsman.  A javelin from the hand of Iulus wounded the animal,\nand he had only strength left to run homewards, and died at his\nmistress' feet.  Her cries and tears roused her brothers and the\nherdsmen, and they, seizing whatever weapons came to hand,\nfuriously assaulted the hunting party.  These were protected by\ntheir friends, and the herdsmen were finally driven back with the\nloss of two of their number.\n\nThese things were enough to rouse the storm of war, and the\nqueen, Turnus, and the peasants, all urged the old king to drive\nthe strangers from the country.  He resisted as long as he could,\nbut finding his opposition unavailing, finally gave way and\nretreated to his retirement.\n\n\nOPENING THE GATES OF JANUS\n\nIt was the custom of the country, when war was to be undertaken,\nfor the chief magistrate, clad in his robes of office, with\nsolemn pomp to open the gates of the temple of Janus, which were\nkept shut as long as peace endured.  His people now urged the old\nking to perform that solemn office, but he refused to do so.\nWhile they contested, Juno herself, descending from the skies,\nsmote the doors with irresistible force and burst them open.\nImmediately the whole country was in a flame.  The people rushed\nfrom every side breathing nothing but war.\n\nTurnus was recognized by all as leader; others joined as allies,\nchief of whom was Mezentius, a brave and able soldier, but of\ndetestable cruelty.  He had been the chief of one of the\nneighboring cities, but his people drove him out.  With him was\njoined his son Lausus, a generous youth worthy of a better sire.\n\n\nCAMILLA\n\nCamilla, the favorite of Diana, a huntress and warrior, after the\nfashion of the Amazons, came with her band of mounted followers,\nincluding a select number of her own sex, and ranged herself on\nthe side of Turnus.  This maiden had never accustomed her fingers\nto the distaff or the loom, but had learned to endure the toils\nof war, and in speed to outstrip the wind.  It seemed as if she\nmight run over the standing corn without crushing it, or over the\nsurface of the water without dipping her feet.  Camilla's history\nhad been singular from the beginning.  Her father, Metabus,\ndriven from his city by civil discord, carried with him in his\nflight his infant daughter.  As he fled through the woods, his\nenemies in hot pursuit, he reached the bank of the river\nAmazenus, which, swelled by rains, seemed to debar a passage.  He\npaused for a moment, then decided what to do.  He tied the infant\nto his lance with wrappers of bark, and, poising the weapon in\nhis upraised hand, thus addressed Diana: \"Goddess of the woods!\nI consecrate this maid to you;\" then hurled the weapon with its\nburden to the opposite bank.  The spear flew across the roaring\nwater.  His pursuers were already upon him, but he plunged into\nthe river and swam across, and found the spear with the infant\nsafe on the other side.  Thenceforth he lived among the\nshepherds, and brought up his daughter in woodland arts.  While a\nchild she was taught to use the bow and throw the javelin.  With\nher sling she could bring down the crane or the wild swan.  Her\ndress was a tiger's skin.  Many mothers sought her for a\ndaughter-in-law, but she continued faithful to Diana,  and\nrepelled the thought of marriage.\n\nThere is an allusion to Camilla in those well-known lines of\nPope, in which, illustrating the rule that \"the sound should be\nan echo to the sense,\" he says,\n\n  \"When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw,\n  The line too labors and the words move slow.\n  Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain,\n  Flies o'er th'unbendng corn or skims along the main.\"\n  Essay on Criticism\n\n\nEVANDER\n\nSuch were the formidable allies that ranged themselves against\nAEneas.  It was night, and he lay stretched in sleep on the bank\nof the river, under the open heavens.  The god of the stream,\nFather Tiber, seemed to raise his head above the willows, and to\nsay, \"O goddess-born, destined possessor of the Latin realms,\nthis is the promised land, here is to be your home, here shall\nterminate the hostility of the heavenly powers, if only you\nfaithfully persevere.  There are friends not far distant.\nPrepare your boats and row up my stream; I will lead you to\nEvander the Arcadian chief.  He has long been at strife with\nTurnus and the Rutulians, and is prepared to become an ally of\nyours.  Rise!  Offer your vows to Juno, and deprecate her anger.\nWhen you have achieved your victory then think of me.\"  AEneas\nwoke and paid immediate obedience to the friendly vision.  He\nsacrificed to Juno, and invoked the god of the river and all its\ntributary fountains to lend their aid.  Then, for the first time,\na vessel filled with armed warriors floated on the stream of the\nTiber.  The river smoothed its waves and bade its current flow\ngently, while, impelled by the vigorous strokes of the rowers,\nthe vessel shot rapidly up the stream.\n\nAbout the middle of the day they came in sight of the scattered\nbuildings of the infant town where in after times the proud city\nof Rome grew, whose glory reached the skies.  By chance the old\nking, Evander, was that day celebrating annual solemnities in\nhonor of Hercules and all the gods.  Pallas, his son, and all the\nchiefs of the little commonwealth stood by.  When they saw the\ntall ship gliding onward through the wood, they were alarmed at\nthe sight, and rose from the tables.  But Pallas forbade the\nsolemnities to be interrupted, and seizing a weapon, stepped\nforward to the river's bank.  He called aloud, demanding who they\nwere and what was their object.  AEneas, holding forth an olive-\nbranch, replied, \"We are Trojans, friends to you and enemies to\nthe Rutulians.  We seek Evander, and offer to join our arms with\nyours.\"  Pallas, in amazement at the sound of so great a name,\ninvited them to land, and when AEneas touched the shore he seized\nhis hand and held it long in friendly grasp.  Proceeding through\nthe wood they joined the king and his party, and were most\nfavorably received.  Seats were provided for them at the tables,\nand the repast proceeded.\n\nWhen the solemnities were ended all moved towards the city.  The\nking, bending with age, walked between his son and AEneas, taking\nthe arm of one or the other of them, and with much variety of\npleasing talk shortening the way.  AEneas looked and listened\nwith delight, observing all the beauties of the scene, and\nlearning much of heroes renowned in ancient times.  Evander said,\n\"These extensive groves were once inhabited by fauns and nymphs,\nand a rude race of men who sprang from the trees themselves, and\nhad neither laws nor social culture.  They knew not how to yoke\nthe cattle nor raise a harvest, nor provide from present\nabundance for future want; but browsed like beasts upon the leafy\nboughs, or fed voraciously on their hunted prey.  Such were they\nwhen Saturn, expelled from Olympus by his sons, came among them\nand drew together the fierce savages, formed them into society,\nand gave them laws.  Such peace and plenty ensued that men ever\nsince have called his reign the golden age; but by degrees far\nother times succeeded, and the thirst of gold and the thirst of\nblood prevailed.  The land was a prey to successive tyrants, till\nfortune and resistless destiny brought me hither, an exile from\nmy native land, Arcadia.\"\n\nHaving thus said, he showed him the Tarpeian rock, and the rude\nspot then overgrown with bushes where in after times the Capitol\nrose in all its magnificence.  He next pointed to some dismantled\nwalls, and said, \"Here stood Janiculum, built by Janus, and there\nSaturnia, the town of Saturn.\"  Such discourse brought them to\nthe cottage of poor Evander, whence they saw the lowing herds\nroaming over the plain where now the proud and stately Forum\nstands.  They entered, and a couch was spread for AEneas, well\nstuffed with leaves and covered with the skin of the Libyan bear.\n\nNext morning, awakened by the dawn and the shrill song of birds\nbeneath the eaves of his low mansion, old Evander rose.  Clad in\na tunic, and a panther's skin thrown over his shoulders, with\nsandals on his feet, and his good sword girded to his side, he\nwent forth to seek his guest.  Two mastiffs followed him, his\nwhole retinue and body-guard.  He round the hero attended by his\nfaithful Achates, and, Pallas soon joining them, the old king\nspoke thus:\n\n\"Illustrious Trojan, it is but little we can do in so great a\ncause.  Our state is feeble, hemmed in on one side by the river,\non the other by the Rutulians.  But I propose to ally you with a\npeople numerous and rich, to whom fate has brought you at the\npropitious moment.  The Etruscans hold the country beyond the\nriver.  Mezentius was their king, a monster of cruelty, who\ninvented unheard-of torments to gratify his vengeance.  He would\nfasten the dead to the living, hand to hand and face to face, and\nleave the wretched victims to die in that dreadful embrace.  At\nlength the people cast him out, him and his house.  They burned\nhis palace and slew his friends.  He escaped and took refuge with\nTurnus, who protects him with arms.  The Etruscans' demand that\nhe shall be given up to deserved punishment, and would ere now\nhave attempted to enforce their demand; but their priests\nrestrain then, telling them that it is the will of heaven that no\nnative of the land shall guide them to victory, and that their\ndestined leader must come from across the sea.  They have offered\nthe crown to me, but I am too old to undertake such great\naffairs, and my son is native-born, which precludes him from the\nchoice.  You, equally by birth and time of life, and fame in\narms, pointed out by the gods, have but to appear to be hailed as\ntheir leader.  With you I will join Pallas, my son, my only hope\nand comfort.  Under you he shall learn the art of war, and strive\nto emulate your great exploits.\"\n\nThen the king ordered horses to be furnished for the Trojan\nchiefs, and AEneas, with a chosen band of followers and Pallas\naccompanying, mounted and took the way to the Etruscan city,\nhaving sent back the rest of his party in the ships.  AEneas and\nhis band safely arrived at the Etruscan camp and were received\nwith open arms by Tarchon, the Etruscan leader, and his\ncountrymen.\n\n\nNISUS AND EURYALUS\n\nIn the meanwhile Turnus had collected his bands and made all\nnecessary preparations for the war.  Juno sent Iris to him with a\nmessage inciting him to take advantage of the absence of AEneas\nand surprise the Trojan camp.  Accordingly the attempt was made,\nbut the Trojans were found on their guard, and having received\nstrict orders from AEneas not to fight in his absence, they lay\nstill in their intrenchments, and resisted all the efforts of the\nRutulians to draw them in to the field.  Night coming on, the\narmy of Turnus in high spirits at their fancied superiority,\nfeasted and enjoyed themselves, and finally stretched themselves\non the field and slept secure.\n\nIn the camp of the Trojans things were far otherwise.  There all\nwas watchfulness and anxiety, and impatience for AEneas's return.\nNisus stood guard at the entrance of the camp, and Euryalus, a\nyouth distinguished above all in the army for graces of person\nand fine qualities, was with him.  These two were friends and\nbrothers in arms.  Nisus said to his friend, \"Do you perceive\nwhat confidence and carelessness the enemy display?  Their lights\nare few and dim, and the men seem all oppressed with wine or\nsleep.  You know how anxiously our chiefs wish to send to AEneas,\nand to get intelligence from him.  Now I am strongly moved to\nmake my way through the enemy's camp and to go in search of our\nchief.  If I succeed, the glory of the deed will be enough reward\nfor me, and if they judge the service deserves anything more, let\nthem pay it to you.\"\n\nEuryalus, all on fire with the love of adventure, replied, \"Would\nyou then, Nisus, refuse to share your enterprise with me?  And\nshall I let you go into such danger alone?  Not so my brave\nfather brought me up, nor so have I planned for myself when I\njoined the standard of AEneas, and resolved to hold my life cheap\nin comparison with honor.\"  Nisus replied, \"I doubt it not, my\nfriend; but you know the uncertain event of such an undertaking,\nand whatever may happen to me, I wish you to be safe.  You are\nyounger than I and have more of life in prospect.  Nor can I be\nthe cause of such grief to your mother, who has chosen to be here\nin the camp with you rather than stay and live in peace with the\nother matrons in Acestes' city.\"  Euryalus replied, \"Say no more.\nIn vain you seek arguments to dissuade me.  I am fixed in the\nresolution to go with you.  Let us lose no time.\"  They called\nthe guard, and committing the watch to them, sought the general's\ntent.  They found the chief officers in consultation,\ndeliberating how they should send notice to AEneas of their\nsituation.  The offer of the two friends was gladly accepted,\nthey themselves were loaded with praises and promised the most\nliberal rewards in case of success.  Iulus especially addressed\nEuryalus, assuring him of his lasting friendship.  Euryalus\nreplied, \"I have but one boon to ask.  My aged mother is with me\nin the camp.   For me she left the Trojan soil, and would not\nstay behind with the other matrons at the city of Acestes.  I go\nnow without taking leave of her.  I could not bear her tears nor\nset at   nought he entreaties.  But do thou, I beseech thee,\ncomfort her in her distress.  Promise me that, and I shall go\nmore boldly into whatever dangers may present themselves.\"  Iulus\nand the other chiefs were moved to tears, and promised to do all\nhis request.  \"Your mother shall be mine,\" said Iulus, \"and all\nthat I have promised to you shall be made good to her, if you do\nnot return to receive it.\"\n\nThe two friends left the camp and plunged at once into the midst\nof the enemy.  They found no watch, no sentinels posted, but all\nabout, the sleeping soldiers strewn on the grass and among the\nwagons.  The laws of war at that early day did not forbid a brave\nman to slay a sleeping foe, and the two Trojans slew, as they\npassed, such of the enemy as they could without exciting alarm.\nIn one tent Euryalus made prize of a helmet brilliant with gold\nand plumes.  They had passed through the enemy's ranks without\nbeing discovered, but now suddenly appeared a troop directly in\nfront of them, which, under Volscens, their leader, were\napproaching the camp.  The glittering helmet of Euryalus caught\ntheir attention, and Volscens hailed the two, and demanded who\nand whence they were.  They made no answer, but plunged into the\nwood.  The horsemen scattered in all directions to intercept\ntheir flight.  Nisus had eluded pursuit and was out of danger,\nbut Euryalus being missing he turned back to seek him.  He again\nentered the wood and soon came within sound of voices.  Looking\nthrough the thicket he saw the whole band surrounding Euryalus\nwith noisy questions.  What should he do?  How extricate the\nyouth?  Or would it be better to die with him?\n\nRaising his eyes to the moon which now shone clear, he said,\n\"Goddess!  Favor my effort!\"  And aiming his javelin at one of\nthe leaders of the troop, struck him in the back and stretched\nhim on the plain with a death-blow.  In the midst of their\namazement another weapon flew, and another of the party fell\ndead.  Volscens, the leader, ignorant whence the darts came,\nrushed sword in hand upon Euryalus.  \"You shall pay the penalty\nof both,\" he said, and would have plunged the sword into his\nbosom, when Nisus, who from his concealment saw the peril of his\nfriend, rushed forward, exclaiming, \"'Twas I, 'twas I; turn your\nswords against me, Rutulians; I did it; he only followed me as a\nfriend.\"  While he spoke the sword fell, and pierced the comely\nbosom of Euryalus.  His head fell over on his shoulder, like a\nflower cut down by the plough.  Nisus rushed upon Volscens and\nplunged his sword into his body, and was himself slain on the\ninstant by numberless blows.\n\n\nMEZENTIUS\n\nAEneas, with his Etrurian allies, arrived on the scene of action\nin time to rescue his beleaguered camp; and now the two armies\nbeing nearly equal in strength, the war began in good earnest.\nWe cannot find space for all the details, but must simply record\nthe fate of the principal characters whom we have introduced to\nour readers.  The tyrant Mezentius, finding himself engaged\nagainst his revolted subjects, raged like a wild beast.  He slew\nall who dared to withstand him, and put the multitude to flight\nwherever he appeared.  At last he encountered AEneas, and the\narmies stood still to see the issue.  Mezentius threw his spear,\nwhich striking AEneas's shield glanced off and hit Anthor.  He\nwas a Grecian by birth, who had left Argos, his native city, and\nfollowed Evander into Italy.  The poet says of him, with simple\npathos which has made the words proverbial, \"He fell, unhappy, by\na wound intended for another, looked up to the skies, and dying\nremembered sweet Argos.\"  AEneas now in turn hurled his lance.\nIt pierced the shield of Mezentius, and wounded him in the thigh.\nLausus, his son, could not bear the sight, but rushed forward and\ninterposed himself, while the followers pressed round Mezentius\nand bore him away.  AEneas held his sword suspended over Lausus\nand delayed to strike, but the furious youth pressed on and he\nwas compelled to deal the fatal blow.  Lausus fell, and AEneas\nbent over him in pity.  \"Hapless youth,\" he said, \"what can I do\nfor you worthy of your praise?  Keep those arms in which you\nglory, and fear not but that your body shall be restored to your\nfriends, and have due funeral honors.\"  So saying, he called the\ntimid followers, and delivered the body into their hands.\n\nMezentius meanwhile had been borne to the river-side, and washed\nhis wound.  Soon the news reached him of Lausus's death, and rage\nand despair supplied the place of strength.  He mounted his horse\nand dashed into the thickest of the fight, seeking AEneas.\nHaving found him, he rode round him in a circle, throwing one\njavelin after another, while Aeneas stood fenced with his shield,\nturning every way to meet them.  At last, after Mezentius had\nthree times made the circuit, AEneas threw his lance directly at\nthe horse's head.  It pierced his temples and he fell, while a\nshout from both armies rent the skies.  Mezentius asked no mercy,\nbut only that his body might be spared the insults of his\nrevolted subjects, and be buried in the same grave with his son.\nHe received the fatal stroke not unprepared, and poured out his\nlife and his blood together.\n\nWhile these things were doing in one part of the field, in\nanother Turnus encountered the youthful Pallas.  The contest\nbetween champions so unequally matched could not be doubtful.\nPallas bore himself bravely, but fell by the lance of Turnus.\nThe victor almost relented when he saw the brave youth lying dead\nat his feet, and spared to use the privilege of a conqueror in\ndespoiling him of his arms.  The belt only, adorned with studs\nand carvings of gold, he took and clasped round his own body.\nThe rest he remitted to the friends of the slain.\n\nAfter the battle there was a cessation of arms for some days to\nallow both armies to bury their dead.  In this interval AEneas\nchallenged Turnus to decide the contest by single combat, but\nTurnus evaded the challenge.  Another battle ensued, in which\nCamilla, the virgin warrior, was chiefly conspicuous.  Her deeds\nof valor surpassed those of the bravest warriors, and many\nTrojans and Etruscans fell pierced with her darts or struck down\nby her battle-axe.  At last an Etruscan named Aruns, who had\nwatched her long, seeking for some advantage, observed her\npursuing a flying enemy whose splendid armor offered a tempting\nprize.  Intent on the chase she observed not her danger, and the\njavelin of Aruns struck her and inflicted a fatal wound.  She\nfell and breathed her last in the arms of her attendant maidens.\nBut Diana, who beheld her fate, suffered not her slaughter to be\nunavenged.  Aruns, as he stole away, glad but frightened, was\nstruck by a secret arrow, launched by one of the nymphs of\nDiana's train, and died ignobly and unknown.\n\nAt length the final conflict took place between AEneas and\nTurnus.  Turnus had avoided the contest as long as he could, but\nat last impelled by the ill success of his arms, and by the\nmurmurs of his followers, he braced himself to the conflict.  It\ncould not be doubtful.  On the side of AEneas were the expressed\ndecree of destiny, the aid of his goddess-mother at every\nemergency, and impenetrable armor fabricated by Vulcan, at Venus'\nrequest, for her son.  Turnus, on the other hand, was deserted by\nhis celestial allies, Juno having been expressly forbidden by\nJupiter to assist him any longer.  Turnus threw his lance, but it\nrecoiled harmless from the shield of AEneas.  The Trojan hero\nthen threw his, which penetrated the shield of Turnus, and\npierced his thigh.  Then Turnus' fortitude forsook him and he\nbegged for mercy; and AEneas would have given him his life, but\nat the instant his eye fell on the belt of Pallas, which Turnus\nhad taken from the slaughtered youth.  Instantly his rage\nrevived, and exclaiming, \"Pallas immolates thee with this blow,\"\nhe thrust him through with his sword.\n\nHere the AEneid closes, but the story goes that AEneas, having\ntriumphed over his foes, obtained Lavinia as his bride.  His son\nIulus founded the city of Alba Longa.  He, and his descendants\nafter him, reigned over the town for many years.  At length\nNumitor and Amulius, two brothers, quarrelled about the kingdom.\nAmulius seized the crown by force, cast out Numitor, and made his\ndaughter, Rhea Silvia, a Vestal Virgin.  The Vestal Virgins, the\npriestesses of the goddess Vesta, were sworn to celibacy.  But\nRhea Silvia broke her vow, and gave birth, by the god Mars, to\nthe twins, Romulus and Remus.  For this offence she was buried\nalive, the usual punishment accorded to unfaithful Vestals, while\nthe children were exposed on the river Tiber.  Romulus and Remus,\nhowever, were rescued by a herdsman, and were educated among the\nshepherds in ignorance of their parentage.  But chance revealed\nit to them.  They collected a band of friends, and took revenge\non their granduncle for the murder of their mother.  Afterwards\nthey founded, by the side of the river Tiber, where they had been\nexposed in infancy, the city of Rome.\n\n\n\nChapter XXVII\n\nPythagoras.  Egyptian Deities.  Oracles\n\nThe teachings of Anchises to AEneas, respecting the nature of the\nhuman soul, were in conformity with the doctrines of the\nPythagoreans.  Pythagoras (born, perhaps, about five hundred and\nforty years B.C.) was a native of the island of Samos, but passed\nthe chief portion of his life at Crotona in Italy.  He is\ntherefore sometimes called \"the Samian,\" and sometimes \"the\nphilosopher of Crotona.\"  When young he travelled extensively and\nis said to have visited Egypt, where he was instructed by the\npriests in all their learning, and afterwards journeyed to the\nEast, and visited the Persian and Chaldean Magi, and the Brahmins\nof India.\n\nBut Pythagoras left no writings which have been preserved.  His\nimmediate disciples were under a pledge of secrecy.  Though he is\nreferred to by many writers, at times not far distant from his\nown, we have no biography of him written earlier than the end of\nthe second century of our era.  In the interval between his life\nand this time, every sort of fable collected around what was\nreally known of his life and teaching.\n\nAt Crotona, where he finally established himself, it is said that\nhis extraordinary qualities collected round him a great number of\ndisciples.  The inhabitants were notorious for luxury and\nlicentiousness, but the good effects of his influence were soon\nvisible.  Sobriety and temperance succeeded.  Six hundred of the\ninhabitants became his disciples and enrolled themselves in a\nsociety to aid each other in the pursuit of wisdom; uniting their\nproperty in one common stock, for the benefit of the whole.  They\nwere required to practise the greatest purity and simplicity of\nmanners.  The first lesson they learned was SILENCE; for a time\nthey were required to be only hearers.  \"He (Pythagoras) said\nso,\" (Ipse dixit,) was to be held by them as sufficient, without\nany proof.  It was only the advanced pupils, after years of\npatient submission, who were allowed to ask questions and to\nstate objections.\n\nPythagoras is said to have considered NUMBERS as the essence and\nprinciple of all things, and attributed to them a real and\ndistinct existence; so that, in his view, they were the elements\nout of which the universe was constructed.  How he conceived this\nprocess has never been satisfactorily explained.  He traced the\nvarious forms and phenomena of the world to numbers as their\nbasis and essence.  The \"Monad,\" or UNIT, he regarded as the\nsource of all numbers.  The number TWO was imperfect, and the\ncause of increase and division.  THREE was called the number of\nthe whole, because it had a beginning, middle, and end; FOUR,\nrepresenting the square, is in the highest degree perfect; and\nTEN, as it contains the sum of the first three prime numbers\n(2+3+5=10.  ONE is not counted, as being rather the source of\nnumber than a number itself) comprehends all musical and\narithmetical proportions, and denotes the system of the world.\n\nAs the numbers proceed frm the Monad, so he regarded the pure and\nsimple essence of the Deity as the source of all the forms of\nnature.  Gods, demons, and heroes are emanations of the Supreme;\nand there is a fourth emanation, the human soul.  This is\nimmortal, and when freed from the fetters of the body, passes to\nthe habitation of the dead, where it remains till it returns to\nthe world to dwell in some other human or animal body, and at\nlast, when sufficiently purified, it returns to the source from\nwhich it proceeded.  This doctrine of the transmigration of souls\n(metempsychosis), which was first Indian and Egyptian, and\nconnected with the doctrine of reward and punishment of human\nactions, was the chief cause why the Pythagoreans killed no\nanimals.  Ovid represents Pythagoras addressing his disciples in\nthese words: \"Souls never die, but always on quitting one abode\npass to another.  I myself can remember that in the time of the\nTrojan was I was Euphorbus, the son of Panthus, and fell by the\nspear of Menelaus.  Lately, being in the temple of Juno, at\nArgos, I recognized my shield hung up there among the trophies.\nAll things change, nothing perishes.  The soul passes hither and\nthither, occupying now this body, now that, passing from the body\nof a beast into that of a man, and thence to a beast's again.  As\nwax is stamped with certain figures, then melted, then stamped\nanew with others, yet is always the same wax, so the soul, being\nalways the same, yet wears at different times different forms.\nTherefore, if the love of kindred is not extinct in your bosoms,\nforbear, I entreat you, to violate the life of those who may\nhaply be your own relatives.\"\n\nShakespeare, in the Merchant of Venice, makes Gratiano allude to\nthe metempsychosis, where he says to Shylock:\n\n  \"Thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith,\n  To hold opinion with Pythagoras,\n  That souls of animals infuse themselves\n  Into the trunks of men; thy currish spirit\n  Governed a wolf; who hanged for human slaughter\n  Infused his soul in thee; for thy desires\n  Are wolfish, bloody, starved, and ravenous.\"\n\nThe relation of the notes of the musical scale to numbers,\nwhereby harmony results from vibrations in equal times, and\ndiscord from the reverse, led Pythagoras to apply the word\n\"harmony\" to the visible creation, meaning by it the just\nadaptation of parts to each other.  This is the idea which Dryden\nexpresses in the beginning of his song for St. Cecilia's Day:\n\n  \"From harmony, from heavenly harmony\n  This everlasting frame began;\n  From harmony to harmony\n  Through all the compass of the notes it ran,\n  The Diapason closing full in Man.\"\n\nIn the centre of the universe (as Pythagoras taught) there was a\ncentral fire, the principle of life.  The central fire was\nsurrounded by the earth, the moon, the sun, and the five planets.\nThe distances of the various heavenly bodies from one another\nwere conceived to correspond to the proportions of the musical\nscale.  The heavenly bodies, with the gods who inhabited them,\nwere supposed to perform a choral dance round the central fire,\n\"not without song.\"  It is this doctrine which Shakespeare\nalludes to when he makes Lorenzo teach astronomy to Jessica in\nthis fashion:\n\n  \"Sit, Jessica, look how the floor of heaven\n  Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold!\n  There's not the smallest orb that thou behold'st\n  But in this motion like an angel sings,\n  Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim;\n  Such harmony is in immortal souls!\n  But whilst this muddy vesture of decay\n  Doth grossly close it in we cannot hear it.\"\n  Merchant of Venice\n\nThe spheres were conceived to be crystalline or glassy fabrics\narranged over one another like a nest of bowls reversed.  In the\nsubstance of each sphere one or more of the heavenly bodies was\nsupposed to be fixed, so as to move with it.  As the spheres are\ntransparent, we look through them, and see the heavenly bodies\nwhich they contain and carry round with them.  But as these\nspheres cannot move on one another without friction, a sound is\nthereby produced which is of exquisite harmony, too fine for\nmortal ears to recognize.  Milton, in his Hymn to the Nativity,\nthus alludes to the music of the spheres:\n\n  \"Ring out, ye crystal spheres!\n  Once bless our human ears;\n  (If ye have power to charm our senses so);\n  And let your silver chime\n  Move in melodious time,\n  And let the base of Heaven's deep organ blow:\n  And with your nine-fold harmony\n  Make up full concert with the angelic symphony.\"\n\nPythagoras is said to have invented the lyre, of which other\nfables give the invention to Mercury.  