{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_4928/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_4928","id":"gutenberg_4928","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/4928","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Charlemagne, Emperor, 742-814 -- Romances -- Adaptations","Folklore -- Europe","Mythology","Romances"],"text":"Robert Rowe, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.\n\n\n\nBULFINCH'S MYTHOLOGY\n\nTHE AGE OF FABLE\n\nTHE AGE OF CHIVALRY\n\nLEGENDS OF CHARLEMAGNE\n\nBY THOMAS BULFINCH\n\nCOMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME\n\n\n[Editor's Note: The etext contains all three sections.]\n\n\n\n\nPUBLISHERS' PREFACE\n\n\nNo new edition of Bulfinch's classic work can be considered\ncomplete without some notice of the American scholar to whose wide\nerudition and painstaking care it stands as a perpetual monument.\n\"The Age of Fable\" has come to be ranked with older books like\n\"Pilgrim's Progress,\" \"Gulliver's Travels,\" \"The Arabian Nights,\"\n\"Robinson Crusoe,\" and five or six other productions of world-wide\nrenown as a work with which every one must claim some acquaintance\nbefore his education can be called really complete. Many readers\nof the present edition will probably recall coming in contact with\nthe work as children, and, it may be added, will no doubt discover\nfrom a fresh perusal the source of numerous bits of knowledge that\nhave remained stored in their minds since those early years. Yet\nto the majority of this great circle of readers and students the\nname Bulfinch in itself has no significance.\n\nThomas Bulfinch was a native of Boston, Mass., where he was born\nin 1796. His boyhood was spent in that city, and he prepared for\ncollege in the Boston schools. He finished his scholastic training\nat Harvard College, and after taking his degree was for a period a\nteacher in his home city. For a long time later in life he was\nemployed as an accountant in the Boston Merchants' Bank. His\nleisure time he used for further pursuit of the classical studies\nwhich he had begun at Harvard, and his chief pleasure in life lay\nin writing out the results of his reading, in simple, condensed\nform for young or busy readers. The plan he followed in this work,\nto give it the greatest possible usefulness, is set forth in the\nAuthor's Preface.\n\n\"Age of Fable,\" First Edition, 1855; \"The Age of Chivalry,\" 1858;\n\"The Boy Inventor,\" 1860; \"Legends of Charlemagne, or Romance of\nthe Middle Ages,\" 1863; \"Poetry of the Age of Fable,\" 1863;\n\"Oregon and Eldorado, or Romance of the Rivers,\"1860.\n\nIn this complete edition of his mythological and legendary lore\n\"The Age of Fable,\" \"The Age of Chivalry,\" and \"Legends of\nCharlemagne\" are included. Scrupulous care has been taken to\nfollow the original text of Bulfinch, but attention should be\ncalled to some additional sections which have been inserted to add\nto the rounded completeness of the work, and which the publishers\nbelieve would meet with the sanction of the author himself, as in\nno way intruding upon his original plan but simply carrying it out\nin more complete detail. The section on Northern Mythology has\nbeen enlarged by a retelling of the epic of the \"Nibelungen Lied,\"\ntogether with a summary of Wagner's version of the legend in his\nseries of music-dramas. Under the head of \"Hero Myths of the\nBritish Race\" have been included outlines of the stories of\nBeowulf, Cuchulain, Hereward the Wake, and Robin Hood. Of the\nverse extracts which occur throughout the text, thirty or more\nhave been added from literature which has appeared since\nBulfinch's time, extracts that he would have been likely to quote\nhad he personally supervised the new edition.\n\nFinally, the index has been thoroughly overhauled and, indeed,\nremade. All the proper names in the work have been entered, with\nreferences to the pages where they occur, and a concise\nexplanation or definition of each has been given. Thus what was a\nmere list of names in the original has been enlarged into a small\nclassical and mythological dictionary, which it is hoped will\nprove valuable for reference purposes not necessarily connected\nwith \"The Age of Fable.\"\n\nAcknowledgments are due the writings of Dr. Oliver Huckel for\ninformation on the point of Wagner's rendering of the Nibelungen\nlegend, and M. I. Ebbutt's authoritative volume on \"Hero Myths and\nLegends of the British Race,\" from which much of the information\nconcerning the British heroes has been obtained\n\n\n\n\n\nAUTHOR'S PREFACE\n\n\nIf no other knowledge deserves to be called useful but that which\nhelps to enlarge our possessions or to raise our station in\nsociety, then Mythology has no claim to the appellation. But if\nthat which tends to make us happier and better can be called\nuseful, then we claim that epithet for our subject. For Mythology\nis the handmaid of literature; and literature is one of the best\nallies of virtue and promoters of happiness.\n\nWithout a knowledge of mythology much of the elegant literature of\nour own language cannot be understood and appreciated. When Byron\ncalls Rome \"the Niobe of nations,\" or says of Venice, \"She looks a\nSea-Cybele fresh from ocean,\" he calls up to the mind of one\nfamiliar with our subject, illustrations more vivid and striking\nthan the pencil could furnish, but which are lost to the reader\nignorant of mythology. Milton abounds in similar allusions. The\nshort poem \"Comus\" contains more than thirty such, and the ode \"On\nthe Morning of the Nativity\" half as many. Through \"Paradise Lost\"\nthey are scattered profusely. This is one reason why we often hear\npersons by no means illiterate say that they cannot enjoy Milton.\nBut were these persons to add to their more solid acquirements the\neasy learning of this little volume, much of the poetry of Milton\nwhich has appeared to them \"harsh and crabbed\" would be found\n\"musical as is Apollo's lute.\" Our citations, taken from more than\ntwenty-five poets, from Spenser to Longfellow, will show how\ngeneral has been the practice of borrowing illustrations from\nmythology.\n\nThe prose writers also avail themselves of the same source of\nelegant and suggestive illustration. One can hardly take up a\nnumber of the \"Edinburgh\" or \"Quarterly Review\" without meeting\nwith instances. In Macaulay's article on Milton there are twenty\nsuch.\n\nBut how is mythology to be taught to one who does not learn it\nthrough the medium of the languages of Greece and Rome? To devote\nstudy to a species of learning which relates wholly to false\nmarvels and obsolete faiths is not to be expected of the general\nreader in a practical age like this. The time even of the young is\nclaimed by so many sciences of facts and things that little can be\nspared for set treatises on a science of mere fancy.\n\nBut may not the requisite knowledge of the subject be acquired by\nreading the ancient poets in translations? We reply, the field is\ntoo extensive for a preparatory course; and these very\ntranslations require some previous knowledge of the subject to\nmake them intelligible. Let any one who doubts it read the first\npage of the \"Aeneid,\" and see what he can make of \"the hatred of\nJuno,\" the \"decree of the Parcae,\" the \"judgment of Paris,\" and\nthe \"honors of Ganymede,\" without this knowledge.\n\nShall we be told that answers to such queries may be found in\nnotes, or by a reference to the Classical Dictionary? We reply,\nthe interruption of one's reading by either process is so annoying\nthat most readers prefer to let an allusion pass unapprehended\nrather than submit to it. Moreover, such sources give us only the\ndry facts without any of the charm of the original narrative; and\nwhat is a poetical myth when stripped of its poetry? The story of\nCeyx and Halcyone, which fills a chapter in our book, occupies but\neight lines in the best (Smith's) Classical Dictionary; and so of\nothers.\n\nOur work is an attempt to solve this problem, by telling the\nstories of mythology in such a manner as to make them a source of\namusement. We have endeavored to tell them correctly, according to\nthe ancient authorities, so that when the reader finds them\nreferred to he may not be at a loss to recognize the reference.\nThus we hope to teach mythology not as a study, but as a\nrelaxation from study; to give our work the charm of a story-book,\nyet by means of it to impart a knowledge of an important branch of\neducation. The index at the end will adapt it to the purposes of\nreference, and make it a Classical Dictionary for the parlor.\n\nMost of the classical legends in \"Stories of Gods and Heroes\" are\nderived from Ovid and Virgil. They are not literally translated,\nfor, in the author's opinion, poetry translated into literal prose\nis very unattractive reading. Neither are they in verse, as well\nfor other reasons as from a conviction that to translate\nfaithfully under all the embarrassments of rhyme and measure is\nimpossible. The attempt has been made to tell the stories in\nprose, preserving so much of the poetry as resides in the thoughts\nand is separable from the language itself, and omitting those\namplifications which are not suited to the altered form.\n\nThe Northern mythological stories are copied with some abridgment\nfrom Mallet's \"Northern Antiquities.\" These chapters, with those\non Oriental and Egyptian mythology, seemed necessary to complete\nthe subject, though it is believed these topics have not usually\nbeen presented in the same volume with the classical fables.\n\nThe poetical citations so freely introduced are expected to answer\nseveral valuable purposes. They will tend to fix in memory the\nleading fact of each story, they will help to the attainment of a\ncorrect pronunciation of the proper names, and they will enrich\nthe memory with many gems of poetry, some of them such as are most\nfrequently quoted or alluded to in reading and conversation.\n\nHaving chosen mythology as connected with literature for our\nprovince, we have endeavored to omit nothing which the reader of\nelegant literature is likely to find occasion for. Such stories\nand parts of stories as are offensive to pure taste and good\nmorals are not given. But such stories are not often referred to,\nand if they occasionally should be, the English reader need feel\nno mortification in confessing his ignorance of them.\n\nOur work is not for the learned, nor for the theologian, nor for\nthe philosopher, but for the reader of English literature, of\neither sex, who wishes to comprehend the allusions so frequently\nmade by public speakers, lecturers, essayists, and poets, and\nthose which occur in polite conversation.\n\nIn the \"Stories of Gods and Heroes\" the compiler has endeavored to\nimpart the pleasures of classical learning to the English reader,\nby presenting the stories of Pagan mythology in a form adapted to\nmodern taste. In \"King Arthur and His Knights\" and \"The\nMabinogeon\" the attempt has been made to treat in the same way the\nstories of the second \"age of fable,\" the age which witnessed the\ndawn of the several states of Modern Europe.\n\nIt is believed that this presentation of a literature which held\nunrivalled sway over the imaginations of our ancestors, for many\ncenturies, will not be without benefit to the reader, in addition\nto the amusement it may afford. The tales, though not to be\ntrusted for their facts, are worthy of all credit as pictures of\nmanners; and it is beginning to be held that the manners and modes\nof thinking of an age are a more important part of its history\nthan the conflicts of its peoples, generally leading to no result.\nBesides this, the literature of romance is a treasure-house of\npoetical material, to which modern poets frequently resort. The\nItalian poets, Dante and Ariosto, the English, Spenser, Scott, and\nTennyson, and our own Longfellow and Lowell, are examples of this.\n\nThese legends are so connected with each other, so consistently\nadapted to a group of characters strongly individualized in\nArthur, Launcelot, and their compeers, and so lighted up by the\nfires of imagination and invention, that they seem as well adapted\nto the poet's purpose as the legends of the Greek and Roman\nmythology. And if every well-educated young person is expected to\nknow the story of the Golden Fleece, why is the quest of the\nSangreal less worthy of his acquaintance? Or if an allusion to the\nshield of Achilles ought not to pass unapprehended, why should one\nto Excalibar, the famous sword of Arthur?--\n\n    \"Of Arthur, who, to upper light restored,\n     With that terrific sword,\n     Which yet he brandishes for future war,\n     Shall lift his country's fame above the polar star.\"\n\n[Footnote: Wordsworth]\n\nIt is an additional recommendation of our subject, that it tends\nto cherish in our minds the idea of the source from which we\nsprung. We are entitled to our full share in the glories and\nrecollections of the land of our forefathers, down to the time of\ncolonization thence. The associations which spring from this\nsource must be fruitful of good influences; among which not the\nleast valuable is the increased enjoyment which such associations\nafford to the American traveller when he visits England, and sets\nhis foot upon any of her renowned localities.\n\nThe legends of Charlemagne and his peers are necessary to complete\nthe subject.\n\nIn an age when intellectual darkness enveloped Western Europe, a\nconstellation of brilliant writers arose in Italy. Of these, Pulci\n(born in 1432), Boiardo (1434), and Ariosto (1474) took for their\nsubjects the romantic fables which had for many ages been\ntransmitted in the lays of bards and the legends of monkish\nchroniclers. These fables they arranged in order, adorned with the\nembellishments of fancy, amplified from their own invention, and\nstamped with immortality. It may safely be asserted that as long\nas civilization shall endure these productions will retain their\nplace among the most cherished creations of human genius.\n\nIn \"Stories of Gods and Heroes,\" \"King Arthur and His Knights\" and\n\"The Mabinogeon\" the aim has been to supply to the modern reader\nsuch knowledge of the fables of classical and mediaeval literature\nas is needed to render intelligible the allusions which occur in\nreading and conversation. The \"Legends of Charlemagne\" is intended\nto carry out the same design. Like the earlier portions of the\nwork, it aspires to a higher character than that of a piece of\nmere amusement. It claims to be useful, in acquainting its readers\nwith the subjects of the productions of the great poets of Italy.\nSome knowledge of these is expected of every well-educated young\nperson.\n\nIn reading these romances, we cannot fail to observe how the\nprimitive inventions have been used, again and again, by\nsuccessive generations of fabulists. The Siren of Ulysses is the\nprototype of the Siren of Orlando, and the character of Circe\nreappears in Alcina. The fountains of Love and Hatred may be\ntraced to the story of Cupid and Psyche; and similar effects\nproduced by a magic draught appear in the tale of Tristram and\nIsoude, and, substituting a flower for the draught, in\nShakspeare's \"Midsummer Night's Dream.\" There are many other\ninstances of the same kind which the reader will recognize without\nour assistance.\n\nThe sources whence we derive these stories are, first, the Italian\npoets named above; next, the \"Romans de Chevalerie\" of the Comte\nde Tressan; lastly, certain German collections of popular tales.\nSome chapters have been borrowed from Leigh Hunt's Translations\nfrom the Italian Poets. It seemed unnecessary to do over again\nwhat he had already done so well; yet, on the other hand, those\nstories could not be omitted from the series without leaving it\nincomplete.\n\nTHOMAS BULFINCH.\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nSTORIES OF GODS AND HEROES\n\n      I. Introduction\n     II. Prometheus and Pandora\n    III. Apollo and Daphne--Pyramus and Thisbe--Cephalus and Procris\n     IV. Juno and her Rivals, Io and Callisto--Diana and Actaeon\n         --Latona and the Rustics\n      V. Phaeton\n     VI. Midas--Baucis and Philemon\n    VII. Proserpine--Glaucus and Scylla\n   VIII. Pygmalion--Dryope--Venus and Adonis--Apollo and Hyacinthus\n     IX. Ceyx and Halcyone\n      X. Vertumnus and Pomona--Iphis and Anaxarete\n     XI. Cupid and Psyche\n    XII. Cadmus--The Myrmidons\n   XIII. Nisus and Scylla--Echo and Narcissus--Clytie--Hero and Leander\n    XIV. Minerva and Arachne--Niobe\n     XV. The Graeae and Gorgons--Perseus and Medusa--Atlas--Andromeda\n    XVI. Monsters: Giants--Sphinx--Pegasus and Chimaera--Centaurs\n         --Griffin--Pygmies\n   XVII. The Golden Fleece--Medea\n  XVIII. Meleager and Atalanta\n    XIX. Hercules--Hebe and Ganymede\n     XX.  Theseus and Daedalus--Castor and Pollux--Festivals and Games\n    XXI. Bacchus and Ariadne\n   XXII. The Rural Deities--The Dryads and Erisichthon\n         --Rhoecus--Water Deities--Camenae--Winds\n  XXIII. Achelous and Hercules--Admetus and Alcestis--Antigone--Penelope\n   XXIV. Orpheus and Eurydice--Aristaeus--Amphion--Linus\n         --Thamyris--Marsyas--Melampus--Musaeus\n    XXV. Arion--Ibycus--Simonides--Sappho\n   XXVI. Endymion--Orion--Aurora and Tithonus--Acis and Galatea\n  XXVII. The Trojan War\n XXVIII. The Fall of Troy--Return of the Greeks--Orestes and Electra\n   XXIX. Adventures of Ulysses--The Lotus-eaters--The Cyclopes\n         --Circe--Sirens--Scylla and Charybdis--Calypso\n    XXX. The Phaeacians--Fate of the Suitors\n   XXXI. Adventures of Aeneas--The Harpies--Dido--Palinurus\n  XXXII. The Infernal Regions--The Sibyl\n XXXIII. Aeneas in Italy--Camilla--Evander--Nisus and Euryalus\n         --Mezentius--Turnus\n  XXXIV. Pythagoras--Egyptian Deities--Oracles\n   XXXV. Origin of Mythology--Statues of Gods and Goddesses\n         --Poets of Mythology\n  XXXVI. Monsters (modern)--The Phoenix--Basilisk--Unicorn--Salamander\n XXXVII. Eastern Mythology--Zoroaster--Hindu Mythology--Castes--Buddha\n         --The Grand Lama--Prester John\nXXXVIII. Northern Mythology--Valhalla--The Valkyrior\n  XXXIX. Thor's Visit to Jotunheim\n     XL. The Death of Baldur--The Elves--Runic Letters--Skalds--Iceland\n         --Teutonic Mythology--The Nibelungen Lied\n         --Wagner's Nibelungen Ring\n    XLI. The Druids--Iona\n\nKING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS\n\n\n    I. Introduction\n   II. The Mythical History of England\n  III. Merlin\n   IV. Arthur\n    V. Arthur (Continued)\n   VI. Sir Gawain\n  VII. Caradoc Briefbras; or, Caradoc with the Shrunken Arm\n VIII. Launcelot of the Lake\n   IX. The Adventure of the Cart\n    X. The Lady of Shalott\n   XI. Queen Guenever's Peril\n  XII. Tristram and Isoude\n XIII. Tristram and Isoude (Continued)\n  XIV. Sir Tristram's Battle with Sir Launcelot\n   XV. The Round Table\n  XVI. Sir Palamedes\n XVII. Sir Tristram\nXVIII. Perceval\n  XIX. The Sangreal, or Holy Graal\n   XX. The Sangreal (Continued)\n  XXI. The Sangreal (Continued)\n XXII. Sir Agrivain's Treason\nXXIII. Morte d'Arthur\n\n\nTHE MABINOGEON\n\n\n      Introductory Note\n   I. The Britons\n  II. The Lady of the Fountain\n III. The Lady of the Fountain (Continued)\n  IV. The Lady of the Fountain (Continued)\n   V. Geraint, the Son of Erbin\n  VI. Geraint, the Son of Erbin (Continued)\n VII. Geraint, the Son of Erbin (Continued)\nVIII. Pwyll, Prince of Dyved\n  IX. Branwen, the Daughter of Llyr\n   X. Manawyddan\n  XI. Kilwich and Olwen\n XII. Kilwich and Olwen (Continued)\nXIII. Taliesin\n\n\nHERO MYTHS OF THE BRITISH RACE\n\n\nBeowulf\nCuchulain, Champion of Ireland\nHereward the Wake\nRobin Hood\n\nLEGENDS OF CHARLEMAGNE\n\n\nIntroduction\nThe Peers, or Paladins\nThe Tournament\nThe Siege of Albracca\nAdventures of Rinaldo and Orlando\nThe Invasion of France\nThe Invasion of France (Continued)\n\nBradamante and Rogero\nAstolpho and the Enchantress\nThe Orc\nAstolpho's Adventures continued, and Isabella's begun.\nMedoro\nOrlando Mad\nZerbino and Isabella\nAstolpho in Abyssinia\nThe War in Africa\nRogero and Bradamante\nThe Battle of Roncesvalles\nRinaldo and Bayard\nDeath of Rinaldo\nHuon of Bordeaux\nHuon of Bordeaux (Continued)\nHuon of Bordeaux (Continued)\nOgier, the Dane\nOgier, the Dane (Continued)\nOgier, the Dane (Continued)\n\nGLOSSARY\n\n\n\n\n\nSTORIES OF GODS AND HEROES\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nThe religions of ancient Greece and Rome are extinct. The so-\ncalled divinities of Olympus have not a single worshipper among\nliving men. They belong now not to the department of theology, but\nto those of literature and taste. There they still hold their\nplace, and will continue to hold it, for they are too closely\nconnected with the finest productions of poetry and art, both\nancient and modern, to pass into oblivion.\n\nWe propose to tell the stories relating to them which have come\ndown to us from the ancients, and which are alluded to by modern\npoets, essayists, and orators. Our readers may thus at the same\ntime be entertained by the most charming fictions which fancy has\never created, and put in possession of information indispensable\nto every one who would read with intelligence the elegant\nliterature of his own day.\n\nIn order to understand these stories, it will be necessary to\nacquaint ourselves with the ideas of the structure of the universe\nwhich prevailed among the Greeks--the people from whom the\nRomans, and other nations through them, received their science and\nreligion.\n\nThe Greeks believed the earth to be flat and circular, their own\ncountry occupying the middle of it, the central point being either\nMount Olympus, the abode of the gods, or Delphi, so famous for its\noracle.\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, the only seas with\nwhich they were acquainted.\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 contrary\ndirection on the eastern side. It flowed in a steady, equable\ncurrent, unvexed by storm or tempest. The sea, and all the rivers\non 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, dwelling in everlasting bliss\nand spring beyond the lofty mountains whose caverns were supposed\nto send forth the piercing blasts of the north wind, which chilled\nthe people of Hellas (Greece). Their country was inaccessible by\nland or sea. They lived exempt from disease or old age, from toils\nand warfare. 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 share\ntheir 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 imagination\nmeantime peopled the western portion of this sea with giants,\nmonsters, and enchantresses; while they placed around the disk of\nthe earth, which they probably regarded as of no great width,\nnations enjoying the peculiar favor of the gods, and blessed with\nhappiness and longevity.\n\nThe Dawn, the Sun, and the Moon were supposed to rise out of the\nOcean, on the eastern side, and to drive through the air, giving\nlight to gods and men. The stars, also, except those forming the\nWain or Bear, and others near them, rose out of and sank into the\nstream of Ocean. There the sun-god embarked in a winged boat,\nwhich conveyed him round by the northern part of the earth, back\nto his place of rising in the east. Milton alludes to this in his\n\"Comus\":\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, as did also those deities whose usual abode was the\nearth, the waters, or the underworld. It was also in the great\nhall of the palace of the Olympian king that the gods feasted each\nday on ambrosia and nectar, their food and drink, the latter being\nhanded round by the lovely goddess Hebe. Here they conversed of\nthe affairs of heaven and earth; and as they quaffed their nectar,\nApollo, the god of music, delighted them with the tones of his\nlyre, to which the Muses sang in responsive strains. When the sun\nwas set, the gods retired to sleep 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 shmes with purest day.\n    There the inhabitants divine rejoice\n    Forever\"--Cowper.\n\nThe robes and other parts of the dress of the goddesses were woven\nby Minerva and the Graces and everything of a more solid nature\nwas formed of the various metals. Vulcan was architect, smith,\narmorer, chariot builder, and artist of all work in Olympus. He\nbuilt of brass the houses of the gods; he made for them the golden\nshoes with which they trod the air or the water, and moved from\nplace to place with the speed of the wind, or even of thought. He\nalso shod with brass the celestial steeds, which whirled the\nchariots of the gods through the air, or along the surface of the\nsea. He was able to bestow on his workmanship self-motion, so\nthat the tripods (chairs and tables) could move of themselves in\nand out of the celestial hall. He even endowed with intelligence\nthe golden handmaidens whom he made to wait on himself.\n\nJupiter, or Jove (Zeus [Footnote: The names included in\nparentheses are the Greek, the others being the Roman or Latin\nnames] ), though called the father of gods and men, had himself a\nbeginning. Saturn (Cronos) was his father, and Rhea (Ops) his\nmother. Saturn and Rhea were of the race of Titans, who were the\nchildren of Earth and Heaven, which sprang from Chaos, of which we\nshall give a further account in our next chapter.\n\nThere 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, producing\nlife and joy.\n\nSaturn and Rhea were not the only Titans. There were others, whose\nnames were Oceanus, Hyperion, Iapetus, and Ophion, males; and\nThemis, Mnemosyne, Eurynome, females. They are spoken of as the\nelder gods, whose dominion was afterwards transferred to others.\nSaturn yielded to Jupiter, Oceanus to Neptune, Hyperion to Apollo.\nHyperion was the father of the Sun, Moon, and Dawn. He is\ntherefore the original sun-god, and is painted with the splendor\nand beauty which were afterwards bestowed on Apollo.\n\n    \"Hyperion's curls, the front of Jove himself\"\n\n     --Shakspeare.\n\nOphion and Eurynome ruled over Olympus till they were dethroned by\nSaturn and Rhea. Milton alludes to them in \"Paradise Lost.\" He\nsays the heathens 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 children. [Footnote: This inconsistency\narises from considering the Saturn of the Romans the same with the\nGrecian deity Cronos (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 up\nespoused Metis (Prudence), who administered a draught to Saturn\nwhich caused him to disgorge his children. Jupiter, with his\nbrothers and sisters, now rebelled against their father Saturn and\nhis brothers the Titans; vanquished them, and imprisoned some of\nthem in Tartarus, inflicting other penalties on others. Atlas was\ncondemned to bear up the heavens on his shoulders.\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, and\nhe bore a shield called Aegis, made for him by Vulcan. The eagle\nwas his favorite bird, and bore his thunderbolts.\n\nJuno (Hera) was the wife of Jupiter, and queen of the gods. Iris,\nthe goddess of the rainbow, was her attendant and messenger. The\npeacock was her favorite bird.\n\nVulcan (Hephaestos), 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 accounts\nsay that Jupiter kicked him out for taking part with his mother in\na quarrel which occurred between them. Vulcan's lameness,\naccording to this account, was the consequence of his fall. He was\na whole day falling, and at last alighted in the island of Lemnos,\nwhich was thenceforth sacred to him. Milton alludes to this story\nin \"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.\n\nPhoebus Apollo, the god of archery, prophecy, and music, was the\nson of Jupiter and Latona, and brother of Diana (Artemis). He was\ngod of the sun, as Diana, his sister, 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 the\nIsle of Cyprus, where she was received and attired by the Seasons,\nand then led to the assembly of the gods. All were charmed with\nher beauty, and each one demanded her for his wife. Jupiter gave\nher to Vulcan, in gratitude for the service he had rendered in\nforging thunderbolts. So the most beautiful of the goddesses\nbecame the wife of the most ill-favored of gods. Venus possessed\nan embroidered girdle called Cestus, which had the power of\ninspiring love. Her favorite birds were swans and doves, and the\nplants sacred to her were the rose and the myrtle.\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 a\ndeity named Anteros, who was sometimes represented as the avenger\nof slighted love, and sometimes as the symbol of reciprocal\naffection. 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 rapidly\nin size and strength.\n\nMinerva (Pallas, Athene), the goddess of wisdom, was the offspring\nof Jupiter, without a mother. She sprang forth 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 over\ncommerce, 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 cap\nand winged shoes. He bore in his hand a rod entwined with two\nserpents, called the caduceus.\n\nMercury is said to have invented the lyre. He found, one day, a\ntortoise, of which he took the shell, made holes in the opposite\nedges of it, and drew cords of linen through them, and the\ninstrument was complete. The cords were nine, in honor of the nine\nMuses. Mercury gave the lyre to Apollo, and received from him in\nexchange the caduceus.\n\n[Footnote: From this origin of the instrument, the word \"shell\" is\noften used as synonymous with \"lyre,\" and figuratively for music\nand poetry. Thus Gray, in his ode on the \"Progress of Poesy,\"\nsays:\n\n    \"O Sovereign of the willing Soul,\n     Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs,\n     Enchanting shell! the sullen Cares\n     And frantic Passions hear thy soft control.\"]\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, but\nits 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 presidence over some\nparticular department of literature, art, or science. Calliope was\nthe muse of epic poetry, Clio of history, Euterpe of lyric poetry,\nMelpomene of tragedy, Terpsichore of choral dance and song, Erato\nof love poetry, Polyhymnia of sacred poetry, Urania of astronomy,\nThalia of comedy.\n\nThe Graces were goddesses presiding over the banquet, the dance,\nand all social enjoyments and elegant arts. They were three in\nnumber. Their names were Euphrosyne, Aglaia, and Thalia.\n\nSpenser describes 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 complements 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 by\ntheir secret stings the crimes of those who escaped or defied\npublic justice. The heads of the Furies were wreathed with\nserpents, and their whole appearance was terrific and appalling.\nTheir names were Alecto, Tisiphone, and Megaera. They were also\ncalled Eumenides.\n\nNemesis was also an avenging goddess. She represents the righteous\nanger of the gods, particularly towards the proud and insolent.\n\nPan was the god of flocks and shepherds. His favorite residence\nwas in Arcadia.\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. It was attempted to identify\nhim with the Grecian god Cronos, and fabled that after his\ndethronement by Jupiter he fled to Italy, where he reigned during\nwhat was called the Golden Age. In memory of his beneficent\ndominion, the feast of Saturnalia was held every year in the\nwinter 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 indulged\nwith great liberties. A feast was given them at which they sat at\ntable, while their masters served them, to show the natural\nequality of men, and that all things belonged equally to all, in\nthe reign of Saturn.\n\nFaunus, [Footnote: There was also a goddess called Fauna, or Bona\nDea.] the grandson of Saturn, was worshipped as the god of fields\nand shepherds, and also as a prophetic god. His name in the\nplural, Fauns, expressed a class of gamesome deities, like the\nSatyrs of the 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 of\nthe 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 the Latin name of Bacchus; and Mulciber of Vulcan.\n\nJanus was the porter of heaven. He opens the year, the first month\nbeing named after him. He is the guardian deity of gates, on which\naccount he is commonly represented with two heads, because every\ndoor looks two ways. His temples at Rome were numerous. In war\ntime the gates of the principal one were always open. In peace\nthey were closed; but they were shut only once between the reign\nof 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 and\nLarva more nearly correspond to our word Ghost.\n\nThe Romans believed that every man had his Genius, and every woman\nher Juno: that is, a spirit who had given them being, and was\nregarded as their protector through life. On their birthdays men\nmade offerings to their Genius, women to their Juno.\n\nA modern poet 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\n    --Macaulay, \"Prophecy of Capys.\"\n\nN.B.--It is to be observed that in proper names the final e and es\nare to be sounded. Thus Cybele and Penates are words of three\nsyllables. But Proserpine and Thebes are exceptions, and to be\npronounced as English words. In the Index at the close of the\nvolume we shall mark the accented syllable in all words which\nappear to require it.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nPROMETHEUS AND PANDORA\n\n\nThe creation of the world is a problem naturally fitted to excite\nthe liveliest interest of man, its inhabitant. The ancient pagans,\nnot having the information on the subject which we derive from the\npages of Scripture, had their own way of telling the story, which\nis as follows:\n\nBefore earth and sea and heaven were created, all things wore one\naspect, to which we give the name of Chaos--a confused and\nshapeless mass, nothing but dead weight, in which, however,\nslumbered the seeds of things. Earth, sea, and air were all mixed\nup together; so the earth was not solid, the sea was not fluid,\nand the air was not transparent. God and Nature at last\ninterposed, and put an end to this discord, separating earth from\nsea, and heaven from both. The fiery part, being the lightest,\nsprang up, and formed the skies; the air was next in weight and\nplace. The earth, being heavier, sank below; and the water took\nthe lowest place, and buoyed up the earth.\n\nHere some god--it is not known which--gave his good offices in\narranging and disposing the earth. He appointed rivers and bays\ntheir places, raised mountains, scooped out valleys, distributed\nwoods, fountains, fertile fields, and stony plains. The air being\ncleared, the stars began to appear, fishes took possession of the\nsea, birds of the air, and four-footed beasts of the land.\n\nBut a nobler animal was wanted, and Man was made. It is not known\nwhether the creator made him of divine materials, or whether in\nthe earth, so lately separated from heaven, there lurked still\nsome heavenly seeds. Prometheus took some of this earth, and\nkneading it up with water, made man in the image of the gods. He\ngave him an upright stature, so that while all other animals turn\ntheir faces downward, and look to the earth, he raises his to\nheaven, and gazes on the stars.\n\nPrometheus was one of the Titans, a gigantic race, who inhabited\nthe earth before the creation of man. To him and his brother\nEpimetheus was committed the office of making man, and providing\nhim and all other animals with the faculties necessary for their\npreservation. Epimetheus undertook to do this, and Prometheus was\nto overlook his work, when it was done. Epimetheus accordingly\nproceeded to bestow upon the different animals the various gifts\nof courage, strength, swiftness, sagacity; wings to one, claws to\nanother, a shelly covering to a third, etc. But when man came to\nbe provided for, who was to be superior to all other animals,\nEpimetheus had been so prodigal of his resources that he had\nnothing left to bestow upon him. In his perplexity he resorted to\nhis brother Prometheus, who, with the aid of Minerva, went up to\nheaven, and lighted his torch at the chariot of the sun, and\nbrought down fire to man. With this gift man was more than a match\nfor all other animals. It enabled him to make weapons wherewith to\nsubdue them; tools with which to cultivate the earth; to warm his\ndwelling, so as to be comparatively independent of climate; and\nfinally to introduce the arts and to coin money, the means of\ntrade and commerce. Woman was not yet made. The story (absurd\nenough!) is that Jupiter made her, and sent her to Prometheus and\nhis brother, to punish them for their presumption in stealing fire\nfrom heaven; and man, for accepting the gift. The first woman was\nnamed Pandora. She was made in heaven, every god contributing\nsomething to perfect her. Venus gave her beauty, Mercury\npersuasion, Apollo music, etc. Thus equipped, she was conveyed to\nearth, and presented to Epimetheus, who gladly accepted her,\nthough cautioned by his brother to beware of Jupiter and his\ngifts. Epimetheus had in his house a jar, in which were kept\ncertain noxious articles, for which, in fitting man for his new\nabode, he had had no occasion. Pandora was seized with an eager\ncuriosity to know what this jar contained; and one day she slipped\noff the cover and looked in. Forthwith there escaped a multitude\nof plagues for hapless man,--such as gout, rheumatism, and colic\nfor his body, and envy, spite, and revenge for his mind,--and\nscattered themselves far and wide. Pandora hastened to replace the\nlid! but, alas! the whole contents of the jar had escaped, one\nthing only excepted, which lay at the bottom, and that was HOPE.\nSo we see at this day, whatever evils are abroad, hope never\nentirely leaves us; and while we have THAT, no amount of other\nills can make us completely wretched.\n\nAnother story is that Pandora was sent in good faith, by Jupiter,\nto bless man; that she was furnished with a box, containing her\nmarriage presents, into which every god had put some blessing. She\nopened the box incautiously, and the blessings all escaped, HOPE\nonly excepted. This story seems more probable than the former; for\nhow could HOPE, so precious a jewel as it is, have been kept in a\njar full of all manner of evils, as in the former statement?\n\nThe world being thus furnished with inhabitants, the first age was\nan age of innocence and happiness, called the Golden Age. Truth\nand right prevailed, though not enforced by law, nor was there any\nmagistrate to threaten or punish. The forest had not yet been\nrobbed of its trees to furnish timbers for vessels, nor had men\nbuilt fortifications round their towns. There were no such things\nas swords, spears, or helmets. The earth brought forth all things\nnecessary for man, without his labor in ploughing or sowing.\nPerpetual spring reigned, flowers sprang up without seed, the\nrivers flowed with milk and wine, and yellow honey distilled from\nthe oaks.\n\nThen succeeded the Silver Age, inferior to the golden, but better\nthan that of brass. Jupiter shortened the spring, and divided the\nyear into seasons. Then, first, men had to endure the extremes of\nheat and cold, and houses became necessary. Caves were the first\ndwellings, and leafy coverts of the woods, and huts woven of\ntwigs. Crops would no longer grow without planting. The farmer was\nobliged to sow the seed and the toiling ox to draw the plough.\n\nNext came the Brazen Age, more savage of temper, and readier to\nthe strife of arms, yet not altogether wicked. The hardest and\nworst was the Iron Age. Crime burst in like a flood; modesty,\ntruth, and honor fled. In their places came fraud and cunning,\nviolence, and the wicked love of gain. Then seamen spread sails to\nthe wind, and the trees were torn from the mountains to serve for\nkeels to ships, and vex the face of ocean. The earth, which till\nnow had been cultivated in common, began to be divided off into\npossessions. Men were not satisfied with what the surface\nproduced, but must dig into its bowels, and draw forth from thence\nthe ores of metals. Mischievous IRON, and more mischievous GOLD,\nwere produced. 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 one\nanother. Sons wished their fathers dead, that they might come to\nthe inheritance; family love lay prostrate. The earth was wet with\nslaughter, and the gods abandoned it, one by one, till Astraea\nalone was left, and finally she also took her departure.\n\n[Footnote: 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 scales,\nin which she weighs the claims of opposing parties.\n\nIt was a favorite idea of the old poets that these goddesses would\none day return, and bring back the Golden Age. Even in a Christian\nhymn, 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.\"\n\nSee, also, Milton's \"Hymn on the Nativity,\" stanzas xiv. and xv.]\n\nJupiter, seeing this state of things, burned with anger. He\nsummoned the gods to council. They obeyed the call, and took the\nroad to the palace of heaven. The road, which any one may see in a\nclear night, stretches across the face of the sky, and is called\nthe Milky Way. Along the road stand the palaces of the illustrious\ngods; the common people of the skies live apart, on either side.\nJupiter addressed the assembly. He set forth the frightful\ncondition of things on the earth, and closed by announcing his\nintention to destroy the whole of its inhabitants, and provide a\nnew race, unlike the first, who would be more worthy of life, and\nmuch better worshippers of the gods. So saying he took a\nthunderbolt, and was about to launch it at the world, and destroy\nit by burning; but recollecting the danger that such a\nconflagration might set heaven itself on fire, he changed his\nplan, and resolved to drown it. The north wind, which scatters the\nclouds, was chained up; the south was sent out, and soon covered\nall the face of heaven with a cloak of pitchy darkness. The\nclouds, driven together, resound with a crash; torrents of rain\nfall; the crops are laid low; the year's labor of the husbandman\nperishes in an hour. Jupiter, not satisfied with his own waters,\ncalls on his brother Neptune to aid him with his. He lets loose\nthe rivers, and pours them over the land. At the same time, he\nheaves the land with an earthquake, and brings in the reflux of\nthe ocean over the shores. Flocks, herds, men, and houses are\nswept away, and temples, with their sacred enclosures, profaned.\nIf any edifice remained standing, it was overwhelmed, and its\nturrets lay hid beneath the waves. Now all was sea, sea without\nshore. Here and there an individual remained on a projecting\nhilltop, and a few, in boats, pulled the oar where they had lately\ndriven the plough. The fishes swim among the tree-tops; the anchor\nis let down into a garden. Where the graceful lambs played but\nnow, unwieldy sea calves gambol. The wolf swims among the sheep,\nthe yellow lions and tigers struggle in the water. The strength of\nthe wild boar serves him not, nor his swiftness the stag. The\nbirds fall with weary wing into the water, having found no land\nfor a resting-place. Those living beings whom the water spared\nfell a prey to hunger.\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 the\ngods. Jupiter, when he saw none left alive but this pair, and\nremembered their harmless lives and pious demeanor, ordered the\nnorth winds to drive away the clouds, and disclose the skies to\nearth, and earth to the skies. Neptune also directed Triton to\nblow on his shell, and sound a retreat to the waters. The waters\nobeyed, and the sea returned to its shores, and the rivers to\ntheir channels. Then Deucalion thus addressed Pyrrha: \"O wife,\nonly surviving woman, joined to me first by the ties of kindred\nand marriage, and now by a common danger, would that we possessed\nthe power of our ancestor Prometheus, and could renew the race as\nhe at first made it! But as we cannot, let us seek yonder temple,\nand inquire of the gods what remains for us to do.\" They entered\nthe temple, deformed as it was with slime, and approached the\naltar, where no fire burned. There they fell prostrate on the\nearth, and prayed the goddess to inform them how they might\nretrieve their miserable affairs. The oracle answered, \"Depart\nfrom the temple with head veiled and garments unbound, and cast\nbehind you the bones of your mother.\" They heard the words with\nastonishment. Pyrrha first broke silence: \"We cannot obey; we dare\nnot profane the remains of our parents.\" They sought the thickest\nshades of the wood, and revolved the oracle in their minds. At\nlength Deucalion spoke: \"Either my sagacity deceives me, or the\ncommand is one we may obey without impiety. The earth is the great\nparent of all; the stones are her bones; these we may cast behind\nus; and I think this is what the oracle means. At least, it will\ndo no harm to try.\" They veiled their faces, unbound their\ngarments, and picked up stones, and cast them behind them. The\nstones (wonderful to relate) began to grow soft, and assume shape.\nBy degrees, they put on a rude resemblance to the human form, like\na block half-finished in the hands of the sculptor. The moisture\nand slime that were about them became flesh; the stony part became\nbones; the veins remained veins, retaining their name, only\nchanging their use. Those thrown by the hand of the man became\nmen, and those by the woman became women. It was a hard race, and\nwell adapted to labor, as we find ourselves to be at this day,\ngiving plain indications 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 Japhet brought by Hermes, she insnared\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 has been a favorite subject with the poets. He is\nrepresented as the friend of mankind, who interposed in their\nbehalf when Jove was incensed against them, and who taught them\ncivilization and the arts. But as, in so doing, he transgressed\nthe will of Jupiter, he drew down on himself the anger of the\nruler of gods and men. Jupiter had him chained to a rock on Mount\nCaucasus, where a vulture preyed on his liver, which was renewed\nas fast as devoured. This state of torment might have been brought\nto an end at any time by Prometheus, if he had been willing to\nsubmit to his oppressor; for he possessed a secret which involved\nthe stability of Jove's throne, and if he would have revealed it,\nhe might have been at once taken into favor. But that he disdained\nto do. He has therefore become the symbol of magnanimous endurance\nof unmerited suffering, and strength of will resisting oppression.\n\nByron and Shelley have both treated this theme. The following are\nByron'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\nByron also employs the same allusion, in his\n\"Ode to Napoleon Bonaparte\":\n\n    \"Or, like the thief of fire from heaven,\n       Wilt thou withstand the shock?\n     And share with him--the unforgiven--\n       His vulture and his rock?\"\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nAPOLLO AND DAPHNE--PYRAMUS AND THISBE CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS\n\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, Python,\nan enormous serpent, crept forth, the terror of the people, and\nlurked in the caves of Mount Parnassus. Apollo slew him with his\narrows--weapons which he had not before used against any but\nfeeble animals, hares, wild goats, and such game. In commemoration\nof this illustrious conquest he instituted the Pythian games, in\nwhich the victor in feats of strength, swiftness of foot, or in\nthe chariot race was crowned with a wreath of beech leaves; for\nthe laurel was not yet adopted by Apollo as his own tree.\n\nThe famous statue of Apollo called the Belvedere represents the\ngod after this 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\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.\" Venus's boy heard these words, and rejoined, \"Your\narrows may strike all things else, Apollo, but mine shall strike\nyou.\" So saying, he took his stand on a rock of Parnassus, and\ndrew from his quiver two arrows of different workmanship, one to\nexcite love, the other to repel it. The former was of gold and\nsharp pointed, the latter blunt and tipped with lead. With the\nleaden shaft he struck the nymph Daphne, the daughter of the river\ngod Peneus, 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 sports\nand in the spoils of the chase. Many lovers sought her, but she\nspurned them all, ranging the woods, and taking no thought of\nCupid nor of Hymen. Her father often said to her, \"Daughter, you\nowe me a son-in-law; you owe me grandchildren.\" She, hating the\nthought of marriage as a crime, with her beautiful face tinged all\nover with blushes, threw arms around her father's neck, and said,\n\"Dearest father, grant me this favor, that I may always remain\nunmarried, like Diana.\" He consented, but at the same time said,\n\"Your own face will forbid it.\"\n\nApollo loved her, and longed to obtain her; and he who gives\noracles to all the world was not wise enough to look into his own\nfortunes. He saw her hair flung loose over her shoulders, and\nsaid, \"If so charming in disorder, what would it be if arranged?\"\nHe saw her eyes bright as stars; he saw her lips, and was not\nsatisfied with only seeing them. He admired her hands and arms,\nnaked to the shoulder, and whatever was hidden from view he\nimagined more beautiful still. He followed her; she fled, swifter\nthan the wind, and delayed not a moment at his entreaties. \"Stay,\"\nsaid he, \"daughter of Peneus; I am not a foe. Do not fly me as a\nlamb flies the wolf, or a dove the hawk. It is for love I pursue\nyou. You make me miserable, for fear you should fall and hurt\nyourself on these stones, and I should be the cause. Pray run\nslower, and I will follow slower. I am no clown, no rude peasant.\nJupiter is my father, and I am lord of Delphos and Tenedos, and\nknow all things, present and future. I am the god of song and the\nlyre. My arrows fly true to the mark; but, alas! an arrow more\nfatal than mine has pierced my heart! I am the god of medicine,\nand know the virtues of all healing plants. Alas! I suffer a\nmalady 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 garments,\nand her unbound hair streamed loose behind her. The god grew\nimpatient to find his wooings thrown away, and, sped by Cupid,\ngained upon her in the race. It was like a hound pursuing a hare,\nwith open jaws ready to seize, while the feebler animal darts\nforward, slipping from the very grasp. So flew the god and the\nvirgin--he on the wings of love, and she on those of fear. The\npursuer is the more rapid, however, and gains upon her, and his\npanting breath blows upon her hair. Her strength begins to fail,\nand, ready to sink, she calls upon her father, the river god:\n\"Help me, Peneus! open the earth to enclose me, or change my form,\nwhich has brought me into this danger!\" Scarcely had she spoken,\nwhen a stiffness seized all her limbs; her bosom began to be\nenclosed in a tender bark; her hair became leaves; her arms became\nbranches; her foot stuck fast in the ground, as a root; her face,\nbecame a tree-top, retaining nothing of its former self but its\nbeauty. Apollo stood amazed. He touched the stem, and felt the\nflesh tremble under the new bark. He embraced the branches, and\nlavished kisses on the wood. The branches shrank from his lips.\n\"Since you cannot be my wife,\" said he, \"you shall assuredly be my\ntree. I will wear you for my crown; I will decorate with you my\nharp and my quiver; and when the great Roman conquerors lead up\nthe triumphal pomp to the Capitol, you shall be woven into wreaths\nfor their brows. And, as eternal youth is mine, you also shall be\nalways green, and your leaf know no decay.\" The nymph, now changed\ninto a Laurel tree, bowed its head in grateful acknowledgment.\n\nThat Apollo should be the god both of music and poetry will not\nappear strange, but that medicine should also be assigned to his\nprovince, may. The poet Armstrong, himself a physician, thus\naccounts for it:\n\n    \"Music exalts each joy, allays each grief,\n     Expels diseases, 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\nPYRAMUS AND THISBE\n\nPyramus was the handsomest youth, and Thisbe the fairest maiden,\nin all Babylonia, where Semiramis reigned. Their parents occupied\nadjoining houses; and neighborhood brought the young people\ntogether, and acquaintance ripened into love. They would gladly\nhave married, but their parents forbade. One thing, however, they\ncould not forbid--that love should glow with equal ardor in the\nbosoms of both. They conversed by signs and glances, and the fire\nburned more intensely for being covered up. In the wall that\nparted the two houses there was a crack, caused by some fault in\nthe structure. No one had remarked it before, but the lovers\ndiscovered it. What will not love discover! It afforded a passage\nto the voice; and tender messages used to pass backward and\nforward through the gap. As they stood, Pyramus on this side,\nThisbe on that, their breaths would mingle. \"Cruel wall,\" they\nsaid, \"why do you keep two lovers apart? But we will not be\nungrateful. We owe you, we confess, the privilege of transmitting\nloving words to willing ears.\" Such words they uttered on\ndifferent sides of the wall; and when night came and they must say\nfarewell, they pressed their lips upon the wall, she on her side,\nhe on his, as they could come no nearer.\n\nNext 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 without\nthe city's bounds, called the Tomb of Ninus, and that the one who\ncame first should await the other at the foot of a certain tree.\nIt was a white mulberry tree, and stood near a cool spring. All\nwas agreed on, and they waited impatiently for the sun to go down\nbeneath the waters and night to rise up from them. Then cautiously\nThisbe stole forth, unobserved by the family, her head covered\nwith a veil, made her way to the monument and sat down under the\ntree. As she sat alone in the dim light of the evening she\ndescried a lioness, her jaws reeking with recent slaughter,\napproaching the fountain to slake her thirst. Thisbe fled at the\nsight, and sought refuge in the hollow of a rock. As she fled she\ndropped her veil. The lioness after drinking at the spring turned\nto retreat to the woods, and seeing the veil on the ground, tossed\nand rent it with her bloody mouth.\n\nPyramus, having been delayed, now approached the place of meeting.\nHe saw in the sand the footsteps of the lion, and the color fled\nfrom his cheeks at the sight. Presently he found the veil all rent\nand bloody. \"O hapless girl,\" said he, \"I have been the cause of\nthy death! Thou, more worthy of life than I, hast fallen the first\nvictim. I will follow. I am the guilty cause, in tempting thee\nforth to a place of such peril, and not being myself on the spot\nto guard thee. Come forth, ye lions, from the rocks, and tear this\nguilty body with your teeth.\" He took up the veil, carried it with\nhim to the appointed tree, and covered it with kisses and with\ntears. \"MY blood also shall stain your texture,\" said he, and\ndrawing his sword plunged it into his heart. The blood spurted\nfrom the wound, and tinged the white mulberries of the tree all\nred; and sinking into the earth reached the roots, so that the red\ncolor mounted through the trunk to the fruit.\n\nBy this time Thisbe, still trembling with fear, yet wishing not to\ndisappoint her lover, stepped cautiously forth, looking anxiously\nfor the youth, eager to tell him the danger she had escaped. When\nshe came to the spot and saw the changed color of the mulberries\nshe doubted whether it was the same place. While she hesitated she\nsaw the form of one struggling in the agonies of death. She\nstarted back, a shudder ran through her frame as a ripple on the\nface of the still water when a sudden breeze sweeps over it. But\nas soon as she recognized her lover, she screamed and beat her\nbreast, embracing the lifeless body, pouring tears into its\nwounds, and imprinting kisses on the cold lips. \"O Pyramus,\" she\ncried, \"what has done this? Answer me, Pyramus; it is your own\nThisbe that speaks. Hear me, dearest, and lift that drooping\nhead!\" At the name of Thisbe Pyramus opened his eyes, then closed\nthem again. She saw her veil stained with blood and the scabbard\nempty of its sword. \"Thy own hand has slain thee, and for my\nsake,\" she said. \"I too can be brave for once, and my love is as\nstrong as thine. I will follow thee in death, for I have been the\ncause; and death which alone could part us shall not prevent my\njoining thee. And ye, unhappy parents of us both, deny us not our\nunited request. As love and death have joined us, let one tomb\ncontain us. And thou, tree, retain the marks of slaughter. Let thy\nberries still serve for memorials of our blood.\" So saying she\nplunged the sword into her breast. Her parents ratified her wish,\nthe gods also ratified it. The two bodies were buried in one\nsepulchre, and the tree ever after brought forth purple berries,\nas 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 metamorphosis\nof the mulberries. The poet is describing the Island 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 lovers' 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 Shakspeare's play of the \"Midsummer\nNight's Dream,\" where it is most amusingly burlesqued.\n\nCEPHALUS AND PROCRIS\n\nCephalus was a beautiful youth and fond of manly sports. He would\nrise before the dawn to pursue the chase. Aurora saw him when she\nfirst looked forth, fell in love with him, and stole him away. But\nCephalus was just married to a charming wife whom he devotedly\nloved. Her name was Procris. She was a favorite of Diana, the\ngoddess of hunting, who had given her a dog which could outrun\nevery rival, and a javelin which would never fail of its mark; and\nProcris gave these presents to her husband. Cephalus was so happy\nin his wife that he resisted all the entreaties of Aurora, and she\nfinally dismissed him in displeasure, saying, \"Go, ungrateful\nmortal, keep your wife, whom, if I am not much mistaken, you will\none day be very sorry you 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 borrow\nhis famous dog, whose name was Lelaps. No sooner was the dog let\nloose than he darted off, quicker than their eye could follow him.\nIf they had not seen his footprints in the sand they would have\nthought he flew. Cephalus and others stood on a hill and saw the\nrace. The fox tried every art; he ran in a circle and turned on\nhis track, the dog close upon him, with open jaws, snapping at his\nheels, but biting only the air. Cephalus was about to use his\njavelin, when suddenly he saw both dog and game stop instantly.\nThe heavenly powers who had given both were not willing that\neither should conquer. In the very attitude of life and action\nthey were turned into stone. So lifelike and natural did they\nlook, you would have thought, as you looked at them, that one was\ngoing 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, for\nhis javelin was a sure weapon in all cases. Fatigued with hunting,\nwhen the sun got high he would seek a shady nook where a cool\nstream 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 allay\nthe heat that burns me.\" Some one passing by one day heard him\ntalking in this way to the air, and, foolishly believing that he\nwas talking to some maiden, went and told the secret to Procris,\nCephalus's wife. Love is credulous. Procris, at the sudden shock,\nfainted away. Presently recovering, she said, \"It cannot be true;\nI will not believe it unless I myself am a witness to it.\" So she\nwaited, with anxious heart, till the next morning, when Cephalus\nwent to hunt as usual. Then she stole out after him, and concealed\nherself in the place where the informer directed her. Cephalus\ncame as he was wont when tired with sport, and stretched himself\non the green bank, saying, \"Come, sweet breeze, come and fan me;\nyou know how I love you! you make the groves and my solitary\nrambles delightful.\" He was running on in this way when he heard,\nor thought he heard, a sound as of a sob in the bushes. Supposing\nit some wild animal, he threw his javelin at the spot. A cry from\nhis beloved Procris told him that the weapon had too surely met\nits mark. He rushed to the place, and found her bleeding, and with\nsinking strength endeavoring to draw forth from the wound the\njavelin, her own gift. Cephalus raised her from the earth, strove\nto stanch the blood, and called her to revive and not to leave him\nmiserable, to reproach himself with her death. She opened her\nfeeble eyes, and forced herself to utter these few words: \"I\nimplore you, if you have ever loved me, if I have ever deserved\nkindness at your hands, my husband, grant me this last request; do\nnot marry that odious Breeze!\" This disclosed the whole mystery:\nbut alas! what advantage to disclose it now! She died; but her\nface wore a calm expression, and she looked pityingly and\nforgivingly on her husband when he made her understand the truth.\n\nMoore, in his \"Legendary Ballads,\" has one on Cephalus and\nProcris, beginning 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\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nJUNO AND HER RIVALS, IO AND CALLISTO--DIANA AND ACTAEON--LATONA\nAND THE RUSTICS\n\n\nJuno one day perceived it suddenly grow dark, and immediately\nsuspected that her husband had raised a cloud to hide some of his\ndoings that would not bear the light. She brushed away the cloud,\nand saw her husband on the banks of a glassy river, with a\nbeautiful heifer standing near him. Juno suspected the heifer's\nform concealed some fair nymph of mortal mould--as was, indeed the\ncase; for it was Io, the daughter of the river god Inachus, whom\nJupiter had been flirting with, and, when he became aware of the\napproach of his wife, had changed 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 stop\nquestions, replied that it was a fresh creation from the earth.\nJuno asked to have it as a gift. What could Jupiter do? He was\nloath to give his mistress to his wife; yet how refuse so trifling\na present as a simple heifer? He could not, without exciting\nsuspicion; so he consented. The goddess was not yet relieved of\nher suspicions; so she delivered the heifer to Argus, to be\nstrictly 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 night\ntied her up with a vile rope round her neck. She would have\nstretched out her arms to implore freedom of Argus, but she had no\narms to stretch out, and her voice was a bellow that frightened\neven herself. She saw her father and her sisters, went near them,\nand suffered them to pat her back, and heard them admire her\nbeauty. Her father reached her a tuft of grass, and she licked the\noutstretched hand. She longed to make herself known to him, and\nwould have uttered her wish; but, alas! words were wanting. At\nlength she bethought herself of writing, and inscribed her name--\nit was a short one--with her hoof on the sand. Inachus recognized\nit, and discovering that his daughter, whom he had long sought in\nvain, was hidden under this disguise, mourned over her, and,\nembracing her white neck, exclaimed, \"Alas! my daughter, it would\nhave been a less grief to have lost you altogether!\" While he thus\nlamented, Argus, observing, came and drove her away, and took his\nseat on a high bank, from whence he could see all around in every\ndirection.\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. These\nwere what are called the Syrinx or Pandean pipes. Argus listened\nwith delight, for he had never seen the instrument before. \"Young\nman,\" said he, \"come and take a seat by me on this stone. There is\nno better place for your flocks to graze in than hereabouts, and\nhere is a pleasant shade such as shepherds love.\" Mercury sat\ndown, talked, and told stories till it grew late, and played upon\nhis pipes his most soothing strains, hoping to lull the watchful\neyes to sleep, but all in vain; for Argus still contrived to keep\nsome of his eyes open though he shut the rest.\n\nAmong other stories, Mercury told him how the instrument on which\nhe played was invented. \"There was a certain nymph, whose name was\nSyrinx, 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, without\nstopping to hear his compliments, and he pursued till she came to\nthe bank of the river, where he overtook her, and she had only\ntime to call for help on her friends the water nymphs. They heard\nand consented. Pan threw his arms around what he supposed to be\nthe form of the nymph, and found he embraced only a tuft of reeds!\nAs he breathed a sigh, the air sounded through the reeds, and\nproduced a plaintive melody. The god, charmed with the novelty and\nwith the sweetness of the music, said, 'Thus, then, at least, you\nshall be mine.' And he took some of the reeds, and placing them\ntogether, of unequal lengths, side by side, made an instrument\nwhich he called Syrinx, in honor of the nymph.\" Before Mercury had\nfinished his story he saw Argus's eyes all asleep. As his head\nnodded forward on his breast, Mercury with one stroke cut his neck\nthrough, and tumbled his head down the rocks. O hapless Argus! the\nlight of your hundred eyes is quenched at once! Juno took them and\nput them as ornaments on the tail of her peacock, where they\nremain to this day.\n\nBut the vengeance of Juno was not yet satiated. She sent a gadfly\nto torment Io, who fled over the whole world from its pursuit. She\nswam through the Ionian sea, which derived its name from her, then\nroamed over the plains of Illyria, ascended Mount Haemus, and\ncrossed the Thracian strait, thence named the Bosphorus (cow-\nford), rambled on through Scythia, and the country of the\nCimmerians, and arrived at last on the banks of the Nile. At\nlength Jupiter interceded for her, and upon his promising not to\npay her any more attentions Juno consented to restore her to her\nform. It was curious to see her gradually recover her former self.\nThe coarse hairs fell from her body, her horns shrank up, her eyes\ngrew narrower, her mouth shorter; hands and fingers came instead\nof hoofs to her forefeet; in fine there was nothing left of the\nheifer, except her beauty. At first she was afraid to speak, for\nfear she should low, but gradually she recovered her confidence\nand was restored to her father and sisters.\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 bough 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\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 she,\n\"that beauty with which you have captivated my husband.\" Down fell\nCallisto on her hands and knees; she tried to stretch out her arms\nin supplication--they were already beginning to be covered with\nblack hair. Her hands grew rounded, became armed with crooked\nclaws, and served for feet; her mouth, which Jove used to praise\nfor its beauty, became a horrid pair of jaws; her voice, which if\nunchanged would have moved the heart to pity, became a growl, more\nfit to inspire terror. Yet her former disposition remained, and\nwith continual groaning, she bemoaned her fate, and stood upright\nas well as she could, lifting up her paws to beg for mercy, and\nfelt that Jove was unkind, though she could not tell him so. Ah,\nhow often, afraid to stay in the woods all night alone, she\nwandered about the neighborhood of her former haunts; how often,\nfrightened by the dogs, did she, so lately a huntress, fly in\nterror from the hunters! Often she fled from the wild beasts,\nforgetting that she was now a wild beast herself; and, bear as she\nwas, 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 stopped\nand felt inclined to embrace him. As she was about to approach,\nhe, alarmed, raised his hunting spear, and was on the point of\ntransfixing her, when Jupiter, beholding, arrested the crime, and\nsnatching away both of them, placed them in the heavens as the\nGreat 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 answer\nto their inquiries thus told the cause of her coming: \"Do you ask\nwhy I, the queen of the gods, have left the heavenly plains and\nsought your depths? Learn that I am supplanted in heaven--my place\nis given to another. You will hardly believe me; but look when\nnight darkens the world, and you shall see the two of whom I have\nso much reason to complain exalted to the heavens, in that part\nwhere the circle is the smallest, in the neighborhood of the pole.\nWhy should any one hereafter tremble at the thought of offending\nJuno, when such rewards are the consequence of my displeasure? See\nwhat I have been able to effect! I forbade her to wear the human\nform--she is placed among the stars! So do my punishments result--\nsuch is the extent of my power! Better that she should have\nresumed her former shape, as I permitted Io to do. Perhaps he\nmeans to marry her, and put me away! But you, my foster-parents,\nif you feel for me, and see with displeasure this unworthy\ntreatment of me, show it, I beseech you, by forbidding this guilty\ncouple from coming into your waters.\" The powers of the ocean\nassented, and consequently the two constellations of the Great and\nLittle Bear move round and round in heaven, but never sink, as the\nother stars 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,\" etc.\n\nAnd Prometheus, in J. R. Lowell's poem, says:\n\n    \"One after one the stars have risen and set,\n     Sparkling upon the hoar frost of my chain;\n     The Bear that prowled all night about the fold\n     Of the North-star, hath shrunk into his den,\n     Scared by the blithesome 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\nThe reference here is both to the Pole-star as the guide of\nmariners, and to the magnetic attraction of the North He calls it\nalso the \"Star of Arcady,\" because Callisto's boy was named Arcas,\nand they lived in Arcadia. In \"Comus,\" the brother, benighted in\nthe woods, says:\n\n    \"... Some gentle taper!\n     Though a rush candle, from the wicker hole\n     Of some clay habitation, visit us\n     With thy long levelled rule of streaming light,\n     And thou shalt be our star of Arcady,\n     Or Tyrian Cynosure.\"\n\nDIANA AND ACTAEON\n\nThus in two instances we have seen Juno's severity to her rivals;\nnow let us learn how a virgin goddess punished an invader of her\nprivacy.\n\nIt was midday, and the sun stood equally distant from either goal,\nwhen young Actaeon, son of King Cadmus, thus addressed the youths\nwho 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 to-morrow we\ncan renew our labors. Now, while Phoebus parches the earth, let us\nput by our implements and indulge ourselves with rest.\"\n\nThere was a valley thick enclosed with cypresses and pines, sacred\nto the huntress queen, Diana. In the extremity of the valley was a\ncave, not adorned with art, but nature had counterfeited art in\nits construction, for she had turned the arch of its roof with\nstones as delicately fitted as if by the hand of man. A fountain\nburst out from one side, whose open basin was bounded by a grassy\nrim. Here the goddess of the woods used to come when weary with\nhunting and lave her virgin limbs in the 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, the\nmost skilful of them, arranged her hair, and Nephele, Hyale, and\nthe rest drew water in capacious urns. While the goddess was thus\nemployed in the labors of the toilet, behold Actaeon, having\nquitted his companions, and rambling without any especial object,\ncame to the place, led thither by his destiny. As he presented\nhimself at the entrance of the cave, the nymphs, seeing a man,\nscreamed and rushed towards the goddess to hide her with their\nbodies. But she was taller than the rest and overtopped them all\nby a head. Such a color as tinges the clouds at sunset or at dawn\ncame over the countenance of Diana thus taken by surprise.\nSurrounded as she was by her nymphs, she yet turned half away, and\nsought with a sudden impulse for her arrows. As they were not at\nhand, she dashed the water into the face of the intruder, adding\nthese words: \"Now go and tell, if you can, that you have seen\nDiana unapparelled.\" Immediately a pair of branching stag's horns\ngrew out of his head, his neck gained in length, his ears grew\nsharp-pointed, his hands became feet, his arms long legs, his body\nwas covered with a hairy spotted hide. Fear took the place of his\nformer boldness, and the hero fled. He could not but admire his\nown speed; but when he saw his horns in the water, \"Ah, wretched\nme!\" he would have said, but no sound followed the effort. He\ngroaned, and tears flowed down the face which had taken the place\nof his own. Yet his consciousness remained. What shall he do?--go\nhome to seek the palace, or lie hid in the woods? The latter he\nwas afraid, the former he was ashamed, to do. While he hesitated\nthe dogs saw him. First Melampus, a Spartan dog, gave the signal\nwith his bark, then Pamphagus, Dorceus, Lelaps, Theron, Nape,\nTigris, and all the rest, rushed after him swifter than the wind.\nOver rocks and cliffs, through mountain gorges that seemed\nimpracticable, he fled and they followed. Where he had often\nchased the stag and cheered on his pack, his pack now chased him,\ncheered on by his huntsmen. He longed to cry out, \"I am Actaeon;\nrecognize your master!\" but the words came not at his will. The\nair resounded 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 his\nflesh. He groaned,--not in a human voice, yet certainly not in a\nstag's,--and falling on his knees, raised his eyes, and would have\nraised his arms in supplication, if he had had them. His friends\nand fellow-huntsmen cheered on the dogs, and looked everywhere for\nActaeon, calling on him to join the sport. At the sound of his\nname he turned his head, and heard them regret that he should be\naway. He earnestly wished he was. He would have been well pleased\nto see the exploits of his dogs, but to feel them was too much.\nThey were all around him, rending and tearing; and it was not till\nthey had torn his life out that the anger of Diana was satisfied.\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\n    Stanza 31.\n\nThe allusion is probably to Shelley himself.\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 with\nher virgin dignity. As, usual, the recent event brought older ones\nto mind, and one of the bystanders told this story: \"Some\ncountrymen of Lycia once insulted the goddess Latona, but not with\nimpunity. When I was young, my father, who had grown too old for\nactive labors, sent me to Lycia to drive thence some choice oxen,\nand there I saw the very pond and marsh where the wonder happened.\nNear by stood an ancient altar, black with the smoke of sacrifice\nand almost buried among the reeds. I inquired whose altar it might\nbe, whether of Faunus or the Naiads, or some god of the\nneighboring mountain, and one of the country people replied, 'No\nmountain or river god possesses this altar, but she whom royal\nJuno in her jealousy drove from land to land, denying her any spot\nof earth whereon to rear her twins. Bearing in her arms the infant\ndeities, Latona reached this land, weary with her burden and\nparched with thirst. By chance she espied on the bottom of the\nvalley this pond of clear water, where the country people were at\nwork gathering willows and osiers. The goddess approached, and\nkneeling on the bank would have slaked her thirst in the cool\nstream, but the rustics forbade her. 'Why do you refuse me water?'\nsaid she; 'water is free to all. Nature allows no one to claim as\nproperty the sunshine, the air, or the water. I come to take my\nshare of the common blessing. Yet I ask it of you as a favor. I\nhave no intention of washing my limbs in it, weary though they be,\nbut only to quench my thirst. My mouth is so dry that I can hardly\nspeak. A draught Of water would be nectar to me; it would revive\nme, and I would own myself indebted to you for life itself. Let\nthese infants move your pity, who stretch out their little arms as\nif to plead for me;' and the children, as it happened, were\nstretching 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 up\nthe mud with their feet, so as to make the water unfit to drink.\nLatona was so angry that she ceased to mind her thirst. She no\nlonger supplicated the clowns, but lifting her hands to heaven\nexclaimed, 'May they never quit that pool, but pass their lives\nthere!' And it came to pass accordingly. They now live in the\nwater, sometimes totally submerged, then raising their heads above\nthe surface or swimming upon it. Sometimes they come out upon the\nbank, but soon leap back again into the water. They still use\ntheir base voices in railing, and though they have the water all\nto themselves, are not ashamed to croak in the midst of it. Their\nvoices are harsh, their throats bloated, their mouths have become\nstretched by constant railing, their necks have shrunk up and\ndisappeared, and their heads are joined to their bodies. Their\nbacks are green, their disproportioned bellies white, and in short\nthey are now frogs, and dwell in the slimy pool.\"\n\nThis story explains the allusion in one of Milton's sonnets, \"On\nthe detraction which followed upon his writing certain treatises.\"\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 islands\nof the Aegean to afford her a place of rest, but all feared too\nmuch the potent queen of heaven to assist her rival. Delos alone\nconsented to become the birthplace of the future deities. Delos\nwas then a floating island; but when Latona arrived there, Jupiter\nfastened it with adamantine chains to the bottom of the sea, that\nit might be a secure resting-place for his beloved. Byron alludes\nto 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\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nPHAETON\n\n\nPhaeton was the son of Apollo and the nymph Clymene. One day a\nschoolfellow laughed at the idea of his being the son of the god,\nand Phaeton went in rage and shame and reported it to his mother.\n\"If,\" said he, \"I am indeed of heavenly birth, give me, mother,\nsome proof of it, and establish my claim to the honor.\" Clymene\nstretched forth her hands towards the skies, and said, \"I call to\nwitness the Sun which looks down upon us, that I have told you the\ntruth. If I speak falsely, let this be the last time I behold his\nlight. But it needs not much labor to go and inquire for yourself;\nthe land 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\nhis parent 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; [Footnote: See Proverbial Expressions.] for upon the\nwalls Vulcan had represented earth, sea, and skies, with their\ninhabitants. In the sea were the nymphs, some sporting in the\nwaves, some riding on the backs of fishes, while others sat upon\nthe rocks and dried their sea-green hair. Their faces were not all\nalike, nor yet unlike,--but such as sisters' ought to be.\n[Footnote: See Proverbial Expressions.] The earth had its towns\nand forests and rivers and rustic divinities. Over all was carved\nthe likeness of the glorious heaven; and on the silver doors the\ntwelve signs of 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 of\nripened grain, and Autumn, with his feet stained with grape-juice,\nand icy Winter, with his hair stiffened with hoar frost.\nSurrounded by these attendants, the Sun, with the eye that sees\neverything, beheld the youth dazzled with the novelty and splendor\nof the scene, and inquired the purpose of his errand. The youth\nreplied, \"O light of the boundless world, Phoebus, my father,--if\nyou permit me to use that name,--give me some proof, I beseech\nyou, by which I may be known as yours.\" He ceased; and his father,\nlaying aside the beams that shone all around his head, bade him\napproach, and embracing him, said, \"My son, you deserve not to be\ndisowned, and I confirm what your mother has told you. To put an\nend to your doubts, ask what you will, the gift shall be yours. I\ncall to witness that dreadful lake, which I never saw, but which\nwe gods swear by in our most solemn engagements.\" Phaeton\nimmediately asked to be permitted for one day to drive the chariot\nof the sun. The father repented of his promise; thrice and four\ntimes he shook his radiant head in warning. \"I have spoken\nrashly,\" said he; \"this only request I would fain deny. I beg you\nto withdraw it. It is not a safe boon, nor one, my Phaeton, suited\nto your youth and strength. Your lot is mortal, and you ask what\nis beyond a mortal's power. In your ignorance you aspire to do\nthat which not even the gods themselves may do. None but myself\nmay drive the flaming car of day. Not even Jupiter, whose terrible\nright arm hurls the thunderbolts. The first part of the way is\nsteep, and such as the horses when fresh in the morning can hardly\nclimb; the middle is high up in the heavens, whence I myself can\nscarcely, without alarm, look down and behold the earth and sea\nstretched beneath me. The last part of the road descends rapidly,\nand requires most careful driving. Tethys, who is waiting to\nreceive me, often trembles for me lest I should fall headlong. Add\nto all this, the heaven is all the time turning round and carrying\nthe stars with it. I have to be perpetually on my guard lest that\nmovement, which sweeps everything else along, should hurry me also\naway. Suppose I should lend you the chariot, what would you do?\nCould you keep your course while the sphere was revolving under\nyou? Perhaps you think that there are forests and cities, the\nabodes of gods, and palaces and temples on the way. On the\ncontrary, the road is through the midst of frightful monsters. You\npass by the horns of the Bull, in front of the Archer, and near\nthe Lion's jaws, and where the Scorpion stretches its arms in one\ndirection and the Crab in another. Nor will you find it easy to\nguide those horses, with their breasts full of fire that they\nbreathe forth from their mouths and nostrils. I can scarcely\ngovern them myself, when they are unruly and resist the reins.\nBeware, my son, lest I be the donor of a fatal gift; recall your\nrequest while yet you may. Do you ask me for a proof that you are\nsprung from my blood? I give you a proof in my fears for you. Look\nat my face--I would that you could look into my breast, you would\nthere see all a father's anxiety. Finally,\" he continued, \"look\nround the world and choose whatever you will of what earth or sea\ncontains most precious--ask it and fear no refusal. This only I\npray you not to urge. It is not honor, but destruction you seek.\nWhy do you hang round my neck and still entreat me? You shall have\nit if you persist,--the oath is sworn and must be kept,--but I beg\nyou to choose more 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 pole\nand wheels of gold, the spokes of silver. Along the seat were rows\nof chrysolites and diamonds which reflected all around the\nbrightness 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 Day-star, which last of all retired\nalso. The father, when he saw the earth beginning to glow, and the\nMoon 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; the\nlabor is to hold them in. You are not to take the straight road\ndirectly between the five circles, but turn off to the left. Keep\nwithin the limit of the middle zone, and avoid the northern and\nthe southern alike. You will see the marks of the wheels, and they\nwill serve to guide you. And, that the skies and the earth may\neach receive their due share of heat, go not too high, or you will\nburn the heavenly dwellings, nor too low, or you will set the\nearth on fire; the middle course is safest and best. [Footnote:\nSee Proverbial Expressions] And now I leave you to your chance,\nwhich I hope will plan better for you than you have done for\nyourself. Night is passing out of the western gates and we can\ndelay no longer. Take the reins; but if at last your heart fails\nyou, and you will benefit by my advice, stay where you are in\nsafety, and suffer me to light and warm the earth.\" The agile\nyouth sprang into the chariot, stood erect, and grasped the reins\nwith delight, pouring out thanks to his reluctant parent.\n\nMeanwhile the horses fill the air with their snortings and fiery\nbreath, and stamp the ground impatient. Now the bars are let down,\nand the boundless plain of the universe lies open before them.\nThey dart forward and cleave the opposing clouds, and outrun the\nmorning breezes which started from the same eastern goal. The\nsteeds soon perceived that the load they drew was lighter than\nusual; and as a ship without ballast is tossed hither and thither\non the sea, so the chariot, without its accustomed weight, was\ndashed about as if empty. They rush headlong and leave the\ntravelled road. He is alarmed, and knows not how to guide them;\nnor, if he knew, has he the power. Then, for the first time, the\nGreat and Little Bear were scorched with heat, and would fain, if\nit were possible, have plunged into the water; and the Serpent\nwhich lies coiled up round the north pole, torpid and harmless,\ngrew warm, and with warmth felt its rage revive. Bootes, they say,\nfled away, though encumbered with his plough, and all unused to\nrapid 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 horses,\nnever learned his parentage, never prevailed in his request. He is\nborne along like a vessel that flies before a tempest, when the\npilot can do no more and betakes himself to his prayers. What\nshall he do? Much of the heavenly road is left behind, but more\nremains before. He turns his eyes from one direction to the other;\nnow to the goal whence he began his course, now to the realms of\nsunset which he is not destined to reach. He loses his self-\ncommand, and knows not what to do,--whether to draw tight the\nreins or throw them loose; he forgets the names of the horses. He\nsees with terror the monstrous forms scattered over the surface of\nheaven. Here the Scorpion extended his two great arms, with his\ntail and crooked claws stretching over two signs of the zodiac.\nWhen the boy beheld him, reeking with poison and menacing with his\nfangs, his courage failed, and the reins fell from his hands. The\nhorses, when they felt them loose on their backs, dashed headlong,\nand unrestrained went off into unknown regions of the sky, in\namong the stars, hurling the chariot over pathless places, now up\nin high heaven, now down almost to the earth. The moon saw with\nastonishment her brother's chariot running beneath her own. The\nclouds begin to smoke, and the mountain tops take fire; the fields\nare parched with heat, the plants wither, the trees with their\nleafy branches burn, the harvest is ablaze! But these are small\nthings. Great cities perished, with their walls and towers; whole\nnations with their people were consumed to ashes! The forest-clad\nmountains burned, 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 part\nwith 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 and\nfull of burning ashes, and the smoke was of a pitchy darkness. He\ndashed forward he knew not whither. Then, it is believed, the\npeople of Aethiopia became black by the blood being forced so\nsuddenly to the surface, and the Libyan desert was dried up to the\ncondition in which it remains to this day. The Nymphs of the\nfountains, with dishevelled hair, mourned their waters, nor were\nthe rivers safe beneath their banks: Tanais smoked, and Caicus,\nXanthus, and Meander; Babylonian Euphrates and Ganges, Tagus with\ngolden sands, and Cayster where the swans resort. Nile fled away\nand hid his head in the desert, and there it still remains\nconcealed. Where he used to discharge his waters through seven\nmouths into the sea, there seven dry channels alone remained. The\nearth cracked open, and through the chinks light broke into\nTartarus, and frightened the king of shadows and his queen. The\nsea shrank up. Where before was water, it became a dry plain; and\nthe mountains that lie beneath the waves lifted up their heads and\nbecame islands. The fishes sought the lowest depths, and the\ndolphins no longer ventured as usual to sport on the surface. Even\nNereus, and his wife Doris, with the Nereids, their daughters,\nsought the deepest caves for refuge. Thrice Neptune essayed to\nraise his head above the surface, and thrice was driven back by\nthe heat. Earth, surrounded as she was by waters, yet with head\nand shoulders bare, screening her face with her hand, looked up to\nheaven, and with a husky voice called on Jupiter:\n\n\"O ruler of the gods, if I have deserved this treatment, and it is\nyour will that I perish with fire, why withhold your thunderbolts?\nLet me at least fall by your hand. Is this the reward of my\nfertility, of my obedient service? Is it for this that I have\nsupplied herbage for cattle, and fruits for men, and frankincense\nfor your altars? But if I am unworthy of regard, what has my\nbrother Ocean done to deserve such a fate? If neither of us can\nexcite your pity, think, I pray you, of your own heaven, and\nbehold how both the poles are smoking which sustain your palace,\nwhich must fall if they be destroyed. Atlas faints, and scarce\nholds up his burden. If sea, earth, and heaven perish, we fall\ninto ancient Chaos. Save what yet remains to us from the devouring\nflame. O, take thought for our deliverance 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 speedy remedy were applied, mounted the lofty\ntower from whence he diffuses clouds over the earth, and hurls the\nforked lightnings. But at that time not a cloud was to be found to\ninterpose for a screen to earth, nor was a shower remaining\nunexhausted. He thundered, and brandishing a lightning bolt in his\nright hand launched it against the charioteer, and struck him at\nthe same moment from his seat and from existence! Phaeton, with\nhis hair on fire, fell headlong, like a shooting star which marks\nthe heavens with its brightness as it falls, and Eridanus, the\ngreat river, received him and cooled his burning frame. The\nItalian Naiads reared a tomb for him, and inscribed these words\nupon 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\n[Footnote: See Proverbial Expressions]\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\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 Landor, descriptive of the\nSea-shell, there is an allusion to the Sun's palace and chariot.\nThe water-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 on the wave.\n     Shake one and it awakens; then apply\n     Its polished lip to your attentive ear,\n     And it remembers its august abodes,\n     And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there.\"\n\n    --Gebir, Book I.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nMIDAS--BAUCIS AND PHILEMON\n\n\nBacchus, on a certain occasion, found his old schoolmaster and\nfoster-father, Silenus, missing. The old man had been drinking,\nand in that state wandered away, and was found by some peasants,\nwho carried him to their king, Midas. Midas recognized him, and\ntreated him hospitably, entertaining him for ten days and nights\nwith an unceasing round of jollity. On the eleventh day he brought\nSilenus back, and restored him in safety to his pupil. Whereupon\nBacchus offered Midas his choice of a reward, whatever he might\nwish. He asked that whatever he might touch should be changed into\nGOLD. Bacchus consented, though sorry that he had not made a\nbetter choice. Midas went his way, rejoicing in his new-acquired\npower, which he hastened to put to the test. He could scarce\nbelieve his eyes when he found a twig of an oak, which he plucked\nfrom the branch, become gold in his hand. He took up a stone; it\nchanged to gold. He touched a sod; it did the same. He took an\napple from the tree; you would have thought he had robbed the\ngarden of the Hesperides. His joy knew no bounds, and as soon as\nhe got home, he ordered the servants to set a splendid repast on\nthe table. Then he found to his dismay that whether he touched\nbread, it hardened in his hand; or put a morsel to his lips, it\ndefied his teeth. He took a glass of wine, but it flowed down his\nthroat like 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. Bacchus,\nmerciful deity, heard and consented. \"Go,\" said he, \"to the River\nPactolus, trace the stream to its fountain-head, there plunge your\nhead and body in, and wash away your fault and its punishment.\" He\ndid so, and scarce had he touched the waters before the gold-\ncreating power passed into them, and the river-sands became\nchanged 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. On\na certain occasion Pan had the temerity to compare his music with\nthat of Apollo, and to challenge the god of the lyre to a trial of\nskill. The challenge was accepted, and Tmolus, the mountain god,\nwas chosen umpire. The senior took his seat, and cleared away the\ntrees from his ears to listen. At a given signal Pan blew on his\npipes, and with his rustic melody gave great satisfaction to\nhimself and his faithful follower Midas, who happened to be\npresent. Then Tmolus turned his head toward the Sun-god, and all\nhis trees turned with him. Apollo rose, his brow wreathed with\nParnassian laurel, while his robe of Tyrian purple swept the\nground. In his left hand he held the lyre, and with his right hand\nstruck the strings. Ravished with the harmony, Tmolus at once\nawarded the victory to the god of the lyre, and all but Midas\nacquiesced in the judgment. He dissented, and questioned the\njustice of the award. Apollo would not suffer such a depraved pair\nof ears any longer to wear the human form, but caused them to\nincrease in length, grow hairy, within and without, and movable on\ntheir roots; in short, to be on the perfect pattern of those of an\nass.\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 head-dress. But his hair-dresser of course knew the secret. He\nwas charged not to mention it, and threatened with dire punishment\nif he presumed to disobey. But he found it too much for his\ndiscretion to keep such a secret; so he went out into the meadow,\ndug a hole in the ground, and stooping down, whispered the story,\nand covered it up. Before long a thick bed of reeds sprang up in\nthe meadow, and as soon as it had gained its growth, began\nwhispering the story, and has continued to do so, from that day to\nthis, every time a breeze 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's\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 wagon\ninto 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 the\ncelebrated Gordian knot, which, in after times it was said,\nwhoever should untie should become lord of all Asia. Many tried to\nuntie it, but none succeeded, till Alexander the Great, in his\ncareer of conquest, came to Phrygia. He tried his skill with as\nill success as others, till growing impatient he drew his sword\nand cut the knot. When he afterwards succeeded in subjecting all\nAsia to his sway, people began to think that he had complied with\nthe terms of the oracle according to its true meaning.\n\nBAUCIS AND PHILEMON\n\nOn a certain hill in Phrygia stands a linden tree and an oak,\nenclosed by a low wall. Not far from the spot is a marsh, formerly\ngood habitable land, but now indented with pools, the resort of\nfen-birds and cormorants. Once on a time Jupiter, in, human shape,\nvisited this country, and with him his son Mercury (he of the\ncaduceus), without his wings. They presented themselves, as weary\ntravellers, at many a door, seeking rest and shelter, but found\nall closed, for it was late, and the inhospitable inhabitants\nwould not rouse themselves to open for their reception. At last a\nhumble mansion received them, a small thatched cottage, where\nBaucis, a pious old dame, and her husband Philemon, united when\nyoung, had grown old together. Not ashamed of their poverty, they\nmade it endurable by moderate desires and kind dispositions. One\nneed not look there for master or for servant; they two were the\nwhole household, master and servant alike. When the two heavenly\nguests crossed the humble threshold, and bowed their heads to pass\nunder the low door, the old man placed a seat, on which Baucis,\nbustling and attentive, spread a cloth, and begged them to sit\ndown. Then she raked out the coals from the ashes, and kindled up\na fire, fed it with leaves and dry bark, and with her scanty\nbreath blew it into a flame. She brought out of a corner split\nsticks and dry branches, broke them up, and placed them under the\nsmall kettle. Her husband collected some pot-herbs in the garden,\nand she shred them from the stalks, and prepared them for the pot.\nHe reached down with a forked stick a flitch of bacon hanging in\nthe chimney, cut a small piece, and put it in the pot to boil with\nthe herbs, setting away the rest for another time. A beechen bowl\nwas filled with warm water, that their guests might wash. While\nall 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\nancient and coarse enough, was spread over that. The old lady,\nwith her apron on, with trembling hand set the table. One leg was\nshorter than the rest, but a piece of slate put under restored the\nlevel. When fixed, she rubbed the table down with some sweet-\nsmelling herbs. Upon it she set some of chaste Minerva's olives,\nsome cornel berries preserved in vinegar, and added radishes and\ncheese, with eggs lightly cooked in the ashes. All were served in\nearthen dishes, and an earthenware pitcher, with wooden cups,\nstood beside them. When all was ready, the stew, smoking hot, was\nset on the table. Some wine, not of the oldest, was added; and for\ndessert, apples and wild honey; and over and above all, friendly\nfaces, 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 in\nthe pitcher, of its own accord. Struck with terror, Baucis and\nPhilemon recognized their heavenly guests, fell on their knees,\nand 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, with the aid of feet and wings, for the old folks, eluded\ntheir pursuit, and at last took shelter between the gods\nthemselves. They forbade it to be slain; and spoke in these words:\n\"We are gods. This inhospitable village shall pay the penalty of\nits impiety; you alone shall go free from the chastisement. Quit\nyour house, and come with us to the top of yonder hill.\" They\nhastened to obey, and, staff in hand, labored up the steep ascent.\nThey had reached to within an arrow's flight of the top, when\nturning their eyes below, they beheld all the country sunk in a\nlake, only their own house left standing. While they gazed with\nwonder at the sight, and lamented the fate of their neighbors,\nthat old house of theirs was changed into a temple. Columns took\nthe place of the corner posts, the thatch grew yellow and appeared\na gilded roof, the floors became marble, the doors were enriched\nwith carving and ornaments of gold. Then spoke Jupiter in\nbenignant accents: \"Excellent old man, and woman worthy of such a\nhusband, speak, tell us your wishes; what favor have you to ask of\nus?\" Philemon took counsel with Baucis a few moments; then\ndeclared to the gods their united wish. \"We ask to be priests and\nguardians of this your temple; and since here we have passed our\nlives in love and concord, we wish that one and the same hour may\ntake us both from life, that I may not live to see her grave, nor\nbe laid in my own by her.\" Their prayer was granted. They were the\nkeepers of the temple as long as they lived. When grown very old,\nas they stood one day before the steps of the sacred edifice, and\nwere telling the story of the place, Baucis saw Philemon begin to\nput forth leaves, and old Philemon saw Baucis changing in like\nmanner. And now a leafy crown had grown over their heads, while\nexchanging parting words, as long as they could speak. \"Farewell,\ndear spouse,\" they said, together, and at the same moment the bark\nclosed over their mouths. The Tyanean shepherd still shows the two\ntrees, standing side 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\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nPROSERPINE--GLAUCUS AND SCYLLA\n\n\nWhen Jupiter and his brothers had defeated the Titans and banished\nthem to Tartarus, a new enemy rose up against the gods. They were\nthe giants Typhon, Briareus, Enceladus, and others. Some of them\nhad a hundred arms, others breathed out fire. They were finally\nsubdued and buried alive under Mount Aetna, where they still\nsometimes struggle to get loose, and shake the whole island with\nearthquakes. Their breath comes up through the mountain, and is\nwhat men call the eruption of the volcano.\n\nThe fall of these monsters shook the earth, so that Pluto was\nalarmed, and feared that his kingdom would be laid open to the\nlight of day. Under this apprehension, he mounted his chariot,\ndrawn by black horses, and took a circuit of inspection to satisfy\nhimself of the extent of the damage. While he was thus engaged,\nVenus, who was sitting on Mount Eryx playing with her boy Cupid,\nespied him, and said, \"My son, take your darts with which you\nconquer all, even Jove himself, and send one into the breast of\nyonder dark monarch, who rules the realm of Tartarus. Why should\nhe alone escape? Seize the opportunity to extend your empire and\nmine. Do you not see that even in heaven some despise our power?\nMinerva the wise, and Diana the huntress, defy us; and there is\nthat daughter of Ceres, who threatens to follow their example. Now\ndo you, if you have any regard for your own interest or mine, join\nthese two in one.\" The boy unbound his quiver, and selected his\nsharpest and truest arrow; then straining the bow against his\nknee, he attached the string, and, having made ready, shot the\narrow with its 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, loved her, and carried her off. She screamed for\nhelp to her mother and companions; and when in her fright she\ndropped the corners of her apron and let the flowers fall,\nchildlike she felt the loss of them as an addition to her grief.\nThe ravisher urged on his steeds, calling them each by name, and\nthrowing loose over their heads and necks his iron-colored reins.\nWhen he reached the River Cyane, and it opposed his passage, he\nstruck the river-bank with his trident, and the earth opened and\ngave 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, she\nsat down upon a stone, and continued sitting nine days and nights,\nin the open air, under the sunlight and moonlight and falling\nshowers. It was where now stands the city of Eleusis, then the\nhome of an old man named Celeus. He was out in the field,\ngathering acorns and blackberries, and sticks for his fire. His\nlittle girl was driving home their two goats, and as she passed\nthe goddess, who appeared in the guise of an old woman, she said\nto her, \"Mother,\"--and the name was sweet to the ears of Ceres,--\n\"why do you sit here alone upon the rocks?\" The old man also\nstopped, though his load was heavy, and begged her to come into\nhis cottage, such as it was. She declined, and he urged her. \"Go\nin peace,\" she replied, \"and be happy in your daughter; I have\nlost mine.\" As she spoke, tears--or something like tears, for the\ngods never weep--fell down her cheeks upon her bosom. The\ncompassionate old man and his child wept with her. Then said he,\n\"Come with us, and despise not our humble roof; so may your\ndaughter be restored to you in safety.\" \"Lead on,\" said she, \"I\ncannot resist that appeal!\" So she rose from the stone and went\nwith them. As they walked he told her that his only son, a little\nboy, lay very sick, feverish, and sleepless. She stooped and\ngathered some poppies. As they entered the cottage, they found all\nin great distress, for the boy seemed past hope of recovery.\nMetanira, his mother, received her kindly, and the goddess stooped\nand kissed the lips of the sick child. Instantly the paleness left\nhis face, and healthy vigor returned to his body. The whole family\nwere delighted--that is, the father, mother, and little girl, for\nthey were all; they had no servants. They spread the table, and\nput upon it curds and cream, apples, and honey in the comb. While\nthey ate, Ceres mingled poppy juice in the milk of the boy. When\nnight came and all was still, she arose, and taking the sleeping\nboy, moulded his limbs with her hands, and uttered over him three\ntimes a solemn charm, then went and laid him in the ashes. His\nmother, who had been watching what her guest was doing, sprang\nforward with a cry and snatched the child from the fire. Then\nCeres assumed her own form, and a divine splendor shone all\naround. While they were overcome with astonishment, she said,\n\"Mother, you have been cruel in your fondness to your son. I would\nhave made him immortal, but you have frustrated my attempt.\nNevertheless, he shall be great and useful. He shall teach men the\nuse of the plough, and the rewards which labor can win from the\ncultivated soil.\" So saying, she wrapped a cloud about her, and\nmounting 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 the\nRiver Cyane, where Pluto made himself a passage with his prize to\nhis own dominions. The river nymph would have told the goddess all\nshe had witnessed, but dared not, for fear of Pluto; so she only\nventured to take up the girdle which Proserpine had dropped in her\nflight, and waft it to the feet of the mother. Ceres, seeing this,\nwas no longer in doubt of her loss, but she did not yet know the\ncause, and laid the blame on the innocent land. \"Ungrateful soil,\"\nsaid she, \"which I have endowed with fertility and clothed with\nherbage and nourishing grain, no more shall you enjoy my favors.\"\nThen the cattle died, the plough broke in the furrow, the seed\nfailed to come up; there was too much sun, there was too much\nrain; the birds stole the seeds--thistles and brambles were the\nonly growth. Seeing this, the fountain Arethusa interceded for the\nland. \"Goddess,\" said she, \"blame not the land; it opened\nunwillingly to yield a passage to your daughter. I can tell you of\nher fate, for I have seen her. This is not my native country; I\ncame hither from Elis. I was a woodland nymph, and delighted in\nthe chase. They praised my beauty, but I cared nothing for it, and\nrather boasted of my hunting exploits. One day I was returning\nfrom the wood, heated with exercise, when I came to a stream\nsilently flowing, so clear that you might count the pebbles on the\nbottom. The willows shaded it, and the grassy bank sloped down to\nthe water's edge. I approached, I touched the water with my foot.\nI stepped in knee-deep, and not content with that, I laid my\ngarments on the willows and went in. While I sported in the water,\nI heard an indistinct murmur coming up as out of the depths of the\nstream: and made haste to escape to the nearest bank. The voice\nsaid, 'Why do you fly, Arethusa? I am Alpheus, the god of this\nstream.' I ran, he pursued; he was not more swift than I, but he\nwas stronger, and gained upon me, as my strength failed. At last,\nexhausted, I cried for help to Diana. 'Help me, goddess! help your\nvotary!' The goddess heard, and wrapped me suddenly in a thick\ncloud. The river god looked now this way and now that, and twice\ncame close to me, but could not find me. 'Arethusa! Arethusa!' he\ncried. Oh, how I trembled,--like a lamb that hears the wolf\ngrowling outside the fold. A cold sweat came over me, my hair\nflowed down in streams; where my foot stood there was a pool. In\nshort, in less time than it takes to tell it I became a fountain.\nBut in this form Alpheus knew me and attempted to mingle his\nstream with mine. Diana cleft the ground, and I, endeavoring to\nescape him, plunged into the cavern, and through the bowels of the\nearth came out here in Sicily. While I passed through the lower\nparts of the earth, I saw your Proserpine. She was sad, but no\nlonger showing alarm in her countenance. Her look was such as\nbecame a queen--the queen of Erebus; the powerful bride of the\nmonarch of the realms of 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, to\ndemand Proserpine of Pluto. The wily monarch consented; but, alas!\nthe maiden had taken a pomegranate which Pluto offered her, and\nhad sucked the sweet pulp from a few of the seeds. This was enough\nto prevent her complete release; but a compromise was made, by\nwhich she was to pass half the time with her mother, and the rest\nwith 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 his\nfamily, and her promise to his infant son Triptolemus. When the\nboy grew up, she taught him the use of the plough, and how to sow\nthe seed. She took him in her chariot, drawn by winged dragons,\nthrough all the countries of the earth, imparting to mankind\nvaluable grains, and the knowledge of agriculture. After his\nreturn, Triptolemus built 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 of this story of Ceres and Proserpine\nbeing an allegory. Proserpine signifies the seed-corn which when\ncast into the ground lies there concealed--that is, she is carried\noff by the god of the underworld. It reappears--that is,\nProserpine is restored to her mother. Spring leads her back to the\nlight 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\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 frighted Proserpine let fall\n       Her flowers at the sight of Dis.\"\n\nThe River Alpheus does in fact disappear underground, in part of\nits course, finding its way through subterranean channels till it\nagain 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 thus alludes to the same\nstory, and to the practice of throwing garlands or other light\nobjects on his stream to be carried downward by it, and afterwards\nreproduced at its emerging:\n\n    \"O 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 ef 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\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 emptied\nhis net, and proceeded to sort the fishes on the grass. The place\nwhere he stood was a beautiful island in the river, a solitary\nspot, uninhabited, and not used for pasturage of cattle, nor ever\nvisited by any but himself. On a sudden, the fishes, which had\nbeen laid on the grass, began to revive and move their fins as if\nthey were in the water; and while he looked on astonished, they\none and all moved off to the water, plunged in, and swam away. He\ndid not know what to make of this, whether some god had done it or\nsome secret power in the herbage. \"What herb has such a power?\" he\nexclaimed; and gathering some of it, he tasted it. Scarce had the\njuices of the plant reached his palate when he found himself\nagitated with a longing desire for the water. He could no longer\nrestrain himself, but bidding farewell to earth, he plunged into\nthe stream. The gods of the water received him graciously, and\nadmitted him to the honor of their society. They obtained the\nconsent of Oceanus and Tethys, the sovereigns of the sea, that all\nthat was mortal in him should be washed away. A hundred rivers\npoured their waters over him. Then he lost all sense of his former\nnature and all consciousness. When he recovered, he found himself\nchanged in form and mind. His hair was sea-green, and trailed\nbehind him on the water; his shoulders grew broad, and what had\nbeen thighs and legs assumed the form of a fish's tail. The sea-\ngods complimented him on the change of his appearance, and he\nfancied himself rather a good-looking personage.\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 the sight of him, and ran\ntill she had gained a cliff overlooking the sea. Here she stopped\nand turned round to see whether it was a god or a sea animal, and\nobserved with wonder his shape and color. Glaucus partly emerging\nfrom the water, and supporting himself against a rock, said,\n\"Maiden, I am no monster, nor a sea animal, but a god; and neither\nProteus nor Triton ranks higher than I. Once I was a mortal, and\nfollowed the sea for a living; but now I belong wholly to it.\"\nThen he told the story of his metamorphosis, and how he had been\npromoted to his present dignity, and added, \"But what avails all\nthis if it fails to move your heart?\" He was going on in this\nstrain, 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 same\nwhere afterwards Ulysses landed, as we shall see in one of our\nlater stories. After mutual salutations, he said, \"Goddess, I\nentreat your pity; you alone can relieve the pain I suffer. The\npower of herbs I know as well as any one, for it is to them I owe\nmy change 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 the\nattractions 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 to\nyou that even I, goddess though I be, and learned in the virtues\nof plants and spells, should not know how to refuse you. If she\nscorns you scorn her; meet one who is ready to meet you half way,\nand thus make a due return to both at once.\" To these words\nGlaucus replied, \"Sooner shall trees grow at the bottom of the\nocean, and sea-weed on the top of the mountains, than I will cease\nto 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 mighty\npower. Scylla came as usual and plunged into the water up to her\nwaist. What was her horror to perceive a brood of serpents and\nbarking monsters surrounding her! At first she could not imagine\nthey were a part of herself, and tried to run from them, and to\ndrive them away; but as she ran she carried them with her, and\nwhen she tried to touch her limbs, she found her hands touch only\nthe yawning jaws of monsters. Scylla remained rooted to the spot.\nHer temper grew as ugly as her form, and she took pleasure in\ndevouring hapless mariners who came within her grasp. Thus she\ndestroyed six of the companions of Ulysses, and tried to wreck the\nships of Aeneas, till at last she was turned into a rock, and as\nsuch still continues to be a terror to mariners.\n\nKeats, in his \"Endymion,\" has given a new version of the ending of\n\"Glaucus and Scylla.\" Glaucus consents to Circe's blandishments,\ntill he by chance is witness to her transactions with her beasts.\nDisgusted with her treachery and cruelty, he tries to escape from\nher, but is taken and brought back, when with reproaches she\nbanishes him, sentencing him to pass a thousand years in\ndecrepitude and pain. He returns to the sea, and there finds the\nbody of Scylla, whom the goddess has not transformed but drowned.\nGlaucus learns that his destiny is that, if he passes his thousand\nyears in collecting all the bodies of drowned lovers, a youth\nbeloved of the gods will appear and help him. Endymion fulfils\nthis prophecy, and aids in restoring Glaucus to youth, and Scylla\nand all the drowned lovers to life.\n\nThe following is Glaucus's account of his feelings after his \"sea-\nchange\":\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-intent,\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 will.\n     'Twas freedom! and at once I visited\n     The ceaseless wonders of this ocean-bed,\" etc.\n\n    --Keats.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nPYGMALION--DRYOPE-VENUS AND ADONIS--APOLLO AND HYACINTHUS\n\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 sculptor,\nand had made with wonderful skill a statue of ivory, so beautiful\nthat no living woman came anywhere near it. It was indeed the\nperfect semblance of a maiden that seemed to be alive, and only\nprevented from moving by modesty. His art was so perfect that it\nconcealed itself and its product looked like the workmanship of\nnature. Pygmalion admired his own work, and at last fell in love\nwith the counterfeit creation. Oftentimes he laid his hand upon it\nas if to assure himself whether it were living or not, and could\nnot even then believe that it was only ivory. He caressed it, and\ngave it presents such as young girls love,--bright shells and\npolished stones, little birds and flowers of various hues, beads\nand amber. He put raiment on its limbs, and jewels on its fingers,\nand a necklace about its neck. To the ears he hung earrings and\nstrings of pearls upon the breast. Her dress became her, and she\nlooked not less charming than when unattired. He laid her on a\ncouch spread with cloths of Tyrian dye, and called her his wife,\nand put her head upon a pillow of the softest feathers, as if she\ncould enjoy their softness.\n\nThe festival of Venus was at hand--a festival celebrated with\ngreat pomp at Cyprus. Victims were offered, the altars smoked, and\nthe odor of incense filled the air. When Pygmalion had performed\nhis part in the solemnities, he stood before the altar and timidly\nsaid, \"Ye gods, who can do all things, give me, I pray you, for my\nwife\"--he dared not say \"my ivory virgin,\" but said instead--\"one\nlike my ivory virgin.\" Venus, who was present at the festival,\nheard him and knew the thought he would have uttered; and as an\nomen of her favor, caused the flame on the altar to shoot up\nthrice in a fiery point into the air. When he returned home, he\nwent to see his statue, and leaning over the couch, gave a kiss to\nthe mouth. It seemed to be warm. He pressed its lips again, he\nlaid his hand upon the limbs; the ivory felt soft to his touch and\nyielded to his fingers like the wax of Hymettus. While he stands\nastonished and glad, though doubting, and fears he may be\nmistaken, again and again with a lover's ardor he touches the\nobject of his hopes. It was indeed alive! The veins when pressed\nyielded to the finger and again resumed their roundness. Then at\nlast the votary of Venus found words to thank the goddess, and\npressed his lips upon lips as real as his own. The virgin felt the\nkisses and blushed, and opening her timid eyes to the light, fixed\nthem at the same moment on her lover. Venus blessed the nuptials\nshe had formed, and from this union Paphos was born, from whom the\ncity, sacred to 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. The following\ntranslation is furnished by a friend:\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\n    --S. G. B.\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 stream\nthat sloped gradually down to the water's edge, while the upland\nwas overgrown with myrtles. They were intending to gather flowers\nfor forming garlands for the altars of the nymphs, and Dryope\ncarried her child at her bosom, precious burden, and nursed him as\nshe walked. Near the water grew a lotus plant, full of purple\nflowers. Dryope gathered some and offered them to the baby, and\nIole was about to do the same, when she perceived blood dropping\nfrom the places where her sister had broken them off the stem. The\nplant was no other than the nymph Lotis, who, running from a base\npursuer, had been changed into this form. This they learned from\nthe 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 her\nupper limbs. The woodiness crept upward, and by degrees invested\nher body. In anguish she attempted to tear her hair, but found her\nhands filled with leaves. The infant felt his mother's bosom begin\nto harden, and the milk cease to flow. Iole looked on at the sad\nfate of her sister, and could render no assistance. She embraced\nthe growing trunk, as if she would hold back the advancing wood,\nand would gladly have been enveloped in the same bark. At this\nmoment Andraemon, the husband of Dryope, with her father,\napproached; and when they asked for Dryope, Iole pointed them to\nthe new-formed lotus. They embraced the trunk of the yet warm\ntree, and showered their kisses on its leaves.\n\nNow there was nothing left of Dryope but her face. Her tears still\nflowed and fell on her leaves, and while she could she spoke. \"I\nam not guilty. I deserve not this fate. I have injured no one. If\nI speak falsely, may my foliage perish with drought and my trunk\nbe cut down and burned. Take this infant and give it to a nurse.\nLet it often be brought and nursed under my branches, and play in\nmy shade; and when he is old enough to talk, let him be taught to\ncall me mother, and to say with sadness, 'My mother lies hid under\nthis bark.' But bid him be careful of river banks, and beware how\nhe plucks flowers, remembering that every bush he sees may be a\ngoddess in disguise. Farewell, dear husband, and sister, and\nfather. If you retain any love for me, let not the axe wound me,\nnor the flocks bite and tear my branches. Since I cannot stoop to\nyou, climb up hither and kiss me; and while my lips continue to\nfeel, lift up my child that I may kiss him. I can speak no more,\nfor already the bark advances up my neck, and will soon shoot over\nme. You need not close my eyes, the bark will close them without\nyour aid.\" 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. 'T was a lay\n     More subtle-cadenced, more forest-wild\n     Than Dryope's lone lulling of her child;\" etc.\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 metals.\nShe absented herself even from heaven, for Adonis was dearer to\nher than heaven. Him she followed and bore him company. She who\nused to love to recline in the shade, with no care but to\ncultivate her charms, now rambles through the woods and over the\nhills, dressed like the huntress Diana; and calls her dogs, and\nchases hares and stags, or other game that it is safe to hunt, but\nkeeps clear of the wolves and bears, reeking with the slaughter of\nthe herd. She charged Adonis, too, to beware of such dangerous\nanimals. \"Be brave towards the timid,\" said she; \"courage against\nthe courageous is not safe. Beware how you expose yourself to\ndanger and put my happiness to risk. Attack not the beasts that\nNature has armed with weapons. I do not value your glory so high\nas to consent to purchase it by such exposure. Your youth, and the\nbeauty that charms Venus, will not touch the hearts of lions and\nbristly boars. Think of their terrible claws and prodigious\nstrength! I hate the whole race of them. Do you ask me why?\" Then\nshe told him the story of Atalanta and Hippomenes, who were\nchanged into lions for their ingratitude 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 to\nheed such counsels. The dogs had roused a wild boar from his lair,\nand the youth threw his spear and wounded the animal with a\nsidelong stroke. The beast drew out the weapon with his jaws, and\nrushed after Adonis, who turned and ran; but the boar overtook\nhim, and buried his tusks in his side, and stretched him dying\nupon the plain.\n\nVenus, in her swan-drawn chariot, had not yet reached Cyprus, when\nshe heard coming up through mid-air the groans of her beloved,\nand turned her white-winged coursers back to earth. As she drew\nnear and saw from on high his lifeless body bathed in blood, she\nalighted and, bending over it, beat her breast and tore her hair.\nReproaching the Fates, she said, \"Yet theirs shall be but a\npartial triumph; memorials of my grief shall endure, and the\nspectacle of your death, my Adonis, and of my lamentations shall\nbe annually renewed. Your blood shall be changed into a flower;\nthat consolation none can envy me.\" Thus speaking, she sprinkled\nnectar on the blood; and as they mingled, bubbles rose as in a\npool on which raindrops fall, and in an hour's time there sprang\nup a flower of bloody hue like that of the pomegranate. But it is\nshort-lived. It is said the wind blows the blossoms open, and\nafterwards blows the petals away; so it is called Anemone, or Wind\nFlower, from the cause which assists equally in its production and\nits 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;\" etc.\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, and\nexcited with the sport ran forward to seize it, eager to make his\nthrow, when the quoit bounded from the earth and struck him in the\nforehead. He fainted and fell. The god, as pale as himself, raised\nhim and tried all his art to stanch the wound and retain the\nflitting life, but all in vain; the hurt was past the power of\nmedicine. As when one has broken the stem of a lily in the garden\nit hangs its head and turns its flowers to the earth, so the head\nof the dying boy, as if too heavy for his neck, fell over on his\nshoulder. \"Thou diest, Hyacinth,\" so spoke Phoebus, \"robbed of thy\nyouth by me. Thine is the suffering, mine the crime. Would that I\ncould die for thee! But since that may not be, thou shalt live\nwith me in memory and in song. My lyre shall celebrate thee, my\nsong shall tell thy fate, and thou shalt become a flower inscribed\nwith my regrets.\" While Apollo spoke, behold the blood which had\nflowed on the ground and stained the herbage ceased to be blood;\nbut a flower of hue more beautiful than the Tyrian sprang up,\nresembling the lily, if it were not that this is purple and that\nsilvery white. [Footnote: It is evidently not our modern hyacinth\nthat is here described. It is perhaps some species of iris, or\nperhaps of larkspur or of pansy.] And this was not enough for\nPhoebus; but to confer still greater honor, he marked the petals\nwith his sorrow, and inscribed \"Ah! ah!\" upon them, as we see to\nthis day. The flower bears the name of Hyacinthus, and with every\nreturning spring revives the memory of his 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 quoit\nout of its course to make it strike Hyacinthus. Keats alludes to\nthis in his \"Endymion,\" where he describes the lookers-on at the\ngame 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\n\"Lycidas\":\n\n    \"Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nCEYX AND HALCYONE: OR, THE HALCYON BIRDS\n\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 Carlos in Ionia, to consult the oracle of Apollo.\nBut as soon as he disclosed his intention to his wife Halcyone, a\nshudder ran through her frame, and her face grew deadly pale.\n\"What fault of mine, dearest husband, has turned your affection\nfrom me? Where is that love of me that used to be uppermost in\nyour thoughts? Have you learned to feel easy in the absence of\nHalcyone? Would you rather have me away?\" She also endeavored to\ndiscourage him, by describing the violence of the winds, which she\nhad known familiarly when she lived at home in her father's\nhouse,--Aeolus being the god of the winds, and having as much as\nhe could do to restrain them. \"They rush together,\" said she,\n\"with such fury that fire flashes from the conflict. But if you\nmust go,\" she added, \"dear husband, let me go with you, otherwise\nI shall suffer not only the real evils which you must encounter,\nbut 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 shiphouse, and the oars and sails to\nbe put aboard. When Halcyone saw these preparations she shuddered,\nas if with a presentiment of evil. With tears and sobs she said\nfarewell, 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 her\nhusband standing on the deck, waving his hand to her. She answered\nhis signal till the vessel had receded so far that she could no\nlonger distinguish his form from the rest. When the vessel itself\ncould no more be seen, she strained her eyes to catch the last\nglimmer of the sail, till that too disappeared. Then, retiring to\nher chamber, she threw herself on her solitary couch.\n\nMeanwhile they glide out of the harbor, and the breeze plays among\nthe ropes. The seamen draw in their oars, and hoist their sails.\nWhen half or less of their course was passed, as night drew on,\nthe sea began to whiten with swelling waves, and the east wind to\nblow a gale. The master gave the word to take in sail, but the\nstorm forbade obedience, for such is the roar of the winds and\nwaves his orders are unheard. The men, of their own accord, busy\nthemselves to secure the oars, to strengthen the ship, to reef the\nsail. While they thus do what to each one seems best, the storm\nincreases. The shouting of the men, the rattling of the shrouds,\nand the dashing of the waves, mingle with the roar of the thunder.\nThe swelling sea seems lifted up to the heavens, to scatter its\nfoam among the clouds; then sinking away to the bottom assumes the\ncolor of the shoal--a Stygian blackness.\n\nThe vessel shares all these changes. It seems like a wild beast\nthat rushes on the spears of the hunters. Rain falls in torrents,\nas if the skies were coming down to unite with the sea. When the\nlightning ceases for a moment, the night seems to add its own\ndarkness to that of the storm; then comes the flash, rending the\ndarkness asunder, and lighting up all with a glare. Skill fails,\ncourage sinks, and death seems to come on every wave. The men are\nstupefied with terror. The thought of parents, and kindred, and\npledges left at home, comes over their minds. Ceyx thinks of\nHalcyone. No name but hers is on his lips, and while he yearns for\nher, he yet rejoices in her absence. Presently the mast is\nshattered by a stroke of lightning, the rudder broken, and the\ntriumphant surge curling over looks down upon, the wreck, then\nfalls, and crushes it to fragments. Some of the seamen, stunned by\nthe stroke, sink, and rise no more; others cling to fragments of\nthe wreck. Ceyx, with the hand that used to grasp the sceptre,\nholds fast to a plank, calling for help,--alas, in vain,--upon his\nfather and his father-in-law. But oftenest on his lips was the\nname of Halcyone. To her his thoughts cling. He prays that the\nwaves may bear his body to her sight, and that it may receive\nburial at her hands. At length the waters overwhelm him, and he\nsinks. The Day-star looked dim that night. Since it could not\nleave the heavens, it shrouded its face with clouds.\n\nIn the meanwhile Halcyone, ignorant of all these horrors, counted\nthe days till her husband's promised return. Now she gets ready\nthe garments which he shall put on, and now what she shall wear\nwhen he arrives. To all the gods she offers frequent incense, but\nmore than all to Juno. For her husband, who was no more, she\nprayed incessantly: that he might be safe; that he might come\nhome; that he might not, in his absence, see any one that he would\nlove better than her. But of all these prayers, the last was the\nonly one destined to be granted. The goddess, at length, could not\nbear any longer to be pleaded with for one already dead, and to\nhave hands raised to her altars that ought rather to be offering\nfuneral rites. So, calling Iris, she said, \"Iris, my faithful\nmessenger, go to the drowsy dwelling of Somnus, and tell him to\nsend a vision to Halcyone in the form of Ceyx, to make known to\nher 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 Cimmerian\ncountry, a mountain cave is the abode of the dull god Somnus. Here\nPhoebus dares not come, either rising, at midday, or setting.\nClouds and shadows are exhaled from the ground, and the light\nglimmers faintly. The bird of dawning, with crested head, never\nthere calls aloud to Aurora, nor watchful dog, nor more sagacious\ngoose disturbs the silence. No wild beast, nor cattle, nor branch\nmoved with the wind, nor sound of human conversation, breaks the\nstillness. Silence reigns there; but from the bottom of the rock\nthe River Lethe flows, and by its murmur invites to sleep. Poppies\ngrow abundantly before the door of the cave, and other herbs, from\nwhose juices Night collects slumbers, which she scatters over the\ndarkened earth. There is no gate to the mansion, to creak on its\nhinges, nor any watchman; but in the midst a couch of black ebony,\nadorned with black plumes and black curtains. There the god\nreclines, his limbs relaxed with sleep. Around him lie dreams,\nresembling all various forms, as many as the harvest bears stalks,\nor the forest leaves, or the seashore sand grains.\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 upon\nhis breast, at last shook himself free from himself, and leaning\non his arm, inquired her errand,--for he knew who she was. She\nanswered, \"Somnus, gentlest of the gods, tranquillizer of minds\nand soother of care-worn hearts, Juno sends you her commands that\nyou despatch a dream to Halcyone, in the city of Trachine,\nrepresenting her lost husband and all the events of the 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 in counterfeiting forms, and in\nimitating the walk, the countenance, and mode of speaking, even\nthe clothes and attitudes most characteristic of each. But he only\nimitates men, leaving it to another to personate birds, beasts,\nand serpents. Him they call Icelos; and Phantasos is a third, who\nturns himself into rocks, waters, woods, and other things without\nlife. These wait upon kings and great personages in their sleeping\nhours, while others move among the common people. Somnus chose,\nfrom all the brothers, Morpheus, to perform the command of Iris;\nthen laid his head on his pillow and yielded himself to grateful\nrepose.\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, he\nstood 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. I\nam dead. No more deceive yourself with vain hopes of my return.\nThe stormy winds sunk my ship in the Aegean Sea, waves filled my\nmouth while it called aloud on you. No uncertain messenger tells\nyou this, no vague rumor brings it to your ears. I come in person,\na shipwrecked man, to tell you my fate. Arise! give me tears, give\nme lamentations, let me not go down to Tartarus unwept.\" To these\nwords Morpheus added the voice, which seemed to be that of her\nhusband; he seemed to pour forth genuine tears; his hands had the\ngestures 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.\" Her\nown voice awakened her. Starting up, she gazed eagerly around, to\nsee if he was still present, for the servants, alarmed by her\ncries, had brought a light. When she found him not, she smote her\nbreast and rent her garments. She cares not to unbind her hair,\nbut tears it wildly. Her nurse asks what is the cause of her\ngrief. \"Halcyone is no more,\" she answers, \"she perished with her\nCeyx. Utter not words of comfort, he is shipwrecked and dead. I\nhave seen him, I have recognized him. I stretched out my hands to\nseize him and detain him. His shade vanished, but it was the true\nshade of my husband. Not with the accustomed features, not with\nthe beauty that was his, but pale, naked, and with his hair wet\nwith sea-water, he appeared to wretched me. Here, in this very\nspot, the sad vision stood,\"--and she looked to find the mark of\nhis footsteps. \"This it was, this that my presaging mind\nforeboded, when I implored him not to leave me, to trust himself\nto the waves. Oh, how I wish, since thou wouldst go, thou hadst\ntaken me with thee! It would have been far better. Then I should\nhave had no remnant of life to spend without thee, nor a separate\ndeath to die. If I could bear to live and struggle to endure, I\nshould be more cruel to myself than the sea has been to me. But I\nwill not struggle, I will not be separated from thee, unhappy\nhusband. This time, at least, I will keep thee company. In death,\nif one tomb may not include us, one epitaph shall; if I may not\nlay my ashes with thine, my name, at least, shall not be\nseparated.\" Her grief forbade more words, and these were broken\nwith tears and sobs.\n\nIt was now morning. She went to the seashore, and sought the spot\nwhere she last saw him, on his departure. \"While he lingered here,\nand cast off his tacklings, he gave me his last kiss.\" While she\nreviews every object, 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, but\nby degrees the waves bore it nearer, and it was plainly the body\nof 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 is\nher husband! Stretching out her trembling hands towards it, she\nexclaims, \"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 leaped\nupon this barrier and (it was wonderful she could do so) she flew,\nand striking the air with wings produced on the instant, skimmed\nalong the surface of the water, an unhappy bird. As she flew, her\nthroat poured forth sounds full of grief, and like the voice of\none lamenting. When she touched the mute and bloodless body, she\nenfolded its beloved limbs with her new-formed wings, and tried to\ngive kisses with her horny beak. Whether Ceyx felt it, or whether\nit was only the action of the waves, those who looked on doubted,\nbut the body seemed to raise its head. But indeed he did feel it,\nand by the pitying gods both of them were changed into birds. They\nmate and have their young ones. For seven placid days, in winter\ntime, Halcyone broods over her nest, which floats upon the sea.\nThen the way is safe to seamen. Aeolus guards the winds and keeps\nthem from disturbing the deep. The sea is given up, for the time,\nto his grandchildren.\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 on the Nativity,\" thus alludes to the fable of\nthe 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\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nVERTUMNUS AND POMONA\n\n\nThe Hamadryads were Wood-nymphs. Pomona was of this class, and no\none excelled her in love of the garden and the culture of fruit.\nShe cared not for orests and rivers, but loved the cultivated\ncountry, and trees that bear delicious apples. Her right hand bore\nfor its weapon not a javelin, but a pruning-knife. Armed with\nthis, she busied herself 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 her\nfavorites should not suffer from drought, and led streams of water\nby them, that the thirsty roots might drink. This occupation was\nher pursuit, her passion; and she was free from that which Venus\ninspires. She was not without fear of the country people, and kept\nher orchard locked, and allowed not men to enter. The Fauns and\nSatyrs would have given all they possessed to win her, and so\nwould old Sylvanus, who looks young for his years, and Pan, who\nwears a garland of pine leaves around his head. But Vertumnus\nloved her best of all; yet he sped no better than the rest. O how\noften, in the disguise of a reaper, did he bring her corn in a\nbasket, and looked the very image of a reaper! With a hay band\ntied round him, one would think he had just come from turning over\nthe grass. Sometimes he would have an ox-goad in his hand, and you\nwould have said he had just unyoked his weary oxen. Now he bore a\npruning-hook, and personated a vine-dresser; and again, with a\nladder on his shoulder, he seemed as if he was going to gather\napples. Sometimes he trudged along as a discharged soldier, and\nagain he bore a fishing-rod, as if going to fish. In this way he\ngained admission to her again and again, and fed his passion with\nthe sight 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 her, not exactly with an old woman's kiss. She\nsat down on a bank, and looked up at the branches laden with fruit\nwhich hung over her. Opposite was an elm entwined with a vine\nloaded with swelling grapes. She praised the tree and its\nassociated vine, equally. \"But,\" said she, \"if the tree stood\nalone, and had no vine clinging to it, it would have nothing to\nattract or offer us but its useless leaves. And equally the vine,\nif it were not twined round the elm, would lie prostrate on the\nground. Why will you not take a lesson from the tree and the vine,\nand consent to unite yourself with some one? I wish you would.\nHelen herself had not more numerous suitors, nor Penelope, the\nwife of shrewd Ulysses. Even while you spurn them, they court\nyou,--rural deities and others of every kind that frequent these\nmountains. But if you are prudent and want to make a good\nalliance, and will let an old woman advise you,--who loves you\nbetter than you have any idea of,--dismiss all the rest and\naccept Vertumnus, on my recommendation. I know him as well as he\nknows himself. He is not a wandering deity, but belongs to these\nmountains. Nor is he like too many of the lovers nowadays, who\nlove any one they happen to see; he loves you, and you only. Add\nto this, he is young and handsome, and has the art of assuming any\nshape he pleases, and can make himself just what you command him.\nMoreover, he loves the same things that you do, delights in\ngardening, and handles your apples with admiration. But NOW he\ncares nothing for fruits nor flowers, nor anything else, but only\nyourself. Take pity on him, and fancy him speaking now with my\nmouth. Remember that the gods punish cruelty, and that Venus hates\na hard heart, and will visit such offences sooner or later. To\nprove this, let me tell you a story, which is well known in Cyprus\nto be a fact; and I hope it will have the effect to make you more\nmerciful.\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-child\nto favor his suit. And then he tried to win her domestics to his\nside. Sometimes he committed his vows to written tablets, and\noften hung at her door garlands which he had moistened with his\ntears. He stretched himself on her threshold, and uttered his\ncomplaints to the cruel bolts and bars. She was deafer than the\nsurges which rise in the November gale; harder than steel from the\nGerman forges, or a rock that still clings to its native cliff.\nShe mocked and laughed at him, adding cruel words to her ungentle\ntreatment, 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 bind\nyour forehead with laurel,--you have conquered! I die; stony\nheart, rejoice! This at least I can do to gratify you and force\nyou to praise me; and thus shall I prove that the love of you left\nme but with life. Nor will I leave it to rumor to tell you of my\ndeath. I will come myself, and you shall see me die, and feast\nyour eyes on the spectacle. Yet, O ye gods, who look down on\nmortal woes, observe my fate! I ask but this: let me be remembered\nin coming ages, and add those years to my fame which you have reft\nfrom my life. Thus he said, and, turning his pale face and weeping\neyes towards her mansion, he fastened a rope to the gatepost, on\nwhich he had often hung garlands, and putting his head into the\nnoose, he murmured, 'This garland at least will please you, cruel\ngirl!' and falling hung suspended with his neck broken. As he fell\nhe struck against the gate, and the sound was as the sound of a\ngroan. The servants opened the door and found him dead, and with\nexclamations of pity raised him and carried him home to his\nmother, for his father was not living. She received the dead body\nof her son, and folded the cold form to her bosom, while she\npoured forth the sad words which bereaved mothers utter. The\nmournful funeral passed through the town, and the pale corpse was\nborne on a bier to the place of the funeral pile. By chance the\nhome of Anaxarete was on the street where the procession passed,\nand the lamentations of the mourners met the ears of her whom the\navenging deity had already marked for punishment.\n\n\"'Let us see this sad procession,' said she, and mounted to a\nturret, whence through an open window she looked upon the funeral.\nScarce had her eyes rested upon the form of Iphis stretched on the\nbier, when they began to stiffen, and the warm blood in her body\nto become cold. Endeavoring to step back, she found she could not\nmove her feet; trying to turn away her face, she tried in vain;\nand by degrees all her limbs became stony like her heart. That you\nmay not doubt the fact, the statue still remains, and stands in\nthe temple of Venus at Salamis, in the exact form of the lady. Now\nthink of these things, my dear, and lay aside your scorn and your\ndelays, and accept a lover. So may neither the vernal frosts\nblight your young fruits, nor furious winds scatter your\nblossoms!\"\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. Thomson in the \"Seasons\" alludes to him:\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\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\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nCUPID AND PSYCHE\n\n\nA certain king and queen had three daughters. The charms of the\ntwo elder were more than common, but the beauty of the youngest\nwas so wonderful that the poverty of language is unable to express\nits due praise. The fame of her beauty was so great that strangers\nfrom neighboring countries came in crowds to enjoy the sight, and\nlooked on her with amazement, paying her that homage which is due\nonly to Venus herself. In fact Venus found her altars deserted,\nwhile men turned their devotion to this young virgin. As she\npassed along, the people sang her praises, and strewed her way\nwith chaplets and flowers.\n\nThis perversion of homage due only to the immortal powers to the\nexaltation of a mortal gave great offence to the real Venus.\nShaking her ambrosial locks with indignation, she exclaimed, \"Am I\nthen to be eclipsed in my honors by a mortal girl? In vain then\ndid that royal shepherd, whose judgment was approved by Jove\nhimself, give me the palm of beauty over my illustrious rivals,\nPallas and Juno. But she shall not so quietly usurp my honors. I\nwill give her 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 son,\npunish that contumacious beauty; give thy mother a revenge as\nsweet as her injuries are great; infuse into the bosom of that\nhaughty girl a passion for some low, mean, unworthy being, so that\nshe may reap a mortification as great as her present exultation\nand 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, and\nsuspending them from the top of his quiver, hastened to the\nchamber of Psyche, whom he found asleep. He shed a few drops from\nthe bitter fountain over her lips, though the sight of her almost\nmoved him to pity; then touched her side with the point of his\narrow. At the touch she awoke, and opened eyes upon Cupid (himself\ninvisible), which so startled him that in his confusion he wounded\nhimself with his own arrow. Heedless of his wound, his whole\nthought now was to repair the mischief he had done, and he poured\nthe 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 a\nmonster 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 Psyche\nsaid, \"Why, my dear parents, do you now lament me? You should\nrather have grieved when the people showered upon me undeserved\nhonors, and with one voice called me a Venus. I now perceive that\nI am a victim to that name. I submit. Lead me to that rock to\nwhich my unhappy fate has destined me.\" Accordingly, all things\nbeing prepared, the royal maid took her place in the procession,\nwhich more resembled a funeral than a nuptial pomp, and with her\nparents, amid the lamentations of the people, ascended the\nmountain, on the summit of which they left her alone, and with\nsorrowful hearts returned home.\n\nWhile Psyche stood on the ridge of the mountain, panting with fear\nand with eyes full of tears, the gentle Zephyr raised her from the\nearth and bore her with an easy motion into a flowery dale. By\ndegrees her mind became composed, and she laid herself down on the\ngrassy bank to sleep. When she awoke refreshed with sleep, she\nlooked round and beheld near by a pleasant grove of tall and\nstately trees. She entered it, and in the midst discovered a\nfountain, sending forth clear and crystal waters, and fast by, a\nmagnificent palace whose august front impressed the spectator that\nit was not the work of mortal hands, but the happy retreat of some\ngod. Drawn by admiration and wonder, she approached the building\nand ventured to enter. Every object she met filled her with\npleasure and amazement. Golden pillars supported the vaulted roof,\nand the walls were enriched with carvings and paintings\nrepresenting beasts of the chase and rural scenes, adapted to\ndelight the eye of the beholder. Proceeding onward, she perceived\nthat besides the apartments of state there were others filled with\nall manner of treasures, and beautiful and precious productions of\nnature 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 and\nshall obey all your commands with our utmost care and diligence.\nRetire, therefore, to your chamber and repose on your bed of down,\nand when you see fit repair to the bath. Supper awaits you in the\nadjoining alcove when it pleases you to take 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. She\noften begged him to stay and let her behold him, but he would not\nconsent. On the contrary he charged her to make no attempt to see\nhim, for it was his pleasure, for the best of reasons, to keep\nconcealed. \"Why should you wish to behold me?\" he said; \"have you\nany doubt of my love? have you any wish ungratified? If you saw\nme, perhaps you would fear me, perhaps adore me, but all I ask of\nyou is to love me. I would rather you would love me as an equal\nthan 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 of\nher parents, left in ignorance of her fate, and of her sisters,\nprecluded from sharing with her the delights of her situation,\npreyed on her mind and made her begin to feel her palace as but a\nsplendid prison. When her husband came one night, she told him her\ndistress, and at last drew from him an unwilling consent that her\nsisters 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 she\nreturned their caresses. \"Come,\" said Psyche, \"enter with me my\nhouse 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 shoulder\nof the god, startled with which he opened his eyes and fixed them\nfull upon her; then, without saying one word, he spread his white\nwings and flew out of the window. Psyche, in vain endeavoring to\nfollow him, fell from the window to the ground. Cupid, beholding\nher as she lay in the dust, stopped his flight for an instant and\nsaid, \"O foolish Psyche, is it thus you repay my love? After\nhaving disobeyed my mother's commands and made you my wife, will\nyou think me a monster and cut off my head? But go; return to your\nsisters, whose advice you seem to think preferable to mine. I\ninflict no other punishment on you than to leave you forever. Love\ncannot dwell with suspicion.\" So saying, he fled away, leaving\npoor Psyche prostrate on the ground, filling the place with\nmournful 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 mountains, 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 was\ndashed 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 everything to its proper place and kind,\nbelieving that she ought to neglect none of the gods, but endeavor\nby her piety to engage them all in her behalf. The holy Ceres,\nwhose temple it was, finding her so religiously employed, thus\nspoke to her: \"O Psyche, truly worthy of our pity, though I cannot\nshield you from the frowns of Venus, yet I can teach you how best\nto allay her displeasure. Go, then, and voluntarily surrender\nyourself to your lady and sovereign, and try by modesty and\nsubmission to win her forgiveness, and perhaps her favor will\nrestore you the husband you have lost.\"\n\nPsyche obeyed the commands of Ceres and took her way to the temple\nof Venus, endeavoring to fortify her mind and ruminating on what\nshe should say and how best propitiate the angry goddess, feeling\nthat 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 laid up of the wound given him by his loving\nwife? You are so ill-favored and disagreeable that the only way\nyou 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 pigeons, 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 a 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 the\nant 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 the\ngods, breathing odors and crowned with roses. Seeing the task\ndone, she exclaimed, \"This is no work of yours, wicked one, but\nhis, whom to your own and his misfortune you have enticed.\" So\nsaying, she threw her a piece of black bread for her supper and\nwent 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, with\ngolden-shining fleeces on their backs. Go, fetch me a sample of\nthat precious wool gathered from every one of their fleeces.\"\n\nPsyche obediently went to the riverside, prepared to do her best\nto execute the command. But the river god inspired the reeds with\nharmonious 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 the\nnoontide sun has driven the cattle to the shade, and the serene\nspirit of the flood has lulled them to rest, you may then cross in\nsafety, and you will find the woolly gold sticking to the bushes\nand 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 she\nreceived not the approbation of her implacable mistress, who said,\n\"I know very well it is by none of your own doings that you have\nsucceeded in this task, and I am not satisfied yet that you have\nany capacity to make yourself useful. But I have another task for\nyou. Here, take this box and go your way to the infernal shades,\nand give this box to Proserpine and say, 'My mistress Venus\ndesires you to send her a little of your beauty, for in tending\nher sick son she has lost some of her own.' Be not too long on\nyour errand, for I must paint myself with it to appear at the\ncircle 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 voice\nfrom the tower said to her, \"Why, poor unlucky girl, dost thou\ndesign to put an end to thy days in so dreadful a manner? And what\ncowardice makes thee sink under this last danger who hast been so\nmiraculously supported in all thy former?\" Then the voice told her\nhow by a certain cave she might reach the realms of Pluto, and how\nto avoid all the dangers of the road, to pass by Cerberus, the\nthree-headed dog, and prevail on Charon, the ferryman, to take her\nacross the black river and bring her back again. But the voice\nadded, \"When Proserpine has given you the box filled with her\nbeauty, of all things this is chiefly to be observed by you, that\nyou never once open or look into the box nor allow your curiosity\nto pry into the treasure of the beauty of 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 the\nway 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, not\ntake the least bit to put on my cheeks to appear to more advantage\nin the eyes of my beloved husband!\" So she carefully opened the\nbox, but found nothing there of any beauty at all, but an infernal\nand truly Stygian sleep, which being thus set free from its\nprison, took possession of her, and she fell down in the midst of\nthe 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 the\nsleep from her body closed it again in the box, and waked Psyche\nwith a light touch of one of his arrows. \"Again,\" said he, \"hast\nthou almost perished by the same curiosity. But now perform\nexactly the task imposed on you by my mother, and I will take care\nof 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 soul\nso striking and beautiful as the butterfly, bursting on brilliant\nwings 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 enjoyment\nof true and pure happiness.\n\nIn works of art Psyche is represented as a maiden with the wings\nof a butterfly, along 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     Two 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 in\nthe beautiful lines of T. K. Harvey:\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 nevermore 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 the\nAge 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 censor 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\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\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nCADMUS--THE MYRMIDONS\n\n\nJupiter, under the disguise of a bull, had carried away Europa,\nthe daughter of Agenor, king of Phoenicia. Agenor commanded his\nson Cadmus to go in search of his sister, and not to return\nwithout her. Cadmus went and sought long and far for his sister,\nbut could not find her, and not daring to return unsuccessful,\nconsulted the oracle of Apollo to know what country he should\nsettle in. The oracle informed him that he should find a cow in\nthe field, and should follow her wherever she might wander, and\nwhere she stopped, should build a city and call it Thebes. Cadmus\nhad hardly left the Castalian cave, from which the oracle was\ndelivered, when he saw a young cow slowly walking before him. He\nfollowed her close, offering at the same time his prayers to\nPhoebus. The cow went on till she passed the shallow channel of\nCephisus and came out into the plain of Panope. There she stood\nstill, and raising her broad forehead to the sky, filled the air\nwith her lowings. Cadmus gave thanks, and stooping down kissed the\nforeign soil, then lifting his eyes, greeted the surrounding\nmountains. Wishing to offer a sacrifice to Jupiter, he sent his\nservants to seek pure water for a libation. Near by there stood an\nancient grove which had never been profaned by the axe, in the\nmidst of which was a cave, thick covered with the growth of\nbushes, its roof forming a low arch, from beneath which burst\nforth a fountain of purest water. In the cave lurked a horrid\nserpent with a crested head and scales glittering like gold. His\neyes shone like fire, his body was swollen with venom, he vibrated\na triple tongue, and showed a triple row of teeth. No sooner had\nthe Tyrians dipped their pitchers in the fountain, and the in-\ngushing waters made a sound, than the glittering serpent raised\nhis head out of the cave and uttered a fearful hiss. The vessels\nfell from their hands, the blood left their cheeks, they trembled\nin every limb. The serpent, twisting his scaly body in a huge\ncoil, raised his head so as to overtop the tallest trees, and\nwhile the Tyrians from terror could neither fight nor fly, slew\nsome with his fangs, others in his folds, and others with his\npoisonous 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 his\njavelin he carried in his hand a lance, and in his breast a bold\nheart, a surer reliance than either. When he entered the wood, and\nsaw the lifeless bodies of his men, and the monster with his\nbloody jaws, he exclaimed, \"O faithful friends, I will avenge you,\nor share your death.\" So saying he lifted a huge stone and threw\nit with all his force at the serpent. Such a block would have\nshaken the wall of a fortress, but it made no impression on the\nmonster. Cadmus next threw his javelin, which met with better\nsuccess, for it penetrated the serpent's scales, and pierced\nthrough to his entrails. Fierce with pain, the monster turned back\nhis head to view the wound, and attempted to draw out the weapon\nwith his mouth, but broke it off, leaving the iron point rankling\nin his flesh. His neck swelled with rage, bloody foam covered his\njaws, and the breath of his nostrils poisoned the air around. Now\nhe twisted himself into a circle, then stretched himself out on\nthe ground like the trunk of a fallen tree. As he moved onward,\nCadmus retreated before him, holding his spear opposite to the\nmonster's opened jaws. The serpent snapped at the weapon and\nattempted to bite its iron point. At last Cadmus, watching his\nchance, thrust the spear at a moment when the animal's head thrown\nback came against the trunk of a tree, and so succeeded in pinning\nhim to its side. His weight bent the tree as he struggled in the\nagonies 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 them\nin the earth. He obeyed. He made a furrow in the ground, and\nplanted the teeth, destined to produce a crop of men. Scarce had\nhe done so when the clods began to move, and the points of spears\nto appear above the surface. Next helmets with their nodding\nplumes came up, and next the shoulders and breasts and limbs of\nmen with weapons, and in time a harvest of armed warriors. Cadmus,\nalarmed, prepared to encounter a new enemy, but one of them said\nto him, \"Meddle not with our civil war.\" With that he who had\nspoken smote one of his earth-born brothers with a sword, and he\nhimself fell pierced with an arrow from another. The latter fell\nvictim to a fourth, and in like manner the whole crowd dealt with\neach other till all fell, slain with mutual wounds, except five\nsurvivors. One of these cast away his weapons and said, \"Brothers,\nlet us live in peace!\" These five joined with Cadmus in building\nhis city, to which they gave the name 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 Pentheus,\nhis grandchildren, all perished unhappily, and Cadmus and Harmonia\nquitted Thebes, now grown odious to them, and emigrated to the\ncountry of the Enchelians, who received them with honor and made\nCadmus their king. But the misfortunes of their children still\nweighed upon their minds; and one day Cadmus exclaimed, \"If a\nserpent's life is so dear to the gods, I would I were myself a\nserpent.\" No sooner had he uttered the words than he began to\nchange his form. Harmonia beheld it and prayed to the gods to let\nher share his fate. Both became serpents. They live in the woods,\nbut mindful of their origin, they neither avoid the presence of\nman 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\nFor an explanation of the last allusion, see Oracle of\nAesculapius, p. 298.\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 of\nthe Myrmidons would not give one the idea of a fierce and bloody\nrace, 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 war\nwith Minos, king of Crete. Cephalus was most kindly received, and\nthe desired assistance readily promised. \"I have people enough,\"\nsaid Aeacus, \"to protect myself and spare you such a force as you\nneed.\" \"I rejoice to see it,\" replied Cephalus, \"and my wonder has\nbeen raised, I confess, to find such a host of youths as I see\naround me, all apparently of about the same age. Yet there are\nmany individuals whom I previously knew, that I look for now in\nvain. What has become of them?\" Aeacus groaned, and replied with a\nvoice of sadness, \"I have been intending to tell you, and will now\ndo so, without more delay, that you may see how from the saddest\nbeginning a happy result sometimes flows. Those whom you formerly\nknew are now dust and ashes! A plague sent by angry Juno\ndevastated the land. She hated it because it bore the name of one\nof her husband's female favorites. While the disease appeared to\nspring from natural causes we resisted it, as we best might, by\nnatural remedies; but it soon appeared that the pestilence was too\npowerful for our efforts, and we yielded. At the beginning the sky\nseemed to settle down upon the earth, and thick clouds shut in the\nheated air. For four months together a deadly south wind\nprevailed. The disorder affected the wells and springs; thousands\nof snakes crept over the land and shed their poison in the\nfountains. The force of the disease was first spent on the lower\nanimals--dogs, cattle, sheep, and birds The luckless ploughman\nwondered to see his oxen fall in the midst of their work, and lie\nhelpless in the unfinished furrow. The wool fell from the bleating\nsheep, and their bodies pined away. The horse, once foremost in\nthe race, contested the palm no more, but groaned at his stall and\ndied an inglorious death. The wild boar forgot his rage, the stag\nhis swiftness, the bears no longer attacked the herds. Everything\nlanguished; dead bodies lay in the roads, the fields, and the\nwoods; the air was poisoned by them, I tell you what is hardly\ncredible, but neither dogs nor birds would touch them, nor\nstarving wolves. Their decay spread the infection. Next the\ndisease attacked the country people, and then the dwellers in the\ncity. At first the cheek was flushed, and the breath drawn with\ndifficulty. The tongue grew rough and swelled, and the dry mouth\nstood open with its veins enlarged and gasped for the air. Men\ncould not bear the heat of their clothes or their beds, but\npreferred to lie on the bare ground; and the ground did not cool\nthem, but, on the contrary, they heated the spot where they lay.\nNor could the physicians help, for the disease attacked them also,\nand the contact of the sick gave them infection, so that the most\nfaithful were the first victims. At last all hope of relief\nvanished, and men learned to look upon death as the only deliverer\nfrom disease. Then they gave way to every inclination, and cared\nnot to ask what was expedient, for nothing was expedient. All\nrestraint laid aside, they crowded around the wells and fountains\nand drank till they died, without quenching thirst. Many had not\nstrength to get away from the water, but died in the midst of the\nstream, and others would drink of it notwithstanding. Such was\ntheir weariness of their sick beds that some would creep forth,\nand if not strong enough to stand, would die on the ground. They\nseemed to hate their friends, and got away from their homes, as\nif, not knowing the cause of their sickness, they charged it on\nthe place of their abode. Some were seen tottering along the road,\nas long as they could stand, while others sank on the earth, and\nturned their dying eyes around to take a last look, then closed\nthem 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. You\nsee yonder a temple on the height. It is sacred to Jupiter. O how\nmany offered prayers there, husbands for wives, fathers for sons,\nand died in the very act of supplication! How often, while the\npriest made ready for sacrifice, the victim fell, struck down by\ndisease without waiting for the blow! At length all reverence for\nsacred things was lost. Bodies were thrown out unburied, wood was\nwanting for funeral piles, men fought with one another for the\npossession of them. Finally there were none left to mourn; sons\nand husbands, old men and youths, perished alike unlamented.\n\n\"Standing before the altar I raised my eyes to heaven. 'O\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 the\nomen,' I cried; 'O may it be a sign of a favorable disposition\ntowards me!' By chance there grew by the place where I stood an\noak with wide-spreading branches, sacred to Jupiter. I observed a\ntroop of ants busy with their labor, carrying minute grains in\ntheir mouths and following one another in a line up the trunk of\nthe tree. Observing their numbers with admiration, I said, 'Give\nme, O father, citizens as numerous as these, and replenish my\nempty city.' The tree shook and gave a rustling sound with its\nbranches, though no wind agitated them. I trembled in every limb,\nyet I kissed the earth and the tree. I would not confess to myself\nthat I hoped, yet I did hope. Night came on and sleep took\npossession of my frame oppressed with cares. The tree stood before\nme in my dreams, with its numerous branches all covered with\nliving, moving creatures. It seemed to shake its limbs and throw\ndown over the ground a multitude of those industrious grain-\ngathering animals, which appeared to gain in size, and grow larger\nand larger, and by and by to stand erect, lay aside their\nsuperfluous legs and their black color, and finally to assume the\nhuman form. Then I awoke, and my first impulse was to chide the\ngods who had robbed me of a sweet vision and given me no reality\nin its place. Being still in the temple, my attention was caught\nby the sound of many voices without; a sound of late unusual to my\nears. While I began to think I was yet dreaming, Telamon, my son,\nthrowing open the temple gates, exclaimed: 'Father, approach, and\nbehold things surpassing even your hopes!' I went forth; I saw a\nmultitude of men, such as I had seen in my dream, and they were\npassing in procession in the same manner. While I gazed with\nwonder and delight they approached and kneeling hailed me as their\nking. I paid my vows to Jove, and proceeded to allot the vacant\ncity to the new-born race, and to parcel out the fields among them\nI called them Myrmidons, from the ant (myrmex) from which they\nsprang. You have seen these persons; their dispositions resemble\nthose which they had in their former shape. They are a diligent\nand industrious race, eager to gain, and tenacious of their gains.\nAmong them you may recruit your forces. They will follow you to\nthe war, young in years and bold in heart.\" This description of\nthe plague is copied by Ovid from the account which Thucydides,\nthe Greek historian, gives of the plague of Athens. The historian\ndrew from life, and all the poets and writers of fiction since his\nday, when they have had occasion to describe a similar scene, have\nborrowed their details from him.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nNISUS AND SCYLLA--ECHO AND NARCISSUS--CLYTIE--HERO AND LEANDER\n\nNISUS AND SCYLLA\n\n\nMinos, king of Crete, made war upon Megara. Nisus was king of\nMegara, and Scylla was his daughter. The siege had now lasted six\nmonths and the city still held out, for it was decreed by fate\nthat it should not be taken so long as a certain purple lock,\nwhich glittered among the hair of King Nisus, remained on his\nhead. There was a tower on the city walls, which overlooked the\nplain where Minos and his army were encamped. To this tower Scylla\nused to repair, and look abroad over the tents of the hostile\narmy. The siege had lasted so long that she had learned to\ndistinguish the persons of the leaders. Minos, in particular,\nexcited her admiration. Arrayed in his helmet, and bearing his\nshield, she admired his graceful deportment; if he threw his\njavelin skill seemed combined with force in the discharge; if he\ndrew his bow Apollo himself could not have done it more\ngracefully. But when he laid aside his helmet, and in his purple\nrobes bestrode his white horse with its gay caparisons, and reined\nin its foaming mouth, the daughter of Nisus was hardly mistress of\nherself; she was almost frantic with admiration. She envied the\nweapon that he grasped, the reins that he held. She felt as if she\ncould, if it were possible, go to him through the hostile ranks;\nshe felt an impulse to cast herself down from the tower into the\nmidst of his camp, or to open the gates to him, or to do anything\nelse, so only it might gratify Minos. As she sat in the tower, she\ntalked thus with herself: \"I know not whether to rejoice or grieve\nat this sad war. I grieve that Minos is our enemy; but I rejoice\nat any cause that brings him to my sight. Perhaps he would be\nwilling to grant us peace, and receive me as a hostage. I would\nfly down, if I could, and alight in his camp, and tell him that we\nyield ourselves to his mercy. But then, to betray my father! No!\nrather would I never see Minos again. And yet no doubt it is\nsometimes 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 if\nwe can. And O if any one should wound or kill Minos! No one surely\nwould have the heart to do it; yet ignorantly, not knowing him,\none might. I will, I will surrender myself to him, with my country\nas a dowry, and so put an end to the war. But how? The gates are\nguarded, and my father keeps the keys; he only stands in my way. O\nthat it might please the gods to take him away! But why ask the\ngods to do it? Another woman, loving as I do, would remove with\nher own hands whatever stood in the way of her love. And can any\nother woman dare more than I? I would encounter fire and sword to\ngain my object; but here there is no need of fire and sword. I\nonly need my father's purple lock. More precious than gold to me,\nthat will give me all I wish.\"\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 to\nyou 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 yield\nthee a resting-place! Surely, my Crete, where Jove himself was\ncradled, shall not be polluted with such a monster!\" Thus he said,\nand gave orders that equitable terms should be allowed to the\nconquered city, and that the fleet should immediately sail from\nthe island.\n\nScylla was frantic. \"Ungrateful man,\" she exclaimed, \"is it thus\nyou leave me?--me who have given you victory,--who have sacrificed\nfor you parent and country! I am guilty, I confess, and deserve to\ndie, but not by your hand.\" As the ships left the shore, she\nleaped into the water, and seizing the rudder of the one which\ncarried Minos, she was borne along an unwelcome companion of their\ncourse. A sea-eagle ing aloft,--it was her father who had been\nchanged into that form,--seeing her, pounced down upon her, and\nstruck her with his beak and claws. In terror she let go the ship\nand would have fallen into the water, but some pitying deity\nchanged her into a bird. The sea-eagle still cherishes the old\nanimosity; and whenever he espies her in his lofty flight you may\nsee him dart down upon her, with beak and claws, to take vengeance\nfor the ancient crime.\n\nECHO AND NARCISSUS\n\nEcho was a beautiful nymph, fond of the woods and hills, where she\ndevoted herself to woodland sports. She was a favorite of Diana,\nand attended her in the chase. But Echo had one failing; she was\nfond of talking, and whether in chat or argument, would have the\nlast word. One day Juno was seeking her husband, who, she had\nreason to fear, was amusing himself among the nymphs. Echo by her\ntalk contrived to detain the goddess till the nymphs made their\nescape. When Juno discovered it, she passed sentence upon Echo in\nthese words: \"You shall forfeit the use of that tongue with which\nyou have cheated me, except for that one purpose you are so fond\nof--reply. You shall still have the last word, but no power to\nspeak first.\"\n\nThis nymph saw Narcissus, a beautiful youth, as he pursued the\nchase upon the mountains. She loved him, and followed his\nfootsteps. O how she longed to address him in the softest accents,\nand win him to converse! but it was not in her power. She waited\nwith impatience for him to speak first, and had her answer ready.\nOne day the youth, being separated from his companions, shouted\naloud, \"Who's here?\" Echo replied, \"Here.\" Narcissus looked\naround, but seeing no one called out, \"Come.\" Echo answered,\n\"Come.\" As no one came, Narcissus called again, \"Why do you shun\nme?\" Echo asked the same question. \"Let us join one another,\" said\nthe youth. The maid answered with all her heart in the same words,\nand hastened to the spot, ready to throw her arms about his neck.\nHe started back, exclaiming, \"Hands off! I would rather die than\nyou should have me!\" \"Have me,\" said she; but it was all in vain.\nHe left her, and she went to hide her blushes in the recesses of\nthe woods. From that time forth she lived in caves and among\nmountain cliffs. Her form faded with grief, till at last all her\nflesh shrank away. Her bones were changed into rocks and there was\nnothing left of her but her voice. With that she is still ready to\nreply to any one who calls her, and keeps up her old habit of\nhaving the last word.\n\nNarcissus's cruelty in this case was not the only instance. He\nshunned all the rest of the nymphs, as he had done poor Echo. One\nday a maiden who had in vain endeavored to attract him uttered a\nprayer that he might some time or other feel what it was to love\nand meet no return of affection. The avenging goddess heard and\ngranted the prayer.\n\nThere was a clear fountain, with water like silver, to which the\nshepherds never drove their flocks, nor the mountain goats\nresorted, 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 love\nme, and you yourself look not indifferent upon me. When I stretch\nforth my arms you do the same; and you smile upon me and answer my\nbeckonings with the like.\" His tears fell into the water and\ndisturbed the image. As he saw it depart, he exclaimed, \"Stay, I\nentreat you! Let me at least gaze upon you, if I may not touch\nyou.\" With this, and much more of the same kind, he cherished the\nflame that consumed him, so that by degrees he lost his color, his\nvigor, and the beauty which formerly had so charmed the nymph\nEcho. She kept near him, however, and when he exclaimed, \"Alas!\nalas!\" she answered him with the same words. He pined away and\ndied; and when his shade passed the Stygian river, it leaned over\nthe boat to catch a look of itself in the waters. The nymphs\nmourned for him, especially the water-nymphs; and when they smote\ntheir breasts Echo smote hers also. They prepared a funeral pile\nand would have burned the body, but it was nowhere to be found;\nbut in its place a flower, purple within, and surrounded with\nwhite leaves, which bears the name and preserves the memory of\nNarcissus.\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 likest thy Narcissus are?\n         O, 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 he\nmakes 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 wi vain desire,\n     Had not a voice thus warned me: 'What thou seest,\n     What there thou seest, fair creature, is thyself;'\" etc.\n\n    --Paradise Lost, Book IV.\n\nNo one of the fables of antiquity has been oftener alluded to by\nthe poets than that of Narcissus. Here are two epigrams which\ntreat it in different ways. The first is by 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-enamoured he.\"\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 tears\nand the chilly dew her only food. She gazed on the sun when he\nrose, and as he passed through his daily course to his setting;\nshe saw no other object, her face turned constantly on him. At\nlast, they say, her limbs rooted in the ground, her face became a\nflower [Footnote: The sunflower.] which turns on its stem so as\nalways to face the sun throughout its daily course; for it retains\nto that extent the feeling of the nymph from whom it sprang.\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\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 and\nthe sea was rough; his strength failed, and he was drowned. The\nwaves bore his body to the European shore, where Hero became aware\nof his death, and in her despair cast herself down from the tower\ninto 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       O 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 art\nof swimming sufficient to give a wide and lasting celebrity to any\none of our readers who may dare to make the attempt and succeed in\naccomplishing it.\n\nIn the beginning of the second canto of the same poem, Byron thus\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\n    O, 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\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nMINERVA--NIOBE\n\nMINERVA\n\n\nMinerva, the goddess of wisdom, was the daughter of Jupiter. She\nwas said to have leaped forth from his brain, mature, and in\ncomplete armor. She presided over the useful and ornamental arts,\nboth those of men--such as agriculture and navigation--and those\nof women,--spinning, weaving, and needlework. She was also a\nwarlike divinity; but it was defensive war only that she\npatronized, and she had no sympathy with Mars's savage love of\nviolence and bloodshed. Athens was her chosen seat, her own city,\nawarded to her as the prize of a contest with Neptune, who also\naspired to it. The tale ran that in the reign of Cecrops, the\nfirst king of Athens, the two deities contended for the possession\nof the city. The gods decreed that it should be awarded to that\none who produced the gift most useful to mortals. Neptune gave the\nhorse; Minerva produced the olive. The gods gave judgment that the\nolive was the more useful of the two, and awarded the city to the\ngoddess; and it was named after her, Athens, her name in Greek\nbeing Athene.\n\nThere was another contest, in which a mortal dared to come in\ncompetition with Minerva. That mortal was Arachne, a maiden who\nhad attained such skill in the arts of weaving and embroidery that\nthe nymphs themselves would leave their groves and fountains to\ncome and gaze upon her work. It was not only beautiful when it was\ndone, but beautiful also in the doing. To watch her, as she took\nthe wool in its rude state and formed it into rolls, or separated\nit with her fingers and carded it till it looked as light and soft\nas a cloud, or twirled the spindle with skilful touch, or wove the\nweb, or, after it was 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. She assumed the form of an old woman and 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. On\nthe 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 anger\nin her countenance. \"Keep your counsel,\" said she, \"for your\ndaughters or handmaids; for my part I know what I say, and I stand\nto it. I am not afraid of the goddess; let her try her skill, if\nshe dare venture.\" \"She comes,\" said Minerva; and dropping her\ndisguise stood confessed. The nymphs bent low in homage, and all\nthe bystanders paid reverence. Arachne alone was unterrified. She\nblushed, indeed; a sudden color dyed her cheek, and then she grew\npale. But she stood to her resolve, and with a foolish conceit of\nher own skill rushed on her fate. Minerva forbore no longer nor\ninterposed any further advice. They proceed to the contest. Each\ntakes her station and attaches the web to the beam. Then the\nslender shuttle is passed in and out among the threads. The reed\nwith its fine teeth strikes up the woof into its place and\ncompacts the web. Both work with speed; their skilful hands move\nrapidly, and the excitement of the contest makes the labor light.\nWool of Tyrian dye is contrasted with that of other colors, shaded\noff into one another so adroitly that the joining deceives the\neye. Like the bow, whose long arch tinges the heavens, formed by\nsunbeams reflected from the shower, [Footnote: This correct\ndescription of the rainbow is literally translated from Ovid.] in\nwhich, where the colors meet they seem as one, but at a little\ndistance from the point of contact are wholly 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 was\nthe 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 were\nmeant as warnings to her rival to give up the contest before it\nwas 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 entrance\nin the form of a golden shower. Still another depicted Europa\ndeceived by Jupiter under the disguise of a bull. Encouraged by\nthe tameness of the animal Europa ventured to mount his back,\nwhereupon Jupiter advanced into the sea and swam with her to\nCrete. You would have thought it was a real bull, so naturally was\nit wrought, and so natural the water in which it swam. She seemed\nto look with longing eyes back upon the shore she was leaving, and\nto call to her companions for help. She appeared to shudder with\nterror at the sight of the heaving waves, and to draw back her\nfeet from the water.\n\nArachne filled her canvas with similar subjects, wonderfully well\ndone, but strongly marking her presumption and impiety. Minerva\ncould not forbear to admire, yet felt indignant at the insult. She\nstruck the web with her shuttle and rent it in pieces, she then\ntouched the forehead of Arachne and made her feel her guilt and\nshame. She could not endure it and went and hanged herself.\nMinerva pitied her as she saw her suspended by a rope. \"Live,\" she\nsaid, \"guilty woman! and that you may preserve the memory of this\nlesson, continue to hang, both you and your descendants, to all\nfuture times.\" She sprinkled her with the juices of aconite, and\nimmediately her hair came off, and her nose and ears likewise. Her\nform shrank up, and her head grew smaller yet; her fingers cleaved\nto her side and served for legs. All the rest of her is body, out\nof which she spins her thread, often hanging suspended by it, in\nthe same attitude as when Minerva touched her and transformed her\ninto 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 astonied 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\n[Footnote: Sir James Mackintosh says of this, \"Do you think that\neven a Chinese could paint the gay colors of a butterfly with more\nmmute exactness than the following lines: 'The velvet nap,'\netc.?\"--Life, Vol. II, 246.]\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         \"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    \"O, 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\nNIOBE\n\nThe fate of Arachne was noised abroad through all the country, and\nserved as a warning to all presumptuous mortals not to compare\nthemselves with the divinities. But one, and she a matron too,\nfailed to learn the lesson of humility. It was Niobe, the queen of\nThebes. She had indeed much to be proud of; but it was not her\nhusband's fame, nor her own beauty, nor their great descent, nor\nthe power of their kingdom that elated her. It was her children;\nand truly the happiest of mothers would Niobe have been if only\nshe had not claimed to be so. It was on occasion of the annual\ncelebration in honor of Latona and her offspring, Apollo and\nDiana,--when the people of Thebes were assembled, their brows\ncrowned with laurel, bearing frankincense to the altars and paying\ntheir vows,--that Niobe appeared among the crowd. Her attire was\nsplendid with gold and gems, and her aspect beautiful as the face\nof an angry woman can be. She stood and surveyed the people with\nhaughty looks. \"What folly,\" said she, \"is this!--to prefer beings\nwhom you never saw to those who stand before your eyes! Why should\nLatona be honored with worship, and none be paid to me? My father\nwas Tantalus, who was received as a guest at the table of the\ngods; my mother was a goddess. My husband built and rules this\ncity, Thebes, and Phrygia is my paternal inheritance. Wherever I\nturn my eyes I survey the elements of my power; nor is my form and\npresence unworthy of a goddess. To all this let me add I have\nseven sons and seven daughters, and look for sons-in-law and\ndaughters-in-law of pretensions worthy of my alliance. Have I not\ncause for pride? Will you prefer to me this Latona, the Titan's\ndaughter, with her two children? I have seven times as many.\nFortunate indeed am I, and fortunate I shall remain! Will any one\ndeny this? My abundance is my security. I feel myself too strong\nfor Fortune to subdue. She may take from me much; I shall still\nhave much left. Were I to lose some of my children, I should\nhardly be left as poor as Latona with her two only. Away with you\nfrom these 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 the Cynthian mountain top where she\ndwelt she thus addressed her son and daughter: \"My children, I who\nhave been so proud of you both, and have been used to hold myself\nsecond to none of the goddesses except Juno alone, begin now to\ndoubt whether I am indeed a goddess. I shall be deprived of my\nworship altogether unless you protect me.\" She was proceeding in\nthis strain, but Apollo interrupted her. \"Say no more,\" said he;\n\"speech only delays punishment.\" So said Diana also. Darting\nthrough the air, veiled in clouds, they alighted on the towers of\nthe city. Spread out before the gates was a broad plain, where the\nyouth of the city pursued their warlike sports. The sons of Niobe\nwere there with the rest,--some mounted on spirited horses richly\ncaparisoned, some driving gay chariots. Ismenos, the first-born,\nas he guided his foaming steeds, struck with an arrow from above,\ncried out, \"Ah me!\" dropped the reins, and fell lifeless. Another,\nhearing the sound of the bow,--like a boatman who sees the storm\ngathering and makes all sail for the port,--gave the reins to his\nhorses and attempted to escape. The inevitable arrow overtook him\nas he fled. Two others, younger boys, just from their tasks, had\ngone to the playground to have a game of wrestling. As they stood\nbreast to breast, one arrow pierced them both. They uttered a cry\ntogether, together cast a parting look around them, and together\nbreathed their last. Alphenor, an elder brother, seeing them fall,\nhastened to the spot to render assistance, and fell stricken in\nthe act of brotherly duty. One only was left, Ilioneus. He raised\nhis arms to heaven to try whether prayer might not avail. \"Spare\nme, ye gods!\" he cried, addressing all, in his ignorance that all\nneeded not his intercessions; and Apollo would have spared him,\nbut the arrow had already left the string, and 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 think\nit possible; she was indignant that the gods had dared and amazed\nthat they had been able to do it. Her husband, Amphion,\noverwhelmed with the blow, destroyed himself. Alas! how different\nwas this Niobe from her who had so lately driven away the people\nfrom the sacred rites, and held her stately course through the\ncity, the envy of her friends, now the pity even of her foes! She\nknelt over the lifeless bodies, and kissed now one, now another of\nher dead sons. Raising her pallid arms to heaven, \"Cruel Latona,\"\nsaid she, \"feed full your rage with my anguish! Satiate your hard\nheart, while I follow to the grave my seven sons. Yet where is\nyour triumph? Bereaved as I am, I am still richer than you, my\nconqueror.\" Scarce had she spoken, when the bow sounded and struck\nterror into all hearts except Niobe's alone. She was brave from\nexcess of grief. The sisters stood in garments of mourning over\nthe biers of their dead brothers. One fell, struck by an arrow,\nand died on the corpse she was bewailing. Another, attempting to\nconsole her mother, suddenly ceased to speak, and sank lifeless to\nthe earth. A third tried to escape by flight, a fourth by\nconcealment, another stood trembling, uncertain what course to\ntake. Six were now dead, and only one remained, whom the mother\nheld clasped in her arms, and covered as it were with her whole\nbody. \"Spare me one, and that the youngest! O 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, no color\nwas on her cheek, her eyes glared fixed and immovable, there was\nno sign of life about her. Her very tongue cleaved to the roof of\nher mouth, and her veins ceased to convey the tide of life. Her\nneck bent not, her arms made no gesture, her foot no step. She was\nchanged to stone, within and without. Yet tears continued to flow;\nand borne on a whirlwind to her native mountain, she still\nremains, a mass of rock, from which a trickling stream flows, the\ntribute of her never-ending grief.\n\nThe story of Niobe has furnished Byron with a fine illustration of\nthe 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\nChilde Harold, IV. 79.\n\nThis affecting story has been made the subject of a celebrated\nstatue in the imperial gallery of Florence. It is the principal\nfigure of a group supposed to have been originally arranged in the\npediment of a temple. The figure of the mother clasped by the arm\nof her terrified child is one of the most admired of the ancient\nstatues. It ranks with the Laocoon and the Apollo among the\nmasterpieces of art. The following is a translation of a Greek\nepigram 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 very\nprolific and very tasteless poet, whose works are now forgotten,\nunless when recalled to mind by some wit like Moore for the sake\nof a joke.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nTHE GRAEAE OR GRAY-MAIDS--PERSEUS--MEDUSA--ATLAS--ANDROMEDA\n\nTHE GRAEAE AND THE GORGONS\n\n\nThe Graeae were three sisters who were gray-haired from their\nbirth, whence their name. The Gorgons were monstrous females with\nhuge teeth like those of swine, brazen claws, and snaky hair. None\nof these beings make much figure in mythology except Medusa, the\nGorgon, whose story we shall next advert to. We mention them\nchiefly to introduce an ingenious theory of some modern writers,\nnamely, that the Gorgons and Graeae were only personifications of\nthe terrors of the sea, the former denoting the STRONG billows of\nthe wide open main, and the latter the WHITE-crested waves that\ndash against the rocks of the coast. Their names in Greek signify\nthe above epithets.\n\nPERSEUS AND MEDUSA\n\nPerseus was the son of Jupiter and Danae. His grandfather\nAcrisius, alarmed by an oracle which had told him that his\ndaughter's child would be the instrument of his death, caused the\nmother and child to be shut up in a chest and set adrift on the\nsea. The chest floated towards Seriphus, where it was found by a\nfisherman who conveyed the mother and infant to Polydectes, the\nking of the country, by whom they were treated with kindness. When\nPerseus was grown up Polydectes sent him to attempt the conquest\nof Medusa, a terrible monster who had laid waste the country. She\nwas once a beautiful maiden whose hair was her chief glory, but as\nshe dared to vie in beauty with Minerva, the goddess deprived her\nof her charms and changed her beautiful ringlets into hissing\nserpents. She became a cruel monster of so frightful an aspect\nthat no living thing could behold her without being turned into\nstone. All around the cavern where she dwelt might be seen the\nstony figures of men and animals which had chanced to catch a\nglimpse of her and had been petrified with the sight. Perseus,\nfavored by Minerva and Mercury, the former of whom lent him her\nshield and the latter his winged shoes, approached Medusa while\nshe slept, and taking care not to look directly at her, but guided\nby her image reflected in the bright shield which he bore, he cut\noff her head and gave it to Minerva, who fixed it in the middle of\nher 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 North-east,\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    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\n    --Imitations of Shakspeare.\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 came\non, he reached the western limit of the earth, where the sun goes\ndown. Here he would gladly have rested till morning. It was the\nrealm of King Atlas, whose bulk surpassed that of all other men.\nHe was rich in flocks and herds and had no neighbor or rival to\ndispute his state. But his chief pride was in his gardens, whose\nfruit was of gold, hanging from golden branches, half hid with\ngolden leaves. Perseus said to him, \"I come as a guest. If you\nhonor illustrious descent, I claim Jupiter for my father; if\nmighty deeds, I plead the conquest of the Gorgon. I seek rest and\nfood.\" But Atlas remembered that an ancient prophecy had warned\nhim that a son of Jove should one day rob him of his golden\napples. So he answered, \"Begone! or neither your false claims of\nglory nor parentage shall protect you;\" and he attempted to thrust\nhim out. Perseus, finding the giant too strong for him, said,\n\"Since you value my friendship so little, deign to accept a\npresent;\" and turning his face away, he held up the Gorgon's head.\nAtlas, with all his bulk, was changed into stone. His beard and\nhair became forests, his arms and shoulders cliffs, his head a\nsummit, and his bones rocks. Each part increased in bulk till he\nbecame a mountain, and (such was the pleasure of the gods) heaven\nwith all its stars rests upon his shoulders.\n\nTHE SEA-MONSTER\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 the\ndeities, Cepheus was directed by the oracle to expose his daughter\nAndromeda to be devoured by the monster. As Perseus looked down\nfrom his aerial height he beheld the virgin chained to a rock, and\nwaiting the approach of the serpent. She was so pale and\nmotionless that if it had not been for her flowing tears and her\nhair that moved in the breeze, he would have taken her for a\nmarble statue. He was so startled at the sight that he almost\nforgot to wave his wings. As he hovered over her he said, \"O\nvirgin, undeserving of those chains, but rather of such as bind\nfond lovers together, tell me, I beseech you, your name, and the\nname of your country, and why you are thus bound.\" At first she\nwas silent from modesty, and, if she could, would have hid her\nface with her hands; but when he repeated his questions, for fear\nshe might be thought guilty of some fault which she dared not\ntell, 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 we\nhave for rescue. My rank as the son of Jove and my renown as the\nslayer of the Gorgon might make me acceptable as a suitor; but I\nwill try to win her by services rendered, if the gods will only be\npropitious. If she be rescued by my valor, I demand that she be my\nreward.\" The parents consent (how could they hesitate?) and\npromise 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 serpent\nbasking in the sun, pounces upon him and seizes him by the neck to\nprevent him from turning his head round and using his fangs, so\nthe youth darted down upon the back of the monster and plunged his\nsword into its shoulder. Irritated by the wound, the monster\nraised himself in the air, then plunged into the depth; then, like\na wild boar surrounded, by a pack of barking dogs, turned swiftly\nfrom side to side, while the youth eluded its attacks by means of\nhis wings. Wherever he can find a passage for his sword between\nthe scales he makes a wound, piercing now the side, now the flank,\nas it slopes towards the tail. The brute spouts from his nostrils\nwater mixed with blood. The wings of the hero are wet with it, and\nhe dares no longer trust to them. Alighting on a rock which rose\nabove the waves, and holding on by a projecting fragment, as the\nmonster floated near he gave him a death stroke. The people who\nhad gathered on the shore shouted so that the hills reechoed the\nsound. The parents, transported with joy, embraced their future\nson-in-law, calling him their deliverer and the savior of their\nhouse, and the virgin both cause and reward of the contest,\ndescended from the 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 her\ndeath she was placed among the stars, forming the constellation of\nthat name. Though she attained this honor, yet the Sea-Nymphs, her\nold enemies, prevailed so far as to cause her to be placed in that\npart of the heaven near the pole, where every night she is half\nthe time held with her head downward, to give her a lesson of\nhumility.\n\nMemnon was an Aethiopian prince, of whom we shall tell in a future\nchapter.\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 warlike clamor, and\nPhineus, 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 when\nshe lay bound to the rock, the monster's victim. The sentence of\nthe gods dooming her to such a fate dissolved all engagements, as\ndeath itself would have done.\" Phineus made no reply, but hurled\nhis javelin at Perseus, but it missed its mark and fell harmless.\nPerseus would have thrown his in turn, but the cowardly assailant\nran and took shelter behind the altar. But his act was a signal\nfor an onset by his band upon the guests of Cepheus. They defended\nthemselves and a general conflict ensued, the old king retreating\nfrom the scene after fruitless expostulations, calling the gods to\nwitness that he was guiltless of this outrage on the rights of\nhospitality.\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 nor\nwithdraw it. Another, in the midst of a vociferous challenge,\nstopped, his mouth open, but no sound issuing. One of Perseus's\nfriends, Aconteus, caught sight of the Gorgon and stiffened like\nthe rest. Astyages struck him with his sword, but instead of\nwounding, 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 knees\nand stretching out his hands to Perseus, but turning his head away\nhe begged for mercy. \"Take all,\" said he, \"give me but my life.\"\n\"Base coward,\" said Perseus, \"thus much I will grant you; no\nweapon shall touch you; moreover, you shall be preserved in my\nhouse as a memorial of these events.\" So saying, he held the\nGorgon's head to the side where Phineus was looking, and in the\nvery form in which he knelt, with his hands outstretched and face\naverted, he became fixed immovably, a mass of 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\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nMONSTERS\n\nGIANTS, SPHINX, PEGASUS AND CHIMAERA, CENTAURS, GRIFFIN, AND\nPYGMIES\n\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 Chimaera;\nand to these all the terrible qualities of wild beasts were\nattributed, together with human sagacity and faculties. Others, as\nthe giants, differed from men chiefly in their size; and in this\nparticular we must recognize a wide distinction among them. The\nhuman giants, if so they may be called, such as the Cyclopes,\nAntaeus, Orion, and others, must be supposed not to be altogether\ndisproportioned to human beings, for they mingled in love and\nstrife with them. But the superhuman giants, who warred with the\ngods, were of vastly larger dimensions. Tityus, we are told, when\nstretched on the plain, covered nine acres, and Enceladus required\nthe whole of Mount Aetna to be laid upon him to 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 time\nthey put the gods to such fear that they fled into Egypt and hid\nthemselves under various forms. Jupiter took the form of a ram,\nwhence he was afterwards worshipped in Egypt as the god Ammon,\nwith curved horns. Apollo became a crow, Bacchus a goat, Diana a\ncat, Juno a cow, Venus a fish, Mercury a bird. At another time the\ngiants attempted to climb up into heaven, and for that purpose\ntook up the mountain Ossa and piled it on Pelion. [Footnote: See\nProverbial Expressions.] They were at last subdued by\nthunderbolts, which Minerva invented, and taught Vulcan and his\nCyclopes to make for Jupiter.\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 care\nof a herdsman with orders to destroy him; but the herdsman, moved\nwith pity, yet not daring entirely to disobey, tied up the child\nby the feet and left him hanging to the branch of a tree. In this\ncondition the infant was found by a peasant, who carried him to\nhis master and mistress, by whom he was adopted and called\nOEdipus, or Swollen-foot.\n\nMany years afterwards Laius being on his way to Delphi,\naccompanied only by one attendant, met in a narrow road a young\nman also driving in a chariot. On his refusal to leave the way at\ntheir command the attendant killed one of his horses, and the\nstranger, filled with rage, slew both Laius and his attendant. The\nyoung man was OEdipus, who thus unknowingly became the slayer of\nhis own father.\n\nShortly after this event the city of Thebes was afflicted with a\nmonster which infested the highroad. It was called the Sphinx. It\nhad the body of a lion and the upper part of a woman. It lay\ncrouched on the top of a rock, and arrested all travellers who\ncame that way proposing to them a riddle, with the condition that\nthose who could solve it should pass safe, but those who failed\nshould be killed. Not one had yet succeeded in solving it, and all\nhad been slain. OEdipus was not daunted by these alarming\naccounts, but boldly advanced to the trial. The Sphinx asked him,\n\"What animal is that which in the morning gees on four feet, at\nnoon on two, and in the evening upon three?\" OEdipus replied,\n\"Man, who in childhood creeps on hands and knees, in manhood walks\nerect, and in old age with the aid of a staff.\" The Sphinx was so\nmortified at the solving of her riddle that she cast herself down\nfrom 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, seized\nwith madness, tore out his eyes and wandered away from Thebes,\ndreaded and abandoned by all except his daughters, who faithfully\nadhered to him, till after a tedious period of miserable wandering\nhe found the termination of his wretched life.\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 him and\ntamed him and presented him to the Muses. The fountain Hippocrene,\non the Muses' mountain Helicon, was opened by a kick from his\nhoof.\n\nThe Chimaera was a fearful monster, breathing fire. The fore part\nof its body was a compound of the lion and the goat, and the hind\npart a dragon's. It made great havoc in Lycia, so that the king,\nIobates, sought for some hero to destroy it. At that time there\narrived at his court a gallant young warrior, whose name was\nBellerophon. He brought letters from Proetus, the son-in-law of\nIobates, 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 was\njealous of him, suspecting that his wife Antea looked with too\nmuch 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 the\nproposal, 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 bridle\nthe winged steed came willingly and suffered himself to be taken.\nBellerophon mounted him, rose with him into the air, soon found\nthe Chimaera, and gained an easy victory over the monster.\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 throne.\nAt last Bellerophon by his pride and presumption drew upon himself\nthe anger of the gods; it is said he even attempted to fly up into\nheaven on his winged steed, but Jupiter sent a gadfly which stung\nPegasus and made him throw his rider, who became lame and blind in\nconsequence. After this Bellerophon wandered lonely through the\nAleian field, avoiding the paths of men, and died miserably.\n\nMilton alludes to Bellerophon in the beginning of 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                           Upled 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 sceptic, 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\nVol II, p 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 having\nbeen sold by a needy poet and put to the cart and the plough. He\nwas not fit for such service, and his clownish master could make\nnothing of him But a youth stepped forth and asked leave to try\nhim As soon as he was seated on his back the horse, which had\nappeared at first vicious, and afterwards spirit-broken, rose\nkingly, a spirit, a god, unfolded the splendor of his wings, and\nsoared towards heaven. Our own poet Longfellow also records an\nadventure of this famous steed in his \"Pegasus in Pound.\"\n\nShakspeare 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\nTHE CENTAURS\n\nThese monsters were represented as men from the head to the loins,\nwhile the remainder of the body was that of a horse. The ancients\nwere too fond of a horse to consider the union of his nature with\nman's as forming a very degraded compound, and accordingly the\nCentaur is the only one of the fancied monsters of antiquity to\nwhich any good traits are assigned. The Centaurs were admitted to\nthe companionship of man, and at the marriage of Pirithous with\nHippodamia they were among the guests. At the feast Eurytion, one\nof the Centaurs, becoming intoxicated with the wine, attempted to\noffer violence to the bride; the other Centaurs followed his\nexample, and a dreadful conflict arose in which several of them\nwere slain. This is the celebrated battle of the Lapithae and\nCentaurs, a favorite subject with the sculptors and poets of\nantiquity.\n\nBut not all the Centaurs were 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 charge\nby Apollo, his father. When the sage returned to his home bearing\nthe infant, his daughter Ocyroe came forth to meet him, and at\nsight of the child burst forth into a prophetic strain (for she\nwas a prophetess), foretelling the glory that he was to achieve\nAesculapius when grown up became a renowned physician, and even in\none instance succeeded in restoring the dead to life. Pluto\nresented this, and Jupiter, at his request, struck the bold\nphysician with lightning, and killed him, but after his death\nreceived 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\nTHE PYGMIES\n\nThe Pygmies were a nation of dwarfs, so called from a Greek word\nwhich means the cubit or measure of about thirteen inches, which\nwas said to be the height of these people. They lived near the\nsources of the Nile, or according to others, in India. Homer tells\nus that the cranes used to migrate every winter to the Pygmies'\ncountry, and their appearance was the signal of bloody warfare to\nthe puny inhabitants, who had to take up arms to defend their\ncornfields against the rapacious strangers. The Pygmies and their\nenemies the Cranes form the subject 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 uses 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 arbitress, 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\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,\" etc.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nTHE GOLDEN FLEECE--MEDEA\n\nTHE GOLDEN FLEECE\n\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\nvaulted 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,--now\nthe Dardanelles. The ram continued his career till he reached the\nkingdom of Colchis, on the eastern shore of the Black Sea, where\nhe safely landed the boy Phryxus, who was hospitably received by\nAeetes, king of the country. Phryxus sacrificed the ram to\nJupiter, and gave the Golden Fleece to Aeetes, who placed it in a\nconsecrated grove, under the care of a sleepless dragon.\n\nThere was another kingdom in Thessaly near to that of Athamas, and\nruled over by a relative of his. The king Aeson, being tired of\nthe 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 Fleece,\nwhich it was well known was in the kingdom of Colchis, and was, as\nPelias pretended, the rightful property of their family. Jason was\npleased with the thought, and forthwith made preparations for the\nexpedition. At that time the only species of navigation known to\nthe Greeks consisted of small boats or canoes hollowed out from\ntrunks of trees, so that when Jason employed Argus to build him a\nvessel capable of containing fifty men, it was considered a\ngigantic undertaking. It was accomplished, however, and the vessel\nnamed \"Argo,\" from the name of the builder. Jason sent his\ninvitation to all the adventurous young men of Greece, and soon\nfound himself at the head of a band of bold youths, many of whom\nafterwards were renowned among the heroes and demigods of Greece.\nHercules, Theseus, Orpheus, and Nestor were among them. They are\ncalled the 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 islands,\nwhich floated on the surface, and in their tossings and heavings\noccasionally came together, crushing and grinding to atoms any\nobject that might be caught between them. They were called the\nSymplegades, or Clashing Islands. Phineus instructed the Argonauts\nhow to pass this dangerous strait. When they reached the islands\nthey let go a dove, which took her way between the rocks, and\npassed in safety, only losing some feathers of her tail. Jason and\nhis men seized the favorable moment of the rebound, plied their\noars with vigor, and passed safe through, though the islands\nclosed behind them, and actually grazed their stern. They now\nrowed along the shore till they arrived at the eastern end of the\nsea, and landed at the kingdom of 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 was\nwell known that a crop of armed men would spring up, who would\nturn their weapons against their producer. Jason accepted the\nconditions, 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 stood\nbefore the altar of Hecate, called the goddess to witness his\noath. 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 fire\nfrom their nostrils that burned up the herbage as they passed. The\nsound was like the roar of a furnace, and the smoke like that of\nwater upon quick-lime. Jason advanced boldly to meet them. His\nfriends, the chosen heroes of Greece, trembled to behold him.\nRegardless of the burning breath, he soothed their rage with his\nvoice, patted their necks with fearless hand, and adroitly slipped\nover them the yoke, and compelled them to drag the plough. The\nColchians were amazed; the Greeks shouted for joy. Jason next\nproceeded to sow the dragon's teeth and plough them in. And soon\nthe crop of armed men sprang up, and, wonderful to relate! no\nsooner had they reached the surface than they began to brandish\ntheir weapons and rush upon Jason. The Greeks trembled for their\nhero, and even she who had provided him a way of safety and taught\nhim how to use it, Medea herself, grew pale with fear. Jason for a\ntime kept his assailants at bay with his sword and shield, till,\nfinding their numbers overwhelming, he resorted to the charm which\nMedea had taught him, seized a stone and threw it in the midst of\nhis foes. They immediately turned their arms against one another,\nand soon there was not one of the dragon's brood left alive. The\nGreeks embraced their hero, and Medea, if she dared, would have\nembraced him too.\n\nIt remained to lull to sleep the dragon that guarded the fleece,\nand this was done by scattering over him a few drops of a\npreparation which Medea had supplied. At the smell he relaxed his\nrage, stood for a moment motionless, then shut those great round\neyes, that had never been known to shut before, and turned over on\nhis side, fast asleep. Jason seized the fleece and with his\nfriends and Medea accompanying, hastened to their vessel before\nAeetes the king could arrest their departure, and made the best of\ntheir way back to Thessaly, where they arrived safe, and Jason\ndelivered the fleece to Pelias, and dedicated the \"Argo\" to\nNeptune. What became of the fleece afterwards we do not know, but\nperhaps it was found after all, like many other golden prizes, not\nworth the trouble it had cost to procure it.\n\nThis is one of those mythological tales, says a late writer, in\nwhich there is reason to believe that a substratum of truth\nexists, though overlaid by a mass of fiction. It probably was the\nfirst important maritime expedition, and like the first attempts\nof the kind of all nations, as we know from history, was probably\nof a half-piratical character. If rich spoils were the result it\nwas enough to give rise to the idea of the golden fleece.\n\nAnother suggestion of a learned mythologist, Bryant, is that it is\na corrupt tradition of the story of Noah and the ark. The name\n\"Argo\" seems to countenance this, and the incident of the dove is\nanother confirmation.\n\nPope, in his \"Ode on St. Cecilia'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\n\"Argo\" and 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,\" etc.\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. Hercules\nwent in quest of the lad, and while he was absent the \"Argo\" put\nto sea and left him. Moore, in one of his songs, makes a beautiful\nallusion 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 shrme,\n     Their time with the flowers on the margin have wasted,\n       And left their light urns all as empty as mine.\"\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 spouse, would that your\narts, whose power I have seen so mighty for my aid, could do me\none further service, take some years from my life and add them to\nmy father's.\" Medea replied, \"Not at such a cost shall it be done,\nbut if my art avails me, his life shall be lengthened without\nabridging yours.\" The next full moon she issued forth alone, while\nall creatures slept; not a breath stirred the foliage, and all was\nstill. To the stars she addressed her incantations, and to the\nmoon; to Hecate, [Footnote: Hecate was a mysterious divinity\nsometimes identified with Diana and sometimes with Proserpine. As\nDiana represents the moonlight splendor of night, so Hecate\nrepresents its darkness and terrors. She was the goddess of\nsorcery and witchcraft, and was believed to wander by night along\nthe earth, seen only by the dogs, whose barking told her\napproach.] the goddess of the underworld, and to Tellus the\ngoddess of the earth, by whose power plants potent for enchantment\nare produced. She invoked the gods of the woods and caverns, of\nmountains and valleys, of lakes and rivers, of winds and vapors.\nWhile she spoke the stars shone brighter, and presently a chariot\ndescended through the air, drawn by flying serpents. She ascended\nit, and borne aloft made her way to distant regions, where potent\nplants grew which she knew how to select for her purpose. Nine\nnights she employed in her search, and during that time came not\nwithin the doors of her palace nor under any roof, and shunned all\nintercourse with mortals.\n\nShe next erected two altars, the one to Hecate, the other to Hebe,\nthe 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. Then\nshe directed that Aeson should be led forth, and having thrown him\ninto a deep sleep by a charm, had him laid on a bed of herbs, like\none dead. Jason and all others were kept away from the place, that\nno profane eyes might look upon her mysteries. Then, with\nstreaming hair, she thrice moved round the altars, dipped flaming\ntwigs in the blood, and laid them thereon to burn. Meanwhile the\ncaldron with its contents was got ready. In it she put magic\nherbs, with seeds and flowers of acrid juice, stones from the\ndistant east, and sand from the shore of all-surrounding ocean;\nhoar frost, gathered by moonlight, a screech owl's head and wings,\nand the entrails of a wolf. She added fragments of the shells of\ntortoises, and the liver of stags,--animals tenacious of life,--\nand the head and beak of a crow, that outlives nine generations of\nmen. These with many other things \"without a name\" she boiled\ntogether for her purposed work, stirring them up with a dry olive\nbranch; and behold! the branch when taken out instantly became\ngreen, and before long was covered with leaves and a plentiful\ngrowth of young olives; and as the liquor boiled and bubbled, and\nsometimes ran over, the grass wherever the sprinklings fell shot\nforth with a verdure like that of spring.\n\nSeeing that all was ready, Medea cut the throat of the old man and\nlet 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 as\nhe 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 another\ninstance, where she made them the instruments of revenge. Pelias,\nour readers will recollect, was the usurping uncle of Jason, and\nhad kept him out of his kingdom. Yet he must have had some good\nqualities, for his daughters loved him, and when they saw what\nMedea had done for Aeson, they wished her to do the same for their\nfather. Medea pretended to consent, and prepared her caldron as\nbefore. At her request an old sheep was brought and plunged into\nthe caldron. Very soon a bleating was heard in the kettle, and\nwhen the cover was removed, a lamb jumped forth and ran frisking\naway into the meadow. The daughters of Pelias saw the experiment\nwith delight, and appointed a time for their father to undergo the\nsame operation. But Medea prepared her caldron for him in a very\ndifferent way. She put in only water and a few simple herbs. In\nthe night she with the sisters entered the bed chamber of the old\nking, while he and his guards slept soundly under the influence of\na spell cast upon them by Medea. The daughters stood by the\nbedside with their weapons drawn, but hesitated to strike, till\nMedea chid their irresolution. Then turning away their faces, and\ngiving random blows, they smote him with their weapons. He,\nstarting from his sleep, cried out, \"My daughters, what are you\ndoing? Will you kill your father?\" Their hearts failed them and\ntheir weapons fell from their hands, but Medea struck him a fatal\nblow, and prevented 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 treachery,\nor their vengeance would have been terrible. She escaped, however,\nbut had little enjoyment of the fruits of her crime. Jason, for\nwhom she had done so much, wishing to marry Creusa, princess of\nCorinth, put away Medea. She, enraged at his ingratitude, called\non the gods for vengeance, sent a poisoned robe as a gift to the\nbride, and then killing her own children, and setting fire to the\npalace, mounted her serpent-drawn chariot and fled to Athens,\nwhere she married King Aegeus, the father of Theseus, and we shall\nmeet her again when we come to the adventures 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,\" etc\n\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 Aeetes\ngaining upon the Argonauts, she caused the lad to be killed and\nhis limbs to be strewn over the sea. Aeetes on reaching the place\nfound these sorrowful traces of his murdered son; but while he\ntarried to collect the scattered fragments and bestow upon them an\nhonorable interment, the Argonauts escaped.\n\nIn the poems of Campbell will be found a translation of one of the\nchoruses of the tragedy of \"Medea,\" where the poet Euripides has\ntaken advantage of the occasion to pay a glowing tribute to\nAthens, his native city. It begins thus:\n\n    \"O 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\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\nMELEAGER AND ATALANTA\n\n\nOne of the heroes of the Argonautic expedition was Meleager, son\nof OEneus and Althea, king and queen of Calydon. Althea, when her\nson was born, beheld the three destinies, who, as they spun their\nfatal thread, foretold that the life of the child should last no\nlonger than a brand then burning upon the hearth. Althea seized\nand quenched the brand, and carefully preserved it for years,\nwhile Meleager grew to boyhood, youth, and manhood. It chanced,\nthen, that OEneus, as he offered sacrifices to the gods, omitted\nto pay due honors to Diana; and she, indignant at the neglect,\nsent a wild boar of enormous size to lay waste the fields of\nCalydon. Its eyes shone with blood and fire, its bristles stood\nlike threatening spears, its tusks were like those of Indian\nelephants. The growing corn was trampled, the vines and olive\ntrees laid waste, the flocks and herds were driven in wild\nconfusion by the slaughtering foe. All common aid seemed vain; but\nMeleager called on the heroes of Greece to join in a bold hunt for\nthe ravenous monster. Theseus and his friend Pirithous, Jason,\nPeleus, afterwards the father of Achilles, Telamon the father of\nAjax, Nestor, then a youth, but who in his age bore arms with\nAchilles and Ajax in the Trojan war,--these and many more joined\nin the enterprise. With them came Atalanta, the daughter of\nIasius, king of Arcadia. A buckle of polished gold confined her\nvest, an ivory quiver hung on her left shoulder, and her left hand\nbore the bow. Her face blent feminine beauty with the best graces\nof martial youth. Meleager saw and loved.\n\nBut now already they were near the monster's lair. They stretched\nstrong nets from tree to tree; they uncoupled their dogs, they\ntried to find the footprints of their quarry in the grass. From\nthe wood was a descent to marshy ground. Here the boar, as he lay\namong the reeds, heard the shouts of his pursuers, and rushed\nforth against them. One and another is thrown down and slain.\nJason throws his spear, with a prayer to Diana for success; and\nthe favoring goddess allows the weapon to touch, but not to wound,\nremoving the steel point of the spear in its flight. Nestor,\nassailed, seeks and finds safety in the branches of a tree.\nTelamon rushes on, but stumbling at a projecting root, falls\nprone. But an arrow from Atalanta at length for the first time\ntastes the monster's blood. It is a slight wound, but Meleager\nsees and joyfully proclaims it. Anceus, excited to envy by the\npraise given to a female, loudly proclaims his own valor, and\ndefies alike the boar and the goddess who had sent it; but as he\nrushes on, the infuriated beast lays him low with a mortal wound.\nTheseus throws his lance, but it is turned aside by a projecting\nbough. The dart of Jason misses its object, and kills instead one\nof their own dogs. But Meleager, after one unsuccessful stroke,\ndrives his spear into the monster's side, then rushes on and\ndespatches him with repeated blows.\n\nThen rose a shout from those around; they congratulated the\nconqueror, crowding to touch his hand. He, placing his foot upon\nthe head of the slain boar, turned to Atalanta and bestowed on her\nthe head and the rough hide which were the trophies of his\nsuccess. But at this, envy excited the rest to strife. Plexippus\nand Toxeus, the brothers of Meleager's mother, 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 bringing\ndestruction on her son. The feelings of the mother and the sister\ncontend within her. Now she is pale at the thought of the proposed\ndeed, now flushed again with anger at the act of her son. As a\nvessel, driven in one direction by the wind, and in the opposite\nby the tide, the mind of Althea hangs suspended in uncertainty.\nBut now the sister prevails above the mother, and she begins as\nshe holds the fatal wood: \"Turn, ye Furies, goddesses of\npunishment! turn to behold the sacrifice I bring! Crime must atone\nfor crime. Shall OEneus rejoice in his victor son, while the house\nof Thestius is desolate? But, alas! to what deed am I borne along?\nBrothers forgive a mother's weakness! my hand fails me. He\ndeserves death, but not that I should destroy him. But shall he\nthen live, and triumph, and reign over Calydon, while you, my\nbrothers, wander unavenged among the shades? No! thou hast lived\nby my gift; die, now, for thine own crime. Return the life which\ntwice I gave thee, first at thy birth, again when I snatched this\nbrand from the flames. O that thou hadst then died! Alas! evil is\nthe conquest; but, brothers, ye have conquered.\" And, turning away\nher face, she threw the fatal wood upon 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 his\nlast breath he calls upon his aged father, his brother, and his\nfond sisters, upon his beloved Atalanta, and upon his mother, the\nunknown cause of his fate. The flames increase, and with them the\npain of the hero. Now both subside; now both are quenched. The\nbrand is ashes, and the life of Meleager is breathed forth to the\nwandering 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\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 imposed\na condition which was generally effectual in relieving her of\ntheir persecutions,--\"I will be the prize of him who shall conquer\nme in the race; but death must be the penalty of all who try and\nfail.\" In spite of this hard condition some would try. Hippomenes\nwas to be judge of the race. \"Can it be possible that any will be\nso rash as to risk so much for a wife?\" said he. But when he saw\nher lay aside her robe for the race, he changed his mind, and\nsaid, \"Pardon me, youths, I knew not the prize you were competing\nfor.\" As he surveyed them he wished them all to be beaten, and\nswelled with envy of any one that seemed at all likely to win.\nWhile such were his thoughts, the virgin darted forward. As she\nran she looked more beautiful than ever. The breezes seemed to\ngive wings to her feet; her hair flew over her shoulders, and the\ngay fringe of her garment fluttered behind her. A ruddy hue tinged\nthe whiteness of her skin, such as a crimson curtain casts on a\nmarble wall. All her competitors were distanced, and were put to\ndeath without mercy. Hippomenes, not daunted by this result,\nfixing his eyes on the virgin, said, \"Why boast of beating those\nlaggards? I offer myself for the contest.\" Atalanta looked at him\nwith a pitying countenance, and hardly knew whether she would\nrather conquer him or not. \"What god can tempt one so young and\nhandsome to throw himself away? I pity him, not for his beauty\n(yet he is beautiful), but for his youth. I wish he would give up\nthe race, or if he will be so mad, I hope he may outrun me.\" While\nshe hesitates, revolving these thoughts, the spectators grow\nimpatient for the race, and her father prompts her to prepare.\nThen Hippomenes addressed a prayer to Venus: \"Help me, Venus, for\nyou have led me on.\" Venus heard 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 she gathered three golden apples, and, unseen by any one\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 Hippomenes,--\"Now,\nnow, do your best! haste, haste! you gain on her! relax not! one\nmore effort!\" It was doubtful whether the youth or the maiden\nheard these cries with the greater pleasure. But his breath began\nto fail him, his throat was dry, the goal yet far off. At that\nmoment he threw down one of the golden apples. The virgin was all\namazement. She stopped to pick it up. Hippomenes shot ahead.\nShouts burst forth from all sides. She redoubled her efforts, and\nsoon overtook him. Again he threw an apple. She stopped again, but\nagain came up with him. The goal was near; one chance only\nremained. \"Now, goddess,\" said he, \"prosper your gift!\" and threw\nthe last apple off at one side. She looked at it, and hesitated;\nVenus impelled her to turn aside for it. She did so, and was\nvanquished. The youth carried off his 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. That\npowerful goddess was not to be insulted with impunity. She took\nfrom 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 car, where 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 works\nof art she exhibits the matronly air which distinguishes Juno and\nCeres. Sometimes she is veiled, and seated on a throne with lions\nat her side, at other times riding in a chariot drawn by lions.\nShe wears a mural crown, that is, a crown whose rim is carved in\nthe form of towers and battlements. Her priests were called\nCorybantes.\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\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\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\nHERCULES--HEBE AND GANYMEDE\n\nHERCULES\n\n\nHercules was the son of Jupiter and Alcmena. As Juno was always\nhostile to the offspring of her husband by mortal mothers, she\ndeclared war against Hercules from his birth. She sent two\nserpents to destroy him as he lay in his cradle, but the\nprecocious infant strangled them with his own hands. He was,\nhowever, by the arts of Juno rendered subject to Eurystheus and\ncompelled to perform all his commands. Eurystheus enjoined upon\nhim a succession of desperate adventures, which are called the\n\"Twelve Labors of Hercules.\" The first was the fight with the\nNemean lion. The valley of Nemea was infested by a terrible lion.\nEurystheus ordered Hercules to bring him the skin of this monster.\nAfter using in vain his club and arrows against the lion, Hercules\nstrangled the animal with his hands. He returned carrying the dead\nlion on his shoulders; but Eurystheus was so frightened at the\nsight of it and at this proof of the prodigious strength of the\nhero, that he ordered him to deliver the account of his exploits\nin future outside the town.\n\nHis next labor was the slaughter of the Hydra. This monster\nravaged the country of Argos, and dwelt in a swamp near the well\nof Amymone. This well had been discovered by Amymone when the\ncountry was suffering from drought, and the story was that\nNeptune, who loved her, had permitted her to touch the rock with\nhis trident, and a spring of three outlets burst forth. Here the\nHydra took up his position, and Hercules was sent to destroy him.\nThe Hydra had nine heads, of which the middle one was immortal.\nHercules struck off its heads with his club, but in the place of\nthe head knocked off, two new ones grew forth each time. At length\nwith the assistance of his faithful servant Iolaus, he burned away\nthe heads of the Hydra, and buried the ninth or immortal one under\na huge rock.\n\nAnother labor was the cleaning of the Augean stables. Augeas, king\nof Elis, had a herd of three thousand oxen, whose stalls had not\nbeen 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 a\nnumber of volunteers, and after various adventures at last reached\nthe country of the Amazons. Hippolyta, the queen, received him\nkindly, and consented to yield him her girdle, but Juno, taking\nthe form of an Amazon, went and persuaded the rest that the\nstrangers were carrying off their queen. They instantly armed and\ncame in great numbers down to the ship. Hercules, thinking that\nHippolyta had acted treacherously, slew her, and taking her girdle\nmade sail homewards.\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 apply\nto Spain, of which Geryon was king. After traversing various\ncountries, Hercules reached at length the frontiers of Libya and\nEurope, where he raised the two mountains of Calpe and Abyla, as\nmonuments of his progress, or, according to another account, rent\none mountain into two and left half on each side, forming the\nstraits of Gibraltar, the two mountains being called the Pillars\nof Hercules. The oxen were guarded by the giant Eurytion and his\ntwo-headed dog, but Hercules killed the giant and his dog and\nbrought away the oxen in safety to Eurystheus.\n\nThe most difficult labor of all was getting 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 Hesperus, 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 the\ngods, and after they were subdued, Atlas was condemned to bear on\nhis shoulders the weight of the heavens. He was the father of the\nHesperides, and Hercules thought might, if any one could, find the\napples and bring them to him. But how to send Atlas away from his\npost, or bear up the heavens while he was gone? Hercules took the\nburden on his own shoulders, and sent Atlas to seek the apples. He\nreturned with them, and though somewhat reluctantly, took his\nburden upon his shoulders again, and let Hercules return with the\napples to Eurystheus.\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 Erythea, on which the bright oxen of Geryon were\npastured, and the Isle of the Hesperides. The apples are supposed\nby some to be the oranges of Spain, of which the Greeks had heard\nsome 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 came\nto his country to wrestle with him, on condition that if conquered\n(as they all were) they should be put to death. Hercules\nencountered him, and finding that it was of no avail to throw him,\nfor he always rose with renewed strength from every fall, he\nlifted him up from the earth and strangled him in the air.\n\nCacus was a huge giant, who inhabited a cave on Mount Aventine,\nand plundered the surrounding country. When Hercules was driving\nhome the oxen of Geryon, Cacus stole part of the cattle, while the\nhero slept. That their footprints might not serve to show where\nthey had been driven, he dragged them backward by their tails to\nhis cave; so their tracks all seemed to show that they had gone in\nthe opposite direction. Hercules was deceived by this stratagem,\nand would have failed to find his oxen, if it had not happened\nthat in driving the remainder of the herd past the cave where the\nstolen ones were concealed, those within began to low, and were\nthus discovered. 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 Mercury\nand Minerva. He obtained permission from Pluto to carry Cerberus\nto the upper air, provided he could do it without the use of\nweapons; and in spite of the monster's struggling, he seized him,\nheld him fast, and carried him to Eurystheus, and afterwards\nbrought him back again. When he was in Hades he obtained the\nliberty of Theseus, his admirer and imitator, who had been\ndetained a prisoner there for an unsuccessful attempt to carry off\nProserpine.\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 hand-maidens 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 river,\nacross which the Centaur Nessus carried travellers for a stated\nfee. Hercules himself forded the river, but gave Dejanira to\nNessus to be carried across. Nessus attempted to run away with\nher, but Hercules heard her cries and shot an arrow into the heart\nof Nessus. The dying Centaur told Dejanira to take a portion of\nhis blood and keep it, as it might be used as a charm to preserve\nthe 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 gods\nin honor of his victory, he sent to his wife for a white robe to\nuse on the occasion. Dejanira, thinking it a good opportunity to\ntry her love-spell, steeped the garment in the blood of Nessus. We\nare to suppose she took care to wash out all traces of it, but the\nmagic power remained, and as soon as the garment became warm on\nthe body of Hercules the poison penetrated into all his limbs and\ncaused him the most intense agony. In his frenzy he seized Lichas,\nwho had brought him the fatal robe, and hurled him into the sea.\nHe wrenched off the garment, but it stuck to his flesh, and with\nit he tore away whole pieces of his body. In this state he\nembarked on board a ship and was conveyed home. Dejanira, on\nseeing what she had unwittingly done, hung herself. Hercules,\nprepared to die, ascended Mount Oeta, where he built a funeral\npile of trees, gave his bow and arrows to Philoctetes, and laid\nhimself down on the pile, his head resting on his club, and his\nlion's skin spread over him. With a countenance as serene as if he\nwere taking his place at a festal board he commanded Philoctetes\nto apply the torch. The flames spread apace and soon invested the\nwhole mass.\n\nMilton thus alludes to the frenzy of Hercules:\n\n   \"As when Alcides, 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\n[Footnote: Alcides, a name of Hercules.]\n\nThe gods themselves felt troubled at seeing the champion of the\nearth so brought to his end. But Jupiter with cheerful countenance\nthus addressed them: \"I am pleased to see your concern, my\nprinces, and am gratified to perceive that I am the ruler of a\nloyal people, and that my son enjoys your favor. For although your\ninterest in him arises from his noble deeds, yet it is not the\nless gratifying to me. But now I say to you, Fear not. He who\nconquered all else is not to be conquered by those flames which\nyou see blazing on Mount Oeta. Only his mother's share in him can\nperish; what he derived from me is immortal. I shall take him,\ndead to earth, to the heavenly shores, and I require of you all to\nreceive him kindly. If any of you feel grieved at his attaining\nthis honor, yet no one can deny that he has deserved it.\" The gods\nall gave their assent; Juno only heard the closing words with some\ndispleasure that she should be so particularly pointed at, yet not\nenough to make her regret the determination of her husband. So\nwhen the flames had consumed the mother's share of Hercules, the\ndiviner part, instead of being injured thereby, seemed to start\nforth with new vigor, to assume a more lofty port and a more awful\ndignity. Jupiter enveloped him in a cloud, and took him up in a\nfour-horse chariot to dwell among the stars. As he took his place\nin heaven, Atlas felt 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\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\n    --S. G. B.\n\nHEBE AND GANYMEDE\n\nHebe, the daughter of Juno, and goddess of youth, was cup-bearer\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 Athenaeum gallery.\nAccording to this, Hebe was dismissed from her office in\nconsequence 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 heaven,\nand 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.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX\n\nTHESEUS--DAEDALUS--CASTOR AND POLLUX\n\nTHESEUS\n\n\nTheseus was the son of Aegeus, king of Athens, and of Aethra,\ndaughter of the king of Troezen. He was brought up at Troezen, and\nwhen arrived at manhood was to proceed to Athens and present\nhimself to his father. Aegeus on parting from Aethra, before the\nbirth of his son, placed his sword and shoes under a large stone\nand directed her to send his son to him when he became strong\nenough to roll away the stone and take them from under it. When\nshe thought the time had come, his mother led Theseus to the\nstone, and he removed it with ease and took the sword and shoes.\nAs the roads were infested with robbers, his grandfather pressed\nhim earnestly to take the shorter and safer way to his father's\ncountry--by sea; but the youth, feeling in himself the spirit and\nthe soul of a hero, and eager to signalize himself like Hercules,\nwith whose fame all Greece then rang, by destroying the evil-doers\nand monsters that oppressed the country, determined on the more\nperilous and adventurous journey by 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 in\nterror of his violence. When he saw Theseus approach he assailed\nhim, but speedily fell beneath the blows of the young hero, who\ntook possession of his club and bore it ever afterwards as a\nmemorial 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. One\nof these evil-doers was called Procrustes, or the Stretcher. He\nhad an iron bedstead, on which he used to tie all travellers who\nfell 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 arts,\nfled once more from deserved punishment, and arrived in Asia,\nwhere the country afterwards called Media received its name from\nher, Theseus was acknowledged by his father, and declared his\nsuccessor.\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 Crete.\nThis tribute consisted of seven youths and seven maidens, who were\nsent every year to be devoured by the Minotaur, a monster with a\nbull's body and a human head. It was exceedingly strong and\nfierce, and was kept in a labyrinth constructed by Daedalus, so\nartfully contrived that whoever was enclosed in it could by no\nmeans, find his way out unassisted. Here the Minotaur roamed, and\nwas 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. [Footnote: One of\nthe finest pieces of sculpture in Italy, the recumbent Ariadne of\nthe Vatican, represents this incident. A copy is owned by the\nAthenaeum, Boston, and deposited, in the Museum of Fine Arts.] His\nexcuse for this ungrateful treatment of his benefactress was that\nMinerva appeared to him in a dream and commanded him to do so.\n\nOn approaching the coast of Attica, Theseus forgot the signal\nappointed by his father, and neglected to raise the white sails,\nand the old king, thinking his son had perished, put an end to his\nown 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 queen\nAntiope. The Amazons in their turn invaded the country of Athens\nand penetrated into the city itself; and the final battle in which\nTheseus overcame them was fought in the very midst of the city.\nThis battle was one of the favorite subjects of the ancient\nsculptors, and is commemorated in several works of art that are\nstill extant.\n\nThe friendship between Theseus and Pirithous was of a most\nintimate nature, yet it originated in the midst of arms. Pirithous\nhad made an irruption into the plain of Marathon, and carried off\nthe herds of the king of Athens. Theseus went to repel the\nplunderers. The moment Pirithous beheld him, he was seized with\nadmiration; he stretched out his hand as a token of peace, and\ncried, \"Be judge thyself--what satisfaction dost thou require?\"\n\"Thy friendship,\" replied the Athenian, and they swore inviolable\nfidelity. Their deeds corresponded to their professions, and they\never continued true brothers in arms. Each of them aspired to\nespouse a daughter of Jupiter. Theseus fixed his choice on Helen,\nthen but a child, afterwards so celebrated as the cause of the\nTrojan war, and with the aid of his friend he carried her off.\nPirithous aspired to the wife of the monarch of Erebus; and\nTheseus, though aware of the danger, accompanied the ambitious\nlover in his descent to the under-world. But Pluto seized and set\nthem on an enchanted rock at his palace gate, where they remained\ntill Hercules arrived and liberated Theseus, leaving Pirithous to\nhis 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, but\nhe repulsed her advances, and her love was changed to hate. She\nused her influence over her infatuated husband to cause him to be\njealous of his son, and he imprecated the vengeance of Neptune\nupon him. As Hippolytus was one day driving his chariot along the\nshore, a sea-monster raised himself above the waters, and\nfrightened the horses so that they ran away and dashed the chariot\nto pieces. Hippolytus was killed, but by Diana's assistance\nAesculapius restored him to life. Diana removed Hippolytus from\nthe power of his deluded father and false stepmother, and placed\nhim in Italy under the protection of the nymph Egeria.\n\nTheseus at length lost the favor of his people, and retired to the\ncourt of Lycomedes, king of Scyros, who at first received him\nkindly, but afterwards treacherously slew him. In a later age the\nAthenian general Cimon discovered the place where his remains were\nlaid, and caused them to be removed to Athens, where they were\ndeposited in a temple called the Theseum, erected in honor of the\nhero.\n\nThe queen of the Amazons whom Theseus espoused is by some called\nHippolyta. That is the name she bears in Shakspeare's \"Midsummer\nNight's Dream,\"--the subject of which is the festivities attending\nthe 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\nTheseus is a semi-historical personage. It is recorded of him that\nhe united the several tribes by whom the territory of Attica was\nthen possessed into one state, of which Athens was the capital. In\ncommemoration of this important event, he instituted the festival\nof Panathenaea, in honor of Minerva, the patron deity of Athens.\nThis festival differed from the other Grecian games chiefly in two\nparticulars. It was peculiar to the Athenians, and its chief\nfeature was a solemn procession in which the Peplus, or sacred\nrobe of Minerva, was carried to the Parthenon, and suspended\nbefore the statue of the goddess. The Peplus was covered with\nembroidery, worked by select virgins of the noblest families in\nAthens. The procession consisted of persons of all ages and both\nsexes. The old men carried olive branches in their hands, and the\nyoung men bore arms. The young women carried baskets on their\nheads, containing the sacred utensils, cakes, and all things\nnecessary for the sacrifices. The procession formed the subject of\nthe bas-reliefs which embellished the outside of the temple of the\nParthenon. A considerable portion of these sculptures is now in\nthe British Museum among those known as the \"Elgin marbles.\"\n\nOLYMPIC AND OTHER GAMES\n\nIt seems not inappropriate to mention here the other celebrated\nnational games of the Greeks. The first and most distinguished\nwere the Olympic, founded, it was said, by Jupiter himself. They\nwere celebrated at Olympia in Elis. Vast numbers of spectators\nflocked to them from every part of Greece, and from Asia, Africa,\nand Sicily. They were repeated every fifth year in mid-summer,\nand continued five days. They gave rise to the custom of reckoning\ntime and dating events by Olympiads. The first Olympiad is\ngenerally considered as corresponding with the year 776 B.C. The\nPythian games were celebrated in the vicinity of Delphi, the\nIsthmian on the Corinthian isthmus, the Nemean at Nemea, a city of\nArgolis.\n\nThe exercises in these games were of five sorts: running, leaping,\nwrestling, throwing the quoit, and hurling the javelin, or boxing.\nBesides these exercises of bodily strength and agility, there were\ncontests in music, poetry, and eloquence. Thus these games\nfurnished poets, musicians, and authors the best opportunities to\npresent their productions to the public, and the fame of the\nvictors was diffused far and wide.\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 an\nedifice with numberless winding passages and turnings opening into\none another, and seeming to have neither beginning nor end, like\nthe river Maeander, which returns on itself, and flows now onward,\nnow backward, in its course to the sea. Daedalus built the\nlabyrinth for King Minos, but afterwards lost the favor of the\nking, and was shut up in a tower. He contrived to make his escape\nfrom his prison, but could not leave the island by sea, as the\nking kept strict watch on all the vessels, and permitted none to\nsail without being carefully searched. \"Minos may control the land\nand sea,\" said Daedalus, \"but not the regions of the air. I will\ntry that way.\" So he set to work to fabricate wings for himself\nand his young son Icarus. He wrought feathers together, beginning\nwith the smallest and adding larger, so as to form an increasing\nsurface. The larger ones he secured with thread and the smaller\nwith wax, and gave the whole a gentle curvature like the wings of\na bird. Icarus, the boy, stood and looked on, sometimes running to\ngather up the feathers which the wind had blown away, and then\nhandling the wax and working it over with his fingers, by his play\nimpeding his father in his labors. When at last the work was done,\nthe artist, waving his wings, found himself buoyed upward, and\nhung suspended, poising himself on the beaten air. He next\nequipped his son in the same manner, and taught him how to fly, as\na bird tempts her young ones from the lofty nest into the air.\nWhen all was prepared for flight he said, \"Icarus, my son, I\ncharge you to keep at a moderate height, for if you fly too low\nthe damp will clog your wings, and if too high the heat will melt\nthem. Keep near me and you will be safe.\" While he gave him these\ninstructions and fitted the wings to his shoulders, the face of\nthe father was wet with tears, and his hands trembled. He kissed\nthe boy, not knowing that it was for the last time. Then rising on\nhis wings, he flew off, encouraging him to follow, and looked back\nfrom his own flight to see how his son managed his wings. As they\nflew the ploughman stopped his work to gaze, and the shepherd\nleaned on his staff and watched them, astonished at the sight, and\nthinking they were gods 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 arms,\nbut no feathers remained to hold the air. While his mouth uttered\ncries to his father it was submerged in the blue waters of the\nsea, which thenceforth was called by his name. His father cried,\n\"Icarus, Icarus, where are you?\" At last he saw the feathers\nfloating on the water, and bitterly lamenting his own arts, he\nburied the body and called the land Icaria in memory of his child.\nDaedalus arrived safe in Sicily, where he built a temple to\nApollo, 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 scholar\nand gave striking evidences of ingenuity. Walking on the seashore\nhe picked up the spine of a fish. Imitating it, he took a piece of\niron and notched it on the edge, and thus invented the SAW. He put\ntwo pieces of iron together, connecting them at one end with a\nrivet, and sharpening the other ends, and made a PAIR OF\nCOMPASSES. Daedalus was so envious of his nepnew's performances\nthat he took an opportunity, when they were together one day on\nthe top of a high tower, to push him off. But Minerva, who favors\ningenuity, saw him falling, and arrested his fate by changing him\ninto a bird called after his name, the Partridge. This bird does\nnot build his nest in the trees, nor take lofty flights, but\nnestles in the hedges, and mindful of his fall, avoids high\nplaces.\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\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 as\nthe 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, hastened 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 to\nbe considered the patron deities of seamen and voyagers, and the\nlambent flames, which in certain states of the atmosphere play\nround the sails and masts of vessels, were called by their names.\n\nAfter the Argonautic expedition, we find Castor and Pollux engaged\nin a war with Idas and Lynceus. Castor was slain, and Pollux,\ninconsolable for the loss of his brother, besought Jupiter to be\npermitted to give his own life as a ransom for him. Jupiter so far\nconsented as to allow the two brothers to enjoy the boon of life\nalternately, passing one day under the earth and the next in the\nheavenly abodes. According to another form of the story, Jupiter\nrewarded the attachment of the brothers by placing them among the\nstars 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 they\nare 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    \"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\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI\n\nBACCHUS--ARIADNE\n\nBACCHUS\n\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 a\nsigh, 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 he\nis indeed Jove, make him give some proof of it. Ask him to come\narrayed in all his splendors, such as he wears in heaven. That\nwill put the matter beyond a doubt.\" Semele was persuaded to try\nthe experiment. She asks a favor, without naming what it is. Jove\ngives his promise, and confirms it with the irrevocable oath,\nattesting the river Styx, terrible to the gods themselves. Then\nshe made known her request. The god would have stopped her as she\nspake, but she was too quick for him. The words escaped, and he\ncould neither unsay his promise nor her request. In deep distress\nhe left her and returned to the upper regions. There he clothed\nhimself in his splendors, not putting on all his terrors, as when\nhe overthrew the giants, but what is known among the gods as his\nlesser panoply. Arrayed in this, he entered the chamber of Semele.\nHer mortal frame could not endure the splendors of the immortal\nradiance. She was consumed to ashes.\n\nJove took the infant Bacchus and gave him in charge to the Nysaean\nnymphs, who nourished his infancy and childhood, and for their\ncare were rewarded by Jupiter by being placed, as the Hyades,\namong the stars. When Bacchus grew up he discovered the culture of\nthe vine and the mode of extracting its precious juice; but Juno\nstruck him with madness, and drove him forth a wanderer through\nvarious parts of the earth. In Phrygia the goddess Rhea cured him\nand taught him her religious rites, and he set out on a progress\nthrough Asia, teaching the people the cultivation of the vine. The\nmost famous part of his wanderings is his expedition to India,\nwhich is said to have lasted several years. Returning in triumph,\nhe undertook to introduce his worship into Greece, but was opposed\nby some princes, who dreaded its introduction on account of the\ndisorders and madness it brought 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 of 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\ncounsellors 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, beholding\nhim with wrathful countenance, said, \"Fellow! you shall speedily\nbe put to death, that your fate may be a warning to others; but\nthough I grudge the delay of your punishment, speak, tell us who\nyou are, and what are these new rites you presume to celebrate.\"\n\nThe prisoner, unterrified, responded, \"My name is Acetes; my\ncountry is Maeonia; my parents were poor people, who had no fields\nor flocks to leave me, but they left me their fishing rods and\nnets and their fisherman's trade. This I followed for some time,\ntill 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 noble\nyouth, perhaps a king's son, and they might get a liberal ransom\nfor him. I observed his dress, his walk, his face. There was\nsomething in them which I felt sure was more than mortal. I said\nto my men, 'What god there is concealed in that form I know not,\nbut some one there certainly is. Pardon us, gentle deity, for the\nviolence we have done you, and give success to our undertakings.'\nDictys, one of my best hands for climbing the mast and coming down\nby the ropes, and Melanthus, my steersman, and Epopeus, the leader\nof the sailor's cry, one and all exclaimed, 'Spare your prayers\nfor us.' So blind is the lust of gain! When they proceeded to put\nhim on board I resisted them. 'This ship shall not be profaned by\nsuch impiety,' said I. 'I have a greater share in her than any of\nyou.' But Lycabas, a turbulent fellow, seized me by the throat and\nattempted to throw me overboard, and I scarcely saved myself by\nclinging to the ropes. 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 carry\nme?' One of them replied, 'Fear nothing; tell us where you wish to\ngo and we will take you there.' 'Naxos is my home,' said Bacchus;\n'take me there and you shall be well rewarded.' They promised so\nto do, and told me to pilot the ship to Naxos. Naxos lay to the\nright, and I was trimming the sails to carry us there, when some\nby signs and others by whispers signified to me their will that I\nshould sail in the opposite direction, and take the boy to Egypt\nto sell him for a slave. I was confounded and said, 'Let some one\nelse pilot the ship;' withdrawing myself from any further agency\nin their wickedness. They cursed me, and one of them, exclaiming,\n'Don't flatter yourself that we depend on you for our safety;'\ntook any place as pilot, and bore away from Naxos.\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 weeping,\n'Sailors, these are not the shores you promised to take me to;\nyonder island is not my home. What have I done that you should\ntreat me so? It is small glory you will gain by cheating a poor\nboy.' I wept to hear him, but the crew laughed at both of us, and\nsped the vessel fast over the sea. All at once--strange as it may\nseem, it is true,--the vessel stopped, in the mid sea, as fast as\nif it was fixed on the ground. The men, astonished, pulled at\ntheir oars, and spread more sail, trying to make progress by the\naid of both, but all in vain. Ivy twined round the oars and\nhindered their motion, and clung to the sails, with heavy clusters\nof berries. A vine, laden with grapes, ran up the mast, and along\nthe sides of the vessel. The sound of flutes was heard and the\nodor of fragrant wine spread all around. The god himself had a\nchaplet of vine leaves, and bore in his hand a spear wreathed with\nivy. Tigers crouched at his feet, and forms of lynxes and spotted\npanthers played around him. The men were seized with terror or\nmadness; some leaped overboard; others preparing to do the same\nbeheld their companions in the water undergoing a change, their\nbodies becoming flattened and ending in a crooked tail. One\nexclaimed, 'What miracle is this!' and as he spoke his mouth\nwidened, his nostrils expanded, and scales covered all his body.\nAnother, endeavoring to pull the oar, felt his hands shrink up and\npresently to be no longer hands but fins; another, trying to raise\nhis arms to a rope, found he had no arms, and curving his\nmutilated body, jumped into the sea. What had been his legs became\nthe two ends of a crescent-shaped tail. The whole crew became\ndolphins and swam about the ship, now upon the surface, now under\nit, scattering the spray, and spouting the water from their broad\nnostrils. Of twenty men I alone was left. Trembling with fear, the\ngod cheered me. 'Fear not,' said he; 'steer towards Naxos.' I\nobeyed, and when we arrived there, I kindled the altars and\ncelebrated the sacred rites of Bacchus.\"\n\nPentheus here exclaimed, \"We have wasted time enough on this silly\nstory. Take him away and have him executed without delay.\" Acetes\nwas led away by the attendants and shut up fast in prison; but\nwhile they were getting ready the instruments of execution the\nprison doors came open of their own accord and the chains fell\nfrom his limbs, and when they looked for him he was nowhere to be\nfound.\n\nPentheus would take no warning, but instead of sending others,\ndetermined to go himself to the scene of the solemnities. The\nmountain Citheron was all alive with worshippers, and the cries of\nthe Bacchanals resounded on every side. The noise roused the anger\nof Pentheus as the sound of a trumpet does the fire of a war-\nhorse. He penetrated through the wood and reached an open space\nwhere the chief 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! I\nwill be the first to strike the wild boar.\" The whole band rushed\nupon him, and while he now talks less arrogantly, now excuses\nhimself, and now confesses his crime and implores pardon, they\npress upon him 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 ours!\"\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\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIX.\n\n    \"Bacchus that first from out the purple grapes\n     Crushed the sweet poison of misused wine,\n     After the Tuscan manners 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\nARIADNE\n\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 the ungrateful Theseus pursued his way home without\nher. Ariadne, on waking and finding herself deserted, abandoned\nherself to grief. But Venus took pity on her, and consoled her\nwith the promise that she should have an immortal lover, instead\nof the mortal 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 him.\nAs Ariadne sat lamenting her fate, Bacchus found her, consoled\nher, and made her his wife. As a marriage present he gave her a\ngolden crown, enriched with gems, and when she died, he took her\ncrown and threw it up into the sky. As it mounted the gems grew\nbrighter and were turned into stars, and preserving its form\nAriadne's crown remains fixed in the heavens as a constellation,\nbetween the 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, and\nnot 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    Then 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\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII\n\nTHE RURAL DEITIES--ERISICHTHON--RHOECUS--THE WATER DEITIES--\nCAMENAE--WINDS\n\nTHE RURAL DEITIES\n\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. He\nwas 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 by\nthose whose occupations caused them to pass through the woods by\nnight, 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 ALL, Pan came to be considered a\nsymbol of the universe and personification of Nature; and later\nstill to be regarded as a representative of all the gods and of\nheathenism itself.\n\nSylvanus and Faunus were Latin divinities, whose characteristics\nare so nearly the same as those of Pan that we may safely consider\nthem as the same personage under different names.\n\nThe wood-nymphs, Pan's partners in the dance, were but one class\nof nymphs. There were beside them the Naiads, who presided over\nbrooks and fountains, the Oreads, nymphs of mountains and grottos,\nand the Nereids, sea-nymphs. The three last named were immortal,\nbut the wood-nymphs, called Dryads or Hamadryads, were believed to\nperish with the trees which had been their abode and with which\nthey had come into existence. It was therefore an impious act\nwantonly to destroy a tree, and in some aggravated cases were\nseverely punished, as in the instance of Erisichthon, which we are\nabout to 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\n    --Paradise Lost, B. IV.\n\nIt was a pleasing trait in the old Paganism that it loved to trace\nin every operation of nature the agency of deity. The imagination\nof the Greeks peopled all the regions of earth and sea with\ndivinities, to whose agency it attributed those phenomena which\nour philosophy ascribes to the operation of the laws of nature.\nSometimes in our poetical moods we feel disposed to regret the\nchange, and to think that the heart has lost as much as the head\nhas gained by the substitution. The poet Wordsworth thus strongly\nexpresses 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 the sea,\n     And hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.\"\n\nSchiller, in his poem \"Die Gotter Griechenlands,\" expresses his\nregret for the overthrow of the beautiful mythology of ancient\ntimes in a way which has called forth an answer from a Christian\npoet, Mrs. E. Barrett Browning, in her poem called \"The Dead Pan.\"\nThe two following 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 cold\nand darkness. So Milton in his \"Hymn on 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\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 to\nCeres. There stood in this grove a venerable oak so large that it\nseemed a wood in itself, its ancient trunk towering aloft, whereon\nvotive garlands were often hung and inscriptions carved expressing\nthe gratitude of suppliants to the nymph of the tree. Often had\nthe Dryads danced round it hand in hand. Its trunk measured\nfifteen cubits round, and it overtopped the other trees as they\novertopped the shrubbery. But for all that, Erisichthon saw no\nreason why he should spare it and he ordered his servants to cut\nit down. When he saw them hesitate he snatched an axe from one,\nand thus impiously exclaimed: \"I care not whether it be a tree\nbeloved of the goddess or not; were it the goddess herself it\nshould come down if it stood in my way.\" So saying, he lifted the\naxe and the oak seemed to shudder and utter a groan. When the\nfirst blow fell upon the trunk blood flowed from the wound. All\nthe bystanders were horror-struck, and one of them ventured to\nremonstrate and hold back the fatal axe. Erisichthon, with a\nscornful look, said to him, \"Receive the reward of your piety;\"\nand turned against him the weapon which he had held aside from the\ntree, gashed his body with many wounds, and cut off his head. Then\nfrom the midst of the oak came a voice, \"I who dwell in this tree\nam a nymph beloved of Ceres, and dying by your hands forewarn you\nthat punishment awaits you.\" He desisted not from his crime, and\nat last the tree, sundered by repeated blows and drawn by ropes,\nfell with a crash and prostrated a great part of the grove in its\nfall.\n\nThe Dryads in dismay at the loss of their companion and at seeing\nthe pride of the forest laid low, went in a body to Ceres, all\nclad in garments of mourning, and invoked punishment upon\nErisichthon. She nodded her assent, and as she bowed her head the\ngrain ripe for harvest in the laden fields bowed also. She planned\na punishment so dire that one would pity him, if such a culprit as\nhe could be pitied,--to deliver him over to Famine. As Ceres\nherself could not approach Famine, for the Fates have ordained\nthat these two goddesses shall never come together, she called an\nOread from her mountain and spoke to her in these words: \"There is\na place in the farthest part of ice-clad Scythia, a sad and\nsterile region without trees and without crops. Cold dwells there,\nand Fear and Shuddering, and Famine. Go and tell the last to take\npossession of the bowels of Erisichthon. Let not abundance subdue\nher, nor the power of my gifts drive her away. Be not alarmed at\nthe distance\" (for Famine dwells very far from Ceres), \"but take\nmy chariot. The dragons are fleet and obey the rein, and will take\nyou through the air in a short time.\" So she gave her the reins,\nand she drove 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 not\ndare 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\nFamine obeyed the commands of Ceres and sped through the air to\nthe dwelling of Erisichthon, entered the bedchamber of the guilty\nman, and found him asleep. She enfolded him with her wings and\nbreathed herself into him, infusing her poison into his veins.\nHaving discharged her task, she hastened to leave the land of\nplenty and returned to her accustomed haunts. Erisichthon still\nslept, and in his dreams craved food, and moved his jaws as if\neating. When he awoke, his hunger was raging. Without a moment's\ndelay he would have food set before him, of whatever kind earth\nsea, or air produces; and complained of hunger even while he ate.\nWhat would have sufficed for a city or a nation, was not enough\nfor him. The more he ate the more he craved. His hunger was like\nthe sea, which receives all the rivers, yet is never filled; or\nlike fire, that burns all the fuel that is heaped upon it, yet is\nstill voracious for more.\n\nHis property rapidly diminished under the unceasing demands of his\nappetite, but his hunger continued unabated. At length he had\nspent all and had only his daughter left, a daughter worthy of a\nbetter parent. Her too he sold. She scorned to be the slave of a\npurchaser and as she stood by the seaside raised her hands in\nprayer to Neptune. He heard her prayer, and though her new master\nwas not far off and had his eye upon her a moment before, Neptune\nchanged her form and made her assume that of a fisherman busy at\nhis occupation. Her master, looking for her and seeing her in her\naltered form, addressed her and said, \"Good fisherman, whither\nwent the maiden whom I saw just now, with hair dishevelled and in\nhumble garb, standing about where you stand? Tell me truly; so may\nyour luck be good and not a fish nibble at your hook and get\naway.\" She perceived that her prayer was answered and rejoiced\ninwardly at hearing herself inquired of about herself. She\nreplied, \"Pardon me, stranger, but I have been so intent upon my\nline that I have seen nothing else; but I wish I may never catch\nanother fish if I believe any woman or other person except myself\nto have been hereabouts for some time.\" He was deceived and went\nhis way, thinking his slave had escaped. Then she resumed her own\nform. Her father was well pleased to find her still with him, and\nthe money too that he got by the sale of her; so he sold her\nagain. But she was changed by the favor of Neptune as often as she\nwas sold, now into a horse, now a bird, now an ox, and now a\nstag,--got away from her purchasers and came home. By this base\nmethod the starving father procured food; but not enough for his\nwants, and at last hunger compelled him to devour his limbs, and\nhe strove to nourish his body by eating his body, till death\nrelieved him from the vengeance of Ceres.\n\nRHOECUS\n\nThe Hamadryads could appreciate services as well as punish\ninjuries. The story of Rhoecus proves this. Rhoecus, happening to\nsee an oak just ready to fall, ordered his servants to prop it up.\nThe nymph, who had been on the point of perishing with the tree,\ncame and expressed her gratitude to him for having saved her life\nand bade him ask what reward he would. Rhoecus boldly asked her\nlove and the nymph yielded to his desire. She at the same time\ncharged him to be constant and told him that a bee should be her\nmessenger and let him know when she would admit his society. One\ntime the bee came to Rhoecus when he was playing at draughts and\nhe carelessly brushed it away. This so incensed the nymph that she\ndeprived him of sight.\n\nOur countryman, J. R. Lowell, has taken this story for the subject\nof 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\nTHE WATER DEITIES\n\nOceanus and Tethys were the Titans who ruled over the watery\nelement. When Jove and his brothers overthrew the Titans and\nassumed their power, Neptune and Amphitrite succeeded to the\ndominion of the waters in place of Oceanus and Tethys.\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 patron\nof horse races. His own horses had brazen hoofs and golden manes.\nThey drew his chariot over the sea, which became smooth before\nhim, while the monsters of the deep gambolled about his path.\n\nAMPHITRITE\n\nAmphitrite was the wife of Neptune. She was the daughter of Nereus\nand Doris, and the mother of Triton. Neptune, to pay his court to\nAmphitrite, came riding on a dolphin. Having won her he rewarded\nthe dolphin by placing him among the stars.\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, whence he was termed an elder; the gift of prophecy\nwas also assigned to him.\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. He,\nlike Nereus, is styled a sea-elder for his wisdom and knowledge of\nfuture events. His peculiar power was that of changing his shape\nat will.\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 grow\ngreater than his father, Jupiter desisted from his suit and\ndecreed that Thetis should be the wife of a mortal. By the aid of\nChiron the Centaur, Peleus succeeded in winning the goddess for\nhis bride and their son was the renowned Achilles. In our chapter\non the Trojan war it will appear that Thetis was a faithful mother\nto him, aiding him in all difficulties, and watching over his\ninterests from the first to the last.\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, sprang\nfrom a cliff into the sea. The gods, out of compassion, made her a\ngoddess of the sea, under the name of Leucothea, and him a god,\nunder that of Palaemon. Both were held powerful to save from\nshipwreck and were invoked by sailors. Palaemon was usually\nrepresented riding on a dolphin. The Isthmian games were\ncelebrated in his honor. He was called Portunus by the Romans, and\nbelieved 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, [Footnote: 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;\" etc.\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     O 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\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 shown.\nIt was said that Numa, the second king of Rome, was favored by\nthis nymph with secret interviews, in which she taught him those\nlessons of wisdom and of law which he imbodied in the institutions\nof his rising nation. After the death of Numa the nymph pined away\nand 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;\" etc.\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\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\n\"Paradise 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     Favonius breathe still softer or be chid!\"\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII\n\nACHELOUS AND HERCULES--ADMETUS AND ALCESTIS--ANTIGONE--PENELOPE\n\nACHELOUS AND HERCULES\n\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 of\nhis waters. Having finished his story, he added, \"But why should I\ntell of other persons' transformations when I myself am an\ninstance of the possession of this power? Sometimes I become a\nserpent, and sometimes a bull, with horns on my head. Or I should\nsay I once could do so; but now I have but one horn, having lost\none.\" 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 fame\nof Dejanira, the fairest of maidens, whom a host of suitors strove\nto win. Hercules and myself were of the number, and the rest\nyielded to us two. He urged in his behalf his descent from Jove\nand his labors by which he had exceeded the exactions of Juno, his\nstepmother. I, on the other hand, said to the father of the\nmaiden, 'Behold me, the king of the waters that flow through your\nland. I am no stranger from a foreign shore, but belong to the\ncountry, a part of your realm. Let it not stand in my way that\nroyal Juno owes me no enmity nor punishes me with heavy tasks. As\nfor this man, who boasts himself the son of Jove, it is either a\nfalse pretence, or disgraceful to him if true, for it cannot be\ntrue except by his mother's shame.' As I said this Hercules\nscowled upon me, and with difficulty restrained his rage. 'My hand\nwill answer better than my tongue,' said he. 'I yield to you the\nvictory in words, but trust my cause to the strife of deeds.' With\nthat he advanced towards me, and I was ashamed, after what I had\nsaid, to yield. I threw off my green vesture and presented myself\nfor the struggle. He tried to throw me, now attacking my head, now\nmy body. My bulk was my protection, and he assailed me in vain.\nFor a time we stopped, then returned to the conflict. We each kept\nour position, determined not to yield, foot to foot, I bending\nover him, clenching his hand 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 tongue.\nHe smiled scornfully at this, and said, 'It was the labor of my\ninfancy to conquer snakes.' So saying he clasped my neck with his\nhands. I was almost choked, and struggled to get my neck out of\nhis grasp. Vanquished in this form, I tried what alone remained to\nme and assumed the form of a bull. He grasped my neck with his\narm, and dragging my head down to the ground, overthrew me on the\nsand. Nor was this enough. His ruthless hand rent my horn from my\nhead. The Naiades took it, consecrated it, and filled it with\nfragrant flowers. Plenty adopted my horn and made it her own, and\ncalled 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 course.\nWhen the river swelled, it made itself another channel. Thus its\nhead was horned. Hercules prevented the return of these periodical\noverflows by embankments and canals; and therefore he was said to\nhave vanquished the river-god and cut off his horn. Finally, the\nlands formerly subject to overflow, but now redeemed, became very\nfertile, and this is meant by the horn of plenty.\n\nThere is another account of the origin of the Cornucopia. Jupiter\nat his birth was committed by his mother Rhea to the care of the\ndaughters of Melisseus, a Cretan king. They fed the infant deity\nwith the milk of the goat Amalthea. Jupiter broke off one of the\nhorns of the goat and gave it to his nurses, and endowed it with\nthe wonderful power of becoming filled with whatever the possessor\nmight 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\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 launch\na 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, who\nhave their workshop under Mount Aetna, from which the smoke and\nflames of their furnaces are constantly issuing. Apollo shot his\narrows at the Cyclopes, which so incensed Jupiter that he\ncondemned him as a punishment to become the 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 Amphrysos.\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 on\ncondition 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 fancied\nthat it would be easy to find a substitute. But it was not so.\nBrave warriors, who would willingly have perilled their lives for\ntheir prince, shrunk from the thought of dying for him on the bed\nof sickness; and old servants who had experienced his bounty and\nthat of his house from their childhood up, were not willing to lay\ndown the scanty remnant of their days to show their gratitude. Men\nasked, \"Why does not one of his parents do it? They cannot in the\ncourse of nature live much longer, and who can feel like them the\ncall to rescue the life they gave from an untimely end?\" But the\nparents, distressed though they were at the thought of losing him,\nshrunk from the call. Then Alcestis, with a generous self-\ndevotion, proffered herself as the substitute. Admetus, fond as he\nwas of life, would not have submitted to receive it at such a\ncost; but there was no remedy. The condition imposed by the Fates\nhad been met, and the decree was irrevocable. Alcestis sickened as\nAdmetus revived, and she was 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 labor\nwas too arduous, resolved to attempt her rescue. He went and lay\nin wait at the door of the chamber of the dying queen, and when\nDeath came for his prey, he seized him and forced him to resign\nhis victim. Alcestis recovered, and was restored to her husband.\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\nJ. R. Lowell has chosen the \"Shepherd of King Admetus\" for the\nsubject 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\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\nANTIGONE\n\nA large proportion both of the interesting persons and of the\nexalted acts of legendary Greece belongs to the female sex.\nAntigone was as bright an example of filial and sisterly fidelity\nas was Alcestis of connubial devotion. She was the daughter of\nOedipus and Jocasta, who with all their descendants were the\nvictims of an unrelenting fate, dooming them to destruction.\nOEdipus in his madness had torn out his eyes, and was driven forth\nfrom his kingdom Thebes, dreaded and abandoned by all men, as an\nobject of divine vengeance. Antigone, his daughter, alone shared\nhis wanderings and remained with him till he died, and then\nreturned to 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 the\n\"Seven against Thebes,\" which furnished ample materials for the\nepic 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, the\ndecision should be left to Eriphyle. Polynices, knowing this, gave\nEriphyle the collar of Harmonia, and thereby gained her to his\ninterest. This collar or necklace was a present which Vulcan had\ngiven to Harmonia on her marriage with Cadmus, and Polynices had\ntaken it with him on his flight from Thebes. Eriphyle could not\nresist so tempting a bribe, and by her decision the war was\nresolved on, and Amphiaraus went to his certain fate. He bore his\npart bravely in the contest, but could not avert his destiny.\nPursued by the enemy, he fled along the river, when a thunderbolt\nlaunched by Jupiter opened the ground, and he, his chariot, and\nhis charioteer were swallowed up.\n\nIt would not be in place here to detail all the acts of heroism or\natrocity which marked the contest; but we must not omit to record\nthe fidelity of Evadne as an offset to the weakness of Eriphyle.\nCapaneus, the husband of Evadne, in the ardor of the fight\ndeclared that he would force his way into the city in spite of\nJove himself. Placing a ladder against the wall he mounted, but\nJupiter, offended at his impious language, struck him with a\nthunderbolt. When his obsequies were celebrated, Evadne cast\nherself on his funeral pile and perished.\n\nEarly in the contest Eteocles consulted the soothsayer Tiresias as\nto the issue. Tiresias in his youth had by chance seen Minerva\nbathing. The goddess in her wrath deprived him of his sight, but\nafterwards relenting gave him in compensation the knowledge of\nfuture events. When consulted by Eteocles, he declared that\nvictory should fall to Thebes if Menoeceus, the son of Creon, gave\nhimself a voluntary victim. The heroic youth, learning the\nresponse, threw away his life in the first encounter.\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, the\nuncle of the fallen princes, now become king, caused Eteocles to\nbe 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 and\nvultures, 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 procure\nassistance, she determined to brave the hazard, and to bury the\nbody with her own hands. She was detected in the act, and Creon\ngave orders that she should be buried alive, as having\ndeliberately set at naught the solemn edict of the city. Her\nlover, 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 Shakspeare's\n\"King Lear.\" The perusal of her remarks cannot fail to gratify our\nreaders.\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     O, I was fond of misery with him;\n     E'en what was most unlovely grew beloved\n     When he was with me. O 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\n    --Francklin's Sophocles.\n\nPENELOPE\n\nPenelope is another of those mythic heroines whose beauties were\nrather those of character and conduct than of person. She was the\ndaughter of Icarius, a Spartan prince. Ulysses, king of Ithaca,\nsought her in marriage, and won her, over all competitors. When\nthe moment came for the bride to leave her father's house,\nIcarius, unable to bear the thoughts of parting with his daughter,\ntried to persuade her to remain with him, and not accompany her\nhusband to Ithaca. Ulysses gave Penelope her choice, to stay or go\nwith him. Penelope made no reply, but dropped her veil over her\nface. Icarius urged her no further, but when she was gone erected\na statue to Modesty on the spot where 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, still\nhoping for Ulysses' return. One of her arts of delay was engaging\nin the preparation of a robe for the funeral canopy of Laertes,\nher husband's father. She pledged herself to make her choice among\nthe suitors when the robe was finished. During the day she worked\nat the robe, but in the night she undid the work of the day. This\nis the famous Penelope's web, which is used as a proverbial\nexpression for anything which is perpetually doing but never done.\nThe rest of Penelope's history will be told when we give an\naccount of her husband's adventures.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV\n\nORPHEUS AND EURYDICE--ARISTAEUS--AMPHION--LINUS--THAMYRIS--\nMARSYAS--MELAMPUS--MUSAEUS\n\nORPHEUS AND EURYDICE\n\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,\nwhich he did 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 very\ntrees and rocks were sensible to the charm. The former crowded\nround him and the latter relaxed somewhat of their hardness,\nsoftened 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 happy\nomens with him. His very torch smoked and brought tears into their\neyes. In coincidence with such prognostics, Eurydice, shortly\nafter 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 flying\ntrod upon a snake in the grass, was bitten in the foot, and died.\nOrpheus sang his grief to all who breathed the upper air, both\ngods and men, and finding it all unavailing resolved to seek his\nwife in the regions of the dead. He descended by a cave situated\non the side of the promontory of Taenarus and arrived at the\nStygian realm. He passed through crowds of ghosts and presented\nhimself before the throne of Pluto and Proserpine. Accompanying\nthe words with the lyre, he sung, \"O deities of the underworld, to\nwhom all we who live must come, hear my words, for they are true.\nI come not to spy out the secrets of Tartarus, nor to try my\nstrength against the three-headed dog with snaky hair who guards\nthe entrance. I come to seek my wife, whose opening years the\npoisonous viper's fang has brought to an untimely end. Love has\nled me here, Love, a god all powerful with us who dwell on the\nearth, and, if old traditions say true, not less so here. I\nimplore you by these abodes full of terror, these realms of\nsilence and uncreated things, unite again the thread of Eurydice's\nlife. We all are destined to you and sooner or later must pass to\nyour domain. She too, when she shall have filled her term of life,\nwill rightly be yours. But till then grant her to me, I beseech\nyou. If you deny me I cannot return alone; you shall triumph in\nthe 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 efforts\nfor water, Ixion's wheel stood still, the vulture ceased to tear\nthe giant's liver, the daughters of Danaus rested from their task\nof drawing water in a sieve, and Sisyphus sat on his rock to\nlisten. Then for the first time, it is said, the cheeks of the\nFuries were wet with tears. Proserpine could not resist, and Pluto\nhimself gave way. Eurydice was called. She came from among the\nnew-arrived ghosts, limping with her wounded foot. Orpheus was\npermitted to take her away with him on one condition, that he\nshould not turn around to look at her till they should have\nreached the upper air. Under this condition they proceeded on\ntheir way, he leading, she following, through passages dark and\nsteep, in total silence, till they had nearly reached the outlet\ninto the cheerful upper world, when Orpheus, in a moment of\nforgetfulness, 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 each other, they grasped only\nthe air! Dying now a second time, she yet cannot reproach her\nhusband, for how can she blame his impatience to behold her?\n\"Farewell,\" she said, \"a last farewell,\"--and was hurried away, so\nfast 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 the\nbrink, without food or sleep; then bitterly accusing of cruelty\nthe powers of Erebus, he sang his complaints to the rocks and\nmountains, melting the hearts of tigers and moving the oaks from\ntheir stations. He held himself aloof from womankind, dwelling\nconstantly on the recollection of his sad mischance. The Thracian\nmaidens tried their best to captivate him, but he repulsed their\nadvances. They bore with him as long as they could; but finding\nhim insensible one day, excited by the rites of Bacchus, one of\nthem exclaimed, \"See yonder our despiser!\" and threw at him her\njavelin. The weapon, as soon as it came within the sound of his\nlyre, fell harmless at his feet. So did also the stones that they\nthrew at him. But the women raised a scream and drowned the voice\nof the music, and then the missiles reached him and soon were\nstained with his blood. The maniacs tore him limb from limb, and\nthrew his head and his lyre into the river Hebrus, down which they\nfloated, murmuring sad music, to which the shores responded a\nplaintive symphony. The Muses gathered up the fragments of his\nbody and buried them at Libethra, where the nightingale is said to\nsing over his grave more sweetly than in any other part of Greece.\nHis lyre was placed by Jupiter among the stars. His shade passed a\nsecond time to Tartarus, where he sought out his Eurydice and\nembraced her with eager arms. They roam the happy fields together\nnow, sometimes he leading, sometimes she; and Orpheus gazes as\nmuch as he will upon her, no longer incurring a penalty for a\nthoughtless glance.\n\nThe story of Orpheus has furnished Pope with an illustration of\nthe power of music, for his \"Ode for St. Cecilia'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't is 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\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 carcass\nof a dead animal would be occupied by the bees for that purpose.\nIt was no doubt from some such incident that the superstition\narose that the bees were engendered by the decaying flesh of the\nanimal; and Virgil, in the following story, shows how this\nsupposed fact may be turned to account for renewing the swarm when\nit has been lost by disease or accident:\n\nAristaeus, who first taught the management of bees, was the son of\nthe water-nymph Cyrene. His bees had perished, and he resorted for\naid to his mother. He stood at the river side and thus addressed\nher: \"O mother, the pride of my life is taken from me! I have lost\nmy precious bees. My care and skill have availed me nothing, and\nyou my mother have not warded off from me the blow of misfortune.\"\nHis mother heard these complaints as she sat in her palace at the\nbottom of the river, with her attendant nymphs around her. They\nwere engaged in female occupations, spinning and weaving, while\none told stories to amuse the rest. The sad voice of Aristaeus\ninterrupting their occupation, one of them put her head above the\nwater and seeing him, returned and gave information to his mother,\nwho ordered that he should be brought into her presence. The river\nat her command opened itself and let him pass in, while it stood\ncurled like a mountain on either side. He descended to the region\nwhere the fountains of the great rivers lie; he saw the enormous\nreceptacles of waters and was almost deafened with the roar, while\nhe surveyed them hurrying off in various directions to water the\nface of the earth. Arriving at his mother's apartment, he was\nhospitably received by Cyrene and her nymphs, who spread their\ntable with the richest dainties. They first poured out libations\nto Neptune, then regaled themselves with the feast, and after that\nCyrene thus addressed him: \"There is an old prophet named Proteus,\nwho dwells in the sea and is a favorite of Neptune, whose herd of\nsea-calves he pastures. We nymphs hold him in great respect, for\nhe is a learned sage and knows all things, past, present, and to\ncome. He can tell you, my son, the cause of the mortality among\nyour bees, and how you may remedy it. But he will not do it\nvoluntarily, however you may entreat him. You must compel him by\nforce. If you seize him and chain him, he will answer your\nquestions in order to get released, for he cannot by all his arts\nget away if you hold fast the chains. I will carry you to his\ncave, where he comes at noon to take his midday repose. Then you\nmay easily secure him. But when he finds himself captured, his\nresort is to a power he possesses of changing himself into various\nforms. He will become a wild boar or a fierce tiger, a scaly\ndragon or lion with yellow mane. Or he will make a noise like the\ncrackling of flames or the rush of water, so as to tempt you to\nlet go the chain, when he will make his escape. But you have only\nto keep him fast bound, and at last when he finds all his arts\nunavailing, he will return to his own figure and obey your\ncommands.\" So saying she sprinkled her son with fragrant nectar,\nthe beverage of the gods, and immediately an unusual vigor filled\nhis frame, and courage his heart, while perfume breathed all\naround 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. When noon came and the hour when men and herds\nretreat from the glaring sun to indulge in quiet slumber, Proteus\nissued from the water, followed by his herd of sea-calves which\nspread themselves along the shore. He sat on the rock and counted\nhis herd; then stretched himself on the floor of the cave and went\nto sleep. Aristaeus hardly allowed him to get fairly asleep before\nhe fixed the fetters on him and shouted aloud. Proteus, waking and\nfinding himself captured, immediately resorted to his arts,\nbecoming first a fire, then a flood, then a horrible wild beast,\nin rapid succession. But finding all would not do, he at last\nresumed his own form and addressed the youth in angry accents:\n\"Who are you, bold youth, who thus invade my abode, and what do\nyot want of me?\" Aristaeus replied, \"Proteus, you know already,\nfor it is needless for any one to attempt to deceive you. And do\nyou also cease your efforts to elude me. I am led hither by divine\nassistance, to know from you the cause of my misfortune and how to\nremedy it.\" At these words the prophet, fixing on him his gray\neyes with a piercing look, thus spoke: \"You receive the merited\nreward of your deeds, by which Eurydice met her death, for in\nflying from you she trod upon a serpent, of whose bite she died.\nTo avenge her death, the nymphs, her companions, have sent this\ndestruction to your bees. You have to appease their anger, and\nthus it must be done: Select four bulls, of perfect form and size,\nand four cows of equal beauty, build four altars to the nymphs,\nand sacrifice the animals, leaving their carcasses in the leafy\ngrove. To Orpheus and Eurydice you shall pay such funeral honors\nas may allay their resentment. Returning after nine days, you will\nexamine the bodies of the cattle slain and see what will befall.\"\nAristaeus faithfully obeyed these directions. He sacrificed the\ncattle, he left their bodies in the grove, he offered funeral\nhonors to the shades of Orpheus and Eurydice; then returning on\nthe ninth day he examined the bodies of the animals, and,\nwonderful to relate! a swarm of bees had taken possession of one\nof the carcasses and were pursuing their labors there as in a\nhive.\n\nIn \"The Task,\" Cowper alludes to the story of Aristaeus, when\nspeaking of the ice-palace built by the Empress Anne of Russia. He\nhas 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 where 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\nAMPHION\n\nAmphion was the son of Jupiter and Antiope, queen of Thebes. With\nhis 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 been\ntreated with great cruelty by Lycus, the usurping king of Thebes,\nand by Dirce, his wife, found means to inform her children of\ntheir rights and to summon them to her assistance. With a band of\ntheir fellow-herdsmen they attacked and slew Lycus, and tying\nDirce by the hair of her head to a bull, let him drag her till she\nwas dead. 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\nSee Tennyson's poem of \"Amphion\" for an amusing use made of this\nstory.\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\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\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 it,\nand 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\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 and\nkept him strictly imprisoned. Melampus in the silence of the night\nheard the woodworms in the timbers talking together, and found out\nby what they said that the timbers were nearly eaten through and\nthe roof would soon fall in. He told his captors and demanded to\nbe let out, warning them also. They took his warning, and thus\nescaped destruction, and rewarded Melampus and held him in high\nhonor.\n\nMUSAEUS A 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 O, sad virgin, that thy power\n     Might raise Musaeus from his bower,\n     Or bid 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\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV\n\nARION--IBYCUS--SIMONIDES--SAPPHO\n\n\nThe poets whose adventures compose this chapter were real persons\nsome of whose works yet remain, and their influence on poets who\nsucceeded them is yet more important than their poetical remains.\nThe adventures recorded of them in the following stories rest on\nthe same authority as other narratives of the \"Age of Fable,\" that\nis, of the poets who have told them. In their present form, the\nfirst two are translated from the German, Arion from Schlegel, and\nIbycus from Schiller.\n\nARION\n\nArion was a famous musician, and dwelt in 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 a\nbrother to give up the thought. \"Pray stay with me,\" he said, \"and\nbe contented. He who strives to win may lose.\" Arion answered, \"A\nwandering life best suits the free heart of a poet. The talent\nwhich a god bestowed on me, I would fain make a source of pleasure\nto others. And if I win the prize, how will the enjoyment of it be\nincreased by the consciousness of my widespread fame!\" He went,\nwon the prize, and embarked with his wealth in a Corinthian ship\nfor home. On the second morning after setting sail, the wind\nbreathed mild and fair. \"O Periander,\" he exclaimed, \"dismiss your\nfears! Soon shall you forget them in my embrace. With what lavish\nofferings will we display our gratitude to the gods, and how merry\nwill we be at the festal board!\" The wind and sea continued\npropitious. Not a cloud dimmed the firmament. He had not trusted\ntoo much to the ocean--but he had to man. He overheard the seamen\nexchanging hints with one another, and found they were plotting to\npossess themselves of his treasure. Presently they surrounded him\nloud and mutinous, and said, \"Arion, you must die! If you would\nhave a grave on shore, yield yourself to die on this spot; but if\notherwise, cast yourself into the sea.\" \"Will nothing satisfy you\nbut my life?\" said he. \"Take my gold, and welcome. I willingly buy\nmy life at that price.\" \"No, no; we cannot spare you. Your life\nwould be too dangerous to us. Where could we go to escape from\nPeriander, if he should know that you had been robbed by us? Your\ngold would be of little use to us, if on returning home, we could\nnever more be free from fear.\" \"Grant me, then,\" said he, \"a last\nrequest, since nought will avail to save my life, that I may die,\nas I have lived, as becomes a bard. When I shall have sung my\ndeath song, and my harp-strings shall have ceased to vibrate, then\nI will bid farewell to life, and yield uncomplaining to my fate.\"\nThis prayer, like the others, would have been unheeded,--they\nthought only of their booty,--but to hear so famous a musician,\nthat moved their rude hearts. \"Suffer me,\" he added, \"to arrange\nmy dress. Apollo will not favor me unless I be clad in my minstrel\ngarb.\"\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 air\nand glitter in the morning ray. The seamen gazed with admiration.\nHe strode forward to the vessel's side and looked down into the\ndeep blue sea. Addressing his lyre, he sang, \"Companion of my\nvoice, come with me to the realm of shades. Though Cerberus may\ngrowl, we know the power of song can tame his rage. Ye heroes of\nElysium, who have passed the darkling flood,--ye happy souls, soon\nshall I join your band. Yet can ye relieve my grief? Alas, I leave\nmy friend behind me. Thou, who didst find thy Eurydice, and lose\nher again as soon as found; when she had vanished like a dream,\nhow didst thou hate the cheerful light! I must away, but I will\nnot fear. The gods look down upon us. Ye who slay me unoffending,\nwhen I am no more, your time of trembling shall come. Ye Nereids,\nreceive your guest, who throws himself upon your mercy!\" So\nsaying, he sprang into the deep sea. The waves covered him, and\nthe seamen held on their way, fancying themselves safe from all\ndanger 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 of\nthe 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 with\nme, nor I with thee. Companionship we may not have. May Galatea,\nqueen of the deep, accord thee her favor, and thou, proud of the\nburden, draw her chariot over the smooth mirror of the 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 talent\nwhich a god bestowed has been the delight of thousands, but false\nknaves have stripped me of my well-earned treasure; yet I retain\nthe consciousness of wide spread fame.\" Then he told Periander all\nthe wonderful events that had befallen him, who heard him with\namazement. \"Shall such wickedness triumph?\" said he. \"Then in vain\nis power lodged in my hands. That we may discover the criminals,\nyou must remain here in concealment, and so they will approach\nwithout suspicion.\" When the ship arrived in the harbor, he\nsummoned the mariners before him. \"Have you heard anything of\nArion?\" he inquired. \"I anxiously look for his return.\" They\nreplied, \"We left him well and prosperous in Tarentum.\" As they\nsaid these words, Arion stepped forth and faced them. His well-\nproportioned limbs were arrayed in gold and purple fair to see,\nhis tunic fell around him in graceful folds, jewels adorned his\narms, his brow was crowned with a golden wreath, and over his neck\nand shoulders flowed his hair perfumed with odors; his left hand\nheld the lyre, his right the ivory wand with which he struck its\nchords. They fell prostrate at his feet, as if a lightning bolt\nhad struck them. \"We meant to murder him, and he has become a god.\nO Earth, open and receive us!\" Then Periander spoke. \"He lives,\nthe master of the lay! Kind Heaven protects the poet's life. As\nfor you, I invoke not the spirit of vengeance; Arion wishes not\nyour blood. Ye slaves of avarice, begone! Seek some barbarous\nland, and never may aught beautiful delight your souls!\"\n\nSpenser represents Arion, mounted on his dolphin, accompanying the\ntrain 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 lore,\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\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 fabrics capable of containing from ten to thirty\nthousand spectators, and as they were used only on festival\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 way\nwith 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 come\nfrom far and fly in search of hospitality. May both of us meet\nthat kind reception which shields the stranger guest from harm!\"\n\nHe paced briskly on, and soon was in the middle of the wood. There\nsuddenly, at a narrow pass, two robbers stepped forth and barred\nhis way. He must yield or fight. But his hand, accustomed to the\nlyre, and not to the strife of arms, sank powerless. He called for\nhelp on men and gods, but his cry reached no defender's ear. \"Then\nhere must I die,\" said he, \"in a strange land, unlamented, cut off\nby the hand of outlaws, and see none to avenge my cause.\" Sore\nwounded, he sank to the earth, when hoarse screamed the cranes\noverhead. \"Take up my cause, ye cranes,\" he said, \"since no voice\nbut yours answers to my cry.\" So saying he closed his eyes in\ndeath.\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 wreath\nof 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 amidst\nthe vast multitude attracted by the splendor of the feast? Did he\nfall by the hands of robbers or did some private enemy slay him?\nThe all-discerning sun alone can tell, for no other eye beheld\nit. Yet not improbably the murderer even now walks in the midst of\nthe throng, and enjoys the fruits of his crime, while vengeance\nseeks for him in vain. Perhaps in their own temple's enclosure he\ndefies the gods mingling freely in this throng of men that now\npresses into the amphitheatre.\n\nFor now crowded together, row on row, the multitude fill the seats\ntill it seems as if the very fabric would give way. The murmur of\nvoices sounds like the roar of the sea, while the circles widening\nin their ascent rise tier on tier, as if they would 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 with\nmeasured step, and moves around the circuit of the theatre. Can\nthey be mortal women who compose that awful group, and can that\nvast 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 bloodless,\nand in place of hair writhing and swelling serpents curled around\ntheir brows. Forming a circle, these awful beings sang their\nhymns, rending the hearts of the guilty, and enchaining all their\nfaculties. It rose and swelled, overpowering the sound of the\ninstruments, stealing the judgment, palsying the heart, curdling\nthe blood.\n\n\"Happy the man who keeps his heart pure from guilt and crime! Him\nwe avengers touch not; he treads the path of life secure from us.\nBut woe! woe! to him who has done the deed of secret murder. We\nthe fearful family of Night fasten ourselves upon his whole being.\nThinks he by flight to escape us? We fly still faster in pursuit,\ntwine our snakes around his feet, and bring him to the ground.\nUnwearied we pursue; no pity checks our course; still on and on,\nto the end of life, we give him no peace nor rest.\" Thus the\nEumenides sang, and moved in solemn cadence, while stillness like\nthe stillness of death sat over the whole assembly as if in the\npresence of superhuman beings; and then in solemn march completing\nthe circuit of the theatre, they passed out at the back of the\nstage.\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 of\nIbycus!\" And suddenly there appeared sailing across the sky a dark\nobject which a moment's inspection showed to be a flock of cranes\nflying directly over the theatre. \"Of Ibycus! did he say?\" The\nbeloved name revived the sorrow in every breast. As wave follows\nwave over the face of the sea, so ran from mouth to mouth the\nwords, \"Of Ibycus! him whom we all lament, whom some murderer's\nhand laid low! What have the cranes to do with him?\" And louder\ngrew the swell of voices, while like a lightning's flash the\nthought sped through every heart, \"Observe the power of the\nEumenides! The pious poet shall be avenged! the murderer has\ninformed against himself. Seize the man who uttered that cry and\nthe 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 their\ncrime, and suffered the punishment they deserved.\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. In\nthe 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, receiving\nhis reward from the munificence of those whose exploits he\ncelebrated. This employment was not derogatory, but closely\nresembles that of the earliest bards, such as Demodocus, described\nby 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 diversify\nhis theme, Simonides, who was celebrated for his piety, introduced\ninto his poem the exploits of Castor and Pollux. Such digressions\nwere not unusual with the poets on similar occasions, and one\nmight suppose an ordinary mortal might have been content to share\nthe praises of the sons of Leda. But vanity is exacting; and as\nScopas sat at his festal board among his courtiers and sycophants,\nhe grudged every verse that did not rehearse his own praises. When\nSimonides approached to receive the promised reward Scopas\nbestowed but half the expected sum, saying, \"Here is payment for\nmy portion of thy performance; Castor and Pollux will doubtless\ncompensate thee for so much as relates to them.\" The disconcerted\npoet returned to his seat amidst the laughter which followed the\ngreat man's jest. In a little time he received a message that two\nyoung men on horseback were waiting without and anxious to see\nhim. Simonides hastened to the door, but looked in vain for the\nvisitors. Scarcely, however, had he left the banqueting hall when\nthe roof fell in with a loud crash, burying Scopas and all his\nguests beneath the ruins. On inquiring as to the appearance of the\nyoung men who had sent for him, Simonides was satisfied that they\nwere no other than Castor and Pollux themselves.\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 enough\nto establish her claim to eminent poetical genius. The story of\nSappho commonly alluded to is that she was passionately in love\nwith a beautiful youth named Phaon, and failing to obtain a return\nof affection she threw herself from the promontory of Leucadia\ninto the sea, under a superstition that those who should take that\n\"Lover's-leap\" would, if not destroyed, be cured of their love.\n\nByron alludes to the story of Sappho in \"Childe Harold,\" Canto\nII.:\n\n   \"Childe Harold sailed and passed the barren spot\n    Where sad Penelope o'erlooked the wave,\n    And onward viewed the mount, not yet forgot,\n    The lover's refuge and the Lesbian's grave.\n    Dark Sappho! could not verse immortal save\n    That breast imbued with such immortal fire?\n\n   \"'Twas on a Grecian autumn's gentle eve\n    Childe Harold hailed Leucadia's cape afar;\" etc.\n\nThose who wish to know more of Sappho and her \"leap\" are referred\nto the \"Spectator,\" Nos. 223 and 229. See also Moore's \"Evenings\nin Greece.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI\n\nENDYMION--ORION--AURORA AND TITHONUS--ACIS AND GALATEA\n\nDIANA AND ENDYMION\n\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, for\nshe made his flock increase, and guarded his sheep and lambs from\nthe 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.--S. G. B.\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;\" etc., etc.\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 enamoured 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\nORION\n\nOrion was the son of Neptune. He was a handsome giant and a mighty\nhunter. His father gave him the power of wading through the depths\nof the sea, or, as others say, of walking on its surface.\n\nOrion loved Merope, the daughter of Oenopion, king of Chios, and\nsought her in marriage. He cleared the island of wild beasts, and\nbrought the spoils of the chase as presents to his beloved; but as\nOenopion constantly deferred his consent, Orion attempted to gain\npossession of the maiden by violence. Her father, incensed at this\nconduct, having made Orion drunk, deprived him of his sight and\ncast him out on the seashore. The blinded hero followed the sound\nof a Cyclops' hammer till he reached Lemnos, and came to the forge\nof Vulcan, who, taking pity on him, gave him Kedalion, one of his\nmen, to be his guide to the abode of the sun. Placing Kedalion on\nhis shoulders, Orion proceeded to the east, and there meeting the\nsun-god, was restored to sight by 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 through the sea with his\nhead just above the water, Apollo pointed it out to his sister and\nmaintained that she could not hit that black thing on the sea. The\narcher-goddess discharged a shaft with fatal aim. The waves rolled\nthe dead body of Orion to the land, and bewailing her fatal error\nwith many tears, Diana placed him among the stars, where he\nappears as a giant, with a girdle, sword, lion's skin, and club.\nSirius, his dog, follows him, and the Pleiads fly before him.\n\nThe Pleiads were daughters of Atlas, and nymphs of Diana's train.\nOne day Orion saw them and became enamoured and pursued them. In\ntheir distress they prayed to the gods to change their form, and\nJupiter in pity turned them into pigeons, and then made them a\nconstellation in the sky. Though their number was seven, only six\nstars are visible, for Electra, one of them, it is said left her\nplace that she might not behold the ruin of Troy, for that city\nwas founded by her son Dardanus. The sight had such an effect on\nher 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 story.\nWe must premise that on the celestial globe Orion is represented\nas robed in a lion's skin and wielding a club. At the moment the\nstars of the constellation, one by one, were quenched in the light\nof 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\n      shade,\n    Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid.\"\n\n    --Locksley Hall.\n\nByron alludes to the lost Pleiad:\n\n\"Like the lost Pleiad seen no more below.\"\n\nSee also Mrs. Hemans's verses on the same subject.\n\nAURORA AND TITHONUS\n\nThe goddess of the Dawn, like her sister the Moon, was at times\ninspired with the love of mortals. Her greatest favorite was\nTithonus, son of Laomedon, king of Troy. She stole him away, and\nprevailed on Jupiter to grant him immortality; but, forgetting to\nhave youth joined in the gift, after some time she began to\ndiscern, to her great mortification, that he was growing old. When\nhis hair was quite white she left his society; but he still had\nthe range of her palace, lived on ambrosial food, and was clad in\ncelestial raiment. At length he lost the power of using his limbs,\nand then she shut him up in his chamber, whence his feeble voice\nmight at times be heard. Finally she turned him into a\ngrasshopper.\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 Ocean.\nHe came with his warriors to assist the kindred of his father in\nthe war of Troy. King Priam received him with great honors, and\nlistened with admiration to his narrative of the wonders of the\nocean shore.\n\nThe very day after his arrival, Memnon, impatient of repose, led\nhis troops to the field. Antilochus, the brave son of Nestor, fell\nby his hand, and the Greeks were put to flight, when Achilles\nappeared and restored the battle. A long and doubtful contest\nensued between him and the son of Aurora; at length victory\ndeclared for Achilles, Memnon fell, and the Trojans fled in\ndismay.\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 heaven\nwith clouds; all nature mourned for the offspring of the Dawn. The\nAethiopians raised his tomb on the banks of the stream in the\ngrove of the Nymphs, and Jupiter caused the sparks and cinders of\nhis funeral pile to be turned into birds, which, dividing into two\nflocks, fought over the pile till they fell into the flame. Every\nyear at the anniversary of his death they return and celebrate his\nobsequies in like manner. Aurora remains inconsolable for the loss\nof her son. Her tears still flow, and may be seen at early morning\nin the form of dew-drops on the grass.\n\nUnlike most of the marvels of ancient mythology, there still exist\nsome memorials of this. On the banks of the river Nile, in Egypt,\nare two colossal statues, one of which is said to be the statue of\nMemnon. Ancient writers record that when the first rays of the\nrising sun fall upon this statue a sound is heard to issue from\nit, which they compare to the snapping of a harp-string. There is\nsome doubt about the identification of the existing statue with\nthe one described by the ancients, and the mysterious sounds are\nstill more doubtful. Yet there are not wanting some modern\ntestimonies to their being still audible. It has been suggested\nthat sounds produced by confined air making its escape from\ncrevices or caverns in the rocks may have given some ground for\nthe story. Sir Gardner Wilkinson, a late traveller, of the highest\nauthority, examined the statue itself, and discovered that it was\nhollow, and that \"in the lap of the statue is a stone, which on\nbeing struck emits a metallic sound, that might still be made use\nof to deceive a visitor who was predisposed to believe its\npowers.\"\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\nBook I., 1., 182.\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 story,\nand then replied, \"Yet, maiden, your persecutors are of the not\nungentle race of men, whom, if you will, you can repel; but I, the\ndaughter of Nereus, and protected by such a band of sisters, found\nno escape from the passion of the Cyclops but in the depths of the\nsea;\" and tears stopped her utterance, which when the pitying\nmaiden had wiped away with her delicate finger, and soothed the\ngoddess, \"Tell me, dearest,\" said she, \"the cause of your grief.\"\nGalatea then said, \"Acis was the son of Faunus and a Naiad. His\nfather and mother loved him dearly, but their love was not equal\nto mine. For the beautiful youth attached himself to me alone, and\nhe was just sixteen years old, the down just beginning to darken\nhis cheeks. As much as I sought his society, so much did the\nCyclops seek mine; and if you ask me whether my love for Acis or\nmy hatred of Polyphemus was the stronger, I cannot tell you; they\nwere in equal measure. O Venus, how great is thy power! this\nfierce giant, the terror of the woods, whom no hapless stranger\nescaped unharmed, who defied even Jove himself, learned to feel\nwhat love was, and, touched with a passion for me, forgot his\nflocks and his well-stored caverns. Then for the first time he\nbegan to take some care of his appearance, and to try to make\nhimself agreeable; he harrowed those coarse locks of his with a\ncomb, and mowed his beard with a sickle, looked at his harsh\nfeatures in the water, and composed his countenance. His love of\nslaughter, his fierceness and thirst of blood prevailed no more,\nand ships that touched at his island went away in safety. He paced\nup and down the sea-shore, imprinting huge tracks with his heavy\ntread, and, when weary, lay tranquilly 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 the\nhills and the waters echo the music of his song. I lay hid under a\nrock by the side of my beloved Acis, and listened to the distant\nstrain. It was full of extravagant praises of my beauty, mingled\nwith 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 I\nwill make this the last of your love-meetings.' His voice was a\nroar such as an angry Cyclops alone could utter. Aetna trembled at\nthe sound. I, overcome with terror, plunged into the water. Acis\nturned and fled, crying, 'Save me, Galatea, save me, my parents!'\nThe Cyclops pursued him, and tearing a rock from the side of the\nmountain hurled it at him. Though only a corner of it touched him,\nit overwhelmed him.\n\n\"All that fate left in my power I did for Acis. I endowed him with\nthe honors of his grandfather, the river-god. The purple blood\nflowed out from under the rock, but by degrees grew paler and\nlooked like the stream of a river rendered turbid by rains, and in\ntime it became clear. The rock cleaved open, and the water, as it\ngushed from the chasm, uttered a pleasing murmur.\"\n\nThus Acis was changed into a river, and the river retains the name\nof Acis.\n\nDryden, in his \"Cymon and Iphigenia,\" has told the story of a\nclown converted into a gentleman by the power of love, in a way\nthat shows traces of kindred to the old story of Galatea and the\nCyclops.\n\n   \"What not his father's care nor tutor's art\n    Could plant with pains in his unpolished heart,\n    The best instructor, Love, at once inspired,\n    As barren grounds to fruitfulness are fired.\n    Love taught him shame, and shame with love at strife\n    Soon taught the sweet civilities of life.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII\n\nTHE TROJAN WAR\n\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 nuptials\nof Peleus and Thetis all the gods were invited with the exception\nof Eris, or Discord. Enraged at her exclusion, the goddess threw a\ngolden apple among the guests, with the inscription, \"For the\nfairest.\" Thereupon Juno, Venus, and Minerva each claimed the\napple. Jupiter, not willing to decide in so delicate a matter,\nsent the goddesses to Mount Ida, where the beautiful shepherd\nParis was tending his flocks, and to him was committed the\ndecision. The goddesses accordingly appeared before him. Juno\npromised him power and riches, Minerva glory and renown in war,\nand Venus the fairest of women for his wife, each attempting to\nbias his decision in her own favor. Paris decided in favor of\nVenus and gave her the golden apple, thus making the two other\ngoddesses his enemies. Under the protection of Venus, Paris sailed\nto Greece, and was hospitably received by Menelaus, king of\nSparta. Now Helen, the wife of Menelaus, was the very woman whom\nVenus had destined for Paris, the fairest of her sex. She had been\nsought as a bride by numerous suitors, and before her decision was\nmade known, they all, at the suggestion of Ulysses, one of their\nnumber, took an oath that they would defend her from all injury\nand avenge her cause if necessary. She chose Menelaus, and was\nliving with him happily when Paris became their guest. Paris,\naided by Venus, persuaded her to elope with him, and carried her\nto Troy, whence arose the famous Trojan war, the theme of the\ngreatest poems of antiquity, 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 and\nan ox together to the plough and began to sow salt. Palamedes, to\ntry him, placed the infant Telemachus before the plough, whereupon\nthe father turned the plough aside, showing plainly that he was no\nmadman, and after that could no longer refuse to fulfil his\npromise. Being now himself gained for the undertaking, he lent his\naid to bring in other reluctant chiefs, especially Achilles. This\nhero was the son of that Thetis at whose marriage the apple of\nDiscord had been thrown among the goddesses. Thetis was herself\none of the immortals, a sea-nymph, and knowing that her son was\nfated to perish before Troy if he went on the expedition, she\nendeavored to prevent his going. She sent him away to the court of\nKing Lycomedes, and induced him to conceal himself in the disguise\nof a maiden among the daughters of the king. Ulysses, hearing he\nwas there, went disguised as a merchant to the palace and offered\nfor sale female ornaments, among which he had placed some arms.\nWhile the king's daughters were engrossed with the other contents\nof the merchant's pack, Achilles handled the weapons and thereby\nbetrayed himself to the keen eye of Ulysses, who found no great\ndifficulty in persuading him to disregard his mother's prudent\ncounsels and join his countrymen 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 ever\nbeen fitted out. Agamemnon, king of Mycenae, and brother of the\ninjured Menelaus, was chosen commander-in-chief. Achilles was\ntheir most illustrious warrior. After him ranked Ajax, gigantic in\nsize and of great courage, but dull of intellect; Diomede, second\nonly to Achilles in all the qualities of a hero; Ulysses, famous\nfor his sagacity; and Nestor, the oldest of the Grecian chiefs,\nand one to whom they all looked up for counsel. But Troy was no\nfeeble enemy. Priam, the king, was now old, but he had been a wise\nprince and had strengthened his state by good government at home\nand numerous alliances with his neighbors. But the principal stay\nand support of his throne was his son Hector, one of the noblest\ncharacters painted by heathen antiquity. He felt, from the first,\na presentiment of the fall of his country, but still persevered in\nhis heroic resistance, yet by no means justified the wrong which\nbrought this danger upon her. He was united in marriage with\nAndromache, and as a husband and father his character was not less\nadmirable than as a warrior. The principal leaders on the side of\nthe Trojans, besides Hector, were Aeneas and Deiphobus, Glaucus\nand Sarpedon.\n\nAfter two years of preparation the Greek fleet and army assembled\nin the port of Aulis in Boeotia. Here Agamemnon in hunting killed\na stag which was sacred to Diana, and the goddess in return\nvisited the army with pestilence, and produced a calm which\nprevented 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 her\naltar, and that none other but the daughter of the offender would\nbe acceptable. Agamemnon, however reluctant, yielded his consent,\nand the maiden Iphigenia was sent for under the pretence that she\nwas to be married to Achilles. When she was about to be sacrificed\nthe goddess relented and snatched her away, leaving a hind in her\nplace, and Iphigenia, enveloped in a cloud, was carried to Tauris,\nwhere 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:\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 reached\nher she implored the gods to be allowed to converse with him only\nthree hours. The request was granted. Mercury led Protesilaus back\nto the upper world, and when he died a second time Laodamia died\nwith him. There was a story that the nymphs planted elm trees\nround his grave which grew very well till they were high enough to\ncommand a view of Troy, and then withered away, while fresh\nbranches sprang from the roots.\n\nWordsworth has taken the story of Protesilaus and Laodamia for the\nsubject of a poem. It seems the oracle had declared that victory\nshould be the lot of that party from which should fall the first\nvictim to the war. The poet represents Protesilaus, on his brief\nreturn to earth, as relating to Laodamia the story of his 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\"THE ILIAD\"\n\nThe war continued without decisive results for nine years. Then an\nevent occurred which seemed likely to be fatal to the cause of the\nGreeks, and that was a quarrel between Achilles and Agamemnon. It\nis at this point that the great poem of Homer, \"The Iliad,\"\nbegins. The Greeks, though unsuccessful against Troy, had taken\nthe neighboring and allied cities, and in the division of the\nspoil a female captive, by name Chryseis, daughter of Chryses,\npriest of Apollo, had fallen to the share of Agamemnon. Chryses\ncame bearing the sacred emblems of his office, and begged the\nrelease of his daughter. Agamemnon refused. Thereupon Chryses\nimplored Apollo to afflict the Greeks till they should be forced\nto yield their prey. Apollo granted the prayer of his priest, and\nsent pestilence into the Grecian camp. Then a council was called\nto deliberate how to allay the wrath of the gods and avert the\nplague. Achilles boldly charged their misfortunes upon Agamemnon\nas caused by his withholding Chryseis. Agamemnon, enraged,\nconsented to relinquish his captive, but demanded that Achilles\nshould yield to him in her stead Briseis, a maiden who had fallen\nto Achilles' share in the division of the spoil. Achilles\nsubmitted, but forthwith declared that he would take no further\npart in the war. He withdrew his forces from the general camp and\nopenly avowed his intention of returning home to Greece.\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 by\nturns the hopes and fears of the powers above who took part with\neither side. Juno and Minerva, in consequence of the slight put\nupon their charms by Paris, were hostile to the Trojans; Venus for\nthe opposite cause favored them. Venus enlisted her admirer Mars\non the same side, but Neptune favored the Greeks. Apollo was\nneutral, sometimes taking one side, sometimes the other, and Jove\nhimself, though he loved the good King Priam, yet exercised a\ndegree of impartiality; not, however, without exceptions.\n\nThetis, the mother of Achilles, warmly resented the injury done to\nher son. She repaired immediately to Jove's palace and besought\nhim to make the Greeks repent of their injustice to Achilles by\ngranting success to the Trojan arms. Jupiter consented, and in the\nbattle which ensued the Trojans were completely successful. The\nGreeks were driven from the field and took refuge in their ships.\n\nThen Agamemnon called a council of his wisest and bravest chiefs.\nNestor advised that an embassy should be sent to Achilles to\npersuade him to return to the field; that Agamemnon should yield\nthe maiden, the cause of the dispute, with ample gifts to atone\nfor the wrong he had done. Agamemnon consented, and Ulysses, Ajax,\nand Phoenix were sent to carry to Achilles the penitent message.\nThey performed that duty, but Achilles was deaf to their\nentreaties. He positively refused to return to the field, and\npersisted in his resolution to embark for Greece without delay.\n\nThe Greeks had constructed a rampart around their ships, and now\ninstead of besieging Troy they were in a manner besieged\nthemselves, within their rampart. The next day after the\nunsuccessful embassy to Achilles, a battle was fought, and the\nTrojans, favored by Jove, were successful, and succeeded in\nforcing a passage through the Grecian rampart, and were about to\nset fire to the ships. Neptune, seeing the Greeks so pressed, came\nto their rescue. He appeared in the form of Calchas the prophet,\nencouraged the warriors with his shouts, and appealed to each\nindividually till he raised their ardor to such a pitch that they\nforced the Trojans to give way. Ajax performed prodigies of valor,\nand at length encountered Hector. Ajax shouted defiance, to which\nHector replied, and hurled his lance at the huge warrior. It was\nwell aimed and struck Ajax, where the belts that bore his sword\nand shield crossed each other on the breast. The double guard\nprevented its penetrating and it fell harmless. Then Ajax, seizing\na huge stone, one of those that served to prop the ships, hurled\nit at Hector. It struck him in the neck and stretched him on the\nplain. His followers instantly seized him and bore him off,\nstunned 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. That\ngoddess had arrayed herself in all her charms, and to crown all\nhad borrowed of Venus her girdle, called \"Cestus,\" which had the\neffect to heighten the wearer's charms to such a degree that they\nwere 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 despatched to heal Hector's bruises\nand to inspirit his heart. These orders were obeyed with such\nspeed that, while the battle still raged, Hector returned to the\nfield and Neptune betook himself to his own dominions.\n\nAn arrow from Paris's bow wounded Machaon, son of Aesculapius, who\ninherited his father's art of healing, and was therefore of great\nvalue to the Greeks as their surgeon, besides being one of their\nbravest warriors. Nestor took Machaon in his chariot and conveyed\nhim from the field. As they passed the ships of Achilles, that\nhero, looking out over the field, saw the chariot of Nestor and\nrecognized the old chief, but could not discern who the wounded\nchief was. So calling Patroclus, his companion and dearest friend,\nhe 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 for\nTroy, Achilles and himself had been charged by their respective\nfathers with different advice: Achilles to aspire to the highest\npitch of glory, Patroclus, as the elder, to keep watch over his\nfriend, and to guide his inexperience. \"Now,\" said Nestor, \"is the\ntime for such influence. If the gods so please, thou mayest win\nhim back to the common cause; but if not let him at least send his\nsoldiers to the field, and come thou, Patroclus, clad in his\narmor, and perhaps the very sight of it may drive back the\nTrojans.\"\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: Diomede, 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 to\nGreece. While they spoke the flames burst forth from one of the\nships. Achilles, at the sight, relented so far as to grant\nPatroclus his request to lead the Myrmidons (for so were Achilles'\nsoldiers called) to the field, and to lend him his armor, that he\nmight thereby strike more terror into the minds of the Trojans.\nWithout delay the soldiers were marshalled, Patroclus put on the\nradiant armor and mounted the chariot of Achilles, and led forth\nthe men ardent for battle. But before he went, Achilles strictly\ncharged him that he should be content with repelling the foe \"Seek\nnot,\" said he, \"to press the Trojans without me, lest thou add\nstill more to the disgrace already mine.\" Then exhorting the\ntroops to do their best he dismissed them full of ardor to the\nfight.\n\nPatroclus and his Myrmidons at once plunged into the contest where\nit 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\neverywhere for refuge. First those who had got possession of the\nship and set it on fire left and allowed the Grecians to retake it\nand extinguish 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 fight\nto Patroclus. Jupiter looked down upon him and would have snatched\nhim from the fate which awaited him, but Juno hinted that if he\ndid so it would induce all others of the inhabitants of heaven to\ninterpose in like manner whenever any of their offspring were\nendangered; to which reason Jove yielded. Sarpedon threw his\nspear, but missed Patroclus, but Patroclus threw his with better\nsuccess. It pierced Sarpedon's breast and he fell, and, calling to\nhis friends to save his body from the foe, expired. Then a furious\ncontest arose for the possession of the corpse. The Greeks\nsucceeded and stripped Sarpedon of his armor; but Jove would not\nallow the remains of his son to be dishonored, and by his command\nApollo snatched from the midst of the combatants the body of\nSarpedon and committed it to the care of the twin brothers Death\nand Sleep, by whom it was transported to Lycia, the native land of\nSarpedon, where it received due funeral rites.\n\nThus far Patroclus had succeeded to his utmost wish in repelling\nthe Trojans and relieving his countrymen, but now came a change of\nfortune. Hector, borne in his chariot, confronted him. Patroclus\nthrew a vast stone at Hector, which missed its aim, but smote\nCebriones, the charioteer, and knocked him from the car. Hector\nleaped from the chariot to rescue his friend, and Patroclus also\ndescended to complete his victory. Thus the two heroes met face to\nface. At this decisive moment the poet, as if reluctant to give\nHector the glory, records that Phoebus took part against\nPatroclus. He struck the helmet from his head and the lance from\nhis hand. At the same moment an obscure Trojan wounded him in the\nback, and Hector, pressing forward, pierced him with his spear. He\nfell 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 retiring\na short distance divested himself of his own armor and put on that\nof Achilles, then returned to the fight. Ajax and Menelaus\ndefended the body, and Hector and his bravest warriors struggled\nto capture it. The battle raged with equal fortunes, when Jove\nenveloped the whole face of heaven with a dark cloud. The\nlightning flashed, the thunder roared, and Ajax, looking round for\nsome one whom he might despatch to Achilles to tell him of the\ndeath of his friend, and of the imminent danger that his remains\nwould fall into the hands of the enemy, could see no suitable\nmessenger. It was then that he exclaimed in those famous lines so\noften 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, O, give us day.\"\n\n    --Cowper.\n\nOr, as rendered by Pope,\n\n    \"... Lord of earth and air!\n    O king! O 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 sent\nAntilochus to Achilles with the intelligence of Patroclus's death,\nand of the conflict raging for his remains. The Greeks at last\nsucceeded in bearing off the body to the ships, closely pursued by\nHector and Aeneas and the 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 inquire\nthe cause. She found him overwhelmed with self-reproach that he\nhad indulged his resentment so far, and suffered his friend to\nfall a victim to it. But his only consolation was the hope of\nrevenge. He would fly instantly in search of Hector. But his\nmother reminded him that he was now without armor, and promised\nhim, if he would but wait till the morrow, she would procure for\nhim a suit of armor from Vulcan more than equal to that he had\nlost. He consented, and Thetis immediately repaired to Vulcan's\npalace. She found him busy at his forge making tripods for his own\nuse, so artfully constructed that they moved forward of their own\naccord when wanted, and retired again when dismissed. On hearing\nthe request of Thetis, Vulcan immediately laid aside his work and\nhastened to comply with her wishes. He fabricated a splendid suit\nof armor for Achilles, first a shield adorned with elaborate\ndevices, then a helmet crested with gold, then a corselet and\ngreaves of impenetrable temper, all perfectly adapted to his form,\nand of consummate workmanship. It was all done in one night, and\nThetis, receiving it, descended with it to earth, and laid it down\nat Achilles' feet at the dawn of day.\n\nThe first glow of pleasure that Achilles had felt since the death\nof Patroclus was at the sight of this splendid armor. And now,\narrayed in it, he went forth into the camp, calling all the chiefs\nto council. When they were all assembled he addressed them.\nRenouncing 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 thirst\nfor vengeance that made him irresistible. The bravest warriors\nfled before him or fell by his lance. Hector, cautioned by Apollo,\nkept aloof; but the god, assuming the form of one of Priam's sons,\nLycaon, urged Aeneas to encounter the terrible warrior. Aeneas,\nthough he felt himself unequal, did not decline the combat. He\nhurled his spear with all his force against the shield the work of\nVulcan. It was formed of five metal plates; two were of brass, two\nof tin, and one of gold. The spear pierced two thicknesses, but\nwas stopped in the third. Achilles threw his with better success.\nIt pierced through the shield of Aeneas, but glanced near his\nshoulder and made no wound. Then Aeneas seized a stone, such as\ntwo men of modern times could hardly lift, and was about to throw\nit, and Achilles, with sword drawn, was about to rush upon him,\nwhen Neptune, who looked out upon the contest, moved with pity for\nAeneas, who he saw would surely fall a victim if not speedily\nrescued, spread a cloud between the combatants, and lifting Aeneas\nfrom the ground, bore him over the heads of warriors and steeds to\nthe rear of the battle. Achilles, when the mist cleared away,\nlooked round in vain for his adversary, and acknowledging the\nprodigy, turned his arms against other champions. But none dared\nstand before him, and Priam looking down from the city walls\nbeheld his whole army in full flight towards the city. He gave\ncommand to open wide the gates to receive the fugitives, and to\nshut them as soon as the Trojans should have passed, lest the\nenemy should enter likewise. But Achilles was so close in pursuit\nthat that would have been impossible if Apollo had not, in the\nform of Agenor, Priam's son, encountered Achilles for a while,\nthen turned to fly, and taken the way apart from the city.\nAchilles pursued and had chased his supposed victim far from the\nwalls, when Apollo disclosed himself, and Achilles, perceiving how\nhe had been deluded, 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 from\nthe walls and begged him to retire nor tempt the encounter. His\nmother, Hecuba, also besought him to the same effect, but all in\nvain. \"How can I,\" said he to himself, \"by whose command the\npeople went to this day's contest, where so many have fallen, seek\nsafety for myself against a single foe? But what if I offer him to\nyield up Helen and all her treasures and ample of our own beside?\nAh, no! it is too late. He would not even hear me through, but\nslay me while I spoke.\" While he thus ruminated. Achilles\napproached, terrible as Mars, his armor flashing lightning as he\nmoved. At that sight Hector's heart failed him and he fled.\nAchilles swiftly pursued. They ran, still keeping near the walls,\ntill they had thrice encircled the city. As often as Hector\napproached the walls Achilles intercepted him and forced him to\nkeep out in a wider circle. But Apollo sustained Hector's strength\nand would not let him sink in weariness. Then Pallas, assuming the\nform of Deiphobus, Hector's bravest brother, appeared suddenly at\nhis side. Hector saw him with delight, and thus strengthened\nstopped his flight and turned to meet Achilles. Hector threw his\nspear, which struck the shield of Achilles and bounded back. He\nturned to receive another from the hand of Deiphobus, but\nDeiphobus was gone. Then Hector understood his doom and said,\n\"Alas! it is plain this is my hour to die! I thought Deiphobus at\nhand, but Pallas deceived me, and he is still in Troy. But I will\nnot fall inglorious,\" So saying he drew his falchion from his side\nand rushed at once to combat. Achilles, secured behind his shield,\nwaited the approach of Hector. When he came within reach of his\nspear, Achilles choosing with his eye a vulnerable part where the\narmor leaves the neck uncovered, aimed his spear at that part and\nHector fell, death-wounded, and feebly said, \"Spare my body! Let\nmy parents ransom it, and let me receive funeral rites from the\nsons and 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, naught shall save thy carcass from the\ndogs. Though twenty ransoms and thy weight in gold were offered, I\nwould 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 rushing\nforth. He threw himself in the dust and besought them each by name\nto give him way. Hecuba's distress was not less violent. The\ncitizens stood round them weeping. The sound of the mourning\nreached the ears of Andromache, the wife of Hector, as she sat\namong her maidens at work, and anticipating evil she went forth to\nthe wall. When she saw the sight there presented, she would have\nthrown herself headlong from the wall, but fainted and fell into\nthe arms of her maidens. Recovering, she bewailed her fate,\npicturing to herself her country ruined, herself a captive, and\nher son dependent for his bread on the charity of strangers.\n\nWhen Achilles and the Greeks had taken their revenge on the killer\nof Patroclus they busied themselves in paying due funeral rites to\ntheir friend. A pile was erected, and the body burned with due\nsolemnity; and then ensued games of strength and skill, chariot\nraces, wrestling, boxing, and archery. Then the chiefs sat down to\nthe funeral banquet and after that retired to rest. But Achilles\nneither partook of the feast nor of sleep. The recollection of his\nlost friend kept him awake, remembering their companionship in\ntoil and dangers, in battle or on the perilous deep. Before the\nearliest dawn he left his tent, and joining to his chariot his\nswift steeds, he fastened Hector's body to be dragged behind.\nTwice he dragged him around the tomb of Patroclus, leaving him at\nlength stretched in the dust. But Apollo would not permit the body\nto be torn or disfigured with all this abuse, but preserved it\nfree from all taint or defilement.\n\nWhile Achilles indulged his wrath in thus disgracing brave Hector,\nJupiter in pity summoned Thetis to his presence. He told her to go\nto her son and prevail on him to restore the body of Hector to his\nfriends. Then Jupiter sent Iris to King Priam to encourage him to\ngo to Achilles and beg the body of his son. Iris delivered her\nmessage, and Priam immediately prepared to obey. He opened his\ntreasuries and took out rich garments and cloths, with ten talents\nin gold and two splendid tripods and a golden cup of matchless\nworkmanship. Then he called to his sons and bade them draw forth\nhis litter and place in it the various articles designed for a\nransom to Achilles. When all was ready, the old king with a single\ncompanion as aged as himself, the herald Idaeus, drove forth from\nthe gates, parting there with Hecuba, his queen, and all his\nfriends, who lamented 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 form\nof a young warrior, presented himself to the aged couple, and\nwhile at the sight of him they hesitated whether to fly or yield,\nthe god approached, and grasping Priam's hand offered to be their\nguide to Achilles' tent. Priam gladly accepted his offered\nservice, and he, mounting the carriage, assumed the reins and soon\nconveyed them to the tent of Achilles. Mercury's wand put to sleep\nall the guards, and without hinderance he introduced Priam into\nthe tent where Achilles sat, attended by two of his warriors. The\nold king threw himself at the feet of Achilles, and kissed those\nterrible hands which had destroyed so many of his sons. \"Think, O\nAchilles,\" he said, \"of thy own father, full of days like me, and\ntrembling on the gloomy verge of life. Perhaps even now some\nneighbor chief oppresses him and there is none at hand to succor\nhim in his distress. Yet doubtless knowing that Achilles lives he\nstill rejoices, hoping that one day he shall see thy face again.\nBut no comfort cheers me, whose bravest sons, so late the flower\nof Ilium, all have fallen. Yet one I had, one more than all the\nrest the strength of my age, whom, fighting for his country, thou\nhast slain. I come to redeem his body, bringing inestimable ransom\nwith me. Achilles! reverence the gods! recollect thy father! for\nhis sake show compassion to me!\" These words moved Achilles, and\nhe wept; remembering by turns his absent father and his lost\nfriend. Moved with pity of Priam's silver locks and beard, he\nraised him from the earth, and thus spake: \"Priam, I know that\nthou hast reached this place conducted by some god, for without\naid divine no mortal even in his prime of youth had dared the\nattempt. I grant thy request, moved thereto by the evident will of\nJove.\" So saying he arose, and went forth with his two friends,\nand unloaded of its charge the litter, leaving two mantles and a\nrobe for the covering of the body, which they placed on the\nlitter, and spread the garments over it, that not unveiled it\nshould be borne back to Troy. Then Achilles dismissed the old king\nwith his attendants, having first pledged himself to allow a truce\nof twelve days for the funeral solemnities.\n\nAs the litter approached the city and was descried from the walls,\nthe people poured forth to gaze once more on the face of their\nhero. Foremost of all, the mother and the wife of Hector came, and\nat the sight of the lifeless body renewed their lamentations. The\npeople all wept with them, and to the going down of the sun there\nwas 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. When\nit had completely burned, they quenched the cinders with wine,\ncollected the bones and placed them in a golden urn, which they\nburied in the earth, and reared a pile of stones over the spot.\n\n    \"Such honors Ilium to her hero paid,\n    And peaceful slept the mighty Hector's shade.\"\n\n    --Pope.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII\n\nTHE FALL OF TROY--RETURN OF THE GREEKS--ORESTES AND ELECTRA\n\nTHE FALL OF TROY\n\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 immediately\nfall, but receiving aid from new allies still continued its\nresistance. One of these allies was Memnon, the Aethiopian prince,\nwhose story we have already told. Another was Penthesilea, queen\nof the Amazons, who came with a band of female warriors. All the\nauthorities attest their valor and the fearful effect of their war\ncry. Penthesilea slew many of the bravest warriors, but was at\nlast slain by Achilles. But when the hero bent over his fallen\nfoe, and contemplated her beauty, youth, and valor, he bitterly\nregretted his victory. Thersites, an insolent brawler and\ndemagogue, ridiculed his grief, and was in consequence slain by\nthe hero.\n\nAchilles by chance had seen Polyxena, daughter of King Priam,\nperhaps on the 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 Greeks\nto grant peace to Troy. While in the temple of Apollo, negotiating\nthe marriage, Paris discharged at him a poisoned arrow, which,\nguided by Apollo, wounded Achilles in the heel, the only\nvulnerable part about him. For Thetis his mother had dipped him\nwhen an infant in the river Styx, which made every part of him\ninvulnerable except the heel by which she held him. [Footnote 1:\nThe 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 be 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 armor\non the hero who of all the 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 is\na species of Larkspur which represents the hyacinth of the poets\nin preserving the memory of this event, the Delphinium Ajacis--\nAjax's Larkspur.\n\nIt was now discovered that Troy could not be taken but by the aid\nof the arrows of Hercules. They were in possession of Philoctetes,\nthe friend 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. Diomed was now sent to induce him to rejoin\nthe army. He sukcceeded. Philoctetes was cured of his wound by\nMachaon, and Paris was the first victim of the fatal arrows. In\nhis distress Paris bethought him of one whom in his prosperity he\nhad forgotten. This was the nymph OEnone, whom he had married when\na youth, and had abandoned for the fatal beauty Helen. OEnone,\nremembering the wrongs she had suffered, refused to heal the\nwound, and Paris went back to Troy and died. OEnone quickly\nrepented, and hastened after him with remedies, but came too late,\nand in her grief hung herself. [Footnote 1: Tennyson has chosen\nOEnone as the subject of a short poem; but he has omitted the most\npoetical part of the story, the return of Paris wounded, her\ncruelty and subsequent repentance.]\n\nThere was in Troy a celebrated statue of Minerva called the\nPalladium. It was said to have fallen from heaven, and the belief\nwas that the city could not be taken so long as this statue\nremained within it. Ulysses and Diomed entered the city in\ndisguise 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 abandon\nthe siege, and a portion of the ships were withdrawn and lay hid\nbehind a neighboring island. The Greeks then constructed an\nimmense 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, and\nthe whole population issued forth rejoicing at the long-prohibited\nliberty of passing freely over the scene of the late encampment.\nThe great HORSE was the chief object of curiosity. All wondered\nwhat it could be for. Some recommended to take it into the city as\na 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.\" [Footnote: See Proverbial\nExpressions.] So saying he threw his lance at the horse's side. It\nstruck, and a hollow sound reverberated like a groan. Then perhaps\nthe people might have taken his advice and destroyed the fatal\nhorse and all its contents; but just at that moment a group of\npeople appeared, dragging forward one who seemed a prisoner and a\nGreek. Stupefied with terror, he was brought before the chiefs,\nwho reassured 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 that\nin consequence of the malice of Ulysses he had been left behind by\nhis countrymen at their departure. With regard to the wooden\nhorse, 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 children,\nwinding round their bodies and breathing their pestilential breath\nin their faces. The father, attempting to rescue them, is next\nseized and involved in the serpents' coils. He struggles to tear\nthem away, but they overpower all his efforts and strangle him and\nthe children in their poisonous folds. This event was regarded as\na clear indication of the displeasure of the gods at Laocoon's\nirreverent treatment of the wooden horse, which they no longer\nhesitated to regard as a sacred object, and prepared to introduce\nwith due solemnity into the city. This was done with songs and\ntriumphal acclamations, and the day closed with festivity. In the\nnight the armed men who were enclosed in the body of the horse,\nbeing let out by the traitor Sinon, opened the gates of the city\nto their friends, who had returned under cover of the night. The\ncity was set on fire; the people, overcome with feasting and\nsleep, put to the sword, and Troy completely subdued.\n\nOne of the most celebrated groups of statuary in existence is that\nof Laocoon and his children in the embrace of the serpents. A cast\nof it is owned by the Boston Athenaeum; the original is in the\nVatican at Rome. The following lines are from the \"Childe Harold\"\nof 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 an 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 ever 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 slain\nat last on the fatal night when the Greeks took the city. He had\narmed himself and was about to mingle with the combatants, but was\nprevailed on by Hecuba, his aged queen, to take refuge with\nherself and his daughters as a suppliant at the altar of Jupiter.\nWhile there, his youngest son Polites, pursued by Pyrrhus, the son\nof Achilles, rushed in wounded, and expired at the feet of his\nfather; whereupon Priam, overcome with indignation, hurled his\nspear with feeble hand against Pyrrhus, [Footnote 1: Pyrrhus's\nexclamation, \"Not such aid nor such defenders does the time\nrequire,\" has become proverbial. See Proverbial Expressions.] and\nwas forthwith slain by 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 never\nbe believed. Polyxena, another daughter, who had been loved by\nAchilles, was demanded by the ghost of that warrior, and was\nsacrificed by the Greeks upon his tomb.\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 Diomed entered the city in disguise to carry off the\nPalladium. She saw and recognized Ulysses, but kept the secret and\neven assisted them in obtaining the image. Thus she became\nreconciled to her husband, and they were among the first to leave\nthe shores of Troy for their native land. But having incurred the\ndispleasure of the gods they were driven by storms from shore to\nshore of the Mediterranean, visiting Cyprus, Phoenicia, and Egypt.\nIn Egypt they were kindly treated and presented with rich gifts,\nof which Helen's share was a golden spindle and a basket on\nwheels. The basket was to hold the wool and spools for the queen's\nwork.\n\nDyer, in his poem of the \"Fleece,\" thus alludes to this 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\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 of\ntheir daughter Hermione to Neoptolemus, son of Achilles.\n\nAGAMEMNON, ORESTES, AND ELECTRA\n\nAgamemnon, the general-in-chief of the Greeks, the brother of\nMenelaus, and who had been drawn into the quarrel to avenge his\nbrother's wrongs, not his own, was not so fortunate in the issue.\nDuring his absence his wife Clytemnestra had been false to him,\nand when his return was expected, she with her paramour,\nAegisthus, laid a plan for his destruction, and at the banquet\ngiven to celebrate his return, murdered him.\n\nIt was intended by the conspirators to slay his son Orestes also,\na lad not yet old enough to be an object of apprehension, but from\nwhom, if he 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 by\nmessengers of the duty of avenging his father's death, and when\ngrown up he consulted the oracle of Delphi, which confirmed him in\nhis design. He therefore repaired in disguise to Argos, pretending\nto be a messenger from Strophius, who had come to announce the\ndeath of Orestes, and brought the ashes of the deceased in a\nfuneral urn. After visiting his father's tomb and sacrificing upon\nit, according to the rites of the ancients, he made himself known\nto his sister Electra, and soon after slew both Aegisthus and\nClytemnestra.\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, avenging\ndeities, seized upon Orestes, and drove him frantic from land to\nland. Pylades accompanied him in his wanderings and watched over\nhim. At length, in answer to a second appeal to the oracle, he was\ndirected to go to Tauris in Scythia, and to bring thence a statue\nof Diana which was believed to have fallen from heaven.\nAccordingly Orestes and Pylades went to Tauris, where the\nbarbarous people were accustomed to sacrifice to the goddess all\nstrangers who fell into their hands. The two friends were seized\nand carried bound to the temple to be made victims. But the\npriestess 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 disclosed\nherself to them, and the three made their escape with the statue\nof the goddess, and returned to Mycenae.\n\nBut Orestes was not yet relieved from the vengeance of the\nErinyes. 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 Erinyes brought forward their\naccusation, and Orestes made the command of the Delphic oracle his\nexcuse. When the court voted and the voices were equally divided,\nOrestes 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 the\ndomestics, and desirous of keeping his arrival a secret till the\nhour of vengeance should arrive, produces the urn in which his\nashes are supposed to rest. Electra, believing him to be really\ndead, takes the urn and, embracing it, pours forth her grief in\nlanguage 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\nTROY\n\nThe facts relating to the city of Troy are still unknown to\nhistory. Antiquarians have long sought for the actual city and\nsome record of its rulers. The most interesting explorations were\nthose conducted about 1890 by the German scholar, Henry\nSchliemann, who believed that at the mound of Hissarlik, the\ntraditional site of Troy, he had uncovered the ancient capital.\nSchliemann excavated down below the ruins of three or four\nsettlements, each revealing an earlier civilization, and finally\ncame upon some royal jewels and other relics said to be \"Priam's\nTreasure.\" Scholars are by no means agreed as to the historic\nvalue of these discoveries.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIX\n\nADVENTURES OF ULYSSES--THE LOTUS-EATERS--CYCLOPES--CIRCE--SIRENS\n--SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS--CALYPSO\n\nRETURN OF ULYSSES\n\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 Ithaca.\n\nFrom Troy the vessels first made land at Ismarus, city of the\nCiconians, where, in a skirmish with the inhabitants, Ulysses lost\nsix men from each ship. Sailing thence, they were overtaken by a\nstorm 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 of\nthe ships.\n\n[Footnote: Tennyson in the \"Lotus-eaters\" has charmingly expressed\nthe dreamy, languid feeling which the lotus food is said to have\nproduced.\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 others' whispered speech;\n    Eating the Lotos, 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 middle\nof 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 with\nthem a jar of wine for a present, and coming to a large cave they\nentered it, and finding no one within examined its contents. They\nfound it stored with the richest of the flock, quantities of\ncheese, pails and bowls of milk, lambs and kids in their pens, all\nin 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 replied\nmost humbly, stating that they were Greeks, from the great\nexpedition that had lately won so much glory in the conquest of\nTroy; that they were now on their way home, and finished by\nimploring his hospitality in the name of the gods. Polyphemus\ndeigned no answer, but reaching out his hand seized two of the\nGreeks, whom he hurled against the side of the cave, and dashed\nout their brains. He proceeded to devour them with great relish,\nand having made a hearty meal, stretched himself out on the floor\nto sleep. Ulysses was tempted to seize the opportunity and plunge\nhis sword into him as he slept, but recollected that it would only\nexpose them all to certain destruction, as the rock with which the\ngiant had closed up the door was far beyond their power to remove,\nand they would therefore be in hopeless imprisonment. Next morning\nthe giant seized two more of the Greeks, and despatched them in\nthe same manner as their companions, feasting on their flesh till\nno fragment 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 of\nthe boldest were selected, with whom Ulysses joined himself as a\nfifth. The Cyclops came home at evening, rolled away the stone and\ndrove in his flock as usual. After milking them and making his\narrangements as before, he seized two more of Ulysses' companions\nand dashed their brains out, and made his evening meal upon them\nas he had on the others. After he had supped, Ulysses approaching\nhim handed him a bowl of wine, saying, \"Cyclops, this is wine;\ntaste and drink after thy meal of men's flesh.\" He took and drank\nit, and was hugely delighted with it, and called for more. Ulysses\nsupplied him once again, which pleased the giant so much that he\npromised him as a favor that he should be the last of the party\ndevoured. He asked his name, to which Ulysses replied, \"My name is\nNoman.\"\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 as a carpenter does his\nauger. The howling monster with his outcry filled the cavern, and\nUlysses with his aids nimbly got out of his way and concealed\nthemselves in the cave. He, bellowing, called aloud on all the\nCyclopes dwelling in the caves around him, far and near. They on\nhis cry flocked round the den, and inquired what grievous hurt had\ncaused him to sound such an alarm and break their slumbers. He\nreplied, \"O friends, I die, and Noman gives the blow.\" They\nanswered, \"If no man hurts thee it is the stroke of Jove, and thou\nmust bear it.\" So saying, 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 of\nthe flock three abreast, with osiers which they found on the floor\nof the cave. To the middle ram of the three one of the Greeks\nsuspended himself, so protected by the exterior rams on either\nside. As they passed, the giant felt of the animals' backs and\nsides, but never thought of their bellies; so the men all passed\nsafe, Ulysses himself being on the last one that passed. When they\nhad got a few paces from the cavern, Ulysses and his friends\nreleased themselves from their rams, and drove a good part of the\nflock down to the shore to their boat. They put them aboard with\nall haste, then pushed off from the shore, and when at a safe\ndistance Ulysses shouted out, \"Cyclops, the gods have well\nrequited thee for thy atrocious deeds. Know it is Ulysses to whom\nthou owest thy shameful loss of sight.\" The Cyclops, hearing this,\nseized a rock that projected from the side of the mountain, and\nrending it from its bed, he lifted it high in the air, then\nexerting all his force, hurled it in the direction of the voice.\nDown came the mass, just clearing the vessel's stern. The ocean,\nat the plunge of the huge rock, heaved the ship towards the land,\nso that it barely escaped being swamped by the waves. When they\nhad with the utmost difficulty pulled off shore, Ulysses was about\nto hail the giant again, but his friends besought him not to do\nso. He could not forbear, however, letting the giant know that\nthey had escaped his missile, but waited till they had reached a\nsafer distance than before. The giant answered them with curses,\nbut Ulysses and his friends plied their oars vigorously, and soon\nregained 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 had\nstood at the helm, without sleep. At last quite exhausted he lay\ndown to sleep. While he slept, the crew conferred together about\nthe mysterious bag, and concluded it must contain treasures given\nby the hospitable king Aeolus to their commander. Tempted to\nsecure some portion for themselves, they loosed the string, when\nimmediately the winds rushed forth. The ships were driven far from\ntheir course, and back again to the island they had just left.\nAeolus was so indignant at their folly that he refused to assist\nthem further, and they were obliged to labor over their course\nonce more by means of their oars.\n\nTHE LAESTRYGONIANS\n\nTheir next adventure was with the barbarous tribe of\nLaestrygonians. The vessels all pushed into the harbor, tempted by\nthe secure appearance of the cove, completely land-locked; only\nUlysses moored his vessel without. As soon as the Laestrygonians\nfound the ships completely in their power they attacked them,\nheaving huge stones which broke and overturned them, and with\ntheir spears despatched the seamen as they struggled in the water.\nAll the vessels with their crews were destroyed, except Ulysses'\nown ship, which had remained outside, and finding no safety but in\nflight, he exhorted his men to ply their oars vigorously, and they\nescaped.\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 Circe dwelt, 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. The\nsounds of soft music were heard from within, and a sweet female\nvoice singing. Eurylochus called aloud and the goddess came forth\nand invited them in; they all gladly entered except Eurylochus,\nwho suspected danger. The goddess conducted her guests to a seat,\nand had them served with wine and other delicacies. When they had\nfeasted heartily, she touched them one by one with her wand, and\nthey became immediately changed into SWINE, in \"head, body, voice,\nand bristles,\" yet with their intellects as before. She shut them\nin her sties and supplied them with acorns and such other things\nas 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 a\nyouth who addressed him familiarly, appearing to be acquainted\nwith his adventures. He announced himself as Mercury, and informed\nUlysses of the arts of Circe, and of the danger of approaching\nher. As Ulysses was not to be dissuaded from his attempt, Mercury\nprovided him with a sprig of the plant Moly, of wonderful power to\nresist sorceries, and instructed him how to act. Ulysses\nproceeded, and reaching the palace was courteously received by\nCirce, who entertained him as she had done his companions, and\nafter he had eaten and drank, touched him with her wand, saying,\n\"Hence, seek the sty and wallow with thy friends.\" But he, instead\nof obeying, drew his sword and rushed upon her with fury in his\ncountenance. She fell on her knees and begged for mercy. He\ndictated a solemn oath that she would release his companions and\npractise no further harm against him or them; and she repeated it,\nat the same time promising to dismiss them all in safety after\nhospitably entertaining them. She was as good as her word. The men\nwere restored to their shapes, the rest of the crew summoned from\nthe shore, and the whole magnificently entertained day after day,\ntill Ulysses seemed to have forgotten his native land, and to have\nreconciled himself to an inglorious life of ease and pleasure.\n\nAt length his companions recalled him to nobler sentiments, and he\nreceived their admonition gratefully. Circe aided their departure,\nand instructed them how to pass safely by the coast of the Sirens.\nThe Sirens were sea-nymphs who had the power of charming by their\nsong all who heard them, so that the unhappy mariners were\nirresistibly impelled to cast themselves into the sea to their\ndestruction. Circe directed Ulysses to fill the ears of his seamen\nwith wax, so that they should not hear the strain; and to cause\nhimself to be bound to the mast, and his people to be strictly\nenjoined, whatever he might say or do, by no means to release him\ntill they should have passed the Sirens' island. Ulysses obeyed\nthese directions. He filled the ears of his people with wax, and\nsuffered them to bind him with cords firmly to the mast. As they\napproached the Sirens' island, the sea was calm, and over the\nwaters came the notes of music so ravishing and attractive that\nUlysses struggled to get loose, and by cries and signs to his\npeople begged to be released; but they, obedient to his previous\norders, sprang forward and bound him still faster. They held on\ntheir course, and the music grew fainter till it ceased to be\nheard, when with joy Ulysses gave his companions the signal to\nunseal their ears, and they relieved him from his bonds.\n\nThe imagination of a modern poet, Keats, has discovered for us the\nthoughts that passed through the brains of the victims of Circe,\nafter their transformation. In his \"Endymion\" he represents one of\nthem, a monarch in the guise of an elephant, addressing the\nsorceress 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\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 was\nchanged into a snaky monster by Circe. She dwelt in a cave high up\non the cliff, from whence she was accustomed to thrust forth her\nlong necks (for she had six heads), and in each of her mouths to\nseize one of the crew of every vessel passing within reach. The\nother terror, Charybdis, was a gulf, nearly on a level with the\nwater. Thrice each day the water rushed into a frightful chasm,\nand thrice was disgorged. Any vessel coming near the whirlpool\nwhen the tide was rushing in must inevitably be ingulfed; not\nNeptune 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 Charybdis\ningulfed them, gave warning at a distance, but Scylla could\nnowhere be discerned. While Ulysses and his men watched with\nanxious eyes the dreadful whirlpool, they were not equally on\ntheir 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 Thrinakia, 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, with\nan oath that they would not touch one of the animals of the sacred\nflocks and herds, but content themselves with what provision they\nyet had left of the supply which Circe had put on board. So long\nas this supply lasted the people kept their oath, but contrary\nwinds detained them at the island for a month, and after consuming\nall their stock of provisions, they were forced to rely upon the\nbirds and fishes they could catch. Famine pressed them, and at\nlength one day, in the absence of Ulysses, they slew some of the\ncattle, vainly attempting to make amends for the deed by offering\nfrom them a portion to the offended powers. Ulysses, on his return\nto the shore, was horror-struck at perceiving what they had done,\nand the more so on account of the portentous signs which followed.\nThe skins crept on the ground, and the joints of meat lowed on the\nspits 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 came\nto pieces. The keel and mast floating side by side, Ulysses formed\nof them a raft, to which he clung, and, the wind changing, the\nwaves bore him to Calypso's island. All the rest of the crew\nperished.\n\nThe following allusion to the topics we have just been considering\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. See Proverbial Expressions.\n\n CALYPSO\n\nCalypso was a sea-nymph, which name denotes a numerous class of\nfemale divinities of lower rank, yet sharing many of the\nattributes of the gods. Calypso received Ulysses hospitably,\nentertained him magnificently, became enamoured of him, and wished\nto retain him forever, conferring on him immortality. But he\npersisted in his resolution to return to his country and his wife\nand son. Calypso at last received the command of Jove to dismiss\nhim. Mercury brought the message to her, and found her in her\ngrotto, which 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 everywhere 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\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 by\na compassionate sea-nymph, who in the form of a cormorant alighted\non the raft, and presented him a girdle, directing him to bind it\nbeneath his breast, and if he should be compelled to trust himself\nto the waves, it would buoy him up and enable him by swimming to\nreach 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 share\nher immortality with him. But Minerva, who in the shape of Mentor\naccompanied him and governed all his movements, made him repel her\nallurements, and when no other means of escape could be found, the\ntwo friends leaped from a cliff into the sea, and swam to a vessel\nwhich lay becalmed off shore. Byron alludes to this leap of\nTelemachus 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\n\n\nCHAPTER XXX\n\nTHE PHAEACIANS--FATE OF THE SUITORS\n\nTHE PHAEACIANS\n\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 surf\nbeat 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 which\nhe stretched himself, and heaping the leaves over him, fell\nasleep.\n\nThe land where he was thrown was Scheria, the country of the\nPhaeacians. 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 enjoyment\nof it undisturbed by the alarms of war, for as they dwelt remote\nfrom gain-seeking man, no enemy ever approached their shores, and\nthey did not even require to make use of bows and quivers. Their\nchief employment was navigation. Their ships, which went with the\nvelocity of birds, were endued with intelligence; they knew every\nport and needed no pilot. Alcinous, the son of Nausithous, was now\ntheir king, a wise and just 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. This\nwas no slight affair, for the fountains were at some distance, and\nthe garments must be carried thither. On awaking, the princess\nhastened to her parents to tell them what was on her mind; not\nalluding to her wedding-day, but finding other reasons equally\ngood. Her father readily assented and ordered the grooms to\nfurnish 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\nunlading the carriage, bore the garments down to the water, and\nworking with cheerfulness and alacrity soon despatched their\nlabor. Then having spread the garments on the shore to dry, and\nhaving themselves bathed, they sat down to enjoy their meal; after\nwhich they rose and amused themselves with a game of ball, the\nprincess singing to them while they played. But when they had\nrefolded the apparel and were about to resume their way to the\ntown, Minerva caused the ball thrown by the princess to fall into\nthe water, whereat they all screamed and Ulysses awaked at the\nsound.\n\nNow we must picture to ourselves Ulysses, a ship-wrecked mariner,\nbut a few hours escaped from the waves, and utterly destitute of\nclothing, awaking and discovering that only a few bushes were\ninterposed tween him and a group of young maidens whom, by their\ndeportment and attire, he discovered to be not mere peasant girls,\nbut of a higher class. Sadly needing help, how could he yet\nventure, naked as he was, to discover himself and make his wants\nknown? It certainly was a case worthy of the interposition of his\npatron goddess Minerva, who never failed him at a crisis. Breaking\noff a leafy branch from a tree, he held it before him and stepped\nout from the thicket. The virgins at sight of him fled in all\ndirections, Nausicaa alone excepted, for HER Minerva aided and\nendowed with courage and discernment. Ulysses, standing\nrespectfully aloof, told his sad case, and besought the fair\nobject (whether queen or goddess he professed he knew not) for\nfood and clothing. The princess replied courteously, promising\npresent relief and her father's hospitality when he should become\nacquainted with the facts. She called back her scattered maidens,\nchiding their alarm, and reminding them that the Phaeacians had no\nenemies to fear. This man, she told them, was an unhappy wanderer,\nwhom it was a duty to cherish, for the poor and stranger are from\nJove. She bade them bring food and clothing, for some of her\nbrother's garments were among the contents of the wagon. When this\nwas done, and Ulysses, retiring to a sheltered place, had washed\nhis body free from the sea-foam, clothed and refreshed himself\nwith food, Pallas dilated his form and diffused grace over his\nample chest and manly brows.\n\nThe princess, seeing him, was filled with admiration, and scrupled\nnot to say to her damsels that she wished the gods would send her\nsuch a husband. To Ulysses she recommended that he should repair\nto the city, following herself and train so far as the way lay\nthrough the fields; but when they should approach the city she\ndesired that he would no longer be seen in her company, for she\nfeared the remarks which rude and vulgar people might make on\nseeing her return accompanied by such a gallant stranger. To avoid\nwhich she directed him to stop at a grove adjoining the city, in\nwhich were a farm and garden belonging to the king. After allowing\ntime for the princess and her companions to reach the city, he was\nthen to pursue his way thither, and would be easily guided by any\nhe 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 be\nhis 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), and\ntheir 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 doorposts silver, the lintels silver ornamented with gold. On\neither side were figures of mastiffs wrought in gold and silver,\nstanding in rows as if to guard the approach. Along the walls were\nseats spread through all their length with mantles of finest\ntexture, the work of Phaeacian maidens. On these seats the princes\nsat and feasted, while golden statues of graceful youths held in\ntheir hands lighted torches which shed radiance over the scene.\nFull fifty female menials served in household offices, some\nemployed to grind the corn, others to wind off the purple wool or\nply the loom. For the Phaeacian women as far exceeded all other\nwomen in household arts as the mariners of that country did the\nrest of mankind in the management of ships. Without the court a\nspacious garden lay, four acres in extent. In it grew many a lofty\ntree, pomegranate, pear, apple, fig, and olive. Neither winter's\ncold nor summer's drought arrested their growth, but they\nflourished in constant succession, some budding while others were\nmaturing. The vineyard was equally prolific. In one quarter you\nmight see the vines, some in blossom, some loaded with ripe\ngrapes, and in another observe the vintagers treading the wine\npress. On the garden's borders flowers of all hues bloomed all the\nyear round, arranged with neatest art. In the midst two fountains\npoured forth their waters, one flowing by artificial channels over\nall the garden, the other conducted through the courtyard of the\npalace, whence every citizen might draw 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 the\nevening meal. Just then Minerva dissolved the cloud and disclosed\nhim to the assembled chiefs. Advancing to the place where the\nqueen sat, he knelt at her feet and implored her favor and\nassistance to enable him to return to his native country. Then\nwithdrawing, he seated himself in the manner of suppliants, at the\nhearth side.\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 gave\nhis hand to Ulysses and led him to a seat, displacing thence his\nown son to make room for the stranger. Food and wine were set\nbefore 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 came,\nand (recognizing the clothes which he wore as those which her\nmaidens and herself had made) from whom he received those\ngarments. He told them of his residence in Calypso's isle and his\ndeparture thence; of the wreck of his raft, his escape by\nswimming, and of the relief afforded by the princess. The parents\nheard approvingly, and the king promised to furnish a ship in\nwhich his guest 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, and\nall betook themselves to the palace, where a bounteous repast was\nprovided. After the feast the king proposed that the young men\nshould show their guest their proficiency in manly sports, and all\nwent forth to the arena for games of running, wrestling, and other\nexercises. After all had done their best, Ulysses being challenged\nto show what he could do, at first declined, but being taunted by\none of the youths, seized a quoit of weight far heavier than any\nof the Phaeacians had thrown, and sent it farther than the utmost\nthrow of theirs. All were astonished, and viewed their guest with\ngreatly 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 sang\nso feelingly the terrors and the exploits of that eventful time\nthat all were delighted, but Ulysses was moved to tears. Observing\nwhich, Alcinous, when the song was done, demanded of him why at\nthe mention of Troy his sorrows awaked. Had he lost there a\nfather, or brother, or any dear friend? Ulysses replied by\nannouncing himself by his true name, and at their request,\nrecounted the adventures which had befallen him since his\ndeparture from Troy. This narrative raised the sympathy and\nadmiration of the Phaeacians for their guest to the highest pitch.\nThe king proposed that all the chiefs should present him with a\ngift, himself setting the example. They obeyed, and vied with one\nanother in loading the illustrious stranger with costly gifts.\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 vessel\ntouched the strand he was asleep. The mariners, without waking\nhim, carried him on shore, and landed with him the chest\ncontaining his presents, and then sailed away.\n\nNeptune was so displeased at the conduct of the Phaeacians in thus\nrescuing Ulysses from his hands that on the return of the vessel\nto port he transformed it into a rock, right opposite the mouth of\nthe 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\n    --Odyssey, Book VIII.\n\nLord Carlisle, in his \"Diary in the Turkish and Greek Waters,\"\nthus speaks of Corfu, which he considers to be the ancient\nPhaeacian island:\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 there\nis a picturesque rock with a small convent perched upon it, which\nby 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\nFATE OF THE SUITORS\n\nUlysses had now been away from Ithaca for twenty years, and when\nhe awoke he did not recognize his native land. Minerva appeared to\nhim in the form of a young shepherd, informed him where he was,\nand told him the state of things at his palace. More than a\nhundred nobles of Ithaca and of the neighboring islands had been\nfor years suing for the hand of Penelope, his wife, imagining him\ndead, and lording it over his palace and people, as if they were\nowners of both. That he might be able to take vengeance upon them,\nit was important that he should not be recognized. Minerva\naccordingly metamorphosed him into an unsightly beggar, and as\nsuch he was kindly received by Eumaeus, the swine-herd, a faithful\nservant 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. He arrived and sought Eumaeus to learn\nsomething of the state of affairs at the palace before presenting\nhimself among the suitors. Finding a stranger with Eumaeus, he\ntreated him courteously, though in the garb of a beggar, and\npromised him assistance. Eumaeus was sent to the palace to inform\nPenelope privately of her son's arrival, for caution was necessary\nwith regard to the suitors, who, as Telemachus had learned, were\nplotting to intercept and kill him. When Eumaeus was gone, Minerva\npresented herself to Ulysses, and directed him to make himself\nknown to his son. At the same time she touched him, removed at\nonce from him the appearance of age and penury, and gave him the\naspect of vigorous manhood that belonged to him. Telemachus viewed\nhim with astonishment, and at first thought he must be more than\nmortal. But Ulysses announced himself as his father, and accounted\nfor the change of appearance by explaining that it was Minerva's\ndoing.\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 also go as a\nbeggar, a character which in the rude old times had different\nprivileges from what we concede to it now. As traveller and\nstoryteller, 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 to\ninterpose otherwise than he might do for any stranger. At the\npalace they found the usual scene of feasting and riot going on.\nThe suitors pretended to receive Telemachus with joy at his\nreturn, though secretly mortified at the failure of their plots to\ntake his life. The old beggar was permitted to enter, and provided\nwith a portion from the table. A touching incident occurred as\nUlysses entered the courtyard of the palace. An old dog lay in the\nyard almost dead with age, and seeing a stranger enter, raised his\nhead, with ears erect. It was Argus, Ulysses' own dog, that he had\nin other days often led to the chase.\n\n    \"... Soon as he perceived\n    Long-lost Ulysses nigh, down fell his ears\n    Clapped close, and with his tail glad sign 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 began\nto exhibit their insolence to him. When he mildly remonstrated,\none of them, raised a stool and with it gave him a blow.\nTelemachus had hard work to restrain his indignation at seeing his\nfather so treated in his own hall, but remembering his father's\ninjunctions, said no more than what became him as master of the\nhouse, though young, and protector of his guests.\n\nPenelope had protracted her decision in favor of either 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 skill\namong the suitors. The test selected was shooting with the bow.\nTwelve rings were arranged in a line, and he whose arrow was sent\nthrough the whole twelve was to have the queen for his prize. A\nbow that one of his brother heroes had given to Ulysses in former\ntimes was brought from the armory, and with its quiver full of\narrows was laid in the hall. Telemachus had taken care that all\nother weapons should be removed, under pretence that in the heat\nof competition there was danger, in some rash moment, of putting\nthem 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. Telemachus\nendeavored to do it, but found all his efforts fruitless; and\nmodestly confessing that he had attempted a task beyond his\nstrength, he yielded the bow to another. He tried it with no\nbetter success, and, amidst the laughter and jeers of his\ncompanions, gave it up. Another tried it and another; they rubbed\nthe bow with tallow, but all to no purpose; it would not bend.\nThen spoke Ulysses, humbly suggesting that he should be permitted\nto try; for, said he, \"beggar as I am, I was once a soldier, and\nthere is still some strength in these old limbs of mine.\" The\nsuitors hooted with derision, and commanded to turn him out of the\nhall for his insolence. But Telemachus spoke up for him, and,\nmerely to gratify the old man, bade him try. Ulysses took the bow,\nand handled it with the hand of a master. With ease he adjusted\nthe cord to its notch, then fitting an arrow to the bow he drew\nthe string and sped the arrow unerring through the rings.\n\nWithout allowing them time to express their astonishment, he said,\n\"Now for another mark!\" and aimed direct at the most insolent one\nof the suitors. The arrow pierced through his throat and he fell\ndead. Telemachus, Eumaeus, and another faithful follower, well\narmed, now sprang to the side of Ulysses. The suitors, in\namazement, looked round for arms, but found none, neither was\nthere any way of escape, for Eumaeus had secured the door. Ulysses\nleft them not long in uncertainty; he announced himself as the\nlong-lost chief, whose house they had invaded, whose substance\nthey had squandered, whose wife and son they had persecuted for\nten long years; and told them he meant to have ample vengeance.\nAll were slain, and Ulysses was left master of his palace and\npossessor of his kingdom and his wife.\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;\" etc.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXI\n\nADVENTURES OF AENEAS--THE HARPIES--DIDO--PALINURUS\n\nADVENTURES OF AENEAS\n\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 ruin\nof their native city. On that fatal night when the wooden horse\ndisgorged 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 too 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 one\nof the bushes. To his dismay the wounded part dropped blood. When\nhe repeated the act a voice from the ground cried out to him,\n\"Spare me, Aeneas; I am your kinsman, Polydore, here murdered with\nmany arrows, from which a bush has grown, nourished with my\nblood.\" These words recalled to the recollection of Aeneas that\nPolydore was a young prince of Troy, whom his father had sent with\nample treasures to the neighboring land of Thrace, to be there\nbrought up, at a distance from the horrors of war. The king to\nwhom he was sent had murdered him and seized his treasures. Aeneas\nand his companions, considering the land accursed by the stain of\nsuch a crime, hastened away.\n\nThey next landed on the island of Delos, which was once a floating\nisland, till Jupiter fastened it by adamantine chains to the\nbottom 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, ambiguous as usual,--\"Seek your\nancient mother; there the race of Aeneas shall dwell, and reduce\nall other nations to their sway.\" The Trojans heard with joy and\nimmediately began to ask one another, \"Where is the spot intended\nby the oracle?\" Anchises remembered that there was a tradition\nthat their forefathers came from Crete and thither they resolved\nto steer. They arrived at Crete and began to build their city, but\nsickness broke out among them, and the fields that they had\nplanted failed to yield a crop. In this gloomy aspect of affairs\nAeneas was warned in a dream to leave the country and seek a\nwestern land, called Hesperia, whence Dardanus, the true founder\nof the Trojan race, had originally migrated. To Hesperia, now\ncalled Italy, therefore, they directed their future course, and\nnot till after many adventures and the lapse of time sufficient to\ncarry a modern navigator several times round the world, did they\narrive there.\n\nTheir first landing was at the island of the Harpies. These were\ndisgusting birds with the heads of maidens, with long claws and\nfaces pale with hunger. They were sent by the gods to torment a\ncertain Phineus, whom Jupiter had deprived of his sight, in\npunishment of his cruelty; and whenever a meal was placed before\nhim the Harpies darted down from the air and carried it off. They\nwere driven 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 roaming\nover the plain. They slew as many as they wished and prepared for\na feast. But no sooner had they seated themselves at the table\nthan a horrible clamor was heard in the air, and a flock of these\nodious harpies came rushing down upon them, seizing in their\ntalons the meat from the dishes and flying away with it. Aeneas\nand his companions drew their swords and dealt vigorous blows\namong the monsters, but to no purpose, for they were so nimble it\nwas almost impossible to hit them, and their feathers were like\narmor impenetrable to steel. One of them, perched on a neighboring\ncliff, screamed out, \"Is it thus, Trojans, you treat us innocent\nbirds, first slaughter our cattle and then make war on ourselves?\"\nShe then predicted dire sufferings to them in their future course,\nand having vented her wrath flew away. The Trojans made haste to\nleave the country, and next found themselves coasting along the\nshore of Epirus. Here they landed, and to their astonishment\nlearned that certain Trojan exiles, who had been carried there as\nprisoners, had become rulers of the country. Andromache, the widow\nof Hector, became the wife of one of the victorious Grecian\nchiefs, to whom she bore a son. Her husband dying, she was left\nregent of the country, as guardian of her son, and had married a\nfellow-captive, Helenus, of the royal race of Troy. Helenus and\nAndromache treated the exiles with the utmost hospitality, and\ndismissed them loaded with gifts.\n\nFrom hence Aeneas coasted along the shore of Sicily and passed the\ncountry of the Cyclopes. Here they were hailed from the shore by a\nmiserable object, whom by his garments, tattered as they were,\nthey perceived to be a Greek. He told them he was one of Ulysses's\ncompanions, left behind by that chief in his hurried departure. He\nrelated the story of Ulysses's adventure with Polyphemus, and\nbesought them to take him off with them as he had no means of\nsustaining his existence where he was but wild berries and roots,\nand lived in constant fear of the Cyclopes. While he spoke\nPolyphemus made his appearance; a terrible monster, shapeless,\nvast, whose only eye had been put out. [Footnote: See Proverbial\nExpressions.] He walked with cautious steps, feeling his way with\na staff, down to the sea-side, to wash his eye-socket in the\nwaves. When he reached the water, he waded out towards them, and\nhis immense height enabled him to advance far into the sea, so\nthat the Trojans, in terror, took to their oars to get out of his\nway. Hearing 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 them\nout 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 the\nnavigators were wholly intent upon avoiding Charybdis. Aeneas,\nfollowing the advice of Helenus, shunned the dangerous pass and\ncoasted 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, for\nshe could not forget the slight that Paris had put upon her, in\nawarding the prize of beauty to another. In heavenly minds can\nsuch resentments dwell. [Footnote: See Proverbial Expressions.]\nAccordingly she hastened to Aeolus, the ruler of the winds,--the\nsame who supplied Ulysses with favoring gales, giving him the\ncontrary ones tied up in a bag. Aeolus obeyed the goddess and sent\nforth his sons, Boreas, Typhon, and the other winds, to toss the\nocean. A terrible storm ensued and the Trojan ships were driven\nout of their course towards the coast of Africa. They were in\nimminent danger of being wrecked, and were separated, so that\nAeneas thought that all were lost except 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 clouds\nfrom before the face of the sun. Some of the ships which had got\non the rocks he pried off with his own trident, while Triton and a\nsea-nymph, putting their shoulders under others, set them afloat\nagain. The Trojans, when the sea became calm, sought the nearest\nshore, which was the coast of Carthage, where Aeneas was so happy\nas to find that one by one the ships all arrived safe, though\nbadly 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\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. Dido\nwas the daughter of Belus, king of Tyre, and sister of Pygmalion,\nwho succeeded his father on the throne. Her husband was Sichaeus,\na man of immense wealth, but Pygmalion, who coveted his treasures,\ncaused him to be put to death. Dido, with a numerous body of\nfriends and followers, both men and women, succeeded in effecting\ntheir escape from Tyre, in several vessels, carrying with them the\ntreasures of Sichaeus. On arriving at the spot which they selected\nas the seat of their future home, they asked of the natives only\nso much land as they could enclose with a bull's hide. When this\nwas readily granted, she caused the hide to be cut into strips,\nand with them enclosed a spot on which she built a citadel, and\ncalled it Byrsa (a hide). Around this fort the city of Carthage\nrose, and soon became a powerful and flourishing place.\n\nSuch was the state of affairs when Aeneas with his Trojans arrived\nthere. Dido received the illustrious exiles with friendliness and\nhospitality. \"Not unacquainted with distress,\" she said, \"I have\nlearned to succor the unfortunate.\" [Footnote: See Proverbial\nExpressions.] The queen's hospitality displayed itself in\nfestivities at which games of strength and skill were exhibited.\nThe strangers contended for the palm with her own subjects, on\nequal terms, the queen declaring that whether the victor were\n\"Trojan or Tyrian should make no difference to her.\" [Footnote 1:\nSee Proverbial Expressions.] At the feast which followed the\ngames, Aeneas gave at her request a recital of the closing events\nof the Trojan history and his own adventures after the fall of the\ncity. Dido was charmed with his discourse and filled with\nadmiration of his exploits. She conceived an ardent passion for\nhim, 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 its\nshores were alike forgotten. Seeing which, Jupiter despatched\nMercury with a message to Aeneas recalling him to a sense of his\nhigh destiny, and commanding him to resume his voyage.\n\nAeneas parted from Dido, though she tried every allurement and\npersuasion to detain him. The blow to her affection and her pride\nwas too much for her to endure, and when she found that he was\ngone, she mounted a funeral pile which she had caused to be\nerected, and having stabbed herself was consumed with the pile.\nThe flames rising over the city were seen by the departing\nTrojans, and, though the cause was unknown, gave to Aeneas some\nintimation of the fatal event.\n\nThe following epigram we find in \"Elegant Extracts\":\n\nFROM 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\nPALINURUS\n\nAfter touching at the island of Sicily, where Acestes, a prince of\nTrojan lineage, bore sway, who gave them a hospitable reception,\nthe Trojans re-embarked, and held on their course for Italy. Venus\nnow interceded with Neptune to allow her son at last to attain the\nwished-for goal and find an end of his perils on the deep. Neptune\nconsented, stipulating only for one life as a ransom for the rest.\nThe victim was Palinurus, the pilot. As he sat watching the stars,\nwith his hand on the helm, Somnus sent by Neptune approached in\nthe guise of Phorbas and said: \"Palinurus, the breeze is fair, the\nwater smooth, and the ship sails steadily on her course. Lie down\nawhile and take needful rest. I will stand at the helm in your\nplace.\" Palinurus replied, \"Tell me not of smooth seas or favoring\nwinds,--me who have seen so much of their treachery. Shall I\ntrust Aeneas to the chances of the weather and the winds?\" And he\ncontinued to grasp the helm and to keep his eyes fixed on the\nstars. But Somnus waved over him a branch moistened with Lethaean\ndew, and his eyes closed in spite of all his efforts. Then Somnus\npushed him overboard and he fell; but keeping his hold upon the\nhelm, it came away with him. Neptune was mindful of his promise\nand kept the ship on her track without helm or pilot, till Aeneas\ndiscovered his loss, and, sorrowing deeply for his faithful\nsteersman, took charge of the ship himself.\n\nThere is a beautiful allusion to the story of Palinurus in Scott's\n\"Marmion,\" Introduction to Canto I., where the poet, speaking of\nthe recent death of William Pitt, says:\n\n    \"O, 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 and\nDiana. While Aeneas contemplated the scene, the Sibyl accosted\nhim. She seemed to know his errand, and under the influence of the\ndeity of the place, burst forth in a prophetic strain, giving dark\nintimations of labors and perils through which he was destined to\nmake his way to final success. She closed with the encouraging\nwords which have become proverbial: \"Yield not to disasters, but\npress onward the more bravely.\" [Footnote: See Proverbial\nExpressions.] Aeneas replied that he had prepared himself for\nwhatever might await him. He had but one request to make. Having\nbeen directed in a dream to seek the abode of the dead in order to\nconfer with his father, Anchises, to receive from him a revelation\nof his future fortunes and those of his race, he asked her\nassistance to enable him to accomplish the task. The Sibyl\nreplied, \"The descent to Avernus is easy: the gate of Pluto stands\nopen night and day; but to retrace one's steps and return to the\nupper air, that is the toil, that the difficulty.\"[Footnote: See\nProverbial Expressions.] She instructed him to seek in the forest\na tree on which grew a golden branch. This branch was to be\nplucked off and borne as a gift to Proserpine, and if fate was\npropitious it would yield to the hand and quit its parent trunk,\nbut otherwise no force could rend it away. If torn away, another\nwould succeed.[Footnote: See Proverbial Expressions.]\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\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXII\n\nTHE INFERNAL REGIONS--THE SIBYL\n\nTHE INFERNAL REGIONS\n\n\nAs at the commencement of our series we have given the pagan\naccount of the creation of the world, so as we approach its\nconclusion we present a view of the regions of the dead, depicted\nby one of their most enlightened poets, who drew his doctrines\nfrom their most esteemed philosophers. The region where Virgil\nlocates the entrance to this abode is perhaps the most strikingly\nadapted to excite ideas of the terrific and preternatural of any\non the face 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 with\na gloomy forest. Mephitic vapors rise from its waters, so that no\nlife is found on its banks, and no birds fly over it. Here,\naccording to the poet, was the cave which afforded access to the\ninfernal regions, and here Aeneas offered sacrifices to the\ninfernal 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 hell they passed through a group of beings\nwho are enumerated as 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 up\nwith a bloody fillet. Here also were the monsters, Briareus, with\nhis hundred arms, Hydras hissing, and Chimaeras breathing fire.\nAeneas shuddered at the sight, drew his sword and would have\nstruck, but the Sibyl restrained him. They then came to the black\nriver Cocytus, where they found the ferryman, Charon, old and\nsqualid, but strong and vigorous, who was receiving passengers of\nall kinds into his boat, magnanimous heroes, boys and unmarried\ngirls, as numerous as the leaves that fall at autumn, or the\nflocks that fly southward at the approach of winter. They stood\npressing for a passage and longing to touch the opposite shore.\nBut the stern ferryman took in only such as he chose, driving the\nrest back. Aeneas, wondering at the sight, asked the Sibyl, \"Why\nthis discrimination?\" She answered, \"Those who are taken on board\nthe bark are the souls of those who have received due burial\nrites; the host of others who have remained unburied are not\npermitted to pass the flood, but wander a hundred years, and flit\nto and fro about the shore, till at last they are taken over.\"\nAeneas grieved at recollecting some of his own companions who had\nperished in the storm. At that moment he beheld Palinurus, his\npilot, who fell overboard and was drowned. He addressed him and\nasked him the cause of his misfortune. Palinurus replied that the\nrudder was carried away, and he, clinging to it, was swept away\nwith it. He besought Aeneas most urgently to extend to him his\nhand and take him in company to the opposite shore. But the Sibyl\nrebuked him for the wish thus to transgress the laws of Pluto; but\nconsoled him by informing him that the people of the shore where\nhis body had been wafted by the waves should be stirred up by\nprodigies to give it due burial, and that the promontory should\nbear the name of Cape Palinurus, which it does to this day.\nLeaving Palinurus consoled by these words, they approached the\nboat. Charon, fixing his eyes sternly upon the advancing warrior,\ndemanded by what right he, living and armed, approached that\nshore. To which the Sibyl replied that they would commit no\nviolence, that Aeneas's only object was to see his father, and\nfinally exhibited the golden branch, at sight of which Charon's\nwrath relaxed, and he made haste to turn his bark to the shore,\nand receive them on board. The boat, adapted only to the light\nfreight of bodiless spirits, groaned under the weight of the hero.\nThey were soon conveyed to the opposite shore. There they were\nencountered by the three-headed dog, Cerberus, with his necks\nbristling with snakes. He barked with all his three throats till\nthe Sibyl threw him a medicated cake which he eagerly devoured,\nand then stretched himself out in his den and fell asleep. Aeneas\nand the Sibyl sprang to land. The first sound that struck their\nears was the wailing of young children, who had died on the\nthreshold of life, and near to these were they who had perished\nunder false charges. Minos presides over them as judge, and\nexamines the deeds of each. The next class was of those who had\ndied by their own hand, hating life and seeking refuge in death. O\nhow willingly would they now endure poverty, labor, and any other\ninfliction, if they might but return to life! Next were situated\nthe regions of sadness, divided off into retired paths, leading\nthrough groves of myrtle. Here roamed those who had fallen victims\nto unrequited love, not freed from pain even by death itself.\nAmong these, Aeneas thought he descried the form of Dido, with a\nwound still recent. In the dim light he was for a moment\nuncertain, but approaching, perceived it was indeed herself. Tears\nfell from his eyes, and he addressed her in the accents of love.\n\"Unhappy Dido! was then the rumor true that you had perished? and\nwas I, alas! the cause? I call the gods to witness that my\ndeparture from you was reluctant, and in obedience to the commands\nof Jove; nor could I believe that my absence would cost you so\ndear. Stop, I beseech you, and refuse me not a last farewell.\" She\nstood for a moment with averted countenance, and eyes fixed on the\nground, and then silently passed on, as insensible to his\npleadings as a rock. Aeneas followed for some distance; then, with\na heavy heart, rejoined his companion and resumed his route.\n\nThey next entered the fields where roam the heroes who have fallen\nin battle. Here they saw many shades of Grecian and Trojan\nwarriors. The Trojans thronged around him, and could not be\nsatisfied with the sight. They asked the cause of his coming, and\nplied him with innumerable questions. But the Greeks, at the sight\nof his armor glittering through the murky atmosphere, recognized\nthe hero, and filled with terror turned their backs and fled, as\nthey used to do 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 him\nwas the gate of adamant that neither gods nor men can break\nthrough. An iron tower stood by the gate, on which Tisiphone, the\navenging Fury, kept guard. From the city were heard groans, and\nthe sound of the scourge, the creaking of iron, and the clanking\nof chains. Aeneas, horror-struck, inquired of his guide what\ncrimes were those whose punishments produced the sounds he heard?\nThe Sibyl answered, \"Here is the judgment hall of Rhadamanthus,\nwho brings to light crimes done in life, which the perpetrator\nvainly thought impenetrably hid. Tisiphone applies her whip of\nscorpions, and delivers the offender over to her sister Furies.\"\nAt this moment with horrid clang the brazen gates unfolded, and\nAeneas saw within a Hydra with fifty heads guarding the entrance.\nThe Sibyl told him that the gulf of Tartarus descended deep, so\nthat its recesses were as far beneath their feet as heaven was\nhigh above their heads. In the bottom of this pit, the Titan race,\nwho warred against the gods, lie prostrate; Salmoneus, also, who\npresumed to vie with Jupiter, and built a bridge of brass over\nwhich he drove his chariot that the sound might resemble thunder,\nlaunching flaming brands at his people in imitation of lightning,\ntill Jupiter struck him with a real thunderbolt, and taught him\nthe difference between mortal weapons and divine. Here, also, is\nTityus, the giant, whose form is so immense that as he lies he\nstretches over nine acres, while a vulture preys upon his liver,\nwhich as fast as it is devoured grows again, so that his\npunishment 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 lips\nas fast as they prepared to taste them. Others beheld suspended\nover their heads huge rocks, threatening to fall, keeping them in\na state of constant alarm. These were they who had hated their\nbrothers, or struck their parents, or defrauded the friends who\ntrusted them, or who, having grown rich, kept their money to\nthemselves, and gave no share to others; the last being the most\nnumerous class. Here also were those who had violated the marriage\nvow, or fought in a bad cause, or failed in fidelity to their\nemployers. Here was one who had sold his country for gold, another\nwho perverted the laws, making them say one thing to-day and\nanother to-morrow.\n\nIxion was there, fastened to the circumference of a wheel\nceaselessly revolving; and Sisyphus, whose task was to roll a huge\nstone up to a hill-top, but when the steep was well-nigh gained,\nthe rock, repulsed by some sudden force, rushed again headlong\ndown to the plain. Again he toiled at it, while the sweat bathed\nall his weary limbs, but all to no effect. There was Tantalus, who\nstood in a pool, his chin level with the water, yet he was parched\nwith thirst, and found nothing to assuage it; for when he bowed\nhis hoary head, eager to quaff, the water fled away, leaving the\nground at his feet all dry. Tall trees laden with fruit stooped\ntheir heads to him, pears, pomegranates, apples, and luscious\nfigs; but when with a sudden grasp he tried to seize them winds\nwhirled 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 has\na 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, magnanimous\nheroes who lived in happier times. He gazed with admiration on the\nwar chariots and glittering arms now reposing in disuse. Spears\nstood fixed in the ground, and the horses, unharnessed, roamed\nover the plain. The same pride in splendid armor and generous\nsteeds which the old heroes felt in life, accompanied them here.\nHe saw another group feasting and listening to the strains of\nmusic. They were in a laurel grove, whence the great river Po has\nits origin, and flows out among men. Here dwelt those who fell by\nwounds received in their country's cause, holy priests also, and\npoets who have uttered thoughts worthy of Apollo, and others who\nhave contributed to cheer and adorn life by their discoveries in\nthe useful arts, and have made their memory blessed by rendering\nservice to mankind. They wore snow-white fillets about their\nbrows. The Sibyl addressed a group of these, and inquired where\nAnchises was to be found. They were directed where to seek him,\nand soon found him in a verdant valley, where he was contemplating\nthe ranks of his posterity, their destinies and worthy deeds to be\nachieved in coming times. When he recognized Aeneas approaching,\nhe stretched out both hands to him, while tears flowed freely.\n\"Have you come at last,\" said he, \"long expected, and do I behold\nyou after such perils past? O my son, how have I trembled for you\nas I have watched your career!\" To which Aeneas replied, \"O\nfather! your image was always before me to guide and guard me.\"\nThen he endeavored to enfold his father in his embrace, but his\narms enclosed 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 they\ndwell on Lethe's bank, and drink oblivion of their former lives.\"\n\"O father!\" said Aeneas, \"is it possible that any can be so in\nlove with life as to wish to leave these tranquil seats for the\nupper world?\" Anchises replied by explaining the plan of creation.\nThe Creator, he told him, originally made the material of which\nsouls are composed of the four elements, fire, air, earth, and\nwater, all which when united took the form of the most excellent\npart, fire, and became FLAME. This material was scattered like\nseed among the heavenly bodies, the sun, moon, and stars. Of this\nseed the inferior gods created man and all other animals, mingling\nit with various proportions of earth, by which its purity was\nalloyed and reduced. Thus, the more earth predominates in the\ncomposition the less pure is the individual; and we see men and\nwomen with their full-grown bodies have not the purity of\nchildhood. So in proportion to the time which the union of body\nand soul has lasted is the impurity contracted by the spiritual\npart. This impurity must be purged away after death, which is done\nby ventilating the souls in the current of winds, or merging them\nin water, or burning out their impurities by fire. Some few, of\nwhom Anchises intimates that he is one, are admitted at once to\nElysium, there to remain. But the rest, after the impurities of\nearth are purged away, are sent back to life endowed with new\nbodies, having had the remembrance of their former lives\neffectually washed away by the waters of Lethe. Some, however,\nthere still are, so thoroughly corrupted, that they are not fit to\nbe intrusted with human bodies, and these are made into brute\nanimals, lions, tigers, cats, dogs, monkeys, etc. This is what the\nancients called Metempsychosis, or the transmigration of souls; a\ndoctrine which is still held by the natives of India, who scruple\nto destroy the life even of the most insignificant animal, not\nknowing but it may be one of their relations 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, and\nto relate to him the exploits they should perform in the world.\nAfter this he reverted to the present, and told his son of the\nevents that remained to him to be accomplished before the complete\nestablishment of himself and his followers in Italy. Wars were to\nbe waged, battles fought, a bride to be won, and in the result a\nTrojan state founded, from which should rise the Roman power, to\nbe in time the sovereign of the world.\n\nAeneas and the Sibyl then took leave of Anchises, and returned by\nsome short cut, which the poet does not explain, to the upper\nworld.\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 describes 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 of\nRhadamanthus. The Elysium of Hesiod and Pindar is in the Isles of\nthe Blessed, or Fortunate Islands, in the Western Ocean. From\nthese 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 had\ncaught a glimpse of the coast of America.\n\nJ. R. Lowell, in one of his shorter poems, claims for the present\nage some of the privileges of that happy realm. Addressing the\nPast, 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 also alludes to the same fable in \"Paradise Lost,\" Book\nIII, 1. 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 to\nthe 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\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 of 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, and\nwill myself bring offerings.\" \"I am no goddess,\" said the Sibyl;\n\"I have no claim to sacrifice or offering. I am mortal; yet if I\ncould have accepted the love of Apollo I might have been immortal.\nHe promised me the fulfilment of my wish, if I would consent to be\nhis. I took a handful of sand, and holding it forth, said, 'Grant\nme to see as many birthdays as there are sand grains in my hand.'\nUnluckily I forgot to ask for enduring youth. This also he would\nhave granted, could I have accepted his love, but offended at my\nrefusal, he allowed me to grow old. My youth and youthful strength\nfled long ago. I have lived seven hundred years, and to equal the\nnumber of the sand grains I have still to see three hundred\nsprings and three hundred harvests. My body shrinks up as years\nincrease, and in time, I shall be lost to sight, but my voice will\nremain, and future ages will respect 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 the\nreign 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\noccasions, consulted them and interpreted their oracles to the\npeople.\n\nThere were various Sibyls; but the Cumaean Sibyl, of whom Ovid and\nVirgil write, is the most celebrated of them. Ovid's story of her\nlife protracted to one thousand years may be intended to represent\nthe various Sibyls as being only reappearances of one and the same\nindividual.\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\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIII\n\nCAMILLA--EVANDER--NISUS AND EURYALUS--MEZENTIUS--TURNUS\n\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, having brought his hero to this spot, the\ndestined termination of his wanderings, invokes his Muse to tell\nhim the situation of things at that eventful moment. Latinus,\nthird in descent from Saturn, ruled the country. He was now old\nand had no male descendant, but had one charming daughter,\nLavinia, who was sought in marriage by many neighboring chiefs,\none of whom, Turnus, king of the Rutulians, was favored by the\nwishes of her parents. But Latinus had been warned in a dream by\nhis father Faunus, that the destined husband of Lavinia should\ncome from a foreign land. From that union should spring a race\ndestined 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 dire\nsufferings. In particular she predicted that before their\nwanderings ceased they should be pressed by hunger to devour their\ntables. This portent now came true; for as they took their scanty\nmeal, seated on the grass, the men placed their hard biscuit on\ntheir laps, and put thereon whatever their gleanings in the woods\nsupplied. Having despatched the latter they finished by eating the\ncrusts. Seeing which, the boy Iulus said playfully, \"See, we are\neating our tables.\" Aeneas caught the words and accepted the omen.\n\"All hail, promised land!\" he exclaimed, \"this is our home, this\nour country.\" He then took measures to find out who were the\npresent inhabitants of the land, and who their rulers. A hundred\nchosen men were sent to the village of Latinus, bearing presents\nand a request for friendship and alliance. They went and were\nfavorably received. Latinus immediately concluded that the Trojan\nhero was no other than the promised son-in-law announced by the\noracle. He cheerfully granted his alliance and sent back the\nmessengers mounted on steeds from his stables, and loaded with\ngifts and friendly messages.