Our own poet, Longfellow,\nin Verses to a Child, thus relates the story:\n\n  \"As great Pythagoras of yore,\n  Standing beside the blacksmith's door,\n  And hearing the hammers as they smote\n  The Anvils with a different note,\n  Stole from the varying tones that hung\n  Vibrant on every iron tongue,\n The secret of the sounding wire,\n  A nd formed the seven-chorded lyre.\"\n\nSee also the same poet's Occultation of Orion:\n\n  \"The Samian's great AEolian lyre.\"\n\n\nSYBARIS AND CROTONA\n\nSybaris, a neighboring city to Crotona, was as celebrated for\nluxury and effeminacy as Crotona for the reverse.  The name has\nbecome proverbial.  Lowell uses it in this sense in his charming\nlittle poem To the Dandelion:\n\n  \"Not in mild June the golden-cuirassed bee\n  Feels a more summer-like, warm ravishment\n  In the white lily's breezy tent,\n  (His conquered Sybaris) than I when first\n  From the dark green thy yellow circles burst.\"\n\nA war arose between the two cities, and Sybaris was conquered and\ndestroyed.  Milo, the celebrated athlete, led the army of\nCrotona.  Many stories are told of Milo's vast strength, such as\nhis carrying a heifer of four years old upon his shoulders, and\nafterwards eating the whole of it in a single day.  The mode of\nhis death is thus related: As he was passing through a forest he\nsaw the trunk of a tree which had been partially split open by\nwood-cutters, and attempted to rend it further; but the wood\nclosed upon his hands and held him fast, in which state he was\nattacked and devoured by wolves.\n\nByron, in his Ode to Napoleon Bonaparte, alludes to the story of\nMilo:\n\n  \"He who of old would rend the oak\n  Deemed not of the rebound;\n  Chained by the trunk he vainly broke,\n  Alone, how looked he round!\"\n\n\nEGYPTIAN DEITIES\n\nThe remarkable discovery by which Champollion the younger (so\ncalled to distinguish him from his older brother, Champollion\nFigeac, who also studied the hieroglyphics)) first opened to\nmodern times the secret of the Egyptian hieroglyphics, has been\nfollowed up by laborious studies, which tell us more of Egyptian\nworship and mythology, with more precision, than we know of any\nother ancient religion but that of the Hebrews.  We have even\ngreat numbers of copies of the liturgies, or handbooks of\nworship, of funeral solemnities, and other rituals, which have\nbeen diligently translated.  And we have a sufficient body of the\nliterature written and used by the priesthood.\n\nThese discoveries give to writers of this generation a much\nfuller knowledge of the Egyptian religion, of its forms, and of\nthe names of its gods, than they had before.  It is impossible,\nand probably always will be, to state with precision the theology\non which it rested.  It is impossible, because that theology was\ndifferent in one time and with one school from what it was at\nother times.  Mr. S. Birch, of the British Museum, says, \"The\nreligion of the Egyptians consisted of an extended polytheism\nrepresented by a system of local groups.\"  But Mr. Pierret says,\n\"The polytheism of the monuments is but an outward show.  The\ninnumerable gods of the Pantheon are but manifestations of the\nOne Being in his various capacities.  Mariette Bey says, \"The one\nresult is that according to the Egyptians, the universe was God\nhimself, and that Pantheism formed the foundation of their\nreligion.\"\n\nIn this book it is not necessary to reconcile views so diverse,\nnor indeed to enter on studies so profound as those which should\ndecide between them.  For our purpose here it is enough to know\nthat the Sun was the older object of worship, and in his various\nforms   rising, midday, or setting   was adored under different\nnames.  Frequently his being and these names were united to the\ntypes of other deities.  Mr. Birch believes that the worship of\nOsiris prevailed largely beside the worship of the Sun, and is\nnot to be confounded with it.  To Osiris, Set, the Egyptian\ndevil, was opposed.\n\nThe original God, the origin of all things, manifests himself to\nmen, in lesser forms, according to this mythology, more and more\nhuman and less and less intangible.  These forms are generally\ntriads, and resolve themselves into a male deity, a female deity,\nand their child.  Triad after triad brings the original Divinity\ninto forms more and more earthly, till at last we find \"that we\nhave no longer to do with the infinite and intangible God of the\nearliest days, but rather with a God of flesh and blood, who\nlives upon earth, and has so abased himself as to be no more than\na human king.  It is no longer the God of whom no man knew either\nthe form or the substance: it is Kneph at Esneh,   Hathor at\nDurderah,   Horus, king of the divine dynasty at Edfoo.\"  These\nwords are M. Maspero's.\n\nThe Greek and Latin poets and philosophers, as they made some\nvery slight acquaintance with Egyptian worship, give Greek or\nLatin names to the divinities worshipped.  Thus we sometimes hear\nOsiris spoken of as the Egyptian Hermes.  But such changes of\nnames are confusing, and are at best but fanciful (In the same\nway Plutarch, a Greek writer, says of the Jews' Feast of\nTabernacles, \"I know that their God is our Bacchus.\"  This was\nmerely from the vines, vine leaves and wine used in the\nceremonies.)  It would happen sometimes, in later times, that a\nfashion of religion would carry the worship of one God or Goddess\nto a distance.  Thus the worship of Isis became fashionable in\nRome in the time of Nero and Paul, as readers of Bulwer's Last\nDays of Pompeii will remember.\n\nThe latest modern literature occasionally uses the Egyptian\nnames, as the last two centuries have disinterred them from the\ninscriptions on the monuments, and from the manuscripts in the\ntombs.  Earlier English writers generally use the names like\nOsiris, Anubis, and others found in Latin and Greek writers.\n\nThe following statement as to these deities and their names is\nfrom Mr. Birch:\n\n\"The deities of ancient Egypt consist of celestial, terrestrial,\nand infernal gods, and of many inferior personages, either\nrepresentatives of the greater gods or attendants on them.  Most\nof the gods were connected with the sun, and represented that\nluminary through the upper hemisphere or Heaven and the lower\nhemisphere or Hades.  To the deities of the solar cycle belonged\nthe great gods of Thebes and Heliopolis.  In the local worship of\nEgypt the deities were arranged in local triads; thus at Memphis,\nPtah, his wife Merienptah, and their son Nefer Atum, formed a\ntriad, to which was sometimes added the goddess Bast or Bubastis.\nAt Abydos the local triad was Osiris, Isis, and Horus, with\nNephthys; at Thebes, Amen Ra or Ammon, Mut and Chons, with Neith;\nat Elephantine, Kneph, Anuka, Sati, and Hak.  In most instances\nthe names of the gods are Egyptian; thus, Ptah meant 'the\nopener'; Amen, 'the concealed'; Ra, 'the sun or day'; Athor, 'the\nhouse of Horus';' but some few, especially of later times, were\nintroduced from Semitic sources, as Bal or Baal, Astaruta or\nAstarte, Khen or Kiun, Respu or Reseph.  Besides the principal\ngods, several inferior or parhedral gods, sometimes\npersonifications of the faculties, senses, and other objects, are\nintroduced into the religious system, and genii, spirits or\npersonified souls of deities formed part of the same.  At a\nperiod subsequent to their first introduction the gods were\ndivided into three orders.  The first or highest comprised eight\ndeities, who were different in the Memphian and Theban systems.\nThey were supposed to have reigned over Egypt before the time of\nmortals.  The eight gods of the first order at Memphis were   1.\nPtah; 2. Shu; 3. Tefnu; 4. Seb; 5. Nut; 6. Osiris; 7. Isis and\nHorus; 8. Athor.  Those of Thebes were   1. Amen Ra; 2. Mentu; 3.\nAtum; 4. Shu and Tefnu; 5. Seb; 6. Osiris; 7. Set and Nepthys; 8.\nHorus and Athor.  The gods of the second order were twelve in\nnumber, but the name of one only, an Egyptian Hercules, has been\npreserved.  The third order is stated to have comprised Osiris,\nwho, it will be seen, belonged to the first order.\"  GUIDE TO THE\nFIRST AND SECOND EGYPTIAN ROOMS, BRITISH MUSEUM.  S. Birch\n\nMiss Edwards gives the following convenient register of the names\nmost familiar among the Egyptian gods (in her very interesting\nbook, \"A Thousand Miles up the Nile\").\n\nPHTAH or PTAH: In form a mummy, holding the emblem called by some\nthe Nilometer, by others the emblem of Stability, called \"the\nfather of the Beginning, the Creator of the Egg of the Sun and\nMoon,\" Chief Deity of Memphis.\n\nKNEPH, KNOUM or KNOUPHIS: Ram-headed, called the Maker of gods\nand men, the Soul of the gods.  Chief Deity of Elephantine and\nthe Cataracts.\n\nRA: Hawk-headed, and crowned with the sun-disc, encircled by an\nasp.  The divine disposer and organizer of the world; adored\nthroughout Egypt.\n\nAMEN RA: Of human form, crowned with a flat-topped cap and two\nlong, straight plumes; clothed in the schenti; his flesh\nsometimes painted blue.  There are various forms of this god\n(there were almost as many varieties of Ammon in Egypt as there\nare varieties of the Madonna in Italy or Spain), but he is most\ngenerally described as King of the Gods, chief deity of Thebes.\n\nKHEM: Of human form, mummified; wears head-dress of Amen Ra; his\nright hand uplifted, holding a flail.  The god of productiveness\nand generation.  Chief deity of Khemmis, or Ekhmeem.\n\nOSIRIS: Of human form, mummified, crowned with a mitre, and\nholding the flail and crook.  Called the Good; the Lord above\nall; the one lord.  Was the god of the lower world; judge of the\ndead; and representative of the sun below the horizon.  Adored\nthrough Egypt.  Local deity of Abydos.\n\nNEFER ATUM: Human-headed, and crowned with the pschent.  This god\nrepresented the nocturnal sun, or the sun lighting the lower\nworld.  Local deity of Heliopolis.\n\nTHOTH: In form a man, ibis-headed, generally depicted with the\npen and palette of a scribe.  Was the god of the moon, and of\nletters.  Local deity of Sesoon, or Hermopolit.\n\nSEB: The \"Father of the Gods,\" and deity of terrestrial\nvegetation.  In form like a man with a goose upon his head.\n\nSET: Represented by a symbolic animal, with a muzzle and ears\nlike a jackal, the body of an ass, and an upright tail, like the\ntail of a lion.  Was originally a warlike god, and became in\nlater times the symbol of evil and the enemy of Osiris.\n\nKHONS: Hawk-headed, crowned with the sun-disc and horns.  Is\nsometimes represented as a youth with the side-lock, standing on\na crocodile.\n\nHORUS: Horus appears variously as Horus, Horus Aroeris, and Horus\nHarpakhrat (Hippocrates), or Horus the child.  Is represented\nunder the first two forms as a man, hawk-headed, wearing the\ndouble crown of Egypt; in the latter as a child with the side-\nlock.  Local deity of Edfoo (Apollinopolis Magna).\n\nMAUT: A woman draped, and crowned with the pschent (the pschent\nwas a double crown, worn by the king at his coronation),\nrepresenting a vulture.  Adored at Thebes.\n\nNEITH: A woman draped, holding sometimes a bow and arrows,\ncrowned with the crown of Lower Egypt.  She presided over war,\nand the loom.  Worshipped at Thebes.\n\nISIS: A woman crowned with the sun-disc surmounted by a throne,\nand sometimes enclosed between horns.  Adored at Abydos.  Her\nsoul resided in Sothis on the Dog-star.\n\nNUT: A woman so bent that her hands touched the earth.  She\nrepresents the vault of heaven, and is the mother of the gods.\n\nHATHOR: Cow-headed, and crowned with the disc and plumes.  Deity\nof Amenti, or the Egyptian Hades.  Worshipped at Denderah.\n\nPASHT: Pasht and Bast appear to be two forms of the same goddess.\nAs Bast she is represented as a woman, lion-headed, with the disc\nand uroeus; as Pasht she is cat-headed, and holds a sistrum.\nAdored at Bubastis.  Observe the syllable BAST.\n\nThe highest visible deity of the Egyptians was Amun Ra, or Amen\nRa, the concealed sun; the word Ra signifying the sun.  This name\nappears in the Greek and Latin writers as Zeus Ammon and Jupiter\nAmmon.  When Amun manifests himself by his word, will or spirit,\nhe is known as Nu, Num, Noub, Nef, Neph, or Kneph,   and this\nword Kneph through the form Cnuphis is, perhaps, the Anubis of\nthe Greek and Latin authors. That word has not been found earlier\nthan the time of Augustus.  Anubis was then worshipped as the\nguardian god, and represented with a dog's head.\n\nThe soul of Osiris was supposed to exist in some way in the\nsacred bull Apis, of which Serapis or Sarapis is probably another\nname.  \"Apis,\" says Herodotus, \"is a young bull,   whose hair is\nblack, on his forehead a white triangle, -- on his back an eagle,\n  with a beetle under his tongue and with the hair of his tail\ndouble.\"  Ovid says he is of various colors.  Plutarch says he\nhas a crescent on his right side.  These superstitions varied\nfrom age to age.  Apis was worshipped in Memphis.\n\nIt must be observed, in general, that the names in the Latin\nclassics belong to a much later period of the Egyptian religion\nthan the names found on most of the monuments.  It will be found,\nthat, as in the change from Nu to Anubis, it is difficult to\ntrace the progress of a name from one to the other.  In the cases\nwhere an ox, a ram, or a dog is worshipped with, or as a symbol\nof, a god, we probably have the survival of a very early local\nidolatry.\n\nHorus or Harpocrates, named above, was the son of Osiris.  He is\nsometimes represented, seated on a Lotus-flower, with his finger\non his lips, as the god of silence.\n\nIn one of Moore's Irish Melodies is an allusion to Harpocrates: -\n\n  \"Thyself shall, under some rosy bower,\n  Sit mute, with thy finger on thy lip:\n  Like him, the boy, who born among\n  The flowers that on the Nile-stream blush,\n  Sits over thus, his only song\n  To Earth and Heaven, \"Hush, all, hush!\"\n\n\nMYTH OF OSIRIS AND ISIS\n\nOsiris and Isis were at one time induced to descend to the earth\nto bestow gifts and blessings on its inhabitants.  Isis showed\nthem first the use of wheat and barley, and Osiris made the\ninstruments of agriculture and taught men the use of them, as\nwell as how to harness the ox to the plough.  He then gave men\nlaws, the institution of marriage, a civil organization, and\ntaught them how to worship the gods.  After he had thus made the\nvalley of the Nile a happy country, he assembled a host with\nwhich he went to bestow his blessings upon the rest of the world.\nHe conquered the nations everywhere, but not with weapons, only\nwith music and eloquence.  His brother Typhon (Typhon is supposed\nto be the Seth of the monuments) saw this, and filled with envy\nand malice sought, during his absence, to usurp his throne.  But\nIsis, who held the reins of government, frustrated his plans.\nStill more embittered, he now resolved to kill his brother.  This\nhe did in the following manner: Having organized a conspiracy of\nseventy-two members, he went with them to the feast which was\ncelebrated in honor of the king's return.  He then caused a box\nor chest to be brought in, which had been made to fit exactly the\nsize of Osiris, and declared that he would give that chest of\nprecious wood to whosoever could get into it.  The rest tried in\nvain, but no sooner was Osiris in it than Typhon and his\ncompanions closed the lid and flung the chest into the Nile.\nWhen Isis heard of the cruel murder she wept and mourned, and\nthen with her hair shorn, clothed in black and beating her\nbreast, she sought diligently for the body of her husband.  In\nthis search she was assisted by Anubis, the son of Osiris and\nNephthys.  They sought in vain for some time; for when the chest,\ncarried by the waves to the shores of Byblos, had become\nentangled in the reeds that grew at the edge of the water, the\ndivine power that dwelt in the body of Osiris imparted such\nstrength to the shrub that it grew into a mighty tree, enclosing\nin its trunk the coffin of the god.  This tree, with its sacred\ndeposit, was shortly afterward felled, and erected as a column in\nthe palace of the king of Phoenicia.  But at length, by the aid\nof Anubis and the sacred birds, Isis ascertained these facts, and\nthen went to the royal city.  There she offered herself at the\npalace as a servant, and being admitted, threw off her disguise\nand appeared as the goddess, surrounded with thunder and\nlightning.  Striking the column with her wand, she caused it to\nsplit open and give up the sacred coffin.  This she seized and\nreturned with it, and concealed it in the depth of a forest, but\nTyphon discovered it, and cutting the body into fourteen pieces,\nscattered them hither and thither.  After a tedious search, Isis\nfound thirteen pieces, the fishes of the Nile having eaten the\nother.  This she replaced by an imitation of sycamore wood, and\nburied the body at Philoe, which became ever after the great\nburying place of the nation, and the spot to which pilgrimages\nwere made from all parts of the country.  A temple of surpassing\nmagnificence was also erected there in honor of the god, and at\nevery place where one of his limbs had been found, minor temples\nand tombs were built to commemorate the event.  Osiris became\nafter that the tutelar deity of the Egyptians.  His soul was\nsupposed always to inhabit the body of the bull Apis, and at his\ndeath to transfer itself to his successor.\n\nApis, the Bull of Memphis, was worshipped with the greatest\nreverence by the Egyptians.  As soon as a bull marked with the\nmarks which have been described, was found by those sent in\nsearch of him, he was placed in a building facing the east, and\nwas fed with milk for four months.  At the expiration of this\nterm the priests repaired at new moon with great pomp, to his\nhabitation, and saluted him Apis.  He was placed in a vessel\nmagnificently decorated and conveyed down the Nile to Memphis,\nwhere a temple, with two chapels and a court for exercise, was\nassigned to him.  Sacrifices were made to him, and once every\nyear, about the time when the Nile began to rise, a golden cup\nwas thrown into the river, and a grand festival was held to\ncelebrate his birthday.  The people believed that during this\nfestival the crocodiles forgot their natural ferocity and became\nharmless.  There was however one drawback to his happy lot; he\nwas not permitted to live beyond a certain period; and if when he\nhad attained the age of twenty-five years, he still survived, the\npriests drowned him in the sacred cistern, and then buried him in\nthe temple of Serapis.  On the death of this bull, whether it\noccurred in the course of nature or by violence, the whole land\nwas filled with sorrow and lamentations, which lasted until his\nsuccessor was found.\n\nA new Apis was found as late as the reign of Hadrian.  A mummy\nmade from one of the Sacred Bulls may be seen in the Egyptian\ncollection of the Historical Society, New York.\n\nMilton, in his Hymn of the Nativity, alludes to the Egyptian\ndeities, not as imaginary beings, but as real demons put to\nflight by the coming of Christ:\n\n  \"The brutish gods of Nile as fast,\n  Isis and Horus and the dog Anubis haste.\n  Nor is Osiris seen\n  In Memphian grove or green\n  Trampling the unshowered* grass with lowings loud;\n  Nor can he be at rest\n  Within his sacred chest;\n  Nought but profoundest hell can be his shroud.\n  In vain with timbrel'd anthems dark\n  The sable-stoled sorcerers bear his worshipped ark.\"\n\n*(There being no rain in Egypt, the grass is \"unshowered,\" and\nthe country depends for its fertility upon the overflowings of\nthe Nile.  The ark alluded to in the last line is shown by\npictures still remaining on the walls of the Egyptian temples to\nhave been borne by the priests in their religious processions.\nIt probably represented the chest in which Osiris was placed.)\n\nIsis was represented in statuary with the head veiled, a symbol\nof mystery.  It is this which Tennyson alludes to in Maud, 0V.8\n\n  \"For the drift of te Maker is dark, an Isis hid by the veil.\"\n\n\nORACLES\n\nOracle was the name used to denote the place where answers were\nsupposed to be given by any of the divinities to those who\nconsulted them respecting the future. The word was also used to\nsignify the response which was given.\n\nThe most ancient Grecian oracle was that of Jupiter at Dodona.\nAccording to one account it was established in the following\nmanner.  Two black doves took their flight from Thebes in Egypt.\nOne flew to Dodona in Epirus and alighting in a grove of oaks, it\nproclaimed in human language to the inhabitants of the district\nthat they must establish there an oracle of Jupiter.  The other\ndove flew to the temple of Jupiter Ammon in the Libyan oasis, and\ndelivered a similar command there.  Another account is, that\nthey were not doves, but priestesses, who were carried off from\nThebes in Egypt by the Phoenicians, and set up oracles at Oasis\nand Dodona.  The responses of the oracle were given from the\ntrees, by the branches rustling in the wind, the sounds being\ninterpreted by the priests.\n\nBut the most celebrated of the Grecian oracles was that of Apollo\nat Delphi, a city built on the slopes of Parnassus in Phocis.\n\nIt had been observed at a very early period that the goats\nfeeding on Parnassus were thrown into convulsions when they\napproached a certain long deep cleft in the side of the mountain.\nThis was owing to a peculiar vapor arising out of the cavern, and\none of the goatherds was induced to try its effects upon himself.\nInhaling the intoxicating air he was affected in the same manner\nas the cattle had been, and the inhabitants of the surrounding\ncountry, unable to explain the circumstance, imputed the\nconvulsive ravings to which he gave utterance while under the\npower of the exhalations, to a divine inspiration.  The fact was\nspeedily circulated widely, and a temple was erected on the spot.\nThe prophetic influence was at first variously attributed to the\ngoddess Earth, to Neptune, Themis, and others, but it was at\nlength assigned to Apollo, and to him alone.  A priestess was\nappointed whose office it was to inhale the hallowed air, and who\nwas named the Pythia.  She was prepared for this duty by previous\nablution at the fountain of Castalia, and being crowned with\nlaurel was seated upon a tripod similarly adorned, which was\nplaced over the chasm whence the divine afflatus proceeded.  Her\ninspired words while thus situated were interpreted by the\npriests.\n\n\nORACLE OF TROPHONIUS\n\nBesides the oracles of Jupiter and Apollo, at Dodona and Delphi,\nthat of Trophonius in Boeotia was held in high estimation.\nTrophonius and Agamedes were brothers.  They were distinguished\narchitechts, and built the temple of Apollo at Delphi, and a\ntreasury for King Hyrieus.  In the wall of the treasury they\nplaced a stone, in such a manner that it could be taken out; and\nby this means from time to time purloined the treasure.  This\namazed Hyrieus, for his locks and seals were untouched, and yet\nhis wealth, continually diminished.  At length he set a trap for\nthe thief and Agamedes was caught.  Trophonius unable to\nextricate him, and fearing that when found he would be compelled\nby torture to discover his accomplice, cut off his head.\nTrophonius himself is said to have been shortly afterwards\nswallowed up by the earth.\n\nThe oracle of Trophonius was at Lebadea in Boeotia.  During a\ngreat drought the Boeotians, it is said, were directed by the god\nat Delphi to seek aid of Trophonius at Lebadea.  They came\nthither, but could find no oracle.  One of them, however,\nhappening to see a swarm of bees, followed them to a chasm in the\nearth, which proved to be the place sought.\n\nPeculiar ceremonies were to be performed by the person who came\nto consult the oracle.  After these preliminaries, he descended\ninto the cave by a narrow passage.  This place could be entered\nonly in the night.  The person returned from the cave by the same\nnarrow passage, but walking backwards.  He appeared melancholy\nand dejected; and hence the proverb which was applied to a person\nlow-spirited and gloomy, \"He has been consulting the oracle of\nTrophonius.\"\n\n\nORACLE OF AESCULAPIUS\n\nThere were numerous oracles of Aesculapius, but the most\ncelebrated one was at Epidaurus.  Here the sick sought responses\nand the recovry of their health by sleeping in the temple.  It\nhas been inferred from the accounts that have come down to us,\nthat the treatment of the sick resembled what is now called\nAnimal Magnetism or Mesmerism.\n\nSerpents were sacred to Aesculapius, probably because of a\nsuperstition that those animals have a faculty of renewing their\nyouth by a change of skin.  The worship of Aesculapius was\nintroduced into Rome in a time of great sickness, and an embassy\nsent to the temple of Epidaurus to entreat the aid of the god.\nAesculapius was propitious, and on the return of the ship\naccompanied it in the form of a serpent.  Arriving in the river\nTiber, the serpent glided from the vessel and took possession of\nan island in the river, and a temple was there erected to his\nhonor.\n\n\nORACLE OF APIS\n\nAt Memphis the sacred bull Apis gave answer to those who\nconsulted him, by the manner in which he received or rejected\nwhat was presented to him.  If the bull refused food from the\nhand of the inquirer it was considered an unfavorable sign, and\nthe contrary when he received it.\n\nIt has been a question whether oracular responses ought to be\nascribed to mere human contrivance or to the agency of evil\nspirits.  The latter opinion has been most general in past ages.\nA third theory has been advanced since the phenomena of Mesmerism\nhave attracted attention, that something like the mesmeric trance\nwas induced in the Pythoness, and the faculty of clairvoyance\nreally called into action.\n\nAnother question is as to the time when the Pagan oracles ceased\nto give responses.  Ancient Christian writers assert that they\nbecame silent at the birth of Christ, and were heard no more\nafter that date.  Milton adopts this view in his Hymn of the\nNativity, and in lines of solemn and elevated beauty pictures the\nconsternation of the heathen idols at the advent of the Saviour.\n\n  \"The oracles are dumb;\n  No voice or hideous hum\n  Rings through the arched roof in words deceiving.\n  Apollo from his shrine\n  Can no more divine,\n  With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving.\n  No nightly trance or breathed spell\n  Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.\"\n\nIn Cowper's poem of Yardley Oak there are some beautiful\nmythological allusions.  The former of the two following is to\nthe fable of Castor and Pollux; the latter is more appropriate to\nour present subject.  Addressing the acorn he says,\n\n  \"Thou fell'st mature; and in the loamy clod,\n  Swelling with vegetative force instinct,\n  Didst burst thine egg, as theirs the fabled Twins\n  Now stars; two lobes protruding, paired exact;\n  A leaf succeeded and another leaf,\n  And, all the elements thy puny growth\n  Fostering propitious, thou becam'st a twig.\n  Who lived when thou was such?  Oh, couldst thou speak\n  As in Dodona once thy kindred trees\n  Oracular, I would not curious ask\n  The future, best unknown, but at thy mouth\n  Inquisitive, the less ambiguous past.\"\n\nTennyson in his Talking Oak alludes to the oaks of Dodona in\nthese lines:\n\n  \"And I will work in prose and rhyme,\n  And praise thee more in both\n  Than bard has honored beech or lime,\n  Or that Thessalian growth\n  In which the swarthy ring-dove sat\n  And mystic sentence spoke.\"\n\nByron alludes to the oracle of Delphi where, speaking of\nRousseau, whose writings he conceives did much to bring on the\nFrench revolution, he says,\n\n  \"For then he was inspired, and from him came,\n  As from the Pythian's mystic cave of yore,\n  Those oracles which set the world in flame,\n  Nor ceased to burn till kingdoms were no more.\"\n\n\n\nChapter XXVIII\n\nOrigin of Mythology   Statues of Gods and Goddesses   Poets of\nMythology\n\nHaving reached the close of our series of stories of Pagan\nmythology, an inquiry suggests itself.  \"Whence came these\nstories?  Have they a foundation in truth, or are they simply\ndreams of the imagination?\"  Philosophers have suggested various\ntheories on the subject of which we shall give three or four.\n\n1.  The Scriptural theory; according to which all mythological\nlegends are derived from the narratives of Scripture, though the\nreal facts have been disguised and altered.  Thus Deucalion is\nonly another name for Noah, Hercules for Samson, Arion for Jonah,\netc.  Sir Walter Raleigh, in his History of the World, says,\n\"Jubal, Tubal, and Tubal-Cain were Mercury, Vulcan, and Apollo,\ninventors of Pasturage, Smithing, and Music.  The Dragon which\nkept the golden apples was the serpent that beguiled Eve.\nNimrod's tower was the attempt of the Giants against Heaven.\nThere are doubtless many curious coincidences like these, but the\ntheory cannot without extravagance be pushed so far as to account\nfor any great proportion of the stories.\n\n2.  The Historical theory; according to which all the persons\nmentioned in mythology were once real human beings, and the\nlegends and fabulous traditions relating to them are merely the\nadditions and embellishments of later times.  Thus the story of\nAEolus, the king and god of the winds, is supposed to have risen\nfrom the fact that AEolus was the ruler of some islands in the\nTyrrhenian Sea, where he reigned as a just and pious king, and\ntaught the natives the use of sails for ships, and how to tell\nfrom the signs of the atmosphere the changes of the weather and\nthe winds.  Cadmus, who, the legend says, sowed the earth with\ndragon's teeth, from which sprang a crop of armed men, was in\nfact an emigrant from Phoenicia, and brought with him into Greece\nthe knowledge of the letters of the alphabet, which he taught to\nthe natives.  From these rudiments of learning sprung\ncivilization, which the poets have always been prone to describe\nas a deterioration of man's first estate, the Golden Age of\ninnocence and simplicity.\n\n3.  The Allegorical theory supposes that all the myths of the\nancients were allegorical and symbolical, and contained some\nmoral, religious, or philosophical truth or historical fact,\nunder the form of an allegory, but came in process of time to be\nunderstood literally.  