\n\nJuno, seeing things go thus prosperously for the Trojans, felt her\nold animosity revive, summoned Alecto from Erebus, and sent her to\nstir up discord. The Fury first took possession of the queen,\nAmata, and roused her to oppose in every way the new alliance.\nAlecto then speeded to the city of Turnus, and assuming the form\nof an old priestess, informed him of the arrival of the foreigners\nand of the attempts of their prince to rob him of his bride. Next\nshe turned her attention to the camp of the Trojans. There she saw\nthe boy Iulus and his companions amusing themselves with hunting.\nShe sharpened the scent of the dogs, and led them to rouse up from\nthe thicket a tame stag, the favorite of Silvia, the daughter of\nTyrrheus, the king's herdsman. A javelin from the hand of Iulus\nwounded the animal, and he had only strength left to run\nhomewards, and died at his mistress's feet. Her cries and tears\nroused her brothers and the herdsmen, and they, seizing whatever\nweapons came to hand, furiously assaulted the hunting party. These\nwere protected by their friends, and the herdsmen were finally\ndriven back with the loss of two of their number.\n\nThese things were enough to rouse the storm of war, and the queen,\nTurnus, and the peasants all urged the old king to drive the\nstrangers from the country. He resisted as long as he could, but,\nfinding his opposition unavailing, finally gave way and retreated\nto his retirement.\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 solemn\npomp to open the gates of the temple of Janus, which were kept\nshut as long as peace endured. His people now urged the old king\nto perform that solemn office, but he refused to do so. While they\ncontested, Juno herself, descending from the skies, smote the\ndoors with irresistible force, and burst them open. Immediately\nthe whole country was in a flame. The people rushed from every\nside 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\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 of\nwar, and in speed to outstrip the wind. It seemed as if she might\nrun 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, driven\nfrom his city by civil discord, carried with him in his flight his\ninfant daughter. As he fled through the woods, his enemies in hot\npursuit, he reached the bank of the river Amazenus, which, swelled\nby rains, seemed to debar a passage. He paused for a moment, then\ndecided what to do. He tied the infant to his lance with wrappers\nof bark, and poising the weapon in his upraised hand thus\naddressed Diana: \"Goddess of the woods! I consecrate this maid to\nyou;\" then hurled the weapon with its burden to the opposite bank.\nThe spear flew across the roaring water. His pursuers were already\nupon him, but he plunged into the river and swam across, and found\nthe spear, with the infant safe on the other side. Thenceforth he\nlived among the shepherds and brought up his daughter in woodland\narts. While a child she was taught to use the bow and throw the\njavelin. With her sling she could bring down the crane or the wild\nswan. Her dress was a tiger's skin. Many mothers sought her for a\ndaughter-in-law, but she continued faithful to Diana and repelled\nthe thought of marriage.\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 of\nthe river under the open heavens. The god of the stream, Father\nTiber, seemed to raise his head above the willows and to say, \"O\ngoddess-born, destined possessor of the Latin realms, this is the\npromised land, here is to be your home, here shall terminate the\nhostility of the heavenly powers, if only you faithfully\npersevere. There are friends not far distant. Prepare your boats\nand row up my stream; I will lead you to Evander, the Arcadian\nchief, he has long been at strife with Turnus and the Rutulians,\nand is prepared to become an ally of yours. Rise! offer your vows\nto Juno, and deprecate her anger. When you have achieved your\nvictory then think of me.\" Aeneas woke and paid immediate\nobedience to the friendly vision. He sacrificed to Juno, and\ninvoked the god of the river and all his tributary fountains to\nlend their aid. Then for the first time a vessel filled with armed\nwarriors floated on the stream of the Tiber. The river smoothed\nits waves, and bade its current flow gently, while, impelled by\nthe vigorous strokes of the rowers, the vessels shot rapidly up\nthe 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 tall\nship gliding onward near the wood, they were alarmed at the sight,\nand rose from the tables. But Pallas forbade the solemnities to be\ninterrupted, and seizing a weapon, stepped forward to the river's\nbank. He called aloud, demanding who they were, and what their\nobject. Aeneas, holding forth an olive-branch, replied, \"We are\nTrojans, friends to you, and enemies to the Rutulians. We seek\nEvander, and offer to join our arms with yours.\" Pallas, in amaze\nat the sound of so great a name, invited them to land, and when\nAeneas touched the shore he seized his hand, and held it long in\nfriendly grasp. Proceeding through the wood, they joined the king\nand his party and were most favorably received. Seats were\nprovided for them at the tables, and the repast proceeded.\n\nINFANT ROME\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 with delight looked and\nlistened, observing all the beauties of the scene, and learning\nmuch of heroes renowned in ancient times. Evander said, \"These\nextensive groves were once inhabited by fauns and nymphs, and a\nrude race of men who sprang from the trees themselves, and had\nneither laws nor social culture. They knew not how to yoke the\ncattle nor raise a harvest, nor provide from present abundance for\nfuture want; but browsed like beasts upon the leafy boughs, or fed\nvoraciously on their hunted prey. Such were they when Saturn,\nexpelled from Olympus by his sons, came among them and drew\ntogether the fierce savages, formed them into society, and gave\nthem laws. Such peace and plenty ensued that men ever since have\ncalled his reign the golden age; but by degrees far other times\nsucceeded, and the thirst of gold and the thirst of blood\nprevailed. The land was a prey to successive tyrants, till fortune\nand resistless destiny brought me hither, an exile from my native\nland, 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 the\ncottage of poor Evander, whence they saw the lowing herds roaming\nover the plain where now the proud and stately Forum stands. They\nentered, and a couch was spread for Aeneas, well stuffed with\nleaves, and covered with the skin of a 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 a\ntunic, and a panther's skin thrown over his shoulders, with\nsandals on his feet and his good sword girded to his side, he went\nforth to seek his guest. Two mastiffs followed him, his whole\nretinue and body guard. He found the hero attended by his faithful\nAchates, and, Pallas soon joining them, the old king spoke 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, on\nthe 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 his\npalace and slew his friends. He escaped and took refuge with\nTurnus, who protects him with arms. The Etruscans demand that he\nshall be given up to deserved punishment, and would ere now have\nattempted to enforce their demand; but their priests restrain\nthem, telling them that it is the will of heaven that no native of\nthe land shall guide them to victory, and that thsir destined\nleader must come from across the sea. They have offered the crown\nto me, but I am too old to undertake such great affairs, and my\nson is native-born, which precludes him from the choice. You,\nequally by birth and time of life, and fame in arms, pointed out\nby the gods, have but to appear to be hailed at once as their\nleader. With you I will join Pallas, my son, my only hope and\ncomfort. Under you he shall learn the art of war, and strive to\nemulate 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,\n[Footnote: The poet here inserts a famous line which is thought to\nimitate in its sound the galloping of horses. It may be thus\ntranslated--\"Then struck the hoofs of the steeds on the ground\nwith a four-footed trampling.\"--See Proverbial Expressions.]\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 and his countrymen.\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 into the field. Night coming on, the army\nof Turnus, in high spirits at their fancied superiority, feasted\nand enjoyed themselves, and finally stretched themselves on the\nfield 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 and\nfine qualities, was with him. These two were friends and brothers\nin arms. Nisus said to his friend, \"Do you perceive what\nconfidence and carelessness the enemy display? Their lights are\nfew and dim, and the men seem all oppressed with wine or sleep.\nYou know how anxiously our chiefs wish to send to Aeneas, and to\nget intelligence from him. Now, I am strongly moved to make my way\nthrough the enemy's camp and to go in search of our chief. If I\nsucceed, the glory of the deed will be reward enough for me, and\nif they judge the service deserves anything more, let them pay it\nto 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 father\nbrought me up, nor so have I planned for myself when I joined the\nstandard of Aeneas, and resolved to hold my life cheap in\ncomparison with honor.\" Nisus replied, \"I doubt it not, my friend;\nbut you know the uncertain event of such an undertaking, and\nwhatever may happen to me, I wish you to be safe. You are younger\nthan I and have more of life in prospect. Nor can I be the cause\nof such grief to your mother, who has chosen to be here in the\ncamp with you rather than stay and live in peace with the other\nmatrons in Acestes' city.\" Euryalus replied, \"Say no more. In vain\nyou seek arguments to dissuade me. I am fixed in the resolution to\ngo with you. Let us lose no time.\" They called the guard, and\ncommitting the watch to them, sought the general's tent. They\nfound the chief officers in consultation, deliberating how they\nshould send notice to Aeneas of their situation. The offer of the\ntwo friends was gladly accepted, themselves loaded with praises\nand promised the most liberal rewards in case of success. Iulus\nespecially addressed Euryalus, assuring him of his lasting\nfriendship. Euryalus replied, \"I have but one boon to ask. My aged\nmother is with me in the camp. For me she left the Trojan soil,\nand would not stay behind with the other matrons at the city of\nAcestes. I go now without taking leave of her. I could not bear\nher tears nor set at nought her entreaties. But do thou, I beseech\nyou, comfort 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. In\none tent Euryalus made prize of a helmet brilliant with gold and\nplumes. They had passed through the enemy's ranks without being\ndiscovered, but now suddenly appeared a troop directly in front of\nthem, which, under Volscens, their leader, were approaching the\ncamp. The glittering helmet of Euryalus caught their attention,\nand Volscens hailed the two, and demanded who and whence they\nwere. They made no answer, but plunged into the wood. The horsemen\nscattered in all directions to intercept their flight. Nisus had\neluded pursuit and was out of danger, but Euryalus being missing\nhe turned back to seek him. He again entered the wood and soon\ncame within sound of voices. Looking through the thicket he saw\nthe whole band surrounding Euryalus with noisy questions. What\nshould he do? how extricate the youth, or would it be better to\ndie 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 the\nleaders of the troop, struck him in the back and stretched him on\nthe plain with a death-blow. In the midst of their amazement\nanother weapon flew and another of the party fell dead. Volscens,\nthe leader, ignorant whence the darts came, rushed sword in hand\nupon Euryalus. \"You shall pay the penalty of both,\" he said, and\nwould have plunged the sword into his bosom, when Nisus, who from\nhis concealment saw the peril of his friend, rushed forward\nexclaiming, \"'Twas I, 'twas I; turn your swords against me,\nRutulians, I did it; he only followed me as a friend.\" While he\nspoke the sword fell, and pierced the comely bosom of Euryalus.\nHis head fell over on his shoulder, like a flower cut down by the\nplough. Nisus rushed upon Volscens and plunged his sword into his\nbody, and was himself slain on the instant by numberless blows.\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. We\ncannot find space for all the details, but must simply record the\nfate of the principal characters whom we have introduced to our\nreaders. The tyrant Mezentius, finding himself engaged against his\nrevolting subjects, raged like a wild beast. He slew all who dared\nto withstand him, and put the multitude to flight wherever he\nappeared. At last he encountered Aeneas, and the armies stood\nstill to see the issue. Mezentius threw his spear, which striking\nAeneas's shield glanced off and hit Anthor. He was a Grecian by\nbirth, who had left Argos, his native city, and followed Evander\ninto Italy. The poet says of him with simple pathos which has made\nthe words proverbial, \"He fell, unhappy, by a wound intended for\nanother, looked up at the skies, and dying remembered sweet\nArgos.\" [Footnote: See Proverbial Expressions.] Aeneas now in turn\nhurled his lance. It pierced the shield of Mezentius, and wounded\nhim in the thigh. Lausus, his son, could not bear the sight, but\nrushed forward and interposed himself, while the followers pressed\nround Mezentius and bore him away. Aeneas held his sword suspended\nover Lausus and delayed to strike, but the furious youth pressed\non and he was compelled to deal the fatal blow. Lausus fell, and\nAeneas bent over him in pity. \"Hapless youth,\" he said, \"what can\nI do for 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 riverside, 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. Having\nfound him, [Footnote: See Proverbial Expressions.] he rode round\nhim in a circle, throwing one javelin after another, while Aeneas\nstood fenced with his shield, turning every way to meet them. At\nlast, after Mezentius had three times made the circuit, Aeneas\nthrew his lance directly at the horse's head. It pierced his\ntemples and he fell, while a shout from both armies rent the\nskies. Mezentius asked no mercy, but only that his body might be\nspared the insults of his revolted subjects, and be buried in the\nsame grave with his son. He received the fatal stroke not\nunprepared, and poured out his life and his blood together.\n\nPALLAS, CAMILLA, TURNUS\n\nWhile these things were doing in one part of the field, in another\nTurnus encountered the youthful Pallas. The contest between\nchampions so unequally matched could not be doubtful. Pallas bore\nhimself bravely, but fell by the lance of Turnus. The victor\nalmost relented when he saw the brave youth lying dead at his\nfeet, and spared to use the privilege of a conqueror in despoiling\nhim of his arms. The belt only, adorned with studs and carvings of\ngold, he took and clasped round his own body. The rest he remitted\nto 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 of\nvalor surpassed those of the bravest warriors, and many Trojans\nand Etruscans fell pierced with her darts or struck down by her\nbattle-axe. At last an Etruscan named Aruns, who had watched her\nlong, seeking for some advantage, observed her pursuing a flying\nenemy whose splendid armor offered a tempting prize. Intent on the\nchase she observed not her danger, and the javelin of Aruns struck\nher and inflicted a fatal wound. She fell and breathed her last in\nthe arms of her attendant maidens. But Diana, who beheld her fate,\nsuffered not her slaughter to be unavenged. Aruns, as he stole\naway, glad, but frightened, was struck by a secret arrow, launched\nby one of the nymphs of Diana's train, and died ignobly and\nunknown.\n\nAt length the final conflict took place between Aeneas and Turnus.\nTurnus had avoided the contest as long as he could, but at last,\nimpelled by the ill success of his arms and by the murmurs of his\nfollowers, he braced himself to the conflict. It could not be\ndoubtful. On the side of Aeneas were the expressed decree of\ndestiny, the aid of his goddess-mother at every emergency, and\nimpenetrable armor fabricated by Vulcan, at her request, for her\nson. Turnus, on the other hand, was deserted by his celestial\nallies, Juno having been expressly forbidden by Jupiter to assist\nhim any longer. Turnus threw his lance, but it recoiled harmless\nfrom the shield of Aeneas. The Trojan hero then threw his, which\npenetrated the shield of Turnus, and pierced his thigh. Then\nTurnus's fortitude forsook him and he begged for mercy; and Aeneas\nwould have given him his life, but at the instant his eye fell on\nthe belt of Pallas, which Turnus had taken from the slaughtered\nyouth. Instantly his rage revived, and exclaiming, \"Pallas\nimmolates thee with this blow,\" he thrust him through with his\nsword.\n\nHere the poem of the \"Aeneid\" closes, and we are left to infer\nthat Aeneas, having triumphed over his foes, obtained Lavinia for\nhis bride. Tradition adds that he founded his city, and called it\nafter her name, Lavinium. His son Iulus founded Alba Longa, which\nwas the birthplace of Romulus and Remus and the cradle of Rome\nitself.\n\nThere is an allusion to Camilla in those well-known lines of Pope,\nin which, illustrating the rule that \"the sound should be an echo\nto 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' unbending corn or skims along the main.\"\n\n    --Essay on Criticism.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIV\n\nPYTHAGORAS--EGYPTIAN DEITIES--ORACLES\n\nPYTHAGORAS\n\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 five hundred and forty years B.C.)\nwas a native of the island of Samos, but passed the chief portion\nof his life at Crotona in Italy. He is therefore sometimes called\n\"the Samian,\" and sometimes \"the philosopher of Crotona.\" When\nyoung he travelled extensively, and it is said visited Egypt,\nwhere he was instructed by the priests in all their learning, and\nafterwards journeyed to the East, and visited the Persian and\nChaldean Magi, and the Brahmins of India.\n\nAt Crotona, where he finally established himself, his\nextraordinary 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 so\"\n(Ipse dixit), was to be held by them as sufficient, without any\nproof. It was only the advanced pupils, after years of patient\nsubmission, who were allowed to ask questions and to state\nobjections.\n\nPythagoras considered NUMBERS as the essence and principle of all\nthings, and attributed to them a real and distinct existence; so\nthat, in his view, they were the elements out of which the\nuniverse was constructed. How he conceived this process has never\nbeen satisfactorily explained. He traced the various forms and\nphenomena of the world to numbers as their basis and essence. The\n\"Monad\" or unit he regarded as the source of all numbers. The\nnumber Two was imperfect, and the cause of increase and division.\nThree was called the number of the whole because it had a\nbeginning, middle, and end. Four, representing the square, is in\nthe highest degree perfect; and Ten, as it contains the sum of the\nfour prime numbers, comprehends all musical and arithmetical\nproportions, and denotes the system of the world.\n\nAs the numbers proceed from 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 immortal,\nand when freed from the fetters of the body passes to the\nhabitation of the dead, where it remains till it returns to the\nworld, to dwell in some other human or animal body, and at last,\nwhen sufficiently purified, it returns to the source from which it\nproceeded. This doctrine of the transmigration of souls\n(metempsychosis), which was originally Egyptian and connected with\nthe doctrine of reward and punishment of human actions, was the\nchief cause why the Pythagoreans killed no animals. Ovid\nrepresents Pythagoras addressing his disciples in these words:\n\"Souls never die, but always on quitting one abode pass to\nanother. I myself can remember that in the time of the Trojan war\nI was Euphorbus, the son of Panthus, and fell by the spear of\nMenelaus. Lately being in the temple of Juno, at Argos, I\nrecognized my shield hung up there among the trophies. All things\nchange, nothing perishes. The soul passes hither and thither,\noccupying now this body, now that, passing from the body of a\nbeast into that of a man, and thence to a beast's again. As wax is\nstamped with certain figures, then melted, then stamped anew with\nothers, yet is always the same wax, so the soul, being always the\nsame, yet wears, at different times, different forms. Therefore,\nif the love of kindred is not extinct in your bosoms, forbear, I\nentreat you, to violate the life of those who may haply be your\nown relatives.\"\n\nShakspeare, 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, whereby\nharmony results from vibrations in equal times, and discord from\nthe reverse, led Pythagoras to apply the word \"harmony\" to the\nvisible creation, meaning by it the just adaptation of parts to\neach other. This is the idea which Dryden expresses in the\nbeginning 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 (he taught) there was a central\nfire, the principle of life. The central fire was surrounded by\nthe earth, the moon, the sun, and the five planets. The distances\nof the various heavenly bodies from one another were conceived to\ncorrespond to the proportions of the musical scale. The heavenly\nbodies, with the gods who inhabited them, were supposed to perform\na choral dance round the central fire, \"not without song.\" It is\nthis doctrine which Shakspeare alludes to when he makes Lorenzo\nteach astronomy to Jessica in this fashion:\n\n   \"Look, Jessica, see 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 his 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\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 which\nthey contain and carry round with them. But as these spheres\ncannot move on one another without friction, a sound is thereby\nproduced which is of exquisite harmony, too fine for mortal ears\nto recognize. Milton, in his \"Hymn on the Nativity,\" thus alludes\nto 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 ninefold harmony\n    Make up full concert with the angelic symphony.\"\n\nPythagoras is said to have invented the lyre. Our own poet\nLongfellow, in \"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    And formed the seven-chorded lyre.\"\n\nSee also the same poet's \"Occupation of Orion\"--\n\n   \"The Samian's great Aeolian lyre.\"\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. J. R. Lowell uses it in this sense in his\ncharming little poem \"To the Dandelion\":\n\n   \"Not in mid 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 Crotona.\nMany stories are told of Milo's vast strength, such as his\ncarrying a heifer of four years old upon his shoulders and\nafterwards eating the whole of it in a single day. The mode of his\ndeath is thus related: As he was passing through a forest he saw\nthe trunk of a tree which had been partially split open by wood-\ncutters, and attempted to rend it further; but the wood closed\nupon his hands and held him fast, in which state he was attacked\nand 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\nEGYPTIAN DEITIES\n\nThe Egyptians acknowledged as the highest deity Amun, afterwards\ncalled Zeus, or Jupiter Ammon. Amun manifested himself in his word\nor will, which created Kneph and Athor, of different sexes. From\nKneph and Athor proceeded Osiris and Isis. Osiris was worshipped\nas the god of the sun, the source of warmth, life, and\nfruitfulness, in addition to which he was also regarded as the god\nof the Nile, who annually visited his wife, Isis (the Earth), by\nmeans of an inundation. Serapis or Hermes is sometimes represented\nas identical with Osiris, and sometimes as a distinct divinity,\nthe ruler of Tartarus and god of medicine. Anubis is the guardian\ngod, represented with a dog's head, emblematic of his character of\nfidelity and watchfulness. Horus or Harpocrates was the son of\nOsiris. He is represented seated on a Lotus flower, with his\nfinger on 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 ever thus,--his only song\n      To Earth and Heaven, 'Hush all, hush!'\"\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 them\nfirst the use of wheat and barley, and Osiris made the instruments\nof agriculture and taught men the use of them, as well as how to\nharness the ox to the plough. He then gave men laws, the\ninstitution of marriage, a civil organization, and taught them how\nto worship the gods. After he had thus made the valley of the Nile\na happy country, he assembled a host with which he went to bestow\nhis blessings upon the rest of the world. He conquered the nations\neverywhere, but not with weapons, only with music and eloquence.\nHis brother Typhon saw this, and filled with envy and malice\nsought during his absence to usurp his throne. But Isis, who held\nthe reins of government, frustrated his plans. Still more\nembittered, he now resolved to kill his brother. This he did in\nthe following manner: Having organized a conspiracy of seventy-two\nmembers, he went with them to the feast which was celebrated in\nhonor of the king's return. He then caused a box or chest to be\nbrought in, which had been made to fit exactly the size of Osiris,\nand declared that he wouldd would give that chest of precious wood\nto whosoever could get into it. The rest tried in vain, but no\nsooner was Osiris in it than Typhon and his companions closed the\nlid and flung the chest into the Nile. When Isis heard of the\ncruel murder she wept and mourned, and then with her hair shorn,\nclothed in black and beating her breast, she sought diligently for\nthe body of her husband. In this search she was materially\nassisted by Anubis, the son of Osiris and Nephthys. They sought in\nvain for some time; for when the chest, carried by the waves to\nthe shores of Byblos, had become entangled in the reeds that grew\nat the edge of the water, the divine power that dwelt in the body\nof Osiris imparted such strength to the shrub that it grew into a\nmighty tree, enclosing in its trunk the coffin of the god. This\ntree with its sacred deposit was shortly after felled, and erected\nas a column in the palace of the king of Phoenicia. But at length\nby the aid of Anubis and the sacred birds, Isis ascertained these\nfacts, and then went to the royal city. There she offered herself\nat the palace as a servant, and being admitted, threw off her\ndisguise and appeared as a 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 Philae, 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 after\nthat the tutelar deity of the Egyptians. His soul was supposed\nalways to inhabit the body of the bull Apis, and at his death to\ntransfer itself to his successor.\n\nApis, the Bull of Memphis, was worshipped with the greatest\nreverence by the Egyptians. The individual animal who was held to\nbe Apis was recognized by certain signs. It was requisite that he\nshould be quite black, have a white square mark on the forehead,\nanother, in the form of an eagle, on his back, and under his\ntongue a lump somewhat in the shape of a scarabaeus or beetle. As\nsoon as a bull thus marked was found by those sent in search of\nhim, he was placed in a building facing the east, and was fed with\nmilk for four months. At the expiration of this term the priests\nrepaired at new moon, with great pomp, to his habitation and\nsaluted him Apis. He was placed in a vessel magnificently\ndecorated and conveyed down the Nile to Memphis, where a temple,\nwith two chapels and a court for exercise, was assigned to him.\nSacrifices were made to him, and once every year, about the time\nwhen the Nile began to rise, a golden cup was thrown into the\nriver, and a grand festival was held to celebrate his birthday.\nThe people believed that during this festival the crocodiles\nforgot their natural ferocity and became harmless. There was,\nhowever, one drawback to his happy lot: he was not permitted to\nlive beyond a certain period, and if, when he had attained the age\nof twenty-five years, he still survived, the priests drowned him\nin the sacred cistern and then buried him in the temple of\nSerapis. On the death of this bull, whether it occurred in the\ncourse of nature or by violence, the whole land was filled with\nsorrow and lamentations, which lasted until his successor was\nfound.\n\nWe find the following item in one of the newspapers of the day:\n\n\"The Tomb of Apis.--The excavations going on at Memphis bid fair\nto make that buried city as interesting as Pompeii. The monster\ntomb of Apis is now open, after having lain unknown for\ncenturies.\"\n\nMilton, in his \"Hymn on 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 god 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-stole sorcerers bear his worshipped ark.\"\n\n[Footnote: There being no rain in Egypt, the grass is\n\"unshowered,\" and the country depend for its fertility upon the\noverflowings of the Nile. The ark alluded to in the last line is\nshown by pictures still remaining on the walls of the Egyptian\ntemples to have been borne by the priests in their religious\nprocessions. It probably represented the chest in which Osiris was\nplaced.]\n\nIsis was represinted in statuary with the head veiled, a symbol of\nmystery. It is this which Tennyson alludes to in \"Maud,\" IV., 8:\n\n\"For the drift of the Maker is dark, an Isis hid by the veil,\"\netc.\n\nORACLES Oracle was the name used to denote the place where answers\nwere supposed 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 they\nwere not doves, but priestesses, who were carried off from Thebes\nin Egypt by the Phoenicians, and set up oracles at the Oasis and\nDodona. The responses of the oracle were given from the trees, by\nthe branches rustling in the wind, the sounds being interpreted by\nthe 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 feeding\non Parnassus were thrown into convulsions when they approached a\ncertain long deep cleft in the side of the mountain. This was\nowing to a peculiar vapor arising out of the cavern, and one of\nthe 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\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\narchitects, and built the temple of Apollo at Delphi, and a\ntreasury for King Hyrieus. In the wall of the treasury they placed\na stone, in such a manner that it could be taken out; and by this\nmeans, from time to time, purloined the treasure. This amazed\nHyrieus, for his locks and seals were untouched, and yet his\nwealth continually diminished. At length he set a trap for the\nthief and Agamedes was caught. Trophonias, unable to extricate\nhim, and fearing that when found he would be compelled by torture\nto discover his accomplice, cut off his head. Trophonius himself\nis said to have been shortly afterwards swallowed up by the earth.\n\nThe oracle of Trophonius was at Lebadea in Boeotia. During a great\ndrought the Boeotians, it is said, were directed by the god at\nDelphi to seek aid of Trophonius at Lebadea. They came thither,\nbut could find no pracle. One of them, however, happening to see a\nswarm of bees, followed them to a chasm in the earth, which proved\nto be the place sought.\n\nPeculiar ceremonies were to be performed by the person who came to\nconsult the oracle. After these preliminaries, he descended into\nthe cave by a narrow passage. This place could be entered only in\nthe night. The person returned from the cave by the same narrow\npassage, bat walking backwards. He appeared melancholy and\ndefected; and hence the proverb which was applied to a person low-\nspirited and gloomy, \"He has been consulting the oracle of\nTrophonius.\"\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 recovery of their health by sleeping in the temple. It has\nbeen inferred from the accounts that have come down to us that the\ntreatment of the sick resembled what is now called Animal\nMagnetism 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\nORACLE OF APIS\n\nAt Memphis the sacred bull Apis gave answer to those who consulted\nhim by the manner in which he received or rejected what was\npresented to him. If the bull refused food from the hand of the\ninquirer it was considered an unfavorable sign, and the contrary\nwhen 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. A\nthird 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 after\nthat date. Milton adopts, this view in his \"Hymn on the Mativity,\"\nand 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 heaving.\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 the\nfable of Castor and Pollux; the latter is more appropriate to our\npresent 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, as theirs the fabled Twins\n    Now stars; twor lobes protruding, paired exact;\n    A leaf succeede and another leaf,\n    And, all the elements thy puny growth\n    Fostering propitious, thou becam'st a twig.\n    Who lived  when thou wast such? Of 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; etc.\n\nByron alludes to the oracle of Delphi where, speaking of Rousseau,\nwhose writings he conceives did much to bring on the French\nrevolution, he says:\n\n    \"For the, 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\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXV\n\nORIGIN OF MYTHOLOGY--STATUES OF GODS AND GODDESSES--POETS OF\nMYTHOLOGY\n\nORIGINS OF MYTHOLOGY\n\n\nHaving reached the close of our series of stories of Pagan\nmythology, and inquiry suggests itself. \"Whence came these\nstories? Have they a foundation in truth or are they simply dreams\nof the imagination?\" Philosophers have suggested various theories\non the subject; and 1. The Scriptural theory; according to which\nall mythological legends are derived from the narratives of\nScripture, though the real facts have been disguised and altered.\nThus Deucalion is only another name for Noah, Hercules for Samson,\nArion for Jonah, etc. Sir Walter Raleigh, in his \"History of the\nWorld,\" says, \"Jubal, Tubal, and Tubal-Cain were Mercury, Vulcan,\nand Apollo, inventors of Pasturage, Smithing, and Music. The\nDragon which kept the golden apples was the serpent that beguiled\nEve. Nimrod'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 fact\nan emigrant from Phoenicia, and brought with him into Greece the\nknowledge of the letters of the alphabet, which he taught to the\nnatives. From these rudiments of learning sprung civilization,\nwhich the poets have always been prone to describe as a\ndeterioration of man's first estate, the Golden Age of innocence\nand 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, under\nthe 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 Cronos (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 sleepless\nwatch over her. The fabulous wanderings of Io represent the\ncontinual revolutions of the moon, which also suggested to Milton\nthe 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\n    --Il Penseroso.\n\n4. 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, wild brood\n    Of gamesome deities; or Pan himself,\n    That simple shepherd's awe-inspiring god.\"\n\nAll the theories which have been 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 arisen 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\nSTATUES OF THE GODS\n\nTo adequately represent to the eye the ideas intended to be\nconveyed to the mind under the several names of deities was a task\nwhich called into exercise the highest powers of genius and art.\nOf the many attempts FOUR have been most celebrated, the first two\nknown to us only by the descriptions of the ancients, the others\nstill extant and the acknowledged masterpieces of the sculptor's\nart.\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 parts\nrepresenting flesh being of ivory laid on a core of wood or stone,\nwhile the drapery and other ornaments were of gold. The height of\nthe figure was forty feet, on a pedestal twelve feet high. The god\nwas represented seated on his throne. His brows were crowned with\na wreath of olive, and he held in his right hand a sceptre, and in\nhis left a statue of Victory. The throne was of cedar, adorned\nwith 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    And all Olympus to the centre shook.\"\n\n[Footnote: Cowper's version is less elegant, but truer to the\noriginal:\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\nTHE MINERVA OF THE PARTHENON\n\nThis was also the work of Phidias. It stood in the Parthenon, or\ntemple of Minerva at Athens. The goddess was represented standing.\nIn one hand she held a spear, in the other a statue of Victory.\nHer helmet, highly decorated, was surmounted by a Sphinx. The\nstatue was forty feet in height, and, like the Jupiter, composed\nof ivory and gold. The eyes were of marble, and probably painted\nto represent the iris and pupil. The Parthenon, in which this\nstatue stood, was also constructed under the direction and\nsuperintendence of Phidias. Its exterior was enriched with\nsculptures, many of them from the hand of Phidias. The Elgin\nmarbles, 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 and\nbusts, the artist's conceptions of the countenances of both. They\nare characterized by grave and dignified beauty, and freedom from\nany transient expression, which in the language of art is called\nrepose.\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 public\nauthority to make a statue exhibiting the perfection of female\nbeauty, and to aid him in his task the most perfect forms the city\ncould supply were furnished him for models. It is this which\nThomson 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;\" etc.\n\nAnd in the next stanza,\n\n   \"Blood, pulse, and breast confirm the Dardan shepherd's prize.\"\n\nSee this last allusion explained in Chapter XXVII.\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 was placed.\nThe artist is unknown. It is supposed to be a work of Roman art,\nof about the first century of our era. It is a standing figure, in\nmarble, more than seven feet high, naked except for the cloak\nwhich is fastened around the neck and hangs over the extended left\narm. It is supposed to represent the god in the moment when he has\nshot the arrow to destroy the monster Python. (See Chapter III.)\nThe victorious divinity is in the act of stepping forward. The\nleft arm, which seems to have held the bow, is outstretched, and\nthe head is turned in the same direction. In attitude and\nproportion the graceful majesty of the figure is unsurpassed. The\neffect is completed by the countenance, where on the perfection of\nyouthful godlike beauty there dwells the consciousness of\ntriumphant power.\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, though\nby no means equal to the Apollo. The attitude is that of hurried\nand eager motion, the face that of a huntress in the excitement of\nthe chase. The left hand is extended over the forehead of the\nHind, which runs by her side, the right arm reaches backward over\nthe shoulder to draw an arrow from the quiver.\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 of\nthe Grecians, is almost as mythical a personage as the heroes he\ncelebrates. The traditionary story is that he was a wandering\nminstrel, blind and old, who travelled from place to place singing\nhis lays to the music of his harp, in the courts of princes or the\ncottages of peasants, and dependent upon the voluntary offerings\nof his hearers for support. Byron calls him \"The blind old man of\nScio's rocky isle,\" and a well-known epigram, alluding to the\nuncertainty of the fact of his birthplace, says:\n\n   \"Seven wealthy towns contend for Homer dead,\n    Through which the living Homer begged his bread.\"\n\nThese seven were Smyrna, Scio, Rhodes, Colophon, Salamis, Argos,\nand 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 productions\nwere yet introduced into use. On the other hand it is asked how\npoems of such length could have been handed down from age to age\nby means of the memory alone. This is answered by the statement\nthat there was a professional body of men, called Rhapsodists, who\nrecited the poems of others, and whose business it was to commit\nto memory and rehearse for pay the national 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 additions\nby other hands.\n\nThe date assigned to Homer, on the authority of Herodotus, is 850\nB.C.\n\nVIRGIL\n\nVirgil, called also by his surname, Maro, from whose poem of the\n\"Aeneid\" 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 in\nMantua in the year 70 B.C. His great poem is ranked next to those\nof Homer, in the highest class of poetical composition, the Epic.\nVirgil is far inferior to Homer in originality and invention, but\nsuperior to him in correctness and elegance. To critics of English\nlineage Milton alone of modern poets seems worthy to be classed\nwith these illustrious ancients. His poem of \"Paradise Lost,\" from\nwhich we have borrowed so many illustrations, is in many respects\nequal, in some superior, to either of the great works of\nantiquity. The following epigram of Dryden characterizes the three\npoets with as much truth as it is usual to find in such pointed\ncriticism:\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\nOVID\n\nOvid, often alluded to in poetry by his other name of Naso, was\nborn in the year 43 B.C. He was educated for public life and held\nsome offices of considerable dignity, but poetry was his delight,\nand he early resolved to devote himself to it. He accordingly\nsought the society of the contemporary poets, and was acquainted\nwith Horace and saw Virgil, though the latter died when Ovid was\nyet too 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 emperor,\nand it is supposed that some serious offence given to some member\nof that family was the cause of an event which reversed the poet's\nhappy circumstances and clouded all the latter portion of his\nlife. At the age of fifty he was banished from Rome, and ordered\nto betake himself to Tomi, on the borders of the Black Sea. Here,\namong the barbarous people and in a severe climate, the poet, who\nhad been accustomed to all the pleasures of a luxurious capital\nand the society of his most distinguished contemporaries, spent\nthe last ten years of his life, worn out with grief and anxiety.\nHis only consolation in exile was to address his wife and absent\nfriends, and his letters were all poetical. Though these poems\n(the \"Trista\" and \"Letters from Pontus\") have no other topic than\nthe poet's sorrows, his exquisite taste and fruitful invention\nhave redeemed them from the charge of being tedious, and they are\nread with pleasure and even with sympathy.\n\nThe two great works of Ovid are his \"Metamorphoses\" and his\n\"Fasti.\" They are both mythological poems, and from the former we\nhave taken most of our stories of Grecian and Roman mythology. A\nlate writer thus characterizes these poems:\n\n\"The rich mythology of Greece furnished Ovid, as it may still\nfurnish the poet, the painter, and the sculptor, with materials\nfor his art. With exquisite taste, simplicity, and pathos he has\nnarrated the fabulous traditions of early ages, and given to them\nthat appearance of reality which only a master hand could impart.\nHis pictures of nature are striking and true; he selects with care\nthat which is appropriate; he rejects the superfluous; and when he\nhas completed his work, it is neither defective nor redundant. The\n'Metamorphoses' are read with pleasure by youth, and are re-read\nin more advanced age with still greater delight. The poet ventured\nto predict that his poem would survive him, and be read wherever\nthe Roman name was known.\"\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    And snatch the remnant of my life away,\n    My better part above the stars shall soar,\n    And my renown endure forevermore.\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\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVI\n\nMODERN MONSTERS--THE PHOENIX--BASILISK--UNICORN--SALAMANDER\n\nMODERN MONSTERS\n\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. We\nseek 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\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 not\nlive 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 gained\nsufficient strength, it lifts its nest from the tree (its own\ncradle and its parent's sepulchre), and carries it to the city of\nHeliopolis in Egypt, and deposits it in the temple of the Sun.\"\n\nSuch is the account given by a poet. Now let us see that of a\nphilosophic historian. Tacitus says, \"In the consulship of Paulus\nFabius (A.D. 34) the miraculous bird known to the world by the\nname of the 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 of\nthe bird, not varying materially from the preceding, but adding\nsome details. \"The first care of the young bird as soon as\nfledged, 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\nin 1646. He was replied to a few years later by Alexander Ross,\nwho says, in answer to the objection of the Phoenix so seldom\nmaking his appearance, \"His instinct teaches him to keep out of\nthe way of the tyrant of the creation, MAN, for if he were to be\ngot at, some wealthy glutton would surely devour him, though there\nwere no more in the world.\"\n\nDryden in one of his early poems has this allusion to the Phoenix:\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\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 was\nimmediately followed by death. In Shakspeare's play of \"Richard\nthe Third,\" Lady Anne, in answer to Richard's compliment on her\neyes, says, \"Would they were basilisk's, to strike thee dead!\"\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 heard\nthe distant hiss of their king, although they might be in full\nfeed upon the most delicious prey, leaving the sole enjoyment of\nthe 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 formerly 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\nbasilisk. He immediately raised his eyes to heaven, and with a\npious appeal to 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 some\nrue, which was the only plant the basilisks could not wither,\nreturned with renewed strength and soundness to the charge, and\nnever left the enemy till he was stretched dead on the plain. The\nmonster, too, as if conscious of the irregular way in which he\ncame into the world, was supposed to have a great antipathy to a\ncock; and well he might, for as soon as he heard the cock crow he\nexpired.\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 we can imagine his anxiety to know what a\ncockatrice was like. The following is from Aldrovandus, a\ncelebrated naturalist of the sixteenth century, whose work on\nnatural history, in thirteen folio volumes, contains with much\nthat is valuable a large proportion of fables and inutilities. In\nparticular he is so ample on the subject of the cock and the bull\nthat from his practice, all rambling, gossiping tales of doubtful\ncredibility are called COCK AND BULL STORIES. Aldrovandus,\nhowever, deserves our respect and esteem as the founder of a\nbotanic garden, and as a pioneer in the now prevalent custom of\nmaking scientific collections for purposes of investigation and\nresearch.\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 hounds!\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\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 elephant,\nthe tail of a boar, a deep, bellowing voice, and a single black\nhorn, two cubits in length, standing out in the middle of its\nforehead.\" He adds that \"it cannot be taken alive;\" and some such\nexcuse may have been necessary in those days for not producing the\nliving animal upon the arena of the amphitheatre.\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 movable at the will of the animal, a kind of\nsmall sword, in short, with which no 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 giraffe;\nbut this also is short and blunt, and is not the only horn of the\nanimal, but a third horn, standing in front of the two others. In\nfine, though it would be presumptuous to deny the existence of a\none-horned quadruped other than the rhinoceros, it may be safely\nstated that the insertion of a long and solid horn in the living\nforehead of a horse-like or deer-like animal is as near an\nimpossibility as anything can be.\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 was\nboth 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 he\nsees the flame charges it as an enemy which he well knows how to\nvanquish.\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 skin of\nsalamanders (for there really is such an animal, a kind of lizard)\nwas incombustible, and very valuable for wrapping up such articles\nas were too precious to be intrusted to any other envelopes. These\nfire-proof cloths were actually produced, said to be made of\nsalamander's wool, though the knowing ones detected that the\nsubstance of which they were composed was asbestos, a mineral,\nwhich is in fine filaments capable of being woven into a flexible\ncloth.\n\nThe foundation of the above fables is supposed to be the fact that\nthe salamander really does secrete from the pores of his body a\nmilky 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 in\nwinter retires to some hollow tree or other cavity, where it coils\nitself up and remains in a torpid state till the spring again\ncalls it forth. It may therefore sometimes be carried with the\nfuel to the fire, and wake up only time enough to put forth all\nits faculties for its defence. Its viscous juice would do good\nservice, and all who profess to have seen it, acknowledge that it\ngot out of the fire as fast as its legs could carry it; indeed,\ntoo 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 its\nbody 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   \"O, 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\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVII\n\nEASTERN MYTHOLOGY--ZOROASTER--HINDU MYTHOLOGY--CASTES--BUDDHA--\nGRAND LAMA\n\nZOROASTER\n\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 the\nreformer 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 the\nMacedonian monarchy the doctrines of Zoroaster appear to have been\nconsiderably corrupted by the introduction of foreign opinions,\nbut they afterwards recovered their ascendency.\n\nZoroaster taught the existence of a supreme being, who created two\nother mighty beings and imparted to them as much of his own nature\nas seemed good to him. Of these, Ormuzd (called by the Greeks\nOromasdes) remained faithful to his creator, and was regarded as\nthe source of all good, while Ahriman (Arimanes) rebelled, and\nbecame the author of all evil upon the earth. Ormuzd created man\nand supplied him with all the materials of happiness; but Ahriman\nmarred this happiness by introducing evil into the world, and\ncreating savage beasts and poisonous reptiles and plants. In\nconsequence of this, evil and good are now mingled together in\nevery part of the world, and the followers of good and evil--the\nadherents of Ormuzd and Ahriman--carry on incessant war. But this\nstate of things will not last forever. The time will come when the\nadherents of Ormuzd shall everywhere be victorious, and Ahriman\nand his followers be consigned to darkness 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 with\nastrology and enchantment, in which they were so celebrated that\ntheir name was applied to all orders of magicians and enchanters.\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\n    --Excursion, Book IV.\n\nIn \"Childe Harold\" Byron speaks thus of the Persian worship:\n\n   \"Not vainly did the early Persian make\n    His altar the high places and the peak\n    Of earth-o'er-gazing 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\nIII., 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 their\nancient faith. Those who refused to abandon the religion of their\nancestors fled to the deserts of Kerman and to Hindustan, where\nthey still exist under the name of Parsees, a name derived from\nPars, the ancient name of Persia. The Arabs call them Guebers,\nfrom an Arabic word signifying unbelievers. At Bombay the Parsees\nare at this day a very active, intelligent, and wealthy class. For\npurity of life, honesty, and conciliatory manners, they are\nfavorably distinguished. They have numerous temples to Fire, which\nthey 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 morn 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 Iran 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\nHINDU MYTHOLOGY\n\nThe religion of the Hindus is professedly founded on the Vedas. To\nthese books of their scripture they attach the greatest sanctity,\nand state that Brahma himself composed them at the creation. But\nthe present arrangement of the Vedas is attributed to the sage\nVyasa, 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. Yama, 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 the\nfire.\n\nVISHNU\n\nVishnu occupies the second place in the triad of the Hindus, and\nis the personification of the preserving principle. To protect the\nworld in various epochs of danger, Vishnu descended to the earth\nin different incarnations, or bodily forms, which descents are\ncalled Avatars. They are very numerous, but ten are more\nparticularly specified. The first Avatar was as Matsya, the Fish,\nunder which form Vishnu preserved Manu, the ancestor of the human\nrace, during a universal deluge. The second Avatar was in the form\nof a Tortoise, which form he assumed to support the earth when the\ngods were churning the sea for the beverage of immortality,\nAmrita.\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 as\na 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 appear\nat the end of the present age of the world to destroy all vice and\nwickedness, and to restore mankind to virtue and purity.\n\nSIVA\n\nSiva is the third person of the Hindu triad. He is the\npersonification of the destroying principle. Though the third\nname, 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; that\npower not being to be called into exercise till after the\nexpiration of twelve millions of years, or when the universe will\ncome to an end; 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\nJUGGERNAUT\n\nWhether the worshippers of Juggernaut are to be reckoned among the\nfollowers of Vishnu or Siva, our authorities differ. The temple\nstands near the shore, about three hundred miles south-west of\nCalcutta. The idol is a carved block of wood, with a hideous face,\npainted black, and a distended blood-red mouth. On festival days\nthe throne of the image is placed on a tower sixty feet high,\nmoving on wheels. Six long ropes are attached to the tower, by\nwhich the people draw it along. The priests and their attendants\nstand round the throne on the tower, and occasionally turn to the\nworshippers with songs and gestures. While the tower moves along\nnumbers of the devout worshippers throw themselves on the ground,\nin order to be crushed by the wheels, and the multitude shout in\napprobation of the act, as a pleasing sacrifice to the idol. Every\nyear, particularly at two great festivals in March and July,\npilgrims flock in crowds to the temple. Not less than seventy or\neighty thousand people are said to visit the place on these\noccasions, when all castes eat together.\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 to\nthe 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 as\ncontaining 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 were\nin former times in exclusive possession of all knowledge. Though\nthe sovereign of the country was chosen from the Shatriya class,\nalso called Rajputs, the Brahmans possessed the real power, and\nwere the royal counsellors, the judges and magistrates of the\ncountry; their persons and property were inviolable; and though\nthey committed the greatest crimes, they could only be banished\nfrom the kingdom. They were to be treated by sovereigns with the\ngreatest respect, for \"a Brahman, whether learned or ignorant, is\na 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 could\nnot be maintained by the working classes of the community, it was\nfound necessary to allow them to engage in productive employments.\n\nWe need say little of the two intermediate classes, whose rank and\nprivileges may be readily inferred from their occupations. The\nSudras 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 unauthorized\nunion of individuals of different castes. These are the Pariahs,\nwho are employed in the lowest services and treated with the\nutmost severity. They are compelled to do what no one else can do\nwithout pollution. They are not only considered unclean\nthemselves, but they render unclean everything they touch. They\nare deprived of all civil rights, and stigmatized by particular\nlaws regulating their mode of life, their houses, and their\nfurniture. They are not allowed to visit the pagodas or temples of\nthe other castes, but have their own pagodas and religious\nexercises. They are not suffered to enter the houses of the other\ncastes; if it is done incautiously or from necessity, the place\nmust be purified by religious ceremonies. They must not appear at\npublic markets, and are confined to the use of particular wells,\nwhich they are obliged to surround with bones of animals, to warn\nothers against using them. They dwell in miserable hovels, distant\nfrom cities and villages, and are under no restrictions in regard\nto food, which last is not a privilege, but a mark of ignominy, as\nif they were so degraded that nothing could pollute them. The\nthree higher castes are prohibited entirely the use of flesh. The\nfourth is allowed to use all kinds except beef, but only the\nlowest caste is allowed every kind of food without restriction.\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, whose\nname was Gautama, called also by the complimentary epithets of\nSakyasinha, the Lion, and Buddha, the Sage.\n\nBy a comparison of the various epochs assigned to his birth, it is\ninferred 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 head\nas a presage of the future greatness of the new-born prophet. The\nchild soon developed faculties of the first order, and became\nequally distinguished by the uncommon beauty of his person. No\nsooner had he grown to years of maturity than he began to reflect\ndeeply on the depravity and misery of mankind, and he conceived\nthe idea of retiring from society and devoting himself to\nmeditation. His father in vain opposed this design. Buddha escaped\nthe vigilance of his guards, and having found a secure retreat,\nlived for six years undisturbed in his devout contemplations. At\nthe expiration of that period he came forward at Benares as a\nreligious teacher. At first some who heard him doubted of the\nsoundness of his mind; but his doctrines soon gained credit, and\nwere propagated so rapidly that Buddha himself lived to see them\nspread all over India. He 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 chosen\nfrom all classes; they are expected to procure their maintenance\nby perambulation and begging, and among other things it is their\nduty to endeavor to turn to some use things thrown aside as\nuseless by others, and to discover the medicinal power of plants.\nBut in Ceylon three orders of priests are recognized; those of the\nhighest order are usually men of high birth and learning, and are\nsupported at the principal temples, most of which have been richly\nendowed by the former monarchs of the country.\n\nFor several centuries after the appearance of Buddha, his sect\nseems to have been tolerated by the Brahmans, and Buddhism appears\nto have penetrated the peninsula of Hindustan in every direction,\nand to have been carried to Ceylon, and to the eastern peninsula.\nBut afterwards it had to endure in India a long-continued\npersecution, which ultimately had the effect of entirely\nabolishing it in the country where it had originated, but to\nscatter it widely over adjacent countries. Buddhism appears to\nhave been introduced into China about the year 65 of our era. From\nChina it was subsequently extended to Corea, Japan, and Java.\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 emanation\nof the divine spirit, in a human body, is a state of misery, and\nthe consequence of frailties and sins committed during former\nexistences. But they hold that some few individuals have appeared\non this earth from time to time, not under the necessity of\nterrestrial existence, but who voluntarily descended to the earth\nto promote the welfare of mankind. These individuals have\ngradually assumed the character of reappearances of Buddha\nhimself, in which capacity the line is continued till the present\nday, in the several Lamas of Thibet, China, and other countries\nwhere Buddhism prevails. In consequence of the victories of Gengis\nKhan and his successors, the Lama residing in Thibet was raised to\nthe dignity of chief pontiff of the sect. A separate province was\nassigned to him as his own territory, and besides his spiritual\ndignity he became to a limited extent a temporal monarch. He is\nstyled 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 of\nthese practices from the Nestorian Christians, who were settled in\nTartary when Buddhism was introduced into Thibet.\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 mission\nin search of him, as did also Louis IX. of France, some years\nlater, but both missions were unsuccessful, though the small\ncommunities of Nestorian Christians, which they did find, served\nto keep up the belief in Europe that such a personage did exist\nsomewhere in the East. At last in the fifteenth century, a\nPortuguese traveller, Pedro Covilham, happening to hear that there\nwas a Christian prince in the country of the Abessines\n(Abyssinia), not far from the Red Sea, concluded that this must be\nthe true Prester John. He accordingly went thither, and penetrated\nto the court of the king, whom he calls Negus. Milton alludes to\nhim in \"Paradise Lost,\" Book XI., where, describing Adam's vision\nof his descendants in their various nations and cities, scattered\nover the face of the earth, he says,--\n\n    \"... Nor did his eyes not ken\n     Th' empire of Negus, to his utmost port,\n     Ercoco, and the less maritime kings,\n     Mombaza and Quiloa and Melind.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVIII\n\nNORTHERN MYTHOLOGY--VALHALLA--THE VALKYRIOR\n\nNORTHERN MYTHOLOGY\n\n\nThe stories which have engaged our attention thus far relate to\nthe mythology of southern regions. But there is another branch of\nancient superstitions which ought not to be entirely overlooked,\nespecially as it belongs to the nations from which we, through our\nEnglish ancestors, derive our origin. It is that of the northern\nnations, called Scandinavians, who inhabited the countries now\nknown as Sweden, Denmark, Norway, and Iceland. These mythological\nrecords are contained in two collections called the Eddas, of\nwhich the oldest is in poetry and dates back to the year 1056, the\nmore modern or prose Edda being of the date 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 over another, the great deep was filled\nup.\n\nSouthward from the world of mist was the world of light. From this\nflowed a warm wind upon the ice and melted it. The vapors rose in\nthe air and formed clouds, from which sprang Ymir, the Frost giant\nand his progeny, and the cow Audhumbla, whose milk afforded\nnourishment and food to the giant. The cow got nourishment by\nlicking the hoar frost and salt from the ice. While she was one\nday licking the salt stones there appeared at first the hair of a\nman, on the second day the whole head, and on the third the entire\nform endowed with beauty, agility, and power. This new being was a\ngod, from whom and his wife, a daughter of the giant race, sprang\nthe three brothers Odin, Vili, and Ve. They slew the giant Ymir,\nand out of his body formed the earth, of his blood the seas, of\nhis bones the mountains, of his hair the trees, of his skull the\nheavens, and of his brain clouds, charged with hail and snow. Of\nYmir's eyebrows the gods formed Midgard (mid earth), destined to\nbecome 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 them\ntheir respective courses. As soon as the sun began to shed its\nrays 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 they\nmade a woman out of an elder, and called the man Aske and the\nwoman Embla. Odin then gave them life and soul, Vili reason and\nmotion, and Ve bestowed upon them the senses, expressive features,\nand speech. Midgard was then given them as their residence, and\nthey became the progenitors of the human race.\n\nThe mighty ash tree Ygdrasill 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 each\nof these roots is a spring, from which it is watered. The root\nthat extends into Asgard is carefully tended by the three Norns,\ngoddesses, who are regarded as the dispensers of fate. They are\nUrdur (the past), Verdandi (the present), Skuld (the future). The\nspring at the Jotunheim side is Ymir's well, in which wisdom and\nwit lie hidden, but that of Niffleheim feeds the adder Nidhogge\n(darkness), which perpetually gnaws at the root. Four harts run\nacross the branches of the tree and bite the buds; they represent\nthe four winds. Under the tree lies Ymir, and when he tries to\nshake 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). Asgard\nconsists of golden and silver palaces, the dwellings of the gods,\nbut the most beautiful of these is Valhalla, the residence of\nOdin. When seated on his throne he overlooks all heaven and earth.\nUpon his shoulders are the ravens Hugin and Munin, who fly every\nday over the whole world, and on their return report to him all\nthey have seen and heard. At his feet lie his two wolves, Geri and\nFreki, to whom Odin gives all the meat that is set before him, for\nhe himself stands in no need of food. Mead is for him both food\nand drink. He invented the Runic characters, and it is the\nbusiness of the Norns to engrave the runes of fate upon a metal\nshield. From Odin's name, spelt Woden, as it sometimes is, came\nWednesday, the name of the fourth day 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\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 again\nevery night. For drink the heroes are supplied abundantly with\nmead from the she-goat Heidrum. When the heroes are not feasting\nthey amuse themselves with fighting. Every day they ride out into\nthe court or field and fight until they cut each other in pieces.\nThis is their pastime; but when meal time comes they recover from\ntheir wounds and return to feast in Valhalla.\n\nTHE VALKYRIE\n\nThe Valkyrie are warlike virgins, mounted upon horses and armed\nwith helmets and spears. Odin, who is desirous to collect a great\nmany heroes in Valhalla to be able to meet the giants in a day\nwhen the final contest must come, sends down to every battle-field\nto make choice of those who shall be slain. The Valkyrie are his\nmessengers, and their name means \"Choosers of the slain.\" When\nthey ride forth on their errand, their armor sheds a strange\nflickering light, which flashes up over the northern skies, making\nwhat men call the \"Aurora Borealis,\" or \"Northern Lights.\"\n[Footnote: Gray's ode, \"The Fatal Sisters,\" is founded on this\nsuperstition.]\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 a\nhammer, which both the Frost and the Mountain giants know to their\ncost, when they see it hurled against them in the air, for it has\nsplit many a skull of their fathers and kindred. When thrown, it\nreturns to his hand of its own accord. The second rare thing he\npossesses is called the belt of strength. When he girds it about\nhim his divine might is doubled. The third, also very precious, is\nhis iron gloves, which he puts on whenever he would use his mallet\nefficiently. From Thor's name is derived our word Thursday.\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 would\ndo 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 to\nbecome 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 way\nover the bridge Bifrost (the rainbow). He requires less sleep than\na bird, and sees by night as well as by day a hundred miles around\nhim. So acute is his ear that no sound escapes him, for he can\neven hear the grass grow and the wool on a sheep's back.\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 and\nmost evil disposition. He is of the giant race, but forced himself\ninto the company of the gods, and seems to take pleasure in\nbringing them into difficulties, and in extricating them out of\nthe 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 into\nthat deep ocean by which the earth is surrounded. But the monster\nhad grown to such an enormous size that holding his tail in his\nmouth he encircles the whole earth. Hela he cast into Niffleheim,\nand gave her power over nine worlds or regions, into which she\ndistributes those who are sent to her; that is, all who die of\nsickness or old age. Her hall is called Elvidner. Hunger is her\ntable, Starvation her knife, Delay her man, Slowness her maid,\nPrecipice her threshold, Care her bed, and Burning Anguish forms\nthe hangings of the apartments. She may easily be recognized, for\nher body is half flesh color and half blue, and she has a\ndreadfully stern and forbidding countenance. The wolf Fenris gave\nthe gods a great deal of trouble before they succeeded in chaining\nhim. He broke the strongest fetters as if they were made of\ncobwebs. Finally the gods sent a messenger to the mountain\nspirits, who made for them the chain called Gleipnir. It is\nfashioned of six things, viz., the noise made by the footfall of a\ncat, the beards of women, the roots of stones, the breath of\nfishes, the nerves (sensibilities) of bears, and the spittle of\nbirds. When finished it was as smooth and soft as a silken string.\nBut when the gods asked the wolf to suffer himself to be bound\nwith this apparently slight ribbon, he suspected their design,\nfearing that it was made by enchantment. He therefore only\nconsented to be bound with it upon condition that one of the gods\nput his hand in his (Fenris's) mouth as a pledge that the band was\nto be removed again. Tyr (the god of battles) alone had courage\nenough to do this. But when the wolf found that he could not break\nhis fetters, and that the gods would not release him, he bit off\nTyr's hand, and he has ever since remained one-handed. HOW THOR\nPAID 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 gods\nyielded 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 of\nLoki was granted to him. He accordingly set to work on the first\nday of winter, and during the night let his horse draw stone for\nthe building. The enormous size of the stones struck the gods with\nastonishment, and they saw clearly that the horse did one-half\nmore of the toilsome work than his master. Their bargain, however,\nhad been concluded, and confirmed by solemn oaths, for without\nthese precautions a giant would not have thought himself safe\namong the gods, especially when Thor should return from an\nexpedition he had then undertaken against the evil demons.\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 in\nhis fright promised upon oath that, let it cost him 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. The\nhorse thereat broke loose and ran after the mare into the forest,\nwhich obliged the man also to run after his horse, and thus\nbetween one and another the whole night was lost, so that at dawn\nthe work had not made the usual progress. The man, seeing that he\nmust fail of completing his task, resumed his own gigantic\nstature, and the gods now clearly perceived that it was in reality\na mountain giant who had come amongst them. Feeling no longer\nbound by their oaths, they called on Thor, who immediately ran to\ntheir assistance, and lifting up his mallet, paid the workman his\nwages, not with the sun and moon, and not even by sending him back\nto Jotunheim, for with the first blow he shattered the giant's\nskull to pieces and hurled him headlong into Niffleheim.\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 Loki\npersuaded Thor to dress himself in Freya's clothes and accompany\nhim to Jotunheim. Thrym received his veiled bride with due\ncourtesy, but was greatly surprised at seeing her eat for her\nsupper eight salmons and a full grown ox, besides other\ndelicacies, washing the whole down with three tuns of mead. Loki,\nhowever, assured him that she had not tasted anything for eight\nlong nights, so great was her desire to see her lover, the\nrenowned ruler of Jotunheim. Thrym had at length the curiosity to\npeep 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 hammer\nto be brought in and laid on the maiden's lap. Thereupon Thor\nthrew off his disguise, grasped his redoubted weapon, and\nslaughtered Thrym 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 him\nthe sword, and Skirnir set off on his journey and obtained the\nmaiden'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\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIX\n\nTHOR'S VISIT TO JOTUNHEIM\n\nTHOR'S VISIT TO JOTUNHEIM, THE GIANT'S COUNTRY\n\n\nOne day the god Thor, with his servant Thialfi, and accompanied by\nLoki, set out on a journey to the giant's country. Thialfi was of\nall men the swiftest of foot. He bore Thor's wallet, containing\ntheir provisions. When night came on they found themselves in an\nimmense forest, and searched on all sides for a place where they\nmight pass the night, and at last came to a very large hall, with\nan entrance that took the whole breadth of one end of the\nbuilding. Here they lay down to sleep, but towards midnight were\nalarmed by an earthquake which shook the whole edifice. Thor,\nrising up, called on his companions to seek with him a place of\nsafety. On the right they found an adjoining chamber, into which\nthe others entered, but Thor remained at the doorway with his\nmallet in his hand, prepared to defend himself, whatever might\nhappen. A terrible groaning was heard during the night, and at\ndawn of day Thor went out and found lying near him a huge giant,\nwho slept and snored in the way that had alarmed them so. It is\nsaid that for once Thor was afraid to use his mallet, and as the\ngiant soon waked up, Thor contented himself with simply asking his\nname.\n\n\"My name is Skrymir,\" said the giant, \"but I need not ask thy\nname, for I know that thou art the god Thor. 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 they\ntravelled the whole day, and at dusk Skrymir chose a place for\nthem to pass the night in under a large oak tree. Skrymir then\ntold them he would lie down to sleep. \"But take ye the wallet,\" he\nadded, \"and prepare your supper.\"\n\nSkrymir soon fell asleep and began to snore strongly; but when\nThor tried to open the wallet, he found the giant had tied it up\nso tight he could not untie a single knot. At last Thor became\nwroth, and grasping his mallet with both hands he struck a furious\nblow on the giant's head. Skrymir, awakening, merely asked whether\na leaf had not fallen on his head, and whether they had supped and\nwere ready to go to sleep. Thor answered that they were just going\nto sleep, 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 reechoed 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 this\ntree? I felt some moss from the branches fall on my head. How\nfares it with thee, Thor?\" But Thor went away hastily, saying that\nhe had just then awoke, and that as it was only midnight, there\nwas still time for sleep. He, however, resolved that if he had an\nopportunity of striking a third blow, it should settle all matters\nbetween them. A little before daybreak he perceived that Skrymir\nwas again fast asleep, and again grasping his mallet, he dashed it\nwith such violence that it forced its way into the giant's skull\nup to the handle. But Skrymir sat up, and stroking his cheek said,\n\"An acorn fell on my head. What! Art thou awake, Thor? Me thinks\nit is time for us to get up and dress ourselves; but you have not\nnow a long way before you to the city called Utgard. I have heard\nyou whispering to one another that I am not a man of small\ndimensions; but if you come to Utgard you will see there many men\nmuch taller than I. Wherefore, I advise you, when you come there,\nnot to make too much of yourselves, for the followers of Utgard--\nLoki will not brook the boasting of such little fellows as you\nare. You must take the road that leads eastward, mine lies\nnorthward, so we must part 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 lofty\nthat they were obliged to bend their necks quite back on their\nshoulders in order to see to the top of it. On arriving they\nentered the city, and seeing a large palace before them with the\ndoor wide open, they went in, and found a number of men of\nprodigious stature, sitting on benches in the hall. Going further,\nthey came before the king, Utgard-Loki, whom they saluted with\ngreat respect. The king, regarding them with a scornful smile,\nsaid, \"If I do not mistake me, that stripling yonder must be the\ngod Thor.\" Then addressing himself to Thor, he said, \"Perhaps thou\nmayst be more than thou appearest to be. What are the feats that\nthou and thy fellows deem yourselves skilled in, for no one is\npermitted to remain here who does not, in some feat or other,\nexcel all other men?\"\n\n\"The feat that I know,\" said Loki, \"is to eat quicker than any one\nelse, and in this I am ready to give a proof against any one here\nwho 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 his\nskill with Loki. A trough filled with meat having been set on the\nhall floor, Loki placed himself at one end, and Logi at the other,\nand each of them began to eat as fast as he could, until they met\nin the middle of the trough. But it was found that Loki had only\neaten the flesh, while his adversary had devoured both flesh and\nbone, and the trough to boot. All the company therefore adjudged\nthat 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 with\nany one who might be matched against him. The king observed that\nskill in running was something to boast of, but if the youth would\nwin the match he must display great agility. He then arose and\nwent with all who were present to a plain where there was good\nground for running on, and calling a young man named Hugi, bade\nhim run a match with Thialfi. In the first course Hugi so much\nout-stripped his competitor that he turned back and met him not\nfar from the starting place. Then they ran a second and a third\ntime, but Thialfi met with no better success.\n\nUtgard-Loki then asked Thor in what feats he would choose to give\nproofs of that prowess for which he was so famous. Thor answered\nthat he would try a drinking-match with any one. Utgard-Loki bade\nhis cup-bearer bring the large horn which his followers were\nobliged to empty when they had trespassed in any way against the\nlaw of the feast. The cupbearer having presented it to Thor,\nUtgard-Loki said, \"Whoever is a good drinker will empty that horn\nat a single draught, though most men make two of it, but the most\npuny drinker 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, but\nwhen he took the horn from his mouth, it seemed to him that he had\ndrunk rather less than before, although the horn could now be\ncarried 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 cup-bearer.\n\n\"I now see plainly,\" said Utgard-Loki, \"that thou art not quite so\nstout as we thought thee: but wilt thou try any other feat, though\nmethinks thou art not likely to bear any prize away with thee\nhence.\"\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 lifting\nmy cat from the ground; nor should I have dared to mention such a\nfeat to the great Thor if I had not already observed that thou art\nby 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 utmost\nto raise him from the floor, but the cat, bending his back, had,\nnotwithstanding all Thor's efforts, only one of his feet lifted\nup, seeing which Thor made no further attempt.\n\n\"This trial has turned out,\" said Utgard-Loki, \"just as I imagined\nit would. The cat is large, but Thor is little in comparison to\nour 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. At\nlength 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 seats,\nand 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 a\ntable to be set for them, on which there was no lack of victuals\nor drink. After the repast Utgard-Loki led them to the gate of the\ncity, and on parting asked Thor how he thought his journey had\nturned out, and whether he had met with any men stronger than\nhimself. Thor told him that he could not deny but that he had\nbrought great shame on himself. \"And what grieves me most,\" he\nadded, \"is that ye will call me a person of little worth.\"\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 along\ndeceived thee by my illusions; first in the forest, where I tied\nup the wallet with iron wire so that thou couldst not untie it.\nAfter this thou gavest me three blows with thy mallet; the first,\nthough the least, would have ended my days had it fallen on me,\nbut I slipped aside and thy blows fell on the mountain, where thou\nwilt find three glens, one of them remarkably deep. These are the\ndints made by thy mallet. I have made use of similar illusions in\nthe contests you have had with my followers. In the first, Loki,\nlike hunger itself, devoured all that was set before him, but Logi\nwas in reality nothing else than Fire, and therefore consumed not\nonly the meat, bat the trough which held it. Hugi, with whom\nThialfi contended in running, was Thought, and it was impossible\nfor Thialfi to keep pace with that. When thou in thy turn didst\nattempt to empty the horn, thou didst perform, by my troth, a deed\nso marvellous that had I not seen it myself I should never have\nbelieved it. For one end of that horn reached the sea, which thou\nwast not aware of, but when thou comest to the shore thou wilt\nperceive how much the sea has sunk by thy draughts. Thou didst\nperform a feat no less wonderful by lifting up the cat, and to\ntell thee the truth, when we saw that one of his paws was off the\nfloor, we were all of us terror-stricken, for what thou tookest\nfor a cat was in reality the Midgard serpent that encompasseth the\nearth, and he was so stretched by thee that he was barely long\nenough to enclose it between his head and tail. Thy wrestling with\nElli was also a most astonishing feat, for there was never yet a\nman, nor ever will be, whom Old Age, for such in fact was Elli,\nwill not sooner or later lay low. But now, as we are going to\npart, let me tell thee that it will be better for both of us if\nthou never come near me again, for shouldst thou do so, I shall\nagain defend myself by other illusions, so that thou wilt only\nlose thy labor and get no fame from the contest with me.\"\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\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XL\n\nTHE DEATH OF BALDUR--THE ELVES--RUNIC LETTERS--ICELAND--TEUTONIC\nMYTHOLOGY--NIBELUNGEN LIED\n\nTHE DEATH OF BALDUR\n\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 oath\nfrom fire and water, from iron and all other metals, from stones,\ntrees, diseases, beasts, birds, poisons, and creeping things, that\nnone of them would do any harm to Baldur. Odin, not satisfied with\nall this, and feeling alarmed for the fate of his son, determined\nto consult the prophetess Angerbode, a giantess, mother of Fenris,\nHela, and the Midgard serpent. She was dead, and Odin was forced\nto seek her in Hela's dominions. This Descent of Odin forms the\nsubject of Gray's fine ode beginning,--\n\n    \"Uprose 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 the\nscene he was sorely vexed that Baldur was not hurt. Assuming,\ntherefore, the shape of a woman, he went to Fensalir, the man-\nsion of Frigga. That goddess, when she saw the pretended woman,\ninquired of her if she knew what the gods were doing at their\nmeetings. She replied that they were throwing darts and stones at\nBaldur, without being able to hurt him. \"Ay,\" said Frigga,\n\"neither stones, nor sticks, nor anything else can hurt Baldur,\nfor I have exacted an oath from all of them.\" \"What,\" exclaimed\nthe woman, \"have all things sworn to spare Baldur?\" \"All things,\"\nreplied Frigga, \"except one little shrub that grows on the eastern\nside of Valhalla, and is called Mistletoe, and which I thought too\nyoung 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, without\npartaking of the sports, on account of his blindness, and going up\nto him, said, \"Why dost thou not also throw something at Baldur?\"\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 gave\nvent to their grief by loud lamentations. When the gods came to\nthemselves, Frigga asked who among them wished to gain all her\nlove and good will. \"For this,\" said she, \"shall he have who will\nride to Hel and offer Hela a ransom if she will let Baldur return\nto Asgard.\" Whereupon Hermod, surnamed the Nimble, the son of\nOdin, offered to undertake the journey. Odin's horse, Sleipnir,\nwhich has eight legs and can outrun the wind, was then led forth,\non which Hermod mounted and galloped away on his mission. For the\nspace of nine days and as many nights he rode through deep glens\nso dark that he could not discern anything, until he arrived at\nthe river Gyoll, which he passed over on a bridge covered with\nglittering gold. The maiden who kept the bridge asked him his name\nand lineage, telling him that the day before five bands of dead\npersons had ridden over the bridge, and did not shake it as much\nas he alone. \"But,\" she added, \"thou hast not death's hue on thee;\nwhy then ridest thou here on the way 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 remounting\nclapped both spurs to his horse, who cleared the gate by a\ntremendous leap without touching it. Hermod then rode on to the\npalace, 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 home\nwith him, assuring her that nothing but lamentations were to be\nheard among the gods. Hela answered that it should now be tried\nwhether 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 in\nHel.\"\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 everything 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 named\nThaukt sitting in a cavern, and begged her to weep Baldur out of\nHel. 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.\n\n[Footnote: In Longfellow's Poems will be found a poem entitled\n\"Tegner's Drapa,\" upon the subject of Baldur's death.]\n\nThe gods took up the dead body and bore it to the seashore where\nstood Baldur's ship \"Hringham,\" which passed for the largest in\nthe world. Baldur's dead body was put on the funeral pile, on\nboard the 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 as her husband's. There was a vast concourse of various\nkinds of people at Baldur's obsequies. First came Odin accompanied\nby Frigga, the Valkyrie, and his ravens; then Frey in his car\ndrawn by Gullinbursti, the boar; Heimdall rode his horse Gulltopp,\nand Freya drove in her chariot drawn by cats. There were also a\ngreat many Frost giants and giants of the mountain present.\nBaldur's horse was led to the pile fully caparisoned and consumed\nin 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 as\nfishermen have used since his time. But Odin found out his hiding-\nplace and the gods assembled to take him. He, seeing this, changed\nhimself into a salmon, and lay hid among the stones of the brook.\nBut the gods took his net and dragged the brook, and Loki, finding\nhe must be caught, tried to leap over the net; but Thor caught him\nby the tail and compressed it, so that salmons ever since have had\nthat part remarkably fine and thin. They bound him with chains and\nsuspended a serpent over his head, whose venom falls upon his face\ndrop by drop. His wife Siguna sits by his side and catches the\ndrops as they fall, in a cup; but when she carries it away to\nempty it, the venom falls upon Loki, which makes him howl with\nhorror, and twist his body about so violently that the whole earth\nshakes, and this produces what men call earthquakes.\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 a delicate and\ntransparent texture. They loved the light, were kindly disposed to\nmankind, and generally appeared as fair and lovely children. Their\ncountry was called Alfheim, and was the domain of Freyr, the god\nof the sun, in whose light they were always sporting.\n\nThe Black or Night Elves were a different kind of creatures. Ugly,\nlong-nosed dwarfs, of a dirty brown color, they appeared only at\nnight, for they avoided the sun as their most deadly enemy,\nbecause whenever his beams fell upon any of them they changed them\nimmediately into stones. Their language was the echo of solitudes,\nand their dwelling-places subterranean caves and clefts. They were\nsupposed to have come into existence as maggots produced by the\ndecaying flesh of Ymir's body, and were afterwards endowed by the\ngods with a human form and great understanding. They were\nparticularly distinguished for a knowledge of the mysterious\npowers of nature, and for the runes which they carved and\nexplained. They were the most skilful artificers of all created\nbeings, and worked in metals and in wood. Among their most noted\nworks were Thor's hammer, and the ship \"Skidbladnir,\" which they\ngave to Freyr, and which was so large that it could contain all\nthe deities with their war and household implements, but so\nskillfully was it wrought that when folded together it could be\nput into a side pocket.\n\nRAGNAROK, 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 tempered\nby a single summer. Three other similar winters will then follow,\nduring which war and discord will spread over the universe. The\nearth itself will be frightened and begin to tremble, the sea\nleave its basin, the heavens tear asunder, and men perish in great\nnumbers, and the eagles of the air feast upon their still\nquivering bodies. The wolf Fenris will now break his bands, the\nMidgard serpent rise out of her bed in the sea, and Loki, released\nfrom his bonds, will join the enemies of the gods. Amidst the\ngeneral devastation the sons of Muspelheim will rush forth under\ntheir leader Surtur, before and behind whom are flames and burning\nfire. Onward they ride over Bifrost, the rainbow bridge, which\nbreaks under the horses' hoofs. But they, disregarding its fall,\ndirect their course to the battlefield called Vigrid. Thither also\nrepair the wolf Fenris, the Midgard serpent, Loki with all the\nfollowers of Hela, and the Frost giants.\n\nHeimdall now stands up and sounds the Giallar horn to assemble the\ngods and heroes for the contest. The gods advance, led on by Odin,\nwho engages the wolf Fenris, but falls a victim to the monster,\nwho is, however, slain by Vidar, Odin's son. Thor gains great\nrenown by killing the Midgard serpent, but recoils and falls dead,\nsuffocated with the venom which the dying monster vomits over him.\nLoki and Heimdall meet and fight till they are both slain. The\ngods and their enemies having fallen in battle, Surtur, who has\nkilled Freyr, darts fire and flames over the world, and the whole\nuniverse is burned up. The sun becomes dim, the earth sinks into\nthe ocean, the stars fall from heaven, and time 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\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 invariably\nof straight lines, in the shape of little sticks either singly or\nput together. Such sticks were in early times used by the northern\nnations for the purpose of ascertaining future events. The sticks\nwere shaken up, and from the figures that they formed a kind of\ndivination was derived.\n\nThe Runic characters were of various kinds. They were chiefly used\nfor magical purposes. The noxious, or, as they called them, the\nBITTER 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 be\nread with certainty, but hitherto very few have been found which\nthrow the least light on history. They are mostly epitaphs on\ntombstones.\n\nGray's ode on the \"Descent of Odin\" contains an allusion to the\nuse of 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\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 lore\nthere 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\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 for\na 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, and\nhorrid volcanic chasms, like the waste, chaotic battlefield of\nFrost 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 grassy\ncountry, where cattle can subsist, and men by means of them and of\nwhat the sea yields; and it seems they were poetic men these, men\nwho had deep thoughts in them and uttered musically their\nthoughts. Much would be lost had Iceland not been burst up from\nthe sea, not been discovered by the Northmen!\"\n\nTEUTONIC MYTHOLOGY\n\nIn the mythology of Germany proper, the name of Odin appears as\nWotan; Freya and Frigga are regarded as one and the same divinity,\nand the gods are in general represented as less warlike in\ncharacter than those in the Scandinavian myths. As a whole,\nhowever, Teutonic mythology runs along almost identical lines with\nthat of the northern nations. The most notable divergence is due\nto modifications of the legends by reason of the difference in\nclimatic conditions. The more advanced social condition of the\nGermans is also apparent in their mythology.\n\nTHE NIBELUNGEN LIED\n\nOne of the oldest myths of the Teutonic race is found in the great\nnational epic of the Nibelungen Lied, which dates back to the\nprehistoric era when Wotan, Frigga, Thor, Loki, and the other gods\nand goddesses were worshipped in the German forests. The epic is\ndivided into two parts, the first of which tells how Siegfried,\nthe youngest of the kings of the Netherlands, went to Worms, to\nask in marriage the hand of Kriemhild, sister of Gunther, King of\nBurgundy. While he was staying with Gunther, Siegfried helped the\nBurgundian king to secure as his wife Brunhild, queen of Issland.\nThe latter had announced publicly that he only should be her\nhusband who could beat her in hurling a spear, throwing a huge\nstone, and in leaping. Siegfried, who possessed a cloak of\ninvisibility, aided Gunther in these three contests, and Brunhild\nbecame his wife. In return for these services, Gunther gave\nSiegfried his sister Kriemhild in marriage.\n\nAfter some time had elapsed, Siegfried and Kriemhild went to visit\nGunther, when the two women fell into a dispute about the relative\nmerits of their husbands. Kriemhild, to exalt Siegfried, boasted\nthat it was to the latter that Gunther owed his victories and his\nwife. Brunhild, in great anger, employed Hagan, liegeman of\nGunther, to murder Siegfried. In the epic Hagan is described as\nfollows:\n\n\"Well-grown and well-compacted was that redoubted guest; Long were\nhis legs and sinewy, and deep and broad his chest; His hair, that\nonce was sable, with gray was dashed of late; Most terrible his\nvisage, and lordly was his gait.\"\n\n--Nibelungen Lied, stanza 1789.\n\nThis Achilles of German romance stabbed Siegfried between the\nshoulders, as the unfortunate King of the Netherlands was stooping\nto drink from a brook during a hunting expedition.\n\nThe second part of the epic relates how, thirteen years later,\nKriemhild married Etzel, King of the Huns. After a time, she\ninvited the King of Burgundy, with Hagan and many others, to the\ncourt of her husband. A fearful quarrel was stirred up in the\nbanquet hall, which ended in the slaughter of all the Burgundians\nbut Gunther and Hagan. These two were taken prisoners and given to\nKriemhild, who with her own hand cut off the heads of both. For\nthis bloody act of vengeance Kriemhild was herself slain by\nHildebrand, a magician and champion, who in German mythology holds\na place to an extent corresponding to that of Nestor in the Greek\nmythology.\n\nTHE NIBELUNGEN HOARD\n\nThis was a mythical mass of gold and precious stones which\nSiegfried obtained from the Nibelungs, the people of the north\nwhom he had conquered and whose country he had made tributary to\nhis own kingdom of the Netherlands. Upon his marriage, Siegfried\ngave the treasure to Kriemhild as her wedding portion. After the\nmurder of Siegfried, Hagan seized it and buried it secretly\nbeneath the Rhine at Lochham, intending to recover it at a future\nperiod. The hoard was lost forever when Hagan was killed by\nKriemhild. Its wonders are thus set forth in the poem:\n\n    \"'Twas as much as twelve huge wagons in four whole nights and days\n    Could carry from the mountain down to the salt sea bay;\n    Though to and fro each wagon thrice journeyed every day.\n\n    \"It was made up of nothing but precious stones and gold;\n    Were all the world bought from it, and down the value told,\n    Not a mark the less would there be left than erst there was, I ween.\"\n\n    --Nibelungen Lied, XIX.\n\nWhoever possessed the Nibelungen hoard were termed Nibelungers.\nThus at one time certain people of Norway were so called. When\nSiegfried held the treasure he received the title \"King of the\nNibelungers.\"\n\nWAGNER'S NIBELUNGEN RING\n\nThough Richard Wagner's music-drama of the Nibelungen Ring bears\nsome resemblance to the ancient German epic, it is a wholly\nindependent composition and was derived from various old songs and\nsagas, which the dramatist wove into one great harmonious story.\nThe principal source was the Volsunga Saga, while lesser parts\nwere taken from the Elder Edda and the Younger Edda, and others\nfrom the Nibelungen Lied, the Ecklenlied, and other Teutonic\nfolklore.\n\nIn the drama there are at first only four distinct races,--the\ngods, the giants, the dwarfs, and the nymphs. Later, by a special\ncreation, there come the valkyrie and the heroes. The gods are the\nnoblest and highest race, and dwell first in the mountain meadows,\nlater in the palace of Valhalla on the heights. The giants are a\ngreat and strong race, but lack wisdom; they hate what is noble,\nand are enemies of the gods; they dwell in caves near the earth's\nsurface. The dwarfs, or nibelungs, are black uncouth pigmies,\nhating the good, hating the gods; they are crafty and cunning, and\ndwell in the bowels of the earth. The nymphs are pure, innocent\ncreatures of the water. The valkyrie are daughters of the gods,\nbut mingled with a mortal strain; they gather dead heroes from the\nbattle-fields and carry them to Valhalla. The heroes are children\nof the gods, but also mingled with a mortal strain; they are\ndestined to become at last the highest race of all, and to succeed\nthe gods in the government of the world.\n\nThe principal gods are Wotan, Loki, Donner, and Froh. The chief\ngiants are Fafner and Fasolt, brothers. The chief dwarfs are\nAlberich and Mime, brothers, and later Hagan, son of Alberich. The\nchief nymphs are the Rhine-daughters, Flosshilda, Woglinda, and\nWellgunda. There are nine Valkyrie, of whom Brunhild is the\nleading one.\n\nWagner's story of the Ring may be summarized as follows:\n\nA hoard of gold exists in the depths of the Rhine, guarded by the\ninnocent Rhine-maidens. Alberich, the dwarf, forswears love to\ngain this gold. He makes it into a magic ring. It gives him all\npower, and he gathers by it a vast amount of treasures.\n\nMeanwhile Wotan, chief of the gods, has engaged the giants to\nbuild for him a noble castle, Valhalla, from whence to rule the\nworld, promising in payment Freya, goddess of youth and love. But\nthe gods find they cannot spare Freya, as they are dependent on\nher for their immortal youth. Loki, called upon to provide a\nsubstitute, tells of Alberich's magic ring and other treasure.\nWotan goes with Loki, and they steal the ring and the golden hoard\nfrom Alberich, who curses the ring and lays the curse on all who\nshall henceforth possess it. The gods give the ring and the\ntreasure to the giants as a substitute for Freya. The curse at\nonce begins. One giant, Fafner, kills his brother to get all, and\ntransforms himself into a dragon to guard his wealth. The gods\nenter Valhalla over the rainbow bridge. This ends the first part\nof the drama, called the Rhine-Gold.\n\nThe second part, the Valkyrie, relates how Wotan still covets the\nring. He cannot take it himself, for he has given his word to the\ngiants. He stands or falls by his word. So he devises an artifice\nto get the ring. He will get a hero-race to work for him and\nrecover the ring and the treasures. Siegmund and Sieglinda are\ntwin children of this new race. Sieglinda is carried off as a\nchild and is forced into marriage with Hunding. Siegmund comes,\nand unknowingly breaks the law of marriage, but wins Nothung, the\ngreat sword, and a bride. Brunhild, chief of the Valkyrie, is\ncommissioned by Wotan at the instance of Fricka, goddess of\nmarriage, to slay him for his sin. She disobeys and tries to save\nhim, but Hunding, helped by Wotan, slays him. Sieglinda, however,\nabout to bear the free hero, to be called Siegfried, is saved by\nBrunhild, and hid in the forest. Brunhild herself is punished by\nbeing made a mortal woman. She is left sleeping on the mountains\nwith a wall of fire around her which only a hero can penetrate.\n\nThe drama continues with the story of Siegfried, which opens with\na scene in the smithy between Mime the dwarf and Siegfried. Mime\nis welding a sword, and Siegfried scorns him. Mime tells him\nsomething of his mother, Sieglinda, and shows him the broken\npieces of his father's sword. Wotan comes and tells Mime that only\none who has no fear can remake the sword. Now Siegfried knows no\nfear and soon remakes the sword Nothung. Wotan and Alberich come\nto where the dragon Fafner is guarding the ring. They both long\nfor it, but neither can take it. Soon Mime comes bringing\nSiegfried with the mighty sword. Fafner comes out, but Siegfried\nslays him. Happening to touch his lips with the dragon's blood, he\nunderstands the language of the birds. They tell him of the ring.\nHe goes and gets it. Siegfried now has possession of the ring, but\nit is to bring him nothing of happiness, only evil. It is to curse\nlove and finally bring death. The birds also tell him of Mime's\ntreachery. He slays Mime. He longs for some one to love. The birds\ntell him of the slumbering Brunnhilda, whom he finds and marries.\n\nThe Dusk of the Gods portrays at the opening the three norns or\nfates weaving and measuring the thread of destiny. It is the\nbeginning of the end. The perfect pair, Siegfried and Brunhild,\nappear in all the glory of their life, splendid ideals of manhood\nand womanhood. But Siegfried goes out into the world to achieve\ndeeds of prowess. He gives her the Nibelungen ring to keep as a\npledge of his love till his return. Meanwhile Alberich also has\nbegotten a son, Hagan, to achieve for him the possession of the\nring. He is partly of the Gibichung race, and works through\nGunther and Gutrune, half-brother and half-sister to him. They\nbeguile Siegfried to them, give him a magic draught which makes\nhim forget Brunhild and fall in love with Gutrune. Under this same\nspell, he offers to bring Brunhild for wife to Gunther. Now is\nValhalla full of sorrow and despair. The gods fear the end. Wotan\nmurmurs, \"O that she would give back the ring to the Rhine.\" But\nBrunhild will not give it up,--it is now her pledge of love.\nSiegfried comes, takes the ring, and Brunhild is now brought to\nthe Rhine castle of the Gibichungs, but Siegfried under the spell\ndoes not love her. She is to be wedded to Gunther. She rises in\nwrath and denounces Siegfried. But at a hunting banquet Siegfried\nis given another magic draught, remembers all, and is slain by\nHagan by a blow in the back, as he calls on Brunhild's name in\nlove. Then comes the end. The body of Siegfried is burned on a\nfuneral pyre, a grand funeral march is heard, and Brunhild rides\ninto the flames and sacrifices herself for love's sake; the ring\ngoes back to the Rhine-daughters; and the old world--of the gods\nof Valhalla, of passion and sin--is burnt up with flames, for the\ngods have broken moral law, and coveted power rather than love,\ngold rather than truth, and therefore must perish. They pass, and\na new era, the reign of love and truth, has begun.\n\nThose who wish to study the differences in the legends of the\nNibelungen Lied and the Nibelungen Ring, and the way in which\nWagner used his ancient material, are referred to Professor W. C.\nSawyer's book on \"Teutonic Legends in the Nibelungen Lied and the\nNibelungen Ring,\" where the matter is treated in full detail. For\na very thorough and clear analysis of the Ring as Wagner gives it,\nwith a study of the musical motifs, probably nothing is better for\ngeneral readers than the volume \"The Epic of Sounds,\" by Freda\nWinworth. The more scholarly work of Professor Lavignac is\nindispensable for the student of Wagner's dramas. There is much\nilluminating comment on the sources and materials in \"Legends of\nthe Wagner Drama\" by J. L. Weston.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLI\n\nTHE DRUIDS--IONA\n\nDRUIDS\n\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 the\nBrahmans 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 affinity\nmore striking is that the Druids as well as the Phoenicians\nidentified this, their supreme deity, with the Sun. Fire was\nregarded as a symbol of the divinity. The Latin writers assert\nthat the Druids also worshipped numerous inferior gods.\n\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 stone\ngenerally of vast size), enclosing an area of from twenty feet to\nthirty yards in diameter, constituted their sacred place. The most\ncelebrated of these now remaining is Stonehenge, on Salisbury\nPlain, 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 on\nend. 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 the\nsymbol 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, and\nof the ceremonies connected with their religious services we know\nalmost nothing. The classical (Roman) writers affirm that they\noffered on great occasions human sacrifices; as for success in war\nor for relief from dangerous diseases. Caesar has given a detailed\naccount of the manner in which this was done. \"They have images of\nimmense size, the limbs of which are framed with twisted twigs and\nfilled with living persons. These being set on fire, those within\nare encompassed by the flames.\" Many attempts have been made by\nCeltic writers to shake the testimony of the Roman historians to\nthis 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 custom\na trace remains in the name given to Whitsunday in parts of\nScotland to this day. Sir Walter Scott uses the word in the \"Boat\nSong\" in the \"Lady of the Lake\":\n\n\"Ours is no sapling, chance sown by the fountain, Blooming at\nBeltane in winter to fade;\" etc.\n\nThe other great festival of the Druids was called \"Samh'in,\" or\n\"fire of peace,\" and was held on Halloweve (first of November),\nwhich still retains this designation in the Highlands of Scotland.\nOn this occasion the Druids assembled in solemn conclave, in the\nmost central part of the district, to discharge the judicial\nfunctions of their order. All questions, whether public or\nprivate, all crimes against person or property, were at this time\nbrought before them for adjudication. With these judicial acts\nwere combined certain superstitious usages, especially the\nkindling of the sacred fire, from which all the fires in the\ndistrict, which had been beforehand scrupulously extinguished,\nmight be relighted. This usage of kindling fires on Hallow-eve\nlingered in the British islands long after the establishment of\nChristianity.\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 bulls,\nwhose horns are then for the first time bound. The priest then,\nrobed in white, ascends the tree, and cuts off the mistletoe with\na golden sickle. It is caught in a white mantle, after which they\nproceed to slay the victims, at the same time praying that God\nwould render his gift prosperous to those to whom he had given\nit.\" They drink the water in which it has been infused, and think\nit a remedy for all diseases. The mistletoe is a parasitic plant,\nand is not always nor often found on the oak, so that when it is\nfound 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 a\nword 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, and\nconcerning 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 apparently\nin verse, and thus constituted part of the poetry as well as the\nhistory of the Druids. In the poems of Ossian we have, if not the\nactual productions of Druidical times, what may be considered\nfaithful 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 with\npowers equal to inspiration. They were the oral historians of all\npast transactions, public and private. They were also accomplished\ngenealogists,\" etc.\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 the\nearlier period the judges were appointed by the Welsh princes, and\nafter the conquest of Wales, by commission from the kings of\nEngland. Yet the tradition is that Edward I., in revenge for the\ninfluence of the Bards in animating the resistance of the people\nto his sway, persecuted them with great cruelty. This tradition\nhas furnished the poet Gray with the subject of his celebrated\node, the \"Bard.\"\n\nThere are still occasional meetings of the lovers of Welsh poetry\nand music, held under the ancient name. Among Mrs. Hemans' 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 mainland,\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 mainland until they were supplanted and their\nsuperstitions overturned by the arrival of St. Columba, the\napostle of the Highlands, by whom the inhabitants of that district\nwere first led to profess Christianity.\n\nIONA\n\nOne of the smallest of the British Isles, situated near a rugged\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 of\nNorthern Europe. lona or Icolmkill is situated at the extremity of\nthe island of Mull, from which it is separated by a strait of half\na mile in breadth, its distance from the mainland of Scotland\nbeing 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 still\nimmersed in the darkness of heathenism. Columba with twelve\nfriends landed on the island of lona in the year of our Lord 563,\nhaving made the passage in a wicker boat covered with hides. The\nDruids who occupied the island endeavored to prevent his settling\nthere, and the savage nations on the adjoining shores incommoded\nhim with their hostility, and on several occasions endangered his\nlife by their attacks. Yet by his perseverance and zeal he\nsurmounted all opposition, procured from the king a gift of the\nisland, and established there a monastery of which he was the\nabbot. He was unwearied in his labors to disseminate a knowledge\nof the Scriptures throughout the Highlands and islands of\nScotland, and such was the reverence paid him that though not a\nbishop, but merely a presbyter and monk, the entire province with\nits bishops was subject to him and his successors. The Pictish\nmonarch was so impressed with a sense of his wisdom and worth that\nhe held him in the highest honor, and the neighboring chiefs and\nprinces sought his counsel and availed themselves of his judgment\nin settling their disputes.\n\nWhen Columba landed on lona he was attended by twelve followers\nwhom he had formed into a religious body of which he was the head.\nTo these, as occasion required, others were from time to time\nadded, so that the original number was always kept up. Their\ninstitution was called a monastery and the superior an abbot, but\nthe system had little in common with the monastic institutions of\nlater times. The name by which those who submitted to the rule\nwere known was that of Culdees, probably from the Latin \"cultores\nDei\"--worshippers of God. They were a body of religious persons\nassociated together for the purpose of aiding each other in the\ncommon work of preaching the gospel and teaching youth, as well as\nmaintaining in themselves the fervor of devotion by united\nexercises of worship. On entering the order certain vows were\ntaken by the members, but they were not those which were usually\nimposed by monastic orders, for of these, which are three,--\ncelibacy, poverty, and obedience.--the Culdees were bound to none\nexcept the third. To poverty they did not bind themselves; on the\ncontrary they seem to have labored diligently to procure for\nthemselves and those dependent on them the comforts of life.\nMarriage also was allowed them, and most of them seem to have\nentered into that state. True, their wives were not permitted to\nreside with them at the institution, but they had a residence\nassigned to them in an adjacent locality. Near lona there is an\nisland which still bears the name of \"Eilen nam ban,\" women's\nisland, where their husbands seem to have resided with them,\nexcept when duty required their presence in the school or the\nsanctuary.\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 lona 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    \"O, 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 centurv that the communities of the\nCuldees were suppressed and the members dispersed. They still\ncontinued to labor as individuals, and resisted the inroads of\nPapal usurpation as they best might till the light of the\nReformation dawned on the world.\n\nIona, 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 subversion of the Culdees throughout\nScotland. Under the reign of Popery the island became the seat of\na nunnery, the ruins of which are still seen. At the Reformation,\nthe nuns were allowed to remain, living in community, when the\nabbey was dismantled.\n\nIona 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 Church\nand 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 these\nremains of ancient religion that Johnson exclaims, \"That man is\nlittle to be envied whose patriotism would not gain force upon the\nplains of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer amid the\nruins of lona.\"\n\nIn the \"Lord of the Isles\" Scott beautifully contrasts the church\non lona 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    That 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\n\n\n\nKING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nOn the decline of the Roman power, about five centuries after\nChrist, the countries of Northern Europe were left almost\ndestitute of a national government. Numerous chiefs, more or less\npowerful, held local sway, as far as each could enforce his\ndominion, and occasionally those chiefs would unite for a common\nobject; but, in ordinary times, they were much more likely to be\nfound in hostility to one another. In such a state of things the\nrights of the humbler classes of society were at the mercy of\nevery assailant; and it is plain that, without some check upon the\nlawless power of the chiefs, society must have relapsed into\nbarbarism. Such checks were found, first, in the rivalry of the\nchiefs themselves, whose mutual jealousy made them restraints upon\none another; secondly, in the influence of the Church, which, by\nevery motive, pure or selfish, was pledged to interpose for the\nprotection of the weak; and lastly, in the generosity and sense of\nright which, however crushed under the weight of passion and\nselfishness, dwell naturally in the heart of man. From this last\nsource sprang Chivalry, which framed an ideal of the heroic\ncharacter, combining invincible strength and valor, justice,\nmodesty, loyalty to superiors, courtesy to equals, compassion to\nweakness, and devotedness to the Church; an ideal which, if never\nmet with in real life, was acknowledged by all as the highest\nmodel for emulation.\n\nThe word \"Chivalry\" is derived from the French \"cheval,\" a horse.\nThe word \"knight,\" which originally meant boy or servant, was\nparticularly applied to a young man after he was admitted to the\nprivilege of bearing arms. This privilege was conferred on youths\nof family and fortune only, for the mass of the people were not\nfurnished with arms. The knight then was a mounted warrior, a man\nof rank, or in the service and maintenance of some man of rank,\ngenerally possessing some independent means of support, but often\nrelying mainly on the gratitude of those whom he served for the\nsupply of his wants, and often, no doubt, resorting to the means\nwhich power confers on its possessor.\n\nIn time of war the knight was, with his followers, in the camp of\nhis sovereign, or commanding in the field, or holding some castle\nfor him. In time of peace he was often in attendance at his\nsovereign's court, gracing with his presence the banquets and\ntournaments with which princes cheered their leisure. Or he was\ntraversing the country in quest of adventure, professedly bent on\nredressing wrongs and enforcing rights, sometimes in fulfilment of\nsome vow of religion or of love. These wandering knights were\ncalled knights-errant; they were welcome guests in the castles of\nthe nobility, for their presence enlivened the dulness of those\nsecluded abodes, and they were received with honor at the abbeys,\nwhich often owed the best part of their revenues to the patronage\nof the knights; but if no castle or abbey or hermitage were at\nhand their hardy habits made it not intolerable to them to lie\ndown, supperless, at the foot of some wayside cross, and pass the\nnight.\n\nIt is evident that the justice administered by such an\ninstrumentality must have been of the rudest description. The\nforce whose legitimate purpose was to redress wrongs might easily\nbe perverted to inflict them Accordingly, we find in the romances,\nwhich, however fabulous in facts, are true as pictures of manners,\nthat a knightly castle was often a terror to the surrounding\ncountry; that is, dungeons were full of oppressed knights and\nladies, waiting for some champion to appear to set them free, or\nto be ransomed with money; that hosts of idle retainers were ever\nat hand to enforce their lord's behests, regardless of law and\njustice; and that the rights of the unarmed multitude were of no\naccount. This contrariety of fact and theory in regard to chivalry\nwill account for the opposite impressions which exist in men's\nminds respecting it. While it has been the theme of the most\nfervid eulogium on the one part, it has been as eagerly denounced\non the other. On a cool estimate, we cannot but see reason to\ncongratulate ourselves that it has given way in modern times to\nthe reign of law, and that the civil magistrate, if less\npicturesque, has taken the place of the mailed champion.\n\nTHE TRAINING OF A KNIGHT\n\nThe preparatory education of candidates for knighthood was long\nand arduous. At seven years of age the noble children were usually\nremoved from their father's house to the court or castle of their\nfuture patron, and placed under the care of a governor, who taught\nthem the first articles of religion, and respect and reverence for\ntheir lords and superiors, and initiated them in the ceremonies of\na court. They were called pages, valets, or varlets, and their\noffice was to carve, to wait at table, and to perform other menial\nservices, which were not then considered humiliating. In their\nleisure hours they learned to dance and play on the harp, were\ninstructed in the mysteries of woods and rivers, that is, in\nhunting, falconry, and fishing, and in wrestling, tilting with\nspears, and performing other military exercises on horseback. At\nfourteen the page became an esquire, and began a course of severer\nand more laborious exercises. To vault on a horse in heavy armor;\nto run, to scale walls, and spring over ditches, under the same\nencumbrance; to wrestle, to wield the battle-axe for a length of\ntime, without raising the visor or taking breath; to perform with\ngrace all the evolutions of horsemanship,--were necessary\npreliminaries to the reception of knighthood, which was usually\nconferred at twenty-one years of age, when the young man's\neducation was supposed to be completed. In the meantime, the\nesquires were no less assiduously engaged in acquiring all those\nrefinements of civility which formed what was in that age called\ncourtesy. The same castle in which they received their education\nwas usually thronged with young persons of the other sex, and the\npage was encouraged, at a very early age, to select some lady of\nthe court as the mistress of his heart, to whom he was taught to\nrefer all his sentiments, words, and actions. The service of his\nmistress was the glory and occupation of a knight, and her smiles,\nbestowed at once by affection and gratitude, were held out as the\nrecompense of his well-directed valor. Religion united its\ninfluence with those of loyalty and love, and the order of\nknighthood, endowed with all the sanctity and religious awe that\nattended the priesthood, became an object of ambition to the\ngreatest sovereigns.\n\nThe ceremonies of initiation were peculiarly solemn. After\nundergoing a severe fast, and spending whole nights in prayer, the\ncandidate confessed, and received the sacrament. He then clothed\nhimself in snow-white garments, and repaired to the church, or the\nhall, where the ceremony was to take place, bearing a knightly\nsword suspended from his neck, which the officiating priest took\nand blessed, and then returned to him. The candidate then, with\nfolded arms, knelt before the presiding knight, who, after some\nquestions about his motives and purposes in requesting admission,\nadministered to him the oaths, and granted his request. Some of\nthe knights present, sometimes even ladies and damsels, handed to\nhim in succession the spurs, the coat of mail, the hauberk, the\narmlet and gauntlet, and lastly he girded on the sword. He then\nknelt again before the president, who, rising from his seat, gave\nhim the \"accolade,\" which consisted of three strokes, with the\nflat of a sword, on the shoulder or neck of the candidate,\naccompanied by the words: \"In the name of God, of St. Michael, and\nSt. George, I make thee a knight; be valiant, courteous, and\nloyal!\" Then he received his helmet, his shield, and spear; and\nthus the investiture ended.\n\nFREEMEN, VILLAINS, SERFS, AND CLERKS\n\nThe other classes of which society was composed were, first,\nFREEMEN, owners of small portions of land independent, though they\nsometimes voluntarily became the vassals of their more opulent\nneighbors, whose power was necessary for their protection. The\nother two classes, which were much the most numerous, were either\nserfs or villains, both of which were slaves.\n\nThe SERFS were in the lowest state of slavery. All the fruits of\ntheir labor belonged to the master whose land they tilled, and by\nwhom they were fed and clothed.\n\nThe VILLIANS were less degraded. Their situation seems to have\nresembled that of the Russian peasants at this day. Like the\nserfs, they were attached to the soil, and were transferred with\nit by purchase; but they paid only a fixed rent to the landlord,\nand had a right to dispose of any surplus that might arise from\ntheir industry.\n\nThe term \"clerk\" was of very extensive import. It comprehended,\noriginally, such persons only as belonged to the clergy, or\nclerical order, among whom, however, might be found a multitude of\nmarried persons, artisans or others. But in process of time a much\nwider rule was established; every one that could read being\naccounted a clerk or clericus, and allowed the \"benefit of\nclergy,\" that is, exemption from capital and some other forms of\npunishment, in case of crime.\n\nTOURNAMENTS\n\nThe splendid pageant of a tournament between knights, its gaudy\naccessories and trappings, and its chivalrous regulations,\noriginated in France. Tournaments were repeatedly condemned by the\nChurch, probably on account of the quarrels they led to, and the\noften fatal results. The \"joust,\" or \"just,\" was different from\nthe tournament. In these, knights fought with their lances, and\ntheir object was to unhorse their antagonists; while the\ntournaments were intended for a display of skill and address in\nevolutions, and with various weapons, and greater courtesy was\nobserved in the regulations. By these it was forbidden to wound\nthe horse, or to use the point of the sword, or to strike a knight\nafter he had raised his vizor, or unlaced his helmet. The ladies\nencouraged their knights in these exercises; they bestowed prizes,\nand the conqueror's feats were the theme of romance and song. The\nstands overlooking the ground, of course, were varied in the\nshapes of towers, terraces, galleries, and pensile gardens,\nmagnificently decorated with tapestry, pavilions, and banners.\nEvery combatant proclaimed the name of the lady whose servant\nd'amour he was. He was wont to look up to the stand, and\nstrengthen his courage by the sight of the bright eyes that were\nraining their influence on him from above. The knights also\ncarried FAVORS, consisting of scarfs, veils, sleeves, bracelets,\nclasps,--in short, some piece of female habiliment,--attached to\ntheir helmets, shields, or armor. If, during the combat, any of\nthese appendages were dropped or lost the fair donor would at\ntimes send her knight new ones, especially if pleased with his\nexertions.\n\nMAIL ARMOR\n\nMail armor, of which the hauberk is a species, and which derived\nits name from maille, a French word for MESH, was of two kinds,\nPLATE or SCALE mail, and CHAIN mail. It was originally used for\nthe protection of the body only, reaching no lower than the knees.\nIt was shaped like a carter's frock, and bound round the waist by\na girdle. Gloves and hose of mail were afterwards added, and a\nhood, which, when necessary, was drawn over the head, leaving the\nface alone uncovered. To protect the skin from the impression of\nthe iron network of the chain mail, a quilted lining was employed,\nwhich, however, was insufficient, and the bath was used to efface\nthe marks of the armor.\n\nThe hauberk was a complete covering of double chain mail. Some\nhauberks opened before, like a modern coat; others were closed\nlike a shirt.\n\nThe chain mail of which they were composed was formed by a number\nof iron links, each link having others inserted into it, the whole\nexhibiting a kind of network, of which (in some instances at\nleast) the meshes were circular, with each link separately\nriveted.\n\nThe hauberk was proof against the most violent blow of a sword;\nbut the point of a lance might pass through the meshes, or drive\nthe iron into the flesh. To guard against this, a thick and well-\nstuffed doublet was worn underneath, under which was commonly\nadded an iron breastplate. Hence the expression \"to pierce both\nplate and mail,\" so common in the earlier poets.\n\nMail armor continued in general use till about the year 1300, when\nit was gradually supplanted by plate armor, or suits consisting of\npieces or plates of solid iron, adapted to the different parts of\nthe body.\n\nShields were generally made of wood, covered with leather, or some\nsimilar substance. To secure them, in some sort, from being cut\nthrough by the sword, they were surrounded with a hoop of metal.\n\nHELMETS\n\nThe helmet was composed of two parts: the HEADPIECE, which was\nstrengthened within by several circles of iron, and the VISOR,\nwhich, as the name implies, was a sort of grating to see through,\nso contrived as, by sliding in a groove, or turning on a pivot, to\nbe raised or lowered at pleasure. Some helmets had a further\nimprovement called a BEVER, from the Italian bevere, to drink. The\nVENTAYLE, or \"air-passage,\" is another name for this.\n\nTo secure the helmet from the possibility of falling, or of being\nstruck off, it was tied by several laces to the meshes of the\nhauberk; consequently, when a knight was overthrown it was\nnecessary to undo these laces before he could be put to death;\nthough this was sometimes effected by lifting up the skirt of the\nhauberk, and stabbing him in the belly. The instrument of death\nwas a small dagger, worn on the right side.\n\nROMANCES\n\nIn ages when there were no books, when noblemen and princes\nthemselves could not read, history or tradition was monopolized by\nthe story-tellers. They inherited, generation after generation,\nthe wondrous tales of their predecessors, which they retailed to\nthe public with such additions of their own as their acquired\ninformation supplied them with. Anachronisms became of course very\ncommon, and errors of geography, of locality, of manners, equally\nso. Spurious genealogies were invented, in which Arthur and his\nknights, and Charlemagne and his paladins, were made to derive\ntheir descent from Aeneas, Hector, or some other of the Trojan\nheroes.\n\nWith regard to the derivation of the word \"Romance,\" we trace it\nto the fact that the dialects which were formed in Western Europe,\nfrom the admixture of Latin with the native languages, took the\nname of Langue Romaine. The French language was divided into two\ndialects. The river Loire was their common boundary. In the\nprovinces to the south of that river the affirmative, YES, was\nexpressed by the word oc; in the north it was called oil (oui);\nand hence Dante has named the southern language langue d'oc, and\nthe northern langue d'oil. The latter, which was carried into\nEngland by the Normans, and is the origin of the present French,\nmay be called the French Romane; and the former the Provencal, or\nProvencial Romane, because it was spoken by the people of Provence\nand Languedoc, southern provinces of France.\n\nThese dialects were soon distinguished by very opposite\ncharacters. A soft and enervating climate, a spirit of commerce\nencouraged by an easy communication with other maritime nations,\nthe influx of wealth, and a more settled government, may have\ntended to polish and soften the diction of the Provencials, whose\npoets, under the name of Troubadours, were the masters of the\nItalians, and particularly of Petrarch. Their favorite pieces were\nSirventes (satirical pieces), love-songs, and Tensons, which last\nwere a sort of dialogue in verse between two poets, who questioned\neach other on some refined points of loves' casuistry. It seems\nthe Provencials were so completely absorbed in these delicate\nquestions as to neglect and despise the composition of fabulous\nhistories of adventure and knighthood, which they left in a great\nmeasure to the poets of the northern part of the kingdom, called\nTrouveurs.\n\nAt a time when chivalry excited universal admiration, and when all\nthe efforts of that chivalry were directed against the enemies of\nreligion, it was natural that literature should receive the same\nimpulse, and that history and fable should be ransacked to furnish\nexamples of courage and piety that might excite increased\nemulation. Arthur and Charlemagne were the two heroes selected for\nthis purpose. Arthur's pretensions were that he was a brave,\nthough not always a successful warrior; he had withstood with\ngreat resolution the arms of the infidels, that is to say of the\nSaxons, and his memory was held in the highest estimation by his\ncountrymen, the Britons, who carried with them into Wales, and\ninto the kindred country of Armorica, or Brittany, the memory of\nhis exploits, which their national vanity insensibly exaggerated,\ntill the little prince of the Silures (South Wales) was magnified\ninto the conqueror of England, of Gaul, and of the greater part of\nEurope. His genealogy was gradually carried up to an imaginary\nBrutus, and to the period of the Trojan war, and a sort of\nchronicle was composed in the Welsh, or Armorican language, which,\nunder the pompous title of the \"History of the Kings of Britain,\"\nwas translated into Latin by Geoffrey of Monmouth, about the year\n1150. The Welsh critics consider the material of the work to have\nbeen an older history, written by St. Talian, Bishop of St. Asaph,\nin the seventh century.\n\nAs to Charlemagne, though his real merits were sufficient to\nsecure his immortality, it was impossible that his HOLY WARS\nagainst the Saracens should not become a favorite topic for\nfiction. Accordingly, the fabulous history of these wars was\nwritten, probably towards the close of the eleventh century, by a\nmonk, who, thinking it would add dignity to his work to embellish\nit with a contemporary name, boldly ascribed it to Turpin, who was\nArchbishop of Rheims about the year 773.\n\nThese fabulous chronicles were for a while imprisoned in languages\nof local only or of professional access. Both Turpin and Geoffrey\nmight indeed be read by ecclesiastics, the sole Latin scholars of\nthose times, and Geoffrey's British original would contribute to\nthe gratification of Welshmen; but neither could become\nextensively popular till translated into some language of general\nand familiar use. The Anglo-Saxon was at that time used only by a\nconquered and enslaved nation; the Spanish and Italian languages\nwere not yet formed; the Norman French alone was spoken and\nunderstood by the nobility in the greater part of Europe, and\ntherefore was a proper vehicle for the new mode of composition.\n\nThat language was fashionable in England before the Conquest, and\nbecame, after that event, the only language used at the court of\nLondon. As the various conquests of the Normans, and the\nenthusiastic valor of that extraordinary people, had familiarized\nthe minds of men with the most marvellous events, their poets\neagerly seized the fabulous legends of Arthur and Charlemagne,\ntranslated them into the language of the day, and soon produced a\nvariety of imitations. The adventures attributed to these\nmonarchs, and to their distinguished warriors, together with those\nof many other traditionary or imaginary heroes, composed by\ndegrees that formidable body of marvellous histories which, from\nthe dialect in which the most ancient of them were written, were\ncalled \"Romances.\"\n\nMETRICAL ROMANCES\n\nThe earliest form in which romances appear is that of a rude kind\nof verse. In this form it is supposed they were sung or recited at\nthe feasts of princes and knights in their baronial halls. The\nfollowing specimen of the language and style of Robert de\nBeauvais, who flourished in 1257, is from Sir Walter Scott's\n\"Introduction to the Romance of Sir Tristrem\":\n\n    \"Ne voil pas emmi dire,\n    Ici diverse la matyere,\n    Entre ceus qui solent cunter,\n    E de le cunte Tristran parler.\"\n\n    \"I will not say too much about it,\n    So diverse is the matter,\n    Among those who are in the habit of telling\n    And relating the story of Tristran.\"\n\nThis is a specimen of the language which was in use among the\nnobility of England, in the ages immediately after the Norman\nconquest. The following is a specimen of the English that existed\nat the same time, among the common people. Robert de Brunne,\nspeaking of his Latin and French authorities, says:\n\n    \"Als thai haf wryten and sayd\n    Haf I alle in myn Inglis layd,\n    In symple speche as I couthe,\n    That is lightest in manne's mouthe.\n    Alle for the luf of symple men,\n    That strange Inglis cannot ken.\"\n\nThe \"strange Inglis\" being the language of the previous specimen.\n\nIt was not till toward the end of the thirteenth century that the\nPROSE romances began to appear. These works generally began with\ndisowning and discrediting the sources from which in reality they\ndrew their sole information. As every romance was supposed to be a\nreal history, the compilers of those in prose would have forfeited\nall credit if they had announced themselves as mere copyists of\nthe minstrels. On the contrary, they usually state that, as the\npopular poems upon the matter in question contain many \"lesings,\"\nthey had been induced to translate the real and true history of\nsuch or such a knight from the original Latin or Greek, or from\nthe ancient British or Armorican authorities, which authorities\nexisted only in their own assertion.\n\nA specimen of the style of the prose romances may be found in the\nfollowing extract from one of the most celebrated and latest of\nthem, the \"Morte d'Arthur\" of Sir Thomas Mallory, of the date of\n1485. From this work much of the contents of this volume has been\ndrawn, with as close an adherence to the original style as was\nthought consistent with our plan of adapting our narrative to the\ntaste of modern readers.\n\n\"It is notoyrly knowen thorugh the vnyuersal world that there been\nix worthy and the best that ever were. That is to wete thre\npaynyms, three Jewes, and three crysten men. As for the paynyms,\nthey were tofore the Incarnacyon of Cryst whiche were named, the\nfyrst Hector of Troye; the second Alysaunder the grete, and the\nthyrd Julyus Cezar, Emperour of Rome, of whome thystoryes ben wel\nkno and had. And as for the thre Jewes whyche also were tofore\nthyncarnacyon of our Lord, of whome the fyrst was Duc Josue,\nwhyche brought the chyldren of Israhel into the londe of beheste;\nthe second Dauyd, kyng of Jherusalem, and the thyrd Judas\nMachabeus; of these thre the byble reherceth al theyr noble\nhystoryes and actes. And sythe the sayd Incarnacyon haue ben the\nnoble crysten men stalled and admytted thorugh the vnyuersal world\nto the nombre of the ix beste and worthy, of whome was fyrst the\nnoble Arthur, whose noble actes I purpose to wryte in this person\nbook here folowyng. The second was Charlemayn, or Charles the\ngrete, of whome thystorye is had in many places both in frensshe\nand englysshe, and the thyrd and last was Godefray of boloyn.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nTHE MYTHICAL HISTORY OF ENGLAND\n\n\nThe illustrious poet, Milton, in his \"History of England,\" is the\nauthor whom we chiefly follow in this chapter.\n\nAccording to the earliest accounts, Albion, a giant, and son of\nNeptune, a contemporary of Hercules, ruled over the island, to\nwhich he gave his name. Presuming to oppose the progress of\nHercules in his western march, he was slain by him.\n\nAnother story is that Histion, the son of Japhet, the son of Noah,\nhad four sons, Francus, Romanus, Alemannus, and Britto, from whom\ndescended the French, Roman, German, and British people.\n\nRejecting these and other like stories, Milton gives more regard\nto the story of Brutus, the Trojan, which, he says, is supported\nby \"descents of ancestry long continued, laws and exploits not\nplainly seeming to be borrowed or devised, which on the common\nbelief have wrought no small impression; defended by many, denied\nutterly by few.\" The principal authority is Geoffrey of Monmouth,\nwhose history, written in the twelfth century, purports to be a\ntranslation of a history of Britain brought over from the opposite\nshore of France, which, under the name of Brittany, was chiefly\npeopled by natives of Britain who, from time to time, emigrated\nthither, driven from their own country by the inroads of the Picts\nand Scots. According to this authority, Brutus was the son of\nSilvius, and he of Ascanius, the son of Aeneas, whose flight from\nTroy and settlement in Italy are narrated in \"Stories of Gods and\nHeroes.\"\n\nBrutus, at the age of fifteen, attending his father to the chase,\nunfortunately killed him with an arrow. Banished therefor by his\nkindred, he sought refuge in that part of Greece where Helenus,\nwith a band of Trojan exiles, had become established. But Helenus\nwas now dead and the descendants of the Trojans were oppressed by\nPandrasus, the king of the country. Brutus, being kindly received\namong them, so throve in virtue and in arms as to win the regard\nof all the eminent of the land above all others of his age. In\nconsequence of this the Trojans not only began to hope, but\nsecretly to persuade him to lead them the way to liberty. To\nencourage them, they had the promise of help from Assaracus, a\nnoble Greek youth, whose mother was a Trojan. He had suffered\nwrong at the hands of the king, and for that reason the more\nwillingly cast in his lost with the Trojan exiles.\n\nChoosing a fit opportunity, Brutus with his countrymen withdrew to\nthe woods and hills, as the safest place from which to\nexpostulate, and sent this message to Pandrasus: \"That the\nTrojans, holding it unworthy of their ancestors to serve in a\nforeign land, had retreated to the woods, choosing rather a savage\nlife than a slavish one. If that displeased him, then, with his\nleave, they would depart to some other country.\" Pandrasus, not\nexpecting so bold a message from the sons of captives, went in\npursuit of them, with such forces as he could gather, and met them\non the banks of the Achelous, where Brutus got the advantage, and\ntook the king captive. The result was, that the terms demanded by\nthe Trojans were granted; the king gave his daughter Imogen in\nmarriage to Brutus, and furnished shipping, money, and fit\nprovision for them all to depart from the land.\n\nThe marriage being solemnized, and shipping from all parts got\ntogether, the Trojans, in a fleet of no less than three hundred\nand twenty sail, betook themselves to the sea. On the third day\nthey arrived at a certain island, which they found destitute of\ninhabitants, though there were appearances of former habitation,\nand among the ruins a temple of Diana. Brutus, here performing\nsacrifice at the shrine of the goddess, invoked an oracle for his\nguidance, in these lines:\n\n    \"Goddess of shades, and huntress, who at will\n    Walk'st on the rolling sphere, and through the deep;\n    On thy third realm, the earth, look now, and tell\n    What land, what seat of rest, thou bidd'st me seek;\n    What certain seat where I may worship thee\n    For aye, with temples vowed and virgin choirs.\"\n\nTo whom, sleeping before the altar, Diana in a vision thus\nanswered:\n\n    \"Brutus! far to the west, in the ocean wide,\n    Beyond the realm of Gaul, a land there lies,\n    Seagirt it lies, where giants dwelt of old;\n    Now, void, it fits thy people: thither bend\n    Thy course; there shalt thou find a lasting seat;\n    There to thy sons another Troy shall rise,\n    And kings be born of thee, whose dreaded might\n    Shall awe the world, and conquer nations bold\"\n\nBrutus, guided now, as he thought, by divine direction, sped his\ncourse towards the west, and, arriving at a place on the Tyrrhene\nsea, found there the descendants of certain Trojans who, with\nAntenor, came into Italy, of whom Corineus was the chief. These\njoined company, and the ships pursued their way till they arrived\nat the mouth of the river Loire, in France, where the expedition\nlanded, with a view to a settlement, but were so rudely assaulted\nby the inhabitants that they put to sea again, and arrived at a\npart of the coast of Britain, now called Devonshire, where Brutus\nfelt convinced that he had found the promised end of his voyage,\nlanded his colony, and took possession.\n\nThe island, not yet Britain, but Albion, was in a manner desert\nand inhospitable, occupied only by a remnant of the giant race\nwhose excessive force and tyranny had destroyed the others. The\nTrojans encountered these and extirpated them, Corineus, in\nparticular, signalizing himself by his exploits against them; from\nwhom Cornwall takes its name, for that region fell to his lot, and\nthere the hugest giants dwelt, lurking in rocks and caves, till\nCorineus rid the land of them.\n\nBrutus built his capital city, and called it Trojanova (New Troy),\nchanged in time to Trinovantus, now London;\n\n[Footnote:\n    \"For noble Britons sprong from Trojans bold,\n    And Troynovant was built of old Troy's ashes cold\" SPENSER,\n\n    Book III, Canto IX., 38.]\n\nand, having governed the isle twenty-four years, died, leaving\nthree sons, Locrine, Albanact and Camber. Locrine had the middle\npart, Camber the west, called Cambria from him, and Albanact\nAlbania, now Scotland. Locrine was married to Guendolen, the\ndaughter of Corineus, but having seen a fair maid named Estrildis,\nwho had been brought captive from Germany, he became enamoured of\nher, and had by her a daughter, whose name was Sabra. This matter\nwas kept secret while Corineus lived, but after his death Locrine\ndivorced Guendolen, and made Estrildis his queen. Guendolen, all\nin rage, departed to Cornwall, where Madan, her son, lived, who\nhad been brought up by Corineus, his grandfather. Gathering an\narmy of her father's friends and subjects, she gave battle to her\nhusband's forces and Locrine was slain. Guendolen caused her\nrival, Estrildis, with her daughter Sabra, to be thrown into the\nriver, from which cause the river thenceforth bore the maiden's\nname, which by length of time is now changed into Sabrina or\nSevern. Milton alludes to this in his address to the rivers,--\n\n    \"Severn swift, guilty of maiden's death\";--\n\nand in his \"Comus\" tells the story with a slight variation, thus:\n\n    \"There is a gentle nymph not far from hence,\n    That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream;\n    Sabrina is her name, a virgin pure:\n    Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine,\n    That had the sceptre from his father, Brute,\n    She, guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuit\n    Of her enraged step-dame, Guendolen,\n    Commended her fair innocence to the flood,\n    That stayed her night with his cross-flowing course\n    The water-nymphs that in the bottom played,\n    Held up their pearled wrists and took her in,\n    Bearing her straight to aged Nereus' hall,\n    Who, piteous of her woes, reared her lank head,\n    And gave her to his daughters to imbathe\n    In nectared lavers strewed with asphodel,\n    And through the porch and inlet of each sense\n    Dropped in ambrosial oils till she revived,\n    And underwent a quick, immortal change,\n    Made goddess of the river,\" etc.\n\nIf our readers ask when all this took place, we must answer, in\nthe first place, that mythology is not careful of dates; and next,\nthat, as Brutus was the great-grandson of Aeneas, it must have\nbeen not far from a century subsequent to the Trojan war, or about\neleven hundred years before the invasion of the island by Julius\nCaesar. This long interval is filled with the names of princes\nwhose chief occupation was in warring with one another. Some few,\nwhose names remain connected with places, or embalmed in\nliterature, we will mention.\n\nBLADUD\n\nBladud built the city of Bath, and dedicated the medicinal waters\nto Minerva. He was a man of great invention, and practised the\narts of magic, till, having made him wings to fly, he fell down\nupon the temple of Apollo, in Trinovant, and so died, after twenty\nyears' reign.\n\nLEIR\n\nLeir, who next reigned, built Leicester, and called it after his\nname. He had no male issue, but only three daughters. When grown\nold he determined to divide his kingdom among his daughters, and\nbestow them in marriage. But first, to try which of them loved him\nbest, he determined to ask them solemnly in order, and judge of\nthe warmth of their affection by their answers. Goneril, the\neldest, knowing well her father's weakness, made answer that she\nloved him \"above her soul.\" \"Since thou so honorest my declining\nage,\" said the old man, \"to thee and to thy husband I give the\nthird part of my realm.\" Such good success for a few words soon\nuttered was ample instruction to Regan, the second daughter, what\nto say. She therefore to the same question replied that \"she loved\nhim more than all the world beside;\" and so received an equal\nreward with her sister. But Cordelia, the youngest, and hitherto\nthe best beloved, though having before her eyes the reward of a\nlittle easy soothing, and the loss likely to attend plain-\ndealing, yet was not moved from the solid purpose of a sincere and\nvirtuous answer, and replied: \"Father, my love towards you is as\nmy duty bids. They who pretend beyond this flatter.\" When the old\nman, sorry to hear this, and wishing her to recall these words,\npersisted in asking, she still restrained her expressions so as to\nsay rather less than more than the truth. Then Leir, all in a\npassion, burst forth: \"Since thou hast not reverenced thy aged\nfather like thy sisters, think not to have any part in my kingdom\nor what else I have;\"--and without delay, giving in marriage his\nother daughters, Goneril to the Duke of Albany, and Regan to the\nDuke of Cornwall, he divides his kingdom between them, and goes to\nreside with his eldest daughter, attended only by a hundred\nknights. But in a short time his attendants, being complained of\nas too numerous and disorderly, are reduced to thirty. Resenting\nthat affront, the old king betakes him to his second daughter; but\nshe, instead of soothing his wounded pride, takes part with her\nsister, and refuses to admit a retinue of more than five. Then\nback he returns to the other, who now will not receive him with\nmore than one attendant. Then the remembrance of Cordeilla comes\nto his thoughts, and he takes his journey into France to seek her,\nwith little hope of kind consideration from one whom he had so\ninjured, but to pay her the last recompense he can render,--\nconfession of his injustice. When Cordeilla is informed of his\napproach, and of his sad condition, she pours forth true filial\ntears. And, not willing that her own or others' eyes should see\nhim in that forlorn condition, she sends one of her trusted\nservants to meet him, and convey him privately to some comfortable\nabode, and to furnish him with such state as befitted his dignity.\nAfter which Cordeilla, with the king her husband, went in state to\nmeet him, and, after an honorable reception, the king permitted\nhis wife, Cordeilla, to go with an army and set her father again\nupon his throne. They prospered, subdued the wicked sisters and\ntheir consorts, and Leir obtained the crown and held it three\nyears. Cordeilla succeeded him and reigned five years; but the\nsons of her sisters, after that, rebelled against her, and she\nlost both her crown and life.\n\nShakspeare has chosen this story as the subject of his tragedy of\n\"King Lear,\" varying its details in some respects. The madness of\nLeir, and the ill success of Cordeilla's attempt to reinstate her\nfather, are the principal variations, and those in the names will\nalso be noticed. Our narrative is drawn from Milton's \"History;\"\nand thus the reader will perceive that the story of Leir has had\nthe distinguished honor of being told by the two acknowledged\nchiefs of British literature.\n\nFERREX AND PORREX\n\nFerrex and Porrex were brothers, who held the kingdom after Leir.\nThey quarrelled about the supremacy, and Porrex expelled his\nbrother, who, obtaining aid from Suard, king of the Franks,\nreturned and made war upon Porrex. Ferrex was slain in battle and\nhis forces dispersed. When their mother came to hear of her son's\ndeath, who was her favorite, she fell into a great rage, and\nconceived a mortal hatred against the survivor. She took,\ntherefore, her opportunity when he was asleep, fell upon him, and,\nwith the assistance of her women, tore him in pieces. This horrid\nstory would not be worth relating, were it not for the fact that\nit has furnished the plot for the first tragedy which was written\nin the English language. It was entitled \"Gorboduc,\" but in the\nsecond edition \"Ferrex and Porrex,\" and was the production of\nThomas Sackville, afterwards Earl of Dorset, and Thomas Norton, a\nbarrister. Its date was 1561.\n\nDUNWALLO MOLMUTIUS\n\nThis is the next name of note. Molmutius established the Molmutine\nlaws, which bestowed the privilege of sanctuary on temples,\ncities, and the roads leading to them, and gave the same\nprotection to ploughs, extending a religious sanction to the\nlabors of the field. Shakspeare alludes to him in \"Cymbeline,\" Act\nIII., Scene 1:\n\n    \"... Molmutius made our laws;\n     Who was the first of Britain which did put\n     His brows within a golden crown, and called\n     Himself a king.\"\n\nBRENNUS AND BELINUS,\n\nThe sons of Molmutius, succeeded him. They quarrelled, and Brennus\nwas driven out of the island, and took refuge in Gaul, where he\nmet with such favor from the king of the Allobroges that he gave\nhim his daughter in marriage, and made him his partner on the\nthrone. Brennus is the name which the Roman historians give to the\nfamous leader of the Gauls who took Rome in the time of Camillus.\nGeoffrey of Monmouth claims the glory of the conquest for the\nBritish prince, after he had become king of the Allobroges.\n\nELIDURE\n\nAfter Belinus and Brennus there reigned several kings of little\nnote, and then came Elidure. Arthgallo, his brother, being king,\ngave great offence to his powerful nobles, who rose against him,\ndeposed him, and advanced Elidure to the throne. Arthgallo fled,\nand endeavored to find assistance in the neighboring kingdoms to\nreinstate him, but found none. Elidure reigned prosperously and\nwisely. After five years' possession of the kingdom, one day, when\nhunting, he met in the forest his brother, Arthgallo, who had been\ndeposed. After long wandering, unable longer to bear the poverty\nto which he was reduced, he had returned to Britain, with only ten\nfollowers, designing to repair to those who had formerly been his\nfriends. Elidure, at the sight of his brother in distress,\nforgetting all animosities, ran to him, and embraced him. He took\nArthgallo home with him, and concealed him in the palace. After\nthis he feigned himself sick, and, calling his nobles about him,\ninduced them, partly by persuasion, partly by force, to consent to\nhis abdicating the kingdom, and reinstating his brother on the\nthrone. The agreement being ratified, Elidure took the crown from\nhis own head, and put it on his brother's head. Arthgallo after\nthis reigned ten years, well and wisely, exercisng strict justice\ntowards all men.\n\nHe died, and left the kingdom to his sons, who reigned with\nvarious fortunes, but were not long-lived, and left no offspring,\nso that Elidure was again advanced to the throne, and finished the\ncourse of his life in just and virtuous actions, receiving the\nname of THE PIOUS, from the love and admiration of his subjects.\n\nWordsworth has taken the story of Artegal and Elidure for the\nsubject of a poem, which is No. 2 of \"Poems founded on the\nAffections.\"\n\nLUD\n\nAfter Elidure, the Chronicle names many kings, but none of special\nnote, till we come to Lud, who greatly enlarged Trinovant, his\ncapital, and surrounded it with a wall. He changed its name,\nbestowing upon it his own, so that henceforth it was called Lud's\ntown, afterwards London. Lud was buried by the gate of the city\ncalled after him Ludgate. He had two sons, but they were not old\nenough at the time of their father's death to sustain the cares of\ngovernment, and therefore their uncle, Caswallaun, or\nCassibellaunus, succeeded to the kingdom. He was a brave and\nmagnificent prince, so that his fame reached to distant countries.\n\nCASSIBELLAUNUS\n\nAbout this time it happened (as is found in the Roman histories)\nthat Julius Caesar, having subdued Gaul, came to the shore\nopposite Britain. And having resolved to add this island also to\nhis conquests, he prepared ships and transported his army across\nthe sea, to the mouth of the River Thames. Here he was met by\nCassibellaun with all his forces, and a battle ensued, in which\nNennius, the brother of Cassibellaun, engaged in single combat\nwith Csesar. After several furious blows given and received, the\nsword of Caesar stuck so fast in the shield of Nennius that it\ncould not be pulled out, and the combatants being separated by the\nintervention of the troops Nennius remained possessed of this\ntrophy. At last, after the greater part of the day was spent, the\nBritons poured in so fast that Caesar was forced to retire to his\ncamp and fleet. And finding it useless to continue the war any\nlonger at that time, he returned to Gaul.\n\nShakspeare alludes to Cassibellaunus, in \"Cymbeline\":\n\n    \"The famed Cassibelan, who was once at point\n     (O giglot fortune!) to master Caesar's sword,\n     Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright,\n     And Britons strut with courage.\"\n\nKYMBELINUS, OR CYMBELINE\n\nCaesar, on a second invasion of the island, was more fortunate,\nand compelled the Britons to pay tribute. Cymbeline, the nephew of\nthe king, was delivered to the Romans as a hostage for the\nfaithful fulfilment of the treaty, and, being carried to Rome by\nCaesar, he was there brought up in the Roman arts and\naccomplishments. Being afterwards restored to his country, and\nplaced on the throne, he was attached to the Romans, and continued\nthrough all his reign at peace with them. His sons, Guiderius and\nArviragus, who made their appearance in Shakspeare's play of\n\"Cymbeline,\" succeeded their father, and, refusing to pay tribute\nto the Romans, brought on another invasion. Guiderius was slain,\nbut Arviragus afterward made terms with the Romans, and reigned\nprosperously many years.\n\nARMORICA\n\nThe next event of note is the conquest and colonization of\nArmorica, by Maximus, a Roman general, and Conan, lord of Miniadoc\nor Denbigh-land, in Wales. The name of the country was changed to\nBrittany, or Lesser Britain; and so completely was it possessed by\nthe British colonists, that the language became assimilated to\nthat spoken in Wales, and it is said that to this day the\npeasantry of the two countries can understand each other when\nspeaking their native language.\n\nThe Romans eventually succeeded in establishing themselves in the\nisland, and after the lapse of several generations they became\nblended with the natives so that no distinction existed between\nthe two races. When at length the Roman armies were withdrawn from\nBritain, their departure was a matter of regret to the\ninhabitants, as it left them without protection against the\nbarbarous tribes, Scots, Picts, and Norwegians, who harassed the\ncountry incessantly. This was the state of things when the era of\nKing Arthur began.\n\nThe adventure of Albion, the giant, with Hercules is alluded to by\nSpenser, \"Faery Queene,\" Book IV., Canto xi:\n\n   \"For Albion the son of Neptune was;\n    Who for the proof of his great puissance,\n    Out of his Albion did on dry foot pass\n    Into old Gaul that now is cleped France,\n    To fight with Hercules, that did advance\n    To vanquish all the world with matchless might:\n    And there his mortal part by great mischance\n    Was slain.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nMERLIN\n\n\nMerlin was the son of no mortal father, but of an Incubus, one of\na class of beings not absolutely wicked, but far from good, who\ninhabit the regions of the air. Merlin's mother was a virtuous\nyoung woman, who, on the birth of her son, intrusted him to a\npriest, who hurried him to the baptismal fount, and so saved him\nfrom sharing the lot of his father, though he retained many marks\nof his unearthly origin.\n\nAt this time Vortigern reigned in Britain. He was a usurper, who\nhad caused the death of his sovereign, Moines, and driven the two\nbrothers of the late king, whose names were Uther and Pendragon,\ninto banishment. Vortigern, who lived in constant fear of the\nreturn of the rightful heirs of the kingdom, began to erect a\nstrong tower for defence. The edifice, when brought by the workmen\nto a certain height, three times fell to the ground, without any\napparent cause. The king consulted his astrologers on this\nwonderful event, and learned from them that it would be necessary\nto bathe the corner-stone of the foundation with the blood of a\nchild born without a mortal father.\n\nIn search of such an infant, Vortigern sent his messengers all\nover the kingdom, and they by accident discovered Merlin, whose\nlineage seemed to point him out as the individual wanted. They\ntook him to the king; but Merlin, young as he was, explained to\nthe king the absurdity of attempting to rescue the fabric by such\nmeans, for he told him the true cause of the instability of the\ntower was its being placed over the den of two immense dragons,\nwhose combats shook the earth above them. The king ordered his\nworkmen to dig beneath the tower, and when they had done so they\ndiscovered two enormous serpents, the one white as milk the other\nred as fire. The multitude looked on with amazement, till the\nserpents, slowly rising from their den, and expanding their\nenormous folds, began the combat, when every one fled in terror,\nexcept Merlin, who stood by clapping his hands and cheering on the\nconflict. The red dragon was slain, and the white one, gliding\nthrough a cleft in the rock, disappeared.\n\nThese animals typified, as Merlin afterwards explained, the\ninvasion of Uther and Pendragon, the rightful princes, who soon\nafter landed with a great army. Vortigern was defeated, and\nafterwards burned alive in the castle he had taken such pains to\nconstruct. On the death of Vortigern, Pendragon ascended the\nthrone. Merlin became his chief adviser, and often assisted the\nking by his magical arts.\n\n   \"Merlin, who knew the range of all their arts,\n    Had built the King his havens, ships and halls.\"\n\n    --Vivian.\n\nAmong other endowments, he had the power of transforming himself\ninto any shape he pleased. At one time he appeared as a dwarf, at\nothers as a damsel, a page, or even a greyhound or a stag. This\nfaculty he often employed for the service of the king, and\nsometimes also for the diversion of the court and the sovereign.\n\nMerlin continued to be a favorite counsellor through the reigns of\nPendragon, Uther, and Arthur, and at last disappeared from view,\nand was no more found among men, through the treachery of his\nmistress, Viviane, the Fairy, which happened in this wise.\n\nMerlin, having become enamoured of the fair Viviane, the Lady of\nthe Lake, was weak enough to impart to her various important\nsecrets of his art, being impelled by fatal destiny, of which he\nwas at the same time fully aware. The lady, however, was not\ncontent with his devotion, unbounded as it seems to have been, but\n\"cast about,\" the Romance tells us, how she might \"detain him for\nevermore,\" and one day addressed him in these terms: \"Sir, I would\nthat we should make a fair place and a suitable, so contrived by\nart and by cunning that it might never be undone, and that you and\nI should be there in joy and solace.\" \"My lady,\" said Merlin, \"I\nwill do all this.\" \"Sir,\" said she, \"I would not have you do it,\nbut you shall teach me, and I will do it, and then it will be more\nto my mind.\" \"I grant you this,\" said Merlin. Then he began to\ndevise, and the damsel put it all in writing. And when he had\ndevised the whole, then had the damsel full great joy, and showed\nhim greater semblance of love than she had ever before made, and\nthey sojourned together a long while. At length it fell out that,\nas they were going one day hand in hand through the forest of\nBreceliande, they found a bush of white-thorn, which was laden\nwith flowers; and they seated themselves under the shade of this\nwhite-thorn, upon the green grass, and Merlin laid his head upon\nthe damsel's lap, and fell asleep. Then the damsel rose, and made\na ring with her wimple round the bush, and round Merlin, and began\nher enchantments, such as he himself had taught her; and nine\ntimes she made the ring, and nine times she made the enchantment,\nand then she went and sat down by him, and placed his head again\nupon her lap.\n\n                                 \"And a sleep\n    Fell upon Merlin more like death, so deep\n    Her finger on her lips; then Vivian rose,\n    And from her brown-locked head the wimple throws,\n    And takes it in her hand and waves it over\n    The blossomed thorn tree and her sleeping lover.\n    Nine times she waved the fluttering wimple round,\n    And made a little plot of magic ground.\"\n\n    --Matthew Arnold.\n\nAnd when he awoke, and looked round him, it seemed to him that he\nwas enclosed in the strongest tower in the world, and laid upon a\nfair bed. Then said he to the dame: \"My lady, you have deceived\nme, unless you abide with me, for no one hath power to unmake this\ntower but you alone.\" She then promised she would be often there,\nand in this she held her covenant with him. And Merlin never went\nout of that tower where his Mistress Viviane had enclosed him; but\nshe entered and went out again when she listed.\n\nAfter this event Merlin was never more known to hold converse with\nany mortal but Viviane, except on one occasion. Arthur, having for\nsome time missed him from his court, sent several of his knights\nin search of him, and, among the number, Sir Gawain, who met with\na very unpleasant adventure while engaged in this quest. Happening\nto pass a damsel on his road, and neglecting to salute her, she\nrevenged herself for his incivility by transforming him into a\nhideous dwarf. He was bewailing aloud his evil fortune as he went\nthrough the forest of Breceliande, when suddenly he heard the\nvoice of one groaning on his right hand; and, looking that way, he\ncould see nothing save a kind of smoke, which seemed like air, and\nthrough which he could not pass. Merlin then addressed him from\nout the smoke, and told him by what misadventure he was imprisoned\nthere. \"Ah, sir!\" he added, \"you will never see me more, and that\ngrieves me, but I cannot remedy it; I shall never more speak to\nyou, nor to any other person, save only my mistress. But do thou\nhasten to King Arthur, and charge him from me to undertake,\nwithout delay, the quest of the Sacred Graal. The knight is\nalready born, and has received knighthood at his hands, who is\ndestined to accomplish this quest.\" And after this he comforted\nGawain under his transformation, assuring him that he should\nspeedily be disenchanted; and he predicted to him that he should\nfind the king at Carduel, in Wales, on his return, and that all\nthe other knights who had been on like quest would arrive there\nthe same day as himself. And all this came to pass as Merlin had\nsaid.\n\nMerlin is frequently introduced in the tales of chivalry, but it\nis chiefly on great occasions, and at a period subsequent to his\ndeath, or magical disappearance. In the romantic poems of Italy,\nand in Spenser, Merlin is chiefly represented as a magical artist.\nSpenser represents him as the artificer of the impenetrable shield\nand other armor of Prince Arthur (\"Faery Queene,\" Book I., Canto\nvii.), and of a mirror, in which a damsel viewed her lover's\nshade. The Fountain of Love, in the \"Orlando Innamorata,\" is\ndescribed as his work; and in the poem of \"Ariosto\" we are told of\na hall adorned with prophetic paintings, which demons had executed\nin a single night, under the direction of Merlin.\n\nThe following legend is from Spenser's \"Faery Queene,\" Book III.,\nCanto iii.:\n\nCAER-MERDIN, OR CAERMARTHEN (IN WALES), MERLIN'S TOWER, AND THE\nIMPRISONED FIENDS.\n\n   \"Forthwith themselves disguising both, in straunge\n    And base attire, that none might them bewray,\n    To Maridunum, that is now by chaunge\n    Of name Caer-Merdin called, they took their way:\n    There the wise Merlin whylome wont (they say)\n    To make his wonne, low underneath the ground\n    In a deep delve, far from the view of day,\n    That of no living wight he mote be found,\n  Whenso he counselled with his sprights encompassed round.\n\n   \"And if thou ever happen that same way\n    To travel, go to see that dreadful place;\n    It is a hideous hollow cave (they say)\n    Under a rock that lies a little space\n    From the swift Barry, tombling down apace\n    Amongst the woody hills of Dynevor;\n    But dare not thou, I charge, in any case,\n    To enter into that same baleful bower,\n  For fear the cruel fiends should thee unwares devour.\n\n   \"But standing high aloft, low lay thine ear,\n    And there such ghastly noise of iron chains\n    And brazen cauldrons thou shalt rumbling hear,\n    Which thousand sprites with long enduring pains\n    Do toss, that it will stun thy feeble brains;\n    And oftentimes great groans, and grievous stounds,\n    When too huge toil and labor them constrains;\n    And oftentimes loud strokes and ringing sounds\n  From under that deep rock most horribly rebounds.\n\n   \"The cause some say is this. A little while\n    Before that Merlin died, he did intend\n    A brazen wall in compas to compile\n    About Caermerdin, and did it commend\n    Unto these sprites to bring to perfect end;\n    During which work the Lady of the Lake,\n    Whom long he loved, for him in haste did send;\n    Who, thereby forced his workmen to forsake,\n  Them bound till his return their labor not to slack.\n\n   \"In the mean time, through that false lady's train,\n    He was surprised, and buried under beare,\n    He ever to his work returned again;\n    Nathless those fiends may not their work forbear,\n    So greatly his commandement they fear;\n    But there do toil and travail day and night,\n    Until that brazen wall they up do rear.\n    For Merlin had in magic more insight\n  Than ever him before or after living wight.\"\n\n[Footnote: Buried under beare. Buried under something which\nenclosed him like a coffin or bier.]\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nARTHUR\n\n\nWe shall begin our history of King Arthur by giving those\nparticulars of his life which appear to rest on historical\nevidence; and then proceed to record those legends concerning him\nwhich form the earliest portion of British literature.\n\nArthur was a prince of the tribe of Britons called Silures, whose\ncountry was South Wales, the son of Uther, named Pendragon, a\ntitle given to an elective sovereign, paramount over the many\nkings of Britain. He appears to have commenced his martial career\nabout the year 500, and was raised to the Pendragonship about ten\nyears later. He is said to have gained twelve victories over the\nSaxons. The most important of them was that of Badon, by some\nsupposed to be Bath, by others Berkshire. This was the last of his\nbattles with the Saxons, and checked their progress so\neffectually, that Arthur experienced no more annoyance from them,\nand reigned in peace, until the revolt of his nephew Modred,\ntwenty years later, which led to the fatal battle of Camlan, in\nCornwall, in 542. Modred was slain, and Arthur, mortally wounded,\nwas conveyed by sea to Glastonbury, where he died, and was buried.\nTradition preserved the memory of the place of his interment\nwithin the abbey, as we are told by Giraldus Cambrensis, who was\npresent when the grave was opened by command of Henry II. about\n1150, and saw the bones and sword of the monarch, and a leaden\ncross let into his tombstone, with the inscription in rude Roman\nletters, \"Here lies buried the famous King Arthur, in the island\nAvalonia.\" This story has been elegantly versified by Warton. A\npopular traditional belief was long entertained among the Britons,\nthat Arthur was not dead, but had been carried off to be healed of\nhis wounds in Fairy-land, and that he would reappear to avenge his\ncountrymen and reinstate them in the sovereignty of Britain. In\nWarton's \"Ode\" a bard relates to King Henry the traditional story\nof Arthur's death, and closes with these lines.\n\n   \"Yet in vain a paynim foe\n    Armed with fate the mighty blow:\n    For when he fell, the Elfin queen,\n    All in secret and unseen,\n    O'er the fainting hero threw\n    Her mantle of ambrosial blue,\n    And bade her spirits bear him far,\n    In Merlin's agate-axled car,\n    To her green isle's enamelled steep,\n    Far in the navel of the deep.\n    O'er his wounds she sprinkled dew\n    From flowers that in Arabia grew.\n\n    There he reigns a mighty king,\n    Thence to Britain shall return,\n    If right prophetic rolls I learn,\n    Borne on victory's spreading plume,\n    His ancient sceptre to resume,\n    His knightly table to restore,\n    And brave the tournaments of yore.\"\n\nAfter this narration another bard came forward who recited a\ndifferent story:\n\n   \"When Arthur bowed his haughty crest,\n    No princess veiled in azure vest\n    Snatched him, by Merlin's powerful spell,\n    In groves of golden bliss to dwell;\n    But when he fell, with winged speed,\n    His champions, on a milk-white steed,\n    From the battle's hurricane,\n    Bore him to Joseph's towered fane,\n    In the fair vale of Avalon;\n    There, with chanted orison\n    And the long blaze of tapers clear,\n    The stoled fathers met the bier;\n    Through the dim aisles, in order dread\n    Of martial woe, the chief they led,\n    And deep entombed in holy ground,\n    Before the altar's solemn bound.\"\n\n[Footnote: Glastonbury Abbey, said to be founded by Joseph of\nArimathea, in a spot anciently called the island or valley of\nAvalonia.\n\nTennyson, in his \"Palace of Art,\" alludes to the legend of\nArthur's rescue by the Faery queen, thus:\n\n   \"Or mythic Uther's deeply wounded son,\n      In some fair space of sloping greens,\n    Lay dozing in the vale of Avalon,\n      And watched by weeping queens.\"]\n\nIt must not be concealed that the very existence of Arthur has\nbeen denied by some. Milton says of him: \"As to Arthur, more\nrenowned in songs and romances than in true stories, who he was,\nand whether ever any such reigned in Britain, hath been doubted\nheretofore, and may again, with good reason.\" Modern critics,\nhowever, admit that there was a prince of this name, and find\nproof of it in the frequent mention of him in the writings of the\nWelsh bards. But the Arthur of romance, according to Mr. Owen, a\nWelsh scholar and antiquarian, is a mythological person. \"Arthur,\"\nhe says, \"is the Great Bear, as the name literally implies\n(Arctos, Arcturus), and perhaps this constellation, being so near\nthe pole, and visibly describing a circle in a small space, is the\norigin of the famous Round Table.\"\n\nKING ARTHUR\n\nConstans, king of Britain, had three sons, Moines, Ambrosius,\notherwise called Uther, and Pendragon. Moines, soon after his\naccession to the crown, was vanquished by the Saxons, in\nconsequence of the treachery of his seneschal, Vortigern, and\ngrowing unpopular, through misfortune, he was killed by his\nsubjects, and the traitor Vortigern chosen in his place.\n\nVortigern was soon after defeated in a great battle by Uther and\nPendragon, the surviving brothers of Moines, and Pendragon\nascended the throne.\n\nThis prince had great confidence in the wisdom of Merlin, and made\nhim his chief adviser. About this time a dreadful war arose\nbetween the Saxons and Britons. Merlin obliged the royal brothers\nto swear fidelity to each other, but predicted that one of them\nmust fall in the first battle. The Saxons were routed, and\nPendragon, being slain, was succeeded by Uther, who now assumed in\naddition to his own name the appellation of Pendragon.\n\nMerlin still continued a favorite counsellor. At the request of\nUther he transported by magic art enormous stones from Ireland, to\nform the sepulchre of Pendragon. These stones constitute the\nmonument now called Stonehenge, on Salisbury plain.\n\nMerlin next proceeded to Carlisle to prepare the Round Table, at\nwhich he seated an assemblage of the great nobles of the country.\nThe companions admitted to this high order were bound by oath to\nassist each other at the hazard of their own lives, to attempt\nsingly the most perilous adventures, to lead, when necessary, a\nlife of monastic solitude, to fly to arms at the first summons,\nand never to retire from battle till they had defeated the enemy,\nunless night intervened and separated the combatants.\n\nSoon after this institution, the king invited all his barons to\nthe celebration of a great festival, which he proposed holding\nannually at Carlisle.\n\nAs the knights had obtained the sovereign's permission to bring\ntheir ladies along with them, the beautiful Igerne accompanied her\nhusband, Gorlois, Duke of Tintadel, to one of these anniversaries.\nThe king became deeply enamoured of the duchess, and disclosed his\npassion; but Igerne repelled his advances, and revealed his\nsolicitations to her husband. On hearing this, the duke instantly\nremoved from court with Igerne, and without taking leave of Uther.\nThe king complained to his council of this want of duty, and they\ndecided that the duke should be summoned to court, and, if\nrefractory, should be treated as a rebel. As he refused to obey\nthe citation, the king carried war into the estates of his vassal\nand besieged him in the strong castle of Tintadel. Merlin\ntransformed the king into the likeness of Gorlois, and enabled him\nto have many stolen interviews with Igerne. At length the duke was\nkilled in battle and the king espoused Igerne.\n\nFrom this union sprang Arthur, who succeeded his father, Uther,\nupon the throne.\n\nARTHUR CHOSEN KING\n\nArthur, though only fifteen years old at his father's death, was\nelected king, at a general meeting of the nobles. It was not done\nwithout opposition, for there were many ambitious competitors.\n\n   \"For while he linger'd there\n    A doubt that ever smoulder'd in the hearts\n    Of those great Lords and Barons of his realm\n    Flash'd forth and into war: for most of these\n    Made head against him, crying, 'Who is he\n    That he should rule us? who hath proven him\n    King Uther's son? for lo! we look at him,\n    And find nor face nor bearing, limbs nor voice,\n    Are like to those of Uther whom we knew.\"\n\n    --Coming of Arthur.\n\nBut Bishop Brice, a person of great sanctity, on Christmas eve\naddressed the assembly, and represented that it would well become\nthem, at that solemn season, to put up their prayers for some\ntoken which should manifest the intentions of Providence\nrespecting their future sovereign. This was done, and with such\nsuccess, that the service was scarcely ended when a miraculous\nstone was discovered before the church door, and in the stone was\nfirmly fixed a sword, with the following words engraven on its\nhilt:\n\n   \"I am hight Escalibore,\n    Unto a king fair tresore.\"\n\nBishop Brice, after exhorting the assembly to offer up their\nthanksgiving for this signal miracle, proposed a law, that whoever\nshould be able to draw out the sword from the stone, should be\nacknowledged as sovereign of the Britons; and his proposal was\ndecreed by general acclamation. The tributary kings of Uther, and\nthe most famous knights, successively put their strength to the\nproof, but the miraculous sword resisted all their efforts. It\nstood till Candlemas; it stood till Easter, and till Pentecost,\nwhen the best knights in the kingdom usually assembled for the\nannual tournament. Arthur, who was at that time serving in the\ncapacity of squire to his foster-brother, Sir Kay, attended his\nmaster to the lists. Sir Kay fought with great valor and success,\nbut had the misfortune to break his sword, and sent Arthur to his\nmother for a new one. Arthur hastened home, but did not find the\nlady; but having observed near the church a sword, sticking in a\nstone, he galloped to the place, drew out the sword with great\nease, and delivered it to his master. Sir Kay would willingly have\nassumed to himself the distinction conferred by the possession of\nthe sword, but when, to confirm the doubters, the sword was\nreplaced in the stone he was utterly unable to withdraw it, and it\nwould yield a second time to no hand but Arthur's. Thus decisively\npointed out by Heaven as their king, Arthur was by general consent\nproclaimed as such, and an early day appointed for his solemn\ncoronation.\n\nImmediately after his election to the crown, Arthur found himself\nopposed by eleven kings and one duke, who with a vast army were\nactually encamped in the forest of Rockingham. By Merlin's advice\nArthur sent an embassy to Brittany, to solicit the aid of King Ban\nand King Bohort, two of the best knights in the world. They\naccepted the call, and with a powerful army crossed the sea,\nlanding at Portsmouth, where they were received with great\nrejoicing. The rebel kings were still superior in numbers; but\nMerlin, by a powerful enchantment, caused all their tents to fall\ndown at once, and in the confusion Arthur with his allies fell\nupon them and totally routed them.\n\nAfter defeating the rebels, Arthur took the field against the\nSaxons. As they were too strong for him unaided, he sent an\nembassy to Armorica, beseeching the assistance of Hoel, who soon\nafter brought over an army to his aid. The two kings joined their\nforces, and sought the enemy, whom they met, and both sides\nprepared for a decisive engagement. \"Arthur himself,\" as Geoffrey\nof Monmouth relates, \"dressed in a breastplate worthy of so great\na king, places on his head a golden helmet engraved with the\nsemblance of a dragon. Over his shoulders he throws his shield\ncalled Priwen, on which a picture of the Holy Virgin constantly\nrecalled her to his memory. Girt with Caliburn, a most excellent\nsword, and fabricated in the isle of Avalon, he graces his right\nhand with the lance named Ron. This was a long and broad spear,\nwell contrived for slaughter.\" After a severe conflict, Arthur,\ncalling on the name of the Virgin, rushes into the midst of his\nenemies, and destroys multitudes of them with the formidable\nCaliburn, and puts the rest to flight. Hoel, being detained by\nsickness, took no part in this battle.\n\nThis is called the victory of Mount Badon, and, however disguised\nby fable, it is regarded by historians as a real event.\n\nThe feats performed by Arthur at the battle of Badon Mount are\nthus celebrated in Drayton's verse:\n\n    \"They sung how he himself at Badon bore, that day,\n    When at the glorious goal his British sceptre lay;\n    Two daies together how the battel stronglie stood;\n    Pendragon's worthie son, who waded there in blood,\n    Three hundred Saxons slew with his owne valiant hand.\"\n\n    --Song IV.\n\nGUENEVER\n\nMerlin had planned for Arthur a marriage with the daughter of King\nLaodegan of Carmalide. By his advice Arthur paid a visit to the\ncourt of that sovereign, attended only by Merlin and by thirty-\nnine knights whom the magician had selected for that service. On\ntheir arrival they found Laodegan and his peers sitting in\ncouncil, endeavoring, but with small prospect of success, to\ndevise means of resisting the impending attack of Ryence, king of\nIreland, who, with fifteen tributary kings and an almost\ninnumerable army, had nearly surrounded the city. Merlin, who\nacted as leader of the band of British knights, announced them as\nstrangers, who came to offer the king their services in his wars;\nbut under the express condition that they should be at liberty to\nconceal their names and quality until they should think proper to\ndivulge them. These terms were thought very strange, but were\nthankfully accepted, and the strangers, after taking the usual\noath to the king, retired to the lodging which Merlin had prepared\nfor them.\n\nA few days after this, the enemy, regardless of a truce into which\nthey had entered with King Laodegan, suddenly issued from their\ncamp and made an attempt to surprise the city. Cleodalis, the\nking's general, assembled the royal forces with all possible\ndespatch. Arthur and his companions also flew to arms, and Merlin\nappeared at their head, bearing a standard on which was emblazoned\na terrific dragon. Merlin advanced to the gate, and commanded the\nporter to open it, which the porter refused to do, without the\nking's order. Merlin thereupon took up the gate, with all its\nappurtenances of locks, bars, bolts, etc., and directed his troops\nto pass through, after which he replaced it in perfect order. He\nthen set spurs to his horse and dashed, at the head of his little\ntroop, into a body of two thousand pagans. The disparity of\nnumbers being so enormous, Merlin cast a spell upon the enemy, so\nas to prevent their seeing the small number of their assailants;\nnotwithstanding which the British knights were hard pressed. But\nthe people of the city, who saw from the walls this unequal\ncontest, were ashamed of leaving the small body of strangers to\ntheir fate, so they opened the gate and sallied forth. The numbers\nwere now more nearly equal, and Merlin revoked his spell, so that\nthe two armies encountered on fair terms. Where Arthur, Ban,\nBohort, and the rest fought the king's army had the advantage; but\nin another part of the field the king himself was surrounded and\ncarried off by the enemy. The sad sight was seen by Guenever, the\nfair daughter of the king, who stood on the city wall and looked\nat the battle. She was in dreadful distress, tore her hair, and\nswooned away.\n\nBut Merlin, aware of what passed in every part of the field,\nsuddenly collected his knights, led them out of the battle,\nintercepted the passage of the party who were carrying away the\nking, charged them with irresistible impetuosity, cut in pieces or\ndispersed the whole escort, and rescued the king. In the fight\nArthur encountered Caulang, a giant fifteen feet high, and the\nfair Guenever, who had already began to feel a strong interest in\nthe handsome young stranger, trembled for the issue of the\ncontest. But Arthur, dealing a dreadful blow on the shoulder of\nthe monster, cut through his neck so that his head hung over on\none side, and in this condition his horse carried him about the\nfield, to the great horror and dismay of the Pagans. Guenever\ncould not refrain from expressing aloud her wish that the gentle\nknight, who dealt with giants so dexterously, were destined to\nbecome her husband, and the wish was echoed by her attendants. The\nenemy soon turned their backs and fled with precipitation, closely\npursued by Laodegan and his allies.\n\nAfter the battle Arthur was disarmed and conducted to the bath by\nthe princess Guenever, while his friends were attended by the\nother ladies of the court. After the bath the knights were\nconducted to a magnificent entertainment, at which they were\ndiligently served by the same fair attendants. Laodegan, more and\nmore anxious to know the name and quality of his generous\ndeliverers, and occasionally forming a secret wish that the chief\nof his guests might be captivated by the charms of his daughter,\nappeared silent and pensive, and was scarcely roused from his\nreverie by the banters of his courtiers. Arthur, having had an\nopportunity of explaining to Guenever his great esteem for her\nmerit, was in the joy of his heart, and was still further\ndelighted by hearing from Merlin the late exploits of Gawain at\nLondon, by means of which his immediate return to his dominions\nwas rendered unnecessary, and he was left at liberty to protract\nhis stay at the court of Laodegan. Every day contributed to\nincrease the admiration of the whole court for the gallant\nstrangers, and the passion of Guenever for their chief; and when\nat last Merlin announced to the king that the object of the visit\nof the party was to procure a bride for their leader, Laodegan at\nonce presented Guenever to Arthur, telling him that, whatever\nmight be his rank, his merit was sufficient to entitle him to the\npossession of the heiress of Carmalide.\n\n   \"And could he find a woman in her womanhood\n    As great as he was in his manhood--\n    The twain together might change the world.\"\n\n    --Guinevere.\n\nArthur accepted the lady with the utmost gratitude, and Merlin\nthen proceeded to satisfy the king of the rank of his son-in-law;\nupon which Laodegan, with all his barons, hastened to do homage to\ntheir lawful sovereign, the successor of Uther Pendragon. The fair\nGuenever was then solemnly betrothed to Arthur, and a magnificent\nfestival was proclaimed, which lasted seven days. At the end of\nthat time, the enemy appearing again with renewed force, it became\nnecessary to resume military operations. [Footnote: Guenever, the\nname of Arthur's queen, also written Genievre and Geneura, is\nfamiliar to all who are conversant with chivalric lore. It is to\nher adventures, and those of her true knight, Sir Launcelot, that\nDante alludes in the beautiful episode of Francesca di Rimini.]\n\nWe must now relate what took place at and near London, while\nArthur was absent from his capital. At this very time a band of\nyoung heroes were on their way to Arthur's court, for the purpose\nof receiving knighthood from him. They were Gawain and his three\nbrothers, nephews of Arthur, sons of King Lot, and Galachin,\nanother nephew, son of King Nanters. King Lot had been one of the\nrebel chiefs whom Arthur had defeated, but he now hoped by means\nof the young men to be reconciled to his brother-in-law. He\nequipped his sons and his nephew with the utmost magnificence,\ngiving them a splendid retinue of young men, sons of earls and\nbarons, all mounted on the best horses, with complete suits of\nchoice armor. They numbered in all seven hundred, but only nine\nhad yet received the order of knighthood; the rest were candidates\nfor that honor, and anxious to earn it by an early encounter with\nthe enemy. Gawain, the leader, was a knight of wonderful strength;\nbut what was most remarkable about him was that his strength was\ngreater at certain hours of the day than at others. From nine\no'clock till noon his strength was doubled, and so it was from\nthree to evensong; for the rest of the time it was less\nremarkable, though at all times surpassing that of ordinary men.\n\nAfter a march of three days they arrived in the vicinity of\nLondon, where they expected to find Arthur and his court, and very\nunexpectedly fell in with a large convoy belonging to the enemy,\nconsisting of numerous carts and wagons, all loaded with\nprovisions, and escorted by three thousand men, who had been\ncollecting spoil from all the country round. A single charge from\nGawain's impetuous cavalry was sufficient to disperse the escort\nand recover the convoy, which was instantly despatched to London.\nBut before long a body of seven thousand fresh soldiers advanced\nto the attack of the five princes and their little army. Gawain,\nsingling out a chief named Choas, of gigantic size, began the\nbattle by splitting him from the crown of the head to the breast.\nGalachin encountered King Sanagran, who was also very huge, and\ncut off his head. Agrivain and Gahariet also performed prodigies\nof valor. Thus they kept the great army of assailants at bay,\nthough hard pressed, till of a sudden they perceived a strong body\nof the citizens advancing from London, where the convoy which had\nbeen recovered by Gawain had arrived, and informed the mayor and\ncitizens of the danger of their deliverer. The arrival of the\nLondoners soon decided the contest. The enemy fled in all\ndirections, and Gawain and his friends, escorted by the grateful\ncitizens, entered London, and were received with acclamations.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nARTHUR (Continued)\n\n\nAfter the great victory of Mount Badon, by which the Saxons were\nfor the time effectually put down, Arthur turned his arms against\nthe Scots and Picts, whom he routed at Lake Lomond, and compelled\nto sue for mercy. He then went to York to keep his Christmas, and\nemployed himself in restoring the Christian churches which the\nPagans had rifled and overthrown. The following summer he\nconquered Ireland, and then made a voyage with his fleet to\nIceland, which he also subdued. The kings of Gothland and of the\nOrkneys came voluntarily and made their submission, promising to\npay tribute. Then he returned to Britain, where, having\nestablished the kingdom, he dwelt twelve years in peace.\n\nDuring this time he invited over to him all persons whatsoever\nthat were famous for valor in foreign nations, and augmented the\nnumber of his domestics, and introduced such politeness into his\ncourt as people of the remotest countries thought worthy of their\nimitation. So that there was not a nobleman who thought himself of\nany consideration unless his clothes and arms were made in the\nsame fashion as those of Arthur's knights.\n\nFinding himself so powerful at home, Arthur began to form designs\nfor extending his power abroad. So, having prepared his fleet, he\nfirst attempted Norway, that he might procure the crown of it for\nLot, his sister's husband. Arthur landed in Norway, fought a great\nbattle with the king of that country, defeated him, and pursued\nthe victory till he had reduced the whole country under his\ndominion, and established Lot upon the throne. Then Arthur made a\nvoyage to Gaul and laid siege to the city of Paris. Gaul was at\nthat time a Roman province, and governed by Flollo, the Tribune.\nWhen the siege of Paris had continued a month, and the people\nbegan to suffer from famine, Flollo challenged Arthur to single\ncombat, proposing to decide the conquest of the province in that\nway. Arthur gladly accepted the challenge, and slew his adversary\nin the contest, upon which the citizens surrendered the city to\nhim. After the victory Arthur divided his army into two parts, one\nof which he committed to the conduct of Hoel, whom he ordered to\nmarch into Aquitaine, while he with the other part should endeavor\nto subdue the other provinces. At the end of nine years, in which\ntime all the parts of Gaul were entirely reduced, Arthur returned\nto Paris, where he kept his court, and, calling an assembly of the\nclergy and people, established peace and the just administration\nof the laws in that kingdom. Then he bestowed Normandy upon\nBedver, his butler, and the province of Andegavia upon Kay, his\nsteward, [Footnote: This name, in the French romances, is spelled\nQueux, which means head cook. This would seem to imply that it was\na title, and not a name; yet the personage who bore it is never\nmentioned by any other. He is the chief, if not the only, comic\ncharacter among the heroes of Arthur's court. He is the Seneschal\nor Steward, his duties also embracing those of chief of the cooks.\nIn the romances, his general character is a compound of valor and\nbuffoonery, always ready to fight, and generally getting the worst\nof the battle. He is also sarcastic and abusive in his remarks, by\nwhich he often gets into trouble. Yet Arthur seems to have an\nattachment to him, and often takes his advice, which is generally\nwrong.] and several other provinces upon his great men that\nattended him. And, having settled the peace of the cities and\ncountries, he returned back in the beginning of spring to Britain.\n\nUpon the approach of the feast of Pentecost, Arthur, the better to\ndemonstrate his joy after such triumphant successes, and for the\nmore solemn observation of that festival, and reconciling the\nminds of the princes that were now subject to him, resolved during\nthat season to hold a magnificent court, to place the crown upon\nhis head, and to invite all the kings and dukes under his\nsubjection to the solemnity. And he pitched upon Caerleon, the\nCity of Legions, as the proper place for his purpose. For, besides\nits great wealth above the other cities, its situation upon the\nriver Usk, near the Severn sea, was most pleasant and fit for so\ngreat a solemnity. For on one side it was washed by that noble\nriver, so that the kings and princes from the countries beyond the\nseas might have the convenience of sailing up to it. On the other\nside the beauty of the meadows and groves, and magnificence of the\nroyal palaces, with lofty gilded roofs that adorned it, made it\neven rival the grandeur of Rome. It was also famous for two\nchurches, whereof one was adorned with a choir of virgins, who\ndevoted themselves wholly to the service of God, and the other\nmaintained a convent of priests. Besides, there was a college of\ntwo hundred philosophers, who, being learned in astronomy and the\nother arts, were diligent in observing the courses of the stars,\nand gave Arthur true predictions of the events that would happen.\nIn this place, therefore, which afforded such delights, were\npreparations made for the ensuing festival.\n\n[Footnote: Several cities are allotted to King Arthur by the\nromance-writers. The principal are Caerleon, Camelot, and\nCarlisle.\n\nCaerleon derives its name from its having been the station of one\nof the legions, during the dominion of the Romans. It is called by\nLatin writers Urbs Legionum, the City of Legions. The former word\nbeing rendered into Welsh by Caer, meaning city, and the latter\ncontracted into lleon. The river Usk retains its name in modern\ngeography, and there is a town or city of Caerleon upon it, though\nthe city of Cardiff is thought to be the scene of Arthur's court.\nChester also bears in Welsh the name of Caerleon; for Chester,\nderived from castra, Latin for camp, is the designation of\nmilitary headquarters.\n\nCamelot is thought to be Winchester.\n\nShalott is Guilford.\n\nHamo's Port is Southampton.\n\nCarlisle is the city still retaining that name, near the Scottish\nborder. But this name is also sometimes applied to other places,\nwhich were, like itself, military stations.]\n\nAmbassadors were then sent into several kingdoms, to invite to\ncourt the princes both of Gaul and of the adjacent islands.\nAccordingly there came Augusel, king of Albania, now Scotland,\nCadwallo, king of Venedotia, now North Wales, Sater, king of\nDemetia, now South Wales; also the archbishops of the metropolitan\nsees, London and York, and Dubricius, bishop of Caerleon, the City\nof Legions. This prelate, who was primate of Britain, was so\neminent for his piety that he could cure any sick person by his\nprayers. There were also the counts of the principal cities, and\nmany other worthies of no less dignity.\n\nFrom the adjacent islands came Guillamurius, king of Ireland,\nGunfasius, king of the Orkneys, Malvasius, king of Iceland, Lot,\nking of Norway, Bedver, the butler, Duke of Normandy, Kay, the\nsewer, Duke of Andegavia; also the twelve peers of Gaul, and Hoel,\nDuke of the Armorican Britons, with his nobility, who came with\nsuch a train of mules, horses, and rich furniture as it is\ndifficult to describe. Besides these there remained no prince of\nany consideration on this side of Spain who came not upon this\ninvitation. And no wonder, when Arthur's munificence, which was\ncelebrated over the whole world, made him beloved by all people.\n\nWhen all were assembled upon the day of the solemnity the\narchbishops were conducted to the palace, in order to place the\ncrown upon the king's head. Then Dubricius, inasmuch as the court\nwas held in his diocese, made himself ready to celebrate the\noffice. As soon as the king was invested with his royal\nhabiliments he was conducted in great pomp to the metropolitan\nchurch, having four kings, viz., of Albania, Cornwall, Demetia,\nand Venedotia, bearing four golden swords before him. On another\npart was the queen, dressed out in her richest ornaments,\nconducted by the archbishops and bishops to the Church of Virgins;\nthe four queens, also, of the kings last mentioned, bearing before\nher four white doves, according to ancient custom. When the whole\nprocession was ended so transporting was the harmony of the\nmusical instruments and voices, whereof there was a vast variety\nin both churches, that the knights who attended were in doubt\nwhich to prefer, and therefore crowded from the one to the other\nby turns, and were far from being tired of the solemnity, though\nthe whole day had been spent in it. At last, when divine service\nwas over at both churches, the king and queen put off their\ncrowns, and, putting on their lighter ornaments, went to the\nbanquet. When they had all taken their seats according to\nprecedence, Kay, the sewer, in rich robes of ermine, with a\nthousand young noblemen all in like manner clothed in rich attire,\nserved up the dishes. From another part Bedver, the butler, was\nfollowed by the same number of attendants, who waited with all\nkinds of cups and drinking-vessels. And there was food and drink\nin abundance, and everything was of the best kind, and served in\nthe best manner. For at that time Britain had arrived at such a\npitch of grandeur that in riches, luxury, and politeness it far\nsurpassed all other kingdoms.\n\nAs soon as the banquets were over they went into the fields\nwithout the city to divert themselves with various sports, such as\nshooting with bows and arrows, tossing the pike, casting of heavy\nstones and rocks, playing at dice, and the like, and all these\ninoffensively, and without quarrelling. In this manner were three\ndays spent, and after that they separated, and the kings and\nnoblemen departed to their several homes.\n\nAfter this Arthur reigned five years in peace. Then came\nambassadors from Lucius Tiberius, Procurator under Leo, Emperor of\nRome, demanding tribute. But Arthur refused to pay tribute, and\nprepared for war. As soon as the necessary dispositions were made\nhe committed the government of his kingdom to his nephew Modred\nand to Queen Guenever, and marched with his army to Hamo's Port,\nwhere the wind stood fair for him. The army crossed over in\nsafety, and landed at the mouth of the river Barba. And there they\npitched their tents to wait the arrival of the kings of the\nislands.\n\nAs soon as all the forces were arrived Arthur marched forward to\nAugustodunum, and encamped on the banks of the river Alba. Here\nrepeated battles were fought, in all which the Britons, under\ntheir valiant leaders, Hoel, Duke of Armorica, and Gawain, nephew\nto Arthur, had the advantage. At length Lucius Tiberius determined\nto retreat, and wait for the Emperor Leo to join him with fresh\ntroops. But Arthur, anticipating this event, took possession of a\ncertain valley, and closed up the way of retreat to Lucius,\ncompelling him to fight a decisive battle, in which Arthur lost\nsome of the bravest of his knights and most faithful followers.\nBut on the other hand Lucius Tiberius was slain, and his army\ntotally defeated. The fugitives dispersed over the country, some\nto the by-ways and woods, some to cities and towns, and all other\nplaces where they could hope for safety.\n\nArthur stayed in those parts till the next winter was over, and\nemployed his time in restoring order and settling the government.\nHe then returned into England, and celebrated his victories with\ngreat splendor.\n\nThen the king stablished all his knights, and to them that were\nnot rich he gave lands, and charged them all never to do outrage\nnor murder, and always to flee treason; also, by no means to be\ncruel, but to give mercy unto him that asked mercy, upon pain of\nforfeiture of their worship and lordship; and always to do ladies,\ndamosels, and gentlewomen service, upon pain of death. Also that\nno man take battle in a wrongful quarrel, for no law, nor for any\nworld's goods. Unto this were all the knights sworn of the Table\nRound, both old and young. And at every year were they sworn at\nthe high feast of Pentecost.\n\nKING ARTHUR SLAYS THE GIANT OF ST. MICHAEL'S MOUNT\n\nWhile the army was encamped in Brittany, awaiting the arrival of\nthe kings, there came a countryman to Arthur, and told him that a\ngiant, whose cave was on a neighboring mountain, called St.\nMichael's Mount, had for a long time been accustomed to carry off\nthe children of the peasants to devour them. \"And now he hath\ntaken the Duchess of Brittany, as she rode with her attendants,\nand hath carried her away in spite of all they could do.\" \"Now,\nfellow,\" said King Arthur, \"canst thou bring me there where this\ngiant haunteth?\" \"Yea, sure,\" said the good man; \"lo, yonder where\nthou seest two great fires, there shalt thou find him, and more\ntreasure than I suppose is in all France beside.\" Then the king\ncalled to him Sir Bedver and Sir Kay, and commanded them to make\nready horse and harness for himself and them; for after evening he\nwould ride on pilgrimage to St. Michael's Mount.\n\nSo they three departed, and rode forth till they came to the foot\nof the mount. And there the king commanded them to tarry, for he\nwould himself go up into that mount. So he ascended the hill till\nhe came to a great fire, and there he found an aged woman sitting\nby a new-made grave, making great sorrow. Then King Arthur saluted\nher, and demanded of her wherefore she made such lamentation; to\nwhom she answered: \"Sir knight, speak low, for yonder is a devil,\nand if he hear thee speak, he will come and destroy thee. For ye\ncannot make resistance to him, he is so fierce and so strong. He\nhath murdered the Duchess, which here lieth, who was the fairest\nof all the world, wife to Sir Hoel, Duke of Brittany.\" \"Dame,\"\nsaid the king, \"I come from the noble conqueror, King Arthur, to\ntreat with that tyrant.\" \"Fie on such treaties,\" said she; \"he\nsetteth not by the king, nor by no man else.\" \"Well,\" said Arthur,\n\"I will accomplish my message for all your fearful words.\" So he\nwent forth by the crest of the hill, and saw where the giant sat\nat supper, gnawing on the limb of a man, and baking his broad\nlimbs at the fire, and three fair damsels lying bound, whose lot\nit was to be devoured in their turn. When King Arthur beheld that,\nhe had great compassion on them, so that his heart bled for\nsorrow. Then he hailed the giant, saying, \"He that all the world\nruleth give thee short life and shameful death. Why hast thou\nmurdered this Duchess? Therefore come forth, for this day thou\nshalt die by my hand.\" Then the giant started up, and took a great\nclub, and smote at the king, and smote off his coronal; and then\nthe king struck him in the belly with his sword, and made a\nfearful wound. Then the giant threw away his club, and caught the\nking in his arms, so that he crushed his ribs. Then the three\nmaidens kneeled down and prayed for help and comfort for Arthur.\nAnd Arthur weltered and wrenched, so that he was one while under,\nand another time above. And so weltering and wallowing they rolled\ndown the hill, and ever as they weltered Arthur smote him with his\ndagger; and it fortuned they came to the place where the two\nknights were. And when they saw the king fast in the giant's arms\nthey came and loosed him. Then the king commanded Sir Kay to smite\noff the giant's head, and to set it on the truncheon of a spear,\nand fix it on the barbican, that all the people might see and\nbehold it. This was done, and anon it was known through all the\ncountry, wherefor the people came and thanked the king. And he\nsaid, \"Give your thanks to God; and take ye the giant's spoil and\ndivide it among you.\" And King Arthur caused a church to be\nbuilded on that hill, in honor of St. Michael.\n\nKING ARTHUR GETS A SWORD FROM THE LADY OF THE LAKE\n\nOne day King Arthur rode forth, and on a sudden he was ware of\nthree churls chasing Merlin, to have slain him. And the king rode\nunto them and bade them, \"Flee, churls!\" Then were they afraid\nwhen they saw a knight, and fled. \"O Merlin,\" said Arthur, \"here\nhadst thou been slain, for all thy crafts, had I not been by.\"\n\"Nay,\" said Merlin, \"not so, for I could save myself if I would;\nbut thou art more near thy death than I am.