Thus Saturn, who devours his own children,\nis the same power whom the Greeks called Kronos (Time), which may\ntruly be said to destroy whatever it has brought into existence.\nThe story of Io is interpreted in a similar manner.  Io is the\nmoon, and Argus the starry sky, which, as it were, keeps\nsleepless watch over her.  The fabulous wanderings of Io\nrepresent the continual revolutions of the moon, which also\nsuggested to Milton the same idea.\n\n  \"To behold the wandering moon\n  Riding near her highest noon,\n  Like one that had been led astray\n  In the heaven's wide, pathless way.\"\n  Il Penseroso\n\n4.  The Astronomical theory supposes that the different stories\nare corrupted versions of astronomical statements, of which the\ntrue meaning was forgotten.  This theory is pushed to its extreme\nby Dupuis, in his treatise \"Sur tous les cultes.\"\n\n5.  The Physical theory, according to which the elements of air,\nfire, and water, were originally the objects of religious\nadoration, and the principal deities were personifications of the\npowers of nature.  The transition was easy from a personification\nof the elements to the notion of supernatural beings presiding\nover and governing the different objects of nature.  The Greeks,\nwhose imagination was lively, peopled all nature with invisible\nbeings, and supposed that every object, from the sun and sea to\nthe smallest fountain and rivulet, was under the care of some\nparticular divinity.  Wordsworth, in his Excursion, has\nbeautifully developed this view of Grecian mythology.\n\n  \"In that fair clime the lonely herdsman, stretched\n  On the soft grass through half a summer's day,\n  With music lulled his indolent repose;\n  And, in some fit of weariness, if he,\n  When his own breath was silent, chanced to hear\n  A distant strain far sweeter than the sounds\n  Which his poor skill could make, his fancy fetched\n  Even from the blazing chariot of the sun\n  A beardless youth who touched a golden lute,\n  And filled the illumined groves with ravishment.\n  The mighty hunter, lifting up his eyes\n  Toward the crescent Moon, with grateful heart\n  Called on the lovely Wanderer who bestowed\n  That timely light to share his joyous sport;\n  And hence a beaming goddess with her nymphs\n  Across the lawn and through the darksome grove\n  (Not unaccompanied with tuneful notes\n  By echo multiplied from rock or cave)\n  Swept in the storm of chase, as moon and stars\n  Glance rapidly along the clouded heaven\n  When winds are blowing strong.  The traveller slaked\n  His thirst from rill or gushing fount, and thanked\n  The Naiad.  Sunbeams upon distant hills\n  Gliding apace with shadows in their train,\n  Might with small help from fancy, be transformed\n  Into fleet Oreads sporting visibly.\n  The Zephyrs, fanning, as they passed, their wings,\n  Lacked not for love fair objects whom they wooed\n  With gentle whisper.  Withered boughs grotesque,\n  Stripped of their leaves and twigs by hoary age,\n  From depth of shaggy covert peeping forth\n  In the low vale, or on steep mountain side;\n  And sometimes intermixed with stirring horns\n  Of the live deer, or goat's depending beard;\n  These were the lurking Satyrs, a wild brood\n  Of gamesome deities; or Pan himself,\n  The simple shepherd's awe-inspiring god.\"\n\nAll the theories which have bene mentioned are true to a certain\nextent.  It would therefore be more correct to say that the\nmythology of a nation has sprung from all these sources combined\nthan from any one in particular.  We may add also that there are\nmany myths which have risen from the desire of man to account for\nthose natural phenomena which he cannot understand; and not a few\nhave had their rise from a similar desire of giving a reason for\nthe names of places and persons.\n\n\nSTATUES OF THE GODS\n\nAdequately to represent to the eye the ideas intended to be\nconveyed to the mind under the several names of deities, was a\ntask which called into exercise the highest powers of genius and\nart.  Of the many attempts FOUR have been most celebrated, the\nfirst two known to us only by the descriptions of the ancients,\nand by copies on gems, which are still preserved; the other two\nstill extant and the acknowledged masterpieces of the sculptor's\nart.\n\n\nTHE OLYMPIAN JUPITER\n\nThe statue of the Olympian Jupiter by Phidias was considered the\nhighest achievement of this department of Grecian art.  It was of\ncolossal dimensions, and was what the ancients called\n\"chryselephantine;\" that is, composed of ivory and gold; the\nparts representing flesh being of ivory laid on a core of wood or\nstone, while the drapery and other ornaments were of gold.  The\nheight of the figure was forty feet, on a pedestal twelve feet\nhigh.  The god was represented seated on this throne.  His brows\nwere crowned with a wreath of olive, and he held in his right\nhand a sceptre, and in his left a statue of Victory.  The throne\nwas of cedar, adorned with gold and precious stones.\n\nThe idea which the artist essayed to embody was that of the\nsupreme deity of the Hellenic (Grecian) nation, enthroned as a\nconqueror, in perfect majesty and repose, and ruling with a nod\nthe subject world.  Phidias avowed that he took his idea from the\nrepresentation which Homer gives in the first book of the Iliad,\nin the passage thus translated by Pope:\n\n  \"He spoke and awful bends his sable brows,\n  Shakes his ambrosial curls and gives the nod,\n  The stamp of fate and sanction of the god.\n  High heaven with reverence the dread signal took,\n  A nd all Olympus to the centre shook.\"\n\n(Cowper's version is less elegant, but truer to the original.\n\n  \"He ceased, and under his dark brows the nod\n  Vouchsafed of confirmation.  All around\n  The sovereign's everlasting head his curls\n  Ambrosial shook, and the huge mountain reeled.\"\n\nIt may interest our readers to see how this passage appears in\nanother famous version, that which was issued under the name of\nTickell, contemporaneously with Pope's, and which, being by many\nattributed to Addison, led to the quarrel which ensued between\nAddison and Pope.\n\n  \"This said, his kingly brow the sire inclined;\n  The large black curls fell awful from behind,\n  Thick shadowing the stern forehead of the god;\n  Olympus trembled at the almighty nod.\")\n\n\nTHE MINERVA OF THE PARTHENON\n\nThis was also the work of Phidias.  It stood in the Parthenon, or\ntemple of Minera at Athens.  The goddess was represented\nstanding.  In one hand she held a spear, in the other a statue of\nVictory.  Her helmet, highly decorated, was surmounted by a\nSphinx.  The statue was forty feet in height, and, like the\nJupiter, composed of ivory and gold.  The eyes were of marble,\nand probably painted to represent the iris and pupil.  The\nParthenon in which this statue stood was also constructed under\nthe direction and superintendence of Phidias.  Its exterior was\nenriched with sculptures, many of them from the hand of Phidias.\nThe Elgin marbles now in the British Museum are a part of them.\n\nBoth the Jupiter and Minerva of Phidias are lost, but there is\ngood ground to believe that we have, in several extant statues\nand busts, the artist's conceptions of the countenances of both.\nThey are characterized by grave and dignified beauty, and freedom\nfrom any transient expression, which in the language of art is\ncalled REPOSE.\n\n\nTHE VENUS DE' MEDICI\n\nThe Venus of the Medici is so called from its having been in the\npossession of the princes of that name in Rome when it first\nattracted attention, about two hundred years ago.  An inscription\non the base records it to be the work of Cleomenes, an Athenian\nsculptor of 200 B.C., but the authenticity of the inscription is\ndoubtful.  There is a story that the artist was employed by\npublic authority to make a statue exhibiting the perfection of\nfemale beauty, and to aid him in his task, the most perfect forms\nthe city could supply were furnished him for models.  It is this\nwhich Thomson alludes to in his Summer.\n\n  \"So stands the statue that enchants the world;\n  So bending tries to veil the matchless boast,\n  The mingled beauties of exulting Greece.\"\n\nByron also alludes to this statue.  Speaking of the Florence\nMuseum, he says:\n\n  \"There too the goddess loves in stone, and fills\n  The air around with beauty;\"\n\nAnd in the next stanza,\n\n  \"Blood, pulse, and breast confirm the Dardan shepherd's prize.\"\n\nThis last allusion is explained in Chapter XX.\n\n\nTHE APOLLO BELVEDERE\n\nThe most highly esteemed of all the remains of ancient sculpture\nis the statue of Apollo, called the Belvedere, from the name of\nthe apartment of the Pope's palace at Rome, in which it is\nplaced.  The artist is unknown.  It is supposed to be a work of\nRoman art, of about the first century of our era.  It is a\nstanding figure, in marble, more than seven feet high, naked\nexcept for the cloak which is fastened around the neck and hangs\nover the extended left arm.  It is supposed to represent the god\nin the moment when he has shot the arrow to destroy the monster\nPython (See Chapter II).  The victorious divinity is in the act\nof stepping forward.  The left arm which seems to have held the\nbow is outstretched, and the head is turned in the same\ndirection.  In attitude and proportion the graceful majesty of\nthe figure is unsurpassed.  The effect is completed by the\ncountenance, where, on the perfection of youthful godlike beauty\nthere dwells the consciousness of triumphant power.\n\n\nTHE DIANA A LA BICHE\n\nThe Diana of the hind, in the palace of the Louvre, may be\nconsidered the counterpart to the Apollo Belvedere.  The attitude\nmuch resembles that of the Apollo, the sizes correspond and also\nthe style of execution.  It is a work of the highest order,\nthough by no means equal to the Apollo.  The attitude is that of\nhurried and eager motion, the face that of a huntress in the\nexcitement of the chase.  The left hand is extended over the\nforehead of the Hind which runs by her side, the right arm\nreaches backward over the shoulder to draw an arrow from the\nquiver.\n\n\nTHE VENUS OF MELOS\n\nOf the Venus of Melos, perhaps the most famous of our statues of\nmythology, very little is known.  There are many indeed who\nbelieve that it is not a statue of Venus at all.\n\nIt was found in the year 1820 in the Island of Melos by a\npeasant, who sold it to the French consul at the place.  The\nstatue was standing in the theatre, which had been filled up with\nrubbish in the course of centuries, and when discovered was\nbroken in several places, and some of the pieces were gone.\nThese missing pieces, notably the two arms, have been restored in\nvarious ways by modern artists.  As has been said above, there is\na controversy as to whether the statue represents Venus or some\nother goddess.  Much has been written on each side, but the\nquestion still remains unsettled.  The general opinion of those\nwho contend that it is not Venus is that it is a statue or Nike\nor Victory.\n\n\nTHE POETS OF MYTHOLOGY\n\nHomer, from whose poems of the Iliad and Odyssey we have taken\nthe chief part of our chapters of the Trojan war and the return\nof the Grecians, is almost as mythical a personage as the heroes\nhe celebrates.  The traditionary story is that he was a wandering\nminstrel, blind and old, who travelled from place to place\nsinging his lays to the music of his harp, in the courts of\nprinces or the cottages of peasants, and dependent upon the\nvoluntary offerings of his hearers for support.  Byron calls him\n\"The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle,\" and a well-known\nepigram, alluding to the uncertainty of the fact of his\nbirthplace, says,\n\n  \"Seven wealthy towns contend for Homer dead,\n  Through which the living Homer begged his bread.\"\n\nAn older version is,\n\n  \"Seven cities warred for Homer being dead,\n  Who living had no roof to shroud his head.\"\n\nThese lines are by Thomas Heywood; the others are ascribed to\nThomas Seward.\n\nThese seven cities were Smyrna, Scio, Rhodes, Colophon, Salamis,\nArgos, and Athens.\n\nModern scholars have doubted whether the Homeric poems are the\nwork of any single mind.  This arises from the difficulty of\nbelieving that poems of such length could have been committed to\nwriting at so early an age as that usually assigned to these, an\nage earlier than the date of any remaining inscriptions or coins,\nand when no materials, capable of containing such long\nproductions were yet introduced into use.  On the other hand it\nis asked how poems of such length could have been handed down\nfrom age to age by means of the memory alone.  This is answered\nby the statement that there was a professional body of men,\ncalled Rhapsodists, who recited the poems of others, and whose\nbusiness it was to commit to memory and rehearse for pay the\nnational and patriotic legends.\n\nThe prevailing opinion of the learned, at this time, seems to be\nthat the framework and much of the structure of the poems belong\nto Homer, but that there are numerous interpolations and\nadditions by other hands.\n\nThe date assigned to Homer, on the authority of Herodotus, is 850\nB.C., but a range of two or three centuries must be given for the\nvarious conjectures of critics.\n\n\nVIRGIL\n\nVirgil, called also by his surname, Maro, from whose poem of the\nAEneid we have taken the story of AEneas, was one of the great\npoets who made the reign of the Roman emperor, Augustus, so\ncelebrated, under the name of the Augustan age.  Virgil was born\nin Mantua in the year 70 B.C.  His great poem is ranked next to\nthose of Homer, in the highest class of poetical composition, the\nEpic.  Virgil is far inferior to Homer in originality and\ninvention, but superior to him in correctness and elegance.  To\ncritics of English lineage Milton alone of modern poets seems\nworthy to be classed with these illustrious ancients.  His poem\nof Paradise Lost, from which we have borrowed so many\nillustrations, is in many respects equal, in some superior, to\neither of the great works of antiquity.  The following epigram of\nDryden characterizes the three poets with as much truth as it is\nusual to find in such pointed criticism:\n\n  ON MILTON\n\n  \"Three poets in three different ages born.\n  Greece, Italy, and England did adorn.\n  The first in loftiness of soul surpassed,\n  The next in majesty, in both the last.\n  The force of nature could no further go;\n  To make a third she joined the other two.\"\n\nFrom Cowper's Table Talk:\n\n  \"Ages elapsed ere Homer's lamp appeared,\n  And ages ere the Mantuan swan was heard.\n  To carry nature lengths unknown before,\n  To give a Milton birth, asked ages more.\n  Thus genius rose and set at ordered times,\n  And shot a dayspring into distant climes,\n  Ennobling every region that he chose;\n  He sunk in Greece, in Italy he rose,\n  And, tedious years of Gothic darkness past,\n  Emerged all splendor in our isle at last.\n  Thus lovely halcyons dive into the main,\n  Then show far off their shining plumes again.\"\n\n\nOVID\n\nOften alluded to in poetry by his other name of Naso, was born in\nthe year 43 B.C.  He was educated for public life and held some\noffices of considerable dignity, but poetry was his delight, and\nhe early resolved to devote himself to it.  He accordingly sought\nthe society of the contemporary poets, and was acquainted with\nHorace and saw Virgil, though the latter died when Ovid was yet\ntoo young and undistinguished to have formed his acquaintance.\nOvid spent an easy life at Rome in the enjoyment of a competent\nincome.  He was intimate with the family of Augustus, the\nemperor, and it is supposed that some serious offence given to\nsome member of that family was the cause of an event which\nreversed the poet's happy circumstances and clouded all the\nlatter portion of his life.  At the age of fifty he was banished\nfrom Rome, and ordered to betake himself to Tomi, on the borders\nof the Black Sea.  Here, among the barbarous people and in a\nsevere climate, the poet, who had been accustomed to all the\npleasures of a luxurious capital and the society of his most\ndistinguished contemporaries, spent the last ten years of his\nlife, worn out with grief and anxiety.  His only consolation in\nexile was to address his wife and absent friends, and his letters\nwere all poetical.  Though these poems (The Tristia and Letters\nfrom Pontus) have no other topic than the poet's sorrows, his\nexquisite taste and fruitful invention have redeemed them from\nthe charge of being tedious, and they are read with pleasure and\neven with sympathy.\n\nThe two great works of Ovid are his Metamorphoses and his Fasti.\nThey are both mythological poems, and from the former we have\ntaken most of our stories of Grecian and Roman mythology.  A late\nwriter thus characterizes these poems:\n\n\"The rich mythology of Greece furnished Ovid, as it may\nstill furnish the poet, the painter, and the sculptor, with\nmaterials for his art.  With exquisite taste, simplicity, and\npathos he has narrated the fabulous traditions of early ages, and\ngiven to them that appearance of reality which only a master-hand\ncould impart.  His pictures of nature are striking and true; he\nselects with care that which is appropriate; he rejects the\nsuperfluous; and when he has completed his work, it is neither\ndefective nor redundant.  The Metamorphoses are read with\npleasure by youth, and are re-read in more advanced age with\nstill greater delight.  The poet ventured to predict that his\npoem would survive him, and be read wherever the Roman name was\nknown.\"\n\nThe prediction above alluded to is contained in the closing lines\nof the Metamorphoses, of which we give a literal translation\nbelow:\n\n  \"And now I close my work, which not the ire\n  Of Jove, nor tooth of time, nor sword, nor fire\n  Shall bring to nought.  Come when it will that day\n  Which o'er the body, not the mind, has sway,\n  A nd snatch the remnant of my life away,\n  My better part above the stars shall soar,\n  And my renown endure for evermore.\n  Where'er the Roman arms and arts shall spread,\n  There by the people shall my book be read;\n  And, if aught true in poet's visions be,\n  My name and fame have immortality.\"\n\n\n\nChapter XXIX\n\nModern Monsters:   The Phoenix   Basilisk   Unicorn   Salamander\n\nThere is a set of imaginary beings which seem to have been the\nsuccessors of the \"Gorgons, Hydras, and Chimeras dire\" of the old\nsuperstitions, and, having no connection with the false gods of\nPaganism, to have continued to enjoy an existence in the popular\nbelief after Paganism was superseded by Christianity.  They are\nmentioned perhaps by the classical writers, but their chief\npopularity and currency seem to have been in more modern times.\nWe seek our accounts of them not so much in the poetry of the\nancients, as in the old natural history books and narrations of\ntravellers.  The accounts which we are about to give are taken\nchiefly from the Penny Cyclopedia.\n\n\nTHE PHOENIX\n\nOvid tells the story of the Phoenix as follows: \"Most beings\nspring from other individuals; but there is a certain kind which\nreproduces itself.  The Assyrians call it the Phoenix.  It does\nnot live on fruit or flowers, but on frankincense and odoriferous\ngums.  When it has lived five hundred years, it builds itself a\nnest in the branches of an oak, or on the top of a palm-tree.  In\nthis it collects cinnamon, and spikenard, and myrrh, and of these\nmaterials builds a pile on which it deposits itself, and dying,\nbreathes out its last breath amidst odors.  From the body of the\nparent bird a young Phoenix issues forth, destined to live as\nlong a life as its predecessor.  When this has grown up and\ngained sufficient strength, it lifts its nest from the tree (its\nown cradle and its parent's sepulchre) and carries it to the city\nof Heliopolis in Egypt, and deposits it in the temple of the\nSun.\"\n\nSuch is the account given by a poet.  Now let us see that of a\nphilosophic historian.  Tacitus says, \"In the consulship of\nPaulus Fabius (A.D. 34), the miraculous bird known to the world\nby the name of Phoenix, after disappearing for a series of ages,\nrevisited Egypt.  It was attended in its flight by a group of\nvarious birds, all attracted by the novelty, and gazing with\nwonder at so beautiful an appearance.\"  He then gives an account\nof the bird, not varying materially from the preceding, but\nadding some details.  \"The first care of the young bird as soon\nas fledged and able to trust to his wings is to perform the\nobsequies of his father.  But this duty is not undertaken rashly.\nHe collects a quantity of myrrh, and to try his strength makes\nfrequent excursions with a load on his back.  When he has gained\nsufficient confidence in his own vigor, he takes up the body of\nhis father and flies with it to the altar of the Sun, where he\nleaves it to be consumed in flames of fragrance.\"  Other writers\nadd a few particulars.  The myrrh is compacted in the form of an\negg, in which the dead Phoenix is enclosed.  From the mouldering\nflesh of the dead bird a worm springs, and this worm, when grown\nlarge, is transformed into a bird.  Herodotus DESCRIBES the bird,\nthough he says, \"I have not seen it myself, except in a picture.\nPart of his plumage is gold-colored, and part crimson; and he is\nfor the most part very much like an eagle in outline and bulk.\"\n\nThe first writer who disclaimed a belief in the existence of the\nPhoenix was Sir Thomas Browne, in his Vulgar Errors, published in\n1646.  He was replied to a few years later by Alexander Ross, who\nsays, in answer to the objection of the Phoenix so seldom making\nhis appearance, \"His instinct teaches him to keep out of the way\nof the tyrant of the creation, MAN, for if he were to be got at\nsome wealthy glutton would surely devour him, though there were\nno more in the world.\"\n\nDryden, in one of his early poems, has this allusion to the\nPhoenix:\n\n  \"So when the new-born Phoenix first is seen,\n  Her feathered subjects all adore their queen,\n  And while she makes her progress through the East,\n  From every grove her numerous train's increased;\n  Each poet of the air her glory sings,\n  And round him the pleased audience clap their wings.\"\n\nMilton, in Paradise lost, Book V, compares the angel Raphael\ndescending to earth to a Phoenix:\n\n  \"Down thither, prone in flight\n  He speeds, and through the vast ethereal sky\n  Sails between worlds and worlds, with steady wing,\n  Now on the polar winds, then with quick fan\n  Winnows the buxom air; till within soar\n  Of towering eagles, to all the fowls he seems\n  A Phoenix, gazed by all; as that sole bird\n  When, to enshrine his relics in the Sun's\n  Bright temple, to Egyptian Thebes he flies.\"\n\n\nTHE COCKATRICE, OR BASILISK\n\nThis animal was called the king of the serpents.  In confirmation\nof his royalty, he was said to be endowed with a crest or comb\nupon the head, constituting a crown.  He was supposed to be\nproduced from the egg of a cock hatched under toads or serpents.\nThere were several species of this animal.  One species burned up\nwhatever they approached; a second were a kind of wandering\nMedusa's heads, and their look caused an instant horror, which\nwas immediately followed by death.  In Shakespeare's play of\nRichard the Third, Lady Anne, in answer to Richard's compliment\non her eyes, says, \"Would they were basilisk's, to strike thee\ndead!\"\n\nThe basilisks were called kings of serpents because all other\nserpents and snakes, behaving like good subjects, and wisely not\nwishing to be burned up or struck dead, fled the moment they\nheard the distant hiss of their king, although they might be in\nfull feed upon the most delicious prey, leaving the sole\nenjoyment of the banquet to the royal monster.\n\nThe Roman naturalist Pliny thus describes him: \"He does not impel\nhis body like other serpents, by a multiplied flexion, but\nadvances lofty and upright.  He kills the shrubs, not only by\ncontact but by breathing on them, and splits the rocks, such\npower of evil is there in him. It was formally believed that if\nkilled by a spear from on horseback the power of the poison\nconducted through the weapon killed not only the rider but the\nhorse also.  To this Lucan alludes in these lines:\n\n  \"What though the Moor the basilisk hath slain,\n  And pinned him lifeless to the sandy plain,\n  Up through the spear the subtle venom flies,\n  The hand imbibes it, and the victor dies.\"\n\nSuch a prodigy was not likely to be passed over in the legends of\nthe saints.  Accordingly we find it recorded that a certain holy\nman going to a fountain in the desert suddenly beheld a basilisk.\nHe immediately raised his eyes to heaven, and with a pious appeal\nto the Deity, laid the monster dead at his feet.\n\nThese wonderful powers of the basilisk are attested by a host of\nlearned persons, such as Galen, Avicenna, Scaliger, and others.\nOccasionally one would demur to some part of the tale while he\nadmitted the rest.  Jonston, a learned physician, sagely remarks,\n\"I would scarcely believe that it kills with its look, for who\ncould have seen it and lived to tell the story?\"  The worthy sage\nwas not aware that those who went to hunt the basilisk of this\nsort, took with them a mirror, which reflected back the deadly\nglare upon its author, and by a kind of poetical justice slew the\nbasilisk with his own weapon.\n\nBut what was to attack this terrible and unapproachable monster?\nThere is an old saying that \"everything has its enemy,\" and the\ncockatrice quailed before the weasel.  The basilisk might look\ndaggers, the weasel cared not, but advanced boldly to the\nconflict.  When bitten, the weasel retired for a moment to eat\nsome rue, which was the only plant the basilisks could not\nwither, returned with renewed strength and soundness to the\ncharge, and never left the enemy till he was stretched dead on\nthe plain.  The monster, too, as if conscious of the irregular\nway in which he came into the world, was supposed to have a great\nantipathy to a cock; and well he might, for as soon as he heard\nthe cock crow he expired.\n\nThe basilisk was of some use after death.  Thus we read that its\ncarcass was suspended in the temple of Apollo, and in private\nhouses, as a sovereign remedy against spiders, and that it was\nalso hung up in the temple of Diana, for which reason no swallow\never dared enter the sacred place.\n\nThe reader will, we apprehend, by this time have had enough of\nabsurdities, but still he may be interested to know that these\ndetails come from the work of one who was considered in his time\nan able and valuable writer on Natural History.  Ulysses\nAldrovandus was a celebrated naturalist of the sixteenth century,\nand his work on natural history, in thirteen folio volumes,\ncontains with much that is valuable a large proportion of fables\nand inutilities.  In particular he is so ample on the subject of\nthe cock and the bull, that from his practice all rambling,\ngossiping tales of doubtful credibility are called COCK AND BULL\nSTORIES.  Still he is to be remembered with respect as the\nfounder of a botanic garden, and one of the leaders in the modern\nhabit of making scientific collections for research and inquiry.\n\nShelley, in his Ode to Naples, full of the enthusiasm excited by\nthe intelligence of the proclamation of a Constitutional\nGovernment at Naples, in 1820, thus uses an allusion to the\nbasilisk:\n\n  \"What though Cimmerian anarchs dare blaspheme\n  Freedom and thee?  A new Actaeon's error\n  Shall theirs have been,   devoured by their own bounds!\n  Be thou like the imperial basilisk,\n  Killing thy foe with unapparent wounds!\n  Gaze on oppression, till at that dread risk,\n  Aghast she pass from the earth's disk.\n  Fear not, but gaze,   for freemen mightier grow,\n  And slaves more feeble, gazing on their foe.\"\n\n\nTHE UNICORN\n\nPliny, the Roman naturalist, out of whose account of the unicorn\nmost of the modern unicorns have been described and figured,\nrecords it as \"a very ferocious beast, similar in the rest of its\nbody to a horse, with the head of a deer, the feet of an\nelephant, the tail of a boar, a deep bellowing voice, and a\nsingle black horn, two cubits in length, standing out in the\nmiddle of its forehead.\"  He adds that \"it cannot be taken\nalive;\" and some such excuse may have been necessary in those\ndays for not producing the living animal upon the arena of the\namphitheatre.\n\nThe unicorn seems to have been a sad puzzle to the hunters, who\nhardly knew how to come at so valuable a piece of game.  Some\ndescribed the horn as moveable at the will of the animal, a kind\nof small sword in short, with which ho hunter who was not\nexceedingly cunning in fence could have a chance.  Others\nmaintained that all the animal's strength lay in its horn, and\nthat when hard pressed in pursuit, it would throw itself from the\npinnacle of the highest rocks horn foremost, so as to pitch upon\nit, and then quietly march off not a whit the worse for its fall.\n\nBut it seems they found out how to circumvent the poor unicorn at\nlast.  They discovered that it was a great lover of purity and\ninnocence, so they took the field with a young VIRGIN, who was\nplaced in the unsuspecting admirer's way.  When the unicorn spied\nher, he approached with all reverence, couched beside her, and\nlaying his head in her lap, fell asleep.  The treacherous virgin\nthen gave a signal, and the hunters made in and captured the\nsimple beast.\n\nModern zoologists, disgusted as they well may be with such fables\nas these, disbelieve generally the existence of the unicorn.  Yet\nthere are animals bearing on their heads a bony protuberance more\nor less like a horn, which may have given rise to the story.  The\nrhinoceros horn, as it is called, is such a protuberance, though\nit does not exceed a few inches in height, and is far from\nagreeing with the descriptions of the horn of the unicorn.  The\nnearest approach to a horn in the middle of the forehead is\nexhibited in the bony protuberance on the forehead of the\ngiraffe; but this also is short and blunt, and is not the only\nhorn of the animal, but a third horn standing in front of the two\nothers.  In fine, though it would be presumptuous to deny the\nexistence of a one-horned quadruped other than the rhinoceros, it\nmay be safely stated that the insertion of a long and solid horn\nin the living forehead of a horse-like or deer-like animal, is as\nnear an impossibility as any thing can be.\n\n\nTHE SALAMANDER\n\nThe following is from the Life of Benvenuto Cellini, an Italian\nartist of the sixteenth century, written by himself, \"When I was\nabout five years of age, my father happening to be in a little\nroom in which they had been washing, and where there was a good\nfire of oak burning, looked into the flames and saw a little\nanimal resembling a lizard, which could live in the hottest part\nof that element.  Instantly perceiving what it was he called for\nmy sister and me, and after he had shown us the creature, he gave\nme a box on the ear.  I fell a crying, while he, soothing me with\ncaresses, spoke these words: 'My dear child, I do not give you\nthat blow for any fault you have committed, but that you may\nrecollect that the little creature you see in the fire is a\nsalamander; such a one as never was beheld before to my\nknowledge.'  So saying he embraced me, and gave me some money.\"\n\nIt seems unreasonable to doubt a story of which signor Cellini\nwas both an eye and ear witness.  Add to which the authority of\nnumerous sage philosophers, at the head of whom are Aristotle and\nPliny, affirms this power of the salamander.  According to them,\nthe animal not only resists fire, but extinguishes it, and when\nhe sees the flame, charges it as an enemy which he well knows how\nto vanquish.\n\nThat the skin of an animal which could resist the action of fire\nshould be considered proof against that element, is not to be\nwondered at.  We accordingly find that a cloth made of the skins\nof salamanders (for there really is such an animal, a kind of\nlizard) was incombustible, and very valuable for wrapping up such\narticles as were too precious to be intrusted to any other\nenvelopes.  These fire-proof cloths were actually produced, said\nto be made of salamander's wool, though the knowing ones detected\nthat the substance of which they were composed was Asbestos, a\nmineral, which is in fine filaments capable of being woven into a\nflexible cloth.\n\nThe foundation of the above fables is supposed to be the fact\nthat the salamander really does secrete from the pores of his\nbody a milky juice, which, when he is irritated, is produced in\nconsiderable quantity, and would doubtless, for a few moments,\ndefend the body from fire.  Then it is a hibernating animal, and\nin winter retires to some hollow tree or other cavity, where it\ncoils itself up and remains in a torpid state till the spring\nagain calls it forth.  It may therefore sometimes be carried with\nthe fuel to the fire, and wake up only time enough to put forth\nall its faculties for its defence.  Its viscous juice would do\ngood service, and all who profess to have seen it acknowledge\nthat it got out of the fire as fast as its legs could carry it;\nindeed too fast for them ever to make prize of one, except in one\ninstance, and in that one, the animal's feet and some parts of\nits body were badly burned.\n\nDr. Young, in the Night Thoughts, with more quaintness than good\ntaste, compares the sceptic who can remain unmoved in the\ncontemplation of the starry heavens, to a salamander unwarmed in\nthe fire:\n\n  \"An undevout astronomer is mad!\n  *    *    *    *    *    *\n  Oh, what a genius must inform the skies!\n  And is Lorenzo's salamander-heart\n  Cold and untouched amid these sacred fires?\"\n\n\n\nChapter XXX\n\nEastern Mythology   Zoroaster   Hindu Mythology   Castes   Buddha\nGrand Lama\n\nDuring the last fifty years new attention has been paid to the\nsystems of religion of the Eastern world, especially to that of\nZoroaster among the Persians, and that which is called Brahmanism\nand the rival system known as Buddhism in the nations farther\neast.  Especial interest belongs to these inquiries for us,\nbecause these religions are religions of the great Aryan race to\nwhich we belong.  The people among whom they were introduced all\nused some dialect of the family of language to which our own\nbelongs.  Even young readers will take an interest in such books\nas Clarke's Great Religions and Johnson's Oriental Religions,\nwhich are devoted to careful studies of them.\n\nOur knowledge of the religion of the ancient Persians is\nprincipally derived from the Zendavesta, or sacred books of that\npeople.  Zoroaster was the founder of their religion, or rather\nthe reformer of the religion which preceded him. The time when he\nlived is doubtful, but it is certain that his system became the\ndominant religion of Western Asia from the time of Cyrus (550\nB.C.) to the conquest of Persia by Alexander the Great.  Under\nthe Macedonian monarchy the doctrines of Zoroaster appear to have\nbeen considerably corrupted by the introduction of foreign\nopinions, but they afterwards recovered their ascendancy.\n\nZoroaster taught the existence of a supreme being, who created\ntwo other mighty beings, and imparted to them so much of his own\nnature as seemed good to him.  Of these, Ormuzd (called by the\nGreeks Oromasdes) remained faithful to his creator, and was\nregarded as the source of all good, while Ahriman (Arimanes)\nrebelled, and became the author of all evil upon the earth.\nOrmuzd created man, and supplied him with all the materials of\nhappiness; but Ahriman marred this happiness by introducing evil\ninto the world, and creating savage beasts and poisonous reptiles\nand plants.  In consequence of this, evil and good are now\nmingled together in every part of the world, and the followers of\ngood and evil   the adherents of Ormuzd and Ahriman   carry on\nincessant war.  But this state of things will not last forever.\nThe time will come when the adherents of Ormuzd shall everywhere\nbe victorious, and Ahriman and his followers be consigned to\ndarkness forever.\n\nThe religious rites of the ancient Persians were exceedingly\nsimple.  They used neither temples, altars, nor statues, and\nperformed their sacrifices on the tops of mountains.  They adored\nfire, light, and the sun, as emblems of Ormuzd, the source of all\nlight and purity, but did not regard them as independent deities.\nThe religious rites and ceremonies were regulated by the priests,\nwho were called Magi.  The learning of the Magi was connected\nwith astrology and enchantment, in which they were so celebrated\nthat their name was applied to all orders of magicians and\nenchanters.\n\n\"As to the age of the books of the Zendavesta, and the period at\nwhich Zoroaster lived, there is the greatest difference of\nopinion.  He is mentioned by Plato, who speaks of 'the magic (or\nreligious doctrines) of Zoroaster the Ormazdian.'  As Plato\nspeaks of his religion as something established in the form of\nMagism, or the system of the Medes in West Iran, which the Avesta\nappears to have originated in Bactria, or East Iran, this already\ncarries the age of Zoroaster back to at least the sixth or\nseventh century before Christ.\n\n     *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *\n\n\"Professor Whitney of New Haven places the epoch of Zoroaster at\n'least B.C. 1000,' and adds that all attempts to reconstruct\nPersian chronology or history prior to the reign of the first\nSassanid have been relinquished as futile.  Dollinger thinks he\nmay have been 'somewhat later than Moses, perhaps about B.C.\n1300,' but says 'it is impossible to fix precisely' when he\nlived.  Rawlinson merely remarks that Berosus places him anterior\nto B.C. 2234.  Haug is inclined to date the Gathas, the oldest\nsongs of the Avesta, as early as the time of Moses.  Rapp, after\na thorough comparison of ancient writers, concludes that\nZoroaster lived B.C. 1200 or 1300.  In this he agrees with\nDuncker, who, as we have seen, decided upon the same date.  It is\nnot far from the period given by the oldest Greek writer who\nspeaks of Zoroaster,   Xanthus of Sardis, a contemporary of\nDarius.  It is the period given by Cephalion, a writer of the\nsecond century, who takes it from three independent sources.  We\nhave no sources now open to us which enable us to come nearer\nthan this to the time in which he lived.\n\n\"Nor is anything known with certainty of the place where he\nlived, or the events of his life.  Most modern writers suppose\nthat he resided in Bactria.  Haug maintains that the language of\nthe Zend books is Bactrian.  A highly mythological and fabulous\nlife of Zoroaster, translated by Anquetil du Perron, called the\nZartrisht-Namah, describes him as going to Iran in his thirtieth\nyear, spending twenty years in the desert, working miracles\nduring ten years, and giving lessons of philosophy in Babylon,\nwith Pythagoras as his pupil.  All this is based on the theory\n(now proved to be false) of his living in the time of Darius.\n'The language of the Avesta,' says Max Muller, 'is so much more\nprimitive than the inscriptions of Darius, that many centuries\nmust have passed between the two periods represented by these two\nstrata of language.  These inscriptions are in the Achaemenian\ndialect, which is the Zend in a later stage of linguistic\ngrowth.;\"\n\nJ. Freeman Clarke - Ten Great Religions\n\nWordsworth thus alludes to the worship of the Persians:\n\n  \"the Persian, zealous to reject\n  Altar and Image, and the inclusive walls\n  And roofs of temples built by human hands,\n  The loftiest heights ascending from their tops,\n  With myrtle-wreathed Tiara on his brows,\n  Presented sacrifice to Moon and Stars\n  And to the Winds and mother Elements,\n  And the whole circle of the Heavens, for him\n  A sensitive existence and a God.\"\n       Excursion, Book IV\n\nIn Childe Harold, Byron speaks thus of the Persian worship:\n\n  \"Not gainly did the early Persian make\n  His altar the high places and the peak\n  Of earth o'ergazing mountains, and thus take\n  A fit and unwalled temple, there to seek\n  The Spirit, in whose honor shrines are weak,\n  Upreared of human hands.  Come and compare\n  Columns and idol-dwellings, Goth or Greek,\n  With Nature's realms of worship, earth and air,\n  Nor fix on fond abodes to circumscribe thy prayer.\"\n  III., 91.\n\nThe religion of Zoroaster continued to flourish even after the\nintroduction of Christianity, and in the third century was the\ndominant faith of the East, till the rise of the Mahometan power\nand the conquest of Persia by the Arabs in the seventh century,\nwho compelled the greater number of the Persians to renounce\ntheir ancient faith.  Those who refused to abandon the religion\nof their ancestors fled to the deserts of Kerman and to\nHindustan, where they still exist under the name of Parsees, a\nname derived from Pars, the ancient name of Persia.  The Arabs\ncall them Guebers, from an Arabic word signifying unbelievers.\nAt Bombay the Parsees are at this day a very active, intelligent,\nand wealthy class.  For purity of life, honesty, and conciliatory\nmanners, they are favorably distinguished.  They have numerous\ntemples to Fire, which they adore as the symbol of the divinity.\n\nThe Persian religion makes the subject of the finest tale in\nMoore's Lalla Rookh, the Fire Worshippers.  The Gueber chief\nsays:\n\n  \"Yes!  I am of that impious race,\n  Those slaves of Fire, that moan and even\n  Hail their creator's dwelling place\n  Among the living lights of heaven;\n  Yes!  I am of that outcast crew\n  To lean and to vengeance true,\n  Who curse the hour your Arabs came\n  To desecrate our shrines of flame,\n  And swear before God's burning eye,\n  To break our country's chains or die.\"\n\n\nHINDU MYTHOLOGY\n\nThe religion of the Hindus is professedly founded on the Vedas.\nTo these books of their scripture they attach the greatest\nsanctity, and state that Brahma himself composed them at the\ncreation.  But the present arrangement of the Vedas is attributed\nto the sage Vyasa, about five thousand years ago.\n\nThe Vedas undoubtedly teach the belief of one supreme God.  The\nname of this deity is Brahma.  His attributes are represented by\nthe three personified powers of CREATION, PRESERVATION, and\nDESTRUCTION, which, under the respective names of Brahma, Vishnu,\nand Siva, form the TRIMURTI or triad of principal Hindu gods.  Of\nthe inferior gods the most important are, 1. Indra, the god of\nheaven, of thunder, lightning, storm, and rain; 2. Agni, the god\nof fire; 3. Yana, the god of the infernal regions; 4. Surya, the\ngod of the sun.\n\nBrahma is the creator of the universe, and the source from which\nall the individual deities have sprung, and into which all will\nultimately be absorbed.  \"As milk changes to curd, and water to\nice, so is Brahma variously transformed and diversified, without\naid of exterior means of any sort.  The human soul, according to\nthe Vedas, is a portion of the supreme ruler, as a spark is of\nthe fire.\n\n\"BRAHMA, at first a word meaning prayer and devotion, becomes in\nthe laws of Manu the primal God, first-born of the creation, from\nthe self-existent being, in the form of a golden egg.  He became\nthe creator of all things by the power of prayer.  In the\nstruggle for ascendancy, which took place between the priests and\nthe warriors, Brahma naturally became the deity of the former.\nBut, meantime, as we have seen, the worship or Vishnu had been\nextending itself in one region, and that of Siva in another.\nThen took place those mysterious wars between the kings of the\nSolar and Lunar races, of which the great epics contain all that\nwe know.  And at the close of these wars a compromise was\napparently accepted, by which Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva were\nunited in one supreme God, as creator, preserver, and destroyer,\nall in one.\n\nIt is almost certain that this Hindoo Triad was the result of an\ningenious and successful attempt, on the part of the Brahmans, to\nunite all classes of worshippers in India against the Buddhists.\nIn this sense the Brahmans edited anew the Mahabharata, inserting\nin that epic passages extolling Vishnu in the form of Krishna.\nThe Greek accounts of India which followed the invasion of\nAlexander speak of the worship of Hercules as prevalent in the\nEast, and by Hercules they apparently mean the god Krishna.  The\nstruggle between the Brahmans and Buddhists lasted during nine\ncenturies (from A.D. 500 to A.D. 1400), ending with the total\nexpulsion of Buddhism and the triumphant establishment of the\nTriad as the worship of India.\n\n\"Before this Triad or Trimurti (of Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva)\nthere seems to have been another, consisting of Agni, Indra, and\nSurya.  This may have given the hint of the second Triad, which\ndistributed among the three gods the attributes or Creation,\nDestruction, and Renovation.  Of these Brahma, the creator,\nceased soon to be popular, and the worship of Siva and Vishnu as\nKrishna remain as the popular religion of India. . . ..\n\n\"But all the efforts of Brahmanism could not arrest the natural\ndevelopment of the system.  It passed on into polytheism and\nidolatry.  The worship of India for many centuries has been\ndivided into a multitude of sects.  While the majority of the\nBrahmans still profess to recognize the equal divinity of Brahma,\nVishnu, and Siva, the mass of the people worship Krishna, Rama,\nthe Singam, and many other gods and idols.  There are Hindoo\nAtheists, who revile the Vedas; there are the Kabirs, who are a\nsort of Hindoo Quakers, and oppose all worship; the RAMANUJAS, an\nancient sect of Vishnu worshippers; the RAMAVATS, living in\nmonasteries; the PANTHIS, who oppose all austerities; the\nMAHARAJAS, whose religion consists with great licentiousness.\nMost of these are worshippers of Vishnu or of Siva, for Brahma-\nworship has wholly disappeared.\"  J. Freeman Clarke.  TEN GREAT\nRELIGIONS.\n\n\nVISHNU\n\nVishnu occupies the second place in the triad of the Hindus, and\nis the personification of the preserving principle.  To protect\nthe world in various epochs of danger, Vishnu descended to the\nearth in different incarnations, or bodily forms, which descents\nare called Avatars.  They are very numerous, but ten are more\nparticularly specified.  The first Avatar was as Matsya, the\nFish, under which form Vishnu preserved Manu, the ancestor of the\nhuman race, during a universal deluge.  The second Avatar was in\nthe form of a Tortoise, which form he assumed to support the\nearth when the gods were churning the sea for the beverage of\nimmortality, Amrita.\n\nWe may omit the other Avatars, which were of the same general\ncharacter, that is, interpositions to protect the right or to\npunish wrong-doers, and come to the ninth, which is the most\ncelebrated of the Avatars of Vishnu, in which he appeared in the\nhuman form of Krishna, an invincible warrior, who by his exploits\nrelieved the earth from the tyrants who oppressed it.\n\nBuddha is by the followers of the Brahmanical religion regarded\nas a delusive incarnation of Vishnu, assumed by him in order to\ninduce the Asuras, opponents of the gods, to abandon the sacred\nordinances of the Vedas, by which means they lost their strength\nand supremacy.\n\nKalki is the name of the TENTH Avatar, in which Vishnu will\nappear at the end of the present age of the world to destroy all\nvice and wickedness, and to restore mankind to virtue and purity.\n\n\nSIVA\n\nSiva is the third person of the Hindu triad.  He is the\npersonification of the destroying principle.  Though the third\nnamed, he is, in respect to the number of his worshippers and the\nextension of his worship, before either of the others.  In the\nPuranas (the scriptures of the modern Hindu religion) no allusion\nis made to the original power of this god as a destroyer; as that\npower is not to be called into exercise till after the expiration\nof twelve millions of years, or when the universe will come to an\nend; and Mahadeva (another name for Siva) is rather the\nrepresentative of regeneration than of destruction.\n\nThe worshippers of Vishnu and Siva form two sects, each of which\nproclaims the superiority of its favorite deity, denying the\nclaims of the other, and Brahma, the creator, having finished his\nwork, seems to be regarded as no longer active, and has now only\none temple in India, while Mahadeva and Vishnu have many.  The\nworshippers of Vishnu are generally distinguished by a greater\ntenderness for life and consequent abstinence from animal food,\nand a worship less cruel than that of the followers of Siva.\n\n\nJUGGERNAUT\n\nWhether the worshippers of Juggernaut are to be reckoned among\nthe followers of Vishnu or Siva, our authorities differ.  The\ntemple stands near the shore, about three hundred miles southwest\nof Calcutta.  The idol is a carved block of wood, with a hideous\nface, painted black, and a distended blood-red mouth.  On\nfestival days the throne of the image is placed on a tower sixty\nfeet high, moving on wheels.  Six long ropes are attached to the\ntower, by which the people draw it along.  The priests and their\nattendants stand round the throne on the tower, and occasionally\nturn to the worshippers with songs and gestures.  While the tower\nmoves along numbers of the devout worshippers throw themselves on\nthe ground, in order to be crushed by the wheels, and the\nmultitude shout in approbation of the act, as a pleasing\nsacrifice to the idol.  Every year, particularly at two great\nfestivals in March and July, pilgrims flock in crowds to the\ntemple.  Not less than seventy or eighty thousand people are said\nto visit the place on these occasions, when all castes eat\ntogether.\n\n\nCASTES\n\nThe division of the Hindus into classes or castes, with fixed\noccupations, existed from the earliest times.  It is supposed by\nsome to have been founded upon conquest, the first three castes\nbeing composed of a foreign race, who subdued the natives of the\ncountry and reduced them to an inferior caste.  Others trace it\nto the fondness of perpetuating, by descent from father to son,\ncertain offices or occupations.\n\nThe Hindu tradition gives the following account of the origin of\nthe various castes.  At the creation Brahma resolved to give the\nearth inhabitants who should be direct emanations from his own\nbody.  Accordingly from his mouth came forth the eldest born,\nBrahma (the priest), to whom he confided the four Vedas; from his\nright arm issued Shatriya (the warrior), and from his left, the\nwarrior's wife.  His thighs produced Vaissyas, male and female\n(agriculturists and traders), and lastly from his feet sprang\nSudras (mechanics and laborers).\n\nThe four sons of Brahma, so significantly brought into the world,\nbecame the fathers of the human race, and heads of their\nrespective castes.  They were commanded to regard the four Vedas\nas containing all the rules of their faith, and all that was\nnecessary to guide them in their religious ceremonies.  They were\nalso commanded to take rank in the order of their birth, the\nBrahmans uppermost, as having sprung from the head of Brahma.\n\nA strong line of demarcation is drawn between the first three\ncastes and the Sudras.  The former are allowed to receive\ninstruction from the Vedas, which is not permitted to the Sudras.\nThe Brahmans possess the privilege of teaching the Vedas, and\nwere in former times in exclusive possession of all knowledge.\nThough the sovereign of the country was chosen from the Shatriya\nclass, also called Rajputs, the Brahmans possessed the real\npower, and were the royal counsellors, the judges and magistrates\nof the country; their persons and property were inviolable; and\nthough they committed the greatest crimes, they could only be\nbanished from the kingdom.  They were to be treated by sovereigns\nwith the greatest respect, for \"a Brahman, whether learned or\nignorant, is a powerful divinity.\"\n\nWhen the Brahman arrives at years of maturity it becomes his duty\nto marry.  He ought to be supported by the contributions of the\nrich, and not to be obliged to gain his subsistence by any\nlaborious or productive occupation.  But as all the Brahmans\ncould not he maintained by the working classes of the community,\nit was found necessary to allow them to engage in productive\nemployments.\n\nWe need say little of the two intermediate classes, whose rank\nand privileges may be readily inferred from their occupations.\nThe Sudras or fourth class are bound to servile attendance on the\nhigher classes, especially the Brahmans, but they may follow\nmechanical occupations and practical arts, as painting and\nwriting, or become traders or husbandmen.  Consequently they\nsometimes grow rich, and it will also sometimes happen that\nBrahmans become poor.  That fact works its usual consequence, and\nrich Sudras sometimes employ poor Brahmans in menial occupations.\n\nThere is another class lower even than the Sudras, for it is not\none of the original pure classes, but springs from an\nunauthorized union of individuals of different castes.  These are\nthe Pariahs, who are employed in the lowest services and treated\nwith the utmost severity.  They are compelled to do what no one\nelse can do without pollution.  They are not only considered\nunclean themselves, but they render unclean every thing they\ntouch.  They are deprived of all civil rights, and stigmatized by\nparticular laws, regulating their mode of life, their houses and\ntheir furniture.  They are not allowed to visit the pagodas or\ntemples of the other castes, but have their own pagodas and\nreligious exercises.  They are not suffered to enter the houses\nof the other castes; if it is done incautiously or from\nnecessity, the place must be purified by religious ceremonies.\nThey must not appear at public markets, and are confined to the\nuse of particular wells, which they are obliged to surround with\nbones of animals, to warn others against using them.  They dwell\nin miserable hovels, distant from cities and villages, and are\nunder no restrictions in regard to food, which last is not a\nprivilege, but a mark of ignominy, as if they were so degraded\nthat nothing could pollute them.  The three higher castes are\nprohibited entirely the use of flesh.  The fourth is allowed to\neat all kinds except beef, but only the lowest caste is allowed\nevery kind of food without restrictions.\n\n\nBUDDHA\n\nBuddha, whom the Vedas represent as a delusive incarnation of\nVishnu, is said by his followers to have been a mortal sage,\nwhose name was Gautama, called also by the complimentary epithets\nof Sakyasinha, the Lion, and Buddha, the Sage.\n\nBy a comparison of the various epochs assigned to his birth, it\nis inferred that he lived about one thousand years before Christ.\n\nHe was the son of a king; and when in conformity to the usage of\nthe country he was, a few days after his birth, presented before\nthe altar of a deity, the image is said to have inclined its\nhead, as a presage of the future greatness of the new-born\nprophet.  The child soon developed faculties of the first order,\nand became equally distinguished by the uncommon beauty of his\nperson.  No sooner had he grown to years of maturity than he\nbegan to reflect deeply on the depravity and misery of mankind,\nand he conceived the idea of retiring from society and devoting\nhimself to meditation.  His father in vain opposed this design.\nBuddha escaped the vigilance of his guards, and having found a\nsecure retreat, lived for six years undisturbed in his devout\ncontemplations.  At the expiration of that period he came forward\nat Benares as a religious teacher.  At first some who heard him\ndoubted of the soundness of his mind; but his doctrines soon\ngained credit, and were propagated so rapidly that Buddha himself\nlived to see them spread all over India.\n\nThe young prince distinguished himself by his personal and\nintellectual qualities, but still more by his early piety.  It\nappears from the laws of Manu that it was not unusual, in the\nearliest periods of Brahmanism, for those seeking a superior\npiety to turn hermits, and to live alone in the forest, engaged\nin acts of prayer, meditation, abstinence, and the study of the\nVedas.  This practice, however, seems to have been confined to\nthe Brahmans.  It was, therefore, a grief to the king, when his\nson, in the flower of his youth and highly accomplished in every\nkingly faculty of body and mind, began to turn his thoughts\ntoward the life of an anchorite.\n\n     *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *\n\nHe first visited the Brahmans, and listened to their doctrines,\nbut found no satisfaction therein.  The wisest among them could\nnot teach him true peace,   that profound inward rest, which was\nalready called Nirvana.  He was twenty-nine years old.  Although\ndisapproving of the Brahmanic austerities as an end, he practised\nthem during six years, in order to subdue the senses.  He then\nbecame satisfied that the path to perfection did not lie that\nway.  He therefore resumed his former diet and a more comfortable\nmode of life, and so lost many disciples who had been attracted\nby his amazing austerity.  Alone in his hermitage, he came at\nlast to that solid conviction, that KNOWLEDGE never to be shaken,\nof the laws of things, which had seemed to him the only\nfoundation of a truly free life.  The spot where, after a week of\nconstant meditation, he at last arrived at this beatific vision,\nbecame one of the most sacred places in India.  He was seated\nunder a tree, his face to the east, not having moved for a day\nand night, when he attained the triple science, which was to\nrescue mankind from its woes.  Twelve hundred years after the\ndeath of the Buddha, a Chinese pilgrim was shown what then passed\nfor the sacred tree.\n\n     *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *\n\nHaving attained this inward certainty of vision, he decided to\nteach the world his truth.  He knew well what it would bring him,\nwhat opposition, insult, neglect, scorn.  But he thought of\nthree classes of men: those who were already on the way to the\ntruth and did not need him; those who were fixed in error and\nwhom he could not help; and the poor doubters, uncertain of their\nway.  It was to help these last, the doubters, that the Buddha\nwent forth to preach.  On his way to the holy city of India,\nBenares, a serious difficulty arrested him at the Ganges, namely,\nhis having no money to pay the boatman for his passage.  At\nBenares he made his first converts, \"turning the wheel of the\nlaw\" for the first time.  His discourses are contained in the\nsacred books of the Buddhists.  He converted great numbers, his\nfather among the rest, but met with fierce opposition from the\nHindu Scribes and Pharisees, the leading Brahmans.  So he lived\nand taught, and died at the age of eighty years.\n\nThe Buddhists reject entirely the authority of the Vedas, and the\nreligious observances prescribed in them and kept by the Hindus.\nThey also reject the distinction of castes, and prohibit all\nbloody sacrifices, and allow animal food.  Their priests are\nchosen from all classes; they are expected to procure their\nmaintenance by perambulation and begging, and, among other\nthings, it is their duty to endeavor to turn to some use things\nthrown aside as useless by others, and to discover the medicinal\npower of plants.  But in Ceylon three orders of priests are\nrecognized; those of the highest order are usually men of high\nbirth and learning, and are supported at the principal temples,\nmost of which have been richly endowed by the former monarchs of\nthe country.\n\nFor several centuries after the appearance of Buddha, his sect\nseems to have been tolerated by the Brahmans, and Buddhism\nappears to have penetrated the peninsula of Hindustan in every\ndirection, and to have been carried to Ceylon, and to the eastern\npeninsula.  But afterwards it had to endure in India a long\ncontinued persecution, which ultimately had the effect of\nentirely abolishing it in the country where it had originated,\nbut to scatter it widely over adjacent countries.  Buddhism\nappears to have been introduced into China about the year 65 of\nour era.  From China it was subsequently extended to Corea,\nJapan, and Java.\n\nThe charming poem called the Light of Asia, by Mr. Edwin Arnold,\nhas lately called general attention to Buddhism.  The following\nis an extract from it:\n\n  \"Fondly Siddatha drew the proud head down\n  Patted the shining neck, and said 'Be still,\n  White Kantaka!  Be still, and bear me now\n  The farthest journey ever rider rode;\n  For this night take I horse to find the truth,\n  And where my quest will end yet know I not.