\" So, as they went thus\ntalking, King Arthur perceived where sat a knight on horseback, as\nif to guard the pass. \"Sir knight,\" said Arthur, \"for what cause\nabidest thou here?\" Then the knight said, \"There may no knight\nride this way unless he just with me, for such is the custom of\nthe pass.\" \"I will amend that custom,\" said the king. Then they\nran together, and they met so hard that their spears were\nshivered. Then they drew their swords and fought a strong battle,\nwith many great strokes. But at length the sword of the knight\nsmote King Arthur's sword in two pieces. Then said the knight unto\nArthur, \"Thou art in my power, whether to save thee or slay thee,\nand unless thou yield thee as overcome and recreant, thou shalt\ndie.\" \"As for death,\" said King Arthur, \"welcome be it when it\ncometh; but to yield me unto thee as recreant, I will not.\" Then\nhe leapt upon the knight, and took him by the middle and threw him\ndown; but the knight was a passing strong man, and anon he brought\nArthur under him, and would have razed off his helm to slay him.\nThen said Merlin, \"Knight, hold thy hand, for this knight is a man\nof more worship than thou art aware of.\" \"Why, who is he?\" said\nthe knight. \"It is King Arthur.\" Then would he have slain him for\ndread of his wrath, and lifted up his sword to slay him; and\ntherewith Merlin cast an enchantment on the knight, so that he\nfell to the earth in a great sleep. Then Merlin took up King\nArthur, and set him on his horse. \"Alas!\" said Arthur, \"what hast\nthou done, Merlin? hast thou slain this good knight by thy\ncrafts?\" \"Care ye not,\" said Merlin; \"he is wholer than ye be. He\nis only asleep, and will wake in three hours.\"\n\nThen the king and he departed, and went till they came to a\nhermit, that was a good man and a great leech. So the hermit\nsearched all his wounds, and applied good salves; and the king was\nthere three days, and then were his wounds well amended, that he\nmight ride and go. So they departed, and as they rode Arthur said,\n\"I have no sword.\" \"No matter,\" said Merlin; \"hereby is a sword\nthat shall be yours.\" So they rode till they came to a lake, which\nwas a fair water and broad. And in the midst of the lake Arthur\nwas aware of an arm clothed in white samite, [Footnote: Samite, a\nsort of silk stuff.] that held a fair sword in the hand. \"Lo!\"\nsaid Merlin, \"yonder is that sword that I spake of. It belongeth\nto the Lady of the Lake, and, if she will, thou mayest take it;\nbut if she will not, it will not be in thy power to take it.\"\n\nSo Sir Arthur and Merlin alighted from their horses, and went into\na boat. And when they came to the sword that the hand held Sir\nArthur took it by the handle and took it to him, and the arm and\nthe hand went under the water.\n\nThen they returned unto the land and rode forth. And Sir Arthur\nlooked on the sword and liked it right well.\n\nSo they rode unto Caerleon, whereof his knights were passing glad.\nAnd when they heard of his adventures they marvelled that he would\njeopard his person so alone. But all men of worship said it was a\nfine thing to be under such a chieftain as would put his person in\nadventure as other poor knights did.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nSIR GAWAIN\n\n\nSir Gawain was nephew to King Arthur, by his sister Morgana,\nmarried to Lot, king of Orkney, who was by Arthur made king of\nNorway. Sir Gawain was one of the most famous knights of the Round\nTable, and is characterized by the romancers as the SAGE and\nCOURTEOUS Gawain. To this Chaucer alludes in his \"Squiere's Tale,\"\nwhere the strange knight \"salueth\" all the court\n\n    \"With so high reverence and observance,\n    As well in speeche as in countenance,\n    That Gawain, with his olde curtesie,\n    Though he were come agen out of faerie,\n    Ne coude him not amenden with a word.\"\n\nGawain's brothers were Agrivain, Gahariet, and Gareth.\n\nSIR GAWAIN'S MARRIAGE\n\nOnce upon a time King Arthur held his court in merry Carlisle,\nwhen a damsel came before him and craved a boon. It was for\nvengeance upon a caitiff knight, who had made her lover captive\nand despoiled her of her lands. King Arthur commanded to bring him\nhis sword, Excalibar, and to saddle his steed, and rode forth\nwithout delay to right the lady's wrong. Ere long he reached the\ncastle of the grim baron, and challenged him to the conflict. But\nthe castle stood on magic ground, and the spell was such that no\nknight could tread thereon but straight his courage fell and his\nstrength decayed. King Arthur felt the charm, and before a blow\nwas struck, his sturdy limbs lost their strength, and his head\ngrew faint. He was fain to yield himself prisoner to the churlish\nknight, who refused to release him except upon condition that he\nshould return at the end of a year, and bring a true answer to the\nquestion, \"What thing is it which women most desire?\" or in\ndefault thereof surrender himself and his lands. King Arthur\naccepted the terms, and gave his oath to return at the time\nappointed. During the year the king rode east, and he rode west,\nand inquired of all whom he met what thing it is which all women\nmost desire. Some told him riches; some, pomp and state; some,\nmirth; some, flattery; and some, a gallant knight. But in the\ndiversity of answers he could find no sure dependence. The year\nwas well-nigh spent, when one day, as he rode thoughtfully through\na forest, he saw sitting beneath a tree a lady of such hideous\naspect that he turned away his eyes, and when she greeted him in\nseemly sort, made no answer. \"What wight art thou,\" the lady said,\n\"that will not speak to me? It may chance that I may resolve thy\ndoubts, though I be not fair of aspect.\" \"If thou wilt do so,\"\nsaid King Arthur, \"choose what reward thou wilt, thou grim lady,\nand it shall be given thee.\" \"Swear me this upon thy faith,\" she\nsaid, and Arthur swore it. Then the lady told him the secret, and\ndemanded her reward, which was that the king should find some fair\nand courtly knight to be her husband.\n\nKing Arthur hastened to the grim baron's castle and told him one\nby one all the answers which he had received from his various\nadvisers, except the last, and not one was admitted as the true\none. \"Now yield thee, Arthur,\" the giant said, \"for thou hast not\npaid thy ransom, and thou and thy lands are forfeited to me.\" Then\nKing Arthur said:\n\n    \"Yet hold thy hand, thou proud baron,\n      I pray thee hold thy hand,\n    And give me leave to speak once more,\n      In rescue of my land.\n    This morn as I came over a moor,\n      I saw a lady set,\n    Between an oak and a green holly,\n      All clad in red scarlett.\n    She says ALL WOMEN WOULD HAVE THEIR WILL,\n      This is their chief desire;\n    Now yield, as thou art a baron true,\n      That I have paid my hire.\"\n\n\"It was my sister that told thee this,\" the churlish baron\nexclaimed. \"Vengeance light on her! I will some time or other do\nher as ill a turn.\"\n\nKing Arthur rode homeward, but not light of heart, for he\nremembered the promise he was under to the loathly lady to--give\nher one of his young and gallant knights for a husband. He told\nhis grief to Sir Gawain, his nephew, and he replied, \"Be not sad,\nmy lord, for I will marry the loathly lady.\" King Arthur replied:\n\n    \"Now nay, now nay, good Sir Gawaine,\n      My sister's son ye be;\n    The loathly lady's all too grim,\n      And all too foule for thee.\"\n\nBut Gawain persisted, and the king at last, with sorrow of heart,\nconsented that Gawain should be his ransom. So one day the king\nand his knights rode to the forest, met the loathly lady, and\nbrought her to the court. Sir Gawain stood the scoffs and jeers of\nhis companions as he best might, and the marriage was solemnized,\nbut not with the usual festivities. Chaucer tells us:\n\n    \"... There was no joye ne feste at alle;\n    There n' as but hevinesse and mochel sorwe,\n    For prively he wed her on the morwe,\n    And all day after hid him as an owle,\n    So wo was him his wife loked so foule!\"\n\n[Footnote: N'AS is NOT WAS, contracted; in modern phrase, THERE\nWAS NOT. MOCHEL SORWE is much sorrow; MORWE is MORROW.]\n\nWhen night came, and they were alone together, Sir Gawain could\nnot conceal his aversion; and the lady asked him why he sighed so\nheavily, and turned away his face. He candidly confessed it was on\naccount of three things, her age, her ugliness, and her low\ndegree. The lady, not at all offended, replied with excellent\narguments to all his objections. She showed him that with age is\ndiscretion, with ugliness security from rivals, and that all true\ngentility depends, not upon the accident of birth, but upon the\ncharacter of the individual.\n\nSir Gawain made no reply; but, turning his eyes on his bride, what\nwas his amazement to perceive that she wore no longer the unseemly\naspect that had so distressed him. She then told him that the form\nshe had worn was not her true form, but a disguise imposed upon\nher by a wicked enchanter, and that she was condemned to wear it\nuntil two things should happen: one, that she should obtain some\nyoung and gallant knight to be her husband. This having been done,\none-half of the charm was removed. She was now at liberty to wear\nher true form for half the time, and she bade him choose whether\nhe would have her fair by day, and ugly by night, or the reverse.\nSir Gawain would fain have had her look her best by night, when he\nalone would see her, and show her repulsive visage, if at all, to\nothers. But she reminded him how much more pleasant it would be to\nher to wear her best looks in the throng of knights and ladies by\nday. Sir Gawain yielded, and gave up his will to hers. This alone\nwas wanting to dissolve the charm. The lovely lady now with joy\nassured him that she should change no more, but as she now was, so\nwould she remain by night as well as by day.\n\n    \"Sweet blushes stayned her rud-red cheek,\n      Her eyen were black as sloe,\n    The ripening cherrye swelled her lippe,\n      And all her neck was snow.\n    Sir Gawain kist that ladye faire\n      Lying upon the sheete,\n    And swore, as he was a true knight,\n      The spice was never so swete.\"\n\nThe dissolution of the charm which had held the lady also released\nher brother, the \"grim baron,\" for he too had been implicated in\nit. He ceased to be a churlish oppressor, and became a gallant and\ngenerous knight as any at Arthur's court.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nCARADOC BRIEFBRAS; OR, CARADOC WITH THE SHRUNKEN ARM\n\n\nCaradoc was the son of Ysenne, the beautiful niece of Arthur. He\nwas ignorant who his father was, till it was discovered in the\nfollowing manner: When the youth was of proper years to receive\nthe honors of knighthood, King Arthur held a grand court for the\npurpose of knighting him. On this occasion a strange knight\npresented himself, and challenged the knights of Arthur's court to\nexchange blow for blow with him. His proposal was this--to lay his\nneck on a block for any knight to strike, on condition that, if he\nsurvived the blow, the knight should submit in turn to the same\nexperiment. Sir Kay, who was usually ready to accept all\nchallenges, pronounced this wholly unreasonable, and declared that\nhe would not accept it for all the wealth in the world. And when\nthe knight offered his sword, with which the operation was to be\nperformed, no person ventured to accept it, till Caradoc, growing\nangry at the disgrace which was thus incurred by the Round Table,\nthrew aside his mantle and took it. \"Do you do this as one of the\nbest knights?\" said the stranger. \"No,\" he replied, \"but as one of\nthe most foolish.\" The stranger lays his head upon the block,\nreceives a blow which sends it rolling from his shoulders, walks\nafter it, picks it up, replaces it with great success, and says he\nwill return when the court shall be assembled next year, and claim\nhis turn. When the anniversary arrived, both parties were punctual\nto their engagement. Great entreaties were used by the king and\nqueen, and the whole court, in behalf of Caradoc, but the stranger\nwas inflexible. The young knight laid his head upon the block, and\nmore than once desired him to make an end of the business, and not\nkeep him longer in so disagreeable a state of expectation. At last\nthe stranger strikes him gently with the side of the sword, bids\nhim rise, and reveals to him the fact that he is his father, the\nenchanter Eliaures, and that he gladly owns him for a son, having\nproved his courage and fidelity to his word.\n\nBut the favor of enchanters is short-lived and uncertain. Eliaures\nfell under the influence of a wicked woman, who, to satisfy her\npique against Caradoc, persuaded the enchanter to fasten on his\narm a serpent, which remained there sucking at his flesh and\nblood, no human skill sufficing either to remove the reptile or\nalleviate the torments which Caradoc endured.\n\nCaradoc was betrothed to Guimier, sister to his bosom friend,\nCador, and daughter to the king of Cornwall. As soon as they were\ninformed of his deplorable condition, they set out for Nantes,\nwhere Caradoc's castle was, that Guimier might attend upon him.\nWhen Caradoc heard of their coming, his first emotion was that of\njoy and love. But soon he began to fear that the sight of his\nemaciated form, and of his sufferings, would disgust Guimier; and\nthis apprehension became so strong, that he departed secretly from\nNantes, and hid himself in a hermitage. He was sought far and near\nby the knights of Arthur's court, and Cador made a vow never to\ndesist from the quest till he should have found him. After long\nwandering, Cador discovered his friend in the hermitage, reduced\nalmost to a skeleton, and apparently near his death. All other\nmeans of relief having already been tried in vain, Cador at last\nprevailed on the enchanter Eliaures to disclose the only method\nwhich could avail for his rescue. A maiden must be found, his\nequal in birth and beauty, and loving him better than herself, so\nthat she would expose herself to the same torment to deliver him.\nTwo vessels were then to be provided, the one filled with sour\nwine, and the other with milk. Caradoc must enter the first, so\nthat the wine should reach his neck, and the maiden must get into\nthe other, and, exposing her bosom upon the edge of the vessel,\ninvite the serpent to forsake the withered flesh of his victim for\nthis fresh and inviting food. The vessels were to be placed three\nfeet apart, and as the serpent crossed from one to the other. a\nknight was to cut him in two. If he failed in his blow, Caradoc\nwould indeed be delivered, but it would be only to see his fair\nchampion suffering the same cruel and hopeless torment. The sequel\nmay be easily foreseen. Guimier willingly exposed herself to the\nperilous adventure, and Cador, with a lucky blow, killed the\nserpent. The arm in which Caradoc had suffered so long recovered\nits strength, but not its shape, in consequence of which he was\ncalled Caradoc Briefbras, Caradoc of the Shrunken Arm.\n\nCaradoc and Guimier are the hero and heroine of the ballad Of the\n\"Boy and the Mantle,\" which follows:\n\n    \"THE BOY AND THE MANTLE\n\n    \"In Carlisle dwelt King Arthur,\n      A prince of passing might,\n    And there maintained his Table Round,\n      Beset with many a knight.\n\n    \"And there he kept his Christmas,\n      With mirth and princely cheer,\n    When lo! a strange and cunning boy\n      Before him did appear.\n\n    \"A kirtle and a mantle\n      This boy had him upon,\n    With brooches, rings, and ouches,\n      Full daintily bedone.\n\n    \"He had a sash of silk\n      About his middle meet;\n    And thus with seemly curtesie\n      He did King Arthur greet:\n\n    \"'God speed thee, brave King Arthur.\n      Thus feasting in thy bower,\n    And Guenever, thy goodly queen,\n      That fair and peerless flower.\n\n    \"'Ye gallant lords and lordlings,\n      I wish you all take heed,\n    Lest what ye deem a blooming rose\n      Should prove a cankered weed.'\n\n    \"Then straightway from his bosom\n      A little wand he drew;\n    And with it eke a mantle,\n      Of wondrous shape and hue.\n\n    \"'Now have thou here, King Arthur,\n      Have this here of me,\n    And give unto thy comely queen,\n      All shapen as you see.\n\n    \"'No wife it shall become,\n      That once hath been to blame.'\n    Then every knight in Arthur's court\n      Sly glanced at his dame.\n\n    \"And first came Lady Guenever,\n      The mantle she must try.\n    This dame she was new-fangled, [1]\n      And of a roving eye.\n\n    \"When she had taken the mantle,\n      And all with it was clad,\n    From top to toe it shivered down,\n      As though with shears beshred.\n\n    \"One while it was too long,\n      Another while too short,\n    And wrinkled on her shoulders,\n      In most unseemly sort.\n\n    \"Now green, now red it seemed,\n      Then all of sable hue;\n    'Beshrew me,' quoth King Arthur,\n      'I think thou be'st not true!'\n\n    \"Down she threw the mantle,\n      No longer would she stay;\n    But, storming like a fury,\n      To her chamber flung away.\n\n    \"She cursed the rascal weaver,\n      That had the mantle wrought;\n    And doubly cursed the froward imp\n      Who thither had it brought.\n\n    I had rather live in deserts,\n      Beneath the greenwood tree,\n    Than here, base king, among thy grooms\n      The sport of them and thee.'\n\n    \"Sir Kay called forth his lady,\n      And bade her to come near:\n    'Yet dame, if thou be guilty,\n      I pray thee now forbear.'\n\n    \"This lady, pertly giggling,\n      With forward step came on,\n    And boldly to the little boy\n      With fearless face is gone.\n\n    \"When she had taken the mantle,\n      With purpose for to wear,\n    It shrunk up to her shoulder,\n      And left her back all bare.\n\n    \"Then every merry knight,\n      That was in Arthur's court,\n    Gibed and laughed and flouted,\n      To see that pleasant sport.\n\n    \"Down she threw the mantle,\n      No longer bold or gay,\n    But, with a face all pale and wan\n      To her chamber slunk away.\n\n    \"Then forth came an old knight\n      A pattering o'er his creed,\n    And proffered to the little boy\n       Five nobles to his meed:\n\n    \"'And all the time of Christmas\n      Plum-porridge shall be thine,\n    If thou wilt let my lady fair\n      Within the mantle shine.'\n\n    \"A saint his lady seemed,\n      With step demure and slow,\n    And gravely to the mantle\n      With mincing face doth go.\n\n    \"When she the same had taken\n      That was so fine and thin,\n    It shrivelled all about her,\n      And showed her dainty skin.\n\n    \"Ah! little did her mincing,\n      Or his long prayers bestead;\n     She had no more hung on her\n      Than a tassel and a thread.\n\n    \"Down she threw the mantle,\n      With terror and dismay,\n    And with a face of scarlet\n      To her chamber hied away.\n\n    \"Sir Cradock called his lady,\n      And bade her to come near:\n    'Come win this mantle, lady,\n       And do me credit here:\n\n    \"'Come win this mantle, lady,\n      For now it shall be thine,\n    If thou hast never done amiss,\n      Since first I made thee mine.'\n\n    \"The lady, gently blushing,\n      With modest grace came on;\n    And now to try the wondrous charm\n      Courageously is gone.\n\n    \"When she had ta'en the mantle,\n      And put it on her back,\n    About the hem it seemed\n      To wrinkle and to crack.\n\n    \"'Lie still,' she cried, 'O mantle!\n      And shame me not for naught;\n    I'll freely own whate'er amiss\n      Or blameful I have wrought.\n\n    \"'Once I kissed Sir Cradock\n      Beneath the greenwood tree;\n    Once I kissed Sir Cradock's mouth,\n      Before he married me.'\n\n    \"When she had thus her shriven,\n      And her worst fault had told,\n    The mantle soon became her,\n      Right comely as it should.\n\n    \"Most rich and fair of color,\n      Like gold it glittering shone,\n    And much the knights in Arthur's court\n      Admired her every one.\"\n\n[Footnote 1: New-fangled--fond of novelty.]\n\nThe ballad goes on to tell of two more trials of a similar kind,\nmade by means of a boar's head and a drinking horn, in both of\nwhich the result was equally favorable with the first to Sir\nCradock and his lady. It then concludes as follows:\n\n    \"Thus boar's head, horn, and mantle\n      Were this fair couple's meed;\n    And all such constant lovers,\n      God send them well to speed\"\n\n    --Percy's Reliques.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nLAUNCELOT OF THE LAKE\n\n\nKing Ban, of Brittany, the faithful ally of Arthur was attacked by\nhis enemy Claudas, and after a long war saw himself reduced to the\npossession of a single fortress, where he was besieged by his\nenemy. In this extremity he determined to solicit the assistance\nof Arthur, and escaped in a dark night, with his wife Helen and\nhis infant son Launcelot, leaving his castle in the hands of his\nseneschal, who immediately surrendered the place to Claudas. The\nflames of his burning citadel reached the eyes of the unfortunate\nmonarch during his flight and he expired with grief. The wretched\nHelen, leaving her child on the brink of a lake, flew to receive\nthe last sighs of her husband, and on returning perceived the\nlittle Launcelot in the arms of a nymph, who, on the approach of\nthe queen, threw herself into the lake with the child. This nymph\nwas Viviane, mistress of the enchanter Merlin, better known by the\nname of the Lady of the Lake. Launcelot received his appellation\nfrom having been educated at the court of this enchantress, whose\npalace was situated in the midst, not of a real, but, like the\nappearance which deceives the African traveller, of an imaginary\nlake, whose deluding resemblance served as a barrier to her\nresidence. Here she dwelt not alone, but in the midst of a\nnumerous retinue, and a splendid court of knights and damsels.\n\nThe queen, after her double loss, retired to a convent, where she\nwas joined by the widow of Bohort, for this good king had died of\ngrief on hearing of the death of his brother Ban. His two sons,\nLionel and Bohort, were rescued by a faithful knight, and arrived\nin the shape of greyhounds at the palace of the lake, where,\nhaving resumed their natural form, they were educated along with\ntheir cousin Launcelot.\n\nThe fairy, when her pupil had attained the age of eighteen,\nconveyed him to the court of Arthur for the purpose of demanding\nhis admission to the honor of knighthood; and at the first\nappearance of the youthful candidate the graces of his person,\nwhich were not inferior to his courage and skill in arms, made an\ninstantaneous and indelible impression on the heart of Guenever,\nwhile her charms inspired him with an equally ardent and constant\npassion. The mutual attachment of these lovers exerted, from that\ntime forth, an influence over the whole history of Arthur. For the\nsake of Guenever, Launcelot achieved the conquest of\nNorthumberland, defeated Gallehaut, King of the Marches, who\nafterwards became his most faithful friend and ally, exposed\nhimself in numberless encounters, and brought hosts of prisoners\nto the feet of his sovereign.\n\nSIR LAUNCELOT\n\nAfter King Arthur was come from Rome into England all the knights\nof the Table Round resorted unto him and made him many justs and\ntournaments. And in especial Sir Launcelot of the Lake in all\ntournaments and justs and deeds of arms, both for life and death,\npassed all other knights, and was never overcome, except it were\nby treason or enchantment; and he increased marvellously in\nworship, wherefore Queen Guenever had him in great favor, above\nall other knights. And for certain he loved the queen again above\nall other ladies; and for her he did many deeds of arms, and saved\nher from peril, through his noble chivalry. Thus Sir Launcelot\nrested him long with play and game, and then he thought to prove\nhimself in strange adventures; so he bade his nephew, Sir Lionel,\nto make him ready,-- \"for we two will seek adventures.\" So they\nmounted on their horses, armed at all sights, and rode into a\nforest, and so into a deep plain. And the weather was hot about\nnoon, and Sir Launcelot had great desire to sleep. Then Sir Lionel\nespied a great apple-tree that stood by a hedge, and he said:\n\"Brother, yonder is a fair shadow--there may we rest us and our\nhorses.\" \"It is well said,\" replied Sir Launcelot. So they there\nalighted, and Sir Launcelot laid him down, and his helm under his\nhead, and soon was asleep passing fast. And Sir Lionel waked while\nhe slept. And presently there came three knights riding as fast as\never they might ride, and there followed them but one knight. And\nSir Lionel thought he never saw so great a knight before. So\nwithin a while this great knight overtook one of those knights,\nand smote him so that he fell to the earth. Then he rode to the\nsecond knight and smote him, and so he did to the third knight.\nThen he alighted down and bound all the three knights fast with\ntheir own bridles. When Sir Lionel saw him do thus, he thought to\nassay him, and made him ready silently, not to awake Sir\nLauncelot, and rode after the strong knight, and bade him turn.\nAnd the other smote Sir Lionel so hard that horse and man fell to\nthe earth; and then he alighted down and bound Sir Lionel, and\nthrew him across his own horse; and so he served them all four,\nand rode with them away to his own castle. And when he came there\nhe put them in a deep prison, in which were many more knights in\ngreat distress.\n\nNow while Sir Launcelot lay under the apple-tree sleeping, there\ncame by him four queens of great estate. And that the heat should\nnot grieve them, there rode four knights about them, and bare a\ncloth of green silk on four spears, betwixt them and the sun. And\nthe queens rode on four white mules.\n\nThus as they rode they heard by them a great horse grimly neigh.\nThen they were aware of a sleeping knight, that lay all armed\nunder an apple-tree; and as the queens looked on his face, they\nknew it was Sir Launcelot. Then they began to strive for that\nknight, and each one said she would have him for her love. \"We\nwill not strive,\" said Morgane le Fay, that was King Arthur's\nsister, \"for I will put an enchantment upon him, that he shall not\nwake for six hours, and we will take him away to my castle; and\nthen when he is surely within my hold, I will take the enchantment\nfrom him, and then let him choose which of us he will have for his\nlove.\" So the enchantment was cast upon Sir Launcelot. And then\nthey laid him upon his shield, and bare him so on horseback\nbetween two knights, and brought him unto the castle and laid him\nin a chamber, and at night they sent him his supper. And on the\nmorning came early those four queens, richly dight, and bade him\ngood morning, and he them again. \"Sir knight,\" they said, \"thou\nmust understand thou art our prisoner; and we know thee well, that\nthou art Sir Launcelot of the Lake, King Ban's son, and that thou\nart the noblest knight living. And we know well that there can no\nlady have thy love but one, and that is Queen Guenever; and now\nthou shalt lose her for ever, and she thee; and therefore it\nbehooveth thee now to choose one of us. I am the Queen Morgane le\nFay, and here is the Queen of North Wales, and the Queen of\nEastland, and the Queen of the Isles. Now choose one of us which\nthou wilt have, for if thou choose not, in this prison thou shalt\ndie.\" \"This is a hard case,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"that either I\nmust die, or else choose one of you; yet had I liever to die in\nthis prison with worship, than to have one of you for my paramour,\nfor ye be false enchantresses.\" \"Well,\" said the queens, \"is this\nyour answer, that ye will refuse us.\" \"Yea, on my life it is,\"\nsaid Sir Launcelot. Then they departed, making great sorrow.\n\nThen at noon came a damsel unto him with his dinner, and asked\nhim, \"What cheer?\" \"Truly, fair damsel,\" said Sir Launcelot,\n\"never so ill.\" \"Sir,\" said she, \"if you will be ruled by me, I\nwill help you out of this distress. If ye will promise me to help\nmy father on Tuesday next, who hath made a tournament betwixt him\nand the king of North Wales; for last Tuesday my father lost the\nfield.\" \"Fair maiden,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"tell me what is your\nfather's name, and then will I give you an answer.\" \"Sir knight,\"\nshe said, \"my father is King Bagdemagus.\" \"I know him well,\" said\nSir Launcelot, \"for a noble king and a good knight; and, by the\nfaith of my body, I will be ready to do your father and you\nservice at that day.\"\n\nSo she departed, and came on the next morning early and found him\nready, and brought him out of twelve locks, and brought him to his\nown horse, and lightly he saddled him, and so rode forth.\n\nAnd on the Tuesday next he came to a little wood where the\ntournament should be. And there were scaffolds and holds, that\nlords and ladies might look on, and give the prize. Then came into\nthe field the king of North Wales, with eightscore helms, and King\nBadgemagus came with fourscore helms. And then they couched their\nspears, and came together with a great dash, and there were\noverthrown at the first encounter twelve of King Bagdemagus's\nparty and six of the king of North Wales's party, and King\nBagdemagus's party had the worse.\n\nWith that came Sir Launcelot of the Lake, and thrust in with his\nspear in the thickest of the press; and he smote down five knights\nere he held his hand; and he smote down the king of North Wales,\nand he brake his thigh in that fall. And then the knights of the\nking of North Wales would just no more; and so the gree was given\nto King Bagdemagus.\n\nAnd Sir Launcelot rode forth with King Bagdemagus unto his castle;\nand there he had passing good cheer, both with the king and with\nhis daughter. And on the morn he took his leave, and told the king\nhe would go and seek his brother, Sir Lionel, that went from him\nwhen he slept. So he departed, and by adventure he came to the\nsame forest where he was taken sleeping. And in the highway he met\na damsel riding on a white palfrey, and they saluted each other.\n\"Fair damsel,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"know ye in this country any\nadventures?\" \"Sir knight,\" said the damsel, \"here are adventures\nnear at hand, if thou durst pursue them.\" \"Why should I not prove\nadventures?\" said Sir Launcelot, \"since for that cause came I\nhither.\" \"Sir,\" said she, \"hereby dwelleth a knight that will not\nbe overmatched for any man I know, except thou overmatch him. His\nname is Sir Turquine, and, as I understand, he is a deadly enemy\nof King Arthur, and he has in his prison good knights of Arthur's\ncourt, threescore and more, that he hath won with his own hands.\"\n\"Damsel,\" said Launcelot, \"I pray you bring me unto this knight.\"\nSo she told him, \"Hereby, within this mile, is his castle, and by\nit on the left hand is a ford for horses to drink of, and over\nthat ford there groweth a fair tree, and on that tree hang many\nshields that good knights wielded aforetime, that are now\nprisoners; and on the tree hangeth a basin of copper and latten,\nand if thou strike upon that basin thou shalt hear tidings.\" And\nSir Launcelot departed, and rode as the damsel had shown him, and\nshortly he came to the ford, and the tree where hung the shields\nand the basin. And among the shields he saw Sir Lionel's and Sir\nHector's shields, besides many others of knights that he knew.\n\nThen Sir Launcelot struck on the basin with the butt of his spear;\nand long he did so, but he saw no man. And at length he was ware\nof a great knight that drove a horse before him, and across the\nhorse there lay an armed knight bounden. And as they came near,\nSir Launcelot thought he should know the captive knight. Then Sir\nLauncelot saw that it was Sir Gaheris, Sir Gawain's brother, a\nknight of the Table Round. \"Now, fair knight,\" said Sir Launcelot,\n\"put that wounded knight off the horse, and let him rest awhile,\nand let us two prove our strength. For, as it is told me, thou\nhast done great despite and shame unto knights of the Round Table,\ntherefore now defend thee.\" \"If thou be of the Table Round,\" said\nSir Turquine, \"I defy thee and all thy fellowship.\" \"That is\novermuch said,\" said Sir Launcelot.\n\nThen they put their spears in the rests, and came together with\ntheir horses as fast as they might run. And each smote the other\nin the middle of their shields, so that their horses fell under\nthem, and the knights were both staggered; and as soon as they\ncould clear their horses they drew out their swords and came\ntogether eagerly, and each gave the other many strong strokes, for\nneither shield nor harness might withstand their strokes. So\nwithin a while both had grimly wounds, and bled grievously. Then\nat the last they were breathless both, and stood leaning upon\ntheir swords. \"Now, fellow,\" said Sir Turquine, \"thou art the\nstoutest man that ever I met with, and best breathed; and so be it\nthou be not the knight that I hate above all other knights, the\nknight that slew my brother, Sir Carados, I will gladly accord\nwith thee; and for thy love I will deliver all the prisoners that\nI have.\"\n\n\"What knight is he that thou hatest so above others?\" \"Truly,\"\nsaid Sir Turquine, \"his name is Sir Launcelot of the Lake.\" \"I am\nSir Launcelot of the Lake, King Ban's son of Benwick, and very\nknight of the Table Round; and now I defy thee do thy best.\" \"Ah!\"\nsaid Sir Turquine, \"Launcelot, thou art to me the most welcome\nthat ever was knight; for we shall never part till the one of us\nbe dead.\" And then they hurtled together like two wild bulls,\nrashing and lashing with their swords and shields, so that\nsometimes they fell, as it were, headlong. Thus they fought two\nhours and more, till the ground where they fought was all\nbepurpled with blood.\n\nThen at the last Sir Turquine waxed sore faint, and gave somewhat\naback, and bare his shield full low for weariness. That spied Sir\nLauncelot, and leapt then upon him fiercely as a lion, and took\nhim by the beaver of his helmet, and drew him down on his knees.\nAnd he raised off his helm, and smote his neck in sunder.\n\nAnd Sir Gaheris, when he saw Sir Turquine slain, said, \"Fair lord,\nI pray you tell me your name, for this day I say ye are the best\nknight in the world, for ye have slain this day in my sight the\nmightiest man and the best knight except you that ever I saw.\"\n\"Sir, my name is Sir Launcelot du Lac, that ought to help you of\nright for King Arthur's sake, and in especial for Sir Gawain's\nsake, your own dear brother. Now I pray you, that ye go into\nyonder castle, and set free all the prisoners ye find there, for I\nam sure ye shall find there many knights of the Table Round, and\nespecially my brother Sir Lionel. I pray you greet them all from\nme, and tell them I bid them take there such stuff as they find;\nand tell my brother to go unto the court and abide me there, for\nby the feast of Pentecost I think to be there; but at this time I\nmay not stop, for I have adventures on hand.\" So he departed, and\nSir Gaheris rode into the castle, and took the keys from the\nporter, and hastily opened the prison door and let out all the\nprisoners. There was Sir Kay, Sir Brandeles, and Sir Galynde, Sir\nBryan, and Sir Alyduke, Sir Hector de Marys, and Sir Lionel, and\nmany more. And when they saw Sir Gaheris they all thanked him, for\nthey thought, because he was wounded, that he had slain Sir\nTurquine. \"Not so,\" said Sir Gaheris; \"it was Sir Launcelot that\nslew him, right worshipfully; I saw it with mine eyes.\"\n\nSir Launcelot rode till at nightfall he came to a fair castle, and\ntherein he found an old gentlewoman, who lodged him with good-\nwill, and there he had good cheer for him and his horse. And when\ntime was, his host brought him to a fair chamber over the gate to\nhis bed. Then Sir Launcelot unarmed him, and set his harness by\nhim, and went to bed, and anon he fell asleep. And soon after,\nthere came one on horseback and knocked at the gate in great\nhaste; and when Sir Launcelot heard this, he arose and looked out\nof the window, and saw by the moonlight three knights riding after\nthat one man, and all three lashed on him with their swords, and\nthat one knight turned on them knightly again and defended\nhimself. \"Truly,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"yonder one knight will I\nhelp, for it is shame to see three knights on one.\" Then he took\nhis harness and went out at the window by a sheet down to the four\nknights; and he said aloud, \"Turn you knights unto me, and leave\nyour fighting with that knight.\" Then the knights left Sir Kay,\nfor it was he they were upon, and turned unto Sir Launcelot, and\nstruck many great strokes at Sir Launcelot, and assailed him on\nevery side. Then Sir Kay addressed him to help Sir Launcelot, but\nhe said, \"Nay, sir, I will none of your help; let me alone with\nthem.\" So Sir Kay suffered him to do his will, and stood one side.\nAnd within six strokes Sir Launcelot had stricken them down.\n\nThen they all cried, \"Sir knight, we yield us unto you.\" \"As to\nthat,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"I will not take your yielding unto me.\nIf so be ye will yield you unto Sir Kay the Seneschal, I will save\nyour lives, but else not.\" \"Fair knight,\" then they said, \"we will\ndo as thou commandest us.\" \"Then shall ye,\" said Sir Launcelot,\n\"on Whitsunday next, go unto the court of King Arthur, and there\nshall ye yield you unto Queen Guenever, and say that Sir Kay sent\nyou thither to be her prisoners.\" \"Sir,\" they said, \"it shall be\ndone, by the faith of our bodies;\" and then they swore, every\nknight upon his sword. And so Sir Launcelot suffered them to\ndepart.\n\nOn the morn Sir Launcelot rose early and left Sir Kay sleeping;\nand Sir Launcelot took Sir Kay's armor, and his shield, and armed\nhim, and went to the stable and took his horse, and so he\ndeparted. Then soon after arose Sir Kay, and missed Sir Launcelot.\nAnd then he espied that he had taken his armor and his horse.\n\"Now, by my faith, I know well,\" said Sir Kay, \"that he will\ngrieve some of King Arthur's knights, for they will deem that it\nis I, and will be bold to meet him. But by cause of his armor I am\nsure I shall ride in peace.\" Then Sir Kay thanked his host and\ndeparted.\n\nSir Launcelot rode in a deep forest, and there he saw four\nknights, under an oak, and they were of Arthur's court. There was\nSir Sagramour le Desirus, and Hector de Marys, and Sir Gawain, and\nSir Uwaine. As they spied Sir Launcelot they judged by his arms it\nhad been Sir Kay. \"Now, by my faith,\" said Sir Sagramour, \"I will\nprove Sir Kay's might;\" and got his spear in his hand, and came\ntowards Sir Launcelot. Therewith Sir Launcelot couched his spear\nagainst him, and smote Sir Sagramour so sore that horse and man\nfell both to the earth. Then said Sir Hector, \"Now shall ye see\nwhat I may do with him.\" But he fared worse than Sir Sagramour,\nfor Sir Launcelot's spear went through his shoulder and bare him\nfrom his horse to the ground. \"By my faith,\" said Sir Uwaine,\n\"yonder is a strong knight, and I fear he hath slain Sir Kay, and\ntaken his armor.\" And therewith Sir Uwaine took his spear in hand,\nand rode toward Sir Launcelot; and Sir Launcelot met him on the\nplain and gave him such a buffet that he was staggered, and wist\nnot where he was. \"Now see I well,\" said Sir Gawain, \"that I must\nencounter with that knight.\" Then he adjusted his shield, and took\na good spear in his hand, and Sir Launcelot knew him well. Then\nthey let run their horses with all their mights, and each knight\nsmote the other in the middle of his shield. But Sir Gawain's\nspear broke, and Sir Launcelot charged so sore upon him that his\nhorse fell over backward. Then Sir Launcelot passed by smiling\nwith himself, and he said, \"Good luck be with him that made this\nspear, for never came a better into my hand.\" Then the four\nknights went each to the other and comforted one another. \"What\nsay ye to this adventure,\" said Sir Gawain, \"that one spear hath\nfelled us all four?\" \"I dare lay my head it is Sir Launcelot,\"\nsaid Sir Hector; \"I know it by his riding.\"\n\nAnd Sir Launcelot rode through many strange countries, till by\nfortune he came to a fair castle; and as he passed beyond the\ncastle he thought he heard two bells ring. And then he perceived\nhow a falcon came flying over his head, toward a high elm; and she\nhad long lunys [Footnote: LUNYS, the string with which the falcon\nis held.] about her feet, and she flew unto the elm to take her\nperch, and the lunys got entangled in the bough; and when she\nwould have taken her flight, she hung by the legs fast, and Sir\nLauncelot saw how she hung, and beheld the fair falcon entangled,\nand he was sorry for her. Then came a lady out of the castle and\ncried aloud, \"O Launcelot, Launcelot, as thou art the flower of\nall knights, help me to get my hawk; for if my hawk be lost, my\nlord will slay me, he is so hasty.\" \"What is your lord's name?\"\nsaid Sir Launcelot. \"His name is Sir Phelot, a knight that\nbelongeth to the king of North Wales.\" \"Well, fair lady, since ye\nknow my name, and require me of knighthood to help you, I will do\nwhat I may to get your hawk; and yet in truth I am an ill climber,\nand the tree is passing high, and few boughs to help me.\" And\ntherewith Sir Launcelot alighted and tied his horse to the tree,\nand prayed the lady to unarm him. And when he was unarmed, he put\noff his jerkin, and with might and force he clomb up to the\nfalcon, and tied the lunys to a rotten bough, and threw the hawk\ndown with it; and the lady got the hawk in her hand. Then suddenly\nthere came out of the castle her husband, all armed, and with his\nnaked sword in his hand, and said, \"O Knight Launcelot, now have I\ngot thee as I would,\" and stood at the boll of the tree to slay\nhim. \"Ah, lady!\" said Sir Launcelot, \"why have ye betrayed me?\"\n\"She hath done,\" said Sir Phelot, \"but as I commanded her; and\ntherefore there is none other way but thine hour is come, and thou\nmust die.\" \"That were shame unto thee,\" said Sir Launcelot; \"thou\nan armed knight to slay a naked man by treason.\" \"Thou gettest\nnone other grace,\" said Sir Phelot, \"and therefore help thyself if\nthou canst.\" \"Alas!\" said Sir Launcelot, \"that ever a knight\nshould die weaponless!\" And therewith he turned his eyes upward\nand downward; and over his head he saw a big bough leafless, and\nhe brake it off from the trunk. And then he came lower, and\nwatched how his own horse stood; and suddenly he leapt on the\nfurther side of his horse from the knight. Then Sir Phelot lashed\nat him eagerly, meaning to have slain him. But Sir Launcelot put\naway the stroke, with the big bough, and smote Sir Phelot\ntherewith on the side of the head, so that he fell down in a swoon\nto the ground. Then Sir Launcelot took his sword out of his hand\nand struck his head from the body. Then said the lady, \"Alas! why\nhast thou slain my husband?\" \"I am not the cause,\" said Sir\nLauncelot, \"for with falsehood ye would have slain me, and now it\nis fallen on yourselves.\" Thereupon Sir Launcelot got all his\narmor, and put it upon him hastily, for fear of more resort, for\nthe knight's castle was so nigh. And as soon as he might, he took\nhis horse and departed, and thanked God he had escaped that\nadventure.\n\nAnd two days before the feast of Pentecost, Sir Launcelot came\nhome; and the king and all the court were passing glad of his\ncoming. And when Sir Gawain, Sir Uwaine, Sir Sagramour, and Sir\nHector de Marys saw Sir Launcelot in Sir Kay's armor then they\nwist well it was he that smote them down, all with one spear. Then\nthere was laughing and merriment among them; and from time to time\ncame all the knights that Sir Turquine had prisoners, and they all\nhonored and worshipped Sir Launcelot. Then Sir Gaheris said, \"I\nsaw all the battle from the beginning to the end,\" and he told\nKing Arthur all how it was. Then Sir Kay told the king how Sir\nLauncelot had rescued him, and how he \"made the knights yield to\nme, and not to him.\" And there they were, all three, and confirmed\nit all \"And, by my faith,\" said Sir Kay, \"because Sir Launcelot\ntook my harness and left me his, I rode in peace, and no man would\nhave to do with me.\"\n\nAnd so at that time Sir Launcelot had the greatest name of any\nknight of the world, and most was he honored of high and low.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nTHE ADVENTURE OF THE CART\n\n\nIt befell in the month of May, Queen Guenever called to her\nknights of the Table Round, and gave them warning that early upon\nthe morrow she would ride a-maying into the woods and fields\nbeside Westminster; \"and I warn you that there be none of you but\nhe be well horsed, and that ye all be clothed in green, either\nsilk or cloth; and I shall bring with me ten ladies, and every\nknight shall have a lady behind him, and every knight shall have a\nsquire and two yeoman, and all well horsed.\"\n\n    \"For thus it chanced one morn when all the court,\n     Green-suited, but with plumes that mock'd the May,\n     Had been, their wont, a-maying\"\n\n    --Guinevere.\n\nSo they made them ready; and these were the names of the knights:\nSir Kay the Seneschal, Sir Agrivaine, Sir Brandiles, Sir Sagramour\nle Desirus, Sir Dodynas le Sauvage, Sir Ozanna, Sir Ladynas, Sir\nPersant of Inde, Sir Ironside, and Sir Pelleas; and these ten\nknights made them ready, in the freshest manner, to ride with the\nqueen. So upon the morn they took their horses with the queen, and\nrode a-maying in woods and meadows, as it pleased them, in great\njoy and delight. Now there was a knight named Maleagans, son to\nKing Brademagus, who loved Queen Guenever passing well, and so had\nhe done long and many years. Now this knight, Sir Maleagans,\nlearned the queen's purpose, and that she had no men of arms with\nher but the ten noble knights all arrayed in green for maying; so\nhe prepared him twenty men of arms, and a hundred archers, to take\ncaptive the queen and her knights.\n\n    \"In the merry month of May,\n     In a morn at break of day,\n     With a troop of damsels playing,\n     The Queen, forsooth, went forth a-maying.\"\n\n    --Old Song.\n\nSo when the queen had mayed, and all were bedecked with herbs,\nmosses, and flowers in the best manner and freshest, right then\ncame out of a wood Sir Maleagans with eightscore men well\nharnessed, and bade the queen and her knights yield them\nprisoners. \"Traitor knight,\" said Queen Guenever, \"what wilt thou\ndo? Wilt thou shame thyself? Bethink thee how thou art a king's\nson, and a knight of the Table Round, and how thou art about to\ndishonor all knighthood and thyself?\" \"Be it as it may,\" said Sir\nMaleagans, \"know you well, madam, I have loved you many a year and\nnever till now could I get you to such advantage as I do now; and\ntherefore I will take you as I find you.\" Then the ten knights of\nthe Round Table drew their swords, and the other party run at them\nwith their spears, and the ten knights manfully abode them, and\nsmote away their spears. Then they lashed together with swords\ntill several were smitten to the earth. So when the queen saw her\nknights thus dolefully oppressed, and needs must be slain at the\nlast, then for pity and sorrow she cried, \"Sir Maleagans, slay not\nmy noble knights and I will go with you, upon this covenant, that\nthey be led with me wheresoever thou leadest me.\" \"Madame,\" said\nMaleagans, \"for your sake they shall be led with you into my own\ncastle, if that ye will be ruled, and ride with me.\" Then Sir\nMaleagans charged them all that none should depart from the queen,\nfor he dreaded lest Sir Launcelot should have knowledge of what\nhad been done.\n\nThen the queen privily called unto her a page of her chamber that\nwas swiftly horsed, to whom she said, \"Go thou when thou seest thy\ntime, and bear this ring unto Sir Launcelot, and pray him as he\nloveth me, that he will see me and rescue me. And spare not thy\nhorse,\" said the queen, \"neither for water nor for land.\" So the\nchild espied his time, and lightly he took his horse with the\nspurs and departed as fast as he might. And when Sir Maleagans saw\nhim so flee, he understood that it was by the queen's commandment\nfor to warn Sir Launcelot. Then they that were best horsed chased\nhim, and shot at him, but the child went from them all. Then Sir\nMaleagans said to the queen, \"Madam, ye are about to betray me,\nbut I shall arrange for Sir Launcelot that he shall not come\nlightly at you.\" Then he rode with her and them all to his castle,\nin all the haste that they might. And by the way Sir Maleagans\nlaid in ambush the best archers that he had to wait for Sir\nLauncelot. And the child came to Westminster and found Sir\nLauncelot and told his message and delivered him the queen's ring.\n\"Alas!\" said Sir Launcelot, \"now am I shamed for ever, unless I\nmay rescue that noble lady.\" Then eagerly he asked his armor and\nput it on him, and mounted his horse and rode as fast as he might;\nand men say he took the water at Westminster Bridge, and made his\nhorse swim over Thames unto Lambeth. Then within a while he came\nto a wood where was a narrow way; and there the archers were laid\nin ambush. And they shot at him and smote his horse so that he\nfell. Then Sir Launcelot left his horse and went on foot, but\nthere lay so many ditches and hedges betwixt the archers and him\nthat he might not meddle with them. \"Alas! for shame,\" said Sir\nLauncelot, \"that ever one knight should betray another! but it is\nan old saw, a good man is never in danger, but when he is in\ndanger of a coward.\" Then Sir Launcelot went awhile and he was\nexceedingly cumbered by his armor, his shield, and his spear, and\nall that belonged to him. Then by chance there came by him a cart\nthat came thither to fetch wood.\n\nNow at this time carts were little used except for carrying offal\nand for conveying criminals to execution. But Sir Launcelot took\nno thought of anything but the necessity of haste for the purpose\nof rescuing the queen; so he demanded of the carter that he should\ntake him in and convey him as speedily as possible for a liberal\nreward. The carter consented, and Sir Launcelot placed himself in\nthe cart and only lamented that with much jolting he made but\nlittle progress. Then it happened Sir Gawain passed by and seeing\nan armed knight travelling in that unusual way he drew near to see\nwho it might be. Then Sir Launcelot told him how the queen had\nbeen carried off, and how, in hastening to her rescue, his horse\nhad been disabled and he had been compelled to avail himself of\nthe cart rather than give up his enterprise. Then Sir Gawain said,\n\"Surely it is unworthy of a knight to travel in such sort;\" but\nSir Launcelot heeded him not.\n\nAt nightfall they arrived at a castle and the lady thereof came\nout at the head of her damsels to welcome Sir Gawain. But to admit\nhis companion, whom she supposed to be a criminal, or at least a\nprisoner, it pleased her not; however, to oblige Sir Gawain, she\nconsented. At supper Sir Launcelot came near being consigned to\nthe kitchen and was only admitted to the lady's table at the\nearnest solicitation of Sir Gawain. Neither would the damsels\nprepare a bed for him. He seized the first he found unoccupied and\nwas left undisturbed.\n\nNext morning he saw from the turrets of the castle a train\naccompanying a lady, whom he imagined to be the queen. Sir Gawain\nthought it might be so, and became equally eager to depart. The\nlady of the castle supplied Sir Launcelot with a horse and they\ntraversed the plain at full speed. They learned from some\ntravellers whom they met, that there were two roads which led to\nthe castle of Sir Maleagans. Here therefore the friends separated.\nSir Launcelot found his way beset with obstacles, which he\nencountered successfully, but not without much loss of time. As\nevening approached he was met by a young and sportive damsel, who\ngayly proposed to him a supper at her castle. The knight, who was\nhungry and weary, accepted the offer, though with no very good\ngrace. He followed the lady to her castle and ate voraciously of\nher supper, but was quite impenetrable to all her amorous\nadvances. Suddenly the scene changed and he was assailed by six\nfurious ruffians, whom he dealt with so vigorously that most of\nthem were speedily disabled, when again there was a change and he\nfound himself alone with his fair hostess, who informed him that\nshe was none other than his guardian fairy, who had but subjected\nhim to tests of his courage and fidelity. The next day the fairy\nbrought him on his road, and before parting gave him a ring, which\nshe told him would by its changes of color disclose to him all\nenchantments, and enable him to subdue them.\n\nSir Launcelot pursued his journey, without being much incommoded\nexcept by the taunts of travellers, who all seemed to have\nlearned, by some means, his disgraceful drive in the cart. One,\nmore insolent than the rest, had the audacity to interrupt him\nduring dinner, and even to risk a battle in support of his\npleasantry. Launcelot, after an easy victory, only doomed him to\nbe carted in his turn.\n\nAt night he was received at another castle, with great apparent\nhospitality, but found himself in the morning in a dungeon, and\nloaded with chains. Consulting his ring, and finding that this was\nan enchantment, he burst his chains, seized his armor in spite of\nthe visionary monsters who attempted to defend it, broke open the\ngates of the tower, and continued his journey. At length his\nprogress was checked by a wide and rapid torrent, which could only\nbe passed on a narrow bridge, on which a false step would prove\nhis destruction. Launcelot, leading his horse by the bridle, and\nmaking him swim by his side, passed over the bridge, and was\nattacked as soon as he reached the bank by a lion and a leopard,\nboth of which he slew, and then, exhausted and bleeding, seated\nhimself on the grass, and endeavored to bind up his wounds, when\nhe was accosted by Brademagus, the father of Maleagans, whose\ncastle was then in sight, and at no great distance. This king, no\nless courteous than his son was haughty and insolent, after\ncomplimenting Sir Launcelot on the valor and skill he had\ndisplayed in the perils of the bridge and the wild beasts, offered\nhim his assistance, and informed him that the queen was safe in\nhis castle, but could only be rescued by encountering Maleagans.\nLauncelot demanded the battle for the next day, and accordingly it\ntook place, at the foot of the tower, and under the eyes of the\nfair captive. Launcelot was enfeebled by his wounds, and fought\nnot with his usual spirit, and the contest for a time was\ndoubtful; till Guenever exclaimed, \"Ah, Launcelot! my knight,\ntruly have I been told that thou art no longer worthy of me!\"\nThese words instantly revived the drooping knight; he resumed at\nonce his usual superiority, and soon laid at his feet his haughty\nadversary.\n\nHe was on the point of sacrificing him to his resentment, when\nGuenever, moved by the entreaties of Brademagus, ordered him to\nwithhold the blow, and he obeyed. The castle and its prisoners\nwere now at his disposal. Launcelot hastened to the apartment of\nthe queen, threw himself at her feet, and was about to kiss her\nhand, when she exclaimed, \"Ah, Launcelot! why do I see thee again,\nyet feel thee to be no longer worthy of me, after having been\ndisgracefully drawn about the country in a--\" She had not time to\nfinish the phrase, for her lover suddenly started from her, and,\nbitterly lamenting that he had incurred the displeasure of his\nsovereign lady, rushed out of the castle, threw his sword and his\nshield to the right and left, ran furiously into the woods, and\ndisappeared.\n\nIt seems that the story of the abominable cart, which haunted\nLauncelot at every step, had reached the ears of Sir Kay, who had\ntold it to the queen, as a proof that her knight must have been\ndishonored. But Guenever had full leisure to repent the haste with\nwhich she had given credit to the tale. Three days elapsed, during\nwhich Launcelot wandered without knowing where he went, till at\nlast he began to reflect that his mistress had doubtless been\ndeceived by misrepresentation, and that it was his duty to set her\nright. He therefore returned, compelled Maleagans to release his\nprisoners, and, taking the road by which they expected the arrival\nof Sir Gawain, had the satisfaction of meeting him the next day;\nafter which the whole company proceeded gayly towards Camelot.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nTHE LADY OF SHALOTT\n\n\nKing Arthur proclaimed a solemn tournament to be held at\nWinchester. The king, not less impatient than his knights for this\nfestival, set off some days before to superintend the\npreparations, leaving the queen with her court at Camelot. Sir\nLauncelot, under pretence of indisposition, remained behind also.\nHis intention was to attend the tournament--in disguise; and\nhaving communicated his project to Guenever, he mounted his horse,\nset off without any attendant, and, counterfeiting the feebleness\nof age, took the most unfrequented road to Winchester, and passed\nunnoticed as an old knight who was going to be a spectator of the\nsports. Even Arthur and Gawain, who happened to behold him from\nthe windows of a castle under which he passed, were the dupes of\nhis disguise. But an accident betrayed him. His horse happened to\nstumble, and the hero, forgetting for a moment his assumed\ncharacter, recovered the animal with a strength and agility so\npeculiar to himself, that they instantly recognized the inimitable\nLauncelot. They suffered him, however, to proceed on his journey\nwithout interruption, convinced that his extraordinary feats of\narms must discover him at the approaching festival.\n\nIn the evening Launcelot was magnificently entertained as a\nstranger knight at the neighboring castle of Shalott. The lord of\nthis castle had a daughter of exquisite beauty, and two sons\nlately received into the order of knighthood, one of whom was at\nthat time ill in bed, and thereby prevented from attending the\ntournament, for which both brothers had long made preparation.\nLauncelot offered to attend the other, if he were permitted to\nborrow the armor of the invalid, and the lord of Shalott, without\nknowing the name of his guest, being satisfied from his appearance\nthat his son could not have a better assistant in arms, most\nthankfully accepted the offer. In the meantime the young lady, who\nhad been much struck by the first appearance of the stranger\nknight, continued to survey him with increased attention, and,\nbefore the conclusion of supper, became so deeply enamoured of\nhim, that after frequent changes of color, and other symptoms\nwhich Sir Launcelot could not possibly mistake, she was obliged to\nretire to her chamber, and seek relief in tears. Sir Launcelot\nhastened to convey to her, by means of her brother, the\ninformation that his heart was already disposed of, but that it\nwould be his pride and pleasure to act as her knight at the\napproaching tournament. The lady, obliged to be satisfied with\nthat courtesy, presented him her scarf to be worn at the\ntournament.\n\nLauncelot set off in the morning with the young knight, who, on\ntheir approaching Winchester, carried him to the castle of a lady,\nsister to the lord of Shalott, by whom they were hospitably\nentertained. The next day they put on their armor, which was\nperfectly plain and without any device, as was usual to youths\nduring the first year of knighthood, their shields being only\npainted red, as some color was necessary to enable them to be\nrecognized by their attendants. Launcelot wore on his crest the\nscarf of the maid of Shalott, and, thus equipped, proceeded to the\ntournament, where the knights were divided into two companies, the\none commanded by Sir Galehaut, the other by King Arthur. Having\nsurveyed the combat for a short time from without the lists, and\nobserved that Sir Galehaut's party began to give way, they joined\nthe press and attacked the royal knights, the young man choosing\nsuch adversaries as were suited to his strength, while his\ncompanion selected the principal champions of the Round Table, and\nsuccessively overthrew Gawain, Bohort, and Lionel. The\nastonishment of the spectators was extreme, for it was thought\nthat no one but Launcelot could possess such invincible force; yet\nthe favor on his crest seemed to preclude the possibility of his\nbeing thus disguised, for Launcelot had never been known to wear\nthe badge of any but his sovereign lady. At length Sir Hector,\nLauncelot's brother, engaged him, and, after a dreadful combat,\nwounded him dangerously in the head, but was himself completely\nstunned by a blow on the helmet, and felled to the ground; after\nwhich the conqueror rode off at full speed, attended by his\ncompanion.\n\nThey returned to the castle of Shalott, where Launcelot was\nattended with the greatest care by the good earl, by his two sons,\nand, above all, by his fair daughter, whose medical skill probably\nmuch hastened the period of his recovery. His health was almost\ncompletely restored, when Sir Hector, Sir Bohort, and Sir Lionel,\nwho, after the return of the court to Camelot, had undertaken the\nquest of their relation, discovered him walking on the walls of\nthe castle. Their meeting was very joyful; they passed three days\nin the castle amidst constant festivities, and bantered each other\non the events of the tournament. Launcelot, though he began by\nvowing vengeance against the author of his wound, yet ended by\ndeclaring that he felt rewarded for the pain by the pride he took\nin witnessing his brother's extraordinary prowess. He then\ndismissed them with a message to the queen, promising to follow\nimmediately, it being necessary that he should first take a formal\nleave of his kind hosts, as well as of the fair maid of Shalott.\n\nThe young lady, after vainly attempting to detain him by her tears\nand solicitations, saw him depart without leaving her any ground\nfor hope.\n\nIt was early summer when the tournament took place; but some\nmonths had passed since Launcelot's departure, and winter was now\nnear at hand. The health and strength of the Lady of Shalott had\ngradually sunk, and she felt that she could not live apart from\nthe object of her affections. She left the castle, and descending\nto the river's brink placed herself in a boat, which she loosed\nfrom its moorings, and suffered to bear her down the current\ntoward Camelot.\n\nOne morning, as Arthur and Sir Lionel looked from the window of\nthe tower, the walls of which were washed by a river, they\ndescried a boat richly ornamented, and covered with an awning of\ncloth of gold, which appeared to be floating down the stream\nwithout any human guidance. It struck the shore while they watched\nit, and they hastened down to examine it. Beneath the awning they\ndiscovered the dead body of a beautiful woman, in whose features\nSir Lionel easily recognized the lovely maid of Shalott. Pursuing\ntheir search, they discovered a purse richly embroidered with gold\nand jewels, and within the purse a letter, which Arthur opened,\nand found addressed to himself and all the knights of the Round\nTable, stating that Launcelot of the Lake, the most accomplished\nof knights and most beautiful of men, but at the same time the\nmost cruel and inflexible, had by his rigor produced the death of\nthe wretched maiden, whose love was no less invincible than his\ncruelty. The king immediately gave orders for the interment of the\nlady with all the honors suited to her rank, at the same time\nexplaining to the knights the history of her affection for\nLauncelot, which moved the compassion and regret of all.\n\nTennyson has chosen the story of the \"Lady of Shalott\" for the\nsubject of a poem. The catastrophe is told thus:\n\n      \"Under tower and balcony,\n      By garden-wall and gallery,\n      A gleaming shape she floated by,\n      A corse between the houses high,\n          Silent into Camelot.\n      Out upon the wharfs they came,\n      Knight and burgher, lord and dame,\n      And round the prow they read her name,\n          'The Lady of Shalott'\n\n      \"Who is this? and what is here?\n      And in the lighted palace near\n      Died the sound of royal cheer;\n      And they crossed themselves for fear,\n\n      All the knights at Camelot.\n      But Launcelot mused a little space;\n      He said, 'She has a lovely face;\n      God in his mercy lend her grace,\n          The Lady of Shalott.'\"\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nQUEEN GUENEVER'S PERIL\n\n\nIt happened at this time that Queen Guenever was thrown into great\nperil of her life. A certain squire who was in her immediate\nservice, having some cause of animosity to Sir Gawain, determined\nto destroy him by poison, at a public entertainment. For this\npurpose he concealed the poison in an apple of fine appearance,\nwhich he placed on the top of several others, and put the dish\nbefore the queen, hoping that, as Sir Gawain was the knight of\ngreatest dignity, she would present the apple to him. But it\nhappened that a Scottish knight of high distinction, who arrived\non that day, was seated next to the queen, and to him as a\nstranger she presented the apple, which he had no sooner eaten\nthan he was seized with dreadful pain, and fell senseless. The\nwhole court was, of course, thrown into confusion; the knights\nrose from table, darting looks of indignation at the wretched\nqueen, whose tears and protestations were unable to remove their\nsuspicions. In spite of all that could be done the knight died,\nand nothing remained but to order a magnificent funeral and\nmonument for him, which was done.\n\nSome time after Sir Mador, brother of the murdered knight, arrived\nat Arthur's court in quest of him. While hunting in the forest he\nby chance came to the spot where the monument was erected, read\nthe inscription, and returned to court determined on immediate and\nsignal vengeance. He rode into the hall, loudly accused the queen\nof treason, and insisted on her being given up for punishment,\nunless she should find by a certain day a knight hardy enough to\nrisk his life in support of her innocence. Arthur, powerful as he\nwas, did not dare to deny the appeal, but was compelled with a\nheavy heart to accept it, and Mador sternly took his departure,\nleaving the royal couple plunged in terror and anxiety.\n\nDuring all this time Launcelot was absent, and no one knew where\nhe was. He fled in anger from his fair mistress, upon being\nreproached by her with his passion for the Lady of Shalott, which\nshe had hastily inferred from his wearing her scarf at the\ntournament. He took up his abode with a hermit in the forest, and\nresolved to think no more of the cruel beauty, whose conduct he\nthought must flow from a wish to get rid of him. Yet calm\nreflection had somewhat cooled his indignation, and he had begun\nto wish, though hardly able to hope, for a reconciliation when the\nnews of Sir Mador's challenge fortunately reached his ears. The\nintelligence revived his spirits, and he began to prepare with the\nutmost cheerfulness for a contest which, if successful, would\ninsure him at once the affection of his mistress and the gratitude\nof his sovereign.\n\nThe sad fate of the Lady of Shalott had ere this completely\nacquitted Launcelot in the queen's mind of all suspicion of his\nfidelity, and she lamented most grievously her foolish quarrel\nwith him, which now, at her time of need, deprived her of her most\nefficient champion.\n\nAs the day appointed by Sir Mador was fast approaching, it became\nnecessary that she should procure a champion for her defence; and\nshe successively adjured Sir Hector, Sir Lionel, Sir Bohort, and\nSir Gawain to undertake the battle. She fell on her knees before\nthem, called heaven to witness her innocence of the crime alleged\nagainst her, but was sternly answered by all that they could not\nfight to maintain the innocence of one whose act, and the fatal\nconsequence of it, they had seen with their own eyes. She retired,\ntherefore, dejected and disconsolate; but the sight of the fatal\npile on which, if guilty, she was doomed to be burned, exciting\nher to fresh effort, she again repaired to Sir Bohort, threw\nherself at his feet, and piteously calling on him for mercy, fell\ninto a swoon. The brave knight was not proof against this. He\nraised her up, and hastily promised that he would undertake her\ncause, if no other or better champion should present himself. He\nthen summoned his friends, and told them his resolution; and as a\nmortal combat with Sir Mador was a most fearful enterprise, they\nagreed to accompany him in the morning to the hermitage in the\nforest, where he proposed to receive absolution from the hermit,\nand to make his peace with Heaven before he entered the lists. As\nthey approached the hermitage, they espied a knight riding in the\nforest, whom they at once recognized as Sir Launcelot. Overjoyed\nat the meeting, they quickly, in answer to his questions,\nconfirmed the news of the queen's imminent danger, and received\nhis instructions to return to court, to comfort her as well as\nthey could, but to say nothing of his intention of undertaking her\ndefence, which he meant to do in tne character of an unknown\nadventurer.\n\nOn their return to the castle they found that mass was finished,\nand had scarcely time to speak to the queen before they were\nsummoned into the hall to dinner. A general gloom was spread over\nthe countenances of all the guests. Arthur himself was unable to\nconceal his dejection, and the wretched Guenever, motionless and\nbathed in tears, sat in trembling expectation of Sir Mador's\nappearance. Nor was it long ere he stalked into the hall, and with\na voice of thunder, rendered more impressive by the general\nsilence, demanded instant justice on the guilty party. Arthur\nreplied with dignity, that little of the day was yet spent, and\nthat perhaps a champion might yet be found capable of satisfying\nhis thirst for battle. Sir Bohort now rose from table, and shortly\nreturning in complete armor, resumed his place, after receiving\nthe embraces and thanks of the king, who now began to resume some\ndegree of confidence. Sir Mador, growing impatient, again repeated\nhis denunciations of vengeance, and insisted that the combat\nshould no longer be postponed.\n\nIn the height of the debate there came riding into the hall a\nknight mounted on a black steed, and clad in black armor, with his\nvisor down, and lance in hand. \"Sir,\" said the king, \"is it your\nwill to alight and partake of our cheer?\" \"Nay, sir,\" he replied;\n\"I come to save a lady's life. The queen hath ill bestowed her\nfavors, and honored many a knight, that in her hour of need she\nshould have none to take her part. Thou that darest accuse her of\ntreachery, stand forth, for to-day shalt thou need all thy might.\"\n\nSir Mador, though surprised, was not appalled by the stern\nchallenge and formidable appearance of his antagonist, but\nprepared for the encounter. At the first shock both were unhorsed.\nThey then drew their swords, and commenced a combat which lasted\nfrom noon till evening, when Sir Mador, whose strength began to\nfail, was felled to the ground by Launcelot, and compelled to sue\nfor mercy. The victor, whose arm was already raised to terminate\nthe life of his opponent, instantly dropped his sword, courteously\nlifted up the fainting Sir Mador, frankly confessing that he had\nnever before encountered so formidable an enemy. The other, with\nsimilar courtesy, solemnly renounced all further projects of\nvengeance for his brother's death; and the two knights, now become\nfast friends, embraced each other with the greatest cordiality. In\nthe meantime Arthur, having recognized Sir Launcelot, whose helmet\nwas now unlaced, rushed down into the lists, followed by all his\nknights, to welcome and thank his deliverer. Guenever swooned with\njoy, and the place of combat suddenly exhibited a scene of the\nmost tumultuous delight.\n\nThe general satisfaction was still further increased by the\ndiscovery of the real culprit. Having accidentally incurred some\nsuspicion, he confessed his crime, and was publicly punished in\nthe presence of Sir Mador.\n\nThe court now returned to the castle, which, with the title of \"La\nJoyeuse Garde\" bestowed upon it in memory of the happy event, was\nconferred on Sir Launcelot by Arthur, as a memorial of his\ngratitude.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nTRISTRAM AND ISOUDE\n\n\nMeliadus was king of Leonois, or Lionesse, a country famous in the\nannals of romance, which adjoined the kingdom of Cornwall, but has\nnow disappeared from the map, having been, it is said, overwhelmed\nby the ocean. Meliadus was married to Isabella, sister of Mark,\nking of Cornwall. A fairy fell in love with him, and drew him away\nby enchantment while he was engaged in hunting. His queen set out\nin quest of him, but was taken ill on her journey, and died,\nleaving an infant son, whom, from the melancholy circumstances of\nhis birth, she called Tristram.\n\nGouvernail, the queen's squire, who had accompanied her, took\ncharge of the child, and restored him to his father, who had at\nlength burst the enchantments of the fairy, and returned home.\n\nMeliadus after seven years married again, and the new queen, being\njealous of the influence of Tristram with his father, laid plots\nfor his life, which were discovered by Gouvernail, who in\nconsequence fled with the boy to the court of the king of France,\nwhere Tristram was kindly received, and grew up improving in every\ngallant and knightly accomplishment, adding to his skill in arms\nthe arts of music and of chess. In particular, he devoted himself\nto the chase and to all woodland sports, so that he became\ndistinguished above all other chevaliers of the court for his\nknowledge of all that relates to hunting. No wonder that Belinda,\nthe king's daughter, fell in love with him; but as he did not\nreturn her passion, she, in a sudden impulse of anger, excited her\nfather against him, and he was banished the kingdom. The princess\nsoon repented of her act, and in despair destroyed herself, having\nfirst written a most tender letter to Tristram, sending him at the\nsame time a beautiful and sagacious dog, of which she was very\nfond, desiring him to keep it as a memorial of her. Meliadus was\nnow dead, and as his queen, Tristram's stepmother, held the\nthrone, Gouvernail was afraid to carry his pupil to his native\ncountry, and took him to Cornwall, to his uncle Mark, who gave him\na kind reception.\n\nKing Mark resided at the castle of Tintadel, already mentioned in\nthe history of Uther and Igerne. In this court Tristram became\ndistinguished in all the exercises incumbent on a knight; nor was\nit long before he had an opportunity of practically employing his\nvalor and skill. Moraunt, a celebrated champion, brother to the\nqueen of Ireland, arrived at the court, to demand tribute of King\nMark. The knights of Cornwall are in ill repute in romance for\ntheir cowardice, and they exhibited it on this occasion. King Mark\ncould find no champion who dared to encounter the Irish knight,\ntill his nephew Tristram, who had not yet received the honors of\nknighthood, craved to be admitted to the order, offering at the\nsame time to fight the battle of Cornwall against the Irish\nchampion. King Mark assented with reluctance; Tristram received\nthe accolade, which conferred knighthood upon him, and the place\nand time were assigned for the encounter.\n\nWithout attempting to give the details of this famous combat, the\nfirst and one of the most glorious of Tristram's exploits, we\nshall only say that the young knight, though severely wounded,\ncleft the head of Moraunt, leaving a portion of his sword in the\nwound. Moraunt, half dead with his wound and the disgrace of his\ndefeat, hastened to hide himself in his ship, sailed away with all\nspeed for Ireland, and died soon after arriving in his own\ncountry.\n\nThe kingdom of Cornwall was thus delivered from its tribute.\nTristram, weakened by loss of blood, fell senseless. His friends\nflew to his assistance. They dressed his wounds, which in general\nhealed readily; but the lance of Moraunt was poisoned, and one\nwound which it made yielded to no remedies, but grew worse day by\nday. The surgeons could do no more. Tristram asked permission of\nhis uncle to depart, and seek for aid in the kingdom of Loegria\n(England). With his consent he embarked, and after tossing for\nmany days on the sea, was driven by the winds to the coast of\nIreland. He landed, full of joy and gratitude that he had escaped\nthe peril of the sea; took his rote,[Footnote: A musical\ninstrument.] and began to play. It was a summer evening, and the\nking of Ireland and his daughter, the beautiful Isoude, were at a\nwindow which overlooked the sea. The strange harper was sent for,\nand conveyed to the palace, where, finding that he was in Ireland,\nwhose champion he had lately slain, he concealed his name, and\ncalled himself Tramtris. The queen undertook his cure, and by a\nmedicated bath gradually restored him to health. His skill in\nmusic and in games occasioned his being frequently called to\ncourt, and he became the instructor of the princess Isoude in\nminstrelsy and poetry, who profited so well under his care, that\nshe soon had no equal in the kingdom, except her instructor.\n\nAt this time a tournament was held, at which many knights of the\nRound Table, and others, were present. On the first day a Saracen\nprince, named Palamedes, obtained the advantage over all. They\nbrought him to the court, and gave him a feast, at which Tristram,\njust recovering from his wound, was present. The fair Isoude\nappeared on this occasion in all her charms. Palamedes could not\nbehold them without emotion, and made no effort to conceal his\nlove. Tristram perceived it, and the pain he felt from jealousy\ntaught him how dear the fair Isoude had already become to him.\n\nNext day the tournament was renewed. Tristram, still feeble from\nhis wound, rose during the night, took his arms, and concealed\nthem in a forest near the place of the contest, and, after it had\nbegun, mingled with the combatants. He overthrew all that\nencountered him, in particular Palamedes, whom he brought to the\nground with a stroke of his lance, and then fought him hand to\nhand, bearing off the prize of the tourney. But his exertions\ncaused his wound to reopen; he bled fast, and in this sad state,\nyet in triumph, they bore him to the palace. The fair Isoude\ndevoted herself to his relief with an interest which grew more\nvivid day by day; and her skilful care soon restored him to\nhealth.\n\nIt happened one day that a damsel of the court, entering the\ncloset where Tristram's arms were deposited, perceived that a part\nof the sword had been broken off. It occurred to her that the\nmissing portion was like that which was left in the skull of\nMoraunt, the Irish champion. She imparted her thought to the\nqueen, who compared the fragment taken from her brother's wound\nwith the sword of Tristram, and was satisfied that it was part of\nthe same, and that the weapon of Tristram was that which reft her\nbrother's life. She laid her griefs and resentment before the\nking, who satisfied himself with his own eyes of the truth of her\nsuspicions. Tristram was cited before the whole court, and\nreproached with having dared to present himself before them after\nhaving slain their kinsman. He acknowledged that he had fought\nwith Moraunt to settle the claim for tribute, and said that it was\nby force of winds and waves alone that he was thrown on their\ncoast. The queen demanded vengeance for the death of her brother;\nthe fair Isoude trembled and grew pale, but a murmur rose from all\nthe assembly that the life of one so handsome and so brave should\nnot be taken for such a cause, and generosity finally triumphed\nover resentment in the mind of the king. Tristram was dismissed in\nsafety, but commanded to leave the kingdom without delay, and\nnever to return thither under pain of death Tristram went back,\nwith restored health, to Cornwall.\n\nKing Mark made his nephew give him a minute recital of his\nadventures. Tristram told him all minutely; but when he came to\nspeak of the fair Isoude he described her charms with a warmth and\nenergy such as none but a lover could display. King Mark was\nfascinated with the description, and, choosing a favorable time,\ndemanded a boon[Footnote: \"Good faith was the very corner-stone of\nchivalry. Whenever a knight's word was pledged (it mattered not\nhow rashly) it was to be redeemed at any price. Hence the sacred\nobligation of the boon granted by a knight to his suppliant.\nInstances without number occur in romance, in which a knight, by\nrashly granting an indefinite boon, was obliged to do or suffer\nsomething extremely to his prejudice. But it is not in romance\nalone that we find such singular instances of adherence to an\nindefinite promise. The history of the times presents authentic\ntransactions equally embarrassing and absurd\"--SCOTT, note to Sir\nTristram.] of his nephew, who readily granted it. The king made\nhim swear upon the holy reliques that he would fulfil his\ncommands. Then Mark directed him to go to Ireland, and obtain for\nhim the fair Isoude to be queen of Cornwall.\n\nTristram believed it was certain death for him to return to\nIreland; and how could he act as ambassador for his uncle in such\na cause? Yet, bound by his oath, he hesitated not for an instant.\nHe only took the precaution to change his armor. He embarked for\nIreland; but a tempest drove him to the coast of England, near\nCamelot, where King Arthur was holding his court, attended by the\nknights of the Round Table, and many others, the most illustrious\nin the world.\n\nTristram kept himself unknown. He took part in many justs; he\nfought many combats, in which he covered himself with glory. One\nday he saw among those recently arrived the king of Ireland,\nfather of the fair Isoude. This prince, accused of treason against\nhis liege sovereign, Arthur, came to Camelot to free himself from\nthe charge. Blaanor, one of the most redoubtable warriors of the\nRound Table, was his accuser, and Argius, the king, had neither\nyouthful vigor nor strength to encounter him. He must therefore\nseek a champion to sustain his innocence. But the knights of the\nRound Table were not at liberty to fight against one another,\nunless in a quarrel of their own. Argius heard of the great renown\nof the unknown knight; he also was witness of his exploits. He\nsought him, and conjured him to adopt his defence, and on his oath\ndeclared that he was innocent of the crime of which he was\naccused. Tristram readily consented, and made himself known to the\nking, who on his part promised to reward his exertions, if\nsuccessful, with whatever gift he might ask.\n\nTristram fought with Blaanor, and overthrew him, and held his life\nin his power. The fallen warrior called on him to use his right of\nconquest, and strike the fatal blow. \"God forbid,\" said Tristram,\n\"that I should take the life of so brave a knight!\" He raised him\nup and restored him to his friends. The judges of the field\ndecided that the king of Ireland was acquitted of the charge\nagainst him, and they led Tristram in triumph to his tent. King\nArgius, full of gratitude, conjured Tristram to accompany him to\nhis kingdom. They departed together, and arrived in Ireland; and\nthe queen, forgetting her resentment for her brother's death,\nexhibited to the preserver of her husband's life nothing but\ngratitude and good-will.\n\nHow happy a moment for Isoude, who knew that her father had\npromised his deliverer whatever boon he might ask! But the unhappy\nTristram gazed on her with despair, at the thought of the cruel\noath which bound him. His magnanimous soul subdued the force of\nhis love. He revealed the oath which he had taken, and with\ntrembling voice demanded the fair Isoude for his uncle.\n\nArgius consented, and soon all was prepared for the departure of\nIsoude. Brengwain, her favorite maid of honor, was to accompany\nher. On the day of departure the queen took aside this devoted\nattendant, and told her that she had observed that her daughter\nand Tristram were attached to one another, and that to avert the\nbad effects of this inclination she had procured from a powerful\nfairy a potent philter (love-draught), which she directed\nBrengwain to administer to Isoude and to King Mark on the evening\nof their marriage.\n\nIsoude and Tristram embarked together. A favorable wind filled the\nsails, and promised them a fortunate voyage. The lovers gazed upon\none another, and could not repress their sighs. Love seemed to\nlight up all his fires on their lips, as in their hearts. The day\nwas warm; they suffered from thirst. Isoude first complained.\nTristram descried the bottle containing the love-draught, which\nBrengwain had been so imprudent as to leave in sight. He took it,\ngave some of it to the charming Isoude, and drank the remainder\nhimself. The dog Houdain licked the cup. The ship arrived in\nCornwall, and Isoude was married to King Mark, The old monarch was\ndelighted with his bride, and his gratitude to Tristram was\nunbounded. He loaded him with honors, and made him chamberlain of\nhis palace, thus giving him access to the queen at all times.\n\nIn the midst of the festivities of the court which followed the\nroyal marriage, an unknown minstrel one day presented himself,\nbearing a harp of peculiar construction. He excited the curiosity\nof King Mark by refusing to play upon it till he should grant him\na boon. The king having promised to grant his request, the\nminstrel, who was none other than the Saracen knight, Sir\nPalamedes, the lover of the fair Isoude, sung to the harp a lay,\nin which he demanded Isoude as the promised gift. King Mark could\nnot by the laws of knighthood withhold the boon. The lady was\nmounted on her horse, and led away by her triumphant lover.\nTristram, it is needless to say, was absent at the time, and did\nnot return until their departure. When he heard what had taken\nplace he seized his rote, and hastened to the shore, where Isoude\nand her new master had already embarked. Tristram played upon his\nrote, and the sound reached the ears of Isoude, who became so\ndeeply affected, that Sir Palamedes was induced to return with her\nto land, that they might see the unknown musician. Tristram\nwatched his opportunity, seized the lady's horse by the bridle,\nand plunged with her into the forest, tauntingly informing his\nrival that \"what he had got by the harp he had lost by the rote.\"\nPalamedes pursued, and a combat was about to commence, the result\nof which must have been fatal to one or other of these gallant\nknights; but Isoude stepped between them, and, addressing\nPalamedes, said, \"You tell me that you love me; you will not then\ndeny me the request I am about to make?\" \"Lady,\" he replied, \"I\nwill perform your bidding.\" \"Leave, then,\" said she, \"this\ncontest, and repair to King Arthur's court, and salute Queen\nGuenever from me; tell her that there are in the world but two\nladies, herself and I, and two lovers, hers and mine; and come\nthou not in future in any place where I am.\" Palamedes burst into\ntears. \"Ah, lady,\" said he, \"I will obey you; but I beseech you\nthat you will not for ever steel your heart against me.\"\n\"Palamedes,\" she replied, \"may I never taste of joy again if I\never quit my first love.\" Palamedes then went his way. The lovers\nremained a week in concealment, after which Tristram restored\nIsoude to her husband, advising him in future to reward minstrels\nin some other way.\n\nThe king showed much gratitude to Tristram, but in the bottom of\nhis heart he cherished bitter jealousy of him. One day Tristram\nand Isoude were alone together in her private chamber. A base and\ncowardly knight of the court, named Andret, spied them through a\nkeyhole. They sat at a table of chess, but were not attending to\nthe game. Andret brought the king, having first raised his\nsuspicions, and placed him so as to watch their motions. The king\nsaw enough to confirm his suspicions, and he burst into the\napartment with his sword drawn, and had nearly slain Tristram\nbefore he was put on his guard. But Tristram avoided the blow,\ndrew his sword, and drove before him the cowardly monarch, chasing\nhim through all the apartments of the palace, giving him frequent\nblows with the flat of his sword, while he cried in vain to his\nknights to save him. They were not inclined, or did not dare, to\ninterpose in his behalf.\n\nA proof of the great popularity of the tale of Sir Tristram is the\nfact that the Italian poets, Boiardo and Ariosto, have founded\nupon it the idea of the two enchanted fountains, which produced\nthe opposite effects of love and hatred. Boiardo thus describes\nthe fountain of hatred:\n\n   \"Fair was that fountain, sculptured all of gold,\n    With alabaster sculptured, rich and rare;\n    And in its basin clear thou might'st behold\n    The flowery marge reflected fresh and fair.\n    Sage Merlin framed the font,--so legends bear,--\n    When on fair Isoude doated Tristram brave,\n    That the good errant knight, arriving there,\n    Might quaff oblivion in the enchanted wave,\n  And leave his luckless love, and 'scape his timeless grave.\n\n   'But ne'er the warrior's evil fate allowed\n    His steps that fountain's charmed verge to gain.\n    Though restless, roving on adventure proud,\n    He traversed oft the land and oft the main.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nTRISTRAM AND ISOUDE (Continued)\n\n\nAfter this affair Tristram was banished from the kingdom, and\nIsoude shut up in a tower, which stood on the bank of a river.\nTristram could not resolve to depart without some further\ncommunication with his beloved; so he concealed himself in the\nforest, till at last he contrived to attract her attention, by\nmeans of twigs which he curiously peeled, and sent down the stream\nunder her window. By this means many secret interviews were\nobtained. Tristram dwelt in the forest, sustaining himself by\ngame, which the dog Houdain ran down for him; for this faithful\nanimal was unequalled in the chase, and knew so well his master's\nwish for concealment, that, in the pursuit of his game, he never\nbarked. At length Tristram departed, but left Houdain with Isoude,\nas a remembrancer of him.\n\nSir Tristram wandered through various countries, achieving the\nmost perilous enterprises, and covering himself with glory, yet\nunhappy at the separation from his beloved Isoude. At length King\nMark's territory was invaded by a neighboring chieftain, and he\nwas forced to summon his nephew to his aid. Tristram obeyed the\ncall, put himself at the head of his uncle's vassals, and drove\nthe enemy out of the country. Mark was full of gratitude, and\nTristram, restored to favor and to the society of his beloved\nIsoude, seemed at the summit of happiness. But a sad reverse was\nat hand.\n\nTristram had brought with him a friend named Pheredin, son of the\nking of Brittany. This young knight saw Queen Isoude, and could\nnot resist her charms. Knowing the love of his friend for the\nqueen, and that that love was returned, Pheredin concealed his\nown, until his health failed, and he feared he was drawing near\nhis end. He then wrote to the beautiful queen that he was dying\nfor love of her.\n\nThe gentle Isoude, in a moment of pity for the friend of Tristram,\nreturned him an answer so kind and compassionate that it restored\nhim to life. A few days afterwards Tristram found this letter. The\nmost terrible jealousy took possession of his soul; he would have\nslain Pheredin, who with difficulty made his escape. Then Tristram\nmounted his horse, and rode to the forest, where for ten days he\ntook no rest nor food. At length he was found by a damsel lying\nalmost dead by the brink of a fountain. She recognized him, and\ntried in vain to rouse his attention. At last recollecting his\nlove for music she went and got her harp, and played thereon.\nTristram was roused from his reverie; tears flowed; he breathed\nmore freely; he took the harp from the maiden, and sung this lay,\nwith a voice broken with sobs:\n\n    \"Sweet I sang in former days,\n     Kind love perfected my lays:\n     Now my art alone displays\n     The woe that on my being preys.\n\n    \"Charming love, delicious power,\n     Worshipped from my earliest hour,\n     Thou who life on all dost shower,\n     Love! my life thou dost devour.\n\n    \"In death's hour I beg of thee,\n     Isoude, dearest enemy,\n     Thou who erst couldst kinder be,\n     When I'm gone, forget not me.\n\n    \"On my gravestone passers-by\n     Oft will read, as low I lie,\n     'Never wight in love could vie\n     With Tristram, yet she let him die.'\"\n\nTristram, having finished his lay, wrote it off and gave it to the\ndamsel, conjuring her to present it to the queen.\n\nMeanwhile Queen Isoude was inconsolable at the absence of\nTristram. She discovered that it was caused by the fatal letter\nwhich she had written to Pheredin. Innocent, but in despair at the\nsad effects of her letter, she wrote another to Pheredin, charging\nhim never to see her again. The unhappy lover obeyed this cruel\ndecree. He plunged into the forest, and died of grief and love in\na hermit's cell.\n\nIsoude passed her days in lamenting the absence and unknown fate\nof Tristram. One day her jealous husband, having entered her\nchamber unperceived, overheard her singing the following lay:\n\n    \"My voice to piteous wail is bent,\n     My harp to notes of languishment;\n     Ah, love! delightsome days be meant\n     For happier wights, with hearts content.\n\n    \"Ah, Tristram' far away from me,\n     Art thou from restless anguish free?\n     Ah! couldst thou so one moment be,\n     From her who so much loveth thee?\"\n\nThe king hearing these words burst forth in a rage; but Isoude was\ntoo wretched to fear his violence. \"You have heard me,\" she said;\n\"I confess it all. I love Tristram, and always shall love him.\nWithout doubt he is dead, and died for me. I no longer wish to\nlive. The blow that shall finish my misery will be most welcome.\"\n\nThe king was moved at the distress of the fair Isoude, and perhaps\nthe idea of Tristram's death tended to allay his wrath. He left\nthe queen in charge of her women, commanding them to take especial\ncare lest her despair should lead her to do harm to herself.\n\nTristram meanwhile, distracted as he was, rendered a most\nimportant service to the shepherds by slaying a gigantic robber\nnamed Taullas, who was in the habit of plundering their flocks and\nrifling their cottages. The shepherds, in their gratitude to\nTristram, bore him in triumph to King Mark to have him bestow on\nhim a suitable reward. No wonder Mark failed to recognize in the\nhalf-clad, wild man, before him his nephew Tristram; but grateful\nfor the service the unknown had rendered he ordered him to be well\ntaken care of, and gave him in charge to the queen and her women.\nUnder such care Tristram rapidly recovered his serenity and his\nhealth, so that the romancer tells us he became handsomer than\never. King Mark's jealousy revived with Tristram's health and good\nlooks, and, in spite of his debt of gratitude so lately increased,\nhe again banished him from the court.\n\nSir Tristram left Cornwall, and proceeded into the land of Loegria\n(England) in quest of adventures. One day he entered a wide\nforest. The sound of a little bell showed him that some inhabitant\nwas near. He followed the sound, and found a hermit, who informed\nhim that he was in the forest of Arnantes, belonging to the fairy\nViviane, the Lady of the Lake, who, smitten with love for King\nArthur, had found means to entice him to this forest, where by\nenchantments she held him a prisoner, having deprived him of all\nmemory of who and what he was. The hermit informed him that all\nthe knights of the Round Table were out in search of the king, and\nthat he (Tristram) was now in the scene of the most grand and\nimportant adventures.\n\nThis was enough to animate Tristram in the search. He had not\nwandered far before he encountered a knight of Arthur's court, who\nproved to be Sir Kay the Seneschal, who demanded of him whence he\ncame. Tristram answering, \"From Cornwall,\" Sir Kay did not let\nslip the opportunity of a joke at the expense of the Cornish\nknight. Tristram chose to leave him in his error, and even\nconfirmed him in it; for meeting some other knights Tristram\ndeclined to just with them. They spent the night together at an\nabbey, where Tristram submitted patiently to all their jokes. The\nSeneschal gave the word to his companions that they should set out\nearly next day, and intercept the Cornish knight on his way, and\nenjoy the amusement of seeing his fright when they should insist\non running a tilt with him. Tristram next morning found himself\nalone; he put on his armor, and set out to continue his quest. He\nsoon saw before him the Seneschal and the three knights, who\nbarred the way, and insisted on a just. Tristram excused himself a\nlong time; at last he reluctantly took his stand. He encountered\nthem, one after the other, and overthrew them all four, man and\nhorse, and then rode off, bidding them not to forget their friend\nthe knight of Cornwall.\n\nTristram had not ridden far when he met a damsel, who cried out,\n\"Ah, my lord! hasten forward, and prevent a horrid treason!\"\nTristram flew to her assistance, and soon reached a spot where he\nbeheld a knight, whom three others had borne to the ground, and\nwere unlacing his helmet in order to cut off his head.\n\nTristram flew to the rescue, and slew with one stroke of his lance\none of the assailants. The knight, recovering his feet, sacrificed\nanother to his vengeance, and the third made his escape. The\nrescued knight then raised the visor of his helmet, and a long\nwhite beard fell down upon his breast. The majesty and venerable\nair of this knight made Tristram suspect that it was none other\nthan Arthur himself, and the prince confirmed his conjecture.\nTristram would have knelt before him, but Arthur received him in\nhis arms, and inquired his name and country; but Tristram declined\nto disclose them, on the plea that he was now on a quest requiring\nsecrecy. At this moment the damsel who had brought Tristram to the\nrescue darted forward, and, seizing the king's hand, drew from his\nfinger a ring, the gift of the fairy, and by that act dissolved\nthe enchantment. Arthur, having recovered his reason and his\nmemory, offered to Tristram to attach him to his court, and to\nconfer honors and dignities upon him; but Tristram declined all,\nand only consented to accompany him till he should see him safe in\nthe hands of his knights. Soon after, Hector de Marys rode up, and\nsaluted the king, who on his part introduced him to Tristram as\none of the bravest of his knights. Tristram took leave of the king\nand his faithful follower, and continued his quest.\n\nWe cannot follow Tristram through all the adventures which filled\nthis epoch of his history. Suffice it to say, he fulfilled on all\noccasions the duty of a true knight, rescuing the oppressed,\nredressing wrongs, abolishing evil customs, and suppressing\ninjustice, thus by constant action endeavoring to lighten the\npains of absence from her he loved. In the meantime Isoude,\nseparated from her dear Tristram, passed her days in languor and\nregret. At length she could no longer resist the desire to hear\nsome news of her lover. She wrote a letter, and sent it by one of\nher damsels, niece of her faithful Brengwain. One day Tristram,\nweary with his exertions, had dismounted and laid himself down by\nthe side of a fountain and fallen asleep. The damsel of Queen\nIsoude arrived at the same fountain, and recognized Passebreul,\nthe horse of Tristram, and presently perceived his master asleep.\nHe was thin and pale, showing evident marks of the pain he\nsuffered in separation from his beloved. She awakened him, and\ngave him the letter which she bore, and Tristram enjoyed the\npleasure, so sweet to a lover, of hearing from and talking about\nthe object of his affections. He prayed the damsel to postpone her\nreturn till after the magnificent tournament which Arthur had\nproclaimed should have taken place, and conducted her to the\ncastle of Persides, a brave and loyal knight, who received her\nwith great consideration.\n\nTristram conducted the damsel of Queen Isoude to the tournament,\nand had her placed in the balcony among the ladies of the queen.\n\n    \"He glanced and saw the stately galleries,\n    Dame, damsel, each through worship of their Queen\n    White-robed in honor of the stainless child,\n    And some with scatter'd jewels, like a bank\n    Of maiden snow mingled with sparks of fire.\n    He looked but once, and veiled his eyes again.\"\n\n    --The Last Tournament.\n\nHe then joined the tourney. Nothing could exceed his strength and\nvalor. Launcelot admired him, and by a secret presentiment\ndeclined to dispute the honor of the day with a knight so gallant\nand so skilful. Arthur descended from the balcony to greet the\nconqueror; but the modest and devoted Tristram, content with\nhaving borne off the prize in the sight of the messenger of\nIsoude, made his escape with her, and disappeared.\n\nThe next day the tourney recommenced. Tristram assumed different\narmor, that he might not be known; but he was soon detected by the\nterrible blows that he gave, Arthur and Guenever had no doubt that\nit was the same knight who had borne off the prize of the day\nbefore. Arthur's gallant spirit was roused. After Launcelot of the\nLake and Sir Gawain he was accounted the best knight of the Round\nTable. He went privately and armed himself, and came into the\ntourney in undistinguished armor. He ran a just with Tristram,\nwhom he shook in his seat; but Tristram, who did not know him,\nthrew him out of the saddle. Arthur recovered himself, and content\nwith having made proof of the stranger knight bade Launcelot\nfinish the adventure, and vindicate the honor of the Round Table.\nSir Launcelot, at the bidding of the monarch, assailed Tristram,\nwhose lance was already broken in former encounters. But the law\nof this sort of combat was that the knight after having broken his\nlance must fight with his sword, and must not refuse to meet with\nhis shield the lance of his antagonist. Tristram met Launcelot's\ncharge upon his shield, which that terrible lance could not fail\nto pierce. It inflicted a wound upon Tristram's side, and,\nbreaking, left the iron in the wound. But Tristram also with his\nsword smote so vigorously on Launcelot's casque that he cleft it,\nand wounded his head. The wound was not deep, but the blood flowed\ninto his eyes, and blinded him for a moment, and Tristram, who\nthought himself mortally wounded, retired from the field.\nLauncelot declared to the king that he had never received such a\nblow in his life before.\n\nTristram hastened to Gouvernail, his squire, who drew forth the\niron, bound up the wound, and gave him immediate ease. Tristram\nafter the tournament kept retired in his tent, but Arthur, with\nthe consent of all the knights of the Round Table, decreed him the\nhonors of the second day. But it was no longer a secret that the\nvictor of the two days was the same individual, and Gouvernail,\nbeing questioned, confirmed the suspicions of Launcelot and Arthur\nthat it was no other than Sir Tristram of Leonais, the nephew of\nthe king of Cornwall.\n\nKing Arthur, who desired to reward his distinguished valor, and\nknew that his Uncle Mark had ungratefully banished him, would have\neagerly availed himself of the opportunity to attach Tristram to\nhis court,--all the knights of the Round Table declaring with\nacclamation that it would be impossible to find a more worthy\ncompanion. But Tristram had already departed in search of\nadventures, and the damsel of Queen Isoude returned to her\nmistress.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nSIR TRISTRAM'S BATTLE WITH SIR LAUNCELOT\n\n\nSir Tristram rode through a forest and saw ten men fighting, and\none man did battle against nine. So he rode to the knights and\ncried to them, bidding them cease their battle, for they did\nthemselves great shame, so many knights to fight against one. Then\nanswered the master of the knights (his name was Sir Breuse sans\nPitie, who was at that time the most villanous knight living):\n\"Sir knight, what have ye to do to meddle with us? If ye be wise\ndepart on your way as you came, for this knight shall not escape\nus.\" \"That were pity,\" said Sir Tristram, \"that so good a knight\nshould be slain so cowardly; therefore I warn you I will succor\nhim with all my puissance.\"\n\nThen Sir Tristram alighted off his horse, because they were on\nfoot, that they should not slay his horse. And he smote on the\nright hand and on the left so vigorously that well-nigh at every\nstroke he struck down a knight. At last they fled, with Breuse\nsans Pitie, into the tower, and shut Sir Tristram without the\ngate. Then Sir Tristram returned back to the rescued knight, and\nfound him sitting under a tree, sore wounded. \"Fair knight,\" said\nhe, \"how is it with you?\" \"Sir knight,\" said Sir Palamedes, for he\nit was, \"I thank you of your great goodness, for ye have rescued\nme from death.\" \"What is your name?\" said Sir Tristram. He said,\n\"My name is Sir Palamedes.\" \"Say ye so?\" said Sir Tristram; \"now\nknow that thou art the man in the world that I most hate;\ntherefore make thee ready, for I will do battle with thee.\" \"What\nis your name?\" said Sir Palamedes. \"My name is Sir Tristram, your\nmortal enemy.\" \"It may be so,\" said Sir Palamedes; \"but you have\ndone overmuch for me this day, that I should fight with you.\nMoreover, it will be no honor for you to have to do with me, for\nyou are fresh and I am wounded. Therefore, if you will needs have\nto do with me, assign me a day, and I shall meet you without\nfail.\" \"You say well, \"said Sir Tristram; \"now I assign you to\nmeet me in the meadow by the river of Camelot, where Merlin set\nthe monument.\" So they were agreed. Then they departed and took\ntheir ways diverse. Sir Tristram passed through a great forest\ninto a plain, till he came to a priory, and there he reposed him\nwith a good man six days.\n\nThen departed Sir Tristram, and rode straight into Camelot to the\nmonument of Merlin, and there he looked about him for Sir\nPalamedes. And he perceived a seemly knight, who came riding\nagainst him all in white, with a covered shield. When he came nigh\nSir Tristram said aloud, \"Welcome, sir knight, and well and truly\nhave you kept your promise.\" Then they made ready their shields\nand spears, and came together with all the might of their horses,\nso fiercely, that both the horses and the knights fell to the\nearth. And as soon as they might they quitted their horses, and\nstruck together with bright swords as men of might, and each\nwounded the other wonderfully sore, so that the blood ran out upon\nthe grass. Thus they fought for the space of four hours and never\none would speak to the other one word. Then at last spake the\nwhite knight, and said, \"Sir, thou fightest wonderful well, as\never I saw knight; therefore, if it please you, tell me your\nname.\" \"Why dost thou ask my name?\" said Sir Tristram; \"art thou\nnot Sir Palamedes?\" \"No, fair knight,\" said he, \"I am Sir\nLauncelot of the Lake.\" \"Alas!\" said Sir Tristram, \"what have I\ndone? for you are the man of the world that I love best.\" \"Fair\nknight,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"tell me your name.\" \"Truly,\" said\nhe, \"my name is Sir Tristram de Lionesse.\" \"Alas! alas!\" said Sir\nLauncelot, \"what adventure has befallen me!\" And therewith Sir\nLauncelot kneeled down and yielded him up his sword; and Sir\nTristram kneeled down and yielded him up his sword; and so either\ngave other the degree. And then they both went to the stone, and\nsat them down upon it and took off their helms and each kissed the\nother a hundred times. And then anon they rode toward Camelot, and\non the way they met with Sir Gawain and Sir Gaheris, that had made\npromise to Arthur never to come again to the court till they had\nbrought Sir Tristram with them.\n\n\"Return again,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"for your quest is done; for I\nhave met with Sir Tristram. Lo, here he is in his own person.\"\nThen was Sir Gawain glad, and said to Sir Tristram, \"Ye are\nwelcome.\" With this came King Arthur, and when he wist there was\nSir Tristram, he ran unto him, and took him by the hand, and said,\n\"Sir Tristram, ye are as welcome as any knight that ever came to\nthis court.\" Then Sir Tristram told the king how he came thither\nfor to have had to do with Sir Palamedes, and how he had rescued\nhim from Sir Breuse sans Pitie and the nine knights. Then King\nArthur took Sir Tristram by the hand, and went to the Table Round,\nand Queen Guenever came, and many ladies with her, and all the\nladies said with one voice, \"Welcome, Sir Tristram.\" \"Welcome,\"\nsaid the knights. \"Welcome,\" said Arthur, \"for one of the best of\nknights, and the gentlest of the world, and the man of most\nworship; for of all manner of hunting thou bearest the prize, and\nof all measures of blowing thou art the beginning, and of all the\nterms of hunting and hawking ye are the inventor, and of all\ninstruments of music ye are the best skilled; therefore, gentle\nknight,\" said Arthur, \"ye are welcome to this court.\" And then\nKing Arthur made Sir Tristram knight of the Table Round with great\nnobley and feasting as can be thought.\n\nSIR TRISTRAM AS A SPORTSMAN\n\nTristram is often alluded to by the Romancers as the great\nauthority and model in all matters relating to the chase. In the\n\"Faery Queene,\" Tristram, in answer to the inquiries of Sir\nCalidore, informs him of his name and parentage, and concludes:\n\n    \"All which my days I have not lewdly spent,\n    Nor spilt the blossom of my tender years\n    In idlesse; but, as was convenient,\n    Have trained been with many noble feres\n    In gentle thewes, and such like seemly leers;\n    'Mongst which my most delight hath always been\n    To hunt the salvage chace, amongst my peers,\n    Of all that rangeth in the forest green,\n    Of which none is to me unknown that yet was seen.\n\n    \"Ne is there hawk which mantleth on her perch,\n    Whether high towering or accosting low,\n    But I the measure of her flight do search,\n    And all her prey, and all her diet know.\n    Such be our joys, which in these forests grow.\"\n\n[Footnote: Feres, companions; thewes, labors; leers, learning.]\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nTHE ROUND TABLE\n\n\nThe famous enchanter, Merlin, had exerted all his skill in\nfabricating the Round Table. Of the seats which surrounded it he\nhad constructed thirteen, in memory of the thirteen Apostles.\nTwelve of these seats only could be occupied, and they only by\nknights of the highest fame; the thirteenth represented the seat\nof the traitor Judas. It remained always empty. It was called the\nPERILOUS SEAT, ever since a rash and haughty Saracen knight had\ndared to place himself in it, when the earth opened and swallowed\nhim up.\n\n    \"In our great hall there stood a vacant chair,\n    Fashion'd by Merlin ere he past away,\n    And carven with strange figures; and in and out\n    The figures, like a serpent, ran a scroll\n    Of letters in a tongue no man could read\n    And Merlin call'd it 'The Siege perilous,'\n    Perilous for good and ill; 'for there,' he said,\n    'No man could sit but he should lose himself.'\"\n\n    --The Holy Grail.\n\nA magic power wrote upon each seat the name of the knight who was\nentitled to sit in it. No one could succeed to a vacant seat\nunless he surpassed in valor and glorious deeds the knight who had\noccupied it before him; without this qualification he would be\nviolently repelled by a hidden force. Thus proof was made of all\nthose who presented themselves to replace any companions of the\norder who had fallen.\n\nOne of the principal seats, that of Moraunt of Ireland, had been\nvacant ten years, and his name still remained over it ever since\nthe time when that distinguished champion fell beneath the sword\nof Sir Tristram. Arthur now took Tristram by the hand and led him\nto that seat. Immediately the most melodious sounds were heard,\nand exquisite perfumes filled the place; the name of Moraunt\ndisappeared, and that of Tristram blazed forth in light. The rare\nmodesty of Tristram had now to be subjected to a severe task; for\nthe clerks charged with the duty of preserving the annals of the\nRound Table attended, and he was required by the law of his order\nto declare what feats of arms he had accomplished to entitle him\nto take that seat. This ceremony being ended, Tristram received\nthe congratulations of all his companions. Sir Launcelot and\nGuenever took the occasion to speak to him of the fair Isoude, and\nto express their wish that some happy chance might bring her to\nthe kingdom of Loegria.\n\nWhile Tristram was thus honored and caressed at the court of King\nArthur, the most gloomy and malignant jealousy harassed the soul\nof Mark. He could not look upon Isoude without remembering that\nshe loved Tristram, and the good fortune of his nephew goaded him\nto thoughts of vengeance. He at last resolved to go disguised into\nthe kingdom of Loegria, attack Tristram by stealth, and put him to\ndeath. He took with him two knights, brought up in his court, who\nhe thought were devoted to him; and, not willing to leave Isoude\nbehind, named two of her maidens to attend her, together with her\nfaithful Brengwain, and made them accompany him.\n\nHaving arrived in the neighborhood of Camelot, Mark imparted his\nplan to his two knights, but they rejected it with horror; nay,\nmore, they declared that they would no longer remain in his\nservice; and left him, giving him reason to suppose that they\nshould repair to the court to accuse him before Arthur. It was\nnecessary for Mark to meet and rebut their accusation; so, leaving\nIsoude in an abbey, he pursued his way alone to Camelot.\n\nMark had not ridden far when he encountered a party of knights of\nArthur's court, and would have avoided them, for he knew their\nhabit of challenging to a just every stranger knight whom they\nmet. But it was too late. They had seen his armor, and recognized\nhim as a Cornish knight, and at once resolved to have some sport\nwith him. It happened they had with them Daguenet, King Arthur's\nfool, who, though deformed and weak of body, was not wanting in\ncourage. The knights as Mark approached laid their plan that\nDaguenet should personate Sir Launcelot of the Lake, and challenge\nthe Cornish knight. They equipped him in armor belonging to one of\ntheir number who was ill, and sent him forward to the cross-road\nto defy the strange knight. Mark, who saw that his antagonist was\nby no means formidable in appearance, was not disinclined to the\ncombat; but when the dwarf rode towards him, calling out that he\nwas Sir Launcelot of the Lake, his fears prevailed, he put spurs\nto his horse, and rode away at full speed, pursued by the shouts\nand laughter of the party.\n\nMeanwhile Isoude, remaining at the abbey with her faithful\nBrengwain, found her only amusement in walking occasionally in a\nforest adjoining the abbey. There, on the brink of a fountain\ngirdled with trees, she thought of her love, and sometimes joined\nher voice and her harp in lays reviving the memory of its pains or\npleasures. One day the caitiff knight, Breuse the Pitiless, heard\nher voice, concealed himself, and drew near. She sang:\n\n    \"Sweet silence, shadowy bower, and verdant lair,\n       Ye court my troubled spirit to repose,\n     Whilst I, such dear remembrance rises there,\n       Awaken every echo with my woes\n\n    \"Within these woods, by nature's hand arrayed,\n       A fountain springs, and feeds a thousand flowers;\n    Ah! how my groans do all its murmurs aid!\n       How my sad eyes do swell it with their showers!\n\n    \"What doth my knight the while? to him is given\n       A double meed; in love and arms' emprise,\n    Him the Round Table elevates to heaven!\n       Tristram! ah me! he hears not Isoude's cries.\"\n\nBreuse the Pitiless, who like most other caitiffs had felt the\nweight of Tristram's arm, and hated him accordingly, at hearing\nhis name breathed forth by the beautiful songstress, impelled by a\ndouble impulse, rushed forth from his concealment and laid hands\non his victim. Isoude fainted, and Brengwain filled the air with\nher shrieks. Breuse carried Isoude to the place where he had left\nhis horse; but the animal had got away from his bridle, and was at\nsome distance. He was obliged to lay down his fair burden, and go\nin pursuit of his horse. Just then a knight came up, drawn by the\ncries of Brengwain, and demanded the cause of her distress. She\ncould not speak, but pointed to her mistress lying insensible on\nthe ground.\n\nBreuse had by this time returned, and the cries of Brengwain,\nrenewed at seeing him, sufficiently showed the stranger the cause\nof the distress. Tristram spurred his horse towards Breuse, who,\nnot unprepared, ran to the encounter. Breuse was unhorsed, and lay\nmotionless, pretending to be dead; but when the stranger knight\nleft him to attend to the distressed damsels, he mounted his\nhorse, and made his escape.\n\nThe knight now approached Isoude, gently raised her head, drew\naside the golden hair which covered her countenance, gazed thereon\nfor an instant, uttered a cry, and fell back insensible. Brengwain\ncame; her cares soon restored her mistress to life, and they then\nturned their attention to the fallen warrior. They raised his\nvisor, and discovered the countenance of Sir Tristram. Isoude\nthrew herself on the body of her lover, and bedewed his face with\nher tears. Their warmth revived the knight, and Tristram on\nawaking found himself in the arms of his dear Isoude.\n\nIt was the law of the Round Table that each knight after his\nadmission should pass the next ten days in quest of adventures,\nduring which time his companions might meet him in disguised armor\nand try their strength with him. Tristram had now been out seven\ndays, and in that time had encountered many of the best knights of\nthe Round Table, and acquitted himself with honor. During the\nremaining three days, Isoude remained at the abbey, under his\nprotection, and then set out with her maidens, escorted by Sir\nTristram, to rejoin King Mark at the court of Camelot.\n\nThis happy journey was one of the brightest epochs in the lives of\nTristram and Isoude. He celebrated it by a lay upon the harp in a\npeculiar measure, to which the French give the name of Triolet.\n\n    \"With fair Isoude, and with love,\n     Ah! how sweet the life I lead!\n     How blest for ever thus to rove,\n     With fair Isoude, and with love!\n     As she wills, I live and move,\n     And cloudless days to days succeed:\n     With fair Isoude, and with love,\n     Ah! how sweet the life I lead!\n\n    \"Journeying on from break of day,\n     Feel you not fatigued, my fair?\n     Yon green turf invites to play;\n     Journeying on from day to day,\n     Ah! let us to that shade away,\n     Were it but to slumber there!\n     Journeying on from break of day,\n     Feel you not fatigued, my fair?\"\n\nThey arrived at Camelot, where Sir Launcelot received them most\ncordially. Isoude was introduced to King Arthur and Queen\nGuenever, who welcomed her as a sister. As King Mark was held in\narrest under the accusation of the two Cornish knights, Queen\nIsoude could not rejoin her husband, and Sir Launcelot placed his\ncastle of La Joyeuse Garde at the disposal of his friends, who\nthere took up their abode.\n\nKing Mark, who found himself obliged to confess the truth of the\ncharge against him, or to clear himself by combat with his\naccusers, preferred the former, and King Arthur, as his crime had\nnot been perpetrated, remitted the penalty, only enjoining upon\nhim, under pain of his signal displeasure, to lay aside all\nthoughts of vengeance against his nephew. In the presence of the\nking and his court all parties were formally reconciled; Mark and\nhis queen departed for their home, and Tristram remained at\nArthur's court.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nSIR PALAMEDES\n\n\nWhile Sir Tristram and the fair Isoude abode yet at La Joyeuse\nGarde, Sir Tristram rode forth one day, without armor, having no\nweapon but his spear and his sword. And as he rode he came to a\nplace where he saw two knights in battle, and one of them had\ngotten the better and the other lay overthrown. The knight who had\nthe better was Sir Palamedes. When Sir Palamedes knew Sir\nTristram, he cried out, \"Sir Tristram, now we be met, and ere we\ndepart we will redress our old wrongs.\" \"As for that,\" said Sir\nTristram, \"there never yet was Christian man that might make his\nboast that I ever fled from him, and thou that art a Saracen shalt\nnever say that of me.\" And therewith Sir Tristram made his horse\nto run, and with all his might came straight upon Sir Palamedes,\nand broke his spear upon him. Then he drew his sword and struck at\nSir Palamedes six great strokes, upon his helm. Sir Palamedes saw\nthat Sir Tristram had not his armor on, and he marvelled at his\nrashness and his great folly; and said to himself, \"If I meet and\nslay him, I am shamed wheresoever I go.\" Then Sir Tristram cried\nout and said, \"Thou coward knight, why wilt thou not do battle\nwith me? for have thou no doubt I shall endure all thy malice.\"\n\"Ah, Sir Tristram!\" said Sir Palamedes, \"thou knowest I may not\nfight with thee for shame; for thou art here naked, and I am\narmed; now I require that thou answer me a question that I shall\nask you.\" \"Tell me what it is,\" said Sir Tristram. \"I put the\ncase,\" said Palamedes, \"that you were well armed, and I naked as\nye be; what would you do to me now, by your true knighthood?\"\n\"Ah!\" said Sir Tristram, \"now I understand thee well, Sir\nPalamedes; and, as God bless me, what I shall say shall not be\nsaid for fear that I have of thee. But if it were so, thou\nshouldest depart from me, for I would not have to do with thee.\"\n\"No more will I with thee,\" said Sir Palamedes, \"and therefore\nride forth on thy way.\" \"As for that, I may choose,\" said Sir\nTristram, \"either to ride or to abide. But, Sir Palamedes, I\nmarvel at one thing,--that thou art so good a knight, yet that\nthou wilt not be christened.\" \"As for that,\" said Sir Palamedes,\n\"I may not yet be christened, for a vow which I made many years\nago; yet in my heart I believe in our Saviour and his mild mother,\nMary; but I have yet one battle to do, and when that is done I\nwill be christened, with a good will.\" \"By my head,\" said Sir\nTristram, \"as for that one battle, thou shalt seek it no longer;\nfor yonder is a knight, whom you have smitten down. Now help me to\nbe clothed in his armor, and I will soon fulfil thy vow.\" \"As ye\nwill,\" said Sir Palamedes, \"so shall it be.\" So they rode both\nunto that knight that sat on a bank; and Sir Tristram saluted him,\nand he full weary saluted him again. \"Sir,\" said Sir Tristram, \"I\npray you to lend me your whole armor; for I am unarmed, and I must\ndo battle with this knight.\" \"Sir,\" said the hurt knight, \"you\nshall have it, with a right good will,\" Then Sir Tristram unarmed\nSir Galleron, for that was the name of the hurt knight, and he as\nwell as he could helped to arm Sir Tristram. Then Sir Tristram\nmounted upon his own horse, and in his hand he took Sir Galleron's\nspear. Thereupon Sir Palamedes was ready, and so they came hurling\ntogether, and each smote the other in the midst of their shields.\nSir Palamedes' spear broke, and Sir Tristram smote down the horse.\nThen Sir Palamedes leapt from his horse, and drew out his sword.\nThat saw Sir Tristram, and therewith he alighted and tied his\nhorse to a tree. Then they came together as two wild beasts,\nlashing the one on the other, and so fought more than two hours;\nand often Sir Tristram smote such strokes at Sir Palamedes that he\nmade him to kneel, and Sir Palamedes broke away Sir Tristram's\nshield, and wounded him. Then Sir Tristram was wroth out of\nmeasure, and he rushed to Sir Palamedes and wounded him passing\nsore through the shoulder, and by fortune smote Sir Palamedes'\nsword out of his hand And if Sir Palamedes had stooped for his\nsword Sir Tristram had slain him. Then Sir Palamedes stood and\nbeheld his sword with a full sorrowful heart. \"Now,\" said Sir\nTristram, \"I have thee at a vantage, as thou hadst me to-day; but\nit shall never be said, in court, or among good knights, that Sir\nTristram did slay any knight that was weaponless; therefore take\nthou thy sword, and let us fight this battle to the end.\" Then\nspoke Sir Palamedes to Sir Tristram: \"I have no wish to fight this\nbattle any more. The offence that I have done unto you is not so\ngreat but that, if it please you, we may be friends. All that I\nhave offended is for the love of the queen, La Belle Isoude, and I\ndare maintain that she is peerless among ladies; and for that\noffence ye have given me many grievous and sad strokes, and some I\nhave given you again. Wherefore I require you, my lord Sir\nTristram, forgive me all that I have offended you, and this day\nhave me unto the next church; and first I will be clean confessed,\nand after that see you that I be truly baptized, and then we will\nride together unto the court of my lord, King Arthur, so that we\nmay be there at the feast of Pentecost.\" \"Now take your horse,\"\nsaid Sir Tristram, \"and as you have said, so shall it be done.\" So\nthey took their horses, and Sir Galleron rode with them. When they\ncame to the church of Carlisle, the bishop commanded to fill a\ngreat vessel with water; and when he had hallowed it, he then\nconfessed Sir Palamedes clean, and christened him, and Sir\nTristram and Sir Galleron were his godfathers. Then soon after\nthey departed, and rode towards Camelot, where the noble King\nArthur and Queen Guenever were keeping a court royal. And the king\nand all the court were glad that Sir Palamedes was christened.\nThen Sir Tristram returned again to La Joyeuse Garde, and Sir\nPalamedes went his way.\n\nNot long after these events Sir Gawain returned from Brittany, and\nrelated to King Arthur the adventure which befell him in the\nforest of Breciliande, how Merlin had there spoken to him, and\nenjoined him to charge the king to go without delay upon the quest\nof the Holy Greal. While King Arthur deliberated Tristram\ndetermined to enter upon the quest, and the more readily, as it\nwas well known to him that this holy adventure would, if achieved,\nprocure him the pardon of all his sins. He immediately departed\nfor the kingdom of Brittany, hoping there to obtain from Merlin\ncounsel as to the proper course to pursue to insure success.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nSIR TRISTRAM\n\n\nOn arriving in Brittany Tristram found King Hoel engaged in a war\nwith a rebellious vassal, and hard pressed by his enemy. His best\nknights had fallen in a late battle, and he knew not where to turn\nfor assistance. Tristram volunteered his aid. It was accepted; and\nthe army of Hoel, led by Tristram, and inspired by his example,\ngained a complete victory. The king, penetrated by the most lively\nsentiments of gratitude, and having informed himself of Tristram's\nbirth, offered him his daughter in marriage. The princess was\nbeautiful and accomplished, and bore the same name with the Queen\nof Cornwall; but this one is designated by the Romancers as Isoude\nof the White Hands, to distinguish her from Isoude the Fair.\n\nHow can we describe the conflict that agitated the heart of\nTristram? He adored the first Isoude, but his love for her was\nhopeless, and not unaccompanied by remorse. Moreover, the sacred\nquest on which he had now entered demanded of him perfect purity\nof life. It seemed as if a happy destiny had provided for him in\nthe charming princess Isoude of the White Hands the best security\nfor all his good resolutions. This last reflection determined him.\nThey were married, and passed some months in tranquil happiness at\nthe court of King Hoel. The pleasure which Tristram felt in his\nwife's society increased day by day. An inward grace seemed to\nstir within him from the moment when he took the oath to go on the\nquest of the Holy Greal; it seemed even to triumph over the power\nof the magic love-potion.\n\nThe war, which had been quelled for a time, now burst out anew.\nTristram as usual was foremost in every danger. The enemy was\nworsted in successive conflicts, and at last shut himself up in\nhis principal city. Tristram led on the attack of the city. As he\nmounted a ladder to scale the walls he was struck on the head by a\nfragment of rock, which the besieged threw down upon him. It bore\nhim to the ground, where he lay insensible.\n\nAs soon as he recovered consciousness he demanded to be carried to\nhis wife. The princess, skilled in the art of surgery, would not\nsuffer any one but herself to touch her beloved husband. Her fair\nhands bound up his wounds; Tristram kissed them with gratitude,\nwhich began to grow into love. At first the devoted cares of\nIsoude seemed to meet with great success; but after a while these\nflattering appearances vanished, and, in spite of all her care,\nthe malady grew more serious day by day.\n\nIn this perplexity, an old squire of Tristram's reminded his\nmaster that the princess of Ireland, afterwards queen of Cornwall,\nhad once cured him under circumstances quite as discouraging. He\ncalled Isoude of the White Hands to him, told her of his former\ncure, added that he believed that the Queen Isoude could heal him,\nand that he felt sure that she would come to his relief, if sent\nfor.\n\nIsoude of the White Hands consented that Gesnes, a trusty man and\nskilful navigator, should be sent to Cornwall. Tristram called\nhim, and, giving him a ring, \"Take this,\" he said, \"to the Queen\nof Cornwall. Tell her that Tristram, near to death, demands her\naid. If you succeed in bringing her with you, place white sails to\nyour vessel on your return, that we may know of your success when\nthe vessel first heaves in sight. But if Queen Isoude refuses, put\non black sails; they will be the presage of my impending death.\"\n\nGesnes performed his mission successfully. King Mark happened to\nbe absent from his capital, and the queen readily consented to\nreturn with the bark to Brittany. Gesnes clothed his vessel in the\nwhitest of sails, and sped his way back to Brittany.\n\nMeantime the wound of Tristram grew more desperate day by day. His\nstrength, quite prostrated, no longer permitted him to be carried\nto the seaside daily, as had been his custom from the first moment\nwhen it was possible for the bark to be on the way homeward. He\ncalled a young damsel, and gave her in charge to keep watch in the\ndirection of Cornwall, and to come and tell him the color of the\nsails of the first vessel she should see approaching.\n\nWhen Isoude of the White Hands consented that the queen of\nCornwall should be sent for, she had not known all the reasons\nwhich she had for fearing the influence which renewed intercourse\nwith that princess might have on her own happiness. She had now\nlearned more, and felt the danger more keenly. She thought, if she\ncould only keep the knowledge of the queen's arrival from her\nhusband, she might employ in his service any resources which her\nskill could supply, and still avert the dangers which she\napprehended. When the vessel was seen approaching, with its white\nsails sparkling in the sun, the damsel, by command of her\nmistress, carried word to Tristram that the sails were black.\n\nTristram, penetrated with inexpressible grief, breathed a profound\nsigh, turned away his face, and said, \"Alas, my beloved! we shall\nnever see one another again!\" Then he commended himself to God,\nand breathed his last.\n\nThe death of Tristram was the first intelligence which the queen\nof Cornwall heard on landing. She was conducted almost senseless\ninto the chamber of Tristram, and expired holding him in her arms.\n\nTristram, before his death, had requested that his body should be\nsent to Cornwall, and that his sword, with a letter he had\nwritten, should be delivered to King Mark. The remains of Tristram\nand Isoude were embarked in a vessel, along with the sword, which\nwas presented to the king of Cornwall. He was melted with\ntenderness when he saw the weapon which slew Moraunt of Ireland,--\nwhich had so often saved his life, and redeemed the honor of his\nkingdom. In the letter Tristram begged pardon of his uncle, and\nrelated the story of the amorous draught.\n\nMark ordered the lovers to be buried in his own chapel. From the\ntomb of Tristram there sprung a vine, which went along the walls,\nand descended into the grave of the queen. It was cut down three\ntimes, but each time sprung up again more vigorous than before,\nand this wonderful plant has ever since shaded the tombs of\nTristram and Isoude.\n\nSpenser introduces Sir Tristram in his \"Faery Queene.\" In Book\nVI., Canto ii., Sir Calidore encounters in the forest a young\nhunter, whom he thus describes:\n\n    \"Him steadfastly he marked, and saw to be\n    A goodly youth of amiable grace,\n    Yet but a slender slip, that scarce did see\n    Yet seventeen yeares; but tall and faire of face,\n    That sure he deemed him borne of noble race.\n    All in a woodman's jacket he was clad\n    Of Lincoln greene, belayed with silver lace;\n    And on his head an hood with aglets sprad,\n    And by his side his hunter's horne he hanging had.\n\n[Footnote: Aglets, points or tags]\n\n    \"Buskins he wore of costliest cordawayne,\n    Pinckt upon gold, and paled part per part,\n    As then the guize was for each gentle swayne.\n    In his right hand he held a trembling dart,\n    Whose fellow he before had sent apart;\n    And in his left he held a sharp bore-speare,\n    With which he wont to launch the salvage heart\n    Of many a lyon, and of many a beare,\n  That first unto his hand in chase did happen neare.\"\n\n[Footnote: PINCKT UPON GOLD, ETC., adorned with golden points, or\neyelets, and regularly intersected with stripes. PALED (in\nheraldry), striped]\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\nPERCEVAL\n\n\nThe father and two elder brothers of Perceval had fallen in battle\nor tournaments, and hence, as the last hope of his family, his\nmother retired with him into a solitary region, where he was\nbrought up in total ignorance of arms and chivalry. He was allowed\nno weapon but \"a lyttel Scots spere,\" which was the only thing of\nall \"her lordes faire gere\" that his mother carried to the wood\nwith her. In the use of this he became so skilful, that he could\nkill with it not only the animals of the chase for the table, but\neven birds on the wing. At length, however, Perceval was roused to\na desire of military renown by seeing in the forest five knights\nwho were in complete armor. He said to his mother, \"Mother, what\nare those yonder?\" \"They are angels, my son,\" said she. \"By my\nfaith, I will go and become an angel with them.\" And Perceval went\nto the road and met them. \"Tell me, good lad,\" said one of them,\n\"sawest thou a knight pass this way either today or yesterday?\" \"I\nknow not,\" said he, \"what a knight is.\" \"Such an one as I am,\"\nsaid the knight. \"If thou wilt tell me what I ask thee, I will\ntell thee what thou askest me.\" \"Gladly will I do so,\" said Sir\nOwain, for that was the knight's name. \"What is this?\" demanded\nPerceval, touching the saddle. \"It is a saddle,\" said Owain. Then\nhe asked about all the accoutrements which he saw upon the men and\nthe horses, and about the arms, and what they were for, and how\nthey were used. And Sir Owain showed him all those things fully.\nAnd Perceval in return gave him such information as he had\n\nThen Perceval returned to his mother, and said to her, \"Mother,\nthose were not angels, but honorable knights.\" Then his mother\nswooned away. And Perceval went to the place where they kept the\nhorses that carried firewood and provisions for the castle, and he\ntook a bony, piebald horse, which seemed to him the strongest of\nthem. And he pressed a pack into the form of a saddle, and with\ntwisted twigs he imitated the trappings which he had seen upon the\nhorses. When he came again to his mother, the countess had\nrecovered from her swoon. \"My son,\" said she, \"desirest thou to\nride forth?\" \"Yes, with thy leave,\" said he. \"Go forward, then,\"\nshe said, \"to the court of Arthur, where there are the best and\nthe noblest and the most bountiful of men, and tell him thou art\nPerceval, the son of Pelenore, and ask of him to bestow knighthood\non thee. And whenever thou seest a church, repeat there thy pater-\nnoster; and if thou see meat and drink, and hast need of them,\nthou mayest take them. If thou hear an outcry of one in distress,\nproceed toward it, especially if it be the cry of a woman, and\nrender her what service thou canst. If thou see a fair jewel, win\nit, for thus shalt thou acquire fame; yet freely give it to\nanother, for thus thou shalt obtain praise. If thou see a fair\nwoman, pay court to her, for thus thou wilt obtain love.\"\n\nAfter this discourse Perceval mounted the horse and taking a\nnumber of sharp-pointed sticks in his hand he rode forth. And he\nrode far in the woody wilderness without food or drink. At last he\ncame to an opening in the wood where he saw a tent, and as he\nthought it might be a church he said his pater-noster to it. And\nhe went towards it; and the door of the tent was open. And\nPerceval dismounted and entered the tent. In the tent he found a\nmaiden sitting, with a golden frontlet on her forehead and a gold\nring on her hand. And Perceval said, \"Maiden, I salute you, for my\nmother told me whenever I met a lady I must respectfully salute\nher.\" Perceiving in one corner of the tent some food, two flasks\nfull of wine, and some boar's flesh roasted, he said, \"My mother\ntold me, whenever I saw meat and drink to take it.\" And he ate\ngreedily, for he was very hungry. The maiden said, \"Sir, thou\nhadst best go quickly from here, for fear that my friends should\ncome, and evil should befall you.\" But Perceval said, \"My mother\ntold me wheresoever I saw a fair jewel to take it,\" and he took\nthe gold ring from her finger, and put it on his own; and he gave\nthe maiden his own ring in exchange for hers; then he mounted his\nhorse and rode away.\n\nPerceval journeyed on till he arrived at Arthur's court. And it so\nhappened that just at that time an uncourteous knight had offered\nQueen Guenever a gross insult. For when her page was serving the\nqueen with a golden goblet, this knight struck the arm of the page\nand dashed the wine in the queen's face and over her stomacher.\nThen he said, \"If any have boldness to avenge this insult to\nGuenever, let him follow me to the meadow.\" So the knight took his\nhorse and rode to the meadow, carrying away the golden goblet. And\nall the household hung down their heads and no one offered to\nfollow the knight to take vengeance upon him. For it seemed to\nthem that no one would have ventured on so daring an outrage\nunless he possessed such powers, through magic or charms, that\nnone could be able to punish him. Just then, behold, Perceval\nentered the hall upon the bony, piebald horse, with his uncouth\ntrappings. In the centre of the hall stood Kay the Seneschal.\n\"Tell me, tall man,\" said Perceval, \"is that Arthur yonder?\" \"What\nwouldst thou with Arthur?\" asked Kay. \"My mother told me to go to\nArthur and receive knighthood from him.\" \"By my faith,\" said he,\n\"thou art all too meanly equipped with horse and with arms.\" Then\nall the household began to jeer and laugh at him. But there was a\ncertain damsel who had been a whole year at Arthur's court, and\nhad never been known to smile. And the king's fool [Footnote: A\nfool was a common appendage of the courts of those days when this\nromance was written. A fool was the ornament held in next\nestimation to a dwarf. He wore a white dress with a yellow bonnet,\nand carried a bell or bawble in his hand. Though called a fool,\nhis words were often weighed and remembered as if there were a\nsort of oracular meaning in them.] had said that this damsel would\nnot smile till she had seen him who would be the flower of\nchivalry. Now this damsel came up to Perceval and told him,\nsmiling, that if he lived he would be one of the bravest and best\nof knights. \"Truly,\" said Kay, \"thou art ill taught to remain a\nyear at Arthur's court, with choice of society, and smile on no\none, and now before the face of Arthur and all his knights to call\nsuch a man as this the flower of knighthood;\" and he gave her a\nbox on the ear, that she fell senseless to the ground. Then said\nKay to Perceval, \"Go after the knight who went hence to the\nmeadow, overthrow him and recover the golden goblet, and possess\nthyself of his horse and arms, and thou shalt have knighthood.\" \"I\nwill do so, tall man,\" said Perceval. So he turned his horse's\nhead toward the meadow. And when he came there, the knight was\nriding up and down, proud of his strength and valor and noble\nmien. \"Tell me,\" said the knight, \"didst thou see any one coming\nafter me from the court?\" \"The tall man that was there,\" said\nPerceval, \"told me to come and overthrow thee, and to take from\nthee the goblet and thy horse and armor for myself.\" \"Silence!\"\nsaid the knight; \"go back to the court, and tell Arthur either to\ncome himself, or to send some other to fight with me; and unless\nhe do so quickly, I will not wait for him.\" \"By my faith,\" said\nPerceval, \"choose thou whether it shall be willingly or\nunwillingly, for I will have the horse and the arms and the\ngoblet.\" Upon this the knight ran at him furiously, and struck him\na violent blow with the shaft of his spear, between the neck and\nthe shoulder. \"Ha, ha, lad!\" said Perceval, \"my mother's servants\nwere not used to play with me in this wise; so thus will I play\nwith thee.\" And he threw at him one of his sharp-pointed sticks,\nand it struck him in the eye, and came out at the back of his\nhead, so that he fell down lifeless.\n\n\"Verily,\" said Sir Owain, the son of Urien, to Kay the Seneschal,\n\"thou wast ill-advised to send that madman after the knight, for\nhe must either be overthrown or flee, and either way it will be a\ndisgrace to Arthur and his warriors; therefore will I go to see\nwhat has befallen him.\" So Sir Owain went to the meadow, and he\nfound Perceval trying in vain to get the dead knight's armor off,\nin order to clothe himself with it. Sir Owain unfastened the\narmor, and helped Perceval to put it on, and taught him how to put\nhis foot in the stirrup, and use the spur; for Perceval had never\nused stirrup nor spur, but rode without saddle, and urged on his\nhorse with a stick. Then Owain would have had him return to the\ncourt to receive the praise that was his due; but Perceval said,\n\"I will not come to the court till I have encountered the tall man\nthat is there, to revenge the injury he did to the maiden. But\ntake thou the goblet to Queen Guenever, and tell King Arthur that,\nwherever I am, I will be his vassal, and will do him what profit\nand service I can.\" And Sir Owain went back to the court, and\nrelated all these things to Arthur and Guenever, and to all the\nhousehold.\n\nAnd Perceval rode forward. And he came to a lake on the side of\nwhich was a fair castle, and on the border of the lake he saw a\nhoary-headed man sitting upon a velvet cushion, and his attendants\nwere fishing in the lake. When the hoary-headed man beheld\nPerceval approaching, he arose and went into the castle. Perceval\nrode to the castle, and the door was open, and he entered the\nhall. And the hoary-headed man received Perceval courteously, and\nasked him to sit by him on the cushion. When it was time the\ntables were set, and they went to meat. And when they had finished\ntheir meat the hoary-headed man asked Perceval if he knew how to\nfight with the sword \"I know not,\" said Perceval, \"but were I to\nbe taught, doubtless I should.\" And the hoary-headed man said to\nhim, \"I am thy uncle, thy mother's brother; I am called King\nPecheur.[Footnote: The word means both FISHER and SINNER.] Thou\nshalt remain with me a space, in order to learn the manners and\ncustoms of different countries, and courtesy and noble bearing.\nAnd this do thou remember, if thou seest aught to cause thy\nwonder, ask not the meaning of it; if no one has the courtesy to\ninform thee, the reproach will not fall upon thee, but upon me\nthat am thy teacher.\" While Perceval and his uncle discoursed\ntogether, Perceval beheld two youths enter the hall bearing a\ngolden cup and a spear of mighty size, with blood dropping from\nits point to the ground. And when all the company saw this they\nbegan to weep and lament. But for all that, the man did not break\noff his discourse with Perceval. And as he did not tell him the\nmeaning of what he saw, he forebore to ask him concerning it. Now\nthe cup that Perceval saw was the Sangreal, and the spear the\nsacred spear; and afterwards King Pecheur removed with those\nsacred relics into a far country.\n\nOne evening Perceval entered a valley, and came to a hermit's\ncell; and the hermit welcomed him gladly, and there he spent the\nnight. And in the morning he arose, and when he went forth,\nbehold! a shower of snow had fallen in the night, and a hawk had\nkilled a wild-fowl in front of the cell. And the noise of the\nhorse had scared the hawk away, and a raven alighted on the bird.\nAnd Perceval stood and compared the blackness of the raven and the\nwhiteness of the snow and the redness of the blood to the hair of\nthe lady that best he loved, which was blacker than jet, and to\nher skin, which was whiter than the snow, and to the two red spots\nupon her cheeks, which were redder than the blood upon the snow.\n\nNow Arthur and his household were in search of Perceval, and by\nchance they came that way. \"Know ye,\" said Arthur, \"who is the\nknight with the long spear that stands by the brook up yonder?\"\n\"Lord,\" said one of them, \"I will go and learn who he is.\" So the\nyouth came to the place where Perceval was, and asked him what he\ndid thus, and who he was. But Perceval was so intent upon his\nthought that he gave him no answer. Then the youth thrust at\nPerceval with his lance; and Perceval turned upon him, and struck\nhim to the ground. And when the youth returned to the king, and\ntold how rudely he had been treated, Sir Kay said, \"I will go\nmyself.\" And when he greeted Perceval, and got no answer, he spoke\nto him rudely and angrily. And Perceval thrust at him with his\nlance, and cast him down so that he broke his arm and his\nshoulder-blade. And while he lay thus stunned his horse returned\nback at a wild and prancing pace.\n\nThen said Sir Gawain, surnamed the Golden-Tongued, because he was\nthe most courteous knight in Arthur's court: \"It is not fitting\nthat any should disturb an honorable knight from his thought\nunadvisedly; for either he is pondering some damage that he has\nsustained, or he is thinking of the lady whom best he loves. If it\nseem well to thee, lord, I will go and see if this knight has\nchanged from his thought, and if he has, I will ask him\ncourteously to come and visit thee.\"\n\nAnd Perceval was resting on the shaft of his spear, pondering the\nsame thought, and Sir Gawain came to him, and said: \"If I thought\nit would be as agreeable to thee as it would be to me, I would\nconverse with thee. I have also a message from Arthur unto thee,\nto pray thee to come and visit him. And two men have been before\non this errand.\" \"That is true,\" said Perceval; \"and uncourteously\nthey came. They attacked me, and I was annoyed thereat\" Then he\ntold him the thought that occupied his mind, and Gawain said,\n\"This was not an ungentle thought, and I should marvel if it were\npleasant for thee to be drawn from it.\" Then said Perceval, \"Tell\nme, is Sir Kay in Arthur's court?\" \"He is,\" said Gawain; \"and\ntruly he is the knight who fought with thee last.\" \"Verily,\" said\nPerceval, \"I am not sorry to have thus avenged the insult to the\nsmiling maiden. \"Then Perceval told him his name, and said, \"Who\nart thou?\" And he replied, \"I am Gawain.\" \"I am right glad to meet\nthee,\" said Perceval, \"for I have everywhere heard of thy prowess\nand uprightness; and I solicit thy fellowship.\" \"Thou shalt have\nit, by my faith; and grant me thine,\" said he. \"Gladly will I do\nso,\" answered Perceval.\n\nSo they went together to Arthur, and saluted him.\n\n\"Behold, lord,\" said Gawain, \"him whom thou hast sought so long.\"\n\"Welcome unto thee, chieftain,\" said Arthur. And hereupon there\ncame the queen and her handmaidens, and Perceval saluted them. And\nthey were rejoiced to see him, and bade him welcome. And Arthur\ndid him great honor and respect and they returned towards\nCaerleon.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\nTHE SANGREAL, OR HOLY GRAAL\n\n\nThe Sangreal was the cup from which our Saviour drank at his last\nsupper. He was supposed to have given it to Joseph of Arimathea,\nwho carried it to Europe, together with the spear with which the\nsoldier pierced the Saviour's side. From generation to generation,\none of the descendants of Joseph of Arimathea had been devoted to\nthe guardianship of these precious relics; but on the sole\ncondition of leading a life of purity in thought, word, and deed.\nFor a long time the Sangreal was visible to all pilgrims, and its\npresence conferred blessings upon the land in which it was\npreserved. But at length one of those holy men to whom its\nguardianship had descended so far forgot the obligation of his\nsacred office as to look with unhallowed eye upon a young female\npilgrim whose robe was accidentally loosened as she knelt before\nhim. The sacred lance instantly punished his frailty,\nspontaneously falling upon him, and inflicting a deep wound. The\nmarvellous wound could by no means be healed, and the guardian of\nthe Sangreal was ever after called \"Le Roi Pescheur,\"--The Sinner\nKing. The Sangreal withdrew its visible presence from the crowds\nwho came to worship, and an iron age succeeded to the happiness\nwhich its presence had diffused among the tribes of Britain.\n\n       \"But then the times\n    Grew to such evil that the Holy cup\n    Was caught away to heaven and disappear'd.\"\n                             --The Holy Grail.\n\nWe have told in the history of Merlin how that great prophet and\nenchanter sent a message to King Arthur by Sir Gawain, directing\nhim to undertake the recovery of the Sangreal, informing him at\nthe same time that the knight who should accomplish that sacred\nquest was already born, and of a suitable age to enter upon it.\nSir Gawain delivered his message, and the king was anxiously\nrevolving in his mind how best to achieve the enterprise, when, at\nthe vigil of Pentecost, all the fellowship of the Round Table\nbeing met together at Camelot, as they sat at meat, suddenly there\nwas heard a clap of thunder, and then a bright light burst forth,\nand every knight, as he looked on his fellow, saw him, in seeming,\nfairer than ever before. All the hall was filled with sweet odors,\nand every knight had such meat and drink as he best loved. Then\nthere entered into the hall the Holy Graal, covered with white\nsamite, so that none could see it, and it passed through the hall\nsuddenly, and disappeared. During this time no one spoke a word,\nbut when they had recovered breath to speak King Arthur said,\n\"Certainly we ought greatly to thank the Lord for what he hath\nshowed us this day.\" Then Sir Gawain rose up, and made a vow that\nfor twelve months and a day he would seek the Sangreal, and not\nreturn till he had seen it, if so he might speed. When they of the\nRound Table heard Sir Gawain say so, they arose, the most part of\nthem, and vowed the same. When King Arthur heard this, he was\ngreatly displeased, for he knew well that they might not gainsay\ntheir vows. \"Alas!\" said he to Sir Gawain, \"you have nigh slain me\nwith the vow and promise that ye have made, for ye have bereft me\nof the fairest fellowship that ever were seen together in any\nrealm of the world; for when they shall depart hence, I am sure\nthat all shall never meet more in this world.\"\n\nSIR GALAHAD\n\nAt that time there entered the hall a good old man, and with him\nhe brought a young knight, and these words he said: \"Peace be with\nyou, fair lords.\" Then the old man said unto King Arthur, \"Sir, I\nbring you here a young knight that is of kings' lineage, and of\nthe kindred of Joseph of Arimathea, being the son of Dame Elaine,\nthe daughter of King Pelles, king of the foreign country.\" Now the\nname of the young knight was Sir Galahad, and he was the son of\nSir Launcelot du Lac; but he had dwelt with his mother, at the\ncourt of King Pelles, his grandfather, till now he was old enough\nto bear arms, and his mother had sent him in the charge of a holy\nhermit to King Arthur's court. Then Sir Launcelot beheld his son,\nand had great joy of him. And Sir Bohort told his fellows, \"Upon\nmy life, this young knight shall come to great worship.\" The noise\nwas great in all the court, so that it came to the queen. And she\nsaid, \"I would fain see him, for he must needs be a noble knight,\nfor so is his father.\" And the queen and her ladies all said that\nhe resembled much unto his father; and he was seemly and demure as\na dove, with all manner of good features, that in the whole world\nmen might not find his match. And King Arthur said, \"God make him\na good man, for beauty faileth him not, as any that liveth.\"\n\nThen the hermit led the young knight to the Siege Perilous; and he\nlifted up the cloth, and found there letters that said, \"This is\nthe seat of Sir Galahad, the good knight;\" and he made him sit in\nthat seat. And all the knights of the Round Table marvelled\ngreatly at Sir Galahad, seeing him sit securely in that seat, and\nsaid, \"This is he by whom the Sangreal shall be achieved, for\nthere never sat one before in that seat without being mischieved.\"\n\nOn the next day the king said, \"Now, at this quest of the Sangreal\nshall all ye of the Round Table depart, and never shall I see you\nagain altogether; therefore I will that ye all repair to the\nmeadow of Camelot, for to just and tourney yet once more before ye\ndepart.\" But all the meaning of the king was to see Sir Galahad\nproved. So then were they all assembled in the meadow. Then Sir\nGalahad, by request of the king and queen, put on his harness and\nhis helm, but shield would he take none for any prayer of the\nking. And the queen was in a tower, with all her ladies, to behold\nthat tournament. Then Sir Galahad rode into the midst of the\nmeadow; and there he began to break spears marvellously, so that\nall men had wonder of him, for he surmounted all knights that\nencountered with him, except two, Sir Launcelot and Sir Perceval.\n\n    \"So many knights, that all the people cried,\n    And almost burst the barriers in their heat,\n    Shouting 'Sir Galahad and Sir Perceval!'\"\n\n    --Sir Galahad\n\nThen the king, at the queen's request, made him to alight, and\npresented him to the queen; and she said, \"Never two men resembled\none another more than he and Sir Launcelot, and therefore it is no\nmarvel that he is like him in prowess.\"\n\nThen the king and the queen went to the minster, and the knights\nfollowed them. And after the service was done they put on their\nhelms and departed, and there was great sorrow. They rode through\nthe streets of Camelot, and there was weeping of the rich and\npoor; and the king turned away, and might not speak for weeping.\nAnd so they departed, and every knight took the way that him best\nliked.\n\nSir Galahad rode forth without shield, and rode four days, and\nfound no adventure. And on the fourth day he came to a white\nabbey; and there he was received with great reverence, and led to\na chamber. He met there two knights, King Bagdemagus and Sir\nUwaine, and they made of him great solace. \"Sirs,\" said Sir\nGalahad, \"what adventure brought you hither?\" \"Sir,\" said they,\n\"it is told us that within this place is a shield, which no man\nmay bear unless he be worthy; and if one unworthy should attempt\nto bear it, it shall surely do him a mischief.\" Then King\nBagdemagus said, \"I fear not to bear it, and that shall ye see to-\nmorrow.\"\n\nSo on the morrow they arose, and heard mass; then King Bagdemagus\nasked where the adventurous shield was. Anon a monk led him behind\nan altar, where the shield hung, as white as snow; but in the\nmidst there was a red cross. Then King Bagdemagus took the shield,\nand bare it out of the minster; and he said to Sir Galahad, \"If it\nplease you, abide here till ye know how I shall speed.\"\n\nThen King Bagdemagus and his squire rode forth: and when they had\nridden a mile or two, they saw a goodly knight come towards them,\nin white armor, horse and all; and he came as fast as his horse\nmight run, with his spear in the rest; and King Bagdemagus\ndirected his spear against him, and broke it upon the white\nknight, but the other struck him so hard that he broke the mails,\nand thrust him through the right shoulder, for the shield covered\nhim not, and so he bare him from his horse. Then the white knight\nturned his horse and rode away.\n\nThen the squire went to King Bagdemagus, and asked him whether he\nwere sore wounded or not. \"I am sore wounded,\" said he, \"and full\nhardly shall I escape death.\" Then the squire set him on his\nhorse, and brought him to an abbey; and there he was taken down\nsoftly, and unarmed, and laid in a bed, and his wound was looked\nto, for he lay there long, and hardly escaped with his life. And\nthe squire brought the shield back to the abbey.\n\nThe next day Sir Galahad took the shield, and within a while he\ncame to the hermitage, where he met the white knight, and each\nsaluted the other courteously. \"Sir,\" said Sir Galahad, \"can you\ntell me the marvel of the shield?\" \"Sir,\" said the white knight,\n\"that shield belonged of old to the gentle knight, Joseph of\nArimathea; and when he came to die he said, 'Never shall man bear\nthis shield about his neck but he shall repent it, unto the time\nthat Sir Galahad the good knight bear it, the last of my lineage,\nthe which shall do many marvellous deeds.'\" And then the white\nknight vanished away.\n\nSIR GAWAIN\n\nAfter Sir Gawain departed, he rode many days, both toward and\nforward, and at last he came to the abbey where Sir Galahad took\nthe white shield. And they told Sir Gawain of the marvellous\nadventure that Sir Galahad had done. \"Truly,\" said Sir Gawain, \"I\nam not happy that I took not the way that he went, for, if I may\nmeet with him, I will not part from him lightly, that I may\npartake with him all the marvellous adventures which he shall\nachieve.\" \"Sir,\" said one of the monks, \"he will not be of your\nfellowship.\" \"Why?\" said Sir Gawain. \"Sir,\" said he, \"because ye\nbe sinful, and he is blissful.\" Then said the monk, \"Sir Gawain,\nthou must do penance for thy sins.\" \"Sir, what penance shall I\ndo?\" \"Such as I will show,\" said the good man. \"Nay,\" said Sir\nGawain, \"I will do no penance, for we knights adventurous often\nsuffer great woe and pain.\" \"Well,\" said the good man; and he held\nhis peace. And Sir Gawain departed.\n\nNow it happened, not long after this, that Sir Gawain and Sir\nHector rode together, and they came to a castle where was a great\ntournament. And Sir Gawain and Sir Hector joined themselves to the\nparty that seemed the weaker, and they drove before them the other\nparty. Then suddenly came into the lists a knight, bearing a white\nshield with a red cross, and by adventure he came by Sir Gawain,\nand he smote him so hard that he clave his helm and wounded his\nhead, so that Sir Gawain fell to the earth. When Sir Hector saw\nthat, he knew that the knight with the white shield was Sir\nGalahad, and he thought it no wisdom to abide him, and also for\nnatural love, that he was his uncle. Then Sir Galahad retired\nprivily, so that none knew where he had gone. And Sir Hector\nraised up Sir Gawain, and said, \"Sir, me seemeth your quest is\ndone.\" \"It is done,\" said Sir Gawain; \"I shall seek no further.\"\nThen Gawain was borne into the castle, and unarmed, and laid in a\nrich bed, and a leech found to search his wound. And Sir Gawain\nand Sir Hector abode together, for Sir Hector would not away till\nSir Gawain were whole.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX\n\nTHE SANGREAL (Continued)\n\nSIR LAUNCELOT\n\n\nSir Launcelot rode overthwart and endlong in a wide forest, and\nheld no path but as wild adventure lee him.\n\n    \"My golden spurs now bring to me,\n       And bring to me my richest mail,\n     For to-morrow I go over land and sea\n       In search of the Holy, Holy Grail\n\n    Shall never a bed for me be spread,\n    Nor shall a pillow be under my head,\n    Till I begin my vow to keep.\n    Here on the rushes will I sleep,\n    And perchance there may come a vision true\n    Ere day create the world anew\"\n\n                             --Lowell's Holy Grail.\n\nAnd at last he came to a stone cross. Then Sir Launcelot looked\nround him, and saw an old chapel. So he tied his horse to a tree,\nand put off his shield, and hung it upon a tree; and then he went\ninto the chapel, and looked through a place where the wall was\nbroken. And within he saw a fair altar, full richly arrayed with\ncloth of silk; and there stood a fair candlestick, which bare six\ngreat candles, and the candlestick was of silver. When Sir\nLauncelot saw this sight, he had a great wish to enter the chapel,\nbut he could find no place where he might enter. Then was he\npassing heavy and dismayed. And he returned and came again to his\nhorse, and took off his saddle and his bridle, and let him\npasture; and unlaced his helm, and ungirded his sword, and laid\nhim down to sleep upon his shield before the cross.\n\nAnd as he lay, half waking and half sleeping, he saw come by him\ntwo palfreys, both fair and white, which bare a litter, on which\nlay a sick knight. And when he was nigh the cross, he there abode\nstill. And Sir Launcelot heard him say, \"O sweet Lord, when shall\nthis sorrow leave me, and when shall the holy vessel come by me\nwhereby I shall be healed?\" And thus a great while complained the\nknight, and Sir Launcelot heard it. Then Sir Launcelot saw the\ncandlestick, with the lighted tapers, come before the cross, but\nhe could see nobody that brought it. Also there came a salver of\nsilver and the holy vessel of the Sangreal; and therewithal the\nsick knight sat him upright, and held up both his hands, and said,\n\"Fair, sweet Lord, which is here within the holy vessel, take heed\nto me, that I may be whole of this great malady.\" And therewith,\nupon his hands and upon his knees, he went so nigh that he touched\nthe holy vessel and kissed it. And anon he was whole. Then the\nholy vessel went into the chapel again, with the candlestick and\nthe light, so that Sir Launcelot wist not what became of it.\n\nThen the sick knight rose up and kissed the cross; and anon his\nsquire brought him his arms and asked his lord how he did. \"I\nthank God right heartily,\" said he, \"for, through the holy vessel,\nI am healed. But I have great marvel of this sleeping knight, who\nhath had neither grace nor power to awake during the time that the\nholy vessel hath been here present.\" \"I dare it right well say,\"\nsaid the squire, \"that this same knight is stained with some\nmanner of deadly sin, whereof he was never confessed.\" So they\ndeparted.\n\nThen anon Sir Launcelot waked, and set himself upright, and\nbethought him of what he had seen and whether it were dreams or\nnot. And he was passing heavy, and wist not what to do. And he\nsaid: \"My sin and my wretchedness hath brought me into great\ndishonor. For when I sought worldly adventures and worldly\ndesires, I ever achieved them, and had the better in every place,\nand never was I discomfited in any quarrel, were it right or\nwrong. And now I take upon me the adventure of holy things, I see\nand understand that mine old sin hindereth me, so that I had no\npower to stir nor to speak when the holy blood appeared before\nme.\" So thus he sorrowed till it was day, and heard the fowls of\nthe air sing. Then was he somewhat comforted.\n\nThen he departed from the cross into the forest. And there he\nfound a hermitage, and a hermit therein, who was going to mass. So\nwhen mass was done Sir Launcelot called the hermit to him, and\nprayed him for charity to hear his confession. \"With a good will,\"\nsaid the good man. And then he told that good man all his life,\nand how he had loved a queen unmeasurably many years. \"And all my\ngreat deeds of arms that I have done I did the most part for the\nqueen's sake, and for her sake would I do battle, were it right or\nwrong, and never did I battle all only for God's sake, but for to\nwin worship, and to cause me to be better beloved; and little or\nnaught I thanked God for it. I pray you counsel me.\"\n\n\"I will counsel you,\" said the hermit, \"if ye will insure me that\nye will never come in that queen's fellowship as much as ye may\nforbear.\" And then Sir Launcelot promised the hermit, by his\nfaith, that he would no more come in her company. \"Look that your\nheart and your mouth accord,\" said the good man, \"and I shall\ninsure you that ye shall have more worship than ever ye had.\"\n\nThen the good man enjoined Sir Launcelot such penance as he might\ndo, and he assailed Sir Launcelot and made him abide with him all\nthat day. And Sir Launcelot repented him greatly.\n\nSIR PERCEVAL\n\nSir Perceval departed and rode till the hour of noon; and he met\nin a valley about twenty men of arms. And when they saw Sir\nPerceval, they asked him whence he was; and he answered: \"Of the\ncourt of King Arthur.\" Then they cried all at once, \"Slay him.\"\nBut Sir Perceval smote the first to the earth, and his horse upon\nhim. Then seven of the knights smote upon his shield all at once,\nand the remnant slew his horse, so that he fell to the earth. So\nhad they slain him or taken him, had not the good knight Sir\nGalahad, with the red cross, come there by adventure. And when he\nsaw all the knights upon one, he cried out, \"Save me that knight's\nlife.\" Then he rode toward the twenty men of arms as fast as his\nhorse might drive, with his spear in the rest, and smote the\nforemost horse and man to the earth. And when his spear was\nbroken, he set his hand to his sword, and smote on the right hand\nand on the left, that it was marvel to see; and at every stroke he\nsmote down one, or put him to rebuke, so that they would fight no\nmore, but fled to a thick forest, and Sir Galahad followed them.\nAnd when Sir Perceval saw him chase them so, he made great sorrow\nthat his horse was slain. And he wist well it was Sir Galahad.\nThen he cried aloud, \"Ah, fair knight, abide, and suffer me to do\nthanks unto thee; for right well have ye done for me.\" But Sir\nGalahad rode so fast that at last he passed out of his sight. When\nSir Perceval saw that he would not turn, he said, \"Now am I a very\nwretch, and most unhappy above all other knights.\" So in his\nsorrow he abode all that day till it was night; and then he was\nfaint, and laid him down and slept till midnight; and then he\nawaked and saw before him a woman, who said unto him, \"Sir\nPerceval, what dost thou here?\" He answered, \"I do neither good,\nnor great ill.\" \"If thou wilt promise me,\" said she, \"that thou\nwilt fulfil my will when I summon thee, I will lend thee my own\nhorse, which shall bear thee whither thou wilt.\" Sir Perceval was\nglad of her proffer, and insured her to fulfil all her desire.\n\"Then abide me here, and I will go fetch you a horse.\" And so she\nsoon came again, and brought a horse with her that was inky black.\nWhen Perceval beheld that horse he marvelled, it was so great and\nso well apparelled. And he leapt upon him and took no heed of\nhimself. And he thrust him with his spurs, and within an hour and\nless he bare him four days' journey thence, until he came to a\nrough water, which roared, and his horse would have borne him into\nit. And when Sir Perceval came nigh the brim and saw the water so\nboisterous he doubted to overpass it. And then he made the sign of\nthe cross on his forehead. When the fiend felt him so charged, he\nshook off Sir Perceval, and went into the water crying and\nroaring; and it seemed unto him that the water burned. Then Sir\nPerceval perceived it was a fiend that would have brought him unto\nhis perdition. Then he commended himself unto God, and prayed our\nLord to keep him from all such temptations; and so he prayed all\nthat night till it was day. Then he saw that he was in a wild\nplace, that was closed with the sea nigh all about. And Sir\nPerceval looked forth over the sea, and saw a ship come sailing\ntowards him; and it came and stood still under the rock. And when\nSir Perceval saw this, he hied him thither, and found the ship\ncovered with silk; and therein was a lady of great beauty, and\nclothed so richly that none might be better.\n\nAnd when she saw Sir Perceval, she saluted him, and Sir Perceval\nreturned her salutation. Then he asked her of her country and her\nlineage. And she said, \"I am a gentlewoman that am disinherited,\nand was once the richest woman of the world.\" \"Damsel,\" said Sir\nPerceval, \"who hath disinherited you? for I have great pity of\nyou.\" \"Sir,\" said she, \"my enemy is a great and powerful lord, and\naforetime he made much of me, so that of his favor and of my\nbeauty I had a little pride more than I ought to have had. Also I\nsaid a word that pleased him not. So he drove me from his company\nand from mine heritage. Therefore I know no good knight nor good\nman, but I get him on my side if I may. And for that I know that\nthou art a good knight, I beseech thee to help me.\"\n\nThen Sir Perceval promised her all the help that he might, and she\nthanked him.\n\nAnd at that time the weather was hot, and she called to her a\ngentlewoman, and bade her bring forth a pavilion. And she did so,\nand pitched it upon the gravel. \"Sir,\" said she, \"now may ye rest\nyou in this heat of the day.\" Then he thanked her, and she put off\nhis helm and his shield, and there he slept a great while. Then he\nawoke, and asked her if she had any meat, and she said yea, and so\nthere was set upon the table all manner of meats that he could\nthink on. Also he drank there the strongest wine that ever he\ndrank, and therewith he was a little chafed more than he ought to\nbe. With that he beheld the lady, and he thought she was the\nfairest creature that ever he saw. And then Sir Perceval proffered\nher love, and prayed her that she would be his. Then she refused\nhim in a manner, for the cause he should be the more ardent on\nher, and ever he ceased not to pray her of love. And when she saw\nhim well enchafed, then she said, \"Sir Perceval, wit you well I\nshall not give ye my love, unless you swear from henceforth you\nwill be my true servant, and do no thing but that I shall command\nyou. Will you insure me this, as ye be a true knight?\" \"Yea,\" said\nhe, \"fair lady, by the faith of my body.\" And as he said this, by\nadventure and grace, he saw his sword lie on the ground naked, in\nwhose pommel was a red cross, and the sign of the crucifix\nthereon. Then he made the sign of the cross on his forehead, and\ntherewith the pavilion shrivelled up, and changed into a smoke and\na black cloud. And the damsel cried aloud, and hasted into the\nship, and so she went with the wind roaring and yelling that it\nseemed all the water burned after her. Then Sir Perceval made\ngreat sorrow, and called himself a wretch, saying, \"How nigh was I\nlost!\" Then he took his arms, and departed thence.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI\n\nTHE SANGREAL (Continued)\n\nSIR BOHORT\n\n\nWhen Sir Boliort departed from Camelot he met with a religious\nman, riding upon an ass; and Sir Bohort saluted him. \"What are\nye?\" said the good man. \"Sir,\" said Sir Bohort, \"I am a knight\nthat fain would be counselled in the quest of the Sangreal.\" So\nrode they both together till they came to a hermitage; and there\nhe prayed Sir Bohort to dwell that night with him. So he alighted,\nand put away his armor, and prayed him that he might be confessed.\nAnd they went both into the chapel, and there he was clean\nconfessed. And they ate bread and drank water together. \"Now,\"\nsaid the good man, \"I pray thee that thou eat none other till thou\nsit at the table where the Sangreal shall be.\" \"Sir,\" said Sir\nBohort, \"but how know ye that I shall sit there?\" \"Yea,\" said the\ngood man, \"that I know well; but there shall be few of your\nfellows with you.\" Then said Sir Bohort, \"I agree me thereto\" And\nthe good man when he had heard his confession found him in so pure\na life and so stable that he marvelled thereof.\n\nOn the morrow, as soon as the day appeared, Sir Bohort departed\nthence, and rode into a forest unto the hour of midday. And there\nbefell him a marvellous adventure. For he met, at the parting of\ntwo ways, two knights that led Sir Lionel, his brother, all naked,\nbound upon a strong hackney, and his hands bound before his\nbreast; and each of them held in his hand thorns wherewith they\nwent beating him, so that he was all bloody before and behind; but\nhe said never a word, but, as he was great of heart, he suffered\nall that they did to him as though he had felt none anguish. Sir\nBohort prepared to rescue his brother. But he looked on the other\nside of him, and saw a knight dragging along a fair gentlewoman,\nwho cried out, \"Saint Mary! succor your maid!\" And when she saw\nSir Bohort, she called to him, and said, \"By the faith that ye owe\nto knighthood, help me!\" When Sir Bohort heard her say thus he had\nsuch sorrow that he wist not what to do. \"For if I let my brother\nbe he must be slain, and that would I not for all the earth; and\nif I help not the maid I am shamed for ever.\" Then lift he up his\neyes and said, weeping, \"Fair Lord, whose liegeman I am, keep Sir\nLionel, my brother, that none of these knights slay him, and for\npity of you, and our Lady's sake, I shall succor this maid.\"\n\nThen he cried out to the knight, \"Sir knight, lay your hand off\nthat maid, or else ye be but dead.\" Then the knight set down the\nmaid, and took his shield, and drew out his sword. And Sir Bohort\nsmote him so hard that it went through his shield and habergeon,\non the left shoulder, and he fell down to the earth. Then came Sir\nBohort to the maid, \"Ye be delivered of this knight this time.\"\n\"Now,\" said she, \"I pray you lead me there where this knight took\nme.\" \"I shall gladly do it,\" said Sir Bohort. So he took the horse\nof the wounded knight, and set the gentlewoman upon it, and\nbrought her there where she desired to be. And there he found\ntwelve knights seeking after her; and when she told them how Sir\nBohort had delivered her, they made great joy, and besought him to\ncome to her father, a great lord, and he should be right welcomed.\n\"Truly,\" said Sir Bohort, \"that may not be; for I have a great\nadventure to do.\" So he commended them to God and departed.\n\nThen Sir Bohort rode after Sir Lionel, his brother, by the trace\nof their horses. Thus he rode seeking, a great while. Then he\novertook a man clothed in a religious clothing, who said, \"Sir\nKnight, what seek ye?\" \"Sir,\" said Sir Bohort, \"I seek my brother,\nthat I saw within a little space beaten of two knights.\" \"Ah, Sir\nBohort, tiouble not thyself to seek for him, for truly he is\ndead.\" Then he showed him a new-slain body, lying in a thick bush;\nand it seemed him that it was the body of Sir Lionel. And then he\nmade such sorrow that he fell to the ground in a swoon, and lay\nthere long. And when he came to himself again, he said, \"Fair\nbrother, since the fellowship of you and me is sundered, shall I\nnever have joy again; and now He that I have taken for my Master,\nHe be my help!\" And when he had said thus he took up the body in\nhis arms, and put it upon the horse. And then he said to the man,\n\"Canst thou tell me the way to some chapel, where I may bury this\nbody?\" \"Come on,\" said the man, \"here is one fast by.\" And so they\nrode till they saw a fair tower, and beside it a chapel. Then they\nalighted both, and put the body into a tomb of marble.\n\nThen Sir Bohort commended the good man unto God, and departed. And\nhe rode all that day, and harbored with an old lady. And on the\nmorrow he rode unto the castle in a valley, and there he met with\na yeoman. \"Tell me,\" said Sir Bohort, \"knowest thou of any\nadventure?\" \"Sir,\" said he, \"here shall be, under this castle, a\ngreat and marvellous tournament.\" Then Sir Bohort thought to be\nthere, if he might meet with any of the fellowship that were in\nquest of the Sangreal; so he turned to a hermitage that was on the\nborder of the forest. And when he was come hither, he found there\nSir Lionel his brother, who sat all armed at the entry of the\nchapel door. And when Sir Bohort saw him, he had great joy, and he\nalighted off his horse, and said. \"Fair brother, when came ye\nhither?\" As soon as Sir Lionel saw him he said, \"Ah, Sir Bohort,\nmake ye no false show, for, as for you, I might have been slain,\nfor ye left me in peril of death to go succor a gentlewoman; and\nfor that misdeed I now assure you but death, for ye have right\nwell deserved it.\" When Sir Bohort perceived his brother's wrath\nhe kneeled down to the earth and cried him mercy, holding up both\nhis hands, and prayed him to forgive him. \"Nay,\" said Sir Lionel,\n\"thou shalt have but death for it, if I have the upper hand;\ntherefore leap upon thy horse and keep thyself, and if thou do not\nI will run upon thee there as thou standest on foot, and so the\nshame shall be mine, and the harm thine, but of that I reck not.\"\nWhen Sir Bohort saw that he must fight with his brother or else\ndie, he wist not what to do. Then his heart counselled him not so\nto do, inasmuch as Sir Lionel was his elder brother, wherefore he\nought to bear him reverence. Yet kneeled he down before Sir\nLionel's horse's feet, and said, \"Fair brother, have mercy upon me\nand slay me not.\" But Sir Lionel cared not, for the fiend had\nbrought him in such a will that he should slay him. When he saw\nthat Sir Bohort would not rise to give him battle, he rushed over\nhim, so that he smote him with his horse's feet to the earth, and\nhurt him sore, that he swooned of distress. When Sir Lionel saw\nthis he alighted from his horse for to have smitten off his head;\nand so he took him by the helm, and would have rent it from his\nhead. But it happened that Sir Colgrevance, a knight of the Round\nTable, came at that time thither, as it was our Lord's will; and\nthen he beheld how Sir Lionel would have slain his brother, and he\nknew Sir Bohort, whom he loved right well.\n\nThen leapt he down from his horse and took Sir Lionel by the\nshoulders, and drew him strongly back from Sir Bohort, and said,\n\"Sir Lionel, will ye slay your brother?\" \"Why,\" said Sir Lionel,\n\"will ye stay me? If ye interfere in this I will slay you, and him\nafter.\" Then he ran upon Sir Bohort, and would have smitten him;\nbut Sir Colgrevance ran between them, and said, \"If ye persist to\ndo so any more, we two shall meddle together.\" Then Sir Lionel\ndefied him, and gave him a great stroke through the helm. Then he\ndrew his sword, for he was a passing good knight, and defended\nhimself right manfully. So long endured the battle, that Sir\nBohort rose up all anguishly, and beheld Sir Colgrevance, the good\nknight, fight with his brother for his quarrel. Then was he full\nsorry and heavy, and thought that if Sir Colgrevance slew him that\nwas his brother he should never have joy, and if his brother slew\nSir Colgrevance the shame should ever be his.\n\nThen would he have risen for to have parted them, but he had not\nso much strength to stand on his feet; so he staid so long that\nSir Colgrevance had the worse; for Sir Lionel was of great\nchivalry and right hardy. Then cried Sir Colgrevance, \"Ah, Sir\nBohort, why come ye not to bring me out of peril of death, wherein\nI have put me to succor you?\" With that, Sir Lionel smote off his\nhelm and bore him to the earth. And when he had slain Sir\nColgrevance he ran upon his brother as a fiendly man, and gave him\nsuch a stroke that he made him stoop. And he that was full of\nhumility prayed him, \"for God's sake leave this battle, for if it\nbefell, fair brother, that I slew you, or ye me, we should be dead\nof that sin.\" \"Pray ye not me for mercy,\" said Sir Lionel. Then\nSir Bohort, all weeping, drew his sword, and said, \"Now God have\nmercy upon me, though I defend my life against my brother.\" With\nthat Sir Bohort lifted up his sword, and would have smitten his\nbrother. Then he heard a voice that said, \"Flee, Sir Bohort, and\ntouch him not.\" Right so alighted a cloud between them, in the\nlikeness of a fire and a marvellous flame, so that they both fell\nto the earth, and lay there a great while in a swoon. And when\nthey came to themselves, Sir Bohort saw that his brother had no\nharm; and he was right glad, for he dread sore that God had taken\nvengeance upon him. Then Sir Lionel said to his brother, \"Brother,\nforgive me, for God's sake, all that I have trespassed against\nyou.\" And Sir Bohort answered, \"God forgive it thee, and I do.\"\n\nWith that Sir Bohort heard a voice say, \"Sir Bohort, take thy way\nanon, right to the sea, for Sir Perceval abideth thee there.\" So\nSir Bohort departed, and rode the nearest way to the sea. And at\nlast he came to an abbey that was nigh the sea. That night he\nrested him there, and in his sleep there came a voice unto him and\nbade him go to the sea-shore. He started up, and made a sign of\nthe cross on his forehead, and armed himself, and made ready his\nhorse and mounted him, and at a broken wall he rode out, and came\nto the sea-shore. And there he found a ship, covered all with\nwhite samite. And he entered into the ship; but it was anon so\ndark that he might see no man, and he laid him down and slept till\nit was day. Then he awaked, and saw in the middle of the ship a\nknight all armed, save his helm. And then he knew it was Sir\nPerceval de Galis, and each made of other right great joy. Then\nsaid Sir Perceval, \"We lack nothing now but the good knight Sir\nGalahad.\"\n\nSIR LAUNCELOT (Resumed)\n\nIt befell upon a night Sir Launcelot arrived before a castle,\nwhich was rich and fair. And there was a postern that was opened\ntoward the sea, and was open without any keeping, save two lions\nkept the entry; and the moon shined clear. Anon Sir Launcelot\nheard a voice that said, \"Launcelot, enter into the castle, where\nthou shalt see a great part of thy desire.\" So he went unto the\ngate, and saw the two lions; then he set hands to his sword, and\ndrew it. Then there came suddenly as it were a stroke upon the\narm, so sore that the sword fell out of his hand, and he heard a\nvoice that said, \"O man of evil faith, wherefore believest thou\nmore in thy armor than in thy Maker?\" Then said Sir Launcelot,\n\"Fair Lord, I thank thee of thy great mercy, that thou reprovest\nme of my misdeed; now see I well that thou holdest me for thy\nservant.\" Then he made a cross on his forehead, and came to the\nlions; and they made semblance to do him harm, but he passed them\nwithout hurt, and entered into the castle, and he found no gate\nnor door but it was open. But at the last he found a chamber\nwhereof the door was shut; and he set his hand thereto, to have\nopened it, but he might not. Then he listened, and heard a voice\nwhich sung so sweetly that it seemed none earthly thing; and the\nvoice said, \"Joy and honor be to the Father of heaven.\" Then Sir\nLauncelot kneeled down before the chamber, for well he wist that\nthere was the Sangreal in that chamber. Then said he, \"Fair, sweet\nLord, if ever I did anything that pleased thee, for thy pity show\nme something of that which I seek.\" And with that he saw the\nchamber door open, and there came out a great clearness, that the\nhouse was as bright as though all the torches of the world had\nbeen there. So he came to the chamber door, and would have\nentered; and anon a voice said unto him, \"Stay, Sir Launcelot, and\nenter not.\" And he withdrew him back, and was right heavy in his\nmind. Then looked he in the midst of the chamber, and saw a table\nof silver, and the holy vessel, covered with red samite, and many\nangels about it; whereof one held a candle of wax burning, and\nanother held a cross, and the ornaments of the altar.\n\n    \"O, yet methought I saw the Holy Grail,\n    All pall'd in crimson samite, and around\n    Great angels, awful shapes, and wings and eyes\"\n\n                                      --The Holy Grail.\n\nThen for very wonder and thankfulness Sir Launcelot forgot himself\nand he stepped forward and entered the chamber. And suddenly a\nbreath that seemed intermixed with fire smote him so sore in the\nvisage that therewith he fell to the ground, and had no power to\nrise. Then felt he many hands about him, which took him up and\nbare him out of the chamber, without any amending of his swoon,\nand left him there, seeming dead to all the people. So on the\nmorrow, when it was fair daylight, and they within were arisen,\nthey found Sir Launcelot lying before the chamber door. And they\nlooked upon him and felt his pulse, to know if there were any life\nin him. And they found life in him, but he might neither stand nor\nstir any member that he had. So they took him and bare him into a\nchamber, and laid him upon a bed, far from all folk, and there he\nlay many days. Then the one said he was alive, and the others said\nnay. But said an old man, \"He is as full of life as the mightiest\nof you all, and therefore I counsel you that he be well kept till\nGod bring him back again.\" And after twenty-four days he opened\nhis eyes; and when he saw folk he made great sorrow, and said,\n\"Why have ye wakened me? for I was better at ease than I am now.\"\n\"What have ye seen?\" said they about him. \"I have seen,\" said he,\n\"great marvels that no tongue can tell, and more than any heart\ncan think.\" Then they said, \"Sir, the quest of the Sangreal is\nachieved right now in you, and never shall ye see more of it than\nye have seen.\" \"I thank God,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"of his great\nmercy, for that I have seen, for it sufficeth me.\" Then he rose up\nand clothed himself; and when he was so arrayed they marvelled\nall, for they knew it was Sir Launcelot the good knight. And after\nfour days he took his leave of the lord of the castle, and of all\nthe fellowship that were there, and thanked them for their great\nlabor and care of him. Then he departed, and turned to Camelot,\nwhere he found King Arthur and Queen Guenever; but many of the\nknights of the Round Table were slain and destroyed, more than\nhalf. Then all the court was passing glad of Sir Launcelot; and he\ntold the king all his adventures that had befallen him since he\ndeparted.\n\nSIR GALAHAD\n\nNow, when Sir Galahad had rescued Perceval from the twenty\nknights, he rode into a vast forest, wherein he abode many days.\nThen he took his way to the sea, and it befell him that he was\nbenighted in a hermitage. And the good man was glad when he saw he\nwas a knight-errant. And when they were at rest, there came a\ngentlewoman knocking at the door; and the good man came to the\ndoor to wit what she would. Then she said, \"I would speak with the\nknight which is with you.\" Then Galahad went to her, and asked her\nwhat she would. \"Sir Galahad,\" said she, \"I will that ye arm you,\nand mount upon your horse, and follow me; for I will show you the\nhighest adventure that ever knight saw.\" Then Galahad armed\nhimself and commended himself to God, and bade the damsel go\nbefore, and he would follow where she led.\n\nSo she rode as fast as her palfrey might bear her, till she came\nto the sea; and there they found the ship where Sir Bohort and Sir\nPerceval were, who cried from the ship, \"Sir Galahad, you are\nwelcome; we have waited you long.\" And when he heard them, he\nasked the damsel who they were. \"Sir,\" said she, \"leave your horse\nhere, and I shall leave mine, and we will join ourselves to their\ncompany.\" So they entered into the ship, and the two knights\nreceived them both with great joy. For they knew the damsel, that\nshe was Sir Perceval's sister. Then the wind arose and drove them\nthrough the sea all that day and the next, till the ship arrived\nbetween two rocks, passing great and marvellous; but there they\nmight not land, for there was a whirlpool; but there was another\nship, and upon it they might go without danger. \"Go we thither,\"\nsaid the gentlewoman, \"and there we shall see adventures, for such\nis our Lord's will.\" Then Sir Galahad blessed him, and entered\ntherein, and then next the gentlewoman, and then Sir Bohort and\nSir Perceval. And when they came on board they found there the\ntable of silver, and the Sangreal, which was covered with red\nsamite. And they made great reverence thereto, and Sir Galahad\nprayed a long time to our Lord, that at what time he should ask to\npass out of this world he should do so; and a voice said to him,\n\"Galahad, thou shalt have thy request; and when thou askest the\ndeath of thy body, thou shalt have it, and then shalt thou find\nthe life of thy soul.\"\n\nAnd anon the wind drove them across the sea, till they came to the\ncity of Sarras. Then took they out of the ship the table of\nsilver, and Sir Perceval and Sir Bohort took it before, and Sir\nGalahad came behind, and right so they went to the city. And at\nthe gate of the city they saw an old man, a cripple.\n\n    \"And Sir Launfal said, 'I behold in thee\n    An image of Him who died on the tree\n    Thou also hast had thy crown of thorns,\n    Thou also hast had the world's buffets and scorns;\n    And to thy life were not denied\n    The wounds in thy hands and feet and side\n    Mild Mary's son, acknowledge me;\n    Behold, through Him I give to thee!'\"\n\n                                 --Lowell's Holy Grail.\n\nThen Galahad called him, and bade him help to bear this heavy\nthing. \"Truly,\" said the old man, \"it is ten years since I could\nnot go but with crutches.\" \"Care thou not,\" said Sir Galahad, \"but\narise up, and show thy good will.\" Then the old man rose up, and\nassayed, and found himself as whole as ever he was; and he ran to\nthe table, and took one part with Sir Galahad.\n\nWhen they came to the city it chanced that the king was just dead,\nand all the city was dismayed, and wist not who might be their\nking. Right so, as they were in counsel, there came a voice among\nthem, and bade them choose the youngest knight of those three to\nbe their king. So they made Sir Galahad king, by all the assent of\nthe city. And when he was made king, he commanded to make a chest\nof gold and of precious stones to hold the holy vessel. And every\nday the three companions would come before it and make their\nprayers.\n\nNow at the year's end, and the same day of the year that Sir\nGalahad received the crown, he got up early, and, with his\nfellows, came to where the holy vessel was; and they saw one\nkneeling before it that had about him a great fellowship of\nangels; and he called Sir Galahad, and said, \"Come, thou servant\nof the Lord, and thou shalt see what thou hast much desired to\nsee.\" And Sir Galahad's mortal flesh trembled right hard when he\nbegan to behold the spiritual things. Then said the good man, \"Now\nwottest thou who I am?\" \"Nay,\" said Sir Galahad. \"I am Joseph of\nArimathea, whom our Lord hath sent here to thee, to bear thee\nfellowship.\" Then Sir Galahad held up his hands toward heaven, and\nsaid, \"Now, blessed Lord, would I not longer live, if it might\nplease thee.\" And when he had said these words, Sir Galahad went\nto Sir Perceval and to Sir Bohort and kissed them, and commended\nthem to God. And then he kneeled down before the table, and made\nhis prayers, and suddenly his soul departed, and a great multitude\nof angels bare his soul up to heaven, so as the two fellows could\nwell behold it. Also they saw come from heaven a hand, but they\nsaw not the body; and the hand came right to the vessel and bare\nit up to heaven. Since then was there never one so hardy as to say\nthat he had seen the Sangreal on earth any more.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII\n\nSIR AGRIVAIN'S TREASON\n\n\nWhen Sir Perceval and Sir Bohort saw Sir Galahad dead they made as\nmuch sorrow as ever did two men. And if they had not been good men\nthey might have fallen into despair. As soon as Sir Galahad was\nburied Sir Perceval retired to a hermitage out of the city, and\ntook a religious clothing; and Sir Bohort was always with him, but\ndid not change his secular clothing, because he purposed to return\nto the realm of Loegria. Thus a year and two months lived Sir\nPerceval in the hermitage a full holy life, and then passed out of\nthis world, and Sir Bohort buried him by his sister and Sir\nGalahad. Then Sir Bohort armed himself and departed from Sarras,\nand entered into a ship, and sailed to the kingdom of Loegria, and\nin due time arrived safe at Camelot, where the king was. Then was\nthere great joy made of him in the whole court, for they feared he\nhad been dead. Then the king made great clerks to come before him,\nthat they should chronicle of the high adventures of the good\nknights. And Sir Bohort told him of the adventures that had\nbefallen him, and his two fellows, Sir Perceval and Sir Galahad.\nAnd Sir Launcelot told the adventures of the Sangreal that he had\nseen. All this was made in great books, and put up in the church\nat Salisbury.\n\nSo King Arthur and Queen Guenever made great joy of the remnant\nthat were come home, and chiefly of Sir Launcelot and Sir Bohort.\nThen Sir Launcelot began to resort unto Queen Guenever again, and\nforgot the promise that he made in the quest: so that many in the\ncourt spoke of it, and in especial Sir Agrivain, Sir Gawain's\nbrother, for he was ever open-mouthed. So it happened Sir Gawain\nand all his brothers were in King Arthur's chamber, and then Sir\nAgrivain said thus openly, \"I marvel that we all are not ashamed\nto see and to know so noble a knight as King Arthur so to be\nshamed by the conduct of Sir Launcelot and the queen. \"Then spoke\nSir Gawain, and said, \"Brother, Sir Agrivain, I pray you and\ncharge you move not such matters any more before me, for be ye\nassured I will not be of your counsel.\" \"Neither will we,\" said\nSir Gaheris and Sir Gareth. \"Then will I,\" said Sir Modred. \"I\ndoubt you not,\" said Sir Gawain, \"for to all mischief ever were ye\nprone; yet I would that ye left all this, for I know what will\ncome of it.\"\n\n            \"Modred's narrow foxy face,\n    Heart-hiding smile, and gray persistent eye:\n    Henceforward, too, the Powers that tend the soul\n    To help it from the death that cannot die,\n    And save it even in extremes, began\n    To vex and plague.\"\n\n                                --Guinevere.\n\n\"Fall of it what fall may,\" said Sir Agrivain, \"I will disclose it\nto the king.\" With that came to them King Arthur. \"Now, brothers,\nhold your peace,\" said Sir Gawain. \"We will not,\" said Sir\nAgrivain. Then said Sir Gawain, \"I will not hear your tales nor be\nof your counsel.\" \"No more will I,\" said Sir Gareth and Sir\nGaheris, and therewith they departed, making great sorrow.\n\nThen Sir Agrivain told the king all that was said in the court of\nthe conduct of Sir Launcelot and the queen, and it grieved the\nking very much. But he would not believe it to be true without\nproof. So Sir Agrivain laid a plot to entrap Sir Launcelot and the\nqueen, intending to take them together unawares. Sir Agrivain and\nSir Modred led a party for this purpose, but Sir Launcelot escaped\nfrom them, having slain Sir Agrivain and wounded Sir Modred. Then\nSir Launcelot hastened to his friends, and told them what had\nhappened, and withdrew with them to the forest; but he left spies\nto bring him tidings of whatever might be done.\n\nSo Sir Launcelot escaped, but the queen remained in the king's\npower, and Arthur could no longer doubt of her guilt. And the law\nwas such in those days that they who committed such crimes, of\nwhat estate or condition soever they were, must be burned to\ndeath, and so it was ordained for Queen Guenever. Then said King\nArthur to Sir Gawain, \"I pray you make you ready, in your best\narmor, with your brethren, Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth, to bring my\nqueen to the fire, there to receive her death.\" \"Nay, my most\nnoble lord,\" said Sir Gawain, \"that will I never do; for know thou\nwell, my heart will never serve me to see her die, and it shall\nnever be said that I was of your counsel in her death.\" Then the\nking commanded Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth to be there, and they\nsaid, \"We will be there, as ye command us, sire, but in peaceable\nwise, and bear no armor upon us.\"\n\nSo the queen was led forth, and her ghostly father was brought to\nher to shrive her, and there was weeping and wailing of many lords\nand ladies. And one went and told Sir Launcelot that the queen was\nled forth to her death. Then Sir Launcelot and the knights that\nwere with him fell upon the troop that guarded the queen, and\ndispersed them, and slew all who withstood them. And in the\nconfusion Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris were slain, for they were\nunarmed and defenceless. And Sir Launcelot carried away the queen\nto his castle of La Joyeuse Garde.\n\nThen there came one to Sir Gawain and told him how that Sir\nLauncelot had slain the knights and carried away the queen. \"O\nLord, defend my brethren!\" said Sir Gawain. \"Truly,\" said the man,\n\"Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris are slain.\" \"Alas!\" said Sir Gawain,\n\"now is my joy gone.\" And then he fell down and swooned, and long\nhe lay there as he had been dead.\n\nWhen he arose out of his swoon Sir Gawain ran to the king, crying,\n\"O King Arthur, mine uncle, my brothers are slain.\" Then the king\nwept and he both. \"My king, my lord, and mine uncle,\" said Sir\nGawain, \"bear witness now that I make you a promise that I shall\nhold by my knighthood, and from this day I will never fail Sir\nLauncelot until the one of us have slain the other. I will seek\nSir Launcelot throughout seven kings' realms, but I shall slay him\nor he shall slay me.\" \"Ye shall not need to seek him,\" said the\nking, \"for as I hear, Sir Launcelot will abide me and you in the\nJoyeuse Garde; and much people draweth unto him, as I hear say.\"\n\"That may I believe,\" said Sir Gawain; \"but, my lord, summon your\nfriends, and I will summon mine.\" \"It shall be done,\" said the\nking. So then the king sent letters and writs throughout all\nEngland, both in the length and breadth, to summon all his\nknights. And unto Arthur drew many knights, dukes, and earls, so\nthat he had a great host. Thereof heard Sir Launcelot, and\ncollected all whom he could; and many good knights held with him,\nboth for his sake and for the queen's sake. But King Arthur's host\nwas too great for Sir Launcelot to abide him in the field; and he\nwas full loath to do battle against the king. So Sir Launcelot\ndrew him to his strong castle, with all manner of provisions. Then\ncame King Arthur with Sir Gawain, and laid siege all about La\nJoyeuse Garde, both the town and the castle; but in no wise would\nSir Launcelot ride out of his castle, neither suffer any of his\nknights to issue out, until many weeks were past.\n\nThen it befell upon a day in harvest-time, Sir Launcelot looked\nover the wall, and spoke aloud to King Arthur and Sir Gawain, \"My\nlords both, all is in vain that ye do at this siege, for here ye\nshall win no worship, but only dishonor; for if I list to come\nout, and my good knights, I shall soon make an end of this war.\"\n\"Come forth,\" said Arthur, \"if thou darest, and I promise thee I\nshall meet thee in the midst of the field.\" \"God forbid me,\" said\nSir Launcelot, \"that I should encounter with the most noble king\nthat made me knight.\" \"Fie upon thy fair language,\" said the king,\n\"for know thou well I am thy mortal foe, and ever will be to my\ndying day.\" And Sir Gawain said, \"What cause hadst thou to slay my\nbrother, Sir Gaheris, who bore no arms against thee, and Sir\nGareth, whom thou madest knight, and who loved thee more than all\nmy kin? Therefore know thou well I shall make war to thee all the\nwhile that I may live.\"\n\nWhen Sir Bohort, and Sir Hector de Marys, and Sir Lionel heard\nthis outcry, they called to them Sir Palamedes, and Sir Saffire\nhis brother, and Sir Lawayn, with many more, and all went to Sir\nLauncelot. And they said, \"My lord, Sir Launcelot, we pray you, if\nyou will have our service keep us no longer within these walls,\nfor know well all your fair speech and forbearance will not avail\nyou.\" \"Alas!\" said Sir Launcelot, \"to ride forth and to do battle\nI am full loath.\" Then he spake again unto the king and Sir\nGawain, and willed them to keep out of the battle; but they\ndespised his words. So then Sir Launcelot's fellowship came out of\nthe castle in full good array. And always Sir Launcelot charged\nall his knights, in any wise, to save King Arthur and Sir Gawain.\n\nThen came forth Sir Gawain from the king's host and offered\ncombat, and Sir Lionel encountered with him, and there Sir Gawain\nsmote Sir Lionel through the body, that he fell to the earth as if\ndead. Then there began a great conflict, and much people were\nslain; but ever Sir Launcelot did what he might to save the people\non King Arthur's party, and ever King Arthur followed Sir\nLauncelot to slay him; but Sir Launcelot suffered him, and would\nnot strike again. Then Sir Bohort encountered with King Arthur,\nand smote him down; and he alighted and drew his sword, and said\nto Sir Launcelot, \"Shall I make an end of this war?\" for he meant\nto have slain King Arthur. \"Not so,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"touch\nhim no more, for I will never see that most noble king that made\nme knight either slain or shamed;\" and therewith Sir Launcelot\nalighted off his horse, and took up the king, and horsed him\nagain, and said thus: \"My lord Arthur, for God's love, cease this\nstrife.\" And King Arthur looked upon Sir Launcelot, and the tears\nburst from his eyes, thinking on the great courtesy that was in\nSir Launcelot more than in any other man; and therewith the king\nrode his way. Then anon both parties withdrew to repose them, and\nburied the dead.\n\nBut the war continued, and it was noised abroad through all\nChristendom, and at last it was told afore the pope; and he,\nconsidering the great goodness of King Arthur, and of Sir\nLauncelot, called unto him a noble clerk, which was the Bishop of\nRochester, who was then in his dominions, and sent him to King\nArthur, charging him that he take his queen, dame Guenever, unto\nhim again, and make peace with Sir Launcelot.\n\nSo, by means of this bishop, peace was made for the space of one\nyear; and King Arthur received back the queen, and Sir Launcelot\ndeparted from the kingdom with all his knights, and went to his\nown country. So they shipped at Cardiff, and sailed unto Benwick,\nwhich some men call Bayonne. And all the people of those lands\ncame to Sir Launcelot, and received him home right joyfully. And\nSir Launcelot stablished and garnished all his towns and castles,\nand he greatly advanced all his noble knights, Sir Lionel and Sir\nBohort, and Sir Hector de Marys, Sir Blamor, Sir Lawayne, and many\nothers, and made them lords of lands and castles; till he left\nhimself no more than any one of them.\n\n      \"Then Arthur made vast banquets, and strange knights\n    From the four winds came in: and each one sat,\n    Tho' served with choice from air, land, stream and sea,\n    Oft in mid-banquet measuring with his eyes\n    His neighbor's make and might.\"\n\n                                    --Pelleas and Ettarre.\n\nBut when the year was passed, King Arthur and Sir Gawain came with\na great host, and landed upon Sir Launcelot's lands, and burned\nand wasted all that they might overrun. Then spake Sir Bohort and\nsaid, \"My lord, Sir Launcelot, give us leave to meet them in the\nfield, and we shall make them rue the time that ever they came to\nthis country.\" Then said Sir Launcelot, \"I am full loath to ride\nout with my knights for shedding of Christian blood; so we will\nyet a while keep our walls, and I will send a messenger unto my\nlord Arthur, to propose a treaty; for better is peace than always\nwar.\" So Sir Launcelot sent forth a damsel, and a dwarf with her,\nrequiring King Arthur to leave his warring upon his lands; and so\nshe started on a palfrey, and the dwarf ran by her side. And when\nshe came to the pavilion of King Arthur, she alighted, and there\nmet her a gentle knight, Sir Lucan, the butler, and said, \"Fair\ndamsel, come ye from Sir Launcelot du Lac?\" \"Yea, sir,\" she said,\n\"I come hither to speak with the king.\" \"Alas!\" said Sir Lucan,\n\"my lord Arthur would be reconciled to Sir Launcelot, but Sir\nGawain will not suffer him.\" And with this Sir Lucan led the\ndamsel to the king, where he sat with Sir Gawain, to hear what she\nwould say. So when she had told her tale, the tears ran out of the\nking's eyes; and all the lords were forward to advise the king to\nbe accorded with Sir Launcelot, save only Sir Gawain; and he said,\n\"My lord, mine uncle, what will ye do? Will you now turn back, now\nyou are so far advanced upon your journey? If ye do all the world\nwill speak shame of you.\" \"Nay,\" said King Arthur, \"I will do as\nye advise me; but do thou give the damsel her answer, for I may\nnot speak to her for pity.