\n  Save that it shall not end until I find.\n  Therefore to-night, good steed, be fierce and bold!\n  Let nothing stay thee, though a thousand blades\n  Deny the road!  Let neither wall nor moat\n  Forbid our flight!  Look!  If I touch thy flank\n  And cry, \"On, Kantaka!\" let whirlwinds lag\n  Behind thy course!  Be fire and air, my horse!\n  To stead thy lord, so shalt thou share with him\n  The greatness of this deed which helps the world;\n  For therefore ride I, not for men alone,\n  But for all things which, speechless, share our pain,\n  And have no hope, nor wit to ask for hope.\n  Now, therefore, hear thy master valorously!'\"\n\n\nTHE GRAND LAMA\n\nIt is a doctrine alike of the Brahminical Hindus and of the\nBuddhist sect that the confinement of the human soul, an\nemanation of the divine spirit, in a human body, is a state of\nmisery, and the consequence of frailties and sins committed\nduring former existences.  But they hold that some few\nindividuals have appeared on this earth from time to time, not\nunder the necessity of terrestrial existence, but who voluntarily\ndescend to the earth to promote the welfare of mankind.  These\nindividuals have gradually assumed the character of reappearances\nof Buddha himself, in which capacity the line is continued till\nthe present day in the several Lamas of Thibet, China, and other\ncountries where Buddhism prevails.  In consequence of the\nvictories of Gengis Khan and his successors, the Lama residing in\nThibet was raised to the dignity of chief pontiff of the sect.  A\nseparate province was assigned to him as his own territory, and\nbesides his spiritual dignity, he became to a limited extent a\ntemporal monarch.  He is styled the Dalai Lama.\n\nThe first Christian missionaries who proceeded to Thibet were\nsurprised to find there in the heart of Asia a pontifical court\nand several other ecclesiastical institutions resembling those of\nthe Roman Catholic church.  They found convents for priests and\nnuns; also, processions and forms of religious worship, attended\nwith much pomp and splendor; and many were induced by these\nsimilarities to consider Lamaism as a sort of degenerated\nChristianity.  It is not improbable that the Lamas derived some\nof these practices from the Nestorial Christians, who were\nsettled in Tartary when Buddhism was introduced into Thibet.\n\n\nPRESTER JOHN\n\nAn early account, communicated probably by travelling merchants,\nof a Lama or spiritual chief among the Tartars, seems to have\noccasioned in Europe the report of a Presbyter or Prester John, a\nChristian pontiff, resident in Upper Asia.  The Pope sent a\nmission in search of him, as did also Louis IX of France, some\nyears later, but both missions were unsuccessful, though the\nsmall communities of Nestorial Christians, which they did find,\nserved to keep up the belief in Europe that such a personage did\nexist somewhere in the East.  At last in the fifteenth century, a\nPortuguese traveller, Pedro Covilham, happening to hear that\nthere was a Christian prince in the country of the Abessines\n(Abyssinia), not far from the Red Sea, concluded that this must\nbe the true Prester John.  He accordingly went thither, and\npenetrated to the court of the king, whom he calls Negus.  Milton\nalludes to him in Paradise Lost, Book XI, where, describing\nAdam's vision of his descendants in their various nations and\ncities, scattered over the face of the earth, he says,\n\n  \"---- Nor did his eyes not ken\n  The empire of Negus, to his utmost port\n  Ercoco, and the less maritime kings,\n  Mombaza and Quiloa and Melind.\"\n\n\n\nChapter XXXI\n\nNorthern Mythology   Valhalla   The Valkyrior\n\nThe stories which have engaged our attention thus far relate to\nthe mythology of southern regions.  But there is another branch\nof ancient superstitions which ought not to be entirely\noverlooked, especially as it belongs to the nations from which\nwe, through our English ancestors, derive our origin.  It is that\nof the northern nations called Scandinavians, who inhabited the\ncountries now known as Sweden, Denmark, Norway, and Iceland.\nThese mythological records are contained in two collections\ncalled the Eddas, of which the oldest is in poetry and dates back\nto the year 1056, the more modern, or prose Edda, being of the\ndate of 1640.\n\nAccording to the Eddas there was once no heaven above nor earth\nbeneath, but only a bottomless deep, and a world of mist in which\nflowed a fountain.  Twelve rivers issued from this fountain, and\nwhen they had flowed far from their source, they froze into ice,\nand one layer accumulating above another, the great deep was\nfilled up.\n\nSouthward from the world of mist was the world of light.  From\nthis flowed a warm wind upon the ice and melted it.  The vapors\nrose in the air and formed clouds, from which sprang Ymir, the\nFrost giant and his progeny, and the cow Audhumbla, whose milk\nafforded nourishment and food to the giant.  The cow got\nnourishment by licking the hoar frost and salt from the ice.\nWhile she was one day licking the salt stones there appeared at\nfirst the hair of a man, on the second day the whole head, and on\nthe third the entire form endowed with beauty, agility, and\npower.  This new being was a god, from whom and his wife, a\ndaughter of the giant race, sprang the three brothers Odin, Vili,\nand Ve.  They slew the giant Ymir, and out of his body formed the\nearth, of his blood the seas, of his bones the mountains, of his\nhair the trees, of his skull the heavens, and of his brain\nclouds, charged with hail and snow.  Of Ymir's eyebrows the gods\nformed Midgard (mid earth), destined to become the abode of man.\n\nOdin then regulated the periods of day and night and the seasons\nby placing in the heavens the sun and moon, and appointing to\nthem their respective courses.  As soon as the sun began to shed\nits rays upon the earth, it caused the vegetable world to bud and\nsprout.  Shortly after the gods had created the world they walked\nby the side of the sea, pleased with their new work, but found\nthat it was still incomplete, for it was without human beings.\nThey therefore took an ash-tree and made a man out of it, and\nthey made a woman out of an alder, and called the man Aske and\nthe woman Embla.  Odin then gave them life and soul, Vili reason\nand motion, and Ve bestowed upon them the senses, expressive\nfeatures, and speech.  Midgard was then given them as their\nresidence, and they became the progenitors of the human race.\n\nThe mighty ash-tree Ygdrasil was supposed to support the whole\nuniverse.  It sprang from the body of Ymir, and had three immense\nroots, extending one into Asgard (the dwelling of the gods), the\nother into Jotunheim (the abode of the giants), and the third to\nNiffleheim (the regions of darkness and cold).  By the side of\neach of these roots is a spring, from which it is watered.  The\nroot that extends into Asgard is carefully tended by the three\nNorns, goddesses who are regarded as the dispensers of fate.\nThey are Urdur (the past), Verdandi (the present), Skuld (the\nfuture).  The spring at the Jotunheim side is Ymir's well, in\nwhich wisdom and wit lie hidden, but that of Niffleheim feeds the\nadder, Nidhogge (darkness), which perpetually gnaws at the root.\nFour harts run across the branches of the tree and bite the buds;\nthey represent the four winds.  Under the tree lies Ymir, and\nwhen he tries to shake off its weight the earth quakes.\n\nAsgard is the name of the abode of the gods, access to which is\nonly gained by crossing the bridge, Bifrost (the rainbow).\nAsgard consists of golden and silver palaces, the dwellings of\nthe gods, but the most beautiful of these is Valhalla, the\nresidence of Odin.  When seated on his throne he overlooks all\nheaven and earth.  Upon his shoulders are the ravens Hugin and\nMunin, who fly every day over the whole world, and on their\nreturn report to him all they have seen and heard.  At his feet\nlie his two wolves, Geri, and Freki, to whom Odin gives all the\nmeat that is set before him, for he himself stands in no need of\nfood.  Mead is for him both food and drink.  He invented the\nRunic characters, and it is the business of the Norns to engrave\nthe runes of fate upon a metal shield.  From Odin's name, spelt\nWodin, as it sometimes is, came Wednesday, the name of the fourth\nday of the week.\n\nOdin is frequently called Alfadur (All-father), but this name is\nsometimes used in a way that shows that the Scandinavians had an\nidea of a deity superior to Odin, uncreated and eternal.\n\n\nOF THE JOYS OF VALHALLA\n\nValhalla is the great hall of Odin, wherein he feasts with his\nchosen heroes, all those who have fallen bravely in battle, for\nall who die a peaceful death are excluded.  The flesh of the boar\nSchrimnir is served up to them, and is abundant for all.  For\nalthough this boar is cooked every morning, he becomes whole\nagain every night.  For drink the heroes are supplied abundantly\nwith mead from the she-goat Heidrun.  When the heroes are not\nfeasting they amuse themselves with fighting.  Every day they\nride out into the court or field and fight until they cut each\nother in pieces.  This is their pastime; but when meal-time\ncomes, they recover from their wounds and return to feast in\nValhalla.\n\n\nTHE VALKYRIOR\n\nThe Valkyrior are warlike virgins, mounted upon horses and armed\nwith helmets, shields, and spears.  Odin, who is desirous to\ncollect a great many heroes in Valhalla, to be able to meet the\ngiants in a day when the final contest must come, sends down to\nevery battle-field to make choice of those who shall be slain.\nThe Valkyrior are his messengers, and their name means \"Choosers\nof the slain.\"  When they ride forth on their errand their armor\nshed a strange flickering light, which flashes up over the\nnorthern skies, making what men call the \"Aurora Borealis,\" or\n\"Northern Lights.\"  (Gray's ode, The Fatal Sisters, is founded on\nthis superstition.)\n\nThe following is by Matthew Arnold:\n\n  \"----He crew at dawn a cheerful note,\n  To wake the gods and heroes to their tasks\n  And all the gods and all the heroes woke.\n  And from their beds the heroes rose and donned\n  Their arms, and led their horses from the stall,\n  And mounted them, and in Valhalla's court\n  Were ranged; and then the daily fray began,\n  And all day long they there are hacked and hewn\n  'Mid dust and groans, and limbs lopped off, and blood;\n  But all at night return to Odin's hall\n  Woundless and fresh; such lot is theirs in heaven.\n  And the Valkyries on their steeds went forth\n  Toward earth and fights of men; and at their side\n  Skulda, the youngest of the Nornies, rode;\n  And over Bifrost, where is Heimdall's watch,\n  Past Midgard Fortress, down to Earth they came;\n  There through some battle-field, where men fall fast,\n  Their horses fetlock-deep in blood, they ride,\n  And pick the bravest warriors out for death,\n  Whom they bring back with them at night to heaven,\n  To glad the gods, and feast in Odin's hall.\"\n  BALDER DEAD\n\nThis description of The Funeral of Balder is by William Morris:\n\n  \"----Guest\n  Gazed through the cool dusk, till his eyes did rest\n  Upon the noble stories, painted fair\n  On the high panelling and roof-boards there;\n  For over the high sea, in his ship, there lay\n  The gold-haired Balder, god of the dead day,\n  The spring-flowers round his high pile, waiting there\n  Until the gods there to the torch should bear;\n  And they were wrought on this side and on that,\n  Drawing on towards him.  There was Frey, and sat\n  On the gold-bristled boar, who first they say\n  Ploughed the brown earth, and made it green for Frey;\n  Then came dark-bearded Niod; and after him\n  Freyia, thin-robed, about her ankles slim\n  The grey cats playing.  In another place\n  Thor's hammer gleamed o'er Thor's red-bearded face;\n  And Heimdal, with the old horn slung behind,\n  That in the god's dusk he shall surely wind,\n  Sickening all hearts with fear; and last of all,\n  Was Odin's sorrow wrought upon the wall.\n  As slow-paced, weary faced, he went along,\n  Anxious with all the tales of woe and wrong\n  His ravens, Thought and Memory, bring to him.\"\n  THE EARTHLY PARADISE: THE LOVERS OF GODRUN\n\n\nTHOR\n\nOF THOR AND THE OTHER GODS\n\nThor, the thunderer, Odin's eldest son, is the strongest of gods\nand men, and possesses three very precious things.  The first is\nhis hammer, Miolnir, which both the Frost and the Mountain giants\nknow to their cost, when they see it hurled against them in the\nair, for it has split many a skull of their fathers and kindred.\nWhen thrown, it returns to his hand of its own accord.  The\nsecond rare thing he possesses is called the belt of strength.\nWhen he girds it about him his divine might is doubled.  The\nthird, also very precious, is his iron gloves, which he puts on\nwhenever he would use his mallet efficiently.  From Thor's name\nis derived our word Thursday.\n\nThis description of Thor is by Longfellow:\n\n  \"I am the God Thor,\n  I am the War God,\n  I am the Thunderer!\n  Here in my Northland,\n  My fastness and fortress,\n  Reign I forever!\n\n  \"Here amid icebergs\n  Rule I the nations;\n  This is my hammer,\n  Miolner the mighty;\n  Giants and sorcerers\n  Cannot withstand it!\n\n  \"These are the gauntlets\n  Wherewith I wield it,\n  And hurl it afar off;\n  This is my girdle;\n  Whenever I brace it\n  Strength is redoubled!\n\n  \"The light thou beholdest\n  Stream through the heavens,\n  In flashes of crimson,\n  Is but my red beard\n  Blown by the night wind,\n  Affrighting the nations!\n\n  \"Jove is my brother;\n  Mine eyes are the lightning;\n  The wheels of my chariot\n  Roll in the thunder,\n  The blows of my hammer\n  Ring in the thunder.\"\n  TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN\n\nFrey is one of the most celebrated of the gods.  He presides over\nrain and sunshine and all the fruits of the earth.  His sister\nFreya is the most propitious of the goddesses.  She loves music,\nspring, and flowers, and is particularly fond of the Elves\n(fairies).  She is very fond of love-ditties, and all lovers\nwould do well to invoke her.\n\nBragi is the god of poetry, and his song records the deeds of\nwarriors.  His wife, Iduna, keeps in a box the apples which the\ngods, when they feel old age approaching, have only to taste of\nto become young again.\n\nHeimdall is the watchman of the gods, and is therefore placed on\nthe borders of heaven to prevent the giants from forcing their\nway over the bridge Bifrost (the rainbow.)  He requires less\nsleep than a bird, and sees by night as well as by day a hundred\nmiles all around him.  So acute is his ear that no sound escapes\nhim, for he can even hear the grass grow and the wool on a\nsheep's back.\n\n\nOF LOKI AND HIS PROGENY\n\nThere is another deity who is described as the calumniator of the\ngods and the contriver of all fraud and mischief.  His name is\nLoki.  He is handsome and well made, but of a very fickle mood\nand  most evil disposition.  He is of the giant race, but forced\nhimself into the company of the gods, and seems to take pleasure\nin bringing them into difficulties, and in extricating them out\nof the danger by his cunning, wit, and skill.  Loki has three\nchildren.  The first is the wolf Fenris, the second the Midgard\nserpent, the third Hela (Death).  The gods were not ignorant that\nthese monsters were growing up, and that they would one day bring\nmuch evil upon gods and men.  So Odin deemed it advisable to send\none to bring them to him.  When they came he threw the serpent\ninto that deep ocean by which the earth is surrounded.  But the\nmonster has grown to such an enormous size that holding his tail\nin his mouth he encircles the whole earth.  Hela he cast into\nNiffleheim, and gave her power over nine worlds or regions, into\nwhich she distributes those who are sent to her; that is, all who\ndie of sickness or old age.  Her hall is called Elvidnia.  Hunger\nis her table, Starvation her knife, Delay her man, Slowness her\nmaid, Precipice her threshold, Care her bed, and Burning-anguish\nforms the hangings of her apartments.  She may easily be\nrecognized for her body is half flesh-color and half blue, and\nshe has a dreadfully stern and forbidding countenance.\n\nThe wolf Fenris gave the gods a great deal of trouble before they\nsucceeded in chaining him.  He broke the strongest fetters as if\nthey were made of cobwebs.  Finally the gods sent a messenger to\nthe mountain spirits, who made for them the chain called\nGleipnir.  It is fashioned of six things, viz., th noise made by\nthe footfall of a cat, the beards of women, the roots of stones,\nthe breath of fishes, the nerves (sensibilities) of bears, and\nthe spittle of birds.  When finished it was as smooth and soft as\na silken string.  But when the gods asked the wolf to suffer\nhimself to be bound with this apparently slight ribbon, he\nsuspected their design, fearing that it was made by enchantment.\nBut Tyr (the sword god), to quiet his suspicions, placed his hand\nin Fenris' mouth.  Then the other gods bound the wolf with\nGleipnir.  But when the wolf found that he could not break his\nfetters, and that the gods would not release him, he bit off\nTyr's hand, and he has ever since remained one-handed.\n\n\nHOW THOR PAID THE MOUNTAIN GIANT HIS WAGES\n\nOnce on a time, when the gods were constructing their abodes and\nhad already finished Midgard and Valhalla, a certain artificer\ncame and offered to build them a residence so well fortified that\nthey should be perfectly safe from the incursions of the Frost\ngiants and the giants of the mountains.  But he demanded for his\nreward the goddess Freya, together with the sun and moon.  The\ngods yielded to his terms provided he would finish the whole work\nhimself without any one's assistance, and all within the space of\none winter.  But if anything remained unfinished on the first day\nof summer he should forfeit the recompense agreed on.  On being\ntold these terms the artificer stipulated that he should be\nallowed the use of his horse Svadilfari, and this by the advice\nof Loki was granted to him.  He accordingly set to work on the\nfirst day of winter, and during the night let his horse draw\nstone for the building.  The enormous size of the stones struck\nthe gods with astonishment, and they saw clearly that the horse\ndid one half more of the toilsome work than his mater.  Their\nbargain, however, had been concluded, and confirmed by solemn\noaths, for without these precautions a giant would not have\nthought himself safe among the gods, especially when Thor should\nreturn from an expedition he had then undertaken against the evil\ndemons.\n\nAs the winter drew to a close, the building was far advanced, and\nthe bulwarks were sufficiently high and massive to render the\nplace impregnable.  In short, when it wanted but three days to\nsummer the only part that remained to be finished was the\ngateway.  Then sat the gods on their seats of justice and entered\ninto consultation, inquiring of one another who among them could\nhave advised to give Freya away, or to plunge the heavens in\ndarkness by permitting the giant to carry away the sun and the\nmoon.\n\nThey all agreed that no one but Loki, the author of so many evil\ndeeds, could have given such bad counsel, and that he should be\nput to a cruel death if he did not contrive some way to prevent\nthe artificer from completing his task and obtaining the\nstipulated recompense.  They proceeded to lay hands on Loki, who\nin his fright promised upon oath that, let it cost what it would,\nhe would so manage matters that the man should lose his reward.\nThat very night when the man went with Svadilfari for building-\nstone, a mare suddenly ran out of a forest and began to neigh.\nThe horse thereat broke loose and ran after the mare into the\nforest, which obliged the man also to run after his horse, and\nthus between one and another the whole night was lost, so that at\ndawn the work had not made the usual progress.  The man, seeing\nthat he must fail of completing his task, resumed his own\ngigantic stature, and the gods now clearly perceived that it was\nin reality a mountain giant who had come amongst them.  Feeling\nno longer bound by their oaths, they called on Thor, who\nimmediately ran to their assistance, and lifting up his mallet,\npaid the workman his wages, not with the sun and moon, and not\neven by sending him back to Jotunheim, for with the first blow he\nshattered the giant's skull to pieces and hurled him headlong\ninto Niffleheim.\n\n\nTHE RECOVERY OF THE HAMMER\n\nOnce upon a time it happened that Thor's hammer fell into the\npossession of the giant Thrym, who buried it eight fathoms deep\nunder the rocks of Jotunheim.  Thor sent Loki to negotiate with\nThrym, but he could only prevail so far as to get the giant's\npromise to restore the weapon if Freya would consent to be his\nbride.  Loki returned and reported the result of his mission, but\nthe goddess of love was quite horrified at the idea of bestowing\nher charms on the king of the Frost giants.  In this emergency\nLoki persuaded Thor to dress himself in Freya's clothes and\naccompany him to Jotunheim.  Thrym received his veiled bride with\ndue courtesy, but was greatly surprised at seeing her eat for her\nsupper eight salmon and a full-grown ox, besides other\ndelicacies, washing the whole down with three tuns of mead.\nLoki, however, assured him that she had not tasted anything for\neight long nights, so great was her desire to see her lover, the\nrenowned ruler or Jotunheim.  Thrym had at length the curiosity\nto peep under his bride's veil, but started back in affright, and\ndemanded why Freya's eyeballs glistened with fire.  Loki repeated\nthe same excuse and the giant was satisfied.  He ordered the\nhammer to be brought in and laid on the maiden's lap.  Thereupon\nThor threw off his disguise, grasped his redoubted weapon and\nslaughtered Thrum and all his followers.\n\nFrey also possessed a wonderful weapon, a sword which would of\nitself spread a field with carnage whenever the owner desired it.\nFrey parted with this sword, but was less fortunate than Thor and\nnever recovered it.  It happened in this way: Frey once mounted\nOdin's throne, from whence one can see over the whole universe,\nand looking round saw far off in the giant's kingdom a beautiful\nmaid, at the sight of whom he was struck with sudden sadness,\ninsomuch that from that moment he could neither sleep, nor drink,\nnor speak.  At last Skirnir, his messenger, drew his secret from\nhim, and undertook to get him the maiden for his bride, if he\nwould give him his sword as a reward.  Frey consented and gave\nhim the sword, and Skirnir set off on his journey and obtained\nthe maiden's promise that within nine nights she would come to a\ncertain place and there wed Frey.  Skirnir having reported the\nsuccess of his errand, Frey exclaimed,\n\n  \"Long is one night,\n  Long are two nights,\n  But how shall I hold out three?\n  Shorter hath seemed\n  A month to me oft\n  Than of this longing time the half.\"\n\nSo Frey obtained Gerda, the most beautiful of all women, for his\nwife, but he lost his sword.\n\nThis story, entitled Skirnir For, and the one immediately\npreceding it, Thrym's Quida, will be found poetically told in\nLongfellow's Poets and Poetry of Europe.\n\n\n\nChapter XXXII\n\nThor's Visit to Jotunheim\n\nOne day the god Thor, accompanied by his servant Thialfi, and\nalso by Loki, set out on a journey to the giant's country.\nThialfi was of all men the swiftest of foot.  He bore Thor's\nwallet, containing their provisions.  When night came on they\nfound themselves in an immense forest, and searched on all sides\nfor a place where they might pass the night, and at last came to\na very large hall, with an entrance that took the whole breadth\nof one end of the building.  Here they lay down to sleep, but\ntowards midnight were alarmed by an earthquake which shook the\nwhole edifice.  Thor rising up called on his companion to seek\nwith him a place of safety.  On the right they found an adjoining\nchamber, into which the others entered, but Thor remained at the\ndoorway with his mallet in his hand, prepared to defend himself,\nwhatever might happen.  A terrible groaning was heard during the\nnight, and at dawn of day Thor went out and found lying near him\na huge giant, who slept and snored in the way that had alarmed\nthem so.  It is said that for once Thor was afraid to use his\nmallet, and as the giant soon waked up, Thor contented himself\nwith simply asking his name.\n\n\"My name is Skrymir,\" said the giant, \"but I need not ask thy\nname, for I know that thou art the god Tor.  But what has become\nof my glove?\"  Thor then perceived that what they had taken\novernight for a hall was the giant's glove and the chamber where\nhis two companions had sought refuge was the thumb.  Skrymir then\nproposed that they should travel in company, and Thor consenting,\nthey sat down to eat their breakfast, and when they had done,\nSkrymir packed all the provisions into one wallet, threw it over\nhis shoulder, and strode on before them, taking such tremendous\nstrides that they were hard put to it to keep up with him.  So\nthey travelled the whole day, and at dusk, Skrymir close a place\nfor them to pass the night in under a large oak-tree.  Skrymir\nthen told them he would lie down to sleep.  \"But take ye the\nwallet,\" he added, \"and prepare your supper.\"Skrymir soon fell\nasleep and began to snore strongly, but when Thor tried to open\nthe wallet, he found the giant had tied it up so tight he could\nnot untie a single knot.  At last Thor became wroth, and grasping\nhis mallet with both hands he struck a furious blow on the\ngiant's head.  Skrymir awakening merely asked whether a leaf had\nnot fallen on his head, and whether they had supped and were\nready to go to sleep.  Thor answered that they were just going to\nsleep, and so saying went and laid himself down under another\ntree.  But sleep came not that night to Thor, and when Skrymir\nsnored again so loud that the forest re-echoed with the noise, he\narose, and grasping his mallet launched it with such force at the\ngiant's skull that it made a deep dint in it.  Skrymir awakening\ncried out, \"What's the matter?  Are there any birds perched on\nthis tree?  I felt some moss from the branches fall on my head.\nHow fares it with thee, Thor?\"  But Thor went away hastily,\nsaying that he had just then awoke, and that as it was only\nmidnight, there was still time for sleep.  He however resolved\nthat if he had an opportunity of striking a third blow, it should\nsettle all matters between them.  A little before daybreak he\nperceived that Skrymir was again fast asleep, and again grasping\nhis mallet, he dashed it with such violence that it forced its\nway into the giant's skull up to the handle.  But Skrymir sat\nup, and stroking his cheek, said, \"An acorn fell on my head.\nWhat!  Art thou awake, Thor?  Methinks it is time for us to get\nup and dress ourselves; but you have not now a long way before\nyou to the city called Utgard.  I have heard you whispering to\none another that I am not a man of small dimensions; but if you\ncome to Utgard you will see there many men much taller than I.\nWherefore I advise you, when you come there, not to make too much\nof yourselves, for the followers of Utgard-Loki will not brook\nthe boasting of such little fellows as you are.  You must take\nthe road that leads eastward, mine lies northward, so we must\npart here.\"\n\nHereupon he threw his wallet over his shoulders, and turned away\nfrom them into the forest, and Thor had no wish to stop him or to\nask for any more of his company.\n\nThor and his companions proceeded on their way, and towards noon\ndescried a city standing in the middle of a plain.  It was so\nlofty that they were obliged to bend their necks quite back on\ntheir shoulders in order to see to the top of it.  On arriving\nthey entered the city, and seeing a large palace before them with\nthe door wide open, they went in, and found a number of men of\nprodigious stature, sitting on benches in the hall. Going\nfurther, they came before the king Utgard-Loki, whom they saluted\nwith great respect.  The king, regarding them with a scornful\nsmile, said, \"If I do not mistake me, that stripling yonder must\nbe the god Thor.\"  Then addressing himself to Thor, he said,\n\"Perhaps thou mayst be more than thou appearest to be.  What are\nthe feats that thou and thy fellows deem yourselves skilled in,\nfor no one is permitted to remain here who does not, in some feat\nor other, excel all other men?\"\n\n\"The feat that I know,\" said Loki, \"is to eat quicker than any\none else, and in this I am ready to give a proof against any one\nhere who may choose to compete with me.\"\n\n\"That will indeed be a feat,\" said Utgard-Loki, \"if thou\nperformest what thou promisest, and it shall be tried forthwith.\"\n\nHe then ordered one of his men who was sitting at the farther end\nof the bench, and whose name was Logi, to come forward and try\nhis skill with Loki.  A trough filled with meat having been set\non the hall floor, Loki placed himself at one end, and Logi at\nthe other, and each of them began to eat as fast as he could,\nuntil they met in the middle of the trough.  But it was found\nthat Loki had only eaten the flesh, while his adversary had\ndevoured both flesh and bone, and the trough to boot.  All the\ncompany therefore adjudged that Loki was vanquished.\n\nUtgard-Loki then asked what feat the young man who accompanied\nThor could perform.  Thialfi answered that he would run a race\nwith any one who might be matched against him.  The king observed\nthat skill in running was something to boast of, but if the youth\nwould win the match he must display great agility.  He then arose\nand went with all who were present to a plain where there was\ngood ground for running on, and calling a young man named Hugi,\nbade him run a match with Thialfi.  In the first course Hugi so\nmuch outstripped his competitor that he turned back and met him\nnot far from the starting-place.  Then they ran a second and a\nthird time, but Thialfi met with no better success.  Utgard-Loki\nthen asked Thor in what feats he would choose to give proofs of\nthat prowess for which he was so famous.  Thor answered that he\nwould try a drinking-match with any one.  