\"\n\nThen said Sir Gawain, \"Damsel, say ye to Sir Launcelot, that it is\nwaste labor to sue to mine uncle for peace, and say that I, Sir\nGawain, send him word that I promise him, by the faith I owe unto\nGod and to knighthood, I shall never leave him till he have slain\nme or I him.\" So the damsel returned; and when Sir Launcelot had\nheard this answer the tears ran down his cheeks.\n\nThen it befell on a day Sir Gawain came before the gates, armed at\nall points, and cried with a loud voice, \"Where art thou now, thou\nfalse traitor, Sir Launcelot? Why hidest thou thyself within holes\nand walls like a coward? Look out now, thou traitor knight, and I\nwill avenge upon thy body the death of my three brethren.\" All\nthis language heard Sir Launcelot, and the knights which were\nabout him; and they said to him, \"Sir Launcelot, now must ye\ndefend you like a knight, or else be shamed for ever, for you have\nslept overlong and suffered overmuch.\" Then Sir Launcelot spake on\nhigh unto King Arthur, and said, \"My lord Arthur, now I have\nforborne long, and suffered you and Sir Gawain to do what ye\nwould, and now must I needs defend myself, inasmuch as Sir Gawain\nhath appealed me of treason.\" Then Sir Launcelot armed him and\nmounted upon his horse, and the noble knights came out of the\ncity, and the host without stood all apart; and so the covenant\nwas made that no man should come near the two knights, nor deal\nwith them, till one were dead or yielded.\n\nThen Sir Launcelot and Sir Gawain departed a great way asunder,\nand then they came together with all their horses' might, and each\nsmote the other in the middle of their shields, but neither of\nthem was unhorsed, but their horses fell to the earth. And then\nthey leapt from their horses, and drew their swords, and gave many\nsad strokes, so that the blood burst out in many places. Now Sir\nGawain had this gift from a holy man, that every day in the year,\nfrom morning to noon, his strength was increased threefold, and\nthen it fell again to its natural measure. Sir Launcelot was aware\nof this, and therefore, during the three hours that Sir Gawain's\nstrength was at the height, Sir Launcelot covered himself with his\nshield, and kept his might in reserve. And during that time Sir\nGawain gave him many sad brunts, that all the knights that looked\non marvelled how Sir Launcelot might endure them. Then, when it\nwas past noon, Sir Gawain had only his own might; and when Sir\nLauncelot felt him so brought down he stretched himself up, and\ndoubled his strokes, and gave Sir Gawain such a buffet that he\nfell down on his side; and Sir Launcelot drew back and would\nstrike no more. \"Why withdrawest thou, false traitor?\" then said\nSir Gawain; \"now turn again and slay me, for if thou leave me thus\nwhen I am whole again, I shall do battle with thee again.\" \"I\nshall endure you, sir, by God's grace,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"but\nknow thou well Sir Gawain, I will never smite a felled knight.\"\nAnd so Sir Launcelot went into the city, and Sir Gawain was borne\ninto King Arthur's pavilion, and his wounds were looked to.\n\nThus the siege endured, and Sir Gawain lay helpless near a month;\nand when he was near recovered came tidings unto King Arthur that\nmade him return with all his host to England.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII\n\nMORTE D'ARTHUR\n\n\nSir Modred was left ruler of all England, and he caused letters to\nbe written, as if from beyond sea, that King Arthur was slain in\nbattle. So he called a Parliament, and made himself be crowned\nking; and he took the queen Guenever, and said plainly that he\nwould wed her, but she escaped from him and took refuge in the\nTower of London. And Sir Modred went and laid siege about the\nTower of London, and made great assaults thereat, but all might\nnot avail him. Then came word to Sir Modred that King Arthur had\nraised the siege of Sir Launcelot, and was coming home. Then Sir\nModred summoned all the barony of the land; and much people drew\nunto Sir Modred, and said they would abide with him for better and\nfor worse; and he drew a great host to Dover, for there he heard\nsay that King Arthur would arrive.\n\n    \"I hear the steps of Modred in the west,\n    And with him many of thy people, and knights\n    Once thine, whom thou hast loved, but grosser grown\n    Than heathen, spitting at their vows and thee\"\n\n                                 --The Passing of Arthur.\n\nAnd as Sir Modred was at Dover with his host, came King Arthur,\nwith a great number of ships and galleys, and there was Sir Modred\nawaiting upon the landing. Then was there launching of great boats\nand small, full of noble men of arms, and there was much slaughter\nof gentle knights on both parts. But King Arthur was so\ncourageous, there might no manner of knights prevent him to land,\nand his knights fiercely followed him; and so they landed, and put\nSir Modred aback so that he fled, and all his people. And when the\nbattle was done, King Arthur commanded to bury his people that\nwere dead. And then was noble Sir Gawain found, in a great boat,\nlying more than half dead. And King Arthur went to him, and made\nsorrow out of measure. \"Mine uncle,\" said Sir Gawain, \"know thou\nwell my death-day is come, and all is through mine own hastiness\nand wilfulness, for I am smitten upon the old wound which Sir\nLauncelot gave me, of which I feel I must die. And had Sir\nLauncelot been with you as of old, this war had never begun, and\nof all this I am the cause.\" Then Sir Gawain prayed the king to\nsend for Sir Launcelot, and to cherish him above all other\nknights. And so at the hour of noon Sir Gawain yielded up his\nspirit, and then the king bade inter him in a chapel within Dover\nCastle; and there all men may see the skull of him, and the same\nwound is seen that Sir Launcelot gave him in battle.\n\nThen was it told the king that Sir Modred had pitched his camp\nupon Barrendown; and the king rode thither, and there was a great\nbattle betwixt them, and King Arthur's party stood best, and Sir\nModred and his party fled unto Canterbury.\n\nAnd there was a day assigned betwixt King Arthur and Sir Modred\nthat they should meet upon a down beside Salisbury, and not far\nfrom the sea-side, to do battle yet again. And at night, as the\nking slept, he dreamed a wonderful dream. It seemed him verily\nthat there came Sir Gawain unto him, with a number of fair ladies\nwith him. And when King Arthur saw him, he said, \"Welcome, my\nsister's son; I weened thou hadst been dead; and now I see thee\nalive great is my joy. But, O fair nephew, what be these ladies\nthat hither be come with you?\" \"Sir,\" said Sir Gawain, \"all these\nbe ladies for whom I have fought when I was a living man; and\nbecause I did battle for them in righteous quarrel they have given\nme grace to bring me hither unto you to warn you of your death, if\nye fight to-morrow with Sir Modred. Therefore take ye treaty, and\nproffer you largely for a month's delay; for within a month shall\ncome Sir Launcelot and all his noble knights, and rescue you\nworshipfully, and slay Sir Modred and all that hold with him.\" And\nthen Sir Gawain and all the ladies vanished. And anon the king\ncalled to fetch his noble lords and wise bishops unto him. And\nwhen they were come, the king told them his vision, and what Sir\nGawain had told him. Then the king sent Sir Lucan, the butler, and\nSir Bedivere, with two bishops, and charged them in any wise to\ntake a treaty for a month and a day with Sir Modred. So they\ndeparted, and came to Sir Modred; and so, at the last, Sir Modred\nwas agreed to have Cornwall and Kent during Arthur's life, and all\nEngland after his death.\n\n    \"Sir Modred; he the nearest to the king,\n    His nephew, ever like a subtle beast\n    Lay couchant with his eyes upon the throne,\n    Ready to spring, waiting a chance.\"\n\n                                     --Guinevere\n\nThen was it agreed that King Arthur and Sir Modred should meet\nbetwixt both their hosts, and each of them should bring fourteen\npersons, and then and there they should sign the treaty. And when\nKing Arthur and his knights were prepared to go forth, he warned\nall his host, \"If so be ye see any sword drawn, look ye come on\nfiercely, and slay whomsoever withstandeth, for I in no wise trust\nthat traitor, Sir Modred.\" In like wise Sir Modred warned his\nhost. So they met, and were agreed and accorded thoroughly. And\nwine was brought, and they drank. Right then came an adder out of\na little heath-bush, and stung a knight on the foot. And when the\nknight felt him sting, he looked down and saw the adder, and then\nhe drew his sword to slay the adder, and thought of no other harm.\nAnd when the host on both sides saw that sword drawn, they blew\ntrumpets and horns, and shouted greatly. And King Arthur took his\nhorse, and rode to his party, saying, \"Alas, this unhappy day!\"\nAnd Sir Modred did in like wise. And never was there a more\ndoleful battle in Christian land. And ever King Arthur rode\nthroughout the battle, and did full nobly, as a worthy king\nshould, and Sir Modred that day did his devoir, and put himself in\ngreat peril. And thus they fought all the long day, till the most\nof all the noble knights lay dead upon the ground. Then the king\nlooked about him, and saw of all his host were left alive but two\nknights, Sir Lucan, the butler, and Sir Bedivere, his brother, and\nthey were full sore wounded. Then King Arthur saw where Sir Modred\nleaned upon his sword among a great heap of dead men. \"Now give me\nmy spear,\" said Arthur unto Sir Lucan; \"for yonder I espy the\ntraitor that hast wrought all this woe.\" \"Sir, let him be,\" said\nSir Lucan; \"for if ye pass this unhappy day, ye shall be right\nwell revenged upon him. Remember what the sprite of Sir Gawain\ntold you, and leave off now, for ye have won the field; and if ye\nleave off now this evil day of destiny is past.\" \"Betide me life,\nbetide me death,\" said King Arthur, \"he shall not now escape my\nhands.\" Then the king took his spear in both hands, and ran toward\nSir Modred, crying, \"Traitor, now is thy death-day come.\" And\nthere King Arthur smote Sir Modred under the shield, with a thrust\nof his spear through the body. And when Sir Modred felt that he\nhad his death-wound, with the might that he had he smote King\nArthur, with his sword holden in both his hands, on the side of\nthe head, that the sword pierced the helmet and the brain-pan; and\nthen Sir Modred fell stark dead upon the earth. And the noble\nArthur fell in a swoon to the earth. And Sir Lucan, the butler,\nand Sir Bedivere raised him up, and gently led him betwixt them\nboth to a little chapel not far from the sea-side. And when the\nking was there he thought him well eased. Then heard they people\ncry in the field. And Sir Lucan went to see what that cry\nbetokened; and he saw by the moonlight that pillers and robbers\nwere come to rob the dead. And he returned, and said to the king,\n\"By my rede, it is best that we bring you to some town.\" \"I would\nit were so,\" said the king. And when the king tried to go he\nfainted. Then Sir Lucan took up the king on the one part, and Sir\nBedivere on the other part; and in the lifting, Sir Lucan fell in\na swoon to the earth, for he was grievously wounded. And then the\nnoble knight's heart burst. And when the king awoke he beheld Sir\nLucan how he lay foaming at the mouth, and speechless. \"Alas!\"\nsaid the king, \"this is to me a full heavy sight, to see this\nnoble duke so die for my sake; for he would have holpen me that\nhad more need of help than I, and he would not complain, his heart\nwas so set to help me.\" Then Sir Bedivere wept for his brother.\n\"Leave this mourning and weeping,\" said the king, \"for wilt thou\nwell, if I might live myself, the death of Sir Lucan would grieve\nme evermore; but my time hieth fast. Therefore,\" said Arthur unto\nSir Bedivere, \"take thou Excalibar, my good sword, and go with it\nto yonder water-side; and when thou comest there I charge thee\nthrow my sword in that water, and come again and tell me what thou\nthere seest.\" \"My lord,\" said Sir Bedivere, \"your commandment\nshall be done.\" So Sir Bedivere departed, and by the way he beheld\nthat noble sword, that the pommel and the haft were all of\nprecious stones; and then he said to himself, \"If I throw this\nrich sword into the water no good shall come thereof, but only\nharm and loss.\" And then Sir Bedivere hid Excalibar under a tree.\nAnd so, as soon as he might, he came again to the king. \"What\nsawest thou there?\" said the king. \"Sir,\" he said, \"I saw\nnothing.\" \"Alas! thou hast deceived me,\" said the king. \"Go thou\nlightly again, and as thou love me, spare not to throw it in.\"\nThen Sir Bedivere went again, and took the sword in his hand to\nthrow it; but again it beseemed him but sin and shame to throw\naway that noble sword, and he hid it away again, and returned, and\ntold the king he had done his commandment. \"What sawest thou\nthere?\" said the king. \"Sir,\" he said, \"I saw nothing but waters\ndeep and waves wan.\" \"Ah, traitor untrue!\" said King Arthur, \"now\nhast thou betrayed me twice. And yet thou art named a noble\nknight, and hast been lief and dear to me. But now go again, and\ndo as I bid thee, for thy long tarrying putteth me in jeopardy of\nmy life.\" Then Sir Bedivere went to the sword, and lightly took it\nup, and went to the water-side, and he bound the girdle about the\nhilt, and then he threw the sword as far into the water as he\nmight. And there came an arm and a hand out of the water, and met\nit, and caught it, and shook it thrice and brandished it, and then\nvanished away the hand with the sword in the water.\n\nThen Sir Bedivere came again to the king, and told him what he\nsaw. \"Help me hence,\" said the king, \"for I fear I have tarried\ntoo long.\" Then Sir Bedivere took the king on his back, and so\nwent with him to that water-side; and when they came there, even\nfast by the bank there rode a little barge with many fair ladies\nin it, and among them was a queen; and all had black hoods, and\nthey wept and shrieked when they saw King Arthur.\n\n\"Now put me in the barge,\" said the king. And there received him\nthree queens with great mourning, and in one of their laps King\nArthur laid his head. And the queen said, \"Ah, dear brother, why\nhave ye tarried so long? Alas! this wound on your head hath caught\nover-much cold.\" And then they rowed from the land, and Sir\nBedivere beheld them go from him. Then he cried: \"Ah, my lord\nArthur, will ye leave me here alone among mine enemies?\" \"Comfort\nthyself,\" said the king, \"for in me is no further help; for I will\nto the Isle of Avalon, to heal me of my grievous wound.\" And as\nsoon as Sir Bedivere had lost sight of the barge, he wept and\nwailed; then he took the forest, and went all that night, and in\nthe morning he was ware of a chapel and a hermitage.\n\nThen went Sir Bedivere thither; and when he came into the chapel,\nhe saw where lay an hermit on the ground, near a tomb that was\nnewly graven. \"Sir,\" said Sir Bedivere, \"what man is there buried\nthat ye pray so near unto?\" \"Fair son,\" said the hermit, \"I know\nnot verily. But this night there came a number of ladies, and\nbrought hither one dead, and prayed me to bury him.\" \"Alas!\" said\nSir Bedivere, \"that was my lord, King Arthur.\" Then Sir Bedivere\nswooned; and when he awoke he prayed the hermit he might abide\nwith him, to live with fasting and prayers. \"Ye are welcome,\" said\nthe hermit. So there bode Sir Bedivere with the hermit; and he put\non poor clothes, and served the hermit full lowly in fasting and\nin prayers.\n\nThus of Arthur I find never more written in books that be\nauthorized, nor more of the very certainty of his death; but thus\nwas he led away in a ship, wherein were three queens; the one was\nKing Arthur's sister, Queen Morgane le Fay; the other was Viviane,\nthe Lady of the Lake; and the third was the queen of North Galis.\nAnd this tale Sir Bedivere, knight of the Table Round, made to be\nwritten.\n\nYet some men say that King Arthur is not dead, but hid away into\nanother place, and men say that he shall come again and reign over\nEngland. But many say that there is written on his tomb this\nverse:\n\n    \"Hie facet Arthurus, Rex quondam, Rexque futurus.\"\n        Here Arthur lies, King once and King to be.\n\nAnd when Queen Guenever understood that King Arthur was slain, and\nall the noble knights with him, she stole away, and five ladies\nwith her; and so she went to Almesbury, and made herself a nun,\nand ware white clothes and black, and took great penance as ever\ndid sinful lady, and lived in fasting, prayers, and alms-deeds.\nAnd there she was abbess and ruler of the nuns.\n\n     \"And when she came to Almesbury she spake\n    There to the nuns, and said, 'Mine enemies\n    Pursue me, but, O peaceful Sisterhood,\n    Receive, and yield me sanctuary, nor ask\n    Her name to whom ye yield it, till her time\n    To tell you;' and her beauty, grace and power\n    Wrought as a charm upon them, and they spared\n    To ask it.\"\n\n                                        --Guinevere.\n\nNow turn we from her, and speak of Sir Launcelot of the Lake.\n\nWhen Sir Launcelot heard in his country that Sir Modred was\ncrowned king of England, and made war against his own uncle, King\nArthur, then was Sir Launcelot wroth out of measure, and said to\nhis kinsmen: \"Alas, that double traitor, Sir Modred! now it\nrepenteth me that ever he escaped out of my hands.\" Then Sir\nLauncelot and his fellows made ready in all haste, with ships and\ngalleys, to pass into England; and so he passed over till he came\nto Dover, and there he landed with a great army. Then Sir\nLauncelot was told that King Arthur was slain. \"Alas!\" said Sir\nLauncelot, \"this is the heaviest tidings that ever came to me.\"\nThen he called the kings, dukes, barons, and knights, and said\nthus: \"My fair lords, I thank you all for coming into this country\nwith me, but we came too late, and that shall repent me while I\nlive. But since it is so,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"I will myself ride\nand seek my lady, Queen Guenever, for I have heard say she hath\nfled into the west; therefore ye shall abide me here fifteen days,\nand if I come not within that time, then take your ships and your\nhost, and depart into your country.\"\n\nSo Sir Launcelot departed and rode westerly, and there he sought\nmany days; and at last he came to a nunnery, and was seen of Queen\nGuenever as he walked in the cloister; and when she saw him she\nswooned away. And when she might speak she bade him to be called\nto her. And when Sir Launcelot was brought to her she said: \"Sir\nLauncelot, I require thee and beseech thee, for all the love that\never was betwixt us, that thou never see me more, but return to\nthy kingdom and take thee a wife, and live with her with joy and\nbliss; and pray for me to my Lord, that I may get my soul's\nhealth.\" \"Nay, madam,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"wit you well that I\nshall never do; but the same destiny that ye have taken you to\nwill I take me unto, for to please and serve God.\" And so they\nparted, with tears and much lamentation; and the ladies bare the\nqueen to her chamber, and Sir Launcelot took his horse and rode\naway, weeping.\n\nAnd at last Sir Launcelot was ware of a hermitage and a chapel,\nand then he heard a little bell ring to mass; and thither he rode\nand alighted, and tied his horse to the gate, and heard mass. And\nhe that sang the mass was the hermit with whom Sir Bedivere had\ntaken up his abode; and Sir Bedivere knew Sir Launcelot, and they\nspake together after mass. But when Sir Bedivere had told his\ntale, Sir Launcelot's heart almost burst for sorrow. Then he\nkneeled down, and prayed the hermit to shrive him, and besought\nthat he might be his brother. Then the hermit said, \"I will\ngladly;\" and then he put a habit upon Sir Launcelot, and there he\nserved God day and night, with prayers and fastings.\n\nAnd the great host abode at Dover till the end of the fifteen days\nset by Sir Launcelot, and then Sir Bohort made them to go home\nagain to their own country; and Sir Bohort, Sir Hector de Marys,\nSir Blamor, and many others, took on them to ride through all\nEngland to seek Sir Launcelot. So Sir Bohort by fortune rode until\nhe came to the same chapel where Sir Launcelot was; and when he\nsaw Sir Launcelot in that manner of clothing he, prayed the hermit\nthat he might be in that same. And so there was an habit put upon\nhim, and there he lived in prayers and fasting. And within half a\nyear came others of the knights, their fellows, and took such a\nhabit as Sir Launcelot and Sir Bohort had. Thus they endured in\ngreat penance six years.\n\nAnd upon a night there came a vision to Sir Launcelot, and charged\nhim to haste toward Almesbury, and \"by the time thou come there,\nthou shalt find Queen Guenever dead.\" Then Sir Launcelot rose up\nearly and told the hermit thereof. Then said the hermit, \"It were\nwell that ye disobey not this vision.\" And Sir Launcelot took his\nseven companions with him, and on foot they went from Glastonbury\nto Almesbury, which is more than thirty miles. And when they were\ncome to Almesbury, they found that Queen Guenever died but half an\nhour before. Then Sir Launcelot saw her visage, but he wept not\ngreatly, but sighed. And so he did all the observance of the\nservice himself, both the \"dirige\" at night, and at morn he sang\nmass. And there was prepared an horse-bier, and Sir Launcelot and\nhis fellows followed the bier on foot from Almesbury until they\ncame to Glastonbury; and she was wrapped in cered clothes, and\nlaid in a coffin of marble. And when she was put in the earth Sir\nLauncelot swooned, and lay long as one dead.\n\nAnd Sir Launcelot never after ate but little meat, nor drank; but\ncontinually mourned. And within six weeks Sir Launcelot fell sick;\nand he sent for the hermit and all his true fellows, and said,\n\"Sir hermit, I pray you give me all my rights that a Christian man\nought to have.\" \"It shall not need,\" said the hermit and all his\nfellows; \"it is but heaviness of your blood, and to-morrow morn\nyou shall be well\" \"My fair lords,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"my\ncareful body will into the earth; I have warning more than now I\nwill say; therefore give me my rights.\" So when he was houseled\nand aneled, and had all that a Christian man ought to have, he\nprayed the hermit that his fellows might bear his body to Joyous\nGarde. (Some men say it was Alnwick, and some say it was\nBamborough.) \"It repenteth me sore,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"but I\nmade a vow aforetime that in Joyous Garde I would be buried.\" Then\nthere was weeping and wringing of hands among his fellows. And\nthat night Sir Launcelot died; and when Sir Bohort and his fellows\ncame to his bedside the next morning they found him stark dead;\nand he lay as if he had smiled, and the sweetest savor all about\nhim that ever they knew.\n\nAnd they put Sir Launcelot into the same horse-bier that Queen\nGuenever was laid in, and the hermit and they altogether went with\nthe body till they came to Joyous Garde. And there they laid his\ncorpse in the body of the quire, and sang and read many psalms and\nprayers over him. And ever his visage was laid open and naked,\nthat all folks might behold him. And right thus, as they were at\ntheir service, there came Sir Hector de Maris, that had seven\nyears sought Sir Launcelot, his brother, through all England,\nScotland and Wales. And when Sir Hector heard such sounds in the\nchapel of Joyous Garde he alighted and came into the quire. And\nall they knew Sir Hector. Then went Sir Bohort, and told him how\nthere lay Sir Launcelot, his brother, dead. Then Sir Hector threw\nhis shield, his sword, and helm from him. And when he beheld Sir\nLauncelot's visage it were hard for any tongue to tell the doleful\ncomplaints he made for his brother. \"Ah, Sir Launcelot!\" he said,\n\"there thou liest. And now I dare to say thou wert never matched\nof none earthly knight's hand. And thou wert the courteousest\nknight that ever bare shield; and thou wert the truest friend to\nthy lover that ever bestrode horse; and thou wert the truest\nlover, of a sinful man, that ever loved woman; and thou wert the\nkindest man that ever struck with sword. And thou wert the\ngoodliest person that ever came among press of knights. And thou\nwert the meekest man, and the gentlest, that ever ate in hall\namong ladies. And thou wert the sternest knight to thy mortal foe\nthat ever put spear in the rest.\" Then there was weeping and dolor\nout of measure. Thus they kept Sir Launcelot's corpse fifteen\ndays, and then they buried it with great devotion.\n\nThen they went back with the hermit to his hermitage. And Sir\nBedivere was there ever still hermit to his life's end. And Sir\nBohort, Sir Hector, Sir Blamor, and Sir Bleoberis went into the\nHoly Land. And these four knights did many battles upon the\nmiscreants, the Turks; and there they died upon a Good Friday, as\nit pleased God.\n\nThus endeth this noble and joyous book, entitled \"La Morte\nd'Arthur;\" notwithstanding it treateth of the birth, life, and\nacts of the said King Arthur, and of his noble Knights of the\nRound Table, their marvellous enquests and adventures, the\nachieving of the Sangreal, and, in the end, le Morte d'Arthur,\nwith the dolorous death and departing out of this world of them\nall. Which book was reduced into English by Sir Thomas Mallory,\nKnight, and divided into twenty-one books, chaptered and imprinted\nand finished in the Abbey Westmestre, the last day of July, the\nyear of our Lord MCCCCLXXXV.\n\nCaxton me fieri fecit.\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE MABINOGEON\n\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTORY NOTE\n\n\nIt has been well known to the literati and antiquarians of Europe\nthat there exist in the great public libraries voluminous\nmanuscripts of romances and tales once popular, but which on the\ninvention of printing had already become antiquated, and fallen\ninto neglect. They were therefore never printed, and seldom\nperused even by the learned, until about half a century ago, when\nattention was again directed to them, and they were found very\ncurious monuments of ancient manners, habits, and modes of\nthinking. Several have since been edited, some by individuals, as\nSir Walter Scott and the poet Southey, others by antiquarian\nsocieties. The class of readers which could be counted on for such\npublications was so small that no inducement of profit could be\nfound to tempt editors and publishers to give them to the world.\nIt was therefore only a few, and those the most accessible, which\nwere put in print. There was a class of manuscripts of this kind\nwhich were known, or rather suspected, to be both curious and\nvaluable, but which it seemed almost hopeless to expect ever to\nsee in fair printed English. These were the Welsh popular tales\ncalled Mabinogeon, a plural word, the singular being Mabinogi, a\ntale. Manuscripts of these were contained in the Bodleian Library\nat Oxford and elsewhere, but the difficulty was to find\ntranslators and editors. The Welsh is a spoken language among the\npeasantry of Wales, but is entirely neglected by the learned,\nunless they are natives of the principality. Of the few Welsh\nscholars none were found who took sufficient interest in this\nbranch of learning to give these productions to the English\npublic. Southey and Scott, and others, who like them, loved the\nold romantic legends of their country, often urged upon the Welsh\nliterati the duty of reproducing the Mabinogeon. Southey, in the\npreface of his edition of \"Moted'Arthur,\" says: \"The specimens\nwhich I have seen are exceedingly curious; nor is there a greater\ndesideratum in British literature than an edition of these tales,\nwith a literal version, and such comments as Mr. Davies of all men\nis best qualified to give. Certain it is that many of the round\ntable fictions originated in Wales, or in Bretagne, and probably\nmight still be traced there.\"\n\nAgain, in a letter to Sir Charles W. W. Wynn, dated 1819, he says:\n\n\"I begin almost to despair of ever seeing more of the Mabinogeon;\nand yet if some competent Welshman could be found to edit it\ncarefully, with as literal a version as possible, I am sure it\nmight be made worth his while by a subscription, printing a small\nedition at a high price, perhaps two hundred at five guineas. I\nmyself would gladly subscribe at that price per volume for such an\nedition of the whole of your genuine remains in prose and verse.\nTill some such collection is made, the 'gentlemen of Wales' ought\nto be prohibited from wearing a leek; ay, and interdicted from\ntoasted cheese also. Your bards would have met with better usage\nif they had been Scotchmen.\"\n\nSharon Turner and Sir Walter Scott also expressed a similar wish\nfor the publication of the Welsh manuscripts. The former took part\nin an attempt to effect it, through the instrumentality of a Mr.\nOwen, a Welshman, but, we judge, by what Southey says of him,\nimperfectly acquainted with English. Southey's language is\n\"William Owen lent me three parts of the Mabinogeon, delightfully\ntranslated into so Welsh an idiom and syntax that such a\ntranslation is as instructive as an original.\" In another letter\nhe adds, \"Let Sharon make his language grammatical, but not alter\ntheir idiom in the slightest point.\"\n\nIt is probable Mr. Owen did not proceed far in an undertaking\nwhich, so executed, could expect but little popular patronage. It\nwas not till an individual should appear possessed of the\nrequisite knowledge of the two languages, of enthusiasm sufficient\nfor the task, and of pecuniary resources sufficient to be\nindependent of the booksellers and of the reading public, that\nsuch a work could be confidently expected. Such an individual has,\nsince Southey's day and Scott's, appeared in the person of Lady\nCharlotte Guest, an English lady united to a gentleman of property\nin Wales, who, having acquired the language of the principality,\nand become enthusiastically fond of its literary treasures, has\ngiven them to the English reader, in a dress which the printer's\nand the engraver's arts have done their best to adorn. In four\nroyal octavo volumes containing the Welsh originals, the\ntranslation, and ample illustrations from French, German, and\nother contemporary and affiliated literature, the Mabinogeon is\nspread before us. To the antiquarian and the student of language\nand ethnology an invaluable treasure, it yet can hardly in such a\nform win its way to popular acquaintance. We claim no other merit\nthan that of bringing it to the knowledge of our readers, of\nabridging its details, of selecting its most attractive portions,\nand of faithfully preserving throughout the style in which Lady\nGuest has clothed her legends. For this service we hope that our\nreaders will confess we have laid them under no light obligation.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nTHE BRITONS\n\n\nThe earliest inhabitants of Britain are supposed to have been a\nbranch of that great family known in history by the designation of\nCelts. Cambria, which is a frequent name for Wales, is thought to\nbe derived from Cymri, the name which the Welsh traditions apply\nto an immigrant people who entered the island from the adjacent\ncontinent. This name is thought to be identical with those of\nCimmerians and Cimbri, under which the Greek and Roman historians\ndescribe a barbarous people, who spread themselves from the north\nof the Euxine over the whole of Northwestern Europe.\n\nThe origin of the names Wales and Welsh has been much canvassed.\nSome writers make them a derivation from Gael or Gaul, which names\nare said to signify \"woodlanders;\" others observe that Walsh, in\nthe northern languages, signifies a stranger, and that the\naboriginal Britons were so called by those who at a later era\ninvaded the island and possessed the greater part of it, the\nSaxons and Angles.\n\nThe Romans held Britain from the invasion of Julius Caesar till\ntheir voluntary withdrawal from the island, A.D. 420,--that is,\nabout five hundred years. In that time there must have been a wide\ndiffusion of their arts and institutions among the natives. The\nremains of roads, cities, and fortifications show that they did\nmuch to develop and improve the country, while those of their\nvillas and castles prove that many of the settlers possessed\nwealth and taste for the ornamental arts. Yet the Roman sway was\nsustained chiefly by force, and never extended over the entire\nisland. The northern portion, now Scotland, remained independent,\nand the western portion, constituting Wales and Cornwall, was only\nnominally subjected.\n\nNeither did the later invading hordes succeed in subduing the\nremoter sections of the island. For ages after the arrival of the\nSaxons under Hengist and Horsa, A.D. 449, the whole western coast\nof Britain was possessed by the aboriginal inhabitants, engaged in\nconstant warfare with the invaders.\n\nIt has, therefore, been a favorite boast of the people of Wales\nand Cornwall that the original British stock flourishes in its\nunmixed purity only among them. We see this notion flashing out in\npoetry occasionally, as when Gray, in \"The Bard,\" prophetically\ndescribing Queen Elizabeth, who was of the Tudor, a Welsh race,\nsays:\n\n    \"Her eye proclaims her of the Briton line;\"\n\nand, contrasting the princes of the Tudor with those of the Norman\nrace, he exclaims:\n\n    \"All hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, hail!\"\n\nTHE WELSH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE\n\nThe Welsh language is one of the oldest in Europe. It possesses\npoems the origin of which is referred with probability to the\nsixth century. The language of some of these is so antiquated that\nthe best scholars differ about the interpretation of many\npassages; but, generally speaking, the body of poetry which the\nWelsh possess, from the year 1000 downwards, is intelligible to\nthose who are acquainted with the modern language.\n\nTill within the last half-century these compositions remained\nburied in the libraries of colleges or of individuals, and so\ndifficult of access that no successful attempt was made to give\nthem to the world. This reproach was removed after ineffectual\nappeals to the patriotism of the gentry of Wales, by Owen Jones, a\nfurrier of London, who at his own expense collected and published\nthe chief productions of Welsh literature, under the title of the\nMyvyrian Archaeology of Wales. In this task he was assisted by Dr.\nOwen and other Welsh scholars.\n\nAfter the cessation of Jones' exertions the old apathy returned,\nand continued till within a few years. Dr. Owen exerted himself to\nobtain support for the publication of the Mabinogeon or Prose\nTales of the Welsh, but died without accomplishing his purpose,\nwhich has since been carried into execution by Lady Charlotte\nGuest. The legends which fill the remainder of this volume are\ntaken from this work, of which we have already spoken more fully\nin the introductory chapter to the First Part.\n\nTHE WELSH BARDS\n\nThe authors to whom the oldest Welsh poems are attributed are\nAneurin, who is supposed to have lived A.D. 500 to 550, and\nTaliesin, Llywarch Hen (Llywarch the Aged), and Myrddin or Merlin,\nwho were a few years later. The authenticity of the poems which\nbear their names has been assailed, and it is still an open\nquestion how many and which of them are authentic, though it is\nhardly to be doubted that some are so. The poem of Aneurin\nentitled the \"Gododin\" bears very strong marks of authenticity.\nAneurin was one of the Northern Britons of Strath-Clyde, who have\nleft to that part of the district they inhabited the name of\nCumberland, or Land of the Cymri. In this poem he laments the\ndefeat of his countrymen by the Saxons at the battle of Cattraeth,\nin consequence of having partaken too freely of the mead before\njoining in combat. The bard himself and two of his fellow-warriors\nwere all who escaped from the field. A portion of this poem has\nbeen translated by Gray, of which the following is an extract:\n\n    \"To Cattraeth's vale, in glittering row,\n    Twice two hundred warriors go;\n    Every warrior's manly neck\n    Chains of regal honor deck,\n    Wreathed in many a golden link;\n    From the golden cup they drink\n    Nectar that the bees produce,\n    Or the grape's exalted juice.\n    Flushed with mirth and hope they burn,\n    But none to Cattraeth's vale return,\n    Save Aeron brave, and Conan strong,\n    Bursting through the bloody throng,\n    And I, the meanest of them all,\n    That live to weep, and sing their fall.\"\n\nThe works of Taliesin are of much more questionable authenticity.\nThere is a story of the adventures of Taliesin so strongly marked\nwith mythical traits as to cast suspicion on the writings\nattributed to him. This story will be found in the subsequent\npages.\n\nTHE TRIADS\n\nThe Triads are a peculiar species of poetical composition, of\nwhich the Welsh bards have left numerous examples. They are\nenumerations of a triad of persons, or events, or observations,\nstrung together in one short sentence. This form of composition,\noriginally invented, in all likelihood, to assist the memory, has\nbeen raised by the Welsh to a degree of elegance of which it\nhardly at first sight appears susceptible. The Triads are of all\nages, some of them probably as old as anything in the language.\nShort as they are individually, the collection in the Myvyrian\nArchaeology occupies more than one hundred and seventy pages of\ndouble columns. We will give some specimens, beginning with\npersonal triads, and giving the first place to one of King\nArthur's own composition:\n\n   \"I have three heroes in battle:\n    Mael the tall, and Llyr, with his army,\n    And Caradoc, the pillar of Wales.\"\n\n\"The three principal bards of the island of Britain:--\n  Merlin Ambrose\n  Merlin the son of Mprfyn, called also Merlin the Wild,\n  And Taliesin, the chief of the bards.\"\n\n\"The three golden-tongued knights of the court of Arthur:--\n  Gawain, son of Gwyar,\n  Drydvas, son of Tryphin,\n  And Ehwlod, son of Madag, ap Uther.\"\n\n\"The three honorable feasts of the island of Britain:--\nThe feast of Caswallaun, after repelling Julius Caesar from this\n    isle;\nThe feast of Aurelius Ambrosius, after he had conquered the\n    Saxons;\nAnd the feast of King Arthur, at Carleon upon Usk.\"\n\n    \"Guenever, the daughter of Laodegan the giant,\n     Bad when little, worse when great.\"\n\nNext follow some moral triads:\n\n    \"Hast thou heard what Dremhidydd sung,\n     An ancient watchman on the castle walls?\n     A refusal is better than a promise unperformed.\"\n\n    \"Hast thou heard what Llenleawg sung,\n     The noble chief wearing the golden torques?\n     The grave is better than a life of want.\"\n\n    \"Hast thou heard what Garselit sung,\n     The Irishman whom it is safe to follow?\n     Sin is bad, if long pursued.\"\n\n    \"Hast thou heard what Avaon sung,\n     The son of Taliesin, of the recording verse?\n     The cheek will not conceal the anguish of the heart.\"\n\n    \"Didst thou hear what Llywarch sung,\n     The intrepid and brave old man?\n     Greet kindly, though there be no acquaintance.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nTHE LADY OF THE FOUNTAIN\n\nKYNON'S ADVENTURE\n\n\nKing Arthur was at Caerleon upon Usk; and one day he sat in his\nchamber, and with him were Owain, the son of Urien, and Kynon, the\nson of Clydno, and Kay, the son of Kyner, and Guenever and her\nhandmaidens at needlework by the window. In the centre of the\nchamher King Arthur sat, upon a seat of green rushes, [Footnote:\nThe use of green rushes in apartments was by no means peculiar to\nthe court of Carleon upon Usk. Our ancestors had a great\npredilection for them, and they seem to have constituted an\nessential article, not only of comfort, but of luxury. The custom\nof strewing the floor with rushes is well known to have existed in\nEngland during the Middle Ages, and also in France.] over which\nwas spread a covering of flame-covered satin, and a cushion of red\nsatin was under his elbow.\n\nThen Arthur spoke. \"If I thought you would not disparage me,\" said\nhe, \"I would sleep while I wait for my repast; and you can\nentertain one another with relating tales, and can obtain a flagon\nof mead and some meat from Kay.\" And the king went to sleep. And\nKynon the son of Clydno asked Kay for that which Arthur had\npromised them. \"I too will have the good tale which he promised\nme,\" said Kay. \"Nay,\" answered Kynon; \"fairer will it be for thee\nto fulfil Arthur's behest in the first place, and then we will\ntell thee the best tale that we know.\" So Kay went to the kitchen\nand to the mead-cellar, and returned, bearing a flagon of mead,\nand a golden goblet, and a handful of skewers, upon which were\nbroiled collops of meat. Then they ate the collops, and began to\ndrink the mead. \"Now,\" said Kay, \"it is time for you to give me my\nstory.\" \"Kynon,\" said Owain, \"do thou pay to Kay the tale that is\nhis due.\" \"I will do so,\" answered Kynon.\n\n\"I was the only son of my mother and father, and I was exceedingly\naspiring, and my daring was very great. I thought there was no\nenterprise in the world too mighty for me: and after I had\nachieved all the adventures that were in my own country, I\nequipped myself, and set forth to journey through deserts and\ndistant regions. And at length it chanced that I came to the\nfairest valley in the world, wherein were trees all of equal\ngrowth; and a river ran through the valley, and a path was by the\nside of the river. And I followed the path until midday, and\ncontinued my journey along the remainder of the valley until the\nevening; and at the extremity of the plain I came to a large and\nlustrous castle, at the foot of which was a torrent. And I\napproached the castle, and there I beheld two youths with yellow\ncurling hair, each with a frontlet of gold upon his head, and clad\nin a garment of yellow satin; and they had gold clasps upon their\ninsteps. In the hand of each of them was an ivory bow, strung with\nthe sinews of the stag, and their arrows and their shafts were of\nthe bone of the whale, and were winged with peacock's feathers.\nThe shafts also had golden heads. And they had daggers with blades\nof gold, and with hilts of the bone of the whale. And they were\nshooting at a mark.\n\n\"And a little away from them I saw a man in the prime of life,\nwith his beard newly shorn, clad in a robe and mantle of yellow\nsatin, and round the top of his mantle was a band of gold lace. On\nhis feet were shoes of variegated leather, [Footnote: Cordwal is\nthe word in the original, and from the manner in which it is used\nit is evidently intended for the French Cordouan or Cordovan\nleather, which derived its name from Cordova, where it was\nmanufactured. From this comes also our English word cordwainer.]\nfastened by two bosses of gold. When I saw him I went towards him\nand saluted him; and such was his courtesy, that he no sooner\nreceived my greeting than he returned it. And he went with me\ntowards the castle. Now there were no dwellers in the castle,\nexcept those who were in one hall. And there I saw four and twenty\ndamsels, embroidering satin at a window. And this I tell thee,\nKay, that the least fair of them was fairer than the fairest maid\nthou didst ever behold in the island of Britain; and the least\nlovely of them was more lovely than Guenever, the wife of Arthur,\nwhen she appeared loveliest, at the feast of Easter. They rose up\nat my coming, and six of them took my horse, and divested me of my\narmor, and six others took my arms and washed them in a vessel\ntill they were perfectly bright. And the third six spread cloths\nupon the tables and prepared meat. And the fourth six took off my\nsoiled garments and placed others upon me, namely, an under vest\nand a doublet of fine linen, and a robe and a surcoat, and a\nmantle of yellow satin, with a broad gold band upon the mantle.\nAnd they placed cushions both beneath and around me, with\ncoverings of red linen, and I sat down. Now the six maidens who\nhad taken my horse unharnessed him as well as if they had been the\nbest squires in the island of Britain.\n\n\"Then behold they brought bowls of silver, wherein was water to\nwash and towels of linen, some green and some white; and I washed.\nAnd in a little while the man sat down at the table. And I sat\nnext to him, and below me sat all the maidens, except those who\nwaited on us. And the table was of silver, and the cloths upon the\ntable were of linen. And no vessel was served upon the table that\nwas not either of gold or of silver or of buffalo horn. And our\nmeat was brought to us. And verily, Kay, I saw there every sort of\nmeat, and every sort of liquor that I ever saw elsewhere; but the\nmeat and the liquor were better served there than I ever saw them\nin any other place.\n\n\"Until the repast was half over, neither the man nor any one of\nthe damsels spoke a single word to me; but when the man perceived\nthat it would be more agreeable for me to converse than to eat any\nmore, he began to inquire of me who I was. Then I told the man who\nI was and what was the cause of my journey, and said that I was\nseeking whether any one was superior to me, or whether I could\ngain mastery over all. The man looked upon me, and he smiled and\nsaid, 'If I did not fear to do thee a mischief, I would show thee\nthat which thou seekest.' Then I desired him to speak freely. And\nhe said: 'Sleep here to-night, and in the morning arise early, and\ntake the road upwards through the valley, until thou readiest the\nwood. A little way within the wood thou wilt come to a large\nsheltered glade, with a mound in the centre. And thou wilt see a\nblack man of great stature on the top of the mound. He has but one\nfoot, and one eye in the middle of his forehead. He is the wood-\nward of that wood. And thou wilt see a thousand wild animals\ngrazing around him. Inquire of him the way out of the glade, and\nhe will reply to thee briefly, and will point out the road by\nwhich thou shalt find that which thou art in quest of.'\n\n\"And long seemed that night to me. And the next morning I arose\nand equipped myself, and mounted my horse, and proceeded straight\nthrough the valley to the wood, and at length I arrived at the\nglade. And the black man was there, sitting upon the top of the\nmound; and I was three times more astonished at the number of wild\nanimals that I beheld than the man had said I should be. Then I\ninquired of him the way and he asked me roughly whither I would\ngo. And when I had told him who I was and what I sought, 'Take,'\nsaid he, 'that path that leads toward the head of the glade, and\nthere thou wilt find an open space like to a large valley, and in\nthe midst of it a tall tree. Under this tree is a fountain, and by\nthe side of the fountain a marble slab, and on the marble slab a\nsilver bowl, attached by a chain of silver, that it may not be\ncarried away. Take, the bowl and throw a bowlful of water on the\nslab. And if thou dost not find trouble in that adventure, thou\nneedest not seek it during the rest of thy life.'\n\n\"So I journeyed on until I reached the summit of the steep. And\nthere I found everything as the black man had described it to me.\nAnd I went up to the tree, and beneath it I saw the fountain, and\nby its side the marble slab, and the silver bowl fastened by the\nchain. Then I took the bowl, and cast a bowlful of water upon the\nslab, and immediately I heard a mighty peal of thunder, so that\nheaven and earth seemed to tremble with its fury. And after the\nthunder came a, shower; and of a truth I tell thee, Kay, that it\nwas such a shower as neither man nor beast could endure and live.\nI turned my horse's flank toward the shower, and placed the beak\nof my shield over his head and neck, while I held the upper part\nof it over my own neck. And thus I withstood the shower. And\npresently the sky became clear, and with that, behold, the birds\nlighted upon the tree, and sang. And truly, Kay, I never heard any\nmelody equal to that, either before or since. And when I was most\ncharmed with listening to the birds, lo! a chiding voice was heard\nof one approaching me and saying: 'O knight, what has brought thee\nhither? What evil have I done to thee that thou shouldst act\ntowards me and my possessions as thou hast this day? Dost thou not\nknow that the shower to-day has left in my dominions neither man\nnor beast alive that was exposed to it?' And thereupon, behold, a\nknight on a black horse appeared, clothed in jet-black velvet, and\nwith a tabard of black linen about him. And we charged each other,\nand, as the onset was furious, it was not long before I was\noverthrown. Then the knight passed the shaft of his lance through\nthe bridle-rein of my horse, and rode off with the two horses,\nleaving me where I was. And he did not even bestow so much notice\nupon me as to imprison me, nor did he despoil me of my arms. So I\nreturned along the road by which I had come. And when I reached\nthe glade where the black man was, I confess to thee, Kay, it is a\nmarvel that I did not melt down into a liquid pool, through the\nshame that I felt at the black man's derision. And that night I\ncame to the same castle where I had spent the night preceding. And\nI was more agreeably entertained that night than I had been the\nnight before. And I conversed freely with the inmates of the\ncastle; and none of them alluded to my expedition to the fountain,\nneither did I mention it to any. And I remained there that night.\nWhen I arose on the morrow I found ready saddled a dark bay\npalfrey, with nostrils as red as scarlet. And after putting on my\narmor, and leaving there my blessing, I returned to my own court.\nAnd that horse I still possess, and he is in the stable yonder.\nAnd I declare that I would not part with him for the best palfrey\nin the island of Britain.\n\n\"Now, of a truth, Kay, no man ever before confessed to an\nadventure so much to his own discredit; and verily it seems\nstrange to me that neither before nor since have I heard of any\nperson who knew of this adventure, and that the subject of it\nshould exist within King Arthur's dominions without any other\nperson lighting upon it.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE LADY OF THE FOUNTAIN (Continued)\n\nOWAIN'S ADVENTURE\n\n\n[Footnote: Amongst all the characters of early British history\nnone is the more interesting, or occupies more conspicuous place,\nthan the hero of this tale. Urien, his father, was prince of\nRheged, a district comprising the present Cumberland and part of\nthe adjacent country. His valor, and the consideration in which he\nwas held, are a frequent theme of Bardic song, and form the\nsubject of several very spirited odes by Taliesin. Among the\nTriads there is one relating to him; it is thus translated:\n\n\"Three Knights of Battle were in court of Arthur Cadwr, the Earl\nof Cornwall, Launcelot du Lac, and Owain, the son of Urien. And\nthis was their characteristic--that they would not retreat from\nbattle, neither for spear, nor for arrow, nor for sword. And\nArthur never had shame in battle the day he saw their faces there.\nAnd they were called the Knights of Battle.\"]\n\n\"Now,\" quoth Owain, \"would it not be well to go and endeavor to\ndiscover that place?\"\n\n\"By the hand of my friend,\" said Kay, \"often dost thou utter that\nwith thy tongue which thou wouldest not make good with thy deeds.\"\n\n\"In very truth,\" said Guenever, \"it were better thou wert hanged,\nKay, than to use such uncourteous speech towards a man like\nOwain.\"\n\n\"By the hand of my friend, good lady,\" said Kay, \"thy praise of\nOwain is not greater than mine.\"\n\nWith that Arthur awoke, and asked if he had not been sleeping a\nlittle.\n\n\"Yes, lord,\" answered Owain, \"thou hast slept awhile.\"\n\n\"Is it time for us to go to meat?\"\n\n\"It is, lord,\" said Owain.\n\nThen the horn for washing was sounded, and the king and all his\nhousehold sat down to eat. And when the meal was ended Owain\nwithdrew to his lodging, and made ready his horse and his arms.\n\nOn the morrow with the dawn of day he put on his armor, and\nmounted his charger, and travelled through distant lands, and over\ndesert mountains. And at length he arrived at the valley which\nKynon had described to him, and he was certain that it was the\nsame that he sought. And journeying along the valley, by the side\nof the river, he followed its course till he came to the plain,\nand within sight of the castle. When he approached the castle he\nsaw the youths shooting with their bows, in the place where Kynon\nhad seen them, and the yellow man, to whom the castle belonged,\nstanding hard by. And no sooner had Owain saluted the yellow man,\nthan he was saluted by him in return.\n\nAnd he went forward towards the castle, and there he saw the\nchamber; and when he had entered the chamber, he beheld the\nmaidens working at satin embroidery, in chains of gold. And their\nbeauty and their comeliness seemed to Owain far greater than Kynon\nhad represented to him. And they arose to wait upon Owain, as they\nhad done to Kynon. And the meal which they set before him gave\neven more satisfaction to Owain than it had done to Kynon.\n\nAbout the middle of the repast the yellow man asked Owain the\nobject of his journey. And Owain made it known to him, and said,\n\"I am in quest of the knight who guards the fountain.\" Upon this\nthe yellow man smiled, and said that he was as loth to point out\nthat adventure to him as he had been to Kynon. However, he\ndescribed the whole to Owain, and they retired to rest.\n\nThe next morning Owain found his horse made ready for him by the\ndamsels, and he set forward and came to the glade where the black\nman was. And the stature of the black man seemed more wonderful to\nOwain than it had done to Kynon; and Owain asked of him his road,\nand he showed it to him. And Owain followed the road till he came\nto the green tree; and he beheld the fountain, and the slab beside\nthe fountain, with the bowl upon it. And Owain took the bowl and\nthrew a bowlful of water upon the slab. And, lo! the thunder was\nheard, and after the thunder came the shower, more violent than\nKynon had described, and after the shower the sky became bright.\nAnd immediately the birds came and settled upon the tree and sang.\nAnd when their song was most pleasing to Owain he beheld a knight\ncoming towards him through the valley; and he prepared to receive\nhim, and encountered him violently. Having broken both their\nlances, they drew their swords and fought blade to blade. Then\nOwain struck the knight a blow through his helmet, head-piece, and\nvisor, and through the skin, and the flesh, and the bone, until it\nwounded the very brain. Then the black knight felt that he had\nreceived a mortal wound, upon which he turned his horse's head and\nfled. And Owain pursued him and followed close upon him, although\nhe was not near enough to strike him with his sword. Then Owain\ndescried a vast and resplendent castle; and they came to the\ncastle gate. And the black knight was allowed to enter, and the\nportcullis was let fall upon Owain; and it struck his horse behind\nthe saddle, and cut him in two, and carried away the rowels of the\nspurs that were upon Owains' heels. And the portcullis descended\nto the floor. And the rowels of the spurs and part of the horse\nwere without, and Owain with the other part of the horse remained\nbetween the two gates, and the inner gate was closed, so that\nOwain could not go thence; and Owain was in a perplexing\nsituation. And while he was in this state, he could see through an\naperture in the gate a street facing him, with a row of houses on\neach side. And he beheld a maiden, with yellow, curling hair, and\na frontlet of gold upon her head; and she was clad in a dress of\nyellow satin, and on her feet were shoes of variegated leather.\nAnd she approached the gate, and desired that it should be opened.\n\"Heaven knows, lady,\" said Owain, \"it is no more possible for me\nto open to thee from hence, than it is for thee to set me free.\"\nAnd he told her his name, and who he was. \"Truly,\" said the\ndamsel, \"it is very sad that thou canst not be released; and every\nwoman ought to succor thee, for I know there is no one more\nfaithful in the service of ladies than thou. Therefore,\" quoth\nshe, \"whatever is in my power to do for thy release, I will do it.\nTake this ring and put it on thy finger, with the stone inside thy\nhand, and close thy hand upon the stone. And as long as thou\nconcealest it, it will conceal thee. When they come forth to fetch\nthee, they will be much grieved that they cannot find thee. And I\nwill await thee on the horseblock yonder, and thou wilt be able to\nsee me, though I cannot see thee. Therefore come and place thy\nhand upon my shoulder, that I may know that thou art near me. And\nby the way that I go hence do thou accompany me.\"\n\nThen the maiden went away from Owain, and he did all that she had\ntold him. And the people of the castle came to seek Owain to put\nhim to death; and when they found nothing but the half of his\nhorse, they were sorely grieved.\n\nAnd Owain vanished from among them, and went to the maiden, and\nplaced his hand upon her shoulder; whereupon she set off, and\nOwain followed her, until they came to the door of a large and\nbeautiful chamber, and the maiden opened it, and they went in. And\nOwain looked around the chamber, and behold there was not a single\nnail in it that was not painted with gorgeous colors, and there\nwas not a single panel that had not sundry images in gold\nportrayed upon it.\n\nThe maiden kindled a fire, and took water in a silver bowl, and\ngave Owain water to wash. Then she placed before him a silver\ntable, inlaid with gold; upon which was a cloth of yellow linen,\nand she brought him food. And, of a truth, Owain never saw any\nkind of meat that was not there in abundance, but it was better\ncooked there than he had ever found it in any other place. And\nthere was not one vessel from which he was served that was not of\ngold or of silver. And Owain eat and drank until late in the\nafternoon, when lo! they heard a mighty clamor in the castle, and\nOwain asked the maiden what it was. \"They are administering\nextreme unction,\" said she, \"to the nobleman who owns the castle.\"\nAnd she prepared a couch for Owain which was meet for Arthur\nhimself, and Owain went to sleep.\n\nAnd a little after daybreak he heard an exceeding loud clamor and\nwailing, and he asked the maiden what was the cause of it. \"They\nare bearing to the church the body of the nobleman who owned the\ncastle.\"\n\nAnd Owain rose up, and clothed himself, and opened a window of the\nchamber, and looked towards the castle; and he could see neither\nthe bounds nor the extent of the hosts that filled the streets.\nAnd they were fully armed; and a vast number of women were with\nthem, both on horseback and on foot, and all the ecclesiastics in\nthe city singing. In the midst of the throng he beheld the bier,\nover which was a veil of white linen; and wax tapers were burning\nbeside and around it; and none that supported the bier was lower\nin rank than a powerful baron.\n\nNever did Owain see an assemblage so gorgeous with silk [Footnote:\nBefore the sixth century all the silk used by Europeans had been\nbrought to them by the Seres, the ancestors of the present\nBoukharians, whence it derived its Latin name of Serica. In 551\nthe silkworm was brought by two monks to Constantinople, but the\nmanufacture of silk was confined to the Greek empire till the year\n1130, when Roger, king of Sicily, returning from a crusade,\ncollected some manufacturers from Athens and Corinth, and\nestablished them at Palermo, whence the trade was gradually\ndisseminated over Italy. The varieties of silk stuffs known at\nthis time were velvet, satin (which was called samite), and\ntaffety (called cendal or sendall), all of which were occasionally\nstitched with gold and silver.] and satin. And, following the\ntrain, he beheld a lady with yellow hair falling over her\nshoulders, and stained with blood; and about her a dress of yellow\nsatin, which was torn. Upon her feet were shoes of variegated\nleather. And it was a marvel that the ends of her fingers were not\nbruised from the violence with which she smote her hands together.\nTruly she would have been the fairest lady Owain ever saw, had she\nbeen in her usual guise. And her cry was louder than the shout of\nthe men or the clamor of the trumpets. No sooner had he beheld the\nlady than he became inflamed with her love, so that it took entire\npossession of him.\n\nThen he inquired of the maiden who the lady was. \"Heaven knows,\"\nreplied the maiden, \"she is the fairest and the most chaste, and\nthe most liberal, and the most noble of women. She is my mistress,\nand she is called the Countess of the Fountain, the wife of him\nwhom thou didst slay yesterday.\" \"Verily,\" said Owain, \"she is the\nwoman that I love best.\" \"Verily,\" said the maiden, \"she shall\nalso love thee, not a little.\"\n\nThen the maiden prepared a repast for Owain, and truly he thought\nhe had never before so good a meal, nor was he ever so well\nserved. Then she left him, and went towards the castle. When she\ncame there, she found nothing but mourning and sorrow; and the\nCountess in her chamber could not bear the sight of any one\nthrough grief. Luned, for that was the name of the maiden, saluted\nher, but the Countess answered her not. And the maiden bent down\ntowards her, and said, \"What aileth thee, that thou answereth no\none to-day?\" \"Luned,\" said the Countess, \"what change hath\nbefallen thee, that thou hast not come to visit me in my grief. It\nwas wrong in thee, and I so sorely afflicted.\" \"Truly,\" said\nLuned, \"I thought thy good sense was greater than I find it to be.\nIs it well for thee to mourn after that good man, or for anything\nelse that thou canst not have?\" \"I declare to Heaven,\" said the\nCountess, \"that in the whole world there is not a man equal to\nhim.\" \"Not so,\" said Luned, \"for an ugly man would be as good as\nor better than he.\" \"I declare to Heaven,\" said the Countess,\n\"that were it not repugnant to me to put to death one whom I have\nbrought up, I would have thee executed for making such a\ncomparison to me. As it is, I will banish thee.\" \"I am glad,\" said\nLuned, \"that thou hast no other cause to do so than that I would\nhave been of service to thee, where thou didst not know what was\nto thine advantage. Henceforth, evil betide whichever of us shall\nmake the first advance towards reconciliation to the other,\nwhether I should seek an invitation from thee, or thou of thine\nown accord should send to invite.\"\n\nWith that Luned went forth; and the Countess arose and followed\nher to the door of the chamber, and began coughing loudly. And\nwhen Luned looked back, the Countess beckoned to her, and she\nreturned to the Countess. \"In truth,\" said the Countess, \"evil is\nthy disposition; but if thou knowest what is to my advantage,\ndeclare it to me.\" \"I will do so,\" said she.\n\n\"Thou knowest that, except by warfare and arms, it is impossible\nfor thee to preserve thy possessions; delay not, therefore, to\nseek some one who can defend them.\" \"And how can I do that?\" said\nthe Countess. \"I will tell thee,\" said Luned; \"unless thou canst\ndefend the fountain, thou canst not maintain thy dominions; and no\none can defend the fountain except it be a knight of Arthur's\nhousehold. I will go to Arthur's court, and ill betide me if I\nreturn not thence with a warrior who can guard the fountain as\nwell as, or even better than, he who defended it formerly.\" \"That\nwill be hard to perform,\" said the Countess. \"Go, however, and\nmake proof of that which thou hast promised,\"\n\nLuned set out under the pretence of going to Arthur's court; but\nshe went back to the mansion where she had left Owain, and she\ntarried there as long as it might have taken her to travel to the\ncourt of King Arthur and back. And at the end of that time she\napparelled herself, and went to visit the Countess. And the\nCountess was much rejoiced when she saw her, and inquired what\nnews she brought from the court. \"I bring thee the best of news,\"\nsaid Luned, \"for I have compassed the object of my mission. When\nwilt thou that I should present to thee the chieftain who has come\nwith me hither?\" \"Bring him here to visit me to-morrow,\" said the\nCountess, \"and I will cause the town to be assembled by that\ntime.\"\n\nAnd Luned returned home. And the next day at noon, Owain arrayed\nhimself in a coat and a surcoat, and a mantle of yellow satin,\nupon which was a broad band of gold lace; and on his feet were\nhigh shoes of variegated leather, which were fastened by golden\nclasps, in the form of lions. And they proceeded to the chamber of\nthe Countess.\n\nRight glad was the Countess of their coming. And she gazed\nsteadfastly upon Owain, and said, \"Luned, this knight has not the\nlook of a traveller.\" \"What harm is there in that, lady?\" said\nLuned. \"I am certain,\" said the Countess, \"that no other man than\nthis chased the soul from the body of my lord.\" \"So much the\nbetter for thee, lady,\" said Luned, \"for had he not been stronger\nthan thy lord, he could not have deprived him of life. There is no\nremedy for that which is past, be it as it may.\" \"Go back to thine\nabode,\" said the Countess, \"and I will take counsel.\"\n\nThe next day the Countess caused all her subjects to assemble, and\nshowed them that her earldom was left defenceless, and that it\ncould not be protected but with horse and arms, and military\nskill. \"Therefore,\" said she, \"this is what I offer for your\nchoice: either let one of you take me, or give your consent for me\nto take a husband from elsewhere, to defend my dominions.\"\n\nSo they came to the determination that it was better that she\nshould have permission to marry some one from elsewhere; and\nthereupon she sent for the bishops and archbishops, to celebrate\nher nuptials with Owain. And the men of the earldom did Owain\nhomage.\n\nAnd Owain defended the fountain with lance and sword. And this is\nthe manner in which he defended it. Whensoever a knight came\nthere, he overthrew him, and sold him for his full worth. And what\nhe thus gained he divided among his barons and his knights, and no\nman in the whole world could be more beloved than he was by his\nsubjects. And it was thus for the space of three years.\n\n[Footnote: There exists an ancient poem, printed among those of\nTaliesin, called the \"Elegy of Owain ap Urien,\" and containing\nseveral very beautiful and spirited passages It commences\n\n   \"The soul of Owain ap Urien,\n   May its Lord consider its exigencies'\n   Reged's chief the green turf covers.\"\n\nIn the course of this Elegy the bard, alluding to the incessant\nwarfare with which this chieftain harassed his Saxon foes,\nexclaims,\n\n\"Could England sleep with the light upon her eyes'\"]\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nTHE LADY OF THE FOUNTAIN (Continued)\n\nGAWAIN'S ADVENTURE\n\n\nIt befell that, as Gawain went forth one day with King Arthur, he\nperceived him to be very sad and sorrowful. And Gawain was much\ngrieved to see Arthur in his state, and he questioned him, saying,\n\"O my lord, what has befallen thee?\" \"In sooth, Gawain,\" said\nArthur, \"I am grieved concerning Owain, whom I have lost these\nthree years; and I shall certainly die if the fourth year pass\nwithout my seeing him. Now I am sure that it is through the tale\nwhich Kynon, the son of Clydno, related, that I have lost Owain.\"\n\"There is no need for thee,\" said Gawain, \"to summon to arms thy\nwhole dominions on this account, for thou thyself, and the men of\nthy household, will be able to avenge Owain if he be slain or to\nset him free if he be in prison; and, if alive, to bring him back\nwith thee.\" And it was settled according to what Gawain had said.\n\nThen Arthur and the men of his household prepared to go and seek\nOwain. And Kynon, the son of Clydno, acted as their guide. And\nArthur came to the castle where Kynon had been before. And when he\ncame there, the youths were shooting in the same place, and the\nyellow man was standing hard by. When the yellow man saw Arthur,\nhe greeted him, and invited him to the castle. And Arthur accepted\nhis invitation, and they entered the castle together. And great as\nwas the number of his retinue, their presence was scarcely\nobserved in the castle, so vast was its extent. And the maidens\nrose up to wait on them. And the service of the maidens appeared\nto them all to excel any attendance they had ever met with; and\neven the pages, who had charge of the horses, were no worse served\nthat night than Arthur himself would have been in his own palace.\n\nThe next morning Arthur set out thence, with Kynon for his guide,\nand came to the place where the black man was. And the stature of\nthe black man was more surprising to Arthur than it had been\nrepresented to him. And they came to the top of the wooded steep,\nand traversed the valley, till they reached the green tree, where\nthey saw the fountain and the bowl and the slab. And upon that Kay\ncame to Arthur, and spoke to him. \"My lord,\" said he, \"I know the\nmeaning of all this, and my request is that thou wilt permit me to\nthrow the water on the slab, and to receive the first adventure\nthat may befall.\" And Arthur gave him leave.\n\nThen Kay threw a bowlful of water upon the slab, and immediately\nthere came the thunder, and after the thunder the shower. And such\na thunder-storm they had never known before. After the shower had\nceased, the sky became clear, and on looking at the tree, they\nbeheld it completely leafless. Then the birds descended upon the\ntree. And the song of the birds was far sweeter than any strain\nthey had ever heard before. Then they beheld a knight, on a coal-\nblack horse, clothed in black satin, coming rapidly towards them.\nAnd Kay met him and encountered him, and it was not long before\nKay was overthrown. And the knight withdrew. And Arthur and his\nhost encamped for the night.\n\nAnd when they arose in the morning, they perceived the signal of\ncombat upon the lance of the knight. Then, one by one, all the\nhousehold of Arthur went forth to combat the knight, until there\nwas not one that was not overthrown by him, except Arthur and\nGawain. And Arthur armed himself to encounter the knight. \"O my\nlord,\" said Gawain, \"permit me to fight with him first.\" And\nArthur permitted him. And he went forth to meet the knight, having\nover himself and his horse a satin robe of honor, which had been\nsent him by the daughter of the Earl of Rhangyr, and in this dress\nhe was not known by any of the host. And they charged each other,\nand fought all that day until the evening. And neither of them was\nable to unhorse the other. And so it was the next day; they broke\ntheir lances in the shock, but neither of them could obtain the\nmastery.\n\nAnd the third day they fought with exceeding strong lances. And\nthey were incensed with rage, and fought furiously, even until\nnoon. And they gave each other such a shock that the girths of\ntheir horses were broken, so that they fell over their horses'\ncruppers to the ground. And they rose up speedily and drew their\nswords, and resumed the combat. And all they that witnessed their\nencounter felt assured that they had never before seen two men so\nvaliant or so powerful. And had it been midnight, it would have\nbeen light, from the fire that flashed from their weapons. And the\nknight gave Gawain a blow that turned his helmet from off his\nface, so that the knight saw that it was Gawain. Then Owain said,\n\"My lord Gawain, I did not know thee for my cousin, owing to the\nrobe of honor that enveloped thee; take my sword and my arms.\"\nSaid Gawain, \"Thou, Owain, art the victor; take thou my sword.\"\nAnd with that Arthur saw that they were conversing, and advanced\ntoward them. \"My lord Arthur,\" said Gawam, \"here is Owain who has\nvanquished me, and will not take my arms.\" \"My lord,\" said Owain,\n\"it is he that has vanquished me, and he will not take my sword.\"\n\"Give me your swords,\" said Arthur, \"and then neither of you has\nvanquished the other.\" Then Owain put his arms around Arthur's\nneck, and they embraced. And all the host hurried forward to see\nOwain, and to embrace him. And there was nigh being a loss of\nlife, so great was the press.\n\nAnd they retired that night, and the next day Arthur prepared to\ndepart. \"My lord,\" said Owain, \"this is not well of thee. For I\nhave been absent from thee these three years, and during all that\ntime, up to this very day, I have been preparing a banquet for\nthee, knowing that thou wouldst come to seek me. Tarry with me,\ntherefore, until thou and thy attendants have recovered the\nfatigues of the journey, and have been anointed.\"\n\nAnd they all proceeded to the castle of the Countess of the\nFountain, and the banquet which had been three years preparing was\nconsumed in three months. Never had they a more delicious or\nagreeable banquet. And Arthur prepared to depart. Then he sent an\nembassy to the Countess to beseech her to permit Owain to go with\nhim, for the space of three months, that he might show him to the\nnobles and the fair dames of the island of Britain. And the\nCountess gave her consent, although it was very painful to her. So\nOwain came with Arthur to the island of Britain. And when he was\nonce more amongst his kindred and friends, he remained three\nyears, instead of three months, with them.\n\nTHE ADVENTURE OF THE LION\n\nAnd as Owain one day sat at meat, in the city of Caerleon upon\nUsk, behold a damsel entered the hall, upon a bay horse, with a\ncurling mane, and covered with foam; and the bridle, and as much\nas was seen of the saddle, were of gold. And the damsel was\narrayed in a dress of yellow satin. And she came up to Owain, and\ntook the ring from off his hand. \"Thus,\" said she, \"shall be\ntreated the deceiver, the traitor, the faithless, the disgraced,\nand the beardless.\" And she turned her horse's head and departed.\n\n[Footnote: The custom of riding into a hall while the lord and his\nguests sat at meat might be illustrated by numerous passages of\nancient romance and history. But a quotation from Chaucer's\nbeautiful and half-told tale of \"Cambuscan\" is sufficient:\n\n    \"And so befell that after the thridde cours,\n    While that this king sat thus in his nobley,\n    Herking his minstralles thir thinges play,\n    Beforne him at his bord deliciously,\n    In at the halle door all sodenly\n    Ther came a knight upon a stede of bras,\n    And in his hond a brod mirrour of glas;\n    Upon his thombe he had of gold a ring,\n    And by his side a naked sword hanging;\n    And up he rideth to the highe bord.\n    In all the halle ne was ther spoke a word,\n    For meryaille of this knight; him to behold\n    Full besily they waiten, young and old.\"]\n\nThen his adventure came to Owain's remembrance, and he was\nsorrowful. And having finished eating, he went to his own abode,\nand made preparations that night. And the next day he arose, but\ndid not go to the court, nor did he return to the Countess of the\nFountain, but wandered to the distant parts of the earth and to\nuncultivated mountains. And he remained there until all his\napparel was worn out, and his body was wasted away, and his hair\nwas grown long. And he went about with the wild beasts, and fed\nwith them, until they became familiar with him. But at length he\nbecame so weak that he could no longer bear them company. Then he\ndescended from the mountains to the valley, and came to a park,\nthat was the fairest in the world, and belonged to a charitable\nlady.\n\nOne day the lady and her attendants went forth to walk by a lake\nthat was in the middle of the park. And they saw the form of a\nman, lying as if dead. And they were terrified. Nevertheless they\nwent near him, and touched him, and they saw that there was life\nin him. And the lady returned to the castle, and took a flask full\nof precious ointment and gave it to one of her maidens. \"Go with\nthis,\" said she, \"and take with thee yonder horse, and clothing,\nand place them near the man we saw just now; and anoint him with\nthis balsam near his heart; and if there is life in him, he will\nrevive, through the efficiency of this balsam. Then watch what he\nwill do.\"\n\nAnd the maiden departed from her, and went and poured of the\nbalsam upon Owain, and left the horse and the garments hard by,\nand went a little way off and hid herself to watch him. In a short\ntime, she saw him begin to move; and he rose up, and looked at his\nperson, and became ashamed of the unseemliness of his appearance.\nThen he perceived the horse and the garments that were near him.\nAnd he clothed himself, and with difficulty mounted the horse.\nThen the damsel discovered herself to him, and saluted him. And he\nand the maiden proceeded to the castle, and the maiden conducted\nhim to a pleasant chamber, and kindled a fire, and left him.\n\nAnd he stayed at the castle three months, till he was restored to\nhis former guise, and became even more comely than he had ever\nbeen before. And Owain rendered signal service to the lady, in a\ncontroversy with a powerful neighbor, so that he made ample\nrequital to her for her hospitality; and he took his departure.\n\nAnd as he journeyed he heard a loud yelling in a wood. And it was\nrepeated a second and a third time. And Owain went towards the\nspot, and beheld a huge craggy mound, in the middle of the wood,\non the side of which was a gray rock. And there was a cleft in the\nrock, and a serpent was within the cleft. And near the rock stood\na black lion, and every time the lion sought to go thence the\nserpent darted towards him to attack him. And Owain unsheathed his\nsword, and drew near to the rock; and as the serpent sprung out he\nstruck him with his sword and cut him in two. And he dried his\nsword, and went on his way as before. But behold the lion followed\nhim, and played about him, as though it had been a greyhound that\nhe had reared.\n\nThey proceeded thus throughout the day, until the evening. And\nwhen it was time for Owain to take his rest he dismounted, and\nturned his horse loose in a flat and wooded meadow. And he struck\nfire, and when the fire was kindled, the lion brought him fuel\nenough to last for three nights. And the lion disappeared. And\npresently the lion returned, bearing a fine large roebuck. And he\nthrew it down before Owain, who went towards the fire with it.\n\nAnd Owain took the roebuck, and skinned it, and placed collops of\nits flesh upon skewers round the fire. The rest of the buck he\ngave to the lion to devour. While he was so employed, he heard a\ndeep groan near him, and a second, and a third. And the place\nwhence the groans proceeded was a cave in the rock; and Owain went\nnear, and called out to know who it was that groaned so piteously.\nAnd a voice answered, \"I am Luned, the hand-maiden of the Countess\nof the Fountain.\" \"And what dost thou here?\" said he. \"I am\nimprisoned,\" said she, \"on account of the knight who came from\nArthur's court, and married the Countess. And he staid a short\ntime with her, but he afterwards departed for the court of Arthur,\nand has not returned since. And two of the Countess's pages\ntraduced him, and called him a deceiver. And because I said I\nwould vouch for it he would come before long and maintain his\ncause against both of them, they imprisoned me in this cave, and\nsaid that I should be put to death, unless he came to deliver me,\nby a certain day; and that is no further off than to-morrow, and I\nhave no one to send to seek him for me. His name is Owain, the son\nof Urien.\" \"And art thou certain that if that knight knew all\nthis, he would come to thy rescue?\" \"I am most certain of it,\"\nsaid she.\n\nWhen the collops were cooked, Owain divided them into two parts,\nbetween himself and the maiden, and then Owain laid himself down\nto sleep; and never did sentinel keep stricter watch over his lord\nthan the lion that night over Owain.\n\nAnd the next day there came the two pages with a great troop of\nattendants to take Luned from her cell, and put her to death. And\nOwain asked them what charge they had against her. And they told\nhim of the compact that was between them; as the maiden had done\nthe night before. \"And,\" said they, \"Owain has failed her,\ntherefore we are taking her to be burnt.\" \"Truly,\" said Owain, \"he\nis a good knight; and if he knew that the maiden was in such\nperil, I marvel that he came not to her rescue. But if you will\naccept me in his stead, I will do battle with you.\" \"We will,\"\nsaid the youth.\n\nAnd they attacked Owain, and he was hard beset by them. And with\nthat, the lion came to Owain's assistance, and they two got the\nbetter of the young men And they said to him, \"Chieftain, it was\nnot agreed that we should fight save with thyself alone, and it is\nharder for us to contend with yonder animal than with thee.\" And\nOwain put the lion in the place where Luned had been imprisoned,\nand blocked up the door with stones. And he went to fight with the\nyoung men as before. But Owain had not his usual strength, and the\ntwo youths pressed hard upon him. And the lion roared incessantly\nat seeing Owain in trouble. And he brust through the wall, until\nhe found a way out, and rushed upon the young men and instantly\nslew them. So Luned was saved from being burned.\n\nThen Owain returned with Luned to the castle of the Lady of the\nFountain. And when he went thence, he took the Countess with him\nto Arthur's court, and she was his wife as long as she lived.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nGERAINT, THE SON OF ERBIN\n\n\nArthur was accustomed to hold his court at Caerleon upon Usk. And\nthere he held it seven Easters and five Christmases. And once upon\na time he held his court there at Whitsuntide. For Caerleon was\nthe place most easy of access in his dominions, both by sea and by\nland. And there were assembled nine crowned kings, who were his\ntributaries, and likewise earls and barons. For they were his\ninvited guests at all the high festivals, unless they were\nprevented by any great hinderatice. And when he was at Caerleon\nholding his court, thirteen churches were set apart for mass. And\nthus they were appointed: one church for Arthur and his kings, and\nhis guests; and the second for Guenever and her ladies; and the\nthird for the steward of the household and the suitors; and the\nfourth for the Franks and the other officers; and the other nine\nchurches were for the nine masters of the household, and chiefly\nfor Gawain, for he, from the eminence of his warlike fame, and\nfrom the nobleness of his birth, was the most exalted of the nine.\nAnd there was no other arrangement respecting the churches than\nthat which we have here mentioned.\n\nAnd on Whit-Tuesday, as the king sat at the banquet, lo, there\nentered a tall, fair-headed youth, clad in a coat and surcoat of\nsatin, and a golden-hilted sword about his neck, and low shoes of\nleather upon his feet. And he came and stood before Arthur. \"Hail\nto thee, lord,\" said he. \"Heaven prosper thee,\" he answered, \"and\nbe thou welcome. Dost thou bring any new tidings?\" \"I do, lord,\"\nhe said. \"I am one of thy foresters, lord, in the forest of Dean,\nand my name is Madoc, son of Turgadarn. In the forest I saw a\nstag, the like of which beheld I never yet.\" \"What is there about\nhim,\" asked Arthur, \"that thou never yet didst see his like?\" \"He\nis of pure white, lord, and he does not herd with any other\nanimal, through stateliness and pride, so royal is his bearing.\nAnd I come to seek thy counsel, lord, and to know thy will\nconcerning him.\" \"It seems best to me,\" said Arthur, \"to go and\nhunt him to-morrow at break of day, and to cause general notice\nthereof to be given to-night, in all quarters of the court.\"\n\n   \"For Arthur on the Whitsuntide before\n   Held court at old Caerleon upon Usk.\n   There on a day, he sitting high in hall,\n   Before him came a forester of Dean,\n   Wet from the woods, with notice of a hart\n\n   Taller than all his fellows, milky-white,\n   First seen that day: these things he told the king.\n   Then the good king gave order to let blow\n   His horns for hunting on the morrow morn.\"\n\n    --Enid.\n\nAnd Arryfuerys was Arthur's chief huntsman, and Arelivri his chief\npage. And all received notice; and thus it was arranged.\n\nThen Guenever said to Arthur, \"Wilt thou permit me, lord, to go\nto-morrow to see and hear the hunt of the stag of which the young\nman spoke?\" \"I will gladly,\" said Arthur. And Gawain said to\nArthur, \"Lord, if it seem well to thee, permit that into whose\nhunt soever the stag shall come, that one, be he a knight or one\non foot, may cut off his head, and give it to whom he pleases,\nwhether to his own lady-love, or to the lady of his friend.\" \"I\ngrant it gladly,\" said Arthur, \"and let the steward of the\nhousehold be chastised, if all things are not ready to-morrow for\nthe chase.\"\n\nAnd they passed the night with songs, and diversions, and\ndiscourse, and ample entertainment. And when it was time for them\nall to go to sleep, they went. And when the next day came, they\narose. And Arthur called the attendants who guarded his couch. And\nthere were four pages whose names were Cadyrnerth, the son of\nGandwy, and Ambreu, the son of Bedwor and Amhar, the son of Arthur\nand Goreu, the son of Custennin. And these men came to Arthur and\nsaluted him, and arrayed him in his garments. And Arthur wondered\nthat Guenever did not awake, and the attendants wished to awaken\nher. \"Disturb her not,\" said Arthur, \"for she had rather sleep\nthan go to see the hunting.\"\n\nThen Arthur went forth, and he heard two horns sounding, one from\nnear the lodging of the chief huntsman, and the other from near\nthat of the chief page. And the whole assembly of the multitudes\ncame to Arthur, and they took the road to the forest.\n\nAnd after Arthur had gone forth from the palace, Guenever awoke,\nand called to her maidens, and apparalled herself. \"Maidens,\" said\nshe, \"I had leave last night to go and see the hunt. Go one of you\nto the stable, and order hither a horse such as a woman may ride.\"\nAnd one of them went, and she found but two horses in the stable;\nand Guenever and one of her maidens mounted them, and went through\nthe Usk, and followed the track of the men and the horses. And as\nthey rode thus, they heard a loud and rushing sound; and they\nlooked behind them, and beheld a knight upon a hunter foal of\nmighty size. And the rider was a fairhaired youth, bare-legged,\nand of princely mien; and a golden-hilted sword was at his side,\nand a robe and a surcoat of satin were upon him, and two low shoes\nof leather upon his feet; and around him was a scarf of blue\npurple, at each corner of which was a golden apple.\n\n      \"For Prince Geraint,\n   Late also, wearing neither hunting-dress\n   Nor weapon, save a golden-hilted brand,\n   Came quickly flashing through the shallow ford.\"\n         --Enid.\n\nAnd his horse stepped stately, and swift, and proud; and he\novertook Guenever, and saluted her. \"Heaven prosper thee,\nGeraint,\" said she; \"and why didst thou not go with thy lord to\nhunt?\" \"Because I knew not when he went,\" said he. \"I marvel too,\"\nsaid she, \"how he could go, unknown to me. But thou, O young man,\nart the most agreeable companion I could have in the whole\nkingdom; and it may be I shall be more amused with the hunting\nthan they; for we shall hear the horns when they sound and we\nshall hear the dogs when they are let loose and begin to cry.\"\n\nSo they went to the edge of the forest, and there they stood.\n\"From this place,\" said she, \"we shall hear when the dogs are let\nloose.\" And thereupon they heard a loud noise; and they looked\ntowards the spot whence it came, and they beheld a dwarf riding\nupon a horse, stately and foaming and prancing and strong and\nspirited. And in the hand of the dwarf was a whip. And near the\ndwarf they saw a lady upon a beautiful white horse, of steady and\nstately pace; and she was clothed in a garment of gold brocade.\nAnd near her was a knight upon a war-horse of large size, with\nheavy and bright armor both upon himself and upon his horse. And\ntruly they never before saw a knight, or a horse, or armor, of\nsuch remarkable size.\n\n\"Geraint,\" said Guenever, \"knowest thou the name of that tall\nknight yonder?\" \"I know him not,\" said he, \"and the strange armor\nthat he wears prevents my either seeing his face or his features.\"\n\"Go, maiden,\" said Guenever, \"and ask the dwarf who that knight\nis.\" Then the maiden went up to the dwarf; and she inquired of the\ndwarf who the knight was. \"I will not tell thee,\" he answered.\n\"Since thou art so churlish,\" said she, \"I will ask him, himself.\"\n\"Thou shalt not ask him, by my faith,\" said he. \"Wherefore not?\"\nsaid she. \"Because thou art not of honor sufficient to befit thee\nto speak to my lord.\" Then the maiden turned her horse's head\ntowards the knight, upon which the dwarf struck her with the whip\nthat was in his hand across the face and the eyes, so that the\nblood flowed forth. And the maiden returned to Guenever,\ncomplaining of the hurt she had received. \"Very rudely has the\ndwarf treated thee,\" said Geraint, and he put his hand upon the\nhilt of his sword. But he took counsel with himself, and\nconsidered that it would be no vengeance for him to slay the\ndwarf, and to be attacked unarmed by the armed knight; so he\nrefrained.\n\n\"Lady,\" said he, \"I will follow him, with thy permission, and at\nlast he will come to some inhabited place, where I may have arms,\neither as a loan or for a pledge, so that I may encounter the\nknight.\" \"Go,\" said she, \"and do not attack him until thou hast\ngood arms; and I shall be very anxious concerning thee, until I\nhear tidings of thee.\" \"If I am alive,\" said he, \"thou shalt hear\ntidings of me by to-morrow afternoon;\" and with that he departed.\n\nAnd the road they took was below the palace of Caerleon, and\nacross the ford of the Usk; and they went along a fair and even\nand lofty ridge of ground, until they came to a town, and at the\nextremity of the town they saw a fortress and a castle. And as the\nknight passed through the town all the people arose and saluted\nhim, and bade him welcome. And when Geraint came into the town, he\nlooked at every house to see if he knew any of those whom he saw.\nBut he knew none, and none knew him, to do him the kindness to let\nhim have arms, either as a loan or for a pledge. And every house\nhe saw was full of men, and arms, and horses. And they were\npolishing shields, and burnishing swords, and washing armor, and\nshoeing horses. And the knight and the lady and the dwarf rode up\nto the castle, that was in the town, and every one was glad in the\ncastle. And from the battlements and the gates they risked their\nnecks, through their eagerness to greet them, and to show their\njoy.\n\nGeraint stood there to see whether the knight would remain in the\ncastle; and when he was certain that he would do so, he looked\naround him. And at a little distance from the town he saw an old\npalace in ruins, wherein was a hall that was falling to decay.\n\n   \"And high above a piece of turret-stair,\n   Worn by the feet that now were silent, wound\n   Bare to the sun\"\n\n    --Enid.\n\nAnd as he knew not any one in the town, he went towards the old\npalace. And when he came near to the palace, he saw a hoary-headed\nman, standing by it, in tattered garments. And Geraint gazed\nsteadfastly upon him. Then the hoary-headed man said to him,\n\"Young man, wherefore art thou thoughtful?\" \"I am thoughtful,\"\nsaid he, \"because I know not where to pass the night.\" \"Wilt thou\ncome forward this way, chieftain,\" said he, \"and thou shalt have\nof the best that can be procured for thee.\" So Geraint went\nforward. And the hoary-headed man led the way into the hall. And\nin the hall he dismounted, and he left there his horse. Then he\nwent on to the upper chamber with the hoary-headed man. And in the\nchamber he beheld an old woman, sitting on a cushion, with old,\nworn-out garments upon her; yet it seemed to him that she must\nhave been comely when in the bloom of youth. And beside her was a\nmaiden, upon whom were a vest and a veil that were old and\nbeginning to be worn out. And truly he never saw a maiden more\nfull of comeliness and grace and beauty than she. And the hoary-\nheaded man said to the maiden, \"There is no attendant for the\nhorse of this youth but thyself.\" \"I will render the best service\nI am able,\" said she, \"both to him and to his horse.\" And the\nmaiden disarrayed the youth, and then she furnished his horse with\nstraw and corn; and then she returned to the chamber. And the\nhoary-headed man said to the maiden, \"Go to the town and bring\nhither the best that thou canst find, both of food and of liquor.\"\n\"I will gladly, lord,\" said she. And to the town went the maiden.\nAnd they conversed together while the maiden was at the town. And,\nbehold, the maiden came back, and a youth with her, bearing on his\nback a costrel full of good purchased mead, and a quarter of a\nyoung bullock. And in the hands of the maiden was a quantity of\nwhite bread, and she had some manchet bread in her veil, and she\ncame into the chamber. \"I would not obtain better than this,\" said\nshe, \"nor with better should I have been trusted.\" \"It is good\nenough,\" said Geraint. And they caused the meat to be boiled; and\nwhen their food was ready, they sat down. And it was in this wise.\nGeraint sat between the hoary-headed man and his wife, and the\nmaiden served them. And they ate and drank.\n\nAnd when they had finished eating, Geraint talked with the hoary-\nheaded man, and he asked him in the first place to whom belonged\nthe palace that he was in. \"Truly,\" said he, \"it was I that built\nit, and to me also belonged the city and the castle which thou\nsawest.\" \"Alas!\" said Geraint, \"how is it that thou hast lost them\nnow?\" \"I lost a great earldom as well as these,\" said he, \"and\nthis is how I lost them. I had a nephew, the son of my brother,\nand I took care of his possessions; but he was impatient to enter\nupon them, so he made war upon me, and wrested from me not only\nhis own, but also my estates, except this castle.\" \"Good sir,\"\nsaid Geraint, \"wilt thou tell me wherefore came the knight and the\nlady and the dwarf just now into the town, and what is the\npreparation which I saw, and the putting of arms in order?\" \"I\nwill do so,\" said he. \"The preparations are for the game that is\nto be held to-morrow by the young earl, which will be on this\nwise. In the midst of a meadow which is here, two forks will be\nset up, and upon the two forks a silver rod, and upon the silver\nrod a sparrow-hawk, and for the sparrow-hawk there will be a\ntournament. And to the tournament will go all the array thou didst\nsee in the city, of men and of horses and of arms. And with each\nman will go the lady he loves best; and no man can joust for the\nsparrow-hawk, except the lady he loves best be with him. And the\nknight that thou sawest has gained the sparrow-hawk these two\nyears; and if he gains it the third year, he will be called the\nKnight of the Sparrow-hawk from that time forth.\" \"Sir,\" said\nGeraint, \"what is thy counsel to me concerning this knight, on\naccount of the insult which the maiden of Guenever received from\nthe dwarf?\" And Geraint told the hoary-headed man what the insult\nwas that the maiden had received. \"It is not easy to counsel thee,\ninasmuch as thou hast neither dame nor maiden belonging to thee,\nfor whom thou canst joust. Yet I have arms here, which thou\ncouldst have, and there is my horse also, if he seem to thee\nbetter than thine own.\" \"Ah, sir,\" said he, \"Heaven reward thee!\nBut my own horse to which I am accustomed, together with thine\narms, will suffice me. And if, when the appointed time shall come\nto-morrow thou wilt permit me, sir, to challenge for yonder maiden\nthat is thy daughter, I will engage, if I escape from the\ntournament, to love the maiden as long as I live.\" \"Gladly will I\npermit thee,\" said the hoary-headed man; \"and since thou dost thus\nresolve, it is necessary that thy horse and arms should be ready\nto-morrow at break of day. For then the Knight of the Sparrow-hawk\nwill make proclamation, and ask the lady he loves best to take the\nsparrow-hawk; and if any deny it to her, by force will he defend\nher claim. And therefore,\" said the hoary-headed man, \"it is\nneedful for thee to be there at daybreak, and we three will be\nwith thee.\" And thus was it settled.\n\nAnd at night they went to sleep. And before the dawn they arose\nand arrayed themselves; and by the time that it was day, they were\nall four in the meadow. And there was the Knight of the Sparrow-\nhawk making the proclamation, and asking his lady-love to take the\nsparrow-hawk. \"Take it not,\" said Geraint, \"for here is a maiden\nwho is fairer, and more noble, and more comely, and who has a\nbetter claim to it than thou.\" Then said the knight, \"If thou\nmaintainest the sparrow-hawk to be due to her, come forward and do\nbattle with me.\" And Geraint went forward to the top of the\nmeadow, having upon himself and upon his horse armor which was\nheavy and rusty, and of uncouth shape. Then they encountered each\nother, and they broke a set of lances; and they broke a second\nset, and a third. And when the earl and his company saw the Knight\nof the Sparrow-hawk gaining the mastery, there was shouting and\njoy and mirth amongst them; and the hoary-headed man and his wife\nand his daughter were sorrowful. And the hoary-headed man served\nGeraint with lances as often as he broke them, and the dwarf\nserved the Knight of the Sparrow-hawk. Then the hoary-headed man\nsaid to Geraint, \"O chieftain, since no other will hold with thee,\nbehold, here is the lance which was in my hand on the day when I\nreceived the honor of knighthood, and from that time to this I\nnever broke it, and it has an excellent point.\" Then Geraint took\nthe lance, thanking the hoary-headed man. And thereupon the dwarf\nalso brought a lance to his lord. \"Behold, here is a lance for\nthee, not less good than his,\" said the dwarf. \"And bethink thee\nthat no knight ever withstood thee so long as this one has done.\"\n\"I declare to Heaven,\" said Geraint, \"that unless death takes me\nquickly hence, he shall fare never the better for thy service.\"\nAnd Geraint pricked his horse towards him from afar, and, warning\nhim, he rushed upon him, and gave him a blow so severe, and\nfurious, and fierce, upon the face of his shield, that he cleft it\nin two, and broke his armor, and burst his girths, so that both he\nand his saddle were borne to the ground over the horse's crupper.\nAnd Geraint dismounted quickly. And he was wroth, and he drew his\nsword, and rushed fiercely upon him. Then the knight also arose,\nand drew his sword against Geraint. And they fought on foot with\ntheir swords until their arms struck sparks of fire like stars\nfrom one another; and thus they continued fighting until the blood\nand sweat obscured the light from their eyes. At length Geraint\ncalled to him all his strength, and struck the knight upon the\ncrown of his head, so that he broke all his head-armor, and cut\nthrough all the flesh and the skin, even to the skull, until he\nwounded the bone.\n\nThen the knight fell upon his knees, and cast his sword from his\nhand, and besought mercy from Geraint. \"Of a truth,\" said he, \"I\nrelinquish my overdaring and my pride, and crave thy mercy; and\nunless I have time to commit myself to Heaven for my sins, and to\ntalk with a priest, thy mercy will avail me little.\" \"I will grant\nthee grace upon this condition,\" said Geraint, \"that thou go to\nGuenever, the wife of Arthur, to do her satisfaction for the\ninsult which her maiden received from thy dwarf. Dismount not from\nthe time thou goest hence until thou comest into the presence of\nGuenever, to make her what atonement shall be adjudged at the\ncourt of Arthur.\" \"This will I do gladly; and who art thou?\" \"I am\nGeraint, the son of Erbin; and declare thou also who thou art.\" \"I\nam Edeym, the son of Nudd.\" Then he threw himself upon his horse,\nand went forward to Arthur's court; and the lady he loved best\nwent before him, and the dwarf, with much lamentation.\n\nThen came the young earl and his hosts to Geraint, and saluted\nhim, and bade him to his castle. \"I may not go,\" said Geraint;\n\"but where I was last night, there will I be to-night also.\"\n\"Since thou wilt none of my inviting, thou shalt have abundance of\nall that I can command for thee; and I will order ointment for\nthee, to recover thee from thy fatigues, and from the weariness\nthat is upon thee.\" \"Heaven reward thee,\" said Geraint, \"and I\nwill go to my lodging.\" And thus went Geraint and Earl Ynywl, and\nhis wife and his daughter. And when they reached the old mansion,\nthe household servants and attendants of the young earl had\narrived, and had arranged all the apartments, dressing them with\nstraw and with fire; and in a short time the ointment was ready,\nand Geraint came there, and they washed his head. Then came the\nyoung earl, with forty honorable knights from among his\nattendants, and those who were bidden to the tournament. And\nGeraint came from the anointing. And the earl asked him to go to\nthe hall to eat. \"Where is the Earl Ynywl,\" said Geraint, \"and his\nwife and his daughter?\" \"They are in the chamber yonder,\" said the\nearl's chamberlain, \"arraying themselves in garments which the\nearl has caused to be brought for them.\" \"Let not the damsel array\nherself,\" said he, \"except in her vest and her veil, until she\ncome to the court of Arthur, to be clad by Guenever in such\ngarments as she may choose.\" So the maiden did not array herself.\n\nThen they all entered the hall, and they washed, and sat down to\nmeat. And thus were they seated. On one side of Geraint sat the\nyoung earl, and Earl Ynywl beyond him, and on the other side of\nGeraint was the maiden and her mother. And after these all sat\naccording to their precedence in honor. And they ate. And they\nwere served abundantly, and they received a profusion of divers\nkinds of gifts. Then they conversed together. And the young earl\ninvited Geraint to visit him next day. \"I will not, by Heaven,\"\nsaid Geraint. \"To the court of Arthur will I go with this maiden\nto-morrow. And it is enough for me, as long as Earl Ynywl is in\npoverty and trouble; and I go chiefly to seek to add to his\nmaintenance.\" \"Ah, chieftain,\" said the young earl, \"it is not by\nmy fault that Earl Ynywl is without his possessions.\" \"By my\nfaith,\" said Geraint, \"he shall not remain without them, unless\ndeath quickly takes me hence.\" \"O chieftain,\" said he, \"with\nregard to the disagreement between me and Ynywl, I will gladly\nabide by thy counsel, and agree to what thou mayest judge right\nbetween us.\" \"I but ask thee,\" said Geraint, \"to restore to him\nwhat is his, and what he should have received from the time he\nlost his possessions even until this day.\" \"That will I do,\ngladly, for thee,\" answered he. \"Then,\" said Geraint, \"whosoever\nis here who owes homage to Ynywl, let him come forward, and\nperform it on the spot.\" And all the men did so; and by that\ntreaty they abided. And his castle and his town, and all his\npossessions, were restored to Ynywl. And he received back all that\nhe had lost, even to the smallest jewel.\n\nThen spoke Earl Ynywl to Geraint. \"Chieftain,\" said he, \"behold\nthe maiden for whom thou didst challenge at the tournament; I\nbestow her upon thee.\" \"She shall go with me,\" said Geraint, \"to\nthe court of Arthur, and Arthur and Guenever, they shall dispose\nof her as they will.\" And the next day they proceeded to Arthur's\ncourt. So far concerning Geraint.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nGERAINT, THE SON OF ERBIN (Continued)\n\n\nNow this is how Arthur hunted the stag. The men and the dogs were\ndivided into hunting-parties, and the dogs were let loose upon the\nstag. And the last dog that was let loose was the favorite dog of\nArthur; Cavall was his name. And he left all the other dogs behind\nhim and turned the stag. And at the second turn the stag came\ntoward the hunting-party of Arthur. And Arthur set upon him; and\nbefore he could be slain by any other, Arthur cut off his head.\nThen they sounded the death-horn for slaying and they all gathered\nround.\n\nThey came Kadyriath to Arthur and spoke to him. \"Lord,\" said he,\n\"behold, yonder is Guenever, and none with her save only one\nmaiden.\" \"Command Gildas, the son of Caw, and all the scholars of\nthe court,\" said Arthur, \"to attend Guenever to the palace.\" And\nthey did so.\n\nThen they all set forth, holding converse together concerning the\nhead of the stag, to whom it should be given. One wished that it\nshould be given to the lady best beloved by him, and another to\nthe lady whom he loved best. And so they came to the palace. And\nwhen Arthur and Guenever heard them disputing about the head of\nthe stag, Guenever said to Arthur: \"My lord, this is my counsel\nconcerning the stag's head; let it not be given away until\nGeraint, the son of Erbin, shall return from the errand he is\nupon.\" And Guenever told Arthur what that errand was. \"Right\ngladly shall it be so,\" said Arthur. And Guenever caused a watch\nto be set upon the ramparts for Geraint's coming. And after midday\nthey beheld an unshapely little man upon a horse, and after him a\ndame or a damsel, also on horseback, and after her a knight of\nlarge stature, bowed down, and hanging his head low and\nsorrowfully, and clad in broken and worthless armor.\n\nAnd before they came near to the gate one of the watch went to\nGuenever, and told her what kind of people they saw, and what\naspect they bore. \"I know not who they are,\" said he, \"But I\nknow,\" said Guenever; \"this is the knight whom Geraint pursued,\nand methinks that he comes not here by his own free will. But\nGeraint has overtaken him, and avenged the insult to the maiden to\nthe uttermost.\" And thereupon, behold, a porter came to the spot\nwhere Guenever was. \"Lady,\" said he, \"at the gate there is a\nknight, and I saw never a man of so pitiful an aspect to look upon\nas he. Miserable and broken is the armor that he wears, and the\nhue of blood is more conspicuous upon it than its own color.\"\n\"Knowest thou his name?\" said she. \"I do,\" said he; \"he tells me\nthat he is Edeyrn, the son of Nudd.\" Then she replied, \"I know him\nnot.\"\n\nSo Guenever went to the gate to meet him and he entered. And\nGuenever was sorry when she saw the condition he was in, even\nthough he was accompanied by the churlish dwarf. Then Edeyrn\nsaluted Guenever. \"Heaven protect thee,\" said she. \"Lady,\" said\nhe, \"Geraint, the son of Erbin, thy best and most valiant servant,\ngreets thee.\" \"Did he meet with thee?\" she asked. \"Yes,\" said he,\n\"and it was not to my advantage; and that was not his fault, but\nmine, lady. And Geraint greets thee well; and in greeting thee he\ncompelled me to come hither to do thy pleasure for the insult\nwhich thy maiden received from the dwarf.\" \"Now where did he\novertake thee?\" \"At the place where we were jousting and\ncontending for the sparrow-hawk, in the town which is now called\nCardiff. And it was for the avouchment of the love of the maiden,\nthe daughter of Earl Ynywl, that Geraint jousted at the\ntournament. And thereupon we encountered each other, and he left\nme, lady, as thou seest.\" \"Sir,\" said she, \"when thinkest thou\nthat Geraint will be here?\" \"To-morrow, lady, I think he will be\nhere with the maiden.\"\n\nThen Arthur came to them. And he saluted Arthur, and Arthur gazed\na long time upon him and was amazed to see him thus. And thinking\nthat he knew him, he inquired of him, \"Art thou Edeyrn, the son of\nNudd?\" \"I am, lord,\" said he, \"and I have met with much trouble\nand received wounds unsupportable.\" Then he told Arthur all his\nadventure. \"Well,\" said Arthur, \"from what I hear it behooves\nGuenever to be merciful towards thee.\" \"The mercy which thou\ndesirest, lord,\" said she. \"will I grant to him, since it is as\ninsulting to thee that an insult should be offered to me as to\nthyself.\" \"Thus will it be best to do,\" said Arthur; \"let this man\nhave medical care until it be known whether he may live. And if he\nlive, he shall do such satisfaction as shall be judged best by the\nmen of the court. And if he die, too much will be the death of\nsuch a youth as Edeyrn for an insult to a maiden.\" \"This pleases\nme,\" said Guenever. And Arthur caused Morgan Tud to be called to\nhim. He was the chief physician. \"Take with thee Edeyrn, the son\nof Nudd, and cause a chamber to be prepared for him, and let him\nhave the aid of medicine as thou wouldst do unto myself, if I were\nwounded, and let none into his chamber to molest him, but thyself\nand thy disciples, to administer to him remedies.\" \"I will do so,\ngladly, lord,\" said Morgan Tud. Then said the steward of the\nhousehold, \"Whither is it right, lord, to order the maiden?\" \"To\nGuenever and her handmaidens,\" said he. And the steward of the\nhousehold so ordered her.\n\n    \"And rising up, he rode to Arthur's court,\n    And there the queen forgave him easily.\n    And being young, he changed himself, and grew\n    To hate the sin that seem'd so like his own\n    Of Modred, Arthur's nephew, and fell at last\n    In the great battle fighting for the king.\"\n\n    --Enid.\n\nThe next day came Geraint towards the court; and there was a watch\nset on the ramparts by Guenever, lest he should arrive unawares.\nAnd one of the watch came to Guenever. \"Lady,\" said he, \"methinks\nthat I see Geraint, and a maiden with him. He is on horseback, but\nhe has his walking gear upon him, and the maiden appears to be in\nwhite, seeming to be clad in a garment of linen.\" \"Assemble all\nthe women,\" said Guenever, \"and come to meet Geraint, to welcome\nhim, and wish him joy.\" And Guenever went to meet Geraint and the\nmaiden. And when Geraint came to the place where Guenever was, he\nsaluted her. \"Heaven prosper thee,\" said she, \"and welcome to\nthee.\" \"Lady,\" said he, \"I earnestly desired to obtain thee\nsatisfaction, according to thy will; and, behold, here is the\nmaiden through whom thou hadst thy revenge.\" \"Verily,\" said\nGuenever, \"the welcome of Heaven be unto her; and it is fitting\nthat we should receive her joyfully.\" Then they went in and\ndismounted. And Geraint came to where Arthur was, and saluted him.\n\"Heaven protect thee,\" said Arthur, \"and the welcome of Heaven be\nunto thee. And inasmuch as thou hast vanquished Edeyrn, the son of\nNudd, thou hast had a prosperous career.\" \"Not upon me be the\nblame,\" said Geraint; \"it was through the arrogance of Edeyrn, the\nson of Nudd, himself, that we were not friends.\" \"Now,\" said\nArthur, \"where is the maiden for whom I heard thou didst give\nchallenge?\" \"She is gone with Guenever to her chamber.\" Then went\nArthur to see the maiden. And Arthur, and all his companions, and\nhis whole court, were glad concerning the maiden. And certain were\nthey all, that, had her array been suitable to her beauty, they\nhad never seen a maid fairer than she. And Arthur gave away the\nmaiden to Geraint. And the usual bond made between two persons was\nmade between Geraint and the maiden, and the choicest of all\nGuenever's apparel was given to the maiden; and thus arrayed, she\nappeared comely and graceful to all who beheld her. And that day\nand the night were spent in abundance of minstrelsy, and ample\ngifts of liquor, and a multiude of games. And when it was time for\nthem to go to sleep they went. And in the chamber where the couch\nof Arthur and Guenever was, the couch of Geraint and Enid was\nprepared. And from that time she became his wife. And the next day\nArthur satisfied all the claimants upon Geraint with bountiful\ngifts. And the maiden took up her abode in the palace, and she had\nmany companions, both men and women, and there was no maiden more\nesteemed than she in the island of Britain.\n\nThen spake Guenever. \"Rightly did I judge,\" said she, \"concerning\nthe head of the stag, that it should not be given to any until\nGeraint's return; and behold, here is a fit occasion for bestowing\nit. Let it be given to Enid, the daughter of Ynywl, the most\nillustrious maiden. And I do not believe that any will begrudge it\nher, for between her and every one here there exists nothing but\nlove and friendship.\" Much applauded was this by them all, and by\nArthur also. And the head of the stag was given to Enid. And\nthereupon her fame increased, and her friends became more in\nnumber than before. And Geraint from that time forth loved the\nhunt, and the tournament, and hard encounters; and he came\nvictorious from them all. And a year, and a second, and a third,\nhe proceeded thus, until his fame had flown over the face of the\nkingdom.\n\nAnd, once upon a time, Arthur was holding his court at Caerleon\nupon Usk; and behold, there came to him ambassadors, wise and\nprudent, full of knowledge and eloquent of speech, and they\nsaluted Arthur. \"Heaven prosper you!\" said Arthur; \"and whence do\nyou come?\" \"We come, lord,\" said they, \"from Cornwall; and we are\nambassadors from Erbin, the son of Custennin, thy uncle, and our\nmission is unto thee. And he greets thee well, as an uncle should\ngreet his nephew, and as a vassal should greet his lord. And he\nrepresents unto thee that he waxes heavy and feeble, and is\nadvancing in years. And the neighboring chiefs, knowing this, grow\ninsolent towards him, and covet his land and possessions. And he\nearnestly beseeches thee, lord, to permit Geraint, his son, to\nreturn to him, to protect his possessions, and to become\nacquainted with his boundaries. And unto him he represents that it\nwere better for him to spend the flower of his youth and the prime\nof his age in preserving his own boundaries, than in tournaments\nwhich are productive of no profit, although he obtains glory in\nthem.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Arthur, \"go and divest yourselves of your\naccoutrements, and take food, and refresh yourselves after your\nfatigues; and before you go from hence you shall have an answer.\"\nAnd they went to eat. And Arthur considered that it would go hard\nwith him to let Geraint depart from him, and from his court;\nneither did he think it fair that his cousin should be restrained\nfrom going to protect his dominions and his boundaries, seeing\nthat his father was unable to do so. No less was the grief and\nregret of Guenever, and all her women, and all her damsels,\nthrough fear that the maiden would leave them. And that day and\nthat night were spent in abundance of feasting. And Arthur told\nGeraint the cause of the mission, and of the coming of the\nambassadors to him out of Cornwall. \"Truly,\" said Geraint, \"be it\nto my advantage or disadvantage, lord, I will do according to thy\nwill concerning this embassy.\" \"Behold,\" said Arthur, \"though it\ngrieves me to part with thee, it is my counsel that thou go to\ndwell in thine own dominions, and to defend thy boundaries, and\ntake with thee to accompany thee as many as thou wilt of those\nthou lovest best among my faithful ones, and among thy friends,\nand among thy companions in arms.\" \"Heaven reward thee! and this\nwill I do,\" said Geraint. \"What discourse,\" said Guenever, \"do I\nhear between you? Is it of those who are to conduct Geraint to his\ncountry?\" \"It is,\" said Arthur. \"Then is it needful for me to\nconsider,\" said she, \"concerning companions and a provision for\nthe lady that is with me.\" \"Thou wilt do well,\" said Arthur.\n\nAnd that night they went to sleep. And the next day the\nambassadors were permitted to depart, and they were told that\nGeraint should follow them. And on the third day Geraint set\nforth, and many went with him--Gawain, the son of Gwyar, and\nRiogoned, the son of the king of Ireland, and Ondyaw, the son of\nthe Duke of Burgundy, Gwilim, the son of the ruler of the Franks,\nHowel, the son of the Earl of Brittany, Perceval, the son of\nEvrawk, Gwyr, a judge in the court of Arthur, Bedwyr, the son of\nBedrawd, Kai, the son of Kyner, Odyar, the Frank, and Ederyn, the\nson of Nudd. Said Geraint, \"I think I shall have enough of\nknighthood with me.\" And they set forth. And never was there seen\na fairer host journeying towards the Severn. And on the other side\nof the Severn were the nobles of Erbin, the son of Custennin, and\nhis foster-father at their head, to welcome Geraint with gladness;\nand many of the women of the court, with his mother, came to\nreceive Enid, the daughter of Ynywl, his wife. And there was great\nrejoicing and gladness throughout the whole court, and through all\nthe country, concerning Geraint, because of the greatness of their\nlove to him, and of the greatness of the fame which he had gained\nsince he went from amongst them, and because he was come to take\npossession of his dominions, and to preserve his boundaries. And\nthey came to the court. And in the court they had ample\nentertainment, and a multitude of gifts, and abundance of liquor,\nand a sufficiency of service, and a variety of games. And to do\nhonor to Geraint, all the chief men of the country were invited\nthat night to visit him. And they passed that day and that night\nin the utmost enjoyment. And at dawn next day Erbin arose and\nsummoned to him Geraint, and the noble persons who had borne him\ncompany. And he said to Geraint: \"I am a feeble and an aged man,\nand whilst I was able to maintain the dominion for thee and for\nmyself, I did so. But thou art young, and in the flower of thy\nvigor and of thy youth. Henceforth do thou preserve thy\npossessions.\" \"Truly,\" said Geraint, \"with my consent thou shalt\nnot give the power over thy dominions at this time into my hands,\nand thou shalt not take me from Arthur's court.\" \"Into thy hands\nwill I give them,\" said Erbin, \"and this day also shalt thou\nreceive the homage of thy subjects.\"\n\nThen said Gawain, \"It were better for thee to satisfy those who\nhave boons to ask, to-day, and to-morrow thou canst receive the\nhomage of thy dominions.\" So all that had boons to ask were\nsummoned into one place. And Kadyriath came to them to know what\nwere their requests. And every one asked that which he desired.\nAnd the followers of Arthur began to make gifts, and immediately\nthe men of Cornwall came, and gave also. And they were not long in\ngiving, so eager was every one to bestow gifts, and of those who\ncame to ask gifts, none departed unsatisfied. And that day and\nthat night were spent in the utmost enjoyment.\n\nAnd the next day at dawn, Erbin desired Geraint to send messengers\nto the men to ask them whether it was displeasing to them that he\nshould come to receive their homage, and whether they had anything\nto object to him. Then Geraint sent ambassadors to the men of\nCornwall to ask them this. And they all said that it would be the\nfulness of joy and honor to them for Geraint to come and receive\ntheir homage. So he received the homage of such as were there. And\nthe day after the followers of Arthur intended to go away. \"It is\ntoo soon for you to go away yet,\" said he; \"stay with me until I\nhave finished receiving the homage of my chief men, who have\nagreed to come to me.\" And they remained with him until he had\ndone so. Then they set forth towards the court of Arthur. And\nGeraint went to bear them company, and Enid also, as far as\nDiganwy; there they parted. And Ondyaw, the son of the Duke of\nBurgundy, said to Geraint, \"Go, now, and visit the uttermost parts\nof thy dominions, and see well to the boundaries of thy\nterritories; and if thou hast any trouble respecting them, send\nunto thy companions.\" \"Heaven reward thee!\" said Geraint; \"and\nthis will I do.\" And Geraint journeyed to the uttermost parts of\nhis dominions. And experienced guides, and the chief men of his\ncountry, went with him. And the furthermost point that they showed\nhim he kept possession of.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nGERAINT, THE SON OF ERBIN (Continued)\n\n\nGeraint, as he had been used to do when he was at Arthur's court,\nfrequented tournaments. And he became acquainted with valiant and\nmighty men, until he had gained as much fame there as he had\nformerly done elsewhere. And he enriched his court, and his\ncompanions, and his nobles, with the best horses and the best\narms, and with the best and most valuable jewels, and he ceased\nnot until his fame had flown over the face of the whole kingdom.\n\n   \"Before Geraint, the scourge of the enemy,\n    I saw steeds white with foam,\n    And after the shout of battle a fearful torrent.\"\n\n    --Hen.\n\nWhen he knew that it was thus, he began to love ease and pleasure,\nfor there was no one who was worth his opposing. And he loved his\nwife, and liked to continue in the palace with minstrelsy and\ndiversions. So he began to shut himself up in the chamber of his\nwife, and he took no delight in anything besides, insomuch that he\ngave up the friendship of his nobles, together with his hunting\nand his amusements, and lost the hearts of all the host in his\ncourt. And there was murmuring and scoffing concerning him among\nthe inhabitants of the palace, on account of his relinquishing so\ncompletely their companionship for the love of his wife.\n\n                                     \"They\n    Began to scoff and jeer and babble of him\n    As of a prince whose manhood was all gone,\n    And molten down in mere uxoriousness.\"\n\nThese tidings came to Erbin. And when Erbin had heard these\nthings, he spoke unto Enid, and inquired of her whether it was she\nthat had caused Geraint to act thus, and to forsake his people and\nhis hosts. \"Not I, by my confession unto Heaven,\" said she; \"there\nis nothing more hateful unto me than this.\" And she knew not what\nshe should do, for, although it was hard for her to own this to\nGeraint, yet was it not more easy for her to listen to what she\nheard, without warning Geraint concerning it. And she was very\nsorrowful.\n\nOne morning in the summer-time they were upon their couch, and\nGeraint lay upon the edge of it. And Enid was without sleep in the\napartment, which had windows of glass; [Footnote: The terms of\nadmiration in which the older writers invariably speak of GLASS\nWINDOWS would be sufficient proof, if other evidence were wanting,\nhow rare an article of luxury they were in the houses of our\nancestors. They were first introduced in ecclesiastical\narchitecture, to which they were for a long time confined. Glass\nis said not to have been employed in domestic architecture before\nthe fourteenth century.] and the sun shone upon the couch. And the\nclothes had slipped from off his arms and his breast, and he was\nasleep. Then she gazed upon the marvellous beauty of his\nappearance, and she said, \"Alas! and am I the cause that these\narms and this breast have lost their glory, and the warlike fame\nwhich they once so richly enjoyed!\" As she said this the tears\ndropped from her eyes, and they fell upon his breast. And the\ntears she shed and the words she had spoken, awoke him. And\nanother thing contributed to awaken him, and that was the idea\nthat it was not in thinking of him that she spoke thus, but that\nit was because she loved some other man more than him, and that\nshe wished for other society. Thereupon Geraint was troubled in\nhis mind, and he called his squire; and when he came to him, \"Go\nquickly,\" said he, \"and prepare my horse and my arms, and make\nthem ready. And do thou rise,\" said he to Enid, \"and apparel\nthyself; and cause thy horse to be accoutred, and clothe thee in\nthe worst riding-dress that thou hast in thy possession. And evil\nbetide me,\" said he, \"if thou returnest here until thou knowest\nwhether I have lost my strength so completely as thou didst say.\nAnd if it be so, it will then be easy for thee to seek the society\nthou didst wish for of him of whom thou wast thinking.\" So she\narose, and clothed herself in her meanest garments. \"I know\nnothing, lord,\" said she, \"of thy meaning.\" \"Neither wilt thou\nknow at this time,\" said he.\n\nThen Geraint went to see Erbin. \"Sir,\" said he, \"I am going upon a\nquest, and I am not certain when I may come back. Take heed,\ntherefore, unto thy possessions until my return.\" \"I will do so,\"\nsaid he; \"but it is strange to me that thou shouldst go so\nsuddenly. And who will proceed with thee, since thou art not\nstrong enough to traverse the land of Loegyr alone?\" \"But one\nperson only will go with me.\" \"Heaven counsel thee, my son,\" said\nErbin, \"and may many attach themselves to thee in Loegyr.\" Then\nwent Geraint to the place where his horse was, and it was equipped\nwith foreign armor, heavy and shining. And he desired Enid to\nmount her horse, and to ride forward, and to keep a long way\nbefore him. \"And whatever thou mayst see, and whatever thou mayst\nhear concerning me,\" said he, \"do thou not turn back. And unless I\nspeak unto thee, say not thou one word, either.\" So they set\nforward. And he did not choose the pleasantest and most frequented\nroad, but that which was the wildest and most beset by thieves and\nrobbers and venomous animals.\n\nAnd they came to a high road, which they followed till they saw a\nvast forest; and they saw four armed horsemen come forth from the\nforest. When the armed men saw them, they said one to another.\n\"Here is a good occasion for us to capture two horses and armor,\nand a lady likewise; for this we shall have no difficulty in doing\nagainst yonder single knight who hangs his head so pensively and\nheavily.\" Enid heard this discourse, and she knew not what she\nshould do through fear of Geraint, who had told her to be silent.\n\"The vengeance of Heaven be upon me,\" said she, \"if I would not\nrather receive my death from his hand than from the hand of any\nother; and though he should slay me, yet will I speak to him, lest\nI should have the misery to witness his death.\" So she waited for\nGeraint until he came near to her. \"Lord,\" said she, \"didst thou\nhear the words of those men concerning thee?\" Then he lifted up\nhis eyes, and looked at her angrily. \"Thou hadst only,\" said he,\n\"to hold thy peace as I bade thee. I wish but for silence, and not\nfor warning. And though thou shouldst desire to see my defeat and\nmy death by the hands of those men, yet do I feel no dread.\" Then\nthe foremost of them couched his lance, and rushed upon Geraint.\nAnd he received him, and that not feebly. But he let the thrust go\nby him, while he struck the horseman upon the centre of his\nshield, in such a manner that his shield was split, and his armor\nbroken, so that a cubit's length of the shaft of Geraint's lance\npassed through his body, and sent him to the earth, the length of\nthe lance over his horse's crupper. Then the second horseman\nattacked him furiously, being wroth at the death of his companion.\nBut with one thrust Geraint overthrew him also, and killed him as\nhe had done the other. Then the third set upon him, and he killed\nhim in like manner. And thus also he slew the fourth. Sad and\nsorrowful was the maiden as she saw all this. Geraint dismounted\nhis horse, and took the arms of the men he had slain, and placed\nthem upon their saddles, and tied together the reins of their\nhorses; and he mounted his horse again. \"Behold what thou must\ndo,\" said he; \"take the four horses and drive them before thee,\nand proceed forward as I bade thee just now. And say not one word\nunto me, unless I speak first unto thee. And I declare unto\nHeaven,\" said he, \"if thou doest not thus, it will be to thy\ncost.\" \"I will do as far as I can, lord,\" said she, \"according to\nthy desire.\"\n\nSo the maiden went forward, keeping in advance of Geraint, as he\nhad desired her; and it grieved him as much as his wrath would\npermit, to see a maiden so illustrious as she having so much\ntrouble with the care of the horses. Then they reached a wood, and\nit was both deep and vast, and in the wood night overtook them.\n\"Ah, maiden,\" said he, \"it is vain to attempt proceeding forward.\"\n\"Well, lord,\" said she, \"whatever thou wishest, we will do.\" \"It\nwill be best for us,\" he answered, \"to rest and wait for the day,\nin order to pursue our journey.\" \"That we will, gladly,\" said she.\nAnd they did so. Having dismounted himself, he took her down from\nher horse. \"I cannot by any means refrain from sleep, through\nweariness,\" said he; \"do thou therefore watch the horses, and\nsleep not.\" \"I will, lord,\" said she. Then he went to sleep in his\narmor, and thus passed the night, which was not long at that\nseason. And when she saw the dawn of day appear, she looked around\nher to see if he were waking, and thereupon he woke. Then he\narose, and said unto her, \"Take the horses and ride on, and keep\nstraight on as thou didst yesterday.\" And they left the wood, and\nthey came to an open country, with meadows on one hand, and mowers\nmowing the meadows. And there was a river before them, and the\nhorses bent down and drank of the water. And they went up out of\nthe river by a lofty steep; and there they met a slender stripling\nwith a satchel about his neck, and they saw that there was\nsomething in the satchel, but they knew not what it was. And he\nhad a small blue pitcher in his hand, and a bowl on the mouth of\nthe pitcher. And the youth saluted Geraint. \"Heaven prosper thee!\"\nsaid Geraint; \"and whence dost thou come?\" \"I come,\" said he,\n\"from the city that lies before thee. My lord,\" he added, \"will it\nbe displeasing to thee if I ask whence thou comest also?\" \"By no\nmeans; through yonder wood did I come.\" \"Thou camest not through\nthe wood to-day.\" \"No,\" he replied, \"we were in the wood last\nnight.\" \"I warrant,\" said the youth, \"that thy condition there\nlast night was not the most pleasant, and that thou hadst neither\nmeat nor drink.\" \"No, by my faith,\" said he. \"Wilt thou follow my\ncounsel,\" said the youth, \"and take thy meal from me?\" \"What sort\nof meal?\" he inquired. \"The breakfast which is sent for yonder\nmowers, nothing less than bread and meat and wine, and if thou\nwilt, sir, they shall have none of it.\" \"I will,\" said he, \"and\nHeaven reward thee for it.\"\n\nSo Geraint alighted, and the youth took the maiden from off her\nhorse. Then they washed, and took their repast. And the youth cut\nthe bread in slices, and gave them drink, and served them withal.\nAnd when they had finished, the youth arose and said to Geraint,\n\"My lord, with thy permission, I will now go and fetch some food\nfor the mowers.\" \"Go first to the town,\" said Geraint, \"and take a\nlodging for me in the best place that thou knowest, and the most\ncommodious one for the horses; and take thou whichever horse and\narms thou choosest, in payment for thy service and thy gift.\"\n\"Heaven reward thee, lord!\" said the youth; \"and this would be\nample to repay services much greater than those I have rendered\nunto thee.\" And to the town went the youth, and he took the best\nand the most pleasant lodgings that he knew; and after that he\nwent to the palace, having the horse and armor with him, and\nproceeded to the place where the earl was, and told him all his\nadventure. \"I go now, lord,\" said he, \"to meet the knight, and to\nconduct him to his lodging.\" \"Go, gladly,\" said the earl; \"and\nright joyfully shall he be received here, if he so come.\" And the\nyouth went to meet Geraint, and told him that he would be received\ngladly by the earl in his own palace; but he would go only to his\nlodgings. And he had a goodly chamber, in which was plenty of\nstraw and drapery, and a spacious and commodious place he had for\nthe horses; and the youth prepared for them plenty of provender.\nAfter they had disarrayed themselves, Geraint spoke thus to Enid:\n\"Go,\" said he, \"to the other side of the chamber, and come not to\nthis side of the house; and thou mayst call to thee the woman of\nthe house, if thou wilt.\" \"I will do, lord,\" said she, \"as thou\nsayest.\" Thereupon the man of the house came to Geraint and\nwelcomed him. And after they had eaten and drank, Geraint went to\nsleep, and so did Enid also.\n\nIn the evening, behold, the earl came to visit Geraint, and his\ntwelve honorable knights with him. And Geraint rose up and\nwelcomed him. Then they all sat down according to their precedence\nin honor. And the earl conversed with Geraint, and inquired of him\nthe object of his journey. \"I have none,\" he replied, \"but to seek\nadventures and to follow mine own inclination.\" Then the earl cast\nhis eye upon Enid, and he looked at her steadfastly. And he\nthought he had never seen a maiden fairer or more comely than she.\nAnd he set all his thoughts and his affections upon her. Then he\nasked of Geraint, \"Have I thy permission to go and converse with\nyonder maiden, for I see that she is apart from thee?\" \"Thou hast\nit gladly,\" said he. So the earl went to the place where the\nmaiden was, and spake with her. \"Ah! maiden,\" said he, \"it cannot\nbe pleasant to thee to journey with yonder man.\" \"It is not\nunpleasant to me,\" said she. \"Thou hast neither youths nor maidens\nto serve thee,\" said he. \"Truly,\" she replied, \"it is more\npleasant for me to follow yonder man, than to be served by youths\nand maidens.\" \"I will give thee good counsel,\" said he: \"all my\nearldom will I place in thy possession, if thou wilt dwell with\nme.\"\n\n   \"Enid, the pilot star of my lone life,\n    Enid, my early and my only love.\"\n\n    --Enid.\n\n\"That will I not, by Heaven,\" she said; \"yonder man was the first\nto whom my faith was ever pledged; and shall I prove inconstant to\nhim?\" \"Thou art in the wrong,\" said the earl; \"if I slay the man\nyonder, I can keep thee with me as long as I choose; and when thou\nno longer pleasest me, I can turn thee away. But if thou goest\nwith me by thy own good-will, I protest that our union shall\ncontinue as long as I remain alive.\" Then she pondered those words\nof his, and she considered that it was advisable to encourage him\nin his request. \"Behold then, chieftain, this is most expedient\nfor thee to do to save me from all reproach; come here to-morrow\nand take me away as though I knew nothing thereof.\" \"I will do\nso,\" said he. So he arose and took his leave, and went forth with\nhis attendants. And she told not then to Geraint any of the\nconversation which she had had with the earl, lest it should rouse\nhis anger, and cause him uneasiness and care.\n\nAnd at the usual hour they went to sleep. And at the beginning of\nthe night Enid slept a little; and at midnight she arose, and\nplaced all Geraint's armor together so that it might be ready to\nput on. And although fearful of her errand, she came to the side\nof Geraint's bed; and she spoke to him softly and gently, saying,\n\"My lord, arise, and clothe thyself, for these were the words of\nthe earl to me and his intention concerning me.\" So she told\nGeraint all that had passed. And although he was wroth with her,\nhe took warning, and clothed himself. And she lighted a candle,\nthat he might have light to do so. \"Leave there the candle,\" said\nhe, \"and desire the man of the house to come here.\" Then she went,\nand the man of the house came to him. \"Dost thou know how much I\nowe thee?\" asked Geraint. \"I think thou owest but little.\" \"Take\nthe three horses and the three suits of armor.\" \"Heaven reward\nthee, lord,\" said he, \"but I spent not the value of one suit of\narmor upon thee.\" \"For that reason,\" said he, \"thou wilt be the\nricher. And now, wilt thou come to guide me out of the town?\" \"I\nwill gladly,\" said he; \"and in which direction dost thou intend to\ngo?\" \"I wish to leave the town by a different way from that by\nwhich I entered it.\" So the man of the lodgings accompanied him as\nfar as he desired. Then he bade the maiden to go on before him,\nand she did so, and went straight forward, and his host returned\nhome.\n\nAnd Geraint and the maiden went forward along the high-road. And\nas they journeyed thus, they heard an exceeding loud wailing near\nto them. \"Stay thou here,\" said he, \"and I will go and see what is\nthe cause of this wailing.\" \"I will,\" said she. Then he went\nforward into an open glade that was near the road. And in the\nglade he saw two horses, one having a man's saddle, and the other\na woman's saddle upon it. And behold there was a knight lying dead\nin his armor, and a young damsel in a riding-dress standing over\nhim lamenting. \"Ah, lady,\" said Geraint, \"what hath befallen\nthee?\" \"Behold,\" she answered, \"I journeyed here with my beloved\nhusband, when lo! three giants came upon us, and without any cause\nin the world, they slew him.\" \"Which way went they hence?\" said\nGeraint. \"Yonder by the high-road,\" she replied. So he returned to\nEnid. \"Go,\" said he, \"to the lady that is below yonder, and await\nme there till I come.\" She was sad when he ordered her to do thus,\nbut nevertheless she went to the damsel, whom it was ruth to hear,\nand she felt certain that Geraint would never return.\n\nMeanwhile Geraint followed the giants, and overtook them. And each\nof them was greater in stature than three other men, and a huge\nclub was on the shoulder of each. Then he rushed upon one of them,\nand thrust his lance through his body. And having drawn it forth\nagain, he pierced another of them through likewise. But the third\nturned upon him and struck him with his club so that he split his\nshield and crushed his shoulder. But Geraint drew his sword and\ngave the giant a blow on the crown of his head, so severe, and\nfierce, and violent, that his head and his neck were split down to\nhis shoulders, and he fell dead. So Geraint left him thus and\nreturned to Enid. And when he reached the place where she was he\nfell down lifeless from his horse. Piercing and loud and thrilling\nwas the cry that Enid uttered. And she came and stood over him\nwhere he had fallen. And at the sound of her cries came the Earl\nof Limours, and they who journeyed with him, whom her lamentations\nbrought out of their road. And the earl said to Enid, \"Alas, lady,\nwhat hath befallen thee?\" \"Ah, good sir,\" said she, \"the only man\nI have loved, or ever shall love, is slain.\" Then he said to the\nother, \"And what is the cause of thy grief?\" \"They have slain my\nbeloved husband also,\" said she. \"And who was it that slew them?\"\n\"Some giants,\" she answered, \"slew my best-beloved, and the other\nknight went in pursuit of them, and came back in the state thou\nseest.\" The earl caused the knight that was dead to be buried, but\nhe thought that there still remained some life in Geraint; and to\nsee if he yet would live, he had him carried with him in the\nhollow of his shield, and upon a bier. And the two damsels went to\nthe court; and when they arrived there, Geraint was placed upon a\nlittle couch in front of the table that was in the hall. Then they\nall took off their traveling-gear, and the earl besought Enid to\ndo the same, and to clothe herself in other garments. \"I will not,\nby Heaven,\" said she. \"Ah, lady,\" said he, \"be not so sorrowful\nfor this matter.\" \"It were hard to persuade me to be otherwise,\"\nsaid she. \"I will act towards thee in such wise that thou needest\nnot be sorrowful, whether yonder knight live or die. Behold, a\ngood earldom, together with myself, will I bestow upon thee; be\ntherefore happy and joyful.\" \"I declare to Heaven,\" said she,\n\"that henceforth I shall never be joyful while I live.\" \"Come,\"\nsaid he, \"and eat.\" \"No, by Heaven, I will not.\" \"But, by Heaven,\nthou shalt,\" said he. So he took her with him to the table against\nher will, and many times desired her to eat. \"I call Heaven to\nwitness,\" said she, \"that I will not until the man that is upon\nyonder bier shall eat likewise.\" \"Thou canst not fulfil that,\"\nsaid the earl, \"yonder man is dead already.\" \"I will prove that I\ncan,\" said she. Then he offered her a goblet of liquor. \"Drink\nthis goblet,\" he said, \"and it will cause thee to change thy\nmind.\" \"Evil betide me,\" she answered, \"if I drink aught until he\ndrink also.\" \"Truly,\" said the earl, \"it is of no more avail for\nme to be gentle with thee than ungentle.\" And he gave her a box in\nthe ear. Thereupon she raised a loud and piercing shriek, and her\nlamentations were much greater than they had been before; for she\nconsidered in her mind, that, had Geraint been alive, he durst not\nhave struck her thus. But, behold, at the sound of her cry,\nGeraint revived from his swoon, and he sat upon the bier; and\nfinding his sword in the hollow of his shield, he rushed to the\nplace where the earl was, and struck him a fiercely-wounding,\nseverely-venomous, and sternly-smiting blow upon the crown of his\nhead, so that he clove him in twain, until his sword was staid by\nthe table. Then all left the board and fled away. And this was not\nso much through fear of the living, as through the dread they felt\nat seeing the dead man rise up to slay them. And Geraint looked\nupon Enid, and he was grieved for two causes; one was to see that\nEnid had lost her color and her wonted aspect; and the other, to\nknow that she was in the right. \"Lady,\" said he, \"knowest thou\nwhere our horses are?\" \"I know, lord, where thy horse is,\" she\nreplied, \"but I know not where is the other. Thy horse is in the\nhouse yonder.\" So he went to the house, and brought forth his\nhorse, and mounted him, and took up Enid, and placed her upon the\nhorse with him. And he rode forward. And their road lay between\ntwo hedges; and the night was gaining on the day. And lo! they saw\nbehind them the shafts of spears betwixt them and the sky, and\nthey heard the tramping of horses, and the noise of a host\napproaching. \"I hear something following us,\" said he, \"and I will\nput thee on the other side of the hedge.\" And thus he did. And\nthereupon, behold a knight pricked towards him, and couched his\nlance. When Enid saw this, she cried out, saying, \"O chieftain,\nwhoever thou art, what renown wilt thou gain by slaying a dead\nman?\" \"O Heaven!\" said he, \"is it Geraint?\" \"Yes, in truth,\" said\nshe; \"and who art thou?\" \"I am Gwiffert Petit,\" said he, \"thy\nhusband's ally, coming to thy assistance, for I heard that thou\nwast in trouble. Come with me to the court of a son-in-law of my\nsister, which is near here, and thou shalt have the best medical\nassistance in the kingdom.\" \"I will do so gladly,\" said Geraint.\nAnd Enid was placed upon the horse of one of Gwiffert's squires,\nand they went forward to the baron's palace. And they were\nreceived there with gladness, and they met with hospitality and\nattention. The next morning they went to seek physicians; and it\nwas not long before they came, and they attended Geraint until he\nwas perfectly well. And while Geraint was under medical care\nGwiffert caused his armor to be repaired, until it was as good as\nit had ever been. And they remained there a month and a fortnight.\nThen they separated, and Geraint went towards his own dominions,\nand thenceforth he reigned prosperously, and his warlike fame and\nsplendor lasted with renown and honor, both to him and to Enid,\nfrom that time forward.\n\n[Footnote: Throughout the broad and varied region of romance it\nwould be difficult to find a character of greater simplicity and\ntruth than that of Enid, the daughter of Earl Ynywl. Conspicuous\nfor her beauty and noble bearing, we are at a loss whether more to\nadmire the patience with which she bore all the hardships she was\ndestined to undergo or the constancy and affection which finally\nachieved the truimph she so richly deserved.\n\nThe character of Enid is admirably sustained through the whole\ntale; and as it is more natural, because less overstrained, so\nperhaps it is even more touching than that of Griselda, over\nwhich, however, Chaucer has thrown a charm that leads us to forget\nthe improbability of her story.]\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nPWYLL, PRINCE OF DYVED\n\n\nOnce upon a time Pwyll was at Narberth, his chief palace, where a\nfeast had been prepared for him, and with him was a great host of\nmen. And after the first meal Pwyll arose to walk; and he went to\nthe top of a mound that was above the palace, and was called\nGorsedd Arberth. \"Lord,\" said one of the court, \"it is peculiar to\nthe mound that whosoever sits upon it cannot go thence without\neither receiving wounds or blows, or else seeing a wonder.\" \"I\nfear not to receive wounds or blows,\" said Pwyll; \"but as to the\nwonder, gladly would I see it. I will therefore go and sit upon\nthe mound.\"\n\nAnd upon the mound he sat. And while he sat there, they saw a\nlady, on a pure white horse of large size, with a garment of\nshining gold around her, coming along the highway that led from\nthe mound. \"My men,\" said Pwyll, \"is there any among you who knows\nyonder lady?\" \"There is not, lord,\" said they. \"Go one of you and\nmeet her, that we may know who she is.\" And one of them arose, and\nas he came upon the road to meet her, she passed by; and he\nfollowed as fast as he could, being on foot, and the greater was\nhis speed, the further was she from him. And when he saw that it\nprofited him nothing to follow her, he returned to Pwyll, and said\nunto him, \"Lord, it is idle for any one in the world to follow her\non foot.\" \"Verily,\" said Pwyll, \"go unto the palace, and take the\nfleetest horse that thou seest, and go after her.\"\n\nAnd he took a horse and went forward. And he came to an open,\nlevel plain, and put spurs to his horse; and the more he urged his\nhorse, the further was she from him. And he returned to the place\nwhere Pwyll was, and said, \"Lord, it will avail nothing for any\none to follow yonder lady. I know of no horse in these realms\nswifter than this, and it availed me not to pursue her.\" \"Of a\ntruth,\" said Pwyll, \"there must be some illusion here; let us go\ntowards the palace.\" So to the palace they went, and spent the\nday.\n\nAnd the next day they amused themselves until it was time to go to\nmeat. And when meat was ended, Pwyll said, \"Where are the hosts\nthat went yesterday to the top of the mound?\" \"Behold, lord, we\nare here,\" said they. \"Let us go,\" said he, \"to the mound, and sit\nthere. And do thou,\" said he to the page who tended his horse,\n\"saddle my horse well, and hasten with him to the road, and bring\nalso my spurs with thee.\" And the youth did thus. And they went\nand sat upon the mound; and ere they had been there but a short\ntime, they beheld the lady coming by the same road, and in the\nsame manner, and at the same pace. \"Young man,\" said Pwyll, \"I see\nthe lady coming; give me my horse.\" And before he had mounted his\nhorse she passed him. And he turned after her and followed her.\nAnd he let his horse go bounding playfully, and thought that he\nshould soon come up with her. But he came no nearer to her than at\nfirst. Then he urged his horse to his utmost speed, yet he found\nthat it availed not. Then said Pwyll, \"O maiden, for the sake of\nhim whom thou best lovest, stay for me.\" \"I will stay gladly,\"\nsaid she; \"and it were better for thy horse hadst thou asked it\nlong since.\" So the maiden stopped; and she threw back that part\nof her head-dress which covered her face. Then he thought that the\nbeauty of all the maidens and all the ladies that he had ever seen\nwas as nothing compared to her beauty. \"Lady,\" he said, \"wilt thou\ntell me aught concerning thy purpose?\" \"I will tell thee,\" said\nshe; \"my chief quest was to see thee.\" \"Truly,\" said Pwyll, \"this\nis to me the most pleasing quest on which thou couldst have come;\nand wilt thou tell me who thou art?\" \"I will tell thee, lord,\"\nsaid she. \"I am Rhiannon, the daughter of Heveydd, and they sought\nto give me a husband against my will. But no husband would I have,\nand that because of my love for thee; neither will I yet have one,\nunless thou reject me; and hither have I come to hear thy answer.\"\n\"By Heaven,\" said Pwyll, \"behold this is my answer. If I might\nchoose among all the ladies and damsels in the world, thee would I\nchoose.\" \"Verily,\" said she, \"if thou art thus minded, make a\npledge to meet me ere I am given to another.\" \"The sooner I may do\nso, the more pleasing will it be to me,\" said Pwyll; \"and\nwheresoever thou wilt, there will I meet with thee.\" \"I will that\nthou meet me this day twelvemonth at the palace of Heveydd.\"\n\"Gladly,\" said he, \"will I keep this tryst.\" So they parted, and\nhe went back to his hosts, and to them of his household. And\nwhatsoever questions they asked him respecting the damsel, he\nalways turned the discourse upon other matters.\n\nAnd when a year from that time was gone, he caused a hundred\nknights to equip themselves, and to go with him to the palace of\nHeveydd. And he came to the palace, and there was great joy\nconcerning him, with much concourse of people, and great\nrejoicing, and vast preparations for his coming. And the whole\ncourt was placed under his orders.\n\nAnd the hall was garnished, and they went to meat, and thus did\nthey sit: Heveydd was on one side of Pwyll, and Rhiannon on the\nother; and all the rest according to their rank. And they ate and\nfeasted, and talked one with another. And at the beginning of the\ncarousal after the meat, there entered a tall, auburn-haired\nyouth, of royal bearing, clothed in a garment of satin. And when\nhe came into the hall, he saluted Pwyll and his companions. \"The\ngreeting of Heaven be unto thee,\" said Pwyll; \"come thou and sit\ndown.\" \"Nay,\" said he, \"a suitor am I, and I will do my errand.\"\n\"Do so willingly,\" said Pwyll. \"Lord,\" said he, \"my errand is unto\nthee, and it is to crave a boon of thee that I come.\" \"What boon\nsoever thou mayest ask of me, so far as I am able, thou shalt\nhave.\" \"Ah!\" said Rhiannon, \"wherefore didst thou give that\nanswer?\" \"Has he not given it before the presence of these\nnobles?\" asked the youth. \"My soul,\" said Pwyll, \"what is the boon\nthou askest?\" \"The lady whom best I love is to be thy bride this\nnight; I come to ask her of thee, with the feast and the banquet\nthat are in this place.\" And Pwyll was silent, because of the\npromise which he had given. \"Be silent as long as thou wilt,\" said\nRhiannon, \"never did man make worse use of his wits than thou hast\ndone.\" \"Lady,\" said he, \"I knew not who he was.\" \"Behold, this is\nthe man to whom they would have given me against my will,\" said\nshe; \"and he is Gawl, the son of Clud, a man of great power and\nwealth, and because of the word thou hast spoken, bestow me upon\nhim, lest shame befall thee.\" \"Lady,\" said he, \"I understand not\nthy answer; never can I do as thou sayest.\" \"Bestow me upon him,\"\nsaid she, \"and I will cause that I shall never be his.\" \"By what\nmeans will that be?\" asked Pwyll. Then she told him the thought\nthat was in her mind. And they talked long together. Then Gawl\nsaid, \"Lord, it is meet that I have an answer to my request.\" \"As\nmuch of that thou hast asked as it is in my power to give, thou\nshalt have,\" replied Pwyll. \"My soul,\" said Rhiannon unto Gawl,\n\"as for the feast and the banquet that are here, I have bestowed\nthem upon the men of Dyved, and the household and the warriors\nthat are with us. These can I not suffer to be given to any. In a\nyear from to-night, a banquet shall be prepared for thee in this\npalace, that I may become thy bride.\"\n\nSo Gawl went forth to his possessions, and Pwyll went also back to\nDyved. And they both spent that year until it was the time for the\nfeast at the palace of Heveydd. Then Gawl, the son of Clud, set\nout to the feast that was prepared for him; and he came to the\npalace, and was received there with rejoicing. Pwyll, also, the\nchief of Dyved, came to the orchard with a hundred knights, as\nRhiannon had commanded him. And Pwyll was clad in coarse and\nragged garments, and wore large, clumsy old shoes upon his feet.\nAnd when he knew that the carousal after the meat had begun, he\nwent toward the hall; and when he came into the hall he saluted\nGawl, the son of Clud, and his company, both men and women.\n\"Heaven prosper thee,\" said Gawl, \"and friendly greeting be unto\nthee!\" \"Lord,\" said he, \"may Heaven reward thee! I have an errand\nunto thee.\" \"Welcome be thine errand, and if thou ask of me that\nwhich is right, thou shalt have it gladly.\" \"It is fitting,\"\nanswered he; \"I crave but from want, and the boon I ask is to have\nthis small bag that thou seest filled with meat.\" \"A request\nwithin reason is this,\" said he, \"and gladly shalt thou have it.\nBring him food.\" A great number of attendants arose and began to\nfill the bag; but for all they put into it, it was no fuller than\nat first. \"My soul,\" said Gawl, \"will thy bag ever be full?\" \"It\nwill not, I declare to Heaven,\" said he, \"for all that may be put\ninto it, unless one possessed of lands, and domains, and treasure,\nshall arise and tread down with both his feet the food that is\nwithin the bag, and shall say, 'Enough has been put therein.'\"\nThen said Rhiannon unto Gawl, the son of Clud, \"Rise up quickly.\"\n\"I will willingly arise,\" said he. So he rose up, and put his two\nfeet into the bag. And Pwyll turned up the sides of the bag, so\nthat Gawl was over his head in it. And he shut it up quickly, and\nslipped a knot upon the thongs, and blew his horn. And thereupon,\nbehold, his knights came down upon the palace. And they seized all\nthe host that had come with Gawl, and cast them into his own\nprison. And Pwyll threw off his rags, and his old shoes, and his\ntattered array. And as they came in, every one of Pwyll's knights\nstruck a blow upon the bag, and asked, \"What is here?\" \"A badger,\"\nsaid they. And in this manner they played, each of them striking\nthe bag, either with his foot or with a staff. And thus played\nthey with the bag. And then was the game of Badger in the Bag\nfirst played.\n\n\"Lord,\" said the man in the bag, \"if thou wouldst but hear me, I\nmerit not to be slain in a bag.\" Said Heveydd, \"Lord, he speaks\ntruth; it were fitting that thou listen to him, for he deserves\nnot this.\" \"Verily,\" said Pwyll, \"I will do thy counsel concerning\nhim.\" \"Behold, this is my counsel then,\" said Rhiannon. \"Thou art\nnow in a position in which it behooves thee to satisfy suitors and\nminstrels. Let him give unto them in thy stead, and take a pledge\nfrom him that he will never seek to revenge that which has been\ndone to him. And this will be punishment enough.\" \"I will do this\ngladly,\" said the man in the bag. \"And gladly will I accept it,\"\nsaid Pwyll, \"since it is the counsel of Heveydd and Rhiannon. Seek\nthyself sureties.\" \"We will be for him,\" said Heveydd, \"until his\nmen be free to answer for him.\" And upon this he was let out of\nthe bag, and his liegemen were liberated. \"Verily, lord,\" said\nGawl, \"I am greatly hurt, and I have many bruises. With thy leave,\nI will go forth. I will leave nobles in my stead to answer for me\nin all that thou shalt require.\" \"Willingly,\" said Pwyll, \"mayest\nthou do this.\" So Gawl went to his own possessions.\n\nAnd the hall was set in order for Pwyll and the men of his host,\nand for them also of the palace, and they went to the tables and\nsat down. And as they had sat that time twelvemonth, so sat they\nthat night. And they ate and feasted, and spent the night in mirth\nand tranquility. And the time came that they should sleep, and\nPwyll and Rhiannon went to their chamber.\n\nAnd next morning at break of day, \"My lord,\" said Rhiannon, \"arise\nand begin to give thy gifts unto the minstrels. Refuse no one to-\nday that may claim thy bounty.\" \"Thus shall it be gladly,\" said\nPwyll, \"both to-day and every day while the feast shall last.\" So\nPwyll arose, and he caused silence to be proclaimed, and desired\nall the suitors and minstrels to show and to point out what gifts\nthey desired. And this being done, the feast went on, and he\ndenied no one while it lasted. And when the feast was ended, Pwyll\nsaid unto Heveydd, \"My lord, with thy permission, I will set out\nfor Dyved to-morrow.\" \"Certainly,\" said Heveydd; \"may Heaven\nprosper thee! Fix also a time when Rhiannon shall follow thee.\"\n\"By Heaven,\" said Pwyll, \"we will go hence together.\" \"Willest\nthou this, lord?\" said Heveydd. \"Yes, lord,\" answered Pwyll.\n\nAnd the next, day they set forward towards Dyved, and journeyed to\nthe palace of Narberth, where a feast was made ready for them. And\nthere came to them great numbers of the chief men and the most\nnoble ladies of the land, and of these there were none to whom\nRhiannon did not give some rich gift, either a bracelet, or a\nring, or a precious stone. And they ruled the land prosperously\nthat year and the next.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nBRANWEN, THE DAUGHTER OF LLYR\n\n\nBendigeid Vran, the son of Llyr, was the crowned king of this\nisland, and he was exalted from the crown of London. And one\nafternoon he was at Harlech, in Ardudwy, at his court; and he sat\nupon the rock of Harlech, looking over the sea. And with him were\nhis brother, Manawyddan, the son of Llyr, and his brothers by the\nmother's side, Nissyen and Evnissyen, and many nobles likewise, as\nwas fitting to see around a king. His two brothers by the mother's\nside were the sons of Euroswydd, and one of these youths was a\ngood youth, and of gentle nature, and would make peace between his\nkindred, and cause his family to be friends when their wrath was\nat the highest, and this one was Nissyen; but the other would\ncause strife between his two brothers when they were most at\npeace. And as they sat thus they beheld thirteen ships coming from\nthe south of Ireland, and making towards them; and they came with\na swift motion, the wind being behind them; and they neared them\nrapidly. \"I see ships afar,\" said the king, \"coming swiftly\ntowards the land. Command the men of the court that they equip\nthemselves, and go and learn their intent.\" So the men equipped\nthemselves, and went down towards them. And when they saw the\nships near, certain were they that they had never seen ships\nbetter furnished. Beautiful flags of satin were upon them. And,\nbehold, one of the ships outstripped the others, and they saw a\nshield lifted up above the side of the ship, and the point of the\nshield was upwards, in token of peace. And the men drew near, that\nthey might hold converse. Then they put out boats, and came toward\nthe land. And they saluted the king. Now the king could hear them\nfrom the place where he was upon the rock above their heads.\n\"Heaven prosper you.\" said he, \"and be ye welcome! To whom do\nthese ships belong, and who is the chief amongst you?\" \"Lord,\"\nsaid they, \"Matholch, king of Ireland, is here, and these ships\nbelong to him.\" \"Wherefore comes he?\" asked the king, \"and will he\ncome to the land?\" \"He is a suitor unto thee, lord,\" said they,\n\"and he will not land unless he have his boon.\" \"And what may that\nbe?\" inquired the king. \"He desires to ally himself, lord, with\nthee,\" said they, \"and he comes to ask Branwen, the daughter of\nLlyr, that, if it seem well to thee, the Island of the Mighty\n[Footnote: The Island of the Mighty is one of the many names\nbestowed upon Britain by the Welsh.] may be leagued with Ireland,\nand both become more powerful.\" \"Verily,\" said he, \"let him come\nto land, and we will take counsel thereupon.\" And this answer was\nbrought to Matholch. \"I will go willingly,\" said he. So he landed,\nand they received him joyfully; and great was the throng in the\npalace that night, between his hosts and those of the court; and\nnext day they took counsel, and they resolved to bestow Branwen\nupon Matholch. Now she was one of the three chief ladies of this\nisland, and she was the fairest damsel in the world.\n\nAnd they fixed upon Aberfraw as the place where she should become\nhis bride. And they went thence, and towards Aberfraw the hosts\nproceeded, Matholch and his host in their ships, Bendigeid Vran\nand his host by land, until they came to Aberfraw. And at Aberfraw\nthey began the feast, and sat down. And thus sat they: the king of\nthe Island of the Mighty and Manawyddan, the son of Llyr, on one\nside, and Matholch on the other side, and Branwen, the daughter of\nLlyr, beside him. And they were not within a house, but under\ntents. No house could ever contain Bendigeid Vran. And they began\nthe banquet, and caroused and discoursed. And when it was more\npleasing to them to sleep than to carouse, they went to rest, and\nBranwen became Matholch's bride.\n\nAnd next day they arose, and all they of the court, and the\nofficers began to equip, and to range the horses and the\nattendants, and they ranged them in order as far as the sea.\n\nAnd, behold, one day Evnissyen, the quarrelsome man, of whom it is\nspoken above, came by chance into the place where the horses of\nMatholch were, and asked whose horses they might be. \"They are the\nhorses of Matholch, king of Ireland, who is married to Branwen,\nthy sister; his horses are they.\" \"And is it thus they have done\nwith a maiden such as she, and moreover my sister, bestowing her\nwithout my consent? They could have offered no greater insult to\nme than this,\" said he. And thereupon he rushed under the horses,\nand cut off their lips at the teeth, and their ears close to their\nheads, and their tails close to their backs; and he disfigured the\nhorses, and rendered them useless.\n\nAnd they came with these tidings unto Matholch, saying that the\nhorses were disfigured and injured, so that not one of them could\never be of any use again. \"Verily, lord,\" said one, \"it was an\ninsult unto thee, and as such was it meant.\" \"Of a truth, it is a\nmarvel to me that, if they desire to insult me, they should have\ngiven me a maiden of such high rank, and so much beloved of her\nkindred, as they have done.\" \"Lord,\" said another, \"thou seest\nthat thus it is, and there is nothing for thee to do but to go to\nthy ships.\" And thereupon towards his ships he set out.\n\nAnd tidings came to Bendigeid Vran that Matholch was quitting the\ncourt without asking leave, and messengers were sent to inquire of\nhim wherefore he did so. And the messengers that went were Iddic,\nthe son of Anarawd, and Heveyd Hir. And these overtook him, and\nasked of him what he designed to do, and wherefore he went forth.\n\"Of a truth,\" said he, \"if I had known, I had not come hither. I\nhave been altogether insulted; no one had ever worse treatment\nthan I have had here.\" \"Truly, lord, it was not the will of any\nthat are of the court,\" said they, \"nor of any that are of the\ncouncil, that thou shouldst have received this insult; and as thou\nhast been insulted, the dishonor is greater unto Bendigeid Vran\nthan unto thee.\" \"Verily,\" said he, \"I think so. Nevertheless, he\ncannot recall the insult.\" These men returned with that answer to\nthe place where Bendigeid Vran was, and they told him what reply\nMatholch had given them. \"Truly,\" said he, \"there are no means by\nwhich we may prevent his going away at enmity with us that we will\nnot take.\" \"Well, lord,\" said they, \"send after him another\nembassy.\" \"I will do so,\" said he. \"Arise, Manawyddan, son of\nLlyr, and Heveyd Hir, and go after him, and tell him that he shall\nhave a sound horse for every one that has been injured. And beside\nthat, as an atonement for the insult, he shall have a staff of\nsilver as large and as tall as himself, and a plate of gold of the\nbreadth of his face. And show unto him who it was that did this,\nand that it was done against my will; but that he who did it is my\nbrother, and therefore it would be hard for me to put him to\ndeath. And let him come and meet me,\" said he, \"and we will make\npeace in any way he may desire.\"\n\nThe embassy went after Matholch, and told him all these sayings in\na friendly manner; and he listened thereunto. \"Men,\" said he, \"I\nwill take counsel.\" So to the council he went. And in the council\nthey considered that, if they should refuse this, they were likely\nto have more shame rather than to obtain so great an atonement.\nThey resolved, therefore, to accept it, and they returned to the\ncourt in peace.\n\nThen the pavilions and the tents were set in order, after the\nfashion of a hall; and they went to meat, and as they had sat at\nthe beginning of the feast so sat they there. And Matholch and\nBendigeid Vran began to discourse; and, behold, it seemed to\nBendigeid Vran, while they talked, that Matholch was not so\ncheerful as he had been before. And he thought that the chieftain\nmight be sad because of the smallness of the atonement which he\nhad for the wrong that had been done him. \"O man,\" said Bendigeid\nVran, \"thou dost not discourse to-night so cheerfully as thou wast\nwont. And if it be because of the smallness of the atonement, thou\nshalt add thereunto whatsoever thou mayest choose, and to-morrow I\nwill pay thee for the horses.\" \"Lord,\" said he, \"Heaven reward\nthee!\" \"And I will enhance the atonement,\" said Bendigeid Vran,\n\"for I will give unto thee a caldron, the property of which is,\nthat if one of thy men be slain to-day, and be cast therein, to-\nmorrow he will be as well as ever he was at the best, except that\nhe will not regain his speech.\" And thereupon he gave him great\nthanks, and very joyful was he for that cause.\n\nThat night they continued to discourse as much as they would, and\nhad minstrelsy and carousing; and when it was more pleasant to\nthem to sleep than to sit longer, they went to rest. And thus was\nthe banquet carried on with joyousness; and when it was finished,\nMatholch journeyed towards Ireland, and Branwen with him; and they\nwent from Aber Menei with thirteen ships, and came to Ireland. And\nin Ireland was there great joy because of their coming. And not\none great man nor noble lady visited Branwen unto whom she gave\nnot either a clasp or a ring, or a royal jewel to keep, such as it\nwas honorable to be seen departing with. And in these things she\nspent that year in much renown, and she passed her time\npleasantly, enjoying honor and friendship. And in due time a son\nwas born unto her, and the name that they gave him was Gwern, the\nson of Matholch, and they put the boy out to be nursed in a place\nwhere were the best men of Ireland.\n\nAnd, behold, in the second year a tumult arose in Ireland, on\naccount of the insult which Matholch had received in Wales, and\nthe payment made him for his horses. And his foster-brothers, and\nsuch as were nearest to him, blamed him openly for that matter.\nAnd he might have no peace by reason of the tumult, until they\nshould revenge upon him this disgrace. And the vengeance which\nthey took was to drive away Branwen from the same chamber with\nhim, and to make her cook for the court; and they caused the\nbutcher, after he had cut up the meat, to come to her and give her\nevery day a blow on the ear; and such they made her punishment.\n\n\"Verily, lord,\" said his men to Matholch, \"forbid now the ships\nand the ferry-boats, and the coracles, that they go not into\nWales, and such as come over from Wales hither, imprison them,\nthat they go not back for this thing to be known there.\" And he\ndid so; and it was thus for no less than three years.\n\nAnd Branwen reared a starling in the cover of the kneading-trough,\nand she taught it to speak, and she taught the bird what manner of\nman her brother was. And she wrote a letter of her woes, and the\ndespite with which she was treated, and she bound the letter to\nthe root of the bird's wing, and sent it toward Wales. And the\nbird came to that island; and one day it found Bendigeid Vran at\nCaer Seiont in Arvon, conferring there, and it alighted upon his\nshoulder, and ruffled its feathers, so that the letter was seen,\nand they knew that the bird had been reared in a domestic manner.\n\nThen Bendigeid Vran took the letter and looked upon it. And when\nhe had read the letter, he grieved exceedingly at the tidings of\nBranwen's woes. And immediately he began sending messengers to\nsummon the island together. And he caused seven-score and four of\nhis chief men to come unto him, and he complained to them of the\ngrief that his sister endured. So they took counsel. And in the\ncounsel they resolved to go to Ireland, and to leave seven men as\nprinces at home, and Caradoc, [Footnote: Caractacus.] the son of\nBran, as the chief of them.\n\nBendigeid Vran, with the host of which we spoke, sailed towards\nIreland; and it was not far across the sea, and he came to shoal\nwater. Now the swine-herds of Matholch were upon the sea-shore,\nand they came to Matholch. \"Lord,\" said they, \"greeting be unto\nthee.\" \"Heaven protect you!\" said he; \"have you any news?\" \"Lord,\"\nsaid they, \"we have marvellous news. A wood have we seen upon the\nsea, in a place where we never yet saw a single tree.\" \"This is\nindeed a marvel,\" said he; \"saw you aught else?\" \"We saw, lord,\"\nsaid they, \"a vast mountain beside the wood, which moved, and\nthere was a lofty ridge on the top of the mountain, and a lake on\neach side of the ridge. And the wood and the mountain, and all\nthese things, moved.\" \"Verily,\" said he, \"there is none who can\nknow aught concerning this unless it be Branwen.\"\n\nMessengers then went unto Branwen. \"Lady,\" said they, \"what\nthinkest thou that this is?\" \"The men of the Island of the Mighty,\nwho have come hither on hearing of my ill-treatment and of my\nwoes.\" \"What is the forest that is seen upon the sea?\" asked they.\n\"The yards and the masts of ships,\" she answered. \"Alas!\" said\nthey; \"what is the mountain that is seen by the side of the\nships?\" \"Bendigeid Vran, my brother,\" she replied, \"coming to\nshoal water, and he is wading to the land.\" \"What is the lofty\nridge, with the lake on each side thereof?\" \"On looking towards\nthis island he is wroth, and his two eyes on each side of his nose\nare the two lakes on each side of the ridge.\"\n\nThe warriors and chief men of Ireland were brought together in\nhaste, and they took counsel. \"Lord,\" said the neighbors unto\nMatholch, \"there is no other counsel than this alone. Thou shalt\ngive the kingdom to Gwern, the son of Branwen his sister, as a\ncompensation for the wrong and despite that have been done unto\nBranwen. And he will make peace with thee.\" And in the council it\nwas resolved that this message should be sent to Bendigeid Vran,\nlest the country should be destroyed. And this peace was made. And\nMatholch caused a great house to be built for Bendigeid Vran, and\nhis host. Thereupon came the hosts into the house. The men of the\nisland of Ireland entered the house on the one side, and the men\nof the Island of the Mighty on the other. And as soon as they had\nsat down, there was concord between them; and the sovereignty was\nconferred upon the boy. When the peace was concluded, Bendigeid\nVran called the boy unto him, and from Bendigeid Vran the boy went\nunto Manawyddan; and he was beloved by all that beheld him. And\nfrom Manawyddan the boy was called by Nissyen, the son of\nEuroswydd, and the boy went unto him lovingly. \"Wherefore,\" said\nEvnissyen, \"comes not my nephew, the son of my sister, unto me?\nThough he were not king of Ireland, yet willingly would I fondle\nthe boy.\" \"Cheerfully let him go to thee,\" said Bendigeid Vran;\nand the boy went unto him cheerfully. \"By my confession to\nHeaven,\" said Evnissyen in his heart, \"unthought of is the\nslaughter that I will this instant commit.\"\n\nThen he arose and took up the boy, and before any one in the house\ncould seize hold of him he thrust the boy headlong into the\nblazing fire. And when Branwen saw her son burning in the fire,\nshe strove to leap into the fire also, from the place where she\nsat between her two brothers. But Bendigeid Vran grasped her with\none hand, and his shield with the other. Then they all hurried\nabout the house, and never was there made so great a tumult by any\nhost in one house as was made by them, as each man armed himself.\nAnd while they all sought their arms Bendigeid Vran supported\nBranwen between his shield and his shoulder. And they fought.\n\nThen the Irish kindled a fire under the caldron of renovation, and\nthey cast the dead bodies into the caldron until it was full; and\nthe next day they came forth fighting men, as good as before,\nexcept that they were not able to speak. Then when Evnissyen saw\nthe dead bodies of the men of the Island of the Mighty nowhere\nresuscitated, he said in his heart, \"Alas! woe is me, that I\nshould have been the cause of bringing the men of the Island of\nthe Mighty into so great a strait. Evil betide me if I find not a\ndeliverance therefrom.\" And he cast himself among the dead bodies\nof the Irish; and two unshod Irishmen came to him, and, taking him\nto be one of the Irish, flung him into the caldron. And he\nstretched himself out in the caldron, so that he rent the caldron\ninto four pieces, and burst his own heart also.\n\nIn consequence of this, the men of the Island of the Mighty\nobtained such success as they had; but they were not victorious,\nfor only seven men of them all escaped, and Bendigeid Vran himself\nwas wounded in the foot with a poisoned dart. Now the men that\nescaped were Pryderi, Manawyddan, Taliesin, and four others.\n\nAnd Bendigeid Vran commanded them that they should cut off his\nhead. \"And take you my head,\" said he, \"and bear it even unto the\nWhite Mount in London, and bury it there with the face towards\nFrance. And so long as it lies there, no enemy shall ever land on\nthe island.\" So they cut off his head, and these seven went\nforward therewith. And Branwen was the eighth with them. And they\ncame to land on Aber Alaw, and they sat down to rest. And Branwen\nlooked towards Ireland, and towards the Island of the Mighty, to\nsee if she could descry them. \"Alas!\" said she, \"woe is me that I\nwas ever born; two islands have been destroyed because of me.\"\nThen she uttered a groan, and there broke her heart. And they made\nher a four-sided grave, and buried her upon the banks of the Alaw.\n\nThen the seven men journeyed forward, bearing the head with them;\nand as they went, behold there met them a multitude of men and\nwomen. \"Have you any tidings?\" said Manawyddan. \"We have none,\"\nsaid they, \"save that Caswallawn, [Footnote: Cassivellaunus.] the\nson of Beli, has conquered the Island of the Mighty, and is\ncrowned king in London.\" \"What has become,\" said they, \"of\nCaradoc, the son of Bran, and the seven men who were left with him\nin this island?\" \"Caswallawn came upon them, and slew six of the\nmen, and Caradoc's heart broke for grief thereof.\" And the seven\nmen journeyed on towards London, and they buried the head in the\nWhite Mount, as Bendigeid Vran had directed them. [Footnote: There\nis a Triad upon the story of the head buried under the White Tower\nof London, as a charm against invasion. Arthur, it seems, proudly\ndisinterred the head, preferring to hold the island by his own\nstrength alone.]\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nMANAWYDDAN\n\n\nPwyll and Rhiannon had a son, whom they named Pryderi. And when he\nwas grown up, Pwyll, his father, died. And Pryderi married Kicva,\nthe daughter of Gwynn Gloy.\n\nNow Manawyddan returned from the war in Ireland, and he found that\nhis cousin had seized all his possessions, and much grief and\nheaviness came upon him. \"Alas! woe is me!\" he exclaimed; \"there\nis none save myself without a home and a resting-place.\" \"Lord,\"\nsaid Pryderi, \"be not so sorrowful. Thy cousin is king of the\nIsland of the Mighty, and though he has done thee wrong, thou hast\nnever been a claimant of land or possessions.\" \"Yea,\" answered he,\n\"but although this man is my cousin, it grieveth me to see any one\nin the place of my brother, Bendigeid Vran; neither can I be happy\nin the same dwelling with him.\" \"Wilt thou follow the counsel of\nanother?\" said Pryderi. \"I stand in need of counsel,\" he answered,\n\"and what may that counsel be?\" \"Seven cantrevs belong unto me,\"\nsaid Pryderi, \"wherein Rhiannon, my mother, dwells. I will bestow\nher upon thee, and the seven cantrevs with her; and though thou\nhadst no possessions but those cantrevs only, thou couldst not\nhave any fairer than they. Do thou and Rhiannon enjoy them, and if\nthou desire any possessions thou wilt not despise these.\" \"I do\nnot, chieftain,\" said he. \"Heaven reward thee for the friendship!\nI will go with thee to seek Rhiannon, and to look at thy\npossessions.\" \"Thou wilt do well,\" he answered; \"and I believe\nthat thou didst never hear a lady discourse better than she, and\nwhen she was in her prime, none was ever fairer. Even now her\naspect is not uncomely.\"\n\nThey set forth, and, however long the journey, they came at last\nto Dyved; and a feast was prepared for them by Rhiannon and Kicva.\nThen began Manawyddan and Rhiannon to sit and to talk together;\nand his mind and his thoughts became warmed towards her, and he\nthought in his heart he had never beheld any lady more fulfilled\nof grace and beauty than she. \"Pryderi,\" said he, \"I will that it\nbe as thou didst say.\" \"What saying was that?\" asked Rhiannon.\n\"Lady,\" said Pryderi, \"I did offer thee as a wife to Manawyddan,\nthe son of Llyr.\" \"By that will I gladly abide,\" said Rhiannon.\n\"Right glad am I also,\" said Manawyddan, \"may Heaven reward him\nwho hath shown unto me friendship so perfect as this!\"\n\nAnd before the feast was over she became his bride. Said Pryderi,\n\"Tarry ye here the rest of the feast, and I will go into England\nto tender my homage unto Caswallawn, the son of Beli.\" \"Lord,\"\nsaid Rhiannon, \"Caswallawn is in Kent; thou mayest therefore tarry\nat the feast, and wait until he shall be nearer.\" \"We will wait,\"\nhe answered. So they finished the feast. And they began to make\nthe circuit of Dyved, and to hunt, and to take their pleasure. And\nas they went through the country, they had never seen lands more\npleasant to live in, nor better hunting grounds, nor greater\nplenty of honey and fish. And such was the friendship between\nthese four, that they would not be parted from each other by night\nnor by day.\n\nAnd in the midst of all this he went to Caswallawn at Oxford, and\ntendered his homage; and honorable was his reception there, and\nhighly was he praised for offering his homage.\n\nAnd after his return Pryderi and Manawyddan feasted and took their\nease and pleasure. And they began a feast at Narberth, for it was\nthe chief palace. And when they had ended the first meal, while\nthose who served them ate, they arose and went forth, and\nproceeded to the Gorsedd, that is, the Mount of Narberth, and\ntheir retinue with them. And as they sat thus, behold a peal of\nthunder, and with the violence of the thunder-storm, lo! there\ncame a fall of mist, so thick that not one of them could see the\nother. And after the mist it became light all around. And when\nthey looked towards the place where they were wont to see the\ncattle and herds and dwellings, they saw nothing now, neither\nhouse, nor beast, nor smoke, nor fire, nor man, nor dwelling, but\nthe buildings of the court empty, and desert, and uninhabited,\nwithout either man or beast within them. And truly all their\ncompanions were lost to them, without their knowing aught of what\nhad befallen them, save those four only.\n\n\"In the name of Heaven,\" said Manawyddan, \"where are they of the\ncourt, and all my host beside? Let us go and see.\"\n\nSo they came to the castle, and saw no man, and into the hall, and\nto the sleeping-place, and there was none; and in the mead-cellar\nand in the kitchen there was naught but desolation. Then they\nbegan to go through the land, and all the possessions that they\nhad; and they visited the houses and dwellings, and found nothing\nbut wild beasts. And when they had consumed their feast and all\ntheir provisions, they fed upon the prey they killed in hunting,\nand the honey of the wild swans.\n\nAnd one morning Pryderi and Manawyddan rose up to hunt, and they\nranged their dogs and went forth. And some of the dogs ran before\nthem, and came to a bush which was near at hand; but as soon as\nthey were come to the bush, they hastily drew back, and returned\nto the men, their hair bristling up greatly. \"Let us go near to\nthe bush,\" said Pryderi, \"and see what is in it.\" And as they came\nnear, behold, a wild boar of a pure white color rose up from the\nbush. Then the dogs, being set on by the men, rushed towards him;\nbut he left the bush, and fell back a little way from the men, and\nmade a stand against the dogs, without retreating from them, until\nthe men had come near. And when the men came up, he fell back a\nsecond time, and betook him to flight. Then they pursued the boar\nuntil they beheld a vast and lofty castle, all newly built, in a\nplace where they had never before seen either stone or building.\nAnd the boar ran swiftly into the castle, and the dogs after him.\nNow when the boar and the dogs had gone into the castle, the men\nbegan to wonder at finding a castle in a place where they had\nnever before seen any building whatsoever. And from the top of the\nGorsedd they looked and listened for the dogs. But so long as they\nwere there, they heard not one of the dogs, nor aught concerning\nthem.\n\n\"Lord,\" said Pryderi, \"I will go into the castle to get tidings of\nthe dogs.\" \"Truly,\" he replied, \"thou wouldst be unwise to go into\nthis castle, which thou hast never seen till now. If thou wouldst\nfollow my counsel, thou wouldst not enter therein. Whosoever has\ncast a spell over this land, has caused this castle to be here.\"\n\"Of a truth,\" answered Pryderi, \"I cannot thus give up my dogs.\"\nAnd for all the counsel that Manawyddan gave him, yet to the\ncastle he went.\n\nWhen he came within the castle, neither man nor beast, nor boar,\nnor dogs, nor house, nor dwelling, saw he within it. But in the\ncentre of the castle-floor he beheld a fountain with marble-work\naround it, and on the margin of the fountain a golden bowl upon a\nmarble slab, and chains hanging from the air, to which he saw no\nend.\n\nAnd he was greatly pleased with the beauty of the gold, and with\nthe rich workmanship of the bowl; and he went up to the bowl, and\nlaid hold of it. And when he had taken hold of its his hands stuck\nto the bowl, and his feet to the slab on which the bowl was\nplaced; and all his joyousness forsook him, so that he could not\nutter a word. And thus he stood.\n\nAnd Manawyddan waited for him till near the close of the day. And\nlate in the evening, being certain that he should have no tidings\nof Pryderi or the dogs, he went back to the palace. And as he\nentered, Rhiannon looked at him. \"Where,\" said she, \"are thy\ncompanion and thy dogs?\" \"Behold,\" he answered, \"the adventure\nthat has befallen me.\" And he related it all unto her. \"An evil\ncompanion hast thou been,\" said Rhiannon, \"and a good companion\nhast thou lost.\" And with that word she went out, and proceeded\ntowards the castle, according to the direction which he gave her.\nThe gate of the castle she found open. She was nothing daunted,\nand she went in. And as she went in, she perceived Pryderi laying\nhold of the bowl, and she went towards him. \"O my lord,\" said she,\n\"what dost thou here?\" And she took hold of the bowl with him; and\nas she did so, her hands also became fast to the bowl, and her\nfeet to the slab, and she was not able to utter a word. And with\nthat, as it became night, lo! there came thunder upon them, and a\nfall of mist; and thereupon the castle vanished, and they with it.\n\nWhen Kicva, the daughter of Gwynn Gloy, saw that there was no one\nin the palace but herself and Manawyddan, she sorrowed so that she\ncared not whether she lived or died. And Manawyddan saw this.\n\"Thou art in the wrong,\" said he, \"if through fear of me thou\ngrievest thus. I call Heaven to witness that thou hast never seen\nfriendship more pure than that which I will bear thee as long as\nHeaven will that thou shouldst be thus. I declare to thee, that,\nwere I in the dawn of youth, I would keep my faith unto Pryderi,\nand unto thee also will I keep it. Be there no fear upon thee,\ntherefore.\" \"Heaven reward thee!\" she said; \"and that is what I\ndeemed of thee.\" And the damsel thereupon took courage, and was\nglad.\n\n\"Truly, lady,\" said Manawyddan, \"it is not fitting for us to stay\nhere; we have lost our dogs, and cannot get food. Let us go into\nEngland; it is easiest for us to find support there.\" \"Gladly,\nlord,\" said she, \"we will do so.\" And they set forth together to\nEngland.\n\n\"Lord,\" said she, \"what craft wilt thou follow? Take up one that\nis seemly.\" \"None other will I take,\" answered he, \"but that of\nmaking shoes.\" \"Lord,\" said she, \"such a craft becomes not a man\nso nobly born as thou.\" \"By that however will I abide,\" said he.\n\"I know nothing thereof,\" said Kicva. \"But I know,\" answered\nManawyddan, \"and I will teach thee to stitch. We will not attempt\nto dress the leather, but we will buy it ready dressed, and will\nmake the shoes from it.\"\n\nSo they went into England, and went as far as Hereford; and they\nbetook themselves to making shoes. And he began by buying the best\ncordwain that could be had in the town, and none other would buy.\nAnd he associated himself with the best goldsmith in the town, and\ncaused him to make clasps for the shoes, and to gild the clasps;\nand he marked how it was done until he learned the method. And\ntherefore is he called one of the three makers of gold shoes. And\nwhen they could be had from him, not a shoe nor hose was bought of\nany of the cordwainers in the town. But when the cordwainers\nperceived that their gains were failing (for as Manawyddan shaped\nthe work, so Kicva stitched it), they came together and took\ncounsel, and agreed that they would slay them. And he had warning\nthereof, and it was told him how the cordwainers had agreed\ntogether to slay him.\n\n\"Lord,\" said Kicva, \"wherefore should this be borne from these\nboors?\" \"Nay,\" said he, \"we will go back unto Dyved.\" So towards\nDyved they set forth.\n\nNow Manawyddan, when he set out to return to Dyved, took with him\na burden of wheat. And he proceeded towards Narberth, and there he\ndwelt. And never was he better pleased than when he saw Narberth\nagain, and the lands where he had been wont to hunt with Pryderi\nand with Rhiannon. And he accustomed himself to fish, and to hunt\nthe deer in their covert. And then he began to prepare some\nground, and he sowed a croft, and a second, and a third. And no\nwheat in the world ever sprung up better. And the three crofts\nprospered with perfect growth, and no man ever saw fairer wheat\nthan it.\n\nAnd thus passed the seasons of the year until the harvest came.\nAnd he went to look at one of his crofts, and, behold, it was\nripe. \"I will reap this to-morrow,\" said he. And that night he\nwent back to Narberth, and on the morrow, in the gray dawn, he\nwent to reap the croft; and when he came there, he found nothing\nbut the bare straw. Every one of the ears of the wheat was cut off\nfrom the stalk, and all the ears carried entirely away, and\nnothing but the straw left. And at this he marvelled greatly.\n\nThen he went to look at another croft, and, behold, that also was\nripe. \"Verily,\" said he, \"this will I reap to-morrow.\" And on the\nmorrow he came with the intent to reap it; and when he came there,\nhe found nothing but the bare straw. \"O gracious Heaven!\" he\nexclaimed. \"I know that whosoever has begun my ruin is completing\nit, and has also destroyed the country with me.\"\n\nThen he went to look at the third croft; and when he came there,\nfiner wheat had there never been seen, and this also was ripe.\n\"Evil betide me,\" said he, \"if I watch not here to-night. Whoever\ncarried off the other corn will come in like manner to take this,\nand I will know who it is.\" And he told Kicva all that had\nbefallen. \"Verily,\" said she, \"what thinkest thou to do?\" \"I will\nwatch the croft to-night,\" said he. And he went to watch the\ncroft.\n\nAnd at midnight he heard something stirring among the wheat; and\nhe looked, and behold, the mightiest host of mice in the world,\nwhich could neither be numbered nor measured. And he knew not what\nit was until the mice had made their way into the croft, and each\nof them, climbing up the straw, and bending it down with its\nweight, had cut off one of the ears of wheat, and had carried it\naway, leaving there the stalk; and he saw not a single straw there\nthat had not a mouse to it. And they all took their way, carrying\nthe ears with them.\n\nIn wrath and anger did he rush upon the mice; but he could no more\ncome up with them than if they had been gnats or birds of the air,\nexcept one only, which, though it was but sluggish, went so fast\nthat a man on foot could scarce overtake it. And after this one he\nwent, and he caught it, and put it in his glove, and tied up the\nopening of the glove with a string, and kept it with him, and\nreturned to the palace. Then he came to the hall where Kicva was,\nand he lighted a fire, and hung the glove by the string upon a\npeg. \"What hast thou there, lord?\" said Kicva. \"A thief,\" said he,\n\"that I found robbing me.\" \"What kind of a thief may it be, lord,\nthat thou couldst put into thy glove?\" said she. Then he told her\nhow the mice came to the last of the fields in his sight. \"And one\nof them was less nimble than the rest, and is now in my glove; to-\nmorrow I will hang it.\" \"My lord,\" said she, \"this is marvellous;\nbut yet it would be unseemly for a man of dignity like thee to be\nhanging such a reptile as this.\" \"Woe betide me,\" said he, \"if I\nwould not hang them all, could I catch them, and such as I have I\nwill hang.\" \"Verily, lord,\" said she, \"there is no reason that I\nshould succor this reptile, except to prevent discredit unto thee.\nDo therefore, lord, as thou wilt.\"\n\nThen he went to the Mound of Narberth, taking the mouse with him.\nAnd he set up two forks on the highest part of the mound. And\nwhile he was doing this, behold, he saw a scholar coming towards\nhim, in old and poor and tattered garments. And it was now seven\nyears since he had seen in that place either man or beast, except\nthose four persons who had remained together until two of them\nwere lost.\n\n\"My lord,\" said the scholar, \"good-day to thee.\" \"Heaven prosper\nthee, and my greeting be unto thee! And whence dost thou come,\nscholar?\" asked he. \"I come, lord, from singing in England; and\nwherefore dost thou inquire?\" \"Because for the last seven years,\"\nanswered he, \"I have seen no man here save four secluded persons,\nand thyself this moment.\" \"Truly, lord,\" said he, \"I go through\nthis land unto mine own. And what work art thou upon, lord?\" \"I am\nhanging a thief that I caught robbing me,\" said he. \"What manner\nof thief is that?\" asked the scholar. \"I see a creature in thy\nhand like unto a mouse, and ill does it become a man of rank equal\nto thine to touch a reptile such as this. Let it go forth free.\"\n\"I will not let it go free, by Heaven,\" said he; \"I caught it\nrobbing me, and the doom of a thief will I inflict upon it, and I\nwill hang it.\" \"Lord,\" said he, \"rather than see a man of rank\nequal to thine at such a work as this, I would give thee a pound,\nwhich I have received as alms, to let the reptile go forth free.\"\n\"I will not let it go free,\" said he, \"neither will I sell it.\"\n\"As thou wilt, lord,\" he answered; \"I care naught.\" And the\nscholar went his way.\n\nAnd as he was placing the cross-beam upon the two forks, behold, a\npriest came towards him, upon a horse covered with trappings.\n\"Good day to thee, lord,\" said he. \"Heaven prosper thee!\" said\nManawyddan; \"thy blessing.\" \"The blessing of Heaven be upon thee!\nAnd what, lord, art thou doing?\" \"I am hanging a thief that I\ncaught robbing me,\" said he. \"What manner of thief, lord?\" asked\nhe. \"A creature,\" he answered, \"in form of a mouse. It has been\nrobbing me, and I am inflicting upon it the doom of a thief.\"\n\"Lord,\" said he, \"rather than see thee touch this reptile, I would\npurchase its freedom.\" \"By my confession to Heaven, neither will I\nsell it nor set it free.\" \"It is true, lord, that it is worth\nnothing to buy; but rather than see thee defile thyself by\ntouching such a reptile as this, I will give thee three pounds to\nlet it go.\" \"I will not, by Heaven,\" said he, \"take any price for\nit. As it ought, so shall it be hanged.\" And the priest went his\nway.\n\nThen he noosed the string around the mouse's neck, and as he was\nabout to draw it up, behold, he saw a bishop's retinue, with his\nsumpter-horses and his attendants. And the bishop himself came\ntowards him. And he stayed his work. \"Lord Bishop,\" said he, \"thy\nblessing.\" \"Heaven's blessing be unto thee!\" said he. \"What work\nart thou upon?\" \"Hanging a thief that I caught robbing me,\" said\nhe. \"Is not that a mouse that I see in thy hand?\" \"Yes,\" answered\nhe, \"and she has robbed me.\" \"Ay,\" said he, \"since I have come at\nthe doom of this reptile I will ransom it of thee. I will give\nthee seven pounds for it, and that rather than see a man of rank\nequal to thine destroying so vile a reptile as this. Let it loose,\nand thou shalt have the money.\" \"I declare to Heaven that I will\nnot let it loose.\" \"If thou wilt not loose it for this, I will\ngive thee four and twenty pounds of ready money to set it free.\"\n\"I will not set it free, by Heaven, for as much again,\" said he.\n\"If thou wilt not set it free for this, I will give thee all the\nhorses that thou seest in this plain, and the seven loads of\nbaggage, and the seven horses that they are upon.\" \"By Heaven, I\nwill not,\" he replied. \"Since for this thou wilt not set it free,\ndo so at what price soever thou wilt.\" \"I will that Rhiannon and\nPryderi be free,\" said he. \"That thou shalt have,\" he answered.\n\"Not yet will I loose the mouse, by Heaven.\" \"What then wouldst\nthou?\" \"That the charm and the illusion be removed from the seven\ncantrevs of Dyved.\" \"This shalt thou have also; set therefore the\nmouse free.\" \"I will not set it free, by Heaven,\" said he, \"till I\nknow who the mouse may be.\" \"She is my wife.\" \"Wherefore came she\nto me?\" \"To despoil thee,\" he answered. \"I am Lloyd, the son of\nKilwed, and I cast the charm over the seven cantrevs of Dyved. And\nit was to avenge Gawl, the son of Clud, from the friendship I had\ntowards him, that I cast the charm. And upon Pryderi did I avenge\nGawl, the son of Clud, for the game of Badger in the Bag, that\nPwyll, the son of Auwyn, played upon him. And when it was known\nthat thou wast come to dwell in the land, my household came and\nbesought me to transform them into mice, that they might destroy\nthy corn. And they went the first and the second night, and\ndestroyed thy two crops. And the third night came unto me my wife\nand the ladies of the court, and besought me to transform them.\nAnd I transformed them. Now she is not in her usual health. And\nhad she been in her usual health, thou wouldst not have been able\nto overtake her; but since this has taken place, and she has been\ncaught, I will restore to thee Pryderi and Rhiannon, and I will\ntake the charm and illusion from off Dyved. Set her therefore\nfree.\" \"I will not set her free yet.\" \"What wilt thou more?\" he\nasked. \"I will that there be no more charm upon the seven cantrevs\nof Dyved, and that none shall be put upon it henceforth; moreover,\nthat vengeance be never taken for this, either upon Pryderi or\nRhiannon, or upon me.\" \"All this shalt thou have. And truly thou\nhast done wisely in asking this. Upon thy head would have lit all\nthis trouble.\" \"Yea,\" said he, \"for fear thereof was it that I\nrequired this.\" \"Set now my wife at liberty.\" \"I will not,\" said\nhe, \"until I see Pryderi and Rhiannon with me free.\" \"Behold, here\nthey come,\" he answered.\n\nAnd thereupon behold Pryderi and Rhiannon. And he rose up to meet\nthem, and greeted them, and sat down beside them. \"Ah, chieftain,\nset now my wife at liberty,\" said the bishop. \"Hast thou not\nreceived all thou didst ask?\" \"I will release her, gladly,\" said\nhe. And thereupon he set her free.\n\nThen he struck her with a magic wand, and she was changed back\ninto a young woman, the fairest ever seen. \"Look round upon thy\nland,\" said he, \"and thou wilt see it all tilled and peopled as it\nwas in its best estate.\" And he rose up and looked forth. And when\nhe looked he saw all the lands tilled, and full of herds and\ndwellings.\n\nAnd thus ends this portion of the Mabinogi.\n\nThe following allusions to the preceding story are found in a\nletter of the poet Southey to John Rickman, Esq., dated June 6th,\n1802:\n\n\"You will read the Mabinogeon, concerning which I ought to have\ntalked to you. In the last, that most odd and Arabian-like story\nof the mouse, mention is made of a begging scholar, that helps to\nthe date; but where did the Cymri get the imagination that could\nproduce such a tale? That enchantment of the basin hanging by the\nchain from heaven is in the wildest spirit of the Arabian Nights.\nI am perfectly astonished that such fictions should exist in\nWelsh. They throw no light on the origin of romance, everything\nbeing utterly dissimilar to what we mean by that term, but they do\nopen a new world of fiction; and if the date of their language be\nfixed about the twelfth or thirteenth century, I cannot but think\nthe mythological substance is of far earlier date; very probably\nbrought from the East by some of the first settlers or\nconquerors.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nKILWICH AND OLWEN\n\n\nKilydd, a son of Prince Kelyddon, desired a wife as a helpmate,\nand the wife that he chose was Goleudid, the daughter of Prince\nAnlawd. And after their union the people put up prayers that they\nmight have an heir. And they had a son through the prayers of the\npeople; and called his name Kilwich.\n\nAfter this the boy's mother, Goleudid, the daughter of Prince\nAnlawd, fell sick. Then she called her husband to her, and said to\nhim, \"Of this sickness I shall die, and thou wilt take another\nwife. Now wives are the gift of the Lord, but it would be wrong\nfor thee to harm thy son. Therefore I charge thee that thou take\nnot a wife until thou see a briar with two blossoms upon my\ngrave.\" And this he promised her. Then she besought him to dress\nher grave every year, that no weeds might grow thereon. So the\nqueen died. Now the king sent an attendant every morning to see if\nanything were growing upon the grave. And at the end of the\nseventh year they neglected that which they had promised to the\nqueen.\n\nOne day the king went to hunt; and he rode to the place of burial,\nto see the grave, and to know if it were time that he should take\na wife: and the King saw the briar. And when he saw it, the king\ntook counsel where he should find a wife. Said one of his\ncounsellors, \"I know a wife that will suit thee well; and she is\nthe wife of King Doged.\" And they resolved to go to seek her; and\nthey slew the king, and brought away his wife. And they conquered\nthe kings' lands. And he married the widow of King Doged, the\nsister of Yspadaden Penkawr.\n\nAnd one day his stepmother said to Kilwich, \"It were well for thee\nto have a wife.\" \"I am not yet of an age to wed,\" answered the\nyouth. Then said she unto him, \"I declare to thee that it is thy\ndestiny not to be suited with a wife until thou obtain Olwen, the\ndaughter of Yspadaden Penkawr.\" And the youth blushed, and the\nlove of the maiden diffused itself through all his frame, although\nhe had never seen her. And his father inquired of him, \"What has\ncome over thee, my son, and what aileth thee?\" \"My stepmother has\ndeclared to me that I shall never have a wife until I obtain\nOlwen, the daughter of Yspadaden Penkawr.\" \"That will be easy for\nthee,\" answered his father. \"Arthur is thy cousin. Go, therefore,\nunto Arthur, to cut thy hair, and ask this of him as a boon.\"\n\nAnd the youth pricked forth upon a steed with head dappled gray,\nfour winters old, firm of limb, with shell-formed hoofs, having a\nbridle of linked gold on his head, and upon him a saddle of costly\ngold. And in the youth's hand were two spears of silver, sharp,\nwell-tempered, headed with steel, three ells in length, of an\nedge to wound the wind, and cause blood to flow, and swifter than\nthe fall of the dew-drop from the blade of reed-grass, when the\ndew of June is at the heaviest. A gold-hilted sword was upon his\nthigh, the blade of which was gilded, bearing a cross of inlaid\ngold of the hue of the lightning of heaven. His war-horn was of\nivory. Before him were two brindled, white-breasted greyhounds,\nhaving strong collars of rubies about their necks, reaching from\nthe shoulder to the ear. And the one that was upon the left side\nbounded across to the right side, and the one on the right to the\nleft, and, like two sea-swallows, sported around him. And his\ncourser cast up four sods, with his four hoofs, like four swallows\nin the air, about his head, now above, now below. About him was a\nfour-cornered cloth of purple, and an apple of gold was at each\ncorner, and every one of the apples was of the value of an hundred\nkine. And there was precious gold of the value of three hundred\nkine upon his shoes, and upon his stirrups, from his knee to the\ntip of his toe. And the blade of grass bent not beneath him, so\nlight was his courser's tread, as he journeyed toward the gate of\nArthur's palace.\n\nSpoke the youth: \"Is there a porter?\" \"There is; and if thou\nholdest not thy peace, small will be thy welcome. I am Arthur's\nporter every first day of January.\" \"Open the portal.\" \"I will not\nopen it.\" \"Wherefore not?\" \"The knife is in the meat, and the\ndrink is in the horn, and there is revelry in Arthur's hall; and\nnone may enter therein but the son of a king of a privileged\ncountry, or a craftsman bringing his craft. But there will be\nrefreshment for thy dogs and for thy horse; and for thee there\nwill be collops cooked and peppered, and luscious wine, and\nmirthful songs; and food for fifty men shall be brought unto thee\nin the guest-chamber, where the stranger and the sons of other\ncountries eat, who come not into the precincts of the palace of\nArthur. Thou wilt fare no worse there than thou wouldst with\nArthur in the court. A lady shall smooth thy couch, and shall lull\nthee with songs; and early to-morrow morning, when the gate is\nopen for the multitude that came hither to-day, for thee shall it\nbe opened first, and thou mayest sit in the place that thou shalt\nchoose in Arthur's hall, from the upper end to the lower.\" Said\nthe youth: \"That will I not do. If thou openest the gate, it is\nwell. If thou dost not open it, I will bring disgrace upon thy\nlord, and evil report upon thee. And I will set up three shouts at\nthis very gate, than which none were ever heard more deadly.\"\n\"What clamor soever thou mayest make,\" said Glewlwyd, the porter,\n\"against the laws of Arthur's palace, shalt thou not enter\ntherein, until I first go and speak with Arthur.\"\n\nThen Glewlwyd went into the hall. And Arthur said to him, \"Hast\nthou news from the gate?\" \"Half of my life is passed,\" said\nGlewlwyd, \"and half of thine. I was heretofore in Kaer Se and\nAsse, in Sach and Salach, in Lotor and Fotor, and I have been in\nIndia the Great and India the Lesser, and I have also been in\nEurope and Africa, and in the islands of Corsica, and I was\npresent when thou didst conquer Greece in the East. Nine supreme\nsovereigns, handsome men, saw we there, but never did I behold a\nman of equal dignity with him who is now at the door of the\nportal.\" Then said Arthur: \"If walking thou didst enter here,\nreturn thou running. It is unbecoming to keep such a man as thou\nsayest he is in the wind and the rain.\" Said Kay: \"By the hand of\nmy friend, if thou wouldst follow my counsel, thou wouldst not\nbreak through the laws of the court because of him.\" \"Not so,\nblessed Kay,\" said Arthur; \"it is an honor to us to be resorted\nto, and the greater our courtesy, the greater will be our renown\nand our fame and our glory.\"\n\nAnd Glewlwyd came to the gate, and opened the gate before Kilwich:\nand although all dismounted upon the horse-block at the gate, yet\ndid he not dismount, but he rode in upon his charger. Then said\nhe, \"Greeting be unto thee, sovereign ruler of this island, and be\nthis greeting no less unto the lowest than unto the highest, and\nbe it equally unto thy guests, and thy warriors, and thy\nchieftains; let all partake of it as completely as thyself. And\ncomplete be thy favor, and thy fame, and thy glory, throughout all\nthis island.\" \"Greeting unto thee also,\" said Arthur; \"sit thou\nbetween two of my warriors, and thou shalt have minstrels before\nthee, and thou shalt enjoy the privileges of a king born to a\nthrone, as long as thou remainest here. And when I disperse my\npresents to the visitors and strangers in this court, they shall\nbe in thy hand at my commencing.\" Said the youth, \"I came not here\nto consume meat and drink; but if I obtain the boon that I seek, I\nwill requite it thee, and extol thee; but if I have it not, I will\nbear forth thy dispraise to the four quarters of the world, as far\nas thy renown has extended.\" Then said Arthur, \"Since thou wilt\nnot remain here, chieftain, thou shalt receive the boon,\nwhatsoever thy tongue may name, as far as the wind dries, and the\nrain moistens, and the sun revolves, and the sea encircles, and\nthe earth extends; save only my ship Prydwen, and my mantle, and\nCaliburn, my sword, and Rhongomyant, my lance, and Guenever, my\nwife. By the truth of Heaven, thou shalt have it cheerfuly, name\nwhat thou wilt.\" \"I would that thou bless my hair,\" said he. \"That\nshall be granted thee.\"\n\nAnd Arthur took a golden comb, and scissors whereof the loops were\nof silver, and he combed his hair. And Arthur inquired of him who\nhe was; \"for my heart warms unto thee, and I know that thou art\ncome of my blood. Tell me, therefore, who thou art.