Utgard-Loki bade his\ncupbearer bring the large horn which his followers were obliged\nto empty when they had trespassed in any way against the law of\nthe feast.  The cupbearer having presented it to Thor, Utgard-\nLoki said, \"Whoever is a good drinker will empty that horn at a\nsingle draught, though most men make two of it, but the most puny\ndrinker can do it in three.\"\n\nThor looked at the horn, which seemed of no extraordinary size\nthough somewhat long; however, as he was very thirsty, he set it\nto his lips, and without drawing breath, pulled as long and as\ndeeply as he could, that he might not be obliged to make a second\ndraught of it; but when he set the horn down and looked in, he\ncould scarcely perceive that the liquor was diminished.\n\nAfter taking breath, Thor went to it again with all his might,\nbut when he took the horn from his mouth, it seemed to him that\nhe had drunk rather less than before, although the horn could now\nbe carried without spilling.\n\n\"How now, Thor,\" said Utgard-Loki, \"thou must not spare thyself;\nif thou meanest to drain the horn at the third draught thou must\npull deeply; and I must needs say that thou wilt not be called so\nmighty a man here as thou art at home if thou showest no greater\nprowess in other feats than methinks will be shown in this.\"\n\nThor, full of wrath, again set the horn to his lips, and did his\nbest to empty it; but on looking in found the liquor was only a\nlittle lower, so he resolved to make no further attempt, but gave\nback the horn to the cupbearer.\n\n\"I now see plainly,\" said Utgard-Loki, \"that thou art not quite\nso stout as we thought thee; but wilt thou try any other feat,\nthough methinks thou art not likely to bear any prize away with\nthee hence.\"\n\n\"What new trial hast thou to propose?\" said Thor.\n\n\"We have a very trifling game here,\" answered Utgard-Loki, \"in\nwhich we exercise none but children.  It consists in merely\nlifting my cat from the ground; nor should I have dared to\nmention such a feat to the great Thor if I had not already\nobserved that thou art by no means what we took thee for.\"\n\nAs he finished speaking, a large gray cat sprang on the hall\nfloor.  Thor put his hand under the cat's belly and did his\nutmost to raise him from the floor, but the cat, bending his\nback, had, notwithstanding all Thor's efforts, only one of his\nfeet lifted up, seeing which Thor made no further attempt.\n\n\"This trial has turned out,\" said Utgard-Loki, \"just as I\nimagined it would.  The cat is large, but Thor is little in\ncomparison to our men.\"\n\n\"Little as ye call me,\" answered Thor, \"let me see who among you\nwill come hither now I am in wrath and wrestle with me.\"\n\n\"I see no one here,\" said Utgard-Loki, looking at the men sitting\non the benches, \"who would not think it beneath him to wrestle\nwith thee; let somebody, however, call hither that old crone, my\nnurse Elli, and let Thor wrestle with her if he will.  She has\nthrown to the ground many a man not less strong than this Thor\nis.\"\n\nA toothless old woman then entered the hall, and was told by\nUtgard-Loki to take hold of Thor.  The tale is shortly told.  The\nmore Thor tightened his hold on the crone the firmer she stood.\nAt length, after a very violent struggle, Thor began to lose his\nfooting, and was finally brought down upon one knee.  Utgard-Loki\nthen told them to desist, adding that Thor had now no occasion to\nask any one else in the hall to wrestle with him, and it was also\ngetting late; so he showed Thor and his companions to their\nseats, and they passed the night there in good cheer.\n\nThe next morning at break of day, Thor and his companions dressed\nthemselves and prepared for their departure.  Utgard-Loki ordered\na table to be set for them, on which there was no lack of\nvictuals or drink.  After the repast Utgard-Loki led them to the\ngate of the city, and on parting asked Thor how he thought his\njourney had turned out, and whether he had met with any men\nstronger than himself.  Thor told him that he could not deny but\nthat he had brought great shame on himself.  \"And what grieves me\nmost,\" he added, is that ye will call me a person of little\nworth.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said Utgard-Loki, \"it behooves me to tell thee the truth,\nnow thou art out of the city, which so long as I live and have my\nway thou shalt never enter again.  And, by my troth, had I known\nbeforehand that thou hadst so much strength in thee, and wouldst\nhave brought me so near to a great mishap, I would not have\nsuffered thee to enter this time.  Know then that I have all\nalong deceived thee by my illusions; first in the forest where I\ntied up the wallet with iron wire so that thou couldst not untie\nit.  After this thou gavest me three blows with the mallet; the\nfirst, though the least, would have ended my days had it fallen\non me, but I slipped aside and thy blows fell on the mountain\nwhere thou wilt find three glens, one of them remarkably deep.\nThese are the dints made by thy mallet.  I have made use of\nsimilar illusions in the contests you have had with my followers.\nIn the first, Loki, like hunger itself, devoured all that was set\nbefore him, but Logi was in reality nothing else than Fire, and\ntherefore consumed not only the meat, but the trough which held\nit.  Hugi, with whom Thialfi contended in running, was Thought,\nand it was impossible for Thialfi to keep pace with that.  When\nthou in thy turn didst attempt to empty the horn, thou didst\nperform, by my troth, a deed so marvellous, that had I not seen\nit myself, I should never have believed it.  For one end of that\nhorn reached the sea, which thou was not aware of, but when thou\ncomest to the shore thou wilt perceive how much the sea has sunk\nby thy draughts.  Thou didst perform a feat no less wonderful by\nlifting up the cat, and to tell thee the truth, when we saw that\none of his paws was off the floor, we were all of us terror-\nstricken, for what thou tookest for a cat was in reality the\nMidgard serpent that encompasseth the earth, and he was so\nstretched by thee, that he was barely long enough to enclose it\nbetween his head and tail.  Thy wrestling with Elli was also a\nmost astonishing feat, for there was never yet a man, nor ever\nwill be, whom Old Age, for such in fact was Elli, will not sooner\nor later lay low.  But now, as we are going to part, let me tell\nthee that it will be better for both of us if thou never come\nnear me again, for shouldst thou do so, I shall again defend\nmyself by other illusions, so that thou wilt only lose thy labor\nand get no fame from the contest with me.\"\n\n\nOn hearing these words Thor in a rage laid hold of his mallet and\nwould have launched it at him, but Utgard-Loki had disappeared,\nand when Thor would have returned to the city to destroy it, he\nfound nothing around him but a verdant plain.\n\nOn another occasion Thor was more successful in an encounter with\nthe giants.  It happened that Thor met with a giant, Hrungnir by\nname, who was disputing with Odin as to the merits of their\nrespective horses, Gullfaxi and Sleipnir, the eight-legged.  Thor\nand the giant made an agreement to fight together on a certain\nday.  But as the day approached, the giant, becoming frightened\nat the thought of encountering Thor alone, manufactured, with the\nassistance of his fellow-giants, a great giant of clay.  He was\nnine miles high and three miles about the chest, and in his heart\nhe had the heart of a mare.  Accompanied by the clay giant,\nHrungnir awaited Thor on the appointed day.  Thor approached\npreceded by Thialfi, his servant, who, running ahead, shouted out\nto Hrungnir that it was useless to hold his shield before him,\nfor the god Thor would attack him out of the ground.  Hrungnir at\nthis flung his shield on the ground, and, standing upon it, made\nready.  As Thor approached Hrungnir flung at him an immense club\nof stone.  Thor flung his hammer.  Miolnir met the club half way,\nbroke it in pieces, and burying itself in the stone skull of\nHrungnir, felled him to the ground.  Meanwhile Thialfi had\ndespatched the clay giant with a spade.  Thor himself received\nbut a slight wound from a fragment of the giant's hammer.\n\n\n\nChapter XXXIII\n\nThe Death of Baldur   The Elves -- Runic Letters -- Scalds --\nIceland\n\nBaldur, the Good, having been tormented with terrible dreams\nindicating that his life was in peril, told them to the assembled\ngods, who resolved to conjure all things to avert from him the\nthreatened danger.  Then Frigga, the wife of Odin, exacted an\noath from fire and water, from iron and all other metals, from\nstones, trees, diseases, beasts, birds, poisons, and creeping\nthings, that none of them would do any harm to Baldur.  Odin, not\nsatisfied with all this, and feeling alarmed for the fate of his\nson, determined to consult the prophetess Angerbode, a giantess,\nmother of Fenris, Hela, and the Midgard serpent.  She was dead,\nand Odin was forced to seek her in Hela's dominions.  This\ndescent of Odin forms the subject of Gray's fine ode beginning,\n\n  \"Up rose the king of men with speed\n  And saddled straight his coal-black steed.\"\n\nBut the other gods, feeling that what Frigga had done was quite\nsufficient, amused themselves with using Baldur as a mark, some\nhurling darts at him, some stones, while others hewed at him with\ntheir swords and battle-axes, for do what they would none of them\ncould harm him.  And this became a favorite pastime with them and\nwas regarded as an honor shown to Baldur.  But when Loki beheld\nthe scene he was sorely vexed that Baldur was not hurt.\nAssuming, therefore, the shape of a woman, he went to Fensalir,\nthe mansion of Frigga.  That goddess, when she saw the pretended\nwoman, inquired of her if she knew what the gods were doing at\ntheir meetings.  She replied that they were throwing darts and\nstones at Baldur, without being able to hurt him.  \"Ay,\" said\nFrigga, \"neither stones, nor sticks, nor anything else can hurt\nBaldur, for I have exacted an oath from all of them.  \" \"What,\"\nexclaimed the woman, \"have all things sworn to spare Baldur?\"\n\"All things,\" replied Frigga, \"except one little shrub that grows\non the eastern side of Valhalla, and is called Mistletoe, and\nwhich I thought too young and feeble to crave an oath from.\"\n\nAs soon as Loki heard this he went away, and resuming his natural\nshape, cut off the mistletoe, and repaired to the place where the\ngods were assembled.  There he found Hodur standing apart,\nwithout partaking of the sports, on account of his blindness, and\ngoing up to him, said, \"Why dost thou not also throw something at\nBaldur?\"\n\n\"Because I am blind,\" answered Hodur, \"and see not where Baldur\nis, and have moreover nothing to throw.\"\n\n\"Come, then,\" said Loki, \"do like the rest and show honor to\nBaldur by throwing this twig at him, and I will direct thy arm\ntowards the place where he stands.\"\n\nHodur then took the mistletoe, and under the guidance of Loki,\ndarted it at Baldur, who, pierced through and through, fell down\nlifeless.  Surely never was there witnessed, either among gods or\nmen, a more atrocious deed than this.  When Baldur fell, the gods\nwere struck speechless with horror, and then they looked at each\nother, and all were of one mind to lay hands on him who had done\nthe deed, but they were obliged to delay their vengeance out of\nrespect for the sacred place where they were assembled.  They\ngave vent to their grief by loud lamentations.  When the gods\ncame to themselves, Frigga asked who among them wished to gain\nall her love and good will.  \"For this,\" said she, \"shall he have\nwho will ride to Hel and offer Hela a ransom if she will let\nBaldur return to Asgard.\"  Whereupon Hermod, surnamed the Nimble,\nthe son of Odin, offered to undertake the journey.  Odin's horse,\nSleipnir, which has eight legs, and can outrun the wind, was then\nled forth, on which Hermod mounted and galloped away on his\nmission.  For the space of nine days and as many nights he rode\nthrough deep glens so dark that he could not discern anything\nuntil he arrived at the river Gyoll, which he passed over on a\nbridge covered with glittering gold.  The maiden who kept the\nbridge asked him his name and lineage, telling him that the day\nbefore five bands of dead persons had ridden over the bridge, and\ndid not shake it as much as he alone.  \"But,\" she added, \"thou\nhast not death's hue on thee; why then ridest thou here on the\nway to Hel?\"\n\n\"I ride to Hel,\" answered Hermod, \"to seek Baldur.  Hast thou\nperchance seen him pass this way?\"\n\nShe replied, \"Baldur hath ridden over Gyoll's bridge, and yonder\nlieth the way he took to the abodes of death.\"\n\nHermod pursued his journey until he came to the barred gates of\nHel.  Here he alighted, girthed his saddle tighter, and\nremounting clapped both spurs to his horse, who cleared the gate\nby a tremendous leap without touching it.  Hermod then rode on to\nthe palace where he found his brother Baldur occupying the most\ndistinguished seat in the hall, and passed the night in his\ncompany.  The next morning he besought Hela to let Baldur ride\nhome with him, assuring her that nothing but lamentations were to\nbe heard among the gods.  Hela answered that it should now be\ntried whether Baldur was so beloved as he was said to be.  \"If,\ntherefore,\" she added, \"all things in the world, both living and\nlifeless, weep for him, then shall he return to life; but if any\none thing speak against him or refuse to weep, he shall be kept\nin Hel.\"\n\nHermod then rode back to Asgard and gave an account of all he had\nheard and witnessed.\n\nThe gods upon this despatched messengers throughout the world to\nbeg every thing to weep in order that Baldur might be delivered\nfrom Hel.  All things very willingly complied with this request,\nboth men and every other living being, as well as earths, and\nstones, and trees, and metals, just as we have all seen these\nthings weep when they are brought from a cold place into a hot\none.  As the messengers were returning, they found an old hag\nnamed Thaukt sitting in a cavern, and begged her to weep Baldur\nout of Hel.  But she answered,\n\n  \"Thaukt will wail\n  With dry tears\n  Baldur's bale-fire.\n  Let Hela keep her own.\"\n\nIt was strongly suspected that this hag was no other than Loki\nhimself, who never ceased to work evil among gods and men.  So\nBaldur was prevented from coming back to Asgard.  (In\nLongfellow's Poems, vol. 1, page 379, will be found a poem\nentitled Tegner's Drapa, upon the subject of Baldur's death.)\n\nAmong Matthew Arnold's Poems is one called \"Balder Death\"\nbeginning thus:\n\n  \"So on the floor lay Balder dead; and round\n  Lay thickly strewn swords, axes, darts and spears,\n  Which all the Gods in sport had idly thrown\n  At Balder, whom no weapon pierced or clave;\n  But in his breast stood fixt the fatal bough\n  Of mistletoe, which Lok the Accuser gave\n  To Hoder, and unwitting Hoder threw;\n  \"Gainst that alone had Balder's life no charm.\n  And all the Gods and all the heroes came\n  And stood round Balder on the bloody floor\n  Weeping and wailing; and Valhalla rang\n  Up to its golden roof with sobs and cries;\n  And on the table stood the untasted meats,\n  And in the horns and gold-rimmed skulls the wine;\n  And now would night have fallen and found them yet\n  Wailing; but otherwise was Odin's will.\"\n\n\nTHE FUNERAL OF BALDUR\n\nThe gods took up the dead body and bore it to the sea-shore where\nstood Baldur's ship Hringham, which passed for the largest in the\nworld.  Baldur's dead body was put on the funeral pile, on board\nthe ship, and his wife Nanna was so struck with grief at the\nsight that she broke her heart, and her body was burned on the\nsame pile with her husband's.  There was a vast concourse of\nvarious kinds of people at Baldur's obsequies.  First came Odin\naccompanied by Frigga, the Valkyrior, and his ravens; then Frey\nin his car drawn by Gullinbursti, the boar; Heimdall rode his\nhorse Gulltopp, and Freya drove in her chariot drawn by cats.\nThere were also a great many Frost giants and giants of the\nmountain present.  Baldur's horse was led to the pile fully\ncaparisoned and consumed in the same flames with his master.\n\nBut Loki did not escape his deserved punishment.  When he saw how\nangry the gods were, he fled to the mountain, and there built\nhimself a hut with four doors, so that he could see every\napproaching danger.  He invented a net to catch the fishes, such\nas fishermen have used since his time.  But Odin found out his\nhiding-place and the gods assembled to take him.  He, seeing\nthis, changed himself into a salmon, and lay hid among the stones\nof the brook.  But the gods took his net and dragged the brook,\nand Loki finding he must be caught, tried to leap over the net;\nbut Thor caught him by the tail and compressed it so, that\nsalmons every since have had that part remarkably fine and thin.\nThey bound him with chains and suspended a serpent over his head,\nwhose venom falls upon his face drop by drop.  His wife Siguna\nsits by his side and catches the drops as they fall, in a cup;\nbut when she carries it away to empty it, the venom falls upon\nLoki, which makes him howl with horror, and twist his body about\nso violently that the whole earth shakes, and this produces what\nmen call earthquakes.\n\n\nTHE ELVES\n\nThe Edda mentions another class of beings, inferior to the gods,\nbut still possessed of great power; these were called Elves.  The\nwhite spirits, or Elves of Light, were exceedingly fair, more\nbrilliant than the sun, and clad in garments of delicate and\ntransparent texture.  They loved the light, were kindly disposed\nto mankind, and generally appeared as fair and lovely children.\nTheir country was called Alfheim, and was the domain of Freyr,\nthe god of the sun, in whose light they were always sporting.\n\nThe black of Night Elves were a different kind of creatures.\nUgly, long-nosed dwarfs, of a dirty brown color, they appeared\nonly at night, for they avoided the sun as their most deadly\nenemy, because whenever his beams fell upon any of them they\nchanged them immediately into stones.  Their language was the\necho of solitudes, and their dwelling-places subterranean caves\nand clefts.  They were supposed to have come into existence as\nmaggots, produced by the decaying flesh of Ymir's body, and were\nafterwards endowed by the gods with a human form and great\nunderstanding.  They were particularly distinguished for a\nknowledge of the mysterious powers of nature, and for the runes\nwhich they carved and explained.  They were the most skilful\nartificers of all created beings, and worked in metals and in\nwood.  Among their most noted works were Thor's hammer, and the\nship Skidbladnir, which they gave to Freyr, and which was so\nlarge that it could contain all the deities with their war and\nhousehold implements, but so skilfully was it wrought that when\nfolded together it could be put into a side pocket.\n\n\nRAGNABOK, THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS\n\nIt was a firm belief of the northern nations that a time would\ncome when all the visible creation, the gods of Valhalla and\nNiffleheim, the inhabitants of Jotunheim, Alfheim, and Midgard,\ntogether with their habitations, would be destroyed.  The fearful\nday of destruction will not, however, be without its forerunners.\nFirst will come a triple winter, during which snow will fall from\nthe four corners of the heavens, the frost be very severe, the\nwind piercing, the weather tempestuous, and the sun impart no\ngladness.  Three such winters will pass away without being\ntempered by a single summer.  Three other similar winters will\nthen follow, during which war and discord will spread over the\nuniverse.  The earth itself will be frightened and begin to\ntremble, the sea leave its basin, the heavens tear asunder, and\nmen perish in great numbers, and the eagles of the air feast upon\ntheir still quivering bodies.  The wolf Fenris will now break his\nbands, the Midgard serpent rise out of her bed in the sea, and\nLoki, released from his bonds, will join the enemies of the gods.\nAmidst the general devastation the sons of Muspelheim will rush\nforth under their leader Surtur, before and behind whom are\nflames and burning fire.  Onward they ride over Bifrost, the\nrainbow bridge, which breaks under the horses' hoofs.  But they,\ndisregarding its fall, direct their course to the battle-field\ncalled Vigrid.  Thither also repair the wolf Fenris, the Midgard\nserpent, Loki with all the followers of Hela, and the Frost\ngiants.\n\nHeimdall now stands up and sounds the Giallar horn to assemble\nthe gods and heroes for the contest.  The gods advance, led on by\nOdin, who engages the wolf Fenris, but falls a victim to the\nmonster, who is, however, slain by Vidar, Odin's son.  Thor gains\ngreat renown by killing the Midgard serpent, but recoils and\nfalls dead, suffocated with the venom which the dying monster\nvomits over him.  Loki and Heimdall meet and fight till they are\nboth slain.  The Gods and their enemies having fallen in battle,\nSurtur, who has killed Dreyr, darts fire and flames over the\nworld, and the whole universe is burned up.  The sun becomes dim,\nthe earth sinks into the ocean, the stars fall from heaven, and\ntime is no more.\n\nAfter this Alfadur (the almighty) will cause a new heaven and a\nnew earth to arise out of the sea.  The new earth, filled with\nabundant supplies, will spontaneously produce its fruits without\nlabor or care. Wickedness and misery will no more be known, but\nthe gods and men will live happily together.\n\n\nRUNIC LETTERS\n\nOne cannot travel far in Denmark, Norway, or Sweden, without\nmeeting with great stones, of different forms, engraven with\ncharacters called Runic, which appear at first sight very\ndifferent from all we know.  The letters consist almost\ninvariably of straight lines, in the shape of little sticks\neither singly or put together.  Such sticks were in early times\nused by the northern nations for the purpose of ascertaining\nfuture events.  The sticks were shaken up, and from the figures\nthat they formed a kind of divination was derived.\n\nThe Runic characters were of various kinds.  They were chiefly\nused for magical purposes.  The noxious, or, as they called them,\nthe BITTER runes, were employed to bring various evils on their\nenemies; the favorable averted misfortune.  Some were medicinal,\nothers employed to win love, etc.  In later times they were\nfrequently used for inscriptions, of which more than a thousand\nhave been found.  The language is a dialect of the Gothic, called\nNorse, still in use in Iceland.  The inscriptions may therefore\nbe read with certainty, but hitherto very few have been found\nwhich throw the least light on history.  They are mostly epitaphs\non tombstones.\n\nGray's ode on the Descent of Odin contains an allusion to the use\nof Runic letters for incantation:\n\n  \"Facing to the northern clime,\n  Thrice he traced the Runic rhyme;\n  Thrice pronounced, in accents dread,\n  The thrilling verse that wakes the dead,\n  Till from out the hollow ground\n  Slowly breathed a sullen sound.\"\n\n\nTHE SKALDS\n\nThe Skalds were the bards and poets of the nation, a very\nimportant class of men in all communities in an early stage of\ncivilization.  They are the depositaries of whatever historic\nlore there is, and it is their office to mingle something of\nintellectual gratification with the rude feasts of the warriors,\nby rehearsing, with such accompaniments of poetry and music as\ntheir skill can afford, the exploits of their heroes living or\ndead.  The compositions of the Skalds were called Sagas, many of\nwhich have come down to us, and contain valuable materials of\nhistory, and a faithful picture of the state of society at the\ntime to which they relate.\n\n\nICELAND\n\nThe Eddas and Sagas have come to us from Iceland.  The following\nextract from Carlyle's Lectures on Heroes and Hero worship gives\nan animated account of the region where the strange stories we\nhave been reading had their origin.  Let the reader contrast it\nfor a moment with Greece, the parent of classical mythology.\n\n\"In that strange island, Iceland,   burst up, the geologists say,\nby fire from the bottom of the sea, a wild land of barrenness and\nlava, swallowed many months of every year in black tempests, yet\nwith a wild, gleaming beauty in summer time, towering up there\nstern and grim in the North Ocean, with its snow yokuls\n(mountains), roaring geysers (boiling springs), sulphur pools,\nand horrid volcanic chasms, like the vast, chaotic battle-field\nof Frost and Fire,   where, of all places, we least looked for\nliterature or written memorials,   the record of these things was\nwritten down.  On the seaboard of this wild land is a rim of\ngrassy country, where cattle can subsist, and men by means of\nthem and of what the sea yields; and it seems they were poetic\nmen these, men who had deep thoughts in them and uttered\nmusically their thoughts.  Much would be lost had Iceland not\nbeen burst up from the sea, not been discovered by the Northmen!\"\n\n\n\nChapter XXXIV\n\nThe Druids   Iona\n\nThe Druids were the priests or ministers of religion among the\nancient Celtic nations in Gaul, Britain, and Germany.  Our\ninformation respecting them is borrowed from notices in the Greek\nand Roman writers, compared with the remains of Welsh and Gaelic\npoetry still extant.\n\nThe Druids combined the functions of the priest, the magistrate,\nthe scholar, and the physician.  They stood to the people of the\nCeltic tribes in a relation closely analogous to that in which\nthe Brahmans of India, the Magi of Persia, and the priests of the\nEgyptians stood to the people respectively by whom they were\nrevered.\n\nThe Druids taught the existence of one God, to whom they gave a\nname \"Be'al,\" which Celtic antiquaries tell us means \"the life of\neverything,\" or \"the source of all beings,:\" and which seems to\nhave affinity with the Phoenician Baal.  What renders this\naffinity more striking is that the Druids as well as the\nPhoenicians identified this, their supreme deity, with the Sun.\nFire was regarded as a symbol of the divinity.  The Latin writers\nassert that the Druids also worshipped numerous inferior Gods.\nThey used no images to represent the object of their worship, nor\ndid they meet in temples or buildings of any kind for the\nperformance of their sacred rites.  A circle of stones (each\nstone generally of vast size) enclosing an area of from twenty\nfeet to thirty yards in diameter, constituted their sacred place.\nThe most celebrated of these now remaining is Stonehenge, on\nSalisbury Plain, England.\n\nThese sacred circles were generally situated near some stream, or\nunder the shadow of a grove or wide-spreading oak.  In the centre\nof the circle stood the Cromlech or altar, which was a large\nstone, placed in the manner of a table upon other stones set up\non end.  The Druids had also their high places, which were large\nstones or piles of stones on the summits of hills.  These were\ncalled Cairns, and were used in the worship of the deity under\nthe symbol of the sun.\n\nThat the Druids offered sacrifices to their deity there can be no\ndoubt.  But there is some uncertainty as to what they offered,\nand of the ceremonies connected with their religious services we\nknow almost nothing.  The classical (Roman) writers affirm that\nthey offered on great occasions human sacrifices; as for success\nin war or for relief from dangerous diseases.  Caesar has given a\ndetailed account of the manner in which this was done.  \"They\nhave images of immense size, the limbs of which are framed with\ntwisted twigs and filled with living persons.  These being set on\nfire, those within are encompassed by the flames.\"  Many attempts\nhave been made by Celtic writers to shake the testimony of the\nRoman historians to this fact, but without success.\n\nThe Druids observed two festivals in each year.  The former took\nplace in the beginning of May, and was called Beltane or \"fire of\nGod.\"  On this occasion a large fire was kindled on some elevated\nspot, in honor of the sun, whose returning beneficence they thus\nwelcomed after the gloom and desolation of winter.  Of this\ncustom a trace remains in the name given to Whitsunday in parts\nof Scotland to this day.  Sir Walter Scott uses the word in the\nBoat Song in the Lady of the Lake:\n\n  \"Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain,\n  Blooming at Beltane in winter to fade.\"\n\nThe other great festival of the Druids was called \"Samh'in,\" or\n\"fire of peace,\" and was held on Hallow-eve (first of November),\nwhich still retains this designation in the Highlands of\nScotland.  On this occasion the Druids assembled in solemn\nconclave, in the most central part of the district, to discharge\nthe judicial functions of their order.  All questions, whether\npublic or private, all crimes against person or property, were at\nthis time brought before them for adjudication.  With these\njudicial acts were combined certain superstitious usages,\nespecially the kindling of the sacred fire, from which all the\nfires in the district which had been beforehand scrupulously\nextinguished, might be relighted.  This usage of kindling fires\non Hallow-eve lingered in the British Islands long after the\nestablishment of Christianity.\n\nBesides these two great annual festivals, the Druids were in the\nhabit of observing the full moon, and especially the sixth day of\nthe moon.  On the latter they sought the mistletoe, which grew on\ntheir favorite oaks, and to which, as well as to the oak itself,\nthey ascribed a peculiar virtue and sacredness.  The discovery of\nit was an occasion of rejoicing and solemn worship.  \"They call\nit,\" says Pliny, \"by a word in their language which means 'heal-\nall,' and having made solemn preparation for feasting and\nsacrifice under the tree, they drive thither two milk-white\nbulls, whose horns are then for the first time bound.  The priest\nthen, robed in white, ascends the tree, and cuts off the\nmistletoe with a golden sickle.  It is caught in a white mantle,\nafter which they proceed to slay the victims, at the same time\npraying that god would render his gift prosperous to those to\nwhom he had given it.  They drink the water in which it has been\ninfused, and think it a remedy for all diseases.  