\" \"I will tell\nthee,\" said the youth. \"I am Kilwich, the son of Kilydd, the son\nof Prince Kelyddon, by Goleudyd, my mother, the daughter of Prince\nAnlawd.\" \"That is true,\" said Arthur; \"thou art my cousin.\nWhatsoever boon thou mayest ask, thou shalt receive, be it what it\nmay that thy tongue shall name.\" \"Pledge the truth of Heaven and\nthe faith of thy kingdom thereof.\" \"I pledge it thee gladly.\" \"I\ncrave of thee, then, that thou obtain for me Olwen, the daughter\nof Yspadaden Penkawr, to wife; and this boon I likewise seek at\nthe hands of thy warriors. I seek it from Kay and from Bedwyr; and\nfrom Gwynn, the son of Nudd, and Gadwy, the son of Geraint, and\nPrince Flewddur Flam and Iona, king of France, and Sel, the son of\nSelgi, and Taliesin, the chief of the bards, and Geraint, the son\nof Erbin, Garanwyn, the son of Kay, and Amren, the son of Bedwyr,\nOl, the son of Olwyd, Bedwin, the bishop, Guenever, the chief\nlady, and Guenhywach, her sister, Morved, the daughter of Urien,\nand Gwenlian Deg, the majestic maiden, Creiddylad, [Footnote:\nCreiddylad is no other than Shakspeare's Cordelia, whose father,\nKing Lear, is by the Welsh authorities called indiscriminately\nLlyr or Lludd. All the old chronicles give the story of her\ndevotion to her aged parent, but none of them seem to have been\naware that she is destined to remain with him till the day of\ndoom, whilst Gwyn ap Nudd, the king of the fairies, and Gwythyr op\nGreidiol, fight for her every first of May, and whichever of them\nmay be fortunate enough to be the conqueror at that time will\nobtain her as a bride.] the daughter of Lludd, the constant\nmaiden, and Ewaedah, the daughter of Kynvelyn, [Footnote: The\nWelsh have a fable on the subject of the half man, taken to be\nillustrative of the force of habit. In this allegory Arthur is\nsupposed to be met by a sprite, who appears at first in a small\nand indistinct form, but who, on approaching nearer, increases in\nsize, and, assuming the semblance of half a man, endeavors to\nprovoke the king to wrestle. Despising his weakness, and\nconsidering that he should gain no credit by the encounter, Arthur\nrefuses to do so, and delays the contest until at length the half\nman (Habit) becomes so strong that it requires his utmost efforts\nto overcome him.] the half-man.\" All these did Kilwich, the son of\nKilydd, adjure to obtain his boon.\n\nThen said Arthur, \"O chieftain, I have never heard of the maiden\nof whom thou speakest, nor of her kindred, but I will gladly send\nmessengers in search of her. Give me time to seek her.\" And the\nyouth said, \"I will willingly grant from this night to that at the\nend of the year to do so.\" Then Arthur sent messengers to every\nland within his dominions to seek for the maiden, and at the end\nof the year Arthur's messengers returned without having gained any\nknowledge or intelligence concerning Olwen, more than on the first\nday. Then said Kilwich, \"Every one has received his boon, and I\nyet lack mine. I will depart, and bear away thy honor with me.\"\nThen said Kay, \"Rash chieftain! dost thou reproach Arthur? Go with\nus, and we will not part until thou dost either confess that the\nmaiden exists not in the world, or until we obtain her.\" Thereupon\nKay rose up. And Arthur called Bedwyr, who never shrank from any\nenterprise upon which Kay was bound. None were equal to him in\nswiftness throughout this island except Arthur alone; and although\nhe was one handed; three warriors could not shed blood faster than\nhe on the field of battle.\n\nAnd Arthur called to Kyndelig, the guide, \"Go thou upon this\nexpedition with the chieftain.\" For as good a guide was he in a\nland which he had never seen as he was in his own.\n\nHe called Gurhyr Gwalstat, because he knew all tongues.\n\nHe called Gawain, the son of Gwyar, because he never returned home\nwithout achieving the adventure of which he went in quest.\n\nAnd Arthur called Meneu, the son of Teirgwed, in order that, if\nthey went into a savage country, he might cast a charm and an\nillusion over them, so that none might see them, whilst they could\nsee every one.\n\nThey journeyed until they came to a vast open plain, wherein they\nsaw a great castle, which was the fairest of the castles of the\nworld. And when they came before the castle, they beheld a vast\nflock of sheep. And upon the top of a mound there was a herdsman\nkeeping the sheep. And a rug made of skins was upon him, and by\nhis side was a shaggy mastiff, larger than a steed nine winters\nold.\n\nThen said Kay, \"Gurhyr Gwalstat, go thou and salute yonder man.\"\n\"Kay,\" said he, \"I engaged not to go further than thou thyself.\"\n\"Let us go then together.\" answered Kay. Said Meneu, \"Fear not to\ngo thither, for I will cast a spell upon the dog, so that he shall\ninjure no one.\" And they went up to the mound whereon the herdsman\nwas, and they said to him, \"How dost thou fare, herdsman?\" \"Not\nless fair be it to you than to me.\" \"Whose are the sheep that thou\ndost keep, and to whom does yonder castle belong?\" \"Stupid are ye,\ntruly! not to know that this is the castle of Yspadaden Penkawr.\nAnd ye also, who are ye?\" \"We are an embassy from Arthur, come to\nseek Olwen, the daughter of Yspadaden Penkawr.\" \"O men! the mercy\nof Heaven be upon you; do not that for all the world. None who\never came hither on this quest has returned alive.\" And the\nherdsman rose up. And as he rose Kilwich gave unto him a ring of\ngold. And he went home and gave the ring to his spouse to keep.\nAnd she took the ring when it was given her, and she said, \"Whence\ncame this ring, for thou art not wont to have good fortune.\" \"O\nwife, him to whom this ring belonged thou shalt see here this\nevening.\" \"And who is he?\" asked the woman. \"Kilwich, the son of\nKilydd, by Goleudid, the daughter of Prince Anlawd, who is come to\nseek Olwen as his wife.\" And when she heard that, she had joy that\nher nephew, the son of her sister, was coming to her, and sorrow,\nbecause she had never known any one depart alive who had come on\nthat quest.\n\nAnd the men went forward to the gate of the herdsman's dwelling.\nAnd when she heard their footsteps approaching, she ran out with\njoy to meet them. And Kay snatched a billet out of the pile. And\nwhen she met them, she sought to throw her arms about their necks.\nAnd Kay placed the log between her two hands, and she squeezed it\nso that it became a twisted coil. \"O woman,\" said Kay, \"if thou\nhadst squeezed me thus, none could ever again have set their\naffections on me. Evil love were this.\" They entered into the\nhouse and were served; and soon after, they all went forth to\namuse themselves. Then the woman opened a stone chest that was\nbefore the chimney-corner, and out of it arose a youth with\nyellow, curling hair. Said Gurhyr, \"It is a pity to hide this\nyouth. I know that it is not his own crime that is thus visited\nupon him.\" \"This is but a remnant,\" said the woman. \"Three and\ntwenty of my sons has Yspadaden Penkawr slain, and I have no more\nhope of this one than of the others.\" Then said Kay, \"Let him come\nand be a companion with me, and he shall not be slain unless I\nalso am slain with him.\" And they ate. And the woman asked them,\n\"Upon what errand come you here?\" \"We come to seek Olwen for this\nyouth.\" Then said the woman, \"In the name of Heaven, since no one\nfrom the castle hath yet seen you, return again whence you came.\"\n\"Heaven is our witness, that we will not return until we have seen\nthe maiden. Does she ever come hither, so that she may be seen?\"\n\"She comes here every Saturday to wash her head, and in the vessel\nwhere she washes she leaves all her rings, and she never either\ncomes herself or sends any messengers to fetch them.\" \"Will she\ncome here if she is sent to?\" \"Heaven knows that I will not\ndestroy my soul, nor will I betray those that trust me; unless you\nwill pledge me your faith that you will not harm her, I will not\nsend to her.\" \"We pledge it,\" said they. So a message was sent,\nand she came.\n\nThe maiden was clothed in a robe of flame-colored silk, and about\nher neck was a collar of ruddy gold, on which were precious\nemeralds and rubies. More yellow was her head than the flower of\nthe broom, [Footnote: The romancers dwell with great complacency\non the fair hair and delicate complexion of their heroines. This\ntaste continued for a long time, and to render the hair light was\nan object of education. Even when wigs came into fashion they were\nall flaxen. Such was the color of the hair of the Gauls and of\ntheir German conquerors. It required some centuries to reconcile\ntheir eyes to the swarthy beauties of their Spanish and Italian\nneighbors.] and her skin was whiter than the foam of the wave, and\nfairer were her hands and her fingers than the blossoms of the\nwood-anemone amidst the spray of the meadow fountain. The eye of\nthe trained hawk was not brighter than hers. Her bosom was more\nsnowy than the breast of the white swan, her cheek was redder than\nthe reddest roses. Whoso beheld her was filled with her love. Four\nwhite trefoils sprung up wherever she trod. And therefore was she\ncalled Olwen.\n\nShe entered the house and sat beside Kilwich upon the foremost\nbench; and as soon as he saw her, he knew her. And Kilwich said\nunto her, \"Ah! maiden, thou art she whom I have loved; come away\nwith me, lest they speak evil of thee and of me. Many a day have I\nloved thee.\" \"I cannot do this, for I have pledged my faith to my\nfather not to go without his counsel, for his life will last only\nuntil the time of my espousals. Whatever is to be, must be. But I\nwill give thee advice, if thou wilt take it. Go, ask me of my\nfather, and that which he shall require of thee, grant it, and\nthou wilt obtain me; but if thou deny him anything, thou wilt not\nobtain me, and it will be well for thee if thou escape with thy\nlife.\" \"I promise all this, if occasion offer,\" said he.\n\nShe returned to her chamber, and they all rose up, and followed\nher to the castle. And they slew the nine porters, that were at\nthe nine gates, in silence. And they slew the nine watch-dogs\nwithout one of them barking. And they went forward to the hall.\n\n\"The greeting of Heaven and of man be unto thee, Yspadaden\nPenkawr,\" said they. \"And you, wherefore come you?\" \"We come to\nask thy daughter Olwen for Kilwich, the son of Kilydd, the son of\nPrince Kelyddon.\" \"Where are my pages and my servants? Raise up\nthe forks beneath my two eyebrows, which have fallen over my eyes,\nthat I may see the fashion of my son-in-law.\" And they did so.\n\"Come hither to-morrow, and you shall have an answer.\"\n\nThey rose to go forth, and Yspadaden Penkawr seized one of the\nthree poisoned darts that lay beside him, and threw it after them.\nAnd Bedwyr caught it, and flung it, and pierced Yspadaden Penkawr\ngrievously with it through the knee. Then he said, \"A cursed\nungentle son-in-law, truly! I shall ever walk the worse for his\nrudeness, and shall ever be without a cure. This poisoned iron\npains me like the bite of a gad-fly. Cursed be the smith who\nforged it, and the anvil on which it was wrought! So sharp is it!\"\n\nThat night also they took up their abode in the house of the\nherdsman. The next day, with the dawn, they arrayed themselves and\nproceeded to the castle, and entered the hall; and they said,\n\"Yspadaden Penkawr, give us thy daughter in consideration of her\ndower and her maiden fee, which we will pay to thee, and to her\ntwo kinswomen likewise.\" Then he said, \"Her four great-\ngrandmothers and her four great-grandsires are yet alive; it is\nneedful that I take counsel of them.\" \"Be it so,\" they answered,\n\"we will go to meat.\" As they rose up he took the second dart that\nwas beside him, and cast it after them. And Meneu, the son of\nGawedd, caught it, and flung it back at him, and wounded him in\nthe centre of the breast. \"A cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly!\"\nsaid he; \"the hard iron pains me like the bite of a horse-leech.\nCursed be the hearth whereon it was heated, and the smith who\nformed it! So sharp is it! Henceforth, whenever I go up hill, I\nshall have a scant in my breath, and a pain in my chest, and I\nshall often loathe my food.\" And they went to meat.\n\nAnd the third day they returned to the palace. And Yspadaden\nPenkawr said to them, \"Shoot not at me again unless you desire\ndeath. Where are my attendants? Lift up the forks of my eyebrows,\nwhich have fallen over my eyeballs, that I may see the fashion of\nmy son-in-law.\" Then they arose, and, as they did so, Yspadaden\nPenkawr took the third poisoned dart and cast it at them. And\nKilwich caught it, and threw it vigorously, and wounded him\nthrough the eyeball. \"A cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly! As long\nas I remain alive, my eyesight will be the worse. Whenever I go\nagainst the wind, my eyes will water; and peradventure my head\nwill burn, and I shall have a giddiness every new moon. Like the\nbite of a mad dog is the stroke of this poisoned iron. Cursed be\nthe fire in which it was forged!\" And they went to meat.\n\nAnd the next day they came again to the palace, and they said,\n\"Shoot not at us any more, unless thou desirest such hurt and harm\nand torture as thou now hast, and even more.\" Said Kilwich, \"Give\nme thy daughter; and if thou wilt not give her, thou shalt receive\nthy death because of her.\" \"Where is he that seeks my daughter?\nCome hither where I may see thee.\" And they placed him a chair\nface to face with him.\n\nSaid Yspadaden Penkawr, \"Is it thou that seekest my daughter?\"\n\n\"It is I,\" answered Kilwich.\n\n\"I must have thy pledge that thou wilt not do toward me otherwise\nthan is just; and when I have gotten that which I shall name, my\ndaughter thou shalt have.\"\n\n\"I promise thee that willingly,\" said Kilwich; \"name what thou\nwilt.\"\n\n\"I will do so,\" said he. \"Seest thou yonder red tilled ground?\"\n\n\"I see it.\"\n\n\"When first I met the mother of this maiden, nine bushels of flax\nwere sown therein, and none has yet sprung up, white nor black. I\nrequire to have the flax to sow in the new land yonder, that when\nit grows up it may make a white wimple for my daughter's head on\nthe day of thy wedding.\"\n\n\"It will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest\nthink it will not be easy.\"\n\n\"Though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get--\nthe harp of Teirtu, to play to us that night. When a man desires\nthat it should play, it does so of itself; and when he desires\nthat it should cease, it ceases. And this he will not give of his\nown free will, and thou wilt not be able to compel him.\"\n\n\"It will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest\nthink it will not be easy.\"\n\n\"Though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get.\nI require thee to get me for my huntsman Mabon, the son of Modron.\nHe was taken from his mother when three nights old, and it is not\nknown where he now is, nor whether he is living or dead.\"\n\n\"It will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest\nthink it will not be easy.\"\n\n\"Though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get--\nthe two cubs of the wolf Gast Rhymhi; no leash in the world will\nhold them, but a leash made from the beard of Dillus Varwawc, the\nrobber. And the leash will be of no avail unless it be plucked\nfrom his beard while he is alive. While he lives he will not\nsuffer this to be done to him, and the leash will be of no use\nshould he be dead, because it will be brittle.\"\n\n\"It will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest\nthink it will not be easy.\"\n\n\"Though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get--\nthe sword of Gwernach the Giant; of his own free will he will not\ngive it, and thou wilt never be able to compel him.\"\n\n\"It will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest\nthink it will not be easy.\"\n\n\"Though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get.\nDifficulties shalt thou meet with, and nights without sleep, in\nseeking this, and if thou obtain it not, neither shalt thou obtain\nmy daughter.\"\n\n\"Horses shall I have, and chivalry; and my lord and kinsman,\nArthur, will obtain for me all these things. And I shall gain thy\ndaughter, and thou shalt lose thy life.\"\n\n\"Go forward. And thou shalt not be chargeable for food or raiment\nfor my daughter while thou art seeking these things; and when thou\nhast compassed all these marvels, thou shalt have my daughter for\nthy wife.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nKILWICH AND OLWEN (Continued)\n\n\nAll that day they journeyed until the evening, and then they\nbeheld a vast castle, which was the largest in the world. And lo!\na black man, larger than three of the men of this world, came out\nfrom the castle. And they spoke unto him, and said, \"O man, whose\ncastle is that?\" \"Stupid are ye, truly, O men! There is no one in\nthe world that does not know that this is the castle of Gwernach\nthe Giant.\" \"What treatment is there for guests and strangers that\nalight in that castle?\" \"O chieftain, Heaven protect thee! No\nguests ever returned thence alive, and no one may enter therein\nunless he brings with him his craft.\"\n\nThen they proceeded towards the gate. Said Gurhyr Gwalstat, \"Is\nthere a porter?\" \"There is; wherefore dost thou call?\" \"Open the\ngate.\" \"I will not open it.\" \"Wherefore wilt thou not?\" \"The knife\nis in the meat, and the drink is in the horn, and there is revelry\nin the hall of Gwernach the Giant; and except for a craftsman who\nbrings his craft, the gate will not be opened to-night.\" \"Verily,\nporter,\" then said Kay, \"my craft bring I with me.\" \"What is thy\ncraft?\" \"The best burnisher of swords am I in the world.\" \"I will\ngo and tell this unto Gwernach the Giant, and I will bring thee an\nanswer.\"\n\nSo the porter went in, and Gwernach said to him, \"Hast thou news\nfrom the gate?\" \"I have. There is a party at the door of the gate\nwho desire to come in.\" \"Didst thou inquire of them if they\npossessed any art?\" \"I did inquire,\" said he, \"and one told me\nthat he was well skilled in the burnishing of swords.\" \"We have\nneed of him then. For some time have I sought for some one to\npolish my sword, and could find no one. Let this man enter, since\nhe brings with him his craft.\"\n\nThe porter thereupon returned and opened the gate. And Kay went in\nby himself, and he saluted Gwernach the Giant. And a chair was\nplaced for him opposite to Gwernach. And Gwernach said to him, \"O\nman, is it true that is reported of thee, that thou knowest how to\nburnish swords?\" \"I know full well how to do so,\" answered Kay.\nThen was the sword of Gwernach brought to him. And Kay took a blue\nwhetstone from under his arm, and asked whether he would have it\nburnished white or blue. \"Do with it as it seems good to thee, or\nas thou wouldst if it were thine own.\" Then Kay polished one half\nof the blade, and put it in his hand. \"Will this please thee?\"\nasked he. \"I would rather than all that is in my dominions that\nthe whole of it were like this. It is a marvel to me that such a\nman as thou should be without a companion.\" \"O noble sir, I have a\ncompanion, albeit he is not skilled in this art.\" \"Who may he be?\"\n\"Let the porter go forth, and I will tell him whereby he may know\nhim. The head of his lance will leave its shaft, and draw blood\nfrom the wind, and will descend upon its shaft again.\" Then the\ngate was opened, and Bedwyr entered. And Kay said, \"Bedwyr is very\nskilful, though he knows not this art.\"\n\nAnd there was much discourse among those who were without, because\nthat Kay and Bedwyr had gone in. And a young man who was with\nthem, the only son of the herdsman, got in also; and he contrived\nto admit all the rest, but they kept themselves concealed.\n\nThe sword was now polished, and Kay gave it unto the hand of\nGwernach the Giant, to see if he were pleased with his work. And\nthe giant said, \"The work is good; I am content therewith.\" Said\nKay, \"It is thy scabbard that hath rusted thy sword; give it to\nme, that I may take out the wooden sides of it, and put in new\nones.\" And he took the scabbard from him, and the sword in the\nother hand. And he came and stood over against the giant, as if he\nwould have put the sword into the scabbard; and with it he struck\nat the head of the giant, and cut off his head at one blow. Then\nthey despoiled the castle, and took from it what goods and jewels\nthey would. And they returned to Arthur's court, bearing with them\nthe sword of Gwernach the Giant.\n\nAnd when they told Arthur how they had sped, Arthur said, \"It is a\ngood beginning.\" Then they took counsel, and said, \"Which of these\nmarvels will it be best for us to seek next?\" \"It will be best,\"\nsaid one, \"to seek Mabon, the son of Modron; and he will not be\nfound unless we first find Eidoel, the son of Aer, his kinsman.\"\nThen Arthur rose up, and the warriors of the island of Britain\nwith him, to seek for Eidoel; and they proceeded until they came\nto the castle of Glivi, where Eidoel was imprisoned. Glivi stood\non the summit of his castle, and he said, \"Arthur, what requirest\nthou of me, since nothing remains to me in this fortress, and I\nhave neither joy nor pleasure in it, neither wheat nor oats? Seek\nnot, therefore, to do me harm.\" Said Arthur, \"Not to injure thee\ncame I hither, but to seek for the prisoner that is with thee.\" \"I\nwill give thee my prisoner, though I had not thought to give him\nup to any one, and therewith shalt thou have my support and my\naid.\"\n\nHis followers said unto Arthur, \"Lord, go thou home, thou canst\nnot proceed with thy host in quest of such small adventures as\nthese.\" Then said Arthur, \"It were well for thee, Gurhyr Gwalstat,\nto go upon this quest, for thou knowest all languages, and art\nfamiliar with those of the birds and the beasts. Thou, Eidoel,\noughtest likewise to go with thy men in search of thy cousin. And\nas for you, Kay and Bedwyr, I have hope of whatever adventure ye\nare in quest of, that ye will achieve it. Achieve ye this\nadventure for me.\"\n\nThey went forward until they came to the Ousel of Cilgwri. And\nGurhyr adjured her, saying, \"Tell me if thou knowest aught of\nMabon, the son of Modron, who was taken when three nights old from\nbetween his mother and the wall?\" And the Ousel answered, \"When I\nfirst came here, there was a smith's anvil in this place, and I\nwas then a young bird; and from that time no work has been done\nupon it, save the pecking of my beak every evening; and now there\nis not so much as the size of a nut remaining thereof; yet during\nall that time I have never heard of the man for whom you inquire.\nNevertheless, I will do that which it is fitting that I should for\nan embassy from Arthur. There is a race of animals who were formed\nbefore me, and I will be your guide to them.\"\n\nSo they proceeded to the place where was the Stag of Redynvre.\n\"Stag of Redynvre, behold, we are come to thee, an embassy from\nArthur, for we have not heard of any animal older than thou. Say,\nknowest thou aught of Mabon, the son of Modron, who was taken from\nhis mother when three nights old?\" The Stag said, \"When first I\ncame hither there was a plain all around me, without any trees\nsave one oak sapling, which grew up to be an oak with an hundred\nbranches; and that oak has since perished, so that now nothing\nremains of it but the withered stump; and from that day to this I\nhave been here, yet have I never heard of the man for whom you\ninquire. Nevertheless, being an embassy from Arthur, I will be\nyour guide to the place where there is an animal which was formed\nbefore I was, and the oldest animal in the world, and the one that\nhas travelled most, the Eagle of Gwern Abwy.\"\n\nGurhyr said, \"Eagle of Gwern Abwy, we have come to thee, an\nembassy from Arthur, to ask thee if thou knowest aught of Mabon,\nthe son of Modron, who was taken from his mother when he was three\nnights old?\" The Eagle said, \"I have been here for a great space\nof time, and when I first came hither, there was a rock here from\nthe top of which I pecked at the stars every evening; and it has\ncrumbled away, and now it is not so much as a span high. All that\ntime I have been here, and I have never heard of the man for whom\nyou inquire, except once when I went in search of food as far as\nLlyn Llyw. And when I came there, I struck my talons into a\nsalmon, thinking he would serve me as food for a long time. But he\ndrew me into the water, and I was scarcely able to escape from\nhim. After that I made peace with him. And I drew fifty fish-\nspears out of his back, and relieved him. Unless he know something\nof him whom you seek, I cannot tell who may. However, I will guide\nyou to the place where he is.\"\n\nSo they went thither; and the Eagle said, \"Salmon of Llyn Llyw, I\nhave come to thee with an embassy from Arthur, to ask thee if thou\nknowest aught of Mabon, the son of Modron, who was taken away at\nthree nights old from his mother.\" \"As much as I know I will tell\nthee. With every tide I go along the river upward, until I come\nnear to the walls of Gloucester, and there have I found such wrong\nas I never found elsewhere; and to the end that ye may give\ncredence thereto, let one of you go thither upon each of my two\nshoulders.\" So Kay and Gurhyr Gwalstat went upon the two shoulders\nof the Salmon, and they proceeded until they came unto the wall of\nthe prison; and they heard a great wailing and lamenting from the\ndungeon. Said Gurhyr, \"Who is it that laments in this house of\nstone?\" \"Alas! it is Mabon, the son of Modron, who is here\nimprisoned; and no imprisonment was ever so grievous as mine.\"\n\"Hast thou hope of being released for gold or for silver, or for\nany gifts of wealth, or through battle and fighting?\" \"By fighting\nwill what ever I may gain be obtained.\"\n\nThen they went thence, and returned to Arthur, and they told him\nwhere Mabon, the son of Modron, was imprisoned. And Arthur\nsummoned the warriors of the island, and they journeyed as far as\nGloucester, to the place where Mabon was in prison. Kay and Bedwyr\nwent upon the shoulders of the fish, whilst the warriors of Arthur\nattacked the castle. And Kay broke through the wall into the\ndungeon, and brought away the prisoner upon his back, whilst the\nfight was going on between the warriors. And Arthur returned home,\nand Mabon with him at liberty.\n\nOn a certain day as Gurhyr Gwalstat was walking over a mountain,\nhe heard a wailing and a grievous cry. And when he heard it, he\nsprang forward and went towards it. And when he came there, he saw\na fire burning among the turf, and an ant-hill nearly surrounded\nwith the fire. And he drew his sword, and smote off the ant-hill\nclose to the earth, so that it escaped being burned in the fire.\nAnd the ants said to him, \"Receive from us the blessing of Heaven,\nand that which no man can give, we give thee.\" Then they fetched\nthe nine bushels of flax-seed which Yspadaden Penkawr had required\nof Kilwich, and they brought the full measure, without lacking\nany, except one flax-seed, and that the lame pismire brought in\nbefore night.\n\nThen said Arthur, \"Which of the marvels will it be best for us to\nseek next?\" \"It will be best to seek for the two cubs of the wolf\nGast Rhymhi.\"\n\n\"Is it known,\" said Arthur, \"where she is?\" \"She is in Aber\nCleddyf,\" said one. Then Arthur went to the house of Tringad, in\nAber Cleddyf, and he inquired of him whether he had heard of her\nthere. \"She has often slain my herds, and she is there below in a\ncave in Aber Cleddyf.\"\n\nTher Arthur went in his ship Prydwen by sea, and the others went\nby land to hunt her. And they surrounded her and her two cubs, and\ntook them and carried them away.\n\nAs Kay and Bedwyr sat on a beacon-cairn on the summit of\nPlinlimmon, in the highest wind that ever was, they looked around\nthem and saw a great smoke, afar off. Then said Kay, \"By the hand\nof my friend, yonder is the fire of a robber.\" Then they hastened\ntowards the smoke, and they came so near to it that they could see\nDillus Varwawc scorching a wild boar. \"Behold, yonder is the\ngreatest robber that ever fled from Arthur,\" said Bedwyr to Kay.\n\"Dost thou know him?\" \"I do know him,\" answered Kay; \"he is Dillus\nVarwarc, and no leash in the world will be able to hold the cubs\nof Gast Rhymi, save a leash made from the beard of him thou seest\nyonder. And even that will be useless unless his beard be plucked\nout alive, with wooden tweezers; for if dead it will be brittle.\"\n\"What thinkest thou that we should do concerning this?\" said\nBedwyr. \"Let us suffer him.\" said Kay, \"to eat as much as he will\nof the meat, and after that he will fall asleep.\" And during that\ntime they employed themselves in making the wooden tweezers. And\nwhen Kay knew certainly that he was asleep, he made a pit under\nhis feet, and he struck him a violent blow, and squeezed him into\nthe pit. And there they twitched out his beard completely with the\nwooden tweezers, and after that they slew him altogether. And from\nthence they went, and took the leash made of Dillus Varwawc's\nbeard, and they gave it into Arthur's hand.\n\nThus they got all the marvels that Yspadaden Penkawr had required\nof Kilwich; and they set forward, and took the marvels to his\ncourt. And Kilwich said to Yspadaden Penkawr, \"Is thy daughter\nmine now?\" \"She is thine,\" said he, \"but therefore needest thou\nnot thank me, but Arthur, who hath accomplished this for thee.\"\nThen Goreu, the son of Custennin, the herdsman, whose brothers\nYspadaden Penkawr had slain, seized him by the hair of his head,\nand dragged him after him to the keep, and cut off his head, and\nplaced it on a stake on the citadel. Then they took possession of\nhis castle, and of his treasures. And that night Olwen became\nKilwich's bride, and she continued to be his wife as long as she\nlived.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nTALIESIN\n\n\nGwyddno Garanhir was sovereign of Gwaelod, a territory bordering\non the sea. And he possessed a weir upon the strand between Dyvi\nand Aberystwyth, near to his own castle, and the value of an\nhundred pounds was taken in that weir every May eve. And Gwyddno\nhad an only son named Elphin, the most hapless of youths, and the\nmost needy. And it grieved his father sore, for he thought that he\nwas born in an evil hour. By the advice of his council, his father\nhad granted him the drawing of the weir that year, to see if good\nluck would ever befall him, and to give him something wherewith to\nbegin the world. And this was on the twenty-ninth of April.\n\nThe next day, when Elphin went to look, there was nothing in the\nweir but a leathern bag upon a pole of the weir. Then said the\nweir-ward unto Elphin, \"All thy ill-luck aforetime was nothing to\nthis; and now thou hast destroyed the virtues of the weir, which\nalways yielded the value of an hundred pounds every May eve; and\nto-night there is nothing but this leathern skin within it.\" \"How\nnow,\" said Elphin, \"there may be therein the value of a hundred\npounds.\" Well! they took up the leathern bag, and he who opened it\nsaw the forehead of an infant, the fairest that ever was seen; and\nhe said, \"Behold a radiant brow?\" (In the Welsh language,\ntaliesin.) \"Taliesin be he called,\" said Elphin. And he lifted the\nbag in his arms, and, lamenting his bad luck, placed the boy\nsorrowfully behind him. And he made his horse amble gently, that\nbefore had been trotting, and he carried him as softly as if he\nhad been sitting in the easiest chair in the world. And presently\nthe boy made a Consolation, and praise to Elphin; and the\nConsolation was as you may here see:\n\n   \"Fair Elphin, cease to lament!\n    Never in Gwyddno's weir\n    Was there such good luck as this night.\n    Being sad will not avail;\n    Better to trust in God than to forbode ill;\n    Weak and small as I am,\n    On the foaming beach of the ocean,\n    In the day of trouble I shall be\n    Of more service to thee than three hundred salmon.\"\n\nThis was the first poem that Taliesin ever sung, being to console\nElphin in his grief for that the produce of the weir was lost, and\nwhat was worse, that all the world would consider that it was\nthrough his fault and ill-luck. Then Elphin asked him what he\nwas, whether man or spirit. And he sung thus:\n\n   \"I have been formed a comely person;\n    Although I am but little, I am highly gifted;\n    Into a dark leathern bag I was thrown,\n    And on a boundless sea I was sent adrift.\n    From seas and from mountains\n    God brings wealth to the fortunate man.\"\n\nThen came Elphin to the house of Gwyddno, his father, and Taliesin\nwith him. Gwyddno asked him if he had had a good haul at the weir,\nand he told him that he had got that which was better than fish.\n\"What was that?\" said Gwyddno. \"A bard,\" said Elphin. Then said\nGwyddno, \"Alas! what will he profit thee?\" And Taliesin himself\nreplied and said, \"He will profit him more than the weir ever\nprofited thee.\" Asked Gwyddno, \"Art thou able to speak, and thou\nso little?\" And Taliesin answered him, \"I am better able to speak\nthan thou to question me.\" \"Let me hear what thou canst say,\"\nquoth Gwyddno. Then Taliesin sang:\n\n   \"Three times have I been born, I know by meditation;\n   All the sciences of the world are collected in my breast,\n   For I know what has been, and what hereafter will occur.\"\n\nElphin gave his haul to his wife, and she nursed him tenderly and\nlovingly. Thenceforward Elphin increased in riches more and more,\nday after day, and in love and favor with the king; and there\nabode Taliesin until he was thirteen years old, when Elphin, son\nof Gwyddno, went by a Christmas invitation to his uncle, Maelgan\nGwynedd, who held open court at Christmas-tide in the castle of\nDyganwy, for all the number of his lords of both degrees, both\nspiritual and temporal, with a vast and thronged host of knights\nand squires. And one arose and said, \"Is there in the whole world\na king so great as Maelgan, or one on whom Heaven has bestowed so\nmany gifts as upon him;--form, and beauty, and meekness, and\nstrength, besides all the powers of the soul?\" And together with\nthese they said that Heaven had given one gift that exceeded all\nthe others, which was the beauty, and grace, and wisdom, and\nmodesty of his queen, whose virtues surpassed those of all the\nladies and noble maidens throughout the whole kingdom. And with\nthis they put questions one to another, Who had braver men? Who\nhad fairer or swifter horses or greyhounds? Who had more skilful\nor wiser bards than Maelgan?\n\nWhen they had all made an end of their praising the king and his\ngifts, it befell that Elphin spoke on this wise. \"Of a truth, none\nbut a king may vie with a king; but were he not a king, I would\nsay that my wife was as virtuous as any lady in the kingdom, and\nalso that I have a bard who is more skilful than all the king's\nbards.\" In a short space some of his fellows told the king all the\nboastings of Elphin; and the king ordered him to be thrown into a\nstrong prison, until he might show the truth as to the virtues of\nhis wife, and the wisdom of his bard.\n\nNow when Elphin had been put in a tower of the castle, with a\nthick chain about his feet (it is said that it was a silver chain,\nbecause he was of royal blood), the king, as the story relates,\nsent his son Rhun to inquire into the demeanor of Elphin's wife.\nNow Rhun was the most graceless man in the world, and there was\nneither wife nor maiden with whom he held converse but was evil\nspoken of. While Rhun went in haste towards Elphin's dwelling,\nbeing fully minded to bring disgrace upon his wife, Taliesin told\nhis mistress how that the king had placed his master in durance in\nprison, and how that Rhun was coming in haste to strive to bring\ndisgrace upon her. Wherefore he caused his mistress to array one\nof the maids of her kitchen in her apparel; which the noble lady\ngladly did, and she loaded her hands with the best rings that she\nand her husband possessed.\n\nIn this guise Taliesin caused his mistress to put the maiden to\nsit at the board in her room at supper; and he made her to seem as\nher mistress, and the mistress to seem as the maid. And when they\nwere in due time seated at their supper, in the manner that has\nbeen said, Rhun suddenly arrived at Elphin's dwelling, and was\nreceived with joy, for the servants knew him; and they brought him\nto the room of their mistress, in the semblance of whom the maid\nrose up from supper and welcomed him gladly. And afterwards she\nsat down to supper again, and Rhun with her. Then Rhun began\njesting with the maid, who still kept the semblance of her\nmistress. And verily this story shows that the maiden became so\nintoxicated that she fell asleep; and the story relates that it\nwas a powder that Rhun put into the drink, that made her sleep so\nsoundly that she never felt it when he cut off from her hand her\nlittle finger, whereon was the signet ring of Elphin, which he had\nsent to his wife as a token a short time before. And Rhun returned\nto the king with the finger and the ring as a proof, to show that\nhe had cut it off from her hand without her awaking from her sleep\nof intemperance.\n\nThe king rejoiced greatly at these tidings, and he sent for his\ncouncillors, to whom he told the whole story from the beginning.\nAnd he caused Elphin to be brought out of prison, and he chided\nhim because of his boast. And he spake on this wise: \"Elphin, be\nit known to thee beyond a doubt, that it is but folly for a man to\ntrust in the virtues of his wife further than he can see her; and\nthat thou mayest be certain of thy wife's vileness, behold her\nfinger, with thy signet ring upon it, which was cut from her hand\nlast night, while she slept the sleep of intoxication.\" Then thus\nspake Elphin: \"With thy leave, mighty king, I cannot deny my ring,\nfor it is known of many; but verily I assert that the finger\naround which it is was never attached to the hand of my wife; for\nin truth and certainty there are three notable things pertaining\nto it, none of which ever belonged to any of my wife's fingers.\nThe first of the three is, that it is certainly known to me that\nthis ring would never remain upon her thumb, whereas you can\nplainly see that it is hard to draw it over the joint of the\nlittle finger of the hand whence this was cut. The second thing\nis, that my wife has never let pass one Saturday since I have\nknown her, without paring her nails before going to bed, and you\ncan see fully that the nail of this little finger has not been\npared for a month. The third is, truly, that the hand whence this\nfinger came was kneading rye dough within three days before the\nfinger was cut therefrom, and I can assure your highness that my\nwife has never kneaded rye dough since my wife she has been.\"\n\nThe king was mightily wroth with Elphin for so stoutly\nwithstanding him, respecting the goodness of his wife; wherefore\nhe ordered him to his prison a second time, saying that he should\nnot be loosed thence until he had proved the truth of his boast,\nas well concerning the wisdom of his bard as the virtues of his\nwife.\n\nIn the meantime his wife and Taliesin remained joyful at Elphin's\ndwelling. And Taliesin showed his mistress how that Elphin was in\nprison because of them; but he bade her be glad, for that he would\ngo to Maelgan's court to free his master. So he took leave of his\nmistress, and came to the court of Maelgan, who was going to sit\nin his hall, and dine in his royal state, as it was the custom in\nthose days for kings and princes to do at every chief feast. As\nsoon as Taliesin entered the hall he placed himself in a quiet\ncorner, near the place where the bards and the minstrels were wont\nto come, in doing their service and duty to the king, as is the\ncustom at the high festivals, when the bounty is proclaimed. So,\nwhen the bards and the heralds came to cry largess, and to\nproclaim the power of the king, and his strength, at the moment\nwhen they passed by the corner wherein he was crouching, Taliesin\npouted out his lips after them, and played \"Blerwm, blerwm!\" with\nhis finger upon his lips. Neither took they much notice of him as\nthey went by but proceeded forward till they came before the king,\nunto whom they made their obeisance with their bodies, as they\nwere wont, without speaking a single word, but pouting out their\nlips, and making mouths at the king, playing, \"Blerwm, blerwm!\"\nupon their lips with their fingers, as they had seen the boy do.\nThis sight caused the king to wonder, and to deem within himself\nthat they were drunk with many liquors. Wherefore he commanded one\nof his lords, who served at the board, to go to them and desire\nthem to collect their wits, and to consider where they stood, and\nwhat it was fitting for them to do. And this lord did so gladly.\nBut they ceased not from their folly any more than before.\nWhereupon he sent to them a second time, and a third, desiring\nthem to go forth from the hall. At the last the king ordered one\nof his squires to give a blow to the chief of them, named Heinin\nVardd; and the squire took a broom and struck him on the head, so\nthat he fell back in his seat. Then he arose, and went on his\nknees, and besought leave of the king's grace to show that this\ntheir fault was not through want of knowledge, neither through\ndrunkenness, but by the influence of some spirit that was in the\nhall. And he spoke on this wise: \"O honorable king, be it known to\nyour grace that not from the strength of drink, or of too much\nliquor, are we dumb, but through the influence of a spirit that\nsits in the corner yonder, in the form of a child.\" Forthwith the\nking commanded the squire to fetch him; and he went to the nook\nwhere Taliesin sat, and brought him before the king, who asked him\nwhat he was, and whence he came. And he answered the king in\nverse:\n\n    \"Primary chief bard am I to Elphin,\n     And my native country is the region of the summer stars;\n     I have been in Asia with Noah in the ark,\n     I have seen the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah,\n     I was in India when Rome was built,\n     I have now come here to the remnant of Troia.\"\n\nWhen the king and his nobles had heard the song, they wondered\nmuch, for they had never heard the like from a boy so young as he.\nAnd when the king knew that he was the bard of Elphin he bade\nHeinin, his first and wisest bard, to answer Taliesin, and to\nstrive with him. But when he came he could do no other than play\n\"Blerwm!\" on his lips; and when he sent for the others of the four\nand twenty bards, they all did likewise, and could do no other.\nAnd Maelgan asked the boy Taliesin what was his errand, and he\nanswered him in song:\n\n    \"Elphin, the son of Gwyddno,\n    Is in the land of Artro,\n    Secured by thirteen locks,\n    For praising his instructor.\n    Therefore I, Taliesin,\n    Chief of the bards of the west,\n    Will loosen Elphin\n    Out of a golden fetter.\"\n\nThen he sang to them a riddle:\n\n    \"Discover thou what is\n     The strong creature from before the flood,\n     Without flesh, without bone,\n     Without vein, without blood,\n     Without head, without feet;\n     It will neither be older nor younger\n    Than at the beginning.\n    Behold how the sea whitens\n    When first it comes,\n    When it comes from the south,\n    When it strikes on coasts\n    It is in the field, it is in the wood,\n    But the eye cannot perceive it.\n    One Being has prepared it,\n    By a tremendous blast,\n    To wreak vengeance\n    On Maelgan Gwynedd.\"\n\nWhile he was thus singing his verse, there arose a mighty storm of\nwind, so that the king and all his nobles thought that the castle\nwould fall upon their heads. And the king caused them to fetch\nElphin in haste from his dungeon, and placed him before Taliesin.\nAnd it is said that immediately he sung a verse, so that the\nchains opened from about his feet.\n\nAfter that Taliesin brought Elphin's wife before them, and showed\nthat she had not one finger wanting. And in this manner did he set\nhis master free from prison, and protect the innocence of his\nmistress, and silence the bards so that not one of them dared to\nsay a word. Right glad was Elphin, right glad was Taliesin.\n\n\n\n\n\nHERO MYTHS OF THE BRITISH RACE\n\n\n\n\n\nBEOWULF\n\n\nNotable among the names of heroes of the British race is that of\nBeowulf, which appeals to all English-speaking people in a very\nspecial way, since he is the one hero in whose story we may see\nthe ideals of our English forefathers before they left their\nContinental home to cross to the islands of Britain.\n\nAlthough this hero had distinguished himself by numerous feats of\nstrength during his boyhood and early youth, it was as the\ndeliverer of Hrothgar, king of Denmark, from the monster Grendel\nthat he first gained wide renown. Grendel was half monster and\nhalf man, and had his abode in the fen-fastnesses in the vicinity\nof Hrothgar's residence. Night after night he would steal into the\nking's great palace called Heorot and slay sometimes as many as\nthirty at one time of the knights sleeping there.\n\nBeowulf put himself at the head of a selected band of warriors,\nwent against the monster, and after a terrible fight slew it. The\nfollowing night Grendel's mother, a fiend scarcely less terrible\nthan her son, carried off one of Hrothgar's boldest thanes. Once\nmore Beowulf went to the help of the Danish king, followed the\nshe-monster to her lair at the bottom of a muddy lake in the midst\nof the swamp, and with his good sword Hrunting and his own\nmuscular arms broke the sea-woman's neck.\n\nUpon his return to his own country of the Geats, loaded with\nhonors bestowed upon him by Hrothgar, Beowulf served the king of\nGeatland as the latter's most trusted counsellor and champion.\nWhen, after many years, the king fell before an enemy, the Geats\nunanimously chose Beowulf for their new king. His fame as a\nwarrior kept his country free from invasion, and his wisdom as a\nstatesman increased its prosperity and happiness.\n\nIn the fiftieth year of Beowulf's reign, however, a great terror\nfell upon the land in the way of a monstrous fire-dragon, which\nflew forth by night from its den in the rocks, lighting up the\nblackness with its blazing breath, and burning houses and\nhomesteads, men and cattle, with the flames from its mouth. When\nthe news came to Beowulf that his people were suffering and dying,\nand that no warrior dared to risk his life in an effort to deliver\nthe country from this deadly devastation, the aged king took up\nhis shield and sword and went forth to his last fight. At the\nentrance of the dragon's cave Beowulf raised his voice and shouted\na furious defiance to the awesome guardian of the den. Roaring\nhideously and napping his glowing wings together, the dragon\nrushed forth and half flew, half sprang, on Beowulf. Then began a\nfearful combat, which ended in Beowulf's piercing the dragon's\nscaly armor and inflicting a mortal wound, but alas! in himself\nbeing given a gash in the neck by his opponent's poisoned fangs\nwhich resulted in his death. As he lay stretched on the ground,\nhis head supported by Wiglaf, an honored warrior who had helped in\nthe fight with the dragon, Beowulf roused himself to say, as he\ngrasped Wiglaf's hand:\n\n   \"Thou must now look to the needs of the nation;\n    Here dwell I no longer, for Destiny calleth me!\n    Bid thou my warriors after my funeral pyre\n    Build me a burial-cairn high on the sea-cliff's head;\n    So that the seafarers Beowulf's Barrow\n    Henceforth shall name it, they who drive far and wide\n    Over the mighty flood their foamy keels.\n    Thou art the last of all the kindred of Wagmund!\n    Wyrd has swept all my kin, all the brave chiefs away!\n    Now must I follow them!\"\n\nThese last words spoken, the king of the Geats, brave to seek\ndanger and brave to look on death and Fate undaunted, fell back\ndead. According to his last desires, his followers gathered wood\nand piled it on the cliff-head. Upon this funeral pyre was laid\nBeowulf's body and consumed to ashes. Then, upon the same cliff of\nHronesness, was erected a huge burial cairn, wide-spread and\nlofty, to be known thereafter as Beowulf's Barrow.\n\n\n\n\n\nCUCHULAIN, CHAMPION OF IRELAND\n\n\nAmong all the early literatures of Europe, there are two which, at\nexactly opposite corners of the continent, display most strikingly\nsimilar characteristics. These are the Greek and the Irish, and\nthe legend of the Irish champion Cuchulain, which well illustrates\nthe similarity of the literatures, bears so close a resemblance to\nthe story of Achilles as to win for this hero the title of \"the\nIrish Achilles.\" Certainly in reckless courage, power of inspiring\ndread, sense of personal merit, and frankness of speech the Irish\nhero is fully equal to the mighty Greek.\n\nCuchulain was the nephew of King Conor of Ulster, son of his\nsister Dechtire, and it is said that his father was no mortal man,\nbut the great god Lugh of the Long Hand. Cuchulain was brought up\nby King Conor himself, and even while he was still a boy his fame\nspread all over Ireland. His warlike deeds were those of a proved\nwarrior, not of a child of nursery age; and by the time Cuchulain\nwas seventeen he was without peer among the champions of Ulster.\n\nUpon Cuchulain's marriage to Emer, daughter of Forgall the Wily, a\nDruid of great power, the couple took up their residence at\nArmagh, the capital of Ulster, under the protection of King Conor.\nHere there was one chief, Bricriu of the Bitter Tongue, who, like\nThersites among the Grecian leaders, delighted in making mischief.\nSoon he had on foot plans for stirring up strife among the heroes\nof Ulster, leaders among whom were the mighty Laegaire, Conall\nCearnach, cousin of Cuchulain, and Cuchulain himself. Inviting the\nmembers of King Conor's court to dinner, Bricriu arranged that a\ncontest should arise over who should have the \"champion's\nportion,\" and so successful was he that, to avoid a bloody fight,\nthe three heroes mentioned decided to submit their claims to the\nchampionship of Ireland to King Ailill of Connaught.\n\nAilill put the heroes to an unexpected test. Their dinner was\nserved them in a separate room, into which three magic beasts, in\nthe shape of monstrous cats, were sent by the king. When they saw\nthem Laegire and Conall rose from their meal, climbed among the\nrafters, and stayed there all night. Cuchulain waited until one\ncat attacked him, and then, drawing his sword, struck the monster.\nIt showed no further sign of fight, and at daybreak the magic\nbeasts disappeared.\n\nAs Laegire and Conall claimed that this test was an unfair one,\nAilill sent the three rivals to Curoi of Kerry, a just and wise\nman, who set out to discover by wizardry and enchantments the best\namong the heroes. In turn they stood watch outside Curoi's castle,\nwhere Laegire and Conall were overcome by a huge giant, who hurled\nspears of mighty oak trees, and ended by throwing them over the\nwall into the courtyard. Cuchulain alone withstood the giant,\nwhereupon he was attacked by other magic foes. Among these was a\ndragon, which flew on horrible wings from a neighboring lake, and\nseemed ready to devour everything in its way. Cuchulain sprang up,\ngiving his wonderful hero-leap, thrust his arm into the dragon's\nmouth and down its throat, and tore out its heart. After the\nmonster fell dead, he cut off its scaly head.\n\nAs even yet Cuchulain's opponents would not admit his\nchampionship, they were all three directed to return to Armagh, to\nawait Curoi's judgment. Here it happened that all the Ulster\nheroes were in the great hall one night, except Cuchulain and his\ncousin Conall. As they sat in order of rank, a terrible stranger,\ngigantic in stature, hideous of aspect, with ravening yellow eyes,\nentered. In his hand he bore an enormous axe, with keen and\nshining edge. Upon King Conor's inquiring his business there, the\nstranger replied:\n\n\"Behold my axe! The man who will grasp it to-day may cut my head\noff with it, provided that I may, in like manner, cut off his head\nto-morrow. If you have no champion who dare face me, I will say\nthat Ulster has lost her courage and is dishonored.\"\n\nAt once Laegire accepted the challenge. The giant laid his head on\na block, and at a blow the hero severed it from the body.\nThereupon the giant arose, took the head and the axe, and thus,\nheadless, strode from the hall. But the following night, when he\nreturned, sound as ever, to claim the fulfilment of Laegire's\npromise, the latter's heart failed him and he did not come\nforward. The stranger then jeered at the men of Ulster because\ntheir great champion durst not keep his agreement, nor face the\nblow he should receive in return for the one he gave.\n\nThe men of Ulster were utterly ashamed, but Conall Cearnach, who\nwas present that night, made a new agreement with the stranger. He\ngave a blow which beheaded the giant, but again, when the latter\nreturned whole and sound on the following evening, the champion\nwas not to be found.\n\nNow it was the turn of Cuchulain, who, as the others had done, cut\noff the giant's head at one stroke. The next day the members of\nConor's court watched Cuchulain to see what he would do. They\nwould not have been surprised if he had failed like the others,\nwho now were present. The champion, however, showed no signs of\nfailing or retreat. He sat sorrowfully in his place, and with a\nsigh said to King Conor as they waited: \"Do not leave this place\ntill all is over. Death is coming to me very surely, but I must\nfulfil my agreement, for I would rather die than break my word.\"\n\nTowards the close of day the stranger strode into the hall\nexultant.\n\n\"Where is Cuchulain?\" he cried.\n\n\"Here I am,\" was the reply.\n\n\"Ah, poor boy! your speech is sad to-night, and the fear of death\nlies heavy on you; but at least you have redeemed your word and\nhave not failed me.\"\n\nThe youth rose from his seat and went towards him, as he stood\nwith the great axe ready, and knelt to receive the blow.\n\nThe hero of Ulster laid his head on the block; but the giant was\nnot satisfied. \"Stretch out your neck better,\" said he.\n\n\"You are playing with me, to torment me,\" said Cuchulain. \"Slay me\nnow speedily, for I did not keep you waiting last night.\"\n\nHowever, he stretched out his neck as ordered, and the stranger\nraised his axe till it crashed upwards through the rafters of the\nhall, like the crash of trees falling in a storm. When the axe\ncame down with a terrific sound all men looked fearfully at\nCuchulain. The descending axe had not even touched him; it had\ncome down with the blunt side on the ground, and the youth knelt\nthere unharmed. Smiling at him, and leaning on his axe, stood no\nterrible and hideous stranger, but Curoi of Kerry, come to give\nhis decision at last.\n\n\"Rise up, Cuchulain,\" said Curoi. \"There is none among all the\nheroes of Ulster to equal you in courage and loyalty and truth.\nThe Championship of the Heroes of Ireland is yours from this day\nforth, and the Champion's Portion at all feasts; and to your wife\nI adjudge the first place among all the women of Ulster. Woe to\nhim who dares to dispute this decision!\" Thereupon Curoi vanished,\nand the warriors gathered around Cuchulain, and all with one voice\nacclaimed him the Champion of the Heroes of all Ireland--a title\nwhich has clung to him until this day.\n\nThis is one of many stories told of the Irish champion, whose\ndeeds of bravery would fill many pages. Cuchulain finally came to\nhis end on the field of battle, after a fight in which he\ndisplayed all his usual gallantry but in which unfair means were\nused to overcome him.\n\nFor Wales and for England during centuries Arthur has been the\nrepresentative \"very gentle perfect knight.\" In a similar way, in\nEngland's sister isle, Cuchulain stands ever for the highest\nideals of the Irish Gaels.\n\n\n\n\n\nHEREWARD THE WAKE\n\n\nIn Hereward the Wake (or \"Watchful\") is found one of those heroes\nwhose date can be ascertained with a fair amount of exactness and\nyet in whose story occur mythological elements which seem to\nbelong to all ages. The folklore of primitive races is a great\nstorehouse whence a people can choose tales and heroic deeds to\nglorify its own national hero, careless that the same tales and\ndeeds have done duty for other peoples and other heroes. Hence it\nhappens that Hereward the Saxon, a patriot hero as real and actual\nas Nelson or George Washington, whose deeds were recorded in prose\nand verse within forty years of his death, was even then\nsurrounded by a cloud of romance and mystery, which hid in\nvagueness his family, his marriage, and even his death.\n\nBriefly it may be stated that Hereward was a native of\nLincolnshire, and was in his prime about 1070. In that year he\njoined a party of Danes who appeared in England, attacked\nPeterborough and sacked the abbey there, and afterward took refuge\nin the Isle of Ely. Here he was besieged by William the Conqueror,\nand was finally forced to yield to the Norman. He thus came to\nstand for the defeated Saxon race, and his name has been passed\ndown as that of the darling hero of the Saxons. For his splendid\ndefence of Ely they forgave his final surrender to Duke William;\nthey attributed to him all the virtues supposed to be inherent in\nthe free-born, and all the glorious valor on which the English\nprided themselves; and, lastly, they surrounded his death with a\nhalo of desperate fighting, and made his last conflict as\nwonderful as that of Roland at Roncesvalles. If Roland is the\nideal of Norman feudal chivalry, Hereward is equally the ideal of\nAnglo-Saxon sturdy manliness and knighthood.\n\nAn account of one of Hereward's adventures as a youth will serve\nas illustration of the stories told of his prowess. On an enforced\nvisit to Cornwall, he found that King Alef, a petty British chief,\nhad betrothed his fair daughter to a terrible Pictish giant,\nbreaking off, in order to do it, her troth-plight with Prince\nSigtryg of Waterford, son of a Danish king in Ireland. Hereward,\never chivalrous, picked a quarrel with the giant and killed him in\nfair fight, whereupon the king threw him into prison. In the\nfollowing night, however, the released princess arranged that the\ngallant Saxon should be freed and sent hot-foot for her lover,\nPrince Sigtryg. After many adventures Hereward reached the prince,\nwho hastened to return to Cornwall with the young hero. But to the\ngrief of both, they learned upon their arrival that the princess\nhad just been betrothed to a wild Cornish hero, Haco, and the\nwedding feast was to be held that very day. Sigtryg at once sent a\ntroop of forty Danes to King Alef demanding the fulfilment of the\ntroth-plight between himself and his daughter, and threatening\nvengeance if it were broken. To this threat the king returned no\nanswer, and no Dane came back to tell of their reception.\n\nSigtryg would have waited till morning, trusting in the honor of\nthe king, but Hereward disguised himself as a minstrel and\nobtained admission to the bridal feast, where he soon won applause\nby his beautiful singing. The bridegroom, Haco, in a rapture\noffered him any boon he liked to ask, but he demanded only a cup\nof wine from the hands of the bride. When she brought it to him he\nflung into the empty cup the betrothal ring, the token she had\nsent to Sigtryg, and said: \"I thank thee, lady, and would reward\nthee for thy gentleness to a wandering minstrel; I give back the\ncup, richer than before by the kind thoughts of which it bears the\ntoken.\" The princess looked at him, gazed into the goblet, and saw\nher ring; then, looking again, she recognized her deliverer and\nknew that rescue was at hand.\n\nWhile men feasted Hereward listened and talked, and found out that\nthe forty Danes were prisoners, to be released on the morrow when\nHaco was sure of his bride, but released useless and miserable,\nsince they would be turned adrift blinded. Haco was taking his\nlovely bride back to his own land, and Hereward saw that any\nrescue, to be successful, must be attempted on the march.\n\nReturning to Sigtryg, the young Saxon told all that he had\nlearned, and the Danes planned an ambush in the ravine where Haco\nhad decided to blind and set free his captives. The whole was\ncarried out exactly as Hereward arranged it. The Cornishmen, with\nthe Danish captives, passed first without attack; next came Haco,\nriding grim and ferocious beside his silent bride, he exulting in\nhis success, she looking eagerly for any signs of rescue. As they\npassed Hereward sprang from his shelter, crying, \"Upon them,\nDanes, and set your brethren free!\" and himself struck down Haco\nand smote off his head. There was a short struggle, but soon the\nrescued Danes were able to aid their deliverers, and the Cornish\nguards were all slain; the men of King Alef, never very zealous\nfor the cause of Haco, fled, and the Danes were left masters of\nthe field.\n\nSigtryg had in the meantime seen to the safety of the princess,\nand now, placing her between himself and Hereward, he escorted her\nto the ship, which soon brought them to Waterford and a happy\nbridal. The Prince and Princess of Waterford always recognized in\nHereward their deliverer and best friend, and in their gratitude\nwished him to dwell with them always; but the hero's roving and\ndaring temper forbade his settling down, but rather urged him on\nto deeds of arms in other lands, where he quickly won a renown\nsecond to none.\n\n\n\n\n\nROBIN HOOD\n\n\nAmong the earliest heirlooms of the Anglo-Saxon tongue are the\nsongs and legends of Robin Hood and his merry outlaws, which have\ncharmed readers young and old for more than six hundred years.\nThese entertaining stories date back to the time when Chaucer\nwrote his \"Canterbury Tales,\" when the minstrel and scribe stood\nin the place of the more prim and precise modern printed book.\n\nThe question of whether or not Robin Hood was a real person has\nbeen asked for many years, just as a similar question has been\nasked about William Tell and others whom everyone would much\nrather accept on faith. It cannot be answered by a brief \"yes\" or\n\"no,\" even though learned men have pored over ancient records and\nhave written books on the subject. According to the general belief\nRobin was an outlaw in the reign of Richard I, when in the depths\nof Sherwood Forest he entertained one hundred tall men, all good\narchers, with the spoil he took; but \"he suffered no woman to be\noppressed or otherwise molested; poore men's goods he spared,\nabundantlie relieving them with that which by theft he got from\nabbeys and houses of rich carles.\" Consequently Robin was an\nimmense favorite with the common people.\n\nThis popularity extended from the leader to all the members of his\nhardy band. \"God save Robin Hood and all his good yeomanry\" is the\nending of many old ballads. The clever archer who could outshoot\nhis fellows, the brave yeoman inured to blows, and the man who\ncould be true to his friends through thick and thin were favorites\nfor all time; and they have been idealized in the persons of Robin\nHood and his merry outlaws.\n\nOne of the best-known stories of this picturesque figure of early\nEnglish times is that given by Sir Walter Scott in \"Ivanhoe,\"\nconcerning the archery contest during the rule or misrule of\nPrince John, in the absence of Richard from the kingdom. Robin\nHood, under the assumed name of Locksley, boldly presents himself\nat a royal tournament at Ashby, as competitor for the prize in\nshooting with the long-bow. From the eight or ten archers who\nenter the contest, the number finally narrows down to two,--\nHubert, a forester in the service of one of the king's nobles, and\nLocksley or Robin Hood. Hubert takes the first shot in the final\ntrial of skill, and lands his arrow within the inner ring of the\ntarget, but not exactly in the centre.\n\n\"'You have not allowed for the wind, Hubert,' said Locksley, 'or\nthat had been a better shot.'\n\n\"So saying, and without showing the least anxiety to pause upon\nhis aim, Locksley stepped to the appointed station, and shot his\narrow as carelessly in appearance as if he had not even looked at\nthe mark. He was speaking almost at the instant that the shaft\nleft the bow-string, yet it alighted in the target two inches\nnearer to the white spot which marked the centre than that of\nHubert.\n\n\"'By the light of Heaven!' said Prince John to Hubert, 'an thou\nsuffer that runagate knave to overcome thee, thou art worthy of\nthe gallows!'\n\n\"Hubert had but one set speech for all occasions. 'An your\nhighness were to hang me,' he said, 'a man can but do his best.\nNevertheless, my grandsire drew a good bow--'\n\n\"'The foul fiend on thy grandsire and all his generation!'\ninterrupted John; 'shoot, knave, and shoot thy best, or it shall\nbe worse for thee!'\n\n\"Thus exhorted, Hubert resumed his place, and not neglecting the\ncaution which he had received from his adversary, he made the\nnecessary allowance for a very light air of wind, which had just\nrisen, and shot so successfully that his arrow alighted in the\nvery centre of the target.\n\n\"'A Hubert! a Hubert!' shouted the populace, more interested in a\nknown person than in a stranger. 'In the clout!--in the clout!--a\nHubert forever!'\n\n\"'Thou canst not mend that shot, Locksley,' said the Prince, with\nan insulting smile.\n\n\"'I will notch his shaft for him, however,' replied Locksley.\n\n\"And letting fly his arrow with a little more precaution than\nbefore, it lighted right upon that of his competitor, which it\nsplit to shivers. The people who stood around were so astonished\nat his wonderful dexterity, that they could not even give vent to\ntheir surprise in their usual clamor. 'This must be the devil, and\nno man of flesh and blood,' whispered the yeomen to each other;\n'such archery was never seen since a bow was first bent in\nBritain.'\n\n\"'And now,' said Locksley, 'I will crave your Grace's permission\nto plant such a mark as is used in the North Country; and welcome\nevery brave yeoman who shall try a shot at it to win a smile from\nthe bonny lass he loves best.'\"\n\nLocksley thereupon sets up a willow wand, six feet long and as\nthick as a man's thumb. Hubert is forced to decline the honor of\ntaking part in such a trial of archery skill, but his rival easily\nsplits the wand at a distance of three hundred feet and carries\noff the prize.\n\n\"Even Prince John, in admiration of Locksley's skill, lost for an\ninstant his dislike to his person. 'These twenty nobles,' he said,\n'which, with the bugle, thou hast fairly won, are thine own; we\nwill make them fifty, if thou wilt take livery and service with us\nas a yeoman of our bodyguard, and be near to our person. For never\ndid so strong a hand bend a bow, or so true an eye direct a\nshaft.'\" [Footnote: Ivanhoe, Vol. 1, chap. XIII.]\n\nLocksley, however, declares that it is impossible for him to enter\nthe Prince's service, generously shares his prize with the worthy\nHubert, and retires once more to his beloved haunts among the\nlights and shadows of the good greenwood.\n\n\n\n\n\nLEGENDS OF CHARLEMAGNE\n\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nThose who have investigated the origin of the romantic fables\nrelating to Charlemagne and his peers are of opinion that the\ndeeds of Charles Martel, and perhaps of other Charleses, have been\nblended in popular tradition with those properly belonging to\nCharlemagne. It was indeed a most momentous era; and if our\nreaders will have patience, before entering on the perusal of the\nfabulous annals which we are about to lay before them, to take a\nrapid survey of the real history of the times, they will find it\nhardly less romantic than the tales of the poets.\n\nIn the century beginning from the year 600, the countries\nbordering upon the native land of our Saviour, to the east and\nsouth, had not yet received his religion. Arabia was the seat of\nan idolatrous religion resembling that of the ancient Persians,\nwho worshipped the sun, moon, and stars. In Mecca, in the year\n571, Mahomet was born, and here, at the age of forty, he\nproclaimed himself the prophet of God, in dignity as superior to\nChrist as Christ had been to Moses. Having obtained by slow\ndegrees a considerable number of disciples, he resorted to arms to\ndiffuse his religion. The energy and zeal of his followers, aided\nby the weakness of the neighboring nations, enabled him and his\nsuccessors to spread the sway of Arabia and the religion of\nMahomet over the countries to the east as far as the Indus,\nnorthward over Persia and Asia Minor, westward over Egypt and the\nsouthern shores of the Mediterranean, and thence over the\nprincipal portion of Spain. All this was done within one hundred\nyears from the Hegira, or flight of Mahomet from Mecca to Medina,\nwhich happened in the year 622, and is the era from which\nMahometans reckon time, as we do from the birth of Christ.\n\nFrom Spain the way was open for the Saracens (so the followers of\nMahomet were called) into France, the conquest of which, if\nachieved, would have been followed very probably by that of all\nthe rest of Europe, and would have resulted in the banishment of\nChristianity from the earth. For Christianity was not at that day\nuniversally professed, even by those nations which we now regard\nas foremost in civilization. Great part of Germany, Britain,\nDenmark, and Russia were still pagan or barbarous.\n\nAt that time there ruled in France, though without the title of\nking, the first of those illustrious Charleses of whom we have\nspoken, Charles Martel, the grandfather of Charlemagne. The\nSaracens of Spain had made incursions into France in 712 and 718,\nand had retired, carrying with them a vast booty. In 725, Anbessa,\nwho was then the Saracen governor of Spain, crossed the Pyrenees\nwith a numerous army, and took by storm the strong town of\nCarcassone. So great was the terror excited by this invasion, that\nthe country for a wide extent submitted to the conqueror, and a\nMahometan governor for the province was appointed and installed at\nNarbonne. Anbessa, however, received a fatal wound in one of his\nengagements, and the Saracens, being thus checked from further\nadvance, retired to Narbonne.\n\nIn 732 the Saracens again invaded France under Abdalrahman,\nadvanced rapidly to the banks of the Garonne, and laid siege to\nBordeaux. The city was taken by assault and delivered up to the\nsoldiery. The invaders still pressed forward, and spread over the\nterritories of Orleans, Auxerre and Sens. Their advanced parties\nwere suddenly called in by their chief, who had received\ninformation of the rich abbey of St. Martin of Tours, and resolved\nto plunder and destroy it.\n\nCharles during all this time had done nothing to oppose the\nSaracens, for the reason that the portion of France over which\ntheir incursions had been made was not at that time under his\ndominion, but constituted an independent kingdom, under the name\nof Aquitaine, of which Eude was king. But now Charles became\nconvinced of the danger, and prepared to encounter it. Abdalrahman\nwas advancing toward Tours, when intelligence of the approach of\nCharles, at the head of an army of Franks, compelled him to fall\nback upon Poitiers, in order to seize an advantageous field of\nbattle.\n\nCharles Martel had called together his warriors from every part of\nhis dominions, and, at the head of such an army as had hardly ever\nbeen seen in France, crossed the Loire, probably at Orleans, and,\nbeing joined by the remains of the army of Aquitaine, came in\nsight of the Arabs in the month of October, 732. The Saracens seem\nto have been aware of the terrible enemy they were now to\nencounter, and for the first time these formidable conquerors\nhesitated. The two armies remained in presence during seven days\nbefore either ventured to begin the attack; but at length the\nsignal for battle was given by Abdalrahman, and the immense mass\nof the Saracen army rushed with fury on the Franks. But the heavy\nline of the Northern warriors remained like a rock, and the\nSaracens, during nearly the whole day, expended their strength in\nvain attempts to make any impression upon them. At length, about\nfour o'clock in the afternoon, when Abdalrahman was preparing for\na new and desperate attempt to break the line of the Franks, a\nterrible clamor was heard in the rear of the Saracens. It was King\nEude, who, with his Aquitanians, had attacked their camp, and a\ngreat part of the Saracen army rushed tumultuously from the field\nto protect their plunder. In this moment of confusion the line of\nthe Franks advanced, and, sweeping the field before it, carried\nfearful slaughter amongst the enemy. Abdalrahman made desperate\nefforts to rally his troops, but when he himself, with the bravest\nof his officers, fell beneath the swords of the Christians, all\norder disappeared, and the remains of his army sought refuge in\ntheir immense camp, from which Eude and his Aquitanians had been\nrepulsed. It was now late, and Charles, unwilling to risk an\nattack on the camp in the dark, withdrew his army, and passed the\nnight in the plain, expecting to renew the battle in the morning.\n\nAccordingly, when daylight came, the Franks drew up in order of\nbattle, but no enemy appeared; and when at last they ventured to\napproach the Saracen camp they found it empty. The invaders had\ntaken advantage of the night to begin their retreat, and were\nalready on their way back to Spain, leaving their immense plunder\nbehind to fall into the hands of the Franks.\n\nThis was the celebrated battle of Tours, in which vast numbers of\nthe Saracens were slain, and only fifteen hundred of the Franks.\nCharles received the surname of Martel (the Hammer) in consequence\nof this victory.\n\nThe Saracens, notwithstanding this severe blow, continued to hold\ntheir ground in the south of France; but Pepin, the son of Charles\nMartel, who succeeded to his father's power, and assumed the title\nof king, successively took from them the strong places they held;\nand in 759, by the capture of Narbonne, their capital,\nextinguished the remains of their power in France.\n\nCharlemagne, or Charles the Great, succeeded his father, Pepin, on\nthe throne in the year 768. This prince, though the hero of\nnumerous romantic legends, appears greater in history than in\nfiction. Whether we regard him as a warrior or as a legislator, as\na patron of learning or as the civilizer of a barbarous nation, he\nis entitled to our warmest admiration. Such he is in history; but\nthe romancers represent him as often weak and passionate, the\nvictim of treacherous counsellors, and at the mercy of turbulent\nbarons, on whose prowess he depends for the maintenance of his\nthrone. The historical representation is doubtless the true one,\nfor it is handed down in trustworthy records, and is confirmed by\nthe events of the age. At the height of his power, the French\nempire extended over what we now call France, Germany,\nSwitzerland, Holland, Belgium, and great part of Italy.\n\nIn the year 800 Charlemagne, being in Rome, whither he had gone\nwith a numerous army to protect the Pope, was crowned by the\nPontiff Emperor of the West. On Christmas day Charles entered the\nChurch of St. Peter, as if merely to take his part in the\ncelebration of the mass with the rest of the congregation. When he\napproached the altar and stooped in the act of prayer the Pope\nstepped forward and placed a crown of gold upon his head; and\nimmediately the Roman people shouted, \"Life and victory to Charles\nthe August, crowned by God the great and pacific Emperor of the\nRomans.\" The Pope then prostrated himself before him, and paid him\nreverence, according to the custom established in the times of the\nancient Emperors, and concluded the ceremony by anointing him with\nconsecrated oil.\n\nCharlemagne's wars were chiefly against the pagan and barbarous\npeople, who, under the name of Saxons, inhabited the countries now\ncalled Hanover and Holland. He also led expeditions against the\nSaracens of Spain; but his wars with the Saracens were not carried\non, as the romances assert, in France, but on the soil of Spain.\nHe entered Spain by the Eastern Pyrenees, and made an easy\nconquest of Barcelona and Pampeluna. But Saragossa refused to open\nher gates to him, and Charles ended by negotiating and accepting a\nvast sum of gold as the price of his return over the Pyrenees.\n\nOn his way back, he marched with his whole army through the gorges\nof the mountains by way of the valleys of Engui, Eno, and\nRoncesvalles. The chief of this region had waited upon\nCharlemagne, on his advance, as a faithful vassal of the monarchy;\nbut now, on the return of the Franks, he had called together all\nthe wild mountaineers who acknowledged him as their chief, and\nthey occupied the heights of the mountains under which the army\nhad to pass. The main body of the troops met with no obstruction,\nand received no intimation of danger; but the rear-guard, which\nwas considerably behind, and encumbered with its plunder, was\noverwhelmed by the mountaineers in the pass of Roncesvalles, and\nslain to a man. Some of the bravest of the Prankish chiefs\nperished on this occasion, among whom is mentioned Roland or\nOrlando, governor of the marches or frontier of Brittany. His name\nbecame famous in after times, and the disaster of Roncesvalles and\ndeath of Roland became eventually the most celebrated episode in\nthe vast cycle of romance.\n\nThough after this there were hostile encounters between the armies\nof Charlemagne and the Saracens, they were of small account, and\ngenerally on the soil of Spain. Thus the historical foundation for\nthe stories of the romancers is but scanty, unless we suppose the\nevents of an earlier and of a later age to be incorporated with\nthose of Charlemagne's own time.\n\nThere is, however, a pretended history, which for a long time was\nadmitted as authentic, and attributed to Turpin, Archbishop of\nRheims, a real personage of the time of Charlemagne. Its title is\n\"History of Charles the Great and Orlando.\" It is now\nunhesitatingly considered as a collection of popular traditions,\nproduced by some credulous and unscrupulous monk, who thought to\ngive dignity to his romance by ascribing its authorship to a well-\nknown and eminent individual. It introduces its pretended author,\nBishop Turpin, in this manner:\n\n\"Turpin, Archbishop of Rheims, the friend and secretary of Charles\nthe Great, excellently skilled in sacred and profane literature,\nof a genius equally adapted to prose and verse, the advocate of\nthe poor, beloved of God in his life and conversation, who often\nfought the Saracens, hand to hand, by the Emperor's side, he\nrelates the acts of Charles the Great in one book, and flourished\nunder Charles and his son Louis, to the year of our Lord eight\nhundred and thirty.\"\n\nThe titles of some of Archbishop Turpin's chapters will show the\nnature of his history. They are these: \"Of the Walls of Pampeluna,\nthat fell of themselves.\" \"Of the War of the holy Facundus, where\nthe Spears grew.\" (Certain of the Christians fixed their spears in\nthe evening, erect in the ground, before the castle; and found\nthem, in the morning, covered with bark and branches.) \"How the\nSun stood still for Three Days, and of the Slaughter of Four\nThousand Saracens.\"\n\nTurpin's history has perhaps been the source of the marvellous\nadventures which succeeding poets and romancers have accumulated\naround the names of Charlemagne and his Paladins, or Peers. But\nAriosto and the other Italian poets have drawn from different\nsources, and doubtless often from their own invention, numberless\nother stories which they attribute to the same heroes, not\nhesitating to quote as their authority \"the good Turpin,\" though\nhis history contains no trace of them; and the more outrageous the\nimprobability, or rather the impossibility, of their narrations,\nthe more attentive are they to cite \"the Archbishop,\" generally\nadding their testimonial to his unquestionable veracity.\n\nThe principal Italian poets who have sung the adventures of the\npeers of Charlemagne are Pulci, Boiardo, and Ariosto. The\ncharacters of Orlando, Rinaldo, Astolpho, Gano, and others, are\nthe same in all, though the adventures attributed to them are\ndifferent. Boiardo tells us of the loves of Orlando, Ariosto of\nhis disappointment and consequent madness, Pulci of his death.\n\nOgier, the Dane, is a real personage. History agrees with romance\nin representing him as a powerful lord who, originally from\nDenmark and a Pagan, embraced Christianity, and took service under\nCharlemagne. He revolted from the Emperor, and was driven into\nexile. He afterwards led one of those bands of piratical Northmen\nwhich ravaged France under the reigns of Charlemagne's degenerate\nsuccessors. The description which an ancient chronicler gives of\nCharlemagne, as described by Ogier, is so picturesque, that we are\ntempted to transcribe it. Charlemagne was advancing to the siege\nof Pavia. Didier, King of the Lombards, was in the city with\nOgier, to whom he had given refuge. When they learned that the\nking was approaching they mounted a high tower, whence they could\nsee far and wide over the country. \"They first saw advancing the\nengines of war, fit for the armies of Darius or Julius Caesar.\n'There is Charlemagne,' said Didier. 'No,' said Ogier. The Lombard\nnext saw a vast body of soldiers, who filled all the plain.\n'Certainly Charles advanced with that host,' said the king. 'Not\nyet,' replied Ogier. 'What hope for us,' resumed the king, 'if he\nbrings with him a greater host than that?' At last Charles\nappeared, his head covered with an iron helmet, his hands with\niron gloves, his breast and shoulders with a cuirass of iron, his\nleft hand holding an iron lance, while his right hand grasped his\nsword. Those who went before the monarch, those who marched at his\nside, and those who followed him, all had similar arms. Iron\ncovered the fields and the roads; iron points reflected the rays\nof the sun. This iron, so hard, was borne by a people whose hearts\nwere harder still. The blaze of the weapons flashed terror into\nthe streets of the city.\"\n\nThis picture of Charlemagne in his military aspect would be\nincomplete without a corresponding one of his \"mood of peace.\" One\nof the greatest of modern historians, M. Guizot, has compared the\nglory of Charlemagne to a brilliant meteor, rising suddenly out of\nthe darkness of barbarism to disappear no less suddenly in the\ndarkness of feudalism. But the light of this meteor was not\nextinguished, and reviving civilization owed much that was\npermanently beneficial to the great Emperor of the Franks. His\nruling hand is seen in the legislation of his time, as well as in\nthe administration of the laws. He encouraged learning; he upheld\nthe clergy, who were the only peaceful and intellectual class,\nagainst the encroaching and turbulent barons; he was an\naffectionate father, and watched carefully over the education of\nhis children, both sons and daughters. Of his encouragement of\nlearning we will give some particulars.\n\nHe caused learned men to be brought from Italy and from other\nforeign countries to revive the public schools of France, which\nhad been prostrated by the disorders of preceding times. He\nrecompensed these learned men liberally, and kept some of them\nnear himself, honoring them with his friendship. Of these the most\ncelebrated is Alcuin, an Englishman, whose writings still remain,\nand prove him to have been both a learned and a wise man. With the\nassistance of Alcuin, and others like him, he founded an academy\nor royal school, which should have the direction of the studies of\nall the schools of the kingdom. Charlemagne himself was a member\nof this academy on equal terms with the rest. He attended its\nmeetings, and fulfilled all the duties of an academician. Each\nmember took the name of some famous man of antiquity. Alcuin\ncalled himself Horace, another took the name of Augustin, a third\nof Pindar. Charlemagne, who knew the Psalms by heart, and who had\nan ambition to be, according to his conception, A KING AFTER GOD'S\nOWN HEART, received from his brother academicians the name of\nDavid.\n\nOf the respect entertained for him by foreign nations an\ninteresting proof is afforded in the embassy sent to him by the\nCaliph of the Arabians, the celebrated Haroun al Raschid, a prince\nin character and conduct not unlike to Charlemagne. The\nambassadors brought with them, besides other rich presents, a\nclock, the first that was seen in Europe, which excited universal\nadmiration. It had the form of a twelve-sided edifice with twelve\ndoors. These doors formed niches, in each of which was a little\nstatue representing one of the hours. At the striking of the hour\nthe doors, one for each stroke, was seen to open, and from the\ndoors to issue as many of the little statues, which, following one\nanother, marched gravely round the tower. The motion of the clock\nwas caused by water, and the striking was effected by balls of\nbrass equal to the number of the hours, which fell upon a cymbal\nof the same metal, the number falling being determined by the\ndischarge of the water, which, as it sunk in the vessel, allowed\ntheir escape.\n\nCharlemagne was succeeded by his son Louis, a well-intentioned but\nfeeble prince, in whose reign the fabric reared by Charles began\nrapidly to crumble. Louis was followed successively by two\nCharleses, incapable princes, whose weak and often tyrannical\nconduct is no doubt the source of incidents of that character\nascribed in the romances to Charlemagne.\n\nThe lawless and disobedient deportment of Charles's paladins,\ninstances of which are so frequent in the romantic legends, was\nalso a trait of the declining empire, but not of that of\nCharlemagne.\n\nTHE PEERS, OR PALADINS\n\nThe twelve most illustrious knights of Charlemagne were called\nPeers, for the equality that reigned among them; while the name of\nPaladins, also conferred on them, implies that they were inmates\nof the palace and companions of the king. Their names are always\ngiven alike by the romancers, yet we may enumerate the most\ndistinguished of them as follows: Orlando or Roland (the former\nthe Italian, the latter the French form of the name), favorite\nnephew of Charlemagne; Rinaldo of Montalban, cousin of Orlando;\nNamo, Duke of Bavaria; Salomon, king of Brittany; Turpin, the\nArchbishop; Astolpho, of England; Ogier, the Dane; Malagigi, the\nEnchanter; and Florismart, the friend of Orlando. There were\nothers who are sometimes named as paladins, and the number cannot\nbe strictly limited to twelve. Charlemagne himself must be counted\none, and Ganelon, or Gano, of Mayence, the treacherous enemy of\nall the rest, was rated high on the list by his deluded sovereign,\nwho was completely the victim of his arts.\n\nWe shall introduce more particularly to our readers a few of the\nprincipal peers, leaving the others to make their own introduction\nas they appear in the course of our narrative. We begin with\nOrlando.\n\nORLANDO\n\nMilon, or Milone, a knight of great family, and distantly related\nto Charlemagne, having secretly married Bertha, the Emperor's\nsister, was banished from France, and excommunicated by the Pope.\nAfter a long and miserable wandering on foot as mendicants Milon\nand his wife arrived at Sutri, in Italy, where they took refuge in\na cave, and in that cave Orlando was born. There his mother\ncontinued, deriving a scanty support from the compassion of the\nneighboring peasants; while Milon, in quest of honor and fortune,\nwent into foreign lands. Orlando grew up among the children of the\npeasantry, surpassing them all in strength and manly graces. Among\nhis companions in age, though in station far more elevated, was\nOliver, son of the governor of the town. Between the two boys a\nfeud arose that led to a fight, in which Orlando thrashed his\nrival; but this did not prevent a friendship springing up between\nthe two, which lasted through life.\n\nOrlando was so poor that he was sometimes half naked. As he was a\nfavorite of the boys, one day four of them brought some cloth to\nmake him clothes. Two brought white and two red; and from this\ncircumstance Orlando took his coat-of-arms, or quarterings.\n\nWhen Charlemagne was on his way to Rome to receive the imperial\ncrown he dined in public in Sutri. Orlando and his mother that day\nhad nothing to eat, and Orlando coming suddenly upon the royal\nparty, and seeing abundance of provisions, seized from the\nattendants as much as he could carry off, and made good his\nretreat in spite of their resistance. The Emperor, being told of\nthis incident, was reminded of an intimation he had received in a\ndream, and ordered the boy to be followed. This was done by three\nof the knights, whom Orlando would have encountered with a cudgel\non their entering the grotto, had not his mother restrained him.\nWhen they heard from her who she was they threw themselves at her\nfeet, and promised to obtain her pardon from the Emperor. This was\neasily effected. Orlando was received into favor by the Emperor,\nreturned with him to France, and so distinguished himself that he\nbecame the most powerful support of the throne and of\nChristianity. [Footnote: It is plain that Shakspeare borrowed from\nthis source the similar incident in his \"As you Like it.\" The\nnames of characters in the play, Orlando, Oliver, Rowland indicate\nthe same thing.]\n\nROLAND AND FERRAGUS\n\nOrlando, or Roland, particularly distinguished himself by his\ncombat with Ferragus. Ferragus was a giant, and moreover his skin\nwas of such impenetrable stuff that no sword could make any\nimpression upon it. The giant's mode of fighting was to seize his\nadversary in his arms and carry him off, in spite of all the\nstruggles he could make. Roland's utmost skill only availed to\nkeep him out of the giant's clutches, but all his efforts to wound\nhim with the sword were useless. After long fighting Ferragus was\nso weary that he proposed a truce, and when it was agreed upon he\nlay down and immediately fell asleep. He slept in perfect\nsecurity, for it was against all the laws of chivalry to take\nadvantage of an adversary under such circumstances. But Ferragus\nlay so uncomfortably for the want of a pillow that Orlando took\npity upon him, and brought a smooth stone and placed it under his\nhead. When the giant woke up, after a refreshing nap, and\nperceived what Orlando had done, he seemed quite grateful, became\nsociable, and talked freely in the usual boastful style of such\ncharacters. Among other things he told Orlando that he need not\nattempt to kill him with a sword, for that every part of his body\nwas invulnerable, except this; and as he spoke, he put his hand to\nthe vital part, just in the middle of his breast. Aided by this\ninformation Orlando succeeded, when the fight was renewed, in\npiercing the giant in the very spot he had pointed out, and giving\nhim a death-wound. Great was the rejoicing in the Christian camp,\nand many the praises showered upon the victorious paladin by the\nEmperor and all his host.\n\nOn another occasion Orlando encountered a puissant Saracen\nwarrior, and took from him, as the prize of victory, the sword\nDurindana. This famous weapon had once belonged to the illustrious\nprince Hector of Troy. It was of the finest workmanship, and of\nsuch strength and temper that no armor in the world could stand\nagainst it.\n\nA ROLAND FOR AN OLIVER\n\nGuerin de Montglave held the lordship of Vienne, subject to\nCharlemagne. He had quarrelled with his sovereign, and Charles\nlaid siege to his city, having ravaged the neighboring country.\nGuerin was an aged warrior, but relied for his defence upon his\nfour sons and two grandsons, who were among the bravest knights of\nthe age. After the siege had continued two months Charlemagne\nreceived tidings that Marsilius, king of Spain, had invaded\nFrance, and, finding himself unopposed, was advancing rapidly in\nthe Southern provinces. At this intelligence Charles listened to\nthe counsel of his peers, and consented to put the quarrel with\nGuerin to the decision of Heaven, by single combat between two\nknights, one of each party, selected by lot. The proposal was\nacceptable to Guerin and his sons. The names of the four, together\nwith Guerin's own, who would not be excused, and of the two\ngrandsons, who claimed their lot, being put into a helmet,\nOliver's was drawn forth, and to him, the youngest of the\ngrandsons, was assigned the honor and the peril of the combat. He\naccepted the award with delight, exulting in being thought worthy\nto maintain the cause of his family. On Charlemagne's side Roland\nwas the designated champion, and neither he nor Oliver knew who\nhis antagonist was to be.\n\nThey met on an island in the Rhone, and the warriors of both camps\nwere ranged on either shore, spectators of the battle. At the\nfirst encounter both lances were shivered, but both riders kept\ntheir seats, immovable. They dismounted, and drew their swords.\nThen ensued a combat which seemed so equal, that the spectators\ncould not form an opinion as to the probable issue. Two hours and\nmore the knights continued to strike and parry, to thrust and\nward, neither showing any sign of weariness, nor ever being taken\nat unawares. At length Orlando struck furiously upon Oliver's\nshield, burying Durindana in its edge so deeply that he could not\ndraw it back, and Oliver, almost at the same moment, thrust so\nvigorously upon Orlando's breastplate that his sword snapped off\nat the handle. Thus were the two warriors left weaponless.\nScarcely pausing a moment, they rushed upon one another, each\nstriving to throw his adversary to the ground, and failing in\nthat, each snatched at the other's helmet to tear it away. Both\nsucceeded, and at the same moment they stood bare-headed face to\nface, and Roland recognized Oliver, and Oliver Roland. For a\nmoment they stood still; and the next, with open arms, rushed into\none another's embrace. \"I am conquered,\" said Orlando. \"I yield\nme.\" said Oliver.\n\nThe people on the shore knew not what to make of all this.\nPresently they saw the two late antagonists standing hand in hand,\nand it was evident the battle was at an end. The knights crowded\nround them, and with one voice hailed them as equals in glory. If\nthere were any who felt disposed to murmur that the battle was\nleft undecided they were silenced by the voice of Ogier the Dane,\nwho proclaimed aloud that all had been done that honor required,\nand declared that he would maintain that award against all\ngainsayers.\n\nThe quarrel with Guerin and his sons being left undecided, a truce\nwas made for four days, and in that time, by the efforts of Duke\nNamo on the one side, and of Oliver on the other, a reconciliation\nwas effected. Charlemagne, accompanied by Guerin and his valiant\nfamily, marched to meet Marsilius, who hastened to retreat across\nthe frontier.\n\nRINALDO\n\nRinaldo was one of the four sons of Aymon, who married Aya, the\nsister of Charlemagne. Thus Rinaldo was nephew to Charlemagne and\ncousin of Orlando.\n\nWhen Rinaldo had grown old enough to assume arms Orlando had won\nfor himself an illustrious name by his exploits against the\nSaracens, whom Charlemagne and his brave knights had driven out of\nFrance. Orlando's fame excited a noble emulation in Rinaldo. Eager\nto go in pursuit of glory, he wandered in the country near Paris,\nand one day saw at the foot of a tree a superb horse, fully\nequipped and loaded with a complete suit of armor. Rinaldo clothed\nhimself in the armor and mounted the horse, but took not the\nsword. On the day when, with his brothers, he had received the\nhonor of knighthood from the Emperor he had sworn never to bind a\nsword to his side till he had wrested one from some famous knight.\n\nRinaldo took his way to the forest of Arden, celebrated for so\nmany adventures. Hardly had he entered it when he met an old man,\nbending under the weight of years, and learned from him that the\nforest was infested with a wild horse, untamable, that broke and\noverturned everything that opposed his career. To attack him, he\nsaid, or even to meet him, was certain death. Rinaldo, far from\nbeing alarmed, showed the most eager desire to combat the animal.\nThis was the horse Bayard, afterward so famous. He had formerly\nbelonged to Amadis of Gaul. After the death of that hero he had\nbeen held under enchantment by the power of a magician, who\npredicted that, when the time came to break the spell, he should\nbe subdued by a knight of the lineage of Amadis, and not less\nbrave than he.\n\nTo win this wonderful horse it was necessary to conquer him by\nforce or skill; for from the moment when he should be thrown down\nhe would become docile and manageable. His habitual resort was a\ncave on the borders of the forest; but woe be to any one who\nshould approach him, unless gifted with strength and courage more\nthan mortal. Having told this, the old man departed. He was not,\nin fact, an old man, but Malagigi, the enchanter, cousin of\nRinaldo, who, to favor the enterprises of the young knight, had\nprocured for him the horse and armor which he so opportunely\nfound, and now put him in the way to acquire a horse unequalled in\nthe world.\n\nRinaldo plunged into the forest, and spent many days in seeking\nBayard, but found no traces of him. One day he encountered a\nSaracen knight, with whom he made acquaintance, as often happened\nto knights, by first meeting him in combat. This knight, whose\nname was Isolier, was also in quest of Bayard. Rinaldo succeeded\nin the encounter, and so severe was the shock that Isolier was a\nlong time insensible. When he revived, and was about to resume the\ncontest, a peasant who passed by (it was Malagigi) interrupted\nthem with the news that the terrible horse was near at hand,\nadvising them to unite their powers to subdue him, for it would\nrequire all their ability.\n\nRinaldo and Isolier, now become friends, proceeded together to the\nattack of the horse. They found Bayard, and stood a long time,\nconcealed by the wood, admiring his strength and beauty.\n\nA bright bay in color (whence he was called Bayard), with a silver\nstar in his forehead, and his hind feet white, his body slender,\nhis head delicate, his ample chest filled out with swelling\nmuscles, his shoulders broad and full, his legs straight and\nsinewy, his thick mane falling over his arching neck,--he came\nrushing through the forest, regardless of rocks, bushes, or trees,\nrending everything that opposed his way, and neighing defiance.\n\nHe first descried Isolier, and rushed upon him. The knight\nreceived him with lance in rest, but the fierce animal broke the\nspear, and his course was not delayed by it for an instant. The\nSpaniard adroitly stepped aside, and gave way to the rushing\ntempest. Bayard checked his career, and turned again upon the\nknight, who had already drawn his sword. He drew his sword, for he\nhad no hope of taming the horse; that, he was satisfied, was\nimpossible.\n\nBayard rushed upon him; fiercely rearing, now on this side, now on\nthat. The knight struck him with his sword, where the white star\nadorned his forehead, but struck in vain, and felt ashamed,\nthinking that he had struck feebly, for he did not know that the\nskin of that horse was so tough that the keenest sword could make\nno impression upon it.\n\nWhistling fell the sword once more, and struck with greater force,\nand the fierce horse felt it, and drooped his head under the blow,\nbut the next moment turned upon his foe with such a buffet that\nthe Pagan fell stunned and lifeless to the earth.\n\nRinaldo, who saw Isolier fall, and thought that his life was reft,\ndarted towards the horse, and, with his fist gave him such a blow\non the jaws that the blood tinged his mouth with vermilion.\nQuicker than an arrow leaves the bow the horse turned upon him,\nand tried to seize his arm with his teeth.\n\nThe knight stepped back, and then, repeating his blow, struck him\non the forehead. Bayard turned, and kicked with both his feet with\na force that would have shattered a mountain. Rinaldo was on his\nguard, and evaded his attacks, whether made with head or heels. He\nkept at his side avoiding both; but, making a false step, he at\nlast received a terrible blow from the horse's foot, and at the\nshock almost fainted away. A second such blow would have killed\nhim, but the horse kicked at random, and a second blow did not\nreach Rinaldo, who in a moment recovered himself. Thus the contest\ncontinued until by chance Bayard's foot got caught between the\nbranches of an oak. Rinaldo seized it and putting forth all his\nstrength and address, threw him on the ground.\n\nNo sooner had Bayard touched the ground than all his rage\nsubsided. No longer an object of terror, he became gentle and\nquiet, yet with dignity in his mildness.\n\nThe paladin patted his neck, stroked his breast, and smoothed his\nmane, while the animal neighed and showed delight to be caressed\nby his master. Rinaldo, seeing him now completely subdued, took\nthe saddle and trappings from the other horse, and adorned Bayard\nwith the spoils.\n\nRinaldo became one of the most illustrious knights of\nCharlemagne's court,--indeed, the most illustrious, if we except\nOrlando. Yet he was not always so obedient to the Emperor's\ncommands as he should have been, and every fault he committed was\nsure to be aggravated by the malice of Gan, Duke of Maganza, the\ntreacherous enemy of Rinaldo and all his house.\n\nAt one time Rinaldo had incurred the severe displeasure of\nCharlemagne, and been banished from court. Seeing no chance of\nbeing ever restored to favor, he went to Spain, and entered into\nthe service of the Saracen king, Ivo. His brothers, Alardo,\nRicardo, and Ricciardetto, accompanied him, and all four served\nthe king so faithfully that they rose to high favor with him. The\nking gave them land in the mountains on the frontiers of France\nand Spain, and subjected all the country round to Rinaldo's\nauthority. There was plenty of marble in the mountains, the king\nfurnished workmen, and they built a castle for Rinaldo, surrounded\nwith high walls, so as to be almost impregnable. Built of white\nstone, and placed on the brow of a marble promontory, the castle\nshone like a star, and Rinaldo gave it the name of Montalban. Here\nhe assembled his friends, many of whom were banished men like\nhimself, and the country people furnished them with provisions in\nreturn for the protection the castle afforded. Yet some of\nRinaldo's men were lawless, and sometimes the supplies were not\nfurnished in sufficient abundance, so that Rinaldo and his\ngarrison got a bad name for taking by force what they could not\nobtain by gift; and we sometimes find Montalban spoken of as a\nnest of freebooters, and its defenders called a beggarly garrison.\n\nCharlemagne's displeasure did not last long, and, at the time our\nhistory commences, Rinaldo and his brothers were completely\nrestored to the favor of the Emperor, and none of his cavaliers\nserved him with greater zeal and fidelity than they, throughout\nall his wars with the Saracens and Pagans.\n\nTHE TOURNAMENT\n\nIt was the month of May, and the feast of Pentecost. Charlemagne\nhad ordered magnificent festivities, and summoned to them, besides\nhis paladins and vassals of the crown, all strangers, Christian or\nSaracen, then sojourning at Paris. Among the guests were King\nGrandonio, from Spain; and Ferrau, the Saracen, with eyes like an\neagle; Orlando and Rinaldo, the Emperor's nephews; Duke Namo;\nAstolpho, of England, the handsomest man living; Malagigi, the\nEnchanter; and Gano, of Maganza, that wily traitor, who had the\nart to make the Emperor think he loved him, while he plotted\nagainst him.\n\nHigh sat Charlemagne at the head of his vassals and his paladins,\nrejoicing in the thought of their number and their might, while\nall were sitting and hearing music, and feasting, when suddenly\nthere came into the hall four enormous giants, having between them\na lady of incomparable beauty, attended by a single knight. There\nwere many ladies present who had seemed beautiful till she made\nher appearance, but after that they all seemed nothing. Every\nChristian knight turned his eyes to her, and every Pagan crowded\nround her, while she, with a sweetness that might have touched a\nheart of stone, thus addressed the Emperor:\n\n\"High-minded lord, the renown of your worthiness, and of the valor\nof these your knights, which echoes from sea to sea, encourages me\nto hope that two pilgrims, who have come from the ends of the\nworld to behold you, will not have encountered their fatigue in\nvain. And, before I show the motive which has brought us hither,\nlearn that this knight is my brother Uberto, and that I am his\nsister Angelica. Fame has told us of the jousting this day\nappointed, and so the prince my brother has come to prove his\nvalor, and to say that, if any of the knights here assembled\nchoose to meet him in the joust, he will encounter them, one by\none, at the stair of Merlin, by the Fountain of the Pine. And his\nconditions are these: No knight who chances to be thrown shall be\nallowed to renew the combat, but shall remain prisoner to my\nbrother; but if my brother be overthrown he shall depart out of\nthe country, leaving me as the prize of the conqueror.\"\n\nNow it must be stated that this Angelica and her brother, who\ncalled himself Uberto, but whose real name was Argalia, were the\nchildren of Galafron, king of Cathay, who had sent them to be the\ndestruction of the Christian host; for Argalia was armed with an\nenchanted lance, which unfailingly overthrew everything it\ntouched, and he was mounted on a horse, a creature of magic, whose\nswiftness outstripped the wind. Angelica possessed also a ring\nwhich was a defence against all enchantments, and when put into\nthe mouth rendered the bearer invisible. Thus Argalia was expected\nto subdue and take prisoners whatever knights should dare to\nencounter him; and the charms of Angelica were relied on to entice\nthe paladins to make the fatal venture, while her ring would\nafford her easy means of escape.\n\nWhen Angelica ceased sneaking she knelt before the king and\nawaited his answer, and everybody gazed on her with admiration.\nOrlando especially felt irresistibly drawn towards her, so that he\ntrembled and changed countenance. Every knight in the hall was\ninfected with the same feeling, not excepting old white-headed\nDuke Namo and Charlemagne himself.\n\nAll stood for a while in silence, lost in the delight of looking\nat her. The fiery youth Ferrau could hardly restrain himself from\nseizing her from the giants and carrying her away; Rinaldo turned\nas red as fire, while Malagigi, who had discovered by his art that\nthe stranger was not speaking truth, muttered softly, as he looked\nat her, \"Exquisite false creature! I will play thee such a trick\nfor this, as will leave thee no cause to boast of thy visit.\"\n\nCharlemagne, to detain her as long as possible before him, delayed\nhis assent till he had asked her a number of questions, all which\nshe answered discreetly, and then the challenge was accepted.\n\nAs soon as she was gone Malagigi consulted his book, and found out\nthe whole plot of the vile, infidel king, Galafron, as we have\nexplained it, so he determined to seek the damsel and frustrate\nher designs. He hastened to the appointed spot, and there found\nthe prince and his sister in a beautiful pavilion, where they lay\nasleep, while the four giants kept watch. Malagigi took his book\nand cast a spell out of it, and immediately the four giants fell\ninto a deep sleep. Drawing his sword (for he was a belted knight),\nhe softly approached the young lady, intending to despatch her at\nonce; but, seeing her look so lovely, he paused for a moment,\nthinking there was no need of hurry, as he believed his spell was\nupon her, and she could not wake. But the ring which she wore\nsecured her from the effect of the spell, and some slight noise,\nor whatever else it was, caused her at that moment to awake. She\nuttered a great cry, and flew to her brother, and waked him. By\nthe help of her knowledge of enchantment, they took and bound fast\nthe magician, and, seizing his book, turned his arts against\nhimself. Then they summoned a crowd of demons, and bade them seize\ntheir prisoner and bear him to King Galafron, at his great city of\nAlbracca, which they did, and, on his arrival, he was locked up in\na rock under the sea.\n\nWhile these things were going on all was uproar at Paris, since\nOrlando insisted upon being the first to try the adventure at the\nstair of Merlin. This was resented by the other pretenders to\nAngelica, and all contested his right to the precedence. The\ntumult was stilled by the usual expedient of drawing lots, and the\nfirst prize was drawn by Astolpho. Ferrau, the Saracen, had the\nsecond, and Grandonio the third. Next came Berlinghieri, and Otho;\nthen Charles himself, and, as his ill-fortune would have it, after\nthirty more, the indignant Orlando.\n\nAstolpho, who drew the first lot, was handsome, brave, and rich.\nBut, whether from heedlessness or want of skill, he was an unlucky\njouster, and very apt to be thrown, an accident which he bore with\nperfect good-humor, always ready to mount again and try to mend\nhis fortune, generally with no better success.\n\nAstolpho went forth upon his adventure with great gayety of dress\nand manner, encountered Argalia, and was immediately tilted out of\nthe saddle. He railed at fortune, to whom he laid all the fault;\nbut his painful feelings were somewhat relieved by the kindness of\nAngelica, who, touched by his youth and good looks, granted him\nthe liberty of the pavilion, and caused him to be treated with all\nkindness and respect.\n\nThe violent Ferrau had the next chance in the encounter, and was\nthrown no less speedily than Astolpho; but he did not so easily\nput up with his mischance. Crying out, \"What are the emperor's\nengagements to me?\" he rushed with his sword against Argalia, who,\nbeing forced to defend himself, dismounted and drew his sword, but\ngot so much the worse of the fight that he made a signal of\nsurrender, and, after some words, listened to a proposal of\nmarriage from Ferrau to his sister. The beauty, however, feeling\nno inclination to match with such a rough and savage-looking\nperson, was so dismayed at the offer, that, hastily bidding her\nbrother to meet her in the forest of Arden, she vanished from the\nsight of both by means of the enchanted ring. Argalia, seeing\nthis, took to his horse of swiftness, and dashed away in the same\ndirection. Ferrau pursued him, and Astolpho, thus left to himself,\ntook possession of the enchanted lance in place of his own, which\nwas broken, not knowing the treasure he possessed in it, and\nreturned to the tournament. Charlemagne, finding the lady and her\nbrother gone, ordered the jousting to proceed as at first\nintended, in which Astolpho, by aid of the enchanted lance,\nunhorsed all comers against him, equally to their astonishment and\nhis own.\n\nThe paladin Rinaldo, on learning the issue of the combat of Ferrau\nand the stranger, galloped after the fair fugitive in an agony of\nlove and impatience. Orlando, perceiving his disappearance, pushed\nforth in like manner; and, at length, all three are in the forest\nof Arden, hunting about for her who is invisible.\n\nNow in this forest there were two fountains, the one constructed\nby the sage Merlin, who designed it for Tristram and the fair\nIsoude; [Footnote: See their story in \"King Arthur and His\nKnights.\"] for such was the virtue of this fountain, that a\ndraught of its waters produced on oblivion of the love which the\ndrinker might feel, and even produced aversion for the object\nformerly beloved. The other fountain was endowed with exactly\nopposite qualities, and a draught of it inspired love for the\nfirst living object that was seen after tasting it. Rinaldo\nhappened to come to the first mentioned fountain, and, being\nflushed with heat, dismounted, and quenched in one draught both\nhis thirst and his passion. So far from loving Angelica as before\nhe hated her from the bottom of his heart, became disgusted with\nthe search he was upon, and, feeling fatigued with his ride,\nfinding a sheltered and flowery nook, laid himself down and fell\nasleep.\n\nShortly after came Angelica, but, approaching in a different\ndirection, she espied the other fountain, and there quenched her\nthirst. Then resuming her way, she came upon the sleeping Rinaldo.\nLove instantly seized her, and she stood rooted to the spot.\n\nThe meadow round was all full of lilies of the valley and wild\nroses. Angelica, not knowing what to do, at length plucked a\nhandful of these, and dropped them, one by one, on the face of the\nsleeper. He woke up, and, seeing who it was, received her\nsalutations with averted countenance, remounted his horse, and\ngalloped away. In vain the beautiful creature followed and called\nafter him, in vain asked him what she had done to be so despised.\nRinaldo disappeared, leaving her in despair, and she returned in\ntears to the spot where she had found him sleeping. There, in her\nturn, she herself lay down, pressing the spot of earth on which he\nhad lain, and, out of fatigue and sorrow, fell asleep.\n\nAs Angelica thus lay, fortune conducted Orlando to the same place.\nThe attitude in which she was sleeping was so lovely that it is\nnot to be conceived, much less expressed. Orlando stood gazing\nlike a man who had been transported to another sphere. \"Am I on\nearth,\" he exclaimed, \"or am I in Paradise? Surely it is I that\nsleep, and this is my dream.\"\n\nBut his dream was proved to be none in a manner which he little\ndesired. Ferrau, who had slain Argalia, came up, raging with\njealousy, and a combat ensued which awoke the sleeper.\n\nTerrified at what she beheld, she rushed to her palfrey, and,\nwhile the fighters were occupied with one another, fled away\nthrough the forest. The champions continued their fight till they\nwere interrupted by a messenger, who brought word to Ferrau that\nking Marsilius, his sovereign, was in pressing need of his\nassistance, and conjured him to return to Spain. Ferrau, upon\nthis, proposed to suspend the combat, to which Orlando, eager to\npursue Angelica, agreed. Ferrau, on the other hand, departed with\nthe messenger to Spain.\n\nOrlando's quest for the fair fugitive was all in vain. Aided by\nthe powers of magic, she made a speedy return to her own country.\n\nBut the thought of Rinaldo could not be banished from her mind,\nand she determined to set Malagigi at liberty, and to employ him\nto win Rinaldo, if possible, to make her a return of affection.\nShe accordingly freed him from his dungeon, unlocking his fetters\nwith her own hands, and restored him his book, promising him ample\nhonors and rewards on condition of his bringing Rinaldo to her\nfeet.\n\nMalagigi accordingly, with the aid of his book, called up a demon,\nmounted him, and departed. Arrived at his destination, he\ninveigled Rinaldo into an enchanted bark, which conveyed him,\nwithout any visible pilot, to an island where stood an edifice\ncalled Joyous Castle. The whole island was a garden. On the\nwestern side, close to the sea, was the palace, built of marble,\nso clear and polished that it reflected the landscape about it.\nRinaldo leapt ashore, and soon met a lady, who invited him to\nenter. The house was as beautiful within as without, full of rooms\nadorned with azure and gold, and with noble paintings. The lady\nled the knight into an apartment painted with stories, and opening\nto the garden, through pillars of crystal, with golden capitals.\nHere he found a bevy of ladies, three of whom were singing in\nconcert, while another played on an instrument of exquisite\naccord, and the rest danced round about them. When the ladies\nbeheld him coming they turned the dance into a circuit round him,\nand then one of them, in the sweetest manner, said, \"Sir knight,\nthe tables are set, and the hour for the banquet is come;\" and,\nwith these words, still dancing, they drew him across the lawn in\nfront of the apartment, to a table that was spread with cloth of\ngold and fine linen, under a bower of damask roses by the side of\na fountain.\n\nFour ladies were already seated there, who rose, and placed\nRinaldo at their head, in a chair set with pearls. And truly\nindeed was he astonished. A repast ensued, consisting of viands\nthe most delicate, and wines as fragrant as they were fine, drunk\nout of jewelled cups; and, when it drew towards its conclusion,\nharps and lutes were heard in the distance, and one of the ladies\nsaid in the knight's ear: \"This house and all that you see in it\nare yours; for you alone was it built, and the builder is a queen.\nHappy indeed must you think yourself, for she loves you, and she\nis the greatest beauty in the world! Her name is Angelica.\"\n\nThe moment Rinaldo heard the name he so detested he started up,\nwith a changed countenance, and, in spite of all that the lady\ncould say, broke off across the garden, and never ceased hastening\ntill he reached the place where he landed. The bark was still on\nthe shore. He sprang into it, and pushed off, though he saw nobody\nin it but himself. It was in vain for him to try to control its\nmovements, for it dashed on as if in fury, till it reached a\ndistant shore covered with a gloomy forest. Here Rinaldo,\nsurrounded by enchantments of a very different sort from those\nwhich he had lately resisted, was entrapped into a pit.\n\nThe pit belonged to a castle called Altaripa, which was hung with\nhuman heads, and painted red with blood. As the paladin was\nviewing the scene with amazement a hideous old woman made her\nappearance at the edge of the pit, and told him that he was\ndestined to be thrown to a monster, who was only kept from\ndevastating the whole country by being supplied with living human\nflesh. Rinaldo said, \"Be it so; let me but remain armed as I am,\nand I fear nothing.\" The old woman laughed in derision. Rinaldo\nremained in the pit all night, and the next morning was taken to\nthe place where the monster had his den. It was a court surrounded\nby a high wall. Rinaldo was shut in with the beast, and a terrible\ncombat ensued. Rinaldo was unable to make any impression on the\nscales of the monster, while he, on the contrary, with his\ndreadful claws, tore away plate and mail from the paladin. Rinaldo\nbegan to think his last hour was come, and cast his eyes around\nand above to see if there was any means of escape. He perceived a\nbeam projecting from the wall at the height of some ten feet, and,\ntaking a leap almost miraculous, he succeeded in reaching it, and\nin flinging himself up across it. Here he sat for hours, the\nhideous brute continually trying to reach him. All at once he\nheard the sound of something coming through the air like a bird,\nand suddenly Angelica herself alighted on the end of the beam. She\nheld something in her hand towards him, and spoke to him in a\nloving voice. But the moment Rinaldo saw her he commanded her to\ngo away, refused all her offers of assistance, and at length\ndeclared that, if she did not leave him, he would cast himself\ndown to the monster, and meet his fate.\n\nAngelica, saying she would lose her life rather than displease\nhim, departed; but first she threw to the monster a cake of wax\nshe had prepared, and spread around him a rope knotted with\nnooses. The beast took the bait, and, finding his teeth glued\ntogether by the wax, vented his fury in bounds and leaps, and,\nsoon getting entangled in the nooses, drew them tight by his\nstruggles, so that he could scarcely move a limb.\n\nRinaldo, watching his chance, leapt down upon his back, seized him\nround the neck, and throttled him, not relaxing his gripe till the\nbeast fell dead.\n\nAnother difficulty remained to be overcome. The walls were of\nimmense height, and the only opening in them was a grated window\nof such strength that he could not break the bars. In his distress\nRinaldo found a file, which Angelica had left on the ground, and,\nwith the help of this, effected his deliverance.\n\nWhat further adventures he met with will be told in another\nchapter.\n\nTHE SIEGE OF ALBRACCA\n\nAt the very time when Charlemagne was holding his plenary court\nand his great tournament his kingdom was invaded by a mighty\nmonarch, who was moreover so valiant and strong in battle that no\none could stand against him. He was named Gradasso, and his\nkingdom was called Sericane. Now, as it often happens to the\ngreatest and the richest to long for what they cannot have, and\nthus to lose what they already possess, this king could not rest\ncontent without Durindana, the sword of Orlando, and Bayard, the\nhorse of Rinaldo. To obtain these he determined to war upon\nFrance, and for this purpose put in array a mighty army.\n\nHe took his way through Spain, and, after defeating Marsilius, the\nking of that country, in several battles, was rapidly advancing on\nFrance. Charlemagne, though Marsilius was a Saracen, and had been\nhis enemy, yet felt it needful to succor him in this extremity\nfrom a consideration of common danger, and, with the consent of\nhis peers, despatched Rinaldo with a strong body of soldiers\nagainst Gradasso.\n\nThere was much fighting, with doubtful results, and Gradasso was\nsteadily advancing into France. But, impatient to achieve his\nobjects, he challenged Rinaldo to single combat, to be fought on\nfoot, and upon these conditions: If Rinaldo conquered, Gradasso\nagreed to give up all his prisoners and return to his own country;\nbut if Gradasso won the day, he was to have Bayard.\n\nThe challenge was accepted, and would have been fought had it not\nbeen for the arts of Malagigi, who just then returned from\nAngelica's kingdom with set purpose to win Rinaldo to look with\nfavor upon the fair princess who was dying for love of him.\nMalagigi drew Rinaldo away from the army by putting on the\nsemblance of Gradasso, and, after a short contest, pretending to\nfly before him, by which means Rinaldo was induced to follow him\ninto a boat, in which he was borne away, and entangled in various\nadventures, as we have already related.\n\nThe army, left under the command of Ricciardetto, Rinaldo's\nbrother, was soon joined by Charlemagne and all his peerage, but\nexperienced a disastrous rout, and the Emperor and many of his\npaladins were taken prisoners. Gradasso, however, did not abuse\nhis victory; he took Charles by the hand, seated him by his side,\nand told him he warred only for honor. He renounced all conquests,\non condition that the Emperor should deliver to him Bayard and\nDurindana, both of them the property of his vassals, the former of\nwhich, as he maintained, was already forfeited to him by Rinaldo's\nfailure to meet him as agreed. To these terms Charlemagne readily\nacceded.\n\nBayard, after the departure of his master, had been taken in\ncharge by Ricciardetto, and sent back to Paris, where Astolpho was\nin command, in the absence of Charlemagne. Astolpho received with\ngreat indignation the message despatched for Bayard, and replied\nby a herald that \"he would not surrender the horse of his kinsman\nRinaldo without a contest. If Gradasso wanted the steed he might\ncome and take him, and that he, Astolpho, was ready to meet him in\nthe field.\"\n\nGradasso was only amused at this answer, for Astolpho's fame as a\nsuccessful warrior was not high, and Gradasso willingly renewed\nwith him the bargain which he had made with Rinaldo. On these\nconditions the battle was fought. The enchanted lance, in the\nhands of Astolpho, performed a new wonder; and Gradasso, the\nterrible Gradasso, was unhorsed.\n\nHe kept his word, set free his prisoners, and put his army on the\nmarch to return to his own country, renewing his oath, however,\nnot to rest till he had taken from Rinaldo his horse, and from\nOrlando his sword, or lost his life in the attempt.\n\nCharlemagne, full of gratitude to Astolpho, would have kept him\nnear his person and loaded him with honors, but Astolpho preferred\nto seek Rinaldo, with the view of restoring to him his horse, and\ndeparted from Paris with that design.\n\nOur story now returns to Orlando, whom we left fascinated with\nthe sight of the sleeping beauty, who, however, escaped him while\nengaged in the combat with Ferrau. Having long sought her in vain\nthrough the recesses of the wood, he resolved to follow her to her\nfather's court. Leaving, therefore, the camp of Charlemagne, he\ntravelled long in the direction of the East, making inquiry\neverywhere, if, perchance, he might get tidings of the fugitive.\nAfter many adventures, he arrived one day at a place where many\nroads crossed, and meeting there a courier, he asked him for news.\nThe courier replied that he had been despatched by Angelica to\nsolicit the aid of Sacripant, king of Circassia, in favor of her\nfather Galafron, who was besieged in his city, Albracca, by\nAgrican, king of Tartary. This Agrican had been an unsuccessful\nsuitor to the damsel, whom he now pursued with arms. Orlando thus\nlearned that he was within a day's journey of Albracca; and,\nfeeling now secure of Angelica, he proceeded with all speed to her\ncity.\n\nThus journeying he arrived at a bridge, under which flowed a\nfoaming river. Here a damsel met him with a goblet, and informed\nhim that it was the usage of this bridge to present the traveller\nwith a cup. Orlando accepted the offered cup and drank its\ncontents. He had no sooner done so than his brain reeled, and he\nbecame unconscious of the object of his journey, and of everything\nelse. Under the influence of this fascination he followed the\ndamsel into a magnificent and marvellous palace. Here he found\nhimself in company with many knights, unknown to him and to each\nother, though if it had not been for the Cup of Oblivion of which\nthey all had partaken they would have found themselves brothers in\narms.\n\nAstolpho, proceeding on his way to seek Rinaldo, splendidly\ndressed and equipped, as was his wont, arrived in Circassia, and\nfound there a great army encamped under the command of Sacripant,\nthe king of that country, who was leading it to the defence of\nGalafron, the father of Angelica. Sacripant, much struck by the\nappearance of Astolpho and his horse, accosted him courteously,\nand tried to enlist him in his service; but Astolpho, proud of his\nlate victories, scornfully declined his offers, and pursued his\nway. King Sacripant was too much attracted by his appearance to\npart with him so easily, and having laid aside his kingly\nornaments, set out in pursuit of him.\n\nAstolpho next day encountered on his way a stranger knight, named\nSir Florismart, Lord of the Sylvan Tower, one of the bravest and\nbest of knights, having as his guide a damsel, young, fair, and\nvirtuous, to whom he was tenderly attached, whose name was\nFlordelis. Astolpho, as he approached, defied the knight, bidding\nhim yield the lady, or prepare to maintain his right by arms.\nFlorismart accepted the contest, and the knights encountered.\nFlorismart was unhorsed and his steed fell dead, while Bayard\nsustained no injury by the shock.\n\nFlorismart was so overwhelmed with despair at his own disgrace and\nthe sight of the damsel's distress, that he drew his sword, and\nwas about to plunge it into his own bosom. But Astolpho held his\nhand, told him that he contended only for glory, and was contented\nto leave him the lady.\n\nWhile Florismart and Flordelis were vowing eternal gratitude King\nSacripant arrived, and coveting the damsel of the one champion as\nmuch as the horse and arms of the other, defied them to the joust.\nAstolpho met the challenger, whom he instantly overthrew, and\npresented his courser to Florismart, leaving the king to return to\nhis army on foot.\n\nThe friends pursued their route, and ere long Flordelis\ndiscovered, by signs which were known to her, that they were\napproaching the waters of Oblivion, and advised them to turn back,\nor to change their course. This the knights would not hear of,\nand, continuing their march, they soon arrived at the bridge where\nOrlando had been taken prisoner.\n\nThe damsel of the bridge appeared as before with the enchanted\ncup, but Astolpho, forewarned, rejected it with scorn. She dashed\nit to the ground, and a fire blazed up which rendered the bridge\nunapproachable. At the same moment the two knights were assailed\nby sundry warriors, known and unknown, who, having no recollection\nof anything, joined blindly in defence of their prison-house.\nAmong these was Orlando, at sight of whom Astolpho, with all his\nconfidence not daring to encounter him, turned and fled, owing his\nescape to the strength and fleetness of Bayard.\n\nFlorismart, meanwhile, overlaid by fearful odds, was compelled to\nyield to necessity, and comply with the usage of the fairy. He\ndrank of the cup and remained prisoner with the rest. Flordelis,\ndeprived of her two friends, retired from the scene, and devoted\nherself to untiring efforts to effect her lover's deliverance.\nAstolpho pursued his way to Albracca, which Agrican was about to\nbesiege. He was kindly welcomed by Angelica, and enrolled among\nher defenders. Impatient to distinguish himself, he one night\nsallied forth alone, arrived in Agrican's camp, and unhorsed his\nwarriors right and left by means of the enchanted lance. But he\nwas soon surrounded and overmatched, and made prisoner to Agrican.\n\nRelief was, however, at hand; for as the citizens and soldiers\nwere one day leaning over their walls they descried a cloud of\ndust, from which horsemen were seen to prick forth, as it rolled\non towards the camp of the besiegers. This turned out to be the\narmy of Sacripant, which immediately attacked that of Agrican,\nwith the view of cutting a passage through his camp to the\nbesieged city. But Agrican, mounted upon Bayard, taken from\nAstolpho, but not armed with the lance of gold, the virtues of\nwhich were unknown to him, performed wonders, and rallied his\nscattered troops, which had given way to the sudden and unexpected\nassault. Sacripant, on the other hand, encouraged his men by the\nmost desperate acts of valor, having as an additional incentive to\nhis courage the sight of Angelica, who showed herself upon the\ncity walls.\n\nThere she witnessed a single combat between the two leaders,\nAgrican and Sacripant. In this, at length, her defender appeared\nto be overmatched, when the Circassians broke the ring, and\nseparated the combatants, who were borne asunder in the rush.\nSacripant, severely wounded, profited by the confusion, and\nescaped into Albracca, where he was kindly received and carefully\ntended by Angelica.\n\nThe battle continuing, the Circassians were at last put to flight,\nand, being intercepted between the enemy's lines and the town,\nsought for refuge under the walls. Angelica ordered the drawbridge\nto be let down, and the gates thrown open to the fugitives. With\nthese Agrican, not distinguished in the crowd, entered the place,\ndriving both Circassians and Cathayans before him, and the\nportcullis being dropped, he was shut in.\n\nFor a time the terror which he inspired put to flight all\nopposers, but when at last it came to be known that few or none of\nhis followers had effected an entrance with him, the fugitives\nrallied and surrounded him on all sides. While he was thus\napparently reduced to the last extremities, he was saved by the\nvery circumstance which threatened him with destruction. The\nsoldiers of Angelica, closing upon him from all sides, deserted\ntheir defences; and his own besieging army entered the city in a\npart where the wall was broken down.\n\nIn this way was Agrican rescued, the city taken, and the\ninhabitants put to the sword. Angelica, however, with some of the\nknights who were her defenders, among whom was Sacripant, saved\nherself in the citadel, which was planted upon a rock.\n\nThe fortress was impregnable, but it was scantily victualled, and\nill provided with other necessaries. Under these circumstances\nAngelica announced to those blockaded with her in the citadel her\nintention to go in quest of assistance, and, having plighted her\npromise of a speedy return, she set out, with the enchanted ring\nupon her finger. Mounted upon her palfrey, the damsel passed\nthrough the enemy's lines, and by sunrise was many miles clear of\ntheir encampment.\n\nIt so happened that her road led her near the fatal bridge of\nOblivion, and as she approached it she met a damsel weeping\nbitterly. It was Flordelis, whose lover, Florismart, as we have\nrelated, had met the fate of Orlando and many more, and fallen a\nvictim to the enchantress of the cup. She related her adventures\nto Angelica, and conjured her to lend what aid she might to rescue\nher lord and his companions. Angelica, accordingly, watching her\nopportunity and aided by her ring, slipped into the castle unseen,\nwhen the door was opened to admit a new victim. Here she speedily\ndisenchanted Orlando and the rest by a touch of her talisman. But\nFlorismart was not there. He had been given up to Falerina, a more\npowerful enchantress, and was still in durance. Angelica conjured\nthe rescued captives to assist her in the recovery of her kingdom,\nand all departed together for Albracca.\n\nThe arrival of Orlando, with his companions, nine in all, and\namong the bravest knights of France, changed at once the fortunes\nof the war. Wherever the great paladin came, pennon and standard\nfell before him. Agrican in vain attempted to rally his troops.\nOrlando kept constantly in his front, forcing him to attend to\nnobody else. The Tartar king at length bethought him of a\nstratagem. He turned his horse, and made a show of flying in\ndespair. Orlando dashed after him as he desired, and Agrican fled\ntill he reached a green place in a wood, where there was a\nfountain.\n\nThe place was beautiful, and the Tartar dismounted to refresh\nhimself at the fountain, but without taking off his helmet, or\nlaying aside any of his armor. Orlando was quickly at his back,\ncrying out, \"So bold, and yet a fugitive! How could you fly from a\nsingle arm and think to escape?\"\n\nThe Tartar king had leaped on his saddle the moment he saw his\nenemy, and when the paladin had done speaking, he said in a mild\nvoice, \"Without doubt you are the best knight I ever encountered,\nand fain would I leave you untouched for your own sake, if you\nwould cease to hinder me from rallying my people. I pretended to\nfly, in order to bring you out of the field. If you insist upon\nfighting I must needs fight and slay you, but I call the sun in\nthe heavens to witness I would rather not. I should be very sorry\nfor your death.\"\n\nThe Count Orlando felt pity for so much gallantry, and he said,\n\"The nobler you show yourself the more it grieves me to think that\nin dying without a knowledge of the true faith you will be lost in\nthe other world. Let me advise you to save body and soul at once.\nReceive baptism, and go your way in peace.\"\n\nAgrican replied: \"I suspect you to be the paladin Orlando. If you\nare I would not lose this opportunity of fighting with you to be\nking of Paradise. Talk to me no more about your things of another\nworld, for you will preach in vain. Each of us for himself, and\nlet the sword be umpire.\"\n\nThe Saracen drew his sword, boldly advancing upon Orlando, and a\ncombat began, so obstinate and so long, each warrior being a\nmiracle of prowess, that the story says it lasted from noon till\nnight. Orlando then seeing the stars come out was the first to\npropose a respite.\n\n\"What are we to do,\" said he, \"now that daylight has left us?\"\n\nAgrican answered readily enough, \"Let us repose in this meadow,\nand renew the combat at dawn.\"\n\nThe repose was taken accordingly. Each tied up his horse, and\nreclined himself on the grass, not far from the other, just as if\nthey had been friends, Orlando by the fountain, Agrican beneath a\npine. It was a beautiful clear night, and, as they talked together\nbefore addressing themselves to sleep, the champion of\nChristendom, looking up at the firmament, said, \"That is a fine\npiece of workmanship, that starry spectacle; God made it all, that\nmoon of silver, and those stars of gold, and the light of day, and\nthe sun,--all for the sake of human kind.\"\n\n\"You wish, I see, to talk of matters of faith,\" said the Tartar.\n\"Now I may as well tell you at once that I have no sort of skill\nin such matters, nor learning of any kind. I never could learn\nanything when I was a boy. I hated it so that I broke the man's\nhead who was commissioned to teach me; and it produced such an\neffect on others that nobody ever afterwards dared so much as show\nme a book. My boyhood was therefore passed, as it should be, in\nhorsemanship and hunting, and learning to fight. What is the good\nof a gentleman's poring all day over a book? Prowess to the\nknight, and preaching to the clergyman, that is my motto.\"\n\n\"I acknowledge,\" returned Orlando, \"that arms are the first\nconsideration of a gentleman; but not at all that he does himself\ndishonor by knowledge. On the contrary, knowledge is as great an\nembellishment of the rest of his attainments, as the flowers are\nto the meadow before us; and as to the knowledge of his Maker, the\nman that is without it is no better than a stock or a stone or a\nbrute beast. Neither without study can he reach anything of a due\nsense of the depth and divineness of the contemplation.\"\n\n\"Learned or not learned,\" said Agrican, \"you might show yourself\nbetter bred than by endeavoring to make me talk on a subject on\nwhich you have me at a disadvantage. If you choose to sleep I wish\nyou good night; but if you prefer talking I recommend you to talk\nof fighting or of fair ladies. And, by the way, pray tell me, are\nyou not that Orlando who makes such a noise in the world? And what\nis it, pray, that brings you into these parts? Were you ever in\nlove? I suppose you must have been; for to be a knight, and never\nto have been in love, would be like being a man without a heart in\nhis breast.\"\n\nThe count replied: \"Orlando I am, and in love I am. Love has made\nme abandon everything, and brought me into these distant regions,\nand, to tell you all in one word, my heart is in the hands of the\ndaughter of King Galafron. You have come against him with fire and\nsword, to get possession of his castles and his dominions; and I\nhave come to help him, for no object in the world but to please\nhis daughter and win her beautiful hand. I care for nothing else\nin existence.\"\n\nNow when the Tartar king, Agrican, heard his antagonist speak in\nthis manner, and knew him to be indeed Orlando, and to be in love\nwith Angelica, his face changed color for grief and jealousy,\nthough it could not be seen for the darkness. His heart began\nbeating with such violence that he felt as if he should have died.\n\"Well,\" said he to Orlando, \"we are to fight when it is daylight,\nand one or other is to be left here, dead on the ground. I have a\nproposal to make to you--nay, an entreaty. My love is so\nexcessive for the same lady that I beg you to leave her to me. I\nwill owe you my thanks, and give up the siege and put an end to\nthe war. I cannot bear that any one should love her, and that I\nshould live to see it. Why, therefore, should either of us perish?\nGive her up. Not a soul shall know it.\"\n\n\"I never yet,\" answered Orlando, \"made a promise which I did not\nkeep, and nevertheless I own to you that, were I to make a promise\nlike that, and even swear to keep it, I should not. You might as\nwell ask me to tear away the limbs from my body, and the eyes out\nof my head. I could as well live without breath itself as cease\nloving Angelica.\"\n\nAgrican had hardly patience to let him finish speaking, ere he\nleapt furiously on horseback, though it was midnight. \"Quit her,\"\nsaid he, \"or die!\"\n\nOrlando seeing the infidel getting up, and not being sure that he\nwould not add treachery to fierceness, had been hardly less quick\nin mounting for the combat. \"Never,\" exclaimed he; \"I never could\nhave quitted her if I would, and now I would not if I could. You\nmust seek her by other means than these.\"\n\nFiercely dashed their horses together, in the nighttime, on the\ngreen mead. Despiteful and terrible were the blows they gave and\ntook by the moonlight. Agrican fought in a rage, Orlando was\ncooler. And now the struggle had lasted more than five hours, and\nday began to dawn, when the Tartar king, furious to find so much\ntrouble given him, dealt his enemy a blow sharp and violent beyond\nconception. It cut the shield in two as if it had been made of\nwood, and, though blood could not be drawn from Orlando, because\nhe was fated, it shook and bruised him as if it had started every\njoint in his body.\n\nHis body only, however, not a particle of his soul. So dreadful\nwas the blow which the paladin gave in return, that not only\nshield, but every bit of mail on the body of Agrican was broken in\npieces, and three of his ribs cut asunder.\n\nThe Tartar, roaring like a lion, raised his sword with still\ngreater vehemence than before, and dealt a blow on the paladin's\nhelmet, such as he had never yet received from mortal man. For a\nmoment it took away his senses. His sight failed, his ears\ntingled, his frightened horse turned about to fly; and he was\nfalling from the saddle, when the very action of falling threw his\nhead upwards, and thus recalled his recollection.\n\n\"What a shame is this!\" thought he; \"how shall I ever again dare\nto face Angelica! I have been fighting hour after hour with this\nman, and he is but one, and I call myself Orlando! If the combat\nlast any longer I will bury myself in a monastery, and never look\non sword again.\"\n\nOrlando muttered with his lips closed and his teeth ground\ntogether; and you might have thought that fire instead of breath\ncame out of his nose and mouth. He raised his sword Durindana with\nboth his hands, and sent it down so tremendously on Agrican's\nshoulder that it cut through breastplate down to the very haunch,\nnay, crushed the saddle-bow, though it was made of bone and iron,\nand felled man and horse to the earth. Agrican turned as white as\nashes, and felt death upon him. He called Orlando to come close to\nhim, with a gentle voice, and said, as well as he could: \"I\nbelieve on Him who died on the cross. Baptize me, I pray thee,\nwith the fountain, before my senses are gone. I have lived an evil\nlife, but need not be rebellious to God in death also. May He who\ncame to save all the rest of the world save me!\" And he shed\ntears, that great king, though he had been so lofty and fierce.\n\nOrlando dismounted quickly, with his own face in tears. He\ngathered the king tenderly in his arms, and took and laid him by\nthe fountain, on a marble rim that it had, and then he wept in\nconcert with him heartily, and asked his pardon, and so baptized\nhim in the water of the fountain, and knelt and prayed to God for\nhim with joined hands.\n\nHe then paused and looked at him; and when he perceived his\ncountenance changed, and that his whole person was cold, he left\nhim there on the marble rim of the fountain, all armed as he was,\nwith the sword by his side, and the crown upon his head.\n\nADVENTURES OF RINALDO AND ORLANDO\n\nWe left Rinaldo when, having overcome the monster, he quitted the\ncastle of Altaripa, and pursued his way on foot. He soon met with\na weeping damsel, who, being questioned as to the cause of her\nsorrow, told him she was in search of one to do battle to rescue\nher lover, who had been made prisoner by a vile enchantress,\ntogether with Orlando and many more. The damsel was Flordelis, the\nlady-love of Florismart, and Rinaldo promised his assistance,\ntrusting to accomplish the adventure either by valor or skill.\nFlordelis insisted upon Rinaldo's taking her horse, which he\nconsented to do, on condition of her mounting behind him.\n\nAs they rode on through a wood, they heard strange noises, and\nRinaldo, reassuring the damsel, pressed forward towards the\nquarter from which they proceeded. He soon perceived a giant\nstanding under a vaulted cavern, with a huge club in his hand, and\nof an appearance to strike the boldest spirit with dread. By the\nside of the cavern was chained a griffin, which, together with the\ngiant, was stationed there to guard a wonderful horse, the same\nwhich was once Argalia's. This horse was a creature of\nenchantment, matchless in vigor, speed, and form, which disdained\nto share the diet of his fellow-steeds,--corn or grass,--and fed\nonly on air. His name was Rabican.\n\nThis marvellous horse, after his master Argalia had been slain by\nFerrau, finding himself at liberty, returned to his native cavern,\nand was here stabled under the protection of the giant and the\ngriffin. As Rinaldo approached, the giant assailed him with his\nclub. Rinaldo defended himself from the giant's blows, and gave\nhim one in return, which, if his skin had not been of the\ntoughest, would have finished the combat. But the giant, though\nwounded, escaped, and let loose the griffin. This monstrous bird\ntowered in air, and thence pounced down upon Rinaldo, who,\nwatching his opportunity, dealt her a desperate wound. She had,\nhowever, strength for another flight, and kept repeating her\nattacks, which Rinaldo parried as he could, while the damsel stood\ntrembling by, witnessing the contest.\n\nThe battle continued, rendered more terrible by the approach of\nnight, when Rinaldo determined upon a desperate expedient to bring\nit to a conclusion. He fell, as if fainting from his wounds, and,\non the close approach of the griffin, dealt her a blow which\nsheared away one of her wings. The beast, though sinking, griped\nhim fast with her talons, digging through plate and mail; but\nRinaldo plied his sword in utter desperation, and at last\naccomplished her destruction.\n\nRinaldo then entered the cavern, and found there the wonderful\nhorse, all caparisoned. He was coal-black, except for a star of\nwhite on his forehead, and one white foot behind. For speed he was\nunrivalled, though in strength he yielded to Bayard. Rinaldo\nmounted upon Rabican, and issued from the cavern.\n\nAs he pursued his way he met a fugitive from Agrican's army, who\ngave such an account of the prowess of a champion who fought on\nthe side of Angelica, that Rinaldo was persuaded this must be\nOrlando, though at a loss to imagine how he could have been freed\nfrom captivity. He determined to repair to the scene of the\ncontest to satisfy his curiosity, and Flordelis, hoping to find\nFlorismart with Orlando, consented to accompany him.\n\nWhile these things were doing, all was rout and dismay in the\nTartarian army, from the death of Agrican. King Galafron, arriving\nat this juncture with an army for the relief of his capital,\nAlbracca, assaulted the enemy's camp, and carried all before him.\nRinaldo had now reached the scene of action, and was looking on as\nan unconcerned spectator, when he was espied by Galafron. The king\ninstantly recognized the horse Rabican, which he had given to\nArgalia when he sent him forth on his ill-omened mission to Paris.\nPossessed with the idea that the rider of the horse was the\nmurderer of Argalia, Galafron rode at Rinaldo, and smote him with\nall his force. Rinaldo was not slow to avenge the blow, and it\nwould have gone hard with the king had not his followers instantly\nclosed round him and separated the combatants.\n\nRinaldo thus found himself, almost without his own choice,\nenlisted on the side of the enemies of Angelica, which gave him no\nconcern, so completely had his draught from the fountain of hate\nsteeled his mind against her.\n\nFor several successive days the struggle continued, without any\nimportant results, Rinaldo meeting the bravest knights of\nAngelica's party, and defeating them one after the other. At\nlength he encountered Orlando, and the two knights bitterly\nreproached one another for the cause they had each adopted, and\nengaged in a furious combat. Orlando was mounted upon Bayard,\nRinaldo's horse, which Agrican had by chance become possessed of,\nand Orlando had taken from him as the prize of victory. Bayard\nwould not fight against his master, and Orlando was getting the\nworse of the encounter, when suddenly Rinaldo, seeing Astolpho,\nwho for love of him had arrayed himself on his side, hard beset by\nnumbers, left Orlando to rush to the defence of his friend. Night\nprevented the combat from being renewed; but a challenge was given\nand accepted for their next meeting.\n\nBut Angelica, sighing in her heart for Rinaldo, was not willing\nthat he should be again exposed to so terrible a venture. She\nbegged a boon of Orlando, promising she would be his if he would\ndo her bidding. On receiving his promise, she enjoined him to set\nout without delay to destroy the garden of the enchantress\nFalerina, in which many valiant knights had been entrapped, and\nwere imprisoned.\n\nOrlando departed on his horse Brigliadoro, leaving Bayard in\ndisgrace for his bad deportment the day before. Angelica, to\nconciliate Rinaldo, sent Bayard to him; but Rinaldo remained\nunmoved by this as by all her former acts of kindness.\n\nWhen Rinaldo learned Orlando's departure, he yielded to the\nentreaties of the lady of Florismart, and prepared to fulfil his\npromise, and rescue her lover from the power of the enchantress.\nThus both Rinaldo and Orlando were bound upon the same adventure,\nbut unknown to one another.\n\nThe castle of Falerina was protected by a river, which was crossed\nby a bridge, kept by a ruffian, who challenged all comers to the\ncombat; and such was his strength that he had thus far prevailed\nin every encounter, as appeared by the arms of various knights\nwhich he had taken from them, and piled up as a trophy on the\nshore. Rinaldo attacked him, but with as bad success as the rest,\nfor the bridge-ward struck him so violent a blow with an iron mace\nthat he fell to the ground. But when the villain approached to\nstrip him of his armor, Rinaldo seized him, and the bridge-ward,\nbeing unable to free himself, leapt with Rinaldo into the lake,\nwhere they both disappeared.\n\nOrlando, meanwhile, in discharge of his promise to Angelica,\npursued his way in quest of the same adventure. In passing through\na wood he saw a cavalier armed at all points, and mounted, keeping\nguard over a lady who was bound to a tree, weeping bitterly.\nOrlando hastened to her relief, but was exhorted by the knight not\nto interfere, for she had deserved her fate by her wickedness. In\nproof of which he made certain charges against her. The lady\ndenied them all, and Orlando believed her, defied the knight,\noverthrew him, and, releasing the lady, departed with her seated\non his horse's croup.\n\nWhile they rode another damsel approached on a white palfrey, who\nwarned Orlando of impending danger, and informed him that he was\nnear the garden of the enchantress. Orlando was delighted with the\nintelligence, and entreated her to inform him how he was to gain\nadmittance. She replied that the garden could only be entered at\nsunrise and gave him such instructions as would enable him to gain\nadmittance. She gave him also a book in which was painted the\ngarden and all that it contained, together with the palace of the\nfalse enchantress, where she had secluded herself for the purpose\nof executing a magic work in which she was engaged. This was the\nmanufacture of a sword capable of cutting even through enchanted\nsubstances The object of this labor, the damsel told him, was the\ndestruction of a knight of the west, by name Orlando, who she had\nread in the book of Fate was coming to demolish her garden. Having\nthus instructed him, the damsel departed.\n\nOrlando, finding he must delay his enterprise till the next\nmorning, now lay down and was soon asleep. Seeing this, the base\nwoman whom he had rescued, and who was intent on making her escape\nto rejoin her paramour, mounted Brigliadoro, and rode off,\ncarrying away Durindana.\n\nWhen Orlando awoke, his indignation, as may be supposed, was great\non the discovery of the theft; but, like a good knight and true,\nhe was not to be diverted from his enterprise. He tore off a huge\nbranch of an elm to supply the place of his sword; and, as the sun\nrose, took his way towards the gate of the garden, where a dragon\nwas on his watch. This he slew by repeated blows, and entered the\ngarden, the gate of which closed behind him, barring retreat.\nLooking round him, he saw a fair fountain, which overflowed into a\nriver, and in the centre of the fountain a figure, on whose\nforehead was written:\n\n    \"The stream which waters violet and rose,\n     From hence to the enchanted palace goes.\"\n\nFollowing the banks of this flowing stream, and rapt in the\ndelights of the charming garden, Orlando arrived at the palace,\nand entering it, found the mistress, clad in white, with a crown\nof gold upon her head, in the act of viewing herself in the\nsurface of the magic sword. Orlando surprised her before she could\nescape, deprived her of the weapon, and holding her fast by her\nlong hair, which floated behind, threatened her with immediate\ndeath if she did not yield up her prisoners, and afford him the\nmeans of egress. She, however, was firm of purpose, making no\nreply, and Orlando, unable to move her either by threats or\nentreaties, was under the necessity of binding her to a beech, and\npursuing his quest as he best might.\n\nHe then bethought him of his book, and, consulting it, found that\nthere was an outlet to the south, but that to reach it a lake was\nto be passed, inhabited by a siren, whose song was so entrancing\nas to be quite irresistible to whoever heard it; but his book\ninstructed him how to protect himself against this danger.\nAccording to its directions, while pursuing his path, he gathered\nabundance of flowers, which sprung all around, and filled his\nhelmet and his ears with them; then listened if he heard the birds\nsing. Finding that, though he saw the gaping beak, the swelling\nthroat, and ruffled plumes, he could not catch a note, he felt\nsatisfied with his defence, and advanced toward the lake. It was\nsmall but deep, and so clear and tranquil that the eye could\npenetrate to the bottom.\n\nHe had no, sooner arrived upon the banks than the waters were seen\nto gurgle, and the siren, rising midway out of the pool, sung so\nsweetly that birds and beasts came trooping to the water-side to\nlisten. Of this Orlando heard nothing, but, feigning to yield to\nthe charm, sank down upon the bank. The siren issued from the\nwater with the intent to accomplish his destruction. Orlando\nseized her by the hair, and while she sang yet louder (song being\nher only defence) cut off her head. Then, following the directions\nof the book, he stained himself all over with her blood.\n\nGuarded by this talisman, he met successively all the monsters set\nfor defence of the enchantress and her garden, and at length found\nhimself again at the spot where he had made captive the\nenchantress, who still continued fastened to the beech. But the\nscene was changed. The garden had disappeared, and Falerina,\nbefore so haughty, now begged for mercy, assuring him that many\nlives depended upon the preservation of hers. Orlando promised her\nlife upon her pledging herself for the deliverance of her\ncaptives.\n\nThis, however, was no easy task. They were not in her possession,\nbut in that of a much more powerful enchantress, Morgana, the Lady\nof the Lake, the very idea of opposing whom made Falerina turn\npale with fear. Representing to him the hazards of the enterprise,\nshe led him towards the dwelling of Morgana. To approach it he had\nto encounter the same uncourteous bridge-ward who had already\ndefeated and made captive so many knights, and last of all,\nRinaldo. He was a churl of the most ferocious character, named\nArridano. Morgana had provided him with impenetrable armor, and\nendowed him in such a manner that his strength always increased in\nproportion to that of the adversary with whom he was matched. No\none had ever yet escaped from the contest, since, such was his\npower of endurance, he could breathe freely under water. Hence,\nhaving grappled with a knight, and sunk with him to the bottom of\nthe lake, he returned, bearing his enemy's arms in triumph to the\nsurface.\n\nWhile Falerina was repeating her cautions and her counsels Orlando\nsaw Rinaldo's arms erected in form of a trophy, among other spoils\nmade by the villain, and, forgetting their late quarrel,\ndetermined upon revenging his friend. Arriving at the pass, the\nchurl presuming to bar the way, a desperate contest ensued, during\nwhich Falerina escaped. The churl finding himself overmatched at a\ncontest of arms, resorted to his peculiar art, grappled his\nantagonist, and plunged with him into the lake. When he reached\nthe bottom Orlando found himself in another world, upon a dry\nmeadow, with the lake overhead, through which shone the beams of\nour sun, while the water stood on all sides like a crystal wall.\nHere the battle was renewed, and Orlando had in his magic sword an\nadvantage which none had hitherto possessed. It had been tempered\nby Falerina so that no spells could avail against it. Thus armed,\nand countervailing the strength of his adversary by his superior\nskill and activity, it was not long before he laid him dead upon\nthe field.\n\nOrlando then made all haste to return to the upper air, and,\npassing through the water, which opened a way before him (such was\nthe power of the magic sword), he soon regained the shore, and\nfound himself in a field as thickly covered with precious stones\nas the sky is with stars.\n\nOrlando crossed the field, not tempted to delay his enterprise by\ngathering any of the brilliant gems spread all around him. He next\npassed into a flowery meadow planted with trees, covered with\nfruit and flowers, and full of all imaginable delights.\n\nIn the middle of this meadow was a fountain, and fast by it lay\nMorgana asleep; a lady of a lovely aspect, dressed in white and\nvermilion garments, her forehead well furnished with hair, while\nshe had scarcely any behind.\n\nWhile Orlando stood in silence contemplating her beauty he heard a\nvoice exclaim: \"Seize the fairy by the forelock, if thou hopest\nfair success.\" But his attention was arrested by another object,\nand he heeded not the warning. He saw on a sudden an array of\ntowers, pinnacles and columns, palaces with balconies and windows,\nextended alleys with trees, in short a scene of architectural\nmagnificence surpassing all he had ever beheld. While he stood\ngazing in silent astonishment the scene slowly melted away and\ndisappeared. [Footnote: This is a poetical description of a\nphenomenon which is said to be really exhibited in the strait of\nMessina, between Sicily and Calabria. It is called Fata Morgana,\nor Mirage.]\n\nWhen he had recovered from his amazement he looked again toward\nthe fountain. The fairy had awaked and risen, and was dancing\nround its border with the lightness of a leaf, timing her\nfootsteps to this song:\n\n    \"Who in this world would wealth and treasure share,\n     Honor, delight, and state, and what is best,\n     Quick let him catch me by the lock of hair\n     Which flutters from my forehead; and be blest.\n\n    \"But let him not the proffered good forbear,\n     Nor till he seize the fleeting blessing rest;\n     For present loss is sought in vain to-morrow,\n     And the deluded wretch is left in sorrow.\"\n\nThe fairy, having sung thus, bounded off, and fled from the\nflowery meadow over a high and inaccessible mountain. Orlando\npursued her through thorns and rocks, while the sky gradually\nbecame overcast, and at last he was assailed by tempest,\nlightning, and hail.\n\nWhile he thus pursued, a pale and meagre woman issued from a cave,\narmed with a whip, and, treading close upon his steps, scourged\nhim with vigorous strokes. Her name was Repentance, and she told\nhim it was her office to punish those who neglected to obey the\nvoice of Prudence, and seize the fairy Fortune when he might.\n\nOrlando, furious at this chastisement, turned upon his tormentor,\nbut might as well have stricken the wind. Finding it useless to\nresist, he resumed his chase of the fairy, gained upon her, and\nmade frequent snatches at her white and vermilion garments, which\nstill eluded his grasp. At last, on her turning her head for an\ninstant, he profited by the chance, and seized her by the\nforelock. In an instant the tempest ceased, the sky became serene,\nand Repentance retreated to her cave.\n\nOrlando now demanded of Morgana the keys of her prison, and the\nfairy, feigning a complacent aspect, delivered up a key of silver,\nbidding him to be cautious in the use of it, since to break the\nlock would be to involve himself and all in inevitable\ndestruction; a caution which gave the Count room for long\nmeditation, and led him to consider\n\n    How few amid the suitors who importune\n    The dame, know how to turn the keys of Fortune.\n\nKeeping the fairy still fast by the forelock, Orlando proceeded\ntoward the prison, turned the key, without occasioning the\nmischiefs apprehended, and delivered the prisoners.\n\nAmong these were Florismart, Rinaldo, and many others of the\nbravest knights of France. Morgana had disappeared, and the\nknights, under the guidance of Orlando, retraced the path by which\nhe had come. They soon reached the field of treasure. Rinaldo,\nfinding himself amidst this mass of wealth, remembered his needy\ngarrison of Montalban, and could not resist the temptation of\nseizing part of the booty. In particular a golden chain, studded\nwith diamonds, was too much for his self-denial, and he took it\nand was bearing it off, notwithstanding the remonstrances of\nOrlando, when a violent wind caught him and whirled him back, as\nhe approached the gate. This happened a second and a third time,\nand Rinaldo at length yielded to necessity, rather than to the\nentreaties of his friends, and cast away his prize.\n\nThey soon reached the bridge and passed over without hindrance to\nthe other side, where they found the trophy decorated with their\narms. Here each knight resumed his own, and all, except the\npaladins and their friends, separated as their inclinations or\nduty prompted. Dudon, the Dane, one of the rescued knights,\ninformed the cousins that he had been made prisoner by Morgana\nwhile in the discharge of an embassy to them from Charlemagne, who\ncalled upon them to return to the defence of Christendom. Orlando\nwas too much fascinated by Angelica to obey this summons, and,\nfollowed by the faithful Florismart, who would not leave him,\nreturned towards Albracca. Rinaldo, Dudon, Iroldo, Prasildo, and\nthe others took their way toward the west.\n\nTHE INVASION OF FRANCE\n\nAgramant, King of Africa, convoked the kings, his vassals, to\ndeliberate in council. He reminded them of the injuries he had\nsustained from France, that his father had fallen in battle with\nCharlemagne, and that his early years had hitherto not allowed him\nto wipe out the stain of former defeats. He now proposed to them\nto carry war into France.\n\nSobrino, his wisest councillor, opposed the project, representing\nthe rashness of it; but Rodomont, the young and fiery king of\nAlgiers, denounced Sobrino's counsel as base and cowardly,\ndeclaring himself impatient for the enterprise. The king of the\nGaramantes, venerable for his age and renowned for his prophetic\nlore, interposed, and assured the King that such an attempt would\nbe sure to fail, unless he could first get on his side a youth\nmarked out by destiny as the fitting compeer of the most puissant\nknights of France, the young Rogero, descended in direct line from\nHector of Troy. This prince was now a dweller upon the mountain\nCarena, where Atlantes, his foster-father, a powerful magician,\nkept him in retirement, having discovered by his art that his\npupil would be lost to him if allowed to mingle with the world. To\nbreak the spells of Atlantes, and draw Rogero from his retirement,\none only means was to be found. It was a ring possessed by\nAngelica, Princess of Cathay, which was a talisman against all\nenchantments. If this ring could be procured all would go well;\nwithout it the enterprise was desperate.\n\nRodomont treated this declaration of the old prophet with scorn,\nand it would probably have been held of little weight by the\ncouncil, had not the aged king, oppressed by the weight of years,\nexpired in the very act of reaffirming his prediction. This made\nso deep an impression on the council that it was unanimously\nresolved to postpone the war until an effort should be made to win\nRogero to the camp.\n\nKing Agramant thereupon proclaimed that the sovereignty of a\nkingdom should be the reward of whoever should succeed in\nobtaining the ring of Angelica. Brunello the dwarf, the subtlest\nthief in all Africa, undertook to procure it.\n\nIn prosecution of this design, he made the best of his way to\nAngelica's kingdom, and arrived beneath the walls of Albracca\nwhile the besieging army was encamped before the fortress. While\nthe attention of the garrison was absorbed by the battle that\nraged below he scaled the walls, approached the Princess\nunnoticed, slipped the ring from her finger, and escaped\nunobserved. He hastened to the seaside, and, finding a vessel\nready to sail, embarked, and arrived at Biserta, in Africa. Here\nhe found Agramant impatient for the talisman which was to foil the\nenchantments of Atlantes and to put Rogero into his hands. The\ndwarf, kneeling before the king, presented him with the ring, and\nAgramant, delighted at the success of his mission, crowned him in\nrecompense King of Tingitana.\n\nAll were now anxious to go in quest of Rogero. The cavalcade\naccordingly departed, and in due time arrived at the mountain of\nCarena.\n\nAt the bottom of this was a fruitful and well-wooded plain,\nwatered by a large river, and from this plain was descried a\nbeautiful garden on the mountain-top, which contained the mansion\nof Atlantes; but the ring, which discovered what was before\ninvisible, could not, though it revealed this paradise, enable\nAgramant or his followers to enter it. So steep and smooth was the\nrock by nature, that even Brunello failed in every attempt to\nscale it. He did not, for this, despair of accomplishing the\nobject; but, having obtained Agramant's consent, caused the\nassembled courtiers and knights to celebrate a tournament upon the\nplain below. This was done with the view of seducing Rogero from\nhis fastness, and the stratagem was attended with success.\n\nRogero joined the tourney, and was presented by Agramant with a\nsplendid horse, Frontino, and a magnificent sword. Having learned\nfrom Agramant his intended invasion of France, he gladly consented\nto join the expedition.\n\nRodomont, meanwhile, was too impatient to wait for Agramant's\narrangements, and embarked with all the forces he could raise,\nmade good his landing on the coast of France, and routed the\nChristians in several encounters. Previously to this, however,\nGano, or Ganelon (as he is sometimes called), the traitor, enemy\nof Orlando and the other nephews of Charlemagne, had entered into\na traitorous correspondence with Marsilius, the Saracen king of\nSpain, whom he invited into France. Marsilius, thus encouraged,\nled an army across the frontiers, and joined Rodomont. This was\nthe situation of things when Rinaldo and the other knights who had\nobeyed the summons of Dudon set forward on their return to France.\n\nWhen they arrived at Buda in Hungary they found the king of that\ncountry about despatching his son, Ottachiero, with an army to the\nsuccor of Charlemagne. Delighted with the arrival of Rinaldo, he\nplaced his son and troops under his command. In due time the army\narrived on the frontiers of France, and, united with the troops of\nDesiderius, king of Lombardy, poured down into Provence. The\nconfederate armies had not marched many days through this gay\ntract before they heard a crash of drums and trumpets behind the\nhills, which spoke the conflict between the paynims, led by\nRodomont, and the Christian forces. Rinaldo, witnessing from a\nmountain the prowess of Rodomont, left his troops in charge of his\nfriends, and galloped towards him with his lance in rest. The\nimpulse was irresistible, and Rodomont was unhorsed. But Rinaldo,\nunwilling to avail himself of his advantage, galloped back to the\nhill, and having secured Bayard among the baggage, returned to\nfinish the combat on foot.\n\nDuring this interval the battle had become general, the Hungarians\nwere routed, and Rinaldo, on his return, had the mortification to\nfind that Ottachiero was wounded, and Dudon taken prisoner. While\nhe sought Rodomont in order to renew the combat a new sound of\ndrums and trumpets was heard, and Charlemagne, with the main body\nof his army, was descried advancing in battle array.\n\nRodomont, seeing this, mounted the horse of Dudon, left Rinaldo,\nwho was on foot, and galloped off to encounter this new enemy.\n\nAgramant, accompanied by Rogero, had by this time made good his\nlanding, and joined Rodomont with all his forces. Rogero eagerly\nembraced this first opportunity of distinguishing himself, and\nspread terror wherever he went, encountering in turn and\noverthrowing many of the bravest knights of France. At length he\nfound himself opposite to Rinaldo, who, being interrupted, as we\nhave said, in his combat with Rodomont, and unable to follow him,\nbeing on foot, was shouting to his late foe to return and finish\ntheir combat. Rogero also was on foot, and seeing the Christian\nknight so eager for a contest, proffered himself to supply the\nplace of his late antagonist. Rinaldo saw at a glance that the\nMoorish prince was a champion worthy of his arm, and gladly\naccepted the defiance. The combat was stoutly maintained for a\ntime; but now fortune declared decisively in favor of the infidel\narmy, and Charlemagne's forces gave way at all points in\nirreparable confusion. The two combatants were separated by the\ncrowd of fugitives and pursuers, and Rinaldo hastened to recover\npossession of his horse. But Bayard, in the confusion, had got\nloose, and Rinaldo followed him into a thick wood, thus becoming\neffectually separated from Rogero.\n\nRogero, also seeking his horse in the medley, came where two\nwarriors were engaged in mortal combat. Though he knew not who\nthey were, he could distinguish that one was a paynim and the\nother a Christian; and moved by the spirit of courtesy he\napproached them and exclaimed, \"Let him of the two who worships\nChrist pause, and hear what I have to say. The army of Charles is\nrouted and in flight, so that if he wishes to follow his leader he\nhas no time for delay.\" The Christian knight, who was none other\nthan Bradamante, a female warrior, in prowess equal to the best of\nknights, was thunderstruck with the tidings, and would gladly\nleave the contest undecided, and retire from the field; but\nRodomont, her antagonist, would by no means consent. Rogero,\nindignant at his discourtesy, insisted upon her departure, while\nhe took up her quarrel with Rodomont.\n\nThe combat, obstinately maintained on both sides, was interrupted\nby the return of Bradamante. Finding herself unable to overtake\nthe fugitives, and reluctant to leave to another the burden and\nrisk of a contest which belonged to herself, she had returned to\nreclaim the combat. She arrived, however, when her champion had\ndealt his enemy such a blow as obliged him to drop both his sword\nand bridle. Rogero, disdaining to profit by his adversary's\ndefenceless situation, sat apart upon his horse, while that of\nRodomont bore his rider, stunned and stupefied, about the field.\n\nBradamante approached Rogero, conceiving a yet higher opinion of\nhis valor on beholding such an instance of forbearance. She\naddressed him, excusing herself for leaving him exposed to an\nenemy from his interference in her cause; pleading her duty to her\nsovereign as the motive. While she spoke Rodomont, recovered from\nhis confusion, rode up to them. His bearing was, however, changed;\nand he disclaimed all thoughts of further contest with one who, he\nsaid, \"had already conquered him by his courtesy.\" So saying, he\nquitted his antagonist, picked up his sword, and spurred out of\nsight.\n\nBradamante was now again desirous of retiring from the field, and\nRogero insisted on accompanying her, though yet unaware of her\nsex.\n\nAs they pursued their way, she inquired the name and quality of\nher new associate; and Rogero informed her of his nation and\nfamily. He told her that Astyanax, the son of Hector of Troy,\nestablished the kingdom of Messina in Sicily. From him were\nderived two branches, which gave origin to two families of renown.\nFrom one sprang the royal race of Pepin and Charlemagne, and from\nthe other, that of Reggio, in Italy. \"From that of Reggio am I\nderived,\" he continued. \"My mother, driven from her home by the\nchance of war, died in giving me life, and I was taken in charge\nby a sage enchanter, who trained me to feats of arms amidst the\ndangers of the desert and the chase.\"\n\nHaving thus ended his tale, Rogero entreated a similar return of\ncourtesy from his companion, who replied, without disguise, that\nshe was of the race of Clermont, and sister to Rinaldo, whose fame\nwas perhaps known to him. Rogero, much moved by this intelligence,\nentreated her to take off her helmet, and at the discovery of her\nface remained transported with delight.\n\nWhile absorbed in this contemplation, an unexpected danger\nassailed them. A party which was placed in a wood, in order to\nintercept the retreating Christians, broke from its ambush upon\nthe pair, and Bradamante, who was uncasqued, was wounded in the\nhead. Rogero was in a fury at this attack; and Bradamante,\nreplacing her helmet, joined him in taking speedy vengeance on\ntheir enemies. They cleared the field of them, but became\nseparated in the pursuit, and Rogero, quitting the chase, wandered\nby hill and vale in search of her whom he had no sooner found than\nlost.\n\nWhile pursuing this quest he fell in with two knights, whom he\njoined, and engaged them to assist him in the search of his\ncompanion, describing her arms, but concealing, from a certain\nfeeling of jealousy, her quality and sex.\n\nIt was evening when they joined company, and having ridden\ntogether through the night the morning was beginning to break,\nwhen one of the strangers, fixing his eyes upon Rogero's shield,\ndemanded of him by what right he bore the Trojan arms. Rogero\ndeclared his origin and race, and then, in his turn, interrogated\nthe inquirer as to his pretensions to the cognizance of Hector,\nwhich he bore. The stranger replied, \"My name is Mandricardo, son\nof Agrican, the Tartar king, whom Orlando treacherously slew. I\nsay treacherously, for in fair fight he could not have done it. It\nis in search of him that I have come to France, to take vengeance\nfor my father, and to wrest from him Durindana, that famous sword,\nwhich belongs to me, and not to him.\" When the knights demanded to\nknow by what right he claimed Durindana, Mandricardo thus related\nhis history:\n\n\"I had been, before the death of my father, a wild and reckless\nyouth. That event awakened my energies, and drove me forth to seek\nfor vengeance. Determined to owe success to nothing but my own\nexertions, I departed without attendants or horse or arms.\nTravelling thus alone, and on foot, I espied one day a pavilion,\npitched near a fountain, and entered it, intent on adventure. I\nfound therein a damsel of gracious aspect, who replied to my\ninquiries that the fountain was the work of a fairy, whose castle\nstood beyond a neighboring hill, where she kept watch over a\ntreasure which many knights had tried to win, but fruitlessly,\nhaving lost their life or liberty in the attempt. This treasure\nwas the armor of Hector, prince of Troy, whom Achilles\ntreacherously slew. Nothing was wanting but his sword, Durindana,\nand this had fallen into the possession of a queen named\nPenthesilea, from whom it passed through her descendants to\nAlmontes, whom Orlando slew, and thus became possessed of the\nsword. The rest of Hector's arms were saved and carried off by\nAeneas, from whom this fairy received them in recompense of\nservice rendered. 'If you have the courage to attempt their\nacquisition,' said the damsel, 'I will be your guide.'\"\n\nMandricardo went on to say that he eagerly embraced the proposal,\nand being provided with horse and armor by the damsel, set forth\non his enterprise, the lady accompanying him.\n\nAs they rode she explained the dangers of the quest. The armor was\ndefended by a champion, one of the numerous unsuccessful\nadventurers for the prize, all of whom had been made prisoners by\nthe fairy, and compelled to take their turn, day by day, in\ndefending the arms against all comers. Thus speaking they arrived\nat the castle, which was of alabaster, overlaid with gold. Before\nit, on a lawn, sat an armed knight on horseback, who was none\nother than Gradasso, king of Sericane, who, in his return home\nfrom his unsuccessful inroad into France, had fallen into the\npower of the fairy, and was held to do her bidding. Mandricardo,\nupon seeing him, dropt his visor, and laid his lance in rest. The\nchampion of the castle was equally ready, and each spurred towards\nhis opponent. They met one another with equal force, splintered\ntheir spears, and, returning to the charge, encountered with their\nswords. The contest was long and doubtful, when Mandricardo,\ndetermined to bring it to an end, threw his arms about Gradasso,\ngrappled with him, and both fell to the ground. Mandricardo,\nhowever, fell uppermost, and, preserving his advantage, compelled\nGradasso to yield himself conquered. The damsel now interfered,\ncongratulating the victor, and consoling the vanquished as well as\nshe might.\n\nMandricardo and the damsel proceeded to the gate of the castle,\nwhich they found undefended. As they entered they beheld a shield\nsuspended from a pilaster of gold. The device was a white eagle on\nan azure field, in memory of the bird of Jove, which bore away\nGanymede, the flower of the Phrygian race. Beneath was engraved\nthe following couplet:\n\n    \"Let none with hand profane my buckler wrong\n     Unless he be himself as Hector strong.\"\n\nThe damsel, alighting from her palfrey, made obeisance to the\narms, bending herself to the ground. The Tartar king bowed his\nhead with equal reverence; then advancing towards the shield,\ntouched it with his sword. Thereupon an earthquake shook the\nground, and the way by which he had entered closed. Another and an\nopposite gate opened, and displayed a field bristling with stalks\nand grain of gold. The damsel, upon this, told him that he had no\nmeans of retreat but by cutting down the harvest which was before\nhim, and by uprooting a tree which grew in the middle of the\nfield. Mandricardo, without replying, began to mow the harvest\nwith his sword, but had scarce smitten thrice when he perceived\nthat every stalk that fell was instantly transformed into some\npoisonous or ravenous animal, which prepared to assail him.\nInstructed by the damsel, he snatched up a stone and cast it among\nthe pack. A strange wonder followed; for no sooner had the stone\nfallen among the beasts, than they turned their rage against one\nanother, and rent each other to pieces. Mandricardo did not stop\nto marvel at the miracle, but proceeded to fulfil his task, and\nuproot the tree. He clasped it round the trunk, and made vigorous\nefforts to tear it up by the roots. At each effort fell a shower\nof leaves, that were instantly changed into birds of prey, which\nattacked the knight, flapping their wings in his face, with horrid\nscreeching. But undismayed by this new annoyance, he continued to\ntug at the trunk till it yielded to his efforts. A burst of wind\nand thunder followed, and the hawks and vultures flew screaming\naway.\n\nBut these only gave place to a new foe; for from the hole made by\ntearing up the tree issued a furious serpent, and, darting at\nMandricardo, wound herself about his limbs with a strain that\nalmost crushed him. Fortune, however, again stood his friend, for,\nwrithing under the folds of the monster, he fell backwards into\nthe hole, and his enemy was crushed beneath his weight.\n\nMandricardo, when he was somewhat recovered, and assured himself\nof the destruction of the serpent, began to contemplate the place\ninto which he had fallen, and saw that he was in a vault,\nincrusted with costly metals, and illuminated by a live coal. In\nthe middle was a sort of ivory bier, and upon this was extended\nwhat appeared to be a knight in armor, but was in truth an empty\ntrophy, composed of the rich and precious arms once Hector's, to\nwhich nothing was wanting but the sword. While Mandricardo stood\ncontemplating the prize a door opened behind him, and a bevy of\nfair damsels entered, dancing, who, taking up the armor piece by\npiece, led him away to the place where the shield was suspended;\nwhere he found the fairy of the castle seated in state. By her he\nwas invested with the arms he had won, first pledging his solemn\noath to wear no other blade but Durindana, which he was to wrest\nfrom Orlando, and thus complete the conquest of Hector's arms.\n\nTHE INVASION OF FRANCE (Continued)\n\nMandricardo, having completed his story, now turned to Rogero, and\nproposed that arms should decide which of the two was most worthy\nto bear the symbol of the Trojan knight.\n\nRogero felt no other objection to this proposal than the scruple\nwhich arose on observing that his antagonist was without a sword.\nMandricardo insisted that this need be no impediment, since his\noath prevented him from using a sword until he should have\nachieved the conquest of Durindana.\n\nThis was no sooner said than a new antagonist started up in\nGradasso, who now accompanied Mandricardo. Gradasso vindicated his\nprior right to Durindana, to obtain which he had embarked (as was\nrelated in the beginning) in that bold inroad upon France. A\nquarrel was thus kindled between the kings of Tartary and\nSericane. While the dispute was raging a knight arrived upon the\nground, accompanied by a damsel, to whom Rogero related the cause\nof the strife. The knight was Florismart, and his companion\nFlordelis. Florismart succeeded in bringing the two champions to\naccord, by informing them that he could bring them to the presence\nof Orlando, the master of Durindana.\n\nGradasso and Mandricardo readily made truce, in order to accompany\nFlorismart, nor would Rogero be left behind.\n\nAs they proceeded on their quest they were met by a dwarf, who\nentreated their assistance in behalf of his lady, who had been\ncarried off by an enchanter, mounted on a winged horse. However\nunwilling to leave the question of the sword undecided, it was not\npossible for the knights to resist this appeal. Two of their\nnumber, Gradasso and Rogero, therefore accompanied the dwarf.\nMandricardo persisted in his search for Orlando, and Florismart,\nwith Flordelis, pursued their way to the camp of Charlemagne.\n\nAtlantes, the enchanter, who had brought up Rogero, and cherished\nfor him the warmest affection, knew by his art that his pupil was\ndestined to be severed from him, and converted to the Christian\nfaith through the influence of Bradamante, that royal maiden with\nwhom chance had brought him acquainted. Thinking to thwart the\nwill of Heaven in this respect, he now put forth all his arts to\nentrap Rogero into his power. By the aid of his subservient demons\nhe reared a castle on an inaccessible height, in the Pyrenean\nmountains, and to make it a pleasant abode to his pupil, contrived\nto entrap and convey thither knights and damsels many a one, whom\nchance had brought into the vicinity of his castle. Here, in a\nsort of sensual paradise, they were but too willing to forget\nglory and duty, and to pass their time in indolent enjoyment\n\nIt was by the enchanter that the dwarf had now been sent to tempt\nthe knights into his power.\n\nBut we must now return to Rinaldo, whom we left interrupted in his\ncombat with Rodomont. In search of his late antagonist and intent\non bringing their combat to a decision he entered the forest of\nArden, whither he suspected Rodomont had gone. While engaged on\nthis quest he was surprised by the vision of a beautiful child\ndancing naked, with three damsels as beautiful as himself. While\nhe was lost in admiration at the sight the child approached him,\nand, throwing at him handfuls of roses and lilies, struck him from\nhis horse. He was no sooner down than he was seized by the\ndancers, by whom he was dragged about and scourged with flowers\ntill he fell into a swoon. When he began to revive one of the\ngroup approached him, and told him that his punishment was the\nconsequence of his rebellion against that power before whom all\nthings bend; that there was but one remedy to heal the wounds that\nhad been inflicted, and that was to drink of the waters of Love.\nThen they left him.\n\nRinaldo, sore and faint, dragged himself toward a fountain which\nflowed near by, and, being parched with thirst, drank greedily and\nalmost unconsciously of the water, which was sweet to the taste,\nbut bitter to the heart. After repeated draughts he recovered his\nstrength and recollection, and found himself in the same place\nwhere Angelica had formerly awakened him with a rain of flowers,\nand whence he had fled in contempt of her courtesy.\n\nThis remembrance of the scene was followed by the recognition of\nhis crime; and, repenting bitterly his ingratitude, he leaped upon\nBayard, with the intention of hastening to Angelica's country, and\nsoliciting his pardon at her feet.\n\nLet us now retrace our steps, and revert to the time when the\npaladins having learned from Dudon the summons of Charlemagne to\nreturn to France to repel the invaders, had all obeyed the command\nwith the exception of Orlando, whose passion for Angelica still\nheld him in attendance on her. Orlando, arriving before Albracca,\nfound it closely beleaguered. He, however, made his way into the\ncitadel, and related his adventures to Angelica, from the time of\nhis departure up to his separation from Rinaldo and the rest, when\nthey departed to the assistance of Charlemagne. Angelica, in\nreturn, described the distresses of the garrison, and the force of\nthe besiegers; and in conclusion prayed Orlando to favor her\nescape from the pressing danger, and escort her into France.\nOrlando, who did not suspect that love for Rinaldo was her secret\nmotive, joyfully agreed to the proposal, and the sally was\nresolved upon.\n\nLeaving lights burning in the fortress, they departed at\nnightfall, and passed in safety through the enemy's camp. After\nencountering numerous adventures they reached the sea-side, and\nembarked on board a pinnace for France. The vessel arrived safely,\nand the travellers, disembarking in Provence, pursued their way by\nland. One day, heated and weary, they sought shelter from the sun\nin the forest of Arden, and chance directed Angelica to the\nfountain of Disdain, of whose waters she eagerly drank.\n\nIssuing thence, the Count and damsel encountered a stranger-\nknight. It was no other than Rinaldo, who was just on the point of\nsetting off on a pilgrimage in search of Angelica, to implore her\npardon for his insensibility, and urge his new found passion.\nSurprise and delight at first deprived him of utterance, but soon\nrecovering himself, he joyfully saluted her, claiming her as his,\nand exhorting her to put herself under his protection. His\npresumption was repelled by Angelica with disdain, and Orlando,\nenraged at the invasion of his rights, challenged him to decide\ntheir claims by arms.\n\nTerrified at the combat which ensued, Angelica fled amain through\nthe forest, and came out upon a plain covered with tents. This was\nthe camp of Charlemagne, who led the army of reserve destined to\nsupport the troops which had advanced to oppose Marsilius. Charles\nhaving heard the damsel's tale, with difficulty separated the two\ncousins, and then consigned Angelica, as the cause of quarrel, to\nthe care of Namo, Duke of Bavaria, promising that she should be\nhis who should best deserve her in the impending battle.\n\nBut these plans and hopes were frustrated. The Christian army,\nbeaten at all points, fled from the Saracens; and Angelica,\nindifferent to both her lovers, mounted a swift palfrey and\nplunged into the forest, rejoicing, in spite of her terror, at\nhaving regained her liberty. She stopped at last in a tufted\ngrove, where a gentle zephyr blew, and whose young trees were\nwatered by two clear runnels, which came and mingled their waters,\nmaking a pleasing murmur. Believing herself far from Rinaldo, and\novercome by fatigue and the summer heat, she saw with delight a\nbank covered with flowers so thick that they almost hid the green\nturf, inviting her to alight and rest. She dismounted from her\npalfrey, and turned him loose to recruit his strength with the\ntender grass which bordered the streamlets. Then, in a sheltered\nnook tapestried with moss and fenced in with roses and hawthorn-\nflowers, she yielded herself to grateful repose.\n\nShe had not slept long when she was awakened by the noise made by\nthe approach of a horse. Starting up, she saw an armed knight who\nhad arrived at the bank of the stream. Not knowing whether he was\nto be feared or not, her heart beat with anxiety. She pressed\naside the leaves to allow her to see who it was, but scarce dared\nto breathe for fear of betraying herself. Soon the knight threw\nhimself on the flowery bank, and leaning his head on his hand fell\ninto a profound reverie. Then arousing himself from his silence he\nbegan to pour forth complaints, mingled with deep sighs. Rivers of\ntears flowed down his cheeks, and his breast seemed to labor with\na hidden flame. \"Ah, vain regrets!\" he exclaimed; \"cruel fortune!\nothers triumph, while I endure hopeless misery! Better a thousand\ntimes to lose life, than wear a chain so disgraceful and so\noppressive!\"\n\nAngelica by this time had recognized the stranger, and perceived\nthat it was Sacripant, king of Circassia, one of the worthiest of\nher suitors. This prince had followed Angelica from his country,\nat the very gates of the day, to France, where he heard with\ndismay that she was under the guardianship of the Paladin Orlando,\nand that the Emperor had announced his decree to award her as the\nprize of valor to that one of his nephews who should best deserve\nher.\n\nAs Sacripant continued to lament, Angelica, who had always opposed\nthe hardness of marble to his sighs, thought with herself that\nnothing forbade her employing his good offices in this unhappy\ncrisis. Though firmly resolved never to accept him as a spouse,\nshe yet felt the necessity of giving him a gleam of hope in reward\nfor the service she required of him. All at once, like Diana, she\nstepped forth from the arbor. \"May the gods preserve thee,\" she\nsaid, \"and put far from thee all hard thoughts of me!\" Then she\ntold him all that had befallen her since she parted with him at\nher father's court, and how she had availed herself of Orlando's\nprotection to escape from the beleaguered city. At that moment the\nnoise of horse and armor was heard as of one approaching; and\nSacripant, furious at the interruption, resumed his helmet,\nmounted his horse, and placed his lance in rest. He saw a knight\nadvancing, with scarf and plume of snowy whiteness. Sacripant\nregarded him with angry eyes, and, while he was yet some distance\noff, defied him to the combat. The other, not moved by his angry\ntone to make reply, put himself on his defence. Their horses,\nstruck at the same moment with the spur, rushed upon one another\nwith the impetuosity of a tempest. Their shields were pierced each\nwith the other's lance, and only the temper of their breastplates\nsaved their lives. Both the horses recoiled with the violence of\nthe shock; but the unknown knight's recovered itself at the touch\nof the spur; the Saracen king's fell dead, and bore down his\nmaster with him. The white knight, seeing his enemy in this\ncondition, cared not to renew the combat, but, thinking he had\ndone enough for glory, pursued his way through the forest, and was\na mile off before Sacripant had got free from his horse.\n\nAs a ploughman, stunned by a thunder-clap which has stricken dead\nthe oxen at his plough, stands motionless, sadly contemplating his\nloss, so Sacripant stood confounded and overwhelmed with\nmortification at having Angelica a witness of his defeat. He\ngroaned, he sighed, less from the pain of his bruises than for the\nshame of being reduced to such a state before her. The princess\ntook pity on him, and consoled him as well as she could. \"Banish\nyour regrets, my lord,\" she said, \"this accident has happened\nsolely in consequence of the feebleness of your horse, which had\nmore need of rest and food than of such an encounter as this. Nor\ncan your adversary gain any credit by it, since he has hurried\naway, not venturing a second trial.\" While she thus consoled\nSacripant they perceived a person approach, who seemed a courier,\nwith bag and horn. As soon as he came up, he accosted Sacripant,\nand inquired if he had seen a knight pass that way, bearing a\nwhite shield and with a white plume to his helmet. \"I have,\nindeed, seen too much of him,\" said Sacripant, \"it is he who has\nbrought me to the ground; but at least I hope to learn from you\nwho that knight is.\" \"That I can easily inform you,\" said the man;\n\"know then that, if you have been overthrown, you owe your fate to\nthe high prowess of a lady as beautiful as she is brave. It is the\nfair and illustrious Bradamante who has won from you the honors of\nvictory.\"\n\nAt these words the courier rode on his way, leaving Sacripant more\nconfounded and mortified than ever. In silence he mounted the\nhorse of Angelica, taking the lady behind him on the croup, and\nrode away in search of a more secure asylum. Hardly had they\nridden two miles when a new sound was heard in the forest, and\nthey perceived a gallant and powerful horse, which, leaping the\nravines and dashing aside the branches that opposed his passage,\nappeared before them, accoutred with a rich harness adorned with\ngold.\n\n\"If I may believe my eyes, which penetrate with difficulty the\nunderwood,\" said Angelica, \"that horse that dashes so stoutly\nthrough the bushes is Bayard, and I marvel how he seems to know\nthe need we have of him, mounted as we are both on one feeble\nanimal.\" Sacripant, dismounting from the palfrey, approached the\nfiery courser, and attempted to seize his bridle, but the\ndisdainful animal, turning from him, launched at him a volley of\nkicks enough to have shattered a wall of marble. Bayard then\napproached Angelica with an air as gentle and loving as a faithful\ndog could his master after a long separation. For he remembered\nhow she had caressed him, and even fed him, in Albracca. She took\nhis bridle in her left hand, while with her right she patted his\nneck. The beautiful animal, gifted with wonderful intelligence,\nseemed to submit entirely. Sacripant, seizing the moment to vault\nupon him, controlled his curvetings, and Angelica, quitting the\ncroup of the palfrey, regained her seat.\n\nBut, turning his eyes toward a place where was heard a noise of\narms, Sacripant beheld Rinaldo. That hero now loves Angelica more\nthan his life, and she flies him as the timid crane the falcon.\n\nThe fountain of which Angelica had drunk produced such an effect\non the beautiful queen that, with distressed countenance and\ntrembling voice, she conjured Sacripant not to wait the approach\nof Rinaldo, but to join her in flight.\n\n\"Am I, then,\" said Sacripant, \"of so little esteem with you that\nyou doubt my power to defend you? Do you forget the battle of\nAlbracca, and how, in your defence, I fought single-handed against\nAgrican and all his knights?\"\n\nAngelica made no reply, uncertain what to do; but already Rinaldo\nwas too near to be escaped. He advanced menacingly to the\nCircassian king, for he recognized his horse.\n\n\"Vile thief,\" he cried, \"dismount from that horse, and prevent the\npunishment that is your due for daring to rob me of my property.\nLeave, also, the princess in my hands; for it would indeed be a\nsin to suffer so charming a lady and so gallant a charger to\nremain in such keeping.\"\n\nThe king of Circassia, furious at being thus insulted, cried out,\n\"Thou liest, villain, in giving me the name of thief, which better\nbelongs to thyself than to me. It is true, the beauty of this lady\nand the perfection of this horse are unequalled; come on, then,\nand let us try which of us is most worthy to possess them.\"\n\nAt these words the king of Circassia and Rinaldo attacked one\nanother with all their force, one fighting on foot, the other on\nhorseback. You need not, however, suppose that the Saracen king\nfound any advantage in this; for a young page, unused to\nhorsemanship, could not have failed more completely to manage\nBayard than did this accomplished knight. The faithful animal\nloved his master too well to injure him, and refused his aid as\nwell as his obedience to the hand of Sacripant, who could strike\nbut ineffectual blows, the horse backing when he wished him to go\nforward, and dropping his head and arching his back, throwing out\nwith his legs, so as almost to shake the knight out of the saddle.\nSacripant, seeing that he could not manage him, watched his\nopportunity, rose on his saddle, and leapt lightly to the earth;\nthen, relieved from the embarrassment of the horse, renewed the\ncombat on more equal terms. Their skill to thrust and parry were\nequal; one rises, the other stoops; with one foot set firm they\nturn and wind, to lay on strokes or to dodge them. At last\nRinaldo, throwing himself on the Circassian, dealt him a blow so\nterrible that Fusberta, his good sword, cut in two the buckler of\nSacripant, although it was made of bone, and covered with a thick\nplate of steel well tempered. The arm of the Saracen was deprived\nof its defence, and almost palsied with the stroke. Angelica,\nperceiving how victory was likely to incline, and shuddering at\nthe thought of becoming the prize of Rinaldo, hesitated no longer.\nTurning her horse's head, she fled with the utmost speed; and, in\nspite of the round pebbles which covered a steep descent, she\nplunged into a deep valley, trembling with the fear that Rinaldo\nwas in pursuit. At the bottom of this valley she encountered an\naged hermit, whose white beard flowed to his middle, and whose\nvenerable appearance seemed to assure his piety.\n\nThis hermit, who appeared shrunk by age and fasting, travelled\nslowly, mounted upon a wretched ass. The princess, overcome with\nfear, conjured him to save her life; and to conduct her to some\nport of the sea, whence she might embark and quit France, never\nmore to hear the odious name of Rinaldo.\n\nThe old hermit was something of a wizard. He comforted Angelica,\nand promised to protect her from all peril. Then he opened his\nscrip, and took from thence a book, and had read but a single page\nwhen a goblin, obedient to his incantations, appeared, under the\nform of a laboring man, and demanded his orders. He received them,\ntransported himself to the place where the knights still\nmaintained their conflict, and boldly stepped between the two.\n\n\"Tell me, I pray you,\" he said, \"what benefit will accrue to him\nwho shall get the better in this contest? The object you are\ncontending for is already disposed of; for the Paladin Orlando,\nwithout effort and without opposition, is now carrying away the\nprincess Angelica to Paris. You had better pursue them promptly;\nfor if they reach Paris you will never see her again.\"\n\nAt these words you might have seen those rival warriors\nconfounded, stupefied, silently agreeing that they were affording\ntheir rival a fair opportunity to triumph over them. Rinaldo,\napproaching Bayard, breathes a sigh of shame and rage, and swears\na terrible oath that, if he overtakes Orlando, he will tear his\nheart out. Then mounting Bayard and pressing his flanks with his\nspurs, he leaves the king of Circassia on foot in the forest.\n\nLet it not appear strange that Rinaldo found Bayard obedient at\nlast, after having so long prevented any one from even touching\nhis bridle; for that fine animal had an intelligence almost human;\nhe had fled from his master only to draw him on the track of\nAngelica, and enable him to recover her. He saw when the princess\nfled from the battle, and Rinaldo being then engaged in a fight on\nfoot, Bayard found himself free to follow the traces of Angelica.\nThus he had drawn his master after him, not permitting him to\napproach, and had brought him to the sight of the princess. But\nBayard now, deceived like his master with the false intelligence\nof the goblin, submits to be mounted and to serve his master as\nusual, and Rinaldo, animated with rage, makes him fly toward\nParis, more slowly than his wishes, though the speed of Bayard\noutstripped the winds. Full of impatience to encounter Orlando, he\ngave but a few hours that night to sleep. Early the next day he\nsaw before him the great city, under the walls of which the\nEmperor Charles had collected the scattered remains of his army.\nForeseeing that he would soon be attacked on all sides, the\nEmperor had caused the ancient fortifications to be repaired, and\nnew ones to be built, surrounded by wide and deep ditches. The\ndesire to hold the field against the enemy made him seize every\nmeans of procuring new allies. He hoped to receive from England\naid sufficient to enable him to form a new camp, and as soon as\nRinaldo rejoined him he selected him to go as his ambassador into\nEngland, to plead for auxiliaries. Rinaldo was far from pleased\nwith his commission, but he obeyed the Emperor's commands, without\ngiving himself time to devote a single day to the object nearest\nhis heart. He hastened to Calais, and lost not a moment in\nembarking for England, ardently desiring a hasty despatch of his\ncommission, and a speedy return to France.\n\nBRADAMANTE AND ROGERO\n\nBradamante, the knight of the white plume and shield, whose\nsudden appearance and encounter with Sacripant we have already\ntold, was in quest of Rogero, from whom chance had separated her,\nalmost at the beginning of their acquaintance. After her encounter\nwith Sacripant Bradamante pursued her way through the forest, in\nhopes of rejoining Rogero, and arrived at last on the brink of a\nfair fountain.\n\nThis fountain flowed through a broad meadow. Ancient trees\novershadowed it, and travellers, attracted by the sweet murmur of\nits waters, stopped there to cool themselves. Bradamante, casting\nher eyes on all sides to enjoy the beauties of the spot,\nperceived, under the shade of a tree, a knight reclining, who\nseemed to be oppressed with the deepest grief\n\nBradamante accosted him, and asked to be informed of the cause of\nhis distress. \"Alas! my lord,\" said he, \"I lament a young and\ncharming friend, my affianced wife, who has been torn from me by a\nvillain,--let me rather call him a demon,--who, on a winged horse,\ndescended from the air, seized her, and bore her screaming to his\nden. I have pursued them over rocks and through ravines till my\nhorse is no longer able to bear me, and I now wait only for\ndeath.\" He added that already a vain attempt on his behalf had\nbeen made by two knights, whom chance had brought to the spot.\nTheir names were Gradasso, king of Sericane, and Rogero, the Moor.\nBoth had been overcome by the wiles of the enchanter, and were\nadded to the number of the captives, whom he held in an\nimpregnable castle, situated on the height of the mountain. At the\nmention of Rogero's name Bradamante started with delight, which\nwas soon changed to an opposite sentiment when she heard that her\nlover was a prisoner in the toils of the enchanter. \"Sir Knight,\"\nshe said, \"do not surrender yourself to despair; this day may be\nmore happy for you than you think, if you will only lead me to the\ncastle which enfolds her whom you deplore.\"\n\nThe knight responded, \"After having lost all that made life dear\nto me I have no motive to avoid the dangers of the enterprise, and\nI will do as you request; but I forewarn you of the perils you\nwill have to encounter. If you fall impute it not to me.\"\n\nHaving thus spoken, they took their way to the castle, but were\novertaken by a messenger from the camp, who had been sent in quest\nof Bradamante to summon her back to the army, where her presence\nwas needed to reassure her disheartened forces, and withstand the\nadvance of the Moors.\n\nThe mournful knight, whose name was Pinabel, thus became aware\nthat Bradamante was a scion of the house of Clermont, between\nwhich and his own of Mayence there existed an ancient feud. From\nthis moment the traitor sought only how he might be rid of the\ncompany of Bradamante, from whom he feared no good would come to\nhim, but rather mortal injury, if his name and lineage became\nknown to her. For he judged her by his own base model, and,\nknowing his ill deserts, he feared to receive his due.\n\nBradamante, in spite of the summons to return to the army, could\nnot resolve to leave her lover in captivity, and determined first\nto finish the adventure on which she was engaged. Pinabel leading\nthe way, they at length arrived at a wood, in the centre of which\nrose a steep, rocky mountain. Pinabel, who now thought of nothing\nelse but how he might escape from Bradamante, proposed to ascend\nthe mountain to extend his view, in order to discover a shelter\nfor the night, if any there might be within sight. Under this\npretence he left Bradamante, and advanced up the side of the\nmountain till he came to a cleft in the rock, down which he\nlooked, and perceived that it widened below into a spacious\ncavern. Meanwhile Bradamante, fearful of losing her guide, had\nfollowed close on his footsteps, and rejoined him at the mouth of\nthe cavern. Then the traitor, seeing the impossibility of escaping\nher, conceived another design. He told her that before her\napproach he had seen in the cavern a young and beautiful damsel,\nwhose rich dress announced her high birth, who with tears and\nlamentations implored assistance; that before he could descend to\nrelieve her a ruffian had seized her, and hurried her away into\nthe recesses of the cavern.\n\nBradamante, full of truth and courage, readily believed this lie\nof the Mayencian traitor. Eager to succor the damsel, she looked\nround for the means of facilitating the descent, and seeing a\nlarge elm with spreading branches she lopped off with her sword\none of the largest, and thrust it into the opening. She told\nPinabel to hold fast to the larger end, while, grasping the\nbranches with her hands, she let herself down into the cavern.\n\nThe traitor smiled at seeing her thus suspended, and, asking her\nin mockery, \"Are you a good leaper?\" he let go the branch with\nperfidious glee, and saw Bradamante precipitated to the bottom of\nthe cave. \"I wish your whole race were there with you,\" he\nmuttered, \"that you might all perish together.\"\n\nBut Pinabel's atrocious design was not accomplished. The twigs and\nfoliage of the branch broke its descent, and Bradamante, not\nseriously injured, though stunned with her fall, was reserved for\nother adventures.\n\nAs soon as she recovered from the shock Bradamante cast her eyes\naround and perceived a door, through which she passed into a\nsecond cavern, larger and loftier than the first. It had the\nappearance of a subterranean temple. Columns of the purest\nalabaster adorned it, and supported the roof; a simple altar rose\nin the middle; a lamp, whose radiance was reflected by the\nalabaster walls, cast a mild light around.\n\nBradamante, inspired by a sense of religious awe, approached the\naltar, and, falling on her knees, poured forth her prayers and\nthanks to the Preserver of her life, invoking the protection of\nhis power. At that moment a small door opened, and a female issued\nfrom it with naked feet, and flowing robe and hair, who called her\nby her name, and thus addressed her: \"Brave and generous\nBradamante, know that it is a power from above that has brought\nyou hither. The spirit of Merlin, whose last earthly abode was in\nthis place, has warned me of your arrival, and of the fate that\nawaits you. This famous grotto,\" she continued, \"was the work of\nthe enchanter Merlin; here his ashes repose. You have no doubt\nheard how this sage and virtuous enchanter ceased to be. Victim of\nthe artful fairy of the lake, Merlin, by a fatal compliance with\nher request, laid himself down living in his tomb, without power\nto resist the spell laid upon him by that ingrate, who retained\nhim there as long as he lived. His spirit hovers about this spot,\nand will not leave it, until the last trumpet shall summon the\ndead to judgment. He answers the questions of those who approach\nhis tomb, where perhaps you may be privileged to hear his voice.\"\n\nBradamante, astonished at these words, and the objects which met\nher view, knew not whether she was awake or asleep. Confused, but\nmodest, she cast down her eyes, and a blush overspread her face.\n\"Ah, what am I,\" said she, \"that so great a prophet should deign\nto speak to me!\" Still, with a secret satisfaction, she followed\nthe priestess, who led her to the tomb of Merlin. This tomb was\nconstructed of a species of stone hard and resplendent like fire.\nThe rays which beamed from the stone sufficed to light up that\nterrible place, where the sun's rays never penetrated; but I know\nnot whether that light was the effect of a certain phosphorescence\nof the stone itself, or of the many talismans and charms with\nwhich it was wrought over.\n\nBradamante had hardly passed the threshold of this sacred place\nwhen the spirit of the enchanter saluted her with a voice firm and\ndistinct: \"May thy designs be prosperous, O chaste and noble\nmaiden, the future mother of heroes, the glory of Italy, and\ndestined to fill the whole world with their fame. Great captains,\nrenowned knights, shall be numbered among your descendants, who\nshall defend the Church and restore their country to its ancient\nsplendor. Princes, wise as Augustus and the sage Numa, shall bring\nback the age of gold. [Footnote: This prophecy is introduced by\nAriosto in this place to compliment the noble house of Este, the\nprinces of his native state, the dukedom of Ferrara.] To\naccomplish these grand destinies it is ordained that you shall wed\nthe illustrious Rogero. Fly then to his deliverance, and lay\nprostrate in the dust the traitor who has snatched him from you,\nand now holds him in chains!\"\n\nMerlin ceased with these words, and left to Melissa, the\npriestess, the charge of more fully instructing the maiden in her\nfuture course. \"To-morrow,\" said she, \"I will conduct you to the\ncastle on the rock where Rogero is held captive. I will not leave\nyou till I have guided you through this wild wood, and I will\ndirect you on your way so that you shall be in no danger of\nmistaking it.\"\n\nThe next morning Melissa conducted Bradamante between rocks and\nprecipices, crossing rapid torrents, and traversing intricate\npasses, employing the time in imparting to her such information as\nwas necessary to enable her to bring her design to a successful\nissue.\n\n\"Not only would the castle, impenetrable by force, and that winged\nhorse of his baffle your efforts, but know that he possesses also\na buckler whence flashes a light so brilliant that the eyes of all\nwho look upon it are blinded. Think not to avoid it by shutting\nyour eyes, for how then will you be able to avoid his blows, and\nmake him feel your own? But I will teach you the proper course to\npursue.\n\n\"Agramant, the Moorish prince, possesses a ring stolen from a\nqueen of India, which has power to render of no avail all\nenchantments. Agramant, knowing that Rogero is of more importance\nto him than any one of his warriors, is desirous of rescuing him\nfrom the power of the enchanter, and has sent for that purpose\nBrunello, the most crafty and sagacious of his servants, provided\nwith his wonderful ring, and he is even now at hand, bent on this\nenterprise. But, beautiful Bradamante, as I desire that no one but\nyourself shall have the glory of delivering from thraldom your\nfuture spouse, listen while I disclose the means of success.\nFollowing this path which leads by the seashore, you will come ere\nlong to a hostelry, where the Saracen Brunello will arrive shortly\nbefore you. You will readily know him by his stature, under four\nfeet, his great disproportioned head, his squint eyes, his livid\nhue, his thick eyebrows joining his tufted beard. His dress,\nmoreover, that of a courier, will point him out to you.\n\n\"It will be easy for you to enter into conversation with him,\nannouncing yourself as a knight seeking combat with the enchanter,\nbut let not the knave suspect that you know anything about the\nring. I doubt not that he will be your guide to the castle of the\nenchanter. Accept his offer, but take care to keep behind him till\nyou come in sight of the brilliant dome of the castle. Then\nhesitate not to strike him dead, for the wretch deserves no pity,\nand take from him the ring. But let him not suspect your\nintention, for by putting the ring into his mouth he will\ninstantly become invisible, and disappear from your eyes.\"\n\nSaying thus, the sage Melissa and the fair Bradamante arrived near\nthe city of Bordeaux, where the rich and wide river Garonne pours\nthe tribute of its waves into the sea. They parted with tender\nembraces. Bradamante, intent wholly on her purpose, hastened to\narrive at the hostelry, where Brunello had preceded her a few\nmoments only. The young heroine knew him without difficulty. She\naccosted him, and put to him some slight questions, to which he\nreplied with adroit falsehoods. Bradamante, on her part, concealed\nfrom him her sex, her religion, her country, and the blood from\nwhence she sprung. While they talk together, sudden cries are\nheard from all parts of the hostelry. \"O queen of heaven!\"\nexclaimed Bradamante, \"what can be the cause of this sudden\nalarm?\" She soon learned the cause. Host, children, domestics,\nall, with upturned eyes, as if they saw a comet or a great\neclipse, were gazing on a prodigy which seemed to pass the bounds\nof possibility. She beheld distinctly a winged horse, mounted with\na cavalier in rich armor, cleaving the air with rapid flight. The\nwings of this strange courser were wide extended, and covered with\nfeathers of various colors. The polished armor of the knight made\nthem shine with rainbow tints. In a short time the horse and rider\ndisappeared behind the summits of the mountains.\n\n\"It is an enchanter,\" said the host, \"a magician who often is seen\ntraversing the air in that way. Sometimes he flies aloft as if\namong the stars, and at others skims along the land. He possesses\na wonderful castle on the top of the Pyrenees. Many knights have\nshown their courage by going to attack him, but none have ever\nreturned, from which it is to be feared they have lost either\ntheir life or their liberty.\"\n\nBradamante, addressing the host, said, \"Could you furnish me a\nguide to conduct me to the castle of this enchanter?\" \"By my\nfaith,\" said Brunello, interrupting, \"that you shall not seek in\nvain; I have it all in writing, and I will myself conduct you.\"\nBradamante, with thanks, accepted him for her guide.\n\nThe host had a tolerable horse to dispose of, which Bradamante\nbargained for, and the next day, at the first dawn of morning, she\ntook her route by a narrow valley, taking care to have the Saracen\nBrunello lead the way.\n\nThey reached the summit of the Pyrenees, whence one may look down\non France, Spain, and the two seas. From this height they\ndescended again by a fatiguing road into a deep valley. From the\nmiddle of this valley an isolated mountain rose, composed of rough\nand perpendicular rock, on whose summit was the castle, surrounded\nwith a wall of brass. Brunello said, \"Yonder is the stronghold\nwhere the enchanter keeps his prisoners; one must have wings to\nmount thither; it is easy to see that the aid of a flying horse\nmust be necessary for the master of this castle, which he uses for\nhis prison and for his abode.\"\n\nBradamante, sufficiently instructed, saw that the time had now\ncome to possess herself of the ring; but she could not resolve to\nslay a defenceless man. She seized Brunello before he was aware,\nbound him to a tree, and took from him the ring which he wore on\none of his fingers. The cries and entreaties of the perfidious\nSaracen moved her not. She advanced to the foot of the rock\nwhereon the castle stood, and, to draw the magician to the combat,\nsounded her horn, adding to it cries of defiance.\n\nThe enchanter delayed not to present himself, mounted on his\nwinged horse. Bradamante was struck with surprise mixed with joy\nwhen she saw that this person, described as so formidable, bore no\nlance nor club, nor any other deadly weapon. He had only on his\narm a buckler, covered with a cloth, and in his hand an open book.\nAs to the winged horse, there was no enchantment about him. He was\na natural animal, of a species which exists in the Riphaean\nmountains. Like a griffin, he had the head of an eagle, claws\narmed with talons, and wings covered with feathers, the rest of\nhis body being that of a horse. This strange animal is called a\nHippogriff.\n\nThe heroine attacked the enchanter on his approach, striking on\nthis side and on that, with all the energy of a violent combat,\nbut wounding only the wind; and after this pretended attack had\nlasted some time dismounted from her horse, as if hoping to do\nbattle more effectually on foot. The enchanter now prepares to\nemploy his sole weapon, by uncovering the magic buckler which\nnever failed to subdue an enemy by depriving him of his senses.\nBradamante, confiding in her ring, observed all the motions of her\nadversary, and, at the unveiling of the shield, cast herself on\nthe ground, pretending that the splendor of the shield had\novercome her, but in reality to induce the enchanter to dismount\nand approach her.\n\nIt happened according to her wish. When the enchanter saw her\nprostrate he made his horse alight on the ground, and,\ndismounting, fixed the shield on the pommel of his saddle, and\napproached in order to secure the fallen warrior. Bradamante, who\nwatched him intently, as soon as she saw him near at hand, sprang\nup, seized him vigorously, threw him down, and, with the same\nchain which the enchanter had prepared for herself, bound him\nfast, without his being able to make any effectual resistance.\n\nThe enchanter, with the accents of despair, exclaimed, \"Take my\nlife, young man!\" but Bradamante was far from complying with such\na wish. Desirous of knowing the name of the enchanter, and for\nwhat purpose he had formed with so much art this impregnable\nfortress, she commanded him to inform her.\n\n\"Alas!\" replied the magician, while tears flowed down his cheeks,\n\"it is not to conceal booty, nor for any culpable design that I\nhave built this castle; it was only to guard the life of a young\nknight, the object of my tenderest affection, my art having taught\nme that he is destined to become a Christian, and to perish,\nshortly after, by the blackest of treasons.\n\n\"This youth, named Rogero, is the most beautiful and most\naccomplished of knights. It is I, the unhappy Atlantes, who have\nreared him from his childhood. The call of honor and the desire of\nglory led him from me to follow Agramant, his prince, in his\ninvasion of France, and I, more devoted to Rogero than the\ntenderest of parents, have sought the means of bringing him back\nto this abode, in the hope of saving him from the cruel fate that\nmenaces him.\n\n\"For this purpose I have got him in my possession by the same\nmeans as I attempted to employ against you; and by which I have\nsucceeded in collecting a great many knights and ladies in my\ncastle. My purpose was to render my beloved pupil's captivity\nlight, by affording him society to amuse him, and keep his\nthoughts from running on subjects of war and glory. Alas! my cares\nhave been in vain! Yet, take, I beseech you, whatever else I have,\nbut spare me my beloved pupil. Take this shield, take this winged\ncourser, deliver such of your friends as you may find among my\nprisoners, deliver them all if you will, but leave me my beloved\nRogero; or if you will snatch him too from me, take also my life,\nwhich will cease then to be to me worth preserving.\"\n\nBradamante replied: \"Old man, hope not to move me by your vain\nentreaties. It is precisely the liberty of Rogero that I require.\nYou would keep him here in bondage and in slothful pleasure, to\nsave him from a fate which you foresee. Vain old man! how can you\nforesee his fate when you could not foresee your own? You desire\nme to take your life. No, my aim and my soul refuse the request.\"\nThis said, she required the magician to go before, and guide her\nto the castle. The prisoners were set at liberty, though some, in\ntheir secret hearts, regretted the voluptuous life which was thus\nbrought to an end. Bradamante and Rogero met one another with\ntransports of joy.\n\nThey descended from the mountain to the spot where the encounter\nhad taken place. There they found the Hippogriff, with the magic\nbuckler in its wrapper, hanging to his saddle-bow. Bradamante\nadvanced to seize the bridle; the Hippogriff seemed to wait her\napproach, but before she reached him he spread his wings and flew\naway to a neighboring hill, and in the same manner, a second time,\neluded her efforts. Rogero and the other liberated knights\ndispersed over the plain and hilltops to secure him, and at last\nthe animal allowed Rogero to seize his rein. The fearless Rogero\nhesitated not to vault upon his back, and let him feel his spurs,\nwhich so roused his mettle that, after galloping a short distance,\nhe suddenly spread his wings, and soared into the air. Bradamante\nhad the grief to see her lover snatched away from her at the very\nmoment of reunion. Rogero, who knew not the art of directing the\nhorse, was unable to control his flight. He found himself carried\nover the tops of the mountains, so far above them that he could\nhardly distinguish what was land and what water. The Hippogriff\ndirected his flight to the west, and cleaved the air as swiftly as\na new-rigged vessel cuts the waves, impelled by the freshest and\nmost favorable gales.\n\nASTOLPHO AND THE ENCHANTRESS\n\nIn the long flight which Rogero took on the back of the Hippogriff\nhe was carried over land and sea, unknowing whither. As soon as he\nhad gained some control over the animal he made him alight on the\nnearest land. When he came near enough to earth Rogero leapt\nlightly from his back, and tied the animal to a myrtle-tree. Near\nthe spot flowed the pure waters of a fountain, surrounded by\ncedars and palm-trees. Rogero laid aside his shield, and, removing\nhis helmet, breathed with delight the fresh air, and cooled his\nlips with the waters of the fountain. For we cannot wonder that he\nwas excessively fatigued, considering the ride he had taken. He\nwas preparing to taste the sweets of repose when he perceived that\nthe Hippogriff, which he had tied by the bridle to a myrtle-tree,\nfrightened at something, was making violent efforts to disengage\nhimself. His struggle shook the myrtle-tree so that many of its\nbeautiful leaves were torn off, and strewed the ground.\n\nA sound like that which issues from burning wood seemed to come\nfrom the myrtle-tree, at first faint and indistinct, but growing\nstronger by degrees, and at length was audible as a voice which\nspoke in this manner: \"O knight, if the tenderness of your heart\ncorresponds to the beauty of your person, relieve me, I pray you,\nfrom this tormenting animal. I suffer enough inwardly without\nhaving outward evils added to my lot.\"\n\nRogero, at the first accents of this voice, turned his eyes\npromptly on the myrtle, hastened to it, and stood fixed in\nastonishment when he perceived that the voice issued from the tree\nitself. He immediately untied his horse, and, flushed with\nsurprise and regret, exclaimed, \"Whoever thou art, whether mortal\nor the goddess of these woods, forgive me, I beseech you, my\ninvoluntary fault. Had I imagined that this hard bark covered a\nbeing possessed of feeling, could I have exposed such a beautiful\nmyrtle to the insults of this steed? May the sweet influences of\nthe sky and air speedily repair the injury I have done! For my\npart, I promise by the sovereign lady of my heart to do everything\nyou wish in order to merit your forgiveness.\"\n\nAt these words the myrtle seemed to tremble from root to stem, and\nRogero remarked that a moisture as of tears trickled down its\nbark, like that which exudes from a log placed on the fire. It\nthen spoke:\n\n\"The kindness which inspires your words compels me to disclose to\nyou who I once was, and by what fatality I have been changed into\nthis shape. My name was Astolpho, cousin of Orlando and Rinaldo,\nwhose fame has filled the earth. I was myself reckoned among the\nbravest paladins of France, and was by birth entitled to reign\nover England, after Otho, my father. Returning from the distant\nEast, with Rinaldo and many other brave knights, called home to\naid with our arms the great Emperor of France, we reached a spot\nwhere the powerful enchantress Alcina possessed a castle on the\nborders of the sea. She had gone to the water-side to amuse\nherself with fishing, and we paused to see how, by her art,\nwithout hook or line, she drew from the water whatever she would.\n\n\"Not far from the shore an enormous whale showed a back so broad\nand motionless that it looked like an island. Alcina had fixed her\neyes on me, and planned to get me into her power. Addressing us,\nshe said: 'This is the hour when the prettiest mermaid in the sea\ncomes regularly every day to the shore of yonder island. She sings\nso sweetly that the very waves flow smoother at the sound. If you\nwish to hear her come with me to her resort.' So saying, Alcina\npointed to the fish, which we all supposed to be an island. I, who\nwas rash, did not hesitate to follow her; but swam my horse over,\nand mounted on the back of the fish. In vain Rinaldo and Dudon\nmade signs to me to beware; Alcina, smiling, took me in charge,\nand led the way. No sooner were we mounted upon him than the whale\nmoved off, spreading his great fins, and cleft rapidly the waters.\nI then saw my folly, but it was too late to repent. Alcina soothed\nmy anger, and professed that what she had done was for love of me.\nEre long we arrived at this island, where at first everything was\ndone to reconcile me to my lot, and to make my days pass happily\naway. But soon Alcina, sated with her conquest, grew indifferent,\nthen weary of me, and at last, to get rid of me, changed me into\nthis form, as she had done to many lovers before me, making some\nof them olives, some palms, some cedars, changing others into\nfountains, rocks, or even into wild beasts. And thou, courteous\nknight, whom accident has brought to this enchanted isle, beware\nthat she get not the power over thee, or thou shalt haply be made\nlike us, a tree, a fountain, or a rock.\"\n\nRogero expressed his astonishment at this recital. Astolpho added\nthat the island was in great part subject to the sway of Alcina.\nBy the aid of her sister Morgana, she had succeeded in\ndispossessing a third sister, Logestilla, of nearly the whole of\nher patrimony, for the whole isle was hers originally by her\nfather's bequest. But Logestilla was temperate and sage, while the\nother sisters were false and voluptuous. Her empire was divided\nfrom theirs by a gulf and chain of mountains, which alone had thus\nfar prevented her sister from usurping it.\n\nAstolpho here ended his tale, and Rogero, who knew that he was the\ncousin of Bradamante, would gladly have devised some way for his\nrelief; but, as that was out of his power, he consoled him as well\nas he could, and then begged to be told the way to the palace of\nLogestilla, and how to avoid that of Alcina. Astolpho directed him\nto take the road to the left, though rough and full of rocks. He\nwarned him that this road would present serious obstacles; that\ntroops of monsters would oppose his passage, employed by the art\nof Alcina to prevent her subjects from escaping from her dominion.\nRogero thanked the myrtle, and prepared to set out on his way.\n\nHe at first thought he would mount the winged horse, and scale the\nmountain on his back; but he was too uncertain of his power to\ncontrol him to wish to encounter the hazard of another flight\nthrough the air, besides that he was almost famished for the want\nof food. So he led the horse after him, and took the road on foot,\nwhich for some distance led equally to the dominions of both the\nsisters.\n\nHe had not advanced more than two miles when he saw before him the\nsuperb city of Alcina. It was surrounded with a wall of gold,\nwhich seemed to reach the skies. I know that some think that this\nwall was not of real gold, but only the work of alchemy; it\nmatters not; I prefer to think it gold, for it certainly shone\nlike gold.\n\nA broad and level road led to the gates of the city, and from this\nanother branched off, narrow and rough, which led to the mountain\nregion. Rogero took without hesitation the narrow road; but he had\nno sooner entered upon it than he was assailed by a numerous troop\nwhich opposed his passage.\n\nYou never have seen anything so ridiculous, so extraordinary, as\nthis host of hobgoblins were. Some of them bore the human form\nfrom the neck to the feet, but had the head of a monkey or a cat;\nothers had the legs and the ears of a horse; old men and women,\nbald and hideous, ran hither and thither as if out of their\nsenses, half clad in the shaggy skins of beasts; one rode full\nspeed on a horse without a bridle, another jogged along mounted on\nan ass or a cow; others, full of agility, skipped about, and clung\nto the tails and manes of the animals which their companions rode.\nSome blew horns, others brandished drinking-cups; some were armed\nwith spits, and some with pitchforks. One, who appeared to be the\ncaptain, had an enormous belly and a gross fat head; he was\nmounted on a tortoise, that waddled, now this way, now that,\nwithout keeping any one direction.\n\nOne of these monsters, who had something approaching the human\nform, though he had the neck, ears, and muzzle of a dog, set\nhimself to bark furiously at Rogero, to make him turn off to the\nright, and reenter upon the road to the gay city; but the brave\nchevalier exclaimed, \"That will I not, so long as I can use this\nsword,\"--and he thrust the point directly at his face. The monster\ntried to strike him with a lance, but Rogero was too quick for\nhim, and thrust his sword through his body, so that it appeared a\nhand's breadth behind his back. The paladin, now giving full vent\nto his rage, laid about him vigorously among the rabble, cleaving\none to the teeth, another to the girdle; but the troop were so\nnumerous, and in spite of his blows pressed around him so close,\nthat, to clear his way, he must have had as many arms as Briareus.\n\nIf Rogero had uncovered the shield of the enchanter, which hung at\nhis saddle-bow, he might easily have vanquished this monstrous\nrout; but perhaps he did not think of it, and perhaps he preferred\nto seek his defence nowhere but in his good sword. At that moment,\nwhen his perplexity was at its height, he saw issue from the city\ngate two young beauties, whose air and dress proclaimed their rank\nand gentle nurture. Each of them was mounted on a unicorn, whose\nwhiteness surpassed that of ermine. They advanced to the meadow\nwhere Rogero was contending so valiantly against the hobgoblins,\nwho all retired at their approach. They drew near, they extended\ntheir hands to the young warrior, whose cheeks glowed with the\nflush of exercise and modesty. Grateful for their assistance, he\nexpressed his thanks, and, having no heart to refuse them,\nfollowed their guidance to the gate of the city.\n\nThis grand and beautiful entrance was adorned by a portico of four\nvast columns, all of diamond. Whether they were real diamond or\nartificial I cannot say. What matter is it, so long as they\nappeared to the eye like diamond, and nothing could be more gay\nand splendid.\n\nOn the threshold, and between the columns, was seen a bevy of\ncharming young women, who played and frolicked together. They all\nran to receive Rogero, and conducted him into the palace, which\nappeared like a paradise.\n\nWe might well call by that name this abode, where the hours flew\nby, without account, in ever-new delights. The bare idea of\nsatiety, want, and, above all, of age, never entered the minds of\nthe inhabitants. They experienced no sensations except those of\nluxury and gayety; the cup of happiness seemed for them ever-\nflowing and exhaustless. The two young damsels to whom Rogero owed\nhis deliverance from the hobgoblins conducted him to the apartment\nof their mistress. The beautiful Alcina advanced, and greeted him\nwith an air at once dignified and courteous. All her court\nsurrounded the paladin, and rendered him the most flattering\nattentions. The castle was less admirable for its magnificence\nthan for the charms of those who inhabited it. They were of either\nsex, well matched in beauty, youth, and grace; but among this\ncharming group the brilliant Alcina shone, as the sun outshines\nthe stars. The young warrior was fascinated. All that he had heard\nfrom the myrtle-tree appeared to him but a vile calumny. How could\nhe suspect that falsehood and treason veiled themselves under\nsmiles and the ingenuous air of truth? He doubted not that\nAstolpho had deserved his fate, and perhaps a punishment more\nsevere; he regarded all his stories as dictated by a disappointed\nspirit, and a thirst for revenge. But we must not condemn Rogero\ntoo harshly, for he was the victim of magic power.\n\nThey seated themselves at table, and immediately harmonious lyres\nand harps waked the air with the most ravishing notes. The charms\nof poetry were added in entertaining recitals; the magnificence of\nthe feast would have done credit to a royal board. The traitress\nforgot nothing which might charm the paladin, and attach him to\nthe spot, meaning, when she should grow tired of him, to\nmetamorphose him as she had done others. In the same manner passed\neach succeeding day. Games of pleasant exercise, the chase, the\ndance, or rural sports, made the hours pass quickly; while they\ngave zest to the refreshment of the bath, or sleep.\n\nThus Rogero led a life of ease and luxury, while Charlemagne and\nAgramant were struggling for empire. But I cannot linger with him\nwhile the amiable and courageous Bradamante is night and day\ndirecting her uncertain steps to every spot where the slightest\nchance invites her, in the hope of recovering Rogero.\n\nI will therefore say that, having sought him in vain in fields and\nin cities, she knew not whither next to direct her steps. She did\nnot apprehend the death of Rogero. The fall of such a hero would\nhave reechoed from the Hydaspes to the farthest river of the West;\nbut, not knowing whether he was on the earth or in the air, she\nconcluded, as a last resource, to return to the cavern which\ncontained the tomb of Merlin, to ask of him some sure direction to\nthe object of her search.\n\nWhile this thought occupied her mind, Melissa, the sage\nenchantress, suddenly appeared before her. This virtuous and\nbeneficent magician had discovered by her spells that Rogero was\npassing his time in pleasure and idleness, forgetful of his honor\nand his sovereign. Not able to endure the thought that one who was\nborn to be a hero should waste his years in base repose, and leave\na sullied reputation in the memory of survivors, she saw that\nvigorous measures must be employed to draw him forth into the\npaths of virtue. Melissa was not blinded by her affection for the\namiable paladin, like Atlantes, who, intent only on preserving\nRogero's life, cared nothing for his fame. It was that old\nenchanter whose arts had guided the Hippogriff to the isle of the\ntoo charming Alcina, where he hoped his favorite would learn to\nforget honor, and lose the love of glory.\n\nAt the sight of Melissa joy lighted up the countenance of\nBradamante, and hope animated her breast. Melissa concealed\nnothing from her, but told her how Rogero was in the toils of\nAlcina. Bradamante was plunged in grief and terror; but the kind\nenchantress calmed her, dispelled her fears, and promised that\nbefore many days she would lead back the paladin to her feet.\n\n\"My daughter,\" she said, \"give me the ring which you wear, and\nwhich possesses the power to overcome enchantments. By means of it\nI doubt not but that I may enter the stronghold where the false\nAlcina holds Rogero in durance, and may succeed in vanquishing her\nand liberating him.\" Bradamante unhesitatingly delivered her the\nring, recommending Rogero to her best efforts. Melissa then\nsummoned by her art a huge palfrey, black as jet, excepting one\nfoot, which was bay. Mounted upon this animal, she rode with such\nspeed that by the next morning she had reached the abode of\nAlcina.\n\nShe here transformed herself into the perfect resemblance of the\nold magician Atlantes, adding a palm-breadth to her height, and\nenlarging her whole figure. Her chin she covered with a long\nbeard, and seamed her whole visage well with wrinkles. She assumed\nalso his voice and manner, and watched her chance to find Rogero\nalone. At last she found him, dressed in a rich tunic of silk and\ngold, a collar of precious stones about his neck, and his arms,\nonce so rough with exercise, decorated with bracelets. His air and\nhis every motion indicated effeminacy, and he seemed to retain\nnothing of Rogero but the name; such power had the enchantress\nobtained over him.\n\nMelissa, under the form of his old instructor, presented herself\nbefore him, wearing a stern and serious visage. \"Is this, then,\"\nshe said, \"the fruit of all my labors? Is it for this that I fed\nyou on the marrow of bears and lions, that I taught you to subdue\ndragons, and, like Hercules, strangle serpents in your youthful\ngrasp, only to make you, by all my cares, a feeble Adonis? My\nnightly watchings of the stars, of the yet warm fibres of animals,\nthe lots I have cast, the points of nativity that I have\ncalculated, have they all falsely indicated that you were born for\ngreatness? Who could have believed that you would become the slave\nof a base enchantress? O Rogero, learn to know this Alcina, learn\nto understand her arts and to countervail them. Take this ring,\nplace it on your finger, return to her presence, and see for\nyourself what are her real charms.\"\n\nAt these words, Rogero, confused, abashed, cast his eyes upon the\nground, and knew not what to answer. Melissa seized the moment,\nslipped the ring on his finger, and the paladin was himself again.\nWhat a thunderclap to him! Overcome by shame, he dared not to\nencounter the looks of his instructor. When at last he raised his\neyes he beheld not that venerable form, but the priestess Melissa,\nwho in virtue of the ring now appeared in her true person. She\ntold him of the motives which had led her to come to his rescue,\nof the griefs and regrets of Bradamante, and of her unwearied\nsearch for him. \"That charming Amazon,\" she said, \"sends you this\nring, which is a sovereign antidote to all enchantments. She would\nhave sent you her heart in my hands, if it would have had greater\npower to serve you.\"\n\nIt was needless for Melissa to say more. Rogero's love for Alcina,\nbeing but the work of enchantment, vanished as soon as the\nenchantment was withdrawn, and he now hated her with an equal\nintensity, seeing no longer anything in her but her vices, and\nfeeling only resentment for the shame that she had put upon him.\n\nHis surprise when he again beheld Alcina was no less than his\nindignation. Fortified by his ring from her enchantments, he saw\nher as she was, a monster of ugliness. All her charms were\nartificial, and, truly viewed, were rather deformities. She was,\nin fact, older than Hecuba or the Sibyl of Cumae; but an art,\nwhich it is to be regretted our times have lost, enabled her to\nappear charming, and to clothe herself in all the attractions of\nyouth. Rogero now saw all this, but, governed by the counsels of\nMelissa, he concealed his surprise, assumed under some pretext his\narmor, long neglected, and bound to his side Belisarda, his trusty\nsword, taking also the buckler of Atlantes, covered with its veil.\n\nHe then selected a horse from the stables of Alcina, without\nexciting her suspicions; but he left the Hippogriff, by the advice\nof Melissa, who promised to take him in charge, and train him to a\nmore manageable state. The horse he took was Rabican, which\nbelonged to Astolpho. He restored the ring to Melissa.\n\nRogero had not ridden far when he met one of the huntsmen of\nAlcina, bearing a falcon on his wrist, and followed by a dog. The\nhuntsman was mounted on a powerful horse, and came boldly up to\nthe paladin, demanding, in a somewhat imperious manner, whither he\nwas going so rapidly. Rogero disdained to stop or to reply;\nwhereupon the huntsman, not doubting that he was about making his\nescape, said, \"What if I, with my falcon, stop your ride?\" So\nsaying, he threw off the bird, which even Rabican could not equal\nin speed. The huntsman then leapt from his horse, and the animal,\nopen-mouthed, darted after Rogero with the swiftness of an arrow.\nThe huntsman also ran as if the wind or fire bore him, and the dog\nwas equal to Rabican in swiftness. Rogero, finding flight\nimpossible, stopped and faced his pursuers; but his sword was\nuseless against such foes. The insolent huntsman assailed him with\nwords, and struck him with his whip, the only weapon he had; the\ndog bit his feet, and the horse drove at him with his hoofs. At\nthe same time the falcon flew over his head and over Rabican's and\nattacked them with claws and wings, so that the horse in his\nfright began to be unmanageable. At that moment the sound of\ntrumpets and cymbals was heard in the valley, and it was evident\nthat Alcina had ordered out all her array to go in pursuit. Rogero\nfelt that there was no time to be lost, and luckily remembered the\nshield of Atlantes, which he bore suspended from his neck. He\nunveiled it, and the charm worked wonderfully. The huntsman, the\ndog, the horse, fell flat; the trembling wings of the falcon could\nno longer sustain her, and she fell senseless to the ground.\nRogero, rid of their annoyances, left them in their trance, and\nrode away.\n\nMeanwhile Alcina, with all the force she could muster, sallied\nforth from her palace in pursuit. Melissa, left behind, took\nadvantage of the opportunity to ransack all the rooms, protected\nby the ring. She undid one by one all the talismans and spells\nwhich she found, broke the seals, burned the images, and untied\nthe hagknots. Thence, hurrying through the fields, she\ndisenchanted the victims changed into trees, fountains, stones, or\nbrutes; all of whom recovered their liberty, and vowed eternal\ngratitude to their deliverer. They made their escape, with all\npossible despatch, to the realms of the good Logestilla, whence\nthey departed to their several homes.\n\nAstolpho was the first whom Melissa liberated, for Rogero had\nparticularly recommended him to her care. She aided him to recover\nhis arms, and particularly that precious golden-headed lance which\nonce was Argalia's. The enchantress mounted with him upon the\nwinged horse, and in a short time arrived through the air at the\ncastle of Logestilla, where Rogero joined them soon after.\n\nIn this abode the friends passed a short period of delightful and\nimproving intercourse with the sage Logestilla and her virtuous\ncourt; and then each departed, Rogero with the Hippogriff, ring,\nand buckler; Astolpho with his golden lance, and mounted on\nRabican, the fleetest of steeds. To Rogero Logestilla gave a bit\nand bridle suited to govern the Hippogriff; and to Astolpho a horn\nof marvellous powers, to be sounded only when all other weapons\nwere unavailing.\n\nTHE ORC\n\nWe left the charming Angelica at the moment when, in her flight\nfrom her contending lovers, Sacripant and Rinaldo, she met an aged\nhermit. We have seen that her request to the hermit was to furnish\nher the means of gaining the sea-coast, eager to avoid Rinaldo,\nwhom she hated, by leaving France and Europe itself. The pretended\nhermit, who was no other than a vile magician, knowing well that\nit would not be agreeable to his false gods to aid Angelica in\nthis undertaking, feigned to comply with her desire. He supplied\nher a horse, into which he had by his arts caused a subtle devil\nto enter, and, having mounted Angelica on the animal, directed her\nwhat course to take to reach the sea.\n\nAngelica rode on her way without suspicion, but when arrived at\nthe shore, the demon urged the animal headlong into the water.\nAngelica in vain attempted to turn him back to the land; he\ncontinued his course till, as night approached, he landed with his\nburden on a sandy headland.\n\nAngelica, finding herself alone, abandoned in this frightful\nsolitude, remained without movement, as if stupefied, with hands\njoined and eyes turned towards heaven, till at last, pouring forth\na torrent of tears, she exclaimed: \"Cruel fortune, have you not\nyet exhausted your rage against me? To what new miseries do you\ndoom me? Alas! then finish your work! Deliver me a prey to some\nferocious beast, or by whatever fate you choose bring me to an\nend. I will be thankful to you for terminating my life and my\nmisery.\" At last, exhausted by her sorrows, she fell asleep, and\nsunk prostrate on the sand.\n\nBefore recounting what next befell, we must declare what place it\nwas upon which the unhappy lady was now thrown. In the sea that\nwashes the coast of Ireland there is an island called Ebuda, whose\ninhabitants, once numerous, had been wasted by the anger of\nProteus till there were now but few left. This deity was incensed\nby some neglect of the usual honors which he had in old times\nreceived from the inhabitants of the land, and, to execute his\nvengeance, had sent a horrid sea-monster, called an Orc, to devour\nthem. Such were the terrors of his ravages that the whole people\nof the isle had shut themselves up in the principal town, and\nrelied on their walls alone to protect them. In this distress they\napplied to the Oracle for advice, and were directed to appease the\nwrath of the sea-monster by offering to him the fairest virgin\nthat the country could produce.\n\nNow it so happened that the very day when this dreadful oracle was\nannounced, and when the fatal mandate had gone forth to seek among\nthe fairest maidens of the land one to be offered to the monster,\nsome sailors, landing on the beach where Angelica was, beheld that\nbeauty as she lay asleep.\n\nO blind Chance! whose power in human affairs is but too great,\ncanst thou then abandon to the teeth of a horrible monster those\ncharms which different sovereigns took arms against one another to\npossess? Alas! the lovely Angelica is destined to be the victim of\nthose cruel islanders.\n\nStill asleep, she was bound by the Ebudians, and it was not until\nshe was carried on board the vessel that she came to a knowledge\nof her situation. The wind filled the sails and wafted the ship\nswiftly to the port, where all that beheld her agreed that she was\nunquestionably the victim selected by Proteus himself to be his\nprey. Who can tell the screams, the mortal anguish of this unhappy\nmaiden, the reproaches she addressed even to the heavens\nthemselves, when the dreadful information of her cruel fate was\nmade known to her? I cannot; let me rather turn to a happier part\nof my story.\n\nRogero left the palace of Logestilla, careering on his flying\ncourser far above the tops of the mountains, and borne westward by\nthe Hippogriff, which he guided with ease, by means of the bridle\nthat Melissa had given him. Anxious as he was to recover\nBradamante, he could not fail to be delighted at the view his\nrapid flight presented of so many vast regions and populous\ncountries as he passed over in his career. At last he approached\nthe shores of England, and perceived an immense army in all the\nsplendor of military pomp, as if about to go forth flushed with\nhopes of victory. He caused the Hippogriff to alight not far from\nthe scene, and found himself immediately surrounded by admiring\nspectators, knights and soldiers, who could not enough indulge\ntheir curiosity and wonder. Rogero learned, in reply to his\nquestions, that the fine array of troops before him was the army\ndestined to go to the aid of the French Emperor, in compliance\nwith the request presented by the illustrious Rinaldo, as\nambassador of King Charles, his uncle.\n\nBy this time the curiosity of the English chevaliers was partly\ngratified in beholding the Hippogriff at rest, and Rogero, to\nrenew their surprise and delight, remounted the animal, and,\nslapping spurs to his sides, made him launch into the air with the\nrapidity of a meteor, and directed his flight still westwardly,\ntill he came within sight of the coasts of Ireland. Here he\ndescried what seemed to be a fair damsel, alone, fast chained to a\nrock which projected into the sea. What was his astonishment when,\ndrawing nigh, he beheld the beautiful princess Angelica! That day\nshe had been led forth and bound to the rock, there to wait till\nthe sea-monster should come to devour her. Rogero exclaimed as he\ncame near, \"What cruel hands, what barbarous soul, what fatal\nchance can have loaded thee with those chains?\" Angelica replied\nby a torrent of tears, at first her only response; then, in a\ntrembling voice, she disclosed to him the horrible destiny for\nwhich she was there exposed. While she spoke, a terrible roaring\nwas heard far off on the sea. The huge monster soon came in sight,\npart of his body appearing above the waves and part concealed.\nAngelica, half dead with fear, abandoned herself to despair.\n\nRogero, lance in rest, spurred his Hippogriff toward the Orc, and\ngave him a thrust. The horrible monster was like nothing that\nnature produces. It was but one mass of tossing and twisting body,\nwith nothing of the animal but head, eyes, and mouth, the last\nfurnished with tusks like those of the wild boar. Rogero's lance\nhad struck him between the eyes; but rock and iron are not more\nimpenetrable than were his scales. The knight, seeing the\nfruitlessness of the first blow, prepared to give a second. The\nanimal, beholding upon the water the shadow of the great wings of\nthe Hippogriff, abandoned his prey, and turned to seize what\nseemed nearer. Rogero took the opportunity, and dealt him furious\nblows on various parts of his body, taking care to keep clear of\nhis murderous teeth; but the scales resisted every attack. The Orc\nbeat the water with his tail till he raised a foam which enveloped\nRogero and his steed, so that the knight hardly knew whether he\nwas in the water or the air. He began to fear that the wings of\nthe Hippogriff would be so drenched with water that they would\ncease to sustain him. At that moment Rogero bethought him of the\nmagic shield which hung at his saddle-bow; but the fear that\nAngelica would also be blinded by its glare discouraged him from\nemploying it. Then he remembered the ring which Melissa had given\nhim, the power of which he had so lately proved. He hastened to\nAngelica and placed it on her finger. Then, uncovering the\nbuckler, he turned its bright disk full in the face of the\ndetestable Orc. The effect was instantaneous. The monster,\ndeprived of sense and motion, rolled over on the sea, and lay\nfloating on his back. Rogero would fain have tried the effect of\nhis lance on the now exposed parts, but Angelica implored him to\nlose no time in delivering her from her chains before the monster\nshould revive. Rogero, moved with her entreaties, hastened to do\nso, and, having unbound her, made her mount behind him on the\nHippogriff. The animal, spurning the earth, shot up into the air,\nand rapidly sped his way through it. Rogero, to give time to the\nprincess to rest after her cruel agitations, soon sought the earth\nagain, alighting on the shore of Brittany. Near the shore a thick\nwood presented itself, which resounded with the songs of birds. In\nthe midst, a fountain of transparent water bathed the turf of a\nlittle meadow. A gentle hill rose near by. Rogero, making the\nHippogriff alight in the meadow, dismounted, and took Angelica\nfrom the horse.\n\nWhen the first tumults of emotion had subsided Angelica, casting\nher eyes downward, beheld the precious ring upon her finger, whose\nvirtues she was well acquainted with, for it was the very ring\nwhich the Saracen Brunello had robbed her of. She drew it from her\nfinger and placed it in her mouth, and, quicker than we can tell\nit, disappeared from the sight of the paladin.\n\nRogero looked around him on all sides, like one frantic, but soon\nremembered the ring which he had so lately placed on her finger.\nStruck with the ingratitude which could thus recompense his\nservices, he exclaimed: \"Thankless beauty, is this then the reward\nyou make me? Do you prefer to rob me of my ring rather than\nreceive it as a gift? Willingly would I have given it to you, had\nyou but asked it.\" Thus he said, searching on all sides with arms\nextended like a blind man, hoping to recover by the touch what was\nlost to sight; but he sought in vain. The cruel beauty was already\nfar away.\n\nThough sensible of her obligations to her deliverer, her first\nnecessity was for clothing, food, and repose. She soon reached a\nshepherd's hut, where, entering unseen, she found what sufficed\nfor her present relief. An old herdsman inhabited the hut, whose\ncharges consisted of a drove of mares. When recruited by repose\nAngelica selected one of the mares from the flock, and, mounting\nthe animal, felt the desire revive in her mind of returning to her\nhome in the East, and for that purpose would gladly have accepted\nthe protection of Orlando or of Sacripant across those wide\nregions which divided her from her own country. In hopes of\nmeeting with one or the other of them she pursued her way.\n\nMeanwhile Rogero, despairing of seeing Angelica again, returned to\nthe tree where he had left his winged horse, but had the\nmortification to find that the animal had broken his bridle and\nescaped. This loss, added to his previous disappointment,\noverwhelmed him with vexation. Sadly he gathered up his arms,\nthrew his buckler over his shoulders, and, taking the first path\nthat offered, soon found himself within the verge of a dense and\nwidespread forest.\n\nHe had proceeded for some distance when he heard a noise on his\nright, and, listening attentively, distinguished the clash of\narms. He made his way toward the place whence the sound proceeded,\nand found two warriors engaged in mortal combat. One of them was a\nknight of a noble and manly bearing, the other a fierce giant. The\nknight appeared to exert consummate address in defending herself\nagainst the massive club of the giant, evading his strokes, or\nparrying them with sword or shield. Rogero stood spectator of the\ncombat, for he did not allow himself to interfere in it, though a\nsecret sentiment inclined him strongly to take part with the\nknight. At length he saw with grief the massive club fall directly\non the head of the knight, who yielded to the blow, and fell\nprostrate. The giant sprang forward to despatch him, and for that\npurpose unlaced his helmet, when Rogero, with dismay, recognized\nthe face of Bradamante. He cried aloud, \"Hold, miscreant!\" and\nsprang forward with drawn sword. Whereupon the giant, as if he\ncared not to enter upon another combat, lifted Bradamante on his\nshoulders, and ran with her into the forest.\n\nRogero plunged after him, but the long legs of the giant carried\nhim forward so fast that the paladin could hardly keep him in\nsight. At length they issued from the wood, and Rogero perceived\nbefore him a rich palace, built of marble, and adorned with\nsculptures executed by a master hand. Into this edifice, through a\ngolden door, the giant passed, and Rogero followed; but, on\nlooking round, saw nowhere either the giant or Bradamante. He ran\nfrom room to room, calling aloud on his cowardly foe to turn and\nmeet him; but got no response, nor caught another glimpse of the\ngiant or his prey. In his vain pursuit he met, without knowing\nthem, Ferrau, Florismart, King Gradasso, Orlando, and many others,\nall of whom had been entrapped like himself into this enchanted\ncastle. It was a new stratagem of the magician Atlantes to draw\nRogero into his power, and to secure also those who might by any\nchance endanger his safety. What Rogero had taken for Bradamante\nwas a mere phantom. That charming lady was far away, full of\nanxiety for her Rogero, whose coming she had long expected.\n\nThe Emperor had committed to her charge the city and garrison of\nMarseilles, and she held the post against the infidels with valor\nand discretion. One day Melissa suddenly presented herself before\nher. Anticipating her questions, she said, \"Fear not for Rogero;\nhe lives, and is as ever true to you; but he has lost his liberty.\nThe fell enchanter has again succeeded in making him a prisoner.\nIf you would deliver him, mount your horse and follow me.\" She\ntold her in what manner Atlantes had deceived Rogero, in deluding\nhis eyes with the phantom of herself in peril. \"Such,\" she\ncontinued, \"will be his arts in your own case, if you penetrate\nthe forest and approach that castle. You will think you behold\nRogero, when, in fact, you see only the enchanter himself. Be not\ndeceived, plunge your sword into his body, and trust me when I\ntell you that, in slaying him, you will restore not only Rogero,\nbut with him many of the bravest knights of France, whom the\nwizard's arts have withdrawn from the camp of their sovereign.\"\n\nBradamante promptly armed herself, and mounted her horse. Melissa\nled her by forced journeys, by field and forest, beguiling the way\nwith conversation on the theme which interested her hearer most.\nWhen at last they reached the forest, she repeated once more her\ninstructions, and then took her leave, for fear the enchanter\nmight espy her, and be put on his guard.\n\nBradamante rode on about two miles when suddenly she beheld\nRogero, as it appeared to her, hard pressed by two fierce giants.\nWhile she hesitated she heard his voice calling on her for help.\nAt once the cautions of Melissa lost their weight. A sudden doubt\nof the faith and truth of her kind monitress flashed across her\nmind. \"Shall I not believe my own eyes and ears?\" she said, and\nrushed forward to his defence. Rogero fled, pursued by the giants,\nand Bradamante followed, passing with them through the castle\ngate. When there, Bradamante was undeceived, for neither giant nor\nknight was to be seen. She found herself a prisoner, but had not\nthe consolation of knowing that she shared the imprisonment of her\nbeloved. She saw various forms of men and women, but could\nrecognize none of them; and their lot was the same with respect to\nher. Each viewed the others under some illusion of the fancy,\nwearing the semblance of giants, dwarfs, or even four-footed\nanimals, so that there was no companionship or communication\nbetween them.\n\nASTOLPHO'S ADVENTURES CONTINUED, AND ISABELLA'S BEGUN\n\nWhen Astolpho escaped from the cruel Alcina, after a short abode\nin the realm of the virtuous Logestilla, he desired to return to\nhis native country. Logestilla lent him the best vessel of her\nfleet to convey him to the mainland. She gave him at parting a\nwonderful book, which taught the secret of overcoming all manners\nof enchantments, and begged him to carry it always with him, out\nof regard for her. She also gave him another gift, which surpassed\neverything of the kind that mortal workmanship can frame; yet it\nwas nothing in appearance but a simple horn.\n\nAstolpho, protected by these gifts, thanked the good fairy, took\nleave of her, and set out on his return to France. His voyage was\nprosperous, and on reaching the desired port he took leave of the\nfaithful mariners, and continued his journey by land. As he\nproceeded over mountains and through valleys he often met with\nbands of robbers, wild beasts, and venomous serpents, but he had\nonly to sound his horn to put them all to flight.\n\nHaving landed in France, and traversed many provinces on his way\nto the army, he one day, in crossing a forest, arrived beside a\nfountain, and alighted to drink. While he stooped at the fountain\na young rustic sprang from the copse, mounted Rabican, and rode\naway. It was a new trick of the enchanter Atlantes. Astolpho,\nhearing the noise, turned his head just in time to see his loss;\nand, starting up, pursued the thief, who, on his part, did not\npress the horse to his full speed, but just kept in sight of his\npursuer till they both issued from the forest; and then Rabican\nand his rider took shelter in a castle which stood near. Astolpho\nfollowed, and penetrated without difficulty within the court-yard\nof the castle, where he looked around for the rider and his horse,\nbut could see no trace of either, nor any person of whom he could\nmake inquiry. Suspecting that enchantment was employed to\nembarrass him, he bethought him of his book, and on consulting it\ndiscovered that his suspicions were well founded. He also learned\nwhat course to pursue. He was directed to raise the stone which\nserved as a threshold, under which a spirit lay pent, who would\nwillingly escape, and leave the castle free of access. Astolpho\napplied his strength to lift aside the stone. Thereupon the\nmagician put his arts in force. The castle was full of prisoners,\nand the magician caused that to all of them Astolpho should appear\nin some false guise--to some a wild beast, to others a giant, to\nothers a bird of prey. Thus all assailed him, and would quickly\nhave made an end of him, if he had not bethought him of his horn.\nNo sooner had he blown a blast than, at the horrid larum, fled the\ncavaliers and the necromancer with them, like a flock of pigeons\nat the sound of the fowler's gun. Astolpho then renewed his\nefforts on the stone, and turned it over. The under face was all\ninscribed with magical characters, which the knight defaced, as\ndirected by his book; and no sooner had he done so, than the\ncastle, with its walls and turrets, vanished into smoke.\n\nThe knights and ladies set at liberty were, besides Rogero and\nBradamante, Orlando, Gradasso, Florismart, and many more. At the\nsound of the horn they fled, one and all, men and steeds, except\nRabican, which Astolpho secured, in spite of his terror. As soon\nas the sound had ceased Rogero recognized Bradamante, whom he had\ndaily met during their imprisonment, but had been prevented from\nknowing by the enchanter's arts. No words can tell the delight\nwith which they recognized each other, and recounted mutually all\nthat had happened to each since they were parted. Rogero took\nadvantage of the opportunity to press his suit, and found\nBradamante as propitious as he could wish, were it not for a\nsingle obstacle, the difference of their faiths. \"If he would\nobtain her in marriage,\" she said, \"he must in due form demand her\nof her father, Duke Aymon, and must abandon his false prophet, and\nbecome a Christian.\" The latter step was one which Rogero had for\nsome time intended taking, for reasons of his own. He therefore\ngladly accepted the terms, and proposed that they should at once\nrepair to the abbey of Vallombrosa, whose towers were visible at\nno great distance. Thither they turned their horses' heads, and we\nwill leave them to find their way without our company.\n\nI know not if my readers recollect that at the moment when Rogero\nhad just delivered Angelica from the voracious Orc that scornful\nbeauty placed her ring in her mouth, and vanished out of sight. At\nthe same time the Hippogriff shook off his bridle, soared away,\nand flew to rejoin his former master, very naturally returning to\nhis accustomed stable. Here Astolpho found him, to his very great\ndelight. He knew the animal's powers, having seen Rogero ride him,\nand he longed to fly abroad over all the earth, and see various\nnations and peoples from his airy course. He had heard\nLogestilla's directions how to guide the animal, and saw her fit a\nbridle to his head. He therefore was able, out of all the bridles\nhe found in the stable, to select one suitable, and, placing\nRabican's saddle on the Hippogriff's back, nothing seemed to\nprevent his immediate departure. Yet before he went he bethought\nhim of placing Rabican in hands where he would be safe, and whence\nhe might recover him in time of need. While he stood deliberating\nwhere he should find a messenger, he saw Bradamante approach. That\nfair warrior had been parted from Rogero on their way to the abbey\nof Vallombrosa, by an inopportune adventure which had called the\nknight away. She was now returning to Montalban, having arranged\nwith Rogero to join her there. To Bradamante, therefore, his fair\ncousin, Astolpho committed Rabican, and also the lance of gold,\nwhich would only be an incumbrance in his aerial excursion.\nBradamante took charge of both; and Astolpho, bidding her\nfarewell, soared in air.\n\nAmong those delivered by Astolpho from the magician's castle was\nOrlando. Following the guide of chance, the paladin found himself\nat the close of day in a forest, and stopped at the foot of a\nmountain. Surprised to discern a light which came from a cleft in\nthe rock, he approached, guided by the ray, and discovered a\nnarrow passage in the mountain-side, which led into a deep grotto.\n\nOrlando fastened his horse, and then, putting aside the bushes\nthat resisted his passage, stepped down from rock to rock till he\nreached a sort of cavern. Entering it, he perceived a lady, young\nand handsome, as well as he could discover through the signs of\ndistress which agitated her countenance. Her only companion was an\nold woman, who seemed to be regarded by her young partner with\nterror and indignation. The courteous paladin saluted the women\nrespectfully, and begged to know by whose barbarity they had been\nsubjected to such imprisonment.\n\nThe younger lady replied, in a voice often broken with sobs:\n\n\"Though I know well that my recital will subject me to worse\ntreatment by the barbarous man who keeps me here, to whom this\nwoman will not fail to report it, yet I will not hide from you the\nfacts. Ah! why should I fear his rage? If he should take my life,\nI know not what better boon than death I can ask.\n\n\"My name is Isabella. I am the daughter of the king of Galicia, or\nrather I should say misfortune and grief are my parents. Young,\nrich, modest, and of tranquil temper, all things appeared to\ncombine to render my lot happy. Alas! I see myself to-day poor,\nhumbled, miserable, and destined perhaps to yet further\nafflictions. It is a year since, my father having given notice\nthat he would open the lists for a tournament at Bayonne, a great\nnumber of chevaliers from all quarters came together at our court.\nAmong these Zerbino, son of the king of Scotland, victorious in\nall combats, eclipsed by his beauty and his valor all the rest.\nBefore departing from the court of Galicia he testified the wish\nto espouse me, and I consented that he should demand my hand of\nthe king, my father. But I was a Mahometan, and Zerbino a\nChristian, and my father refused his consent. The prince, called\nhome by his father to take command of the forces destined to the\nassistance of the French Emperor, prevailed on me to be married to\nhim secretly, and to follow him to Scotland. He caused a galley to\nbe prepared to receive me, and placed in command of it the\nchevalier Oderic, a Biscayan, famous for his exploits both by land\nand sea. On the day appointed, Oderic brought his vessel to a\nseaside resort of my father's, where I embarked. Some of my\ndomestics accompanied me, and thus I departed from my native land.\n\n\"Sailing with a fair wind, after some hours we were assailed by a\nviolent tempest. It was to no purpose that we took in all sail; we\nwere driven before the wind directly upon the rocky shore. Seeing\nno other hopes of safety, Oderic placed me in a boat, followed\nhimself with a few of his men, and made for land. We reached it\nthrough infinite peril, and I no sooner felt the firm land beneath\nmy feet, than I knelt down and poured out heartfelt thanks to the\nProvidence that had preserved me.\n\n\"The shore where we landed appeared to be uninhabited. We saw no\ndwelling to shelter us, no road to lead us to a more hospitable\nspot. A high mountain rose before us, whose base stretched into\nthe sea. It was here the infamous Oderic, in spite of my tears and\nentreaties, sold me to a band of pirates, who fancied I might be\nan acceptable present to their prince, the Sultan of Morocco. This\ncavern is their den, and here they keep me under the guard of this\nwoman, until it shall suit their convenience to carry me away.\"\n\nIsabella had hardly finished her recital when a troop of armed men\nbegan to enter the cavern. Seeing the prince Orlando, one said to\nthe rest, \"What bird is this we have caught, without even setting\na snare for him?\" Then addressing Orlando, \"It was truly civil in\nyou, friend, to come hither with that handsome coat of armor and\nvest, the very things I want.\" \"You shall pay for them, then,\"\nsaid Orlando; and seizing a half-burnt brand from the fire, he\nhurled it at him, striking his head, and stretching him lifeless\non the floor.\n\nThere was a massy table in the middle of the cavern, used for the\npirates' repasts. Orlando lifted it and hurled it at the robbers\nas they stood clustered in a group toward the entrance. Half the\ngang were laid prostrate, with broken heads and limbs; the rest\ngot away as nimbly as they could.\n\nLeaving the den and its inmates to their fate, Orlando, taking\nIsabella under his protection, pursued his way for some days,\nwithout meeting with any adventure.\n\nOne day they saw a band of men advancing, who seemed to be\nguarding a prisoner, bound hand and foot, as if being carried to\nexecution. The prisoner was a youthful cavalier, of a noble and\ningenuous appearance. The band bore the ensigns of Count Anselm,\nhead of the treacherous house of Maganza. Orlando desired Isabella\nto wait, while he rode forward to inquire the meaning of this\narray. Approaching, he demanded of the leader who his prisoner\nwas, and of what crime he had been guilty. The man replied that\nthe prisoner was a murderer, by whose hand Pinabel, the son of\nCount Anselm, had been treacherously slain. At these words the\nprisoner exclaimed, \"I am no murderer, nor have I been in any way\nthe cause of the young man's death.\" Orlando, knowing the cruel\nand ferocious character of the chiefs of the house of Maganza,\nneeded no more to satisfy him that the youth was the victim of\ninjustice. He commanded the leader of the troop to release his\nvictim, and, receiving an insolent reply, dashed him to the earth\nwith a stroke of his lance; then by a few vigorous blows dispersed\nthe band, leaving deadly marks on those who were slowest to quit\nthe field.\n\nOrlando then hastened to unbind the prisoner, and to assist him to\nreclothe himself in his armor, which the false Magencian had dared\nto assume. He then led him to Isabella, who now approached the\nscene of action. How can we picture the joy, the astonishment,\nwith which Isabella recognized in him Zerbino, her husband, and\nthe prince discovered her whom he had believed overwhelmed in the\nwaves! They embraced one another, and wept for joy. Orlando,\nsharing in their happiness, congratulated himself in having been\nthe instrument of it. The princess recounted to Zerbino what the\nillustrious paladin had done for her, and the prince threw himself\nat Orlando's feet, and thanked him as having twice preserved his\nlife.\n\nWhile these exchanges of congratulation and thankfulness were\ngoing on, a sound in the underwood attracted their attention, and\ncaused the two knights to brace their helmets and stand on their\nguard. What the cause of the interruption was we shall record in\nanother chapter.\n\nMEDORO\n\nFrance was at this time the theatre of dreadful events. The\nSaracens and the Christians, in numerous encounters, slew one\nanother. On one occasion Rinaldo led an attack on the infidel\ncolumns, broke and scattered them, till he found himself opposite\nto a knight whose armor (whether by accident or by choice, it\nmatters not) bore the blazon of Orlando. It was Dardinel, the\nyoung and brave prince of Zumara, and Rinaldo remarked him by the\nslaughter he spread all around. \"Ah,\" said he to himself, \"let us\npluck up this dangerous plant before it has grown to its full\nheight.\"\n\nAs Rinaldo advanced, the crowd opened before him, the Christians\nto let his sword have free course, the Pagans to escape its sweep.\nDardinel and he stood face to face. Rinaldo exclaimed, fiercely,\n\"Young man, whoever gave you that noble buckler to bear made you a\ndangerous gift; I should like to see how you are able to defend\nthose quarterings, red and white. If you cannot defend them\nagainst me, how pray will you do so when Orlando challenges them?\"\nDardinel replied: \"Thou shalt learn that I can defend the arms I\nbear, and shed new glory upon them. No one shall rend them from me\nbut with life.\" Saying these words, Dardinel rushed upon Rinaldo\nwith sword uplifted. The chill of mortal terror filled the souls\nof the Saracens when they beheld Rinaldo advance to attack the\nprince, like a lion against a young bull. The first blow came from\nthe hand of Dardinel, and the weapon rebounded from Mambrino's\nhelmet without effect. Rinaldo smiled, and said, \"I will now show\nyou if my strokes are more effectual.\" At these words he thrust\nthe unfortunate Dardinel in the middle of his breast. The blow was\nso violent that the cruel weapon pierced the body, and came out a\npalm-breadth behind his back. Through this wound the life of\nDardinel issued with his blood, and his body fell helpless to the\nground.\n\nAs a flower which the passing plough has uprooted languishes, and\ndroops its head, so Dardinel, his visage covered with the paleness\nof death, expires, and the hopes of an illustrious race perish\nwith him.\n\nLike waters kept back by a dike, which, when the dike is broken,\nspread abroad through all the country, so the Moors, no longer\nkept in column by the example of Dardinel, fled in all directions.\nRinaldo despised too much such easy victories to pursue them; he\nwished for no combats but with brave men. At the same time, the\nother paladins made terrible slaughter of the Moors. Charles\nhimself, Oliver, Guido, and Ogier the Dane, carried death into\ntheir ranks on all sides.\n\nThe infidels seemed doomed to perish to a man on that dreadful\nday; but the wise king, Marsilius, at last put some slight degree\nof method into the general rout. He collected the remnant of the\ntroops, formed them into a battalion, and retreated in tolerable\norder to his camp. That camp was well fortified by intrenchments\nand a broad ditch. Thither the fugitives hastened, and by degrees\nall that remained of the Moorish army was brought together there.\n\nThe Emperor might perhaps that night have crushed his enemy\nentirely; but not thinking it prudent to expose his troops,\nfatigued as they were, to an attack upon a camp so well fortified,\nhe contented himself with encompassing the enemy with his troops,\nprepared to make a regular siege. During the night the Moors had\ntime to see the extent of their loss. Their tents resounded with\nlamentations. This warrior had to mourn a brother, that a friend;\nmany suffered with grievous wounds, all trembled at the fate in\nstore for them.\n\nThere were two young Moors, both of humble rank, who gave proof at\nthat time of attachment and fidelity rare in the history of man.\nCloridan and Medoro had followed their prince, Dardinel, to the\nwars of France. Cloridan, a bold huntsman, combined strength with\nactivity. Medoro was a mere youth, his cheeks yet fair and\nblooming. Of all the Saracens, no one united so much grace and\nbeauty. His light hair was set off by his black and sparkling\neyes. The two friends were together on guard at the rampart. About\nmidnight they gazed on the scene in deep dejection. Medoro, with\ntears in his eyes, spoke of the good prince Dardinel, and could\nnot endure the thought that his body should be cast out on the\nplain, deprived of funeral honors. \"O my friend,\" said he, \"must\nthen the body of our prince be the prey of wolves and ravens?\nAlas! when I remember how he loved me, I feel that if I should\nsacrifice my life to do him honor, I should not do more than my\nduty. I wish, dear friend, to seek out his body on the\nbattlefield, and give it burial, and I hope to be able to pass\nthrough King Charles's camp without discovery, as they are\nprobably all asleep. You, Cloridan, will be able to say for me, if\nI should die in the adventure, that gratitude and fidelity to my\nprince were my inducements.\"\n\nCloridan was both surprised and touched with this proof of the\nyoung man's devotion. He loved him tenderly, and tried for a long\ntime every effort to dissuade him from his design; but he found\nMedoro determined to accomplish his object or die in the endeavor.\n\nCloridan, unable to change his purpose, said, \"I will go with you,\nMedoro, and help you in this generous enterprise. I value not life\ncompared with honor, and if I did, do you suppose, dear friend,\nthat I could live without you? I would rather fall by the arms of\nour enemies than die of grief for the loss of you.\"\n\nWhen the two friends were relieved from their guard duty they went\nwithout any followers into the camp of the Christians. All there\nwas still; the fires were dying out; there was no fear of any\nattempt on the part of the Saracens, and the soldiers, overcome by\nfatigue or wine, slept secure, lying upon the ground in the midst\nof their arms and equipage. Cloridan stopped, and said, \"Medoro, I\nam not going to quit this camp without taking vengeance for the\ndeath of our prince. Keep watch, be on your guard that no one\nshall surprise us; I mean to mark a road with my sword through the\nranks of our enemies.\" So saying, he entered the tent where\nAlpheus slept, who a year before had joined the camp of Charles,\nand pretended to be a great physician and astrologer. But his\nscience had deceived him, if it gave him hope of dying peacefully\nin his bed at a good old age; his lot was to die with little\nwarning. Cloridan ran his sword through his heart. A Greek and a\nGerman followed, who had been playing late at dice: fortunate if\nthey had continued their game a little longer; but they never\nreckoned a throw like this among their chances. Cloridan next came\nto the unlucky Grillon, whose head lay softly on his pillow. He\ndreamed probably of the feast from which he had but just retired;\nfor when Cloridan cut off his head wine flowed forth with the\nblood.\n\nThe two young Moors might have penetrated even to the tent of\nCharlemagne; but knowing that the paladins encamped around him\nkept watch by turns, and judging that it was impossible they\nshould all be asleep, they were afraid to go too near. They might\nalso have obtained rich booty; but, intent only on their object,\nthey crossed the camp, and arrived at length at the bloody field,\nwhere bucklers, lances, and swords lay scattered in the midst of\ncorpses of poor and rich, common soldier and prince, horses and\npools of blood. This terrible scene of carnage would have\ndestroyed all hope of finding what they were in search of until\ndawn of day, were it not that the moon lent the aid of her\nuncertain rays.\n\nMedoro raised his eyes to the planet, and exclaimed, \"O holy\ngoddess, whom our fathers have adored under three different\nforms,--thou who displayest thy power in heaven, on earth, and in\nthe underworld,--thou who art seen foremost among the nymphs\nchasing the beasts of the forest,--cause me to see, I implore\nthee, the spot where my dear master lies, and make me all my life\nlong follow the example which thou dost exhibit of works of\ncharity and love.\"\n\nEither by accident, or that the moon was sensible of the prayer of\nMedoro, the cloud broke away, and the moonlight burst forth as\nbright as day. The rays seemed especially to gild the spot where\nlay the body of Prince Dardinel; and Medoro, bathed in tears and\nwith bleeding heart, recognized him by the quarterings of red and\nwhite on his shield.\n\nWith groans stifled by his tears, and lamentations in accents\nsuppressed, not from any fear for himself, for he cared not for\nlife, but lest any one should be roused to interrupt their pious\nduty while yet incomplete, he proposed to his companion that they\nshould together bear Dardinel on their shoulders, sharing the\nburden of the beloved remains.\n\nMarching with rapid strides under their precious load, they\nperceived that the stars began to grow pale, and that the shades\nof night would soon be dispersed by the dawn. Just then Zerbino,\nwhose extreme valor had urged him far from the camp in pursuit of\nthe fugitives, returning, entered the wood in which they were.\nSome knights in his train perceived at a distance the two\nbrothers-in-arms. Cloridan saw the troop, and, observing that they\ndispersed themselves over the plain as if in search of booty, told\nMedoro to lay down the body, and let each save himself by flight.\nHe dropped his part, thinking that Medoro would do the same; but\nthe good youth loved his prince too well to abandon him, and\ncontinued to carry his load singly as well as he might, while\nCloridan made his escape. Near by there was a part of the wood\ntufted as if nothing but wild animals had ever penetrated it. The\nunfortunate youth, loaded with the weight of his dead master,\nplunged into its recesses.\n\nCloridan, when he perceived that he had evaded his foes,\ndiscovered that Medoro was not with him. \"Ah!\" exclaimed he, \"how\ncould I, dear Medoro, so forget myself as to consult my own safety\nwithout heeding yours?\" So saying, he retraced the tangled passes\nof the wood toward the place from whence he had fled. As he\napproached he heard the noise of horses, and the menacing voices\nof armed men. Soon he perceived Medoro, on foot, with the\ncavaliers surrounding him. Zerbino, their commander, bade them\nseize him. The unhappy Medoro turned now this way, now that,\ntrying to conceal himself behind an oak or a rock, still bearing\nthe body, which he would by no means leave. Cloridan not knowing\nhow to help him, but resolved to perish with him, if he must\nperish, takes an arrow, fits it to his bow, discharges it, and\npierces the breast of a Christian knight, who falls helpless from\nhis horse. The others look this way and that, to discover whence\nthe fatal bolt was sped. One, while demanding of his comrades in\nwhat direction the arrow came, received a second in his throat,\nwhich stopped his words, and soon closed his eyes to the scene.\n\nZerbino, furious at the death of his two comrades, ran upon\nMedoro, seized his golden hair, and dragged him forward to slay\nhim. But the sight of so much youth and beauty commanded pity. He\nstayed his arm. The young man spoke in suppliant tones. \"Ah!\nsignor,\" said he, \"I conjure you by the God whom you serve,\ndeprive me not of life until I shall have buried the body of the\nprince, my master. Fear not that I will ask you any other favor;\nlife is not dear to me; I desire death as soon as I shall have\nperformed this sacred duty. Do with me then as you please. Give my\nlimbs a prey to the birds and beasts; only let me first bury my\nprince.\" Medoro pronounced these words with an air so sweet and\ntender that a heart of stone would have been moved by them.\nZerbino was so to the bottom of his soul. He was on the point of\nuttering words of mercy, when a cruel subaltern, forgetting all\nrespect to his commander, plunged his lance into the breast of the\nyoung Moor. Zerbino, enraged at his brutality, turned upon the\nwretch to take vengeance, but he saved himself by a precipitate\nflight.\n\nCloridan, who saw Medoro fall, could contain himself no longer. He\nrushed from his concealment, threw down his bow, and, sword in\nhand, seemed only desirous of vengeance for Medoro, and to die\nwith him. In a moment, pierced through and through with many\nwounds, he exerts the last remnant of his strength in dragging\nhimself to Medoro, to die embracing him. The cavaliers left them\nthus to rejoin Zerbino, whose rage against the murderer of Medoro\nhad drawn him away from the spot.\n\nCloridan died; and Medoro, bleeding copiously, was drawing near\nhis end when help arrived.\n\nA young maiden approached the fallen knights at this critical\nmoment. Her dress was that of a peasant-girl, but her air was\nnoble, and her beauty celestial; sweetness and goodness reigned in\nher lovely countenance. It was no other than Angelica, the\nPrincess of Cathay.\n\nWhen she had recovered that precious ring, as we have before\nrelated, Angelica, knowing its value, felt proud in the power it\nconferred, travelled alone without fear, not without a secret\nshame that she had ever been obliged to seek protection in her\nwanderings of the Count Orlando and of Sacripant. She reproached\nherself too as with a weakness that she had ever thought of\nmarrying Rinaldo; in fine, her pride grew so high as to persuade\nher that no man living was worthy to aspire to her hand.\n\nMoved with pity at the sight of the young man wounded, and melted\nto tears at hearing the cause, she quickly recalled to remembrance\nthe knowledge she had acquired in India, where the virtues of\nplants and the art of healing formed part of the education even of\nprincesses. The beautiful queen ran into the adjoining meadow to\ngather plants of virtue to staunch the flow of blood. Meeting on\nher way a countryman on horseback seeking a strayed heifer, she\nbegged him to come to her assistance, and endeavor to remove the\nwounded man to a more secure asylum.\n\nAngelica, having prepared the plants by bruising them between two\nstones, laid them with her fair hand on Medoro's wound. The remedy\nsoon restored in some degree the strength of the wounded man, who,\nbefore he would quit the spot, made them cover with earth and turf\nthe bodies of his friend and of the prince. Then surrendering\nhimself to the pity of his deliverers, he allowed them to place\nhim on the horse of the shepherd, and conduct him to his cottage.\nIt was a pleasant farmhouse on the borders of the wood, bearing\nmarks of comfort and competency. There the shepherd lived with his\nwife and children. There Angelica tended Medoro, and there, by the\ndevoted care of the beautiful queen, his sad wound closed over,\nand he recovered his perfect health.\n\nO Count Rinaldo, O King Sacripant! what availed it you to possess\nso many virtues and such fame? What advantage have you derived\nfrom all your high deserts? O hapless king, great Agrican! if you\ncould return to life, how would you endure to see yourself\nrejected by one who will bow to the yoke of Hymen in favor of a\nyoung soldier of humble birth? And thou, Ferrau, and ye numerous\nothers who a hundred times have put your lives at hazard for this\ncruel beauty, how bitter will it be to you to see her sacrifice\nyou all to the claims of the humble Medoro!\n\nThere, under the low roof of a shepherd, the flame of Hymen was\nlighted for this haughty queen. She takes the shepherd's wife to\nserve in place of mother, the shepherd and his children for\nwitnesses, and marries the happy Medoro.\n\nAngelica, after her marriage, wishing to endow Medoro with the\nsovereignty of the countries which yet remained to her, took with\nhim the road to the East. She had preserved through all her\nadventures a bracelet of gold enriched with precious stones, the\npresent of the Count Orlando. Having nothing else wherewith to\nreward the good shepherd and his wife, who had served her with so\nmuch care and fidelity, she took the bracelet from her arm and\ngave it to them, and then the newly-married couple directed their\nsteps toward those mountains which separate France and Spain,\nintending to wait at Barcelona a vessel which should take them on\ntheir way to the East.\n\nORLANDO MAD\n\nOrlando, on the loss of Angelica, laid aside his crest and arms,\nand arrayed himself in a suit of black armor expressive of his\ndespair. In this guise he carried such slaughter among the ranks\nof the infidels that both armies were astonished at the\nachievements of the stranger knight. Mandricardo, who had been\nabsent from the battle, heard the report of these achievements and\ndetermined to test for himself the valor of the knight so\nextolled. He it was who broke in upon the conference of Zerbino\nand Isabella, and their benefactor Orlando, as they stood occupied\nin mutual felicitations, after the happy reunion of the lovers by\nthe prowess of the paladin.\n\nMandricardo, after contemplating the group for a moment, addressed\nhimself to Orlando in these words: \"Thou must be the man I seek.\nFor ten days and more I have been on thy track. The fame of thy\nexploits has brought me hither, that I may measure my strength\nwith thine. Thy crest and shield prove thee the same who spread\nsuch slaughter among our troops. But these marks are superfluous,\nand if I saw thee among a hundred I should know thee by thy\nmartial bearing to be the man I seek.\"\n\n\"I respect thy courage,\" said Orlando; \"such a design could not\nhave sprung up in any but a brave and generous soul. If the desire\nto see me has brought thee hither, I would, if it were possible,\nshow thee my inmost soul. I will remove my visor, that you may\nsatisfy your curiosity; but when you have done so I hope that you\nwill also try and see if my valor corresponds to my appearance.\"\n\"Come on,\" said the Saracen, \"my first wish was to see and know\nthee; I will not gratify my second.\"\n\nOrlando, observing Mandricardo was surprised to see no sword at\nhis side, nor mace at his saddle-bow. \"And what weapon hast thou,\"\nsaid he, \"if thy lance fail thee?\"\n\n\"Do not concern yourself about that,\" said Mandricardo; \"I have\nmade many good knights give ground with no other weapon than you\nsee. Know that I have sworn an oath never to bear a sword until I\nwin back that famous Durindana that Orlando, the paladin, carries.\nThat sword belongs to the suit of armor which I wear; that only is\nwanting. Without doubt it was stolen, but how it got into the\nhands of Orlando I know not. But I will make him pay dearly for it\nwhen I find him I seek him the more anxiously that I may avenge\nwith his blood the death of King Agrican, my father, whom he\ntreacherously slew. I am sure he must have done it by treachery,\nfor it was not in his power to subdue in fair fight such a warrior\nas my father.\"\n\n\"Thou liest,\" cried Orlando; \"and all who say so lie. I am\nOrlando, whom you seek; yes, I am he who slew your father\nhonorably. Hold, here is the sword: you shall have it if your\ncourage avails to merit it. Though it belongs to me by right, I\nwill not use it in this dispute. See, I hang it on this tree; you\nshall be master of it, if you bereave me of life; not else.\"\n\nAt these words Orlando drew Durindana, and hung it on one of the\nbranches of a tree near by.\n\nBoth knights, boiling with equal ardor, rode off in a semicircle;\nthen rushed together with reins thrown loose, and struck one\nanother with their lances. Both kept their seats, immovable. The\nsplinters of their lances flew into the air, and no weapon\nremained for either but the fragment which he held in his hand.\nThen those two knights, covered with iron mail, were reduced to\nthe necessity of fighting with staves, in the manner of two\nrustics, who dispute the boundary of a meadow, or the possession\nof a spring.\n\nThese clubs could not long keep whole in the hands of such sturdy\nsmiters, who were soon reduced to fight with naked fists. Such\nwarfare was more painful to him that gave than to him that\nreceived the blows. They next clasped, and strained each his\nadversary, as Hercules did Antaeus. Mandricardo, more enraged than\nOrlando, made violent efforts to unseat the paladin, and dropped\nthe rein of his horse. Orlando, more calm, perceived it. With one\nhand he resisted Mandricardo, with the other he twitched the\nhorse's bridle over the ears of the animal. The Saracen dragged\nOrlando with all his might, but Orlando's thighs held the saddle\nlike a vise. At last the efforts of the Saracen broke the girths\nof Orlando's horse; the saddle slipped; the knight, firm in his\nstirrups, slipped with it, and came to the ground hardly conscious\nof his fall. The noise of his armor in falling startled\nMandricardo's horse, now without a bridle. He started off in full\ncareer, heeding neither trees nor rocks nor broken ground. Urged\nby fright, he ran with furious speed, carrying his master, who,\nalmost distracted with rage, shouted and beat the animal with his\nfists, and thereby impelled his flight. After running thus three\nmiles or more, a deep ditch opposed their progress. The horse and\nrider fell headlong into it, and did not find the bottom covered\nwith feather-beds or roses. They got sadly bruised; but were lucky\nenough to escape without any broken limbs.\n\nMandricardo, as soon as he gained his feet, seized the horse by\nhis mane with fury; but, having no bridle, could not hold him. He\nlooked round in hopes of finding something that would do for a\nrein. Just then fortune, who seemed willing to help him at last,\nbrought that way a peasant with a bridle in his hand, who was in\nsearch of his farm horse that had strayed away.\n\nOrlando, having speedily repaired his horse's girths, remounted,\nand waited a good hour for the Saracen to return. Not seeing him,\nhe concluded to go in search of him. He took an affectionate leave\nof Zerbino and Isabella, who would willingly have followed him;\nbut this the brave paladin would by no means permit. He held it\nunknightly to go in search of an enemy accompanied by a friend,\nwho might act as a defender. Therefore, desiring them to say to\nMandricardo, if they should meet him, that his purpose was to\ntarry in the neighborhood three days, and then repair to the camp\nof Charlemagne, he took down Durindana from the tree, and\nproceeded in the direction which the Saracen's horse had taken.\nBut the animal, having no guide but its terror, had so doubled and\nconfused its traces that Orlando, after two days spent in the\nsearch, gave up the attempt.\n\nIt was about the middle of the third day when the paladin arrived\non the pleasant bank of a stream which wound through a meadow\nenamelled with flowers. High trees, whose tops met and formed an\narbor, over-shadowed the fountain; and the breeze which blew\nthrough their foliage tempered the heat. Hither the shepherds used\nto resort to quench their thirst, and to enjoy the shelter from\nthe midday sun. The air, perfumed with the flowers, seemed to\nbreathe fresh strength into their veins. Orlando felt the\ninfluence, though covered with his armor. He stopped in this\ndelicious arbor, where everything seemed to invite to repose. But\nhe could not have chosen a more fatal asylum. He there spent the\nmost miserable moments of his life.\n\nHe looked around, and noted with pleasure all the charms of the\nspot. He saw that some of the trees were carved with inscriptions\n--he drew near, and read them, and what was his surprise to find\nthat they composed the name of Angelica! Farther on he found the\nname of Medoro mixed with hers. The paladin thought he dreamed. He\nstood like one amazed--like a bird that, rising to fly, finds its\nfeet caught in a net.\n\nOrlando followed the course of the stream, and came to one of its\nturns where the rocks of the mountain bent in such a way as to\nform a sort of grotto. The twisted stems of ivy and the wild vine\ndraped the entrance of this recess, scooped by the hand of nature.\n\nThe unhappy paladin, on entering the grotto, saw letters which\nappeared to have been lately carved. They were verses which Medoro\nhad written in honor of his happy nuptials with the beautiful\nqueen. Orlando tried to persuade himself it must be some other\nAngelica whom those verses celebrated, and as for Medoro, he had\nnever heard his name. The sun was now declining, and Orlando\nremounted his horse, and went on his way. He soon saw the roof of\na cottage whence the smoke ascended; he heard the barking of dogs\nand the lowing of cattle, and arrived at a humble dwelling which\nseemed to offer an asylum for the night. The inmates, as soon as\nthey saw him, hastened to tender him service. One took his horse,\nanother his shield and cuirass, another his golden spurs. This\ncottage was the very same where Medoro had been carried, deeply\nwounded,--where Angelica had tended him, and afterwards married\nhim. The shepherd who lived in it loved to tell everybody the\nstory of this marriage, and soon related it, with all its details,\nto the miserable Orlando.\n\nHaving finished it, he went away, and returned with the precious\nbracelet which Angelica, grateful for his services, had given him\nas a memorial. It was the one which Orlando had himself given her.\n\nThis last touch was the finishing stroke to the excited paladin.\nFrantic, exasperated, he exclaimed against the ungrateful and\ncruel princess who had disdained him, the most renowned, the most\nindomitable of all the paladins of France,--him, who had rescued\nher from the most alarming perils,--him, who had fought the most\nterrible battles for her sake,--she to prefer to him a young\nSaracen! The pride of the noble Count was deeply wounded.\nIndignant, frantic, a victim to ungovernable rage, he rushed into\nthe forest, uttering the most frightful shrieks.\n\n\"No, no!\" cried he, \"I am not the man they take me for! Orlando is\ndead! I am only the wandering ghost of that unhappy Count, who is\nnow suffering the torments of hell!\"\n\nOrlando wandered all night, as chance directed, through the wood,\nand at sunrise his destiny led him to the fountain where Medoro\nhad engraved the fatal inscription. The frantic paladin saw it a\nsecond time with fury, drew his sword, and hacked it from the\nrock.\n\nUnlucky grotto! you shall no more attract by your shade and\ncoolness, you shall no more shelter with your arch either shepherd\nor flock. And you, fresh and pure fountain, you may not escape the\nrage of the furious Orlando! He cast into the fountain branches,\ntrunks of trees which he tore up, pieces of rocks which he broke\noff, plants uprooted, with the earth adhering, and turf and\nbrushes, so as to choke the fountain, and destroy the purity of\nits waters. At length, exhausted by his violent exertions, bathed\nin sweat, breathless, Orlando sunk panting upon the earth, and lay\nthere insensible three days and three nights.\n\nThe fourth day he started up and seized his arms. His helmet, his\nbuckler, he cast far from him; his hauberk and his clothes he rent\nasunder; the fragments were scattered through the wood. In fine,\nhe became a furious madman. His insanity was such that he cared\nnot to retain even his sword. But he had no need of Durindana, nor\nof other arms, to do wonderful things. His prodigious strength\nsufficed. At the first wrench of his mighty arm he tore up a pine-\ntree by the roots. Oaks, beeches, maples, whatever he met in his\npath, yielded in like manner. The ancient forest soon became as\nbare as the borders of a morass, where the fowler has cleared away\nthe bushes to spread his nets. The shepherds, hearing the horrible\ncrashing in the forest, abandoned their flocks to run and see the\ncause of this unwonted uproar. By their evil star, or for their\nsins, they were led thither. When they saw the furious state the\nCount was in, and his incredible force, they would fain have fled\nout of his reach, but in their fears lost their presence of mind.\nThe madman pursued them, seized one and rent him limb from limb,\nas easily as one would pull ripe apples from a tree. He took\nanother by the feet, and used him as a club to knock down a third.\nThe shepherds fled; but it would have been hard for any to escape,\nif he had not at that moment left them to throw himself with the\nsame fury upon their flocks. The peasants, abandoning their\nploughs and harrows, mounted on the roofs of buildings and\npinnacles of the rocks, afraid to trust themselves even to the\noaks and pines. From such heights they looked on, trembling at the\nraging fury of the unhappy Orlando. His fists, his teeth, his\nnails, his feet, seize, break, and tear cattle, sheep, and swine;\nthe most swift in flight alone being able to escape him.\n\nWhen at last terror had scattered everything before him, he\nentered a cottage which was abandoned by its inhabitants, and\nthere found that which served for food. His long fast had caused\nhim to feel the most ravenous hunger. Seizing whatever he found\nthat was eatable, whether roots, acorns, or bread, raw meat or\ncooked, he gorged it indiscriminately.\n\nIssuing thence again, the frantic Orlando gave chase to whatever\nliving thing he saw, whether men or animals. Sometimes he pursued\nthe deer and hind, sometimes he attacked bears and wolves, and\nwith his naked hands killed and tore them, and devoured their\nflesh.\n\nThus he wandered, from place to place, through France, imperilling\nhis life a thousand ways, yet always preserved by some mysterious\nprovidence from a fatal result. But here we leave Orlando for a\ntime, that we may record what befell Zerbino and Isabella after\ntheir parting with him.\n\nThe prince and his fair bride waited, by Orlando's request, near\nthe scene of the battle for three days, that, if Mandricardo\nshould return, they might inform him where Orlando would give him\nanother meeting. At the end of that time their anxiety to know the\nissue led them to follow Orlando's traces, which led them at last\nto the wood where the trees were inscribed with the names of\nAngelica and Medoro. They remarked how all these inscriptions were\ndefaced, and how the grotto was disordered, and the fountain\nclogged with rubbish. But that which surprised them and distressed\nthem most of all was to find on the grass the cuirass of Orlando,\nand not far from it his helmet, the same which the renowned\nAlmontes once wore.\n\nHearing a horse neigh in the forest, Zerbino turned his eyes in\nthat direction, and saw Brigliadoro, with the bridle yet hanging\nat the saddle-bow. He looked round for Durindana, and found that\nfamous sword, without the scabbard, lying on the grass. He saw\nalso the fragments of Orlando's other arms and clothing scattered\non all sides over the plain.\n\nZerbino and Isabella stood in astonishment and grief, not knowing\nwhat to think, but little imagining the true cause. If they had\nfound any marks of blood on the arms or on the fragments of the\nclothing, they would have supposed him slain, but there were none.\nWhile they were in this painful uncertainty they saw a young\npeasant approach. He, not yet recovered from the terror of the\nscene, which he had witnessed from the top of a rock, told them\nthe whole of the sad events.\n\nZerbino, with his eyes full of tears, carefully collected all the\nscattered arms. Isabella also dismounted to aid him in the sad\nduty. When they had collected all the pieces of that rich armor\nthey hung them like a trophy on a pine; and to prevent their being\nviolated by any passers-by, Zerbino inscribed on the bark this\ncaution: \"These are the arms of the Paladin Orlando.\"\n\nHaving finished this pious work, he remounted his horse, and just\nthen a knight rode up, and requested Zerbino to tell him the\nmeaning of the trophy. The prince related the facts as they had\nhappened; and Mandricardo, for it was that Saracen knight, full of\njoy, rushed forward, and seized the sword, saying, \"No one can\ncensure me for what I do; this sword is mine; I can take my own\nwherever I find it. It is plain that Orlando, not daring to defend\nit against me, has counterfeited madness to excuse him in\nsurrendering it.\"\n\nZerbino vehemently exclaimed, \"Touch not that sword. Think not to\npossess it without a contest. If it be true that the arms you wear\nare those of Hector, you must have got them by theft, and not by\nprowess.\"\n\nImmediately they attacked one another with the utmost fury. The\nair resounded with thick-falling blows. Zerbino, skilful and\nalert, evaded for a time with good success the strokes of\nDurindana; but at length a terrible blow struck him on the neck.\nHe fell from his horse, and the Tartar king, possessed of the\nspoils of his victory, rode away.\n\nZERBINO AND ISABELLA\n\nZerbino's pain at seeing the Tartar prince go off with the sword\nsurpassed the anguish of his wound; but now the loss of blood so\nreduced his strength that he could not move from where he fell.\nIsabella, not knowing whither to resort for help, could only\nbemoan him, and chide her cruel fate. Zerbino said, \"If I could\nbut leave thee, my best beloved, in some secure abode, it would\nnot distress me to die; but to abandon thee so, without\nprotection, is sad indeed.\" She replied, \"Think not to leave me,\ndearest; our souls shall not be parted; this sword will give me\nthe means to follow thee.\" Zerbino's last words implored her to\nbanish such a thought, but live, and be true to his memory.\nIsabella promised, with many tears, to be faithful to him so long\nas life should last.\n\nWhen he ceased to breathe, Isabella's cries resounded through the\nforest, and reached the ears of a reverend hermit, who hastened to\nthe spot. He soothed and calmed her, urging those consolations\nwhich the word of God supplies; and at last brought her to wish\nfor nothing else but to devote herself for the rest of life wholly\nto religion.\n\nAs she could not bear the thoughts of leaving her dead lord\nabandoned, the body was, by the good hermit's aid, placed upon the\nhorse, and taken to the nearest inhabited place, where a chest was\nmade for it, suitable to be carried with them on their way. The\nhermit's plan was to escort his charge to a monastery, not many\ndays' journey distant, where Isabella resolved to spend the\nremainder of her days. Thus they travelled day after day, choosing\nthe most retired ways, for the country was full of armed men. One\nday a cavalier met them, and barred their way. It was no other\nthan Rodomont, king of Algiers, who had just left the camp of\nAgramant, full of indignation at the treatment he had received\nfrom Doralice. At sight of the lovely lady and her reverend\nattendant, with their horse laden with a burden draped with black,\nhe asked the meaning of their journey. Isabella told him her\naffliction, and her resolution to renounce the world and devote\nherself to religion, and to the memory of the friend she had lost.\nRodomont laughed scornfully at this, and told her that her project\nwas absurd; that charms like hers were meant to be enjoyed, not\nburied, and that he himself would more than make amends for her\ndead lover. The monk, who promptly interposed to rebuke this\nimpious talk, was commanded to hold his peace; and still\npersisting was seized by the knight and hurled over the edge of\nthe cliff, where he fell into the sea, and was drowned.\n\nRodomont, when he had got rid of the hermit, again applied to the\nsad lady, heartless with affright, and, in the language used by\nlovers, said, \"she was his very heart, his life, his light.\"\nHaving laid aside all violence, he humbly sued that she would\naccompany him to his retreat, near by. It was a ruined chapel from\nwhich the monks had been driven by the disorders of the time, and\nwhich Rodomont had taken possession of. Isabella, who had no\nchoice but to obey, followed him, meditating as she went what\nresource she could find to escape out of his power, and keep her\nvow to her dead husband, to be faithful to his memory as long as\nlife should last. At length she said, \"If, my lord, you will let\nme go and fulfil my vow, and my intention, as I have already\ndeclared it, I will bestow upon you what will be to you of more\nvalue than a hundred women's hearts. I know an herb, and I have\nseen it on our way, which, rightly prepared, affords a juice of\nsuch power, that the flesh, if laved with it, becomes impenetrable\nto sword or fire. This liquor I can make, and will, to-day, if you\nwill accept my offer; and when you have seen its virtue you will\nvalue it more than if all Europe were made your own.\"\n\nRodomont, at hearing this, readily promised all that was asked, so\neager was he to learn a secret that would make him as Achilles was\nof yore. Isabella, having collected such herbs as she thought\nproper, and boiled them, with certain mysterious signs and words,\nat length declared her labor done, and, as a test, offered to try\nits virtue on herself. She bathed her neck and bosom with the\nliquor, and then called on Rodomont to smite with all his force,\nand see whether his sword had power to harm. The pagan, who during\nthe preparations had taken frequent draughts of wine, and scarce\nknew what he did, drew his sword at the word, and struck across\nher neck with all his might, and the fair head leapt sundered from\nthe snowy neck and breast.\n\nRude and unfeeling as he was, the pagan knight lamented bitterly\nthis sad result. To honor her memory he resolved to do a work as\nunparalleled as her devotion. From all parts round he caused\nlaborers to be brought, and had a tower built to enclose the\nchapel, within which the remains of Zerbino and Isabella were\nentombed. Across the stream which flowed near by he built a\nbridge, scarce two yards wide, and added neither parapet nor rail.\nOn the top of the tower a sentry was placed, who, when any\ntraveller approached the bridge, gave notice to his master.\nRodomont thereupon sallied out, and defied the approaching knight\nto fight him upon the bridge, where any chance step a little aside\nwould plunge the rider headlong in the stream. This bridge he\nvowed to keep until a thousand suits of armor should be won from\nconquered knights, wherewith to build a trophy to his victim and\nher lord.\n\nWithin ten days the bridge was built, and the tower was in\nprogress. In a short time many knights, either seeking the\nshortest route, or tempted by a desire of adventure, had made the\nattempt to pass the bridge. All, without exception, had lost\neither arms or life, or both; some falling before Rodomont's\nlance, others precipitated into the river. One day, as Rodomont\nstood urging his workmen, it chanced that Orlando in his furious\nmood came thither, and approached the bridge. Rodomont halloed to\nhim, \"Halt, churl; presume not to set foot upon that bridge; it\nwas not made for such as you!\" Orlando took no notice, but pressed\non. Just then a gentle damsel rode up. It was Flordelis, who was\nseeking her Florismart. She saw Orlando, and, in spite of his\nstrange appearance, recognized him. Rodomont, not used to have his\ncommands disobeyed, laid hands on the madman, and would have\nthrown him into the river, but to his astonishment found himself\nin the gripe of one not so easily disposed of. \"How can a fool\nhave such strength?\" he growled between his teeth. Flordelis\nstopped to see the issue, where each of these two puissant\nwarriors strove to throw the other from the bridge. Orlando at\nlast had strength enough to lift his foe with all his armor, and\nfling him over the side, but had not wit to clear himself from\nhim, so both fell together. High flashed the wave as they together\nsmote its surface. Here Orlando had the advantage; he was naked,\nand could swim like a fish. He soon reached the bank, and,\ncareless of praise or blame, stopped not to see what came of the\nadventure. Rodomont, entangled with his armor, escaped with\ndifficulty to the bank. Meantime, Flordelis passed the bridge\nunchallenged.\n\nAfter long wandering without success she returned to Paris, and\nthere found the object of her search; for Florismart, after the\nfall of Albracca, had repaired thither. The joy of meeting was\nclouded to Florismart by the news which Flordelis brought of\nOrlando's wretched plight. The last she had seen of him was when\nhe fell with Rodomont into the stream. Florismart, who loved\nOrlando like a brother, resolved to set out immediately, under the\nguidance of the lady, to find him, and bring him where he might\nreceive the treatment suited to his case. A few days brought them\nto the place where they found the Tartar king still guarding the\nbridge. The usual challenge and defiance was made, and the knights\nrode to encounter one another on the bridge. At the first\nencounter both horses were overthrown; and, having no space to\nregain their footing, fell with their riders into the water.\nRodomont, who knew the soundings of the stream, soon recovered the\nland; but Florismart was carried downward by the current, and\nlanded at last on a bank of mud where his horse could hardly find\nfooting. Flordelis, who watched the battle from the bridge, seeing\nher lover in this piteous case, exclaimed aloud, \"Ah! Rodomont,\nfor love of her whom dead you honor, have pity on me, who love\nthis knight, and slay him not. Let it suffice he yields his armor\nto the pile, and none more glorious will it bear than his.\" Her\nprayer, so well directed, touched the pagan's heart, though hard\nto move, and he lent his aid to help the knight to land. He kept\nhim a prisoner, however, and added his armor to the pile.\nFlordelis, with a heavy heart, went her way.\n\nWe must now return to Rogero, who, when we parted with him, was\nengaged in an adventure which arrested his progress to the\nmonastery whither he was bound with the intention of receiving\nbaptism, and thus qualifying himself to demand Bradamante as his\nbride. On his way he met with Mandricardo, and the quarrel was\nrevived respecting the right to wear the badge of Hector. After a\nwarm discussion both parties agreed to submit the question to King\nAgramant, and for that purpose took their way to the Saracen camp.\nHere they met Gradasso, who had his controversy also with\nMandricardo. This warrior claimed the sword of Orlando, denying\nthe right of Mandricardo to possess it in virtue of his having\nfound it abandoned by its owner. King Agramant strove in vain to\nreconcile these quarrels, and was forced at last to consent that\nthe points in dispute should be settled by one combat, in which\nMandricardo should meet one of the other champions, to whom should\nbe committed the cause of both. Rogero was chosen by lot to\nmaintain Gradasso's cause and his own. Great preparations were\nmade for this signal contest. On the appointed day it was fought\nin the presence of Agramant, and of the whole army. Rogero won it;\nand Mandricardo, the conqueror of Hector's arms, the challenger of\nOrlando, and the slayer of Zerbino, lost his life. Gradasso\nreceived Durindana as his prize, which lost half its value in his\neyes, since it was won by another's prowess, not his own.\n\nRogero, though victorious, was severely wounded, and lay helpless\nmany weeks in the camp of Agramant, while Bradamante, ignorant of\nthe cause of his delay, expected him at Montalban. Thither he had\npromised to repair in fifteen days, or twenty at furthest, hoping\nto have obtained by that time an honorable discharge from his\nobligations to the Saracen commander. The twenty days were passed,\nand a month more, and still Rogero came not, nor did any tidings\nreach Bradamante accounting for his absence. At the end of that\ntime, a wandering knight brought news of the famous combat, and of\nRogero's wound. He added, what alarmed Bradamante still more, that\nMarphisa, a female warrior, young and fair, was in attendance on\nthe wounded knight. He added that the whole army expected that, as\nsoon as Rogero's wounds were healed, the pair would be united in\nmarriage.\n\nBradamante, distressed by this news, though she believed it but in\npart, resolved to go immediately and see for herself. She mounted\nRabican, the horse of Astolpho, which he had committed to her\ncare, and took with her the lance of gold, though unaware of its\nwonderful powers. Thus accoutred, she left the castle, and took\nthe road toward Paris and the camp of the Saracens.\n\nMarphisa, whose devotion to Rogero in his illness had so excited\nthe jealousy of Bradamante, was the twin sister of Rogero. She,\nwith him, had been taken in charge when an infant by Atlantes, the\nmagician, but while yet a child she had been stolen away by an\nArab tribe. Adopted by their chief, she had early learned\nhorsemanship and skill in arms, and at this time had come to the\ncamp of Agramant with no other view than to see and test for\nherself the prowess of the warriors of either camp, whose fame\nrang through the world. Arriving at the very moment of the late\nencounter, the name of Rogero, and some few facts of his story\nwhich she learned, were enough to suggest the idea that it was her\nbrother whom she saw victorious in the single combat. Inquiry\nsatisfied the two of their near kindred, and from that moment\nMarphisa devoted herself to the care of her new-found and much-\nloved brother.\n\nIn those moments of seclusion Rogero informed his sister of what\nhe had learned of their parentage from old Atlantes. Rogero, their\nfather, a Christian knight, had won the heart of Galaciella,\ndaughter of the Sultan of Africa, and sister of King Agramant,\nconverted her to the Christian faith, and secretly married her.\nThe Sultan, enraged at his daughter's marriage, drove her husband\ninto exile, and caused her with her infant children, Rogero and\nMarphisa, to be placed in a boat and committed to the winds and\nwaves, to perish; from which fate they were saved by Atlantes. On\nhearing this, Marphisa exclaimed, \"How can you, brother, leave our\nparents unavenged so long, and even submit to serve the son of the\ntyrant who so wronged them?\" Rogero replied that it was but lately\nhe had learned the full truth; that when he learned it he was\nalready embarked with Agramant, from whom he had received\nknighthood, and that he only waited for a suitable opportunity\nwhen he might with honor desert his standard, and at the same time\nreturn to the faith of his fathers. Marphisa hailed this\nresolution with joy, and declared her intention to join with him\nin embracing the Christian faith.\n\nWe left Bradamante when, mounted on Rabican and armed with\nAstolpho's lance, she rode forth, determined to learn the cause of\nRogero's long absence. One day, as she rode, she met a damsel, of\nvisage and of manners fair, but overcome with grief. It was\nFlordelis, who was seeking far and near a champion capable of\nliberating and avenging her lord. Flordelis marked the approaching\nwarrior, and, judging from appearances, thought she had found the\nchampion she sought. \"Are you, Sir Knight,\" she said, \"so daring\nand so kind as to take up my cause against a fierce and cruel\nwarrior who has made prisoner of my lord, and forced me thus to be\na wanderer and a suppliant?\" Then she related the events which had\nhappened at the bridge. Bradamante, to whom noble enterprises were\nalways welcome, readily embraced this, and the rather as in her\ngloomy forebodings she felt as if Rogero was forever lost to her.\n\nNext day the two arrived at the bridge. The sentry descried them\napproaching, and gave notice to his lord, who thereupon donned his\narmor and went forth to meet them. Here, as usual, he called on\nthe advancing warrior to yield his horse and arms an oblation to\nthe tomb. Bradamante replied, asking by what right he called on\nthe innocent to do penance for his crime. \"Your life and your\narmor,\" she added, \"are the fittest offering to her tomb, and I, a\nwoman, the fittest champion to take them.\" With that she couched\nher spear, spurred her horse, and ran to the encounter. King\nRodomont came on with speed. The trampling sounded on the bridge\nlike thunder. It took but a moment to decide the contest. The\ngolden lance did its office, and that fierce Moor, so renowned in\ntourney, lay extended on the bridge. \"Who is the loser now?\" said\nBradamante; but Rodomont, amazed that a woman's hand should have\nlaid him low, could not or would not answer. Silent and sad, he\nraised himself, unbound his helm and mail, and flung them against\nthe tomb; then, sullen and on foot, left the ground; but first\ngave orders to one of his squires to release all his prisoners.\nThey had been sent off to Africa. Besides Florismart, there were\nSansonnet and Oliver, who had ridden that way in quest of Orlando,\nand had both in turn been overthrown in the encounter.\n\nBradamante after her victory resumed her route, and in due time\nreached the Christian camp, where she readily learned an\nexplanation of the mystery which had caused her so much anxiety.\nRogero and his fair and brave sister, Marphisa, were too\nillustrious by their station and exploits not to be the frequent\ntopic of discourse even among their adversaries, and all that\nBradamante was anxious to know reached her ear, almost without\ninquiry.\n\nWe now return to Gradasso, who by Rogero's victory had been made\npossessor of Durindana. There now only remained to him to seek the\nhorse of Rinaldo; and the challenge, given and accepted, was yet\nto be fought with that warrior, for it had been interrupted by the\narts of Malagigi. Gradasso now sought another meeting with\nRinaldo, and met with no reluctance on his part. As the combat was\nfor the possession of Bayard, the knights dismounted and fought on\nfoot. Long time the battle lasted. Rinaldo, knowing well the\ndeadly stroke of Durindana, used all his art to parry or avoid its\nblow. Gradasso struck with might and main, but wellnigh all his\nstrokes were spent in air, or if they smote they fell obliquely\nand did little harm.\n\nThus had they fought long, glancing at one another's eyes, and\nseeing naught else, when their attention was arrested perforce by\na strange noise. They turned, and beheld the good Bayard attacked\nby a monstrous bird. Perhaps it was a bird, for such it seemed;\nbut when or where such a bird was ever seen I have nowhere read,\nexcept in Turpin; and I am inclined to believe that it was not a\nbird, but a fiend, evoked from underground by Malagigi, and\nthither sent on purpose to interrupt the fight. Whether a fiend or\na fowl, the monster flew right at Bayard, and clapped his wings in\nhis face. Thereat the steed broke loose, and ran madly across the\nplain, pursued by the bird, till Bayard plunged into the wood, and\nwas lost to sight.\n\nRinaldo and Gradasso, seeing Bayard's escape, agreed to suspend\ntheir battle till they could recover the horse, the object of\ncontention. Gradasso mounted his steed, and followed the foot-\nmarks of Bayard into the forest. Rinaldo, never more vexed in\nspirit, remained at the spot, Gradasso having promised to return\nthither with the horse, if he found him. He did find him, after\nlong search, for he had the good fortune to hear him neigh. Thus\nhe became possessed of both the objects for which he had led an\narmy from his own country, and invaded France. He did not forget\nhis promise to bring Bayard back to the place where he had left\nRinaldo, but only muttering, \"Now I have got him, he little knows\nme who expects me to give him up; if Rinaldo wants the horse let\nhim seek him in India, as I have sought him in France,\"--he made\nthe best of his way to Arles, where his vessels lay; and in\npossession of the two objects of his ambition, the horse and the\nsword, sailed away to his own country.\n\nASTOLPHO IN ABYSSINIA\n\nWhen we last parted with the adventurous paladin Astolpho, he was\njust commencing that flight over the countries of the world from\nwhich he promised himself so much gratification. Our readers are\naware that the eagle and the falcon have not so swift a flight as\nthe Hippogriff on which Astolpho rode. It was not long, therefore,\nbefore the paladin, directing his course toward the southeast,\narrived over that part of Africa where the great river Nile has\nits source. Here he alighted, and found himself in the\nneighborhood of the capital of Abyssinia, ruled by Senapus, whose\nriches and power were immense. His palace was of surpassing\nsplendor; the bars of the gates, the hinges and locks, were all of\npure gold; in fact, this metal, in that country, is put to all\nthose uses for which we employ iron. It is so common that they\nprefer for ornamental purposes rock crystal, of which all the\ncolumns were made. Precious stones of different kinds, rubies,\nemeralds, sapphires, and topazes were set in ornamental designs,\nand the walls and ceilings were adorned with pearls.\n\nIt is in this country those famous balms grow of which there are\nsome few plants in that part of Judaea called Gilead. Musk,\nambergris, and numerous gums, so precious in Europe, are here in\ntheir native climate. It is said the Sultan of Egypt pays a vast\ntribute to the monarch of this country to hire him not to cut off\nthe source of the Nile, which he might easily do, and cause the\nriver to flow in some other direction, thus depriving Egypt of the\nsource of its fertility.\n\nAt the time of Astolpho's arrival in his dominions, this monarch\nwas in great affliction. In spite of his riches and the precious\nproductions of his country, he was in danger of dying of hunger.\nHe was a prey to a flock of obscene birds called Harpies, which\nattacked him whenever he sat at meat, and with their claws\nsnatched, tore, and scattered everything, overturning the vessels,\ndevouring the food, and infecting what they left with their filthy\ntouch. It was said this punishment was inflicted upon the king\nbecause when young, and filled with pride and presumption, he had\nattempted to invade with an army the terrestrial paradise, which\nis situated on the top of a mountain whence the Nile draws its\nsource. Nor was this his only punishment. He was struck blind.\n\nAstolpho, on arriving in the dominions of this monarch, hastened\nto pay him his respects. King Senapus received him graciously, and\nordered a splendid repast to be prepared in honor of his arrival.\nWhile the guests were seated at table, Astolpho filling the place\nof dignity at the king's right hand, the horrid scream of the\nHarpies was heard in the air, and soon they approached, hovering\nover the tables, seizing the food from the dishes, and overturning\neverything with the flapping of their broad wings. In vain the\nguests struck at them with knives and any weapons which they had,\nand Astolpho drew his sword and gave them repeated blows, which\nseemed to have no more effect upon them than if their bodies had\nbeen made of tow.\n\nAt last Astolpho thought of his horn. He first gave warning to the\nking and his guests to stop their ears; then blew a blast. The\nHarpies, terrified at the sound, flew away as fast as their wings\ncould carry them. The paladin mounted his Hippogriff, and pursued\nthem, blowing his horn as often as he came near them. They\nstretched their flight towards the great mountain, at the foot of\nwhich there is a cavern, which is thought to be the mouth of the\ninfernal abodes. Hither those horrid birds flew, as if to their\nhome. Having seen them all disappear in the recess, Astolpho cared\nnot to pursue them farther, but alighting, rolled huge stones into\nthe mouth of the cave, and piled branches of trees therein, so\nthat he effectually barred their passage out, and we have no\nevidence of their ever having been seen since in the outer air.\n\nAfter this labor Astolpho refreshed himself by bathing in a\nfountain whose pure waters bubbled from a cleft of the rock.\nHaving rested awhile, an earnest desire seized him of ascending\nthe mountain which towered above him. The Hippogriff bore him\nswiftly upwards, and landed him on the top of the mountain, which\nhe found to be an extensive plain.\n\nA splendid palace rose in the middle of this plain, whose walls\nshone with such brilliancy that mortal eyes could hardly bear the\nsight. Astolpho guided the winged horse towards this edifice, and\nmade him poise himself in the air while he took a leisurely survey\nof this favored spot and its environs. It seemed as if nature and\nart had striven with one another to see which could do the most\nfor its embellishment.\n\nAstolpho, on approaching the edifice, saw a venerable man advance\nto meet him. This personage was clothed in a long vesture as white\nas snow, while a mantle of purple covered his shoulders, and hung\ndown to the ground. A white beard descended to his middle, and his\nhair, of the same color, overshadowed his shoulders. His eyes were\nso brilliant that Astolpho felt persuaded that he was a blessed\ninhabitant of the heavenly mansions.\n\nThe sage, smiling benignantly upon the paladin, who from respect\nhad dismounted from his horse, said to him: \"Noble chevalier, know\nthat it is by the Divine will you have been brought to the\nterrestrial paradise. Your mortal nature could not have borne to\nscale these heights and reach these seats of bliss if it were not\nthe will of Heaven that you should be instructed in the means to\nsuccor Charles, and to sustain the glory of our holy faith. I am\nprepared to impart the needed counsels; but before I begin let me\nwelcome you to our sojourn. I doubt not your long fast and distant\njourney have given you a good appetite.\"\n\nThe aspect of the venerable man filled the prince with admiration;\nbut his surprise ceased when he learned from him that he was that\none of the Apostles of our Lord to whom he said, \"I will that thou\ntarry till I come.\"\n\nSt. John, conducting Astolpho, rejoined his companions. These were\nthe patriarch Enoch and the prophet Elijah; neither of whom had\nyet seen his dying day, but, taken from our lower world, were\ndwelling in a region of peace and joy, in a climate of eternal\nspring, till the last trumpet shall sound.\n\nThe three holy inhabitants of the terrestrial paradise received\nAstolpho with the greatest kindness, carried him to a pleasant\napartment, and took great care of the Hippogriff, to whom they\ngave such food as suited him, while to the prince they presented\nfruits so delicious that he felt inclined to excuse our first\nparents for their sin in eating them without permission.\n\nAstolpho, having recruited his strength, not only by these\nexcellent fruits, but also by sweet sleep, roused himself at the\nfirst blush of dawn, and as soon as he left his chamber met the\nbeloved Apostle coming to seek him. St. John took him by the hand,\nand told him many things relating to the past and the future.\nAmong others, he said, \"Son, let me tell you what is now going on\nin France. Orlando, the illustrious prince who received at his\nbirth the endowment of strength and courage more than mortal,\nraised up as was Samson of old to be the champion of the true\nfaith, has been guilty of the basest ingratitude in leaving the\nChristian camp when it most needed the support of his arm, to run\nafter a Saracen princess, whom he would fain marry, though she\nscorns him. To punish him his reason has been taken away, so that\nhe runs naked through the land, over mountains and through\nvalleys, without a ray of intelligence. The duration of his\npunishment has been fixed at three months, and that time having\nnearly expired, you have been brought hither to learn from us the\nmeans by which the reason of Orlando may be restored. True, you\nwill be obliged to make a journey with me, and we must even leave\nthe earth, and ascend to the moon, for it is in that planet we are\nto seek the remedy for the madness of the paladin. I propose to\nmake our journey this evening, as soon as the moon appears over\nour head.\"\n\nAs soon as the sun sunk beneath the seas, and the moon presented\nits luminous disk, the holy man had the chariot brought out in\nwhich he was accustomed to make excursions among the stars, the\nsame which was employed long ago to convey Elijah up from earth.\nThe saint made Astolpho seat himself beside him, took the reins,\nand giving the word to the coursers, they bore them upward with\nastonishing celerity.\n\nAt length they reached the great continent of the Moon. Its\nsurface appeared to be of polished steel, with here and there a\nspot which, like rust, obscured its brightness. The paladin was\nastonished to see that the earth, with all its seas and rivers,\nseemed but an insignificant spot in the distance.\n\nThe prince discovered in this region so new to him rivers, lakes,\nplains, hills, and valleys. Many beautiful cities and castles\nenriched the landscape. He saw also vast forests, and heard in\nthem the sound of horns and the barking of dogs, which led him to\nconclude that the nymphs were following the chase.\n\nThe knight, filled with wonder at all he saw, was conducted by the\nsaint to a valley, where he stood amazed at the riches strewed all\naround him. Well he might be so, for that valley was the\nreceptacle of things lost on earth, either by men's fault, or by\nthe effect of time and chance. Let no one suppose we speak here of\nkingdoms or of treasures; they are the toys of Fortune, which she\ndispenses in turning her wheel; we speak of things which she can\nneither give nor take away. Such are reputations, which appear at\none time so brilliant, and a short time after are heard of no\nmore. Here, also, are countless vows and prayers for unattainable\nobjects, lovers' sighs and tears, time spent in gaming, dressing,\nand doing nothing, the leisure of the dull and the intentions of\nthe lazy, baseless projects, intrigues, and plots; these and such\nlike things fill all the valley.\n\nAstolpho had a great desire to understand all that he saw, and\nwhich appeared to him so extraordinary. Among the rest, he\nobserved a great mountain of blown bladders, from which issued\nindistinct noises. The saint told him these were the dynasties of\nAssyrian and Persian kings, once the wonder of the earth, of which\nnow scarce the name remains.\n\nAstolpho could not help laughing when the saint said to him, \"All\nthese hooks of silver and gold that you see are the gifts of\ncourtiers to princes, made in the hope of getting something better\nin return.\" He also showed him garlands of flowers in which snares\nwere concealed; these were flatteries and adulations, meant to\ndeceive. But nothing was so comical as the sight of numerous\ngrasshoppers which had burst their lungs with chirping. These, he\ntold him, were sonnets, odes, and dedications, addressed by venal\npoets to great people.\n\nThe paladin beheld with wonder what seemed a lake of spilled milk.\n\"It is,\" said the saint, \"the charity done by frightened misers on\ntheir death-beds.\" It would take too long to tell all that the\nvalley contained: meanness, affectations, pretended virtues, and\nconcealed vices were there in abundance.\n\nAmong the rest Astolpho perceived many days of his own lost, and\nmany imprudent sallies which he had made, and would have been glad\nnot to have been reminded of. But he also saw among so many lost\nthings a great abundance of one thing which men are apt to think\nthey all possess, and do not think it necessary to pray for,--\ngood sense. This commodity appeared under the form of a liquor,\nmost light and apt to evaporate. It was therefore kept in vials,\nfirmly sealed. One of these was labelled, \"The sense of the\nPaladin Orlando.\"\n\nAll the bottles were ticketed, and the sage placed one in\nAstolpho's hand, which he found was his own. It was more than half\nfull. He was surprised to find there many other vials which\ncontained almost the whole of the wits of many persons who passed\namong men for wise. Ah, how easy it is to lose one's reason! Some\nlose theirs by yielding to the sway of the passions; some in\nbraving tempests and shoals in search of wealth; some by trusting\ntoo much to the promises of the great; some by setting their\nhearts on trifles. As might have been expected, the bottles which\nheld the wits of astrologers, inventors, metaphysicians, and above\nall, of poets, were in general the best filled of all.\n\nAstolpho took his bottle, put it to his nose, and inhaled it all;\nand Turpin assures us that he was for a long time afterwards as\nsage as one could wish; but the Archbishop adds that there was\nreason to fear that some of the precious fluid afterwards found\nits way back into the bottle. The paladin took also the bottle\nwhich belonged to Orlando. It was a large one, and quite full.\n\nBefore quitting the planetary region Astolpho was conducted to an\nedifice on the borders of a river. He was shown an immense hall\nfull of bundles of silk, linen, cotton, and wool. A thousand\ndifferent colors, brilliant or dull, some quite black, were among\nthese skeins. In one part of the hall an old woman was busy\nwinding off yarns from all these different bundles. When she had\nfinished a skein another ancient dame took it and placed it with\nothers; a third selected from the fleeces spun, and mingled them\nin due proportions. The paladin inquired what all this might be.\n\"These old women,\" said the saint, \"are the Fates, who spin,\nmeasure, and terminate the lives of mortals. As long as the thread\nstretches in one of those skeins, so long does the mortal enjoy\nthe light of day; but nature and death are on the alert to shut\nthe eyes of those whose thread is spun.\"\n\nEach one of the skeins had a label of gold, silver, or iron,\nbearing the name of the individual to whom it belonged. An old\nman, who, in spite of the burden of years, seemed brisk and\nactive, ran without ceasing to fill his apron with these labels,\nand carried them away to throw them into the river, whose name was\nLethe. When he reached the shore of the river the old man shook\nout his apron, and the labels sunk to the bottom. A small number\nonly floated for a time, hardly one in a thousand. Numberless\nbirds, hawks, crows, and vultures hovered over the stream, with\nclamorous cries, and strove to snatch from the water some of these\nnames; but they were too heavy for them, and after a while the\nbirds were forced to let them drop into the river of oblivion. But\ntwo beautiful swans, of snowy whiteness, gathered some few of the\nnames, and returned with them to the shore, where a lovely nymph\nreceived them from their beaks, and carried them to a temple\nplaced upon a hill, and suspended them for all time upon a sacred\ncolumn, on which stood the statue of Immortality.\n\nAstolpho was amazed at all this, and asked his guide to explain\nit. He replied, \"The old man is Time. All the names upon the\ntickets would be immortal if the old man did not plunge them into\nthe river of oblivion. Those clamorous birds which make vain\nefforts to save certain of the names are flatterers, pensioners,\nvenal rhymesters, who do their best to rescue from oblivion the\nunworthy names of their patrons; but all in vain; they may keep\nthem from their fate a little while, but ere long the river of\noblivion must swallow them all.\n\n\"The swans, that with harmonious strains carry certain names to\nthe temple of Eternal Memory, are the great poets, who save from\noblivion worse than death the names of those they judge worthy of\nimmortality. Swans of this kind are rare. Let monarchs know the\ntrue breed, and fail not to nourish with care such as may chance\nto appear in their time.\"\n\nTHE WAR IN AFRICA\n\nWhen Astolpho had descended to the earth with the precious phial,\nSt. John showed him a plant of marvellous virtues, with which he\ntold him he had only to touch the eyes of the king of Abyssinia to\nrestore him to sight. \"That important service,\" said the saint,\n\"added to your having delivered him from the Harpies, will induce\nhim to give you an army wherewith to attack the Africans in their\nrear, and force them to return from France to defend their own\ncountry.\" The saint also instructed him how to lead his troops in\nsafety across the great deserts, where caravans are often\noverwhelmed with moving columns of sand. Astolpho, fortified with\nample instructions, remounted the Hippogriff, thanked the saint,\nreceived his blessing, and took his flight down to the level\ncountry.\n\nKeeping the course of the river Nile, he soon arrived at the\ncapital of Abyssinia, and rejoined Senapus. The joy of the king\nwas great when he heard again the voice of the hero who had\ndelivered him from the Harpies. Astolpho touched his eyes with the\nplant which he had brought from the terrestrial paradise, and\nrestored their sight. The king's gratitude was unbounded. He\nbegged him to name a reward, promising to grant it, whatever it\nmight be. Astolpho asked an army to go to the assistance of\nCharlemagne, and the king not only granted him a hundred thousand\nmen, but offered to lead them himself.\n\nThe night before the day appointed for the departure of the troops\nAstolpho mounted his winged horse, and directed his flight towards\na mountain, whence the fierce South-wind issues, whose blast\nraises the sands of the Nubian desert, and whirls them onward in\noverwhelming clouds. The paladin, by the advice of St. John, had\nprepared himself with a leather bag, which he placed adroitly,\nwith its mouth open, over the vent whence issues this terrible\nwind. At the first dawn of morning the wind rushed from its cavern\nto resume its daily course, and was caught in the bag, and\nsecurely tied up. Astolpho, delighted with his prize, returned to\nhis army, placed himself at their head, and commenced his march.\nThe Abyssinians traversed without danger or difficulty those vast\nfields of sand which separate their country from the kingdoms of\nNorthern Africa, for the terrible South-wind, taken completely\ncaptive, had not force enough left to blow out a candle.\n\nSenapus was distressed that he could not furnish any cavalry, for\nhis country, rich in camels and elephants, was destitute of\nhorses. This difficulty the saint had foreseen, and had taught\nAstolpho the means of remedying. He now put those means in\noperation. Having reached a place whence he beheld a vast plain\nand the sea, he chose from his troops those who appeared to be the\nbest made and the most intelligent. These he caused to be arranged\nin squadrons at the foot of a lofty mountain which bordered the\nplain, and he himself mounted to the summit to carry into effect\nhis great design. Here he found vast quantities of fragments of\nrock and pebbles. These he set rolling down the mountain's side,\nand, wonderful to relate, as they rolled they grew in size, made\nthemselves bodies, legs, necks, and long faces. Next they began to\nneigh, to curvet, to scamper on all sides over the plain. Some\nwere bay, some roan, some dapple, some chestnut. The troops at the\nfoot of the mountain exerted themselves to catch these new-created\nhorses, which they easily did, for the miracle had been so\nconsiderate as to provide all the horses with bridles and saddles.\nAstolpho thus suddenly found himself supplied with an excellent\ncorps of cavalry, not fewer (as Archbishop Turpin asserts) than\neighty thousand strong. With these troops Astolpho reduced all the\ncountry to subjection, and at last arrived before the walls of\nAgramant's capital city, Biserta, to which he laid siege.\n\nWe must now return to the camp of the Christians, which lay before\nArles, to which city the Saracens had retired after being defeated\nin a night attack led on by Rinaldo. Agramant here received the\ntidings of the invasion of his country by a fresh enemy, the\nAbyssinians, and learned that Biserta was in danger of falling\ninto their hands. He took counsel of his officers, and decided to\nsend an embassy to Charles, proposing that the whole quarrel\nshould be submitted to the combat of two warriors, one from each\nside, according to the issue of which it should be decided which\nparty should pay tribute to the other, and the war should cease.\nCharlemagne, who had not heard of the favorable turn which affairs\nhad taken in Africa, readily agreed to this proposal, and Rinaldo\nwas selected on the part of the Christians to sustain the combat.\n\nThe Saracens selected Rogero for their champion. Rogero was still\nin the Saracen camp, kept there by honor alone, for his mind had\nbeen opened to the truth of the Christian faith by the arguments\nof Bradamante, and he had resolved to leave the party of the\ninfidels on the first favorable opportunity, and to join the\nChristian side. But his honor forbade him to do this while his\nformer friends were in distress; and thus he waited for what time\nmight bring forth, when he was startled by the announcement that\nhe had been selected to uphold the cause of the Saracens against\nthe Christians, and that his foe was to be Rinaldo, the brother of\nBradamante.\n\nWhile Rogero was overwhelmed with this intelligence Bradamante on\nher side felt the deepest distress at hearing of the proposed\ncombat. If Rogero should fall she felt that no other man living\nwas worthy of her love; and if, on the other hand, Heaven should\nresolve to punish France by the death of her chosen champion,\nBradamante would have to deplore her brother, so dear to her, and\nbe no less completely severed from the object of her affections.\n\nWhile the fair lady gave herself up to these sad thoughts, the\nsage enchantress, Melissa, suddenly appeared before her. \"Fear\nnot, my daughter,\" said she, \"I shall find a way to interrupt this\ncombat which so distresses you.\"\n\nMeanwhile Rinaldo and Rogero prepared their weapons for the\nconflict. Rinaldo had the choice, and decided that it should be on\nfoot, and with no weapons but the battle-axe and poniard. The\nplace assigned was a plain between the camp of Charlemagne and the\nwalls of Arles.\n\nHardly had the dawn announced the day appointed for this memorable\ncombat, when heralds proceeded from both sides to mark the lists.\nErelong the African troops were seen to advance from the city,\nAgramant at their head; his brilliant arms adorned in the Moorish\nfashion, his horse a bay, with a white star on his forehead.\nRogero marched at his side, and some of the greatest warriors of\nthe Saracen camp attended him, bearing the various parts of his\narmor and weapons. Charlemagne, on his part, proceeded from his\nintrenchments, ranged his troops in semicircle, and stood\nsurrounded by his peers and paladins. Some of them bore portions\nof the armor of Rinaldo, the celebrated Ogier, the Dane, bearing\nthe helmet which Rinaldo took from Mambrino. Duke Namo of Bavaria\nand Salomon of Bretagne bore two axes, of equal weight, prepared\nfor the occasion.\n\nThe terms of the combat were then sworn to with the utmost\nsolemnity by all parties. It was agreed that if from either part\nany attempt was made to interrupt the battle both combatants\nshould turn their arms against the party which should be guilty of\nthe interruption; and both monarchs assented to the condition that\nin such case the champion of the offending party should be\ndischarged from his allegiance, and at liberty to transfer his\narms to the other side.\n\nWhen all the preparations were concluded the monarchs and their\nattendants retired each to his own side, and the champions were\nleft alone. The two warriors advanced with measured steps towards\neach other, and met in the middle of the space. They attacked one\nanother at the same moment, and the air resounded with the blows\nthey gave. Sparks flew from their battle-axes, while the velocity\nwith which they managed their weapons astonished the beholders.\nRogero, always remembering that his antagonist was the brother of\nhis betrothed, could not aim a deadly wound; he strove only to\nward off those levelled against himself. Rinaldo, on the other\nhand, much as he esteemed Rogero, spared not his blows, for he\neagerly desired victory for his own sake, and for the sake of his\ncountry and his faith.\n\nThe Saracens soon perceived that their champion fought feebly, and\ngave not to Rinaldo such blows as he received from him. His\ndisadvantage was so marked that anxiety and shame were manifest on\nthe countenance of Agramant. Melissa, one of the most acute\nenchantresses that ever lived, seized this moment to disguise\nherself under the form of Rodomont, that rude and impetuous\nwarrior, who had now for some time been absent from the Saracen\ncamp. Approaching Agramant, she said, \"How could you, my lord,\nhave the imprudence of selecting a young man without experience to\noppose the most redoubtable warrior of France? Surely you must\nhave been regardless of the honor of your arms, and of the fate of\nyour empire! But it is not too late. Break without delay the\nagreement which is sure to result in your ruin.\" So saying, she\naddressed the troops who stood near, \"Friends,\" said she, \"follow\nme; under my guidance every one of you will be a match for a score\nof those feeble Christians.\" Agramant, delighted at seeing\nRodomont once more at his side, gave his consent, and the\nSaracens, at the instant, couched their lances, set spurs to their\nsteeds, and swept down upon the French. Melissa, when she saw her\nwork successful, disappeared.\n\nRinaldo and Rogero, seeing the truce broken, and the two armies\nengaged in general conflict, stopped their battle; their martial\nfury ceased at once, they joined hands, and resolved to act no\nmore on either side until it should be clearly ascertained which\nparty had failed to observe its oath. Both renewed their promise\nto abandon forever the party which had been thus false and\nperjured.\n\nMeanwhile, the Christians, after the first moment of surprise, met\nthe Saracens with courage redoubled by rage at the treachery of\ntheir foes. Guido the Wild, brother and rival of Rinaldo, Griffon\nand Aquilant, sons of Oliver, and numerous others whose names have\nalready been celebrated in our recitals, beat back the assailants,\nand at last, after prodigious slaughter, forced them to take\nshelter within the walls of Arles.\n\nWe will now return to Orlando, whom we last heard of as furiously\nmad, and doing a thousand acts of violence in his senseless rage.\nOne day he came to the borders of a stream which intercepted his\ncourse. He swam across it, for he could swim like an otter, and on\nthe other side saw a peasant watering his horse. He seized the\nanimal, in spite of the resistance of the peasant, and rode it\nwith furious speed till he arrived at the sea-coast, where Spain\nis divided from Africa by only a narrow strait. At the moment of\nhis arrival a vessel had just put off to cross the strait. She was\nfull of people who, with glass in hand, seemed to be taking a\nmerry farewell of the land, wafted by a favorable breeze.\n\nThe frantic Orlando cried out to them to stop and take him in; but\nthey, having no desire to admit a madman to their company, paid\nhim no attention. The paladin thought this behavior very uncivil;\nand by force of blows made his horse carry him into the water in\npursuit of the ship. The wretched animal soon had only his head\nabove water; but as Orlando urged him forward, nothing was left\nfor the poor beast but either to die or swim over to Africa.\n\nAlready Orlando had lost sight of the bark; distance and the swell\nof the sea completely hid it from his sight. He continued to press\nhis horse forward, till at last it could struggle no more, and\nsunk beneath him. Orlando, nowise concerned, stretched out his\nnervous arms, puffing the salt water from before his mouth, and\ncarried his head above the waves. Fortunately they were not rough,\nscarce a breath of wind agitated the surface; otherwise, the\ninvincible Orlando would then have met his death. But fortune,\nwhich it is said favors fools, delivered him from this danger, and\nlanded him safe on the shore of Ceuta. Here he rambled along the\nshore till he came to where the black army of Astolpho held its\ncamp.\n\nNow it happened, just before this time, that a vessel filled with\nprisoners which Rodomont had taken at the bridge had arrived, and,\nnot knowing of the presence of the Abyssinian army, had sailed\nright into port, where of course the prisoners and their captors\nchanged places, the former being set at liberty and received with\nall joy, the latter sent to serve in the galleys. Astolpho thus\nfound himself surrounded with Christian knights, and he and his\nfriends were exchanging greetings and felicitations, when a noise\nwas heard in the camp, and seemed to increase every moment.\n\nAstolpho and his friends seized their weapons, mounted their\nhorses, and rode to the quarter whence the noise proceeded.\nImagine their astonishment when they saw that the tumult was\ncaused by a single man, perfectly naked, and browned with dirt and\nexposure, but of a force and fury so terrible that he overturned\nall that offered to lay hands on him.\n\nAstolpho, Dudon, Oliver, and Florimart gazed at him with\namazement. It was with difficulty they knew him. Astolpho, who had\nbeen warned of his condition by his holy monitor, was the first to\nrecognize him. As the paladins closed round Orlando, the madman\ndealt one and another a blow of his fist, which, if they had not\nbeen in armor, or he had had any weapon, would probably have\ndespatched them; as it was, Dudon and Astolpho measured their\nlength on the sand. But Florimart seized him from behind,\nSansonnet and another grasped his legs, and at last they succeeded\nin securing him with ropes. They took him to the water-side and\nwashed him well, and then Astolpho, having first bandaged his\nmouth so that he could not breathe except through his nose,\nbrought the precious phial, uncorked it, and placed it adroitly\nunder his nostrils, when the good Orlando took it all up in one\nbreath. O marvellous prodigy! The paladin recovered in an instant\nall his intelligence. He felt like one who had awakened from a\npainful dream, in which he had believed that monsters were about\nto tear him to pieces. He seemed prostrated, silent, and abashed.\nFlorismart, Oliver, and Astolpho stood gazing upon him, while he\nturned his eyes around and on himself. He seemed surprised to find\nhimself naked, bound, and stretched on the sea-shore. After a few\nmoments he recognized his friends, and spoke to them in a tone so\ntender that they hastened to unbind him, and to supply him with\ngarments. Then they exerted themselves to console him, to diminish\nthe weight with which his spirits were oppressed, and to make him\nforget the wretched condition into which he had been sunk.\n\nOrlando, in recovering his reason, found himself also delivered\nfrom his insane attachment to the queen of Cathay. His heart felt\nnow no further influenced by the recollection of her than to be\nmoved with an ardent desire to retrieve his fame by some\ndistinguished exploit. Astolpho would gladly have yielded to him\nthe chief command of the army, but Orlando would not take from the\nfriend to whom he owed so much the glory of the campaign; but in\neverything the two paladins acted in concert, and united their\ncounsels. They proposed to make a general assault on the city of\nBiserta, and were only waiting a favorable moment, when their plan\nwas interrupted by new events.\n\nAgramant, after the bloody battle which followed the infraction of\nthe truce, found himself so weak that he saw it was in vain to\nattempt to remain in France. So, in concert with Sobrino, the\nbravest and most trusted of his chiefs, he embarked to return to\nhis own country, having previously sent off his few remaining\ntroops in the same direction. The vessel which carried Agramant\nand Sobrino approached the shore where the army of Astolpho lay\nencamped before Biserta, and having discovered this fact before it\nwas too late, the king commanded the pilot to steer eastward, with\na view to seek protection of the King of Egypt. But the weather\nbecoming rough, he consented to the advice of his companions, and\nsought harbor in an island which lies between Sicily and Africa.\nThere he found Gradasso, the warlike king of Sericane, who had\ncome to France to possess himself of the horse Bayard and the\nsword Durindana; and having procured both these prizes was\nreturning to his own country.\n\nThe two kings, who had been companions in arms under the walls of\nParis, embraced one another affectionately. Gradasso learned with\nregret the reverses of Agramant, and offered him his troops and\nhis person. He strongly deprecated resorting to Egypt for aid.\n\"Remember the great Pompey,\" said he, \"and shun that fatal shore.\nMy plan,\" he continued, \"is this: I mean to challenge Orlando to\nsingle combat. Possessed of such a sword and steed as mine, if he\nwere made of steel or bronze, he could not escape me. He being\nremoved, there will be no difficulty in driving back the\nAbyssinians. We will rouse against them the Moslem nations from\nthe other side of the Nile, the Arabians, Persians, and Chaldeans,\nwho will soon make Senapus recall his army to defend his own\nterritories.\"\n\nAgramant approved this advice except in one particular. \"It is for\nme,\" said he, \"to combat Orlando; I cannot with honor devolve that\nduty on another.\"\n\n\"Let us adopt a third course,\" said the aged warrior Sobrino. \"I\nwould not willingly remain a simple spectator of such a contest.\nLet us send three squires to the shore of Africa to challenge\nOrlando and any two of his companions in arms to meet us three in\nthis island of Lampedusa.\"\n\nThis counsel was adopted; the three squires sped on their way; and\nnow presented themselves, and rehearsed their message to the\nChristian knights.\n\nOrlando was delighted, and rewarded the squires with rich gifts.\nHe had already resolved to seek Gradasso and compel him to restore\nDurindana, which he had learned was in his possession. For his two\ncompanions the Count chose his faithful friend Florismart and his\ncousin Oliver.\n\nThe three warriors embarked, and sailing with a favorable wind,\nthe second morning showed them, on their right, the island where\nthis important battle was to be fought. Orlando and his two\ncompanions, having landed, pitched their tent. Agramant had placed\nhis opposite.\n\nNext morning, as soon as Aurora brightened the edges of the\nhorizon, the warriors of both parties armed themselves and mounted\ntheir horses. They took their positions, face to face, lowered\ntheir lances, placed them in rest, clapped spurs to their horses,\nand flew to the charge. Orlando met the charge of Gradasso. The\npaladin was unmoved, but his horse could not sustain the terrible\nshock of Bayard. He recoiled, staggered, and fell some paces\nbehind. Orlando tried to raise him, but, finding his efforts\nunavailing, seized his shield, and drew his famous Balisardo.\nMeanwhile Agramant and the brave Oliver gained no advantage, one\nor the other; but Florismart unhorsed the King Sobrino. Having\nbrought his foe to the ground, he would not pursue his victory,\nbut hastened to attack Gradasso, who had overthrown Orlando.\nSeeing him thus engaged, Orlando would not interfere, but ran with\nsword upraised upon Sobrino, and with one blow deprived him of\nsense and motion. Believing him dead, he next turned to aid his\nbeloved Florismart. That brave paladin, neither in horse nor arms\nequal to his antagonist, could but parry and evade the blows of\nthe terrible Durindana. Orlando, eager to succor him, was delayed\nfor a moment in securing and mounting the horse of the King\nSobrino. It was but an instant, and with sword upraised, he rushed\nupon Gradasso who, noways disconcerted at the onset of this second\nfoe, shouted his defiance, and thrust at him with his sword, but,\nhaving miscalculated the distance, scarcely reached him, and\nfailed to pierce his mail. Orlando, in return, dealt him a blow\nwith Balisardo, which wounded as it fell face, breast, and thigh,\nand, if he had been a little nearer, would have cleft him in\ntwain. Sobrino, by this time recovered from his swoon, though\nseverely wounded, raised himself on his legs, and looked to see\nhow he might aid his friends. Observing Agramant hard pressed by\nOliver, he thrust his sword into the bowels of the latter's horse,\nwhich fell, and bore down his master, entangling his leg as he\nfell, so that Oliver could not extricate himself. Florismart saw\nthe danger of his friend, and ran upon Sobrino with his horse,\noverthrew him, and then turned to defend himself from Agramant.\nThey were not unequally matched, for though Agramant, mounted on\nBrigliadoro, had an advantage over Florismart, whose horse was but\nindifferent, yet Agramant had received a serious wound in his\nencounter with Oliver.\n\nNothing could exceed the fury of the encounter between Orlando and\nGradasso. Durindana, in the hands of Gradasso, clove asunder\nwhatever it struck; but such was the skill of Orlando, who\nperfectly knew the danger to which he was exposed from a stroke of\nthat weapon, it had not yet struck him in such a way as to inflict\na wound. Meanwhile, Gradasso was bleeding from many wounds, and\nhis rage and incaution increased every moment. In his desperation\nhe lifted Durindana with both hands, and struck so terrible a blow\nfull on the helmet of Orlando, that for a moment it stunned the\npaladin. He dropped the reins, and his frightened horse scoured\nwith him over the plain. Gradasso turned to pursue him, but at\nthat moment saw Florismart in the very act of striking a fatal\nblow at Agramant, whom he had unhorsed. While Florismart was\nwholly intent upon completing his victory, Gradasso plunged his\nsword into his side. Florismart fell from his horse, and bathed\nthe plain with his blood.\n\nOrlando recovered himself just in time to see the deed. Whether\nrage or grief predominated in his breast, I cannot tell; but,\nseizing Balisardo with fury, his first blow fell upon Agramant,\nwho was nearest to him, and smote his head from his shoulders. At\nthis sight Gradasso for the first time felt his courage sink, and\na dark presentiment of death came over him. He hardly stood on his\ndefence when Orlando cast himself upon him, and gave him a fatal\nthrust. The sword penetrated his ribs, and came out a palm's\nbreadth on the other side of his body.\n\nThus fell beneath the sword of the most illustrious paladin of\nFrance the bravest warrior of the Saracen host. Orlando then, as\nif despising his victory, leaped lightly to the ground, and ran to\nhis dear friend Florismart, embraced him, and bathed him with his\ntears. Florismart still breathed. He could even command his voice\nto utter a few parting words: \"Dear friend, do not forget me,--\ngive me your prayers,--and oh! be a brother to Flordelis.\" He died\nin uttering her name.\n\nAfter a few moments given to grief Orlando turned to look for his\nother companion and his late foes. Oliver lay oppressed with the\nweight of his horse, from which he had in vain struggled to\nliberate himself. Orlando extricated him with difficulty; he then\nraised Sobrino from the earth, and committed him to his squire,\ntreating him as gently as if he had been his own brother. For this\nterrible warrior was the most generous of men to a fallen foe. He\ntook Bayard and Brigliadoro, with the arms of the conquered\nknights; their bodies and their other spoils he remitted to their\nattendants.\n\nBut who can tell the grief of Flordelis when she saw the warriors\nreturn, and found not Florismart as usual after absence hasten to\nher side. She knew by the aspect of the others that her lord was\nslain. At the thought, and before the question could pass her\nlips, she fell senseless upon the ground. When life returned, and\nshe learned the truth of her worst fears, she bitterly upbraided\nherself that she had let him depart without her. \"I might have\nsaved him by a single cry when his enemy dealt him that\ntreacherous blow, or I might have thrown myself between and given\nmy worthless life for his. Or if no more, I might have heard his\nlast words, I might have given him a last kiss.\" So she lamented,\nand could not be comforted.\n\nROGERO AND BRADAMANTE\n\nAfter the interruption of the combat with Rinaldo, as we have\nrelated, Rogero was perplexed with doubts what course to take. The\nterms of the treaty required him to abandon Agramant, who had\nbroken it, and to transfer his allegiance to Charlemagne; and his\nlove for Bradamante called him in the same direction; but\nunwillingness to desert his prince and leader in the hour of\ndistress forbade this course. Embarking, therefore, for Africa, he\ntook his way to rejoin the Saracen army; but was arrested midway\nby a storm which drove the vessel on a rock. The crew took to\ntheir boat, but that was quickly swamped in the waves, and Rogero\nwith the rest were compelled to swim for their lives. Then while\nbuffeting the waves Rogero bethought him of his sin in so long\ndelaying his Christian profession, and vowed in his heart that, if\nhe should live to reach the land, he would no longer delay to be\nbaptized. His vows were heard and answered; he succeeded in\nreaching the shore, and was aided and relieved on landing by a\npious hermit, whose cell overlooked the sea. From him he received\nbaptism, having first passed some days with him, partaking his\nhumble fare, and receiving instruction in the doctrines of the\nChristian faith.\n\nWhile these things were going on, Rinaldo, who had set out on his\nway to seek Gradasso and recover Bayard from him, hearing on his\nway of the great things which were doing in Africa, repaired\nthither to bear his part in them. He arrived too late to do more\nthan join his friends in lamenting the loss of Florismart, and to\nrejoice with them in their victory over the Pagan knights. On the\ndeath of their king the Africans gave up the contest, Biserta\nsubmitted, and the Christian knights had only to dismiss their\nforces, and return home. Astolpho took leave of his Abyssinian\narmy, and sent them back laden with spoil to their own country,\nnot forgetting to intrust to them the bag which held the winds, by\nmeans of which they were enabled to cross the sandy desert again\nwithout danger, and did not untie it till they reached their own\ncountry.\n\nOrlando now, with Oliver, who much needed the surgeon's care, and\nSobrino, to whom equal attention was shown, sailed in a swift\nvessel to Sicily, bearing with him the body of Florismart, to be\nlaid in Christian earth. Rinaldo accompanied them, as did\nSansonnet and the other Christian leaders. Arrived at Sicily, the\nfuneral was solemnized with all the rites of religion, and with\nthe profound grief of those who had known Florismart, or had heard\nof his fame. Then they resumed their course, steering for\nMarseilles. But Oliver's wound grew worse instead of better, and\nhis sufferings so distressed his friends that they conferred\ntogether, not knowing what to do. Then said the pilot, \"We are not\nfar from an isle where a holy hermit dwells alone in the midst of\nthe sea. It is said none seek his counsel or his aid in vain. He\nhath wrought marvellous cures, and if you resort to that holy man\nwithout doubt he can heal the knight.\" Orlando bade him steer\nthither, and soon the bark was laid safely beside the lonely rock;\nthe wounded man was lowered into their boat, and carried by the\ncrew to the hermit's cell. It was the same hermit with whom Rogero\nhad taken refuge after his shipwreck, by whom he had been\nbaptized, and with whom he was now staying, absorbed in sacred\nstudies and meditations.\n\nThe holy man received Orlando and the rest with kindness, and\ninquired their errand; and being told that they had come for help\nfor one who, warring for the Christian faith, was brought to\nperilous pass by a sad wound, he straightway undertook the cure.\nHis applications were simple, but they were seconded by his\nprayers. The paladin was soon relieved from pain, and in a few\ndays his foot was perfectly restored to soundness. Sobrino, as\nsoon as he perceived the holy monk perform that wonder, cast aside\nhis false prophet, and with contrite heart owned the true God, and\ndemanded baptism at his hands. The hermit granted his request, and\nalso by his prayers restored him to health, while all the\nChristian knights rejoiced in his conversion almost as much as at\nthe restoration of Oliver. More than all Rogero felt joy and\ngratitude, and daily grew in grace and faith.\n\nRogero was known by fame to all the Christian knights, but not\neven Rinaldo knew him by sight, though he had proved his prowess\nin combat. Sobrino made him known to them, and great was the joy\nof all when they found one whose valor and courtesy were renowned\nthrough the world no longer an enemy and unbeliever, but a convert\nand champion of the true faith. All press about the knight; one\ngrasps his hand, another locks him fast in his embrace; but more\nthan all the rest, Rinaldo cherished him, for he more than any\nknew his worth.\n\nIt was not long before Rogero confided to his friend the hopes he\nentertained of a union with his sister, and Rinaldo frankly gave\nhis sanction to the proposal. But causes unknown to the paladin\nwere at that very time interposing obstacles to its success.\n\nThe fame of the beauty and worth of Bradamante had reached the\nears of the Grecian Emperor, Constantine, and he had sent to\nCharlemagne to demand the hand of his niece for Leo, his son, and\nthe heir to his dominions. Duke Aymon, her father, had only\nreserved his consent until he should first have spoken with his\nson Rinaldo, now absent.\n\nThe warriors now prepared to resume their voyage. Rogero took a\ntender farewell of the good hermit who had taught him the true\nfaith. Orlando restored to him the horse and arms which were\nrightly his, not even asserting his claim to Balisarda, that sword\nwhich he himself had won from the enchantress.\n\nThe hermit gave his blessing to the band, and they reembarked. The\npassage was speedy, and very soon they arrived in the harbor of\nMarseilles.\n\nAstolpho, when he had dismissed his troops, mounted the\nHippogriff, and at one flight shot over to Sardinia, thence to\nCorsica, thence, turning slightly to the left, hovered over\nProvence, and alighted in the neighborhood of Marseilles. There he\ndid what he had been commanded to do by the holy saint; he\nunbridled the Hippogriff, and turned him loose to seek his own\nretreats, never more to be galled with saddle or bit. The horn had\nlost its marvellous power ever since the visit to the moon.\n\nAstolpho reached Marseilles the very day when Orlando, Rinaldo,\nOliver, Sobrino, and Rogero arrived there. Charles had already\nheard the news of the defeat of the Saracen kings, and all the\naccompanying events. On learning the approach of the gallant\nknights, he sent forward some of his most illustrious nobles to\nreceive them, and himself, with the rest of his court, kings,\ndukes, and peers, the queen, and a fair and gorgeous band of\nladies, set forward from Arles to meet them.\n\nNo sooner were the mutual greetings interchanged, than Orlando and\nhis friends led forward Rogero, and presented him to the Emperor.\nThey vouch him son of Rogero, Duke of Risa, one of the most\nrenowned of Christian warriors, by adverse fortune stolen in his\ninfancy, and brought up by Saracens in the false faith, now by a\nkind Providence converted, and restored to fill the place his\nfather once held among the foremost champions of the throne and\nChurch.\n\nRogero had alighted from his horse, and stood respectfully before\nthe Emperor. Charlemagne bade him remount and ride beside him; and\nomitted nothing which might do him honor in sight of his martial\ntrain. With pomp triumphal and with festive cheer the troop\nreturned to the city; the streets were decorated with garlands,\nthe houses hung with rich tapestry, and flowers fell like rain\nupon the conquering host from the hands of fair dames and damsels,\nfrom every balcony and window. So welcomed, the mighty Emperor\npassed on till he reached the royal palace, where many days he\nfeasted, high in hall, with his lords, amid tourney, revel, dance,\nand song.\n\nWhen Rinaldo told his father, Duke Aymon, how he had promised his\nsister to Rogero, his father heard him with indignation, having\nset his heart on seeing her united to the Grecian Emperor's son.\nThe Lady Beatrice, her mother, also appealed to Bradamante herself\nto reject a knight who had neither title nor lands, and give the\npreference to one who would make her Empress of the wide Levant.\nBut Bradamante, though respect forbade her to refuse her mother's\nentreaty, would not promise to do what her heart repelled, and\nanswered only with a sigh, until she was alone, and then gave a\nloose to tears.\n\nMeanwhile Rogero, indignant that a stranger should presume to rob\nhim of his bride, determined to seek the Prince of Greece, and\ndefy him to mortal combat. With this design he donned his armor,\nbut exchanged his crest and emblazonment, and bore instead a white\nunicorn upon a crimson field. He chose a trusty squire, and,\ncommanding him not to address him as Rogero, rode on his quest.\nHaving crossed the Rhine and the Austrian countries into Hungary,\nhe followed the course of the Danube till he reached Belgrade.\nThere he saw the imperial ensigns spread, and white pavilions,\nthronged with troops, before the town. For the Emperor Constantine\nwas laying siege to the city to recover it from the Bulgarians,\nwho had taken it from him not long before.\n\nA river flowed between the camp of the Emperor and the Bulgarians,\nand at the moment when Rogero approached, a skirmish had begun\nbetween the parties from either camp, who had approached the\nstream for the purpose of watering. The Greeks in that affray were\nfour to one, and drove back the Bulgarians in precipitate rout.\nRogero, seeing this, and animated only by his hatred of the\nGrecian prince, dashed into the middle of the flying mass, calling\naloud on the fugitives to turn. He encountered first a leader of\nthe Grecian host in splendid armor, a nephew of the Emperor, as\ndear to him as a son. Rogero's lance pierced shield and armor, and\nstretched the warrior breathless on the plain. Another and another\nfell before him, and astonishment and terror arrested the advance\nof the Greeks, while the Bulgarians, catching courage from the\ncavalier, rally, change front, and chase the Grecian troops, who\nfly in their turn. Leo, the prince, was at a distance when this\nsudden skirmish rose, but not so far but that he could see\ndistinctly, from an elevated position which he held, how the\nchanged battle was all the work of one man, and could not choose\nbut admire the bravery and prowess with which it was done. He knew\nby the blazonry displayed that the champion was not of the\nBulgarian army, though he furnished aid to them. Although he\nsuffered by his valor, the prince could not wish him ill, for his\nadmiration surpassed his resentment. By this time the Greeks had\nregained the river, and crossing it by fording or swimming, some\nmade their escape, leaving many more prisoners in the hands of the\nBulgarians. Rogero, learning from some of the captives that Leo\nwas at a point some distance down the river, rode thither with a\nview to meet him, but arrived not before the Greek prince had\nretired beyond the stream, and broken up the bridge. Day was\nspent, and Rogero, wearied, looked round for a shelter for the\nnight. He found it in a cottage, where he soon yielded himself to\nrepose. It so happened, a knight who had narrowly escaped Rogero's\nsword in the late battle also found shelter in the same cottage,\nand, recognizing the armor of the unknown knight, easily found\nmeans of securing him as he slept, and next morning carried him in\nchains and delivered him to the Emperor. By him he was in turn\ndelivered to his sister Theodora, mother of the young knight, the\nfirst victim of Rogero's spear. By her he was cast into a dungeon,\ntill her ingenuity could devise a death sufficiently painful to\nsatiate her revenge.\n\nBradamante, meanwhile, to escape her father's and mother's\nimportunity, had begged a boon of Charlemagne, which the monarch\npledged his royal word to grant; it was that she should not be\ncompelled to marry any one unless he should first vanquish her in\nsingle combat. The Emperor therefore proclaimed a tournament in\nthese words: \"He that would wed Duke Aymon's daughter must contend\nwith the sword against that dame, from the sun's rise to his\nsetting; and if, in that time, he is not overcome the lady shall\nbe his.\"\n\nDuke Aymon and the Lady Beatrice, though much incensed at the\ncourse things had taken, brought their daughter to court, to await\nthe day appointed for the tournament. Bradamante, not finding\nthere him whom her heart required, distressed herself with doubts\nwhat could be the cause of his absence. Of all fancies, the most\npainful one was that he had gone away to learn to forget her,\nknowing her father's and her mother's opposition to their union,\nand despairing to contend against them. But oh, how much worse\nwould be the maiden's woe, if it were known to her what her\nbetrothed was then enduring!\n\nHe was plunged in a dungeon where no ray of daylight ever\npenetrated, loaded with chains, and scantily supplied with the\ncoarsest food. No wonder despair took possession of his heart, and\nhe longed for death as a relief, when one night (or one day, for\nboth were equally dark to him) he was roused with the glare of a\ntorch and saw two men enter his cell. It was the Prince Leo, with\nan attendant, who had come as soon as he had learned the wretched\nfate of the brave knight whose valor he had seen and admired on\nthe field of battle. \"Cavalier,\" said he, \"I am one whom thy valor\nhath so bound to thee, that I willingly peril my own safety to\nlend thee aid.\" \"Infinite thanks I owe you,\" replied Rogero, \"and\nthe life you give me I promise faithfully to render back upon your\ncall, and promptly to stake it at all times for your service.\" The\nprince then told Rogero his name and rank, at hearing which a tide\nof contending emotions almost overwhelmed Rogero. He was set at\nliberty, and had his horse and arms restored to him.\n\nMeanwhile, tidings arrived of King Charles' decree that whoever\naspired to the hand of Bradamante must first encounter her with\nsword and lance. This news made the Grecian prince turn pale, for\nhe knew he was no match for her in fight. Communing with himself,\nhe sees how he may make his wit supply the place of valor, and\nemploy the French knight, whose name was still unknown to him, to\nfight the battle for him. Rogero heard the proposal with extreme\ndistress; yet it seemed worse than death to deny the first request\nof one to whom he owed his life. Hastily he gave his assent \"to do\nin all things that which Leo should command.\" Afterward, bitter\nrepentance came over him; yet, rather than confess his change of\nmind, death itself would be welcome. Death seems his only remedy;\nbut how to die? Sometimes he thinks to make none but a feigned\nresistance, and allow her sword a ready access, for never can\ndeath come more happily than if her hand guide the weapon. Yet\nthis will not avail, for, unless he wins the maid for the Greek\nprince, his debt remains unpaid. He had promised to maintain a\nreal, not a feigned encounter. He will then keep his word, and\nbanish every thought from his bosom except that which moved him to\nmaintain his truth.\n\nThe young prince, richly attended, set out, and with him Rogero.\nThey arrived at Paris, but Leo preferred not to enter the city,\nand pitched his tents without the walls, making known his arrival\nto Charlemagne by an embassy. The monarch was pleased, and\ntestified his courtesy by visits and gifts. The prince set forth\nthe purpose of his coming, and prayed the Emperor to dispatch his\nsuit--\"to send forth the damsel who refused ever to take in\nwedlock any lord inferior to herself in fight; for she should be\nhis bride, or he would perish beneath her sword.\"\n\nRogero passed the night before the day assigned for the battle\nlike that which the felon spends, condemned to pay the forfeit of\nhis life on the ensuing day. He chose to fight with sword only,\nand on foot, for he would not let her see Frontino, knowing that\nshe would recognize the steed. Nor would he use Balisarda, for\nagainst that enchanted blade all armor would be of no avail, and\nthe sword that he did take he hammered well upon the edge to abate\nits sharpness. He wore the surcoat of Prince Leo, and his shield,\nemblazoned with a golden, double-headed eagle. The prince took\ncare to let himself be seen by none.\n\nBradamante, meanwhile, prepared herself for the combat far\ndifferently. Instead of blunting the edge of her falchion she\nwhets the steel, and would fain infuse into it her own acerbity.\nAs the moment approached she seemed to have fire within her veins,\nand waited impatiently for the trumpet's sound. At the signal she\ndrew her sword, and fell with fury upon her Rogero. But as a well-\nbuilt wall or aged rock stands unmoved the fury of the storm, so\nRogero, clad in those arms which Trojan Hector once wore,\nwithstood the strokes which stormed about his head and breast and\nflank. Sparks flew from his shield, his helm, his cuirass; from\ndirect and back strokes, aimed now high, now low, falling thick\nand fast, like hailstones on a cottage roof; but Rogero, with\nskilful ward, turns them aside, or receives them where his armor\nis a sure protection, careful only to protect himself, and with no\nthought of striking in return. Thus the hours passed away, and, as\nthe sun approached the west, the damsel began to despair. But so\nmuch the more her anger increases, and she redoubles her efforts,\nlike the craftsman who sees his work unfinished while the day is\nwellnigh spent. O miserable damsel! didst thou know whom thou\nwouldst kill,--if, in that cavalier matched against thee thou\ndidst but know Rogero, on whom thy very life-threads hang, rather\nthan kill him thou wouldst kill thyself, for he is dearer to thee\nthan life.\n\nKing Charles and the peers, who thought the cavalier to be the\nGrecian prince, viewing such force and skill exhibited, and how\nwithout assaulting her the knight defended himself, were filled\nwith admiration, and declared the champions well matched, and\nworthy of each other.\n\nWhen the sun was set Charlemagne gave the signal for terminating\nthe contest, and Bradamante was awarded to Prince Leo as a bride.\nRogero, in deep distress, returned to his tent. There Leo unlaced\nhis helmet, and kissed him on both cheeks. \"Henceforth,\" said he,\n\"do with me as you please, for you cannot exhaust my gratitude.\"\nRogero replied little, laid aside the ensigns he had worn, and\nresumed the unicorn, then hasted to withdraw himself from all\neyes. When it was midnight he rose, saddled Frontino, and sallied\nfrom his tent, taking that direction which pleased his steed. All\nnight he rode absorbed in bitter woe, and called on Death as alone\ncapable of relieving his sufferings. At last he entered a forest,\nand penetrated into its deepest recesses. There he unharnessed\nFrontino, and suffered him to wander where he would. Then he threw\nhimself down on the ground, and poured forth such bitter wailings\nthat the birds and beasts, for none else heard him, were moved to\npity with his cries.\n\nNot less was the distress of the lady Bradamante, who, rather than\nwed any one but Rogero, resolved to break her word, and defy\nkindred, court, and Charlemagne himself; and, if nothing else\nwould do, to die. But relief came from an unexpected quarter.\nMarphisa, sister of Rogero, was a heroine of warlike prowess equal\nto Bradamante. She had been the confidante of their loves, and\nfelt hardly less distress than themselves at seeing the perils\nwhich threatened their union. \"They are already united by mutual\nvows,\" she said, \"and in the sight of Heaven what more is\nnecessary?\" Full of this thought she presented herself before\nCharlemagne, and declared that she herself was witness that the\nmaiden had spoken to Rogero those words which they who marry\nswear; and that the compact was so sealed between the pair that\nthey were no longer free, nor could forsake the one the other to\ntake another spouse. This her assertion she offered to prove, in\nsingle combat, against Prince Leo, or any one else.\n\nCharlemagne, sadly perplexed at this, commanded Bradamante to be\ncalled, and told her what the bold Marphisa had declared.\nBradamante neither denied nor confirmed the statement, but hung\nher head, and kept silence. Duke Aymon was enraged, and would fain\nhave set aside the pretended contract on the ground that, if made\nat all, it must have been made before Rogero was baptized, and\ntherefore void. But not so thought Rinaldo, nor the good Orlando,\nand Charlemagne knew not which way to decide, when Marphisa spoke\nthus:\n\n\"Since no one else can marry the maiden while my brother lives,\nlet the prince meet Rogero in mortal combat, and let him who\nsurvives take her for his bride.\"\n\nThis saying pleased the Emperor, and was accepted by the prince,\nfor he thought that, by the aid of his unknown champion, he should\nsurely triumph in the fight. Proclamation was therefore made for\nRogero to appear and defend his suit; and Leo, on his part, caused\nsearch to be made on all sides for the knight of the Unicorn.\n\nMeanwhile Rogero, overwhelmed with despair, lay stretched on the\nground in the forest night and day without food, courting death.\nHere he was discovered by one of Leo's people, who, finding him\nresist all attempts to remove him, hastened to his master, who was\nnot far off, and brought him to the spot. As he approached he\nheard words which convinced him that love was the cause of the\nknight's despair; but no clew was given to guide him to the object\nof that love. Stooping down, the prince embraced the weeping\nwarrior, and, in the tenderest accents, said: \"Spare not, I\nentreat you, to disclose the cause of your distress, for few such\ndesperate evils betide mankind as are wholly past cure. It grieves\nme much that you would hide your grief from me, for I am bound to\nyou by ties that nothing can undo. Tell me, then, your grief, and\nleave me to try if wealth, art, cunning, force, or persuasion\ncannot relieve you. If not, it will be time enough after all has\nbeen tried in vain to die.\"\n\nHe spoke in such moving accents that Rogero could not choose but\nyield. It was some time before he could command utterance; at last\nhe said, \"My lord, when you shall know me for what I am, I doubt\nnot you, like myself, will be content that I should die. Know,\nthen, I am that Rogero whom you have so much cause to hate, and\nwho so hated you that, intent on putting you to death, he went to\nseek you at your father's court. This I did because I could not\nsubmit to see my promised bride borne off by you. But, as man\nproposes and God disposes, your great courtesy, well tried in time\nof sore need, so moved my fixed resolve, that I not only laid\naside the hate I bore, but purposed to be your friend forever. You\nthen asked of me to win for you the lady Bradamante, which was all\none as to demand of me my heart and soul. You know whether I\nserved you faithfully or not. Yours is the lady; possess her in\npeace; but ask me not to live to see it. Be content rather that I\ndie; for vows have passed between myself and her which forbid that\nwhile I live she can lawfully wive with another.\"\n\nSo filled was gentle Leo with astonishment at these words that for\na while he stood silent, with lips unmoved and steadfast gaze,\nlike a statue. And the discovery that the stranger was Rogero not\nonly abated not the good will he bore him, but increased it, so\nthat his distress for what Rogero suffered seemed equal to his\nown. For this, and because he would appear deservedly an Emperor's\nson, and, though in other things outdone, would not be surpassed\nin courtesy, he says: \"Rogero, had I known that day when your\nmatchless valor routed my troops that you were Rogero, your virtue\nwould have made me your own, as then it made me while I knew not\nmy foe, and I should have no less gladly rescued you from\nTheodora's dungeon. And if I would willingly have done so then,\nhow much more gladly will I now restore the gift of which you\nwould rob yourself to confer it upon me. The damsel is more due to\nyou than to me, and though I know her worth, I would forego not\nonly her, but life itself, rather than distress a knight like\nyou.\"\n\nThis and much more he said to the same intent; till at last Rogero\nreplied, \"I yield, and am content to live, and thus a second time\nowe my life to you.\"\n\nBut several days elapsed before Rogero was so far restored as to\nreturn to the royal residence, where an embassy had arrived from\nthe Bulgarian princes to seek the knight of the unicorn, and\ntender to him the crown of that country, in place of their king,\nfallen in battle.\n\nThus were things situated when Prince Leo, leading by the hand\nRogero, clad in the battered armor in which he had sustained the\nconflict with Bradamante, presented himself before the king.\n\"Behold,\" he said \"the champion who maintained from dawn to\nsetting sun the arduous contest; he comes to claim the guerdon of\nthe fight.\" King Charlemagne, with all his peerage, stood amazed;\nfor all believed that the Grecian prince himself had fought with\nBradamante. Then stepped forth Marphisa, and said, \"Since Rogero\nis not here to assert his rights, I, his sister, undertake his\ncause, and will maintain it against whoever shall dare dispute his\nclaim.\" She said this with so much anger and disdain that the\nprince deemed it no longer wise to feign, and withdrew Rogero's\nhelmet from his brow, saying, \"Behold him here!\" Who can describe\nthe astonishment and joy of Marphisa! She ran and threw her arms\nabout her brother's neck, nor would give way to let Charlemagne\nand Rinaldo, Orlando, Dudon, and the rest, who crowded round,\nembrace him, and press friendly kisses on his brow. The joyful\ntidings flew fast by many a messenger to Bradamante, who in her\nsecret chamber lay lamenting. The blood that stagnated about her\nheart flowed at that notice so fast, that she had wellnigh died\nfor joy. Duke Aymon and the Lady Beatrice no longer withheld their\nconsent, and pledged their daughter to the brave Rogero before all\nthat gallant company.\n\nNow came the Bulgarian ambassadors, and, kneeling at the feet of\nRogero, besought him to return with them to their country, where,\nin Adrianople, the crown and sceptre were awaiting his acceptance.\nPrince Leo united his persuasions to theirs, and promised, in his\nroyal father's name, that peace should be restored on their part.\nRogero gave his consent, and it was surmised that none of the\nvirtues which shone so conspicuously in him so availed to\nrecommend Rogero to the Lady Beatrice as the hearing her future\nson-in-law saluted as a sovereign prince.\n\nTHE BATTLE OF RONCESVALLES\n\nAfter the expulsion of the Saracens from France Charlemagne led\nhis army into Spain, to punish Marsilius, the king of that\ncountry, for having sided with the African Saracens in the late\nwar. Charlemagne succeeded in all his attempts, and compelled\nMarsilius to submit, and pay tribute to France. Our readers will\nremember Gano, otherwise called Gan, or Ganelon, whom we mentioned\nin one of our early chapters as an old courtier of Charlemagne,\nand a deadly enemy of Orlando, Rinaldo, and all their friends. He\nhad great influence over Charles, from equality of age and long\nintimacy; and he was not without good qualities: he was brave and\nsagacious, but envious, false, and treacherous. Gan prevailed on\nCharles to send him as ambassador to Marsilius, to arrange the\ntribute. He embraced Orlando over and over again at taking leave,\nusing such pains to seem loving and sincere, that his hypocrisy\nwas manifest to every one but the old monarch. He fastened with\nequal tenderness on Oliver, who smiled contemptuously in his face,\nand thought to himself, \"You may make as many fair speeches as you\nchoose, but you lie.\" All the other paladins who were present\nthought the same, and they said as much to the Emperor, adding\nthat Gan should on no account be sent ambassador to the Spaniards.\nBut Charles was infatuated.\n\nGan was received with great honor by Marsilius. The king, attended\nby his lords, came fifteen miles out of Saragossa to meet him, and\nthen conducted him into the city with acclamations. There was\nnothing for several days but balls, games, and exhibitions of\nchivalry, the ladies throwing flowers on the heads of the French\nknights, and the people shouting, \"France! Mountjoy and St.\nDenis!\"\n\nAfter the ceremonies of the first reception the king and the\nambassador began to understand one another. One day they sat\ntogether in a garden on the border of a fountain. The water was so\nclear and smooth it reflected every object around, and the spot\nwas encircled with fruit-trees which quivered with the fresh air.\nAs they sat and talked, as if without restraint, Gan, without\nlooking the king in the face, was enabled to see the expression of\nhis countenance in the water, and governed his speech accordingly.\nMarsilius was equally adroit, and watched the face of Gan while he\naddressed him. Marsilius began by lamenting, not as to the\nambassador, but as to the friend, the injuries which Charles had\ndone him by invading his dominions, charging him with wishing to\ntake his kingdom from him and give it to Orlando; till at length\nhe plainly uttered his belief that if that ambitious paladin were\nbut dead good men would get their rights.\n\nGan heaved a sigh, as if he was unwillingly compelled to allow the\nforce of what the king said; but unable to contain himself long he\nlifted up his face, radiant with triumphant wickedness, and\nexclaimed: \"Every word you utter is truth; die he must, and die\nalso must Oliver, who struck me that foul blow at court. Is it\ntreachery to punish affronts like these? I have planned\neverything,--I have settled everything already with their\nbesotted master. Orlando will come to your borders--to\nRoncesvalles--for the purpose of receiving the tribute. Charles\nwill await him at the foot of the mountains. Orlando will bring\nbut a small band with him: you, when you meet him, will have\nsecretly your whole army at your back. You surround him, and who\nreceives tribute then?\"\n\nThe new Judas had scarcely uttered these words when his exultation\nwas interrupted by a change in the face of nature. The sky was\nsuddenly overcast, there was thunder and lightning, a laurel was\nsplit in two from head to foot, and the Carob-tree under which Gan\nwas sitting, which is said to be the species of tree on which\nJudas Iscariot hung himself, dropped one of its pods on his head.\n\nMarsilius, as well as Gan, was appalled at this omen; but on\nassembling his soothsayers they came to the conclusion that the\nlaurel-tree turned the omen against the Emperor, the successor of\nthe Caesars, though one of them renewed the consternation of Gan\nby saying that he did not understand the meaning of the tree of\nJudas, and intimating that perhaps the ambassador could explain\nit. Gan relieved his vexation by anger; the habit of wickedness\nprevailed over all other considerations; and the king prepared to\nmarch to Roncesvalles at the head of all his forces.\n\nGan wrote to Charlemagne to say how humbly and submissively\nMarsilius was coming to pay the tribute into the hands of Orlando,\nand how handsome it would be of the Emperor to meet him half-way,\nand so be ready to receive him after the payment at his camp. He\nadded a brilliant account of the tribute, and the accompanying\npresents. The good Emperor wrote in turn to say how pleased he was\nwith the ambassador's diligence, and that matters were arranged\nprecisely as he wished. His court, however, had its suspicion\nstill, though they little thought Gan's object in bringing Charles\ninto the neighborhood of Roncesvalles was to deliver him into the\nhands of Marsilius, after Orlando should have been destroyed by\nhim.\n\nOrlando, however, did as his lord and sovereign desired. He went\nto Roncesvalles, accompanied by a moderate train of warriors, not\ndreaming of the atrocity that awaited him. Gan, meanwhile, had\nhastened back to France, in order to show himself free and easy in\nthe presence of Charles, and secure the success of his plot; while\nMarsilius, to make assurance doubly sure, brought into the passes\nof Roncesvalles no less than three armies, which were successively\nto fall on the paladin in case of the worst, and so extinguish him\nwith numbers. He had also, by Gan's advice, brought heaps of wine\nand good cheer to be set before his victims in the first instance;\n\"for that,\" said the traitor, \"will render the onset the more\neffective, the feasters being unarmed. One thing, however, I must\nnot forget,\" added he; \"my son Baldwin is sure to be with Orlando;\nyou must take care of his life for my sake.\"\n\n\"I give him this vesture off my own body,\" said the king; \"let him\nwear it in the battle, and have no fear. My soldiers shall be\ndirected not to touch him.\"\n\nGan went away rejoicing to France. He embraced the sovereign and\nthe court all round with the air of a man who had brought them\nnothing but blessings, and the old king wept for very tenderness\nand delight.\n\n\"Something is going on wrong, and looks very black,\" thought\nMalagigi, the good wizard; \"Rinaldo is not here, and it is\nindispensably necessary that he should be. I must find out where\nhe is, and Ricciardetto too, and send for them with all speed.\"\n\nMalagigi called up by his art a wise, terrible, and cruel spirit,\nnamed Ashtaroth. \"Tell me, and tell me truly, of Rinaldo,\" said\nMalagigi to the spirit. The demon looked hard at the paladin, and\nsaid nothing. His aspect was clouded and violent.\n\nThe enchanter, with an aspect still cloudier, bade Ashtaroth lay\ndown that look, and made signs as if he would resort to angrier\ncompulsion; and the devil, alarmed, loosened his tongue, and said,\n\"You have not told me what you desire to know of Rinaldo.\"\n\n\"I desire to know what he has been doing, and where he is.\"\n\n\"He has been conquering and baptizing the world, east and west,\"\nsaid the demon, \"and is now in Egypt with Ricciardetto.\"\n\n\"And what has Gan been plotting with Marsilius?\" inquired\nMalagigi; \"and what is to come of it?\"\n\n\"I know not,\" said the devil. \"I was not attending to Gan at the\ntime, and we fallen spirits know not the future. All I discern is\nthat by the signs and comets in the heavens something dreadful is\nabout to happen--something very strange, treacherous, and bloody;\nand that Gan has a seat ready prepared for him in hell.\"\n\n\"Within three days,\" cried the enchanter, loudly, \"bring Rinaldo\nand Ricciardetto into the pass of Ronces-Valles. Do it, and I\nhereby undertake to summon thee no more.\"\n\n\"Suppose they will not trust themselves with me?\" said the spirit.\n\n\"Enter Rinaldo's horse, and bring him, whether he trust thee or\nnot.\"\n\n\"It shall be done,\" returned the demon.\n\nThere was an earthquake, and Ashtaroth disappeared.\n\nMarsilius now made his first movement towards the destruction of\nOrlando, by sending before him his vassal, King Blanchardin, with\nhis presents of wines and other luxuries. The temperate but\ncourteous hero took them in good part, and distributed them as the\ntraitor wished; and then Blanchardin, on pretence of going forward\nto salute Charlemagne, returned, and put himself at the head of\nthe second army, which was the post assigned him by his liege-\nlord. King Falseron, whose son Orlando had slain in battle, headed\nthe first army, and King Balugante the third. Marsilius made a\nspeech to them, in which he let them into his design, and\nconcluded by recommending to their good will the son of his friend\nGan, whom they would know by the vest he had sent him, and who was\nthe only soul amongst the Christian they were to spare.\n\nThis son of Gan, meanwhile, and several of the paladins, who\ndistrusted the misbelievers, and were anxious at all events to be\nwith Orlando, had joined the hero in the fatal valley; so that the\nlittle Christian host, considering the tremendous valor of their\nlord and his friends, were not to be sold for nothing. Rinaldo,\nalas! the second thunderbolt of Christendom, was destined not to\nbe there in time to meet the issue. The paladins in vain begged\nOrlando to be on his guard against treachery, and send for a more\nnumerous body of men. The great heart of the Champion of the Faith\nwas unwilling to harbor suspicion as long as he could help it. He\nrefused to summon aid which might be superfluous; neither would he\ndo anything but what his liege-lord had directed. And yet he could\nnot wholly repress a misgiving. A shadow had fallen on his heart,\ngreat and cheerful as it was. The anticipations of his friends\ndisturbed him, in spite of the face with which he met them.\nPerhaps by a certain foresight he felt his death approaching; but\nhe felt bound not to encourage the impression. Besides, time\npressed; the moment of the looked-for tribute was at hand, and\nlittle combinations of circumstances determine often the greatest\nevents.\n\nKing Marsilius was to arrive early next day with the tribute, and\nOliver, with the morning sun, rode forth to reconnoitre, and see\nif he could discover the peaceful pomp of the Spanish court in the\ndistance. He rode up the nearest height, and from the top of it\nbeheld the first army of Marsilius already forming in the passes.\n\"O devil Gan,\" he exclaimed, \"this then is the consummation of thy\nlabors!\" Oliver put spurs to his horse, and galloped back down the\nmountain to Orlando.\n\n\"Well,\" cried the hero, \"what news?\"\n\n\"Bad news,\" said his cousin, \"such as you would not hear of\nyesterday. Marsilius is here in arms, and all the world is with\nhim.\"\n\nThe paladins pressed round Orlando, and entreated him to sound his\nhorn, in token that he needed help. His only answer was to mount\nhis horse, and ride up the mountain with Sansonetto.\n\nAs soon, however, as he cast forth his eyes, and beheld what was\nround about him, he turned in sorrow, and looked down into\nRoncesvalles, and said, \"O miserable valley! the blood shed in\nthee this day will color thy name forever.\"\n\nOrlando's little camp were furious against the Saracens. They\narmed themselves with the greatest impatience. There was nothing\nbut lacing of helmets and mounting of horses, while good\nArchbishop Turpin went from rank to rank exhorting and encouraging\nthe warriors of Christ. Orlando and his captains withdrew for a\nmoment to consultation. He fairly groaned for sorrow, and at first\nhad not a word to say, so wretched he felt at having brought his\npeople to die in Roncesvalles. Then he said: \"If it had entered\ninto my heart to conceive the king of Spain to be such a villain\nnever would you have seen this day. He has exchanged with me a\nthousand courtesies and good words; and I thought that the worse\nenemies we had been before, the better friends we had become now.\nI fancied every human being capable of this kind of virtue on a\ngood opportunity, saving, indeed, such base-hearted wretches as\ncan never forgive their very forgivers; and of these I did not\nsuppose him to be one. Let us die, if die we must, like honest and\ngallant men, so that it shall be said of us it was only our bodies\nthat died. The reason why I did not sound the horn was partly\nbecause I thought it did not become us, and partly because our\nliege lord could hardly save us, even if he heard it.\" And with\nthese words Orlando sprang to his horse, crying, \"Aways against\nthe Saracens!\" But he had no sooner turned his face than he wept\nbitterly, and said, \"O Holy Virgin, think not of me, the sinner\nOrlando, but have pity on these thy servants!\"\n\nAnd now with a mighty dust, and an infinite sound of horns and\ntambours, which came filling the valley, the first army of the\ninfidels made its appearance, horses neighing, and a thousand\npennons flying in the air. King Falseron led them on, saying to\nhis officers: \"Let nobody dare to lay a finger on Orlando. He\nbelongs to myself. The revenge of my son's death is mine. I will\ncut the man down that comes between us.\" \"Now, friends,\" said\nOrlando, \"every man for himself, and St. Michael for us all! There\nis not one here that is not a perfect knight.\" And he might well\nsay it, for the flower of all France was there, except Rinaldo and\nRicciardetto--every man a picked man, all friends and constant\ncompanions of Orlando.\n\nSo the captains of the little troop and of the great army sat\nlooking at one another, and singling one another out as the latter\ncame on, and then the knights put spear in rest, and ran for a\nwhile two and two in succession, one against the other.\n\nAstolpho was the first to move. He ran against Arlotto of Sorio,\nand thrust his antagonist's body out of the saddle, and his soul\ninto the other world. Oliver encountered Malprimo, and, though he\nreceived a thrust which hurt him, sent his lance right through the\nheart of Malprimo.\n\nFalseron was daunted at this blow. \"Truly,\" thought he, \"this is a\nmarvel.\" Oliver did not press on among the Saracens, his wound was\ntoo painful; but Orlando now put himself and his whole band in\nmotion, and you may guess what an uproar ensued. The sound of the\nrattling of blows and helmets was as if the forge of Vulcan had\nbeen thrown open. Falseron beheld Orlando coming so furiously,\nthat he thought him a Lucifer who had burst his chain, and was\nquite of another mind than when he purposed to have him all to\nhimself. On the contrary, he recommended himself to his gods, and\nturned away, meaning to wait for a more auspicious season of\nrevenge. But Orlando hailed him with a terrible voice, saying, \"O\nthou traitor! was this the end to which old quarrels were made\nup?\" Then he dashed at Falseron with a fury so swift, and at the\nsame time with a mastery of his lance so marvellous, that, though\nhe plunged it in the man's body so as instantly to kill him, and\nthen withdrew it, the body did not move in the saddle. The hero\nhimself, as he rushed onwards, was fain to see the end of a stroke\nso perfect, and turning his horse back, touched the carcass with\nhis sword, and it fell on the instant!\n\nWhen the infidels beheld their leader dead such fear fell upon\nthem that they were for leaving the field to the paladins, but\nthey were unable. Marsilius had drawn the rest of his forces round\nthe valley like a net, so that their shoulders were turned in\nvain. Orlando rode into the thick of them, and wherever he went\nthunderbolts fell upon helmets. Oliver was again in the fray, with\nWalter and Baldwin, Avino and Avolio, while Arch-bishop Turpin\nhad changed his crosier for a lance, and chased a new flock before\nhim to the mountains.\n\nYet what could be done against foes without number? Marsilius\nconstantly pours them in. The paladins are as units to thousands.\nWhy tarry the horses of Rinaldo and Ricciardetto?\n\nThe horses did not tarry, but fate had been quicker than\nenchantment. Ashtaroth had presented himself to Rinaldo in Egypt,\nand, after telling his errand, he and Foul-mouth, his servant,\nentered the horses of Rinaldo and Ricciardetto, which began to\nneigh, and snort, and leap with the fiends within them, till off\nthey flew through the air over the pyramids and across the desert,\nand reached Spain and the scene of action just as Marsilius\nbrought up his third army. The two paladins on their horses\ndropped right into the midst of the Saracens, and began making\nsuch havoc among them that Marsilius, who overlooked the fight\nfrom a mountain, thought his soldiers had turned against one\nanother. Orlando beheld it, and guessed it could be no other but\nhis cousins, and pressed to meet them. Oliver coming up at the\nsame moment, the rapture of the whole party is not to be\nexpressed. After a few hasty words of explanation they were forced\nto turn again upon the enemy, whose numbers seemed perfectly\nwithout limit.\n\nOrlando, making a bloody passage towards Marsilius, struck a youth\non the head, whose helmet was so strong as to resist the blow, but\nat the same time flew off, Orlando prepared to strike a second\nblow, when the youth exclaimed, \"Hold! you loved my father; I am\nBujaforte!\" The paladin had never seen Bujaforte, but he saw the\nlikeness to the good old man, his father, and he dropped his\nsword. \"O Bujaforte,\" said he, \"I loved him indeed; but what does\nhis son do here fighting against his friends?\"\n\nBujaforte could not at once speak for weeping. At length he said:\n\"I am forced to be here by my lord and master, Marsilius; and I\nhave made a show of fighting, but have not hurt a single\nChristian. Treachery is on every side of you. Baldwin himself has\na vest given him by Marsilius, that everybody may know the son of\nhis friend Gan, and do him no harm.\"\n\n\"Put your helmet on again,\" said Orlando, \"and behave just as you\nhave done. Never will your father's friend be an enemy to the\nson.\"\n\nThe hero then turned in fury to look for Baldwin, who was\nhastening towards him at that moment, with friendliness in his\nlooks.\n\n\"'Tis strange,\" said Baldwin, \"I have done my duty as well as I\ncould, yet nobody will come against me. I have slain right and\nleft, and cannot comprehend what it is that makes the stoutest\ninfidels avoid me.\"\n\n\"Take off your vest,\" said Orlando, contemptuously, \"and you will\nsoon discover the secret, if you wish to know it. Your father has\nsold us to Marsilius, all but his honorable son.\"\n\n\"If my father,\" said Baldwin, impetuously tearing off the vest,\n\"has been such a villain, and I escape dying, I will plunge this\nsword through his heart. But I am no traitor, Orlando, and you do\nme wrong to say it. Think not I can live with dishonor.\"\n\nBaldwin spurred off into the fight, not waiting to hear another\nword from Orlando, who was very sorry for what he had said, for he\nperceived that the youth was in despair.\n\nAnd now the fight raged beyond all it had done before; twenty\npagans went down for one paladin, but still the paladins fell.\nSansonetto was beaten to earth by the club of Grandonio, Walter\nd'Amulion had his shoulder broken, Berlinghieri and Ottone were\nslain, and at last Astolpho fell, in revenge of whose death\nOrlando turned the spot where he died into a lake of Saracen\nblood. The luckless Bujaforte met Rinaldo, and before he could\nexplain how he seemed to be fighting on the Saracen side received\nsuch a blow upon the head that he fell, unable to utter a word.\nOrlando, cutting his way to a spot where there was a great\nstruggle and uproar, found the poor youth Baldwin, the son of Gan,\nwith two spears in his breast. \"I am no traitor now,\" said\nBaldwin, and those were the last words he said. Orlando was\nbitterly sorry to have been the cause of his death, and tears\nstreamed from his eyes. At length down went Oliver himself. He had\nbecome blinded with his own blood, and smitten Orlando without\nknowing him. \"How now, cousin,\" cried Orlando, \"have you too gone\nover to the enemy?\" \"O my lord and master,\" cried the other, \"I\nask your pardon. I can see nothing; I am dying. Some traitor has\nstabbed me in the back. If you love me, lead my horse into the\nthick of them, so that I may not die unavenged.\"\n\n\"I shall die myself before long,\" said Orlando, \"out of very toil\nand grief; so we will go together.\"\n\nOrlando led his cousin's horse where the press was thickest, and\ndreadful was the strength of the dying man and his tired\ncompanion. They made a street through which they passed out of the\nbattle, and Orlando led his cousin away to his tent, and said,\n\"Wait a little till I return, for I will go and sound the horn on\nthe hill yonder.\"\n\n\"'Tis of no use,\" said Oliver, \"my spirit is fast going and\ndesires to be with its Lord and Saviour.\"\n\nHe would have said more, but his words came from him imperfectly,\nlike those of a man in a dream, and so he expired.\n\nWhen Orlando saw him dead he felt as if he was alone on the earth,\nand he was quite willing to leave it, only he wished that King\nCharles, at the foot of the mountains, should know how the case\nstood before he went. So he took up the horn and blew it three\ntimes, with such force that the blood burst out of his nose and\nmouth. Turpin says that at the third blast the horn broke in two.\n\nIn spite of all the noise of the battle, the sound of the horn\nbroke over it like a voice out of the other world. They say that\nbirds fell dead at it, and that the whole Saracen army drew back\nin terror. Charlemagne was sitting in the midst of his court when\nthe sound reached him, and Gan was there. The Emperor was the\nfirst to hear it.\n\n\"Do you hear that?\" said he to his nobles. \"Did you hear the horn\nas I heard it?\"\n\nUpon this they all listened, and Gan felt his heart misgive him.\nThe horn sounded a second time.\n\n\"What is the meaning of this?\" said Charles.\n\n\"Orlando is hunting,\" observed Gan, \"and the stag is killed.\"\n\nBut when the horn sounded yet a third time, and the blast was one\nof so dreadful a vehemence, everybody looked at the other, and\nthen they all looked at Gan in a fury. Charles rose from his seat.