The mistletoe\nis a parasitic plant, and is not always nor often found on the\noak, so that when it is found it is the more precious.\"\n\nThe Druids were the teachers of morality as well as of religion.\nOf their ethical teaching a valuable specimen is preserved in the\nTriads of the Welsh Bards, and from this we may gather that their\nviews of moral rectitude were on the whole just, and that they\nheld and inculcated many very noble and valuable principles of\nconduct.  They were also the men of science and learning of their\nage and people.  Whether they were acquainted with letters or not\nhas been disputed, though the probability is strong that they\nwere, to some extent.  But it is certain that they committed\nnothing of their doctrine, their history, or their poetry to\nwriting.  Their teaching was oral, and their literature (if such\na word may be used in such a case) was preserved solely by\ntradition.  But the Roman writers admit that \"they paid much\nattention to the order and laws of nature, and investigated and\ntaught to the youth under their charge many things concerning the\nstars and their motions, the size of the world and the lands ,\nand concerning the might and power of the immortal gods.\"\n\nTheir history consisted in traditional tales, in which the heroic\ndeeds of their forefathers were celebrated.  These were\napparently in verse, and thus constituted part of the poetry as\nwell as the history of the Druids.  In the poems of Ossian we\nhave, if not the actual productions of Druidical times, what may\nbe considered faithful representations of the songs of the Bards.\n\nThe Bards were an essential part of the Druidical hierarchy.  One\nauthor, Pennant, says, \"The bards were supposed to be endowed\nwith powers equal to inspiration.  They were the oral historians\nof all past transactions, public and private.  They were also\naccomplished genealogists.\"\n\nPennant gives a minute account of the Eisteddfods or sessions of\nthe bards and minstrels, which were held in Wales for many\ncenturies, long after the Druidical priesthood in its other\ndepartments became extinct.  At these meetings none but bards of\nmerit were suffered to rehearse their pieces, and minstrels of\nskill to perform.  Judges were appointed to decide on their\nrespective abilities, and suitable degrees were conferred.  In\nthe earlier period the judges were appointed by the Welsh\nprinces, and after the conquest of Wales, by commission from the\nkings of England.  Yet the tradition is that Edward I., in\nrevenge for the influence of the bards, in animating the\nresistance of the people to his sway, persecuted them with great\ncruelty.  This tradition has furnished the poet Gray with the\nsubject of his celebrated ode, the Bard.\n\nThere are still occasional meetings of the lovers of Welsh poetry\nand music, held under the ancient name.  Among Mrs. Heman's poems\nis one written for an Eisteddfod, or meeting of Welsh Bards, held\nin London May 22, 1822.  It begins with a description of the\nancient meeting, of which the following lines are a part:\n\n  \"---- midst the eternal cliffs, whose strength defied\n  The crested Roman in his hour of pride;\n  And where the Druid's ancient cromlech frowned,\n  And the oaks breathed mysterious murmurs round,\n  There thronged the inspired of yore! On plain or height,\n  In the sun's face, beneath the eye of light,\n  And baring unto heaven each noble head,\n  Stood in the circle, where none else might tread.\"\n\nThe Druidical system was at its height at the time of the Roman\ninvasion under Julius Caesar.  Against the Druids, as their chief\nenemies, these conquerors of the world directed their unsparing\nfury.  The Druids, harassed at all points on the main-land,\nretreated to Anglesey and Iona, where for a season they found\nshelter, and continued their now-dishonored rites.\n\nThe Druids retained their predominance in Iona and over the\nadjacent islands and main-land until they were supplanted and\ntheir superstitions overturned by the arrival of St. Columba, the\napostle of the Highlands, by whom the inhabitants of that\ndistrict were first led to profess Christianity.\n\n\nIONA\n\nOne of the smallest of the British Isles, situated near a ragged\nand barren coast, surrounded by dangerous seas, and possessing no\nsources of internal wealth, Iona has obtained an imperishable\nplace in history as the seat of civilization and religion at a\ntime when the darkness of heathenism hung over almost the whole\nof Northern Europe.  Iona or Icolmkill is situated at the\nextremity of the island of Mull, from which it is separated by a\nstrait of half a mile in breadth, its distance from the main-land\nof Scotland being thirty-six miles.\n\nColumba was a native of Ireland, and connected by birth with the\nprinces of the land.  Ireland was at that time a land of gospel\nlight, while the western and northern parts of Scotland were\nstill immersed in the darkness of heathenism.  Columba, with\ntwelve friends landed on the island of Iona in the year of our\nLord 563, having made the passage in a wicker boat covered with\nhides.  The Druids who occupied the island endeavored to prevent\nhis settling there, and the savage nations on the adjoining\nshores incommoded him with their hostility, and on several\noccasions endangered his life by their attacks.  Yet by his\nperseverance and zeal he surmounted all opposition, procured from\nthe king a gift of the island, and established there a monastery\nof which he was the abbot.  He was unwearied in his labors to\ndisseminate a knowledge of the Scriptures throughout the\nHighlands and Islands of Scotland, and such was the reverence\npaid him that though not a bishop, but merely a presbyter and\nmonk, the entire province with its bishops was subject to him and\nhis successors.  The Pictish monarch was so impressed with a\nsense of his wisdom and worth that he held him in the highest\nhonor, and the neighboring chiefs and princes sought his counsel\nand availed themselves of his judgment in settling their\ndisputes.\n\nWhen Columba landed on Iona he was attended by twelve followers\nwhom he had formed into a religious body, of which he was the\nhead.  To these, as occasion required, others were from time to\ntime added, so that the original number was always kept up.\nTheir institution was called a monastery, and the superior an\nabbot, but the system had little in common with the monastic\ninstitutions of later times.  The name by which those who\nsubmitted to the rule were known was that of Culdees, probably\nfrom the Latin \"cultores Dei\"   worshippers of God.  They were a\nbody of religious persons associated together for the purpose of\naiding each other in the common work of preaching the gospel and\nteaching youth, as well as maintaining in themselves the fervor\nof devotion by united exercises of worship.  On entering the\norder certain vows were taken by the members, but they were not\nthose which were usually imposed by monastic orders, for of\nthese, which are three, celibacy, poverty, and obedience, the\nCuldees were bound to none except the third.  To poverty they did\nnot bind themselves; on the contrary, they seem to have labored\ndiligently to procure for themselves and those dependent on them\nthe comforts of life.  Marriage also was allowed them, and most\nof them seem to have entered into that state.  True, their wives\nwere not permitted to reside with them at the institution, but\nthey had a residence assigned to them in an adjacent locality.\nNear Iona there is an island which still bears the name of \"Eilen\nnam ban,\" women's island, where their husbands seem to have\nresided with them, except when duty required their presence in\nthe school or the sanctuary.\n\nCampbell, in his poem of Reullura, alludes to the married monks\nof Iona:\n\n  \"----The pure Culdees\n  Were Albyn's earliest priests of God,\n  Ere yet an island of her seas\n  By foot of Saxon monk was trod,\n  Long ere her churchmen by bigotry\n  Were barred from holy wedlock's tie.\n  'Twas then that Aodh, famed afar,\n  In Iona preached the word with power.\n  And Reullura, beauty's star,\n  Was the partner of his bower.\"\n\nIn one of his Irish Melodies, Moore gives the legend of St.\nSenanus and the lady who sought shelter on the island, but was\nrepulsed:\n\n  \"Oh, haste and leave this sacred isle,\n  Unholy bark, ere morning smile;\n  For on thy deck, though dark it be,\n  A female form I see;\n  And I have sworn this sainted sod\n  Shall ne'er by woman's foot be trod.\n\nIn these respects and in others the Culdees departed from the\nestablished rules of the Romish Church, and consequently were\ndeemed heretical.  The consequence was that as the power of the\nlatter advanced, that of the Culdees was enfeebled.  It was not,\nhowever, till the thirteenth century that the communities of the\nCuldees were suppressed and the members dispersed.  They still\ncontinued to labor as individuals, and resisted the inroads of\nPapa usurpation as they best might till the light of the\nReformation dawned on the world.\n\nIonia, from its position in the western seas, was exposed to the\nassaults of the Norwegian and Danish rovers by whom those seas\nwere infested, and by them it was repeatedly pillaged, its\ndwellings burned, and its peaceful inhabitants put to the sword.\nThese unfavorable circumstances led to its gradual decline, which\nwas expedited by the supervision of the Culdees throughout\nScotland.  Under the reign of Popery the island became the seat\nof a nunnery, the ruins of which are still seen.  At the\nReformation, the nuns were allowed to remain, living in\ncommunity, when the abbey was dismantled.\n\nIonia is now chiefly resorted to by travellers on account of the\nnumerous ecclesiastical and sepulchral remains which are found\nupon it.  The principal of these are the Cathedral or Abbey\nChurch, and the Chapel of the Nunnery.  Besides these remains of\necclesiastical antiquity, there are some of an earlier date, and\npointing to the existence on the island of forms of worship and\nbelief different from those of Christianity.  These are the\ncircular Cairns which are found in various parts, and which seem\nto have been of Druidical origin.  It is in reference to all\nthese remains of ancient religion that Johnson exclaims, \"That\nman is little to be envied whose patriotism would not gain force\nupon the plains of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer\namid the ruins of Iona.\"\n\nIn the Lord of the Isles, Scott beautifully contrasts the church\non Iona with the Cave of Staffa, opposite:\n\n  \"Nature herself, it seemed, would raise\n  A minister to her Maker's praise!\n  Not for a meaner use ascend\n  Her columns or her arches bend;\n  Nor of a theme less solemn tells\n  The mighty surge that ebbs and swells,\n  And still between each awful pause,\n  From the high vault an answer draws,\n  In varied tone, prolonged and high,\n  That mocks the organ's melody;\n  Nor doth its entrance front in vain\n  To old Iona's holy fane,\n  That Nature's voice might seem to say,\n  Well hast thou done, frail child of clay,\n  Thy humble powers that stately shrine\n  Tasked high and hard but witness mine.\"\n\n\nSKETCH OF THE HISTORY OF GREEK SCULPTURE\n\nWe have seen throughout the course of this book how the Greek and\nNorse myths have furnished material for the poets, not only of\nGreece and Scandinavia, but also of modern times.  In the same\nway these stories have been found capable of artistic treatment\nby painters, sculptors, and even by musicians.  The story of\nCupid and Psyche has not only been retold by poets from Apuleius\nto William Morris, but also drawn out in a series of frescoes by\nRaphael, and sculptured in marble by Canova.  Even to enumerate\nthe works of art of the modern and ancient world which depend for\ntheir subject-matter upon mythology would be a task for a book by\nitself.  As we have been able to give only a few illustrations of\nthe poetic treatment of some of the principal myths, so we shall\nhave to content ourselves with a similarly limited view of the\npart played by them in other fields of art.\n\nOf the statues made by the ancients themselves to represent their\ngreater deities, a few have been already commented on.  But it\nmust not be thought that these splendid examples of plastic art,\nthe Olympian Jupiter and the Athene of the Parthenon, represent\nthe earliest attempts of the Greeks to give form to their myths\nin sculpture.  Our most primitive sources of knowledge of much of\nGreek mythology are the Homeric poems, where the stories of\nAchilles and Ulysses have already taken on a poetic form, almost\nthe highest conceivable.  But in the other arts, Greek genius\nlagged behind.  At the time when the Homeric poems were written,\nwe find no traces of columned temples or magnificent statues.\nScarcely were the domestic arts sufficiently advanced to allow\nthe poet to describe dwellings glorious enough for his heroes to\nlive in, or articles of common utility fit for their use.  Of the\ntwo most famous works of art mentioned in the Iliad we must think\nof the statue of Athene at Troy (the Palladium) as a rude carving\nperhaps of wood, the arms of the goddess separated from the body\nonly enough to allow her to hold the lance and spindle, which\nwere the signs of her divinity.  The splendor of the shield of\nAchilles must be attributed largely to the rich imagination of\nthe poet.\n\nOther works of art of this primitive age we know from\ndescriptions in later classical writers.  They attributed the\nrude statues which had come down to them to Daedalus and his\npupils, and beheld them with wonder at their uncouth ugliness.\nIt was long thought that these beginnings of Greek sculpture were\nto be traced to Egypt, but now-a-days scholars are inclined to\ntake a different view.  Egyptian sculpture was closely allied to\narchitecture; the statues were frequently used for the columns of\ntemples.  Thus sculpture was subordinated to purely mechanical\nprinciples, and human figures were represented altogether in\naccordance with established conventions.  Greek sculpture, on the\ncontrary, even in its primitive forms was eminently natural,\ncapable of developing a high degree of realism.  From the first\nit was decorative in character, and this left the artist free to\nexecute in his own way, provided only that the result should be\nin accordance with the highest type of beauty which he could\nconceive.  An example of this early decorative art was the chest\nof Kypselos, on which stories from Homer were depicted in\nsuccessive bands, the reliefs being partly inlaid with gold and\nivory.\n\nFrom the sixth century before Christ date three processes of\ngreat importance in the development of sculpture; the art of\ncasting in bronze, the chiselling of marble, and the inlaying of\ngold and ivory on wood (chryselephantine work).  As early Greek\nliterature developed first among the island Greeks, so the\ninvention of these three methods of art must br attributed to the\ncolonists away from the original Hellas.  To the Samians is\nprobably due the invention of bronze casting, to the Chians the\nbeginning of sculpture in marble.  This latter development opened\nto Greek sculpture its great future.  Marble work was carried on\nby a race of artists beginning with Melas in the seventh century\nand coming down to Boupalos and Athenis, the sons of Achermos,\nwhose works survived to the time of Augustus.  Chryselephantine\nsculpture began in Crete.\n\nAmong the earliest of the Greek sculptors whose names have come\ndown to us was Canachos, the Sicyonian.  His masterpiece was the\nApollo Philesios, in bronze, made for the temple of Didymas.  The\nstatue no longer exists, but there are a number of ancient\nmonuments which may be taken as fairly close copies of it, or at\nleast as strongly suggestive of the style of Canachos, among\nwhich are the Payne-Knight Apollo at the British Museum, and the\nPiombino Apollo at the Louvre.  In this latter statue the god\nstands erect with the left foot slightly advanced, and the hands\noutstretched.  The socket of the eye is hollow and was probably\nfilled with some bright substance.  Canachos was undoubtedly an\ninnovator, and in the stronger modelling of the head and neck,\nthe more vigorous posture of the body of his statue, he shows an\nadvance on the more conventional and limited art of his\ngeneration.\n\nAs Greek sculpture progressed, schools of artists arose in\nvarious cities, dependent usually for their fame on the ability\nof some individual sculptor.  \"Among these schools, those of\nAegina and Athens are the most important.  Of the former school\nthe works of Onatus are by far the most notable.\n\nOnatus was a contemporary of Canachos, and reached the height of\nhis fame in the middle of the fifth century before Christ.  His\nmost famous work was the scene where the Greek heroes draw lots\nfor an opponent to Hector.  It is not certain whether Onatus\nsculptured the groups which adorned the pediments of the temple\nof Athena at Aegina, groups now in the Glyptothek at Munich, but\ncertainly these famous statues are decidedly in his style.  Both\npediments represent the battle over the body of Patroclus.  The\neast pediment shows the struggle between Heracles and Laomedon.\nIn each group a fallen warrior lies at the feet of the goddess,\nover whom she extends her protection.  The Aeginetan marbles show\nthe traces of dying archaism.  The figures of the warriors are\nstrongly moulded, muscular, but without grace.  The same type is\nreproduced again and again among them.  Even the wounded scarcely\ndepart from it.  The statues of the eastern pediment are probably\nlater in date than those of the western, and in the former the\ndying warrior exhibits actual weakness and pain.  In the western\npediment the statue of the goddess is thoroughly archaic, stiff,\nuncompromisingly harsh, the features frozen into a conventional\nsmile.  In the eastern group the goddess, though still\nungraceful, is more distinctly in action, and seems about to take\npart in the struggle.  The Heracles of the eastern pediment, a\nwarrior supported on one knee and drawing his bow, is, for the\ntime, wonderfully vivid and strong.  All of these statues are\nevidence of the rapid progress which Greek sculpture was making\nin the fifth century against the demands of hieratic\nconventionality.\n\nThe contemporary Athenian school boasted the names of Hegias,\nCritios, and Nesiotes. Their works have all perished, but a copy\nof one of the most famous works of Critios and Nesiotes, the\nstatue of the Tyrannicides, is to be found in the Museum of\nNaples.  Harmodius and Aristogeiton killed, in 514 B.C., the\ntyrant-ruler of Athens, Hipparchus.  In consequence of this\nAthens soon became a republic, and the names of the first rebels\nwere held in great honor.  Their statues were set up on the\nAcropolis, first a group by Antenor, then the group in question\nby Critios and Nesiotes after the first had been carried away by\nXerxes.  The heroes, as we learn from the copies in Naples, were\nrepresented as rushing forward, one with a naked sword flashing\nabove his head, the other with a mantle for defence thrown over\nhis left arm.  They differ in every detail of action and pose,\nyet they exemplify the same emotion, a common impulse to perform\nthe same deed.\n\nAt Argus, contemporary with these early schools of Athens and\nAegina, was a school of artists depending on the fame of the\ngreat sculptor Ageladas.  He was distinguished for his statues in\nbronze of Zeus and Heracles, but his great distinction is not\nthrough works of his own, but is due to the fact that he was the\nteacher of Myron, Polycleitos, and Pheidias.  These names with\nthose of Pythagoras and Calamis bring us to the glorious\nflowering time of Greek sculpture.\n\nCalamis, somewhat older than the others, was an Athenian, at\nleast by residence.  He carried on the measure of perfection\nwhich Athenian sculpture had already attained, and added grace\nand charm to the already powerful model which earlier workers had\nleft him.  None of his works survive, but from notices of critics\nwe know that he excelled especially in modelling horses and other\nanimals.  His two race-horses in memory of the victory of Hiero\nof Syracuse at Olympia in 468 were considered unsurpassable.\nHowever, it is related that Praxiteles removed the charioteer\nfrom one of the groups of Calamis and replaced it by one of his\nown statues \"that the men of Calamis might not be inferior to his\nhorses.\"  Thus it would appear that Calamis was less successful\nin dealing with the human body, though a statue of Aphrodite from\nhis hand was proverbial, under the name Sosandra, for its grace\nand grave beauty.\n\nPythagoras of Rhegium carried on the realism, truth to nature,\nwhich was beginning to appear as an ideal of artistic\nrepresentation.  He is said to have been the first sculptor to\nmark the veins and sinews on the body.\n\nIn this vivid naturalness Pythagoras was himself far surpassed by\nMyron.  Pythagoras had seen the importance of showing the effect\nof action in every portion of the body.  Myron carried the\nminuteness of representation so far that his Statue of Ladas, the\nrunner, was spoken of not as a runner, but as a BREATHER.  This\nstatue represented the victor of the foot-race falling,\noverstrained and dying, at the goal, the last breath from the\ntired lungs yet hovering upon the lips.  More famous than the\nLadas is the Discobolos , or disc-thrower, of which copies exist\nat Rome, one being at the Vatican, the other at the Palazzo\nMassimi alle Colonne.  These, though doubtless far behind the\noriginal, serve to show the marvellous power of portraying\nintense action which the sculptor possessed.  The athlete is\nrepresented at the precise instant when he has brought the\ngreatest possible bodily strength into play in order to give to\nthe disc its highest force.  The body is bent forward, the toes\nof one foot cling to the ground, the muscles of the torso are\nstrained, the whole body is in an attitude of violent tension\nwhich can endure only for an instant.  Yet the face is free from\ncontortion, free from any trace of effort, calm and beautiful.\nThis shows that Myron, intent as he was upon reproducing nature,\ncould yet depart from his realistic formulae when the\nrequirements of beautiful art demanded it.\n\nThe same delight in rapid momentary action which characterized\nthe two statues of Myron already mentioned appears in a third,\nthe statue of Marsyas astonished at the flute which Athene had\nthrown away, and which was to lead its finder into his fatal\ncontest with Apollo.  A copy of this work at the Lateran Museum\nrepresents the satyr starting back in a rapid mingling of desire\nand fear, which is stamped on his heavy face, as well as\nindicated in the movement of his body.\n\nMyron's realism again found expression in the bronze cow,\ncelebrated by the epigrams of contemporary poets for its striking\nnaturalness.  \"Shepherd, pasture thy flock at a little distance,\nlest thinking thou seest the cow of Myron breathe, thou shouldst\nwish to lead it away with thine oxen,\" was one of them.\n\nThe value and originality of Myron's contributions to the\nprogress of Greek sculpture were so great that he left behind him\na considerable number of artists devoted to his methods.  His son\nLykios followed his father closely.  In statues on the Acropolis\nrepresenting two boys, one bearing a basin, one blowing the coals\nin a censer into a flame, he reminds one of the Ladas, especially\nin the second, where the action of breathing is exemplified in\nevery movement of the body.  Another famous work by a follower of\nMyron was the boy plucking a thorn from his foot, a copy of which\nis in the Rothschild collection.\n\nThe frieze of the Temple of Apollo at Phigales has also been\nattributed to the school of Myron.  The remnants of this frieze,\nnow in the British Museum, show the battle of the Centaurs and\nAmazons.  The figures have not the calm stateliness of bearing\nwhich characterizes those of the Parthenon frieze, but instead\nexhibit a wild vehemence of action which is, perhaps, directly\ndue to the influence of Myron.\n\nAnother pupil of Ageladas, a somewhat younger contemporary of\nPheidias, was Polycleitos.  He excelled in representations of\nhuman, bodily beauty.  Perfection of form was his aim, and so\nnearly did he seem to the ancients to have attained this object\nthat his Doryphoros was taken by them as a model of the human\nfigure.  A copy of this statue exists in the Museum of Naples\nand represents a youth in the attitude of bearing a lance, quiet\nand reserved.  The figure is rather heavily built, firm,\npowerful, and yet graceful, though hardly light enough to justify\nthe praise of perfection which has been lavished upon it.\n\nA companion statue to the Doryphorus of Polycleitos was his\nstatue of the Diadumenos, or boy binding his head with a fillet.\nA supposed copy of this exists in the British Museum.  It\npresents the same general characteristics as the Doryphorus, a\nwell-modelled but thick-set figure standing in an attitude of\nrepose.\n\nWhat Polycleitos did for the male form in these two statues he\ndid for the female form in his Amazon, which, according to a\ndoubtful story, was adjudged in competition superior to a work by\nPheidias.  A statue supposed to be a copy of this masterpiece of\nPolycleitos is now in the Berlin Museum.  It represents a woman\nstanding in a graceful attitude beside a pillar, her left arm\nthrown above her head to free her wounded breast.  The sculptor\nhas succeeded admirably in catching the muscular force and firm\nhard flesh beneath the graceful curves of the woman warrior.\n\nPolycleitos won his chief successes in portraying human figures.\nHis statues of divinities are not numerous: a Zeus at Argos, an\nAphrodite at Amyclae, and, more famous than either, the\nchryselephantine Hera for a temple between Argos and Mycenae.\nThe goddess was represented as seated on a throne of gold, with\nbare head and arms.  In her right hand was the sceptre crowned\nwith the cuckoo, symbol of conjugal fidelity; in her left, the\npomegranate.  There exists no certain copy of the Hera of\nPolycleitos.  The head of Hera in Naples may, perhaps, give us\nsome idea of the type of divine beauty preferred by the sculptor\nwho was preeminent for his devotion to human beauty.\n\nPolycleitos was much praised by the Romans Quintilian and Cicero,\nwho nevertheless, held that though he surpassed the beauty of man\nin nature, yet he did not approach the beauty of the gods.  It\nwas reserved for Pheidias to portray the highest conceptions of\ndivinity of which the Greek mind was capable in his statues of\nAthene in the Parthenon at Athens, and the Zeus of Olympus.\n\nPheidias lived in the golden age of Athenian art.  The victory of\nGreece against Persia had been due in large measure to Athens,\nand the results of the political success fell largely to her.  It\nis true the Persians had held the ground of Athens for weeks, and\nwhen, after the victory of Salamis, the people returned to their\ncity, they found it in ruins.  But the spirit of the Athenians\nhad been stirred, and in spite of the hostility of Persia, the\njealousy of neighboring states, and the ruin of the city, the\npeople felt new confidence in themselves and their divinity, and\nwere more than ever ready to strive for the leadership of Greece.\nReligious feeling, gratitude to the gods who had preserved them,\nand civic pride in the glory of their own victorious city, all\ninspired the Athenians.  After the winter in which the Persians\nwere finally beaten at Plataea, the Athenians began to rebuild.\nFor a while their efforts were confined to rendering the city\nhabitable and defensible, since the activity of the little state\nwas largely political.  But when th leadership of Athens in\nGreece had become firmly established under Theistocles and Cimon,\nthe third president of the democracy, Pericles, found leisure to\nturn to the artistic development of the city.  The time was ripe,\nfor the artistic progress of the people had been no less marked\nthan their political.  The same long training in valor and\ntemperance which gave Athens her statesmen, Aristides and\nPericles, gave her her artists and poets also.  Pericles became\npresident of the city in 444 B.C., just at the time when the\ndecorative arts were approaching perfection under Pheidias.\n\nPheidias was an Athenian by birth, the son of Charmides.  He\nstudied first under Hegias, then under Ageladas the Argive.  He\nbecame the most famous sculptor of his time, and when Pericles\nwanted a director for his great monumental works at Athens, he\nsummoned Pheidias.  Artists from all over Hellas put themselves\nat his disposal, and under his direction the Parthenon was built\nand adorned with the most splendid statuary the world has ever\nknown.\n\nThe Parthenon was fashioned in honor of Athene or Minerva, the\nguardian deity of Athens, the preserver of Hellas, whom the\nAthenians in their gratitude sought to make the sovereign goddess\nof the land which she had saved.  The eastern gable of the temple\nwas adorned with a group representing the appearance of Minerva\nbefore the gods of Olympus.  In the left angle of the gable\nappeared Helios, the dawn, rising from the sea.  In the right\nangle Selene, evening, sank from sight.  Next to Helios was a\nfigure representing either Dionysus or Olympus, and beside were\nseated two figures, perhaps Persephone and Demeter, perhaps two\nHorae.  Approaching these as a messenger was Iris.  Balancing\nthese figures on the side next Selene were two figures,\nrepresenting Aphrodite in the arms of Peitho, or perhaps\nThalassa, goddess of the sea, leaning against Gaia, the earth.\nNearer the centre on this side was Hestia, to whom Hermes brought\nthe tidings.  The central group is totally lost, but must have\nbeen made up of Zeus, Athene, and Vulcan, with, perhaps, others\nof the greater divinities.\n\nThe group of the western pediment represented Athene and\nPoseidon, contesting for the supremacy of Athens.  Athene's\nchariot is driven by Victory, Poseidon's by Amphitrite.  Although\nthe greater part of the attendant deities have disappeared, we\nknow the gods of the rivers of Athens, Eridanas and Ilissos, in\nreclining postures filled the corners of the pediment.  