\n\n\"This is no hunting of the stag,\" said he. \"The sound goes to my\nvery heart. O Gan! O Gan! Not for thee do I blush, but for myself.\nO foul and monstrous villain! Take him, gentleman, and keep him in\nclose prison. Would to God I had not lived to see this day!\"\n\nBut it was no time for words. They put the traitor in prison and\nthen Charles, with all his court, took his way to Roncesvalles,\ngrieving and praying.\n\nIt was afternoon when the horn sounded, and half an hour after it\nwhen the Emperor set out; and meantime Orlando had returned to the\nfight that he might do his duty, however hopeless, as long as he\ncould sit his horse. At length he found his end approaching, for\ntoil and fever, and rode all alone to a fountain where he had\nbefore quenched his thirst. His horse was wearier than he, and no\nsooner had his master alighted than the beast, kneeling down as if\nto take leave, and to say, \"I have brought you to a place of\nrest,\" fell dead at his feet. Orlando cast water on him from the\nfountain, not wishing to believe him dead; but when he found it to\nno purpose, he grieved for him as if he had been a human being,\nand addressed him by name with tears, and asked forgiveness if he\nhad ever done him wrong. They say that the horse, at these words,\nopened his eyes a little, and looked kindly at his master, and\nthen stirred never more. They say also that Orlando then summoning\nall his strength, smote a rock near him with his beautiful sword\nDurindana, thinking to shiver the steel in pieces, and so prevent\nits falling into the hands of the enemy, but though the rock split\nlike a slate, and a great cleft remained ever after to astonish\nthe eyes of pilgrims, the sword remained uninjured.\n\nAnd now Rinaldo and Ricciardetto came up, with Turpin, having\ndriven back the Saracens, and told Orlando that the battle was\nwon. Then Orlando knelt before Turpin and begged remission of his\nsins, and Turpin gave him absolution. Orlando fixed his eyes on\nthe hilt of his sword as on a crucifix, and embraced it, and he\nraised his eyes and appeared like a creature seraphical and\ntransfigured, and bowing his head, he breathed out his pure soul.\n\nAnd now King Charles and his nobles came up. The Emperor, at sight\nof the dead Orlando, threw himself, as if he had been a reckless\nyouth, from his horse, and embraced and kissed the body, and said:\n\"I bless thee, Orlando; I bless thy whole life, and all that thou\nwast, and all that thou ever didst, and the father that begat\nthee; and I ask pardon of thee for believing those who brought\nthee to thine end. They shall have their reward, O thou beloved\none! But indeed it is thou that livest, and I who am worse than\ndead.\"\n\nHorrible to the Emperor's eyes was the sight of the field of\nRoncesvalles. The Saracens indeed had fled, conquered; but all his\npaladins but two were left on it dead, and the whole valley looked\nlike a great slaughter-house, trampled into blood and dirt, and\nreeking to the heat. Charles trembled to his heart's core for\nwonder and agony. After gazing dumbly on the place he cursed it\nwith a solemn curse, and wished that never grass might grow in it\nagain, nor seed of any kind, neither within it nor on any of its\nmountains around, but the anger of Heaven abide over it forever.\n\nCharles and his warriors went after the Saracens into Spain. They\ntook and fired Saragossa, and Marsilius was hung to the carob-tree\nunder which he had planned his villainy with Gan; and Gan was hung\nand drawn and quartered in Roncesvalles, amidst the execrations of\nthe country.\n\nRINALDO AND BAYARD\n\nCHARLEMAGNE was overwhelmed with grief at the loss of so many of\nhis bravest warriors at the disaster of Roncesvalles, and bitterly\nreproached himself for his credulity in resigning himself so\ncompletely to the counsels of the treacherous Count Gan. Yet he\nsoon fell into a similar snare when he suffered his unworthy son,\nCharlot, to acquire such an influence over him, that he constantly\nled him into acts of cruelty and injustice that in his right mind\nhe would have scorned to commit. Rinaldo and his brothers, for\nsome slight offence to the imperious young prince, were forced to\nfly from Paris, and to take shelter in their castle of Montalban;\nfor Charles had publicly said, if he could take them he would hang\nthem all. He sent numbers of his bravest knights to arrest them,\nbut all without success. Either Rinaldo foiled their efforts and\nsent them back, stripped of their armor and of their glory, or,\nafter meeting and conferring with him, they came back and told the\nking they could not be his instruments for such a work.\n\nAt last Charles himself raised a great army, and went in person to\ncompel the paladin to submit. He ravaged all the country round\nabout Montalban, so that supplies of food should be cut off, and\nhe threatened death to any who should attempt to issue forth,\nhoping to compel the garrison to submit for want of food.\n\nRinaldo's resources had been brought so low that it seemed useless\nto contend any longer. His brothers had been taken prisoners in a\nskirmish, and his only hope of saving their lives was in making\nterms with the king.\n\nSo he sent a messenger, offering to yield himself and his castle\nif the king would spare his and his brothers' lives. While the\nmessenger was gone Rinaldo, impatient to learn what tidings he\nmight bring, rode out to meet him. When he had ridden as far as he\nthought prudent he stopped in a wood, and alighting, tied Bayard\nto a tree. Then he sat down, and, as he waited, he fell asleep.\nBayard meanwhile got loose, and strayed away where the grass\ntempted him. Just then came along some country people, who said to\none another, \"Look, is not that the great horse Bayard that\nRinaldo rides? Let us take him, and carry him to King Charles, who\nwill pay us well for our trouble.\" They did so, and the king was\ndelighted with his prize, and gave them a present that made them\nrich to their dying day.\n\nWhen Rinaldo woke he looked round for his horse, and, finding him\nnot, he groaned, and said, \"O unlucky hour that I was born! how\nfortune persecutes me!\" So desperate was he that he took off his\narmor and his spurs, saying, \"What need have I of these, since\nBayard is lost?\" While he stood thus lamenting, a man came from\nthe thicket, seemingly bent with age. He had a long beard hanging\nover his breast, and eyebrows that almost covered his eyes. He\nbade Rinaldo good day. Rinaldo thanked him, and said, \"A good day\nI have hardly had since I was born.\" Then said the old man,\n\"Signor Rinaldo, you must not despair, for God will make all\nthings turn to the best.\" Rinaldo answered, \"My trouble is too\nheavy for me to hope relief. The king has taken my brothers, and\nmeans to put them to death. I thought to rescue them by means of\nmy horse Bayard, but while I slept some thief has stolen him.\" The\nold man replied, \"I will remember you and your brothers in my\nprayers. I am a poor man, have you not something to give me?\"\nRinaldo said, \"I have nothing to give,\" but then he recollected\nhis spurs. He gave them to the beggar, and said, \"Here, take my\nspurs. They are the first present my mother gave me when my\nfather, Count Aymon, dubbed me knight. They ought to bring you ten\npounds.\"\n\nThe old man took the spurs, and put them into his sack, and said,\n\"Noble sir, have you nothing else you can give me?\" Rinaldo\nreplied, \"Are you making sport of me? I tell you truly if it were\nnot for shame to beat one so helpless, I would teach you better\nmanners.\" The old man said, \"Of a truth, sir, if you did so you\nwould do a great sin. If all had beaten me of whom I have begged I\nshould have been killed long ago, for I ask alms in churches and\nconvents, and wherever I can.\" \"You say true,\" replied Rinaldo,\n\"if you did not ask, none would relieve you.\" The old man said,\n\"True, noble sir, therefore I pray if you have anything more to\nspare, give it me.\" Rinaldo gave him his mantle, and said, \"Take\nit, pilgrim. I give it you for the love of Christ, that God would\nsave my brothers from a shameful death, and help me to escape out\nof King Charles's power.\"\n\nThe pilgrim took the mantle, folded it up, and put it into his\nbag. Then a third time he said to Rinaldo, \"Sir, have you nothing\nleft to give me that I may remember you in my prayers?\" \"Wretch!\"\nexclaimed Rinaldo, \"do you make me your sport?\" and he drew his\nsword, and struck at him; but the old man warded off the blow with\nhis staff, and said, \"Rinaldo, would you slay your cousin,\nMalagigi?\" When Rinaldo heard that he stayed his hand, and gazed\ndoubtingly on the old man, who now threw aside his disguise, and\nappeared to be indeed Malagigi. \"Dear cousin,\" said Rinaldo, \"pray\nforgive me. I did not know you. Next to God, my trust is in you.\nHelp my brothers to escape out of prison, I entreat you. I have\nlost my horse, and therefore cannot render them any assistance.\"\nMalagigi answered, \"Cousin Rinaldo, I will enable you to recover\nyour horse. Meanwhile, you must do as I say.\"\n\nThen Malagigi took from his sack a gown, and gave it to Rinaldo to\nput on over his armor, and a hat that was full of holes, and an\nold pair of shoes to put on. They looked like two pilgrims, very\nold and poor. Then they went forth from the wood, and after a\nlittle while saw four monks riding along the road. Malagigi said\nto Rinaldo, \"I will go meet the monks, and see what news I can\nlearn.\"\n\nMalagigi learned from the monks that on the approaching festival\nthere would be a great crowd of people at court, for the prince\nwas going to show the ladies the famous horse Bayard that used to\nbelong to Rinaldo. \"What!\" said the pilgrim; \"is Bayard there?\"\n\"Yes,\" answered the monks; \"the king has given him to Charlot,\nand, after the prince has ridden him the king means to pass\nsentence on the brothers of Rinaldo, and have them hanged.\" Then\nMalagigi asked alms of the monks, but they would give him none,\ntill he threw aside his pilgrim garb, and let them see his armor,\nwhen, partly for charity and partly for terror, they gave him a\ngolden cup, adorned with precious stones that sparkled in the\nsunshine.\n\nMalagigi then hastened back to Rinaldo, and told him what he had\nlearned.\n\nThe morning of the feast-day Rinaldo and Malagigi came to the\nplace where the sports were to be held. Malagigi gave Rinaldo his\nspurs back again, and said, \"Cousin, put on your spurs, for you\nwill need them.\" \"How shall I need them,\" said Rinaldo, \"since I\nhave lost my horse?\" Yet he did as Malagigi directed him.\n\nWhen the two had taken their stand on the border of the field\namong the crowd the princes and ladies of the court began to\nassemble. When they were all assembled the king came also, and\nCharlot with him, near whom the horse Bayard was led, in the\ncharge of grooms, who were expressly enjoined to guard him safely.\nThe king, looking round on the circle of spectators, saw Malagigi\nand Rinaldo, and observed the splendid cup that they had, and said\nto Charlot, \"See, my son, what a brilliant cup those two pilgrims\nhave got. It seems to be worth a hundred ducats.\" \"That is true,\"\nsaid Charlot; \"Let us go and ask where they got it.\" So they rode\nto the place where the pilgrims stood, and Charlot stopped Bayard\nclose to them.\n\nThe horse snuffed at the pilgrims, knew Rinaldo, and caressed his\nmaster. The king said to Malagigi, \"Friend, where did you get that\nbeautiful cup?\" Malagigi replied, \"Honorable sir, I paid for it\nall the money I have saved from eleven years' begging in churches\nand convents. The Pope himself has blessed it, and given it the\npower that whosoever eats or drinks out of it shall be pardoned of\nall his sins.\" Then said the king to Charlot, \"My son, these are\nright holy men; see how the dumb beast worships them.\"\n\nThen the king said to Malagigi, \"Give me a morsel from your cup,\nthat I may be cleared of my sins.\" Malagigi answered, \"Illustrious\nlord, I dare not do it, unless you will forgive all who have at\nany time offended you. You know that Christ forgave all those who\nhad betrayed and crucified him.\" The king replied, \"Friend, that\nis true; but Rinaldo has so grievously offended me, that I cannot\nforgive him, nor that other man, Malagigi, the magician. These two\nshall never live in my kingdom again. If I catch them I will\ncertainly have them hanged. But tell me, pilgrim, who is that man\nwho stands beside you?\" \"He is deaf, dumb, and blind,\" said\nMalagigi. Then the king said again, \"Give me to drink of your cup,\nto take away my sins.\" Malagigi answered, \"My lord king, here is\nmy poor brother, who for fifty days has not heard, spoken, nor\nseen. This misfortune befell him in a house where we found\nshelter, and the day before yesterday we met with a wise woman,\nwho told him the only hope of a cure for him was to come to some\nplace where Bayard was to be ridden, and to mount and ride him;\nthat would do him more good than anything else.\" Then said the\nking, \"Friend, you have come to the right place, for Bayard is to\nbe ridden here to-day. Give me a draught from your cup, and your\ncompanion shall ride upon Bayard.\" Malagigi, hearing these words,\nsaid, \"Be it so.\" Then the king, with great devotion, took a\nspoon, and dipped a portion from the pilgrim's cup, believing that\nhis sins should be thereby forgiven.\n\nWhen this was done, the king said to Charlot, \"Son, I request that\nyou will let this sick pilgrim sit on your horse, and ride if he\ncan, for by so doing he will be healed of all his infirmities.\"\nCharlot replied, \"That will I gladly do.\" So saying, he\ndismounted, and the servants took the pilgrim in their arms, and\nhelped him on the horse.\n\nWher Rinaldo was mounted, he put his feet in the stirrups, and\nsaid, \"I would like to ride a little.\" Malagigi, hearing him\nspeak, seemed delighted, and asked him whether he could see and\nhear also. \"Yes,\" said Rinaldo, \"I am healed of all my\ninfirmities.\" When the king heard it he said to Bishop Turpin, \"My\nlord bishop, we must celebrate this with a procession, with\ncrosses and banners, for it is a great miracle.\"\n\nWhen Rinaldo remarked that he was not carefully watched, he spoke\nto the horse, and touched him with the spurs. Bayard knew that his\nmaster was upon him, and he started off upon a rapid pace, and in\na few moments was a good way off. Malagigi pretended to be in\ngreat alarm. \"O noble king and master,\" he cried, \"my poor\ncompanion is run away with; he will fall and break his neck.\" The\nking ordered his knights to ride after the pilgrim, and bring him\nback, or help him if need were. They did so, but it was in vain.\nRinaldo left them all behind him, and kept on his way till he\nreached Montalban. Malagigi was suffered to depart, unsuspected,\nand he went his way, making sad lamentation for the fate of his\ncomrade, who he pretended to think must surely be dashed to\npieces.\n\nMalagigi did not go far, but having changed his disguise, returned\nto where the king was, and employed his best art in getting the\nbrothers of Rinaldo out of prison. He succeeded; and all three got\nsafely to Montalban, where Rinaldo's joy at the rescue of his\nbrothers and the recovery of Bayard was more than tongue can tell.\n\nDEATH OF RINALDO\n\nTHE distress in Rinaldo's castle for want of food grew more severe\nevery day, under the pressure of the siege. The garrison were\nforced to kill their horses, both to save the provision they would\nconsume, and to make food of their flesh. At last all the horses\nwere killed except Bayard, and Rinaldo said to his brothers,\n\"Bayard must die, for we have nothing else to eat.\" So they went\nto the stable and brought out Bayard to kill him. But Alardo said,\n\"Brother, let Bayard live a little longer; who knows what God may\ndo for us?\"\n\nBayard heard these words, and understood them as if he was a man,\nand fell on his knees, as if he would beg for mercy. When Rinaldo\nsaw the distress of his horse his heart failed him, and he let him\nlive.\n\nJust at this time Aya, Rinaldo's mother, who was the sister of the\nEmperor, came to the camp, attended by knights and ladies, to\nintercede for her sons. She fell on her knees before the king, and\nbesought him that he would pardon Rinaldo and his brothers: and\nall the peers and knights took her side, and entreated the king to\ngrant her prayer. Then said the king, \"Dear sister, you act the\npart of a good mother, and I respect your tender heart, and yield\nto your entreaties. I will spare your sons their lives if they\nsubmit implicitly to my will.\"\n\nWhen Charlot heard this he approached the king and whispered in\nhis ear. And the king turned to his sister and said, \"Charlot must\nhave Bayard, because I have given the horse to him. Now go, my\nsister, and tell Rinaldo what I have said.\"\n\nWhen the Lady Aya heard these words she was delighted, thanked God\nin her heart, and said, \"Worthy king and brother, I will do as you\nbid me.\" So she went into the castle, where her sons received her\nmost joyfully and affectionately, and she told them the king's\noffer. Then Alardo said, \"Brother, I would rather have the king's\nenmity than give Bayard to Charlot, for I believe he will kill\nhim.\" Likewise said all the brothers. When Rinaldo heard them he\nsaid, \"Dear brothers, if we may win our forgiveness by giving up\nthe horse, so be it. Let us make our peace, for we cannot stand\nagainst the king's power.\" Then he went to his mother, and told\nher they would give the horse to Charlot, and more, too, if the\nking would pardon them, and forgive all that they had done against\nhis crown and dignity. The lady returned to Charles and told him\nthe answer of her sons.\n\nWhen the peace was thus made between the king and the sons of\nAymon, the brothers came forth from the castle, bringing Bayard\nwith them, and, falling at the king's feet, begged his\nforgiveness. The king bade them rise, and received them into favor\nin the sight of all his noble knights and counsellors, to the\ngreat joy of all, especially of the Lady Aya, their mother. Then\nRinaldo took the horse Bayard, gave him to Charlot, and said, \"My\nlord and prince, this horse I give to you; do with him as to you\nseems good.\" Charlot took him, as had been agreed on. Then he made\nthe servants take him to the bridge, and throw him into the water.\nBayard sank to the bottom, but soon came to the surface again and\nswam, saw Rinaldo looking at him, came to land, ran to his old\nmaster, and stood by him as proudly as if he had understanding,\nand would say, \"Why did you treat me so?\" When the prince saw that\nhe said, \"Rinaldo, give me the horse again, for he must die.\"\nRinaldo replied, \"My lord and prince, he is yours without\ndispute,\" and gave him to him. The prince then had a millstone\ntied to each foot, and two to his neck, and made them throw him\nagain into the water. Bayard struggled in the water, looked up to\nhis master, threw off the stones, and came back to Rinaldo.\n\nWhen Alardo saw that, he said, \"Now must thou be disgraced\nforever, brother, if thou give up the horse again.\" But Rinaldo\nanswered, \"Brother, be still. Shall I for the horse's life provoke\nthe anger of the king again?\" Then Alardo said, \"Ah, Bayard! what\na return do we make for all thy true love and service!\" Rinaldo\ngave the horse to the prince again, and said, \"My lord, if the\nhorse comes out again I cannot return him to you any more, for it\nwrings my heart too much.\" Then Chariot had Bayard loaded with the\nstones as before, and thrown into the water; and commanded Rinaldo\nthat he should not stand where the horse would see him. When\nBayard rose to the surface he stretched his neck out of the water\nand looked round for his master, but saw him not. Then he sunk to\nthe bottom.\n\nRinaldo was so distressed for the loss of Bayard that he made a\nvow to ride no horse again all his life long, nor to bind a sword\nto his side, but to become a hermit. He resolved to betake himself\nto some wild wood, but first to return to his castle, to see his\nchildren, and to appoint to each his share of his estate.\n\nSo he took leave of the king and of his brothers, and returned to\nMontalban, and his brothers remained with the king. Rinaldo called\nhis children to him, and he made his eldest born, Aymeric, a\nknight, and made him lord of his castle and of his land. He gave\nto the rest what other goods he had, and kissed and embraced them\nall, commended them to God, and then departed from them with a\nheavy heart.\n\nHe had not travelled far when he entered a wood, and there met\nwith a hermit, who had long been retired from the world. Rinaldo\ngreeted him, and the hermit replied courteously, and asked him who\nhe was and what was his purpose. Rinaldo replied, \"Sir, I have led\na sinful life; many deeds of violence have I done, and many men\nhave I slain, not always in a good cause, but often under the\nimpulse of my own headstrong passions. I have also been the cause\nof the death of many of my friends, who took my part, not because\nthey thought me in the right, but only for love of me. And now I\ncome to make confession of all my sins, and to do penance for the\nrest of my life, if perhaps the mercy of God will forgive me.\" The\nhermit said, \"Friend, I perceive you have fallen into great sins,\nand have broken the commandments of God, but his mercy is greater\nthan your sins; and if you repent from your heart, and lead a new\nlife, there is yet hope for you that he will forgive you what is\npast.\" So Rinaldo was comforted, and said, \"Master, I will stay\nwith you, and what you bid ane I will do.\" The hermit replied,\n\"Roots and vegetables will be your food; shirt or shoes you may\nnot wear; your lot must be poverty and want if you stay with me.\"\nRinaldo replied, \"I will cheerfully bear all this, and more.\" So\nhe remained three whole years with the hermit, and after that his\nstrength failed, and it seemed as if he was like to die.\n\nOne night the hermit had a dream, and heard a voice from heaven,\nwhich commanded him to say to his companion that he must without\ndelay go to the Holy Land, and fight against the heathen. The\nhermit, when he heard that voice, was glad, and calling Rinaldo,\nhe said, \"Friend, God's angel has commanded me to say to you that\nyou must without delay go to Jerusalem, and help our fellow-\nChristians in their struggle with the Infidels.\" Then said\nRinaldo, \"Ah! master, how can I do that? It is over three years\nsince I made a vow no more to ride a horse, nor take a sword or\nspear in my hand.\" The hermit answered, \"Dear friend, obey God,\nand do what the angel commanded.\" \"I will do so,\" said Rinaldo,\n\"and pray for me, my master, that God may guide me right.\" Then he\ndeparted, and went to the seaside, and took ship and came to\nTripoli in Syria.\n\nAnd as he went on his way his strength returned to him, till it\nwas equal to what it was in his best days. And though he never\nmounted a horse, nor took a sword in his hand, yet with his\npilgrim's staff he did good service in the armies of the\nChristians; and it pleased God that he escaped unhurt, though he\nwas present in many battles, and his courage inspired the men with\nthe same. At last a truce was made with the Saracens, and Rinaldo,\nnow old and infirm, wishing to see his native land again before he\ndied, took ship and sailed for France. When he arrived he shunned\nto go to the resorts of the great, and preferred to live among the\nhumble folk, where he was unknown. He did country work, and lived\non milk and bread, drank water, and was therewith content. While\nhe so lived he heard that the city of Cologne was the holiest and\nbest of cities, on account of the relics and bodies of saints who\nhad there poured out their blood for the faith. This induced him\nto betake himself thither. When the pious hero arrived at Cologne\nhe went to the monastery of St. Peter, and lived a holy life,\noccupied night and day in devotion. It so happened that at that\ntime in the next town to Cologne there raged a dreadful\npestilence. Many people came to Rinaldo, to beg him to pray for\nthem, that the plague might be stayed. The holy man prayed\nfervently, and besought the Lord to take away the plague from the\npeople, and his prayer was heard. The stroke of the pestilence was\narrested, and all the people thanked the holy man and praised God.\n\nNow there was at this time at Cologne a bishop, called Agilolphus,\nwho was a wise and understanding man, who led a pure and secluded\nlife, and set a good example to others. This bishop undertook to\nbuild the Church of St. Peter, and gave notice to all stonemasons\nand other workmen round about to come to Cologne, where they\nshould find work and wages. Among others came Rinaldo; and he\nworked among the laborers and did more than four or five common\nworkmen. When they went to dinner he brought stone and mortar so\nthat they had enough for the whole day. When the others went to\nbed he stretched himself out on the stones. He ate bread only, and\ndrank nothing but water; and had for his wages but a penny a day.\nThe head workman asked him his name, and where he belonged. He\nwould not tell, but said nothing and pursued his work. They called\nhim St. Peter's workman, because he was so devoted to his work.\n\nWhen the overseer saw the diligence of this holy man he chid the\nlaziness of the other workmen, and said, \"You receive more pay\nthan this good man, but do not do half as much work.\" For this\nreason the other workmen hated Rinaldo, and made a secret\nagreement to kill him. They knew that he made it a practice to go\nevery night to a certain church to pray and give alms. So they\nagreed to lay wait for him, with the purpose to kill him. When he\ncame to the spot, they seized him, and beat him over the head till\nhe was dead. Then they put his body into a sack, and stones with\nit, and cast it into the Rhine, in the hope the sack would sink to\nthe bottom, and be there concealed. But God willed not that it\nshould be so, but caused the sack to float on the surface, and be\nthrown upon the bank. And the soul of the holy martyr was carried\nby angels, with songs of praise, up to the heavens.\n\nNow at that time the people of Dortmund had become converted to\nthe Christian faith; and they sent to the Bishop of Cologne, and\ndesired him to give them some of the holy relics that are in such\nabundance in that city. So the Bishop called together his clergy\nto deliberate what answer they should give to this request. And it\nwas determined to give to the people of Dortmund the body of the\nholy man who had just suffered martyrdom.\n\nWhen now the body with the coffin was put on the cart, the cart\nbegan to move toward Dortmund without horses or help of men, and\nstopped not till it reached the place where the church of St.\nRinaldo now stands. The Bishop and his clergy followed the holy\nman to do him honor, with singing of hymns, for a space of three\nmiles. And St. Rinaldo has ever since been the patron of that\nplace, and many wonderful works has God done through him, as may\nbe seen in the legends.\n\nHUON OF BORDEAUX\n\nWHEN Charlemagne grew old he felt the burden of government become\nheavier year by year, till at last he called together his high\nbarons and peers to propose to abdicate the empire and the throne\nof France in favor of his sons, Charlot and Lewis.\n\nThe Emperor was unreasonably partial to his eldest son; he would\nhave been glad to have had the barons and peers demand Charlot for\ntheir only sovereign; but that prince was so infamous, for his\nfalsehood and cruelty, that the council strenuously opposed the\nEmperor's proposal of abdicating, and implored him to continue to\nhold a sceptre which he wielded with so much glory.\n\nAmaury of Hauteville, cousin of Ganelon, and now head of the\nwicked branch of the house of Maganza, was the secret partisan of\nCharlot, whom he resembled in his loose morals and bad\ndispositions. Amaury nourished the most bitter resentment against\nthe house of Guienne, of which the former Duke, Sevinus, had often\nrebuked his misdeeds. He took advantage of this occasion to do an\ninjury to the two young children whom the Duke Sevinus had left\nunder the charge of the Duchess Alice, their mother; and at the\nsame time, to advance his interest with Charlot by increasing his\nwealth and power. With this view he suggested to the prince a new\nidea.\n\nHe pretended to agree with the opinion of the barons; he said that\nit would be best to try Charlot's capacity for government by\ngiving him some rich provinces before placing him upon the throne;\nand that the Emperor, without depriving himself of any part of his\nrealm, might give Charlot the investiture of Guienne. For although\nseven years had passed since the death of Sevinus, the young Duke,\nhis son, had not yet repaired to the court of Charlemagne to\nrender the homage due to his lawful sovereign.\n\nWe have often had occasion to admire the justice and wisdom of the\nadvice which on all occasions the Duke Namo of Bavaria gave to\nCharlemagne, and he now discountenanced, with indignation, the\nselfish advice of Amaury. He represented to the Emperor the early\nage of the children of Sevinus, and the useful and glorious\nservices of their late father, and proposed to Charlemagne to send\ntwo knights to the Duchess at Bordeaux, to summon her two sons to\nthe court of the Emperor, to pay their respects and render homage.\n\nCharlemagne approved this advice, and sent two chevaliers to\ndemand the two young princes of their mother. No sooner had the\nDuchess learned the approach of the two knights, than she sent\ndistinguished persons to receive them; and as soon as they entered\nthe palace she presented herself before them, with her elder and\nyounger sons, Huon and Girard.\n\nThe deputies, delighted with the honors and caresses they\nreceived, accompanied with rich presents, left Bordeaux with\nregret and on their return represented to Charlemagne that the\nyoung Duke Huon seemed born to tread in the footsteps of his brave\nfather, informing him that in three months the young princes of\nGuienne would present themselves at his court.\n\nThe Duchess employed the short interval in giving her sons her\nlast instructions. Huon received them in his heart, and Girard\ngave as much heed to them as could be expected from one so young.\n\nThe preparations for their departure having been made, the Duchess\nembraced them tenderly, commending them to the care of Heaven, and\ncharged them to call, on their way, at the celebrated monastery of\nCluny, to visit the Abbot, the brother of their father. This\nAbbot, worthy of his high dignity, had never lost an opportunity\nof doing good, setting an example of every excellence, and making\nvirtue attractive by his example.\n\nHe received his nephews with the greatest magnificence; and, aware\nhow useful his presence might be to them with Charlemagne, whose\nvalued counsellor he was, he took with them the road to Paris.\n\nWhen Amaury learned what reception the two deputies of Charlemagne\nhad received at Bordeaux, and the arrangements made for the visit\nof the young princes to the Emperor's court, he suggested to\nCharlot to give him a troop of his guards, with which he proposed\nto lay wait for the young men in the wood of Montlery, put them to\ndeath, and thereby give the prince Charlot possession of the duchy\nof Guienne.\n\nA plan of treachery and violence agreed but too well with\nCharlot's disposition. He not only adopted the suggestion of\nAmaury, but insisted upon taking a part in it. They went out\nsecretly, by night, followed by a great number of attendants, all\narmed in black, to lie in ambuscade in the wood where the brothers\nwere to pass.\n\nGirard, the younger of the two, having amused himself as he rode\nby flying his hawk at such game as presented itself, had ridden in\nadvance of his brother and the Abbot of Cluny. Charlot, who saw\nhim coming, alone and unarmed, went forth to meet him, sought a\nquarrel with him, and threw him from his horse with a stroke of\nhis lance. Girard uttered a cry as he fell; Huon heard it, and\nflew to his defence, with no other weapon than his sword. He came\nup with him, and saw the blood flowing from his wound. \"What has\nthis child done to you, wretch!\" he exclaimed to Charlot. \"How\ncowardly to attack him when unprepared to defend himself!\" \"By my\nfaith,\" said Charlot, \"I mean to do the same by you. Know that I\nam the son of Duke Thierry of Ardennes, from whom your father,\nSevinus, took three castles; I have sworn to avenge him, and I\ndefy you.\" \"Coward,\" answered Huon, \"I know well the baseness that\ndwells in your race; worthy son of Thierry, use the advantage that\nyour armor gives you; but know that I fear you not.\" At these\nwords Charlot had the wickedness to put his lance in rest, and to\nrun upon Huon, who had barely time to wrap his arm in his mantle.\nWith this feeble buckler he received the thrust of the lance. It\npenetrated the mantle, but missed his body. Then, rising upon his\nstirrups, Sir Huon struck Charlot so terrible a blow with his\nsword that the helmet was cleft asunder, and his head too. The\ndastardly prince fell dead upon the ground.\n\nHuon now perceived that the wood was full of armed men. He called\nthe men of his suite, and they hastily put themselves in order,\nbut nobody issued from the wood to attack him. Amaury, who saw\nCharlot's fall, had no desire to compromit himself; and, feeling\nsure that Charlemagne would avenge the death of his son, he saw no\noccasion for his doing anything more at present. He left Huon and\nthe Abbot of Cluny to bind up the wound of Girard, and, having\nseen them depart and resume their way to Paris, he took up the\nbody of Charlot, and, placing it across a horse, had it carried to\nParis, where he arrived four hours after Huon.\n\nThe Abbot of Cluny presented his nephew to Charlemagne, but Huon\nrefrained from paying his obeisance, complaining grievously of the\nambush which had been set for him, which he said could not have\nbeen without the Emperor's permission. Charlemagne, surprised at a\ncharge which his magnanimous soul was incapable of meriting, asked\neagerly of the Abbot what were the grounds of the complaints of\nhis nephew. The Abbot told him faithfully all that had happened,\ninforming him that a coward knight, who called himself the son of\nThierry of Ardennes, had wounded Girard, and run upon Huon, who\nwas unarmed; but by his force and valor he had overcome the\ntraitor, and left him dead upon the plain.\n\nCharlemagne indignantly disavowed any connection with the action\nof the infamous Thierry, congratulated the young Duke upon his\nvictory, himself conducted the two brothers to a rich apartment,\nstayed to see the first dressing applied to the wound of Girard,\nand left the brothers in charge of Duke Namo of Bavaria, who,\nhaving been a companion in arms of the Duke Sevinus, regarded the\nyoung men almost as if they were his own sons.\n\nCharlemagne had hardly quitted them when, returning to his\nchamber, he heard cries, and saw through the window a party of\narmed men just arrived. He recognized Amaury, who bore a dead\nknight stretched across a horse; and the name of Charlot was heard\namong the exclamations of the people assembled in the court-yard.\n\nCharles's partiality for this unworthy son was one of his\nweaknesses. He descended in trepidation to the court-yard, ran to\nAmaury, and uttered a cry of grief on recognizing Charlot. \"It is\nHuon of Bordeaux,\" said the traitor Amaury, \"who has massacred\nyour son before it was in my power to defend him.\" Charlemagne,\nfurious at these words, seized a sword, and flew to the apartment\nof the two brothers to plunge it into the heart of the murderer of\nhis son. Duke Namo stopped his hand for an instant, while Charles\ntold him the crime of which Huon was accused. \"He is a peer of the\nrealm,\" said Namo, \"and if he is guilty, is he not here in your\npower, and are not we peers the proper judges to condemn him to\ndeath? Let not your hand be stained with his blood.\" The Emperor,\ncalmed by the wisdom of Duke Namo, summoned Amaury to his\npresence. The peers assembled to hear his testimony, and the\ntraitor accused Huon of Bordeaux of having struck the fatal blow\nwithout allowing Charlot an opportunity to defend himself, and\nthough he knew that his opponent was the Emperor's eldest son.\n\nThe Abbot of Cluny, indignant at the false accusation of Amaury,\nadvanced, and said, \"By Saint Benedict, sire, the traitor lies in\nhis throat. If my nephew has slain Charlot it was in his own\ndefence, and after having seen his brother wounded by him, and\nalso in ignorance that his adversary was the prince. Though I am a\nson of the Church,\" added the good Abbot, \"I forget not that I am\na knight by birth. I offer to prove with my body the lie upon\nAmaury, if he dares sustain it, and I shall feel that I am doing a\nbetter work to punish a disloyal traitor, than to sing lauds and\nmatins.\"\n\nHuon to this time had kept silent, amazed at the black calumny of\nAmaury; but now he stepped forth, and, addressing Amaury, said:\n\"Traitor! darest thou maintain in arms the lie thou hast uttered?\"\nAmaury, a knight of great prowess, despising the youth and slight\nfigure of Huon, hesitated not to offer his glove, which Huon\nseized; then, turning again to the peers, he said: \"I pray you let\nthe combat be allowed me, for never was there a more legitimate\ncause.\" The Duke Namo and the rest, deciding that the question\nshould be remitted to the judgment of Heaven, the combat was\nordained, to which Charlemagne unwillingly consented. The young\nDuke was restored to the charge of Duke Namo, who the next morning\ninvested him with the honors of knighthood, and gave him armor of\nproof, with a white shield. The Abbot of Cluny, delighted to find\nin his nephew sentiments worthy of his birth, embraced him, gave\nhim his blessing, and hastened to the church of St. Germains to\npray for him, while the officers of the king prepared the lists\nfor the combat.\n\nThe battle was long and obstinate. The address and agility of Huon\nenabled him to avoid the terrible blows which the ferocious Amaury\naimed at him. But Huon had more than once drawn blood from his\nantagonist. The effect began to be perceived in the failing\nstrength of the traitor; at last he threw himself from his horse,\nand kneeling, begged for mercy. \"Spare me,\" he said, \"and I will\nconfess all. Aid me to rise, and lead me to Charlemagne.\" The\nbrave and loyal Huon, at these words, put his sword under his left\narm, and stretched out his right to raise the prostrate man, who\nseized the opportunity to give him a thrust in the side. The\nhauberk of Huon resisted the blow, and he was wounded but\nslightly. Transported with rage at this act of baseness, he forgot\nhow necessary for his complete acquittal the confession of Amaury\nwas, and without delay dealt him the fatal blow.\n\nDuke Namo and the other peers approached, had the body of Amaury\ndragged forth from the lists, and conducted Huon to Charlemagne.\nThe Emperor, however, listening to nothing but his resentment and\ngrief for the death of his son, refused to be satisfied; and under\nthe plea that Huon had not succeeded in making his accuser retract\nhis charge seemed resolved to confiscate his estates and to banish\nhim forever from France. It was not till after long entreaties on\nthe part of Duke Namo and the rest that he consented to grant Huon\nhis pardon, under conditions which he should impose.\n\nHuon approached, and knelt before the Emperor, rendered his\nhomage, and cried him mercy for the involuntary killing of his\nson. Charlemagne would not receive the hands of Huon in his own,\nbut touched him with his sceptre, saying, \"I receive thy homage,\nand pardon thee the death of my son, but only on one condition.\nYou shall go immediately to the court of the Sultan Gaudisso; you\nshall present yourself before him as he sits at meat; you shall\ncut off the head of the most illustrious guest whom you shall find\nsitting nearest to him; you shall kiss three times on the mouth\nthe fair princess, his daughter, and you shall demand of the\nSultan, as token of tribute to me, a handful of the white hair of\nhis beard, and four grinders from his mouth.\"\n\nThese conditions caused a murmur from all the assembly. \"What!\"\nsaid the Abbot of Cluny; \"slaughter a Saracen prince without first\noffering him baptism?\" \"The second condition is not so hard,\" said\nthe young peers, \"but the demand that Huon is bound to make of the\nold Sultan is very uncivil, and will be hard to obtain.\"\n\nThe Emperor's obstinacy when he had once resolved upon a thing is\nwell known. To the courage of Huon nothing seemed impossible. \"I\naccept the conditions,\" said he, silencing the intercessions of\nthe old Duke of Bavaria; \"my liege, I accept my pardon at this\nprice. I go to execute your commands, as your vassal and a peer of\nFrance.\"\n\nThe Duke Namo and Abbot of Cluny, being unable to obtain any\nrelaxation of the sentence passed by Charlemagne, led forth the\nyoung Duke, who determined to set out at once on his expedition.\nAll that the good Abbot could obtain of him was, that he should\nprepare for this perilous undertaking by going first to Rome, to\npay his homage to the Pope, who was the brother of the Duchess\nAlice, Huon's mother, and from him demand absolution and his\nblessing. Huon promised it, and forthwith set out on his way to\nRome.\n\nHUON OF BORDEAUX (Continued)\n\nHUON, having traversed the Apennines and Italy, arrived at the\nenvirons of Rome, where, laying aside his armor, he assumed the\ndress of a pilgrim. In this attire he presented himself before the\nPope, and not till after he had made a full confession of his sins\ndid he announce himself as his nephew. \"Ah! my dear nephew,\"\nexclaimed the Holy Father, \"what harder penance could I impose\nthan the Emperor has already done? Go in peace, my son,\" he added,\nabsolving him, \"I go to intercede for you with the Most High.\"\nThen he led his nephew into his palace, and introduced him to all\nthe Cardinals and Princes of Rome as the Duke of Guienne, son of\nthe Duchess Alice, his sister.\n\nHuon, at setting out, had made a vow not to stop more than three\ndays in a place. The Holy Father took advantage of this time to\ninspire him with zeal for the glory of Christianity, and with\nconfidence in the protection of the Most High. He advised him to\nembark for Palestine, to visit the Holy Sepulchre, and to depart\nthence for the interior of Asia.\n\nLoaded with the blessings of the Holy Father, Huon, obeying his\ncounsels, embarked for Palestine, arrived, and visited with the\ngreatest reverence the holy places. He then departed, and took his\nway toward the east.\n\nBut, ignorant of the country and of the language, he lost himself\nin a forest, and remained three days without seeing a human\ncreature, living on honey and wild fruits which he found on the\ntrees. The third day, seeking a passage through a rocky defile, he\nbeheld a man in tattered clothing, whose beard and hair covered\nhis breast and shoulders. This man stopped on seeing him, observed\nhim, and recognized the arms and bearing of a French knight. He\nimmediately approached, and exclaimed, in the language of the\nSouth of France, \"God be praised! Do I indeed behold a chevalier\nof my own country, after fifteen years passed in this desert\nwithout seeing the face of a fellow-countryman?\"\n\nHuon, to gratify him still more, unlaced his helmet, and came\ntowards him with a smiling countenance. The other regarded him\nwith more surprise than at first. \"Good Heaven!\" he exclaimed,\n\"was there ever such a resemblance? Ah, noble sir,\" he added,\n\"tell me, I beseech you, of what country and race you come?\" \"I\nrequire,\" replied Huon, \"before telling you mine, that you first\nreveal your own; let it suffice you at present to know that I am a\nChristian, and that in Guienne I was born.\" \"Ah! Heaven grant that\nmy eyes and my heart do not deceive me,\" exclaimed the unknown;\n\"my name is Sherasmin; I am brother to Guire, the Mayor of\nBordeaux. I was taken prisoner in the battle where my dear and\nillustrious master, Sevinus, lost his life. For three years I\nendured the miseries of slavery; at length I broke my chains and\nescaped to this desert, where I have sustained myself in solitude\never since. Your features recall to me my beloved sovereign, in\nwhose service I was from my infancy till his death.\" Huon made no\nreply but by embracing the old man, with tears in his eyes. Then\nSherasmin learned that his arms enfolded the son of the Duke\nSevinus. He led him to his cabin, and spread before him the dry\nfruits and honey which formed his only aliment.\n\nHuon recounted his adventures to Sherasmin, who was moved to tears\nat the recital. He then consulted him on means of conducting his\nenterprise. Sherasmin hesitated not to confess that success seemed\nimpossible; nevertheless he swore a solemn oath never to abandon\nhim. The Saracen language, which he was master of, would be\nserviceable to them when they should leave the desert, and mingle\nwith men.\n\nThey took the route of the Red Sea, and entered Arabia. Their way\nlay through a region which Sherasmin described as full of terrors.\nIt was inhabited by Oberon, King of the Fairies, who made captive\nsuch knights as were rash enough to penetrate into it, and\ntransformed them into Hobgoblins. It was possible to avoid this\ndistrict at the expense of somewhat lengthening their route; but\nno dangers could deter Huon of Bordeaux; and the brave Sherasmin,\nwho had now resumed the armor of a knight, reluctantly consented\nto share with him the dangers of the shorter route.\n\nThey entered a wood, and arrived at a spot whence alleys branched\noff in various directions. One of them seemed to be terminated by\na superb palace, whose gilded roofs were adorned with brilliant\nweathercocks covered with diamonds. A superb chariot issued from\nthe gate of the palace, and drove toward Huon and his companion,\nas if to meet them half-way. The prince saw no one in the chariot\nbut a child apparently about five years old, very beautiful, and\nclad in a robe which glittered with precious stones. At the sight\nof him, Sherasmin's terror was extreme. He seized the reins of\nHuon's horse, and turned him about, hurrying the prince away, and\nassuring him that they were lost if they stopped to parley with\nthe mischievous dwarf, who, though he appeared a child, was full\nof years and of treachery. Huon was sorry to lose sight of the\nbeautiful dwarf, whose aspect had nothing in it to alarm; yet he\nfollowed his friend, who urged on his horse with all possible\nspeed. Presently a storm began to roar through the forest, the\ndaylight grew dim, and they found their way with difficulty. From\ntime to time they seemed to hear an infantine voice, which said,\n\"Stop, Duke Huon; listen to me: it is in vain you fly me!\"\n\nSherasmin only fled the faster, and stopped not until he had\nreached the gate of a monastery of monks and nuns, the two\ncommunities of which were assembled at that time in a religious\nprocession. Sherasmin, feeling safe from the malice of the dwarf\nin the presence of so many holy persons and the sacred banners,\nstopped to ask an asylum, and made Huon dismount also. But at that\nmoment they were joined by the dwarf, who blew a blast upon an\nivory horn which hung from his neck. Immediately the good\nSherasmin, in spite of himself, began to dance like a young\ncollegian, and seizing the hand of an aged nun, who felt as if it\nwould be her death, they footed it briskly over the grass, and\nwere imitated by all the other monks and nuns, mingled together,\nforming the strangest dancing-party ever beheld. Huron alone felt\nno disposition to dance; but he came near dying of laughter at\nseeing the ridiculous postures and leaps of the others.\n\nThe dwarf, approaching Huon, said, in a sweet voice, and in Huon's\nown language, \"Duke of Guienne, why do you shun me? I conjure you,\nin Heaven's name, speak to me.\" Huon, hearing himself addressed in\nthis serious manner, and knowing that no evil spirit would dare to\nuse the holy name in aid of his schemes, replied, \"Sir, whoever\nyou are, I am ready to hear and answer you.\" \"Huon, my friend,\"\ncontinued the dwarf, \"I always loved your race, and you have been\ndear to me ever since your birth. The gracious state of conscience\nin which you were when you entered my wood has protected you from\nall enchantments, even if I had intended to practise any upon you.\nIf these monks, these nuns, and even your friend Sherasmin, had\nhad a conscience as pure as yours, my horn would not have set them\ndancing; but where is the monk or the nun who can always be deaf\nto the voice of the tempter, and Sherasmin in the desert has often\ndoubted the power of Providence.\"\n\nAt these words Huon saw the dancers overcome with exertion. He\nbegged mercy for them, the dwarf granted it, and the effect of the\nhorn ceased at once; the nuns got rid of their partners, smoothed\ntheir dresses, and hastened to resume their places in the\nprocession. Sherasmin, overcome with heat, panting, and unable to\nstand on his legs, threw himself upon the grass, and began, \"Did\nnot I tell you\"--He was going on in an angry tone, but the dwarf,\napproaching, said, \"Sherasmin, why have you murmured against\nProvidence? Why have you thought evil of me? You deserved this\nlight punishment; but I know you to be good and loyal; I mean to\nshow myself your friend, as you shall soon see.\" At these words he\npresented him a rich goblet. \"Make the sign of the cross on this\ncup,\" said he, \"and then believe that I hold my power from the God\nyou adore, whose faithful servant I am, as well as you.\" Sherasmin\nobeyed, and on the instant the cup was filled with delicious wine,\na draught of which restored vigor to his limbs, and made him feel\nyoung again. Overcome with gratitude, he threw himself on his\nknees, but the dwarf raised him, and bade him sit beside him, and\nthus commenced his history:\n\n\"Julius Caesar, going by sea to join his army, was driven by a\nstorm to take shelter in the island of Celea, where dwelt the\nfairy Glorianda. From this renowned pair I draw my birth. I am the\ninheritor of that which was most admirable in each of my parents:\nmy father's heroic qualities, and my mother's beauty and magic\nart. But a malicious sister of my mother's, in revenge for some\nslight offence, touched me with her wand when I was only five\nyears old, and forbade me to grow any bigger; and my mother, with\nall her power, was unable to annul the sentence. I have thus\ncontinued infantile in appearance, though full of years and\nexperience. The power which I derive from my mother I use\nsometimes for my own diversion, but always to promote justice and\nto reward virtue. I am able and willing to assist you, Duke of\nGuienne, for I know the errand on which you come hither. I presage\nfor you, if you follow my counsels, complete success; and the\nbeautiful Clarimunda for a wife.\"\n\nWhen he had thus spoken he presented to Huon the precious and\nuseful cup, which had the faculty of filling itself when a good\nman took it in his hand. He gave him also his beautiful horn of\nivory, saying to him, \"Huon, when you sound this gently, you will\nmake the hearers dance, as you have seen; but if you sound it\nforcibly, fear not that I shall hear it, though at a hundred\nleagues' distance, and will fly to your relief; but be careful not\nto sound it in that way, unless upon the most urgent occasion.\"\n\nOberon directed Huon what course he should take to reach the\ncountry of the Sultan Gaudisso. \"You will encounter great perils,\"\nsaid he, \"before arriving there, and I fear me,\" he added, with\ntears in his eyes, \"that you will not in everything obey my\ndirections, and in that case you will suffer much calamity.\" Then\nhe embraced Huon and Sherasmin, and left them.\n\nHuon and his follower travelled many days through the desert\nbefore they reached any inhabited place, and all this while the\nwonderful cup sustained them, furnishing them not only wine, but\nfood also. At last they came to a great city. As day was\ndeclining, they entered its suburbs, and Sherasmin, who spoke the\nSaracen language perfectly, inquired for an inn where they could\npass the night. A person who appeared to be one of the principal\ninhabitants, seeing two strangers of respectable appearance making\nthis inquiry, stepped forward and begged them to accept the\nshelter of his mansion. They entered, and their host did the\nhonors of his abode with a politeness which they were astonished\nto see in a Saracen. He had them served with coffee and sherbet,\nand all was conducted with great decorum, till one of the servants\nawkwardly overturned a cup of hot coffee on the host's legs, when\nhe started up, exclaiming in very good Gascon, \"Blood and thunder!\nyou blockhead, you deserve to be thrown over the mosque!\"\n\nHuon could not help laughing to see the vivacity and the language\nof his country thus break out unawares. The host, who had no idea\nthat his guests understood his words, was astonished when Huon\naddressed him in the dialect of his country. Immediately\nconfidence was established between them; especially when the\ndomestics had retired. The host, seeing that he was discovered,\nand that the two pretended Saracens were from the borders of the\nGaronne, embraced them, and disclosed that he was a Christian.\nHuon, who had learned prudence from the advice of Oberon, to test\nhis host's sincerity, drew from his robe the cup which the Fairy-\nking had given him, and presented it empty to the host. \"A fair\ncup,\" said he, \"but I should like it better if it was full.\"\nImmediately it was so. The host, astonished, dared not put it to\nhis lips. \"Drink boldly, my dear fellow-countryman,\" said Huon;\n\"your truth is proved by this cup, which only fills itself in the\nhands of an honest man.\" The host did not hesitate longer; the cup\npassed freely from hand to hand; their mutual cordiality increased\nas it passed, and each recounted his adventures. Those of Huon\nredoubled his host's respect; for he recognized in him his\nlegitimate sovereign: while the host's narrative was in these\nwords:\n\n\"My name is Floriac; this great and strong city, you will hear\nwith surprise and grief, is governed by a brother of Duke Sevinus,\nand your uncle. You have no doubt heard that a young brother of\nthe Duke of Guienne was stolen away from the sea-shore, with his\ncompanions, by some corsairs. I was then his page, and we were\ncarried by those corsairs to Barbary, where we were sold for\nslaves. The Barbary prince sent us as part of the tribute which he\nyearly paid to his sovereign, the Sultan Gaudisso. Your uncle, who\nhad been somewhat puffed up by the flattery of his attendants,\nthought to increase his importance with his new master by telling\nhim his rank. The Sultan, who, like a true Mussulman, detested all\nChristian princes, exerted himself from that moment to bring him\nover to the Saracen faith. He succeeded but too well. Your uncle,\nseduced by the arts of the Santons, and by the pleasures and\nindulgences which the Sultan allowed him, committed the horrid\ncrime of apostasy; he renounced his baptism, and embraced\nMahometanism. Gaudisso then loaded him with honors, made him\nespouse one of his nieces, and sent him to reign over this city\nand adjoining country. Your uncle preserved for me the same\nfriendship which he had had when a boy; but all his caresses and\nefforts could not make me renounce my faith. Perhaps he respected\nme in his heart for my resistance to his persuasions, perhaps he\nhad hopes of inducing me in time to imitate him. He made me\naccompany him to this city, of which he was master, he gave me his\nconfidence, and permits me to keep in my service some Christians,\nwhom I protect for the sake of their faith.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" exclaimed Huon, \"take me to this guilty uncle. A prince of\nthe house of Guienne, must he not blush at the cowardly\nabandonment of the faith of his fathers?\"\n\n\"Alas!\" replied Floriac, \"I fear he will neither be sensible of\nshame at your reproaches, nor of pleasure at the sight of a nephew\nso worthy of his lineage. Brutified by sensuality, jealous of his\npower, which he often exercises with cruelty, he will more\nprobably restrain you by force or put you to death.\"\n\n\"Be it so,\" said the brave and fervent Huon, \"I could not die in a\nbetter cause; and I demand of you to conduct me to him to-morrow,\nafter having told him of my arrival and my birth.\" Floriac still\nobjected, but Huon would take no denial, and he promised\nobedience.\n\nNext morning Floriac waited upon the Governor and told him of the\narrival of his nephew, Huon of Bordeaux; and of the intention of\nthe prince to present himself at his court that very day. The\nGovernor, surprised, did not immediately answer; though he at once\nmade up his mind what to do. He knew that Floriac loved Christians\nand the princes of his native land too well to aid in any treason\nto one of them; he therefore feigned great pleasure at hearing of\nthe arrival of the eldest born of his family at his court. He\nimmediately sent Floriac to find him; he caused his palace to be\nput in festal array, his divan to be assembled, and after giving\nsome secret orders, went himself to meet his nephew, whom he\nintroduced under his proper name and title to all the great\nofficers of his court.\n\nHuon burned with indignation at seeing his uncle with forehead\nencircled with a rich turban, surmounted with a crescent of\nprecious stones. His natural candor made him receive with pain the\nembraces which the treacherous Governor lavished upon him.\nMeanwhile the hope of finding a suitable moment to reproach him\nfor his apostasy made him submit to those honors which his uncle\ncaused to be rendered to him. The Governor evaded with address the\nchance of being alone with Huon and spent all the morning in\ntaking him through his gardens and palace. At last, when the hour\nof dinner approached, and the Governor took him by the hand to\nlead him into the dining-hall, Huon seized the opportunity and\nsaid to him in a low voice, \"O my uncle! O Prince, brother of the\nDuke Sevinus! in what condition have I the grief and shame of\nseeing you!\" The Governor pretended to be moved, pressed his hand,\nand whispered in his ear, \"Silence! my dear nephew; to-morrow\nmorning I will hear you fully.\"\n\nHuon, comforted a little by these words, took his seat at the\ntable by the side of the Governor. The Mufti, some Cadis, Agas,\nand Santons, filled the other places. Sherasmin sat down with\nthem; but Floriac, who would not lose sight of his guests,\nremained standing, and passed in and out to observe what was going\non within the palace. He soon perceived a number of armed men\ngliding through the passages and antechambers connected with the\ndining-hall. He was about to enter to give his guests notice of\nwhat he had seen when he heard a violent noise and commotion in\nthe hall. The cause was this.\n\nHuon and Sherasmin were well enough suited with the first course\nand ate with good appetite; but the people of their country not\nbeing accustomed to drink only water at their meals, Huon and\nSherasmin looked at one another, not very well pleased at such a\nregimen. Huon laughed outright at the impatience of Sherasmin, but\nsoon, experiencing the same want himself, he drew forth Oberon's\ncup and made the sign of the cross. The cup filled and he drank it\noff, and handed it to Sherasmin, who followed his example. The\nGovernor and his officers, seeing this abhorred sign, contracted\ntheir brows and sat in silent consternation. Huon pretended not to\nobserve it, and having filled the cup again handed it to his\nuncle, saying, \"Pray, join us, dear uncle; it is excellent\nBordeaux wine, the drink that will be to you like mother's milk.\"\nThe Governor, who often drank in secret with his own favorite\nSultanas the wines of Greece and Shiraz, never in public drank\nanything but water. He had not for a long time tasted the\nexcellent wines of his native land; he was sorely tempted to drink\nwhat was now handed to him, it looked so bright in the cup,\noutshining the gold itself. He stretched forth his hand, took the\nbrimming goblet, and raised it to his lips, when immediately it\ndried up and disappeared. Huon and Sherasmin, like Gascons as they\nwere, laughed at his astonishment. \"Christian dogs!\" he exclaimed,\n\"do you dare to insult me at my own table? But I will soon be\nrevenged.\" At these words he threw the cup at the head of his\nnephew, who caught it with his left hand, while with the other he\nsnatched the turban, with its crescent, from the Governor's head\nand threw it on the floor. All the Saracens started up from table,\nwith loud outcries, and prepared to avenge the insult. Huon and\nSherasmin put themselves on their defence, and met with their\nswords the scimitars directed against them. At this moment the\ndoors of the hall opened and a crowd of soldiers and armed eunuchs\nrushed in, who joined in the attack upon Huon and Sherasmin. The\nPrince and his followers took refuge on a broad shelf or side-\nboard, where they kept at bay the crowd of assailants, making the\nmost forward of them smart for their audacity. But more troops\ncame pressing in and the brave Huon, inspired by the wine of\nBordeaux, and not angry enough to lose his relish for a joke, blew\na gentle note on his horn, and no sooner was it heard than it\nquelled the rage of the combatants and set them to dancing. Huon\nand Sherasmin, no longer attacked, looked down from their elevated\nposition on a scene the most singular and amusing. Very soon the\nSultanas, hearing the sound of the dance and finding their guards\nwithdrawn, came into the hall and mixed with the dancers. The\nfavorite Sultana seized upon a young Santon, who performed jumps\ntwo feet high; but soon the long dresses of this couple got\nintermingled and threw them down. The Santon's beard was caught in\nthe Sultana's necklace, and they could not disentangle them. The\nGovernor by no means approved this familiarity, and took two steps\nforward to get at the Santon, but he stumbled over a prostrate\nDervise and measured his length on the floor. The dancing\ncontinued till the strength of the performers was exhausted, and\nthey fell, one after the other, and lay helpless. The Governor at\nlength made signs to Huon that he would yield everything if he\nwould but allow him to rest. The bargain was ratified; the\nGovernor allowed Huon and Sherasmin to depart on their way, and\neven gave them a ring which would procure them safe passage\nthrough his country and access to the Sultan Gaudisso. The two\nfriends hastened to avail themselves of this favorable turn, and\ntaking leave of Floriac, pursued their journey.\n\nHUON OF BORDEAUX (Continued)\n\nHUON had seen many beauties at his mother's court, but his heart\nhad never been touched with love. Honor had been his mistress, and\nin pursuit of that he had never found time to give a thought to\nsofter cares. Strange that a heart so insensible should first be\ntouched by something so unsubstantial as a dream; but so it was.\n\nThe day after the adventure with his uncle night overtook the\ntravellers as they passed through a forest. A grotto offered them\nshelter from the night dews. The magic cup supplied their evening\nmeal; for such was its virtue that it afforded not only wine, but\nmore solid fare when desired. Fatigue soon threw them into\nprofound repose. Lulled by the murmur of the foliage, and\nbreathing the fragrance of the flowers, Huon dreamed that a lady\nmore beautiful than he had ever before seen hung over him and\nimprinted a kiss upon his lips. As he stretched out his arms to\nembrace her a sudden gust of wind swept her away.\n\nHuon awoke in an agony of regret. A few moments sufficed to afford\nsome consolation in showing him that what had passed was but a\ndream; but his perplexity and sadness could not escape the notice\nof Sherasmin. Huon hesitated not to inform his faithful follower\nof the reason of his pensiveness; and got nothing in return but\nhis rallyings for allowing himself to be disturbed by such a\ncause. He recommended a draught from the fairy goblet, and Huon\ntried it with good effect.\n\nAt early dawn they resumed their way. They travelled till high\nnoon, but said little to one another. Huon was musing on his\ndream, and Sherasmin's thoughts flew back to his early days on the\nbanks of the flowery Garonne.\n\nOn a sudden they were startled by the cry of distress, and turning\nan angle of the wood, came where a knight hard pressed was\nfighting with a furious lion. The knight's horse lay dead, and it\nseemed as if another moment would end the combat, for terror and\nfatigue had quite disabled the knight for further resistance. He\nfell, and the lion's paw was raised over him, when a blow from\nHuon's sword turned the monster's rage upon a new enemy. His roar\nshook the forest, and he crouched in act to spring, when, with the\nrapidity of lightning, Huon plunged his sword into his side. He\nrolled over on the plain in the agonies of death.\n\nThey raised the knight from the ground, and Sherasmin hastened to\noffer him a draught from the fairy cup. The wine sparkled to the\nbrim, and the warrior put forth his lips to quaff it, but it\nshrunk away, and did not even wet his lips. He dashed the goblet\nangrily on the ground, with an exclamation of resentment. This\nincident did not tend to make either party more acceptable to the\nother; and what followed was worse. For when Huon said, \"Sir\nknight, thank God for your deliverance,\"--\"Thank Mahomet, rather,\nyourself,\" said he, \"for he has led you this day to render service\nto no less a personage than the Prince of Hyrcania.\"\n\nAt the sound of this blasphemy Huon drew his sword and turned upon\nthe miscreant, who, little disposed to encounter the prowess of\nwhich he had so lately seen proof, betook himself to flight. He\nran to Huon's horse, and lightly vaulting on his back, clapped\nspurs to his side, and galloped out of sight.\n\nThe adventure was vexatious, yet there was no remedy. The prince\nand Sherasmin continued their journey with the aid of the\nremaining horse as they best might. At length, as evening set in,\nthey descried the pinnacles and towers of a great city full before\nthem, which they knew to be the famous city of Bagdad.\n\nThey were well-nigh exhausted with fatigue when they arrived at\nits precincts, and in the darkness, not knowing what course to\ntake, were glad to meet an aged woman, who, in reply to their\ninquiries, offered them such accommodations as her cottage could\nsupply. They thankfully accepted the offer, and entered the low\ndoor. The good dame busily prepared the best fare her stores\nsupplied,--milk, figs, and peaches,--deeply regretting that the\nbleak winds had nipped her almond-trees.\n\nSir Huon thought he had never in his life tasted any fare so good.\nThe old lady talked while her guests ate. She doubted not, she\nsaid, they had come to be present at the great feast in honor of\nthe marriage of the Sultan's daughter, which was to take place on\nthe morrow. They asked who the bridegroom was to be, and the old\nlady answered, \"The Prince of Hyrcania,\" but added, \"Our princess\nhates him, and would rather wed a dragon than him.\" \"How know you\nthat?\" asked Huon; and the dame informed him that she had it from\nthe princess herself, who was her foster-child. Huon inquired the\nreason of the princess's aversion; and the woman pleased to find\nher chat excite so much interest, replied that it was all in\nconsequence of a dream. \"A dream!\" exclaimed Huon. \"Yes! a dream.\nShe dreamed that she was a hind, and that the Prince, as a hunter,\nwas pursuing her, and had almost overtaken her, when a beautiful\ndwarf appeared in view, drawn in a golden car, having by his side\na young man of yellow hair and fair complexion, like one from a\nforeign land. She dreamed that the car stopped where she stood,\nand that, having resumed her own form, she was about to ascend it,\nwhen suddenly it faded from her view, and with it the dwarf and\nthe fair-haired youth. But from her heart that vision did not\nfade, and from that time her affianced bridegroom, the Hyrcanian\nprince, had become odious to her sight. Yet the Sultan, her\nfather, by no means regarding such a cause as sufficient to\nprevent the marriage, had named the morrow as the time when it\nshould be solemnized, in presence of his court and many princes of\nthe neighboring countries, whom the fame of the princess's beauty\nand the bridegroom's splendor had brought to the scene.\"\n\nWe may suppose this conversation woke a tumult of thoughts in the\nbreast of Huon. Was it not clear that Providence led him on, and\ncleared the way for his happy success? Sleep did not early visit\nthe eyes of Huon that night; but, with the sanguine temper of\nyouth, he indulged his fancy in imagining the sequel of his\nstrange experience.\n\nThe next day, which he could not but regard as the decisive day of\nhis fate, he prepared to deliver the message of Charlemagne. Clad\nin his armor, fortified with his ivory horn and his ring, he\nreached the palace of Gaudisso when the guests were assembled at\nthe banquet. As he approached the gate a voice called on all true\nbelievers to enter; and Huon, the brave and faithful Huon, in his\nimpatience passed in under that false pretention. He had no sooner\npassed the barrier than he felt ashamed of his baseness, and was\noverwhelmed with regret. To make amends for his fault he ran\nforward to the second gate, and cried to the porter, \"Dog of a\nmisbeliever, I command you in the name of Him who died on the\ncross, open to me!\" The points of a hundred weapons immediately\nopposed his passage. Huon then remembered for the first time the\nring he had received from his uncle, the Governor. He produced it,\nand demanded to be led to the Sultan's presence. The officer of\nthe guard recognized the ring, made a respectful obeisance, and\nallowed him free entrance. In the same way he passed the other\ndoors to the rich saloon where the great Sultan was at dinner with\nhis tributary princes. At sight of the ring the chief attendant\nled Huon to the head of the hall, and introduced him to the Sultan\nand his princes as the ambassador of Charlemagne. A seat was\nprovided for him near the royal party.\n\nThe Prince of Hyrcania, the same whom Huon had rescued from the\nlion, and who was the destined bridegroom of the beautiful\nClarimunda, sat on the Sultan's right hand, and the princess\nherself on his left. It chanced that Huon found himself near the\nseat of the princess, and hardly were the ceremonies of reception\nover before he made haste to fulfill the commands of Charlemagne\nby imprinting a kiss upon her rosy lips, and after that a second,\nnot by command, but by good will. The Prince of Hyrcania cried\nout, \"Audacious infidel! take the reward of thy insolence!\" and\naimed a blow at Huon, which, if it had reached him, would have\nbrought his embassy to a speedy termination. But the ingrate\nfailed of his aim, and Huon punished his blasphemy and ingratitude\nat once by a blow which severed his head from his body.\n\nSo suddenly had all this happened that no hand had been raised to\narrest it; but now Gaudisso cried out, \"Seize the murderer!\" Huon\nwas hemmed in on all sides, but his redoubtable sword kept the\ncrowd of courtiers at bay. But he saw new combatants enter, and\ncould not hope to maintain his ground against so many. He\nrecollected his horn, and raising it to his lips, blew a blast\nalmost as loud as that of Roland at Roncesvalles. It was in vain.\nOberon heard it; but the sin of which Huon had been guilty in\nbearing, though but for a moment, the character of a believer in\nthe false prophet, had put it out of Oberon's power to help him.\nHuon, finding himself deserted, and conscious of the cause, lost\nhis strength and energy, was seized, loaded with chains, and\nplunged into a dungeon.\n\nHis life was spared for the time, merely that he might be reserved\nfor a more painful death. The Sultan meant that, after being made\nto feel all the torments of hunger and despair, he should be\nflayed alive.\n\nBut an enchanter more ancient and more powerful than Oberon\nhimself interested himself for the brave Huon. The enchanter was\nLove. The Princess Clarimunda learned with horror the fate to\nwhich the young prince was destined. By the aid of her governante\nshe gained over the keeper of the prison, and went herself to\nlighten the chains of her beloved. It was her hand that removed\nhis fetters, from her he received supplies of food to sustain a\nlife which he devoted from thenceforth wholly to her. After the\nmost tender explanations the princess departed, promising to\nrepeat her visit on the morrow.\n\nThe next day she came according to promise, and again brought\nsupplies of food. These visits were continued during a whole\nmonth. Huon was too good a son of the Church to forget that the\namiable princess was a Saracen, and he availed himself of these\ninterviews to instruct her in the true faith. How easy it is to\nbelieve the truth when uttered by the lips of those we love!\nClarimunda ere long professed her entire belief in the Christian\ndoctrines, and desired to be baptized.\n\nMeanwhile the Sultan had repeatedly inquired of the jailer how his\nprisoner bore the pains of famine, and learned to his surprise\nthat he was not yet much reduced thereby. On his repeating the\ninquiry, after a short interval, the keeper replied that the\nprisoner had died suddenly, and had been buried in the cavern. The\nSultan could only regret that he had not sooner ordered the\nexecution of the sentence.\n\nWhile these things were going on the faithful Sherasmin, who had\nnot accompanied Huon in his last adventure, but had learned by\ncommon rumor the result of it, came to the court in hopes of doing\nsomething for the rescue of his master. He presented himself to\nthe Sultan as Solario, his nephew. Guadisso received him with\nkindness, and all the courtiers loaded him with attentions. He\nsoon found means to inform himself how the Princess regarded the\nbrave but unfortunate Huon, and having made himself known to her,\nconfidence was soon established between them. Clarimunda readily\nconsented to assist in the escape of Huon, and to quit with him\nher father's court to repair to that of Charlemagne. Their united\nefforts had nearly perfected their arrangement, a vessel was\nsecretly prepared, and all things in forwardness for the flight,\nwhen an unlooked-for obstacle presented itself. Huon himself\npositively refused to go leaving the orders of Charlemagne\nunexecuted.\n\nSherasmin was in despair. Bitterly he complained of the fickleness\nand cruelty of Oberon in withdrawing his aid at the very crisis\nwhen it was most necessary. Earnestly he urged every argument to\nsatisfy the prince that he had done enough for honor, and could\nnot be held bound to achieve impossibilities. But all was of no\navail, and he knew not which way to turn, when one of those events\noccurred which are so frequent under Turkish despotisms. A courier\narrived at the court of the Sultan, bearing the ring of his\nsovereign, the mighty Agrapard, Caliph of Arabia, and bringing the\nbow-string for the neck of Gaudisso. No reason was assigned; none\nbut the pleasure of the Caliph is ever required in such cases; but\nit was suspected that the bearer of the bow-string had persuaded\nthe Caliph that Gaudisso, whose rapacity was well known, had\naccumulated immense treasures, which he had not duly shared with\nhis sovereign, and thus had obtained an order to supersede him in\nhis Emirship.\n\nThe body of Gaudisso would have been cast out a prey to dogs and\nvultures, had not Sherasmin, under the character of nephew of the\ndeceased, been permitted to receive it, and give it decent burial,\nwhich he did, but not till he had taken possession of the beard\nand grinders, agreeably to the orders of Charlemagne.\n\nNo obstacle now stood in the way of the lovers and their faithful\nfollower in returning to France. They sailed, taking Rome in their\nway, where the Holy Father himself blessed the union of his\nnephew, Duke Huon of Bordeaux, with the Princess Clarimunda.\n\nSoon afterward they arrived in France, where Huon laid his\ntrophies at the feet of Charlemagne, and, being restored to the\nfavor of the Emperor, hastened to present himself and his bride to\nthe Duchess, his mother, and to the faithful liegemen of his\nprovince of Guienne and his city of Bordeaux, where the pair were\nreceived with transports of joy.\n\nOGIER, THE DANE\n\nOGIER, the Dane, was the son of Geoffrey, who wrested Denmark from\nthe Pagans, and reigned the first Christian king of that country.\nWhen Ogier was born, and before he was baptized, six ladies of\nravishing beauty appeared all at once in the chamber of the\ninfant. They encircled him, and she who appeared the eldest took\nhim in her arms, kissed him, and laid her hand upon his heart. \"I\ngive you,\" said she, \"to be the bravest warrior of your times.\"\nShe delivered the infant to her sister, who said, \"I give you\nabundant opportunities to display your valor.\" \"Sister,\" said the\nthird lady, \"you have given him a dangerous boon; I give him that\nhe shall never be vanquished.\" The fourth sister added, as she\nlaid her hand upon his eyes and his mouth, \"I give you the gift of\npleasing.\" The fifth said, \"Lest all these gifts serve only to\nbetray, I give you sensibility to return the love you inspire.\"\nThen spoke Morgana, the youngest and handsomest of the group.\n\"Charming creature, I claim you for my own; and I give you not to\ndie till you shall have come to pay me a visit in my isle of\nAvalon.\" Then she kissed the child and departed with her sisters.\n\nAfter this the king had the child carried to the font and baptized\nwith the name of Ogier.\n\nIn his education nothing was neglected to elevate him to the\nstandard of a perfect knight, and render him accomplished in all\nthe arts necessary to make him a hero.\n\nHe had hardly reached the age of sixteen years when Charlemagne,\nwhose power was established over all the sovereigns of his time,\nrecollected that Geoffroy, Ogier's father, had omitted to render\nthe homage due to him as Emperor, and sovereign lord of Denmark,\none of the grand fiefs of the empire. He accordingly sent an\nembassy to demand of the king of Denmark this homage, and on\nreceiving a refusal, couched in haughty terms, sent an army to\nenforce the demand. Geoffroy, after an unsuccessful resistance,\nwas forced to comply, and as a pledge of his sincerity delivered\nOgier, his eldest son, a hostage to Charles, to be brought up at\nhis court. He was placed in charge of the Duke Namo of Bavaria,\nthe friend of his father, who treated him like his own son.\n\nOgier grew up more and more handsome and amiable every day. He\nsurpassed in form, strength, and address all the noble youths his\ncompanions; he failed not to be present at all tourneys; he was\nattentive to the elder knights, and burned with impatience to\nimitate them. Yet his heart rose sometimes in secret against his\ncondition as a hostage, and as one apparently forgotten by his\nfather.\n\nThe King of Denmark, in fact, was at this time occupied with new\nloves. Ogier's mother having died, he had married a second wife,\nand had a son named Guyon. The new queen had absolute power over\nher husband, and fearing that, if he should see Ogier again, he\nwould give him the preference over Guyon, she had adroitly\npersuaded him to delay rendering his homage to Charlemagne, till\nnow four years had passed away since the last renewal of that\nceremony. Charlemagne, irritated at this delinquency, drew closer\nthe bonds of Ogier's captivity until he should receive a response\nfrom the king of Denmark to a fresh summons which he caused to be\nsent to him.\n\nThe answer of Geoffroy was insulting and defiant, and the rage of\nCharlemagne was roused in the highest degree. He was at first\ndisposed to wreak his vengeance upon Ogier, his hostage; but at\nthe entreaties of Duke Namo, who felt towards his pupil like a\nfather, consented to spare his life, if Ogier would swear fidelity\nto him as his liege-lord, and promise not to quit his court\nwithout his permission. Ogier accepted these terms, and was\nallowed to retain all the freedom he had before enjoyed.\n\nThe Emperor would have immediately taken arms to reduce his\ndisobedient vassal, if he had not been called off in another\ndirection by a message from Pope Leo, imploring his assistance.\nThe Saracens had landed in the neighborhood of Rome, occupied\nMount Janiculum, and prepared to pass the Tiber and carry fire and\nsword to the capital of the Christian world. Charlemagne hesitated\nnot to yield to the entreaties of the Pope. He speedily assembled\nan army, crossed the Alps, traversed Italy, and arrived at\nSpoleto, a strong place to which the Pope had retired. Leo, at the\nhead of his Cardinals, advanced to meet him, and rendered him\nhomage, as to the son of Pepin, the illustrious protector of the\nHoly See, coming, as his father had done, to defend it in the hour\nof need.\n\nCharlemagne stopped but two days at Spoleto, and learning that the\nInfidels, having rendered themselves masters of Rome, were\nbesieging the Capitol, which could not long hold out against them,\nmarched promptly to attack them.\n\nThe advanced posts of the army were commanded by Duke Namo, on\nwhom Ogier waited as his squire. He did not yet bear arms, not\nhaving received the order of knighthood. The Oriflamme, the royal\nstandard, was borne by a knight named Alory, who showed himself\nunworthy of the honor.\n\nDuke Namo, seeing a strong body of the Infidels advancing to\nattack him, gave the word to charge them. Ogier remained in the\nrear, with the other youths, grieving much that he was not\npermitted to fight. Very soon he saw Alory lower the Oriflamme,\nand turn his horse in flight. Ogier pointed him out to the young\nmen, and seizing a club, rushed upon Alory and struck him from his\nhorse. Then, with his companions, he disarmed him, clothed himself\nin his armor, raised the Oriflamme, and mounting the horse of the\nunworthy knight, flew to the front rank, where he joined Duke\nNamo, drove back the Infidels, and carried the Oriflamme quite\nthrough their broken ranks. The Duke, thinking it was Alory, whom\nhe had not held in high esteem, was astonished at his strength and\nvalor. Ogier's young companions imitated him, supplying themselves\nwith armor from the bodies of the slain; they followed Ogier and\ncarried death into the ranks of the Saracens, who fell back in\nconfusion upon their main body.\n\nDuke Namo now ordered a retreat, and Ogier obeyed with reluctance,\nwhen they perceived Charlemagne advancing to their assistance. The\ncombat now became general, and was more terrible than ever.\nCharlemagne had overthrown Corsuble, the commander of the\nSaracens, and had drawn his famous sword, Joyeuse, to cut off his\nhead, when two Saracen knights set upon him at once, one of whom\nslew his horse, and the other overthrew the Emperor on the sand.\nPerceiving by the eagle on his casque who he was, they dismounted\nin haste to give him his deathblow. Never was the life of the\nEmperor in such peril. But Ogier, who saw him fall, flew to his\nrescue. Though embarrassed with the Oriflamme, he pushed his horse\nagainst one of the Saracens and knocked him down; and with his\nsword dealt the other so vigorous a blow that he fell stunned to\nthe earth. Then helping the Emperor to rise, he remounted him on\nthe horse of one of the fallen knights. \"Brave and generous\nAlory!\" Charles exclaimed, \"I owe to you my honor and my life!\"\nOgier made no answer; but, leaving Charlemagne surrounded by a\ngreat many of the knights who had flown to his succor, he plunged\ninto the thickest ranks of the enemy, and carried the Oriflamme,\nfollowed by a gallant train of youthful warriors, till the\nstandard of Mahomet turned in retreat, and the Infidels sought\nsafety in their intrenchments.\n\nThen the good Archbishop Turpin laid aside his helmet and his\nbloody sword (for he always felt that he was clearly in the line\nof his duty while slaying Infidels), took his mitre and his\ncrosier, and intoned Te Deum.\n\nAt this moment Ogier, covered with blood and dust, came to lay the\nOriflamme at the feet of the Emperor. He was followed by a train\nof warriors of short stature, who walked ill at ease loaded with\narmor too heavy for them. Ogier knelt at the feet of Charlemagne,\nwho embraced him, calling him Alory, while Turpin from the height\nof the altar, blessed him with all his might. Then young Orlando,\nson of the Count Milone, and nephew of Charlemagne, no longer able\nto endure this misapprehension, threw down his helmet, and ran to\nunlace Ogier's, while the other young men laid aside theirs. Our\nauthor says he cannot express the surprise, the admiration, and\nthe tenderness of the Emperor and his peers. Charles folded Ogier\nin his arms, and the happy fathers of those brave youths embraced\nthem with tears of joy. The good Duke Namo stepped forward, and\nCharlemagne yielded Ogier to his embrace. \"How much do I owe you,\"\nhe said, \"good and wise friend, for having restrained my anger! My\ndear Ogier! I owe you my life! My sword leaps to touch your\nshoulder, yours and those of your brave young friends.\" At these\nwords he drew that famous sword, Joyeuse, and while Ogier and the\nrest knelt before him, gave them the accolade conferring on them\nthe order of knighthood. The young Orlando and his cousin Oliver\ncould not refrain, even in the presence of the Emperor, from\nfalling upon Ogier's neck, and pledging with him that brotherhood\nin arms, so dear and so sacred to the knights of old times; but\nCharlot, the Emperor's son, at the sight of the glory with which\nOgier had covered himself, conceived the blackest jealousy and\nhate.\n\nThe rest of the day and the next were spent in the rejoicings of\nthe army. Turpin in a solemn service implored the favor of Heaven\nupon the youthful knights, and blessed the white armor which was\nprepared for them. Duke Namo presented them with golden spurs,\nCharles himself girded on their swords. But what was his\nastonishment when he examined that intended for Ogier! The loving\nFairy, Morgana, had had the art to change it, and to substitute\none of her own procuring, and when Charles drew it out of the\nscabbard, these words appeared written on the steel: \"My name is\nCortana, of the same steel and temper as Joyeuse and Durindana.\"\nCharles saw that a superior power watched over the destinies of\nOgier; he vowed to love him as a father would, and Ogier promised\nhim the devotion of a son. Happy had it been for both if they had\nalways continued mindful of their promises.\n\nThe Saracen army had hardly recovered from its dismay when\nCarahue, King of Mauritania, who was one of the knights overthrown\nby Ogier at the time of the rescue of Charlemagne, determined to\nchallenge him to single combat. With that view he assumed the\ndress of a herald, resolved to carry his own message. The French\nknights admired his air, and said to one another that he seemed\nmore fit to be a knight than a bearer of messages.\n\nCarahue began by passing the warmest eulogium upon the knight who\nbore the Oriflamme on the day of the battle, and concluded by\nsaying that Carahue, King of Mauritania, respected that knight so\nmuch that he challenged him to the combat.\n\nOgier had risen to reply, when he was interrupted by Charlot, who\nsaid that the gage of the King of Mauritania could not fitly be\nreceived by a vassal, living in captivity; by which he meant\nOgier, who was at that time serving as hostage for his father.\nFire flashed from the eyes of Ogier, but the presence of the\nEmperor restrained his speech, and he was calmed by the kind looks\nof Charlemagne, who said, with an angry voice, \"Silence, Charlot!\nBy the life of Bertha, my queen, he who has saved my life is as\ndear to me as yourself. Ogier,\" he continued, \"you are no longer a\nhostage. Herald! report my answer to your master, that never does\nknight of my court refuse a challenge on equal terms. Ogier, the\nDane, accepts of his, and I myself am his security.\"\n\nCarahue, profoundly bowing, replied, \"My lord, I was sure that the\nsentiments of so great a sovereign as yourself would be worthy of\nyour high and brilliant fame; I shall report your answer to my\nmaster, who I know admires you, and unwillingly takes arms against\nyou.\" Then, turning to Charlot, whom he did not know as the son of\nthe Emperor, he continued, \"As for you, Sir Knight, if the desire\nof battle inflames you, I have it in charge from Sadon, cousin of\nthe King of Mauritania, to give the like defiance to any French\nknights who will grant him the honor of the combat.\"\n\nCharlot, inflamed with rage and vexation at the public reproof\nwhich he had just received, hesitated not to deliver his gage.\nCarahue received it with Ogier's, and it was agreed that the\ncombat should be on the next day in a meadow environed by woods\nand equally distant from both armies.\n\nThe perfidious Charlot meditated the blackest treason. During the\nnight he collected some knights unworthy of the name, and like\nhimself in their ferocious manners; he made them swear to avenge\nhis injuries, armed them in black armor, and sent them to lie in\nambush in the wood, with orders to make a pretended attack upon\nthe whole party, but in fact, to lay heavy hands upon Ogier and\nthe two Saracens.\n\nAt the dawn of day Sadon and Carahue, attended tonly by two pages\nto carry their spears, took their way to the appointed meadow; and\nCharlot and Ogier repaired thither also, but by different paths.\nOgier advanced with a calm air, saluted courteously the two\nSaracen knights, and joined them in arranging the terms of combat.\n\nWhile this was going on the perfidious Charlot remained behind and\ngave his men the signal to advance. That cowardly troop issued\nfrom the wood and encompassed the three knights. All three were\nequally surprised at the attack, but neither of them suspected the\nother to have any hand in the treason. Seeing the attack made\nequally upon them all, they united their efforts to resist it, and\nmade the most forward of the assailants bite the dust. Cortana\nfell on no one without inflicting a mortal wound, but the sword of\nCarahue was not of equal temper and broke in his hands. At the\nsame instant his horse was slain, and Carahue fell, without a\nweapon, and entangled with his prostrate horse. Ogier, who saw it,\nran to his defence, and leaping to the ground covered the prince\nwith his shield, supplied him with the sword of one of the fallen\nruffians, and would have him mount his own horse. At that moment\nCharlot, inflamed with rage, pushed his horse upon Ogier, knocked\nhim down, and would have run him through with his lance if Sadon,\nwho saw the treason, had not sprung upon him and thrust him back.\nCarahue leapt lightly upon the horse which Ogier presented him,\nand had time only to exclaim, \"Brave Ogier, I am no longer your\nenemy, I pledge to you an eternal friendship,\" when numerous\nSaracen knights were seen approaching, having discovered the\ntreachery, and Charlot with his followers took refuge in the wood.\n\nThe troop which advanced was commanded by Dannemont, the exiled\nking of Denmark, whom Geoffroy, Ogier's father, had driven from\nhis throne and compelled to take refuge with the Saracens.\nLearning who Ogier was, he instantly declared him his prisoner, in\nspite of the urgent remonstrances and even threats of Carahue and\nSadon, and carried him under a strong guard to the Saracen camp.\nHere he was at first subjected to the most rigorous captivity, but\nCarahue and Sadon insisted so vehemently on his release,\nthreatening to turn their arms against their own party if it was\nnot granted, while Dannemont as eagerly opposed the measure, that\nCorsuble, the Saracen commander, consented to a middle course, and\nallowed Ogier the freedom of his camp, upon his promise not to\nleave it without permission.\n\nCarahue was not satisfied with this partial concession. He left\nthe city next morning, proceeded to the camp of Charlemagne, and\ndemanded to be led to the Emperor. When he reached his presence he\ndismounted from his horse, took off his helmet, drew his sword,\nand holding it by the blade presented it to Charlemagne as he\nknelt before him.\n\n\"Illustrious prince,\" he said, \"behold before you the herald who\nbrought the challenge to your knights from the King of Mauritania.\nThe cowardly old King Dannemont has made the brave Ogier prisoner,\nand has prevailed on our general to refuse to give him up. I come\nto make amends for this ungenerous conduct by yielding myself,\nCarahue, King of Mauritania, your prisoner.\"\n\nCharlemagne, with all his peers, admired the magnanimity of\nCarahue; he raised him, embraced him, and restored to him his\nsword. \"Prince,\" said he, \"your presence and the bright example\nyou afford my knights consoles me for the loss of Ogier. Would to\nGod you might receive our holy faith, and be wholly united with\nus.\" All the lords of the court, led by Duke Namo, paid their\nrespects to the King of Mauritania. Charlot only failed to appear,\nfearing to be recognized as a traitor; but the heart of Carahue\nwas too noble to pierce that of Charlemagne by telling him the\ntreachery of his son.\n\nMeanwhile the Saracen army was rent by discord. The troops of\nCarahue clamored against the commander-in-chief because their king\nwas left in captivity. They even threatened to desert the cause\nand turn their arms against their allies. Charlemagne pressed the\nsiege vigorously, till at length the Saracen leaders found\nthemselves compelled to abandon the city and betake themselves to\ntheir ships. A truce was made; Ogier was exchanged for Carahue,\nand the two friends embraced one another with vows of perpetual\nbrotherhood. The Pope was reestablished in his dominions, and\nItaly being tranquil, Charlemagne returned with his peers and\ntheir followers to France.\n\nOGIER, THE DANE (Continued)\n\nCHARLEMAGNE had not forgotten the offence of Geoffroy, the King of\nDenmark, in withholding homage, and now prepared to enforce\nsubmission. But at this crisis he was waited upon by an embassy\nfrom Geoffroy, acknowledging his fault, and craving assistance\nagainst an army of invaders who had attacked his states with a\nforce which he was unable to repel. The soul of Charlemagne was\ntoo great to be implacable, and he took this opportunity to test\nthat of Ogier, who had felt acutely the unkindness of his father,\nin leaving him, without regard or notice, fifteen years in\ncaptivity. Charles asked Ogier whether, in spite of his father's\nneglect, he was disposed to lead an army to his assistance. He\nreplied, \"A son can never be excused from helping his father by\nany cause short of death.\" Charlemagne placed an army of a\nthousand knights under the command of Ogier, and great numbers\nmore volunteered to march under so distinguished a leader. He flew\nto the succor of his father, repelled the invaders, and drove them\nin confusion to their vessels. Ogier then hastened to the capital,\nbut as he drew near the city he heard all the bells sounding a\nknell. He soon learned the cause; it was the obsequies of\nGeoffroy, the King. Ogier felt keenly the grief of not having been\npermitted to embrace his father once more, and to learn his latest\ncommands; but he found that his father had declared him heir to\nhis throne. He hastened to the church where the body lay; he knelt\nand bathed the lifeless form with his tears. At that moment a\ncelestial light beamed all around, and a voice of an angel said,\n\"Ogier, leave thy crown to Guyon, thy brother, and bear no other\ntitle than that of 'The Dane.' Thy destiny is glorious, and other\nkingdoms are reserved for thee.\" Ogier obeyed the divine behest.\nHe saluted his stepmother respectfully, and embracing his brother,\ntold him that he was content with his lot in being reckoned among\nthe paladins of Charlemagne, and resigned all claims to the crown\nof Denmark.\n\nOgier returned covered with glory to the court of Charlemagne, and\nthe Emperor, touched with this proof of his attachment, loaded him\nwith caresses, and treated him almost as an equal.\n\nWe pass in silence the adventures of Ogier for several ensuing\nyears, in which the fairy-gifts of his infancy showed their force\nin making him successful in all enterprises, both of love and war.\nHe married the charming Belicene, and became the father of young\nBaldwin, a youth who seemed to inherit in full measure the\nstrength and courage of his father and the beauty of his mother.\nWhen the lad was old enough to be separated from his mother, Ogier\ntook him to court and presented him to Charlemagne, who embraced\nhim and took him into his service. It seemed to Duke Namo, and all\nthe elder knights, as if they saw in him Ogier himself, as he was\nwhen a youth; and this resemblance won for the lad their kind\nregards. Even Charlot at first seemed to be fond of him, though\nafter a while the resemblance to Ogier which he noticed had the\neffect to excite his hatred.\n\nBaldwin was attentive to Charlot, and lost no occasion to be\nserviceable. The Prince loved to play chess, and Baldwin, who\nplayed well, often made a party with him.\n\nOne day Charlot was nettled at losing two pieces in succession; he\nthought he could, by taking a piece from Baldwin, get some amends\nfor his loss; but Baldwin, seeing him fall into a trap which he\nhad set for him, could not help a slight laugh, as he said,\n\"Check-mate.\" Chariot rose in a fury, seized the rich and heavy\nchess-board, and dashed it with all his strength on the head of\nBaldwin, who fell, and died where he fell.\n\nFrightened at his own crime, and fearing the vengeance of the\nterrible Ogier, Charlot concealed himself in the interior of the\npalace. A young companion of Baldwin hastened and informed Ogier\nof the event. He ran to the chamber, and beheld the body of his\nchild bathed in blood, and it could not be concealed from him that\nCharlot gave the blow. Transported with rage, Ogier sought Charlot\nthrough the palace, and Charlot, feeling safe nowhere else, took\nrefuge in the hall of Charlemagne, where he seated himself at\ntable with Duke Namo and Salomon, Duke of Brittany. Ogier, with\nsword drawn, followed him to the very table of the Emperor. When a\ncupbearer attempted to bar his way he struck the cup from his hand\nand dashed the contents in the Emperor's face. Charles rose in a\npassion, seized a knife, and would have plunged it into his\nbreast, had not Salomon and another baron thrown themselves\nbetween, while Namo, who had retained his ancient influence over\nOgier, drew him out of the room. Foreseeing the consequence of\nthis violence, pitying Ogier, and in his heart excusing him, Namo\nhurried him away before the guards of the palace could arrest him,\nmade him mount his horse, and leave Paris.\n\nCharlemagne called together his peers, and made them take an oath\nto do all in their power to arrest Ogier, and bring him to condign\npunishment. Ogier on his part sent messages to the Emperor,\noffering to give himself up on condition that Charlot should be\npunished for his atrocious crime. The Emperor would listen to no\nconditions, and went in pursuit of Ogier at the head of a large\nbody of soldiers. Ogier, on the other hand, was warmly supported\nby many knights, who pledged themselves in his defence. The\ncontest raged long, with no decisive results. Ogier more than once\nhad the Emperor in his power, but declined to avail himself of his\nadvantage, and released him without conditions. He even implored\npardon for himself, but demanded at the same time the punishment\nof Charlot. But Charlemagne was too blindly fond of his unworthy\nson to subject him to punishment for the sake of conciliating one\nwho had been so deeply injured.\n\nAt length, distressed at the blood which his friends had lost in\nhis cause, Ogier dismissed his little army, and slipping away from\nthose who wished to attend him, took his course to rejoin the Duke\nGuyon, his brother. On his way, having reached the forest of\nArdennes, weary with long travel, the freshness of a retired\nvalley tempted him to lie down to take some repose. He unsaddled\nBeiffror, relieved himself of his helmet, lay down on the turf,\nrested his head on his shield, and slept.\n\nIt so happened that Turpin, who occasionally recalled to mind that\nhe was Archbishop of Rheins, was at that time in the vicinity,\nmaking a pastoral visit to the churches under his jurisdiction.\nBut his dignity of peer of France, and his martial spirit, which\ncaused him to be reckoned among the \"preux chevaliers\" of his\ntime, forbade him to travel without as large a retinue of knights\nas he had of clergymen. One of these was thirsty, and knowing the\nfountain on the borders of which Ogier was reposing, he rode to\nit, and was struck by the sight of a knight stretched on the\nground. He hastened back, and let the Archbishop know, who\napproached the fountain, and recognized Ogier.\n\nThe first impulse of the good and generous Turpin was to save his\nfriend, for whom he felt the warmest attachment; but his\narchdeacons and knights, who also recognized Ogier, reminded the\nArchbishop of the oath which the Emperor had exacted of them all.\nTurpin could not be false to his oath; but it was not without a\ngroan that he permitted his followers to bind the sleeping knight.\nThe Archbishop's attendants secured the horse and arms of Ogier,\nand conducted their prisoner to the Emperor at Soissons.\n\nThe Emperor had become so much embittered by Ogier's obstinate\nresistance, added to his original fault, that he was disposed to\norder him to instant death. But Turpin, seconded by the good Dukes\nNamo and Salomon, prayed so hard for him that Charlemagne\nconsented to remit a violent death, but sentenced him to close\nimprisonment, under the charge of the Archbishop, strictly\nlimiting his food to one quarter of a loaf of bread per day, with\none piece of meat, and a quarter of a cup of wine. In this way he\nhoped to quickly put an end to his life without bringing on\nhimself the hostility of the King of Denmark, and other powerful\nfriends of Ogier. He exacted a new oath of Turpin to obey his\norder strictly.\n\nThe good Archbishop loved Ogier too well not to cast about for\nsome means of saving his life, which he foresaw he would soon lose\nif subjected to such scanty fare, for Ogier was seven feet tall,\nand had an appetite in proportion. Turpin remembered, moreover,\nthat Ogier was a true son of the Church, always zealous to\npropagate the faith and subdue unbelievers; so he felt justified\nin practising on this occasion what in later times has been\nentitled \"mental reservation,\" without swerving from the letter of\nthe oath which he had taken. This is the method he hit upon.\n\nEvery morning he had his prisoner supplied with a quarter of a\nloaf of bread, made of two bushels of flour, to this he added a\nquarter of a sheep or a fat calf, and he had a cup made which held\nforty pints of wine, and allowed Ogier a quarter of it daily.\n\nOgier's imprisonment lasted long; Charlemagne was astonished to\nhear, from time to time, that he still held out; and when he\ninquired more particularly of Turpin, the good Archbishop, relying\non his own understanding of the words, did not hesitate to affirm\npositively that he allowed his prisoner no more than the permitted\nration.\n\nWe forgot to say that, when Ogier was led prisoner to Soissons,\nthe Abbot of Saint Faron, observing the fine horse Beiffror, and\nnot having at the time any other favor to ask of Charlemagne,\nbegged the Emperor to give him the horse, and had him taken to his\nabbey. He was impatient to try his new acquisition, and when he\nhad arrived in his litter at the foot of the mountain where the\nhorse had been brought to meet him mounted him and rode onward.\nThe horse, accustomed to bear the enormous weight of Ogier in his\narmor, when he perceived nothing on his back but the light weight\nof the Abbot, whose long robes fluttered against his sides, ran\naway, making prodigious leaps over the steep acclivities of the\nmountain till he reached the convent of Jouaire, where, in sight\nof the Abbess and her nuns, he threw the Abbot, already half dead\nwith fright, to the ground. The Abbot, bruised and mortified,\nrevenged himself on poor Beiffror, whom he condemned, in his\nwrath, to be given to the workmen to drag stones for a chapel that\nhe was building near the abbey. Thus, ill-fed, hard-worked, and\noften beaten, the noble horse Beiffror passed the time while his\nmaster's imprisonment lasted.\n\nThat imprisonment would have been as long as his life if it had\nnot been for some important events which forced the Emperor to set\nOgier at liberty.\n\nThe Emperor learned at the same time that Carahue, King of\nMauritania, was assembling an army to come and demand the\nliberation of Ogier; that Guyon, King of Denmark, was prepared to\nsecond the enterprise with all his forces; and, worse than all,\nthat the Saracens, under Bruhier, Sultan of Arabia, had landed in\nGascony, taken Bordeaux, and were marching with all speed for\nParis.\n\nCharlemagne now felt how necessary the aid of Ogier was to him.\nBut, in spite of the representations of Turpin, Namo, and Salomon,\nhe could not bring himself to consent to surrender Charlot to such\npunishment as Ogier should see fit to impose. Besides, he believed\nthat Ogier was without strength and vigor, weakened by\nimprisonment and long abstinence.\n\nAt this crisis he received a message from Bruhier, proposing to\nput the issue upon the result of a combat between himself and the\nEmperor or his champion; promising, if defeated, to withdraw his\narmy. Charlemagne would willingly have accepted the challenge, but\nhis counsellors all opposed it. The herald was therefore told that\nthe Emperor would take time to consider his proposition, and give\nhis answer the next day.\n\nIt was during this interval that the three Dukes succeeded in\nprevailing upon Charlemagne to pardon Ogier, and to send for him\nto combat the puissant enemy who now defied him; but it was no\neasy task to persuade Ogier. The idea of his long imprisonment and\nthe recollection of his son, bleeding and dying in his arms by the\nblow of the ferocious Charlot, made him long resist the urgency of\nhis friends. Though glory called him to encounter Bruhier, and the\nsafety of Christendom demanded the destruction of this proud enemy\nof the faith, Ogier only yielded at last on condition that Charlot\nshould be delivered into his hands to be dealt with as he should\nsee fit.\n\nThe terms were hard, but the danger was pressing, and Charlemagne,\nwith a returning sense of justice, and a strong confidence in the\ngenerous though passionate soul of Ogier, at last consented to\nthem.\n\nOgier was led into the presence of Charlemagne by the three peers.\nThe Emperor, faithful to his word, had caused Charlot to be\nbrought into the hall where the high barons were assembled, his\nhands tied, and his head uncovered. When the Emperor saw Ogier\napproach he took Charlot by the arm, led him towards Ogier, and\nsaid these words: \"I surrender the criminal; do with him as you\nthink fit.\" Ogier, without replying, seized Charlot by the hair,\nforced him on his knees, and lifted with the other hand his\nirresistible sword. Charlemagne, who expected to see the head of\nhis son rolling at his feet, shut his eyes and uttered a cry of\nhorror.\n\nOgier had done enough. The next moment he raised Charlot, cut his\nbonds, kissed him on the mouth, and hastened to throw himself at\nthe feet of the Emperor.\n\nNothing can exceed the surprise and joy of Charlemagne at seeing\nhis son unharmed and Ogier kneeling at his feet. He folded him in\nhis arms, bathed him with tears, and exclaimed to his barons, \"I\nfeel at this moment that Ogier is greater than I.\" As for Charlot,\nhis base soul felt nothing but the joy of having escaped death; he\nremained such as he had been, and it was not till some years\nafterwards he received the punishment he deserved, from the hands\nof Huon of Bordeaux, as we have seen in a former chapter.\n\nOGIER, THE DANE (Continued)\n\nWHEN Charlemagne had somewhat recovered his composure he was\nsurprised to observe that Ogier appeared in good case, and had a\nhealthy color in his cheeks. He turned to the Archbishop, who\ncould not help blushing as he met his eye. \"By the head of Bertha,\nmy queen,\" said Charlemagne, \"Ogier has had good quarters in your\ncastle, my Lord Archbishop; but so much the more am I indebted to\nyou.\" All the barons laughed and jested with Turpin, who only\nsaid, \"Laugh as much as you please, my lords; but for my part I am\nnot sorry to see the arm in full vigor that is to avenge us on the\nproud Saracen.\"\n\nCharlemagne immediately despatched his herald, accepting the\nchallenge, and appointing the next day but one for the encounter.\nThe proud and crafty Bruhier laughed scornfully when he heard the\nreply accepting his challenge, for he had a reliance on certain\nresources besides his natural strength and skill. However, he\nswore by Mahomet to observe the conditions as proposed and agreed\nupon.\n\nOgier now demanded his armor, and it was brought to him in\nexcellent condition, for the good Turpin had kept it faithfully;\nbut it was not easy to provide a horse for the occasion.\nCharlemagne had the best horses of his stables brought out, except\nBlanchard, his own charger; but all in vain, the weight of Ogier\nbent their backs to the ground. In this embarrassment the\nArchbishop remembered that the Emperor had given Beiffror to the\nAbbot of St. Faron, and sent off a courier in haste to re-demand\nhim.\n\nMonks are hard masters, and the one who directed the laborers at\nthe abbey had but too faithfully obeyed the orders of the Abbot.\nPoor Beiffror was brought back, lean, spiritless, and chafed with\nthe harness of the vile cart that he had had to draw so long. He\ncarried his head down, and trod heavily before Charlemagne; but\nwhen he heard the voice of Ogier he raised his head, he neighed,\nhis eyes flashed, his former ardor showed itself by the force with\nwhich he pawed the ground. Ogier caressed him, and the good steed\nseemed to return his caresses; Ogier mounted him, and Beiffror,\nproud of carrying his master again, leapt and curvetted with all\nhis youthful vigor.\n\nNothing being now wanted, Charlemagne, at the head of his army,\nmarched forth from the city of Paris, and occupied the hill of\nMontmartre, whence the view extended over the plain of St. Denis,\nwhere the battle was to be fought.\n\nWhen the appointed day came the Dukes Namo and Salomon, as seconds\nof Ogier, accompanied him to the place marked out for the lists,\nand Bruhier, with two distinguished Emirs, presented himself on\nthe other side.\n\nBruhier was in high spirits, and jested with his friends, as he\nadvanced, upon the appearance of Beiffror. \"Is that the horse they\npresume to match with Marchevallee, the best steed that ever fed\nin the vales of Mount Atlas?\" But now the combatants, having met\nand saluted each other, ride apart to come together in full\ncareer. Beiffror flew over the plain, and met the adversary more\nthan half-way. The lances of the two combatants were shivered at\nthe shock, and Bruhier was astonished to see almost at the same\ninstant the sword of Ogier gleaming above his head. He parried it\nwith his buckler, and gave Ogier a blow on his helmet, who\nreturned it with another, better aimed or better seconded by the\ntemper of his blade, for it cut away part of Bruhier's helmet, and\nwith it his ear and part of his cheek. Ogier, seeing the blood,\ndid not immediately repeat his blow, and Bruhier seized the moment\nto gallop off at one side. As he rode he took a vase of gold which\nhung at his saddle-bow, and bathed with its contents the wounded\npart. The blood instantly ceased to flow, the ear and the flesh\nwere restored quite whole, and the Dane was astonished to see his\nantagonist return to the ground as sound as ever.\n\nBruhier laughed at his amazement. \"Know,\" said he, \"that I possess\nthe precious balm that Joseph of Arimathea used upon the body of\nthe crucified one, whom you worship. If I should lose an arm I\ncould restore it with a few drops of this. It is useless for you\nto contend with me. Yield yourself, and, as you appear to be a\nstrong fellow, I will make you first oarsman in one of my\ngalleys.\"\n\nOgier, though boiling with rage, forgot not to implore the\nassistance of Heaven. \"O Lord!\" he exclaimed, \"suffer not the\nenemy of thy name to profit by the powerful help of that which\nowes all its virtue to thy divine blood.\" At these words he\nattacked Bruhier again with more vigor than ever; both struck\nterrible blows, and made grievous wounds; but the blood flowed\nfrom those of Ogier, while Bruhier stanched his by the application\nof his balm. Ogier, desperate at the unequal contest, grasped\nCortana with both hands, and struck his enemy such a blow that it\ncleft his buckler, and cut off his arm with it; but Bruhier at the\nsame time launched one at Ogier, which, missing him, struck the\nhead of Beiffror, and the good horse fell, and drew down his\nmaster in his fall.\n\nBruhier had time to leap to the ground, to pick up his arm and\napply his balsam; then, before Ogier had recovered his footing, he\nrushed forward with sword uplifted to complete his destruction.\n\nCharlemagne, from the height of Montmartre, seeing the brave Ogier\nin this situation, groaned, and was ready to murmur against\nProvidence; but the good Turpin, raising his arms, with a faith\nlike that of Moses, drew down upon the Christian warrior the favor\nof Heaven.\n\nOgier, promptly disengaging himself, pressed Bruhier with so much\nimpetuosity that he drove him to a distance from his horse, to\nwhose saddle-bow the precious balm was suspended; and very soon\nCharlemagne saw Ogier, now completely in the advantage, bring his\nenemy to his knees, tear off his helmet, and, with a sweep of his\nsword, strike his head from his body.\n\nAfter the victory, Ogier seized Marchevallee, leaped upon his\nback, and became possessed of the precious flask, a few drops from\nwhich closed his wounds and restored his strength. The French\nknights who had been Bruhier's captives, now released, pressed\nround Ogier to thank him for their deliverance.\n\nCharlemagne and his nobles, as soon as their attention was\nrelieved from the single combat, perceived from their elevated\nposition an unusual agitation in the enemy's camp. They attributed\nit at first to the death of their general, but soon the noise of\narms, the cries of combatants, and new standards which advanced,\ndisclosed to them the fact that Bruhier's army was attacked by a\nnew enemy.\n\nThe Emperor was right; it was the brave Carahue of Mauritania,\nwho, with an army, had arrived in France, resolved to attempt the\nliberation of Ogier, his brother in arms. Learning on his arrival\nthe changed aspect of affairs, he hesitated not to render a signal\nservice to the Emperor, by attacking the army of Bruhier in the\nmidst of the consternation occasioned by the loss of its\ncommander.\n\nOgier recognized the standard of his friend, and leaping upon\nMarchevallee, flew to aid his attack. Charlemagne followed with\nhis army; and the Saracen host, after an obstinate conflict, was\nforced to surrender unconditionally.\n\nThe interview of Ogier and Carahue was such as might be\nanticipated of two such attached friends and accomplished knights.\nCharlemagne went to meet them, embraced them, and putting the King\nof Mauritania on his right and Ogier on his left, returned with\ntriumph to Paris. There the Empress Bertha and the ladies of her\ncourt crowned them with laurels, and the sage and gallant\nEginhard, chamberlain and secretary of the Emperor, wrote all\nthese great events in his history.\n\nA few days after Guyon, King of Denmark, arrived in France with a\nchosen band of knights, and sent an ambassador to Charlemagne, to\nsay that he came, not as an enemy, but to render homage to him as\nthe best knight of the time and the head of the Christian world.\nCharlemagne gave the ambassador a cordial reception, and mounting\nhis horse, rode forward to meet the King of Denmark.\n\nThese great princes, being assembled at the court of Charles, held\ncouncil together, and the ancient and sage barons were called to\njoin it.\n\nIt was decided that the united Danish and Mauritanian armies\nshould cross the sea and carry the war to the country of the\nSaracens, and that a thousand French knights should range\nthemselves under the banner of Ogier, the Dane, who, though not a\nking, should have equal rank with the two others.\n\nWe have not space to record all the illustrious actions performed\nby Ogier and his allies in this war. Suffice it to say, they\nsubdued the Saracens of Ptolemais and Judaea, and, erecting those\nregions into a kingdom, placed the crown upon the head of Ogier.\nGuyon and Carahue then left him, to return to their respective\ndominions. Ogier adopted Walter, the son of Guyon of Denmark, to\nbe his successor in his kingdom. He superintended his education,\nand saw the young prince grow up worthy of his cares. But Ogier,\nin spite of all the honors of his rank, often regretted the court\nof Charlemagne, the Duke Namo, and Salomon of Brittany, for whom\nhe had the respect and attachment of a son. At last, finding\nWalter old enough to sustain the weight of government, Ogier\ncaused a vessel to be prepared secretly, and, attended only by one\nsquire, left his palace by night, and embarked to return to\nFrance.\n\nThe vessel, driven by a fair wind, cut the sea with the swiftness\nof a bird; but on a sudden it deviated from its course, no longer\nobeyed the helm, and sped fast towards a black promontory which\nstretched into the sea. This was a mountain of loadstone, and, its\nattractive power increasing as the distance diminished, the vessel\nat last flew with the swiftness of an arrow towards it, and was\ndashed to pieces on its rocky base. Ogier alone saved himself, and\nreached the shore on a fragment of the wreck.\n\nOgier advanced into the country, looking for some marks of\ninhabitancy, but found none. On a sudden he encountered two\nmonstrous animals, covered with glittering scales, accompanied by\na horse breathing fire. Ogier drew his sword and prepared to\ndefend himself; but the monsters, terrific as they appeared, made\nno attempt to assail him, and the horse, Papillon, knelt down, and\nappeared to court Ogier to mount upon his back. Ogier hesitated\nnot to see the adventure through; he mounted Papillon, who ran\nwith speed, and soon cleared the rocks and precipices which hemmed\nin and concealed a beautiful landscape. He continued his course\ntill he reached a magnificent palace, and, without allowing Ogier\ntime to admire it, crossed a grand court-yard adorned with\ncolonnades, and entered a garden, where, making his way through\nalleys of myrtle, he checked his course, and knelt down on the\nenamelled turf of a fountain.\n\nOgier dismounted and took some steps along the margin of the\nstream, but was soon stopped by meeting a young beauty, such as\nthey paint the Graces, and almost as lightly attired as they. At\nthe same moment, to his amazement, his armor fell off of its own\naccord. The young beauty advanced with a tender air, and placed\nupon his head a crown of flowers. At that instant the Danish hero\nlost his memory; his combats, his glory, Charlemagne and his\ncourt, all vanished from his mind; he saw only Morgana, he desired\nnothing but to sigh forever at her feet.\n\nWe abridge the narrative of all the delights which Ogier enjoyed\nfor more than a hundred years. Time flew by, leaving no impression\nof its flight. Morgana's youthful charms did not decay, and Ogier\nhad none of those warnings of increasing years which less favored\nmortals never fail to receive. There is no knowing how long this\nblissful state might have lasted, if it had not been for an\naccident, by which Morgana one day, in a sportive moment, snatched\nthe crown from his head. That moment Ogier regained his memory,\nand lost his contentment. The recollection of Charlemagne, and of\nhis own relatives and friends, saddened the hours which he passed\nwith Morgana. The fairy saw with grief the changed looks of her\nlover. At last she drew from him the acknowledgment that he wished\nto go, at least for a time, to revisit Charles's court. She\nconsented with reluctance, and with her own hands helped to\nreinvest him with his armor. Papillon was led forth, Ogier mounted\nhim, and, taking a tender adieu of the tearful Morgana, crossed at\nrapid speed the rocky belt which separated Morgana's palace from\nthe borders of the sea. The sea-goblins which had received him at\nhis coming awaited him on the shore. One of them took Ogier on his\nback, and the other placing himself under Papillon, they spread\ntheir broad fins, and in a short time traversed the wide space\nthat separates the isle of Avalon from France. They landed Ogier\non the coast of Languedoc, and then plunged into the sea and\ndisappeared.\n\nOgier remounted on Papillon, who carried him across the kingdom\nalmost as fast as he had passed the sea. He arrived under the\nwalls of Paris, which he would scarcely have recognized if the\nhigh towers of St. Genevieve had not caught his eye. He went\nstraight to the palace of Charlemagne, which seemed to him to have\nbeen entirely rebuilt. His surprise was extreme, and increased\nstill more on finding that he understood with difficulty the\nlanguage of the guards and attendants in replying to his\nquestions; and seeing them smile as they tried to explain to one\nanother the language in which he addressed them. Presently the\nattention of some of the barons who were going to court was\nattracted to the scene, and Ogier, who recognized the badges of\ntheir rank, addressed them, and inquired if the Dukes Namo and\nSalomon were still residing at the Emperor's court. At this\nquestion the barons looked at one another in amazement; and one of\nthe eldest said to the rest, \"How much this knight resembles the\nportrait of my grand-uncle, Ogier the Dane.\" \"Ah! my dear nephew,\nI am Ogier the Dane,\" said he; and he remembered that Morgana had\ntold him that he was little aware of the flight of time during his\nabode with her.\n\nThe barons, more astonished than ever, concluded to conduct him to\nthe monarch who then reigned, the great Hugh Capet.\n\nThe brave Ogier entered the palace without hesitation; but when,\non reaching the royal hall, the barons directed him to make his\nobeisance to the King of France, he was astonished to see a man of\nshort stature and large head, whose air, nevertheless, was noble\nand martial, seated upon the throne on which he had so often seen\nCharlemagne, the tallest and handsomest sovereign of his time.\n\nOgier recounted his adventures with simplicity and affectedness.\nHugh Capet was slow to believe him; but Ogier recalled so many\nproofs and circumstances, that at last he was forced to recognize\nthe aged warrior to be the famous Ogier the Dane.\n\nThe king informed Ogier of the events which had taken place during\nhis long absence; that the line of Charlemagne was extinct; that a\nnew dynasty had commenced; that the old enemies of the kingdom,\nthe Saracens, were still troublesome; and that at that very time\nan army of those miscreants was besieging the city of Chartres, to\nwhich he was about to repair in a few days to its relief. Ogier,\nalways inflamed with the love of glory, offered the service of his\narm, which the illustrious monarch accepted graciously, and\nconducted him to the queen. The astonishment of Ogier was\nredoubled when he saw the new ornaments and head-dresses of the\nladies; still, the beautiful hair which they built up on their\nforeheads, and the feathers interwoven, which waved with so much\ngrace, gave them a noble air that delighted him. His admiration\nincreased when, instead of the old Empress Bertha, he saw a young\nqueen who combined a majestic mien with the graces of her time of\nlife, and manners candid and charming, suited to attach all\nhearts. Ogier saluted the youthful queen with a respect so\nprofound that many of the courtiers took him for a foreigner, or\nat least for some nobleman brought up at a distance from Paris,\nwho retained the manners of what they called the old court.\n\nWhen the queen was informed by her husband that it was the\ncelebrated Ogier the Dane whom he presented to her, whose\nmemorable exploits she had often read in the chronicles of\nantiquity, her surprise was extreme, which was increased when she\nremarked the dignity of his address, the animation and even the\nyouthfulness of his countenance. This queen had too much\nintelligence to believe hastily; proof alone could compel her\nassent; and she asked him many questions about the old court of\nCharlemagne, and received such instructive and appropriate answers\nas removed every doubt. It is to the corrections which Ogier was\nat that time enabled to make to the popular narratives of his\nexploits that we are indebted for the perfect accuracy and\ntrustworthiness of all the details of our own history.\n\nKing Hugh Capet, having received that same evening couriers from\nthe inhabitants of Chartres, informing him that they were hard\npressed by the besiegers, resolved to hasten with Ogier to their\nrelief.\n\nOgier terminated this affair as expeditiously as he had so often\ndone others. The Saracens having dared to offer battle, he bore\nthe Oriflamme through the thickest of their ranks; Papillon,\nbreathing fire from his nostrils, threw them into disorder, and\nCortana, wielded by his invincible arm, soon finished their\noverthrow.\n\nThe king, victorious over the Saracens, led back the Danish hero\nto Paris, where the deliverer of France received the honors due to\nhis valor. Ogier continued some time at the court, detained by the\nfavor of the king and queen; but erelong he had the pain to\nwitness the death of the king. Then it was that, impressed with\nall the perfections which he had discerned in the queen, he could\nnot withhold the tender homage of the offer of his hand. The queen\nwould perhaps have accepted it, she had even called a meeting of\nher great barons to deliberate on the proposition, when, the day\nbefore the meeting was to be held, at the moment when Ogier was\nkneeling at her feet, she perceived a crown of gold which an\ninvisible hand had placed on his brow, and in an instant a cloud\nenveloped Ogier, and he disappeared forever from her sight. It was\nMorgana, the fairy, whose jealousy was awakened at what she\nbeheld, who now resumed her power, and took him away to dwell with\nher in the island of Avalon. There, in company with the great King\nArthur of Britain, he still lives, and when his illustrious friend\nshall return to resume his ancient reign he will doubtless return\nwith him, and share his triumph.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nGLOSSARY\n\n\nAbdalrahman, founder of the independent Ommiad (Saracenic) power\nin Spain, conquered at Tours by Charles Martel\n\nAberfraw, scene of nuptials of Branwen and Matholch\n\nAbsyrtus, younger brother of Medea\n\nAbydos, a town on the Hellespont, nearly opposite to Sestos\n\nAbyla, Mount, or Columna, a mountain in Morocco, near Ceuta, now\ncalled Jebel Musa or Ape's Hill, forming the Northwestern\nextremity of the African coast opposite Gibraltar (See Pillars of\nHercules)\n\nAcestes, son of a Trojan woman who was sent by her father to\nSicily, that she might not be devoured by the monsters which\ninfested the territory of Troy\n\nAcetes, Bacchanal captured by Pentheus\n\nAchates, faithful friend and companion of Aeneas\n\nAchelous, river-god of the largest river in Greece--his Horn of\nPlenty\n\nAchilles, the hero of the Iliad, son of Peleus and of the Nereid\nThetis, slain by Paris\n\nAcis, youth loved by Galatea and slain by Polyphemus\n\nAcontius, a beautiful youth, who fell in love with Cydippe, the\ndaughter of a noble Athenian.\n\nAcrisius, son of Abas, king of Argos, grandson of Lynceus, the\ngreat-grandson of Danaus.\n\nActaeon, a celebrated huntsman, son of Aristaeus and Autonoe, who,\nhaving seen Diana bathing, was changed by her to a stag and killed\nby his own dogs.\n\nAdmeta, daughter of Eurystheus, covets Hippolyta's girdle.\n\nAdmetus, king of Thessaly, saved from death by Alcestis\n\nAdonis, a youth beloved by Aphrodite (Venus), and Proserpine;\nkilled by a boar.\n\nAdrastus, a king of Argos.\n\nAeacus, son of Zeus (Jupiter) and Aegina, renowned in all Greece\nfor his justice and piety.\n\nAeaea, Circe's island, visited by Ulysses.\n\nAeetes, or Aeeta, son of Helios (the Sun) and Perseis, and father\nof Medea and Absyrtus.\n\nAegeus, king of Athens.\n\nAegina, a rocky island in the middle of the Saronic gulf.\n\nAegis, shield or breastplate of Jupiter and Minerva.\n\nAegisthus, murderer of Agamemnon, slain by Orestes.\n\nAeneas, Trojan hero, son of Anchises and Aphrodite (Venus), and\nborn on Mount Ida, reputed first settler of Rome,\n\nAeneid, poem by Virgil, relating the wanderings of Aeneas from\nTroy to Italy,\n\nAe'olus, son of Hellen and the nymph Orseis, represented in Homer\nas the happy ruler of the Aeolian Islands, to whom Zeus had given\ndominion over the winds,\n\nAesculapius, god of the medical art,\n\nAeson, father of Jason, made young again by Medea,\n\nAethiopians, inhabitants of the country south of Egypt,\n\nAethra, mother of Theseus by Aegeus,\n\nAetna, volcano in Sicily,\n\nAgamedes, brother of Trophonius, distinguished as an architect,\n\nAgamemnon, son of Plisthenis and grandson of Atreus, king of\nMycenae, although the chief commander of the Greeks, is not the\nhero of the Iliad, and in chivalrous spirit altogether inferior to\nAchilles,\n\nAgave, daughter of Cadmus, wife of Echion, and mother of Pentheus,\n\nAgenor, father of Europa, Cadmus, Cilix, and Phoenix,\n\nAglaia, one of the Graces,\n\nAgni, Hindu god of fire,\n\nAgramant, a king in Africa,\n\nAgrican, fabled king of Tartary, pursuing Angelica, finally killed\nby Orlando,\n\nAgrivain, one of Arthur's knights,\n\nAhriman, the Evil Spirit in the dual system of Zoroaster, See\nOrmuzd\n\nAjax, son of Telamon, king of Salamis, and grandson of Aeacus,\nrepresented in the Iliad as second only to Achilles in bravery,\n\nAlba, the river where King Arthur fought the Romans,\n\nAlba Longa, city in Italy founded by son of Aeneas,\n\nAlberich, dwarf guardian of Rhine gold treasure of the Nibelungs\n\nAlbracca, siege of,\n\nAlcestis, wife of Admetus, offered hersell as sacrifice to spare\nher husband, but rescued by Hercules,\n\nAlcides (Hercules),\n\nAlcina, enchantress,\n\nAlcinous, Phaeacian king,\n\nAlcippe, daughter of Mars, carried off by Halirrhothrus,\n\nAlcmena, wife of Jupiter, and mother of Hercules,\n\nAlcuin, English prelate and scholar,\n\nAldrovandus, dwarf guardian of treasure,\n\nAlecto, one of the Furies,\n\nAlexander the Great, king of Macedonia, conqueror of Greece,\nEgypt, Persia, Babylonia, and India,\n\nAlfadur, a name for Odin,\n\nAlfheim, abode of the elves of light,\n\nAlice, mother of Huon and Girard, sons of Duke Sevinus,\n\nAlphenor, son of Niobe,\n\nAlpheus, river god pursuing Arethusa, who escaped by being changed\nto a fountain,\n\nAlthaea, mother of Meleager, whom she slew because he had in a\nquarrel killed her brothers, thus disgracing \"the house of\nThestius,\" her father,\n\nAmalthea, nurse of the infant Jupiter in Crete,\n\nAmata, wife of Latinus, driven mad by Alecto,\n\nAmaury of Hauteville, false hearted Knight of Charlemagne,\n\nAmazons, mythical race of warlike women,\n\nAmbrosia, celestial food used by the gods,\n\nAmmon, Egyptian god of life identified by Romans with phases of\nJupiter, the father of gods,\n\nAmphiaraus, a great prophet and hero at Argos,\n\nAmphion, a musician, son of Jupiter and Antiope (See Dirce),\n\nAmphitrite, wife of Neptune,\n\nAmphyrsos, a small river in Thessaly,\n\nAmpyx, assailant of Perseus, turned to stone by seeing Gorgon's\nhead,\n\nAmrita, nectar giving immortality,\n\nAmun, See Ammon\n\nAmymone, one of the fifty daughters of Danaus, and mother by\nPoseidon (Neptune) of Nauplius, the father of Palamedes,\n\nAnaxarete, a maiden of Cyprus, who treated her lover Iphis with\nsuch haughtiness that he hanged himself at her door,\n\nAnbessa, Saracenic governor of Spain (725 AD),\n\nAnceus, one of the Argonauts,\n\nAnchises, beloved by Aphrodite (Venus), by whom he became the\nfather of Aeneas,\n\nAndraemon, husband of Dryope, saw her changed into a tree,\n\nAndret, a cowardly knight, spy upon Tristram,\n\nAndromache, wife of Hector\n\nAndromeda, daughter of King Cephas, delivered from monster by\nPerseus\n\nAneurin, Welsh bard\n\nAngelica, Princess of Cathay\n\nAnemone, short lived wind flower, created by Venus from the blood\nof the slain Adonis\n\nAngerbode, giant prophetess, mother of Fenris, Hela and the\nMidgard Serpent\n\nAnglesey, a Northern British island, refuge of Druids fleeing from\nRomans\n\nAntaeus, giant wrestler of Libya, killed by Hercules, who, finding\nhim stronger when thrown to the earth, lifted him into the air and\nstrangled him\n\nAntea, wife of jealous Proetus\n\nAntenor, descendants of, in Italy\n\nAnteros, deity avenging unrequited love, brother of Eros (Cupid)\n\nAnthor, a Greek\n\nAntigone, daughter of Aedipus, Greek ideal of filial and sisterly\nfidelity\n\nAntilochus, son of Nestor\n\nAntiope, Amazonian queen. See Dirce\n\nAnubis, Egyptian god, conductor of the dead to judgment\n\nApennines\n\nAphrodite See Venus, Dione, etc.\n\nApis, Egyptian bull god of Memphis\n\nApollo, god of music and song\n\nApollo Belvedere, famous antique statue in Vatican at Rome\n\nApples of the Hesperides, wedding gifts to Juno, guarded by\ndaughters of Atlas and Hesperis, stolen by Atlas for Hercules,\n\nAquilo, or Boreas, the North Wind,\n\nAquitaine, ancient province of Southwestern France,\n\nArachne, a maiden skilled in weaving, changed to a spider by\nMinerva for daring to compete with her,\n\nArcadia, a country in the middle of Peloponnesus, surrounded on\nall sides by mountains,\n\nArcady, star of, the Pole star,\n\nArcas, son of Jupiter and Callisto,\n\nArcher, constellation of the,\n\nAreopagus, court of the, at Athens,\n\nAres, called Mars by the Romans, the Greek god of war, and one of\nthe great Olympian gods,\n\nArethusa, nymph of Diana, changed to a fountain,\n\nArgius king of Ireland, father of Isoude the Fair,\n\nArgo, builder of the vessel of Jason for the Argonautic\nexpedition,\n\nArgolis, city of the Nemean games,\n\nArgonauts, Jason's crew seeking the Golden Fleece,\n\nArgos, a kingdom in Greece,\n\nArgus, of the hundred eyes, guardian of Io,\n\nAriadne, daughter of King Minos, who helped Theseus slay the\nMinotaur,\n\nArimanes SEE Ahriman.\n\nArimaspians, one-eyed people of Syria,\n\nArion, famous musician, whom sailors cast into the sea to rob him,\nbut whose lyric song charmed the dolphins, one of which bore him\nsafely to land,\n\nAristaeus, the bee keeper, in love with Eurydice,\n\nArmorica, another name for Britain,\n\nArridano, a magical ruffian, slain by Orlando,\n\nArtemis SEE Diana\n\nArthgallo, brother of Elidure, British king,\n\nArthur, king in Britain about the 6th century,\n\nAruns, an Etruscan who killed Camilla,\n\nAsgard, home of the Northern gods,\n\nAshtaroth, a cruel spirit, called by enchantment to bring Rinaldo\nto death,\n\nAske, the first man, made from an ash tree,\n\nAstolpho of England, one of Charlemagne's knights,\n\nAstraea, goddess of justice, daughter of Astraeus and Eos,\n\nAstyages, an assailant of Perseus,\n\nAstyanax, son of Hector of Troy, established kingdom of Messina in\nItaly,\n\nAsuias, opponents of the Braminical gods,\n\nAtalanta, beautiful daughter of King of Icaria, loved and won in a\nfoot race by Hippomenes,\n\nAte, the goddess of infatuation, mischief and guilt,\n\nAthamas, son of Aeolus and Enarete, and king of Orchomenus, in\nBoeotia, SEE Ino\n\nAthene, tutelary goddess of Athens, the same as Minerva,\n\nAthens, the capital of Attica, about four miles from the sea,\nbetween the small rivers Cephissus and Ilissus,\n\nAthor, Egyptian deity, progenitor of Isis and Osiris,\n\nAthos, the mountainous peninsula, also called Acte, which projects\nfrom Chalcidice in Macedonia,\n\nAtlantes, foster father of Rogero, a powerful magician,\n\nAtlantis, according to an ancient tradition, a great island west\nof the Pillars of Hercules, in the ocean, opposite Mount Atlas,\n\nAtlas, a Titan, who bore the heavens on his shoulders, as\npunishment for opposing the gods, one of the sons of Iapetus,\n\nAtlas, Mount, general name for range in northern Africa,\n\nAtropos, one of the Fates\n\nAttica, a state in ancient Greece,\n\nAudhumbla, the cow from which the giant Ymir was nursed. Her milk\nwas frost melted into raindrops,\n\nAugean stables, cleansed by Hercules,\n\nAugeas, king of Elis,\n\nAugustan age, reign of Roman Emperor Augustus Caesar, famed for\nmany great authors,\n\nAugustus, the first imperial Caesar, who ruled the Roman Empire 31\nBC--14 AD,\n\nAulis, port in Boeotia, meeting place of Greek expedition against\nTroy,\n\nAurora, identical with Eos, goddess of the dawn,\n\nAurora Borealis, splendid nocturnal luminosity in northern sky,\ncalled Northern Lights, probably electrical,\n\nAutumn, attendant of Phoebus, the Sun,\n\nAvalon, land of the Blessed, an earthly paradise in the Western\nSeas, burial place of King Arthur,\n\nAvatar, name for any of the earthly incarnations of Vishnu, the\nPreserver (Hindu god),\n\nAventine, Mount, one of the Seven Hills of Rome,\n\nAvernus, a miasmatic lake close to the promontory between Cumae\nand Puteoli, filling the crater of an extinct volcano, by the\nancients thought to be the entrance to the infernal regions,\n\nAvicenna, celebrated Arabian physician and philosopher,\n\nAya, mother of Rinaldo,\n\nAymon, Duke, father of Rinaldo and Bradamante,\n\nB\n\nBaal, king of Tyre,\n\nBabylonian River, dried up when Phaeton drove the sun chariot,\n\nBacchanali a, a feast to Bacchus that was permitted to occur but\nonce in three years, attended by most shameless orgies,\n\nBacchanals, devotees and festal dancers of Bacchus,\n\nBacchus (Dionysus), god of wine and revelry,\n\nBadon, battle of, Arthur's final victory over the Saxons,\n\nBagdemagus, King, a knight of Arthur's time,\n\nBaldur, son of Odin, and representing in Norse mythology the sun\ngod,\n\nBalisardo, Orlando's sword,\n\nBan, King of Brittany, ally of Arthur, father of Launcelot,\n\nBards, minstrels of Welsh Druids,\n\nBasilisk SEE Cockatrice\n\nBaucis, wife of Philemon, visited by Jupiter and Mercury,\n\nBayard, wild horse subdued by Rinaldo,\n\nBeal, Druids' god of life,\n\nBedivere, Arthur's knight,\n\nBedver, King Arthur's butler, made governor of Normandy,\n\nBedwyr, knightly comrade of Geraint,\n\nBelisarda, Rogero's sword,\n\nBellerophon, demigod, conqueror of the Chimaera,\n\nBellona, the Roman goddess of war, represented as the sister or\nwife of Mars,\n\nBeltane, Druidical fire festival,\n\nBelus, son of Poseidon (Neptune) and Libya or Eurynome, twin\nbrother of Agenor,\n\nBendigeid Vran, King of Britain,\n\nBeowulf, hero and king of the Swedish Geats,\n\nBeroe, nurse of Semele,\n\nBertha, mother of Orlando,\n\nBifrost, rainbow bridge between the earth and Asgard\n\nBladud, inventor, builder of the city of Bath,\n\nBlamor, a knight of Arthur,\n\nBleoberis, a knight of Arthur,\n\nBoeotia, state in ancient Greece, capital city Thebes,\n\nBohort, King, a knight of Arthur,\n\nBona Dea, a Roman divinity of fertility,\n\nBootes, also called Areas, son of Jupiter and Calisto, changed to\nconstellation of Ursa Major,\n\nBoreas, North wind, son of Aeolus and Aurora,\n\nBosporus (Bosphorus), the Cow-ford, named for Io, when as a heifer\nshe crossed that strait,\n\nBradamante, sister to Rinaldo, a female warrior,\n\nBrademagus, King, father of Sir Maleagans,\n\nBragi, Norse god of poetry,\n\nBrahma, the Creator, chief god of Hindu religion,\n\nBranwen, daughter of Llyr, King of Britain, wife of Mathclch,\n\nBreciliande, forest of, where Vivian enticed Merlin,\n\nBrengwain, maid of Isoude the Fair\n\nBrennus, son of Molmutius, went to Gaul, became King of the\nAllobroges,\n\nBreuse, the Pitiless, a caitiff knight,\n\nBriareus, hundred armed giant,\n\nBrice, Bishop, sustainer of Arthur when elected king,\n\nBrigliadoro, Orlando's horse,\n\nBriseis, captive maid belonging to Achilles,\n\nBritto, reputed ancestor of British people,\n\nBruhier, Sultan of Arabia,\n\nBrunello, dwarf, thief, and king\n\nBrunhild, leader of the Valkyrie,\n\nBrutus, great grandson of Aeneas, and founder of city of New Troy\n(London), SEE Pandrasus\n\nBryan, Sir, a knight of Arthur,\n\nBuddha, called The Enlightened, reformer of Brahmanism, deified\nteacher of self abnegation, virtue, reincarnation, Karma\n(inevitable sequence of every act), and Nirvana (beatific\nabsorption into the Divine), lived about\n\nByblos, in Egypt,\n\nByrsa, original site of Carthage,\n\nC\n\nCacus, gigantic son of Vulcan, slain by Hercules, whose captured\ncattle he stole,\n\nCadmus, son of Agenor, king of Phoenicia, and of Telephassa, and\nbrother of Europa, who, seeking his sister, carried off by\nJupiter, had strange adventures--sowing in the ground teeth of a\ndragon he had killed, which sprang up armed men who slew each\nother, all but five, who helped Cadmus to found the city of\nThebes,\n\nCaduceus, Mercury's staff,\n\nCadwallo, King of Venedotia (North Wales),\n\nCaerleon, traditional seat of Arthur's court,\n\nCaesar, Julius, Roman lawyer, general, statesman and author,\nconquered and consolidated Roman territory, making possible the\nEmpire,\n\nCaicus, a Greek river,\n\nCairns, Druidical store piles,\n\nCalais, French town facing England,\n\nCalchas, wisest soothsayer among the Greeks at Troy,\n\nCaliburn, a sword of Arthur,\n\nCalliope, one of the nine Muses\n\nCallisto, an Arcadian nymph, mother of Arcas (SEE Bootes), changed\nby Jupiter to constellation Ursa Minor,\n\nCalpe, a mountain in the south of Spain, on the strait between the\nAtlantic and Mediterranean, now Rock of Gibraltar,\n\nCalydon, home of Meleager,\n\nCalypso, queen of Island of Ogyia, where Ulysses was wrecked and\nheld seven years,\n\nCamber, son of Brutus, governor of West Albion (Wales),\n\nCamelot, legendary place in England where Arthur's court and\npalace were located,\n\nCamenae, prophetic nymphs, belonging to the religion of ancient\nItaly,\n\nCamilla, Volscian maiden, huntress and Amazonian warrior, favorite\nof Diana,\n\nCamlan, battle of, where Arthur was mortally wounded,\n\nCanterbury, English city,\n\nCapaneus, husband of Evadne, slain by Jupiter for disobedience,\n\nCapet, Hugh, King of France (987-996 AD),\n\nCaradoc Briefbras, Sir, great nephew of King Arthur,\n\nCarahue, King of Mauretania,\n\nCarthage, African city, home of Dido\n\nCassandra, daughter of Priam and Hecuba, and twin sister of\nHelenus, a prophetess, who foretold the coming of the Greeks but\nwas not believed,\n\nCassibellaunus, British chieftain, fought but not conquered by\nCaesar,\n\nCassiopeia, mother of Andromeda,\n\nCastalia, fountain of Parnassus, giving inspiration to Oracular\npriestess named Pythia,\n\nCastalian Cave, oracle of Apollo,\n\nCastes (India),\n\nCastor and Pollux--the Dioscuri, sons of Jupiter and Leda,--\nCastor a horseman, Pollux a boxer (SEE Gemini),\n\nCaucasus, Mount\n\nCavall, Arthur's favorite dog,\n\nCayster, ancient river,\n\nCebriones, Hector's charioteer,\n\nCecrops, first king of Athens,\n\nCelestials, gods of classic mythology,\n\nCeleus, shepherd who sheltered Ceres, seeking Proserpine, and\nwhose infant son Triptolemus was in gratitude made great by Ceres,\n\nCellini, Benvenuto, famous Italian sculptor and artificer in\nmetals,\n\nCeltic nations, ancient Gauls and Britons, modern Bretons, Welsh,\nIrish and Gaelic Scotch,\n\nCentaurs, originally an ancient race, inhabiting Mount Pelion in\nThessaly, in later accounts represented as half horses and half\nmen, and said to have been the offspring of Ixion and a cloud,\n\nCephalus, husband of beautiful but jealous Procris,\n\nCephe us, King of Ethiopians, father of Andromeda,\n\nCephisus, a Grecian stream,\n\nCerberus, three-headed dog that guarded the entrance to Hades,\ncalled a son of Typhaon and Echidna\n\nCERES (See Demeter)\n\nCESTUS, the girdle of Venus\n\nCEYX, King of Thessaly (See Halcyone)\n\nCHAOS, original Confusion, personified by Greeks as most ancient\nof the gods\n\nCHARLEMAGNE, king of the Franks and emperor of the Romans\n\nCHARLES MARTEL', king of the Franks, grandfather of Charlemagne,\ncalled Martel (the Hammer) from his defeat of the Saracens at\nTours\n\nCHARLOT, son of Charlemagne\n\nCHARON, son of Erebos, conveyed in his boat the shades of the dead\nacross the rivers of the lower world\n\nCHARYB'DIS, whirlpool near the coast of Sicily, See Scylla\n\nCHIMAERA, a fire breathing monster, the fore part of whose body\nwas that of a lion, the hind part that of a dragon, and the middle\nthat of a goat, slain by Bellerophon\n\nCHINA, Lamas (priests) of\n\nCHOS, island in the Grecian archipelago\n\nCHIRON, wisest of all the Centaurs, son of Cronos (Saturn) and\nPhilyra, lived on Mount Pelion, instructor of Grecian heroes\n\nCHRYSEIS, Trojan maid, taken by Agamemnon\n\nCHRYSES, priest of Apollo, father of Chryseis\n\nCICONIANS, inhabitants of Ismarus, visited by Ulysses\n\nCIMBRI, an ancient people of Central Europe\n\nCimmeria, a land of darkness\n\nCimon, Athenian general\n\nCirce, sorceress, sister of Aeetes\n\nCithaeron, Mount, scene of Bacchic worship\n\nClarimunda, wife of Huon\n\nClio, one of the Muses\n\nCloridan, a Moor\n\nClotho, one of the Fates\n\nClymene, an ocean nymph\n\nClytemnestra, wife of Agamemnon, killed by Orestes\n\nClytie, a water nymph, in love with Apollo\n\nCnidos, ancient city of Asia Minor, seat of worship of Aphrodite\n(Venus)\n\nCockatrice (or Basilisk), called King of Serpents, supposed to\nkill with its look\n\nCocytus, a river of Hades\n\nColchis, a kingdom east of the Black Sea\n\nColophon, one of the seven cities claiming the birth of Homer\n\nColumba, St, an Irish Christian missionary to Druidical parts of\nScotland\n\nConan, Welsh king\n\nConstantine, Greek emperor\n\nCordeilla, daughter of the mythical King Leir\n\nCorineus, a Trojan warrior in Albion\n\nCornwall, southwest part of Britain\n\nCortana, Ogier's sword\n\nCorybantes, priests of Cybele, or Rhea, in Phrygia, who\ncelebrated her worship with dances, to the sound of the drum and\nthe cymbal, 143\n\nCrab, constellation\n\nCranes and their enemies, the Pygmies, of Ibycus\n\nCreon, king of Thebes\n\nCrete, one of the largest islands of the Mediterranean Sea, lying\nsouth of the Cyclades\n\nCreusa, daughter of Priam, wife of Aeneas\n\nCrocale, a nymph of Diana\n\nCromlech, Druidical altar\n\nCronos, See Saturn\n\nCrotona, city of Italy\n\nCuchulain, Irish hero, called the \"Hound of Ireland,\"\n\nCuldees', followers of St. Columba, Cumaean Sibyl, seeress\nof Cumae, consulted by Aeneas, sold Sibylline books to Tarquin\n\nCupid, child of Venus and god of love\n\nCuroi of Kerry, wise man\n\nCyane, river, opposed Pluto's passage to Hades\n\nCybele (Rhea)\n\nCyclopes, creatures with circular eyes, of whom Homer speaks as a\ngigantic and lawless race of shepherds in Sicily, who devoured\nhuman beings, they helped Vulcan to forge the thunderbolts of Zeus\nunder Aetna\n\nCymbeline, king of ancient Britain\n\nCynosure (Dog's tail), the Pole star, at tail of Constellation\nUrsa Minor\n\nCynthian mountain top, birthplace of Artemis (Diana) and Apollo\n\nCyprus, island off the coast of Syria, sacred to Aphrodite\n\nCyrene, a nymph, mother of Aristaeus\n\nDaedalus, architect of the Cretan Labyrinth, inventor of sails\n\nDaguenet, King Arthur's fool\n\nDalai Lama, chief pontiff of Thibet\n\nDanae, mother of Perseus by Jupiter\n\nDanaides, the fifty daughters of Danaus, king of Argos, who were\nbetrothed to the fifty sons of Aegyptus, but were commanded by\ntheir father to slay each her own husband on the marriage night\n\nDanaus (See Danaides)\n\nDaphne, maiden loved by Apollo, and changed into a laurel tree\n\nDardanelles, ancient Hellespont\n\nDardanus, progenitor of the Trojan kings\n\nDardinel, prince of Zumara\n\nDawn, See Aurora\n\nDay, an attendant on Phoebus, the Sun\n\nDay star (Hesperus)\n\nDeath, See Hela\n\nDeiphobus, son of Priam and Hecuba, the bravest brother of Paris\n\nDejanira, wife of Hercules\n\nDelos, floating island, birthplace of Apollo and Diana\n\nDelphi, shrine of Apollo, famed for its oracles\n\nDemeter, Greek goddess of marriage and human fertility, identified\nby Romans with Ceres\n\nDemeha, South Wales\n\nDemodocus, bard of Alomous, king of the Phaeaeians\n\nDeucalion, king of Thessaly, who with his wife Pyrrha were the\nonly pair surviving a deluge sent by Zeus\n\nDia, island of\n\nDiana (Artemis), goddess of the moon and of the chase, daughter of\nJupiter and Latona\n\nDiana of the Hind, antique sculpture in the Louvre, Paris\n\nDiana, temple of\n\nDictys, a sailor\n\nDidier, king of the Lombards\n\nDido, queen of Tyre and Carthage, entertained the shipwrecked\nAeneas\n\nDiomede, Greek hero during Trojan War\n\nDione, female Titan, mother of Zeus, of Aphrodite (Venus)\n\nDionysus See Bacchus\n\nDioscuri, the Twins (See Castor and Pollux)\n\nDirce, wife of Lycus, king of Thebes, who ordered Amphion and\nZethus to tie Antiope to a wild bull, but they, learning Antiope\nto be their mother, so treated Dirce herself\n\nDis See Pluto\n\nDiscord, apple of, See Eris.\n\nDiscordia, See Eris.\n\nDodona, site of an oracle of Zeus (Jupiter)\n\nDorceus, a dog of Diana\n\nDoris, wife of Nereus\n\nDragon's teeth sown by Cadmus\n\nDruids, ancient Celtic priests\n\nDryades (or Dryads), See Wood nymphs\n\nDryope, changed to a lotus plant, for plucking a lotus--enchanted\nform of the nymph Lotis\n\nDubricius, bishop of Caerleon,\n\nDudon, a knight, comrade of Astolpho,\n\nDunwallo Molmu'tius, British king and lawgiver\n\nDurindana, sword of Orlando or Rinaldo\n\nDwarfs in Wagner's Nibelungen Ring\n\nE\n\nEarth (Gaea); goddess of the\n\nEbudians, the\n\nEcho, nymph of Diana, shunned by Narcissus, faded to nothing but a\nvoice\n\nEcklenlied, the\n\nEddas, Norse mythological records,\n\nEderyn, son of Nudd\n\nEgena, nymph of the Fountain\n\nEisteddfod, session of Welsh bards and minstrels\n\nElectra, the lost one of the Pleiades, also, sister of Orestes\n\nEleusian Mysteries, instituted by Ceres, and calculated to awaken\nfeelings of piety and a cheerful hope of better life in the future\n\nEleusis, Grecian city\n\nElgin Marbles, Greek sculptures from the Parthenon of Athens, now\nin British Museum, London, placed there by Lord Elgin\n\nEliaures, enchanter\n\nElidure, a king of Britain\n\nElis, ancient Greek city\n\nElli, old age; the one successful wrestler against Thor\n\nElphin, son of Gwyddiro\n\nElves, spiritual beings, of many powers and dispositions--some\nevil, some good\n\nElvidnir, the ball of Hela\n\nElysian Fields, the land of the blest\n\nElysian Plain, whither the favored of the gods were taken without\ndeath\n\nElysium, a happy land, where there is neither snow, nor cold, nor\nram. Hither favored heroes, like Menelaus, pass without dying, and\nlive happy under the rule of Rhadamanthus. In the Latin poets\nElysium is part of the lower world, and the residence of the\nshades of the blessed\n\nEmbla, the first woman\n\nEnseladus, giant defeated by Jupiter\n\nEndymion, a beautiful youth beloved by Diana\n\nEnid, wife of Geraint\n\nEnna, vale of home of Proserpine\n\nEnoch, the patriarch\n\nEpidaurus, a town in Argolis, on the Saronic gulf, chief seat of\nthe worship of Aeculapius, whose temple was situated near the town\n\nEpimetheus, son of Iapetus, husband of Pandora, with his brother\nPrometheus took part in creation of man\n\nEpirus, country to the west of Thessaly, lying along the Adriatic\nSea\n\nEpopeus, a sailor\n\nErato, one of the Muses\n\nErbin of Cornwall, father of Geraint\n\nErebus, son of Chaos, region of darkness, entrance to Hades\n\nEridanus, river\n\nErinys, one of the Furies\n\nEriphyle, sister of Polynices, bribed to decide on war, in which\nher husband was slain\n\nEris (Discordia), goddess of discord. At the wedding of Peleus and\nThetis, Eris being uninvited threw into the gathering an apple\n\"For the Fairest,\" which was claimed by Hera (Juno), Aphrodite\n(Venus) and Athena (Minerva) Paris, being called upon for\njudgment, awarded it to Aphrodite\n\nErisichthon, an unbeliever, punished by famine\n\nEros See Cupid\n\nErytheia, island\n\nEryx, a mount, haunt of Venus\n\nEsepus, river in Paphlagonia\n\nEstrildis, wife of Locrine, supplanting divorced Guendolen\n\nEteocles, son of Oeipus and Jocasta\n\nEtruscans, ancient people of Italy,\n\nEtzel, king of the Huns\n\nEuboic Sea, where Hercules threw Lichas, who brought him the\npoisoned shirt of Nessus\n\nEude, king of Aquitaine, ally of Charles Martel\n\nEumaeus, swineherd of Aeeas\n\nEumenides, also called Erinnyes, and by the Romans Furiae or\nDiraae, the Avenging Deities, See Furies\n\nEuphorbus, a Trojan, killed by Menelaus\n\nEuphros'yne, one of the Graces\n\nEuropa, daughter of the Phoenician king Agenor, by Zeus the mother\nof Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Sarpedon\n\nEurus, the East wind\n\nEuyalus, a gallant Trojan soldier, who with Nisus entered the\nGrecian camp, both being slain,\n\nEurydice, wife of Orpheus, who, fleeing from an admirer, was\nkilled by a snake and borne to Tartarus, where Orpheus sought her\nand was permitted to bring her to earth if he would not look back\nat her following him, but he did, and she returned to the Shades,\n\nEurylochus, a companion of Ulysses,\n\nEurynome, female Titan, wife of Ophlon\n\nEurystheus, taskmaster of Hercules,\n\nEurytion, a Centaur (See Hippodamia),\n\nEuterpe, Muse who presided over music,\n\nEvadne, wife of Capaneus, who flung herself upon his funeral pile\nand perished with him\n\nEvander, Arcadian chief, befriending Aeneas in Italy,\n\nEvnissyen, quarrelsome brother of Branwen,\n\nExcalibar, sword of King Arthur,\n\nF\n\nFafner, a giant turned dragon, treasure stealer, by the Solar\nTheory simply the Darkness who steals the day,\n\nFalerina, an enchantress,\n\nFasolt, a giant, brother of Fafner, and killed by him,\n\n\"Fasti,\" Ovid's, a mythological poetic calendar,\n\nFATA MORGANA, a mirage\n\nFATES, the three, described as daughters of Night--to indicate the\ndarkness and obscurity of human destiny--or of Zeus and Themis,\nthat is, \"daughters of the just heavens\" they were Clo'tho, who\nspun the thread of life, Lach'esis, who held the thread and fixed\nits length and At'ropos, who cut it off\n\nFAUNS, cheerful sylvan deities, represented in human form, with\nsmall horns, pointed ears, and sometimes goat's tail\n\nFAUNUS, son of Picus, grandson of Saturnus, and father of Latinus,\nworshipped as the protecting deity of agriculture and of\nshepherds, and also as a giver of oracles\n\nFAVONIUS, the West wind\n\nFEAR\n\nFENRIS, a wolf, the son of Loki the Evil Principle of Scandinavia,\nsupposed to have personated the element of fire, destructive\nexcept when chained\n\nFENSALIR, Freya's palace, called the Hall of the Sea, where were\nbrought together lovers, husbands, and wives who had been\nseparated by death\n\nFERRAGUS, a giant, opponent of Orlando\n\nFERRAU, one of Charlemagne's knights\n\nFERREX. brother of Porrex, the two sons of Leir\n\nFIRE WORSHIPPERS, of ancient Persia, See Parsees FLOLLO, Roman\ntribune in Gaul\n\nFLORA, Roman goddess of flowers and spring\n\nFLORDELIS, fair maiden beloved by Florismart\n\nFLORISMART, Sir, a brave knight,\n\nFLOSSHILDA, one of the Rhine daughters\n\nFORTUNATE FIELDS\n\nFORTUNATE ISLANDS (See Elysian Plain)\n\nFORUM, market place and open square for public meetings in Rome,\nsurrounded by court houses, palaces, temples, etc\n\nFRANCUS, son of Histion, grandson of Japhet, great grandson of\nNoah, legendary ancestor of the Franks, or French\n\nFREKI, one of Odin's two wolves\n\nFREY, or Freyr, god of the sun\n\nFREYA, Norse goddess of music, spring, and flowers\n\nFRICKA, goddess of marriage\n\nFRIGGA, goddess who presided over smiling nature, sending\nsunshine, rain, and harvest\n\nFROH, one of the Norse gods\n\nFRONTI'NO, Rogero's horse\n\nFURIES (Erinnyes), the three retributive spirits who punished\ncrime, represented as snaky haired old woman, named Alecto,\nMegaeira, and Tisiphone\n\nFUSBERTA, Rinaldo's sword\n\nG\n\nGAEA, or Ge, called Tellus by the Romans, the personification of\nthe earth, described as the first being that sprang fiom Chaos,\nand gave birth to Uranus (Heaven) and Pontus (Sea)\n\nGAHARIET, knight of Arthur's court\n\nGAHERIS, knight\n\nGALAFRON, King of Cathay, father of Angelica\n\nGALAHAD, Sir, the pure knight of Arthur's Round Table, who safely\ntook the Siege Perilous (which See)\n\nGALATEA, a Nereid or sea nymph\n\nGALATEA, statue carved and beloved by Pygmalion\n\nGALEN, Greek physician and philosophical writer\n\nGALLEHANT, King of the Marches\n\nGAMES, national athletic contests in Greece--Olympian, at Olympia,\nPythian, near Delphi, seat of Apollo's oracle, Isthmian, on the\nCorinthian Isthmus, Nemean, at Nemea in Argolis\n\nGAN, treacherous Duke of Maganza\n\nGANELON of Mayence, one of Charlemagne's knights\n\nGANGES, river in India\n\nGANO, a peer of Charlemagne\n\nGANYMEDE, the most beautiful of all mortals, carried off to\nOlympus that he might fill the cup of Zeus and live among the\nimmortal gods\n\nGARETH, Arthur's knight\n\nGAUDISSO, Sultan\n\nGAUL, ancient France\n\nGAUTAMA, Prince, the Buddha\n\nGAWAIN, Arthur's knight\n\nGAWL, son of Clud, suitor for Rhiannon\n\nGEMINI (See Castor), constellation created by Jupiter from the\ntwin brothers after death, 158\n\nGENGHIS Khan, Tartar conqueror\n\nGENIUS, in Roman belief, the protective Spirit of each individual\nman, See Juno\n\nGEOFFREY OF MON'MOUTH, translator into Latin of the Welsh History\nof the Kings of Britain (1150)\n\nGERAINT, a knight of King Arthur\n\nGERDA, wife of Frey\n\nGERI, one of Odin's two wolves\n\nGERYON, a three bodied monster\n\nGESNES, navigator sent for Isoude the Fair\n\nGIALLAR HORN, the trumpet that Heimdal will blow at the judgment\nday\n\nGIANTS, beings of monstrous size and of fearful countenances,\nrepresented as in constant opposition to the gods, in Wagner's\nNibelungen Ring\n\nGIBICHUNG RACE, ancestors of Alberich\n\nGIBRALTAR, great rock and town at southwest corner of Spain (See\nPillars of Hercules)\n\nGILDAS, a scholar of Arthur's court\n\nGIRARD, son of Duke Sevinus\n\nGLASTONBURY, where Arthur died\n\nGLAUCUS, a fisherman, loving Scylla\n\nGLEIPNIR, magical chain on the wolf Fenris\n\nGLEWLWYD, Arthur's porter\n\nGOLDEN FLEECE, of ram used for escape of children of Athamas,\nnamed Helle and Phryxus (which See), after sacrifice of ram to\nJupiter, fleece was guarded by sleepless dragon and gained by\nJason and Argonauts (which See, also Helle)\n\nGONERIL, daughter of Leir\n\nGORDIAN KNOT, tying up in temple the wagon of Gordius, he who\ncould untie it being destined to be lord of Asia, it was cut by\nAlexander the Great, 48\n\nGordius, a countryman who, arriving in Phrygia in a wagon, was\nmade king by the people, thus interpreting an oracle, 48\n\nGorgons, three monstrous females, with huge teeth, brazen claws\nand snakes for hair, sight of whom turned beholders to stone,\nMedusa, the most famous, slain by Perseus\n\nGorlois, Duke of Tintadel\n\nGouvernail, squire of Isabella, queen of Lionesse, protector of\nher son Tristram while young, and his squire in knighthood\n\nGraal, the Holy, cup from which the Saviour drank at Last Supper,\ntaken by Joseph of Arimathea to Europe, and lost, its recovery\nbecoming a sacred quest for Arthur's knights\n\nGraces, three goddesses who enhanced the enjoyments of life by\nrefinement and gentleness; they were Aglaia (brilliance),\nEuphrosyne (joy), and Thalia (bloom)\n\nGradas'so, king of Sericane\n\nGraeae, three gray haired female watchers for the Gorgons, with\none movable eye and one tooth between the three\n\nGrand Lama, Buddhist pontiff in Thibet\n\nGrendel, monster slain by Beowulf\n\nGryphon (griffin), a fabulous animal, with the body of a lion and\nthe head and wings of an eagle, dwelling in the Rhipaean\nmountains, between the Hyperboreans and the one eyed Arimaspians,\nand guarding the gold of the North,\n\nGuebers, Persian fire worshippers,\n\nGuendolen, wife of Locrine,\n\nGuenevere, wife of King Arthur, beloved by Launcelot,\n\nGuerin, lord of Vienne, father of Oliver,\n\nGuiderius, son of Cymbeline,\n\nGuillamurius, king in Ireland,\n\nGuimier, betrothed of Caradoc,\n\nGullinbursti, the boar drawing Frey's car,\n\nGulltopp, Heimdell's horse,\n\nGunfasius, King of the Orkneys,\n\nGanther, Burgundian king, brother of Kriemhild,\n\nGutrune, half sister to Hagen,\n\nGwern son of Matholch and Branwen,\n\nGwernach the Giant,\n\nGwiffert Petit, ally of Geraint,\n\nGwyddno, Garanhir, King of Gwaelod,\n\nGwyr, judge in the court of Arthur,\n\nGyoll, river,\n\nH\n\nHades, originally the god of the nether world--the name later\nused to designate the gloomy subterranean land of the dead,\n\nHaemon, son of Creon of Thebes, and lover of Antigone,\n\nHaemonian city,\n\nHaemus, Mount, northern boundary of Thrace,\n\nHagan, a principal character in the Nibelungen Lied, slayer of\nSiegfried,\n\nHALCYONE, daughter of Aeneas, and the beloved wife of Ceyx, who,\nwhen he was drowned, flew to his floating body, and the pitying\ngods changed them both to birds (kingfishers), who nest at sea\nduring a certain calm week in winter (\"halcyon weather\")\n\nHAMADRYADS, tree-nymphs or wood-nymphs, See Nymphs\n\nHARMONIA, daughter of Mars and Venus, wife of Cadmus\n\nHAROUN AL RASCHID, Caliph of Arabia, contemporary of Charlemagne\n\nHARPIES, monsters, with head and bust of woman, but wings, legs\nand tail of birds, seizing souls of the wicked, or punishing\nevildoers by greedily snatching or defiling their food\n\nHARPOCRATES, Egyptian god, Horus\n\nHEBE, daughter of Juno, cupbearer to the gods\n\nHEBRUS, ancient name of river Maritzka\n\nHECATE, a mighty and formidable divinity, supposed to send at\nnight all kinds of demons and terrible phantoms from the lower\nworld\n\nHECTOR, son of Priam and champion of Troy\n\nHECTOR, one of Arthur's knights\n\nHECTOR DE MARYS', a knight\n\nHECUBA, wife of Priam, king of Troy, to whom she bore Hector,\nParis, and many other children\n\nHEGIRA, flight of Mahomet from Mecca to Medina (622 AD), era from\nwhich Mahometans reckon time, as we do from the birth of Christ\n\nHEIDRUN, she goat, furnishing mead for slain heroes in Valhalla\n\nHEIMDALL, watchman of the gods\n\nHEL, the lower world of Scandinavia, to which were consigned those\nwho had not died in battle\n\nHELA (Death), the daughter of Loki and the mistress of the\nScandinavian Hel\n\nHELEN, daughter of Jupiter and Leda, wife of Menelaus, carried\noff by Paris and cause of the Trojan War\n\nHELENUS, son of Priam and Hecuba, celebrated for his prophetic\npowers\n\nHELIADES, sisters of Phaeton\n\nHELICON, Mount, in Greece, residence of Apollo and the Muses,\nwith fountains of poetic inspiration, Aganippe and Hippocrene\n\nHELIOOPOLIS, city of the Sun, in Egypt\n\nHELLAS, Gieece\n\nHELLE, daughter of Thessalian King Athamas, who, escaping from\ncruel father with her brother Phryxus, on ram with golden fleece,\nfell into the sea strait since named for her (See Golden Fleece)\n\nHELLESPONt, narrow strait between Europe and Asia Minor, named for\nHelle\n\nHENGIST, Saxon invader of Britain, 449 AD\n\nHEPHAESTOS, See VULCAN\n\nHERA, called Juno by the Romans, a daughter of Cronos (Saturn)\nand Rhea, and sister and wife of Jupiter, See JUNO\n\nHERCULES, athletic hero, son of Jupiter and Alcmena, achieved\ntwelve vast labors and many famous deeds\n\nHEREWARD THE WAKE, hero of the Saxons\n\nHERMES (Mercury), messenger of the gods, deity of commerce,\nscience, eloquence, trickery, theft, and skill generally\n\nHERMIONE, daughter of Menelaus and Helen\n\nHERMOD, the nimble, son of Odin\n\nHERO, a priestess of Venus, beloved of Leander\n\nHERODOTUS, Greek historian\n\nHESIOD, Greek poet\n\nHESPERIA, ancient name for Italy\n\nHESPERIDES (See Apples of the Hesperides)\n\nHESPERUS, the evening star (also called Day Star)\n\nHESTIA, cilled Vesta by the Romans, the goddess of the hearth\n\nHILDEBRAND, German magician and champion\n\nHINDU TRIAD, Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva\n\nHIPPOCRENE (See Helicon)\n\nHIPPODAMIA, wife of Pirithous, at whose wedding the Centaurs\noffered violence to the bride, causing a great battle\n\nHIPPOGRIFF, winged horse, with eagle's head and claws\n\nHIPPOLYTA, Queen of the Amazons\n\nHippolytus, son of Thesus\n\nHIPPOMENES, who won Atalanta in foot race, beguiling her with\ngolden apples thrown for her to\n\nHISTION, son of Japhet\n\nHODUR, blind man, who, fooled by\n\nLoki, threw a mistletoe twig at Baldur, killing him\n\nHOEL, king of Brittany\n\nHOMER, the blind poet of Greece, about 850 B C\n\nHOPE (See PANDORA)\n\nHORAE See HOURS\n\nHORSA, with Hengist, invader of Britain\n\nHORUS, Egyptian god of the sun\n\nHOUDAIN, Tristram's dog\n\nHRINGHAM, Baldur's ship\n\nHROTHGAR, king of Denmark\n\nHUGI, who beat Thialfi in foot races\n\nHUGIN, one of Odin's two ravens\n\nHUNDING, husband of Sieglinda\n\nHUON, son of Duke Sevinus\n\nHYACINTHUS, a youth beloved by Apollo, and accidentally killed by\nhim, changed in death to the flower, hyacinth\n\nHYADES, Nysaean nymphs, nurses of infant Bacchus, rewarded by\nbeing placed as cluster of stars in the heavens\n\nHYALE, a nymph of Diana\n\nHYDRA, nine headed monster slain by Hercules\n\nHYGEIA, goddess of health, daughter of Aesculapius\n\nHYLAS, a youth detained by nymphs of spring where he sought water\n\nHYMEN, the god of marriage, imagined as a handsome youth and\ninvoked in bridal songs\n\nHYMETTUS, mountain in Attica, near Athens, celebrated for its\nmarble and its honey\n\nHYPERBOREANS, people of the far North\n\nHYPERION, a Titan, son of Uranus and Ge, and father of Helios,\nSelene, and Eos, cattle of,\n\nHyrcania, Prince of, betrothed to Clarimunda\n\nHyrieus, king in Greece,\n\nI\n\nIapetus, a Titan, son of Uranus and Ge, and father of Atlas,\nPrometheus, Epimetheus, and Menoetius,\n\nIasius, father of Atalanta\n\nIbycus, a poet, story of, and the cranes\n\nIcaria, island of the Aegean Sea, one of the Sporades\n\nIcarius, Spartan prince, father of Penelope\n\nIcarus, son of Daedalus, he flew too near the sun with artificial\nwings, and, the wax melting, he fell into the sea\n\nIcelos, attendant of Morpheus\n\nIcolumkill SEE Iona\n\nIda, Mount, a Trojan hill\n\nIdaeus, a Trojan herald\n\nIdas, son of Aphareus and Arene, and brother of Lynceus Idu'na,\nwife of Bragi\n\nIgerne, wife of Gorlois, and mother, by Uther, of Arthur\n\nIliad, epic poem of the Trojan War, by Homer\n\nIlioheus, a son of Niobe\n\nIlium SEE Troy\n\nIllyria, Adriatic countries north of Greece\n\nImogen, daughter of Pandrasus, wife of Trojan Brutus\n\nInachus, son of Oceanus and Tethys, and father of Phoroneus and\nIo, also first king of Argos, and said to have given his name to\nthe river Inachus\n\nINCUBUS, an evil spirit, supposed to lie upon persons in their\nsleep\n\nINDRA, Hindu god of heaven, thunder, lightning, storm and rain\n\nINO, wife of Athamas, fleeing from whom with infant son she sprang\ninto the sea and was changed to Leucothea\n\nIO, changed to a heifer by Jupiter\n\nIOBATES, King of Lycia\n\nIOLAUS, servant of Hercules\n\nIOLE, sister of Dryope\n\nIONA, or Icolmkill, a small northern island near Scotland, where\nSt Columba founded a missionary monastery (563 AD)\n\nIONIA, coast of Asia Minor\n\nIPHIGENIA, daughter of Agamemnon, offered as a sacrifice but\ncarried away by Diana\n\nIPHIS, died for love of Anaxarete, 78\n\nIPHITAS, friend of Hercules, killed by him\n\nIRIS, goddess of the rainbow, messenger of Juno and Zeus\n\nIRONSIDE, Arthur's knight\n\nISABELLA, daughter of king of Galicia\n\nISIS, wife of Osiris, described as the giver of death\n\nISLES OF THE BLESSED\n\nISMARUS, first stop of Ulysses, returning from Trojan War\nISME'NOS, a son of Niobe, slain by Apollo\n\nISOLIER, friend of Rinaldo\n\nISOUDE THE FAIR, beloved of Tristram\n\nISOUDE OF THE WHITE HANDS, married to Tristram\n\nISTHMIAN GAMES, See GAMES\n\nITHACA, home of Ulysses and Penelope\n\nIULUS, son of Aeneas\n\nIVO, Saracen king, befriending Rinaldo\n\nIXION, once a sovereign of Thessaly, sentenced in Tartarus to be\nlashed with serpents to a wheel which a strong wind drove\ncontinually around\n\nJ\n\nJANICULUM, Roman fortress on the Janiculus, a hill on the other\nside of the Tiber\n\nJANUS, a deity from the earliest times held in high estimation by\nthe Romans, temple of\n\nJAPHET (Iapetus)\n\nJASON, leader of the Argonauts, seeking the Golden Fleece\n\nJOSEPH OF ARIMATHEA, who bore the Holy Graal to Europe\n\nJOTUNHEIM, home of the giants in Northern mythology\n\nJOVE (Zeus), chief god of Roman and Grecian mythology, See JUPITER\n\nJOYOUS GARDE, residence of Sir Launcelot of the Lake\n\nJUGGERNAUT, Hindu deity\n\nJUNO, the particular guardian spirit of each woman (See Genius)\n\nJUNO, wife of Jupiter, queen of the gods\n\nJUPITER, JOVIS PATER, FATHER JOVE, JUPITER and JOVE used\ninterchangeably, at Dodona, statue of the Olympian\n\nJUPITER AMMON (See Ammon)\n\nJUPITER CAPITOLINUS, temple of, preserving the Sibylline books\n\nJUSTICE, See THEMIS\n\nK\n\nKADYRIATH, advises King Arthur\n\nKAI, son of Kyner\n\nKALKI, tenth avatar of Vishnu\n\nKAY, Arthur's steward and a knight\n\nKEDALION, guide of Orion\n\nKERMAN, desert of\n\nKICVA, daughter of Gwynn Gloy\n\nKILWICH, son of Kilydd\n\nKILYDD, son of Prince Kelyddon, of Wales\n\nKNEPH, spirit or breath\n\nKNIGHTS, training and life of\n\nKRIEMHILD, wife of Siegfried\n\nKRISHNA, eighth avatar of Vishnu, Hindu deity of fertility in\nnature and mankind\n\nKYNER, father of Kav\n\nKYNON, son of Clydno\n\nL\n\nLABYRINTH, the enclosed maze of passageways where roamed the\nMinotaur of Crete, killed by Theseus with aid of Ariadne\n\nLACHESIS, one of the Fates (which See)\n\nLADY OF THE FOUNTAIN, tale told by Kynon\n\nLAERTES, father of Ulysses\n\nLAESTRYGONIANS, savages attacking Ulysses\n\nLAIUS, King of Thebes\n\nLAMA, holy man of Thibet\n\nLAMPETIA, daughter of Hyperion LAOC'OON, a priest of Neptune, in\nTroy, who warned the Trojans against the Wooden Horse (which See),\nbut when two serpents came out of the sea and strangled him and\nhis two sons, the people listened to the Greek spy Sinon, and\nbrought the fatal Horse into the town\n\nLAODAMIA, daughter of Acastus and wife of Protesilaus\n\nLAODEGAN, King of Carmalide, helped by Arthur and Merlin\n\nLAOMEDON, King of Troy\n\nLAPITHAE, Thessalonians, whose king had invited the Centaurs to\nhis daughter's wedding but who attacked them for offering violence\nto the bride\n\nLARES, household deities\n\nLARKSPUR, flower from the blood of Ajax\n\nLATINUS, ruler of Latium, where Aeneas landed in Italy\n\nLATMOS, Mount, where Diana fell in love with Endymion\n\nLATONA, mother of Apollo\n\nLAUNCELOT, the most famous knight of the Round Table\n\nLAUSUS, son of Mezentius, killed by Aeneas\n\nLAVINIA, daughter of Latinus and wife of Aeneas\n\nLAVINIUM, Italian city named for Lavinia\n\nLAW, See THEMIS\n\nLEANDER, a youth of Abydos, who, swimming the Hellespont to see\nHero, his love, was drowned\n\nLEBADEA, site of the oracle of Trophomus\n\nLEBYNTHOS, Aegean island\n\nLEDA, Queen of Sparta, wooed by Jupiter in the form of a swan\n\nLEIR, mythical King of Britain, original of Shakespeare's Lear\n\nLELAPS, dog of Cephalus\n\nLEMNOS, large island in the Aegean Sea, sacred to Vulcan\n\nLEMURES, the spectres or spirits of the dead\n\nLEO, Roman emperor, Greek prince\n\nLETHE, river of Hades, drinking whose water caused forgetfulness\n\nLEUCADIA, a promontory, whence Sappho, disappointed in love, was\nsaid to have thrown herself into the sea\n\nLEUCOTHEA, a sea goddess, invoked by sailors for protection (See\nIno)\n\nLEWIS, son of Charlemagne\n\nLIBER, ancient god of fruitfulness\n\nLIBETHRA, burial place of Orpheus\n\nLIBYA, Greek name for continent of Africa in general\n\nLIBYAN DESERT, in Africa\n\nLIBYAN OASIS\n\nLICHAS, who brought the shirt of Nessus to Hercules\n\nLIMOURS, Earl of\n\nLINUS, musical instructor of Hercules\n\nLIONEL, knight of the Round Table\n\nLLYR, King of Britain\n\nLOCRINE, son of Brutus in Albion, king of Central England\n\nLOEGRIA, kingdom of (England)\n\nLOGESTILLA, a wise lady, who entertained Rogero and his friends\n\nLOGI, who vanquished Loki in an eating contest\n\nLOKI, the Satan of Norse mythology, son of the giant Farbanti\n\nLOT, King, a rebel chief, subdued by King Arthur, then a loyal\nknight\n\nLOTIS, a nymph, changed to a lotus-plant and in that form plucked\nby Dryope\n\nLOTUS EATERS, soothed to indolence, companions of Ulysses landing\namong them lost all memory of home and had to be dragged away\nbefore they would continue their voyage\n\nLOVE (Eros) issued from egg of Night, and with arrows and torch\nproduced life and joy\n\nLUCAN, one of Arthur's knights\n\nLucius Tiberius, Roman procurator in Britain demanding tribute\nfrom Arthur\n\nLUD, British king, whose capital was called Lud's Town (London)\n\nLUDGATE, city gate where Lud was buried, 387\n\nLUNED, maiden who guided Owain to the Lady of the Fountain\n\nLYCAHAS, a turbulent sailor\n\nLYCAON, son of Priam\n\nLYCIA, a district in Southern Asia Minor\n\nLYCOMODES, king of the Dolopians, who treacherously slew Theseus\n\nLYCUS, usurping King of Thebes\n\nLYNCEUS, one of the sons of Aegyptus\n\nM\n\nMABINOGEON, plural of Mabinogi, fairy tales and romances of the\nWelsh\n\nMABON, son of Modron\n\nMACHAON, son of Aesculapius\n\nMADAN, son of Guendolen\n\nMADOC, a forester of King Arthur\n\nMADOR, Scottish knight\n\nMAELGAN, king who imprisoned Elphin\n\nMAEONIA, ancient Lydia\n\nMAGI, Persian priests\n\nMAHADEVA, same as Siva\n\nMAHOMET, great prophet of Arabia, born in Mecca, 571 AD,\nproclaimed worship of God instead of idols, spread his religion\nthrough disciples and then by force till it prevailed, with\nArabian dominion, over vast regions in Asia, Africa, and Spain in\nEurope\n\nMAIA, daughter of Atlas and Pleione, eldest and most beautiful of\nthe Pleiades\n\nMALAGIGI the Enchanter, one of Charlemagne's knights\n\nMALEAGANS, false knight\n\nMALVASIUS, King of Iceland\n\nMAMBRINO, with invisible helmet\n\nMANAWYD DAN, brother of King Vran, of London\n\nMANDRICARDO, son of Agrican\n\nMANTUA, in Italy, birthplace of Virgil\n\nMANU, ancestor of mankind\n\nMARATHON, where Theseus and Pirithous met\n\nMARK, King of Cornwall, husband of Isoude the Fair\n\nMARO See VIRGIL\n\nMARPHISA, sister of Rogero\n\nMARSILIUS, Spanish king, treacherous foe of Charlemagne\n\nMARSYAS, inventor of the flute, who challenged Apollo to musical\ncompetition, and, defeated, was flayed alive\n\nMATSYA, the Fish, first avatar of Vishnu\n\nMEANDER, Grecian river\n\nMEDE, A, princess and sorceress who aided Jason\n\nMEDORO, a young Moor, who wins Angelica\n\nMEDUSA, one of the Gorgons\n\nMEGAERA, one of the Furies\n\nMELAMPUS, a Spartan dog, the first mortal endowed with prophetic\npowers\n\nMELANTHUS, steersman for Bacchus\n\nMELEAGER, one of the Argonauts (See Althaea)\n\nMELIADUS, King of Lionesse, near Cornwall\n\nMELICERTES, infant son of Ino. changed to Palaemon (See Ino,\nLeucothea, and Palasmon)\n\nMELISSA, priestess at Merlin's tomb\n\nMELISSEUS, a Cretan king\n\nMELPOMENE, one of the Muses\n\nMEMNON, the beautiful son of Tithonus and Eos (Aurora), and king\nof the Ethiopians, slain in Trojan War\n\nMEMPHIS, Egyptian city\n\nMENELAUS, son of King of Sparta, husband of Helen\n\nMENOECEUS, son of Creon, voluntary victim in war to gain success\nfor his father\n\nMENTOR, son of Alcimus and a faithful friend of Ulysses\n\nMERCURY (See HERMES)\n\nMERLIN, enchanter\n\nMEROPE, daughter of King of Chios, beloved by Orion\n\nMESMERISM, likened to curative oracle of Aesculapius at Epidaurus\n\nMETABUS, father of Camilla\n\nMETAMORPHOSES, Ovid's poetical legends of mythical\ntransformations, a large source of our knowledge of classic\nmythology\n\nMETANIRA, a mother, kind to Ceres seeking Proserpine\n\nMETEMPSYCHOSIS, transmigration of souls--rebirth of dying men\nand women in forms of animals or human beings\n\nMETIS, Prudence, a spouse of Jupiter\n\nMEZENTIUS, a brave but cruel soldier, opposing Aeneas in Italy\n\nMIDAS\n\nMIDGARD, the middle world of the Norsemen\n\nMIDGARD SERPENT, a sea monster, child of Loki\n\nMILKY WAY, starred path across the sky, believed to be road to\npalace of the gods\n\nMILO, a great athlete\n\nMLON, father of Orlando\n\nMILTON, John, great English poet, whose History of England is here\nlargely used\n\nMIME, one of the chief dwarfs of ancient German mythology\n\nMINERVA (Athene), daughter of Jupiter, patroness of health,\nlearning, and wisdom\n\nMINOS, King of Crete\n\nMINO TAUR, monster killed by Theseus\n\nMISTLETOE, fatal to Baldur\n\nMNEMOSYNE, one of the Muses\n\nMODESTY, statue to\n\nMODRED, nephew of King Arthur\n\nMOLY, plant, powerful against sorcery\n\nMOMUS, a deity whose delight was to jeer bitterly at gods and men\n\nMONAD, the \"unit\" of Pythagoras\n\nMONSTERS, unnatural beings, evilly disposed to men\n\nMONTALBAN, Rinaldo's castle\n\nMONTH, the, attendant upon the Sun\n\nMOON, goddess of, see DIANA\n\nMORAUNT, knight, an Irish champion\n\nMORGANA, enchantress, the Lady of the Lake in \"Orlando Furioso,\"\nsame as Morgane Le Fay in tales of Arthur\n\nMORGANE LE FAY, Queen of Norway, King Arthur's sister, an\nenchantress\n\nMORGAN TUD, Arthur's chief physician\n\nMORPHEUS, son of Sleep and god of dreams\n\nMORTE D'ARTHUr, romance, by Sir Thomas Mallory\n\nMULCIBER, Latin name of Vulcan\n\nMULL, Island of\n\nMUNIN, one of Odin's two ravens\n\nMUSAEUS, sacred poet, son of Orpheus\n\nMUSES, The, nine goddesses presiding over poetry, etc--Calliope,\nepic poetry, Clio, history, Erato, love poetry, Euterpe, lyric\npoetry; Melpomene, tragedy, Polyhymnia, oratory and sacred song\nTerpsichore, choral song and dance, Thalia, comedy and idyls,\nUrania, astronomy\n\nMUSPELHEIM, the fire world of the Norsemen\n\nMYCENAS, ancient Grecian city, of which Agamemnon was king\n\nMYRDDIN (Merlin)\n\nMYRMIDONS, bold soldiers of Achilles\n\nMYSIA, Greek district on northwest coast of Asia Minor\n\nMYTHOLOGY, origin of, collected myths, describing gods of early\npeoples\n\nN\n\nNAIADS, water nymphs\n\nNAMO, Duke of Bavaria, one of Charlemagne's knights\n\nNANNA, wife of Baldur\n\nNANTERS, British king\n\nNANTES, site of Caradoc's castle\n\nNAPE, a dog of Diana\n\nNARCISSUS, who died of unsatisfied love for his own image in the\nwater\n\nNAUSICAA, daughter of King Alcinous, who befriended Ulysses\n\nNAUSITHOUS, king of Phaeacians\n\nNAXOS, Island of\n\nNEGUS, King of Abyssinia\n\nNEMEA, forest devastated by a lion killed by Hercules\n\nNEMEAN GAMES, held in honor of Jupiter and Hercules\n\nNEMEAN LION, killed by Hercules\n\nNEMESIS, goddess of vengeance\n\nNENNIUS, British combatant of Caesar\n\nNEOPTOLEMUS, son of Achilles\n\nNEPENTHE, ancient drug to cause forgetfulness of pain or distress\n\nNEPHELE, mother of Phryxus and Helle\n\nNEPHTHYS, Egyptian goddess\n\nNEPTUNE, identical with Poseidon, god of the sea\n\nNEREIDS, sea nymphs, daughters of Nereus and Doris\n\nNEREUS, a sea god\n\nNESSUS, a centaur killed by Hercules, whose jealous wife sent him\na robe or shirt steeped in the blood of Nessus, which poisoned him\n\nNESTOR, king of Pylos, renowned for his wisdom, justice, and\nknowledge of war\n\nNIBELUNGEN HOARD, treasure seized by Siegfried from the\nNibelungs, buried in the Rhine by Hagan after killing Siegfried,\nand lost when Hagan was killed by Kriemhild, theme of Wagner's\nfour music dramas, \"The Ring of the Nibelungen,\"\n\nNIBELUNGEN LIED, German epic, giving the same nature myth as the\nNorse Volsunga Saga, concerning the Hoard\n\nNIBELUNGEN RING, Wagner's music dramas\n\nNIBELUNGS, the, a race of Northern dwarfs\n\nNIDHOGGE, a serpent in the lower world that lives on the dead\n\nNIFFLEHEIM, mist world of the Norsemen, the Hades of absent\nspirits\n\nNILE, Egyptian river\n\nNIOBE, daughter of Tantalus, proud Queen of Thebes, whose seven\nsons and seven daughters were killed by Apollo and Diana, at which\nAmphion, her husband, killed himself, and Niobe wept until she was\nturned to stone\n\nNISUS, King of Megara\n\nNOAH, as legendary ancestor of French, Roman, German, and British\npeoples\n\nNOMAN, name assumed by Ulysses\n\nNORNS, the three Scandinavian Fates, Urdur (the past), Verdandi\n(the present), and Skuld (the future)\n\nNOTHUNG, magic sword\n\nNOTUS, southwest wind\n\nNOX, daughter of Chaos and sister of Erebus, personification of\nnight\n\nNuma, second king of Rome\n\nNYMPHS, beautiful maidens, lesser divinities of nature Dryads and\nHamadryads, tree nymphs, Naiads, spring, brook, and river nymphs,\nNereids, sea nymphs Oreads, mountain nymphs or hill nymphs\n\nO\n\nOCEANUS, a Titan, ruling watery elements\n\nOCYROE, a prophetess, daughter of Chiron\n\nODERIC\n\nODIN, chief of the Norse gods\n\nODYAR, famous Biscayan hero\n\nODYSSEUS See ULYSSES\n\nODYSSEY, Homer's poem, relating the wanderings of Odysseus\n(Ulysses) on returning from Trojan War\n\nOEDIPUS, Theban hero, who guessed the riddle of the Sphinx (which\nSee), becoming King of Thebes\n\nOENEUS, King of Calydon\n\nOENONE, nymph, married by Paris in his youth, and abandoned for\nHelen\n\nOENOPION, King of Chios\n\nOETA, Mount, scene of Hercules' death\n\nOGIER, the Dane, one of the paladins of Charlemagne\n\nOLIVER, companion of Orlando\n\nOLWEN, wife of Kilwich\n\nOLYMPIA, a small plain in Elis, where the Olympic games were\ncelebrated\n\nOLYMPIADS, periods between Olympic games (four years)\n\nOLYMPIAN GAMES, See GAMES\n\nOLYMPUS, dwelling place of the dynasty of gods of which Zeus was\nthe head\n\nOMPHALE, queen of Lydia, daughter of Iardanus and wife of Tmolus\n\nOPHION, king of the Titans, who ruled Olympus till dethroned by\nthe gods Saturn and Rhea\n\nOPS See RHEA\n\nORACLES, answers from the gods to questions from seekers for\nknowledge or advice for the future, usually in equivocal form, so\nas to fit any event, also places where such answers were given\nforth usually by a priest or priestess\n\nORC, a sea monster, foiled by Rogero when about to devour Angelica\n\nOREADS, nymphs of mountains and hills\n\nORESTES, son of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra, because of his crime\nin killing his mother, he was pursued by the Furies until purified\nby Minerva\n\nORION, youthful giant, loved by Diana, Constellation\n\nORITHYIA, a nymph, seized by Boreas\n\nORLANDO, a famous knight and nephew of Charlemagne\n\nORMUZD (Greek, Oromasdes), son of Supreme Being, source of good\nas his brother Ahriman (Arimanes) was of evil, in Persian or\nZoroastrian religion\n\nORPHEUS, musician, son of Apollo and Calliope, See EURYDICE\n\nOSIRIS, the most beneficent of the Egyptian gods\n\nOSSA, mountain of Thessaly\n\nOSSIAN, Celtic poet of the second or third century\n\nOVID, Latin poet (See Metamorphoses)\n\nOWAIN, knight at King Arthur's court\n\nOZANNA, a knight of Arthur\n\nP\n\nPACTOLUS, river whose sands were changed to gold by Midas\n\nPAEON, a name for both Apollo and Aesculapius, gods of medicine,\n\nPAGANS, heathen\n\nPALADINS or peers, knights errant\n\nPALAEMON, son of Athamas and Ino\n\nPALAMEDES, messenger sent to call Ulysses to the Trojan War\n\nPALAMEDES, Saracen prince at Arthur's court\n\nPALATINE, one of Rome's Seven Hills\n\nPALES, goddess presiding over cattle and pastures\n\nPALINURUS, faithful steersman of Aeeas\n\nPALLADIUM, properly any image of Pallas Athene, but specially\napplied to an image at Troy, which was stolen by Ulysses and\nDiomedes\n\nPALLAS, son of Evander\n\nPALLAS A THE'NE (Minerva)\n\nPAMPHA GUS, a dog of Diana\n\nPAN, god of nature and the universe\n\nPANATHENAEA, festival in honor of Pallas Athene (Minerva)\n\nPANDEAN PIPES, musical instrument of reeds, made by Pan in\nmemory of Syrinx\n\nPANDORA (all gifted), first woman, dowered with gifts by every\ngod, yet entrusted with a box she was cautioned not to open, but,\ncurious, she opened it, and out flew all the ills of humanity,\nleaving behind only Hope, which remained\n\nPANDRASUS, a king in Greece, who persecuted Trojan exiles under\nBrutus, great grandson of Aeneas, until they fought, captured him,\nand, with his daughter Imogen as Brutus' wife, emigrated to Albion\n(later called Britain)\n\nPANOPE, plain of\n\nPANTHUS, alleged earlier incarnation of Pythagoras\n\nPAPHLAGNIA, ancient country in Asia Minor, south of Black Sea\n\nPAPHOS, daughter of Pygmalion and Galatea (both of which, See)\n\nPARCAE See FATES\n\nPARIAHS, lowest caste of Hindus\n\nPARIS, son of Priam and Hecuba, who eloped with Helen (which.\nSee)\n\nPARNASSIAN LAUREl, wreath from Parnassus, crown awarded to\nsuccessful poets\n\nPARNASSUS, mountain near Delphi, sacred to Apollo and the Muses\n\nPARSEES, Persian fire worshippers (Zoroastrians), of whom there\nare still thousands in Persia and India\n\nPARTHENON, the temple of Athene Parthenos (\"the Virgin\") on the\nAcropolis of Athens\n\nPASSEBREUL, Tristram's horse\n\nPATROCLUS, friend of Achilles, killed by Hector\n\nPECHEUR, King, uncle of Perceval\n\nPEERS, the\n\nPEG A SUS, winged horse, born from the sea foam and the blood of\nMedusa\n\nPELEUS, king of the Myrmidons, father of Achilles by Thetis\n\nPELIAS, usurping uncle of Jason\n\nPELION, mountain\n\nPELLEAS, knight of Arthur\n\nPENATES, protective household deities of the Romans\n\nPENDRAGON, King of Britain, elder brother of Uther Pendragon,\nwho succeeded him\n\nPENELOPE, wife of Ulysses, who, waiting twenty years for his\nreturn from the Trojan War, put off the suitors for her hand by\npromising to choose one when her weaving was done, but unravelled\nat night what she had woven by day\n\nPENEUS, river god, river\n\nPENTHESILEA, queen of Amazons\n\nPENTHEUS, king of Thebes, having resisted the introduction of\nthe worship of Bacchus into his kingdom, was driven mad by the god\n\nPENUS, Roman house pantry, giving name to the Penates\n\nPEPIN, father of Charlemagne\n\nPEPLUS, sacred robe of Minerva\n\nPERCEVAL, a great knight of Arthur\n\nPERDIX, inventor of saw and compasses\n\nPERIANDER, King of Corinuh, friend of Arion\n\nPERIPHETES, son of Vulcan, killed by Theseus\n\nPERSEPHONE, goddess of vegetation, 8 See Pioserpine\n\nPERSEUS, son of Jupiter and Danae, slayer of the Gorgon Medusa,\ndeliverer of Andromeda from a sea monster, 116 122, 124, 202\n\nPHAEACIANS, people who entertained Ulysses\n\nPHAEDRA, faithless and cruel wife of Theseus\n\nPHAETHUSA, sister of Phaeton, 244\n\nPHAETON, son of Phoebus, who dared attempt to drive his father's\nsun chariot\n\nPHANTASOS, a son of Somnus, bringing strange images to sleeping\nmen\n\nPHAON, beloved by Sappho\n\nPHELOT, knight of Wales\n\nPHEREDIN, friend of Tristram, unhappy lover of Isoude\n\nPHIDIAS, famous Greek sculptor\n\nPHILEMON, husband of Baucis\n\nPHILOCTETES, warrior who lighted the fatal pyre of Hercules\n\nPHILOE, burial place of Osiris\n\nPHINEUS, betrothed to Andromeda\n\nPHLEGETHON, fiery river of Hades\n\nPHOCIS\n\nPHOEBE, one of the sisters of Phaeton\n\nPHOEBUS (Apollo), god of music, prophecy, and archery, the sun\ngod\n\nPHOENIX, a messenger to Achilles, also, a miraculous bird dying\nin fire by its own act and springing up alive from its own ashes\n\nPHORBAS, a companion of Aeneas, whose form was assumed by Neptune\nin luring Palinuras the helmsman from his roost\n\nPHRYXUS, brother of Helle\n\nPINABEL, knight\n\nPILLARS OF HERCULES, two mountains--Calpe, now the Rock of\nGibraltar, southwest corner of Spain in Europe, and Abyla, facing\nit in Africa across the strait\n\nPINDAR, famous Greek poet\n\nPINDUS, Grecian mountain\n\nPIRENE, celebrated fountain at Corinth\n\nPIRITHOUS, king of the Lapithae in Thessaly, and friend of\nTheseus, husband of Hippodamia\n\nPLEASURE, daughter of Cupid and Psyche\n\nPLEIADES, seven of Diana's nymphs, changed into stars, one being\nlost\n\nPLENTY, the Horn of\n\nPLEXIPPUS, brother of Althea\n\nPLINY, Roman naturalist\n\nPLUTO, the same as Hades, Dis, etc. god of the Infernal Regions\n\nPLUTUS, god of wealth\n\nPO, Italian river\n\nPOLE STAR\n\nPOLITES, youngest son of Priam of Troy\n\nPOLLUX, Castor and (Dioscuri, the Twins) (See Castor)\n\nPOLYDECTES, king of Seriphus\n\nPOLYDORE, slain kinsman of Aeneas, whose blood nourished a bush\nthat bled when broken\n\nPOLYHYMNIA, Muse of oratory and sacred song\n\nPOLYIDUS, soothsayer\n\nPOLYNICES, King of Thebes\n\nPOLYPHEMUS, giant son of Neptune\n\nPOLYXENA, daughter of King Priam of Troy\n\nPOMONA, goddess of fruit trees (See VERTUMNUS)\n\nPORREX and FER'REX, sons of Leir, King of Britain\n\nPORTUNUS, Roman name for Palaemon\n\nPOSEIDON (Neptune), ruler of the ocean\n\nPRECIPICE, threshold of Helas hall\n\nPRESTER JOHN, a rumored priest or presbyter, a Christian pontiff\nin Upper Asia, believed in but never found\n\nPRIAM, king of Troy\n\nPRIWEN, Arthur's shield\n\nPROCRIS, beloved but jealous wife of Cephalus\n\nPROCRUSTES, who seized travellers and bound them on his iron bed,\nstretching the short ones and cutting short the tall, thus also\nhimself served by Theseus\n\nPROETUS, jealous of Bellerophon\n\nPROMETHEUS, creator of man, who stole fire from heaven for man's\nuse\n\nPROSERPINE, the same as Persephone, goddess of all growing\nthings, daughter of Ceres, carried off by Pluto\n\nPROTESILAUS, slain by Hector the Trojan, allowed by the gods to\nreturn for three hours' talk with his widow Laodomia\n\nPROTEUS, the old man of the sea\n\nPRUDENCE (Metis), spouse of Jupiter\n\nPRYDERI, son of Pwyll\n\nPSYCHE, a beautiful maiden, personification of the human soul,\nsought by Cupid (Love), to whom she responded, lost him by\ncuriosity to see him (as he came to her only by night), but\nfinally through his prayers was made immortal and restored to him,\na symbol of immortality\n\nPURANAS, Hindu Scriptures\n\nPWYLL, Prince of Dyved\n\nPYGMALION, sculptor in love with a statue he had made, brought to\nlife by Venus, brother of Queen Dido\n\nPYGMIES, nation of dwarfs, at war with the Cranes\n\nPYLADES, son of Straphius, friend of Orestes\n\nPYRAMUS, who loved Thisbe, next door neighbor, and, their parents\nopposing, they talked through cracks in the house wall, agreeing\nto meet in the near by woods, where Pyramus, finding a bloody veil\nand thinking Thisbe slain, killed himself, and she, seeing his\nbody, killed herself (Burlesqued in Shakespeare's \"Midsummer\nNight's Dream\")\n\nPYRRHA, wife of Deucalion\n\nPYRRHUS (Neoptolemus), son of Achilles\n\nPYTHAGORAS, Greek philosopher (540 BC), who thought numbers to be\nthe essence and principle of all things, and taught transmigration\nof souls of the dead into new life as human or animal beings\n\nPYTHIA, priestess of Apollo at Delphi\n\nPYTHIAN GAMES\n\nPYTHIAN ORACLE\n\nPYTHON, serpent springing from Deluge slum, destroyed by Apollo\n\nQ\n\nQUIRINUS (from quiris, a lance or spear), a war god, said to be\nRomulus, founder of Rome\n\nR\n\nRABICAN, noted horse\n\nRAGNAROK, the twilight (or ending) of the gods\n\nRAJPUTS, minor Hindu caste\n\nREGAN, daughter of Leir\n\nREGILLUS, lake in Latium, noted for battle fought near by\nbetween the Romans and the Latins\n\nREGGIO, family from which Rogero sprang\n\nREMUS, brother of Romulus, founder of Rome\n\nRHADAMANTHUS, son of Jupiter and Europa after his death one of\nthe judges in the lower world\n\nRHAPSODIST, professional reciter of poems among the Greeks\n\nRHEA, female Titan, wife of Saturn (Cronos), mother of the chief\ngods, worshipped in Greece and Rome\n\nRHINE, river\n\nRHINE MAIDENS, OR DAUGHTERS, three water nymphs, Flosshilda,\nWoglinda, and Wellgunda, set to guard the Nibelungen Hoard, buried\nin the Rhine\n\nRHODES, one of the seven cities claiming to be Homer's birthplace\n\nRHODOPE, mountain in Thrace\n\nRHONGOMYANT, Arthur's lance\n\nRHOECUS, a youth, beloved by a Dryad, but who brushed away a bee\nsent by her to call him to her, and she punished him with\nblindness\n\nRHIANNON, wife of Pwyll\n\nRINALDO, one of the bravest knights of Charlemagne\n\nRIVER OCEAN, flowing around the earth\n\nROBERT DE BEAUVAIS', Norman poet (1257)\n\nROBIN HOOD, famous outlaw in English legend, about time of Richard\nCoeur de Lion\n\nROCKINGHAM, forest of\n\nRODOMONT, king of Algiers\n\nROGERO, noted Saracen knight\n\nROLAND (Orlando), See Orlando\n\nROMANCES\n\nROMANUS, legendary great grandson of Noah\n\nROME\n\nROMULUS, founder of Rome\n\nRON, Arthur's lance\n\nRONCES VALLES', battle of\n\nROUND TABLE King Arthur's instituted by Merlin the Sage for\nPendragon, Arthur's father, as a knightly order, continued and\nmade famous by Arthur and his knights\n\nRUNIC CHARACTERS, or runes, alphabetic signs used by early\nTeutonic peoples, written or graved on metal or stone\n\nRUTULIANS, an ancient people in Italy, subdued at an early period\nby the Romans\n\nRYENCE, king in Ireland\n\nS\n\nSABRA, maiden for whom Severn River was named, daughter of Locrine\nand Estrildis thrown into river Severn by Locrine's wife,\ntransformed to a river nymph, poetically named Sabrina\n\nSACRIPANT, king of Circassia\n\nSAFFIRE, Sir, knight of Arthur\n\nSAGAS, Norse tales of heroism, composed by the Skalds\n\nSAGRAMOUR, knight of Arthur\n\nSt. MICHAEL'S MOUNT, precipitous pointed rock hill on the coast of\nBrittany, opposite Cornwall\n\nSAKYASINHA, the Lion, epithet applied to Buddha\n\nSALAMANDER, a lizard like animal, fabled to be able to live in\nfire\n\nSALAMIS, Grecian city\n\nSALMONEUS, son of Aeolus and Enarete and brother of Sisyphus\n\nSALOMON, king of Brittany, at Charlemagne's court\n\nSAMHIN, or \"fire of peace,\" a Druidical festival\n\nSAMIAN SAGE (Pythagoras)\n\nSAMOS, island in the Aegean Sea\n\nSAMOTHRACIAN GODS, a group of agricultural divinities, worshipped\nin Samothrace\n\nSAMSON, Hebrew hero, thought by some to be original of Hercules\n\nSAN GREAL (See Graal, the Holy)\n\nSAPPHO, Greek poetess, who leaped into the sea from promontory of\nLeucadia in disappointed love for Phaon\n\nSARACENS, followers of Mahomet\n\nSARPEDON, son of Jupiter and Europa, killed by Patroclus\n\nSATURN (Cronos)\n\nSATURNALIA, a annual festival held by Romans in honor of Saturn\n\nSATURNIA, an ancient name of Italy\n\nSATYRS, male divinities of the forest, half man, half goat\n\nSCALIGER, famous German scholar of 16th century\n\nSCANDINAVIA, mythology of, giving account of Northern gods,\nheroes, etc\n\nSCHERIA, mythical island, abode of the Phaeacians\n\nSCHRIMNIR, the boar, cooked nightly for the heroes of Valhalla\nbecoming whole every morning\n\nSCIO, one of the island cities claiming to be Homer's birthplace\n\nSCOPAS, King of Thessaly\n\nSCORPION, constellation\n\nSCYLLA, sea nymph beloved by Glaucus, but changed by jealous Circe\nto a monster and finally to a dangerous rock on the Sicilian\ncoast, facing the whirlpool Charybdis, many mariners being wrecked\nbetween the two, also, daughter of King Nisus of Megara, who loved\nMinos, besieging her father's city, but he disliked her disloyalty\nand drowned her, also, a fair virgin of Sicily, friend of sea\nnymph Galatea\n\nSCYROS, where Theseus was slain\n\nSCYTHIA, country lying north of Euxine Sea\n\nSEMELE, daughter of Cadmus and, by Jupiter, mother of Bacchus\n\nSEMIRAMIS, with Ninus the mythical founder of the Assyrian empire\nof Nineveh\n\nSENAPUS, King of Abyssinia, who entertained Astolpho\n\nSERAPIS, or Hermes, Egyptian divinity of Tartarus and of\nmedicine\n\nSERFS, slaves of the land\n\nSERIPHUS, island in the Aegean Sea, one of the Cyclades\n\nSERPENT (Northern constellation)\n\nSESTOS, dwelling of Hero (which See also Leander)\n\n\"SEVEN AGAINST THEBES,\" famous Greek expedition\n\nSEVERN RIVER, in England\n\nSEVINUS, Duke of Guienne\n\nSHALOTT, THE LADY OF\n\nSHATRIYA, Hindu warrior caste\n\nSHERASMIN, French chevalier\n\nSIBYL, prophetess of Cumae\n\nSICHAEUS, husband of Dido\n\nSEIGE PERILOUS, the chair of purity at Arthur's Round Table, fatal\nto any but him who was destined to achieve the quest of the\nSangreal (See Galahad)\n\nSIEGFRIED, young King of the Netherlands, husband of Kriemhild,\nshe boasted to Brunhild that Siegfried had aided Gunther to beat\nher in athletic contests, thus winning her as wife, and Brunhild,\nin anger, employed Hagan to murder Siegfried. As hero of Wagner's\n\"Valkyrie,\" he wins the Nibelungen treasure ring, loves and\ndeserts Brunhild, and is slain by Hagan\n\nSIEGLINDA, wife of Hunding, mother of Siegfried by Siegmund\n\nSIEGMUND, father of Siegfried\n\nSIGTRYG, Prince, betrothed of King Alef's daughter, aided by\nHereward\n\nSIGUNA, wife of Loki\n\nSILENUS, a Satyr, school master of Bacchus\n\nSILURES (South Wales)\n\nSILVIA, daughter of Latin shepherd\n\nSILVIUS, grandson of Aeneas, accidentally killed in the chase by\nhis son Brutus\n\nSIMONIDES, an early poet of Greece\n\nSINON, a Greek spy, who persuaded the Trojans to take the Wooden\nHorse into their city\n\nSIRENS, sea nymphs, whose singing charmed mariners to leap into\nthe sea, passing their island, Ulysses stopped the ears of his\nsailors with wax, and had himself bound to the mast so that he\ncould hear but not yield to their music\n\nSIRIUS, the dog of Orion, changed to the Dog star\n\nSISYPHUS, condemned in Tartarus to perpetually roll up hill a big\nrock which, when the top was reached, rolled down again\n\nSIVA, the Destroyer, third person of the Hindu triad of gods\n\nSKALDS, Norse bards and poets\n\nSKIDBLADNIR, Freyr's ship\n\nSKIRNIR, Frey's messenger, who won the god's magic sword by\ngetting him Gerda for his wife\n\nSKRYMIR, a giant, Utgard Loki in disguise, who fooled Thor in\nathletic feats\n\nSKULD, the Norn of the Future\n\nSLEEP, twin brother of Death\n\nSLEIPNIR, Odin's horse\n\nSOBRINO, councillor to Agramant\n\nSOMNUS, child of Nox, twin brother of Mors, god of sleep\n\nSOPHOCLES, Greek tragic dramatist\n\nSOUTH WIND See Notus\n\nSPAR'TA, capital of Lacedaemon\n\nSPHINX, a monster, waylaying the road to Thebes and propounding\nriddles to all passers, on pain of death, for wrong guessing, who\nkilled herself in rage when Aedipus guessed aright\n\nSPRING\n\nSTONEHENGE, circle of huge upright stones, fabled to be sepulchre\nof Pendragon\n\nSTROPHIUS, father of Pylades\n\nSTYGIAN REALM, Hades\n\nSTYGIAN SLEEP, escaped from the beauty box sent from Hades to\nVenus by hand of Psyche, who curiously opened the box and was\nplunged into unconsciousness\n\nSTYX, river, bordering Hades, to be crossed by all the dead\n\nSUDRAS, Hindu laboring caste\n\nSURTUR, leader of giants against the gods in the day of their\ndestruction (Norse mythology)\n\nSURYA, Hindu god of the sun, corresponding to the Greek Helios\n\nSUTRI, Orlando's birthplace\n\nSVADILFARI, giant's horse\n\nSWAN, LEDA AND\n\nSYBARIS, Greek city in Southern Italy, famed for luxury\n\nSYLVANUS, Latin divinity identified with Pan\n\nSYMPLEGADES, floating rocks passed by the Argonauts\n\nSYRINX, nymph, pursued by Pan, but escaping by being changed to a\nbunch of reeds (See Pandean pipes)\n\nT\n\nTACITUS, Roman historian\n\nTAENARUS, Greek entrance to lower regions\n\nTAGUS, river in Spain and Portugal\n\nTALIESIN, Welsh bard\n\nTANAIS, ancient name of river Don\n\nTANTALUS, wicked king, punished in Hades by standing in water\nthat retired when he would drink, under fruit trees that withdrew\nwhen he would eat\n\nTARCHON, Etruscan chief\n\nTARENTUM, Italian city\n\nTARPEIAN ROCK, in Rome, from which condemned criminals were\nhurled\n\nTARQUINS, a ruling family in early Roman legend\n\nTAURIS, Grecian city, site of temple of Diana (See Iphigenia)\n\nTAURUS, a mountain\n\nTARTARUS, place of confinement of Titans, etc, originally a black\nabyss below Hades later, represented as place where the wicked\nwere punished, and sometimes the name used as synonymous with\nHades\n\nTEIRTU, the harp of\n\nTELAMON, Greek hero and adventurer, father of Ajax\n\nTELEMACHUS, son of Ulysses and Penelope\n\nTELLUS, another name for Rhea\n\nTENEDOS, an island in Aegean Sea\n\nTERMINUS, Roman divinity presiding over boundaries and frontiers\n\nTERPSICHORE, Muse of dancing\n\nTERRA, goddess of the earth\n\nTETHYS, goddess of the sea\n\nTEUCER, ancient king of the Trojans\n\nTHALIA, one of the three Graces\n\nTHAMYRIS, Thracian bard, who challenged the Muses to competition\nin singing, and, defeated, was blinded\n\nTHAUKT, Loki disguised as a hag\n\nTHEBES, city founded by Cadmus and capital of Boeotia\n\nTHEMIS, female Titan, law counsellor of Jove\n\nTHEODORA, sister of Prince Leo\n\nTHERON, one of Diana's dogs\n\nTHERSITES, a brawler, killed by Achilles\n\nTHESCELUS, foe of Perseus, turned to stone by sight of Gorgon's\nhead\n\nTHESEUM, Athenian temple in honor of Theseus\n\nTHESEUS, son of Aegeus and Aethra, King of Athens, a great hero of\nmany adventures\n\nTHESSALY\n\nTHESTIUS, father of Althea\n\nTHETIS, mother of Achilles\n\nTHIALFI, Thor's servant\n\nTHIS'BE, Babylonian maiden beloved by Pyramus\n\nTHOR, the thunderer, of Norse mythology, most popular of the gods\n\nTHRACE\n\nTHRINA'KIA, island pasturing Hyperion's cattle, where Ulysses\nlanded, but, his men killing some cattle for food, their ship was\nwrecked by lightning\n\nTHRYM, giant, who buried Thor's hammer\n\nTHUCYDIDES, Greek historian\n\nTIBER, river flowing through Rome\n\nTIBER, FATHER, god of the river\n\nTIGRIS, river\n\nTINTADEL, castle of, residence of King Mark of Cornwall\n\nTIRESIAS, a Greek soothsayer\n\nTISIPHONE, one of the Furies\n\nTITANS, the sons and daughters of Uranus (Heaven) and Gaea\n(Earth), enemies of the gods and overcome by them\n\nTITHONUS, Trojan prince\n\nTITYUS, giant in Tartarus\n\nTMOLUS, a mountain god\n\nTORTOISE, second avatar of Vishnu\n\nTOURS, battle of (See Abdalrahman and Charles Martel)\n\nTOXEUS, brother of Melauger's mother, who snatched from Atalanta\nher hunting trophy, and was slain by Melauger, who had awarded it\nto her\n\nTRIAD, the Hindu\n\nTRIADS, Welsh poems\n\nTRIMURTI, Hindu Triad\n\nTRIPTOL'EMUS, son of Celeus , and who, made great by\nCeres, founded her worship in Eleusis\n\nTRISTRAM, one of Arthur's knights, husband of Isoude of the White\nHands, lover of Isoude the Fair,\n\nTRITON, a demi god of the sea, son of Poseidon (Neptune) and\nAmphitrite\n\nTROEZEN, Greek city of Argolis\n\nTROJAN WAR\n\nTROJANOVA, New Troy, City founded in Britain (See Brutus, and\nLud)\n\nTROPHONIUS, oracle of, in Boeotia\n\nTROUBADOURS, poets and minstrels of Provence, in Southern France\n\nTROUVERS', poets and minstrels of Northern France\n\nTROY, city in Asia Minor, ruled by King Priam, whose son, Paris,\nstole away Helen, wife of Menelaus the Greek, resulting in the\nTrojan War and the destruction of Troy\n\nTROY, fall of\n\nTURNUS, chief of the Rutulianes in Italy, unsuccessful rival of\nAeneas for Lavinia\n\nTURPIN, Archbishop of Rheims\n\nTURQUINE, Sir, a great knight, foe of Arthur, slain by Sir\nLauncelot\n\nTYPHON, one of the giants who attacked the gods, were defeated,\nand imprisoned under Mt. Aetna\n\nTYR, Norse god of battles\n\nTYRE, Phoenician city governed by Dido\n\nTYRIANS\n\nTYRRHEUS, herdsman of King Turnus in Italy, the slaying of whose\ndaughter's stag aroused war upon Aeneas and his companions\n\nU\n\nUBERTO, son of Galafron\n\nULYSSES (Greek, Odysseus), hero of the Odyssey\n\nUNICORN, fabled animal with a single horn\n\nURANIA, one of the Muses, a daughter of Zeus by Mnemosyne\n\nURDUR, one of the Norns or Fates of Scandinavia, representing the\nPast\n\nUSK, British river\n\nUTGARD, abode of the giant Utgard Loki\n\nUTGARD LO'KI, King of the Giants (See Skrymir)\n\nUTHER (Uther Pendragon), king of Britain and father of Arthur,\n\nUWAINE, knight of Arthur's court\n\nV\n\nVAISSYAS, Hindu caste of agriculturists and traders\n\nVALHALLA, hall of Odin, heavenly residence of slain heroes\n\nVALKYRIE, armed and mounted warlike virgins, daughters of the gods\n(Norse), Odin's messengers, who select slain heroes for Valhalla\nand serve them at their feasts\n\nVE, brother of Odin\n\nVEDAS, Hindu sacred Scriptures\n\nVENEDOTIA, ancient name for North Wales\n\nVENUS (Aphrodite), goddess of beauty\n\nVENUS DE MEDICI, famous antique statue in Uffizi Gallery,\nFlorence, Italy\n\nVERDANDI, the Present, one of the Norns\n\nVERTUMNUS, god of the changing seasons, whose varied appearances\nwon the love of Pomona\n\nVESTA, daughter of Cronos and Rhea, goddess of the homefire, or\nhearth\n\nVESTALS, virgin priestesses in temple of Vesta\n\nVESUVIUS, Mount, volcano near Naples\n\nVILLAINS, peasants in the feudal scheme\n\nVIGRID, final battle-field, with destruction of the gods ind\ntheir enemies, the sun, the earth, and time itself\n\nVILI, brother of Odin and Ve\n\nVIRGIL, celebrated Latin poet (See Aeneid)\n\nVIRGO, constellation of the Virgin, representing Astraea, goddess\nof innocence and purity\n\nVISHNU, the Preserver, second of the three chief Hindu gods\n\nVIVIANE, lady of magical powers, who allured the sage Merlin and\nimprisoned him in an enchanted wood\n\nVOLSCENS, Rutulian troop leader who killed Nisus and Euryalus\n\nVOLSUNG, A SAGA, an Icelandic poem, giving about the same legends\nas the Nibelungen Lied\n\nVORTIGERN, usurping King of Britain, defeated by Pendragon 390,\n397\n\nVULCAN (Greek, Haephestus), god of fire and metal working, with\nforges under Aetna, husband of Venus\n\nVYA'SA, Hindu sage\n\nW\n\nWAIN, the, constellation\n\nWELLGUNDA, one of the Rhine-daughters\n\nWELSH LANGUAGE\n\nWESTERN OCEAN\n\nWINDS, THE\n\nWINTER\n\nWODEN, chief god in the Norse mythology, Anglo Saxon for Odin\n\nWOGLINDA, one of the Rhine-daughters\n\nWOMAN, creation of\n\nWOODEN HORSE, the, filled with armed men, but left outside of Troy\nas a pretended offering to Minerva when the Greeks feigned to sail\naway, accepted by the Trojans (See Sinon, and Laocoon), brought\ninto the city, and at night emptied of the hidden Greek soldiers,\nwho destroyed the town\n\nWOOD NYMPHS\n\nWOTAN, Old High German form of Odin\n\nX\n\nXANTHUS, river of Asia Minor\n\nY\n\nYAMA, Hindu god of the Infernal Regions\n\nYEAR, THE\n\nYGDRASIL, great ash-tree, supposed by Norse mythology to support\nthe universe\n\nYMIR, giant, slain by Odin\n\nYNYWL, Earl, host of Geraint, father of Enid\n\nYORK, Britain\n\nYSERONE, niece of Arthur, mother of Caradoc\n\nYSPA DA DEN PEN'KAWR, father of Olwen\n\nZ\n\nZENDAVESTA, Persian sacred Scriptures\n\nZEPHYRUS, god of the South wind,\n\nZERBINO, a knight, son of the king of Scotland\n\nZETES, winged warrior, companion of Theseus\n\nZETHUS, son of Jupiter and Antiope, brother of Amphion. See Dirce\n\nZEUS, See JUPITER\n\nZOROASTER, founder of the Persian religion, which was dominant in\nWestern Asia from about 550 BC to about 650 AD, and is still held\nby many thousands in Persia and in India","title":"Bulfinch's Mythology","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":329775}