One of\nthese has survived, and remains in its perfection of grace and\nimmortal beauty to attest the wonderful skill that directed the\nchiselling of the whole group.\n\nAlthough the gable groups have suffered terribly in the historic\nvicissitudes of the Parthenon, still enough remains of them to\nshow the dignity of their conception, the rhythm of composition,\nand the splendid freedom of their workmanship.  The fragments\nwere purchased by Lord Elgin early in this century and are now in\nthe British Museum.\n\nThe frieze of the Parthenon, executed under the supervision of\nPheidias, represented one of the most glorious religious\nceremonies of the Greek, the Pan-Athenaic procession.  The\ndeities surround Zeus as spectators of the scene, and toward them\nwinds the long line of virgins bearing incense, herds of animals\nfor sacrifice, players upon the lute and lyre, chariots and\nriders.  On the western front the movement has not yet begun, and\nthe youths and men stand in disorder, some binding their mantles,\nsome mounting their horses.  The frieze is noteworthy for its\nexpression of physical and intellectual beauty which marked the\nhighest conceptions of Greek art, and for the studied mingling of\nforcible action and gracious repose.  The larger part of this\nfrieze has been preserved and is to be seen at the British\nMuseum.\n\nThe third group of Parthenon sculptures, the ornaments of the\nmetope, represents the contest between centaurs and the Lapithae\nwith some scenes interspersed of which the subjects cannot now be\ndetermined.  The frieze is in low relief, the figures scarcely\nstarting from the background.  The sculptures of the metope, on\nthe contrary, are in high relief, frequently giving the\nimpression of marbles detached from the background altogether.\nThey were, moreover, colored.  Or course, Pheidias himself cannot\nhave had more than the share of general director in the\nsculptures of the metope; many of them are manifestly executed by\ninferior hands.  Nevertheless, the mind of a great designer is\nevident in the wonderful variety of posture and action which the\nfigures show.  Indeed, when we consider the immense number of\nfigures employed, it becomes evident that not even all the\nsculptures of the pediments can have been executed entirely by\nPheidias, who was already probably well advanced in life when he\nbegan the Parthenon decorations; yet all the sculptures were the\nwork of Pheidias or of pupils working under him, and although\ntraces may be found of the influence of other artists,   of\nMyron, for example, in the freedom and naturalness of the action\nin the figures of the frieze,   yet all the decorations of the\nParthenon may fairly be said to belong to the Pheidian school of\nsculpture.\n\nThe fame of Pheidias himself, however, rested very largely on\nthree great pieces of art work: The Athene Promachos, the Athene\nParthenos, and the Olympian Zeus.  The first of these was a work\nof Pheidias's youth.  It represented the goddess standing gazing\ntoward Athens lovingly and protectingly.  She held a spear in one\nhand, the other supported a buckler.  The statue was nine feet\nhigh.  It was dignified and noble, but at the time of its\nconception Pheidias had not freed himself from the convention and\ntraditions of the earlier school, and the stiff folds of the\ntunic, the cold demeanor of the goddess, recall the masters whom\nPheidias was destined to supersede.  No copy of this statue\nsurvives, and hence a description of it must be largely\nconjectural, made up from hints gleaned from Athenian coins.\n\nPheidias sculptured other statues of Athene, but none so\nwonderful as the Athene Parthenos, which, with the Olympian Zeus,\nwas the wonder and admiration of the Greek world.  The Athene\nParthenos was designed to stand as an outward symbol of the\ndivinity in whose protecting might the city had conquered and\ngrown strong, in whose honor the temple had been built in which\nthis statue was to shine as queen.  The Olympian Zeus was the\nrepresentative of that greater divinity which all Hellas united\nin honoring.  We may gain from the words of Pausanias some idea\nof the magnificence of this statue, but of its unutterable\nmajesty we can only form faint images in the mind, remembering\nthe strength and grace of the figures of the pediments of the\ntemple at Athens.  \"Zeus,\" says Pausanias, \"is seated on a throne\nof ivory and gold; upon his head is laced a garland made in\nimitation of olive leaves.  He bears a Victory in his right hand,\nalso crowned and made in gold and ivory, and holding in her right\nhand a little fillet.  In his left hand the god holds a sceptre,\nmade of all kinds of metals; the bird perched on the tip of the\nsceptre is an eagle.  The shoes of Zeus are also of gold, and of\ngold his mantle, and underneath this mantle are figures and\nlilies inlaid.\"\n\nBoth the Olympian Zeus and the Athene were of chryselephantine\nwork offering enormous technical difficulties, but in spite of\nthis both showed almost absolute perfection of form united with\nbeauty of intellectual character to represent the godhead\nincarnate in human substance.  These two statues may be taken as\nthe noblest creations of the Greek imagination when directed to\nthe highest objects of its contemplation.  The beauty of the\nOlympian Zeus, according to Quintilian, \"added a new element to\nreligion.\"\n\nIn the works of art just mentioned the creative force of the\nGreeks attained its highest success.  After the death of Pheidias\nhis methods were carried on in a way by the sculptors who had\nworked under him and become subject to his influence; but as\nyears went on, with less and less to remind us of the supreme\nperfection of the master.  Among these pupils of Pheidias were\nAgoracritos and Colotes in Athens, Paionios, and Alcamenes.  Of\nPaionios fortunately one statue survives in regard to which there\ncan be no doubt.  The Victory erected to the Olympian Zeus shows\na tall goddess, strongly yet gracefully carved, posed forward\nwith her drapery flattened closely against her body in front as\nif by the wind, and streaming freely behind.  The masterpiece of\nAlcamenes, an Aphrodite, is known only by descriptions.  The\npediments of the temple at Olympia have been assigned, by\ntradition, one to Alcamenes, one to Paionios.  They are, however,\nso thoroughly archaic in style that it seems impossible to\nreconcile them with what we know of the work of the men to whom\nthey are attributed.  The group of the eastern front represented\nthe chariot races of Oinomaos and Pelops; that of the western,\nthe struggle of the Centaurs and Lapithae.  In the latter the\naction is extremely violent, only the Apollo in the midst is calm\nand commanding.  In both pediments there are decided approaches\nto realism.\n\nIn Athens, after Pheidias, the greatest sculptures were those\nused to adorn the Erechtheion.  The group of Caryatids, maidens\nwho stand erect and firm, bearing upon their heads the weight of\nthe porch, is justly celebrated as an architectural device.  At\nthe same time, the maidens, though thus performing the work of\ncolumns, do not lose the grace and charm which naturally belongs\nto them.\n\nAnother post-Pheidian work at Athens was the temple of Nike\nApteros, the wingless Victory.  The bas-reliefs from this temple,\nnow in the Acropolis Museum at Athens, one representing the\nVictory stooping to tie her sandal, another, the Victory crowning\na trophy, recall the consummate grace of the art of Pheidias, the\ngreatest Greek art.\n\nAgoracritos left behind him works at Athens which in their\nperfection could scarcely be distinguished from the works of\nPheidias himself, none of which have come down to us.  But from\nthe time of the Peloponnesian war, the seeds of decay were in the\nart of Hellas, and they ripened fast.  In one direction\nCallimachus carried refined delicacy and formal perfection to\nexcess; and in the other Demetrios, the portrait sculptor, put by\nideal beauty for the striking characteristics of realism.  Thus\nthe strict reserve, the earnest simplicity of Pheidias and his\ncontemporaries, were sacrificed   sacrificed partly, it is true,\nto the requirements of a fuller spiritual life, partly to the\ndemands of a wider knowledge and deeper passion.  The legitimate\neffects of sculpture are strictly limited.  Sculpture is fitted\nto express not temporary, accidental feeling, but permanent\ncharacter; not violent action, but repose.  In the great work of\nthe golden age the thought of the artist was happily limited so\nthat the form was adequate to its expression.  One single motive\nwas all that he tried to express   a motive uncomplicated by\ndetails of specific situation, a type of general beauty unmixed\nwith the peculiar suggestions of special and individual emotion.\nWhen the onward impulse led the artist to pass over the severe\nlimits which bounded the thought of the earlier school, he found\nhis medium becoming less adequate to the demands of his more\ndetailed and circumstantial mental conception.  The later\nsculpture, therefore, lacks in some measure the repose and entire\nassurance of the earlier.  The earlier sculpture confines itself\nto broad, central lines of heroic and divine character, as in the\ntwo masterpieces of Pheidias.  The latter dealt in great\nelaboration with the details and elements of the stories and\ncharacters that formed its subjects, as in the Niobe group, or\nthe Laocoon, to be mentioned later.\n\nThese modern tendencies produced as the greatest artists of the\nlater Greek type Scopas and Praxiteles.\n\nBetween these, however, and the earlier school which they\nsuperseded came the Athenian Kephisodotos, the father, it may be\nsupposed of Praxiteles.  His fame rests upon a single work, a\ncopy of which has been discovered, the Eirene and Ploutos.  In\nthis, while the simplicity and strictness of the Pheidian ideal\nhave been largely preserved, it has been used as the vehicle of\ndeeper feeling and more spiritual life.\n\nScopas was born at Paros, and lived during the fist half of the\nfourth century.  He did much decorative work including the\npediments of the temple of Athena at Tegea.  He participated also\nin the decoration of the Mausoleum erected by Artemisia to the\nmemory of her husband.  In this latter, the battle of the\nAmazons, though probably not the work of Scopas himself, shows in\nthe violence of its attitudes and the pathos of its action the\nnew elements of interest in Greek art with the introduction of\nwhich Scopas is connected.  The fame of Scopas rests principally\non the Niobe group which is attributed to him.  The sculpture\nrepresents the wife of Amphion at the moment when the curse of\nApollo and Diana falls upon her, and her children are slain\nbefore her eyes.  The children, already feeling the arrows of the\ngods, are flying to her for protection.  She tries in vain to\nshield her youngest born beneath her mantle, and turns as if to\nhide her face with its motherly pride just giving place to\ndespair and agony.  The whole group is free from contortion and\ngrandly tragic.  The original exists no longer, but copies of\nparts of the group are found in the Uffizi Gallery at Florence.\n\nThe Niobe group shows the distinction between Scopas and\nPraxiteles and the earlier artists in choice of subject and mode\nof treatment.  The same distinction is shown by the Raging\nBacchante of Scopas.  The head is thrown back, the hair loosened,\nthe garments floating in the wind,   an ecstacy of wild, torrent-\nlike action.\n\nOf the work of Praxiteles we know more directly than of the work\nof any other Greek sculptor of the same remoteness, for one\nstatue has come down to us actually from the master's own hand,\nand we possess good copies of several others.  His statues of\nAphrodite, of which there were at least five, are known to us by\nthe figures on coins and by two works in the same style, the\nAphrodite in the Glyptothek, and that of the Vatican.  The most\nfamous of all was the Aphrodite of Cnidos, which was ranked with\nthe Olympian Zeus and was called one of the wonders of te world.\nKing Nicomedes of Bithynia offered vainly to the people of Cnidos\nthe entire amount of their state debt for its possession.  Lucian\ndescribed the goddess as having a smile somewhat proud and\ndisdainful; yet the eyes, moist and kindly, glowed with\ntenderness and passion, and the graceful lines of the shoulders,\nthe voluptuous curves of the thighs, are full of sensuous\nfeeling.  The goddess, as represented in coins, stood beside a\nvase, over which her drapery is falling, while with her right\nhand she shields herself modestly.  The head of Aphrodite in the\nBritish Museum, with its pure brows, its delicate, voluptuous\nlips, and sweet, soft skin, is, perhaps, the nearest approach\nwhich we possess to the glorious beauty of the original.\n\nOther Aphrodites, the draped statue of Cos among them, and\nseveral statues of Eros, representing tender, effeminate youths,\nillustrate further the departure which Praxiteles marks from the\nrestraint of Pheidias.  Another of his masculine figures is the\ngraceful Apollo with the Lizard.  The god, strong in his youthful\nsuppleness, is leaning against a tree threatening with his darts\na small lizard which is seeking to climb up.  Still another type\nof masculine grace left us by Praxiteles is his statue of the\nSatyr, of which a copy exists in the Capitoline Museum.  The\nSatyr, in the hands of Praxiteles, lost all his ancient\nuncouthness, and became a strong, graceful youth, with soft, full\nform.  In the Capitoline representation the boy is leaning easily\nagainst a tree, throwing his body into the most indolent posture,\nwhich brings out the soft, feminine curves of hips and legs.  In\nfact, so thoroughly is the feminine principle worked into the\nstatues of the Apollo, the Eros, and the Satyr, that this\ncharacteristic became considered typical of Praxiteles, and when,\nin 1877, was discovered the one authentic work which we possess\nof this artist, the great Hermes of Olympia, critics were at a\nloss to reconcile this figure with what was already known of the\nsculptor's work, some holding that it must be a work of his\nyouth, when, through his father, Kephisodotos, he felt the force\nof the Pheidian tradition, others that there must have been two\nsculptors bearing the great name of Praxiteles.\n\nThe Hermes was found lacking the right arm and both legs below\nthe knees, but the marvellous head and torso are perfectly\npreserved.  The god is without the traditional symbols of his\ndivinity.  He is merely a beautiful man.  He stands leaning\neasily against a tree, supporting on one arm the child Dionysus,\nto whom he turns his gracious head with the devotion and love of\na protector.  The face, in its expression of sweet majesty, is\ndistinctly a personal conception.  The low forehead, the eyes far\napart, the small, playful mouth, the round, dimpled chin, all\nbear evidence to the individual quality which Praxiteles infused\ninto the ideal thought of the god.  The body, though at rest, is\ninstinct with life and activity, in spite of its grace.  In\nshort, the form of the god has the superb perfection, as the face\nhas the dignity, which was attributed to Pheidias.  Nevertheless,\nthe Hermes illustrates sensual loveliness of the later school.\nThe freedom with which the god is conceived belongs to an age\nwhen the chains of religious belief sat lightly upon the artist.\nThe gds of Praxiteles are the gods of human experience, and in\nhis treatment of them he does not always escape the tendency of\nthe age of decline to put pathos and passion in the place of\neternal majesty.\n\nThe influence of Scopas and Praxiteles continued to be felt\nthrough a number of artists who worked in sufficient harmony with\nthem to be properly called of their school.  To one of these\nfollowers of Praxiteles, some say as a copy of a work of the\nmaster himself, we must attribute the Demeter now in the British\nMuseum.  This is  a pathetic illustration of suffering\nmotherhood.  There is no exaggeration in the grief, only the calm\ndignity of a sorrow which in spite of hope refuses to be\ncomforted.\n\nAnother work of an unknown artist, probably a follower of Scopas,\nis the splendid Victory of Samothrace, now in the Louvre.  The\ngoddess, with her great wings outspread behind her, is being\ncarried forward, her firm rounded limbs striking through the\ndraperies which flutter behind her, and fall about her in soft\nfolds.  Vigorous and stately, the goddess poises herself on the\nprow of the ship, swaying with the impulse of conquering daring\nand strength.\n\nAnother statue which belongs, so far as artistic reasoning may\ncarry us, to the period and school of Praxiteles, is the so-\ncalled Venus of Milo.  The proper title to be given to this\nstatue is doubtful, for the drapery corresponds to that of the\nRoman type of Victory, and if we could be sure that the goddess\nonce held the shield of conquest in her now broken arms we should\nbe forced to call the figure a Victory and place its date no\nearlier than the second century B.C.  However this may be, the\nstatue is justly one of the most famous in the world.  It\nrepresents an ideal of purity and sweetness.  There is not a\ntrace of coarseness or immodesty in the half-naked woman who\nstands perfect in the maidenly dignity of her own conquering\nfairness.  Her serious yet smiling face, her graceful form, the\ndelicacy of feeling in attitude and gaze, the tender moulding of\nbreast and limbs, make it a worthy companion of the Hermes or\nPraxiteles.  It seems scarcely possible that it should not have\nsprung from the inspiration of his example.\n\nThe last of the great sculptors of Greece was Lysippos of Sikyou.\nHe differed from Pheidias on the one hand and from Polycleitos on\nthe other.  Pheidias strove to make his gods all god-like;\nLysippos was content to represent them merely as exaggerated\nhuman beings; but therein he differed also from Polycleitos, who\naimed to model the human body with the beauty only which actually\nexisted in it.  Lysippos felt that he must set the standard of\nhuman perfection higher than it appears in the average of human\nexamples.  Hence we have from him the statues of Heracles, in\nwhich the ideal of manly strength was carried far beyond the\nrange of human possibility.  A reminiscence of this conception of\nLysippos may be found in the Farnese Heracles of Glycon, now in\nthe Museum of Naples.  Lysippos also sculptured four statues of\nZeus, which depended for their interest largely on their heroic\nsize.\n\nLysippos won much fame by his statues of Alexander the Great, but\nhe is chiefly known to us by his statue of the athlete scraping\nhimself with a strigil, of which an authentic copy is in the\nVatican.  The figure differs decidedly from the thick-set, rather\nheavy figures of Polycleitos, being tall, and slender in spite of\nits robustness.  The head is small, the torso is small at the\nwaist, but strong, and the whole body is splendidly active.\n\nThe changes in the models of earlier sculptors made by Lysippos\nwere of sufficient importance to give rise to a school which was\ncarried on by his sons and others, producing among many famous\nworks the Barberini Faun, now at the Glyptothek, Munich.  The\nenormous Colossus of Rhodes was also the work of a disciple of\nLysippos.\n\nBut from this time the downward tendency in Greek art is only too\napparent, and very rapid.  The spread of Greek influence over\nAsia, and later, in consequence of the conquest of Greece by\nRome, over Europe, had the effect of widening the market for\nGreek production, but of drying up the sources of what was vital\nin that production.  Athens and Sikyou became mere provincial\ncities, and were shorn thenceforth of all artistic significance;\nand Greek art, thus deprived of the roots of its life, continued\nto grow for a while with a rank luxuriance of production, but\nsoon became normal and conventional.  The artists who followed\nLysippos contented themselves chiefly with seeking a merely\ntechnical perfection in reproducing the creations of the earlier\nand more original age.\n\nAt Pergamon under Attalus, in the last years of the third\ncentury, there was something of an artistic revival.  This\nAttalus successfully defended his country against an overwhelming\nattack of the Gauls from the north.  To celebrate this victory,\nan altar was erected to Zeus on the Acropolis of Pergamon, of\nwhich the frieze represented the contest between Zeus and the\ngiants.  These sculptures are now to be found in Berlin.  They\nare carved in high relief; the giants with muscles strained and\ndistended, their bodies writhing in the contortions of effort and\nsuffering; the gods, no longer calm and restrained, but\nthemselves overcome with the ardor of battle.  Zeus stretches his\narms over the battle-field hurling destruction everywhere.\nAthene turns from the field, dragging at her heels a young giant\nwhom she has conquered, and reaches forward to the crown of\nvictory.  The wild, passionate action of the whole work remove it\nfar from the firm, orderly work of Pheidias, and carry it almost\nto the extreme of pathetic representation in sculpture shown by\nthe Laocoon.\n\nThe contests with the Gauls, the fear inspired by the huge forms\nof the barbarians, seem to have influenced powerfully the\nimaginative conceptions of the sculptors of the school of\nPergamon.  One of the most famous works which they have left is\nthe figure long known as the Dying Gladiator, of which a copy\nexists in the Capitoline Museum.  This represents a Gaul sinking\nwounded to the ground, supporting himself on his right arm.  It\nis remarkable for its stern realism.  The pain and sense of\ndefeat comes out in every feature.  Moreover, the nationality of\nthe fallen warrior is clearly expressed in the deep indentation\nbetween the heavy brow and the prominent nose, in the face,\nshaven, except the upper lip, in the uncouth, fleshy body, in the\nrough hands and feet.  Usually the artist preferred to hint at\nthe race by some peculiarities of costume.  Here nothing but\nuncompromising realism of feature will satisfy the sculptor.  A\ncompanion piece to the Wounded Gaul, though less famous, is the\ngroup of the Villa Ludovisi, which represents a Gaul, who has\nslain his wife, in the act of stabbing himself in the neck.\n\nIn addition to inspiring the sculptures at Pergamon, Attalus\ndedicated to the gods of Athens a votive offering in return for\nthe help which they had given him.  This was placed on the\nAcropolis at Athens.  It consisted of four groups, representing\nthe gigantomachia or giant combat, the battle of the Amazons, the\nbattle of Marathon, and the victory of Attalus.  Figures from\nthese survive, a dead Amazon at Naples and a kneeling Persian at\nthe Vatican being the best known.\n\nAnother state which became famous in the declining days of Greek\nart was the republic of Rhodes.  The Rhodian sculptors learned\ntheir anatomy from Lysippos, and caught their dramatic instinct\nfrom the artists of Pergamon.  Two of the most famous sculpture\ngroups in the world were produced at Rhodes,   the Laocoon, now\nat the Vatican, and the Farnese Bull, now at Naples.  The former\nwas the work of three artists, given by Pliny as Agesandros,\nAthanodorus, and Polydorus.  It has been accepted as one of the\nmasterpieces of the world, but as we shall see, it is manifestly\na work of a time of decadence.\n\nThe Laocoon illustrates excellently the extreme results of the\npathetic tendency.  The priest Laocoon is represented at the\nmoment when the serpents of Apollo surround him and his two sons,\nborn through their father's sin, and bear them all three down to\ndestruction.  The younger son, fatally bitten, falls back in\ndeath agony.  The father yields slowly, his desperation giving\nway before the merciless strength of the serpents.  The elder son\nshrinks away in horror though bound fast by the inevitable coils.\n\nThe Laocoon shows the pathetic tendency at its utmost.  The\ntechnical difficulties have been overcome with astonishing\nsuccess, and though the combination of figures is impossible in\nlife, it is marvellously effective in art.  But the group\ndepends for its interest purely on the accidental horror of the\nsituation.  There is no hint in the sculpture of the motive of\nthe tragedy, no suggestion of ethical significance in the\nsuffering portrayed.  It does not connect itself with any\nprinciple of life.  In this way the work became a superb piece of\ndisplay, a TOUR DE FORCE of surprising composition but with\nlittle serious meaning.\n\nThe same judgment may be extended to the Farnese Bull, the work\nof Apollonius and Tauriscos, artists from Tralles who lived at\nRhodes.  This group represents the punishment of the cruel Dirke\nat the hands of the sons of Antiope.  The beautiful queen clasps\nthe knee of one of the sons praying for grace, while the other\nboy is about to throw over her the noose which is to bind her to\nthe bull.  Antiope stands in the background, a mere lay figure,\nand scattered about are numerous small symbolical figures.  Like\nthe Laocoon the Farnese Bull exhibits surprising mastery of\ntechnical obstacles, but, like the Laocoon, it falls short of\ntrue tragic grandeur.  In a greater degree than the Laocoon it\ntrenches upon the province of painting.  It is more complicated\nin its subject-matter; and the appearance in the group of many\nsmall subsidiary figures, which in a painting might have been\ngiven their proper value, being in the marble of the same relief\nand distinction as the major characters, give a somewhat absurd\neffect.  The little goddess who sits in the foreground, for\ninstance, is smaller than the dog.  Again, there is less of the\nmotive shown than in the Laocoon.  The group is seized at the\nmoment preceding the frightful catastrophe, but that moment is as\nfull of agony as the succeeding ones, and in addition there is\nthe feeling of suspense and oppression that comes from the\nunfinished tragedy.  Altogether, the group, in spite of the\nmarvellous technical skill shown in details, is a failure when\njudged on general lines.  Its interest lies in momentary and\napparently ummotived suffering, not in any truly serious\nconception of life.\n\nWith the conquest of Greece by Rome, the final stage of Greek art\nbegins.  But the vigor and originality had departed.  The\nsculptors aimed at and attained technical correctness, academic\nbeauty of form, sensuous feeling, perfection of details, but they\nlost all imaginative power.  A good example of the work of this\nperiod is found in the Apollo Belvidere now in the Vatican.  This\nfamous statue is an early Roman copy of a Greek original.  It\nrepresents the god advancing easily, full of vigor and grace.  It\nis marvellously correct in drawing, but quite without feeling of\nany kind.\n\nAnother work of this period is the sleeping Ariadne of the\nVatican.  This represents a woman reclining in a studied\nsentimental attitude, her arms thrown about her head, her body\nswathed in its protecting drapery.  To the same period also\nbelongs almost the last notable work of Greek art, the degenerate\nand sensuous conception of the Venus de Medici.  In this statue\nthe goddess stands as if rising from the sea, her attitude\nreserved, yet coquettish and self-conscious.  The form is\ntechnically perfect, graceful, and soft in its refinement, but\ncompared with the earlier Aphrodites it is an unworthy successor.\n\nStill another famous statue is the Borghese Gladiator, of Agasius\nof Ephesus, now in the Louvre.  The statue is merely a bit of\ndisplay, an effort to parade technical skill and anatomical\nknowledge.  The gladiator throws his weight strongly on his right\nleg, and holds one arm high above his head, giving to his whole\nbody an effect of straining.  The figure is strong and wiry.\nAgasius was distinctly an imitator, as were most of the artists\nof this age, among whom must be reckoned the skilful sculptor of\nthe crouching Venus, also in the Louvre.  The goddess is shown as\nbending down in graceful curves until her body is supported on\nthe right leg, which is bent double.  The form is strong and\nhealthy, graceful and easy in its somewhat constrained posture.\n\nDuring all of this final period Greek art was very largely\ninfluenced by the relations which existed between Greece and\nRome.  About the year 200 B.C. the Roman conquest of Greece led\nto an important traffic in works of art between Rome and the\nGreek cities.  For a time, indeed, statues formed a recognized\npart of the booty which graced every Roman triumph.  M. Fulvius\nNobilior carried away not less than five hundred and fifteen.\nAfter the period of conquest the importation of Greek statues\ncontinued at Rome, and in time Greek artists also began to remove\nthither, so that Rome became not only the centre for the\ncollection of Greek works of art, but the chief seat of their\nproduction.  At this time the Roman religious conceptions were\nidentified with those of Greece, and the Greek gods received the\nLatin names by which we now know them.  The influence of the\nGreeks upon Rome was very marked, but the reflex influence of the\nmaterial civilization of Italy upon Greek art was altogether bad,\nand thus the splendor of classical art went out in\ndilletantism and weakness.\n\nThe destruction of the Roman Empire by the barbarians makes a\nbreak in the artistic history of the world.  Not for many\ncenturies was there a vestige of artistic production.  Even when\nin Italy and France the monks began to make crude attempts to\nreach out for and represent in painting and sculpture imaginative\nconceptions of things beautiful, they took their material\nexclusively from Christian sources.  The tradition of classical\nstories had nearly vanished from the mind of Europe.  Not until\nthe Renaissance restored the knowledge of classical culture to\nEurope do we find artists making any use of the wealth of\nimaginative material stored up in the myths of Greece.  Then,\nindeed, by the discovery and circulation of the poets of\nmythology, the Greek stories and conceptions of characters,\ndivine and human, became known once more and were used freely,\nremaining until the present day one chief source of material and\nsubject-matter for the use of the painter and sculptor.","title":"Bulfinch's Mythology: The Age of Fable","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":145933}